Once again, Six Organs of Admittance showcases the intricate tangle of fingers on the fretboard and flash of lens flare slicing the air, as the future arcs 360 degrees around to become a part of the past as well. Oscillations in this glass bowl ripple outward eternally, but are rooted on the ground where all the creatures are moving and communing; humans too. An intimate cosmic expression, file under: rural-industrial psych, ecosystem goth.
Mother Twilight is the second Faun Fables album. It has since been noted by Scottish author R.J. Stewart as a work containing true artifacts of the oral underworld tradition. Dawn and Nils made a hand-assembled first pressing and peddled it to nearly every bar and rural hall across North America from 2001-2003. Drag City reissued the CD in 2004. Things are glowing outside, enough to bring any sun worshiper in for the night. But you must remain outside and begin walking. It"ll prepare you for the night, which otherwise comes as a chilling surprise. If you pay attention this time, maybe you"ll understand why you"re becoming invisible. When your memory began, it wasn"t startling, wasn"t a mistake. It came out of an old, dark and familiar thing, like a storyteller, like Twilight... so save us from fear, mother, and tell your story. Dawn McCarthy"s creative background was forged in oral tradition amidst a large musical family in Spokane, Washington; studying piano, music theater, rock bands, guitar, folklore and ethnomusicology. Dawn cut her teeth as a singer and performer with various bands and cabarets in Madison, Wisconsin and New York City, most notably as yodeler with the Bindlestiff Family Cirkus, who inspired her to want a gypsy life with a kindred spirit someday. Her focus took a pivotal turn in that direction in 1997 with a solo quest through the UK and Ireland and their bardic traditions; singing songs in clubs and homes, all the while undergoing a pastoral, psychological experience with the land. Upon her return to the States, a fateful meeting with Oakland, CA born-and-raised Nils Frykdahl (Sleepytime Gorilla Museum) moved McCarthy back to the West to begin a new creative collaboration in the thriving hills and art community of the San Francisco Bay Area. Since 1999, Faun Fables have released six albums and performed their animist, otherworldly folk music across North America and Europe, with shows in Australia, New Zealand and Israel, as well. Dawn"s writing and voice (described by The New Yorker as "one of the more compelling instruments in contemporary music") opens hearts and minds with a whisper to a rallying battle cry, further animated by Frykdahl"s adventurous musicality and vocals. Dawn has written musical theater performed by the Idyllwild Arts Academy, among others, and has lent her vocals to Bonnie "Prince" Billy on The Letting Go and What the Brothers Sang. In 2022, Faun Fables debuted their family band, joined onstage by their daughters with vocals, percussion, keyboard and dance.
Happy 20th birthday to Family Album, the third recording of Faun Fables and the first one released on Drag City. These songs belong to sons and daughters, entwined and orphaned, domesticated and feral; to all the family vines unraveling from a ball of yarn. In this family album, runaways graze the wild together, a mother finds her courage playing the piano, dogs become thieves and wolves, and a son is taken too soon. Fourteen-year-old nymphs sit dangerously at the crossroads, a younger brother tries to find his place, packs of girls defeat fear with a march, and the nightly adventures of the household mouse are spied upon. Dawn McCarthy"s creative background was forged in oral tradition amidst a large musical family in Spokane, Washington; studying piano, music theater, rock bands, guitar, folklore and ethnomusicology. Dawn cut her teeth as a singer and performer with various bands and cabarets in Madison, Wisconsin and New York City, most notably as yodeler with the Bindlestiff Family Cirkus, whom inspired her to want a gypsy life with a kindred spirit someday. Her focus took a pivotal turn in that direction in 1997 with a solo quest through the UK and Ireland and their bardic traditions; singing songs in clubs and homes, all the while undergoing a pastoral, psychological experience with the land. Upon her return to the States, a fateful meeting with Oakland, CA born-and-raised Nils Frykdahl (Sleepytime Gorilla Museum) moved McCarthy back to the West to begin a new creative collaboration in the thriving hills and art community of the San Francisco Bay Area. Since 1999, Faun Fables have released six albums and performed their animist, otherworldly folk music across North America and Europe, with shows in Australia, New Zealand and Israel, as well. Dawn"s writing and voice (described by The New Yorker as "one of the more compelling instruments in contemporary music") opens hearts and minds with a whisper to a rallying battle cry, further animated by Frykdahl"s adventurous musicality and vocals. Dawn has written musical theater performed by the Idyllwild Arts Academy, among others, and has lent her vocals to Bonnie "Prince" Billy on The Letting Go and What the Brothers Sang. In 2022, Faun Fables debuted their family band, joined onstage by their daughters with vocals, percussion, keyboard and dance.
High Llamas present Hey Panda - a modern pop music/deep listening experience that could only issue forth from their personal quadrant of the galaxy. Hey Panda projects soulfully through an enervating abstract of today"s popular music; the sound of the Llamas" stately melodies and expressive ditties laid open - blissfully shattered - with drums and vocals hitting different, burning sounds and contemporary production twists pulling the ear at every turn. For the past few decades, High Llamas have trafficked in contemporary pop sounds directed toward the avant end of the spectrum as much as not. But here the message was clear. Llamas" composer-in-residence Sean O"Hagan was determined to let go. Hey Panda does just that, with a set of tunes reflecting on multiple levels how definitions change over the course of a lifetime, radiating an optimism derived from the diverse conundrums of today. Eight years since their last release, the pop musical Here Come The Rattling Trees, High Llamas have reinvented themselves again, mixing their peerless harmonic voice with what Sean regards as the "extraordinarily good" production sounds of today on Hey Panda. Choosing not to look backward to former golden ages celebrated in earlier Llamas eras, Sean"s instead found himself opened up by the sounds of music brought into the house by his adult children and the sounds encountered at sessions for which he"s recently written arrangements. In addition to the more traditional contributions he made to The Coral"s Sea of Mirrors album, plus his score for the Safdie brothers" 2022 film production, Funny Pages, Sean"s drawn great inspiration through working with Fryars, Rae Morris, King Krule, Pearl and The Oyster, while also soaking up the work of Tierra Whack and Chicago"s Pivot Gang, and being cheered on from a distance by longtime admirer Tyler The Creator. Thus, Sean"s producer procedural has evolved again, with upgrades first detected in his 2019 solo effort, Radum Calls, Radum Calls. With a cover of Billie Eilish"s "Wish You Were Gay" arranged for Bill Callahan and Bonnie Prince Billy"s Blind Date Party, along with his COVID-era solo single, "The Wild Are Welcome", Sean has leveled up again and again, leading to the delirious revelations of Hey Panda. Hey Panda"s wide reach is aided by two co-writes from Bonnie "Prince" Billy, (who bonded with Sean over a shared love of gospel soul during writing sessions), guest vocals from Rae Morris and Sean"s daughter Livvy, production twists from Fryars and the stalwart, flexible presence of High Llamas. For all of its sense of departure, Hey Panda is a movement in the High Llamas oeuvre that"s been a long time in development. Aspects of soul music were addressed at the time of Can Cladders; similarly, aspects of electronic dance music were in the mix in the late 90s, around the time of Cold and Bouncy. But nothing up to now has refocused the music of High Llamas so completely. Sharing the impulse of late-period Miles Davis and Quincy Jones, with further inspiration from Steve Lacy, SZA, Sault, No Name and Ezra Collective, among many others, Sean O"Hagan and High Llamas are living joyfully in the new and the now, with Hey Panda.
