More record reviews. Just what you were looking for. I know I said last time that there would only be one more of these posts, but the pile's gotten a bit heavy so we went ahead and broke things up. There will be another update of reviews shortly and then nothing on that front until they're in print for issue V. And what a doozy that issue's shaping up to be! More on that later. If you've sent anything in and don't see it here it will be in the next update. Thanks for your patience. And a bit of self-promotion, I've got a piece of fiction writing in the 2nd issue of UK-based quarterly journal The Newhaven Journeyman. There are four other loosely connected short stories that will be serialized in this journal, then I plan to release them on my own in a collection with animation provided by Philadelphia artist Michael Gerkovich, but that won't be happening anytime soon. For info. and order go here: http://www.eleusinianpress.co.uk. Hope everyone on the East Coast is making out alright. Fuck Sandy. Stay sick.
Agitation Free Malesch (Made in Germany)
Agitation Free's 1972 debut long play has long been a Kraut favorite in my living quarters and, I believe, occupies a distinct station among the highly varied and vaunted catalog of 70's German experimental Rock. With its alluring blend of (for the time) exotic musical traditions of Egypt, Greece and Cyprus with (for the time) relatively standard jammy Euro Prog via tight tape editing, often it is as if these long hairs have hypnotized the Sphinx herself into flicking the listener's bean by way of their heavy Heine grooves. There's so much going on in this record yet it never sounds crowded; each idea gets room to breath and field recordings are subtely added to the bigger picture seamlessly. It always kills me how artfully commencing "You Play For Us Today" fades into the open air market of "Sahara City", which then itself morphs into this incredible mix Van der Graaf Generator, cosmic Kosmische and something Sublime Frequencies would drool over decades later. It's just so ahead of its time. Things do threaten to become a bit stagnant on the title track, but just when boredom is about to set in the succint riffing of "Rucksturz" asserts its dominance and shop is closed up winningly. When it comes down to it, atmosphere is one of the most important components to musical enjoyment, and AF's first has got a specific feel to it that very few other records have replicated successfully. Main turkey Lutz 'Lüül' Graf-Ulbrich went on to play in Ash Ra during their New Age period after Agiation Free disbanded in the mid 70's. Made in Germany appear to be legit and also did the band's second album, which I haven't picked up yet and have never heard in any other form. My only gripe is slightly altered/uglified artwork to both (Why?). Otherwise, a total no brainer.
Derek Bailey Improvisation (Mupymup)
Agitation Free Malesch (Made in Germany)
Agitation Free's 1972 debut long play has long been a Kraut favorite in my living quarters and, I believe, occupies a distinct station among the highly varied and vaunted catalog of 70's German experimental Rock. With its alluring blend of (for the time) exotic musical traditions of Egypt, Greece and Cyprus with (for the time) relatively standard jammy Euro Prog via tight tape editing, often it is as if these long hairs have hypnotized the Sphinx herself into flicking the listener's bean by way of their heavy Heine grooves. There's so much going on in this record yet it never sounds crowded; each idea gets room to breath and field recordings are subtely added to the bigger picture seamlessly. It always kills me how artfully commencing "You Play For Us Today" fades into the open air market of "Sahara City", which then itself morphs into this incredible mix Van der Graaf Generator, cosmic Kosmische and something Sublime Frequencies would drool over decades later. It's just so ahead of its time. Things do threaten to become a bit stagnant on the title track, but just when boredom is about to set in the succint riffing of "Rucksturz" asserts its dominance and shop is closed up winningly. When it comes down to it, atmosphere is one of the most important components to musical enjoyment, and AF's first has got a specific feel to it that very few other records have replicated successfully. Main turkey Lutz 'Lüül' Graf-Ulbrich went on to play in Ash Ra during their New Age period after Agiation Free disbanded in the mid 70's. Made in Germany appear to be legit and also did the band's second album, which I haven't picked up yet and have never heard in any other form. My only gripe is slightly altered/uglified artwork to both (Why?). Otherwise, a total no brainer.
Derek Bailey Improvisation (Mupymup)
Been on a big Derek Bailey kick coincidentally, Solo Guitar, Aida, Topography..., and The London Concert all getting the buisness, and this 1975 solo album originally issued on legendary Italian Prog/Avant Garde label Cramps is a fine addition to the party above. I hate using this word when describing music, not only because I find it douche-y and academic, but because I also don't believe it's accurate in most cases, but with Bailey it really is fitting to call his work "challenging". And not challenging in the same way as say, Keith Rowe. Although Rowe may not treat his insturment as conventionally as Bailey does, you can usually kind of immerse yourself in his work and let it wash over you. I mean more challenging in the way of early Whitehouse. That is to say, "structurally challenging." There is not much to hold onto in both Bailey's playing and something like Birthdeath Experience; the listener is forced to either dismiss it on whatever grounds he chooses, or pay attention to the complex details and gradual changes. And I think that both artists have similar uses of space in music (bet Bennett is/was a big Webern fan too). I find it hard to reconcile why I enjoy a lot of both their work, but it's also what makes them fascinating to me. This album in particular is a nice intro to Bailey. The title tells you what he's all about fur one, and this was a good year for him, as he was just getting Musics off the ground with other champions of free-improv. I don't necessarily believe there're any Universal Truths to be found in improvisational music, but records like this certainly prove something. It also boasts some of the best sound quality of his early recordings, so one gets to hear his shrapnel-style plucking and lingering single notes, enhanced by signature double stereo pedal, in true mid-fi glory. There's a point maybe a qtr. of the way through the second side where Bailey goes on a rapid fire tangent and I'm reminded of the piano runs of Cecil Taylor or those brief, transcendent moments that seem to occur in the best Iannis Xenakis pieces where, after a bit of aimless electronic noodling, everything comes together into an incredibly powerful mass of sound. In many ways, this is what Derek Bailey did with a guitar. Improvisation has been reissued more than any Bailey title I belive, and this pressing sounds fantastic (very loud!) and features a sharp printed inner of Bailey in action, looking like your racist uncle. Winner winner chicken dinner.
