What's New?: 8.6.2015

Another grab bag!

kandodo — k2o (2013) Spotify

kandodo is the one-man drone project of one Simon Price.  Though far more psychedelic and lo-fi than most drone outfits, Price's idea of drone seems a bit more theatrical than your standard fare and his subtitling of 'swim into the sun' "a film for the ear" makes total sense.  'kandy rock mountain' overcomes an unnecessary blaring intro to be the album's rightful centerpiece.  This vinyl pressing came with a limited run bonus 7" of two extra songs that only enhance the experience.  And I do mean, "experience" man.  Because, yeah, heady stuff.  Key tracks: 'kandy rock mountain' and 'grace and'

Jessamine — self-titled (1995) YouTube  Spotify

Hard to see in the above scan, but it's there.   Decidedly gnarly noise rock with softy guy/girl vocals.  It really goes for the pretty/noisy dynamic, but's way too lo-fi to be shoegazey.  You just know that the songs are going to explode into shambling distortion and feedback at some point.  Totally "90's bro" in that respect.  Also, a bit predictable (but haha at me, as the album's highlight is a nine minute near drone that eschews all that called 'One Trick Pony' — you got me, guys).  Fancy original clear vinyl pressing on the great kranky label, it unfortunately excludes some tracks that were on the CD due to length issues.  Key tracks: 'One Trick Pony' and the closer 'Lisboa' which sounds like a lo-fi Stereolab, if you can believe that.

Fontanelle — self-titled (2000) Spotify

Would you believe that some of the same noisenicks from Jessamine would go on to form the polished jazz fusion group Fontanelle?  Funky drumming and mostly keyboards riffing on themes.  All the tunes here —hell, all of Fontanelle's tunes not on Vitamin F— are basically vamps.  This one has guitars on it, too.  So, it sticks out a little because of that.  Otherwise, these early Fontanelle albums are basically interchangeable.  The liberal use of wah wah on the closer 'Counterweight' proves they were Miles disciples from the get go.  Key tracks: the funky funky 'Reflex vs. Parallax' and the floaty '29th and Going'

Fontanelle — Style Drift (2002) Spotify

Probably the band's most polished effort as the guitars are all gone and it's all keyboards and drums.  There's still a much looser feel to the band than where they would go in a decade's time.  And while the ten minute title track does it's darndest to be the album's big centerpiece, it's actually the shorter pieces like the eerie 'James Going' and 'Red Light, Green Light' that steal the show, just based on tunefulness.  Key tracks: 'Just Go Crazy', 'James Going' and 'Red Light, Green Light'

Fontanelle — F (2001)

Not to be confused with their later opus, Vitamin F (2012), this 2001 album again has no horns.  Lots of squelchy, bleepy, bloopy electronic keyboardy sounds though.  Still some guitars in the mix, as well, and getting kind mathy on 'Floor Tile.'  Opener 'Fulcrum' is a fun, multi-movement thingy, while 'Charm and Strange' ventures back into wah wah land.  Key tracks: 'Fulcrum' and the genuinely resonating 'Slow January'

Various artists — Hotflush Presents. . . Space and Time (mid-2000's) Spotify

Hotflush in the pre-Mount Kimbie days was as hot a dubstep label as they got in London.  WUBWUBWUBWUB and how do you do from Jazzsteppa, right off the bat?  Boxcutter's 'Philly' is more of a funky house take on the style and it totally owns.  I think I dig the more boundary pushing stuff like Scuba's totally 80's-sounding 'Inmost' and Boxcutter's reflective, Burial-ish 'Infraviolet' more than your average 'choon, but conventional stuff like Slaughter Mob's 'No Big Deal' still goes down just as smooth.  Love the introspective tone that about half of the tunes here take on.  Great stuff.  Key tracks: Vaccine's dreamy 'Wishful Thinking VIP', 'Inmost', 'Infraviolet' and 'Philly'

