Yesterdays Universe - "Prepare for a New Yesterday (Volume One)"

The Last Electro-Acoustic Space Jazz & Percussion Ensemble - Cold Nights and Rainy Days (Stones Throw 2007)

Yesterdays Universe – Prepare for a New Yesterday (Volume One) / Stones Throw

Though it sounds kind of weird saying it, but I have grown up on Madlib. Granted I did not hear Lootpack’s Soundpieces: Da Antidote until a good number of years later, but how could anyone possibly ignore Quasimoto’s The Unseen? When it dropped in 1999, I was only 15, so it came quirkily strutting along during my most formidable years. My obsession with the Oxnard, CA producer/rapper/DJ/multi-instrumentalist did not really take a stranglehold until a few years later though, but I would say in the last six years, I have rarely missed a Madlib-affiliated release (and really, anything that sports the Peanut Butter Wolf-approved Stones Throw logo). Like so many other spongy minds out there, my ears are always perked for something exuberantly different that has the ability to lead me in new musical directions I have yet to explore, and each and every Otis Jackson Jr. release has done just that whether he is grooving as Madlib, Quasimoto, Sound Directions, Madvillain, Jaylib, DJ Rels, (enter a dozen other clever monikers here), or my personal favorite: Yesterday’s New Quintet.

For better or worse, I doubt that many people share my viewpoint that YNQ is the premier Otis Jackson Jr. project; and truth be told, I sometimes waver with my affection (since they are all so good). But just as I started getting interested in jazz music and searching for a starting point into its massive realms, along came 2001’s Angles Without Edges. Split into an instrumental quintet of separate personalities (Jackson Jr., Monk Hughes, Ahmad Miller, Joe McDurfey, Malik Flavors), Jackson and his Fender Rhodes slipped into a jazzy parallel universe of break-beats and chamber jazz that sent me immediately fishing for any records highlighting drum breaks, organs and vibraphones. And a few years later, Stevie, Vol. 1 (and yes, we are still patiently waiting for Vol. 2), really open my eyes to the genius of Mr. Wonder, and anyone even remotely around me can attest for my blossomed affinity for the work of Steveland Hardaway Judkins. Though solo twelve-inches have appeared periodically along the way (The Joe McDuphrey Experience EP, Ahmad Miller’s Say Ah!, Monk Hughes & the Outer Realm’s Tribute to Brother Weldon, Malik Flavors’ Ugly Beauty and most recently, The Otis Jackson Trio’s Jewelz), this could be considered the proper full-length album follow-up to Angles Without Edges… if it was a Yesterday’s New Quintet release. Nope, the quintet of imaginary players is as ambitious as Jackson himself and has formed a slew of other groups (all with wonderful names of their own). Though I bet that twelve-inches from each of the off-shoots will see the light of the day eventually, Yesterdays Universe’s Prepare for a New Yesterday (Volume One) gives you a sampling of all of the eight similarly-minded but slightly different new groups, plus unreleased tracks from Yesterday’s New Quintet, Sound Directions, Monk Hughes & the Outer Realm, the Joe McDuphrey Experience, Malik Flavors and Ahmad Miller.

Confused yet? Just remember it’s all Jackson and all excellent.

Jackson once again handles the majority of the instrumentation and production, which is fucking ridiculous and amazing considering the depth of the music involved, but there are actually two other “real” players handling drum duties. Karriem Riggins of the Ray Brown Trio and producer for Slum Village, Common, The Roots and others, and Ivan Conti (aka Mamão) of the Brazilian synth-funk group Azymuth each add their idiosyncratic percussive touches to the myriad of Jackson compositions.

The music itself is very much a descendant of the original Yesterday’s New Quintet sound, but with much more density. Rhodes and stuttering break-beats still make up the foundation, but they are now submerged in a thick atmosphere of fusion, spiritual jazz, Brazilian music of all sorts, funk, hip-hop, post-bop and free jazz. Jackson some how purveys a sound that integrates the influence of perhaps his entire record collection (no matter how ridiculously gigantic it may be) but specifically crossing the paths of the Coltrane’s, Stevie Wonder, Roy Ayers, Lonnie Liston Smith, Sun Ra, Pharoah Sanders, Azymuth, Weather Report, Jack McDuff, Donald Byrd, Herbie Hancock, The Blackbyrds, Weldon Irvine, Billy Wooten and dozens of other purveyors of jazz, funk and experimental hybrids. While Angles Without Edges may have been a bit too sparse for some people to really get into, the groups of Yesterdays Universe can completely immerse you within the depths of the songs.

Of all the new incarnations, The Electro-Acoustic Space Jazz & Percussion Ensemble wins my vote for best new group, if only because the sound is perfectly described in the name. “Cold Days and Rainy Nights” to me is the centerpiece of the entire album as it mixes the characteristics of Alice Coltrane, Billy Wooten, Elvin Jones and Charlie Haden with touches of ambience care of bird sounds and rain sticks. The thick bass synth barrage of the Otis Jackson Jr. Trio follows with perhaps the second best track of the disc, “Free Son.” Multi-tracked flutes do battle with unyielding synths, electronic flourishes, congas and a metallic drum kit. I am also digging the new soprano sax influence as it appears on a few of the tracks, especially Jackson Conti’s skittering latin-jazz workout “Upa Neguinho” and the sprawling “Vibes from the Tribes Suite” by none other than the Yesterday’s Universe All Stars.

Honestly, I could go on and on and on about how much I love this album, but it’s always good to leave a few surprises for the listener. Yesterdays Universe is absolutely the culmination of a decade’s worth of musical exploration and instrumental refinement for Jackson as he takes his near infinite string of influences and swirls them into a galaxy all their own. It almost seems unfair that not only is he the reigning king of innovative underground hip-hop and DJ rarities, but he is now nearly inventing a completely new genre of jazz-funk fusion. I know you can dissect a good chunk of the influences going into this music, but what else out there truly sounds like this? And on a personal note, I really want to thank Jackson for taking me on this musical journey and opening my eyes to so many amazing artists and styles over the last six years; there are precious few other musicians to grow up on that would expose a fan to so many different sounds.

Artanker Convoy - Cozy Endings

Artanker Convoy - Rabbit (Social Registry 2007)

Artanker Convoy – Cozy Ending / The Social Registry

I am a big fan of album artwork. I believe to be a truly stunning release, it needs to be the full package: intriguing music, innovative and apt artwork and creative packaging. It also does wonders for capturing my attention, especially when thrown in amongst a large pile of other CDs all vying for my time. Honestly, I have mixed feelings about the artwork of Artanker Convoy’s sophomore outing, Cozy Endings. Granted the front cover picture of a lady’s well-proportioned fanny Lost in Translation-style is both appealing and in line with the album title, but to be perfectly honest, makes me think that the CD hidden inside is of the cock-rock variety. Thankfully though, it’s not—quite the opposite in fact—but I guess it could make one shake its groove-thing, so perhaps the photo is more appropriate than some Photoshopped post-modern something-or-another depicting the psychedelic swirls held within. Either way, Cozy Endings is an intriguing and worthwhile listen, so we can just debate the artwork later.

Helmed by drummer and percussionist Artanker (no other name included), the Convoy is made up of five other instrumentalists all focused in on finding the pocket and working within its limitations. A somewhat unneeded but still interesting biographical nugget, Artanker along with bassist Joe Florentino got their start on the NJ/NYC scene in the early 90s basement-rock act Jinx Clambake Explosion, which just so happened to be a starting point for an ambitious guitar player by the name of James Murphy (DFA, LCD Soundsystem). While the sloppy stoner-rock may not have much to do with what any of the involved musicians are purveying today, it does certainly make for interesting association. Artanker and Florentino also went on to star in the wily power-pop group Stratotanker while Murphy honed his studio skills. I am not sure where the actual musical evolution for the transition from goofy rock to sophisticated jazz-infused music takes place in the decade interim between the youthful projects and their current bands, but it’s a hell of an interesting starting point.

Most descriptions of the music are pointing to Miles Davis’s fusion experiments in the late 60s/early 70s, especially the oddball out takes of 1969’s Big Fun. I can definitely get down with that comparison; just realize Artanker Convoy would be less Davis, more McLaughlin-DeJohnette-Holland-Grossman-Zawinul. They all shuffle around aptly in the groove without one player truly taking command of the situation. And with all the hazy explorations of echoing electric guitar and krautrock rhythms, I would venture to say Can’s more subdued compositions might be better comparisons for the sound. Elements of psyche, jazz, dub and space-funk all interplay with the fusion and krautrock aspects making for music that simmers and struts and pays so much homage to the varied influences surrounding it, at times it enters a realm all its own.

As far as looseness and equally balancing all of their incoming influences, “Rabbit” takes the spotlight. A deep, spacey bass line leads taut, warmly toned guitar riffs (that are subject to many a guitar pedal as the song progresses), a two-man percussion rhythm, twinkling keyboards and Jake Oas’s patient saxophone, which weaves it’s way in and out of the pocket testing and teasing the throbbing mass of groove. “Black Dauphin” makes for an interesting number because about three-fourths of the way through the swirling psych-funk, Artanker locks himself into a dance rhythm not completely unlike a subdued DFA beat; perhaps Murphy’s influence did rub off a bit. The twelve-minute slow-burning introduction, “Open Up,” also is worth noting as it pairs a sexy space-rock hustle with touches of avant-garde jazz; Don Cherry would be proud.

Cozy Endings may be a bit outside its most befitting era (by a good 30-35 years), but within NYC’s current state of dancefloor redundancy, it is an especially refreshing listen. Artanker does a great job of leading his talented sextet without ever stepping on their toes. And that perhaps may be the most appealing aspect of the Convoy: all the players seem content to lock in with each other to create one infectious rhythmic groove without worrying too much about the spotlight. Now if perhaps we can work on the cover-art just a little to better suit the music… though I have to admit, it is pretty hard to argue with it too much.

Apparat - "Walls"

Apparat - Limelight (Shitkatapult 2007)

Apparat – Walls / Shitkatapult

For better or worse, sometimes albums get lost among the shuffle here at Audiversity HQ. My living room/to-do table is covered in CDs, probably about 60 at the moment, all separated into various, loosely denominative stacks and each in a very weak priority order (75% of which actually need to be listened to). Each week a new slew of albums gets placed on top of the piles, and CDs I have yet to get to sadly get buried further into the clutter. Needless to say, it’s an imperfect system. Well Saturday’s all-out work-a-thon had me digging into the depths of my options and I finally popped the latest Apparat full-length, Walls, into the player for the first time. Released mid-May and probably sitting right in front of me for the last two months, I sorely overlooked Sascha Ring’s fourth official full-length solo outing. A skittering electro-acoustic Technicolor affair, Walls truly lives up to the brilliantly sweeping and wonderfully colorful and chaotic mix-medium art work that graces the cover.

For me personally, I think the freshest aspect of Walls is how much it does not sound like the current Berlin scene (or at least my assumption of it). It’s overtly melodic, emotional and sentimental, three characteristics not typically associated with electronica music, but handled masterfully in the hands of a man who knows his way around a set of knobs. And most importantly, it is a varied affair. Ring approaches his music with characteristics ranging from the twinkling classical minimalism of Reich to the blippy R&B; of Milosh, and presents it in a well-balanced diet of dancefloor bangers, romantic ballads and soundtrack-worthy instrumentals. All the while, a consistent palette of colors is utilized in the tone to create a state of cohesiveness. Obviously, Walls is an album in the best definition of the term: an exploration, statement and story told with synths, drum machines and lush acoustic instrumentation.

