Hmm..I can't seem to remember much about this one aside from the fact that it's a pretty little cassette. And the internet hasn't really provided me with any useful info. Kinda like the Marine Girls, Dolly Mixture, and maybe some Beat Happening. It's some nice jangly 80s girl (for most of the tracks) pop. Probably better suited for a hazy summer day rather than this blistering cold. Perhaps you live in such a climate. You bastard.
The Third Ear Band made their way around the free festival circuit in the late 60s. From there they went on to do some soundtrack work (most notably for Polanski's MacBeth). Their earlier, raga infused space jams turned the heads of many heads. John Peel thumbed some Jew's harp on their first album. They even opened for the Stones at their Hype Park concert. Yet somehow, this album remained unreleased until a few years back. Odd, because it really shows them moving into a more conventional (if they ever really do get conventional) style. Less jammy and more song oriented, yet definitely on the weird side. To my ear, some of these songs seem to predict elements later incorporated by numerous goth bands. But that's just my ear.
I mentioned this band in my post on Eden Ahbez (they cover Nature Boy), so I figured I probably shouldn't hold out on those poor souls who haven't been enlightened by this bliss. Easily falls into my top 10 American psych records. As much as I like Tim Hardin, Gandalf's covers of a few of his songs far improve on the originals. It's classic psych pop with all the 60s studio trickery, but the trickery is never at the expense of the song (as many great psych pop records have been ruined by). The cover should probably clue you in to what the sound is all about, but it's so much more. 
What a crime. Only tiny pictures could be found of this peach. And such a silly cover really needs more than just this. Punk and Goth cultures have always been intrinsically linked despite whatever the aide-de-camp of each might claim. History has shown that when the mood called for some doomy romanticism, punks picked up on gothic tropes. And, obviously so much of the goth subculture evolved directly from the punks. But goth & hardcore have a different history. Yet there was a time when it seemed like this unholy union might actually lead to some interesting new sounds. Ink & Dagger, Crimson Curse, and Antioch Arrow all instigated this genre exercise. And here's what it led to. The screamo vocals are replaced by whispers & coos. The spasmodic playing typical of the San Diego style is still present, but it's supplemented with organ grinder creaks and dark synth moves. This album might be responsible for a lot of the garbage that is now emo (well, I doubt those kids actually listened to this, so maybe not), but if that's the case, let's cut them some slack. It remains a terribly underrated album.
Unlike many in the soft pop genre, this album avoids the Fruit Stripe Gum factor--the alluring cover (fuck yeah, psychedelic zebra), the enticing aroma, that delicious first bite; but too soon you feel like you've been had as the great fruit taste vanishes and it feels/tastes like your chewing on some wood. No, this is much more akin to the confectionery pinnacle known as the Nerds Rope. The more you bite off, the more your palate becomes confused by an overload of flavors. The texture both pleases and perplexes as the crunchy nerds give way to the chewy goodness of the rope. While the candy comparison might be a bit too facile, there is a definite sweetness to these recordings. And there's just enough sadness to keep it interesting.
I recently had the misfortune of reading some lame brain bemoan the difficulties of living a musician's life. Claiming the hours of deep thinking (I'm sure) led to isolation from others, this fool continued to plea for his readers' sympathy. Yet, seeing as his compositional methods most likely involve listening to Forever Changes and Odessey & Oracle, changing a few chords, then weeping for a while, I'm having a hard time seeing what the problem is. If it's all too troubling, then I think it's time to pack it in Sally. For future employment, I'd suggest getting a piece of card board, writing "will cry on command" on it, and pestering passersby for change. But at least he avoided the dreaded "artiste's" discussion on "craft" (a word I only want to hear if it's in reference to mac & cheese). Anyways, here's a musician that could honestly lay claim to suffering for one's art. All ball theft aside, Moreschi seemed to have led a pretty disappointed life. So no gripes from some idiot on daddy's dole is going to pull at my heart strings. And if I hear any more crying of this sort, plans may be arranged so that Moreschi won't be the last castrato any longer. Just think how lovely it would be to hear that high, clear male soprano once more.
