Godspeed You! Black Emperor at Fernwood Resort Campgrounds, Big Sur, 4/15/12, and The Great American Music Hall, San Francisco, 4/20/12.
It has been a busy month and I’ve had trouble finding the time and energy to write about music. Record Store Day 2012 has passed, and I’m still listening to my purchases, although only one of them (Circle!) was an actual Record Store Day release. The Big Sur show already seems like it happened a long time ago.
I hadn’t been to the Fernwood Resort before, just as I haven’t ever seen any shows at the nearby Henry Miller Memorial Library, where Folkyeah (who presented this gig) shows often happen. Our tickets included overnight camping, so we packed sleeping bags and a tent and headed south. On Highway 101, somewhere between 152 (which eventually connects travelers to I-5) and 156 (which would take us to Highway One), we zipped past a guy dragging a huge cross southward. If he made it to wherever he was going, I guess there is now another Southern Cross. Now the Black Sabbath song is playing in my head, although it’s mixing strangely with the Ennio Morricone bossa nova CD that is playing on the stereo.
Highway One is beautiful, with its postcard perfect view of the Pacific alone making the trip worthwhile. The nearly 2 hour trip didn’t seem long at all, and soon we were turning down the driveway to the resort. We got there just ahead of the Godspeed tour bus, and actually had to cut short our conversation with the guy at the entrance shack so I could move our van to let it through.
We set up our tent near the river, went on a couple of walks, and had a nice dinner in the little restaurant by the road before eventually gravitating towards the stage area. The stage was set up in front of a large meadow, and it looked like they’d rolled out some new grass for the audience to sit on. Facing the stage, there were four film projectors on a platform. Behind the stage there was a sagging screen which only improved its posture after some hapless road crew member or stagehand struggled with it awhile. The presence of the screen and projectors gave me the feeling that the show wouldn’t start at the advertised time of 6:30. I was right, of course. We sat down early anyway, listening to people congratulating themselves for being there as we waited. Above and beyond us, the light gently faded and shadows marched up the hillsides. A lone bat flittered by, stars quietly appeared, and we watched satellites ghosting across the blackness. Ursa Major could be seen off to our left, doing its slow spin around the North Star.
Watching constellations while waiting for Constellation Records recording artists to get into gear. Yes, I said it.
It was good and dark by the time the band finally appeared onstage, launching the set with Hope Drone as a confusion of images warred on the screen behind them, sometime coalescing into the spidery word “hope”. Like the title suggests, the song is more or less a drone, but a busy one. It’s hard not to produce busy music when your band consists of two percussionists, two bass players, three guitarists, and a violinist. There is an air of expectancy to the song, a feeling of waiting for a momentous event.
The momentous event hinted at during Hope Drone ended up being the rest of the set, which consisted of Albanian, World Police and Friendly Fire, Gathering Storm, Rocket Fall On Rocket Falls, Moya, and BBF3. If I had to pick one song as a favorite, it would probably be Moya, as I always gravitate towards the quiet, violin-driven pieces, but the show was best enjoyed as a whole. The films, mostly black and white, effectively took on the role usually provided by a vocalist, illustrating the music with images of landfills populated by warring cranes, fire blossoming from smokestacks, train journeys to nowhere, and other images evoking a world on the brink of irreversible catastrophe. The sprawling pieces of music build and build, increasing the tension to past the point of no return before smoothing things out with quiet violin melodies. I found myself more engaged this time around than I remember being the last time I saw the band, before their long hiatus. It was nice to occasionally tilt my head back and see the stars twinkling down from the blackness above. It would have been interesting to see the band play to their surroundings rather than their films, but their aesthetic is so rooted in the struggle against tyranny, social collapse, and environmental degradation that it probably wouldn’t have worked. Still, it would have been interesting to see them try.
Check out these photos. Much better than the ones I took.
In the end, they played for around 2 hours. By the time they finished, I was quite cold, despite the fact that I was wearing a hat and scarf. Do to our lack of proper kindling, our feeble attempt at a campfire did little to warm us, so we retired to the tent.
The morning after:
Godspeed, Godspeed! Continue, dubious janitor!
The next day, we hiked up a hill across the road and I took some photos of the view, in which you can see the stage and adjacent meadow. The screen has been taken down, but you can easily see the patch of extra green grass we sat on. That's Highway One off to the right. We also came across a bench with a bit of graffiti that seemed almost tailor-made for the moment, like something that might have been on the screen the previous night (edited to add: it was pointed out by an online friend that this text is from the song Silent Spring, by Blackbird Raum. I own the release, "Swidden", containing that song, but obviously didn't recognize this particular lyrical snippet. The two bands are definitely spiritual kindred though).
For the rest of the week, Godspeed played gigs at The Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. The Monday through Friday shows are available on Archive.org, with only the Big Sur one missing.
Friday evening we showed up at the Great American, and for once parked in the parking garage instead of endlessly circling the blocks around the venue in search of free street parking. Inside, we ran into Greg, Kat, Dax, and Jim. Before too long the opener, Total Life, began. Someone, perhaps Dax, mentioned it was one of the guys from Growing, and a quick search proves this to be true. We were at the back, so I couldn’t really see him. Musically, it was a fluctuating drone that didn’t introduce anything new to the genre. In other words, it was pleasant enough, but in an incidental, background sort of way.
The setlist for the Godspeed gig, with attendant comments and corrections, can be seen here.
Here's a shot of the ceiling at the Great American Music Hall. It's not quite as spectacular as stars, but it's still pretty damn nice:
The following Godspeed set was spectacular, and word has it that they sounded tighter than they did on the previous nights. I haven’t had the time to delve into Archive.org and listen to all of the recordings yet, but I’m sure sooner or later I will. Having the recordings online kind of decreases the necessity of writing a gig review (if one could call this necessary at all), but since Godspeed gigs are also a visual experience, I’ll continue. We were far back enough that it was hard to see the band at all, but I’m sure that was fine with them. After all, that’s why they project the films. The most notable addition to the films this time around was one with text that seemed to bubble and melt as if becoming overheated. Perhaps it was. The band continues to be master of the immersive performance, making us feel like we were transported to Godspeedland for the duration. The set was longer too, which is generally a good thing, although I was well aware of the time because Greg and I were scheduled to fly out of the San Jose airport at 6:30 the following morning. That beats the last time I saw Godspeed at the Great American though. That was way back when I delivered newspapers at night, and actually had to leave for work before their set was over. Thankfully, on that occasion the gig was being simulcast on KFJC, so I listed to the remainder of the performance on the radio on the way to work.
On a side note, apparently every one of the shows was sold out. Good for them!
The next night, in Seattle, where Greg and I had foolishly flown to see the newest Bela Tarr film, “The Turin Horse”, the theater was playing Godspeed before the film started. Synchronicity.
Michael Gira and Sir Richard Bishop at The Great American Music Hall, San Francisco, CA, 3/15/12
A Michael Gira gig is reason enough to play hooky from work, so I shirked my responsibilities and we headed northward. Besides, parking in S.F. on a Thursday night is always easier than trying to do so on the weekend. This was the first gig of a short Western tour, and the first time I’ve seen a Michael Gira solo show in years. Sir Richard Bishop was an unknown quantity to me, although I quickly listened to a few minutes of his solo guitar work online. I don’t always do that, because sometimes it’s fun to be surprised. I guess I wasn’t in the mood for surprise on this particular evening.
As is almost always the case, we got there early. There was a sign on the door stating that photography and/or recording weren't permitted, by request of the artists, so my camera ended up spending the evening in my pocket. A visit to the merch table revealed bucketloads of Richard Bishop stuff, and a couple of Gira items of interest. He’s still selling the “Milk of M. Gira” CD, which is a “best of” compilation of songs from his earlier handmade releases, and there was a book featuring 3 stories from the out-of-print story collection, “The Consumer”, and 5 previously unpublished stories. It also comes with a copy of “The Somniloquist” CD. I bought that and a Swans shirt. I love merch tables.
We elected to remain seated for Sir Richard Bishop’s set, which meant that although we could hear him perfectly, our ability to actually see him was dependent on the whim of the shifting crowd. He introduced his set by holding up a map, explaining in detail where we would be traveling for the next 45 minutes or so. Many exotic locales were indicated, and true to his promise, he took us to all of them. Traveling by guitar is so much cheaper than traveling by plane. His frantic yet precise picking often brought to mind the Middle East, gypsy caravans, and bustling third world marketplaces. The set whipped by like landscape seen through the window of a bullet train, and I went back to the merch table to ensure that I’d be able to listen to Bishop’s music over and over again. I was told that much of what he played could be found on “While My Guitar Violently Bleeds” and “Intermezzo”, so I made them mine.
After a bit of a wait, Michael Gira arrived on stage, sat down, and doffed his white cowboy hat, hanging it on a mic stand to his right. He launched into Jim, following it with Eden Prison and the wonderful Oxygen (introduced as “a song about not being able to breathe”). He was in fine form, with the serene gravitas of his baritone voice filling our ears and making them happy. Maybe I should say, “most of our ears”, because there were a few people chatting nearby. At one point, Gira calmly told them to, “shut the fuck up – I’m playing up here”. More performers should do that. Check out this link for his reaction to some chatter at a show later in the tour. He slipped from song to song like a predator slipping from shadow to shadow, moving through a set of mostly newer songs, including at least one or two destined for the next Swans album (which will feature an impressive array of guests, including Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker of Low). One such song, Song For A Warrior, was written for a 5-year-old, and won’t be sung by Gira on the album (I can’t remember who he said would be singing it). The new songs are all great, but I was happy that he included some old favorites as well, including Blind and an encore of God Damn The Sun. I would have liked to hear Failure, but I can’t complain.
Here's a video of Gira performing Oxygen at the Triple Door in Seattle, later in the tour (originally uploaded by seattleshowgal:
At one point, an audience member, obviously frustrated by his occluded sightline, shouted for Gira to “move the hat!”. Gira didn’t, instead telling the audience member to move. Don’t mess with the hat.
Today is April Fool’s Day, so it has been half a month since this gig happened. The rest of this review was written sometime between then and now, and is finally being posted today. Life has been busy lately, and of course, the more interesting and busy life is, the less time there is to write about it.
Based on the fact that both Barn Owl and Ensemble Economique were playing this show, I figured it would be worth the eighty-something mile round trip. I hadn’t previously heard Date Palms, but figured they’d be good too, based on the company they were keeping on this particular night.
The Lab has been the site of many interesting performances over the years, usually on the braver end of the musical spectrum, out there in the hinterlands where the average music fan fears to tread, using the tired old excuse that, “it’s not really music at all”. It’s a nice little upstairs space, spitting distance from the 16th St. BART station and just around the corner from Aquarius Records. I wasn’t BARTing though, and ended up parking around a mile away, up the hill a bit, where lazy Friday night partiers are reluctant to park. It was a nice night for a walk.
Tonight’s performance also featured the films of local filmmaker Paul Clipson, with the three musical entities providing a soundtrack for his images. I hadn’t previously seen any of Clipson’s work, so I was interested to see what the visual element of the evening would add to the proceedings.
Here's a clip from his 2007 film, Passageways:
As usual, despite a detour into the hallowed halls of Aquarius Records, I got to The Lab early, in time to see soundchecks by Barn Owl and Ensemble Economique.
Eventually, the show commenced. Ensemble Economique, contrary to what one might expect, is just one person – Brian Pyle. I had seen him at The Lab before, and his performance had vaguely reminded me of early Current 93 – lots of electronic loops and foreboding atmospheres. This time out, his performance was relatively song-based, with echoey vocals, percussion loops, spooky keyboard tones, and on the last song, some nice, squalling guitar work. Behind him, the hypnotic images of Paul Clipson added an extra dimension to the performance. Light reflected on water, ghostly evergreens, and other natural images blurred and shimmered. At times, the light seemed to morph into alien writing, as if the film was trying to communicate to the audience on two levels at once. The marriage of sound and light was a good one, although it would have worked even better if Pyle had chosen to perform one long, unbroken piece rather than multiple shorter pieces.
