DRAG CITY Новости

 Ty Segall meets a new non-rock challenge head-on; soundtrack music for
Matt Yoka’s compelling documentary film ‘Whirlybird’. A variety of synth
sounds, electric keyboards, drums, percussion and saxophone (and yeah, a
few guitars) form a shifting impressionist counterpart, instrumental music that
dialogues with and serves to frame the film’s compulsive themes and
images.
 Released to great acclaim in Summer 2021, ‘Whirlybird’ tells the story of
Zoey Tur and Marika Gerrard, former partners and founders of the Los
Angeles News Service, and deftly tracks their extraordinary and oftenreckless pursuit of breaking news throughout the 80s and 90s - a time in
which they pioneered the use of a helicopter to report on Los Angeles at its
most chaotic, capturing historical moments like the 1992 riots and the OJ
Simpson slow speed pursuit.
 Through striking interviews and one-of-a-kind archival footage, Yoka’s
documentary expertly tells the story of Zoey and Marika’s unravelling
marriage as they singlehandedly changed broadcast news forever. These
two arcs intertwine to create an electric view of the encroaching intensities of
that era, when the 24-hour news cycle first rose to dominate our national
consciousness.
 Ty Segall has previously scored scenes and interstitial bits for film and video
things here and there - but this is his first full-on feature film score, a work
done in collaboration with the director, whose friendship and creative
partnership with Ty has grown over a decade-plus of music videos and other
projects. Working off notes and feels from Matt and responding to the images
and story on screen, Ty crafted some of his most creative arrangements to
date, using synth, drum machine, Wurlitzer keyboard, guitars, drums and
percussion (plus saxes played by Mikal Cronin, who also cowrote the title
track with Ty) to articulate a multitude of tones running through the film.
 For a shape-shifter like Ty, this apex of tone colour is no mean feat, an
achievement further highlighted by the full set of pieces. Rather than simply
throw a bunch of songs-with-singing at the project, Ty’s score perfectly
epitomizes the film’s ethos, providing an instrumental counterpart that
dialogues with and helps frame the film’s provocative themes and images.
 As both Matt and Ty are natives to the Southern Californian milieu,
particularly the era ‘Whirlybird’ depicts, their collaboration involved a journey
through their past. In realizing the music, they revisited their own Los
Angeles awakenings, adding another personal layer to the deeply felt
meditations and elegies sighted by the remarkable ‘Whirlybird’ - now an
equally thrilling counterpart to be experienced through the original
soundtrack.

Box set of seven 7”s containing three unreleased tracks, plus remastered songs originally released on the Sinai, ZamZam and Drag City labels.

 With their duo debut, Dean Spunt and John Wiese invite you to experience
the frenzy of percussive space and discreet sound found inside ‘The Echoing
Shell’.
 This is the first official collaboration between the two veteran music-makers,
though their connection goes back to 1999. As John recalls, “Dean was in a
high school arts program at CalArts. A friend and I were recording the first
Sissy Spacek demo in the design studios there, and taking a tape to my car
over and over again to check the mix. Dean was walking through the parking
lot with a Locust shirt on, we said hello, and he immediately got into a car
with two strangers to ‘listen to a tape’.”
 The tape-listening ended well, apparently. Dean and John became friends
and fellow travellers in LA circles and beyond: in 2005, John did a remix for
Dean’s first band, Wives; in 2007, Dean played percussion with Sissy
Spacek’s 13-Tet Los Angeles; John toured with No Age several times and
collaborated live with them in 2010.
 Under the Sissy Spacek name as well as his own, John’s recordings for his
own Helicopter label and many others kicked things off for him around the
end of the century; since then, he’s been constantly engaged in solos and
collaborations on record, performances, and installations around the world.
 In addition to Dean’s ever-growing discography with No Age, he curates his
own label, Post Present Medium. In 2018, Radical Documents released
Dean’s solo debut ‘EE Head’, which explored concrète and experimental
techniques in a four-part, album length piece.
 ‘The Echoing Shell’ is born of Dean and John’s shared understanding, using
John’s process common to Sissy Spacek: elaborate sound-collage works
using source material originating from punk, hardcore and improvised music.
A series of impositions, tape manipulation and edits recompose the material,
cracking open the crust of the source, freeing its implied guts to steam forth
in gushes of extreme noise. On ‘The Echoing Shell’, this is as often noise as
it is extreme intimacy, seeming at times to be sourced from within Dean’s
drumkit, at other times appearing to emanate from the capsules of
microphones and the circuits of the signal path itself.
 One may read these collaged sounds as abstraction, but there is a unique
language conveyed in their assembly, forming something like word-shapes
and meaning. And intention: the two side-long pieces, comprised of many
short sections, form a linear whole, creating alternately ripping and
discriminating music - and meaning - in the process.
 ‘The Echoing Shell’ is a fantastic conception in contemporary musique
concrète, combining incendiary post-rock power, dry humour and astonishing
depth of field. Whether projecting the sound through headphones, ear buds,
bookshelf speakers or your own personal amp stack, crank up ‘The Echoing
Shell’.

"A coalition of inescapable feelings and fabricated nonsense," is how Cate Le Bon described her fourth studio album, Crab Day. A few years prior to its 2016 release, Cate’s mother unearthed her birth certificate, and admitted to her daughter that they'd had her birthday a day off for nearly three decades. That sense of misaligned reality is the guiding force on Crab Day, where Cate establishes a strange, almost Dadaist lyrical scheme to make sense—or make more nonsense—of some unnamed life rupture that's left her grasping.

