Being thankful for an earful.
Brand new music by Marie Davidson, Niecy Blues (feat. Joy Guidry), CEL, Marisa Anderson and Luke Schneider, Stina Stjern, Carmen Villain, Murcof, A Lily, and Far Golden Pavilions, with music from the vaults by Tomaga, Ozzobia, Jan Jelinek.
Sushi photo by Lindsay.
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Lichens' Robert Lowe has always been a rather singular artist, but this latest effort is unusual even by his standards. Although it takes its inspiration from the British sci-fi series The Tomorrow People, its futuristic overtones are contained within a framework that seems far more indebted to raga, drone, and other sacred and ancient sources.  It is certainly an original vision, but the actual content is not quite strong enough to support Lowe's endless, mantric repetition.
Timon Irnok Manta consists of essentially just one piece, the nearly 20-minute "M'Bondo," but the B-side features a differing version reconfigured from the same building blocks.  The first version of "M'Bondo" initially has lot in common with the recent glut of space-y analog synth homages that are currently in vogue, as the piece is built upon a sustained, slowly flanging drone.  As it evolves, however, the aesthetic becomes a bit more strange and fractured, as an unusual rhythm coheres from a shifting, stuttering note and a host of pops and crackles.  At some point, it begins to sound like some sort of digitized percussion locks into the groove, but it feels bizarrely clipped and flat, like everything was chopped out except for the attack.
Melodically, the sonic foreground is gradually overtaken by dense, endlessly repeating synthesizer pattern.  Unfortunately, that turns out to be almost the full extent of the piece's evolution and it is complete around the 10-minute mark.  There are certainly some superficial developments after that point, like an occasional chord change, some swells of coloration, and a host of fluttering bleeps, but they do not take the piece anywhere particularly interesting: there are never any strong hooks, there is no impressive climax, and it all feels alienatingly inhuman and devoid of character...and then it all fades out.  Perhaps that might have been exactly what Lowe set out to achieve, but to me it just sounds like someone hit an imaginary preset on an expensive synthesizer labeled "futuristic raga played by robots."
Thankfully, the slightly shorter "dub" version is a bit more compelling right from the beginning, as it is built upon something that sounds like a ghostly human chant.  There are also repeating snatches of other voices, which make me wonder if some of the "synth parts" in the first version were actually Lowe's vocals processed into utter unrecognizability.  Regardless of whether "M'Bondo (Version)" is a pulling back of the veil or merely a more humanized take on the same themes, it is definitely the more affecting and eerie of the two pieces.  Lowe changes a few other elements significantly as well, offering a different synth pattern and emphasizing rhythm a bit more, but his recurring spectral moan is what changes the whole feel of the piece.
Curiously, I have seen this album hailed as one of the best of the year by one or two people and it makes me wonder what they could possibly be hearing that I am not.  Lowe certainly had a few unusual ideas and brought together some disparate stylistic threads, but they do not ultimately amount to something that warrants repeating for half an hour with only subtle variation. Timon Irnok Manta feels much more like an early sketch for a single promising song than an innovative, fully formed work.
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Artist: Schloss Tegal
Title: Oranur III "The Third And Final Report"
Catalogue No: CSR174CD
Catalogue No: 5060174954092
Format: CD in jewelcase
Genre: Dark Ambient
Shipping: 31st December
Pre-Order CD
Based on the work of Wilhelm Reich and his encounters with UFOs, this influential album has been remastered and reworked from the original recordings, with new bonus tracks and new remixed versions. Originally released in 1997 on CD by Tegal Records (Ltd x 1000) and LP by Artware Productions, Germany (Ltd x 1000), all of the original subject matter has been taken to a new level with this digital recording from the analogue sources. This is the third and final warning to the sleeping beings of the earth. This album influenced many other electronic artists and has been hailed as one of the first recordings to be labelled "dark ambient".
