Following the 2003 release of Like Hearts Swelling, Sandro Perri began performing under his own name, incorporating more organic sounds as opposed to the processing, and perhaps overprocessing, that Polmo Polpo was regarded for. This five-track EP provides a conceptual bridge between the older sound and new sound as it began as reinterpretations of the songs from Like Hearts Swelling but has evolved a bit further.
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Proof that Jesus must have had soul sits in this collection of "gospel funk" songs. The grooves on these songs are as thick and rockin' as anything any secular performer put to wax, but they're all songs of praise, tolerance, hope, brother/sisterhood, redemption, and soul-fueled love. If the churches around here played this stuff at their Sunday service, I'd be there every weekend, ready to communicate with God.
Disliked in their native country of New Zealand, associated with drug-assisted hallucinations and blackouts, and evidently crazy enough to plan their own deaths, the trio of Michael Morely, Robbie Yeats, and Bruce Russell also happen to be more brilliant than most bands they're compared to. This collection is superb: competent enough to entice new listeners and pull in folks that already love their music and want more.
This worthy album by sextet Sparrows Swarm and Sing links traditional song with post-rock and pantheist imagery. SSAS create beautiful music with apocalyptic undercurrents which at times achieves a cinematic splendor.
The Graveyards trio continue their journey past the last markers of free jazz playing with this, at times barren sounding, clear vinyl. Brokenresearch releases are well known for their superbly understated art direction, but this is probably their most striking cover yet. A bright yellow sleeve holds an image of a set of teeth, looking like a cross between Giger’s Alien and an aging Dracula.
This is a poorer than average effort from Christina. The four pieces are all meant to sound similar as they are all in the same key and made of the same chords, but for me, the results show little development beyond self indulgent jamming and sound thrown together and boring. This concept sounds less than exciting on paper and in practice it doesn't work as well as hoped.
While back in San Francisco after a lengthy self-imposed European exile, Tuxedomoon recorded these spontaneous compositions for a film loosely based on Brion Gysin’s novel The Last Museum. The result is an inspired and tantalizing album that thrives independently of its designation as a soundtrack.
At last! Someone has had the good manners to include a CD-R with their lathe cut release. This 8” split sees both acts going in the opposite direction of their usual material, making the best records of their discographies so far. The Low Point label continues its roll of great music, with label head Gareth Hardwick offering up something a little more composed than usual and Last of the Real Hardmen hitting subdued free rock.
With the sleeve featuring portraits of grandparents and great grandparents, it is easy to think that We Can Driving Machine will be soft on the ears. The opening piece (none of the tracks have titles) is a scratchy recording of an old lady singing about nightingales. The cuddly grandmother theme led me into a false sense of security and I was totally unprepared for the sheer chaos that ensued. The rest of the album hurtles out of the speakers like a comet; it is a seriously heavy adventure.
