Taupe’s latest album release, waxing | waning delivers jazz experimentalism, ‘skronk’, avant-rock, and electronics, by the Glasgow-based trio, due out via Minority Records. Across its seven tracks, waxing | waning captures Taupe’s approach – bold and boundary pushing – shaped by a fresh shift in the band’s dynamic and compositional approach.
Taupe’s waxing | waning, co-composed and realised by its players in a studio that was once an undertaker’s premises in Glasgow, is an absolutely affirmative album, an act of cultural defiance in desperate times.
Comprising Mike Parr-Burman (guitar, bass guitar, electronics), Jamie Stockbridge (alto and baritone saxophones) and Alex Palmer (drum kit, percussion), Taupe work up a storm of skronk, free jazz and harmolodic frenzy whose closest relations include Zu, Melt Banana and John Zorn. However, waxing | waning is from its opening, stuttering blasts, an exercise in seeking out and claiming new territory, finding unique and novel permutations in which jazz, rock, electronics interbreed at breakneck pace. Here is a group determined to say and do things they don’t get to say and do elsewhere in their musical lives.
‘Lemonade Tycoon’ hits the ground skronking. It’s cubistic jazz, cumulative in its impact, avoiding the white lines of the conventional freeway, bridling, bustling, coming at you from all angles – a three way conversation of astonishing rapidity, fast track, telepathic communication – everyone from James Chance to Albert Ayler coming at you at once, before morphing in to a spidery scrawl of electronics and furious percussion. ‘Anti-Bird-Spike BirdNest’s‘ title somehow sums up the sort of mental images evoked by the music – its sheer creative disobedience, as if being chased in vain, like a delivery rider evading capture by ICE agents -– shapeshifting, assuming different shades, sprouting metal quills and, in its midsection, seeming almost to swallow itself alive, before regurgitating itself in a sublime mess.
‘Interlude (Stride)’ is not exactly ambient, more a horizontal enmeshment of percussion, drones, reverberant noise, electronics, a sonic mulch. ‘allcapsallbold' reminds of early Aksak Maboul, in its playfulness, a haywire series of short phrases, subject to mechanical interference, a complex weave of irregular rhythms, increasingly eloquent sax phraseology and caustic guitars, which land heavier and heavier. ‘Pet Boss' is the new jazz equivalent of a highly evolved, mature conversation among brilliant equals, sharp, empathetic, complementary, rising to a collective, joyful noise. On the title track, electronics descend like a shower of bright particles, intensifying in their luminosity, whitening the skies, as sax and drums kick up a tempestuous, spontaneously sculpted noise that summons the ghosts of the great free jazz players, before a dark calm descends slowly. Finally, ‘Turn Push Kick’, a burgeoning chatterstorm of electronics, before the group kicks in, at angles to one another, led by abrasive guitars, reminiscent of Sunn O))) in their ritualistic concussion, riffing, digging deep amid squealing sax and piledriving percussion.
