Plenty of new music to be had this week from Laetitia Sadier and Storefront Church, Six Organs of Admittance, Able Noise, Yui Onodera, SML, Clinic Stars, Austyn Wohlers, Build Buildings, Zelienople, and Lea Thomas, plus some older tunes by Farah, Guy Blakeslee, Jessica Bailiff, and Richard H. Kirk.
Lake in Girdwood, Alaska by Johnny.
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Betty Davis LITA 026 CD UPC: 826853002622 Originally released 1973
They Say I'm Different LITA 027 CD UPC: 826853002721 Originally released 1974
1. If I’m In Luck I Might Get Picked Up 2. Walkin Up The Road 3. Anti Love Song 4. Your Man My Man 5. Ooh Yeah 6. Steppin In Her I. Miller Shoes 7. Game Is My Middle Name 8. In The Meantime PREVIOUSLY UNRELEASED BONUS TRACKS (1974) 9. Come Take Me 10. You Won’t See Me In The Morning 11. I Will Take That Ride
1. Shoo-B-Doop and Cop Him 2. He Was A Big Freak 3 Your Mama Wants Ya Back 4. Don’t Call Her No Tramp 5. Git In There 6. They Say I’m Different 7. 70’s Blues 8. Special People
PREVIOUSLY UNRELEASED BONUS TRACKS (1973) Record Plant Rough Mixes 9. He Was A Big Freak 10. Don’t Call Her No Tramp 11. Git In There 12. 70’s Blues
If Betty were singing today she would be something like Madonna, something like Prince only as a woman. --MILES DAVIS
She introduced Miles to Hendrix's music and got him interested in the hardcore rock stuff. --HERBIE HANCOCK
Betty was a G for real. --ICE CUBE
When I first saw her album cover, I fell in love. --RICK JAMES
Warning: She is pure uncut funk way ahead of her time. --PRINCE PAUL (De La Soul, Handsome Boy Modeling School)
She was the first Madonna, but Madonna is more like Marie Osmond compared to Betty Davis. Betty Davis was a real ferocious Black Panther woman. You couldn't tame Betty Davis. --SANTANA
First official Betty Davis reissues
Mastered from the original tapes (first time since the ‘70s!)
Previously unreleased bonus tracks
Ice Cube, Talib Kweli, and Ludacris have rhymed over these tracks
Betty recorded some of the finest punk-funk of all time, introduced Miles to Hendrix, and inspired generations
Each CD release includes an elaborate digipak and deluxe 32-page booklet
New notes from Oliver Wang (O-Dub/Soul Sides), including Betty’s second interview in over 25 years!
HER STORY:
One can hardly imagine the genre-busting, culture-crossing musical magic of Outkast, Prince, Erykah Badu, Rick James, The Roots, or even the early Red Hot Chili Peppers without the influence of R&B pioneer Betty Davis. Her style of raw and revelatory punk-funk defies any notions that women can't be visionaries in the worlds of rock and pop. In recent years, rappers from Ice Cube to Talib Kweli to Ludacris have rhymed over her intensely strong but sensual music.
There is one testimonial about Betty Davis that is universal: she was a woman ahead of her time. In our contemporary moment, this may not be as self-evident as it was thirty years ago - we live in an age that's been profoundly changed by flamboyant flaunting of female sexuality: from Parlet to Madonna, Lil Kim to Kelis. Yet, back in 1973 when Betty Davis first showed up in her silver go-go boots, dazzling smile and towering Afro, who could you possibly have compared her to? Marva Whitney had the voice but not the independence. Labelle wouldn't get sexy with their "Lady Marmalade" for another year while Millie Jackson wasn't Feelin' Bitchy until 1977. Even Tina Turner, the most obvious predecessor to Betty's fierce style wasn't completely out of Ike's shadow until later in the decade.
Ms. Davis's unique story, still sadly mostly unknown, is unlike any other in popular music. Betty wrote the song "Uptown" for the Chambers Brothers before marrying Miles Davis in the late '60s, influencing him with psychedelic rock, and introducing him to Jimi Hendrix -- personally inspiring the classic album 'Bitches Brew.'
photo courtesy of Baron Wolman
But her songwriting ability was way ahead of its time as well. Betty not only wrote every song she ever recorded and produced every album after her first, but the young woman penned the tunes that got The Commodores signed to Motown. The Detroit label soon came calling, pitching a Motown songwriting deal, which Betty turned down. Motown wanted to own everything. Heading to the UK, Marc Bolan of T. Rex urged the creative dynamo to start writing for herself. A common thread throughout Betty's career would be her unbending Do-It-Yourself ethic, which made her quickly turn down anyone who didn't fit with the vision. She would eventually say no to Eric Clapton as her album producer, seeing him as too banal.