Boomgates Double Natural (Bedroom Suck)
All I knew of Boomgates before hearing this record was that it was Brendan-the guy in Eddy Current who wears driving gloves and has similar mannerisms to an individual with Aspergers-'s Indie Pop project. It doesn't seem fair that someone so attractive and charming should be able to make music that is basically targeted towards bookish girls who wear cardigans and big glasses (and the creeps who lust after them). How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?! This guy should be condemned to sing in a Murder Junkies cover band for the rest of his life, he'd still be more appealing to women than me. So right there I'm pretty biased, plus Indie Pop sucks, but whatever, I'll listen to it. And upon doing so I've more or less reinforced the notion that this stuff just isn't for me. It's not that it's too polite or accessible because trust me, I'm not just sitting around blasting How Could Hardcore be any Worse? and Gary Mundy side-projects all day, I like plenty of fay shit. It's just that these songs aren't very interesting. The opening downtempo strumming of "Flood Plains" actually got my hopes up initially, as things sounded pretty mature and the flimsy/cutesy K Records vibe I was expecting was nowhere to be found. Puerile lyrics aside Huntley's voice sounded great too, but then the female singer comes in and totally mucks things up. This pattern is basically followed for the remaining nine songs to my displeasure. On their own, neither vocalist is bad, but they compliment each other so poorly it sounds like a fuckin' Evens record or something. Some tracks are definitely more successful, possessing a tempered Bird Dog-era Verlaines "warmth" to them (fuckin' Christ I don't know how to talk about these kinds of records), but most of the time things are far from memorable. The hooks are nonexistent and they could be any one of thousands of bands hoping to get onto the soundtrack of Michael Cera's next flick. Even if the appeal escapes me, there are surely many adult-contemporary Indie fans who have secure jobs and lead respectable, informed lives that probably dream about this kinda shit, so eh...eh...there's that I guess?
The Bowels S/T E.P. (Kye)
Boomgates Double Natural (Bedroom Suck)
All I knew of Boomgates before hearing this record was that it was Brendan-the guy in Eddy Current who wears driving gloves and has similar mannerisms to an individual with Aspergers-'s Indie Pop project. It doesn't seem fair that someone so attractive and charming should be able to make music that is basically targeted towards bookish girls who wear cardigans and big glasses (and the creeps who lust after them). How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?! This guy should be condemned to sing in a Murder Junkies cover band for the rest of his life, he'd still be more appealing to women than me. So right there I'm pretty biased, plus Indie Pop sucks, but whatever, I'll listen to it. And upon doing so I've more or less reinforced the notion that this stuff just isn't for me. It's not that it's too polite or accessible because trust me, I'm not just sitting around blasting How Could Hardcore be any Worse? and Gary Mundy side-projects all day, I like plenty of fay shit. It's just that these songs aren't very interesting. The opening downtempo strumming of "Flood Plains" actually got my hopes up initially, as things sounded pretty mature and the flimsy/cutesy K Records vibe I was expecting was nowhere to be found. Puerile lyrics aside Huntley's voice sounded great too, but then the female singer comes in and totally mucks things up. This pattern is basically followed for the remaining nine songs to my displeasure. On their own, neither vocalist is bad, but they compliment each other so poorly it sounds like a fuckin' Evens record or something. Some tracks are definitely more successful, possessing a tempered Bird Dog-era Verlaines "warmth" to them (fuckin' Christ I don't know how to talk about these kinds of records), but most of the time things are far from memorable. The hooks are nonexistent and they could be any one of thousands of bands hoping to get onto the soundtrack of Michael Cera's next flick. Even if the appeal escapes me, there are surely many adult-contemporary Indie fans who have secure jobs and lead respectable, informed lives that probably dream about this kinda shit, so eh...eh...there's that I guess?
A sort of follow-up to the very enjoyable Vincent Over the Sink E.P. from last year, this here's the Bowels first, and I gather only, vinyl commitment. I loved how the former band's record was able to capture this really discernible sense of isolation and longing, it being a brief, mysterious document that both looks and sounds like some forgotten relic of the early industrial era (when things were still far from being codified) that would surely go for a lot of money were it released in 1982. The Bowels, which feature Mary Macdougall alongside Vincet's Matt Hopkins (notably of Naked on the Vague as well) and the departed Christopher Schueler, were able to capture similarly queasy notions of lost hope here, but in a more brittle Rock/Folk context. The record consists of four short songs and two minimal tape excursions, existing somewhere along the lines of A to Austr on a tight budget or Tall Dwarfs if they dodged melodic cohesion like it was a leper. "Fortune Song" has a wonderfully inept Macdougall vocal line that sounds like if Charely Gocher were an Australian broad, and gets the whole room cracking up in a sort of Fugs at 3 A.M. style, while a track like "Worrywart" is almost as if Heitkotter tried his hand at introspective SSW, such is the stumbling, threadbare nature of the song in all its early morning glory. Only 350 pressed and sold out at the source, but there should still be some floating around from your usual suspects awhile longer.
Cuntz Aloha (Homeless)
Hmmm where to start with this one? A band named "Cuntz" from (you guessed it!) Australia, with an album title denoting nothing in particular and cover art resembling a cross between Exit Dreams and a record that'd be on display at Urban Outfitters. Really had no idea what to expect going in, but can't say I was thrown for many loops at any point during this Melbourne band's debut. Their sound takes cues from a fairly wide array of heavy Punk, dating from both the pre-and-post Grunge era, but it's the kind of exercise in pastiche you could play for anyone familiar with generally aggressive music to probably no reaction at all. With the simple but tight drum pummeling and a controlled mess of a riff on opening (possibly label theme?) "Homeless" I figured Aloha would be a very Nirvana/Jesus Lizard-inflicted experience, but then about a third of the way through a synth is introduced, though for what purpose I really couldn't say. Lazy comparison, but it sounds like a less passable Pop. 1280. Towards the end a high point is reached in "Hoonin'", when the band dumbs things down to reflect similar musical ethos as those employed by such ancestors as the Cosmic Psychos, and if you squint during the hazy monotony of closing "Mum" (well it would be last song if they didn't throw some stupid birthday joke thing in there) I swear you can see Bobby Soxx sticking a mic up his butt. Wish they would have explored those approaches more. In essence, the problem with this album is the same one that plagues the vast majority of disposable modern (and old) music; it's not that it is bad, it's just bland. There's no style to the thing, no commitment and nothing that conveys a cohesive idea of how to make am inciting piece of art (or anti-art). All it really suggests is 3-5 people, mostly likely white, male and in their early-to-late twenties, who have a reasonably competent sense of how to play their instruments and write convincing, albeit unadventurous, songs in a manner that is on the surface similar to a style they themselves enjoy, possibly in order to escape the menial boredoms of everyday life. There is certainly nothing offensive about such a proposition, but in terms of giving this album a reason to exist or anyone a reason to listen to it, I personally couldn't find one. It really highlights the difference with successful executions of the style, such as that found in...
Degreaser Sweaty Hands (Negative Guest List)
...this band right here! Hey, look what I did, even worked out alphabetically! I was in no small way a fan of Degreaser's debut Bottom Feeder, but all the same it kinda got buried under the pile until I heard about this new one. So this record has not only given me reason to dig that back out again for re-evaluation (results: it still kills), but also to compare the two, as is wont to happen when considering a unit with a currently-small discography. After a few back to back sessions I gotta say Sweaty Hands is taking the cacophony featured on the debut in all the right places. If we can extrapolate from the sounds on this thing not much has changed for the gang, but they reign things in for a tighter, bleaker, and more focused squall (and they still aren't interested in printing song titles, lyrics or any info. period anywhere on their product). The (very bad) trip down the rabbit hole persists, but its focus is shifted towards a slightly-leaner, even darker ambiance. Bass and drums bounce off each other in a frightening parody of a minimal-blues band, kinda like Raven ditchin' Ohio for Kim Salmon's "Swampland", while lead guitar slinger/vocalist Tim Evans layers sheet upon sheet of feedback 'til he's got one hell of a groggy, stumbling Heavy Liquid. Degreaser seem like a band dedicated to a consistent atmosphere, one that they may have not fully created themselves, yet exist in very naturally, and I think that is part of what makes them work (and bands such as the one reviewed above not). Everything about their presentation screams a collective exception of defeat. There's no sense of pity for themselves or anyone else, no attempts to shock or amuse (though at times they are legitimately hilarious. Stare at the cover of the previous LP for a minute 'til you figure out what it is for evidence), just a very loud and calloused blank stare at reality. Why the fuck have I still not heard Bird Blobs?