1. Oranur III "The Third And Final Report" | 2. Dark Eyes | 3. L5 – H.O.M.E.S. | 4. Coital Affirmation | 5. D.O.R. Manifestations | 6. Beyond The Wall Of Sleep | 7. Orop Desert EAS 1954-1955 | 8. Orena “Orop Terria” | 9. The Core Men | 10. We Just Got Tired "The Emotional Plague" | 11. You Can’t Wake Up
Artist: RMEDL / K11
Title: Chthonian Music
Catalogue No: CSR176CD
Catalogue No: 5060174954122
Format: CD in jewelcase
Genre: Ritual / Drone / Dark Ambient
Shipping: 31st December
Pre-Order CD
Reissue of an extremely limited 2010 release (x50 private copies). This multi-dimensional collaborative opera (audio installation and concept album) is a bridge between the conception of sound within the contemporary art scene, post-industrial culture and the avantgarde black metal musical scene. It focuses on creating a dialogic development between radical forms of concrete music, unorthodox sounds, conceptual arts and experimental recording practices of acoustic phenomena. The following artists participated on the release: Aderlating, Andrea Marutti, Burial Hex, Christina Kubisch, Deadwood, Francesco Brasini (Sevenguitars), Francisco Lopez, Gianluca Becuzzi, L'Acephale, Luciano Maggiore, Massimo Bartolini, Nordvargr, Philippe Petit, Seth Cluett, Utarm, Y.E.R.M.O..
Tracks: 1. Mvndvs | 2. Katàbasis Pt. I | 3. Katàbasis Pt. II | 4. Katàbasis Pt. III | 5. Katàbasis Pt. IV | 2. Katàbasis Pt. V | 7. Nuktèlia
I can't let 2011 go by without gushing about the newest music to come from this criminally underexposed Virginia-based group. This brief four-song EP is a walloping punch with an infectious lead title tune that is more of an honor to the wall-of-sound of Joe Meek's production for The Tornadoes claim to fame than it is for any '80s band. This has been accomplished without turning their back on their already established signature sound.
Ceremony aren't trying to re-invent the wheel, they're simply trying to be a rock band and make some catchy songs drenched in the heavy guitars that made us all fall in love with the sounds of Creation, originally released twenty plus years ago.The duo of John Fedowitz and Paul Baker are hardly novices, however, as they have been mastering their art starting off in Skywave back in the late '90s. We all know about the split and formation of A Place To Bury Strangers by Skywave alumni Ollie but John and Paul remained behind to work more on pop songcraft than total sonic anihilation. They're now expanded to a trio for the live experience (hence the photo on the cover) but I'm fairly certain the drum machine sounds on this EP are an indication that these songs might not feature the newest member.
The opening "Not Tonight" wastes no time, launching with a gun-like drums and screaming anthemic guitars. As aforementioned, I hear this song much like a tribute to the classic song "Telstar," with vocals and a chorus. My only complaint is that I wish I knew the exact words to sing along, as it is a fantastic melody.It is followed up with another pulsing tune of powerful guitars and guitar noise, "Leaves Me Cold," but its lack of immediacy makes for a good release from the charged opener. The band fall into a slick groove with the hypnotic "Dreams Slipped Away" and then pick up the fervor in the EP's closer, "Take You Down." In the time it takes to read this review, the EP has probably ended.
Okay, so I may be a little biased about this band because I released an awesome album of theirs last year which was nearly completely ignored by the masses (as well as an EP this year with reinventions by Justin Broadrick, Jessica Bailiff, and other A-list awesomeness), but that only means I think they're fantastic enough to support, and this EP (which I have no financial ties to) is another brilliant mark in their growing catalog.
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Although Stephen Mallinder has been probably the least prolific of his Cabaret Voltaire cohorts, his work outside of that classic band has never been lacking in quality. This album, originally released in 1999 with Shane Norton, demonstrates how his post-CV trajectory moved towards the dancier end of the spectrum and manages to mostly sound fresh, even within a genre that tries to reinvent itself every few months.
