OBSESSIVE SALT

BILL ORCUTT - "How The Thing Sings" LP (Editions Mego).

2011-11-25T07:36:00.006-07:00

From the first moments of "How The Thing Sings", the excitement that has been at a steady rumble since Bill's return to music has it's on-going existence validated once again. "No True Vine" is only one minute long, and the percussive aspect of his rather harsh style of fret dancing, is churning beneath the true sound of his guitar, like he's got someone scattering a free jazz underbelly to fill a space that he has already occupied himself. It's an adequate opener, in the sense that you pay attention and know that in the worst case scenario, you are being graced by another collection of Bill's work.

...though by the time you are a couple of minutes into the second song, "The Visible Bosom", it is apparent that he has allowed his momentum to be even more abstract than the playing on his output from the past few years would have one already assume it to be on any subsequent relase.

Sure, the same general approach is here - Orcutt's extremely stylistic manner of maneuvering (and tuning) which was once an overblown and violent component of Harry Pussy's sound clear back in the 90's, though seemingly accelerated and channeled through acoustic guitar instead. This alone has been such a rewarding act, as while many who obsess on Harry Pussy's work under the false assumption that it was just a wall of punk / noise, when returning to many of those old records, sure - the drumming was an animal-like onslaught that was an explosion if anything, but the guitar playing was often incredibly intricate in this strange technical and jazz-like sort of way. Adris's vocals were insane, sure, but it was the guitar work that really had sealed the deal with me.

But that is then, and "How The Thing Sings" is now, organic and raw: it's wide open,... no counting off, no other members to keep in synch with, no "songs" in the sense of having to start and stop and certainly no expectation of keeping a steady pace,... all of these restrictions and limitations are tossed out the windows, and Bill allows himself to do this thing, completely uninhibited.

And so the scattered clusters of what are often interpreted as mangled break-neck blues can sputter out in whatever forms they may, intricate and usually remarkably beautiful patterns that are so complex yet blunt. Stop them if he wants, moan along in conjunction with their expected courses of travel, stop, rip the most detuned of all strings away from the body - letting it smack back against it as many times in a row as feels necessary, calm and peaceful yet tense for a moment (and more often than not on the Side B), agitated and jagged the next, is it that he is so fulfilled by the act of crafting these blindly built pieces that he is almost laughing?

That catharsis is familiar, and can even be experienced by the listener - if they are willing. In fact, the enjoyment I receive from listening through this feels almost voyeuristic, as though this is a window into a part of Bill, and that he can not help but to let his instrument expose and leach and spastically map out his neurological activity in real time.

And yet for being such a wild and adventurous record, in a way, Orcutt's new LP is also perhaps his most accessible, the sort of thing that has the rare ability to allow strangers from all sorts of back grounds to connect with it, though one can only assume by chance: maintaining it's inert organic qualities and function as an outlet, above any concerns or expectations of approval. Though of course, how could something so incredible not be loved by many?

GILGONGO MIX #81504

2011-11-10T21:55:00.001-07:00

GILGONGO MIX #81504 // 11/10/11
http://www.gilgongorecords.com/sounds/GGGR-MIX-11-10-11.mp3

MIDNITE SNAXXX - "Jackie" (s/t 7" on Total Punk).
U.V. POP - "Just A Game" (s/t 7" reissue on Sacred Bones).
NY LOOSE - "Detonator" ("Rip Me Up" 7" on Hollywood).
MEN'S RECOVERY PROJECT - "Explanation oh Head Troubles" ("Frank Talks About Humans" 2 x 7" on Vermiform).
DOO RAG - "Grease & All" ("Hussy Bowler" 7" on Westworld).
HARRY PUSSY - "Chuck" ("Radiation Nation / Toxic Drunks - split" 7")
THE EAT - "Communist Radio" (live 7" on Last Laugh).
VAPID - "Do The Earthquake" (s/t 7" on Nominal)
MOCKET - "Monitress" ("Pro Formula" LP on Kill Rock Stars).
QUINTRON - "Place Unknown" ("Are You Ready For An Organ Solo?" LP on Three One G).
QUINTRON - "Mud Bugs" ("Are You Ready For An Organ Solo?" LP on Three One G).

MV CARBON - "Dislodged Perihelion" LP (Ecstatic Peace)

2011-11-07T09:36:00.004-07:00

It's an absolute treat to be consumed by this thing from start to finish, over and over. And yet on the fifth listen, I still can't say for sure if it comes and goes in twenty minutes or forty. If not for the saving grace of the turntable's arm in relation to it's proximity from either the inner or outer most playable part of the record, all reference to the real world, let alone time, would be lost. At least it would be voluntarily given up in this case.

Because: who wants to participate in the mess that is reality when there is such a beautiful and ideal alternative? Gone are the rules of law and the stressful complications of money, and more so: time. These are sacrificed at the first reasonable opportunity to do so, in lieu of the notion of holding on.

In their place: the altered states that are conjured by MV Carbon, an intoxicating and hypnotic series of suites that are equally as menacing as they are are soothing. Whether or not the electronics are low and pulsing drones or a jagged razor's edge cutting through the tape while swirling through her gurgling orchestration,... whether the underbelly is a simple antiquated drum machine that drags itself across the concrete to do her bidding or an eerie repetition on cello, who's organic sound is almost unexpected in the mix,... the collages' most direct likeness to distortion is in their relation to time.

This amalgamation of primordial industrial sound and the most left-field of what one might consider to be minimal electronic music would be perfect enough as is, and yet in the end the most captivating aspect of these pieces is MV Carbon's voice - ricocheted and swirling on her command. ...a childlike pout ambulances the somehow simultaneously sultry recollections of situations she allows only a squinted eye's observation of. ...and yet these hushed diatribes are addictive in their tone and the effect is overwhelming. Two minutes in, and you've come to terms that when the record has ended, there would be no hesitation in listening to her stuttered a capella for however long she mandates.

Of course, given the complete abandon already experienced alongside the duration of the LP itself, who knows how long you will be laying there on the floor. It's a commitment, sure, but at least it's an easy one to make.

FOUR EYES - "Towards The End Of Cosmic Loneliness" 7" (Puzzle Pieces)

2011-09-16T21:29:00.005-07:00

Pop punk has always been one of those genres that gets me all nervous and on edge, qualifiers needed from the get-go, "you know, like this but not like that", etc. Trying to have a conversation about ska with someone that knows nothing about you (or your record collection) is pretty much the same corner that you can only let yourself get backed into when you're at your most comfortable.

And so that being said, the circumstances that allow me to really enjoy pop punk are obviously quite specific. Dillinger Four's "Vs God", Discount's "Half Fiction" (and if you could even count it, "Crash Diagnostic"), Bouncing Souls' "Maniacal Laughter", the right Fifteen or Jawbreaker record, the first Alkaline Trio LP or any of what The Broadways did, all of which point towards a specific era and vibe - I believe. etc etc etc.

So maybe this is what draws me to this 7" so much, the fact that Four Eyes' "Towards The End Of Cosmic Loneliness": It's poppy without being slick, more concerned with conveying a bit of legitimate thought and emotion without also delivering crisp octave chords, awfully polished harmonies at the chorus. Blessed with an overall quality that is rough and raw, but without being culled from the practice tapes that the drummer's cat pee'd on at some point and were captured on the little boombox with one speaker and the Lagwagon sticker on it. In all actuality, while Dinosaur Jr comparisons have been tossed around a lot: I hear more of a straight forward version of early Archers of Loaf, or perhaps for the sake of being more modern, Meneguar.

Opening with "Back to Life", a great, driving, two minute memory lane that brings me to mid/late 90's shows in central NJ... followed by"Pilgrim", a sleeper-hit that keeps the head-nodding at bay until the 37 second mark when the riffing starts and the pace truly kicks into gear. Absolutely my favorite of the four tracks, the one that ends up on every hypothetical mix-tape.

"Carol Stream" is an overblown (and surely unintentional homage to) Braid, half of the concern with sounding smooth and at double-time. "SOS" closes quite deceptively: remarkably slower than the other tracks, I felt like it was almost adhering to the details of some forgotten formula: "end it with an instrumental slow jam". Sarcasm aside, though without examples coming to mind, it's a sequences that I feel accustomed to - albeit, possibly with false memories or my own personal recollections clouding over the facts. ...all of that being said, the guitars carry this one, and despite the addictive vocal melodies sliding in halfway through, the general vibe - it follows this mysterious nonsense mandate that I am trying to conjure and apply.

This is the debut release on Brooklyn's Puzzle Pieces Records, who offer the single as a free download: http://www.mediafire.com/?r1ksec1v2t0b19k That being said, it's available to purchase directly after you listen to it, and love it, here: http://puzzlepiecesrecords.wordpress.com/

LETTERA 22 - "True Form" LP (A Dear Girl Called Wendy)

2011-09-11T16:30:00.006-07:00

For months, "True Form" as sat in the cubby that is just below my record player. Typically, this is the holding area for things that are new. That is to say, records that have recently entered my home - whether they are recently released or forty years old, take up temporary residence. Most move on quickly, filed away with the rest of them, but some may occupy this area for months on end. And, there are various reasons why that might be the case, most of which I assume are pretty much obvious. ...in the case of Lettera 22's LP: I had wanted to say something about it, and just hadn't been able to sort out exactly what that was.

It's become a bit of a "go to" for me, satisfying the desire for a very specific strain of "noise", as while this is undoubtedly harsh throughout most of it's duration, writing it off as a wall of sound would be a shame. It's an incredibly intricate and crisp onslaught from start to finish: thick and unknown sources are completely overblown while the most specific dose of feedback periodically slices through, field recordings of metallic clatter are nestled between the mechanical sputter and stop-and-go of the device itself while "industrial" is stripped back down to it's most raw form, the primal nature in which some moments present themselves are, if not anything, "human" and even more so persuasive than percussive.

So it goes, this is a living and breathing entity that is simultaneously bleak and amorphous while also so violently sharp and textured, yet the two co-exist in a relationship that is captivating and organic rather than just proving to embody contrast and juxtaposition. That makes for an intriguing experience on each listen, of which there has been perhaps 20 of or so, and even now that it's been given it's space here, "True Form" will continue to stay where it has been in this room. It's got at least another few plays coming up in the next several weeks.

Note: Only 200 copies of this masterpiece! It's very fitting that this duo from Italy have an upcoming split 12" with Sickness. It's on the way from Phage tapes and surely worth keeping an eye out for. ...as are some on-deck 7"s on Wendy, from Sissy Spacek and Mammal.

INCOMING 05/30/11

2011-05-30T22:19:00.005-07:00

The first in a series of mixes which are in regards to incoming items to the Gilgongo Records domain. This time around, recent 7"s.

download here: http://www.gilgongorecords.com/giveawaypile/mix05-30-11.mp3

VIVIAN GIRLS - "Death" ("Moped Girls" 7" on FOR US)

MAN OR... ASTRO-MAN? - "King of the Monsters" ("Welcome to the Space Age" 7" on Clawfist

THE 5.6.7.8's - "Sho-Jo-Ji" (blue series 7" on Third Man).

LAMPS - "The Role of the Dogcatcher..." (7" on Fan Death)

RAYOS X - "Vigilancia" ("Suvrimiento" 7" on Damaged Noise).

FOUR EYES - "Pilgrim" ("Towards the End of Cosmic Loneliness" 7" on Puzzle Pieces).

NEON BLUD - "Neon Nites" (split 7" with Diet Cokeheads on West Palm Beotch / Lower ME Into My Coffin).

LITTLE CLAW - "Feeding You" (7" on Siltbreeze).

PAIN JERK + JOHN WIESE - "The River Styx" ("Vague Maze" 7" on A Dear Girl Called Wendy).

DIRTY BEACHES - "Sweet 17" (7" on Zoo Music)

THE TRAGICS - "Laughing Lover" ("Mommi I'm a Misfit" 7" on LBPR).

CRIATURAS - "Aranas en el Corazon" (7" on Lengua Armada).

WEIRD TV - "Sex" (7" on Perennial)

THE WAITRESSES - "Clones" ("In Short Stack" 7" on Clone).

SQRM - "White Rabbit" ("White Saints" 7" on Abscess)

THE SLITS - "In The Beginning" (split 7" w/ The Pop Group on Rough Trade).

WAX IDOLS - "All Too Human" (7" on Hozac).

VIVIAN GIRLS - "Death" ("Moped Girls" 7" on FOR US)

Vivian Girls had fallen off my radar at some point, I'm not sure why. Although an early adopter, clear back to the s/t LP's first run on Mauled by Tigers, and clear through an onslaught of really good singles, somewhere around the second LP the connection just faded. John Quintos recently remedied this by playing their recent 3rd LP, which although not something entirely different, felt fresh and struck much a chord in the inner part of my brain that has a casual affair with 60's girl groups and pop, but of which their newer sound has more directly veered to. I enjoyed it enough to stock it in my distro (Polyvinyl is not a regular in the Gilgongo boxes, I might add), and "Moped Girls" was in my queue. Easily found on Vivalavinyl, where my personal message was accidentally sent out as a new thread. I had 6 people offer me their copy in the matter of a day, but stuck with the original intended recipient of my message, who was kind enough to offer a trade.

MAN OR... ASTRO-MAN? - "King of the Monsters" ("Welcome to the Space Age" 7" (Clawfist)

I'm not under the disillusion that I own ever single Man or Astroman record, but it's got to be close at this point. At least 20 of those things sit grouped together in the M box, and yet every now and then, a previously unseen 7" shows up, this time at the second Nile Record Fair, where Ryan (Garage Shock, Thundercats, Wipers, Eastside Records, ET CETERA) had several of these, set up caddy-corner to Mike Genz, with his King of the Monsters label and distro, ironically enough.

THE 5.6.7.8's - "Sho-Jo-Ji" (blue series 7" on Third Man Records).

Happily picked this up locally at Revolver Records, much unlike the recent LP reissue that Jack White has been nice enough to toss out there, yet can not seem to make it's way into a record store in Arizona. Two great songs, nothing short of what anyone would come to expect from this group. Recently wrote about their live LP that Third Man also released, check that out here: http://obsessivesalt.blogspot.com/2011/05/5678s-third-man-live-10-22-2010-lp.html

LAMPS - "The Role of the Dogcatcher..." (7" on Fan Death)

Also picked up at the last Nile Record fair, from long time unknown peer turned recent "this guy's so great, can't believe it took us 11 years to actually meet each other", TK. Not sure why I didn't already own this, as I'm a reasonable fan of this label. Who knows, sometimes things just slip between the cracks.

RAYOS X - "Vigilancia" ("Suvrimiento" 7" on Damaged Noise).

Follow up to their incredible single on Lengua Armada, which I didn't dig as much, but still thought was good. I'd love to catch this band live. Mail-ordered this from the label that put it out, Damaged Noise, who also have a small but excellent distro - worth checking out!

FOUR EYES - "Pilgrim" ("Towards the End of Cosmic Loneliness" 7" on Puzzle Pieces).

Great new 7" (think 90's college rock ala Archers of Loaf, Dinosaur JR, or from more recent times, Meneguar) on Puzzle Pieces, recent label started by Catherine who used to coordinate the station at WHRB where I've been sending Gilgongo stuff for years. Though we've had the chance to meet (there's actually a photo of us standing next to each other watching Foot Village when I was out there on the second Tent/City tour), we've yet to. Instead, the mailing is now two ways, as we traded some copies of these and another 7" she did for Bad Banana, in exchange for some copies of the Vegetable 7" I did. Check out her label and keep an eye and ear out, she's doing something good.

NEON BLUD - "Neon Nites" (split 7" with Diet Cokeheads on West Palm Beotch / Lower ME Into My Coffin).

