The Black Watch – The Gospel According to John

Reviewed by Todd Leiter-Weintraub (Hop On Pop)

For more than 30 years, The Black Watch have been flying under the radar of even the mainstream indie community, quietly releasing album after album of accomplished guitar-based indie rock. They’ve developed a dedicated cult following of people who seem to only share their music with the folks who they believe will love the band as much as they do.

But The Black Watch don’t want to be a secret, and The Black Watch shouldn’t be a secret; they should be a band that is just as well-known and just as beloved as any of their more-celebrated jangle pop cohorts. Their 15 th album, “The Gospel According to John” is another brilliant collection of impeccable indie rock that should, hopefully, gain them a wider audience.

While it’s not an offering that makes any radical changes to their well-established, jangling, vaguely psychedelic pop sound, there has been one noticeable tweak: the increased—and more-aggressive—presence of the guitars. There are simply more of them, and they are more immediately demanding of your attention.

Much of this change can be attributed to new guitar player Andy Creighton (The World Record), whose layers of effects-washed guitars carry echoes of Ira Kaplan’s (Yo La Tengo) affecting, slightly-off key moaning. It’s a sound that takes up a lot of space in the mix, but still provides a fine compliment to songwriter/bandleader John Frederick ‘s melodies and faux-British- accented vocals.

A perfect example is in album opener “Whence”, which kicks off with a wall of guitars so forceful that it pinned me to the wall before quickly dropping down to something a little more gentle. But, even after the dynamic shift, there remained layers: guitars chiming on the top of the mix, on equal footing with the vocals, leaving another layer of fuzz floating, menacingly, below the surface.

“Way Strange World” follows in much the same manner, with the guitars simultaneously playing off of both the vocal line and the rhythm section. The influence of the great NYC band Television is another obvious point of reference.

There is not much change in mood or sound throughout the album, but that’s okay. The band sets an immersive tone and carries the listener along on a wave of sound for 37 minutes of bliss, before dropping them off at the end of the line, with the chiming, propulsive “Satellite”.

It’s the same band, that you have (or should have) known since the 80s, but this time their terrific songs are colored with wider sonic palate and more adventurous harmonic constructions than ever before. Think not just of Yo La Tengo, but also of Eleventh Dream Day, and other post-rock- type outfits of the 1990s. It’s a lot to take in, but there is something new to hear every time you put the record on. So, my recommendation is to put this one on often.

And then go back and discover the 14 more great albums that The Black Watch has put out since the 1980s.

And now you’re in on the secret, too!

King Black Acid - Twin Flames

Reviewed by Nathan Ford

Daniel Riddle's King Black Acid are one of Portland's longest running psychedelic collectives. My knowledge of their output is limited and doesn't reach beyond their exploratory mid nineties output, so this new three track EP is a major surprise to me. Granted, twenty plus years have passed, but gone is the free-form space-rock of the likes of "The Wombstar Session" or the Frippian guitar textures of "Royal Subjects", replaced with carefully structured and intricate songcraft. This evolution will presumably come as less of a surprise to those who've been keeping tabs on a more regular basis than myself, but I trust they'll be just as impressed as I am by the contents of "Twin Lights".

This is a richly textured, lush production with meticulously crafted songs which suggest the direction My Morning Jacket might have taken had they embraced Pink Floyd in place of Prince. I doubt this is what Gram Parsons had in mind when he coined the term cosmic American music, but the cap certainly fits here.

Unusually in the current musical climate, nothing is in a rush here and these three lengthy tracks would be in danger of meandering in lesser hands, but here their unhurried pace is a virtue, creating a hypnotic tapestry that I found irresistable. The production deserves a mention too - it's almost as much of a star here as Riddle's songs. Check out the intro to "Headful of You" for a masterclass in slow-motion, free-falling lusciousness. And the chorus positively soars - great song.

The title track continues in this vein, adding a bit of a "Cold Roses" era Ryan Adams and the Cardinals vibe to it. This creates an intriguing dichotomy between the Earthbound and the ethereal which should collapse in on itself in the messiest of fashions, but maintains its balance perfectly.

Lovely stuff.

You can hear the title track below. CD and digital available here.

Dulls - Moon Violet

Reviewed by Joseph Murphy.

On last year’s self-titled debut (reviewed here), Philadelphia’s Dulls took a lighter touch to both their shoegaze and alternative-era leanings; they preferred, it seemed, to let space between voicings develop the theme throughout. But on this year’s Moon Violet, the band puts guitar-centered hooks at the forefront, channeling their grittier predecessors of the DIY genres – even with standout-track, “New Dream,” which, in other hands, might be a slow-burner but builds, here, to a dense pay off in the chorus that’s deserving of an angry sing-along. Moon Violet is another promising step for Dulls, exploring similar terrain as their debut while taking a few risks along the way – perhaps, in part, thanks to recording and mixing by John Ceparano of The Stargazer Lilies, whose own albums value similar balances between lush passages and the very human slide of the fingers across guitar strings.

