Well, I'm a little hesitant to post this since I'm a little afraid that this might draw complaints from prudes. I'm also a little worried that this might elicit an unusual crowd. But hey, if you want to see people with wizard wands sticking out of their asses, then who am I to complain? I don't think I'm going to write anything about this one since I'm kinda curious to see how many people will just download it. Honestly, there's nothing to fear, it's quite good.
Again, this one is for my friends who have been giving Manuel Gottsching's album a lot of ear time. Some of them have told me that they've never heard his original band. And now you may though it's not going to sound anything like that album. Of course, Gottsching is a guitar god so that doesn't change here, but instead of sound sculptures that massage the mind, this album is like taking ten hits of acid. Heavily stoned krautrock in its pure form that gives you that mind leaving the body feeling. And would it be nice to take a trip right now? Not sure guys, maybe you'll like this one. But I suppose you can always delete it, so what's the harm.
The title of this disc pretty much explains what it's all about. Everyone knows that Mingus was a mean son of a bitch on the bass and that he was perhaps the most important jazz composer of all time. So it may be surprising to some that he's actual a good piano player too. Don't get me wrong, I'm not putting him up there with Cecil Taylor or anything, but he definitely can play. I also like the fact that some of his idiosyncrasies remain noticeable (he was a right nutter). I dunno I think this is safe enough so you can get away with playing it at your next dinner party. Also good for those sleepless nights spent staring out the window.
I think some of my pals who have enjoyed the more trancey things I post would dig this, so fellas give this a listen. Touchstones here could be Terry Riley and Lamonte Young in that there's definitely some heavy meditation going on here. But Cosi also has a Pharaoh Sandersish sax playing ability. He's also wise because drone records can get super fucking boring so he adds in some interesting elements like krautrock beats, exotic instruments, tribal percussion, etc. It all adds up to something that really surprised me on first listen. You know I typically could care less about what people are producing these days, which is why I was so pleased to stumble across this.
It's a warm and stormy day here and I'm in a contemplative mood, so this has been on heavy rotation. Last night was spent, in part, discussing classical music. This is a genre where my familiarity is a bit odd. I hardly know much about the big names but can go on and on about Feldman or Xenakis. I feel like someone who listens to rock music but hasn't heard the Stones. Anyways, this guy's name came up and most people I know who dig classical music aren't too hip to his work. I don't get that. So here's their chance. Break out the big headphones and brew some tea (I'll take lapsang suchong, thanks). Sit down in your comfy chair but give yourself some time because once this starts playing you're probably not going to want to do much else. I seem to remember a period back in the early 90s when he and fellow composers all got lumped into the "Holy Minimalism" genre and it seemed like they might actual have some mainstream success. Funny times those were.
I once thought that the influx of people wearing sweatpants in public signaled the downward cultural slope that we'd eventually have to face. Laziness to the point that putting two legs into pants seemed utter ridiculous, now things are even worse. I've noted, and I'm sure you have too, that recently nearly everyone I walk past seems to be content with slowing dragging their feet. Lift up those shoes motherfuckers. It's not difficult. I guess that's just how lazy we really are. This is probably the evolutionary step between functioning legs and some slug like means of locomotion that humans/chuds will eventually employ. This soundtrack might be just the right prescription to get those flabby legs pumping. Really, it's near impossible to listen to this and not start bopping around. I love Curtis Mayfield (who does the music here) and I love the Staple Singers too so this was obviously a paring that was going to work. And the film rules too.
I recently turned a bunch of friends on to the true bummer trip that is Sinatra's "In the Wee Small Hours." Man, what a downer that one is. So all of these friends who always hated Sinatra (I was once amongst their ranks) we're really surprised by what they heard. But that album might be kind of an easy sell since it's heralded by most as his classic work. This one, however, is one that is often neglected. That's a mistake. It's on par with Small Hours in that it feels like it was recorded in a bottle of scotch and it's full of agony and torment. Basically, it's his concept album about a failed marriage and all of the fallout that comes with it. This still might be a little too schmaltz for some people but if you can get past that, you're faced with an album as bleak as anything Nick Drake ever did. Oops, I just noticed that I didn't tag the tracks when I ripped this. That's something I tend to forget. Oh well.
I got some positive feedback from the Meic Stevens post, and I'm still on that whole Welsh jag, so here's another one that I don't believe is posted on Weird Brother (hey, make with more Welsh postings). I haven't a clue what this band's name means or what they're going on about in the songs, but I do know that it's something that seems to easy my worries. And right now, I've got plenty of those. My entire back is full of knots caused by stress. I need a new job, money, etc. Oh what fun life is. At least there's good music.
Okay, I'm pretty late to the game with all the hype surrounding the whole OFWGKTA phenomenon. I fucking hate Jimmy Fallon (a mountain of coke donning a skin suit) so I missed their performance that got all the hipster kids' to stop their crying more a minute. But going through their catalog, I started to get a little nostalgic. And that leads me to this post. I'm no rap expert so I'm not going to get into the significance of this album or try to discuss it in any other terms aside from saying that it's a classic I can turn to time and time again...that is, when I'm in the mood for rap (most of the time I am not).