This is long overdue. I mean, looooooonnnnnng overdue. A solo album by Jim. The trap kit - so straightforward, so mysterious. What"s inside those things? Air and light - from which century? Which continent? Which planet? Depending on how and when you hit them it can be a vibration sent through a prehistoric breath, particles of Saturn"s atmosphere, the dead, wet leaves you walked through on the way to the first day of school. These are the memories of the drums on this record. Infinite and personal. Editing each other as they muscle to the front or soft shoe to the shadow. Cymbals can override/cancel everything out - wipe your memory clear or make the memory clearer. Drums are the instrument where you can feel the presence of the player the most - the full body - and sense the thoughts of the player the most. The instrument with the most choices to be made sends out the most brainwaves. A bouquet of brainwaves is on this LP. Jim oversees it all, surveys from the lost place we"re in, the void - the drumless song. We trust. We trust, Jim. His big green eyes search for the right tool (mallet, brush, etc), eyes that search you like you"re a song he wants to join, wants to see if he can add to or understand. Before humans, drums were playing - these drums. Genesis was a solo drum piece. After humans, these drums, this album. Someone - the last man - is out in a spaceship at the edge of space. He plays a single chord on a synth to set time free from its bind and then lets go. This album sets time free, lets it frolic, lets it graze, lets it remember. This is a record of thoughts, memories, surgery. A deft surgical operation you may not even realize is happening as it"s happening but you"re back on your feet when it"s over. Memories refreshed. Did you really even listen to it? -Bill Callahan, November 2023
Returned to us from early 90s Japan are the holy holy sounds of Ghost. Their collective, clearly inspired by various forms of transcendental music throughout history, created a new syncretic psychedelia with these albums, mixing the texture and vibe of multinational forms of traditional music, with strummed antique stringed instruments and the haunting wail of a recorder on top of their heavy beats and guitars. The considerable depth of this approach was explored through 2014 over another five Ghost LPs, as well as the further explorations to the present day of leader Masaki Batoh, as a solo artist and with The Silence, Damon & Naomi, Helena Espvall and most recently, nehan. These first three Ghost titles were originally released by P.S.F. on CD in 1990, 1992 and 1994, respectively, radiating enigma and energy in palpable waves with their original sound. After the acclaim that greeted Drag City"s 1996 US release of Lama Rabi Rabi, we quickly reissued all three on vinyl - and they quickly went out of print! At which point, Ghost had Snuffbox Immanence and Free Tibet ready to go. And then, Hypnotic Underworld. And then, and then . . . . Now, it"s been 25 years since they were last offered on vinyl. In the twenty-year sweep of Ghost history, these first three releases qualify as primitive early Ghost - sort of like a German Os Mutantes (or perhaps a Brazilian Amon Düül). The subterranean presence of a diversity of progressive/avant classic rock influences (Pink Floyd, Incredible String Band, Captain Beefheart, Scott Walker, Led Zeppelin, Popol Vuh, Third Ear Band, to name but a few) provokes further synthesis, making for an entirely new meditation on the traditional order of psychedelic music. The first two studio albums, each one an iteration of Ghost"s unique lysergic folk music, were followed by the monolithic "live in various places" happening of Temple Stone, which raised the trippiness levels considerably. But this was only the end of the beginning . . .
Returned to us from early 90s Japan are the holy holy sounds of Ghost. Their collective, clearly inspired by various forms of transcendental music throughout history, created a new syncretic psychedelia with these albums, mixing the texture and vibe of multinational forms of traditional music, with strummed antique stringed instruments and the haunting wail of a recorder on top of their heavy beats and guitars. The considerable depth of this approach was explored through 2014 over another five Ghost LPs, as well as the further explorations to the present day of leader Masaki Batoh, as a solo artist and with The Silence, Damon & Naomi, Helena Espvall and most recently, nehan. These first three Ghost titles were originally released by P.S.F. on CD in 1990, 1992 and 1994, respectively, radiating enigma and energy in palpable waves with their original sound. After the acclaim that greeted Drag City"s 1996 US release of Lama Rabi Rabi, we quickly reissued all three on vinyl - and they quickly went out of print! At which point, Ghost had Snuffbox Immanence and Free Tibet ready to go. And then, Hypnotic Underworld. And then, and then . . . . Now, it"s been 25 years since they were last offered on vinyl. In the twenty-year sweep of Ghost history, these first three releases qualify as primitive early Ghost - sort of like a German Os Mutantes (or perhaps a Brazilian Amon Düül). The subterranean presence of a diversity of progressive/avant classic rock influences (Pink Floyd, Incredible String Band, Captain Beefheart, Scott Walker, Led Zeppelin, Popol Vuh, Third Ear Band, to name but a few) provokes further synthesis, making for an entirely new meditation on the traditional order of psychedelic music. The first two studio albums, each one an iteration of Ghost"s unique lysergic folk music, were followed by the monolithic "live in various places" happening of Temple Stone, which raised the trippiness levels considerably. But this was only the end of the beginning . . .
Returned to us from early 90s Japan are the holy holy sounds of Ghost. Their collective, clearly inspired by various forms of transcendental music throughout history, created a new syncretic psychedelia with these albums, mixing the texture and vibe of multinational forms of traditional music, with strummed antique stringed instruments and the haunting wail of a recorder on top of their heavy beats and guitars. The considerable depth of this approach was explored through 2014 over another five Ghost LPs, as well as the further explorations to the present day of leader Masaki Batoh, as a solo artist and with The Silence, Damon & Naomi, Helena Espvall and most recently, nehan. These first three Ghost titles were originally released by P.S.F. on CD in 1990, 1992 and 1994, respectively, radiating enigma and energy in palpable waves with their original sound. After the acclaim that greeted Drag City"s 1996 US release of Lama Rabi Rabi, we quickly reissued all three on vinyl - and they quickly went out of print! At which point, Ghost had Snuffbox Immanence and Free Tibet ready to go. And then, Hypnotic Underworld. And then, and then . . . . Now, it"s been 25 years since they were last offered on vinyl. In the twenty-year sweep of Ghost history, these first three releases qualify as primitive early Ghost - sort of like a German Os Mutantes (or perhaps a Brazilian Amon Düül). The subterranean presence of a diversity of progressive/avant classic rock influences (Pink Floyd, Incredible String Band, Captain Beefheart, Scott Walker, Led Zeppelin, Popol Vuh, Third Ear Band, to name but a few) provokes further synthesis, making for an entirely new meditation on the traditional order of psychedelic music. The first two studio albums, each one an iteration of Ghost"s unique lysergic folk music, were followed by the monolithic "live in various places" happening of Temple Stone, which raised the trippiness levels considerably. But this was only the end of the beginning . . .
nehan is a Japanese free improvisation & avant-garde rock quintet formed in August 2022. Their performances are initiated by a 9hz brain wave emitted from a testee who has been brought into a deep meditative state via either hypnosis or acupuncture - a very relaxed but very alert state. nehan doesn"t begin until the testee has gotten into the state of "nothingness." It is only then that the improvisation can begin. The role of improvisation has been key to all the musical projects of Masaki Batoh. In 2010, as Batoh was winding down the activity of his long-standing "heavy chamber folk" group, Ghost, he became involved in the design of a machine to generate sonic data based on brain waves. An acupuncturist as well as a musician by trade, his interest was spurred by the rhythms of the body and the brain, and a desire to access the "pulses" of brain waves to initiate improvisations. Following the release of Brain Pulse Music, Batoh toured Japan, the US and Europe, making demonstrations of his process using a local volunteer and guest performers, when available. Today, nehan arrive at their performance space prepared with a Brain Pulse testee, bringing a wide array of instruments including gongs, timpani, tabla and other drums and percussion, Crumhorn, bagpipes, mellotron, oscillators and additional sound effects. Their performance is a transformative electro-acoustic display that passes through the prism of music styles, from east to west, from traditional folk and classical to rock, jazz, and avant electronic. While nehan"s performance presentation invokes a sense of ritual, they understand their process as being far removed from any type of spiritual endeavor - it has nothing to do with eastern thinking or any kind of religious ceremony - this is an action of improvisation, occurring in reality between the five musicians on stage, in response to the brain waves of an individual. For the personnel of nehan, Masaki Batoh asked players with whom he had good previous experiences in improvisation: Futoshi Okano (Ghost, Acid Mothers Temple, The Silence), Haruo Kondo (Espvall & Batoh) and Junzo Tateiwa (Ghost), along with female Brain Pulse testee Gozen on oscillators. The performance here, recorded live in August of 2022 at GOK SOUND in Tokyo, demonstrates their communal dedication to the improvisation. The players act as listeners and musicians simultaneously, inspired to make extended pieces of music out of the "nothingness" of brain waves. The possibilities of nehans"s chosen approach are almost infinite; an evening with nehan is only the beginning of their journey.
This split 7" unites the Hackney coalition, as the next gen kids join their father and uncle in Death, on one side, while continuing to forge their own path as Rough Francis on the other. The production, by on-call drummer Urian Hackney, ambitiously streamlines the hard-driving sound of both bands: Julian Hackney"s guitars, the vocals of Bobby Jr. and Sr. and all the rumbling rhythm unleashed! A new chapter in the history of Death has begun.