The opening track, “View,” feels familiar from the start: a single guitar, lightly reverbed though heavily strummed through the progression. The result – when the whole band comes in – refuses to crowd the song with pummel and force, rather Dulls extends the simplicity, whether through a few accent leads or a tight rhythm; further still, when the layers drop away for the verse, the space left behind still hums with strength of the intro. This serves as the model for Dulls: lean all the way in and pull back to give perfect contrast.

Both releases from Dulls have been short, but, in so few songs, the band has proven their careful consideration, curating each release to their format (in both cases, cassette) and their ideal listeners, ones looking for mature reflections of legendary acts that still resonate – and maybe more so now – and conversations with those long-standing musical heroes. Perhaps four songs is the perfect tactile experience for listening, creating a balance and natural split. This level of consideration is somehow imbued in both releases; both feel meticulously plotted while still embracing the nuances of each musician’s contributions.

“Moon Violet” is available digitally or on limited-edition cassette below. This one just gets better with every listen. So, let it play through again; any good tape deck will do.

Highly recommended.

David Colohan - A Melbourne Nocturne

Reviewed by Grey Malkin (The Hare & The Moon)

David Colohan continues his steady creative flow with ‘A Melbourne Nocturne’, a delicate yet quietly epic piece of work that contains echoes of his previous releases with Raising Holy Sparks, United Bible Studies and Look To The North whilst also staking out new ground and travelling into territory uniquely his own. Available originally as a limited cassette from PSI Lab (now sold out) this release can now be fortunately be found on Colohan’s Bandcamp site and a good thing too; to miss out on something this exploratory, immersive and affecting would be a genuine loss. Recorded between Melbourne, Ballymahon & Southampton, Colohan describes the birth and cultimation of the piece as ‘(coming) to light amongst the moongazing crowd that had gathered outside Labour In Vain on Melbourne's Brunswick Street during the lunar eclipse of July 16th, 2000, before finally manifesting itself on the Summer Solstice of June 20th, 2016’. Indeed there are several themes and motifs that run through the collected pieces on this album that speak of something lunar, celestial and perhaps also the tension between gazing at the sky whilst being tethered and earthbound.

'A Melbourne Dreaming' opens the album with a reverberated choir of voices, a stillness and a sense of the sacred that is both arresting and deeply beautiful. This slowly fades into 'Yarra Yarra, River of Mists', a spoken word piece recounting the (psycho)geography of the land framed with atmospheric bursts of Matt Leivers' soprano saxophone and Colohan's drifting, analogue synth. There are elements of Tangerine Dream's 'Phaedra' here, Popol Vuh's 'Aguirre' and Terry Riley's 'A Rainbow Curved In Air'; a cosmiche and intuitive landscape of sound conjured through echoed vocals and vintage electronics. The choral element returns for 'A Circle Of Chalk Surrounds The City', a hum and murmur of voices surrounding the yearning, keening vocal creating a sense of vastness and ancient leylines imbued in the dry earth. Next, 'Moonrise Over Mount Burnett' paints a vivid image of the heat and the haze in the antipodean dusk, swells of synth and drifting saxophone suggestive of the twilit colours and humid air. 'Moon Fades Over Fitzroy' is a polyphony of voices, a psalm to the living, breathing continent whilst 'Fiona Paints The Starlight Dark' is a gorgeous, night sky symphony of melancholy strings, a lament to a memory long gone. A bell signals 'The Last Tram Home' as both organ and modular synth pulse and rattle their way forward, narrating the night-time journey. Peals of saxophone add to the emerging cityscape as the circling electronics suggest motion and travel. 'Shell Middens, Scarred Trees, Fish Traps, Mounds And Quarries' follows, a communal mass of choral parts combining to create something at once both celestial and deeply human, a sense of stretching out for the stars. Exquisitely beautiful, there are hints of Lisa Gerrard to be found here as well as perhaps Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares. 'A Circle Of Stars Surrounds St Kilda' swirls in to view on banks of quiet wind and waves of electronica, a gentle sadness pervading. Likewise 'The Fire, Where We Once Lived' breaths an air of solemnity, voices wordlessly calling out into the darkness, pained at times, rapturous at others. Colohan is an expert story teller through sound, this is effectively an instrumental album and yet it feels as if the listener knows exactly the images he is intending to illustrate and the precise mood of the tales he tells. 'Fionnuala Dreams The Desert Closer' buzzes into life, its modular harmonies, swells and rises pulled as much from deep within Colohan's memories and psyche as from his keyboards. Truly affecting, this is music for late at night; the liminal times. The album closes with 'Towards The Southern Aurora', a delicate and breathtaking vocal piece that both haunts and enraptures, speaking to the ghosts of the surrounding landscape. It is a fittingly atmospheric piece to conclude these travels (and there is a sense of having journeyed, this being a record of Colohan's impressions of Australia and the lasting memories impressed upon him by the land).Additionally, should an alternative soundtrack to the heat stricken, strange dreamscape of 'Picnic At Hanging Rock' ever be required, this is it.

‘A Melbourne Nocturne’ then is an album which dares to reach its hand out to the night sky and to feel the awe and dread that this act involves. It also recognises and contains the beauty, transcendence and despair that comes with acknowledging the vastness of the universe around us and translates this into some of the most affecting music you will hear. Seek this recording out; turn your eyes to the sky.