Pink Floyd — The Wall (1979) YouTube  Spotify

Blasphemer that I am, I can't give this one a fiver.  It's too up its own butt, but you knew that already.  As an autobiographic piece of work about Roger Waters' youth, it can be quite affecting.  Instead of going for sidelong epics the way they did the previous two albums, this album is a more song-oriented affair, but this becomes a problem on disc two, with too many forgettable tunes being placed behind the narrative.  It's only on familiar ground like the deep, spacey 'Comfortably Numb' that things get realigned and substance matches execution.  Is it good?  Yeah, but not without its obvious flaws.  Not sure what else to say about this that hasn't already been said.  David Gilmour's delayed out guitar is fun when he utilizes the effect, recalling John Martyn's spaced out explorations.  Key tracks: 'Another Brick in the Wall' trilogy, 'Comfortably Numb/The Show Must Go On' and 'Hey You'

Peter Gabriel — So (1986) YouTube

'Sledgehammer'!  'In Your Eyes'!  'Big Time'!   Holy hell, this album is loaded with hits.  Big hits, at that.  It's got that nostalgic (for me) production value that I remember from my childhood radio listening: big, gated drums, layers of synth and gratuitous bass sounds — totally 80's, man.  And hey, lookah there, Kate's on it!  I love the melodrama, the cheesiness.  But, is it really cheesy?  I mean, it's dated, but there is a sense of Peter delivering most of it with a sly wink, as if he knows some of it is a bit over the top.  And side two of the album dives right back into the artsiness of Peter's earlier works, so he knew exactly what he was doing.  And when 'In Your Eyes' closes out the entire thing, it feels entirely sincere.  Probably my favorite Peter Gabriel album.  Key tracks: any of the singles

~Austin

What's New?: 1.21.2013

Been slackin' lately. . .

Siouxsie and the Banshees — The Scream (1978)

Siouxsie and the gang's obviously most punk-sounding album.  This is technically a reacquisition, but, focusing on their decidedly more new wave-y 80's records in the interim, I had forgotten just how raw and punk this one actually is.  The building, rollicking, eff-bomb dropping demolishing of 'Helter Skelter' makes good and goddamn sure you know these blokes are all for knocking the system of musical conformity down.  Standard punk numbers 'Nicotine Stain' and 'Jigsaw Feeling' are just abrasive enough to get by.  Still, there's those few numbers on the album that are a bit more spacious and hint at things to come.  Songs like 'Overground' and the towering closer 'Switch' are excellent and, even though they would have been highlights on any other Banshees album, they really stick out here because, not only are they fantastic numbers, they look past the scope of not only this album, but the whole punk scene at the time.  One of the most diverse and curious debut albums to come out of the entire punk and new wave thing.  Only wish the equally as great non-album single 'Hong Kong Garden' had been included as a bonus track.

Pink Floyd — Obscured by Clouds (1972)

Another reacquisition.  The second of Pink Floyd's soundtracks for otherwise totally obscure films.  The instrumentals on this album kick so much ass, I don't even know where to begin.  Seriously, have a listen to the album kickoff title track and try to tell me that that isn't badassery of the highest order.  Elsewhere, as the album right before Dark Side of the Moon, 'Burning Bridges' fills the space as the perfect pre-cursor (song's great too, by the way).  As an album, it kind of peters out after the great 'Mudmen' but that first two-thirds or so is just wonderful stuff.  Floaty and pretty and thoughtful and cerebral; there's a reason I've always gravitated towards this early 70's Floyd material.  It just asserts its influence more and more as the years pass, and subsequently manages to stay relevant and seemingly ageless all the while.  S'good.

