Singleversity #4

Audiversity’s weekly column on random music in a predetermined number of words. This week's randomly generated number: 133. (We got sick of 144)

(Ed. - Originally this was called Threeversity, but in the spirit of simplicity we've decided to retroactively relabel all of these posts. The content remains unchanged.)

MA:
(#133 of a random playlist generated from my ever-changing database of 12,500+ songs)



Bigg Jus - Anything You See Fit (Change by Design) - Poor People's Day (Mush 2005)

When we think Company Flow, we think the reinvention of underground hip-hop in the mid-90s, we think aggressive, witty, dense, unrelenting rap, we think Rawkus, we think El-P, we think Funcrusher Plus and the knowledgeable of us think DJ Mr. Len. How many of you had Bigg Jus immediately cross your mind after I mentioned Company Flow? Probably none. Jus was the last in, first out of the prolific NYC crew, but his as-impenetrable lyrical flow counterpointed El-P’s with skill and aptitude. These days he runs with the colorful Mushonauts, unsuccessfully searching for beats that can hang with his snaking vocal prowess. “Nutrients feed the life oxygen to my brain, vibration, wisdom / ignorance and knowledge through experience guided by intuition / this is gunships.” This is battling in the cerebral.

PM:








Northstation, a guy about as far removed from the intensity and activity of the Big Apple or the City of Lights as you can get. Steve Fanagan is the one-man machine behind "This Town is Drunk Again," a sparkling instrumental culled from The White Noise Revisited who culled it themselves from Norman Records in Leeds. Awesome thing about Northstation: The album Wagtail was only 121 copies strong, sold through three record stores (the other two were in Germany and Hong Kong), and individually hand-stitched in packaging with names so you know exactly what yours is. Though Fanagan also works under the Moose Eats Leaf and Wrecking Ball aliases, it’s Northstation and Wagtail that stand as his most outstanding works. Dear Steve: The White Noise Revisited aren't the only ones out here listening. Cheers.

JR:



Whats on French TV these days? Lyon's wrapped up Ligue 1 yet again, and I doubt that Foucault v. Chomsky intellectual cage matches still grace the public awareness, despite France's status of Intellectual Holyland. Judging by this sleek vid for Thomas Bangalter's edit of the DJ Mehdi burner "Signatune", Pimp My Ride has captured the imagination of young Frenchmen. I wasn't aware that we exported car culture across the pond, but I guess that mode of transportation as status symbol is engrained into our collective unconscious. Bangalter understands how to tap that Jungian shit, penetrating the depths of your being, shaking loose that primal desire to get up and get down for a truly sick groove. Check this French chav anthem, world-beating drama unfolding to blissed out dance music for the ages.

New Music: CocoRosie, Deerhunter

CocoRosie - Japan (removed by request) (Touch and Go 2007)

CocoRosie – The Adventures of Ghosthorse and Stillborn / Touch and Go

To me at least, the immediate popularity of CocoRosie is somewhat of an anomaly. Sprung on to our ears out of nowhere in 2003, and on Touch and Go nonetheless, the sisters Casady dropped one of the weirdest and surprisingly infectious debuts in years with La Maison de Mon Rêve, and fans reacted accordingly. Utilizing a wavering combination of quirky folk, bedroom psychedelia, found sound, mutated hip-hop and the epic nature and slight characteristics of opera, to say CocoRosie is an individualistic group is an vast understatement. But then again, with our current New Weird America obsession where similar oddballs Joanna and Antony reign as queen and king (gender specification used loosely) respectively, I guess it’s not that much out of the ordinary. Their amazingly quick rise to fame is baffling but warranted, and they’ve got most of indie-America, including myself, picking up each concurrent album just to see what they pull out of their androgynous top hat next. And while I’d call 2005’s sophomore album Noah’s Ark somewhat of a misstep, their footing is as solid as ever with the this latest disc, The Adventures of Ghosthorse and Stillborn (see, even the album title has peaked your curiosity… well done ladies).

The back-story of the duo is somewhat confusing, mostly because of their penchant for all things French. Sierra and Bianca Casady are actually not French at all, but they did reunite in Paris after a decade of separation while the former was studying opera at the Paris Conservatory. They are in fact half-Cherokee with the older sibling, Sierra, being born in Iowa and Bianca born a couple years later in Hawaii. The moniker stems from childhood when their mother nicknamed them Coco (Bianca) and Rosie (Sierra), and their estranged father was/is(?) involved with Shamanism and the Peyote religion, which certainly has an influence on their music. After Bianca grew tired of Brooklyn in 2003, she unexpectedly showed up at Sierra’s apartment in Paris and the sisters immediately began tinkering with music. The results were a hip-hip album supposedly called “word to the crow,” which has never been released, and La Maison de Mon Rêve, their debut for Touch and Go. This album took indie-rock by storm with its oddball bedroom psychedelia and elevated them to underground stardom. Noah’s Ark, which was much more influenced by their contemporaries and friends, Devendra Banhart and Antony Hegarty, received mixed reactions; I heavily prefer the former.

The Adventures of Ghosthorse and Stillborn finds the sisters returning somewhat to the initial sound they purveyed, especially the hip-hop influence. I would detail the album’s overarching storyline, but I’ll be damned if I can decipher all of the fantasy-inspired parallels. The press release rambles on with lines like “It’s a cruel circus, like hunting unicorns or killing My Little Pony” and “From her humble beginnings in the South of France, the saga sailed the Seven Seas all the way to that icy crack in the Earth’s crust just outside Reykjavik.” I don’t know if this will help the context either, but apparently while Noah’s Ark was inspired by infamous French writer and political activist Jean Genet, this album is guided spiritually by the Scottish nursery rhyme character Wee Willie Winkie, who refused to go to sleep at bedtime until he was hauled off to jail… at least I think. Anyways, as I mentioned earlier, the album is much more in the vein of La Maison de Mon Rêve with a heavy hip-hop influence along with their continued musical maturity. “Rainbowarriors” features a pretty damn catchy, found-soundish beat accentuated with rain sticks and a high-pitched synth yelp while Sierra sings/raps overtop. Like most of La Maison, it’s surprisingly and confusingly catchy. “Japan” is probably next in line of noteworthiness; it builds off of light harp plucks and a thick bass line with scream-along choruses. Sierra’s child-like croon is doubled with a Boba Fett-like processor and about three-fourths way through, the driving song deconstructs into an operatic bridge before returning full-force. Tracks like “Werewolf,” “Animals” and “Raphael” follow suit with patient, pieced-together beats and sometimes lush and beautiful, sometimes awkward and weird musical accompaniment. Where Noah’s Ark blindly meandered in the latter, The Adventures balances both approaches with a good degree of success. While I don’t see it credited anywhere, the unmistakable voice of Antony shows up on a few occasions, most apparent on the lullaby closer “Miracle.”

While The Adventures maybe the most accessible album yet by CocoRosie, they haven’t even begun to approach any kind of crossover success. But the sisters Casady sound very comfortable in their individual and strangely effective niche, so why venture away from what’s working? I know I keeping emphasizing how surprised I am at their success, but c’mon, you have to admit that this is some wacky music, no matter how infectious it may be. Go play this for your mom and see how she reacts. Nonetheless, I have to give CocoRosie all the props in the world because they are truly carving out their own individual path and their unrestrained creativity has to be respected.







Deerhunter - Fluorescent Grey (Kranky 2007)

Deerhunter – Fluorescent Grey EP / Kranky

Remember Deerhunter? I know we have to reach way back to January to revisit this one, which is like twenty-one years in blogosphere time (that I've calculated to something like one month equals seven years of pre-internet time), but if you check the archives, their sophomore album took us all by storm. Hopefully not forgotten by the time we get around to December's year-end list frenzy, Cryptograms was a swirling, raucous, hypnotic mess of 60s psyche-pop and 80s post-punk that lifted the Atlanta quintet into the upper stratosphere of indie respect, at least for the month of January. And the tumultuous back-story (oh the back-story!) of nearly throwing in the towel after a death in the band, recording the entire breakthrough album in just two epiphanic afternoons, a made-for-the-stage lead singer who looks like he's coked-out but actually suffers from a genetic disorder that causes his limbs to be awkwardly elongated, and a MySpace page that proudly displays disgusted anti-fan letters. I mean what else do you need!? Deerhunter became the toast of the forever fickle underground music town, loved by the masses of heavily opinionated, unpaid writers (including ourselves, but surprisingly not AMG… maybe they are actually paid) and poised for the inevitable backlash. But I have yet to come across any said backlash, which is impressive in its own right, and the always strategic brains of Kranky are masterfully stringing us along with a brand new EP of unreleased material along with releasing Cryptograms for the first time on wax accompanied by these new songs. Deerhunter may just live to be thirty-five (which translates to early June if you weren't paying attention earlier) with this new momentum.

So now we get back to the music. The Fluorescent Grey EP was recorded while Cryptograms was being mixed, which is a very important aspect when digesting this new music. These four songs are pre-popularity explosion, so they were NOT recorded in reaction to their newfound fame. I emphasize this just in case you come across any ill-informed critic ranting nonsensical about the band selling out or something equally ridiculous, but hopefully that won't be an issue. What you do get though is a sort of epilogue to Cryptograms; a few extra songs to try and fill that void left when the tape ran out on "Heatherwood." Like their Kranky debut, this EP features an urgent swirl of clamoring psychedelic rock that's been dragged through a muggy bog of reverb and feedback. I want to say it's more akin to the sunnier, latter half of Cryptograms, but it actually very much stands on its own. The opening title track builds from a simple, mellow piano melody into a cyclical array of screaming electric guitars, post-punky bass lines, chugging drums and singer Bradford Cox's inviting, rhythmic vocals, which really acts as its own instrument after being strung through a number of hazy processors by the song's end. And most surprisingly, he's counteracted with both a higher-pitched female voice and a gruff croak of which he contributes a very comfortable mid-point. The uncredited female vocals return for "Dr. Glass" which grooves along on an awkward organ melody and infectious rhythm section of sleigh bells and handclaps. I'm digging the dual vocalists; it significantly warms the Deerhunter sound. The brief "Like New" follows and is probably the most forgettable of the bunch though not bad by any means. And finally, "Wash Off" rounds out the 15-minute EP with the same driving psyche-out explosion that made Cryptograms so invigorating. All four songs are worth your time, and it's an essential augmentation if you are like me and already sitting in the front row of the Deerhunter bandwagon. It will be very exciting to hear the material they record next though in the wake of their warranted popularity.

New Music: Ral Partha Vogelbacher, Brother Ali

Ral Partha Vogelbacher - Birthday in Beijing (Monotreme 2007)

Ral Partha Vogelbacher - Shrill Falcons / Monotreme

If you were colorblind, you might mistaken Ral Partha Vogelbacher's new album Shrill Falcons for Iceland. But that green is the flag flown by a band all their own. The San Francisco natives have produced their third album since 1999 (debut The More Nice Fey Elven Gnomes... is probably of the last decade's greatest album titles), and here they've refined their sound just a whisker to produce a coherent full-length that sounds as hazy and as remote at times as Rekjavik in fog. That was bad. Sorry.

The bold cover is what drew me in first, I'll admit it. But it's not all barebones artwork that this album has to ride on it; in fact, Ral Partha Vogelbacher actually share kin with Audiversity favorites Thee More Shallows and, wait for it, Scandinavian Preppy (though Iceland really shouldn't be considered Scandinavian, and if anyone is still doing that, stop). You've already heard Michael gush over the former and maybe someday when we're older we'll have a little chat about the latter (which was the original title for this album, coincidentally). Whether or not this album is "all the better for it" as lazier critics are wont to say is debatable, but I know this: The drones of Fog or the Sebadohian tactics of main man Chad Bidwell are both soothing and engrossing to listen to on repeat.

Oh right, the name. "Dungeons & Dragons" figurine manufacturer + Bidwell's eighth-grade nemesis, one Pierre Vogelbacher = Ral Partha Vogelbacher. One hell of a moniker, isn't it? Just don't mistaken them for a Bollywood pop idol. No, the three men of Ral Partha are firmly rooted in the lo-fi traditions of greats gone by. The good part is that there's a twist of the modern weaving its way in and out of the speakers: Odd Nosdam drops in to add some drones to the album's centerpiece, "New Happy Fawn," and he's not the only one. The band themselves have taken a more ambient, drone-laden look into the mirror and found an acid-folk band that's willing to eschew their previously simpler lo-fi fun in the best way possible. Bidwell wrote most of this album in China and that is evident in some places ("Birthday in Beijing" being the big one, obviously). But instead of crisp Icelandic fog, I imagine more the air of a smoggy Chongqing, where women fight the government until the media is told to stop. Bidwell himself found it more akin to the swamp racket of Florida, and like Wilderness Pangs, it is easy to hear the alligators swimming amongst the feedback of a track like "Party After the Wake."

But the underlying message is that it's an album for all corners of the globe because it comes from all corners of the globe. Bidwell is an Orlando native, but the band is from San Fran; he wrote the songs in China, but the art speaks to a colorblind Icelander. In a way only Dustin Long himself could have stitched together better, Shrill Falcons calls out with the sound every remote corner of the globe knows all too well. You can suck the smog and the fog away from these places, but that eliminates a kind of beauty that Ral Partha Vogelbacher speak to here. This is a beautiful album, polluted and hazy and imperfect. As it should be.













Brother Ali - Freedom Ain't Free (Rhymesayers 2007)

Brother Ali - The Undisputed Truth / Rhymesayers

Beautiful and polluted and hazy and imperfect, that's no way to describe Brother Ali. This guy is all about Midwestern grit and perseverance, exemplified in his already-legendary 2000 Rites of Passage cassette-only EP. The Undisputed Truth is another example of how Ali Newman lets his flow conquer the songs rather than the other way around. The lyrics are as dense and dark and deep and delicate as they've ever been.

Getting divorced from your wife of a decade would help anyone struggling for material to write on. Battling for custody of your only kid can't hurt either. Have you already read about how he was homeless there for awhile too? I won't even bother touching upon the fact that he's albino. These are all adversities the merely mortal melody makers among us would find difficult to overcome or recover from, whichever you prefer. Not Ali, though. The man has been dealing with adversity his whole life, from being a kid to being Eyedea's battle foe at the 2000 Cincinnati Scribble Jam. This is starting to read like a biography and you can fetch most of this information from a number of places, but if you weren't before, I think the idea is a little clearer now: Brother Ali has battled the best and the most burdensome. On The Undisputed Truth, he has beaten them all. Again.

"Whatcha Got" is the opener, and on a 15-track album that lasts over an hour, this is just the first sample of greatness to come. The beats have been put together exclusively by the funk-loving ANT of Atmosphere. It never ceases to amaze me how prolific the lads in the Rhymesayers collective seem to be, and how consistently strong their output is. The heavy lyrics Ali raps on, typical of his style, just seem to juxtapose the laid-back feel of ANT's grooves and this balance, this yin and yang, this is the magic of Brother Ali's albums. Here's a really good example: "Freedom Ain't Free" starts off with an island feel, but as soon as Ali breaks in, it's off to the races. Perhaps the reason Ali is so successful is because his topics are often heavy. Sounds simplistic after just writing that (Personal tumult mixed with political views, what two subjects have been covered more in music?), but give it a listen. On this track in particular he takes a bit of a breather; others are less sparse lyrically, but the way he knows when to lay the lyrical prowess on thick and when to just plain lay off is another positive point for Newman.

The Rhymesayers bunch know what they're doing and, though the morass of politics and personal problems can sometimes be as tough to tackle as a frigid snowfall or a Floridian copperhead, they've come out ahead once again. If you haven't bothered with Brother Ali before because you thought Atmosphere was enough Twin Cities hip-hop for one hard drive, brother you better try again: The Undisputed Truth is the real deal.

Radio Show Playlist 3/28

6a:
1. The Clash - Lost in the Supermarket - London Calling (Epic 1979)
2. The Eternals - The Mix is So Bizarre - Heavy International (Aesthetics 2007)
3. Kill Me Tomorrow - Liason - Chrome Yellow (Silver Girl 2001)
4. Panda Bear - Bros - Person Pitch (Paw Tracks 2007)
5. Cornelius - Bird Watching at Inner Forest - Point (Matador 2002)
6. 90 Day Men - We Blame Chicago - To Everybody (Southern 2001)
7. Nurse & Soldier - Green Tea - Marginalia (Brah 2007)
8. Manu Dibango - Miango Ma Tumba - B-Sides (Soul Mokossa 2002, recorded 1983)
9. Tinariwen - Cler Achel - Aman Iman (World Village 2007)
10. Ammoncontact - Love Letters - One in an Infinity of Ways (Plug Researh 2004)
11. Plaid - Diddymousedid - P-Brane EP (WARP 2002)

7a:
1. Luna - Slash Your Tires - Lunapark (Elektra 1992)
2. Olivia Tremor Control - Fireplace - Presents: Singles & Beyond (Emperor Norton 2000, recorded 1992-93)
3. Antelope - Reflector - Reflector (Dischord 2007)
4. Giant Skyflower Band - Bitter Wild Rabbits/Builds the Bone - Blood of the Sunworm (Soft Abuse 2007)
5. Glenn Jones - Heartbreak Hill - Against Which the Sea Continually Breaks (Strange Attractors 2007)
6. The Twilight Sad - Talking with Fireworks/Here, It Never Snowed - Fourteen Autumns & Fifteen Winters (FatCat 2007)
7. Thee More Shallows - The Dutch Fist - Book of Bad Breaks (Anticon 2007)
8. The Grey Skies are Sleeping - What It Feels Like to Be at the End of the World - Single (Kill Art 2000)
9. The Zincs - Hamstrung and Juvenile - Black Pompadour (Thrill Jockey 2007)
10. Silver Jews - Friday Night Fever - Bright Flight (Drag City 2001)
11. The Sea and Cake - Sporting Life - The Fawn (Thrill Jockey 1997)

New Music: Thee More Shallows, Glenn Jones, J Dilla

Thee More Shallows - The Dutch Fist (Anticon 2007)

Thee More Shallows – Book of Bad Breaks / Anticon

I rambled at length about Anticon's recent stylistic mutation from an underground hip-hop label to purveyors of post- most everything in my review of SJ Esau's Wrong Faced Cat Feed Collapse, so I won't retread too much here. If you needed any further proof though, here it is in all its post-pop, post-rock, post-shoegaze, post-folk wonder. It's recent signees Thee More Shallows and their new album Book of Bad Breaks, which I am happy to report finds the already impressive rock band pushing the boundaries established with their acclaimed 2005 album More Deep Cuts and the more recent Monkey vs. Shark EP (one of the few EPs to make the Audiversity Top 60 of 06). The most striking aspect of More Deep Cuts and the main element that separates the young Bay Area trio from the rest of the pack was the blatant perfectionism. As you know if you read just about any review of that album (mostly because it was splattered all over the accompanying press releases), frontman Dee Kesler spent nearly three years mixing the album to perfection and while that may seem a little overkill, the results absolutely spoke for themselves. For their Anticon debut though, Thee More Shallows have decided to approach recording with a new motto: "minimize to maximize."

Not looking to recreate the obsessed over, brooding and epic post-rock of More Deep Cuts, Kesler, Chavo Fraser and Jason Gonzales went into the studio with a "first thought/best thought" mantra that fits snuggly into Anticon's already established "anything goes" ethos. Their songwriting set-up only included a $50 Casio keyboard, acoustic guitar and drums to further instill their new minimalist approach and the resulting songs certainly reflect this off-the-cuff composing. Instead of the precisely arranged and acutely played material we have come to expect from the band, we get a fractured, raucous and unpredictable collection of songs in Book of Bad Breaks that makes the music just that much more invigorating. Don't get me wrong though, this isn't lo-fi bedroom pop by any means; after laying the minimalist groundwork, the band interweaved complicated layers of strings, synths and feedback with their impressive studio prowess along with inviting label-mate Odd Nosdam to provide drum breaks and some of his signature drone. The final result is a shifty, patchwork album of rich chamber rock and icy post-shoegaze with flares of quirky pop, crunchy noise and atmospheric krautrock that reveals new layers with every spin.

With all but one track clocking in at less than four minutes, Thee More Shallows opted for packing in their ideas in a concise manner. Elements of fellow Anticonians slip in as well, like the odd Why?-like arrangement of “The Dutch Fist” which opens with a subdued, fuzz-out keyboard melody, Kesler’s eerie vocal croon and an oddly-tuned acoustic guitar before blooming into a multi-layered synth-pop anthem. The wall-of-synth approach is utilized often, especially augmenting the already heavily fuzzed low end. It’s mostly heard in the first half of the album, like how it counteracts the whistle-and-coo yearn of “Eagle Rock” and heavily accentuates the already galloping “Night at the Knight School” into another anthemic number. Later on, Kesler and company begin to experiment with different stylistic approaches. “Proud Turkey” utilizes a stop-and-start punk method before crumbling into an elegant string ensemble, and the indie-rockish “Oh Yes, Another Mother” grooves on a serious krautrock beat. Odd Nosdam’s contributions, while probably strung throughout, are most apparent during the final few tunes; the longest track of the album, “The White Mask,” drones along on an off-kilter chord progression played through dark, wavering synths and “Chrome Caps” is mostly just an exercise in cleverly controlling and manipulating feedback.

Book of Bad Breaks is no More Deep Cuts, so don’t expect it to be. It’s the product of a band expanding the boundaries, trying new ideas and utilizing the infinite creative space a freewheeling label like Anticon insists upon. The frayed edges of Bad Breaks will certainly surprise those used to the refined curves of Deep Cuts, but I sincerely don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Hopefully Thee More Shallows will continue on with their studio experimentations because it sounds like this is just the tip of their creativity iceberg. And in the meantime, Anticon adds another excellent entry into their already impressive discography; I can hardly wait for the next unpredictable path they venture down.






Glenn Jones - David & the Phoenix (Strange Attractors 2007)

Glenn Jones – Against Which the Sea Continually Beats / Strange Attractors

I spent all Sunday morning listening to the even-toned, elegant guitar playing of Gabor Szabo and his penchant for lyrically snaking through recognizable themes. Well I spent all Sunday evening listening to Glenn Jones and his similarly inspired guitar work, especially sharing the Indian raga influence. But while Szabo would express himself by patiently plucking linearly, Jones opts for flurries of fluttering overtones in a very layered, swirling manner coming off much more American folk than Hungarian folk. Concretely in the school of Takoma and American Primitivism, Jones is a descendent of John Fahey’s ambitious approach to the guitar; his actual playing style leans toward traditional country blues fingerpicking but the extravagant compositions reach into the world of avant-garde and neoclassicism. With Steffen Basho-Junghans, Jones is among the contemporary musicians continuing the tradition of Fahey, Leo Kottke, Robbie Basho and Peter Lang. A tradition started by the American blues men, country string bands and backwoods folk artists in the 20s and 30s, continued through Takoma and similar artists like Sandy Bull, embellished with paralleled practices in Europe and India, mainly Django Reinhardt and Ravi Shankar respectively, and brought back full circle with the cultured class of masterful guitar players today. Against Which the Sea Continually Beats pays homage to all these past guitar aficionados while paving out an individual path for Jones so he one day will be rightfully grouped with his idols (though he pretty much is already).

Glenn Jones is a cultured, multi-talented musician in his own right. Most notably, he has led the experimental instrumental rock band Cul de Sac for more than fifteen years and eight full-length records. On the solo side of Jones’ career, he has soundtracked a couple of films, and collaborated with his mentor Fahey on 1997’s The Epiphany of Glenn Jones on Thirsty Ear and former Can vocalist Damo Suzuki for 2004’s Abhayamudra on Strange Attractors. With Cul de Sac apparently on a brief hiatus, Jones has been touring and writing incessantly all the while fulfilling the claim of him being one of the key players in the new guitar soli movement. His latest full-length further establishes the guitar aficionado as nearly being in a world of his own as far as technical prowess and emotional resonance goes.

Recorded in four days within the island community of West Tinsbury, Martha’s Vineyard, MA, this geographical setting is an obvious influence on Against Which the Sea Continually Beats (yes, I do enjoy pointing out the blatantly obvious). Like the ocean, Jones’s guitar playing ebbs and flows with tranquility and grace. His 12-string flurries elegantly wash over each other like calm oncoming waves and all of his environmental and musical influences are crisply and clearly reflected when studying the music from above. The two center pieces of the album, “Freedom Raga” and “The Teething Necklace (for John Fahey)” are the best examples of this as he patiently transcends straight mimicking his influences by reflecting them through his own personal style. Both songs reach well over the ten minute mark, the former being an easily relatable raga-inspired anthem and the latter, a tranquil, effervescing homage to his mentor (it’s also a tune he has been patiently perfecting since Fahey’s passing in 2001). While shorter explorations into minimal blues and folk tie the album together, I find myself repeatedly hypnotized by songs like “David & the Phoenix,” which features a colorful blend of cascading overtones, or, on the other side of the spectrum, the delicate crawl of “Heartbreak Hill.” Against Which the Sea Continually Breaks is a wonderful and mesmerizing album of masterful guitar work from one of contemporary music’s finest. It’s a graceful, nuanced, tranquil affair that is perfect for any time you need a break from the cacophony of every day life.






J Dilla - Reckless Driving (Stones Throw 2007, originally Mummy 2003)

J Dilla – Ruff Draft / Stones Throw

I wrote this blurb on Sunday and was going to expand upon it for today's post, but Pitchfork just put up their review of the album today and I see no need to compete. Nate Patrin's lengthy write-up pretty much nails it and there is no need to retread, so I respectfully point you his way: Pitchfork's Review

My blurb:
We're still recovering from the passing of James Yancey a little over a year ago. One of rap's most innovative producers, Jay Dee's prolific nature continues to reveal layers as we scrounge through is back catalogue, digging up gems we should have been acclaiming prior to his death. Ruff Draft is the third post-mortem release, but it was actually recorded and released in 2003 on Dilla's own Mummy imprint. Left label-less in early 2003 soon after Common's Electric Circus due to Geffen's acquiring MCA, Dilla decided to concentrate on his solo career after a decade of supplying beats and production for other artists. After years of soundtracking the backpacking movement, Yancey wanted to revert back to the raunchy and raw sounds of out-of-the-trunk, sample-heavy rap and bring it back to the cassette. He excels endlessly as you get a sneak peak at the transformation from Dee to Dilla, Electric Circus to Champion Sound, promising producer to prolific artist. An extremely rare 12" up until this release, Stones Throw continues to show infinite, warranted love for Yancey and the amazing music he made.