In 1973, Davis would finally kick off her cosmic career with an amazingly progressive hard funk and sweet soul self-titled debut. Davis showcased her fiercely unique talent and features such gems as "If I'm In Luck I Might Get Picked Up" and "Game Is My Middle Name." The album Betty Davis was recorded with Sly & The Family Stone's rhythm section, sharply produced by Sly Stone drummer Greg Errico, and featured backing vocals from Sylvester and the Pointer Sisters.
Her 1974 sophomore album They Say I'm Different features a worthy-of-framing futuristic cover challenging David Bowie's science fiction funk with real rocking soul-fire, kicked off with the savagely sexual "Shoo-B-Doop and Cop Him" (later sampled by Ice Cube). Her follow up is full of classic cuts like "Don't Call Her No Tramp" and the hilarious, hard, deep funk of "He Was A Big Freak."
Tragically, these days Betty Davis is dead broke, living in the Pittsburgh ghetto. For the first time, her critically adored first two albums are being lovingly re-mastered from the original master tapes by Light In The Attic Records to sound as ferocious and revolutionary as they did when they first sprung on an unsuspecting world in the early '70s. These reissues mark the first time that Betty will receive proper royalties for her music on CD.
In addition to the restoration of the incredible original cover art, the compelling and heartbreaking liner notes written by author and respected soul music scholar Oliver Wang (O-Dub/Soul Sides) include her second interview in many decades, making these essential reissues for any soul, progressive punk, or funk-rock collection.
This is a case where the cover definitely matches the book. Upon seeing Seldon Hunt's artwork for this release my first thought was "it looks like prog rock meets black metal." And while it doesn't quite sound like the paring of Rick Wakeman and Malefic, it does have that mix of lush symphonic electronics combined with metal riffing. The duo of Aidan Baker and Leah Buckareff have created another successful release on the always excellent Archive label.
If doom metal had a slightly awkward sibling who wrote poetry, this would be it. Nadja's release on Archive consists of a single 62 minute track that showcases their talent for creating fuzzed out ambient soundscapes infused with sludge guitar noise. The Canadian duo's work recalls Jesu's death shoegaze mixed with Sunn O)))'s monolithic riffing, but they still manage to retain an identity all their own.
The overall formula is pretty basic: fuzzed out drone guitar, subtle bass, a distant metronomic drum machine, and ambient synth-like sounds. With only guitar and bass credited, we could simply be hearing heavily processed guitar work, but either way, the rhythm's are there. Structurally the disc varies tempos and densities throughout, but all the while retains a lush, floating feel.
On the whole the disc remains more calm and mellow. The playing swells to a Cop/Young God-era Swans level during the first half of the album and then eases into more riff-oriented parts following. Even the guitar noise/feedback section towards the last 15 minutes of the album is buried low in the mix; it expands quietly beneath layers of ambient guitar and bass.
Thaumogenesis is an enjoyable work. My biggest gripe would be that a bit of variation in textures would go a long way in fleshing the album out. The guitar and drum machine sounds stay relatively unchanged throughout the entire track, making it less of an "all the time" listen than it is an "in the mood" one. A wider variety of guitar effects and drum machine sounds over the span of this hour would have made for an even more compelling listen than it already is.
Myth of the Love Electrique is another scorcher from these ridiculously prolific psych masters. While navigating their massive catalog can be an intimidating endeavor, this album is notable for being the debut of their newest band member: Kitagawa Hao. He fills the void left by the departure of Cotton Casino a few years back. Kitagawa's presence doesn't dominate the recording by any means, but her contributions nicely complement the swirling chaos the group generates.
Comprised of four lengthy tracks, the album explodes with a start: "The Man from Giacobinid Meteor Comet." Kawabata Makoto's guitar quickly becomes a tangle of screams, a frenzied surge that drags the band along with it. The rhythm section is ferocious. Bassist Tsuyama Atsushi frequently ventures out to the stratosphere, but he also knows when to hold back or to provide a vaguely melodic foundation. Likewise, the amount of energy drummer Shimura Koji dedicates to his performance is a lesson in endurance. Divided into three movements, this track eventually cools down and then glides to a drone landing, alighting the listener breathlessly upon calmer ground.
