In My Pocket....

Hold, please...

2006-09-12T08:40:00.000-07:00

I know I've been discouragingly quiet... Just a few more days, kiddies, I promise an early Halloween sackful of goodies.

Some of my best friends are Japanese (Boredom 2)...

2006-07-28T18:45:00.000-07:00

Without a doubt, Japan is where it's at. Music, culture, fashion, robots, Miike, and little girl's underwear from vending machines. I mean, what more could one ask for?

This past Thursday was a big day from the far east for me, as Kidrobot's Dunny series 3 was released. If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, Dunnys are 3 inch tall vinyl rabbit thingys created by a Japanese toy store owner, (who is one rich motherfucker now), that bring almost as much joy to my shriveled and blackened heart as music does, and the new batch is really something to behold. About 20 different artists and designers contributed their time and creative juices to the cause, and I was very pleased to obtain all but two in the box of twenty that I decided I could not live without. To ice the silly plastic toy cake, the fates smiled down on me when I opened the last box, (half the fun is they are all "blind" packaged, so you don't know which one you have until you open it), to reveal the highly coveted 1/100 ABE LINCOLN JUNIOR, which may be one of the most tasteless toys ever created. Lil' Abe has a bloody bullet hole smack between his eyes, and an exit wound that would make Gaspar Noe flinch.

So, not only can one get a nifty little art piece for about six bones, they are also a brilliant way to discover new artists. Jaime Hayon and Joe Ledbetter are some of my new faves, as well as some more familiar luminaries like Friends With You, (who's GENIUS Black Foot AKA Captain Bingo modular hand painted wood figure is one of my prized possessions), Blaine Fontana, and Alex Pardee, who does the most disturbing things possible with bunny rabbits.

Check these cats out, I promise your eyes'll be popping and you can sound totally down at the next dinner party you attend with all your newly learned hipster art speak.

Now, back to Japan...

I was inclined a while back to do a swell Jap-a-psych post, but Dirk over at Cities on Flame has not only done a bang up job of spreading the rising sun of love, he's actually been schooling me on some of the older stuff. Tip of the hat to him and head over for a good face melting.

So my next bright idea, being a big fan of all things Boris, was to drop sludgey science all over the joint with a Boris tribute, but NO!!! The newbie blog Cage Dream just posted almost everything our beloved trio has released. And by everything, I'm talking Pink, Feedbacker, Flood, Mabuta No Ura OST, Amplifier Worship, Heavy Rocks, Akuma No Uta, Dronevil Final Part I & II, The Thing which Salomon Overlooked I, II & III, PLUS Black, Implication Flooding with Keiji Haino, the three Merzbow colabs; Sun Baked Snow Cave, 04092001 & Megatone, and the split with Choukoku No Niwa. And again with the icing, Obacht! dropped Archive Vol.1: Live 96-98, Archive Vol.2: Drumless Shows, & Archive Vol.3: Two Long Songs in my comments. The password for the archive files is darkstalker666@666wicked666.co.nr, and they're connected, so you need to grab them all before it's Christmas morning, dig?

I have been awash in the drone ever since.

What can I possibly do to add to such an amazing act of cultural enrichment? How 'bout some import only Boredoms?

Check it...

From Eye's solo side I give you Rebore 0 and a live DJ set from The Metro, Kyoto, Japan 3/25/01, a surprisingly mellow affair that gets played at least once a month around my house. Very essential.

Next up, four volumes from the genre frying Super Roots series, Super Roots 1, Super Roots 5, Super Roots 6 and, Super Roots 7. These plates help bridge the gap between the spaz core "Acid Police" days and the more Earth mother "Vision Creation New Sun" tip.

Wow 2 was almost a precursor to the whole Super Roots onslaught, one can almost imagine the groop sitting in the studio and attempting to record a "pop" album, then at the last minute, opting for a complete whiplash of Beefheartian mind fuck. This one tops my charts, as well.

Finally, right before the band morphed into their current incarnation, "Voordoms", (the V representing the stylus of a record player and the two O's or infinity symbol symbolizing Eye's DJ rig, they recorded Seadrum/House of Sun, the "Seadrum" half reportedly underwater. Wacky kids.

Well, dear readers, don't completely destroy your hearing, as my promised avant/free jazz mix is well in the works, and I'm considering a Ghost mega-post to round out the Japanese madness.

Oh yeah, the Boredoms stuff is on Megaupload, I can't stand the Rapidshare hour wait shit anymore. Click away...

Silence, Ocampo, Underemployment, Boredom, etc...

2006-06-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, so it's been quite some time since I last posted, and I extend my deepest apologies. I've had equal parts too much and not enough on my hands these days, with a lot of distraction in between.

To put it mildly, I've been on a journey inward as of late, reading Dostoyevski's "The Double" and interpreting John Cage's "Silence", (snagged a 2nd edition for almost nothing, and, as far as overarching experimental texts go, is totally gear), and bouncing ideas for long form fiction around inside my troubled and troubling brain. Looks like Mr. A hit the nail an the head.

Another thing I've been struggling with is the apparent attack on album blogs lately and the subsequent and senseless postings of the same handful of records on different sites. I mean, c'mon, nobody listened to Jade Warrior thirty years ago and nobody wants to listen to them now. My intent has always been to bring you new things and, yes, I am grateful for those solitary sages who have turned me on to things I had never heard of before, regardless of how "sad" some people may view the whole sharity network thing.

In addition to all this, my good friend and little "sister" Chouette and I had an argument about a month ago about the merits and evils of album blogging. She being a promoter, (and behind the Beirut hub-bub. BUY IT!!!!), fails to see the benefit of free press and word of mouth buzz created by blogs like this. Needless to say, inner turmoil abounds.

Well, as things tend to go in this media saturated world of ours, I was pouring over the work of one of my favorite artists, Manuel Ocampo, when an old lesson occurred to me. Most great artist/revolutionaries/groundbreakers are often misunderstood in their day, (like, jeez, think about the SLA), and it takes awhile before the rest of the world wises up. So, fuck it, right?

