Hot on the heels of 2003???s ???Quicksand / Cradlesnakes??? comes this concept LP
of recurring dream and Druid legend. A half-man, half-bird figure of legend
haunts these sprawling mirages of ancient battle and laconic, ethereal interim;
squalls of darkness patch themselves between melodic loam and numerological
tension alongside the mercy and revenge of elephant-horns, muted drums,
pump organ, slide guitar, treated piano, violin, fretless banjo and omnipresent
electronic looping. The vision belongs to vocalist Tim Rutili, along with bandmates
Ben Massarella (percussion), Jim Becker (guitars, keyboards) and Joe Adamik
(reeds, horns) and is brought to realization with producer Michael Krassner &
the usual Chicago all-star sessioneers : Wil Hendricks (bass), Fred Lonberg Holm
(cello), et. al. A product of extemporaneous creation in the studio and the
spectre of metaphysics outside of it, Rutili is a long long way from RED RED MEAT
days ??? though the riverbeds still swirl with enigma, it is the topography of semi-
coma that now presupposes symbolism, moving CALIFONE toward a more
compelling interpretation of an ancient future.
MITCH December 2003
Hot on the heels of 2003???s ???Quicksand / Cradlesnakes??? comes this concept LP
Avant-exotica? Much in the vein of Yoshimi’s
earlier picture disk. The other reason “Y”
is Yuka Honda of Cibo Matto, who adds a lot
of tinkling key work. Yoshimi also brings
the trumpet more to the front at times,
it has appeared a little bit in her OOIOO
project. Nuns on mescaline singing/keening
in parts…and lot’s o’ fauna doing backup
vox (birds, dogs and insects). As legend,
or perhaps just marketing, has it…this
CD was created at a temple atop Mt. Ikoma
after hiking all of the instruments up
there. (So I guess that’s an electric
piano on much of the album ;>) I prefer
the tracks where the “bamboo” percussion
makes an early entrance. En trance in
trance tranq quill trance end.
Vienna-based pianist delivers a precise and poetic
release. His quartet here includes Stefan Nemeth on
synthesizer, their interplay is like a dog and a cat
that get along…somewhat surprising and all the more
enjoyable to observe because of that. Territories are
not marked strictly, and at times prepared treatment
for Oskar blurs the line where the piano stops. Much
of the work here has a crystalline beauty; precise
stops in phrases (like question marks hanging), quick
but bright clusters, and lighter than air work on the
upper 44 keys. Deep sea bass work by Achim Tang (with
some scrubbing/bowing) and percussive punctuation by
Paul Skrepek add significantly. The invisible fifth
member of the quartet is Christoph Amman, who captured
this in a gorgeous recording, don’t miss it.
Hard to separate the irony from the gold, hard to
filter the sample from the directly generated (or
should I say degenerated) sound. Perhaps that is the
split in this war? Or could it be that Drew Daniel
and M.C. Schmidt find themselves at each other’s
throats after jetsetting about as Bjork-End BoyToys?
Well if they are each others throats, it is only to
record the sound of blood in the carotid artery
(that and music made from rabbit pelt are purportedly
among the sonic inputs at work here). Listen to their
rendition of “Stars and Stripes Forever” these guys
may be too clever for their own good. But this is
the future, sampling not as a mode of deconstruction
but rather Reconstruction. And perhaps that would
have been a more fitting title to this album of
mechano-server marches and madness? Having seen
them with her Bjorkness, I hope beyond innovation
and technique, they will help lead a rallying of
performance and presentation, a point where power
electronics is often all mouse, no man.
Noise pop deluxe. Tangled hair and broken guitar
strings…pull ’em out the skin and let the lady
scream/sing. That ain’t no lady, it’s Nikki Colk.
Punky and profficient. And pile on petulant as
well. Her vocals would make a snail panic. Her
voice flails, often over a raucous chorus. Those
choruses sound like chipmunks at kung fu class.
At times Colk’s lead voice has the fideliy of
a fast-food drive-up-window. Sophomore release
from these Brighton’d whites thrills with shrill.
But it delivers….rarely relaxing the pace.
“Nothin New” is kinda dainty, “Moi” is a cuckoo
clock in a cowboy hat. “3am” is the comedown,
passed out in a grandfather clock. Lyrics read
as though lifted from diaries before sobering up.