Picked up a ton of these for the distro, seeing as the Neon Blud LP was so incredible and I liked the Diet Cokeheads 7" that I grabbed as well. Well done, great sounding track from Neon Blud, less out there and more like Jesus Lizard (in my very humble opinion). Sadly the last recorded output from this line-up, I'm hoping they continue on and keep tossing out more great records. The Diet Cokeheads side of this thing is equally as good, a somewhat similar enough of a vibe that the could be the same group, not at all in any sort of negative context, sorta menacing and eerie.

LITTLE CLAW - "Feeding You" (7" on Siltbreeze).

Also picked this up from someone at the Nile Record Fair, and much like the Lamps 7" on Fan Death, I am not sure why I didn't already own this: I like Little Claw and buy just about every single thing that Siltbreeze puts out, yet this one managed to avoid purchase. Great couple of songs on here, while definitely being "out there".

PAIN JERK + JOHN WIESE - "The River Styx" ("Vague Maze" 7" on A Dear Girl Called Wendy).

John's infinitely complex discography is at times stressful to keep your finger on the pulse of, it's erratic to say the least. Recorded back in 2005 and just now making it's way out on Luca Vinciguerra's label, A Dear Girl Called Wendy, based out of Italy, there's 200 of these floating around at the moment. We traded some stuff for copies of a new Sissy Spacek LP that I did, with a few other things on his end that I am also really excited to hear (a new Altar of Flies 7" + CD, and the Heinz Hopf LP which features sister label, Release the Bat's coordinator, Matthias Andersson).

DIRTY BEACHES - "Sweet 17" (7" on Zoo Music)

Only recently found out about this guy, who apparently has a good deal of hype at the moment. Without any context, I can only speak my own mind, and that's that his output is legit and he deserves whatever credit he is getting. Only even caught on due to a split with US Girls (which I wrote about here: http://obsessivesalt.blogspot.com/2011/03/us-girls-dirty-beaches-split-7-sibling.html). These tracks keep a similar feel, lethargic beach pop, not murky yet still addictive, moody and dark like Suicide. I think that "Sweet 17" might be on his LP, but that's currently ten feet away, safely filed away, so it'll remain a mystery for the moment. Picked this up from my friend Jes, who was in the process of selling off his records. I didn't both looking at this before throwing it on, so please excuse the sound of a fuzz ball that gets caught in the needle about three quarters of the way through. I'd just rerecord the track, but honestly, I was hoping it would stay caught in there for the entire remainder. ...you can't always get what you want though.

THE TRAGICS - "Laughing Lover" ("Mommi I'm a Misfit" 7" on LBPR).

John Quintos and I dropped something like $300 total at a recent show at Sound Kontrol, an unhealthy action for sure, but it was just one of those nights. The bands had great distros and someone had a huge box of their personal collection to toss away as well. This was one of many blind purchases from that night, as Deskonocidos seemed to have a grip on a subsect of modern punk that we were both oblivious to. Based on short descriptions alone, this was one of several successful ones, the Nuclear Family LP on Loud Punk would be another. A reissue from 1981, the Tragics tossed out female fronted punk along the lines of The Avengers and X-Ray Spex (specifically in the vocals). Four songs on the 7" and they are all great. Nicely done reissue, and it looks like it's pretty easy to find - pick it up!

CRIATURAS - "Aranas en el Corazon" (7" on Lengua Armada).

Grabbed from the same night, these guys were on tour (and share members) with Deskonocidos, great fast punk somewhere along the lines of Dirt but somewhat metal-influenced like early Sacrilege. Both bands' sets were incredible.

WEIRD TV - "Sex" (7" on Perennial)

Another great punk unit to pass through Sound Kontrol, also being female fronted and Spanish oriented, was Olympia's Weird TV, who few of us had heard, but all knew were going to be great. Not only has that town been 100% with it's deliveries to Phoenix, but with a 7" on Perennial, you could have carved your opinions in stone before they ever started playing).

THE ORPHANS - "Moscow Massage" (7" on Kapow).

Found this for a couple bucks at local shop Revolver Records, no more than 10 minutes after ranting on how excited I was to hear this singer's new band (Neighborhood Brats, which features one Ms. Jasmine Watson, who I am very much a fan of). Moody punk from a band that was consistently solid. Should note that while I am not typically interested in color vinyl splatter jobs, I must say that this one is neat, clear but with a translucent green looking like it slowly oozed into the press. Have to admit that it looks pretty cool.

THE WAITRESSES - "Clones" ("In Short Stack" 7" on Clone).

Picked this up for practically free. Assumed it was an early 7" by avant-new wave band of the same name, and was apparently right (according to the internet), though this is radically different from the slightly-off-the-beaten-path which is horribly under-traveled aside from "I Know What Boys Like". Instead, this is more like something to expect from The Residents or Cabaret Voltaire, robotic and truly bizarre.

SQRM - "White Rabbit" ("White Saints" 7" on Abscess).

Perhaps the most absurd cover of this I've ever heard, oddball enough that after getting through "White Stain" and "White Socks" on the A-side, I didn't automatically assume this was going to be the Jefferson Airplane song, but sure enough it is, in SQRM's lethargic, Flipper like delivery as I suppose one would expect. Got a couple of these for the distro after picking up their LP on Youth Attack, which had cover and insert art that far out does the absurdity portrayed here!

THE SLITS - "In The Beginning" (split 7" w/ The Pop Group on Rough Trade).

Perhaps a sad statement of the economic instability of modern day, the tale of price tags on this read: 19.99 pounds, $15, and then the one which was typed out on the internet only, $5 USD. Part of a group of five records there were on my never-ending want list, grabbed for fractions of what they should, far outweighing the negative aspect of shipping from the UK. Absolutely bizarre, but who am I to question?

WAX IDOLS - "All Too Human" (7" on Hozac).

Nothing much to note on this one, somewhat standard fare from the Hozac camp, catchy powerpop with a garage feel, cranked out by Heather Fedewa, a name which I am not familiar with offhand, but now know to keep an eye out for, as the two songs on here were a welcome introduction.

THE 5.6.7.8's - "Third Man Live 10-22-2010" LP (Third Man)

2011-05-01T07:14:00.004-07:00

One of those bands that always prompts one of the more unattractive qualities of human beings, "bragging". ...but it's not so much the spouting off of information which is of relevance to a narrow margin of society that is really intended, more so: it's really great to see people succeed with their art.

That being said, The 5.6.7.8's (an all girl Japanese garage band who have been active since the early nineties) have been far within the parameters of my peripheral vision for as long as I can remember. From an early age, I obsessed on most things on Crypt, Estrus and Sympathy for the Record Industry, and related (Teengenerate, The Rip-Offs, New Bomb Turks, The Mummies, etc). Mid-90's, early teens in central New Jersey, this was not at all the ideal music for me to want to see. There were plenty of places to catch punk and hardcore shows, but virtually 100% of the garage sort, took place at bars.

Nonetheless, seeing them in Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill 10 years later, and then hearing their cover of the 50's song "Woo Hoo" in countless commercials and even sung by the developmentally disabled individuals at the workshop that I supervise, it's somewhat exhilarating on on small level. That song was on a 10" that Sympathy put out in like 1996!

An even more surprising burst into mainstream media was The White Stripe's zero-to-sixty maneuver in the early 2000's. Some singles and a couple LPs on Sympathy, and then all of a sudden "Seven Nation Army" was all over the radio and they were getting a Grammy for it.

In recent years, Jack White has been busy releasing a surprisingly diverse and left-field series of records on his label, Third Man. The style and aesthetics are smart, to say the least. Simple photo of an artist or band in front of a blue back ground as the cover for countless singles, it makes anyone male or female, young or old, strangely attractive and enticing. It helps that they're all good in their own right too, but the man absolutely knows what he is doing.

The flip side of this is the stripped down, no frills approach of a new batch of live LPs (an on-going project with recordings from shows outside Jack's space in Nashville, including Tyvek, No Bunny, Davilia 666 and a handful more so far and upcoming). I didn't even know that there was a 5.6.7.8's one on deck, so this was a nice surprise.

Something about the lack of sensationalism is really appealing. Simple plain black die-cut jacket so you can only see what it even is by reading the center label, and a recording that is veering more towards realistic and raw than not. This works well for the 5.6.7.8's, because it allows their energy to come through rather than having it lost somewhere in the process. If this were any more sterile, it would be bad.

Instead, it's just about as perfect as it could be. Yes, they are just slightly off at times, the mix is not always perfect, there may even be a short spurt of feedback here and there. Perhaps a small point of concern to some, this somehow seems to legitimize it more for me, and really just adds to the feeling that these girls were having a blast and just going with it (like I assume they would any time that they play).

To be fair, I could do with out the lounge-like closer of the A-side, "Three Cool Chicks", but that's just because it, and the country/twang-friendly "Charumera Sobaya" which opens the flip, are a break in the flow of the rest of the record. In all actuality, "Three Cool Chicks" would be at home on one of the three Serge Mendes & Brasil 66 LPs that I listened to mid-afternoon, yesterday, but that's neither here nor there.

Besides, it's hard to complain about song selection when there are so many old ones on here, pleasantly surprising me to say the least: "Bomb The Twist", "The Barracuda", "I Walk Like Jayne Mansfield", for etc - these have been listened to so many times before that they feel more like standards than anything else, and a new perspective, an excellent live document which is dished out through the feeding tube of someone else who has enjoyed the rare situation of success without compromise, is very much welcome.

In Short: 04/16/11

2011-04-16T11:59:00.011-07:00

HORSEBLADDER - "Nicole" cassette (Night People).

Excellent vocal-based sound work from Elaine Kahn. With just a slight range of feel from the innocent and child-like cooing (and cathedral reverberation) of Married in Berdichev's slightly earlier work, to more moody and unapologetically apathetic vibes that conjure a well behaved Lydia Lunch, and hints of a new-age obsession that works out only to her benefit (maybe in a Cocteau Twins type situation), the focus is always on the delivery of her vocals, swaying over a blanket of swirling loops, be it her own voice, rhythmic and metallic clatter or an underbelly of soft synth.

M.MAGIC - "I Am Good" cassette (self-released).

Tossed my way from Marisa herself, who was filling in as No Babies' vocalist during a short stint which led them to YOBS, and a great show w/ Soft Shoulder and Vegetable. Simple vocal / guitar (and/or bass) pieces, which I believe should be used as starters. Haunting and sufficiently sultry melodies which could easily be the skeletal structure for something that might be like anything from Mazzy Star to Interpol to hard-industrial stuff. There's a huge part of me that wants to toss down another 6 or 7 tracks on top of this cassette, and then send it back to her to see what she thinks, but then again, that part of me is currently in a domestic dispute with the other part, the one who has barely enough time to eat or sleep, for example. Priorities, however, can always change.

NEONATES - s/t cassette (Effeminate).
3 quick ones and a remix from this great LA trio playing an excellent breed of simple post-punk via riot grrrl, ala Delta 5 with the spunk of Liliput. The winner here is both takes of "Place in Space", which is wonderful enough on it's first go-round, it being the track that gets remix treatment, a short blast of accelerated and primitive funk. This band ought to have an LP or two by now. This isn't a "keep your eyes pealed", because I know they don't, but someone with a brain should be offering, quickly.

U.S. GIRLS / DIRTY BEACHES - split 7" (Sibling Sex)

2011-03-14T20:31:00.019-07:00

The mysterious M. Remy, infatuation at it's finest. This is nothing new, I was a fan of her band Hustler White, long before I shared any small shred of correspondence, long before "U.S Girls" and long before she dedicated her Springsteen cover, citing me as "groovy", an adjective that throws me for a loop, and from anyone else, would not feel at all that special, but from her, feels legitimate and prompts an embarrassing blush. Luckily, I was sitting in a dark art gallery, and she wasn't looking up at the time. Secrets are safe, and that's quite a relief.

A couple of LPs, a few singles and compilation slots, she has offered generous portions under the U.S. GIRLS moniker, and while some helpings are more instantly satisfying than others, new output is always exciting: "Have to have it", that sort of thing. Each piece is a vehicle for a simple "song", or at least a series of phrases which would be haunting and pleasing on their own, but are allowed to expand and elaborate underneath a shear layer of lo-fi production: simple, sometimes overblown beats, and minimal accompaniment are strewn about - dismal and/or damaged blankets of sound churn, swager, or sway, accordingly.

So: what do you do when there's a new split 7" and the cost is $14ppd? The typical consumer would say "fuck that", and understandably so. In a day and age where 7"s have crept up to $7 and $8 in stores, pushing things to this slightly farther point is disturbing at first glance. However: If you are interested, if you appreciate the work that either she or Dirty Beaches does, then "math" is perhaps the best answer.

200 copies, green vinyl, printed center labels, full color "professorial" sleeves with printing on the inside as well, mastered by Bob Weston. I could break down the cost of each of these things and explain how each copy of this 7" costs about twice as much to make as each copy of the last LP that I put out myself. This is largely due to the extremely limited nature of the record, in combination with such "nice" packaging, treatment normally reserved for records with a run of 1,000 or 500 at least. ...that being said, if my last LP sold for $12ppd, and this single cost twice as much to produce, should it be $24ppd?

That, of course, would be insane. Many might argue that $14ppd is as well, but subtracting the $2.50 or so in shipping and the cost of a new 7"mailer, the cost of the production (per unit) and the fact that this is much reduced after having subtracted the artists' copies from the equation, and as hard as it may be to believe, at $14ppd, I don't even think that it's possible for the label to be breaking even.

My advice? Treat this as what it is: an extremely well done artifact, a document done with care and a disregard for trite financials in favor of a specific vision, even if running parallel with an idea of keeping the quantity of the final product low, for whatever reason. In other words, very much like a lathe release, only in the style of something undeniably "well done", "professional", and so on. ...in a way, this is a tangent, but also quiet imperative if you're on the fence regarding the cost.

Dirty Beaches tosses down two songs of sparse and hushed soul music, detuned without more than a handful of notes to even let fall out of key. "Drunk Driving" is Motown at it's core, though naked and dreary, it's hollowed out and would be well suited in an uncomfortable moment of a David Lynch film. "16 Coaches..." delivers much of the same, hypnotic and strangely diseased, remnants of what would have been "percussion" stagger underneath a barrier of drone which seems to constantly be dropping it's pitch while the vocals flirt with the listener in a Suicide-esque manner.

US Girls chops her side into three movements. "Today" is a quick skeletal trance, Throbbing Gristle comes to mind, mildly disturbing in it's ability to exist as a fairly straight-foward minute of "music" that is also eerie and disjointed. "(Excerpt from Down There)" follows with a Casio-like samba / key-tones and guitar, very much matching the vigor of Peaking Lights' most upbeat material, and prompting the desire (of anyone with a brain) for a 20 minute long version to surface somewhere else soon.

"Mah Marie" is the focal point though, an excellent example of what M Remy has to offer in the context of this project: buried industrial undertones, a few layers of her vocals ricocheting on the surface, "tape noise" slicing across the grooves towards the end and a steady increase of nervous tension throughout the three minutes in which she has you in her grasps.

In the end? This 7" is very much "worth it" if you are already a fan of either, and certainly there will be enough left for the obsessive sort if you yourself are not so inclined. From a personal standpoint (and possibly just the slightest bit biased)? This is an excellent addition to the collective output of US Girls and a pretty favorable introduction to Dirty Beaches, and even if coming home at a bit of a high price - it really is a nice looking record.