To make up for your patience and well wishes, I'm more than doubling my usual offerings for this post, and have some tasty surprises in store for you soon. Namely, a couple handcrafted mixes of the avant jazz variety to help fill the gap left by the demise of Jazz Pour Tout. A new look is in the works as well as a donation button, being that I am a struggling artist/writer myself. Obviously I'd use the extra scratch to pick up new music to pass along to all of you, but I'm not gonna lie and say that some of said dough won't end up going to an even higher cause, my rent.

On with the show...

Brightblack Morning Light came out of nowhere this year with their opiated hippie soul psych out on Matador, creatively titled Brightblack Morning Light. I would have had the pleasure of catching them live a few weeks back if it wasn't for a female related meltdown compounded by a minor drug binge. Whatever, this album has me chanting along, crystal in hand before the first track is through, and I don't even buy into that kinda shit.

Before Ta Det Lugnt stopped the whole world in it's tracks, Gustav Ejstes had been getting his outre fusion tree hugging on for a long time, and 1999-2001 highlights some of Dungen's more free form Scandinavian freak out. After repeated listens, I dig this one way more than the more recent pop song oriented stuff.

In honor of This Heat's long awaited mail order only box set, I thought I'd drop the classic Repeat on you. Remixed and re-assembled from earlier works, the music on Repeat gives further depth to This Heat's unmistakable sound. You need this one.

Droning out of New Zealand, Birchville Cat Motel conjure up an eerie vibe on Chi Vampires, consisting of four really, really long pieces that'll put you in orbit. Perfect soundtrack to the end of any chemically indulgent night.

According to the Great Druid Julien Cope, Le Stelle di Mario Schifano is the closest European equivalent to the first VU records "multi-media experience anti-hippie freak out helmed by an acclaimed artist that had almost nothing to do with it save painting the cover art". The first track takes about five minutes to get rolling, but the second side is pure bliss. Time to get out those headphones, kiddies.

Function's Matt Nicholson has strung together one of the most unfocused yet wholly beautiful records that I've heard in a long time. The Secret Miracle Fountain was recorded with the help of thirty of his closest friends in over ten countries over several years, and it sounds like it. From lo-fi shoe gazing to glitched out folktronics, this one keeps bringing more to your head with every spin. Well worth the effort.

Finally, another tip of the hat to the now defunct JPT, perhaps my all time favorite skronking jazz classic, Pharoah Sanders' Tauhid. This slab has it all, and by all I mean Sonny Sharrock. If you don't have this, you haven't used your ears yet.

So that's that. Listen deeply, and next time I promise to ramble on a bit more about cultural interests before getting down to the tunes. And thanks to all who left a concerned comment, the love is definitely felt.

Bottled sunshine, by request...

2006-06-07T22:39:00.000-07:00

As a reward for scoring a job at the Warhol, Ms. J finally gets her Tropicalia comp....

And I suppose I am getting a tiny bit excited about seeing Os Mutantes at the end of next month.

Psych-O-Tropic Uno *another handcrafted assemblage from me to all of you*

On the Devil's day...

2006-06-05T20:25:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning, the first thing you all need to do to make your 06/06/06 worthwhile is to head to your fave independent record store and buy Bardo Pond's new record, Ticket Crystals. The next thing on your list, make way to wherever you buy or rent DVDs and get your hands on a copy of The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things. That's right, Asia Argento's adaptation of JT Leroy's brutal semi-autobiographical account of growing up as the cross-dressing son of a trailer park whore has finally found distribution after almost two years. Go support art that makes a difference.

Speaking of, I watched Woody Allen's Match Point with Mon Chaton while she was in town over the last fortnight, and although I am not a fan of Allen's non-comedic work, he hit this one way out of the park. Scarlett Johansson is almost perfect, and the story/plot would fit alongside Hitchcock's best films. We also caught Art School Confidential, which was every bit as good as Ghost World, Terry Zwigoff & Dan Clowes previous collaboration.

Besides catching up with the Kitten, I also got a new job and have decided to move in with Cash Money at the end of this month, simultaneously increasing my income and slashing my bills in half. Movin' on up and shit.

Okay, kids. Here comes the good part...

Wooden Wand and the Vanishing Voice turn out records more often then some people shower, and Gipsy Freedom is not only their newest, but quite likely the most fully formed and alluring set to date. Free jazzer Daniel Carter punches the clock and adds some inspired reed-work, giving some weight to the whole swirling psych meritage. This record has spent a lot of time spinning around my place recently, especially in those creepy crawling hours after midnight.

The Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood have only one thing on their mind, and that's making yours melt. Somewhere between folk and Krautrock influenced freak outs, Animal Speak sticks to the inside of your skull and slowly starts moving things around to it's liking, leaving you with an odd feeling of displacement. This is one of their many CDR releases, and rumor has it that they will be putting out an official release soon. Keep your fingers crossed and watch your back.

Under the radar...

2006-05-31T09:37:00.000-07:00

I promise I will get back to regular posting soon, I have been swamped over the past two weeks with many things.

In the meantime, go check out some stuff that I have found elsewhere and have been listening to lately...

Henri Texier - Varech via Whoops
OvO - Miastenia and The Ladies - They Mean Us both via Una Piel de Astracan

"It’s not where you take things from, it’s where you take them to..."

2006-05-23T16:58:00.000-07:00

While on a mission to liberate a copy of the March 1968 issue of Avant Garde Magazine, (I'm working on the entire series, sparked by Mon Chaton giving me Issue #3 for X-Mas), I picked up the catalog for the 1965 MOMA show, The Responsive Eye. Although not what I was looking for, a very nice consolation prize. The show in question was a showcase of the then crystallizing Op-Art movement, which had been slowly gathering steam since the mid-30s.

What drew me in to the slim bookr is the Bridget Riley piece wrapped around the softcover. I've grown to admire Riley's work quite a bit ever since my introduction to her through the back of the Faust Tapes album cover. The interesting fact about Riley that sealed my fandom is that she first adapted her sterile, clean and emotionless style after a failed romance. Imagine being so devastated by the loss of love that for nearly a decade, all works produced were devoid of color and exhibited such a cold and calculated lack of feeling, while still filled with passion and able to evoke a response in the viewers mind and heart. The painting above, Fall (1963), is from the earliest of that period, and with the further understanding of the artist's world, we gain new insight into their works.