Synthpop, minimal wave, post-punk, goth, new romantic - fans and critics alike have dug deeply into their vintage thesauruses to describe the beguiling work of Nation of Language. And if you can't precisely define the band, that's the point. Frontman Ian Richard Devaney has become prodigious in expanding what synthesizer-driven music can evoke, such that his output is as much an extrasensory journey as it is an all-too-human destination. With that experience in mind, he wrote the band's fourth album - the spectral, spacious Dance Called Memory - in the most humble of ways: chipping away at melancholia by sitting around and strumming his guitar. Nation of Language's first two albums, Introduction, Presence (2020), and A Way Forward (2021), came as pandemic godsends: gorgeous, relatable soundtracks to our collective doldrums. But it was their last LP, Strange Disciple (2023), that catapulted the group from cultural standouts to critical darlings, with the album being named Rough Trade's Album of the Year. With that release, Pitchfork wrote that the band "are learning what it means to get bigger and better." This is Devaney's calling: soulfully translating individual despair into a comforting, collective mourning. The single "Now That You're Gone," which radiates and reverberates with a devastating wistfulness, was inspired by witnessing his godfather's tragic death from ALS, and his parents' role as caretakers for this ailing friend. At its heart, the song is a reflection of how friends can be there for each other, and also highlights a theme throughout the record: the pain and lost promise of friendships that fall apart. On Dance Called Memory, the band once again collaborated with friend and Strange Disciple producer Nick Millhiser (LCD Soundsystem, Holy Ghost!). "What's so great about Nick is his ability to make us feel like we don't need to do what might be expected of us," says synth player Aidan Noell, who, along with bassist Alex MacKay, rounds out the Nation of Language lineup. They imbued Dance Called Memory with a shifted palette - sampling chopped-up drum breaks on "I'm Not Ready for the Change" for a touch of Loveless-era My Bloody Valentine or smashing all of the percussion of "In Another Life" through a synthesizer to cast a shade of early-2000s electronic music. Ultimately, the hope was to weave raw vulnerability and humanity into a synth-heavy album. "There is a dichotomy between the Kraftwerk school of thought and the Brian Eno school of thought, each of which I've been drawn to at different points. I've read about how Kraftwerk wanted to remove all the humanity from their music, but Eno often spoke about wanting to make synthesized music that felt distinctly human," Devaney says. "As much as Kraftwerk is a sonically foundational influence, with this record I leaned much more towards the Eno school of thought. In this era quickly being defined by the rise of AI supplanting human creators I'm focusing more on the human condition, and I need the underlying music to support that_ Instead of hopelessness, I want to leave the listener with a feeling of us really seeing one another, that our individual struggles can actually unite us in empathy."
Mess Esque are a duo featuring music and instruments by Mick Turner
and words and voice by Helen Franzmann. Their self-titled album is a
beguiling travelogue of restless, somnambulant wanderings.
Perhaps best known as one of the Dirty Three, Mick’s been playing
guitar and making music with many collaborators for forty years. He’s
loved his paintings too but revered especially for his solo music - since
1997, Drag City have released four of his albums, plus an EP and an
album of the Tren Brothers (Mick with percussionist and fellow Dirty
Three-ite, Jim White) and two EPs featuring Mick as the Marquis de Tren
with Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy.
Mick’s last record was 2013’s ‘Don’t Tell the Driver’, a work that found
him departing from his traditional hermetic instrumental template by
employing a rhythm section and brass charts and even collaborating with
a vocalist. After all the purely instrumental music he’s made with Dirty
Three and solo, a singer is now part of the sound he’s hearing in his
head these days; while demoing new material, he realized that he was
again writing music that needed lyrics - and for that matter, someone
other than himself to sing them. But who? In 2019, he was introduced to
Helen through a mutual friend who’d produced her last album. Under the
name Mckisko, Helen has released three albums over the past 12 years,
working and touring with a range of Australian musicians along the way.
Her music has been described as numinous and transformative. Her
most recent album, ‘Southerly’, saw her moving into a more expansive
sound which led to an openness and excitement around further
collaboration.
Helen’s words are carefully observed, her phrasing responding intuitively
to Mick’s looping guitar figures with vocal repetitions of her own. Starting
with a feeling or a voicing, there are often no words - both players are
searching on their own paths. Then suddenly they have arrived and are
passing the emerging meaning back and forth, the rising intensity
forming a kind of undertow that pulls the listener deeper into their world.
Often, Helen would record her vocals in the middle of the night, seeking
that 2am flow, a moment of greatest isolation through which to trace her
melodie with fragility and strength. This crystallizes Mess Esque’s
intention: riding the sleepy drift through the blurred edges of the day…
time-traveling to that moment beyond stasis where sense and no sense
coincide and share space and time and energy. Viewing from afar the
immense peace of this planet when its ghost world of spirits below - the
madness of crowds, people sliding past each other faraway in the night -
are quieted at last.