Used-Bin Bargains: Gabor Szabo

Gabor Szabo - Gypsy Queen (Impulse! 1966)

Gabor Szabo – Spellbinder / Impulse!

Gabor Szabo resides in an odd niche of jazz musicians. The innovative Hungarian guitarist came to prominence in the 60s with his truly idiosyncratic style incorporating jazz, pop, rock and classical with Latin, Gypsy, Indian and Asian influences, but while most of his contemporary jazz musicians were heading towards the spiritual, energetic and earthy side of the genre closely following the masterful teachings of John Coltrane, he reverted to a very sophisticated, clean-cut manner of playing. Szabo also would frequently look to reinvent pop standards rather than push his music into the uncharted, atonal areas of the late 60s jazz explorations, so he often looked to the emerging rock scene for inspiration with the likes of Carlos Santana, George Harrison and Eric Clapton acting as substantial influences. Maybe because he was always looking towards the commercial side of jazz, Szabo is not typically mentioned with the great individual musicians during that unparalleled era of musical innovativeness, but his enchanting, sophisticated, mellifluous and literate style of guitar playing still has a resounding emotional impact some 25 years after his passing. Albums like 1966’s Spellbinder still act as invigorating peeks into a brand of jazz that is as breezy as it is soul plucking. It’s exotic music without a particular geographic or temporal locale making Szabo that much more mysterious and hypnotizing.

Born in Budapest, Hungary in 1936, Gábor István Szabó’s came from humble beginnings. Inspired by a guitar-wielding Roy Rogers in one of his many cowboy movies of the late 40s, a teenage Szabo received one lesson on his poorly made acoustic and proceeded to develop a style so individual, it’s foundation was in his own improvised fingering system. His musical education came mostly from the local Hungarian folk and gypsy musicians, but his tastes were significantly widened after hearing Willis Conover’s influential Jazz Hour on the internationally broadcasted Voice of America in the mid-50s. This new interest in America culture no doubt spurred his departure from Hungary to the States on the eve of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution, which briefly opened the borders with Hungary’s temporary withdrawal from the Warsaw Pact. The twenty-year-old Szabo eventually lead his family and girlfriend to San Bernadino, California with only his guitar strapped to his back and his eyes fixed on musical stardom.

Like all young musicians, Szabo had to fail a number of times before blooming into the musician he is known as today. The first group he formed in Los Angeles, the Three Strings, failed to make any sort of impact and Szabo was forced to work as a janitor while setting his sights on attending the Berklee School of Music in Boston to receive a formal education. By 1958 he did just that and attended the influential school for four terms where he developed his composition skills as well as the metallic but mellifluous guitar style that would become his signature sound. While in Boston, Szabo participated in the much-acclaimed 1958 Newport Jazz Festival where he befriended Chico Hamilton, a L.A. drummer best known for his talent scouting skills. Hamilton, who had been playing with Charles Mingues, Dexter Gordon and Illinois Jacquet, was currently sporting innovative reedman Eric Dolphy in his group and looking to replace guitarist John Pisano. The pairing of Szabo and Hamilton proved to be a substantial team, and from 1960 to 1965 Szabo rose through the ranks and eventually became the prominent soloist, primary composer and star of the quintet. Hamilton continuously encouraged the blooming guitarist to stem out on his own, and while Szabo continued to record with the drummer’s group, he began to collaborate with fellow Berklee student Gary McFarland, a renowned orchestral jazz arranger who shared Szabo’s increasing interest in more harmonious music than the budding spiritual jazz scene. After two albums under McFarland’s name, Soft Samba and The In Sound on Verve, the duo recorded Szabo’s solo debut, Gypsy ’66 on Impulse!, which established his penchant for successfully branding pop tunes, this time The Beatles’ “Yesterday” and “If I Fell” and Burt Bacharach’s “Walk on By” and “The Last One to Be Loved,” with his own style. It garnished enough attention to inspire a follow-up just six months later, the excellent Spellbinder.

I think Spellbinder, released in May of 1966 on Impulse!, is such an invigorating and defining album for Szabo because it captures his guitar style matured but not yet completely developed. At somewhat of a crossroads, he has a good grasp of jazz, pop and Hungarian folk music and was just beginning to experiment with flourishes of Indian raga, Latin percussion and improvisation. Spellbinder features Szabo’s youthful, exploratory spirit with masterful musicianship, an absolute potent combination in any setting. Szabo’s lyrical and humble electric guitar is backed by the non-evasive drumming of Chico Hamilton, the elegant bass playing of Ron Carter and embellished by by the swinging Latin percussion of Willie Bobo and Victor Pantoja. They seemed to touch upon just the right combination of pop standards, originals and improvs that fans of both jazz and pop music came to embrace the album. Szabo’s guitar is certainly the center of attention, but not in a showy kind of way. His springy, even-toned electric tiptoes and two-steps over the intricate grooves laid down by the incredibly talented rhythm section creating a breezy and exotic psychedelia vibe. It’s both technically impressive and melodically pleasant, which makes his re-imaginings of standard pop tunes like the Coleman/Leigh-penned “Witchcraft” and “It Was a Very Good Year” (popularized by Sinatra) or Sonny Bono’s “Band Bang (She Shot Me Down)” so infectious and individualistic. Szabo takes the recognizable melodies, strings out the themes and then proceeds to snake through them effortlessly all the while caringly garnishing with somber, droning strings, flurries of improvised arpeggios and almost bossa nova-like rhythms. Originals like “Spellbinder,” “Cheetah,” and most importantly “Gypsy Queen” showcase Szabo’s increasingly proficient and innovative composition skills. Admirer and friend Carlos Santana included a brief rendition of “Gypsy Queen” in his widely famous cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “Black Magic Woman” in 1970, which would keep royalties rolling in for many years to come. In fact, Santana reportedly cites that hearing Spellbinder forced a turning point in his career inspiring him to stem out from the blues he was purveying to concentrate on crossover possibilities incorporating in jazz, Latin and rock music. To many, Spellbinder marks the peak of Szabo’s career though it was only his second album, mostly because he would never quite parallel this particular combination of youthful exploration and popular accessibility (his later albums sometimes weighed to heavily on the latter).

The rest of the 60s saw Szabo explore a few different musical paths, most notably being influenced by Ravi Shankar and picking up the sitar in 1966. Featuring a budding Bernard Purdie on drums, Jazz Raga found Szabo overdubbing sitar over his own guitar playing equally infusing his jazz chops with Shankar’s Indian style and heavy inspiration from rock guitarists like George Harrison and Eric Clapton. In 1967, he once again hit a chord with the jazz audiences thanks to his recommended live recordings The Sorcerer and More Sorcery. This was probably the peak of his popularity as at the time he was living in Hollywood, neighbor to Elizabeth Taylor and Katherine Hepburn, and starting Sky Recording Co. with McFarland and vibraphonist Cal Tjader, which put out one of my personal favorite album of his pop/rock covers, Gabor Szabo 1969. Though the Skye label only lasted a couple years, it did result in teaming with Lena Horne for yet another boost in popularity with Lena & Gabor. In the 70s, Szabo went in an increasingly pop and rock-influenced jazz direction that while producing a couple well received albums like 1970’s High Contrast with Bobby Womack and 1972’s Mizrab, further separated him from the jazz crowd. He returned to Hungary in the latter half of the 70s to reunite with family and even joined the Church of Scientology upon his return to the States in an attempt to kick the lingering heroin habit he developed in the mid-60s. Though it did result in a productive friendship with Chick Corea, his association with the church turned sour even escalating to a failed $21 million lawsuit. In the early 80s, a frustrated and sickly Szabo returned to his home in Hungary where he spent his final years before succumbing to liver and kidney ailments in 1982. While not the most acclaimed jazz guitarist, Gabor Szabo was certainly influential with his meshing of styles and he left behind an incredibly enjoyable discography of masterful guitar playing and pleasant pop grooves.

Singleversity #3

Audiversity’s weekly column on random music in exactly 144 words.

(Ed. - Originally this was called Threeversity, but in the spirit of simplicity we've decided to retroactively relabel all of these posts. The content remains unchanged.)

MA:
(#144 of a random playlist generated from my ever-changing database of 12,500+ songs)



Dr. Dre - Lyrical Gangbang - The Chronic (Death Row 1992)

"This should be played at high volume / Preferably in a residential area"
Spoken like a public service announcement, my very white friends and I did just that… for years and years. And goddamn did we think we were cool. Sure it was ’98 and the album was six years old, but we had just gotten our drivers licenses. Sure it was ’06 and the album was fifteen years old, but we had just picked up the reissue… again.
Nothing compares to:
"See ya watch and creak without a motherfuckin paddle" from Lady Rage, or
"Chewin’ motherfuckers up like a Hershey Kiss" from Kurupt, or
"Fuck it, niggas goin’ wild, every night they shoot / It's like Beirut" from RBX (and you thought Beirut was a gallivanting town of gypsy tunes and indie-pop crooners).
"Some cool shit, some cool shit." Indeed Dre. Indeed.

PM:











Last week it was the English, this week it’s women: Louis Jordan sends some words of wisdom to the single men of the world on “Beware, Brother, Beware” in this jazzy tune from 1946 during Jordan’s height on the Decca label. Alongside Decca alumni Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby and Ella Fitzgerald (in addition to his famous backing band the Tympany Five), Jordan was a landmark musician for black artists in the 1930s and 1940s. His sense of humor is famous and his movie credentials are plentiful… But it’s his music that gets the most attention and his nonstop energy makes him a one-stop party playlist. There’s a wilder, faster version out there that got a live retouching (and a shorter title in “Beware”) by Quincy Jones in 1956, but this original rendition shows the original is already alive with tongue-in-cheek sass and energetic jive.

JR:



(Disclaimer: Jordan is in character with his entry; he is in absolutely no danger of "combusting in front of masses of dead-eyed consumers," so please do not fret for his mental health. --Ed.)

To those unfamiliar with Prurient, you are lucky. Naive, but lucky all the same. Fortune has deftly guided you away from the shadows. Hands out of the darkness grasping at thin air, don't let them get ahold of you; they will rip and tear away parts of your self, constaints of your own being, that you didn't even know existed until they were lost. I work too much. And its all at the expense of my youth. Certain days I'm bursting at the seams, like at any point I may just combust in front of masses of dead-eyed consumers. To hear Prurient is to understand life's violent nature, its thoughtless abuses; watch Dominik Fernow as he fights invisible demons, drawing them forward and obliterating them all in a violent show of force. I know those sounds too well, and I'd rather forget them.

New Music: Harlan, Junior Boys

Man, today really took it out of me. I'm preaching to the choir as you probably didn't have it any easier, but sometimes you come home and there's just nothing left that you want to hear. It's tough being in the convergence business. Pfft, journalism. So streamlined, so slick, so modern... It's about the opposite of what's going on in my apartment right now, actually.













Harlan - The Ballad of Selective Memory (Odd Thud 2007)

Harlan - The Still Beat / Odd Thud

See, my roommate ordered a banjo I don't know how many weeks ago, and tonight it finally came in. To put this in perspective, young Tommy - he prefers T-Bird - doesn't play an instrument and has only been in a band once: He "sang" a musical rendition of "The NeverEnding Story" after ten shots of vodka. In the best traditions of "I was there" elitism, I played gong in a flame-retardant suit. Lucky for us that Google Video got a hold of the performance (We won the popular vote that night in a Battle of the Bands).

In any case, it's a little clearer now what we're working with. He's in the living room strumming it like a fool and there's really nothing the rest of us can do. After ten minutes of this, I developed a headache like any other reasonable human being. To save myself, I turned to some real guitar-playing by a bloke named John Harlan Norris. To save you, I won't bother with any "roundhouse-kick-to-the-face" one-liners, but it should be noted that Mr. Norris doesn't need any trivial pop culture references to get his point across on an album he did entirely alone: The Still Beat was constructed on the strength of synth melodies and guitar solos with a dash of folk and British trad-pop chops, but it was the dash of bayou flavor that Norris used with his Baton Rouge background. Actually, that's not entirely true: Norris was working in Spanish Harlem when he decided to just up and move to Kentucky to record in a mountain cabin. And then when he finished selling off a collection of handmade EPs, he moved to Louisiana to fetch an MFA in painting. A true renaissance man, written and performed by one man: Norris doesn't bother with that arrangement anymore, now using a full backing-band to get his message translated live. But it hardly matters: The Still Beat works on record just as well as Norris and friends live.

If you're wondering where the Odd Thud link is, Harlan's got the answer: The Still Beat is the first and only release so far. A label to keep an eye on.












Junior Boys - Double Shadow (Kode9 remix) (Domino 2007)

Junior Boys - The Dead Horse EP / Domino

Backing band, that's probably a phrase that doesn't immediately come to mind in the context of Kode9. Junior Boys aren't really about that either, are they? These two artists, I feel, don't really need long-winded introductions or the enticing story of my roommate's struggle to play even one chord correctly: You know Canadian duo Junior Boys through their past with 2004's oft-overlooked Last Exit and, of course, 2006's spectacular So This is Goodbye. Kode9, meanwhile, was featured here a few short months ago for his supreme album Memories of the Future that featured his MC The Spaceape. The Glasgow-born head of the Hyperdub label gave dubstep a much-needed shot in the arm and he's been riding high ever since.

Two mighty beings of electronic collaborating here for "Double Shadow" are not the end of the story, though. The best part about The Dead Horse (which I find funny because it doesn't really seem like Junior Boys made a huge to-do out of their sophomore release; in a time of big albums, they slipped in, made their mark and retired their hype to the road) is that it doesn't beat anything into the ground. One of the best parts of So This is Goodbye was all the songs that didn't make the album: The five remixes presented here merely carry on in the tradition of the In the Morning EP that had a couple of enjoyable reworkings from Alex Smoke and Morgan Geist. Hot Chip return from their Boojing around to remix said track to start off the handful, and with excellent source material it's hard to screw it up. Carl Craig is the other "big" name on here, but don't discount Marsen Jules or that Ten Snake remix of "FM." Actually, why would you? If you like Junior Boys at all, you'll likely go straight out and get this when it hits stores as a CD April 10th and vinyl May 8th.

So this is an apology: We'll be on top of our game next week when I'll have a little more time to focus, but today was just bad. You'd think Fridays would be easy, but no luck: Even after getting out of my requirements early, coming back was just as much of a burden thanks to dirty dishes and detuned folk music. Thank goodness Harlan and Junior Boys were there to save me - it might've been ugly otherwise.

New Music: The Twilight Sad, Love Trio ft. U-Roy, The Zincs

The Twilight Sad - Talking with Fireworks/Here, It Never Snowed (FatCat 2007)

The Twilight Sad – Fourteen Autumns & Fifteen Winters / FatCat

The Twilight Sad makes sad music, which is really not a secret since they put it right there in the name, but Fourteen Autumns & Fifteen Winters is a really, really sad record. And not simple, fiddle-a-little-with-your-guitar-and-chirp-wearily sad. And not emo's misogynistic over-the-top-me-me-me-I'm-the-center-of-the-world-and-people- should-pay-attention-to-me sad. This is 80s sad. This is pre-internet, listen all day to The Smiths and The Cure while the shotty tube spits out increasingly melodramatic news about the Cold War and Reaganomics sad. My Bloody Valentine sad. Arab Strap sad. Sadness so resonant that it can only be expressed in a shattering display of thunderous drumming, cascading feedback and guitar riffs that go on for miles. Sad enough that you need a sighing accordion to get across your point. So yeah, it is a sad record, but a sadness that you will be merrily addicted to for a good while.

The Scottish quartet caught a lot of attention with their eponymous debut EP on FatCat including the ears of we Audiversitarians who were eagerly awaiting this full-length. And thankfully, The Twilight Sad definitely came through with their side of the deal by easily leaping the high bar they set with the EP and even expounded upon three of the five previously released songs and including them on this LP (I guess you could call that cheating, but because of the quality of the songs, their presence is definitely warranted). Not that the songwriting and musicianship does not stand on its own, but I do think that the pristine production is much to thanks for the resounding nature of the album. Producer Peter Katis (Interpol, Spoon, Mice Parade) has a definite understanding of the ins and outs of shoegaze. He does a wonderful job of highlighting singer James Graham’s heavy and somber Scottish accent without losing the soaring wall-of-sound regularly explored by the rest of the group. And the autumnal, reflective tone made by a combination of glimmering guitars and aching accordion sighs perfectly matches Graham’s plaintive drawl and lyrics. I want to call it post-shoegaze but it just encapsulates so much of the genre, I don’t know how you could say it actually moves past it. Sure it’s 15-years too late, but their sound is the exact reason you were so hypnotized by the genre in the first place. The Twilight Sad very well could be this generation’s My Bloody Valentine.

Other than the typical shoegaze comparisons, I think they very much parallel Interpol’s vibe on Turn on the Bright Lights minus the rampant post-punk rhythms. I seriously doubt that Katis being producer on both of the albums is coincidental and he just has a very good handle on how to create the classic 80s UK atmosphere as if the records were being made on the same analog tape utilized by Echo & the Bunnymen, Joy Division and The Smiths. Both records ride a very dark, insular and self-conscious vibe but are simultaneously brooding, intense and anthemic. They pluck your heart strings in the most epic manner possible. Will The Twilight Sad have same impact Interpol had in 2002 though? It’s hard to say. There is a good amount of hype bubbling in the blogosphere for The Sad, but not nearly as there was approaching Bright Lights, so unless the Glasgow four grab an opening slot for the Arcade Fire anytime soon, I doubt it will reach those proportions. It is a shame though, because they definitely have the talent and Fourteen Autumns & Fifteen Winters is a hell of an album. But just be prepared because it is a sad album no matter how epic, and you should probably go ahead and clean the top of your sneakers because you’ll be gazing long and hard at them after spinning it a time or two.






Love Trio - Rock the Rhythm (Nublu 2007)

Love Trio – Love Trio in Dub featuring U-Roy / Nublu

Nublu is one of those labels that I really do want to like because of their ethos and spirit, but I have always had trouble getting into most the music they release. The New York club and record label highlights contemporary musicians from around the world that typically infuse Latin, Brazilian and dance music, Brazilian Girls and Forro in the Dark for example, but their records just always come off over-produced to me. With the raw sounds of yesterday now being readily available from countries like Brazil and the rest of South America, I would much rather just go straight to the source (plus they always have this neo-soul undertone in their music that further turns my nose). The latest from the Love Trio, on the other hand, grabbed my attention from the get go and held onto it through the entire album… and the next spin… and the next spin. Maybe it is just the inclusion of U-Roy's classic toasting, but for me, Love Trio in Dub finally balances the classic-spirit-recreated-with-contemporary-recording-techniques mixture that Nublu set out to conquer in the first place.

The Love Trio is made up of Ilhan Ersahin of Wax Poetic on tenor sax and keys, the Brazilian Girls' Jesse Murphy on bass and Kenny Wollesen, a session player for Tom Waits and John Zorn, behind the kit. Their brand of dub is not groundbreaking by any means, but they definitely do a masterful job of sequencing synthetic instrumentation that would be otherwise cheesy into infectious grooves. It is very much on the same tip as Lee "Scratch" Perry's recent Panic in Babylon, true to the genre but using a lot of synthesizers without sounding bland. But obviously, the dealmaker is the inclusion of legendary reggae artist U-Roy taking over vocals. Now in his late 60s, Ewart Beckford is one of the originators in the balancing of reggae, dub and DJing… shit, his nickname is the Originator. One of the most idiosyncratic artists of Jamaica, U-Roy came to fame after nearly 10 years of DJing varying sound systems during the 60s, including Doctor Dickie's Dynamite, Sir George's the Atomic and King Tubby's Hi-Fi. I could go on for pages with all the different artists and producers Beckford played with during the 70s, but all you really need to know is that he is one of the most acclaimed DJs to ever come out of Jamaica and was an integral piece in the development of toasting. He was an incredibly productive artist until the mid-80s releasing an unfathomable amount of singles and dub plates, and remained active throughout the 90s, but to a much lesser degree. Quiet for the last half a decade, Love Trio in Dub has him returning with vengeance and releasing some of his most infectious material in nearly twenty years.

Honestly, if all they released was “Rock the Rhythm,” the first song on the album, I would have been perfectly content. A simple synthetic riddim is augmented with echoing key and guitar splotches along with melancholic brushes of horn and backing vocal while U-Roy’s elderly Jamaican drawl toasts effortlessly over it all. Though maybe using the same tools as dancehall, the completely relaxed riddim creates the polar opposite emotion; it is much more akin to the stoned leisure of rocksteady. “Hard Livin’” is on the same wavelength and actually somehow creates an effective poignant emotion out of midi strings, which is impressive in its own right. Other tracks like “Shug Shimme and Shake” and the classic U-Roy track “Version Galore” are equally infectious, somehow capturing the classic rocksteady vibe in the age of Protools. Though I hate to keep referring back to how surprised I am that this is so good, I just never expected that music this heavily synthesized could recreate such an organic genre as reggae with so much effectiveness. Whether or not you share my weary premonitions of the Nublu sound or not, Love Trio in Dub is a fun and addicting album and it’s always good to hear a classic voice like U-Roy still toasting us under the table more than 40 years after he began his career.






The Zincs - Hamstrung and Juvenile (Thrill Jockey 2007)

The Zincs – Black Pompadour / Thrill Jockey

The most wonderful aspect of genre-less labels like Thrill Jockey is that once you come to trust the steady high quality of their output, they repeatedly put you into situations that you would not normally find yourself in. Even if we just take a small portion of their recent releases, I have been joyfully thrust into writing about the raucous electronic cacophony of Lithops, the earthy spiritual jazz of Frequency, the honey-soaked, country-tinged songwriting of Angela Desveaux and Extra Golden's continental bridge between DC's boogie blues and Kenya's benga style music. Not that I wouldn't explore such genres if left on my own, but Thrill Jockey acts as an excellent catalyst, letting me lean on their trustworthing high quality and boundary-less ideals. Their most recent release, The Zinc's Black Pompadour, once again puts me into this situation of blindly exploring a genre I don't normally soak in for too long, this time classic British indie-rock.

The brainchild of Chicago-based Englishman Jim Elkington, The Zincs progressively electrify their sound with their second full-length on Thrill Jockey. Formerly more-or-less a solo moniker for Elkington's songwriting, they have now expanded to a full-fledged quartet with Nathaniel Braddock on guitar and piano, Nick Macri on bass and saxophone and Jason Toth on drums. The addition of band members has concurrently inflated The Zincs sound from being mostly singer/songwriter with lush, elegant backing to a full rock band with each member contributing his own fingerprint to the overall sound; think less strings more wily electric guitar. The main concentration of the band though is still Elkington's voice and literate lyrics, and if this is your first acquaintance with his rich baritone, it may take you by surprise. A deadpan combination of Scott Walker and the subdued side of David Bowie, my initial reaction was that it was somewhat bland, especially with the opening track "Head East, Kaspar." But the more the album progressed, the more life seeped through his voice and the more it took a stranglehold of my ears. Very much in the vein of classic British folkies like Bert Jansch and to an extent the spoken word of Welsh poet Dylan Thomas from the first half of the 20th century, Elkington, who spent time developing his musical chops in London's indie-noise outfit Elevate and the introspective Sophia, stays true to his heritage. The Zincs' entire foundation is concretely in the heyday of 1980's British indie-rock scene when Rough Trade and Postcard were the rampant tastemakers, but they continually break free of such pigeonholes with vibrant electric outbursts, stylistic leanings into Southwestern rock and surf among others, and John McEntire's idiosyncratic crisp-as-a-windswept-March-morning production.

As I mentioned earlier, it took me a couple songs to really be hypnotized by the band. But about the time the third track, "Hamstrung and Juvenile," began to expand their sound with a sax octet augmenting the low end and Drag City recording artist Edith Frost's lush croon counteracting Elkington's, I was hooked. In fact, the entire mid-section of the album is outstanding. The brief "Rice Scars" tiptoes on a typewriter and handclap beat as Elkington and Frost duet beautifully, "The Mogul's Wives" rides on classic British pop-rock before opening up with multiple electric guitar solos that sound much more Arbouretum than Zincs, and "Burdensome Son" is a hypnotic mix of Southwestern rock and psychedelic surf. The later third of the album is much more subdued and reminiscent of 2005's Dimmer. but no-less captivating. Black Pompadour is an excellent hybrid of British folk and Midwestern rock that excels in it's unassuming nature. Also, if possible, it is best heard with embellishing rain drops clattering on your window pane.

New Music: Broken Fader Cartel, Team Shadetek

subQtaneous - o, he is not so evil (Broken Fader Cartel 2007)

Scanone - Spit (Broken Fader Cartel 2007)

Various Artists - Cloud Control / Broken Fader Cartel

Normally when we think of whatever "IDM" has come to mean in this post-Kid A or post-Give Up world, we think of the frosty north: Eskimos on laptops looking to an endless sun for inspiration, frostbitten Brits thinking their way around the NME, or Berlin ravers who are just "over it" and want something completely different. Even in the US, Jimmy Tamborello is about what "IDM" has come to in recent years, and he was northern California (San Francisco these days, I think).

But electronica in its broken-beat or minimalist forms can come from anywhere. The tropical influence of South America, the underworld of Australia, California, whatever. This intrigue in what electronic can do and in the organic elements that make it so much more approachable than it was in the heady days of Autechre and Aphex Twin has helped it gain former guitar-and-drum loyalists at exponentially increasing rates in the last decade.