Riley believed that the art happened in the space between the canvas and the eye of the viewer, and across the Atlantic, a similar idea was beginning to gather force at the cinema...

Jean-Luc Godard had already made waves with the release of A Bout de Souffle in 1960, shocking audiences with it's as to for unseen editing techniques and self referencing. Godard was part of a movement in film that assumed it's audience to be intelligent enough to realize they were watching a series of still pictures, edited together to form a narrative. He rejected the Hollywood aesthetic of forcing the audience's reaction with dramatic pandering. Along with Truffaut's Les Quatre Cent Coups and Resnais' Hiroshima Mon Amore, A Bout de Souffle (Breathless) heralded the birth of the Nouvelle Vague, which reached it's most accessible peak with Godard's Bande A Part.

Equal parts comedy, drama and film noir, Bande A Part references not only itself and other films, but also pulls heavily from the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud, and the surrealist writings of Aragon and Andre Breton. Described by Godard as Alice in Wonderland meets Franz Kafka, and by his critics as a Godard film for those who don't care for Godard, I rewatched Bande A Part this weekend as a part of my black and white movie marathon. In the 5-7 years since I last saw this film, I must have gained quite a perspective, as I was glued to the screen this time through, and would probably now place it in my top 10 films, and favorite of Godard's work, period.

So what does all this have to do with the albums I'm about to post? Maybe the idea of action taking place between the performer and the audience fits the conceptual approach of the following artists like a glove...

First up is Italian slow core darlings Larsen, who's mysterious antics reach past the simple ideas of performer/audience separation all the way into the studio. Apparently, when underground Prince of Misery M. Gira first traveled to Europe to record Larsen's debut, the band chose to hide behind a white curtain during the entire process, cutting even the producer/label owner out of the clique. For their second album, Play, Larsen drew inspiration and melodic cues from the equally shrouded Brit avant electro duo Autechre. If anything could ever top Kronos Quartet covering Eno's Music for Airports, you are about to hear it.

Blowing in on the Norwegian winds is death free jazz anti "group" Supersilent. Originaly conceived as a once off improv during the 1997 Bergen Jazz Festival, Supersilent continued to push boundaries with their second release, entitled simply, 4. This record, as all of their efforts, foregoes any titles to alleviate the listener of preconceptions. Also true to form, 4 is compiled from hours and hours of live tape with minimal overdubs, as the band never "writes or practices" songs, or even speaks a word to one another outside performances.

Finally, I give you the master of treated guitar, Christian Fennesz, and his most recent effort, Venice. The long awaited follow up to his break through Endless Summer, Fennesz slyly continues to hint at melody, while briefly joined on his sojourn by David Sylvan, which may be the greatest pairing since Fripp and Eno. This record will wash over you like a half remembered dream several times before making a full appearance in waking consciousness. Allow time for full effect to take hold.

SPECIAL BONUS RECORD FROM MR. A...
Paik - Monster of the Absolute
Paik's most recent record builds on Satin Black's strengths in song/suite dynamic build. Highly recomended.

Reader survey...

2006-05-19T17:05:00.000-07:00

I use this space to yammer on endlessly about myself all the time. Now it's your turn. As the counter on the bottom right hand side of the page has gotten closer and closer to ten large, I've grown curious about my readers.

Here's my solution...

It'll take 10 seconds of your time, and it will satisfy my questions about the who, where, and why. So, copy and paste the short questionnaire that follows onto a comment page and fill that sucker out. Grazie.

1. boy or girl?
2. country/state?
3. age?
4. fave upload so far?
5. fave post (topic) so far?
6. name 3 black & white films
7. Bowie or T.Rex?
8. 1 record you would like to see uploaded here
9. do you ever visit the non-music related links on my list?
10. am I sexy or what?

Ever wonder what US Maple would sound like if the lead singer was suicidal instead of sleazy? I'll bet you anything they'd sound a lot like The Dead Science. Frost Giant is their third record and the first I had heard of them. This one took me by surprise and held my attention for awhile when it came out late last year. Half pseudo-freeform improv dissolve and disillusion, half heart-swollen torch song + guitar bombast, this set slithers on it's belly then swings wide, a drunken glare fixed upon the face of desperation. I like this band so much I'll even forgive the fact that two members moonlight with Xiu Xiu. Ouch!

Obscured by leaves...

2006-05-18T15:37:00.000-07:00

After mentioning the FM3 Buddha Machine a few posts back, I began to covet said micro meditative sound object. Fortunately for me, my favorite local record store happened to have one left in stock, which I gladly purchased for $25 this very afternoon.

Since then, I have grown quite enamored with my pocket sized green plastic portable media installation. I spent a good hour at the coffee shop, offering it over to friends and strangers alike, allowing them to discover the cold ambient charm for themselves, while taking notes on the variety of responses. At least half who held the FM3 with their own hands inquired as to where it could be purchased, restoring my belief in the abilities of art and concept to open eyes wide with wonder still, even in the simplest of forms.

It has already begun to slowly change my life.

In similar thought, Markus & Eri Popp, (of Oval and Microstoria), commenced their project So in 2002, and the music heard on their debut is considered unfinished still. Drawing from and reworking song cycles out of Eri's archives, Makus worked his bit-smoldering, hallucinogenic oval process on the warm organic tones of her soft, sensual voice and acoustic guitar textures. The two collaborators continued working on the files until FedEx showed up for the CDR, recording new vocal and guitar parts directly into their PowerBook's internal mic up to the last minute.

To continue the concept, Markus & Eri decided to build a completely customized So Fi-PA-system, that consisted of two Triode amplifiers based on ancient schematics, rated at 6-8 Watts each, as well as a set of homemade broadband speakers created with 1950s movie theater speakers, using an empty bottle as a quasi-backloaded Tractrix (Spherical) horn and mounted in plain cardboard boxes. The sound created was strange and fragile, and the details to replicate the system are apparently available for those interested.

In the Garden of Eaten...