Here's an video from last year, originally uploaded by JOSEPPPPHHHH:
Date Palms played next, starting quietly, with a nice eastern-sounding drone, some quiet guitar, and violin. With four members, the band had more claim to the name “Ensemble” than Brian Pyle did. Behind them, the natural images that accompanied Pyle’s set had changed to grittier, urban images, although with the same almost rhythmic editing and playful focal changes. Date Palms soon provided some rhythm of their own, in the form of an electronic beat, changing the pastoral mood into something a little more immediate. The inclusion of the beat was actually a bit of a letdown for me, but I still enjoyed their set. Unlike the Ensemble Economique set, there were no vocals, and the mood was a little lighter. In retrospect, maybe the urban images would have worked better with Pyle’s set, and the natural images better with the Date Palms’ music.
Here's Date Palms, live in Oakland, originally uploaded by KevinBrownsVideos:
Before Barn Owl played, Jim Haynes mentioned to me that one of their songs had recently been (or will soon be) featured on the TV show “House”. Not being a TV watcher, I haven’t seen the show, but it’s nice for Barn Owl that they’re getting that kind of recognition.
The Barn Owl set, as usual, consisted of Evan Caminiti and Jon Porras on guitar, and this time out, they had a couple of keyboards set up as well. They provided one long, exquisite piece of slowly shifting, melodic guitar drone, which ranged from quiet to an enormous crescendo, and then back again. Each time I see them, they get better, which will definitely keep me coming back for more. The images behind them featured some exquisite macro photography, often featuring invertebrates, aquatic and otherwise. Given my affinity for invertebrates, I found it quite inspiring. In fact, it makes me want to get some equipment and muck about in swamps and ditches.
Here's a YouTube clip from a show in Italy, originally uploaded by thebigpecolaman:
I could have listened to Barn Owl for much longer, but eventually the last note sounded and the last image faded to darkness. I think each artist played for around 40 minutes or so. The addition of the films definitely made this a well-rounded evening, and I’ll definitely be watching out for Clipson’s name in the future. I notice that you can buy a DVD of his work here. What are you waiting for, click the link and click the "buy" button!
English Dogs were another one of those bands that provided part of the soundtrack to my youth. I stumbled across them at about the time they changed from a punk band to a metal band, but never saw them perform back in the eighties. I don’t think they ever played locally back then. In the present, like a great number of other bands from that era, English Dogs are touring the U.S., adding themselves to the long list of resurrected eighties bands I’ve seen in the last couple of years (Amebix, Deviated Instinct, A.P.P.L.E., Asta Kask, etc.).
We started the evening with a very good meal with my brother at the Thai House in Berkeley, and continued it at Devon’s house, hanging out with his dogs, which given the name of the band we were about to see, seemed like an appropriate thing to do. Eventually, we left the little Oakland dogs behind, and headed for the Metro.
We arrived in the middle of Toxic Holocaust’s set, and while I enjoyed their retro Venom/Slayer sound, their inane lyrics were such that I couldn’t take them seriously. They seemed to get a pretty good audience response though.
The Casualties were up next. I hadn’t heard them before, and found myself pleasantly surprised by their high energy hardcore. The vocalist was more toward the screechy end of the spectrum (think Italian hardcore, ala Negazione or CCM), but this was nicely tempered with the sometimes wordless backing vocals. There was a lot of crowd participation, with random audience members appearing on stage to sing along and/or dive off. The pit was a roiling hive of activity, and everybody seemed to be having a good time. I find that I can relate to this kind of audience so much better than they type of audience we found ourselves in the previous night. Punks show so much less restraint. At Michael Schenker, I could imagine the audience members waking up in the morning to go to their dead-end jobs. At this gig, I had a hard time imagining the audience members being employed at all, at least in any traditional sense of the word. It’s also interesting to note that The Casualties, being the most punk band of the evening, chose to cover a Motorhead song. Of course, it was R.A.M.O.N.E.S., so it was a Motorhead song about punk. They also did the opening bit to Iron Maiden’s Run To The Hills. The same night, Motorhead was playing down in the South Bay, so it was nice to get a bit of Motorhead up in Oakland, since we were missing the band’s performance in San Jose. It’s hard to be two places at once.
There was one amusing moment when a guy right in the middle of the pit was calmly texting somebody, and the Casualties’ singer called him on it. By that time, the guy had already walked away though.
English Dogs finished out the evening with an onslaught of old school thrash metal, with guitarist Gizz Butt (last seen playing with Steve Ignorant on the Songs of CRASS tour last year) laying down some nice lead work over the eighties metal riffing and the pounding of double bass drums. They played the entire “Forward Into Battle” album (I think), and followed it up with the “To the Ends of the Earth” mini LP. As an encore, they did one older song, the title of which escapes me. I think the songs sounded better live than they did on vinyl. I’ve always thought the production of their studio releases sounded a little thin, and in fact, at some point I sold my English Dogs records (every so often, I have to make room for new records, and sometimes I need to sell off things to get money for new music – I’m such an addict). It was nice to revisit these songs though, and I’m happy that they sounded so much more powerful live.
Jeanine was of the opinion that the songs all sounded kind of the same, and she liked The Casualties better.
I almost didn’t go to this show, but I took advantage of the fact that my daughter decided to spend the night at her mom’s house, and ended up at the Avalon with Jeanine. Tickets turned out to be $30.00 per person, but since we were already there, we paid up and entered.
I hadn’t seen Michael Schenker on stage since 1984, at Wolfgang’s in San Francisco, and I’d never seen him play with UFO or the Scorpions, although I have seen the Scorpions without him 3 times (in 1980 and 1982). I mention this because as we entered, we were told that he would be playing both Scorpions and UFO songs during the set.
Unfortunately, we were early enough to catch much of Dammaj’s set. They play uninspired, cliché-ridden heavy metal, and weren’t interesting to me at all. They reminded me of all of the times during the eighties when I had to sit through sets by bands like Laaz Rockit and Vicious Rumors while waiting for bands like Exodus and Slayer to play.
Michael Schenker arrived on stage looking like the world’s oldest little boy. He was wearing a blue baseball cap of some sort, backwards, which was a refreshingly non-rockstar piece of headgear. I wish I could say the same for singer Robin McAuley, who looked like he needed to fire his wardrobe consultant. The leopard print scarf and the gaudy necklace were a bit distracting and silly. I’ll stop here though, because this is in danger of becoming a fashion critique.
The band started the set off with Into The Arena and Armed & Ready, both from the first Michael Schenker Group album, released nearly 32 years ago. During the course of the set, they played many other old favorites, including a pair of Scorpions songs, Lovedrive and Another Piece of Meat. As a teenager, I really liked Another Piece of Meat, but as an adult, the song is somewhat ruined for me because of the stupid, misogynistic lyrics. It still has nostalgia value though. Robin McAuley isn’t as good a singer as Klaus Meine either, although he did a decent job. Later in the set, we were treated to a bunch of UFO songs as well, starting with Shoot Shoot, and continuing with Love To Love, Too Hot To Handle, Let It Roll, Natural Thing, and Lights Out. Then, during the 2 encores, the band played Rock Bottom (including an extended solo from Schenker) and Doctor, Doctor, as well as a pair of songs from the second MSG album, On and On, and Attack of the Mad Axeman (earlier, they also played Let Sleeping Dogs Lie, which is one of my favorite songs from that album). Robin McAuley was at his best when singing the UFO songs – I guess he’s best at channeling Phil Mogg, and not quite as good at singing the Gary Barden and Klaus Meine songs. Michael Schenker is still one of a small handful of guitarists who manage to entrance me with whatever amount of self indulgent soloing they choose to do. That said, the newer songs, which I hadn’t previously heard, weren’t that interesting. Thankfully, the bulk of the set was older material.
Here's Love To Love (somewhat marred by stupid people shouting inane things), originally uploaded by thewildwizard:
The main thing that I found irritating about the show had nothing to do with the band. During the set, I was constantly reminded that I hate audiences at rock shows, although it is a hate tempered by amusement. Case in point: the guy in front of us was so smashed that he appeared not to know where the stage was. He was facing sideways, and on several instances nearly fell over. I kept hoping that he wouldn’t puke on me. I think he fell asleep on his feet several times, only to wake up and emit tuneless warbling sounds which may or may not have been an attempt to sing along. Then, there were the drunken forty-somethings off to the left, frantically air-guitaring along to the music, looking for all the world like Beavis and Butthead’s parents. Later, when we were getting into the van to drive away, we were amused to notice the rocker dude who had parked next to us fastidiously wiping the dew from the hood of his car before getting in. Weird. In short, I didn’t have a feeling of camaraderie with my fellow audience members at all. Jeanine put it succinctly: It’s because we don’t drink. Because of this, I often feel like a sociologist at some inexplicable tribal ritual. At least it was a tribal ritual with good music.
Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Matana Roberts at The Great American Music Hall, San Francisco, CA, 2/6/12
Back in August of 2006 I got my first chance to see Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra at this very same venue. It is still a gig that sticks in my mind as being particularly pleasurable, and one that wasn’t long enough, despite the fact that the set lasted for around 2.5 hours. At the time, I believe they were billed as Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-La-La Band, and I remember that they had more members than the five who graced the stage for the gig being reviewed here.
This is the first time they’ve been back in San Francisco since then, and this time they brought fellow Constellation recording artist, Matana Roberts, along for the ride.
I’d heard some excerpts from Roberts’ CD, “Coin Coin”, and liked what I’d heard, so I was interested in discovering what her live set would be like. As it turned out, she performed a set of solo saxophone pieces based on journal entries from the little red journal in which she’d entered impressions of different places she’d been. During the music, the audience was quiet enough that you could every breath and every click of the saxophone keys, and between songs the audience was exuberant enough that Roberts expressed a desire to take us all back home with her. The songs covered a range of emotions, sometimes feeling hushed and haunted, and at other times cascading from the stage in a flurry of notes. Early on, she established a good rapport with the audience, telling little stories (the one about the various mispronunciations of her name was particularly funny – would you believe “Montezuma”?) and having lots of good things to say about the venue and the audience. She also mentioned that she’d been too lazy to pack any CDs to sell, but that she would upload a new recording for free download when she had a moment. I notice that there are actually some live recordings available here, but as of yet, haven’t downloaded them.
Speaking of downloading, the Silver Mt. Zion set has already been uploaded to Archive.org, where you can also find their set from the 2006 Great American Music Hall show (among many others), so if you just want to hear the music, exit now and go download it. If you actually care what I think, continue reading.
The Orchestra has now been pared down to 5 members; Efrim Menuck on guitar and vocals, Sarah Moss on violin and vocals, Sophie Trudeau on violin and vocals, Thierry Amar on bass (both electric and upright) and vocals, and David Payant on drums and vocals. Given that, with the exception of David Payant, all of these musicians are (or have been) involved with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, there is a similarity between the two. The main thing that sets them apart is the vocals (Godspeed have none, and Silver Mt. Zion have many). Menuck’s brittle, forceful voice cuts through the lush, post-rock epics like a hot wire though Styrofoam, reminding me that for some, his voice is an acquired taste. In fact, this seemed to be the topic of discussion amongst at least one group of people we passed on the way back to the car later – the main point being that his voice works better in a live context than it does on the Orchestra’s recordings. This may be true, but then again I like his voice on the recordings too. In addition to Menuck, the other members all chimed in on vocals as well, and near the end of the closing encore song, God Bless Our Dead Marines (this, along with Blind,Blind,Blind, are the only two songs repeated from their set in 2006) it sounded like most of the audience was singing along as well, to powerful and beautiful effect. The general mood of the songs and lyrics is one of anger and hope, communicated through songs that build and build, with occasional dips into quite violin passages and hushed vocals. Early in the evening, Menuck himself half-jokingly described one of the songs as, “another gloomy post-rock number”, which is also quite apt.
