Samothrace Life's Trade (20 Buck Spin) Original Review Hailing from Lawrence, Kansas, Samothrace (not sure if named after the Greek Island or a race of Emperor guitarists) have come out of nowhere with a stunning debut album that mixes the girth and throb of psychedelic sludge/Post Rock (think Minsk and Rwake) with the utterly rending, layered harmonies and beautiful yet wilting melody of Anathema, Morgion or even the Finnish doom/death scene.
Life’s Tradeis 4 songs and just over 45 minutes of draining, soul crushing music that will leave your heart shattered and spent but with a glimmer of hope gleaming through the shroud of despondency. Seriously, the mix of typically fuzzed out Sanford Parker produced sludge/doom, gruff roars, sprawling ambience and truly evocative, layered guitar work might move you to tears-it almost did me.
Opener “La Llorona’s” (”The Crying lady”-named after a child drowning ghost of Mexican folklore) is a moping, heaving monster of lethargy and a slight Southern drawl mingled with the haunting throes of the subject matter. Then, standout track “Awkward Hearts” renders arguably one of the most moving pieces of music I’ve heard in 2008. While my full time job has rendered my an emotionless prick, music still has the ability to physically affect my emotions and the opening delicate strums and cascading peak of “Awkward Hearts” is that rare piece of music that feels like God reaching into my chest, grabbing my heart, wringing it out, and leaving it a withered husk. Think Anathema’s “Lovelorn Rhapsody” and Morgion’s “Canticle” mixed with the crushing ebbs of Isis or Neurosis. Simply fucking amazing.
“Cacophony”, has a tall order to follow, but manages to keep me enthralled initially a heftier, sludgier repast before gently transitioning into a shimmering, psychedelic mid song trip and tumbling, stoner doom ending climax. Closer “Cruel Awake” gives a fittingly despondent , 13 minute endnote with a crumbling, epic lope littered with layered melodic acoustics and again, a slightly hazy, swampy feel and the closing 3 minutes coming close to recreating the sheer mournfull bliss of “Awkward Hearts”.
Like Deadbird, Samothrace isn’t the biggest name in the genre, but by god have they delivered one of the year’s better albums and like Deadbird’s Twilight Ritual, look for Life’s Trade to flirt with my year end list.
Written by Erik Thomas October 3rd, 2008
Upcoming live dates: 10/04 New Haven, CT @ Rudy's 10/06 New York, NY @ Lit Lounge 10/07 Rochester, NY @ The Pussy Barrel 10/08 Columbus, OH @ Legion of Doom 10/09 Cincinnati, OH @ The Bluerock Tavern 10/10 Toledo, OH @ Ramalama Records 10/11 Chicago, IL @ Metal Shaker 10/12 Milwaukee, WI @ 319 Garfield 10/16 Fayetteville, AR @ The Grill 10/17 Tulsa, OK @ House show 10/18 Oklahoma City, OK @ Conservatory 10/19 Oklahoma City, OK @ Spinks @ Neil Diamond 10/20 Kansas City, MO @ The Riot Room 10/22 Lawrence, KS @ The Replay 10/23 Denver, CO @ Blast-o-Mat 10/27 Los Angeles, CA @ House show 10/28 Oakland, CA @ Hazmat 10/29 San Francisco, CA @ Thee Parkside 10/30 Chico, CA @ Monstros Pizza 10/31 Portland, OR @ Halloween house show 11/01 Seattle, WA @ Squid and Ink 11/02 Bellingham, WA @ Green Frog Acoustic Room 11/08 Denver, CO @ Curtis St. Bar 11/10 Vermillion, SD @ Arts Center Undergroung
Dave's staff picks for this week (by default Lindstrom will always be #1): THE PRESENT "World I See" CD/LP KRYSMOPOMPAS "Heute Schlafen - Morgen Aufwachen" LP THE NIXE s/t LP SILVER APPLES s/t LP Hummus and Cucumber sandwiches - cheap, easy, and delicious
In a year when Brooklyn buzz travels around the world at lightspeed, you can probably count on one hand the number of new bands that, when the hype settles, are more than inconsequential collections of postures and exhausted second-hand styles. Vivian Girls, an all-female trio who've become overnight sensations among critics and underground rock fans, are seemingly candidates for one of those emperor's new clothes-type reveals-- after all, they hail from said borough and perform lo-fi garage rock that taps a number of fashionable historical, ideological, and aesthetic wellsprings (C86! Slumberland! Olympia! Nuggets! Spector!). They deflect the knee-jerk criticism the most effective way possible, though: with an armful of kick-ass songs.