I was recently interested in see what people are downloading from this site. Surprisingly, The Flesheaters, Cardiacs, and E.L.O. (?) were pretty popular. Unfortunately, nearly every metal album remained untouched. So I figured I'd give the people what the don't want. Here's more metal for you. This time it's a pretty odd sound though. These two tracks (combining for 20 minutes) offer a sludge/Japanese folk hybrid that I can't really find a parallel to. But I suppose there's really no sense in describing it since you lost interest once you read the word metal.
If you want a whole history and explanation about the Bauls, then go look at wikipedia. There's just a lot of stuff to write about this, and really, I don't have that much of an interest in writing that article. All you need to know about this is given to you by the album title. It's Indian street music. Either you have an interest in this, or you don't. It's part of the nonesuch explorers series, if that means anything to you. 
I only know two things about this 7": Ana Hausen is a band, not a person, and I really enjoy the dark Joy Divisionish sparsity here. I don't remember how I found out the first thing fact. The second one is obvious. Just give this a quick listen (it's pretty short) and it'll be clear. The whispered girl vocals and great repetitive throb bass really make this a treat. A quick search really didn't turn up anything of interest, so I guess that's that.
Here's the lone 7" (I think) from these unusual Antipodeans. Sometimes there's a Beat Happening-like dumb drums that I can't get enough of. There's also a jingle jangle surfish type guitar. And while I enjoy pretty much every aspect of this disc, it's the hushed girl vocals that just slay me. Most songs feel like they're threatening to fall apart at any moment and just inwardly collapse. An atypical sound for 1981 that continues to reward. Fill your empty head with these sounds now.
Perhaps there is no better record for hushed afternoons on grey days than this masterpiece. This is one of those few records that upon initial listen it instantly becomes one of your all time favorites. So rarely does that happen that when I first heard this years ago, I was instantly obsessed. So dark and beautiful and utterly human. There's a fragility that shines through even at the most psychotic moments. I won't even stoop to try to compare this to anything else.
This had to have pissed off plenty of jazzbo at the time, despite the fact that Ayler had been hinting at a more mainstream direction on previous albums. But this still had to be pretty unexpected. The soul/r&b power is pretty strong here as Ayler decides to step up to the mic and delivery slithery vocals sometimes as odd as his noted sax skronk. And it's really not that bad. Still hated by many, I picked up the Japanese version of this on line for less than a dollar. Who let that happen. Worth it alone for the sweet beard cover.
This 7" was the roots from which the Sonic Youth tree has flourished. And from that mighty tree many leaves have sprung, fallen, were raked up, and placed in refuse bins where they decompose. If you're listening to what's in the bin, go back to the roots and wise up. Guitar gods smiled when Rudolph Grey & Von Lmo united for this classic. 
Not much of an opera fan? Well, me neither though I've dated several girls who really enjoy it. But this no wave opera was something they just weren't having. And I wasn't having that. Composed by the New York elite from DNA and Mars, this take on Mozart's Don Giovanni is an opera lover's nightmare. This has some of the most out vocals you'll ever hear. And I've frequently seen this appear on the most unlistenable albums lists. For people with a third ear only.
A friend and I have had nights where we'd listen to Fleetwood Mac's Albatross over and over again. Then we'd find clips of it on youtube and watch those for a while. It must be one of the most transcendent guitar pieces I've ever heard. Mellow, understated, fractured, beautiful, and timeless. While the troubled Green was never able to top that majestic work, he did provide one classic album after he split with the Mac. And here it is. Of course, the guitar work is flawless. It's no Albatross, but I don't think anything else is, so why even try to compare it.
Wrestling has long had a connection to the world of rock. Captain Lou Albano was lauded by NRBQ (and was in a Cyndi Lauper video), I think Hulk Hogan had an album, and there's been endless awesome rock entrance theme songs. The Road Warriors and Demonlition both had a kinda pre-black metal corpse paint thing going on. And there was err....the Rockers. But this one isn't some hokey gimmick. For this psych, biker rock, funk classic old school wrestler Beauregarde enlisted the aid of 17 year old Greg Sage (The Wipers) to provide the best Hendrix imitation that a 17 year old can. Beauregarde was probably better in the square circle than on the vinyl disc, but there's a interesting sub-Doors darkness that permeates this recording. And on the back sleeve he's driving one of the most bad ass motorcycles I've ever seen.
