Redundant chicanery

Favorites of 2011

2012-01-30T08:00:00.000-08:00

Breaking from my usual format, instead of blabbering on (yet again) about how much I liked the music released this past year, I am simply going to let the music speak for itself. Here are my favorite songs from my favorite albums of the year, sequenced in a way that you may find rewarding to listen to, if you should choose to do so. Most of the songs are proudly sourced from vinyl, so headphone listening is encouraged. It's ninety minutes long, so please allow yourself some free time to fully embrace it.

Favorites of 2011 by Austintayeshus on Mixcloud

Tracklist:
01 Jónsi — Why Not?
02 Kate Bush — Snowed in at Wheeler Street
03 Thurston Moore — Space
04 The Appleseed Cast — Middle States
05 The Sea and Cake — Inn Keeping
06 The Horrors — Endless Blue
07 Death Cab for Cutie — Doors Unlocked and Open
08 To My: Long Lost Love — If You Say So
09 PJ Harvey — In the Dark Places
10 The Feelies — Bluer Skies
11 Gavin Friday — The Sun and the Moon and the Stars
12 Radiohead — Separator
13 King Krule — The Noose of Jah City
14 The Beach Boys — Look (Song for Children)/Child is Father of the Man/Surf's Up
15 Fleet Foxes — Grown Ocean
16 David Sylvian — A Certain Slant of Light
17 Sigur Rós — Lúppulagið

I am participating this year in the St. Baldrick's fundraiser. Go here to donate. And yes, I'm serious: if I raise $500, the beard is coming off too. Otherwise, it's staying and I will be an unsightly bald man with an inexplicable beard.

~Austin

To My: Long Lost Love

2012-01-29T19:05:00.000-08:00

This is the type of thing that can be equally frustrating as it is compelling as a music fan.

Yes, I’m here because Robin Pecknold put this on his list of albums of the year for 2011.

The bandcamp page lists the artist as either “anonymous”, “to my long lost love”, “heart and soul” or “junior cloud apprentice.” It’s only been released on vinyl and I had to send an email off to a nondescript Gmail address to open a correspondence with its creator and purchase it.

This can be fun in a romanticized way where things simply boil down to the music and judging that simply on its own merits. However, a bit of internet sleuthing and some keen Googling will reveal (most likely) the creator’s name. My common sense tells me that it’s someone who is affiliated with the Fleet Foxes circle, as the record was released in September of last year and Fleet Foxes had been on tour for several weeks previous at that point (and, as has been expressed to me, the album’s creator has no intentions to release it digitally — which raises the obvious question as to how Robin Pecknold heard it). All of this I must admit, as much as I hate to remove the discussion from the actual music, is darn good fun.

I just wish I knew who exactly I had sent money to in order to receive the record, so I could properly give them credit. Oh well, I suppose. Maybe one day I’ll know. For the time being, I’ll just say that I like the songs that somebody whose name I don’t know wrote.

But I’m not about to overlook the actual music to speculate on someone’s identity.

I guess if I were to sum it up shortly, I'd say its sound hearkens back to the lo-fi, slow/sadcore sound of the early and mid-90's. It's got the sparse, low and scratchy electric guitar strum of the quieter moments of Slint, mixed with the flourishing psychedelic atmospheres of early Mazzy Star. Add a whispery, soprano-ranged singer on top of the lush musical concoctions and you get a downright pleasant album.

It's actually pretty direct, musically — which is the last thing you'd expect when considering its presentation. A lot of the songs clock in at around two minutes and consist solely of guitar and multi-tracked vocals. Some drum loops here, a synth harmony there, sad and sparse piano chords for good measure; nothing that revelatory, really.

The things that make it rise above and become a listenable —and, indeed, rather enjoyable— little lo-fi pop album are the catchiness and sincerity of the songs. The recollections of an intense bedroom conversation on 'What You Said' or the analogy of one lover pushing the other off a cliff on 'The Mountain' make for lovely little slices heartbroken pop, much akin to the twee generation. 'If You Say So' is the most impressive thing here, conjuring up a sort of Stereolab meets the Cocteau Twins vibe.

It definitely has the feeling to it of one person, sitting in a room with their guitar and tiny practice amp, working out the songs in the space of three or four days. All signs point to the lyrics documenting a pretty grueling breakup — there's practically nothing else addressed here except the past. The sequencing is great; not exactly telling a complete story, but finding proper bookends in 'It Comes in Waves' and the loss-accepting 'What Do I Do With You' (the opener and closer, respectively). It sounds pretty darned complete for a twenty four minute affair.

There's no information anywhere on the record jacket besides titles. So, to the person in Portland, Oregon that created this music: job well done. A word of advice though: next time, maybe take at least partial credit for your accomplishment.

If you don't reside in Portland, you can purchase this album (vinyl only) by shooting an email off to the address here.

~Austin

What's New?: 1.24.2012

2012-01-24T22:01:00.000-08:00

A small batch of mostly Byrds.

The Byrds — In The Beginning (1964)

This contains basically the band's original demos. None of the songs were released in the form they are on here until several years later, but in different running orders and (if I understand correctly) not as complete as this one. For somebody who's into the Byrds, it's basically a more lightweight version of what you already know you like about the band. Jangly guitars? Check. Group harmonies? Check. Swooping choruses? Check. It's all just presented a little more politely than you may be used to. Think of like this: they are a little more Kingston Trio than Bob Dylan here. Although you do get somewhat garagey moments like 'You Movin'' which sounds great next to their spooky original rendition of 'You Showed Me' (covered five years later to great fame by the Turtles). You get the original, decidedly very folky, arrangement of 'Mr. Tambourine Man', which is fun because they would claim the tune as their own just a year later with a revolutionary arrangement.

WU LYF — Go Tell Fire to the Mountain (2011)

Great sound these Manchester boys have worked up! Reminiscent of Doves at times, actually. They didn't really come onto my radar when they first released this album last summer, but better late than never. Musically, they're very much in that echoey, noisy-yet-melodic-as-hell, cascading, "intimate roar" sort of post-rock vein. Vocally, they have this singer that doesn't sing as much as he just shouts and screeches his way through the songs. This can get a little grating after fourty minutes, but the powerful instrumentals behind him make a strong case for overlooking it. Take a tune like 'Cave Song' for instance: probably the most aggressive he gets on the entire album, but the riffs and the way the song builds in just darn good. And that should be why someone like me is interested in this album: these boys know their way around a redemptive build-up pretty well. 'We Bros' is case in point. One moment big and grandiose, the next sparse and slow, all building to a seemingly lager-fueled group singalong. Hard to categorize exactly what these guys are trying to do with such pompous-sounding music and purposely "mysterious" persona, but the tunes definitely have a lot of qualities that I like in music, so whatever. I suppose they've self-dubbed their sound "heavy pop" and I guess I see what they mean. That's also the name of the album's closing song (and one of it's highlights, as well).

The Byrds — Mr. Tambourine Man (1965)

The title track influenced a generation and ignited the idea behind a melding of folk-inspired rock music. Calling it seminal, groundbreaking or even just plain old important seems like a total understatement at this point. There's four Dylan covers here, none as good as the title track (though 'All I Really Want to Do' was a hit in its own right). A few other songs are reworked from the 1964 sessions documented on In the Beginning, and all are improvements. The best of the originals are the two Gene Clark numbers 'I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better' and 'It's No Use' — coupla nice rockers, if you ask me. Overall, totally strong album by a band whose potential must have seemed limitless at the time.

The Byrds — Younger Than Yesterday (1967)

This seems to be an overlooked one in the bigger picture of the Byrds' initial run of albums. Gene Clark was out and there's only one Dylan cover (their surprisingly good attempt at 'My Back Pages'), so I guess that kind of explains it. Shame, it's actually one of the better ones in that remarkable run. Chris Hillman's Beatles-esque 'Have You Seen Her Face' is a good one, while 'CTA-102' starts out normal enough, but gets pretty wacky pretty fast. Fun. David Crosby was emerging as a strong songwriting voice and his four originals are definitely my favorites here. The best of the lot is 'Everybody's Been Burned' which has that great, eerily cynical calm vibe to it that Crosby made his own. Overall, thinking about it now, this thing's all over the place, but there isn't a song here that isn't a total winner. I've been saying this a lot lately about these guys, but sometimes greatest hits collections just aren't good enough to paint the whole picture. And this album definitely illustrates that perfectly. Absolutely a contender for my favorite album by the band.

~Austin

Andrew Hill — Mosaic Select 23 (1978/2007)

2012-01-18T20:35:00.000-08:00

If Redundant Chicanery has taught you nothing during its tenure, the one thing you will have taken away from this place is that I often take into consideration personal experience when listening to music (either the maker's or mine — it's interchangeable, really).

Andrew Hill —one of the most original and resonating voices in modern music— recorded nearly three hours worth of newly composed material in the late summer and fall of 1978 amidst a cross-country move in the wake of his wife being determined terminally ill.

So, the contents of this box set?

Yeah that's what he was playing in the shadow of all of that change.

A move to the inner-Bay Area and an acceptance of his surroundings are basically what's documented here.

Is it sad? No.

Is it happy? No.

Is it boring? No.

Is it rewarding? Double yes with a side of yesrings, please.

He is absolutely playing his heart out for the duration here. If you have the patience, you will be converted to the church of Andrew Hill. I was already here, so I guess take my words as those of a true believer.

He seems to be playing life in all its profound glories and equally as profound sadness here with a cool and pronounced ability that simultaneously says, "I know that heaviness in your heart" and "Hey, cop this!"

Two songs from the sessions documented here were actually released on a seldom heard, independently released album. Those two songs are finally reissued here along with everything that was considered along with them.

It's astounding really.

A pianist goes into a studio and decides to play obsessively introspective material for three hours and the masters simply get handed over to him. Years later, we finally get to hear how a tune like 'California Tinge' (in two versions) finally evolved into 'Reverend Du Bop' — and not to mention that all three versions are excellent.

I don't really have much else to say here expect that it is an absolute joy to hear these sessions of Andrew unaccompanied and uninterrupted.

He sounds full of creativity. Full of life.

Wonderfully soothing music.

~Austin

Time catches up with you.

2012-01-15T21:43:00.000-08:00

So, you may have been wondering, why haven't I said anything about some important recent releases? I've just been listening, basically.

So, here's a combo-post: a short wrap-up of some important recent releases that I haven't yet spoken upon.

The Beach Boys — The SMiLE Sessions (1966/1967)

Well, I should say right now that I don't like Pet Sounds. I find it very overrated and just lacking tunes for the most part. In the great Pet Sounds revival of the late-90's, I totally didn't get it. So, when I was disappointed to hear Pet Sounds, I never bothered past that. I knew the Beach Boys' other early 60's hits and was not interested, thank you very much. I checked out Brian's version of SMiLE from a few years ago when I worked at Tower and I dug it. As it was one of the only decent things allowed to be played in the store, I heard it to the point of overkill and decided I did not need to buy it. A renewed interest after some choice dollar bin finds about a year ago and a revisit of Brian's SMiLE and I was anticipating this one pretty heavy. I bought the plain two vinyl version. It's ungodly amazing. The whole sequence from 'Cabin Essence' through 'Surf's Up' is just pure magic. I can understand why it was not released though. It's like, if Sgt. Pepper was the blueprint for the art rock, this was the perfection of that form. It was too much, too soon. The way that themes develop over the course of several minutes and several songs, while never becoming boring or obsolete is just the mark of a completely pure and resounding work. I love that idea of an album just being one long extension of one really great theme. And that dynamic is definitely at play here. I had a discussion recently with a friend about why the Beach Boys were considered amongst the greats of the classic rock bands when they really only released great singles. It's like, if you look at how they released 'Heroes and Villains' and 'Good Vibrations' as singles (two of the most artsy and challenging songs ever to be hits, if you ask me) and then released piddily crap on the proper albums, it's almost like they wanted to fail. Whatever. If this had actually been released in '67, the Beatles subsequent output would be deemed pleasant, but decidedly safe, while this would have been considered the great American pop art album for the ages. It wasn't so. And here we have a somewhat lukewarm final-issuing of the album over four decades later. It's one of the greatest albums ever made. Just like I expected. And guess what? It's not even my album of the year. They actually managed to get beat at their own game. And yet, it only took fourty four years for anybody to catch up.

Sigur Rós — Inni

I can't say enough good about Sigur Rós. They just seem to respectfully say to everyone else in the contemporary music world, "That's nice. Here's what we've been working on" and then proceed to play music that sounds nothing like anything or anyone else. To hear them in this live context —just the four band members, unaccompanied— is fairly stunning. To hear them open with the post-shoegaze gloom of 'Svefn-G-Englar' and then a few songs later burst out the ebullient 'Við Spilum Endalaust' is just impressive. The album runs the gamut from skygazing daydream wonderment to squalling feeedback drenched epic gloom. And man, do they not sound (and look) passionate. You really can't help but feel the downright soul in these performances. I bought it on clear triple vinyl in a very nice package and have played it a lot. Granted, it's just a live album, but I find that it's probably the best so far representation of what the band does and why that's so special. The DVD is excellent and the new song ('Lúppulagið') totally sounds like a Brian Eno circa-'76 album highlight, while still retaining that great calling card sound that has made the band so unique to begin with. Like I said: just can't say enough good about these guys right now. Who cares if they never make another album? This would be damn fine goodbye gift.

Kate Bush — 50 Words for Snow

Seriously slow. Serious. And slow. And quiet. But, jeez oh man, can Kate write resonating tunes or what? I still don't know what half the album is about, but it just has that sound that you just feel. Not a song here less than six minutes in length and there is so much space in these tunes that you may just start seeing stars up close. God, I love it. There's even a song here named after a natural landmark relatively in my backyard (that would be the eleven minute ode to ghost love, 'Lake Tahoe'). Most of this album is dominated by Kate and her piano and I have to say, I like it more for that. I know everyone wants her to release another genre-defining, technology-reliant masterpiece like Hounds of Love, but I just don't like that idea. There are a lot of shades of her past glories here (a lot of them occur in the album centerpiece 'Misty'), but those shades are stripped back to the bare essence and what you get is nearly Kate's unplugged album. A surprisingly good cameo from Elton John on the emotionally deep 'Snowed in at Wheeler Street' (I can name only a few more resonating songs in Kate's catalogue) and a nearly spoken funk-jazz workout on the title track round out the album and yeah. I will completely concede that I am still wholly unfamiliar with this one. I like that it's slow. I like that it lacks anything resembling a pop single. I love that it's so understated and almost confrontationally sparse. It often feels like the spiritual follow-up to the heavy-hearted concept proposed by side two of Hounds of Love. Yeah. it's that good. But I probably won't come to grips with it either for quite some time. It's a good one, that's for sure.

~Austin

What's New?: 1.10.2012

2012-01-10T20:21:00.000-08:00

I'm way behind and half of this shit got deleted midway through the write-up, so don't expect anything real deep in these thoughts. Here we go. . .

Foreigner — Double Vision (1978)

Just solid arena rock from when that whole thing was taking off. I don't know what it is about Foreigner that so appeals to me, as they are seemingly in direct contrast with everything else I'm normally into. Maybe it's the thoughtful guitar work of Mick Jones (which is surprisingly sparse, for this sort of thing). Of course, you get the two big hits on here: 'Hot Blooded' and the title track. Couple of harmless rockers, they are. But fun for sure. Perhaps predictably, I like the more introspective-themed mid tempo numbers like 'Back Where You Belong' (is it just me, or this oddly reminiscent of early Prince?). The twangy ballad 'I Have Waited So Long' is fantastic and easily the album highlight.

Foreigner — Head Games (1979)

More of the same and still pretty much harmless fun. The production on this one is a bit more layered and interesting, as the use of synthesizers is done in a fun way that incorporates weird sounds with pop melodies. Case in point is 'Love on the Telephone' which is lyrically a pretty dumb song, but musically, it's pure stylistic sheen and all around ear candy. The title track was the big hit on this one, but I again prefer the mellower stuff: 'The Modern Day' (sung by Mick Jones) is the sort of blue collar, relishing in the simple pleasures of life tune that arena rock is supposed to be about while 'Do What You Like' is (shockingly!) jangly and perfectly understated.

Foreigner — 4 (1981)

Probably their biggest album. 'Juke Box Hero' should get any 80's night started off right. There's a bit more of a melodramatic overtone to the songs here and you can definitely hear the album's subsequent influence on the rest of the 80's rock scene in that respect. For a full example of this, see the buildup in 'Break it Up.' 'Waiting for a Girl Like You' is the power ballad here and I must have something wrong with me, because I find something rather appealing about its Fender Rhodes electric piano riff. Another surprising moment is the funk rock and tremelo-obsessed riff of 'Urgent'. Great sax by the one and only Jr. Walker as well. The big moment for me, though, was the weird atmospheric riff of 'Girl on the Moon' which I knew previously in another form. Enjoyable as hell, with that great early late 70's/80's feel in the production sounds.

Cheap Trick — One on One (1982)

Yeah, Cheap Trick was not at their best on this one. This kind person is to be commended for this upload as it gives a slight indicator of just how much the band was going through the motions here. Tom Peterson was gone and Robin Zander sounds like he's trying too hard with his pseudo-tough guy vocals most of the time. The title track is a good Cheap Trick rocker and 'Saturday at Midnight' is such a goofy new waver that it gets by purely on appearance. Side two is a lot stronger (despite 'I Want Be Man') and might make you forget how mediocre side one was. Otherwise, yeah: not their finest moment.

Cheap Trick — Next Position Please (1983)

Eff what you think, this is a darn fine Cheap Trick long player. If I were to continue believing the hype, I would have just lived my life thinking they stopped being good after Dream Police and that would have been that. But no, this Todd Rundgren-produced album is peak period new wave-ish rock from a band that had struggled for a few albums previous. Something should spark in the listener's ears right away when the first track 'I Can't Take it' kicks in: it's jangly, it's layered, it's catchy and it's ultimately an excellent song. When 'Borderline' follows in the same vein, you should be clued in that something is up. The tough-guy rock stance that One on One took is noticeably absent from this entire album. The title track is another richly melodic strummer that finds the band getting critical of consumer philosophy (much in the vein of 'Stiff Competition'), while 'Invaders of the Heart' could be mistaken for an outtake from the first album, if you ask me. Overall, yeah! I never thought I'd dig another Cheap Trick album as much as their initial output, but here it is. The expanded edition from the early 90's (sixteen tracks in total — all worth it, too) is out of print (and subsequently, kind of spendy), but all of the bonus tracks are available for download for a buck a throw on Amazon, so go for it, I say (especially when you're able to find the vinyl in the dollar bin in the first place!). Color me downright pleased.

The Hollies — The Hollies' Greatest Hits (1960's/early 70's)

I'm here as a Graham Nash fan, first and foremost. I find him and his work in the 70's (be it with CSN, just C or on his own) to be extremely underrated and a lot more enduring than a lot of his peers' work. But, also as a 60's music fan in general, when this thing kicked off with 'Bus Stop' I couldn't help but grin ear-to-ear. This the later issue of this compilation from the 70's, so it does include some later songs from after Graham had parted company with the band, but even some of those are darn good. But still, Nash is why I'm here and it's awesome to hear his unmistakable vocal timbre and enunciation on songs like 'Carrie Ann' and especially the godlike mini-masterpiece 'King Midas In Reverse.' Great stuff, especially out of the dollar bin. And nice to finally hear where Nash was coming from, pre-CSN.

Donovan — Barabajagal (1969)

I decided, after hearing a number of his songs in passing and surmising that they kick all kinds of butt, that I've neglected Donovan long enough, thank you very much. I've had that one album that seemed pretty much essential for a few years, but I've not bothered beyond that. Until now. The big revelation here for me is: he's folky! Strummy and jangly, poppy and lyrical. Sheesh, he's a downright songwriter, by gum! 'Where is She?' displays Donovan the balladeer and just goes to that place that I love in 60's pop. And, you know, I should say that I have a serious predisposition to this music. I love the way the snare drum crackles, the way the the bass sounds like an oversized rubberband. You just can't recreate that. 'Atlantis' was the hit off this one and its pure gold. Its seemingly effortless resonance is just a screaming clue to the obvious fact that I should not have been ignoring the guy for this long. And besides, he sounds way too much like Stuart Murdoch at times for me to be able to honestly dislike him.

Donovan — The Hurdy Gurdy Man (1968)

Probably too much of a mixed bag that anybody at the time would really take a step back and understand what Donovan actually did here. It's all here: psychedelic blues rock, strumminess, novelties, folky guy musings. Packed to the brim with thirteen short tracks that find Donovan firing on all cylinders like nobody's business. The highlight here is easily 'Get Thy Bearings' which manages to be pseduo-funky, jazzy and retain that great strummy acoustic base that Donovan used as his launching pad. Understandably underrated, as there were no hits on this one, but that just ensures its enduring quality. Nearly fifty years later and it still sounds great. Right on.

The (English) Beat — Special Beat Service (1983)

Born out of Britain's ska-revival, I have to say that I'm shocked it took me so long to get to these guys. They have so many of the qualities that I love in music. British? Check. New wave-era? Check. Jangly guitars? Check. Slight reggae influence? Check. Introspective tones? Check. When I dropped the needle on this and heard 'I Confess' as the opener, I knew that I had (finally) made the right decision. There's a pop sensibility at play here, so even the band are from England's ska-revival, they have not forgotten the lesson that a great pop tune can teach (see 'Sole Salvation'). 'Save it for Later' is the band's biggest moment for us Americans and, boy oh boy, is it a good one. As a fan of Aztec Camera, Orange Juice and the Clash, I'm surprised that it took me this long to find these guys. Glad I did though. Peak new wave stuff.

Travis — Coming Around (2000)

Non-album single that finds the band finding their voice for the first time. The title track is a tasty R.E.M.-esque twelve-string jangler, complete with chorus harmony vocals. There are two b-sides here as well: 'Just the Faces Change' is an acoustic strummer that finds a rare non-Fran Healy lead vocal while 'The Connection' is the sort of layered, jangly, introspective song that the band has made its calling card over the past decade. I know bands like Crowded House, the Trashcan Sinatras and these guys are not considered "cool" with most Americans, but as long as these guys are able to remain one of the kings of the middle of the road jangle band throne with songs like these, I don't want to be "cool."

Andrew Hill — Dusk (2000)

And then he was back. He would die a few years later, but this album is the one that got most critics and jazz listeners in general used to the fact that Andrew Hill was on the scene and was just as poignant as he was in the 1960's. The title track is the sort of slow, rolling post-bop exploration that Andrew made his calling card. Much too weird to be considered mainstream; much too melodic to be considered avant garde. And such was life for Andrew Hill. This is a strong set of melodies he's working with here and it's nice to hear him wrestle with themes uninterrupted on a tune like 'Tough Love' (though we'll properly address Andrew's solo explorations next time). Overall, not a lot to say outside of how I find it absolutely awesome that he can record an album like this one, thirty five years after he made his initial impact, change nothing about his compositional approach and still manage to sound wholly unique.

Kenny Dorham — Una Mas (1963)

The only album of the Kenny Dorham-Joe Henderson co-leader sessions that I didn't have. Of course, the title track is the sort of Blue Note soul jazz blowing session that made the label famous in the first place. So good, I won't even try to articulate. Just listen and try not to groove along (and then enjoy the hell out of your fail). 'Sao Paulo' is a ridiculously moody post-bopper and just goes to show how daring and uncaring Blue Note was at this point. It's like Miles' second great quintet before they even got there (though Herbie and Tony being in this band certainly helped). I can finally understand why this album has such undisputed classic status. And, besides that, it's a very important chapter in the early years of the Joe Henderson story.

Ike Quebec — Soul Samba (1962)

A glance at the title and the year of release on this one and you may guess that it's a gimmicky cash-in on the bossa nova craze that had America in its grasp at that point. But you're not taking into account that the mighty Ike Quebec is involved. At this point in his career, he could have taken polka and have successfully made it sound like some of the best soul jazz ever. Kenny Burrell is about on guitar and despite the similar pace of the songs and the similarly likable heads of the tunes, you just can't truly hate on something that has this much soul.

Ike Quebec — Heavy Soul (1961)

And again, Ike in the twilight of his career, much like Ben Webster, just hit these unbelievably soulful mid-tempo grooves like it was just nothin'. This one does have the ballads that he became known for in his later years, but it also has these moments of pure badassery that remain unmatched to this day. I often forget about how good he actually is because I've got a spotty cross-section of his discography. But, jesus, he's good. Man oh man. Maybe I should do something about that. . .

The (English) Beat — What is Beat? (early 1980's)

Good overview! As a hits collection, it does its job, but it also serves more than that purpose, as it includes extended 12" mixes of the big hits, non-album singles and even some live tracks towards the end. Can't be mad at their so-silly-it's-great cover of 'Tears of a Clown' or the long mixes. I have to say that the long mix of 'I Confess' surpasses the original for me. Just seems to lend itself to the longer, stretched-out form (thanks for the tablas).

The Byrds — Turn! Turn! Turn! (1966)

Been listening to the Byrds a bit recently and it occurred to me that, besides Notorious Byrd Brothers, I have none of their proper albums. Considering that one of my favorite singers of all time started with them and that they are quite possibly the one definitive American jangle band, I decided that I had no excuse. Had a good opportunity to scoop this one up, so I figured I'd go for it. The title track, overplayed as it might be, is quite simply, one of the greatest pieces of music I've ever heard. It never gets old. However, it was the deeper album cuts that really surprised me: the airily-atmospheric, Gene Clark sung 'If You're Gone' and Roger McGuinn's mind-expanding revision of 'Oh Susannah' clue me in to something that I never would've gotten from a greatest hits collection. I should have known better than to write off their albums for this long.

The Jam — Sound Affects (1980)

I haven't necessarily written the Jam off over the years, I've just been a lot more interested in Paul Weller's angry, but pretentious side. The big hit from this album is the decidedly not punk-sounding 'That's Entertainment' and I still love the song (though I will admit that I was more familiar with this cover than I was the original previously). 'Man in the Corner Shop' is another case for why greatest hits collections aren't representative pieces, as it's clearly the best Jam song I've ever heard that isn't called 'In the City' (although I don't have that whole album either, so I could still be missing something that might trump it). Overall, yeah man, I dig the Jam.

