Come on baby, eat the rich...

It's been a long time coming, but in my estimation "Land of the Dead" is primo George Romero. Viewing the previous three films might enrich one's appreciation for this big idea b movie, but it's hardly necessary for "getting it." There are things here that are simply right on. Universal picked up the low budget production, which gave Romero a chance to use the classic Universal logo, a worthy nod to an era that obviously touched the prepubescent auteur and the world at large. It's a thrill to see that clunky piece of revolving iconography before a film that's new, NOT a remake of anything. The director is giving us a wink and saying he's coming from a different place, that he gets the classic monster genre in a way that hacks today will never comprehend. It's a film that speaks more specifically to the conundrum of humanity and progress than anyone today would ever dare.

Horror shlock maestro Wes Craven and his 30-something stooge Kevin Williamson think they do something like this too. The repugnant "Cursed," with weird faced Christina Ricci as a sensual werewolf in training, was intended as sly homage to the Universal monster pictures, too, but in truth it was closer to a tepid rip-off of Wes/Kevin's "Scream" cashcow crossed with John Hughes teen dramadies. No one really means it; it's just a clever post modern satire--read as unnecessary bore--designed to appeal to you on a self referential level that at this point is just tedious and leaves you wishing Lon Cheney in original "Wolfman" garb or David Naughton circa "An American Werewolf in London" would pop out of a dark corner and start reciting a dissertation on the inanity of ironic send ups of already ironic horror films.

No to say that Romero doesn't appreciate some subtly irony of his own.

The Dead series is definitely about something more than gore and plot mechanics. It's about so much there's really no point in getting specific. Romero never falls back on the easy tricks of modern horror. He doesn't hate the ladies. He doesn't needlessly linger on gruesome images of cannibalism, though he has before, and in a sure to be released "director's cut" of "Land..." I hope he does again. There are some choice muscular chompings to be enjoyed in this shorter version, even an evisceration or two, but it's slightly toned down for a post 9/11 market. Folks don't need to be shocked out of complacency these days (unless they're Christians!), they just need to wake up and read the paper as they sip their morning coffee.

Against this backdrop Romero has formulated one of his richest zombie tales. Crammed into the 93 minutes are comments on evolution/Darwinism, class struggle, herd mentality, communist revolt, tolerance and more. Perhaps more so than with any previous Dead film, aside from "Night," viewers will leave discussing the philosophical implications of having and having not in the age of apocalypse, and testing their own preconceptions about so called solutions to larger problems. They'll also do their part in trying to identify the "true zombies" in the world today, and just possibly end up coming off like braindead cannibals in the process. That's the beauty of Romero.

Things drag a bit. The initial shock of the classic "Dawn..." can't and shouldn't be repeated, but it can be updated and streamlined. The makeup and special effects are incredible. CGI isn't on the menu. The cast, including yumyum Asia Argento (Dario's daughter), John Leguizamo (not that I'm a big fan, but this is his best scenery chewing support role ever), Dennis Hopper (remember him in the second "Texas Chainsaw Massacre"?) and plenty of familiar faces (including the one and only Tom Savini as "machete blade"--a slight reprise of his character in "Dawn") in supporting and cameo roles all snort, moan and chomp with glee. The zombies are beautiful to look at too. Again the real soul of the picture lies in their tortured moans, childlike fascination and developing compassion for one another, where the richies that inhabit Fiddler's Green are little more than caricatures--a symbol of excess and greed, with Hopper making a boring Prospero. All these folks could use a little more fleshing out, no pun intended.

Still in the end, this is a Dead movie with ideas and images that no one else could ever conceive--genuine filmmaking in an age when indie and major studio productions are practically the same thing and no one has a voice anymore. The master is up to his old tricks for a new age. True, it's not as good as "28 Days Later," but I like it more for my own biased reasons. There are moments that will leave you giddy and clapping with approval, not to mention sort of wishing Romero had been tapped to remake his own "Dawn of the Dead" last year, instead of some guy who used to direct Korn videos. But, contrary to popular belief, Romero does not repeat himself.

Two things:

1.) New stuff up over at Foxy Digitalis, including a recollection of one of my all time faves - CHROME - by founding member Gary Spain, gushing reviews of the new Angels of Light (by me), the awesome "Tone of The Universe..." comp on P-arcana and the new Wooden Wand and Vasnishing Voice album, etc; plus interviews with Ariel Pink, Drekka, Funeral Folk, a chat with my old pal and guiding light, Phil McMullen, and plenty more. Check it.

2.) Arthurfest this Sep 4 & 5th looks to about as good as I figured it'd be, only better. I hope to make it, but it's gonna be tough with another Cali trip in the works the following month. Check out the lineup though:

SONIC YOUTH
SLEATER-KINNEY
THE BLACK KEYS
CAT POWER
OLIVIA TREMOR CONTROL
T-MODEL FORD
MERZBOW
THE JUAN MACLEAN
DEAD MEADOW
COMETS ON FIRE
SUNN O)))
SIX ORGANS OF ADMITTANCE
VETIVER
JOSEPHINE FOSTER
SUNBURNED HAND OF THE MAN
WOLFMOTHER
GROWING
CIRCLE
RADAR BROS.
EARTH
MARISSA NADLER & JACK ROSE
MAGIK MARKERS
FUTURE PIGEON
BECKY STARK & THE LAVENDER DIAMOND
WINTER FLOWERS
with more acts to be announced shortly.

Jack Rose and Marissa Nadler together? You've got to be shittin'! Currently listening to the incredible "Catonapotato" by Volcano the Bear and totally loving every second...get it NOW!

So I was at the gas station today buying a lotto ticket, and couldn't help but notice this rather bodacious woman, curvy, cute, with her little daughter in line in front of me. As she turned to leave we made quick eye contact and I was immediately hypnotized. Ever seen someone on acid or cocaine? Their eyers are like THIS BIG and blinks are infrequent if noticeable at all. This chick looked like that. Every time I looked into her BIG BLACK EYES a wave of horror and perverse fascination rushed through me as all I could do was just stare hard right back at her! I had to struggle to rip my gaze away to find the more welcoming countenance of Mohammad, my attendant homeboy who worked the counter.

I considered it a moment and decided the chick had just received a botox treatment since her lips were pursed and fishlike, there wasn't a wrinkle in sight and the expression remained petrified for the minute or so we shared proximity. On the way to my car we locked eyes again, and I swear for a few seconds I felt my vital essence being sucked from my body. What the fuck?

Six Organs of Admittance Live 5-20-05...

...recorded at Fernwood Resort, a glorified restaurant/bar that is actually pretty cool. I highly recommend making the trip if you should ever find yourself rounding the sharp bends of Hwy 1. Thanks to Nari for hosting this.

Yamatzuka Eye with Light Hands


Stairway to Heaven


Green Stream


Welcome to Haight


Simply Divine


Monumental


Bottleneck Slide


Robbie the Redneck Hippie Hobo and Gurngy

See all this and more(!)...here.

Looky here:


and here:


Nabbed from my new favorite site.

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love "Deadwood." Its Henry James meets Mark Twain on crack historical fiction is surely among the most exciting, tense and utterly humane programming on television today. If there is a God (and I'm leaning that way), "Deadwood" should be around long enough to take its place as the next Sopranos, but as far as I'm concerned it already surpassed that storied Goodfellas tribute in its first season. If you don't have HBO, rent those DVD's! In the meantime, here's a great blogpost, nabbed from the WMFU blog, which features 7 minutes of pure unadulterated Deadwood cussin'. The irony here is that Deadwood is often criticized as being the most profane show on TV, but an average episode yields maybe 10 mins tops of true blue potty mouth. 7 mins of Deadwood, taken from episode 10, season 1.

An Amtrak train through the Southwest is sort of like Moss Eisley on wheels. Every kind of human and celestial ride upon its buckling frame on an even keel across a vast and desolate landscape. I saw and conversed with Indians (from India), a 74 yr old guy I will call Bob dressed like a train engineer with earrings, a fellow who resembled Sammy Hagar (sadly the most recent incarnation) named Ted. Ted showed me a pic of he and Gary Busey that looked like Gary and Sammy. Met an actor from the film "Waking Life" who resembled a young Malcolm X, en route to Austin no less. He had just one line. Listened to Jack Rose rolling across the Arizona sand at 3 AM. There were dangerous lolitas, bald ruffians (who no doubt split their time between the railroad and the lockup), mobile outlaws, beached whales, the health impaired (read as terminally ill) and every other kind of person (had breakfast with two cops one morning--sweet dudes!) all sharing in the common task of going to or from somewhere. The more discussions I had with folks, on and off the train, the more I could see the appeal of this mode of travel. It was long and disorienting. Day and night blurred together. The train bounced and swayed on the tracks, one car after the other, as if they were all together a massive 100 ton kite tail fluttering in the wind.

It's easier to be yourself when your past/future successes/failures are hundres of miles and dozens of hours behind/in front of you.

In the past five days I've seen live:

--The Books
--The Boredoms
--Six Organs of Admittance, The Blithe Sons, Sean Smith
--Om, Six Organs of Admittance (again)
--Six Organs of Admittance (one more time at an Amoeba instore...could I be a fanatic? Watch this space!)

What else? Much walking, hiking, riding, drinking, smoking, flexing, decking (I knocked a trolly driver cold) and finally resting ensued. I bought some records at Amoeba (impressive place!):

--Jackson C. Frank "Blues Run the Game: Special Extended Edition" 2CD (Sanctuary)
--Kevin Ayers "Joy of a Toy" [with bonus tracks] CD (EMI)
--Residual Echoes "S/t" CD (Holy Mountain)
--Bert Jansch "Rosemary Lane" CD (Castle)
--High On Fire/Ruins Split 7" (Relapse/Skingraft)

I will write more on all of this for the next Foxy Digitalis update and post some pictures when I hit my home PC in a few days...