Vivian Girls' 22-minute debut for the California-based garage-rock imprint In the Red is actually a reissue of this spring's 500-copy run on the tiny Mauled by Tigers label. The original release sold out in 10 days, amping both the band's mystique and the record's exchange value: A vinyl copy ended bidding at $68 on eBay a couple weeks ago. So far, Vivian Girls seem to be taking their subcultural celebrity-- not to mention the summer departure of drummer and band founder Frankie Rose for brother band Crystal Stilts-- in stride. In the intentionally dorky video for "Tell the World", Cassie Ramone, Kickball Katy, and Ali Koehler address the camera, poised and unsmiling, even as they pantomime the usual humiliating music vid motions.
The band's lyrics are just as purposefully passive. In his intro to Rhino's superlative box set, One Kiss Can Lead to Another: Girl Group Sounds Lost and Found, critic Gene Sculatti locates the enduring popularity of 60s girl group music in its effect: "This music was, like a moving symphony or free-floating jazz jam, mainly about a feel, a sound. It had words, yes, but they were never intended to get in the way of the overall impact of the record." Punk credentials aside, Vivian Girls are clearly simpatico to that gentler era's agenda. According to the band, the album is somewhat conceptual, its 10 tracks evenly split between love and heartbreak. "No", an angry thrash-and-bash propelled by a single lyric (guess!) is easy to place. But the LP is rarely so transparent, and Vivian Girls mainly get their message across with a murky wall of noise. Try to pry the lyrics of cacophonous openers "All the Time" and “Such a Joke" from their shoegazery feedback, thudding bass, and tambourine rattle and you'll be missing the point.
Without risking pastiche, the band gets plenty of mileage from its sonic references. "Tell the World"s frantic beat recalls the jittery, chaotic rhythm of Black Tambourine's "Throw Aggi Off the Bridge", while the Girls' flawless, calmly executed three-part harmony counters with the satin-shoed professionalism of the Crystals. The lyrics-- this is one of Vivian Girls' few completely legible songs-- are as ambivalent: "I'll tell the world about the love that I've found," they enthuse, giving public voice to teenage infatuation (an evergreen girl-group subject), while at the same time raising the Spector of out-of-whack control issues: "He sees what I see/ He feels what I feel." (Not convinced? Switch out the gender of the pronoun and singers.) The end result is phenomenal, one of 2008's best songs. The sweet jangled "Where Do You Run To" is almost as great, making pining at home seem not so bad, all things considered.
The trio nabbed its name from the heroines of outsider artist Henry Darger's magnum opus, In the Realms of the Unreal. A sorority of vaguely fetishized hermaphrodite messiahs, Darger's Vivian girls are some of the most slippery, troublesome figures in contemporary art, making the band's appropriation a clever bit of self-mythologizing. The final track on their album, "I Believe in Nothing", purportedly endorses nihilism. But it puts the lie to its own message with heavenly madrigals and a hooky refrain that'll burrow into your brain and replay like a mantra until you do, in fact, believe in something. Even if it's just this really awesome new band.