How's this one for you? The lack of recent posts is largely in part due to gmail's decision to block my account. Not the blog but my actual e-mail address that this account is linked to. I have no reason why this is the case and no explanation was ever rendered, yet I had to go through a fairly idiotic process several times over before I could post again. And since lately I've spent some time with a pretty Swedish tennis player (I don't know how that happened either), I thought I'd post something from her native land. I mean, she even knows who Philemon Arthur and the Dung are. Not that she knows them personally, but that she knows who they are. And that's more than I can say about most girls. Anyways, this is another NWW lister, and, I believe, one of the better ones at that. Weirdo, outer limits psych with tons of bizarre instruments thrown in for good measure. What was really going on in Sweden at this time? Was there tons of good acid or something?
Yeah, this image sucks but I don't seem to see this anywhere on-line. Deal with it. Aggression aside, the fella over at the fantastic Weird Brother blog (visit it and learn) has reignited my love of Welsh music. I have know idea why the hell I love it so much, considering I can't speak the language at all and even just looking at it makes my head hurt, but there's just something that I have an unexplained connection to. And here's one of the Welsh masters in his early period. Later on, he gets super Welshy but here he sings in English as well, so there's no need to be afraid. I've read in places that he's supposed to be the Welsh Bob Dylan, but I'm not buying that. I'd much rather listen to Stevens, and that comparison always seems so facile. But then again, I'd say pretty much all of rock "criticism' is tripe written by fat slobs who still jerk it to faded Dictators tee shirts.
This is a fucking weird one. Not necessarily because of the song structure or lyrical content, but it's the instrument that makes this unusual. I believe the instrument that Philips plays is the Dolceola but that might not be right. Regardless of what it's called, it's fucking bizarre. It looks like a type of zither and sounds kinda like one too, but still, weirder. That alone made my instantly love this beautiful collection of old timey sounds. I remember Palace covered him on an early record and just checking things out on the internet, it seems that Phish covers him too. But don't let the horde of patchouli stank scumfucks ward you off from this. Hippies have been known to steal some good things, though their general disposition tends to gravitate them towards shit.
I can't say that I've ever dated a girl whose taste in music I respected. I mean, I've dated girls who like hip things and all, but it all seems too simple or specific or generic. But then again, most of the girls I've dated are in their early 20s and barely know shit about life anyways. The weird thing is that (and I have no understanding why) all of them seemed to really like this album. That always blows me away. And also, I'm not that type of guy who tries to force his tastes on his girlfriends in an attempt to make them cool. Most of my friends listen to complete shit. I could care less. But what the hell is it about this album that gets girls? I love it for sure. If I made a list it would probably make my top 100 records. But I don't picture a bunch of young hipster chicks listening to this. Seems more appropriate for lonely record nerds. By the way ladies (and I'm sure this will be a surprise), I'm single.
All the record goons I know seem to get hard when you mention the Raincoats first album. But why is it that the conversation end with just their debut? Is it because Kurt Cobain didn't put this one on his top 100 albums list? Obviously people aren't really listening because, while I love the first album, this is so much better. They dropped any punk tendencies, got better at their instruments, brought along Robert Wyatt (always a wise decision) and Charles Hayward (now you're super smart) and made a really brilliant album that seems appropriate for whatever the weather might be. If you're still sore about the fact that their won't be any more This Heat records and you don't have this one yet then the joke's on you pal.
I live in Morgantown WV, at least, that is until I finally push the reset button on my life. Many of you are probably unfamiliar of what this town is like. Because of that, I've decided to conduct some studies and observations around town and report back to you what the natives seem to prefer. Here is a list of my findings:
There used to be this really great record sale somewhere North of Chicago. Huge tents full of thousands of great finds. I pulled this one out of the dollar bin even though I had only a vague inclination as to what it would sound like. This was well before everyone's grandma had some minimal synth fetish. So I hadn't seen the movie and barring "Me and My rhythm Box" I didn't know what to expect. What I was happy to find is some heavy reliance on the Fairlight. If I ever get to the point where my misanthropy becomes all consuming, I plan on fabricating a water heater, aluminum foil, some pvc piping, and other assortments and living the rest of my life as a robot. This will serve as the perfect soundtrack to that new mode of living. I give myself a few more years before this plan in enacted.
Matthew Bower's work ethic makes me feel like I my veins are full of molasses or something. How the hell is that guy in ten thousand bands? There's no need to listen them all because my fingers only have so much stamina and you probably already have heard of most of them (or at least you should have by now). This band went through so many different musical approaches that it's difficult to post just one album since I love pretty much all of them. But this is the one that I think will appeal to the broadest fan base. But maybe you have a different personal favorite. That's fine, we're all entitled to our own opinions. Too bad I happen to have the correct one and you don't.
