New Music: The Sea and Cake, The North Sea

The Sea and Cake - Exact to Me (Thrill Jockey 2007)

The Sea and Cake – Everybody / Thrill Jockey

“Hey! Is that the new Sea and Cake??? What does it sound like?”

“Well… umm…. You know, sounds like the Sea and Cake.”

I was speaker one in this conversation about a week and a half ago after spotting a promo copy of the upcoming release from Chicago’s grooviest indie-pop band, The Sea and Cake. While kind of mundane, it is an exchange that will no doubt take place numerous times with Everybody, the quartet’s first album in four years. But while it would definitely be considered a negative slant with most bands, I do not think such a remark would discourage any fan of the band. The Sea and Cake very much play a singular brand of endearingly groovy indie-pop, but it is a sound surrounded by intricate peculiarities, refined craftsmanship and melodies that pluck your heartstrings with care and exuberance. Everybody once again tackles pop music strung through jazz, blue-eyed soul, gentle funk, Brazilian and krautrock ideals, but this time the Chicago quartet aim for a more lively, not-quite-as-precise sound with tributaries of West African guitar grooves and rocksteady bounce.

The Sea and Cake came together in 1993 with all four musicians already spending time in acclaimed post-rock groups. At first intended as a one-off project to mix Chicago’s burgeoning textural and cerebral rock style with Afro-Caribbean rhythms for their self-title debut, guitarists Sam Prekop (Shrimp Boat) and Archer Prewitt (Coctails), bassist Eric Claridge (Shrimp Boat) and drummer John McEntire (Tortoise, Bastro) received such warm feedback that the initial side-project became a highly regarded concentration for most of the members. Actually named after McEntire’s misinterpretation of the song “The C in Cake” by Gastr del Sol, whom he was drumming for at the time, the key to the Cake’s sound is the distinctive contributions by each member: Prekop’s breezy, elegant croon and careful phrasing, Prewitt’s pinging, lyrical guitar lines, Claridge’s buoyant, nearly funky bass, and McEntire’s crisp, precise backbeat. Incredibly tight and refined, The Sea and Cake effervesce an almost debonair charm with their poppy indie-rock, and while their frame of sound may be easily predicted, the intricacies are always thoughtful and inventive.

Everybody almost acts as an antithesis to 2003’s One Bedroom. The latter saw the group utilizing drum machines for a more rigid sound, mechanical pop, but this latest entry heads in the complete opposite direction. Recorded in the secluded Key Club Studios in Benton Harber, MI with Brian Paulson (Slint, Wilco, and also the first producer used outside of McEntire in their 14 year existence), Everybody was laid to tape with very little overdubs. As well as a loosening of groove, their sound is not nearly as crisp as past recordings, giving Everybody a more gritty sound… but obviously only gritty in terms of the Sea and Cake back catalogue. The instrumental tone also benefits from this production style; a much more blended, natural, and warm sound to their already soothing vibe.

The biggest standout of Everybody is “Exact to Me,” which utilizes with much success the Western African guitar style (which is bleeding into many genres it seems these days). Prewitt genuinely captures that guitar mode of benga music, no doubt influenced by fellow Thrill Jockey-ers Extra Golden. As well, McEntire takes a much more cymbal heavy and skittering snare beat than his usual snare-centric rhythm. “Middlenight” creeps into your ears with delicate wisps of pedal steel and wavering keyboard coos, while “Crossing Line” actually finds the group significantly rocking out. With Prewitt adding some feedback to the accompanying handclap beat, you’ve got a new potential live favorite. The only track that really reminisces of One Bedroom is “Lightning” with it’s gated snare, but Claridge’s lightly galloping bass, twinkling vibes and glistening keyboards send it swirling into even deeper realms of dream pop.

So yes, Everybody sounds basically what you would expect from The Sea and Cake, but unless you only give it a glancing listen, these are brand new territories for Chicago’s finest indie-poppers. It is really a loosening of the debonair tie that has delegated their existence up to now. Of course you can still bring them home to your mother and she will merrily approve, but it’s much more of a subtly badass, experienced look. The pants hang a little lower, the tie not so taught and shirt a little ruffled. The Sea and Cake now get the go-ahead nod from both your parents and your friends.






The North Sea - Feather-Cloaked Silver Priestless (Type 2007)

The North Sea – Exquisite Idols / Type

During a small college graduation party in the Boondocks of South Carolina, me and a few of my close friends were hanging out in a rural backyard, reminiscing, drinking and just being together as a group for what turned out to be the last time before scattering ourselves around the country. The night was plugging along nicely with nothing too outlandish when one of my friend’s backcountry neighbors stumbled up with a jar of clear liquid with a shriveled peach inside. If you’ve never experienced real, homemade, unsafe for anyone, practically rubbing-alcohol moonshine, I would recommend keeping it that way. To say that shit has a bite is vastly underrating it. If a shot of straight vodka is mosquito bite, real moonshine is an alligator chomp. One of my good friends in attendance that night is a hell of a drinker, not in the sense that he does it all the time, but he could damn well chug any beer or liquor in existence without so much as a hiccup. Well by the time the neighboring redneck stumbled up with his jar of liquid death, this friend was pretty damn drunk and taking dares. One thing led to another, and after a verbal slant to his manhood, he damn near chugged the entire fucking jar. Needless to say, he missed the chair on the way down. Later during the 2a.m. drive home, he threw up in my car three times, and I had to actually hoist his head up while weaving through the back roads of northern South Carolina because he had fell completely limp. With the windows rolled down, nature chirping all around us, my radio humming along to Ravi Shankar’s droning sitar, and the moonshine swirling merrily around his brain, I have a good feeling a music not completely unlike The North Sea’s Exquisite Idols soundtracked his trip home.