Lots of live dates:
10/3 New York, NY @ Rocks Off Concert Cruise 10/4 Annandale-on-Hudson, NY @ Bard College 10/5 Montreal, QC @ Les Divan Orange (Pop Montreal) 10/11 Queens NY Silent Barn record release show 10/12 Boston, MA @ Great Scott (w/ Fucked Up) 10/13 Danbury, CT @ Heirloom Arts Theatre (w/ Fucked Up) 10/15 New York, NY @ Bowery Ballroom (w/ Fucked Up) 10/16 Brooklyn, NY @ Harket Motel (w/ Fucked Up) 10/17 Baltimore, MD @ Sonar (w/ Fucked Up) 10/18 Philadelphia, PA @ The Barbary (w/ Fucked Up) 10/19 Washington, DC @ Rock And Roll Hotel (w/ Fucked Up) 10/26 New York, NY @ Santos' Party House (w/ Jay Reatard) 11/8 New York, NY @ Bowery Ballroom (w/ Deerhunter, Times New Viking) 11/9 New Haven, CT @ Bar 11/10 Boston, MA @ Paradise (w/ Deerhunter, Times New Viking) 11/16 Los Angeles, CA @ The Echoplex (Part Time Punks Festival) 11/17 San Diego, CA @ Casbah (w/ Love is All) 11/18 Los Angeles, CA @ The Smell (w/ Love is All) 11/20 San Francisco, CA @ Bottom Of The Hill (w/ Love is All) 11/22 Portland, OR @ Backspace (w/ Love is All) 11/23 Seattle, WA @ Nectar Lounge (w/ Love is All) 11/28 Philadelphia, PA @ Johnny Brenda's (w/ King Khan & BBQ Show) 11/30 New York, NY @ Bowery Ballroom (w/ King Khan & BBQ Show) 12/02 London, UK @ Brixton Windmill 12/03 London, UK @ Old Blue Last 12/04 Nottingham, UK @ The Social 12/05 Liverpool, UK @ Club Evol 12/06 Glasgow, UK @ Captain's Rest 12/07 Leeds, UK @ Cockpit 12/08 Coventry, UK @ Colosseum 12/09 London, UK @ Madame Jojo's - White Heat 12/10 Manchester, UK @ The Deaf Institute 12/12 London, UK @ Vice Kills Proud Galleries 12/13 Bristol, UK @ Club Kute at Cooler
Everyone, right? Everyone who's ever spent any significant amount of their life going to live shows has a favourite venue, the one place you'd go along to even if you didn't know what was on the bill that evening although perhaps for different reasons, such as - it's where you can hear your favourite kind of music/it's the nearest place doing live shows near to where you live/you are actually a member of what is a members only club - various reasons,but you keep going back there, and the club has a place of some significance in your everyday life, the place you spend all day Thursday preparing to visit on Friday evening -
And for more than one generation of gig goers in Berkeley CA, that is the unobtrusive flat roofed brick fronted building at 924 Gilman St. Only the presence of queuing punters would alert the passerby to the fact there is a venue, and a well established one at that, operating amongst the warehouses and garages on this stretch of the East bay waterfront. Since its opening in 1986 practically every punk band of any significance on the West Coast has gigged, often at their own expense, with the aim of providing what is very definitely a much needed resource in the Berkeley area, as a series of interviews with past and present staff and supporters of the Venue With No Name reveal.
There is a very definite ethos at work around the 924 Gilman Street. More than one interviewee makes mention of the internal politics of the club, the tussels over management (the club was originally set up by Maximum Rock N Roll magazine) and the continuing discussions about what 924 Gilman Street does and doesn't represent, although a broad 'No Racism/Sexism/Homophobia/Major Label Artistes' statement seems to have drawn agreement from all involved.
The film contains footage of around 20 live performances from various moments of the clubs 22 year history and at least as many interviews with assorted Berkeley punk alumni. Some of the bands featured aren't much known outside of the Bay area while others such as Fugazi, Rancid and The Offspring are recognisable names from over the last ten or so years. It must take some serious amount of commitment to keep any small scale venue afloat over more than two decades, especially when it only features one type of music but would I ever want to drop in on 924 Gilman Street of an evening? Regardless of what band was playing? Did I even know the place existed before I watched this DVD? The answers to those questions are yes/yes and no.
