Had a really nice evening this past Thursday hanging out with the one and only, Mike Tamburo. He's an interesting guy (and YES, HE DOES EXIST!) with a lot of heart and soul, me thinks. He knows how to tell a good yarn, too. I had nothing to do with bringing him to the area, because last time I got even remotely involved in setting up a show, disaster's-ville: population me. His show was in Denton at a little coffee house called Art Six with an outside deck area. There were four of us that watched him play (with the occasional smoker dropping by for an abbreviated listen). He'd occasionally build up loops via acoustic guitar and dulcimer and played a selection that spanned his fingerpicking career and drew largely from the excellent solo debut, "Beating the Rewound Son" (Music Fellowship). He also played a solo rendition of a piece from his new duo, The Amazing Trapeze. I was struck by his control of dynamics, on top of his dexterous fretwork, and his ability to keep each piece flowing, even as he shuffled through his bag looking for something else to throw on top. I was especially impressed when he started playing dulcimer with mallets and created a beautiful shimmer of tones that actually resembled a gamelan orchestra. No shit!

Here's a pic of Mr. Tamburo doin' his thing on the leafy deck...


We hung out a while and talked about all sorts of things, including fingerpickers, the greatness of Jack Rose, spirit and humility. He gave me a fat stack of releases on his own New American Folk Hero CD-R label (including his last copy of the Kennan Lawler 3"--thank you, Mike!) as gifts, a couple Meisha albums, and the latest (and possibly greatest) Arco Flute Foundation Live CD on Music Fellowship. I gave him a CD by The Lost Domain in an effort to repay the love, but more than anything what Mike gave me was a warm night of kinship. I feel lucky to call him a friend.

He's going to be on the road for about another month. See here for remaining dates, mainly East Coast. I recorded 80 mins of the 90 min gig. I told Mike it was his storyteller set, because each song came with exposition. All in all, a good night.

"Feels" (Fat Cat), this new Animal Collective album is doin' it for me. Like a warm tongue lashing the bung--billowy and light as air, but still bubbling over with enough frothy effervescence to catapult me way up into the crystal palace in the sky. No one else rips-off--or builds on, for that matter--ideas first pioneered by the Beach Boys ("feels" are what Brian Wilson calls isolated symphonic scores) and Eno as inventively.

A bittersweet old style songwriter's paradise gets mined in Franklin's Mint. "Gold" (Sunburned) is comprised of heart-tugging rootsy folk pop that harkens back to early 70s Dylan, the Band, Neil Young, Emmylou and more inspirational folk-rocker types with a warm analog glow. It's a Sunburned Hand of the Man sanctioned roadtrip, with rough and tumble contributions from a bundle of folks who usually play a sloppier, more avant groove, all backing singer/guitarist Phil Franklin. His dusted, stream of conscious lyrics are branded with a sense of weariness and humanism that would be the only logical outcome for any civilized creature living in America in the year 2005. Beautiful handmade silkscreen package folds into a 3D pyramid. Might be hard to find, but so is peace of mind. Limited to 1000; got mine from Fusetron.

Further down the rabbit hole we fall with The Iron Kite, spiraling and divebombing out of control through a red tinted underworld (and I don't mean hell, but it's close, baby!). This Austin "free noise" groop cranks a mighty rusted carousel round and round on "No Eyebrows" (Twilight Flight Sound), writhing in the clattery free metallic rush that builds in friction to a throbbing industrial/ krautrock surge and more lumbering heavy jams. Nothing prepares the listener for the sheer power and forward momentum of this single track live recording. Lots of acid fuzz and clattery percussion give way to metronomic thumping and back again with tribal howls and whoops resounding over top. Spontaneous, beautiful ROCK that sort of answers the question, "what if the Red Krayola's "Free Form Freakout" actually went somewhere?" No-Neckers and Sunburned Handies, rejoice!

