Circulatory System "Mosaics Within Mosaics"

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk)

I always forget that Circulatory System is the project of Will Hart. I also forget how much I miss Olivia Tremor Control and the other Elephant 6 offshoots until I press plunge and am submerged in Hart's world of dreamy, orchestral, slack- key grandeur.

Post-modernism has never had its true anthem. The closest corollary would be Alice's adventures in Wonderland and through the looking glass, and even that is at a distance as Alice was a representative from the Victorian age dealing with the chaos and confusion with proper etiquette and rote learning. She was never totally IN it.

Will Hart, along with a bunch of other E6 alum have composed a proper soundtrack to many of the 20th centuries hardest lessons. There's uncertainty ("You might never know why" from "The Reasons Before You Knew"), relativity ("It's funny how long it's been, for the young rocks on the shore", from "Aerial View of a Heart (From Above)", linguistics (the double entendre wordplay of "When You're Small"), sub-atomics and hermetic philosophy, "Stars And Molecules"), existentialism ("Does it feel like a dream/you'll never wake up from", also from "The Reasons...."), and transcendentalism ("When you open up your mind, will it open other windows", also from "Stars And Molecules").

While these may be difficult concepts, "Mosaics Within Mosaics" is not difficult listening. It's quite the opposite in fact. Most of "Mosaics Within Mosaics" is gentle, swaying, shambolic psychedelic pop that wouldn't sound out of place on a Stephen Malkmus or Steely Dan record, not to mention the classics like The Beatles or the E6 canon. The closest comparison is Will Hart's own "Dusk At Cubist Castle" with Olivia Tremor Control, as "Mosaics..." follows a similar pattern of glorious, catchy pop tunes arising from a surreal bricolage of concrete cut-up collage, here in the form of "Mosaic #?", 8 in all, making the tunes seem like atomized fragments of half-recalled memories, arising from the confusion of the subconscious, from the ether of the id. This can best be seen on "Open Up Your Lives", whose chiming chords and questioning lyrics arise from a bramble of crackles and refrigerator drones, and returns to a sound sculpture of infinite squeeze boxes played by disembodied hands.

While these tunes may be poppy and infectious, they are still weird as sin as can be seen on "Over Dinner A Cardinal Spoke" which sounds like a klezmer wedding band's take on The Grateful Dead's "Eyes Of The World". It reminds me of Yo La Tengo's video for "Tom Courtnay", which features Ira Kaplan playing clarinet in the bathroom stall of a rock 'n roll camp like some high school stoner, only to be busted by an Ace Frehley look-alike. We all know this is the true rock 'n roll; doing what you want, being true to thine own self, giving music a much longer shelf life than the mock pyrotechnics of the arena warriors which too quickly passes from true epics to flabby pretense.

"Mosaics Within Mosaics" is a true achievement for a number of reasons. The most publicized would be the contributions of other Elephant 6 allies Derek Almstead (Faster Circuits), John Fernandes (Olivia Tremor Control), Heather McIntosh (The Instruments), AJ Griffin (Laminated Cat), Peter Erchick (The Olivia Tremor Control, Pipes You See, Pipes You Don't), and most notably the first ferric appearance of Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeff Mangum since 2009 (and that was only a single song for a contribution) along with fellow NMHer Jeremy Barnes, who also plays in A Hawk Or A Hacksaw.

This record is not reliant on cameos to be a stunning success or achievement however. "Mosaics Within Mosaics" is the first Circulatory System since 2009, and Will Hart has been battling with Multiple Sclerosis in the meantime which can make tying your shoes difficult, let alone composing a brilliant, timeless psychedelic travelogue. We are all the better, for Hart's perseverance. "Mosaics Within Mosaics" asks more questions than it offers answers. It reflects the cloud of confusion of living in a world with seven billion perspectives (not to mention the other living organisms on earth) with immediate access to people and places all over the globe and sometimes, the galaxy. It begins to be difficult to speak objectively, authoritatively. You can only speak for yourself, for your own experience. And not even then, as who knows completely what influences and effects us. If cosmic horror like H. P. Lovecraft or Thomas Ligotti describes the terror of this dissolution, Circulatory System is the sound of embracing freefall. How I Learned To Stop Worrying, and Love The Moment.

"Mosaics Within Mosaics" is the kind of record that makes you sad when the review is over, as I no longer have reason to obsessively listen over and over, looking for clues and latch keys in the lyrics, speculating on choices of instrument and structure. It's a coded puzzle, a matrix of songs, which yields more strange, beautious organisms with each successive listen. A true and faithful relation of the disintegration of the persistence of memory.

Available here on vinyl, and here on CD.

The Fresh & Onlys "House of Spirits"

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk)

The Fresh & Onlys are a San Fransisco band, rooted equally in Buffalo Springfield and Big Brother & The Holding Company, as well as the fuzz scuzz garage pop of the 2000s; the many, myriad John Dwyer projects and Ty Segall, for instance. While many San Francisco musicians confine themselves to reliving that hilly city's heyday, forever remaining in a static 1967, The Fresh & Onlys are expanding, looking outward, browsing through time.

To receive the essence of "House Of Spirits", frontman Tim Cohen actually had to leave that misty city on a hill, to relocate to an isolated horse ranch in Arizona, cheap synths, drum machines and a battered guitar in tow. It was in this spacious desolation the skeletons were created, and "House Of Spirits" is a dreamtime half-life simulacra, in this house, in the middle of nowhere. In this house, there's a cauldron of hearts on the stove, and someone is always watching.

I was mainly familiar with The Fresh & Onlys as a reverbed garage pop outfit, and as retroactive psychedelic warriors, via Tim Cohen's Magic Tricks solo project, so to say seeing "House Of Spirits" compared to The Cure's enigmatic "Faith" in the press was surprising is an understatement. Further reading yielded references as diverse as Ennio Morricone, The Smiths, The Shins, and Einsturzende Neubauten. I was intrigued.

"House Of Spirits" starts off with the desert vibes conceived at the horse ranch, and then drags them back to San Fran, to adorn and twine them with haze and sculpted fog. This embellishment strikes right at the heart of who The Fresh & Onlys are, and what makes them so special.

Like I mentioned, a lot of psychedelic musicians are stuck in 1967. Rather than trying to create authentic anachronisms, TF&O are more inspired by five decades of close lysergic listening. There's plenty of guitar rave-ups and country waltzes, that sound right at home with the school of '67, but you can also hear traces of Steely Dan's studio sheen, like on the track "April Fools". Clean, ringing guitar arpeggios recall artful psychedelic post-punk, like The Cure, or the underappreciated Felt.

Rather than trying to slot into some neat category or niche, The Fresh & Onlys draw upon decades of lysergic listening to create something personal, something unique . To create an environment, a world of their own, using whatever tools are at their disposal. And if you were to view the original psychedelic school as painting in a pallet of avocado and day-glo, House Of Spirits is drawn in lavender and spring green and penwashed greys; like a Japanese ink drawing of a city clinging to the edge of a cliff.

With exquisite taste and songwriting instincts, House Of Spirits addresses the weaknesses of some of the genres they draw upon. It's more passionate and exciting than a lot of post-punk. It's rootsier and more personal than shoegaze. It's more forward thinking than a lot of psych rock, bringing in some of the tools of the '80s. The Fresh & Onlys, with "House Of Spirits", have created a slab of Nuggets psych rock for the blankgaze generation. It's The Byrds, adorned with triangles and inverted crosses. It's a ghost-train through an empty house, thick with dust, the air thick with voices. It's the desert, swaddled in mist and vines. It's the past, brought into the present, giving way to the future.