One of the great bastions to rock-free-of-electronics and the idealist notion of "guitar rock" is the North Carolina Triangle Region. With a load of schools in a relatively condensed space - Raleigh is only about 40 miles from Durham, likewise to Chapel Hill and Carrboro, and Duke, UNC, NC State, etc. all call it home - there has always been a scene that has produced great bands and, of course, Merge Records stands as the ultimate testament to this. But electronica... That is not something you find a great deal of in the Southeast. Broken Fader Cartel is looking to change that. Their latest effort is their strongest: Cloud Control is a compilation featuring 15 different artists from five different countries that have all convened on this glitch-heavy label to provide a remarkable set of songs whose quality is supreme. Theodore Geisel would be proud, especially in the artwork that pays homage if only subtly.

I first got into them last year when they sent Nauseous Youth Future's Dosage. Not expecting a great deal from Brian Flanders and a record label that was just three albums deep at the time, I was blown away by the fact that it was so competently and convincingly done by a dude from North Carolina rather than just "the north." As it turned out, this was just a microcosm of the label as a whole: Sampled here is the subQtaneous project, six main members the core in a 15-strong collective that has "o, he is not so evil," without the caps, is its featured song here. Scanone is an English DJ based out of East London and from a strictly visual standpoint, virtually none of the artwork in the back catalog looks anything like Cloud Control, but listening to "Spit," you see why this makes sense in the context of the compilation: Throbbing bass and tinny hi-hat persistence pay handsome dividends late in the album.

I've never liked the idea of digging holes to bury artists in (or maybe I like making so many up, pigeonholes are ultimately rendered meaningless anyway) and burying labels is even worse, but if there really is such a thing as "IDM" and there is a "standard" to bear for it, Broken Fader Cartel must surely be flying the flag. All the sweeter, then, that they should mostly be coming from the unassuming college nucleus that is NC's Triangle.













Team Shadetek - Eraser (Soundink 2007)

Team Shadetek - Pale Fire / Soundink

We talk about the shrinking world all the time in the media. From collegiate communications classes to your favorite music mag, the name of the game is a flatter, smaller world. It's passé even to bring up the Internet as a major factor in the musical market so I'll skip the history lesson here and just cut straight to the chase: Team Shadetek is the latest product of global thinking in aural form.

A first, second or fifth listen through without checking on guest contributors would have you believing that the two Manhattan-bred boys Matt Schell and Zach Tucker weren't even from America; their grime and dancehall beats call to mind Kingston or London before New York (though that would be a close-enough third). "Sick Ting" is the best example of that, and with a load of MCs from other parts of the globe (Red Dragon and High Priest among them) to add that dash of flavor to the deep grooves and distant syn stabs. As far as sinister goes, the MCs that drop through to lend their voice aren't afraid to talk about issues that affect your typical conscious writers: Politics, wooing ladies either directly or indirectly, where you're from, and how awesome you are respectively. But it's "Eraser" that stands out musically, a deep, dark backstreet bass line slithering its way through the streets. The whole album resonates with the knowledge Schell and Tucker picked up during their time spent traversing Europe and residing in Berlin. As he said in an interview recently, "I had to get out of New York before I could really be here." In that sense, the rhymes that accompny Team Shadetek's beats have to get out of Jamaica or East London or Manhattan before they really sound like they're from there. Channeling it through the electronic, hip-hop and grime riddims of the world, Team Shadetek are a lot like Broken Fader Cartel: Informed by an information (and ever-more informative) age, they bring those of us on the fringes together under the banner of better taste. I believe.

Radio Show Playlist 3/21

6a:
1. Wire - Single K.O. - 154 (Restless 1979)
2. The Fall - Blindness - Fall Heads Roll (Narnack 2005)
3. The Poison Arrows - Clear Cut - Straight into the Drift EP (File 13 2007)
4. Trans Am - Climbing Up the Ladder (Parts 3 & 4) - Sex Change (Thrill Jockey 2007)
5. Neu! - Hallo Gallo - Neu! (1972, rereleased Astralwerks 1991)
6. Black Future - Eu Sou o Rio - Nao Wave: Brazilian Post-Punk 82-88 (Man 2005)
7. Volcano! - Apple or a Gun - Beautiful Seizure (Leaf 2005)
8. Marnie Stern - Vibrational Match - In Advance of the Broken Arm (Kill Rock Stars 2007)
9. El-P - Ruin the Numbers ft. Aesop Rock - I'll Sleep When You're Dead (Def Jux 2007)
10. Dalek - Bricks Crumble - Abanonded Language (IPECAC 2007)

7a:
1. Johnny Williams - Breaking Point - Eccentric Soul: Twinight's Lunar Rotation (Numero Group 2007, originally Twinight 1967)
2. Marvin Gaye - "T" Plays It Cool - Trouble Man (Motown 1972)
3. Weldon Irvine - Watergate - Time Capsule (Nodlew 1973)
4. Glen Porter - Memoirs - Domestic Blend Vol. 1 (Inner Current 2007)
5. Dead Prez - You'll Find a Way - Let's Get Free (Relativity 2000)
6. Caural - I Won't Race You - Mirrors for Eyes (Mush 2006)
7. Love Trio in Dub ft. U-Roy - Rock the Rhythm - Love Trio in Dub (Nublu 2007)
8. Lee "Scratch" Perry - Are You Coming Home? - Panic in Babylon (Narnack 2006)
9. Noel Ellis - Memories - Jamaica to Toronto: Soul, Funk & Reggae 67-74 (Light in the Attic 2006)
10. Anga - Grandinga Mondongo Sadunga - Echu Mingua (Nonesuch/World Circuit 2006)
11. Bossa 70 - Think - Jeff Recordings: Rough Beats from Trinidad and Peru 72-76 (CDHW 2002)

8a:
1. Stereolab - Prisoner of Mars - Dots & Loops (Elektra 1997)
2. The Brown Party - TBP Loves Stereolab - The Brown Party (self-released 2006)
3. Kieran Hebden & Steve Reid - Our Time - Tongues (Domino 2007)
4. Tinariwen - Imidiwan Winakalin - Aman Iman (World Village 2007)
5. Antelope - Reflector - Reflector (Dischord 2007)
6. Extra Golden - Underneath the Arches - Songs Inspired by Underneath the Arches (Thrill Jockey 2006)
7. !!! - Yadnus - Myth Takes (WARP 2007)
8. Jamie Lidell - Multiply - Multiply (WARP 2005)
9. Nikka Costa - Do We Know Each Other ft. Prince (Sa-Ra Remix)
10. Low - Hatchet - Drums and Guns (Sub Pop 2007)
11. Why? - Gemini (Birthday Song) - Elephant Eyelash (Anticon 2005)

New Music: Tinariwen, Antelope, The Poison Arrows

Tinariwen - Imidiwan Winakalin (World Village 2007)

Tinariwen – Aman Iman: Water is Life / World Village

When you hear modern renditions of the blues, they just don't quite have the same emotional impact of recordings from the Delta bluesmen of the 40s. It's not that they aren't true to the characteristics of the genre or they lack the musical chops, but the emotional impact just does not parallel. It's been a good chunk of time since the majority of American blues men had something truly soul-stirring to be emoting with their rural twang and heartfelt, down-trodden lyrics. Now if we leave the muggy swamps of the Delta and head across the Atlantic to the desolate plains of the Sahara I bet we can find a few people who truly have the blues.

"I was walking down the street in Tessalit when I saw two of my friends being bundled into the back of a police vehicle," he recalls. "So I immediately returned to Algeria. Whilst on my way back, I heard that Iyad Ag Ghali had begun the rebellion, which was in progress by the time I returned. I joined them, living in the hills, attacking convoys and so on." It was during this time that the great legend of Tinariwen – involving them riding into battle with Kalashnikovs in their hands and Stratocasters across their backs – was first coined. All true, he confirms. – "Riders on the Storm" -Andy Gill, The Word (UK)

Watching friends disappear without a shred of hope for their return, kamikaze-like attacks on passing convoys, attempting to change a society built on archaic feudal hierarchies, living in the unfriendly and desolate wasteland of the Sahara; yeah, I'd say the Tuareg group known as Tinariwen has the blues. Hell, even their band name means "empty places."

Formed in the aforementioned rebel camps of Colonel Ghadaffi, a Libyan strongman, in the Western Sahara, group leader Ibrahim Ag Housseyni, who is said to resemble a mesh of Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix and Carlos Santana physically and spiritually, and his cast of nomadic band members travel the Sahara playing for fellow nomads and whoever else cares to listen. Appropriately called Tishoumaren or "the music of the unemployed," Tinariwen's music parallels the ethos of blues, reggae and punk's early days, a rebellion against the masses, music for revolutionary change, music for political awakening. They have been developing this style for upwards of 25 years though, so the message has been considerably softened, or perhaps waned is the better word. Not that they have stopped fighting for their beliefs, but the subject material has widened to include traveling, love, friends and the unparalleled life of the desert. Aman Iman: Water is Life could be called their third proper album; 2001's The Radio Tisdas Sessions and 2004's Amassakoul have been banned in Algeria and their home country of Mali, but are thankfully available to Western audiences.

Now if the back-story was not intriguing enough, we get to the fantastic music. You will immediately recognize it as the blues, but this is a whole new derivative of the genre. The obvious reference points are going to be "the African John Lee Hooker," Ali Farka Touré, or even Pakistan's Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, but we are definitely dealing within a secluded niche. Gone are the traditional lutes of Middle Eastern and North African music and in their place guitars and more electric guitars. In fact, Tinariwen have four guitarists who rotate taking the lead while the others weave in and out with a mixture of bluesy rhythmic chops and the quick elliptical curlicues heard in so much Middle Eastern music. But as compared to most music from that region you have probably heard, the tempo is significantly slowed down; it grooves along on that Western African pace that guarantees head nodding if not some relaxed dancing. The hypnotic circle of guitars usually constructed in five-tone scales is supported rhythmically by a slew of handclaps and traditional percussion like the djembe hand drum and the rattling shekere. The call-and-response vocals and shrill ululations hark back to traditional music,and the sinuous and smooth lead vocals sung in French and Tamashek acts as an instrument in its own right. Nothing is rushed and the results sound more like a jam session than anything else. If you close your eyes and concentrate, you can easily picture yourself surrounded by the musicians sitting under the ancient Saharan night sky.

Aman Iman is a mesmerizing album that I guarantee will have you reaching for the repeat button on numerous occasions. Hypnotic, psychedelic and exotic, Tinariwen is probably playing the truest form of blues in modern music. As opposed to just about any contemporary musician, they play because they have to play; it's just their way of life. In recent years, the group has gained a significant amount of attention and has performed at a number of festivals around the world from the Festival International in Lafayette, Louisiana to Le festival au Désert in Tin-Essako, Mali, a remote region of the Sahara Desert. They live the life of a true nomadic musician, completely homeless, practically outlawed in their home country and performing for revolutionary change. Tinariwen is the blues.






Antelope - Reflector (Dischord 2007)

Antelope – Reflector / Dischord

I initially came across Antelope back in 2003 during my first and only MacRock experience (whatever happened to MacRock anyways? it seemed like a really big deal back then but has exponentially diminished in every year since). It was the final night of the conference and I was determined to see Prefuse 73 even though it was one of the few shows off James Madison's campus and my geographical knowledge of Harrisburg, VA was minimal at best. After looping around the mountain town for a good hour or so, I finally stumbled across my final bar destination and grabbed a wall seat to enjoy the Dischord showcase before the main attraction finished off the night (Dischord showcase and Prefuse 73 together??? Yessir, pretty fucking awesome). It was just days after Black Eyes had decided to part ways and I was pretty pissed because they were one of have-to-see bands of the weekend, but the group that stepped into their slot ended up being just as captivating. Three skinny white guys took the stage announced as Antelope and proceeded to rip through thirty minutes of minimal but catchy-as-hell pop-punk tunes and rotating instruments between each song. They left the stage as quietly as they arrived and the memory was eventually eclipsed by amazing sets from El Guapo and Prefuse 73.

That was the last time I heard from Antelope until last week when I merrily pulled Reflector from my large pile of mail, their first proper full-length and the first released music since 2003's two EPs. Made up of multi-instrumentalists Justin Moyer (who goes by Justin Destroyer in Supersystem, formerly El Guapo), Bee Elvy and Mike Andre (both ex-members of Vertebrates), Antelope is exactly how I remember them: tight, minimal and catchy-as-hell. They craft a sound that could be described as post-pop-punk-dance, but that is probably one too many hyphens for it's own good. If you think what a stripped-back, calmed-down Supersystem might sound like, you are getting closer. But there is a lot more going on then just fluctuations of Dischordian characteristics; there is a definite inspiration from Western African music, especially the Senegal/Mali region. They utilize these tight, elliptical electric guitar melodies over simple dance rhythms that draw influence from groups like Orchestra Baobob but with a DC vibe. Reciprocal bass lines circle effortlessly and Moyer's nasally, unassuming voice acts mostly as a fourth instrument with the compact, repetitive lyrics. Produced by Ian MacKaye, Reflector is only 25-minutes long, and the longest track barely reaches over three-and-a-half minutes, but does not leave you unfulfilled because it packs a hearty punch with each of the ten songs. If you are like myself and just find Supersystem a little too overbearing and headache-inducing, Antelope is for you. Stripped down to just the essentialities, Reflector is Dischord punk philosophy at it's finest; and don't worry, the lyrics contain the subtle political pessimism you crave with each Dischord release.






The Poison Arrows - Straight into the Drift (File 13 2007)

The Poison Arrows – Straight into the Drift EP / File 13

Chicago’s Justin Sinkovich is not a man content with sitting idly for too long. Best known for fronting the lush post-rock outfit Atombombpocketknife in the late 90s/early 00s, he first spent time with mid-90s Fugazi-inspired alternative rock band Thumbnail. When ABPK all but disbanded in 2004 for side projects, Sinkovich was left to concentrate on his remix alias The Poison Arrows. (He has also had a hand in starting music discovery sites like Better Propaganda and Epitonic) The first EP under the moniker, 2004’s Trailer Park, featured Sinkovich experimenting with a spatially gigantic mix of dark electronics, noise and underlying melody. The solo act just wasn’t working though and he began collaborating once again, this time with ex-Don Caballero bassist Patrick Morris and drummer Adam Reach, who backs another ex-Atombombpocketknife member, Che Arthur. The trio solidified the final line-up of The Poison Arrows and they holed up in Sinkovich’s effect pedals and second-hand instrument-laden studio basement, The Plaza, to record and rehearse. Unorthodoxly, the trio decided to ship out the resulting material for remixes before they even put together an album themselves and the digit-download only Premix was released in late 2006 featuring similar-minded artists like Martin Rev of Suicide, TRS-80, Brian Deck of Red Red Meat and Califone, Trans Am/Hot Snakes producer Jonathan Kreinik and more taking turns re-imagining the unfinished material and included an accompanying music video for each song. This brings us to the first proper un-remixed material released by The Poison Arrows as a trio, the Straight Into the Drift EP.

With the musicians involved, there are a couple rightful assumptions you can go ahead and make. Number one being Morris’s signature bass sound he perfected during his days with Don Cabellero slashing effortlessly through the mix. And like Atombombpocketknife before it, the Arrows’ sound is very atmospheric and on the darker side of post-rock. In fact, the music is so reliant on Morris’s chugging bass loops and the chunky, blown out rhythm of Reach’s drums, at times it comes off Tool-ish, but in the best way possible. Sinkovich’s stark metallic guitar pierces the thick low end though and sends the music shimmering into aggro-pop territory. All four of the songs sound as if they have been poured over endlessly perfecting just the right feedback noise and instrument tone to wrangle every unnerving emotion possible, think Thee More Shallows collaborating with Shellac. Sparse vocals from Sinkovich and friends add a needed degree of humanity to the sound infusing an underlying pop sensibility that blindly finds its way through the dense atmosphere on several occasions. Though only four songs, the 25 minutes of music is a surprisingly hearty meal. “Straight into the Drift” has almost a late 90s dark alt-rock nostalgia vibe to it, “Lockaway” rides on Sinkovich’s shimmering guitar and Reach’s effect-trigger-happy drum kit and “Clear Cut” is a hypnotic blend of menacing, off-kilter vocals, Morris’s unrelenting bass and metallic guitar stabs. Straight into the Drift is definitely a promising debut from the Chicago trio and hopefully they release some more material before losing interest and forming a new set of stemming side-projects.

New Music: Gutevolk, Matta Llama, Magik Markers

Gutevolk - Portable Rain (Noble 2007)

Gutevolk - Tiny People Singing Over The Rainbow / Noble

Tiny People Singing Over The Rainbow is the fourth album of electro-acoustic sunshine from Hirono Nishiyama. Previously operating under her given name, Nishiyama worked closely with Nobukazu Takemura, releasing a few records on his Childisc label, and even providing cute, understated vocal work to some of Takemura's childlike electronic pieces. Her marriage to Noble is a no-brainer. Noble's aim is to curate "music for daily life", a kind of easygoing aesthetic characterized as "purely beautiful and simply liberated". The label has also released material by Kazumasa Hashimoto, Midori Hirano, and Yasushi Yoshida, all musicians interested in creating wonderfully naive compositions.

To say I'm in love with Japanese "music for daily life" would be an understatement. From Lullatone's patented pajama pop to Yuichiro Fujimoto's tiny minimalism, this type of thing sends me drifting along without a care in the world. Gutevolk will perhaps be more digestable than those artists, more recognizable to Western internet-seekers, those devoted to constant pursuit of cutting edge blogosphere fanfare. Falling in a loosely-bound school of mellowgold indie pop featuring the likes of Stereolab, The Books, and Manitoba/Caribou., Gutevolk certainly has the capacity to perk plenty of ears. "Portable Rain" is a long stroll on a brisk spring day, projecting hazy dreams of such a perfect setting. Songs like "This Moon Is Following Me" and "Ao To Kura" are playful indie pop-filtered bossa nova numbers with Bacharachian sensibilities. It all rolls along so effortlessly. "Seed of Sky" and "I Like Rainbow" opt for less structured pastures, in tandem scoring an escape to dreamlike dandilion meadows.

I don't know "whats in the water" over in Japan but the country keeps giving birth to wonderful cultural exports that are beguiling and more than a little alien to Western sensibilities. But I don't mean to write a treatise on cultural cross-pollenation; in fact I aim to do the opposite. After this last sentence is typed, I will retire to my wonderful backporch and watch the sun set on a beautiful March day, soaking in life's simple pleasures.




Matta Llama - A Sky Blue Screw (Mad Monk 2007)

Matta Llama - S/T / Mad Monk

Matta Llama is a mysterious psych rock force, scorching the earth direct from NYC. All other details are sketchy other than the band being a foursome featuring Arik Moonhawk Roper doing it up on bass guitar, who, for all I know, could be the rightful king of Atlantis. Matta Llama sure sounds mystical, existing hidden for thousands of years hidden deep in the Himalayas. Its all about lost cities, the kind Calvino wrote about. If it can be imagined then it might as well exist, no matter how surreal. Lets not forget that "psych" is still short for "psychedelic", and the jams have to be a proper trip. Feel the gravitational pull here on Matta Llama's self-titled LP.

"Egypt Chic" comes to us from deep inside a cavern. Jazzy caveman drumming and undulating bongwater bass dimly light the way until a lightning breathed, guitar-wielding hydra emerges from the depths. Things are nice and chill until that guitar, rightfully placed to shake things up. "Thetan Cruise" is a heavy contrast to the dark opener, like hopping a freight train to the cosmos, chugging along with a fuzzed out groove and particularly athletic drumming always picking up speed. Whoever the guitar wizard is, his intrusions are always tasteful in how they totally blow a hole straight thru your brain. Matta Llama is given a voice on "A Sky Blue Screw". Its like peaking in on someone's acid trip, hearing their conversations with God, with them vehemently making demands for change in reality. Kind of rambling and certainly creepy, this barely coherent, definitely enraged voice kind of reminds me of Swans' Michael Gira in its sheer vainbusting intensity.

Matta Llama's debut is a proper one, appealing equally to true New Weird Americans and to those who think Dead Meadow is the only band still soldiering on with the psych rock schtick. This stuff truly exists outside of schtick, the inhuman grunting on "A Deepening Sky" sounding completely unaware of itself as such, done in a vaccuum where everything sticks with a sincere belief that grunting is an acceptable form of artistic expression. I wholeheartedly agree that after hearing enough people talk it all eventually devolves into just a bunch of grunting. "Grunt more often", decreed the great guardian of Matta Llama.




Magik Markers - Don't Come Home (Arbitrary Signs 2007)

Magik Markers - Castel Franco: Veneto/Zagreb Super Report / Arbitrary Signs

Its hard to believe that I've been holding my breath for twenty-three years. Somehow Magik Markers caught my blindspot, slipped thru the cracks, but now I can finally exhale. Castel Franco: Veneto/Zagreb Super Report is yet another limited release cd-r from one of out-sound's favorite rock bands. This record won't be too surprising for those following the band's prolific output, but as for myself, for once without those jaded glasses, this album came like a wicked uppercut, knocking me into the stratosphere of deep personal introspection. Like the first time I heard Born Against or Guyana Punchline, somehow the ferocity of Magik Markers has gotten under my skin with moving cacaphony. I don't mean to descend into Braffisms, but this band may change your life.

Formerly a trio, Magik Markers is now, at least for this recording, the duo of Pete Nolan & Elisa Ambrogio. You may have heard about Ambrogio's tendency to devour showgoers. It may seem like histrionics but theres a kind of unsteady trust beaming from her, an animalistic unpredictability, challenging the connection between performer and audience. Listen to the recording. Listen to her tear and rip at the guitar, casting off inner demons. Maybe most importantly, go watch to get the full treatment. Like staring into the Bucket Of Truth, its easy to lose yourself in the maelstrom, but like Ian Robert's detective with existential angst, I say "Don't you think I already know that?". The group's free-rock dirges are intense and ultimately cathartic, addressing frustrations both long-simmering and freshly struck. Its like breaking things for the hell of it, shaking your fist at the sky in defiance even though you know it won't change a thing.

"Fire of the Mind" kicks off this live recording. Heavy background chatter is like captured EVP as Ambroggio channels demons thru her admittedly "masturbatory" guitar style, constantly climaxing as Pete Nolan lays down bed-of-nails drumbeats. "Don't Come Home" is some of the most vitally urgent music I've heard in ages, channeling early Sonic Youth thru the epic guitar palette of *gasp* Neil Young. Ambroggio's narrative passionately espousing harsh travels far from home, a life void of comfort and familiarity. "Can't Kill Luck" is the apex of the album, covered in rattlesnakes, Ambroggio plays an angel of death, disguised as a "buxom woman, black hair, with a firm ass and small waist", virulently laying down the facts of life to a dying man, recounting the glorious, never again attainable attributes of youth and the inevitable march towards death. The second-half of the album picks up the pace, the group settling into a groove with their patented low-end anti-rock, charging forward sonically with reckless abandon. The record ends with a hovering drone number, running at ten minutes its a good way to ease your way out of things.

Castel Franco: Veneto/Zagreb Super Report captures Magik Markers at a time when they are shining brighter than ever. This may be that record, the kind of essential document that becomes a standard point of reference for namedropping record nerds. There's a heavy haze that forms over the course of the record, but its worth it to stand tall and enjoy it from start to finish. This may only be one of fifteen release for the band this year but they certainly have me by the throat for the whole ride.

Used-Bin Bargains: Wilson Simonal

Wilson Simonal - Destino E Destino De Severino Nonô Na Cidade De São Sebastião Do Rio De Janeiro (Oh Yeah!) (Odeon 1970)

Wilson Simonal – Simona / Odeon

My introduction to Wilson Simonal came with my first exploration into the amazing hip-hop, jazz, funk and soul magazine, Wax Poetics (of which I now read like a bible). Featured about three-fourths way through issue number eight, Greg Casseus gives an exhaustive account of the tumultuous career of Simonal and in turn introduces one of South America’s biggest fallen pop stars to an entirely new audience. (This is probably the best time to point out that the majority of the information I am about to divulge was pulled from that article, “The Saga of Wilson Simonal” –Greg Casseus, Wax Poetics, Issue Number Eight, Spring 2004, as well as the Allmusic.com entry, and you are best suited to read the entire story from the people doing the all-important legwork). It is downright amazing that a performer as gigantically popular as Simonal was in Brazil and South America as a whole in the 60s is still relatively unknown to the rest of the world. It just goes to show you the monolithic influence of the press, who condemned Simonal in the early 70s for supposedly acting as an informant for the infamous Department of Order and Social Protection/Departamento de Ordem Política e Social (DOPS) and the destructive right-wing military coup that would reign over Brazil from 1964 to 1984. During his 40-year musical career, which stretches all the way to his death in June of 2000, Simonal went from being Brazil’s biggest Black entertainer, rivaling Pelé at the peak of his popularity, to an ignored outcast in the very same country. It is a story that screams for a drama-filled biopic… oh! and there is some amazing music involved as well. Since we like to concentrate on a particular album with this column, I am going to highlight 1970’s Simona, not only because it features Simonal at a creative crossroads of style and at nearly the peak of his popularity, but also (mostly) because it’s the album I cheerily stumbled across in the used section of Reckless Records last week.

The Rio de Janeiro-born Wilson Simonal De Castro began his musical career following a stint in the army in the late 50s as a personal assistant to Carlos Imperial, a writer, talent scout, booking agent and maybe the first man in Brazil to take rock-and-roll seriously. The time spent with Imperial was schooling in all things media and entertainment, from how to handle critics to performing in any style thrown at him. He developed a pop star’s grasp on how to sway a crowd and a silky smooth, genre-transcending baritone that rarely was caught off-key. He debuted on wax with 1962’s A Nova Dimesão do Samba and signed to Odeon Records where he would stay for the next decade until controversy forced him to sign with rival label Philips. Throughout the 60s, Simonal would take on every popular style in vogue and mix and mesh them into completely new genres at will. His debut album, a commercial misstep, featured arrangements in the vein of American R&B; and doo wop but with traditional samba rhythms. 1963’s Tem Algo Mais, on the other hand, found a comfortable blend of bossa nova, jazz and orchestral pop that established Simonal as a musical force. For the rest of the decade, he continually paved the way for hip new sounds by experimenting with combinations of styles and enlisting young, aspiring songwriters including the whose who of Tropicália (who would later rally against him and even later retake his side) including Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Chico Buarque and Geraldo Vandré.

