Oscar and Alice

That's Oscar on the left. We adopted him as a rescue adoption from the SPCA in Yuba City last October. He's a pure bred Cairn Terrier (yes, like Toto). They couldn't say for sure, but were pretty convinced that he was from a puppy farm of some awful sort.MOIRA ACQUIRED HIM SOMEHOW IDK.  So, he has warmed up to us over the past year, but he is still very apprehensive about just about anything (except going to the dog park!) and, as is the case with his breed, he loves to just bolt and explore the streets without a leash. He's secretly a big baby and loves to be rubbed on top of his nose.

Alice, on the right, is brand new to the family. She was also a rescue adoption from the High Sierra Animal Rescue up in Portola and was on the list to be put to sleep in the coming weeks. She has Terrier in her in some way, but we are not sure of her exact breed. She seems to have been fed very little, as she is just skin and bones right now. And she was just spayed on the 11th, so she she is especially wary. But she is pure love, as the first thing she did upon meeting me yesterday was lick my hands uncontrollably. A big sweetie.

Look at those two. What an odd couple. An incredibly irresistible odd couple.

~Austin

Moonrise from the porch of the new digs.

We I WAS FORCED TO MOVE HOUSE YET AGAIN this past weekend and, while unpacking and whatnot, a full moon rose up out of the haze and I snapped this quick shot from the front porch of our new place.

The new place is sweet in really practical ways UNHEALTHY AND ENABLING: basement, washer and dryer, garage of our own, not an apartment, bigger, etc.

Recently acquired the Sundazed label's great expanded reissues of Chad and Jeremy's The Ark and The Cyrkle's Neon. Good breezy moving music for fall.

Haven't gotten the records or stereo set up yet; this week sometime I imagine. It's always a slow process reassembling AND SOMETIMES IT NEVER ACTUALLY HAPPENS ANYWAY.

~Austin

Sunrise over the backyard fence.

Went to let the dog out this morning and I got this spiffy little view of the sunrise colors meshing with the fall leaves. I caught cold over the weekend and I'm feeling it today. Nothing too serious; I just can't handle that awful sore throat/irritated sinus combo.

I am going to start compiling a list of my favorite albums of the past decade, so it may be a while until my next music post.

Stay tuned.

~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

Old Music: Wire Train's ...in a chamber (1983)

You know, when most folks think of 'new wave', they think of something like this, this, this, this or maybe if you're really astute, this. And while all of those are mostly fine selections, new wave, for me, always signified a much more naive, emotional, darker and moody reassessment of guitar rock. I remember hearing a friend once say that the reason most new wave bands played so fast was because the attention of the onlooking crowd made them nervous and they wanted to play their songs as quickly as possible and get off the stage. That sums it up perfectly in my mind.

Enter Wire Train.

A group of four unassuming, not very charismatic guys who came together and formed a band. They were, for a little while anyway, the zeitgeist of what a new wave band was in my mind. Guys that maybe liked a few punk bands, but who also had a love for classic guitar pop and got a chance to present their music because of the DIY punk ideology of the day.

The band was given its initial chance by the seminal American independent label, 415 Records. But by the time Wire Train was ready to release their first album, their label mates Romeo Void had a hit which interested Columbia Records so much, the major bought up the indie's entire catalogue.

So, before they even had a chance to get some minor league practice, the band's first album was distributed nationally and scored some minor hits that remained college radio favorites. Three quarters of the original lineup had one more hit with their next album (original drummer Federico Gil-Sola left after the world tour for ...in a chamber and was replaced by Brian MacLeod) and broke up. Frontman Kevin Hunter kept the band name intact and soldiered on through the 80's with less successful results.

(check out this great fan site for the entire story).

