It's coming down to the last days of Summer, folks! Lamentable I know, though I imagine some in California feel differently. Best to our brothers and sisters out there in the scorching West. Getting as many late afternoon dips in as I can before it gets too cold again, and I've been power-watching True Blood episodes like good drugs -- good V, mayn! Finished season one last night, and being one who's had his share of communions with the occult underworld via some of the ugliest redneck dives in and around North Texas, I've found plenty of congruities between TB and my own experiences. There's nothing quite like the rural south for good storytelling. It's ripe for a little pulpy reimagining. I think Alan Ball and his people get it like I do. Also have extremely high hopes for David Simon's upcoming Treme, which deals specifically with two of my favorite subjects, New Orleans and music.
A few more movies I dug on this Summer:
District 9 - Inventive, brilliantly realized scifi that plays like Franz Kafka rewriting The Fly as Bradburyian social commentary. Love the concept. Love the aliens. Love the shit blowing up all over the place.
Ponyo - Yet another fantastical animated masterpiece from the studio that brought us Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro, Howe's Moving Castle, etc. For me the defining scene in this beauty is the image of a little girl--who until very recently had been a little fish--running as fast as she can atop an undulating bed of ocean waves that are literally alive, propelling her to her destination. Long live Hayao Miyazaki!
Bruno - A fundamentally misunderstood movie. In Borat the butt of the joke is us ugly (but mostly well mannered) Americans. In Bruno the butt of every joke is Bruno himself, a paragon of witless bad-mannered Eurotrash and loud, in your face homosexuality. He's a proud stereotype and in many ways the obvious result of a pop culture overly fixated with itself and precious little else. Borat wants to find "the real America." Bruno wants his own show on the E Network. I LOLed most of the time.
Inglorious Basterds - I don't think it's cool to like QT anymore. I'm pretty sure that liking Eli Roth is a sin punishable by death, but gods help me, Hostel 2 was pretty good! True, the first one sucked, but 2 was a gruesome enough surprise, as was Roth's "characterization" of the baseball bat wielding Bear Jew in this one. Yes, some of these scenes seem endless. Yes, Tarantino is obviously sending a love letter to his adoring French fans who see him as a god on par with Jerry Lewis. Yes, the dialogue is laboriously pitch perfect in tone, tempo and execution. He's still an action master. He's also one of America's best working builders of suspense. The scene in the basement pub is potent. Cool bonus bits to rope in film geeks: the inclusion of Henri-Georges Clouzot's suspense classic Le Corbeau on the theater marquee early on, a movie produced in France by a German production company during the early months of the occupation. There's more to the reference too, but I'll stop there; the inclusion of a Leni Riefenstahl mountain girl movie on the same marquee a little later on. Same deal. Google that shit! It's still too long, Quentin.
Finally made it out to the Wasted Words house in Arlington recently where I got an earful of some fine local sounds coming from multiple parts of the sonic spectrum. Though new to thine ears, both opening acts caught my attention. The first set was a one man electronics/drums progressive explosion that goes by the name Collisi. The next, a guy/gal duo called Wu Fru De Lu Vs. Space Dragon Killah (it actually rolls right off the tongue!), sounded like early Animal Collective gremlins lost in the electronic forest. The plunderphonic industrial ambiance of Welby (Mark Church's solo thing) provided an undulating current of processed drones and obscure samples that had me thinking Negativland With Wound. The tectonic sine-wave manipulations from the always dependable Church of the Apoclypse provided a slow-crawling bass rumble that literally had paintings falling off the walls. Really like the new direction away from the drone doom of earlier releases into pure dark matter.
What about The Mike Gunn? They're probably the most criminally under heard Texas psych punk group in my collection, and that kind of sucks because if you like The Melvins, Butthole Surfers or even Comets on Fire you probably owe it to yourself to at least hear these guys someday. Here's a sweet article from Examiner.com that helps to illuminate just why they kicked much ass on their own (stoned) terms and definitely deserve to be acknowledged as more than just Tom Carter's old band, though they're that too. Almaron is the shit!
Ever heard of AMM? Bet you have. They're possibly the most influential group on what's come to be known as free noise. Keith Rowe is their guitarist. He also performs solo and in collaboration with other like-minded musicians, which makes this epic interview from All About Jazz essential reading for anyone with even a passing interest in experimental improvised sound.
Here's one more interview with another Womblife fave, the incomperable Sir Richard Bishop of Sun City Girls fame and beyond. He goes a few rounds with Mark Prindle, delving deeply into magic and sound (two more of my favorite subjects!). Plenty of great interviews and reviews to be read at Prindle's page. I highly recommend the micro-reviews too for further LOL inducement.
More hippie-syke reviews imminent!
Friday, September 04, 2009
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
This is My Music: Vol 4 (Vol. 4: The Metal Years)
Absu Absu (Candlelight) CD - I've been aware of these old warriors for a few years now, but I must admit shock upon discovering they were actually from Plano, Texas, of all places, a suburb of Dallas that's more known for its (once) high priced country club homes and teen heroin epidemics than real deal furious as fuck occult black metal. Absu started as death metal and devolved to their more blackened state across the '90s. The progression is documented on Tumult's 2CD Diabolic Occult Metal (the band's own designation for its brand of Texas bm), and that there artifact comes highly recommended if so inclined. What else: I've almost seen Absu live twice now, but various fateful anvils have crushed my plans -- scheduling conflicts, bus breakdowns. They're playing a rescheduled hometown gig in late Summer.
Absu is the latest Absu album in a long minute, and if I'm not mistaken, only one original member remains in the band, yet this is genre-defining stuff. Masterful jackhammer riffs propelled by inhuman double bass drum battery, mind-blurring change-ups. More than a hint of the progressive stylings found during weirder passages of recent Enslaved and Leviathan albums can be glimpsed, all deployed with a fury closer to prime Mayhem. Metal with chops that maintains the all important primal metal edge. Hailz, bros!
Current 93 Aleph at Hallucinatory Mountain (Coptic Cat) CD - I don't think anyone's ever considered these Gnostic spell-casters to be metal at all, but if not why do so many metal headz love this band? And why does it seem like all of David Tibet's favorite bands are metal, or at least proto-metal? Rush, Uriah Heep and Black Sabbath on down the line to Sleep/Om and Mayhem. Tibet certainly likes to rock, but he likes to rock weirdly, and Aleph At Hallucinatory Mountain is some of the weirdest rock I've heard this year. With contributions from James Blackshaw, Keith Wood, Mr "Party All Night!" Andrew W.K. and the brilliant Alex Neilson (among many others), Tibet has once again assembled a classy ensemble to tell the story of Aleph at Hallucinatory Mountain. There's much more fuzz than ever heard on any previous Current 93 album, big booming drums, and an overall more pronounced doom vibe while still maintaining noticeable links to past c93 releases. I like this very much, but rest assured, your mileage will vary dependent on your penchant for Tibet's crypto-religious fascinations. Overall, almost as good as Black Ships Ate the Sky. Almost.
Locrian Drenched Lands/ Rhetoric of Surfaces/ Burying the Carnival/ Exhuming the Carnival (At War With False Noise; Bloodlust!; self-re.) CD/CD-R/c-38 -- This amazing Chicago duo brings a new twist to the genre of so called drone metal. Named either for the mythical Greek tribe or the musical mode of the same name, both allusions are appropriate for the grim, hypnotic desolation that Locrian conjures. Their sound is pretty much unparalleled when we get analytical, not that I want to. Locrian manages to explore the crossover between early Popol Vuh, Frip/Eno circa No Pussyfooting and more recent doom/black metal developments (Earth and SunnO))) included) with results that are never less than harrowing and deeply enveloping every step of the way. Of the three releases that found their way into my mailbox recently, the Drenched Lands CD is my favorite with its deft mix or languid slow melodies, minor key isolationist loops and endless feed-backing howls. It's an epic that's brilliantly composed and executed from start to finish, and a vinyl version just dropped! The CD includes a massive bonus track every bit the match of its six predecessors. One of the best long players I've heard in '09.
Rhetoric of Surfaces explores similar terrain on a slightly more dissonant mode. Think Skullflower wandering the murky marshes just below the Castle SunnO))) complete with dark clad minstrels conjuring their mind-bending symphonies of industrial despair. The tracks are longer and grimier in this set -- recorded live for radio -- each offering its own glimpse at echo-drenched tonal voids. Rounding out my dandy box of Locrian madness is the excellent Burying the Carnival/Exhuming the Carnival cassette which results in roughly 38 mins of scorched trance dirge -- tectonic bass hum and squealing angular guitars beneath vocal howls of death on side a, something slightly more exultant on the flip. The guitar work is positively vertiginous and devastating in a way that only amplified feedback can be. The aural equivalent to greyfield-sickness stuck in a lockgroove.
Deathspell Omega Mass Grave Aesthetics (Norma Evangelium Diaboli) CDEP - DO is one of France's best and longest running black metal groups. Mass Grave Aesthetics is one 20 min thrashing monster which reveals every facet of what makes these evil bastards one of the best extreme metal bands on the planet: blistering blastbeat eruptions, cycling mid tempo riff mantras and experimental/noisy ambient interludes being just the beginning. Deathspell enthrall at any speed, in any mode, across this suite-like aural desecration. The end results land somewhere between prime Emperor and Nordvargr and challenge the conventional wisdom of just what black metal can be. Progressive as fuck.
Prurient & Kevin Drumm All are Guests in the House of the Lord CD/Prurient Cocaine Death (both Hospital Productions) both CD - This one's special. I must admit past Prurient releases I've heard have left me shivering in the dark with head splitting. Scabrous static dissonances seemingly the preferred mode of discourse. Of course there are dozens of releases bearing the Prurient name out there, and I've barely begun to scratch the surface. All Are Guests in the House of the Lord suggests closer examination of the catalog is long overdue. It sees the one man harsh drone/noise unit's fury tempered brilliantly by microtonal string bender Kevin Drumm's minimal guitar textures. The end results would sit proudly on the shelf between Wolf Eyes' Human Animal and Sunn's Black One. It's almost metal, philosophically speaking, relaying the kind of soul-destroying thematic concerns often explored in harsher metal these days. Like Wolf Eyes, the vocals owe more to classic hardcore, albeit of the most unconventional variety with effected hues ranging from screaming shrieks to nitrous huffing bass howls, all punctuated by grinding distortion one moment, bottomless microtonal chasms the next. The overall feel is one of great regret, vocal howls begging forgiveness on the eve of unalterable doom.
While visiting the Hospital Productions it dawned on me that Prurient's Cocaine Death (a collection of three long gone cassettes) really is a black metal album. It's more like the ghost of a black metal album if this particular record had been scored by David Lynch and Varg Vikernes using nothing but voice, feedback pedals, recordings of the burning of kindling and the shredding of old newspaper clippings, though it's actually much deeper than all that. I have no idea what's making this hallucinatory drone, thinking some sort of fuzzed up synth concoction much of the way, in conjunction with the incredible vocal performances -- again ranging from underwater gurgling groans to the most tortured naked howls -- and an arsenal of cortex tickling things that go bump, The results are never less than fascinating. Nary a dull moment for folks into the trippier side of noise.
