Thomas Carnacki & Sylvia Schedelbauer at Artists’ Television Access, San Francisco, CA, 12/16/11
Nothing happens in isolation, and the events of this particular evening confirmed this rather trite phrase. The evening was a double feature of sorts, with the opening film at Opera Plaza Cinema on Van Ness and the second film (series of films, actually) at Artists’ Television Access on Valencia. I had personal connections to both events, so I’m glad that they didn’t happen simultaneously.
Lately, I’ve been trying to avoid being in San Francisco on Friday nights, because the traffic monster is on the prowl, and the traffic monster will make getting places on time a dubious task. The rush hour traffic mingles with the Friday night party traffic in a truly ugly way, akin to the passionate efforts of fornicating troglodytes. In a word, repulsive.
Jeanine and I ended up paying the exorbitant fees at the civic center parking garage and making it to the evening’s first event, a screening of a short film called MDK (that would be Murder Death Kill for you need-to-know Nancys in the audience), which is actually a longform music video for a band called Stabotage. Among others, Stabotage features Chris Pelletier, who is the son of my old friend Rich, who plays bass in the band Hellhound. MDK was created by Chris (with help from his dad, bandmates, and others) for a class that he took at the Art Institute, and this screening was a showcase for the students’ finished projects. I had a small role in the video, although my 3 or 4 hours on the film set at a small studio in San Jose translated to about 2 seconds of screen time. The video was an intentionally cheeseball affair, playing like a combination of a seventies comic book and a vintage sci-fi action film. Take, for example, Rich’s role as the chief villain, The Atomic Skeleton, and you get an idea how tongue in cheek the film is. The video itself was more or less an extended fight scene involving blue, Morlock-like creatures attacking the band as they attempt to rescue one of their own from the clutches of the evil Atomic Skeleton. I played one of the blue guys.
Somewhere across town, one of Rich’s ex-Hellhound bandmates, Harald Oimeon, was on stage with D.R.I., who were playing a sold-out show at Slim’s. Harald is the co-author of “Murder In The Front Row”, a photographic time capsule of the then-budding early eighties Bay Area metal scene (my copy should arrive at my doorstep soon). My friend Wayne and I had lunch with the book’s other author, Brain Lew, just the day before, so it has definitely been a week full of old friends, especially when one considers the epic journey to Fresno chronicled in the previous review.
In order to get to the next event, we had to leave right after the screening, missing the other student films. Our next stop was the Artist’s Television Access on Valencia. The two venues are about 2 miles apart, which would have made it about a thirty minute walk, putting us there at about 10 minutes after the starting time, so we optimistically decided to drive. It ended up taking us forty five minutes to find a place to park, and when we did finally park, it was at an elevation of 194 feet above the venue, on a street that had stairs instead of a sidewalk. You’ve got to love those San Francisco hills. Fortunately, the event got started late, so we missed only a few minutes of it.
The event in question was entitled “Farewell To A Pilot", and was a screening of several short, experimental films by Berlin-based filmmaker Sylvia Schedelbauer, with the first film featuring live accompaniment by Thomas Carnacki. Again, I must admit that this is a biased review, because Thomas Carnacki is a pseudonym used by my brother, Greg. The Carnacki ensemble for the evening also benefitted from the efforts of the usual affiliated sonic perpetrators, Jim Kaiser, Gregory Hagan, and Jesse Burson. In addition to the live music, two Carnacki recordings, The Fall of Wappinger and The Angela Carter Museum, were used in the soundtrack to the final film, “Sounding Glass”.
We sat down in the flickering light and turned our attention towards the screen. The strobing effect of the visuals was such that I hoped there were no epileptics in the audience. Although I’m sure that there were deeper meanings to the films, I didn’t try to ferret them out. They were interesting enough from a purely abstract standpoint, especially when paired with the sonic abstractions produced by the Carnacki ensemble. The black and white images flickered in a way that threatened to completely unhinge any effort to watch the film in a traditional sort of fashion. Images of people and landscapes flashed by like half remembered fragments of dreams while the sounds of Carnacki, like oneiromantic guide dogs, provided the glue that held the fractured images together. The nicely textured sounds formed a topography to match the landscape images on the screen, sometimes sounding craggy and gritty, and sometimes as smooth as weathered stone. Heavily processed sound was the order of the evening, with Greg using a plethora of objects in ways that their manufacturers never intended they be used, Jim wringing sounds out of his old bicycle wheel, and Jesse and Gregory Hagan providing mysterious sonic textures of their own. The piece ended beautifully with Gregory Hagan picking up his viola and playing a funereal melody as the other sounds faded away, leaving the lonely sounds of the viola to usher us into the darkness as the film ended. Greg mentioned after the fact that the viola bit was intended as his tribute to our dad, who passed away in early November (when our mom passed away last year, he got Dawn McCarthy to join the ensemble onstage for a version of Sometimes I feel Like A Motherless Child, so now both of our parents have gotten their sonic tributes).
After short intermission, several more of Schedelbauer’s films were screened, and again I enjoyed the images without trying to wring meaning out of them, although I must say that one of the films (the title of which I’ve forgotten) built tension nicely through a juxtaposition of images of people standing outside the front door of a building with scenes of a shadowy figure running through the wilderness. It seemed that the people by the door were blissfully unaware of the malicious intent of the shadowy figure hell-bent on reaching them. Most of the images were in black and white, and the aforementioned “Sounding Glass” brought back the strobing effect with a vengeance, making at least one audience member gasp. Now, I wonder at the director’s intention, but of course when she stepped up after the screening to ask if we had any questions, it didn’t occur to me to ask. I’m reasonably certain that all of the images used in the films were taken from pre-existing films, probably ones in the public domain. The credits mentioned that many of the sounds were taken from free sound archives, so the films were a radical recontextualizing of other works. At any rate, they were about as far removed from the first film of the evening, MDK, as it is possible to get. They say that variety is the spice of life though.
Afterwards, we huddled in a crowded burrito place for a late night meal, and then Jeanine and I climbed the stairs to the van, taking a moment to turn around and marvel and the rising moon, which appeared like an immense orange slice balanced on a hill to the south. The sparkling city lay below us, and the panorama was so beautiful that I nearly forgot my earlier aggravation at our inability to quickly find parking. After all, if we’d parked down the hill, we wouldn’t have been treated to the moonrise in the same way.
Scott Kelly, Jay Munly, and Bob Wayne at Fulton 55, Fresno, CA
I had never actually been to Fresno before, although I can’t count the number of times I’ve passed freeway signs sporting the city’s name. I‘ve just never had a reason to go there, and let’s face it, the city doesn’t have a stellar reputation, a fact constantly driven home by Fresno anti-spokesperson Brian Kenney Fresno pretty much every time he performs.
My friends Jack and Jackie now live there though, and Scott Kelly was doing a show there, which provided enough reason for Wayne and I to hop in the car and brave the wilds of the Central Valley. The general attitude of valley residents was summed up for us by the sign we passed en route, stating, “don’t blame me, I voted for hero and hottie”. Uh, yeah. We live in such a bubble here on the coast.
Hanging out was done, vegan food was consumed. We visited one of the best coffee shops I’ve ever set foot in, a wonderful little place called El Corazon. Jack encouraged us to take back word that Fresno wasn’t as bad as we thought it would be. It really wasn’t, at least the part we saw.
Fulton 55 is a decent venue, with good sound and good sightlines. Scott, who knows us all, was surprised to see us so far from the Bay Area. He informed us that he was playing second, and as we were still talking, Jay Munly took the stage. The combination of his hood, the blue stage lights, and his piercing stare made him appear ominous. Long ago, I briefly owned what I believe is his first solo CD, but at the time, it didn’t strike me as essential, so I sold it. Since then, I’ve continued to hear good things about Munly and his band, Slim Cessna’s Auto Club, but other than hearing and enjoying the occasional song online, hadn’t spent much time exploring his music. At this gig, Munly accompanied himself with acoustic guitar and sang with the kind of intensity I associate with artists like David Eugene Edwards (Woven Hand, Sixteen Horsepower) and Michael Gira (Swans, Angels of Light). In other words, Americana at its most apocalyptic, full of violence and Old Testament intensity. Not having his back catalog to reference, I can’t comment on the setlist, although I would imagine there were some Slim Cessna’s Auto Club songs played. Scott recommended a couple of his CDs to me, and Munly himself narrowed it down to the Munly & The Lee Lewis Harlots disc, which I’m listening to as I write this. He played at least one song from this disc, the brilliant and intense Goose Walking Over My Grave. The fact that he never once talked to the audience added to the intensity of his performance somehow.
Scott Kelly was up next. I think the last time I saw him perform out of the context of his bands Neurosis and Shrinebuilder was at one of the Neurosis-curated Beyond the Pale festivals in San Francisco, so it has been awhile. The dirge-like intensity of Scott’s solo output is similar to Neurosis bandmate Steve Von Till’s solo music, although with perhaps a bit more of a country edge to it. Both Scott and Steve have covered Townes Van Zandt songs, and I suppose Van Zandt is as good a reference point as any, although Van Zandt at his most broken down and miserable. Think songs like Kathleen or Waiting ‘Round To Die. Scott has covered Rake and Tecumseh Valley, and his versions definitely add an appealing layer of grit and misery to the songs. As far as I could tell, his performance of the evening featured all original material, much of it new, or newish. His songs are much slower than Munly’s, and his voice much more weathered and weary sounding (he mentioned that he was still in a food coma from his dinner at a local Basque restaurant called Shepherd’s Inn, so he was playing even slower than usual). He ended with a song which I believe is called We Burn Through the Night (which shares its title with his somewhat neglected blog). You can watch it below. I continue to be impressed with the way Scott can build such a thick, murky atmosphere of introspection and gloom with just his voice and an acoustic guitar. There was the usual bar noise that is the inevitable downside of many small venues, but the music cocooned me to such a degree that not even the bar noise could penetrate.
Bob Wayne wasn’t somebody I’d previously encountered, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Like the other performers, Wayne performed solo with an acoustic guitar. The music might be described as outlaw country, or perhaps Gangsta Americana. The energy of his set was completely different, quickly dissipating the atmosphere created by Munly and Scott. His songs were all stories, and nearly all of the stories seemed to be about driving trucks, taking drugs, being blue collar, and killing women - stereotypical Red State country themes, in other words. He came across like a hillbilly, but I think he’s from Washington, making him the state’s loneliest hillbilly. Ultimately, not seeing the humor in misogyny and mayhem, and being a little annoyed by his drunken fans, I decided that I’d have to pass on Mr. Wayne, a decision that everybody I’d attended the show with had already arrived at. It’s too bad, because I liked some of the melodies running through his songs. The music occasionally reminded me of local Bay Area heroes, Rube Waddell, except that Rube Waddell are about 100 times more interesting and intelligent, lyrically speaking. We bailed.
The tour is currently making stops in the Bay Area. Tonight they’re playing at the Brick & Mortar in San Francisco, and tomorrow evening they’ll be at The Crepe Place in Santa Cruz. Go.
The number of releases reviewed here would have been fewer, but I got no less than 5 of them for free. Happy early birthday to me! I guess I actually got 6 of them for free, if I count the fact that the Loretta Lynch CD came free with my purchase of a ticket to their gig near the beginning of the month. That means I only bought 6 releases this month. I am the very picture of restraint. I’m conveniently overlooking the fact that I bought at least a couple of releases (one an expensive box set) this month that didn’t arrive in time to be included here. That’s what we addicts do. We minimize our indiscretions.
This disc was released to coincide with a recent tour, and if I remember correctly, it was recorded during the same sessions as Monarch’s most recent full length, “Sabbat Noir”. Like “Sabbat Noir”, this is a one-song release, but at a mere 11 minutes in length, it’s a bit on the short side. The song itself, with vocalist Emilie Bresson’s sepulchral moaning seeming to emanate from the sonic floorboards of a darkened, grit-filled room, and a slow, ominous drum beat that plods its way through a mist of dirty guitar drone, almost seems incomplete, like it was meant to accompany a visual element, or as an intro to a longer work. That said,it might seem like that to me because I’m used to longer pieces and longer releases from the band. It could have been included on “Sabbat Noir” with room to spare, although then we wouldn’t have the nice packaging to look at (although we would have saved some money…). As usual, the glossy black digipak and bewitching black and white photography are a treat. I’m interested to see what the future holds in store for Monarch, because the band seems to be slowly leaving metal behind. “Sabbat Noir” didn’t have much in the way of metal riffing, and this release is completely riffless. This music has as much in common with avant garde and experimental music as it does with metal. One might be tempted to lazily label this as “post metal”. If you’re already a Monarch fan, by all means pick this up, but if you’re new to the band, start with one of their full-length releases. This isn’t as essential as their best work.
Here's a clip of Monarch at Gilman St (originally uploaded by bcfaulkner):
After seeing the band play this release in its entirety recently, I joked that I could just cut and paste the show review here as a short cut to having to write a CD review, but of course that wouldn’t quite work. Recorded music is different because it allows the listener to really get to know the songs. It also allows hidden gems to grow into favorites. Like I’ve mentioned in the past, Loretta lynch is a convergence of musicians/singers from a number of earlier bands. Val Esway was a central figure in indie folk band Ramona the Pest, Ari Fellows-Mannion arrived via country/folk/rock band Hoarhound, and Heather Davison used to be in The Hanes Family, a band whose songs ran the gamut from country to chilling murder ballads. Loretta Lynch is more unabashedly country sounding than any of those other bands, and for the most part, their lyrics deal with stereotypical country themes. Relationships come under the microscope a number of times – there are songs about the trials of falling in love (Eyes of a Small Town), falling out of love (Used to Be Me), and breathing a sigh of relief after the bastard is gone (Someone You Used to Know and I Need You). Throw in a song about trains (C’mon Train) and truck driving (Indicator), and you’re definitely out in the country (even though the song about trains is about the Berkeley train tracks). Baby Made 1,2,3 is about fondly remembering the freedom of life before parenthood (without actually wanting to trade back, of course), and being a parent, I can somewhat relate. Then there are the cover songs. Covering The Ramones’ I Wanna Be Sedated was a brilliant choice. This is a countrified version, but it does accelerate to punk speed towards the end. In my book, you can do no wrong with Stanley Jones’ Ghost Riders in the Sky, and I was excited when I first saw its inclusion here. It’s one of those iconic country songs, and one that I’ve occasionally found myself humming over the years. Loretta Lynch does a fine job with it too. The only one of the three cover songs that I’m ambivalent about is What Can I Say, written by J. Spampinato of Yo La Tengo. I confess to not knowing much about Yo La Tengo other than being familiar with the band name, but the song strikes me as a bit bland. As for the songs written by members of Loretta Lynch, I absolutely love the disc opener, the Val Esway penned Someone You Used to Know, with its slow, jangly rhythm and evocative, cinematic lyrics about a hard breakup. I can almost see the lonely tumbleweeds blowing across the highway as a nearby motel vacancy sign flickers on and off in the dry evening heat. Another growing favorite is C’mon train, written by Ari Fellows-Mannion and featuring her sweet lead vocals. Appropriately enough, the rhythm is very train-like, insistent and propulsive. The band has a humorous side too, as evidenced by Indicator and I Need You, so there is a little something for everyone, mood-wise. The voices of Davison, Esway, and Fellows-Mannion sinuously entwine with each other while simultaneously asserting their individuality. Dan Olmsted’s guitar playing is perfect, and the other members’ musical efforts fill the songs in quite nicely. Without going back and pulling out earlier Loretta Lynch releases to compare, I’ll tentatively say that this is their best release yet.