The future looks bright for The Fresh & Onlys, and for lo-fi scuzz garage pop. Not choking down the ashes of the past. Not being crushed under the stones of weighty influence. Instead, a living organism; a house, a world unto itself. "House Of Spirits" is a haunted dwelling you could lose yourself in for days, weeks, months. A proper record artifact - gatefold sleeve as gateway portal. The Fresh & Onlys haven't released a bad one yet, and if you haven't been paying attention, you really should.

"House Of Spirits" is available here on vinyl, CD, and digital formats.

Withered Hand "New Gods"

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk)

"New Gods" exists at a T-way intersection of first wave, roots-inflected classic rock and the next wave of roots-influenced indie music. It's like a spectral ballroom, with Shakey lazily strumming, the Boss on lead vocals; John & Paul provide some harmonies. James Mercer sits in; Julian Casablanca drops by, strikes a pose. The ghost of Gram Parsons is spotted in the catwalks, and Conor Oberst gives chase.

Yes, you have heard something like "New Gods" before. Vitriol has rained down like napalm upon modern musicians, saying there's nothing new to be said. That as a generation, we are doomed to endlessly recycle and rehash. That we'll never be as good as their generation.

This idea raises some interesting thoughts on music history, about the role that music plays in society, and the myth of progress. There seems to be a thought that music is only valid if it's completely original, emerging from the VOID. That it's not valid to be in love with your record collection. All of this suggests music as a commodity, to be hawked out of the back of a truck. Gotta have the newest, flashiest thing!

This idea is relatively new in human history. Classically, it was more important to master a craft than to take credit. Master potters and rug weavers wouldn't even sign their work.

If you're a musician, you will grab whatever you can get your fingers into, whether that's the sound of a babbling brook or your Dad's record collection. Ultimately, as a generation, we've got to contend with our influences.

Withered Hand is basically wrestling with the same problem as every musician ever; how to organize notes, chords, rhythms, instruments, words and voice, to express themselves. And yes, Withered Hand does sound like other things. There are moments, listening to New Gods, when I was reminded of The Strokes, Death Cab For Cutie, The Shins, Sufjan Stevens, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, even Mount Eerie. "Love Over Desire" is a dead-ringer for country- era Bright Eyes, before seamlessly sliding into The Beatles, which then becomes Led Zeppelin. This seems to be done knowingly, as nearly half of the songs on this record have explicit quotes from classic songs, the "Love Love Love" medley in "Love Over Desire", "The Gilded Palace Of Sin" lyric from "King Of Hollywood", a reference to The Flying Burrito Brothers, "White Light/White Heat," from the song "California," to the Velvet Underground, played with Neil Young's lazy junkie strum.

Dan Willson is clearly in love with his father's record collection. And while the most recent generation of classic music lovers choose to bury their adoration in layers of noise, hiss, grit and reverb - whether that's the gooey-cassette disco of Arial Pink or My Morning Jacket's elegant, elegiac southern rock, or The Jesus And Mary Chain's burned ephedrine greaser snarl, Withered Hand has played it straight and clean, lushly layering acoustic + electric guitars, mandolins, organs and gorgeous background vocals to make a truly classic record.

I have heard it said that collage is the most honest form of 20th century art. Dan Willson is clearly a master collagist, moving and re-arranging ephemera and bric- a-brac to make something wholly unique and personal.

Like any master of form, the true heart lies in the embellishments. A work of art may be inspired by another, but it is always its own thing, inhabiting its own world. The nuances really shine through in the lyrics on "New Gods", with love songs to his guitar ("Love Over Desire"), junkie lamentations ("California", "Life Of Doubt"), tarot cards and paradigm shifts; New Gods and faded beauty queens.

When you peel back the layers, and "New Gods" exists in its own universe, is when there's that sky-cracking moment, when your heart bursts like a newborn phoenix, like a setting sun, like the moment when Willson's voice cracks like a rusted hinge on "Life Of Doubt", or when the crystalline choir emerges on "New Gods". For the Angel is in the details, and you've never set foot in THIS river before.

Almost every song on New Gods is in a different style, but mostly sticks to a laid- back country groove, except for the choppy piano charge of "Heart Heart", which is the only song I'll forgive shoutalong gang vocals, as I love the rest of the record. For lovers of roots-infused classic rock, new and old, all hail the new thing!

Available on vinyl, or CD.

Swervedriver "Deep Wound" Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk)

In the Creation Records documentary "Upside Down", someone said "the only shoes they were gazing at were the ones flying past their faces" about Swervedriver.
Swervedriver are the best and clearest example of the wide variety of psychedelic guitar rock emerging in the late '80s and early '90s, which could range from blistering walls of blissed-out noise, to narcoleptic, opiated drone and all points in between - often within the same band, sometimes within the same song.
"Deep Wound", b/w "Dub Wound" is the first new studio output from Swervedriver in 14 years and should reinstate them as the capstone of the heavy psychedelia pyramid. It's built around a descending guitar riff, nearly spot on identical with The Beatles "And your bird can sing," and it occupies a similar powerpop terrain to that song too, if it were to have been recorded in the fog, and then xeroxed.
Swervedriver love hooky, chorusy psychedelic music, recorded through a coliseum of amplifiers, making textural, stylized rock 'n roll. "Deep Wound" is a rager which comes out swinging and never lets up (they were always a pedal to the metal band). It's great to hear them in full-tilt; I greatly adore the spaciousness and moodiness of some of Adam Franklin's delicate solo material like "Toshack Highway", but the man can rock like none other. It's amazing to hear him backed by one of the most pummeling rhythm sections, able to really PUSH IT, to get intense while still blowin' cool.
"Deep Wound" has been around for a while. They played it on Jimmy Fallon in 2012, and are just now releasing it to coincide with a tour in Australia, and a pledge of things to come. Swervedriver are said to be releasing a new album in 2014. It's not precisely a reunion. They've been playing together again since 2008, and Adam Franklin has been intensely prolific since Swervedriver broke up in 1999, with solo material and the Bolts Of Melody. It's more like four people who enjoy each others company, and make good music together. They have a chemistry. People are starting to catch on.
The B-Side "Dub Wound" finds Ride's Mark Gardner (who sings backup on the A-Side) playing The Mad Professor, delivering a weightless, krautrock dub version of the single. It's a really interesting remix; Gardner replaces the driving drums of the original with a motorik machine beat and a simple, pulsing bassline, like tires on a rough asphalt road. He strips the song down to an outline of Adam Franklin's ringing guitar, filling the headspace with stereo effects and panning, against a crystalline backdrop of backwards organ. It sounds like it's floating in the milky way.
One of the main advantages of living in such an information-rich society is we're being given a chance to correct history, to go back and re-appreciate and scour and research. The pop historians, the moldering archivists, the half-mad crate diggers are all doing tremendous work of late, and a good portion of the most interesting new music releases are re-issues and compilations. We can live like those performance artist twins from New York, who chose to live like it was 1900. We can pick whatever era we like and adorn and festoon ourselves with ephemera and authenticity. We are also able to sift out the best stuff and throw the trash away.
In some circumstances these artists are still alive and kicking and making wonderful music, and we get to hear new sounds from old favorite bands. 2013 was a red letter year for new shoegaze treasures: new MBV, new MEDICINE, new SWERVEDRIVER. It's like 1991 all over again only this time let's not get lazy and actually buy the records and go to the shows. It's an encouraging sign that this guitar-centric psychedelia is rearing it's head again as so much of what is in is being made electronically. There hasn't been that much new, interesting guitar music recently. It's important to be reminded of the frenzy of the dancefloor, the sweat, the communism, the high-blooded magick of flying guitar solos and head banging. I'll be a devotee of rock 'n roll for life, even when I'm only listening to rap mixtapes.
Swervedriver point out the limits of labeling and genrefication, which are often attached after the fact. They were way WAY heavier and grungier than most of their ilk but still possessed an air of English romance and pastoralism. There is a sense of the English countryside to their music. They come from Oxford, part of the Thames Valley that contained Reading and produced a significant amount of the most influential shoegaze. But they were also surprisingly American, for a foggy British band. It's all about driving - far and fast. I would credit Neu! "Neu!" as sharing the crowning spot of Best Driving Record Of All Time with Swervedriver's "Mezcalhead" (which i bought on cassette from a Greyhound Station in Washington, D.C.). With Lazerhawk's "Redline" serving as Archduke. It's like they put you in the driver's seat of some powerful machine with the pummeling guitars acting as piston engine, while Adam Franklin's misty vocals breeze by with ethereal electronics rushing by like constellations.
If I were to compare Swervedriver to one better known band for someone who has never heard them, it would be Dinosaur Jr. They have a similar blend of powerful, thick guitars, propulsive drumming and pop vocal harmonies. Their music manages to be both intensely heavy while staying ethereal and trippy- a cross between the Cocteau Twins and The Smashing Pumpkins. Shoegaze was psychedelic music for melancholic souls, for speedfreaks and acidheads, whitehot, dilate pupil rock 'n roll, shot through a vaseline-smeared lens. They draw an essential line between The Cure and The Grateful Dead, and for that I will forever be grateful.