At the beginning of the set, to cheering from the audience, Menuck dedicated the evening to the Occupy Oakland protesters. Given the band’s outspoken stance on political and social issues, this was not surprising at all.
The setlist for the evening was as follows:
13 Blues for 13 Moons (from “13 Blues for 13 Moons”),
There is a Light (from “Kollaps Tradixionales”),
What We Loved Was Not Enough (from “The West Will Rise Again”),
Black Waters Blowed/Engine Broke Blues (from “13 Blues for 13 Moons”),
Take Away These Early Grave Blues (new song!),
Blind, Blind, Blind (from “13 Blues for 13 Moons”),
Horses in the Sky (from “Horses In the Sky”),
God Bless Our Dead Marines (from “Horses In the Sky”).
After What We Loved Was Not Enough, prompted by questions about the upside-portrait of Canadian prime minister Stephen Harper hanging behind the drum set, Menuck explained in detail about why Harper is a truly evil motherfucker. We were enlightened and entertained. Speaking of which, if you agree with this sentiment, you might want to join this group.
The new song, Take Away These Early Grave Blues, clocking in at slightly under 12 minutes, was the shortest song of the evening. It is a forceful song with chanted vocals, churning guitar, and pounding drums. By Silver Mt. Zion standards, it’s almost a punk song.
The evening was rounded out very nicely by half of the “Horses In the Sky” album, which is my favorite release from the band to date. The band played slightly over 2 hours. Hopefully it won’t be another 5 or 6 years until they play locally again. They’re definitely on my “do not miss” list.
At the merch table, the band was selling a brand new double 7” called “The West Will Rise Again” and a nice tour shirt, as well as some of their earlier releases. The 7” is very nice, featuring 3 songs (one split over 2 sides) and a couple of inserts. At least one capitalist is already trying to gouge potential customers on discogs.com for it. Buy it from the band, if you can.
When we exited the club, we discovered it had finally started to rain.
Ghost, Blood Ceremony, and Ancient VVisdom at the Bottom of the Hill, San Francisco, CA, 2/1/12
Last year, I was very disappointed when Ghost was dropped from the tour with Enslaved and Alcest due to visa problems. Fortunately, 2012 is shaping up to be the year of Ghost, with not one, but two tours featuring the band. This tour, ended now, had them in the headlining slot, and in a couple of months they’ll be opening for Opeth and Mastadon in a much larger venue.
The Bottom of the Hill is not a large venue. In fact, I was surprised that Ghost ended up playing there instead of someplace slightly larger, like Slim’s or the Great American Music Hall. Sometimes I forget that despite the massive amount of underground hype, they’re still a young band with only one full-length release and one 7” to their name. As for the hype, predictably it has divided people. It’s always tempting to react against hype, since it can be calculated and misleading (and to my mind, those two descriptors are usually synonymous), but in this case, I think it has been fueled by something more genuine. To put is simply, Ghost write memorable songs. It also doesn’t hurt that they are anonymous, with members hooded and masked at all times, ala The Residents or early Kiss. Mystique can be a helpful thing, if it is done right and taken in the proper spirit.
The opening band, Ancient VVisdom, was already on stage when we got to the venue. I’m used to shows at the Bottom of the Hill starting closer to 10:00, but in this case it probably started at 9:00, meaning that we probably missed the first 10 or 15 minutes of Ancient VVisdom’s set. The first noticeable thing was that the drums were right at the front of the stage and festooned with deer antlers and skulls. The drummer played standing up, and sang as well. Their music featured acoustic guitar passages in amongst the more raucous elements, and their sound was a bit hard to pin down. One might lazily group the band under the convenient “stoner rock” label, but that doesn’t quite fit. At times, they reminded me of the old Swedish band, Stillborn, and at other times of Tenebre, who coincidentally also hail from Sweden. Perhaps they were picked for the tour due to the Swedishness of their sound. The element in common with these bands is metal played at the rock end of the spectrum, with no shortage of groove. The drums were loud and in your face, as one might expect from a drummer who plays standing, and the vocals ranged from gruff to quiet and melodic. Their set didn’t make my jaw drop or anything like that, but they came across as a solid and enjoyable opening band. Now that I’ve had a chance to listen to their album, “A Godlike Inferno”, I must add that the recorded versions of their songs are quieter and more nuanced. The promo sticker on the album cover states that the disc will appeal to fans of Death In June, amongst others. This struck me as strange, because their live set didn’t once remind me of Death In June. However, the studio recordings occasionally do.
Blood Ceremony was up next, and came across like Black Sabbath with female vocals, right down to the fringed Ozzy-like jacket that singer Alia O’Brien wore. In addition to the Sabbath-inspired bluesy riffing, their sound featured some nice flute playing and keyboard work from O’Brien. That said, the whole occult angle of their lyrics sounded a bit forced, like they were trying too hard. That aside, they played an enjoyable set.
Finally, as the room filled with incense smoke, the moment arrived for Ghost to ascend the stage. The level of expectation was high, perhaps due to the theatrical element of their show, and perhaps also due to the fact that this was the first time most audience members would get to see the band. Whatever the reason, the sold out crowd pressed forward and empty spots near the stage were quickly filled by pushy latecomers. The band soon appeared, with hooded and cloaked musicians silently assuming their positions as the vocalist, Papa Emeritus, looking like the exhumed corpse of a satanic cardinal, approached the mic. Up close, it was obvious that what looks like a mask is actually a combination of prostheses, stage make-up, and contact lenses. It’s quite effective too. After a short, spooky intro, the band launched into their set, starting with Con Clavi Con Dio and Elizabeth, and proceeding through every song from their album, “Opvs Eponymovs”, including their spooky cover of the Beatles’ Here Comes the Sun. The band sounded great, sucking energy from a rabid crowd, many of whom sang along with nearly every song. In fact, I haven’t seen this much singing from an audience since the Amebix shows back in 2009. I had expected that from the audiences at the Amebix gigs, due to the near legendary status of the band, but at a gig played by a band with only one album under their belt? Quite unusual to say the least. This brings me back to the point that I made earlier. Ghost write memorable songs. The melodic vocal lines stick in my head. Sure, there is a big Mercyful Fate influence permeating their music, but the similarity isn’t so great that you could call them plagiarists or clones. And sure, if one discounts their lyrics about Satan and human sacrifice, their sound is actually quite accessible (which by itself will turn some people off), but so what? This type of stuff powerfully reminds me of childhood, back when my brain wasn’t overstuffed with musical experiences, back when each new song I heard was truly exciting. The best was saved for last, in the form of Ritual, with communion wine and everything. No encore was played, although if the band had been willing, I’m sure we all would have happily called them back again and again.
Here's a Youtube clip, uploaded by Evilcarlos:
Check out Umlaut’s review here, for stories of hobnobbing and such, as well as his thoughts on the following gig in Hollywood.
For some reason, I’m continuing to buy into the tradition of creating an annual “best of” list. As always, the list is entirely subjective, and I’m aware that most people couldn’t care less about what I think, just as I’m sure that everybody has different ideas about what the top releases of the year were. Still, my formative years as a music listener were as part of a local music community (emphasis on the word community), and because of this, I continue to enjoy finding common ground with other music listeners. That means I’ll continue reading other peoples’ lists and continue posting my own. I get a kick out of seeing some of the same albums on the annual lists of other writers. The other reason I create these lists is simply for my own reference in years to come.
I’ve noticed that many of the music blogs I read are very genre-specific, while this one is and always will be as varied and general as my musical tastes. Does that interest readers, or frustrate them? Not that I plan to change, but I’d be interested in feedback.
I got 169 releases this year, and of the ones that were actually issued in 2011, the following were my favorites:
Yat-Kha “Live at the Stray Dog” - I had noticed this album mentioned on the band’s website, but couldn’t find it for sale anywhere. Then, last week, I discovered that it’s available for free download on their Bandcamp page. It features some songs from their latest studio album, “Poets and Lighthouses”, which was on my year-end list of favorites in 2010, and also earlier songs, including covers and Tuvan traditional songs. If you like your Tuvan music heavy, with lots of guttural Kargyraa singing and electric guitars, go download this. Go download it regardless. It’s great.
Murder In The Front Row, by Brian Lew and Harald Oimeon. This is a photographic journey through my roots as an underground music fan, chronicling the San Francisco Bay Area thrash metal scene in the early eighties, when bands like Exodus, Metallica, Slayer, Megadeth, and others were pimply-faced teenagers. I was a pimply-faced teenager too, as can be seen in the book. Yes, that’s Cliff Burton stabbing me in the neck with a pencil on page 116. I was 15 then. I don’t listen to much so-called “thrash metal” these days, but I remember fondly seeing all of these bands in little clubs for next to nothing, and I remember even more fondly the sense of community. I’m glad that Brian and Harald were in the habit of bringing their cameras with them, because I wasn’t. It’s too bad I didn’t obsessively chronicle my music habit back then. Nonetheless, I contributed to this book in a small way, by allowing Brian to plunder my archives for flyers and related detritus. Even so, my archives are but a pale reflection of his, because he kept just about everything. In a way, this book serves as a predecessor to this blog, since what you read on this site is no less than my own personal chronology, from the standpoint of a music fan.
Since I’m in a mood for reminiscence, I’ll share a link to a video of an entire Stikky set at Gilman St. from New Year’s Eve, 1987 (although the band kept insisting that it was actually the beginning of 1978. Comedy punk at its finest. Note the constant barrage of Isocracy garbage. Every time they played, Isocracy would to bring as much trash as they could find, absolutely laying waste to any venue they performed at. See me as a 20 year old, being annoying. That’s me with the long, blonde hair, popping up on stage every so often. Between “Murder In The Front Row” and this video, I feel that my youthful live music experiences are pretty well summed up. Thanks to my old friend Sylvia for mentioning me in a comment about this video on Facebook. Otherwise, I might not have seen it.
Live shows:
I didn’t see too many live shows this year. During the Summer, I don’t think I saw any at all. I kind of made up for it late in the year though. Below I’ve listed my favorites. For some reason, the majority of my favorite gigs of 2011 were in the first few months, but most of my favorite releases appeared towards the end of the year. Note: these are in descending chronological order, with the exception of my very favorite gig of the year, which is at the top of the list.
I’m already looking forward to the coming year, with tickets in hand for Ghost (Swe), Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra, and Godspeed You Black Emperor. Also on the horizon are local appearances by Antisect and English Dogs, and both Black Sabbath and Dead Can Dance have announced imminent tours. It looks like a good year to be a music fan.
There aren’t any specific releases I’m excited about currently scheduled for release in the coming year, other than the long awaited pair of new releases from Kathleen Yearwood, which I really hope finally see the light of day in 2012. As of this writing the year is only a day old though, and I’m sure much musical delight is in the offing.
Welcome to the final installment of my 2011 series of music reviews. The sheer number and quality of the albums that have come to me in the final days of the year is such that I’ve been hard pressed to do them justice here. I’m not yet sure if I’ll be continuing this into 2012, since it does take up quite a bit of time. I write these reviews mostly for myself, because I’ve found that the whole process of reviewing a release causes me to focus more intently on listening to the music, as well as occasionally inspiring me to do related research. That said, if anybody out there in internet-land has been enjoying these reviews over the course of the year, and would like to see them continue, let me know in the comments. It just might tip the balance.