Across an extensive suite of enchanting miniatures, Matthias Kremsreiter and Christian Schoppik present the hypnagogic vision of Taghelle Nacht. Recording under their respective Roudi Vagou and Läuten der Seele aliases, Kremsreiter and Schoppik combine their distinct but equally accomplished instrumental practices into a new collaboration that weaves swooning samples amongst instrumental passages. They lead us through 16 vignettes that revel in the cognitive dissonance and seductive magic of moonlight at midnight.
Both artists have past form within the folds of contemporary experimental electronic music in Germany. Kremsreiter's work as alibikonkret has manifested on DIY tape releases created with a methodical, technically-minded approach. Debuting his Roudi Vagou pseudonym on Taghelle Nacht, he pivots to a more playful, instinctively felt method that allows the compositions to flow with a natural cadence. Schoppik has been a key figure in the celebrated dark-ambient-folk scene, not least as part of the group Brannten Schnüre. His work as Läuten der Seele includes the acclaimed 'water trilogy' of LPs between 2022 and 2024, with a greater emphasis on instrumental, atmospheric production, and a last, stunning collaborative album with Nový Sv?t's Jota Solo.
On Taghelle Nacht the precise ingredients of each piece soften at the edges as tape loops and swathes of reverb seal the joints between spellbinding melodic refrains. Opening track and lead single 'Gleisende Lichter' sets the tone with ghostly murmurs, spine-tingling string refrains and splashes of cymbal that cut through the gloom with stark clarity. A lilting romanticism stirs at the heart of the orchestral samples that populate the likes of "Grenzu?berschreitung" - old-world beauty sometimes buried in dust, elsewhere rendered with startling clarity. 'So Süß' lets buzzing, sustained drones and dissonant sweeps of extended technique glide in and out of each other. Granular processing subtly breaks apart the mellow swell on 'Komischer Anruf', and forlorn sax calls out into heavy-hearted space on 'Glaskopf Mit Watte'. At every turn a new scene is painted, distinct from the last and yet all bound up in the pervasive, pale blue light cast over the sleeping landscape Kremsreiter and Schoppik have sculpted.
Snatches of song drift by like dreamlike fragments, and achingly tender flourishes fleetingly appear and retreat - ideas and expressions momentarily caught in the light before retreating into the shadows once more. This is the evocative world of Taghelle Nacht - an unsettling depiction of the surreal blend of memories and imagination that merge into each other once the sun goes down.
Helsinki quartet Alder Ego, led by drummer/composer Joonas Leppänen, returns with their new album "III" on 9 April on We Jazz Records. A follow up to their successful 2018 We Jazz album, "III" finds Leppänen and his bandmates extracting more depth and punch out of their tenor sax + trumpet + double bass + drums setup, which echoes the greats in the game, such as Ornette Coleman, yet adds a readily identifiable edge to it all. Leppänen's writing is evolving, becoming more and more of a signature of the band and sounding delightfully angular yet easily flowing. On "III", Alder Ego features Leppänen on drums, Jarno Tikka (of OK:KO) on tenor sax, Tomi Nikku (of Bowman Trio) on trumpet and the new addition Nathan Francis on bass.
Kicking off with a key track introducing the band's deep sound, "Love And Maladies", "III" moves through a sonic landscape which is constantly surprising yet identifiable as Alder Ego guided by Leppänen's musical vision at all times. This is true even during moments when the composer himself steps aside, namely in the Tikka–Nikku duo cut "Impermanence" and Nathan Davis's highly memorable solo outing "Nathan's World".
The album's many highlights include singles "November Ghost" and "I Saw It In a Dream", plus the stunning closing track "Ephemeral", featuring Natalia Castrillon on harp.
Alder Ego "III" is available on We Jazz Records on as orange and black vinyl editions, digitally, plus as a bundle bringing together "III" and the band's 2018 album "II".
'In 2023, sound artist and composer Weston Olencki toured across the American South. Beginning in their hometown in South Carolina, they snaked a circuitous path from the mountains of West Virginia to the banks of the Mississippi River. As the miles accumulated, so did the initial seeds of new work.