Brad Rose is far from a household name even in a blogosphere sense, but he is definitely heading in that direction. His biggest claim to fame to date is his acclaimed 2006 collaboration with the U.K.’s elegant drone trio Rameses III, Night of the Ankou on Type, but he also runs the Digitalis and Foxglove labels, the Foxy Digitalis webzine and records under a number of other monikers, though The North Sea seems to be his latest concentration. For his solo debut under the alias, Rose unleashes a creeping, ethereal and gently chaotic brand of free folk that incorporates drone, blues, folk, psychedelia, ambient and avant-garde with Indian, Greek and rural American influences.

The closest comparison I can come up with is Panda Bear’s recent Person Pitch, but there is one key difference: where Lennox was heavily influenced by Beach Boys melodies, I would say Rose draws much more heavily from The Velvet Underground’s experimental and acerbic rock, if we are looking back to the same era of influence. It is not that Rose’s material is that much more menacing, but where Lennox would opt for infectious, light-hearted coos, Rose will sing almost off-key with an indecipherable slur. Both acts’ music can be described as melancholic, whirling, meandering and trippy, but Rose definitely sounds like he composed his set secluded in his Tulsa, Oklahoma home while Lennox was very much in a Brooklyn state-of-mind (which is actually kind of backwards with the influences’ locale in mind, but you get my drift).

Nearly every one of the eight songs on Exquisite Idols has a different vibe. Most of the songs barely surpass the three-minute mark, except for the 11+ minute “We Conquered the Golden Age,” a freewheeling hookah puff of acoustic folk meandering, cascading drone and unstructured hand percussion. The first two tracks, “Eternal Birds” and “Guiwenneth Of The Green Grass,” set the stage with ambient bird chirps, haunting ghost-town piano rolls and droning keyboards, though the latter is exponentially brighter heading in an almost Takoma-like direction of rural acoustic folk. The album’s most accessible track, “Take It From Me Brother Moses” is all too short at only 2m13s; the delicate backwoods gospel stomp is simple and endearing, a breath of fresh country air in this hazy set of songs. Probably the most Panda Bear-like is “Children of the Ashes,” which crams in a barrage of hand percussions with chiming acoustic guitar overdubs and organ flourishes, though a better vocal melody would have definitely lifted the song to the next level. After the raga-influenced and impressively pulled-off “And Then The Solstice Disappeared,” Exquisite Idols comes to a close with “Feather-Cloaked Silver Priestless,” a raspy folk stomp with a healthy dose of Native American flutes and even a saxophone/banjo duet.

Exquisite Idols is far from perfect, but perfection is overrated. It is nowhere near as accessible as the similar-minded Person Pitch, but no less hypnotic and endearing. Rose definitely sounds as if he is testing the waters with his solo debut, and if that is true, the best is yet to come. And with a wonderful label like Type backing his rural psyche concoctions, I would definitely keep a watchful eye in his direction.

P.S. Like most of the recent Type releases, Matthew Woodson did the cover art, and it is stunning once again.

Used-Bin Bargains: Yaz

Yaz - Situation (Mute 1982)

Yaz - Upstairs at Eric's / Mute

Though I try hard not to be an egomaniac, sometimes I wonder about how readers think this blog works. Is it just that Jordan and Michael and I are thirds of the same whole, equal tastes with duties split up on the same great albums? Hardly. The truth is we disagree and our areas of emphasis are very different. If you've been reading us for any length of time, you can pick up pretty quickly on where our strengths are. I'm learning, but I'll be honest: Funk and soul from the 70s all sound pretty good to me. Michael's quality filter is much more attuned to that sort of thing... But on the flip side, it's tough for him to discern which 80s synthpop doesn't suck.

Michael: there are very few things i liked about the 80s
Michael: hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy, ghostbusters... that's all i got
Me: Magazine? Sonic Youth's best stuff? No and New Wave?
Me: Turbo everything.
Michael: i like latter day sonic youth, and i can take or leave both waves
Michael: i think i may be 10 years behind the typical popular curve, so ask me again in 2015
Me: NES. Contra. The greatest videogame code ever.
Me: And Yuri Andropov died! I don't see what's not to love.
Michael: ok, you got me on those two
Me: I'm just saying, there's more to the 80s than VH1 gives credit for.
Me: The Cars?
Michael: meh
Me: Billy Bragg?
Michael: meh
Me: Public Enemy?
Michael: i'm bigger on very early 90s rap

You get the idea. So Jordan and I take on the 80s and we try to do Justice to them, but judging by my campus and a truckload of music that's been coming out lately, I don't need to tell you the 80s weren't a total waste of time.

All that's a long-winded introduction to Yazoo aka Yaz (there was an American label that already had the name), and it's easy to forget all of the new wave groups that emerged right after the groundbreakers... So easy, in fact, that James Murphy himself has forgotten them in recent live renditions of "Losing My Edge." I would credit my personal discovery of Yaz to him (because I'm a tool), but I actually first heard Yaz on the Rules of Attraction soundtrack (because I'm a tool). That's what Audiversity's all about: Bringing such disparate people as James Van Der Beek and Bret Easton Ellis together with Yaz. And making me look like a tool. Because I'm an egomaniac. Connecting the dots.