Helm Impossible Symmetry (Pan)
Helm's last two LP's were undeniably among the best unclassifiable exp. music of recent vintage (but I wouldn't claim to be keeping track all that well). Luke Younger, though his work in the duo Birds of Delay never did much for me, managed to tap into some very inviting sound worlds that harkened back to the merger of early industrial, dark ambient and sound poetry, making recognizable and memorable albums in a genre which seems to lend itself quite often to shortsightedness, ambiguity and a glut of ill-conceived concepts/releases. Impossible Symmetry is his third long playing effort on vinyl and first for shite-hawt Berlin-based Pan, and it continues in this fashion. It offers five pieces all varying in atmosphere and reference, though bursting with well-considered ideas. While last year's (very good) Cryptography mostly explored crumbling organic sound worlds, and the preceding year's (heard it after the 2nd LP, but even better) To an End combined mangled field recordings with compositional drone, this album, although recognizable as a continuation of the previous two, is both more fleshed-out and disjointed. On the first maybe 2/3's of the album synthetic, rhythmic noise prevails, but just when things start getting a bit stale, the masterful pacing of sparse "Arcane Matters" hits, dragging the listener under tow with little more than a 4/4 bell ring and blended voices. Followed by a couple uncomfortable minutes of "Stained Glass Electric" that seriously sound like fuckin' Uncommunity or something, before ending on a near-PINA excursion in "Above all and Beyond", it's clear that Younger made a conscious effort to never sit still too long on this one. What has consistently separated Helm from his peers has been a keen sense of composition, editing and history. Contemporary Noise guys frontin' like they're Avant Garde are a dime a dozen, but truth be told I couldn't pick most of their work out of a line up. Helm sounds like Helm, and that's all too rare. As is typical with the Pan catalog, thing has great mastering, classy packaging and a price-tag that reflects it, but you get what you pay for both musically and visually.
Hmmm where to start with this one? A band named "Cuntz" from (you guessed it!) Australia, with an album title denoting nothing in particular and cover art resembling a cross between Exit Dreams and a record that'd be on display at Urban Outfitters. Really had no idea what to expect going in, but can't say I was thrown for many loops at any point during this Melbourne band's debut. Their sound takes cues from a fairly wide array of heavy Punk, dating from both the pre-and-post Grunge era, but it's the kind of exercise in pastiche you could play for anyone familiar with generally aggressive music to probably no reaction at all. With the simple but tight drum pummeling and a controlled mess of a riff on opening (possibly label theme?) "Homeless" I figured Aloha would be a very Nirvana/Jesus Lizard-inflicted experience, but then about a third of the way through a synth is introduced, though for what purpose I really couldn't say. Lazy comparison, but it sounds like a less passable Pop. 1280. Towards the end a high point is reached in "Hoonin'", when the band dumbs things down to reflect similar musical ethos as those employed by such ancestors as the Cosmic Psychos, and if you squint during the hazy monotony of closing "Mum" (well it would be last song if they didn't throw some stupid birthday joke thing in there) I swear you can see Bobby Soxx sticking a mic up his butt. Wish they would have explored those approaches more. In essence, the problem with this album is the same one that plagues the vast majority of disposable modern (and old) music; it's not that it is bad, it's just bland. There's no style to the thing, no commitment and nothing that conveys a cohesive idea of how to make am inciting piece of art (or anti-art). All it really suggests is 3-5 people, mostly likely white, male and in their early-to-late twenties, who have a reasonably competent sense of how to play their instruments and write convincing, albeit unadventurous, songs in a manner that is on the surface similar to a style they themselves enjoy, possibly in order to escape the menial boredoms of everyday life. There is certainly nothing offensive about such a proposition, but in terms of giving this album a reason to exist or anyone a reason to listen to it, I personally couldn't find one. It really highlights the difference with successful executions of the style, such as that found in...
Degreaser Sweaty Hands (Negative Guest List)
...this band right here! Hey, look what I did, even worked out alphabetically! I was in no small way a fan of Degreaser's debut Bottom Feeder, but all the same it kinda got buried under the pile until I heard about this new one. So this record has not only given me reason to dig that back out again for re-evaluation (results: it still kills), but also to compare the two, as is wont to happen when considering a unit with a currently-small discography. After a few back to back sessions I gotta say Sweaty Hands is taking the cacophony featured on the debut in all the right places. If we can extrapolate from the sounds on this thing not much has changed for the gang, but they reign things in for a tighter, bleaker, and more focused squall (and they still aren't interested in printing song titles, lyrics or any info. period anywhere on their product). The (very bad) trip down the rabbit hole persists, but its focus is shifted towards a slightly-leaner, even darker ambiance. Bass and drums bounce off each other in a frightening parody of a minimal-blues band, kinda like Raven ditchin' Ohio for Kim Salmon's "Swampland", while lead guitar slinger/vocalist Tim Evans layers sheet upon sheet of feedback 'til he's got one hell of a groggy, stumbling Heavy Liquid. Degreaser seem like a band dedicated to a consistent atmosphere, one that they may have not fully created themselves, yet exist in very naturally, and I think that is part of what makes them work (and bands such as the one reviewed above not). Everything about their presentation screams a collective exception of defeat. There's no sense of pity for themselves or anyone else, no attempts to shock or amuse (though at times they are legitimately hilarious. Stare at the cover of the previous LP for a minute 'til you figure out what it is for evidence), just a very loud and calloused blank stare at reality. Why the fuck have I still not heard Bird Blobs?