2006-05-18T07:26:00.000-07:00

The house I live in was built in 1925. I occupy the second floor, a tiny, one bedroom with character to spare. It is far from perfect, but in a sense, perfect for my needs. Double-doors open the livingroom to the front and allow access to my balcony, which overlooks a rather large front yard. Ever since I moved in last September, I've wanted to put that yard to good use, specifically, with a Sunday afternoon game of croquet. This Sunday, my wish will be granted.

Now, mind you, no simple, casual game will do. Not for me, nor my friends. This Sunday's match will be to the death, a tiered tournament 'till the last ball-smacker stands proud, golden mallet thrust high in the springtime sun. A champion.

For extra entertainment/humor/ridiculousness, I've decided there will also be a best dressed award given to the player with the most creative and/or appropriate attire. DJ Air France will be couture judge. Being French, I assumed she would be the most qualified for such a lofty title.

You have no idea how excited I am, in 76 hours, I will be on that balcony, looking down at my friends, drinking mojitoes, dressed like Victorian socialites, characters from Heathers and Alice in Wonderland, all playing a ruthless, bloody CROQUET DEATH MATCH!!!

In keeping with the high spirits I am currently in, I'm dropping some jazz science on y'all today...

Meet Mr. Joe McPhee, cult figure and tenor sax monster, McPhee and his quintet + cut the three tracks on Nation Time live in 1970, which was released the following year on CjR records, (dusty finger alert: if you find the original, buy that fucker, 'cause nobody else has it. For real). This is a serious heavy heavy heavy jazz funk beast, I promise you won't find anything that smokes as much, or gets your ass to shaking this hard. The centerpiece stomper Shakey Jake is a reckless, organ driven free funk freak out that has yet to be matched.

While I'm at it, Nothing Is would be my all time favorite Sun Ra joint. Recorded at various NY state college shows in 1966 and released on ESP in 1970, Sun Ra and his Arkestra pack the tight black grooves on this piece of vinyl with the exuberance and mysticism that made him infamous. Dancing Shadows explodes out of your cones and takes this one off like a non stop flight to Saturn, and if the ominous and hypnotic Exotic Forest and Shadow World don't make you a believer, than your soul is lost forever, man.

As usual, headphones are recommended,

Writing with a ghost over my shoulder...

2006-05-17T18:16:00.000-07:00

One of the last assignments I had to complete for my aforementioned sex in lit & film class was a compare and contrast of my favorite book, Lolita, and the two films that bear it's slight resemblance. Needless to say, my mind is still crawling around in the back of my skull, digging around dusky corners for things to further deconstruct. I feel for what my friends must have to endure, self-absorption and soporific meanderings of the tongue and tale.

Whatever.

So, the good thing is, over break, I intend to keep to a strict one novel a week diet, beginning with the already begun Woman in the Dunes. More than likely what follows should go something like this...
Norwegian Wood
Lunar Park
Oblivion
The Man Who Fell To Earth
Invitation To A Beheading
Probably not in that order. That'll take care of the first month and a half, at least.

Speaking of stories, Boris released Mabuta No Ura at some point recently overseas, (namely Japan and Brazil), as a "soundtrack to the film seen on the backside of the eyelids" after reading the stories included in the rather elaborate packaging while listening to the CD enclosed. How's that for hot shit cerebralism? It's a pretty smooth listen, at any rate. More on the acoustic-psych-cum-drone epic end of the Boris spectrum.

NY's Sightings have been making quite a racket for some time, and on their forth outing, Arrived In Gold, they make their own play for higher level thinking noise. Big on dynamics and lean on everything else, leave this one home alone and you'll return to find it's teeth bared, salivating and snarling at you from the corner of your bedroom.

Another forth record in, Paik's Satin Black is a weighty platter as well. After the lead off, the rest of the tracks bleed together, seeping into your headphones on an overcast summer afternoon, patient, threatening. Heavy more in spirit than actual execution, but well executed none the less. Pairs well with a mid period Bardo Pond.

Bon Apetit.

"I like boring things..."

2006-05-14T17:33:00.000-07:00

Among this weeks acquisitions, I was able to obtain a copy of the rather handsomely packaged and newly minted book; Andy Warhol Screen Test: The Films of Andy Warhol Catalogue Raisonne - Volume One. The books editors have undertaken the immense and frustrating job of cataloging and organizing every single "screen test" from the original Factory years. Every still from the series is presented, as well as a short bio of each "star", with amusing quotes and anecdotes where necessary.

I have been a big Warhol fan since my early teens and drool at the idea of being able to lounge luridly over the minutiae of his career. Especially the early years, largely due to the fascination with the Factory, it's occupants and hangers-on, the "superstars" and street trash, and how for a few short years in the magical isle of Manhattan, Andy was everything to everyone and the central point between all places light and dark. Warhol helped create the over-saturated junk culture world we live in today, for better or worse, and is most likely the nucleus for all that we consider "art" or artful design.

One of the things that attracts me most is his idea of blending the high and low, it draws me in where ever I notice its presence. Like the Krautrockers mixing British blues rock with avant-garde composition, the radio friendly pop song and musique concrete. Or the current wave of designer toys, museum quality work reduced to vinyl molded bears and bunnies. Adultswim and limited edition sneakers. Graffiti writer clothing lines and the FM3 Buddha Machine. Sure, the downfalls of living in a disposable society are plenty, but so are the benefits.

Another aspect of the Warholian philosophy that I adore is the use of repetition. Adopting the Buddhist axiom to the extreme, (if something is boring for 2 minutes, try it for 4, etc...), Andy used repetition in image, theme, and most poignantly in his early filmwork. Imagine actually watching all 4 hours and 45 minutes of "Sleep". Unfortunately, I think almost everyone missed the point at the time, but the effects of the experiments are still felt, like an endless series of waves rippling to the shore. A perfect analogy of the idea it represents.

Between the repetition of krautrock and the angularity of post-rock lays This Heat. Their debut filled with tape manipulations, heavy repetition, and chaotic rhythmic explorations marked a turning point in modern music, and has been referenced almost as much as the Velvet Underground. Brit DJ John Peel was among the first to champion This Heat's new adventures in noise, and Made Available collects their sessions recorded for his radio show.

