Don't know much about this record. But boy we sure do like it. And part of the reason is it is so indescribable. Seriously. Rarely is a record free enough from referents that we are forced to describe the sound alone instead of comparing it to this person and that band. Which while daunting, is also incredibly exciting. It even inspired a spirited discussion with my lady friend (who also loved this record) on how to explain/describe just what the hell is going on here musically. Asa-Chang is a self-taught tabla/bongo guru and in-demand session percussionist and this is his first proper solo record. And it's not at all the record you might expect from a famous tabla player. The tabla, and percussion in general is used quite sparingly, usually strangely entagled with processed vocals, creating fucked up rhythms and otherworldly harmonies. The first track features lots of mournful strings, soaring and swelling with staccato tabla perfectly in sync with spoken male and female vocals. Strangely hypnotic and totally alien sounding. The next track is sort of calypso, with horns and steel drums pecking out a lo-fi, murky melody, sounding a bit like Indian street musicians jamming with some Elephant 6 band. And it continues, careening wildly (stylistically) all over the place, but somehow remains totally cohesive and utterly compelling. They even do a cover of Brigitte Fontaine & Art Ensemble's "Comme A La Radio"! With harmonica and sitars and electronics and crazy tablas triggering whispery Japanese vocals over lovely strings. Unlikely sounds and deliberately angular melodies, super affected vocals ranging from robotic sped up female voices to distorted, pitched down male voices, often harmonising (sort of), occasional almost-indie rock riffs plucked out on an acoustic guitar, bells and chimes, shimmering drones, electronic bleeps and blips, and amazing percussion all gel perfectly into one of the weirdest coolest records we've heard in a long time.
Devendra Banhart -- who appears to be living his life as an indie-rock gipsy touring with whomever and squatting wherever, including a stint wowing locals here in SF -- crafts his neo-folk songs with the primitive instrumentation of voice and acoustic guitar, spanning a vast spectrum of fragmented emotions through a manic-depressive persona that can be as beautifully charming as it can be terrifyingly devastating. Michael Gira, who released this album through his Young God label, accurately described Banhart's voice with its skewed vibrato and unnerving warble as somewhere in between the magical voices of Marc Bolan, Karen Dalton, Syd Barrett, Tiny Tim, Daniel Johnston, and Nick Drake; and fortunately, Banhart uses that voice to tell a wholly unique set of stories that hold a succinct poetry. Hastily stitched from bizarre stream of consciousness associations and absurdist conditional clauses, Banhart's lyrics expand the realm of possibility into psychosexual surrealism. On occasion, Banhart's tales are anthropomorphic love songs, wistfully dreaming of archaic steam ships and the state of Michigan (yes, he pines for Michigan) with all of sexual cravings and romantic nuances of a young boy first pierced by Cupid's arrow; yet on other occasion, Banhart gnashes his teeth with such existential confusion that the targets of his epithets are blurred by his bilious rage. Within Banhart's language, reality has been realized as a swollen mass of malformed emotions compounded by the urgency that resonates within his voice.
Upon listening to this album, I've had the recurring, sinking feeling either that Banhart is destined to star in an upcoming Harmony Korine film or that he will be dead in a few years as victim of an unspecified gruesome tragedy. As I've tried and failed to assign such distinctly odd critical-doomspeak within various arguments and generalized thesis about the perception of the separation between art and life, I mention it because Banhart -- unlike any artist whom I've come across -- has been able to provoke such controversial thoughts. Far from me to wish Banhart or anybody ill-will, but true manifestations of horror defy logic and are very rare indeed. And this, gentle reader, is the real deal.
If you recall, Andee began his review of Woven Hand's album with the bold statement: "I hate to gush, but gush I must, this is my record of the year. Done deal." As for me (Jim, along with Marcy and Windy), the debut from Devendra Banhart needs to be given serious consideration as a contender for record of the year 2002.
It seems that art world darlings Black Dice have abandoned their super spastic noise assaults in favor of a more subtle, spacious, psychedelic approach, a path not unlike the one the Boredoms followed on the way to making "Super ae" and "Vision Creation Newsun." What happened? It's like someone set those responsible for "Cold Hands" loose in the forest with some shrooms, a couple Amon Duul records and a mission to get in touch with their primal selves. However they got their inspiration, the results are a glorious realization of intensity achieved through built-up layers of evocative, tension filled sound rather than freak-punk pummelling. This is an affair of shimmery guitars, cascading oscillations, tinkling chimes, and even a new agey wind line, worrisome until it gets obliterated via sample manipulation. An element of tribalism pounds its way into Beaches & Canyons, both through hypnotic drumming and yelping "Ah oh ah oh oh ah ah oh YEW! YEW! YEW! YEW!" vocal outbursts. The whole thing teeters precariously on the edge of hippy-dippydom, but Black Dice manages to pull off the jams while avoiding wanton self indulgence. Expansive, unexpected and awesome.
The new album from Will Oldham & friends is simply wonderful. And we know we rave about Oldham a lot, from his work with Palace Bros to the solo material, but really we mean it -- this is one of his best records. In fact, I think that without the charming but sometimes syrupy twang prevalent on his earlier efforts, Master and Everyone has finally launched Oldham into the same lofty, hallowed territory as other iconoclastic folk practitioners such as Townes Van Zandt. Yeah, this is that good.
The new record has the same kind of low-key charm as his last offering, Ease On Down the Road, although while that record had a sunny back-porch vibe and moments of sly, naughty humor, the laconic, mellow sound of Master And Everyone is tinged with melancholy -- as is much of Oldham's recorded output -- but doesn't try to reach into the inky realms of cathartic intensity found on I See A Darkness (which is one of the best records he's made). Instead, the feeling is familiar and comforting, as Oldham wraps a honeyed falsetto or low, secretive whisper around distant stories of love and lonelines, filtered through the phrasing of early god-fearing folk balladeers. Female harmonies add to the sweetness. Gone is Oldham's faux Appalachian hillbilly guise, and the tenuous, always-cracking vocal warble, and the sometimes pointlessly peurile lyrics, and in its place is a warm, muted, dark folk record. Very reminiscent of seventies British folk, especially Nick Drake, with gorgeous female vocals perfectly complementing Oldham's warm languorous voice. A perfect drifiting off record.
Probably the best testimonial to the goodness of this record is not the fact that the AQ staffers who're already Bonnie Billy fans like it, but the fact that Andee, a.k.a. staunch Oldham naysayer (likes nothing after the Palace Bros debut), LOVES this record too. And that's saying somethin'!
By now, unless you've been living underneath a VERY big rock, you know all about Count Grishnackh aka Burzum, Euronymous, Bard Faust, Mayhem, Emperor and all the killing and church burnings and suicides. If for some reason you don't know about all this stuff, go buy yourself a copy of The Lords Of Chaos, a book that covers all that stuff in great detail. The problem with all this drama, murder, satanism, whatever, you forget that the whole reason these guys knew each other, and the only reason any of us cared, was the music they made. And that music they made was black metal. A black metal that thanks to the decidedly non-musical drama, would soon make black metal a household name.