Another loud ass Fuck Yeah! comes along with the reissue of Kemialliset Ystävät's "Kellari Juniversumi," (Fonal CD/ Beta-Lactam LP). Hailed upon its release in 2002 as a masterpiece, I'm prone to fall into line with this one; possibly the most perfectly realized trip through Chemical Land I've come across. KY (gotta love those initials) is without question one of the most fascinating and unique bands around today, and this seems to capture them in an ideal state. Possibly a transition album based on what I've heard till now, splitting things roughly between the kind of haunted free spirit blues they've conjured of late and a clanking (almost) art pop/folk. If Yahaweh was an early industrial band from Finland, they might have come up with something this dementedly beautiful, but then that's not even fair. This is a dense, ethereal trek through the warped sonic hinterlands that sounds basically like nothing else, save maybe for a few other KY albums and spinoff ensembles.

Speaking of some spiked punchbowl action, props to the mystical sound magi of Louisville, Kentucky's Eyes and Arms of Smoke, who conjur a rare magic indeed on their "A Religion of Broken Bones" LP, via the always reliable Cenotaph organization. This record easily exhibits a similar sort of scattered, what-the-hell(?) aura as the above, materialized in an unclassifiable instrumental sound that brings together chamber music, jazz, folk, crude electronics and more into a smoothly kinetic sound tunnel to the outer realms. Only two bands I can think of currently who even come close to this sort of downbeat dream: Comus (EaAoS occasionally features warbling high pitched vocals over rushing acoustic guitars, channeling the demented forest gnome spirits) and...

...Portland’s Rollerball specializes in a cryptic chamber/ nowave/ lounge jazz/ trip hop(?) on "Catholic Paws / Catholic Pause" (Silber) which I can't help but be completely transfixed by. These folks have almost no discernable style, yet maintain a constant musicality that's amorphous and engaging all the way through. Boy and girl vox occasionally appear in strange art pop songs that continuously ride the surrealist/ absurdist roads of the subconscious, passing through some genuinely disturbed back alleys along the way, and probably losing most who’d dare follow. Robert Wyatt and the Art Bears come to mind across the span of these rough and tumble, occasionally lo-fi, lounge/no wave excursions. This is definitely an acquired taste (pretty much all Rollerball is), but worth investigation if you like the weirdo art rock/lounge lizard thing.

Mmmmm August Born. This self titled album (Drag City) is a transcontinental dream meeting if ever there was one. Ben Chasny (Mr. Six Organs) and Hiroyuki Usui (Mr. L) come together (via post) to brilliantly combine their etheareal takes on blues and folk musics, and the results are really just about what you'd expect. Essential and haunted lo-fi tone poems for the impending cold months, and whatever else may loom on the horizon.

Hush Arbors/ Terracid/ The North Sea issued this untitled CD-R on newish upstart Barl Fire recently; all three of the contributors are bright new hopes in this avant folk whatever thing that's happening all across the globe as I type. Hush Arbors conjurs meditative electro dream swells before strapping on the acoustic and introducing beautiful tremelous vocals. I love to hear this guy sing. Terracid offers hushed winds and spacious ragas over quiet clatter that sounds as if the gods themselves decided to sing, and then drops a drifting vocal over a bed of percussive patter and desolate acoustic guitar to seal the deal. Fucking incredible. The North Sea offers three more direct paths to divinity, my favorite being the opening acoustic instrumental which combines a sweet melody with spectral raga tones in a blissful excusion to the soul center. The rest offers sparse melodies, shakers, rainsticks and distant vocals with a slight pop base.

George Brigman's "Jungle Rot" comes via the cult rock diggers at Anopheles Records; they definitely got a nack for recommitting weird limited pressings from the psych underground back into the wild. Couldn't think of a more deserving album than Brigman's mongrel blues psych punk tribute to the Groundhogs and other scuzz blues merchants (namely the Stooges and Blue Cheer). Low-fi before lo-fi was a marketing term, this is some seriously demented garage boogie with Brigman's volatile guitar skills at center stage. Absolutely devastating stuff that fans of Comets on Fire, Monoshock and Major Stars should especially dig. FUCKIN' SWEET!