Wolf Eyes Always Wrong (Hospital Productions) CD - When confronted with the reality of Always Wrong, I'm reminded of K.W. Jeter's infamous Dr. Adder, the dystopic nightmare sci-fi to end all dystopic nightmae sci-fis. After this one there was really nowhere left to go in terms of exposing/ridiculing mankind's own seemingly inborn desire to destroy itself, often ironically, through ill conceived attempts at improving some situation or another. Basically Jeter is saying that if we're not careful, in the end we're all going to be Frankenstein's Monsters fallen victim to science/technology and our own selfish/perverse desires. Old story -- mankind shooting itself in the foot. Only now we're shooting up our bodies with silicone, and sucking our innards out completely here in the States while young women in Asian countries willfully go under the knife just so they can have more Caucasian features. All the sudden Wacko Jacko isn't such an isolated freak.
Dr. Adder is the go-to guy for underground medical procedures in this technological nightmare. He's the back alley abortion doctor/junk peddler. He's the discredited plastic surgeon who lost his license years ago but still practices anyway. He's equal parts Frankenstein and Joseph Mengele; only his test subjects are hookers and street trash obsessed with augmentation, self mutilation and perversion. Just like those strange visions Jeter channeled back in '72, Wolf Eyes sees it all with a grim prophetic eye today, and they know that in many ways it's already here.
The first song on Always Wrong is "Cellar." It's possibly the most stunning single encapsulation of what makes Wolf Eyes the unabashed masters of sculpted rhythm noise that they are. Its precise composition of primitive surging (non glitch) electronics, street rat vocal ranting and lurching beats is high drama meets visceral sound art. It's the sound of one of Doc Adder's fucked-up back alley procedures gone horribly wrong. And you can almost dance to it. Sick. The rest of this dreaded beast follows suit with jagged distorted squalls, angular guitar clang and electronic howls crawling through the mix like rabid sewer rats hungry for blood. Ugly. Beautiful.
Bone Awl All Has Red/Night's Middle (Klaxon) cass./7 in. - One bone of contention (no pun) among metal vs hardcore geeks is the question of when did the split occur? As in when did hardcore and metal diverge along the rock timeline and become philosophical opposites, and does it even matter? Anyone who's spent some quality time with Slayer's Show No Mercy or Metallica's Kill Em all can't deny the impact hardcore had on the burgeoning thrash scene of the early '80s. But some time on down the line, after Scum and Reek of Putrefaction, a certain subset of the thrash underground took a sharp 180 degree turn away from the more hopeful aspirations of early h/c. Those pesky Norwegians introduced the idea of the tormented death thrash assault which dared celebrate war and blasphemy! The underground rock world was never the same again, having birthed its own Fallen One, self imposed to endless realms of torment and suicidal rage. Blah, blah, blah.
Enter Bone Awl. This Novato, Cali longhair trio plays grim thrash that's back to hXc basics and to the point, so what you got is minimal garage metal with black screech vocals over wicked first wave hardcore rhythms right out of the early Wire/Black Flag handbook. Pretty incredible when you get right down down to it. And they can do it live and make it fun to quasi slam-dance to in the process. One of the best old school sorts of live shows I've seen this year. Pretty much all their releases sound the same (good). There's an LP that's out of print (bad), but either this 5 song tape or 3 song 7" would make worthy introductions.
SunnO))) Monoliths & Dimensions (Southern Lord) - Took me a few serious appraisals, as it were, but I now know that Monoliths & Dimensions is one of the finest SunnO))) opuses to date. It spans their storied musical catalog in feel and content, yet offers something new too. This is the SunnO))) jazz record! Only not really. It's another SunnO))) record though -- as solid as granite but still somehow progressing and evolving. Attila Cishar delivers some of his most powerful vocal performances to date (anywhere) ranging from guttural spoken word to spectral chant-drone over killer molten riff doom and foundation rattling sub-bass. Perhaps the most incredible thing here is "Big Church (Megszentségteleníthetetlenségeskedéseitekért)" -- thank you, cut & paste! -- which merges the patented sludge doom with dumbfounding choral embellishments and Cishar's own remarkable bass vocal capacity. I'm reminded of an old Mirror track off their Nights LP, banished here to the deepest, darkest of realms. Quite incredible. Dig the sad, sad horns on the eulegic "Alice" (Coltrane I'm thinking - RIP) which is the closest SunnO))) has ever come to that newer, more haunted vibe of recent Earth recordings. It's something indeed. Masterpiece.
Khanate Clean Hands Go Foul (Hydrahead) LP - The people who think Sunn O))) is ridiculously monotonous would no doubt jump out the window after five minutes of Khanate ripping time-space with amps set to 11. Hell even Stephen O'M alley finally got tired of playing this unholy racket and put this beast down for good a couple years back. Khanate lasted longer than most of O'Malley's storied metal/noise ensembles though, so there was clearly something to this strangled take on tortured noise doom meets Fushitusha. No band got to the blackened heart of true doom with such psychotic intensity as these grim thrash/noise miscreants across roughly four albums.
Why even care at all, you say? Well Khanate is fucking TIGHT, man! Their songs may be slower than creeping death, but you will never find a more capable, taut, tension mounting techtonic fury to batter your ears with. So they're gone now. Clean Hands Go Foul is the posthumous swan song, and it's a monster. Present is the strangled low frequency fury of past releases and Alan Dubin's always amazing shrieking vokills, but there's something new too --an almost floating quality in the guitar textures. I'm not saying this is upbeat, but it definitely feels almost suspended in air at times, above what I don't want to know. Something black and boiling over, I'm sure. Odd to think that Khanate will actually be missed by some sick bastards.
Xasthur All Reflections Drained (Hydrahead) 2CD - Concept of art as suffering. No transcendence, no rapture. Xasthur purports to be about nothing more than willfully wallowing in suicidal despair. This is fuckin' stupid but I'm digging it anyway. is a definite improvement over Xasthur's Hydrahead debut, Defective Epitaph, and it's drearier than anything the one man (duo here with help from Striborg!) band has released since Nocturnal Poisoning. Drums are more minimal and punk influenced than on earlier recordings. Some new guy is handling vocals and " ambience." Malefic still screams to the moon in a demonic banshee wail, and his cover art remains some of the most unsettling/unique shit in the racks. You'd think it was all done to death at this point, but X asthur continues to weave a grim spell that's hard to escape. That's kind of a bummer, though, cuz I'm pretty sure this stuff is designed to drive the listener to suicide. I got the version with a bonus CD which I'd recommend grabbing if you come across it but would only call essential to dudes who don corpse paint more than once a month and live in their mothers' basement. \m/
*Author's post-it-note-script thingy: I realize that my definitions of METAL in the above article are rather bold and contrary to what YOU and YOUR DOGMA might consider to be TRUE METAL, but in my world -- NO RULERS, NO RULES -- and if you don't like it, eat turkey, Christian skum!
Absu Absu (Candlelight) CD - I've been aware of these old warriors for a few years now, but I must admit shock upon discovering they were actually from Plano, Texas, of all places, a suburb of Dallas that's more known for its (once) high priced country club homes and teen heroin epidemics than real deal furious as fuck occult black metal. Absu started as death metal and devolved to their more blackened state across the '90s. The progression is documented on Tumult's 2CD Diabolic Occult Metal (the band's own designation for its brand of Texas bm), and that there artifact comes highly recommended if so inclined. What else: I've almost seen Absu live twice now, but various fateful anvils have crushed my plans -- scheduling conflicts, bus breakdowns. They're playing a rescheduled hometown gig in late Summer.
Absu is the latest Absu album in a long minute, and if I'm not mistaken, only one original member remains in the band, yet this is genre-defining stuff. Masterful jackhammer riffs propelled by inhuman double bass drum battery, mind-blurring change-ups. More than a hint of the progressive stylings found during weirder passages of recent Enslaved and Leviathan albums can be glimpsed, all deployed with a fury closer to prime Mayhem. Metal with chops that maintains the all important primal metal edge. Hailz, bros!
Current 93 Aleph at Hallucinatory Mountain (Coptic Cat) CD - I don't think anyone's ever considered these Gnostic spell-casters to be metal at all, but if not why do so many metal headz love this band? And why does it seem like all of David Tibet's favorite bands are metal, or at least proto-metal? Rush, Uriah Heep and Black Sabbath on down the line to Sleep/Om and Mayhem. Tibet certainly likes to rock, but he likes to rock weirdly, and Aleph At Hallucinatory Mountain is some of the weirdest rock I've heard this year. With contributions from James Blackshaw, Keith Wood, Mr "Party All Night!" Andrew W.K. and the brilliant Alex Neilson (among many others), Tibet has once again assembled a classy ensemble to tell the story of Aleph at Hallucinatory Mountain. There's much more fuzz than ever heard on any previous Current 93 album, big booming drums, and an overall more pronounced doom vibe while still maintaining noticeable links to past c93 releases. I like this very much, but rest assured, your mileage will vary dependent on your penchant for Tibet's crypto-religious fascinations. Overall, almost as good as Black Ships Ate the Sky. Almost.
Locrian Drenched Lands/ Rhetoric of Surfaces/ Burying the Carnival/ Exhuming the Carnival (At War With False Noise; Bloodlust!; self-re.) CD/CD-R/c-38 -- This amazing Chicago duo brings a new twist to the genre of so called drone metal. Named either for the mythical Greek tribe or the musical mode of the same name, both allusions are appropriate for the grim, hypnotic desolation that Locrian conjures. Their sound is pretty much unparalleled when we get analytical, not that I want to. Locrian manages to explore the crossover between early Popol Vuh, Frip/Eno circa No Pussyfooting and more recent doom/black metal developments (Earth and SunnO))) included) with results that are never less than harrowing and deeply enveloping every step of the way. Of the three releases that found their way into my mailbox recently, the Drenched Lands CD is my favorite with its deft mix or languid slow melodies, minor key isolationist loops and endless feed-backing howls. It's an epic that's brilliantly composed and executed from start to finish, and a vinyl version just dropped! The CD includes a massive bonus track every bit the match of its six predecessors. One of the best long players I've heard in '09.Rhetoric of Surfaces explores similar terrain on a slightly more dissonant mode. Think Skullflower wandering the murky marshes just below the Castle SunnO))) complete with dark clad minstrels conjuring their mind-bending symphonies of industrial despair. The tracks are longer and grimier in this set -- recorded live for radio -- each offering its own glimpse at echo-drenched tonal voids. Rounding out my dandy box of Locrian madness is the excellent Burying the Carnival/Exhuming the Carnival cassette which results in roughly 38 mins of scorched trance dirge -- tectonic bass hum and squealing angular guitars beneath vocal howls of death on side a, something slightly more exultant on the flip. The guitar work is positively vertiginous and devastating in a way that only amplified feedback can be. The aural equivalent to greyfield-sickness stuck in a lockgroove.
Deathspell Omega Mass Grave Aesthetics (Norma Evangelium Diaboli) CDEP - DO is one of France's best and longest running black metal groups. Mass Grave Aesthetics is one 20 min thrashing monster which reveals every facet of what makes these evil bastards one of the best extreme metal bands on the planet: blistering blastbeat eruptions, cycling mid tempo riff mantras and experimental/noisy ambient interludes being just the beginning. Deathspell enthrall at any speed, in any mode, across this suite-like aural desecration. The end results land somewhere between prime Emperor and Nordvargr and challenge the conventional wisdom of just what black metal can be. Progressive as fuck.