Following Aesop's post of the Green River album over at Cosmic Hearse a few days ago, I was reminded of this pretty little single. If, like me, you wish Mudhoney got their true credit, then you'll probably want to give this single by their frontman a spin. There's the Dylan parody cover (see above) and a cover of Dylan (Masters of War). Let the grunge revival begin.
Townes Van Zandt really has to be rated as one of the best of all time. Not best song writer (though he is often cited in the tops), not the best singer or guitar player--just the best. There's so few singers that when you listen to them you're brought to the brink of suicidal abyss, yet find it oddly comforting. The weather worn voice with a slight, yet warm, Southern accent is that beacon that refuses to let you fall into the miasma of despair. Lyrically, Van Zandt is clever (but not for clever's sake), down to earth, ribald, humorous, but mostly pretty harrowing and depressing. And nearly everything he produced is essential. How did this notorious drunkard remain so consistent? This is not my favorite Van Zandt release, not even close, yet it's still amazing, and a friend wanted to hear it. And there's no reason why everyone shouldn't download it. Just get ready for a few tears.
One of the best albums from the whole 60s psych inventory. Unlike pretty much anything else at the time, the Silver Apples still couldn't/can't be ripped off due to their highly idiosyncratic sound. As a two piece the Apples utilize a homemade oscillation patch board unit, dubbed the simeon, as the lead instrument. While people have long raved about the importance of the electronics, I've always felt the drums, masterfully played by Danny Taylor, are the real highlight. The patterns are insanely complex, yet funky and groove driven. Each time I listen to this I hear more. And I've been listening to this for years. This shit is still more modern and futuristic than anything available currently.
Eden might be the first hippie in the world. Check the long locks and that ratty beard (long & strong since the 40s). The dude lived under the Hollywood sign, on a diet of fruits and berries. Eden hit it big when Nat King Cole cover his tune, Nature Boy (I prefer the Gandalf and Big Star versions more). Yet Ahbez continued to fly his freak flag. While he might be straddled with the onus of being the progenitor of those odious hippies, but I prefer he be remembered for this great album instead. Full of lush South Pacific exotica, the album possesses a certain cheese factor that transcends corniness and becomes endearing. So bask in the rays of your heat lamp and turn this up.
I know you've been bemoaning the loss of Young Marble Giants for nearly thirty years. That triple cd reissue of Colossal Youth might have provided a needed stop gap, but I'm sure it was nearly enough to quell the burning desire for more lo-fi synthy goodness. Good news. You can dry your spectacle on the sleeve of your cardigan since this little gem is about as close as your going to get. There's the requisite cute girl hush vocals, minimal synth plinks, slow moods, and the upbeat pop too. Now, I won't say that this will replace your beloved YMG, but it will provide that brief solace so rarely found.
I think there exists a mathematical theorem that posits that a band's greatness is directly proportionate to the mean group weight divided by band members times the amount of ugliness plus the assumed amount of stench created by the band. But I haven't had a math class since I was a junior in high school so this might not be exact. But if we're to follow this equation there's little doubt that Poison Idea were possibly the best American punk band (perhaps of all time). When you've got band members who are so fat that they play sitting down, you've got a pretty kick ass band. It's that simple. Fuck all these well groomed, walking sticks boppin' around Williamsburg. Keep rock ugly. Pig Champion, you continued to be missed.
Unfortunately short lived post-Embrace pre-Fugazi outing by one Ian MacKaye. In a way, it kinda foreshadows his involvement in Pailhead in its melodic mid-tempo sound though it lacks Pailhead's industrial edge. It's odd to think how different the contemporary music landscape would be if this project was ever able to take off and Fugazi's ice cream rants never went on to influence every indie nerd in the 90s. Maybe this happened in some parallel universe far, far away.
One more reason to love Milwaukee. Hmm...this might be the best hardcore disc ever released. It's a tough call, but yeah, I think I'd pick this one. It gets kinda difficult to follow this band after their self titled album (though October File certainly has some great moments). And I don't think we need to explore their Cheap Trick tribute side project. Instead, lets just appreciate some Midwest greatness. Utterly essential listening.