Kitagawa's voice makes its first appearance on "Five Dimensional Nightmare," floating over a bouzouki arrangement that sounds like singing glass. This one is divided into three sections like the previous track, but starts airy and then goes into a drone as Tsuyama briefly takes over the vocals. From here, strings are tortured like fingernails on a blackboard before a guitar and Higashi Hiroshi’s water drop electronics restore balance.
As much as I loved the two previous tracks, the band forges ahead into something different on "Love Electrique." Kitagawa's presence is most felt on this track. Her voice streaks across the mix as blistering guitars and freaky electronics blast all over the place. Over the course of 20 minutes, it hits several different moods and textures on a truly transcendent journey.
Of the four tracks, only the live staple "Pink Lady Lemonade (May I Drink You Once Again?)" may seem a little redundant. Kitagawa, however, breathes new life into this standard by bringing her vocals to the fore over the entire track, as if restoring an element that previously had been missing. It's hard to call it a definitive version because so many other excellent versions already exist, but it is a great one in its own right. For fans who may be weary of this song after all of its appearances over the years, it is easy enough to stop the disc after gorging on the first hour of music, and it is still a welcome dessert if the mood should strike.
Acid Mothers Temple always manages to find a breath of fresh air at the most opportune times, and this is no exception. While remaining a tight unit, bringing Kitagawa into the fold adds another dimension to their chaotic sprawl without having to sacrifice any of their strengths on this incendiary album.
I cannot make heads or tails of Stefan Betke anymore.Completely removed from the original color-coded trilogy that helped define the digi-dub sound, his latest indistinct album of moody experimental electronica lacks the spark of his past classics, landing the artist among a glut of current producers operating in the same post-IDM doldrums.
I don't consider it unfair to hold Pole's current output to the standard set by his breathtaking beginnings released on a PIAS sub-label nearly a decade ago and then subsequently with Matador.To do otherwise would be senseless, especially since Betke has opted to maintain his most famous moniker despite his outright abandonment of the crackling echo chamber and haunting tones prepared on 1, 2, and 3.This disappointing decision is certainly within his rights, and if an artist's legacy is to be ruined then the most worthy entity to do so should be the artist himself.
While not necessarily a bad album, the easily forgettable Steingarten is hardly going to lift Pole out of the creative mire he landed himself in with his banal second trio of releases for Mute.While I have no confirmation that Pole was explicitly dropped from that label, I have my suspicions, especially considering this new full-length is self-released on ~scape, an imprint diminishing in relevance much like the artist who founded it.If Mute had indeed been given a crack at Betke's latest, I highly doubt that tepid tracks like "Schöner Land" or "Jungs" made the record a particularly desirable acquisition."Düsseldorf" at least tries to generate some excitement with its clubby 4/4 beat offering a little hope, though its comparatively short length shows an artist out-of-touch with the dancefloor.Truth be told, Pole's strengths never were on in that particular arena, which in turn makes this misguided attempt all the more dismaying.Still, Steingarten strangely fails to capitalize on his previously demonstrated assets in crafting midtempo and downtempo productions, though "Sylvenstein" comes the closest out of the nine.Directionless, Betke evidently lacks a clear vision for this project, giving his listeners little reason to continue following this lost leader on his path to certain obscurity and inconsequence.
The latest untitled work from Francisco Lopez takes sound effects from Hollywood blockbusters as its source material. Generally, I prefer the live albums of Lopez over the studio recordings, and this one, despite the intriguing concept, doesn't go very far toward changing that opinion.
The best part of this disc is the meticulous editing and excellent sound quality. The problem is that there doesn't seem to be much development or progress over the course of these 45 minutes. One could easily start the track at any point and not miss a thing. As varied as some of the film sounds are, after a while they become an endless pastiche of the same juxtaposed sounds separated by Lopez's usual weighted silences. It's a pattern that Lopez has used quite a bit, and its familiarity drains it of its unpredictability by now.
There are some good parts, like the section about 25 minutes into it with large chunks of clunky sounds battling back and forth, or the thunderous roars at the 37-minute mark, but these aren't quite enough to save it from fading into the background. Other than the gorgeous sound quality and the vigorous editing, the disc is not far from a spooky sounds demonstration LP found in the cheap bin at the record store. If anything, this illustrates the symbiotic relationship between sound effects and image, and how deeply they rely on each other for maximum impact.