Cylene II is the new materialization of the collaboration between François J. Bonnet & Stephen O"Malley, initiated in 2018 and continued without interruption since then, taking form in a myriad of contexts ranging from common practice to recording sessions, concerts and tours. Cylene II bears witness to these different contexts, offering a multifaceted sound signature developed on different occasions (artist residencies in La Becque, Switzerland and Modena, Italy, live performance excerpts, a studio session at INA-GRM Studios in Paris). The epic opening track "Four Rays (Anti Divide)" welcomes, for the first time, other musicians - in this case a wind quintet - expanding the duo"s sonic palette without betraying the fundamental component of their music, namely the driving of sonic energy. Elsewhere, Bonnet and O"Malley propel the energy between themselves, extending the singular climate that has characterized their musical development over the past five years. Among their minimal presentation of tones and resonances, as glacial harmonic intersections slowly elevate with massive physicality to an orchestral degree, new refinements become evident: the music"s relationship to silence, and a brightening of the fine metallic edge glowing at its core. For the listener, Cylene II is a sound that reaches from the deep and scales up to the far firmament in its careful motion, drawing emotions viscerally from the chest, giving rise to the suggestibility of the soul. A séance of sorts for all who witness it, whether playing or listening.
The initial cassette-only releases of Tashi Dorji turned lots of heads, including Six Organs of Admittance and Hermit Hut - now over a decade later, this release makes its full-album debut on vinyl. "It really was a formative time for me because it felt like everything opened, as far as the possibilities of what music-making meant. Like improvisation walked in and then there was a volcanic eruption" - Tashi Dorji "The self-titled session was recorded at a nice studio at the local university here in Asheville. I had some friends that were studying music there and had access to studio time. This session focused more on extended/prepared guitar ideas. My interest in percussive elements of sounds, timbre, harmonics, and dynamics plays a lot in this recording." - Tashi Dorji
The initial cassette-only releases of Tashi Dorji turned lots of heads, including Six Organs of Admittance and Hermit Hut - now over a decade later, this release makes its full-album debut on vinyl. "Guitar Improvisation and Tashi Dorji are the first physical releases of my guitar improvisations. They were put out by a small local, now defunct, label called Headway Recording in 2012 and 2013. The friends who ran the label had heard some of my guitar music and reached out to me about doing a cassette release. Guitar Improvisations was really my first recording of improvisation - in a semi-studio setting at my friend"s basement space. It really was a formative time for me because it felt like everything opened, as far as the possibilities of what music-making meant. Like improvisation walked in and then there was a volcanic eruption . . ." - Tashi Dorji
Dreyblatt"s minimalist conception - a rhythmic drone played on a double-bass strung with piano wire, playing in concert with other stringed instruments performing in 20 unequal microtones per octave and changing key but keeping the same fundamental pitch - dates back to the 1970s, while he studied under La Monte Young and Pauline Oliveros. Resolve acts in intermittent dialogue with the first Orchestra of Excited Strings release, 1982"s Nodal Excitation.
Since then, Dreyblatt has formed new orchestras across various countries and decades, with each phase of his music requiring several overlapping periods of gestation and arrangement.
The current Orchestra is formed by Konrad Sprenger, Joachim Schütz and Oren Ambarchi. On Resolve, each of the members" playing brings new angles to the compositions. Konrad Sprenger"s involves solenoids, sine waves and a computer-controlled multi-channel electric guitar (as well as a relentless style behind the drum kit and oversight of the album production), while Joachim Schütz"s individual conception of electronics and electric guitar and Oren Ambarchi"s undeniable innovations with signal path work together with Dreyblatt"s bass (still strung with piano wire) as magnetic component parts of Resolve.
These contributions lead to Resolve"s dialogue with the early Orchestra of Excited Strings canon - for instance, the track previewed here, "Flight Path" takes off at a pace not often found in the minimalist genre - a rolling lope! Yet the sense of play is palpable: the ensemble scale their microtonal keys with punkish brio, a stance sharing much with the original Orchestra"s downtown pulse, even as as the new Orchestra burn their own path through Dreyblatt"s music.
Approaching his 70th birthday, with over 40 years of work as a solo artist, collaborator, composer, educator and bandleader, Arnold Dreyblatt views Resolve as an important expression within the long story of The Orchestra of Excited Strings. The album title"s tendency to mean different things is an indicator of the dynamic qualities of his music in all its different phases - an evolution that continues to produce new dimensions in acoustic sound with every new release.
Since 2011, Mike"s been a Drag City stalwart, first with Sic Alps, then as a solo and with The Peacers - but Mike "The Mighty Flashlight" Fellows has been a behind-the-scenes figure at Drag City since the early early days, playing live and on record with Royal Trux, Silver Jews and Will Oldham. Mike D"s music, in all phases, takes the form of a next-phase roots-pop: soaked in the traditional waters of rock and roll and passed through a variety of after-punk sonic sieves, highlighted with DIY and lo-fi values, and making a jolly hallucinatory racket, at that! He prefers a particular density of obtuse angles colliding sweet and hot noise, an arrangement he has perfected over all his Sic Alps/solo/The Peacers years; his innate understanding of the mechanics of a pop song wends purposefully through the junk-strewn landscape, sharing secrets with cipher in hand. Playing in this cracked kingdom of sound/garden of verse, Mighty Flashlight alternately accents and balances Mike"s eccentricities with his playing and knob-spinning - and with the Flashlight shining bright upon him, Donovan"s serpentine path becomes ever so much more elastic, heightened from line to line, change to change, its motility creating different shapes in our ears. Mighty"s own kind of stereo imagining informs Donovan"s smoky subterranea with additional depth of field, while still allowing all the wayward details within the arrangement to diverge as one. Mike and Mighty wind it all together: art punk utterance and top 40 radio junk of yore, the primitivity that formed recorded music in its youth, honkytonk romanticism, liminal chamber-folk and ever-present disassociated psychedelia, transformed via self-medication into a gleeful, extramusical ennui while giving the listener impetus to sing along with Mike"s patented unlikely combos of melody and lyric.
Recorded in 1995 and 1996, mostly in John Fahey"s room at a Salem, Oregon boardinghouse, the performances on Proofs and Refutations prefigure the ornery turn of the page that marked Fahey"s final years, drawing another enigmatic rabbit from his seemingly bottomless musical hat. Cloaked in the language of dogma - what is he proving? refuting? - this is Fahey dancing a jig in the Duchampian gap, jester cap bells a-jingling. True believers? He"s got something for you: an uncompromising vision that you can sneer at ("guy can"t play anymore and refuses to concede!") or embrace as evidence of his genius ("the reinventor does it again!"). Skeptics? He"s there with you, too: sending up the fallacy of certitudes altogether. Institutions, systems, accepted wisdoms. Heroes. Alternative facts, indeed. Right out of the gate, Fahey re-materializes before us, somewhere between Oracle of Delphi and Clown Prince at Olympus. Mounting a thundering dialectic from on high, "All the Rains" resembles nothing else in his extensive discography - betraying roots in everything from Dada to Episcopal liturgical chant - and contains nary a plucked guitar note. You can"t fool him! When the lap steel of yore appears on "F for Fake," it serves more as soundbed for an extended sequence of vocal improvisations, running the gamut from wordless Bashoian caterwauling to free-form (but decidedly fake) Tuvan, even revealing a burnished falsetto in the process. Fahey takes on a different kind of provocation in the two acoustic guitar-based tracks closing Side 1 - "Morning" parts 1 and 2 - the first of 4 recordings in this session that have him wrestling with the ghost of Skip James, perhaps Fahey"s effort to wrench the "bitter, hateful old creep" (his words) back into the grave. Anchoring Side 2 is the two-part "Evening, Not Night," the second half of his extended cathexis on James (and the latter"s avowed castration complex - another story for another day, perhaps). Bit of a chill in the air - where"s the impish Fahey from earlier? Unmistakably working through some psychic wounds here, we might think: the unheimlich rendered in glistening viscera. Or is he playing with our notions of authenticity, of his reputation as troubadour of raw emotional states, a pilgrim of the ominous, the simmering unconscious? These cards are kept decidedly close to the vest. The opening and closing pieces again feature Fahey"s guitar as drone soundbed - employing distortion, oscillation, and an altogether absurd quotient of reverb to create texture and harmonics that are - if we wanna go there - not dissimilar to the sustained tonic clusters of Tibetan singing bowls, the hurdy gurdy, Hindustani classical music, or La Monte freaking Young. Portions of this material appeared on obscure late "90s vinyl in the 7" or double-78 rpm format, but as a "session" it has lain dormant more than a quarter century now. Taken together, we can now see these tracks as secret blueprints to latter-day Fahey provocations, several years prior to records like 1997"s City of Refuge and Womblife.