The Blind Date Party hosted by Bill Callahan and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy
and featuring AZITA, Matt Sweeney, Alasdair Roberts, Matt Kinsey,
Sean O’Hagan, Bill MacKay, George Xylouris, Dead Rider, David Pajo,
Mick Turner, Meg Baird, Ty Segall, Emmett Kelly, Cory Hanson, Six
Organs of Admittance, David Grubbs, Cassie Berman, Cooper Crain and
Sir Richard Bishop happened online in the autumn and winter of 2020 -
2021 but the party planning dated back to the spring of 2020.
 Stuck at home, with no gigs in the foreseeable future, Bill, Bonnie and
Drag City needed an outreach program to keep themselves busy, not to
mention sane. In the absence of any company or anything on the
calendar, playing songs they loved was an idea; playing with people they
loved, the desire. And making it fun - so pairing someone with someone
else having no say in the matter, the essence of the blind date, was the
plan. Favourite songs were chosen; players from around the Drag City
galaxy were messaged. Pretty soon, songs were flying back and forth -
music in the air.
 By autumn, the songs started to appear online: Bill and Bonnie singing a
song by someone they loved and admired; each song cut by another
artist they loved and admired, then sent to Bill and Bonnie to provide the
finishing touches. The spotlight pointed in every direction each week:
toward the singers and writers who’d originally played the songs (Yusuf
Islam, Hank Williams Jr., Dave Rich, The Other Years, Billie Eilish,
Steely Dan, Lou Reed, Bill Callahan, Jerry Jeff Walker, Robert Wyatt,
Lowell George, Johnnie Frierson, Air Supply, Will Oldham, Leonard
Cohen, David Berman, Iggy Pop and John Prine), toward their featured
collaborators, the artists whose artwork adorned each digital single and
videos made by still more collaborators.
 Like the best parties, it turned out to be everything and more than they’d
even hoped for. So many more people were involved in the process that
would on the page here. Suffice to say, making records over the years
has required a broad sense of community and an always-surprising mix
of independence and unity, inspiration and utility. Some of the best
memories are those where as many of our folks as possible were
together in one place at one time. The Blind Date Party was one of
these, maybe the most improbable one yet. It’s for everyone who’s here
and it’s in the name of everyone who’s gone but will never go and will
always live with us here. This album will too.

Far View’ is a compilation of tracks from Joel Vandroogenbroeck’s series of library
music releases for the Coloursound label, a uniquely trippy catalogue of music
vignettes long overdue for their day in the library music sun, remastered from the
original analogue reels.
 The late Joel Vandroogenbroeck was among the rare breed of musicians who defy
all categorization, using music conventions to explore the far reaches of human and
cosmic consciousness. After passing through the jazz and rock worlds from the
1950s through the ‘70s, Joel found new outlets for his expansive vision in the ‘80s
with the Swiss library music label Coloursound. ‘Far View’ draws tracks from these
releases, which form a unique entry in the genre of library music. For the uninitiated,
this is just one way to begin a brilliant musical trip through Vandroogenbroeck’s
undersung career.
 A musical prodigy from youth, Joel arrived at Brussels’ classical Music Conservatory
in the early ‘50s, but his studies were curtailed by the revelation of jazz. Soon, Joel
was touring in groups around Europe and beyond with luminaries like Eje Thelin,
Stan Getz, Bob Brookmeyer and Zoot Sims. As time passed, his musical
consciousness continued to expand: time spent in Africa sparked a deep exploration
of the music of the Middle East. The new rock sounds from England, like The Beatles
and Jimi Hendrix, were mind-blowing. And from Germany came the krautrockers,
with something completely else again.
 Vibing on the eclectic energies of the day, Vandroogenbroeck formed Brainticket,
whose approach to composition fused jazz, rock and a mélange of global musical
traditions, combining a Western rhythm section and analogue synthesizers with an
astonishing array of acoustic instruments; ethnic flutes, sitar, harp, kalimba and all
manner of percussion. Steeped in diverse approaches of playing and listening,
Brainticket drew from prog rock and psych, traditional sounds and minimalist music,
all of which passed through their hands like the tributaries that formed the basis of
what would soon be known as New Age music.
 In the late 1970s, Vandroogenbroeck began composing for sound libraries, with
recordings to be used as underlay music in films, radio and television. Gunter
Greffenius’ Coloursound Library was formed in 1979 with an inclusive vision of
music, including experimental, progressive rock, and some of the earliest examples
of ambient music - styles not well represented in other libraries. Coloursound gave
Joel the freedom to create music in any style or genre, and over the next decadeplus, he embarked on a musical journey that is unmatched anywhere in the world of
library music. Working under the pseudonyms VDB, his output on Coloursound is
some of his most sublime and otherworldly - ranging from dark electronics to
imagined music of the ancient past to ethereal ambient sounds of the future, which
makes sense, as Joel’s records were always ahead and in and out of their time.
 Joel VandroogenbroeckJ passed away in in December 2019, while work was being
done assembling this collection. Curated by David Hollander, whose ‘Unusual
Sounds’ album and book of the same name delightfully explore the library music
world, ‘Far View’ draws from ten of Joel’s Coloursound albums with lovely cohesion.
Featuring brilliantly remastered sound, liner notes from David Hollander, album art
designed by Robert Beatty and reproductions of the Coloursound album jackets, ‘Far
View’ is an entry point to Joel Vandroogenbroek’s mind-bending body of work - sonic
soma to expand your consciousness and vibrate with the cosmos.

With ‘Harmonizer’, his first album in two years, Ty Segall glides
smoothly into unexpected territory, right where he likes to find
himself. Responding to the challenge his new songs gave him: a
synth-tastic production redesign, Ty kicks back with bottom-heavy
creativity, dialling up a wealth of guitar and keyboard settings to do
the deed.
 ‘Harmonizer’ is a glossy, barely-precedented sound for him, and
truth, it enraptures the ear - but in Ty’s hands, the sound is also a
tool that allows him to cut through dense undergrowth, making for
some of his cleanest songs and starkest ideas to date.
‘Harmonizer’’s production model couches tightly-controlled beats
in thick keyboard textures, with direct-input guitar signal whining
and buzzing purposefully from left to right.
 The Freedom Band appear all over the record, but often one at a
time, their contributions leaving a distinctive footprint on the
proceedings wherever they appear. Operating in this airtight
environment with an eye towards precision, feel, and explosive
mass, Ty’s crafted a formidable listening encounter - and once you
get between the lines, the need to know more grows more
compelling with every song.
 The first recording to be released from Ty’s just-completed
Harmonizer Studios, ‘Harmonizer’ benefits from a collaboration
with Cooper Crain, who co-produced the album with Ty. The Venn
diagram of these guys unites them in DIY/punk dyed-in-thewooldom; Ty’s propers you know, but Cooper’s own unique
journey in rhythm, minimalism and DIY (as heard on his
productions with CAVE, Bitchin Bajas and Jackie Lynn) mines the
depths around Ty’s peerless vocal attack and aid in the latest
chapter of his never-ending search for unfathomably corrosive
guitar sounds.
 Bursting with transcendent energy, ‘Harmonizer’ is an extension of
the classic style of ‘Emotional Mugger’ and ‘Sleeper’, revisiting the
lonely days and loathsome nights of the alienated, grown-upwrong soul, to make it all right in the end.

