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Occasionally that CD comes along that is almost bizarrely unique, practically defying description due to its out-of-the-ordinary construction and hard to quantify affect on you. The Epidemic is certainly not a band that belongs on decidedly punk Ache Records, but that seems to be the point. The solo side project for Andy Dixon of d.b.s., and he's chosen a peculiar sonic path. "I Am Compltely Oprationa l" is a quirky debut release, combining an indie rock sensibility with vague electronic flashes and jilting experimentation with arrangements.Ache
Tracks start in one direction, abandon it and its tempo, and evolve into something else, usually better, only to flutter and fade over time from that structure to begin a new track. It's very engrossing, slightly confusing, and, ultimately, utterly creative. Vocal harmonies are delicate and slight, but beautiful; guitar lines blend together, playfully, then dissapear; electronic pulses, beeps, whistles, and howls come in, go out, feedback, and otherwise convolute, but never in a distracting way. Dixon's voice sounds like a combination of Blair Shehan (The Jealous Sound, Knapsack) and Ben Folds. It works well for this music, and for these lyrics: 'The West Coast As A Robot,' while featuring the robot-voiced sample that gives the album its title, also features the lines "Vancouver lifts like a cancer recovery" and "You don't have to make a hospital bed/cut her dosage in half." Someone had a horrible time in British Columbia. But still, the music is very sweet in a slightly disturbing way, full of gorgeous melodies and steady rhythms. This is the logical extension of emo: add some electronics, still make the kids sway at the shows, and punish them with lyrics of fury that are understated. Even the playful poke at the band's moniker how it relates to another well known band whose title is the anithesis of theirs, 'Robert Smith Vs. Crosstown Music,' is extremely tongue and cheek with a killer guitar line and synthesizer horns (plus the line "I'd listen to Disintregration if I owned it on vinyl, but the record store never seems to have it in"). It really is quite lovely, even if a bit short, and I look forward to hearing more from The Epidemic.
 
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Matador (North America) / Mute (UK)EMI buys Mute? Robert Rental, Michael Karoli and Frank Tovey die. Didthey fall or were they pushed? Are EMI hitmen knocking off the lesslucrative Mute artists so that back catalog can be hastily deleted withlittle complaint? Did anyone notice when they kidnapped Jon Spencer,entrapped him behind the Green Door and replaced him with Shakin'Stevens, that top 80s Welsh Elvis impersonator? There is some shakin'rock'n'roll going on tonight in this ole house, but these ears are justhearing a lot of mouldy old dough. The fang has little bite but chewson anyway in plastic denim clad daddy-o sideburn style. The only partcomparable in excitement to former Blues Explosion fun is the momentwhen opening track "Sweet 'N' Sour" crunches to a stop and fires upagain. I wish Shaky luck in this new found career and hope he will letJon free without too much brainwashing. No sound files on this one. Letthe corporate-u-lent fill up their own webspace. Genesis P. Orridgewatch your back!
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Tiger Style764 Hero, I feel, have never really received the acclaim and noticesthey deserve. And why? Their contemporaries in Built to Spill andModest Mouse, who 764 Hero even did a split EP with, have gone on fromUp Records to great acclaim and larger audiences. True, they signed tomajor labels to do so. And maybe that's what separated 764 Hero. Theyaren't willing to make sacrifices to move ahead. This, their fourthfull-length on Tiger Style Records, is a breath of fresh air for theband, and it sounds like they had the time of their lives making it. Aslight change of line-up - bass player James Bertram left the band,replacing him is Robin P, who, coincidentally, plays bass for ModestMouse on tour - means a slight change in the name, too, apparently, asthis is the first 764 Hero record without a hyphen in the band's name.It's the little things that count. With Phil Ek at the boards onceagain, the band has a great straightforward rock sound, showcasingtheir strengths in spades, even when they are slowing down the pace abit. John Atkins has always sounded a bit like Doug Martsch from Builtto Spill with his delivery, and on this record he embraces it withgusto, belting out each track as though it were his last attempt, andit's clearer in the mix than ever before. The band is tighter thanever, the songs are more confident and catchy. Atkins' lyrics arequirky, as always, providing fluent descriptions of change. This is thealbum that will get this band the individual notice they deserve. Let'shope so, at least.