Pumice's "Worldwide Skull" (Audiobot) features various live recordings by Stefan Neville. Think Xpressway, early Chris Knox, solo and slightly pissed (read as drunk) and maybe, Alastair Galbraith. There's a chilling quality in Stefan's songs, often times just him and guitar with some primitive effect on the vocals or whatnot, and the intimacy and ramshackle arrangements are all painfully necessary in conveying a sense of crude wonder and naked honesty. Worth the hunt for any damaged soul.

And finally comes a fantastic split CD between Breathe Stone (should sound almost familiar to some) and The Does via Hand/Eye. This one's been out a while now, but it's still available. Breathe Stone is a Stone Breath alter ego (think plugged in), and The Does (as in female deer!) are a smoking blues/ garage/ noise punk trio that probably has a few Birthday Party and Swans albums on their shelves, but that's not to say the three songs on "Sleep Deprivation Blues" are copycat material. They churn and rock with some tasteful slide guitar, lacerating rhythms, kicked up beats and a heart-throbbing fem vocals pushing everything over the top of the mountain. Breathe Stone's more likely to hang out up there with "Crow Omens," offering a slightly expanded version of their trad folk delirium, including some pretty burly fuzz guitars. Considering the typically more acoustic (but no less psychedelic) approach they're known for, this makes for a swell detour.

Clipped from somewhere:

"A site claiming to be 'the official website for Vincent Gallo,' the controversial filmmaker, is offering Vincent's sperm for sale.

The Internet site, VGMerchandise, has listed the sperm for a whopping $1 million. The website has listed a detailed agreement informing mothers of their options at Vincent's sperm. Gallo will reportedly inseminate them through in vitro fertilization or naturally. The natural route will cost and extra $500 thousand, which he offers to waive if he finds the woman attractive enough.

VGMerchandise also offers a detailed description of the director, saying 'Mr. Gallo is 5 feet 11 inches and has blue eyes. There are no known genetic deformities in his ancestry and no history of congenital diseases. If you have seen 'The Brown Bunny,' you know the potential size of the genitals if it's a boy (eight inches if he's like his father).' His 'essence' is said to 'blend well with a softer, more subtly featured female.'"

My favorite bit: "To be clear, the purchase of Mr. Gallo's sperm does not include the use of the name Gallo. The purchaser must find another surname for the child."

--So, is Vincent Gallo a fuckin idiot or one of the greatest minds of our time? I like some of his movies/music (mainly Buffalo 66), but it appears his true value is measured in his outlandish persona. He hangs out with Paris Hilton and thinks she's a genius. He's a card carrying republican. Punk rock incarnate.

I actually saw Shonen Knife open for Nirvana back in 1993. Very sad news:

RIP DMBQ/Shonen Knife drummer Mana Nishiura

"I'm merely the messenger. Keep her, her bandmates and their families in your thoughts.

Hello,

It is with a lot of grief and weariness that I announce that tonite's DMBQ and friends show @ Club Exit has been cancelled following a tragic car accident today.

DMBQ's van rolled from I-95 in Delaware en route from Baltimore to Brooklyn this
afternoon. All members of the band have been hospitalized, as well as Michelle Cable from Panache Magazine and booking, who has been managing their tour.

Mana "China" Nishiura did not survive the accident. China was DMBQ's drummer,
as well as the drummer in Shonen Knife. China will be missed.

Michelle Cable is conscious following surgery for a head injury. The other members
of DMBQ are stable but sedated and are expected to recover.

That's all the information I have.

None of the bands tonite nor I felt up to a rock show following the news.

We are tentatively planning to continue with tomorrow's show @ Kingsland Tavern
as a benefit to cover DMBQ's travel and medical expenses. If the bands and I decide we can't go through with the show, I'll send out a cancellation.

Thank you for you support and your understanding."

Could be worse...

I'm having one of those "I feel dead inside" days. It is nothing new, but sharing this sensation with the blogopshere is. Send me candy, drugs and/or special limited CD-R promos.

So Miers is gone and I loathe to see who her replacement will be. Looks like Dubya will have at least enough time to get his second justice appointed before the impeachment proceedings begin.

