What's New?: 3.25.2013

Been accumulating stuff for a bit now.  Let's just get into it.

Hope Sandoval and the Warm Inventions — Bavarian Fruit Bread (2001)

I've been getting back into Mazzy Star lately because it's something I can play in my library before the kids arrive and it just sets the scene really nicely and makes the day go by, not necessarily faster, but a little smoother.  I skipped this when it was new because of one review and I never looked back until now.  Bert Jansch guests on 'Butterfly Mornings' and that's pretty much the best example I can give for why this album is good (he's also on the equally as gorgeous 'Charlotte').  There's a couple covers, too: JaMC and Leonard Cohen.  The whole thing is slow and dreamy and gorgeous.  Basically what I hoped her work beyond Mazzy Star would be.  The unlisted track 'Sparkly' is perhaps even more like Mazzy Star than proper Mazzy Star and it's a finale to an album that just gets better every time I play it.  Also: Mazzy Star reunion, ya'll!!!!! (i.e. I'm late as hell and nothing else actually came of it sadface.jpg)

April March — Chick Habit (1994)

I used to have April March's entire catalogue, but I don't know.  One day I thought it wasn't cool anymore and that was that.  Now, I know I'm not cool and I never will be, so time for me stop trying to pretend like she doesn't make wonderful music.  French pop revival that's as true and genuine as if it's the real thing.  April's voice has always been something I've just loved unconditionally since the first time I heard it, so it seems like it was just going to be a matter of time before I came back.  There's a couple Serge Gainsbourg covers and Jonathan Richman is about, contributing guitar to some tracks, so you know it's good.  My favorite April March song has always been 'Cet Air-La', which takes the original by France Gall and turns it into an acoustic ballad that transcends the campy (but still great) original and becomes something else entirely.  That one on its own is worth it.

Dinosaur Jr. — Green Mind (1991)

Basically a J. Mascis solo album.  From what I understand from hardcore fans, this is kind of considered the beginning of the end for the band.  But I. . . uhhhh. . . I kind of like it.  I was not there at the time, so I have absolutely no emotional strings attached to this band.  Hearing it now, though, it sounds great.  I like the self-aware, world-weary, Crazy Horse-inspired sloppy-yet-tuneful approach this album has.  Yeah, it's totally self-aware, but the tunes are completely great.  Leadoff track 'The Wagon' is a good manifesto for this album: noisy, yet somehow melodic.  I love the balladeering, melancholy aspect of these tunes.  It's as if everything has a hindsight view before anything has actually happened.  The proposed centerpiece 'Blowing It/I Live for that Look' would indeed be the highlight if not for, late in the album, when things get very deep on the most inspired song, 'Water.'  The influence of Neil Young looms heavy over tunes like this, but that's not even anywhere near a bad thing, as it's quickly become one of my favorite new discoveries.  That chord that he hits leading into the chorus is so odd, and yet so inspired — just, wow, I guess.  What a tune.  Lineup changes be damned; this album is darn good, if you ask me.

Dinosaur Jr. — Bug (1988)

The band's last pre-reunion album with the original lineup.  And yessir, it's a good 'un.  Noisy and melodic and ever-so-subtly jangly.  Reminds me of a less abrasive Sonic Youth of the time, actually.  Every song here has a wonderful minor chord tone to it and this album essentially pre-dates the dominant influence of Neil Young that would soon loom large over Dinosaur's music, so it's proven to be a very influential little piece of work.  'Pond Song' has the best example here of the jangly/noisy dynamic that I'm finding to be very retroactively awesome these days.  'Course 'Freak Scene' is the one that everybody remembers from this album and with good reason as it pokes fun at, and simultaneously celebrates, the burgeoning indie rock culture.  A very unified album, I'd say it deserves its reputation (well, except for that puzzling last track).