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Two of Germany's renowned rhythmists unite. 'Secret Rhythms' is verymuch in line with Burnt Friedman's usual repertoire and Liebezeit'sbeats fit right in. So much so it's difficult to discern who does whatwhere. Not that it matters. Each of the 10 tracks fuses percussion,bass, keys, vibraphones by Copenhagen's Morten Grønvad and strains ofJosef Suchy's electric guitar into a gravity defying sort of ambientelectro jazz. Friedman foregoes samples, such as the many spoken onesfound on last year's 'Plays Love Songs', to keep the mix instrumentaland minimal but also very open and very comfortable. Track four beginsan all too brief dub deviation. "Shades of Soddin Orion" and"Rastafahndung" are stunning examples of what happens when Friedmanapplies his musical physics to, and thus redefines, dub. "Shades.." isthe album highlight, a gorgeous deep space journey of slippery bass andguitar notes and microscopic sound soup. The disc concludes with threeversions of "Obscured by 5" - short, Nonplace (Friedman's label) remixand 13 plus minute extended. The finale is the most satisfying with alengthy stretch of little more than gentle steel drums and the hustleand bustle of an unidentifiable inner city. Perhaps this is the secretrhythm Friedman and Liebezeit have found and wish to expose to the restof the world.
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Touch and GoJesus, Brick Layer Cake is a strange "band." Todd Trainer's (Shellac,Rifle Sport) one-man project that allows him to step out in front ofthe kit occasionally, hasn't released a record since "Tragedy Tragedy"in 1994. Trainer took the occasion of hs moving to Chicago to recordwith Steve Albini, and he plays every note, every beat, and sings everyline on "Whatchamacallit." And it's just getting weirder, folks. Again,it's the same formula: simple song stuctures, slower tempos, and alldriven by low register growl of contempt. Hell, it's even the same typeof cover photo as the last record. And the only thing that has changedis that apparently Trainer's contempt for most things around him. It'sincreased exponentially. From the first track, 'Stars,' Trainer isshredding people and situations apart. This is the harshest song withthat title EVER. Sample lyric: "One who fucked straight to the fuckingtop and didn't fucking stop fucking/blows everyone off." The musicitself leaves a lot to be desired, as it's often a bit cacaphonous withone crunchy guitar and one wailing guitar clashing. When it comestogether, though, it's pretty good. 'Softie,' for instance is justplain sinister, and would work very well if BLC played a haunted house.The problem is that since Marilyn Manson and others have used Trainer'svocal delivery style in the past few years, it's become very stale. Itdoesn't have the same affect, in fact on repeated listens I skip mosttracks. It all sounds incredibly juvenile, particularly because of thelyrics, specifically the use of the "fuck" word. If you liked BLCbefore, you'll probably like this one. I'm gonna say it was pretty goodthe first listen, pretty boring on repeated ones, and definitely listenbefore you buy.
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I cannot shake the image of Tom Waits, sprawled on a pile of trash in afilthy New Orleans alleyway with a half-finished bottle of bourbon inhis hand, looking like a bemused corpse as a passing foreign touristexclaims in broken English: "Life is a-strange and beautiful!" Thisscene from Jim Jarmusch's great film "Down By Law" starring Waits as anescaped convict and former disc jockey, perfectly encapsulates thehaunting dichotomy of Waits' thematic content: losers and fools,cynically yet romantically viewing the beautiful and filthy panorama ofthe human comedy with sinister bemusement and sad resignation. Eversince we were introduced to Waits' gallery of thieves, drunks,jailbirds, addicts and losers in 1973's "Closing Time", listeners whowere paying attention have witnessed one of the most successfulevolutions of a popular artist in the history of recorded music.Beginning as a kind of world-weary, lowlife version of Leonard Cohen,Tom Waits gradually honed his lyrics and songwriting skills throughoutthe 70's and 80's. However, it was not until 1983's"Swordfishtrombones" that we were introduced to a compositionalsoundworld that finally matched Waits' disturbing and profoundnarrative world. This sound was perfected with "Rain Dogs", a perfectmeeting of Waits' amazing songwriting skills and outstandinglyleftfield compositional genius. Since then, Waits' output has justgotten stranger and stranger, with atonal, arrhythmic and grotesquealbums such as "Bone Machine" and "Mule Variations", amazingexperiments that somehow fall short in the content department - Waits'trademark black humor and poetic lyricism are overwhelmed by thebombastic and distracting production. It seemed we would never again betreated to the masterful balance that characterized "Rain Dogs."