I really fucking hate the Police. I mean the band, not officers (though I have little love for them either). Friends, please stop trying to convince me they are good. They aren't. You have as much of a chance of getting me to listen to them as you would a Bob Marley album or whatever those dickless, privledged fucks who pretend their Africans shit out. Are we supposed to be impressed by all of Sting's claims of marathon fuck sessions. I know for a fact that Sting is much more contend servicing himself. Just listen to how masturbatory and self indulgent every thing he has ever been involved with for evidence. So, you're probably wondering, what's the point of this rant? It's all because, if you didn't already know, this band was some early work by Steward Copeland. There's the connection. But be not afraid, this is actually good. And much weirder than you're probably guessing. No budget, garage voyages into the cosmos. Jazzy, noodlely, and spacey. Now I almost feel guilty for mentioned the Police connection. Despite that horrendous taint, this album is still great.
In the pantheon of famous and well loved wife beaters, Turner seems to become the patsy. Take a look. Lennon was known to let the five fingers fly. Fuck, he even sings about it. But who talks about that? Michael Jordan's wife seems well acquainted with the back of his hand, but then again, he was able to put a ball in a hole, so I guess it's cool. But when it comes to poor Ike, the dude was never able to get mentioned without some allusion to his lustful fists. Too bad, because he was pretty bad ass (at punching ladies' faces). Some people prefer his pioneering early rock & roll (we can debate whether he actually invented it at another time), but I like this a bit more. This is another one that I'm sure has been sampled to death due to so many obvious breaks, but I don't listen to that shit so I'm only guessing.
It's a well established fact that goats are the third best animal on the planer (getting edged out by elephants and owls). So naturally, an e.p. entitled Goat Songs must be good, right? And I don't think this disappoints. I really don't know much of what this is about. There's a pretty fucked Leonard Cohen cover for people who go for that type of thing. But what I think draws people to this release is that it's purported to be a collaboration between Will Oldham (Palace) and Bill Callahan (Smog). At least that's what I seem to remember. This came out back in the early 90s so I might be wrong about that. My mind is in a gradual state of decay. Even if you could care less about those two sad sacks, this is still worth a listen. I admit, they both have moments of greatness, but there's also been much disappointment. Last time I saw Will Oldham, he was wearing nut-hugging cut off jean shorts. Not sexy.
If you only know Amebix as a patch sewn onto some crusty guy's pants then you are sorely missing out. You don't have to live in the gutter to enjoy this. In fact, I'm sure plenty of snooty people who claim not to like punk would get into this band if they just opened up their ear holes. If you like post-punk things, we'll they've got the throbbing bass sounds that people seem to be drawn to. More into metal? There's an overlap between their sound and Motorhead, which is what many have already mentioned. But then there's some other things that make this sound much unlike the stereotypical punk albums. Keyboards, hand claps, attempts at Russian folk? Probably not what you thought I was going to mention, right? See so you can't just dismiss genres so quickly.
I can't say I remember too much of driving through Lincoln Nebraska. That large tract of land that separates Chicago from Albuqueque that I'd frequently have to drive through becomes pretty fucking undefined. Of course, there's a certain charm in that almost oppressively vast sky, but the lack of reference points can also make you batty. So how does this contender for the best British post punk/ early shoegaze album come from god damned Lincoln? I've played this so many times to friends and then tell them it's a bunch of cornhuskers and not a single person believes me (okay, they don't have the accents down as good as Alain I suppose). One good thing (and perhaps the only) about everybody carrying around a computer in their phone is that I can prove I am right in a much quicker manner now (though I have to use someone else's phone since mine doesn't actually do that). But wait, back to the question. I am serious. How the hell did this come to be? A ten star masterpiece.
Sorry folks, but you really should have seen this one coming. I mean, I talk about Chicago bands pretty frequently. I even posted their Pailhead side project. So save the sneers. I get enough from my students as it is. I've been hearing (not necessarily listening) them from way back when Jourgensen preferred to be called Alain and in sang with a horrid faux-Brit accent. Since it was so ubiquitous it makes sense that I'd come to like it. And I'll make a prediction now. Sometime in the somewhat near future we will see a return of bands imitating the Wax Trax sound. This might send a shiver down the spine of some of you, but really, how many fakegaze bands do we really need?
If you check the labels for this post and DNA and Mars mean anything to you, then this is something to grab. While those two No Wave icons were dealing with the more abstract and abrassive edges of the NY sound, this "super group" heads for the rhythmic. The Latin tinged noise funk gestures seem to have few analogs. I guess Konk and Liquid Liquid were doing things sort of this ilk, but this one weirds them both out. I've sure there's a few other bands I could reference and then this would all make sense, but nothing's coming to mind at the moment, and this isn't something I really feel like sitting here and thinking about.
Last posting day, I focused entirely on music of the 90s. There was no reason aside from the fact that it just popped into my head and I thought it might lead to some diverse results yet still maintain some time of format. So, on that point I guess today I'll go with the 80s since it's another decade people seem to fetishize. You can say what you want, but I don't remember it being all that great. But this album (a comp of their first few e.p.s actually) is that great. I think all it will take is a listen of the lead track, "Cottage Industry," and you'll agree. Some quick glances around the internet seemed to suggest that these guys were pretty popular at the time. I don't seem to remember anyone talking about them.
