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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This awkwardly named ensemble is the collaboration between three ofBowindo's central players and co-founders, Stefano Pilia, ClaudioRocchetti, and Valerio Tricoli. The latter's Did They Did I?is one of the young label's best releases so far, and his comrades areno strangers within the budding Italian scene, Pilia with a CDR ofbeautiful droning guitar pieces on the Last Visible Dog label andRocchetti with at least one lauded recording as Kitano. And while itmight not be appropriate to call this disc the work of a "supergroup,"as the sixth and latest Bowindo release it feels, at least, like thelabel's first truly essential product, the trio matching each other'stalents to create a seven-part cycle of radiant acoustic imagery. 3/4HadBeenEliminated's45 minutes unfurl in a graceful, gripping sweep that combines theItalians' tendencies towards lyrical improvisation and colorfulelectroacoustics, with a grounding in the kind of baroque assemblagetechniques championed by people like Dean Roberts and Jim O'Rourke. Itis a roomy collage of found sounds, entranced piano and strings,featherweight percussion, and the small-yet-tactile electronicmanipulations most Bowindos manage with the such grace. Whole tracksare swallowed within drones of unquenchable warmth, carryovers fromPilia's Healing Memories record but without as grand apresentation, suggesting rather the distant, saturated golds of a Klimtpainting. As with previous Bowindo releases, field recordings getincorporated in such a way that they guide or introduce certainportions of the piece rather than float along as surface filler, asubtle but effective way of carving an environment from the workitself. The result is the same kind of unreal ambience labelmateGuiseppe Ielasi regularly produces, an unpredictable landscape thatreveals, only in afterthought (or aftershock), the rigorous method ofits creation. At points during the disc a beautiful chamber ensembleemerges, picking apart minimal, plaintive lines, as if at the cue of aparticular broken glass or cheap electronic whine. The effect of thisinvented troupe of players, slinking ghostly between so many goldenguitar drones, sheets of harmonium haze, and assorted earthenresonance, only to appear with the arbitrary quickness of a twigsnapping underfoot, is simply breathtaking, many listens over."Bedrock" travels from a tender, big-band shuffle sounding almost likethe Bad Seeds at their most sublime, to a lengthy area of abrasiveshatter and pop, garage ambience that still manages to feel like justanother station along the disc's narrative. When the associativestrains of guitar and percussive foundations disappear, more discretepatterning of electrical hums, engine turnovers, and minor tapetreatments become attempts at maintaining the momentum and sonicdensity of a particular moment, a method aimed at continuity ratherthan clash, and one that helps to create an incredibly fluidsound-world, full of juxtapositions, but ones which provide anindecisive magical middle passage. It's rare that works this complexalso succeed in feeling as direct, regardless of particular directiveschanging with each listen, a compliment that can be paid to most of theBowindo/Fringes releases I've heard. Discovering this label has been ajoy, and both of its 2004 releases will rank among my favorites for theyear. 
This is the absolutely flooring debut album of bassist/guitarist AdemIlhan's own four-piece band, and of a truly unique and powerful voiceall his own. Not that he's thought of as the quiet one or anything, butlive and on record with Fridge, Adem rarely ever lets this other beinginside of him be heard. His is a mannered but driven style of folkrock, prone to lush and full passages with varied instrumentation. Itis the vocals that make this album's beauty, however, with clear andimpassioned melodies from Adem and near perfect harmonies that embodythe words and themes being conveyed. From the first track, where theline "Let this be a moment that you won't forget" is stated severaltimes, I was hooked, with lyrics that pull everything around towardsthem and rhythms that crawl, sway, or jangle their way through life. Avariety of subjects are covered in what can only be catharsis, from theargument that remains long after the voices are quiet to the end of arelationship or those tender moments that will always remain. The heartreaches out to these characters, as they continue to stumble andmisdirect their ways around. "You tried to help yourself, but you gotit wrong" is followed by the extended "Everybody needs some helpsometimes" on "These Are Your Friends," the album's first single, andit could easily become the new "Lean On Me" of independent rock, as thesong builds and builds to a full-voiced near stomp at the end. Thereare little touches that show a clear grasp of theatrics withoutmelodrama or pretense, like the organ at the beginning of "EverythingYou Need," which leads in and disappears but has a lasting impression.The quirk of not often heard instruments, the uplifting as well as thecrushed, and the lyrics of a true poet make this a record I will notsoon forget. It also serves as a reminder to me of what anextraordinary group of talents Fridge is, and it makes me long for anew release from them soon. - 