Helm's last two LP's were undeniably among the best unclassifiable exp. music of recent vintage (but I wouldn't claim to be keeping track all that well). Luke Younger, though his work in the duo Birds of Delay never did much for me, managed to tap into some very inviting sound worlds that harkened back to the merger of early industrial, dark ambient and sound poetry, making recognizable and memorable albums in a genre which seems to lend itself quite often to shortsightedness, ambiguity and a glut of ill-conceived concepts/releases. Impossible Symmetry is his third long playing effort on vinyl and first for shite-hawt Berlin-based Pan, and it continues in this fashion. It offers five pieces all varying in atmosphere and reference, though bursting with well-considered ideas. While last year's (very good) Cryptography mostly explored crumbling organic sound worlds, and the preceding year's (heard it after the 2nd LP, but even better) To an End combined mangled field recordings with compositional drone, this album, although recognizable as a continuation of the previous two, is both more fleshed-out and disjointed. On the first maybe 2/3's of the album synthetic, rhythmic noise prevails, but just when things start getting a bit stale, the masterful pacing of sparse "Arcane Matters" hits, dragging the listener under tow with little more than a 4/4 bell ring and blended voices. Followed by a couple uncomfortable minutes of "Stained Glass Electric" that seriously sound like fuckin' Uncommunity or something, before ending on a near-PINA excursion in "Above all and Beyond", it's clear that Younger made a conscious effort to never sit still too long on this one. What has consistently separated Helm from his peers has been a keen sense of composition, editing and history. Contemporary Noise guys frontin' like they're Avant Garde are a dime a dozen, but truth be told I couldn't pick most of their work out of a line up. Helm sounds like Helm, and that's all too rare. As is typical with the Pan catalog, thing has great mastering, classy packaging and a price-tag that reflects it, but you get what you pay for both musically and visually.
Kenneth Higney "Funky Kinky" b/w "I Wanna be King" (One Kind Favor)
Much to the man's embarrassment, many are familiar with Higney's fabled Attic Demonstrations, which was also reissued a year or so ago by One Kind Favor. This 1980 single that was actually intended for commercial release flys a bit more under-the-radar (at least I had no clue it existed), and if the demos were meant to give the listener a taste of Kenny, than his official songs are the Christmas ham. And what a delicious, weird ham it is! "Funky Kinky" is Higney's come on to the ladiez, and as its title might suggest, a rather raunchy one at that. Clean guitars noodle, head-stockless bass throbs and a synth squeals with no real attention to timing while Higney lays it down HARD, not asking the gurls what to do but telling 'em (don't take that the wrong way though, when it's Kenny behind the wheel everything is consensual). I think he may be going for an early Prince vibe but ends up in his own warped boogie/porn-Psych universe, and is all the better for it. "I Wanna be the King" is Higney's ode to the Bowery scene of late 70's NYC, and it's merger of Real People with Fake Punk might even be more bizarre than the A-side. Describing the music is useless, as it once again surpasses whatever humble mark originally aimed for, but it is important to understand what Higney wants to be (the king, a star, a Dead Boy, a Heartbreaker, drunk on whiskey at a dirty Downtown bar), as well as the societal conventions he asperses (among them: marriage, Chevrolets, the sissy music of John "Den-var"), to grasp his one of a kind worldview. Sometimes people get up-in-arms about these kind of records, how they're musically unlistenable and simply a case of audience-laughing-at-artist. I certainly agree it's queer to be all "OMFG this record is so funny what kinda freak could make this shit!" 'cos the fact that something's "out there" doesn't make it good. But with Higney that is not the case. His music is not only charming, but also intentionally/unintentionally hilarious, border-line genius and just a good time all around. Real talk-if you can't get down with this you may be a self-serious dweeb.
Much to the man's embarrassment, many are familiar with Higney's fabled Attic Demonstrations, which was also reissued a year or so ago by One Kind Favor. This 1980 single that was actually intended for commercial release flys a bit more under-the-radar (at least I had no clue it existed), and if the demos were meant to give the listener a taste of Kenny, than his official songs are the Christmas ham. And what a delicious, weird ham it is! "Funky Kinky" is Higney's come on to the ladiez, and as its title might suggest, a rather raunchy one at that. Clean guitars noodle, head-stockless bass throbs and a synth squeals with no real attention to timing while Higney lays it down HARD, not asking the gurls what to do but telling 'em (don't take that the wrong way though, when it's Kenny behind the wheel everything is consensual). I think he may be going for an early Prince vibe but ends up in his own warped boogie/porn-Psych universe, and is all the better for it. "I Wanna be the King" is Higney's ode to the Bowery scene of late 70's NYC, and it's merger of Real People with Fake Punk might even be more bizarre than the A-side. Describing the music is useless, as it once again surpasses whatever humble mark originally aimed for, but it is important to understand what Higney wants to be (the king, a star, a Dead Boy, a Heartbreaker, drunk on whiskey at a dirty Downtown bar), as well as the societal conventions he asperses (among them: marriage, Chevrolets, the sissy music of John "Den-var"), to grasp his one of a kind worldview. Sometimes people get up-in-arms about these kind of records, how they're musically unlistenable and simply a case of audience-laughing-at-artist. I certainly agree it's queer to be all "OMFG this record is so funny what kinda freak could make this shit!" 'cos the fact that something's "out there" doesn't make it good. But with Higney that is not the case. His music is not only charming, but also intentionally/unintentionally hilarious, border-line genius and just a good time all around. Real talk-if you can't get down with this you may be a self-serious dweeb.
Null and Void Possibilties(Discoverable Thoughts) (Bunker Pop)
Quite a story on this 'un, which I believe follows more or less as thus: A few years ago venerable peddler of atypical musical rarities in mp3 form, Mutant Sounds, posts the two E.P.s released by obscure Southern Californian Synth/Post-Punk act Null and Void in their day. They were summarily contacted by members of the band as well as those who knew them, and were informed of an unreleased LP that had been turned down in '83 by all who were approached with it, then given permission to upload it. Three years on (and near 30 since its recording) and Bunker Pop gives it a proper home on wax with this fantastic package, including extensively detailed liners on the back of a gigantic poster. As for the album's sound, it is a rather desirable blend of early 80s cassette underground moves, incredibly strange Operatic vocals by mastermind of the project William Shifflette, Chrome-plated dystopian future visions and short, bright bursts of Art School Pop. Quite a bit to wrap one's head around, really. I remember DL'ing this when first posted, loving it, then kind of forgetting about it, only to re-discover and be floored when randomly flipping through the iPod and scratching my head as to who the hell Null and Void were. If there's anything resembling a "hit" on here, "The Philosophy Song" is it, gradually luring the listener in with lush Synth ambiance and supressed instrumental before exploding into three mintues of twisted Pop perfection, in a similar vein to so many great Gilbert/Lewis one-offs. That this could be followed with the exploratory dynamics of "Aubrey Beardsley!", a cut that sounds like NON made by respectable individuals, showcases the true breadth of Shifflette and co.'s craft. In turn, they don't always hit the mark (the bouncy Wave/Circus Music "Our New Life" is a truly abismal product of its time), but you gotta give it to 'em for not holding back. Bunker Pop bats 2:2 (they were also responsible for that great Coitus Int. reissue awhile back), proving that although rare in occurance, life occassionally does produce happy endings outside of wish-washy environs'.