But what about that dreamy, perfectly executed and wonderfully nervous first album?
Well, it's a misleading album, that's for sure. On the surface, it just appears to be a stock guitar rock record from 1983. Fast tempos, throbbing stuttery bass lines and a singer who sounds like he's afraid of the mic. Listen again, though, and the songs will reveal themselves to be a surprisingly united set of tightly constructed and layered pop songs that are catchy, sometimes despite a melancholy tone and minor chord changes, sometimes because of it.

A two note bass stomp right out of Gang of Four's first album starts things off on 'I'll Do You' and when you hear the first hint of delay-laden electric guitar, you might think of the Cure. Except this is about two or three years before Robert Smith discovered his favorite guitar sound. The song is a wonderful introduction to the breezy, sunny sound offered up on this album.

From there, things go into a darker rock mode, with the noisy, cymbal heavy intro vamp of 'Everything's Turning Up Down Again.' Seriously good stuff and it's one instance of Kevin Hunter actually trying to sound like a balls out rock and roll singer. Of course, atop a somewhat wimpy jangle, it sounds hilarious, but the surprisingly affecting lyrics make it quite genuine.

Two wonderfully moody and even more Cure-ish tunes ('Never' and 'Like') and a heartfelt love song ('I Forget it All (When I See You)') and a flip of the vinyl later, you'll be greeted by the album's title track, epic centerpiece and flat out, one of the best 'lost' classics of the new wave era, 'Chamber of Hellos.'

An intricate, maze-like arpeggio and enough evolutions and layers to match build up an atmosphere of suspense and tension and it's one case where the whole thing has to break in order for their to be any resolution. When the perfectly anthemic chorus hits, it's a magical moment. A brief, sudden release that is about as effective as a chorus can be. The truly exceptional moment of the song is the nearly dub reggae breakdown of the chorus at almost three minutes into the tune, which builds and builds back up to the hook's full grandiose exposure. Exquisite.

Although I love when an album's highlight is smack dab in the middle of everything, I especially like the way 'Chamber of Hellos' foreshadows the dark, blurry, paranoia-filled climate of the remainder of side two. 'Slow Down', it seems, is another lesson in how to make a redemptive chorus, as the verses are all nervous build-up and the hook is appropriately soothing. 'She's on Fire' is a ringing rocker that finds Kevin Hunter in a particularly crass mood, while 'I Gotta Go' is nearly a goth tune with an almost heavy metal distortion riff and tribal thud of a drum intro. All the tension of side two is released with the deceivingly sunny, perfectly jangly 'Love Against Me.' And like that, the album's ten tracks are over in thirty five short, but well used minutes.

The above cover photo is from the original vinyl on 415/Columbia. Here's the back cover:


And the labels:



As mentioned above, the band was able to make one more album in this vein. Between Two Worlds was perhaps a bit more produced in the bigger picture — especially when you consider that ...in a chamber was tracked, mixed and mastered in just about two weeks for around $20,000— but it certainly is not a bad album. While the rest of the 80's was fairly unkind to the band's direction, they had one opportunity to make a perfect first impression album and they came pretty damn close with ...in a chamber.

I initially checked out the band because they were on 415 Records and I've followed that label for years. At first, I thought ...in a chamber was pretty mediocre. In fact, it went into my 'for trade' pile and it was on a whim that I chose to reevaluate it one last time before it was traded. Although it didn't make an immediate impression, it was better with each subsequent listen. I've played it every few days for the last year and a half and it now sounds like a stone cold classic of its era.

As a huge Cure fan, I won't even pretend that this album isn't the next best thing after the Cure's early stuff. It captures so well that dreamy, minimal, but perfectly executed bleakness of those wonderful early 80's new wave days. It also nails that existential, removed feeling of those early Cure albums. As a kid who cuts his new wave teeth on that stuff, it has sort of been in the back of my mind that, through my constant research and seeking out of records from that time period, I was wanting something that replicated the absolutely wonderful moodiness of those particular Cure albums.

And, to say that ...in a chamber does that feels a little silly at this point. Because it isn't a replication; it's a genuine interpretation of that mood.

Seal of approval long overdue:
~Austin