That is until last Tuesday, when Waits simultaneously released "Alice"and "Blood Money" on the Epitaph imprint. This dual release representsWaits' best work since the seminal "Rain Dogs" and contain morememorable songs and amazing composition than seems possible for anartist who should be well past his prime by now. The gravelly graveyardblues that dominated "Mule Variations" has been replaced with anatmospheric combination of dark lounge, Dixieland jazz, ragtime andtouches of dreamlike, surrealistic sound production worthy of a DavidLynch soundtrack.While the two albums do not drastically differ, "Alice" is generallymore surreal, dreamy and subdued; while "Blood Money" is lot morecynical and drenched with noisy blues. The lyrical content of "Alice"is jaw-droppingly poetic, especially on "Everything You Can Think,"where Waits wheezes and gasps the amazing lyric "We're fighting our wayup dreamland's spine/With red flamingoes and expensive wine/Everythingyou can think of is true." The strings, horns and syncopated percussionfit perfectly with the dark and bizarre melancholy narratives thatWaits spins. A spine tingling moment comes in "Watch Her Disappear" asWaits'voice gradually fades into the oblivion of the lovely organ,cello and violin melody. A lovely album. If you were only going topurchase one of the two, I would have to recommend "Alice", but youshould really just get both of them, as "Blood Money" is nearly asamazing.
"Blood Money" is the more pessimistic of the pair. The dirty,claustrophobic sound atmosphere is punched up with abrasive rhythms andnegative-as-hell lyrics. Waits alternately assures us that we are allgoing to hell, that we are all fools when we are in love, and that lifeis a sad riddle, filled with misery, that will never grow or change.There are two transitional instrumental tracks here that work verywell; it is almost a relief to hear the subtle instrumentals withoutbeing bludgeoned by Waits' raspy crooning. On the heartbreaking closer"A Good Man is Hard to Find", Waits' voice intones: "Go out to themeadow, scare off all the crows/It does nothing but rain here, andnothing ever grows." Tom Waits is a constantly evolving artist who has developed anoriginal, idiosyncratic universe that is instantly recognizable andalways intriguing. "Alice" and "Blood Money" represent his mostperfected expression of his universe in more than a decade.
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DAT Politics, a quartet of French laptop-players, represent everythingthat's good about contemporary DIY post-techno electronic music. Theirmusic is challenging yet undeniably fun, complex yet engaging as hell,and none of their albums (as far as I know) come with anything like amanifesto. This 3" CD is a solo release by E.Aelters, one member ofthat band, and is exactly as good as anything by the full group. Theseven tunes are upbeat, energetic, and pervaded by an infectious,invigorating joy. That the sense of play is heightened (rather thancompromised) by chopped-up noise and stammering tape-like effects thatzip maniacly around the stereo field is nothing less than an inspiredmiracle. The tunes and rhythms are made up of thick, block-like chunks(I am reminded of children's toys) and animal sounds (!), always inmotion, ensuring plenty to keep a listener's attention at severallevels. I had a huge smile on my face for the entirety of "Volu Beit"s22 minutes, then I hit "play" again and smiled some more. Highlyrecommended!
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I forgot to switch my record player to 45 RPM the first time I listenedto this seven-inch. I thought, Hey, this is pretty good. It's sort ofnew territory for Múm. It's very intently slow, and though it's gotsome electronics in the mix, the violin and keyboards sound very lo-fiand kind of eerie. It's really kind of beautiful. Then the vocals camein and I thought, These vocals are so painfully restrained and bizarre- like a low-pitched whispery falsetto. Is one of the girl twinssinging or is it one of the men? I can't tell. They're really expandingtheir sound. What a damn cool song. I listened to it again, transfixed.Then I remembered that I hadn't switched the speed on the turntable...So I listened to it again at 45 RPM, and I realized that I'd beenassessing the song totally at the wrong speed. At a faster speed, thesong was more recognizably Múm - the electronic beat was faster, moreof a groove, the keyboard sounds were more like I remembered they wereon 'Yesterday Was Dramatic...' and some of the drums sounded like realdrums. When the female voice started singing, recalling "Ballad of theBroken Birdie Records," it was obvious that this was the correct speed.And I thought, What a damn cool song - and so completely different of afeel when from when I thought it was so slow. Now I'm itching to gohome and listen to "Broken Birdie" at about 75% the actual speed to seewhat I can discover. This 7" is easily the best piece of music I'vebought in months.