Prurient & Kevin Drumm All are Guests in the House of the Lord CD/Prurient Cocaine Death (both Hospital Productions) both CD - This one's special. I must admit past Prurient releases I've heard have left me shivering in the dark with head splitting. Scabrous static dissonances seemingly the preferred mode of discourse. Of course there are dozens of releases bearing the Prurient name out there, and I've barely begun to scratch the surface. All Are Guests in the House of the Lord suggests closer examination of the catalog is long overdue. It sees the one man harsh drone/noise unit's fury tempered brilliantly by microtonal string bender Kevin Drumm's minimal guitar textures. The end results would sit proudly on the shelf between Wolf Eyes' Human Animal and Sunn's Black One. It's almost metal, philosophically speaking, relaying the kind of soul-destroying thematic concerns often explored in harsher metal these days. Like Wolf Eyes, the vocals owe more to classic hardcore, albeit of the most unconventional variety with effected hues ranging from screaming shrieks to nitrous huffing bass howls, all punctuated by grinding distortion one moment, bottomless microtonal chasms the next. The overall feel is one of great regret, vocal howls begging forgiveness on the eve of unalterable doom.
While visiting the Hospital Productions it dawned on me that Prurient's Cocaine Death (a collection of three long gone cassettes) really is a black metal album. It's more like the ghost of a black metal album if this particular record had been scored by David Lynch and Varg Vikernes using nothing but voice, feedback pedals, recordings of the burning of kindling and the shredding of old newspaper clippings, though it's actually much deeper than all that. I have no idea what's making this hallucinatory drone, thinking some sort of fuzzed up synth concoction much of the way, in conjunction with the incredible vocal performances -- again ranging from underwater gurgling groans to the most tortured naked howls -- and an arsenal of cortex tickling things that go bump, The results are never less than fascinating. Nary a dull moment for folks into the trippier side of noise.Wolf Eyes Always Wrong (Hospital Productions) CD - When confronted with the reality of Always Wrong, I'm reminded of K.W. Jeter's infamous Dr. Adder, the dystopic nightmare sci-fi to end all dystopic nightmae sci-fis. After this one there was really nowhere left to go in terms of exposing/ridiculing mankind's own seemingly inborn desire to destroy itself, often ironically, through ill conceived attempts at improving some situation or another. Basically Jeter is saying that if we're not careful, in the end we're all going to be Frankenstein's Monsters fallen victim to science/technology and our own selfish/perverse desires. Old story -- mankind shooting itself in the foot. Only now we're shooting up our bodies with silicone, and sucking our innards out completely here in the States while young women in Asian countries willfully go under the knife just so they can have more Caucasian features. All the sudden Wacko Jacko isn't such an isolated freak.
Dr. Adder is the go-to guy for underground medical procedures in this technological nightmare. He's the back alley abortion doctor/junk peddler. He's the discredited plastic surgeon who lost his license years ago but still practices anyway. He's equal parts Frankenstein and Joseph Mengele; only his test subjects are hookers and street trash obsessed with augmentation, self mutilation and perversion. Just like those strange visions Jeter channeled back in '72, Wolf Eyes sees it all with a grim prophetic eye today, and they know that in many ways it's already here.
The first song on Always Wrong is "Cellar." It's possibly the most stunning single encapsulation of what makes Wolf Eyes the unabashed masters of sculpted rhythm noise that they are. Its precise composition of primitive surging (non glitch) electronics, street rat vocal ranting and lurching beats is high drama meets visceral sound art. It's the sound of one of Doc Adder's fucked-up back alley procedures gone horribly wrong. And you can almost dance to it. Sick. The rest of this dreaded beast follows suit with jagged distorted squalls, angular guitar clang and electronic howls crawling through the mix like rabid sewer rats hungry for blood. Ugly. Beautiful.
Bone Awl All Has Red/Night's Middle (Klaxon) cass./7 in. - One bone of contention (no pun) among metal vs hardcore geeks is the question of when did the split occur? As in when did hardcore and metal diverge along the rock timeline and become philosophical opposites, and does it even matter? Anyone who's spent some quality time with Slayer's Show No Mercy or Metallica's Kill Em all can't deny the impact hardcore had on the burgeoning thrash scene of the early '80s. But some time on down the line, after Scum and Reek of Putrefaction, a certain subset of the thrash underground took a sharp 180 degree turn away from the more hopeful aspirations of early h/c. Those pesky Norwegians introduced the idea of the tormented death thrash assault which dared celebrate war and blasphemy! The underground rock world was never the same again, having birthed its own Fallen One, self imposed to endless realms of torment and suicidal rage. Blah, blah, blah.
Enter Bone Awl. This Novato, Cali longhair trio plays grim thrash that's back to hXc basics and to the point, so what you got is minimal garage metal with black screech vocals over wicked first wave hardcore rhythms right out of the early Wire/Black Flag handbook. Pretty incredible when you get right down down to it. And they can do it live and make it fun to quasi slam-dance to in the process. One of the best old school sorts of live shows I've seen this year. Pretty much all their releases sound the same (good). There's an LP that's out of print (bad), but either this 5 song tape or 3 song 7" would make worthy introductions.
SunnO))) Monoliths & Dimensions (Southern Lord) - Took me a few serious appraisals, as it were, but I now know that Monoliths & Dimensions is one of the finest SunnO))) opuses to date. It spans their storied musical catalog in feel and content, yet offers something new too. This is the SunnO))) jazz record! Only not really. It's another SunnO))) record though -- as solid as granite but still somehow progressing and evolving. Attila Cishar delivers some of his most powerful vocal performances to date (anywhere) ranging from guttural spoken word to spectral chant-drone over killer molten riff doom and foundation rattling sub-bass. Perhaps the most incredible thing here is "Big Church (Megszentségteleníthetetlenségeskedéseitekért)" -- thank you, cut & paste! -- which merges the patented sludge doom with dumbfounding choral embellishments and Cishar's own remarkable bass vocal capacity. I'm reminded of an old Mirror track off their Nights LP, banished here to the deepest, darkest of realms. Quite incredible. Dig the sad, sad horns on the eulegic "Alice" (Coltrane I'm thinking - RIP) which is the closest SunnO))) has ever come to that newer, more haunted vibe of recent Earth recordings. It's something indeed. Masterpiece.
Khanate Clean Hands Go Foul (Hydrahead) LP - The people who think Sunn O))) is ridiculously monotonous would no doubt jump out the window after five minutes of Khanate ripping time-space with amps set to 11. Hell even Stephen O'
Why even care at all, you say? Well Khanate is fucking TIGHT, man! Their songs may be slower than creeping death, but you will never find a more capable, taut, tension mounting techtonic fury to batter your ears with. So they're gone now. Clean Hands Go Foul is the posthumous swan song, and it's a monster. Present is the strangled low frequency fury of past releases and Alan Dubin's always amazing shrieking vokills, but there's something new too --an almost floating quality in the guitar textures. I'm not saying this is upbeat, but it definitely feels almost suspended in air at times, above what I don't want to know. Something black and boiling over, I'm sure. Odd to think that Khanate will actually be missed by some sick bastards.
Xasthur All Reflections Drained (Hydrahead) 2CD - Concept of art as suffering. No transcendence, no rapture. Xasthur purports to be about nothing more than willfully wallowing in suicidal despair. This is fuckin' stupid but I'm digging it anyway. *Author's post-it-note-script thingy: I realize that my definitions of METAL in the above article are rather bold and contrary to what YOU and YOUR DOGMA might consider to be TRUE METAL, but in my world -- NO RULERS, NO RULES -- and if you don't like it, eat turkey, Christian skum!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Had a grand ol' time this past weekend, first down in Austin for the Castanets/Cross (formerly Warmer Milks; RIP WM!) gig. Got to catch up with some pals and rock obscure Youtube clips all night long while smoking copious amounts of...cigarettes. If you haven't heard Agony Bag, prepare yourselves! And don't just enjoy those tasty visuals, folks. Listen to the song! It rocks!
We then hightailed it over to Houston for the Dead Audio noise fest at Super Happy Fun Land. That place really is pretty incredible. The music was all knob-twiddling, semen-spurting, masturbatory fun. Came home with a big box of tapes 'n' seedeez. More on all that soon...
In this blog I get to talk about three of my current/former favorite bands/artists. And if you know me, you know I'm, like, serious.
First: I'm an old hillbilly hippie from way back. So I'd just like to take a moment to remind folks that it wasn't just the US coastal states that had a monopoly on psychedelic roots perfection in the early '70s. 'Course the use of the word "perfection" throws my whole argument off entirely, as there is no such thing, but if you listen to records like The Byrds' Notorious Byrd Bros or The Band's Music From Big Pink enough times under the right microscope you can trick yourself into thinking that these records are, indeed, perfect. That all the following musical acts in the tiny blip on the cosmic radar that is the history of man will ever only be redundant time wasters at best. That's never really true, but we buy into it all the same. There really was a time I thought I'd never hear another album as imperfectly perfect as Neil Young's Live at the Fillmore East or The Basement Tapes again.
Then I heard this.
Doug Sahm is undeniably one of the very best rockers to ever come from the state of Texas or the US in general. None understood the hypnotic power of a repetitive mind-licking extended jam more thoroughly than Sahm and his guys (whoever they might be on any given night) in the 70s. On this night in 1972 Sir Doug's got some of the coolest cats around lending their skills, including legends like Leon Russell, Jerry and Phil from The Dead and Benny Thurman from the 13th Floor Elevators. The two and a half hour set is comprised mostly of covers from Bill Monroe and Hank to Bo Diddley and The Byrds and so many more. It totally rocks like a motherfucker. I mean this is better than The Basement Tapes. Not kidding. The sound is a little "eh". but it wont be an issue once you get about 2 songs in. This is the holy. Courtesy of The Adios Lounge. Enjoy!
We then hightailed it over to Houston for the Dead Audio noise fest at Super Happy Fun Land. That place really is pretty incredible. The music was all knob-twiddling, semen-spurting, masturbatory fun. Came home with a big box of tapes 'n' seedeez. More on all that soon...
In this blog I get to talk about three of my current/former favorite bands/artists. And if you know me, you know I'm, like, serious.
First: I'm an old hillbilly hippie from way back. So I'd just like to take a moment to remind folks that it wasn't just the US coastal states that had a monopoly on psychedelic roots perfection in the early '70s. 'Course the use of the word "perfection" throws my whole argument off entirely, as there is no such thing, but if you listen to records like The Byrds' Notorious Byrd Bros or The Band's Music From Big Pink enough times under the right microscope you can trick yourself into thinking that these records are, indeed, perfect. That all the following musical acts in the tiny blip on the cosmic radar that is the history of man will ever only be redundant time wasters at best. That's never really true, but we buy into it all the same. There really was a time I thought I'd never hear another album as imperfectly perfect as Neil Young's Live at the Fillmore East or The Basement Tapes again.Then I heard this.