This one looks like essential listening:

Volcano the Bear "Catonapotato" (Broken Face/Digitalis)

Certain things just need to be seen and heard to be believed. One of these things is to experience England, Leicester combo Volcano the Bear in the live setting. Nothing I ever say will accurately describe that evening last year when I made the trip down to the unlikely setting of their first Swedish gig (the art museum in Norrköping, a mid-sized town in Southern Sweden) but it goes without saying that it was a night of pure magic and brilliance.

Volcano the Bear was formed in 1995 with the constant idea of being a group with uncompromising and boundless ideas, and they’ve always tried to aim for a live environment where they can do pretty much whatever they please. This results in a live show that beyond grandiose sonic qualities blends the very essence of key words such as surreal, shifting moods, myriad of instruments, humor, beauty and to a certain degree even self-indulgence. That being said, these sonic transgressors are not for everyone but if you’re a fan of free-form improvisations, free jazz, weird drones, pagan folk, whimsical acoustic pieces, disjointed percussive riffs, crackling electronics and actually own more than one record by either the Sun City Girls, This Heat, Faust, Residents, The Shadow Ring or Captain Beefheart than you owe it to yourself to check these cats out.

If you’re not as lucky as me when it comes to attending Volcano the Bear shows I am happy to report that Catonapotato is a perfect example of what they are capable of in the live setting. All eight tracks presented here were recorded live by the duo of Aaron Moore and Nick Mott at four different occasions in 2004. These four shows took place in Leicester (England), Paris (France), Norrköping (Sweden) and Sheffield (England) and all broadcasts different sides of this talented duo. The number of styles explored throughout seems endless, though words like free, folk and jazz keep popping into my head. Catonapotato is not necessarily free jazz or free folk, but it does indeed display music that is completely free from any sort of constraint and structure. It just floats along however it wants to with the aid of squeaking and skronking horns, corrosive string massage and hypnotic drums that more than once approaches the tribal. It’s mainly an instrumental affair although some vocals come up on a few tracks and as if all this wasn’t enough we’re served some incongruous electric guitar rhythms that recalls the Sun City Girls at their very best.

All in all, it's just a brilliant sonic excursion down a musical path very few are brave enough to follow these days, and along the way the band manages to explain exactly why the true environment for Volcano the Bear is the live setting. If you never have come across this band before I honestly believe that you never have heard anything quite like it. This is meditation music for the drone/noise generation.

The Music Field Lovers Companion Festival is the event of the season, not to mention the first official live Jandek performance. The show at Instal last year actually featured a representative from Corwood Industries. Corwood will be releasing a live album of that show soon. Another once in a lifetime proposition arrives imminently:

Friday 20 May:

Keiji Haino: ‘The Secret of Music’ [a special 4 hour solo set using more than 40 instruments]

Saturday 21 May:

Vibracathedral Orchestra
My Cat Is An Alien
Kazuo Imai
Luc Ferrari & eRikm: “Les ProtoRythmiques”
Takehisa Kosugi

Sunday 22nd May:

Jandek
Nmperign
Shuji Inaba
Kyoaku No Intention [Munehiro Narita/ Shoji Hano]

I wish I could be there, but going to be watching Six Organs of Admittance and The Blithe Sons under a cathedral of sequoias. Check it:

May 20 & 21 Folk Yeah Weekend Mini Festival at Fernwood:

Friday, May 20th:

Six Organs of Admittance
The Blithe Sons
Sean Smith

Saturday, May 21:
BrightBlackMorninLight
Little Wings
Mire
Peggy Honeywell

More music blab...

Wooden Wand and the Vanishing Voice is another name to keep an eye on in the "new folk happenings." "Xiao" was issued on CD recently by Troubleman, long gone vinyl version some time earlier on De Stijl. Tower Recordings come to mind, and other destroyed folkies of the late 60s/early 70s, but this runs on its own delirium as heard on the slow melting opener, which features echo drenched spoken word on morality/Christ over archaic bells and droning harmonium. Throw in stumbling acid guitar from the stone age, fem siren songs and other charming effects, all informed by a preternatural beauty that never really relents, you've pretty much stumbled onto the archetype for stoned enlightenment. No idea why Troubleman issued this, aside from cashing in on the "stoner folk" revival. Whatevs...

Where's da pop? Somewhere within Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti. This fucked up freak porridge isn't going to take over the charts. Most folk'll give ya sharp crack to the cheek if you throw "Worn Copy" (Paw Tracks) on the changer. It sounds like it was recorded on third generation tape. The guitar tone is straight out of the Fisher Price catalog. And the songs...well they're a bit iffy on first listen. It's hard to tell whether Ariel means to whisk us away to a swirling sonic wonderland or just make us giggle in a plume of pink smoke. Maybe both? Can't help but listen to these rinky dink recordings of prog/psych/funk/hiphop and wonder what they'd sound like in a real studio. If Ariel wanted to he could probably be the next Death in Vegas 0r Beck, but for now I will happily settle for his lunatic, ramshackle madness in the bedroom. If read as negative criticism, you miss my point. It's a simple fact that this guy can take such seemingly disparate elements as early 90s lo-fi fuzz like Guided By Voices, Kraftwerk, Prince, Beach Boys, a borrowed 8-track and meld uniquely musical results. Get past the hiss and mud and you just might discover the first viable collection of original psychedelic muzawk of the new millennium.

Samara Lubelski can be heard cooing like a stoned cherub with the Hall of Fame; the haunted "Waves of Stations" is a sad little gem that I return to often in my more romantically detatched mixtape moments. She's also played with and/or recorded the Tower Recordings, Sightings, but who knew she was such an incredible songwriter in her own right? "Fleeting Skies" (Social Registry) offers 10 delicate strokes of vaguely psychedelic folk pop that's heavily inspired by Nick Drake (and Vashti!) and comes wrapped in a warm, austere production that would make Joe Boyd blush with envy. BUT it's all sung in Samara's blissfully enchanting register, which is about the most hypnotic voice in the world. Tasteful string swells on a few tracks, but mostly stripped down and direct. This Foxy Digitalis review goes into more detail. And looky here...a feature! One of the debuts of 04.

Birchville Cat Motel's latest is arguably his greatest. "Chi Vampires" (Celebrate Psi Phenomenon) builds from a murmur to a wail like the cosmic foreplay that eventually sparked the Big Spooge (though I realize that's a theoretically inept metaphor). BCM does seem to somehow chronicle the sonic trajectories of the heaviest, oldest elements in the universe with great skill. The results alternate between blissful layered minimal tones, harsh alien dreamscapes and tidal flows of distorted metallic screech. Definitely something for everyone here, and the final track (a mass of tinkling piano, feedback swells and power chord thunder) is one of the most perfect BCM numbers in history. Few will ever reach such heights, unless maybe they're hanging off of the wings of this beauty. Fookin' A.

Earth is surely one of the bands that Mr. Kneale of BCM spun regularly in his developmental phase. BCM's music sometimes sounds like a more ethereal counterpart to this legendary Seattle group's turgid subharmonics. Earth basically invented "ambient doom" back in 92 with the release of "Earth2" (Sub Pop), and then kind of faded from the scene as other groups like Boris and Sunn0))) emerged to fill the void, literally, with rumbling waves of hellish sludge that often sounded like Earth2 on 'roids. On board here to offer retoolings of various Earth originals are Mogwai, Sunn0))), Jim O'Rourke, Russell Haswell, Justin Broadrick and more unleashing long spindly deep drone scapes that go from gastrointestinal ooze to Fripp-trippy ambient dreams.

Lau Nau is another stunning arrival on the avant scene as far as I'm concerned. She plays/has played with many familiar Finn noise/folk ensembles at this point, but her solo work on "Kuutarha" (Locust) is probably most comparable to that of her friend Islaja. It's dainty, fractured folk with layered vox that somehow sort of instantly burrow their way into the heart and mind. All sung in her native language, I can't help but listen and think it wouldn't really be possible without the earlier voice/guitar workouts of the Charalambides, yet Lau Nau takes it further out on the ethnodrone ledge and weaves some incredibly alluring aural hypnosis that is entirely of her own making. Moments of this record are about as blissful and raw as anything I've come across in my heady trips through the musical hinterlands.

Finally got something by the Weird Weeds, a self released CD-R called "Hold Me" (Edition Manifold), and I'm happy to report that this is an utterly entrancing work. I think Digitalis will reissue it at some point, so hopefully more people will get a chance to soak up what I can't really put a name on. I can think of bands that come to mind across the expanse of these 10 charming art pop ditties, though--Maher Shalal Hash Baz, the Curtains, Gastr Del Sol and few others. Such comparisons are not made lightly, either. Warmly recorded, vocals often quite upfront (boy and girl) with a delicate--almost psych light at times--lead guitar sound, rougher rhythm strums, plaintive bass and percussion that goes from free jazz airiness to booming rhythms and back again. Addictive and haunting every step of the way. Great expectations, indeed.

Could we be saving the best for last? It's possible. Long Live Death's "Bound to the Wheel" is one extremely enchanting serving of modern psychedelic folk. It sounds very much like the quintessential Secret Eye release: The loud percussion, the rampant acoustic instrumentation, bowed saws, old world pagan folk structures, haunted vocals, stoned to the bone production--it's all here. And thankfully the actual songs are stunners, too. This will appeal to fans of the Angels of Light and the Iditarod equally, and it's far too unique for such lazy comparisons. But it's late and I'm tired, so that'll do, pig. That'll do.

So... erm Carnivale (the great HBO show about the impending apocalypse set in a traveling carnival during the dustbowl era) was cancelled. Tragic, really. Nothing else on TV comes even remotely close. Someone started a blog dedicated to saving it somehow, some way, somewhere. I'm not typically one for causes, but this one looks worth the fight.

A few quick notes:

Angels of Light/Akron Family gig went off without a hitch 2 nights ago in Big D. Akrons totally smoke live, like a barnyard Zeppelin crossed with the Band (dynamite 4 part harmonies way up in front). The heaviness was a welcome surprise, and they manage to recreate the depth of the studio album easily enough. A few shimmering crescendos, hilarious banter, spontaneous bird song, sheer joy and boundless energy unleashed excessively. They came off sort of like the shadow band that actually played all of the Monkees material... At least that's how Gira described them at one point, and it works.