In January 2019, at the invitation of fiddler Hans Kjorstad, Alasdair
Roberts travelled from his home in Glasgow, Scotland to Oslo,
Norway, where the two men convened with five additional
Scandinavian musicians at Riksscenen, Oslo’s centre for
Norwegian traditional arts and music. Thus newly-formed, the
group worked on arrangements of songs - self-written and
traditional - from Alasdair’s back catalogue, in preparation for
performances at Riksscenen as well as at ALICE in Copenhagen,
Denmark and the bucolic western Danish island of Fanø. The
group was named Völvur (The Seeresses), a reference to the
ancient Icelandic apocalyptic text Völuspa (The Prophecy of the
Seeress).
In January 2020, Völvur visited England and Scotland, to perform
with Alasdair Roberts at Cecil Sharp House, London and at
Platform, Glasgow, the latter as part of Celtic Connections festival.
The group had new material - freshly written songs by Alasdair
and several traditional Norwegian songs sung by Marthe Lea - and
over a couple days at Sam and Rachel’s Studio in Hackney, laid
down the music which now flows forth as ‘The Old Fabled River’.
The musicians who make up Völvur - Marthe Lea, saxophone,
clarinet and voice, Fredrik Rasten, guitars and voice, Andreas
Hoem Røysum, clarinet, Egil Kalman, bass and electronics, Jan
Martin Gismervik, drums, percussion and the aforementioned
initiator of the project, Hans Kjorstad on fiddle - are a busy and
artistically inquisitive group, involved in a diverse range of projects
with a wide variety of musical interests, from folk and jazz to free
music, modular synthesis, microtonality and beyond. They make
an ideal pairing for such voyages in the alchemical world as
Alasdair pursues in his own music.
On ‘The Old Fabled River’, Alasdair Roberts og Völvur meld their
worlds: fiddle and vocal styles formed in the Norwegian valleys
blending now with exploratory clarinet, saxophone and metallic
bowed guitar drones, now fashioned into baroque folk
arrangements. In one case, instrumental accompaniment is laid
aside, as three voices locate a questing fullness harmonizing
together.

 Eight years passes like nothing for Birds of Maya. Their fourth
album kicks out the Philly jams with every bit as much fervour
as their earlier releases - in fact, as it was recorded in 2014, it
kind of is one of their earlier releases.
 A long era of dull ringing and nothing else in our ears is over.
Once again, winds of warm guitar and humid thunderheads of
bass and toms rumble all around. With ‘Valdez’, Birds of Maya
are back in flight. And like the first song title explicitly states, this
latest is a soaring blast of riffers, rife with punk rock abandon,
sludge, treble, distortion, neck-throttling rock ‘n’ roll solos,
pummelling drums and bass and half-shouted/half-gargled
vocals, all of it half on and half off the mic.
 ‘Valdez’ was recorded in 2014 at Black Dirt Studios in otherstate New York. After a Purling Hiss session there, Birds of
Maya got a bunch of tunes they liked into shape - that is,
different shapes on different days. But nice shapes. Once they
got to the studio, they loaded in and set up, curious to see how
they felt playing in a different room. Pretty good as it turned out
- running through the songs that first night, they accidentally
recorded the whole album. Then they finished up the next day,
mostly. Trading the crushed harmonics of their basement tapes
for studio-grade mics, overdubs in the mix and only slightly lessbruised harmonics, their roiling essence not only survives but
thrives, non-stop, on ‘Valdez’, stuttering, screaming and
stomping through six circuitous numbers.
 At the time this was recorded, Birds of Maya were standing on
the other side of ten years kicking around town, suddenly far
away from the primordial ooze they’d flopped forth from. The
streets where all this had happened on were changing, with new
money rolling in, but they were the same old Birds, content with
their libations and ear-splitting variations on old favourite
Stooges chords. The cover art of Valdez is a couple of images
from those days, glimpses at the old grass roots before they
were ripped up by developers to build condos. But nothing ever
really goes away. ‘Valdez’ is a totem of the wildness that refuses
be tamed

Mind Maintenance is the new duo consisting of Joshua Abrams (Natural Information Society) and Chad Taylor (Chicago Underground Duo, Chad Taylor Trio). This is where the music begins, but Mind Maintenance can't be described simply as a summation of its parts and players. When you put on the sound, you'll know what we're saying - you'll notice how immediate and meditative it is; how simple, how "in the room," and how the natural buzz of each instrument sits remarkably well against the other. The percussive qualities of the guimbri and the mbira, so raw and unadorned individually, form with their shared resonance a soothing, sonorous whole. It's not about world music, it's not about jazz. It's about mind maintenance. The songs of Mind Maintenance exist in a zone somewhere between composition and improv. Based in melodies that unspool over time, they benefit from Chad and Joshua's intimately enmeshed sensibility and the intensity with which they listen to each other. Chad and Joshua have been playing together forever - or, if you need to think of it more tangibly, since around 1994. Based on our research, the pairing of guimbri and mbira is more than unusual - it appears to be without precedent! This is incredible if it's true, but more important to the music of Mind Maintenance is the shared ground of inspiration that both instruments occupy. Mind Maintenance pursue their inspirations on these instruments down similarly transformative paths. If some part of the 21st century isn't focused on destruction, but instead, locating a place where our traditions can work together in new ways to entertain and even ensure well-being, then that's just one more incentive for all of us to consider Mind Maintenance.