Here thay are at the Starry Plough in October, 2007, playing C'mon Train:
Stone Breath/Mike Seed with the Language of Light “The Aetheric Lamp” (AntiClock,Hand/Eye, 2011)
I’ve been a fan of Stone Breath since their first release, “Songs of Moonlight and Rain”, which I bought solely based on the cover artwork only to find that it was Timothy (now known as timeMOTHeye) Renner’s new band. I had heard his earlier band, Mourning Cloak, and liked them, but Stone Breath’s mysterious take on acoustic folk-based music was more compelling to me. Now, many years after that initial discovery, I hold this split LP in my hands. The cover art (as always, created by timeMOTHeye) is still beautiful. I think the two white on black pieces on here were done on a scratchboard. The Stone Breath side features 3 songs, but the first song, Beautiful and Terrible, is so brief that I don’t really count it. It does serve as a nice introduction to what follows though, and is beautifully sung by Brooke Elizabeth. The first proper song is Scorpion Tears, which features an upbeat banjo riff and vocals by timeMOTHeye. Brooke Elizabeth’s beautiful voice adds some nice accents here and there, and Don Belch adds some very nice guitar. The final, and longest, song is The Sky’s Red Tongue, which reminds me of Current 93’s Hitler As Kalki, mostly because of the initial vocal melody, although timeMOTHeye doesn’t sound much like David Tibet. That said, there is sometimes an idiosyncratic atonality that links the two voices in my mind, and when I first heard Mourning Cloak, my initial impression was that they owed a big debt to Current 93, although this is less apparent with Stone Breath. Before too long, the Hitler As Kalki comparison fades in my mind as The Sky’s Red Tongue takes off with a galloping acoustic guitar riff and more beautiful vocals courtesy of Elizabeth. TimeMOTHeye makes good use of whistles and wood flute here as well, creating a haunting atmosphere during the slower parts of the song. I’m already anticipating the two upcoming new full-length Stone Breath releases, “The Night Birds Psalm” and the CD version of “The Aetheric Lamp”, which has an additional seven songs. My appetite is definitely whetted. On the flip side is Mike Seed with The Language of Light, who provide 5 songs. Mike Seed’s vocals are both delicate and charmingly rough around the edges. He sings gentle, folky melodies over The Language of Light’s minimalistic compositions and soundscapes. I’m not sure if “compositions” is the right word though, because the music sometimes sounds improvised. In some ways, the songs remind me of Martyn Bates and Mick Harris’ series of Murder Ballads releases, although Seed’s voice is quite different from Bates’, and these songs here aren’t traditional ones. They do sometimes sound like they could be traditional though, but the credits inform me that they were all written by Mike Seed. The mood is mostly contemplative and haunting, although the second song, Grendel At Long Mynd, is more of a gentle psych-folk piece, with lush strings and a slightly more upbeat mood than the other songs. These songs are continuing to grow on me with each new listen, and they’re a nice complement to the Stone Breath songs on side A. I look forward to getting to know these songs better, and I look forward to hearing more.
I’ve been listening to Doc Wor Mirran for around a quarter century now, ever since I found a couple of their 7” releases while volunteering my time at Blacklist Mailorder in San Francisco (by “volunteering”, I mean stuffing envelopes so I could selfishly get first crack at the records they distributed). Doc Wor Mirran, spearheaded by artist/author/multi-instrumentalist Joseph B. Raimond, is a band that doesn’t sit still, delighting in throwing musical curve balls which, although they unerringly head for left field, always do something surprising along the way. Over the years, the number of “band members”, both willing and unwilling, both knowing and unknowing, has swelled to an impressive number. Those early releases were often lumped in with “noise” and “industrial” (back when the term “industrial” hadn’t yet become synonymous with “dance music”. That’s how I saw it, at least. The band has done everything from garage rock, to punk, ambient drone, noise, experimental, and damaged pop music. Lo-fi, cheesy synths and drum machines often compete with raw guitar and saxophone, and it somehow all works. This disc, “Retch”, is (to quote the liner notes) “a collection of instrumental DWM outtakes and spare tracks,” which in the minds of many, might make it less than essential. It is, after all, comprised of cast-offs. The good news is that it’s priced to move. A physical copy of this release can be yours for a mere $0.00. That’s right. Free. No hidden fees. No shipping and handling costs. Free. I’m not sure how Mr. Raimond is able to give these away, but I’m not going to question it. In fact, he has a whole label (charmingly named Miss Management) under which he releases free DWM music. As for the music, the disc starts out with a brief spoken intro (the last thing that DWM founding member Bernard H. Worrick recorded before “moving to Florida and into Wal-mart oblivion”) which is send up/homage to Star Trek, leading into a track called Trekno, which isn’t at all techno (thankfully), but rather a funky little number with some soothing sax laid down on top of it. The next song is coincidentally entitled Loretta Lynch (see two reviews above), and after a laid-back beginning, it develops into a wacky instrumental that doesn’t sound anything like the band of the same name. Elsewhere, we have the tribal drumming porno of Scripted Destiny, the slowly-building synthiness of Wish I Was In Adine (the beginning of which brings to mind Circle’s “Miljard”). If a synthesizer were to be murdered and resurrected, it might sound like the decrepit zombie synth that ushers Still Greasy After All These Years into existence. It’s a great sound! The song lurches along like this until about 30 seconds from the end, when all of a sudden it takes a sudden turn into plink-plonk land. Strange. The next track, Primed and Sinister, is based around a strangely processed drum beat and some interesting rhythmic creaking/vibrating noises. It features some (mostly spoken) vocals too. The longest song on the album is the nearly 10 minute Music From The Back Seat Of My Fjord (great title), which sounds like DWM’s version of sludge metal. The song builds to a satisfyingly noisy climax, helped along by a wonderfully raw guitar sound, and at the moment I think it’s my favorite song on the disc. The relatively brief Versemmelt closes out the album with a pretty, chiming guitar melody and bubbly bass. While I enjoyed this release, it probably wouldn’t be the first DWM release I’d recommend for somebody new to the group. Although, that said, given the wide range of styles the band plays, I’m not sure if there is any one release that would serve as a definitive introduction. Heck. It’s free. Get it. E-mail Joe at docwormirran@empty.de or check out the website linked above.
Here's a sampling of an earlier work, courtesy of YouTube:
When I first pulled this out of the package, it rattled as if the little plastic prongs that hold the disc in place had broken off in transit. As it turned out, I was wrong. The sound was due to the presence of colorful little plastic beads rattling around underneath the CD tray. I have a good mind to use this as a rattle in some future performance. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Doc Wor Mirran, so on with the review. Like “Retch”, this is another Miss Management free release, but this one isn’t an odds and sods disc, but rather a full studio album of new tracks, and as such, the flow is much better here. The liner notes state that this is DWM’s 111th release, although that no doubt includes some non-music releases. Still, 111 is quite an impressive number. So, what is release number 111 like? If this was the first DWM album to grace my ears, I would come away with the impression that the band was a weird, chilled out indie-rock ensemble. It could almost be some lost seventies art rock record, with its gentle momentum, melodic grooviness, psych rock guitars, and vintage sounding keyboards. Not to mention lots of pleasing, expressive noodling. I haven’t tested out this theory yet, but I have a feeling it would make great road-trip music. It would probably be a great soundtrack for watching the landscape whip by. There are a few humorously jarring moments, like the strange, squelchy keyboard melody on Cesar’s Deminority and the young voices on the following track, Fuzzy Wasabai, attributed to Cedric Raimond and Ewan and Cameron Schueck. I’m assuming that Cedric is DWM bandleader Joseph Raimond’s son, which is yet another coincidence in this batch of reviews, because my own daughter appears on a couple of the releases reviewed below. The lurching bass rhythm and distant horn section on Before Snakes Came To Nuzzle imbue the song with a pleasing melancholy, making it one of my favorites here. My favorite song title though has to be Tuburcular Bells (a nod to the Mike Oldfield “Exorcist” soundtrack piece, Tubular Bells, just in case you require to be pummeled with information today). Over all, this is a welcome addition to the band’s discography, and one I’m sure I’ll be revisiting over the years. It doesn’t have the strange edge or the manic extremity of much of the band’s earlier output, but it’s damn listenable.
First, let me point out that this is likely to be both a biased and uninformed review. The bias comes from the fact that Matt Waldron is a friend of mine and that for a time I was a member of the live incarnation of Irr. App. (ext.), and I consider this an uninformed review simply because I haven’t heard the Organum/Eddie Prevost collaborative album that inspired the sonic pieces here. This was released as a cassette, but I hold in my hands a cdr version that Matt sent me, so I can’t comment on any packaging peculiarities of the cassette version. There are two tracks here, both around 20 minutes long. Matt has helpfully outlined his sound sources in parentheses, as follows: Side A: FLUX (drum kit, fanned & massaged symbols, shortwave & FM radio), Side B: CRAYFISH (railway transformer, massaged plastic bottle, fanned & massaged cymbals, turtle tank, chair, Liles’ refrigerator, shortwave radio, wind turbine, baritone recorder, massaged table, Fall Creek creek fall (in summer). With all of the massaging going on here, maybe Matt should consider getting a side gig as a masseuse. FLUX, with its expressive drum flourishes and manic irrepressibility, reminds me a bit of the Irr. App. (Ext.) opening set for Nurse With Wound the last time they performed in San Francisco. The underlying cymbal washes and smoothed out radio tones serve as a fine counterpoint to all of the exhausting drum activity. CRAYFISH is a slightly more ominous affair, with the buzzing sound of the electric massager meshing well with pleasant creaks and watery burbling. The multi-tracked baritone recorder introduces a sad, stately feel to the piece. The sound of the recorder continues to wind its way through the piece, floating above the (creek)bed of watery drone, oblivious to the enticing bits of sonic decay passing downstream. On the bank, somebody disconsolately fiddles with a shortwave radio. Near the creek, something starts to creak. The sounds eventually fade, leaving the recorder to wind down on its own. I have to say that I prefer CRAYFISH to FLUX, but I’m always drawn to water and woodwinds. I’m going to have to hear the Organum/Prevost collaboration, because now I’m curious. Like everything else that Matt has a hand in, this is a meticulously constructed release. It’s also a limited one, so snatch it up.
Irr.app.(ext.) “The 11-Year Backwards Sleepwalk” (eie, 2011)
Not one to be satisfied with a single cassette release, Mr. Waldron has bequeathed us with yet another pleasingly anachronistic piece of plastic, although like the first, I have a cdr version of it. “The 11-Year Backwards Sleepwalk” was created with the assistance of a virtual VCS3 sequencer, and the resulting sounds are a bit of a departure from the usual Irr. App. (ext.) material, although the term “usual” never really applies. You know what I mean though. Side A (parts 1-4) features looped passages of pulsing electronics with a sense of building tension that occasionally crescendos in a chaotically cascading sonic clusterfuck. Listening with headphones adds an extra dimension to the sound, making the sound seem like it is commuting from ear to ear with little or no regard to the gray matter in between. A little past the halfway mark, the tension ratchets up to a higher plane as the pulses become more insistent and the accompanying sonic bells and whistles (figuratively speaking) take on a harsher tone. Yes, there is an insistent rhythm to the piece, but it’s nothing close to being danceable, thankfully. Eventually, the accompanying sounds fade, leaving the underlying pulse naked and exposed. Moments later, it’s time to flip the cassette. Side B (parts 5-7) comes into being with a morass of strange, half-heard voices and a slower, less frantic rhythm. A short time later, under the pulses and electronic glitchery, I can hear my daughter singing, and then, during a short break in the forward momentum, Matt himself talking about a missing fruit basket. After this, and watery sounding drone buoys up an asylum full of maybe-heard voices before the rhythm once again swells into being. As always, I’m impressed with the interaction of the carefully sculpted and layered sounds. The insistent, looped tones toward the end make this almost sound like some iconic bit of soundtrack from some lost, late-night science fiction series. Like I mentioned at the beginning of the review, this is somewhat of a departure, but at the same time there are enough recognizable elements here to mark it as an Irr. App. (Ext.) release. The cover lists a Side C, entitled Whatever Might Be Going On In Your Head Is Now Your Own Problem. Get it? My biased opinion is that you should go buy this so that you too can have a problem, but do it quickly because it’s limited to 200 copies. And need I mention that the artwork is absolutely beautiful? I thought not.
Here's a snippet of the irr. app. (ext.) performance at the Great American Music Hall, uploaded to YouTube by the same person who uploaded the Monarch clip above. It's a small world:
This is an upcoming Irr. App. (Ext.) release. I’m not sure when or how this will see the light of day, but whenever it does appear, it will have been well worth the wait. L’s Desultory Coronach starts things off strangely, with a loud, meandering child’s voice which eventually distorts into something that sounds like a psych guitar solo, to the accompaniment of acoustic guitar. The voice is actually my daughter (again), and it’s always interesting to hear one’s progeny out of context like this. The track then becomes rhythmic, but the rhythm is almost lost under squalling guitar (or is it my daughter again?) and a veritable onslaught of other noises. X Disgorged From Y also features heavily modified vocals, although they’re more robotic than guitarish. It’s another noisy one too, like a vintage psych rock song bereft of rhythm and melody, with much whooping and carryings-on. Without going into too much detail, the rest of the album plays out like Matt’s version of a psych rock record – Substrate 1 is ominous, with high, keening tones competing with what sounds like masticating arthropods; Torpid Propositions Detonate Lurking Gorse contains sheep, gentle guitar noodling, abrupt drum flourishes, and the occasional child; The Ambidextrous Slough is an exercise in theremin, psych guitar, and lurching percussion; the guitar on Substrate 2 sounds like it was played deep in a cave, accompanied by a rhythm of chickens and metal pipes; Y Dislodged From X has steady percussion under a face ripping electric guitar assault, made slightly ominous by an underlying drone; and Scattered Remains closes things out on a relatively quiet note, with nocturnal skitterings and creakings, free jazz drumming, and languid, distorted guitar, not to mention distant vocals that sound like they were probably sung by Matt. More than any other Irr. App. (Ext.) release, this one should be played loud for full effect. It hits the listener with an immediacy that can’t be denied. Perhaps one of my favorite Irr. App. (Ext.) releases thus far.