Those dots for Upstairs at Eric's start with Alison Moyet in 1977, the best time to be 16, pissed off at the British school system, and primed to leave for a record shop with no future in South East Essex. But fate would have its way with her long beyond the years the punk-rock scene did: The Vandals, Screamin' Ab Dabs, The Vicars and The Little Roosters were just some of the creatively named groups that Moyet was a part of. Like virtually everyone else in Britain who saw the light of post-punk though, by 1981 Moyet had graduated to the new decade, the brave new world of hairspray synthesizers.

The other half of this story involves another Basildon child who helped nurture synthpop, Moyet and Erasure in quick succession: Vince Clarke was an Essex lad with violin and piano skills behind him when he met Andrew Fletcher and they formed No Romance in China around the same time Moyet was starting her record store gig. The band, like so many of Moyet's forays into punk, was short-lived: They lasted just two years and Clarke was a guitarist for French Look with third member Martin Gore when they changed their name to Composition of Sound. Clarke was a singer for the band, but he didn't like it: Hiring Dave Gahan in 1980 was right about the smartest thing they ever did. Depeche Mode has enjoyed a fruitful relationship since.

When the band's primary songwriter decided he was no longer comfortable with the line-up, he quit following 1981's remarkable debut Speak and Spell and a tour. It didn't take long for Depeche Mode to pick up the pieces in Clarke's wake, but the lack of starry-eyed reminiscing was mutual: Clarke and Moyet had formed Yaz by the spring of 1982. Evidence was their first single: "Only You" and "Situation" are, respectively, the a- and b-side of the first single the duo released. The British took to it kindly: It went straight to #2 in the charts and set an immediate precedent. Interestingly, these songs were originally proffered to Depeche Mode as a parting gift but they apparently declined.

Thank goodness they did, because these songs (along with "Don't Go," the third single which hit #3 in the UK and #1 on the Billboard dance charts) eventually formed the basis for their late-August debut LP: Upstairs at Eric's is a quintessential electropop record and fits in nicely alongside obvious synth-based duos like Soft Cell or Naked Eyes and the rest of the British contingent that had cleaned up its image and packed away their guitars in The Human League or Bronski Beat or, in a metaphorical sense, New Order.

Though "Situations" is a dancefloor stunner and has been re-released several times to much success, Yaz never seems to come up in conversation when discussing the great synthpop groups of the genre's heyday in the US partly because it never went anywhere near the Top 40. 1983's follow-up to Upstairs at Eric's, You and Me Both, is just as good if not better than the debut... And still the group continues to be bogged down by time, Napoleon Dynamite and "Can't Hardly Wait." But as "Situations" (and virtually every other song on Upstairs at Eric's, so named for producer Eric Radcliffe's apartment) proves, the natural pop chemistry of Moyet and Clarke was abundant. It is unfortuante that they decided to part following their sophomore release as Moyet went on to a solo career and Clarke went on to help start Erasure, but what was is just as good as what might have been in Yaz's case. I've seen Yaz in a bargain bin quite often and it baffles me that you wouldn't want to have these albums in your collection... Unless, of course, you hate the 80s or are a decade behind the typical popular curve.

Singleversity #8

Audiversity’s weekly column on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 104.

(Ed. - Originally this was called Threeversity, but in the spirit of simplicity we've decided to retroactively relabel all of these posts. The content remains unchanged.)

MA:
(#104 of a random playlist generated from my ever-changing database of 12,500+ songs)



Last summer, nearing the final moments of July, I think the unbearable heat melted my usual down-to-earth demeanor into a pool of sappy emotions and sun-baked sighs. For one reason or another, Milosh was my music of choice. His sweaty IDM beats and sexy coos seemed to manifest my undirected longing into blippy waves of late-night grooves. Because a track like "Time Steals the Day" is so genuinely primed for sensuous sessions of making-out and bodily explorations, it doubled as a soundtrack to my nightly woe-is-me window gazing. Yes, cheese. Sappy, mushy cheese. But we all succumb to such nonsense time and again.

JR:



It's spring in South Carolina and every possible moment is spent living the porch life. Nights out there are vibrant times, so refreshing being able to sit and sip on your beverage of choice, whether that be sweet tea or spirits, only going to fuel lively night-long conversations. So, of course, the whole rustic log cabin thing sounds good these days. Thanks to the advice of MV & EE I may just have to strike out into the wooded mountain sides of Virgina. "Cold Rain" is plucked from 2006's Mother Of Thousands, a real pastoral epic and my favorite MV & EE release.

PM:













While Cadence Weapon has dominated headlines in the past year following Breaking Kayfabe, Canadian hip-hop isn't merely confined to one critics' darling: Sixtoo has been representing both Halifax, Nova Scotia and Montreal since his cassette debut in 1994. A man of constant reinvention and a thick discography, Sixtoo hangs out on London-based Ninja Tune these days. Though 1998's The Psyche Intangible is regarded as a terse version of the man who would eventually pen 2000's Anticon. classic Songs I Hate (and Other People's Moments), "Shooting Angels" is notable not just for its brevity but also for its production and theoretical lyrics worth a read.

New Music: Phat Kat, Telegram!