Bad Brains — Rock for Light (1983)

Ric Ocasek-produced second album by the seminal DC band.  Been too long that I haven't had anything in my collection that accurately represents the beginning of American new wave (besides the Ramones and all those jangle bands I love, of course).  I know dick about the harder core side of punk, but even someone with a passing interest in the stuff hears the same thing all the time: if you're only going to fill the spot for hardcore punk in your collection with one band, it should be Bad Brains.  And they are, of course, not really a representative example of the genre, by any stretch of the imagination, as they'll go fast blast beats, complex noisy guitar lines and shouty whiney vocals most of the time only to dip straight into roots reggae and go straight back to the rawk.  The reggae songs are alright, but almost feel like afterthoughts when you consider most of the album goes for the jugular.  There is some poppier material like 'Banned in DC' (a redux from their first album) and boy oh boy, is it good.  I guess the main thing that I really like about this album is the passion in the playing.  It's impressive to me that they can basically play a style of music that I'm not very well-versed in and that I'm maybe even unsure whether I like or not, and yet, I still enjoy what they did with it and can feel something in the performance.

The Durutti Column — Red Shoes (1992)

With this acquisition, I've completed my catalogue of Vini's proper albums (still missing some of those harder to find compilations).  It's from 1992, so it has that awkward late 80's overproduction that Vini was still clinging to (and he was still stumbling with samplers), but I find that his guitar playing to be at its ambient best in this period, so there's always something redeeming.  See the long track 'Pete's Riff' for an idea of what I'm talking about.  Not an out and out success by any means.  But some true Durutti gems to be discovered when Vini stops trying so hard and just follows his heart.  The album has a secondary part called Greetings Three attached to it and those four songs are a bit better overall, dating from 1986.  'All That Love and Maths Can Do' is the most well-known tune among those tracks.  Highlights on Red Shoes are when Vini stays stripped down: the wonderful 'Song for Les Preger' has a riff that vaguely recalls one of his previous tunes, while 'The Crowned Goddess' is an absolutely incredible tune that manages to be bleak, beautiful and one of the most emotionally intense tunes Vini's ever done.  Spotty, but totally worth it.

Beachwood Sparks — Make the Cowboy Robots Cry (2002)

I just happened to check these guys out on based on the strength of their brilliant Sade cover and I thought they were like a dreamier Buffalo Springfield revival — NOT BAD!  This mini-album finds them going full on into that direction and I have to say, it's really good.  The opener 'Drinkswater' is a brilliantly manic song that shifts, changes and morphs through several movements only to travel back through them all.  There's another big seven minute, starbound epic called 'Ponce de Leon Blues' a couple songs later and it just cements this disc's status as an ambitious and darn fine affair.  A couple shorter twangy pop songs that close out the disc (highlight 'Ghost Dance 1492') and if nothing else, it's an eye-opening precursor to Sub Pop's acquisition of Fleet Foxes a few years later (seems the folky country rock didn't come from out of nowhere, after all).

The Rolling Stones — Beggars Banquet (1968)

'Sympathy for the Devil' is obviously why everyone likes this album.  One of the best, and intentionally offputting, songs of all time.  Have to marvel at just how thoroughly brilliant the lyrics are (catchy tune as well).  Otherwise, this album seems like the beginning of the Stones' effort to become an Americana band.  Taking their cues from the Kinks' dip into folky, twangy textures, it's easily the most resonating Stones album I've yet to hear in full.  'No Expectations' seems to channel equal parts Otis Redding and Bob Dylan.  Fine and dandy, actually.  And, you know, I'd say it's very middle-period Kinks sounding.  Chunkier and with a lot more reliance on "the blooz" thrown in, but there is a sense here of self-righteous, inward delving-via-roots music-edness.  'Jigsaw Puzzle' is another good one in that regard.  Nothing else here really sounds like 'Sympathy', but this album is actually a really unified affair, outside of that song.  The more I hear this middle period Stones stuff, outside of the hits, the more I like it.  Really like it.

