Silber
The debut release by this Louisville, KY, musician is cut from a verysimilar grain as the recent works by Jon DeRosa and Nathan Amundson,though with the added twist of a very clever sense of humor. Barnesdoesn't take himself too seriously on these songs even though they areof the most intimate sort, recorded over a year in his bedroom likesome indie-folk Moby. He does wear his influences a bit too proudly onhis sleeve, though, even covering "Anyway..." by Rivulets and thankingthe obvious objects of comparison in the liner notes. I'll forgive thatany day, though, when the work is this full of promise and yetbrilliantly quirky all in the same moment. Barnes plays all theinstruments on Acrobat,which basically amounts to guitar and minimal percussion, but thesimplicity of this music and his vocal presence make it seem like somuch more. The title track is sickeningly sweet but with a morbid edge,as the narrator falls for a girl like an acrobat who plummets from thewire. Barnes sings about her picking up his limbs and putting them backin their sockets before the vultures come and it's still the sweetestsong about love I've heard this year. The songs run the gamut ofemotions and situations, from swerving into oncoming traffic on "GamesWe Play on Road Trips" to unrequited love that turns to murder on "waitFor Her" (incidentally, any folk song that actually uses the word"shiv" soars to the top of my list instantly). Barnes is notnecessarily an innovator, but his debut album is accomplishednonetheless; not too shabby for a 21-year-old college dropout.
The debut release by this Louisville, KY, musician is cut from a verysimilar grain as the recent works by Jon DeRosa and Nathan Amundson,though with the added twist of a very clever sense of humor. Barnesdoesn't take himself too seriously on these songs even though they areof the most intimate sort, recorded over a year in his bedroom likesome indie-folk Moby. He does wear his influences a bit too proudly onhis sleeve, though, even covering "Anyway..." by Rivulets and thankingthe obvious objects of comparison in the liner notes. I'll forgive thatany day, though, when the work is this full of promise and yetbrilliantly quirky all in the same moment. Barnes plays all theinstruments on Acrobat,which basically amounts to guitar and minimal percussion, but thesimplicity of this music and his vocal presence make it seem like somuch more. The title track is sickeningly sweet but with a morbid edge,as the narrator falls for a girl like an acrobat who plummets from thewire. Barnes sings about her picking up his limbs and putting them backin their sockets before the vultures come and it's still the sweetestsong about love I've heard this year. The songs run the gamut ofemotions and situations, from swerving into oncoming traffic on "GamesWe Play on Road Trips" to unrequited love that turns to murder on "waitFor Her" (incidentally, any folk song that actually uses the word"shiv" soars to the top of my list instantly). Barnes is notnecessarily an innovator, but his debut album is accomplishednonetheless; not too shabby for a 21-year-old college dropout. 
The members of the Love Depression were 17 and 18 years old when theyrecorded this album in their native Venezuela in 1968. They were loversof rock music, and like many teenagers they started a band to paytribute to their idols. Unlike a lot of garage bands that have beenuncovered by a number of compilations, The Love Depression does not domuch to aspire to "lost classic" status. With only one original songthat bows at the temple of Cream and Hendrix, and eleven covers ofvarious hits of the 1960's, The Love Depressionis a strong contender for the least essential release of the year.Their repitoire revolves around the hits of their era (and much ofclassic rock radio today). From "Crossroads," attributed to RobertJohnson in the credits yet clearly more informed by Eric Clapton, to"Stone Free," it's a pretty mundane ride through the jukebox. There aresome surprises, like the appearance of Otis Redding's "Sweet SoulMusic," and some inexplicable choices like Cream's "Toad" complete withextra-long drum solo. It's not exactly up to Ginger Baker standards.Take that however you wish. When singer Jesus "Torito" Toro throwhimself into Procol Harum's "Whiter Shade of Pale," it's difficult tosort through the mixed emotions that the song provokes. On the onehand, there is the disappointment of having to endure the tunelessrendition. On the other hand, I found myself becoming angry. The onlymotivation for releasing this that I can conceive of is so these trackscan be relegated to ironic mix tapes or goofy soundtracks so everyonecan laugh when he pushes through the lyric about "sissteen vestalbirrrrgins" through his thick, Venezuelan accent. Musically, theycapture the song decently, but it's hardly anything special. I don'tknow if it's the sense of earnestness in which they perform "WhiterShade of Pale," or the memory of the original song in my mind, but bythe song really did affect me. Not in a transcendent, revelatory waythat so-called lost classics should, but in a rather gloomy way,skeptical about the potentially sneering motivations and intentionsbehind the release. Their cringe inducing cover of Percy Sledge's "Whena Man Loves a Woman" manages to produce an effect I like to call"sympathetic embarrassment," the feeling you get when you areembarrassed for the performer, but god bless them for getting up thereand trying it. These performances are usually followed by loud, yetuneasy applause. The Love Depression sounds like a moderately talentedcover band whose singer does his best to work around those foreignpronunciations and his unfortunate tendency to bleat and slur thewords. There's something to be said for culling the archives forridiculous, obscure records that serve no other purpose than to amusemodern tastes. Usually they involve singing Christian puppets oroverblown, pretentious "what were they thinking" acts. The LoveDepression seems like a bunch of guys who just wanted to have funplaying their favorite songs, and though they don't exactly stand thetest of time, I don't think they deserve excess ridicule. If youdisagree, I have an old cassette of my high school band doing a musicalversion of T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" thatsegues into "Born Under a Band Sign" I'd be willing to sell you. Ihonestly hope no one uncovers that in thirty years. 