'Instruments and artifacts they acquired hitched a ride in the backseat, while songs and sounds filled their portable recorder: water in its various states, the familiar insectoid buzz of those summer nights, trains cutting through the landscape, the traditional music that lived alongside the communities that kept it. Olencki took it all in, and over time, found ways that these experiences coalesced into a bramble-like perspective of time, where past, present, and future intersect in ways both barbed and beautiful.
'Broadsides, Olencki’s newest solo full-length is the multilayered result of this journey. The album follows their landmark release Old Time Music from 2022, which presented radical interpretations of traditional tunes from Appalachia and throughout the South alongside original compositions that drew significantly on archival recordings. On Broadsides, Olencki rejects delineations between the unmoored avant-garde and the rootedness of one’s cultural heritage, revealing their porous and intertwined nature. “My mother was a quilter. Her mother before that,” they write in the album’s liner notes. “Quilting, like music, is a practice of embedding knowledge and remembrance into the very core of the thing you are making. It’s not just about the materials, but how they’re reassembled, recontextualized, stitched, woven to form new patterns - the minutiae of craft holding significance to those looking to find it. Stories woven from stories, never told the same way twice.”
'Like all great road trips, Broadsides unfolds slowly and continuously, with moments of dramatic reverie punctuating the endless melt of highway in the rearview. We’re immediately confronted by the uncanniness of revisiting old haunts, as Southern storms break through the initial churn of the freight locomotives of Alabama. Olencki’s interpretation of the bluegrass standard “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” captures the euphoria of melancholy in motion. The permutational plucks of banjo are bounced around the frame by a computer, its pitches determined within algorithmic sequences and transcriptions of classic three-finger licks. The tonalities of old-time are smeared and stretched until all that’s audible is the insistence that Heaven might be real.
'In the album’s second half, “Omie Wise,” a murder ballad made famous by Doc Watson, follows an interlude recorded on the river in North Carolina in which the titular character’s body was laid. Ghostly echoes of a dozen other renditions float through the substrata as Tongue Depressor’s Henry Birdsey accompanies them on the pedal steel guitar. The album’s central composition, “all my father’s clocks,” is a profound meditation on entropy and impermanence. The sound of their father’s extensive clock collection ticks away as Olencki pulls a bow across the length of an autoharp sourced from a rural strip mall. The instrument was left as detuned as it was found, the resonance of its deep bass drone and clanging high-end the result of years of neglect and the warping effects of Southern humidity.
'Historically, broadsides were an early form of broadcasting, an often- musicalized telling of current news pasted in the public square. The name was later taken up by Sis Cunningham and Gordon Friesen in the 1960s, whose Broadside magazine published songs and social commentary when American folk music resurfaced as an urgent way of communicating the multifaceted politics of its time.
'Olencki borrows the phrase to recall both this old form of songmaking and that later prominent reexamination of traditional music’s role in modern life, but also to draw attention to the fragmented and machine- mediated way heritage is diffused in this very different, but no less pivotal, moment.
'As a sanitized past is used as justification for current violence and domination, we can turn to these artifacts to better understand the history of ourselves, but only if they are consciously pushed to evolve. Broadsides represents one personal, striking vision of what far-flung futurisms could be respun from = these high, lonesome sounds: a reflection of the unbridled joy and deep sorrow inherent to living together through time, and a desire to push further into the untold and unknown.'
"Produced by Billy Mannino (Oso Oso, Prince Daddy & The Hyena, Macseal), Kerosene Heights' LP Blame It On The Weather cements the band's place as one of the greatest of this current wave of punk/emo revival. BrooklynVegan writes ""...it’s been a minute since I’ve heard a band do mathy Midwest emo as clear, punchy, and hook-driven as Kerosene Heights are doing it.” Blame It On The Weather (their first LP with SideOneDummy Records) releases August 15, and they'll be on the road supporting this rollout every month the rest of the year including tours with TRSH, Free Throw, Dikembe, Michael Cera Palin and more, and appearances at Warped Tour and FEST in Gainesville.
FFO: Joyce Manor, Glocca Morra, Fiddlehead, Prince Daddy & The Hyena, Michael Cera Palin, etc."