Guitar goes 90 mph the wrong way on the xpressway
to yer skull. Don’t forget to rock?
Flotsam and sinksam from Bill Callahan. Well
captured in oft rough recordings. We’ve got
vapor-lock blues, anti-rock star heroics
(“It’s Not Gonna Be a Hit”) and the ol’
Smog favorite, collapsible relationships.
He seems like a guy who’s counting on the
big nasty breakup even in the honeymoon
phase of a relationship. (“I Break Horses”)
There’s a flare somehow in the flatness of
Callahan’s voice, and as well as anyone
he can make the lurid, alluring. I like
the fact that many Smog songs, when they hit
the spot where the bridge should come they
almost go flatline. Hell, the songs start
off with pretty economical lyrics and guitar
playing and then they lose their shirt and
their way for awhile….till the next verse
comes along and gives ’em a ride back to
tune. On the lighter side, Callahan does
quote “Baby’s Got Back” on the tail end
(where else) of “Real Live Dress”
A new release going up at the same time as
his Accumulation time capsule. Bill Callahan
has the detached disdain handed down through
various undergrounds, Velvet and otherwise.
The sharpness of his lyrics, and his acerbic
stage persona always command my attention.
The songs here are less dilapidated as he’s
got a real live band behind him, and his
fondness/fiendishness with the femme fatales
has been displaced by a love of conundrums.
There’s some solid cognitive dissonance he’s
dishing out…and “Truth Serum” and “Guiding
Light” are just well crafted.
Jackie-O Mofo checks in with this field report as they continue on their journey
down the path of musical exploration and cut-out bin obscurity. Always a fairly
‘free? unit, Jackie-O has toned down the louder, more raucous elements of
their earlier releases in favor of a more textured, organic approach. The
opening track, ‘Everyday?, sets the standard for that new (sub)genre that all
the alleged ‘Americana? experts have completely missed: late-night, downcast,
‘free country?. ‘Sun Ray Harvester? is an eastern-tinged piece of atmospheric,
bang and clatter, basement improv/psych. ‘7″ is a 47 second waste of vinyl.
‘777 (Tombstone Massive)? mines a similar vein as ‘Sun Ray Harvester? ,
except the eastern influences are replaced by more jazzy elements and the
track is way more chaotic, in general, due to the abrupt changes that occur as
a result of the track’s ‘cut and paste? editing.The album’s final track, ‘Fantasy
Hay Co-Op? is another tense, late-night offering that centers around a couple
of repetitive figures and is, as a result, more focused and satisfying (IMHO) than
‘777 (Tombstone Massive)? . Overall, this is quite an interesting and enjoyable
release. Play! DL
After 30+ years of psych/spacerock, it takes something pretty special to really make an
impact on me. Unfortunately, this latest full-length from Seattle’s Kinski (their third) is
not such an album. It is, however, an enjoyable record of (mostly) instrumental contemporary psych/spacerock, filled with the standard elements of the (sub)genre: analogue synth tones and drones, Krautrock rhythms, and thick, shoegaze, distorto-haze, applied in different combinations and intensities on various tracks to create music that is at some times spare, delicate, and melodic and other times is propulsive and soaring. ‘Semaphore? (which should already be familar to you, as a live version of it was included, under a different title, on KFJC’s, ?…Devil’s Triangle, Vol. 4? compilation) and ‘Rhode Island Feakout? are the most straight-up rockers on the album. Both versions of ‘I Think I Blew It? are blissed out, ambient solo pieces by leader Chris (Ampbuzz) Martin. I find ‘Your Lights Are (Out Or) Burning Badly? to be reminiscent of GYBE, but in a shorter and way stripped down form. ‘Schedule For Using Pillows And Beanbags? is the album’s epic centerpiece. As I said, certainly nothing groundbreaking, but still an enjoyable listening experience. DL
This is the second full-length release from the Arizona Duo, Migrantes.