LPD fans are once again rewarded for their patience with the issue of a classic cassette-only release. Traumstadt 1is an important artifact in the history of the Dots and the wait waswell worth it. The original release was the first in a series ofcassette issues that started off by reissuing earlier deletedcassettes. It was later followed up with other live and studiocomilations and even one with all new material. Most of which hassurfaced through various CD compilations like Stained Glass Soma Fountains, Under Triple Moons, The Legendary Pink Box, Prayer for Aradia, and the live CD-Rs released on Terminal Kaleidoscope. This one contains the full releases of both Apparition and Atomic Roses, each which first surfaced in 1982. Much like the release of Basilisk,the remastering job is simply amazing, given the original sources werevery primitive cassette recordings. Additionally, the annoyance ofhaving a multitude of songs sharing a track is present again. Atomic Rosesopens with what was side one of the original tape release. "Part 1" isa collection of six songs, including "Closet Kings," which appeared on The Legendary Pink Box,"Sex," (an alternate version of "Violence," with the words completelydifferent), the charming "What's Next," some playful noodlings andbackwards bits. "Hauptbahnhof," (also appearing on The Legendary Pink Box)opens "Part 2," which also includes "Passing Thought" and two earlyversions of "Atomic Roses." While a number of these songs are familiarto LPD fans, it's an almost voyeuristic treat to hear them in thecontext of their original work without the overbearing hiss thataccompanies the original quiet recordings. One of the remarkableobservations any Dots fans can also make from these recordings is howtight the band actually was at such an early point, with a talentedbass guitarist, Roland Calloway matched with subtle, primitive synths(uncredited to the Silverman - perhaps he wasn't actually on theserecordings), drum machines and Edward Ka-Spel's refrained voice. Apparitionis equally rewarding, but more sounding like cute bedroom demos,opening with cheesy video game samples and cheap Casio-like keyboards.Included in each of the mixes are early versions of "God Speed," "ThePlague," and the only appearance of "Premonition 3." Despite Atomic Roses listing the members including Barry Gray on guitar and Patrick Paganini (Wright) on violin, it isn't until the songs on Appraritionthat the two are prominently heard. It's this combination which laterevolved into the sounds on early LP releases that captivated labelslike Play It Again Sam and overseas licenses from WaxTrax!, Caroline,and eventually Soleilmoon. The disc closes with a bonus track, "NoBell, No Prize (Version Ridiculous)," only previously available on anobscure various artists cassette compilation and surprisinglyappropriate (given the history of LPD reissue) as it's from the sameera as the rest of the material contained. Once again, Beta-Lactam'sfont choice leaves much to be desired, but they did get the artworkfrom original releases, which is nice to see. Truth be told, I'm muchmore a fan of straight up reissues like this than aforementionedcompilations tossed together from various sources which often omitsongs here and there. There's still more stuff left in the vaults fromthe Dots, like Traumstadt 4, Chemical Playschool 1 & 2, and other odds and ends so let's hope this campaign doesn't end here.