In Gowan Ring “Webs Among the Din Volume 3” cdr (self-released, 2011)
I like it when B’ee goes on tour, because even when he is touring prohibitively far away, it almost always means that he’ll release a cdr to help offset the cost of the tour. Discogs credits this release to In Gowan Ring, but nowhere on the disc cover does the band name actually appear. These days, when B’ee releases music, it is under the name Birch Book, but in the end it doesn’t really matter what name to put in front of the music (unless you’re attempting to write a review, or perhaps if you’re a closet accountant). This disc is a mixture of live and studio tracks, and of originals and covers. As is often the case, the disc is bracketed by an instrumental piece which opens the proceedings and is reprised at the end. The hushed solemnity of these two songs, entitled Persephone Awakens and Persephone Sleeps, beautifully enfold the others, setting the mood at the beginning, and easing the listener back into silence at the end. They also lend an air of cohesiveness to what is essentially a collection of songs recorded at different times rather than a proper studio release. A handful of covers grace this disc, starting with Robin Williamson’s gentle October’s Song (originally from the first Incredible String Band LP). The song Snowcloud is credited to G. Rolfe, aka Gifford Rolfe of the band Skybird (on the Kissing Spell label, so it must be obscure indeed). It has a pastoral, folky feel to it, much like the Williamson song. My favorite amongst the cover songs is the beautifully melancholy Evening Air, by the mighty C.O.B., originally released on their record “Spirit of Love”. The final cover song, No Other, from the album of the same name by Gene Clark, is nice, but doesn’t reach the heights attained by Evening Air. The original songs are varied. Ritual I and Ritual II, both recorded in Berlin with Michael Northam and Melanie Velarde joining B’ee, and featuring a variety of bells and distant pluckings and tootings, sound like they could be used in a ritual. White Angel, the only song here to have appeared on a Birch Book release, is one of my favorite Birch Book songs to date, and here benefits from the full band treatment. The backing band for this song and the following one, the haunting, slightly mediaeval-sounding Boat of the Moon (which also appeared on the first “Webs Among the Din” release) is no other than Swedish band Lisa O Piu. It’s especially nice to hear Lisa O Piu bandleader Lisa Isakkson’s beautiful backing vocals on the latter. Track 7, entitled Seven Sevens, was “collaged from improvisation” in Berlin, and hearkens back to the playfulness of both early In Gowan Ring and B’ee’s initial solo releases, although with some added musical maturity. In fact, there is a distinct eastern feel to the piece, with sitar drones and all. The bright sound of bowed metal (musical saw?) keeps the tone light though. The chiming guitar of Song for Isabel seems to wash over the listener like a moonlit waterfall. The song is both languid and haunting, and is another of my favorites here. Persephone Sleeps closes out the album in more mediaeval fashion than the disc opener, thanks to the recorder of Gunhild Anderson and some beautiful wordless vocals. Of the three “Webs Among the Din” releases so far, I think this one hangs together best. It feels more like a proper album release than the others. I’m not sure if there are any of these left (limited to 69 copies), but by all means follow the link above and check (edited to add: it's now sold out). It’s definitely worth having.
Stone Breath “The Aetheric Lamp” CD (Hand/Eye, 2011)
Less than a month after I got the Stone Breath/Mike Seed and the Language of Light split LP, The Stone Breath side has appeared on CD with 7 extra songs, making it an actual full-length album. And what an album it is! This just might be my favorite Stone Breath release to date. The songs are expansive psychedelic masterpieces, and now that I’ve heard a whole album’s worth of songs with Don Belch on guitar, I must say that his style is a perfect fit for the songs of Stone Breath. His quick flurries of notes skitter over the sedately paced songs, offsetting the slow percussion and other instruments quite well. In addition to 6 and 12 string guitars, he plays dulcitar, harmonium, and drones. TimeMOTHeye plays an interesting array of instruments, including banjo, cello-banjo, moon guitar, wood flute, dumbek, percussion, guimbri-banjo, gopichand, melodic, dulcitar, banjola, and stick dulcimer. Brooke Elizabeth supplies vocals and percussion, and Carin Wagner Sloan (of The Iditarod) sings. Their combined talents produce songs with an Eastern feel, although the banjo pulls them westward. It’s a marvelous combination of sounds. Beautiful and Terrible, all 24 seconds of it, introduces the disc with female vocals closely following a slowly-picked banjo melody. The Voice of Thunder could be the soundtrack for a desert caravan, with its resonant dumbek, haunting guitar flurries, and the mysterious chiming of another instrument that I can’t immediately identify (perhaps a dulcitar). Brooke Elizabeth’s vocals have a yearning quality to them that is perfect for this song. The Sleeping Rise has a faster rhythm, and timeMOTHeye’s voice joins the fray, harmonizing with Elizabeth’s. The rest of the album follows in similar fashion, with the banjo and guitar complementing each other beautifully, and the mood always mysterious. TimeMOTHeye’s vocals sound great on this release, although it’s quite nice that Brooke Elizabeth and Carin Wagner Sloan are here as well. As always, the lyrics are a fascinating mixture of natural imagery and biblical references, of Earth and apocalypse. The lightning fast guitar and banjo interplay towards the end of Holywater brings to mind an avian battle, frantically spiraling downward. Following this, we have the powerful, slow dumbek rhythm of Terrible and Beautiful, which takes us back into the same territory as The Voice of Thunder, although here a harmonium drone has replaced the dulcitar. I’ve mentioned The Sky’s Red Tongue and Scorpion Tears in last month’s review, but I must add that they sound even better within the context of the full album. The apocalyptic final song, The Coming Fires, sung by Carin Wagner Sloan (I think) and timeMOTHeye, has taken up residence in my head. I find myself singing it at odd times during the day. It has one of those infectious melodies that just doesn’t let go. This is my new favorite Stone Breath album, knocking “The Silver Skein Unwound” out of first place. Favorite songs on here are The Voice of Thunder and The Coming Fires. Beautiful stuff.
Umberto “From the Grave” (Permanent Records, 2010)
First issued on cdr and cassette in 2009, this is Umberto’s first album, and after hearing their second release, “Prophecy of the Black Widow” (reviewed last month), I decided that I had to own this one as well. It’s a good thing a local record store had a copy in stock. I order a lot of music online, but it’s always nice to just walk into a store and buy it. “From the Grave” isn’t quite as good as “Prophecy of the Black Widow”, but it’s definitely not bad either. This means that the band is progressing in the right direction, getting better with each subsequent release. Let’s hope that trend continues. Like “Prophecy…”,this album is pure old school Italian horror soundtrack tribute, with vintage seventies keyboards and funky, pulsing bass. It oozes eerie atmosphere too, although with albums like this, I wonder how much of the eeriness I perceive is due to association. For instance, when I hear the creepy background melody and driving beat of Forsaken Dawn, point-of-view images from late seventies/early eighties Argento films play in my head. Would somebody who had no interest in Italian horror films hear this music the same way? The layered keyboards, with ominous grittiness offset by synthetic choral pieces, really take me back to the exciting days when I was first introduced to the music of Goblin and the films of Argento and Fulci. The combination of images and music coming out of Italy in those days was something special. Nobody did it like the Italians. Umberto has really gone for the total effect with this record, making a soundtrack for a film in the listener’s mind. The first song is entitled Opening Credits, while the last one, of course, is called End Credits. There is also a Dream Sequence, a short Intermission, and a Shower Scene. I love it! The cover art looks like it could have adorned the box of an eighties-era VHS tape, with skulls aplenty. The sound is as authentic as it gets without actually being authentic. Somebody hire this band to do a soundtrack! My favorite song on here is probably the throbbing It Came From the Swamp. I love the gritty keyboard sound on this track – it’s the kind of keyboard sound that always precedes something horrible happening on the screen, like the sudden appearance of a zombie covered in open wounds writhing with maggots or worms, ala Lucio Fulci. Prospective buyers should start with “Prophecy of the Black Widow”, since it’s even better than this one, but this LP is definitely worth having as well. There is also a new Umberto 7” that came out earlier this year, but I haven’t heard that one yet. I’ll have to remedy that (and I did – see somewhere below).
While buying the Umberto record reviewed above, I did some browsing and discovered this CD. That’s why I like going to record stores – the impulse buys! This release managed to make it all the way into the stores without creating so much as a blip on my radar. It’s refreshing when that happens. It reminds me of being a teenager, back when I seldom knew in advance what I might find at the record store. That sense of adventure is largely missing from my life now. If a person lives as long as the time between the last June Tabor/Oyster Band collaboration and this one, he or she would be of legal drinking age, so this release has been a long time coming, to say the least. As always, this is a mixture of traditional songs and covers. June Tabor is a folk diva in the truest sense of the word, masterfully singing the songs of others. The presence of the Oyster Band revs things up a notch, kicking the songs into high gear. Tabor has long been one of my favorite singers. Her voice is rich and nuanced, adding depth to anything it touches. The disc starts promisingly with Bonny Bunch of Roses, a ferocious number detailing an “imagined conversation between Napoleon’s second wife, the Empress Marie Louise, and their young son”. This is followed by a PJ Harvey song entitled That Was My Veil, but like everything June Tabor touches, it sounds like a June Tabor song, which is funny because Tabor doesn’t write songs. Tabor and the Oyster Band also tackle Joy Division’s oft-covered Love Will Tear Us Apart, Bob Dylan’s Seven Curses, Shel Silverstein and Jim Freidman’s The Hills Of Shiloh, and Chips Moman and Dan Penn’s The Dark End of the Street. Of these, The haunting Hills Of Shiloh is my favorite. It’s nothing like the sillier side of Silverstein one sees in books like “Where The Sidewalk Ends”. It’s about as serious as you can get, being a song about a Civil War battle during which nearly 24,000 soldiers died. The first version of The Dark End of the Street that I can remember hearing is the Diamanda Galas version from “The Sporting Life” album, and while I still prefer that version, this one is definitely nice too, with Tabor trading lines with one of the Oyster band members. There are brief liner notes on the origins of the traditional songs, which definitely adds to the listening experience, especially if you, like me, enjoy learning about the history surrounding the words. Son David is an alternate title for the Child Ballad Edward, a song that I’ve heard many versions of over the years. It is aptly described in the liner notes as “an ancient ballad of mindless violence, fratricide and exile”, and is a conversation between a mother and her murderous son. Throughout the album, the brave voices of Oyster Band members John Jones, Alan Prosser, and Ray Cooper can be heard. I say “brave” because you have to be brave to sing on the same album as Tabor, because you’re always going to be playing second fiddle, as it were. Still, they get the job done nicely, and add another dimension to the songs. The instrumentation utilized includes melodeon, mandolin, bass guitar, drums, harmonium, guitars, kantele, fiddle, and mandola, although sometimes, like on the beautiful (When I Was No But) Sweet Sixteen, the band takes the a capella route. This is followed by Judas (Was A Red-headed Man), a propulsive Spring carol that brings to mind songs like Johnny O’Bredislee/Glory of the West from Tabor’s brilliant “Aleyn” album. Tabor can wring more emotion from these songs than just about anybody I can think of at the moment. I’ve heard the following song, If My Love Loves Me before too, but this version, with Tabor’s majestic voice and the exquisite fiddling of Alan Prosser and Ian Telfer, is among the best I’ve heard. Fountains Flowing has the same melody as A Blacksmith Courted Me, making it sound quite familiar (coming back to folk music, as I did, through listening to bands like Sol Invictus, who covered Edward, and Current 93, who did a version of A Blacksmith Courted Me, it always nice to hear musicians from the traditional folk world doing versions of these songs). Come to think of it, I’ve heard nearly every song on here before, making this release sound like an old friend from the very first time I listened to it. It’s a good thing that most of these songs are so timeless and excellent. That said, my favorite Tabor moments are always when she is at her most wrenching and miserable, and this album, like her earlier collaboration with The Oyster Band, is generally more upbeat, so while I quite like it, it’s not my absolute favorite. It is the better of the two collaborative albums though, and like anything Tabor is involved with, quite recommended.