In different news, clipped from a Myspace message board:

The new Throbbing Gristle album is completed, delivered, ready to got into production and is titled: PART TWO. Official worldwide release is January 2006 on Mute Records. The initial pressing will be an extra-special edition. Live dates to be announced very soon!!!..please check www.throbbing-gristle.com and www.myspace.com/throbbinggristle for latest updates..new info soon ..its VERY EXCITING!!!!!


Adds me: Yeah!

Jackie-O Motherfucker Live, Motherfuckers!




and some merchandise... Vol 20 of the U-Sound Archive series, featuring a nifty impromptu cover drawing of the state of Texas by Tom Greenwood. Apparently the members of Jackie-O first came together to make fine smoking products, and only later did a proclivity towards more musical activities reveal itself. Well rounded and psychedelic: Made in America.

I did make it out to see Devendra Banhart and his Hairy Fairy Band the other night, though the best part of the evening was the drive out there when we rocked some Townes and the new Lightning Bolt and smoked superdank till we turned green. The new LB in particular is something to be reckoned with: a CHARGING primordial SHRED METAL post hardCOREkrautROCK assault!! They should use it to reanimate expired corpses.
At the Devendra show I observed:
The club was too small. It was overcrowded and sold out (last time I saw Banhart in Dallas, 30 people were there, and most didn't even pay attention as he played crosslegged on a table top).
A cute blonde with big byoobs brushed against me as she danced.
She couldn't help it.
We talked some.
A fight broke out and some poor fella was cracked over the head with a beer bottle. Blood everywhere! As a result the cramped club immediately became looser and easier to move around in. I jumped in front of big byoobed blonde as large protectors tend to, tried my best to see where all those loud "thuds" were coming from. At the time it occurred to me that this was a Devendra Banhart show, supposed hippie dippie love dream blah blah, dismissed the whole torrid affair as sign o' the times.
Devendra and his frazzle haired gaggle of craggles were not so bad, playing through the melee. Big byoobed blonde disappeared to the front of the crowd, was never seen or heard again.
Shouted: "What happened to Woody Guthrie, Devendra?" in a cockney accent.

My Pops came through his operation just fine.

np: TWILIGHT "As The March of Worms"

SHEESH...I really need to get some new friends or somethin'. Wolf Eyes played here Saturday night, and NO ONE bothered to inform me just in case I wasn't up on the concert calender thingamijig, and I wasn't. I LOVE Wolf Eyes...you should too unless yr a pussy. They're playing Austin in just under a month, so all may not be lost. Sure wish they'd bring Comets on Fire with 'em.

Seeing Devendra Banhart and his Hairy Fairy Band tomorrow with the one and only Bunnybrains should serve as some sort of compensation. I quite like the new one, Cripple Crow. Not as good as the first three, but the good songs are really darn good.

Got the "Invisible Pyramid: Elegy Box" today. This is definitely doing the trick. Doesnt hurt that so far every contribution (listening to Up-Tight on disc 3 currently) has rivaled the best material from each artist I've been exposed to before now. Well, almost... Also got the new Tetuzi Akiyama on Locust, been LOVING "Buck Dharma" by WWVV, The Eyes and Arms of Smoke LP on Cenotaph, this three way split Cd-R by Hush Arbors/Terracid/The North Sea on Barl Fire; August Born is beautiful stuff... The latest live Current 93 album is a sad dream. More on all this later, mayhaps. It's a shame I'm not going to be able to see C93 in SF in a few weeks. Real life is like that sometimes... fuckin' lame.

Finally: "Garden State" sucked. I hope Zakk Braff dies and becomes a zombie and eats Natalie Portman alive.

np: Up-Tight "Le Bleu du ciel"
Feelin': saucy

Don't ever let anyone tell you that the world is a cruel and unjust place:

Old bird face-slapped with a tofu pie in France!


And...
As some of you may or may not know Brian Wilson has come up with a rather bizarre/cool plan that only he could dream up: He'll match anyone who makes a donation of a hundred bucks or more to the Red Cross and--the kicker--make a personal phone call to that person so he/she can ask Mr. Wilson any question of thier choice. Pretty rad, and apparently he's already raised over $200,000 and been making lots of calls. Tempting...