Bill MacKay and Nathan Bowles’ debut is well titled: keys are what they play
and keys unlock things too. Their trad bonafides are balanced with
inquisitive playing that adds surprise as a formal songwriting and arranging
tool. Spirited 21st Century folk music made of equal parts bluegrass,
classical, country, gospel and improv.
‘Keys’ is, on first blush, a collection of guitar and banjo duets - but from the
opening moment, it is clear that Bill and Nathan’s agreed-upon duo is a
living organism, growing as it goes. Behind the stately figures of ‘Idumea’, a
19th Century southern hymnal played out on their stringed instruments, a
low organ drone hums persistently, signalling that this music, while coming
from traditional places, is asking more of itself, seeking sparks of inspiration
to light the path forward.
Bill and Nathan met a few years back, if time has any meaning. It didn’t
seem to at the time - after the first night they hung out, it seemed as if
they’d known each other for a while already. A year later, in 2018, they
were booked as a duo at Cropped Out. Preparing for the show involved a
correspondence exchanging lots of provisional ideas, thoughts and music
back and forth from Chicago to Durham NC, then dashing through the ideas
again on the festival grounds an hour before the show. From this seemingly
hectic preparation, their playing that night was remarkably serene, a
spiritual treatise clothed in the casual and natural manner of the proverbial
porch, or in this case, riverside-jam, as the stage literally straddled the edge
of the Ohio River. It was a stellar, simpatico first moment that asked for
more moments like it.
After several more sets the following year, they felt ready to roll tape (as the
saying goes) and chose to do so in Chicago, with Nick Broste at The Shape
Shoppe. Again, an easy rapport prevailed, allowing them to work through
their collected ideas quickly and freely, with the moments of spontaneous
decision that can come only with comfort and trust in each other’s presence.
Throughout ‘Keys’, Bill and Nathan propel their power-folk engine with intent
and feeling, joy and solemnity, as images of wariness, wonder, anger,
deliberation, forgiveness, trust and devotion rise up from the music and roll
it forward into the unknown, a place we can sense both players are happy
to go.
Eight of the ten songs featured are originals, with the other two coming
from different centuries to this one. The diversity of song is matched by the
instrumentation: in addition to Bill’s guitar and Nathan’s banjo, they add
voice, piano, percussion, pump organ, requinto and electric organ to the
richness and rusticity, the traditionalism and open space of the
compositions.

The Peacers are back with their third album. The time has
been kind. Three years since they went about their
sophomore release, ‘Introducing the Crimsmen’. That
second Peacers record was made by the second Peacers
line up, after two thirds of the first gang made for the door
after the first album. In came Bo Moore, Shayde Sartin
and Mike Shoun but, after they’d finished making
‘Introducing the Crimsmen’, singer Mike Donovan moved
out of his old San Francisco digs to the east coast and
made two solo albums.
The Peacers were consistently great no matter who they
were, delivering Mike D’s irrepressible subterranean pop in
a full colour spectrum of moods from purple to blue-black
to sometimes white. ‘Blexxed Rec’ is a different time in the
band’s life - a second album from the same line up, plus
with a country in between them. Also Bo, who had one
song on the last one, brought three in for this one and
Shayde’s got the closing number. Suddenly, three singersongwriters under The Peacers’ flag.
The Peacers send out a mad variety of the thrills and chills
of modern rock, whether glam-tinged (‘The Thunder Is an
Electrical Love God’), psyched-out (‘Colors for You’,
‘Dandelion’), folky (‘Irish Suit’), riding the knife blade of
post-garage fusion (‘Blackberry Est’, ‘Ms. Ela Stanyon’s
School of Acting’) or pumping the winning strains of their
own pure pop sound (‘Ghost of a Motherfucker,’ ‘Bic Sitar,’
‘Make It Right’) and melting it all together.
Recorded in SF and Hudson NY with The Peacers’
production ear for small and curious detail in full spectrum,
‘Blexxed Rec’ is a blessed event for all you rock and roll
people.

Seven years and a handful of lifetimes ago, New Bums came
out of nowhere with their debut album, ‘Voices In a Rented
Room’ - a record the New York Times described as “feeling like
it’s falling apart.” New Bums took this as a compliment and,
thus emboldened, they toured relentlessly in support of the
release: criss-crossing the USA in the spring of 2014, with a
European run that summer. Then, silence descended, as the
Bums withdrew to the place from which they’d mysteriously
emerged.
Now, the Bums are back. 2021 finds them with a new album in
hand. Following a West Coast US tour in late 2019 it’s clear that
the duo of Donovan Quinn (Skygreen Leopards) and Ben
Chasny (Six Organs of Admittance, Rangda, etc) are fully
reanimated, as evidenced by the songs and sounds of ‘Last
Time I Saw Grace’.
Retaining the drunk-dog-locomotion of their debut, New Bums
sprinkle a bit of fresh fancy into their signature twin guitarsand-vocals sound, with cleaner recording techniques, further
developments in harmonies and a new appreciation for a song
with more than two parts, making ‘Last Time I Saw Grace’
nothing less than the perfect progression from the purposefully
murky mixes of their debut.
Continuing to embrace an acoustic rock ’n’ roll sound, inspired
by artists such as Jacobites, Robyn Hitchcock, Johnny
Thunders, Replacements and such, New Bums push the words
and the stories to the front of the line, crafting tales with satiric
glee on ‘Last Time I Saw Grace’. However, this world of empty
perfume bottles, bodies tied to masts and moving onward to
devastation (after the bottle on the table pulls out a gun) feels
much more Gombrowiczian dreamscape than drunken night on
the town. Yes, everything is wasted but this is an existential
wasteland rather than a substance-laden one. This combination
of arch Californian post-aristocratic melodrama with torn and
frayed acoustic guitars opens up a new genre entirely, one
those at Drag City are tempted to call Rent Control Romantic.

Lingering at the remains of a campfire before dawn, with the politics of the personal burnt into ash, running his stick through what’s left, Wand singer/guitarist Cory Hanson is reflecting on a series of moments in which he steps farther into himself, finding the ultimate big sky country on the inside of his skull. It’s a combination of songs and sounds that journey
through bleak and broken territory and places of sweet, lush remove and it adds up to the best record he’s been involved in yet: his second solo album, ‘Pale Horse Rider’.