Wine, Women and Song recently featured The Psychic Paramount, current defenders of the art rock repetitious riff throne. I fell in love with this record and had to dig deeper, there was no way these guys just came out of nowhere. As it turns out, from 1997-2001, members of The Psychic Paramount brought sheer terror to those lucky enough to cross the path of Laddio Bolocko, the band before the band. Hailing from NY, (where else, right?), Laddio tore clubs and basements and speaker cones to shreds with their own brand of heavy psych. Often compared to Can and This Heat, their brief legacy has been committed to a double disc set, The Life & Times of Laddio Bolocko. These guys will change you're life. You have been warned.

Current top 10, in no particular order...

2006-05-08T19:57:00.000-07:00

10. Rose Wind for magically replacing the pair of Gucci sunglasses I lost in New York
9. Machi Abe's Illustrations for The Woman in the Dunes by Kobo Abe
8. Ben & Jerry's Jamaican Me Crazy chunky pineapple and passionfruit swirl sorbet
7. "All Wrapped Up" gift wrap of the 1960s coffee table book
6. This semester being over as of TODAY
5. Having purchased tickets for the Pitchfork Music Festival
4. The Emilio Pucci scarf I found on the sidewalk
3. Riding the '74 Schwinn Breeze for the past few days
2. hundreds of free fonts
1. The dollar store game

Fly Pan Am are probably the most ambiguous band on the Costellation Records roster. No two albums sound even remotely the same, covering every outre genre from no wave single chord riff marathons to tape manipulation, stuttering dry white funk to musique concrete, electronic malfunctions to surf rock freak-outs, and breathy femme fatale pop to aneurysm inducing high volume minimalism. Ceux qui inventent n'ont jamais vecu is their sophomore release, and my personal fave. Accessible only in comparison to their other more obtuse offerings, imagine a summery pop funk record as reinterpreted by a sociopath then deconstructed and stored on a faulty hard drive, and then transfer the corrupted files onto a melted wax cylinder and you're starting to get the idea.

Since Fly Pan Am are on an extended vacation, guitarist Jonathan Parant needed something to do to break the tedium of Montreal living, so he locked himself in a room with Alex St-Onge of Shalabi Effect and recorded the Feu Therese self titled debut, which, somehow, happens to be the most amazing long lost krautrock album never recorded. Manicly pumping organs and crystalline guitar shimmers over an unstoppable and ever shifting rythmn section that seems to be building large wood, stone and steel boxes at the end of a dark hallway. This one burns like the sun.

"This will be our new language..."

2006-05-07T13:35:00.000-07:00

Change is inevitable, unavoidable and frequently terrifying, There is no permanence in this world, only the moment, the temporary.

By it's definition, change brings about the unknown, and by it's nature the unknown can bless as well as curse, and by design, the difference between the two can be as apparent as the difference between two blades of grass. Change is conceptually complex, and is equally representative of positivity, renewal and reinvention.

I had to say goodbye to a large part of my life this weekend. I didn't want to, wasn't ready to, but things change without any consideration of our thoughts or feelings. Perhaps the purest form of change will effect my life right now, with it's slippery dichotomy, bringing about the brightest of days and biggest opportunities from the ashes of heartbreak and loss.

For those of you who grabbed The Crescent's debut a few days ago, change will be the thing you notice most about By The Roads And Fields, a record that no one ever expected or anticipated, arriving without warning in 2003. The same musicians are present, and the dark and moody groove evokes the same response in the listener, a paranoid and claustrophobic melancholy. But this album is almost the antithesis of Now, the hissing walls of sound are replaced with a sparse and delicate latticework of brooding instrumentation with occasional free jazz elements, the vocals are whispered and mumbled right into you ear instead of struggling to be comprehensible from deep within the thickness of the mix. The sound is unmistakably Crescent, without sounding very much like Crescent at all.

Now, imagine the same band as above, fleshed out with a few more members and a broader palette of sounds, (clarinet, cello, banjo, bass saxophone, trumpet, dulcimer, etc...), lugging their equipment along with a portable studio across the English countryside to record in churches, on the beach and in warehouses. That band would be Movietone, and their most recent effort The Sand and the Stars is one of the most hauntingly beautiful records I have ever heard. Kate Wright's sensual and grief filled vocals play against the acoustic and environmental backdrop perfectly, enveloping the listener in a warm blanket of organic sound.

For that entry I also posted Dead C's Tusk, and since I'm already opening the door wider, Bruce Russell, (affiliated with Xpressway cassettes, Flying Nun label and bassist for Dead C), put out a solo album of aggressive post-ambient drone and looped feedback, mysteriously titled Painting the Passports Brown on his own Corpus Hermeticum label. This one will have you pinned to the floor under the weight of it's shamanistic singularity, don't say I didn't warn you.

"I'll choke ya to death..."

2006-05-05T21:39:00.000-07:00

This past semester at school I had enrolled in a class that had never been offered before: Sex in Literature and Film. Sounds like a fun and interesting and hopefully, er, stimulating coarse, right?

Well, maybe not. In fact, maybe it was unfocused, irritating, and at times, completely ridiculous and embarrassing. Now, when I say embarrassing, I mean for the "professor", a certain Mr. Douglas Brode. Brode's got some serious credentials, and on paper, he seems like the bee's knees, however...

The very first day of class, Brode did the usual "this is what I'm all about". He's done a lot of critical writing on film and has published one novel and has had one screenplay produced. The film is called "Midnight Blue" and was produced for, get this, Playboy Television. I don't know if you're familiar with the kind and quality of movies that were made for the cathode-ray friendly version of everyone's favorite men's magazine, so I'll make it real clear for ya. Imagine a film shot with the budget of a late 80s/early 90s made for TV movie, plus daytime soap opera melodrama, throw in some really, really horrible soundtrack, (the kind that you just know was composed by the same guy that plays Buffet covers at the Hoolighans on Friday and Saturday night, filled to the brim with synth sax and pre programmed bossa beats), and then bookend the whole thing with some gratuitous and unthrilling sex scenes, and you have yourself a B grade T&A flick.