Like the latter CV albums, there is a distinctive dance-centric sound to Creach, perhaps even more than the work of his then bandmate Richard H. Kirk.While Kirk was never shy about throwing down dancefloor friendly beats, he was more apt to wrap them in paranoid political imagery and conspiracy-laden samples.
Songs such as "Systematic Intro" and "Where's James" convey a more timeless vibe, like the deep reverberating bass and layered pseudo-ethnic rhythms in a mix that is almost over the top in intensity."Where's James" mixes distorted beats, scratches and looped melodies make it the catchiest track on here, especially when listened in a non-dancing capacity.
While the drum and bass tinged "To Rock the Rhythm" and "Times Square" sound more of the era than some of the other songs, they're so well done, especially the transition from restrained aggression into laid-back funk of "To Rock the Rhythm".Similarly, the thumping bass and hip-hop rhythms of "Need a Cab" sound like they're from the late 1990s, but in a good way.
However, there are moments in which the duo lean into sounds that are surprisingly stale and stagnant.The housey synth stabs and vocal samples on "Systematic Hipster" seem almost cliché amongst the otherwise creative dubby bass and overdriven synth leads."Space Junk" may be the worst offender, from its stiff attempt at funk to perhaps the most glaring issue:Paula Abdul vocal samples.
This reissue appends one unreleased track, "Time," which fits right in with its strong bass line and subtle complexity.I never heard the album in its original incarnation, and I didn’t realize it was a bonus track, which shows how well it fits in with the other songs.In addition to the extra track, the artwork gets a needed overhaul, trashing the extremely late '90s "techno alien" graphic for a subtle Designers Republic reimaging of the band name and album title.
While Ku-Ling Brothers mined more conventional electronic sounds than Richard H. Kirk's various pseudonyms, they were definitely intended for the dance floor.Kirk's music could definitely be danced to, but I always imaged it as being more suited as backgrounds for writing manifestos or cleaning guns in case the New World Order occurs.Even though it's intended for the club, Creach has enough complexity and variation in sound to make it as stimulating for the mind as it is for the body.
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Originally issued on CD in 2009 and now reissued on double vinyl with additional tracks, Without Sinking is the second album from this Icelandic cellist (who has worked with the likes of mum and the Hafler Trio). Hildur’s subtly treated cello and zither compositions are only enriched by the vinyl format, adding an extra layer of warmth and emotion to her already powerful works.
Unlike a lot of other artists who work with a singular instrument as a sound source, Hildur uses only the most subtle effects and treatments of her cello, often using only layering to build the sound up to an intensity that never loses its sonic color, but sounds like far more than is actually there.The slowly building sounds of "Elevation" transition from a simple cello passage to a paring of bassy low-end drone and sad, howling high end bits that could be an entire orchestra of musicians.
At times, the rhythmic throb of traditional cello playing evolves into a heavy, film score like intensity, such as on "Erupting Light" and "Opaque."On these two pieces the rhythmic underpinning is matched with higher register passages, leading to a dynamic, rich composition.It is during these moments that Without Sinking is most song-like.
During other times, the pieces are less about compositional structure and more about indulgence in sound."Circular," for example, has a frozen, monolithic quality to the cello that is offset by twinkling zither notes, but for the most part resembles the breathing of a massive, prehistoric creature.The sparse, outstretched notes of "Whiten" are over a bed of arid ambience that is more open, but also sad in comparison to most of the other pieces."Unveiled" moves at a snail’s pace, but using a greater variety of sounds other than just cello, which takes a backseat to bass and electronic instrumentation.
This newer double LP edition includes three additional tracks that were not included on the 2009 CD issue."Baer" feels like the natural follow-up to "Unveiled," but with an added emphasis on cello above the otherwise gauzy tonal clouds."Iridescence" also takes on a similarly slow pace, but with a greater emphasis on bassy tones and gentle ambience.The most different is "Heyr Himnasmidur," which drops the cello to make way for piano, bass, and Gudnadottir's delicate, beautiful voice.While it feels a bit odd in context with the rest of the album, it works in its own unique way.