Dead Meadow — self-titled (2000)

Dead Meadow does things low, slow, fuzzy and with plenty of wah-wah.  Sounding like Black Sabbath riffs filtered through early Pink Floyd effects pedals, but played with a nearly festishized intensity.  Throw in some good old 70's-inspired fascination with mysticism and the deal's sealed.  You either like it or loathe it at this point.  Here's 'Dragonfly', probably the album's poppiest number.  Most of the album sounds like 'Beyond the Fields We Know', just so things are very clear. It's just that, this brand of true believer revivalism is downright unheard of for what is essentially nerd rock for stoners.  And, I don't know, Dead Meadow has this unpredictable aspect to them to just go ahead and get floaty psychedelic (dig that first ninety seconds) at any given time.  Fun.  And loud.  Though not necessarily in that order.

Dead Meadow — Shivering King and Others (2003)

This one came out right around the time I started working at Tower so I heard it a lot back then.  The title track was my favorite then and it still is now.  Reminds me very much of the headier longform stuff Led Zeppelin was doing on Houses of the Holy (yet, somehow, even better).  It's six minutes of buzzing acoustic pysch atmosphere that is absolutely brilliant.  In general, the songs here are longer by nature and this one hangs together a little better as an album.  'Golden Cloud/Me and the Devil Blues' is about as good a statement of purpose that I can come up with for this band: ten minutes of buzzing, low end trippiness.  Yeah!  The album ends with two more atmospheric songs: the floaty 'Heaven' and the extra trippy 'Raise the Sails.'  Really pretty good stuff, if you're into the sound.

Miles Davis — Live in Europe 1967: The Bootleg Series Volume 1 (1967)

Just when you thought Columbia had milked the Miles Davis vaults dry!  But no, not meaning to get all cynical guy right away because this set is just as necessary as any of the previous sets that Columbia has released documenting this band.  It won't make you understand any better why they were one of the all-time greats, but it will enhance your argument for that stance.  It's in the days right before Miles' groups would start inventing fusion, so it has a wonderful sort of "before and after" feeling where the band will literally play a searching, borderline dissonant tune like 'Footprints' and then follow it up with old standbys like 'Round Midnight' or 'On Green Dolphin Street' (and it's great to hear just how far the band stretches these otherwise tame tunes).  At three discs, plus a DVD, it's a very welcome and complimentary addition to this period in Miles' career.  The previously available Live at the Plugged Nickel box set should be the go-to choice for anyone wanting the definitive live document of this band, but this one is hardly a bad choice, by any measuring stick.

Miles Davis — Live in Europe 1969: The Bootleg Series Volume 2 (1969)

Oh, holy hell yeah!  This is the big one, as this band was never properly recorded in a studio.  As such, it's been called Miles' "lost band", and boy, were they a smokin' little unit, tell you whut!  And this is the motherlode that us Miles fans knew just had to be floating around somewhere in someone's vaults.  There was always this one that came out in 2001 that documented the band on this album with Airto Moreira (making them a sextet) about eight months after the material on this set was recorded.  And that's a fine release, but even Miles went out of his way to mention this specific quintet in his autobiography as one of his all time best bands.  And, as my first taste of actually just the quintet, I have to agree.  Because these merfers actually didn't give any phucs, whatsoever.  Wayne Shorter was playing a lot of soprano, Chick Corea was exclusively playing an electric piano and Dave Holland was still sticking to acoustic bass at this point, so the music takes on a very colorful, energetic tone.  It's got the electric piano and the rest of the band are still on acoustic instruments, but everyone's playing is stretching out and playing these tunes in a manner that, by all reasonable logic, is far beyond the scope of the instruments they are playing.  There's still that great "in transit" aspect to the performance where the band will play a dizzying, funky rendition of 'Miles Runs the Voodoo Down' and then break into 'Milestones' like it's nothing and the two tune are just supposed to be played like that.  It's intense stuff, for sure.  And some of it is so scorching and passionate, it has to be heard to be fully understood.  This one comes with a DVD as well, but I've not been able to bring myself to give it a gander just yet.  Overall though, just. . . yeah.