MARISA ANDERSON - "The Golden Hour" LP (Mississippi)

2011-02-08T22:31:00.004-07:00

Things just work out sometimes. Was I familiar with Marisa Anderson before hearing about this LP, which at the time, was still a few weeks away from making it's way out into the world? I wasn't, but "Evolutionary Jass Band" is name that doesn't leave the back of the mind, and a when followed by "Tara Jane O'Neil", who I've been known to travel from central Arizona to Southern California to see play for a mere twenty minutes to a room full of under-appreciators, I felt an interest being appropriately prompted.

There's a local shop that does well with getting at least a copy or two of things which are released on Mississippi Records, so I patiently waited for it to pop up there, and sure enough, in time it was spotted, propped up on one of the wall racks, clearly visible from the entrance, across a sea of miscellaneous bins, the A to Zs. I recall telling Jared, who was working that day, how excited I was for it, that I somehow knew I would love it, even with just the smallest of details: that she's just sort of free-forming it, guitar and lap steel, with no vocals or overdubs. Why these facts make it seem like it would be so appealing, is because they themselves are quite appealing traits, ones that, to me, testify to an inherent honesty to what would be offered.

Somehow or another, our conversation was derailed, and it ended with me jogging out to my car, returning with a CDr of Blind Willie McTell's "Atlanta Twelve String". I had every intention of leaving right away (why else jog?), but I decided to stay for the first few songs, which sounded great throughout the store. It should be noted, however, that I don't think there's much of a setting in which "Atlanta Twelve String" would not sound quite wonderful. ...it was four songs in or so when I allowed myself to leave, and picking up Marisa's LP - my eye caught the last song on the A side, "A Dream of Willie McTell".

I've played "The Golden Hour" about 30 times so far, and I'm not sure if I've been able to let it completely soak in. Every single time: it sounds fresh and exciting to me, though in the way that it can keep me calm, it's soothing but without being polished. She plays, very much, like a human being. She plays from the heart, is honest.

Pleasantly raw and devoid of any mile marker, these recordings could have come from any time in the past 70 years, with just the most marginal moments of guitar-based discordance, subdued feedback or drone (most notably on the first track, "Drop Down"), that may let you in on the secret (that this is more on the younger side of things than not). But even at that, I instantly recall on "Atlanta Twelve String", one of the most simplistic and straight forward numbers finds Willie stating "Kick it Six" at the end of a rotation, following it with just a few seconds of this noise, which I'm not even entirely sure how he created on his instrument, but sounds like the sequential plucking down the area where the strings leave the neck, about to be caught by the tuning knobs - an approach which has much more correlation to modern day than anything on "The Golden Hour".

Still though, I am no expert in this area of music, and hardly have the experience one gets when devoting much listening time to the likes of John Fahey or Jack Rose, both of who I know enough about to confirm that other's observations of likeness, are fair ones to be made. Perhaps it's important to throw a dart, a frame of reference is always nice, and it would be a shame for someone who would love this to not even know that they should be going out of their way to check it out.

Regardless: all of that has nothing to do with myself, nor how I feel about these pieces. It feels like a chore to even mention anyone else's name, to be honest. I don't like to do it, I don't want to do it.

I'd rather type on and on and on about how, from one song to the next, Marisa's work here is just downright beautiful examples of communication from someone who has perfected the ability to use her tools to speak. Sure there are indeed no vocals on this record, but it's saying plenty, and listening quite a bit as well - retelling stories to which there are no definitive characters, no plots carved in stone, no guarantees of any happy ending, only that things will be conveyed honestly, with soul, with pieces of the performer intertwined, with the ability to sway you just plenty. This is really something rare, something special, and is not to be taken for granted.

TOTEM MOLD GROWTH - "Verl Splurt" c-92 (905 Tapes)

2011-02-08T15:16:00.009-07:00

A room full of music to choose from, we'll say it's been accrued throughout something around 3/5's of my 28 years of life. That's a long time, plenty of memories to be made and certainly enough to allow general likes to solidify themselves. Why then, is it often so impossible to decide what to listen to? I blame the freedom of choice. If too abundant, it's a hinder more than it's not.

With an ever growing stack of incoming cassettes, and a new replacement deck for dubbing that is begging for an excuse to get plugged in, "a tape" it is, and that narrows it down. 25 or so cases, full of tightly wound sound, stacked neatly, waiting for their turn in the triage area, underneath my record player, far away from their eventual placements in the cassette racks on the wall to their right.

I am sick today, stayed home from work. I don't do this often, only when I really feel horrible, and even then, I force myself to go in if my absence is going to cause too much stress. In the past four days though, things have definitely not been going well for my sinuses, nor my throat. The varieties of mucus that have left my body, if collected and smeared around would make for just the perfect cover art if Totem Mold Growth were needing an alternate.

I wanted something long, so their 92 minute offering seemed just about perfect. No thinking for an hour and a half. I could lay on the floor, stare at the ceiling. I could fall asleep, though maybe only halfway. Cook a meal of some sort, just vegetate, does not matter. I will not pick something else to put on for an hour and a half.

And so the perfect soundtrack for my struggle is realized shortly after pressing play. Repetitive electronic tones, synth-secretions that are unknowingly divorced from the membrane, they are occasionally smooth - wet, oily glops the splatter across the floor. At other times, things chop in and out, around them or maybe through them, it's hard to tell.

Does this bring to mind a series of recordings I had made at age 12 or so? Sure: ones which were childlike, perhaps because I was a child at the time, efforts at controlling an ancient Korg and it's satellite bank, which I understood even less. Horrible sounding alarms that would occasionally be reduced to buzz-saw signals that were perhaps so loud that they began to seem quiet.

Here, these sorts of things are not looked down on. Instead, they are embraced, and allowed to roam amongst each other, colliding at times, peacefully coexisting at others - and every now and then, something even more foreign than these oddball electronics is able to sneak through: sound samples ranging from a damaged folk song, sci-fi chit chat, an occasional percussive section, the theme and first few minutes of an episode of The Facts of Life, folding over (and over, and over) on itself. Crackly noise slices into the contaminated plasma as well, sometimes washing over or fluttering alongside the plethora of gurgling tones and saturated sines.

Supposedly, this is Totem's alternate soundtrack, or I suppose score, to a 1993 movie called Freaked, apparently starring Alex Winter from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. It rang no bells for me either, but a simple internet search can confirm it's existence: "A vain actor, his best friend, and an activist end up at a mutant freak farm run by a weirdo scientist". You'd think that's me talking, somewhat tired and pumped full of prescription medication. The fact of that matter is that it's actually the bio offered by IMDB, which will also inform you that Brooke Sheilds, Morgan Fairchild and Randy Quaid are stuck in there somewhere too.

I planned on making this profound statement about how this cassette is really a perfect score for what's happening inside of me, Cephalxin makes it's way down with some Gatorade, the large red capsules that smell like they are composed of fish guts and dust, breaking down in my stomach and and sifting through fever, cornering disease, engaging in a battle that's seeming to be a bit too evenly matched. Progress is being made, but my symptoms are still present, tissue after tissue, with occasional cough into toilet, as well. "Verl Splurt", if this inner-conflict had audio, would just be perfect.

Unfortunately, after seeing if it's intended influence did in fact exist, I took the next illogical step. With Totem Mold Growth rotting through the speakers, completely aimless and sounding ever so irritated at the start of the B-side, I decided watch the trailer for Freaked.

And so now there is a new plan, a new way to eradicate my condition, a new activity, a new way to break my own rules. Watching a movie, after all, it's not something that I do often, but I myself have been known to make an exception for the overly artistic or unbelievably bad, that latter of which - in case you are wondering, is what would apply here.

As luck would have it, this thing is available to stream with Netflix, and there's another laptop in the other room, username and password are sure to be saved. A good mix will be found, between this tape and the audio from this film, and to cure myself from all that ales me, Freaked will soon be viewed with "Verl Splurt" coinciding. Did Mike Haley ever think this would happen when he packed this up and sent it my way last month? I'd be willing to guess that the answer is no, but that he will be very proud that is has.

MY DISCO - "Little Joy" 2xLP (Temporary Residence).

2011-01-31T21:59:00.010-07:00

In 2011, not much remains from the fragmented and often misunderstood culture surrounding a revival of emotive hardcore which was very much flourishing in the early 2000's. By the time Australia's My Disco flew into the radar, this was all but a thing of most people's past, with the majority of new groups offering insincere and confusing renditions of a flavor that had been turned over far too many times for it to be swallowed by any psuedo-adult who has actually been attending shows since the mid-90's.

This mattered not. They had a mature sound at birth, even when rooted in what would be a fairly undeniable "hardcore" arena, albeit: with much emphasis on their craft, un-assumed time signatures and impressively complex guitar work. Having nabbed up their 10" and subsequent split 7" with Off Minor, it was obvious that My Disco had a much broader audience, so long as people were willing to listen, and when hearing that they were going to be playing a house in Tempe, it was instinctual to call every single person that I knew who liked Shellac, even though the synchronism between those two groups had not at all yet become apparent.

When their first full length finally showed up, it was obvious that they had found a formula that worked for them: simple and repetitive, yet strangely aggressive in it's own way, the Shellac comparison that was premonition only was essentially a prediction that had come true, and when the following LP was recorded by Steve Albini and then mastered by Bob Weston, well, who could really argue with me? To be fair, when listening to either "Cancer" or "Paradise", I tend to think of Gang of Four, forced to slow down to 16rpm, yet commanding attention still, while allowing space to have a prominent role was well, minimalism as an active force, with the sparse moments offered: as passive or jagged as desired at any given moment.

Regardless: It's been a few years since "Paradise", and so I've been eagerly awaiting something new, assuming that there was going to be a few tweaks in their approach, and that finding out what the next slant would be: it would be an exciting task and an interesting listen.

"Little Joy" is fantastic.

Absent are the prominent bass lines, the ones which can't help but conjure "dancy post punk" from the fingers of any random person trying to type out a few paragraphs. Absent are the obvious sounds of the human voice, while it's still typical to be handed off a series of repeated phrases rather than a song's worth of lyrics, often they are spoken or found flowing throw the music instead of receiving "protest" treatment. Absent is their previous form of aggression: it has been digested, and calmly processed, settled and returned solemnly.

Strangely dark, almost eerie, even at it's more upbeat moments, "Little Joy" has the same depressive qualities that make New Order's "Movement" one of my favorite records: an ability to be addictive and in it's own special sort of way, still very much music that a room full of people could sway to without feeling odd about doing so. (The qualities that make this more akin to a classic 4AD or Factory Records release are plentiful and profound - it's captivating and feels honest, while still leans towards the outer most fringe level of music one could dance to).

However, sticking to aspects of their previous work, My Disco takes this sound and allows it to canvas several inches of each side of an LP at a time. For example: the second track, "You" - it can truly be observed as a "song" in it's first fifth or so only, the vast majority of it's ten minute duration is dedicated to a simple rhythm that slowly evolves, percussion (over perfectly muted, insatiable notes) is allowed to spread it's wings for just moments before the entire exercise is called off. It's mesmerizing and beautiful.

...and besides: "There is always time", as "Rivers" points out later on.

Quite honesty, while it's perhaps a bit difficult to talk about what this band is doing without running the risk of making their work sound redundant or even boring, in all actuality, it's incredibly accessible and has it's doors appropriately open towards any listener's ear. I feel like there is no situation where their music would not be fitting, at least on some level. I can only hope that individuals are willing to give "Little Joy" the room which it needs to fully sprawl, so that it can be enjoyed and allowed to work it's way through the thoughts and moods of any given day, and granted permission to soundtrack the replay: laying down, back to the carpeted floor, perhaps on a long drive between San Luis Obispo and Long Beach, alone and with much on the mind, or maybe, if fate would have it: once again in a crowded, smelly, living room, in Tempe, AZ.

ERASE ERATTA - "Damaged" 7" (Kill Rock Stars)

2010-12-01T00:37:00.003-07:00

Very clearly, I remember the first time I saw Erase Errata, when they came through Arizona around the release of "Other Animals", their debut full length. They were quirky and genius, a perfect blend of deadpan and sass, seemingly sort of fragmented, but intentionally so, and actually much more compelling and driving than anything I had seen in awhile of that vein, and that LP, as well as it's follow-up "At Crystal Palace", have probably been played 200+ times each here, over the years.

Also very clearly, I remember the second time I saw them. Not at all as an enjoyable of a night, it was Election Day 2004, and I found myself in San Diego seeing them play with Q and Not U and Ted Leo. Aside from George W. Bush being re-elected amidst what should have been a really special night, things were just strange and tense: the show took place on campus, and there was some conflict between the employees at the venue and the people doing sound from the Casbah, ultimately resulting in a horrible sounding Q and Not U set, and nearly a physical altercation when they approached staff about it after making due the best they could throughout their set. It was really upsetting, honestly.

Perhaps equally as distressing, was Erase Errata's set, which felt jumbled and disjointed, and not in the way that typically makes them so wonderful. They had been trying out a new line-up, actually with a guy taking over on vocals. If memory serves me correctly, he quit the week before the string of shows they were playing down the coast, and so they went on without him and did as best they could, which was admirable, but difficult to see, constantly making you want something to feel right, and feeling frustrated in the end, much like they themselves seemed. I could be wrong about this, it's just what others were explaining at the time. Maybe he had quit earlier, and this was just a bit of a rough night, independent of any recent events. The play by play re-election of George W. Bush, peering over the crowd from television sets out of the bar area to the left of the main room, wasn't really much motivation for anyone there to feel good in general. Perhaps that was partially to blame, I don't know.

Several months later, they came through Phoenix again, and it was just as magical as the previous time they were here. They had figured out how to make things work as a three piece, were on deck to release their 3rd LP the following year or so, "Night Life", and: they intersected with The Get Hustle, who I felt like I was seeing for the 40th glorious time, and The Hospitals, who's 10 minute set of completely wrecked garage was outstanding. Such words might seem like sarcasm, but when I think back, "magical" and "outstanding" seem to be just perfect, even if a bit silly.

That was a long time ago already, four or five years.

What I think is most interesting about, and what might make me so fond of this new 7", is that is sounds like what would have been the result of four more years of progression, a process of maturity which, in a way, would have mostly started with "Night Life". It seems like there would be countless missing links between that and this, and it leaves room for the imagination to wonder what those would have sounded like.

On "Damaged", gone is the bulk of the atonal abrasiveness, replaced with more of a flowing and lush sort of sound to the guitar, leaving the bass, historically my favorite aspect of Erase Errata, a bit more washed over than I would prefer. That's not to say you can't hear it, I think I am always just expecting it to be more prominent than not, and am surprised when it's anything but. Jenny's vocals are smooth and sedate, but not bored and lacking passion. Using more terminology that I hear to, "cool" seems to be accurate. It's not until 2/3s through that things become even remotely angular, with precise and inarguable dance-friendly rhythm and gently smashed, (though smashed nonetheless) keyboard.

On the flipside, "Ouija Boarding" thrusts Ellie's bass back as the obvious driving force to things (punchy but melodic and with purpose) and parts the seas for Jenny to navigate via voice in her uniquely genuine way that the casual EE fan already appreciates, the guitar and keys lining the walls until things sort of culminate in a scattered and childlike 80's prog sort of way. That may sound like a bit of a turn-off, so maybe it's best to focus on "scattered" over "80's prog", but regardless, I am just saying what I hear. It's a grown up and more controlled take on a sound that is still inherently Erase Errata, perhaps one that is a bit jaunting for someone that hasn't stayed with them since the first few records, and arguably, even to those were trying to up until the untraceable four year long black hole that these two new tracks have been the salvation from. At the same time, they also sound strangely classic, like something from 30 years ago and forgotten, the way a later UT record might be, but that's just me flaunting what I like, and not providing much to digest. And that's fairly selfish to do, I think.