French artist based in Brussels, Che Vuoi presents her first album Cinecittàx, a nod to the great Italian studio, and a tribute to false dreams.
A theatre at the back of a run-down piano bar, where surreal and intimate scenes unfold; words and stories drawn from disparate sources: Fellini, G. Réal, Diderot... or written by herself, spoken, shouted or barely whispered by an altered voice.
Noises, samples, a drum machine, a brush on a snare drum, a piano spinning round and round until it reaches delirium and its own abolition, leaving us suspended in a constant in-between or a time that never truly existed.
« This voice, gentle, mad, with lightning verve, tells between the lines and the echoes the presence of threatening shadows and ghosts. And it is Che Vuoi, her character, her world of images, that haunts us. It is a strange bewitchment that carries us beyond the words she has freed from "the stationery I stole from Bellavista the other night" ("le papier à lettre que j’ai chipé au Bellavista l’autre soir") into the lair of her universe, as whimsical as it is silky in which we let ourselves slip, as one would slip over the rock of an esoteric river, in the heart of a forest that makes music and has delirious things to tell us. »
Four years on from their landmark Grassroots, visionary half-time heavyweights The Untouchables return with their third album, Lost Knowledge. The duo of Kate McGill and Ajit 'Nitrox' Steyns have carved out a space in modern D&B all their own, building on a legacy that reaches back to the late 00s to keep pushing into unexplored terrain with an assured and deadly line in rhythmic intrigue and atmospheric immersion.
Lost Knowledge launches into action instantly with the high-pressure drum science and dubby splashes of 'Drunken Bells', capturing the loopy techno propulsion and rolling intensity that drives so much of the output on Samurai Music. Where The Untouchables excel is in finding variety and nuance in their relatively forbidding, pared down sound. The heads-down groove of 'Mafia Town' owes as much to dembow and dancehall as D&B, while 'Lost Knowledge' spirals out into psychoactive flurries of synth strafes and organic percussion slathered in tight-locked delay trails. There's no light relief from strident hooks or riffs, just a pure, unshakeable commitment to the power of the beat and deeply designed layers of sound shaping out the space around.
'Busy Bones' makes space for carefully deployed hints of pad tone while the snares snap out of the mix with a sharp set of teeth. 'Four Eared Demon' baits the gabber crowd with its rapid-fire 4/4 hats atop seasick creaks across the midrange, keeping subtlety and patience in the lower frequencies to maintain the signature elegance readily associated with The Untouchables. 'Phase Correlation' teases an artfully unhinged ripple of synth that stands out amongst the murky murmurs filling out the middle distance, but it's still exercised with brutal precision.
Nothing happens by accident or feels out of place - McGill and Steyns are in total control, and they demonstrate incredible range and inventive approaches within their focused style. The accent of the grooves shifts, and individual sounds carry all kinds of artefacts, yet everything gets folded into the exacting Untouchables sound with a liberal dubwise sensibility. Brimming with inspiration and immaculately produced, on Lost Knowledge their one-of-a-kind sound is stronger than ever.
As trans-Atlantic alchemists pulling from a shared dialectic that somehow encompassed both postmodern deconstructionist tendencies and a delightfully subversive sense of poptimism, it’s easy to see how David Cunningham and Peter Gordon immediately hit it off upon initially meeting each other back in the late-1970s at the height of their youthful transgressions. Having initially worked together on the second Flying Lizards’ LP fourth wall, with its ingenious fusion of dismantled rhythms and rearranged melodies juxtaposed against the slyly sultry singing of Snatch’s Patti Palladin— with Gordon adding a few sprinkles of mischievous sax in the mix— it’s no wonder the collaboration would lead to further musical adventures.
Which leads us directly to the genesis of The Yellow Box. Embarking on a collaborative exercise in the structural repurposing of music as untethered puzzle pieces in need of rearrangement with no predetermined outcomes, the duo gave birth to a project that would see them move through both time and recording studios across Europe, taking nearly two years from 1981-1983 to complete. Enlisting the great Anton Fier on drums from The Feelies/Lounge Lizards nexus and John Greaves on bass from Henry Cow/Soft Heap lore to round out their dueling creative counterparts, the album would be something of a lost treasure until its eventual release on Cunningham’s Piano imprint in 1996.