Some uncompromising records of good quality seem predestined for neglect or obscurity. So it is with this taut and melodic release; an interesting mix of jaunty minimalism, baroque abstraction and a smidgen of the kind of understated, introspective instrumentation that is to myths of the American Old West as beer foam is to a glass.
On his debut, Jeffrey Bützer plays piano, toy piano, electric piano, accordion, toy accordion, melodica, glockenspiel, reed organ, banjo, harmonica, guitars, bass, autoharp, ocarina, tongue drum, drums & percussion. Regardless of whether or not we need a Jeffrey Bützer action figure to play those toy instruments, the result is most definitely an album, since it bears repeated listening from start to finish, thanks to a vigorous breadth and subtle development. The odd title track has an almost ska-like opening rhythm. The wheezing melancholy of "Wooden Giraffe" might be an out-take from The Draughtsman's Contract; while there is much darker avant-expressionism on "Her Body is a Swamp." The record carries an endemic quasi-gamelan pulse and has a physicality that sporadically twitches like the leg of a dreamer. Bützer knows the value of repetitive phrases but is brave enough to allow a surprising element of decay and breakdown to emerge, which, of course, in hindsight seems entirely natural. Either that, or he ran out of ideas.
Who is she and what did she get in exchange for her leg? Someone's hand upon it? A brief or lasting freedom? Regret? Does the title (as if Hans Christian Andersen's little mermaid in reverse) refer to the trading of some physical mobility to gain the means by which to articulate expression? Was it sacrifice, or gain? A life spared? Season tickets to Old Trafford? Is the leg of flesh or wood? We can enjoy this record and keep the mystery of speculation.
"Tarred and Feathered" sounds less like an experience of violent retribution than a pleasant afternoon spent by the river, having tea and cakes with the vicar's daughters.The pretty sounds on "Carbonated Sewing Machine" don't appear to be derived from a device for stitching. Actually, those which embroider "Valse 1" seem more imitative of such parlor machinery; as if figures in a tapestry wandered over to the next scene for a relaxing interlude. The track "Broken Blunderbuss, One Hundred and Sixty Three Black Bubbles" has the feeling of an epic journey begun, a sense which, apart from a see-sawing lull on "Part 2", is more-or-less maintained throughout the 6 parts that follow. A reference to El Topo is unavoidable.
On the final track, "Her Body is a Swamp," Bützer shows a willingness to dissolve compositional structure and also to incorporate a raw, noisier dynamic. Images of a motorcycle traversing sand dunes came to my mind, trying to avoid getting stuck; along with a vague sense of memory clinging to skin. It would be a stretch to wonder whether or not Jeffrey Bützer will follow a more minimalist path forged by such luminaries as Terry Riley, maybe choose to add words and singing to his work, perhaps veer whole-heartedly into a 21st Century folk dance music, or (more likely) plot another course entirely. Even if it is ignored or forgotten, She Traded Her Leg has enough pure listening pleasure and signposts for future projects that whichever way Bützer goes next, lies intrigue and, most probably, reward.
Amid the Noise is a meditative affair that almost seems therapeutic with its stark but invigorating compositions. These fragile songs have a way of both cleansing and purifying the ears, as if erasing the damage done by the sounds of hectic urban life that invade on a daily basis.
The group's discipline and dedication is evident in the way they build their tracks out of the fewest notes and textures for the fullest possible effect. Restraint seems to be a big factor in these compositions as sometimes only a stretched note or two vie for attention. Even when more sounds are introduced, they're often so subdued that they’re not immediately noticeable. Yet the results are rarely boring because their approach varies quite a bit, whether playing a series of chimes, a minor melody, or beats.
As much as I like the songs on their own, they're even better against the backdrop of Jenise Treuting's short films on the DVD that accompanies the album. The films themselves are static documentaries depicting street scenes from Manhattan and Tokyo, often with themes of transportation. The music lends scenes of the Manhattan skyline, a subway ride, a train platform, or the cavity between apartment buildings a quiet calm that cannot be obtained in reality, which in turn reinforces the music’s pensive qualities. Nothing much happens per se, but the music completes the images somehow, giving both an authority they might otherwise lack on their own.
This is a great package, and it's hard for me to imagine the music or the films existing independently of each other. They're perfectly complementary and together they accomplish the delicate task of both soothing and energizing simultaneously. It's a sublimely rewarding experience.
This first album by John Twells, aka Xela, has never sounded better. Reissued and remastered with a couple of bonus tracks, his fusion of beats and atmospherics are like delicate landscapes observed through the windows of a passing train, pristine environments admirable for their untouched beauty.