Tobacco can write a badass synth jam, he can also be part of a killer video. The vid for 'Hawker Boat' from the upcoming Fucked Up Friends album (streets 10/14) is a two minute / seven second mind blender of pop-culture references and visual manipulations. Cameo appearances include Richard Simmons, 80'ies fuzzy creatures, and a preposterous Bart Simpson imposter holding a “Don’t Eat Drugs, Eat Pizza" sign. In other words, entertainment of the finest quality.
Apparently the writers have something to write about. Below is an astonishing Vivian Girls press report update. And this is sure to be just the beginning.
*** Recent Breaks - The Vivian Girls will have a full page "Breaking Out" feature in the next issue of Spin. - To coincide with Goner Fest in Memphis this week, the Vivian Girls are on the cover of this weeks Memphis Flyer with a full feature! - Their video received it's premiere on Pitchfork:
*** Confirmed Features - Sadie Magazine - Exclaim! - Rolling Stone New Music Blog - Feature and photo in last weeks Time Out NY. - Girl About Town- Royce Epstein - The Fader- Q and A- Maud Deitch - Band top ten on DustedMagazine.com - Pitchfork- guest list- Tyler Grisham - Under the Radar- Mark Redfern - Interview- Martha Tuber- interview - Spin- buzzcatcher- Jennifer Edmondson and David Marchese - Time Out NY- Hank Shteamer - Baltimore City Paper- Michael Byrne - Alarm- Jamie Ludwig - Blurt- Eric Rasmussen - Agit Reader - Nylon - Paper magazine- Alexandria Symonds - The Trip Wire - Tiny Mix Tapes interview - Cover story in the next issue of Maximum Rock N' Roll. - Brooklyn Rail- Kate Silver - The Commercial Appeal- Memphis-Bob Mehr - The Memphis Flyer- Andrew Earles - CMJ- on the verge - Color Magazine- Saelan Twerdy - UK fatures in NME, Dazed And Confused and Plan B.
*** Confirmed Reviews Dusted- Michael Crumsho per Otis Hart Venus- K. Tighe Uber Drivel The Portland Mercury Paperthinwalls The Brooklyn Paper My Big Mouth Strikes Again Eye Weekly- Dave Morris Nylon- Cristina Black Dusted- Doug mosurock- already reviewed two singles The Advocate- Kurt Reighley Stereogum- Brandon Stosuy- gum drop track premiere in august Allmusic Tokion- Maxwell and Jay The Onion- DC- Doris Nhan Express Night Out- Meg Zamula Under the Radar- Mark Redfern Time Out NY- Hank Shteamer Metro Pop- Andrew Steinthal The Stranger- Eric Grandy Perfspot NY Times- show review - Jon Caramanica The Daily News- Jeffrey Sisk West Ender- Michael White The Daily Texan- Brad Barry Columbus Alive- Melissa Starker Chicago Reader- Kevin Warwick The New Gay NY Times- Jon Caramanica Washington Post Coke Machine Glow Village Voice Time Out NY Giant Magazine- Aaron Richter Boston Phoenix- Liza Weisstuch Emusic- Yancey Strickler Paper Magazine- Alexis Swerdloff Blender- Chris Ehrmann Bust- Laurie Henzel and Sara Graham Magnet- Matt Fritch Venuszine CMJ V- T Cole City Pages- Mike Kooiman Knoxville News- Randall Brown Philly City Paper- Patrick Rapa- w/ photo Creative Loafing- Chad Radford
And more live dates:
9/24 Nashville TN Exit/In 9/26 Memphis TN Gonerfest at High Tone 9/28 Atlanta GA E.A.R.L. w/ Tyvek 9/29 Knoxville TN Pilot Light w/ Tyvek 9/30 Charlottesville VA Outback Lodge w/ Tyvek 10/1 Baltimore MD Ottobar w/ Tyvek 10/3 New York NY Rocks Off Concert Cruise 10/4 Annandale-on-Hudson NY Bard College 10/5 Montreal QC Les Divan Orange Pop Montreal 10/11 Queens NY Silent Barn record release show 10/12 Boston MA Great Scott w/ Fucked Up 10/13 Danbury CT Heirloom Arts Theatre w/ Fucked Up 10/15 New York NY Bowery Ballroom w/ Fucked Up 10/16 Brooklyn NY Harket Motel w/ Fucked Up 10/17 Baltimore MD Sonar w/ Fucked Up 10/18 