~Austin

What's New?: 12.27.2011

2011-12-27T22:10:00.000-08:00

Andrew Hill — A Beautiful Day (2002)

Pretty decent post-bop, free-leaning stuff. And yeah, I know these are all Andrew's original compositions, but I've never really liked when he got so attached to the horn arrangements, like he does here. Most of the arrangements are dominated by the horn charts, in fact. But when Andrew takes a solo, wowweeee! That rare occurrence on '5 Mo' illustrates just why the man is a legend. It's almost like he deliberately creates these scenarios where he must rebel. The song's head is one of the more chaotic of the bunch here, so he appropriately takes a wandering, melodic solo in the face of otherwise dissonance. He is not up front for most of the proceedings here, but the tunes are all nice, if not a little more leaning towards his more rambunctious side. 'Faded Beauty' and the title track are both the sort of kind of free, mostly just searching tunes that Andrew used to make his own voice. Certainly not his most approachable work, but darn good for the already converted.

Jónsi — We Bought a Zoo (2011)

I've become such a big fan of Jón Þór Birgisson and his band Sigur Rós over the past two years that I am essentially at a clamoring state right now for anything new. I had high expectations for this one, perhaps foolishly. As far as the new material, it is definitely in soundtrack mode, as it essentially sounds like outtakes from what Jónsi does otherwise. Unfinished song ideas that don't sound totally right without the visual accompaniment. But still, it's music written in the style that will be familiar to fans of his previous work, so there's plenty for us dorks to latch onto. Most of the new material is instrumental with fleeting "Oooohhhhh aaahhhhhhh" vocals, but there are a couple of genuine brand new, fully fleshed out tracks here and they're surprisingly lost in the shuffle of the rest of the album. I mean, I like them just as much as anything else here, but they're not completely standouts, y'know? (the tracks in reference here are 'Ævin Endar' and 'Gathering Stories'). Still, even though this music probably serves its purpose quite well in the film —and yet, is somehow disappointing to me as a fan of the musicians creating it— I have to say that this will keep me satisfied for at least a little while. It's not a major revelation —or, indeed, a revelation at all— but it's still darn good. And it definitely has that feeling to it (the one that keeps me coming back to anything with Jón's name on it in the first place).

The Cure — Bestival Live 2011 (2011)

New Cure album and who gives a shit? ME! Because I'm a hardcore fan and I'm clearly who this 2 disc, 32-track, 140-minute behemoth was aimed at. I will keep my comments brief, because it is just a live album after all (despite that it's their first official live album in nearly twenty years and it marks as an account of an official lineup change [Porl Thompson is back out and Roger O'Donnell is back in!]). They sound infinitely better when hitting those earlier songs. Cons: crappy drum sound, predictable hits being played up front, Robert's 'spoken' vocals. Pros: jesus, are they having fun or what?, 'PUSH'!!!!!!!, the whole concept that they just played this show a few hours before I was at this show is somehow awesome to me, all the songs that they haven't played regularly in forever and finally 'THE LOVECATS'!!!!!!! Audience singalong FTW! Seriously, the FREAKING LOVECATS!!! YES!!! Overall, it's nothing that will appeal to anyone except dorks like me, but enjoyable as all hell. The fucking Cure, man. They're one of my favorites for a reason. All profits go to charity, buy it.

Solbakken — Music for Lost (2004)

They are the Mighty Bakk. And I love them. This is probably the Mighty Bakk's most post-rockin' affair, as it's easily their most instrumental album. It's also a soundtrack, so there are a few songs here that I knew previously (namely, 'Entertain the Elderly' and 'House Been Taken' from Klonapet and 'Your Cave' from their In the Fishtank session with the Black Heart Procession). But besides those, everything else was new to me (this is the only album of the Mighty Bakk's that I didn't buy at the time because it was brand new, ungodly expensive and nobody had it). The instrumentals range from short and sweetly bleak vintage numbers ('Hell Impro Insect Outburst' and 'Saloon'), to goofy (the pseudo-rockabilly sendup cover of 'Ring of Fire') to just downright incredible moments ('Birth of a Jumper'). The new vocal songs are dark and gloomy, but with that great injection of catchiness that the Mighty Bakk is just perfect at. If this is to be their last album (which is most likely), it's a strange one, but still exceptionally good. I still find much to go back to on this one, even with the recycled material. They are quickly becoming one of my favorite bands of all time.

~Austin

What's New?: 12.26.2011

2011-12-26T19:52:00.000-08:00

Been slacking off lately, so let's just get right into this one. . .
Bob Dylan — Self Portrait (1970)

I guess if you believe rumors and Bob's own whimsical soundbites, this album was supposed to be bad. Sure, it's not up to the standards he had established for himself, but I don't really see how anyone who likes albums like John Wesley Harding, Nashville Skyline and New Morning (a personal favorite of mine) can truly dislike this one. At two records, containing plenty of covers and even some questionable live performances, it is a bit intimidating. But how can you argue with songs like the drunken rockout 'The Mighty Quinn' or the almost pastoral 'All the Tired Horses'? Sure, it essentially sounds like Bob clearing his vaults from his preceding two or three albums, but when you're as good as Bob Dylan was during these years, even your "crap" is listenable. Not a masterpiece, but certainly not deserving of its bad reputation.

Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era 1965-1968

Seriously good stuff. Some people call it psych, some call it garage, I just think it's a good 60's pop by bands that had no idea they were capable of being accessible. The kickoff track is the enduring classic 'I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night)' by the Electric Prunes, so that's just an absolute perfect way to start a compilation like this. I knew that one already, but the rest of the album had some real surprises for me; biggest of which was the moddy 'Don't Look Back' by the Remains (hailing from Boston!) is just about in my songs of the year list. Elsewhere, enjoyable Beatles and Bob Dylan knockoffs show up respectively in the Knickerbockers' 'Lies' and Mouse's 'A Public Execution' and I find these little oddities to be pure fun. There's covers too: the Leaves take an appropriately acid-soaked stab at Jimi's 'Hey Joe' while the Mojo Men seemingly try to bubblegum it up on a take of the mighty Buffalo Springfield's 'Sit Down I Think I Love You.' Overall, it's twenty seven tracks: all killer, no filler. How could it be anything else when it's the compilation that has birthed a series of boxsets?

Pink Floyd — A Nice Pair (1967/1968)

Just the albums Piper at the Gates of Dawn and A Saucerful of Secrets together as a two record album. No problems there. Piper is, of course, British psychedelic madness and a far cry from the Floyd as many would come to know them five years later. Not better or worse; just vastly different. I used to have it on CD years ago, but I honestly can't remember what happened to it (how appropriate). Mr. Gilmour was not yet in the band at that point and it's hard not to listen to it now and not hear it as totally "trippy man." Good tunes though, for sure. 'Lucifer Sam' manages to have a killer bassline, be totally psychedelic without getting carried and it's a great pop tune all simultaneously. 'Interstellar Overdrive' is pretty much the band at its most arty, and boy do I love it. Full disclosure time: 'Bike' has always been the clear highlight of this for me. A total goof of a song, I don't care; listen to all the wacky stuff in the arrangements. Musically, it's just silly and completely disregards all conventions, while acknowledging just about all of them within a time frame of less than four minutes. Secrets, the band's second proper album and record two of this collection, however, was completely new to me. And I must be a bad person, because I prefer it. Maybe it's still the freshness factor at this point, but it feels less gimmicky. I like how the is more sparse as well. It's just as trippy as Piper, but among the tempos of the actual tunes and the more nuanced production (which emphasizes the atmospherics of the keyboards), it just has a more "complete" sound to me. 'Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun' is just excellent if you ask me (and it makes me think of Tangerine Dream more than a little bit — a good two years before they released their first album, too!). The title track is dark and sounds like a bad trip, but it's twelve minutes of artsy brilliance in the long run. 'See-Saw' looks ahead to the future, while 'Jugband Blues' is Syd Barrett's lone contribution to the album. Probably his best song on a Floyd album, ever. Fantastic stuff.

Squeeze — Babylon and On (1987)

The gratuitous 80's sax all over the opener 'Hourglass' should be a clue as to what Squeeze was up to here. Certainly past their prime, but not without enough good tunes to overcome the cheesy production of the day. So, yeah. Despite the really cheesy production, the band still has some choons left in them. Nothing life changing, but darn good rewarding fun for an 80's dork like me. Other nice ones on here are 'Cigarette of a Single Man' and the lyrically weird 'Some Americans' (a good indicator of why the band never truly made it over here, perhaps?).

Squeeze — Cosi Fan Tutti Frutti (1985)

This is a good snapshot of a new wave band trying to stay afloat in the mid-80's and failing nobly. Still good tunes buried beneath all the overproduction ('Last Time Forever' for instance would be a great song under another presentation). The closer is the hilariously titled 'I Won't Ever Go Drinking Again (?)' and it's a completely weird dub-reggae riddim-laced, puzzle-esuqe jangler with a nearly ragtime piano break. Admirable as it may be for a band to try so much in the face of overproduction, it's a good zeitgeist for the whole album as it feels like they're trying too hard most of the time.

Squeeze — Sweets From a Stranger (1982)

When the album starts out with a very Devo-esque drum machine and synthesizer riff on 'Out of Touch' and then explodes into one of those incredibly swooping classic Squeeze vocal hooks, you should be at 'Aww hellzz yeeeaahh!!' status. It's one of the best (and most underrated) tunes. The rest of the album is not quite as good as East Side Story or Argybargy, but it hangs right in there with the band's initial run of early classics. 'Black Coffee in Bed' was the big hit from this one and I still love that song, no matter how many times I hear it. There are some classic-sounding Squeeze new wavers like 'I've Returned' and 'I Can't Hold On' that are just great pop tunes, while the closer 'Elephant Ride' is among the band's best tunes. And, overall, I have hard time thinking that a fan of the albums that preceded it wouldn't get completely into this one as well (I certainly did!).

Chris Squire — Fish Out of Water (1975)

Yep, the Rickenbacker bass playing guy from Yes. With Bill Bruford on drums, similar song structures to Yes and Chris' very Jon Anderson-esuqe vocal timbre, it's pretty much a sure shot for fans of any Yes albums up to (and including) Topographic Oceans. Seriously, listen to how much he sounds like Jon Anderson on the album's first two tracks. It does have that great pastoral, world-within-a-world feel of the best Yes material and I really just dig it. At times, it does play like the great lost Yes album, just because of the way it sounds. A funky backbeat melds into very jazz-fusiony improvisation on 'Lucky Seven' while the orchestrated, several movement epic 'Safe (Canon Song)' is the best Yes song that never was. Extremely good stuff for fans of 70's Yes (which is why I'm here, obviously).

Love — Love (1966)

Epic dollar bin win! Not sure why this was in there, but I question nothing when it comes to the dollar bin. I've slowly been getting into Love over the past couple years, but this first album has eluded me for some time. Finally have it and I have to say, boy do they sound like the Byrds! I love that, especially since they're a little more garage-y and weird. But that wonderful jangle is there at the base of it all. The bulk of the material here captures that longing melancholy that the best 60's possesses and, truly, it's all the better for it. 'A Message to Pretty' sums up the band's perfect synthesis of folk rock earthiness, kitschy penchants in their songwriting and the amateur garage-y playing. Love it. Elsewhere 'My Flash on You' just plain rocks while 'Softly to Me' is arguably the band's best song ever. Classic material. Hard to think that they actually created a more well-rounded and complete album than this one.

~Austin

What's New?: 11.29.2011

2011-11-29T18:25:00.001-08:00

Mainly a batch of re-acquisitions, with a couple of new-to-me things. . .

Biff Bang Pow! — Oblivion (1987)

Vintage British jangle from the peak of the whole thing. It's not a very breathtaking album, but it sure is danged good. It's just like all good 80's jangle bands: sounds like it could have come from the sixties, but has that nostalgic (for me) 80's sheen in the production. I would definitely liken this to bands like the Field Mice or even Belle and Sebastian. It was Alan McGee's main band before he decided to step out of the spotlight and sign bands like Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine to his label (and then there was that one group from Manchester that he signed a little later). Overall, ten songs, barely thirty minutes and not a bad one in the bunch. Pure pop, pure jangle. Just being who I am, I'd have a hard time not liking it, honestly.

Karate — Cancel/Sing (2002)

Karate, in retrospect, is just "post"-fucking-everything. Post-punk, post-rock, post-hardcore, post-jazz, post-prog — you name the genre, they're recontextualizing the everloving snot out of it. This became more into focus when they released their fourth album Unsolved in 2000 (John Pruett, you're a dick and it obviously went completely over your head). By the time the band released this two song, twenty-six minute EP two years later, it just seemed to make sense that the band would release something that would otherwise be classified as a sound labyrinth. 'Cancel' seems to be the song that people recognize from this one, and it's a fine piece. Lulling and doodly guitar fun until Geoff Farina finally hits his fuzz pedal about six minutes in and then it goes into the technical wizardry that the band became known for. The droney, Can-esque textures achieved in the middle portion are fun. 'Sing' on the other hand, is arguably the band's best song. It starts off as another rambling noodle of a song, but when it finally gets going, Geoff Farina's finest set of lyrics will open itself up to reveal one of the finest songs I've ever heard in celebration of music. Using music as a coping mechanism for the stresses of everyday life is something I'm sure everyone can relate to (top lyric: "If Crass called the Clash, 'the Cash', then my stash would make them laugh, because even real injustice just makes me want to sing"). The build-up is natural, fluid and exhilarating and the last five minutes of the tune are arguably the best thing the band ever put to tape. The final two minutes are especially good. And, if nothing else, it's a rare moment of purely rocking out in the band's later material.

Karate — Some Boots (2002)

This was the first new album by the band that came out after I became a fan, so it's nice to finally have it back in my collection. It pretty much continues in the vein of Unsolved, uninterrupted. That album and this one are actually pretty interchangeable. The only big difference is that Geoff Farina favors his noisier, fuzzier, more distorted guitar tone on all of the songs here. But still, he plays all of those rhythmic, comping parts in that deliciously jangly tone. There are hints of the expanded textures and long buildups that the Cancel/Sing EP hinted at (the dubby, psychedelic time signature maze in the second half of 'Original Spies' is a fine example of how the band was able to abridge their explorations on that EP into an equally as listenable six minute song). Longer form songs dominate, as only two of the album's nine tracks are less than five minutes. But still, I might say this is arguably the most representative album the band ever made (either this one or pockets). The screeching, disjointed guitar workout that is 'In Hundreds' sounds like Second Edition-era PIL, in absolutely the best way that someone possibly could have in 2002. My favorite Karate song is 'Airport' and 'Remain Relaxed' is one of the band's best ballads and both are on here, so yeah. It was my summer soundtrack in 2002. Total winner.

Solbakken — Pinanti (1999)

Solbakken. Jesus christ. Fucking Solbakken. First things first: I used to have fucking all of their albums. All of them. You know, those ones that you don't see anywhere on any American webstores? The ones that are expensive, even on European websites? Those ones you can't even find on illegal downloads when you search blogs for hours on end? Yeah, I had all of those. Why, you might ask, did I get rid of them? Because, my friend, I am a very stupid man. A very, very stupid man. My first introduction to Solbakken were two songs on one of Konkurrent's In the Fishtank albums: 'A Taste of You and Me' (sung by bassist Klaas Schippers) and 'Your Cave' (sung by guitarist Empee Holwerda). I was big into the Black Heart Procession at the time, but those two songs —obviously being Solbakken's contribution to the sessions— made me take a step back and realize just how much better this unknown band was than the band I had purchased the record for in the first place. It had a chilly, Nordic quality. Like kind of Kraut rock, but more soulful. Sigur Rós, if they just rocked all the time. The band just sounds like the weirdest, Euro-centric hybrid of a Sonic Youth-y noise rock combo, but more concerned with tunefulness. A post-rock band, but more concerned with poppy hooks. A super technical math rock band, but more concerned with moods. I've come to conclusion that absolutely no description will ever do. They just don't sound like anyone else I've ever heard. As for this album, it's the band's second, and such it's a little more raw than they would ultimately become. But still, the layers and mini-movement, song-within-a-song feeling that a good chunk of the material has here definitely points the way towards their future achievements. It is a bit more unpolished, so a song like 'Montana Tiger' that is otherwise a rather interesting little tune, comes off kind of ramshackle (but is a bit charming because of that). Some songs like the Joy Division-esque numbers 'Youth Camps' and especially 'Four Sundays Left' are so dense and utilize so much low end dynamics that you may forget that it's just three guys in the band (indeed, Klaas slips in some chords at times to make the otherwise grey tunes a little bit more colorful — which isn't to say that the shade of grey as portrayed here isn't magnificent; because it is). The couple usages of sitar throughout and the slant towards isolated lyrics (an ongoing theme in the band's whole catalogue) make for a really out of place sounding mini-masterpiece. It's mostly Empee's album, as he sings about 80% of it and overall, it strikes me as what post-punk should have evolved into (and considering that Klaas and Empee have longstanding roots in the Dutch new wave scene, dating back to the mid-80's, this is no surprise).

Solbakken — Klonapet (2003)

I've played this album for fans of many different styles of rock music and they all agree: it rocks. This is a godlike masterpiece. Jelle Buma had been sitting in on drums since their previous album Zure Botoa and I've long had a theory about a band needing that right feel behind the drums for them to completely fulfill their potential. Klonapet is just pure brilliance for all of its fourty one minutes. I did not include it in my best of the decade wrap-up because I had foolishly traded in the band's entire catalogue (you're welcome to whoever scored them all at Amoeba in Berkeley) and I felt like there was too much distance between me and the last time I had heard it to genuinely get behind it. Revisiting now, it's easily among my albums of the 2000's decade — and probably among my favorite albums ever. 'Love Interest' is one of the most perfectly weird pop songs I've ever heard. It was offered as a free download on the band's (now non-existent) website and I played it on repeat for hours in those days when I awaited that package from Norway. What's actually pretty surprising about this album is that, besides Klaas taking most of the lead vocals, there is a slant towards an angular, metallic attack in the sound of the guitars. If you take the final movements in songs like 'Entertain the Elderly' and 'Space Bordello' and listen to them outside of the context of the rest of their respective songs, you may try to peg the band as some sort of nu-metallers. Things like the trumpet on 'Relaxing Yourself to Death' or the marimba on 'Dung', however, moot that entire statement. The instrumental 'Mickey' points the band directly towards the 'post-rock' section, while 'Small and Evil Hole' sounds like the Pentangle floating in space. So, it's another confusing affair to be sure. But, it's completely solid. I love this album. It's a stone cold modern day classic. I just wish more people knew who they were.

Kanipchen-Fit — Multibenefit (2010)

Wish I hadn't been such a miser on this one last year, because it's actually really damn good. It's Empee Holwerda from Solbakken, his wife (?) poet/artist Gloria Williams and a drum machine (although, the band's website features three early very Solbakken-esque demo recordings from 2005-ish with Jelle Buma on drums — click on 'news' to listen). I guess the main thing on display here is Empee's guitar playing, because, as most of this album was seemingly recorded live, he colors the songs with all kinds of textures and dynamics that you can only sit back and marvel at (not to mention that Solbakken fans will recognize his tone instantly). The layers and resonance of songs like 'Radio Torture' and 'Pay More' are just striking when you consider that it's only one guitar, one drum machine and two voices creating the music. The themes on this album lyrically are more overtly political than anything Solbakken has done, but I'll be darned if I don't get that great isolated Solbakken vibe from songs like 'Vodka Rescue Team,' 'Pay More' and 'Rainfall.' Overall, not a complete masterpiece, but it's an update in the Solbakken story that I didn't see coming. If the band is no more, this is a new direction, but a promising one.

~Austin

Jónsi — Go Live

2011-11-25T20:10:00.000-08:00

I guess consider me rather late on this one, as it has been available on his website since late last year. But, you know what? It's not how long it takes you to get there that matters, it's what you see when you do that does.

And, boy oh boy, I see many things.

Just ignoring the fact right up front that the entire first half of this album is one of the quietest, most reserved and downright spiritual pieces of live music I've ever heard, I will say that it feels like pure giddy triumph when he bursts into a piece of totally rare stage chatter after the whole thing and the opening glitchy sampled vocal loop of 'Godo' begins and the crowd, subsequently, finally relents and there are some genuine and very audible 'WHOOOOO!!!!!'s to be heard (amidst a clap-a-long, of course — yes, it gives me chills).

Now, I liked Go. It sounded exactly like I hoped it would: reminiscent of Sigur Rós, but with more of a poppier slant and a sort of streamlined approach to the band's music. Nine songs; none in great excess of the five minute marker and all with a nice layer of post-production and a delightful sheen that was neither kitschy nor over the top. And yet, it left something to be desired.

(in a good way, but I digress)

But this guy right here?

He's a bit of different beast altogether.

Where Go felt very much like a knee-jerk reaction against his band's never ending funereal pace, Go Live is just as much an affirmation of that kickback as it is a reassurance that Jón Þór Birgisson, as the frontman of one of the most unique and important bands of the past decade —the singer and guitarist as most of his listening audience knew him prior to his solo album— is still very much the artist and the man that made them love him in the first place.

As you can see above, the album wears a sticker that boasts five new songs among its contents and they are very much more along the Sigur Rós brand of Jónsi's repertoire, filling out the album's spiritually (and revelatory) calm first half; not only with compilation tape fodder but with genuine and true SONGS that make this a rare case where the live album bests its studio counterpart. The performances are great, sure. But it's the sequencing here that sets this one apart from the rest.

As I said above, the slow and quiet bunch is packed up front. Starting with the nearly solo acoustic "new" song 'Stars in Still Water', the album begins on this somnambulist, nearly pastoral thirty-seven minute meditation of ballads and, predictably, it's the perfect soundtrack for watching slideshows of aurora borealis (that is, unless you can watch the real thing in person). The third track is 'Icicle Sleeve.' Easily on par with the best of anything Jón has previously done, it's definitely the highlight of this album for me. As the song seamlessly segues into 'Kolniður,' everything comes fully into focus: this is no toss-off of a live album. This is the real deal.

Capturing the musician in a venerable stage of unsureness, presenting the new songs to an audience unfamiliar of the material but familiar with the musician's new (yet, unheard) direction is a rare thing these days. Hell, people with the stature of Sigur Rós rarely even play b-sides, not to mention completely unheard material. It makes the opening five song suite as heard on Go Live extra special as, not only do the songs flow flawlessly, the audience is on Jón's side the whole way. And it's a little redemptive to hear someone present so immaculately such definitive versions of the songs. New or familiar; doesn't matter. The familiar songs had emotional aspects to them before, but with the new songs and the intimately perfected familiar ones, these are all the most poignant recorded renditions of the tunes.

And when those uptempo numbers kick in on 'Godo,' it's just complete chills. He just poured his soul out to complete strangers and now it's time to dance a bit, okay?

Man.

The anticipatory between song claps, the chorus to 'Animal Arithmetic' sung in Icelandic, the extra long, noisy (noticeably Sigur Rós-esque) coda to the closer 'Grow Till Tall'; it all feels very celebratory, very rewarding.

I liked Go.

I absolutely love Go Live.

It harkens back to a time in rock music when a live album was supposed to be a statement within of of itself — a unique entity that was more than just a complimentary piece.

Far more than just "recommended if you like", Go Live is the definitive account of Jónsi as a solitary unit outside of Sigur Rós. He is a unique and infinitely intriguing musician on his own; this album has plenty of evidence.

The accompanying DVD isn't too shabby, either, presenting nearly all of the songs on the audio half in alternate recordings and professionally shot.

The stuff that I keep listening to music for.

Go Live can be purchased from Jónsi.com

~Austin

King Krule — King Krule EP

2011-11-08T20:00:00.000-08:00

What do you say about a release like this?

Every once in a while, something comes along that just doesn't fit. Sure, it may not sound totally revolutionary in the bigger picture, but when the context is considered, it just seems wrong.

Before going any further, I should point out the main thing: this young man is only seventeen.

He does not have a good singing voice. He does, however, have one of the most refreshing songwriting talents I've heard come out of Britain in recent years. Where the country's music still seems to be mostly planted in the looming shadow of Brit-pop's rockstar obsessed smartass culture, Archy Marshall looks completely inward and towards his heart for direction. As a teenager in post-post-Thatcher Britain, it seems like he's just disappointed with an outlook that simply accepts one's unsure surroundings while trying to continue forth life as a regular human being.

Oh, and he has incredible tunes, too.

I mean, honestly, I've not heard a stronger argument in a long time for the side of "Well, some people are just naturally born with talent."

The thing the dominates all of the EP's thirteen minutes is the fantastically jangly tone of Marshall's guitar. Sure, there is some post-production and whatnot that adds heavier reverb and a slight hint of noise to the songs, but ultimately, his jangly guitar is right up front next to his out of key baritone vocals.

And his words are just as important as anything else here. Truly, he sounds like a man at least twice his actual age. While the dramatics may take you to the edge of sadness while realizing that a person so young has lived and seen more than anyone his age should have, you will find a twisted redemption in his ability to articulate.

A song like 'Portrait in Black and Blue' simply doesn't make sense coming from a seventeen year old. But, somehow, there it is. The opening instrumental '36N63' and the short track 'Lead Existence' pack more maturity in their collective three minutes than some other bands have been yet to achieve after several albums of material.

The closing track 'The Noose of Jah City' is clearly the highlight and the most unique thing here. Amidst a sparse (but affecting) Fender Rhodes chord progression, light guitar arpeggio and simple drum loop, the song builds into a thing of sheer beauty. Its meaning is a bit unsure, but it ultimately seems to be about finding nothing but disappointment in a burgeoning world to a young mind. This sort of thing might be tedious under certain circumstances, but in Marshall's world, this is the foundation on which inspiration can build a masterpiece. I can't stop playing it.

If nothing else, the whole thing reminds me of early Aztec Camera in the best possible way.

Exponential potential.

~Austin

PS— Marshall's early recordings from last year under the name Zoo Kid can be found here. They are just as good (if not a bit more rough).

Back to basics.