Along for the tale are a few of Ring’s more musically talented friends, most notably sultry vocalist Raz Ohara and the similarly-minded Josh Eustis of Telefon Tel Aviv, who is responsible for the tone tweaking and final mixdown of the album. While Ring’s sexy compositions of soft-hued synths and creatively syncopated drum patterns are mostly responsible for Walls’ seductive appeal, Ohara’s Prince-lite vocals certainly help the cause. He is only featured on four of the thirteen tracks, but for more vocal-oriented, classic-song-structure music fans, they are your go-to tracks. “Hailin from the Edge” and “Holdon” push the boundaries of slow-dance techno tracks with near anthemic choruses, while later on “Headup” and “Over and Over” are more in the vein of slow-burning ballads (though the former still has an epic climax).

For my personal tastes, I dig the tracks that mix in his post-techno synthcapades with post-classical chamber music. Album opener, “Not a Number”, teams Reich-like elliptical loops of vibraphone with tinges of white noise, synth tones and strings, while the disc comes to a close with “Like Porcelain,” a mirrored sound utilizing similar electronic tones in place of the vibes. “Birds” successfully pairs sweeping strings and xylophone pings with a skittering drum beat, electronic noodles and Ring’s subdued vocals (which aren’t too unlike Ohara’s). As far as the more traditional Apparat numbers are concerned, “Limelight” takes the medal with its increasingly ecstatic layers of synth melodies and deep thudding drum machine.

Though my knowledge of most Berlinian electronica and the Shitkatapult roster itself is minimal at best, I would venture to say Ring is skittering on a completely different level with Walls than most of his contemporaries. If anything, its appeal to outsiders of the scene like myself is all the proof you need. It does a great job of capturing that wonderful sexy pop appeal of the early 80s electro-pop while keeping the genre wholeheartedly looking forward. There is a reason the Apparat moniker has risen to the top of the cramped, contemporary Berlin scene, and Walls should be all the explanation you need.

Bumps - "Bumps"

Bumps - OK!!! (Stones Throw 2007)

Bumps – Bumps / Stones Throw

So to conclude what has become post-rock week (at least from my side of things) here at Audiversity, we get to spend a little time with the Chicagoans who defined the term in the early/mid-90s, Tortoise. No, they sadly do not have a new album coming out as a cohesive group, but as you surely know by now, side-projects, collaborations and one-offs are abundant within the realms of the shell. This time around, the three most percussive minds in the band, John McEntire, John Herndon and Dan Bitney, head to the west coast and team up with hip-hop innovators Stones Throw Records for a record of drum breaks. Aptly titled Bumps, the rhythmic trio clang, clatter, skitter, rattle, pummel, pound, thump and yes, bump over twenty-three tracks of ridiculously tight break beats.

Not to dissuade you from checking out the album, but be wary, when I say drum breaks record, I absolutely mean it. Bumps is thirty minutes of break beats and that is it; no auxiliary melodic instrumentation save maybe a toned tom or the occasional ring of something-or-other is used whatsoever. I only emphasize this because even though it has not been advertised as anything more, I can easily see someone seeing the names Tortoise and Stones Throw teamed together and think this is some post-hip-hop-rock experiment… which it kind of is, but maybe not in the manner that you might think (by the way, that would be awesome and they totally need to look into that). With twenty-three different approaches to break beats averaging at about a minute-and-a-half a piece, McEntire, Herndon and Bitney are able to solder not only the aforementioned drumming styles of hip-hop and post-rock together, but also elements of funk, Brazilian, Latin, Afrobeat, krautrock, dub and other heavily rhythmic genres into one surprisingly cohesive and enjoyable album.

With the names and establishments involved, you can correctly predict a few characteristics before even pushing play on the album: 1. It is impeccably played, 2. It is crisply produced, 3. It is funky as hell. Now that we have covered those important aspects, for straight-up listening purposes, my personal favorite songs are the tracks that include odd drum set-ups, multiple tunings or extra percussive toys. While tracks like “OK!!!” contain breaks so killer it would make ?uestlove shake his head in awe, for attention purposes, songs like “Tryplmeade Gorsmatch” with it’s twinkling electronics and deep tom ring, “Swingland Hit” with it’s woodblocks and echoing pitches, “A Safe Balm” with it’s auxiliary conga rhythms, and “Dawn at Dawn” with it’s multi-tuned array of drums are your go-to points. For drummers and ears intently attuned to sample-able material, Bumps will keep you nodding your head for a good while; for listeners more interested in the melodic, lyrical or traditionally structured aspect of music, you may want to skip this release.

And being that this is a break beat record, I am curious of how the musicians involved are handling the copyright side of things. I do not see much point of releasing an album like this unless you are inviting other musicians to utilize the incredible breaks for other projects. At the very least, I hope that Stones Throw has a follow-up album close behind with songs built from these rhythmic foundations (and knowing the label, I can’t imagine that it’s not already in the mastering stages). But for the moment, Bumps acts as not only further proof that McEntire, Herndon and Bitney are three of the best rhythmic innovators in the game today, but a great DJ tool primed for killer segues or beat-matching.

Fridge - "The Sun"

Fridge - Oram (Temporary Residence 2007)

Fridge – The Sun / Temporary Residence

I will be honest, this is a tough one for me to review. First of all, most heavy-hitting internet-indie-review hubs have already covered it (Pitchfork and Coke Machine Glow for example), and for the most part, they have pretty much hit the nail on the head with their disappointed sentiments towards the album. And secondly, that disappointed feeling typically sways me from using this pedestal to even talk about the album in question. I am a positive-minded person, so even though the more critical, “I’m assuming this is crap until you prove it’s worth my much coveted time” style of reviewing may be more popular and respectable(?), if I personally give something a chance and can’t get into it, I just move on because there are plenty of other albums out there that do pique my interest (that new Cinematic Orchestra, for example, I find cheesy and severely disappointing, so you won’t find me spending a few hours writing about it here). But this is Fridge we are talking about. This is an album I have been looking forward to for the last six years and I’ll be damned if I am not going to spend a least a little time with it for better or worse.

First of all, if you are not familiar with Fridge, I’ll give you a quick run down (if you are, you can skip to the next paragraph). Fridge is now famous for being the high school outfit for now solo luminaries Kieran Hebden (Four Tet, Kieran Hebden and Steve Reid, Joshua Falken) and Adem Ilhan (Adem). The equally talented drummer Sam Jeffers, who despite his lack of solo career, rounds out the trio and very much holds his own with these other two respected musical innovators. The group gained recognition throughout Britain in the late 90s with their stream of seven-inch and twelve-inch EPs along with a couple full-length albums on Output Records. In my opinion (and from what I have heard over the years, most others), their cerebral, unpredictable post-rock sound culminated with the first and only stateside release (until now), Happiness on Temporary Residence. Made up of hypnotic experimental instrumental innovations, the 2001 album helped create a respected platform for both the Four Tet and Adem solo projects to leap from, which for the most part left the band itself defunct.

About a year and a half ago now, I was enjoying the amazing free jazz of duo Fred Anderson and Hamid Drake, who were opening the Chicago notch of the first stateside Kieran Hebden and Steve Reid tour. Much to my joyous surprise, Hebden was standing right beside me, so I got the chance to talk to him for about half-an-hour before he performed. One of the first questions I asked him (and surprisingly to his excitement) was if there would ever be another Fridge record, and he exuberantly explained how they were in the process of putting the final touches on it and that he was excited to be collaborating with Ilhan and Jeffers again. Though I am somewhat underwhelmed with the fruits of this reunion, The Sun, I cannot completely hate on it because: 1. It is not really bad at all, but in the context of prior Fridge output, somewhat disappointing, 2. I sincerely doubt that the intentions of the trio were to reinvent the post-rock game with this record, but instead to once again enjoy matching the talents of one another.

Where Happiness concentrated more on the minimal tonal interaction of a few precise instruments with each song, The Sun is much less concentrated and much closer to a straight-ahead post-rock album, which is probably the most disappointing aspect with the players involved. Again, where Happiness would utilize odd instrumentation like trombone, melodica, children’s voices and glockenspiels, The Sun sticks almost completely with percussion, guitar, bass and electronics. So you are starting to see a pattern arise. But the musicianship is one aspect that has certainly progressed over the last six years. The trio used to accomplish their sound by immense slicing, replacing and tweaking in the post-production stage, but this album sounds much more live and in the moment. Songs like “Eyelids” and the probably the highlight of the album, “Oram”, sound more energetic than anything that has ever been released by Fridge, which is certainly something to enjoy. Jeffers in particular sounds as if the reigns were unleashed and he is able to explore more bombastic drum patterns to interlope with Hebden and Ilhan’s musical experimentations.

Like I just mentioned, “Oram” is the centerpiece of the album. Building from a barrage of drums and percussion, a loose Tortoise-like groove of guitar, xylophone and skittering kit drums create that hypnotic melodic-percussive mental rift that made post-rock so enchanting in the first place (though that was fifteen years ago now). “Clocks” works in a similar manner, but with a higher degree of instrumental experimentation. Odd hollow clicks line the drum breaks and electric guitar scathes lead into an increasingly climactic array of guitar-bass-electronic interaction. Differing from the typical rock groove of the album, “Comets” excels by sounding completely out-of-place. Wavering analog synth lines tango with acoustic piano and a drum machine while a bass lays down the melody and subtle nuances of glockenspiel and acoustic guitar add further color. And “Lost Time,” nestled near the end of the album, adds soft vocals care of Ilhan to the mix for a humming, enchanting and highly melodic approach to the drum-heavy record.

So as you can see, The Sun is not a completely bad record as some reviews have concluded, but with its relative straight-forwardness coming from such a creative cast of characters and in a genre that sorely needs a shot of adrenaline, it comes off underwhelming. Not to mention having us fans wait in shaking anticipation for six years certainly does not help the cause. But perhaps some good can come out of this; maybe the lukewarm reaction to the album will egg on Hebden, Ilhan and Jeffers to keep the Fridge collaboration alive and producing music on a more regular basis. One can only hope, because we certainly know at this point that when these three creative forces find themselves on an enjoyable and productive plateau, great music will be produced and our ears are the main benefactor.

The World on Higher Downs - "Land Patterns"

The World on Higher Downs - Alpine Low (Plop 2007)

The World on Higher Downs – Land Patterns / Plop

So after somewhat ranting and raving about yet another product of the experimental and pastoral Chicago post-rock scene yesterday, a Wisconsin quartet one-ups my Windy City example. Granted this is a rarity in the Cheese State (that’s their official nickname right?), The World on Higher Downs would be much more suited in the scene just to the south, but if their debut album proves anything, it’s that they are very much self-sufficient. Hell, they even landed themselves on the wonderful Tokyo label Plop; I for one am impressed.