"Deep Wound" is available here.

Active Listener Writers Share Their Favourite Albums of 2013

I published my favorite 50 albums of the year list here a few weeks back, and a few of my other writers have chimed in with their lists below. Lots of great stuff to be discovered here:

Grey Malkin:

1. The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories) – Steven Wilson

2. Messe I.X –V.I.X- Ulver

3. Malá Morská Víla Soundtrack - Zdenek Liska

4. Warrior At The Edge Of Time Remastered – Hawkwind

5. Morgiana/The Cremator Soundtrack - Zdenek Liska/ Luboš Fišer

6. Omega Original Soundtrack- Michael Begg/Human Greed

7. Spoicke – United Bible Studies

8. Witchfinder General Soundtrack - Paul Ferris

9. The Book of the Lost - The Rowan Amber Mill and Emily Jones

10. Aonaran –Richard Moult

Tom Sandford:

1. Ian Skelly – Cut From A Star 

2. Grant Hart – The Argument 

3. The Kingsbury Manx – Bronze Age 

4. Moby – Innocents 

5. Neils Children – Dimly Lit 

6. Pissed Jeans – Honeys 

7. Wire – Change Becomes Us 

8. My Bloody Valentine – mbv 

9. Queens of the Stone Age – Like Clockwork 

10. Paper Kites – States

Chris Sherman:

1. Svenska Kaputt - Svenska Kaputt

2. Wolf People - Fain

3. Me and My Kites - Like A Dream Back Then

4. Jacco Gardner - Cabinet of Curiosities

5. Kiki Pau - Pines

6. Mazzy Star - Seasons of Your Day

7. Elephant Stone - Elephant Stone

Jason Simpson:

1. Teeth of the Sea - Master

2. Factory Floor - Factory Floor

3. V.A. - The Outer Church compilation

4. Low - The Invisible Way

5. The Stranger - Watching Dead Empires In Decay

6. Emptyset - Recur

7. The Haxan Cloak - Excavations

8. I Am The Lake Of Fire - I Am The Lake Of Fire

9. The Soulless Party - Tales From The Black Meadow

10. Hacker Farm - UHF

Amanda Votta:

1. Mark Lanegan and Duke Garwood – Black Pudding 

2. Mazzy Star – Seasons of Your Day 

3. Stone Breath – Spear of Flame, Horse of Air 

4. Mick Harvey – Four (Acts of Love) 

5. Broadcast - Berberian Sound Studio 

6. Albatwitch – Only Dead Birds Sing Over the Graves of Forgotten Kings 

7. Mark Kozelek & Desertshore – Mark Kozelek & Desertshore 

8. Crime & The City Solution – American Twilight 

9. The Dirtbombs – Ooey Gooey Chewy Ka-Blooey! 

10. Beastmilk – Climax

Death & Vanilla "Vampyr" Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk)

Enter the town of Courtempierre, a silver nitrate village in the shadow of a crumbling manor. People are going missing, and you just remembered the wrapped paper parcel the stranger gave to you earlier. It had about the dimensions and heft of an old book. You might have to shed some blood before the night is through; some of it might be your own. You might be digging up graves before the dawn.
“Vampyr” is a live score for the 1932 German vampire film, directed by Carl Theodor Dryer. It’s the most recent release from Malmö, Sweden’s stereophonic electropop surrealists Death And Vanilla, released just before Halloween on the crackling tape label Moon Glyph. For the occasion, the usual duo bulked up to a five piece, to become a chorale of moogs and spooky organs, sneaky vibes, guitars, basses, and wind. Some of it was improvised, but it sure as hell seems tightly put together, weaving a narrative in the dark, casting you into the world of Vampyr.
Death & Vanilla are exquisite recreationists. They rehearsed for 5 weeks with the footage of the film, in preparation for this performance. The rehearsal made the band tight and in control, really getting a chance to set the mood, and let something special happen. They play like a real band together, like people who have written parts and memorized them. Like people that play in a room together once or twice a week. We loved their first record, and they just seem to be getting better all the time. For lovers of soundtracks, of ’60s pop and lounge and the idea of what the future used to be, get on board.
Every element is dipped in warm tube reverb that pets your ears, that soothes and sedates you, that lures you into the trance and lets the chronicles unfold in yr chilled brain. It’s the perfect antidote to the passive stimulation of visual entertainment. It lets you supply yr own visions, and actually exercises the imagination. I’ve never seen Vampyr (although i have to now), and I totally loved letting the music supply my imagery of snowy village courtyards, of graveyards and stealing through the night.
One thing you can say for hauntologists, they always have great keyboard sounds. It really casts a classic ‘Hammer-in-the-60s’ vibe, (even though this movie was made in ’32). It makes me think of vampires in cardboard crypts.
The moods on “Vampyr” range from ’70s baroque melancholic (pianos and flutes), to sneaky and mysterious (vibes and surf guitar), to ritualistic (thundering drums) to pitch black ambiance (wind). It’s a real journey, that places you inside the film. Or transforms your life into one.
Death & Vanilla stand for something. They believe in something. They love something; the past. Knowledge. They are scholars, and have exceptional taste. It is difficult to talk about Death & Vanilla without Stereolab or Broadcast being brought up. It’s not because this Swedish duo are overtly trying to sound like Trish Keenan or Laetitia Sadler, but because all of them share a love for ’60s and ’70s culture. For funky, quirky British movies and National Film Boards Of Canada information films. For all things blurry and kodachrome, for those bright red splashes of blood and the last days of dystopian black & whites.
There’s been a lot of acid from the post-punk cognoscenti over the retrofixation of this present generation, and I would like to counter. Because you can’t always Rip it up and start again. You’ve got to start from somewhere, and that somewhere is usually yourself. We all like things, and have interests, have our own particular vibes that give us gooseflesh. If one has a love of learning, and can still one’s self and find the eye of the hurricane, you can totally excel at your chosen craft, in this case, making bitching movie soundtracks.
Because the band took their time. Because they love what they are doing. They took the time to rehearse and write parts. They took the time to get to know one another as musicians. To find authentic (or authentic sounding) instruments and amps, and tune and upkeep those instruments. This is what I call MASTERY, and it’s one of the things I’m most interested in.
Because we have it all at our fingertips. We could make anything we want. We could make the most astounding artwork in history, every single day, and we are, and we should be. It’s also an antidote to the ‘Things Used To Be Better’ poison. Things used to be different. The main trade off, for me, these days, is I have every opportunity and resource, I’m pulled in a hundred directions, and my attention span is flayed to bloody ribbons.
That’s why we have to learn FOCUS. Let Death & Vanilla be an example of what could be done. Loving recreation, that makes new worlds, that sets people’s imagination on fire. O, and as a side benefit, this also transmits a love of these old things that you’ve been so inspired by, and the old forms do not die, but grow and evolve. In this way, we are keeping the past alive. ALIVE, as in the present. The past is alive, in the present, which is a far cry from it being dead in the dust, lost in yesterday.
In this same way, the future is still alive and well, and Death And Vanilla are pointing the way towards it.
Moon Glyph still has some copies (where you can also hear more samples), so you’d be advised to locate one and then go out and watch Vampyr.