Bernard Parmegiani L'Oeil Ecoute/Dedans-Dehors (Recollections GRM)
Here's a release from the second batch of INA/GRM reissues on this subisdiary/series of the Mego empire, the first of which consisted of an uncharacteristic synth piece by Pierre Shaeffer and a great record by Guy Reibel, neither of which I'm gonna bother proprely reviewing 'cos they came out a while ago and who the fuck cares what I think of Musique Concrete reissues anyway? I'm also not gonna review the other record released in conjuction with this one (a comp. of material recorded in the INA/GRM studio btw 1960-70 called Traces One), 'cos I didn't buy the damn thing these 'lil shits are madd expensive and I'm not a rich shithead like you, you rotten trust-fund fuck. I bet it's good too, but it seemed less essential by description. Hey so this rec. by good ole' veal Parmegiani, let's discuss OK? It's two pieces, first from '70 and second from '77, each released in some form (though never side by side) on INA/GRM, which was the label associated with Groupe de Recherche Musicales, a sort of Justice League-esque organization of Avant Frog composers who studied acousmatic music under Shaeffer, and of which the composer in question was a notable 2nd generation member. First up is, what in the King's English would read "The Eye is Listening", and from Parm's notes the theoretical basis of it lie in trying to transfer the act of seeing into hearing and vice versa. It starts off with the same sound source Shaeffer infamously used many years earlier, train tracks, before focusing mostly on heavily processed and obscured electronic tinkering. It has certainly got its moments but slightly meandering at times. The real meat (or again, veal) of this record comes on side two, or "Inside Outside", which is actually quite telling of a title, as it juxtaposes beautifully recorded electronics with non-musical sources to create an environment where the two become inextricably linked. This is done through meticulous editing and an instinctive knack for the perfect blend. Very listenable and musical, escaping the "Hey, look at this 15 ft. tall synth I set up to reverberate into the carcass of a giant Sperm Whale! Now listen to me twist knobs on it with no real rhyme or reason for 20+ min." trap this type of muisc can sometimes fall into. On deck's a twofer from Luc Ferrari and some bull named Ivo Malec. If the quality remains this high than keep 'em coming please!
Eliane Radigue Feedback Works 1969-1970 (Alga Marghen)
The old line about Radigue is that she came up studying technique under the guidance of Pierre Shaeffer and assisted Pierre Henry in the 60s, then eventually started incorporating the influence of American Minimalists like La Monte and Steve Reich into her work, which disconcerted her Concrete buddies a bit, but they eventually accepted it as that of their own. Hey, I wasn't there, what do I know? In fact, Adnos I-III and Jouet Electronique/Elemental I are quite recent favorites over in my neighborhood, but that only makes this sprawling 2xLP set on Italy's fine (and pricey) Alga Marghen label all the more welcome. Side 1 starts off with two shorter cutz, "Stress-Osaka" (low frequency tones fighting for domination over popping electronic circuit bend) and "Usral" (almost vocal chant-sounding acoustic phenomena, with electronic surges and tone-interplay throughout). A fantastic warm up, showcasing Radigue's adept control of these sounds even when not stretching things to mammoth, patience-testing lengths, as well as the diversity she was able to achieve with such a minimal set up. Side two is the masterful "Omnht" which is maybe the most compositional and traditionally musical of the works, and the most powerful. Basically a distant sort of siren is repeatedly sounded while organic pulsing, or "purring" as Radigue herself calls it, unravels underneath. Although the means to achieve them were different it is reminiscent of the great Folk Rabe piece from '68 and later Organum recordings. No bullshit, it gets so rhythmic towards the end it starts to approach proto-minimal Techno! The second LP is dominated by two different mixes of "Vice-Versa, Etc...", sounding like early prototypes for the Buddhist-inspired long form drones that were to come after Radigue's return to music in the early 80's, though they lack the dynamics that made both her later recordings, as well as those featured on the first LP, really entrancing. Comes with a lengthly booklet featuring plenty of info. about the recording process, an interview from 2011, and some archival photos of her looking hott as fuckk. Expensive for sure, but totally worth it if you're looking for sparse Electo-Acoustic study that'll make you pay attention to life, rather than put you to sleep.
Eliane Radigue Feedback Works 1969-1970 (Alga Marghen)
The old line about Radigue is that she came up studying technique under the guidance of Pierre Shaeffer and assisted Pierre Henry in the 60s, then eventually started incorporating the influence of American Minimalists like La Monte and Steve Reich into her work, which disconcerted her Concrete buddies a bit, but they eventually accepted it as that of their own. Hey, I wasn't there, what do I know? In fact, Adnos I-III and Jouet Electronique/Elemental I are quite recent favorites over in my neighborhood, but that only makes this sprawling 2xLP set on Italy's fine (and pricey) Alga Marghen label all the more welcome. Side 1 starts off with two shorter cutz, "Stress-Osaka" (low frequency tones fighting for domination over popping electronic circuit bend) and "Usral" (almost vocal chant-sounding acoustic phenomena, with electronic surges and tone-interplay throughout). A fantastic warm up, showcasing Radigue's adept control of these sounds even when not stretching things to mammoth, patience-testing lengths, as well as the diversity she was able to achieve with such a minimal set up. Side two is the masterful "Omnht" which is maybe the most compositional and traditionally musical of the works, and the most powerful. Basically a distant sort of siren is repeatedly sounded while organic pulsing, or "purring" as Radigue herself calls it, unravels underneath. Although the means to achieve them were different it is reminiscent of the great Folk Rabe piece from '68 and later Organum recordings. No bullshit, it gets so rhythmic towards the end it starts to approach proto-minimal Techno! The second LP is dominated by two different mixes of "Vice-Versa, Etc...", sounding like early prototypes for the Buddhist-inspired long form drones that were to come after Radigue's return to music in the early 80's, though they lack the dynamics that made both her later recordings, as well as those featured on the first LP, really entrancing. Comes with a lengthly booklet featuring plenty of info. about the recording process, an interview from 2011, and some archival photos of her looking hott as fuckk. Expensive for sure, but totally worth it if you're looking for sparse Electo-Acoustic study that'll make you pay attention to life, rather than put you to sleep.
Brooklyn-based Quemada have been a fervent importer of Australian goods since a while now, giving some of the continent's less assuming bands a proper shake stateside, and they struck gold with this, the debut vinyl appearance of Melbourne's Satanic Rockers. A-side stomper "Eviction" is the kind of left field ode to bad taste one flips endlessly, possessing at times both a gonzo ineptitude and stunted genius that brings to mind what a mating session 'twixt members of the Prats and Flipper might sound (and look) like. Yikes, I think that might be illegal in most countries! With lines like "This is my home/Satan's pleasure dome" and a closing solo that would make David Welsch proud, it's just the kind of stupidity my ears constantly pine for, and reason enough to keep purchasing contemporary Punk singles when very few are up to snuff. After producing such a song they could have etched a personal diatribe on the B-side about how bad my coffee-breath is in the morning and I'd still go to bat for them, but no, they pressed the wonderfully-titled "Rat versus Boredom" on there instead. According to the notes it's from a different session, or "bedroom rehearsal made late in 2011 with zero overdubs", and well, it sounds so. It's apparent that these Rockers know how to put together a single well, as this cut lets the A-side shine like the malformed beauty it is, offering a somewhat mannered comedown that, in the process, is still one of the better songs I've heard all year. Being prone to musical speculation as I am (and having the 540 re-ish within eye sight), I'll go out on a limb and say that if the members of the Young Identities started weening themselves on Mark Perry's goo 'stead of Cave/Curtis's after they broke up, the Kicks woulda sounded something similar to this side. If these two are any indication of the forthcoming album on Albert's Basement I'll stick a banana in my neighbors tail-pipe.