It's understandable that these guys couldn't buy an audience in their native Louisville. The out there avant rock stylizings on this mini album really lack peers anywhere in the world. Maybe closest to the New York No Wave scene, these odd ducks really didn't fit in anywhere and their relocation to France obviously didn't lead to international success. The reissues (Prehistory was just recently re-released) and even a deal with Matador in the 90s never resulted in the accolades this forward thinking band should have received. Sadly, I think I pulled this one out of a dollar bin. What a crime.
Long ago, I was friends with a fella who claimed that in his youth, he would run around his house screaming the 0DFX's (a.k. Zero Defex) classic "Drop the A Bomb on Me" so frequently that his sister eventually had terror dreams of nuclear annihilation. At least, I that's how I remember the story going. Unfortunately, that beloved song is not represented here on these demos. But you still get plenty of high intensity punk fury with all the 80s trappings. It's a shame this remained buried for all those years.
It might be a bit gauche to follow Siege with this. Here, you can have my punk club membership card back if you want. But man, if you can't appreciate Empty Sky through Captain Fantastic, you might want to Van Gogh those ears. Now, all of my students love Nick Drake's soundtracks to commercials, but there once was a time (hard to remember now) where this lonesome soul wasn't so damned ubiquitous. I suppose there's little reason to really listen to Drake's work now since all you have to do is turn on the t.v. Thanks Volkswagon.
Utterly essential if your into anything brutal and skull crushing. These Beantowners influenced punks, metal heads, noise niks, and general weirdos,with this way ahead of it's time demo (this cd rip also contains some comp. tracks too). Super fucking punk. They'd play a 20 second song then go off on come creep jazz punk a few tracks later. For years people have tried to achieve this greatness. An admirable aspiration, yet one so fraught with hubris. You're not gonna top this but I'm not gonna say that you can't give it a go.
Oh no. Only tiny pictures can be found. And I'm definitely too lazy to scan them in. But I think we'll live. Well, with the resurrection of the godly Jesus Lizard, we might not need the Touched anymore, seeing as they seemed to emerge from the toxic sperm/sweat/oil pool that birthed J.L. But that might not be fair, since they temper their sound with some 70s Clevo punk. Raw rawk from Louisville (Lewis-ville now being the preferred pronunciation over the standard and overly affected Lurvul) that continues to please. C'mon, what's more loving than a song like "Baby's not a Whore"? Maybe they should play that at weddings. Possibly a few funerals too.
Since his first 7" Kevin (Pink Reason) instantly became one of my favorite musicians of the 2000s. Cleaning the Mirror was such a classic album that cycled through so many moods and sounds that it's still hard to find equivalents of such quality. And I think that's probably the reason I can always come back to this dude's music. Every release sounds different, yet they all sound great. So sometimes you get the lo-fi Royal Truxisms, dark, creaky folk, manic punk, bloozy stomp, bedsit mopery, shoe gazing fuzz pop--just about anything that you liked in your teens and was hoping someone would come along and revitalize. Any of his work could have been posted, I just think By a Thread might be his best song. So there.
Harmony Korine always seemed a bit overrated to me. Most of his films sound interesting but continuously fail to live up to their potential. I don't know why, but I always feel a bit deflated and disappointed when I watch his work. Instead, I'd rather listen to this, an album of strummed up backwoods racket he made with one of his pals. There's a certain Amon Duulish primitivism and earthy howl that was quite surprising to me. For some reason, when I heard Korine had an album I expected it to be much more hip (maybe something with some coked out synthscapes and tight trousers). It's by no means groundbreaking, but it's still an enjoyable 30 minute listen. A delightful discovery.
If you love Wire (only a fool wouldn't) you might find this 12" of interest as it contains both Gilbert & Lewis. I can't say it's better than Pink Flag or Chairs Missing or any of the other classics, but it definitely isn't just one for the fanatics. Two tracks (one 4 minutes and the other, a 20 minute expansion of the previous track) draw from Wire/Dome sound, but are a little more dancey and experimental. Another classic from the NWW list.