Originally published at Forestpunk.

Stream a sample below (please hit refresh if Soundcloud embed does not appear).

"Fuzz" Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk)

Fuzz is the kind of band that makes you want to write their name in big loopy characters on your jeans. The kind of band that makes you want to take illicit substances and dig out your Blue Cheer records; to grow your hair long and possibly quit your job.
Fuzz is the scuzzed-out fuzz punk stoner trio of Charles Moothart (guitar), Roland Cosio (bass), and their best known member, Ty Segall, on the skins. This is not a case of frontman taking a break and having a laugh behind the kit, however. It turns out that Segall has played drums on quite a few releases, along his hyper prolific solo career, and he's quite an able-bodied drummer. Moothart is also a member of the Ty Segall Band, so the motives seem clear: these dudes are in it for the music. They want to write songs, and play shows, and rock out. Hard.
"Earthen Gate" starts off with some medieval Sabbath-ian minstrellry, before unleashing a pyrochasm of sludgy riffs, and the record hurtles along at this breakneck speed for most of it's length. It stops to catch it's breath for a moment with the slow plod of "What's In My Head", which features some surprisingly pretty vocal harmonies - worthy of the Fleet Foxes. It's back into the fray with "Hazemaze", though, with some shrieking worthy of legendary garage rockers The Sonics.
The whole raison d'être of this band seems centered around writing killer guitar hooks and bitchin' solos. This is no Steve Vai-wankfest, however. The beauty of the power trio is that there is ample room for every instrument to breathe and growl, and that they do. Cosio makes no bones about his love for Black Sabbath's bottom end, but he accomplishes a glorious bell-like mid-range Rickenbacker tone that just glows like cherry wood next to the gravel pile of Moothart's guitar. Ty Segall is a super tight and punchy drummer; lightning-strike fills seamlessly transform into slow grooves, blasts and ballads.
Fuzz deliver every note on their self-titled debut with a SNAP, like a dry branch in a tornado, or a leg in a hardcore pit. This is what separates a great rock 'n roll record from sloppy, slack-ass stoner imitators. Intensity. Every member of Fuzz goes for it. Every time. It'll make you want to drive fast, with the windows down. It'll make you want to play guitar.
A lot has been said from critics about the dangers of nostalgia, how our generation has nothing new to contribute. It's all downhill from here, doomed to endless degradation with decreasing fidelity, a copy of a copy of a copy. Fuzz don't care. Listening to Fuzz's debut will remind you of the uplifting power of the riff! That revelatory moment, when you first heard Sleep or High On Fire or Led Zeppelin's first record. Fuzz strips away the years of cynicism like a band-aid on a hairy knee, and yes, it might hurt a little bit, but you will bang your head.
A lot of criticism is also levelled at how much music Ty Segall puts out. If you haven't been keeping up, or are just now catching on, Fuzz is a mighty introduction to the canon. I can't wait to delve into the back catalog now, personally.

Buy the CD here or the vinyl here.

Happy Halloween - Our Writer's Picks For the Season

This year I pressured my writers into a particularly difficult task - to put together a playlist of just five of their favorite Halloween tunes each - I deliberately left this brief fairly open so that you'd see a number of different approaches and get to know our diverse little team a bit better.

Hope you enjoy what you hear.

GREY MALKIN

As chief architect of the often creepy The Hare & The Moon, the mysterious Grey Malkin is better qualified than most to approach this task.

1. The Rattles - The Witch.
Chilling and completely bonkers.
2. Christopher Komeda -Rosemary's Baby
It's impossible to think of this movie without the vocal part of Komeda's soundtrack coming to mind. An unsettling classic.
3. Steeleye Span - Long Lankin.
He lives in the moss. He's out there. Lock your windows!
4. Sunn O))) and Nurse With Wound - Ash On The Trees.
A musical partnership forged in Hell, Stapleton and O' Malley create the perfect aural nightmare. Hiding under the bed is no escape.
5. Faun Fables - Eyes Of A Bird.
Both witchy and beautiful, Faun Fables are the ideal Samhain soundtrack. Light those lanterns!


CHERYL THORNTON

"After coping with one too many student Halloween nights where the Ghostbusters theme tune gets played at least a dozen times, (it doesn’t matter how drunk I am, I know what you’re doing), I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing beats some delicious house-party Halloween debauchery. Budget decorations, homemade cocktails, but best of all - control over the music. Making playlists is fun at the best of times, but there’s something special about doing a Halloween one. At the risk of babbling on about the art of a good playlist, I’ll just say two things; one – it’s all about the atmosphere, and two – keeping this down to five tracks is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. Probably. Here’s my pick of what I would include. Stick these on while black and white episodes of the Twilight Zone play in the background and your make up begins to melt down your face.
Happy Halloween!"

1. The Attack – Strange House 
‘It was strange...in his house...’ Some killer 60’s UK psych to open it up. That bass.
2. Night Beats - A Night with Nefertiti 
Yes please. Some dark and dirty US garage to get things grooving.
3. White Noise -Love Without Sound 
Stumble to the punch bowl (was it always that colour?) and fill up a cup as lines about labyrinth eyes and perfumed electric gardens echo mysteriously out. The sound effects are already there (and you’re never too old for the convenience/surprise of a punch bowl).
4. Death in Vegas – Dirge 
Got to have some Death in Vegas on there. This one suits the evolving concept of my playlist pretty nicely – re-animated beings allowed to love again for one night...
5. Spider and the Flies – Autochrome 
I like my Halloween nights to be doused in B-movie vibes. Some Spider and the Flies (Tom Cowan and Rhys Webb from The Horrors) will do the trick. It’s all go from here...


AMANDA VOTTA

"Halloween is a lot of things to me. It’s a day to dress up, invert the standard, be something you both are and aren’t. It’s a time when things aren’t as they seem, when streetlights look more sinister, when the wind may carry whispers, when that thing you thought you saw out the corner of your eye really was there. It’s eerie and autumnal in that way that makes it feel like it’s a time out of time, something suspended between. That’s the essence of what it is; the carnivalesque, the liminal. It’s also, like the Mexican Day of the Dead to which it bears a resemblance, a day to remember those you’ve lost. I usually favor songs that remind me of these things—the absurd, the spooky, the departed. I’ve tried to include something of each here in my list."