Made up of four multi-instrumentalists including Troy Schafer, Nathaniel Ritter, Vincent Wachowiak and Eric Bray, The World on Higher Downs craft their sound through patient layering rather than off-the-cuff improvisation. The project that resulted in Land Patterns began in the spring of 2005 by Schafer and Ritter. Initially instigated by innocent bedroom experimentation, the preliminary sketches were just made up of keyboards, effected electric guitar and violin, but strong enough to warrant elaborating on the songs. While I don’t have any indication of what exactly the early demos sounded like, stripping away the auxiliary instrumentation from the final recordings reveal a backdrop of slow-burning synth swells and swirling, staticy ambience; probably in the vein of a rough-hewn Stars of the Lid or Labradford sound.

After a few months of smoothing out the blueprints, Wachowiak and Bray were brought into the mix to further develop the music. Fleshed out with acoustic instrumentation like guitar, bass, xylophone, vibraphone, horns and a variety of hand, pitched and bowed percussion as well as electronic touches, Land Patterns began to truly take shape. Instead of digitally chopping up samples and piecing the album together, the group opted to arrange in large chunks by layering and blending the warm pitches together. There is a definite digital sound to the album, especially with the subtle static undertones and heavy effects lining the entire recording, but the warmness of natural instrumentation and analog recording is not completely lost in the mix. It is more acoustic than a Fennesz recording and more electronic than a Reich.

And speaking of influences, the biggest concern with Land Patterns is how much it imitates (though very well) its influences without completely carving out its own idiosyncratic style. During my initial few spins, I jotted down as I always do a few musical references to help describe the sound while writing my review. My list included Steve Reich (elliptical vibe and xylophone patterns), Labradford (effects-heavy, ambient soundscapes), Stars of the Lid (lush string swells and slowly developing arrangements) and Fridge (inventive rhythms and lyrical melodies), and low-and-behold, their MySpace-listed influences include all four as well as a shoegazers Cocteau Twins and Slowdive, post-rockers Tortoise and Tarentel, and electronic artists Loscil and Matmos. Every one of these references are warranted and very much put The World on Higher Downs in fantastic company, but also proves that the Wisconsin quartet is a bit behind the curve.

So that is pretty much the bottom line, Land Patterns is a fantastic, well-produced album containing the best elements of the last twenty years of acoustic and electronic post-rock, but doesn’t so much push the envelope as settles in comfortably and keeps the tradition alive. Do not get me wrong though, if this is a sound you particularly enjoy, then do yourself a favor and pick up the album because you very much will not be disappointed, but just realize that it is not reinventing the game. Land Patterns is well played and produced and at the very, very least, it should bring your attention to possibly Wisconsin’s most promising post-rock collective in The World on Higher Downs. I will very much be looking forward to their sophomore effort with high expectations.

W.W. Lowman - "Plain Songs"

W.W. Lowman - Goodbye Greg (Arbouse 2007)

W.W. Lowman – Plain Songs / Arbouse

Goddamn am I glad I decided to move to Chicago. Looking to escape the sweltering boondocks of South Carolina, my final two choices came down to New York or Chicago. Thankfully, the right set of events took place that I landed in the latter, because I seriously doubt that I would have fit in amongst the neon cacophony of the Big Apple. The bottom line is I am a mellow guy, and Chicago, more than any place I have experienced to this date, seems to near flawlessly marry the city life with a laid-back, pleasant spirit. It is not a lazy or simple aesthetic by any means though, quite the contrary actually. The city is paved with experimental complexities especially within the arts and architecture, but they are achieved and presented in an unpretentious, warm manner. And most importantly, the Chicago mindset is not to continually attempt to out-do the other guy, but to instead collaborate and share talents for the greater good. All the proof you need is in the city’s post-rock and jazz scenes; both are as vibrant and forward-pushing as ever. And when those two similar-minded collectives intertwine, the results are nearly always stunning. Continuing with this tradition, W.W. Lowman, a supporting member of the region for nearly a decade now, finally gets his chance to take center stage with his solo debut, and you better believe his musically inclined friends are here to support him.

Lowman joined the Chicago team in 1998. Catching the ear of then-Chicagoan Jim O’Rourke while interning at ACME studios with his idiosyncratic style of guitar playing, he quickly networked through the city’s dense musical veins. As the years passed, his talents as a versatile session player were utilized in increasing doses, and he now sports a résumé that lists L’Altra, Smog, the Aluminum Group, Alasdair Roberts, Edith Frost, Bobby Conn, Lindsay Anderson, Rob Mazurek, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Will Oldham as collaborators. Lowman’s only venture as a songwriter though (until now), is as half of the intricate Fahey-inspired acoustic guitar duo Bosco & Jorge with Brad Gallagher. With now ten years of networking and musicianship developing chalked up, it is time to cash in on the experiences, and Plain Songs is very much the work of a matured, Chicago-inspired musician.

With the help of the Aluminum Group’s Frank Navin, Lowman has crafted a highly melodic, lushly meandering post-rock affair in Plain Songs. Though he may be known mostly as a guitarist, this sounds much more like the work of a composer. In fact, his guitar for the most part weaves subtly around the instrumentation rather than completely hogging the spotlight (the latter half of “Please Don’t Think Its Funny” is a great example of this), and I would venture to say without the prior knowledge of his instrument of choice, you would be hard pressed to decipher exactly where his specialty actually lies. Seeing as his inspirations for the album were pop and soundtrack composers Burt Bacharach and Ennio Morricone, this makes even more sense. Lowman apparently placed his ambitions above the sound of one particular instrument and set out to balance the complex formalities of finely arranged mood music with the accessibility and light-spiritedness of a pop song. He excels in this with Plain Songs providing music that is contemplative, accessible and occasionally moving.

Lowman enlists a number of fellow Chicago musicians to help flesh out his ideas. The complementary tones of Fred Lonberg-Holm (Terminal 4, Lightbox Orchestra), Max Crawford (Poi Dog Pondering), Lindsay Anderson (L’Altra), Mark Greenberg (Coctails, Archer Prewitt), Darren Garvey (Andreas Kapsalis Trio), Navin and a few others all coalesce gracefully in a manner that draws as much inspiration from Tortoise as it does Morricone. The music swells and grooves and saunters with arrangements that don’t ever feel overly complex, but are certainly the work of a skilled musician. And best of all, each of the patiently developing songs (only one clocks under the five minute mark) rarely retreads territory. “Tea Til Ten” lightly sways with multi-tracked, wordless vocals, “Batie” simmers with shuffling drums and Michio Kurihara-like electric guitar explorations, “Lee & Me” adds banjo into the mix for ten minutes of bluegrass-inspired post-rock, and “Tennis Socks” experiments with strings, vibes, accordion and guitar interaction.

Plain Songs is a very Chicago album outside of the obvious post-rock references. Lowman is not afraid to experiment with a myriad of instrumentation, tone and genres, but keeps it all encompassed in a down-to-Earth, easily accessible aura, though sometimes to a frustrating degree. It’s melodious and skillfully arranged where the whole is more important than any of the individual musicians, including Lowman himself. There is certainly still room for improvement, but as far as an introduction to arranging, Lowman is well on his way. Hopefully, and most likely with the city’s progressive spirit, he will continue to develop and reward us with a truly spectacular album.

Numero Group's "Eccentric Soul: The Prix Label"

Eddie Ray - Wait a Minute (Numero Group 2007, recorded 1971)

Various Artists – Eccentric Soul: The Prix Label / Numero Group

You have got to be impressed with the production level of Chicago’s Numero Group collective. Rob Sevier, Ken Shipley and Tom Lunt (with the increasing presence of Dante Carfagna) started the reissue imprint back in the waning moments 2003 and in just a short four years have nearly climbed atop the American crate-digging market with their high quality aesthetic and ridiculous level of consistent production. Fifteen releases in three-and-a-half years is pretty impressive when you consider the time it takes to catch wind of unearthed gems, research, establish contacts, travel, dig, dig, dig, dig, wrangle the rights to actually release their finds, remaster, repackage, write extensive liner notes, issue and promote. Perhaps at this point they can devote all their time to their music-rediscovering love, but I am assuming for a good while all of that was scheduled around a forty-hour workweek as well. Damn is right. But the final product absolutely speaks for itself, and each concurrent release flies off the shelves at increasing speeds, so I sincerely doubt that production level is going to slow down any time soon. Well, at least as long as there are overlooked labels still to be rediscovered.

I barely had time to fully digest Numero 014, Grand Bahama Goombay, when a promo for Numero 015 came gleefully rolling into the record store a few weeks back. The eighth installment what has become the bread and butter of the Numero reissues, the Eccentric Soul series, The Prix Label finds the crate-destroying collective-extraordinaire heading back to the site of Numero 001: Columbus, Ohio. Not even the most notable city in Ohio (ahem, Cleveland), the Buckeye state’s capital is not typically a go-to point as a music-breeding metropolis, no matter what the era is in context. Yet the Numero boys have now dug up not one, but two incredible, overlooked labels from the 70s, first the Capsoul label and now the Prix label. Both share a penchant for intertwining the characteristics of Motown and Stax (sitting geographically between the two probably has something to do with that) and producing decisively left-of-center singles, but each definitely exists in a realm all their own with idiosyncratic details to their short-lived sounds.

The Prix label itself was created solely as an imprint to release material from Harmonic Sounds Incorporated. The joint venture between a black defense contractor and a white attorney, the music production company was very much a labor of love with the people involved spending five years of their lives pouring money, time and energy into it, but with only a catalogue containing a handful of 45s to prove that the company even existed. When George Beter headed west seeking better luck as a flailing attorney, his older brother hooked him up with one of his co-workers at the Defense Construction Supply Center right outside of Columbus. The ambitious Clem Price was an electronics enthusiast and had many a connection throughout the central Ohio city. He was able to hook Beter up with a job at the Attorney General’s office, which allowed the financial freedom to open up a studio and start a label to release exclusively the music produced within its walls; The Prix label was born.

Like most burgeoning labels during the early 70s, Harmonic Sounds became the home for a handful of promising young local artists, ambitious jingle writers, displaced careers and studio musicians looking to craft material of their own. Culling nearly the entire officially released back catalogue of Prix (only eleven cuts) as well as eight additional tracks discovered at an estate sale (four of which included in the “extended play” are unfinished demos and in the case of Penny & the Quarters, a group no one seems to recollect), this compilation contains some brilliant deep soul numbers that were sorely passed over in their time. The artists involved are varied, but the talent is undeniably above par across the board.

Singer Eddie Ray has probably both the saddest story and highest level of talent of the bunch. His career began infinitely promising as his first gig was in a Florida night club joined by fellow up-and-comers Same Moore and David Prater—ahem, Sam & Dave. Ray left just before their Atlantic deal and traveled the country with his own band, The Meditations, and later fronted a band run by J.C. Davis, James Brown’s original bandleader. He eventually found his way to Harmonic Sounds where he became the Prix label’s first release in 1970 with “You Got Me” b/w “Glad I Found You,” both of which are included on the disc. His sensational third single, “Wait a Minute,” which opens the disc, was never released after the first 45 flopped and Ray and Price parted ways. His career never took off, and he now resides in Atlanta performing to this day.