He made us watch this movie. He made us watch this movie, and then with a straight face, told us his main influence was Hitchcock. The only thing that this piece of shit has in common with a Hitchcock film is "Midnight Blue" and "Rear Window" are both two word, three syllable titles.

He wrote a novel too, remember? Guess what we did next for the class?

It's called "The Sweet Prince" and is Brode's take on Hamlet, (Shakespeare is, of coarse, his other main influence). Real quick plot summary: Hamlet is a crossdressing girl, and there is a four way between Hamlet, Ophelia, her brother, and Hamlet's best friend. His book was worse than his movie, essentially a Harlequin romance type thing filled with historical anachronisms. The icing on the cake is that Brode supplanted famous Shakespearian dialog into his book in a completely different context. My personal favorite, after Hammy's uncle is finished defiling Gertrude in the forest, he smells her crotch and says... wait for it.... "There's something rotten in the state of Denmark". I couldn't make this up if I wanted to.

Oblivious to his own foolishness, Brode spent most of the semester relating his work to classics like "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" and "Lolita" and dropping more names than an E! News special. The one good thing about this class is my final paper can be about any movie or film I choose, fulfilling a dream that I've had for some time...

My thesis paper is called, "Arrested Emotional Development in the Fragile Misogynist: Vincent Gallo's Buffalo '66"

Say what you will about Gallo, but I think he's a genius. Sure, he's a self involved asshole, but he makes me laugh and is almost always in character, and that takes commitment. I also recently discovered we have the same preference in transportation, and anyone who doesn't buy petrol is a swell guy in my book.

Buffalo '66 is one of my favorite films, and for a period of time, I would watch it almost daily and began to model my look after Gallo's Billy Brown. You have to admit, he's very sexy in a creepy and greasy kinda way. And both B '66 and Brown Bunny have amazing original soundtracks. It's a shame the John Frusciante stuff wasn't used in Brown Bunny at all.

Gallo's other work as a musician is great, and I wish he would come out with a follow up long player sometime soon. Unfortunately, if we take the length of time between the release of his solo record and the last recordings of his old band Gray as any indication, we might all have to wait another decade for Vincent to lay another slab of pure gold on us.

My absence was really the cornerstone of my involvement...

2006-05-01T10:58:00.000-07:00

I know I said I would post a whole bunch of stuff this weekend, but two life altering events occurred on Sunday, delaying my chance to drop the science for a bit.

Event number one: my hot water heater broke, leaving me to ice-cold showers and the resident below me to showers of water in his living room. Neither one of us are too happy about this, but I'd rather freeze while bathing than deal with a minor flood, another point for second floor living.

Event number two: my acquisition of the Criterion Collection edition of The Man Who Fell To Earth. For the past 24 I have been highly distracted by a Roeg directed, Bowie filled other-world of fashionable aliens and cryptic plot lines. A eerie place filled with naked hirsute extras and 1970's haute designer furnishings, Rip Torn and a bubble blowing Buck Henry. My all time favorite Sci-Fi flick, in all of it's digitally restored, wide screened and director's cut glory. I am in heaven, and now fully aware of how brutally the film was cut for it's US release. A tragic mistake finally made good.

If you are familiar with the film, and now knowing it's on my top shelf, you will immediately understand my appreciation of art that is largely impenetrable. I like things that unfold over time, revealing hidden layers and subtext with each viewing/reading/listen. Give me J.G. Ballard's Atrocity Exhibition any day.

And while your at it, drop the needle on a Dead C record. Those highly prolific Kiwis have been cranking out opiate friendly and frustratingly limited edition records packed to the run off groove with dense sheets of dissonant sound for over a decade. Each new album tops the previous, and the relatively recent, Fleetwood Mac(?) inspired Tusk is near perfect in it's mood altering dark bliss. I can't think of a guitar sound that seems so much like forever in all directions at once.

Another exercise in sheer depth of sound is The Crescent's full length debut Now. The jaw dropping one-two punch of lead tracks Sun and Superconstellation set the stage for one of the best recordings of the 90s. The whole thing sounds like it was recorded with contact mics attached to the outside of an airplane hanger in the seventh ring of Hell, and believe me, that is such a good thing.

Headphone use is recommended.

If I could make it any easier...

2006-04-27T16:42:00.000-07:00

My deepest apologies for going underground as of late. School is reaching it's freneticly paced end, started a new job, and the obligatory girl problems have reached a new level of distractive and depressive lows. I promise to post an obscene amount of records throughout this weekend, so sit tight, kids.

I will also return to my overly self-indulgent and obtuse set-up style as soon as I can find two thoughts to rub together....

Anyway, I was gonna fill some requests and post Espers Weed Tree EP, but Wine Women and Song beat me to the punch, sending me digging for Greg Weeks last solo effort Blood Is Trouble. The second track, Dusted, kicks like a rocked out Espers track, the rest of the album will take a few spins to really sink in.

Now if I could only find that Spirit Of Orr [[VVRRSSNN]]/Greg Weeks split 7 inch that got me all hot and bothered over our skinny little bespectacled guitar hero in the first place... Guess I'll be hitting the record shop this weekend.

Movable feast, portable studio...

2006-04-15T18:45:00.000-07:00

It is Monday and I am tired. Long Easter weekend, many social outings, much food and alcohol. Somehow managed to be perpetually surrounded by girls named after flowers, can't really complain.

Unfortunately, I have a thousand things to study for, finals are approaching rapidly, so here's the thing...

Skygreen Leopards Jehovah Surrender and She Rode On A Pink Gazelle & Other Dreams, two solid EP's from the more rock oriented half of Jeweled Antler Collective, from main man Glenn Donaldson.

Two more Ep's from the Jeweled's sprawling sub-catalog by the Famous Boating Party and The Once & Future Herds, further out on the folk tip, recorded outside, concrete and tape hiss, birdsong and bemusement.

Liz Janes & Create(!), not related at all, but geographically and sociologically connected. Free jazz and folk traditionalism. Perfect strangeness.

Drone on...