1. The Jim Carroll Band – People Who Died 
As the title says, this is a song in which Jim recounts people he’s known who have died—“They were all my friends, and they died”—reminding you of everyone you’ve lost but being up-tempo enough that you don’t feel completely oppressed by the though.
2. Stone Breath – Flowers on Your Grave
I know of no better song about a ghostly friend than this, and no one better to sing such a song than Timothy. It, and Stone Breath encapsulate the eeriness of the day, the inbetween-ness, like no one else could.
3. Bauhaus – Dark Entries 
It isn’t Halloween without a little Bauhaus, who perfectly evoke that slightly sinister feeling of walking home from your Halloween party at some ungodly hour, feeling like you’re alone, but not alone.
4. Neko Case – Furnace Room Lullaby
This particular song reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” – of being haunted by a strange and terrible thing, being consumed by an obsession, becoming something you didn’t think you were or could be.
5. Mark Kozelek – Green Hell 
Mark’s cover of the Misfits song makes it sound both more absurd and more depressing than the original and so it unsettles and disturbs in a way—he means it, he’ll shake apart, but this hell is like any other, just kinda green.


JASON SIMPSON

As well as writing for us Jason has his own blog, "Forestpunk" which is full of this sort of stuff. Investigate.

1. Zombie Zombie - Halloween Theme - ft. Alan Howarth. 
Famed Carpentcore bring John Carpenter's eerie minimalist to rockist life, in this case performing with Carpenter's musical companion Alan Howarth. Get it started.
2. The Gate - (dialog) - The Old Gods!
In the tradition of classic horror mixtapes, here's a bit of movie dialog from 1987's "The Gate". Remember, The Old Gods are out there, in the darkness, just waiting for their chance to take back creation. Great movie.
3. Children Of The Stones Theme
I thought your party could use a bit of dark ambiance, so picked out the theme from hauntological staple "Children Of The Stones", full of atonal choirs, whispering winds. Evokes the feeling of an ancient stone circle on the moors.
4. Mater Suspiria Vision feat. Scout Klas -The Labyrinths of Venice
Can't have TOO much dark ambiance, so here's some excellent witch house from the head of Phantasma Disques. The video is taken from "Don't Look Now", a classic psychotropic British ghost story that is worth seeking out. Nice and grainy. Nice and bloody.
5. Sergei Rachmaninov - Isle of the Dead, Op. 29
Found this specially for this playlist, it's become a staple in my daily listening habits. Its a symphonic poem, based upon the painting by Arnold Böcklin, it's surreal and impressionistic, using orchestral themes to give the feeling of the spray of water, the smell of charcoal, and the whispers of dread. We all could use more classical music in our lives. It inspires us, and reminds us how it could be done.


THE ACTIVE LISTENER

It wouldn't be fair for me to dodge the bullet myself after putting the rest of my writer's to the task so here's my own contribution to finish things off.

1. Daniela Casa - Occultismo
The most ominous track from perhaps the creepiest library LP of all time, Daniela Casa's "Societa Malata"
2. Mr Fox - Mendle
At the creepiest end of the original U.K folk-rock spectrum lies this drone laden anthem from the Peggs.
3. Pram - The Owl Service
Inspired by Alan Garner's classic young adult's novel, Pram launch into a surprisingly funky early hauntological precursor which has proven hugely influential.
4. H.P Lovecraft - At The Mountains of Madness
One of two adaptations of Lovecraft short stories by this excellent U.S psychedelic folk-rock outfit - a personal favorite.
5. John Carpenter - The Fog
No Halloween is complete without Mr Carpenter's input, and while his score for "Halloween" remains the pinnacle of modern horror cinema, his slightly more understated work on "The Fog"is deserving of more attention also.

Cave "Threace" Cross Posted Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk) and originally published on the excellent website: FREQ (http://freq.org.uk)

Listening to Cave is a motorik clockwork trance. Visions of huge gleaming chrome puzzle pieces in the sky twist and churn like some angelic Mecha.
Cave are clearly obsessed with minimalist German psychedelic music from the seventies, as "Threace" is chock full of pulsing krautgrooves, but this time the band expand their bag of tricks to include other underground sounds of the decade. "Threace" veers between straight-up Can worship, to deep-fried seventies rock, to stone-cold fusion. There’s jazzenflute and blatting Ethiopiques saxophone, smooth Fender Rhodes riding on the storm. It sometimes gives the sensation of listening to two records at the same time, stitched together like some unholy Homunculus, or a cyberpunk Chimera materialized out of thin air. Cave blends all of these retrofixations with a technical precision that is distinctly modern. When the band Battles came out with their minimalist E.Ps in 2006, it seems like it really upped the game for stripped-down, repetitive music, and who knows if Battles would’ve happened without a couple of decades of listening to raw, brutalist techno. Let’s face it: we’ve been listening to and playing along with drum machines for fifty years, and musicians have been getting progressively more badass, especially after the krautrock boom made it acceptable to make endless, repeating grooves.
Cave are clearly ensnared by this beat, this groove.
Once you strip music down to its barest components - rhythm, you can build whatever you like, and place it as precisely as a set jewel. Cave starts off with the traditional boom-boom-CHK-boom of the motorgroove, but quickly dismantles it, turning it inside out, into a mind-melting tapestry of rolling African polyrhythms. It reminds me of what William Bennett said about his Cut Hands afronoise project, that listening to a dozen rhythms is like trying to count snowflakes in a blizzard. The mind is shocked and awed into silence; peace through sensory overload. Cave are clearly ensnared by this beat, this groove. It’s easy to understand why, it must be like driving a monorail, at full tilt, across the Salt Flats. It must be incredibly addictive. Sometimes it seems like this generation of musicians are all working on the same problem, coming at it from every angle. We are seeking every possible combination, every permutation. We are like safe-crackers, computer hackers. The beauty of this is that it breaks down artificial walls between genres and lets the musician think critically and creatively. Cave clearly love and understand every genre they reference on "Threace", and could introduce a whole new generation to the underground grooves of the seventies.
Very highly recommended.

Available here on CD, and here on Vinyl.

Mazzy Star "Seasons Of Your Day" Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson (Forestpunk).