Also included on the compilation are two excellent deep funk numbers by the interracial, long-traveled group OFS Unlimited (who also back the thick soul croon of Mitch Mitchell), honey-voiced guitar player Joe King, youthful party-soul quartet Royal Esquires, R&B; saxophonist Chip Willis, multi-instrumentalist and studio innovator Ron Farthing who recorded as the Soul Ensemble (and when paired up with the Royal Esquires as Soul Partners) and socially-conscious mod-blues singer Marion Black. There is a definite shared aesthetic by the artists involved, and it gives the Prix label a very deep, soulful aura. Sadly though, none of the releases distributed by the label ever gained much momentum on even a local scale. After two years of production, the actual Harmonic Sounds studio closed and two years after that the label folded for good. The Prix imprint only lasted from 1969-1973, and Harmonic Sounds Inc partnership quietly disbanded in 1976.

Like every entry and the Eccentric Soul series and really every release by the Numero Group, Numero 015 is of the highest quality in all facets. And in all honesty, of the entire catalogue, Eccentric Soul: The Prix Label ranks among my favorite. Maybe I am just a sucker for deep soul music, but regardless, this release is worth ever penny you may spend for it. Better get it quick too, because I sincerely doubt the Numero boys will be sitting idly for long and we will have a brand new overlooked blip of musical history to finally discover for the first time.

Daniel A.I.U. Higgs - "Atomic Yggdrasil Tarot"

Daniel A.I.U. Higgs - Subatomic Yggdrasil Tarot (Thrill Jockey 2007)

Daniel A.I.U. Higgs – Atomic Yggdrasil Tarot / Thrill Jockey

So, in a convenient manner of accidental Audiversity interconnectivity, we get a chance to look at an album that is very much the polar opposite of yesterday’s Artdontsleep Presents From L.A. With Love. As I stated in my opening paragraph of that review, the most intriguing music typically either comes from wildly productive geographically centered scenes (see here) or completely secluded artists. For the most part, Daniel A.I.U. Higgs very much fits into the latter category, and after listening to his second officially released solo album, Atomic Yggdrasil Tarot, you will fully understand the reason I specifically chose the “intriguing” adjective. For his first release on Thrill Jockey, which happens to be the second installment in their limited edition full color hardcover book + CD series (the first being from Japanese electronic composer Aki Tsuyuko and the third to be from Thomas Campbell), Higgs gets the rare opportunity to match his surrealist Miró-inspired art (think pleasantly simple, colorful and imaginatively geometrical pieces) and his lo-fi, meandering guitar experimentations.

The creepy-like-a-cult-leader looking Higgs is probably best known for fronting the long-lived Dischord punk band Lungfish. As the lyricist and frontman, he established himself as a loony, passionate madman of a performer with a deeply personal (to the extent of being referred to as one of the godfathers of emo), stream-of-conscious-like delivery. Team that with his more recent interest in performance art and eclectic mysticism, and you start to see where the disjointed music of Atomic Yggdrasil Tarot stems from. His first solo album, Ancestral Songs (released in 2006 on Holy Mountain), found Higgs exploring his inner demons through minimal, meditative blues and discomforting lyrics; Tarot digs deeper within slimmer confines.

I have done my best to gather an understanding of the concept behind this album, but truth be told, it relates much more to the book than the music. “Yggdrasil” refers a sort of all-encompassing “world tree” in Norse mythology, which most notably is the tree Odin (an ambivalent Norse deity) self-sacrificingly hung from for nine days and nights in order to learn the wisdom that would give him power to the nine worlds (which has a very loose Jesus parallel in Christianity, though predating it by quite a bit). “Tarot” of course refers to the card game used for divinatory purposes, and I’m guessing “Atomic” signifies modern times. The paintings in the book paired with the spiritual anagrams that lay on the opposite page of each one maybe are something like Higg’s own Tarot deck and his interconnectivity to spiritual enlightenment. Maybe? No, probably not. Dammit, I don’t know, I think I’m digging too deep. Let’s just try and enjoy it for the aesthetic pleasure.

Okay, the music. The music is intriguing like I initially said, but is very much lying in that blurry mid-ground between genius and tomfoolery. It also spurred one of the most entertainingly hilarious reviews from the All Music Guide I have ever seen, including lines like: “Maybe after the right cocktail of psychedelic drugs, this album might take you to a higher plane, or even more likely, it might really freak you out – but it will probably just bother you until you are forced to turn it off.” Higgs, in a totally instrumental outing, utilizes a cheap cassette recorder to capture his raucous experimentations with electric guitar, toy piano, banjo and Jew’s harp. The music is distraught, disjointed and discordant for the most part with periods of hypnotic textural drones and grooves (in the loosest of terms) that is not completely unlistenable, but certainly takes a mind more open to such things. Honestly, the closest reference point I can think of at the moment is perhaps a Sublime Frequencies release. It is certainly exotic, though more in the mind-bending sort of way than the worldly definition of the term.

As I’m sure you have figured out by this point, this music is not for everyone, but I would not go as far as saying its complete self-indulgent malarkey. There are moments where I really dig the circular patterns Higgs taps into especially with his guitar playing. And really, he is just in that genius/insane classification of artist who just exists on a different level of art exploration than the majority of us. If nothing, the accompanying book justifies the cost of the package even if you don’t spend too much time with the music. And as Higgs states in his anagram of “Beatuy”: “Because Everyone Awakens Under The Yoke.” Wait… what?

Various Artists - "Artdontsleep Presents From L.A. With Love"

Adventure Time - This Dome is Our Home (Milan 2007)

Various Artists – Artdontsleep Presents From L.A. With Love / Milan

While the I can easily understand the argument that some of the best music is produced by artists secluded from our continually interconnected web of a world (having no influences sometimes can be the best influence of individuality of all), but as music history has shown us, a geographically-centered collective of similar-minded musicians and artists create some of the most fascinating art of all. From the Delta bluesmen to Detroit’s Motown powerhouse to Memphis’s socially conscious Stax soul to NYC’s underground avant-rock to San Francisco’s flower power jam to São Paulo’s Tropicália to London’s British punk to Seattle’s grunge to Japan’s Shibuya-Kei to Chicago’s post-rock to Baltimore’s bass-heavy club and dozens of others I failed to mention, the right group of creative people all banded together in a constructive catalyst of a city can lead to revolutionary musical movements. Los Angeles has fiddled with a number of such collectives in the last few decades, from gangsta rap to West Coast punk, but they have really yet to establish one particular sound that truly defines the city for the better. Promotion group and party starter Artdontsleep (aka Andrew Lojero) has something to say about that though, and Artdontsleep Presents From L.A. With Love is just the kind of eye-opener to get a scene recognized.

Just when gangsta rap was reaching its popularity peak in the mid-to-late 90s, a new anti-movement began bustling in the west coast metropolis. It brought together the hip-hop underground (and I mean all four aspects of the culture, not just rap) in reaction to the quickly spreading negative stigma associated with gangsta rap and began to create an antithesis to the style. Two particular labels have become very influential over the last decade in promoting and cultivating this underground rap and electronica sound, Stones Throw Records and Plug Research. Together they have presented just how far reaching the creative musical possibilities of hip-hop can be whether its presented in a minimal electronica or gritty rap manner. Highly influential in the cities music scene, artists have been mixing aspects of both label’s idiosyncratic styles and have began to define the L.A. underground with this hybrid. Both this compilation and Lojero’s productive parties display this evolution beautifully by collecting some of the most established and promising artists in the city.

From the Stones Throw side of the spectrum, the one man you are all wondering about, the one and only Madlib, is here in two of his many monikers. The deep funk of Sound Directions and the synth-jazz of Yesterday’s New Quintet both make brief but heartfelt appearances with “Wildflower” and “I Remember John Coltrane” respectively. Two of the label’s up-and-comers also contribute including a soul-resonating snap-and-beatbox number from Nathan Yell aka Aloe Blacc and a subdued thumper from sultry songstress Georgia Anne Muldrow. Plug Research also contributes three artists themselves. The new collaboration between Daedelus and Frosty named Adventure Time drops a sample-heavy, cinematic dublab banger, DJ Nobody’s new project with vocalist Niki Randa called Blank Blue provides a sexy, psyche-hop number, and quickly-rising producer Flying Lotus (who actually just signed to WARP) drops some of his skittering and swirling synthesizer-riddled instrumental hip-hop.

The rest of the compilation features other L.A.-based musicians that are a bit less known but still exploring the same sound with the same potency. Synth-jazz trio From Leaf to Feather open the album with a sound akin to Yesterday’s New Quintet but with a looser Brazilian vibe. Producer Computer Jay and vocalist The Gray Kid team up for a very chill track of blue-eyed soul vocals and flickering electronic flourishes, while hip-hop DJ and producer Exile follows with a laid-back and infectious stutter-hop number. The comp closes a bit more organic with both Isaiah Ikey Owens’s Free Moral Agents and Carlos Niño & Miguel Atwood-Ferguson dropping some skilled musicianship.

Artdontsleep Presents From L.A. With Love is solid from beginning to end and truly does present a scene that is both similar and diverse as far as the music is concerned. There is a definite, distinctive sound yet each artist can move around within its limits to establish their very own fingerprint. And on top of all that, the album comes accompanied with a 28-page booklet featuring the like-minded visual artists tying the scene together. Each exclusive song is treated with its own inspired piece of art, whether it is produced by photograpy, painting, collage or graffiti (typically a combination of all), created specifically for the project from artists like B+, Food One, Augustine Kofie, Dez Einswell and Blaine Fontana among others. The entire package is gorgeously assembled and a perfect visual representation to the music held within. If you live in L.A., there will be an album release party on June 16th at The A+D Museum featuring most of the artists involved that I imagine will be ridiculously amazing, so I hope you make it out to that. For all of us non-Los Angeles residents, the comp is about as close as we can get, so do yourself a favor and get in the know, because there some ridiculously amazing art brewing in City of Angels.

The Jai-Alai Savant - "Flight of the Bass Delegate"

The Jai-Alai Savant - Sugar Free (GSL 2007)

The Jai-Alai Savant – Flight of the Bass Delegate / Gold Standard Laboratories

Just recently, Chicago’s Watchers celebrated their new album release by sharing the stage with The Eternals and The Jai-Alai Savant. It is an interesting trifecta of Chicago acts because they all share a similar ethos yet each concocts a very individual sound. Both the Watchers with their Contortions-meet-Specials avant-funk-punk and The Eternals with their mutated P-Funk Afro-pop crafted with Upsetter-like production have been knocking around the scene for a good while now, but The Jai-Alai Savant are relatively new, especially here in the Second City. Damon Locks of The Eternals has provided artwork for both of the releases for the trifecta’s little brother, so the relationship with the newest act has been established for at least a minute, but I am curious just how far back it reaches. The shared aesthetic is just so strong, its almost as if they bounce ideas off each other; could a super group be in the works? Perhaps, but as for now, let’s place all hypothetical questions aside and just concentrate on the release at hand by putting the spotlight on The Jai-Alai Savant.