The most recent evidence of the enduring peculiarity of the humancondition comes in the form of this collection of on-air sermons by theself-proclaimed "Reverend" Lester Knox of Tifton, Georgia. Lester Knoxis a radio personality of questionable religious pedigree, but withenough hootin' n' hollerin' holy-ghost ferocity to more than compensatefor his lack of Biblical acumen. Knox was something of an eccentric whofelt his message was important enough to buy airtime, out of pocket,every week for more than 18 years to broadcast his demented God-typemessage to Southern Georgia, despite his rather noticeable speechimpediment. Recorded straight off the airwaves between the years of1982 and 1992 by cult rocker Tom Smith (of To Live and Shave in LA), Put Your Face in Gwodoffers 71 minutes of the more unhinged moments of Knox's broadcasts.The recording quality varies from endearingly low-fi to annoyinglyshitty, but Lester Knox still comes through loud and clear, deliveringhis hellfire-and-brimstone message of sweaty-toothed allegiance to thespirit in the sky. Knox is frequently joined in the studio by arevolving cast of blithering hayseeds, powhitetrash and hill people,many of whom are invited to warble a gospel number or two, and theirperformances give new meaning to the term neo-primitive. Astutelisteners of The Incredible String Band will recognize "The World IsNot My Home" as the coda to "Ducks on a Pond." Many of these gospeltunes are in the classic repertoire of devotional folk hymns, asdocumented in Harry Smith's Anthology of Folk Music, but you'renever heard them like this. Unorthodox guitar tunings and hilariouslyoff-key vocals contribute to the real-people/outsider feel of thismaterial. But Knox himself is the main attraction, whooping wildly andfeverishly whipping up religious fervor: "Amen, I FEEL the power ofGOD! Somebody is in this radio station besides us! Do you HEAR me outthere in radioland?" A chorus of measured amens from the in-studioflock can be heard throughout the disc. Despite this apparent support,at times, Knox seems to be suffering from severe bipolar mood swings;howling and speaking in tongues one minute, quietly crying andbemoaning his own frustrated existence the next. One particularlyfragile segment has Knox desperately yelling vain threats of divineretribution to whatever imp is making the lights go on and off in thestudio during his broadcast: "Somebody in here is a-messin' with thislight, goin' off and on...You mess with a man of God, and God'll knockyou down! Do you hear me, women and men?" Put Your Face in Gwodis everything I could possibly want from an outsider document;simultaneously funny and sad, bizarre and charming, completely unhingedyet utterly human. 
Signed to Mogwai's Rock Action Records overseas, this unique projectfrom Chris Mack finally sees the shelves of the US, where listeners maynot be guite prepared for this brand of Scottish nigh-bluegrass.Nevertheless, Mack has crafted an easy to listen to thirteen tracks,about half instrumental, that approach a burgeoning awakening, and anew style along with it. Itwould be absolutely gorgeous if more Scottish bands latched on to thisstyle and went for it, starting a new craze. So far Scotland has onlyhad very limited genres to offer to the rest of the world: bagpipes,bland pop music, blistering instrumental rock, or the twee-ness ofBelle and Sebastian. There have been others, but these are the onlyones I can think of that actually went anywhere. Personally, I thinkindie Scottish twang could take off rather quickly with James OrrComplex as a leader. Here is their platform: Chris Mack is an amazingguitar player, like Django Reinhardt good, and people would gather frommiles around just to see his pickin' and grinnin' (reports of himactually grinnin' could not be confirmed at press time — it is Scotlandafter all). Second, the songs are fairly minimalist in their approach,and extremely catchy. "Mouthpiece" is a brilliant song, about drinkingand needing someone else to talk for you, and it makes anyone want totap their toes. Lastly, the songs contain lyrics that would go downwith any bluegrass or country fan: the pursuits of the downtrodden.There is some positivity, but for the most part the songs outline ageneral force out to get the little man, with titles like "HappyAdversary" and "Fade Grey to Fade Blue." In the event that it doesn'ttake off, no matter. Just leave it to the James Orr Complex and let itride, because these guys have got it all. -
It's rather hard to believe that a Tony-winning actor can record an album of indie rock this affecting and heartfelt, but that's exactly what Michael Cerveris manages. A featured actor in several successful musicals, including Hedwig and the Angry Inch and Assassins, for which he got the Tony, Cerveris is probably more known for that vocation, and less known as the lead singer of the band Retriever. Along the way in his career, he has also performed with Pete Townshend and Bob Mould on albums and tours. All of these experiences inform his debut solo album, a global-jaunt recording project with all the musician friends he's made over the years. And where his vocal stylings onstage are more presentational, on these songs he sings from the heart more than from the lungs and diaphragm.Low Heat
It's almost typical troubadour stylings at first: let the music and the imagery do the talking, but understate the vocals. Surprising, given Cerveris' other job, and the soaring notes he presents there. Then, "SPCA" hits, and everything changes. There's bombast, there's agression, and there's projection of a pure emotional state. The song is a moment that defines the record, even though there's nothing else like it to be found. While some might call this a "break-up" record, and "SPCA" certainly supports it — as do other songs — the vinettes here have a more general view on love, as well as feelings on other subjects. Sometimes it's outside looking in, sometimes it's after the fact looking back, sometimes it's before the first kiss; and sometimes the imagery is too heavy-handed, too saccharine to handle. When Cerveris hits on all levels, though, it might be necessary to stand back. One part that confuses me: there are actually twelve tracks on the CD, and they are all listed in the liner notes, though the back of the CD only lists ten. These are not "hidden tracks" in the typical sense, then, and the music in both don't actually seem to fit with the rest of the record, though "Eleven" is one of the best tracks on it. Why Cerveris wanted to keep these somewhat a mystery is part of the puzzle, I guess, and the next piece could be the one that brings it all into focus.