Philadelphia PA The Barbary w/ Fucked Up 10/19 Washington DC Rock And Roll Hotel w/ Fucked Up 10/26 New York NY Santos' Party House w/ Jay Reatard 11/8 New York NY Bowery Ballroom w/ Deerhunter, Times New Viking 11/9 New Haven CT Bar 11/10 Boston MA Paradise w/ Deerhunter, Times New Viking 11/16 Los Angeles CA The Echoplex Part Time Punks Festival 11/17 San Diego CA Casbah 11/18 Los Angeles CA The Smell 11/20 San Francisco CA Bottom Of The Hill 11/22 Portland OR Backspace 11/23 Seattle WA Nectar Lounge 11/28 Philadelphia PA Johnny Brenda's w/ King Khan & BBQ Show 11/30 New York NY Bowery Ballroom w/ King Khan & BBQ Show 12/02 London UK Brixton Windmill 12/03 London UK Old Blue Last 12/04 Nottingham UK The Social 12/05 Liverpool UK Club Evol 12/06 Glasgow UK Captain's Rest 12/07 Leeds UK Cockpit 12/08 Coventry UK Colosseum 12/09 London UK Madame Jojo's - White Heat 12/10 Manchester UK The Deaf Institute 12/12 London UK Vice Kills Proud Galleries 12/13 Bristol UK Club Kute at Cooler
Michael Gira will be playing a solo acoustic set at The Stone in NYC Tuesday September 30 at 10 PM. The set will include 2 new songs (possibly a 3rd), the Swans song "I Crawled", as well as various Angels of Light and other Swans songs. Truly a night not to miss.
Reviews More Slow, Indecipherable, Brutal Beauty From the Dead C By Mike Wolf Tuesday, September 23rd 2008
What does it mean to say that a band has returned to form, when doing away with form was kind of the point to begin with? The Dead C's 2007 album, Future Artists, found the New Zealand trio mainly immersing themselves in electronically generated tones 'n' drones (with a few metal scrapings for flavor), and while it's hard to begrudge a 20-year-old group their indulgences, it's far from the most thrilling excursion in their bulging, misshapen catalog. Secret Earth, though, is the stuff: the largely improvised anti-rock that characterized their '90s output, which brought them to the attention of Sonic Youth and, subsequently, the rest of the Northern Hemisphere underground.
Nothing moves like this band's music: rolling and roiling, inexorable yet indifferent, an unstoppable object impelled by unreasonable forces. Think of the creeping lava that created the Dead C's country thousands of years ago, horrific in its time but resulting today in beautifully fractured terrain, like the islands in Otago Harbor, pictured on Secret Earth's cover. Don't let any TV biker-hippies fool you—this is real freedom rock, free of the codified mannerisms and looks (and chords, structures, and sales figures) that make up late-capitalism-era rock music.
As any Iraqi will tell you, though, freedom ain't always pretty. Bruce Russell's guitar never met a note it didn't—well, it's possible that roaring, keening guitar has never met a "proper" note at all. Michael Morley's mostly indecipherable vocals drift between moaning and wailing. Drummer Robbie Yeats is closest to convention, his spare but crashing work marking the disorienting darkness of Secret Earth's four long songs. The songs stubbornly refuse to develop; their rewards lie not in where they go, but rather in the way they just go. "Plains," which simply smokes for nine minutes, most immediately resembles rock, but it might take a dozen listens for the riffs of "Stations," the album's longest piece, to begin to define themselves as some other-dimensional blues. (Do people stick with an album that long anymore?) Two-thirds of the way through the track, a line that I want to believe goes, "It is such that I'm unsuuure . . ." drips out of Morley's mouth, offering as much justification as there could be for the Dead C.