2011-11-08T18:42:00.000-08:00

As my first true musical love, hip hop showed me that no idea is original. No matter how great I thought beats by DJ Premier, Pete Rock, Large Professor, DJ Shadow or Jay Dee were, there were very high chances that the beats were sampled from someone else' song. My mind was blown by many songs, for many years. But ultimately, I got used to it.

By the time I became a Radiohead fan and found out that one of my favorite songs of theirs was a sample, I knew that it was game up.

Everything was fair. Nothing was really that surprising anymore.

Sure, it was still fun to track down and hear those songs that had been borrowed from, but I didn't really take inspiration from that exchange like I used to.

Until now.

It never occurred to me until last week that it was very strange that the song title 'Heirloom' on Björk's Vespertine showed up as 'Crabcraft' when I imported the album into my iTunes.

I did some research, asked around and finally came up with this:

For reference, here's 'Heirloom.'

I don't know why this has taken me aback as much as it has. Maybe it's the image I had held up in my own mind of Vespertine as this singular masterpiece that was created in a fleeting momentary rush of emotion that came completely from within Björk's heart and mind

But, no.

Even masterpieces as unique-sounding as Vespertine even have their pre-existing seeds of inspiration.

~Austin

What's New?: 10.25.2011

2011-10-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

Picking up on something I should have returned to years ago. . .

Thurston Moore — Demolished Thoughts (2011)

It's a damn shame that it took Kim and Thurston announcing their separation for me to finally get this album. I knew about it earlier in the year, but I just kept saying, "I'll get it next time" when I stepped into the record store. So, up front: yes, it's very mellow. Mellower even than Trees Outside the Academy. I loved Trees, plain and simple. It was a nearly shocking breath of fresh air at the time and it just felt for me like yet another sign of the great creative rebirth of all things Sonic Youth. The influence of Neil Young loomed large over that album. And (to continue that metaphor) if it was undeniably Crazy Horse in its sound, this one, while still retaining Neil's unavoidable influence, is a bit more Stray Gators. The string and harp accompaniment, the complete absence of electric guitars and the production and assistance touches of one Beck Hansen all add up to, hands down, the mellowest thing Thurston has ever stamped his name on. Truly, I have a hard time thinking anybody who liked Trees and that hears this will dislike it. The two albums almost play like complimentary pieces. The most Sonic Youth-y things get is on the centerpiece 'Orchard Street', which floats and strums its way into a very familiarly jammy territory for Youth fans (although, just played on acoustic guitars and, uhm. . . harps). 'Space' is clearly the best thing here. It's a long, dreamy meditation on private universes and the possibilities that could be. The string arrangements are decidedly in Sea Change territory and I can't say I'm anything other than absolutely pleased that the collaboration between Thurston and Beck yielded at least one thing I completely wanted to hear. The whole thing just becomes even more poignant and sad in the wake of the author's separation from his partner of 20+ years. It's one of those bittersweet musical triumphs. One that is just pure beauty on the surface, but with a bit of behind the scenes knowledge, it becomes an absolutely emotionally wrenching affair that I, as the listener, can only take a step back and marvel at the courage of the whole thing.

For Against — Black Soap EP (1984/2010)

Great to hear these very early recordings of one of the best American new wave bands ever. Things are very much in the early 80's post-punk vein here, as this basically documents the band's first serious trip to a recording studio (in 1984 — these recordings weren't properly released until 2010). The title track is a very short, angular, punky piece that manages to be punk and psych at the same time. And so, here it all is: what I've been searching for has been in front of my face all along (more on this later). 'Black Good Friday' follows suit and, if nothing else, previews the For Against sound that was to come. It's 'Amen Yves' (here sub-titled 'White Circles') that really puts forth that the band was completely special. A totally stock Factory Records sound is conjured up amidst a fantastically dreamy drum machine and bass synth groove that could fill the snobbiest of rock club dance floors. Totally ace. Scary to think they were this good this early. Short, but sweet!

For Against — In the Marshes (1984-1987)

This was actually recorded in the years noted, but not released until 1990. Again, pretty stunning stuff for an American band at the time. I'd say only the Mission of Burma had come this close to sounding nearly as genuinely bleak as their British counterparts (and that's a compliment to everyone involved). And yeah, I bring that up because the band still sounds totally stuck on their British influences (not that this is a bad thing, just limiting). The glorious wonderful gloominess that is 'Amen Yves' appears twice in two versions that are even more Factory Records-obsessed than the Black Soap version (and again, this is not necessarily a bad thing). Overall, it sounds like a band trying to find their voice. And, for a band that had so much greatness ahead of them, the potential is just blossoming.

For Against — Echelons (1986)

One of the great lost classics of the American new wave. It sums up 'tiny metropolis' living pretty well within the first track. Indeed, 'Shine' says it all: "I've had this idea, I've had it for a while: blow this town to smithereens. Yeah, that would be my style. Does that answer your question?" Growing up in an isolated, tiny metropolis myself in the early 90's, I can definitely relate. What follows is almost like the American Unknown Pleasures. A set of nine absolutely perfect bass driven, jangly songs that seem to be so fast because the band is so nervous. The grasp on atmospherics that the band had at this point is downright jaw dropping. Case in point: the way 'It's a Lie' develops from solo bass to an absolutely gloom-ridden wall of sound is just impressive. The band's first official single receives a reprise here on 'Autocrat' and it's another highlight. An angular bass riff and many fancy guitar pedal showcases by Harry Dingman atop a singular lyric of "Yeah, that's right: that's the way it is" by singer/bassist Jeffrey Runnings and the deal is sealed. 'Forget Who You Are' is a strikingly resonating rant against the record industry, but musically it sounds as faithfully Joy Division-esque as the best of any of their British peers. The album ends with the longburning, slow-developing 'Broke My Back' which is just as good and as gloomily wonderful as anything the Cure or the Sisters of Mercy could have churned out at the same time. I guess my point here is: this band was surely inspired by all the late-70's British new wave greats — but so were all their British contemporaries at the time of this album's release. Why should they be considered second tier because they were not British? They were using the same source material for their thesis as their British counterparts — and they did just as well, if not better. I initially bought this album about ten years ago during my tenure at the local used record store. I followed a recommend from the Chameleons website and happened to find an original vinyl copy of the album at work. I listened, loved it and thought nothing more of it. I surely read Jack Rabid's glowing reviews of the band's newer material in the Big Takeover over the years and just said to myself that one day I would go back to them. I just decided to go for it and order everything that Words on Music had available the other day. I doubled up on this copy of Echelons because it just felt right.

For Against — December (1988)

A lot of folks have gone out of their way to declare this the best of the For Against catalogue. And, as much I have to agree that it is certainly an exemplary work, it just isn't a standout in the bigger picture. I purchased this one on digital download way back when (not long after I scored my Echelons vinyl) and perhaps it was the reason for my lesser enthusiasm about the band. If it was the best they had done, maybe I was on the wrong track. I definitely liked it; then and now. But, I don't know. It has a bit of staleness to it. (I lost it, along with lots of other music I only had digitally over a year ago when an external drive crashed) The best songs are better than anything on Echelons (mostly looking at 'Sabres', 'Clandestine High Holy' and 'Stranded in Greenland' here), but the rest is just nice filler. A lot of the songs feel like they go on for too long and the tempo is slowed down a little too much (I mean, I found it great that they played so fast on the first album; illusions of being a punk band were nothing if not totally entertaining at that point for them). Throughout all of that though, Jeffrey Runnings' lyrics are quite nearly the best they've ever been. He captures an isolated, lonely feeling so well, so many times throughout the album that it's hard to believe these weren't the first set of lyrics he'd ever written (they sound naive enough, but affecting enough to be). A worthy follow up to Echelons in the bigger picture, but just not as good.

For Against — Coalesced (2002)

It's like so many of my own personal music-listening potentials, fulfilled and shattered in one gloriously jangly melancholy swoop. I've never heard this album until now. All the same, it strikes me as clearly the band's best work. And this is strange, as it features only one of the group's original members: bassist/singer Jeffrey Runnings. It's a lot more jangly than their 80's work, but it retains that same feeling of introspective isolation that only seems to genuinely occur to those of us that are landlocked for extended periods (the album cover photo, which crops a bundle of wheat inside an ocean blue square is very telling). Runnings returns to bass for the first time since December and maybe it was that that was the spark to his output. His lyrics are inwardly looking, but not down. Indeed, every song here has a retrospective slant that feels more redemptive than it does depressing. This is music of personal revelation. The excellently jangly backdrop (handled by Steven Hinrichs) is the perfect complement to the lyrics here. It finds that majestic balance between overtly self-indulgent mush and truly resonating art. Runnings seems like he can't say anything that's not profound when he blurts out in his boyish croon gems like, "Nothing this bad can ever last" and "Intangible things don't mean too much: isn't that sad?" I love this album. And, most of all, it fulfills the research I set out —when I decided that new wave was the genre for me and that I needed more sparsely jangly albums like the Cure's Seventeen Seconds in my life— and it just feels like epic redemption for me as a music fan after hearing it this far into my life and getting as much out of it as I am. And, for the band that created it, it's also an absolute triumph. It sounds like nothing else. There are shades of moods of the bands that inspired it, but there are no direct lines of influence to be heard. For an American band to accomplish such a feat just makes me feel great. It's a strummy, layered, mature, introspective and rewarding masterpiece from a band that seemed poised to make such a record all along. That they actually did and that it's actually better than the records from what most people would consider to be their peak period is just shocking. Jesus, it's good.

For Against — Shade Side Sunny Side (2008)

This one was hailed as a serious return to form at the time, mostly because original guitarist Harry Dingman was back on board. I like it. It's a bit more rockin' than I'm used to for these guys (the gratuitous distortion on songs like 'Glamour' and 'Aftertaste' just don't sound right). 'Why Are You So Angry?' has shades of Coalesced and it's definitely a favorite. The music on this album is very reflective of the stark, white on sparse black cover. It definitely has that quiet/loud dynamic going on. Songs like the piano-led 'Game Over' are just about as bleak as anything the band has ever done, while the closer 'Irresistible' turns all of Runnings' seemingly inward-focused anger over the years at an actual target and the results are just downright chilling. Overall, it sounds exactly like the sort of music that two-thirds of the original band should be making at this point.

For Against — Never Been (2009)

Striking again quickly, Jeff and Harry put out this even better album with a new drummer (Nicholas Buller, who had replaced Paul Englehard). Granted, it doesn't truly get off the ground until track two on the flat out gorgeous 'Different Departures', it's nothing but the sky from that point onward. The band has backed away from it's unnecessarily aggressive stance on the previous album, and back into the more subdued and sublime territory of Coalesced. Take for example the post-rock leaning instrumentals 'Black Willows', 'Per Se' and 'The Tenebrists' and you know something new is awry. 'Specificity' is an absolute classic in the band's playbook at this point. This album just seems to continue in the mature jangle sound that they started on Coalesced, and it's nearly as good. The closer 'You Fade' is a dark, cascading wall of dynamics and it's capped off back Runnings' confession that "It's always been this way for. . . like a thief who's fled the scene, you fade away from memory." Fantastic stuff. Especially for a band who may have been seen as a second tier act all along. It's nice to know that, yes, they were that good all along. And they've been here all along. Just waiting for your (re)discovery.

Also, as a side note, Oakland band Broken Cities is giving their album away for free. It's definitely in the post-rock vein of things. It reminds me very much of Sigur Rós without a singer. Been digging it a lot recently. Check it out; it's free after all.

~Austin

What's New?: 10.15.2011

2011-10-15T20:14:00.000-07:00

AHHHHH!!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!! NOT THE DREADED GENESIS!!!!!!!!!

Yes, it's quite true: I bought Genesis records. Let's talk about them. . .

Genesis — Foxtrot (1972)

Well, I guess if this is as good as Genesis ever got (which is the general consensus, reading over reviews sites across the internet), I guess I like Genesis pretty darn well. Even still, they do have a sense of second tier-ishness about them to me. I don't know what it is, but I can't connect fully and completely. But, gosh dang if there aren't passages of sheer outright beautiful awesomeness littered all throughout their music; a concentration of which whose percentage is rather high on this album. I mean, the first two minutes of the starter 'Watcher of the Skies' is just pure organ and synth blissout. The way it morphs so perfectly into the actual song is a pretty magical moment. The whole song has a lighter than air feel to it and the constant shift of the dynamics only enhances the triumphant feeling it also possesses. Maybe it's the Yes fanboy in me, but I instantly noticed a nick from the chord sequence of 'Time and a Word' in 'Time Table', but I still like the song, so there. I think what really appeals to me about the band's early material, most of all, is the British folk aspect that is present. At any given point, these complex and labyrinthine songs can break down to these bare bones acoustic riffs that are just heaven. Case in point, here, is obviously the ninety second long instrumental 'Horizons' which has such melodic originality to it, while still retaining hints of classical-mindedness, that I just sit back and marvel at how good it is. The by then status-quo sidelong, twenty two minute prog-rock symphony 'Supper's Ready' is appropriately dense and nearly impenetrable if you just pay attention to Peter Gabriel's (still thought provoking) lyrics. But the guitar and keyboard work throughout the song by (collectively) Tony Banks, Steve Hackett and Mike Rutherford is just excellent. I'm not a Phil Collins apologist, however. His drumming is merely adequate, but it does do the job, so there you have it. Overall, it definitely strikes me as simultaneously the album you play for people who hate Genesis and/or prog. Because it certainly contains the best and/or most accessible moments of both.

Travis — Side EP (2001)

Travis b-sides; now we're talking! The title track here is a longtime favorite of mine by the band; a surprisingly Cure-ish little thing that jangles during the verses and explodes with an grand swoop during the choruses — isn't that why I love them in the first place? (rhetorical answer: of course) The three b-sides here are a mixed bag. The studio track 'Ancient Train' finds the band filtering their sound through a nearly Bob Dylan-esque Americana twang and sense of irony. Can't say I saw that one coming; but darned if it ain't great. The other two tracks are live performances. 'Driftwood' is taken on and finds it to be more crowd singalong than actual Fran vocals. I do love hearing when a band has the crowd on its side, but it doesn't necessarily merit repeat plays. The final live song is a cover of Bowie's 'All the Young Dudes' and it's just pure fun. Fran can't hit all the high notes and it's pretty obvious, but the band clearly loves playing the song, so it's one of those rare cover tunes that gets by on pure vibes, despite how mediocre the actual reading may be. Fun stuff; always nice to hear more by these guys.

The Horrors — Primary Colours (2009)

After really loving Skying it was hard for me not to wonder just exactly where the hell these guys came from. With this album, question answered: they have been convincingly faithful revivalists for several years, apparently. This album is just noisier, that's all (take in a five second preview of every track here and you will mostly get squalling feedback and distortion. From the swirling, gooey, reverb-drenched guitars that dominate 'Three Decades' and the title track, to the incredible 'Scarlet Fields' and the stunning closer 'Sea Within a Sea' (both of which sound like Mark Burgess singing over outtakes from the Cure's Pornography), it's clear that this band has done their homework and that they are not just a revival group. Like I said of Skying: this just makes me think the band is less of a revivalist group and more of a genuine "apostle" of the sound. It just feels natural with these guys. And sheesh, they are incredible songwriters.

Prince — Mountains/Alexa de Paris (1986)

Sure, 'Mountains' —as far as its structure and overall tone— is essentially unchanged from the album version, but this is the epic ten minute extended version. Completely worth it on its own, as it features the Revolution, in peak form, just jammin' out. It's a rare moment of Prince actually releasing something that justifies all those bootlegs (I mean, there's a reason people wanted to hear more, right?). The b-side is the instrumental 'Alexa de Paris' and while it is a bit more guitar jammy than I generally prefer, it is Prince just wailing away, Jimi Hendrix or Eddie Hazel style. Really good stuff for Parade-obssessives like me.

Genesis — Trespass (1970)

Well, hey there, this is darn good, isn't it? I mean, I still have no clue what Peter Gabriel is talking about, but just the sound of his voice and the band on this album is pure chemistry. I don't get it for the life of me, but I do feel something. This is probably the band's real first album, as their initial material (from 1968/1969) has been pretty much disregarded by the band for years running. It's definitely the first album that sounds like "them." Every song here is just ace for me, but 'White Mountain' really sticks out. It's an example of buildup tension and release executed perfectly. The folkiness of the album cannot be denied. And maybe that's why I like it so much: musically, it's very reminiscent of John Martyn, Fairport Convention and Nick Drake albums of the same period. Really solid stuff.

Genesis — Nursery Cryme (1971)

This one is also really good — but a bit of a rehash. I mean, I like people who are clearly doing nothing wrong to repeat themselves as often as possible (Vini Reilly, Morrissey, Bill Evans, the Cocteau Twins, to name a few) but I don't know. This one feels formulaic. Now, after trashing it right out of the gate, I will say that the first four minutes of the album are absolutely thrilling on 'The Musical Box.' If only the rest of the album had been able to retain the same level of intensity. It's just fine, honestly. And look, I gave it a rather high score. I've already played it to heck and back, so there. It's a good pre-cursor to Foxtrot. They just did everything on here better elsewhere.

Genesis — Selling England by the Pound (1973)

Hey, more Genesis albums from the early 70's that are just darn solid affairs, imagine that! Again, this band knows how to kick off albums with insanely good buildups, as 'Dancing With the Moonlit Knight' is just fantastic, starting as acoustic plucking, morphing into charged-up gallop rock and ending with keyboard euphoria; hot damn, that's some listenable multi-movement rock music. Going off into left field immediately after that is the glammy (??!?!!!!?) 'I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe).' I love the song, honestly, but my confusion arises from the fact that I was always under the impression that proggers and glam kids were not on the same page, but this just confuses me. The grandiose chorus, the esoteric lyrics about fashion; good stuff. The real kicker though is the album closing suite of the thirteen minute 'The Cinema Show' and 'Aisle of Plenty.' It follows the now familiar (yet, no less stunning) Genesis formula of slow acoustic folky thing that builds into prggy show off bits, but this then strips down the layers, slows things back down and ends on another (entirely different) acoustic folky thing and it's just downright affecting how well it's pulled off. Melodically new (for them, anyway) and conceptually great stuff. And the whole album hangs together exceptionally well.

John Lennon — Imagine (1971)

Re-acquisition. It's often been said that this album starts off like it's about to be the greatest album of all time, but then it falls in love with itself. Where the Plastic Ono album got scared by its own humility (and therefore, was an alltime enduring classic), this album almost sounds like it's going for too too much. That's not to say it doesn't have tunes for days, because it does. The bigger arrangements and backings and reliance on blues cliches that dominate most of the album do not play to its advantage. It also seems overtly political without reason. I'm sure everybody knew John was a Labour supporter, but some stuff is just a conceptual failure here ('I Don't Wanna be Solider' for instance). This is all balanced by fantastically genuine and venerable moments like 'Oh My Love,' 'How?,' the Dylan-esque 'Oh Yoko!' and the lifechanging title track. There's not an unlistenable song on the album, but it is very uncohesive. It's very telling that, on an album as uneven and chaotic as this one, Lennon would never again sound as assured and satisfied as he did here.

~Austin

What's New?: 10.10.2011

2011-10-10T13:43:00.000-07:00

Proggy bits and pieces. . .

Jethro Tull — Aqualung (1971)

Sure, there's a lot of guitar flashing and just an in general 'overplayed' vibe to the whole thing, but there are also really tuneful songs at the heart of everything here. And, you'll just never know when a song will go straight into acoustic folk rock territory. Wonderful stuff. The title track is a good indicator for the rest of the album: hard rocking and intense one minute, strummy and folky the next. There is a bit of a (what the band said in retrospect was unintentional) concept to the album of how religion in society is used to cover up unpleasantness (and subsequently, how organized religion is a bit of a noble failure in this respect). Conceptually, very "deep man." But musically, it's more folk rock than it is prog to my ears. It actually really reminds me of Fairport Convention albums from the same period. Songs like 'Mother Goose' and 'My God' are just excellent, regardless of how you want to classify them.

Jethro Tull — Thick as a Brick (1972)

First of all, the packaging for this record is completely and fully impressive as to the amount of detail and work that went into it. A gatefold sleeve that contains an entire fake newspaper. I even went through and read a good portion of it and, not only is it completely detailed, much of it is downright hilarious. The music feels like it had just as much consideration given to it, as the album is just one piece that is divided into two sidelong parts; and while it definitely has distinct parts and unique 'song within a song' passages, it's all part of the greater work. While there are also lots of light and folky acoustic passages, the album is much more electric and focused on soloing this time around. At that point, it becomes very clear that this was intended to be a more 'proggy' album. A glance at the lyrics is pretty impenetrable, actually. It's definitely got some poetic qualities to it, but there are lots of sidebars within sidebars and no thoughts ever really get fully completed. In any case, it's a profound work regardless, because it's just musically interesting. There is plenty of soloing and noodly purely technical passages (hey, it is a prog album after all), but unlike a lot of other prog that is technical for technicality's sake, the tunes here are impeccable and smart. Hard to pick a favorite between these two Tull albums.

Egg — Egg (1970)

One of the great bands of the legendary Canterbury scene. Definitely more classical-minded for a rock trio (heck, side two of the album is dedicated to an instrumental "symphony"). For a guitar-less trio, Egg manages to color their music with a surprising amount of tonal ambiance thanks to Dave Stewart's organ work. Take a song like 'I Will Be Absorbed' for instance: tons of dynamics shifting and a general sound about it that there has to be more than just three guys playing. There is also a real emphasis on tunes here. Take the group's adaptation of Bach's 'Fugue in D Minor' in which they transform the piece into a somewhat funky two minute psychedelic trip. The symphony (billed as 'No. 2') is a twenty minute instrumental experience that simply expands on the idea. It's a bit reminiscent of ELP, if they were more concerned with tunes than skills (and not to mention, it gets pretty wacky and dissonant at points). As a deluxe reissue on the great Esoteric boutique label, this features bonus materials that are all just as strong as the proper album.

Soft Machine — One and Two (1968/1969)

Neat two-fer CD reissue of the first two Soft Machine albums. Soft Machine was, of course, from the same Canterbury scene that Egg also rose from. Where Egg was a bit more focused on playing a sort of "classical rock," Soft Machine is more in the vein of playing "jazz rock." Be it through Robert Wyatt's decidedly jazzy drumming and occasionally even scatty vocals or Michael Ratledge's undeniably Herbie Hancock-esque keyboard work, there is definitely a sense here that group was raised just as much on jazz as it was on rock and roll. Both albums are divided into two sidelong suites that range in length from less than a minute to in excess of seven minutes. For all of the idiosyncratic and (presumably) sarcastically narcissistic lyrics and patience-trying density of the layout of the albums, you have to really take a step back and marvel at just how revolutionary and new this music must have sounded like in 1968. There is plenty here that could easily be considered right alongside the Krautrock bands that people seem to give a lot more credit to (for whatever reason). You really have to scratch your head with something like 'We Did it Again.' Essentially a fuzzier ripoff of 'You Really Got Me' — and yet, it still sounds fresh. The first album is a bit more solid overall, as Kevin Ayres is still in the band on guitar and it's just the trio playing some wildly psychedelic pop. The second album goes a bit more jazzy, with the addition of a horn section and Ayres being traded out for bassist Hugh Hopper. Two very distinct affairs, but both equally as revelatory in their own ways. Pretty fun stuff.

Hugh Hopper and Alan Gowen — Two Rainbows Daily (1980)

An all instrumental duets album that features Alan Gowen on various keyboards and Hugh Hopper playing his electric bass through various effects and pedals, both playing several parts through overdubbing. While not strictly a jazz album, it ventures closer to jazz than anything else. Kind of in an ECM mode, as it does get very ambient and nearly new agey at certain points. Something like 'Morning Order' (famously sampled by Common) is the kind of song I think of when I envision two aging British hippies getting together to have a cup of tea and make music. Lovely stuff, actually. The fuzzy bass tones and early synths do date this one pretty quickly, but the musical conversations these guys have are interesting to eavesdrop on, for sure. The album closes out with the fantastic nine minute ballad 'Waltz for Nobby.' This CD reissue features five tracks from a one-off trio performance (that features the headlining duo with Nigel Morris on drums) that is most certainly a jazz date. It does not compliment the proper album very well, but as its own session, it's not too bad. Highlighted by the eerie 'Little Dream,' it definitely illustrates that these guys were just as comfortable in a purely jazz setting.

Radiohead — Go to Sleep and There There EPs (2003)

Six b-sides from the Hail to the Thief album. As Radiohead b-sides go, they're all over the place, from acoustic numbers (the lovely 'Gagging Order') to glitchy electronic tunes (the surprisingly tuneful 'I am Citizen Insane'). The Amnesiac b-side 'Fog' shows up in a live solo Thom rendition, where he accompanies himself on piano and that's just fun (seriously, a b-side getting live love is awesome anyway, but to actually put out the live recording is great). 'Paperbag Writer' and 'I am a Wicked Child' sound like the album that birthed them, while the paranoid electronic doodle 'Where the Bluebirds Fly' sounds like a leftover from the Amnesiac b-sides. Definitely hardcore fan fodder, but good for what it is.

~Austin

What's New?: 10.1.2011

2011-10-01T18:32:00.000-07:00

Cat Stevens — Foreigner (1973)

Filling up holes in the old Cat Stevens collection. Like all of his previous albums, this one's good, but not quite as good as the one that came before it. Still love the big budget folk rock production and his undeniably passionate performances throughout. The whole of side one is taken up by the now infamous 'Foreigner Suite' which features four regular old Cat Stevens songs (good ones, too) that are segued by doodly little instrumental half-songs. I love that sort of unnecessarily ambitious crap. The final song has the (now hilarious) little Joe Satriani/Coldplay bit — not an album highlight, but worth a mention for comedy's sake. Side two of the album just carries along in the same manner but it just doesn't sound as interesting without the willfully artsy aspect that side one has. The album closing song '100 I Dream' has got to be one of the single most uplifting songs ever. Take one look at some random lyrics: "Pick up the pieces you see before you, don't let your weaknesses destroy you." A sparse folk rock backing that mirrors his earlier triumphs and a multi-tracked harmony vocal and the deal is sealed. Good stuff.