Doug Sahm is undeniably one of the very best rockers to ever come from the state of Texas or the US in general. None understood the hypnotic power of a repetitive mind-licking extended jam more thoroughly than Sahm and his guys (whoever they might be on any given night) in the 70s. On this night in 1972 Sir Doug's got some of the coolest cats around lending their skills, including legends like Leon Russell, Jerry and Phil from The Dead and Benny Thurman from the 13th Floor Elevators. The two and a half hour set is comprised mostly of covers from Bill Monroe and Hank to Bo Diddley and The Byrds and so many more. It totally rocks like a motherfucker. I mean this is better than The Basement Tapes. Not kidding. The sound is a little "eh". but it wont be an issue once you get about 2 songs in. This is the holy. Courtesy of The Adios Lounge. Enjoy!
Man I sure dig me some Yo La Tengo. Back in the '90s I thought they could do no wrong. Then I lost interest some in more recent times but still dig a lot of their stuff and own it too."Here to Fall" from the upcoming Popular Songs sounds like a return to classic form if ever there was one. Sweet sister soul strings! Courtesy of Arthur. Downloadable too!
Addendum: Here's a kick ass video for the same song directed by Jim McSwain; first in a series of five. Love the con trail kaleidascopes! (Double click that sucker to get the full aspect ratio.)
And now we return to the imperfection of the universe. The only real constants seem to be entropy, transformation, a frittering kind of precariousness that our minds like to misconstrue as perfection hanging from a thread. Music, film, paintings -- reflections of the truths that are collapsing and building up in and out of us all the time. This may have something to do with why I think "perfect sounding" music is mostly total shit, or at least fraudulent, which could further speak to why i so profoundly appreciate the music of The Dead C. It seems to embody some of these stoned pseudo-philosophical ruminations of mine. Much of who or what The Dead C is still remains a mystery to most, but this sweet video interview with live bits offers some fascinating clues. Watch and learn, kiddies. From Live TV Eye via Ned R. on Facebook.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Happy Summer-time, folkies. Kindly cast your eyes over here if you have not done so as of yet. I have been strangely obsessed with this video ever since first catching a random glimpse a few days back. It manages to invoke images of Summer complete with splotches of bright lights reflecting off the inner lids. So much glorious cymbal crash! Not sure Madonna ever sounded better, though the selection of this particular song for paying tribute almost seems cosmically fated to yours truly. Set that baby to full-screen, volume to max and blast off. MTV used to be really cool. Now I don't know what it is. No fuckin' idea.
4 Psimple Psaucers for Psummer
Cave Psychic Psummer (Important) - Besides inspiring the title of this here little piece, Chicago's Cave delivers propulsive post Kraut head boogie for those of us who like our disco jams a little less synthetic. Psychic Psummer is a rambunctious blast of galloping beats, pulsing synth, vocal howls and good old fashioned fist-pumping rock 'n' roll that should appeal to fans of Oneida, the Moog, LSD (figuratively speaking, of course!) and blazing hot sun.
White Hills Heads on Fire (Thrill Jockey) - New York's White Hills has been kicking up a dusty racket in the psych underground for a few years now, and I've never been disappointed by any of the uber-limited CD-Rs or tapes I've been lucky enough to hear. In fact I been downright head-smashed and blown away. Then came Thrill Jockey's beautiful reissue of this '07 masterwork, and my skull separated from the rest of my body and went into permanent orbit. You'd be hard pressed to find a more masterful blast of guitar saturated space punk than what's displayed across Heads on Fire from start to finish. Sun kissed head brilliance that lands somewhere between classic Hawkwind and Sabbath but sounds totally in the now and benefits greatly from a rhythm section that kicks mucho ass whether cracking through the earth's crust or gently levitating over its magma sea.
The Sand Pebbles A Thousand Wild Flowers (Double Feature) - Holy shit! I thought these guys were long gone. They released a humdinger of a debut for the esteemed Camera Obscura label some years back and then the followup never came. Never till now, and My Gods, it has been worth the wait! A Thousand Wild Flowers is THE QUINTESSENTIAL SUMMER JAM! You will be hard-pressed to find a more rollicking, vivid, alive, hummable rock tour-de-force in this or any other Summer. Don't know what it is really, but where that first album was the work of young upstarts with a knowing pedigree and capable chops, Wild Flowers is the work of psych punk overlords operating at full capacity. Many a fave are evoked across the span of its 60 plus min expanse: Velvet Underground (always), Television, XTC, Spacemen 3, hell, even The Clean, yet throughout The Sand Pebbles maintain a ridiculously infectious sound that's entirely their own. Features a searing twin guitar front and lyrical content that strikes just the right balance between mind-swept psychedelic oblivian and orgasmic sexual revelry. It's a psych punk bliss out!
Black Sun Ensemble Across The Sea Of Id: The Way To Eden (Camera Obscura) - Funny thing - there's a song on the above Sand Pebbles album that's actually entitled "Black Sun Ensemble." I can only take this as homage, and it's fitting. If ever there was a band devoted to getting cooked in the desert it's Tucson's Black Sun Ensemble. This most recent CD from the long-running psych ensemble finds them returinng all the way back to 1985 and their self released/titled debut in style and tone with lead guitarist Jesus Aceda smearing his acid fried electric leads over a languid folk rock backdrop to brilliant effect. This is BSE in mellow/subdued mood with slight effects hovering over wind-swept dunes of the southwest in the lotus position. A fine soundtrack for watching the sun go down (or disappear entirely).
I'd also like to acknowledge the passing of two icons of my youth. You know which ones, Farrah and Michael. Sky Saxon too, though I wasn't really aware of him when I was a little squirt. I'm not the biggest Kevin Smith fan, but this is kinda sweet.
Now...camera pix of fireworks!
4 Psimple Psaucers for Psummer
Cave Psychic Psummer (Important) - Besides inspiring the title of this here little piece, Chicago's Cave delivers propulsive post Kraut head boogie for those of us who like our disco jams a little less synthetic. Psychic Psummer is a rambunctious blast of galloping beats, pulsing synth, vocal howls and good old fashioned fist-pumping rock 'n' roll that should appeal to fans of Oneida, the Moog, LSD (figuratively speaking, of course!) and blazing hot sun.
White Hills Heads on Fire (Thrill Jockey) - New York's White Hills has been kicking up a dusty racket in the psych underground for a few years now, and I've never been disappointed by any of the uber-limited CD-Rs or tapes I've been lucky enough to hear. In fact I been downright head-smashed and blown away. Then came Thrill Jockey's beautiful reissue of this '07 masterwork, and my skull separated from the rest of my body and went into permanent orbit. You'd be hard pressed to find a more masterful blast of guitar saturated space punk than what's displayed across Heads on Fire from start to finish. Sun kissed head brilliance that lands somewhere between classic Hawkwind and Sabbath but sounds totally in the now and benefits greatly from a rhythm section that kicks mucho ass whether cracking through the earth's crust or gently levitating over its magma sea.
The Sand Pebbles A Thousand Wild Flowers (Double Feature) - Holy shit! I thought these guys were long gone. They released a humdinger of a debut for the esteemed Camera Obscura label some years back and then the followup never came. Never till now, and My Gods, it has been worth the wait! A Thousand Wild Flowers is THE QUINTESSENTIAL SUMMER JAM! You will be hard-pressed to find a more rollicking, vivid, alive, hummable rock tour-de-force in this or any other Summer. Don't know what it is really, but where that first album was the work of young upstarts with a knowing pedigree and capable chops, Wild Flowers is the work of psych punk overlords operating at full capacity. Many a fave are evoked across the span of its 60 plus min expanse: Velvet Underground (always), Television, XTC, Spacemen 3, hell, even The Clean, yet throughout The Sand Pebbles maintain a ridiculously infectious sound that's entirely their own. Features a searing twin guitar front and lyrical content that strikes just the right balance between mind-swept psychedelic oblivian and orgasmic sexual revelry. It's a psych punk bliss out!
Black Sun Ensemble Across The Sea Of Id: The Way To Eden (Camera Obscura) - Funny thing - there's a song on the above Sand Pebbles album that's actually entitled "Black Sun Ensemble." I can only take this as homage, and it's fitting. If ever there was a band devoted to getting cooked in the desert it's Tucson's Black Sun Ensemble. This most recent CD from the long-running psych ensemble finds them returinng all the way back to 1985 and their self released/titled debut in style and tone with lead guitarist Jesus Aceda smearing his acid fried electric leads over a languid folk rock backdrop to brilliant effect. This is BSE in mellow/subdued mood with slight effects hovering over wind-swept dunes of the southwest in the lotus position. A fine soundtrack for watching the sun go down (or disappear entirely).
I'd also like to acknowledge the passing of two icons of my youth. You know which ones, Farrah and Michael. Sky Saxon too, though I wasn't really aware of him when I was a little squirt. I'm not the biggest Kevin Smith fan, but this is kinda sweet.
Now...camera pix of fireworks!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Note to self: Do not get busted for murder in the twilight of life. Mug shot may resemble a popular character from the Lord of the Rings. That being said, "River Deep, Mountain High," baby!
Just a few more tidbits I wanted to pass on: I was honored to finally get to see Will Oldham via his Bonnie Prince Billy guise in a live setting. Pretty sure the last time he came through the DFW area was well over 10 years ago and maybe 16 folks turned out for the event, and I wasn't one of them. This time he was treated like royalty with a packed house at the Granada, an old converted movie theater/performance space complete with balcony. Will seemed impressed and in good spirits. 
Two surreal moments: walking by Oldham and his band sprawled out on a carpet in the parking lot behind The Granada, Oldham dressed in matching orange t-shirt and shorts with pink socks, discussing the merits of the film, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants; realizing that the disheveled barefoot drummer playing with his band is actually Jim White of the Dirty Three, one of the finest impressionistic skin doctors on the live stage today. The set was phenomenal, drawing from 15 years of releases, with heavy emphasis on the recent Guilty (Palace). Worth every bit of the $15 entry fee, though The Howling Hex disappointed a bit with its stripped down three piece folk blues thing. Gimme mo boogie, Neil. Here's a great live clip of the last song (pics and video courtesy of Granada Theater).
Two days later, Portland's Wolves in the Throne Room delivered exactly what was expected at Rubber Gloves -- 90 mins of epic ether-slashing trance metal. Here's one of those bands that's a bit of a one trick pony, sure, but they still somehow manage to be true, to rock hard with an unsettling drone undercurrent that can only be described as metalgaze, which is in fact a real genre, though very few of its practitioners have really captured my imagination the way Wolves have. "A Looming Resonance" from the recent Malevolent Grain EP is one of the finest examples of this "metalgaze" I've come across yet, but it was not played this night, sad to say. Awesome track though. Also got to see Vorvadoss opening, and Embolization, two different bands sharing the same rhythm section. Vorvadoss are all screamy blackened prog thrash (but don't tell 'em I said that!), while Embolization is more a back to basics blackened thrash sort of trio with cool metal songs about bad acid trips. Darkthrone loving potheads will love it.
Oh yeah, Thurston Moore is a black metal fan. What a shock! Not really. Here's an amusing/informative Q&A with Master Moore, courtesy of Decibel Magazine, in which he explains why black metal is better than death metal and ties it all together thematically while namedropping some of my faves of the genre in the process.