On this second album from the former D Generation frontman he provesthat his debut was not a fluke, and even betters it wherever possible.Maybe it's the fact that he produced it himself, or maybe because hedistanced himself from Ryan Adams on this release more, but Malin'ssongs have more power, more flavor, and definitely more presence thanbefore. This may also be attributed to the stellar guests thatcontribute, from Eli Janney of Girls Against Boys to formerReplacements and Guns N' Roses bassist Tommy Stinson. Where his lastrecord concentrated on self-destruction, this record seems to centermore on self-healing through sympathy. Malin reaches out to himself andto others on this record with equal strength, much in a way ofidentification, but also as a cry for help so that he doesn't go downalone. Anchoring it all is a sometimes plaintive, sometimes gale windforce of country-fed rock, with Malin's unique voice front and center.He's always been adept at telling stories, and this record is nodifferent, with tales of beauties and delinquents alike, successful ornot. There are concerns about the way our country is going intermingledwith the story of the girl who left a mark, and there's never a jarringmoment. Malin does rely a bit too much on couplets in his songs, and itdoes annoy after a while, but the quick rhymes are all part of hisappeal. Where Springsteen was all about songs for and chronicling theworking man, Malin's are for and about the freaks and castaways, thelate night lounge lizards and the men who dress up in their mother'sclothes. The beautiful thing is that there is no judgment in his words:he simply presents things as they are, and with a quasi-endearmentwhich embraces while it informs. Already more successful solo than heever was in a band, Malin is proving to be one of the new rock and rollpoets, whether he likes it or not. The Heat is on, all the time, and the streets are ripe with more to tell. -
Neubauten's first album of the 1990s, is one of my favorite albums of the decade and Mute's expanded reissue generously comes with a bonus disc of nearly all the tracks released on the Interim and Malediction singles. It's an important point in their career, as, for the first time, the group seriously explored their more quiet, pretty, and introspective side. Even the album cover and lavish booklets suggest that Neubauten's intentions were to move the public perception away from being a noise/rock/ post-industrial outfit to more of an art band.
The intentions could also have been to pursue the art of songcraft as intensely as their craft of building instruments themselves. While it opens with the powerful "Die Interimsliebenden" and closes with the cacophonous 15 minute "Headcleaner," nearly everything contained between is a demonstration of a group using an amazing amount of restraint unwitnessed before. "Blume" is a gorgeous lullaby, rich with powerful imagery and the gentleness of a feather. On the original Mute release it's in English with vocals by Anita Lane, but on this reissue, the French version appears with vocals by Diana Orloff. Despite the swap, the mood isn't different, but it is a weird thing to hear after being used to the other version being there for so long. Blixa's voice is tame here and elsewhere on the creeping buzzing "12304 (te Nacht)," and moderately paced "Sie," and quietly whispered on the gorgeous orchestral "W?te." After years of mastering the amplification and recording of springs, taps, and other quiet noises, it seems appropriate to utilize some of these techniques on an almost inaudibly quiet voice. While it ushered in new movements to Neubauten's music, the vigor wasn't completely left behind, as the album ends on the four movement mini symphony of noise, "Headcleaner," opening like a horror movie, evil and foreboding, and eventually giving in to the relentless bashing and pounding of metallic and electronic percussion under the now signature screeches from Blixa. The bonus disc opens with a shortened English version of "Die Interimsliebenden," condensed with more harmonic guitars and synth layers, perhaps created with the goals of a hit single in mind, but it simply doesn't feel right in English, and with the additional instruments, the gripping pulse is somewhat reduced. "Salamandrina," which has become a popular live track, is a wonderful singalong, and has always confused me why it didn't appear on the album in the first place. "3 Thoughts" is an English reconstruction of "Sie," and the English and Japanese versions of "Blume" appear, while the disc ends with the fast-paced (but somewhat forgettable) upbeat singalong "Ubique Media Daemon." The important meat remains the first disc and listening now, 11 years after its original release, it has stood every test of time, sounding completely undated and equally as challenging as it was on its release.