Drawing from a full textural palette, the album is imbued with an introspective calm without any unexpected intrusions. Even the restrained feedback on "An Abandoned Robot" doesn't upset the balance created thus far. One of the more unexpected sections is the serenely beautiful ending of "Bobble Hats in Summer" which makes me ache for that season. Contrasting this nicely is the extreme quiet of "Digital Winter," with its subdued static and chilly stream evoking a harsh climate.
With many mornings of frost clinging to the windows in recent memory, the first half of the album's title is particularly apt and makes winter that much more bearable. Conversely, the album's warmer sections make me anxious to test the title's second half as soon as possible. Although overall I slightly prefer Xela's newer material, this debut is nearly flawless and has all the qualities I enjoy from his recent work.
The Hair Police side of this split c30 (apparently it's out on CD too) release sounds like it was recorded at the demolition of a shipyard. The clank of anchor chains barely heard over the almost identifiable charred runs up and down feedback scales. The thing is, the Hair Police Halloween show never happened.
This is spliced and stuck together effort from several Hair Police modes of assault and mayhem, and it's better than 95% of the live noise show documentary output. Could any real gig be as fragmentary, heavy and unruly?
This leaves Redrot, even with their very capable violent industrial breakdown style, sounding pristine in comparison. Their three live songs still sound like they were made in a wind tunnel, beats hammered on rusty steel. There are splurges of sound starving the compositions as everything that comes out of the PA is spotted with dried blood. Barked vocals burst out from the music like some old school Prurient release, black venom dripping on the stage.
The real tape mangled intro (and outro) of the Hair Police side gives hints that this is an aggressive salvage job, and not just another show. Smashed pitches, defiant loner drums and feedback overlap fuse into a clawing at the speakers, like rats against bars being slowly roasted. These shows sound a lot less lonely and reflective/ugly than the majority of their studio work. The Aryan Asshole label claims that there could even be some Graveyards action rammed in there too; the section of reed abuse would certain support this theory. The Hair Police side falls apart in uncoupling tape, leaving a brief tagged on piece of acoustic rock. The only lyrics that make it out before the rough edit are ‘and it was a dark night in the city’. An ominous ending for a piece that sounds like some spilled soundtrack of a garden of burnt hives, the music flitting between styles in a ragged panic.
The Hair Police side of this split c30 (apparently it's out on CD too) release sounds like it was recorded at the demolition of a shipyard. The clank of anchor chains barely heard over the almost identifiable charred runs up and down feedback scales. The thing is, the Hair Police Halloween show never happened.
Content: The second long player from Lichens, like his first, the largely improvised The Psychic Nature of Being, is an ascent to a higher plane. Rob Lowe's sound recordings are of a distinctly personal nature, works turned inward as much as they are projected outward.
This new album was conceived with the idea of it being a continuation of the first, while using slightly different techniques in recording and editing; from multitracking individual passes, and pulling single tracks in and out of the mix ("vevor of agassou" "faeries"), to opening up into a completely different process by overdubbing multiple tracks ("m st r ng w tchcr ft l v ng n sp r t"). All this while remaining firmly within the realm of improvisation, augmented with the use of skeletal frameworks.
The accompanying dvd video contains a single live 28 minute performance from Chicago's Empty Bottle that was recorded in 2006. All Lichens live shows are individual events and are not mere duplications of previous performances. Thus, the performance here is a unique snapshot of the Lichens live experience. The film was directed and produced by Mary Scherer and edited by Todd Mattei.
Context: Rob Lowe is involved in collaborations with Cloudland Canyons and White Light, both of which are expected to produce albums in the coming year. He is also working on a collaboration with Alan Licht, and is currently a touring member of Rhys Chatham's guitar trio.
Track Listing: 1. Vevor of Agassou 2. Faeries 3. Bune 4. M St r ng W tchcr ft L v ng n Sp r t 5. Sighns
Quotes: "Lichens launches skyward eerie, hymnal moans; atomized guitar chords; and meditative Fahey-esque fingerpicking… and the special knowledge to which only the most spiritual cats are privy." Dave Segal-The Stranger
"The impression is fostered that this is a colossal living organism, branching out into uncultivated lands, foreign concerns" Max Schaefer-Comes With a Smile
"Robert Lowe has crafted a solo universe of purely psychedelic beauty and mystery" Dream Magazine
"It's simply stunning, epic and totally timeless." Broken Face
"Natural, unexplainable, unpremeditated but deeply musical." Splendid