I stumbled across Tyr around the time of their “Eric the Red” release, which I thought was pretty good. The next thing I know, they were touring as part of Paganfest. I caught their criminally truncated set (they only played about 20 minutes) and based on the strength of that performance (in particular the song Sinklars Visa from their then about to be released 4th album, “Land”), decided to buy their other releases. I’ve bought every new one since then, although I still haven’t picked up their debut. It took me awhile to pick this one up, simply because I thought last year’s “By the Light of the Northern Star” was a step down from “Land”, but eventually it found its way into my hands and ears. Tyr hail from the Faroe Islands and play what is commonly described as “Viking metal”. Four of the songs here are either Faroese or Danish traditional songs, although only two of them feature traditional lyrics. The mostly mid-paced songs are quite melodic, with soaring vocal harmonies and an almost progressive rock or power metal feel to the music. The choruses are occasionally delivered in rapid-fire fashion without sacrificing melody. There are two bonus tracks, nice covers of Black Sabbath’s I from “Dehumanizer”, and Rainbow’s Stargazer, from “Rising”, both originally sung by Ronnie James Dio. That said, I find my mind wandering during many of the songs here. The album doesn’t hook me in as effectively as some of their earlier ones did. It’s definitely a solid release, but there are no standout tracks, although Take Your Tyrant comes close. It could almost be an anthem for the current Occupy movement. “Bid him bleed for all his greed” indeed. The Following song, the relatively gentle Evening Star, with its thundering, epic chorus and nice guitar work, is also nice. In short, I found this release solid but unsurprising. I like being surprised by music. I’ll still pull out “Land” first when I want to listen to Tyr.
I first heard of this release via Andria Degens of Pantaleimon fame, who mentioned it on her website (or perhaps her Facebook page) sometime last year. She co-wrote a couple of the songs on here, and sings on them too. I figured that was a good sign, but put off getting the album until recently. What finally convinced me was listening to some of the songs online and discovering that they were beautiful. Luup (there should be umlauts over the vowels, but I’m not savvy enough to make that happen) is masterminded by flautist Stelios Romaliadis, and is a project with no geographical or musical boundaries, which is another way of saying that it’s an interesting international collaboration. The music on here is orchestral and reflective in nature, with cello and viola being among the most commonly recurring instruments. Not to mention the graceful flute embellishments of Romaliadis. Vocalists include the aforementioned Degens, as well as Lisa O Piu’s Lisa Isaksson. Both women have beautiful, beguiling voices, perfectly suited for the gentle, spiritual melancholy of the music. Isaksson co-wrote and sang on the opening song, Horse Heart, which opens the album with gentle, orchestral splendor. Her crystalline voice drifts languidly over a Spring field where cello, viola, and double bass intermingle with flute, glockenspiel, balalaika, harp, zither, mellotron and bells, setting the pastoral scene for the rest of the music to follow. On Cream Sky, Lefteris Moumtziz takes over vocal duties, reminding me a bit of Brenden Perry of Dead Can Dance. The vocal style is similar, at least. In fact, the general feeling I get from the music on this CD is similar to the one I get from listening to Dead Can Dance – the feeling of looking into a long gone world of mystery, back when music was created for overtly spiritual reasons. Spiraling and See You In Me, whichboth feature some great flute work by Romadiadis, are sung (as well as co-written) by Degens, making them sound a bit like Pantaleimon songs, although with flute and cello (on the latter) replacing the harmonium drones favored by Degens on her Pantaleimon albums. The other songs, although without vocals, are nearly as beguiling as those already mentioned, engendering a feeling of peace in the listener (or in me, at least), and melting away mundane cares. The final song, Northern Lights, is just multi-tracked solo flute, and it’s a perfect way to end the album. The disc comes packaged in a beautiful DVD-sized foldout sleeve, and if you buy it directly from Experimedia, they’ll throw in a very good download-only companion album of remixes. I think this is going to make it onto my best of the year list. I’m also going to have to get a copy of the first Luup release.
Krux “III: He Who Sleeps Amongst the Stars” (GMR, 2011)
Krux features none other than Candlemass founder and bassist Leif Edling, and that fact alone is enough for me to sit up and pay attention. I’ve been a Candlemass fan since they were called Nemesis, although I have to admit that I’ve never been too fond of Messiah Marcolin’s vocals, preferring the various other Candlemass vocalists, with the exception of Thomas Vikstrom, who sang rather blandly on the band’s “Chapter VI” album. Krux vocalist Mats Leven has just the right amount of gravel in his voice, at times sounding like a classic rock vocalist. The heavy presence of keyboards occasionally brings to mind bands like Rainbow. The title track kicks the album off in uptempo, galloping fashion before the second track, The Hades Assembly, takes a left turn into a more ominous neighborhood, sounding very much like Candlemass, albeit a Candlemass more reliant on keyboards. At the moment, this is my favorite song on the disc. The lyrics remind me of more than one novel I’ve read, but I’m not sure if this was inspired by a specific story or not. In fact, most of the song titles on this release sound like they could be book titles. In general, the lyrics cover the big topics - good and evil, life and death, angels and demons – but do it in an almost folk tale fashion. Only the closing song, A Place of Crows, dispenses with the storytelling approach, instead opting for nearly nonsensical rhyming verses (for instance: “Winds and grain/Birds and stains/Screaming brains”). This song aside, the lyrics remind me of Ronnie James Dio era Rainbow, with the song Stargazer springing first to mind (Dio always did like writing sword & sorcery tinged lyrics about good and evil). This has a heavier, gloomier vibe than Rainbow though. The diabolical sounding main riff to 10 minute plus Prince Azaar and the Invisible Pagoda sounds familiar, although I can’t place it. Maybe it just sounds like Candlemass in a general sort of way. The song itself is a mini-epic, broken down into 5 parts and including quieter passages and narration. My only complaint about this song is that occasionally the storytelling seems to take precedence over attention to lyrical flow. Sometimes too many words are jammed into too tight a space. It’s a minor complaint though, and I do like the song. Overall, this is a solid release, and if you like Candlemass and/or so-called epic doom metal in general, you’ll probably enjoy this. It’s at least as good as, if not better than, the first two Krux albums.
Tim Eriksen “Star In The East” (self released, 2011)
A Tim Eriksen Christmas album! Great! I originally stumbled across his music back in the nineties by hearing a song by his band, Cordelia’s Dad, on a Folk Roots compilation CD, and I’ve tried to pick up everything he has released since then. Despite being an atheist, I can get into Christmas songs for the simple reason that they remind me of childhood. Of course, the versions of Christmas songs omnipresent in stores at this time of year usually drive me crazy. Tim Eriksen plays them like they might have been played at home in December some indefinite period of time in the past, with family gathered around the fireplace and the horses out in their stables munching on hay. Of course, snow has to be drifting down to complete the picture. Perhaps there is a Christmas tree filling the room with the scent of pine or fir. Eriksen masterfully sings these songs, accompanying himself on a bajo sexto, a 12-stringed guitar primarily used in Mexican music. For me, his voice is like an old friend. He has one of those earthy, almost rustic-sounding voices, like he has just put down the plow and stopped to sing awhile. He combines this sound with a skill that is truly professional though. He is joined on this recording by Peter Irvine on drums, and Eliza Cavanaugh provides some nice backing vocals on the manger-rock of Star in the East. There are 14 songs here, ranging from some that I’ve never heard before to old favorites. Despite its religious content, I’ve always loved O Come Emmanuel, and it’s probably my favorite tune on this release. God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, The First Noel, Angels We Have Heard On High, and of course Silent Night are also familiar to me, and are all delivered with aplomb. Silent Night is sung wordlessly, as if Eriksen was recorded puttering around the house, half-singing it to himself. How many of us are guilty of the same? The brief, a capella Morning Star is another highlight, with Eriksen really belting out the lines. We’re also treated to a beautiful instrumental version of Join the Chorus, performed on a jaw harp and percussion. Sure, this is a seasonal album, and it’s not likely to get a lot of play once the holidays are over, but there’s always next year, and the year after that, and so on… And it’s a hell of a lot better than the Christmas crap they play in stores.
Fear “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” 7” (The End, 2011)
Having long been a fan of Fear’s 1982 “Fuck Christmas” 7”, I was interested to see that a new Fear Christmas 7” had been released. Strangely, it seems that Fear singer Lee Ving has changed his mind about Christmas sometime during the intervening 29 years. What we get here is a straight cover of the title track, even going so far as to keep the kinder, gentler version, with the changes that songwriter Hugh Martin made after Judy Garland, “Meet Me In St. Louis” co-star Tom Drake, and director Vincente Minnelli criticized the original as too depressing. For instance, the line “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, it may be your last/Next year we may all be living in the past”, became “May your heart be light/From now on our troubles will be out of sight”. The Fear version utilizes the latter lyrics. Strange indeed. It must be noted that on the record, the lyrics are credited to Ralph Blane and the music to Hugh Martin, while the Wikipedia article I got the historical information from solely credits Hugh Martin. I wonder which source has it wrong. Origins of the song aside, this straight up lounge version is a far cry from the excellent and entertaining “Fuck Christmas” single, and wouldn’t sound out of place at a holiday family get together. The B side, Another Christmas Beer, is more what one might expect. After a nod to the season with a Christmassy intro, the song erupts into the kind of punk that Fear is known for – straight up, eighties sounding hardcore. This was released in conjunction with the Black Friday Record Store Day, but is still available from the label. Due to the relative brevity of the record, and the fact that it’s a Christmas single, I’d say that beyond a certain holiday novelty value, it definitely isn’t an essential purchase.
A number of years ago, I had a copy of “Blurry”, which I think was the first solo album released by Jay Munly (of Slim Cessna’s Auto Club fame). I was ambivalent about that release, and ended up selling it during one of my regular purges. It wasn’t until late this year that I saw Munly perform live, playing on a bill with Scott Kelly. I was impressed enough to give his recordings another try, and I’m glad that I did. This particular album is about 7 years removed from “Blurry”, and in my opinion is a much more satisfying release. I also must point out that it came recommended by both Scott Kelly and Munly himself, who guided me towards this one when I was trying to figure out which album to buy at his merch table. There are combined elements of country and americana here, which is a sound that I like more with each passing year, especially when it’s done with this kind of intelligence and fury. In my live review, I compared Munly’s music to both Michael Gira (Swans, Angels of Light) and David Eugene Edwards (Woven Hand, Sixteen Horsepower), and I stand by those comparisons. He occasionally reminds me a bit of Nick Cave as well. This is music that transcends genres and should appeal to a wide range of people. After all, this was released on Jello Biafra’s Alternative Tentacles label, which although it releases a wide range of music, isn’t the first label one thinks of in conjunction with the americana or country genres. Compared to the solo set I witnessed, this is a much more expansive affair, with female backing vocals, fiddle, banjo, bass, and other instruments chiming in. The moods are many too, with some songs lulling the listener into quiet complacency and others sounding like forced gallops over bad roads, full of grit, dust, and anger. Munly has a versatile voice, sometimes sounding like warm, viscous liquid and sometimes like an anguished howl. Fortunately, he writes lyrics to match. I get the feeling of hard-earned joy when I listen to this. This is party music for serious people, for people who toil and struggle and clutch at what little happiness comes their way. The fiddle and angelic backing vocals smooth out the rough edges a bit, and add a touch of melancholy on songs like Jacob Dumb. I was glad to discover the brilliant and harrowing Goose Walking Over My Grave on here too, because this was one of the most memorable songs played during Munly’s live set. Here, it’s fleshed out with additional vocals and added instrumentation. My appreciation for this album grows with each additional listen. These songs reward careful attention. As if the 70 + minute running time wasn’t enough, the disc comes packaged with a DVD featuring surround sound remixes of the songs, and lyrics, with Munly reading them in a perfect storyteller voice, with just a touch of reverb so it sounds like he’s sitting in a cave somewhere. The lyrics reveal themselves to be strange little stories, full of incest, drug abuse, religion, and violence. Listening to Munly read them is definitely a worthwhile experience, as it adds a whole new dimension to the words. There are some hidden bonus songs after the readings too, which was a nice surprise. I’m glad that I got this, and I look forward to hearing more.