The careful use of effects and digital processing keep a certain natural beauty to Hildur’s playing, but put just enough of an edge on it to set it apart from other cellists.The additional songs are not just filler, but help to further flesh out an already well developed album.
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When Wire imploded in 1980, Bruce Gilbert and Graham Lewis quickly began the Dome project, recording their first three albums within a 12-month span, then a fourth in 1983. Collating the four classic Dome albums from the early 1980s with the Yclept compilation presented on vinyl, these classic albums are presented in a luxurious new set which is undeniably essential listening.
Wire's initial incarnation struck a delicate balance between Colin Newman's pop sensibilities with Lewis and Gilbert's avant garde tendencies. This became apparent when the initial solo albums were released, with Newman's A-Z, being a fractured, but brilliant post-punk work heavily steeped in pop, while Dome's first work was a world of bizarre industrial interpretations and pure studio experiments.
That was one of the defining factors of the first three Dome albums:they were all heavily focused on experimentation and treating the studio itself as an instrument.In many cases this would have probably ended up a scatter-shot collection of random sounds and self-indulgent wankery, but this isn’t anything like that.
For example:"Rolling Upon My Day" from Dome 1 begins as a rapid fire synth experiment, but soon evolves into Lewis singing one of his most beautiful songs over sparse guitar and a lo-fi drum loop culled from one of Robert Gotobed's practice tapes. What could have been aimless meandering from less capable artists is instead a brilliantly memorable piece of gorgeous music.
The same goes for "Cruel When Complete", which at its core is simply a processed recording of Angela Conway (A.C. Marias) vocals with subtle accompaniment.Plus, closer "Madmen" has always been one of the most entertaining endings for an album, with Bruce Gilbert barking "If anybody touches these fucking bags, I'll cut their fucking head off with a fucking ax.I’ll fucking piss on them"
Dome 2 simply feels like the second half of one work, though perhaps one with slightly more polish.The two part "The Red Tent" begins initially with beautiful, shimmering ambient synths that are pulled together for a taut, intensely driven industrial throb for its second half.Both "Ritual View" and "Long Lost Life" lean towards conventionality, with the former actually beginning life in a much different form with Wire.
On Dome 3, much of the conventional elements are stripped away, resulting in an oddly rhythmic suite of compositions with onomatopoeic titles, such as "An-An-An-D-D-D"'s vocalisms mimicking the title, and bassy synth pulse of "Na-Drm."Perhaps the most bizarre is the back to back "Ba-Dr" and "D-D-Bo," which pair the Dome experimentalism with erratic disco beats.
Dome 4, also known as Will You Speak This Word, is a different matter entirely. Half of the album consists of the side-long piece of "To Speak," including Vince Clarke on keyboards.Rather than the terse, rhythmic pieces of Dome 3, it is a lush, complex composition that feels more classically informed, even with the abstract rhythmic oubursts at the end.The fractured rhythms of "This" and noisier loops of "Seven Year" harkens more back to the earlier works.
Dome 5, previously released on CD as Yclept, consists of material recorded from the latter 1980s up to its release in 1998.As a whole it is a bigger, louder, and more aggressive work.While the two versions of "Because We Must" bear the marks of 1989's synth and drum machine technology, it has just the right level of oddness, and sounds like an ugly outtake from Lewis' He Said project.The tracks recorded for Yclept, like "Virtual Sweden" and "Vertical Seeding" are even more disjointed and difficult, akin to the work both artists were doing on their own.
Regardless of the format these albums are released in, these Dome albums are among my favorites of the many Gilbert and Lewis related projects, of which there are quite a few.They all strike the perfect balance between challenging experimentation and purely pleasurable listening.With the exception of a few moments on Dome 5/Yclept, they could easily be released today and I would think they're just as brilliant as I do now.The luxurious presentation from Editions Mego, reproducing the original artwork with additional material, only adds to majesty of these albums.