 Cory’s first solo, ‘The Unborn Capitalist From Limbo’, was an intense affair, a grand experiment that produced inspiring,
nconventional music - but this time around, he wanted to breathe a bit easier, to feel that breath in the music as well. So he and his band drove out to the desert to record in a lowstress environment: Brian Harris’ Cactopia, a house surrounded by 6ft tall sculptural psychotropic cacti. They built a studio inside and then they made music and lived off pots of coffee and chili and cases of Miller High Life as they played guitars, bass, keyboards and drums in what seemed increasingly like a living biomech, their tech made out of fungal networks and cacti needles.

 It was loose and flowed onto tape well. Recorded by Robbie Cody and Zac Hernandez (who assisted on Wand’s ‘Laughing Matter’), the sounds were great from the get-go. First takes were mostly best takes. Fuelled with DNA lifted from country-rock cut with native psych and prog strands, Cory guided his craft toward the cosmic side of the highway, a benevolent alien in ambient fields hazy with heat and synths, early morning fog and space echo spreading the harmonies wide.

 ‘Pale Horse Rider’’s got a lot to get out of its mind, looking around and seeing that, on the surface, things don’t always look like much. A lifelong Californian, Cory’s naturally found himself standing to the left of most of the
country. The west may be only what you make it; these days, the roadside view looks exceptionally sunbleached and left behind. ‘Pale Horse Rider’ eyes the city, the country and the fragile environment that holds them both in its hands - a record as much about Los Angeles as it can be with its back to the town and the sun in its eyes; as much about
ostalgia as new music can be with the apocalypse over the next rise.

 On ‘Pale Horse Rider’, Cory Hanson moves ceaselessly forward. The old myths weave and waft, the shadows of tombstones flickering in the mirages and the light that lies dead ahead.

A guitarry hybrid of AZITA’s edgy rock / soul / R&B sound. Grooving good times, acerbic exchanges overheard in the street, shifts in community, the losses you will carry always, dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you've never felt before. Life.
All instruments played by AZITA; the wackest, most AZITA-harmonious sounding pop album yet.
For those who find the passage of time a one-way process of attrition, here’s good news for you. In the eight years since AZITA’s last long-player her fevered brain has barely rested and the proof is a new album of unbounded physical and mental activity, music and entertainment, entitled ‘Glen Echo’.
The worlds of the previous AZITAs have left their unmistakable essence. Her singular conception of pop music - the idiosyncratic songs, singing and playing that have graced seven acclaimed releases - is in verdant recurrence on ‘Glen Echo’, blossoming anew, cutting sharply in the spirit and image of her everevolving, always questioning style.
Writing and arranging on keyboards since the time of her solo debut, AZITA focused on guitars for this set of songs. Not simply for swagger or a fresh approach to soloing but as part of a way to elide expected singer-songwriter tropes, to democratically populate the sound-stage in equal partnership instead.
This is a key aspect of the ‘Glen Echo’ sound, one that determined another new choice - AZITA playing everything on the album herself.
Previous long-players ‘Enantiodromia’, ‘Life On the Fly’ and ‘How Will You?’ were achieved via close work with players and engineers who took the compositions from the demo to a finished form. Invariably though, something would get lost in the transmigration somewhere. With ‘Glen Echo’, AZITA comes through fully, jaggedly, most vividly, owning her intention entirely in the dialogue of singing and playing her rock and rhythm and blues.
The lyric sheet is riddled with language that circles, through the many moments of life, aspects of the passage of time, the pre-empted dreams and strangeness of the present and the way we invent an idealized past in response to the changes, guiding the narrative... where? It’s all banded together by AZITA’s wit, equal parts droll and dire, her dispassionate view of fates and outcomes for all of us here together on the planet, textured with unique, cinematic details and sudden dives into a deeply felt, utterly OG sense of soul.
In ‘Glen Echo’ are a multitude of sounds - all the moments in a life: the good time grooves, acerbic exchanges in the street, shifts in community and generosity, moments of loss you know you will carry forever, reflection upon unknown futures and pasts, the dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you’ve never felt before. You name it, AZITA’s got some sweet and sour theme music for it.

Just when you thought every loner folk genius had been outed/discovered, hyped, and pontificated about, a new/old challenger lurks in the murky depths of time...and Maine. Sure, you have your Skip Spences, Dave Bixbys, Stone Harbours, and Perry Leopolds already, but have you heard the lonesome sound of Bill Stone? Well, don't feel bad or "unkool", hardly anyone has--unless you lived in rural Maine in the early 70s and grabbed his barely-ever seen LP in the day. Titled simply Stone, Bill's mysterious album was pressed in the micro-est of quantities, covering wistful, airy psychedelia on par with the UK's Mark Fry's classic Dreaming of Alice, while still evoking the earthy, evening-hour melancholy of Leonard Cohen or Tom Rapp. Stone was also especially influenced by one Donny P. Leitch, one Robby Zimmerman, and much trad folk, while growing up in his hometown of Old Town, Maine. Stone started out playing in a few small folk ensembles while also moonlighting with occasional solo gigs, finally recording this lone platter in 1969 in a pottery studio (!?) on a 2-track Panasonic tape recorder in Boothbay, Maine (where he says, they competed with a cat in heat). The LP features Tom Blackwell/Bill Stone-guitars, Arthur Webster-bass, Bob Blackwell/Skip Smith-drums, Bill/Beth Waterhouse on vocals. It also seems cover artist Doug Bane went on to become an acclaimed cosmic painter--committing loads of animals, psychedelic scenes, and Native American portraits to canvas, who knew? But we digress--anyhow, seems Stone's solo career slowed down after marriage hit, and he transitioned to playing covers in bars for cash, but after acquiring a masters and doctorate in education, he moved into the teaching walk of life. Bill published books and articles on subjects as diverse as school counseling and chaos theory--but now retired, he's returned to music, even recording a new album of originals and traditional numbers, based on his experiences as a cab driver (another wrinkle in the Stone Saga we must hear more of someday - but for now check out). So with Bill back in action and the world slowly crawling out of a disillusioning haze, now seems like the perfect time for a first-time-ever reissue of this incredibly rare, happy-sad, gently delicate, Stone(d) classic of a downer song-cycle.