Björk — Biophilia (2011)

It's a pretty sad day when Björk releases an album, I forget that she did so and then proceed a year more with my life before finally realizing what I've done to myself.  And further, when I actually do get that album, it's not even good (or bad) enough to really get any strong reactions out of me.  I think it's safe to say that the last Björk album I felt like I really understood and completely loved, despite not liking some of it, was Medúlla.  It was just exactly what I wanted from Björk: a beautiful challenge.  Volta was okay, but I never have loved it, which was a first for me and Björk albums.  And now, Biophilia just seems like Björk creating an album around a concept without having the tunes to back it up.  Instead, musical ideas from her last ten or fifteen years are just rehashed in lieu of anything new to make way for a broad, impenetrable concept about the beginning of time and the way everything is related to everything else (or something).  I'm no prude when it comes to big ideas in music, but if the concept is more important than the tunes, I'm out.  Tuneless essay/rants like 'Hollow' don't help when in the company of post-Homogenic duds like 'Sacrifice' or 'Crystalline' (that one comes complete with a totally not predictable drum'n'bass switch-up in the third act **rolls eyes**).  The seeming Medúlla outtake 'Virus' is passable, but a tad disappointing.  All that said, the very first and the very last songs on the proper album are absolutely gorgeous and sparse numbers (featuring Björk's by now saving grace, Zeena Parkins on harp).  Overall, I feel like I've heard this album done before, and better.  I guess when you've set the bar as high as Björk has, you're bound to hit a few dips.  Just never thought I'd get to a point where Björk's music wasn't exciting and/or emotive. 

Lorelei — Everyone Must Touch the Stove (1995)

Woefully moody and wonderfully artsy and noisy early post-rock from Virginia.  Have a listen to the restrained opener 'Today's Shrug' and its explosive follow up 'Quiet Staid Debt' to get an idea of what's going on here.  Sounds like bedroom rock obsessed with stargazing.  Not a whole lot to say about this one.  Just great tunes, great scope, great atmosphere and wonderfully weird indulgences every so often.  The whole thing's got a shifting nature where songs will end up sounding completely different from what they began as, so it makes the album a very complete work and a rewarding full listen every time.  Pretty fun when you can catch up to an album seventeen years later and it still sounds fresh.  Fantastic.  It's on Spotify in full; check it out.  

Caravan — In the Land of Grey and Pink (1971)

Fun Canterbury scene stuff.  I know, because their roots lie in the Wilde Flowers and they have very close ties to Soft Machine, that they are known as a primarily a prog band, but most of the songs on this album are much closer to a sort of poppy folk rock sound than they are prog.  The lead track 'Golf Girl' sounds a bit silly, in all honesty.  Catchy tune, sure.  But c'mon, boys!  'Winter Wine', on the other hand, is pretty convincing.  I have no idea what the tune is about, but darned if it doesn't create a wonderful little micro-world that exists for the song's duration.  There's an accent on dreamy keyboard chords here that I can't help but say reminds me very much of Yes.  The obligatory sidelong jam 'Nine Feet Underground' seems to only exist to satisfy the fact that the band could fill up the entire side of a record with one song.  This expanded edition nearly doubles the album's running time and features the superb outtake 'I Don't Know its Name (Alias The Word)' among its other ephemera.  As my first taste of Caravan properly, I'm intrigued.  As this was an impulse purchase, it reminded how few times I've actually seen their albums on shelves.

999 — self-titled (1977)

Time for a pint of lager!  As a long time Cure fan —and especially of the band's unique first album— the leadoff track on this was quite a shock at first.  What follows is a lot more typically "punk" sounding, but there's a sense to Nick Cash's lyrics that he's a bit more of an introspective fellow than his peers, so something like 'Emergency' steps beyond its seemingly limited reach with relative ease to become an anthemic, glorious song of triumph.  'Titanic (My Over) Reaction' is the same, in a similar vein, and equally as outstanding.  This expanded edition gathers up the band's pre-album singles (all of which are very much punk songs — awesome) and generally does a good job of stating the case for 999's first album being one of the greats of British punk.

Dick Gaughan — Gaughan (1978)

This is actually the album Gaughan in compilation form.  It contains the entirety of the album Gaughan, but is supplemented with a few tracks a piece from the Bonnie Pit Laddie (released by the High Level Ranters) and Coppers and Brass (Dick's album of solo guitar instrumentals from 1977).  The album doesn't quite have the intensity that made Handful of Earth such a masterpiece, but it is a bit more of a warmer, intimate affair.  Still lots of that wonderful DADGAD tuning and even an electric instrument or two.  Have a listen to the first track to get an idea.  There's a handful of acapella songs that are very intense, but as a whole, it's a very nice album that, in this iteration, serves as a great companion piece to Handful of Earth.  It's also on Spotify and I definitely recommend it. 