While not where I would even begin to consider to point someone who's eager to consume the genius of EE, this single might be the perfect place for someone that finds the more left-field material hard to swallow. To be fair, unless they are to be vacuumed back into the abyss, perhaps a new LP is on the way, and this single will be the appetizer that prepares the listener, new or old, for something that will be pleasantly consumed regardless, at least by me. I don't suspect 100% of their fan base to join them on the next leg, but I will.

I must state also, that I was happy to see this was cut and pressed in the states. It seems like lately, all of the larger / mid-sized indie labels have switched over to the GZ / Pirates Press route, which I personally don't go down. This was actually cut by Lucky, who did several 7"s for my own label last year, and is more or less a local to where KRS operates from.

NECRO HIPPIES s/t 12" (Raw Sugar)

2010-11-26T15:34:00.003-07:00

In the narrow confines of the Slurp, one in a long line of warehouse units being utilized as a practice space and a spot for shows to happen in central AZ, I feel alone and alienated in my fascination and familiarity with people coming through from out of town when there is such an direct correlation to my own memories of being a 13 year old child, enamored with punk and a particular feeling and vibe, that of which I can only feel is accurate enough when specifically referring to what was happening in central NJ, in the mid to late 90's.

Such was the case, all the way back in May (it is now late November), when a New Orleans band came through, and everything about them was pointing me to other things that I remember and love, but above all else, there was this feeling that I would really like these people. Not in the sense that we would be friends if living in the same town, but definitely a group of people that I would be happy about sharing space with, and would come out to see play, often.

Perhaps it was mostly their singer and guitarist that drew me in so much, it's hard to say, seeing as it's been half of a year since then, but that's where the most easily remembered feelings come from. He, who sang, and had this specific manor to which he did so, moving across their side of the room while playing, having a good enough of a time while seeming to be accurately conveying whatever it was he was meaning to do, as serious or playful as it may have been.

And she, who I personally felt was the dominant force in the group, seemingly confident but not feeling obligated to play the part, and her riffs quite honestly carrying the majority of their songs though in their most memorable moments, all of which are present on their short but fulfilling 12" on Raw Sugar.

There are narrow confines of what one typically would try to label as a "surf" aesthetic to some of what she is playing, but I personally find that to be inaccurate and more so, misleading. I myself am not sure where that sort of feeling comes from, perhaps the cord progressions, or something else that I know not how to pay attention to, nor have any desire to examine. Regardless: Necro Hippies are playing a style of punk that could have occurred any time in the past 30 years, simply meaning that it is timelessly valid, and speaks to the inner youth that enjoys the periodic feedback intertwined with post-adolescent "immaturity".

And it doesn't do much but help that these songs are so surprisingly catchy, and perhaps to break from stereotypes and embracing the fringe: I'd say the first song is the least memorable for me, with the slower more lethargic and Flipper-like "Love Life" closing the A-side being one that more-so remains on my mind for the rest of the day after listening to it.

That being said, there is a bit of a dreary feeling throughout most of these songs, even when the tone is more upbeat and the pace is picked up quite a bit, but it's a tone that again, reminds me of my own youth, and bands that were playing with their own specific versions of soul, be it a group of straight-edge kids that wanted to embrace their community as a positive outlet, or a group of animal rights oriented stoners, who embodied two ends of my own personal spectrum. And, of course, all of the strange combinations that come between, though as strange as things were when I was young, and as bizarre as they are now, rare is it to find the sober stoner.

But from either end, it's a dreariness that is false. It's the kind that fills the people making it with energy and hope, and inspires the people watching with the same. The kind that prompts incidental protest songs, regardless of their specific lyrical content. The kind that finds you standing in front of their merch table and smiling, looking at the paste-on cover art of a stick-figure kneeling before a tombstone which reads: "have fun" and has a drooping flower on it, while a cloud flings down rain on the character, who despite being simple lines, is emotive enough.

ANT PARADE / BODY ROT - "Sister Syringe" split 7" (Cephia's Treat / Cult Maternal)

2010-11-16T00:07:00.005-07:00

In a perfect world, where I have the nerve and audacity to buy every single product that even remotely relates to my interests, or perhaps in an even more ideal scenario, where they all just show up in my PO Box without me needing to know that they had been given birth to: I would already have loved Body Rot a year before hearing this split 7" when their first two cassettes would have shown up, and been played over and over: for myself, and for a few friends who would undoubtedly leave the tape itself and artwork/shell in two different corners of the room (does Gerald Biggs do that on purpose? I think he likes to test me, and I respect that just fine).

Yes, I put out a Pigeon Religion 7", but contrary to the common assumption, that doesn't mean that I know about every weirdo Cult Ritual / Youth Attack (etc) off-shoot project, even if when you investigate, it's usually worth the time (Slave Scene, Neon Blud, etc). I would have liked to know that Body Rot (a project culling members from not only Cult Ritual, but Slave Scene as well), were so up my alley and that they should have veered into my path much earlier.

Meanwhile: Cephia's Treat is a label that I've always had much respect for, and this 7" continues to impress. CT releases have this universal theme and quality to them, at least through my eyes. Most notably tossing out a ton of classics from The New Flesh, Sword Heaven, 16 Bitch Pile-Up, Byron House and Russian Tsarcasm / Tsarlag, they are always nicely put together in this specific home-made looking way (meaning somehow, you can often guess that it's on CT, or at least won't be surprised when you find out), and there is something that is simultaneously playful /and light-hearted, but also tangible and universally appreciated about virtually all of the bands / artists. I'd like to believe that I am right about that, but people can be strange (and I myself have moments where I would prefer to be taken 100% seriously, no smiling allowed).

Ant Parade (who now performs as No Milk, fyi), is a perfect example of the feeling I have regarding most CT releases. She uses simple methods to create compelling beautiful movements, and while I'd fear that people would solely compare her work to that of U.S. Girls or Grouper, just because she's a she (and singing along with instruments other than a guitar), I do actually think an Inca Ore reference would be fine. I hear a mature bedroom project that slowly creeps more towards Broadcasts' "Tender Buttons", however. Having already been following what she's been up to, I was really happy to hear that the first song I've come across that has made the trek away from CD or cassette, is also my absolute favorite of her's thus far.

Body Rot's contribution is a cacophony of overblown (and often smashed) keyboards, sideways guitars and busy, stop and go drums, instantly reminding me a lot of Death Sentence: Panda!'s early recordings, and similar in energy to No Babies (look them up!) though favorably more stripped down and wrecked sounding than either, the kind of side of a split 7" that (being redundant, here) irritates you that you lack the internet / download savvy that is the norm these days, as again: there's two tapes from these people that I am positive are long gone. The kind of stuff that would be the most fringe on a Kill Rock Stars comp in the 90s, or undoubtedly some Huggy Bear side-project that set up in the alley instead of just jumping on shows. This is as far from Cult Ritual as The Bitters are from Fucked Up (if that makes any sense, which I hope it does - as I really enjoy Bitters but have only ever heard a couple Fucked Up songs here or there). Dare I just also say that this sounds Canadian in general (in the best of ways, I promise)?

Perhaps what is most interesting about this though, is that while listening to the sides back and forth a few times while typing this up, the vast difference between the two didn't really even cross my mind until just now, which I think only goes to attest to the universal appeal that I think applies to the Cephia's Treat camp. Or maybe I just had two opposite ends of my interests pleasantly surprised at the same time. It's anyone's guess, I suppose.

I take that back, perhaps the most interesting thing on here is the laughter that happens twice at the end of the Body Rot side. ...and while I am not the sort to gamble, I am willing to bet that it's Carlos Tsarlag. What is at stake?

AIDS WOLF - "March to the Sea" LP (Skin Graft), "Very Friendly" 12" (Lovepump United)

2010-11-06T13:14:00.006-07:00

"March to the Sea" is an LP that does not deserve to have a lengthy, abstract review written about it, when the content is hollow, and really just an act, an empty shell. Not just because it's enjoyable and valid on every level possible, but because the review that rambles on for several paragraphs is much more further "gone" than the record it's trying to de-legitimize in the process.

Not to say that this is simple music, because that is simply not the case. At the same time, this is not an uncoordinated attack, and it's certainly not "noise", unless the subculture's dictionary has been updated and passed out without me receiving a new copy.

I suppose that I should declare that I am biased when it comes to my thoughts regarding Aids Wolf, shouldn't I? That I've known Chloe for nearly a decade, surely would influence my opinion of her creative work, and should therefore be stated, otherwise I would be deceitful, in some people's opinions, not only dishonest, but a liar.

In most people's cases, I am sure a personal relationship, no matter how small or large, can adjust the fine tuning on the small, delicate black knob which above has a label reading criticism. I'd like to think that I'm above that, and don't find it very hard to convince myself of it. (This is called being "self righteous", or so I am told). The things that I like about Chloe (and Yannick) are synonymous with their art and sound, because I feel like they are intertwined within all of their output. And maybe you don't always see it, or it's just not obvious when the pre-existing knowledge isn't there.

I've participated in the same confusing scene for a long time, where when music and art has become this left-field and out there, the consumer expects and desires you to be as out of control as they translate your music to be. Why not doing drugs (and in their case, being vegan - I myself am just a vegetarian) is often looked at as being a bit of a bummer and a let down, is quite confusing. Maybe it's the "real world" desire to get fucked up with the band? I'd always rather talk, and not about any of that stuff, but I guess that's why there's a minority here that I relate to and feel at ease with. Knowing what gigantic fans of music they themselves are, is also something that adds to what I hear when they play, and knowing that the fanaticism is embraced and worn like a badge here and there, does so all the more.

I've even had to put my abnormally PC self out there and defend their band name within the pages of HeartattaCk, as a letter came in and was going to be printed (and was), criticizing my personal ability to be okay with such a name, this of course coming after a column I had written was printed in the previous issue, in which I mentioned them in the ending paragraphs of things I were excited about at the time. I, of course, had to reply.

These are disclaimers though, and if someone's going to think that I actually would bother writing about something I didn't truly enjoy, just on the basis of liking the people involved, then that's what they will think, and that's fine. I said earlier that I am biased, but that was sarcasm.

And so anyway, two years since the last full length, Aids Wolf have offered a final recording as a four-piece, "March to the Sea", just before venturing across the states with a whole other kind of shiny beast (and I look forward to trying to explain it when new recordings that document it, see the light of day).

Ever present is Yannick's style of drumming, which is a consistent pummel of aggressive movements that could easily fall underneath the umbrella of free jazz at it's finest and most raucous, and yet still functions as a back bone that drives these songs. With the guitars free to stutter through abstract riffs that have more to do with inherent melodies that are just a bit more mangled than not, the end result feels like what a modern Captain Beefheart LP might, and this is only solidified by Chloe's willingness to put her voice out there without relying on screaming or shouting in short bursts. Mature might not come to the casual listener's mind, but to mine it does.

Sure, you could say that there are frequent nods to the more recent past across the A-side (Arab on Radar, Pink and Brown, fine), but going back just a few years earlier, Bill Orcutt's guitar playing in the later Harry Pussy recordings seems like a much more accurate and appropriate comparison. There, as here, is a sound that at first may be a bit too abrasive for most people to bother dissecting with a sterile knife. That is to say, they use the rusty flat blade that was once inside the box cutter used to open packages and cut down cardboard to make 7" mailers, instead of wiping something off in the kitchen.

Forgetting what was waiting on the flip-side was obviously an accident, and was the stereotypical icing on the cake. I already was really happy about this thing, but the cover of Throbbing Gristle's "Very Friendly" that sprawls across the entire side, took it to the next level. Pounding and repetitive and thick, the intensity has been raised quite a bit, and Chloe's vocals sound incredible: maniacal and a bit wrecked (especially half-way through) but still clear enough that you can understand most of the lyrics. And especially in each of the three breaks, there is something playful and twisted and perfect about her meandering just before the song locks back into the groove again. They did a really great job: it sounds like it must have been really fun to record and I am positive TG would approve.

Though I know not of the series of events leading up to it, there's a companion 12" to "March to the Sea", which is five remixes of this cover, by Weasel Walter, John Olson, Jason Forrest, Emeralds and Nautical Almanac: an odd assortment that also seems to make sense to me (and I guess, maybe isn't all that odd).

Weasel's chops up the raw recording and funnels it into an oddball early industrial work that, in a way, is maybe more closer to the way TG might do it themselves (now). Olson's is a chopped apart even more, allowing only slivers to replicate into dreary American Tapes style fodder, her vocals now surfacing like a warbled cassette of one of his home made horns (and/or) synths - and while it's pretty much a complete departure from the song, it's awesome - and maybe just how he hears the original anyway, right?

Jason Forrest has at it and partitions small portions into strategically dropped moments: resulting in a glitchy and ironically melodic version, even more "song" like than in it's unedited form, and with Chloe's voice spiraling in and out of a tin can. Inevitably, it's strewn into dance music, or at least something I would hope a grimey house party after-show could utilize.

Emeralds version finds me pulling the Harry Pussy card again, as I'm reminded of their absurd double LP culled from a few seconds of Adris' vocals (do I own that, yes, and would I ever part ways with it, no). This is not nearly as drastic, not at all, and there is a bit more going on, a psuedo-ambient and robotic sound-scape. The Nautical Almanac track is not at all what I expected: layers of pitch-shifted and auto-tuned vocals atop a muffled and restrained backdrop of the rest of the song, which occasionally jabs through in it's normal form. Quite honestly, I would have assumed any auto-tune would have been coming from Jason, and some more adventurous stuff going on with Nautical Almanac's piece (his stuff is insane, after all) but I suppose you never know.

Maybe it's not mandatory, but I certainly enjoy playing this directly after "March to the Sea" which might I also add: the cover art is absolutely the best and makes me smile every single time I pick it up. I'd try to explain it, but why bother? You can see for yourself.

SHE - "Outta Reach" LP (Causeway).

2010-10-23T11:19:00.005-07:00

She: is making me do something I do not want to do.

Steno pads in the physical realm, notepad.txt files on my laptop, and an infinitely long list that is in my own mental queue, but: sometimes the most anticipated of records can just slip through the cracks where these dimensions meet. Months after reading something Scott Soriano wrote about them, I believe in the warm up stages for getting copies for the distro portion of his excellent label, S-S Records, I added She's "Outta Reach" to to my ramshackle list(s).

This is were I say: much kudos to local shop Revolver Records for actually getting a copy of this for their store, an act which saved me a headache, a little bit of cash and produced this sentence: "Thank fucking god"! (Such profanity really is unnecessary, after all, but unavoidable when you are simultaneously excited and relieved).

Having an unhealthy enjoyment of "Girls in the Garage" style oldies but goodies (and obviously, the compilations which glorify them), which mostly spun off from an obsession with many of the female-oriented garage and power pop bands that were active throughout my earlier years of figuring things out (In other words, mid 90's output from labels like Sympathy for the Record Industry, Crypt, Estrus, etc): there were things about this that I found exciting.

Finding out Thee Headcoatees didn't really write any of their songs, and actually functioned as a Billy Childish unit that he was cultivating but not playing in, was (while an idea that I found interesting), a bit of a disappointment. The polar opposite would be the gained knowledge that She were writing and performing all of their material on their own, during a time where that was in fact not the norm at all: 1964-1971, Sacramento.

And they are incredible. Rough and raw 60's garage, played by five girls who apparently had "real life" attitude that this material apparently / appropriately lined up with, and results in some of the earliest output of riot grrl if you'd like to go that far, which I would. The Shangri-Las, after time-traveling to the future to check out the Frumpies and Huggy Bear, and then returning back to the late 60's, and toning it down a bit so that they didn't give the future away, completely. She could and would work now, and be every bit as valid, though they would be competing with a large peer pool, where their legitimate energy and spunk is replaced by louder amps and reverb.