Kelley Stoltz, a recent Sub Pop signing that I quite like (early Bolan crossed with late 60s Kinks based on the couple songs I heard, with nice throwback production to the days of my infancy), made a donation. Here's the story, hijacked from the Sub Pop site:

"So Kelley’s girlfriend paid for him to do that Katrina benefit deal where you donate $100 to the Red Cross & he matches your $ & gives you a phone call & let’s you ask him a question. So the very same day they pay for it Kelley is sitting around the house spacing out & he gets the call. “Hi Kelley, this is Brian Wilson…”. He was apparently pleasant & asked what Kelley did etc. Kelley hadn’t worked up a question yet for him but in a rush he remembered that after getting his piano tuned he could no longer play a song he plunked around on called “Meant for You” so he asked him what the chords were. Brian’s response was “I wouldn’t know”. So that conversation kind of ground to a halt & Brian said “thanks for donating etc.”. Kelley was pacing around going wow, that was weird, what a trip etc. & the phone rings again. “Hi, Kelley it’s Brian Wilson. The first chord is an A-minor”. So Kelley goes over to the piano & smacks an A-minor & starts playing the song & sings a little bit of it & Brian joins in & they sing a 4-5 verse duet!!!!!! What the fuck????"

The leaves are growing old and deathly again as we all come together for the seasons of mischief. This was originally to be Part 2 of my Summer's End Pop Roundup, but now it's simply:

Part One of The Fall:

Old friend Øyvind Holm (Ringleader of Norway's masters of psych pop delirium, Dipsomaniacs) returns with his solo debut, "The Vanishing Point" (Camera Obscura), a heartfelt collection of rustling folk pop and psych rock that draws from the likes of the Byrds, Love, Dylan, John Lennon and maybe Guided By Voices for influence, but of course the biggest inspiration on Øyvind's songs is his life, and it's one lived with emotional clarity. These ten tracks easily rank among his best, but then he's probably one of the most consistant tunesmiths on the planet after all is said and done. "Self-Mutated Summer Breeze" goes from a jangly uptempo rush to fuzz implosion before the rousing chorus takes us to the fade. Elsewhere he employs harmonica, ivory tickles and tasty string swells to give everything a nice warm push into the coming cold season. For fans of Cardinal (excellent s/t'ed album recently reissued), the more structured side of Elephant 6, Beulah, later REM, etc... I'd also like to give a quick nod to Dungen and the reissue of their lovely breakthrough, "Ta Det Lugnt" album here in the states on Subliminal Sounds/Koch. It comes with a bonus EP of material (not as good as on the album, so not really essential if you already scored the import version) in a lovely digipack. What I said before still applies: "Some might dismiss "Ta Det Lugnt" as too retro or, the horror, too Swedish; fair I suppose given Gustav Ejstes sings everything in his native language in a nasally Lennon-esque tone, but I hesitate to see these traits as shortcomings. In a way similar to maybe Gorkys Zygotic Mynci, Dungen relishes all the retro trappings with glee and, by extension, so does his audience. The pummeling Jack Bruce meets Keith Moon drum work, the ornate strings, astounding guitar work and reverb drenched vocals are all lovingly employed in a dish crammed full of inventive ideas....easier to get into than a Volvo."

Every one of Mercury Rev’s six albums to date brings something interesting to the table, though the last one definitely showed them floundering a bit. "The Secret Migration" (V2) is a step back in the right direction me thinks with booming, shimmery pop constructions conjured with an ear towards classic 60s symphonic psych and all our favorite musical auteurs. The results are upbeat with a deep production, if not a tad overly familiar. This could be the best thing they've released since "Deserter's Song" and not necessarily just another rehash of what's come before; either way, it’s definitely a Mercury Rev record, with an almost mythical quality cascading throughout. I still like what they have to say, but it largely seems the rest of the world has moved on, or regressed, depending on your perspective.