Circle-related Pharaoh Overlord’s previous release, “Siluurikaudella”, was a bit of a departure for them, wandering into stranger, more abstract territory than is their norm. “Out Of Darkness” is a return to form, and after the pretty, 43 second intro of The Eyes Of Pharoah, they rip into the title track, sounding more NWOFHM (that’s New Wave of Finnish Heavy Metal for the uninitiated) than ever before. I notice that in addition to the vocals of guitarist Jussi Kangas, there are no less than three guest vocalists here. Sam Velde sings on the title track and I Am The Light, Bruce Duff (Jesters of Destiny) sings on the multifaceted, mid-paced Transylvanian Afternoon and No Speed Limit, as well as playing lead guitar on We Came To Rock, and Frank Meyer sings on We Came To Rock and the nearly 10 minute Devastator (wherein he repeats the title/chorus so many times that listeners would be forgiven for thinking that the record was skipping), as well as playing lead guitar on the latter. Sam Velde has a decent, smooth vocal delivery, Frank Meyer has a rougher, more aggressive sounding voice, and Bruce Duff’s voice is similar to Velde’s (For years, I’ve been peripherally aware of Duff’s band, Jesters of Destiny, but I must admit that I’ve never found the time to explore their music). Guitarist Jussi Kangas can first be heard singing on the chugging Doomsday Mourning, which appropriately enough has a slightly doomy feel to it, while still managing to steer well clear of actually sounding like a doom metal song. Like the other vocalists, he has one of those vintage metal voices that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on some long ago NWOBHM compilation album. The energetic riffing of We Came to Rock reminds me a bit of NWOBHM band Jaguar, which is definitely a compliment. How much you like this album will probably depend on your tolerance for rock songs about rock, NWOBHM worship, and good old fashioned, tongue-in-cheek fun. It helps if you like and understand Circle too. As for me, all of the above is true, although my tolerance for self-referential genre songs fluctuates wildly depending on how seriously the band takes the lyrics. Here though, I can definitely get into the spirit of things and appreciate the intent. This is, after all, the mighty Pharaoh Overlord. The sound doesn’t have the extreme heaviness of many modern metal bands, but effortlessly attains the gritty rawness of the early eighties, and takes me back to a time when I’d spend endless hours in my room just listening to music, long before the responsibilities of adulthood would start to, more often than not, force me to multitask. The songs here might not be as distinctive as those of the best NWOBHM bands, but then again this might just be because I’ve only had this album for a few weeks, while I’ve owned many of the NWOBHM records for three decades now. Those songs have had more of a chance to take up permanent residence in my brain. This comes in a nice gatefold sleeve too, with a rather bizarre cover picture of a tiger getting struck by pink laser beams. Rock!
Here's a clip from their performance at Roadburn earlier this year (uploaded by GigBreeder):
Back in the nineties, I stumbled across the music of Italian prog soundtrack band Goblin, and being me, quickly discovered a number of like-minded composers, most notably Fabio Frizzi. For me, the soundtrack music they created was as an intrinsic part of the Italian giallo and horror films it appeared in as were the story and characters. They deftly combined danceable beats and funky bass lines with an almost palpable aura of menace and wrongness, weaving strands of ominous keyboard passages, sudden stabs of electronic fury, well placed sound effects, and gothic choral pieces into their sonic tapestries. Now, in 2011, via Facebook of all things, I was recently made aware of Umberto (named after Italian director Umberto Lenzi, perhaps?), a band who very obviously admire the same old Italian soundtrack composers that I do. Umberto evokes that particular genre, country, and feel even more precisely than Pharaoh Overlord conjure up visions of the NWOBHM. The cover artwork is perfect as well, looking like the cover of that Italian horror soundtrack record you never managed to acquire back in the eighties. Sure, this isn’t original in any way, but just like I appreciate new bands who look to NWOBHM for inspiration, I can’t find it in my heart to condemn Umberto for their lack of originality. This is a fine Italian horror soundtrack tribute release, and I have to say I enjoy it more than the most recent Goblin and Claudio Simonetti releases. Sure, Simonetti has his new band, Daemonia, but as of yet they’ve been content to merely re-record old Goblin and other horror soundtrack songs. The keyboard sound on this disc is especially effective. There is a dark grittiness to it that really satisfies. Elsewhere, the grittiness is replaced by sweeps of gothic melodrama – the kind that Fabio Frizzi always did so well. Someone is Chasing Someone Through A House, like its title suggests, is a song that absolutely needs to accompany a chase scene, although when I listen to it I imagine a car chase, which would be kind of hard to do through a house. The sun peeks through on Everything Is Going To Be Okay, although the title brings to mind Dario Argento’s brief cameo in “Innocent Blood” – his character, a paramedic, utters those words, or something similar, and everything ends up being very decidedly not okay. Add to this some nice, punchy bass and percussion, and you’ll feel for all the world like you’re trapped in a vintage giallo picture, where anything could happen at any time. Somewhere, the killer is slowly zipping up the leather gloves and arranging the fetishes just so.
Check out this great live clip (uploaded by justincarrick):
Reading though a variety of metal blogs (in particular, Doommantia), I kept coming across near ecstatic recommendations of The Wounded Kings. Writers were toting them as having released one of the best new doom metal albums of the year, so naturally, I bit. I haven’t heard the earlier albums, so I won’t be making any comparisons between the old and new line-ups, but what I hear here makes me want to delve into the band’s back catalog. The album only contains four songs, but three of them are over the 10 minute mark, with the odd song out being the slightly less than 4 minute instrumental, Return of the Sorcerer. The album immediately impresses with its exquisite use of keyboards – the sounds produced bring to mind the type of gothic horror that likes of Paul Chain and Black Hole do so well. New vocalist Sharie Neyland has a shiver-inducing voice, sounding like her soul is encased in ice. The sprawling songs chug along at sub-Candlemass speed, with menacing, heavy riffs that, despite bringing nothing new to the table, satisfy on a visceral level. The lyrics are suitably drenched in doom as well, offering no real surprises but getting the job done nicely. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this the “album of the year”, but I might if I only listened to doom metal. It’s definitely one of the best traditional doom metal albums I’ve heard in awhile.
Here's the old line-up, live (uploaded by thegreyman):
TwinSisterMoon “Levels and Crossings” reissue (Digitalis, 2008)
I’ve gotten so many Natural Snow Buildings, TwinSisterMoon, and Isengrind releases this year that they’re starting to run together in my head. This is what happens when new sounds reach my ears, especially when they’re as divine as these. I go into “acquire” mode, and sometimes I gather so many releases in such a short amount of time that they don’t have a chance to properly sink in. This one popped up on Discogs for a reasonable price (which seems to be rare, since many sellers seem intent on gouging hapless music nerds to within an inch of bankruptcy) so I figured I’d better get it quickly, so get it I did. The disc, which, as usual, is graced with the engaging artwork of Solange Gularte (TwinSisterMoon mastermind Mehdi Ameziane’s Natural Snow Buildings partner). It’s a six panel fold-out digipak too, with lyrics printed inside. The music gets started with the 11-plus minute Winter Pamgri Epidemic, an absolutely bewitching excursion into haunting mysticism, with eastern-sounding drones and Ameziane’s childlike voice commanding attention. The following song, Soul-Fate, is a simpler affair, with gentle guitar and soft vocals, later joined by idyllic woodwinds. The rest of the album follows in similar fashion, with shorter pieces prevailing in number. The short pieces, with Ameziane’s androgynous, childlike vocals and acoustic instrumentation, are often charmingly lo-fi and uniformly beautiful, so much so that I’d be hard pressed to pick a favorite among them. I find that to be the case with many TwinSisterMoon, Isengrind (Solange Gularte’s solo project), and Natural Snow Buildings releases – they feel like they need to be listened to and enjoyed in their entirety, rather than as songs in cherry-picked isolation. There are 2 songs that breach the 10 minute barrier; the aforementioned Winter Pamgri Epidemic, and the exquisite title track. In addition to the usual propulsive percussion and starry-eyed droning, the title track ups the ante with squalling guitar, which creates nice edge to the song. Your CD player will tell you that the slow, melancholy closing song, Veins, is over 13 minutes long, but it’s lying. There is a roughly 5 minute chunk of silence in the middle of the track before the music, with Ameziane singing a wordless melody, starts up again and gently pulls the curtain closed less than 3 minutes later. On this recording, I lean towards liking the long drone pieces the best, although all of the songs are nice. There is just something about how Ameziane (and Gularte, when Ameziane is working with her in the context of Natural Snow Buildings) can inject so much magic and mystery into drone-based music. This just might be my favorite TwinSisterMoon release, although like I mentioned at the beginning of the review, I’ve gotten so much material in such a short amount of time that the releases tend to run together in my mind. I have a tendency to declare each new (to me) release my favorite, just because of its newness to me. I guess I really live in the moment sometimes.
October was a busy month, at least as far as my music consumption is concerned. After a couple of months of showing restraint, I fell off the wagon so hard I cracked the ground. Still, there are some damn good releases reviewed below, so I won’t complain too loudly about my lack of willpower.
As with both Comus and Simon Finn (reviewed last month), my introduction to Sand came about because of my long term fascination with Current 93. In this case, it was because Current 93 covered Sand’s When The May Rain Comes on their “Thunder Perfect Mind” release, which eventually led me to buy a copy of the “Ultrasonic Seraphim”, double disc which included Sand’s classic album, “Golem”, and a plethora of other Sand and Sand-related songs (attributed to Sand vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Johannes Vester, in the guise of Johannes Vester and his Vester Bester Tester Electric Folk Orchestra). I bought it directly from David Tibet, who in lieu of taking the money himself, directed me to put it in a piggy bank where he was collecting money for the Cat Protection League. I’m happy that my humble purchase helped the needy cats of London, which was an added bonus to discovering the sonic world of Sand. The band fascinated me with their strange take on Krautrock, managing to sound somehow ancient and creaky while also producing music that stood apart from what everybody else was doing at the time. Their sound was partially due to a recording process (created by Klaus Schulze and engineer Manfred Schunke) called “Artificial Head Stereo Sound”, which produced the illusion that the sound was coming at the listener from all sides. Fast forward to the present, and we find French label Rotorelief in the midst of a campaign to flood the world with a series of Sand releases. Last year, the label reissued Sand’s classic album, “Golem”, which I didn’t buy because all of the songs were initially reissued on “Ultrasonic Seraphim”. “Desert Navigation”, on the other hand, contains 2 songs that aren’t on “Ultrasonic Seraphim” (as well as 4 that are), making it an essential purchase for me. The first of the 2 songs is called, Touch the Tyrants, and was written solely by Johannes Vester way back in 1975, the year I turned 8. To my ears, it sounds similar to and just as good as the songs that made it onto the double disc. A motorik bass line drives the song along under a hypnotic synthesizer melody that wouldn’t have been out of place in a seventies spy film. I can almost picture the film in my head – washed out colors and all. Later on, a female voice joins the melody (Christa Schunke, perhaps related to engineer Manfred Schunke?), providing a nice climax to the song. Vester’s vocals are a bit hard to describe to the uninitiated – they’re strangely inflected, with a bit of a German accent showing through, but also timeless and world-weary sounding. The other new (to me, although compared to the other songs, it actually is much newer, written in 1982) song is Tendrara, and while it retains the Sand sound, it’s a bit different from the other songs on this disc, most notably because Vester doesn’t provide the vocals. Instead, we’re treated to the beautiful voice of Martine Rossi-Meru, who manages to sound both beguilingly exotic and compellingly weary. She is credited with the lyrics too, while the music was written by guitarist Ludwig Papenberg. Elsewhere, we get lost in the massive, melancholy Desert Storm, get singed by the chiming acoustic guitar and rollercoaster bass line of Burning House, and warily watch the circling of the short twin instrumentals which book-end the album, Vulture I and Vulture II. I can’t wait for the next installment in this series of releases, which according to the Rotorelief website (as well as the back of the CD cover for this release) include three more Sand releases and a Nurse With Wound album. The label has also re-released Current 93’s version of the song as an EP, which includes both the “Thunder Perfect Mind” version and the remix version that came as a free CD with initial release of “Ultrasonic Seraphim”. As if this isn’t enough, the cover art is credited to a certain Babs Santini, aka Steven Stapleton.
This release finds itself surrounded by the inevitable controversy that bubbles to the surface whenever a metal band takes a step beyond the genre. Many metal fans are incredibly resistant to change. This may be partially because of their age (chronological or mental) or maybe just because they limit themselves to listening to one genre of music. I’ll admit that I was once like that, way back when I was a young teenager, but I grew out of it. I mention this here to illustrate that I can understand why some people might not like this release. On the accompanying “making of” DVD, guitarist/vocalist Mikael Akerfeldt acknowledges this as well, stating that this disc will probably divide the fans. He also mentions that he likes constant change, so there you have it. This release is agreeably saturated with various keyboard instruments, including Mellotron, grand piano, Hammond B3, Fender Rhodes, and Wurlitzer. This gives the album a seventies progressive rock feel. In addition to this, bassist Martin Mendez branches out and plays upright bass on some songs. There are a couple of guest musicians as well. Famed drummer Alex Acuna plays some beautiful percussion on Famine, a song which also features some nice flute, courtesy of Bjorn J:son Lindh (I just realized I have a CD of his in my collection – it’s a small world). The general vibe of the album is closer to that produced by heavy progressive bands like Anekdoten or Landberk, to name a couple of contemporary examples. Akerfeldt’s vocal delivery really brings to mind both of these bands as well. This is much more of a progressive rock album than a metal one, although it’s definitely heavy progressive rock, interwoven with beautiful threads of melancholy. The song Slither was recorded as a tribute to Ronnie James Dio, and sounds a bit more like vintage Rainbow (think Kill the King). It’s hard to pick a favorite song because they flow together so nicely. It’s better to concentrate on the album as a whole, letting the music wash over you. Perhaps in a few more listens I’ll have some definite favorites. The accompanying DVD features a 5.1 surround sound mix of the album, which I can’t comment on because I don’t have the correct technology at my disposal. Also on the DVD is an hour long documentary on the making of the album, mostly in English, and with English subtitles when Swedish is spoken. Akerfeldt comes off as intelligent and dryly humorous, making the documentary enjoyable and interesting. I especially like the part near the end when he talks about the downside of touring, mentioning not only the time away from family and friends, but time away from his cats and record collection. I can relate. There are also two downloadable bonus tracks, the upbeat yet melancholy Pyre and the beautiful, reflective ballad, Face In the Snow, which can be accessed by going to the Roadrunner Records website and inserting the DVD into your computer. This is definitely an album to immerse oneself in, and I’ll be revisiting it often over the coming weeks, if not years. For those listeners who are disappointed in the band’s change of direction, 8 of the band’s 9 previous studio albums are very metal. Go back and revisit them. As for me, I think Opeth have pulled off this stylistic change very nicely (although they’ve been evolving all along), and I’ll be interested to find out what future releases will be like.