So when folks ask us to recommend some classic black metal, we always recommend Satyricon's Nemesis Divina, Immortal's Battles In The North, Emperor's Anthems To The Welkin At Dusk, and of course Burzum's Filosefem. Filosefem, originally released in 1996 holds a special place in our outsider music hearts, as the first black metal record to turn the whole black metal formula completely upside down. Count Grishnackh was the only member and played all the instruments, even the drums, which gives the whole thing a weirdly damaged droning swing. A rhythm that would define the rhythmic sound of later black metal legends like Graveland and Woodtemple. The guitars are a thick suffocating buzz, razor sharp and totally blown out. And the vocals are an anguished wail, some sort of primeval demonic incantation. But where Burzum stands out most is the addition of a creepy synthesizers that hover in the background of several of the tracks, a haunting melody buried beneath the swirl of fuzz and ultradistortion. Unlike other BM bands, the keyboard isn't a huge wash of strings to add some sort of epic quality, these tracks are already epic enough, here the keyboards are much more spare, a simple minor key melody is picked out, almost childlike, hovering briefly, before the next note follows. Except for one blazing blast of a track, Filosefem is mostly midtempo, lurching and heaving, stumbling down dirt road into a smeared grey landscape. But as the record nears the last few tracks, the record changes, beginning with the nearly half hour long "Rundgang um die Transzendentale Saule der Singularitat", a track that eschews any hint of metal, stripping away the guitars, the drums, everything, and leaving just the synthesizer, as it unfurls a seemingly endless Aphex Twin like four note melody. Forlorn and strangely compelling. And in the context of the whole record, as emotionally devastating as anything we've heard. The final track "Gebrechlichkeit II", brings back the guitars, but makes them nearly static, an endlessly blurry vacuum cleaner like riff, slowly shifting, as another haunting melody drifts wraith like in the background. Definitely one of the most essential and unique metal records of all time.
BE WARNED! THESE BURZUM LPS ARE EXTREMELY LIMITED!! ONCE THESE ARE GONE, IT'S QUITE POSSIBLE THAT THEY'LL BE GONE FOR GOOD. IF IT ENDS UP WE CAN GET MORE, BE PREPARED TO WAIT PATIENTLY!
The history of the legendary New Zealand indie label Flying Run quite literally begins with The Clean. Impressed by a slew of The Clean's live performances in their home town of Dunedin, New Zealand back in 1980, Roger Shephard began Flying Nun, simply in order to release the band's first single "Tally Ho." That song, an upbeat but simple post-punk number that crashed together jangling guitars and persistant organ melodies, surprised everybody with a considerable amount of commercial success in New Zealand, and became one of many songs by The Clean that found enthusiastic audiences in the US during the college rock days of the '80s, offering a quirky, exotic alternative to staples like REM, the Replacements, Robyn Hitchcock, and Elvis Costello.
Formed in 1978 by the Kilgour brothers David and Hamish, The Clean never stooped to the depths of the Gallagher brother's public fisticuffs; but the band -- which flushed out its membership with Robert Scott and (in the early days) Peter Gutteridge -- spent more time broken up than together. Yet, their eternally catchy pop songs became the blueprint for almost all of the other Flying Nun bands (in part due to the numerous Clean related projects on Flying Nun, including The Bats, The Great Unwashed, Bailter Space, Snapper, Stephen, and others). The Clean's self-explanatory "Anthology" runs through their numerous albums, offering a good chunk of their fantastic early work (the aforementioned "Tally Ho," the "Boodle Boodle Boodle" ep, the "Great Sounds..." ep, and a couple of oddities) on one disc. Edgy yet unswervingly optimistic, these songs were sloppy four-track recordings of monomaniacally simple rhythms, cacophonously jangly guitar melodies, and happy-go-lucky vocals. Disc two contains excerpts from the '90s albums "Vehicle," "Modern Rock," and "Unknown Country," which marked a considerable polishing of The Clean's sound, in part because they recorded that material in well established studios like Blackwing studios in London, but also as the songs, while still simple in their own right, were slightly more restrained.
Highly recommended!
This is a second pressing of "On The Beach," compiling tracks from the late '60s output of Philip Cohran, one of the founders of Chicago's AACM and early member of Sun Ra's Arkestra. While Sun Ra looked toward outer space for inspiration, Phil Cohran (himself an astronomer and mathematician) and his ensemble found manifestations of cosmic spirituality here on earth. Mining different musical traditions such as jazz, rhythm & blues, european classical, "eastern" music, but most specifically reaching into elements of african experience and heritage, the ensemble builds complex rhythms around melodic elements usually provided by Cohran's "frankiphone", a georgeously buzzing bell-like electrified thumb piano of his own design.
On "Unity," which appeared on the excellent Oulele comp a couple years ago, the percussion-heavy groove is anchored by the steady droning of Cohran's violin uke (I presume another of Cohran's designs?). The results go beyond "jazz," even when adding modifiers like avant- or afro-. This is soul music on a higher plane. So beautiful and powerful, this work fits into a larger picture that includes the afro-centric work of John Coltrane, Art Ensemble of Chicago's free-funk explorations with Fontella Bass, and Fela Kuti's consciousness raising jams. Members of the Artistic Heritage Ensemble went on to play with the likes of Miles Davis and Earth, Wind & Fire.
The cd is lovingly packaged in a hand letterpressed sleeve and contains two more tracks than the vinyl version.
Coltrane. Larger than life jazz legend. One of the greatest tenors, ever. Musical genius. Some people even think he's a goddamn saint. And yet, I just didn't care all that much. Giant Steps, Love Supreme -- pleasant enough stuff, for sure, but it always somehow struck me as background music. OK, jazz lover, put down your hand! You don't need to slap sense into me. Ascension already did that. Slappped me -- knocked me flat on my ass, actually, the first time I ever heard it. Listening to Ascension really is an intensely physical experience, as you are just pummeled by this wall of sound and emotion and expression. It's seriously one of the most intense and powerful recordings of any kind of music, ever. Hearing it made everything else Coltrane ever recorded make some kind of sense to me, as documents of a search for the ultimate means of expression and spiritual connection through sound. On Ascension, the results of that search reach a kind of force and power that belongs more often to nature than to mere musical recordings. While many critics and fans recognized the utter brilliance of this record upon its initial release, others were unable to follow Coltrane into the outer limits of free expression. Basically, the work reveals itself as a fierce and undeniable classic to the serious and adventerous listener (i.e. most Aquarius customers), although to some people it might still come across as anti-jazz.
For Ascension, Coltrane assembled a ten-person ensemble which included the "classic quartet" lineup of Jimmy Garrison, Elvin Jones and Mccoy Tyner, with the addition of Pharoah Sanders and Archie Shepp (tenors), Freddie Hubbard and Dewey Johnson (trumpets), and Marion Brown and John Tchicai (altos). The structure, as such, involves a string of solos bookended by freeform group improv, continuing uninterupted for approximately 40 minutes. The orginizational ideas reflect Coltrane's interest in and respect for free jazz innovators Albert Ayler and especially Ornette Coleman, whose landmark 1960 record Free Jazz is Ascension's clearest antecedent in terms of structure and innovation -- but Ascension pushes the envelope of unfettered expression even farther than that record. The recording session resulted in two different takes; Coltrane changed his mind about which version he preferred after the album's initial release, with represses presenting the alternate take. This Impulse cd, originally re-issued in 2000 but unlisted by us until now, contains both versions for your listening -- I don't know if "pleasure" is quite exactly the right word, as that might imply that the reward doesn't take a bit of work on the listener's part; let's say "for you're listening benefit." Ascension is a true masterpiece, a work to be approached with a degree of awe. Words like "mindblowing" and "essential" seem understated, despcription wise. It altered my understanding, both of John Coltrane and Jazz itself. Anyone interested in improvisational music owes it to themselves to own this.