Whispers is the first proper P.G. Six album since 2011"s Starry Mind. Time passes slowly, as they"ve been known to say out in the country, and before you know it, there"s a bunch of it behind you. After five releases in the first decade of P.G. Six, it may seem a bit of a surprise to have not heard something new in the past twelve years - but a cursory listen to Murmurs & Whispers will answer why, as the deep acoustic focus of the tracks imply an investment of the type of compassion and understanding that takes time and concentrated effort to conjure. Additionally, Pat Gubler"s always got a few pots going at once in his ever-expanding musical universe. He"s been active since the mid-90s, first with Memphis Luxure and Tower Recordings, then as P.G. Six, and as a member of Metal Mountains, Wet Tuna, Garcia Peoples and Weeping Bong Band. Additionally, some time was spent making collaborative records with Dan Melchior (in 2019) and Louise Bock (in 2021). Pat"s been playing the harp for more years than he"s been in bands, but when he realized that he was writing a set of songs centered around harp compositions, he spent some time in the woodshed with his instrument, a late 80s model Triplett Celtic 34 String Harp (which replaced a lovely Paraguayan harp he"d played for years previously). After the previous P.G. albums of electric band arrangements, he was in a place of writing songs with more silence in them. He ended up playing a lot of the parts himself on Murmurs & Whispers, adding guitar, bass, keyboards, recorder and hurdy gurdy, in addition to his harp and vocals. Clark Griffin and Wednesday Knudson, who Pat plays with in Weeping Bong Band, played and sang a bit themselves, and the record was recorded piece by piece in houses around upstate New York by Mike Fellows. Returning to the quiet acoustic sound of the first couple of P.G. Six albums, Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites (which has seen a much-needed reissue in the past year after too many years OOP) and The Well of Memory, Murmurs & Whispers is more straightforward in expressing its vision of rural celestial wonder. Bucolic and comfortably lived in, Murmurs & Whispers nonetheless projects the transcendent heart of P.G. Six once again, and as ever, it is magnificent to hear it passing through us.
Whispers is the first proper P.G. Six album since 2011"s Starry Mind. Time passes slowly, as they"ve been known to say out in the country, and before you know it, there"s a bunch of it behind you. After five releases in the first decade of P.G. Six, it may seem a bit of a surprise to have not heard something new in the past twelve years - but a cursory listen to Murmurs & Whispers will answer why, as the deep acoustic focus of the tracks imply an investment of the type of compassion and understanding that takes time and concentrated effort to conjure. Additionally, Pat Gubler"s always got a few pots going at once in his ever-expanding musical universe. He"s been active since the mid-90s, first with Memphis Luxure and Tower Recordings, then as P.G. Six, and as a member of Metal Mountains, Wet Tuna, Garcia Peoples and Weeping Bong Band. Additionally, some time was spent making collaborative records with Dan Melchior (in 2019) and Louise Bock (in 2021). Pat"s been playing the harp for more years than he"s been in bands, but when he realized that he was writing a set of songs centered around harp compositions, he spent some time in the woodshed with his instrument, a late 80s model Triplett Celtic 34 String Harp (which replaced a lovely Paraguayan harp he"d played for years previously). After the previous P.G. albums of electric band arrangements, he was in a place of writing songs with more silence in them. He ended up playing a lot of the parts himself on Murmurs & Whispers, adding guitar, bass, keyboards, recorder and hurdy gurdy, in addition to his harp and vocals. Clark Griffin and Wednesday Knudson, who Pat plays with in Weeping Bong Band, played and sang a bit themselves, and the record was recorded piece by piece in houses around upstate New York by Mike Fellows. Returning to the quiet acoustic sound of the first couple of P.G. Six albums, Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites (which has seen a much-needed reissue in the past year after too many years OOP) and The Well of Memory, Murmurs & Whispers is more straightforward in expressing its vision of rural celestial wonder. Bucolic and comfortably lived in, Murmurs & Whispers nonetheless projects the transcendent heart of P.G. Six once again, and as ever, it is magnificent to hear it passing through us.
Downstate[34,41 €]
Straight outta Rockaway Beach, Queens, New York City, USA, THE WORLD, Prison is a state of mind, an experience, a loose collective, a band, a jam band and a bunch of psychedelic dudes who aren"t your average bunch of jambanders. All that, all at once, ALL THE TIME. You get what you"re dealing with here? No...you don"t. The only way to REALLY get it is to go to Prison -- and if you"re not from greater NYC and haven"t showed at any of the shows, here"s your best bet: their breakout album, Upstate. And whatta breakout! So high, you can"t get under it; so wide, you can"t get over it! How wide? Every song has two titles, that"s how wide. And almost everybody sings, like, all the time. That wide. Sure, you can break down the numbers -- five guys, five songs and four sides of vinyl in one gatefold sleeve -- but that won"t get you Upstate, either. Prison is the sound of everybody in the room figuring out where to go, individually and collectively. As they go through it, the meaning changes, the destination changes, the words mean something different. It"s meaning and no meaning, rising and falling, sinking and flying on the back of something massive cacophonized by three guitars, four vocals, a bass and drums. A lot of information bouncing around and enough time to really get you out of yourself! Take a look at the titles: each one a dichotomous inquest that the assembled Prison-ers march upon with fervor, glee, vengeance -- a whole spectrum of feels and perspectives woven into the jam for you to see. The Prison population changes with the seasons, and during the season this album was recorded, Sarim Al-Rawi, Mike Fellows, Sam Jayne, Matt Lilly and Paul Major were in Prison. Sarim you might know from Liquor Store, Mike"s made a bunch of scenes and records as Mighty Flashlight, Sam, who passed away in 2020 (R.I.P., brother) was in Love as Laughter -- and Paul Major you know from Endless Boogie, who Matt had roadied for -- and despite being "just a skateboarder who loves music" with no previous experience on the drums, he and Sarim inaugurated the Prison experience, like, seven years ago. Since then, it just fell together and it keeps doing so. A free thing called Prison.
Emil Amos (Grails, OM and podcaster plus) decommissions pieces originally bound for the KPM library. A personal interpolation of "music for films (& television)" expounds upon diverse sounds: synthy 80s soundtracks, contemporary hip-hop beatmaking, ambient music, and The Hulk"s "Lonely Man Theme". Emil"s dark visions are full of noirish shadows and eerie neon glow - mood music for drug trips spent dreaming up new soundtracks to take drugs to! Emil Amos" forthcoming Zone Black album is a fully inhabitable world, its episodic narrative divided into an improbable balance between morbid ambient anthems and insouciant hip-hop instrumentals. Emil hadn"t heard it done quite this way before, so he took it upon himself. And it sounds real! Straight out of Madlib"s kitchen sink, and with a sense of brooding dread, "Jealous Gods" features throbbing beats, low synth paired with high vocal melody, layered together into something even more impossibly bizarre than the sum of their parts - like say, monks singing from on high, over a battleground littered with remnants of the old guard. Emil warps evocative tones, taking familiar sounds into new dimensions, reaching for the kind of depth and resonance that defines moments with an almost invisible touch.