Shadow Ring Remains Unchanged (Kye)
It goes without saying that two LPs worth of unreleased Shadow Ring recordings spanning the group's entire existence and mastered by Jason Lescalleet is about as exciting a proposition as anything, music-related or otherwise, for the manager of this here blog space, and gets the highest recommendation around. I imagine anyone reading my prattle is quite familiar with the musical going-ons of Darren Harris, Graham Lambkin, and Tim Goss circa 1993-2003, but what makes this set so great is that one gets an alternate history of the band, essentially being subjected to their brilliant trajectory all over again. It is often noted that the Shadow Ring had one of the all time great musical developments. Far from existing in a vacuum, there were always references to be cited, and the band has been nothing if not forthcoming of acknowledging them in the years since their end. What seperates Shadow Ring from the pack, however, and indeed relegates them to an all time favorite for me, is the way they swallowed influences up and made them conform to their own world. Nascent Godz reverence from the A-side's City Lights sessions never exactly gets tossed as the band goes on, however, it is thrown into the pot alongside the likes of progressive Psych-Folk Jan Dukes de Gray, a decidedly British take on Robert Ashley's American theatrical works during the start of their Swill Radio run and a nod to Ashley's bud Alvin Lucier with the sound dismantling of side 4, dedicated entirely to outtakes from the band's final (and if pressed to choose, I'd say best) album I'm Some Songs. They also proved, more so than any band in history (yes, really), that knowing how to play one's instruments properly is not important as long as the vision is sound. Right from the beginning they were acutely aware of what they wanted to do, and no lack of musicianship stopped them from accomplishing it. The best feature of Remains Unchanged, however, is that one needs none of such context to appreciate it. It functions as a completely coherent overview, right from the opening tidbit of John Peel (r.i.p.) proclaiming his bewildered fixation towards the band's debut, to when they literally commit group suicide on tape during the second disc's closing, pulling their collective insides out for anyone who cares to hear.
Sprot "Summer of Sprot" (Wormwood Grasshopper)
Mysterious records showing up on my door step are always a welcome occurrence. When I saw a return address from Tasmania that looked familiar on this and "WG 004" on the label I had high hopes, seeing as Wormwood Grasshopper haven't had an egg yet out of their previous three. My hopes got REAL high when I threw what I thought to be the A-side down and shards of sound that got me thinking "Doden if they stole M.B.'s loops" started coming out of the speakers, as that is more or less what I wish every record I ever owned sounded like. Then I looked at the tiny insert that came with the thing and relaized I 'twas playing the B-side, which is supposed to be at 33 rpm. Also learned from it that the players on here were familiar ones, Matt Earle (of a million other worthwhile combos) and Adam Park, who plays in some of those other worthwhile combos with him. So not much of a mystery why this is good anymore. Played at the correct speed, the B-side is a little less jarring, but it still holds up well, and I think the M.B. comparison remains valid (specifcally his earlier, harsher stuff). A-side's got one foot in Rock and one in Noise (but is not "Noise Rock"), cooking up a nice raga feel w/ bass and drums under what I believe is guitar-created feedback. Sorta brings to mind what a Kennelmus on Come Org. might sound like, or if Electronic Hole really did record in, well, an electronic hole of sorts. 'Nother winner from this crew which have yet to let me down, and further goes to illuminate the difference between interesting musicians connected to a wide variety of Australian groups and ones like...
Straight Arrows "First 2 7"s" (Anti Fade)
...those featured in this band. Look! I did it again! Crazy how things just line up like this. I'm not trying to be hard on these guys or talk shit, but I just never found the likes of Circle Pit, Ruined Fortune, somebody from Royal Headache maybe? (or some other R.I.P. Society-associated act) to be very interesting, or even worthy of exploration. Much as those bands have elicited not much more than indifference though I'd rather give them a crack than these here Straight Arrows. They sure is "straight" 'far as sound is concerned, maybe even "square", but isn't all modern Garage? This record, which is a comp. of an OOP debut 7" and subsequent split 7", hits just about all the signposts of the genre. It's got crummy recording, short, sorta energetic songs and not a whole lot that tells me any thought went into crafting a distinct product (to be fair though, not much is going into this review either). You could say it's a facile comparison, but does the world really need another early-Black Lips cover band? Essentially that is what Straight Arrows, at least on their first two 7"s, are, and I honestly can't understand why anyone would want to mimic song conventions that are nearly 50 years old without adding even the slightest idiosyncrasy to them. The tracks from the split do fare a hell of a lot better than the debut though, and if I had to hear "Jeepster" (which is not a T.Rex cover) a couple more times I wouldn't mind it. Killer guitar tone on that one, really. But then its follow up "Close that Door" (which is not a Tigermen cover) is just so utterly predictable it immediately kills any momentum they had going. Maybe they got better after these early records, but the contents of this give me no reason to find out. At the end of the day shit like this isn't my bag. Sometimes it gets by on the strength of the songs, but that is rare (Apache Dropout did it for about one record then lost it), and this is not one of those cases.
It goes without saying that two LPs worth of unreleased Shadow Ring recordings spanning the group's entire existence and mastered by Jason Lescalleet is about as exciting a proposition as anything, music-related or otherwise, for the manager of this here blog space, and gets the highest recommendation around. I imagine anyone reading my prattle is quite familiar with the musical going-ons of Darren Harris, Graham Lambkin, and Tim Goss circa 1993-2003, but what makes this set so great is that one gets an alternate history of the band, essentially being subjected to their brilliant trajectory all over again. It is often noted that the Shadow Ring had one of the all time great musical developments. Far from existing in a vacuum, there were always references to be cited, and the band has been nothing if not forthcoming of acknowledging them in the years since their end. What seperates Shadow Ring from the pack, however, and indeed relegates them to an all time favorite for me, is the way they swallowed influences up and made them conform to their own world. Nascent Godz reverence from the A-side's City Lights sessions never exactly gets tossed as the band goes on, however, it is thrown into the pot alongside the likes of progressive Psych-Folk Jan Dukes de Gray, a decidedly British take on Robert Ashley's American theatrical works during the start of their Swill Radio run and a nod to Ashley's bud Alvin Lucier with the sound dismantling of side 4, dedicated entirely to outtakes from the band's final (and if pressed to choose, I'd say best) album I'm Some Songs. They also proved, more so than any band in history (yes, really), that knowing how to play one's instruments properly is not important as long as the vision is sound. Right from the beginning they were acutely aware of what they wanted to do, and no lack of musicianship stopped them from accomplishing it. The best feature of Remains Unchanged, however, is that one needs none of such context to appreciate it. It functions as a completely coherent overview, right from the opening tidbit of John Peel (r.i.p.) proclaiming his bewildered fixation towards the band's debut, to when they literally commit group suicide on tape during the second disc's closing, pulling their collective insides out for anyone who cares to hear.