Jazz giant John Coltrane's last recorded live concert performance, at Babatunde Olatunji's Center of African Culture in NYC, on Sunday April 23rd 1967 (only 3 months before Coltrane died), consisting of two half-hour pieces: the Afro-Brazilian "Ogunde" and
The first thing (the only thing?) you need to know about this Bay Area band is that "electric destruction fuzz guitar" is one of their instruments of choice. Wielded by Ethan Miller, and sometimes also by important Comets associate Ben Chasny of AQ fave acid-folk act Six Organs of Admittance, their "electric destruction fuzz guitar", with help from the band's fuzz bassist and sweaty drum maniac, puts Comets On Fire squarely into the psychedelic garage punk realm, shoulder to shoulder with the likes of 60's heavies Blue Cheer, and modern-day Japanese distortion fiends High Rise. Your friends from college will understand better if you compare Comets to Monster Magnet -- they channel the same sort of MC5-ish ass-kickin' and Hawkwind-like space-outin'. And if Ethan (and Ben's) acid wah guitar leads weren't enough, the Comets take things to a whole 'nother plane of noise with the Echoplex electronic tweakery of Noel Harmonson. His overdriven oscillations multiply the freak-out quotient beyond numerical calculation. And live, his spastic jerking and clapping will occupy your attention visually, at least until the guitarist wrangles his axe into a feedback frenzy jammed up against his amp.
But, there's another side to Comets On Fire, besides the distortion and the garagey riffs. Their loud freak-out elements are only part of an ecstatic musical continuum that also allows for the free jazz / ethnic massed bells and chant of track one, "Beneath The Ice Age". Two songs later, Six Organs guy Ben takes center stage, starting "The Unicorn" off with some improvised acoustic folk. Beautiful. Don't worry, though, 'cause soon enough the electric destruction fuzz guitar is back in action.
"Field Recordings From The Sun" totally rocks, is totally awesome, and is the excellent follow-up (that we'd been eagerly anticipating) to their self-titled, self-released vinyl-only debut reviewed here last year. We sell a lot of Acid Mothers Temple, we should sell as many of these guys! And if you're local, go see 'em, we're lucky they're here.
What has to be our favorite British pagan folk psychedelic prog rock album ever (in other words, quite possibly our favorite album ever, period!) is finally available again on cd, and in a gorgeous Japanese mini-lp gatefold sleeve to boot, with the disc itself all state-of-the-art remastered, sounding great.
THIS RECORD SCARES US. Hearing it is like stumbling upon some forbidden ancient ritual that scares you to death. You stand paralyzed, too afraid to look away. Comus's singular, frightening sound and violently poetic lyrics have kept them from taking their rightful place alongside Fairport Convention, Incredible String Band, and the rest of Britain's psychedelic folk royalty.
And we don't write the words psychedelic folk royalty without a certain amount of trepidation. At first glance Comus would seem to fit squarely in the Ren-Faire camp: bongos, flute, oboe, 12-string guitar, and no drummer. But never has the whole of a band so completely defied its parts; their sound is as mesmerizing as it is repulsive. Upon the record's initial release, one British music journalist wrote that she "didn't get past the first track, which sounded like a cross between a frenzied version of the witches chorus from Macbeth, and Marc Bolan being squeezed to death." Funny thing is, that's a fairly apt description. Tales of murder, rape, insanity, and witchcraft unfold amid a swirling abyss of seething acid folk. Squalls of shamanistic wailing jut uncomfortably from serene, tranquil melodies; guttural growls battle a delicate angelic chorus, echoing the violent struggle of the lyrics. Flutes, hand drums, acoustic guitars, and a violin clamber atop one another in a chaotic melee, creating a pagan folk not unlike that of The Wicker Man soundtrack gone totally bonkers.
Although the band has been resolutely ignored by mainstream music fans, the press, and the majority of the underground, a small rabid following has kept a reverential vigil beside the corpse of Comus.
Nurse with Wound cronies Current 93 modeled their '90s sound after '70s British folk, Comus especially. They even went so far as to cover "Diana," Comus's only single, on their album Horsey. Swedish progressive black metallers Opeth have always been outspoken about their love of Comus. Their acclaimed 1998 album was called My Arms, Your Hearse, after the lyrics of "Drip Drip" (on First Utterance). And it's not surprising. This record is so powerful and frightening and totally devastating even 30 years later.
And never would I have thought that a record as old as me, with flutes and bongos fer chrissakes, could be so absolutely malevolent, both sonically and lyrically! But like I said, this record scares us. And we know you like to be scared too!
We were hoping that this new cd edition would include the two bonus tracks from from an early single that the Italian vinyl reissue included as a bonus 12", but such is not the case. Oh well. Still ranks as one of our all time favorites.
Excellent reissue! Out of print since its release in 1972 when it went almost completely unnoticed, this album is finally available in special 30th anniversary boxed double disc format! A shorter version of it was available briefly in 1993 but this features a whole other disc of extra material.
It wasn't until after playing and performing for over ten years that the now-legendary experimental violinist Tony Conrad finally put his music down on wax. This was after his tenure as an integral member of the Theater of Eternal Music's Dream Syndicate with Lamonte Young, Marian Zazeela, John Cale, and Angus MacLise (NB: the latter two being founding members of the Velvet Underground, which got its band name from a paperback Conrad found lying in the street.) The Dream Syndicate's raison d'etre was exploring the sonic depth, meaning and sound of the almighty DRONE. A chance meeting with producer Uwe Nettelbeck resulted in an intense three-day recording session at Faust's secluded farm slash studio and it was here that Conrad finally got to breathe life into his own take on the drone. The Faust fellows supply a warm, insistent drum beat and a just as unstoppable bass throb. Both the bass *and the drum* are 'tuned' to specific notes over which Conrad lays his droning violin. And that's it. For half an hour. So great! Not boring at all -- your ears quickly become attuned to the waverings, harmonies, and other minute changes amongst the three elements. Fans of Neu, Can, Kraftwerk, and of course Faust NEED this. As does anyone into hypnotic droning rock ala AQ faves Circle, Highly recommended, definitely seminal album by one of the pioneers of drone.
Wow, what a gem of an album that I (Windy) can't believe I never heard before. Doubtless some of you are already aware of Karen Dalton, but for those of you who, like me, are new to her, here's the story:
The half-Irish, half-Cherokee Oklahoman moved to New York around 1960, where she immediately fell in with the Greenwich Village folk scene (there's an awesome photo here of her, Bob Dylan, and Fred Neil). Though Dalton didn't write her own songs, her interpretations of pieces by Fred Neil, Jelly Roll Morton, Tim Hardin, etc. are just lovely...