Brainchild of guitarist/singer/songwriter Ralph Darden, the trio’s debut EP on Omar Rodriguez-Lopez’s Gold Standard Labs imprint, Thunderstatement, was just that: a highly energetic, booming statement of the hybrid reggae-punk-pop The Jai-Alai Savant (pronounced hi-a-lie sa-vant) were to unleash. Rounded out by drummer Michael Bravine, bassist Nash Snyder and dub-beat-concoctor Major Taylor (Darden's DJ alias), the Chicago-by-way-of-Philly group have now let the reigns loose with their debut full-length Flight of the Bass Delegate. Like the EP and their companion bands, it truly defies categorization. Post-punk chugs beneath the dub production, reggae riddims groove with pop-punk energy, krautrock experimentation progresses with power-pop anthems, along with a dozen other odd pairings that make up the album. It’s music that is both infectious and challenging, which is the toughest couple of all to balance.

One major comparison I have been hearing a lot is to The Police, which obviously is not quite up to the wide-reaching descriptions I have been delineating so far. But I can also easily see why it is so often used. Darden sings with a similar high-pitched yelp to Sting, but with much, much more energy and urgency. And the bright marriage of reggae, pop and punk is also similar to the 80s sensation, but the parallel would be much stronger if The Police had evolved in a post-punk realm rather than just pop, pop and more radio-friendly pop. Plus the heavily playful Eternals-like dub production really shatters any such comparison to justify the outside reference.

The band really excels when the anthem-friendly energy is turned all the way up (in a similar manner to Parts & Labor’s recent release, but with less noise-rock). In particular, “Scarlett Johansson Why Don’t You Love Me” (a question every male anywhere very much including myself asks himself every time we watch Ghost World or Lost in Translation; talk about relatability) and “Sugar Free” will have you singing along after the very first chorus. The former boogies along with its stabbing, tinny guitar chops and harmonic group vocals, and the latter with a mellower rocksteady build up and wonderful fireworks-show climax. “The Low Frequent See” on the other hand displays the experimental prowess of the group. At nearly eight minutes long, the song kicks off with a sample-heavy dub riddim before a horn-colored melodic-tinged groove instigates that relaxed rocksteady dance you can’t help but succumb to when listening to that late 60s reggae. Synthesizer effects and urgency layers as the song progresses, and after a climax laced with trumpet and sax, the initial dub riddim re-imagines the theme for a couple of grooving minutes. It is not completely unlike The Clash’s better dub-inflected numbers.

Now that The Jai-Alai Savant is officially established as an act to wrap your ears around, can we now call this new wave of dub-punk a scene? If so, sign me up, because I am digging the hell out of it, and if it produces more albums like Flight of the Bass Delegate, Heavy International and Vampire Driver than let’s all show our love. Hmmm, someone should really start a label to band these similar minds together and further define the musical powerhouse that is Chicago. Anyone out there willing to loan me a couple grand to get it off the ground?

Savath & Savalas - "Golden Pollen"

Savath & Savalas - Apnea Obstructiva (Anti- 2007)

Savath & Savalas – Golden Pollen / Anti-

Working at both a radio station and a record store, I often get asked, “Who is your favorite artist?” It is a pretty unfair question that is often used to pigeonhole your tastes, but I don’t get mad at the interrogator because it is also works as an excellent icebreaker and an integral conversation-starter in these particular settings. While I typically answer truthfully and give the ol’ “well there are just so many to really pick JUST one,” I will occasionally be more specific with an inquisitor who is obviously looking for a starting point in contemporary music. That particular reaction is almost always Guillermo Scott Herren, because the vastly multi-faceted artist shares my penchant for so many different styles of interest and has created a variety of different über-productive outlets for experimenting with each particular direction. Not to mention, my personal relationship with music mutated from an interest to an obsession corresponding with my discovering his Prefuse 73 moniker in the early 00s. And perhaps the most telling characteristic of all, Herren refuses to sit idly; he lets each consecutive album or project portray his continued development and maturity as an artist and musician.

A man of many faces, Herren has developed a number of different outlets for each of his particular interests. He drops meticulously sliced and sequenced hip-hop as Prefuse 73, paints avant-glitch soundscapes as Delarosa & Asora, concocts ethereal beauty and sonic pleasantness with Claudia Deheza as A Cloud Mireya, tinkers with Rhodes, Wurlitzers and other acoustic keyboards as Piano Overlord and occasionally remixes rebelliously with friend and collaborator DJ Nobody as La Corrección. None of his projects sound alike, but they all secrete a sort of omnipotent vibe that simultaneously embodies musical pioneers of the past while always sturdily looking forward. The most interesting of these monikers in terms of personal development has got to be Savath & Savalas though. More a channel for acoustic-based experiments than anything, the project has evolved from the initial pastoral and glitch-lite post-rock of 2000’s debut, Folk Songs for Trains, Trees and Honey, to utilizing the alias to explore his Spanish roots with Catalan singer/songwriter Eva Puyuelo on 2004’s Apropa’t and Mañana. While each particular album has its own particular sound, they all share a very patient, lush aesthetic and have the innate ability to transport the listener into a state of cathartic bliss.

Now three years since a proper release from the Savath & Savalas moniker, Herren has made the move from electronica pioneers WARP to a label more suited for this particular moniker, Anti-. Their slogan “real artists creating great recordings on their own terms” and an extremely diverse roster that includes everyone from Tom Waits to The Locust to Mavis Staples to The Coup could not suit Herren better. Golden Pollen also features the multi-instrumentalist and producer acting almost as a singer/songwriter for this first time in his decade-long career, though as always, he has plenty of talented friends to help round out the sound. All housed in Chicago’s Soma Studios, engineer and Tortoise drummer John McEntire, sound experimenter and Battles member Tyondai Braxton, Swedish singer/songwriter José González, vocalist Mia Doi Todd, Triosk percussionist Laurence Pike, jazz bassist Josh Abrams aka Reminder, AACM flutist Nicole Mitchell, and A Cloud Mireya collaborator Claudia Deheza each add their idiosyncratic colors to the lush, plaintive, swirling painting that is Golden Pollen. With Herren acting as the conductor, this mini-orchestra of diverse talent creates an album that marries the earnest, exotic vibe of Luiz Bonfa with the post-modern expressions of the Leaf label.

Like the previous Savath & Savalas albums, Herren reaches back to his Spanish roots for the basis of his sound. By utilizing Latin stringed instrumentation like the Venezuelan cuatros, Cuban tres and flamenco guitars with other warm, melodic sounds like that of concertinas, vibes and woodwinds, Golden Pollen literally emits romantic sentimentality. But this is Guillermo Scott Herren we are talking about, so that is only the starting point. Along with a variety of percussion and drums, he stirs in Moog synthesizers, harmoniums, concert strings with processed sounds and his trademark skittering production. Though the mood may be placid, each moment of this album is chock full of swimming frequencies creating a river of constantly stirring sounds. Herren also takes the first crack at being the featured vocalist for the first time in his career; his yielding Spanish coo rarely acts as an actual focal point, especially for us non-Spanish speakers, but integrates itself seamlessly with the rest of the mellow musicianship surrounding it. Golden Pollen swishes and swoons, ebbs and flows, and effervesces lushly for 50+ minutes of exotic pleasantries.

Like the album’s artwork, Golden Pollen is an intriguing collage of both organic and synthetic material warmly hued and blended caringly to a minute degree. There are many moments of eyebrow raising exquisiteness when the lush instrumentation, creative producing and sentimentality hit just the right balance, but at sixteen tracks, I’d venture to say it drifts on just a bit too long. Shave off ten minutes of material (as painfully as I’d imagine it would be for Herren) or better yet, break it down into two albums of Mañana length, and I think it would be a bit more easily digestible. It is certainly not that the music is below insatiable at any point during the album, but for such a mellow, meandering vibe, less-is-more is the name of the game as far as attention spans are concerned. Personally though, I merrily soak up any Savath & Savalas material that comes my way and Golden Pollen elegantly continues the fascinating development of Guillermo Scott Herren and his nearly unparalleled artistic vision and high level of production.

Michio Kurihara - "Sunset Notes"

Michio Kurihara - Pendulum on a G-String: The Last Cicada (20-20-20 2007, Pedal 2005)

Michio Kurihara – Sunset Notes / 20-20-20, originally Pedal 2005

Let’s all face it, Boris with Michio Kurihara’s Rainbow is a phenomenal record that will be making a hell of an argument come December when those omniscient year-end lists start stirring. Not only did it prove how multi-dimensional ear-damaging Japanese trio Boris truly is as they seemingly reach their full potential, but also acted as an American coming out party for guitarist Michio Kurihara, who blew our collective minds with each sun-drenched, patiently powerful solo. I say “American coming out party” though because he actually released a solo album in Japan back in 2005, which truly displayed the subdued virtuosity hidden behind Masaki Batoh in the folksy psych-rock outfit Ghost. Sunset Notes proved Kurihara had come into his own a year prior to the first official Rainbow release, and (probably) thanks to the latter’s immediate success, we behind-the-curve Americans are finally getting our first taste of his blossoming as a solo artist.

I actually feel bad saying that it took till 2005 for Kurihara to truly emerge as a force all his own, because he has been proving his talented musicianship for nearly twenty years now. Raised on classical music, the Tokyo-born guitarist caught his first break when he was invited in 1986 by his soon-to-be-long-time collaborator You Ishihara to join White Heaven, one of Japan’s most highly revered psychedelic rock bands who were instrumental in reviving that scene in the late 80s. Establishing a penchant for wailing riffs and crunchy lyricism, Kurihara spent five years learning the ropes and unconsciously gearing up for his next highly regarded band Ghost. Headed by one of Japans most talented guitarists, Masaki Batoh, Kurihara first collaborated with the psyche-rock commune in 1991 before officially becoming a member three years later where he remains today. In 1999, he also hooked back up with his former White Heaven bandmates Ishihara and Chiyo Kamekawa to form a sort of second-wave Japanese-psyche super-group in The Stars which took on a protean metal-blues sound taking a page from Led Zeppelin and then writing a multi-genre opus around it. So after nearly twenty years of kicking around Japan’s most talked-about psyche-rock outfits, Kurihara finally took a step in the one direction he had somehow failed to attempt all this time: a solo career.

I think the most appealing and respectful characteristic of Sunset Notes is how restrained it feels. Don’t get me wrong though, there are moments when the wailing, soaring guitar virtuosity in all its feedbacking glory cannot be denied, but we have heard all of that from Kurihara before. The most telling aspect of this solo album his how he can strip down those moments to their bare essentials and conjure emotions with his lyrical guitar lines that never once step into over-indulgence or gimmickry. Absolutely every note sounds agonized over so that there is not one sliver of fat on this lean, hearty specimen of a guitar album.

While the concept of the record is rather loose and very impressionistic, it is telling of the many shades of color utilized in these nine songs. Drawing inspiration from nine different sunsets on periodic points of the calendar, Kurihara, with the help of Ishihara, Ichiro Shibata and White Heaven’s Soichirou Nakamura, conjures nine diverse audible replications of these majestic displays of nature with precise execution and gorgeous arrangements. While the album gracefully hits both sides of the dynamic spectrum, when he marries the two is when Sunset Notes really excels. “Pendulum on a G-String: The Last Cicada” has got to be the centerpiece; with Kurihara managing all three layers of the electric guitar cascade and accompanied only by an almost Brazilian triangle beat, the song absolutely does justice to the multi-hued fall sunset it sets out to mimic. With varying levels of feedback, each guitar line weaves in and out of the others never overlapping frequencies but certainly intertwining them. “A Boat of Courage” is along the same lines, but with a much more slowly developing and melodramatic climax. Like its inspiring June sunset, the atmosphere is a bit warmer, the colors are a bit more subdued and an overall sense of relief is undeniable as it closes out the album.