Cinematic in scope, and filled with drifting drones, beautiful counter-melodies, eery minimalism, Kraftwerkian synthesizers, looped voices, skronky interludes, and other shifting undercurrents of sound, it was an album that utilized both a diverse array of expressive languages, as well as early sampling techniques and prepared instruments, well before most people were thinking in such expansive, integrated terms at the dawn of the 80’s. But such is life at the vanguard of new music. And one of the reasons that it likely sat on the shelf for so long before finally being released well over a decade later. Like a sparser, less groove-oriented version of My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, or a more radical take on the experimental work of Can’s Holger Czukay, The Yellow Box stands at the crossroads of time and technology, fusing multiple strands of musical thought and compositional techniques into a disjointed whole that somehow still comes off as a conceptually complete record.
Now, here it is again, over 40 years later, with perhaps even more historical resonance than it had before, remade and remodeled just waiting to be rediscovered again.
Black Vinyl[45,25 €]
Black Smoke Vinyl[45,25 €]
Jackie Mittoo’s ‘Reggae Magic’ is a new collection from the great Jackie Mittoo. The album features a mixture of classic tunes and rarities from the period 1967-74, when Mittoo was at the height of his musical powers. Mittoo’s solo career began after the end of The Skatalites in 1965. He began pushing new musical boundaries, creating a uniquely identifiable organ-led funky reggae sound that owed as much to Booker T and The MGs, Jimmy Smith, Stax and Motown as to the post-ska and emergent rocksteady island rhythms of Kingston, Jamaica. His solo work at the legendary Studio One spanned seven albums and hundreds of singles.
Aside from producer and founder Clement ‘Sir Coxsone’ Dodd, it’s hard to think of anyone more central to the sound and success of Studio One than Mittoo; keyboard player extraordinaire, songwriter, arranger, musician, truly the Keyboard King at Studio One. Jackie Mittoo had been the youngest founding member of The Skatalites (at age 16), probably the most important group in Jamaican music. After they split, he became leader of the three pivotal groups at Studio One – The Soul Brothers, The Soul Vendors and Sound Dimension. He also became musical director for Studio One, helping create countless hits for singers Ken Boothe, Bob Andy, The Wailers, John Holt, Delroy Wilson and more – unforgettable tunes like Alton Ellis’ ‘I’m Still in Love with You’, Marcia Griffiths’ ‘Feel Like Jumping’, The Heptones’ ‘Baby Why’ and others. Between 1965 and 1968, many of the tunes created at Studio One can be attributed to Mittoo – timeless instrumental tracks, recorded either under his own name or those of The Soul Brothers, Soul Vendors and Sound Dimension, that have become the basis for literally 1000s and 1000s of Jamaican songs over many decades, giving the music an unsurpassed longevity.
The endurance of his music was as a direct result of significant developments in Jamaican music in the 1970s, namely the creation of three important new styles: Dub, Deejay and Dancehall. In the early 1970s Mittoo’s instrumental tracks were used as the musical source for a series of classic Studio One dub albums. At the same time Deejays at Studio One, including Dillinger, Prince Jazzbo and Dennis Alcapone, began toasting over these same popular rhythms to create their own new songs. In the mid-70s, a new generation of Studio One singers and deejays, including Sugar Minott, Freddie McGregor, Johnny Osbourne, Michigan & Smiley and others, began once again creating new melodies over these original instrumentals, signalling the birth of a new Jamaican style that became known as ‘dancehall’.