In addition to his day job transforming pop music with his own records, as well as those of Gastr del Sol, Loose Fur and Sonic Youth over the past few decades, Jim O"Rourke has been contracted for several dozen film scores over the years as well. It makes sense - his abilities as an improviser, composer and producer allow him to interpret cinematic moments with a unique understanding for their construction and how they work. It doesn"t hurt that Jim"s a well-versed cineaste, a complete and total fan of watching films, which has given him a preternatural understanding of the role of music in movies. What doesn"t make sense is how Hands That Bind is the first film soundtrack of Jim"s to ever receive worldwide release! He"s worked with filmmakers of international repute, like Olivier Assayas, Allison Anders, Werner Herzog and Kôji Wakamatsu! He served as music consultant on Richard Linklater"s 2003 laff-fest, School of Rock! He"s played in ensembles of award-winning documentaries and films alike! Throw the guy an internationally-promoted soundtrack LP every more often, why doncha? It was left to the "suits" of Drag City Records to innovate, once again, by taking a leap on an O"Rourke work. Made for an indie film that"s been seen by festival audiences and not enough others, the soundtrack for Hands That Bind is a moody, atmospheric delight. Jim"s roots in composition via tape-editing have evolved into a sophisticated assembly of found-and-processed sounds that achieve highly musical, near-orchestral majesty as they hang in the very air of the drama that unfolds in Kyle Armstrong"s Hands That Bind. Described as a "slow-burn prairie gothic drama" set in the farmland of Canada"s Alberta province, and starring Paul Sparks, Susan Kent, Landon Liboiron, Nicholas Campbell, Will Oldham, and Bruce Dern, Hands That Bind is a spellbinding trip to the existential bone of rural working life in North America. As conflict rises over the hard-worked patches of land that provide a mere and mean existence, a desperate air settles in, as a series of mysterious, often supernatural occurrences rock the small community. O"Rourke"s vaporous, serpentine musical backdrops and atmospheres reflect the obsessions and distractions of the film"s principles; moods of all sorts seen or otherwise implied. Additionally, the music highlights cinematographer Mike McLaughlin"s closely observed accounting of the farmers" environment, as well as the striking widescreen images of the big sky country with unnerving flair. For fans of Jim"s ongoing steamroom series as well as collectors of soundtracks, Hands That Bind will provide hours of engrossing listening. And if you get a chance, see the movie projected in a movie house, please - farmers aren"t the only ones struggling these days!
More in tune now with the rhythm of the sun and moon, Xylouris White (Dirty Jim White and George Xylouris) speak to each other across great distances with the intuition and fellowship that can only be found over years in each other"s company. With fewer distractions, appreciative of the freedom to play with new sounds and spaces, they carve The Forest In Me from unbelievably thin air. Once you set the needle down on the record and hear for yourself, the intimacies and impressionism, abstraction and unfiltered emotion found in The Forest In Me, you may wonder what was the mood of the room in which this music came to be. George, Jim and long-time producer (and secret third member) Guy Picciotto share their thoughts: Guy Picciotto: "In late 2019, we had begun taking steps to working on new material. In a haphazard fashion, Jim and I started tracking drums in my basement, cutting them up into shapes with no set landing in mind. Some of it we sent to Giorgos in Crete - he responded with his lyra and his lute. Without intention we had initiated a process that would soon become more ruthlessly mandated by the world events that separated and isolated us to three corners of the globe in the following year." Giorgos Xylouris: "While we were recording, I noticed that the music had a certain solitude about it, both from the title and from inside. That led us to find more music from within that we had not yet discovered." Jim White: "The idea emerged, naturally nourished and nourishing a record with none of our usual angles and themes, no verbal language, no angst nor sudden dynamics, a more subtle structure. And we found The Forest In Me." The first revelation from The Forest In Me is "Latin White", in which Jim"s jaunty pattern sets the stage for George"s Cretan lyra and lute figurations, giving this short dance piece the feel of a welcome hoedown around the campfire, warding off the encroaching darkness of an emptied world. The repetitions, gathered to induce joy, have a glassy-eyed mechanical drive to them; their dervish-istic seeking betrays any suggestion of balm.
Critically-acclaimed, criminally-overachieving Glasgow-based singer and guitarist Alasdair Roberts is known as a superlative original songwriter as well as an interpreter of traditional songs from Scotland and beyond. For the past twenty years, his recordings have alternated between these two complimentary poles, with "pop" records such as The Amber Gatherers and A Wonder Working Stone nestling in his expansive back catalogue alongside "folk" albums such as No Earthly Man and What News (with Amble Skuse and David McGuinness). Additionally, all of these records possess a further dimension, derived from their collation of songs together into one album-length statement. This is part of Alasdair"s great achievement in his career - for him, this thing of music and song hasn"t come the eons it"s travelled to simply entertain. These impulses fully present and well honed, Alasdair returns to his roots with Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall, his fifth full-length collection of traditional song. Recorded live in the studio, it is an entirely solo collection of twelve traditional ballads and songs sparsely arranged for acoustic guitar, piano and voice. The majority of the songs originate in Alasdair"s homeland of Scotland, with a couple from Ireland and one from Prince Edward Island on Canada"s eastern seaboard too. The record takes its title from a line in the final verse of one of its songs, "The Baron o" Brackley" - a ballad of feuding clans and matrimonial betrayal from the north-east of Scotland. Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall: it"s a title which goes some way towards encapsulating many of the record"s themes. Collectively the songs treat of various conflicts and tensions - those of gender; of class, status and position; and of geography and tribal belonging - and the roles and responsibilities expected at the various intersections of these constructs. That we should never forget! As with many of Alasdair"s recordings, Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall contains ballads aplenty: tragic ("Bob Norris"), supernatural ("The Holland Handkerchief") and dramatic ("Eppie Morrie"). There are love songs ("The Lichtbob"s Lassie") and anti-love songs ("Kilbogie"). There are rare, seldom-heard pieces ("Young Airly") and much more well-known ones ("Mary Mild," a version of "The Queen"s Four Maries"). Woven through all of this - a thread of levity, perhaps - is a triptych of zoological allegories - a panegyric to a mystical steed ("The Wonderful Grey Horse"), a lament for a lost cow ("Drimindown") and a paean to a regal waterbird ("The Bonny Moorhen"), which serves to highlight the intersection of the mythic, the eternal and the mundane at which we all find ourselves in every day of our life on Earth. Grief In the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall was masterfully recorded by Sam Smith at Green Door Studios, Glasgow over an economical two days, and mixed in one day. Its brevity on all levels is an aspect of its expression. Alasdair"s renowned acoustic fingerstyle guitar is understated yet questing, ever in service to the needs of the song, underpinning his soulful tenor voice. Three songs eschew his habitual acoustic guitar in favour of simple piano arrangements. The spare setting and Alasdair"s deeply committed performance gently reminds of the meanings and melodies of these old songs, chosen instinctively and with care, for all to hear and sing in 2023, and the world beyond that is ever coming.
It"s 2023, and even the turn of century seems a long time ago now - but oddly, Purling Hiss"s guitar-band ethos feels ever more timeless. The Hiss aren"t just a simple part of the tradition going back 50-odd years Their DNA, pulsing in waves of punk and classic radio rock, grunge and slacker, is ineffably, re-singably music - but their signature crushed guitar harmonics, fused with deep soulfulness, meld into something that cuts us with fresh heartbreak, an eternal recurrence that seems to be happening right now today, as it pours off the turntable and runs down the street. Drag On Girard, the first Purling Hiss album in six years, cruises through these states of mind and places in time. As before, but with new twists, Mike Polizze and his gang let loose with the chaos and noise implied by their name, applying high-end splatter and slow-rolling low end to eight vehicles, running the gamut from gleaming pop gems to head-cleaning epic jams before they"re done. One of the unique qualities of Drag On Girard is a specific lead-rhythm arrangement of the guitars, emitting the expected formidable roar while setting a certain type of rhythmic strut for the band. The two guitars style also trips power-pop impulses in the tunes, with sung-along harmony vocals that evoke classic collective magic and burnish the tunes one by one. Once this vibe"s established, side two turns around and stretches out with the molten flow of Purling Hiss at their very most epic; couched within loose improvisatory structures, the title track and "Shining Gilded Boulevard" play further with the yin/yang of nostalgia and truth as they trade places looking meditatively back to them old days and all their harshness and beauty.