This Delaney girl is new to me, but I like her moxy on this self titled debut, released by the Pehr Label. A Frenchie playing jangly pop songs that fall somewhere between Cat Power and PJ Harvey, all sung in the native language, mind you, which I suppose would make this French pop! Sensual and catchy, sad and a little pissy, she manages to transcend her predictable origins, and occasionally rocks out in the process. Better than expected, though not that original. What is today? Not Of Montreal, but they're still fun to shake yo booty to. "The Sunlandic Twins" (Polyvinyl) is a funky, freaky, poppy dance fix that combines their previous Beach Boys worship with an ever growing slide into 80s post disco. Still timid and loveable, less maniacle than earlier albums. One of the songs is titled "Knight Rider" (a likely nod to George Romero's cult classic). Almost there... "Oceans Apart" (Yep Roc) comes to us via everyone's favorite Aussie guitar pop export, The Go-Betweens, and it’s another solid effort from these legendary Monkees obsessives. The Go-Betweens are definitely one of those bands that bridged the gap between DIY punk and modern day meloncholic/ melodic indie rock (The Clean and REM are two others), and these 10 songs perfectly convey just why that is; particularly the rousing acoustic jangle pop of "Finding You" and the gorgeous swoon of "Boundary Rider," both radiating a lingering sense of loss as they knock you out with their harmonic splendors. The whole collection is a gorgeous slice of seemingly effortless mid-tempo guitar pop the likes of which too few bands can muster these days, but that hardly stops them from trying, does it? Pay attension, folks. Master Forster and McLennan wrote the book. This version comes with a bonus disk of live material recorded in London in 2004 with a solid selection that spans their storied 27 year career. There you have it: Melodicsm incarnate.

Two omissions in the Dylan doc worth considering:

Ramblin' Jack Elliot, and the controversy surrounding the suggestion that Dylan's early act was actually more acquired from this one time playing partner to Woody Guthrie. He supposedly was called "ramblin'" because he was known to go off on long stories whenever he struck up a conversation with someone. Strange they'd include Odetta and Woody but no Jack. I haven't seen "The Ballad of Ramblin' Jack," a film made by his daughter that goes into more detail, but want to.

Also no mention of Richard Farina, the author/folksinger who was married to Joan Baez's sister, Mimi. They recorded a few great albums in the mid 60s before, get this, he died in a motorcycle crash (the same year Bob was in his own crash!) Now that would've made for an interesting twist. The book "Positively 4th Street: The Lives and Times of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Mimi Baez Farina and Richard Farina" by David Hajdu goes into greater detail.

Quite enjoyed the Dylan doc. All those clean-cut, pasty faced Brits accusing Bobby of selling out are worth the price of admission alone. And poor Pete Seeger!

I suppose for the Dylan obsessive there's not much new information here, but as someone whose exposure to 60s Bob largely starts and ends with D.A. Pennebaker's brilliant "Dont Look Back," it was quite revelatory, not to mention self-aggrandizing and hypnotic. There really is a lot of confusion surrounding Dylan (he likes it that way), so this attempt to set some things straight--and further confound at the same time--should be welcome by most. Also, young Dylan is simply the most photogenic hipster of all time.

I do love how his most popular song--as are most meaningful pop hits--is a cryptic indictment against a culture who doesn't really know how it feels to be "like a rolling stone," or want to know for that matter. A culture that doesn't get it, but loves to sing along. Who can blame 'em. Life as a rambler ain't no party.

Here's a great article, published earlier this year in The Nation that explores the many possible meanings of the song through a review of Greil Marcus's most recent Bob opus and a couple other recent bios which over-ponder the meanings of pop songs. Good stuff.

Dylan is IT...
Should've posted this earlier: Tune into PBS tonight (9/26) and tomorrow to see Martin Scorcese's "Bob Dylan: No Direction Home." It's not just the history of how Robert Zimmerman became Bob Dylan; it's more like the history of American folk music in general, at least the first half, anyway. It's also on DVD.