Sometimes I kinda wonder about the state of child rearing in mid-70s France. Well, I don't think it about it that often, except for when I give this disc a listen. But I doubt there's a lot of parents who'd play this over kids bop nowadays. Looking at the cover will clue you in as to how nutters this record is. Basically, it's a children's fairy tale, but there's weird voices, out pianos, goofy organs, oinks & squeals, some folkiness too. It's just a weird one. So it should come as no surprise that it was included in the Nurse With Wound list. You don't need to speak French to enjoy this one, but it does help. So light up a Gauloise, adjust your beret, and sample this slice of fromage. This will probably be the only children's record I'll ever post.
Somebody tell the Vivian Girls they're about 20 years too late. A band has already done the girly, up tempo, poppy, buzzy, what have you. But they did it better. And looks didn't sell records for them. While you might have a legion of record nerds giving themselves a good yank over your photos, deep down, people are aware of the conceit. It's just that record nerds are a lonely sort and cherish the times when their hobbies of music collecting and awkwardly staring at girls (never talking to them, mind you) can be combined, no matter how hollow it is. You might be cute, but I'm not buying it. But I'm sure plenty of others will.
A real under appreciated disc of 80s dark broodiness. Even when Matador decided to reissue this back in the 90s people remained disinterested. Too bad since it fits nicely on the shelf next to their Boston confreres Mission of Burma, as they too used the odd tape loop or two to create bleak atmospheric shapes. But this is less punky than Burma. Singer, Thalia Zedek, later got a little recognition with her still underrated band Come. I can't tell you why she never seems to get the acknowledgment she deserves. Man, the girl's got bad luck.
Cults are hilarious. I guess no matter how ridiculous you can be, if you've got charisma and dope you can find some fools eager to embrace you as their savior. And what a cult the Source was. They cranked out a large stack of self published records that sing the praises of the man pictured on the above cover. Father Yod, as he was known, ended up dying from a snapped neck; the result of a hang gliding accident. But in life Yod did several other super cool things. Just look at some of his other album covers and you'll see what I mean. On this album the Father decided to add some of his vocal stylings to the primitive acid mash. Sometimes, he flits around buzzing like a bee. I'm not sure if that's considered vocals, but...Other times he achieves a sub-Jim Morrison croon. Between the caterwaul blooze voice and the bzzzzzzzzzzzzzing, you've got some pretty out tunes. And just look at that beard. He's probably cruising through space in his cosmic Rolls Royce right now.
As one of the more successful daughter fuckers of recent times, Philips was expected to roll out the same dull crud as he did in the Mamas & the Papas. But the heroin said otherwise. This is a burnt album where you can probably hear the cook spoons clanking in the background if you listen hard enough. And while I'm making it sound like a mess, it really isn't. It's really a great pop record by someone whose just falling apart. There was no way he'd ever be able to top this. Everyone says that if the Mamas & the Papas recorded this it would have been better, but fuck that noise, I don't want to hear Mama Cass' fat ass bleating out garbage on this beauty.
Marc Bolan, I should blame you for making this classic, which Devendra Banhart blatantly ripped off, shat on, and got cool points for doing said crime. But no. You'll always be a god around these parts. As strongly as I hate the previously mentioned plagiarist (ooh, you're so weird, I know) I inversely love Marc Bolan. Every goddam song on this is fantastic. Yeah, it's fey and fruity, but so am I. I'm not going to put on fairy wings and prance around to this or anything ridiculous. I might take Pegasus out for a fly around a rainbow however.
I bought this some time back on the tip that these Floridians were trafficking in some gazey bliss drone. And the tip paid off. While lots of people currently try to ape the British mop tops of the 90s, these folks may draw from the same well, but make it their own. There's a hard layer of noise to crack, but underneath all of that are some pretty pop songs. I'm just not sure if they're played at frequencies the human ear can detect.
If you mention thangs in your title, I will like your album. Who doesn't like thangs, especially when they are of the guitar persuasion? Presented by Funkadelic guitar freak, this album captures the stoned acid funk without all the intergalactic hoohah. There's a Beatles and a Mamas & the Papas covers but that shouldn't scare you off. They get a hard dose of funkification that makes harmless dreck like California Dreaming listenable. We've all heard the Maggot Brain story too many fucking times, so dig deeper and uncover this treasure. Now if someone can find me that hat/cape combo I'll love you forever.