"And we"re coming out of dreams / And we"re coming back to dreams" is the first thing you hear Bill say as you remake your acquaintance on YTILAER. Right out the gate, he"s standing in two places at once: meeting up with old friends behind the scenes and encountering them on the record, finding himself coming round the bend and then again as someone else on down the line. Like the character actor he played on Gold Record, writing stories about other people, telling jokes about everyone, and in singing them, becoming the songs. "You do what you"ve got to do / To see the picture" Bill"s got a full band sound going on this one, with him and Matt Kinsey on guitars, Emmett Kelly on bass and backing vocals, Sarah Ann Phillips on B3, piano and backing vocals and Jim White on drums. Jim and Matt sing on one song, too, and some other singers come in, too. Bill plays some synth here and there, and Carl Smith drifts in and out of the picture with his contra alto clarinet, as do Mike St. Clair and Derek Phelps on brass. Somehow in between them all, you might think you hear the distant sound of a steel guitar. And you might - but you might not, too. In this company, Bill continues his journey, tunneling underneath the weathered exterior of what seems to be and into the more nuanced life everything takes on in the dark. With Bill"s voice making the extraordinary leaps and bounds that measure the lives of the songs, the band follow him through passages that seem to invent themselves; other times playing with deeply soulful grooves and/or desperate intensity, as these moments come and go. There"s nothing they can"t do. "I wrote this song in five and forever / I"m writing it right now" Bill sings on "Natural Information" - an admission of the everyday alchemy he"s forever trafficking in. Time passes, triangulating the encounters that went into any one record with two out of any three others, all of it made flesh, new constitution, in our stereo speakers. If every album is its own life, it stands to reason that they"re invariably passing in the night. Cascading images flowing from the stream of consciousness. Turning like pages from the journal, unspeakably personal, then suddenly become tall tales, like a book pulled off the shelf, completely unbound. Headlines flow through. Mirror images, mirthful ones. Bill"s lyrics strain at the lines on the page, not content to separate the printing of the fact from the myth or be confined to ink on paper. They want to fly free. And they do. "I realize now that dreams are real" On YTILAER"s inner sleeve, alongside his lyrics, Bill celebrates the "exhilaration and dread" of cover artist Paul Ryan"s paintings. Paul"s another one met up with again down the road, his indelible cover imagery on Apocalypse and Dream River now an axis of meaning in the Callahanian world - and in the bright colors found in these new images, a parallel to Bill"s recognitions here. "A breath of exquisite air as we come up from drowning", sounds like the desired hope for those hearing the songs of YTILAER.
Meg Baird’s songs are rarely made up of tidy stories. In fact, for Meg, mystery itself is often the
medium. With ‘Furling’, Meg’s fourth album under her own name, she explores the breadth of
her musical fascinations and the environments around them - the edges of memory,
daydreams spanning years, loose ends, loss, divergent paths, and secret conversations under
stars. ‘Furling’ moves through these varied spaces with the slippery, misty cohesiveness of a
dream - guided by an ageless, stirring voice that remains singular and unmistakable.
Since co-founding the beguiling and beautiful Espers in the mid-aughts amid Philadelphia’s
fertile underground music community, Meg’s solo recordings have constituted just a fraction of
her work.
Her first solo LP, the disarmingly out-of-time ‘Dear Companion’ (2007), saw her carve a quiet,
sunlit space away from the flickering swirl of Espers. Since her last solo releases, ‘Seasons on
Earth’ (2011) and ‘Don’t Weigh Down the Light’ (2015), Meg has lent thunderous drumming,
lead vocal, and poetry to Heron Oblivion (Sub Pop) on an album that garnered praise from the
New York Times and made Mojo’s Top Ten Albums Of 2016 list. She collaborated with harpist
Mary Lattimore on the mesmerizingly hazy ‘Ghost Forests’ (2018). She’s played drums with
Philadelphia scuzz-punks Watery Love (In The Red, Richie Records) and explored her deep
familial folk roots in the Baird Sisters (Grapefruit Records). She also contributed her vocal
arrangements to albums from Sharon Van Etten, Kurt Vile, Will Oldham and Steve Gunn, and
toured with Angel Olson, Dinosaur Jr., Bill Callahan, Thurston Moore and Bert Jansch, among
others.
Yet ‘Furling’ is the album that most irreverently explores the span of her work and musical
touchstones. It showcases her natural tether to 1960s English folk traditions. But it also reveals
her deep love for soul balladry, the solitary musings of Flying Saucer Attack and Neil Young
shackled to his piano deep in the foggy pre-dawn, dubby Bristol atmospherics, the melancholy
memory collage of DJ Shadow’s ‘Endtroducing’, and the delicious, Saturday night promise of
St. Etienne.
‘Furling’ was primarily recorded at Louder Studios by Tim Green (Bikini Kill, Nation of Ulysses,
Melvins, Wooden Shjips). Additional piano and vocal recording were captured at Panoramic
Studios in Stinson Beach, CA with Jason Quever (Papercuts). It was mastered in Brooklyn by
Heba Kadry, who mixed Bjork’s ‘Utopia’ and mastered albums for Slowdive, Cass McCombs
and Beach House.
For all its adornments, ‘Furling’ remains deeply intimate. The entire album was performed by
Meg and her long-time collaborator, partner, and Heron Oblivion bandmate Charlie Saufley.
While her prior solo work hinted at more expansive horizons, ‘Furling’ explores the idea of Meg
Baird as a band much more freely. Venturing beyond the musical confines of fingerstyle guitar,
she plays drums, mellotron, organs, synths, and vibraphone over her piano and guitar
foundations. Her distinctive, simultaneously elegiac and uplifting vocals, meanwhile, connect
surreal dream montages, graft sunshine sonics to swooning mediations on romantic solidarity
in trying times, and weave odes to the simple gestures of friendship - and the loss of family and
friends.
This rich sound world makes the songs a varied bunch: ‘Twelve Saints’ mates Pacific sunset
ambience and Pink Floyd pastoral to a meditation on mortality and escape. The infectious and
kinetic ‘Will You Follow Me Home’ contemplates hope and longing through the looking glass of
a Jimmy Miller-era-Stones strut. And in the closing piece, ‘Wreathing Days’, language
disintegrates over tone clusters that feel somewhere between falling and flying.
‘Wreathing Days’ also reveals much about Meg’s mastery of contrast - situating the dear and
delicate adjacent to chaos. And while it’s true that some songs on ‘Furling’ grapple with
humanity’s existential unknowns in stark terms, they primarily revel in the mysteries that hide in
nature and humanity at their most ordinary. ‘Furling’ lives in the notion that whole universes of
experience, enlightenment, elation and ecstasy can bloom in these corners.
Barely heard in his lifetime (1961-2002) but hailed as an outsider hero of ur-punk since 2009’s ‘Cosmic Lightning’ compilation, J.T. IV strikes back!
15 unheard-of tracks found on an obscure cassette tape make the schizo split in his music - rabid rock & roll fantasy and cold-eyed acoustic introspection - an epic. ‘The Future’ is J.T. IV’s mad magnum opus.
The 2009 comp LP, ‘Cosmic Lightning’, cast his tragic silhouette up on the big screen
for all to see: the lost boy, alone in the world, standing before the mic and releasing
his inner star with glee and vengeance, his antisocial visions flying high atop a raging
funnel of distorted guitars and blunt rhythms. Or couched, childlike, within a heart
breaking billow of acoustic guitars - a schizophrenic split that only magnifies the
display of his deep emotions.
‘The Future’ goes even further, excavating fifteen recordings from a previously
unheard-of cassette entitled ‘The Best Of Johnny Zhivago Retrospective 1979–1993’,
and adding four more uncollected tracks from his slim (and impossible to find
anyway) discography.
Of these nineteen tracks, eight are covers - and J.T. IV’s picks, from Velvets to Mott
the Hoople, Roxy Music, Lee Hazlewood, The Kinks, Eno and Stephen Sondheim,
sharpen our image of the misfit adrift; on the outside looking in, but maybe just a few
steps away from his goal.
‘The Future’ unfolds like an epic, as both sides of J.T.’s persona - the street-smart,
damaged rocker and the heart struck poet of the scene - live on together in the best
performances of his short career.
A punk of the old order, John Henry Timmis IV was born in 1961 into a dysfunctional,
abusive and eventually broken family. By the mid-70s, he was desperate to get out,
running away from his mother’s home several times while still a teenager living in the
greater Chicagoland area. At wit’s end, she had him committed to the Menninger
Clinic for a year or so. Released on his own reconnaissance, he began his meteoric
ascent to the mythic level of self-aggrandizement in which he appears here. Inspired
by the underground, proto-punk sounds in the air (the likes of which any sharp-eyed
young thing might chance upon in the back pages of Creem, Crawdaddy, Trouser
Press, etc.) and desperate to be heard himself, J.T. presented like the scabby
younger brother of Bangs and Laughner: born only to rock, his musical conception a
rabid personality crisis of proselyte elitism and nihilist excess.