This incarnation of the Angels of Light (with the 4 Akrons backing Gira) is just about the best one yet. The older songs had a more noticeable twang. The loud parts were louder. At one point Gira stood strumming his black acoustic bent over and shook his ass as he spanked himself repeatedly. No lie. They played a Dylan cover--"I Pity the Poor Immigrant"--and one seriously heavy trance/blues number that'll be released on their upcoming split album which will be recorded after the European tour. Those on the East Coast and Over There really oughtta take advantage of this singular live experience. Still some dates to see yet... Click 'news' for more info here: http://www.younggodrecords.com.

Love ya'll....

Props to MC for standing up to the vultures in the MJ trial. I've barely followed along and don't care to, really, but something in me sees Culkin as a genuinely credible witness. He's been through the media grinder and made it out relatively unhinged and could probably smell a ratt like Cory Feldman from a mile away. Not saying I think MJ is innocent or that I even care one way or the other. I just think the whole mess is sad, evil to its core, and the accusers and hovering vultures are the real molesters. MJ's been in prison for years now anyway, life without parole as a walking cadaver. Just imagine being him for a few seconds... OK, that's enough.

Have you heard of the Vegetable Man Project? Italian psych indie Oggetti Volanti hopes to release 50 volumes of 1000 different versions (!) of Syd Barrett's titular classic by the year 2030. They're up to Vol. 5 currently. Though I've not heard them all, 1 is truly a worthy document with versions that range from a cappella sung in the shower to the most destroyed acid pop explosions. Each copy of Vol. 1 came with unique artwork by the contributors, some of which can be glimpsed here. They're also looking for future contributors. Any Nordic black metalers wanna give it a shot?

Yet another ridiculous as fuck link between lsd and infanthood. Very cool.

So my skull got a little warped last night...

Thanks to Mr. Bacon for the visual aid. If you've never smoked hashish and gotten lost amid the resonating overtones of Mirror's "Under The Sun," try it one day. I then found myself spinning Excepter's "Ka" repeatedly and being completely charmed by its thumping dub-space industrial disco hoe-downs. I also made spiritual love with my best friend. Can't think of a better way to remove one's self from the enclosed tentacles of the society dragon than to reassign the most fundamental meanings, values, artistic statements of any given civilization. That's how it felt last night.

A different friend informed me recently that a unit in her apartment complex was burning down, and given that I've had various friends almost die in apartment fires over the last few years, I felt some sort of protest folk poem was necessary.

"Apartment Livin'"

Apartment livin',
It's your life that you're givin'.
Renting to owe,
Never be on your own.
All alone in a manmade honeycomb of drones.

Apartment livin',
It's your favorite misgivin'.
Chewing the bone, you hear your neighbors groan.
No green fields to roam, never have your own home...
Without a low finance loan.

Apartment livin',
Look at it this way:
You just might own it all one day...
And then when you do...
The landlord is you,
And still nothing gets fixed.
Either way you're still dicked.

Go ahead light that fire...
When you're apartment livin'.
Renting to drown. Goin up, goin' down,
It's bad on the knees.
Can't get no relief.
It's your soul that you're givin'...
When you're apartment livin'.

Foxglove continues to be one of the most active limited CD-R series in all the lands, and this stuff rarely disappoints, more often than not serving as a viable window into some of the finest home-recorded noise experimentalists in the world. Surefire is now distributing all of it, some of which is discussed below. So mosey on over there if so inclined:

Second Violin "Extinguished by Beating" CD-R - Glitchy layered drones, voices, sampled percussion and feedback refabricated as stupefying sonic voyages into the bottomless unknown. Occasionally threatens to develop a hook but mostly displays the slightest ghost of mobility. That being said opener "Room 347" goes from a dreamy industrial ooze to an actual pulse. The second track is a mass of layered vocals that recalls the early voice experiments of Cab Voltaire and The Hafler Trio. CV in the mid/late 70s when they were lost in creaking drone space and had yet to hone their fine edge. Also deep Kraut droners like Cluster and Popol Vuh at their most malevolent. The murky harmonics occasionally even sing to the soul.

Culver "Day of the Maniac" CD-R - A lone guitar is plucked for lost souls. Minimal whirring heard in the distance slowly grows like the coming day. The sense of space is palpable but the plodding rhythm makes sure this day is getting hotter and longer by the second. Loren Mazzacane Conners comes to mind, but lent a dreamier feedbacking blare like sunflares bouncing off a camera lens. The way the rudimentary guitar is augmented with layered plucks, low murmurs and backwords effects at various spots add an inscrutable haze to the tones.

Leannan Sith "In Search Of..." CD-R - A fractured "noise" spell that alternates between hummable oldy folky singalongs and pure head-scratching atonality, which means you might find yourself thinkin' Johnny Cash on smack one track, Dead C-ian waves of squlelch crossed with Comus on the next. Buckles and jerks in all sorts of zany directions and almost loses me entirely only to push the plunger down and shoot warm love all through my body. Country fuzz folk from the mountain children of Saturn (by way of Florida).

Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood "Lucifer's Bride" CD-R - Aussie brother/sister duo get panethnic with 5 swirls of acoustical raga mayhem and more frenzied sandstorms. The magic comes on like a warm breeze on the opening track which gets knocked off its axis by head-tickling metallic bowls. Elsewhere they combine tribal evocations with native chanting and scorching guitar smear. Throughout, all manner of wind and shaker instruments accent the loose, primitive feel. Amon Düül and early Ghost come to mind at times, maybe Matt Valentine and Erika Elder gone prog? All in all I prefer the more shamanistic parts, combining the finer elements of heaven and earth.

Jerusalem and the Starbaskets "Darkbasket" CD-R - Strummy lo-fi folk pop crumbles into clattery free drone and back again. The opener makes an impression as it builds from tormented loner warbling over guitar to tense strumming and feedback. This mostly feels like sketches or impressions of fever dreams, often delivered in dire all-or-nothing mode. The guy's gotta unleash it or someone will die. Each extended track alternates from rumbling sound sculpture to meditative acoustic passages replete with haunted voices and vocals. Mostly works well, see-sawing between cruddy feedback sculpture and soul searching acoustic introspection.

The Cone Bearers "Dew Drops on Grass Blades" CD-R - Improvised ethno sound dreams conjured on the day before Halloween in Tulsa, OK. They weave a timid drone melody early on with ornamental piano, bells, bows and more, while other pieces have a more billowy folk aura with ambient tones woven throughout joyful strumming: the spirit of the waking forest. My favorite moments are the more meditational dreams and meandering acoustic pieces. Though it's all pretty much meandering. Folky Jewelled Antlers, Six Organs and early Ghosts dancing in the green morning mist.

Terracid "Transcendent Reign Inheritor" CD-R - Somehow related to the sinister Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood mentioned above, this is some mighty fine free psych drone that builds to majestic heights with fem vocals gliding over exploratory screech and hiss at the start. The rest of the way we get mind-melting massed feedback and destroyed improv folk that wouldn't sound too out of step to any Tower Recordings junkie, but this is a messier more in the garage trip and mostly kicks some bung all the way through. ...Total and the Hototogisu obsessors might dig.

Snatched from Running the Voodoo Down, here is a fantastic essay detailing the latest cooption of youth culture by DA MAN perpetrated, interestingly enough, in the form of young female "pop singers" who wear Motorhead shirts in their videos. The author's dissection of the core values of metal is right on, though I question his contention that true metal can't be ironic when bands like Fantomas, the Linus Pauling Quartet and even Sabbath themselves have seemingly proven otherwise.

I've started to update this friggin thing multiple times in the last month, but something keeps coming up--diversions, technical failures--you name it. I even started to write a post about the constant barrage of distractions that befall all of us every day, but I got distracted before finishing. As a result I have a small mountain of recent acquisitions, many of which probably wont get mentioned that should, but one never knows with me and my "sense of organization." So I give you some brief (or not) sketches of recent albums that have my heart rate ascending:

The Soundtrack Our Lives "Origin Vol. 1" (Republic/Universal) - I love rock, dude. I think I always will no matter how cynical I may become. I'll also grow bored with it, turn my back on it, drunkenly denounce it as little more than the skittering drone of a hamster running on a treadwheel, but then something will happen. A darkness will fall, and I'll throw on Buffalo Springfield's "Bluebird" or what have you, and get that righteous fever all over again. Hasn't failed so far, anyway, and these Swedish superstars seem to understand it all in a way that few others can. A lazy listen to TSOOL could yield expected dismissals and accusations of shameless plagiarism, but read the name again. The Soundtrack of Our Lives are shameless "classic rock" raconteurs, celebrants of a bygone era when the music we loved, everybody seemed to love, was actually on the charts. The Soundtrack revels in rock's most worthy cliches while leaving most of the bullshit--AKA Axl Rose--behind. This is a well produced album (all of 'em are) with blatant nods to The Who, Buffalo Springfield and of course the Rolling Stones, YET it's still somehow fresh (enough) and worth my time. These guys toured with Oasis, and I'm not a big fan of those cocksuckers, but the pairing actually makes sense given that both bands have a similar appreciation for the so called golden age of rock. Oasis aint near as bad as indie rock dogma would suggest by they way. "Origin" may be the least rewarding work to date from these guys, but it's still worthy of the name.

Michio Kurihara "Sunset Notes" (Pedal) - One of the most explosive guitarists alive today. His performances with White Heaven, Ghost, Mainliner and Damon and Naomi (to name a few) all speak for themselves. This solo debut has nine disparate tracks, ranging from flambed spaghetti western rawk to shimmery guitar pop. Through it all that unmistakable tone guides the listener through fuzzbox eruptions, minimal guitar scapes, fried surf rock and mellow pop not at all far from Nagisa Ni Te. Not the shredding freakout expected, it's a subtler, more varied journey through some of Kurihara's favorite sounds and styles. To think one day rap-rock-country phenom Big and Rich will be inducted by the RNR Hall of Fame and this guy wont even get a lifetime achievement award.

