DRAG CITY News

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.

A two-headed, four-handed groove-and-space-based understanding & alignment of purpose laid out in pure BCMC DNA. Cooper Crain and Bill MacKay"s keyboard and guitar duo make unbridled electro-ecstatic, intuitive assembly of deep and wide trans-hemispheric sounds. Even if you only like Ummagumma, Nino Rota, King Crimson, Sandy Bull, Crystal Silence/Hotel Hello, you will still want to dig deep into BCMC"s Stash.

The second OM album, Conference of the Birds, also features Al Cisneros and Chris Hakius, with production by OM, originally released in 2006 on Holy Mountain. With Billy Anderson (of the Melvins, among others), they deliver an intelligent, hypnotic doom drone album featuring elements of dub and psychedelia, alongside monotonous vocals. Two tracks: minimalist and a logical continuation of Sleep"s sound.

The first OM album, Variations on a Theme, features Al Cisneros bass, vocals and Chris Hakius drums. It was produced by OM and originally released in 2005 on Holy Mountain. Variations on a Theme is comprised of three long songs employing a series of rhythmic chants whose cadence-like textural drive conveys flight. Recorded with Billy Anderson.

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.