A number of years ago, I stumbled across a Finnish band called Nest, who had tenuous connections to the metal scene but produced gentle, mysterious music which had more in common with the folk and ambient genres. The band played gentle, acoustic music, heavy on atmosphere and centered around the delicate sounds of the kantele (Finnish harp). The band eventually vanished, but Nest member A. Tolonen has now resurfaced with a new band, Syven. I first heard them on the Prophecy Records compilation, “Whom the Moon A Nightsong Sings”. The song, How Fare the Gods?, definitely whetted my appetite for more and was my favorite song on the compilation. The full length album has finally arrived, and it was more than worth the wait. I like Syven even more than I like Nest. The kantele is still very much in evidence, and here it is joined by occasional forays into slow, atmospheric metal, giving the songs a bite that was largely absent on the Nest releases. The disc starts with nocturnal bird calls, subtle electronic ambience, and a funereal drum beat, all of which paves the way for the incredibly deep vocals of A. K-S. The effect of this first song, Syvyys, is more like one might feel upon witnessing some primitive Scandinavian rite, with pagan chanting not quite eclipsing the nocturnal forest sounds. At slightly less than seven minutes in length, Syvyys is relatively brief, but the following song, Jaljet, is nearly 20 minutes long, slowly building into an ominous guitar riff, embellished with delicate kantele and a high, lonely sounding guitar melody. The vocals are once again canyon-deep, with a slightly harsh edge at times. Forest sounds leak through during the quiet moments, adding resonance to the song. I always appreciate when bands use recordings of natural sounds in their music, and Syven combine these recordings with their music perfectly. I hesitate to describe the songs in too much more detail, simply because analyzing something this beautiful threatens to cheapen it in some intangible way. I think the band succeeds very well in creating “dark, heavy, primordial and even shamanistic music…” as they state on their Facebook page. There are only five songs on this release, but three of them are over 10 minutes long, with two of them clocking in at nearly 20 minutes. None of the songs seem like they’re that long though, and the remaining songs are every bit as good as the first two. For some reason, while I’m listening to this, time ceases to have any hold on me. Listening to this music is like watching the horizon as the sun rises or sets. These are sounds so anchored in the natural world that the listener becomes unhinged from the clock and enters geographical time, where the need to hurry doesn’t exist. Or, to put it another way, if Bathory had continued evolving in the direction hinted at on “Twilight of the Gods”, Quorthon might have arrived at something like this several more steps down the line, something that successfully straddled the borders between metal and ancient, shamanistic music. The music here evokes a sense of a time in human history when mystery still reigned and life was harsh. Despite (or maybe because of) the harshness, there was a deification of the natural world, and this could be the holy music of those pagan gods and goddesses. Perfect.
NF Orchest/Jerry Smith “Oxidant” DVD (Petit Mal, 2011)
I got this from NF Orchest member Jim Kaiser at the recent Thomas Carnacki show, and like that show, this is a live music/film collaboration, with NF Orchest providing the sound, recorded live on 2/5/10, for Jerry Smith’s compelling visuals. I just now realized I was actually at that show, so I know that the performance that night was accompanied by a different video (of a turntable), so this wasn’t a piece of music created to accompany the visuals. That doesn’t rule out the possibility that the visuals were created to accompany the music though. In fact, after watching the DVD, this seems like a strong possibility to me. Just as NF Orchest uses the familiar, such as Angela Hsu’s violin and Jim Kaiser’s ever present bicycle wheel (not to mention AC Way’s waves of electronic harshness), to create alien soundscapes, Jerry Smith takes recognizable images, such as landscapes, turbulent water, explosions and people, and processes them in such a way that they become alien and foreboding. Sometimes the visuals wander into more abstract territory, with mysterious textures and lights floating in a void, or sudden geometric shapes appearing. Hsu’s freeform violin noise often sounds insectoid (although at times I picture plaintive cetaceans), and combined with Kaiser’s bowed bicycle wheel and Way’s apocalyptic electronics, it creates a mental picture of irradiated arthropods frantically chewing their way into a bomb shelter, while outside a changed planet slowly suffocates under a shroud of ashes. These images are enhanced by Smith’s often abstract visuals. It seems strange to visualize things when visuals have already been supplied, but the visuals are so suggestive of a greater story that I can’t help having flights of fancy while immersing myself in this. Whether or not one chooses to visualize things, the fact remains that here we have three musicians who work very well together, effectively creating a nearly suffocating mood with their live improvisations. Jerry Smith is obviously a like-minded individual, and his visuals mesh nicely with the music. This is quite fun to listen to this using headphones. Highly recommended.
This was the only CD left by the time I made my way to Emily Jane White’s merch table at her recent gig opening for Marissa Nadler at Café Du Nord in San Francisco. I had hoped to get her most recent one, but I guess starting at the beginning and working my way forward is the way I’m going to have to do it. Compared to what I witnessed live, the arrangements on this CD are a little sparser, with cello on only 2 songs, and the other instruments being the usual guitar, bass, piano, and drums. That’s okay though, because more often than not, the songs here are memorable, with some nice hooks (I’m already finding myself occasionally humming the infectious melody to Hole In the Middle) and enthusiastic performances from all involved. Emily Jane White has a nice voice, slightly husky and given to melancholy. That said, it’s not a unique voice. If I put my iPod on shuffle and played the “name that artist” game, I wouldn’t immediately be able to pinpoint her every time. I couldn’t even say exactly who she sounds like. There might be a little bit of Paula Frazer in her voice, or maybe some Alela Diane and Mia Doi Todd. Think smooth and midrange. The song, Wild Tigers I Have Known, was written for the Cam Archer film of the same name. With the fact in mind that this is supposed to be the least accomplished of her three releases, I’ll definitely be tracking down her other two.
Unlike the band’s full-length releases, which seem to focus mainly on music inspired by horror and giallo soundtracks, this 7” appears to be a tribute to seventies cop movies. If that’s not immediately apparent from the title of the record, then the individual song titles should leave the listener with no doubt: Put An APB On Those Bastards, Common Street Trash, Going Rogue, and Illegal Entry With Intent To Zuul. I can almost see the seventies clothing and hairstyles as I listen to this. The music isn’t too far removed from what the band has done previously. It still sounds like it could have been written by Goblin sometime during the late seventies or early eighties. Goblin themselves did soundtracks to cop movies – just listen to their music for “Squadra Antigangsters” or “La Via Della Droga” - so if Umberto are indeed the Goblin tribute band they sound like they are, then this isn’t a surprising shift of focus at all. All of the elements are here – the sometimes ominous synths and bubbly bass sound are dead on. This is a very short release though. I sometimes think I spend more time flipping the record over than I do listening to it. I look forward to their next full length release.
My introduction to Korean singer/songwriter Kim Doo Soo was via the Damon & Naomi curated “International Sad Hits” compilation CD, on which he was one of four artists picked primarily because of their heartbreaking songs. This disc is the Korean version, with 13 tracks. There is a Japanese double CD version with 14 tracks, as well as a double LP version on the UK label, Blackest Rainbow. Kim Doo Soo’s voice is gentle and often quavering, almost ghostly in its effect. Of course, I have no idea what he’s singing about, since I don’t know a word of Korean (I used to know one word in Korean – a student once taught me the Korean word for “moron”, but I’ve since forgotten it). It’s a good thing that music is an international language, allowing me to enjoy these songs while remaining ignorant of the text. The mood is sad, of course, with Kim Doo Soo’s vocals and gentle, occasionally percussive acoustic guitar playing embellished at times with harmonica (also played by Doo Soo), synthesizer, cello, accordion, horn, percussion, and backing vocals. This is one of those CDs that I could listen to over and over. It’s not like anything else I’ve heard, while at the same time reminding me powerfully of childhood. This latter association may be unique to me though. Still, there is innocence and sensitivity here, as well as aching sadness. While this may sound like folk music, Doo Soo manages to inject it with the spirit of the blues. Maybe that’s why it reminds me of childhood – I used to listen to Odetta (still do) when I was a kid, and although Odetta and Kim Doo Soo don’t have a whole lot in common, Odetta also blurred the line between folk and blues. Maybe this is the Korean version of Fado. I’m also occasionally reminded of In Gowan Ring/Birch Book, at least in the expansive, mysterious sadness evoked by the songs, and sometimes in the combination of acoustic guitar and harmonica. Beautiful.
One of my very favorite Paul Roland albums, reissued at last! Now I have three versions of it. In the liner notes, Roland calls this his “token Regency Baroque folk-rock album”, and I suppose that’s as good a description as any. As with some of the other recent reissues of his back catalog, he has subtly improved upon some of the songs by adding instrumentation and vocals here and there. In the liner notes, he details the improvements, but in order to avoid making this review sound like a laundry list, I won’t do it here. Let it suffice to say that the improvements are indeed noticeable and appreciated. These songs are still Roland at his most lush and medieval-sounding, only now even a bit more so. These songs have the ability to take the listener back to an England of cobblestone streets and gas lamps; a conflicted England of courtly manners and Jack the Ripper, of pleasantly smiling faces and stabbing hands. My favorite songs are still Cocoon, about a scientist slowly being overtaken by the fungal results of his experiments, the middle-eastern sounding Pharaoh, the traditional song Matty Groves, and I Dreamt I Stood Upon A Scaffold. They’ve all been improved upon here, so now I like them even better. That said, there’s not a bad song on here, and as I listen through again I’m very tempted to add to my list of favorites. Only a handful of the songs remain untouched. He has tampered with the running order a bit too, and added two songs from an acoustic radio session – Alice’s House and Black Sabbath’s Solitude. I’ve always loved Solitude, and it has to be the perfect Sabbath song for Roland to cover, with its gorgeous flute and melancholy feel. Needless to say, this version is beautiful, benefitting from some subtle violin and female backing vocals. This is one of the best reissues of the year, and a great place to start if you’re curious about the music of Paul Roland.
Forrest Fang’s Sans Serif “Unbound” (Projekt, 2011)
Back when I worked at Tower, I’d sometimes browse through the CD section and buy albums based on their covers or titles (I blame my employee discount for feeding by budding addiction), and this is how I got my first Forrest Fang CD, “The Wolf at the Ruins”. The music was gentle, with Chinese instruments and an almost new-agey feel, and for some reason, despite my usual aversion to new age music, I continued intermittently following Fang’s musical career. I particularly enjoyed his “Gongland” and “Phantoms” releases (also on Projekt), on which he had become even more minimal and otherworldly. I’ve got to mention that his original label, Ominous Thud, has got to be one of my all-time favorite label names, but that was then, and this is now. “Unbound” has got to be his most minimal release yet, essentially being a drone release, about which he writes, “The Sans Serif project grew out of my interest in creating large-scale sonic environments from very small sounds.” There are 5 tracks, and the album clocks in at slightly under an hour. Unlike many drone releases I could mention, the mood here isn’t ominous. Instead, the sonic environment the Fang has created is one of bliss and hope. I hesitate to cheapen it by comparing it to the kind of music one might find in the aquarium section of a science museum, but that’s what it reminds me of. Then again, aquarium music functions as a subtle mood-enhancer, a sonic reflection/amplification of the awe-inspiring wonder of the natural world, which is exactly the kind of feeling that this music engenders inside of me. Perhaps the difference is in the creative process. However one chooses to look at it, this is a nice addition to my ever expanding collection of drone-related releases.