2006-04-13T19:25:00.000-07:00

In the apartment below my first lived a very friendly pot dealer. His cat's name was Cecil, but I don't remember his. I do recall that even if you weren't buying, you could always drop in and smoke a bit before heading upstairs, probably to bed. I was getting way into earlier Sonic Youth at the time, (they have a new one on the way. Yes, I have it. No, I will NOT be posting it. That shit with the Espers kinda got icky), and soon the three came together. That is, smoking and sleeping and the drone of a hundred guitars.
Something about that heavy detuned sludge of distorted strings puts me right where I need to be. Michael Gibbons from Bardo Pond speaks about that indefinable brain chemical majik that occurs when all the right overtones invade your head at the same time. Seeing Bardo Pond live is practically religious. If you're in Providence next weekend, they'll be there too, at Terrastock 6, which is exactly where you should go if you are. They also have a new slab on the way, out 6/6/06. Hail Satan, and stuff. (No, I HAVEN"T heard it yet. Hook me up.)
Fittingly, Pharoah Overlord's live set, The Battle of the Axehammer, is also loud as a house crashing into the ground. Y'know, that scene in My Own Private Idaho?
Anyhow, this was the first thing by them that I had heard, and although I'm into the live approach, I think I might dig the studio versions that much more because of it.
Whatever.
Turn it up all the way.
And I will up more (other) Espers soon, but I'm gonna lay some Jeweled Antler Collective on you first...

Dead Kings and Queens...

2006-04-07T16:00:00.000-07:00

So ends another week of mostly stress filled days, however, there are a few things to celebrate.

Firstly, I work at a wine shop, and tonight will be my return to running our weekly tasting, and there is no better way to start a Friday night than a few glasses of Caymus or Beaux Freres, not to mention the 2 Percocets my co-worker Laura left me with.

Secondly, on at least two separate evenings, very attractive girls, (different ones), approached and engaged me in flirtful conversation. The one with the darkest hair and the nicest lips said I looked like Benicio Del Toro, which IMMEDIATELY increased my interest. I am, after all, a self centered little fucker.

And finally, one of my favorite existent bands is about to release their second full length on the 16th, which means they'll be touring soon, and I hear they are nothing short of sublime in performance. The band is Espers and the record is Espers II. This album is a bit heavier than the first one, possibly due to their new home at Drag City, and actually rocks in places. At any rate, they have my vote for best Acid/Psych Folk record of the year so far, absolutely mesmerizing.

EDIT:

We appreciate that you like Espers and want to share your like with others, but we don't want people having record without paying for it - that's antithetical to what we're all doing here. This record isn't even out for another five weeks!

We would appreciate it if you would please take it down immediately. And disable the rapidshare link as well.

Thank you,

Drag City Inc.

"up to his neck in frozen methane..."

2006-04-02T19:12:00.000-07:00

Troublesome banshees play at my window tonight... I write this adrift in Ommegang & White Rhino with traces of things more illicit, both in substance and intent.

A slight downer of a day despite an afternoon of Viet cuisine, (including aloe vera and coconut flake juice), and thesis development at Redlightredlight. My anchor lays miles from here...

Thuja mystify, this evening's seance performed for the sake of ghost plants.

Ben Vida's first bird show burns bright with backwoods/bedroom/blacklight fret and knob twistery.

Two pleasant nightmares... Sleep soundly.

http://rapidshare.de/files/17063363/Ghost_Plants.zip.html

http://rapidshare.de/files/17064538/Green_Inferno.zip.html

The Empty Moment...

2006-04-01T21:01:00.000-08:00

In the house(s) I grew up in, my parents kept a modest but sufficient library of classic novels, books on travel and books on new-age trends, quite a few WWII historical accounts, a bunch of JFK conspiracy theory crap, approximately 25 years worth of National Geographic back issues, espionage thrillers, cookbooks, a few Bibles, and a series of tomes on different important artists. A rather handsomely packaged set, (leather bound slipcovers with full-color plates of major works embedded and embossed on the sleeves), that were sent once a month until my father determined that either; 1. We had reached a point of cultural saturation, or, (more likely), 2. He no longer wished to pay $29.99 a month on books he had no intention of reading.

In this series I learned about Picasso and DaVinci, Hopper and Pollack, even a little about Rockwell and Degas. However, one book stood out, and when I moved into my first apartment and the set was offered to me, it was the only one I took. The subject, Marcel Duchamp.

Duchamp became a great influence in my life, and recently I began reading Octavio Paz's essay "Marcel Duchamp: Appearance Stripped Bare". Needless to say it's pretty heavy stuff, all about Duchamp's theories and vision and persona. Paz and Duchamp were good friends and he manages to give quite a bit of insight into the life of the man that gave us meta-irony, Dada, post-cubism, surrealism, ready-mades, an-artistic gestures, "Nude Descending a Staircase", and arguably changed the way in which we look at the world.

If you aren't familiar with Marcel's work, do yourself a favor and check him out.

If you haven't read Octavio Paz, he's written some amazing poetry and fiction in addition to high-brow essays, and I would highly recommend his work.

Ben Chasny would probably back me up on that one. As Six Organs of Admittance, crazy Ben has done his share of breaking new ground artistically, blowing minds around the world with his fractured psychedelic folk melancholia. He wrote a whole album for Octavio, and more recently tangled guitar necks with Hiroyuki Usui of Fushitsusha as August Born.

Magical Power Mako is friends with Hiroyuki, and way back in the early 70s, he was keeping Dada alive while recording and assembling Hapmoniym. Similar in concept to Faust Tapes, the first 10 installments of Hapmoniym are fascinating sound collages of solo guitar, early electronics, field recordings and traditional Japanese folk instrumentation. This is #2.

http://rapidshare.de/files/16980039/OctP.zip.html

http://rapidshare.de/files/17001712/AuBo.zip.html

http://rapidshare.de/files/16989461/Hap_2.zip.html

Soul provider...

2006-03-24T18:18:00.000-08:00

Double disc deep soul inferno.
I tried to keep the slices thick and juicy, with a sprinkle of psych and a whole lotta thump.
Keep yer weekend shakin'.

http://rapidshare.de/files/16346253/Soul_In_The_Pocket_1.zip.html

http://rapidshare.de/files/16348944/Soul_In_The_Pocket_2.zip.html

Deeper into the forest...