Dave Brubeck — We're All Together Again for the First Time (1972)

The title is presumably a reference to Dave, Paul Desmond and Gerry Mulligan. It is absolutely top tier post-bop from a time when the stuff was frowned upon and in short supply. I don't know what it is, but Paul Desmond just sounds on fire throughout. Gerry Mulligan's composition 'Unfinished Woman' is a soul jazz rave-up — gosh dang, it's good. The Desmond feature on 'Koto Song' is hauntingly beautiful. Rhythm section of Jack Six on bass and Alan Dawson on drums is completely sympathetic to the dynamite frontline they're backing. There's even a super long rendition of 'Take Five' and Dave finishes the live set (recorded at two different dates in late 1972) with a solo reading of 'Sweet Georgia Brown' — completely appropriate, seeing as how it's very obvious that everyone involved was having a blast. Solid stuff. I need to explore Brubeck properly.

Cal Tjader — Several Shades of Jade (1963)

Really sweet find at a thrift store on this one. I did have this album, years back, on this two-fer CD. Overall, it looks a lot more gimmicky from the outside than it actually is. Because, for the most part, it's just Cal Tjader's group playing what they played, but with augmentation from a tastefully Lalo Schifrin-arranged orchestra. I actually didn't remember much of this album from previously, and that's surprising. Because it's actually really worthwhile. I mean, something like 'Song of the Yellow River' is just about as ahead of its time as something might get. Overall, this is probably one of the Cal Tjader albums most folks might guess is pure cheese — but after properly reassessing, I'd say it's among his best.

Prince — Prince (1979)

Sure, not his most enduring material, but there's a charm to the two early Prince albums. It's a brand of semi-disco R&B/funk that just doesn't really sound like anybody else. Because, while Lakeside and Slave were conceiving songs entirely in the studio, Prince was still writing in his bedroom. Hence, you get introspective seven minute things like 'I Wanna Be Your Lover.' It doesn't have the standouts that his first album had, but it does hang together a little better overall as an album. It has a very dated late-70's vibe to it that I must confess I like. A time when recording studios were a church of sorts and even a lesser Prince work like this one was still treated like a goldmine. Dah well, the record's good, but far from his best.

The Band — Music from Big Pink (1968)

The (other) album that the Basement Tapes begat. There's just something about this album that you feel. I can't really articulate it — but this is powerful music. I think it was George Starostin that said (or at least, he was the first person who proposed the idea as I knew it) that nobody really knows what these guys are talking about, but they are talking about some serious shit. And that comes through in this music. It's an epic collision of old meets new. Old timey ideals and ethics meet a newly discovered rocker interest in folk music and you get music that proposes something completely timeless — rare for rock music. I know it's the hit and the song that everybody knows, but I can still remember the first time I heard 'The Weight.' It is a godlike moment in music and one of my favorite songs of all time. Levon Helm's vocal performance is just about as good as it gets in my book. With my interest in Fleet Foxes reaching its most fervent phase, it's nice to go back and hear the roots. Jesus, this album is good. Makes me feel warmer just thinking about it.

The Zincs — Moth and Marriage (2001)

The Zincs' debut album is a sparser presentation of what they would become. For the most part, it's a dual jangly strummy guitar arrangement of esoteric pop songs. This one is a bit more acoustic-based than the albums that would follow, but despite the sparse presentation, the songs are just as good. There really aren't any standouts —besides Jim Elkington's bizarre lyrics— and that plays to the album's advantage, because it demands a full listen every single time. I guess this ultimately plays up Elkington's slant towards British folk rock because it does have the feeling about it that it's about the greater statement than its individual parts. Hard for a guy like me to dislike such willfully tuneful and strummy music.

Cocteau Twins — Four-Calendar Café (1993)

It sounds absolutely fine now, but I can only imagine how disappointing this must have been coming after Heaven or Las Vegas. In retrospect, it can be looked at as a very cliched stock Cocteaus sound. That sounds great these days because the band has been defunct for so long, but at the time, it must have bruised a few longtime fans' hearts. Still, Cocteaus doing "Cocteaus" is better than nothing. This album is notoriously subdued and lowkey in its production, but that actually plays to the success of mellower songs like 'Oil of Angels', 'My Truth' and the especially vintage-sounding number 'Essence.' Overall, not their best, but still a darn fine album.

Cocteau Twins — Head Over Heels/Sunburst and Snowblind (1983)

And straight back into the classics and my Cocteaus collection is complete. You can't fault albums like this. Sure, the band did better songs, but does this not hang together like a total masterpiece? 'Sugar Hiccup' is one of Robin Guthrie's most inspired moments, while 'Musette and Drums' creates the sort of building quality that most bands can only dream of. Yeesh, I mean, sure they were totally onto something new here —and would arguably repeat themselves for the rest of the 80's— but who cares when they were doing it this well? When you're in the zone, you want to stay there. And this is where theirs started.

Mojave 3 — Spoon & Rafter (2003)

After digesting —and really liking— Ask Me Tomorrow, I decided one was not enough, so I found this album used. I purposely went for this one because the first song is 'Bluebird of Happiness'. It's the only Mojave 3 song I've heard that's as good as —or, indeed, better than— Slowdive. A nine minute epic that channels Neil Young via-shoegaze, it's one of Neil Halstead's best songs ever. I just wish all of Mojave 3 was as good. The rest of the album does follow suit, in a matter of speaking. There are some twangy little ditties that toe the line between sleepy country rock and dreamy folk, but none of them have that insanely realized balance of emotion, intensity and restraint that that first track has (as the only sane person in the room asks, "What does?"). It's a lovely little album after the initial shock up front. But, I have to admit, without that first track, I would have scored the album significantly lower.

~Austin

What's New?: 9.23.2011

2011-09-23T21:11:00.000-07:00

Really unassuming batch of greatness this go 'round. . .

Cocteau Twins — Blue Bell Knoll (1988)

Nothing special at all for the Cocteaus, but solid as hell regardless. By this point, the Cocteaus had become very influential, so I can understand the backlash of them doing an album that sounds exactly like them three years previous. And yet, nobody else managed to do it as well. Just listen to the dreamy fantastigasm™ on songs like 'Cico Buff' (this would have been a standout on any of their previous albums, too). The title track is dark and dreamy, while the last two tracks ('A Kissed Out Red Floatboat' and 'Ella Megalast Burls Forever') point the way towards Heaven or Las Vegas. I understand how somebody could overlook this album, but I don't understand how you could not count it among the band's peak material after hearing it. I think I might also like it so much simply because of the unfamiliarity of the material, as most of this album has not been compiled elsewhere. Top stuff from a band in top form.

Cocteau Twins — Victorialand (1986)

Very dreamy, even for this band. Most of the songs are awash with acoustic guitars, tons of delay (seemingly more than usual) and minimal percussion. The very first track ('Lazy Calm' — a perfect title) wins me over instantly. It's arguably the most Cocteau-ish song the band ever did. It's very calm, even for them and sits right next to the Moon and the Melodies very nicely. I actually really like that the band is mostly digging into calmer, less percussive territory here. I hesitate to call it the closest thing to a straight acoustic album that they ever did, but there you have it. It lends itself much better to Durutti Column comparisons than it does My Bloody Valentine. If nothing else, the relative sparseness of the material highlights Robin Guthrie more than usual and he's definitely playing in a 'more bang for your buck' mode here as he just hits these chord patterns over and over and just lets them float. Like a mofo'ing boss, I'd say. Play this for anyone who thinks that the Cocteaus didn't have diversity on their side. And I will say this again: 'Lazy Calm' is just absolute magic. One of their best songs, I reckon.

Brian Eno — Another Green World (1975)

'Tis a replacement copy. Let it be known, here and now, that I did give a (very) positive review to something that Phil Collins was involved with. Although I would imagine that ol'Phil had very little to do with the songcraft on these here selections and was only brought in to lend his drumming to the party, there you have it. For anyone wanting to know why Brian Eno is so revered, don't even play them this entire album —because it is most definitely a slow burning grower of an experience— just play them the song 'Sombre Reptiles.' That is, in essence, what Brian Eno has contributed to modern music. Just a few simple chords. But arranged in a loping, thoughtful way that makes two minutes and some change seem like the greatest piece of ambient music you've ever heard. Melodically lyrical and completely thoughtful, it is Eno's masterpiece. I could listen to it on repeat for hours. The rest of the album is darn fine, as well. Not quite as willfully weird as Taking Tiger Mountain —it's a bit calmer overall, with the entirety of side two having no drums whatsoever— it's still got that artsy quality to it, but mixed with Eno's ambient philosophies, making it a completely appealing, and convincing, mix of ambient soundscapes and pop sensibilities. He released better material as a collaborative contributor to other things after this, but he never released anything better under his own name. Defying time and trends, it is purely magnificent; and absolutely a classic album.

The Zincs — Black Pompadour (2007)

Saw these guys open for the Sea and Cake in San Francisco on the Everybody tour. At the time, I knew little of what to make if their esoteric jangle sound, but I actually really liked their set and thought they deserved to be playing higher on the bill. Definitely should have played after the Robbers on High Street — who were actually terrible, honestly, as their between song banter actually included a narrative from the singer about a waitress who "hilariously" misheard the band name as "Robbers on Ice Cream' — how hilariously pretentious to actually recollect before an audience of onlookers, you fake Macy Gray idiot (seriously, the skinny fucker sounded like Macy Gray. God, I wanted to punch him). Much in contrast to the Zincs' between song banter (the one comment I remember, besides song title introductions from Jim Elkington, was, "We drove down from Portland yesterday — that's really far! I loved it though!" — and then launched into a tune from Dimmer). I remember wanting to buy the band's albums right then and there (I was working on a budget at the merch stand), but, over the years, I've admittedly just forgotten. I have fond memories of the band playing 'The Mogul's Wives' and being pretty darned impressed as far as seeing a bunch of guys I had never heard of before recreating these wonderful Television-style dual jangle interplay guitars while Jim did this funny little dance while he was playing. The band honestly didn't seem to care that there was maybe fifty people paying attention. This album kicks butt. It's like the more jangly Sea and Cake material (appropriate, as it was recorded by John McEntire at his own SOMA studio; and helped out on various instruments), but with a bit of weary midwestern twang and seriously weird lyrics. Think Wilco, but more fun. It all makes very little sense when you consider that Jim Elkington is British and had only been living in America for a few years at this point. Really unique music and just a shame that they didn't get some notoriety off this material (in one of the bitchiest of bitch moves they've ever done —and probably a contributing factor as to why the album didn't get more notice— Pitchfork gave the album a mediocre score amidst one of the most worthless reviews I've ever read — case in point of the website trying to outcool their subject matter by pointlessly one-upping it). Freakin' lovely music, man. Smart — but not smarty pants. And just awesome how it straddles 'pop' and 'art' so seamlessly.

The Zincs — Dimmer. (2005)

One of the most complete jangle albums of the last decade, honestly. I'm sorry I waited so long. I distinctly remember three songs that the Zincs played when they opened for Sea and Cake off this album: 'Moment is Now!' (because they opened with it), 'Passengers' (because Jim Elkington played harmonica) and 'Beautiful Lawyers' (because it was so reminiscent of the Sea and Cake's jangly perfection). Things build and build in a very pleasantly jangly tone for the bulk of the album until they hit the ballad 'Sunday Night' and it just feels like one of those Neil Young-esque, late night, moment of clarity occurrences that pop up every so often with good music scholars. Overall, I have listened to this album several times over the past few days and I have to say that the band, as played to me on that spring night several years ago, is just as captivating on record as I remember they were in person. Again: I'm sorry I waited so long. I've really missed out.

Mojave 3 — Ask Me Tomorrow (1996)

I received Puzzles Like You as a promo when I worked at Tower Records and I remember being really excited to be properly introduced what is essentially Slowdive v.2. I hated it. For years ever since, I've written off the band as "shitty Slowdive with twang." A friend recently introduced me to a version of 'Bluebird of Happiness' that made me re-think things. I know I've heard this album in passing before, but I just can't say where. And sure, going in after Pygmalion (and its subsequent deluxe edition), it's just not as good. But, leave all that baggage at the door and this is a darn fine little whispery dreamy folk rock album. Reminds me a lot of Neil Young's Harvest Moon, in fact (add some reverb and you're there). Think Mazzy Star, but less "trippy man" (not that being "trippy man" isn't good). Hearing it from where I am now, 'Love Songs on the Radio' is a downright classic in my book. The boozy twang of 'Tomorrow's Taken' is as comforting as the most relatable of classic country, but with a fantastically surreal vibe to it that only former-shoegazers could pull off. Overall, it's Neil Young for dream pop fans. No wonder I like it. Again, I'm sorry I waited so long.

~Austin

What's New?: 9.18.2011

2011-09-18T20:55:00.000-07:00

A compendium of AWESOME!!!

Ok, that may have been a little much. . . But some good stuff, for sure. . .

Love Tractor — Themes From Venus (1989)

Oh, Love Tractor, you are so deliciously jangly! This is a later one with more of a focus on vocal tracks, but it starts off with the surf 'n jangle pop monster 'I Broke My Saw', so everything is ok. There is a bit more of a rocked up punch to the production, but for 1989 standards, this was super artsy. The instrumentals are all on par with the band's early material and it's just awesome to hear something like the magically melancholy 'Hey Mess' morph into the layered jangly good time instrumental 'Nova Express.' Found this one on a whim, but I'm really glad to have added it to my collection. Hidden gem, for sure.

Waxing Poetics — Hermitage (1986)

A total obscurity from the backburner of the college rock stovetop (not to mention, the Roadrunner Records catalogue). I only glanced at the back cover of this because I didn't know what it was. Finding that I recognized two rather significant names (Mitch Easter, and more importantly, Mike Mills), I was intrigued. Sure glad I took a blind chance on it, because I found a pretty good little jangle album. It does have a bit of a power pop influence to it, and overall, reminds me very much of early R.E.M. Highlights for me are the moody 'Friday's Child', the Ocean Blue-ish 'This Parade' and the very R.E.M.-esque title track. Great stuff for jangle fans; shame it's pretty much an obscurity.

Brian Eno — Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) (1974)

Try to be weird and poppy at the same time, end up sounding like this album. This is a re-acquisition, of sorts. God, he was ahead of the curve. 'Third Uncle' still sounds contemporary. It's supposed to be a concept album, but I've never actually sat down and figured it out. The lyrics are jut too trippy, honestly. In a good way, but sheesh. I'm not figuring that wacky shit out. I mean, what can you say about this album? If the song is totally calm and catchy, the lyrics are completely bizarre ('Put a Straw Under Baby' and 'Burning Airlines Give You So Much More' for instance), but then there's songs where things are just plain weird and out of place ('Third Uncle' and 'China My China'), going off into these noisy, atonal tangents that predict any number of post-punk sub-genres (confusingly, a good three years before such a thing was even possible!!!??!!!?!). Through it all, there's a strange sense of melody going on that is just fantastic. The title track points towards his ambient future, and overall, it's hard to imagine he could get even better.

Brian Eno — Ambient 4: On Land (1982)

Eno's late 70's and early 80's ambient albums are works of sheer mastery. So good, in fact, that people who otherwise don't like a good ambient segue respect the hell out of them, if they don't flat out like them. I have been more and more open to the annals of ambient music these past few years and, I have to say, after years of disregarding Eno's non-pop albums and ambient stuff in general, I've really come to admire his work the most. It has a resonance —dare I say, a soul?— to it that I have yet to find with most other works in the genre. This one starts off with one of his best songs ever on 'Lizard Point.' A shorter piece, it characterizes this album, as it has a clear main theme that is not only discernible, it's actually kind of catchy. The album builds and builds until the second to last track ('A Clearing') and it's clear that this is very emotional music for its creator. He has better ambient albums, but not many.

The Horrors — Skying (2011)

This album has already been addressed. It is a very nice double vinyl edition, with a gatefold cover, full color inner sleeves, heavy 180 gram records and a digital download redemption. I expect nothing less from the folks over at XL.

Shelleyan Orphan — Helleborine (1987)

Completing my collection of the early Shelleyan Orphan stuff. It strikes me as "Baroque Pop" in the best sort of way. They have that string and woodwind accompaniment, but with an acoustic strummy guitar base that just appeals to me. It's like post-punk folk. This is their first album, and probably their most produced one, oddly. Although it contains arguably their best song ever with the seven minute album closing epic 'Melody of Birth.' Side two of the album is definitely the overall stronger one, but it's hard to call the album anything but a pure success, with other highlights like 'One Hundred Hands' and 'Jeremiah.' Fantastic stuff from a sadly forgotten band.

Aztec Camera — Still on Fire EP (1984)

Hard to see that spine on the scan above, but this is the 12" I picked up. I'm the last person that can claim objectivity when it comes to Roddy Frame, as to me, the guy practically invented my favorite brand of rock music, so take that as you will. This one contains the fantastic single from Knife, along with two live tracks that I previously had on an American ten inch EP, along with live versions of two High Land Hard Rain classics, 'Walk Out to Winter' and an absolutely stunning 'The Boy Wonders.' Sure, I'm rating it on the strength of two (new to me) live renditions of songs that I've known for years, but hey, when you're a whore, you're a whore for all of it. Hard to believe a band that sounded that good and that passionate got so. . . well, shit on. This is the sort of thing I collect vinyl for. Now I just need to track down that extended nine minute 12" mix of 'Walk Out to Winter.' And those Love-era b-sides. Oh yeah!

Cocteau Twins/Harold Budd — The Moon and the Melodies (1986)

It's good — really good. But, besides the straight ambient songs, the proper songs are really no new revelation for the band. Still, when you're hot, you're hot. And it should come as no surprise that amongst the proper songs, 'Sea, Swallow Me' and 'She Will Destroy You' are pretty much in the top tier of Cocteaus material. The ambient tracks are really, really good. But, they do sacrifice the cohesiveness of the album. It would have been nice to follow Bowie and Eno's precedent and do all the pop songs on one side and all the ambient stuff on the other. But, no points taken away for them trying something different. I want to say I've heard this album in passing before (shoutout to Chris Hubbell when he was in one of his mellow moods, perhaps?). I've neglected this post-Treasure Cocteaus material for too long.

The Soft Boys — Underwater Moonlight (1980)

I've told myself I would buy this album without ever having heard a single note of it if I ever saw it, quite literally, for years. Well, that day finally came and I made good on my promise to myself. It's been said that the Soft Boys were the very first jangle band, and after hearing this, I can't properly agree with that, but I definitely understand that they were important as hell to the scene. It's a bit more new wave all around in its philosophy. But definitely has moments of 12-string jangle that are completely out of place for 1980 (and yet, the Feelies released Crazy Rhythms the same year — just sayin'). I'd actually place this one very much in with Paisley Underground crowd from the west of the US. It has absolutely nothing to do with that scene, but does its sound not fit right in? The title track here is a totally awesome Byrds-revival jangler that must have sounded completely wrong in 1980. But, oh so right. Robyn Hitchcock went on to more notoriety after the band, but it has never held my interest much. This stuff is like jangle pop filtered through an odd druggy stream of conscious early 80's haze. Gotta love it. Quintessential stuff for me.

Travis — Good Feeling (1997)

The first track is 'All I Want to Do is Rock' and indeed, amongst the overdriven guitars and gutty vocals from Fran Healy, this is the band's most Brit-poppy album. The tunes are there, but hearing it now for the first time in retrospect, it is very dated. Much of what made the band so great from The Man Who onwards is not really present (or, at least, not very apparent). Most of the songs have big guitars up front and semi-whiney vocals. The reggae rock of the title track hints at the songcraft that the band had up its sleeve, while 'Tied to the 90's is a surprisingly lucid realization of the band's own mortality. The second half leans on ballads heavily and that's where the hints of the greatness that was to come shone through. Still though, easily the band's worst album, even though it does hint at where they would go.

Travis — Ode to J. Smith (2008)

Within the first three tracks ('Chinese Blues', 'J. Smith' and 'Something Anything'), it's a pure and complete contrast (in a good way) with Good Feeling. These three songs rock out more than anything the band had done since that first album, but they are more polished, more layered and just all around more well-thought out than anything on Good Feeling. Granted, for the first third of this album, the band's guitars sound more ferocious than they have in a decade, but their songcraft is as good as ever. So, when things evolve back into their now-stock jangle sound on 'Quite Free', it sounds natural and fluid. I do prefer the calmer second half of the album, but you have to really marvel at how good Travis has become at what they do. With this album, they have become what Coldplay wishes they were: a pop band that actually plays challenging riffs and meaningful changes. They are this generation's interpretation of Crowded House.

Keith Murray — Enigma (1996)

Another mostly Erick Sermon-produced mid-90's gem. I did have this one on cassette in high school (for car listening, of course), so I guess this is a re-acquisition. God, the beats on this album are just. . . wow. I never would have arrived at this at the time, but when I started making beats in late '98, I was subconsciously trying to make beats like on this album. Jesus, 'The Rhyme'? Do you know how many of my beats sound like that? That song is so good, I didn't even realize I was copying it. Keith is on some complete and pure nonsense on the mic the entire time. It's like the beats are these bass-heavy, vibed out mellow masterpieces (think G-funk, but with better drums) and Keith is saying stuff like, "Fuck you, comin' from the 'Fuck you' man" the entire time. So, yeah. But, good beats are worth their weight in gold and this album still sounds great. The last two proper tracks are surprisingly lucid, humble as they may be as attempts at poignancy. 'To My Mans' has a beat that should make any MC jealous while 'World be Free' is an unnecessarily aggressively meditation on the awesomeness of travel that only a hiphop album could pull off. An early Jay Dee production on the masterful Bill Evans-sampling 'The Rhyme' remix closes things out and I have a really hard time not loving this album, even after all this time.

Cocteau Twins — Milk + Kisses (1996)

As a first step taken to dive into that later Cocteaus material that I felt I was neglecting, I saw this album used on the shelf and went for it. I know some versions of these songs from the Lullabies to Violaine set from a few years ago. But, mostly, I was marveling at how good the Twins still sounded so late in their career. Nothing changed really, besides nuances in production, and they're still able to sound undeniably like themselves. 'Half-Gifts' totally rips off 'Suzanne' and still manages to sound great. 'Seekers Who are Lovers' is the sort of vintage Cocteaus song that must have sounded like it was from another planet in 1996. I wish they would reunite, honestly.

More shortly on the way. . .

~Austin

Mark Burgess + Yves Altana — Paradyning live in Frankfurt '96

2011-09-18T19:22:00.001-07:00

A little curiosity can take you a long way, my friends. . .

After finding this little gem late one Saturday night, I soon stumbled upon this, filled out the form and thought nothing more of it. When I heard back, it would be a lie if I said that I didn't get a little hint of butterflies. I've long thought that the Paradyning album was an underrated chapter in the Mark Burgess saga. It's almost like a more focused version of the Sons of God project, as it features a lot of the same lineup, but everything is whittled down to its bare essentials. Jon Lever on drums and you get a couple downright Mark Burgess classics that have remained in his live repertoire ever since.

So, this album is just candy coating on an already super sweet semi-hidden treat.

The set opens with two rip roaring rocking out moments on 'Sin' and 'Silver' that definitely look forward to the more aggressive material Mark and Yves would tackle on the Invincible album a couple years later. It really makes me go back to the proper Paradyning album, as I guess I never really noticed before that the album definitely does rock out in a few spots — the production is a bit restrained, so I guess it was an easy thing to miss.

While not everything from the proper album is played here ('Adrian Be' and 'Stop Talking' are not performed), three Chameleons songs are played with pure expertise (a blistering 'Home is Where the Heart Is', a subdued —but passionate— 'It is Any Wonder?' and a unique, building version of 'Tears' as a hidden bonus track) and, quite awesomely, an ace run-through of the Sun and the Moon's 'This Passionate Breed' round out the set. It's fantastically recorded straight from the board and sequenced in a cohesive order.

The highlight for me is definitely 'Inhaling' —it's one of my favorite songs Mark has ever done anyway, but they just captured it amazingly here. An intensity and emotional aspect, that some folk may have missed on the studio version, is present here and any doubts that it's one of Mark's best tunes should probably subside by the second chorus.

And, you know, it should speak pretty loudly about how good this thing is when you take a step back and really look at what it is: just a live album. This was just a gig for Mark and Yves. They found some local musicians, practiced the songs for a day or two and played a show. That it's now a serendipitous document of a pivotal moment in the career of an unlikely musical partnership between two people so closely linked just goes to show you that, more than anything else, Mark Burgess is a musician who will give his all no matter what. And that this was just another stop on the road for these two —and yet, simultaneously, a worthy listening endeavor on its own that has that undeniably personable warmth that seems like everything with Mark's name on it possesses— is just plain awesome.

A longtime proponent of the straight from the artist purchase, I highly recommend it.

You can buy this album from Yves Altana here.

~Austin

Show review: Fleet Foxes 10 September 2011

2011-09-11T15:58:00.000-07:00

Made the trip over to Berkeley yesterday to see Fleet Foxes at the Greek Theatre. I've been wanting to see them live for a few years now, as they are one of my favorite bands. Although I feel like maybe I'm getting too old to make such marathon trips and stand around for several hours in the same spot, I once again have to revert back to an old cliche: it was totally worth it.

Not much to say about the actual performance because it was so good, so passionate and so resonating that I don't want to be become redundant.

The opener was the Walkmen and, despite hearing them in passing previously and not really being terribly impressed, I have to say they left me pretty indifferent. The lead guitarist did have a sweet shiny midnight blue and white Rickenbacker that looked vintage, though. Nothing more to say, really.

Walking up Gayley street to get in line, I could hear the band's soundcheck harmonies echoing out of the theatre, through the city blocks and into the fog. The music on the house stereo leading up to the band's entrance had Robin Pecknold's fingerprints all over it: Van Morrison, David Axelrod and John Coltrane, amongst other things. Just provided the perfect atmosphere.