The Stars "Will" (Pedal) - Not the swooning synth pop band from Montreal, but Japan's premier heavy psych punk behemoth. The Stars are a quartet that features half of the legendary White Heaven and once more includes Kurihara. The Sound? Pristine early 70s proto metal blues like Mc5, Led Zeppelin and Cream thrown into a crockpot and simmered to a boil. Singer/guitarist You Ishihara has been working for 20 years to cultivate the ultimate Japanese approximation of bad ass English rock god vocals, and he's about as close as he's gonna get on opener "Everlasting Daylight," a monster of booming, heavy grooves and soaring power chords. Pulverizing and blissful at the same time, the stadium sized melody approaches the most divine heights of garage psych, only to be outdone by the blistering soloing of Kurihara, on fire throughout. The slower, softer moments are just as good with intricate dual guitar interplay that brings to mind Television. Those digging on the new wave of Japanese guitar psych (Up-Tight, Miminikoto, LSD-March) are gonna be absolutely blown away.

Angels of Light "Sings Other People" (Young God) - Michael Gira got his latest signing the Akron Family to be his studio band on the Angels' 4th album, and it easily rivals their best (mainly the last two). "Sings" is pretty much Gira at hit most whimsical with some shimmery ethereal moments interspersed throughout. The centerpiece "Dawn" sums up his journey till now with his typical emotional intensity in well under 3 minutes, and it just happens to be a song of contentment, thank you very much. Its twangy blues melody under a warm rush of harmonies from the Akrons under Gira's easy going delivery is one his most seductive moments to date. It brought me to my knees last night about 1:30 as I played it over and over again in a dark room. It's not the only classic on here though. Gira's all about quality control. An album of "love with no sentiment," as he sings on "Dawn," that steps away from the somberness of the last record towards something closer to joyful release.

Akron/Family "S/t" (Young God) - Gira has done it yet again with the signing of this young combo. In 2001 is was Calla, 2002 Devendra and now he invites the wonderfully off kilter art pop of the Akron/Family into the stable. And I suppose I can say that Gira knows me well, because this is one of my favorite new discoveries so far in 2005. The balance between gentle, fractured songcraft and shimmery head-swimming minimal bliss is conjured as well as anyone out there today. The effect brings to mind The Band inhabited by the warped spirit of Daniel Johnston or a much more ambitious Grandaddy. Stoned folk pop with tape noise, field recordings, bizarre head-swimming sonic effects and grandiose arrangements that rarely open up to reveal a wall of sound, but when they do...Look out. Flaming Lips, Eno, later Swans, even the poppier aspects of the Jewelled Antler also come to mind. Su-weet.

Tower Recordings "Message From the Celestial Explosions" (Holoscanner Consciousness) - “Message From the Celestial Explosions” can basically be seen as a freer sister to the recently hatched and more widely available, “The Galaxies' Incredibly Sensual Transmission Field of the Tower Recordings.” The folk and blues shadings are less apparent this time out in favor of blurred dispatches from distant faded galaxies. These five pieces touch on later Sun Ra, Sandy Bull and spacey Incredible String Band, matter and antimatter, alternating between meandering improvised space jazz, primitive noise, free folk in a way that only the ‘Recordings can. It’s evident from the first track that they’ve grown dramatically as improvisers over the last decade, or maybe this 30 min voyage is just edited with maximum transport value over a very short period in mind. Either way, no wasted seconds to be found. They peak just over halfway in and don’t let up till the promise land is revealed in rippling cosmic waves of effected ethnic drones. Enveloping opium trances for those who long to flee this world on a regular basis.

Sun City Girls "Carnival Folklore Resurrection: Radio One and Two" (Abduction) - This 2CD was originally conceived and edited for transmission on WFMU freeform radio, and I'd say it ranks with the finest in this most splendifurous archival series. It pretty much touches on all aspects of the Girls' stupefyingly unique, and often absurdist, approach. First track is a mind blowing cutup of Buddhist funeral chanting morphing into random DJ dialogue and then into the daintiest Far East synth pop number you've ever heard, all sprawled out over 13 minutes. Glorious stuff, it also represents what's going on at Sublime Frequencies to the hilt. There's hilarious twangy pop, lo-fi noise, jazz skronk, answer machine messages, station ID's and much more, all stamped with the SCG's uniquely subversive/surrealist slant. Even dear old Uncle Jim gets in on the action with a stoned recital of historical metaphors and self aggrandizement that culminates in such lovelies as "That's right, there's me...and yer not" and "Just be careful. You wouldn't wanna get your dick cut off in public would ya?" spoke-sung in a voice that can only be described as familiar.

Digitalis Watch:

The Golden Oaks "Autumn Testament" (Digitalis) - They came, they saw, they took stringed instruments in hand and fell back on a bed of gold and green stroking and plucking the sound they heard. The title track is the forest awakening from a cool slumber with shakers and ambient chirps blossoming into trance inducing acoustic guitars and Keith Wood's high vocal over distant chants and cello. The much longer "Candles Dangling From Boxwood Branches" posits drifting acoustic strums against field recordings and shimmery guitar feedback before voice sings a hymn to the birthing dawn, then welcomed as a celebration that develops into a gorgeous piano/drone drift. Brian Eno AND Harold Budd combined couldn't do it any better. A more exultant air greets the noise folk of "Arisel Arisol" before deep space is further defined on the epic "Hushed By Bells" with strings and low humming feedback backing vocals wandering through the haze before it opens up to a mellow raga. "A Fog Has Lifted" closes with an ambient swell of strings and drones over animated clicks and scratches in an effect close to a meditative Birchville Cat Motel. Strong debut, hinting at greatness to come.

Braspyreet "Maamme Laulu" (Digitalis) - Clattery free/art rock from Fins who've been drinking the bad water. They kick up a stoned racket that falls somewhere between Beefheart and Throbbing Gristle on the opener and totally kick much caveman butt in the process. Elsewhere the spirit of the mighty Avarus looms large, and of course No-Neck Blues Band. These people turn up the insanity/intensity though, reaching the breaking point with blood curdling screams over white noise before they're through. I have a thing for such nonsense derived from free jazz, blues and tribal spells, and they know how to make the more atonal detours pay off well. Some parts are bound to click for those familiar with Braspyreet's contemporaries. The entirety is sure to scare and/or annoy most anyone else.

Matt Rosin and Dead Raven Choir "Fire Mouth" (Digitalis) - I wasn't sure how to take "Fire Mouth" at first, but after a few listens I'm starting to think I may never escape its clutches. This postal collaboration features Smolken on tenor banjo, troll cittern and double bass. Matt Rosin sings, plays piano, mbira, wine glasses and resonator jar. The tracks are mostly what we'd expect, skeletal folk dirges with Rosin's baritone vocal crooning over top. The voice takes some getting used to, but it's not a bad thing. I believe the word is character. His piano against Smolken's double base occasionally lends a slight broken jazz quality (Gastr Del Sol comes to mind), while other pieces alternate from meandering picking and plucking/ droning vocals to percussive clangfests and meditative torch songs. Say what you will about this stuff; it's unique, and "Fire Mouth" evinces some growth while maintaining the blackened soul quality of earlier releases. A few moments are even downright beautiful. Along with the brilliant "Sturmfuckinglieder" 3" CD-R, my favorite DRC release to date.

That's all for now. Expect a few more posts in the coming days, including a bundle of recent Foxglove CD-R's of varying note. Check out the latest update of Foxy Digitalis too. Featured this time are Hiroyuki Usai (the man behind the amazing "Holy Letter" album reissued last year on VHF), Baby Dee, Satwa, Pumice (Get "Raft" on Last Visible Dog NOW if you haven't), Lau Nau, Gayle Brogan, My Cat is an Alien, Brooklyn Noise (Black Dice, Sightings, Excepter, Double Leopards, etc.) Sublime Frequencies, and the Aanitarha fest in Turku.

Celestial Starbursts of the Nethervoid...

Molten heavy metal pumps through the heart of the winged avenger that is Om. By the way, sorry for my lack of posts recently, but I've been getting crushed under some heavy compost heaps, flying high when I can to, dare I say, rise above--even if only in my head--all that would compact me into a tiny ball of vein bulging rage. "Variations on a Theme" is quite possibly the most rediculously stoned blast of subterrainial sludge I've heard since Sleep's "Jerasulem" (see below) presaged the current apocalypse doom vogue with a seriously toasted conceptual piece about a Heaven-sent dope-smoking messiah. I knew next to nothing about Om before the promo hit my box. There was no press sheet. I was even too lazy to goto Holy Mountain's site and read up. Weak, I know, but as previously noted I do well enough just to wake up, drink some coffee and shit these days.

So, finally the CD donned a mind of its own, grew tentacles and skuddled off the desk right into the changer as an invisible finger pressed 'play' and within seconds my jaw had dropped 16 inches closer to hell as I ingested the barbaric display that followed: evil fuzz bass/drum downtuned fury banged out at a constant brain-numbing pace--not too fast, not too slow--with verse after verse of acid touched lyrics intoning images such as "I climb towards the sun to breathe the universal" and "The flight to freedom gradient raise the called ascendent" over some of the most monolithic rhythms to ever vibrate forth from my dying speakers. Didn't even realize it was just bass/drums making the racket right away, but at about halfway through the 20 min opener I realized the beauty and undeniable logic of this approach. There's something very freeing about heavy metal without guitar solos. Re the Sleep comparison earlier? This is actually 2/3's of Sleep, the very same rhythm section and voice responsible for Jerusalem. That actually explains things.