Don’t fret too much though if you more of a fan of Kurihara’s noisy side, “Canon in ‘C’ (C is for Cicada)” is two minutes of Branca-like all-encompassing feedback and “Twilight Mystery of a Russian Cowboy” soars along with a firebird of a guitar sound and a romping, stomping beat. And on the complete opposite side of things, Pedal’s female pop star, Ai Aso, provides her hushed female coo to two numbers. “Wind Waltzes” breezes on a simple synth skip and delicate brushes of Kurihara’s guitar, while “The Wind’s Twelve Quarters” is a bit more slow-burning with meandering electric guitar strums and organ flourishes (honestly, it reminds me of Broadcast without the blips and bloops).

As you can see, Sunset Notes is an album in the best definition possible: it is a multi-dimensional collection of songs that remains cohesive and tells a story without ever re-treading territory. Kurihara’s guitar work is less mind-blowing virtuosity and more consciously and deceptively simple framework that undeniably proves his talent as a songwriter. If mind-bending is what you are out for, head straight for Rainbow, but if it’s something more laidback and intimate you’re craving, look no further than Sunset Notes.

Theodore and Hamblin - "The Scientific Contrast"

Theodore and Hamblin - Pewn (Moteer 2007)

Theodore and Hamblin – The Scientific Contrast / Moteer

Damn the rain. The most revitalizing period of my week is the hour-long bike ride through the side streets and momentary neighborhoods of Chicago I get to enjoy every Monday while heading to my office on the North side. The sporadic rain showers outside my window are trying to prevent my coveted mental and physical sigh of relief this week, and taking the bus-to-often-delayed-train route is just not that appealing. But even though it is causing a little annoyance and procrastination, I cannot completely hate on the rain. It in itself is a periodic revitalization for both the Earth and my mind. There is just something immensely soothing about the slightly melodic patter of rain that helps wash away any lingering stress; so much so that my windows typically go up when the clouds start bellowing down. No, I do not want it to rain more than it sunshines, but goddamn do I love that periodic refreshment when it comes in small doses. Conveniently, these are very similar feelings I have for IDM, and more specifically the melodic minimum electronica that ran rampant in the late 90s. It is a genre that he somewhat fell out of style, so when an album’s worth of quality material drops in my lap, I pay attention… and listen… and feel refreshed.

As we heard with the recently discussed Fisk Industries compilation here on Audiversity, the IDM label is still far from being completely archaic. Subtlety, patience and pattering are just not the “in” sounds these days. That does not mean they are completely defunct though, you just have to dig a little deeper to find the crews still purveying that sound. Well look no further than the UK’s Moteer label where curators Craig Tattersall and Andrew Johnson are finding a comfortable stride with their blossoming imprint. They are already finding acclaim with warming electronica releases from artists like Clickits, Minimum Chips, Aus and my personal favorite, The Boats. For an overarching label listen, head straight for the Moteer::Sampler, but for now, we are going to concentrate on their latest release by Theodore and Hamblin, The Scientific Contrast.

A German duo very much indebted to early Morr Music releases (especially by Isan), Kibbee Theodore and Bernd Hamblin are much more about crafting a humble sound than worrying about any sort of style or outward appearance. In fact, they choose to remain as nondescript as possible and refuse to even be photographed or reveal much personal information. Their MySpace profile pretty much sums up their mindset with fragmented personal descriptions like: “We are private people, who live rather mundane lives.” / “We live in Germany, in apartments which are rather similar. In a small town near Bonn.” / “We like science and typography” / “We record by pressing the red button” / “We find it difficult to talk about ourselves.” With the melancholic, unassuming music involved on their debut release, I cannot say such biographical nuggets are surprising, and in fact, like their music, I find it somewhat refreshing.

Two of the brief descriptions I left off were that the pair met at a university while studying furniture design and that they have a wide array of electronic toys. There is no doubt both interests collide on The Scientific Contrast, and the architectural blueprints of these twelve songs stem from their profession of choice. Utilizing mostly nostalgic and innocent melodies and strategically subtle electronic noises, Theodore and Hamblin craft something plaintively beautiful. The music rarely reaches over a hum and the rhythms scarcely register on the audible charts, but when paired together, they form something truly engaging and peaceful. “Balmpe” and “Pewn” are the highlights of this combination. Each track begins very softly with just delicate, rhythmic electronic swells undercut by slightly skittering clicks. But as each song reaches the top of their easy-going climaxes, lush analog melodies form out of a multitude of untraceable electronic gadgets; every sound purrs and chimes and patters with care. It is not all sighs and hums though, songs like “Pelume” build off nearly abrasive high frequencies and “Hernd” rocks a four-on-the-floor dance rhythm however subdued it may be. There are a good variety of approaches to Theodore and Hamblin’s sound, but the album remains wholly cohesive.

I really could do some hefty name-dropping for comparisons, but really they would just be your typical IDM references anyways, so I will refrain from doing so. And anyways, Theodore and Hamblin’s approach is more to strip away all the typical defining aspects of the genre and utilize just the undertones to craft their music. If you listen to The Scientific Contrast all the way through, there is no doubt that you will come out the other side relaxed and refreshed (that’s like the fourth time I’ve used the verb "refresh" so take note). It is not necessarily music to fall asleep to, but more to calm your nerves and patiently contemplate a sticky situation. It is introspective, fragile and thanks to the artists’ taste for privacy, innately mysterious. Oh! And the rain stopped. I am not saying that Theodore and Hamblin necessarily had anything to do with it, but it certainly makes for a nice metaphor as their album comes to a close.

Chris Connelly - "The Episodes"

Chris Connelly - The Son of Empty Sam (Durtro Jnana 2007)

Chris Connelly – The Episodes / Durtro Jnana

Even today, more than fifteen years since he stepped out from the menacing shadows of the industrial scene he was so deftly intertwined within (Ministry, KMFDM, Pigface, Revolting Cocks, Murder, Inc.), dread-locked, leather-clad fans still show up to Chris Connelly’s solo shows hoping to hear that sinister scream. The realistic probability is that since they have clung on this long, there is no hope in evolving their tastes; but hopefully, these diehard fans will be turned on to the musically matured Connelly, the singer/songwriter with aged poetic lyricism and the insatiable craving to experiment. Sorry, the roaring heavy metal guitar riffs and pounding aggression are all but dissolved, but the passion and urgency is still easily heard, even though it may now be channeled through acoustic guitar strums and lyrical tropes. Connelly’s solo outings have been gaining momentum since the melodic Whiplash Boychild confused industrialites everywhere in the wake of Pigface's debut album in 1991. 2004’s highly acclaimed Night of Your Life on Invisible Records seemed like an apex for the Chicago-based Scot, but that was before the Everyoned project conjured a musical relationship with fellow Windy City innovators Tim Kinsella (Joan of Arc, Cap’n Jazz, Make Believe, Owls) and Ben Vida (Town and Country, Pillow, Terminal 4, Bird Show). There are still sonic experiments to be had and Connelly has reinvented his sound once again with his latest release, The Episodes.

The most striking aspect of The Episodes is its incredibly acoustic and dense atmosphere. Connelly and his talented cast of supporting characters fill each track to the brim with consciously monochromatic yet sprawling arrangements and opt for patiently developing, wholly organic songs. On paper, it is an odd collection of characteristics: Connelly’s creaking, Bowie-like croon emoting over an almost tribal circle of plodding toms, single-chord acoustic guitar strums, twinkling vibraphones, Vida’s teasing electric guitar noodles, occasional synth base lines, free jazz-leaning drum kits, sparse electronic tinges and even a mandolin (to name just a few). Yes, when they play it is chaotic, but in the strategically sloppy manner Kinsella has been perfecting for years and under Connelly’s elegant direction. All of the manic instrumentation combines into one throbbing, hypnotic background with the passionate narratives leading the way. It’s urgent, enigmatic and intense music that takes multiple spins to even begin to unveil.

The Episodes clocks in at just less than one hour, but there are only seven tracks involved. Ignoring the poignant two-minute coda, each track spans uncompromisingly with “Henry Vs Miller” being the spry, jazzy eleven-and-a-half minute centerpiece. If Scott Walker had hooked up with Soft Machine, it may have sounded somewhat similar. “Son of Empty Sam” may be the integral track of the album though as Connelly narrates a haunting tale of conceding to insanity as the music follows suit. Building from simple acoustic guitar strums, the song escalates for five minutes before threshold is broken and just ranting, pansophical voices are left. In simple terms, the protagonist has lost it. The second half picks up where the first section left off, but seemingly in a much more visceral manner. “The Ghost has an Orchestra” does nothing to dispose of the omniscient Bowie comparisons, but I seriously doubt Ziggy has ever been so hypnotic and tribal. And album opener “Mirror Lips” excels wonderfully with Connelly’s endearing tale being sung over a backdrop of shimmering acoustics and multi-layered hand percussion.

“Soul Boys/Hard Legends” is of special note because it was field recorded in a secluded forest of Wisconsin (conveniently pictured under the disc trey). If you thought the other songs were innately tribal, this completely solidifies the feeling. A loose, spooky piece, it does not quite live up to its accompanying album tracks, but certainly an interesting interlude following the epic “Henry Vs Miller.”

With such a diverse and unpredictable history already in place, it is really not that much of a surprise to hear Connelly reinvent himself once again on The Episodes, but certainly a much welcomed notch in his already world-worn belt. The album really burrows into your consciousness. On first listen, I was impressed but not hooked, but with each consecutive spin both music and lyrics unveiled another layer of depth. And it plods hypnotically, not really relying on one individual’s over-indulgent musicianship, but letting each player contribute just enough to affect the whole with an idiosyncratic charm. It is very like a Jackson Pollock painting where his spattering, seemingly random assortment of color and technique would dry into a brilliant, moving and undeniably preconceived piece of art.

Ibrahim Ferrar - "Mi Sueño"

Ibrahim Ferrar - Melodía del Río (Nonesuch 2007)

Ibrahim Ferrar - Mi Sueño / Nonesuch

The whole Buena Vista Social Club phenomenon was a pretty intriguing story if you paid attention. I do have a pretty idea good of our audience though, and I kind of doubt that it was quite as significant to the music fans we share most interests with than those of the mainstream. You could say it had more of an appeal to the American crowd that still considers the Grammy’s a meaningful award. But the fact of the matter is that Buena Vista Social Club is a phenomenal album documenting twilight-aged Cuban musicians performing the music they lived to play, classic son and lite Afro-Cuban jazz. It also brought international attention to Cuban music, which is obviously a good thing, but in the same hesitating manner that Paul Simon brought attention to South African music in the 80s: very concentrated and not really giving complete respect to the history of the long-lived music styles involved. Being familiar with the Buena Vista Social Club does not necessarily make you familiar with Cuban music just like being familiar with Ladysmith Black Mambazo does not make you familiar with South African music, but it’s a very accessible starting point and should be treated as such. In fact the majority of the members in the BVSC collective were brought out of retirement, which itself was already twenty years deep and ticking, so it does not even correspond to modern Cuban music. It was an album highlighting the sultry sounds of pre-Castro Havana featuring struggling musicians that were living in bleak poverty until that album spurred thousands upon thousands upon thousands of Americans to support the incredibly talented performers. I am not trying to be pessimistic about the album, in fact I am a very big fan of it and it’s surrounding projects, but it’s always good to be as realistic as possible.