And HER VOICE! It's this glowing, honeydripping voice -- a country-blues Billie Holiday kind of voice. It is *stunning*. The instrumentation includes Karen on 12-string guitar and banjo, and she's got a talented band backing her up, but her gorgeous voice is foregrounded clearly throughout.
Includes lots of liner notes (written by Peter Stampfel of the Holy Modal Rounders, Fugs, etc.) that appear to only scratch the surface of this amazing woman: she was a lifelong dumpster diver, for one thing, and also a single mom. She was reportedly so shy that only by sort of tricking her into a recording session were these songs ever laid down on tape! Most of them are first and only takes, recorded in one day: so fresh, so alive, so sweet. Enjoy.
Recorded "live" in the studio, this recording expands on the "rock" side of Deerhoof-- those moments from "Reveille" that reminded us of the Who, with drummer Greg pounding mercilessly on his stripped down kit behind power chord outbursts. Those bits were sandwiched between more experimental fuckery, the whole thing rendered somewhat surreal by singer Satomi's high-pitched little-girl-on-acid vocals. On "Apple O," the damaged noise has been toned down somewhat to make way for the aforementioned rock, but there are also some very sweet, gentle and even romantic numbers, with acoustic guitar strum and a bit of lovely fragile falsetto from Greg. They even get jazzy for a minute (damaged Beefheart lounge jazzy, that is). Even amidst romantic sweetness, Deerhoof still retain a sense of the bizzarre, albeit an awfully cute kind of bizzarre. It's their balancing act between fucked-up noise and twisted yet adorable pop, crazy huge rock n' roll and vulnerable beauty that make Deerhoof the best band in San Francisco (at least in Marcy's opinion!). "Apple O" isn't as mind-bendingly amazing as "Reveille," but then it's difficult to repeat perfection. It's still super-awesome, and growing on me with every listen.
Gosh. What can I say? This is absolutely the finest moment of Deerhoof's recorded output. At 34 minutes, there is absolutely no filler on Reveille: it is an astonishingly precise and accomplished half hour of some of the most challenging, interesting avant-rock we've heard in a long long time. Jeff loves this album so much he almost started a record label just to put it out! The local trio of Satomi Matsuzaki, John Dieterich and Greg Saunier are old school; you can hear in their music the lessons they learned from vintage Bay Area weirdos like Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 and Caroliner, and from the famously avant garde Mills College music program -- all of which have resulted in a great, eccentric band whose aesthetic is fully formed, mature and confident. Satomi's light, singsong vocal delivery (similar to Boredoms' Yoshimi, Blonde Redhead, Yoko Ono) careens from stereo left to stereo right, a dose of melody and almost j-pop sweetness that plays perfectly against the macabre repeating guitar lines and the great, unpredictable, muscular drumming. Sudden stops and starts punctuate eight minute songs against one minute collages of noisy audio squiggles. Much like the Thinking Fellers did, Deerhoof juxtaposes melodic passages against weighty, distorted guitar a la Sonic Youth; they rarely descend to all-too-easy verse/chorus/verse trad songwriting, yet amazingly enough the album is quite accessible. Experimental music that everyone can enjoy. Wonderful. This record is perfection.
You suckers without turntables get yet another temporary reprieve, as Ekkehard Ehlers' five lovely mini-albums, previously released only on vinyl, are here compiled onto one handy cd. And lovely is most certainly an understatement. This is some of the most gorgeous, sublime and moving electronic/glitch/sample based music we have ever heard. Sounds are completely recontextualised into cloudy, indistinct but somehow emotionally and sonically spot-on homages to some of Ehlers' influences. Falling somewhere between Stephen Mathieu and Oval, Ehlers adds remarkable depth and emotion to what is quite often a cold and clinical artform.
Tracks one and two are the "Plays Cornelius Cardew" lp and are lovely layered soundscapes as only Ehlers can conjure. Sampled sounds are seamlessly woven into dense, textural tone poems again highly reminiscent of Wolfgang Voigt's Gas. The second (track three and four) in the "Plays" series is a 'tribute' to the German beat poet Hubert Fichte. Where those previous tracks are dominated by ephemeral drone work with refined patinas of digital corrosion, this piece curiously sounds like Pole doing free jazz, with erratic squiggles of granular synthesized saxophone and really lazy strums from a guitar seeping up from an electronically sculpted metallic haze. Even those slowly developed basslines that Pole plops into his neo-dub show up in "Plays Hubert Fichte" although Ehlers disregards Pole's structuralism in favor of an amorphous improvisation of deep hovering movements. "Plays John Cassavetes" (tracks five and six) is part three in Ehler's series of 'tributes' and for these pieces he seamlessly weaves orchestral samples into beautiful landscapes of sonic reverberations. Very reminiscent of Wolfgang Voigt's work as Gas, or those brief, subtle moments of bliss found on My Bloody Valentine's "Loveless" record. Tracks seven and eight find Ehlers sampling fragments of Albert Ayler. However, as with most of these pieces, it is debatable as to how much Ayler is actually present on this recording, musically. Consisting entirely of digitally altered cello recordings, these two sidelong pieces gently swell, teeter and expand, forming beautiful, haunting drones that lie beneath digital snippets of arrhythmic ephemera. Somehow, Ehlers manages to restructure a mundane cello recording into a wonderfully reticular songpoem. The final two tracks are from the 'Plays Robert Johnson' 7" which we were never able to get enough of to list. Two short tracks: the first is an abstractly plucked, slow-motion, Reynols-on-cough-syrup style tarpit blues jam, while the final track is all throbbing four-on-the-floor Kompakt style minimal/heroin house.
Trust us, we plow through a lot of pretentious electronic crap that takes itself too seriously -- and while the conceit of the five Ehler tributes might suggest that he could fall into this trap -- he does not. Ehlers delivers, and you'll love this. We all do.
An effusive title that roughly translates as "Politics Do Not Need An Enemy" and a cover photogragh of an individual wearing a t-shirt with a pre-9/11 image of the World Trade Center introduce this recording from German electronic music composer Ekkehard Ehlers. It's hard not to immediately qualify the music within as holding some sort of political agenda or at least some wry commentary about politics, culture, art, or whatever, simply because he's already loaded the metaphoric gun with rather powerful signifiers. For better or for worse, those political references remain an external device and Ehlers' music pursues a path entirely different.
Best known for the outstanding "Plays" series of homages to Cornelius Cardew, John Cassavettes, Albert Ayler, etc. and for his equally solid "Heroin" collaboration with Stefan Mathieu, Ehlers had developed a myopic fuzziness of digital pixelations from various samples, found sounds, and acoustic instrumentations. While the laptop is still the center of the Ehlers' world, the ephemeral drones which previously amassed from dense layerings of tiny sounds have subsided within "Politik Braucht Keinen Feind." Considering that the aesthetic flourishing of digital synthesis through programs like Max/ MSP and Supercollider has over-saturated the market, Ehlers' decision is certainly a good one. Here, he has culled strident samples from cello and bass clarinet performances and manipulated them into looped details. In turn, he has exaggerated many of those textures, such as through his increase of the bass frequencies from the bass clarinet into psychoacoustically potent tones and through his emphasis of the micro-abrasions between the bow and the cello's strings. These little events and gestures flutter into atonal orchestrations and psychically tense atmospheres which come across as something of a hybrid of Tony Conrad and Pierre Henry. Beautiful but uneasy listening.
ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL double-disc collection of cerebral low-brow art punk masterpieces. These tracks are culled from the tumultuous Rough Trade years (1980-83), when every record The Fall put out was a work of total genius. "Totally Wired" has almost every track from the "Palace of Swords Reversed" lp, which compiled their early singles, but includes album tracks from "Grotesque" and "Perverted By Language" as well. This era was the high point of Mark E. Smith's merciless skewering of the english language and English culture, perfectly backed by brilliantly ramshackle pop deconstructions. Single riff mastery, early keyboard dickery, anti-imperialist ranting, time travelling tales, primitively demented but danceable bass lines-- all part of The Fall's impeccable post-punk package. "Totally Wired" is by no means a comprehensive look at The Fall's massive recorded outlook, or even at their early years ("Dragnet" and "Live at the Witch Trials" are two great records from before they were on Rough Trade), but damn if it doesn't have a giant chunk of their very best songs. Mark E. may still drag himself around making mediocre records, but let that not muddy the legacy of The Fall. This stuff is just too fucking amazing!
Even packaged to look strikingly similar to an old Folkways LP release, this pair of Flynt releases on Locust sure do fit the "Hillbilly Blues" label more than any other release we've heard yet from him. And what's more, they're fucking great! No, you won't find any pseudo-ragas on either of these discs. This is wild and relentless, drone-y and hypnotic, sonically overwhelming neverending foot stomping, finger picked blues work outs. But as one might expect the workouts are static, shifting minutely and almost imperceptably if at all. Like a redneck hillbilly Terry Riley or La Monte Young.
The tracks on volume one go a little like this:
Track 1: Three and a half minutes of solo electric blues guitar, thankfully stripped of that awful standard blues chord progression.
Track 2: a short two and a half minute blast of nasal auctioneer style vocals, over a primitive country electric guitar riff.
Track 3: A massive twelve minutes of retarded toe tapping, to a hillbilly pizzicato on the fiddle that develops into increasingly manic sawing on just three notes.
Track 4: A gorgeous chunk of primitve, droney minimal blues, with humming vocals clocking in at a whopping 16 minutes.
Even packaged to look strikingly similar to an old Folkways LP release, this pair of Flynt releases on Locust sure do fit the "Hillbilly Blues" label more than any other release we've heard yet from him. And what's more, they're fucking great! No, you won't find any pseudo-ragas on either of these discs. This is wild and relentless, drone-y and hypnotic, sonically overwhelming neverending foot stomping, finger picked blues work outs. But as one might expect the workouts are static, shifting minutely and almost imperceptably if at all. Like a redneck hillbilly Terry Riley or La Monte Young.
The tracks on volume two go a little like this:
Track 1: Five minutes of minimal amplified fiddle with lots of echo/delay, like music for some sort of space rodeo.
Track 2: 13 minutes of what sounds like a similar version of the first track, although this time without the echo/delay and a little more sawing on the higher notes of the fiddle.
Track 3: very traditional sounding blues progression on the fiddle, but stretched out a little. Definitely the easiest listening on either disc.
Track 4: Ten minutes long. Revisits the melodies of track two, but the sawing is more feverish and the sound is more thick and much less minimal. Eventually mutates into a super saturated, head nodding, blissed out transcendental hoedown!
Brigitte Fontaine may get filed next to yeh-yeh girls like Francoise Hardy and Chantal Goya, but the eclectic avant-folk records she has been making with the help of percussionist Areski Belkacem since the seventies take the pop seed and mutate it far beyond the reach of any other French chanteuse. She cut a record with Art Ensemble of Chicago in 1971, and is making amazing records to this day, as evidenced by last year's excellent "Kekeland," featuring collaborations with the likes of Sonic Youth in addition to Areski. This is a reissue of her self-titled album from 1972, and it moves through the sounds of gorgeous pychedelic folk, string and organ-backed polyphonic liturgical-style chants advocating power to the people, medieval prog stylings, bizarre poetics, spoken word, barnyard avant-jazz, and the odd bout of screaming or anti-capitalist rallying. Her seductive voice grounds a kind of dada futurism that emerges alongside the deft navigation of styles, a hallmark of her work. Brigitte Fontaine's brand of cerebral pop experimentalism puts her in a strata attained by few artists. What reference points I can dig up-- Art Ensemble (of course), the best Os Mutantes records, Yoko Ono as a French situationist-- don't really suffice to explain Briggitte Fontaine's haunting oeuvre. Let me just say that listening to this album makes me giddy with joy (seriously!), and comes highly recommended, as does the reissue of 1971's "L'incendie."
I somehow missed out on the first round of this reissue a little bit ago, but luckily for all of us, it's popped up again! This is an amazing collaboration between two totally incredible musical explorers, french chanteuse Brigitte Fontaine (with percussionist partner Areski) and avant-jazz greats Art Ensemble of Chicago, recorded during the Art Ensemble's stay in Paris in 1969. Though coming from very different backgrounds, each artist's idiosyncratic approach, commitment to experimentation, disregard for genre boundaries, and keen sense for improvisation and working collaboratively yields an album that pushes each performer to new heights. The blend of Fontaine's vocals, Areski's understated percussion, and the Art Ensemble's horns is really seamless, evoking the mysterious, intriguing sounds of lounge jazz in a dada cafe, or, well, an intellectual french chanteuse melding avant-folk with free jazz, which is exactly what it is. Brigitte Fontaine is becoming more and more cemented as one of my absolute favorite artists ever whith each reissue I get my hands on. So great, so recommended!
Glass Candy's debut full length sounds not unlike a severely chemically altered collision between the Missing Persons (y'know, the '80s new wave group from L.A. responsible for "Destination Unknown", "Mental Hopscotch" and "Walking In L.A." with squeaky-voiced, hottie chanteuse Dale Bozzio) and Altered Images (remember them? the '80s British pop band with squeaky-voiced, cutie chanteuse Clare Grogan who were responsible for "Happy Birthday" and "See Those Eyes"). However, the music that backs GC vocalist Ida No (who, for the record, has a voice much richer, if no less affected, than the aforementioned ladies) is nothing like that of either of those groups whatsoever. Glass Candy (formerly Glass Candy & the Shattered Theater) push a dark, stripped-down aesthetic of big guitar, streamlined, insistent, pounding drums, and stylized vocals bathed in delay, with the occasional addition of heavy, A Certain Ratio-esque basslines and synths. At their hair-raising best, Glass Candy remind me of an unholy combo of Christian Death ("Romeo's Distress," "Jesus, Where's the Sugar" -- when Christian Death was good, they were amazing, OK?) and the Stooges. Before it was goth, it was death rock, and before that it was just punks wearing a lot of eye make-up-- and Glass Candy embody that tough, raw rock n' roll energy mixed with sexy, theatrical glamour perfectly. It's a tough task to fully capture the insane energy of their live shows (which are well known to be trainwrecks of throbbing, writhing dramatics) on record, but I think "Love Love Love" is to the challenge. An impressive and satisfying debut that situates Glass Candy near the top of a current group of bands (including fellow Portlanders Get Hustle and Baltimore's Love Life) referencing the darker side of post-punk. Includes an appropriately intense, wrenching cover of the Screamers' "I Wanna Hurt."