I'd never heard of the Monkey Power Trio before their latest and eighthrelease, and that may not be all that surprising. For the past eightyears, the band has met in a common location to play and record for oneday together. No live shows. No rehearsals. One day together for thepurposes of recording a seven-inch single that they will releasethemselves. They do this without any real knowledge of the instrumentsthey take into their hands even. In what may be the greatest inverse tothe theory that poor concept equals poor output, however, these popgems continue to improve with each release. The MPT honor theiroriginal gimmick fervently, insisting they will hold to it until allthe other members are dead and the sole remaining member records a soloalbum.This stuff is just too bizarre to pass up, even though the melodies andmusicianship are clearly in the amateur category. "I Love My Life" is asimple declaration with lyrics about strolling the streets of Athens,GA, and a crumhorn that won't hurt the beautiful babies, but thenregresses into simple rock chords and screams of the title. "Mike Smithis Evil," on the other hand, is a strange mellow trip into the problemof its namesake, complete with the "evil" vocal delivery and oddsynthesizer. It's juvenile, but all in good fun, and represents thefinest melody the band possesses on the release. Side B is more of thesame, with "Almost Clear" taking a few cues from scientology andexperimentalism to create a dreamlike wash, and "Systematic Problem"dissolving it all in a wash of noise and childlike banter. As it fadesout, it's reminiscent of when the PRMC would play records backward atpress conferences in order to prove satanic messages were within.
The recent hype surrounding German labels like Shitkatapult and BPitchControl has failed to implicate these labels? English brother, AIRecords, an imprint that has achieved a similar, and consistentlyexciting blend of vintage electro, house, and IDM as of late. New Townis the first AI dual-format compilation, and all-exclusive, it servesas the perfect introduction to a label whose reputation is clearly notdue to the relative obscurity of its earlier releases. The compprovides an archly fluid listen; it's an impeccably picked and pacedjourney through the AI roster. I was so involved during first listenthat I had to scan some of the gaps later to check if the disc was acontinuous mix. (It is not.) The music travels from the balls-out,trance-induced techno of Andy Freer who opens the disc, to ADJ's grittyatmospherics, to SWF's aggravated ghetto tech and back in the span ofonly a few minutes. The sounds of Detroit and vintage Warp mingle mostbeautifully in tracks by label posterboy Claro Intelecto. Intelectoappears twice in New Town, first with the eerie, Drexciyanelectro of "Delete," a song grounded by a single, oscillated, andpositively electric synth note, and next with the light, syncopatedrhythms of "Breathless," which threatens to drift into sweet oblivionif not for groaning bass underneath it all. Other tracks like Fold's"Donna Hectic" integrate unlikely machine drones into low-level,foot-stomping electro that remains thoroughly accessible; T.R.I.P.'s"Donald Plays Techno" sees cold atmospheric strains butting in on anot-so-subtle disco groove. The common thread, though, is always thesongs' emotional resonance, which suffers no shortage on New Town.While other electronic labels may rely heavily on conceptual odditiesor alien sound sources to make their records go, AI seems to have itsheart planted firmly on its sleeve. Whether or not this is due to the(somewhat) overstated influence of certain Warp artists may be open todiscussion, but this cannot detract from the simple irresistibility ofeverything included here. New Town could be the best, most soulful electronic compilation I've heard all year. 
The new album from Laika couldn't have arrived in a more a timelymanner for me and the rest of the Boston-based fans. As I listened tothe first song, "Girl Without Hands," words from the chorus sprung out:"White snow is falling down / falls down hits the ground," as NewEngland's first snow of the season fell. Laika's fourth album, like thefirst snowfall of the season (as anybody who experiences snow knows),is beautiful, but somehow doesn't quite stick the first time.Stylistically, Whatever I Am I Am What Is Missingfalls in line with its predecessors: chunky yet elegant instrumentation(live, electronic, sampled and programmed) balanced out by Fiedler'sairy vocals and poetic lyrics. However, at ten songs, the new album ismore concise than the almost overpacked Sounds of the Satellites and more cohesive than the drifting Good Looking Blues, and this is where it truly succeeds. Overall, it also has a richer, more mature sound. The only place where Whatever I Am seems to be lacking is in the strength of its songwriting. Laika settheir own standard for brilliance in this area with tracks like"Looking for the Jackalope," "Uneasy," or "Breather," all of whichimmediately leap out even after just one listen. Only "Alphabet Soup,"with its lilting chorus even approaches being a fresh out-of-the-boxattention-grabber, while the other songs tend to fade into thebackground and get lost amongst each other. This is not to suggest thatthe songwriting is poor, but simply that there isn't as much that makesfor as compelling a listen as what Fiedler & Fixsen haveaccomplished already. 