Johnny Kask “Sluten Anstalt Blues” CD (MIB Records, 2010)
If members of Swedish punk band Asta Kask were to record a bunch of Johnny Cash songs, they would have to call the project “Johnny Kask”, and that’s just what they did. Furthermore, the record label would have to be called MIB (Man in Black) and sure enough, that’s what it is. There are two members of Asta Kask involved here: guitarists/vocalists Bonni Ponten and Micke Blomqvist. They are joined by Ola Svensson on bass and vocals, and Mattias Ekman on drums. All members are decked out in black (of course) for the back cover photo, and I love the “prison photos” inside the booklet. This is a live EP, and it clocks in at slightly under 22 minutes, and I imagine that for many the appeal will be the sheer novelty value of hearing Johnny Cash songs sung in Swedish. As for me, I’ve loved Asta Kask since the eighties, and I enjoy Johnny Cash as well (although admittedly I don’t own any of his releases), so I was definitely excited when I was messing around on eBay and I stumbled across this disc for sale. For Asta Kask fans, this is sort of like listening to a mellower country version of the band (although not too far removed from the sound of the Asta Kask song, Johnny Boy), and for Johnny Cash fans, it’s like hearing Cash’s smooth, deep vocals replaced by rougher Swedish voices. The songs covered here are I Got Stripes, Cry Cry Cry, Tennessee Flat Top Box, Give My Love To Rose, Folsom Prison Blues, and Daddy Sang Bass. At the moment, I think Daddy Sang Bass is my favorite, due to its high energy level and infectious chorus. This is a strange, fun little release, although its brevity is such that it seems to be over before it really gets started.
When Canadian singer Lhasa De Sela died on New Year’s Day, 2010, I was shocked and saddened. Speaking as a fan of her music, I can now only imagine what she might have released had she remained alive. Canadian band Esmerine have dedicated “La Lechuza” to Lhasa, and the album is very much in the spirit of her music, complete with languid, smoky vocals and lush arrangements guiding the listener through a world that might have been. This is the first release by Esmerine that I’ve purchased, and my main incentive behind getting it was the connection to Lhasa De Sela. That said, the fact that Esmerine are on the wonderful Constellation Records label and feature percussionist Bruce Cawdron (Godspeed You! Black Emperor) and cellist Rebecca Foon, who at one time played in the marvelous Silver Mt. Zion, definitely helped in my decision to purchase this. They are joined here by Sarah Page (harp, dulcimer) and Andrew Barr (marimba, drums, melodic percussion), plus a number of guest musicians who help to create a wonderful modern chamber music sound. The mood here is appropriately reflective, with many of the songs being instrumentals, and the last song is an unreleased version of Lhasa De Sela’s Fish On Land (originally from her self-titled third album) that was recorded with Cawdron and Foon during the recording sessions for that album. The tidal pull of cello, punctuated with lonely piano notes, provides and aching bed for De Sela’s late-night, sensual voice and oneiromantic lyrics. The version here is more funereal that the one on Lhasa’s album, and I prefer it. I can’t help but wonder how many other unreleased versions of Lhasa’s songs are waiting in the wings. Other standouts include Snow Day For Lhasa, with pianist Patrick Watson supplying some very Lhasa-like vocals, full of smoke and longing. It’s a fitting tribute. Not all of the songs are quiet and reflective though. Sprouts swells into a dulcimer-inflected percussive romp (I can imagine this as a soundtrack to a time lapse film of growing greenery), and Little Streams Make Big Rivers has a very Godspeed-like dynamic, which gives way nicely to the wintery Au Crepuscule, Sans Laisse. We’ll never hear a new Lhasa De Sela album, but we do have this one to comfort us in her absence.
Jim Haynes “The Decline Effect” Double LP (Helen Scarsdale, 2011)
At long last, the new Jim Haynes double LP has arrived, bringing with it four side-long sound pieces. The first track, Ashes, originally came to life as a soundtrack commission before appearing here in different form (in the liner notes, Haynes calls it a “continued study”). The piece starts out with a gritty texture, like that of sand being ground underfoot, or if one keeps the title in mind, like someone sifting through ashes. From there, things become smoother and more ominous, although the tension-building drone is punctuated by the juddering sound of some wayward electric device. The drone builds into what sounds like bees trapped in a distant ventilation duct, a sound which is both claustrophobic and portentous. Terminal, named for Lassen Volcanic National Park’s Terminal Geyser, has a watery birth, flowing liquidly from the speakers. This isn’t surprising though, because Haynes used the geysers at Lassen as sound sources. The placid burbling eventually gives way to the hissing of escaping steam and the splashdown of cascading water droplets. I don’t know how much of this is pure field recording, but it could almost pass for an audio tour of the geysers, although at the end the bombardment of superheated water is such that actual park visitors would be instantly inspired to seek the exits. For the listener at home, it is much simpler. Put away the first record and put record number two on the turntable. Half-Life, which Haynes introduces as “an approximation of radioactive decay through electro-magnetism or something to that effect,” sounds less earthy, more removed from the natural order of things. It’s a world of crackling Geiger counters and slowly shifting tones. If Terminal could be said to have a happy field recording vibe, this one feels more like, “what have we wrought?”. It becomes steadily more ominous as it progresses, with sonic winds weathering the outcroppings into a glassy, abiotic smoothness. The final track, Cold, utilizes “sounds (originating) from the harmonics and overtones from various wire recordings,” and manages to sound orchestral and alien by equal degrees. Beneath the more melodic tones is a sub-basement where small creatures sift through rusted detritus, creating scraping and scurrying sounds that rise up through the pipes to the orchestra pit. Eventually the two worlds collide with a resounding din, making this the noisiest of the four sound pieces here. This isn’t something to be listened to while driving or multitasking in any other way. It’s best to find some time and sink into a chair where you can listen uninterrupted as the sound textures wash over you. This is sound art at its finest. It’s not background music.
Inside the hand-sewn booklet to this CD, towards the end, past the step by step drawings of how to build a cabin, is the entreaty, “let’s all try to be sources of light to family, friends, loved ones, and strangers in these dark, dark days…” On the facing page is a drawing of the completed cabin, with solar panels and a windmill. It speaks to me of the need for self-sufficiency in uncertain times, and of the need to remember what is important. A cabin is a place of happiness and comfort, a place to shelter from the storm, and a place to spend time with other people. I can imagine orange light spilling from rustic windows, contrasting with the cold blue outside. It’s a nice scene. The music here, by Rob Fisk, is gentle and haunting. I hesitate to call it somber, although that description might occasionally apply as well. To me it sounds more like quiet hope. Fisk’s vocals are high and ghostly, like an audio interpretation of the aurora borealis, and the accompanying music, on viola, guitar, and other instruments, is slow and deliberate, although it occasionally, like on disc opener Steal Your Hair, and towards the end of Red Bears, erupts into electric, squalling noise. The overall mood though is contemplative and wintery. Snowballs for Reuven dispenses with instrumentation altogether, being composed of overlapping, echoey vocal tracks which seem to drift downwards like leaves or snowflakes. The songs here aren’t quite as focused as those on Common Eider, King Eider’s subsequent releases, but they meander along pleasantly enough. This is essentially a Rob Fisk solo record (as far as I can tell), while later releases feature Gregory Hagen, George Chen, and Vicky Fong. Still, there is much to like here. The final track, Bread King, with its driving melody, sheets of noise guitar, and multiple layers of vocals, is especially nice. Plus, if you ever need to know how to actually build a cabin, you can use the included instructions.
C. Ryder Cooley “Animalia Animation” DVD (self-released, 2011)
Not content to just produce music, C. Ryder Cooley (Ex-Down River, and current member of Fall Harbor, alongside Todd Chandler) has written and illustrated a strange little book, and then, with the help of Bart Woodstrup, who animated Cooley’s drawings, turned the whole thing into a short film. The book itself sprang from “an ongoing series of lyrical performances Created by Ryder Cooley,” so this is a story that has jumped from medium to medium. Who knows where it will end up next? “Animalia”, subtitled “an inter-species fairytale”, is a journey through a surreal, childlike world of half-human musical waifs, and a host of animals, including bees, crows (to the tune of Fall Harbor’s Crow Carnival), ghost buffalo, circus elephants, and a very special deer. The journey of the claw footed young protagonist begins at a beehive and progresses through a carnival, a violent circus (complete with phallic-missile imagery), and a buffalo graveyard. Near the end, she melds with her friend the deer and they float back over the various scenes to end up back at the beehive, somehow completing a very strange cycle. The description on the back of the DVD case notes that it is the renouncing of humanity that allows the girl to fly (and thus escape from the troubling scenes below). I’m reminded of an long ago conversation I had with Cooley, where she mentioned going to an artists’ retreat (this piece was actually created at MacDowell Colony, which I believe is a colony of artists), and I said something about how it would be nice to see an artists’ advance, to which she emphatically responded that, no, she liked artists’ retreats. Ryder’s banjo and accordion music is the perfect soundtrack to the water-stained backdrops, rustic line-drawings, and surreal imaginative leaps. Not to mention her gentle, childlike voice. The soundtrack is also saturated with the natural sounds of bees, crickets, and the like. The color tones are earthy and autumnal, bringing to mind the gentle rusting of forgotten machinery, or orchards in winter. The backwoods, carnivalesque music nicely complements the imagery. Whether one wants to treat this as a metaphor for life, a story about change (or more specifically, stories of “collapse, calamity, and departure”, as the beginning titles state), or as a 15 minute escape into la-la land will depend on the viewer. As for me, I’ve always enjoyed Cooley’s strangely archaic aesthetic sense, so I’m quite happy with this little film.
Ruby Howl “Heaven Hides There Too” CD (Out of Round, 2011)
Vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Patrick Kadyk, along with sisters Laurie (voices, tenor guitar) and Jennifer Hall (voices, drums) comprise the core trio of this band. I mention Kadyk first because I’m a fan of his previous project, the gypsy-inflected Hazy Loper, who were so good at injecting the spirit of Eastern European nomads into their sound. Ruby Howl still retains a little bit of that spirit, mostly thanks to Kadyk’s presence, but their sound is more in the melancholy indie rock vein. This is the second Ruby Howl release, following their debut, “The Wind and the Tiger”. Ruby Howl’s songs don’t hit me as immediately as the Hazy Loper ones did, but then again I’m a sucker for that Eastern European sound, which was more present in the Hazy Loper releases. This disc has been gently growing on me though, with the subtle harmonies and unhurried vibe of the songs slowly sinking into my soul. When the two Halls sing together the result is quite beautiful, and when Kadyk lends his voice to the songs, such as on Strange World, Ride, and especially on the haunting Forest of Eyes, I’m reminded a bit of Hazy Loper. Like I mentioned in a recent live review, the tenor guitars played by Kadyk and Laurie Hall are strange instruments, which I believe were built by Kadyk. I could be wrong though. I do wish that Kadyk’s banjo appeared on more songs, because as the years go by my appreciation for the instrument keeps growing. Another thing about this recording is that it doesn’t really prepare the listener for what a rock band Ruby Howl is live. Well, maybe it does if you really crank the volume here. The disc ends appropriately enough with the song, Fare Thee Well, which highlights both the wistful melancholy side and the rock tendencies of the band. If I had to pick a favorite song, at the moment I’d have to say either the sinuous Armadillo, with its emotive climax and the beautiful harmony vocals courtesy of the Hall sisters, or the aforementioned Forest of Eyes. Yes, I lean towards the quieter songs. Like I mentioned though, this disc reveals new subtleties with each listen, so I may have a different favorite the next time I listen to it. That excites me. The playful, colorful cover art is courtesy of fellow musician Christine Shields.
In a world where singers were appreciated for their voices rather than their connections and marketability, Declan de Barra would be a household name. He has a voice that strangely reminds me of the likes of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan – it’s that powerful. Of course, de Barra isn’t a Sufi singer. He sings mostly love songs (although he occasionally rails against injustice and other social ills as well), accompanying himself on guitar (electric and acoustic), piano, and percussion, and often backed by viola, violin, cello, lap steel, and drums. This album was recorded in Dublin back in 2008, although since then de Barra seems to have relocated to Southern California. My first exposure to many of the songs on here was when I caught the last part of a solo set by de Barra in a tiny venue out near the bay in San Francisco. His voice inspired me to pick up the CD, and I’m glad I did. It’s nice to hear the songs fleshed out by additional strings, and it’s even nicer to be able to listen to these songs whenever I want to. The CD comes in a beautiful, six-panel digipack, with the lyrics to the songs printed on a series of 5 cards featuring some very nice, earth-toned artwork, mostly of animals. As I type, I’m being stared at by the deep black eyes of a Barn Owl (I can’t help but notice the lyrics to Red Forests, the opening line of which is “They sent an owl with whispers in her eyes”). The album is short, lasting slightly over 28 minutes, and many of the songs have a yearning to them that is made that much more poignant by de Barra’s masterful singing. Songs like Brightest Star and Diamonds have lyrics that most people can only dream of being the inspiration for. Elsewhere, On and On sports a childlike melody, but has lyrics about social inequality and that original opium of the masses, religion (arguably now replaced by the entertainment industry and inexpensive tech gadgets). The last song, the aforementioned Red Forests, features backward-tracked music over quiet vocals, but amidst the strange melancholy of the music is a message of hope: “And all of the things that brought you down/Just may rise you up again.” This is primal stuff, impassioned and delivered with talent and heart. It may just be the music that heals you in your hour of need.