T. Rex — Futuristic Dragon (1976)

Great two disc edition of this sort of forgotten Marc Bolan album.  It's a strangely enticing mix of sounds that ultimately ends up sounding like the proper fusion of glam and soul; the type at which David Bowie failed.  'All Alone' is just about as good as it gets for us T. Rex nerds, while 'Life's an Elevator' has got to be in the running for one of his best ever songs.  The album is a weird concept thing that I don't get, but the tunes are too funky and addictive to really get caught up in all the faux mysticism.  This two disc edition features the entire album in alternate recordings and while that's not necessarily interesting, the extra "solo recordings" versions of the songs at the end of the second disc are definitely worth the ride.  Not an album I knew going in, but as a big Marc Bolan fan for years previous, it's definitely one I will be listening to and taking in for a while.

~Austin

What's New?: 1.1.2013

Been hoarding the "What's New?" lately.  Let's get into it. . .

The Police — Zenyatta Mondatta (1980)

Had a go of it over the years with the Police.  I think I have an initial kneejerk reaction against things where if I'm told I should just simply like them because of what they are.  Took me years to come around to u2 and the Beatles because of this same scenario.  Maybe, in this case, Sting's later career has played a factor in things as well.  Who knows?  Found these few in the dollar bin on a whim, so hey, why not?  By all accounts, the Police should be one of the bands I worship.  I gave it a shot, years ago.  Honest, I did.  But nothing ever seemed to be that great (or even that good) about them.  But, even though I knew the hits, it never would have occurred to me without actually sitting down with this album and hearing it for myself: Andy Summers' guitar sound on this album is absolute perfection.  That's no more clear to me than on 'When the World is Running You Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around.'  Hit those three chords and let them ring forever, Andy.  The sparseness of the song is immediately noticeable.  A lot of that has to do with that guitar part (and that the "guitar solo" is actually a bass solo).  So airy, so floating.  Just wonderful.  I knew 'Voices in my Head' was a sample favorite, but I didn't realize that the initial song was as arty and weird as it actually is.  The faux-reggae that the band got by on is still around, but you can tell they were growing tired with the schtick on the hit 'De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da' (still, Andy's guitar tone steals the show again).  Overall, yeah: good new wave.  Just fantastic guitar throughout—who cares what any of the songs are actually about?  (but seriously, Sting is actually pretty sharp with his words on this album, making it sound like there was a "punk rock" band that actually gave a shit)

The Police — Ghost in the Machine (1983)

It's a pretty big compliment right up front that I give this album the same score that I did Zenyatta, for a few reasons: 1) Andy's guitar is nowhere near as prominent 2) It's intentionally "weird" and "challenging" (please note the quotes) and 3) I hate 'Every Little Thing She Does is Magic' with an undying passion.  The verse on 'Invisible Sun' is actually so gorgeous, I'm having trouble coming up with words to properly describe it.  Side two of the album is where things really get going.  'Rehumanize Yourself' finds the return of Andy's wonderful guitar sound and is just heady great new wave, while 'Omega Man' is the greatest punk song ever written by a band that was trying to be anything but punk.  Jeezohman, it's good.  But I don't know.  I'm a self-proclaimed fan of "mess" albums.  And this just seems like one of the better candidates for that category, doesn't it?  Wonderfully bad, keyboard-favoring early 80's production by Hugh Padgham and the cycle is complete: I have a new source of romanticization. 