Mazzy Star exist in a world of their own. It is a world of shadow & sunlight; precious stones and fireflies. Time stands still, here. It is peaceful. 
While time in Mazzy Star's village exists in suspended animation, much has changed in The Kingdom since their last record, 1996's "Among My Swan". Since then, their brand of slow-motion, reverb-laden rock has seeped into the collective unconscious, via trending young artists like Beach House, Widowspeak and Memoryhouse. Perhaps we are ready to listen closely and hear what they are REALLY whispering. 
While this new generation of indie babes has grown up listening to Mazzy Star, Hope Sandoval and David Roback have clearly grown up listening to classic records: soul, blues, country, rock 'n roll, and it has served them well. Pitchfork referred to Mazzy Star's music as "psych-tinged folk blues, Laurel Canyon glide, and Hope Sandoval's distinctive voice." Sonically, for all intents and purposes, "Seasons Of Your Day" is a straight up, folk-inflected blues rock record. Spartan guitar lines lock and weave; slide, acoustic and mildly overdriven tweed cabinet electric are accented with a slight touch of jazz-brushed percussion and walking country bass lines. It's so pure, and so close to the original, that it's like a moment suspended in amber, giving us the chance to separate the disparate elements and see them clearly, individually. 
The only thing that separates Mazzy Star from being a straight up Rockabilly tribute band is reverb and tempo. This must be the psych element, giving their music a stylized edge. It is interesting to place this next to the originals, and note the differences. The codeine crawl pace of their music gives it a nostalgic, romantic lamentation. Mazzy Star's psychedelia is dealing with time and memory. This is the sound of a lifetime loving records, hearing your parents play Gene Clark and Gram Parsons records through thin tenement walls as you drift off to sleep, listening to the sounds of their sedated party. Recording technology has only been around for about a hundred years and there have only been a couple of generations that have had a chance to grow up with records. They are ghosts caught on wax, portals to other times and places, escapes from your life in the doldrums. We are seeing the artistic and psychological implications of this new technology. 
In many ways, Mazzy Star's music is directly intertwined with recording technology; you simple would not hear it, otherwise. Sandoval and Roback are notoriously reticent to conduct interviews or play the industry game. Even their 17 year hiatus was not a planned career move or staged antic. There is no career to speak of. The pair played music frequently in that time, just didn't bother to put any of it out. 
That's how it is with musicians and creative types. They are always making things, hanging out and collaborating, and albums are an approximation, a simulacrum, of that real life. But it is not the real thing, which happens in living rooms and kitchens, huddled around hi-fis, or walking to the store to get smokes. Hope Sandoval sometimes doesn't even like her bandmates to be in the room with her when she is recording vocals. The condenser microphone, in this case, acts as magick wand and time capsule, giving you an intimate window into empty rooms and fading afternoons, that have faded into dust. 

Now that the world has gone slow-core, here's to hoping a whole new generation will find Mazzy Star's music, and discover the world of timeless sounds they revere. There are shades of Zeppelin in the rolling Kashmere chord progression of "California", and you can hear the echo of Son House's thunderous roar in the charging slide guitar of album closer "Lay Myself Down". 
"Seasons Of Your Day" has some auspicious guests grace it's eaves - dearly departed British folklorist Bert Jansch laid down some guitar on "Spoon", before his passing in 2011, and My Bloody Valentine drummer Colm O' Cloissog, whom Hope Sandoval has worked with in Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions, plays a number of instruments on a number of tracks. 
In a lot of ways, "Seasons Of Your Day" is superior to the classic slabs they imitate. Every track is beautifully recorded and mastered, smooth, warm and lush, never grating, never breaking the spell. It benefits from truly inspired and organic arrangements, that can come out of nowhere and blow your mind, like the sudden appearance of a string quartet on the title track, or the harpsichord on "Sparrow" (recorded on what sounds like a real harpsichord). Dale Everingham deserves a grammy for his engineering work on this one. 
"Seasons Of Your Day" is the best blues record you'll hear this year. And the best country record. And (one of the) best dream pop records. Massive kudos to the band, this has been dancing on the breeze in my living room for weeks, turning my home into a cryogenic roadhouse. I had forgotten how much I love this band, and it has reignited my love for their earlier records, as well as the classic recordings they represent. If you've not yet heard this band, climb on board - this is a fine way to find out. There are many lessons to learn, many miracles to witness.

Available on vinyl here, and CD here.

Plinth "Music For Smalls Lighthouse" Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson

One of instrumental music's greatest qualities is it's ability to induce cinematic flights of fancy, limited only by your imagination. "Music For Smalls Lighthouse" follows in the tradition of classic psychodramas with a strong sense of place like the "Shutter Island" soundtrack or Ingram Marshall's "Alacatraz", putting the listener inside a rachety old lighthouse in Wales, using a refined pallet of glowingly recorded classical instruments, synth textures, and field recordings, gathered on location.
While the internet may be slowly (or rapidly) degenerating our attention spans, it also allows us to recall anything and everything. "Music For Smalls Lighthouse" first saw light as a sold-out CD-R in 2010, and is now getting a loving, much-deserved vinyl re-issue on Clay Pipe Music, with a brand new mastering job (courtesy of ISAN's Anthony Ryan) and new artwork from Frances Castle.
The album tells the tale of two friends, Thomas Griffin and Thomas Howell, who volunteered to tend the lighthouse for 6 months in the year 1800. Griffin was killed in an accident leaving Thomas Howell to fend for his sanity, with his friend's body lashed to the outside of the towering edifice. This slight LP, re-issued by Clay Pipe Music on vinyl, recounts the madness & solitude, simulating Thomas Griffin's gradually succumbing to the demons of his mind. It sounds like "The Shining" in a creaky wooden leviathan.
The classical themes blended with the field recordings make for an immersive listening experience; it's like you're IN the lighthouse, a moth on the portocullis. "Music For Smalls Lighthouse" illustrates one of music's most hallucinatory properties; it is much more visceral and emotional then either film or print. Music bypasses the conscious filters, and sinks deep into the unconsciousness, making for strange dreams indeed.
"Music For Smalls Lighthouse" is a classic imaginary soundtrack, a score-with-no-film. The field recordings, captured in glorious hi-fi, are unprocessed and unmanipulated, as are the classical instruments - the celeste, the viola and piano. It's just beautiful music made on beautiful instruments, lovingly mixed and mastered. It's classic and timeless, but it's also new and exciting! Michael Tanner is a brilliant chamber composer, with strong emotive melodies, harmonies and controlled dissonance. These traditional merits are expertly blended with swelling synth pads and the sounds of birds, waves and creaking wood, hanging together in perfect harmony and equilibrium, like one of Kandinsky's mobiles. This mastery points a way forward for both electronic musicians and classical composers. Take note! The gauntlet has been thrown.
"Music For Smalls Lighthouse" is mesmerizing, riding the wind and rain of the early Fall in the Pacific Northwest. It's an essential introspective Autumnal headspin that I cannot recommend highly enough.

Available here. 

Read more from Jason Simpson at Forestpunk.
 

White Hills "So You Are....So You'll Be" Review

Reviewed By Jason Simpson

Too often the problem with space rock is its starry-eyed fixation with the past - guitar geeks who've spaced out to too many early Floyd records, standing gangly and lanking, resplendent in denim, languidly tweaking their pedals.
This is not the case with San Francisco's White Hills. They are hellbent on moving forward, expanding the lexicon of cosmic grooves in the process. On "So You Are, So You'll Be", they blend furious, barnstorming guitars with vintage electronics in an alchemical marriage of retro-fetishism and Sci Fi futurism.
White Hills are a progressive band. Not progressive in a Camel kind of way, but as in interested in their own progression. White Hills are hurtling forward like a frozen meteorite; they've released at least one album a year since their inception in 2005, with some years seeing two or even three releases. They just can't be bothered to repeat themselves. This is reflected in the songwriting on "So You Are... So You'll Be", which is a real sonic journey, alternating between analog electronic soundscapes followed by monolithic guitar riffs and punky drumming. This flows more smoothly than you might imagine, and it gives the impression of dreaming of life on Earth, while floating in a cold dead void. This record is bound to be a favorite amongst 'heads', recommended for headphone consumption, and bound to soundtrack many a late-night vision quest.
"So You Are... So You'll Be" could be the record that introduces the rock purist to the weird and wonderful glowing world of knob-twiddling and oscillator-fracking retro electronics, as all the rock elements are sturdy and foolproof, guiding the listener through the weirdness. The guitars are simple and stupid effective (engineered by Martin Bisi, of Swans/Cop Shoot Cop fame, so heavier than you might expect), while the bass plods pleasingly. The real ace in the hole here is drummer Nick Name, who plays fluently in at least three styles here, giving the album a real cruising velocity. The 45 minutes are gone in an instant, vanishing like a dream, moments after waking. The force of the rockers are cut by the analog atmospherics, turning this from a straight up Space Western into a weird psychedelic psychodrama, like something Ti West would make.
White Hills are a very, very prolific band. They churn out tons of records (that all have their moments), and live on the road (I recommend the live experience, if you get the chance). This combination is like candy for the seasoned psychedelic warrior, with a rich and vast world of sound to drown in. But for the uninitiated, "So You Are... So You'll Be" is a solid and satisfying listen, without a dud song in the bunch. A fine addition to an impressive catalog.
Recommended For Fans Of: Hawkwind, Voivod, Can, Neu!, Kinski, Acid Mothers Temple.