To be fair I didn't need to hear anything to know that I wanted to get a copy of this, well to be fair, questionable LP. Questionable in that it's very obviously a DIY endeavor that someone who loves and respects them assembled. There's not much information on it at all, and the liner notes and (one would hope for) photos that would wrap this into a perfect piece of history are absent.

Ironically, the end result is a modern looking left-of-center punk record. Not that I would know anything about releasing an LP with art featuring cat heads on human bodies or anything, or wait, is it me that has a Channels 3 and 4 LP slated to come out any day now? I forget. ...but it's also the simple and tasteful approach of photocopy art, glued onto blank jackets that give this an, again, an ironically 2010 DIY feel. This, again, is not entirely a complaint, but I would have really done this differently.

My thoughts are this: if I took on this task, I would have wanted to glorify it as much as possible. I would have wanted every photo of them possible, writings from back then, scans of the lone single that they released: an elaborate package, I suppose. Not just because I would personally like that, but because it would peak others' interest who saw it. Sure: there was a short description sent out when the distributors got these, but it relies on the individual record store to print it out and tape it on if they want it to have an appeal to someone from Phoenix not-named James Fella, who already bought the one copy anyway.

And so despite loving every second of these ten songs, I find that a bit perplexing. I assume that getting the legal rights may have been an issue, but then again, maybe not: only two of these songs were ever actually released (as far as I could tell, anyway). And isn't that a bit perplexing too?

So I got curious, and what I found very easily was nothing that I wanted to see: while She in fact only had one single, they had 17 other songs that were never released back then, but all 19 appear on a legit CD issued by Big Beat Records from the UK. And this leaves me with two questions, one with an answer, one without.

Why did the person who put this out only toss ten of their 19 tracks on here? I really don't know.

There's a nicely done CD that compiles everything, and while I really don't venture into the CD world very often, it's situations such as this that will make me purchase one, even though it feels really alien and kind of silly.In other words, you could ask: is She making me do something that I do not want to? Yes, She is.

THE CYSTS - "The Cyst" 7" (Seizure Palace)

2010-10-11T23:05:00.005-07:00

The Manor experienced it's fair share of memorable moments over the course of it's often chaotic run: a tree falling during a storm and almost splitting it in half, inappropriate party themes, Food Not Bombs leaving piles of partially decayed matter ("vegetables" at one point, apparently), an unexpectedly bloody rendition of "the death of Christ" one Halloween, and pockets of well attended (and occasionally: borderline unsafe) shows.

An all-ages Dillinger Four matinee (as their show had unfortunately landed at a bar), a confusingly creepy half an hour with Francis Harold and the Holograms, Kevin Greenspon giving it 200% to myself and an unexplainable empty room, and so on.

However, my favorite has always been the 15 minute set thrown down by Portland band The Cysts in the summer of 2009. A project consisting of folks from the noise world (Argumentrix, Frozen Body, etc), I expected them to be the Pacific Northwest's answer to LA's Deep Jew or the Northeast's Dynasty - walls of wrecked guitar noise, drums and strained vocals just barely keeping it inline with the idea of it being a "band" at all, not that I would have minded: playing with Dynasty here in Phoenix was incredible, though tense at a few points: namely when Chris Kites had taken the mic stand off the ground, and swung it 'round his head like a helicopter. I'm prude, and so when playing with Deep Jew at The Smell, I steered clear of the fist fights that the crowd yearned to illicit.

That's really neither here nor there, as The Cysts were ultimately were a unit with much more control, the same amount of energy - but crafted into much more containable bursts and coming across like a spazzed out Born Against of Hail Mary, in overall vibe, but largely in part to James Squeaky's similarly excellent vocals. The power blew at least a couple of times, and I think people weren't sure what to make of their intensity. When a band is self-contained and just barely keeping such explosive force under a thin layer of control, I think people are often taken back. Do you "get into it" or do you keep your distance and just appreciate (I recalled a similar feeling watching the crowd at a Cult Ritual show earlier in the year, though it was much more tense).

A year later, The Cysts came back through, with them: a new 7" perfectly titled "The Cyst". Perhaps a bit toned down from their manic debut, "Public Release", these five songs are menacing and nervous, frantic without being disjointed. The Vermiform references still stand, and with more support than before, and the packaging is beautiful: an intricate hand-assembled screen-printed sleeve and insert, which begs to ask the question: why isn't there a single photo of it (at least that I can find) on the internet, so that I can leech it for this space, here?

BROKEN WATER - "Normal Never Happened" 7" (Fan Death)

2010-10-11T02:01:00.005-07:00

Who has more nerve? The band that covers the Negative Approach song "Ready to Fight", a sarcastically psychedelic 15 minute rendition, while actually opening for a Negative Approach reunion show, or the label that opts to press and LP of that recording a couple months later? ...following such an absurd record with output from modern left-field extremists such as Drunkdriver, FNU Ronnies, The New Flesh and The Chickens can only really guarantee "solid gold status" amongst the elite in underbelly of punk.

And so following Fan Death Records has been a no-brainer and largely rewarding path to go down. Something about their work feels sincere, honest, amidst a plethora or "come and go" vendors, who hop on when the going seems good, and depart when they release it's mostly for the sake of the art. 20 releases, or so, in the first couple of years of operation is admirable to say the least. To say a bit more: most of them are legitimately well done and things that I personally do enjoy a lot, to sort of scenario that may or may not lead you to send a copy of your own bands recent record, as some sort of token "thank you".

Thank you for being ambitious, maintaining a quality and (more importantly) a level of integrity that can usually be lost early on. A "thank you" that comes from someone feeling like they've spotted someone who is doing this sort of project for the same reason they are (that is to say, "as I am"). A "thank you", that in this case, unfortunately made it's way back to my PO Box, after a seemingly drunk clerk at the Mesa, AZ main station assured me that she could figure out which Baltimore zip-code was needed, since my printing label had managed to cut that portion of the address off, somehow.

While I was skeptical of her ability to do this, seeing as Baltimore is probably going to have several zip codes, I am a mere peasant in that final stage of the parcel sending process, and we already were having our problems that day: 17 international packages, all of which being the victims of a three to five minute ordeal of having their "new fancy" customs forms that "we don't get here yet", mangled and misconstrued, eventually leading to the right portion on the bottom layer, which has no business remaining on the box itself (would it not be sticky on the back like the left side, if it was?), being fixed in place with copious amounts of masking tape.

I knew I was right, at the time. Paying for the postage again, as a "return to sender / undeliverable address" almost a month later was not really a victory that tasted so sweet, but at least it wasn't kept somewhere for a pseudo-eternity and then ultimately destroyed. That would be a shame, at least this way I know Fan Death has not received "People Problems", at least not from me, or for free.

"Normal Never Happened" is now a distant memory, playing about half an hour ago. I don't forget the song, what it sounded like or how it felt, but time had passed. "Distant". In this case, actually I mean quite the opposite. There is something universally familiar with this band, at least for me. It may have been a few paragraphs or weeks or months ago, but this still feels (and will feel) like something I have always known well.

When I first heard Broken Water, I was obsessed with the idea of them being this sludgy loud, basement take on a Rainer Maria type sound, and while I can still hear aspects of this personal belief on their LP on Night People, while spinning the b-side, "Faux King Vogue", I suppose it is a bit hard to veer to far off of what many others have had to say about this band: "Sonic Youth this, Unwound that, Shoegaze this, 90's that".

None of that discredits the fact that it's an incredibly good song, a melody that is addictive and begs to borrow M'Lady's Records use of the "double A-side" (and sometimes triple) when describing a new single. Yeah, it does sound like a Thurston fronted song from any one of many points in the past 30 years, but that takes nothing away from it's validity, at least not in my opinion.

Besides, that's the b-side. Obviously, this isn't the hit single from a new LP, and the second song is not a "throw away" b-side in the classic sense, but it is the second of two songs here, the first of which deserves much more of a diverse catalog reference.

"Normal Never Happened", while indeed may leech some of these same "tag" words, has a sound the sprawls. One may even offer the idea that is has a cross section from the Sympathy For The Record Industry world, as there's a bit of a garage feel at times (ala Mr. Airplane Man), portions of the dreamier 60's "girl-group" style, and some noisy riffs in the tail end that hint towards passionate sloppy surf-tinged Estrus bands.

Housed in sleeves which are both letter-pressed and sporadically paint-splattered, the aesthetics are in tune with what's inside. There's a lot going on in a short amount of time and space, and it feels like it's the result of an organic process, very similar to the functioning of the Fan Death label. While this is a bit more on the relaxed side of things (as far as Fan Death goes), in a lot of ways, this single embodies what the label is doing and is a perfect starting point for both them and Broken Water as well. ...and both are worth your time.

DESTRUCTION UNIT - "Eclipse" LP (FDH / Perfectly Round Records).

2010-09-09T23:34:00.005-07:00

Ryan Rousseau is one of the greater Phoenix area's most prolific musicians, and despite sharing space with notable folks on plenty of occasions, his endeavors are still criminally under-rated.

Once a member of The Reatards and the live incarnation of Angry Angles, Ryan's had Jay Reatard and Alicja Trout both play on previous Destruction Unit records, and given the consistent ties with Memphis, I sometimes wonder why it is that more people aren't vocal about their appreciation for Ryan's long lasting Phoenix-based pool of creativity (with The Wongs, Tokyo Electron, Earthmen and Strangers), as I think it's fair to assume he would have jumped ship by now. But that's fine, people sleep on the finer things in life all of the time, why would this be any different?

In the past, Destruction Unit has been the vehicle for his synth-heavy garage punk onslaught, comparable to Jay's Terror Visions project, but less out of control, and crafting songs that were often much more memorable and dynamic, at least in how they were received by me.

When Ryan told me a few months ago that the new line-up was going to have a more "kraut rock" style of approach, I was unsure what to think about how it would actually end up sounding, though had no doubts that I'd love it.

After catching their first Phoenix show (following a San Diego trip, playing with Golden Triangle), it was obvious that this new version of Destruction Unit had quickly and naturally locked into the perfect repetition of the "kraut" sort, while maintaining the moody garage aspects that most specifically manifest in Ryan's vocals, which both live and on the LP, sound perfect.

And so the result is an incredible record, completely wrapped up and ready to purchase no more than three months later, and sitting in my room, organizing my recently listened to LPs, alphabetically, to facilitate their return to the wall, the eight minute opener could not possibly be a better soundtrack: repetition, when natural, feels perfect - and while someone might say this is just Blue Cheer worship, without seeing how this would have every bit as much to do with the Stooges, the diverse influences of Ryan's back ground and desire to take this project in a specific direction, are obvious and an incidental masterpiece.

What I am trying to say is this: listening to Ryan talk about how excited he was to get this reborn project going, I knew it would be good. Several of these songs had been droning in my short term memory for a solid month, after seeing them do it live, before hearing them again on this record, and after playing through this thing 8 or 9 times now: I am positive that this batch of pieces is perfect for me. I love it, and I hope that you will too.

YELLOW SWANS - "Going Places" LP w/ "Being There" CD (Type).

2010-08-22T04:27:00.004-07:00

I don't fancy myself a record collector, mostly because I am not I suppose. This, in the sense that I don't care about having an original press of an obscure LP that I can easily buy for a tenth of the price as a reissue, nor do I care about what color of vinyl any specific copy that I have, may be. Black is fine, and I am the sort of person that prefers the "no frills" approach in most areas of life, anyway. Besides, it's cheaper,... and yes, I would know. An extra 15-40 cents of profit per sale, flushed into the toilet of fetishism.

And so it's mind boggling to me, how hard it can periodically be, to buy a plain old new LP, just a few weeks or month after it is released. I can admit to the fact that I had a chance to pick one of these up, and that I chose not to at the time. On a short and unprofitable southern California tour, one must budget their record buying funds appropriately when there's still another shop our two in the next day, and there's already a large stack of random and obscured finds chipping away at the designated cash and becoming hard to balance against my side with just my right hand. That would be fine, I knew, it's brand new, and will be in at least a couple of shops in my own town - I'd buy it when I got home.

Obviously this was not the case: suffering the same fate as Grouper's "Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill", Yellow Swan's "Going Places" was impossible to find after leaving Amoeba in late February, as only a limited amount made it from the European-based Type Records over to the states and it wasn't enough to satisfy the demand generated by a prolific and appreciated United States-based unit.

I tried to order from a couple of online mail-order spots, but it was out of stock from both by the time I heard back. No one locally could order it for me: Revolver and Forced Exposure had both run out, and random phone calls to shops in other parts of that country that I thought might carry it were turning up nothing, or that's to say: "Yeah, that thing's really good. We only got two copies in and the sold the same week". Ebay? only a couple, and for entirely too much money. On a couple of other sites, people trying to sucker "the consumer" into paying $80 for one.

How could such a highly acclaimed, brand new record, be so hard to purchase so shortly after it's release? I don't really ask how, because it all makes plenty of sense, it's a rhetorical complaint, that's all. And in the defense of "availability", it's actually still incredibly easy to purchase the CD version, but I don't think I need to explain that doing so is not really something I had allowed as an option.

Six months later, I fly to Atlanta for the last time. I had been visiting Teta once a month or so for about a year, and since her year long position at a job was wrapping up, this was a one-way flight. We'd drive back across the country together, taking a few days of relaxation at my grandparent's home, on a lake in eastern Tennessee, eating at a few exceptionally good places on the way through the south (Woodlands in Nashville, the best Indian lunch buffet I've had - for example), and inevitably: with many short frantic detours into each cities decent record shops.

I think it was actually between Memphis and Oklahoma City when I realized that I was going to find this. One year earlier, we had traveled on the same path, only heading east. Oklahoma City was the first city (when east-bound) that had shops I was interested in: Guestroom - a large and comprehensive store that is truly special and unreasonably well-stocked and diverse, the kind of legitimate sub-cultural cross-sections that rarely are seen outside of "major" cities. And Size: a smaller shop that shared some personnel with a venue next door over, and obviously took great pride in carrying what they chose to, which to be fair, felt like a more condensed and specific version of what the other store in town was doing.

I remembered specifically, that Size Records, one year earlier, had new copies of a lot of things that had come out in the year or two before, but had since been sucked into obscurity in almost any other purchase situation in the country. We pulled up, and I swore that this was it, I was going to find this pesky thing. It was going to be sitting in there waiting for me.

$19.99, less expensive than any place else that had ever been selling it. A sticker that the shop had stuck to the poly-sleeve let you know that it was "Yellow Swans" and that it came w/ a bonus CD, another - that there's only 500 copies (which should translate into "buy this now), and then the icing on the cake: a four paragraph description, spelling out exactly why this was such an exciting and sure to be important LP to take home as your own.

This store had done everything it could possibly do to make this thing seem as incredible and valid as it is, and while every other shop or mailorder in the country couldn't hold on to their's for more than a week or two, my eventual copy had been calmly waiting for me in this misc Y section, dressed for the occasion of convincing an unsure consumer. Your loss, Oklahoma City.

After spending much longer than expected in an insane flea-market turned "junk shop that used to be a flea market but everything that is still in there is cooperatively sold by two guys", we ended up calling it quits (as far as driving), a little sooner than expected, finding us at the Camelot outside of Amarillo, TX, which I am convinced was once a nursing home or small institution of sorts (judging from the odd layout and fact that you can only get in from hallways inside the building). I don't find the idea of that as very strange, certainly not uncomfortable, regardless. Focus should definitely be put on the stucco additions to the building, which effective gave it the look of some horrible southwestern castle. That is, after all, the deciding factor in us staying there, and if there was a CD player or turntable available, I might have had my first dosage of this inside that fortress.

Crossing into New Mexico: we have to pee.