2015. Two boys with guitars on their chests, stretching songwriting muscles and finding, to their delight, new possibilities at every run up the neck. This means trading vocal parts mid-song, then trading back again, modulating madly through rhythm changes, looking for a note in the harmony they’d never played or sung before. All in the service of locating the feelgood pop alchemy in a song in which no parts are repeated. Laying it all down with a sweet solid state vibe.
“Whatever happened to ‘She’s a Beam’!?!” has been a question/passive-aggressive demand from Ty and Cory aficionados over the past few years. This is what happened. It went to Heaven and lived a beautiful life there. This is the sound of it. Guitars and harmonies. Helium-coated keyboards. A celestial, Steve Millerish synth transformation. Positivity. Lightness. Rock. Epic. Energetic. Happy, headbanging days.
‘Milk Bird Flyer’ is a perfect other ‘A’ to pair with ‘She’s a Beam’, hovering on a fade-in fanfare of gleaming guitar godness before shifting into a countryish tripper with cheerful Psilo-sci-fi-bin lyrics to bend and stretch the ecstatic shuffle of the beat. As with ‘She’s a Beam’, Ty and Cory are floating so tight in the harmony that we’re like “Who’s who?”
The pure sounds of yesterday are bright like a moment in time just waiting for its chance to exist, a nugget of potency landing right between the eyes in any era. Turn it up and smile, smile, smile.

Nuno Canavarro's Plux Quba hails from three decades in the past, yet the simple profi le of it's abstract/ambient/cutup collage makes it a record that sits quite comfortably in our IDM-informed future. In 1988, Plux Quba was a primal dark horse in the world of pants-forward electronic music - an obscurity issued with little explanation from the laid-back west coast of Europe: Portugal, of all places! - though the casual listener could hardly know that from an examination of the LP jacket. The vanguard of electronics in late-80s Europe was being pushed by organizations like Nurse With Wound, The Hafler Trio, HNAS - and yet, when Christoph Heemann came across this recording, it struck his ears and the ears of fellow listeners like nothing before. Plux Quba was handed around between the principles of the early 90s A-Musik scene: Jan St. Werner, C-Schulz, Frank Dommert, Georg Odijk, plus interested fellow travelers like Jim O'Rourke, to the intense curiosity of all. To ears that were already saturated with all things kraut, the dark corners of prog and the frontline of experimental and improvised music, it proved elusive. Not simply in how it sounded and how that sound was achieved, but in where it was coming from - like later Robert Ashley at times; certain stretches of melody recalled some of Eno's ambient pieces - but mostly, it was a completely alien soundscape!

CAVE are kind of beyond time. You might feel like it's been
awhile since you've seen or heard them but when you see
or hear them again, that moment will feel like 'Allways'.
During the making of the last album, 'Threace', CAVE was
in the process of becoming a quintet. They toured the
world afterwards, playing on four continents and eighteen
countries - as close to everywhere as they could get. Then
they took a minute. They recorded it over time, in Chile
and then Chicago. You can hear all of this, the energy of
liveness, the reps, and consolidating expanded possibilities
within their new alignment, the time away, the distance
and the freshness of returning to recorded sounds,
everywhere on 'Allways'.
In the past, much has been made of CAVE's use of
particular compelling tropes but their inspiration comes
from everywhere - Miles, psych, beats, exotica, library
music, rock, punk, the Germans, the New York guys too,
minimalists, the Dead, music from India, everywhere. This
is a bunch of guys playing rock-based music in a way that
pushes them forward from everything they've experienced.
When you listen to the new CAVE you hear guitars - lots of
them - bubbling under, scratching, fanning, locking in and
taking off, soaring on acid-washed wings, with keys that
pump, burr and whoosh in and out of the rhythms.
Half-speed mastering of 'Allways' at Abbey Road has
allowed the activity at all frequencies to present with a
liquid fullness and ripe detail. 'Allways' is a blueprint for
your ears to read and a map for CAVE to follow through
the world.

My Days of 58 is the eighth Bill Callahan album, his first since 2022. The twelve tunes here open uncanny depths of expression as Bill continues to blaze one of the most original songwriting-and-performance trails out there. Applying the living, breathing energies of his concerts to this album production, he sharpens his slice-of-life portraiture to cut deeper, releasing a stream of singalong consciousness: poetic, cinematic, novelistic, comedic - and above all - musical.

Forever's spirit is high and tight, its sinews rumbling with communal joy as Glyders' power-trio formation, in it "for life", grooves deep into their own thing. Shuffling the deck with road-tested jams and a couple immaculate old-school tunes, Forever hits with the energy of a first album - which it kinda is, now that founders Joshua Condon and Eliza Weber have met their true other, the relentless traps-man Joe Seger. Forever starts now!

Our favorite six-string shaman is waving that axe around again! Sir Richard Bishop wrenches forth fresh damnable truth and beauty from a musical kamikaze run through histories both known and unknown. Turning a gimlet eye to the American Primitive guitar style, Sir Rick applies his own bloodthirsty interpretive methods on a self-described "excursion into the dark woods," to locate - and play along with - the Primitive"s moonshine-fed inner savage.

The successor to 2022"s Bajascillators glides easily into frame, but once there, Inland See is deceptively immediate. It"s so dialed in, you hardly even feel how present the music (and you the listener) is. Time wharping"s always been a resident magic for Bitchin Bajas, as is flow, which is translucent like water here. That"s the Inland See vibe, unique unto itself. In turn, each of the four songs here are entirely within themselves, all together forming an essential whole. The coincision"ll cause yer breath to shorten, like an exciting and non-fatal kind of exercise! New freedoms, yet more molecular structure in each one. With every successive Bitchin Bajas release, we see that the real key for them is a sense of discovery, that tingle that comes when you feel something breakíing through. The sky opening up. The stuff that fills this Inland See holds you up powerfully, as if you"re floating, saltwater or helium-wise - effervescent, effortless, elemental.