Once upon a time there was a Hungarian band called Vagtozo Halottkemek, aka VHK, aka Galloping Coroners. I’m pretty sure that band is no more (although according to their website, they performed concerts as recently as 2010), but VHK vocalist Grandpierre Atilla has kept busy with a new band, Vagtazo CsodasZarvas. This is already Vagtazo CsodasZarvas’ third release. How time does fly. Galloping Wonder Stag has taken the initial promise of Galloping Coroners and expanded upon it greatly. Compared to VHK, Vagtozo CsodasZarvas is definitely more in the “world music” realm, without sacrificing any of the power and pagan joy that typified VHK’s sound. The link between the two bands is, of course, Grandpierre Atilla – his rough, primitive voice is instantly recognizable. He is occasionally joined by a wonderful female vocalist, M. Gebri Bernadett. Many other band members are credited with “whoops”, which should give the potential listener a hint as to the mood of the songs. The musician credits list is a long one, and the list of instruments played is even longer, including some I’ve never heard of before. I imagine that they are Hungarian traditional instruments. The songs have a kind of punk gypsy flavor to them, while at the same time sounding positively ancient and traditional. Where Syven (reviewed somewhere above) and Tenhi (reviewed somewhere below) produce dark shamanic music, Vagtozo CsodasZarvas produce joyful shamanic music, with what sounds like frame drums, Macedonian bagpipes, violin, and the aforementioned huge list of other instruments propelling the songs forward at a frenetic pace, and sweeping everybody along in a headlong rush towards utter exhaustion. Occasionally, like in the beginnings of Julia Szep Leany and on the following track, the absolutely beautiful Ejfeli Varazs, the mood shifts to darker, more contemplative territory, adding an extra dimension to the album. Part of the joy of being alive is having the ability to appreciate all of our different emotions, and occasionally slowing down a bit to reflect. This music is full of the joy of life, and should appeal to adventurous world music fans and to people who enjoy boisterous gypsy/punk crossover bands like Gogol Bordello. It’s a crime that more people won’t hear this release. It is my firm belief that the world would be a better place if this type of music reached a larger audience.
6 Heads “Cardboard Oracle” (Wintage Records & Tapes, 2011)
I must preface this review by saying that I consider 6 Heads members W.A. Davison and S. Higgins friends, so there is no doubt a bias here. That said, if I didn’t genuinely like this record, I’d probably just not review it. The record comes packaged in a lovely handmade sleeve. Upon taking the record out, I discovered that the front cover is actually the flip side of an old German classical record cover. The cover art appears to be a nude troll standing in a box, next to which sits a bunny. Over this is superimposed a hand-screened scary face. Very nice. Like the name suggests, 6 heads is comprised of six individuals, although exactly who does what is anyone’s guess. This is the kitchen sink approach to soundmaking, with voices intoning nonsense (possibly sourced from old LPs), strange squeaking noises, robotic fuckery, buzzes, creaks, plinks, plonks, and all manner of other noise. Side A, entitled Smaller, Larger, Lighter (Incantation of the Naugahyde Witch), starts with many of the above-described sounds, and then gathers a strange rhythmic momentum, with the rhythm sounding like a sound the looped sound of some spinning circular object settling to the ground. The Rhythm eventually gives way to some small fidgety sounds and strange electronic noises before the track ends. On side B, we’re treated to a piece called Carnival Dust, which starts with the sound (I think) of a gently fingered plastic comb and warped snatches of music. The piece slowly morphs into something more alien, with a haphazard electronic non-rhythm sounding like a malfunctioning robot toy, the warped music actually inspiring queasiness, and quiet bursts of crackle appearing like fireworks of the mind. I realize that this kind of music/sound collage has extremely limited appeal, but I must be somewhat limited, because it appeals to me. In fact this is the perfect kind of record to listen to when life gets you down. There is an anarchic joy in these types of sounds – the feeling that anything is possible, and a big “fuck you” to whatever or whoever is troubling you. It is quite soul-satisfying to blast this record, although if you do, the neighbors will be mystified.
Theresa Wong is a San Francisco-based cellist, and she is joined on this release by none other than violinist Carla Kihlstedt (Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, Tin Hat, etc.). The songs, composed by Wong, were inspired by the Disasters of War etchings by Francisco Goya. Right away, it’s obvious that there is some serious musicianship involved (although since Kihlstedt plays on this, I already knew there would be), and it’s a treat to listen to the subtle interplay of voice, violin, and cello. The instruments swoop and soar, and the bows judder and bounce across the strings. Many of the songs are extremely short, clocking in at under a minute, but for me, it’s the longer ones that leave a more lasting impression. Bury Them and Keep Quiet benefits from beautiful vocals and a somber attitude (with a title like that, could it be any different?), and Proud Monster! features some interesting percussive vocalizations, with glottal stops making the voices sound like an additional instrument. The shorter pieces are more like musical vignettes than actual songs, but they are playful and interesting nonetheless, sometimes reminding me a bit of the works of Czech violinist Iva Bittova. Kihlstedt’s higher voice and Wong’s lower one work well together in much the same way that their respective instruments do. Folksong for the Landless is full of the sadness of toil without reward, but is nonetheless angelically beautiful, sounding like some lost holy song. It is followed and offset by the earthy What Courage!, which creeps along like a persistent stalker. The album’s longest song, Candlehat, with its percussive violin bowing and plucking, and jaunty cello rhythm, is playful and upbeat, with a strange bow-bouncing second half. The album is closed out by the meditative Nothing, We Shall See. iTunes has this labeled as “classical”, but in my opinion that’s a lazy genre tag, and probably one solely based on the instruments used, because this definitely transcends the limits of traditional classical music. This is part of the Tzadik (John Zorn’s label) Oracles Series, a series which (and I quote) “celebrates the diversity and creativity of women in experimental music making…”. I haven’t heard any of the other releases in this series, but if this album is indicative of the quality of the other releases in this series, I’d say that they’re all worth checking out.
Zoe Boekbinder is one half of the Oakland cabaret band, Vermillion Lies, although she and the other half of Vermillion Lies, her sister Kim, apparently mostly concentrate on their solo releases these days. “Darling Specimens” has an old-timey cabaret feel to it, with cello, violin, a horn section, and even musical saw all contributing to the sonic palette, not to mention the more standard instrumentation of guitar and bass. Boekbinder’s voice has a strange lilting quality to it, like butterflies flitting from flower to flower. Her lively vocals are the real focus here, although the lush bed of the songs gives her voice a nice springboard from which to bounce. This reminds me a bit of fellow East Bay band Charming Hostess, which isn’t a bad thing at all. The Bay Area seems to spawn a lot of quirky, peppy bands like this. I’m glad that I live where I do.
I’ve had this disc on my iTunes for awhile, but recently found a reasonably-priced copy online, so now I have a physical version of this as well. I love the music of both B’ee and Maja Elliott, so I felt that it was worth owning an actual copy of a live recording of them playing together, with B’ee playing guitar, harmonica, and flute, and Elliott playing harmonium, piano, and violin. The majority of the songs originally appeared on In Gowan Ring releases, although only two of them, Morning’s Waking Dream (from “Hazel Steps Through A Weathered Home”) and Dandelion Wine (from “Love Charms”) actually appeared on In Gowan Ring studio albums. The other In Gowan Ring songs here have all appeared on B’ee’s ongoing series of “Webs Among The Din” releases, which collect live and home recordings. There are also three Birch Book songs here – Zephyr Through the Willows, The Wandering Boy, and The Carnival Is Empty – and all of them are from the second Birch Book release, “Fortune and Folly”. About midway through the concert, Elliott sings the traditional song, My Lagan Love, and contributes three of her own piano-based compositions, Uisneagh, Presence, and Johnny’s Song. Uisneagh originally appeared on “Truth”, and later on Elliott’s collaboration with Johnny Enquist, “Arabica”. Presence is from “Eulogy For Lisbet”. That leaves only Johnny’s Song, which as far as I know, is the only exclusive song on this release. It’s a beautiful celtic-styled ballad, full of quiet despair and longing, with B’ee providing some subtle backing vocals. B’ee’s own compositions are all delicate and beautiful, of course, but then again I’ve been a confirmed fan since “Love Charms” was released back in 1994. The sound quality is superb, and B’ee’s in between song banter is intact, which pleases me. Wandering minstrelsy at its finest! The packaging is very nice, with a silver cardboard gatefold, and nice image of what looks like an old woodcut on the front, and the liner notes contained within on half-sized semi-transparent paper, featuring some reminiscences by Elliott.
This came for free in the package with the In Gowan Ring/Maja Elliott CD reviewed above. I love getting extra discs from people. This 18 minute EP was released a decade ago, making it the oldest release I’ve reviewed this month. It’s actually quite pretty, with two very proficient acoustic guitarists, a violinist, a bassist, and a female vocalist, Catarina Raposo, who possesses a lovely voice. At times it’s almost too pretty in a sensitive, flowery sort of way. The lyrics suffer a bit from the same problem. That said, I find the exquisite acoustic guitar work and beautiful vocals winning me over. There are five songs, three with English lyrics, one in Portuguese, and one instrumental. I have to admit that I’m writing this review after only listening to the disc once, which is something I don’t usually do. As I type these words, I’m giving it a second spin, and it’s growing on me. This is nice, quiet music for contemplative moods, or something to have playing in the background late at night.
Tenhi “Saivo” CD artbook edition and “The Collected Works” vinyl box set (Prophecy, 2011)
Other than the new Amebix album, I can’t think of a release this year that I looked forward to hearing with more anticipation than “Saivo”. As with the Amebix album, the wait was well worth it. Tenhi take their sweet time in preparing each new release, with vocalist/guitarist Tyko Saarikko not only sharing writing credits with multi-instrumentalist Ilmari Issakainen, but also creating the exquisite artwork that graces this release. It’s hard to believe that it has already been five years since the last Tenhi album (not including the 3 disc compilation of unreleased material, EPs, and demo tracks). Apparently, the five years since “Maaaet” were well spent, because “Saivo” is an absolute masterpiece. In addition to vocals, which are at times choir-like, the sonic palette here includes guitar, harmonium, bass, drums, piano, viola, flute, contrabass, and cello. Compositionally, the band perfectly understands the need for space and silence in the songs. The beautifully textured paintings in the art book wonderfully complement the songs, instilling in me a sense of somber serenity. This is a soundtrack for misty forests and distant, frozen mountains, and no band I can think of evokes these types of images better than Tenhi does. The songs take the listener on a seventy minute journey into the snowbound taiga, and into the spirit world of the people who once lived there. The spare, poetic lyrics are in Finnish, but are translated in the book, in autumnal font on a field of black, revealing themselves to be the equal of the music and imagery. This is one of those rare cases where every aspect of the presentation is perfect. The music literally brings tears to my eyes, but I emerge feeling purged in some way. I can’t pick a favorite song. This needs to be listened to in its entirety, over and over again. Despite the fact that I love the band’s earlier releases, this is definitely my favorite Tenhi release so far. This is shamanic music that draws from the past with the power to fortify us for a new dark age. The 60 page artbook edition is the size of a coffee table book (28x28cm), and comes with a DVD which contains the album in 96khz/24bit sound. As this wasn’t enough, Prophecy Productions has simultaneously released “The Collected Works”, a beautiful vinyl box set including every Tenhi release so far, which includes 9 records, a 160 page book of selected graphics, posters of all the album covers, and a hand-signed authentication certificate. The box itself is made of birch wood. I won’t review each of the releases here, since they’re not new, but I will say that of the earlier releases, “Vare” remains my favorite. It sure is nice to have beautiful vinyl editions of all of these, although I wish that Prophecy would pay a little more attention to the way they ship things – the LP covers were shipped with the vinyl inside, so a couple of the covers arrived with split seams. At least it arrived though. Due to the chaos of the holidays, I had to wait nearly a month for the package to reach me.
