Definitive Jux
"Dear Mr. P (Label Boss),
"Picked up the new Aesop Rock album on a trip to the local record storeon Tuesday. Interesting cover: lurid and hurt at the same time—itreminds me of the label in a lot of ways. The production is nice andvaried, too: simple fist-pumping and sparse beats in places, buzzingsynths and ringing metal in others. Neato, if maybe a bit too clever atthe expense of the beats at times.
"About halfway through, you make it known that some people have beentalking shit about you and your labelmates for not endlessly relivingthe glory of 1994. Thinking back on my opinion of rap in 1994 (too muchSnoop, too many guns, couldn't relate), I can't say that yours has beena change for the worse. Your response, though, that you've been doingyour thing for ten years now and that the shit-talkers are beneath yournotice, raises a question: Why do you have to hijack a track onsomebody else's album to dress down these `nobodies'?
"I'm all for personal meaning in rap, but beef is tedious, and sixminutes and change of beef IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMEBODY ELSE'S ALBUM (haveI mentioned that that parts bothers me?) is a sour note in an otherwisepretty good slab of music. Gunning for clowns, after all, is just so1994, and that's not where you're at, right?
"Don't let the turkeys get you down."
"Dear Mr. P (Label Boss),"Picked up the new Aesop Rock album on a trip to the local record storeon Tuesday. Interesting cover: lurid and hurt at the same time—itreminds me of the label in a lot of ways. The production is nice andvaried, too: simple fist-pumping and sparse beats in places, buzzingsynths and ringing metal in others. Neato, if maybe a bit too clever atthe expense of the beats at times.
"About halfway through, you make it known that some people have beentalking shit about you and your labelmates for not endlessly relivingthe glory of 1994. Thinking back on my opinion of rap in 1994 (too muchSnoop, too many guns, couldn't relate), I can't say that yours has beena change for the worse. Your response, though, that you've been doingyour thing for ten years now and that the shit-talkers are beneath yournotice, raises a question: Why do you have to hijack a track onsomebody else's album to dress down these `nobodies'?
"I'm all for personal meaning in rap, but beef is tedious, and sixminutes and change of beef IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMEBODY ELSE'S ALBUM (haveI mentioned that that parts bothers me?) is a sour note in an otherwisepretty good slab of music. Gunning for clowns, after all, is just so1994, and that's not where you're at, right?
"Don't let the turkeys get you down."
samples:
Satan, oscillate my metallic sonatas! A palindrome is a word or phrase that reads the same forward or backward. Drew Mulholland recorded this album of ritualistic electronics in celebration of our first palindromic year since, er, 1991. The album was recorded starting at 20:02 on 20/02 2002. Each track is 20:02 long. Get it? Pretty neato, huh? Ten animals I slam in a net.
This performance was filmed in New York City during the summer of 2000,
during the follow up tour to Eddie Izzard's breakout US tour Dress to
Kill, which subsequently became an Emmy award-winning hit as an HBO
special. While most of the cross-dressing actor / comedian's fans will
rejoice at the availability of more of his work (this DVD is one of only
three live gigs released in North America), those looking for a repeat of
the brilliantly funny previous release could be in for a disappointment.
Circle, which in fact does have a few brilliant moments, seems to
borrow heavily at times from Izzard's back catalogue of material. Although
his standup has always been thematic (religion, history, and politics are
frequent subjects of his largely improvised, often surreal onstage musings),
longtime fans will likely be able to pinpoint the specific previous sources
of various lines in this performance. Additionally, his frenetic switches
from subject to subject (Jesus conversing with dinosaurs one minute to
telling the Queen her dress is the "dog's bollocks" the next) and brief
confused pauses in which Izzard tries to get back on topic, seem less
slightly less charming and more perplexing than in Dress to Kill.
Nonetheless, decked out in Dolce & Gabbana leather S&M trousers, spiked
heels and diamond necklace, Eddie is still as intelligent, thoughtful and
lovable as ever. Whether he's doing an impression of God in a James Mason
voice, or acting out a "lost scene" from Star Wars in which Darth
Vader complains about the wet lunch trays in the Death Star cafeteria, he
strikes a wonderful balance between intellectualism and pure silliness.
What's more is the audience still seems to adore him, even when he seems to
be going astray, and Izzard is mutually respectful.