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Sofandi might share a label with Múm and Trabant, but their world is amuch, much different place. The second album from this Reykjavik-basedslow-paced rock group (whose name translates as 'Asleep') paints acold, harsh, and bleak picture of their world. If it's not in thepessimistic lyrics in which the singer admits repetitiously he's eithersick, drunk, or hopeless, (or a hopeless sick drunk) it's in themelodies, which all become rather gloomy following the rather brightopening instrumental introduction. There is an indescribably magicalcharm, like some of my other favorite hopeless sick drunks like MarkEitzel or Tom Waits, which makes the whole experience more appealingthan pathetic. Perhaps it's the tough spine of a tight musical group(with a notably lyrical bass guitarist) who pays close attention toeach other, without stomping on each others toes or staring at theirshoes and all strumming the same chords at once (yawn!). Songs oftenhave a variety of parts and movements, which keeps them interesting.The instrumental, "Please Don't Go" is surprisingly optimistic, almosta tribute to the Aerial M days of David Pajo, while the momentum of"Another You" builds to a rough and rugged pace without gettingcompletely out of hand. In addition, there are some amusing moments,(the jury's still out on whether it's intentional or not) like when thedrowsy guest female vocalist casually barks "shut up" during "SomethingAlways Comes Up," or as the band whistles their way out on the closer,"Don't Get Overexcited." The album climax is undoubtedly the emotional11+ minute epic, "Trillúkarlar," without lyrics but with a lightseasoning of subtle female singing. I could easily see myself gettingdrunk in a late night bar out in the midwest as this band plays, takingthat 'first step' with admitting that I have a problem but being amusedall the while.
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There must be something strange in Winnipeg's water. Or maybe not...maybe it's just a case of Fanny having a serious case ofVenetian-Snares-idol-worship. Whatever the case may be, Fanny sounds alot like Venetian Snares. If you're familiar with Venetian Snares'music, that sentence essentially pre-empts the rest of this review foryou. However, to Fanny's credit, he (for the most part) isn't asneedlessly "experimental" (for want of a better term) as the Snares manis. Regardless, I don't find myself enjoying this disc much. First andforemost, however, it's a style issue - this breakcore just isn't mykind of breakcore. Technically Fanny fares quite well, chopping upbreakbeats and samples and mixing it all together. But I just can't getinto it. Give me a DJ Scud record and I'll be swaying and doing my bestragga-rudeboy impression, but Fanny leaves me somewhat entertained, butnot marveled or enchanted. Despite some clever tracks ("Artists orAnarchists") this album left a strange taste in my mouth - likemarshmallows without sugar, or something. But if you're into the"Winnipeg" style of breakcore (I guess it's turning into its own genrenow) - give this disc a try at least.
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It's almost too good to be true. Dianogah, one of the finestinstrumental math rock groups around, enter the studio to recordanother full-length, this time with John McEntire turning the knobs.You can't ask for a better recipe than that. And the results? Yes,"Millions of Brazillians is the best Dianogah release yet, for a numberof reasons. First, McEntire, unlike Steve Albini on their last release,"Battle Champions," didn't just let them rest on their laurels andpress record in the control room. As the liner notes say: "Recorded,Mixed, and Embiggened" were McEntire's credits, and it shows. Second,the songs are more expansive, accomplished, and crisper sounding. Theband seems more aggressive and confident. The guest musicians, notoften seen on Dianogah releases (they used to have Team Dianogahreleases specifically to separate work with guest musicians from theirreleases), add flourishes here and there that are worthy additions tothe sound. 'The Smallest Chilean' is the darkest Dianogah yet, pushingFor Carnation territory. 'Flat Panda' is among their most melodic work,reminiscent of their contribution to the "Reach the Rock" soundtrack.In fact, despite the strange titles ('Goto Dengo Loses the War'?), thismusic is all very driven, almost sensual. And, lastly, for the firsttime, no vocals appear anywhere on this release. Not that the vocalswere ever THAT bad, but it's great to hear a whole Dianogah CD withoutany really awkward moments, which the vocals always seemed to be. Checkout the sound samples and I bet you'll agree: Dianogah can only getbetter.
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