Phat Kat - Vessels (feat. Truth Hurts) (Look 2007)

Phat Kat - Carte Blanche / Look

J Dilla's death in February of 2006 was, strangely enough, the genesis of a kind of resurgence in Detroit hip-hop. Donuts came at a time when most people only knew Detroit for D12 or "8 Mile" or whatever; I know that I hadn't taken much interest in the community up there until well after Donuts, but the reason I did was because of Dilla. In the months since, he's been memorialized almost to the point of sickness; whereas once he had been the beatman behind Common, now his name and likeness are frequently plastered all over liner notes and websites declaring what an influence he was on these people. It makes me ill at times, like his remaining unrealized potential is some sort of excuse to exploit an artist's own inherent weaknesses. "But he gives a shout-out to Jay Dee, he can't be that bad."

Well, maybe it's time to let sleeping dogs lie. Poor James probably just wants to RIP and I can't say I blame him... But if anyone has an excuse to throw up the name for another drop, it's Ronnie Watts aka Phat Kat. Kat has all the listings on his resume for his latest release, Carte Blanche. Origins: Both he and Dilla were in the group 1st Down in 1995 and, with a sole 12" to their name (A Day Wit' the Homiez just six songs long), disbanded after label trouble. Though it was ultimately unsuccessful, 1st Down was the beginning of a fruitful relationship between Dilla and Kat. They hooked up again during Kat's time in Slum Village and again on Jay Dee's Motor City-centric Welcome 2 Detroit.

In the months leading up to his death, Jay managed to bang out a number of songs for Phat Kat during a tour in the summer of '05. Though the album isn't flooded with Dilla's production, five of the 14 songs on Carte Blanche (and three of the first four) showcase his talent on the boards. The rest of the album flows just as well even though three other producers (Young RJ, Black Milk and Nick Speed) keep Kat honest on the mic with their resilient beats. One of the reasons it works so well together is because virtually everything involved in Carte Blanche is Detroit-based. All the producers and all the guest MCs excepting one: Truth Hurts is out of St. Louis. The only other exception, ironically, is Kat's label Look out of San Francisco... But they all seem to get it. Everyone involved in Carte Blanche, thankfully, seems to get it.

Kat's lyrics are as husky as the frame of the man that spits them, which actually works for him on this album. He's pure East Side on "True Story, Pt. 2" but he never plays the fool or slacks on his words. Equally intriguing are the guest appearances, and "Vessels" is the most fascinating of these with its stuttering synth line courtesy Nick Speed and Truth Hurts belting out a soulful backing track as Kat flies through each verse as fresh as he's ever sounded. If it's a little too tense for you, "Lovely" featuring Melanie Rutherford slows things down with an airy vibraphone line that has so much space to wrap up in. Couldn't have titled it better, really.

Dilla's production is pretty good too, though I didn't want to throw that in your face. "Nasty Ain't It?" gets the album off to a streetwise start with its dropped bass thuds, scratching and typical brevity at just over two-and-a-half minutes. "Cold Steel" is another highlight, dark and woody and both frighteningly urban and utterly rural all at once thanks to Elzhi's monochromatic reminder of what you're listening to. "Game Time" is the sound of a Japanese summer, sparse koto accopanying crickets and inevitable handclaps. But it's a brilliant beat and it's once again proof of what Dilla could do given the chance to expand.

But ultimately Carte Blanche isn't just about what Phat Kat and J Dilla could do given the chance; it's a giant orange-painted billboard indicating what Detroit as a whole can do given the chance. For what it's worth, this is one of my favorite hip-hop albums of the year so far, if for no other reason than its production is just another reminder of what the possibilities for Motown are: Between Young RJ, Black Milk and Nick Speed, the city is alive. I just hope they don't always fall back on Dilla, because that will feel like we're being cheated; for now, Carte Blanche remains a respectful homage.












Telegram! - Disjointed, Unnerving, and Continuous (I'm Not Going Outside Today) (Self-released, 2007)

Telegram! - "Message for You, Sir" EP / Self-released

It was a toss-up between Apparat and Telegram!. Call me a favoritist, but I went with the guy I knew personally over the German engineering maestro that you'll likely be reading about here next week anyway (as we use tons of excuses to talk up Apparat and all things remotely Bpitch Control-related). So I'll tell you a little story: I just got this EP from a friend of mine, one John Murray, and he's the man behind Telegram!. Murray's a man of beats as he'll readily tell you, and as I know him personally, I think explaining a little bit about his personality will help you better understand not just this particular song but the EP as a whole.

The man gets his bills paid and his business done partly because he always needs stuff to keep him occupied. Music has proven to be a successful way for him to do that, and it shows on Message for You, Sir because, even though there are seven songs on his debut, none of them run over four minutes and you can find everything from the flittering, fluttering helicopter beat that happens to be a personal favorite of mine here on the ungainly titled "Disjointed, Unnerving, and Continuous (I'm Not Going Outside Today)" to a pseudo-Genghis Tron cop on "Joanna Whitmire" to a track akin to subtractiveLAD on "Milestones and a History of Ups and Downs." The focus is that there is none: Anything can happen next, and though it's all vaguely in honor of Fruit Loops and the possibilities thereof, you never know how that's going to be translated.