By 1966, the military coup had taken over the Brazilian government and the popular music scene underwent significant stylistic changes. Bossa Nova was being ousted by a superficial form of Beatles-inspired pop/rock aimed at teenagers known as “iê- iê- iê” and Simonal was experimenting with a new collage-happy sound known as pilantragem or “piracy.” With his excellent boogaloo-inspired soul-jazz-samba backing trio, Som Três, he basically pulled source material from wherever he found inspiration and utilized it in his music. This stylistic philosophy (not too far from sampling really) elevated Simonal’s career to pop star status and along with hugely selling records, he hosted his own weekly TV variety show. At what was probably the apex of his career, ’66-’68, he issued a series of albums called Alegria! Alegria! which produced a great amount of popular singles in Brazil as well as being the beginnings of world-wide recognition. Simultaneously, there was exponentially growing tension between the overthrown Brazilian government and the bubbling university counterculture. The military leaders were shouting “Brazil: Love It or Leave It” completely skewing all views of patriotism while the burgeoning leftist and Tropicália movements (who ironically where the most patriotic of the bunch) were demanding people and especially pop stars to choose sides. Simonal was stuck in the middle; he was a rich, widely known Black man who really had no interest in politics or supporting the military regime which pissed off the coup as much as the young left-wingers who either considered you “one of us” or “one of them.”

This about brings us to 1970 and the release of Simona. Simonal had just outperformed global star Sergio Mendes and the Brasil ’66 in front of tens of thousands of people and started his own production and management company Simonal Produções Ltda. to try an expand his growing media empire. His backing band, Som Três, were making a name of their own with the albums he produced, his songs were being made into themes for the national soccer team who won their third-straight World Cup in Mexico 1970, and funk was beginning to grab a hold of Brazil as well as the rest of the world. Simona, his third-to-last for Odeon, features Simonal in a number of masks including party-starter, balladeer and pop star. His shape-changing, silky-smooth baritone jumps from classic Brazilian soul to almost Rat Pack-like crooning with equal ferocity. With Som Três performing in full form, the album opens with the upbeat Fred Falcao/Arnoldo Mederios-penned “Sem Essa” which features the sound of Northern Brazilian soul: smooth, buoyant vocals with multi-layered shaker rhythms, popping horns and orchestrated accompaniment. My personal favorite, “Destino E Destino De Severino Nonô Na Cidade De São Sebastião Do Rio De Janeiro (Oh Yeah!)” follows with this completely infectious stripped-down funk pop groove. Fittingly, the lyrics tell the tale of a northeastern singer becoming a star in Rio and forgetting his roots, how poignant. If this track has not been cleverly sampled, then it’s a damn shame. The Latin influence shows it’s head with the cha cha rhythm and smooth orchestra-pop of “Comigo é Assim,” and “O Mundo Igual De Cada Um” features a light and fluffy funk-pop spirit that rides a baritone sax squawk, horn stabs and vibrant Brazilian guitar. The second half of the album is decisively more laid-back with tracks like the absolutely ghostly “Sistema Nervoso” which includes Twilight Zone-like sound effects and the patient organ crawl of album closer “Não Tem Solução.” Even “Aí Você Começa A Chorar,” which I assume would be considered a bit aged and overproduced for the time, is still completely addictive with Simonal’s vocal dexterity jumping from oddly tuned falsetto to low growl. With my limited knowledge of the coinciding music scene at Simona’s release, it is hard for me to put the album in accurate cultural and musical perspective, but I will say that is an absolute joy to listen too no matter what the context. It is definitely much smoother, produced and mainstream than any of the Tropicália records but just as infectious, if not more so.

From here on out it was all downhill for the career of Wilson Simonal. Leading the way for the MPB movement that would dominate Brazilian music through the 70s, Simonal recorded two more albums for Odeon before a hugely traumatic mistake that would take 30 years to recover from. In 1971, Simonal met with his accountant, Rafael Vivani, to go over his books and determine where he stood financially. After Vivani informed him that despite selling millions of records world-wide, his over-exuberant pop-star lifestyle had in fact left him not only broke but also in debt. Simonal poorly chose in a fit of rage to contact his “friends” at the DOPS to threaten the accountant while they were off-duty in an attempt to reveal conspiracies of embezzlement. Nothing was accomplished and Vivani sued Simonal for extortion, which instigated a wave of terrible press accusing Simonal of being in cohorts with the government and acting as an informant for the DOPS. Not completely unlike the Red Scare in the U.S., Simonal was ousted and blacklisted by the music industry and being an easily accusable public figure, was always assumed guilty in anything related to political-media scandals, like Veloso and Gil’s exiles for example. The decisively non-political musician kept on recording albums after signing with Odeon rival Philips and later RCA in the 70s, but his popularity was diminishing by the day as both the left and right condemned him for false accusations. There were even a few albums in the 80s and 90s on independent labels, but the damage was done and it was almost as if the complete memory of Simonal’s amazingly productive music career was wiped from existence. He married a lawyer who spent the majority of the 90s successfully clearing his name though Simonal was already on the slippery slope of alcoholism and depression. Two years after his final album, 1998’s Bem Brasil-Estilo Simonal, Wilson Simonal died of cirrhosis. His name was eventually cleared after the Justice Ministry and Department of Strategic Affairs documents were liberated in the post-dictatorship amnesty. Thankfully, through the last decade’s interest in Brazilian music and vinyl collecting along with the hard work of his sons Max De Castro and Wilson Simoninha, both prospering musicians in their own right, Simonal’s music is once again reaching fans across the globe. Like Simona, his LPs are being reissued on CD for lucky music fans like myself to merrily stumble across in record stores everywhere.

Singleversity #2

Audiversity’s weekly column on random music in exactly 144 words.

(Ed. - Originally this was called Threeversity, but in the spirit of simplicity we've decided to retroactively relabel all of these posts. The content remains unchanged.)

MA:
(#144 of a random playlist generated from my ever-changing database of 12,500+ songs)



I’m not too pleased with what the spirits of random chose this week: RJD2’s “Clean Living.” Not that I dislike the song, but RJ is an artist I have fell out of sorts with in the last year. I have yet to hear his new album, but everyone seems pretty up in arms that he turned his back on hip-hop. Did you actually listen to Since We Last Spoke? Did you really not see it coming? All rants aside, “Clean Living” was my favorite song from that disc until I heard where he sampled that amazingly elastic bass line from, Pure Essence’s "Third Rock." To say RJ sampled liberally would be putting it lightly. Personally, I like the original version better; it’s the actual definition of smooth-prog-funk, a genre explored way too rarely. Who knew underground Cincinnati circa 197? was so silky smooth.

JR:



Mythos was mainly guided by the cosmic wisdom of Stephan Kaske. A similar figure to Silver Apple's Simeon, Kaske was seemingly touched by the burning knowledge of the night sky; not simply an electronics guru AND sitar wiz, this "high school dropout" was capable of incredible flute wizardry. "Message" is culled from 1975's Dreamlab, a testament to the power of psychedelic drugs to pry open frontiers of the mind otherwise not yet within our evolutionary reach. Train your senses on the sound of a hovering spaceship; synth, drums, bass, and flute all combining, intensifying, bursting forth with manic energy. Suddenly the hovering, fluorescent shape of Kaske in your dreams, riffing madly on that flute to open interdimensional doorways. Its a one-off affair, much like a DMT trip; living forever with "We are brothers!! Put Your Weapons Away!!" emblazoned in gold on the back of your eyelids.

PM:

As my name is Patrick and my heritage is 100% Irish-American (the last of a dying breed), St. Paddy’s Day is a soft spot for me; also, it never gets old hearing people ask what I’m doing for “St. You Day!” Seriously. In the spirit of the holiday, here’s something from three guys who are always in the mood to talk about how Irish they are: Wolfe Tones (named after Theobald Wolfe Tone, 1798 Irish Rebellion leader) have been banned from Aer Lingus flights and taken off Irish radio for being a little too Irish (in Ireland, even!). “Come Out Ye Black and Tans” is my favorite anti-English song, a 1920s jig originally written by Dominic Behan and shortened here to three verses. You can be sure I’m only going to remember the chorus after my sixth Guiness later tonight... Sláinte to that, then.

New Music: Numero Group, The Huxtables

Annette Poindexter & the Pieces of Peace - Mama (Numero Group 2007, originally Twinight 1970)

Johnny Williams - Breaking Point (Numero Group 2007, originally Twinight 1967)

Various Artists – Twinight's Lunar Rotation / Numero Group

After unearthing dusty soul miss-hits in Miami, Detroit, Phoenix and churches everywhere, Numero Group returns home for their second dig into the wonderfully rich history of Chicago's underground music scene. They introduced the Eccentric Soul series with the windy city's lost Bandit Label and have spent the two years since piecing together the seemingly buried story of a similar imprint born out of ambition, business know-how and a bluesy R&B; singer who went by Syl Johnson. From 1967 to 1972, Twinight Records rode the funds brought in by Sylvester Thompson's continuous stream of local hits under his hipper alias while putting out 45 after 45 of local musicians attempting to mimic the success story of labels like Stax and Motown. Despite cultivating a good amount of talent and masterfully working the PR game, the bands just could not breakout of the all-night radio stream of no-name singles from aspiring artists the DJ's dubbed the lunar rotation. Eventually, most of the promising young groups lost hope and returned to their day jobs, Syl Johnson left Chicago for the burgeoning Hi Records and Willie Mitchell's crafted rhythm section, and the two men behind Twinight returned to their independent promotion gigs.

Howard Bedno and Peter Wright, of independent promotion group Bedno-Wright Assoicates, honed their PR skills by cleverly aiming the music of Chess, Stax, Motown, Atlantic and numerous smaller labels into the ears of Chicagoans throughout the late 50s and 60s by any means possible, whether it be your local watering hole's jukebox or by the omniscient radio waves of WVON, Chicago's premier R&B station at the time. They knew the game and they were good at playing it, so it only made sense to utilize these skills for themselves as well and henceforth Twinight (which was initially called Twilight but tweaked at the end of 1967 due to a California imprint already owning the name) was born as a potentially lucrative side project. Incredibly important to the upstart was a silent third partner, the program director of WVON, Mr. E. Rodney Jones (I told you they were masterminds of the PR game), who was also the de facto manager of a seconds-before-breaking-out Syl Johnson. Jones talked Bedno into funding Johnson's first single in 1966 ("Straight Love No Chaser"), which was a local hit, and a year later Johnson's nationally-charting second single ("Come On Sock It To Me") was sporting Twilight 001.

This began the Twinight cycle of the next 4 years: Johnson would produce a hit and the incoming funds were re-invested into other local acts attempting to produce another star. For one reason or another though none of the artists was able to breakout of the local scene. Over the span of Twinight's existence, Bedno and Wright released numerous soul and R&B; 45s but not one of the non-Johnson singles would claim any national attention. As this two-disc compilation clearly portrays, it was not for lack of talent and it obviously wasn't the result of poor promotions. I guess you can mark it down as one of life's many mysteries, because no matter how I try to wrap my brain around it, there is absolutely no reason that any of these included songs could not have been rocking the pop-R&B charts along side the many hits of Atlantic, Motown and Stax. Eventually Johnson got fed up with the lack of progress in the label's popularity (and obviously his earned money being invested in flopping local groups) and left for Willie Mitchell's Hi Records where he had another string of hits. Without those driving funds, the label could not support itself and quietly shut its doors in 1972. Bedno and Wright went back to promoting independently and the master tapes were stored away for dust collecting.

Numero opted to not include any of Syl Johnson's individual cuts on this two-disc collection, which makes sense since they are concentrating on the obscure, but there is a good amount of his production and influence strewn around the comp. The 40 songs that are included frequent the pop-R&B; genre with stops in instrumental funk, heart-wrenching soul and throwback blues from musicians you more than likely have never heard of and probably will never again. They are the local talent show winners, the powerful voices from the neighborhood church's gospel choir, the child protégés, the on-the-corner fast-talker with his decent singing girlfriends and the disc jockeys with ambition. The songs' musical themes are familiar, though you have never heard the actual song before; they ooze this impossible-to-place nostalgia like the day-tripping bass line of Stormy's "The Devastator," the buoyant pop strings of Annette Poindexter & the Pieces of Peace's "Mama," the Donny Hathaway keyboard twinkles of Josephine Taylor's "I've Made Up My Mind" care of… oh, wait that's actually an early appearance from Hathaway, or the soulful Curtis Mayfield groove from future Impression Nate Evans.

With Twinight's Lunar Rotation, Numero Group has once again supplied us with an amazing compilation of crate-diggers' dreams, but you have to wonder when these re-issuers will hit the eventual ceiling. Even with the rampant revolving door of independent labels during this era, there are still only a finite number of them in existence. At some point, the diggers are going to stick their shovel in the ground and hear that clunking sound of rock bottom. Once all the gems are unearthed, where will they turn? In what direction will labels like Numero Group head towards? The men behind the N, Rob Sevier, Ken Shipley and Tom Lunt, have not come close to letting us down yet, so there is little to worry about in the immediate future, but you have to be at least a little excited anticipating the next eventual wave of digging.






The Huxtables - Hopper C (the Bunny) (Famous Class 2007)

The Huxtables – A Touch of Wonder / Famous Class

Well twenty years from now, The Huxtables may very well be one of those bands being dug up during the next generation of crate-digging. They are a relatively obscure duo, have a quirky name, are on a tiny D.I.Y. label and have a sound that is infectious without being typical. As long as this album goes sorely unnoticed then we are in business… well maybe that's too much to ask because I don't feel like waiting 20 years to enjoy the jovial rambunctiousness of A Touch of Wonder.

This is the third of the exuberantly packaged Famous Class albums I have received in the last few months, and it doesn't come close to disappointing. First came the infectious synth-pop of Snakes Say Hisss!, then the raucous surf of Boogie Boarder and now we have basement party-noise of The Huxtables. In fact, I just about tackled the poor girl who pulled it out of its envelope in my office a few days ago. She removed the strikingly colored 60-page handmade booklet from its bland yellow mailing envelope and simply said, "wow." I took once glance, recognized it immediately and flew out of my chair from across the room and snatched it out of her trembling hand before she could say another word. Sure she has not talked to me since, but hell, I don't need anyone because The Huxtables are bringing all the party I need directly to my headphones.

With twelve songs in just over twenty minutes, A Touch of Wonder is the best kind of party there is: brief and to the point. Each of the first three tracks barely surpasses the one-minute mark and match wits between scraping electric noise and raw drum/guitar interplay. As with the rest of the album as well, synths and bass make occasional appearances to accent the sound, but everything is basically thrown into a trashy mid-frequency range and sprayed out confetti-style on whoever is willing to toss their body around the cement basement. It’s loose and youthful but not all together juvenile. “Crystal Cubes” sounds Hella-ish but at half-speed (which is still pretty fast), “The Death of Private Pig/Hogs of the Road” features some Rob Crow-like guitar lines before they seem to lose interest with that idea and move on, and “The Goose” could have been a GSL throwaway from five years ago. These kids are decent musicians (I think), but seem more content to stay in the basement playing for their friends rather than producing a well-developed album. In fact, most of the appeal of an album like A Touch of Wonder is the whatever vibe of the music. The Huxtables sound as if they have been doing this to cure boring Saturday nights for years without any interest of taking it too seriously or to the next level. It’s two kids with no formal training slamming away on some hand-me-down instruments and having a damn good time doing it. Twenty years from now, that very well may be the free-spirit we need and crave, and if for some reason no one takes much interest this time around, I’ll be there to dig it up for a second chance.

New Music: Gowns, Zu & Nobukazu Takemura, Wilderness Pangs

Gowns - Fake July (Cardboard 2007)

Gowns - Red State / Cardboard

Arguably the most famous quotation from Bulgakov's masterpiece "The Master and Margarita" is "manuscripts don't burn." It was a defiant mark of protest to the Soviet government and the NKVD at a time when anti-Stalinist works were being eradicated and artists were being thrown in jail, their books burned and the works in theory burned with them. But no idea burns that is in the mind of its creator, and perhaps no idea burns so intensely as the idea of burning itself, which is what Gowns have accomplished on their latest album, Red State.

The band's two members - Erika Anderson of Amps for Christ and Ezra Buchla of The Mae Shi - have crafted a 42-minute album that is the sound of fire. But it's not just a raging blaze as featured MySpace song and much blogged-about eight-minute epic "White Like Heaven" leads you to believe; in fact, that's the centerpiece of the album and clearly its longest, but it is not necessarily its best. Fire comes in all shapes and sizes: The brush fire, the house fire, the raging blaze, the pitiful flame. Red State brilliantly puts a soundtrack to all of these forms.

It starts out innocently enough, a strummed guitar introducing "Fargo" before a list of drugs takes over and the swell of white noise-feedback as an undercurrent kicks in; the hot coals of Sonic Youth's past have arrived. It's everywhere. Buchla does a decent job when he gets his chance to take the lead mic, whispering here on "Fake July" to great effect. But it really is Anderson's wonderfully smokey vocal delivery that just out-impresses with that desolate kind of voice you expect to hear smoldering at the end of a long night when it's all over and the fire marshalls have declared the blaze well and truly over with. "Clawless" illustrates this best, an a cappella performance that provides an uneasy yet poignant moment before the rumbling rush of "Mercy Springs" arrives. This is the sound of fire, that much is true. But it is also the sound of a creativity that burns in the hearts of all true artists, and that speaks as much to the legacy of Bulgakov as any Tea Party song.













Zu & Nobukazu Takemura - Everyone Gets His Own Nemesis (Atavistic 2007)

Zu & Nobukazu Takemura - Identification With the Enemy: A Key to the Underworld / Atavistic

In another take on fire, it not only burns and rages and smolders and kills, it also melts and fuses and re-shapes. That's the kind of fire burning inside the intrepid Italian trio Zu. Behind virtually all of their music is a willingness to obliterate the very notion of genres and meld together the most disparate and different aspects of rock, jazz and electronica. If you've kept up with Chicago-based Atavistic's output for these Romans, you already know that this collaboration with legendary Japanese DJ Nobukazu Takemura is not the first: Mats Gustafsson, Eugene Chadbourne, Dälek (which I had no idea of, I swear), and Ken Vandermark are just some of the high-profile names these boys have worked with in the past, and all of it has been more or less solid output with a nod at the avant-garde.

Identification With the Enemy: A Key to the Underworld is the latest full-length release (There's a 7" picture disc also out, but that's another story for another day) and it blends Zu's willingness to straddle the line between Hella and Yellow Swans with Takemura's decades-honed craft of glitchy electro that has made a comfortable niche of its own on Thrill Jockey. If it seems like a strange concoction, it's not: These guys work chaotically well together, sending what they know of electronic shards, ambient droning and math-rock freak-outs into the furnace to bring it out again a glowing piece of music that will appeal to anyone looking for an aural challenge. "Alone With the Alone" rockets off straight away as a jazz-math disaster the Coleman family would be proud of, but it's not all 666 in outer-space here either. In fact, the album's momentum is almost totally destroyed on the 12-minute ambient timewarp "Usual Conversations With Yama." Though it flitters and flickers with drill n' bass and any minute you expect to hear a Wolf Eyes-esque squall of feedback, it never comes. Just hums along, minding its own business, until you reach the other side and "Awake in the Other Room" sounds like the album that had just been taking a break.

Radio transmissions and high-level frequencies bring you back to the more "songy" sounds of the final two numbers, but the point has by now long been made: Zu have once again teamed up with an artist more than willing to heat up the idea of the genre and the results are one steaming, beautiful pile of lava. One can barely tell what it is anymore, and more often than not it's that kind of sound that really paves the way for the boiling tar and paved asphalt to follow. Sheer madness.













Wilderness Pangs - The Elephant Ghost Saga Parts 1 & 2 (Apocalypse the Apocalypse 2007)

Wilderness Pangs - The Indivisible Squalor of Wilderness Pangs / Apocalypse the Apocalypse

But the worst kind of madness, I'd imagine, is the one you'd have living in hell for all eternity. Now I'm not a bettin' man, but I generally like to err on the side of caution when moral dealings are in play. Baton Rouge, Louisiana-bred Wilderness Pangs, on the other hand, have no such qualms. In fact, they've already sold their souls to Woland in exchange for having their tunes as the soundtrack to a real musician's hell. Frankly, Dream Theater could learn a thing or two from these guys: The Indivisible Squalor of Wilderness Pangs is, much like Zu & Takemura, a total mess of sounds coagulating together to form some glorious, noisy, disheveled kind of album only God himself could love unconditionally.

I take that back. Color me a sinner, but I'm possessed by this album at the moment. Right from the outset of the unassuming "Magic Bullet," you're thrown into the middle of the woods as howling wolves and alien spacecraft surround you. The bayou doesn't get any friendlier after you've been abducted into "The Elephant Ghost Saga Parts 1 & 2," easily one of the noisiest and most overmodulated pieces of music I've heard this year and all the better for its lo-fi effect. If you've ever wondered what living in a Kuznetsov turbofan sounds like without any earplugs, you've got two options: My Bloody Valentine's "Only Shallow" (which is far more akin to a Rolls Royce than a Kuznetsov, pretty and delicate in its power rather than smoking and careless of stealth) or the second song on this 14-tracker. It gets friendlier (if no less strange) in the third part, a separate song altogether. The vocals here really make a difference, and help to anchor what would otherwise be beautiful but somewhat remote. Randy Faucheux (which I sincerely hope is his actual name) can sing along with an erratic horn and make it sound like there's an anchor to it all. Indeed, a few times on here you've actually got a straightforward folk song to balance out the acid-rock hysteria ("I Shot My Favorite Horse" is the first example, but "Wolfman" is also genuinely pretty in its slow-roasted folk pastiche).

In the case of Wilderness Pangs, the manuscripts can't burn because there simply weren't any to begin with; repeating some of these performances must be difficult if not impossible, but once again it's the delivered energy that makes all the difference. Doesn't matter if they don't repeat every shaken coin jar or include every processed beat every single time; the fact that they produced it at all in the first place is a testament both to their seemingly endless supply of ideas and the creative blaze that's currently engulfing Wilderness Pangs. To think this is but their first album... Well, that is something special. Bulgakov would be proud.

New Music: Kieran Hebden & Steve Reid, Cassette Concréte/Joshi, Jandek

Kieran Hebden & Steve Reid - Our Time (Domino 2007)

Kieran Hebden & Steve Reid – Tongues / Domino

Think back to radio circa 1964. Or, if you’re of the younger generation, turn on your local Oldies station. I can guarantee that within an hour or two, you will hear the chugging rhythm and anthemic vocals of the Motown staple “Dancing in the Street” care of Martha Reeves’ powerful vocal cords. Is it the blind optimism of the lyrics that draws so many people to listen cheerfully year after year? Well maybe a little, but I’m guessing that without “one of the most primal rhythms in the Motown annals” (AMG) the song would not have quite as much resounding longevity. While Mrs. Reeves gets most of the credit for the Marvin Gaye-penned anthem, the man behind the soul-stirring rhythm that drives the song into our memories goes for the most part unnoticed. That young man was a 20-year-old Steve Reid and it was the very beginning of an extremely impressive career for the multi-talented percussionist. Over his 40-plus years behind the kit, he has played with nearly every huge name in jazz and R&B;: from Miles Davis to James Brown, Sun Ra to Dione Warwick, Fela Kuti to Dee Dee Bridgewater. And now, still drumming as strong as ever in his early 60s, Reid is finally back in the spotlight for the first time since the mid-70s thanks to his highly-acclaimed 2005 album Spirit Walk on Soul Jazz and his recent collaborations with Kieran Hebden.

Hebden is widely regarded for his work as Four Tet in which he cleverly mixes electronics with jazz, folk, post-rock, hip-hop and found sound. Initially a side-project of the excellent post-rock band Fridge (with Adam Ilhan or Adem and Sam Jeffers), the Four Tet moniker took off in 1999 with his debut solo album Dialogue, and with each concurrent album his popularity has grown exponentially. Hebden took part as an auxiliary to the Spirit Walk recordings where he accentuated the spiritual jazz music with tasteful electronics. This spurred a full on collaboration between Reid and Hebden which first saw the light of day early last year with two installments of The Exchange Sessions on Domino. Each album contained only three tracks, though they clocked in around 15-minutes at a minimum, and featured the colorful improvisations of Reid on drums and percussion and Hebden twiddling his numerous electronic triggers. As I put it my review of the Sessions: “the duo creates an indefinable sound that spits, gurgles, swirls and transports the listener into a completely different aural world.”

Underground music’s odd couple has been touring the globe nonstop it seems over the last year, and if you haven’t caught them yet, I highly recommend it. As their newest set of recordings reveals, this rigorous tour schedule and their constant collaborating has bridged their creative minds and they have never sounded tighter than on this album. First off, Tongues is much more accessible than either of the Exchange Sessions if only because it consists of ten shorter tracks rather than three elongated ones. The overall sound has not changed too much, once again recorded live with no overdubs or edits, but there is a definite higher level of musical comfort where both artists are much more schooled in what to expect from the other and how to react accordingly. Tongues is also decisively more buoyant and playful, Hebden’s electronics bubble and babble and gurgle and swirl over Reid’s patient drum kit and percussive toys. Not that the Exchange Sessions were abrasive or anything of that sort, but the underlying melodies of Tongues just seem a lot more welcoming and hypnotic.