Now, 20 years on from his passing, ‘The Future’ is ever farther away from the world
in which he struggled so mightily - but his stinging iconoclasm, whether screamed
from Marshall amps or mic-ed up close, feels ever more powerfully infused with his
unique breadth of illness and essence.
These songs represent the two sides of J.T. - and while they emanate from the 80s,
they find themselves potently renewed in the polarized world of today, making ‘The
Future’ a worthwhile destination for everyone who ever had a heart touched by the
transgression and freedom promised by rock & roll.
Cassette[13,87 €]
Formed in 2014 in Chicago by partners Joshua Condon
and Eliza Weber, Glyders have kept busy, lighting up
shows around town and country ever since then with their
mystery sound, on the road when and where they could
from here to Europe, taking time also to self-release a
couple of EPs (‘DIM’ and ‘Lend a Hand’).
Fuelled by Josh’s spectral vocals and the liquidity created
by his guitar and Eliza’s bass, Glyders’ mazy spacecraft
takes to the air from the empty parking lot out back of the
roadhouse and finds in its arc an anodyne of the trippy and
the wiggy / ghostly places lost and found. Glyders have it
both ways, rocking the white line with fervour but also
stopping to soak up the fragrance of the purple sage and
the queen of the night by the side of the road.
They’ve cut their records at home, with Josh delving deep
in the pleasures of analogue recording, finding the
embodiment of their subterranean fascinations with twists
and turns of the dial in a space they’ve dubbed the Juicy
Lagoon. Steeped in the pop and psychedelic enigmas of
rock and roll yore, the buzzing of tubes and transients and
uncontainable rumble, Glyders make it shake and live in
front of the tape machine and real audiences alike with a
flexible, expansive palette of sounds and a tight bunch of
songs.
For their first vinyl full-length, the watchword, as ever, is
‘maximal minimal’. These kids are up around the bend and
in it for the long haul. After a few line-up shifts over the
years, they’re settled down with drummer Joe Seger and
are fixing their sights on the far horizons. If you see
Glyders choogling down the track, pull up and get set for
‘Maria’s Hunt’.
Bill Nace"s Through a Room represents a seismic progression from Both, his startling 2020 debut solo LP for Drag City. Nace"s career has been defined by a relentless probing of ways to frame the complex menu of human emotions, and that the guitar has been his primary tool for exploring this terrain is of little consequence. On this new release, he also employs tapes, hurdy gurdy, doughnut pipe, quelle est belle, as well as his latest instrument of choice, taishogoto. This is also, ultimately, insignificant. What matters is the discerning spirit which animates his work. The tracks are carefully built from loops and phrases that talk to each other, subsume one another, overlapping and crashing and diving and expanding and emerging into unimagined vistas. On the whole, the record offers a fascinating and engrossing chronicle - a sequence of interrelated stories told by a temporally dislodged narrator. You think you"re here, then you"re there, and then you go through trapdoors and along tunnels, into cellars and secret rooms, and you find that actually you"re back where you started. But it"s not hard to follow. Trust me. Nothing this enticing can be hard to follow. The record was recorded and edited in Philadelphia during the uncertain summer of 2021 with engineer and co-producer Cooper Crain. Where Both was a chiseling down of spontaneous live performance, Through a Room, while obviously the work of the same artist, treats its sounds as building blocks, combining them to mesmerizing effect. What"s striking is the poise, the degree of authorial intensity. The false dichotomy of composition and improvisation is thoroughly and rightfully abolished. Bill"s interests range from post-punk to post-industrial to hip-hop to free jazz to avant-garde composition, and every area between such unhelpful labels. From the inscrutable, evocative track titles to the enticingly baffling cover art by his longtime compatriot Daniel Higgs, Nace is guided by an ineffable, internal muse, a persistently personal stormcloud of ideas that, ultimately, comprise that thing we call art. Here"s the real deal. - Matt Krefting, Holyoke, 2022
It’s almost four years since their last opus - two years since the most-recent run
of live shows. Now, Bitchin Bajas return from whatever kind of rare ether they
occupy when they’re at home, bearing the riches of the whole cosmos in their
hands. And strictly OG as well - on cassette only.
‘Switched On Ra’ is the outcome of a typical Bajas exercise: pouring some out
for the pioneers that came before (as they’ve done with Bitchitronics and their
participation in the annual Chicago performance of ‘In C’ over the years). It’s a
nice way to get a flow - they play a little of themselves, then some for the
pioneers, then a little more for the band. Before long, they’re playing with the
inspirations twined, as they can only come from within.
For ‘Switched On Ra’, this meant a deep delve into the song-book of one of their
soul-predecessors, Sun Ra, whose music is literally written in the Bajas DNA.
Digging into this music sounded wild on paper: the drone synth group taking on
the Arkestra harmonies and Ra’s loose grooves? The trick was to get that sense
of rhythm to translate across the spectrum from Ra to Bajas, in a way that
worked for them both.
Their rearrangements of the tunes went good - up and down the EQ band, they
were finding the round sounds and jagged edges that brought Ra’s music into
their own thing. Then at the last minute, there was another twist - why not pay
tribute to the Queen herself, and think of the arrangements with a Wendy Carlos
vibe? A little side homage? After all, ‘Switched on Bach’ was visionary, bringing
analogue synths from the outside all the way into the mainstream in the late 60s -
and this take on Ra is meant to take him to new ears everywhere.
Sun Ra of course was his own kind of original keyboard visionary, using electric
keyboards in the late 40s and 50s to fill a role in jazz that had traditionally been
played on acoustic piano only. Once he’d done so, he took his writing in
directions inspired by the electricity, places no one had thought to go before
then.
Bitchin Bajas have been content to dominate in a microtonal world, usually
without a single chord to be found anywhere. But here, they step up righteously,
their vibe triangulated as they bring Ra’s music forward with some Wendy C
style, making an unexpected space for all to thrive. There’s a real feeling of joy
as these collected signals bounce off the tape and through the speakers into
your space.
To get this unique colloid exactly right, Bitchin Bajas used nineteen different
keyboards. They abstained from deploying their arsenal of reed and woodwind
instruments: everything had to be on the keys. This meant Yamahas, Rolands,
Korgs, Casios, a MicroMoog and of course their trusty Ace Tone organ. They
even broke out the Crumar DS-2, to have some of Ra’s chosen tone in the mix.
Then Jayve Montgomery added an EWI as a solo voice on a few tunes, just to
get some air-blown signal (and a natural shout out to EWI master Marshall Allen)
in there, after all. It felt like somewhere in the universe, Ra was decreeing it.
Since 2014, Wand have made five albums (and an EP) in the studio and a living playing on the road. Business/pleasure: the two sides of their (multiverticed, decagon) coin, flipping in the strobe light of ongoing self actualization. And yet, by doing both at the same time-making a record of them playing live-they"ve now made their best one yet. How do you get Spiders In the Rain? Start by going all the way back to January 2020. Do you remember? Wand do. They"d been touring Laughing Matter for ten months. They"d done the coast, spanned the country, crossed the water twice, came back home and kept on going...driving, flying, occasionally floating (or maybe just thinking they were?), always on to the next town. They did all kinds of shows-clubs, ballrooms, festival gigs with no roof overhead-the songs expanding and contracting according to the dimensions of each day. Seventy-nine shows, and everything that was involved-the miles that ran beneath them, the different places and people everywhere, the music as it reathed, making everyone change every night-alchemized the band, and they drove deeper into their far horizon than they"d ever previously gone. The essential truth of the live vibe-that it"s always better when everybody"s here-was clear, so they booked a few shows more in Cali, from L.A. up to Marin. They brought along light and projections from The Mad Alchemist Liquid Light Show and Mike Kreibel and Zac Hernandez too, to tape everything-to get the big-deck energy out of performances in S.F. and L.A., but also to draw it out of the margins in Sacramento, Novato and Big Sur. It all happened, too. Everyone brought their experience. Packaged sumptuously with artwork from Sam Klickner, Spiders In the Rain is an arc of natural beauty and man-made abstraction inside and out, on an epic scale. Wand are orchestra and machine on Spiders In the Rain, one with the audience, able to get inside any dimension of their sound, whether its songs from their second album or their last one.