Hard to believe that when D.C.'s punk scene was up in arms about fucking, these miscreants slithered out of the same slime that produced Flipper, Fang, Church Police, etc. Now, I love the old Dischord stuff, but these guys just seem miles removed from all that jazz. Slow, hate filled head smackers, which I'm sure were designed to frustrate & bewilder the punks. And it still sounds relevant. The hatred was strong with these ones.
More dark folkiness issued on the legendary ESP-Disk. This comes courtesy of one Tom Rapp, currently a wall street lawyer, previously a songwriter who beat Dylan in a songwriting competition. While ESP-Disk was mostly home to some of the oddest free jazz sounds, they released a few folk gems as well. But this is my personal favorite from their catalog. The Bosch cover should indicate that this ain't gonna be some dancing in the fields with the wind blowing through our long hair hippie folk. And while it's not gonna make you slit your wrists, it's not gonna cheer you up any. But who wants that anyways?
International Harvest got really creative and came up with this new moniker for reasons of which I am unaware. After this release Persson would form the holy Trad, Gras och Stenar and melt faces all over the world. In fact, I was lucky enough to see them play Chicago a few years back and these geriatrics slayed all the weird beard fake hippies in the room. Though they might look like grandpas they continue to rule. Good for them. That aside, this is probably the most folky of Persson work. Really enchanting sounds that have a certain earthy appeal, but don't worry, there's still plenty of brain fried heaviness.
Rising from the ashes of the mighty Parson Sound, International Harvester continued the tribal space thud while adding some folk inflected tones. Mastermind, Bo Anders Persson, still brings the trancey droniness that made Parson Sound such a treat (making them sound like Spacemen 3 some 20 years before the fact). But this isn't some drift project. There's plenty of heaviness here. Thunderclap horns, death march chants, caveman skull dance, and trad Swede folk create something all together new and delightful.
Nico, you sang-froid valkerie. I could stare at this cover for days. And it perfectly depicts the icy bleakness that Nico, and former V.U. mate John Cale conjure up here. Man, it is dark. Dark as fuck. You almost feel that when this record starts a black hole opens up somewhere and spews forth this infectious sorrow. Don't expect the poptones of her V.U. work or the orch-pop of her first record. This is experimental folk bleakness from the true ice princess. A perfect match for the desolate snow covered scenery around here. I think this might have dropped the temperature about 10 degrees when I last listened to it.
With his homemade instruments this guy influenced many of today's musicians (Tom Waits, Beck, etc--anyone who wanted to get a little 'out there'). I'm no music scholar so I won't even venture to write on his use of microtonal scales or any of that other shit. All I can say is that if your not familiar with Partch, you're in for a real treat. Just take a look at some of those crazy instruments he made and I'm sure you'll want to hear how they sound. Any song that uses hobo post marks as its lyrics is sure to be a winner. "All you have to do is find me."
A lot of my friends are really into Skip Spence's Oar and all of the psychotic beauty it contains. But when asked about their take on the Grape, nary a option is rendered. In an attempt to alleviate this travesty, here's their debut for your listening pleasure. Yes, Skip has a few tunes here (and they're some real doozies), but that's only one reason to listen to this true psych classic. From opening track to its close, there's not one bum track. It has to be one of the most consistent psych classics of all time. There's plaintive meditations, blues rave ups, psych noodle scratchers, and so much more. Fuck Cat Power for messing with the fantastic "Naked, If I Want To." Keep your mitts off the classics sugar, and stick with your temper tantrums. Go on, give it a taste.
I suppose I'm not going to be able to write anything that hasn't already been written about G.I.S.M. Their punk metal hybrid first came to my attention through the P.E.A.C.E/War comp. where their ridiculous Engrish really stood out. I was never too sure what "Endless Blockades For The Pussyfooter" signified, but I was intrigued. This album, their first I think, quickly became an all time favorite. Everything these loons recorded is worth tracking down. Your quest begins now.
Carr's gotta be my all time favorite soul singers. Often compared to Otis Redding (and it's actually a pretty fair comparison), Carr's truly fucked life really came across in these songs. There's classics like the definitive version of "The Dark end of the Street," and "You've Got my Mind Messed Up," but it's "I'm Going For Myself Now" that has continued to help me through many dark times. This is a collection of soul tracks that really sounds like a soul crying. Even the up beat and funky workouts have an essence rarely captured on disc.