And the other third, Matt Pike, has his own heavy metal trio, High on Fire, who we must now concede absolutely kill in terms of punk touched classic metal and thrash. "Blessed Black Wings" (Relapse) was recorded by Steve Albini, and I have to agree that it's about time that little bastard finally worked with someone who crunches out REAL METAL while sidestepping all the lame post hardcore/metal core moves that are killing the underground today....Ya know, that nu-metal-for-kids-with-buzz-cuts shit. Can't stand it. Flailing human tornado drumming of Des Kensel, Joe Preston's (of Melvins and Thrones) assaultive bass and Pike's monstro riffs and leads, drawn equally from the metal prowess of Maiden and Slayer and bombed out early punk psych (think Motorhead, Blue Cheer) arrive at a blunt and very necessary hard and heavy sound that is far more memorable than it should be, but probably not for the weak of heart. It ain't death metal either. It just rocks harder than anything else out there. Comes with a bonus DVD that proves they can do it live, and sweat like a mother fucker in the process. Amazing is not an understatement this time.

I love Godflesh. They've already been mentioned in Womblife a few times over the months, probably in relation to their earliest, genre defying recordings, namely "Streetcleaner," "Slavestate" and "Pure" (all released on Earache over a decade ago). Since then Justin Broadrick has done more for the advancement of revolutionary extreme sounds than damn near anyone out there, save for John Zorn. There's his heavy as fuck noise/hip hop project with Kevin Martin, Techno Animal (get "Brotherhood of the Bomb" on Matador if ya wanna hear that shit done right), and he even guested with John Zorn's free jazz/death metal behemoth, Painkiller. Through it all he's labored on with Godflesh, occasionally adapting to advancements of the era, ie incorporating hip hop and jungle beats into his trademark sound, ultimately veering things further from what made Godflesh so unmistakablly unique in the first place. I can understand the need to not repeat one's self, but if she ain't broke... and it wasn't. Broadrick finally put Godflesh down with "Hymns" in 2001, the first album to feature a live drummer since the self-titled debut 13 years before. It was not that great, didn't suck either. Just seemed a bit too familiar.

The self titled debut by Jesu is a welcome and necessary addition to to the sludge/drone scene. Justin Broadrick's new trio is an ensemble that takes his ideas further into the cosmos than ever before while retaining every bit of that fascination with pure sound and heavy sonic themes--the loss of spirit and self to the ever evolving machine of the state and progress--of his previous band. But Jesu is more a frozen phoenix risen from Godflesh's ashes, its fierce flames captured in a smooth mass of cosmic ice reflecting like a celestial mirror. This is massive, envelping stuff produced with an ear towards the most hypnotic slow motion trudge. If Godflesh was marked by an urgent hatred for all repression, Jesu is something that's slower and sadder and more profound that transcends the hate. The end results bring to mind Godflesh (of course), Parson Sound, Bardo Pond, Eno and more. Hydrahead did a very good deed in unleashing this tormented beauty to the masses.

Here's a fine reason to puke and cry simultaneously. Extracted from the Hydrahead site.

I stole this review written by the exceedingly talented Nick Hennies from the Foxy Digitalis website to serve two purposes here: 1.) It fulfills a journalistic need for negative criticism (fair and balanced!), even though I didn't write it, and 2.) It perfectly, dare I say profoundly, sums up the inherent problem with admiring a band like And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead as anything more than a silly party band in this day and age. When was the last time a joke started taking itself too seriously in the indie rock world? Can ya say Urge Overkill? I saw these lads in 2001 or so, before a crowd of 50 tops, and personally I just didn't get it. No life altering conversion. No hooks. Nothing but a reminder of the former greatness of Unwound. A decent band, but a revelation? Not in my book. I remember one of them spitting beer on me and trying too hard to be dangerous looking (ironically, of course). Spinal Tap had more memorable stage antics.

And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead "Worlds Apart" (Interscope) 2 out of 10.

Sometime after the release of their major label debut, “Source Tags & Codes” Trail of Dead front man Conrad Keely posted an essay on the band’s website called “Abstract Art is Shit”. The essay claims that abstract art – specifically that of so-called “abstract expressionists” like Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko – is “shit” because it cannot be appreciated by the whole of society. While I hate to believe the cliché that minor stardom turns people into arrogant assholes, with this kind of evidence fighting in favor of the cliché it’s hard not to believe that some stereotypes exist for a reason. How presumptuous to completely discount one of the most important artistic movements of the 20th century based on the fact that your 5-year old niece finds it “ugly” and you find it incomprehensible. I can’t say I was shocked to have read such a thing; Trail of Dead always succeeded not on their artistic merits and musical innovation but by being destructive, pandering, and fun. I once saw Jason Reece, before playing “Homage”, say “It’s an Unwound rip off. I’m not afraid to admit it.” It was an endearing moment where I was reminded that this was a band unafraid of being tagged “derivative” that concerned themselves only with putting on a great show. Sadly, in 2005 you will find no such candidness from these black-haired boys (or men, as I’m sure they’d prefer).

If I needed music to accompany Keely’s pseudo-intellectual rant against experimental art then I’d need to look no further than his band’s newest album, “Worlds Apart”. This is an album so in love with itself that it has an overture – 85 seconds of instrumental music that sounds remarkably like the opening of composer (and Nazi sympathizer) Carl Orff’s “Carmina Burana” or, if you like, every action-thriller film trailer ever made. It seems that Richard Strauss-like (another Nazi sympathizer!) overindulgence is par for the course as the entire album is littered with timpani, horns, string sections, a chorus, vocal effects, samples, sleigh bells, vibraphones, wind chimes, bird sounds, synthesizers, a faux-folk song waltz interlude, and huge stadium rock drum sounds catering to an anthem mentality where every song must be winning and triumphant. The result isn’t an album that sounds overextended or forced – Trail of Dead has more skill than that, they’re competent songwriters – but pushy and overconfident. Perhaps some people are swayed by this (just look who this country voted in as president) but I find it difficult to accept when the music is so predictable and off the shelf. The bulk of “Worlds Apart” is completely forgettable, a relentless string of attempts at anthemic songwriting full of cynicism, empty sentimentalities, and clichéd hooks. The repetitiveness and familiarity of it all becomes tiresome by the fourth track and unbearable by the twelfth. The album isn’t even ten minutes old before it becomes the Conrad Keely Show. Interscope Records seems to have footed the bill for Keely’s own personal soapbox with Jason Reece’s songwriting, previously providing much needed variety, inconspicuously taking a backseat.

The most painfully memorable moment of “Worlds Apart” is the album’s title track, a happy-go-lucky melody with lyrics that have Conrad Keely pointing his soft finger directly at the rest of the world. The lyrics for this song are so overwhelmingly ridiculous that they bear reprinting here. There are some errors in places where the singing is hard to understand and I have no interest in listening to the song repeatedly to iron them out. I think what I have here is plenty sufficient:

Random lost souls have asked me “What’s the future of rock n roll?”
I say, “I don’t know, does it matter?”
In that scene they sound all the same to me
Neither much worse or much better
We’re so fucked these days we don’t know who to hate or who to praise
Consider that, suffering in pain ("Hey, is that Kurt Cobain?)
It’s a privilege, the fact we forget about as we go (winding??) all over the place
How they laugh as we shove all the ashes Iraq has soured
Blood and death we will pay back the debt of the candy store of ours
Look as those cunts on MTV with cars and cribs and rings and shit
Is that what being celebrity means?
Let boys and girls and BBCs(???), corpses, rapes, and amputees
What do you think now of the American dream?
And the soccer moms and dads who raised their brats on those TV ads
I know that they sleep tonight
Their conscience is intact, they’ve convinced themselves of that
Giving money to Jesus Fuckin’ H. Christ
How they laugh as we shove all the ashes of the twin towers
Blood and death we will pay back the debt of the candy store of ours

Presumably only widespread commercial success or severe delusions of what constitutes reality could cause a person to be this condescending to the industry, fans, and social system that made his success possible. He discretely directs the song to “everyone” using self-inclusive words like “we” and “us” but I’m not buying it. If the rest of the world is laughing their days away at the candy store then Conrad Keely is the candy on the shelves, playing the escapist pop music he claims to have such disdain for. Never ones for subtlety, the 9/11-referencing chorus returns at the end of the album (just like “Jesus Christ Superstar”, another tasteless rock n roll epic), only this time it is half sung/spoken with a woman crying over top the lyrics. With this ominous and defeated warning (“This Jesus must die!”) about our societies impending doom the album launches into its final track, ending the album with a lame drum machine beat and a repetitive melody.

Simply stated, “Worlds Apart” is a sad reminder of what success and widespread admiration can do to a person. Until recently I had been a fan of Trail of Dead’s music since their first album was released to overwhelmingly negative reviews. I have watched this band develop from accused Sonic Youth plagiarists to one of the biggest indie rock bands in the world. Now we find ourselves miles from where we started. There are no more calls for pact suicide, no more perfect teenhood, no more spontaneous stage shows (there’s something decidedly less exciting about a guy smashing his guitar when his guitar tech is waiting to hand him a new one). Everything must be “meaningful”, the music must have great importance and weight. It is no longer enough to just have a good time, which is a tragedy because in their prime Trail of Dead had a better time than anyone. Trail of Dead in 2005 bears little resemblance to the band they once were, a ghost of better times. “Worlds Apart”, indeed.

Let me say it again: If you aren't in love with classic "folk" or "roots rock" albums released before you were born (or when you was just wee high) with titles like "Music From Big Pink," "Blood on the Tracks," "On the Beach," "Astral Weeks," "Stormcock" and "High, Low and In Between" just to name a meager few, there's something missing in your life.

There was once a time when honest, personal songwriting and unique perspectives were honored and revered by the music buying public at large, and very occasionally even at a mass level. Light pop, folk rock, the hippie 60s and the resultant early 70s folk and roots rock boom all brought a tide of warmth and genuine "goodness" and human joy to the airwaves and helped a wounded society get back to the daily business of living and loving. If a little buying was involved too, we could let it slide. Just buy something for the soul, maybe a good book, or record or even a DVD. Maybe some trinket or little totem. Or a trip somewhere nice. "On the Beach" holds so much more resonance in the world today, and how some of us are dealing with that sinking sensation, than every lame post 911 tribute song compiled since. Maybe it's not a surprise to some that everything has gotten so much more fucked up since, but it doesn't make it any easier for anyone raising a family or trying to find love amid so much hate. These lines from Young's "Motion Pictures" say it well:

"Motion Pictures on my TV screen,
a home away from home,
and I'm livin' in between,
but I hear some people
have got their dreams.
I got mine.