First thought, best thought. Until the next thought: a guiding principle for No Age in the 16ish years they've been around. Constantly responding to their own streams of consciousness with reductive flexibility, they've taken the basic duo of guitar and drums with vocals WAY farther than anyone listening in halcyon Weirdo Rippers days could have guessed. Expounding on those larval possibilities, they've zig-zagged in serpentine precision, in and out of the teeth of the wringer - ranging outside and back in again, as befits the present thought. And now, six albums into it, these principles have led them to make People Helping People. Composed in their studio of ten years in the "pre pandemic" times, then an eviction from said space, and finished deep in the midst at their new basecamp: Randy's Garage. It starts with an instrumental, too. First counter-intuition, best counter intuition! Nearly five minutes prelude Dean's debut vocal interjection - a zoom in from the upper atmosphere, Randy's guitar clouds pulsing with radiation, paced by spare, percussive accents. When the first song with singing ("Compact Flashes") bounces in on an insane synthetic beat, the only recognizable sound of No Age is a sputtering of enchanted clicks and creaks - muted guitar strings and drumkit rattlings that cycle for a full minute before voice song and snare fall into place. This is the sound of People Helping People: No Age, deep in the lab, scraping available nuclii together to see what new compound they find next. Erasing the starting points, reordering the pieces and beginning anew. It's an everyday mindset - and as the first No Age album recorded entirely by No Agee, People Helping People is a broadcast of entirely lived-in proportions. Side one ricochets expertly back and forth between magisterial instrumentals and sing-song forms cut up on the mixing desk, as with the undeniable hitness of "Plastic (You Want It)", winningly rewired to MIDI-mangled beat squelches. They don't really land on a straight up punk-style riff until it's almost time to flip the side, and even once they've got off on a run of rockers on side B, their aesthetic choices continuously reframe the norms, enhancing their inherent power. People Helping People finds their disparate desires operating in perfect sync; prolegomenic weirdness fused immaculately to classic rock propulsion, transforming the energy pouring out from their hands and feet with electronics. Dean's lyrics are like pieces taken off the belt at the factory and put together into a John Chamberlin-esque sculpture, meant to sit out in the rain. Randy's guitars, collaged into arrangements that reflect, again, boundless curiosity and exquisite restraint. This is People Helping People: unpretentious, suspicious, inviting, confident, left field. The most accurate display of the No Age ethos put to record. Yet!
For their Drag City debut, the enigmatic duo expand into eight-armed wonder; all the better to reach ever-deeper into their bag o' tricks. Slinky and sliding elegantly, the kids forge tunes with a harmony of ambiguity and nostalgia, effortless yet precise, and rounded with thick bottom - a dancing clash of cognition and dissonance! Since 2015, Kamikaze Palm Tree have been a relative mystery. Now, in times no less mysterious, Drag City welcomes them, celebrating the energy of their second LP, where KPT play their offbeat strain of 21st century rock. Making MINT CHIP, Dylan Hadley and Cole Berliner reach deeper into their bag of tricks than ever before, dialoguing with an absurd shared intent they haven't yet paused to question. The off-center pieces gathered together for Good Boy have given way to pulsing aquatic compositions on MINT CHIP. Cole's guitar tones, wire thin, bell-like, bluesily downtuned, slinky and sliding elegantly, arc purposeful around their peripherals. Dylan's kit work, effortless yet precise, grounded with heavy bottom, drives and interacts organically with all the emerging structure, nailing down finely detailed frames and canvases to backdrop her singing and the unremitting landing of melodies and songs. With the addition of Josh Puklavetz, things that didn't make sense before - like bass - are now on the beach, fully lotioned, essence to essence. Violin and clarinet (Laena Myers Ionita and Brad Caulkins, respectively) round out the tonal spectrum. All strung together in the foothills of Altadena's Wiggle World Studios with Hartling back in the engineer's seat and Tim Presley producing the proceedings!
Tossing down straight acoustic shots with electric guitar back, Hello, Hi rides through the valley of yer ol' Canyon legends, finding an isolated place to unspool Ty's copious reserves of nervous energy beneath an open sky. Swarms of harmony vocals caper among the clouds, but there's a rider on the horizon behind, with crossbow trained on his very own heart - the engine driving all the relationships of life, whether down Broadway or over the cliffs at night! Whatever doesn't get killed is getting stronger all the time. A lean, mean deal, baked in saltwater and sunlight, compassion pouring out it's beautiful blue eyes.
40-plus years since its original release, the pop-punk-new wave inventions of Anthony
Moore’s ‘Flying Doesn’t Help’ are freshly remastered, blasting the sparkling, angular
sounds into today with perfect vitality.
After spending the early years of the 1970s making experimental music first as a solo
artist, then with Slapp Happy and Henry Cow, 1976’s ‘OUT’ sessions had reinvigorated
Anthony’s youthful love of the naive pop melodies of pop radio, the undeniable excitement
of songs. While ‘OUT’ ultimately went unreleased at the time, the iconoclasm clouding the
late ’70s air was addictive and transformative for Anthony. England seemed to be roiled
as violently as it had been in counter-cultural days a decade earlier; the UK pop charts
breathlessly reflected the changing spectrum with equal parts aging hippie and prog
delicacies alongside new ascendant sounds: rough-hewn pub and punk rock, plus dub
reggae and disco and ska and Stiff and Krautrock. This proved to be an ideal environment
for Anthony to make records by exploring, as he puts it, the “deep connection between
minimalism, repetition, working with tape and celluloid and forming the modules of a
three-minute pop song.”
Caught up in a no-holds-barred era, Anthony was more than happy to play the out-of-hishead madman, raving through outrageous exchanges with the press, while ‘Judy Get
Down’ received Single Of The Week honours from the NME (with review penned by Brian
Eno). Represented by Blackhill Enterprises, Anthony did production work throughout
1978-1979, on Kevin Ayers’ ‘Rainbow Takeaway’, Manfred Mann’s Earth Band’s ‘Angel
Station’ and the first This Heat album, meanwhile cutting his own songs on a dead time
deal at Workhouse Studio with engineer / producer Laurie Latham. Through the wee
hours of countless nights, the two pieced together ‘Flying Doesn’t Help’, with a little help
from friends (an inspired bunch, including Bob Shilling, Charles Hayward, Chris Slade,
Robert Vogel, Festus, Matt Irving, Sam Harley, Bernie Clark, Edwin Cross and Martine
Moore on the telephone).
Building upon the axis of pop and experimental impulses that distinguished ‘OUT’, and
informed further by the raw sensibilities exploding everywhere, ‘Flying Doesn’t Help’
blasts out of the speakers with its own unique blend of sophistication and aggression,
Anthony’s keyboard flashes between arpeggiations and outright stabs among the noise of
slicing guitars, funk basslines and the reverbed blare of the drumkit. Opening with
Anthony’s greatest hit, ‘Judy Get Down’, and containing a noise-laden remake of the
Slapp Happy/Henry Cow number, ‘War’, among other delightful sweet-and-salty
confections, ‘Flying Doesn’t Help’ never stops moving, fuelled with raw outrage and dark
satirical intent, churning with the energy of next-gen types like Tubeway Army and DEVO,
while shimmering with the elegance of the still-challenging old guard types, like Cale and
Bowie.
Clearly, ‘Flying Doesn’t Help’ was steeped in the time, and the original release reflected a
deep mistrust of the corporation mindset. Information was a dubious concept, and
connections to any recognizable organization were seen as untrustworthy, so facts like
musician credits were left out of the package, and even Anthony’s name was altered (he
was credited as A. More on the album and Tony More on a single release). The label
name QUANGO was conceptual as well, standing for ‘Quasi Autonomous NonGovernmental Organization’; each record was sealed with red tape that the listener was
required to cut through in order to get to the music. Rather than recreate the conditions of
the original release of ‘Flying Doesn’t Help’, this reissue instead embraces the changed
environment of the current time and place: instead of no credits, now they are complete,
with Anthony’s full name restored and even the artwork subtly ‘relocated’ to reflect a new
set of relationships. All of which brings the forward-looking sounds of ‘Flying Doesn’t Help’
into the more independent-minded 21st Century syntax where it belongs.