As dancehall swept across the island, rival producers copied these now classic rhythms. These original Jackie Mittoo-driven tunes spread like a virus throughout Jamaican music; be they the instrumental cuts to tunes such as Alton Ellis’ ‘Mad Mad’ , ‘I’m Just A Guy’, Larry Marshall’s ‘Mean Girl’, Slim Smith’s ‘Rougher Yet’, and instrumentals such as Mittoo’s classic ‘Hot Milk’ or ‘One Step Beyond’, The Sound Dimension’s ‘Real Rock’, ‘Heavy Rock’, ‘Full Up’, ‘Drum Song’, ‘Rockfort Rock’ … and the list goes on. These tracks became a constant soundtrack to the island, emitting from the ever-present sound of speaker boxes strung up around dancehalls. This recycling travelled even farther afield; The Sound Dimension’s instrumental ‘Real Rock’, updated by Willie Williams on his classic ‘Armageddon Time’ was in turn covered by The Clash. Lily Allen sampled Mittoo’s debut solo single ‘Free Soul’ for number one hit ‘Smile’; Dawn Penn’s ‘You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No)’, accompanied by The Soul Vendors, was revived by Penn and producers Steely & Cleevie in 1994, since covered by Rihanna, Ghostface Killah, Stephen Marley, Damian Marley and Beyonce. And so it goes; an endless time-leaping, continent-hopping diasporic musical map of the world with all roads essentially leading back to one man – Jackie Mittoo.
If you're a serious music fan but not a native Kiwi, your first awareness of New Zealand's fab music scene may have come from the debut of The Chills' mesmerising Kaleidoscope World collection of early singles. Within a few years, a great number of NZ acts saw music released by various UK and US labels . . . generally to great praise and enthusiasm. That this occurred without any of these acts having to move abroad to further their chances was nearly as delightful a feat as the music itself. The exception to this was Dead Famous People, radical in a snap decision after a five-song 12" for Flying Nun, Lost Persons Area, to change hemispheres and make a go for it in London. It started well. Three London recordings were added to three from their Flying Nun EP and put out by Billy Bragg's Utility label - about as perfect a mini-album as there's ever been. Response was positive, more songs recorded, the group did a John Peel session and played out often, but the vaguely impoverished group began to fall apart. Singer and primary writer Dons Savage - determined to make it - had a near-miss at becoming Saint Etienne's singer on an early take of their 'Kiss And Make Up' cover, and there was a fine performance from her on The Chills' 'Heavenly Pop Hit' . . . but dismay had set in. Upon learning of her mum's passing back home, Dons returned to NZ and was quiet for decades. Most of their London recordings were later released later in minuscule quantities by very small labels, but these saw scant press or attention and enjoyed next-to-no sales. Their moment had passed, and the band has suffered the strange fate of being the least-known of the truly brilliant acts associated with Flying Nun. Listening to these `lost' songs, it seems unfathomable that they could have fallen by the wayside. No NZ songwriter comes as close to equalling Martin Phillipps' pop brilliance as Dons. Her superbly sweet vocals, delicious harmonies and sophisticated arrangements aside, the songs dealt perceptively with universal follies of youth and yearning in tandem with a then-unusual twist of lyrics dealing matter-of-factly with her sexuality at a time when `women's music' was seen as exclusionary (segregated into its own bin in shops, if it existed there at all), and the riot grrrl movement was years away, later breaking through due to its radical stance. Dons is a pioneer in myriad ways, the irony of her transcendent brilliance failing to propel a greater career may rest in the fact that she leapt to the head of the class too quickly for people to grasp it; a fate that's befallen so many musical geniuses acknowledged today but less in their time - something rather tragically acknowledged in old pal Martin Phillipps' song with The Chills, 'A Song For Randy Newman, Etc.' None of these thirteen songs fails to deliver something both immediate and unique. And we're proud to debut 'Vampirella"', a magical fantasy song of longing and intrigue - surely one of the most perfect tunes to ever sit around unreleased for decades! Dons is again busy conjuring new songs; in the meantime we're delighted to unveil these obscure gems from the past.
Released by Hegoa Records and Night School Records.
Greatest Heads is the fourth album by the radical Basque- Berlinesque group Al Karpenter. A deconstruction of structured “rock” music, here Al Karpenter re-imagine “the band” to explore the intersection between Free music, afro-beat, the avant garde and gonzo rock.