I've been fretting over what to say about this not-so-newly released record, so let's keep it simple. This is a straight-up, totally solid album of unassuming but great hip-hop, classic style. Long delayed in official release and boasting production from DJ Premier, Pete Rock, and Prince Paul, this one comes highly recommended.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
In what may be an odd way of constructing a soundtrack, the Quay Brothers commissioned the soundtrack of their film Institute Benjamenta to be composed by Lech Jankowski who did not have the privilege to see a single frame of the film before writing the music. The Quay Brothers in turn took Jankowski's dark Polish folk/jazz for guitar, violin, double bass, and minimal percussion and sculpted the film around the score.
Daptone Records has been putting out some of the hardest, heaviest funk 45s this side of 1969 since emerging from Desco (responsible for the awesome afrobeat of the Daktaris) a couple years ago. This is the debut full length from Daptone staples Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. Raised in the south on a diet of James Brown and singing in gospel choirs, Miss Jones is the real thing-- her voice overflows with "pure soul exitement," as per Daptone's mission. The Dap Kings recreation of a bygone era of funk is incredibly well executed and hits you right in the hips with infectious danceability, although the intentional anachronism is taken to pretty extreme levels. You won't find any release date on the album- and a Daptone magazine ad cheekily placed the release date in 1972. That aside, this is a great record regardless of era. "Dap-dippin'" pulls of feats such as infusing a cover of Janet Jackson's "What Have You Done For Me Lately" with a super-sized dose of bad ass soul- nice! Definitely one juicy bit of funk.
Ahhhh ouuuuiii... Le nouveau super rockin' release from our French-Canadian friends Les Georges Leningrad. Poney, Bobo and Mingo (a trio now after losing one member through interpersonal conflict) deliver astounding electronoisepop compositions on Sur Les Traces De Black Eskimo. Groovy beats and spastic outbursts are prominent characters in the song craft they call petrochemical rock. Why they are obsessed with 'black eskimo', je ne sais pas. Mais, je t'aime, Les Georges. If you have the chance to see them live, they generously offer an award-winning show, featuring self-made costumes and an arresting stage presence. Their artwork is all done by the band members themselves and est la superbe. Check it!
I feel compelled to lay this on the table: I am totally, absolutely biased toward loving this album. The way I feel about Low is indelibly intertwined with the fact that my first experiences listening to them occurred in my impressionable, and typically miserable, teenage years. While many of my other favored sonic vehicles for massive teen mope fests have long been sold off and forgotten, I still treasure my Low records. This is in no small part due to the fact that they continue to release one record after another that expands and pushes their sound without abandoning the essential Low-ness that made me like them in the first place. That "Low-ness" could, at first, be simply attributed to their glacial pace and minimalist approach, but as their records become more and more lush and full, finding space for added instrumentation and songs that increasingly use the vernacular of straight up rock/pop, something else emerges as the core.
"Trust" continues the momentum established in "Secret Name" and "Things We Lost in the Fire," albeit in a way that is not as immediately graspable as those albums, both of which struck me immediately with their undeniable pop sensibility and catchiness tempered with dark themes. Where vocal-musical interplay on "Things We Lost in the Fire" resulted in an almost black-comedic bleakness, "Trust" regains a more purely somber tone (with the possible exception of the album's fuzz-rocking *hit* "Canada") that repeatedly deals with a worldview informed by ambiguous religious imagery. As Mormons, Mimi Parker and Alan Sparhawk surely have a relationship with a higher power, but through their chilling songs one gets the feeling that their god is one of impartial omnipotence and destruction as sure as one of love and creation. It is, perhaps, this exploration of the capability of life and the forces in it to deliver both tragic and beautiful moments, often simultaneously, that makes Low so fucking great.
A bit more about "Trust": Albini didn't produce this one, and there aren't any string arrangements, although the bigness of sound is still there. There's a re-emergence of a kind of minimal two-note dirge a la "Long Division" or "The Curtain Hits The Cast" (see "Candy Girl"), although the spaces that existed in the songs on those records are filled in a bit here with reverb and spacy fuzz. If you already like Low, of course you need this. If there's any tendency at all in your record collection toward the sparse and melancholic, then you need this as well, because Low has shown more versatilty and virtuosity within a potentially limiting genre than anyone else, and this album is so gorgeous it hurts.
This is a send-shivers-up-your-spine record, and I mean that in a couple ways -- it all depends on where you stand opinion wise in regards to Nico's talent, in or out of the context of the Velvet Underground. I personally beleive that Nico is an artist of some great depth, as evidenced by this immeasurably cold and beautiful record from the ultimate ice queen. On "Desertshore," originally released in 1970 and now repressed on vinyl by the good people at 4 Men With Beards, the primary instrumentation is Nico's harmonium, with additional backing from John Cale. The harmonium, Cale's viola, and Nico's distinctive voice blend to create multiple layers of incredibly dark, extended, buzzing drones. The overall picture is mysterious and bleak; it's not only my favorite Nico record, but also one of the best post-Velvets records by any former members.
Before I get into any critique of this, I have to say that Salt Marie Celeste is easily the best Nurse With Wound record in years!
Throughout the 25 years of Nurse With Wound recordings, Steven Stapleton has actively pursued audio manifestations of Surrealism, often hypothesizing on what Surrealists like Andre Breton or Tristan Tzara might do if they had access to contemporary recording technology but still maintaining their bastardizations of Victorian aesthetics. Recently on recordings like Man with the Woman Face or Alice the Goon, NWW embraced obtuse free associations to build dense sound puzzles of dead-end jokes, absurd parataxis, and general confusion. However, Salt Marie Celeste is far simpler an application of Surrealism, as Stapleton renders NWW a vehicle for psychological horror. For this album, Stapleton and studio wizard Colin Potter (who has been the only other collaborator with NWW for the past couple of releases) have drawn from Gavin Bryars' "Sinking of the Titanic" for inspiration; however, NWW never dwells in the lulling pathos which characterizes Bryars' composition. Instead, Salt Marie Celeste is a relentless album which imagines the tidal currents around the Titanic's demise as an inhumanly cold force steadily bringing the doomed ship to the bottom of the ocean. Through a series of looping mechanisms, Stapleton and Potter build a massive orchestration of fluctuations which swell and dissipate with an unnerving regularity. The central element to the compostition is an ominous wave of electronic sound which constantly tumbles forward. Fans of NWW will recognize this from the super limited edition Music from the Horse Hospital 2cd, yet done much more effectively here. Wooden creaks and moans emerge from this gravity well of sound, before breaking up and disappearing amidst the tidal wave of intensity. For the references to the Titanic (or at least in Bryars' composition), Salt Marie Celeste conjures suffocating and bleak images of ghost ships mysteriously appearing on the horizon.
Regardless, this is clearly one of Nurse With Wound's best and should not be missed!