For the last five years, The Magic Carpathians Project have released ahandful of superlative but criminally ignored albums ofethno-psychedelia. The core of the group is vocalist Anna Nacher andinstrumentalist Marek Stycynski, who was the leader of the seminalPolish psychedelic-progressive rock band Atman for 25 years. TheCarpathians are augmented by a constantly revolving line-up of guestmusicians. Their sublime Ethnocoretrilogy impressed me with its haunting melodies and deep psychedelicdrones, based on cross-germinations of traditional folk of their nativePoland together with indigenous music and instruments from around theglobe. The Magic Carpathians utilize transcendental combinations ofharmonium, hurdy-gurdy, accordion, guitar, violin, sitar and Carpathianwoodwinds harmonized with more modern conceits such as vintagesynthesizers, tape loops and field recordings. Their unique hybridseems perfectly in line with the nomadic gypsy culture of Carpathia.The gypsies originated in India and traveled throughout the world,settling in the Middle East, Africa, Eastern Europe, Great Britain andSoutheast Asia, gathering disparate cultural influences along the way.The Carpathians' mindbending new album Euscorpius Carpathicusadds Outer Space to the list of regional influences, concentrating onsparse cosmic settings, atmospheric production and haunted vocals. It'sa conscious move away from the massive drones of previous releases.This is clear from the opening track "Fishyfish," a loosely improvisedassemblage of Chinese and Slovakian flutes set against the galacticripples of an EMS VCS311. The ghostly "Lavender, Satin &Gingerbread" features the fragile vocals of Anna Nacher, recallingBjork's intimate delivery on Vespertine. For "Pawpaw Girl" themulti-tracked vocals are at the fore, as a meandering bass and a forestof gentle chimes answer her plaintive intonations: "Straight to thegarden/until I find/a way below the surface/below the waterfall". "FatMoon" is the album's most evocative track, a 12-minute ambient lunarorbit featuring delicately reverberating guitars and eerie saxophonesqueals that leave vaporous trails of ectoplasm in their wake."Amp.ass" is an atonal clamor of chaotic free-jazz, assisted by thenoisy distortions of an overloaded guitar amp. The tense, forwardmomentum of "Water On the Hill" operates as an invocation to nature,cyclical layers of trancelike guitar ornamented by synthesizedbirdcalls. With Euscorpius Carpathicus, The Magic Carpathianshave expanded their already impressive musical scope even further,without losing that essential spark of creative intuition thatconsistently impregnates their music with its uniquely spectral beauty. 
Things have changed since 2001's Oh, Inverted World. The first full-length from this group took a while to sink into my bones, but after it did, it became one of my favorite albums. Their newest full-length just isn't different enough from their first album to evoke the kind of excitement that every song did on their debut.
The aquatic quality of dub rhythms is something I always attribute tothe calming effect it has on me. There's nothing better than a soupymess of beats and semi-melodies to make a rainy day feel complete.Mitek (in the CD form) has put together a compilation of thirteentracks representing thirteen different arists from Scandinavia. Themusic is subtle, pulsing, and sometimes a bit tiresome. Each artist hassomething of a distinct style about them, but there is no doubt thatthere is a similar influence riding inbetween every musician on thisdisk. Songs like "P_Process" and "Skm3" are both over six minutes inlength and both echo through space like a wet rubber band. Both songsalso happen to sound a bit too much alike and after nearly thirteenminutes of nonstop reverberations and painfully similar productionqualities, the relaxing quality begins to fade into a bright annoyancethat has me reaching to change the song almost every time. Taken alone,the individual songs are good slices of minimal beats, bass heavymelody, and sizzling atmospheres. As a whole, this compilation doesn'treally work. The album runs over an hour in length and many of thetunes are simply too abstract to be dealt with one after another. Iunderstand this is supposed to be an introduction to a label full ofelectronic bass-heads, but it needs to be listened to in pieces to besuccessful. Not everything is outstanding and not everything isterrible: there are a few great songs and a few not-so-great songs.Just don't think this can be listened to from beginning to end. Doingso will only bring frustration to the surface and spoil what mightotherwise be enjoyable. 