It was clear that the crowd was on the band's side, as they received a standing ovation before a single note was played. The song selection in the setlist had pretty much everything I would have asked for, had the band consulted me. 'The Plains/Bitter Dancer' —what I initially thought to be an odd opening selection— worked incredibly well. They played almost all of Helplessness Blues ('The Cascades' and 'Someone You'd Admire' were left out) amidst a selection of strong older favorites. The fluidity of the live arrangements, especially when they play those medleys was just eye-poppingly good. Even if the material wasn't as strong as it is, you'd still have to marvel at how well they played it. The medley on 'White Winter Hymnal'/'Ragged Wood' and the perfect execution of 'The Shrine'/'An Argument' (with an added extra verse from Robin and a skronky epic bass clarinet solo by Morgan Henderson) into 'Blue Spotted Tail' were definitely highlights. 'Blue Ridge Mountains' came late in the set, during the encore after a new song Robin sang solo, and it sounded just unbelievably good. The harmonies and huge dynamics were surely only enhanced by the Greek Theatre's architecture, as something like 'Sim Sala Bim' just became this gargantuan wall of sound that left more than a few people with goosebumps — myself included.

Other things that stood out to me:
Josh Tillman is an absolute BEAST on drums. The guy has provided the driving backbone that makes the band's music, especially when played live, even more passionate than on records.
Christian Wargo's bass is awesome. The tone he gets out of it is great, sure, but just the look of it wins for me.
The band has FUN when they are playing. They are an extremely tight and disciplined unit, but there was no shortage of between song banter, jokes and just general goofing around going on. You can tell they are loving every second of it up there and it really comes across in how well they play the songs.
Maybe it's just because I was down front, but they were fucking LOUD. Man, I never thought you could genuinely rock out with acoustic instruments like that.

Overall, I can't imagine a better showing from them. The entire time, I kept thinking to myself, "Yeah, this is what I think of when I hear their records." If nothing else, it's proof that they should release a live album, because the material sounds just as good when they play it live as it does on the records (and, in some cases, it's better).

In a quieter between song moment, someone a ways behind me yelled out, "You're one of the best bands of this generation." Robin looked up briefly, quickly looked back down and adjusted his pedals, obviously trying to hide a huge smile. His humility wouldn't let him acknowledge the comment out loud, but his genuine earnestness shone through — which is why people say such things in the first place.

Photos:

Some folks have already put video up on YouTube: 'The Shrine/An Argument/Blue Spotted Tail' (this was the proper set closer) and the new song (no title was announced).

Staggeringly good.

~Austin

What's New?: 9.5.2011

2011-09-05T18:22:00.000-07:00

Another one that could go on for a bit. . .

Erick Sermon — Double or Nothing and Bomdigi EP (1995)

A peak example of just how thanklessly strong east coast hip hop was in the mid-90's. This album, deemed second tier at the time, holds up for that soulful, blunted out, bass-heavy mid-tempo goodness. I'm sure I had a dub of it from Iain, but I know for sure I've never owned a copy of my own before. I recognized a lot of the non-single material, but ultimately, it just goes to prove why I don't like hip hop anymore: for all of the shit talking and gratuitous amounts of swearing, there is an earnestness and honesty present that has absolutely no concern with whether or not anybody actually likes the music. R+B singer Aaron Hall appears on 'Welcome' and, while that was probably deemed a move towards the mainstream, the backing track is just too funky, too spaced out and just too off the wall to really cross over properly. The countless shoutouts to all eras of music and musicians is always fun for me to hear (when it comes down to it, we're all just fans — awesome). The poignant moment of clarity 'Focus' at once makes a point and comes off without an ounce of preachiness. Just good stuff. And, looking back now, it's easy to see how I feel so deeply in love with this music.

Invincible — Venus (1999)

Probably the best thing Mark Burgess did after the Chameleons disbanded. I've had the album in various (unofficial) forms for years, but I decided enough was enough recently and found a (still!) sealed copy on eBay. There are just gobs and gobs of vintage Mark Burgess moments here. Everything is presented with a bit more of a rougher rock and roll edge (thanks to Yves Altana's excellent work on guitars) and through it all is that voice and those words — the work of Mark Burgess, a man so good at what he does, even a relative obscurity like this is amongst his best work. Don't know if I've yet addressed it yet on Redundant Chicanery, but I feel that 'Spooks' is one of the best just straight catchy rock and roll songs of. . . well, ever, honestly. A weird manifesto about not feeling like you belong amidst a downright addictive riff. It's been said that Mark's ambition with Invincible was to rock out and still be able to connect with his audience like the bands he loved growing up did (T. Rex, Bowie, etc.). Mission accomplished. 'Think (it's going to happen)' is one of his best songs ever. A 6/8 time signature masterpiece on par with The Chams' 'Caution' and 'Is it Any Wonder?' and the Sun and the Moon's 'This Passionate Breed,' it's just a magical song that even people who don't like this style of music will probably concede is a genuinely affecting work. There's not a bad song in the bunch and there are definite shades of songs you could easily imagine as Chameleons numbers ('Only You Could Save Me' is case in point). But that's to suggest that this is a lesser work. On the contrary. This is, like I said, one of Mark's very best releases and it should be telling that, besides the Sun and the Moon (which was half of the original band anyway), this is really the only real band he formed outside of the Chameleons. What a wonderful album. Outstanding.

Crosby Stills + Nash — Demos (late 60's/early70's)

Just a crowd pleaser. Simple, sparse run-throughs of long-familiar CSN favorites. I like that it doesn't stick strictly to material that ended up on the band's two initial albums, as several of the tracks appeared on the band member's solo albums. While there is more Stills tracks than I would care for (a full third of the disc), they don't take away from the other highlights. The solo Crosby demo of 'Deja Vu' is darn near better than the original and it's a little stunning to hear that he had such a complicated arrangement worked out so fluidly before the band had at it. Graham Nash's mostly solo rendition of 'Marrakesh Express' is pure fun while, the full band-backed initial run of 'Long Time Gone' is a lot more funked out than I would have imagined. Besides 'Deja Vu', no real revelations, but definitely good fun to hear this stuff.

Gastr del Sol — Camofleur (1998)

I will say the same thing I said when I first heard it about ten years ago: it reminds me of Brian Eno's pop albums from the 70's while sounding nothing like those albums. Instead, it just takes on a confluent role of two guys who just soaked up any and everything they could. The very first song ('The Seasons Reverse') is proof positive that David Grubbs and Jim O'Rourke were just two guys that were into everything and wanted to find a way to incorporate it into the music they were making. The acoustic twangs, the glitchy post-production, the challenging time signature, the incorporation of brass horns and steel drums, it's a really weird song that somehow manages to be catchy. Overall, it's really an acoustic-based album that uses post-production to manipulate the listener into thinking that it's a lot more weird than it actually is. Its influence is probably a lot larger than its notoriety. Wonderful stuff.

Stereolab — Fab Four Suture (2006)

One of the most consistent bands ever just keeps right on going. You can really hear how they were gearing up to move into the orchestrated pop variation of their sound on Chemical Chords (which would be their next move). 'Get a Shot of the Refrigerator' sounds exactly like them, but with an inkling of something else at play. I'm having a hard time articulating it, but that is a fine little manic number. I also really like 'Excursions Into Oh, A-oh' which sounds like classic Lab to me. Overall, there's enough quirks and nuances here to make this yet another one to own for Stereolab fans. And you just can't help but love the democracy that they have in regards to their discography: this is basically Switched On Volume Four, as it collects all of their singles and b-sides from 2005 and 2006. Tunes for days and pure catchiness and interesting ideas from a band that never seems to run out of any of those things.

Squeeze — Cool for Cats (1979)

Squeeze should be one of the most trusted names in retrospect for pure pop goodness. They do have large hits in America, but unfortunately, they get overlooked as kind of a novelty act. I'm not defending anything past East Side Story, but those first four albums are top tier new wave pop. 'Slap and Tickle' has the synths while the title track has the jangly guitars. It's jerky enough to be easily lumped in with new wave, but it's got enough attention paid to layers and poppy eccentricities to make it transcend; just like the rest of their best work. It probably hangs together with the least continuity of their initial three classics (this one, Argybragy and East Side Story), but its highlights are just as good as the other two. I really like the album as a whole because its songs, as an American listener, are just less familiar. Hard to dislike such a strong album from a band that was in such a productively consistent phase.

Embrace — Embrace (1985)

A curious dollar bin find. This is indeed the Embrace that recorded for Dischord in the mid-80's and was fronted by Ian MacKaye post-Minor Threat and pre-Fugzai. It's good. Very punk and very melodic at the same time. Ian is screamy at times with his voice, but, for the most part, he exhibits his tenor croon in a really well done fashion. The themes he covers in his lyrics are pretty dark and very much angry, self-deprecating and accusatory of others. His music always has a bit of self-righteousness to it, but it feels very real here and you have to just sit back and admire the passion in a song like 'Dance of Days.' And you know what? That's the theme of this material: it may not be expertly played or sang, but the sheer force and passion in the playing and performance genuinely affects the overall outcome of the music. It actually makes me think a lot of early Joy Division because the musical backing is very raw and punky, but the overall feeling is one of the band straining to be something perhaps beyond their capabilities. There is something in me that just loves that intensity.

Lowlife — Permanent Sleep (1985)

Have really wanted to check this band for a while now. This is Will Heggie's band after he left the Cocteau Twins. The LTM Label has reissued the band's entire catalogue, but I just haven't been able to afford any of those pricey imports. I don't want to be misunderstood, because I do like this one, but I am disappointed, to be completely sure. The heavy bass and chimey, echoey guitars are there and that's just heaven for me, but every song sounds exactly the same. Same 6/8 time signature, almost identical tempos and the same post-Ian Curtis baritone croon. Now, with any other lineup of unflinching similarity, I'd write it off pretty quickly, but let's be honest: I am very privy to this sound and era of music, so the very production sounds and the lovely echoing guitars keep things listenable. It could definitely use some diversity, but I certainly am not put off on checking out the rest of the band's discography.

A.R. Kane — Sixty Nine (1988)

Pretty sure it should be acknowledged fact by now that the very first track on this album —the godlike 'Crazy Blue'— is an indisputable classic. Where that track is like Sade meets the Pixies in a delicious promised land of dreamy melodic vibes and into-the-reds loudness, the rest of the album is a bit more willfully weird. The vocals the entire time are mixed to sound like the mic was at least ten feet away from where the vocals were actually coming from and the songs just generally avoid anything closely resembling traditional structure altogether. 'Dizzy' is an especially weird one, as it essentially sounds like classical music being played in an insane asylum full of mentally tortured shrieking maniacs. The segue of 'The Sun Falls Into the Sea' and 'The Madonna is With Child' is just about one of the trippiest —and seamless— things I've ever heard. Ray Schulman is about co-producing and whatnot and this one is just a total winner. Roots of post-rock 101, kiddos. Shame they're still not more known.

A.R. Kane — Lollita EP (1987)

This was produced by Robin Guthrie. I know it's hard to read this spine in the scan photo with the grey text on white matte cover. There are only three songs here, but each one knocks it out of the park easily. The title track plays up the shoegazey-ness of the band and is practically the group's manifesto. 'Sado-Masochism is a Must' squalls its way into existence and is probably the most Cocteau-ish thing the band ever did (in fact, it sounds like Robin Guthrie helped out on guitar), while 'Butterfly Collector' is dark and noisy (indeed, it ends with ninety seconds of white noise). Hard to imagine something this revolutionary getting so roundly ignored in retrospect.

Kenny Burrell — Midnight Blue (1963)

One of the best Blue Notes in that intimidatingly great catalogue. I had the pleasure of sneaking a copy of this album into the in-store play stock while I was working at Tower Records, so I heard it a lot. So much that I never felt like I needed to buy it. Time passes, here I am, buying it anyway. I can't think of a better title for an album that sounds like this one does. The blues hold strong over everything played here, but with the addition of Ray Barretto on hand percussions and an all around slower tempo, there is a sense here of late night, moment of clarity haziness. The thoughtful vibe and tuneful riffs in the songs makes for one of the foundation soul jazz albums of the period. One need not look any further than the solo Burrell composition 'Soul Lament' for the depth and tunefulness achieved here. Classics don't get much stronger than this.

~Austin

Lee Ranaldo — Vancouver Ambients 1-4 (2005)

2011-09-02T23:56:00.000-07:00

Here 'tis.

A short slice of what Lee Ranaldo does to please his fans when he's not Sonic Youthing things.

For some reason, we got one of these 33⅓ rpm seven inch EPs in when I worked at Tower. I bought it for the simple reason that it was hand numbered and signed by Lee himself (in pencil no less and obviously, I got number 291). Lee is on guitar, "tapes and edit" on all four tracks, Alan Licht is on guitar and Christian Marclay is on turntables on track three and William Hooker is on drums on track four. It's mostly total skronk musically, and really, more about the actual physical thing than the music being played. Still, part two is just godlike and, I swear to yahweh almighty, it gets stuck in my head sometimes.

A limited edition of 500 copies, pressed on translucent, very very light green vinyl (doubt you'll even be able to tell from the scans, it's so light), this is one for the 2am crowd.

~Austin

What's new?: 8.25.2011

2011-08-25T23:30:00.000-07:00

More stuff picked up from the Borders liquidation sale (along with other bits). This could be a long one. . .

Red Garland Trio — Red Garland's Piano (1957)

Just really strong piano trio stuff, basically. This is fresh off Red's run with Miles, so he was still playing very much in the Ahmad Jamal mode. He still has a few of those vintage Red Garland runs here and there, but he mostly sticks to the classy long melody statements and syncopated block chords. Paul Chambers is here and he takes a couple bowed solos that are just laughably good. I'm a big fan of Mr. PC, so it's nice to hear him whenever I can. The main thing to mention here is the mega epic ballad that opens the album on one of the best renditions of 'Please Send Me Someone to Love' I've heard. . . well, ever, honestly. A fantastic (and unique) take on 'But Not For Me' ends things and I can't really say I expected anything less. Really excellent stuff overall; and this is the wonderful Rudy Van Gelder remastered version from 2006, so extra bonus there.

Dexter Gordon — Doin' Allright (1961)

Dexter Gordon — Dexter Calling. . . (1961)

Both of these albums, in the grand Blue Note tradition, start off with unbelievable mid-tempo numbers that are so tuneful and so well done that you'd swear the label didn't even care what else the band recorded for the session; that first track was good enough on its own. The title cut "I Was Doin' All Right" on the formerly mentioned album is just lovely. Horace Parlan (an unfortunately neglected Blue Note name) shines on piano and Dexter, in his initial solo, just sounds like he looks. Just pure badass, tempo switching arrogance. Seriously: look at this dude:

That's what he sounds like on that cut. Yeesh. I will never be half as cool. A typically great ballad ('You've Changed') and some great be-bop to follow (mostly 'Society Red') and it's just another day in the books of Blue Note classics. Dexter Calling isn't much different. And I guess that's what makes these two albums so remarkable. Doin' Allright was cut on 6 May 1961 and Dexter Calling was cut just a matter of hours later on 9 May of the same year. With a completely different band, sure. But, that's what makes these two albums so listenable. 'Soul Sister' (which kicks things off) was probably the most soul-jazz oriented thing Dexter had yet done up until that point and I have a hard time believing that the previous rhythm section would have done it justice (Dexter is joined here by Kenny Drew on piano, Mr. PC on bass and the almighty Philly Joe on drums). It has a soulfulness —indeed, almost a funky aspect— to it that just sparks. And man, when Kenny Drew plays those blues in his solo, yeah, I had goosebumps the first time. The post-boppy 'Modal Mood' (composed by Drew) is Dexter at his hard swingin' 60's best. When he hits that soprano register in his solo, that is intense stuff, man. The ballad 'Ernie's Tune' (by Dexter) is surprisingly affecting, as it takes turns into minor territory where you wouldn't normally expect it and, again, the band is just completely in sync with Dexter's mood. Contains the outtake 'Landslide' and whoo boy, I'm happy as heck to find these collection fillers for cheap. Just so happens they're awesome too.

Horace Silver — The Cape Verdean Blues (1965)

I have neglected Horace Silver. I've always been hip to Song for My Father because, let's be honest, if you're only going to own one Horace Silver album, that's the one. And that was the one for me for a long time (years, in fact). I randomly found a later, more soul jazz-oriented album at the used record store about six months ago and I was really impressed by Horace's ability to sound contemporary in 1972, but also not bow down to the cheese factor that had started to infiltrate Blue Note at that point. Rewind to 1965 and this album and Horace is probably riding high off the success of the Song for My Father album. Meanwhile, he and Joe Henderson are still very good friends (because, let's face it, who knew who Joe Henderson was at that point?) and he's just vibin' off some soulful stuff. The title track on this album is so groundbreaking, I don't even know where to start. I just won't start, but I will say that Nicola Conte, the Five Corners Quintet and all affiliated acts would not have a career if such a song was never made. Holy moly, it's good. The sparse, minor-oriented 'The African Queen' is next and it's just a long groove. I know of few other jazz things from 1965 that sound similar. It's all restraint and repeated theme. Wow, what a good one. The rest is pretty much Horace's, for the time, status quo post-bop. Nothing unique in context, but still remarkably good. Do believe that the first released recording of Joe Henderson's 'Mo' Joe' appears here. What a stunner of an album.

Philip Selway — Familial (2010)

Is it just me? Or does his voice totally sound like this Morrissey song the entire time? I actually really like the album (especially since I expected not to) and was glad to find it for so cheap, but man, that's a dead ringer right there. 'By Some Miracle' was the pre-album teaser song and it's no wonder I never checked this one after hearing that: it's just ok. Arguably, the whole album is just ok, but there are much better tunes throughout the album. I must admit: I do like his no-nonsense guitar playing and modest vocals. I guess I'm just a sucker for the earnestness in every songwriter. I guess the big question here is: does any of it sound like Radiohead? Well, I guess, no would be the short answer. Is there a long answer? Of course there is! 'Beyond Reason', to my ears, could easily have an arrangement adapted to make it sound more Radiohead-esque. But, I guess, why should he sound like his band when his band sounds like his band just fine? Exactly. So, the horn-laced, 70's pop (Archer Prewitt-esque, perhaps) flourishes of 'A Simple Life' sound just right for those of us wanting to just hear some mellow stuff. His acoustic guitar and whispery middle range vocals are up front the entire time and it's hard to dislike music that is so blatantly earnest. There are tunes here, but they take a backseat to words. And the words that Phil sings on the album are perhaps the most impressive thing about this album. At once simple and poignant; you'd never know that the guy's day job was keeping his mouth shut in his other band. 'Broken Promises' especially strikes an emotional chord, as Phil is obviously talking about something even more personal than is the standard for the rest of the album and when he declares that 'Once the hurt has faded only love will remain', I have a hard time not getting into it completely. Not a super duper masterpiece, but good vibey mellow, low key and personable, through and through. Unexpected, to say the least. I dig it.

Sufjan Stevens — Greetings From Michigan: The Great Lake State (2003)

I was not into it at the time as a musical endeavor, but when Sufjan Stevens announced his fifty states project, I admired the idea from afar. A noble thought, I asserted. A few years removed, I'm admittedly a lot more open minded and just more in tune to acoustic music altogether. The idea of an acoustic guitar strumming, whispery-voiced, geography obsessive sounded like no fun to me then, but after I've lightened up, gone through some stuff, packed some emotional baggage and just learned the awesomeness of travel in general, I can really get into this guy. I know little about his background, but his claim to fame in the mid-2000's was being a spark in the "freak folk" scene (oh, for fuck's sake, why did we need to bring that up??!). I admit now, I purposely avoided him to be contrary. But, now that the hype has been removed and his albums are all on sweet deals at Borders, I decided to jump right in. Removed from the actual subject of its geography, Michigan is a neat and tidy little modern folk pop album. But —and here's where the kicker lies— Sufjan, in a genius move, uses the geographic points of discussion as jumping off points for these introspective-tinged songs of personal lament. It's almost as if, instead of the place itself, he used the morale of the places after which he named certain pieces as his muse. 'Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid)' may seem like a corny title, but the actual song starts off the weary and unsure album masterfully. The centerpiece of the album is 'Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)' which paints the picture of a once great heartland on the verge of resilience. Musically layered and catchy as heck despite a difficult time signature, I have to say, I'm sorry I missed out on such a thing the first time around. Overall, really solid stuff. And tunes for days. Sheesh.

Sufjan Stevens — Seven Swans (2004)

Less layered, more folky overall. Still has the exact same vibe as the Michigan album. I like that it's very much more low key. Why is he so obsessed with god and religion though? Sheesh. Lots of banjo up front in the mix, which is always fun. This strikes me, after just a few listens, as a much more deep listening experience. One that I'll appreciate a lot more the fiftieth time than I did the fifth. Will say this right now: the ballad 'To Be Alone With You' is nearly too good to be true. Shades of the pure solitary expression of being in love (mirrored on songs like this one), but mixed with a strangely surreal aspect. Overall, with songs like the title track and especially 'Sister,' it definitely takes on a distinct British folk-rock tone (think Unhalfbricking-era Fairport Convention) that just rules. Overall, a subtle change in sound, but not overall vibe. Which makes for just enough of a change up to make this one very worthwhile.

Sufjan Stevens — Invites You to: Come on Feel the ILLINOISE (2005)

Well, if nothing else, I can say I was definitely there and aware when this one came out. It was when I worked at Tower Records and I heard it at least once a day when I worked in the fall of 2005. I always dug it. I just got tired of it. It only confirmed what I had already told myself was true at the time: he was very superficially enjoyable and nothing else. No staying power. Wrong again stupid Austin (you are often a dumb fucker, now that I have the chance to be heard). I mean, dude. This is like the Michigan album on super no-doze ecstacy. That album times a million colorful, uber-creative, uncomfortably resonating doses, in fact. Often, you don't notice when one track develops into the next. The green party voter in me wants a thirty-five minute album, but the lover of gigantic musical mind movies weeps at the cohesiveness and unimpeachable continuity of this album. To be very cliche:

The way he relates John Wayne Gacy into an introspective mini-epic about the skeletons in everyone's closet is equal parts creepy and fucking fantastic. 'Chicago' was my favorite track then and it still is now. I guess it's become the one that folks go to from this album, and you know what? Fuckin' A, buddy. If he can take general locales and turn them inside out into genuine inspiration, I say right on. Shame he ditched the idea. But I also understand why. This seems to be the album that most people point to when his name comes up. Definitely understand why. It certainly is good, though.

Modern English — Soundtrack (2010)

Ok, well, I missed it. I shouldn't have, but I did. 'It's OK' is the first track on the album, so I guess I'll roll with that philosophy. It's actually pretty darn good. I mean, it sounds like an update of the uber-poppy moments of Stop/Start (minus the overproduction), mixed with the atmospherics of After the Snow in a contemporary context. Only Robbie Grey (who sounds awesomely similar to his singing voice in 1984) and Steve Walker remain from the band's heyday lineup, but the (currently and unfortunately) rarely heard from Hugh Jones is on board for a latter day production that matches the band with the man who provided them with the sound to create their greatest works. Robbie Grey's songs here are up and down (in mood — all pretty consistent in quality), mirroring the band's two masterpieces (and, admittedly, the two albums that I cite when I name them as one of my favorite new wave bands ever), After the Snow and Ricochet Days. That the band sounds good again and them joining back up with Hugh makes me just parrot to the rest of everyone else who actually reviewed the album last year: it sounds like their (good) old stuff from the 80's. It almost makes you want to want to go back to the albums they did after Ricochet Days with a new ear (I did say "almost" there). It's not super amazing, but it's darn good. It's a pretty good sign when a classic band reunites with the producer that made them sound great in the first place, but this just exceeds the standard across the board. The second half of the album does go a bit slow and moody, but the band was always prone to do that sort of thing all along. It's comforting when a genuinely articulate introspective jangly rocker like 'Up Here in the Brain' is followed by the moody (and downright great) slower numbers 'Deep Sea Diver' and 'Fin' (talk about awesomely, and yet, weirdly earnest lyrics here!). It starts very poppy and just goes very moody. Reminds me very much of Trembling Blue Stars and Bob Wratten's masterful later day output in general, actually. I'm late. But at least I'm here.

Crowded House — Intriguer Deluxe Edition (2010)

For your information, Neil Finn creates excellent dad rock. Just take that stuff, listen to it while you're sitting at your cubicle or desk and just relish in the awesome world-wise articulation. Relate to it or not, if you're over the age of 27, you're into it. You don't really have a choice, so just buy the deluxe edition, watch the DVD with Neil sporting his creeper mustache and sing along with all the words. You don't need to be married, you don't need to have kids; he knows it, everybody knows it. And he will sing it to you. Probably on a kickass twelve string guitar with a capo of some sort. This album has already been discussed. I will only add that the DVD is worth everyone's while. The "Upstairs at Home" portion presents a couple of songs in superior versions, while the documented live performance of 'Don't Dream it's Over' is chillingly good (audience sing along FTW!). I think higher of this album the more I hear it.

Sweet deals, I say. Sweet deals indeed.

Man.

~Austin

What's New?: 8.20.2011

2011-08-20T08:24:00.000-07:00

Some sweet mail order finds. . .

Gavin Friday and Maurice Seezer — The Boxer Soundtrack (1998)

Gavin Friday and Maurice Seezer — In America Soundtrack (2003)

I *ahem* "ACQUIRED" these two soundtracks years ago before it occurred to me to look for newer albums second hand. Catholic recently lit a spark for me to acquire proper copies and I did for cheap on Amazon. I had previously saved these albums on an external drive that crashed over a year ago, so I consequently lost them. Going back now, I like them more than ever, with a definite preference for The Boxer. It contains more variety and the music is more Gavin Friday-ish. So, in this sense, it's more like a proper Gavin Friday album. Spooky beats and lush strings amidst vocal cues from the film and two proper Gavin Friday songs (rather good ones, too) make for a darn fine listen. In America, on the other hand, takes on a more traditional Jewish sound for the bulk of its time (no doubt more fitting with the visual accompaniment; but not outright unenjoyable on its own). The actual score parts are much more sparse with long, floating melodies. The only proper song is 'Time Enough for Tears' which features Andrea Corr on lead vocals. Can't say I like it. Overall though, these albums stand apart from the films as their own entities. I always have to admire film soundtracks that I like without ever having seen the movies.