Daniel Padden, of English improvisational psych-folksters Volcano the Bear, creates meandering, lovely music that has received comparisons to artists as accomplished as This Heat, Soft Machine, and Art Ensemble of Chicago. Distant and spooky to warm and languid, "The One Ensemble Of..." features subtle improv mixed with sparse, repetetive, melodic piano, and manges to make kazoos sound sad and beautiful. Instrumentation also includes violin, cello, saxophone, harmonium, ballaphon (like a Ghanian xylophone), and other "little instruments." A wistful, gorgeous and strange album.
Since emerging along with the Dead Boys from Rocket From The Tombs, Pere Ubu have continued to survive through numerous breakups, reformations and incarnations, including frontman David Thomas' solo efforts. With recent efforts by other seminal art-punk bands (*ahem* Wire) lacking the creativity and vision of the early releases which brought them acclaim (in the underground, at least), it's more than reassuring that this newest Pere Ubu album is quietly great. Musically, 'St Arkansas' bears little resemblance to the sharp dissonant punk of Modern Dance but thankfully avoids the pop of their later eighties efforts. Gone is Thomas' hyper-manic yelping, and in its place a much more sinister growl. We find here an Ubu of dark, slow burn intensity. St. Arkansas is so infused with creepiness that comparisons to Tom Waits seem unavoidable. It makes sense: there's a thread of lowlife drifterdom, a mysterious desperation, a desire to break free through the transcendence of the open road -- and the radio, as outlined mantra-like in the heavyweight final track. Worth your attention.
Ever since the release of that great Soul Jazz "In The Beginning There Was Rhythm" compilation on which The Pop Group appear, and also with the rise of current artists like San Francisco's Erase Errata whose work shares and reflects the spirit and energy of
Formed in 1978 by four young men from Bristol, The Pop Group unleashed itself from the frigid political environment of their native England and its narrowing punk scene. Lyrically and visually committed to leftist political ideals (much like their peers in Crass and some time later, The Ex), and sonically more "out" and dissonant than any other "punk" act of their time, The Pop Group abandoned the "no future" stereotypes for more serious and thought provoking ideas both ideological and musical.
Produced by veteran reggae/dub producer and musician Dennis Bovell, who was also responsible for "Cut" by The Slits, another post-punk outfit with whom The Pop Group happened to share an early single (the fabulous "Where There's A Will" backed by The Slits' "In The Beginning There Was Rhythm"), this explosive 1979 debut kicks off with "Thief Of Fire" in which short blasts of guitar noise fills in the gaps where an aggressive bass funk and a primitive percussive drive weave in and out of each other. From there on, the record just gets more and more angular, outrageous, and weird as it unfolds. "Snowgirl" features crackling guitarwork accompanied by macabre tinkling piano and the odd wail of vocalist Mark Stewart (who would go on to form Tackhead and become an integral part of the On-U Sound collective). And of course there's the "hit" single (and arguably their defining moment), "She Is Beyond Good And Evil", a must-hear (it's also on the "In The Beginning There Was Rhythm" comp).
The booklet has lyrics in English and Japanese as well as a nice collage of photos. Highly recommended! While we are sure to soon run out of this hard-to-get import, we've been assured we'll be able to get more of them within a few weeks, never fear.
The excellent split LP that Six Organs Of Admittance recently did with Charlambides really whet our appetite for this disc, the third full-length album from Ben Chasny (Six Organs, on record at least, is pretty much just him). Actually, we've been eager for
Several years ago, while listening to excellent Bay Area college radio station KFJC, a particular track of hypnotic, droning psych caught my ear -- buzzing, repetitive acoustic guitar and organ and a mysterious voice intoning "prayer for the su-unnnn..." over and over, all building into a loose, dirgey trance. Gorgeous. Further listening revealed the mysterious voice as belonging to Ben Chasny, aka Six Organs of Admittance. Soon thereafter, my ever thoughtful roommates returned from a John Fahey show, at which Six Organs had been the opener, bearing an LP on which I was excited to find the track I loved. A bit of time passed, and lamentably, so did John Fahey; Six Organs has gone on to make two great albums as well as lending a considerable hand to Comets On Fire on their awesome "Field Recordings from the Sun." This here is a long-awaited cd reissue of that first Six Organs LP, with the addition of 2 tracks from a limited 8" lathe-cut disc. While Chasny seems to be getting better and better, as evidenced by his best and most recent record "Dark Noontide," the darkly psychedelic 4-track ramblings on this disc find his signature sound fully in place-- an immediately recognizable way of attacking an acoustic guitar into a state of humming, reverbrating submission, that resonant baritone, and detours into percussive experimentation, all ritualistic and, I'll say it again, thoroughly hypnotic. So Nice.
MPEG Download: "Sum of All Heaven" [/audio/sixorganssumofallheaven.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Sum of All Heaven" [/audio/sixorganssumofallheaven.m3u]
Thought we'd better get around to listing this, since it was finally reissued domestically at a much cheaper price! "Taking Drugs To Make Music To Take Drugs To" is one of the best album titles ever, and at least for the heavy pharmaceutical users in Spacemen 3, it's certainly a fitting one. Recorded in the winter of 1985 / 86, the album is actually the most rock of all of the Spacemen 3 albums as their 13th Floor Elevators buzz meets the intensity of early Stooges. Sonic Boom and Jason Pierce felt that the versions of the songs found on "Taking Drugs" were better than those on the subsequent albums. And that may just be true! Easily one of the best and most important documents of eighties space-psych!
Whether you're young or old, into rock or not, male or female, you gotta hear Marquee Moon. If you already know it, then you can skip down to the description of the bonus tracks below, but if you haven't heard it before, then know that Marquee Moon is simply perfection from beginning to end, and is here reissued with 5 bonus tracks. Television's masterpiece came out in 1977 and is inarguably one of the best albums to come out of the New York punk scene (which also included the Ramones, Patti Smith, Blondie, Heartbreakers, etc). Tom Verlaine's sinewy vocals are half-sung, half-spit out over his and Richard Lloyd's interweaving guitars, the solid bass of Fred Smith, and equally solid drumming of Billy Ficca. Richard Hell (later of the Heartbreakers and Voivoids) was also a founding member of the band who stuck around long enough to record their demo but got kicked out before the album, although his influence is definitely heard.
There's so much on this album to love: there's the rollicking guitar party of "See No Evil", the tender piano and epic melodic guitar solo in "Guiding Light", the stark, stunningly lovely twin guitar interplay of the album's 10 minute selftitled centerpiece, etc etc... dammit, this album is BRILLIANT and PERFECT.
As for the bonus tracks, there's the out-there "Little Johnny Jewel" from the band's debut selfreleased 7", alternate versions of "See No Evil" (amazing! -- Richard Lloyd playing quite different stuff from what ended up on the released take), "Friction", and "Marquee Moon" (again, fascinatingly different guitar solos -- and not terrible, thank goodness), and a sprightly, fun instrumental. If you already own this album and love it, I'd advise you to check out the alternate tracks -- they actually are worthy of trading in yer old copy (at least I, Windy, am going to!)