One thing Murray likes using is samples. I must confess to also being a sucker for a well-placed snippet from an old film or political diatribe, just to spice things up (and perhaps this explains my love for From Monument to Masses, but that's neither here nor there). Though not all songs are based on a sample, frequently it feels like a song is constructed either around or through one. I don't often promote locals but, let's face it, Chicago is like four times the size of Columbia so I don't get as much of a chance to. Even still, there's always bound to be something humming beneath the streets in a college town, and in the case of the University of South Carolina's infamous catacombs, it's electro that lurks beneath the smiling faces and bland jock-rock and easy breezy acoustic strumming of a Saturday night Starbucks solo artist. Message for you, sirs and madams alike: Murray is a fly-by-night kinda guy, so if you're into fetching this for yourself, hit up his MySpace and let him know. Sharing is caring and that's what we're here for: You. Cheers.

New Music: Fred Anderson & Hamid Drake, Opsvik & Jennings

Fred Anderson & Hamid Drake - For Brother Thompson (Thrill Jockey 2007)

Fred Anderson & Hamid Drake – From the River to the Ocean / Thrill Jockey

If you have absolutely any interest in jazz and have spent any significant time in Chicago in the last decade, chances are pretty damn good that you have experienced the fascinating one-two spiritual jazz punch of saxophonist Fred Anderson and percussionist Hamid Drake. Anderson, hunched over his tenor, utilizing every ounce of breath in his nearly 80-year-old lungs creates a thick, transcendent tone; and behind him, nearly hidden behind his array of percussive knicks and ringing knacks, Drake, usually with eyes closed and head passionately swaying, somehow finds an even, conclusive rhythm despite never relying on one drum or percussive toy for more than a minute or two. In the city that acted as the catalyst for the original evolution of jazz, Anderson and Drake keep the tradition alive and breathing for what seems like on a nightly basis, all the while incorporating practically every developmental step along the way: blues, swing, bop, modal, free, avant-garde and modern creative, all meshing into one spiritual sound.

Despite Anderson’s age and commitment to running The Velvet Lounge (of which he has now been keeping the open sign brightly lit for 25 years and running) and Drake’s dedication to a ridiculous amount of ensembles worldwide, they have found time to release at least one album a year working together since 1995. And even more remarkable, there has not been one lackluster or forgettable disc among them. Well 2007’s installment, From the River to the Ocean, is certainly not going to dispel this long-running tradition, and in fact is going to place itself near the top of the must-have list of Anderson-Drake partnerships. Recorded in John McEntire’s Soma Studios and featuring the instrumental prowess of fellow Chicagoans Harrison Bankhead (8 Bold Souls, Frequency), Jeff Parker (Tortoise, Isotope 217, Chicago Underground) and Josh Abrams (Town and Country, Sticks and Stones, Prefuse 73), From the River to the Ocean honestly approaches A Love Supreme territory. While it may be a clichéd parallel, it is nearly impossible not to have the thought at least briefly cross your mind with this mix of accessible free jazz, African instrumentation and spiritual resonance.

The centerpiece of this album, their second on Chicago’s Thrill Jockey, is undeniably “Strut Time.” The 20+ minute track shows off the talents of each performer involved by letting instrumental duals push the song along. After a brief defining solo from Anderson, the theme is stated and the first push-pull duet is between Anderson’s patient yet driving tenor and Bankhead on cello. They interweave tones with grace while Drake, Parker and Abrams lay down a subtle, grooving rhythm. After the halfway mark, everyone gets a moment in the spotlight, first Parker’s highly melodic electric guitar, then a scathing outburst from Bankhead, followed by a head-nodding bass line run from Abrams and finally Drake unleashes his rhythm-destroying arms for an all-too-short drum solo. The final few minutes returns to the song’s musical theme in a classic exhibition of jazz talent.

Opening the album is “Planet E,” a double-bass display of propulsive modern creative. Bankhead and Abrams sit on opposite sides of your speakers, each teasing and tantalizing your ears with somehow cohesive rhythmic interaction, while Drake continually builds up from light percussive momentum to a full drum onslaught before coming full-circle by song’s end. The melodic drive is first taken by Parker with the kind of guitar work that made Tortoise so hypnotizing, which is then quickly overshadowed by Anderson’s mature, exploring sax. He seems to be testing the waters to see if this group of young guns can keep up with his storied playing (p.s. they can).

The Love Supreme echo is most strongly heard on the album’s final three tracks, “For Brother Thompson,” “Sakti/Shiva” and the title track. The first of the trio, an ode to colleague and AACM trumpeter Malachi Thompson, opens with shimmering wind chimes, Bankhead providing deeply resonant, interjecting acoustic piano and Drake chanting in Arabic. The modal, heavily meditative track opens up further with Anderson’s aching tenor and the testing, seemingly improvised percussion that has defined Drake’s entire career. To say the very least, it is deeply soulful. Abrams moves to a guimbri for the final two tracks, a Moroccan instrument that while looking somewhat and played much like a guitar, provides a deep, percussive sound much like a pizzicato cello creating an ancient African vibe. To further instill this emotion, during the title track Drake also picks up a frame drum (pictured on the album’s cover), one of the oldest membranophones known today. After a brief, very primal sounding introduction, Parker reminds us that this is present day with his tantalizing electric guitar, which eventually gives way to Bankhead’s bowed bass and sax interjections all being played over rich tones of polyrhythm. The final track is left for Anderson, his exacting, full-throated sax heartily resonating over a subtle giumbri rhythm.