Occasionally, I first hear bands the old-fashioned way: on a compilation album. This being the 21st century, more and more often, compilation albums are given away free in digital form. This is the case here. An acoustic version of Kwoon’s song, I Lived On The Moon, appeared on French label Les Disques Du 7eme Ciel’s free download compilation, “Two Summers”. I appreciated the song enough to eventually pick up this disc, Kwoon’s debut release. I’ll eventually work my way forward and get their more recent releases, but it’s best to start at the beginning (actually, this was the cheaper one and I was feeling thrifty at the time of purchase). The band is described as post rock, a term that historically has been applied to bands that have moved beyond the boundaries of traditional rock sound while still utilizing rock instrumentation. These days, more and more so, it usually means, “sounds kind of like Godspeed You Black Emperor or Sigur Ros”. In this case, that’s a fair description, with glacial keyboard passages, gentle vocals, and songs that build into enormous, string-driven crescendos. Eventually, this kind of music may very well become post-post rock and merge with modern classical (although how something can be both “modern” and “classical” is a bit of a mystery). Sure, in the sonic world we live in, this is nothing groundbreaking, and it doesn’t quite hit the heights attained by the best of the genre, but I’m sucker for this combination of fuzzed out guitars, strings, and melancholy. I have to keep in mind that this is their debut release too, and as far as debut releases go, it’s quite solid. I have yet to spend some quality time with their newer material. The band is great at building atmosphere though, and some of the passages are very cinematic, in particular the song, Kwoon. If you’re a fan of the aforementioned bands or of, say, classic Pink Floyd, this might appeal to you. The packaging is very minimal. In fact, other than the track listing, the CD comes with no information whatsoever. It’s a minor complaint though, because in the end, it’s all about the music.
What? What do you mean you don’t have a copy of the original 2007 cdr release? Oh yeah – there were only 30 copies. It’s a good thing that Blackest Rainbow have reissued this as a stunning red vinyl double LP with beautiful artwork by Solange Gularte. I especially love the amazingly detailed interior artwork, which covers the entire two panels. Some of the elements of her style bring to mind the work of American artist, Jim Woodring, especially some of the odd little creatures populating the scene. As for the music, this was Mehdi Ameziane’s first Twinsistermoon release, and all of the elements that find their way into his later releases are present here – the pleasingly lo-fi garage drone, the delicate, androgynous vocals, and most of all, the sense of childlike wonder and mystery that pervades all of Ameziane’s releases. I called his vocals androgynous, but I think “childlike” is a better description, although I have yet to meet a child who can sing this well (and I work with children, not to mention the fact that I have a daughter, so I’m around them a lot). This is more song oriented than most of the Natural Snow Buildings releases, as well as the more recent Twinsistermoon material, although some of the songs, like the lengthy and excellent The Vampire of Suburbia, meld the structured approach with the more freeform drone approach. There is even a traditional song on here, in the form of Cruel Brother. Nearly three sides of this release are from the original cdr, with the final track on side C and the entirety of side D being unreleased songs recorded during the same months (between March and May, 2006) as the previously issued material (if you can call 30 copies previously issued, that is). The previously unreleased songs are every bit as good as the songs from the original cdr, especially the immense drone of Cyclops, which gives way to an infectious little melody in its closing moments. I assume that many people have probably acquired this music via some Mp3 blog or other, but I encourage people to buy this because Blackest Rainbow is a label that inspires support (not to mention the artists themselves, who of course also deserve support). I’d like to see them continue reissuing out of print Twinsistermoon, Natural Snow Buildings, and Isengrind music, preferably with lots of nice artwork and extra tracks.
Amebix “Sonic Mass” CD (Amebix Records/EasyAction, 2011)
This is perhaps the most highly anticipated release of the year for me. I even preordered the UK version, which was supposed to be shipped early enough to arrive in my mailbox by the equinox. As it turns out, I didn’t get notification that it had shipped until the day before the equinox, so my observation of the midway point between the solstices was not accompanied by any new Amebix songs. The good news is that it did finally arrive (and it was one of the random black discs too!), and that it is everything I hoped it would be, and more. That seems to be the general consensus amongst the other reviewers as well, but let me put my spin on it. In interviews, the band has stated that their intention is that this album be taken as a whole, not as dismembered segments to be listened to on an iPod while the listener multitasks his or her way through the day. Perhaps because of the time during which I grew up, I can relate to this. I fondly remember being a kid and being able to shut the rest of the world out while I sat in front of my stereo, listening over and over again to a favorite record. In spiritual compliance with this wish, I’m not going to do any sort of track by track analysis, but instead focus on my overall impression of this release. I always imagine that the Miller brothers (Rob on bass and vocals, and Stig on guitar) live along a ley line and due to this fortunate geographical placement, are connected to something profound and powerful. I can’t think of another band who manages to make me simultaneously weep and rejoice. There is something deeply pagan about this music, so connected is it to the seasons and other cycles that surround us. For me, this music addresses and soothes a yearning to divorce myself from the spiritual emptiness and disconnectedness of modern society. This is a call for freedom, a snapping of invisible chains, and a bridge to something better. It would be defeatist to call it a bridge to a utopian past. I like to think of it as a bridge to a possible future. It is music like this that will give us the strength to cross that bridge. The contributions of drummer Roy Mayorga need to be mentioned as well, because his drums and keyboards (not to mention the fact that he mixed, engineered and produced this too) are of course an integral part of this release. His skill behind the drum kit has introduced a whole new facet to the Amebix sound, not to mention his subtle use of keyboard textures. There are echoes of ancient civilizations in the sounds, reinforced by the chant of Baraka (meaning “blessing” in more than one language) during The Messenger, and the name-checking of various ancient deities during the following song, God of the Grain. The songs themselves run the gamut from quiet and introspective to the kind of chugging power we all remember from past Amebix releases, although during these moments there is a newfound maturity to the sound, and the choruses make me want to kick myself into gear and conquer the world. It’s interesting to note that the song Knights of the Black Sun, which they released as single back in June, takes on a whole new life now that it can be heard in association with the rest of the album. Perhaps the album of the year.
Counterblast “Nothingness” CD (Alerta Antifascista, 2011)
Counterblast formed from the ashes of Swedish hardcore band, G-anx, who were a somewhat schizophrenic beast in that many of their songs had long, quiet intros that would erupt into abrasive frenzy with little or no warning. Counterblast smoothed out the abruptness a bit, and slowed the pace down, going the Neurosis route of progressing beyond their punk roots and injecting increasingly ominous sounding atmospheres into their songs. This is their 3rd full-length release, and the first since “Impassivity” (2002), although they did put out a 10” last year, which I reviewed back in January. I’ve played this one a few times since I’ve gotten it, but always while I was doing something else. It isn’t until I finally sat down and gave it my undivided attention that I noticed they have subtly progressed since their last album (and since it has been nearly a decade since its release, they damn well better have). The hoarse growl of the vocal delivery (everybody but the drummer is credited with vocals) has been tempered by a new sense of epic-sounding melody, and a few unexpected instruments appear, such as pump organ and zither, although they’re used sparingly. The first song, Away, starts quietly enough with what sounds like the chanting of Tibetan monks, although the song soon builds into something quite a bit more anguished. On the second song, The Truth Will Remain…, the melody during the quiet part sounds like it is played on a Kantele, and it may very well be, since a Kantele is a type of zither. Maybe they didn’t feel the need to be quite so specific in the credits. Flood of Nothingness a bursting ball of anguish, with wonderfully gritty bass and a chugging riff tempered by melodic guitar passages. Spirit Displaced is a quiet piece performed on pump organ, zither and acoustic guitar, courtesy of bass player Andreas Agren, who also provided the ominously sung vocals. The song’s lyrics, “I lay encased in cold empty space/rest in oblivion, spirit displaced”, are more or less typical of the band’s lyrical approach. It is interesting that so many bands in this particular sub-genre come across as so cathartically anguished and despairing, while the band that arguably fathered the genre, Amebix, has always been so empowering and hopeful in their approach. Many of the same subjects are touched on though, such as the folly of religion and the spiritual emptiness of modern society. The propulsive, throbbing Love Lies Bleeding contains a mellow, almost progressive rock sounding center. Failure has an almost tribal sounding beat and bitter, bitter lyrics, plus some nice interplay between the keyboard and guitars in the latter half of the song. Black Heart closes out the album in less than cheery fashion, and it does it epically. There is spoken word section in the middle, although it is kind of hard to make out what the words are, since they are soon swallowed by the despairing howls of the vocalists. This is my favorite Counterblast release to date, and at the moment, I’d say that only Neurosis does this kind of thing better. Now, if only Counterblast would come back for another tour of the States. It has been too long since I last saw them perform.
I like it when I get an extra CD inside a package. This one hitchhiked along with my Counterblast CD, and the two releases, on the surface at least, sound very similar. That said, what lurks beneath the surface is much more important. You might even call this kind of music post-crust, with vocal delivery that is by turns either anguished or maudlin, fuzzy doom metal riffing, quiet parts with additional instrumentation (cello and piano make appearances on some of Beneath the Frozen Soil’s songs). Beneath the Frozen Soil have five songs here, culminating in the 13+ minute So Still, So Overwhelmingly Silent, which features an opening riff that reminds me a bit of Candlemass. Overall though, the band doesn’t come close to the best representatives of this type of music. If I want to listen to this kind of thing, I’ll almost always pick the likes of Neurosis, or perhaps Counterblast or Fall of Efrafa. The song titles strike me as being a bit overwrought too, reminding me of something I might have come up with as a teenager. That said, this is a problem I have with a lot of the bands in the doom/sludge/crust subgenres. The other band, Negative Reaction, takes up less than 20 minutes of the 53+ minute disc, keeping their contribution short and sweet. The music is slightly more upbeat, although “upbeat” is a relative term. The songs feature lots of downtuned chuggery, underlying angry, bellowed vocals. The vocalist sounds like he has just discovered he’s on fire, and is trying to put out the blaze with lung power alone. Neither band offers anything new to the genre. Years ago, the cello and piano might have raised a few eyebrows, but now it seems to be almost a requirement rather than an innovation. File under “heard it before and heard it better”. I’m guessing that both bands are young ones though, and their hearts are definitely in the right place, so maybe in time they’ll find their own sounds and progress beyond what can be heard on this disc. Oops. I just checked out Negative Reaction's site, and right at the top it says "since 1990". I guess they aren't so young after all.
Junius “The Martyrdom Of A Catastrophist” CD (The Mylene Sheath, 2009)
I picked this up when I saw Junius play recently. A new CD has been released since then, but I haven’t gotten around to hearing that one yet. At the show, I was impressed by their melodic heaviness and the fact that they weren’t really a heavy metal band, but instead came across as a super heavy post rock band, sort of like the newer material from Katatonia. This studio recording doesn’t quiet convey the heaviness that the band projected in live setting, but it’s still an impressive release. The catastrophist of the title is Russian-born American scholar Immanuel Velikovsky (1895-1979), and this seems to be a concept album about his life. In addition to the well crafted lyrics about Velikovsky and his ideas, there are some very nice sepia-toned drawings in the booklet that accompanies the CD, illustrating the story. As for the music, a lot of the more conservatively minded metalheads probably won’t like this. I’ve already heard the band dismissed as “hipsters”, which is another one of those open-to-interpretation insults that seems to be making the social rounds at the moment. Whether you look at this as heavy indie rock, volume-infused shoegaze, progressive rock, post-rock, or adventurous heavy metal, the fact remains that Junius write intelligent, subtle music paired with interesting lyrics. One might be tempted to file this one under “intellectual metal”. My one complaint is that the songs are all quite similar in character, although the final song, The Mourning Eulogy, like its name suggests, is a bit quieter and more mournful in tone. There isn’t a lot of variety, but then again, this is a concept album, so maybe I’m better off viewing each song as a movement within a greater whole. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do.
Bernardo Devlin “Sala Do Risco” 1/10/97 Live EP Mp3 file (Self Released, 2011)
Okay, I’m breaking my unspoken rule and reviewing something that isn’t a physical release. There really isn’t a reason for making a distinction between the physical and the virtual, other than the fact that I just like to hold the damn things in my hands, and if the apocalypse happens, I’ll still have my hard copies while people who store all of their music on their computers will weep and wail. Also, if I regularly included downloaded music in these monthly batches of reviews, especially if I started including files downloaded from Mp3 blogs, I’d be spending way too much time writing. Not that writing is a bad thing, but there’s this thing called “real life” that gets in the way. Bernardo Devlin is a Portuguese singer, and an ex-member of long running Portuguese experimental act Osso Exotico. Despite having all of the old Osso Exotico releases, I didn’t become aware of Devlin’s post-Osso Exotico work until relatively recently, but lost no time in making up for my lapse. That said, the music Devlin writes now has little in common with the music of Osso Exotico. The comparison that leaps to mind when I hear Devlin is the more recent Scott Walker releases, in particular “Tilt” and “The Drift”. That said, this comparison has more to do with the soulful quality of Devlin’s voice than it has to do with the music itself. Imagine Walker singing in Portuguese, and you’ll have a pretty accurate impression of Devlin’s singing. This 3 song digital live EP was recorded the same year as Devlin’s second album, “Albedo”, and all of the songs are taken from it. That makes me happy, because “Albedo”, is one of my favorite releases by Devlin. The music here is compelling, with Spanish-style guitar work (on Em Parte Alguma Agora Aqui), dissonant passages, almost tribal sounding percussion (on Conexao), and mournful cello (on Lama Gelada). I think I detect hints of vibraphone as well. Yeah, it’s a short release, but since all has been quiet in the Devlin camp since his 2008 release (the more electronics-based “Agio”), I’ll happily listen to this. For a mere 2 euros, you can too.