It all begins with a tinny, toy piano melody that seems to indicatethat we're entering some old, dusty dollhouse in someone's forgottenattic, populated by the porcelain dolls that are strewn through theliner artwork, who alternate between innocently angelic and eerilydemonic, with cracks in their glass and cloudy eyed glares that warnagainst entering this collage of splintered personality. Holding courtin this house are Brian Viglione and Amanda Palmer, the Dresden Dolls,whose name simultaneously conjures up tempting Weimar cabaret decadenceand the ensuing fiery disaster. Decked out in stark white makeup andburlesque couture they are a visually arresting band, but they areanything but window dressing. The Dolls have already made lastingimpressions on legions of audiences who have experienced theirformidable live show. Even without a full length, they play to sold outcrowds that most developing bands would kill for. The Dolls honed theirskills on stage and when it came time to make the leap to record theydid it on their own terms and on their own label, no less. On stage,the pair are mesmerizing, Palmer's face wrapping around every word andgiving them a liveliness held aloft by Viglione's booming retorts.Beneath the foundation and consignment shop assemblage lies a viciouscombination of talent, ideas, and dramatic flair that imbues The Dresden Dollswith a rising tension that ultimately grasps a hold of a satisfyingdenouement. The Dolls break open with the incindeary "Girl Anachronism"which revels in its doom and gloom stomp, Palmer's piano serving aspercussion as much as Viglione's drums. The song cuts deeply as Palmerspits out the chronicle of someone just out of phase with reality,haunted by instability and just screaming to make you understand whatshe's going through. On "Missed Me," Palmer plays the part of acoquettish little girl turned femme fatale with remarkable presence andpoise. She paints a deeply vivid portrait of the ill-informed dalliancewith her dark, manipulative side seeping out in every batted eyelashand cooing come on to the mister who should have known better. Herpiano unfurls a seductive tango melody that pops like swinging hips ina slinky, alluring strut. With the fury comes sighing introspection andself-examination, and tracks like "The Perfect Fit" delve into thepsyche that emits the frenetic static electric energy that buzzes offthe band. "Bad Habit" is tantamount to a mission statement, roaringthat "sappy songs about sex and cheating / bland accounts of two loversmeeting / make me want to give mankind a beating." The Dolls' Brechtiantheatrics don't hem them in, however. They excel at dark, moody sliversof song but at the core is still an irresistible knack at writingcompelling music and the words to back it up. "The Jeep Song," forexample, is a comparatively straightforward song about the anguish ofbeing reminded of a lost lover, with clever lyrics and positivelybright backup "ba da ba ba" singing. On the album's closer "Truce,"Palmer plaintively declares, "I am the ground zero." Listening to The Dresden Dollsit's easy to interpret that lyric in a way she most likely did notintend it. Through the craft and style exuded by this album, it feelsas if she and Viglione are destined to be the epicenter of a shock thatwill rattle the musically entrenched; to serve as a black leathergloved slap to the face, challenging the willing to step up and attemptto surmount their devastating fusion of thoughtful conception andflawless execution.
While plenty of Slowdive fans were quick to accept Mojave 3, I was not sold. My problems with their sound wasn't so much that I was expecting something along the lines of the drifting bliss of Slowdive, but the direction they took—picking and choosing elements from American country music like pedal steel guitar and harmonica—seemed rather half-hearted and out of place with faint vocals and bell sounds. Songs on the debut were weak in my opinion, almost like a discount Mazzy Star, but over the course of three albums I kept listening, things got better, but nothing bowled me over. Until now.