Jandek — Six and Six (1981)

Diving headfirst into some Jandek.  He's a weird guy, whose entire musical persona came from the perceived anonymity of its creator and who may or may not know how to actually tune a guitar.  Back in the 80's, you could only find his records in select shops and if you didn't have any shops that carried him, you could always send a letter off to a PO box in Houston, Texas and initiate your musical journey that way.  Three decades later and that's all still pretty much the case.  He's got a website now though.  His music is most certainly not for everyone and a lot of these songs sound like they were rehearsed very little (if at all) and the recordings are, most likely, the first (and only) takes of the tunes.  I simply sent a personal check off and, a couple weeks later, received a package with this plain looking address label and decidedly messy penmanship.  This is Jandek's second proper album and not much is changed from his first.  It's still just a discordant guitar and a quiveringly passionate voice belting out words that are either intensely personal or total nonsense.  There's not really a highlight on this album and it sounds like Jandek is playing his detuned guitar without really playing any frets, so it all hangs together as a whole. 

Jandek — Ready for the House (1978)

His first album, originally released under the band name the Units.  This one is known for having the premiere recording of 'European Jewel' on it (which is denoted as "Incomplete" on the song list).  It's the only time on this album he plays an electric guitar — and it would be the last time he would do so until his fourth album.  'European Jewel' itself is actually the most tuneful track he would do among these first two albums.  And the fact that he released this in 1978 is just astounding when you really take a step back and consider the bigger picture.  Easily a decade ahead of his time at this point.  Maybe not always tuneful and fun to listen to, but always interesting.

Jandek — Later On (1981)

His third album.  And first to feature his harmonica playing!  I would say this album is where Jandek's blues-slant first started to make its presence known.  Twisted as they may seem, some of these songs have some serious blues intonations (thinking mainly of 'Just Whisper' here, with its "walkin' down the road" imagery).  And that's the main thing about this album: for the first time, Jandek's words have become actual living worlds unto themselves, whereas in the past it just seemed like he was making them up as he went sometimes.  Everything here has a purpose and is worth considering.  And he just kept improving.

Jandek — Living in a Moon So Blue (1982)

His fifth album.  A strange one, as it features sixteen tracks, none over three and a half minutes in length.  This is in big contrast because it seems like all of his previous albums feature at least one long form track that ventured off into seven or eight minute territory.  Because of this, the better fidelity of the recording and the variety in his guitar playing this time around, it's an album that seems a lot longer than it really is (in a good way).  There's an instrumental ('One Step Ahead'; sounding like the Durutti Column in bizarro world), a song where Jandek is possibly angry at himself ('You Can Stop Now'), possibly an attempt to sound like Bob Dylan ('Anticipation') and one of the weirdest ways to end an album, possibly ever (the chugging stomp of 'Crime Pays').  Again, just all Jandek: his voice, his guitar and his harmonica.  Probably his so far calmest album, at that point.

Jandek — Chair Beside a Window (1982)

This one contains the eerie classic 'Nancy Sings.'  It was Jandek's fourth album overall and easily his best at that point.  Virtually every song here is a winner.  The opener 'Down In A Mirror' was probably Jandek's best set of lyrics up until that point.  There's another attempt at 'European Jewel' here and it's a genuine shock to hear for the first time, because there's a full band backing him.  There's a few other tracks where the band appears (all uncredited musicians, of course) and it's a gloriously wailing clatter they create each time out.  The definitive picture of early Jandek, I would say.  Now I only have about thirty more years worth of albums to acquire and digest.  **long sigh**

~Austin

PS—
Sorry for the delay.

What's New?: 7.27.2012

Behind as hell.  Get goin', then. . . !

Stereolab — Mars Audiac Quintet (1994)

Buzzing, warm and melodic. Yep, Stereolab does it right. I can almost equate them to being like the Cocteau Twins of the 90's, in terms of the sheer consistency and "If it ain't broke, don't fix it"-edness of their output. This is the one right after Transient and right before Emperor, to give you an idea of where it stands in the bigger picture (the answer is that it stands right between two of the early monuments — the latter of which is generally regarded as their best). Basically, the Lab sounds like they're having a hard time running out of ideas here. This album strikes me as more of a unified work in which it sounds best when played front to back. There is a bouncy little pop gem in 'Ping Pong' (which totally apes the Association in the best possible way — thanks Mark Prindle for pointing that out!). Overall, I would describe this album as a beautiful buzz of sound. Hard to not recommend it if you're already a fan.