Sprot "Summer of Sprot" (Wormwood Grasshopper)
Mysterious records showing up on my door step are always a welcome occurrence. When I saw a return address from Tasmania that looked familiar on this and "WG 004" on the label I had high hopes, seeing as Wormwood Grasshopper haven't had an egg yet out of their previous three. My hopes got REAL high when I threw what I thought to be the A-side down and shards of sound that got me thinking "Doden if they stole M.B.'s loops" started coming out of the speakers, as that is more or less what I wish every record I ever owned sounded like. Then I looked at the tiny insert that came with the thing and relaized I 'twas playing the B-side, which is supposed to be at 33 rpm. Also learned from it that the players on here were familiar ones, Matt Earle (of a million other worthwhile combos) and Adam Park, who plays in some of those other worthwhile combos with him. So not much of a mystery why this is good anymore. Played at the correct speed, the B-side is a little less jarring, but it still holds up well, and I think the M.B. comparison remains valid (specifcally his earlier, harsher stuff). A-side's got one foot in Rock and one in Noise (but is not "Noise Rock"), cooking up a nice raga feel w/ bass and drums under what I believe is guitar-created feedback. Sorta brings to mind what a Kennelmus on Come Org. might sound like, or if Electronic Hole really did record in, well, an electronic hole of sorts. 'Nother winner from this crew which have yet to let me down, and further goes to illuminate the difference between interesting musicians connected to a wide variety of Australian groups and ones like...
Straight Arrows "First 2 7"s" (Anti Fade)
...those featured in this band. Look! I did it again! Crazy how things just line up like this. I'm not trying to be hard on these guys or talk shit, but I just never found the likes of Circle Pit, Ruined Fortune, somebody from Royal Headache maybe? (or some other R.I.P. Society-associated act) to be very interesting, or even worthy of exploration. Much as those bands have elicited not much more than indifference though I'd rather give them a crack than these here Straight Arrows. They sure is "straight" 'far as sound is concerned, maybe even "square", but isn't all modern Garage? This record, which is a comp. of an OOP debut 7" and subsequent split 7", hits just about all the signposts of the genre. It's got crummy recording, short, sorta energetic songs and not a whole lot that tells me any thought went into crafting a distinct product (to be fair though, not much is going into this review either). You could say it's a facile comparison, but does the world really need another early-Black Lips cover band? Essentially that is what Straight Arrows, at least on their first two 7"s, are, and I honestly can't understand why anyone would want to mimic song conventions that are nearly 50 years old without adding even the slightest idiosyncrasy to them. The tracks from the split do fare a hell of a lot better than the debut though, and if I had to hear "Jeepster" (which is not a T.Rex cover) a couple more times I wouldn't mind it. Killer guitar tone on that one, really. But then its follow up "Close that Door" (which is not a Tigermen cover) is just so utterly predictable it immediately kills any momentum they had going. Maybe they got better after these early records, but the contents of this give me no reason to find out. At the end of the day shit like this isn't my bag. Sometimes it gets by on the strength of the songs, but that is rare (Apache Dropout did it for about one record then lost it), and this is not one of those cases.
Tabacconists Smoking is Green (Economy of Language)
With Cherry Hill, NJ threatening to make it illegal to smoke on municipal properties OUTSIDE and rotten fuck fascists on Capital Hill making a big stink about the beyond-wealthy ending up in gutters if we tax 'em as they should be in order to avoid economic doom, what better time to discuss this record by smoking and Socialism enthusiasts Scott Foust and Frans De Waard? Both men have long and exemplary careers of fringe electronic music behind them, but together they are the Tobacconists, an outfit that celebrates the joys of smoking. I don't smoke myself and am not terribly familiar with much of de Waard's work, but releases involving Scott Foust are at best revelatory, and at worst at least provocative, forcing all kinds of questions about personal taste to be asked, so it was an easy trigger to pull. This album has two components; there is a CD featuring Smoking is Green: A Radiophonic Opera in Four Cigarettes, which is music by De Waard and dialouge from Foust (w/ announcements provided by Karla Borecky) about why, from an environmental perspective, smoking is good for the planet. Again, not being a smoker I have little stock in this argument but it is both correct and hilarious ("Bad Liberal's Dream" in particular). Certainly a lot of planning went into both the composition and execution of this production, but it's not really the type of thing I personally need to hear more than a few times. Luckily the LP is more substantial, featuring the kind of delicate electronic atmospherics these guys are known for without the distraction of spoken word elements. Six songs that present an individual theme and manipulate it in a focused manner, finding itself among such welcome company as Harold Budd, Heldon and that fertile period right around when John Fothergill left NWW (and possibly the Pink Floyd of Animals? Lot of sheep and bird sounds, I'm just saying). Admittedly, these guys are so damn good at this kinda thing it seems like they could cook it up in their sleep, but what are 'ya gonna do, be mad at them about it? Really solid listen here.
Useless Eaters "New Program" + 2 (Anti Fade)
I've heard the name Useless Eaters before and always figured them to be a KBD-influenced outfit (blame the automatic association the brain makes with "I'm Useless" and Nervous Eaters for that)[Ed.-oh duh, the Vomit Pigs song! Whatever tho, that's a four figure record only a Jap./Euro could luv]. It is not so. Instead their music is highly indebted to the late Jay Reatard. Of course it was only a matter of time before people started mining his song book for inspiration (and I suppose they were doing it plenty while he was still alive), as many figure him to be a very influential presence on what they find appealing about modern Punk/Garage. I can't say I'm one of them, but I'll try to be as impartial as possible while reviewing this recent 7" from the solo project of Nashville's Seth Sutton. It is a bit difficult though; whereas Reatard had a semblance of legitimacy (and talent) about him, most of this record comes off like the work of a kid who grew up on Pop Punk but got wind of the next big trend in time to give it a go. And I don't mean that as in a conscious pursuit of measurable success or whatever, 'cos I certainly don't know or care what the guy's intentions are, but more in terms of riding a pretty tasteless wave towards some sort of recognition. Or more likely he just digs Jay Reatard a lot and his band reflects this, but he's going about it in a pretty boring way. "People in this world are out of touch" Sutton laments on "New Program", but if he's under the impression that his song writing is any more consequential than the vapid tripe composing most of what I guess you'd call "Popular Music" today than I think he may be out of it as well. By no means am I saying that every artistic statement has to be an attempt to extirpate all commercial prospects from the final product, but seriously, this is some slick, candy cane shit, and I cannot hang.