The Reegs — The Reegs (late 80's/early 90's)

You know, it's so easy for Chameleons fans to just jump on the Sun and the Moon when looking for more from the former members. The band released an album on a major label that has stayed relatively easy to find over the years and the main thing that most of us connected with (Mark's voice and lyrics) is there. But what about the other half of the band? Arguably even more recognizable than Mark's big booming wail and relatably insightful world wise lyrics was the dual guitar attack that the Chams had. Reg Smithie's overdriven melodic rhythm parts and Dave Fielding's gargantuan walls of swirling echo are the stuff of legend with good reason. Together, the two created one of the most distinct and influential sounds in 80's post-punk. But because they released records on the low key independent label Imaginary and never really gigged outside of the UK, their post-Chameleons project, the Reegs, has remained a bit of a shadowy, mysterious entity for Chams fans (especially for us in America). Well, along with the great deluxe editions of the proper Chams albums that Blue Apple Music has been doing the past few years, the boutique label also gathered up the entirety of the Reegs' output from the late 80's and early 90's and packaged it together as a two disc set. Fully remastered and restored with new artwork by Reg and now featuring outtakes, radio sessions and previously unissued recordings (including a brand new track called 'Bosnia 2009' in which Chams fans finally get to hear something we've all been curious about for a long time: Dave sings lead [!!]). The sound of the band is immediately recognizable for Chams fans, as pretty much every song here has that rush of Dave and Reg's inimitable dual guitars. There's a bit more of a dream pop element at play here. While there's certainly a lot of distorted and downright rockin' guitar sounds, there's never any real rock out moments that the Chameleons could explode into at any point. The entire thing hangs together exceedingly well and across the two discs, there's too many highlights to really cover all of them. My personal favorites so far are 'As You Leave', the trippy Cocteau-ish instrumental 'JJ180' and the epic swoop of melancholy beauty on 'The Nasty Side.' Overall, just a weird combination of sounds and ideas that shouldn't work, but does (perhaps surprisingly well). Two guitar players so in tune to the other's sounds and moods that to say they compliment each other seems inadequate, a drum machine and a bloke that sometimes sounds like Dave Gahan on vocals ranting about relationships gone sour. The only complaint I have: the liner notes were a bit disappointing, as no official band discography is offered. So, as the songs are not sequenced chronologically, it makes for a bit of a frustrating listen for my inner music curator. Overall though, really excellent stuff. So pleased to finally have it all in one place. Well done.

Tony Bennett and Bill Evans — Together Again (1977)

Finally got this one after years of knowing and loving their first collaborative album. This one has always been a bit more of a tough find, as it was originally released on Bennett's own Improv label. It sits very well next to the first album and even though I'm not a Tony Bennett fan otherwise, I really have to hand it to the way he sings these tunes. The best part is the song selection, as these are mostly tunes that was in Evans' repertoire at the time, so it's great to hear just how good he was as accompanist as he was as the highlight. This CD reissue has a wealth of bonus tracks, containing at least half of the album in alternate versions. Very mellow, pure class.

~Austin

What's New?: 8.9.2011

2011-08-09T22:28:00.001-07:00

Some bits found on sweet deals at the clearance sale at the local Borders. . .

David Bowie — Space Oddity 40th Anniversary Deluxe Edition (1969/2009)

You know what? I like David Bowie as a confused folk rocker. I do recall hearing the proper album in full many years ago whilst working at the used record store. But I was just into other stuff back then, so its great nuances didn't stick out like that back then. Of course, the title track is an all time classic (even though I've always preferred the lesser heard re-recorded version from the Scary Monsters sessions). But I, like many people, knew not much else from the rest of the album. When I went and properly revisited it, I rediscovered a wonderful folk rock opus. Sure, not unique at all when you consider what else was coming about in 1969. But, sheesh, Bowie is Bowie. He just has something about him that can't be denied. Maybe it's his sense of melody that makes something like the nine minute 'Cygnet Committee' a lot more engaging than it may appear to be initially. I also love that the majority of the material here is acoustic-guitar based. The proper album on disc one is a somewhat slow, meditative affair (explaining why I like it so much), while disc two indulges in pure dorkery of the highest order. One of the initial demos of the title track is included and it's just pure fun hearing the primitive synthesizers. BBC sessions, non album singles and differing single takes of album cuts round out disc two. And, with stuff like 'London Bye Ta Ta' you hear the Bowie that was in the making. A really fantastic highlight of the whole thing is the previously unheard 'Conversation Piece' which sounds, oddly enough, like a less rockin' Neil Young. It's already gotten numerous spins from me and I imagine it will spark a new re-interest of sorts to Bowie in general (even though I love him already; I guess consider him neglected).

Radiohead — Amnesiac Deluxe Edition (2001/2009)

Even though I have my reservations about releasing a "deluxe" edition of an album less than ten years after it was initially released (I imagine Capitol was pissed that they didn't re-align), I have to admit that having disc two of this thing is mighty grand. To have all of the album's eight (!!!!) b-sides in one place is definitely handy. 'Worrywort', 'Fog' and 'Cuttooth' are just godlike. It's no secret that Amnesiac is, by far, my vote for best Radiohead album. So this deluxe edition just seals the deal for me. B-sides? All fantastic. Live stuff? Revelatory. Although, why was the version of 'Like Spinning Plates' from I Might Be Wrong — Live Recordings included? (Smart guy: "Because it's epic, jackass" Me: "Oh, right"). Really just makes me think even higher of what is clearly a masterpiece. Closest Thom and the boys have yet come to being as awesome as the 80's post-punk bands they worship.

London riots: I lament you.

~Austin

Gavin Friday — Catholic

2011-08-07T20:51:00.000-07:00

Gavin Friday doesn't just make albums anymore. In the first fifteen years of his recording career (beginning with the Virgin Prunes and continuing as a solo artist), he released roughly eight albums. Since 1996's wonderfully weird pop experiment Shag Tobacco, he released some film scores (hard to credit as a true solo effort) and displayed several performance art pieces that were not recorded. To say that Catholic is a highly anticipated album —and, surprisingly, an unexpected return— for me is an understatement.

I honestly expected him to never make another album again. And yet, here he is: making his fourth solo album over two decades after his first. There is much changed this time around. The passionately falsetto vocal flourishes are still there, alongside the lush pop backdrops, but the streamlined production and toned down sarcasm is entirely new. Indeed, where he was artsy and playfully facetious in the past, he is now intimately dedicated to delving into his heart and mind. The melodramatic musical backings provide for the the calmest Gavin Friday album to date.

And yet, all of the this seems practically irrelevant when you consider one integral aspect: longtime collaborator Maurice "The Man" Seezer is nowhere to be found.

Amongst self-realizations galore, too many accounts of past mistakes and a generally nostalgic view of just about everything, the album reeks of personal revelations. That paints the picture of an album too dour for its own good, and yet, here is new collaborator Herbie Macken popping up in all the familiar musical positions that Seezer once occupied.

Oh, and Gavin declaring he is in love several times throughout the album.

At its core, Catholic is a breakup album. But, it's a little more complicated than just that. At the same time it's about loss, it's also about personal redemption. I have no idea who the bulk of these songs are about, but they do feel very specific.

Take a song like 'It's All Ahead of You' for instance. Besides it being quite possibly the prettiest thing Gavin Friday has ever done, it fulfills an incredibly articulate point of view from one estranged lover to another.

"It's all ahead of you if want it. It's all behind you, if you can let it go. . .Do you know that the best is yet to come?"

Wonderful stuff.

If I were to compare this to any of Friday's previous albums, I'd say it's most easily likened to Adam 'n' Eve because it takes on a very misleading stock "alt rock" approach; very polished on the surface, but carefully layered upon closer inspection. Instead of coming off as an overcooked cheesefest, every song offers a different approach to mainstream "alt-rock." The one track where the album actually does rock out ('Where'd You Go? Gone') sticks out on sheer dynamics alone (not to mention, it's easily a musical highlight).

With the closer 'Lord, I'm Coming' Gavin Friday recaptures his older theatrical persona, as he takes on the role of someone on their death bed and the realizations that encounter someone in that situation. A darkly beautiful homage to life's codas, it stands as an incredibly brain nutritious closer to an album filled with enough brain food to keep me going for quite a while.

It also just happens to be catchy as heck at the same time.

He has a way with words that has become refreshingly direct. He can say something convoluted one line and then redeem himself the next with the simplest arrangement of words. It's as if he is talking to someone so specifically that there is an aural paradigm shift that takes place and the most ambiguous words become the most appropriate. Therefore, all of us are drawn in and all of us can relate.

Album's defining quote: "Once I was young and then I grew up."

Don't wait so long to make another album, please.

~Austin

David Sylvian — Died in the Wool: Manafon Variations

2011-08-07T19:37:00.000-07:00

Listening to David Sylvian's post-millennium albums (save for Nine Horses, which was indisputably a crowd pleaser), you're just confronted with the darkest, dreariest side of the human mind. Most of the music is acapella and it has the sense to it that it was conceived by a man in total seclusion, just pondering away at his thoughts for hours in a starkly lit room over several cups of decaffeinated tea. Yeah: not tons of fun, but grounds for some serious soul discovering.

I kept my thoughts on the initial Manafon album brief because I found it a very difficult album to listen to. Truth be told, I've not gone back to it much since my initial few run-throughs. If the man has a knack for something, it's making his audience uncomfortable. But it's not in that Miles Davis way where I don't want to hear his next move. I just don't want to be able to relate to it as much as he is able to make me.

Make no mistakes, Died in the Wool is not a remix album in the same sense that The Good Son vs. The Only Daughter was. Where that album had guests take on the task of basically making the songs fully arranged with complete band backing tracks, Died in the Wool just simply makes the already sparse arrangements a bit more orchestral. Consequently, not as sparse, but not necessarily as immediately as accessible either. Indeed, most of the songs rely on a very post-modern classical ideal. The strings are atonal and unpredictable. Dissonantly beautiful one second, bleak and menacing the next, with accents of woodwinds and David's voice as the articulate centerpiece, Died in the Wool isn't so much a remixing job as it is a revision.

There are reused vocal tracks with new arrangements (and different titles) and some things that are just plain old brand new. If you picked up the odds and ends collection Sleepwalkers, you were treated to a couple of Manafon-period outtakes that, along with the proper album and this new revised version, make for the ultimate deluxe downer edition of the album.

As the music stands, I actually find this version the most listenable, as the string accompaniments are able to fill the space, but not clutter the dynamics. In the case of some songs —most namely, the title track— I would say that this version is an improvement. However, as such sparse music demands total attention on all of the elements, the vocals inevitably take the spotlight. David is bummed. He has been for a while. And yet, even when treading familiar water, he still finds ways to be poignant and articulate as few vocalists are able to be in contemporary times. I just wish he could look at the bright side more often (take, for instance, 'Small Metal Gods,' the one time that he does, and it's clearly the highlight of both versions of Manafon).

It's not until the all new, eighteen minute track 'When We Return You Won't Recognise Us' that it may occur to the listener that David Sylvian's music sounds like no one else' output, past or current. He is blazing trails into territory only hinted at by others. I often hear this music and think that while other combos are using a hybrid of instrumental prog and post-shoegaze sounds, David Sylvian is actually creating a music that is post-modern in its rock and roll singer pretenses. Blending atonal post-modern classical, hints of free jazz, glitchy post-production and a good old fashioned confessional singer/songwriter narrative, I think of his current output in the most literal interpretation of "post-rock" music.

I just wish he would tour America. Dammit.

~Austin

The Horrors — Skying

2011-08-07T18:18:00.000-07:00

I'm probably too old to be getting as much enjoyment out of this album as I am. But I've always said in the past that it's not an issue of how much you wear your influences on your sleeve — it's how you use those influences as a jumping off point that matters.

I know very little about where the Horrors came from. I mean, the basics are there: London band, started noisy. From what I'm to understand, every one of their so far three albums has been quite different from the last. But if Skying has anything to say about it, the band will be looked back upon as one of the most faithful —and simultaneously, one of the most creative— bands of the new millennium post-punk revival.

Sure, there's shades of all the greats here: Cure, Joy Division, et cetera, et cetera. But what really sets this album —and the Horrors in general— apart from their deplorably derivative and obnoxiously pretentious immediate predecessors is genuine interest and love of the music they are playing. Indeed, on Skying, it feels like honest restoration and not just a halfhearted attempt at recreating something.

Take an earnest approach to the usual 80's new wave influences and throw in a completely unforeseen shoegaze —indeed, a nearly psychedelic— element and you get a formula for something that would've been unique in 1991 — not to mention twenty years later. Indeed, when the small keyboard symphony of opener 'Changing the Rain' hits its chorus, it's clear that this band sticks out in 2011 — but not because they sound like they came from this generation.

For most of the album's fifty or so minutes, it settles into a very convincing dream pop groove. And, I guess, if I had one big criticism of it, that would be it: it sticks in that one lane almost too well (and I say this like we couldn't have thrown that same criticism at the Cocteau Twins all along). But, well, if it ain't broke, don't fix it (hello again there, Robin and Liz).

Truly, the band sounds absolutely enamoured with all of the great British rock music that was ignored by the mainstream in the wake of punk. The influences are countless and I can name drop bands for days that this album reminds me of, but I can't really say anything specific because there are just simply shades of influence. There are no direct nicks, be them through riffs or melodies. The band has just found a way to convincingly capture a snapshot of a vibe, a mood, a complete generation of sound.

Take a song like 'Endless Blue' for instance. Sure, in 2011, I can go and label it a complete Chameleons imitation. But, the fact remains, besides members of that band, I don't recall anyone doing a Chameleons imitation this well. Singer Faris Badwan seemingly can't help but sound like Mark Burgess (as he does for the entire album) while guitarist Josh Howard has Reg's tone nailed. Insert the flawless tempo and arrangement shift and I'm sold. Pretty stunning stuff, actually.

Amidst the rockin' and yet dreamy closing three song trilogy ('Moving Further Away,' 'Monica Gems' and especially 'Oceans Burning') is where the largest influence that looms over the album shines brightest. And I can't really help but love that, finally, someone has gone properly back to the Verve's A Storm in Heaven for inspiration, as it's one of the most sonically unique albums in modern British rock. Throw in some especially trippy moods lifted from Slowdive and you get a fittingly climatic closing to the Horrors' mini-masterpiece.

I can't say enough good about this album, honestly. Already a big fan of the music that clearly inspired it, I've been waiting for years for a band to come along and not just play new wave like like their favorite bands did, but to play it like they were there: simultaneously inspired by, and trying to outdo, all of their great peers.

Because this album surely would have fit right in with those greats had it existed twenty years ago.

~Austin

What's New?: 8.1.2011

2011-08-01T21:57:00.000-07:00

British pop stuff, mostly. . .

(but not "britpop" **shudder**)

Roachford — self-titled (1988)

Kind of an overproduced British soul-rock thing. I picked it up because it was name checked as a similarity to Terence Trent D'arby's early work. It's like that stuff, but a little less organic and more dated-sounding. The songs are a bit cheesy too. I don't hate it though, because it is a pretty convincing meshing of styles. Of all things, it reminds me a bit of the Style Council at times. I really do like the song 'No Way' as well. But overall, yeah, it's just ok. Glad I only spent 98¢ on it on Half.com.

Terence Trent D'arby — Neither Fish nor Flesh (1989)

Fuck the hate, this album is serious bidness. It's more organic, funkier and the songs are just all around better than The Hardline. Why could anyone deem this clearly superior product subpar? Because you're an asshole that got mad at him for challenging the Beatles. That's why. I think it's time we just address this right now: Good ol' merckah didn't take too kindly to that shit and it was high time for a backlash when he released an even better album in its wake. It's like what Prince was trying to do at the time, but better. 'Attracted to You' is about as close to James Brown as the 80's ever got, while 'Roly Poly' nearly outdoes Prince at his own game and 'To Know Someone Deeply Is To Know Someone Softly' makes a case for the tag of "Neo-Soul" being pure bullshit the entire time. I mean, seriously guys (who am I talking to?). This album kicks butts and takes names like it's been advertising that it's going to do such a thing for at least six months previous. Call him pretentious if you will, but definitely don't write him off because of it. Because this album will make a fool of you. I really like the dichotomy at play throughout the album that pursuing a relationship in a world so torn seems rather ridiculous, and yet it's still something most of us seek. A fantastically underrated album and definitely a candidate for lost classic status. Very easy to hear this album's influence on Maxwell as well (one of current favorites, to be sure). Love it.

Terence Trent D'arby — Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D'arby (1987)

This album has good songs, it just takes forever to get to the point with them. The very first song ('If You All Get to Heaven') is case in point. It takes a full minute for the darn thing to actually get to the tune! Not that I don't like a good build up, but the way it's done on this album feels contrived. And the formula is unfortunately repeated a few times. Of course, 'Wishing Well' is the big hit and it's definitely in the vein of those classic giddy, well-intentioned and resonating, but ultimately meaningless, catchy as heck 80's pop tunes (see also: 'Just Like Heaven,' 'Melt With You' and so on). The album mostly sounds like a more euro-centric Prince of the time (how much does 'Let's Go Forward' remind you of Lovesexy, for instance?). I do like it quite a bit, just not as much as his follow up album. To close with a classic modernization of 'Who's Lovin' You' is effective, I must admit. Still, there's a lot of dated sounds here. But that the album still stands up as unique statement and, considering when it was released, that says something indeed.

Shelleyan Orphan — Century Flower (1989)

Kind of Bowie meets Fairport Covention at a Fleetwood Mac show in 1978. It's got those big swooping choruses and riffy moments, but mostly played on acoustic instruments and a mesmerizing female vocalist in Caroline Crawley (she's actually a bit reminiscent of Harriet Wheeler). The first three tracks on this thing blew me away. One of the best (and most convincing) integrations of violin into a pop/rock context I've ever heard, honestly (seriously, check out 'Tar Baby'). The best thing about this album is its restraint. You feel like the choruses, though already very captivating, should be all noisy and relentless. But they're not. They're just there: lovely and reserved. Pure class. It is unfortunately a case where the band toploaded the album with its best material, as nothing else really recaptures the awesomeness of those opening three tracks. But it is a good album. Definitely.

Shelleyan Orphan — Humroot (1992)

A helping hand from Boris Williams and Porl Thompson (who were both, at the time, of the Cure) really helps the duo flesh out their songs and the potential really sounds fulfilled here. A wonderful little carefree jangler like 'Burst' seemed impossible on Century Flower, but it sounds totally natural here. The big one here is the incredible ballad 'Sick.' A meditation on the intense inner feelings experienced whilst in love, its sparse vibrato jangle and leisurely pace feels like a dreamy sea of realization amidst a galaxy of insecurity. The rest of the album retains the mild folk-rock elements from before, but it's just better executed here. Not a bad one in the bunch. Excellent stuff.

Seal — self-titled (1991)

I avoided it for so long because I remember 'Crazy' being on the damn radio everyone hour, on the hour when I was ten (or so it felt like). Do love his voice. Rough most of the time, smooth when it needs to be. The acid-house opener 'The Beginning' wins points with me because it's a song about music. I just like when music celebrates itself. Like, yeah, your broken heart is awesome, tell me about it and I'll listen. But what do I really want to hear about? How awesome music is! I mean, who can disagree with that? Assholes, that's who (apologies to deaf people everywhere!). It's big budget pop music. I like that some of the songs have mini-movements in them (take the acoustic first half of 'Deep Water' contrasting with the fully produced second half, for instance — that works really well). Enough time has passed for me to hear 'Crazy' now and appreciate it as just a really god pop song. There is a bit of U2-itis to the whole thing where the music seems to have this sense of self-importance that threatens to drown out the appealing tunes with a really "poignant" "message" that ends up being about nothing. But, at this point, that doesn't happen. The closer 'Violet' is just plain excellent. An eight minute meditation on the confused realization that it's time to move on from a failed relationship. It's the one track where the message is spot on and he totally nails it. The musical backing is nearly ambient in its scope, but with an added backbeat. It almost seems like the whole album builds musically to this track, as it literally saves the best for last. And it really makes you appreciate the production of the entire album. Sure, it's big budget Trevor Horn production, but I dig his work with the Pet Shop Boys from the same era for similar reasons, so I took to this pretty well. Bottom line: it's just good pop music, with a flair for the dramatic side of things. I mean, I can't imagine anything half as artsy (or emotionally affective) coming from a contemporary pop musician, can you?

~Austin

What's New?: 7.17.2011

2011-07-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

Budget shopping, bin scouring for bargains and just good ol'fashioned wheelin' and dealin'. . .

Nicola Conte — Jet Sounds Revisited volume 1 (2002)

On a whim, Dave notified me of a cutout deal on this double ten inch EP. The price was too good, so I couldn't say no. At the time, I thought I would just be getting something I already had on CD, but in a quirkier format (and I had never heard this stuff on vinyl, so hey). When I got the thing home, I was pleased as punch to discover that, despite there only being five songs spread across the two ten inch records, two of those songs were not included on the CD version of this album (of which I had and have enjoyed for many years). Indeed, the Dining Rooms' beat heavy, trip-hoppy remake of 'Jazz Pour Dadine' and the Freeform Arkestra's trippy, very outwardly-tuned "Traffic Replay" of 'Trappola Mortale' are like brand new tunes to me. Couldn't be happier, as after a bit of research, it seems volume 2 of the vinyl issue of the album contains nothing that's not already on the CD. Fate, as it were.

Mike Oldfield — Ommadawn (1975)

Indeed, Mike Oldfield, indeed. I've had a sort of mindshift in the last few months in regards to this guy. After I watched this (because I am, let's face it, an absolute whore for music documentaries; whether I care about the music being discussed or not), I was intrigued. I already knew and liked 70's Yes. But, why was Mike Oldfield being discussed? Isn't he a new age guy? The pieces from Tubular Bells played in the documentary didn't sound like new age music (at least not the crappy sort). So, a flip through a thrift store record shelf and I had me a copy of Tubular Bells for fifty cents. Brilliant stuff. Went back a few days later and grabbed the copy of Hergest Ridge for the same price. Liked it just as much, if not more. And now, this one. It's a bit more of a hard nut to crack off the bat. But I do like it. There seems to be a nearly overwhelming sense of melancholy to the whole thing, although it does contain some right beautiful passages on side two. This album, and the other early Oldfield works, very much remind me of things that I already love: floatier John Martyn, early Durutti Column, even Tangerine Dream at some points, etc. Great stuff, indeed.

Leonard Cohen — I'm Your Man (1988)

Leonard goes. . . synth-pop?! Actually, yes. I mean, why not, really? He was essentially an outsider to the folk-rock world that welcomed him in the late 60's, so why shouldn't he sound just as much like an outsider in the 80's, seemingly trying to sound like the Pet Shop Boys? I like how ridiculously dated it sounds. Primitive sequencers, completely out of place background vocals and everything just generally sounding like it belongs in an episode of Miami Vice (ok, maybe Miami Vice after smoking a few joints). The uber-dated sounds don't really derail Leonard's wry, husky baritone vocals and poetic (and predictably great) lyrics. Definitely a time period piece, but Leonard's vocals are the sole reason that anybody could listen to this in 2011 and still be engaged with the material.

David Bowie — Pin-Ups (1973)

I've long had a soft spot for this Bowie album. It's a covers record and, if nothing else, it illustrates just how captivating the Spiders from Mars were as a band, because, even though most of the material remains unchanged from the originals, the songs still take on a new life; a rockin'-out-and-lovin'-it sort of vibe that just plain works. Not his best anything, but I still find myself going back to it most frequently out of all the Ziggy-era albums. This is the version on Ryko which includes one b-side and one outtake. Bonus tracks, hooray!

Miles Davis — Amandla (1989)

After going back to Aura recently and finally venturing into the last third of this book (after years of just not caring), I went for the last studio album released while Miles was alive. I've written off this period in Miles' catalogue for so many years, admittedly without actually hearing much of it (I guess I just saw smooth jazz covers of 'Time After Time' and 'Human Nature' and panicked, wouldn't you?). After actually going in and listening to this album (and Aura), I can say I like at least some 80's Miles. This album does have gratuitous sequencers and synths, but there's really a sense of getting back to grooves and a sort of free funk sound. There is a very cool go-go undertone to most of the album and while Miles isn't in top form, he at least is having fun and doing more than just stating melodies. The closing song 'Mr. Pastorious' finds Miles playing be-bop again for the first time since the late 60's. It is one point where his playing sounds in top form again and it's a rather moving ballad performance. Colour me pleasantly surprised.

Miles Davis — Live at the Fillmore East March 7, 1970: It's About that Time (1970)

The only existing recording that includes this sextet (Miles, Jack DeJohnette, Airto Moreira, Wayne Shorter, Dave Holland and Chick Corea). This was recorded between two opening sets (one for the Steve Miller Band, for Neil Young and Crazy Horse; talk about mismatches) in the weeks before Bitches Brew was released, but a few months after it had been recorded. This is just ace stuff, all the way through. Absolutely scorching renditions of 'Spanish Key' are included on both discs, while 'Miles Runs the Voodoo Down' on disc two sounds trippier than anything either Steve Miller or Crazy Horse could've presented to the hippie audience. Besides Chick Corea's electric keyboards and Dave Holland playing a bit of electric bass (he mostly sticks to acoustic), this was an all acoustic band still. Exceptionally colourful and far reaching music, considering that context. Just killer stuff.

~Austin

What's New?: 7.6.2011

2011-07-06T11:55:00.000-07:00

More assortments of musical smorgasbord. . .

Kenny Wheeler — Gnu High (1975)

I've never been aware of Kenny Wheeler before, but as this is a quartet album, I was immediately interested upon seeing it because the rest of the band consists of Keith Jarrett, Jack DeJohnette and Gary Peacock. It's only three tracks and all compositions belong to Kenny, but my main interest in this set is the backing band, as I believe it was the first pairing of Keith Jarrett's now-famous trio (the only other meeting I'm aware of in the 70's was 1977's Tales of Another led by Gary Peacock — though erroneously credited to Jack DeJohnette in that link). The music on this session is definitely more relaxed and casually enjoyable. Not without its headier stock-ECM moments (especially on the long tracks 'Heyoke' and 'Gnu Suite' which feature unaccompanied solos by all members of the band), it's still wonderful stuff. And quite beautiful most of the time.