Secret Earth streets on October 14th. Upcoming US live dates are as follows: 10/12 Philadelphia, PA @ Johnny Brenda’s (w/ Blues Control, Pink Reason) 10/13 New York, NY @ Bowery Ballroom 10/15 Seattle, WA @ Nectar Lounge w/ Six Organs Of Admittance 10/16 San Francisco, CA @ Great American Music Hall (w/ Six Organs Of Admittance) 10/19 Chicago, IL @ Empty Bottle
VOLCANO! “Paperwork” (Leaf) Original post The noisy, ferociously talented band Volcano! earns its name with its explosion of song: melodies within melodies, little harmony-rich sketches that could fuel another band’s entire track.
Yet “Paperwork,” this Chicago trio’s second album, isn’t all pleasure. Volcano! has absorbed a lot from Deerhoof, another band with a killer drummer and complicated songs that sound fresh, jury-rigged and seldom overthought. And it sounds as if this band has inherited some of Deerhoof’s anti-production too: Sam Scranton’s bass drum like a tabloid headline; Aaron With’s trebly guitar and dry-sounding vocals, mixed low enough to make the words indistinct; keyboards and electronics (from Mark Cartwright) used in nontraditional ways, sudden surges of ensemble sound that push everything into the red.
Mr. With uses his guitar for jolting or lilting single-note lines, rhythm scratches and noise. His voice is what sounds like a true lead guitar, stretching words and sounds into giant melodies, even when they are just in-between parts, embellishments or passing phrases.
As a singer he’s brave and extremely musical but sometimes hard to take — histrionic and affected, with a grating falsetto. The lyrics are full of insults and petty frustrations about office drudgery, spoiled rock stars and consumerism. Sometimes they’re sung in Spanish. Once, in “Astronomer’s Ballad,” this fits the song, a kind of Mexican country waltz. A few other times it’s as unnecessary as the punctuation mark in the band’s name.
From 1986 - 1993, The Gits developed an impressive reputation in the Seattle punk scene, only to have its progress halted by the senseless rape & murder of its vocalist, Mia Zapata. This Documentary, directed by Kerri O'Kane chronicles their growth, Mia's murder, and the conviction of her killer.
When we were first introduced to volcano! three years back, the initial boisterousness of their avant rock assault was disarming enough to earn them a place in our innovation-deprived hearts. Beautiful Seizure was everything an experimental rock record should be — difficult, unpredictable, and invigorating. Now, following a two-year hiatus, volcano!’s sophomore effort Paperwork has arrived as our latest listening challenge, and I am happy to report that there’s plenty reason to rejoice.
Although the band has maintained its restlessness and proclivity for outbursts, this new batch of compositions has a demeanor both more focused and melodic than their earlier work. Overall, the band seems to be enjoying working together as a tighter unit, and as a result, an almost funky quality emerges at times from the cacophony, as when "Africa Just Wants to Have Fun" ends with a breakdown that I imagine will inspire many a listener to unexpectedly and uncontrollably lapse into a shaking of the booty.
Sam Scranton’s drumming was always a major component of volcano!’s sound, but here, it’s nothing short of foundational. Right from the opening track "Performance Evaluation Shuffle," his ability to be simultaneously rock-solid and unhinged allows his bandmates to careen and wobble without the slightest sense of ever losing purpose. Meanwhile, Aaron With’s vocals and guitarwork, while still rambunctious, show more sarcastic bite and tunefulness. "Slow Jam" in particular seems an exercise in flaunting his admirable elasticity in both areas, a strange sex/love song where he comes across as a nerdy pervert constantly apologizing for overstepping his boundaries. With a little Timbaland tweaking, it could be on JT’s next album (or at least Har Mar’s).