So after roaming like zombies through the aisles of this abnormally large gas station / grocery store / garbage shop, I dug out "Going Places" from the box of things I had grabbed on the trip so far, and took out the CD to listen to while we drove, never starting in the parking lot: I liked to start listening to something new, in this sort of situation, when I am already moving at a normal pace on the freeway.

So the disc sat inside the dashboard of Teta's car for about an hour, doing nothing, waiting, wondering why it's long overdue owner was preventing it from performing it's singular job duty. Why? Stuck inside a small printed cardboard sleeve, shrink-wrapped against it's LP counterpart for half of a year after being sent over halfway across the world. What was the hold-up now?

Getting back onto the 40, it was obvious that something was wrong: traffic, which had been moving fine when we made our urination stop, was now seeming to cease, although we could see the beginning area of congestion, and assumed it might have been construction, and the near-stopped current due to the inability of two lanes to just yield. (the left lane was coned off, after-all).

20 minutes of crawling, we could have made more progress by walking. We'd move up a car length or two, then stop for awhile. Maybe "they" were searching every single car because someone had just kidnapped a baby from the very gas station we were just at, and they were combing with as much potentially inappropriate detail as possible. Who knows?

Cars start cutting across the median, heading back east on the 40. Why? ...when cars started driving in the coned of lane, backwards on our side, we knew something was not right. No police though, no emergency vehicles. So we attempted to tough it out, even though it appeared that a growing number of cars were using the access / frontage route 200 feet parallel to the 40.

I sit annoyed, complaining to myself that there seems to be no order to what was going on, and debating if waiting, like I assumed I should be, was the right thing to do or not. This of course, causing Teta to be more anxious than she already was - sitting in the passenger seat of an Accord that had gone about 1/2 mile in 1/2 an hour, this ultimately providing me with enough of a reason to just follow suit with some of the rogue vehicles, of which there seemed to be more and more of.

A few minutes later, we were in close proximity of the gas station / super market, only this time we were driving up and exiting on the freeway entrance ramp, and as we turned onto the frontage road, we were indeed "Going Places".

"Foil", the first track on the disc, while initially starting off in one of Yellow Swans more overblown-shoegaze moments, quickly descends into an atmospheric and swirling soundtrack, with the most simple aspects of percussive texture: both in the periodic fluttering in the subdued low-end drone, and the consistent bounce of what sounds like a small bell, alternating from left to write in conjunction with some of the most truly musical and accessible sound I've heard Yellow Swans offer, almost like portions of an ambient Eno record, but sped up so that the larger patterns are much more easy to see and become less of patterns and more of visual melodies.

But is this really about being wordy and trying to describe a "noise" record, or is it about the way that 16 minutes into this track, as things start to build and culminate into the more harsh feelings of the first minute or so, we pass, 200 feet away on the access route, the source of the delay, which was not at all a delay, but a complete cease in movement(?). An eighteen wheeler smashed like it had fallen down a cliff, but sprawled sideways across the entire westbound 40, preventing anything from being able to proceed, or even to be able to go around it, without making a U-turn and taking the same instinctual detour that we finally had taken ourselves.

No police, still, but a couple of ambulances had just arrived to the scene, 45 minutes after this thing had flipped on it's side. If someone had died, with was due to the length of time it took of anyone to get there, and the hours and hours or delay in traffic heading west, the same. How it could take so long for any sort of emergency services to arrive was perplexing, as was the absence of a motorcycle cop, theoretically driving down the stretch of freeway from the accident to the previous exit and telling them to turn around, closing the 40 and setting up a simple detour, after doing so. But what do I know about how to handle an emergency situation such as this? Maybe "letting things sit for awhile (to see if it will work itself out" is standard in New Mexico.

This scenario was not really moving. Maybe it should have been, but it didn't feel more exciting than finding Teta the best banana that I could at that previous stop, nor did it feel more exciting than walking into the stucco castle hotel, and finding not one, but two ceramic leopards in the front lobby, identical to the one that Teta had picked up for her mom and the flea-junk store a few hundred miles earlier, and certainly not as much as finding the Yellow Swans record that had been alluding me, and was now playing and sounding so beautifully perfect at the moment: confirming that even though it was just the first 20 minutes of this thing, I was undoubtedly going to love and be obsessed with the entire thing, and a few weeks later, sitting here at home, after realizing the contents of the LP are actually independent of what is on the "bonus" CD that came with the LP, and spending a solid couple of hours listening through the entire package from start to finish, I can confirm that I was right in my assumption, and that I didn't have any idea to what extent at the time.

A few years ago, I was staying over at Brian Miller's home in LA after playing a show the day before, and I recall him referring to Yellow Swans' "At All Ends" as a masterpiece. I agree with that sentiment, and think even more so about "Going Places", and I really hope that everyone else that has a history of loving what these guys did (for the better part of a decade), can eventually be able to sit in their rooms from 2:30-4:30am on some random night, typing out a bunch of gibberish while listening to a copy of their own.

RAFAEL TORAL - "Space Elements II" LP (Taiga).

2010-05-01T14:36:00.005-07:00

The house of YOBS is empty, other than myself and Gerald. Empty in the sense that there is no show happening, there is no group of people spending time together. Nobody in the living room, nor outside. Gerald chops through five pounds of tomatoes and onions, tossing various amounts of mustard or tamari or whiskey into pots and pans, electric warmth running through their bases, the birthing of his newest batch of “Bomb Sauce”, an on-going label for his delicious variations on BBQ, here: an almost chili like creation, in the sense that rather than being a condiment, it's typically the main attraction of a meal. I enjoy it on an open faced grilled cheese: sourdough with provolone, actually.

About a week and a half ago, I had a new record that I was releasing on my label get all finished up, and so there's that immediate sense of wanting it completely assembled as soon as all of the components arrive. Sometimes I do this alone on the floor of my bedroom, listening to records and frantically folding covers and inserting records and inserts as quickly as possible. Sometimes I contract it out as a job for the developmentally disabled individuals at the sheltered workshop where I work, which is always a bit of a weird territory to veer into just because of my own boundaries.

This time around, after finding out that Rafael Toral had a new LP out (grabbing it instantly but not having listened to it yet), I decided that Gerald and I should spend time together listening to his work. ...not just this new LP, but the entire “Space Program” series that leads up to it: a double LP of a fully orchestrated project, a stripped down and singular supplement to it which came afterwords, and the first volume of “Space Elements”, the second of two being the one that had just come out.

About a year ago, John Quintos had the pleasure of sharing Rafael Toral's work with me while we were alone at Eastside Records, and in some ways it was the perfect setting for exposure. I'm not going to pretend to be an expert on this guy's work, so I will offer only my own thoughts and their small verifiable truths witnessed through just a few short videos of him performing and (more so) speaking. I think the term Toral is using was “post-free jazz for electronics”, which is a perfect future genre for these works, though doesn't necessarily tell you what it's going to sound like.

Using small hand-made / altered electronics and new methods and combinations of pre-existing units (small amps feeding back through specific filters, theramin controlled white noise generators, glove controlled computer sine-waves, for example), Toral creates sparse conversations between his gear and the “planet Earth” instruments of his collaborators (bells, trombone, trumpet, flute, etc). The result is not music, so much as it is a conversation. Emphasis is not given to anything specifically, other than the permission for his simple creations to sputter and send out signals to interact with and navigate through the occasion input from sounds that are more familiar to the casual listener. That, and the appropriate use of silence.

“Space Program”, and yet the result is almost more natural and environmentally grounded than any other “music” that is out there. These sounds like birds at times, dolphins at others, and just as would happen in nature, there emerges a flow and perhaps unavoidable display of communication that is very captivating if you are willing to listen, even while being completely absent of any sort of pattern or “music” or even series of notes.

Although this is truly experimental and progressive, leaving traditional methods behind and embracing a rare combination of sounds and more so approach, there are some parallels that can be observed and appreciated, most notably to one of my favorite records, Marion Brown's “Afternoon of Georgia Faun” LP. While that does have sections where things are falling back to at least a somewhat recognizable format (and it's still a pretty “out there” take on free jazz it it's most put together parts), that Marion Brown record take similar liberties in allowing the silence of empty space and non-music collages and interactions between various instruments and percussion.

In both the case of “Afternoon...” and Toral's “Space Program”, one may very well be lost on who would be listening to and liking these records, while simultaneously having this understanding (or at least connection) with the creation themselves. That Marion Brown LP is not for most people who like “jazz”. Rafael Toral's “Space Series” is not for most people who like “electronic music”, “noise”, “modern composer” or even the bulk of whatever may be lumped into “avant garde”.

As for myself, reading through and editing some personal writing from a trip to Atlanta a couple of months ago, while occasion slipping in a few pieces of dialog with Gerald, who continued to give live to his next batch of sauce, Toral provides not only the perfect soundtrack, but is actively involved with the overall feeling and conversation of the house as well, and I think that there are few things that can exist in conjunction with the two of us like that. There's a million ambient or minimalist things that could be noninvasive, but the communication being offered through the “Space Program” is much more substantial and does nothing but enrich an already good company.

TYVEK - “Demos” cassette (Fag Tapes).

2010-02-20T11:03:00.004-07:00

I really, really loved this.

After a recent tape on Dan (from Haunted Castle / Cardboard Sax)'s label Excite Bike, I was not overly excited about this one coming in. The one on EXBX was unlistenable, not in the fantastic way that they usually are, but in the sense that it was live recordings that sounded like they were captured from a walkman in someone's backpack, and while that was actually much appreciated in the case of that Trashdog LP, it didn't work as well. IT was mostly muffled bass lines that would only mean a thing to you if you already knew and liked them and it they were jogging your memory.

So, another Tyvek tape on a label that also, primarily, does noise releases: Fag Tapes, the overly productive machine coordinated by Sick Llama / Slither cohort, Heath.

Tossing this on though, I am pleasantly surprised that everything that I love about Tyvek is captured perfectly. Raw demos of stuff, some of which is familiar, some of it not, which makes me think this might be culled from recordings that took place prior to their first barrage of singles. A jankey and disjointed Urinals for the late 2000's, for sure, confidentially messy (some might call that “not giving a shit”, but it's not the same thing) and highly addictive, it doesn't matter if parts cut in and out (and have other sounds occasionally interfering!) and they are not 100% together. Really, to ruin this band, all you would need is perfect musician ship and a “good” recording. Conveyed through the means and style that they often do, it's enough of it's own thing that my attention is grabbed consistently (though they were coming pretty close to losing me with the LP on Siltbreeze).

This collection is really exciting for people who are in my exact shoes in regards to this band, and it's nice to have a large helping of what they do, since aside from the Siltbreeze LP, it's all scatterred into small portions on the vinyl format. The full length that doesn't exist, and really should, is “Fast Metabolism”, a CDr they have had around forever and which instead of making it's way onto vinyl as quite the perfect LP, was dissected into a few singles. (It's criminal to have to flip through four records to enjoy that series of songs, it really is)! This tape has completely different versions of a ton of those songs, maybe half of them (mostly across the b-side, a perfect place for them to pop up, because leading up to them are all these unfamiliar things, once you find the tracks that you've come to love, it's exhilarating).

That being said, the next best thing: there's an LP of early (disclosed as) “horrible sounding” demo's coming out on, ironically enough, EXBX, and so my hope is that it's going to be this tape, because these recordings deserve it, and so does the listener. I can't wait. (and in the meanwhile, if you want one of the 77 copies that exist of this trashcan masterpiece, act fast)!

Check out TYVEK: HERE.

Check out FAG TAPES: HERE.

Check out EXCITEBIKE: HERE.

THE GOSLINGS - “Sister and Son / Death Garage” 2 x cassette (Rotting Chapel).

2010-02-19T00:47:00.002-07:00

Everything is a matter of opinion, and one person's most cherished meal may be the next's most nauseating indigestible serving of garbage imaginable. Or: while this is obviously not for everyone, those on the same (or a similar) page will be very happy to hear that this new release from Goslings is full of all anticipated vitamins and minerals, regardless of it's effect on the tongue.

“Everlasting Arm” starts off the first of the two tapes with the signature sound of overblown soul-drone, which while may seem unappealing of not all that specific, is a genre that I feel this trio is alone in. (Or: when a track like this starts, which slow, relentlessly pounding guitars that are so horribly scrambled that the tape itself sounds as though it's been distorted, over abused drums that refuse to allow you any sort of freedom to nod along, and Leslie's vocals, loud in their own right and swooning through wherever there is a crack in the wall, I feel as though it's easy to know who you are listening to).

...and yet after the five minutes of this machine start to come to an end, the components all becoming less violent and much more sparse, the tone is changed fairly dramatically as “Lisa” dances across a bleack industrial landscape, coming forward as more of an “early electronics” platform for conversations on depression and pain. It's one of the more subdued Goslings tracks I've heard, yet still channels their energy perfectly.

The second tape immediately unleashes a thick, low, speaker compromising feedback(?), an extended tone that falters once the inevitable percussive assault, and then seems to comfortably settle with being a casual observer as Leslie's vocals are allowed a fair moment in the forefront along side what sounds like well-restrained, yet still free, saxophone work.

“God is a Bird” wraps things up with a piece that initially starts off much like a Slither recording might. (Upon skimming, the entire second tape is guitar free, replaced here with horns / electronics, hence the comparison). Much like the previous several minutes of sound, this is a well contained assembly of sound, though to the poorly-versed ear that ha never soaked in an American Tapes release, this could potentially just seem like a mess.

There are a few things about this release that leave me with these questions: The art: why does it not say Goslings on it anywhere on the outside? I quite literally had no idea what this was when I picked it up from my PO Box, though was quite obviously in for a pleasant surprise. (I should add that I am not very keen on the art for this thing, regardless). The tape(s): why a double tape when both tapes are single sided? (to be clear: both tapes have the same thing on both sides, so essentially there's just side A and side C, if that makes sense). And: this has been out for a few months or so, where's the LP version? This is begging for someone to press it in that format, and there's got to be someone out there that wants to do it. If I didn't have so many things in the works, I'd offer in a second.

In a completely general context, or more so for comparison: The Goslings (very much) sound like they are some sort of strange combination of Get Hustle, Sword Heaven and Grey Daturas. Maybe. As far as the scarcity of this release: There are 150 copies, making one of them yours would be a wonderful choice, if any of this sounded like it would be up your alley at all.

Check out THE GOSLINGS: HERE.
Buy this from ROTTING CHAPEL: HERE.
Pick up their previous, incredible, “Occasion” CD on Not Not Fun: HERE.

.

UN-PAUSE

2010-02-18T08:51:00.004-07:00

No updates for the past month or so. Sorry about that! A few trips out of town have been large time eaters (though did offer some insane record shopping in Atlanta and playing some really incredible shows in Southern California). This will be in full swing within the next week at most.

Thanks!

TYVEK - "Blunt Instrumental" LP (Night People)

2010-01-06T16:17:00.003-07:00

Modern day Detroit, broken down Urinals, free to be a bit sloppy, free to fool around. “Blunt Instrumental” is only 2/5’s instrumental, and a much enjoyed new offering from art-damaged garage unit TYVEK. “Bicycle Fantasy I” and “9 Bucks” are perfect without any words cluttering what’s there to catch: the first being the perfect end to the A-side of a jankey LP that would be a favorite from the In The Red catalog, the latter being the one that would appropriately start the live set at the release show.

“ Robots, Dogs” and “YOU, YOU, YOU” are summed up by the line “EVERYTHING IS SLIGHTLY OUT OF REACH”, but that’s the approach that works so well with these guys, and why I loved their first few singles so much. Addictive but off-kilter, yet quite “blunt” indeed, the delivery feels insanely confident.