Stereolab — The Groop Played "Space Age Batchelor Pad Music" (1993)

Typical of these guys to release such a strangely theme-oriented EP right in the midst of their strong early run. The "easy Listening" half is basically a showcase for the lead off tune 'Avant Garde M.O.R.', which is Stereolab doing the warm, mellowed out buzzy thing that they were so good at in those days. The "New Wave" half of the disc begins with 'We're Not Adult Oriented' which is a total winner, in that driving, Neu-inspired Stereolab rocker mode (it appears again in a ferocious live performance to close out the disc). In the end, just a footnote in the grand scheme of the Stereolab catalogue, but its strength just goes to testify how strong they were in these early days.

The Sauceman Brothers — The Early Days of Bluegrass, Volume 7 (1940's/early 1950's)

Part of the Rounder label's great reissue series from the late 1970's.  As this is the "early days" of bluegrass, this is still a bit more country in overall tone, just with more of a focus on banjo solos.  The playing is enviable, while the harmonies are just heavenly.  Check out 'A White Cross Marks the Grave' for an album highlight.  It's just really comforting, warm and welcoming music for me right now.  This particular album was put together with extra care, as there are no shortage of liner notes and band history written in the tiny font inside the gatefold cover (only discrepancy here is that there are no dates listed for each tune included — a minor, but slightly annoying, oversight).  There's a killer version of 'Pretty Polly' here and all of the ballads just rule.  I picked this up after reading about the half the liner note after finding it randomly in the rack at the store and figured it was worth the price tag, just based on the back story.  When I got it home, I could find next to no information on this specific record and only overview information on the band.  I've since arrived at the conclusion that it was a total goldmine find.

The Waterboys — self-titled (1983)

That EP was so good, it was only a matter of time before I rendered it obsolete in my collection.  All five of the excellent, straight from the gut, heart-tugging masterpieces from that EP are here, in varying order —although the standing highlight 'Savage Earth Heart' still appears as the closer, thankfully.  The altered track order ultimately plays in the album's favor and the three songs that were inexplicably left off the American edition are just as good as anything else (exhibits A and B).  Its soul-wrenching honesty is only outdone by Mike Scott's completely ace guitar playing and wailing —indeed, almost cackling, at times— vocal performance.  Boy, is this album good.  Strikes me as a work that could only have been created by someone in the midst of an ambitious and youthful urge to change the world through song.  Just. . . wow.  One of the best records I've caught up to in recent times.

Hank Williams — The Very Best of Hank Williams (1950's)

Lame and stupid as a budget-priced collection like this may be, when the actual music it contains is considered, you really can't do any better.  If I were rich, I'd scoff at this sort of thing, too.  But, when you're record shopping on a budget, this is a godsend.  It's easy to write Hank Williams off.  He's been copied so often and so well, that when you actually get into his music, it may sound a little cliche.  Hardly, as it were, in retrospect.  Because he was literally the first guy to do what he did.  He's basically singing the blues over a honky tonk backing.  Sounds pretty pedestrian at this point, but musically, it's just pure gold.  Stuff like 'Jambalaya' and 'I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry' has become so transcendent and so ingrained into the pop music psyche that it's hard to go back and realize just how good, and how unique, those pieces are as songs.  A sleeper favorite of mine is 'Ramblin' Man.'  Some stuff is classic for a reason.  Sorry it took me this long to catch up.

Tangerine Dream — Encore (1977)

Live cosmic-bound goodness from the Dream's spring 1977 American tour.  Although this is a two record set and each of the four sides of vinyl are just one long piece, with "new" titles, I recognize bits and passages from their studio albums of the time (the closing solo piano bit at the end of 'Monolight', for instance, is straight off of Stratosfear).  It's still just the Franke/Baumann/Froese trio, so it's from the band's artfully excellent 70's prime.  And it certainly is prime material, as just a single listen to the seven minute intro buildup of opener 'Cherokee Lane' should please any fan.  Hard to recommend as a first taste, but for the already converted, absolute gold.