It’s not quite Winter Solstice yet, but that doesn’t take away from my enjoyment of this CD. It comes packaged in the usual elaborate Aranos fashion – folded paper, hand printed artwork and all. It’s really easy to spot where all of the Aranos CDs are on my CD rack. They’re the ones that jut out and stick up above the others. As for the music here, this is Aranos in his longform mode, being an hour long track of violin fuckery , rainstick flipping, and some interesting embellishments. The gritty textures and sometimes ominous violin meld together to create a well-balanced work, and one that seems born of the natural world in all of its chaotic glory. There is even a keyboard (I think) segment that sounds almost prog rock. Despite the disparate elements and playful, improvised feel of this, the music is strangely relaxing, and I’ve been leaving it in the CD changer at night, although once I was awakened by what sounded like sprinklers splashing against the outside wall of my apartment, only realizing it was the CD after I was more fully awake. Even when I’m not asleep, I find this music dreamlike. It awakens my imagination and transports me elsewhere. Because of this, I hesitate to analyze these sounds in too much detail, for fear that it might diminish the magic. Let it suffice to say that this is one of my favorite Aranos releases to date, although that said, it’s kind of difficult to compare this to his more song-oriented works. Apples and oranges, you know…
This is an eBay find that I picked up for a very reasonable price. In fact, I think I was the only bidder. I like it when that happens. It came up for auction at the same time as a trio of Natural Snow Buildings releases, so despite the fact that this is out of print and features an exclusive Natural Snow Buildings track, the bidding war was fought over the other items. Since I’ve managed to find downloads of the Natural Snow Buildings releases in question, their track on this release was the only one I didn’t possess in any form, so I was happy to procure this. The disc is enclosed in a folded, colorful tissue paper cover, with a one page insert detailing the bands and song titles. The four bands on here are Phosphene, Xochipilli, Shy City, and of course Natural Snow Buildings. The Phosphene track, Diamond Fields & Sollte Whales, is nearly 11 minutes of tones that sound like they were produced using metal bowls (perhaps Tibetan singing bowls) and cymbals, with various pipings, tootings and synthesizer noises gently layered on top, plus a dirty bass riff that appears shortly before the halfway mark. It’s the kind of music that is either relaxing or irritating, depending on one’s mood. I find it quiet hypnotic when I listen to it with headphones. It’s like the soundtrack to a dream, following its own internal logic. The Xochipilli track, Altinun Cuevos, is more abrasive, sounding to me what an old factory would sound like if it could scream. The piece builds nicely, with howling drone slowly being embellished with interesting textures and a tension-building undertone. If the Phosphene piece is the soundtrack for a dream, this one is the soundtrack for a mechanical nightmare. Shy City, featuring Tom Carter, contributes a more playful track. Rope Ladder to the Moon sounds like an improv session involving various stringed instruments. The violin is the focal point (for me, at least), but other instrumental skitterings, tappings, and pluckings rise and fall like a strange tide. Natural Snow Buildings end the disc with Undeads Are Everywhere, which melds Morricone-esque dissonance with chiming beauty, and spaced-out psych guitar that builds into a nearly overwhelming squall as the song progresses. Both members of the duo are credited with voices, and there does seem to be some vocal howling in amongst the rising electronic terror of the guitars, although it sounds so inhuman that it’s hard to tell. Solange and Mehdi both play guitar, while Mehdi also contributes bell and tambourine. This isn’t as hypnotic as Natural Snow Buildings at their best, but it’s an appealing ride nonetheless. It reminds me a bit of some of the songs on the “Lady of Darkness” cassette box set, although in much more abbreviated form, of course. Overall, this disc is a nice little collection of left field, psych noise, and improv sounds.
Tom Waits “Bad As Me” Limited Edition Deluxe (Anti, 2011)
Seven years is a long time to wait between studio albums. Sure, in that long stretch of time since 2004’s “Real Gone”, we’ve been treated to a live album and a triple disc compilation of rarities, but those weren’t bona fide new releases. Now the wait is finally over. I had to get the deluxe edition because it had three extra songs, and it makes me wonder why they even pressed up the non-deluxe edition. It’s like releasing an edited-for -TV version of a movie. Who wants the version with the bits missing? The main disc is just a hair shy of 45 minutes, with the songs ranging from short and raucous, like disc opener Chicago and the title track, to slightly longer and quieter songs, like the crepuscular shuffle of Talking At the Same Time, the hushed, haunted Face To the Highway. Waits turns up the gruff romance on a song or two, expecially on Kiss Me, which wouldn’t sound too out of place on one of his seventies albums. His voice is a bit more gravelly now than it was during the seventies, but he hasn’t added any more gravel since his last album. I think the next step would have been to start adding actual rocks. Overall, the feel of this album is more akin to his eighties material, in particular, “Bone Machine”. In amongst the large cast of musicians who play on this recording, I notice that Keith Richards plays guitar on some of the songs. I’m not a big Stones fan, but some people out there might care. Of the more in-your-face songs, at the moment I’m a big fan of Hell Broke Luce, with its surreal, almost stream-of-consciousness lyrics, perfect vocal delivery, and the pure, crackling energy of the music. The lyrics on this release aren’t too far removed from the lyrics on previous releases. Sometimes I get the feeling that Waits writes these without even trying. They just leak from his fingers and burst from his mouth. I once had a conversation with another lyricist/vocalist who stated that he didn’t like Tom Waits because Waits obviously doesn’t live the kind of life he sings about (at least not these days), so therefore his lyrics weren’t coming from the heart. That may be so, but I prefer to look at these lyrics as the work of a gifted storyteller. If I want something with more depth and personal meaning, there are a number of other artists I can turn to, but when I want this type of mixture of inventive, hard-edged mixture of blues and rock, nobody really does it better than Tom Waits. As for the bonus disc, it’s slightly less than 10 minutes in length, with three short songs, the best of which, in my opinion, is the disc closer, After You Die, which wouldn’t have sounded too out ofplace on “Black Rider”. I have a feeling that this album is still growing on me though. The problem with getting so many releases in the course of a month is that it really takes longer than a month for them all to sink in. The deluxe edition also features all of the lyrics and a bunch of accompanying photos in hardback book format. Nice.
The listening party:
Cowboy Junkies “Sing In My Meadow” (Latent Recordings, 2011)
This is part 3 of the 4 part “Nomads” series, following the Vic Chesnutt cover album “Demons”, which I reviewed earlier this year. The band describes this as an “acid blues” album, which is a pretty apt description. There has always been a bluesy feel to their music, and the songs on here are no exception to that rule. Compared to their other releases though, this one has a more freeform feel, with a really crunchy guitar sound and lots of interplay between songwriter/guitarist Michael Timmons and “musical guest” Jeff Bird, who plays some mean harmonica and electric mandolin. The guitar sound reminds me of the sound the band achieved on “Open”, but with even more bite. At times, it actually reminds me a bit of Bevis Frond. I seem to remember that one of the band’s site updates mentioned that the feel of this album was intended to be more like the improv elements of their live shows. To my mind, they’ve succeeded wonderfully. What hasn’t changed is singer Margo Timmins’ soulful, instantly-recognizable voice, languidly meandering through the songs and serving as a beautiful counterpoint to the album’s acidic guitar tone. I have to admit that I haven’t been able to give this enough listens for the songs to really sink in, but early favorites are It’s Heavy Down Here, Late Night Radio, and especially the beautiful, driving final track, I Move On. So far, none of the songs stand out as being among the band’s very best, but that may change with repeated listens.
Birds of Passage & Leonardo Rosado “Dear and Unfamiliar” (Denovali, 2011)
The voice of Alicia Merz, aka Birds of Passage, is like that moment of stillness before the wind begins to blow, or like a half-remembered dream. It seems to be reaching my ears from a great distance, or from a long time ago, softly cutting to the center of my being, whispering through walls of flesh and unerringly navigating pulsing rivers of blood. It causes quiet to bloom inside me. Here, she collaborates with electronic musician Leonardo Rosado, who supplies a bed of quiet pulses, washes of ambience, and gentle, chiming melody. Together, Rosado and Merz create music that is hazy, dreamlike, and ghostly. These songs demand solitude. For full effect, find somewhere to be alone while listening, preferably a vantage point with an uninterrupted view of the horizon. If this can’t be done, 3:00 AM and headphones does the trick too. I think I prefer the first Birds of Passage release, “Without the World”, but this one is nearly as good. Get them both.
In the company of my brother and some other friends, I once went on a self-guided tour of Whitechapel, visiting many sites made infamous by Jack the Ripper. We finished the day by attending Gunther Von Hagens’ Body Worlds exhibit, thinking that the two activities fit together thematically, the first being a tour of places where people had suddenly become corpses, and the second being a walk through a building where a great number of corpses were preserved and displayed, often quite bizarrely, with missing bits, strange hats, and such (okay, I might be misremembering the part about the hats, but that was the general tone of some of the displays). The first part of the day masqueraded as a history tour, and the second as a science tour, but both of course played to the public’s fascination with drama and death. At some point that week, we visited Andrew King too (consider this an admission of the fact that this review might be slightly biased). So for me, this CD is like a window into my recent past, but for most other people, it only provides a window into the dark days of 1888, when Jack the Ripper was out and about, doing his “work”. This disc, featuring music composed and performed by Les Sentiers Conflictuels, and Andrew King reading the texts of letters purportedly sent to Scotland Yard by Jack the Ripper himself, is dramatic interpretation of the ravings of a disturbed man. The music reminds me a bit of some of the old Cold Meat Industry bands, with echoes of the quieter works of the likes of In Slaughter Natives resounding throughout. Grim, in other words, with an emphasis on period appropriate sounds such as tolling bells, clattering cutlery, horse-drawn carriages, ghostly calliope music, footsteps across cobblestone streets, and all manner of demonic whisperings and cacklings. The aforementioned sounds are buoyed up by sludgy rivers of foreboding drones, flowing like cold molasses through the lost rivers of London. The scene is set by the ominous piano and malevolent whisperings of The Night, and then we’re off on a tortured journey through a series of events that still live on in the public’s imagination more than 100 years afterwards. For some reason, I had been expecting a more straightforward reading of the letters, with the music taking a more background role. Instead, King’s effects-laden voice appears less constantly than expected, seemingly dredged up from the icy pit of history. He growls and crows his way through the letters very effectively, reminding me most of his collaboration with Tony Wakeford on the Triple Tree “Ghosts” album. Here, the demon is real though, not figments of the fertile imagination of M.R. James like the specters that populated that release. This isn’t easy listening or background music, but rather something that demands attention from the listener. Sit down, light some candles, and let the past pull you in. While listening to this and thinking about deviant behavior, I was reminded of a sociology class I took in college, called The Sociology of Nonconformist Behavior. I was bitterly disappointed to discover that the class ended up being about alcoholics and other types of drug abusers. I think it covered suicide as well. The professor proceeded to make the class completely uninteresting, which given the name of the class, I would have thought was impossible. He also breathed so loudly that one time when he called me, I thought it was one of those weird heavy-breather crank calls. As for the class, think how much more interesting it would be if sociology students got to study discs like this one. Not only could they delve into the minds of people like Jack the Ripper, but into the minds of people who enjoy listening to CDs like this one. What is it that draws so many of us to this type of grimness? I have my own theories of course, but this is a mere review, so I will not expound on them here. Let it suffice to say that if you, like me, find yourself fascinated by (either in a sociological sense or for pure titillation) the dramatization of the grime that oozes between the cracks in modern societies, this is a fine CD for you to spin.
The mailbox bequeathed this to me on All Hallows Eve, making this the last album I received in the month of October, and giving me yet one more review to write. I’ve long been a follower of Portuguese experimental band, Osso Exotico, of which Maranha is a founding member, not to mention Maranha’s own consistently high quality solo offerings, so of course I had to add this record to my collection. The overall feel of the packaging and music is one of mysterious nocturnal activity. The cover is black, with only the title and artists’ names peering out from the center of a vast expanse of darkness. The music, performed live on Hammond organ (Maranha) and drums & percussion (Ferrandini) often mimics the furtive scutterings of small, nocturnal animals. The organ flutters and breathes like a moth, or perhaps a small bat, and the percussion adds a compelling late-night jazziness to the sound. I imagine a duo of caffeine-addled jazz musicians playing into the night on a small stage in a bar where the audience members have all either passed out or gone home. Somewhere nearby, a neon sign flickers and buzzes, and in the distance, sirens rise and fall. Compared to Maranha’s other recent releases, this is less like his solo outings, “Antarctica”, and “Marches Of The New World”, and more like the work he has done as part of the free improvisation ensemble, Curia, and while I think I appreciate better the single-minded forcefulness of the aforementioned solo works, this release does help scratch a different kind of musical itch, so it is more than welcome in my collection. This is the first time I’ve heard Ferrandini, so I can’t compare this to his other work. As is the case with many recent vinyl releases, the record comes with a download card for the turntable-challenged.
Loretta Lynch and Joe Rut at the Freight & Salvage, Berkeley, CA, 11/4/11
It has been almost three years since I last saw Loretta Lynch. That show was at Slim’s, way back in January of 2009, and this show was at the new Freight & Salvage. That show was at a typical rock club, and this show was at a coffee house – the kind that sells coffee the simple way, with no steamed milk or chocolate syrup or anything else. In other words, this gig was a completely different experience from the last time and I got to enjoy it while drinking black coffee. The snickerdoodles were quite good too.
It was also the CD release party for the new Lynch disc, “Home Fires”, and it was both filmed and simulcast over the internet so the good folks in Mongolia and elsewhere could groove along.
Ex lynch member Joe Rut started things off with some nice country tunes. Not having seen him before, I was expecting a solo set, but he had a band which included bass, drums, and some really nice slide guitar work. I especially enjoyed the song about post mortem possession dispersal. By the end of his set, four fifths of Loretta Lynch had joined the band on stage, with drummer Nathan Moy being the only absentee, and they even dusted off a “lost” Loretta Lynch tune that had once been rehearsed, but never previously played out.