And: Cool to see Yeti back in action with #7 of the esteemed mag (which is as thick as a brick) hitting the shelves at all cool record stores everywhere. Interviews/articles on Jim Woodring (his The Frank Book is the best surrealist coffee-table book I've come across), Abner Jay, Jack Rose, Wooden Shjips, the great writer, Rudy Wurlitzer (responsible for the screenplay of one of my favorite movies, Two Lane Blacktop, among many other counter-cultural oddities). The included CD is chock-full of psychedelic 'n' weird punk 'n' blues including Jay, The Great Unwashed, Grouper, Eternal Tapestry and so on. Essential reading and listening here, folks!
And also: Thanks for the promos! Rest assured they will all (mostly) get their proper due here, but right now it's just me that covers it all so bear with and thanks for your patience! More importantly, thanks for the music!
And also also: I love me some Tiny Mix Tapes, with its diverse and informative coverage of alt sights and sounds from all over. Recent interviews with such Womblife approved tone-makers as Grouper, Akron/Family -- love the new one, boys! -- and La Otracina (among others) prove that their hearts and heads are in the right place.
And also also also: Want to give a shout-out here to Ft Worth musician/journalist Ken Shimamoto, who I bonded with a couple months back at the No Idea fest over a passionate Stooges discussion. This was right after Ron Asheton had died. Come to find "what ya know?", Ken is guitarist in a Stooges cover band called Stoogeaphelia and a more Kraut-inspired psych improve unit called Pffft that kicks mucho butt as well. He recently wrote this very fine round up of DFW area weird sounds circa now which delves deeply into a lot of the local musicians and haunts I've been digging on lately. Published in Ft. Worth Weekly. He also writes great articles about other things of interest musically speaking, including the blues, Miles, P-Funk and more on his Myspace blog. Highly recommendable reading!
What else, seen a few more movies recently and have this to report: Up is great, a visual wonder to behold and a sweet ode to friendship and adventure. Gotta love Ed Asner in anything at all. Drag Me to Hell is the most wild thing Sam Raimi and his brother have done since Army of Darkness, though it's closer to the early Evil Dead movies in tone and execution. See it on a big screen so the Dolby sound system can tear your face off! Thumbs up, indeed! And what about this odd little bio-pic, What We Do Is Secret? It's a faithful telling of the story of Darby Crash and his Germs that never bites off more than it can chew. Modest but effecting, and ultimately it just might be one of the best narrative rock movies to come down the chute in a decade. You decide and stuff.
Just a few more tidbits I wanted to pass on: I was honored to finally get to see Will Oldham via his Bonnie Prince Billy guise in a live setting. Pretty sure the last time he came through the DFW area was well over 10 years ago and maybe 16 folks turned out for the event, and I wasn't one of them. This time he was treated like royalty with a packed house at the Granada, an old converted movie theater/performance space complete with balcony. Will seemed impressed and in good spirits. 
Two surreal moments: walking by Oldham and his band sprawled out on a carpet in the parking lot behind The Granada, Oldham dressed in matching orange t-shirt and shorts with pink socks, discussing the merits of the film, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants; realizing that the disheveled barefoot drummer playing with his band is actually Jim White of the Dirty Three, one of the finest impressionistic skin doctors on the live stage today. The set was phenomenal, drawing from 15 years of releases, with heavy emphasis on the recent Guilty (Palace). Worth every bit of the $15 entry fee, though The Howling Hex disappointed a bit with its stripped down three piece folk blues thing. Gimme mo boogie, Neil. Here's a great live clip of the last song (pics and video courtesy of Granada Theater). Two days later, Portland's Wolves in the Throne Room delivered exactly what was expected at Rubber Gloves -- 90 mins of epic ether-slashing trance metal. Here's one of those bands that's a bit of a one trick pony, sure, but they still somehow manage to be true, to rock hard with an unsettling drone undercurrent that can only be described as metalgaze, which is in fact a real genre, though very few of its practitioners have really captured my imagination the way Wolves have. "A Looming Resonance" from the recent Malevolent Grain EP is one of the finest examples of this "metalgaze" I've come across yet, but it was not played this night, sad to say. Awesome track though. Also got to see Vorvadoss opening, and Embolization, two different bands sharing the same rhythm section. Vorvadoss are all screamy blackened prog thrash (but don't tell 'em I said that!), while Embolization is more a back to basics blackened thrash sort of trio with cool metal songs about bad acid trips. Darkthrone loving potheads will love it.
Oh yeah, Thurston Moore is a black metal fan. What a shock! Not really. Here's an amusing/informative Q&A with Master Moore, courtesy of Decibel Magazine, in which he explains why black metal is better than death metal and ties it all together thematically while namedropping some of my faves of the genre in the process.
And: Cool to see Yeti back in action with #7 of the esteemed mag (which is as thick as a brick) hitting the shelves at all cool record stores everywhere. Interviews/articles on Jim Woodring (his The Frank Book is the best surrealist coffee-table book I've come across), Abner Jay, Jack Rose, Wooden Shjips, the great writer, Rudy Wurlitzer (responsible for the screenplay of one of my favorite movies, Two Lane Blacktop, among many other counter-cultural oddities). The included CD is chock-full of psychedelic 'n' weird punk 'n' blues including Jay, The Great Unwashed, Grouper, Eternal Tapestry and so on. Essential reading and listening here, folks!
And also: Thanks for the promos! Rest assured they will all (mostly) get their proper due here, but right now it's just me that covers it all so bear with and thanks for your patience! More importantly, thanks for the music!
And also also: I love me some Tiny Mix Tapes, with its diverse and informative coverage of alt sights and sounds from all over. Recent interviews with such Womblife approved tone-makers as Grouper, Akron/Family -- love the new one, boys! -- and La Otracina (among others) prove that their hearts and heads are in the right place.
And also also also: Want to give a shout-out here to Ft Worth musician/journalist Ken Shimamoto, who I bonded with a couple months back at the No Idea fest over a passionate Stooges discussion. This was right after Ron Asheton had died. Come to find "what ya know?", Ken is guitarist in a Stooges cover band called Stoogeaphelia and a more Kraut-inspired psych improve unit called Pffft that kicks mucho butt as well. He recently wrote this very fine round up of DFW area weird sounds circa now which delves deeply into a lot of the local musicians and haunts I've been digging on lately. Published in Ft. Worth Weekly. He also writes great articles about other things of interest musically speaking, including the blues, Miles, P-Funk and more on his Myspace blog. Highly recommendable reading!What else, seen a few more movies recently and have this to report: Up is great, a visual wonder to behold and a sweet ode to friendship and adventure. Gotta love Ed Asner in anything at all. Drag Me to Hell is the most wild thing Sam Raimi and his brother have done since Army of Darkness, though it's closer to the early Evil Dead movies in tone and execution. See it on a big screen so the Dolby sound system can tear your face off! Thumbs up, indeed! And what about this odd little bio-pic, What We Do Is Secret? It's a faithful telling of the story of Darby Crash and his Germs that never bites off more than it can chew. Modest but effecting, and ultimately it just might be one of the best narrative rock movies to come down the chute in a decade. You decide and stuff.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Just when you thought shit couldn't get any weirder, something like this happens. I love you, Bruno! I'd also like to wish Bret Michaels all the best, but then he has gotten up from harder falls, hasn't he?
Had a groovy old time this past week, catching Sir Richard Bishop and his fabulous Freak of Araby Ensemble out at Rubber Gloves in Denton with help from great local big band guitar groaners Violent Squid and the blistering percussion/guitar/voice onslaught of the mighty Oaxacan, also serving double duty as Bishop's backing band, The Freak of Araby Ensemble! Was also a pleasure to finally meet and drink with one Kelly Burnette, after having conversed with him via email, Facebook and other e-means over the last 5 or 6 years. Two cool clips of a longer piece from later in the Bishop gig:
...and here are a few more clips I've loaded up to the Youtube channel in recent weeks, including...
Metal Rouge at The Firehouse
Anvil Salute also at The Firehouse
The Renderers at End of an Ear/SXSW
Had a groovy old time this past week, catching Sir Richard Bishop and his fabulous Freak of Araby Ensemble out at Rubber Gloves in Denton with help from great local big band guitar groaners Violent Squid and the blistering percussion/guitar/voice onslaught of the mighty Oaxacan, also serving double duty as Bishop's backing band, The Freak of Araby Ensemble! Was also a pleasure to finally meet and drink with one Kelly Burnette, after having conversed with him via email, Facebook and other e-means over the last 5 or 6 years. Two cool clips of a longer piece from later in the Bishop gig:
...and here are a few more clips I've loaded up to the Youtube channel in recent weeks, including...
Metal Rouge at The Firehouse
Anvil Salute also at The Firehouse
The Renderers at End of an Ear/SXSW
Friday, May 29, 2009
Oh yeah, I totally love the new Soundtrack of Our Lives double album, Communion. Get hip! More reviews are coming very, very, very soon. Till then watch this groovy interview with Bardo Pond by the master of acid himself, Brother JT!
To quote a dear friend, Mr. Wall of Sound is goin' down. Phil Spector gets 19 years to life for the second degree murder of actress Lana Clarkson. No one's really shocked at this point, are they?
I recommend all readers of this here blog see the movie Anvil! The Story of Anvil. The movie makes its Dallas premier tonight, complete with a band Q & A and live performance(!) at The Magnolia. I've already seen it and can say it's just as funny and moving as you've heard. Don't dwell on the Spinal Tap comparisons which are not entirely fair, though they do make for a wise marketing scheme. Maybe it's the likeness between Anvil drummer's name, Robb Reiner, and original Spinal Tap director, Rob Reiner, that has so many reviewers subconsciously dubbing Anvil the real life Spinal Tap, or maybe it's the fact that lead guitarist Steve "Lips" Ludlow likes to play his guitar with a giant dildo. Whatever the reason, Reiner is an amazing drummer, and from the moment Lemmy dubs them "a great band" and "good guys" I'm pretty much hooked. These people are real and their story is genuinely moving. Some bits may have been staged, but that's OK -- ever seen an Errol Morris movie? I was more reminded of The Wrestler during a couple of the slower/sadder passages. And yes, I downloaded Metal on Metal as soon as it was over, but I feel like a bastard for not actually paying for a copy from the band's website. Kudos to director Sacha Gervasi for kicking this one out of the coliseum. Added bonus: He's a Hawkwind fan!
** Addendum: Attended the premier tonight, saw the band play and met them. Rawk!
*** Second Addendum: Can't help but wonder if Anvil isn't one one of the bands Fenriz is hailing in the Darkthrone anthem, "Canadian Metal."
Speaking of movies, seen a few lately and looking forward to seeing a few more. Eagerly anticipating Bruno, Drag Me To Hell, Up, The Road (which doesn't open till Autumn) and more, too (Where the Wild Things Are, anyone?). The Star Trek reboot gets my vote, though I think it might have been just a bit over-praised at this point. I'm a Lost fan, too, so I guess I can understand the mega-enthusiasm that greeted its release. Terminator Salvation at least looks great but is ultimately a disappointment, yet still a beautiful heavy metal action juggernaut of a disappointment that should be seen on a big screen. A reluctant robo-mechanical thumbs up.
Trying to decide what to do tonight: Bob Log at Club Dada, or Anvil at the Magnlolia, or noise show (Lychgate/Venison Whirled/Xasthax/etc) at Wasted Words House in Arlington... We shall see.