“Our Time” should be all you have to hear to realize that Hebden and Reid are on a completely new level with Tongues. Hebden lays down the kind of warm, looping, harp-like melody that made Rounds so addicting while Reid eases a steadily fluctuating beat underneath. As the song progresses, Hebden’s lighthearted electronic adlibs flutter in between Reid’s flickering idiophones making the kind of loose, jazzy, organic instrumental that Hebden dreamed of making as Four Tet. On the same tip, album opener “The Sun Never Sets” builds from a simple, throbbing keyboard melody into stuttering, stammering, skittering mess of bright electronics and kaleidoscoping percussion that is just a joy to let completely envelope your ears. They even take on the traditional “Greensleeves,” which is spun into a ghostly twinkle of a melody so familiar it almost aches. Everything is just not audible sparklers though. Tracks like “People Be Happy” and “Rhythm Dance” ride on Reid’s chugging drum kit and u.f.o. sound effects; much more in the vein of the earlier recordings but in condensed formats. Whether you really get into the album or not is all about your acceptance of the sometimes off-the-wall improvs from Hebden’s array of noisemakers. Like on “Brain” when they are skipping along to a groovy rhythm and a pleasant melodic loop, when at which point Hebden winds up his chaotic noise and starts drilling incessantly. But then again, the same synthetic wackiness is abundant on “Superheros,” yet I find that one much more playful than annoying.

Tongues is a great progression for the duo and a much more accessible album than either of the Exchange Sessions. If you were a fan of those earlier albums, this is a must have, and if you wanted to like them but had a little trouble sitting through the fatiguing songs, I urge you to give this one a try. Hebden and Reid are once again hitting the road, so definitely keep an eye out because it is an absolutely must see show. They are as well already gearing up for their next recording session in Senegal. Sometime this year, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a remix EP or something of that nature featuring Audion and James Holden, and what we have all been waiting the last six years for: a new Fridge album.






Joshi - Apocalypso (Leisure Class 2006)

Cassette Concréte/Joshi – A Tape Gone Leaves No Trace/Animal Faith / Leisure Class

"I record primarily on cassettes [CHEAP.] b/c manipulations are fluid, immersive, intuitive - direct, skin-on-ironoxide, realistic flesh-tone timewarp, plus playback function. The sound is wet & can find no way, singing backwards into the world. My hands are too large rough and brusque for digital doilies who bruise easy - decks get broke, some smoke...I'd much rather just play 30's-style jazz clarinet or trumpet."

Josh Carrigan does not hide his ethos; he displays them proudly on his MySpace page, granted in fractured free verse, but for anyone willing to pick through, it's right there. Like a DJ who refuses to give up his tangible wax grooves for the mysterious binary reproduction even though it may be more user-friendly, Carrigan understands the allure of imperfection and fluidity that comes with analog anything and I do believe his homemade music would actually lose some of it's appeal in any other format. Throughout this full-length split with his not-so-distant alter ego, Carrigan explores experimental folk music as Cassette Concréte first, then as Joshi; the difference is subtle, but it creates a good swelling of intrigue that roped me in from the start and kept my ears attentive throughout the entire hour-plus exploration through the eerie landscape of lo-fi post-folk.

Packaged in a hand-stitched construction paper case, A Tape Gone Leaves No Trace/Animal Faith actually came out in the summer of 06, but I'm guessing it's taken a little momentum for the idealist, DIY North Hampton, MA label, Leisure Class, to suit up for radio distribution. It's a shame though because Carrigan can really hold his own against similar acts rising up the indie hierarchy like Akron/Family, Animal Collective or Dirty Projectors, though he is decisively more lo-fi. His sort of sound collage mixes plucky folk with tingling ambience and oddly layered overdubs of everything from toy guitars and chimes to field recordings of beaches and faucets. It gently and fluidly wisps around your ears until before long, you're completely lost in the numerous swirling sounds and are content to just lie back in the tall grass and enjoy.

His latest moniker, Cassette Concréte takes on side one of the split-album with A Tape Gone Leaves No Trace, which utilizes an Akron/Family like approach of intertwining gentle vocal melodies and backwoods folk with odd ambient environments and impossible to decipher manipulations of… well everything. "Nest Where We Tape" is a good example of the more folk side as Carrigan sings a loose, over-dub ridden tune about love and travel while his acoustic starts and stops with sparse knee-slap percussion and delicate touches of reverberation. Just a few songs later though, "Drone in the Desert" matches (as the name implies) low-toned drone with distant, shuffling production and what sounds like analog snyth flares which escalates into a bubbling mesh of un-placeable sounds. Yet another approach closes the half as "Icefishing the Americas" pushes into post-rocky ambient haze with tinkling tones and ghostly vocals.

The second half of the split, Animal Faith under the Joshi alias, was recorded a year prior and is obviously the statement of a multi-talented artist playing with ideas. After a quick recording of child banter, the title track surprisingly kicks off with a playful lo-fi drum machine ditty garnished with what sounds like xylophone plinks and a bright, wavering electronic pitch. "Noistereo" follows with an endearing, whistle-touched folk-pop tune that once again opens up to odd electronic manipulation and knee-slapping percussion (hmmm, I'm start to see a theme). "Apocalypso" is my absolute favorite of the album with its stomping drum march leading the way for an array of colorful twinkling noises and what very well may be an improvised bass line. It lacks any obvious structure, but that only adds to the cluttering appeal, which is really the most endearing part of the entire collection of homemade songs. It's really just a talented musician with a bunch of quirky tools and his trusty 4-track, and though that usually translates to unlistenable by anyone other than the person creating it, Carrigan has wide-spread appeal. I am very much looking forward to seeing what cassette surfaces next and which wacky stitched-together world lies within that magnetic tape.






Jandek - Other End of Town (Corwood Industries 2006)

Jandek – Newcastle Sunday / Corwood Industries

I like to think about Jandek as the weeping clown of underground music. There is some definite novelty to the mysterious singer/songwriter from Houston, Texas who has spent nearly 30 years self-releasing self-recorded and self-packaged solo material from his own label, Corwood Industries. The novelty is not that he produces a parody of folk and blues music though; instead the odd idiosyncratic atonalities of his music make it somewhat disturbing. With the entire story at hand (please check out the Jandek on Corwood documentary for the whole legend), the acclaimed man behind the mystery, Sterling Richard Smith, does become this figure that you can't help but stare at. It should be funny to listen to, but his voice and songwriting is just so sad and demented; he should be this clownish figure, but the clown is just so depressing that you end up gawking at it's strangeness. And then, the more you stare and the more you really study the intricacies, the more an underlying beauty and individualism starts to appear. The sheer amount of material he has released (nearly 50 odd albums of continually differing sounds) completely on his own and the concurrent cult following is downright respectable making Smith this figurehead for DIY recording. The weeping clown is a figure that is shrouded in so many opposing emotions that you can't help but be sucked in by its hypnotic aura, which is the exact same draw of a Jandek recording.

Newcastle Sunday is the 44th release from Smith, the first double album and the second ever of his live performances, of which he has just started to do regularly, to be recorded for release. Captured during his concert at The Sage in Gateshead, England on May 22, 2005, the album is surprisingly rock-oriented, but we're obviously talking Jandek rock meaning atonal, amelodic and avant-garde. Joined by Richard Youngs on electric bass and Alex Neilson on drums, Smith careens through twelve songs of murky avant-blues-folk that would sound completely improvised if not for the accompanying players ability to stay somewhat in tow. Smith yelps, mumbles and shrieks odd and typically undecipherable lyrics in his Texas country drawl over his menacingly strummed electric guitar. Not being able to actually see what his fingers are doing makes it impossible to know if these songs were seriously composed or if it's just blind chord improvisations. I would actually lean toward the former, which makes the recording more impressive because in the midst of all that jerking reverberation there is an underlying method to the mayhem. Then again though, if you make it through the 85+ minutes of chugging avant-rock, I may actually be more impressed with you. Being as this album features a much more aggressive sound than the majority of the Jandek albums, I would actually start somewhere else if this is your first introduction to the peculiar singer/songwriter. In fact, I would suggest beginning with the documentary, Jandek on Corwood. You get the entire legend summed up to date without revealing any of the ongoing mystery along with a large helping of his recorded output over the last 30 years. Jandek is one of underground music's greatest personalities and worth your time to explore even if you do not dig the music on it's own.

Radio Show Playlist 3/14

6a:
1. Husker Du - Could You Be the One? - Warehouse: Songs & Stories (Warner 1987)
2. The Bon Mots - Under Wraps - Le Main Drag (Mellifluid 2002)
3. The (International) Noise Conspiracy - Smash It Up - Live at Oslo Jazz Festival (Alternative Tentacles 2007)
4. ZZZZ - Assisination Polka - Live on WLUW (2005)
5. Hint Hint - Harry's Ass is a Picnic - Sex is Everything EP (Cold Crush 2002)
6. (by request) LCD Soundsystem - Losing My Edge - LCD Soundsystem (DFA 2004)
7. SJ Esau - Wears the Control - Wrong Faced Cat Feed Collapse (Anticon 2007)
8. Kings of Convenience - Know-How - Riot on an Empty Street (Astralwerks 2004)
9. Caetano Veloso - Outro - Ce (Nonesuch 2006)
10. Low - Breaker - Drums and Guns (Sub Pop 2007)
11. The Fucking AM - Acoustico Gomez - Gold (Drag City 2004)

7a:
1. Stars of the Lid - A Meaningful Moment Through a Meaning(less) Process - Stars of the Lid and Their Refinement of the Decline (Kranky 2007)
2. Steve Reich - Pulses - Music for 18 Musicians (ECM 1978, composed 1976)
3. Kieran Hebden & Steve Reid - Our Time - Tongues (Domino 2007)
4. Secret Mommy - Diciduism - Plays (Ache 2007)
5. Sticks and Stones - 430 - Shed Grace (Thrill Jockey 2004)
6. Panda Bear - Bros - Person Pitch (Paw Tracks 2007)
7. Joshi - Apocalypso - A Tape Gone Leaves No Trace/Animal Faith (Leisure Class 2006)
8. The Stylistics - People Make the World Go Round - The Stylistics (Amherst 1971)
9. Radiants - My Sunshine Girl - Eccentric Soul: Twinight's Lunar Rotation (Numero Group 2007, originally 1971)
10. Letta Mbulu - What's Wrong with Groovin? (196?) copped from Souled on Music
11. Guy Pedersen - Les Copains de la Basse (196?) copped from Souled on Music

New Music: Zodiacs, Kavinsky, Der Teenage Panzerkorps

Zodiacs - Messin Up (Holy Mountain 2007)

Zodiacs - Gone / Holy Mountain

I've never been a fan of the desert. I could never connect with my grandfather's love of old west shoot-em-up's, and I always wondered why Spike didn't get just get smart and find himself a comfortable suburban doghouse. Growing up in South Carolina, the desert may as well have been outer space. There was no tangible connection, and despite never having been to the Himalayas either, there seemed to be something more to other settings, something alot less boring than ghost towns and bandits. Becoming a man, though, setting out on my own into the world, I finally got the appeal. One day you wake up fuzzyheaded and more than a little surprised to see you've been stranded deep inside this perilous game we call "life". Much like the loner anti-heroes of the Old West, you've gotta make your own way.

Riding in on hot summer wind, we have Zodiacs, three rough-n-tumble bunkhouse brawlers here to drink your beer and steal your women. These dudes also do time in Hush Arbors, Sunburned Hand, and WW&VV;, three key elements of that New Weird America trainwreck. I hate the hoopla over "movements, especially in today's fad-a-minute climate, but I do feel New Weird America is quantifiable, evident here in the burly sludge jams of Gone. Over the course of these four tracks, spanning forty-three minutes, Zodiacs extend a solid hand towards psychedelic rock oblivion. Its altogether a more focused affair than their other projects, showcasing the power of guitar, bass, drums, and most importantly, feedback, to possibly one day defend the Planet Earth from alien invasion.

"Born Free" is a nice welcome to the record. Thick guitar feedback pushing and pulling you, the slow-burning groove of the bassline cementing you in place. To listen closely to this song is like trying to keep the tides from changing with your bare hands. "Messin Up" starts off with a winding, patient guitar solo that would make Eric Clapton cry himself to sleep at night. Its got this outlaw blues feel, whether camping under the stars in 1889 or 1989, its connected to the timeless primal nature of the desert. "Get Off/Come Together" reminds me of Acid Mothers Temple at their single-minded best, its a proper psych rock freakout, taking no prisoners in its search for the sound of the cosmos. Its tough meat to gnaw, but rewarding to say the least. Play this for Burning Man's Weekend Warriors; see how soon they start to roam free, following the Flight of the Eagle as their souls have been set ablaze by the awesome power of Zodiacs.

So now I finally understand the appeal of scorched earth, how guys like Zodiacs can totally rule it. Gone is the aural equivalent of talking the talk AND walking the walk. Its like rolling up on a windswept town, the streets deserted and all the door locked. Its about all the maverick shit I used to think was hokey. In life you've gotta make power moves, take the girl and the money but always maintain a sense of honor.




Kavinsky - Dead Cruiser (Record Makers 2007)

Kavinsky - 1986 EP / Record Makers

Even critics have soft spots. I know I write about Finnish psych folk and other "difficult" music but I'm still buzzing from !!!'s Myth Takes. Those long nights keep on rolling, especially now that the weather down here in Cap City is conducive to porch life, the kind of mellowgold living when there's no excuse not to drink early and often.

So in celebratory spirit, announcing the arrival of spring and the breaking of winter's chains, here is a new EP from undead French playboy, Kavinsky. Raised from the dead by the current technicolor tide of French electro streaming from the Ed Banger and Kitsune camps, Kavinsky is here to bring the party 1986-style to all the potentially saddest nights out in the entire world. If reports are to be believed, Kavinsky bit it nearly twenty years ago in a gnarly wreck. Having totally destroyed his rare Ferrari, Kavinsky was nowhere to be found at the scene of the accident. Kept alive by the sheer power of the finest cocaine and a love for Giorgio Moroder, Kavinsky lived on, only to surface when the time was right. That time is now, post-trendy 80's worship be damned, 1986 is a synthtastic masterpiece.

Following up last year's deft but somewhat raw Teddy Boy EP, this new five-track offering is a gift from Jan Hammer himself, a blessing from the Great Keyboard in the sky, all white ties and 80's decadence. "Dead Cruiser" is bursting with laserbeam synth work, beefing up new wave explorations until the sheer size of sound can go toe-to-toe with the like of Justice. "Grand Canyon" could have scored the crowning film achievement of Jean-Claude Van Damme, a version of Bloodsport with the emotional depth of Hamlet. It seems like Sebastian is holding all the cards right now and he checks in with a sleek remix of Teddy Boy's "Testarossa Autodrive", speeding around hairpin turns in the glitz and glammer of Monaco.

Added this to your "hot night out!!" I-Tunes playlist. You may be partying in a mid-sized southern city but be assured the night will take on a posh vibe. No matter where you are, the jaguar instinct of fast cars and even faster living may usurp your soul. 1986 brings the brashly-boasted party of the mid-80's to the decidedly referential days of '07.




Der Teenage Panzerkorps - Nameless Diseases (Siltbreeze 2007)

Der Teenage Panzerkorps - Harmful Emotions / Siltbreeze

Seems like my reviews this week have been all about time machines, tripping the multiple contingencies of time and space. The music of Der Teenage Panzer Unit (Der TPK, for short) imagines if Himmler would have fronted a punk band. Its a smart maneuver given all the trappings that go with even the smallest hints of Nazism. Its amazing that this type of stunt can fly without mass outrage but such is the interpetive leeway given to art. It seems to me the band's image is more about the danger of nations and group-think mentality that, yes, even finds its way into punk rock.

Specific details about Der TPK are clouded. Context clues lead to an association with the psych-folk purveyors of Jeweled Antler Collective. In fact, enigmatic frontman, Edmund Xavier, is rumored to be Skygreen Leopard's member, Glenn Donaldson. This record's presence on the Siltbreeze label sheds further light on the band's intentions; Siltbreeze has a racism-free track record releasing crucial early material from the Dead C, Charalambides, Ashtray Navigations, and others. So, just to assure you one more time, this is far from Screwdriver. What Der TPK does is take the driving nihilism of early punk and twists it into a blackened war machine wrapped in an evil Third Reich aesthetic that we've all been drilled to despise.

Now that all the idealistic worries have been settled, I can tell you the reasons why you've gotta get your hands on Der TPK's first LP, limited to five-hundred copies on wax. Harmful Emotions is a top-notch punk record, way way smarter than anything today sporting spikes and studs. The recording is excellent, capable of fooling even the most astute punk vinyl fiend into thinking that he may have let one slip through the cracks. There's plenty of lo-fi racket; the murky recording convincing in its authenticity, and the disembodied Germanic vocal diatribes adding to the already heavy atmosphere. All tracks typically cut off around two minutes like any self-aware punk song should. Despite the band's best efforts to evoke tidy fascism, hints of kraut rock and black metal seep through. Okay...so maybe that is still a nod to Aryanism and I'm sorry for doubting how deep and wide this idea actually goes. This is one of the smartest "punk" records in ages, and without the internet's information-grabbing powers, Der TPK's aesthetic would be totally impenetrable.

New Music: Kinetic Stereokids, El-P, Panda Bear

Kinetic Stereokids - Mindf*ck (Overdraft 2007)

Kinetic Stereokids - Basement Kids / Overdraft

So today is it: My last official Spring Break. I guess I should be savoring it on the beaches of Panama City or partying it up in a hotel, tan and swole like everyone else on television makes it appear... But I'll take a few days at home to recuperate and decompress over a few too many Coronas on the white sands of San Padre Island. Or, as was the case last year, passing out on the lawn of Wagner College on Staten Island at 4AM. Pure class right there.

If I should ever foresee myself yearning for the beaches this week, I can do one of two things: Spend three hours driving down to Charleston to enjoy the splendor of a city that's known primarily for starting the American Civil War, or pop Kinetic Stereokids into my CD player. With fuel the way it is and with my income disproportionately insufficient, Basement Kids will have to do.

Which is okay, because these four young men out of Flint, Michigan are prepared for a larger audience. They've been together in one capacity or another since 1997, and apparently while everyone else in high school was covering Dave Matthews Band and 311, these guys were following the path down free-jazz improv rock. They've already got a handful of full-lengths and though Basement Kids is getting some national press, it sounds as delightfully DIY as any home recording could. The beachside "Mindf*ck" opens on a breezy note, swirling percussion taking you in and easing you into the following nine songs. The singing is endearing in its imperfections, underproduced and at times almost overmodulating. The music is serene and, though they take an unfortunate spoken-word detour on "Red Star," the rest of the album is a pretty solid expansion of territory Beck has been landscaping for the last decade. They may have opened for Explosions in the Sky and Wolf Eyes(?!) and The Secret Machines, but it's Hansen these guys seem to relate to most closely. The touches of scratching, snippets of conversation between songs, and acoustic-based folk-pop songs all contribute to the greater good: If that Information re-release this week just wasn't enough for you, this might help ease the pain. Ah, Spring Break. You've found your first last good soundtrack.













El-P - The Overly Dramatic Truth (Definitive Jux 2007)

El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead / Definitive Jux

Jaime Meline is another story. Indeed, I'll Sleep When You're Dead is a whole other story itself. For three years, we've waited to see what would happen with El-Producto in the wake of the renowned Collecting the Kid. But three years is a bad sign in the music industry acting on warp overdrive all the time: Whether you've been partying it up a little too much or you had a bad case of writer's block (or both), you tend to lose attention you might've garnered beforehand if you wait any longer. Unless you're Guns N' Roses, which some people astonishingly still care about.

In the case of El-P, all we can really gather from the new drop is that he's done a lot of listening. All the remixes and collaborations with Matthew Shipp in the world don't replace the beauty of a full-length, and the delivery here shows that it was worth the wait. Speaking of, a little pre-album publicity of the any-kind-is-a-good-kind variety can't hurt. You can do up the details yourself elsewhere, but here's basically how it went: El-P takes a picture with Diddy, a bunch of emails and misunderstandings are exchanged with Rawkus Records, I'll Sleep When You're Dead gets a little beef to go with its bite.

And boy does this album bite. Already noted for his aggressive delivery, El-P holds the line here and the results are remarkable. Right from the outset of the marvelously titled "Tasmanian Pain Coaster," El-P is delivering straight from the heart in a dense mess of lyrical eloquence that doesn't resonate in quite the same way when he's dissing Jarrett Myer in a MySpace blog. A notable aspect to this album that has already been pointed out is how he hates collaborations or features. But look at this laundry list of names: Aesop Rock, Cage, Cat Power, Matt Sweeney, Murs, Slug, both bro fros from The Mars Volta, Trent Reznor... And that's not even the full list. Obviously El got a little carried away with having folks stop by the studio to add their two cents, so maybe that's why the Brooklyn renaissance man's taken as long as he has. "The Overly Dramatic Truth" features Daryl Palumbo, but thankfully there's not much intruding by the Glassjaw/Head Automatica frontman beyond added keys. If you were like me last year and you opted to go north for Spring Break instead of head south, this is your soundtrack. Little doubt in my mind remains that El-P is, despite all the conflict and collaborations and clean edits (Sorry, adults), still at the top of his game. Ace.













Panda Bear - Search for Delicious (Paw Tracks 2007)

Panda Bear - Person Pitch / Paw Tracks

But for Panda Bear, an artist we've already featured here at Audiversity, it's back to the beaches for our final entry of the day. It seems like it's been less than a month since we last talked about Noah Lennox, and as memory serves correctly, not too long ago we were chatting up the Excepter split 12. Well, if you've had the pleasure of hearing the "Carrots" extended medley (or "Bros," even in remixed form by incestuous colleagues Terrestrial Tones) from said glorious piece of vinyl, you are in for a treat: Person Pitch is a magnificent folk album that has enough harmonies to make, well, The Beach Boys jealous. It was too easy.

And everything on this album sounds effortlessly natural to the point that it fits together perfectly. The shortest song on here ("Search for Delicious") is just over two minutes; the longest is "Good Girl" at 12:42. Nevermind the time disparities though, because it all comes together seamlessly in a way Animal Collective have become experts at over the years and a way in which Panda Bear personally has seen through on this solo effort. This vocals-as-instrument stuff works well yet again and though it feels dense at times, don't mind all that reverb and reversed percussion and bleeps and bloops and furiously strummed guitars: This is exactly the kind of Spring Break every freshman in university dreams of having, committed to tape... And with "Search for Delicious," it ends happily. No angry parents checking their credit card bills to see all the money you spent on "emergencies," no wicked hangovers from "beer" you bought in Cancún, no break-ups with girlfriends who were probably cheating on you back. All you come away with is a content smile on your face and a nice tan, you beautiful, beautiful man you.

Last time we brought up Panda Bear, we called it disco from outer-space, beyond the safety of the space shuttle. But it's time for recontextualization, a running theme in the music I've been listening to lately and something that speaks to the greater power of great music to be able to morph and change and adapt to particular, juxtaposing states of mind: Person Pitch isn't disco from outer-space. It's not even disco. It's beach music. Pure relaxation. The ultimate soundtrack to the open-windowed, late-night drive home at the end of the craziness that great Volkswagen commercials are made of. It's going to be a good Spring Break '07 for a lot of people; hopefully, these songs will provide a little balance to the usual club fare. It can't all be Red Jumpsuit Apparatus or Rich Boy.

Used-Bin Bargains: Weldon Irvine

Weldon Irvine - Watergate (Nodlew 1973)

Weldon Irvine – Time Capsule / Nodlew

Weldon Irvine is a hard figure to ignore when exploring underground/socially-conscious rap music in the 90s and the very beginning of the 00s. You may not see his name directly, though perhaps his rap moniker Master-Wel pops up on occasion, but he’s there. Snippets of his music have been flipped effortlessly by Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Boogie Down Productions on many occasions; that’s him playing organ on Black Star’s “Astronomy (8th Light)” and arranging Mos Def’s Black on Both Sides; he’s the one schooling the ambitious rappers like Q-Tip, Common and members of The Roots on the intricacies of keyboard playing; hell, just put on one of your four-hundred Madlib records and I can guarantee that at least one Irvine sample is quilted in there somewhere during each album. He’s one of the very rare multi-generational artists who has found his musical niche no matter the decade: studying jazz in the 60s, purveying fusion in the 70s, writing musicals in the 80s, schooling the rap crowd (and producing a couple records himself) in the 90s and being fully embraced before his untimely death in the early 00s. Yet, Irvine is far from a household name. In fact it took me two or three years after first stumbling upon his name to come across a CD that was not being imported at my expense. One fateful day last fall while digging through the plastic slip cases of Chicago’s Reckless Records, I finally located not one but three used Irvine CDs, two of which were still Japanese imports but not priced accordingly, and I was finally properly introduced to the soulful sounds of Mr. Irvine. Of the three I am now quite familiar with, 1973’s Time Capsule, 1974’s Cosmic Vortex (Justice Divine) and 1976’s Sinbad, I have decided to concentrate on Time Capsule because of its acclaimed reputation and that it happens to be my personal favorite as well.

Surprisingly with his musical context in mind, Weldon Irvine was raised in a very privileged setting. His parents were divorced at his birth, so he was brought up in Hampton, VA by his grandfather, a dean at Hampton Institute (later Hampton University), and his grandmother, a classically trained upright bass player. Even called a “Victorian upbringing” by Irvine himself, the childhood provided a life-long set of amiable manners and well-read knowledge, though in the 50s, he was exposed to the polar opposite environment when moved off campus. His teenage years living in the ghetto completely rounded out Irvine’s unique childhood revealing both sides of life, the privileged and the unappreciated, and what it took to survive in each. It’s a theme that would surface in his later music time and again, the urgency of struggle and oppression brought to life through thoroughly trained musicianship and all other possibilities of such a rare pairing. His late teens in the mid-60s were spent like most kids these days, in college to appease their parents, but actually immersed in one exciting counterculture or another; in Irvine’s case, the burgeoning scene of post-bop and spiritual jazz. A promising keyboardist, Irvine moved to New York and was immediately recruited by Kenny Dorham and Joe Henderson for their big band where he spent the next three years honing his craft. In 1968, he auditioned for Nina Simone’s open-call for an organist to tour with her new ensemble. Not only did he get the gig, but he did it with his very first chord at which point Ms. Simone proclaimed he had perfect pitch and eventually brought him on not only as an organist, but the bandleader, arranger, road manager and co-writer as well. Irvine spent the next three years with Simone during which he penned an unfathomable amount of songs including his most famous composition, “To Be Young, Gifted, and Black” inspired by Lorraine Hansberry’s play of the same name.