Bobby Hutcherson — Highway One (1978)

Not amazing, but Bobby Hutcherson is so awesome that he was able to retain a classy post-bop sound, on a major label, in the late 1970's.  His are truly standards to aspire to.  Just oozing over with integrity and good taste, this was the first of Bobby's three late 70's albums for Columbia (the next one, Conception: The Gift of Love, is pretty good too).  The opener, and closer, 'Secrets of Love' (by George Cables) is the highlight, appearing in instrumental and vocal versions.  The title track is a cascading piece of Latin-tinged post-bop; the sort of which was Bobby's bread and butter in these years.  The tone is thoughtful and mid-tempo, retaining that vibe (no pun intended) of pure class and elegance at time when that was a downright hard thing to do in mainstream jazz.  Nothing amazing happens, but it doesn't need to.  Hardcore fans (read: myself) will find enough here to confirm why they loved him in the first place.

Miles Davis/Marcus Miller — Music from Siesta (1987)

With a dedication to Gil Evans on the cover and a Spanish word in the title, it's a no-brainer that Miles was trying to recall his classic Sketches of Spain album here.  If you can remove from your mind that Miles was just fooling himself into believing he could pull it off without Gil and just accept Marcus Miller's infatuation with backing Miles with programmed synthesizers and drum machines, it's a pretty decent 80's Miles album.  It's certainly a forgotten one, that's for sure.  'Los Feliz' is a representative moment from the score.  I've had to come to terms with 80's Miles over the past year or so, but once I let go of my hang-ups, I've found some rather decent stuff.  This album plays nicely on its own and it's definitely in the line of the great film music Miles had done previously (obviously, with more updated production sounds).  I dig it.

The Incredible String Band — The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter (1968)

Really and truly a wacky record.  Really just an impenetrable mess upon my first few listens.  Really the only thing that jumped out at me right away was the closer 'Nightfall.'  And I think that's because it's pretty much the only song on the album where the band plays a linear song.  This is magnified in the thirteen minute album centerpiece 'A Very Cellular Song.'  Easy to sit through the whole thing, just because it's actually several songs contained within one track index.  If you consider all of the change-ups and twists in the songs, what appears to be a ten song album is actually fifteen or sixteen tracks in total.  Musically, it covers just as much ground; venturing from traditional folk, to Irish textures, through America and right on through to plain old acoustic psychedelia.  A hard nut to crack, but not without its rewards.  


~Austin

What's New?: 7.17.2011

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?: 6.16.2011

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

Miles

I've been asked recently by several close friends, 'Why the shift away from jazz listening lately?'

Well, because, it's just that jazz is such a passionate and engaging listening experience that any listening turns into a very emotionally intense experience these days. And I'm not quite sure why that is. Maybe the reason I'm listening to so much new wave and jangle bands recently is because that music is equally as emotional, but the presentation is much more aloof and removed.

I did venture back into Miles Davis territory a few days ago. Just for reference, here is my Miles collection:


Just because I have a personal preference for the performances, I got out discs six and seven of Columbia's Seven Steps to Heaven box set, as those discs are actually just the albums Miles in Tokyo and Miles In Berlin. The Tokyo concert is of interest because it is tenor saxophonist Sam Rivers' only recording in Miles' band and the Berlin concert is especially of interest because it is Wayne Shorter's first appearance in Miles' band.

There is something special about Miles' playing on these 1964 live albums. Indeed, the two live albums (My Funny Valentine and Four and More) from earlier in that same year (with George Coleman on tenor) find Miles in exceptional form as well. On the two albums recorded later in the year on foreign soil, Miles sounds at his romantic best; a swirl of passion and empathy during an unpredictable time in the world. The tension is particularly notable as Miles was notoriously unsure of his working band during 1964. It was a rare time of constant transition and change that found Miles mostly on cruise control creatively. It was, for him, rare to go that long without any huge creative revelations.

And yet, there he was.

Perhaps that's what makes those performances so yearning, so venerable, so intensely passionate: that want to make a large scale revelation, but feeling unable to do so and unable to change that.

On these occasions, it just sounded like another night for Miles.

Which is to say, they are some of his best performances ever documented.

~Austin