I am going to go ahead and chalk this up as an entry into my Top 10 of 2007 and dare to say it will probably go down as the best jazz album of the year. The bridging of generations both between the players and between jazz of the 60s/early 70s and today is wonderfully executed. Anderson, though quickly approaching his 80th birthday, sounds as youthful as ever through his soulful tenor and Drake continually amazes us with his highly detailed rhythms. From the River to the Ocean is a deeply spiritual jazz album that proves such music is still very much alive and effective. Though it may be a long shot, forty years down the line we very well may be talking about how this album has aged with grace and increasing emotional power in the same manner we speak of A Love Supreme today.






Opsvik & Jennings - Port Authority (Rune Grammofon 2007)

Opsvik & Jennings – Commuter Anthems / Rune Grammofon

The morning commute, your daily transition from homelife to worklife. It is a transition that we all experience but remains completely idiosyncratic and can be very different depending on your geographic locale. Growing up in South Carolina, commuting to work meant weaving highway traffic and Podunk country roads. Now living in Chicago’s bustling metropolis, it is quite different with considerably widened options ranging from the death-defying bicycle rides to packing in uncomfortably close to strangers on the El train to strolling the storefronts and alleyways. Any way you may experience it, the commute is a necessary transition that separates your two most significant life bubbles, work and home, and along with the physical separation, acts as an important mental detachment from each of your personal worlds. Here in the city, those omniscient white ear buds seem to be the entertainment of choice for the many commuters, which I have mixed feelings about. While soundtracking the trip with music can bring interesting new viewpoints to both your local surroundings and your tunes of choice, ipodders do lose the pleasure of the random ambient noise of life, which is the most interesting music we are subjected to, hands down. International duo Opsvik & Jennings look to bridge these two aural worlds with Commuter Anthems, creating an environmental soundtrack using acoustic and electronic instrumentation. It plucks and blips and bobbles seemingly paying homage to the random ambiance around us every weekday morning while also creating something melodious we can enjoy in that transitional process.

This is the second full-length release for Eivind Opsvik and Aaron Jennings, and they are pushing their sound in a more acoustical direction from their earlier work but still utilizing that skittering, stuttering laptop-pop aesthetic in the process. Both multi-instrumentalists are coming from a jazz background, so there is a definite underlying free jazz and modern creative ideal, but Commuter Anthems is much more accessible than either of those genre descriptions typically denote. Jennings (guitars, lap steel, banjo, concertina, vocals, software) is an experimental pop musician by way of a free jazz and electronica background. The Tulsa, Oklahoma native and software enthusiast relocated to New York City after his college career and began purveying a number of musical projects before hooking up with Opsvik. Hailing from Oslo, Norway (hence Commuter Anthems being released on Rune Grammafon, a genre-less label dedicated to creative Norwegian artists ranging from the arctic electronica of Biosphere to the Zappa-influenced avant-metal of Shining to the cinematic trumpet player Arve Henrisken), Opsvik (bass, drums, percussion, piano, organ, Theremin, vocals, software) also now calls New York home and has been a part of a number of experimental NYC groups in the last decade including Eivind Opsvik Overseas, Kris Davis Quartet and David Binney’s Out of Airplanes (with Bill Frisell) amongst others.

Together, Opsvik & Jennings come up with a sound that draws from their free jazz backgrounds while infusing hearty doses of rural genres like folk and country along with laptop-pop, ambient and Norwegian electronica. They take the commuter theme to heart and act as if they are soundtracking your daily window gazing by substituting all of the passing landscapes with warm acoustics. Sometimes it is more sparse, rural environments like on “Lorinda Sea” with meandering brass squiggles bridging streets of electronic piano teeters, lapsteel wisps, banjo plucking, cello sighs and light, free jazz percussion. And sometimes, as with “I’ll Scrounge Along,” it has a much more urban vibe with the loose cool jazz bass line and kit beat which continually layers up with hand claps, percussion and electronic tinges. Songs like “Silverlake” and “The Last Country Village” sound much more influenced by the Norwegian landscapes with the rolling hills and floral decoration of acoustic guitar, lap steel, glockenspiel and Theremin melodies. Think The Books elaborating on a Boats song as played by The Cinematic Orchestra: sparse, patient, melodious, buoyant and freewheeling.

I do not listen to music during my morning commute (I mean c’mon, I’m surrounded by it constantly and need at least a few moments to enjoy the natural sounds of the world), but if I did have a pair of those white earbuds, Commuter Anthems would be a charming and relaxing introduction to the day ahead.

Radio Show Playlist 4/25

6a:
1. Sleater-Kinney - All Hands on the Bad One - All Hands on the Bad One (Kill Rock Stars 2000)
2. Welcome - First - Sirs (FatCat 2007)
3. Vietnam - Hotel Riverview - Welcome to My Room EP (Kemado 2006)
4. Bill Callahan - Sycamores - Woke Up on a Whaleheart (Drag City 2007)
5. Freakwater - Gravity - Old Paint (Thrill Jockey 1995)
6. Paul Duncan - The Fire - Above the Trees (Hometapes 2007)
7. Occidental Brothers Dance Band International - Nyarai - Occidental Brothers Dance Band International (self-released 2006)
8. Vieux Farka Toure - Ana - Vieux Farka Toure (World Village 2007)
9. Jimmy Cliff - You Can Get It If Your Really Want - The Harder They Come (Mango 1971)
10. Marcia Griffiths - Gypsy Man - Jonny Greenwood is the Controller (Trojan 2007, recorded 1974)
11. Big Youth - Chi Chi Run - Chi Chi Run (Melodisc 1972)
12. The Eternals - High Anxiety - Out of Proportion EP (Antifaz 2005)

