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Uproarious mix-up of Molam pop, Thai acid-rock, Javanese dangdut, default TwoTone and Cambodian instro-drama from the Oakland CA seven-piece including Sublime Frequencies’ Mark Gerghis (with Alan Bishop guesting).
Charged garage-rock from Vancouver, BC, Canada, 1970. Championed by the innumerate Enjoy The Experience: ‘Amongst my favorites, the sincerity and verve in the performances remain fresh to the ear and heart thirty years later.’
At the harmonium; bleak and utterly captivating. Terrific arrangements by John Cale.
A stone-cold classic.
Bringing together two EPs of hushed, late-night atmospherics.
Intense, dreamlike songs influenced by folk and minimalism, and informed by feminism, ecology and posthuman communication, deploying magnetic tapes, field recordings, and bits from the speech of contemporary thinkers, besides harmonium, organ, violin and cello, toy and electric guitar, and a small choir.
Half-price this weekend.
Her third Columbia, from 1970.
With Muscle Shoals crew on side one — Roger Hawkins, Eddie Hinton, Barry Beckett and co — and a lineup convening the Armenian oud-plyer Ashod Garabedian, Duane Allman and Alice Coltrane, on side two.
‘I love my country as it dies in war and pain before my eyes. I walk the streets where disrespect has been. The sins of politics, the politics of sin, the heartlessness that darkens my soul… on Christmas.’
Two spellbinding extended improvisations referring to meteorological and planetary phenomena: evocations of light, wind, clouds, and tidal cycles as shimmering, roaring, rubbing, coalescing and diverging environments of sound; consistent and yet in perpetual flux. The quartet’s signature, singular, honed minimalism subsumes flashes of chaos into winding paths of musical detail; hushed but suspenseful.
Quietly ravishing, stunning music from Norway, by trumpeter Torstein Lavik Larsen, double bassist Adrian Fiskum Myhr, guitarist Fredrik Rasten, and drummer Jan Martin Gismervik.
Gorgeously presented, in a tiny run.
Warmly recommended.
Something else.
‘Boomerangs back into the slashing chords and frenzied double-picking of the Harry Pussy years, tossing the gentler melodic glow of the last few solo records into the dustbin. In other words, this may be Orcutt’s most overtly punk-rockist record since Gerty Loves Pussy, his first solo electric LP from a decade ago. It’s an affirmation that Orcutt is above all a lead player—angular runs scaling the heavens, ricocheting back to ground zero before climbing again. Orcutt builds tension with short phrases, repeated with slight variability until it seems like they’ll never stop, finally slamming into a fresh line like the dawning valley at the crest of the mountain pass. Another Perfect Day is, ultimately, something of a solo guitar Nouveau Roman, an exhilarating run through melodic reiteration, impossible crescendos (check out those ecstatic crowd hoots on For the Drainers) breaking into—a moment rarely found on an Orcutt record—soft, whisper-quiet tracer notes at the end of A Natural Death. Another Perfect Day returns Orcutt to the immediacy of his earliest records while maintaining the melodic complexity, phrasing, and flow of a player, who’s been going, what—four-plus decades now? And when he taps his roots, it’s a reminder of exactly what was so exciting about Orcutt’s playing in the first place.’