The two latest Mute releases from the vaults of Einstüzende Neubauten both conveniently fill spaces before and after the series of self-issued remasters as well as they each represent beginnings. Kalte Sterne collects some of the first Neubauten recordings from 1980 through 1992, in Berlin first as a duo of Blixa Bargeld and N.U. Unruh through 1982 where the long running steady quintet was established with F.M. Einheit, Mark Chung, and Alexander Hacke.
It's because of this rapid growth spurt that the music is that of a band trying to find their sound. From the beginning, however, it's clear that compromise isn't something the band wanted to do: they weren't going to make music within rigid pop structures nor were they going to make their songs more commercially accessible outside of Germany by singing in English. For the first few tracks from 1980, Neubauten actually sounded like a punk group completely disillusioned with the empty promises of punk: traditional rock instruments like drums, guitar and bass were used to make the noises, but these weren't songs written with the pop template as most 1970s punk actually did. Rhythms pound as Blixa shouts over wailing guitar effects and a pulsing bass on "Fuer den Untergang" and its B-side, "Tan-Ze-Dub," unfortunately mastered from a record. Electronic drills and other unconventional toys and electronics trickle into the mix with each track but at the time—this early in EN's developmental stage—sound effects are still being used more for decoration than composition. This is, of course, until FM Einheit joins in 1981. In 1981, with the addition of Hacke on guitar, it's almost as if the band became both more of a rock band AND were able to use their signature metal, drills, and everything else and the kitchen sink as an integral piece of the rhythm backbone. The aggression drives much of the music until the arguable climax of this disc, the epic 9+ minute track with Lydia Lunch, "Thirsty Animal," with a patiently drawn out rhythmless opening of their groundbreaking homebuilt pipe machine. Everything drops out after more than two minutes in for a restrained beat backing Lydia's forceful vocals, mixed low enough to force any listener paying attention to raise the levels, pushing that hypnotic drum pattern to unavoidable levels. Gritty guitars are matched with screeching sound effects, backwards noises, and a brief vocal appearance from Blixa. Unfortunately "Thirsty Animal" and its B-side "Durstiges Tier" are mastered from records but it doesn't make the music any less intense. While this compilation is undoubtedly essential to all EN fans, I would honestly recommend newbies to get some of the more monumental albums first, because I can guarantee Kalte Sterne will eventually make it into the collection.
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Kranky
I always like knowing that Mark Nelson is involved in a new album. Whether he's involved in Labradford, in a collaboration with another musician, or is writing music as Pan?American, Nelson's compositions always come as welcome, quiet, and warm embraces. Quiet City, his fourth Pan?American album, is a much different recording than 2003's The River Made No Sound
, but it maintains the calm and pacifying sound that has permeated all of Nelson's projects from the beginning. Alongside rainy pulses and misty keyboard flourishes are the seductive sounds of an upright bass, guitar, trumpet, and flugelhorn. Their presence in Nelson's writing only adds to the spaciousness of the songs; they never make the electronic peace too busy nor do they take away from rattle and wash of the near sub-conscious percussion. The entire record moves together like a creeping cloud, but there are standouts that can't go without mention. The 9-minute engagement that is "Wing" plays like a waterfall easing in slow motion towards an unending abyss. Its harmonious ring of low and subtle keyboards, tribal dub-rhythms, and erratic scratches and pops was intoxicating enough to keep me pressing the back button a few times before I was willing to move to the song. The folk-like "Inside Elevation" bares a fragile guitar that slow-steps in and out of a near-accordian complement and blends into the suprising and pleasing "Skylight." The opening is remiscient of deserts and folk-music to me, but the heart of the song is band-centered and has a certain nobility to its organization and melody. When I say band-centered I mean that there is a definite drummer, guitar, voice, and bass arrangement, but it is accompanied by what sounds like a full brass orchestra and Nelson's consistently supple electronics. Song after song is a relaxing and simple relief from the any and everything that is busy. While I expected this much from Nelson, what caught me off guard was how well-written every one of these songs are. The songs on here aren't just epic forays into estranged sound, they're pieces of melodic silk that breathe and twitch with a human likeness. A casual listen to a song like "Het Volk" will reveal exactly what I'm talking about. The poppy and child-like keyboard sounds grace along like a classical composition while the the flugelhorn plays like some slow jazz on a lamp-lit street corner. The combination is irresistable. This is the way that the electronic and acoustic combination should be done. After a while I wasn't even conscious of the fact that there were different elements being used. The product of their masterful fusing is greater than the parts being fused.