Radiohead — Supercollider/The Butcher 12" single (2011)

'Supercollider' is good. And weird, coming immediately after the King of Limbs. I mean, anything by the band following immediately after that confused and confrontationally short album would have been a take off, but to lead this single off with a seven minute long, pseudo-Brian Eno on Another Green World, all electronic meditation is a little bit awesome and a lot unforeseen. It's a really mellow track and I can't say I'm crazy about it, but I do like it. The b-side wins again, in this case, with the uber-tense, excellently paced 'The Butcher.' A swarm of samples, low-register keyboards and syncopated drum machines switching time signatures constantly, it's the sort of song that you hear and wonder what the world would be like without a band so unconcerned with developing a familiar sound. Right on for the darkness.

Radiohead — The Bends (1995)

Hard to believe the same band is still together sixteen years later and creating such different music. I "collected" this one back in my Napster days, but I hadn't heard it a mighty long time. And yes, it's still a sure thing: I don't like 'Fake Plastic Trees.' Never have. Never will. It's kind of funny listening to this album now, how guitar-centric the band was. But how gosh-danged tuneful they were. It's so easy to listen to the band from Ok Computer onwards and just take them at that. But a listen to this album and things like 'Street Spirit (Fade Out)' are still chill-inducing — and, not to mention, that one fits right in with their current repertoire. Overall, yeah. Totally good album. It certainly has its group of dedicated fans.

Arthur Verocai — Arthur Verocai (1972)

I seem to remember when this reissue came out and I was intimidated by the obscurity of the material, so I didn't check it out. Years later, I'm a casual fan of Brazilian music (and specifically, the era that this album came from) and looking for something to really dig into 'the next level' and I remembered this album. I'm glad I did, because it's really fantastic. It does have quite a similarity to Jorge Ben albums of the same time; maybe just not quite as all out FONK-AY and a bit more focused on arrangements than on pure grooves (though there's plenty of that, too). The actual tunes and melodies are excellent. Very catchy stuff. Overall, it definitely has a sense of uniqueness about it, as within the first five seconds of 'Caboclo', you hear a slow acoustic arpeggio and some bubbling electronics. There's slow, dreamy, superbly arranged moments like 'Dedicade A Ela' and a straight jazz instrumental called 'Karini (Domingo No Grajau').' So, a really solid album that covers a lot of ground in just thirty minutes. It certainly didn't deserve to exist in such obscurity for so long.

Neil Finn — One All (2002)

It sounds like Try Whistling This but without the rough edges. Still, like everything with his name on it, there's catchy songs for days and a very likable, mature, acoustic strummy base to everything. It's easy to see why, after going back to his solo albums and the albums with his brother, the more recent Crowded House material is much more straightforward and stripped back. Just pure, honest and earnest pop from one of the modern masters of the style. Good stuff.

John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman — John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman (1963)

Seriously, I didn't already have this!?!! I have so much Coltrane, I guess it was easy to miss this one, as I have the quartet box set that documents the year that this album was recorded, but since it's not just the quartet, it doesn't have this material. So, I guess that makes sense. In any case, it's very reminiscent of the Ballads album, except that Johnny Hartman sings and McCoy Tyner gets next to no solo time. Really mellow stuff and I've always loved to hear Trane play ballads, so this is a no-brainer for me. Their rendition of 'Autumn Serenade' is just absolutely sublime; definitely the highlight for me. Not completely familiar with Johnny Hartman before hearing this album, but definitely interested in hearing more.

Felt — Stains on a Decade (1980's)

I've known about this band for a while, but I was always way too intimidated by the size of its catalogue. Additionally, the rarity of those albums on this side of the world only compounded my apprehension. I came upon this best of collection by chance, for cheap, so I figured I should go for it because I may never come across it again (even though I normally don't like compilations as my first taste of a band). Upon a few initial listens, they sort of strike me as Orange Juice meets the Field Mice. There's fifteen jangly tunes collected here that are full of catchy hooks and whimsical, esoteric vocals. Overall, it's a compilation, so it's of course all over the place, but I can't say there's a song in the bunch that I don't like. It's all pretty good, and I was especially pleasantly surprised to hear Elizabeth Fraser duet on a song ('Primitive Painters' — and a peak at the liner notes reveals that Robin Guthrie produced about a third of the tracks on the collection). Overall, really good stuff, but I now face being in the frustrating situation of liking the band, but knowing that the only thing I have by them is a fragmentary representation. Dah well. The search continues.

~Austin

I wish I had the patience for Facebook. I really do.

2011-06-30T01:47:00.001-07:00

But, instead, it's like. . .

And I'm all. . .

Fucking FALSE presentations, man.

~Austin

What's New?: 6.28.2011

2011-06-28T22:14:00.000-07:00

I don't know, man. I can't explain this combination. . .

Big Boi — Sir Luscious Left Foot. . . The Son of Chico Dusty (2010)

I mean, I get that Big Boi is trying to do something different and establish his name outside of OutKast as his own brand, but this sounds kind of crappy, for the most part. Musically, it's interesting at times, for a synth-heavy production. I guess that's my main problem with it: OutKast used to stand out musically. A groundbreaking swirl of live instruments, samples and electronic beats. The sounds were modern, but natural. But here, it just feels like Big Boi is emulating, instead of originating, sounds. I was actually one of very few people in the world who preferred his half of OutKast's precedent-setting "two solos packaged as group album" Speakerboxxx/The Love Below. In fact, I've always contended that Big Boi's Speakerboxxx was actually, musically speaking, the more boundary-pushing of the two albums. And his tracks on Idlewild (an album that I actually came to admire, despite feeling fairly lukewarm about initially) had an incredible grasp on the pop and "weird" aspects that OutKast's music had always possessed. But this album. I dunno. It feels, at times, like Big Boi doing a send up of the contemporary music climate's obsession with ultra-shiny, somehow retro-80's, synth-heavy production. And granted, his view of this sort of thing is a much more unique and melodically rich interpretation, as an OutKast fan who bought ATLiens on its release date and sat uninterrupted staring at the stereo to take it all in that night, I can't help but feel like he's regressing. Sure, there's grooves and nice little hooks throughout, but where 'The Way You Move' achieved its success because of similar vibes, it felt genuine and humble. Pretty much all of this material seems to strive to recapture that same vibe, but it feels a lot less sincere. All the porno references and juvenile-minded skits just don't sound convincing coming from a guy that's approaching 40. Big Boi just seems to be going through the motions for the most part. There's nothing even as substantial as 'Morris Brown' here and I never thought anything from the OutKast camp would dip lower than the Idlewild album. The only song here that even approaches that old OutKast feeling is 'The Train Pt. 2 (Sir Luscious Left Foot Saves the Day)' which finds Big Boi and Organized Noize in absolute sync in a moment highly reminiscent of Aquemini. I held off on buying this one when it was new. So now, roughly a year later, removed from the hype, I can't even begin to express my disappointment. Sure, for overproduced, crappy modern synth pop, it's top tier. But for someone from the mighty OutKast to stoop to that level and release something as lacking in substance as this, I can't help but feel like a little bit of my musical soul has died. Because most of this music is devoid of just that. I'm baffled by the overtly positive reviews it initially received.

Mark Isham — Miles Remembered: The Silent Way Project (1999)

A recent nostalgic revisit to David Sylvian's Secrets of the Beehive made me listen to Mark Isham's playing and think to myself that I needed some of his own albums in my life. I saw this one for very cheap on Amazon and figured it would probably be the best gateway into his music: I was curious about his playing and I already loved Miles, so it would be a very easy listen. After reading a lot of reviews of Isham's albums and knowing that he was generally classified as a "new age" musician, I have to admit, I was apprehensive. However, if that is the case, this album betrays his other works. Because he is basically playing a very faithful rendition of electric fusion-era Miles. With a couple of surprisingly convincing originals inspired by Miles' fusion era (the screaming, busy fusion of 'Internet' and the outright jaw dropping ambient ballad 'Azael') and a radical reworking of 'All Blues', the source material here is all covers of Miles' 1967-1973 material. A seriously funked up 'Spanish Key' (which really plays up the explosive nature of the tune) and a downright wonderful reading of 'Ife' don't hurt things at all. Honestly, going in expecting new age music, the closest thing here is the rendition of 'In A Silent Way' which he brilliantly medleys with 'Milestones.' But even that double feature has arguably a better grasp on space and ambiance than the original did. Peter Maunu and Steve Cardenas are great on guitars, doing their most appreciative John McLaughlin and Pete Cosey imitations the entire time. Overall, really hard for me to dislike an album of somebody playing music in this period of Miles' career with so much care. Not mindblowing, but enjoyable as heck.

David Crosby and Graham Nash — Crosby & Nash (2004)

It does feel a little bit cheesy at times. Still, knowing that these guys really are just hippie idealists, the tunes come off as light, but having a naive appeal. I am a bit disappointed that, of the two discs contained here, disc one is so top-loaded with songs not written by David or Graham. It should be no surprise, then, that the first truly interesting song doesn't pop up until track three (Crosby's vintage sounding 'Through Here Quite Often' which comes complete with the awesomely naive lyric, "They say don't talk to strangers, I say why the hell not?"). Overall, the production is very samey and unfortunately compressed (say goodbye to all those dynamic harmonies from the old albums!), but the new tunes written just by David or Graham are quite nice, I must confess (in fact, Crosby's 'How Does it Shine?' which closes out disc one is completely vintage and totally good). Very comfortable, folk rock sound. Not amazing, but definitely good for fans of the duo.

Cocteau Twins — Treasure (1984)

Always fun to revisit a classic. I know I've had this album before, but I don't know what made me part ways with it. Anyway, it's a winner, through and through. Everybody seems to love the everloving bejesus out of 'Lorelei' and why not? It's definitely one of the Cocteau's catchiest moments. I've always thought 'Otterley' was a really underrated song. I would like to officially propose it as the starting point for 'Falling Through the Ice' by the Ocean Blue. 'Pandora' is great too, isn't it? Yeesh, what great music. I can't even imagine how unique it must have sounded at the time. Wonderful stuff.

~Austin

What's New?: 6.22.2011

2011-06-22T20:12:00.000-07:00

More musical odds and ends. . .

Gary Numan — Telekon (1980)

I avoided anything post-Pleasure Principle for years, again, because of what I perceived to be an authority (but which I now realize is just a source for good information — a place where I should probably just ignore the editorial views). I mean, sheesh, this is Gary arguably doing the Pleasure Principle part two. But hey, last I checked, the Pleasure Principle was pretty much a one of a kind, era-defining album. So, to have the same guy that did that do a not quite as good redux doesn't really strike me as a bad thing, altogether. And hey, I'm essentially right, because Telekon is basically the same sort of detached, exquisitely layered, early synth pop — all it lacks is the one knockout blow that Pleasure Principle had with 'Cars.' Telekon captures that epic keyboard mini-symphony sound that Pleasure Principle captured so well initially. It's not more produced or more shiny or lacking hooks or any of the usual cliches that usually apply to albums following huge hits. It does lack the one big hit, but that's only because I'm looking at it in retrospect. I imagine, if I was there in 1980, anticipating it after Pleasure Principle, I'd be pleased as punch with it. And, with the inclusion of mini-post-'Cars' masterpieces like 'I Die: You Die', 'The Aircraft Bureau' and pretty much the bulk of side two, I find no faults with this one. And, perhaps most importantly, I see myself going back to it often just because of the unfamiliarity of the material.

Gary Numan — Dance (1981)

And this one, also despite lacking a big 'Cars'-esque hit, should be as highly regarded as anything else in the early run of Gary Numan's catalogue. Sure, it mostly ditches the analogue synths and the adopts a very pronounced fretless electric bass sound, but that's just the thing, isn't it? For the first time since arguably Replicas, Gary is evolving and getting more interesting. There is a very slow, slightly dark undertone to the whole thing. But the sheer scope of the album has to be marveled at. There's not one, but two nine minute epics ('Slow Car to China' and 'Cry the Clock Said') that are just about the best things with Gary's name on them that I've yet heard. Overall, not my favorite Gary Numan album, but easily number two, just because of the new sounds it contains. There's shades of OMD, Japan and old Numan material on this album, combined with a new sense of ambition and a grasp on space and longing melodies. Cool stuff.

Led Zeppelin — Houses of the Holy (1973)

Probably the best synthesis of Zeppelin doing the hard rocker and folk rocker thing simultaneously. They got bloated after this, but for this album, everything feels genuinely exploratory and new. The fully successful integration of keyboards into songs like 'Rain Song' and especially 'No Quarter' only ups the ante in the debate of the people versus Led Zeppelin as original songwriters (hint, they certainly didn't nick those riffs from anywhere that I know of). They do fall back on the old blues cliches a time or two, but less than ever; especially for a Zeppelin album. I will begrudgingly admit that this is a damn good album, and probably the band's most diverse and just best overall.

Pink Floyd — Music from the Film "More" (1969)

More early post-Syd, pre-Dark Side Floyd. Arguably my favorite period of the band. I'm already a self-confessed fan of "mess" and/or "transitional" albums and the Floyd made a few of those in these years. It's got some more rockin', strangely garagey moments ('The Nile Song') alongside purely instrumental, nearly ambient goodness (the excellently floaty 'Quicksilver' and a lot of the second half of the album). So, yeah. Strange times and lots of druggy sounds. I dig it. The lyrics aren't as preachy as they would come to be and the music is a lot more interesting than the guitar jam-focused affair that the Floyd would become in a few years (not to say that that wasn't good for what it was; I just prefer a little more diversity for diversity's sake). Really good stuff; and, if nothing else, just goes to support my "Pink Floyd as early progenitor of post-rock" philosophy even more.

Echo and the Bunnymen — Crocodiles (1980)

No excuses for not having this one around previously (especially since I've had the rest of the band's 80's output in my collection for years). I recall hearing it, roughly ten years ago, thanks to Reno legend Chris Hubbell, ad nauseum. So I definitely recognized a chunk of the songs on the proper album. But, wow, when I go back and sit down with it: quite a striking debut, to say the least. It's like Joy Division swirled around with some outright psychedelic moments. Fantastic post-punk stuff and it's hard for me to grasp that this was only the band's first album and that they had so many more highlights ahead of them. A classic of its era, that's for darn sure.

The Comsat Angels — My Mind's Eye (1992)

Finally, a physical acquisition after years of only having it digitally. I will maintain the same thing that I have since I first heard it: it's overrated by quite a bit. The band doesn't help either. Going around, raving about how they just loved recording it. Yes, it's good. Very good in comparison to some of their previous albums, but it's not like this thing is even seeing Sleep No More or Fiction (and, in fact, I'd argue that the Glamour is actually the better of the Comsats' two 9o's albums). There's no bad songs here and this deluxe (or, more like, "revised") edition on Renascent is the definitive. It definitely sounds like the band trying to be less intentionally commercial, but it does have a bit of a cheesy sound at times (especially in the guitar effects). Still, it is very consistent and, for the first time, there are some downright rock out moments that finally fulfill the urge to do so that the band had seemingly had since its early days. Overrated, but still worth the time and money.

Ben Webster — See You at the Fair (1965)

Ben Webster was one of the grandaddies of bebop tenor sax and it took him a long time to finally be able to lead smaller group sessions. But when he finally was given the opportunity to do just that, he just started rolling out album after album after album of downright classics. Mostly leaning on the smooth jam/classy ballad side of things, he honestly never sounded better. I guess file this one into that same category because it is completely in line with the precedent with its conspicuous greatness. Hank Jones is ace on piano and Ben sounds downright godlike for most of the material. He plays these long, melodic runs that aren't necessarily flashy, but jeez oh man, are they inventive (and, not to mention, completely awesome). The best part about the music Webster was playing in the later years of his life is that it retained a strong blues influence, without sounding irrelevant. He was genuinely inspired during these years and I'd like to think that he mostly stuck to ballads because he was wanting to be purely melodic and intentionally beautiful (mission accomplished). This edition of the album on Impulse is the definitive, gathering up bonus tracks from a label sampler and the best of Webster's features on Oliver Nelson's More Blues and the Abstract Truth. Just glaringly awesome stuff.

The Cocteau Twins — BBC Sessions (1982, 1983, 1984, 1996)

This magnificent two disc set definitely presents the case for the Cocteaus as one of the quintessential post-punk bands to emerge from the whole thing. The first tracks here are from a John Peel session in mid-1982 that predates the release of the band's seriously underrated first album and they find them full in blazing, wah-wah'd out drum machine glory. The last of the 8o's sessions documented here finds them running through three tracks from Treasure about a month before the album was released and sounding like they had the absolute true believer faith in the material (in fact, I'd nominate the version of 'Otterley' as played here to be the definitive). The two sessions from the 9o's that round out disc two are nothing if not intriguing. They provide a view of the band's neglected later day material with a more immediate take and, despite the drum machine being absent, fit right in with everything else here. And, if nothing else —amongst a smattering of rarities— three of the Cocteaus absolute best songs ever get two renditions a piece (that'd be 'Hitherto', 'From the Flagstones' and the epic 'Musette and Drums'). Really spectacular stuff.

~Austin

What's New?: 6.16.2011

2011-06-16T21:12:00.001-07:00

Bits and pieces, old and new, so on and whatnot. . .

The The — Dusk (1993)

Although very popular as one of the big budget alt-rock bands of the late 80's and early 90's, The The is nearly forgotten these days. Poor Johnny Marr; some of his best post-Smiths was distributed amongst what have now become footnotes that only dorks like me know about (that would be Electronic and the topic of this review, The The). As The The is essentially Matt Johnson's guise for himself and whoever he happens to be recording with at the time, you have to approach every single album under the moniker as an entity unto itself. I've had a rough go of things with the band, honestly. I've bought up (and then traded back in, a few months later) the whole of the group's 80's output two or three times over. And yet, the past time I did that exact same thing, I held onto everything from Burning Blue Soul through Mind Bomb. I put in the work, vigilantly listened through headphones on the bus and several walks around town and I guess I finally got it, because I found the band's four 80's albums taking up nearly permanent residence on my iPod. Dusk though, is another chapter entirely. My best initial description is that it's Mind Bomb meets Burning Blue Soul. That big budget production and decidedly resonating left-field songcraft meets full on artsy tunefulness. As always, Matt Johnson is melodramatic as hell. But, in many ways, this feels like his true masterpiece — the big, overbearing finale that he's been working towards all along. 'Slow Emotion Replay' is pretty much godlike. Arguably Johnny Marr's best recorded harmonica performance accompanied by Johnson's most earnest lyric ever ("Everybody knows what's going wrong with the world, but I don't even know what's going wrong with myself") combine for a magical moment. The overtone here is, as opposed to Johnson's outright anger at religion, a genuine disconnect with social interpretations of what "GOD" is or may be and a complete plunge inwards to explore that very same topic. If it weren't all set to a totally great big budget (arguably dated, but nonetheless appealing) slightly Americana tinged musical backdrop, it may not have the resonance that it does. But when Johnson sings the chorus, "If you can't change the world, change yourself and if you can't change yourself, change your world" on the album's closer 'Lonely Planet' it feels very honest and maybe like he actually believes it. Affecting stuff. Shouldn't have waited so long to check it out. Arguably the band's best album.

Miles Davis — Aura (1985)

A tough turkey, to be completely sure. I love Miles, without question but I have firmly avoided his 80's material after being duped (i.e. Yes, I'm taking shots at Scott fucking Yanow again). However, a friend of a friend (who happens to be a novice Miles scholar in his own right), mentioned to me (at a chance meeting) that Aura is really the only 80's Miles that stands up with his pre-retirement material. And, first things first: it sounds NOTHING like his other 80's albums. That's for damn sure. It's a kind of modern classical/free funk hybrid. And its compositions were by a Danish guy (by the name of Palle Mikkelborg) who based the chords on letters from Miles' full name. And it's the last album that Miles recorded for Columbia (and, subsequently, the last one he had nothing but good to say about; his own words: 'Masterpiece'). The 80's cliches of big, overtly echoey drums, cheesy guitar effects and borderline embarrassing synthesizer sounds are present. But, in his solos, Miles sounds truly inspired. In the middle trilogy of tracks 'Green', 'Blue' and 'Electric Red' he sounds invigorated and inspired, not intimidated, by the overtly "modern" production sounds. I mean, hell, I praise for David Sylvian, Jon Hassell and Talk Talk albums of the same period for essentially the same things that I've subtracted points off of Miles' 80's output for so long. A lot of reviews I've read compare this to Miles' work with Gil Evans and while I definitely don't hear that, I guess I do get it now because, in addition to (awesomely) sounding like an inspiration to David Axelrod's 90's albums, I hear a definite similarity between what Mikkelborg and Miles were doing here and what like-minded rock bands were doing within the context that they knew. Very heady and nearly soundtracky music. I guess, consider it Miles' last truly artistic hurrah. Just be ready to deal with dated production.

Mazzy Star — Among My Swan (1996)

Oh, Mazzy Star. How I heart you so. This band. And this album! This fucking album right here! Have accompanied me through a lot in the last few years. And yet, I've never actually owned it. Bless and curse the internet all the same, in that regard I guess. Certainly their least exploratory and safest album, Among My Swan still strikes me as Dave and Hope's overall most accomplished album. It's also definitely their most acoustic-based. Things like 'Cry Cry' and 'Disappear' are downright pastoral, when you really take a step back and consider it. Will Reid's feature on 'Take Everything' is an indie dork landmark and really representative of the whole album: a boozy, slow-paced haze of an album. It's always been my favorite of the band's three albums and it's pretty darn relevant, even fifteen years after the fact. Loverly music, through and through.

Mazzy Star — So Tonight that I Might See (1993)

What the band is remembered for, and rightly so, as it's a darn fine album. Of course, the big hit was 'Fade Into You' and it still holds up after this long. But I still prefer the quieter, more acoustic-based side of the band. 'Five String Serenade' is unstintingly wonderful and things like 'Unreflected' and 'Into Dust' only make me happier. The title track ends things sounding like Crazy Horse meets the Pentangle and I can't help but think that this is one of weirdest hit albums of the 90's.

Jon Hassell — Fascinoma (1999)

I mean, Jon Hassell just does something else entirely all the time. Is it jazz? Is it new age? Is it ambient? No, not quite. And yet, it could easily fit into any of the above. I think I've actually found the manifesto for people who have the boldness to ask me what his music sounds like. And it's on this album. His Martin Denny-meets-electric Miles makeover of 'Caravan' (retitled here 'Caravanesque') is an in-general statement of purpose for a master. Funny how this album is now over a decade old and yet, it still sounds completely new and wonderful. I really should have more Hassell albums around. No excuses.

~Austin

Trembling Blue Stars Live

2011-06-14T20:31:00.001-07:00

Hey kids—

As you are all probably well aware by now, I am a ridiculously big Bob Wratten fan. I've clamored to see the man live for at least five years now. But the problem is some twats booed him or something on his last tour and he figured that playing live was not worth his time.

Whatever.

I was not astute enough to catch him on his last venture along the west coast in 2002, so this is just about as close as I'll get: A thirty minute solo acoustic audience recording from 14 November of 2002 at a place called the Co-op (presumably on or around the UCLA campus): download here.

This incredibly cool person uploaded video of the set on YouTube and I have ripped the the audio from there as a zip file.

Do enjoy. Because it is quite revelatory for me.

~Austin

PS — Please advise if there are any issues with posting this audio and I will delete all links and files immediately. I only share because I do believe the man is genius and needs to be heard in this setting more often.

Post-Punk Summer (original 2008 mix)

2011-06-13T15:55:00.000-07:00

I did this mix three years ago in the midst of horrible wildfires burning all around Reno. Surround by grey smoke, orange sunlight and 90 degree temperatures, I thought these songs accompanied the atmosphere pretty well.

Enjoy.

01 Joy Division — Transmission (John Peel Session) (1979)
02 Throwing Muses — And a She Wolf After the War (Doghouse Cassette demo) (1985)
03 The Sound — Hothouse (John Peel Session) (1981)
04 Modern English — The Prize (1982)
05 The Comsat Angels — Independence Day (1980)
06 Translator — Nothing is Saving Me (1982)
07 For Against — Shine (1986)
08 Tones on Tail — Burning Skies (1983)
09 The Chameleons — Swampthing (live) (1987)
10 Sonic Youth — I Dreamed I Dream (1982)
11 The Psychedelic Furs — All of this and Nothing (1981)
12 The Cure — A Chain of Flowers (1987)
13 The Go-Betweens — Twin Layers of Lightning (1986)
14 The Durutti Column — Bordeaux (1983)
15 The Jesus and Mary Chain — On the Wall (demo) (1987)

Download link.

~Austin

What's New?: 6.11.2011

2011-06-11T20:15:00.000-07:00

A wealth of stuff; let's get into it. . .

Uncle Tupelo — Anodyne (1993)

Re-acquisition, of sorts. I know I've known this album before, but I just can't honestly say if I've ever actually owned it (my Napster days are kind of hazy). In any case, I can honestly say that I didn't get it however long ago I first heard it. I think I checked it out because I was really into Yankee Hotel Foxtrot at the time and I wanted to dig deeper. I was just then getting into Neil Young for the Crazy Horse aspect of his music, so while I definitely was able to appreciate (and still do love) 'The Long Cut', things like 'Slate' and the (now I realize to be awesome) title track were completely lost on me. With contemporary ears, I hear a very solid, distinctly American, modern folk rock album. Very good stuff and I now feel like I need to dig into Jay Farrar's post-Tupelo work.

U2 — New Year's Day 7" single (1983)

Essentially purchased and graded for its b-side: 'Treasure (Whatever Happened to Pete the Chop).' A seriously rockin' tune, it's very much worthy of the rest of the War material from which it can be most certainly aligned with. Good stuff — I tacked it onto War as a bonus track and it fits right on.

Dream Command — Fire on the Moon (1990)

This is the MIGHTY Comsat Angels recording under a different band name through a series of convoluted events. Released only in America and Holland. I avoided this album for years, even as a huge Comsats fan, because of one main thing: this review. Just further proof that AMG may be an invaluable information source, but that their editorial portions should be taken with a grain of salt. I mean, sure, it's the Comsats going for a pretty dumbed down sound. But, honestly, besides the keyboards being mixed in a bit louder here, it's not all that different from Chasing Shadows. A revisit to Renascent's awesome To Before collection revealed an interesting new perspective of 'She's Invisible' 'Venus Hunter' and especially 'Ice Sculpture.' I mean, I can sit through this album just fine and hear plenty of characteristics that I love about the Comsats: Steve Fellows' plain, but expressive vocals, Kevin Bacon's distinctive basslines and an all around sense of great, but purposely sparse guitar playing. I actually like it. I mean, hell, the Cure have made worse records than this and they're universally more well-respected than the Comsats. It's a hell of a lot better than 7 Day Weekend, that's for sure.