The Police — Synchronicity (1984)

Fancy little new wave album!  It's actually pressed on very dark purple vinyl (as were all retail, non-record club copies of this album) that is only really legible when you hold it up to very bright light.  Fun!  It's got three big hits on it and, I don't know, maybe enough time has passed between my youth and those songs (coupled with the fact that the Police have not really achieved retroactive credibility). . . but, I. . . .  *long sigh*. . . like 'Every Breath You Take.'  Like, I want to learn to play and sing it.  I don't care if soccer moms know it.  It's a fantastic song.  'King of Pain' boasts one of the greatest vocal melodies of all time (one that Ben Gibbard has stolen a lot from over the years).  But, besides that, it's got to be one of the best songs of the 80's.  Sure, its earnest melancholy tone must have been lost through so many plays over the years, but imagine hearing it for the first time again.  It took me rewinding to age 10 and conjuring up that memory to really appreciate this song.  While, there's no chance any ten year old would ever truly understand the song, it's a weird (and wonderful) thing to recall the burgeoning world with that song in my head.  The album closer 'Tea in the Sahara' is one last jolt of floating faux reggae wonderfulness, Andy's guitar making one more final hurrah.  'Mother' sucks.  Bad.  Full of all kinds of stuff, this is definitely one of the best new wave albums of all time.

XTC — Love On A Farmboy's Wages (1983)

XTC b-sides!  Alright!  First things first: the a-side is one of my all time favorite XTC tunes.  It's one of the rare moments of XTC that captures their Britishness from a rural standpoint.  Heartfelt and political, it's a winner through and through.  Flip it over and three live tunes on this one.  'Burning With Optimism's Flame' mines a similarly faux reggae sound that the Police were famous for, while 'English Roundabout' is as tense and manic as new wave could get (and which XTC had no problem accomplishing), while 'Cut it Out' is played in tandem with its predecessor, almost like a dub version.  Pure fun, and great to hear XTC live at this point, as it was to be one of the last times the band actually played live.

XTC — Great Fire (1983)

Another winner for the a-side here.  If it's been a secret around here previously that Mummer is one of my all time favorite albums —and easily my favorite XTC album— then let me settle that here and now: that shit's about as badass as it gets.  This single has great b-sides.  The first of which is the poppy jump of a song 'Gold' which just goes to exhibit that the band was still as fun as ever in these days.  The other two tunes are Andy Partridge's instrumental ambient/synth side project moonlighting as XTC b-sides.  'Frost Circus' and especially 'Procession Towards Learning Land' are arty and beautiful and chancey and brilliant and ultimately they exhibit why this is my favorite period for XTC: the band did not give a single fuck for anything or what anyone thought.  Amongst the most punk rock-minded moments of the 80's.  Mummer is amazing.  Deal with it.

Pink Floyd — Atom Heart Mother (1970)

Enh, it's not bad.  The side one dominating suite is pretty damned uneventful and just downright wasteful.  Side two is such an improvement.  Just. . . wow.  Why didn't the whole album make use of its time like this?  I guess it should be obvious by now that I prefer the more folky, introspective-tinged Floyd material.  So, stuff like 'If' and 'Fat Old Sun' is more or less awesome.  The second suite on the album, 'Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast' is also nice, if not a bit too much for its own good.  At least it's listenable (unlike the album's first half).

Dick Gaughan — Handful of Earth (1980)

Celtic folk masterpiece from one of the style's sorely forgotten talents.  A friend recently played 'Craigie Hill' for me and when I inquired about Dick, he described Handful of Earth as "a British Isles classic."  Didn't take much more than that for me to become instantly interested.  And the whole album is just about as great as that four word description implies.  Seems every song here is in DADGAD, or a tuning pretty close to it, and is subsequently gorgeously played, in those deep tones.  The blues be damned: Nordic folk music has its own rules.  It is an unabashedly sparse album, with no more than three musicians credited (at most) on any given tune and no percussion of any sort employed.  In that sparseness is where it finds the intimate quality that connects with you.  I didn't think so much of it after one full play through.  But something just got me to play it again.  And then again.  And now, here I am, a week later and I'm pretty much only wanting to listen to this album.  'Both Sides the Tweed' is the one tune on the album that makes use of non-traditional instruments and it's a magically haunting moment.  Folk Roots called it "album of the decade" for the 80's.  And why the hell not?  Clearly a masterpiece for the ages.  You have no excuse for not having heard it at least once: it's on Spotify in full.  Relish in the glorious sounds.  Some of the most "soulful" singing and guitar playing I've heard in quite some time.  This is the really nice (and highly recommended) 180gram reissue on the Dutch 6 Spices label.  Really just fantastic work all around.