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Coolies started out in the late 1990s, a trio of school friends from South Auckland, NZ, making a homemade-punk noise. After a first spurt of activity they lost a couple of drummers, released hardly any music, and seemed to have gone silent. This brief new album captures their gleeful, raw, energy on a reel-to-reel recorder.
At this point, Coolies might be seen as an antipodean "garage" equivalent of No Age; albeit less adept at self-promotion and with a little of the spirit of Crass and the Slits mixed in. Master documents their past four years in 27 minutes; going for the throat on each song and displaying little affection for polish on studio pieces and the two live tracks ("Shift" and "Pull the Trigger"). Instead, the onus is on scuzzy spontaneity as guitar feedback, propulsive yells, and uncluttered drumming and bass playing adhere to a still-charming DIY aesthetic. Some songs, such as "Holiday" and "Let’s Pretend" are more obviously melodic and airy than other pieces (for example "Ghost Baby" and "Searching") which have a manic, suffocating feeling.
In 2005, original members Tina and Sjionel were joined by new drummer Stefan. The trio still has an abrasive quality and tension derived from crunching guitar, howling vocals and thudding percussion. It's a sound which to some extent echoes the "boredom" ethos of late-1970s UK punk and more recent US-based "lo-fi" garage groups. Timing is everything, and maybe this is now the Coolies' time.
There is something to be said about listening to a good instrumental record on a cold wintry day. The right one should be picked of course, whose notes and timbres are delicate as powdery snow. The music should be austere, but with warm harmonics cutting through the cold like glimmers of sunshine. The eight pieces on this album are just the thing, and have a nice narrative arc that has me thinking of the similarities between novels and albums, how moving both forms can be, and how a good album, even without words, always tells a story. Like curling up with a good book, it’s nice to be inside on a Sunday afternoon comforted by the joys of a turntable and a warm cup of coffee.
The majesty of the opening "Slow Implosion" makes for a bit of a top heavy listen, as this is surely one of the gems. Recorded over a few days it features an array of his friends coming over to play all in the same key. The brilliance of it comes from Nathan Stein’s French Horn, an instrument that always lends a regal character. My only disappointment is that the track was cut in half from its original 24 minutes. I would be perfectly happy listening to that as one whole side of an album. If nothing else a URL for the download of the entire track could have been given, but Baird seems to think it had gone on too long. Oh well.
The song "Softly" features cooing vocals layered with warm distortion and is a nice segue to the longer and more fulfilling "Cloud Breath" which utilizes the rare analog soundimension echo box. In this piece one twelve string guitar is tuned to an open A chord and plugged into an amp while another, playing a very loud A resonates the other untouched guitar. Not knowing this detail wouldn’t in anyway detract from the song, which is beautiful in and of itself without the explanation, but as a music geek it is sometimes nice to read notes on how a song was composed.
After the delayed piano of "Surfing" the second side takes off into more melodious realms with Baird’s homage to Philip Glass and his four minute take on "Koyaanisqatsi," his voice whispering the word at intervals, just behind the bass keyboards and guitar. The title track features a very brittle piano, reminiscent of crackling icicles in its opening passage before settling into more somber moments, while still plucking out bright sonorities as an accent.
The last song opens with what reminds me of a car motor sitting at idle, and the whine of strange birds off in the distance. Elegant strumming fades in, mingling with a rustier metallic reverb, as if the strings have been bowed, at last fading into the grumble of old machines. While this solo release from the man behind Sunset, indie-pop favorites from Austin, Texas may not be earth shattering it is a delight, and shows off a different side to Bill Baird’s songwriting.
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Golem is widely regarded to be a lost psychedelic masterpiece among the sorts of people who are interested in such things, numbering David Tibet, Stephen Stapleton, and Julian Cope among its more outspoken champions.  In fact, Current 93 even covered "May Rain" on Thunder Perfect Mind.  Now, 36 years after it initially appeared, Golem has finally been reissued for the first time in its original form (though it previously surfaced as part of Durtro's Ultrasonic Seraphim retrospective in 1996). I don't think I'd quite call it a masterpiece myself, but it is definitely one of the more memorably bizarre albums to emerge from the krautrock milieu and that is certainly no small feat.