Available on CD here, or vinyl here.

You can read more from Jason on his own Blog, Forestpunk here.

 

The Bevis Frond "White Numbers" Review

Reviewed By Jason Simpson

The Bevis Frond have re-opened the floodgates, returning with a second album in as many years, after a seven year hiatus. The time off must've done Nick Saloman, and his backing band of Paul Simmons (Alchemysts, Oddfellows Casino, Jello Biafra) on guitars, Adrian Shaw (Hawkwind, Hawklords, Arthur Brown) on bass, and Dave Pearce (Psycho’s Mum, Limehouse Lizzy) on drums, some good. “White Numbers” has over two hours of music, covering two CDs or three LPs. Is this too much of a good thing?
Not if you like Rock 'n Roll.
“White Numbers” careens out of the gate with 'Begone', a six-and-a-half minute fire tornado of propulsive fuzz bass and twin-guitar flagellation. This is psych-rock without the incense; this is punk rock without the pyramid spikes. It starts you off with an adrenalised rush, and pins you to the back of your seat, as the Bevis Frond winds through their bag of tricks - sweet, catchy, moving power-pop; proto-metal; acid rock; Albion acoustic balladeer. Nick Saloman has been recording as The Bevis Frond for 30 years; he's learned a thing or two in that time. This kaleidoscopic skipping through a variety of styles, tempos, and moods is what makes “White Numbers” such an engaging listen. It keeps things clipping along, never resting for a second or getting boring, with the listener getting more and more invested and excited as things proceed. For the listener of discerning taste, there's a wealth of amazing songs to get lost in, to champion.
My personal favorite, and contender for Single Of The Year, is 'High Wind Crow', with it’s country-ballad mournfulness and soaring guitar lead. It takes your breath away with it’s tenderness and gorgeousness, a pretty waltz with a funky refrain, delightfully unexpected, that will snare you like a mountain trout. Nick Saloman acts as psychic conduit, summons the specter of Hendrix, Stevie-Ray, Duane Allman on wax. It’s the guitar solo that speaks volumes however, it's like the way that Billie Holiday or Miles Davis played slightly behind the beat, that soulful quality, emotional but restrained. It’s like a sigh, or a whisper. Nick Saloman speaks through his guitar, he has wedded with his machine, the mark of a true master. 'High Wind Crow', especially taken with 'For Pat (On The Chase Lounge)' is an adequate illustration of much that is right and holy with The Bevis Frond, and their consistently interesting and adventurous material. First of all, look at the refrain for 'High Wind', with its sunburst of Celtic harmonies as the music drops into half-time. Hacks don't think to write songs like that; this is the mark of a man who has spent a lifetime drowning in sounds, the mark of a true devotee. It’s a sign of that elusive soul, the mark of a natural. It’s a moment of startling beauty, unexpectedly moving - it'll take your breath away. It’s also the mark of a man attempting to master the art of songcraft, the way Dylan or Leonard Cohen did. Messing with arrangements, instrumentation, style, these are inquisitive minds, working at making brilliant art. He never rests for long, always questing for the perfect hook, the inspired solo. Speaking of inspiration, another highlight of this record is the sprawling 42- minute "Homemade Traditional Electric Jam", recorded while testing levels during the first day of recording. It could be some Neil Young outtake, or a Velvet Underground home recording, or a particularly good Grateful Dead show. This is the sound of this band WARMING UP! Sure, most normal citizens don't take the time to listen to 40 minute freeform jams on their way to work, but they're missing out. That's why we're all fanatically obsessed with music, no? That moment when the sweet bird of Genius alights on fingers and foreheads, and we are connected to the Sublime? Fledgling psych bands, you should be taking notes on this one. There's much to be gained.
That's why there's no such thing as too much Nick Saloman music. He has claimed to "twiddle with guitars the way some smoke cigarettes." After a while, he realizes he has settled upon a melody, and the dance begins yet again. This is like a cellar door, straight to his unconscious - music pouring straight from the essence, devoid of trappings, not trying to front. It doesn't matter what you think of it. Dare I say it, Nick Saloman's music is pure. Its this purity, and this unbridled creativity, that makes The Bevis Frond a contender for That Great Undiscovered Band you can't believe you've never heard of. Punks, headbangers, power pop geeks, acid heads, there's something for everybody here, and sometimes in the same song. Nick Saloman has ironically referred to himself as an 'unknown 58 year old psychedelic musician', and that needs to change! This man could be playing a half-time show at The Superbowl. He should be playing solar eclipse shows at The Great Pyramids. Its never too late, and "White Numbers" is a great place for the uninitiated to find out, to come and worship at the altar of guitars.
And speaking of guitars, fretboard geeks are Saloman's most opportune market. I can't figure out why this guy's not on the cover of Guitar Magazine every single month. He is like Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Richard Lloyd and David Gilmour run through The Fly's transmogrifier. For those that are constantly lamenting all the dead and damaged guitar gods, you have a living master walking in your midst, and you probably don't even know it. And speaking of David Gilmour, Pink Floyd fans may find much of merit in the 'Frond. For those that have worn out their copy of "Atom Heart Mother" or "Piper At The Gates Of Dawn" you will be relieved to find another great cosmic rock band, both current and contemporary. And while Pink Floyd got bogged down in gothic personal melodrama and squeaky clean sterile studio machinations, the Bevis Frond have always remained a working man's psychedelic band. Like a really, truly excellent pub band that blows the roof to heaven on a Friday night, to a crowd of thriteen. The hum of amps, the squeak of fretboards, fingers on strings - this music is real, and its also REALLY, REALLY good.
The time is right for THE RETURN OF THE REAL; real people, real musicians, real songcraft. Hordes of shadowy faceless techno producers are spinning the Uncanny Citadel, creating a vast cathedral of virtual phantoms, and you can get lost forever.
I have a fondness for these illusions, but they also provide a sharp contrast to the real deal, the human spirit. Nick Saloman has never been trying to be popular, although he certainly wouldn't mind. He's trying to improve, as a musician and a human being, create something personal and expressive in the meantime. He's living his life, he's spinning his own world, and he's inviting you to come in and check it out. As far as The Bevis Frond is concerned, more is better; all the better to get lost in, to study, to be inspired by.
"White Numbers" is as good as Bevis Frond's classic work "New River Head", a worthy place to climb on board, if you've never heard.

Check out more of Jason's writing here : http://forestpunk.wordpress.com

Available on Vinyl, and CD.

Death & Vanilla Obscure Classics Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson

Editor's note : We loved Death & Vanilla's debut here at Active Listener Towers (it featured here in our top 40 of the year last year), but for some reason never got around to a full review. Occasional Active Listener scribe Jason Simpson takes up the reins for this "Obscure Classics" review.