The real “hit single” here though, is “Cold Sun Blind My Eye”, a ten minute ultra lo-fi free jam, that somehow bridges the gap between the free-form psych explorations of something off Not Not Fun or Time-Lag, and the broken-tape deck / gritty garage of the Terminal Boredom sort, a repetitive, appropriately “boring” and ultimately perfect piece of true modern rock. (And the packaging (by Shawn Reed (Wet Hair / Raccoo-oo-oon)) is excellent).

CHECK OUT TYVEK: HERE

BUY THIS LP FROM NIGHT PEOPLE: HERE.

BLUE JUNGLE - “Baby Don't Cary” LP (Antifiesta)

2010-01-04T22:28:00.002-07:00

Too many things happening at once, too many personal connections feeling like they are deteriorating, too much of an extent of removal feeling eminent, mis-communication or perhaps (just a little) forgetfulness. In this case, if I recall correctly, I was going to be out of town. In any event: I wasn't able to set up a show for this band, and when someone else did at one of the Tempe houses, I wasn't able to play or even attend.

Friends of friends, and apparent do-gooders on their own turf (members coordinate the L'Keg Gallery in LA), BLUE JUNGLE are the one band that I missed coming through this summer / fall that I truly hold that much importance in. Eyehategod? Sure, it would have been nice to see them. Arrington? Absolutely, of course. (I was supposed to play with him). However, this was to be new and exciting to me, something fresh and unfamiliar.

While one might argue that Blue Jungle are not doing anything that is really ground breaking, one should more so argue that it's relevance is huge. In an era where “shoegaze” revival is apparent, there is something that holds as “honest” here. I don't hear a poppy and accessible visitation to the past, like (the honestly enjoyed) Pains of Being Pure At Heart or Vivian Girls, rather: I hear Mazzy Star, as channeled through young contemporaries, a bit more up beat than the standard Hope Sandoval dish in some ways, but holding on to that beautiful eeriness that is synonymous with her work, delivering it in a vehicle that travels somewhere between 60's garage and goth, perfectly.

Moderately campy, but not cheesy. Fairly moody, but not overly-pouty. A bit bluesy and soulful, but not cliché. Blue Jungle navigates an often tainted and embellished territory, without succumbing to the pitfalls of it's domain, and there is something here that makes you desire to be proud of them, more so than usual, for doing so.

This is an excellent little LP, recommended if the idea of Siouxie and the Banshees meeting Mazzy Star on the B-side of a Girls in the Garage comp sounds nice, this is most certainly for you. I just hope that next time they pass through wherever I am, I don't miss out on the opportunity.

LUCKY DRAGONS - “OPEN POWER” 12” (Teenage Teardrops).

2009-12-27T23:04:00.003-07:00

In my bedroom, earlier today, Teta and I discussed our own personal relationships with Lucky Dragons: mine is kept to this odd disconnection, a relationship that doesn't seem to ever begin, yet when it's flirted with, feels like it's already there, and the irony is that we've played together a few times, but never in my own town (even when it was with one of my own projects, I couldn't make it to the show, so they went on without me). We see each other, and there is substantial respect and mutual admiration, the kind of connection that is both satisfying in the sense that it is allowed to happen with minimal physical necessities to do so, but also sad in the fact that it usually bound to that moment. ...for example, “I've been meaning to write Luke lately”. ...and: ”lately” is marked by a time which started when we last played with each other, August 2008.

Teta cited her time at The Manor, a local house that is forever doing shows, with an alternating cast of occupants. Not wanting to be in your own home, having strangers flood in, and not truly interacting with you or making positive impacts on you, and Lucky Dragons providing a relief, through small headphones underneath a blanket in the bedroom, a false sanctuary within the boundaries of your own domain, something beautiful and magical that made things a little bit better during a time that not allowing feelings things to feel okay.

This of course is not a criticism of the Manor, by any means, though in her specific time there, it was very loose, the occupants all having their own affairs, plans and schedules. That being said (and over-ruling): my favorite memory in that house is sitting on the futon in the living room, with Teta next to me,... she had just finished cooking some green beans while some band was playing in the living room, and her letting me try some (they were delicious, cooked to the perfect point like only she and specific Thai places can), prompting me to ask if she had ever had this one green bean dish at Lemongrass, where we inevitably had dinner together almost a year later, slightly before she left town, the first time, on a road trip. ...she left early and didn't say goodbye, and I was proud of her for doing so.

This is off task and personal, though that is the sort of thinking that Lucky Dragons consistently seem to prompt for me, as most things beautiful and magical should. There is the vagueness that yearns to be treasured, and while may be written off as boring by some, is appreciated as golden by others.

“Open Power” is perfect in every way possible, except for the fact that it is too short, not just in the confines of it being an EP, but in the broad parameters of it not being allowed to go on for hours at a time. Physical and electronic sound, cascading into something that feels like an ambient yet glitchy Gamelan-style soundscape. This is truly celebratory, escapist music. This couple is from Los Angeles, and this is the antithesis: the soundtrack for retreat and something finer, or for bulldozing the concrete to find something deeper, or for painting over the surface to open the eyes of those passing by to something more, or for looking inside yourself to find the will to hold on and pull through.

This record is truly important. There are 750 of them and I urge you to take one as your own.

CHECK OUT LUCKY DRAGONS: HERE.

NU SENSAE - “Three Dreams” 7” (Critiscum Internationale)

2009-12-27T22:22:00.002-07:00

One of my favorite moments from this past year, was seeing this great Vancouver duo play for a second time. The first was in a crowded basement in Portand, about a year earlier, our tours intersecting under one of the more stressful of situations. (Not to get off track, but it's hard to not want to talk about how Tent/City and Nu Sensae is a weird enough of a combination, but that local werido hero Nick / Tunnel's set of abstract basement bizarro-dance music was possible the odd-project out that night, but easily / also the most enjoyable, in a way).

This time around, however, our own endeavors were much more appropriately matched, with me contributing a new Soft Shoulder line-up that was thick and disgusting, but much like Nu Sensae, also very digestible in an upside down sort of way. (and on tour with them was Justin / Random Cuts, which was a treat all of it's own).

Only slightly more refined than the admittedly rough (though specifically perfect) 12” on Isolated Now Waves, “Three Dreams” is actually four new tracks, much welcome after letting the 12” and their contribution to the Emergency Room compilation sorta simmer for awhile. (The only other new offering that had come my way was a split cassette with Syrup, which oddly enough was a live recording from our show together the summer before last, including a Channels 3x4 cover that, I am quite positive, was only known as such by me.

As was before, Andrea's on sludge bass and vocals, Daniel on drums, recording on the lofi end of things, and the energy and angst at full force. Something spooky and goth-like, despite this band being consistently fun to listen to and see, above all else,... there is also this psuedo-self confidence and reverse-ego that trickles through and conquers,...

a line from “Fantum” on the B-Side inadvertently / accidentally conveys: “You've fallen sick with what I've got”.

...almost perfectly sums this single up.

CHECK OUT NU SENSAE: HERE.

VIC CHESNUTT (November 12, 1964 – December 25, 2009)

2009-12-26T09:19:00.003-07:00

Speaking as a child in their mid-late 20's, I find it fair enough to say it's a shame that this person was not common knowledge. He first came into my scope in the mide 90's, not because I was into fringe culture, but because mainstream culture had, for a minute, bridged a gap that brought Vic into magazines, on PBS and even MTV (specificially in regards to a compilation benefiting Sweet Relief, in which groups like Garbage, R.E.M. and Smashing Pumpkins covered his songs).

The fact that Vic was suicidal has always been common knowledge, as was the fact that he was partially paralyzed from a car accident when he was 18. What I found most upsetting what that in the past year, he has had so many neat things going on, and I had secretly been allowed to feel all the lightest better knowing this to be true. (Specifically, he recorded a new record with some of the Godspeed You Black Emperor guys and Guy from Fugazi, and just finished a tour with them as his band, too. On top of that, he was just on NPR, talking for an hour about doing so, his former work, suicide and his life. I wouldn't have been delusional to think that this would mean, "he will never try it again", but it made me feel optimistic and good, that he had gotten to another place that was nice.

Rather than write my own long winded explanation for how / why I felt Vic Chesnutt was so important and valid (cause I am getting there, believe me), I'm just going to go ahead and repost his friend Kristen Hersh's eulogy, instead.

===========
Surrounded by family and friends, Vic Chesnutt died in Athens Georgia this afternoon, Friday 25 December at 14:59.

In the few short years that we knew him personally, Vic transformed our sense of what true character, grace and determination are all about. Our grief is inexpressible and Vic’s absence unfathomable.

We will make more information available according to the wishes of Vic’s family and friends.
===========

What this man was capable of was superhuman. Vic was brilliant, hilarious and necessary; his songs messages from the ether, uncensored. He developed a guitar style that allowed him to play bass, rhythm and lead in the same song — this with the movement of only two fingers. His fluid timing was inimitable, his poetry untainted by influences. He was my best friend.

I never saw the wheelchair—it was invisible to me—but he did. When our dressing room was up a flight of stairs, he'd casually tell me that he'd meet me in the bar. When we both contracted the same illness, I told him it was the worst pain I'd ever felt. "I don't feel pain," he said. Of course. I'd forgotten. When I asked him to take a walk down the rain spattered sidewalk with me, he said his hands would get wet. Sitting on stage with him, I would request a song and he'd flip me off, which meant, "This finger won't work today." I saw him as unassailable—huge and wonderful, but I think Vic saw Vic as small, broken. And sad.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to listen to his music again, but I know how vital it is that others hear it. When I got the phone call I'd been dreading for the last fifteen years, I lost my balance. My whole being shifted to the left; I couldn't stand up without careening into the wall and I was freezing cold. I don't think I like this planet without Vic; I swore I would never live here without him. But what he left here is the sound of a life that pushed against its constraints, as all lives should. It's the sound of someone on fire. It makes this planet better.

And if I'm honest with myself, I admit that I still feel like he's here, but free of his constraints. Maybe now he really is huge. Unbroken. And happy.

Love,
Kristin

HATRED SURGE - "Deconstruct" LP (Rescued From Life)

2009-12-13T22:41:00.004-07:00

Maybe it's that there are very few “hardcore” bands that appeal to me in this day and age, and this is truly “solid” ...maybe it's that when it's in terms of things coming from the heavier side of things, that's even more so the case,... or maybe it's because the first time I listened through this LP, it was drumming and (fake) singing along with John Quintos' one year old child while he sat on top of that jazz LPs inside Eastside Records after close on some Thursday night. Or maybe it's just that this LP is incredibly well done.

With much modern intensity, much like Sex/Vid or their cohorts in Iron Lung (see: their incredible collaboration 7”), Texas' HATRED SURGE also channel a specific element of gloom that I always associate with His Hero is Gone's “Monuments to Thieves” and Unruh's “Setting Fire to Sinking Ships” (to of my favorite LPs, period), though the juxtaposition of male / female vocals adds a specific flare that makes it all that much more engaging, though not so much in sound as in spirit, in the same way that Antischism always appealed to me. A true account of paranoia and desperation, appropriate reactionary aggression. (Perhaps, imagine the finer points of Dirt and Brutal Truth, with album art taking tasteful cues from Gism, for sure).

17 songs on a 45rpm LP, though though without falling into the pitfalls of classic powerviolence or grindcore, this LP provides a diverse approach to something that undeniably has been done countless times over the past 20 years, but making it their own and rendering it valid and important, regardless. I passed on seeing this band a few months ago, as I had only heard a single that didn't grab me as much as this did, and I'm not as into Mammoth Grinder, who they were on tour with (and actually share members with). However, they'll be passing through Phoenix / Tempe in just a few weeks, and I am very much looking forward to catching them this time, instead of screwing up and passing on the opportunity to be crammed in an overcrowded storage space or house, and seeing on of the best active hardcore bands there is.

check out Hatred Surge: here.

(live): DESTROY ALL MUSIC FESTIVAL (The Eyedrum - Atlanta, GA) 10/24/09

2009-10-27T00:24:00.005-07:00

DESTROY ALL MUSIC FESTIVAL / 25^th ANNIVERSARY
THE EYEDRUM (Atlanta, Georgia) 10/24/09

WASTELAND JAZZ UNIT / TRAUMA
TAMIO SHIRAISHI + SEAN MEEHAN
ANDREW COLRANE / GRAHAM MOORE
MR. NATURAL / FENTON

Plenty of people enjoy the fetish of collecting things that are obscure, it's apparent in the closed auction listings on Ebay when you search “American Tapes”, that's for sure. But I wonder: How many people there are, out there, that truly appreciate how special these artifacts are, both in the absurd aesthetics as well as in the unpredictable, outlandish and often times regurgitated sounding audio content. And I wonder: How many people read through John Olson's AOL 1996 style listings for new releases, and instinctively forward them to their friends because there is something so special and smile inducing about reading through such upside-down / “weirdo English”, but also due to getting excited and knowing you'll be buying one copy of every thing listed in that e-mail, maybe even some at wholesale if it's something familiar (or if there's more than 15-50 copies that are ever going to be made). And what about when there's the rare opportunity to see some of these documented projects, outside of the narrow confines of art galleries and basements in their home towns? I suppose I can only really know for myself, how I feel.

Which brought my girlfriend, Teta, and I to a large Atlanta warehouse gallery, The Eyedrum, for a fest commemorating the 25^th anniversary of the Destroy All Music festival. I was supposed to fly home on Saturday night, but since booking my ticket, I no longer had any obligation to be home in Phoenix on Sunday. We had already considered having me change the return flight to Sunday instead, so that we could have an extra day together, but getting an e-mail from Blossoming Noise a few days before leaving, about this show, really pushed it over the edge. An extra 24 hours with my significant other and the chance to see some of these people / projects in a live setting was just too much to pass up.

So:

Fenton: I was a bit confused by what the desired effect was with his performance. Two long copper pipes were propped up in front of a couple of combo amps that were spewing out what sounded like low-end feedback, the kind that makes you really question the stability of you speakers' frames... but I couldn't tell if the sound was being altered or created by movements in the pipes. He seemed sincere and extremely drawn in and attentive, this came across like a project that he had much time invested in and that he was actively attending to the minor fluctuations in sound, but I felt like so much more could have been happening, even if just tapping or scrapping other pieces of metal or pipe into the ones that were upright. I was anticipating something dramatically different at some point or towards the end, but it never found it's way to that subsequent portion. I want to know.

Graham Moore: Fairly loud, wall of noise approach, the type of set up the easily allows chilling and the consumption of alcohol, only hindered by the occasional tone adjustment, for the most part. I appreciated the high volume and abrupt start, and even more so: unexpected increases a long ways in that really seemed to upset various portions of the PA in uncompromising sequences, but I really was not grabbed by what he was doing until things came to a stop towards the end of his set, with the last five minutes of churning, fluttering low end tones lurching in and out of existence, with higher end sound and feedback skirting on it's cruxes. It was really well done: tense and slowly peaked at smaller and smaller spikes until fading out completely. I was won over, 100%.

(photo: Lisa Frank)
Tamio Shiraishi + Sean Meehan: The Eyedrum has several rooms that make up it's innards, the one in which the stage and the majority of this night occurred is actually not the largest, which is actually a rather gigantic square, white-walled gallery space that you first find yourself in when entering, an openness that begs for large multimedia pieces to be sprawling for 100 feet at a time. From one of the even smaller corners of the building, this squealing started, unannounced. The type of squeal that I've only experienced when an accidental and dangerously loud signal is patched into the wrong jack, and meets an open-air feedback loop (unloving accomplished on several occasions when sampling an old solid state washing machine sized receiver's faulty AM feeds into layered tape collages, which is an artistic way to dance around the fact that I could have easily broken an ear drum and surely irritated all dogs in a three mile radius of my living room). ...the sort of situation where you hear feedback, but it sounds like there are multiple pitches sort of shifting back and forth.