With a room fulla fine pickers and a set of Hollywood orchestral cues to kill for, Cory Hanson proclaims I Love People! His 4th solo album drills down (baby) on a dryly parallax worldview, with songs about all those people he loves and all the crazy things they get up to. As ringmaster for a circus show of classic folk and rock tropes, Cory tugs at our heartstrings with expert misdirection, embracing tradition by throwing it out, into the wind.

Ty hits the big sky trail of our good ol" frontier empire, discovering non-stop bangers and inspired new sonics around every bend. With lyrics co-written by long-time collaborator, filmmaker Matt Yoka, Ty"s glittering rhythm arrangements move with fresh scansion, inviting in sweeps of strings and horns to further the charge righteously. You"re invited too! Don"t miss the trip - the country inspires awe from up on Ty"s high-octane ride.

Totality! It can only be good news. The second convergence of Natural Information Society and Bitchin Bajas, years removed from the first, misses no steps and posits low-key revolutions in gravity for everyone instead. LPs divide inevitably into two halves; here, the first side could be typed "space" and the second side "time". With loads of totally principled playing in the communal feel, both sides blur the edges warmly.

we will be wherever the fires are lit, a sort of sequel to Tashi"s first DC release Stateless, takes the torch and storms forward, with ten improvised acoustic guitar anthems. These musical thoughts are torn from the fabric of Tashi"s life and music. "Strumming in opposition to the towers" (as he puts it) is part of an existence that is always political, even in its most abstract iterations - a truth laid bare in these deep, raw performances.

Following Sonescent, Matchess" 2022 album documenting "the final moments in the life of music", Stena goes further, reanimating dying waves with a collage of found sounds, frequency experiments and new music compositions. Pouring over notebooks rife with polarities and doppelgangers, considerations of biological and symbolic ancestry and the spirits that infuse places we leave behind, Matchess crafts an encompassing work of psychoacoustic music.

Love Rudiments is a meditation by Ty Segall on his first love: the drums. Known popularly as a singing guitar player, he generally starts the recording of his songs by laying down a drum track. Love Rudiments kicks off with drums and percussion then adds a few other percussive and production aspects. It travels a great journey in this configuration. However, Love Rudiments wasn"t written or performed to present as some kind of solo drums album - it"s just another music album, with vibes (figurative as well as literal), feels, a theme and a through-line. Never one to shy away from a challenge, Ty"s made an instrumental album of percussive music that rides the wild surf of a waxing-then-waning love affair - from the first blinding look, to the eventual recognition, that look back at love"s rudiments, viewed from beyond and outside that seemingly infinite sensation And why not? Drums are a melody instrument too. Ty plays them with precision and sensitivity, delving deep into the textures of timpani, vibraphone, xylophone, percussion and e-drums, all of them occupying space within the luxe stereo spread of the drum kit. In the process, a psychological space is opened - a private emotional location where only two can meet. Love Rudiments reembodies the passion and compulsion that drives all of Ty Segall"s music in a suite of moments played on orchestral batterie to explore the most delicate passages of human interaction - playing on the bones of love.

Sliding between the bodies in the street, cutting across the contrails that bisect our sky, Wand find melody and the anxiety beats as they hum the soundtrack for a new gravitational center. Seeking connections against the plan of niche interest and anonymity, Vertigo is the sound of slippage, rocks of contradiction (in soft focus); feet lost, regained, lost again, a multi-chromatic swaying, more automatic, associative, directed, in time. Determining to work backwards (or at least insideout) this time, Wand recorded everything in their own studio; pieces cut from improvisations and reshaped, writing from within the performance, without the woodshed. Unconsciously, in the shadow of themselves, and turning round and round (and round), they kept finding that empty space and playing what it implied. Everybody took on a new position in addition to the old one. It was intuitive, strangely ego-less . . . going somewhere they"d never been and not knowing what they were doing, but committing and recommitting, unafraid to eject in a constant positive forward momentum.

Bill MacKay and Drag City are delirious with pride to announce the discovery of a new territory: Locust Land, a record which seeks to reflect the nerve-shredding consciousness run amok in our world today - and somehow allay it with sound. Bill"s music is a visceral crackling where it meets the air, and Locust Land can"t help but reflect its era more than any other in his discography. It"s been five years since the release of Fountain Fire - but in the interim, Bill has barely stopped moving, collaborating with artists across the spectrum, including cellist Katinka Kleijn, banjo player Nathan Bowles and keyboardist Cooper Crain. He"s also contributed to recordings by Steve Gunn, Ryley Walker, Bill Callahan & Bonnie Prince Billy (Blind Date Party), and Black Duck (on their self-titled record featuring Douglas McCombs and Charles Rumback). Forget five years - how"d he even get Locust Land squeezed out of his temporal lobes? Bill"s sense of music as art is constantly modulating - lifting off from where it is found and naturally migrating to some other place. Sometimes, that"s elsewhere - others, it"s simply to be found deeper inside the starting point. And so, the action of moving on informs the landscape of Locust Land. This manifests in several different ways. A restless energy and urgency is repeatedly felt - in the driving momentum of "Keeping in Time," "Glow Drift," and "When I Was Here" - while a dogged persistence radiates from the tone colors and percussion of "Oh, Pearl." Mating a dirge-like desolation with sparkling guitars, "Radiator" adds darkness and depth. The sense of searching, displacement and longing in vocal tracks "Keeping in Time," "Half of You," and "When I Was Here" speak literally to the tumult of current vibrations. Within the arrangements, there"s also departure from previous norms - in addition to the brilliant guitar work for which he is known, Bill plays a variety of keyboards, from piano to organ to synth, extending his music with the available voicings, while enriching the sound field without abandoning his signature brevity. For fans of his singing, and following in the recent tradition of Fountain Fire as well as his collaboration with Nathan Bowles, Keys, Locust Land expresses with an increased vocal presence - and heightened engagement, with Bill"s words and melodies drawing us closer. Also different: on his previous solo recordings, Bill played every sound. Here, he has invited other illustrious Chicagoans to join him: Sam Wagster (The Father Costume, Mute Duo) plays bass on three songs, two of which feature the percussion playing of Mikel Patrick Avery (Natural Information Society, Jeff Parker, etc.). Additionally, Janet Beveridge Bean (Eleventh Dream Day, Freakwater) adds otherworldly vocal textures to the elegiac "Neil"s Field." Whether played alone or with companions, this music projects the strength of a universal collective. Even with a piece that might earlier have passed for blissful pastorale, Bill displays some declamatory motives. The reverie which opens the album, "Phantasmic Fairy," embodies both transcendent and desperate moods, with Bill"s ineffable slide guitar playing afloat, with organs and synths, in a dream state suffused with a sense of foreboding - a requiem, perhaps for the days of unencumbered bandwidth? On the other side of the album, the strength to continue to hope appears in the lifting melodicism/exoticism of the album-closing title track, leaving the listener with the sense of having achieved a hard-won space - a place of personal contemplation and dissent, one that everyone on the planet deserves to visit every single day on earth. With cover art also by Bill MacKay (the third of his albums on Drag City to feature his work), Locust Land stands as a thoroughly personal statement from Bill to everyone everywhere.