I hear the mountains are doing fine.
Morning glory is on the vine,
and the dew is falling.
The dukes are calling.
Yes I've got mine.

Well all those people,
they think they got it made,
But I wouldn't buy,
sell, borrow or trade
anything I have...
to be like one of them.
I'd rather start all over again.

Well all those headlines,
they just bore me now.
I'm deep inside myself,
but I'll get out somehow,
and I'll stand before you,
and I'll bring a smile
to your eyes..."

"Escape from reality" has never been a more acceptable evolutionary response. Every song on "On the Beach" is loaded with such honest reflections. But Young also knows we won't ever get anything done hiding in the shadows. Leave that to Jihadists and shadowy old game theorists pulling the strings from above and below. My real point in all this soapboxing is this: If you really feel this "classic folk rock" and folk-pop stuff, you might actually appreciate what's going on right now in the musical underground of today.

Listen closely and you might hear The Skygreen Leopards rolling and dancing in "Life & Love in Sparrow's Meadow" (Jagjaguwar). What these lads do is tap into that same spirit of all these old folkies and songwriters mentioned above with just as much wit and clarity, but they take it even further down the rabbit hole. The heavier rhythmic edges of rock are slightly whittled away here for the sake of simpler musical arrangements and sheer musical joy. That joy is leveled out by as much fear and sorrow, but this stuff always come from from a deeply felt, human place. The subject matter--largely a patchwork of vivid journeys into nature and the self--seems to echo Neil Young's sentiments above in a more abstract and direct way at the same time. There's such simple beauty in the plaintive "Mother, the Sun Makes Me Cry," a track that builds in a swirl of jangly acoustic guitars, hand drums and jew's harp to a chorus of Donovan and Glenn's disparate timbers woven together, almost clumsily echoing the rawer side of the Band. These songs are paintings that reveal visible beauty at first glance but also give you reasons to revisit and rediscover deeper, more hidden messages from the green mind. Throughout I capture glimpses of melodies from people like The Byrds, Them, Simon and Garfunkle, Bob Dylan, God, but the performances are so loose and natural you could almost call them "free." The only real reference point that comes to mind is Dylan and The Band on "The Basement Tapes," a collection of rehearsals and demos that just happens to be the greatest double album ever recorded.

"School of the Flower" (Drag City) by Six Organs of Admittance is my favorite release to pop from Ben Chasny's psychic womb yet. The guy's matured admirably, delving deeper into pure emotional catharsis from the songwriter's perspective and finding the way to his own voice in the process. I've always been blown away by his guitar skills and how he can turn a cryptic phrase into an epic dark folk invocation. With "School" though there's something almost new at play...call it joy. He splits things down the middle between free jazz/ethnic psych pieces, two featuring the great Chris Corsano on percussion, and gorgeous, heartbroke sermons from the mound about life, love and the Great Big Nothing At All. The concept of Nothing is not a fun thing to come face to face with, but when you can stare it down and see all the way to the other side of that abyss, and realize you're just looking right back in your own eyes, maybe it's not such a bad thing. Ben's always been one to come at whatever his chosen art is from a more personal perspective, and it's tempting for some cynical sorts to dismiss the hip folk magus image as just that, but it's more and more apparent that this is for real. You can hear the enthusiasm and passion in his voice, see the certainty in his finger tips. These 8 songs--be they slow, rambling folk-pop gems or long, cycling prog folk jams--never divert from that path of certainty. Golden.

"The Earth is Blue," Damon and Naomi's new full length with Michio Kurihara of Ghost, White Heaven and The Stars, is an absolutely gorgeous feast for the heart and soul. Includes a stunning cover photo that I could easily take as another homage to that Neil Young classic quoted above, but that's probably just me showing my bias and abundant gratitude to Mr. Young. The music here is some of the most graceful, lovingly rendered studio work from these people yet, and they somehow carry on the high mark set by their previous studio album, recorded with three members of Ghost, and the following CD/DVD live set, "Song to the Siren," their final release for Sub Pop. "The Earth is Blue" is the flagship release for the duo's own label, 20/20/20, and it appears they've saved the best for most recent. These songs, lent stunning depth by Kurihara's singular guitar presence and Greg Kelley (trumpet) and Bhob Rainey (alto sax), honor a line that reaches all the way back to the first Damon and Naomi album, but the compositions are deeper and richer than ever before. There's really no way to put it other than that. Fuzz guitar, graceful electric leads, bass, piano, drums and Naomi's gorgeous vocals are all given plenty of room to float and resonate in the warm mix. In fact the weakest track here is probably the cover of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," which is actually amazing. The following "Ueno Station" is a sparse slow folk hypnologue "for Tomokawa Kazuki and Mikami Kan." Not to be outdone is the gliding dream of Caetano Veloso's "Araçá Azul" (Blue Guava) which connects magnificently with the closing title track as if both were always parts of the larger whole. Their best one yet. The first 100 ordered from the website came with a limited live CD-R captured in Tokyo in early 2004 that also features Kurihara and the great Taishi Takizawa (of Ghost) on flute. It's probably long gone though.

Speaking of Ghost and others Chasny has taken inspiration from, L (aka Hiroyuki Usui) played drums with Ghost before they were even Ghost, and Fushitsusha and Marble Sheep too! But on "Holy Letter," originally recorded around 1990, privately released 5 years later, and now widely available for the first time on VHF with liner notes from Mr. Chasny himself, the aura is gorgeously downcast and blurred to the point where dream space and reality flow together continuously in one deep river of love. This is unlike anything out there, yet many specters and masters past/present might materialize across the expanse of these 11 song journeys. Usui, on almost all instruments here, is quite simply a master of spacious folk blues and transcendental noise, weaving slow sad melodies from acoustic and electric guitars, the sounds of rainfall, the most haunted vibe work, cello, didgeridu, and more along with his own expressive and utterly accessible voice--employed as spoken word, singing, throat singing, etc--which loses none of its potency to foreign ears. Considerate sequencing and production lends the entire work a cohesion, and quite simply a holy aura, as various strains of one piece bleed into another to reveal a constant flow of hypnotic ecstasy. Perfect for readjusting to the sun's harsh glare after a particularly dark night, and an all around joy to behold. This reissue is definitely one of the most exquisite rediscoveries of 04, and there were certainly a lot of those.

"Halo" By Current 93 (Durtro/Jnana) is another intense and visionary disk that creeped out of the pop cellar in late '04. The former David Tibet's (now David Michael) band's latest live album is a genuine masterpiece of gothic chamber folk, industrial noise, hope and glory captured in one night in October, 2003 at Queen Elizabeth Hall in London with Chris and Cosey lending support. Now that's a piece of rock history right there, and thankfully dear seeker of emotional catharsis and heart-breaking song, Current 93's role that night is now much more than just a memory. If you've yet to take the great plunge into the vast and complex world of Current 93, this is as good a reason as any. It's also one of the more stunningly performed and recorded live albums I've ever heard, and I've heard more than I care to remember. Every aspect of David's musical accompaniment here is first rate. You dig Angels of Light? You'll love this. Like Godspeed You Black Emperor, but think they're a bit too predictable and uh...soulless? Look here for what's missing. Inspiring is an understatement. "Halo" is a brilliant selection of 16 songs, drawn mostly from the previous 12 years (Current 93's most vital phase), painstakingly rendered as one unforgettable whole. No surprise I have two other new c93 releases in transit to thee headquarters as I type... "Watch and pray," indeed.

tra_mendous: my theory is
tra_mendous: when humans destroy humanity....
tra_mendous: and some alien race exploring our solar system discovers our ruins
tra_mendous: kraftwerk will be the most helpful hint as to where to begin decyphering our code
i_miss_jim_laffin: yes... "they were a traveling culture."
i_miss_jim_laffin: "they loved robots and acid."

10 Great Fuzz Pop Records for Gregory...

In an effort to expose this guy to some rock music that adheres to pop sensibilities and heeds the restrictions of the sacred verse/chorus/verse archetype simultaneously, I give you ten new and recent examples of melodic fuzz pop:

Jennifer Gentle "Valende" (Sub Pop) - Weird Italian psych pop that falls somewhere between early Pink Floyd (the good shit) moddishness and Joe Meek productions (think looney tunes acid visions) that's delivered as actual songs, free noise freakouts, manic madlibs, bad trips, happy/sad sing-alongs. Weird but rewarding stuff that sounds disturbingly vibrant.

Spacemen 3 "Playing With Fire" (Fire) - If God were drugs and rock n roll were the savior, this would be the bible with which we hear The Holy Word. One of the coolest records in history, cut down the middle between effects laden minimal pop dreamscapes and blistering white noise rockathons. Masterful Divination for the sobriety impaired.

The Telescopes "The Telescopes" (Tristar) - A mellower tour-de-force from these UK space rockers; shimmering dream pop with a heavy dose of Love/Byrds jangle devotion and stellar harmonies. Excellent production from Guy Fixsen of the perpetually listenable Laika, making this a classic of sorts and essential listening for fuzz enthusiasts everywhere.

The Wedding Present "Take Fountain" (Manifesto) - Best album Dave Gedge and his raging hormonal ensemble has released since "Seamonsters" (well ok, since "Watusi"), and this even after a 5 year lay off! Cinerama was nice, but this is just super duper. Joy Division meets Love? Why not...

Monroe Mustang "Plain Sweeping Themes for the Unprepared" (Trance Syndicate) - One of the great hidden treasures in the Texan underground, these Oklahoma to Austin transplants keep it dusted and blown, somewhere between Bowie and Crazy Horse, or Pavement and Bedhead, or The Pink Mountaintops and Black Mountain, only with their own magnificently stoned oblivion/lo-fi aura that pretty much demands glazed attention. Sadly they're no more, which is a real a shame given they're much more interesting than that other "band of the moment" whose initials are MM (and I don't mean Eminem).