And finally, as you've probably heard at this point, St. Louis electronic dronegazer Joe Raglani recently had all his gear stolen. This happened just after he played the No Fun Fest in Brooklyn. We're talking thousands of dollars worth of stuff mostly tweaked/assembled by Raglani himself over the years. Irreplaceable. Kvist, his label (which released the excellent Web of Light LP) has set up a donations page at their site to benefit Raglani and musician Steve Hauschildt, who also had his gear stolen. Tomorrow night there's sldo a benefit concert being put on at White Flags, which Raglani himself will be playing (I assume on borrowed equipment):
"For the first four months of this year, local electronic musician Joe Raglani (Kranky Records, 2008 RFT Experimental Musician of the Year) prepared for his first cross-country tour by selling off multiple pieces of equipment and much of his music library, relentlessly producing and recording new material, and scheduling and booking the tour by himself. With the funds, he bought three vintage synths and two new amplifiers, put together some tour-only CDs and tee-shirts, and rented a van, presuming the tour would pay for itself and give him enough money to get home.
In the early morning of Sunday, May 16th, one night after playing a set at the No Fun Fest in Brooklyn, Joe stepped away from the van to get some food, and a professional thief broke in and stole nearly $10K worth of equipment, much of it custom-tweaked, which took over a decade to assemble. This included the laptop onto which Joe had ripped much of the music he'd sold to buy the synths and amps, which were among the gear stolen. Caught in the act while loading the last piece of equipment into his car, the thief tried to run Joe over. When Joe told the cops that he wasn't able to get a license plate number because of this, they laughed.
This Saturday, May 30th, we will attempt to redress this wrong as best we can, in the only appropriate way: by throwing a big party.
DJS SCHEDULED TO APPEAR SO FAR:
GHOST ICE
ASHLEY VULTURE (ATOMIC COWBOY)
D-GRETS (FOUND FUTURE, UPSTAIRS LOUNGE)
RAGLANI (THE VICTIM)
MATT LEACH (DIRTY MONEY, UPSTAIRS LOUNGE)
ONE VISION
JOHN TAMM-BUCKLE
SPINNING EVERYTHING FROM GARAGE ROCK TO MINIMAL SYNTH, NEW WAVE TO NEW JACK SWING, ELECTRO AND DUB TO HAPPY HARDCORE AND IDM.
SCHLAFLY KEGS, CUP INCLUDED IN DOOR FEE; $1 CANS FROM STEVE POWERS' POUR BOX. RAFFLE, DONATED ARTWORK AND MERCH.
MAY 30th, 9PM @ WHITE FLAG PROJECTS . $10-$15 STRONGLY SUGGESTED DONATION (IT'S A BENEFIT, Y'ALL).
spookyinfo@gmail.com FOR MORE INFO, OR TO VOLUNTEER SERVICES, ARTWORK, OR SUGGESTIONS."
I recommend all readers of this here blog see the movie Anvil! The Story of Anvil. The movie makes its Dallas premier tonight, complete with a band Q & A and live performance(!) at The Magnolia. I've already seen it and can say it's just as funny and moving as you've heard. Don't dwell on the Spinal Tap comparisons which are not entirely fair, though they do make for a wise marketing scheme. Maybe it's the likeness between Anvil drummer's name, Robb Reiner, and original Spinal Tap director, Rob Reiner, that has so many reviewers subconsciously dubbing Anvil the real life Spinal Tap, or maybe it's the fact that lead guitarist Steve "Lips" Ludlow likes to play his guitar with a giant dildo. Whatever the reason, Reiner is an amazing drummer, and from the moment Lemmy dubs them "a great band" and "good guys" I'm pretty much hooked. These people are real and their story is genuinely moving. Some bits may have been staged, but that's OK -- ever seen an Errol Morris movie? I was more reminded of The Wrestler during a couple of the slower/sadder passages. And yes, I downloaded Metal on Metal as soon as it was over, but I feel like a bastard for not actually paying for a copy from the band's website. Kudos to director Sacha Gervasi for kicking this one out of the coliseum. Added bonus: He's a Hawkwind fan!
** Addendum: Attended the premier tonight, saw the band play and met them. Rawk!
*** Second Addendum: Can't help but wonder if Anvil isn't one one of the bands Fenriz is hailing in the Darkthrone anthem, "Canadian Metal."
Speaking of movies, seen a few lately and looking forward to seeing a few more. Eagerly anticipating Bruno, Drag Me To Hell, Up, The Road (which doesn't open till Autumn) and more, too (Where the Wild Things Are, anyone?). The Star Trek reboot gets my vote, though I think it might have been just a bit over-praised at this point. I'm a Lost fan, too, so I guess I can understand the mega-enthusiasm that greeted its release. Terminator Salvation at least looks great but is ultimately a disappointment, yet still a beautiful heavy metal action juggernaut of a disappointment that should be seen on a big screen. A reluctant robo-mechanical thumbs up.
Trying to decide what to do tonight: Bob Log at Club Dada, or Anvil at the Magnlolia, or noise show (Lychgate/Venison Whirled/Xasthax/etc) at Wasted Words House in Arlington... We shall see.
And finally, as you've probably heard at this point, St. Louis electronic dronegazer Joe Raglani recently had all his gear stolen. This happened just after he played the No Fun Fest in Brooklyn. We're talking thousands of dollars worth of stuff mostly tweaked/assembled by Raglani himself over the years. Irreplaceable. Kvist, his label (which released the excellent Web of Light LP) has set up a donations page at their site to benefit Raglani and musician Steve Hauschildt, who also had his gear stolen. Tomorrow night there's sldo a benefit concert being put on at White Flags, which Raglani himself will be playing (I assume on borrowed equipment):
"For the first four months of this year, local electronic musician Joe Raglani (Kranky Records, 2008 RFT Experimental Musician of the Year) prepared for his first cross-country tour by selling off multiple pieces of equipment and much of his music library, relentlessly producing and recording new material, and scheduling and booking the tour by himself. With the funds, he bought three vintage synths and two new amplifiers, put together some tour-only CDs and tee-shirts, and rented a van, presuming the tour would pay for itself and give him enough money to get home.
In the early morning of Sunday, May 16th, one night after playing a set at the No Fun Fest in Brooklyn, Joe stepped away from the van to get some food, and a professional thief broke in and stole nearly $10K worth of equipment, much of it custom-tweaked, which took over a decade to assemble. This included the laptop onto which Joe had ripped much of the music he'd sold to buy the synths and amps, which were among the gear stolen. Caught in the act while loading the last piece of equipment into his car, the thief tried to run Joe over. When Joe told the cops that he wasn't able to get a license plate number because of this, they laughed.
This Saturday, May 30th, we will attempt to redress this wrong as best we can, in the only appropriate way: by throwing a big party.
DJS SCHEDULED TO APPEAR SO FAR:
GHOST ICE
ASHLEY VULTURE (ATOMIC COWBOY)
D-GRETS (FOUND FUTURE, UPSTAIRS LOUNGE)
RAGLANI (THE VICTIM)
MATT LEACH (DIRTY MONEY, UPSTAIRS LOUNGE)
ONE VISION
JOHN TAMM-BUCKLE
SPINNING EVERYTHING FROM GARAGE ROCK TO MINIMAL SYNTH, NEW WAVE TO NEW JACK SWING, ELECTRO AND DUB TO HAPPY HARDCORE AND IDM.
SCHLAFLY KEGS, CUP INCLUDED IN DOOR FEE; $1 CANS FROM STEVE POWERS' POUR BOX. RAFFLE, DONATED ARTWORK AND MERCH.
MAY 30th, 9PM @ WHITE FLAG PROJECTS . $10-$15 STRONGLY SUGGESTED DONATION (IT'S A BENEFIT, Y'ALL).
spookyinfo@gmail.com FOR MORE INFO, OR TO VOLUNTEER SERVICES, ARTWORK, OR SUGGESTIONS."
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Big ups to the bros in Yells at Eels and Dave Dove and his trio--including Jason Jackson on sax and Sonia Flores on jazz vocal--for bringing a joyful noise to the Fireside Gallery in Ft. Worth this past Sunday. Really hope shows like this become a regular occurrence in the art space, as it seems to have genuine potential for bringing together "avant-gardistas" throughout the DFWD area triangle for some truly interesting night flights in the coming weeks/months. This was my first time at the space, and the sights and sounds were warm and inviting to say the least. Also hope the above quintet (they played a super-combo-jam after the trio sets) comes together again some day soon. I'll be going back May 15th to see Norman, OK's Anvil Salute and some local yokels.
My Bloody Valentine and Lift to Experience (first gig in 8 years?) tonight at the Palladium Ballroom in Dallas. MBV's North Texas debut, in fact. I promise to bring my special earplugs.
Another cool thing... Dallas Cinemania looks to be on top of their game this Thursday (tomorrow):
Just a reminder about this week's screening, Marlon Brando's directorial debut (and the only film the actor helmed) 1961's ONE-EYED JACKS. We've sourced an IB Tech 35mm print of this baby and we promise it's gonna be special.
When we first started making the short list for films we wanted to show on the big screen, OEJ was at the top. I personally couldn't believe our luck when we landed this one. It's suffered in the public domain due to it's sketchy legal status. Most of the $1.99 DVDs you can find of this are sourced from a decade plus old Paramount laserdisc and they're rather underwhelming to say the least. We've got some indications that a new HD version might be making the rounds soon -- no promises -- but this will probably be the very last time you'll get to see it on the big screen. Come out to the Angelika Film Center and witness history -- Thurs, April 23rd. DJ Mr. Rid kicks things off around 7:30pm. Tickets are $10 at the door.
And a fond farewell to J.G. Ballard, the great science fiction author of such classics as The Drowned World, Crash and Empire of the Sun.
My Bloody Valentine and Lift to Experience (first gig in 8 years?) tonight at the Palladium Ballroom in Dallas. MBV's North Texas debut, in fact. I promise to bring my special earplugs.
Another cool thing... Dallas Cinemania looks to be on top of their game this Thursday (tomorrow):Just a reminder about this week's screening, Marlon Brando's directorial debut (and the only film the actor helmed) 1961's ONE-EYED JACKS. We've sourced an IB Tech 35mm print of this baby and we promise it's gonna be special.
When we first started making the short list for films we wanted to show on the big screen, OEJ was at the top. I personally couldn't believe our luck when we landed this one. It's suffered in the public domain due to it's sketchy legal status. Most of the $1.99 DVDs you can find of this are sourced from a decade plus old Paramount laserdisc and they're rather underwhelming to say the least. We've got some indications that a new HD version might be making the rounds soon -- no promises -- but this will probably be the very last time you'll get to see it on the big screen. Come out to the Angelika Film Center and witness history -- Thurs, April 23rd. DJ Mr. Rid kicks things off around 7:30pm. Tickets are $10 at the door.