Rotorelief/Delta-Acustic
Rotorelief's enthusiasm for this reissue borders on the unsettling, as they are celebrating its release with related releases by both Current 93 and Nurse With Wound, as well as promising a series of five new Sand albums.  I am having a difficult time wrapping my mind around that last part, as Golem was the band’s first and only record: they broke up soon after it was released and quickly moved onto other projects.  Also of note, the band themselves saw Golem as a bit of disappointment. Adding further to my incredulity is the fact that Sand’s total recorded output to date is exactly six songs, some of which were stragglers from the trio's previous band Part of Time.  However, the Rotorelief website also describes the Current 93 When the May Rain Comes single as an "album," so I guess I have absolutely no idea what to expect.
Curiously, both the cause of Sand's dissatisfaction with Golem and one of the primary reasons for its semi-legendary status share an identical root: producer Klaus Schulze. At the time, Schulze and engineer Manfred Schunke were developing a proto-surround sound recording technique called Artificial Head Stereo Sound and this was one of the first albums to make use of the new technology (and the only one that is still remembered today).  On the downside, the technique apparently compromised the music's dynamics, much to Sand's lasting chagrin.  However, the upside is that Golem sounds crazily vibrant and hallucinatory on headphones and whatever dynamic disasters befell the album are probably unnoticeable to anyone who was not in the band.  I have to side with Klaus on this one.
While the production is definitely a key element to the album's appeal, Sand were also pretty weird in their own right.  For one thing, only two of the three band members (the Papenburg brothers) were "serious" musicians, as the band became Sand after Part of Time's organist and drummer quit.  As such, these songs generally have a very skeletal and oft-dirgelike structure, often just a bass and a synthesizer, or a bass and a guitar.  Despite his lack of instrumental prowess, however, vocalist Johann Vester was the band's resident visionary, contributing both tripped-out atmospheric synth burbling and whooshing as well as some very impressively weird and evocative lyrics (a feat made more impressive by the fact that he was a German singing in English).
It is easy to hear why this appealed to David Tibet so much when he found it in Stephen Stapleton's record collection that fateful day, as Vester seems something like a mad prophet ranting poetically though a gurgling, panning, swooping, and flanging haze.  In fact, it even seems like some moments on this album may have had a direct influence on what Current 93 eventually became, like the moment in "Helicopter" where Johannes portentously sings "And the air is dark and strange and cold…it's moving there," which triggered a flicker of "All the Stars Are Dead Now" in my mind.  At the very least, Golem certainly falls awkwardly into the pantheon of apocalyptic folk that predated Current 93's eventual perfection of the form.
The biggest downside to Golem for me is that Johannes Vester is a rather unique vocalist, to put it politely.  I think he sounds a lot like an agitated leprechaun at times during "Helicopter," but Julian Cope has more insightfully described his unique aesthetic as "post-apocalyptic space-cockney."  My other problem is the song "On the Corner," which clumsily wrecks the lysergic gnomes-and-ghosts-and-dark-forests vibe of the album with some utterly baffling hippified blues rock and over-exuberant conga playing from Schulze.  Even the lyrics are mundane—I don’t get it at all. Also, I think the Current 93 version of May Rain hopelessly eclipses the original, but I suppose that is an inherent hazard in letting David Tibet cover one of your songs. However, none of those grievances change the fact that this was (and is) a deeply aberrant and unique record:  Golem is the sound of cutting edge analog mindfuckery circa 1974 and no one else has quite made anything like it.  I can't call the experiment a complete success by any means, but "batshit crazy, but flawed" still trumps most other music in my book.
(The Rotorelief reissue has slightly different (Babs Santini!) cover art than that pictured, but not much different.  It merely looks less grainy.)