Two tracks (A2 and B2) are actual songs in a folk psych vein. The
remaining four tracks are more ‘otherworldly?, Featuring mainly droning
organ and Caroline’s ethereal, effected vocals. ‘Gesture?, which
features Jason on electric guitar, is the most loud/aggressive of these
tracks, while ‘Baboquivari?, offers the most pure drone bliss. A nice
soundtrack for rainy days and late nights. For those about to float…DL
Hot on the heels of their recent stunning live performances (one at the Hemlock and one here
at KFJC), comes this new disc from the Davis Redford Triad. ‘Code Orange? is a live collage of
performances from their Spring 2002 tour. It includes material from their prvious releases, as
well as rocked-out, electric versions of material from leader Steven Wray Lobdell’s excellent solo
album, ‘Automatic Writing By The Moon?. In addition, there are three new pieces, which will
appear onthe next DRT studio album. All the tracks are instrumental psych jams, some more
Krautrock influenced, others more middle-eastern tinged, but all driven by the unique,
effects-laden, colorful sonic attack of Lobdell and his old ES335. Overall, this certainly is worth a
spin or two, but I can’t deny that it seems a little pale in comparison to the scorching brilliance of
their recent shows. More proof that Dolphy was right. DL
COTI is famed producer/sound engineer on the Greek electronic
indie scene; he has 2 LPs out on of mostly ambient
electro melodics, and one more recent on that veers
toward a deep listening, gentle Moor Music / harmonious landscape.
???Crab Promenade??? is an outtake for those sessions, using a seaside
melody as backdrop, it skips along over ascetic rocks & sensual
whirlpools in an unflagging example of clean + sedate parallel melo-
harmonics/percussive electronica. Much the left-brain at the beach
to this, the left side, that is. The MUS track previously appeared on
???Little Darla Has a Treat For You V. 18???, and strolls the fashion
runway with a definite andalusian couture; subtle, stylish & serene ???
small jacket, flared skirt over layers of lace and tulle, detailed perhaps
with beaded frills and a bliss-out of pristine dimensions. Delectable,
of elaborate embroidery, as if finding a slow moment in this messy
world, ???Dexase Apagar??? is a pause of serenity in a swelter of frivolity.
Sanguine sounds from Greece and Spain.
MITCH July 2002
Improving on debut, ???Ugly But Honest???, producer Chris Walla
delivers a recording of immediate/emotional power within a
carefully balanced parameter of acoustic string instruments,
resonant lo-fi percussion and songs that are like secrets,
veiled in violin & whispered in sleeping beauteous emulsion.
CARISSA???S WEIRD founders Mat Brooke + Jean Ghetto
front this 5-piece, which also includes accordionist Jeff Hellis,
Sarah Standard on violin & drummer Ben Bridwell; having
emigrated from Tucson AZ to Seattle with dreams of wistful
contemplation (note somber tones + musical shades of grey)
and a not-to-be-outdone riffing that adds a nice low-end punch
to the material. Picks???.???Brooke Daniel???s Tiny Broken Fingers???
???I did not think those screams were for real???.??? Opening with a
woeful violin line, it arrives finally with a medical solution???.the
haunted ???The Color That Your Eyes Changed??? is a sad, blurred
waltz of elegant harmony & displacement???..???Blessed Arms That
Hold You Tight??? is Ghetto???s finest moment???.??????it???s all long good-
byes???..??? sung with such an ephemeral nondeliberation of beauty
that it becomes clear why the band scribbled out their lyrics in the
accompanying booklet???.no point in overstating the obvious.
MITCH July 2002
First release in 3 years is an on-air WBRS live recording
rom???3 years ago. Apparently under the influence of
a bong-fed Middle Eastern mood of trance throughout
this set, Boston???s CUL DE SAC contemplate a barbiturate
Buddhism in cramped quarters, extending most of these
tracks with a sort of water-from-the-moon indolence and
improv/hypno groove purely their own. Leader Glenn
Jones raises a lantern of color, texture whilst pondering
some kind of spiritual unknown washed in hues of pre-
monition so inward as to barely register as fretwork.
Heady with percussive pulse, iridescent like the night
bloom of flowers, liquid with grace and shrouded in a
dark mystery of implied electronics & obtuse trajectory.
Unerringly strange, most of these tracks are otherwise
unavailable as studio/alternate versions and add to the
canon of this unique instrumental outfit, afloat on the
most uncharted of waters. Fine form in spades.