The BVSC member that benefited the most from the wildly and unpredictably successful project (besides Ry Cooder of course) was the face and voice, Ibrahim Ferrar. 69-years-old when the album was recorded, it completely changed his life for the better. He was literally living off a meager state pension that was only augmented by shining shoes for tips, and was relatively obscure talent-wise even in his own country until pianist Rubén González suggested to Cooder that he utilize him in the recordings. With such a personable and kind demeanor lime-lighted by the accompanying documentary, Ferrar became the accidental star, which spurred an additional Cooder-produced solo album (also worth your time by the way) that sold almost two million copies itself. Ferrar spent his entire life performing the music of the BVSC, but only gained recognition in the waning years of his life. It’s both a heart-warming and truly sad story, which only gets more poignant with Mi Sueño.

While Ferrar was an ambidextrous singer when it came to the many sub-styles of Cuban music, apparently his niche of choice was bolero. At its very basic level a Spanish torch song, bolero was a slow dance that emerged in Spain in the late 18th century out of a combination of contradanza and sevillana dance styles. The genre made its way to Cuba in the early 19th century and enjoyed its highest popularity in the 1950s with heartfelt stories of travel and sentimental, unrequited love. So really, there is no surprise bolero had such a significant impact on Ferrar being that it was at the peak of its popularity when the Cuban singer was in his early 20s. The style eventually waned though and it just didn’t make financial sense to make recordings in that mode, so Ferrar never got to make an album of his beloved bolero—that is until he had the support of the entire music industry post-Buena Vista Social Club.

So in 2005, Ferrar finally got to make the album he so desperately wanted to all his life at the age of 78. With financial backing and an able band featuring pianist Roberto Fonseca, guitarist Manuel Galbon and bassist Cachito Lopez, the sessions for Mi Sueño commenced in the summer of 2005 in the wake of a European tour. After just the first vocal demos were laid to tape, Ferrar became ill and was condemned to his bed. With just three weeks to go before the final vocal sessions, the Cuban singer passed away from multiple organ failure in his home in Havana. Though enjoying immense unforeseen success in the twilight of his life, it appeared as if Ferrar would never get to make that bolero album he had always dreamed of, which was only further instilled when the session tapes were lost immediately following his death.

Thankfully though, the vocal demos Ferrar left behind were found a year later and they were of high enough quality that they could be utilized to still complete the album, which now exists as his swan song, Mi Sueño. In the traditional bolero setting, Ferrar’s aged and honey-soaked voice croons romantically over pleasantly sparse and subtle arrangements that vastly excel in their non-intrusiveness. The passionate, intimate and love-worn songs paired with the delicate instrumentation makes for some vastly easy listening, of which sidesteps anything resembling challenging music, but nonetheless hypnotizing and worth your time. “Uno” swings with stiff, subtle guitar chops, tiptoeing acoustic piano and swooning clarinets, while later “Copla Guajira” utilizes the same instrumentation but spins it into an infectious, foot-tapping cumbia song. And one of the great gems is “Melodía del Río,” an outtake from a Cooder session back in 1998 composed by and featuring the great, late pianist Rubén González. With a Southwestern-influence electric guitar solo, González’s patient, Monk-gone-Latin piano style and Ferrar’s romantic purring, no lady could resist such musical charm.

Like last week’s Friday night Audiversity festivity with Kahil El’Zabar’s French orchestra, Ibrahim Ferrar once again transports our work-week-worn minds to a much more pleasant state. Mi Sueño is romantic, refined, intimate, earnest and elegant and an absolute pleasure to listen to no matter the occasion. In this case, it’s not about challenging the world’s ears, but it’s instead about sharing one man’s life-long dream come to life in the form of an album. Sadly with Ferrar’s passing in August of 2005, he never got to see the final product of his efforts, but there is no doubt by listening to Mi Sueño that they were not in vain. And at the very, very least, it’s good to know that such a beautiful personality and talent was not completely lost to obscurity, though it’s certainly a shame we only got to enjoy the waning moments of Ferrar’s life.

Zelienople - "His/Hers"

Zelienople - Parts are Lost (Type 2007)

Zelienople – His/Hers / Type

It almost feels odd diving into a sound like that of Chicago three-piece Zelienople as the spring relief of winter melts into the soon-to-be-menacing heat of summer. My first reaction to this slow burning, mind-enveloping psych-folk slush is that of an autumnal early-frost sort of feel; the freewheeling, carefree spirit of the summer is now completely gone and the realization that a very cold, dismal winter is imminent. But first reactions are for the birds, and Zelienople’s fifth full-length is definitely something that takes time to digest. His/Hers is primed for midsummer; in fact, it sounds more a reaction to unwavering heat pelting at the brain and dissolving sanity than anything. It’s decomposed folk where the gangrene is made up of noise, psych, metal and free jazz.

While apparently recorded in a suburban Chicago basement, His/Hers sounds much more as if it was concocted in a decrepit cabin in somewhere deep in the woods of nowhere. There is just such a menacing, creaking vibe throughout the five songs that acting as a soundtrack to some folksy horror film is not a far-fetched assumption. Banded together as Zelienople since 1998, Matt Christensen, Mike Weis and Brian Harding are not scared to let their individual sound and erroneous byproducts collate and simmer into the kind of stew a Brothers Grimm character may be offering. And like the original manuscripts by the German folk-tellers, which beneath the sometimes ominous and haunting stories were the seeds of beautiful fairy tales and talented linguistics, the surface of Zelienople’s music may be that of foreboding vibes, but underneath breathes delicate folk and intricate musicianship.

The consecutive pairing of “Moss Man” and “Parts Are Lost” is the apex of Zelienople’s sound. “Moss Man” begins softly with ghostly, reverb-soaked guitar and vocals creeping up from levels that barely register. The music continually builds from here on out: first dithering echoes snake dismally from their sources, then the free jazz drums start with stuttering, scathing rhythms and finally in comes the feedback in all it’s early-Sonic Youth glory. The song builds and cascades and looms in a well controlled climax within the lo-fi recording limits. Just as the noise subsides though, “Parts Are Lost” pleasantly drifts in with trotting sleighbells and a very welcoming melody. Still drowned in reverb, the poignant, patient backwoods folk is in no hurry to establish any semblance of a hook, but just to exist as a counterpoint to the widespread menace. The song meanders pleasantly for nine-and-a-half minutes, none of which seem like over-indulgence.

Zelienople exist in a very odd cross-section of styles, an odd angle that sees Low, Boris and Flying Saucer Attack all overlapping characteristics. His/Hers is psychedelic in the mind-bending definition of the term, but not necessarily with the typically associated bright colors. It is folk in spirit and some instrumentation, but not afraid to wile out when necessary. It is noise where the source material plays just as strong a role as the distraught byproduct. And it is free jazz in the strategic placement of tones and liberated structure, but existing in a folksy realm that the genre rarely explores. Zelienople craft a sound that is not necessarily meant for being the center of your attention; it is more about being a catalyst to exploring the sometimes dismal and sometimes delicate aspects of your mind.

Fisk Industries - "EPs and Rarities"

Fisk Industries - Liquid Silver Moments (Mush 2007, originally Highpoint Lowlife 2006)

Fisk Industries – EPs and Rarities / Mush

There is just something enchanting about IDM done right. Through purely a mechanical process, a good electronica artist can breed emotion through a seemingly simple process of programming rhythm and melody. It’s not necessarily rocket science and typically easy to decipher from a listening standpoint, but utilizing just the right balance of equipment, samples and production is definitely a talent. If it weren’t, we would certainly not hold artists like Boards of Canada or Plaid in such high esteem. And in some aspects, while agonizingly obsessed over programming may never be held in the same respects as say a jazz improviser, acclaimed vocalist or a guitar virtuoso, there is something to be said for an artist that can wrangle emotion out of stone-cold sine waves, erroneous clicks and static.

London-based multimedia artist Mat Ranson had no intention of diving into the world of IDM, ambient techno, downtempo or whatever electronica subsidiary that may categorize his music. Bedroom sound doodling while at Art College in Birmingham, England escalated to collaborating in 2003 with Highpoint Lowlife Records, a club-spurred multi-genre release imprint based in London via San Francisco. Now dubbed Fisk Industries, Ranson was able to release is intricately designed melodic-yet-crunchy IDM aside similar-minded artists like Recon, DoF, Marshall Watson and n.Ln. Like the entire Highpoint Lowlife roster, Ranson is not necessarily out to revolutionize the genre with his Fisk Industries moniker; it’s more about exploring the possibilities and relationships of the tools involved. Attempting to elaborate on the seeds planted by Aphex Twin, Autechre, Boards of Canada, Oval, Mouse on Mars and Plaid without straight mimicking their sound. Seeking to breathe life into electronic machinery and seeing what emotion really does exist in those confusing pathways of wires and circuits and breakers and whatever else makes electronics electrocute.

Already making noise in London and it’s surrounding areas with four years of ten-inch EPs, digitally released work and other singularities, Ranson has now teamed up with the always entertaining Mush Records to both cull and release his collected material stateside. The two-disc set aptly titled EPs and Rarities features both properly released The Isle of Wight and 77 and Rising ten-inch EPs as well as four other exclusively digital EPs and five previously unreleased songs. Though the release dates involved span back to 2003, all of the material fits seamlessly together while letting Ranson dip his toes in the aforementioned electronica genres (IDM, ambient techno, downtempo) as well as dub, minimal techno, left-field house, glitch and illbient as well. I know that sounds like a bunch of similar style regurgitation, but they are all tags that Fisk Industries could be filed under, so just be aware.

The first disc featuring the two previously released ten-inches is definitely the go-to point for newcomers. Ranson has as good a grasp on manipulating analog synths into sparse, emotion-drenched melodies as either of the Boards, but definitely surrounds the core with more minimal isan- or Isolée-like minimal blip-rhythms than Boards’ drum breaks. And while The 2003’s Isle of Wight EP may owe just a little too much influence to the ambient electronica pioneers, 2006’s 77 and Rising adds a heavy dub influence to further the cause. “Liquid Silver Moments” for example submerges the bass-line leaving only the lowest of frequencies to pulse along the delicate, skittering rhythm, deep analog keyboard breaths and the sparse vocoderized vocals. Later on, “Close” sounds like it was almost produced through an actual bass, but processed heavily and colored in with synthetic string flourishes and twinkling electronic pings.

The second disc is a more random assortment of styles being a collection of mostly singles and unreleased tracks. Ranson teases his sound in both more upbeat and cluttered directions (“Columbia”) as well as the opposing sparse and ambient attempts (“On Thursday”). He manages to find such a welcoming balance on the first disc, I doubt I’ll revisit the second one nearly as often. And it should be noted that while very enjoyable, Fisk Industries is not releasing any music that has not been purveyed time and again since the mid-90s, when we all got sick of guitars for the moment and yearned for something different. It is, though, a nice, unpretentious culmination of the many sub-styles that have immerged in the last decade, and that certainly counts for something. I for one would take it over something like the progressive-trance overly climatic music of The Field any day. It’s something much more endearing with it’s simple and tasteful demeanor.

Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - "Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo"

Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Boiling Death Request a Body to Rest Its Head On (GSL 2007)

Omar Rodriguez-Lopez – Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo / GSL

Over at Reckless Records, I am always surprised at how consistently we keep Omar Rodriguez-Lopez’s first solo project, 2004’s A Manual Dexterity: Soundtrack, Vol. 1, in stock. It is a decent album (supposedly the soundtrack to an uncompleted/never-released film of the same name) of ambient psychedelic guitar noodles released at the peak of The Mars Volta’s popularity. I’m not necessarily saying it was a cash-in on the revitalized interest in Rodriguez-Lopez’s post-At the Drive-In guitar-wizard reputation, but despite a few well-worth-your-time songs, it is pretty much negligible in the grand scheme of things. Yet I have probably sold more of that particular album, especially the LP version, than all the Mars Volta albums combined during my tenure at the Chicago record store. I have a theory (that was somewhat solidified through a conversation with a patron as I was once again selling our newly-restocked copy to just the other day) that the brightly twinkling, light refracting cover-art has a lot to do with its appeal when matched with Rodriguez-Lopez’s acclaimed name. It nearly hypnotizes you with curiosity upon setting your eyes on the flashy cover; especially in it’s grandiose LP form. The customer asked me what I thought about it, and I told him my true opinion—decent with a few standouts, but nothing overtly special—and it didn’t dissuade him in the slightest, and then he actually remarked about the curious artwork. Now if Rodriguez-Lopez had just matched that ridiculously hypnotizing album cover with the music of his latest solo outing, Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo, we would have the complete package.

I think like most people, my interest in the Rodriguez-Lopez helmed Mars Volta peaked early and waned with each passing release; it is now to the point where 2006’s Amputechture got little more than a sole passing listen by my ears. But truth be told, I have always had and presumably always will have a soft spot for the Puerto Rican composer, guitarist and producer. He is just too talented to ignore even if neo-psychedelia prog is not your cup of tea. There is a reason that At the Drive-In was such an ambitious, mind-blowing punk band, and as Sparta has further proved, it was not stemming from the rhythm section. Seemingly the love child of Carlos Santana and John McLaughlin (see 1972’s Love Devotion Surrender for the seeds of Rodriguez-Lopez’s sound), Omar’s freewheeling and passionate compositions stem from the hey day of ambitious psychedelic jazz-rock in the early 70s, but as with his work with the Volta, occasionally over-reach their ambitions into pretension and come off more cheesy mid-70s prog than anything. It’s a shame too, because the man has ridiculous talent and vision, he’s just trapped in the wrong era.

Thankfully though, Rodriguez-Lopez occasionally leaves the major label budget behind for some home recordings like the ones on his latest solo offering, Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo, one of four albums recorded while visiting Amsterdam in 2005. Fortunately handed-over with no over-arching themes or alienating concepts or questionable Mars Volta artwork (other than the once again possibility of being a soundtrack), his third album under solely his name is an intriguing affair of mid-fi Latin-jazz-grounded psyche-rock that vastly improves on the foundation laid with A Manual Dexterity. The regular cast of characters remains involved: Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s high-pitched croon is utilized on three of the tracks (exceptionally on “Rapid Fire Tollbooth,” haphazardly on “La Tirania de la Tradiciòn”), Volta contributors Juan Alderete de la Peña, Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez and Jon Theodore all chip in, and of course the now expected two-cents from John Frusciante and Money Mark. All the musicians involved sound very much attuned to each other and provide ample palettes for Omar to riff and wail and rip over with his so ably proficient electric guitar.

After two doodling ambient pieces (the kind that made up the majority of A Manual Dexterity), the first proper tune is “Rapid Fire Tollbooth,” a patient psyche-funk number narrated by Bixler-Zavala that should have been what the Mars Volta was doing all this time. With Bixler-Zavala’s unearthly, echoing yelps undercut by drowned soprano sax flourishes, Rodriguez-Lopez first riffs with consciously sloppy wah-wah funk before releasing the kind of finger-bleeding solo that has instigated so many Santana parallels. A slightly more developed ambient piece bridges into the title track, a slowly blossoming song of Latin-jazz piano, mindedly eased electric guitar and un-enunciated vocals from Bixler-Zavala. It mostly sounds like a Tremulant cast-off, which is absolutely a compliment. Another continuously developed ambient number (a pattern is appearing) before we get to the original studio version of “Please Heat This Eventually,” a limited-edition 12-inch collaboration with Can’s Damo Suzuki from earlier this year. Though Suzuki’s growling vocals aren’t included on this version, Money Mark’s Joe Zawinul impression accentuating the urgent, exuberant piece certainly takes it to a new, welcomed dimension. In between the culmination of this every-other-track-pattern of slow-burning, ambient pieces, “Lurking About in a Cold Sweat (Held Together by Venom),” and the questionable psychedelic-punk of “La Tirania de la Tradiciòn,” is my favorite number, “Boiling Death Request a Body to Rest Its Head On.” Like a b-side to Love Devotion Surrender, Rodriguez-Lopez submerges his guitar in watery effects-pedals and lets Adrian Terrazas Gonzales wail on an equally recordingly-restrained soprano saxophone in a Pharoah Sanders-spiritual-jazz manner. With the light percussion and just right marriage of pedals and distortion, it’s the Latin-psyche-jazz excursion I have always hoped for from Rodriguez-Lopez.

So is Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo the best Omar Rodriguez-Lopez solo offering to date? Yes. Is it more rewarding than most of the Mars Volta output? To me at least—yes—but mostly because it just seems devoid of the pretension they have established with that outfit (which seemed like a good idea at first, but hasn’t really panned out). Will it prove as remarkably sustainable selling-wise as A Manual Dexterity? It should from a music standpoint, but the prairie-toned artwork certainly doesn’t have the same mesmerizing appeal as the light refracting hoopla of Dexterity. And finally, the must-be-answered hypothetical question: “I am more of a fan of the idea of the Mars Volta than the actual music, will this suffice my tastes?” Yes, and I’m right there with you buddy.

Kahil El'Zabar's Infinity Orchestra - "Transmigration"

Kahil El'Zabar's Infinity Orchestra - Soul to Groove (Delmark 2007)

Kahil El’Zabar’s Infinity Orchestra – Transmigration / Delmark

I was all set to write-up a party-friendly, spazz-happy record, but to tell you the truth, it just didn’t hold my attention and was really wrong for my current mindset. I need something more random and less hip, something maybe not necessarily mind-blowing, but interesting and exotic and ridiculous. I need to distance myself from the DJs and laptop-artists and solo-outfits and half-cocked ideas and immerse myself in something bigger, some sort of cultural melting pot of styles and backgrounds and musicians. I need something more than a quartet or a quintet or a sextet of players, I need a fucking small village of musical minds playing as one. I need something both new and old, a bridging of eras and mindsets, something that stretches out in all directions with exuberance, excitement and joy, and something celebratory to bring in this holiday weekend. So, what the hell, I’m heading to a port city in the southwest of France to experience the live, multi-layered, ethnic barrage of free jazz, big band, soul-jazz, funk and hip-hop by a 39-piece orchestra. While I may actually be spending this pleasantly cool and quiet Chicago Friday night huddled over my laptop with a Honker’s Ale and an attention hungry cat, as far as my mind and ears are concerned, I’m sitting front-and-center at the National Theater of Bordeaux, Aquitaine, France, drunk on their world-famous wine and smiling broadly at the orchestrating antics of Kahil El’Zabar as he leads his Infinity Orchestra through the rambunctious hour-long set of Transmigration.

El’Zabar is a true Chicago jazz musician; he is multi-talented, highly committed and part of more eccentrically wonderful projects than there is time to list. A product of the AACM, he is a percussionist, arranger, composer, conductor, clothes/costume designer, educator and community leader. As a musician, he began at a young age honing his skills with early incarnations of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, and along with playing alongside everyone from Dizzy Gillespie, Nina Simone, Stevie Wonder and Cannonball Adderley, he has lead and played in groups like the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, the JUBA Collective and the Ritual Trio. There are many other interesting tidbits to El’Zabar’s career as well, for example, clothes designing for Nina Simone, artist in residence/Master of Carnival in Bordeaux, or arranging the stage performances of The Lion King, but we really should concentrate on the album at hand.

The origination of the Infinity Orchestra reaches back to 1978 when El’Zabar pieced together an all-Chicago ensemble that let him experiment with his increasingly ambitious big-band compositions. In fact, one piece from those experimental days appears on this release, the album closer “Return of the Last Tribe.” Inspired then by the works of the Art Ensemble of Chicago and Archie Shepp’s big-band excursions and now influenced by myriad of geographically concentrated styles including free jazz in France (especially BYG Actuel releases, though not nearly as challenging), indigenous African percussion (most notably the balafon and djembe) and American rap and turntablism, El’Zabar has arranged and orchestrated a skillfully performed and joyous album with his French 39-piece cross-generational ensemble in Transmigration, which may not be perfect, but is certainly a treat to experience.

The album opens with the very curious “Soul to Groove,” certainly not what I was expecting at least. Kicking off with a turntable solo, a solo free jazz tenor sax enters two minutes later wailing away like there’s no tomorrow. It’s not cheesy in the least, which in itself is a success. Bombastic orchestra cheers and funky guitar riffing egg on the duet before dissolving back to just solo turntable once again; it is certainly not the first pair of the two genres, but it is handily pulled off. Now “Nu Art Claiming Earth” on the other hand is not nearly as successful and actually bends toward unlistenable. This times rhymes are added to the mix care of French rapper Bindi Mahamat, and with no offense to his flow, it just doesn’t work. The song drags on for fifteen-minutes through a barrage of different movements, but if anything, just disenchants the promising album opener.

The centerpiece of Transmigration is the 24-minute “Speaking in Tongues,” though while simple from an arrangement standpoint contains fantastic musicianship and is a very rewarding track. Kicking off with the melodic percussive sound of the balafon, a West African xylophone of sorts, it meanders through three phases each spotlighting a different soloist, trumpeter Piero Pepin, clarinetist Jean Dousteyssier, and alto saxophonist Benoit Berthe. Like every solo on the disc, they are inspired and fantastic, and in fact, the solos are the main attraction of the album. On “Return of the Lost Tribe,” the only two non-French musicians, Chicagoans Ernest Dawkins (New Horizons Ensemble) and Joseph Bowie (Defunkt) each provide emotional outbursts to the grooving orchestral swing led by El’Zabar. Again, it would be a far cry to call any of it classic, but it is very enjoyable and a much-welcomed aural escape from most of what gets released these days.

So after a ridiculously jading week, it feels great to lose myself in the heart-felt eccentricities of Kahil El’Zabar and his orchestra. No it won’t win you many cool points in the hipster realm of things and no it won’t blow your mind from a musical you-have-never-experienced-something-like-this-before standpoint, but it will put a grin on your face, make your head sway and probably send you to the liner notes a couple times to see who just ripped that ridiculous clarinet solo. What else could you want? A bottle of Bordeaux’s world-famous wine? Well yeah, me too.