And a fond farewell to J.G. Ballard, the great science fiction author of such classics as The Drowned World, Crash and Empire of the Sun.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Well I had hoped to post something about my SXSW trip this year, but never really found the time to reflect in depth. Been a busy two weeks. In brief: Endless Boogie lived up to their name (the singer/guitarist sported the coolest hairdo of the fest with a long straight black mop and short cropped goatee) and brought the epic trance boogie. Outrageous Cherry shone brilliantly at the midnight hour with their bubble-fuzz assault. The Dicks jerked hard at the Austin Music Hall. Warmer Milks screamed black fury at the blurry dark night at the Music Gymnasium with a five synth death dirge. The Renderers unleashed their charred noise twang on an unassuming patio of early-evening microbrew sippers at the Spiderhouse (and twice more at various other locales), and The Wovenhand exorcised the demons at The Soho with their hypnotic mix of post punk crash and Pentacostal wrath. A truly massive trio. And always happy to see Naked on the Vague uncork their industrial noise rock grime.
And there was more... the avant drone skree of Zanzibar Snails, the hillbilly stoner folk of Phospherescent, the dark country pop of Handsome Family (like the Renderers, all their songs are either about deep holes or dark caves) and the throbbing psych punk metal blast of Earthless with J. Mascis on second guitar... to name but a few.
All in all, SXSW '09 was one more panorama of shifting sights and sounds, but it was time spent with friends, including The Renderers and their violinist John White (he released a great CD on Last Visible Dog while back entitled Mogwash and performs regularly with Alastair Galbraith) and Jason from Bardo Pond, Tom Lax (he owns/runs Siltbreeze Records), his buddy PJ, and Mikey, Shawn, Mike again, etc that proved most beneficial. Tom Lax is a master chef and a really nice guy. He spun the new Blues Control and Tybek records upcoming on Siltbreeze, and both sounds like real beauts--thanks for the spins! And the stories. There were more great sets too, and a car crash in a Chevy Malibu filled with road-weary New Zealanders and their equipment, but thankfully no one was hurt and I guess I was about done with that car anyway. Later that night walking the streets of SXSW Day Four with John White provided more surrealist gems. At one point we noticed forty feet of sidewalk on 6th street that was covered with a brilliant arrangement of discarded paper plates that created a kind of polka dot flurry of white saucers like something out of a pop-art gallery. And we made it into Emo's just in time to see Daniel Johnston play "True Love Will You Find In The End." It's official, John, you've seen Daniel Johnston live. Also had a ball drinking whiskey and filling up John's ipod with all my weird rawk suggestions. He loves Daniel Higgs. Once again thanks to Nari, Womblife's guardian angel.
What else... I was lucky enough just this past weekend to see L. Cohen play his first (and possibly last) Dallas concert at the Nokia Theater in Grand Prairie, where through a miraculous series of events my companion and I found ourselves trading in nosebleed seats for 2nd row center right and the most perfect vantage point I've ever had at any such live spectacle. We were treated to three hours and six encores that drew from 40 years of recorded music and well beyond, complete with poetry recitations. Cohen is simply one of the most gracious, precise showmen I have ever witnessed on stage or in any other place. His world class 9 piece backing band, those beautiful Webb sisters, and all those hoots and applause--so uncustummary to my typical showgoing experiences--left a taste of the holy in my throat and a sense that anything is possible if we work hard enough and never stop believing in ourselves, and even something greater.
epic setlist
ticket and an article clipped from the Ft. Worth Star Telegram
The very next day I made it over to The Granada to catch Robyn Hitchcock and his new band The Venus 3, featuring Peter Buck on guitar, Scott McCaughey on bass and Bill Reiflin on drums. Hitch was fresh off his appearance in Jonathan Demme's Rachel Getting Married (which is actually really good) and the third release with this lineup, Goodbye Oslo (Yep Roc), and in peak form throughout with his trio of alt rock heavies taking flight in some of the finest post Byrds/Big Star guitar pop I've seen on a stage since Big Star themselves when I caught them on New Years in New Orleans back in Y2K. Who knows where the time goes?
And there was more... the avant drone skree of Zanzibar Snails, the hillbilly stoner folk of Phospherescent, the dark country pop of Handsome Family (like the Renderers, all their songs are either about deep holes or dark caves) and the throbbing psych punk metal blast of Earthless with J. Mascis on second guitar... to name but a few.
All in all, SXSW '09 was one more panorama of shifting sights and sounds, but it was time spent with friends, including The Renderers and their violinist John White (he released a great CD on Last Visible Dog while back entitled Mogwash and performs regularly with Alastair Galbraith) and Jason from Bardo Pond, Tom Lax (he owns/runs Siltbreeze Records), his buddy PJ, and Mikey, Shawn, Mike again, etc that proved most beneficial. Tom Lax is a master chef and a really nice guy. He spun the new Blues Control and Tybek records upcoming on Siltbreeze, and both sounds like real beauts--thanks for the spins! And the stories. There were more great sets too, and a car crash in a Chevy Malibu filled with road-weary New Zealanders and their equipment, but thankfully no one was hurt and I guess I was about done with that car anyway. Later that night walking the streets of SXSW Day Four with John White provided more surrealist gems. At one point we noticed forty feet of sidewalk on 6th street that was covered with a brilliant arrangement of discarded paper plates that created a kind of polka dot flurry of white saucers like something out of a pop-art gallery. And we made it into Emo's just in time to see Daniel Johnston play "True Love Will You Find In The End." It's official, John, you've seen Daniel Johnston live. Also had a ball drinking whiskey and filling up John's ipod with all my weird rawk suggestions. He loves Daniel Higgs. Once again thanks to Nari, Womblife's guardian angel.
What else... I was lucky enough just this past weekend to see L. Cohen play his first (and possibly last) Dallas concert at the Nokia Theater in Grand Prairie, where through a miraculous series of events my companion and I found ourselves trading in nosebleed seats for 2nd row center right and the most perfect vantage point I've ever had at any such live spectacle. We were treated to three hours and six encores that drew from 40 years of recorded music and well beyond, complete with poetry recitations. Cohen is simply one of the most gracious, precise showmen I have ever witnessed on stage or in any other place. His world class 9 piece backing band, those beautiful Webb sisters, and all those hoots and applause--so uncustummary to my typical showgoing experiences--left a taste of the holy in my throat and a sense that anything is possible if we work hard enough and never stop believing in ourselves, and even something greater.
epic setlist
ticket and an article clipped from the Ft. Worth Star Telegram
The very next day I made it over to The Granada to catch Robyn Hitchcock and his new band The Venus 3, featuring Peter Buck on guitar, Scott McCaughey on bass and Bill Reiflin on drums. Hitch was fresh off his appearance in Jonathan Demme's Rachel Getting Married (which is actually really good) and the third release with this lineup, Goodbye Oslo (Yep Roc), and in peak form throughout with his trio of alt rock heavies taking flight in some of the finest post Byrds/Big Star guitar pop I've seen on a stage since Big Star themselves when I caught them on New Years in New Orleans back in Y2K. Who knows where the time goes?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
This is My Music: Vol 3 (Nashville Skyline)
Donovan Quinn and the 13th Month Donovan Quinn and the 13th Month (Soft Abuse) CD - Mr. Quinn jangled his way into my heart as one half of the Sky Green Leopards and perhaps more potently as the soul contributor to Verdure, whose The Telescope Dreampatterns (Camera Obscura) remains a minor late night classic 'round these parts in terms of stone folk pop transcendence. With his new band the 13th Month the psych touches are not as abundant, but the Dylan love is in full form across a dusty shuffling pop backdrop that should appeal to fans of the aforementioned West Coast folk-popsters, Wooden Wand, MV/EE and the like.
Current 93 Birth Canal Blues (Durtro/Jnana) CD - Here's a fine teaser EP to prepare us for the imminent arrival of Aleph at Hallucinatory Mountain, which is guaranteed to kick off another onslaught of patripassionist prophetic folk doom. These four songs land somewhere between Soft Black Stars and Black Ships... and genuinely do the trick with strong melodies, cryptic lyrics, stark musicianship, blistering vocal performances from David and highly psychedelic production. Works for me. Scary at high volumes. None of their Apocalypse folk followers even come close.
Pantaleimon Tall Trees (Abaton) - Really meant to write something about this short CD-R long ago, so better late than never. This time Andrea Degans' support comes in the form of Irish folk droners Plinth for four short songs of minimal chamber folk splendor in just under 11 minutes of levitated pop bliss showcasing Degan's ethereal warm voice to perfection. This is a fitting gem from the always unique Abaton Book Company label and comes with the highest recommendation, in fact. Let the healing begin.
D. Charles and the Helix After Hours (Black Dirt) LP - Had a good ol' time groovin' and grinnin' along to these country psych folksters when I saw them open for Jack Rose in St. Louis last year. D. Charles looks sorta like Doug Sahm and even kinda sounds like him too, though he claimed only to have just discovered Sir Doug when I mentioned the similarity. For fans of Townes, The Band, Flying Burritos/Byrds and outlaw country of every stripe. This was definitely the discovery of the year in '08 for yours truly. After Hours' ramshackle analog production is as much an asset as Charles' otherworldly "how ya doin'?" sunburnt vocals washing over the troubled mind like a warm Summer breeze. Laid back and (mostly) stress free. Apparently this is sold out at the source, but something tells me it's still out there in them racks if ya do the digging.
Daniel Higgs Metempsychotic Melodies (Holy Mountain) CD - This is the followup to the masterful Ancestral Songs offering up four more epic psych folk devotionals that draw from diverse/vast worlds of spiritual/artistic influence to probe the depths of the human heart/soul in word/sound. Daniel Higgs is a national treasure, and may not be for everyone, but fans of Jack Rose, Six Organs of Admittance and Paul Metzger should be aware the Lungfish guru's contributions to noise raga illumination. Dark beauty for the ravaged children of God.
Roy Harper Stormcock (Science Friction) CD - Stunning reissue of one of Harper's very best albums. If you love Nick Drake, John Martyn (RIP), Led Zeppelin and other stalwarts of the Brit psych folk scene, you absolutely NEED this album. Trance-inducing melodies, soul-stirring vocals and sterling folk blues guitar (by Jimmy Page!) that stands the test of time and infinity beyond -- via Harper's own Science Friction label.
Damon & Naomi More Sad Hits (20-20-20) CD - Thanks so much to Damon & Naomi for sending over a promo of the album that started it all way back in 1991 after Dean Wareham unceremoniously sacked the beloved rhythm duo from Galaxie 500. Can't really tell you how well this has aged since its release in 1992 other than I can now safely say it's a little masterpiece of stoned psych folk pop that covers all the bases from chiming acoustic guitars to lidded drone folk and the little cul de sacs in between. Like the above Harper album, comes in a splendid heavy album style package. Definitely one of Damon & Naomi's very best, not to mention a cornerstone of the early '90s American psych underground.
Crow Tongue Ghost Eye Seeker (Dark Holler) CD - Timothy Renner's music has always been as much about healing as seeking, and Ghost Eye Seeker is a broken soul healer if ever there was one. This is mountain music for the third eye, deep space meditations for the the darkest of nights, mystical tones that conjure a new language of light. Just as if you go back far enough in time you find that country and blues and jazz are ultimately the same thing, this feels like a progression in the other direction through myriad stylistic shifts and psychedelic eons to arrive at a place where all is one and it echoes. Another brilliant dispatch from Pennsylvania's Beating Heart and among the very best 2008 had to offer.