Marvin Gaye — What's Going On deluxe edition (1971/1972)

So much has been said about this album —and specifically, its words— that I perhaps have taken it for granted over the years. Sure, I've always had it in some form (in fact, this purchase replaces my beat up old original vinyl) and it's always struck me as a pleasantly bleak experience, I don't know how much I really have been able to appreciate it on its own merits. Sure, I dig it. And its title track is one of the greatest pieces of American social commentary ever written, but I don't know. I guess I've always been kind of bitter that Marvin went on to make, speaking from a production point of view, two of the greatest albums of the 70's in its wake (Let's Get it On and I Want You) and those albums always take a back seat to this one because it's "important." Fuck that, if Bob Dylan can spit out ridiculous stream of conscious tone poems on Blonde on Blonde (an album I happen to love as well) after years of writing "important" music, then Marvin should also be able to delve inwards (in a more sensual way) and get just as many accolades. But whatever, the baggage is what it is. The music press has re-written this album into its place in popular music history as it has. I still love it and hearing it in the two mixes presented here —the originally released smoother mix and the rough around the edges "Detroit Mix"— definitely gives me a new perspective on the album. The extras beyond that are generally excellent. The "rhythm and strings" mix included at the end of disc one is so good, I can't even do it justice with words. Besides harmonies, it, if nothing else, singlehandedly makes one realize that it's more than the words that make this album great. The original single version of 'God is Love' is a dream come true for me, as that has always been my sleeper favorite on the album. It sounds like much more of a stock Motown production of the time, but slows the tune down so it lasts three full minutes. Rounding things out, you get a nearly full performance of the album live that is valuable for nothing else than Marvin just fucking with the band — and the band never faltering one bit. An earlier take of 'Flyin' High In the Friendly Sky' (titled here 'Sad Tomorrows') is great, while 'Head Title' is a very early demo for 'Distant Lover' and clearly points the direction to where Marvin was headed. Overall, I have a new perspective on this album and I like it even more after hearing this edition — which is the point, after all, isn't it?

Marvin Gaye — I Want You deluxe edition (1976)

Just godlike status, basically. The title track on this album is one of the greatest songs ever written. Funk rock fuzz guitar swirling badass manifesto. Goddamn perfection, basically. I've always loved it. Always will. The "Vocal and Rhythm" mix presented here is just about as fucking revelatory as it gets for me. The song is such an amazingly swirling musical stew that its hard to forget one of the best singers of all time actually sang on it. But that version, if nothing else, illustrates how unique Marvin's arrangement skills were. He multi-tracked all the vocals on the song and he sounds downright incredible harmonizing with himself. Unbelievable. The instrumentals, alternate mixes and extended jams on the tunes give the listener a relevant insight into the sessions for the album and it's pretty darn interesting to hear how 'I Wanna Be Where You Are' originally started as a rambling six minute ode to Marvin's family — pretty much the antithesis of what most people would have surmised from the title. The two previously unheard songs —'You Are the Way You Are' and 'Is Anybody Thinking About Their Living?'— are fantastic. Overall, sheesh, why did I wait so long? Marvin's best album (yeah, I said it), finally given the proper treatment it deserved all along. Just alluringly good. Classic as they come and enhanced.

David Sylvian — Died in the Wool - Manafon Variations (2011)
I will review this properly in the next few days. . .

~Austin

What's New?: 6.5.2011

2011-06-05T19:20:00.000-07:00

Couple of new releases on vinyl — both of which, surprisingly, did not come with digital download redemption codes. . .

Death Cab for Cutie — Codes and Keys (2011)

Color me downright pleasantly surprised. I was very excited after the one-two combo of Narrow Stairs and the Open Door EP. I watched the premiere for the performed live 'You Are A Tourist' music video and the song did not blow me away. It was a change, because the pre-album singles for their last two albums ('Soul Meets Body' from Plans and 'I Will Possess Your Heart' from Narrow Stairs) blew me entirely away right off the bat. But, with this new material, I didn't really feel compelled to go back and play it again right away. It was "just Ok." I bought the nice double 180 gram gatefold cover vinyl edition because it just felt right. Got it home, dropped the needle and turned up my old Carver stereo. Including sounding dynamically great, the material is actually really good too. I will have to mirror the wealth of other reviews for the album that point that it's not very guitar heavy. But they've been heading this way since Plans, haven't they? Keyboards have always been a part of the band's sound, but this album finds them to be central to the melodic ideas offered up. Nick Harmer's basslines are still very prominent and Chris Walla is still around to add echoey harmonic accents to everything, so it doesn't feel —to me— like as much of a one-eighty as some of the reviews I've read would have had me believe. The tunes are all very reminiscent of 'Different Names for the Same Thing' from Plans. Very likable, melodic stuff with buildups developed in post-production. 'You Are a Tourist' sounds amazing smack dab in the middle of the album, at the end of record one and there is an undeniably positive warmth that the band hasn't possessed since Transatlanticism. Songs like the title track and the downright impressive 'Doors Unlocked and Open' feature a newly invigorated Gibbard spewing some of his most enthusiastic words ever. It's still cynical positivity. But it's positivity nonetheless. I really didn't know what to expect from this album, but it's arguably the DCFC pop masterwork. It does come off as a bit too sprightly with songs like 'Stay Young, Go Dancing' but I can't help but admire the absolutely genuine positivity in the material. It's infectious. And therapeutic. Marvelous stuff. I will be curious to see what I think of it in six months.

Crosby & Nash — Another Stoney Evening (1971)

I've always been a huge fan of this duo since I first got into the whole CSN+Y family of albums a few years ago. This was recorded in the buildup to their first album and, unlike the official live album that was released later on in the 70's, this is just David Crosby and Graham Nash performing without a band; just two guitars, two voices. It was released, for the first time, on CD in the mid-90's and was just released last month on vinyl for the first ever. I waited and bought it on vinyl. I'm glad I did. It's a very nice gatefold double 180 gram vinyl issue and it sounds excellent. I don't know why it wasn't released at the time. The version they play of Crosby's 'The Lee Shore' is practically definitive. Lots of stuff from that first Crosby & Nash album, plenty of CS+N stuff and, much to my delight, about a third of Crosby's If I Could Only Remember My Name. Overall, serious stuff and very warm music. I don't want to get too deeply into adjectives and stuff because music like this needs to be heard to be fully understood. There's a dichotomy and undeniable chemistry at play here that just bleeds with resonance and fertility. I am pleased that it was documented for my hungry ears to get a hold of eventually. Fantastic.

~Austin

What's New?: 6.2.2011

2011-06-02T22:20:00.000-07:00

Love Tractor — Love Tractor (1982)

An instrumental jangle album! Has anyone ever gotten to the point where you feel you've reached absolute music nerd terminal velocity and you just don't think you can progress any further? I've kind of felt that way over the past year. I'm not a shredder when I play guitar. I like Robert Smith. I like Peter Buck. I like John Martyn. I like sparsely difficult guitar playing. I like saying more with less. Where has Love Tractor been all along? I watched Athens, GA: Inside Out while I was home sick last week (with a fucking inner ear infection, if you can fathom that extra helping of ultra irony) and I was intrigued at how nonchalantly the band just tossed out that they —initially— didn't feel like they needed vocals. Fucking A, man. Is the album any good? Hell yes it is. Very much reminds me of 83/84 era Durutti Column where Vini was just unsure of whether or not he wanted to sing and, every once in a while, would bang these unbelievable instrumental songs that somehow managed to be simultaneously floaty and catchy. So, yeah. This first Love Tractor album is totally reminiscent of some of my favorite Durutti Column material. Maybe in a bit more of an angular way though.

Love Tractor — 'Til the Cows Come Home EP (1984)

This thing starts off with one of the most amazing 80's pop songs I can't believe I've gone this long without hearing before. Perfectly understated keyboard accents, humble vocals and a heavily effected 12-string make for a downright lost classic. Holy moly, I love it. It even has 80's sax, ferchrissakes! More instrumental floaty jangle songs, a genuine (although failed) attempt at a funk song ('Greedy Dog') and a revised song from the first album (with an actual fresh take on the tune) performed live and the whole thing is over. Overall, the sort of stuff that 80's indie jangle guitar nostalgia is built upon. Not perfect by any means, but the sort of thing I continue to scour used bins for.

Love Tractor — This Ain't No Outer Space Ship (1986)

By this point (their third album), the Tractor had fully integrated vocals into their sound. It's ok. They still have a great dual jangly guitar sound, but they seem to be writing intentionally poppier material — and that just doesn't fit them. Sure, a song like 'Neon Lights' was great, even with vocals, but that's because it still retained the floaty, nearly ambient sound of their earlier work. These are mostly dumbed down pop songs. I guess it's indicative that the best songs here are the two instrumentals ('Rudolf Nureyeu' and 'We All Loved Each Other So Much') because they seem the most inspired. Great guitar sound throughout, though.

Pink Floyd — Meddle (1971)

Re-acquisition. I have known this album for a long time, but have not actually owned it for several years. I know I've owned it before, I just can't say exactly when or why I ditched it. It's good, but very scatterbrained. I guess, of all the "classic" period 70's Pink Floyd albums, it's the one that makes me most understand the comparisons between the Floyd and Radiohead. I do have to say that, of the shorter songs on side one, I definitely prefer the more acoustic-y, conventional numbers 'A Pillow of Winds' and 'Fearless.' They remind me of Neil Young, actually. Very good stuff. Catchy and poignant. Of course, everybody knows this album because of the sidelong epic 'Echoes' and rightfully so. It is definitely one of the progenitors of what we now understand as 'post rock.' Shifting time signatures, cascades of guitar effects and just a general idea of presenting rock music as more of a long form "serious" minded thing; 'Echoes' is a piece of the blueprint, for sure. Good stuff.

Bob Dylan — The Bootleg Series, Vols. 1-3 : Rare And Unreleased, 1961-1991

A wealth of stuff, but jesus christ. The ninety second long demo of 'Like A Rolling Stone' is better than anything most people would dream of recording. The best part is: you don't need to know the stuff that was released at the time to appreciate this. The demo for 'If Not for You' (which, indeed, features George Harrison just fucking godlike status on guitar) is fascinating, for instance. It sounds like neither George's version, nor Bob's own previously released version. Fawn over all this stuff as most people do, it's essentially worth sitting through these three CDs worth of material for the Blood on the Tracks demos and outtakes. It's been well acknowledged by many folks (myself included) that Blood is probably Bob's most enduring (and probably downright best) work, but christ on a crutch, just hearing those more sparse works from the surrounding sessions is just revelatory. When Bob sings "We had a falling out, like lovers often will" atop just a solo strummed acoustic guitar on the demo for 'If You See Her, Say Hello', it injects new life into the song. I can't even begin to describe how much incredible music is contained on this set. I get more and more into Bob Dylan as I get older and I guess it's easy, in retrospect, to take for granted just how brilliant he was — and how consistently so. This set —consisting of nothing but things that were deemed unfit next to his released perfection— puts it all into context. He was so good for so long that it's easy to forget just how good he was (and is). Incredibly good.

~Austin

What's New?: 5.27.2011

2011-05-27T18:46:00.000-07:00

U2 — Under a Blood Red Sky (1983)

U2's first live album — and a good one too. The song selection is bit on the crowd pleasing side, but with the addition of two non-album songs ('Party Girl' and the especially great '11 O'clock Tick Tock') it really goes past being just for the die hard fans. The versions played here aren't very different from their studio counterparts, mostly just played a bit faster. The way Adam Clayton's bass is mixed in 'New Year's Day' finds him taking on an almost Peter Hook-ish tone, which doesn't necessarily work, but ultimately makes the song stick the most out of everything they play. Absolutely no surprises, but gosh darned good in any case.

Midnight Oil — Place Without a Postcard (1981)

Pretty standard pop/rock sound on this album. Glyn Johns' production is clean and no nonsense. The songs are probably better for it, although it does get a bit samey. No duds in the bunch though. And, as always, the band is political without sounding too preachy (I mean, anybody who gets as political as they do is inherently a little preachy). I really like the more introspective rocker 'Basement Flat' because it captures the lonely feeling of isolation that one often experiences in city living. Overall, it's a good indicator of the whole album. Of all the Midnight Oil albums I've checked out so far, it's by far the least assured as far as subject matter goes. Still, I dig it.

Jon Anderson — Olias of Sunhillow (1976)

It basically sounds like a super mellow Yes album. No guitar noodling from Steve Howe or ridiculously fast keyboard twinklings by Rick Wakeman. There is nothing here musically that you would not see coming if you are a Yes fan. I guess there's a lot to be gotten out of the story that accompanies the album, but I haven't really dug into that aspect of it (and don't really plan to, honestly). I like it mainly because it takes all the little short passages of really pretty bits from Tales from Topographic Oceans as its jumping off point and just gets really mellow and really tuneful. Jon Anderson sings about the same sort of "mystical" nonsense as always, but it's in his great tenor range, so it all sounds good. Like all good things Yes-related, it's best moments are most appreciated when you take the entire thing in. As a fan of 70's Yes, it certainly satisfies my appetite for more of that sound. But, on its own, not amazing or anything.

Midnight Oil — Diesel and Dust (1986)

All produced and super shiny sounding, but gosh ding dang, the songs are fancy, aren't they? 'Beds are Burning' is so popular your grandma probably likes it too. 'The Dead Heart' was the other big single off the album and it's good too, but I think what I was really surprised at was how strong the whole thing is. It actually reminds a lot of U2's the Joshua Tree because both this album and that album were made by bands who had recorded (and had hits, here and there) for years before really hitting it big and both albums had a surprisingly dark tone to them, especially considering how popular they became. But, where the Joshua Tree just gloomed up its entire second half, Diesel and Dust ends with the awesome jangly pep talk of a rocker 'Sometimes.' So yeah, really good mid-80's big budget guitar rock. And hooks. Did I mention there's hooks for days on this thing?

Midnight Oil — Blue Sky Mining (1990)

Probably my favorite of the band's albums I've checked out so far. It takes the "sophisticated arena rocker" guise that Diesel and Dust began and perfects it. Blue Sky Mining feels like it's their best fusing of the political and the introspective. The title track is case in point. The great follow up, the 12-string jangler 'Stars of Warburton', just ups the ante with probably the band's best hook ever and the rest of the album follow suit. Mid-tempo rockers with jangly undertones and layered, thoughtful production. Sure, its keyboard patches and guitar effects date it by now, but the material is so strong, that doesn't matter. To end with the yearning, haunting ballad 'Antarctica' is just excellent. Really good album. Totally scored a sweet clear blue vinyl copy, too.

~Austin

The Sea and Cake — The Moonlight Butterfly

2011-05-19T20:00:00.000-07:00

Either the band's shortest album yet or their best EP, the Sea and Cake is back and they've released another collection of songs that feels —yet again— like a breath of completely fresh air. While they've certainly done their share of branching out past their humble dual jangle guitar roots in their seventeen year career, with Car Alarm, they reasserted their prominence as one of the best jangle guitar bands around and this new one just coasts along on similar vibes.

The question of whether or not this is Sam Prekop's band is answered, as the title track here is a nod to his abstract experimental synthesizer revelation (last year's Old Punch Card), but it is so in a more streamlined way. It sounds straight out of the Old Punch Card sessions, but revised to fit the mode of the band. It's a sparkly soft synth instrumental that absolutely shouldn't work coming right after two charging washes of pure Sea and Cake pop magic —that would be the vintage super fast S+C opener 'Covers' and it's surprisingly psychedelic follow 'Lyrics' (which has an Eric Claridge bassline is so good and so melodic that you'd swear he was trying to be Peter Hook)— but instead, 'The Moonlight Butterfly' plays as a dreamy interlude.

The big shocker here is 'Inn Keeping' which, at ten and a half minutes, is the longest thing the band has yet recorded. At times, it almost feels like one of those 1980's "Extended mix" versions of songs that popped up on 12" singles that would awesomely drag a song out by letting each layer, each riff and each piece of the song build into the track every two or four bars and then just keep riffing away at the tune for another four or five minutes. I hesitate to call it one of the band's best songs just yet, but holy hell is it good. If nothing else, it showcases the Kraut Rock side of the band (which they have always possessed) in clear daylight. Sweet.

Sure, the heavy synthesizers from One Bedroom are back and all of them have a very similar sound to the tones heard on Old Punch Card (heck, even a fairly concise song like 'Up on the North Shore' ascends into layers of white out analogue bliss), but it's all filtered through the band's (rediscovered?) sense of longing melodies and their absolute perfection of layers of pure jangly harmonic euphoria.

It's easy to neglect a band like the Sea and Cake. And yet, they never let me down. Album after album, defiant change in sound, defiant non-change in sound or just flat out playing what sounds good, they have become something that is pretty much unquestionable in terms of criticism by this point. Sure, it's easier to sit back and admire at the pure beauty of their music, but it's also necessary to do that first, in order to fully understand why I love them for what they do.

Predictably outstanding.

~Austin

What's new?: 5.19.2011 Part Two

2011-05-19T18:30:00.000-07:00

Some random bits and pieces. . .

Dire Straits — Communiqué (1979)

Also found this one on the cheap and figured I should go for it since I just got the first album the other day. I like it, though it does sound like outtakes from the first album, honestly. A bit more of a reliance on standard blues rock cliches, maybe. But, again, as on the first album, it's all filtered through that wonderfully clean (Telecaster?) guitar tone that I just love. Not much to say about this one, but the songs are good — just not as consistently good as the first album. Highlights for me are the building 'Where Do You Think You're Going?', the 'Sultans of Swing' rewrite 'Lady Writer' and the great mellow closer 'Follow Me Home.' Overall, I think this one may actually capture the mood of early Dire Straits even more than the first album, it just doesn't have the higher highlights.

The Sea and Cake — The Moonlight Butterfly (2011)
Review coming shortly. . .

David Sylvian + Holger Czukay — Flux + Mutability (1989)

I've had Plight and Premonition for years and have known about this one for even longer. I always swore up and down that I'd buy it if I saw it. Well, I never saw it. So, I finally just ordered a used one from Amazon. It's actually really good. The first track ('Flux') and its subtitle ('A big, bright, colourful world') are actually very representative of the album and are in very stark contrast to Plight and Premonition. It's a lovely little seventeen minute tune that features an expanded band with David and Holger being joined by Michael Karoli (guitar), Markus Stockhausen (flugelhorn, of course) and Jaki Liebezeit (percussiony stuff). Of the four longform pieces that came out of David and Holger's collaborations, I'd say it's easily the best thing they did. 'Mutability' (subtitle 'A new beginning is in the offing') is a slower and much more sparse affair. It actually reminds me a lot of the ambient stuff on Gone to Earth in that it has a basic chord progression that it follows faithfully, keeping the piece from feeling like it ever rambles or serves no purpose. It's actually very soundtracky, come to think of it. Where Plight and Premonition was scattered and somewhat dark, Flux + Mutability is full of peace and satisfaction. In a very short time, it's become my favorite of the two albums. However, I can see why both are relevant. Good stuff.

~Austin

What's New?: 5.19.2011 Part One

2011-05-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

All dollar bin finds. . .

Led Zeppelin — Led Zeppelin IV (a/k/a 'Zoso' a/k/a 'Untitled') (1971)

Technically a re-acquisition, but never really heard with contemporary ears (read on for the full story). This would be the unidentified grey spine on the top of today's scan. I've really had a tough go of things with Led Zeppelin, honestly. I bought up their entire discography when I was twenty because I worked at a used record store and felt like I should dress it, if I was going to play the part. Never really got into it, honestly. Soon learned about all the stealing (or "borrowing" if you prefer it that way) they did and just couldn't jive with the longhaired rockstar attitude mostly. Fast forward ten years and I'm a Fairport Convention fan and kind of a lonely guy, so I'm prone to musical chance taking. Zeppelin IV for a buck? Why not? And guess what? Despite the stealing, despite Robert Plant's still kind of annoying screamy voice, I like it. It fulfills that "rockin' out" urge that I get every so often. I found Zeppelin III (easily the band's most "folky" album — a sure fit for me) at a thrift store (for seventy seven cents, no less) a few months back, so I've been taking that in as well lately. And I genuinely like it. I guess I can look past all the "borrowing" and rockstar posturing and just appreciate this (and III) for just really solid albums of a bunch of guys sitting in the studio just vibing off the same creative wave. I've been very outspoken in the past about how much I couldn't stand these guys, but, all along, I've been too much of a classicist to fully subscribe to that. Overplayed as it may be, you really do have to marvel at the outright scope of 'Stairway to Heaven.' It's essentially the first "power ballad" if you would like to apply that term. 'The Battle of Evermore' is the highlight for me because it takes the folk rock explosion and legitimately translates it to the hard rock crowd. Good stuff. Surprisingly.

U2 — Boy (1980)

October (1981)

and War (1983)

I've had a go of it with u2 over the years, as well. If you look at what they were doing and when they were doing it, it should have been a no-brainer that I should be into them. But, as I got into them in retrospect, I always had a hard time separating the band from the early 8o's from the Bono-led behemoth that I knew from the early and mid-9o's. A mixtape from Dave a while back (awesomely subtitled 'The Lillywhite Years' and fully consisting of material from these three albums) put me into a different train of thought entirely. Sure, I knew 'I Will Follow' and 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' already. But what about 'An Cat Dubh' (and it's awesome segue into the equally awesome 'Into the Heart') or 'Stranger in a Strange Land' or even 'New Year's Day'? Yeah, I fucked up by judging the band by its contemporary output and not their roots. All three albums are just undeniably strong post-punk. The Edge's guitar —with all of its Mike Oldfield, John Martyn and Vini Reilly influences— is just ace throughout all three albums. And while I find that I like the first album the best, October seems to me to be very underrated. Because it's the most consistent of the three, by far, It lacks the gargantuan highlights of the two albums that surround it, but it's the more listenable of the three albums, that's for sure. Still, as solid as all this stuff is, I give the ultimate nod to the first album, just based on pure sound. Any album with a side one that strong has to be the best something. I still prefer Unforgettable Fire (and, to a lesser extent, Joshua Tree) to all of these albums. But good god damn, pleased as punch to finally have them around at my whim.

Midnight Oil — 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 (1983)

and Red Sails in the Sunset (1984)

I've long-avoided Midnight Oil for some reason or another. I have an early teen memory of watching Peter Garrett flail around like a madman on Saturday Night Live and thinking something along the lines of, "Australia must be weird." Who can say no to spending two dollars on a band you've wanted to check out for years? Certainly not I. 10 is a good record, but overwhelming. I mean, sheesh, it starts with the weird paranoia of 'Outside World' erupts into the schizo rock of 'Only the Strong' and then moves into the dark jangle of 'Short Memory.' And that's just the first three songs! It does have a strong strummy alt-pop base to it all and it especially gets good on side two. But I think the band really got cluster-effingly great on Red Sails in the Sunset. It takes all the angry, liberal Cold War paranoia to its absolute extreme (just have a look at the cover) and the tunes are there with just about every track. It is very mazelike, as songs will end abruptly and the next song will begin almost immediately, but it's pretty darn seamless and the whole thing hangs together as an entire piece. The subject matter, by nature, is pretty dark and this all comes to head with the first three minutes of 'Jimmy Sharman's Boxers' sounding like something not that far off from the Cure's Pornography. Overall, two really solid albums that I feel like I've really only touched the surface of so far. It will take many more listens for these to fully absorb.

Dire Straits — Dire Straits (1978)

It's been said before, but it's relevant as hell, so why not repeat the same old stuff: Dire Straits, especially on this album, was like a classic folk rock band playing through a post-punk mindset and production philosophy. I mean, to hell with the rest of their catalogue. But, seriously, listen to Mark Knopfler's jangly twangy guitar sound. How can anybody not love the George Harrison-style slide guitar on top of low-key, tunefully wah-wah'd rhythm strums and a nearly ambient sensibility in the atmospherics? Seriously, what is it that makes the sound of this otherwise nice (and, admittedly, refreshing; especially in 1978) roots-rock album so engaging? I guess that's just it: the low-key, genuine and stripped down sound of the production. Maybe it's because Mark Knopfler was nearly thirty by the time he released this album, but he sounds downright past all of the hype. Seriously, is this the band's first or last album? I can't tell. Much like R.E.M., they certainly never made another album quite like it. The riffs are definitely indebted to the blues, but sometimes, like on the rightful standout 'Sultans of Swing,' they take on a weird, angular pattern that clearly betrays the album's origin. Mark Knopfler may have known every Dylan and Robert Johnson lick in the book, but he was (perhaps subconsciously) playing with the punks and their offspring in mind. So, ultimately, this may be the perfect album for people like me: the type who have a short patience for classic rock and the blues as interpreted by 60's/70's rockers, but who also do love to hear that thing when done right and, most of all —and most importantly— love the punk and the new wave philosophy. Because this album certainly has all of that.

Romeo Void — Never Say Never EP (1981)

Basically continuing in the vein of their classic first album It's A Condition. I've always been a big proponent of that album since I first heard it about a decade ago. And, unfortunately, it's somewhat of a (still) lost American post-punk classic. Like the good independent-minded band that they were, they kept on and released this EP the same year as their debut album. It's pretty much a continuation of that album, with a bit more of a sheen in the production. But still, wow at how good these four songs are. Could've taken some of these, switched them out for lesser moments on It's a Condition and had a really stunning album that would've competed with the post-punk goliaths. Instead, I hear it as another swipe at greatness by a band that simply didn't know any better than putting the lyric "I might like you better if we slept together" in their initial shot at the charts (wtf do I know — it's actually their most popular song in hindsight). The other three songs here have that awesomely dreary post-Joy Division dark jangle sound to them, all laced with Ben Bossi's appropriate new wave sax and Deborah Iyall's articulately bleak words on human interaction. The whole thing is great and really makes you appreciate the band as one of the unsung heroes of American post-punk. 415 Records: salute.

~Austin