Yura Yura Teikoku "3x3x3" (Midi) - I know little about this Japanese group, aside from they are without a doubt the most energetic, melodic, poppy and truly intense psych group I've heard in years. A bit like Sweden's Dungen, bit like the 13th Floor Elevators, Kinks, Velvets, White Heaven, but tighter, heavier, faster, more raw, Japanese lyrics, blistering acid guitar eruptions. This dates from around 98, their first album. Don't know anything else (though Michio Kurihara appears on their album from 2004 and the bass player may have been a member of White Heaven). Click here for more info on their recent (and costly) import only albums.

Low "The Great Destroyer" (Sub Pop) - The Kings (And Queen) of Slowcore return with an album produced by the King of Noise Pop--David Fridmann of Mercury Rev--and it is at least half of a good album. I consider this Low's power pop rekkid as the tempos are faster, the songs more dynamic, and the whole thing sounds less ominous and foreboding, but it's pretty noisy and lumbering in spots. There's even a chorus or two you can sing along with and a whole heck of a lot of fuzz!

A. C. Newman "The Slow Wonder" (Matador) - New Pornographers lead singer guy goes solo and sounds just like the Pornos: raucous, off-beat power pop/new wave, kinda like Big Star meets Roxy Music (what with all the power chord meets acoustic guitars and bang bang pianos and cheesy keyboards). Arguably better than a Brian Ferry solo album.

Magnetic Fields "Charm of the Highway Strip" (Merge) - Classique minimalist synth pop/country road songs. Sort of like Hank Williams as reinterpreted by early Human League, maybe. A beautiful, bittersweet song cycle about breaking up and falling in love out on the modern day range we call the lonesome highway. The 'Fields at their best.

Quickspace "Precious Falling" (Hidden Agenda/Kitty Kitty) - Great British indie guitar drones, poppy songs, expansive experimental pieces, uprourious anthems and bellycrawling minimal ditties. Not that easy to get into, but worth the struggle for those who dig the prospect of a giddier garage take on early Stereolab with a great raw guitar sound and deep variety. These guys/gal are so good they're mostly ignored by the indie listening public at large. Go figure.

Still playing catch-up with all the big Oscar contenders of '04. Most recently that means "The Aviator" and "Riding Giants," both of which totally kicked ass as far as I'm concerned. The former is the best thing Scorcese's done since "Kundun." Leo Decaprio has a mad glint in his eye that suits the disturbed flyer well. It sucks to have to praise him, but dem's da breaks. People wanna think Scorcese has lost it and "gone Hollywood" (I'm one of 'em), but I'd say "The Aviator" proves otherwise while literally going Hollywood at the same time. "Riding Giants," directed/edited by the same guys that did the righteous "Dog Town and Z Boys" a couple years back, gives the history of big wave surfing the kind of mythical resonance it deserves. I'm not a surfer, but like every young lad who goes through that "I wanna be an astronaut" phase, I've always dreamt of riding a big giant or two. Almost sounds perverse. Speaking of which, I love the name "Laird Hamilton." What a beautiful man. Also, see "Million Dollar Baby" if you haven't. Boxing movies may not be your gig, but you've never seen one directed by Eastwood with this kind of film noir atmosphere. He's a genuine renaissance man making personal, artsy fartsy indie films in the deplorable studio system like it's still 1952. My hat's off to the guy.

The return of American Idol on the airwaves has got me thinkin' of hot new pop contenders in '05. I've not seen one show of this season so far, and I'm'a feelin' the hurt in my bones. Apparently the keyboardist of Dallas area psych rawkers The Falkon was on last week, and I know there are wonderful new clowns and angels of many stripes to be gawked at and groaned over, but Lord help me, I've missed it all! Needless to say, I feel a great gulf between myself and our abominable American culture beast...it's lonely.:-( In terms of my own American idolatry, Antony and the Johnsons are coming on early as strong contenders for true Idol status. For those who don't know, Antony is a very tall cross-dressed singer and musician, but his fashion appears to be more derived from the early 70s glam androgyny of David Bowie and Andy Warhol's Factory than New Orleans drag queens. His voice is a tremulous, operatic wonder that draws inspiration from the jazz croon of later Tim Buckley and classic soul balladeers, and conveys lyrics that are personal and emotionally direct, usually as multitracked harmonies. Then there's his band, an accomplished chamber pop ensemble that specializes in artful baroque arrangements, mellow jazz scapes and majestic pop symphonies, always performing with a knowing ear towards experimentation. Antony's voice and style may not be for everyone, but those who can make the hurdle will find something that rivals a Pedro Amaldovar film in its ability to flesh out the humanity of characters that most mainstream media would call anything but. Antony is no joke, and a lot more sonically interesting than *insert hyped crooner of the moment here*. The music on the brand new "I Am a Flower Now" (Secretly Canadian) deftly sidesteps any sensational spectacle and lands directly in the realm of classic post glam balladry that makes me melt. Think Scott Walker, later Big Star, early 70s Lou Reed, Roxy Music, etc...

And what about this Cass McCombs character? "Prefection," released last year on 4AD and this year on Monitor in the US, is a fab slice of ethereal post punk cum soul psych that manages to remind me of plenty of eras and artists but maintains a timelessness throughout with its plentiful serving of minimal post punk/ethereal pop falling somewhere between John Lennon to and Soft Cell. Sugary sweet and lovingly rendered from beginning to end, yet Cass can kick up a worthy guitar crunch when needed over the ever present early 80s synth wash. Pretty much what you'd expect from a guy whose band has featured members of Palace, the Curtains, Long Live Death, The Oxes, Deerhoof and others. Another newbie comes to me via a package from the very kind Alan Davidson aka The Kitchen Cynics, whose "Compulsive Songwriting Disorder" has just been issued on CD-R by Audiobot. His chum Phillip Johnston plays a very accomplished mix of jazz psych in the Gong and Caravan mold along with true blue psych folk gems and spacious acid detours on the self-released "Sundaram" CD-R, featuring lyrics on one track penned by Davidson. This is a an absolutely captivating surprise that I hope more people will hear. Rarely does a self-released demo come with these kinds of complex harmonies and such a wide musical berth (incorporating guitars, flute, bass, mellotron, etc) that's fully dressed for mass consumption. Contact Phillip here for more info. In the same package Alan threw in the Kitchen Cynics' brand new self-released "Master of the Fuzzy Fadeout," which features 18 more mellow psych folk pop gems anchored on his languid vocals and trippy-dippy noise effects, introduced by John Peel of all people. Includes a Green Pajamas and Fairport cover, a re-recorded version of Bridget St. John's "Ask Me No Questions" and a guest contribution from Jesse Poe of the moody chamber folkies Tanakh.

Also of interest are two recent releases on the forest/noise/psych/folk chroniclers, Secret Eye. First up that means The Big Huge, who weaves a stark folk pop spell on "Crown Your Head With Flowers, Crown your Heart With Joy," a bittersweet confessional of home spun acoustic pop that's worthy of comparison to Neutral Milk Hotel, Will Oldham (albeit with more wyrd folky/banjo inclinations) and sounds a lot better than Bright Eyes. Quite beautiful, really. Finnish free noise groovers Avarus return with their second album released in North America, first one "III" was for HP Cycle, this time for Secret Eye. "Jättiläisrotta" is about as fine an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink clatter fest as I've heard from these wild fuckers yet. How to describe it? Feral, unhinged psychotic tribal jams that alternate between clattering collage and driving kraut pulse. Nice to see these lads/ladies readily available on our soil. A mini tour can't be far off...

Now...for the psych: First of which is the Danish power trio Hurdy Gurdy. A year or two after the recording of their self-titled disk they would mutate into the incredibly gorgeous acid folk butterfly Amber, but this is what I've been lookin' for, Akarma's reissue (from 2002, still widely available) of the self-titled Hurdy Gurdy, issued in 71. The vibe is thunderous heavy blues psych in the Cream/Experience mold that's flawlessly executed as complex power trio jams and intricate jazz interplay that features some truly mind-boggling acid leads from singer/guitarist Claus Bøhling. There's also an extended Indian styled raga (with beautiful sitar) that exposes the more ethereal realms Amber would explore a year or so later. Bless Akarma for resurrecting this beauty complete with their trademark album style packaging. Yeeessss, more good shit that hits on a similar head/gut level can be found on Miminokoto's excellent "III" (Siwa), still available in a limited vinyl edition from Siwa. These vintage studio recordings are a nice inverse to the more damaged live disk released last year on Last Visible Dog. Fans of LSD-March, High Rise, White Heaven, Broomdusters (members of all of these bands comprise the power trio lineup) and other scorched power jammers need this one asap. A more in depth review of this should be posted in the next Foxy Digitalis update. More to come, kiddies...

Hey dudes, I'm still kickin'. Expect a couple updates, mostly of a musical nature, this weekend. In the meantime, via AMG, here is a thought-provoking review of the two new Bright Eyes albums "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning" and "Digital Ash in a Digital Urn" that exposes Conor Oburst for the fraud that he is. Return shortly...

Some nutter has the entire run of the Sub Pop's Single of the Month club for auction on EBAY and it's only at $4,500.00 right now: http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&category=306&item=4064898137&rd=1

A few more releases to make note of before movin on to the next orders of bidiness. After having the three recent releases on Digitalis for a month or so I've finally been able to get my ears around 'em, and I can say without reservation, each one offers something for the introspective traveler. In the case of The Lost Domain's "Sailor, Home From the Sea," coreleased on my old pal Mats' Broken Face imprint, that means ominous atmosphere and austere experimentation. This one took me some days to come to terms with, 'specially after the busier free jazz/psych scapes that made up their last CD-R for the Rhizome label, owned/operated by the ever knowledgeable Jon Dale. It's quieter and chillier, but rarely relaxed. The instrumentation is scaled back to the point that sometimes there's just organ or sax, faint percussion and the ghost of a guitar along with a wind instrument or some chimes pushing things forward. From the two part bookends of a cover of John Lee Hooker's "Waterfront" (complete with vocal cackles) to the four instrumentals that comprise the meat of the platter, each track offers a wind-swept journey through the deep dark blue void. These tracks have the mythical sway and pull of a Greek epic where the tumult kicks up a dank atmosphere of salty spirits, restless electronics and even some haunted melodies, all searching for that path back home.