MITCH June 2002
I think this album gave me rabies. Froth rock, that takes its time sauntering through 9 sonic circles of a torturous hell. Enjoying every step. Led by a crazed and defrocked priest (Eugene Robinson) who sings-ah with salacious-ah certainty-ah. Ahhhhhhh! Backed by the yelp and mutter of a chorus. Thick like U.S. Maple, charged like This Heat but enough guitar swaggery to engorge your ears. You cannot buy this potent sludge on the open market, so bathe in it here. In the shadows. Apocalyptic aphrodesiac. A dark champion of a release. Enjoy the smack of success. -Thurston Hunger
Mike Guarino (drums/guitar) and Jake Rodriguez (bass/
synth/vocals) have been playing together since 1995
(TOPPLE, LIVESTOCK, etc.) but it is as COMPOMICRO
DEXALL that grindcore/free jazz/punk/noise/experimental
converge in earsplitting dislocation for this free-mad duo.
Help from Jeremy Stone (synth) and Moe! Staiano (guitar)
supplements a thick, driving assault where prearranged
riffs burst with precision, flurries are predetermined and
blasts of noise occur with a megaton random & rumble.
Rodriguez (who also records as processed voice/electronics
DSP warrior THE BRAN as a solo project) has designed
sounds for Bay Area theater & was impressario for the
Clit Stop in SF; says of Guarino, ???We???ve been playing
together so long, it???s really all improv???. At times a trio in
the past (with Chris Broderick adding voice & clarinet),
CD is collage/avant/loud/chaos/meteor shower whence
pleasure is sired through pain. Sound familiar?
MITCH May 2002
Bristol septet, brash swaggery pop. Uplift mofo
horns party! And the horns are a quite sprite
French Horn (Daniel Cornfield) and Cornet (Aaron
Dewey). Sassy male/female vocals. Jenny Robinson
is the breathy, semi-sultry syllable stretcher
while Aaron Dewey is the “Speaker’s Corner” more
excitable ranter!! *Two* drummers in this…so
their sound has plenty o punch. Part of the UK’s
‘Pull the Strings’ collective. Horns kinda add
a Doc Severinsen dosed at the horse races amped
up vibe here that makes this pretty irresitable.
#11 is fancy phone freakout that tracks into the
closer. #9 is the slow dance. Right honorable
and simply smashing! -The Viceroy of Vice
Well-constructed dilapidation. Gravel in the
gullet vox of Jay Munly (from Slim Cessna’s
Auto Club). Ballads with ballast, a weight
that is lifted by a shoestring quartet (that
being Tarantella cloaked in shadow and soot).
Munly’s voice rises with an angsty twinge of
twang almost gets to a Gene Loves Jezebel
screech at odd moments. Songs of heresy and
fallen heroes, of people like Gerry Cooney
and Weegee, that Powers of Celebrity try to
pretend never supped at the popular table.
Like a barn in Faulkner story… every song
is ready to catch fire. Slow fuses throughout,
rocking chair rhythms. Has the acrid flavor
of moonshine with plenty of kick that catches
up to you long after you have imbibed the
lyrics. Perfect for that Belladonna/Joe Ed
team show! Gothic chamber country rides on….
Slap a retro-EARGASM sticker on this nugget. The
best new wave album to come down the pike in some
time. The panicky lead singer (Todd Baechle), the
sense of detachment, the air raid “subtlety” of
synthesizer, the little machine gun guitar rounds,
unabashed drum machines w/ their insistent slap
of digital ass. This supernovas on the promise of
their early (and excellent) 7″ split “Brokers,
Priests, Analysts” I am an unfair judge because
right now I’m 100% infatuated with this. “Control”
(about orchestral conductors in the dark) is a
massive masterpiece. Killer treated vox thoughout,
add some cello for the ultimate in pop. Omaha,
where infection meets confection.
A simple sampled tramp’s prayer song unravels to reveal an amazingly rich orchestral life. Casual listening will miss the gradual momentous emotional shifts. This is actually a recreation/re-issue of the original sparked by fan and guest vocalist on the epilogue – Tom Waits. An excellent library add, excerpted overplay wouldn’t do this justic, invoke occasionally for lengthy stare-at-the-ceiling existential crises or fill an absent Public Affairs slot with this gorgeous listener epiphany generator.
-Thurston Hunger 7/13 1997
12345 S. El Monte Road Los Altos Hills, California 94022
Public Inspection File