Lots more on the way, shortly. 

~Austin

What's New?: 11.12.2012

Getting close to catching up. . .

The Kinks — Arthur (1969)

This is the limited run that came out on the Sanctuary label last record store day that not only was pressed on super heavy white vinyl, but is two discs — the first of which is the mono mix of the album and the second is the stereo.  Obviously, the proper album Arthur (or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire) is an irrefutable and enduring classic.  But this mono/stereo gatefold package is absolutely gorgeous and the big draw for me was the mono mix.  Noticeably different than my original US stereo pressing and just downright warmer, if you ask me.  If you don't know this album, here's the first song and the last song from the album.  Many more good ones, and even a few better ones, to be found in between.  Good stuff.

Pink Floyd — Ummagumma (1970)

The Floyd gettin' all sorts of wacky in the early days.  This is a two record set, in which disc one is live past favorites and disc two is all new studio material.  The live stuff is long and jammy, the studio stuff is long and calm, all of it is very psychedelic and trippy.  The live arrangements that the band had worked out really emphasized the quiet and meditative versus loud and chaotic dynamics in the songs.  Have a listen to 'Careful With That Axe, Eugene' to get an idea of how they did it.  The studio half of the album is mostly filled with curiosities, with each band member getting a half side feature.  Not necessarily that great overall, as most of the material is more along the lines of a soundtrack (but without any direction) than actual fleshed out songs.  Roger Water's excellent acoustic number 'Grantchester Meadows' is definitely the highlight of the entire album.  Worthy stuff; and a fine overview of the band's early years.

Van der Graaf Generator — Pawn Hearts (1971)

This album has Robert Fripp all over it, so it's gained a bit of a reputation over the years as somewhat of a hidden proggy gem, if I'm to understand things correctly.  It's a bit faster, more dissonant and not quite as subdued overall than the album that came right before it.  It's just three long songs (one of which takes up all of side two).  There's lots of shifting, weird turns in the songs, so you can never really get too comfortable when it's playing.  The closest to conventional things get is on the otherwise spacey piano ballad 'Man-Erg', but even that has a moment of aggressive sax/Hammond B-3 riffing and Peter Hammill's shrieking vocals.  Check out the big, twenty-three minute epic 'A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers' and expand your head, square.  There are too many passages in that song that are just downright amazing to start listing here.  But it's worth the ride.  Really "big idea" music.  Cool.

Leo Kottke — Chewing Pine (1975)

Leo gettin' in a good groove and milking it for all it's worth.  I've been going through these early and mid-70's Leo albums pretty easily all year long and this one's no different.  It goes down smooth and easy, but gets better with every listen, as you start to notice the care in the playing and small nuances of songcraft.  'Standing on the Outside' continues Leo's tradition of indisputably strong side one/track ones.  Couple more vocal numbers (one a Procol Harum tune, the other Marty Robbins) and the rest of the album is just Leo doing what Leo does.  Some of the numbers pick up where Dreams and all that Stuff left off (like 'Venezuela, there You Go' and 'Monkey Money'), but the rest of the instrumental numbers point straight back to Mudlark and Greenhouse territory.  Lots of slidin', quick pickin' and very tuneful riffs.  I especially like the two ballads ('Rebecca' and 'Trombone') towards the end of the album.  Certainly not the best of Leo's work from this period, but some moments here are just as strong as the best.