Loretta Lynch hit the stage with the opening song from “Home Fires”, the beautiful, Val Esway-penned Someone You Used to Know, a post-breakup song that for some reason sounds like it takes place in the desert. It has that Southwest sort of vibe. From there, they proceeded to play every song from the CD., which in addition to the songs written by the band, features I Wanna Be Sedated by The Ramones (they played that one the last time I saw them too), What Can I Say by J. Spampinato of Yo La Tengo (I wasn’t previously familiar with this one), and Stanley Jones’ iconic Ghost Riders In the Sky (I’d always thought The Outlaws had written this – shows how much I know). The three singers, Ari Fellows-Mannion (ex Hoarhound), Val Esway (ex Ramona the Pest), and Heather Davison (ex Hanes Family) harmonize well together, although their voices are quite different. I mention their previous bands because the fact that I liked all three of them is what introduced me to the music of Loretta Lynch in the first place, but at one point Val mentioned that Loretta Lynch has now been around for almost 10 years, which means it’s probably about time to stop mentioning various members’ previous bands. It also makes me feel old. Heather also played washboard, which despite the wonderful sound at the Freight & Salvage, was sometimes difficult to hear. Val mostly played bass, and Ari mostly played acoustic guitar, although she broke out the mandolin for a song or two. Guitarist Dan Olmstead supplied the electric guitar sounds, laying down some nice tremolo-laced leads. He does a good guitar face too. Drummer Nathan Moy supplied some fine rhythms, although due to our location, he was always hidden from view, directly behind Val, so I’m not sure if he sported a drum face or not. The band was joined on stage at times by Joe Rut and accordionist Melanie DeGiovanni. After playing “Home Fires” in its entirety, the band took a short break before returning to play a set of older material, ending with an encore of an Elvis Presley song (Suspicious Minds, if I remember right – or more properly, if Jeanine remembers right because I’m sadly not familiar enough with Elvis’ songs to be anything close to an authority). Throughout, the band impressed with their perky country melodies and lyrics that are sometimes dark, sometimes smutty, and often sweetly hilarious. This was some much-needed feel good music for me. I must mention that I feel a bit out of my depth when reviewing country music, because I don’t listen to a lot of other bands or artists from this particular genre. It makes it hard to make informed comparisons. Due to the fact that the whole thing was filmed, I have a feeling that all or most of this particular concert will soon appear online somewhere. Make your own comparisons.
Here's a YouTube clip from a show Loretta Lynch performed back in 2007 as part of Berkeley venue The Starry Plough's annual Murder Ballads festival. I used to see all of singers' original bands perform there once upon a time. This clip was originally uploaded by staggeringsiren. Credit where credit is due, and all of that...
For me, it has been one of those surreal, tough weeks, the kind of week a person can have no more than twice in a lifetime. Some people turn to alcohol and other recreational drugs in such times. Some turn to loved ones. Some turn to music. I choose the latter two every time. In this case, even after hours of driving in the parking lot conditions of rainy afternoon rush hour, I still found the energy to do the additional driving required to reach the venue in the drizzly darkness of benighted Felton, home of the now vacant Waldron mansion and just the right amount of Redwood trees.
Jeanine and I got there before the band did, and found the venue mostly deserted. A few people hovered around the fringes of the main room, but as I figured, a rainy Thursday night in a sleepy mountain town isn’t likely to be the setting for a packed gig. We passed the time by having a quiet little dinner.
Nils and Dawn, the core duo of Faun Fables, eventually showed up, after having dealt with a lot of the same traffic woes I had faced earlier. There was no opening act, so in due course, they began their set, beginning with a series of new, autobiographical songs written by Dawn, interwoven with a couple of related older songs from “Family Album”, namely A Mother and a Piano, and Preview. This got me thinking about what a gift these songs will prove to be for the pair’s young children – a family history in song form. At this point in my life, I am more aware than ever that family history, like everything else, eventually fades into obscurity if not sufficiently documented. The historians won’t be around forever. How great would it be to simply listen to songs, adding to them over the years, and perhaps convincing each succeeding generation to add their own songs to an ever growing personal discography? Some of the new Faun Fables songs are still in their infancy, with Dawn having to reference lyrics and lots of unspoken communication flashing between the pair. The small audience responded enthusiastically. There were 11 or 12 people attendance, a fact which, when added to the music stands holding lyrics, at times made the show seem more like an intimate rehearsal. Dawn mentioned that she has only gotten to about age 15 in this song cycle, so I imagine that soon there will be new chapters added.
Hollow in the Home, live in Madison, Wisconsin, 10/9/10, uploaded by Johnnyyen909:
After a short break, they came back with a more seasoned batch of songs, including a pair of songs based on the legend of the Pied Piper, a traditional song called Captain Coulston (with a melody that sounded so familiar to me that I later asked Nils about it – it was long ago performed by Steeleye Span, being in fact the first song by them that Nils had heard), Housekeeper and Hollow in the Home from “Light in the Vaster Dark”, an as yet unrecorded song written by Nils called Invitation, and a couple of others. They were all great, but I especially loved Invitation, which like Bells for Ura from “Light in the Vaster Dark”, was written in preparation for the birth of the couple’s second child. The imagery and intention of the song struck me as being perfect, but then again I’m always a sucker for songs inspired by the natural world. For most of the second set, Dawn switched to percussion (floor tom and metal cylinder). As usual, her voice was powerful and emotive, and Nils’ performance on guitar, bass, and flute was both playful and perfect.
Invitation, from the same gig as the first clip:
Once upon a time, I would see Faun Fables perform multiple times in the space of a year. Watching these YouTube videos, I'm amazed that a song that they were performing a year ago is new to me. Either I've got to pay more attention or they have to play more local gigs.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot the song about a Swedish werewolf, which was written for an upcoming Swedish compilation CD accompanying a book about werewolves. I forgot to ask about the specifics, but I’m betting it will be published by the Swedish label, Malort Forlag, who has already published one such CD to accompany their reprint of “Le Diable Amoureux” (The Devil In Love), a 1772 occult novel by Jacques Cazotte.
They’re playing tonight at the New Parish in Oakland, with Little Teeth and Foxtails Brigade, plus Bleeding Knees Club from Australia. Go.
It’s true. I have a feeling I’ve seen at least one gig at Amnesia in the past, but I could be mistaken. It might have been some other tiny bar around the corner somewhere. Amnesia is one of those red-lit little bars that I’ve passed countless times. The music can be heard from the street, but I’m usually making a beeline for some other venue, dodging the Friday night hipsters and bar hoppers who populate any major thoroughfare on any given weekend.
As for Arborea, who hail from the far away state of Maine, I’ve been listening to them for a couple of years now. I even went so far as to send some money their way via Kickstarter so they could raise money for the recording of their newest release, the phenomenal “Red Planet”. They’re a husband and wife duo, with Buck Curran playing acoustic and electric guitar and Shanti Curran singing, as well as playing banjo, dulcimer, pump organ, kalimba, and ukulele.
The club was loud, with people raising their voices in order to be heard over the canned music, and I was wondering if Arborea, being the opening band, would have to contend with people rudely conversing during their set.
I've included photos for illustration purposes only. One day soon, I hope to have a camera that will provide me with a little more clarity. There are some nice photos from the Amnesia show on Arborea's site (follow the link near the top of the page).
It turns out that, for the most part, I needn’t have worried about the audience noise. Shanti introduced the first song by saying that it was going to be a quiet one, partially because she was still soundchecking and partially because she wanted to make people feel self-conscious for talking. She said it in a joking manner, but it was very effective in getting people to shut up. I think the first song was called Starburst. The word “star” was in there, at least. As a hush fell over the small crowd, Shanti sang in her high, delicate voice and accompanied herself on a kalimba,
Buck joined her on stage for the duration of the set. The duo concentrated on songs from their newest release, the aforementioned “Red Planet”. They’d even propped up a vinyl copy towards the front of the stage. It’s nice to see bands bringing heavy boxes of vinyl on tour in an age when some touring artists have taken to just bringing along download cards of their releases. Shanti’s beautiful vocals and delicately plucked accompaniment formed a spidery sonic frame over which Buck provided a warm blanket of psych guitar. The pair was perfectly balanced, with the gentle, melancholy waves of soul-satisfying guitar sound providing just the right counterpoint to the delicate sounds of Shanti’s instruments. Many of the songs dealt either directly or indirectly with the seasons, especially Autumn and Winter. We were treated to Careless Love, Song For Obol, and the traditional song Black Is The Colour from “Red Planet”, and a few others whose names escape me at the moment. I’m happy to report that the live versions of these songs are every bit as captivating as the studio versions. This is music that demands silence, and for the most part, the crowd cooperated, although an annoying conversation started up behind us during the final song. I guess some people have no class. Of course, that’s a given when you’re in a bar, where the amount of class a person has is inversely proportional to the amount of alcohol in his or her bloodstream. During the final song, they were joined on stage by a friend, who played pump organ, although it was barely audible (perhaps because of the aforementioned conversation).
Arborea performing Arms & Horses:
We decided to head home after Arborea’s set, missing sets by The Beehavers and Magic Leaves. I had checked both bands out online, and had come away somewhat ambivalent about their music, so the need for sleep won out over any curiosity about what the other bands sets might have been like.
Here's a video for Careless Love:
Arborea has a pretty heavy presence on YouTube, so if you like these videos, click over and watch more.
Here’s a short live set they played on WFMU some time back. Download away!
It has been a week since I wrote this post, but I haven't had a chance to actually publish it until now, because on the day that the gig took place, and totally unbeknownst to me at the time, my dad was admitted to the emergency room with a broken hip and complications resulting from the lung cancer that he's had for nearly a year now. I'm still not entirely sure why I didn't find out about his hospital admission until after the weekend was over, but that's the way life works sometimes, I guess. At any rate, things don't look good, and his future is now most likely numbered in months. Years before this site existed, and indeed years before I'd hear about a new thing called the internet, it was my dad who took me to my first and second concerts, so I guess he was an early enabler in what has become a lifelong live music obsession. That first concert was back in 1980 (for years I remembered it as 1979) at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, featuring Ted Nugent and the Scorpions. My dad actually liked the Scorpions. In fact, I think they were the only band I listened to that he admitted liking. He didn't care for Ted Nugent. Of course, I no longer like Nugent either, especially since he's a bit of a right wing nut these days. I can still remember my dad not wanting me to push towards the front because he was afraid that I (and my friend Steve) would get trampled. The second concert, and the final one he took me to, was Van Halen. He fell asleep.
You've got to admire a man who can fall asleep during a Van Halen concert.
Enslaved, Alcest, and Junius at Slim’s, San Francisco, 10/13/11
Months ago, when this tour was first announced, I was excited to see that Swedish band Ghost was on the bill, so I quickly snapped up tickets. I’ve never paid much attention to the Norwegian band, Enslaved, even though they’ve now been around for 20 years. The French band, Alcest, seemed interesting although, again, they’ve more or less stayed beneath my radar. Then the news came: Ghost had canceled their tour due to problems with obtaining visas in time. I had never previously heard of the replacement band, Junius, but a quick online listen revealed some promising sounds. Long story short: despite the absence of the one band that had inspired me to buy tickets, we went to the show anyway.
Being a Thursday night, the show started on time at 7:30, meaning that Junius were already on stage when we got there at around 7:40. They were incredibly heavy, but in a post-rock sort of way, with the vocalist sounding a bit like the singer from Katatonia. They had the same effortless heaviness as Katatonia as well, with huge slabs of sound slowly shifting under the melancholy vocals. Occasionally the singer would punctuate a line with a raw shriek, upping the intensity a bit, and lending a bit of a Neurosis vibe to the music. I could hear echoes of Constellation bands like Godspeed You Black Emperor in their slowly building songs as well, and while this is becoming a rather common comparison point these days, I still found myself quite enjoying the rest of their short set. In fact, I bought a CD, which as of this writing, I haven’t yet had a chance to listen to. I wonder if their singer has an evil twin or talking boil growing out of his neck though, because he performed the entire set wearing a hoodie (and always wears it, if a quick search of the internet is anything to go by).
The tagline for Prophecy Productions, Alcest’s current label, is “eerie-emotional music”, which more or less describes the sound that the French band strives for. I was expecting more black metal rasping from the vocalist, but other than on the last track, he sang in a barely audible “clean” voice. The band was cursed with the worst sound of the evening too, which didn’t really help their cause, and I often found my mind wandering during their set. I guess their music could be labeled “post black metal”, with some black metal elements remaining, like the guitar sound and the vocals on the final song. The songs themselves featured many quiet interludes and slow, heavy parts, but for some reason it fell flat for me, which is odd because I usually like bands like this. Maybe they need a few more years under their belts.
While Alcest didn’t live up to my expectations, Enslaved definitely surpassed them. Their music has been variously described as black metal, thrash metal, and Viking metal, and I was happy to say that for me, they managed to transcend the limitations of these genre labels. First of all, they quickly proved to be the seasoned professionals one would expect from a band just entering its third decade of existence. Add to that a large dose of charisma, the fact that they were obviously having a blast, and some memorable songs and you have the formula for a great gig. The sound was better too, although on a couple of occasions I did see the keyboard player making some frantic gestures in the direction of the sound guy. The guitar tone wasn’t what I’d call heavy, owing more to the savagery of early speed metal or NWOBHM than to the more recent crop of downtuned dirge bands (that said, some of the riffs themselves were quite heavy). In fact, at times I thought I could detect a seventies rock influence, most obviously during the encore when they played an intense version of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song. Vocalist/bassplayer Grutle Kjellson had a convincing snarl of a voice, and some humorous stage banter littered with bad jokes, while keyboardist/vocalist Herbrand Larsen provided the more restrained, melodic vocals. The two vocal styles worked well together, making the songs more interesting. There were a number of memorable riffs too, even though this was the first time I’d heard any of the songs. At one point, Kjellson mentioned the existence of a free download EP, which I wasted no time finding and downloading when I got home. I’ll be picking up some of their CDs too. The set appeared to be divided between new material and “old stuff”. Most of the second half of the set was dominated by the older material, including a song from the band’s first demo. The audience reaction was quite ecstatic, with more headbanging than pit activity. I think I heard the guy behind me say that he’d flown out from Texas for the show. That’s dedication.
Here's a 2008 video for their song, The Watcher:
Due our vantage point towards the rear of the club and the predominance of red and blue stage lights, none of the photos I took were worthwhile. I was going to include some anyway, but my computer has decided to hide them from me, which is probably for the best.
On the way back to the car, we visited the always dependable crepe truck located across the street from the venue. Like the show, the crepes were damn good.
Two out of three isn’t bad. Especially when one considers that I had no real interest in any of these bands before attending this gig.
Christine Shields, Ruby Howl, Ryder Cooley, and Declan de Barra at The Lost Door, San Francisco, 10/8/11
During the latter half of the nineties and into the first years of the 21st century, I spent a lot of time at small venues like the Starry Plough, soaking up the sounds of the thriving underground indie/folk/unusual North and East Bay music scene. Most of those bands have run their course now – bands like Mumble & Peg, Ramona the Pest, Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, Downriver, and many others. Some of the musicians moved out of the area, and a few, like Faun Fables, still exist and play locally from time to time. As of late, I’ve mostly found myself in larger, more rock oriented venues. I think I’ve seen more punk and heavy metal shows over the last couple of years than any time since high school, and while that type of music feeds my soul in its own peculiar way, something has been missing. After all, I haven’t subsisted on a restricted diet of heavy metal and punk since I was in high school, and I was beginning to feel a bit musically malnourished, at least as far as live music is concerned.