In the early 70s, Weldon Irvine ventured out on his own forming a 17-piece group whose sound is typically categorized as jazz-funk or fusion but incorporated elements of soul, R&B;, blues, gospel, pop, Latin and rock as well. The fusion tag I especially hesitate on, though I can easily see why it’s so often used. Irvine typically played the electric piano and as the years went on incorporated more and more buoyant bass lines and synthetic characteristics, so it’s hard not to drop that vague tag. His early albums are decisively jazz-funk though; think a combination of Stevie Wonder, Alice Coltrane, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson and Charles Mingus. His themes have always been that of political and social change as well as deep spirituality and he often used student musicians in his band. 1972 saw Irvine’s first solo album, Liberated Brother on his own label Nodlew (look at it in a mirror), whose rampant style meshes, political and philosophical undertones and funky, electric sound would define his recordings from here on out.

This finally gets us to 1973’s Time Capsule, his last before jumping from his own imprint to RCA. Usually heralded as the defining album in Irvine’s career, Capsule finds the perfect equilibrium for all of his many, many influences and distinguishing musical elements, not to mention characteristics of genres yet to come, especially rap. Political, spiritual, funky, grooving, buoyant, sprawling, infectious, challenging and masterfully arranged and played, it’s an album that really takes on the mindset of 1973’s counterculture. Irvine mostly sticks to his keyboards whether it is the piano, acoustic and electric, organ or melodica, as well as adding occasional lyrical content. The record opens with a poem called “I Am” by Charlotte Cook, which is revisited again later in the album, discussing the spirits of man over Irvine’s electric piano accentuations. “Feelin’ Mellow” follows setting the stage for the groovy vibe of the album; interestingly enough, Irvine decides to save the more potent political shout-outs for later and begins with a friendly, out-reaching hand. He then pens an ode to the lady with “Soul Sisters,” a Jimmy Smith-derived soul-funk number with an outstanding trumpet solo care of Jimmy Owens. “Déjà vu” splits the record with nine-and-a-half minutes of Latin-jazz-leaning electric-funk that screams for sampling. It also displays Irvine’s poetic fortitude as he tries to unite all the spiritual people of the world no matter your actual religion with a shared interest in peace. “Watergate” is probably the most striking song though with it’s shuffling, Stevie Wonder-like backdrop for what Irvine calls a “kind of group free style.” Members of the band take turns improvising typically humorous lines of political observations that eventually ends with a call for togetherness. “Spontaneous Interaction” shows off Irvine’s ability to seamlessly interweave genres as he combines a loose, spacey psychedelia and an impressive walking bop bass line. After revisiting the “I Am” poem, which you know already if you’ve spent any time with Madlib, the album closes with “Bananas,” the shortest instrumental of the record that actually leaves you with a feeling of incompleteness. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or not, but it always sends me for either the repeat button or another album wanting to listen to more.

Weldon Irvine had a string of well-received albums through the rest of the 70s, though they didn’t produce the sales figures a major label like RCA expects. He was released from the label in 1976 at which point he almost left the music industry to concentrate on writing musicals. Throughout the 80s more than 20 of his plays were shown at The Billie Holiday Theatre in New York including Young, Gifted and Broke, The Vampire and the Dentist, The Will and Keep It Real. Hip-hop was sprouting at the same time, and Irvine was an active participant in it from the beginning. He encouraged producers to sample his back-catalogue, trained aspiring rappers to write their own music, admired groundbreaking artists like the Wu-Tang Clan and Eric B. & Rakim, pushed the socially conscious rappers to speak their minds and even rhymed a little himself. Also during the 90s, he recorded a few hip-hop-inspired albums for indie labels and rapped under the alias Master Wel while providing arrangements for rappers he appreciated like Mos Def, Common and Q-Tip. Tragically though, Irvine committed suicide on April 9th, 2002 at just 58 years old for reasons unknown. It’s an incredibly sad ending for an amazingly inventive and groundbreaking artist who was known as much for his amiability as his musicianship.

Singleversity #1

We at Audiversity have been toying with a few ideas to mix things up a bit without losing our straight-ahead ethos of music reviews. Bigger things in bigger ways are the stuff of bar chats over cold brews, but for now we have decided to devote Saturdays to the glory of literary limitation. This new aspect gives us a chance to comment on videos or music that do not fit into either the New Release of Essential Classic columns, but it's a place where we can still have a little fun. In celebration of this being Post #144, we each picked a song or video of our choice and commented on it using exactly 144 words. There are no restrictions on the music chosen and we are given full creative freedom for literary style and approach. So, in the name of all things random, we proudly present:



Audiversity’s weekly column on random music in exactly 144 words.

(Ed. - Originally this was called Threeversity, but in the spirit of simplicity we've decided to retroactively relabel all of these posts. The content remains unchanged.)

MA:
(#144 of a random playlist generated from my ever-changing database of 12,500+ songs)



I decided to approach the column with a hearty devotion to the random selection of music, perhaps more so than Patrick or Jordan as my overhead description explains. Drum-roll please. This week’s random selection is… Sonic Youth’s "Stones" from their excellent 2004 album Sonic Nurse. I am a big fan of latter day Youth, even if I end up getting flogged every time I mention to another music fan that I prefer the later albums to their early output. I have immense respect for the groundbreaking work the Youth produced in the 80s, I just really dig the refined groove of their last couple albums. OUCH! I mean Goo is better… though I think it sounds a bit aged… OW! OOF! Er, Daydream Nation is genius… OH! EEE! [sobbing in pain] “Teen Age Riot” for life [sniffle sob] “Teen Age Riot” for life…

PM:



An Ode to William Basinski in Slant Grossblank (Or, Pretentious)

I’ve taken a bit of “poetic license” (bad pun) with the Grossblank:
12 syllables a line is 12 words here… Iambic hexameter be damned.
The first nine lines set up a “problem,” the final three comment.
Problem: Ill-fitting line-breaks, 6AM local, no iTunes. Solution: William Basinski.
But it can’t be that simple. His “Disintegration Loops 1.3” was fate,
a 12-minute piece that soothes and repeats as it falls apart.
You may know his Brooklyn story, 9/11, how it was so ironic
for it all to be happening outside his apartment as he watched,
his four-part master work copped from aged 80s tapes totally recontextualized…
But did you know that Basinski’s ambient bits gently coax me awake
in another form of recontexualization? There’s dark and light to every story,
but for me, Basinski is both: The dark of another day. (Emo?)

JR:



Call it a conflict between nature and nurture, but I used to despise Vulcans. That is until I painted a fluorescent "NO!" on the tabula rasa. It goes on. I'd argue Vulcanism isn't an evolutionary jump, pure logic is equally deplorable. Musical Vulcans tend to gravitate towards austerity as well; finding more merit in screeching noise than plaintive ballads. Its a different lense, for sure, and maybe I've reached a breaking point, flute solos are sounding mighty good right now, especially when done by dimension-tripping voyagers from the late 60's. Watch German kraut/prog masters, Embryo, get down with the Karnataka College of Percussion in Bangalore. These Germans break out the marimba and the oud before it was even postmodern being down with third-world music. This jam sesh is brought on by the perspective only articulated by psychedelic drugs or advanced intelligence.

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Oh! We're also featured in an article on the second page of this weekend's "Pursuits" section of the Wall Street Journal, which is pretty mind-boggling in its own right... But in honor of opinionated disagreement, not quite the summation we were hoping for. We very very very much appreciate the attention, but it's not totally accurate saying we cover "rare" music. We concentrate on new releases that are sometimes overlooked by the mass public and sometimes not. In the simplist terms possible, it's the music we enjoy. Whether it's something as popular and obvious as LCD Soundsystem or seldom-heard music from the Western Sahara, it's music that moves us enough to spend time writing about it and that we feel deserves your attention as well. We are obviously not breaking any new ground or kidding ourselves as important tastemakers; we are simply three guys who enjoy music and writing, and since we have the opportunity to be exposed to so much amazing new music, we feel we should share the experience with you. And don't worry: The irony of the quotation in the article is not lost on us.

New Music: The (International) Noise Conspiracy, 8yone, Boba Fettt

The (International) Noise Conspiracy - Bigger Cages Longer Chains (Alternative Tentacles 2007)

The (International) Noise Conspiracy - Live at Oslo Jazz Festival / Alternative Tentacles

Like Michael, I don't have much of a musical ear and I've always been pretty jealous of those who do. I've played recorder, piano and a little xylophone here and there, even remixed a song or two... But with even less musical talent and an ability to read about as much sheet music as David Blunkett, music is such an intangible for me that I sometimes wonder what kind of nerve I have writing about it so much. From what I've gathered over the years, garage is kind of like the Blunkett of rock: You have to not know how to play an instrument to be in a band.

The past decade has changed that, of course. Popular taste and professionalism, what a fickle thing. I can't remember the last time I listened to The (International) Noise Conspiracy; maybe it was in early 2002 when MTV2 still played videos stateside and the world still felt sorry for us. Boy, those were the days. The White Stripes, The Hives vs. The Vines, The Strokes... Yeah man. Garage. Awesome.

But times, like tastes, change dramatically almost by the hour now. It's tough to imagine anything from 2001 being cool anymore (Amnesiac excepted... maybe). But if there's one genre that has stood the test of time, it's garage. So why bother posting on what otherwise must be a fairly standard T(I)NC album that brings no new cards to the table but continues to allow Dennis Lyxzén his pre-Lost Patrol Band indulgences. Wait, sorry, post-Refused. Who cares either way?

Forget the "Sexiest Man in Sweden" award for a minute, though. Maybe it's time to re-think what we know about The (International) Noise Conspiracy. Live at Oslo Jazz Festival is a totally different album from prior efforts and, unless you already knew what the 80-concert, week-long affair was all about, a bit of a surprise to boot. This showcases just a brief segment of that from 2002, but in ten songs Lyxzén and the other four members of the group - collaborating with saxophonist Jonas Kullhammar (This name begs for too many bad jokes) and Fender Rhodes maestro Sven-Eric Dahlberg - retread aged terrain with a fresh perspective that might actually appeal to jazz, funk and garage connossieurs alike. I mean, dig that sax on "Bigger Cages Longer Chains": It's like a whole other group when you add just a saxophone to their sound. The jazzier feel loosens up what was already a pretty good band at what was arguably the top of their game in the summer of '02. In retrospect, it could be argued this performance marks the end of their Indian summer, but I'm not so sure: Everything up to the stirring renditions of "Born Into a Mess" and "Bodyheat" featured here might've just been the preparation. If there was any doubt that The (International) Noise Conspiracy might've been just merely good at one point, Live at Oslo Jazz Festival counters with a defiant statement that they were better than any mediocre contemporary that got featured on more Spin covers and Make Out Club profiles per capita than these five Swedish idealists with a penchant for playing politically charged garage-punk. 2002? A pretty good year.












8yone - Glacial Sunburn (Boltfish 2007)

8yone - Keymotion / Boltfish

And wasn't burning CD-Rs for yourself and your friends so exciting in those days? Boy, I sure do love rhetorical questions. Someday I'll kick the habit, but not before listening to 8yone's latest 3" CD-R. You read that right: Dude just made a four-track EP on three inches of plastic. Well, 1 1/2 if we're talking diameter here. Wait, is that right? I'm so ashamed. I hate math. Point is, songs are good.

We tend to get wrapped up in the intangibles of music so often here at Audiversity partly because we're not musicians. In a way, we're all just kind of passionate music listeners with an above-average grasp on the English language and our ability to communicate what we feel because that's really all music criticism is. Here's a record, here's what I think (rather than what might be objectively true, which may double as a reason for my opinion), hopefully you'll see my side of the story. Ultimately, very little in the sound of music is inherent fact: You can impress somebody with your demonstration of mixophrygian scales, but most people don't know what those are and couldn't care less if you used them in a song. Does it have a beat? Does it take me to a particular moment in my life that I want to remember? Does it make me feel something? These are the questions that separate the technically great from the truly great.

I don't know a whole lot about Matthias Gorf and his methods for creating the music he does; my guess is that he probably has a laptop somewhere in his dwellings of what's known as "the green heart" of Germany in Thuringia. I point this out because his music, demonstrated best on "Glacial Sunburn," sounds like something meant for the countryside. This is IDM or electro or whatever meant for remote parts of northern Europe. Like Hannu or Múm, you just don't expect to hear this coming out of the Mediterranean or Australia; in a way, it's the perfect post-Ibiza come-down. Pop it on as you hit the sack and contemplate the wild time you had fighting the soap suds or swimming in the champagne or whatever it is Ibiza people do these days. If it's not the afterparty, it's the after-hours of a remote German vineyard visited by UFOs and the only people that know about it are Gorf and the listener. The synth stabs shimmer in this song like flickering lights in a poor-quality video. It's distant, it's alien, it's still beautiful and approachable and warm and wait a minute is that alien putting a probe in me and get me out! And yet the beat remains impenetrable, totally steadfast and resolute in its subdued but ever-steady thumping. Maybe all of those descriptions are wrong, after all. Gorf probably had it right the first time: This is what glacial sunburn sounds like, alright. Feels good to me.














Boba Fettt - Wir Ham Alles (feat. Fuat) (No Peanuts 2007)

Boba Fettt - Meister des Universums / No Peanuts

Feeling good and sounding good don't always have to correlate, of course. Some pretty vulgar examples come to mind, but I'll play with the kids on this one and just go with the classic pizza + ice cream theorem. West Berliner Boba Fettt rapping over some pretty disparate beats in his native tongue doesn't sound particularly appealing either, but one listen to Meister des Universums will have you speak-singing a different tune, in another language. With all of those throaty Slavicisms German has, it doesn't inherently sound as smooth or as affable as the Romantic languages, French, Italian, Portuguese, the "languages of love" as it were. But in the right context, German can be used for good: You get all your rolling R's down in Bavaria or Austria and, when it comes to technology or machinery, nothing says "authority" like yelling out "Ich schreie alleine nachts!" (which loosely translates to "I cry alone at night!" but no one will ever know)

Another fine example of German put to good use is this latest release from the Berlin DJ. Using a variety of beats pulled from contemporary chart-topping rap and underground soul-sampling more common to the collegiate in us all, Boba Fettt (who intentionally has a third 'T' on the end) spends 16 songs treading ground that's not necessarily new to listeners in terms of music; instead, his appearances and featured guests (Fuat here on "Wir Ham Alles," or "We Have Everything") highlight the gruff nature of European hip-hop culture in the urbs. It's a remarkable display of mic competence and, even though I only understand about 1/4 of what he's saying (It's been years since I've taken German properly), my guess is that he's walking all over me with some pretty coy jibes.

In fact, there's one thing that music can't always inherently do that foreign languages almost always can: Make you feel stupid and ashamed for not knowing about it more. I'll say this: Boba Fettt doesn't scare me nearly as much as he would've if I were an average music listener partly because I spent the majority of my high school years learning it. So yeah, like I was saying: 2002? A pretty good year.

New Music: Stars of the Lid, Lusine, Schneider TM

Stars of the Lid - The Evil That Never Arrived (Kranky 2007)

Stars of the Lid – Stars of the Lid and Their Refinement of the Decline / Kranky

Sadly, I do not have a musical ear, though it’s not because I cannot read, play or understand music, quite the contrary in fact. I was always the head of my section while playing the saxophone through my pre-college years (at which point I gave it up), I can read music, have taken numerous theory classes throughout my entire education, studied sound design, was taught audio production by an incredible mathematician, can and have recorded, produced, mixed, remixed and pieced together samples, but I just do not have that natural musical talent. I cannot improvise, cannot resolve a chord without painstakingly mucking my way through the rules of theory, cannot hear a simple ditty and easily recreate it, and could not come up with an original melody to save my life. However, thanks to my education, I can listen to a piece of music and mentally see the wavelengths it creates, and, mostly because of the reasons of can’t I just listed, appreciate music as an emotion and almost as a mystical entity. I actually very well may have the polar opposite of perfect pitch, so when music moves me, I don’t question "how technically" but "how emotionally." Stars of the Lid moves me.

It’s been six years since the duo of Adam Wiltzie and Brian McBride released an album together. Their last one, The Tired Sounds of Stars of the Lid, garnished many a positive review for their continued evolution of ambient post-classical music, which has developed exponentially from the found-sound compositions of 1995’s Music for Nitrous Oxide to the patient enveloping of tender harmonies found on Stars of the Lid and Their Refinement of the Decline.

As I was rambling about earlier, the specific chord progressions and harmonic resolutions Wiltzie and McBride utilize may and I’m betting does impress your everyday musical theorist, but to me they are as alien as Martian terrain. I do, however, think that we both see a very similar visual representation of the gentle swelling of the pulsing harmonic interaction that encapsulates Their Refinement of the Decline. The theorist sees an elegant spread of strategically layered whole notes all strung together with numerous overarching and overlapping ties creating almost a gentle sea of musical composition while I see rolling foothills of intermingling and gracefully curving wavelengths producing that same sea-like visual representation of the music. We both, as well as any other listener with effectible emotion, can easily grasp and appreciate the elegant sophistication of the deceptively simple compositions of the Lid. Basically, it’s like Reich on benzodiazepines. Utilizing a small ensemble of stings, horns and even a children’s choir, Wiltzie and McBride knead out two hours of gorgeous tones and reflective harmonies creating music that can make you stare hypnotically into space and completely shut down mentally for a few precious minutes to just feel the music. I’m guessing it’s not too far from the aural equivalent of using steady meditation to reach your state of unconscious.

The associations made with Stars of the Lid are usually film composers like Zbignlew Presiner or minimalists like Arvo Pärt, partly because there are very few contemporary musicians making such ambitious and timeless music and partly because Their Refinement of the Decline sounds like more of an aural accompaniment in our vastly visual modern world. This is not necessarily a bad thing, I certainly wouldn’t mind it as a soundtrack to my biopic, but the truth is most kids rarely can sit through an EP and the Lid are over here giving you two hours of gentle music, you do the math. If you do have the patience though, Stars of the Lid and Their Refinement of the Decline is one of the most rewarding and soothing pieces of music you’ll ever hear.

Oh! And it’s Kranky 100! Long live challenging music.






Lusine - Drip (Apparat Remix) (Ghostly International 2007)

Lusine – Podgelism / Ghostly International

Though knocking around the experimental techno scene since the late 90s including putting out material on Isophlux, !K7, Hymen and Delikatessen, Jeff McIlwain's stock didn't really skyrocket until signing on with Detroit's electronica label extraordinaire Ghostly International in 2003. His subsequent album, Serial Hodgepodge, further embellished on the colorful IDM he established with his impressive pre-Ghostly catalog and spread the Lusine moniker to eager headphones around the world. Lying on the SMM side of the Pac Man-copped logo, the Seattle-based producer sits comfortably beside his label-mates with his ability to spin soothing weaves of wintry downtempo, somber micro-house or even, as his collaboration with David Wingo showed on Idol Tryouts Two, experimental acoustica. For many though, Ghostly means one thing: trippy dance music a la Matthew Dear, so McIlwain is getting the royal remix treatment with Podgelism. No longer just for contemplating or reflection, Lusine is now rocking your favorite hip dance club.

Pulling source material mostly from 2004’s Serial Hodgepodge, Ghostly lined-up an impressive set of top-notch remixers including their very own micro-house icon Matthew Dear and select artists from BPitch Control, Plug Research and Kompakt among others to reshape the Lusine sound. If you are a DJ and looking for the more club-oriented tracks, you very well may want to start with the Select Remixes 12” which includes the four most DJ-friendly cuts. Kicking off the wax is the shifty industrial shuffle of “The Stop” care of the Wighnomy Brothers’ Robag Wruhme, which may pack the most jerky rhythms but I’ll bet for namesake alone, most people will be jumping the needle directly to A2 where Apparat gives “Drip” a new spin. Fresh off his world-renown collaboration with Bpitch head Ellen Allien (2006’s Orchestra of Bubbles), Sascha Ring reassembles “Drip” with oddly programmed snare washes and skittering synths which is definitely a highlight of the 12” and album, but would be tough to dance to (at least for me). The B-side features the loose micro-techno of “Make It Easy” from John Tejada as well as Lawrence’s remix of “Everything Under the Sun” which attacks with a similar approach, but more dubbed-out and synthy.

The rest of the eleven remixes can be found on the full-length which features three re-imaginations by Lusine himself as well as choice cuts from Matthew Dear, Cepia, Deru and Dimbiman. Dear does his usual thing and completely spins “Flat” in a direction far from the original. He builds from a revolving sample and crunchy percussion snippets into a thumping, swirling, trippy underground club number further proving his incredible inventiveness. Label-mate Cepia and Dimbiman both take on the very same track; the former embellishing with intricate polyrhythms and scattering glitch and the latter (who teams up with Cabanne) adds an infectious drum-machine pulse and delicate peeks at electric guitar and bass. Podgelism is definitely an album aimed toward the Ghostly crowd, but will as easily inspire spins from club and radio DJs from around the world. It’s quality experimental techno from the very artists paving the way of the genre while getting to utilize inventive source material in it’s own right.







Schneider TM - Caplets (City Slang 2006)

Schneider TM – Skoda Mluvit / City Slang

When ambient or electro- pop (depending on which genre tag you prefer) began to gain momentum in the late 90s, artists like Air, Stereolab and Broadcast were producing albums based on inventive synthetic textures and infectious keyboard melodies. The key word here is albums. This was back when zines or college radio was the only exposure an independent album would get; there was no need for a single when basically your only option was to get judged on the whole. Well obviously times have changed with the ballooning of the blogosphere, and especially aggregators like HypeMachine, forcing independent music to enter back into the world of drawing-in singles for the first time since 7 inches were popular. The power of a few top quality singles can all of a sudden boost you to the top of the indie hierarchy, and with the genre at hand, The Postal Service are the perfect example. A couple of exemplary tracks with a few decent fillers and you will be riding high for at least a few years as the ripples slowly find their way to the outer edges of the pond of popularity. In turn, albums like Schneider TM’s third full-length, Skoda Mluvit, begin to sound like a bunch of stringed together singles rather than a cohesive album.

Germany’s Dirk Dresselhaus was not too far behind the electro-pop curve coming to recognition in 1998 with Moist that garnished descriptions like a “less frenetic Mouse on Mars.” His only other full-length album in the 10-year existence of the Schneider TM moniker was 2002’s Zoomer on Mute, which once again received praise for mixing pop music with glitchy programming. Maybe because it’s now been 15 years since the genre really took off, Dresselhaus’ latest just doesn’t seem as impressive as his earlier works. The biggest change is the wide inclusion of vocals, which I think distracts from his excellent bubbling arrangements. Lying somewhere in the vicinity of The Go Find and Erlend Øye, the vocals aren’t bad, but lack the individualist quality that would really differentiate himself from the ever-expanding crowd. His productions on the other hand do the best to do just that as Dresselhaus utilizes a lot of the typical current electro-pop instrumentation but expounds upon it tenfold. The “tools” listed in the liner notes look to be at least 60-deep ranging from fender mustang and French horn to ilpo’s typewriter and wooden sticks. He easily hopscotches from quirky pop (“Pac Man/Shopping Cart”) to Mouse on Mars-ish industrial-glitch (“S’kcorratiug”) to European pop-hop (“The Blacksmith”) to electro-funk (“A Ride”) to off-center avant-pop (“Caplets”) with confidence and aptitude, but can’t seem to really pave out any sound that hasn’t been explored many times before. And as I mentioned earlier, about half the tracks could find it’s way into the HypeMachine popular list if enjoyed by a strategic number of blogs because they are quality and infectious songs, but does that make a good album? It leaves me on the fence more than anything, because while definitely an enjoyable listen, it sounds too middling electro-pop, too Morr Music. I think the genre needs to be pushed in a new direction to sound fresh again, and while Dresselhaus certainly has the skills to do it, Skoda Mluvit is just not that album because it’s hard to hear as an album. I foressee a lot of this conversation:
guy1 - “hey! This mp3 is really catchy!”
guy2 – “really? Yea, it’s not bad! Are there any more songs posted?”
guy1 – “naw, just this one.”
guy2 – “oh well. Hey! Look at this new band Gorilla vs Bear just posted!”

New Music: Domestic Blend Vol. 1, Cyann & Ben

You know how some days you just feel like taking a step back and rocking out? Like just putting on a totally sweet record of yours and letting it mercilessly assault your ears? Today was that kind of day for me. Here's a thorough list of what I did, not necessarily in order of importance:

1. Surfed the Internet when I should've been doing work
2. Listened to These Arms Are Snakes

But I came home this evening and, somewhere around the ninth time through "Your Pearly Whites," I decided I'd gotten my fill of post-hardcore (...for today). I needed something a little calmer, a little more contemplative, a little less abrasive. Also, I need two full albums worth of material to do this job.













Ill Padre - Thief of Tranquility (Inner Current 2007)

Akello Uchenna - Been So Good (Inner Current 2007)

Various Artists - Domestic Blend Vol. 1 / Inner Current

That's when Inner Current slipped in almost unnoticed (or maybe my hearing is just that bad now). Everyday we the good music-lovers are bombarded with new names dropped by what must be some sort of 24-hour news service streaming from Brooklyn: If it's not the latest signing by somebody affiliated with the great resurgence of "indie-rock," it's 50 Cent and all of his cronies in a beef with one talentless hack or another. As best I can tell, that's pretty unfair. There's a lot happening in Brooklyn right now that is hip-hop and, more importantly, that isn't associated with the DFA that deserves to be highlighted.