If Theodore Adorno wrote “To Write Poetry after Auschwitz is Barbaric” in 1949, Al Karpenter attempts to answer the difficult question today; what kind of music can be done in the face of a genocide? Álvaro Matilla, Marta Sainz, Enrique Zaccagnini & Mattin’s response to the planet’s slipping into a vortex of hate is to create a music ecstatic, a music of protest bursting with multiple musical languages and glossaries, full of overlapping histories and thrilling tensions.
Greatest Heads posits a plurality of musics both in opposition and intertwined: Al Karpenter play rock instruments pulled apart in the studio in post-production. Distorted rhythm chunks bit-crushed and dissipated, segments of freedom oppressed by waves of sound invading from every direction. The interplay between the chief instrumentalists and renowned, storied sound artist Mattin creates something akin to ESP freedom-seekers Cro Magnon playing in Miles Davis’ early 70s groups, The Los Angeles Free Music Society tightening up into a clenched fist of plunderphonics and runaway percussion.
We Are All Karpenters opens Greatest Heads with the most straight-forward song refrain of the record accompanied by a band that soon crash into eruption, imagining Sun City Girls in full free rock mode.
The modulating synth sound soon sucks the band into its wake to create a spine-chilling climax of distorted sound, made fully orgasmic with mastering engineer Rashad Becker’s attention to detail. On Izugarrizko Buruak (Greatest Heads), Matilla intones in Basque over a mangled distorto-beat. A Brand New Astraphobia creates a black space for a heavily processed guitar to blow up before falling to earth at night, a gentle figure serenading the coming end.
On Side B, the band begins by being masticated by a brutal phaser, squelching and stretching the music into new territories. The overt message of Stop The Genocide! is besieged by violence before Worm City aggressively samples the ghosts of soul music, mixing in noise bursts, prepared piano and swiping, abstracted sound. Epic closer Perfect Love feels like a beat poetry performance on a burnt world, still grasping for community, for home, for some sort of human love. A Mad love, then; an angry love fuelled by solidarity and collaboration.
The band’s cascading layers of references and polyglottal musics attempt to create the perfect lover, alive with rage and disorientating ecstasy: Al Karpenter.
Delving into the Great American Songbook of Howe Gelb, Sandworms is a new collection that rephrases and rephases the legacy of Giant Sand acrossgenerations. This release offers bold reinterpretations from Water From Your Eyes, Deradoorian, Jesca Hoop & John Parish, Lily Konigsberg, Holiday Ghosts, Ella Raphael, Monde UFO, The Golden Dregs, and Gently Tender. The ever-present Giant Sand and their one-man cerebral traveller, Howe Gelb, are anchored by a reputation for idiosyncratic storytelling. A "natural storyteller," Gelb's multifarious musical delivery adds an enduring sense of wonder as he extols the virtues of happenstance. This collection celebrates the esoteric and singular journey Giant Sand have taken, through alt-country, jazz, lo-fi experiments, and beyond, while their legacy is reimagined here by a new generation of artists paying tribute to their lasting influence. Brooklyn duo Water From Your Eyes, known for their stoner humour, fatalistic undercurrents, and art-pop flair, bring a delicate balance of punk riffing and dream-pop escapism to Warm Storm, first heard on Giant Sand's Ramp (1991). Whitney K takes on Happenstance (from 1994's Glum), unravelling its existential puzzles with a whispering baritone that recalls the hushed intensity of Leonard Cohen. Drifting further into orbit, Angel Deradoorian reinterprets Center Of The Universe, the title track from the band's 1992 album, transforming its desert-fried rock into a spaced-out Sun Ra-paced drama. Elsewhere, Yer Ropes, a jaw-dropping highlight from Glum, is taken on by The Golden Dregs, blurring sentimentality and relationship mismanagement into something truly strange and moving. A special collection for both long-time fans and the newly curious, Sandworms: The Songs of Howe Gelb and Giant Sand is released via Fire Records and includes liner notes from Dave Henderson (Mojo).