With "Under Bent Limb Trees," Hush Arbors' follow-up to the excellent "Since We Have Fallen" CD-R, Keith Wood further expands on the haunted drone folk tapestry of his earlier works with minimal pieces of transcendental dream music juxtaposed with distant folk melodies. Wood's fragile, high voice glides over top an organic melange of guitar, bowed dulcimer, singing bowl, banjo, found sounds and more, all brilliantly constructed as vivid forest songs. In the case of the albums centerpiece "May All Your Pastures Now Spring With Herbs" that means acoustic guitars and voice are augmented with dissonant feedback washes, falling somewhere between the Ivytree and Flying Saucer Attack. While "Gypsy Wood" reposes his folk meanderings with the faintest hint of drone that seems to echo a distant siren call. What makes Hush Arbors essential listening though is the way Wood tempers these more intimate pieces with vivid strokes of minimal noise that convey a sense of bleary-eyed reverence and quiet contemplation. I should've ranked this one higher than the Foxglove CD-R (now long gone, save for piracy measures), but I doubt the dozen or so people who read this regularly will mind the discrepancy.

Also new on Digitalis: James Blackshaw's "Lost Prayers & Motionless Dances." This young Brit is a newbie to me, but his playing sounds as inspiring as the Adirondacks (or Appalachians or the Sierra Nevadas...). Put quite simply, there's a new finger picker in town, and he smokes in a post Robbie Basho way that will have you Jack Rose fans tripping over your tongues reaching for new ostentatious descriptions to wow the hip masses with. On top of some fluid 12 string workouts he piles on harmonium, radio, bells, cymbal and tom, but the mix is tastefully employed, building from a trance intro of harmonium fluctuations to florid 12-string raga that really does the job in terms of sweeping the mind clean before arriving at a mellower cul de sac of free/electro fuzz bits and muted quarks that eventually erupt at a folk gallop before its over. It's a trip in the purest sense of the word, one track clocking in at 35 mins, which makes it highly digestible in about the same amount of time it takes to have lunch or trip balls on some DMT. Looks like I'll have to hunt down his first release on Celebrate Psi Phenomenon before all's said and done.

I realize that some of the older hippie cognoscenti out there may take issue with my placement of "Smile" in the year end list. I totally agree with all who recognize the cultural import of its deliverance from abandoned masterpiece hell, and it's been directly responsible for the shedding of many a Texas tear in the intervening hours since I purchased it it, but it's like old...OK? And in case you haven't noticed, this isn't the Summer of Love. Despite the deceptive presentation of the previously posted Best of List, those albums, including the runners up, can be taken in pretty much any order you wish. Lists, numbers, any standardized measurement of worth is pretty much bullshit in my world. The simple truth is 2004 was Da Bomb. I'm sure wherever you looked you found something worth hearing. Whether you ran your flag up the pop pole or slid it out the jazz boom, shit rocked, divas cooed, booties shook, hip hop owned (well rented). Avril Lavigne was back sans tie and gothified, Eminem fumed (again), Nora Jones rolled out a heavy sophomore LP. Bob Dylan hooked up with The Gap. Britney Spears did half the male population of Nevada. Janet Jackson decided she still mattered and bribed has been of the moment (former BIG DADDY of the moment) Justin Timberlake to make it possible for 13 million comatosed Americans to see her flaccid cow utter flop out in an instant. Who cares if the world's going to hell in an Oldsmobile, that shit was rockin'!

Perhaps most importantly, Christian Scott Stapp contributed the incredibly profound "Relearn Love" to the remarkable various blessed artists comp, "The Passion of the Christ: Original Songs Inspired by the Passion of the Christ: Type The Passion of the Christ One More Time, heathen," not to be confused with the more authentically apocalyptic "The Passion of the Christ: Songs Inspired by the Passion of the Christ," which featured Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen, Elvis Presley and Bob Dylan among others, so us slightly older jaded fucks could scoff at the Christina Aguilera/POD obsessed kewpie dolls and jock lawyers-in-training who shelled out their hard earned bucks for "that other" compilation. We know better than to throw a 14 spot down on some rusty old Nick Cave "goth faggot" and Elvis??? Not even funny. We can get half the age, 4 times the culture (Lauren Hill contributes, thank you) and All of God's Glory as refracted through the vocal nodules of Scott Stapp; so why would we want "Songs" when we can have "Original Songs"? Creed may be no more, it's true, but like A Certain Savior, the foppish Stapp hath ascended from his hell of banal post grunge mimicry to assume his place as The Second Coming of Steve Perry. Oh yeah, I also managed to see some good live shows in 2004. A meager breakdown follows.

5 Sweet Gigs in 04:

1. Brian Wilson (and his big ass band), Nokia Theater in Grand Prarie, Texas mid Nov. A re-emerging of the self, Brian Wilson clapping and grinning. He skips and he does lame dance move (think drunk Russians). The crowd rushed the stage. Actually spent 45 dollars on an ugly t-shirt.
2. Espers, Ridglea Theater upstairs in Ft. Worth, Texas, early Nov. What if they had a concert and nobody came? Play anyway! I live in the black hole of acid folk culture. I don't really know how to explain it, but I think kids in this here seat of the hiccupping twostep nowhere land could really give a fuck about hippie dippy Engrish folk. I think to them Country Joe is about as real a guy as Uncle Sam. For this reason the Incredible String Band didn't play at all. Espers played for myself and 3 other people...and about 30 very sexy emo hotties and their escorts. I'd like to think a seed was planted in their eager encephala this night...but I have my doubts.
3. Six Organs of Admittance, some bar in Denton, Texas, late May. I sat like 8 feet from the man. He played a Gary Higgins song (which is on the new album, Gary is MY DISCOVERY of 04, the guy I didn't ever know of before and probably will never be able to live without ever again. Thank you, Ben!) and a few of his own, so I could just watch and listen real close like as he made his wooden baby sing. It was one of those special-super-fantastic-up-close-and-personal-Six-Organs-gigs. There aren't many ya know! Don't even think he used an amp. I bought us a beer. We talked about Current 93, and I drove home in the misting rain (yeah, that's it).
4. Matt Valentine and Erika Elder, 1906 gallery(?), Aug 2 or so. Spirit music for the blessed few who are listening.
5. Sun City Girls/Rubble/Weird Weeds(who I missed! :-(), Dec 12. Real Punk Rock. Oh yeah, I'm in awe of "Improvika" (Locust) by Sir Richard Bishop. It really should've been on my best of list, darnit(!) since it' just may be the strongest solo avant guitar album released in 04? Affirmative.

25 Birds of Flight in 2004...

Close calls come in the form of Einsturzende Neubauten's "Perpetuum Mobile" (Mute), Brian Wilson's "Smile" (Nonesuch), Espers' "S/T" (Locust), Animal Collective's "Sung Tongs" (Fatcat), Up-Tight's "Five Psychedelic Pieces" (Static), Miminokoto's "3" (Siwa), Oneida's "Secret Wars" (Jagjaguwar) Gravenhurst's "Flashlight Seasons" (Warp) and plenty more. I liked that last Acid Mothers disk too, but like these more:

25. Ths Misunderstood "Lost Acetates" (Ugly Things)
24. Bardo Pond + Tom Carter “4/23/03” (Three Lobed)
23. Fennesz “Venice” (Touch)
22. Cul de Sac/Damo Suzuki “Abhayamudra” (Strange Attractors)
21. LSD-March “Kanashimino Bishoyunen” (HP Cycle)
20. Joanna Newsom “The Milk-Eyed Mender” (Drag City)
19. urDog “Garden of Bones” (Secret Eye)
18. Black Forest/Black Sea “Radiant Symmetry” (Last Visible Dog)
17. Hush Arbors “Since We Have Fallen” (Foxglove)
16. Birchville Cat Motel & Bruce Russell “S/T” (Celebrate Psi Phenomenon)
15. Grimble Grumble “Leaves Leader” (Pehr)
14. David Kilgour “Frozen Orange” (Merge)
13. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds “Abbatoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus” (Mute)
12. The Ivytree “Winged Leaves” (Catsup Plate)
11. Thuja/My Cat is an Alien “From the Earth to the Spheres” Vol. 2 (Very Friendly/Cargo)
10. Ghost "Hypnotic Underworld" (Drag City)
9. Comets on Fire "Blue Cathedral" (Sub Pop)
8. Marissa Nadler “Ballads of Living and Dying” (Eclipse)
7. Kemialliset Ystävät “Alkuhärkä” (Fonal)
6. Charalambides “Joy Shapes” (Kranky)
5. P.G. Six “The Well of Memory” (Amish)
4. Nagisa Ni Te “The Same as a Flower (Jagjaguwar)
3. Devendra Banhart "Rejoicing in the Hands" (Young God)
2. Tower Recordings “The Galaxies Incredibly Sensual Transmission Field of…” (Communion)
1. Nick Castro “Spy in the House of God” (Records of Gauhd)

Reissues:

5. Tie: Pavement “Crooked Rain Crooked Rain” (Matador)/ Guided By Voices “Bee Thousand” (Matador)/ Eno "Here Come the Warm Jets"/"Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy)"/"Another Green World"(Warp), Virgin Prunes “If I Die I Die” (Mute)/ Vashti Bunyan "Just Another Diamond Day" (Dechristina Stair)/ Tom Carter "Monument" (Kranky)/ Hala Strana "Fielding" (Last Visible Dog)
4. Current 93 “Halo” (Durtro/Jnana)
3. Six Organs of Admittance “The Manifestation” (Strange Attractors)
2. Homestead and Wolfe “Our Times” (Anopheles Records)
1. Simon Finn “Pass the Distance” (Durtro)