7a:
1. Skeletons & the Kings of All Cities - Hay W'Happens - Lucas (Ghostly International 2007)
2. Andrew Hill - Plantation Bag - Passing Ships (Blue Note 2003, recorded 1969)
3. Wayne Shorter - Water Babies - Super Nova (Blue Note 1969)
4. (((Powerhouse Sound))) - Old Dictionary (for Bernie Worrell) - Oslo/Chicago: (((Breaks))) (Atavistic 2007)
5. Fred Anderson & Hamid Drake - For Brother Thompson - From the River to the Ocean (Thrill Jockey 2007)
6. The Books - Tokyo - Lemon of Pink (Tomlab 2003)
7. Prefuse 73 - Oh Linda, You Lit Up My Life with Your Voice and Made Me Fall in Love with You - Dublab Presents: In the Loop 2 (Plug Research 2005)
8. Cornelius - Fit Song - Sensuous (Everloving 2007)
9. Slicker - Knock Me Down Girl - We All Have a Plan (Hefty 2004)

New Music: True Primes, Mammatus

True Primes - We Have Won (Locust 2007)

True Primes - We Have Won / Locust

"Shambolic" is an under-used term in the American language. Of course the British use it properly, it is their language after all. For example: "Liverpool's defense was utterly shambolic on the night". Its all a shambles, a total mess, not really functioning like it should. We get so used to things functioning like way they should. Often times concision becomes too expected in music as well, even supposed surprises fall within the spectrum of expectation. Everything comes so totally stylized nowadays, even the truest of black metal bands adhere to a narrow form and yeah, that Prurient record is really brutal but thats what I expected. We Have Won, the first proper release from this Brooklyn duo, almost sounds like a total accident, songs slowly soldiering on, the drums at times kinda off, dark turns coming out of nowhere, not just challenging typical forms but conceptions of what "released" music should sound like.

Alot of music is amorphous, totally capable of flipping the script, and I'm not arguing against Kid606-like curveballs but even sometimes even the deftest maneuvers come off contrived. True Primes don't have any tricks. If anything the band sounds like a bird learning how to fly. Certain parts sound out of place or incomplete to my overlearned ear. Its all endearingly raw, coming off more spontaneous than jazz dudes diving into impenetrable theory. These songs are strung together by feeling, sounding more like the perfect practice sesh caught on tape than anything at all premeditated.

The title track has a listening-in feel, like hearing your neighbor's band practice next door. Tentative interplay between guitar and drums with slight humming sounds like maybe we started listening too soon or they started the tape too soon or something. Its all kinda uneasy hearing these two musicians find an understanding. The floating, intimate vocals of Rolyn Hu and chaotic musical underbelly provided in part by Che Chin reminding me alot of Jandek's classic, "Nancy Sings". "In The Surf" starts off like a sloppy beach party beat, everyone dancing in stop-motion, the drums persisting ever more erratic as it fights against waves of ominous synth. Here once again is the wonderful interplay between Hu and Chin, this time Hu's vocals taking on some Yoko Ono-type theatrics, and near the seven minute mark morphing into what the Magik Markers might sound like on a particularly good Valentine's Day. "13 Houses" is another loosely strung gem and showcases True Primes' penchant for pop experimentation. Hu's processed vocals sound otherworldly along a bed of warm electronics and that slow, unsteady beat that by this point is totally welcomed, like a good friend or a strong liquor shot on a cold day. "We Have Won (Reprise)" closes the record nicely, a delicate number that brings to mind Galaxie 500 at their best.

So its nice to think this is all accidental, amateurish stuff, and hopefully it is, but the True Prime's We Have Won asks a good many questions about listener assumptions. These songs wander with purpose, finding incredible heights in the awkward, fresh outta the box feeling of being in a new band, and its fun watching them find their feet, always stepping in the direction of something great. Also, its worth it to note Che Chen is the founder of the O'Sirhan Sirhan zine and Rolyn Hu curates Brooklyn's Glassland Gallery, a definite hotspot for artland vortex activities.





Mammatus - The Changing Wind (Holy Mountain 2007)

Mammatus - The Coast Explodes / Holy Mountain

"Behold the power of my wizard staff!"? God, how did I get here? Maybe it was the exposure to mind-expanding visions of alternate worlds, from Legend to He-Man, at a time when such odd things wedge themselves in deep, dark corners of the brain, only to come flooding back in adolescence and adulthood. I still get hit with an odd wave of attraction to comic book stores and the World of Warcraft because these things strike deep chords. Its all idealized, yeah, Brody from Mallrats embodies a worthy rolemodel in my mind, and I know its just a way of prolonging childhood, but geeking out is a true link to childish enthusiasm, a vital trait typically ground into submission by the weight of the world.

Mammatus is a band keeping it real. Live footage of the band could easily be settled in a northern California commune circa 1970, the band clad in trippy robes, donned only when the moon is right to conjure the right spirits. But this is the here and now, Mammatus claim Corralitos, CA as home, a metropolis of 2,500 people located in progressive Santa Cruz County, a place where marijuana is virtually decriminalized. Despite sounding like a mystical beast, the band's name actually refers to mammatus clouds, breathtaking monster cloud formation often appearing after tornadoes, looking like a celestial battleground protruding into the earthly realm.