Given this, I was excited to learn about this gig. I’ve liked Ruby Howl for around a year or two, and I’ve liked Howl member Patrick Kadyk’s previous band, Hazy Loper, for much longer, but had never seen either band live. Ryder Cooley was once a member of local band Downriver, but now resides on the other side of the continent, and I don’t think she has performed out west in quite some time. The other names on the bill were unfamiliar to me, but I figured that, unlike most opening bands at heavy metal shows, they’d at least be interesting. I’d never heard of the venue before, and figured it would be some sort of warehouse space.
After adventures involving traffic jams, shopping at Aquarius, and a hastily eaten meal, Greg and I got on Cesar Chavez St. and headed towards the bay. The venue, The Lost Door, was way out on Illinois St., so close to the bay that if we’d driven any farther, we would have found ourselves submerged. The area seemed mostly devoted to industrial and shipping pursuits, and if it were depicted on an ancient map, it would most likely be somewhere near the ominous warning stating “here there be dragons”. As it turned out, there were no dragons, only a pair of cats, one large and black, and one small and gray. The gray one deigned to be petted, but the black one vanished into catland.
We spotted the venue by the rising flames coming from out in front. Fortunately, the flames came from a portable fire pit placed in the street in front of the venue’s open roll-up door, and not from the building itself.
After we’d parked, we could hear music, and arriving outside the venue, we were drawn in by the sounds of Irish singer (currently living in L.A.) Declan de Barra. The man soon proved to have one of the purest voices I’ve heard in a long time, high and powerful like an avenging angel. He accompanied himself on the acoustic guitar, singing mostly folk-based songs. Now that I’ve had a chance to listen to the CD I bought, I can say that the majority of the songs were from “A Fire to Scare the Sun”. At one point, I had a feeling of déjà vu while listening to him frantically strum his guitar, and I realized that the music strangely reminded me of Irish metal band, Primordial. So this is what black metal would sound like if it was played on an acoustic guitar. I have a feeling that this similarity is more because Primordial are influenced by Irish folk, and not because de Barra is in any way influenced by black metal. It was an interesting revelation nonetheless. He also proved to have an easygoing nature and a fine sense of humor, making me like him all the more. Toward the end of his set, he pulled out a Shruti Box (a small pump organ) and prefaced the song with a lengthy discourse on bagpipes (a joke played on the Scottish by the Irish, which the Scottish just didn’t get), Uilleann Pipes (he explained that it took 21 years to learn how to play them properly), and finally the Shruti Box (which, he said, took about 21 minutes to learn to play properly). The music itself was beautiful, of course, with De Barra’s powerful voice meshing well with the Shruti Box drone.
Ryder Cooley played next, starting with a backing track, over which she played musical saw and sang. One of the things I’ve always liked about Cooley’s music, both from when she was in Downriver and otherwise, is the feeling of childlike simplicity it conveys. As I listen, I imagine the dusty recesses of an abandoned toy store, full of wooden toys and other forgotten delights. There is a sense of sweet naivety to her music, and her set this evening was no exception. Early on, she announced that all of the songs were about extinct animals, and each song was well illustrated by projections. There were songs about butterflies, ants (if I remember correctly) and a giant species of deer that vanished during the early Holocene epoch. The line about it having an enormous rack drew quite a number of chuckles. As her set progressed, she switched to ukulele, and eventually she was joined by a guitarist. For the song Graveyard Cabaret, she donned a pair of red pumps, goofy glasses, a feather boa, and as if that wasn’t enough, played kazoo. Combined with the projections, this definitely made Cooley’s set the most visually entertaining of the evening. Her section of the merch table was all visual too – a DVD, book, and various cards. She can also be seen in the documentary film, Flood Tide, and be heard as a member of the band, Fall Harbor.
Here are a couple of video clips of Graveyard Cabaret and Deer Gigantus from July of this year:
Ruby Howl, who were the host of this event, played next. They are a four piece band, with a bass player who someone mentioned used to play for Captain Beefheart, sisters Jennifer and Laurie Hall on drums and tenor guitar (both sing as well), and Patrick Kadyk on baritone guitar, banjo, and additional vocals. The guitars were interesting, looking like a strange marriage between a banjo (or ukulele) and an acoustic guitar. I heard it mentioned that Kadyk built them himself. With the aid of some effects pedals, the band got some great sounds from them. The bass provided a throbbing heaviness to the songs, more so than I would have expected, and the full band sound really provided a contrast between Ruby Howl’s set and those of the evening’s other acts. They performed songs from both of their CDs, “The Wind and the Tiger,” and the recently released “Heaven Hides There Too”, and at least a song or two that aren’t on either disc. The last song was really powerful, with a galloping rhythm (which makes sense, because I remember it being called Horses) impelling the audience forward into the unknown. Kadyk sang backing vocals on many of the songs, and took over lead vocals on a song or two, most notably Strange World. I sometimes hear people talking about the concept of having an “old soul”, which I suppose means that a person is wise before his or her time, or has been reincarnated again and again. Kadyk is the proud owner of an “old voice”, pleasingly textured and sounding like it’s echoing forth from long ago Eastern Europe. In fact, there is a sense of Eastern European melody to most of the band’s material, which is one of the reasons I love them. I can’t get enough of this kind of stuff.
I wasn’t previously familiar with the headliner of the evening, Christine Shields, but I was familiar with one of her accompanying musician, Sheila Bosco. We had run into Sheila shortly after we’d arrived, and it somehow slipped her mind to mention that she was actually performing that night. She is primarily a drummer, but for Shields’ set she also sang and played keyboards. There was another percussionist too (a humorous man whose name I forget at the moment) who primarily played hand drums and various bells and chimes, and both he and Sheila took turns behind the drum kit. Shields’ music was more meditative than the previous acts, reminding me a bit of Pantaleimon (in effect if not in execution). She played some beautiful finger-picked music on electric guitar, and after a song or two, I found myself won over. I did find myself getting a bit sleepy though, lulled by the gentle music and the late hour. Looking at the credits to the newest Ruby Howl release, I notice that she is responsible for their album cover, so she is a woman of multiple talents.
Speaking of artwork, a number or artists, including Ryder Cooley, had artwork hanging on the walls of the venue, adding to the attractiveness of our surroundings. Their names are listed on the flyer at the top of the page.
I must say it was quite nice to go to a show and find myself liking all of the acts. It has been awhile since that has happened.
Autumn brings cooler temperatures and clouds, but not all of the discs I’ve recently preordered (I’m still waiting on the new Amebix, to name the most glaring omission from this post). A few new bits of music found their way to my door though, and I’ve hurriedly written about them below.
Whip “Timesbold” EP (Blackbean and Placenta Tape Club, 2000)
Jason Merritt, aka Whip, is a member of the band Timesbold, so the title of this EP might confuse some. That said, the music of Whip and Timesbold is quite similar. The songs here are quiet, with gentle, weathered vocals creating a fog of longing and melancholy over skeletal acoustic guitar which is occasionally embellished by banjo, organ, and violin. I find this release very cinematic, and the pictures that play in my head while listening to it are mostly twilight scenes of the southwest – lonely stoplights swinging in the rising wind, lights blinking on at dusk, and rusty sunsets over shadowed mesas. This is the kind of music that, if listened to with full attention, might very well bring tears to your eyes. Jason Merritt handles most of the vocals, with the exception being the brief Abby’s Song, where the vocals (as well as the writing credits) are attributed to Abagail Todras, whose voice is similar to Merritt’s in overall effect, if not delivery. The final (untitled) song is the longest one, clocking in at slightly more than four and a half minutes, wrapping up this short release with sad melody and subtle violin. The bad news is that this is long out of print, but Discogs.com finally delivered for me, so copies do appear from time to time. I still have 2 more Whip releases to track down before I have all of their releases, and I’ll definitely be happy when I finally get them.
Jason Merritt performing Bone Song with Timesbold:
My friend Devon sent this disc to me because he thought I might like it. He also mentioned that he thought it sounded a bit like the old UK bands Sofa Head and Joyce McKinney Experience. That’s recommendation enough for me right there. Sofa Head and Joyce McKinney Experience both had female vocalists and played highly catchy, energetic punk, and that description definitely fits for Sju Svaraar too, although Sju Svaraar sing in Swedish. This is driving, melodic stuff, the kind of music that I can imagine listening to while mountain climbing or performing other feats of endurance and strength. Since I’m hopelessly monolingual, I can’t comment on the lyrics, but the DIY look to the booklet and the big Circle “A” on the back lead me to believe that the lyrics aren’t too far removed from the usual punk topics. I could be wrong though. With a playing time of less than 22 minutes, I guess this qualifies and a mini album or EP. Short and sweet.
Sju Svaraar playing acoustically at a punk picnic in Sweden:
Following quickly on the heels of Finn’s newest studio release, “Through Stones”, comes this live box set documenting his first trip to Japan. Buying it from the record label was a bit pricey, but that appeared to be the only way to get the limited (to 200) bonus 3” disc, so I frittered away more of my hard earned money to make this mine. It’s important to buy yourself presents sometimes. It’s interesting that the Captain Trip website refers to Finn as an “aloof fork singer” when I’m sure what they meant to say was something along the lines of “elusive folk singer”. I say this because far from being aloof, Finn is quite down to earth, and as far as I know, he doesn’t have any songs about eating utensils. Also, “elusive” is a much better term to use when talking about a man who has a 35 year gap between his first and second albums. He’s not so elusive anymore though, since there was barely a month between the release of his latest studio album and this release. The box comes with two full length CDs featuring recordings of gigs played on the 28th and 29th of January, 2011, the aforementioned 3” CD featuring 5 songs from January 30th, and a DVD featuring a selection of songs from the two full length CDs. There is also a booklet featuring an introduction by Finn, some nice photographs from the gigs, and lyrics (in both Japanese and English) to all of the songs featured on the two main discs. These were solo performances, with just Finn, his voice, and his acoustic guitar, making the songs sound more intimate. The stripped down versions of the songs work quite well, and Finn’s friendly stage banter is quite charming. As for the music itself, there are no big surprises here – all of the songs have previously seen the light of day on Finn’s studio releases, from “Pass the Distance” (1970) through “Rats Laugh Mice Sing” (2009). Despite this, I find myself listening to this over and over again. There is quite a range of material, from the thousand-yard-stare melancholy of songs like Accidental Life and Neutered Air to the rabid frothing of Jerusalem. In between, we’re treated to gentler songs like Loitering’s Allowed and Can’t Write Away (the latter introduced by Finn as a “happy love song”), as well as the more traditional folk sounding The Chauffeur. It’s interesting to note that there are no songs in common between the two full length CDs. Hiawatha, Big White Car, and Rich Girl With No Trousers appear for a second time on the 3” though, leaving Blood & Bone and Where’s Your Master Gone as the only 2 tracks exclusive to the bonus disc. The DVD footage is high quality region-free NTSC, and despite the fact that it’s a recording of a guy in a chair with his acoustic guitar, I enjoyed watching it, both because Finn is quite expressive and because it’s well edited, with different camera angles and close-ups being utilized. I’d recommend this as a good introduction to Finn, but can’t because of the price (buying anything from Japan seems to cost an unreasonable amount these days). It’s definitely something that completists are going to want to snap up though, because this is beautiful, thoughtful music, and these songs definitely take the listener on a journey through many different emotions without ever sounding trite or forced. This is real music for real people.
Here's Simon Finn, with Joolie Wood and Baby Dee, performing The Courtyard:
Comus “East of Sweden – live at the Melloboat Festival 2008” (Dirter, 2011)
Comus, like Simon Finn, was first introduced to me through David Tibet/Current 93. Current 93 covered the Comus song, Diana, on their “Horse” album, which was originally released back in 1990 as part of a box set with Sol Invictus and Nurse With Wound, and it was a harrowing song indeed (although I discovered later that the Current 93 version is quite different from the Comus one, with only the frantic, sawing violin melody from the center of the song remaining, underpinning David Tibet’s snarling delivery). It wasn’t until much later that I finally got a copy of the first Comus album, “First Utterance” (1971), and finally heard the original version of Diana, along with the rest of the songs that made up that long ago utterance. The rabid ferocity of the Roger Wootton’s vocals and dark lyrics coupled with the mournful violin of Colin Pearson, angelic vocals of Bobbie Watson, and the frantic bongo playing of Glenn Goring, not to mention the beautiful acoustic guitars and flute, made for a compelling album, one that is considered a classic by many. Whatever alchemy was involved in the creation of the first album seemed to have dissipated by the time the second one was recorded, and the band subsequently vanished. Fast forward to 2008, and we find the reformed band (with all but one of the original members on board), playing their first concert in over 30 years at Sweden’s Melloboat Festival. This concert was released on DVD in 2009, and finally on LP and CD this year. I put off getting it for a few months only because I already have the DVD, but being me, I couldn’t put off buying the CD for too long. At first, the new live versions of the songs take a little getting used to, but only because I’ve had the original studio versions traveling through my head for nearly 15 years now. Wootton’s voice is a little rougher now, but after a few listens I ceased to notice this. Bobbie Watson’s voice sounds just as angelic as it did back in the seventies though. The recording quality is crystal clear too, with all of the instruments sounding like they’re being played in the room with the listener. I especially love the warm sound of the violin. From the sound of it, in both the music and stage banter, the band had a marvelous time during this performance. When one considers that it’s the first time they’d performed since 1972, they sound excellent, almost like the intervening 36 (!) years hadn’t gone by. This is great news for those of us who were toddlers and preschoolers back then, not to mention the legions of new Comus fans yet to be conceived. I did manage to see a Comus performance last year, but I had to fly to London to do it. It was well worth the effort. There have been rumblings about some possible U.S. dates in the future though. Unlike the show I saw, during which new songs were played, all of the songs performed here are from “First Utterance”, with the exception of Velvet Underground’s oft-covered Venus In Furs, which is apparently a song the band often played during their initial run. The Comus version, with its swirling violin and tambourine percussion, is quite lovely. The only song from “First Utterance” that wasn’t performed here is The Bite (if one doesn’t count the 30 second companion piece, Bitten). The CD opens and closes with Song To Comus, leaving me to believe that The Bite wasn’t rehearsed for this show. I’ve been playing this over and over for the last few weeks, and haven’t tired of it yet. The disc booklet comes with nice photographs, lyrics, and a short essay explaining the band’s reformation.
Here's Song To Comus from the Melloboat Festival:
Here's Current 93 performing Diana at the HMV Forum in London:
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