2006-03-22T21:48:00.000-08:00

I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, and, when I became a teenager, my family relocated to Pennsylvania, about an hour outside of Pittsburgh. Both locations were far enough away from the city that, pre-driver's license, the allure and excitement of urban excursions were largely unattainable. Sure, there were plenty of chaperoned shopping trips filled with embarrassing pleas to stop by the record store for "just 10 minutes", and after I gained the freedom of petrol powered mobility, I would disappear to the depths of Oakland, (the area around Pitt University, the Carnegie-Melon Museum, collector's 12 Inch, Decade, The "O", and Avalon, the first vintage clothing store I had ever been in), for weeks at a time. I can still hear my mother's fearfully strained voice over the phone, "Are you okay? When were you planning on coming home?"

But before all those stolen moments of urban euphoria, which were sponsored by my adopted older sister and spiritual guide, Angella Ferry, (what ever happened to you, Ang?), there was only one place for a maladjusted teen to wander off and find solace, (& beer & pot & acid & fumbling attempts at sex & the obligatory abuse of fireworks and power-tools), the WOODS!

The shelter and shield of massive evergreens. The infinitely interesting insect life. The occasional abandoned and forgotten old cemetery. Cornfields and creepy sheds and rotting animals. Bonfires and vomit and condoms filled to the breaking point with young reckless lust.

Circle rocks the creepy vibe on Forest. This album gets me every time and makes me think that maybe I should drop liquid just one more time. If anyone has any Circle records they would like to share, I'll meet you underneath that old dead oak tree with a worthwhile trade.

Pharaoh Overlord is connected to Circle in some way or another, I don't recall at the moment. Horrible name for the only psychedelic folk space metal band I know of. These cats could play the same riff for an hour and have you begging for more. I will gladly upload their entire discography if there is enough interest.

http://rapidshare.de/files/16161872/Forest.zip.html

http://rapidshare.de/files/16173050/I.zip.html

Surrendering the ego...

2006-03-21T20:35:00.000-08:00

To be truthful, the idea of living and functioning in a commune or collective has always been kind of frightfully attractive to me. The model has been very fruitful for others, and assuming that I would take the Warhol position in some enviably creative ex-pat multi-media ensemble in Berlin or Prague or Barcelona or Tokyo, one would think that after a short period of momentum building, my slack shouldered and haute couture clad clan of conceptualists would rule the world before eventually tearing apart at the seams and dissolving into a self destructive and deceitful mess of has-beenery.

Oh yes, dear reader, I dare dream that big!

Amon Duul II is one of my favorite examples of the "whole is greater than the sum of it's parts" bit. Except for Renate Knaup, whose parts were pretty great on their own, if I may be so bold. AD2's dancing lemmings get me in the mood for communism even on my most selfish days.

The Galaxies' Incredibly Sensual Transmission Field of the Tower Recordings updates The Holy Modal approach and adds a dizzying lack of focus that will have you seeking the safety and comfort of others before you can say "Hare Krishna".

When the tribe of Telepathe head into the forests of Brooklyn, they plug in the campfire and pluck fx from feedback trees for their chant-a-longs. This EP is out now on The Social Registry. Rich's 30th is coming up and buying some music from his label is like buying him cake, (or paying his rent, depending on how you look at things).

http://rapidshare.de/files/16092139/Tanz_Der_Lemminge.zip.html

http://rapidshare.de/files/16106714/GISTFTowRec.zip.html

http://rapidshare.de/files/16107276/TeleFF.zip.html

THANKS to all of you for checking out this page. Your comments and compliments have been very encouraging. Special thanks to SAPIEN for Corky's Debt. Look closely, kids.

Influence

2006-03-20T15:23:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed that there are certain pieces/works of art, be it film, sculpture, a painted canvas, or music that are so "difficult" or "complex" that it may take several immersions over the years before one can fully wrap their heart & mind around it?

It is through the gradual exposure to additional seething beasts of cultural catharsis that we gain more insight and understanding of other glittering and glistening paragons. You can't expect someone raised on pop radio to fully comprehend Sun Ra.

After the absorption of other diseases, we slowly become enamored with our own rotting flesh.

The first time I listened to Red Krayola, I didn't know what was happening to me. 10 years later, I reference them all over this blog. Live at The Angry Arts & Berkeley Folk Festivals. A certain Mr. John Fahey sits in to add his own psychosis to the swirling anti-hippie madness. RK hold the honor of the only band on the bill asked to stop playing, please.

http://rapidshare.de/files/15971301/Live_1967___Angry_Arts_Festival.zip.html
http://rapidshare.de/files/15982578/Live_1967___Berkeley_Folk_Music_Festival.zip.html

In the owl's nest...

2006-03-19T18:02:00.000-08:00

Last week I spent a few in the East Village at the Establishment, compliments of Chouette.

If you're around there now or anytime, go get a ~Green~Tea~Custard~Cookie~ at PANYA (10 Stuyvesant St)...
Best $2 I've spent in my entire life, plus the whole place is run by the 3 cutest Japanese hippie girls I've ever had the opportunity to stare (almost) uncomfortably at for an awkward period of time.

Whatever. Mon Chaton bought me the best hat ever, apple-jack hand made borderline ridiculousness at La Coppola Storta. Caught Blood On The Wall at Mercury, good times at Daddy's, and attitude at APT. Chouette made me tea and gave me EmbryoNNCK, which I pass on to you, dear reader.

EDIT: Chouette asked me to take this record down. I will, however post a new link with a few choice tracks. As always, support the artists and buy the record, (from an independent record shop, of coarse), and catch 'em live when they come your way.

I've been looking for myself everywhere I go...

2006-03-19T15:59:00.000-08:00

Perhaps I will find a me here.
What follows will be an exercise in decadence and self absorption.
A small gift may be enticing, no?
Mr. Kevin Ayers has a voice that I can dream of tonight. Good for laughter and tears, sleeping and breathing.
This is Joy Of A Toy. You're welcome.

http://rapidshare.de/files/15941268/JOAT.zip.html