I recently read over at the Brooklyn Record that the burrough's hip-hop guiding lights are going by the wayside. The argument in short is that there's nothing new worth looking at. For those only concerned with Top 40 rap tripe, that may be true... But sometimes you have to dig a little deeper into your own neighborhood to find the good stuff. It's like a record store with the best vinyl as the dustiest, upside down, and misplaced in the back. It's there, you just have to have the energy to keeping digging.

You shouldn't have to go digging too far for Inner Current, though. The two guys behind it - Rick Diaz Granados and Inoel Miranda in case you're checking up on your neighbors - only just got this thing off the ground in 2005. And to be even more frank, Domestic Blend Vol. 1 has actually been out and about in one form or another since last August or something, so this isn't even really that new for anybody who's had their ears to the ground. I think it's important to highlight this label though, because in the wake of DJ Shadow's disappointing The Outsider last year, I found a lot of people were looking for some kind of replacement to fill in the gaps while RJD2 prepares himself for a critical backlash with The Third Hand and Madlib (apparently) continues his work on the third part of the Beat Konducta series. Basically: Instrumental hip-hop needs some positives right now, because '06 was ugly and 2007 doesn't look much better.

Look no further: As Ill Padre's "Thief of Tranquility" and Akello Uchenna's "Been So Good" aptly demonstrate, the collection of artists for Inner Current (11 strong at the moment and including the likes of Tundra and Glen Porter) all take a great interest in Mo' Wax and Ninja Tune's finest moments with a pinch of Blue Note for good measure. In other words, a healthy helping of hip-hop, a dash of dub and downtempo, a jiggle or two of jazz: This is right up there with the best spinners at the moment and smooth as silk. At 18 songs and featuring some really solid beats I was starting to feel fresh out of, Domestic Blend Vol. 1 is a perfect introduction for your special lady to your, um, crib. Sounds horribly awkward, but rest assured that these tracks have all been laid out smoother than you could ever hope to lay your lady. Hey, there are some things even Tsunchoo can't fix. You're on your own.













Cyann & Ben - Sunny Morning (Ever 2007)

Cyann & Ben - Sweet Beliefs / Ever

Cyann & Ben was the other musical muse I felt really hit me in the right way for said occasion. Heavily scrutinzed for a variety of reasons (almost all of which stem from their involvement with M83 and the recent collapse of Gooom), the French quartet have already endured most of the publicity that might've been drummed up either for or against Sweet Beliefs because it came out last October in Europe. But look, you know how it is: We're only human. We can't cover every band all the time or else we'd actually either look like professionals or look like we have no real lives, and who wants that in a blog right? So I merrily plug away at the sounds that literally sweep you off your feet on "Words" to open up the nine-song affair. Such a simple title, isn't it? Almost totally understated, "Words" winds up with sounding awfully spiritualized by the end of its near-five minutes. This isn't quite as forthcoming as their two previous albums, but as a direct result... Big statement alert! It could be their best yet. Oh snap, I did go there.

And it looks like I walked into territory hitherto unknown. In my time-killing on the Internet today, I read a ton of stuff on how Sweet Beliefs is "hard to get into, but eventually rewarding." Or something like that. Uh, what? Were these people listening to the same glorious album I was? Maybe they had their "I'm a critic" caps on instead of their "I need a break from These Arms Are Snakes" caps. As ever, take this from one guy with a PC and an opinion... But this felt like a glass slipper the first time I listened to it all the way through and its beauty is both clearly stated and effective all the same. Cyann & Ben are content to play the folk card a little more heavily, but that's nothing to balk at. Sometimes with albums that gradually unfold as this does so brilliantly, it's better to start off slowly with a plucked acoustic six-string and work your way deep into the recesses of otherworldly white noise.

Cleverly constructed songs, all of these swirling sounds suck you in slowly and you soon find yourself in a zen-like state that's normally reserved for shoegazers; the looping melody of the awesome seven-minute "Sunny Morning" or the abbreviated melange of distortion that is "Let it Play" graphically illustrate what I'm thinking of here. Hear those echoing keys and distant guitars. The arrival of morning on "In Union With..." has rarely been soundtracked more appropriately. Space travel, a frequent favorite musical metaphor of mine, once again re-enters via 60s French pop (or Stereolab?) on "Guilty," but it's so subtle you never really notice. There's no kitsch and there's not really any Can to speak of either. It's just barely there so that you know this isn't an album conjured up in the midst of a sunny day in Glasgow.

A lot of talk in recent times surrounding France has been all about the dirty electro of Ed Banger or the wonderful world of suburban hip-hop that took center-stage following riots in late '05 and on into last year. It's justified, of course, but rarely does anyone mention French post-rock... And maybe there's a reason for that. Cyann & Ben aren't it. This is one of the most engaging records of the year for me, and I'm not even on my These Arms Are Snakes adrenaline rush anymore. I've settled down; alongside a couple of clever guys from Brooklyn, Cyann & Ben helped me get there. Like M83, Cyann & Ben are best listened to in full and when you're feeling totally finished. Some music was simply meant to lift the spirits of the common man. While critics go about postulating on the implications of this deal where they'll soundtrack "THX-1180" at some film festival, those of us just trying to get by with our nine-to-fivers might find our own answers between the lines. Inner Current and Cyann & Ben give you at least temporary respite from the chaos of daily life These Arms Are Snakes are out to perpetuate. End your pathos here, friend. You'll be glad you did.

Radio Show Playlist 3/07

6a:
1. The Velvet Underground - Ocean - Live 1969 with Lou Reed (PolyGram 1988)
2. The Besnard Lakes - For Agent 13 - The Besnard Lakes are the Dark Horse (Jagjaguwar 2007)
3. Bonobo - Transmission 94 (Parts 1 & 2) - Days to Come (Ninja Tune 2006)
4. Baja - Nona's Theme - Maps/Systemalheur (Stilll 2006)
5. Gato Barbieri - India - Latino America (Impulse! 1973)
6. Anga - A Love Supreme - Echu Mingua (Nonesuch 2007)
7. Antibalas - Hilo - Security (Anti- 2007)
8. Hallelujah Chicken Run Band - Mwana Wamai Dada Naya - Golden Afrique Vol. 3 (Network 2006)
9. Eddy Senay - Ain't No Sunshine - Hot Thang (Sussex 1972)

7a:
1. The Eternals - This Mix is So Bizarre - Heavy International (Aesthetics 2007)
2. Group Doueh - Cheyla Ya Haiunne - Guitar Music from the Western Sahara (Sublime Frequencies 2007)
3. SJ Esau - All Agog - Wrong Faced Cat Feed Collapse (Anticon 2007)
4. Fruit Bats - A Bit of Wind - Mouthfuls (Sub Pop 2003)
5. On!Air!Library! - Pass the Mic pt. 2 - Split EP with The Album Leaf (Arena Rock 2003)
6. Broadcast - Still Feels Like Tears - Pendulum EP (WARP 2003)
7. Low - Belarus - Drums & Guns (Sub Pop 2007)
8. Papercuts - Summer Long - Can't Go Back (Gnomonsong 2007)
9. Califone - The Orchids - Roots & Crowns (Thrill Jockey 2006)
10. Scott Walker - Boy Child - Scott 4 (Mercury 1969)
11. Archie Whitewater - Cross Country - Archie Whitewater (Cadet Concept 1970)
12. Bob & Gene - Gotta Find a Way - If This World Were Mine... (originally 196?, Daptone 2007)
13. Herbie Mann - Yardbird Suite - Yardbird Suite (Savoy 1957)

New Music: Low, Group Doueh, Pole

Low - Breaker (Sub Pop 2007)

Low – Drums and Guns / Sub Pop

From what I can tell (using my very amateur art interpretation skills), Bridget Riversmith’s full painting, which is cropped on the inside cover of Low’s latest album, Drums and Guns, features a ring of streaming birds entering the ears of a sheep-like creature with a wolf’s face. Painted with chalky grey gouache, it’s austere in its minimalism; it’s deceptively simple thanks to fine craftsmanship and shrouded with curiosity leaving the viewer to decide on his or her own context. You either get wonderfully lost in the hypnotic, grey landscape or moved by its odd content, and it acts as a pretty good visual representation of Low’s music: minimal, tenderly and masterfully constructed, organic yet odd, draped with a mysterious but strongly felt emotion, pleasantly awkward and undeniably hypnotic.

Alan Sparhawk, Mimi Parker and their latest bass player, Matt Livingston, have been creating this type of slow-burning music for nearly 15 years now, so I seriously doubt that my descriptions are anywhere near original, but it’s just something that seems appropriate when talking about this band. Inspired as an antithesis to the crunchy grunge scene that ravaged the early 90s, Low have stayed pretty much completely devoted to their minimalist sound, though their jump to Sub Pop a few years back and working with producer Dave Fridmann (Flaming Lips, Mogwai, Sleater-Kinney) has resulted in slightly more elaborate productions and some following negative criticism. Drums and Guns finds the Duluth, Minnesota trio once again experimenting with new elements like drum machines and looped vocals, but returns somewhat to the sound they established while on Kranky Records. While 2005’s The Great Destroyer featured more of a rackety almost wall-of-soundish approach, Drums and Guns samples that racket and lets it quietly stir beneath the surface. Almost like they wrote the album, then took those pieces and re-assembled them in a new, shuffling fashion.

The comparison that keeps jumping into my head is Califone’s Roots & Crowns; the striking combination of rustic, organic instrumentation and lush melodies with noisy (though subdued) elements like feedback and electronics. “Pretty People” opens the album with that restricted, crunchy feedback before Sparhawk begins crooning about how everyone is going to die eventually over sparse piano chords, loose guitar strums and distant bass drum knocks. “Belarus” follows with a completely different sound, loose and melodic. It sounds more Juana Molina than anything with relaxed pings, ebbing strings, throbbing bass and Sparhawk and Parker’s poignant vocal harmonies. Building the momentum, “Breaker” begins with tranquil organ chords and a simple drum machine and hand-clapping beat before the vocals and murderous lyrics come back full-force over a reversed and feedbacking electric guitar. The rest of the album continues on the same vibe: a mixture of soul-turning melodies and crunching electronics, gorgeous vocal harmonies and violent lyrics, a slow-burning mood with an incredible sense of urgency. Or in other words, Low doing what they do best. I could go on describing the tracks, the CocoRosie shuffle of “Dragonfly,” the opening a cappella and throwback sound of “Yoru Poison,” and the surprising buoyancy of “Hatchet,” but I don’t want to unearth all the subtleties of the album so you’re left with at least a few surprises.

When a band has spent fifteen years in the game, it’s all about re-inventing themselves without losing the idiosyncrasies that has kept them afloat for so long. In my opinion, Low has done a phenomenal job doing just that throughout their career, though expectations rise with each album and harsher criticism (like that for The Great Destroyer) is inevitable. It’s hard to predict how the people let down by their Sub Pop debut will react to Drums and Guns, but I’m thinking it’s going to be more for the positive. It’s an excellent record that finds a nice middle ground between their early and later styles with a continued exploration into more electronic manipulations. Hypnotic, elegant, odd and mysterious, it’s all the reasons we love Low.






Group Doueh - Wazan Samat (Sublime Frequencies 2007)

Group Doueh – Guitar Music from the Western Sahara / Sublime Frequencies

From the opening moments of Guitar Music from the Western Sahara you know you are in for a treat. After a brief introduction, Doueh's electric guitar blasts out of the raw recording with an odd combination of styles that has a sort of bluesy wah-wah deal going on while an exuberant chorus care of two ladies singing at the top of their lungs easily overmodulates within the tiny frequency bandwidth. If crisp production is your thing though, I seriously doubt you would have headed in Sublime Frequencies direction in the first place. This is for us audiophiles that listen to music just to be baffled and awestruck.

On the far west side of the Sahara, somewhere between the fuzzy borders of Mauritania and the Morroco-annexed territory known as Western Sahara, Baamar Salmou aka Doueh, his wife, son and friend jam under the name Goup Droueh. Their style is one in its own led by the unpredictable and intricate fingers of Salmou on his unrelenting electric guitar. While based in the local Mauritanian modal structure, Salmou relies as much on the psychedelic stylings of Hendrix and the energetic funk of James Brown as the hypnotic, trance-like Gnawan music from Morocco and other regional styles. He plays with almost the same fractured manner as, believe it or not, Tim Kinsella in his Make Believe guise, but with a phase shifter and in scales we could only dream of understanding. Elliptical melodies gallop out of the unhinged virtuosity of Salmou while being joined by loose percussion, almost unrecognizable keyboards at points and the jubilant screams of his wife and her friend. It's joyous and you don't know why, and I doubt you'll care after being immersed in the sound for a while.

Personally, I think the album gets better as it progresses. The first couple tracks grab your undivided attention, but not until "Fagu" do you realize that you are listening to something special. Salmou runs up and down foreign scales very quickly in a jerky yet loose method that doesn't sound unlike Spencer Seim or Kinsella, as I mentioned earlier. "Dun Dan" begins a bit more subdued but builds into a chugging tune with oddly placed drum machine toms in one of the many wonderful what-the-fuck-that-was-awesome moments of the disc. "Wazan Samat" follows with an irresistible hand-clap rhythm and roundabout vocals as Salmou snakes in the background, and the final track, "Cheyla Ya Haiuune," is the poppiest of the group that almost effervesces at points when Salmou's tight harmonic bubbles meet Hendrix-like solos. Group Doueh produces music that is innately foreign to our ears but not all-together alien. You can understand where he's coming from, but it's nearly impossible to predict what's next which makes Guitar Music from the Western Sahara so much jaw-dropping fun.






Pole - Pferd (~scape 2007)

Pole – Steingarten / ~scape

Sefan Betke has never made music for the dancefloor though it’s hard to separate him from his fellow post-techno Berlinites. Under the moniker Pole, he pushed the boundaries of minimalist experimentation drawing elements of dub, hip-hop, techno, IDM and musique concrète to create the subtle mechanical throb of sound-architecture. Built from the idiosyncratic crackling-hum of a damaged Waldorf-4-Pole filter, Betke established himself through three numerically-named (1, 2, 3) albums in the late 90s and opened the doors of experimental electronica label ~scape with Barbara Presinger in ’99 which has released records by Jan Jelinek, Safety Scissors, John Tejada and other similar-minded artists. In recent years though, Betke has been incorporating more and more familiar structures in his music and with Steingarten, Pole is closer to the dancefloor than he’s ever been.

Now don’t get me wrong, Betke has not scrapped his filters for synthesizers just yet, but these songs have easily distinguishable bpms and head-nodding if not danceable rhythms. The mechanical hums and clanks still make up the majority of the building materials and subtle melodies are created out of the harmonic vibrations made from two pieces of metal clanging together and filtered through dub-like echo triggers. Think John Tejada with broken equipment. His clever manipulation of static white noise and feedback reappear on many occasions adding texture and depth to the sparse arrangements. “Jungs” for example rides an offbeat bass thump and bright, crackling spritzes of melodic static dipped in dub-like reverberation and builds over seven minutes from a groovy club number to disorienting and fraying noise. I’m a bit partial to the more minimal, exploratory tracks that reach back to early Pole like “Mädchen,” which builds from high-pitched glass hums and sparse, crunchy beats or the much more rhythmic “Düsseldorf” that features a number of different throbbing mechanics slowly coming together into one smoothly running engine. Closer, “Pferd,” has to be the strongest track though thanks to a much more relaxed IDM beat and ghostly melodica echoes; in fact, if the entire album was more in that style, I’d probably be ranting and raving all over the page. Like 2003’s Pole, Steingarten finds Betke utilizing more and more techno-oriented structures with his patented factory-damaged sound. It does not approach his early minimalist experimentations, but the increasing accessibility will bring in a lot of post-IDM fans. As for me, I can’t shake the image of a CGI animated factory chugging along in happy rhythm to Pole’s mechanical bounce.

New Music: Fursaxa, Wolf & Cub, Christa Pfangen

Fursaxa - Alone In The Dark Wood (Eclipse 2007)

Fursaxa - Alone In The Dark Wood / Eclipse

Music, at its very best, should be a vehicle to another place. Like a beam of pure information expanding your senses, informing them of this new surrounding, sight, sound, smell, wholly convincing in its realness. There's a million angles to take when reviewing a record. I tend to always spout off about location, certain sounds evoking Finland, having my morning coffee, floating through space, or whatever; the point is I like music to vividly construct a scene, to set entirely fabricated worlds in motion. So hopefully now you can understand my joy in discovering a new Fursaxa record. Its not easy keeping up with the world of handpainted cd-r's and Geocities homepages but apparently Alone In The Dark Woods is out on LP through Eclipse Records, to be released later this year on CD by All Tomorrow's Parties (or ATP).

If you're not already filled in on Fursaxa (aka Tara Burke), its a long, winding road but lets get you up to speed. It'd be easy to lump Fursaxa in with the New Weird America crowd, but the spirits that Burke channels exist on a different plane, freakier and folkier than where Devendra Banhartt dwells, and more medieval than Joanna Newsom. Its this kind of 12th century world where nature worship is a very big thing, most likely because its a tangible religion. Sitting by the stream at night, you can see the water nymphs sparkling just below the water's placid surface. It really is that intense. The most effective instrument here is Tara Burke's voice, echoing the same sadness as Nico, but instead of Chelsea Girl, its more like Benedictine Girl. Often being looped many times over, her vocals combine in different timbres to resemble Mass being chanted by a large congregation. Churches do exist in Fursaxa's world, as places full of reverance and that weird, chilling sensation you get when inside such monolithic structures.



Its amazing how Fursaxa always creates a wardrobe effect. Open the doors and step inside, follow that voice deeper and deeper into another world. Burke uses her voice brilliantly to propel her songs, deceptively simple instrumentation combines with cavernous, swelling chants to overwhelming effect. Its a feature of Fursaxa that I think Burke is conscious of, the seventeen second "Intro" serves to sweep you along into receptiveness. The first half of the record is especially funereal, culminating in the title track's black forest feel, disembodied voices echoing through the trees as a lone traveler plucks away nervously around the fire. "Nawne Ye" is the sound of a pagan harvest ceremony, invoking earth-bound spirits to insure good crops and prosperity. "In The Hollow Mink Shoal" begins as a sweet lullaby only to be swallow by quickly rising guitar, sounding almost celebratory. This is a familiar pattern of Fursaxa albums; Burke always mires things in darkness before delivering us with cleansing white magic.

Alone In The Dark Woods is a memorable entry into Fursaxa's already deep discography, and its no surprise she is championed by the highly reputable likes of Thurston Moore and Makoto Kawabata. Burke is a true visionairy, decidely single-minded and legitimately ancient, with determination to forge her own sound. This is timeless music offering the purest possible sense of escape to far away places in time and space.




Wolf & Cub - Steal Their Gold (4AD 2007)

Wolf & Cub - Vessels / 4AD

Ok, I've gotta admit this one caught me off-guard. Life is hard and you can't hear everything, not even the truest Audiversitarian. History shows that Wolf bands are good. The cover art is of this hash party full of all sorts of oddities. Firmly convinced, I played this for the first time at this record store where I work and for the duration of the album kept getting backhanded by all the rock-n-roll theatrics, all the smart tricks of the trade, that I was constantly made to pronounce to my coworker incomprehensibly dudetastic statements like, "Man..this is real rock-n-roll right here!!". This Australian group may be their country's best rock export since AC/DC...and blame it on my southern heritage but AC/DC are true r'n'r greats. Thats Wolf & Cub's trick, to be totally amorphous, cleverly picking through all that is good in rock music and sprinkling bits here and there to create a sound as much apart of the past as it is of the future.

Title track,"Vessels", plunges you in deep right away, plowing ahead with decadent swagger, riffing long and hard like the Stooges circa Funhouse. "This Mess" would be a choice single, stomping akin to Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out" but with way more muscle, eventually sporting a burly lead guitar veering into rock god territory, as much devoted to the MC5 as it is to Molly Hatchet. Tracks like "Rozalia Bizarre" and "Conundrum" are awash in heavy feedback and psychedelic intentions; these tracks showing that Wolf & Cub are equally adept at jamming out into krauty oblivion, and based on their dexterity here I'd like for these guys to extend themselves a bit more into the ten minute realm. Singer/lone guitarist, Joel Byrne, is a more than adequate frontman whose vocal style falls somewhere between Iggy Pop and Primal Scream's Bobby Gillespie on the wonderful but semi-forgotten record, XTRMNTR. Theres a definite dance undercurrent to all this rock-n-roll fervor, a track like "March of the Clouds" would be well-suited for remix action from someone like the Presets. Some consider it heresy to combine rock and dance but we must keep forging forward, potential pitfalls and all.

Wolf & Cub's music is a rare beast, as strong as it is smart. The influences are there to see but never easily pinned. It wouldn't be an overstatement to say that this music perfectly combines all the right ingredients from the past thirty years of rock history, broken down and reassembled into a coherent sound, existing inside of an ever-shifting but believable framework of reference points. So raise your fist for rock-n-roll, Vessels may be the cream of '07.




Christa Pfangen - Today (Die Schachtel 2007)

Christa Pfangen - Watch Me Getting Back The End / Die Schachtel

Sorry for the shoddy representation of the album cover but there are some things even Google can't do. But I'm not too surprised, especially when general consensus of this group leans heavily on words like "enigmatic", "improvisational", and the dreaded "unclassifiable". However, it is certain that Christa Pfangen is the female Italian duo of Andrea Belfi and Mattia Coletti, and NOT the actual Christa Pfangen (better known to us as Nico). Further investigation reveals a whole new world of Italian experimental music. Aside from knowing Larsen and Ovo, I have to admit complete ignorance of Italy's avant garde scene. Die Schachtel seems to be the place, though, a label with a solid ideological base; "Die Schachtel" apparently being a metaphor for, amongst other things, the conceptual and creative space occupied by both composers and publishers of music.

You can throw alot of terms at Christa Pfangen but none of them truly stick. Watch Me Getting Back The End will be attractive to fans of Animal Collective's type of playful abstraction, the tricky technical wizardry of Battles, or Sigur Ros's post-rock soundscapes. More specifically, this duo creates electro-acoustic alchemy with an improvisational feel. Despite the improv tag, Christa Pfangen manages to be quite fluid, employing treated voice to smooth things over, to add a touch of human warmth, although proceedings rarely veer into the red, avoiding becoming too skronky or wanky. "Today" is a song of soft edges and watercolor sensibilities, two voices interlocking in harmony as guitar and drum turn tricks in the distance. The drumming here is exceptional, sometimes free jazz kit work and at other times, like on "Showing You How A Soft Beat Works As Well", settling into a surprisingly deliberate breakbeat.

For all their experimentation, Christa Pfangen makes surprisingly pleasant music. There's peace made between guitar and drum interplay, hugged by rich electronic washes and gentle voices bereft of words. Watch Me Getting Back The End has alot of potential appeal, especially to the internet-seekers here in the States. And while I'd love to see these Italian musicians get their due, lets try to avoid making Italo electro-acoustic avant garde another passing blogosphere trend.

Used-Bin Bargains: Lee "Scratch" Perry

Sorry about the absence last week. We have been uber-productive lately and I think we deserved the weekend off.



Lee "Scratch" Perry - People Funny Boy (Upsetter 1968)

Watty Burnett - Rainy Night in Portland (Upsetter 1977)

Lee “Scratch” Perry - A Live Injection: Anthology 1968 to 1979 / Trojan

As anyone knows who has even just explored the surface of reggae music, Lee “Scratch” Perry is one of if not the most prolific producer in shaping the sound of reggae, and his colorful background only sweetens the legend. Burned bridges, copyright infringements, stolen masters, mental deterioration, whacked out sound experiments, fire-starting demons, its all there, as well as a mind-boggling number of singles and dubs that has solidified Perry among music’s most interesting careers. As if getting a clear account of what actually happened during his most potent era of music making in the early 70s isn’t hard enough already, attempting to find a good starting point or a conclusive representation of these years in his massive discography is damn near impossible. There have been many, many compilations of Perry’s music put together over the years attempting to pull the best of particular stages of his career, but for my particular tastes as well as being a good assessment of the mammoth role he had in guiding the development of reggae music, 2000’s A Live Injection: Anthology 1968 to 1979 on what should already be your starting point for anything reggae, Trojan Records, takes the cake. A double record anthologizing some of Perry’s most popular productions from the heyday of Upsetter Records is near impossible to beat if you want to really understand his contribution to the genre and scene.

Stories obviously vary among the many artists involved in the late 60s Jamaican music scene of when exactly and by whom ska was mutated into the rollicking reggae genre we know today, but most fingers point directly to 1968’s “People Funny Boy.” The first track of the compilation and one of the most infamous in the entire genre, Perry’s pissed-off rant at former employer Joe Gibbs ushered in a new Jamaican sound that sold amazingly and showcased the ferocity possible within the music. Perry took “Long Shot” by The Pioneers, a collaboration between the two producers, and flipped the gentle rocksteady riddim into a chugging backing track for Perry’s aggravated insults and genius use of a sample of a baby crying. It was Upsetter 001 and introduced the new wave of what was soon to be called reggae. From here the compilation moves chronologically through the end of the 60s and right on until 1979, about the time he burned down his studio, The Black Ark, in a fit of rage and stress (though the story varies). The majority of the tracks feature Perry as producer and arranger rather than as the songwriter and performer, which makes it almost just reggae’s greatest hits from the era. If you are looking for more of a mix of original songs, remixes and dubs, checkout out 1997’s three-disc Arkology on Island Jamaica, but for a great assessment of Perry’s ability to take an artist to the next level, stick with A Live Injection.