On Death And Vanilla's bandcamp page, they are described as 'moonlighting music pop kraut-lullabies'. To that I would add 'kool kosmic motorik filmstock library music'. This guy and girl clearly relish sounds pre-'70s,
Death And Vanilla's self-titled album from March of 2012 sparks and glows with Kodachrome aura, gloriously burned and smeared around the edges, like a photo of a christmas tree through a vaseline coated lens. I had a bit of difficult unearthing biographical data on the creators, but I'm pretty sure Death & Vanilla are a Swedish duo. They use the traditional rock template; guitar, bass and drums, and adorn it with gothic filigree; electric harpsichords and lots and lots of vibes. All of the instrumentation seems hissy and tape-laden, making me wonder how much of this music is sample-based, or if it's just been lovingly processed and treated. The overall effect is like the '60s worship of The Elephant 6 Collective, or the cocktail library fetishization of Stereolab, The Magnetic Fields or Belle & Sebastian.
Death And Vanilla are performing an etheric, shoegaze rendition of this bossa nova chic, particularly smeary and impressionistic. You can hardly pick out what the vocals are saying, like the ghost of a cocktail singer whispering in your ear as you sip absinthe in a haunted night club. The word 'dream' appears from the haze, from time to time. Death And Vanilla emerge from moldering hauntological underpinnings, like a hallucinogenic fungal infestation in your basement.
They are the same sort of literary archive hackers as Broadcast, The Focus Group and the rest of the Ghost Box affiliates, Pye Corner Audio etc. They are audio revisionists, painstakingly re-creating the murky mystery of antiquated vinyl and strange television in the middle of the night, with or without the fever dreams. Like the rest of the truly great artificers, so much depends upon traditional virtues such as musicality, production, emotion and feel. In short, if you are going to make music that sounds like the incidental music to an episode of the first season of Hammer House Of Horror, your tinny cheap keyboards better sound damn good. Your melodies better be catchy and memorable, your counterpoint superb, if you are trying to sound like advertising music from 1964. And Death And Vanilla's are. The basslines are funky in an 80s plastic kind of way, and all the swirling ghost train keyboards really make for a mesmerizing atmosphere. The vibes are a nice touch, as well as the pulsing, metronomic machine drums, seemingly belched forth from a thrift store Hammond. It all combines to cast you under its spell, beginning with the opening 'Ritual' and never breaking, enveloping and breaking over you. It seems like the score to a French New Wave fairy tale, a pastoral sense of adventure, a colorful psychedelia. This cinematic feel is further emphasized by the inclusion of a couple of 'incidental tunes' , 'Somanbulists' and 'Library Goblin', that leave you aching to go find some oversized VHS video nasty you've never seen. It leaves you yearning for undiscovered treasures.
Death And Vanilla's self-titled opus is one such undiscovered hoard. It deserves to be heard by many. For those with curiosity about the future of nostalgia, take a gander in this direction.
Fall under its spell.

Levek "Look A Little Closer" Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson

At the time of its release, some critics (http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/17194-look-a-little-closer/) were unduly harsh, condemning David Levesque as a chillwave knock-off, a Bibio clone, a copy of a copy, forever losing fidelity. A lot of critics seem to think that something has to be brand new and unheard of for it to be valid. It is this endless march of progress that is drowning our rivers and valleys in toxic sludge and McDonald's wrappers. Perhaps we should pause the progress, and consider where we're coming from.

Davis Levesque's, the driving force behind Levek, goal creating his debut release for Lefse Records, was to "make an album that I've always wanted someone to make. Something that I would enjoy listening to." This purity of purpose irradiates every moment of Look A Little Closer; Levek use every sound imaginable from the last 50 years to make a dense, masterful, personal statement. Mainly drawing from sounds mostly outside of the rock vernacular; Bossa Nova, British Folk, Spy Music, Look A Little Closer is an alternate reality frozen at sunset, an essential reprieve from the post-modern clamor, where you can just hang and swing in a hammock for an hour. 

The skill and care with which this record was assembled becomes obvious, when you really stop and listen. Every track teems with percussion, flutes, vintage keyboards, and vocal harmonies. Lefse Records described Look A Little Closer as "the amalgamation of the tenderness of Bridge Over Troubled Water and the funky 70s Blaxploitation attitude." If you like sweet, soulful pop music, you will drool over this gem, and if you're only interested in the next, best thing, you will most likely miss the point. 

The two folkiest numbers on here, 'Canterbury Bells' and 'Girl In The Fog', are the aces in the hole, showing what Levesque and cohorts are capable of, drawing you in, forcing you to pay attention and to care. Delicate finger-picked guitars waltz and swoon with cooing vocal harmonies; clearly there is amazing songwriting and musicianship at work here, and that's what we're looking for, right? Once you're invested, the record unfolds like a Morning Glory at dawn, revealing its intricacies, its warm beating heart. 

There is not a note out of place on here, nothing to break the psychotropical reverie. Look A Little Closer is a modern pop masterpiece, perfect for those that miss Broadcast or Stereolab. It will leave you gasping for Astrud Gilberto and Getachew Mekuria LPs, as well as pulling out those High Llamas records you forgot about. 

This record was originally released in the Autumn, so the time is right for you to re-discover this obscure gem. 

Absolutely, stunningly essential. 

Available here on CD, and here on vinyl.

Sone Institute "A Model Life" Review

Reviewed by Jason Simpson

"A Model Life" is a shining monorail holo-cruise through quiet island villages, the (American) wild west, seventies spy thrillers and ultimately... Outer Space.
Roman Bezdyk accomplishes this by weaving a deft and dense tapestry of hip-hop, easy-listening and psychedelia that leaves the listener guessing what is real and what is sampled; an uncanny listening experience that you have to succumb to. Just kick back in your lush, plush recliner and gaze out the window, as wild & unfamiliar scenarios flit across your brain pan.
 'Witchcraft & Pornography' and 'Fear And Happiness' serve as the launching pad, bookending the album - the point of departure. Hendrix riffs and a Dirty South beat reminding us, "Fear not. It's only a ride." Once you settle into this ride, The Sone Institute takes you on a breakneck journey through nearly every genre imaginable, while sturdy hip-hop beats tie the animatronic proceedings together, rooting it firmly in the present. This pancultural polygenre is a tricky business to pull off successfully. If you screw one of them up, you fail at them all (remember acid jazz?) Thankfully, The Sone Institute's beats are tight as stretched leather and Bezdyk either
a. knows how to  play a billion and one instruments
or
b. is one of the greatest living samplers.
Either way, the closer you look the more A Model Life draws you into its uncanny geography. Another reviewer drew issue with this record, accusing The Sone Institute of 'merely' making library or incidental music.
I have a problem with this assessment, for two reasons:
 1. It supposes that there is something wrong with library music, as if it can't be listened to in terms of melody, dynamics, composition, and other aspects that have been around as long as songs have been written.
 2. It doesn't really sound like library music, anyway.
 True, "A Model Life" can slip into the backgrounds, around the second third of the album, but it sounds more like exotica than library music. It conjures images of tikis and moldy LPs rather than public access commercials and training films. I rather enjoy The Sone Institute recreating worldbeat easy-listening sounds and their fresh way of approaching something which might sound dated or foreign otherwise. Listening to "A Model Life" has left me yearning for Martin Denny, Astrud Gilberto and Henry Mancini spy soundtracks. Roman Bezdyk has created something special with "A Model Life", an artifact that is both classic and entirely timely.
It sounds like 2013, and also 1963.

Available digitally here, and on CD here.