Over the course of the following twenty minutes or so, the apparent saxophone generated high-end tones ricocheted off the walls of the main room, into which an older Asian man (Tamio Shiraishi) eventually walked into, meeting up with another man who sat calmly at a single snare drum, using sticks and cymbals to create friction based, smooth sustained tones, at times coming close to matching the ear drum slicing sounds that were somehow being belted out of this man and horn. The sheer amount of physical force that he pushed through his entire body and instrument was perfectly contrasting that of Sean Meehan, who at his most animated moment, found his way down onto his knees, using forks to generate series of short ambiance until ultimately using the snare's head to crackle and crush an empty beer can that had been left on the gallery's floor, at the most slow pace imaginable (it probably went on for about five minutes or so).

Shiraishi and Meehan's piece was the most confrontational and performance based of the night, and the tenseness and anxiety that their presence created even phased me a bit. Shiraishi walked along the walls of the gallery, occasional in-between some of the people that were watching, and he seemed irritated and angry. His sax never made it down to the range in which notes are generally produced for more than a split second, and it seemed as though he was just blowing through and biting down as hard as physically possible, destroying three reeds in the process, while Meehan seemed completely devoid of emotion and life, never changing or moving at any more than a snails pace. The two seemed completely unaware and detached from each other in some ways, but still strangely maintaining this uniform state that relied on both of their input and stability,... they did an incredible job of utilizing the enormous space of the gallery's front room and complete attention and silence from everyone in the building.

(...okay, to be fair, some of us absolutely did let out a laugh when after changing out one of the reeds, Shiraishi approached the front, seemingly swung the entrance door open with much annoyance and then let a few seconds go by before belting out another series of extremely loud saxophone squealing for the few unexpected and unappreciative people on the patio and in the parking lot. ...because that was just truly smart and funny).

Mr. Natural: Before he started, Teta made a comment about this insane looking antler “instrument” that was sitting on the stage, leaned against a stack of amps. I told her about how I once played with this band in Phoenix, in which one of the members had made a contact-mic based unit using antlers, and they had springs of bike chains or something along those lines attached to them, and as the rest of the group (which I later tacked down as Sikhara) did their own thing, he would bow it or smack it against the ground and it would sound like thunder. ...a few minutes passed, and this taller guy, that had already looked familiar, walked by a few times, and too many different light bulbs started going off. It was absolutely the same guy, it had to be.

Sure enough, in ten minutes time, Teta and I were sitting on the floor in front of the small stage, completely enthralled by the simplistic genius of Mr. Naturals set, a dense and intricate collage of sounds generated by tapping and dragging the antlers across the wood planks and bowing (or hitting with the bow) the two long springs that ran parallel down the length of “the instrument” (as he refers to it), with the contact mics feeding the organic sounds through several effects and delay. The overall tone shifted from thick and low and percussive, to portions that were almost harmonic and ambient, which felt delivered from a natural combination of pitch-shifted vibration and occasional allowance of feedback.

In conversation, he expressed that he felt like he went into the performance without the needed preparation, but I feel obligated to express that what he managed to produce for those 20 minutes was not only textured, varied and interesting, but an impressive display of control and innovation (even if it might be a simple idea, he's the one doing it, making it interesting and having me love it). Really neat / nice guy.

Trauma: In my excitement for the night as a whole, I had completely spaced on who Trauma actually consists of (specifically Ben Hall!), and I was ultra excited to see a table full of Graveyards and Editions Broken Research releases, as well as the momentary / situational meeting with Ben, who is the percussive machine in various outsider units (Graveyards, Melee, Traum, Hell and Bunny, ect ect ect). A gigantic relief for me, (and sub-sequential bummer for them), I already owned a majority of the extremely neat things they had with them: some recent and not so recent Graveyards LPs and 8” lathe, a few tapes and countless Broken Research releases that I had gotten from Ben awhile back via the mail. I mentioned that if he had invested his paypal balance wisely, they'd be in good shape, but still managed to grab some exciting new things: new Melee and Graveyards LPs that he had released and I hadn't grabbed from elsewhere yet, a couple of Trauma cassette and a heavily advised / recommended tape from an artist called Skin Graft on Chris Riggs' (the other ½ of Trauma) label, Holy Cheever Church Recordings: which sadly did not come to my attention as the name of his label until Teta and I were back at our place, because the reference in that name is extremely obscure, to the point that I've never met another person who has even seen the film it's culled from, and I would have loved to connect on a mutual appreciation for it. I need to e-mail that guy.

Trauma's set was truly fantastic. Ben had an assortment of belted down styrofoam, what seemed like guitar or bass strings and other assorted items which were bowed atop on large drum, while another, which was more obviously contact mic'd, was used for generating vibration based drones and rapid, forceful skips of drumsticks across the head (with bells eventually making their way on as well). The dynamic range in both volume and type of sound that Ben crafted was completely engaging, the styrofoam and particular edge of this long plastic tube were scathing and could compete with any harsh noise approach that could have been alternatively used, and his various other combinations of actions kept things subconsciously rhythmic, the sort of vibe that causes you to start swaying, without really knowing or understanding to what pace. Chris used a bow and several wooden sticks and other small items to occasionally re-”prepare” the guitar across his lap, and often provided a simple, perfect baseline for what the two would be creating at the moment. Most notable were the movement changes, sparked by the occasional eye contact and body motion, the two would completely alter what they were doing in unison. The changes were exciting and further drew me in. I really loved their set and am grateful to have been able to catch them outside of the parameters of the cassette on American Tapes that I've come accustomed to letting repeat while working on projects at home.

Andrew Coltrane: ...actually played as a duo with a drummer, under the name Cold Turkey. In both his demeanor while playing and throughout the rest of the night, Andrew seems like a really shy, nice guy. I had really been looking forward to see what he was going to do, the various releases of his that I own are pretty varied and almost always really interesting. As Cold Turkey, while the other guy played scattered jazz-style percussion, Andrew played sax through a rig of various machines, not sure if some were tape units or samples of other sorts, but he had healthy amounts of sound spinning around underneath each fresh onslaught of reeded noodling, which itself would often have thick murky substance to it. While I liked what they did overall, the drums kind of took away from it a lot. Unless I was completely misunderstanding what I was hearing and how loud things were, I think they might have even been going through the PA, which seemed completely unnecessary. Of course, to be fair, it's probably hard for anyone that is banging on anything to leave much of an impression directly after watching Ben Hall do anything. (I would assume).

That being said, with an awareness of the critical tone, I was actually into it and grabbed their LP without hesitation. (and it's awesome, much more sparse, no percussion at all, just some heavily effected sax sputter that got a double play spin earlier this afternoon).

(photo: Lisa Frank)
Wasteland Jazz Unit: Other than Trauma, I was most excited to see these guys. They had gotten a hold of me to say hello after they saw something I wrote about them (in regards to a CDr they did on American Tapes, actually), and since then, I played with Talibam! (who they have a split LP with), and have come to learn about the space and radio show they help coordinate in Cincinnati, the Art Damage (Lodge). Their schtick is simple and to the point: a reeds duo (sax and clarinet) through some effects and extreme volume, and it becomes much more apparent live, as the two play their instruments the way you would aggressively imitate Glenn Branca on guitar, that the approach is half of the game. It's not easy to swallow, but once you get to a part of the room where you can stand and watch them without your ears bleeding, you catch that it's a full on noise/jazz freak-out, most directly carved in stone when the amps shut off for the last couple of minutes and you can clearly hear John Lorenz wailing relentlessly. Obviously not for everyone, and especially not for anyone with sensitive ears or an opposition to feedback, but the “anything goes” / “fuck it” vibe is playful and sincere in it's specificness. I was way into it, despite taking a bit to figure out where and how I could be able to tolerate the aural attack. “All music has been destroyed”, indeed!

...neat meeting these guys and chatting for a second. I gladly picked up their new CDr that documents a collaboration with C. Spencer Yeh. “That's a fucking weird one”, the other John points out while laughing a healthy bit. I laughed too: “yeah, I bet!”. I look forward to eventually passing through their part of the country, I am sure it's a blast.

I thought it was extremely refreshing to see a group of people doing this sort of thing, keeping a cool, positive attitude, not taking it all so seriously when appropriate to acknowledge the absurdity, but in other contexts: having a psuedo-professionalism in the instances of well-thought out ideas and intricate / innovated creation, and universally: being approachable and nice for the most part. I was really happy to see all of these different personalities intersect and balance so well. I wish that there were some more people attending and that I had played too (I never think that though), but it was hard to not feel extremely good about walking to the car at 11:30pm, when it was originally set to last until about 1:00am. I didn't spend nearly half or even a third of what I was expecting that I would have been tempted by via merch, but still left with some exciting new stuff to check out. Met and re-met a few nice people, got to check out a legit gallery and space that I've never been to before, was truly blown away by several of the performances and shared the experience with someone that I love. I feel as though it's safe to say that I may have enjoyed this night more than most anyone else in the building, and I'm grateful that my obsession of the fringe delivered us to that moment in time.

RANDOM CUTS - three summer 2009 7"s (Nominal)

2009-10-17T11:22:00.006-07:00

RANDOM CUTS -
“Rat Capacity b/w Destroyed” 7” (Nominal).
“Sleep / Jail Stripes” 7” (Nominal).
“Make Damage / Pigeon Park” 7” (Nominal).

I have had countless conversations with people from all over the world about how insanely impressed I am with the quality and productivity of Vancouver's scene (specifically revolving around bands: like Shearing Pinx, Twin Crystals, Mutators, Channels 3x4, Nu Sensae (amongst many many more), labels: like Isolated Now Waves, Deer + Bird Lathe Cuts, Grotesque Modern, and their spots to let it happen and be documented: The Emergency Room and the regular “Fake Jazz Wednesdays” at the Cobalt. Vancouver is the unspoken capital of modern no-wave, weirdo punk, gothy scuzzy soul music and the tons and tons (and tons) of solo projects and side bands that spawn from ever single “group”.

Some of these are people that I have come to know and love over the years, some are just casual friends who's work I adore, but seeing and playing with these bands in various places and frequently over the past few years, I have come to the conclusion that few places are as blessed have have such a plethora of specific energy. I'm not saying I think everything within the confines of their community is perfect. I'm sure (okay, I know) that there are “people problems” getting in the way up there too. However, I can not put enough emphasis on how important I believe the output from this huge group of people is. DIY feels most alive and well right there, and the participants scramble and support each other and crossover and bleed through each others bands and labels in a beautiful and noisy display of natural intersection. The pie graph would have too many layers and be entirely to dense to attempt to consume, and a linear connection scheme would ultimately end up looking like the cover to RANDOM CUTS' “Rat Capacity”.

All of that being said: this is the new solo project of Justin Gradin, who I met as the drummer from Mutators, which came through Phoenix a few times, unfortunately scoring under-attended shows, though playing with as much intensity (and volume) as if it was the most exciting living room full of people they had ever performed in front of. Mutators were very much part of that Vancouver crew, their music was grungy and noisy and they all had their own things going on outside of that project too. (In fact, Justin does the label Grotesque Modern). However, with Random Cuts, Justin has truly veered off the path a bit, in both sound and approach, and these three singles (as well as playing with / seeing him do this live at a show with Nu Sensae over the summer) have really made for something special.

These six songs are amongst the most “normal” and “accessible” from this community, and they speak a familiar language that is so heavily intertwined with all of the bizarre music that people like, it begins to become hard to point back to what it is that correlates. Is it pointing to the first few Wipers LPs? The earliest of the Murder City Devils material? (if you are in you're mid to late 20's, you'll understand how that would be a good thing). Nirvana? Sure, sure. Gritty, driving, somewhat dirty punk / rock, with riffs that make the songs just as memorable and solid as the vocals do, with the perfect aesthetics of all three really just driving it all home, just in time for sleep. (Honestly, these three singles all look incredible. I don't know how anyone could not want to buy these or at least be drawn in and way interested / temped by the artwork alone).

In the live setting, rather than just play along to pre-record tracks, Justin actually takes the time and space to drag along his band-mates, Mildred Smith and Elanor van Houten, who indeed are mannequins,... and not only do they adorn their own bass and guitar, but on the track that Elanor does the lead vocals on, he moves the mic over to where she is. Justin has been quoted as saying “I have learned that it is sometimes better to deal with plastic humans than real ones”, but there is so much going on here than just that. I think that Justin is in love, and I bet the three of these people had an extremely good time making these unbelievably perfect 7” layouts.

All three of these come highly recommended, as does virtually all of the Nominal catalog. Check them out here: NOMINAL RECORDS.

COTTON MUSEUM - “Pus Pustules” LP (Tasty Soil).

2009-10-11T20:38:00.007-07:00

Increasingly, I feel like there are fewer and fewer entities that I am constantly impressed with and therefore, always looking forward to hearing and seeing more from. One of those special exceptions is the collective output of Michigan artist Chris Pottinger. For quite awhile, Chris has been churning out a wide variety of noise and free-form releases with his projects: ODD CLOUDS and SLITHER, as well as COTTON MUSEUM as his solo machine for regurgitation creature creations. Some of these have found homes on important and valid labels such as Qbico, Ypsilanti and Not Not Fun, however, Chris also coordinates his own “label”, appropriately named TASTY SOIL, an umbrella for which his recordings and art (painting, pin collections, tote bags, ect) are kept dry until lucky consumers stumble on to their existence.

Chris has a very specific style, a beautiful and colorful species of creatures, who are quite often cartoonish intestinal extractions / boiled over brain masses, eyes bulged and drooping, slobbery flesh flowing onto the floor, and yet in this extremely appealing way that a child would undoubtedly find cute and approachable. I am 26 right now, I know what “Mad Balls” were. If you do too, imagine if those were tossed in the oven for awhile, and then repainted with brighter colors. ...I mean, maybe. More often than not (or: pretty much always), the records are adorned with these magical Michigan menaces.

Odd Clouds usually has a “big band”, free-form style feel to it, much like the finest moments of a strange Wooden Wand and the Vanishing Voice recording, and similar to what my own Tent/City project would frequently organically (de)construct. Slither usually has unhealthy dosages of reed / horn mass, with even unhealthier amounts of electronics / noise / signal destruction, though that's all circumstantial, and it's not like one thing might sound anything like another. Wasteland Jazz Unit comes to mind, as a similar idea and project.

Doing things alone always leave the most room for vagueness. Specifics as well. For me to enjoy the average “noise” recording, it needs to be of a particular style or with direct context, and Cotton Museum is easily the single most recognizable voice for Chris' army of diseased, infectious creatures. If you look at the covers for these various records, strewn across your bedroom floor, it becomes apparent that they have found their vehicle of communication in the grooves of the A-side of “Pus Pustules”, or any other Cotton Museum release.

Stuttering, churning, electronic chirps / mangled machine tones that speak the language of split stereo digestion, slicing through speakers and misfiring with precise calculation, and yet: this is also, in a way, lighthearted and fun, legitimately exciting and not exclusively harsh. “Pus Pustules” is not only housed in a five-color screen-printed cardboard fold-over, but it's 21 minute A-side is backed with an excellent etched B-side, offering yet an additional helping of hand-cut creatures doing their thing (you know, reaching, melting, floating, losing their eyeballs and looking insane and adorable simultaneously).

ECT: (I remember digging through Portland record stores the first time I was up there, trying to find a copy of the Odd Clouds LP like it was a cure for a cancer that only I had. It had just gone out of print after I put off picking it up, and luckily, Exiled had a copy. That was several years ago, and I'm glad that Chris is still active with his various projects and that labels from all over the world have been interested in documenting it ever since).

Check out TASTY SOIL: http://www.tastysoil.com/