 
Hopelessly smitten by Buda Musique's long-defunct series of albums devoted to Angola, Analog Africa's Samy Ben Redjeb decided to try to pick up where his predecessors left off.  Characteristically, he quickly discovered that such an endeavor was much more convoluted and challenging than he had ever imagined, but ultimately made it through the gauntlet of denied visas, obligatory bribes, prohibitively expensive hotels, and ill-timed food poisoning to assemble what is possibly his finest compilation to date.
There is something about adversity tends to result in great music, and conditions don't get much adverse than those in Angola during the time of these recordings.  For one thing, the country was the battleground for the Colonial War from 1961 to 1975, as Angolan revolutionaries fought to expel their Portuguese rulers. Then, that finally accomplished, the country immediately plunged into a 27-year long civil war and a whole lot of poverty and social unrest.  Even today, Angola has the world's second lowest life expectancy.  Of course, the arguable silver lining to all that death and misery is that nobody had the time or patience for frivolity, self-indulgence, over-orchestration, over-production, or pretension in their music: these guys were lucky to just be cutting records and tried like hell to make them count.  In fact, hardly anyone even seems to have had access to a horn section: just a guitar, a bass, whatever percussion they could get together, and maybe an occasional organ.  It is unfortunate that these bands were so stripped down out out of sheer necessity, but it is an aesthetic that suits my discerning ears quite well.
Much like many of the other exciting and highly localized music explosions that have been anthologized recently, the prime period for music in Angola coincided with a collision of African and Latin influences.  It also coincided with a strong desire to create a distinct Angolan sound to assert their cultural independence from Portugal.  For the most part, the Latin influence makes itself felt mostly through driving, vibrant percussion and simple, insistent bass lines.  The African elements, on the other hand, manifest themselves most strongly in the clean, intricate guitar lines.  The blending of cultures gets a bit blurrier than just that though, as touches of American surf music and other esoteric surprises occasionally pop-up as well.  Also, there is a definite feel of urgency and melancholy in a lot of these songs, which serves to tone down the Latin percussion to a suitably non-manic pace.
The definite stand-out piece on the album is Quim Manuel's "Eme Lelu," one of the rare times horns make an appearance.  The cool brass parts are just gravy though, as the song's real charm lies in its mesmerizing, sinuous rhythm.  I also loved the tensely repetitive "Mecongo Mi Chiquita," by Ferraro Do Nascimento. There's quite a bit of other strong material here too– nothing that quite floored me, but the hit-to-miss ratio is quite a bit better than it has been on the last few Analog Africa comps.  I think the probable cause is that a lot of these musicians have a solid understanding of understatement and nuance, which is greatly appreciated, as the more hyperactive strains of Latin-African hybrids tend to grate on me.  As do most jubilantly happy, major key songs, which is why I was very surprised to find that the man behind the jaunty "Uma Amiga" (David Zé) was murdered in a wave of repression that followed a failed coup (along with several other influential musicians).  In fact, most of his music is impossible to find even now because people were so frightened to be caught with it during that dark period.  Sometimes, even seemingly innocuous music holds morbid surprises, I guess.
Obviously, the music is the main draw here, but I have definitely fallen completely in love with Analog Africa's packaging: each new album is like the next chapter in the unfolding autobiography of a passionate and compelling eccentric.  There are lots of people out there scavenging the world for great lost music and many of them do an excellent job providing colorful or informative context and liner notes, but only Redjeb makes a point of also explaining exactly why he is excited about each project, recounting the absurd lengths he went to to make it happen, and including as many interviews with the people involved as possible.  I get the feeling that each new release is the most important thing in the world to Redjeb, not just "the next album." For Angola Soundtracks, he even postponed going to the hospital while seriously ill just because people kept stopping by to sell him records; I'm sure someday I will probably read about him braving an alligator attack or navigating a minefield or something just to interview some guy that played maracas on a 45 he likes.  Samy is the music nerd's music nerd– it is impossible to remain unmoved by his enthusiasm.
 