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
From hidden in some dusty vault (we imagine) for lo these past thirty years, Quakebasket -- the label reponsible for that great ongoing series of archival Angus Maclise vinyl-only documents -- has exhumed this beautiful recording by another sixties era musical mystic, the mysterious multi-instrumentalist Christopher Tree. Unfamiliar with Tree until now, we're quite grateful this has finally been released. Recorded live back in 1970 at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City, "Spontaneous Sound" features the long-haired, bearded Tree as a one-man improvising orchestra, utilizing gongs, cymbals, chant, chimes, bells, tympanis, horns, and some other rather more unusual instruments designed for him by none other than the legendary Harry Bertoia. Apparently, Tree played for children, although this is hardly kids stuff (unfortunately there's no liner notes, but there is a charming children's drawing of Tree and his instruments in action). Tree's music evokes a higher-mind, darkly cosmic spirituality of sound similar to that of AQ-fave '70s Japanese psychedelic experimentalists the Taj Mahal Travellers. We're also reminded of the excellent recent "Solaris" disc by contemporary sonic drone artists Mirror, and of other work from the Andrew Chalk/Christoph Heemann/Jonathan Coleclough/Colin Potter/etc. axis. The cd (or lp) package's rather wonderful photos of Tree surrounded by his battery of instruments -- which fill the stage -- might lead you to expect some sort of percussion frenzy, but that's far from the case. No, this is calm and contemplative, yet powerful. Almost magically, Tree conjures an ancient, droning soundworld of gently melodic, drifting woodwinds, oceanic cymbal washes, and deep gong reverberations...really fantastic. Imagine a more intimate, softer side to Hermann Nitsch's droneworks, equally medieval but not so malevolent. And, to top it off, the guy's name is Tree! We're in love.
When a friend made the mistake of loaning me the original lp version of this record, I fell immediately in love with it and refused to give it back. Luckily for him, and all of us, its turn has come in the line of ESP reissues.
This was the first recording as group leader from Tyler, who spent time playing baritone with Cecil Taylor and appears on Albert Ayler's "Bells" and the monumental "Spirits Rejoice." Bassist Henry Grimes and cellist Joel Friedman also played with Ayler, while drummer Ronald Shannon Jackson and Charles Moffet, who contributes orchestra vibes, both spent time drumming with Ornette Coleman.
Beginning with almost delicate interspersings of dual bass/ cello arco, prominent vibes, and Tyler's vibrato-heavy alto skittering, by the second track the quintet is in full frenzy mode (at times very reminiscent, understandably, of Ayler's detourned marches). All the players are awesome, from the hyper speed-bop to gentle and textural playing of Jackson, to the welcome brightness of Moffet's vibes -- but the real key to my love of this album is Joel Friedman's fantastic cello playing. Working frantically, Friedman stretches the full range of his instrument's notes and multiple textures in full throated, layered harmonic, truly intense fashion, and provides an extremely interesting focal point while never overwhelming Tyler's soloing. While not attaining the pummeling highs of the canon of free jazz classics, this is still a great session of some very talented and under-appreciated musicians. Compelling listening.
We just got the first batch of the Indonesia / South Pacific installment of Nonesuch's Explorer reissues, which total 12 in number. Ten of the discs are from either Java or Bali and just about each one features an entirely different form of gamelan. A Gamelan, as a cursory way of introduction, is an orchestra of primarily bronze (though bamboo gamelan are also common) percussion instruments -- metallophones, gongs, gong-chimes -- and drums. Quite often a gamelan will have a specific repertoire that it is exclusively built for the performance of, and certain ceremonial gamelan are limited to the performance of a single piece. On top of this, throughout Java and Bali there is an ever changing world of both village and court traditions which continue to defy definitions. These discs just in from Bali and Central & Western Java just scratch the surface of gamelan throughout Indonesia, but they're a fine introduction anyway.
Back in 1967 when this record hit the shelves it blew people's minds, and even today it remains one of the most unique and amazing things you're likely to hear. "Golden Rain" is the historic recording that started it all. Recorded by David Lewiston in 1966, Golden Rain was not only the first recording to be released in the Explorer series, but is touted as the first commercial release of "International" music (a claim that some might argue with.)
The first two tracks are recordings of Gamelan Gong Kebyar. The 20-minute third track is Lewiston's recording of kecak, the almost universally loved monkey chant. Kecak has an interesting history in that its creation in the 1930s is due at least in part to German artist Walter Spies, a cultural outsider. The performance is entirely a cappella, with a male chorus of 60+ men chanting in an interlocking fashion derived from gamelan composition. The origins of the chant come from a ritual exorcism dance that's centuries old. The thing about Balinese performance, at least up until later this century, is that it was all inseparably tied to ritual, be it a wedding ceremony, funerals, and other various life cycle ceremonies. Bali's increasing popularity as a tourist destination for middle class and wealthy Europeans in this century was coupled with these same tourists wanting to be entertained by their exotic hosts. Unfortunately for them, there was not only no concept of performance merely for entertainment's sake and not being Balinese, their presence at any such ritual event was violation of its sacrosanctity. Spies' work in encouraging his Balinese friends to create a completely new performance from older traditions, whatever his intentions may have been, allowed for the Balinese to keep the purity of their rituals intact and for the occidentals to get their kicks.
While not as famous as Amha Eshete (Amha Records), Ali Abdella Kaifa and his Kaifa records was still a heavyweight in Ethiopia's golden age of record production. Kaifa essentially took up the slack from Eshete when the latter went into exile in 1975 due to the country's increasingly hostile military government. Entering the music business in 1973 with the release of the first 45s on his label, Kaifa didn't just materialize in Eshete's absence. But it was the release of Mahmoud Ahmed's legendary "Ere Mela Mela" -- the album that would become the first Ethiopian recording to be released in Europe -- that really put Kaifa on the map. He was also the one who discovered Aster Aweke (who later fled Ethiopia to build a successful career as a world beat artist in the late eighties.) All but two tracks in this collection were recorded between 1976 and 1977 at the tail end of of Ethiopia's record industry, which was squashed in 1978 (at which point Kaifa continued to produce music on cassettes.) Along with the usual collection of male vocalists (Alemayehu Eshete, Hirut Bekele, Ayalew Mesfin and Tamrat Ferendji) there are four tracks featuring female vocalists (unfortunately underrepresented in this series) Bzunesh Beqele and the duo of Asselefetch Ashine & Getenesh Kebret. Ashine & Kebret must be heard to be believed, their unearthly parallel harmonies sharing the limelight wonderfully with the Army Band's flautist and arranger Teshome Sissay.
Longtime readers of AQ's list might have caught notice of this volume's title "Ethiopian Groove", as we had once stocked an album of the same name many years ago (see AQL #42). Indeed this album is the very same as the now out of print one on Blue Silver (in fact Ethiopiques series editor Francis Falceto was the one who compiled the earlier release), but with a few differences. While Ethiopiques #13 is unfortunately missing three of the Aster Aweke tracks that graced the original Ethiopian Groove CD, it is supplemented by the addition of two tracks by saxophonist Seyoum Gebreyes, two by vocalist Muleqen Mellesse and greatly expanded liner notes & photos. We can only hope that Buda Musique is intending to issue an entire CD dedicated to Aster Aweke and her earliest recordings for Kaifa. Until then, those of you with the original Ethiopian Groove should hold onto it.