Gareth Williams/Mary Currie Flaming Tunes (Blackest Ever Black)
In a prime example of how things work in the wakkky, 'anything goes' world of muzak these days a UK label specializing in goth-influenced Techno popular among Europeans and those who wish to be like them puts out the first official vinyl edition of the 1985 cassette from ex-This Heat bassist/multi-instrumentalist Gareth Williams and Mary Currie, who I am completely devoid of information on. Being as This Heat is a perrenial fave I gave this 'un a whirl despite the stupidly expensive pricetag ("Boy am I glad I don't care about dance music," I thought to myself as I ordered, "this shit sure is pricey!" Then I pondered the money I've sunk into "experimental" and Psych reissues over the last month and sheepishly got off my high horse). Once mislabeled "This Heat's final demo recordings" to Williams's dismay, however, anyone expecting something similar to his previous band might be disappointed, as this project was a deliberate attempt to eschew their aggressive nature in favor of more polished material. What that translated to was a series of carefully assembled, ethereal gems with an almost austere dedication to craft. Other Anglo Art-Pop dips, like the last two Talk Talk albums, "Outdoor Miner" or a less perverted Kevin Ayers spring to mind, as does what Mayo Thompson may have sounded like had he come up in late 70's UK 'stead of 60's TX. It's commendable how effortlessly things flow even when the songs are quite loosely connected, like how a string-driven ballad with an Another Green World feel to it ("Breast Stroke") can be followed by field recordings of crickets, tribal percussion and a simple piano phrase ("Raindrops from Heaven") and sound fitting. I wouldn't call it essential by any stretch, but price and the kind of annoying aura of inflated importance this thing has acquired, probably more due to it selling out from label and distros quick than anything, this is definitely a nice disc to have on hand for both the 'Heat completist and anyone with an ear for competent, contemplative Pop.
With Cherry Hill, NJ threatening to make it illegal to smoke on municipal properties OUTSIDE and rotten fuck fascists on Capital Hill making a big stink about the beyond-wealthy ending up in gutters if we tax 'em as they should be in order to avoid economic doom, what better time to discuss this record by smoking and Socialism enthusiasts Scott Foust and Frans De Waard? Both men have long and exemplary careers of fringe electronic music behind them, but together they are the Tobacconists, an outfit that celebrates the joys of smoking. I don't smoke myself and am not terribly familiar with much of de Waard's work, but releases involving Scott Foust are at best revelatory, and at worst at least provocative, forcing all kinds of questions about personal taste to be asked, so it was an easy trigger to pull. This album has two components; there is a CD featuring Smoking is Green: A Radiophonic Opera in Four Cigarettes, which is music by De Waard and dialouge from Foust (w/ announcements provided by Karla Borecky) about why, from an environmental perspective, smoking is good for the planet. Again, not being a smoker I have little stock in this argument but it is both correct and hilarious ("Bad Liberal's Dream" in particular). Certainly a lot of planning went into both the composition and execution of this production, but it's not really the type of thing I personally need to hear more than a few times. Luckily the LP is more substantial, featuring the kind of delicate electronic atmospherics these guys are known for without the distraction of spoken word elements. Six songs that present an individual theme and manipulate it in a focused manner, finding itself among such welcome company as Harold Budd, Heldon and that fertile period right around when John Fothergill left NWW (and possibly the Pink Floyd of Animals? Lot of sheep and bird sounds, I'm just saying). Admittedly, these guys are so damn good at this kinda thing it seems like they could cook it up in their sleep, but what are 'ya gonna do, be mad at them about it? Really solid listen here.
Useless Eaters "New Program" + 2 (Anti Fade)
I've heard the name Useless Eaters before and always figured them to be a KBD-influenced outfit (blame the automatic association the brain makes with "I'm Useless" and Nervous Eaters for that)[Ed.-oh duh, the Vomit Pigs song! Whatever tho, that's a four figure record only a Jap./Euro could luv]. It is not so. Instead their music is highly indebted to the late Jay Reatard. Of course it was only a matter of time before people started mining his song book for inspiration (and I suppose they were doing it plenty while he was still alive), as many figure him to be a very influential presence on what they find appealing about modern Punk/Garage. I can't say I'm one of them, but I'll try to be as impartial as possible while reviewing this recent 7" from the solo project of Nashville's Seth Sutton. It is a bit difficult though; whereas Reatard had a semblance of legitimacy (and talent) about him, most of this record comes off like the work of a kid who grew up on Pop Punk but got wind of the next big trend in time to give it a go. And I don't mean that as in a conscious pursuit of measurable success or whatever, 'cos I certainly don't know or care what the guy's intentions are, but more in terms of riding a pretty tasteless wave towards some sort of recognition. Or more likely he just digs Jay Reatard a lot and his band reflects this, but he's going about it in a pretty boring way. "People in this world are out of touch" Sutton laments on "New Program", but if he's under the impression that his song writing is any more consequential than the vapid tripe composing most of what I guess you'd call "Popular Music" today than I think he may be out of it as well. By no means am I saying that every artistic statement has to be an attempt to extirpate all commercial prospects from the final product, but seriously, this is some slick, candy cane shit, and I cannot hang.
Gareth Williams/Mary Currie Flaming Tunes (Blackest Ever Black)
In a prime example of how things work in the wakkky, 'anything goes' world of muzak these days a UK label specializing in goth-influenced Techno popular among Europeans and those who wish to be like them puts out the first official vinyl edition of the 1985 cassette from ex-This Heat bassist/multi-instrumentalist Gareth Williams and Mary Currie, who I am completely devoid of information on. Being as This Heat is a perrenial fave I gave this 'un a whirl despite the stupidly expensive pricetag ("Boy am I glad I don't care about dance music," I thought to myself as I ordered, "this shit sure is pricey!" Then I pondered the money I've sunk into "experimental" and Psych reissues over the last month and sheepishly got off my high horse). Once mislabeled "This Heat's final demo recordings" to Williams's dismay, however, anyone expecting something similar to his previous band might be disappointed, as this project was a deliberate attempt to eschew their aggressive nature in favor of more polished material. What that translated to was a series of carefully assembled, ethereal gems with an almost austere dedication to craft. Other Anglo Art-Pop dips, like the last two Talk Talk albums, "Outdoor Miner" or a less perverted Kevin Ayers spring to mind, as does what Mayo Thompson may have sounded like had he come up in late 70's UK 'stead of 60's TX. It's commendable how effortlessly things flow even when the songs are quite loosely connected, like how a string-driven ballad with an Another Green World feel to it ("Breast Stroke") can be followed by field recordings of crickets, tribal percussion and a simple piano phrase ("Raindrops from Heaven") and sound fitting. I wouldn't call it essential by any stretch, but price and the kind of annoying aura of inflated importance this thing has acquired, probably more due to it selling out from label and distros quick than anything, this is definitely a nice disc to have on hand for both the 'Heat completist and anyone with an ear for competent, contemplative Pop.