Fairport Convention — Babbacombe Lee (1971)

Fairport loses Sandy Denny and Richard Thompson and decides to go all high concept.  It's about a boy, named John "Babbacombe" Lee, who goes off to serve and live with an old lady and leaves as soon as he can to be in the navy.  He's successful and happy until he falls ill and is forced to return working for the elderly woman, loses his mind and brutally kills her.  Not sure why the band chose this guy's story to tell, but the package that this comes in is pretty elaborate: a gatefold cover, a 10"x10" eight page booklet and full lyrics printed on the inner sleeve.  Good fun — and hey, the music's not bad either!  It's definitely more in the "rock" end of folk-rock here, as the guitars are the loudest and most amped up I've yet heard on a Fairport album.  Still, even though there's little here that reminds of the Fairport I previously knew, check out the rather nice harmonies and catchy riffs on 'John Lee' or the gentle acoustic strum and brilliant vocal melody (and presumed Sandy Denny leftover) 'Breakfast in Mayfair' or even the genuinely eerie 'Dream Song.'  Not a total winner, but a nice one to pick up if you like the early albums and aren't opposed to a little more rockin' out than usual.

Tom Rush — The Circle Game (1968)

Tom gets the big orchestrated treatment on a lot of other people's songs (three of which are Joni Mitchell's) and pretty amazing results ensue.  Paul Harris' arrangements kick absolute butt throughout.  Look no further than the absolutely bleak and beautiful charts on the album opening 'Tin Angel' for proof.  There's a couple James Taylor songs here, but, amongst the covers, the Joni songs are the best.  The final two tracks are both originals by Tom and they steal the show, easily.  'Rockport Sunday' is a rare solo acoustic instrumental that is just stunning in its scope and its virtuosity, while 'No Regrets' has become a Tom Rush standard in its own right for a very good reason.  Have heard about this album for years, but I'd consider it a minor classic now that I've actually heard it; if for nothing else than side two.

The Turtles — Turtle Soup (1969)

Produced by none other than Ray Davies himself!  Knowing that, and considering this was their preceding album, I was perhaps expecting too much.  This is certainly not a total wash, but it's just generally a nice pop/rock album.  Nothing embarrassing happens, but there's not a surprise to be found either, so take it for what it is.  The 12-string jangle of 'She Always Leaves Me Laughing' is good 60's pop, while 'Somewhere Friday Night' is the sort of dreamy jangle, mildly folky thing that the Turtles seemed to promise all along (and yeah, it's probably the best thing here).  As a last album by a should be legendary band, it's a bit low key and, some might argue, "safe."  I would call it a dignified and appropriate addendum to Battle of the Bands (which, let's be honest, would have been the best way ever to end a career).

Tom Rush — Take a Little Walk With Me (1966)

The first half of this album is all renditions of old rock and roll favorites.  Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, it's all here.  Al Kooper produces and, as far as the first half of the album is concerned, it appropriately takes on a very similar tone to Bob Dylan's work of the time.  Listenable, sure but nothing that special.  Side two and Tom goes back to straight acoustic numbers and it's just glorious.  Tom's version of 'Turn Your Money Green' is a clinic for someone wanting to take someone else's composition and making it their own.  'Galveston Flood' closes out the album and Tom is just showing off at this point, with his slide playing and soaring overdubbed harmonies.  It's a perfect example of an album that starts off maybe a bit slow and just gets better and better as it plays.

Jon Hassell — Fourth World, Vol. 2: Dream Theory in Malaya (1981)

I buy any Jon Hassell I see, especially in the used bins.  This one snuck up on me, in that regard.  Guitar weirdo and all around thinkin' outside the box guy Michael Brook is pretty much co-billed here, as the album is basically Jon soloing over Michael's sound concoctions.  And the musical backdrops over which Jon solos are very manic and repetitive for the most part.  I'm not exactly sure why this was billed as part two of the series, because where the original was dreamy and cascading in sound, this one is amped up, aggro and quite challenging.  Michael Brook's digital treatments and MIDI-synth arrangements are not exactly as smooth as I have come to expect Jon Hassell's backing band to be.  Have a listen to the opening number to get a glimpse of what I mean.  The title track is ten minutes of what I expected and easily the album's highlight.  Brian Eno is about, playing drums and his influence reigns supreme over the album's closing number.  Overall, probably the most challenging Jon Hassell album I've yet encountered.  And still a really good one.

~Austin

What's New?: 12.26.2011

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?: 6.22.2011

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