Birds of Passage “Winter Lady” CD and “Highwaymen In Midnight Masks” 10” (Denovali, 2011)
I’m lumping reviews of “Winter Lady” and “Highwaymen In Midnight Masks” together because I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by the number of releases I’ve bought this month, and it makes sense to lump them together because they were released at the same time. “Winter Lady” starts with the gray haze of Fatal Melody, with Alicia Merz’s beautiful, wistful voice gently caressing the listener, at times double-tracked to provide exquisite harmonies. All of the music on this release was written, produced, and performed by Merz, with the exception of the music to Away With The Night, which was written, produced, and performed by Mathias Van Eecloo, who also records under the name Monolyth & Cobalt (highly worth checking out, by the way). Van Eecloos’s subtle, melancholy textures are the perfect match for Merz’s shiver-inducing vocals. The single, Highwaymen in Midnight Masks, features a slow, hazy keyboard melody under Merz’s vocals, which sound like they’re being transmitted via transistor radio. Merz sounds both achingly distant and intimately close, singing under shimmering snowflakes of sound that soften and obscure her. The rest of the album continues the mood created by the initial songs, with the distant bells of Hollow and the sweet sadness of the nearly 10 minute Waltz While We Sleep being my favorite moments. I really liked the debut Birds of Passage album, “Without the World”, but I think this one is much better. The ghostly melodies are even more divine, and the atmosphere even more evocative of windswept nothingness. This is bleak and beautiful, but a long way from barren. This is a flower growing in a wasteland. The 10”, in addition to the title track, contains two B-side songs not on the album. The first one, Forbidden Love, is a collaboration with Aidan Baker of Nadja, and is a beautiful, hazy drone with vocals that beautifully soar while simultaneously seeming to melt into the fabric of the song. This is followed by the blissful dirge of I Have My Heart, with Merz’s effects-laden vocals hovering above a slow motion soundscape that eventually erupts into frantic, underwater guitar crescendos. The song eventually flatlines, leaving the survivors shaken. My copy is on hazy, gray vinyl, which perfectly matches the music. The release comes with a download card for the turntable challenged.
I had begun to wonder if Nick Saloman had thrown in the towel and finally laid the good ship Frond to rest, but all of a sudden news of a new Bevis Frond album reached my ears, and here it is, 7 years after the last one. For some reason, prolonged gaps between albums always leave me expecting big changes on the new release when it finally arrives. On “The Leaving of London”, I find that this isn’t the case. That’s not a bad thing though. Nick Saloman is incredibly consistent in his ability to deliver great records, chock full of hooks, melody, a wonderful psych-pop sensibility, and lyrics that manage to contain both decades of experience and a demonstrate a childlike sense of wonder. The warm guitar fuzz and melodic lead work are still intact as well, and listening to “The Leaving of London” is sort of like running into an old friend, one who you haven’t seen in years, and starting up a conversation like no time has passed at all. At this early stage, it’s hard to pick definite favorites (the album is introduced with an old snippet of dialogue – “everyone has a favorite tune. Is this yours?”) from amongst the 18 new songs (yes, once again the album is a long one), because they’re all good. There are a few quieter songs, like the title track, The Divide, Testament, and True North, but even the less quiet moments still retain a quiet dignity. If I was forced to decide right now, I’d have to say that a couple of early favorites are the shortest and longest songs. More of This Than That, with its beautiful, melodic vocal melody and nice, fuzzed out guitar solo, clocks in at a mere 1:48, and Too Kind, at 8:38, is a gentle mini-epic about age differences, drenched in a haze of nostalgia and meaningfulness. Saloman writes, “Now you’ve grown up/Sold your hi-fi/I just make you/Think of times gone by”, and as with the majority of his lyrics, sings it in a way that really makes the listener feel it (although I imagine that younger people might find it hard to relate to many of his lyrics). I’m more than glad that there is still some life in the old Bevis Frond.
Pentagram has a long history, one that stretches back into the dim recesses of the early seventies. It’s a history peppered with long periods of inactivity, line-up changes, drug abuse, and all of the other things one might expect from such a long-running rock band. A few years ago, I finally got a chance to see the band live, and I came away impressed by the fact that singer Bobby Liebling still delivered the goods, despite looking like a wizened old man. That night, the band played a song slated to be on their as yet unreleased upcoming album, “Last Rites”. Pentagram has played locally twice since then, but I’ve missed both of those gigs. By all accounts, the second gig was a complete trainwreck (from what I hear, because the new guitarist hadn’t yet learned the songs) and the third was the best of the three. My own discovery of the band dates back to a long ago day when I stumbled across their self-titled debut album at Tower, and liking the song titles and graphics, decided to make it mine. At the time, if I thought about it at all, I never would have expected to ever see the band play, and I probably would have laughed at the idea that I’d still be buying new Pentagram albums over a quarter of a century later. So, how does “Last Rites”, with original members Bobby Liebling and guitarist Victor Griffin still on board, measure up? In my humble opinion, pretty well. I still like their first couple of records better, but I think this is probably the best of their more recent releases. Strangely, the first couple of , both written solely by Liebling, are among the weakest on the album, having more of a hard rock vibe than a metal one. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, but my favorite Pentagram songs have always been the chuggy, Sabbathy doom ones (although occasionally they’re almost too Sabbathy). Liebling still sounds good, if a slight bit huskier, and Griffin’s guitar tone is intact, so despite the updated production values, this manages to sound more or less like classic Pentagram. There are no instant classics here, but songs like Into the Ground, 8, American Dream, and Nothing Left are all quite good. Liebling sounds especially evil during the latter. The album ends with a 57 second reprise of the Pentagram classic, All Your Sins. Too bad they didn’t re-record the whole song.
If the names Arch and Matheos sound familiar, you might remember a time when vocalist John Arch and guitarist Jim Matheos were in a band called Fates Warning. At the beginning of their career, Arch sounded very much like Iron Maiden vocalist Bruce Dickenson, and the band’s style wasn’t too far removed from what Iron Maiden was doing at the time. They moved away from that sound a bit by their second release, the excellent “The Spectre Within”, becoming adept at writing some truly epic progressive metal songs. I thought the third and final release to feature Arch, “Awaken the Guardian”, was a bit of a step down from “The Spectre Within”, but still a decent release. Arch left the band before their next album, and after buying and feeling ambivalent about that album, “No Exit”, I didn’t buy any of the band’s subsequent releases. 23 years later, “Sympathetic Resonance” appears, making me feel old. I don’t listen to a whole lot of progressive metal because I’m usually not a big fan of the type of vocal style favored by singers in the genre – the vocalists often have high, almost operatic voices, which to my ears make them sound kind of whiny. That said, John Arch possesses such a voice, but for some reason, I like it. He makes it work somehow. He seems to understand melody and nuance better than most. Jim Matheos generally writes interesting songs too. Many of them are quite epic in scope, and seem to be presented in a number of distinct movements, almost like classical music. Three of the six songs on this release are longer than 10 minutes, which is something always draws my interest. The musicianship on this album is of the highest order, with flowing melody, precise, math-metal riffing, and the aforementioned vocal prowess of Arch. This really takes me back to the early days of Fates Warning, although this may be a tiny bit shorter on atmosphere/mood than Fates Warning at its best. Still, I’m glad to be able to add this album to my collection, and I haven’t yet given it enough listens to say that I’ve caught all of the nuances. File under epic progressive power metal, or something like that.
Marissa Nadler and Emily Jane White at Café Du Nord, San Francisco, CA, 12/18/11
I was having one of those days where, even though I had a bunch of things to do, I felt completely unmotivated to tackle any of them. Instead, I mostly sat in my chair. Towards evening, I pulled myself out of my funk and took a short walk as the sun set, and managed to get a few tasks done. Finally, the time to depart for the show arrived, and I headed northward. Circumstances decreed that I would attend the show alone, but that has never stopped me. I just hoped that I would find a parking space more quickly than we did on Friday (see previous review).
I needn’t have worried. I was actually inside the Café Du Nord within an hour, which is only about 15 minutes longer than the time it took us to drive 2 miles and park on Friday. All of the seats were already either filled or spoken for, and the six tables at the front all had “reserved” signs on them, so I found a spot by the wall to the left. But then, minutes before showtime, a Café Du Nord employee emerged from the kitchen area and removed the signs from the tables, and I quickly slipped into a chair. A waitress appeared, and soon I had a pizza and a soda. Easy parking! Food! Great seat!
I hadn’t previously heard opener Emily Jane White, other than the usual last-minute online listen before the show. My initial assessment, based on the track The Law, (which can be downloaded for free on the site linked above) from her latest album, “Ode To Sentience”, was that she was a good match for Marissa Nadler, with a similar fingerpicked guitar style, and a mood of introspective melancholy. Her set bore this out. Her voice is a bit lower and more earthy sounding that Nadler’s, and she switched between acoustic guitar, electric guitar, and keyboards. She was joined at various times by a bass clarinet player, and a mini string section consisting of a cellist and a violinist. Being new to her music, I can’t comment on the setlist, but I liked all of the songs and look forward to hearing her recordings. It's nice to know that there is another local artist of this calibre. Unfortunately, her merch table was a bit light, with only one copy of her second release (snapped up by the guy in front of me in line), and no copies of her third release, the aforementioned “Ode To Sentience”. I bought her first disc, “Dark Undercoat”, which is playing in the background as I type. Marissa Nadler had no merchandise, but did leave a note directing people to check out her online shop.
I’ve seen Marissa Nadler 3 times now, and each time I’ve come away from the shows liking the openers well enough to buy their music. First it was Mariee Sioux and Mountain Home, then it was Alela Diane, and now I can add Emily Jane White to the list. Once she got on stage, Nadler mysteriously mentioned more than once that she was uncertain if and when she’d be back in the area, which worries me, even though her absence will no doubt save me money.
This particular performance wasn’t part of a tour, but rather a one-off show because Nadler likes San Francisco and happened to be in the area for other reasons (on her Facebook page, there are veiled references to doing some recordings up in the redwoods somewhere). More than once, she mentioned that San Francisco one of her favorite places to play, mostly due to the respectful audiences.
She didn’t have a band with her, but did have an impressive array of acoustic guitars. Her fingers flowed over the strings and her otherworldly voice was as exquisite as ever. She really does get a dynamic sound out of her instruments, sort of like what I’d imagine composer Giya Kancheli would sound like if he played acoustic guitar. Sometimes her quiet fingerpicking erupts into crystalline fury before flowing away into quieter territory again. The songs all sounded excellent, and if anything, she wrung even more pathos out of the songs than usual, dropping her voice to a whisper at perfectly timed moments, and to a near shudder at others. She also took the time to explain the initial inspiration for some of the songs, and chatted about her ongoing battle with stage fright and agoraphobia. Despite the fact that she has never gotten over her stage fright, she carries on performing because she feels that music helps people. She called the music a medication and a meditation, hence the title of this review. It definitely cleared away the cobwebs of the funk I was in earlier in the day, so I’m here to say that I appreciate the fact that she feels the fear and gets up on stage anyway. That’s the definition of courage, after all – feeling the fear but not letting it stop you.
My favorite moments of the evening were the beautiful rendition of the song Silvia, from “Songs III: Bird on the Water”, the two brand new songs (played live for the very first time), and her cover of Leonard Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat, which is one of my very favorite songs. The new songs were very nice – the first one, called Apostle, was about alcoholism, and the second one was about her parents. She promises that her upcoming album, a sister album to her recent self-titled release, will be “very dark”. I can’t wait! She also revisited her first album, “Ballads of Living and Dying”, by playing the first and last songs, Fifty Five Falls and Annabelle Lee. This made me happy too, since Annabelle Lee is perhaps my favorite song on that album. Two songs from “Ivy and the Clovers” were played as well, the haunting Salutations in the Dark and the less than cheerful All Love Must Die. The bulk of the set seemed given over to “Songs III…” and this year’s self-titled release. In addition to the songs already mentioned, she played Diamond Heart, Dying Breed, Thinking of You (all from “Songs III”), Little King, In Your Lair, Bear, The Sun Always Reminds Me Of You (which she pointed out is not actually a happy song), and Mr. John Lee Revisited (all from her s/t release). There were probably a couple of others that I’m not remembering at the moment.
Check out the new video for In Your Lair, Bear:
I think she played for around an hour and a half. All of my attempts to take pictures were foiled by the reddish stage lights. My camera really doesn’t like red, especially in low-light conditions. The two photos that accompany this post were the best of the lot. That’s a minor quibble though, because it really is all about the music. On the way home, I dialed up Marissa Nadler on my iPod, discovering that I have 75 songs of hers on there. Definitely more than enough for the ride home.
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