Jesse Sykes and The Sweet Hereafter Like, Love, Lust, and The Open Halls of the Soul (Southern Lord) 2LP - What a title, huh? This slice of solemn folk pop beauty lives up to its implied promise. Jesse Sykes was last heard (by me) singing the lead vocal to the magnificent "Sinking Bell" on the Boris/Sunn o))) collaboration, and here we get her complete with full band backing playing a kind of lazy almost country pop that sneaks up on the listener and holds tight. Sykes has a haunted whisper of a croon that's plaintive and accessible, but also emanates a slightly warped sadness all its own. Somewhere between Mazzy Star, classic Band, Sister Lovers and heaven and hell resides Like, Love, Lust, and the Open Halls of the Soul.
Wovenhand Ten Stones (Sounds Familyre) CD - Fourth solo effort from David Eugene Edwards (of 16 Horsepower) is a monster of dark, reverberating psychedelic blues and rapturous mountain folk that ultimately comes together into a surging, unique kind of folk rock that's at once tribalist, fierce, hypnotic and otherworldly. Edwards is definitely one of America's most unique "roots rockers" out there. Expecting great things from their live set at SXSW.
Alastair Galbraith Orb (Next Best Way) CD - It's always a good thing when Master Galbraith sends us further musical dispatches from his home in Dunedin, New Zealand. If I have my facts straight Orb is the first solo album from Galbraith since his masterful primitive drone folk opus Cry (Emperor Jones) back in 2000. Otherwise he can most recently be heard in trio with Richard Youngs and Alex Neilson on Belsayer Time (Time Lag), every bit the beauty such a tonal mindmeld would suggest. But when it comes down to it, I fell in love with the music of Galbraith because of the kind of songs found on Orb -- tiny snippets of minimal drone blasts, haunted lo-fi folk confections and weird rock segues all dressed up with tasteful psych effects and odd found sounds anchored at their core by Alastair's unmistakable ghost voice. No one sounds like this guy, but if you go back far enough you can find similar tonal kinship in the recordings of Syd Barrett, Skip Spence, Simon Finn and Nico among a few others (John Cale!). You get it. As essential as it gets.
Bonnie "Prince" Billy Lie Down in the Light (Palace/Drag City) CD - I should fess up here to a bit of lyin' down on the job. I've been a fan of Will Oldham basically since the first moments I heard him way back in '93 or whenever I chanced upon that weird opus, Palace Brothers' There is No-one What Will Take Care of You the first time, and like the best of friends, he's gotten older with me, and grown well beyond me at this point. I'm so behind that this is not even his most recent release. That would be Beware, which just hit the shelves this month. That's a different story, as is his recent collaboration with Meg Baird and Greg Weeks (both Espers) which hatched in '07. Basically, Lie Down in the Light just might be the most consistently thrilling, life affirming, folk pop masterstroke to bear the Bonnie "Prince" stamp since the landmark I See a Darkness. The melodies, the musicianship, the harmonies, Oldham's glorious voice singing lyrics of love, family, sacrifice and heartbreak join together to weave a quilt of undeniable humanism which just happens to be some of the finest American roots music of this or any other decade.
Warmer Milks Soft Walks (Animal Disguise) CD - One of the sweeter surprises of the last year can be heard among the the stoned roots pop vibes of Soft Walks. Warmer Milks the art slop grunge band takes a breather so that Warmer Milks the vintage/cracked roots ensemble can emerge. The wandering fingerpicking strings of opener "Untitled" give way to the urban-escapism of "Wild Spring." "The Friends" with its drunk harmonies and slacker country blues rhythm seems heavily indebted to psych blues Stones and Neil Young loungin' 'n' scroungin' on the beach. The equally majestic "A Bulb in the Dark" ups the country ante and approximates stoned country pop bliss ala The Silver Jews or Pavement on the "Range Life," and concluding this run of ragged anthems, the epic "Patio Blues," with a rousing sing-along chorus climax that will have you joining in every time. Awesome vintage production by Paul Oldham of Speed to Roam and the legendary Oldham clan.
Donovan Quinn and the 13th Month Donovan Quinn and the 13th Month (Soft Abuse) CD - Mr. Quinn jangled his way into my heart as one half of the Sky Green Leopards and perhaps more potently as the soul contributor to Verdure, whose The Telescope Dreampatterns (Camera Obscura) remains a minor late night classic 'round these parts in terms of stone folk pop transcendence. With his new band the 13th Month the psych touches are not as abundant, but the Dylan love is in full form across a dusty shuffling pop backdrop that should appeal to fans of the aforementioned West Coast folk-popsters, Wooden Wand, MV/EE and the like.
Current 93 Birth Canal Blues (Durtro/Jnana) CD - Here's a fine teaser EP to prepare us for the imminent arrival of Aleph at Hallucinatory Mountain, which is guaranteed to kick off another onslaught of patripassionist prophetic folk doom. These four songs land somewhere between Soft Black Stars and Black Ships... and genuinely do the trick with strong melodies, cryptic lyrics, stark musicianship, blistering vocal performances from David and highly psychedelic production. Works for me. Scary at high volumes. None of their Apocalypse folk followers even come close.
Pantaleimon Tall Trees (Abaton) - Really meant to write something about this short CD-R long ago, so better late than never. This time Andrea Degans' support comes in the form of Irish folk droners Plinth for four short songs of minimal chamber folk splendor in just under 11 minutes of levitated pop bliss showcasing Degan's ethereal warm voice to perfection. This is a fitting gem from the always unique Abaton Book Company label and comes with the highest recommendation, in fact. Let the healing begin.
D. Charles and the Helix After Hours (Black Dirt) LP - Had a good ol' time groovin' and grinnin' along to these country psych folksters when I saw them open for Jack Rose in St. Louis last year. D. Charles looks sorta like Doug Sahm and even kinda sounds like him too, though he claimed only to have just discovered Sir Doug when I mentioned the similarity. For fans of Townes, The Band, Flying Burritos/Byrds and outlaw country of every stripe. This was definitely the discovery of the year in '08 for yours truly. After Hours' ramshackle analog production is as much an asset as Charles' otherworldly "how ya doin'?" sunburnt vocals washing over the troubled mind like a warm Summer breeze. Laid back and (mostly) stress free. Apparently this is sold out at the source, but something tells me it's still out there in them racks if ya do the digging.
Daniel Higgs Metempsychotic Melodies (Holy Mountain) CD - This is the followup to the masterful Ancestral Songs offering up four more epic psych folk devotionals that draw from diverse/vast worlds of spiritual/artistic influence to probe the depths of the human heart/soul in word/sound. Daniel Higgs is a national treasure, and may not be for everyone, but fans of Jack Rose, Six Organs of Admittance and Paul Metzger should be aware the Lungfish guru's contributions to noise raga illumination. Dark beauty for the ravaged children of God.
Roy Harper Stormcock (Science Friction) CD - Stunning reissue of one of Harper's very best albums. If you love Nick Drake, John Martyn (RIP), Led Zeppelin and other stalwarts of the Brit psych folk scene, you absolutely NEED this album. Trance-inducing melodies, soul-stirring vocals and sterling folk blues guitar (by Jimmy Page!) that stands the test of time and infinity beyond -- via Harper's own Science Friction label.
Damon & Naomi More Sad Hits (20-20-20) CD - Thanks so much to Damon & Naomi for sending over a promo of the album that started it all way back in 1991 after Dean Wareham unceremoniously sacked the beloved rhythm duo from Galaxie 500. Can't really tell you how well this has aged since its release in 1992 other than I can now safely say it's a little masterpiece of stoned psych folk pop that covers all the bases from chiming acoustic guitars to lidded drone folk and the little cul de sacs in between. Like the above Harper album, comes in a splendid heavy album style package. Definitely one of Damon & Naomi's very best, not to mention a cornerstone of the early '90s American psych underground.
Crow Tongue Ghost Eye Seeker (Dark Holler) CD - Timothy Renner's music has always been as much about healing as seeking, and Ghost Eye Seeker is a broken soul healer if ever there was one. This is mountain music for the third eye, deep space meditations for the the darkest of nights, mystical tones that conjure a new language of light. Just as if you go back far enough in time you find that country and blues and jazz are ultimately the same thing, this feels like a progression in the other direction through myriad stylistic shifts and psychedelic eons to arrive at a place where all is one and it echoes. Another brilliant dispatch from Pennsylvania's Beating Heart and among the very best 2008 had to offer.
Jesse Sykes and The Sweet Hereafter Like, Love, Lust, and The Open Halls of the Soul (Southern Lord) 2LP - What a title, huh? This slice of solemn folk pop beauty lives up to its implied promise. Jesse Sykes was last heard (by me) singing the lead vocal to the magnificent "Sinking Bell" on the Boris/Sunn o))) collaboration, and here we get her complete with full band backing playing a kind of lazy almost country pop that sneaks up on the listener and holds tight. Sykes has a haunted whisper of a croon that's plaintive and accessible, but also emanates a slightly warped sadness all its own. Somewhere between Mazzy Star, classic Band, Sister Lovers and heaven and hell resides Like, Love, Lust, and the Open Halls of the Soul.
Wovenhand Ten Stones (Sounds Familyre) CD - Fourth solo effort from David Eugene Edwards (of 16 Horsepower) is a monster of dark, reverberating psychedelic blues and rapturous mountain folk that ultimately comes together into a surging, unique kind of folk rock that's at once tribalist, fierce, hypnotic and otherworldly. Edwards is definitely one of America's most unique "roots rockers" out there. Expecting great things from their live set at SXSW.
Alastair Galbraith Orb (Next Best Way) CD - It's always a good thing when Master Galbraith sends us further musical dispatches from his home in Dunedin, New Zealand. If I have my facts straight Orb is the first solo album from Galbraith since his masterful primitive drone folk opus Cry (Emperor Jones) back in 2000. Otherwise he can most recently be heard in trio with Richard Youngs and Alex Neilson on Belsayer Time (Time Lag), every bit the beauty such a tonal mindmeld would suggest. But when it comes down to it, I fell in love with the music of Galbraith because of the kind of songs found on Orb -- tiny snippets of minimal drone blasts, haunted lo-fi folk confections and weird rock segues all dressed up with tasteful psych effects and odd found sounds anchored at their core by Alastair's unmistakable ghost voice. No one sounds like this guy, but if you go back far enough you can find similar tonal kinship in the recordings of Syd Barrett, Skip Spence, Simon Finn and Nico among a few others (John Cale!). You get it. As essential as it gets.
Bonnie "Prince" Billy Lie Down in the Light (Palace/Drag City) CD - I should fess up here to a bit of lyin' down on the job. I've been a fan of Will Oldham basically since the first moments I heard him way back in '93 or whenever I chanced upon that weird opus, Palace Brothers' There is No-one What Will Take Care of You the first time, and like the best of friends, he's gotten older with me, and grown well beyond me at this point. I'm so behind that this is not even his most recent release. That would be Beware, which just hit the shelves this month. That's a different story, as is his recent collaboration with Meg Baird and Greg Weeks (both Espers) which hatched in '07. Basically, Lie Down in the Light just might be the most consistently thrilling, life affirming, folk pop masterstroke to bear the Bonnie "Prince" stamp since the landmark I See a Darkness. The melodies, the musicianship, the harmonies, Oldham's glorious voice singing lyrics of love, family, sacrifice and heartbreak join together to weave a quilt of undeniable humanism which just happens to be some of the finest American roots music of this or any other decade.
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