It seems inevitable that, after a mold-breaking start, a band can only mature by finding ways of subverting form from within — breaking pop apart by more fully working within (and against) its contours. In this sense, Paperwork is a definite step forward, and though it’s possible that those who loved volcano! before might find this more "conventional" album less exciting, I’d be surprised if anyone called it less rewarding.
1. Performance Evaluation Shuffle 2. Africa Just Wants To Have Fun 3. Tension Loop 4. Fairy Tale 5. Slow Jam 6. ’78 Oil Crisis 7. Sweet Tooth 8. Astronomer’s Ballad 9. Untitled 10. Palimpsests 11. Kitchen Dance
by Dave Gurney Volcano! are playing a few Chicago dates before heading over to Europe for a five week tour. The band has a record release show at the Empty Bottle on September 25th and a in-store at Reckless in-store October 5th at 4:00 PM.
Nurse With Wound - "Thrill Of Romance...?" (Huffin' Rag Blues)Stephen Stapleton (or Nurse With Wound, or NWW) has been doing his Dada for 30 goddamn years. He’s hosted punishing industrial discipline-fests, playful sound collages, eerie hypnosis soundtracks and, on occasion, postmodern pop (best exemplified by the lite-funk creep-out Who Can I Turn To Stereo?). 2004’s Angry Electric Finger trilogy, an arbitrary tour through every NWW idea that stuck, might have been his definitive career-capper. The conceptually cheeky “greatest hits” collection Livin’ Fear of James Last might have made NWW feel canonized. But, like most of his late-period work, they both slid right under the public radar, and now fetch prohibitively high prices at auction. Stapleton may be as eccentric and prolific as Lil Wayne, but he’s never attracted the same unquestioning adoration from centrist indie-rockers. He keeps putting stuff out, but it doesn’t get passed around. His music exists only in context with itself. Journos need a “hook,” even if you’ve got a few fans that don’t. Stapleton has spent 30 years discovering that no one else really gets his dream journal.
Unsurprisingly, Huffin’ Rag Blues, which might be a high-concept crossover attempt, has thusfar met with nearly universal indifference. Even the NWW coterie probably doesn’t know what to make of it. Y’see, it’s a jazz record, or a commentary on jazz records, but not “good,” A Love Supreme-type jazz records. This is a record about corny speakeasy jazz records. With Stapleton’s irreverent surrealism and electronic dissonance, it examines those old pop-jazz records, and it divines the creepiness within. Crazy!
Basically, Huffin’ Rag Blues sounds like an artifact of the long-forgotten retro swing and exotica fads that flourished, briefly, during the 1994-96 Cobain suicide fallout, when a few brave hipsters dove into Technicolor yard-sale kitsch as the most blatant possible rejection of grunge and discovered that, hey, a lot of this stuff is weird, way-out in a way that fake-blues psychedelia never approached. This record would’ve found a loving home with the people who played between the poles of RE/Search and Swingers. But those people have completely disappeared. Martin Denny and “Willie the Weeper” are no longer ripe for cryptic satire. Younger critics who shit their Underoos over Panda Bear have no context for this whatsoever. So it just sounds like a relatively bland NWW record with a few imbalanced collaborations (the ever-present, neutralizing influence of Andrew Liles; vocalist Lynn Jackson’s recurring Mo Tucker impression; Matt Waldron’s overwrought Tom Waits pastiche on “Black Teeth”). It’s a meta-meta-meta-throwback. Or a weird Tipsy record. And no one seems to give a shit.
Given a few months in the deck, its subtle charms emerge. “The Funktion of the Hairy Egg” echoes the rhythmic fever-dreams of Who Can I Turn to Stereo?, stashes Jackson’s most haunting incantation near the nine-minute mark, collapses into a cacophony of barnyard noises, and holds surprises for the dozenth go-round. “Cruisin’ For a Bruisin’” celebrates internal combustion on its way to a crash that’s obvious but still thrillingly loud. And the almost a cappella rendition of “All of Me” gets a creepy-love-song-reclamation award. Half a century from now, if we make it, it’ll be “Every Breath You Take.”
Samothrace