Two weeks ago it was the Finns; last night it was the Swedes. Saw Dungen (DOON-GEN) play at the Gypsy Tea Room with Mia Doi Todd opening, though we arrived too late to see her set. As Dungen walked on stage, looking very thin and Swedish, I shouted "FUCKING HIPPIES!" to which the long haired, bespectacled bass player murmured, "fuck oaf." He was sheepish and adorable. Head DUNG, Gustav Ejstes was positively princely in his faded Max's Kansas City tee shirt. It was obvious from their stage demeanor and the hotshit tourbus outside these lads fancied themselves superstars in the making. And as far as I'm concerned, that's not a problem. Their set was comprised almost entirely of the best songs off "Ta Det Lugnt" ("Take it Easy"), but my favorite parts were the extended jams. At least one track went off into Canterbury-an (and Swedish) prog psych utopia complete with flute and distended acid leads for a good 12 mins, and made me feel like it was 1971 all over again. Lovely stuff every step of the way...

Phone Pix:

The Frances Ford Coppola (the guy responsible for all those "Godfather" movies and the incredibly creepy/brilliant "The Conversation") is writing and directing "Youth Without Youth," based on a novella by Romanian author Mircea Ellade and starring Tim Roth. The auteur claims it will be his creative resurgance: "I have come here to rediscover myself as an artist," he told a gaggle of Romanian uni students recently. Fingers crossed, Frances! He's also producing a film version of Kerouac's Beat bible, "On The Road," directed by Brazilian Walter Salles, responsible for "The Bicycle Diaries," which was kind of like 'Che Goes On the Road'.

Full story.

More reviews someday.

When you have some spare time, goto google.com and type in 'failure' and click 'I'm feeling lucky.' Ha!

Two upcoming events of note:

First off, Instal 05, scheduled October 14-16, is gonna be incredible. Birchville Cat Motel/Black Boned Angel, Tetuzi Akiyama, Sun City Girls, Jandek, Up-tight, Miminokoto, Alan Licht, Tom Bruno and more(!), all playing the Arches in Glasgow. Sheesh! Maybe next year, mates.

Second, scope the new mega box set release from the Last Visible Dog empire:
The Invisible Pyramid: elegy box 6 CD compilation

LVD's second compilation and spiritual successor to Drunken Fish's Harmony of the Spheres box (EP length submissions), but instead of 6 artists, there are now 31. The set features all exclusive material, and the total running time clocks in around 7 hours and 36 minutes. This compilation, like the first Invisible Pyramid comp (2003), finds its inspiration in the writings of Loren Eiseley (naturalist, anthropologist, and essayist); for whom an elegy to the first victims of the still-escalating wave of man-made mass extinction seemed appropriate. Each artist has dedicated their track to a recently extinct species (with a short bio), and Jeff Knoch (Urdog) has written a substantial essay to accompany the set.

Disc 1: Black Forest/Black Sea, Birchville Cat Motel, Wolfmangler, Loren Chasse, Bardo Pond
Disc 2: es, Andrea Belfi & Stefano Pilia, Sunken, Kulkija, Tomu Tonttu
Disc 3: UP-TIGHT, Flies Inside the Sun, Uton, mudboy, Steven R. Smith
Disc 4: Keijo, Doktor Kettu, My Cat is an alien, One Inch of Shadow, Fursaxa
Disc 5: Ashtray Navigations, Peter Wright, Geoff Mullen, Urdog, Miminokoto
Disc 6: Area C, Ben Reynolds, Seht, Avarus, Renato Rinaldi, Matt De Gennaro

All for only $40...Wow!

I've been reading "American Splendor": I love the movie, but it must be said the comic (er, graphic novel) is where Harvey and his many collaborators really shine. The movie works more as a postmodern comment on life, art and "happiness," but the actual stories are closer to genuine literature with visual aids and keen observational moments that hit too close to home. Harvey Pekar (along with the visual style of R. Crumb) is as visionary as they come. His comic stories are all a tad more primal and ridiculous than reality...or maybe just painstakingly accurate representations of how life really is.

It was a gift from Travis: He lives here: While visiting St. Louis I encountered: And of course: (percussionist for Islaja).

Other pictures from my St. Louis trip. I also have live recordings from the weekend-- Islaja, The Skaters, Kuupuu, etc--for share on slsk. It was fun.