Matt Waldron's music as Irr. App. (Ext.) covers a spectrum from hallucinatory and intricate strings of sound that are broadcast from the universe of the wacky to found-sound recordings that share spaces with crunching glass, odd-ball vocal samples, and gorgeous guitar. Ozeanische Gef?le, however, comes as a complete surprise. Rooted in the experiments, philosophy, and beliefs of Wilhelm Reich, the term "ozeanische gef?le" translates, roughly, as "oceanic feelings." This term is wonderfully appropriate for the music Waldron has assembled on this recording. The self-titled and 42 minute opener is a consistently hypnotizing blend of bells, wooden drums (I think?), organs, submerged choirs, obscured hums, brushes, crickets, and solar flares. These references and images may seem fanciful, but one listen to the record will reveal that Waldron has somehow recorded life and placed it on a compact disc. Waldron's most exciting and captivating technique is his blending of completely opposite sounds into a whole. No matter how disparate Waldron's sound sources may be (horses trotting on brick roads, a poorly tuned ukulele, wooden boards crashing, rain drops and thunder, there are a ton of sounds I'm sure I'm missing), they sound entirely perfect together. The result is a strangely fascinating organism of living tissue, meterological events, and cosmic birth and death. The music isn't just fascinating though, it isn't just some exercise in academic sound collage. The sounds course and wind into eachother and make a heavenly soft bed out of the air. The combination of bells, buzzes, sonic burps, and resounding echoes is radiant and graceful and never fails to soothe or entertain. The second track, "The Demiurge's Presumption," carries over from the sonic dust of the first 40+ minutes and blows it up to the tune of expanding straws, static electricty, broken springs, and divine presence. There is a constant ring through the track that attempts to obscure the work of a stream of sounds that pulses steadily beneath it. On the whole, the final track is a much more dense affair than "Ozeanische Gef?le," but it is a fitting end to the quiet sanctuary that much of this album is. It fades away into silence as a stringed instrument is plucked randomly and softly out of existence. This silence lasts only a few moments before a strange collage of bird sounds, bubble-like distortion, and phased noises lap over and into themselves. As the music flows throughout this album, as it moves away from its center and produces newer sounds and more diversity, it becomes more and more addicting. Waldron is demonstrating another side of his musical personality that had been hidden from view for too long and the resulting musical tide is mind-blowing.
How the mighty have fallen. Not that Andre Afram Asmar might really be considered mighty, but his last record for Mush was a beautiful mashup of hip-hop and middle eastern instrumentals that worked on any number of levels and preserved a sense of genuine respect for all of the sounds it culled. Enter Circus, the MC who manages to take AAA's production and run it into the ground with half-witted rhymes and a deadpan vocal delivery that recalls a suburban, middle-aged businessperson reciting a 'rap' in some corporate skill-building seminar. The album has a loose theme that revolves around alien abduction, conspiracy theories, and the Bush administration's war-waging in the middle east. Unfortunately, the serious themes and stupid themes are given just about equal billing, but its all played in a straight-faced way to render none of it funny or effective. The beats and samples that Circus drowns out might be worthwhile on their own, but it's impossible to separate the voice from the songs. I'll never quite understand how people who have an ear for quality music and deft MCs can listen to something like Gawd Bless the Faceless Cowards and feel that it's adequate or even fun to listen to. Inane rhymes delivered flatly over beats and samples about UFOs might make for a fun party record amongst friends, but only really close friends who aren't too critical, or who are really drunk. Someone got in the car with me when this record was on and the first question he asked was 'is this a demo someone sent you?' No, but maybe if someone had heard the demo first, they could have steered it somewhere productive. As it is, steer clear.