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

Ty Segall follows 2022"s acoustic introspection opus "Hello, Hi" with a deeper, wilder journey to the center of the self. With Three Bells, he"s created a set of his most ambitious, elastic songs, using his musical vocabulary with ever-increasing sophistication. It"s an obsessive quest for an expression that answers back to the riptide always pulling him subconsciously into the depths. Questions we all ask in our own private mirrors are faced down here - and regardless of what the mysterious "Three Bells" mean in the context of the album"s libretto, you can be assured that Ty"s ringing them for himself, and for the rest of us in turn.

Neil Hamburger presents a new work from the songwriting team of Gregg Turkington and Erik Paparozzi. Seasonal Depression Suite is an album-based musical, sung by an all-star cast whose voices embody various guests stuck in a perfectly average chain-hotel, wallowing in self-pity and paranoia, re-living personal catastrophes both real and imagined, or simply trying to use the hotel vending machine. Expert music played by an all-star band, to boot! To sing these parts, a once-in-a-lifetime all-star cast was assembled - including Neil Finn (Split Enz, Crowded House, Fleetwood Mac), Annabella Lwin (Bow Wow Wow), Alan Bishop (Sun City Girls), Bonnie Prince Billy, acclaimed singer/performance artist Puddles Pity Party, voice actress Natalie Peyser, J.P. Hasson (Pleaseeasaur), enigmatic vocalist (and Frank Sinatra"s granddaughter) A.J. Lambert, Paparozzi himself and, of course, Neil Hamburger. Among the many musicians accompanying the cast were Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan"s Rolling Thunder Revue), Danny Heifetz (Mr Bungle), Bär McKinnon (Mr Bungle), Prairie Prince (The Tubes), Atom Ellis (Dieselhed), Jason Schimmel (Secret Chiefs 3), and Alex Jules (The Monkees band) - an international assemblage whose talents give Seasonal Depression Suite its epic sweep. With all hands on board, Turkington and Paparozzi created their own kind of masterpiece, like Sinatra"s late-period concept album Watertown fused with the misfit comedy of Neil Hamburger - a work that looks at a cast of characters both ordinary and bizarre, as they make their way from one grievance to another, traveling from place to place, hoping to live, while waiting to die.

Moments of eternity: the first plucks at the strings, a bass note cementing the drift into place a little more than a minute in. The organ drones, iterating unrelivable ancient history, a chiming note of the church. Guitars strings, climbing that stairway to heaven. Gossamer-light when viewed from a distance; up close, the gears grind with a visceral physicality. With BCMC, Cooper Crain and Bill MacKay unite to create Foreign Smokes: provocalogues, equal parts avant-garde noir and fire-and-icy jams to recall bright shades and warm stretches of infinity drawn through the buzzy overdrive of this side of life"s strange and sunny days. Cooper"s organ and synths and Bill"s guitar draw songs from spontaneous statements and elegiac scraps, floating closer, then farther, and closer again to the sounds of the other. Starting with a melody, as set of progressions or even as little as a scale or just a key, gives room for either one of "em to take the lead, depending on where they are or are going at any given time. The reigning motif most often seems to be, to melt and wind around each other"s sound, part of a singular undulation, handed back and forth, a slowly emerging trip up into and through an ideal of exuberance.

Cory Hanson"s third solo LP follows upon 2020"s luminescent Pale Horse Rider, upping the heat to molten levels, six strings at a time. In search of further adventures, Cory draws with vampiric glee from the madness coursing through the world outside; a spiraling shitshow that"s reawakened a compulsion in him - an old ambition, even! - to crush brutality and elegance together into a fresh set of rocks to hail down upon us. Western Cum is a high-stepping, hard-dancing, first love/heartbreak, tonight"s-the-night, future nostalgia kind of good time - the sound of guitars through the speakers of luxury cars. Like the dream you had once, alone, asleep in an amplifier, blasting Guns N" Roses through every last orifice in your body. And it"s coming through! Western Cum"s map to the treasure is less about pastiche, though; more toward executing the songs by executioner"s axe, rolling their decapitated rhythm heads and soaring melodies, the panoply of Cory"s melodic impulses with guitars, guitars, guitars. Harmony leads are just the tip of the iceberg, but be quick - the guitars like to melt everything in their path! The eight songs of Western Cum are driven by the stalwart bass of brother Casey Hanson and the drums of Evan Backer with a few passing acoustics from Cory and the intermittent spirit-moans of Tyler Nuffer"s steel guitar. The quartet sound - two guitars, bass and drums - acts as beat-making principle/phrasing device, as well as template for Cory"s layers of six-string and vocal textures. From the rooftop of their musical safe house - the band in their makeshift hut and Cory ensconced in an outhouse - they let loose with a blast both face-melting and mind-blowing: a social service that gives constipation a good name.

Tape
"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.