Three of the six pre-1970 tracks come care of Perry’s studio band The Upsetters, featuring Alva Lewis on guitar, Glen Adams on organ and perhaps the greatest rhythm section the genre ever saw, brothers Aston “Family Man” Barrett on bass and Carlton Barrett on drums. They were instrumental in the development of the sound, and 1969’s sax-riding “Return of Django” was not only a huge hit in Jamaica but introduced the genre to the UK as a #5 hit single. From here we begin to get into Perry as the producer with the infectious keyboards and uplifting vocals of The Bleecher’s “Come Into My Parlour” from 1969 and two of the most important early reggae singles, Bob Marley & the Wailers’ “Duppy Conqueror” and “Place Called Africa” from Junior Byles. The first of three tracks from the important and sometimes sadly ignored (by the mainstream) Perry/Marley collaborations, “Duppy Conqueror” (as well as “Small Axe” a few tracks later and “Keep on Skanking” on disc two) showcases the potency of what two such prolific artists can create when working together. Like Perry, Marley eventually conflicted with Coxsone Dodd and left Studio One to work with the Upsetters. The alliance only lasted a year and resulted in life-long recording rights disputes, but there were some great results that in my opinion eclipse Catch a Fire and Burnin’ released a few years later. Junior Byles’ beautiful “Place Called Africa” from 1971 instigated the repatriation theme in reggae music and featured one of Perry’s most elegant arrangements, the gentle riddim and twirling melodica melody easily match Byles angelic vocals and bittersweet lyrics. Dennis Alcapone’s version, “Africa Stand,” follows and hints at dancehall and rap as Perry dubs the Byles track for Alcapone’s toasting. Byles and Perry team up for a few more tracks over the course of the compilation including the heralded and rebellious “Beat Down Babylon” and the evocative “Curly Locks” from 1974 that finds Perry at his most elegant.

The rest of disc one features productions through 1973, including a couple of pop covers like Busty Brown’s lively rendition of “My Girl” and Horense Ellis’ soulful “Just One Look,” some elaborations of his own tunes, like Neville Grant’s “Sick and Tired” which builds on “Return of Django,” and previews of the wackiness yet to come like I Roy’s sci-fi sample-heavy “Space Flight” and Perry’s own quirky “Bucky Skank.” At this point as we switch to disc two, Perry has built The Black Ark in his backyard and his arrangements began to take life of their own. The production actually seems to sag in fidelity because of the poor recording equipment in the Ark, but the arrangements more inventive thanks to his ability to work in the studio whenever he liked. The ambidexterity of his backing tracks are easily heard in Delroy Denton’s “Give Thanks” and Leroy “Horsemouth” Wallace’s “Herb Vendor,” both from ’74. They each utilized the same easy-going Perry riddim, but counteractively Denton’s version comes off spiritual and moving while Wallace’s seems playful and chill. Also as the tracks and concurrently year of production progress, the little recording quirks begin to multiply, like the playful sound-effects and instruments on Judge Winchester’s “Public Jestering” (which reminds me a lot of his work with Dr. Alimantado) and the vocal overdubs of The Upsetter’s “Enter the Dragon.” He also seems to take an interest in particularly soul music whose likeliness shows up on multiple occasions in the second half of the 70s. Mighty Diamonds’ “Talk About It,” Junior Delgado’s “Sons of Slaves” and especially the wonderful “Rainy Night in Portland” by Watty Burnett all clock in at over six-minutes and feature hypnotic combinations of soul, reggae and dub. It would have been interesting to see what would of became of Perry if he had stuck with the musical pathway, but alas, as heard on “White Belly Rat” (a name he has adopted for his latest band) from 1976, odd, quirky, rambling vocals over inventive productions would be the norm (if you can call it normal) from here on out.

In the early 80s, Perry’s livelihood of long hours cooped up in a small studio, the stress of the Jamaican recording industry (and you thought rap was a tough world to live in) and the combination of psychedelic drugs took their final toll on Perry and he burned down the Black Ark convinced that Satan had taken refuge there. Regardless, Perry has continued to produce an unbelievable amount of music over the years and while there is a lot of shit to sort through with his discography in the 80s, 90s and 00s, there gems sprinkled through out including most recently Panic in Babylon (an Audiversity favorite) originally out on Damp in 2004 and re-released through Narnack in 2006. But if you are aching for some classic Perry production from the 70s, grab A Live Injection: Anthology 1968 to 1979 and you will not be disappointed. If you are more interested in Perry solo albums from the era, check out 1976’s Super Ape on Island and 1978’s Roast Fish Collie Weed & Corn Bread on VP as well as the many compilations covering that time period. I suggest doing your research first though, because Perry is the quintessential hit-or-miss artist and I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of his genius/lunacy.

New Music: Klaxons, LCD Soundsystem

In a month of big-deal releases (as is the way of the industry), two in particular will appeal to those more interested in dance music. They are two groups both diametrically opposed and inextricably linked. They are the current faces of rock-meets-dance. Their approaches are radically different, the end-product is no less the same, and yet both are combating a torrent of publicity on both sides of the Atlantic. It now seems appropriate for that post.













Klaxons - It's Not Over Yet (Geffen 2007)

Klaxons - Myths of the Near Future / Geffen

The first half of this post is the story of a group that has taken the mantle of This Year's "It" Brits. The ink spilled both for and against this band has been phenomenal in The Isles, but at last Americans get to see what all this New Rave lark is about in its purest form. Indeed, the Midlands-bred New Cross kids in Klaxons are seen as the torchbearers of a movement that has swept through the UK almost as fast as Arctic Monkeys in the fall of '05 (though Hadouken! deserve a mention here as "That Boy That Girl" is obnoxiously catchy; Shitdisco ain't half-bad either). While the 'Monkeys are busy recording with Dizzee Rascal and working with James Ford for their sophomore let-down, Klaxons are busy on the up-and-up kicking up a neon-inflected storm of press for their debut.

There is plenty of reason to be skeptical. Their garb is ecstasy chic and their Kicks Like a Mule-inspired debut single "Atlantis to Interzone" has all the literal alarms and buoyant exuberance a movement like rave once inspired. What people love to hate about rave is that it seems like such a transitory stage or phase: Rave doesn't think long-term, it thinks tonight and tonight alone. Such are the ways of hedonism. Why would anyone want this back other than the disintergration of a lot of institutions as we know them (the media and, more particularly, the music industry) is causing a lot of people to take an almost apocalyptic-fatalistic view of the future? Is this a myth? Who cares? Where's the next available hangar party?

So Klaxons become the faces of the hear-and-now. Even the Arctic Monkeys, foreigners du jour this time last year, seem irrelevant with their merely classic four-piece guitar-rock. Klaxons are both the past and the future. That's an awfully weighty burden to carry considering their debut is only just now coming out here. The expectation is that, this time next year, we will be remembering Klaxons with a shrug, a laugh or a frown and consternation... because we won't be able to remember anything except those air-raid sirens in "Atlantis to Interzone." Ah, is that who that was? I guess that's why they named themselves after the Greek verb of "to shriek."

The thing about Myths of the Near Future, ironically enough, is that for all its tricky electronics and sizzling samples, it too is but a mere guitar record. This is the great paradox that might make them as enduring as, well, Kicks Like a Mule. Somebody will remember them. Chances are, they're going to be remembered less for the surprisingly good album that this is and more for a movement that may or may not exist.

Which brings in another aspect to this story: NME. Though they get lambasted practically daily by professional and amateur critics alike for making up scenes, christening nobodies as the Next Bit Things, playing the home-favoritism card, and stirring up trouble, there are two things naysayers don't like talking about: They have to make a weekly magazine that will sell (which a lot of people are struggling with), and occasionally they get it right. They might've made up New Rave, they might be quick to christen Klaxons as Christ v.2007, they might be Union Jacking off... But the reality is, they may actually have gotten it right. Klaxons are good, and not just for their music.

My mother once completed "Gravity's Rainbow." I know five people who not only read it but understood it, her included. Precious few people have attempted to even cite Pynchon in song (Laurie Anderson, Pat Benatar... They're out there), but for these guys to do it seems almost offensive and still remains totally logical: They're dropping Burroughs references in a postmodern context. They have deconstructed post-punk, Brit-pop and, yes, rave. They rebuilt it in their own image. You think this is just music for the kids, and it sure sounds like that on "Atlantis to Interzone" or "Magick"... But "Two Receivers" fades in and is comparatively mellow. Clearly they think album and not just song. "It's Not Over Yet" is a pop song, as straightforward as anything on the radio here in the US. And their amusing cover of Justin Timberlake's "My Love" shows they're informed equally by the pop charts as they are about tech-house or math-rock.

Ultimately, Klaxons aren't just presenting kids with music for a good time. They're presenting them with an idea of the potential for a subculture to evolve beyond its own self-imposed parameters. Is it genius? Maybe not. For now though (and maybe only for now), Klaxons are looking like the one New Rave group that may outlast the movement it incidentally started. Myths of the Near Future is their argument.













LCD Soundsystem - Get Innocuous (DFA / Capitol 2007)

LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver / DFA/Capitol

On the flipside of the Here-And-Now is the Always-And-Forever. For dance music, the latter has always been something of a struggle: At some point, the hangar has to empty out, the dawn has to show itself, the turntables have to take a hiatus for repairs so we can catch our collective breath. James Murphy was already ahead of us when he set sail with the eponymous Losing My Edge 12". We know now what that did not just for the DFA or dance but for New York City and the very concept of "rock" itself. Genre-bending, genre-bleeding, genre-breaking: LCD Soundsystem was the active musical laboratory that captured hearts and minds throughout 2003 and on into '04. By the time of LCD's self-titled debut, kids were asking how he could top his singles.

As we now know, he didn't. Murphy avoided the question totally by thinking in terms of The Album, long expected to be dead by the end of this decade. Halfway through the Noughties and with over 60,000 copies sold, it's hard to argue The Album is obsolete. There were flaws in LCD Soundsystem, of course. Some of those songs needed to be trimmed. Some needed to be cut totally. Some just weren't "funny." How do you fight that? Sometimes, Siouxsie & the Banshees or Harry Nilsson covers just aren't enough. Sometimes you just have to go out there and fight it with something better. For a lot of people, 45:33 was it. But for the rest of us, Sound of Silver will have to suffice.

The brilliant thing about LCD Soundsystem is that it's become a rolling musical experiment in every possible way, bigger than mere songs: From the viral marketing campaign to go #2 on the charts to Murphy's off-kilter blog over at The Guardian... This is a band a ton of people want to love even though they're on a major and the RIAA comes after pretty much anyone who posts an mp3 of an album that leaked in early December. Funny how that works, isn't it? We grovel at the feet of a guy whose music is relatively airtight. Just check The Hype Machine... Then get innocuous while you can. Chances are it'll be down by the end of the weekend even with an impending release.

I don't mean to jinx myself, but you get the point: LCD Soundsystem is a big deal. They've done a lot for rock, but they've done more for dance music by giving it a sense of timelessness rather than timeliness. Sound of Silver is no different. This is a better album than the debut. "Get Innocuous" is both an incredible opener and a legitimate jab at dance itself: Critiquing the very nature of the extended mix, then running for over seven minutes. It's exactly what you want, even if the processed vocals add an Eno-ish element that had been reserved for the finale on the first album. Can't wait for the 12".

"Time to Get Away" and "North American Scum" are more song than dance, but already you've gotten the idea: Murphy isn't interested in just being clever. He wants you to dance, he wants you to think, he wants you to listen, he wants you to cross your arms and proclaim that you're above it all. Either way, you look like an idiot. If the press gets a kick out of pointing out how the joke's on Murphy as much as the listener, imagine what fun James must have creating this stuff and watching all of us imbeciles adore him for it. The joke is the best in music.

LCD Soundsystem - New York I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

And it comes out best in "New York I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down." This is the other LCD Soundsystem that gets all the critical acclaim but doesn't rear its head quite as often as the dancefloor anthems of its alter-ego. A touching display with lyrics as high up in the mix as ever before and a piano Billy Joel wished he'd been dumb enough to think of, Murphy laments the passing of his city... Then shrugs it off by saying it's "the one pool I'd happily drown." Coy. Cue fade-out. Murphy once said that he likes making music he feels confident putting on the shelf next to his favorites (Public Image Ltd., Can, Talking Heads, cf. "Losing My Edge"). A lot of people were worried that this whole dancepunk/punk-funk/disco-rock thing would be out by the end of '05. They reckoned that was the albatross... But the great don't settle.

Maybe those days are over. If they are, Sound of Silver both does and doesn't pay any mind. It brings the party and cleans up the mess when it's over. For that I will happily buy two copies on Tuesday to expose the flaws of the industry, why not? Seems like just as good a joke as dressing in tracksuits and snapping glowsticks to "Four Horsemen of 2012." But the construction, the arc of these two albums is both subtle and brilliant. While we busy ourselves with Bpitch Control and Ed Banger, while we imagine the Simian Mobile Disco LP or dream up how Interpol will make the same set of songs three times, Klaxons and LCD Soundsystem are here now. And for two superlative albums, you won't know what to think about modern music. The stuff of legends or the stuff of passing fads? Ask me in two decades when no one will care about our glory days and the party is over. Whatever that means.

New Music: Golden Afrique Vol. 3, Anga

West Nkosi - Dubaduba (Network 2006)

Hallelujah Chicken Run Band - Mwana Wamai Dada Naya (Network 2006)

Various Artists – Golden Afrique Vol. 3 / Network

I have spent the last couple of days trying to figure out how to approach reviewing the third installment of the Golden Afrique series which compiles some of Africa’s most popular music from the 60s, 70s and 80s. Volume 1 concentrated on the “classic era of African music,” 1971 through 1983, and Volume 2 focused on Congolese dance music. This entry is devoted to the somewhat musically separated southern section of the continent, especially South Africa, Zimbabwe and Zambia. The dilemma is not that I don’t enjoy the music, quite the contrary actually, it’s incredibly infectious and I would recommend it to anybody looking to explore the great music of Africa, but more so I’m worried about not being able to a contribute any significant insight to accompany my recommendation. It is incredibly hard to judge music’s essentiality without being pretty familiar with the genre involved and the options available for comparison. African music is not alien to me by any means; my dad spent his teenage years living in Liberia and while he is not much of a music collector himself, I grew up at least being aware of Miriam Makeba, Ladysmith Black Mambazo and the more popular African artists, not to mention I’ve probably heard every rendition of “Mbube” in its 70-year existence. But even so, while the sound may be familiar, most of the names involved are still very foreign. Don’t worry though, I’m very much up to the task of diving in and giving it my best shot, but for peace of mind, I want to at least point you in the direction of the much more worldly mind of Peter Margasak and his review which points out the fact that this is not the most deeply dug out collection of songs from this particular time and place, but still it acts as an excellent introduction to the wonderfully vibrant scene of African music circa the 20th century.

The first disc concentrates on South Africa and the assortment of musical styles which appeared thanks to imported influences like gospel, jazz, soul and funk being intertwined with local styles of music, and of course the number one reason for a potent creative scene to arise, an oppressing government. For nearly fifty years beginning in 1948, South Africans were forced into a system of racial segregation called apartheid to keep European descendents in economic and political control of the region. And if we’ve learned anything from the history of music, from Tropicailia to Dischord, it’s that a protest song brings out the creative best in artists. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Disc 1 kicks off with original version of Solomon Linda’s “Mbube” from 1939, the longest legal battle songwriting has ever seen I believe (you see Linda sang “imbube imbube imbube imbube weeeeeeeeeeeee” and we sing “wimoweh wimoweh wimoweh wimoweh weeeeeeeeeee” [scoff]). The comp jumps nearly fifty years into the future with the second track, Ladysmith Black Mambazo’s “Hello My Baby,” an obvious spiritual descendent of “Mbube” and in the a cappella isicathamiya style that would eventually and rightfully be called mbube. From here on out though, the connections are less stylistic between the songs than geographical and spiritual. For example, the third track from a group/man called Abagqomi, who I can find no information about, has almost this Celtic vibe going on and a far cry from anything mbube. Also included in this disc are a number of recognizable names like the Soul Brothers, Hugh Masekela, Chris McGregor and Mama Afrika herself, Miriam Makeba, who puts forth a subtly funky political shout-out not falling too far from a Sly & the Family Stone song. Makeba’s one-time husband, Masekela joins Letta Mbulu (listed as Letha Mbulu) for an arousing soul song and jazz pianist McGregor contributes an excellent sprawling closer featuring early ska-tinged big band, post-bop, soul and hints of free jazz. But compilations like these are for discovering new artists and unexpected sounds, so let’s tune in to a few of the ones that are at least new to me. “Dubaduba“ from alto sax player West Nkosi is a wonderful song that would be described as funk if not for the absence of drum breaks, instead it rides on an elating mix of bright guitar chops, Nkosi’s wailing sax and hand shakers. The proclaimed “king of the groaners” Mahlathini and the Mahotella Queens offer “Thina Siyakhanyisa,” with an incredibly infectious tinny guitar tone and a rhythm that makes sitting still impossible, while Reggie Msomi’s Hollywood Jazz Band have a wonderful first wave ska jingle that makes “Midnight Ska” sound more New Orleans than anything else.

If you are an African music aficionado and are looking for significantly lesser known acts, head right on to the second disc which focuses more on Zimbabwe and Zambia. There is not one artist I recognize on this disc from my personal experience, but you can bet I’ll be keeping a watchful eye out for their names in the future. I am assuming that the majority of them are playing within a particular local style, which is a name I cannot provide for you but know that bright, bubbling electric-guitar and high-hat rhythms are the norm. The Four Brothers track “Guhwa Ur Mwana Waani,” which probably dates back to the very late 70s, is a great example of this and actually reminds me a lot of benga music minus the strong drummer presence. Smokey Haangala’s “Ba Kuluna” is on along the same lines, but either recorded much earlier or without the help of advanced production (I swear though, Haangala may have gotten a hold of some British pop records prior to laying down this song because there is some different influence). Similarly, Oliver Mtukudzi sounds like he was influenced by classic rock with the rolling organ line and loose groove; in fact, southern rock may be even a closer assessment! My favorite track of the entire compilation has got to be Hallelujah Chicken Run Band’s “Mwana Wamai Dada Naya” though. I guarantee it is one of the catchiest songs you’ll ever hear thanks to Thomas Mapfumo and his traditional Shona music mixed with modern funk and upbeat rock. The rest of the disc follows suit in variety, including Dolly Rathebe’s Billy Holliday-like jazz-blues, Master Chivero’s pre-Congotronic sound and Safirio Madzikatire’s use of a didgeridoo and ufo-like synth waves.

As Margasak said, it’s not the most essential or unique collection of songs ever compiled from the wonderfully creative and eclectic cultures of South Africa, but it’s incredibly contagious. If you are widely schooled in the region, this may not be as eye-opening to you as it is to us just approaching the intimidating (in the sense of expansiveness) scene, and really you should be doing us all a favor and put together your own compilation. But don’t be discouraged, Golden Afrique is a caringly put together series that is meant to reach the younger, rampant collectors like we Audiversitarians and expose us to the many exciting sounds of the world we otherwise may have never been able to experience. And next time (though I’m pretty content to just spin this one over and over), I’ll be a little more apt to write an insightful review.






Angà – Gandinga Mondongo Sandunga (Nonesuch 2006)

Angà – Echu Mingua / Nonesuch

I've probably just not been looking hard enough or at least in the wrong places because quality Latin-jazz is hard to come by these days. After completely immersing myself in the world of Tito Puente, Ray Barretto and Pucho, anything post-1990 comes off over-produced or cheesy in comparison. While I'm sure there have been a good number of exceptions to my bitching, one in particular does stand out which not only received the much coveted Audiversity seal-of-approval but also a little known award called a Grammy. Ry Cooder's exploratory trip to Cuba brought us the wonderfully nostalgic sounds of Ibrahim Ferrar and the Buena Vista Social Club almost a decade ago now, but since then, a good majority of the Club including Ferrar, Compay Segundo and pianist Rubén González (not to mention Puente and Barretto) have all left us for the great dancehall in the sky. We also lost another excellent Latin-jazz last year whose death went sorely unnoticed because he had yet to break into the American mainstream, but Nonesuch is making sure that he is not completely overlooked with the American release of Echu Mingua (which already received critical acclaim in the U.K.). Miguel "Angà" Diaz contributed not only to the Buena Vista Social Club, but also the precursor LP by the Afro-Cuban All Stars and even most of the spin-offs from both acts, but perhaps because of being in the next generation of Cuban jazz stars, he had yet to gain worldwide recognition. Echu Mingua very well could have been that breaking-out album as Angà explores the relationship between the African, Cuban and DJ cultures with a good amount of success.

Angà was mostly known for his five- (and sometimes seven-) conga technique, which was originally pioneered by Irakere drummer Lazaro Alfonso who Angà replaced after Alfonso's untimely death. That acclaimed Cuban jazz group brought Angà a lot of recognition (and a couple Grammy's) in the late 80s and early 90s before he left to explore other genres like avant-garde jazz and hip-hop. These influences are easily heard on Echu Mingua as Angà and his band, including bass player Orlando "Cochalto" López, Malian singer Baba Sissoko Sissoko, Parisian avant-garde flautist Magic Malik and pioneering French hip-hop star DJ Dee Nasty, ride a fine line between each genre. Obviously this is not the first time we've heard Latin music mixed with some turntablism, but very few seem to live up to the musicianship and quality of music heard on this album. Angà jumps styles frequently from the all out Latin party jam of "Conga Carnaval" to the classic Cuban sound of "Pueblo Nuevo" to jazz standards like Coltrane's "Love Supreme" (and a great rendition at that) and Monk's "Round Midnight" to the hip-hopish "Freeform," but he gets the most interesting results when he mixes up the styles. The classic Latin-jazz tune "Gandinga Mondongo Sandunga," for example, is built around Angà's tonal congas, but let's everyone solo in a post-bop-like manner while ghostly turntable scratches tie everything together. Or "Oda Maritima," which unites Argentinean music with Cuban and African percussion and features a fluid string section, an excellent bandoneon solo and subdued spoken word from Yinka Oyelwole. On only a few occasions does the music ever drift into over-the-top or cheesy form leaving about 75% of the album incredibly intriguing. Sadly though, Miguel "Angà" Diaz passed away last August at the way-too-young age of 45 and by the sound of Echu Mingua, we may have lost one of the most promising and pioneering Cuban jazz artists of the last generation.

New Music: Nurse & Soldier, Desert Hearts, My Brightest Diamond

Nurse & Soldier - Back in Yr Corner (Brah 2007)

Nurse & Soldier - Marginalia / Brah

After a long day interviewing at a career fair and looking pretty for the papers, it's back to the dirty business at hand: Writing about albums. Nurse & Soldier appear to be up for this. Marginalia certainly looks elegant enough upon first glance, even if that font recalls Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness. You think I'm kidding, but Nurse & Soldier luckily won't be an album where boys fear to tread. Though the provided information insists Bob Pollard is a major influence and you can indeed sometimes hear it, on tracks like "Back in Yr Corner" the Stereolab listening parties make themselves known. But it's not just Stereolab, because this isn't just some ordinary run-of-the-mill deal. This is Robertson fucking Thatcher, thank you very much (and by that I mean Bobby Matador of Oneida). The vocals are all Erica Fletcher, but beyond that all you really need to know is that there's a little more melody and a little less repetition than the main show up there at Brah (which is related to Jagjaguwar in case you haven't kept your labels straight). You can sort of hear the pop, but the real risks are taken in percussion and in the tinny sound of those organs Oneida loves so much ("Satellightning" is a good example of this). Fletcher's vocals sound like Stereolab when coupled with the right music (and I'm thinking of "Wrong" here), but ultimately Marginalia is not really a direct imitation of any one band. It just sounds like several good ones playing together. There have been many, many worse things in the world.

Wait, what? Pitchfork and PopMatters already did this? It's already in Stereogum's archives? Oh. Whoops. Nevermind.











Desert Hearts - Gravitas (Gargleblast 2006)

Desert Hearts - Hotsy Totsy Nagasaki / Gargleblast

Hotsy Totsy Nagasaki - now there's an album title PopMatters and Pitchfork wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. I know, when I first heard it I thought it was bloody ridiculous too. But it's sort of ridiculous in that 764-HERO kind of way because, really, did "hero" need to be capitalized? I just accept the gimmick and move on because this is a fantastic straightforward "purist" indie record. Not sure why I like the bounce of "D Moon Pilot" or "Ocean" and the slight dirge-with-Sonic Youth-noise effects of "Gravitas," but I do know that sometimes returning from whence you came will uncover new dogs for old tricks. This is one such case. The Belfast, Northern Ireland trio have a dozen songs to their credit on their sophomore album, but this one appears to be better than their debut Let's Get Worse, which was out on Rough Trade. They opened for Peaches. They opened for The White Stripes. They even opened for Bloc Party... But what does that mean without a good album? Don't ask the Mystery Jets. They wouldn't know either.











My Brightest Diamond - Golden Star (Alias remix) (Asthmatic Kitty 2007)

My Brightest Diamond - Tear it Down / Asthmatic Kitty

Add Shara Worden to that list. My Brighest Diamond is her alias and she's enjoyed a tremendous amount of success in the last year. Now she gets the honor of being remixed like a big-timer; hey, everyone else is doing it. What better time than now? If you didn't think Worden sounded like Bjork or Radiohead before, Tear it Down makes for a pretty good case in the best possible way. Wait, hang on, is that Goldfrapp? LCD Soundsystem? This just keeps getting better... She's like all the artists you wished would release material for '07 already (even though Goldfrapp did just come out with a remix album of her own...) rolled into one nice, neat little package. All credit to Asthmatic Kitty though, they did nab some pretty excellent (if not high-profile) remixers. Anticon's Alias is foremost among these, and by starting off the album he sets the agenda, manipulating "Golden Star" into a glitchy, Anticon-esque port o' beat. It's not alone. Alfred Brown's take on "Magic Rabbit" is just as stunning. Who would've guessed My Brightest Diamond would be capable? Nobody paying attention at home, I guess. Ah well. You caught me.

So that sounds like a lot of rockish stuff, doesn't it? Seems kind of half-assed? Getting a bit obvious for you? Yeah, I'm kind of sensing that also. Time for some sleep.