LTM is making brainwashed nerd wet dreams come true once again with thereissue of this, a pivotal point in 23 Skidoo's career, disliked bycritics and nearly buried by the group themselves. Each side of theoriginal LP was 23 minutes in length. The first, known as "A SummerRite," was recorded at the first WOMAD festival in July of 1982 (andfeatures David Tibet on Tibetan trumpet), the second was recorded inOctober of 1982 at the Darrington Music College using Gamelaninstruments and later mixed down to form the album side known as "AWinter Ritual." For the CD release, the sides were switched and sidetwo is now known as "Part 1" (tracks 1-5) and side two is now known as"Part 2." A far cry from the loud bass and thunderous dance productionsof 23 Skidoo's most famous works, "A Winter Ritual" is almost equallyas trance-inducing with its usage of Gamelan gongs and bell sounds.It's no surprise that with the engrossing circle of Genesis P-Orridge(who did production on another record) and David Tibet, that it'sstrikingly remeniscent of parts of Psychic TV's Themes 1 (a.k.a. Cold Dark Matter), recorded with Tibet and others and issued with Force the Hand of Chance."Part 2" is more abrasive, with tape loops and various other percussivenoises and effects, carefully mixed together in a mishmosh of soundthat is far from stagnant, weaving through various parts and phrases,ending on the blissful "Healing (For the Strong)," which appeared in aremixed version (as "Healing/Fanfare") on Crepuscule's Operation Twilight compilation, 23 Skidoo's The Gospel Comes to New Guineacollection, and sounds like it was sampled heavily ten years later forCoil's "Nasa Arab." The disc closes with a bonus unreleased track, themonsterous and fantastic 27-minute long "Move Back — Bite Harder,"noted as "Part 3: An Autumn Journey." Longer than each side of therecord, this bit was also recorded live in 1982 on a tour which alsofeatured Cabaret Voltaire and Tuxedomoon. Assembled entirely from tapeloops of noises, sampled radio transmissions, and the Turnbullbrothers' screamings, this was part of a recording made by Crepusculeof the tour, but has never seen the light of day. Unpredictable andcaptivating, it makes for an excellent addition to the rest of thesought after music contained. 
One thing to get straight right out of the gate: there should be nocorellation drawn between the title of Beulah's new record — the nameof the woman accused of breaking up the Beatles — and the fact thatseveral of the members went through divorces before and possibly evenduring its recording. Nor should it be considered a tell-tale sign thatthe end may be near for one of the few Elephant 6 bands left. In fact,it may have no relation to the music inside at all, which is without adoubt the finest batch of songs the band has ever unleashed. Beulah'snot gone "more mature" or "grown up" but just less free-form, sloppy,and damned indie rock. Gone are the post-mod singalong choruses andblaring horns, but still here are the wall of sound arrangements andvocal harmonies. Miles Kurosky is just as skeptical as ever, only nowhis fears are genuine, not goofily ironic. "A Man Like Me" is thisrecord's "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" in that it's a confidentbeginning with otherworldly touches about the end of the connectionbetween two people. The notch gets turned up on the next track,"Landslide Baby," which Kurosky says is the woman's answer to the firsttrack. It's poppy, quirky even, but it calls out the man for what heis. "You're Only King Once" (Y O K O... hmmm...) continues the soberJarvis Cocker-like self-examination, as though finally reality has setin. There are bills to be paid, mouths to feed, houses to own, andlegacies to think about. Almost a country tinge enters every now andthen, just to give that extra heartache, and lines like "I just wantyou happy" and "I never meant to clip your pretty wings" let you knowit's not for show. The confidence returns every once in a while in themusic, but still gets eclipsed by the gravity of the subject matter.This is a record about losing what you care about most, and realizingit's because if you really cared about it the most you would have shownit more care. Maybe there is a hidden meaning in that title after all.
Usuallly I find it challenging to discover releases from talentedartists among these piles of promotional and advance CDs. Often I'llspare a mediocre album (especially from a new artist) from the hostilewit often found in my reviews by simply leaving it be. So imagine mysurprise when I inserted Larvae's debut EP Monster Musicinto my stereo. Influenced by and sampling from Japanese monsterflicks, the opening track "Mothra" is a industrial-strength drum n bassbeast. Aggressive, dark, and catchy, it eventually morphs intodistorted hardcore techno that degrades into white hot sizzlingcacophony. Reminding of bass-fiend Mick Harris' Quoit project, as wellas his Shortcut To Connect album with Mick Harvey, "Ghidrah"liberally applies warbly low frequency pulses to skittering junglistloops, increasing the energy around the 3 minute mark with NON-like airraid sirens and noise textures. Stepping away from the dancefloor, thefinal two songs on this four track teaser EP shows off the duo'saffinity for dark dub and, for lack of a better word, illbient music.The head-nodding grooves of "Mecha" give the track a cinematic qualityand should appeal to fans of Techno Animal and other experimental urbanbeatmakers. Mothboy and The Dustmite's remix of "Mothra" crunches andgrinds as a slow pace, with the same Japanese movie samples taken downin tempo and heavily effected. It is both eerie and icy, winding downinto a cold dark ambience. I am guilty of playing this 21 minuterelease several times over the past month or so, and with their debutfull-length Fashion Victim due out on Ad Noiseam, I highly urgefans of Mick Harris, Justin Broderick, and Kevin Martin to grab this EPbefore it sells out.