The Coast Explodes is a panegyric to the sea. Recorded in the last throes of summer 2006 after a lengthy US tour, this record is Mammatus recharging their collective battery, jump-starting their souls in the spiritual homeland, delivering a sonic homage to God's mighty ocean. "Dragon of the Deep Pt. 3" opens the record with a twelve minute jam, burning at both ends with the rugged groove of the first six minutes or so, dual guitar leads riding a thick, precise Can-like bass groove. This track brings to mind a good many reference points; Sabbath, Hawkwind, Sleep, Molly Hatchet, all the sleeveless rock-n-roll glory is present here. Vocals kick in almost ten minutes deep, some whirlpool wizard rising from the depths to speak directly with a ghostly full moon. "Pierce the Darkness" exhibits the band's tightness, sounding like Soft Machine sitting around the desert with Matt Pike, the song eventually giving way once more to skyward looking twin guitar solos, this time evoking the warm washes of Growing with the slight twist of Slash's windswept solo in "November Rain". "The Changing Wind" is there suddenly, taking you to a peephole deep within a coastal cave. Druidly vocals echo off cavernous walls, somewhere a fire is burning, druids dancing ceremoniously around the flame, complete with their own master flutist, the meeting ending abruptly by an invasion of sea lions. The title track wraps up the record, another twelve minute behemoth, dirging heavier than anything else on the album, veering into Sleep-like inertia, slowly unfolding with the certainty of colliding glaciers.

Be sure to catch this band of marauding rock-n-roll explorers on tour this spring with Acid Mothers Temple. I caught the show in Asheville with both bands in majestic form. Watch out for the wizard staff!! And also be wary of Acid Mothers' ability to totally alter your outlook on life. Go see, hear, and feel this stuff live! You can be the rocky California shore to Mammatus' crashing waves of sound.

New Music: Alex Delivery, Lifesavas

Alex Delivery - Milan (Jagjaguwar 2007)

Alex Delivery – Star Destroyer / Jagjaguwar

It is going to be very hard for anyone to talk about Alex Delivery’s debut album on Jagjaguwar without dropping the krautrock tag. Mostly because the New York-based quintet purvey the genre so well and have created an album that sounds as if it could have actually been made in the early 70s if it weren’t so crisply produced and layered so densely. While being immersed in the rhythmic river of psychedelic sounds that band together to form Star Destroyer, it is very hard to not continually think back to names like Can and Faust and Neu!. But do not necessarily think of Alex Delivery as a cover band, they wrap up the metallic maelstrom in warm melodies and hypnotic vibrations making this debut album a very promising start to their budding career.

There are three main tracks to Star Destroyer: “Komad,” “Milan” and “Sheath-Wet,” which each clock in around the 10-minute mark and mesh and mold in what can only be described as a molten metal myriad of music. “Komad” opens the disc with a slightly dubbed-out rhythm of what sounds like two sheets of scrap metal being scraped together, but what is probably an analog synthesizer with the high frequencies tweaked to hell. This is really the only consistent sound throughout the song as it drives through three stages of rhythmic cacophony. Stage one consists of a thunderous one-two snare-cymbal beat, a deeply sparse bass bounce and warbling vocal coos. It builds up consistently before ebbing away into stage two, which brings in a new barrage of analog synth grooves and spacey sound effects. At one point any semblance of rock melts away into a robo-dance floor track that Arthur Russell would merrily drop the needle on. But the metallic abrasions scrap on and stage three is a bellowing of factory disco with one keyboard after another taking the lead before coming full circle and dissolving into a pleasant piano melody.

“Milan” kicks off with washes of scrapped synth sounds breaking on a delicate shore of almost orchestral hums. It quickly opens into a krautrock groove of distant cowbell clatter, bass pulses and deeply reverberating keyboard melodies. Mid-point through the song, you enter into the most soothing span of the record with the abrasions taking a quick coffee break for the warm synths to effervesce together. All the while, the rattle of a vintage roller coaster seems to clatter around in the background; the screams of adventurous joy at that first demanding hill really take the melodramatic melodies to a whole new level. Everything is layered to perfection and it opens up a much softer side to Alex Delivery, one we can appreciate both that they have the talents for and that they keep continually just off-stage so we do not get lost in soap opera post-rock.

The third of our concentrated trifecta is “Sheath-Wet,” which returns to “Komad” and Faust territory. With a heavy emphasis on the drum kit, the rest of the music swells in bubbles of psychedelic turmoil. One second it is carnival keyboards that take center-stage and then sing-along choruses and then industrial ambience. The continual turnover of musical concentration really keeps the song interesting, a characteristic that a lot of krautrock purveying acts fail to take a grasp of. While “Sheat-Wet” most certainly rides a mechanical rhythm that seemingly could only arise from German factories, everything around it is extraterrestrial and nearly impossible to decipher. I am not sure where these kids scrounged up their barrage of analog synthesizers (perhaps they mugged Nettelbeck himself), but they make for a wonderfully classic sounding album in Star Destroyer.

It seems like Jagjaguwar has once again scored a great addition to their already impressive line-up of odd-but-hypnotic sounding bands. You can go ahead and chalk up Alex Delivery next to Oneida, Parts & Labor and Wilderness as the go-to set of modern experimental rock that owes a lot to the heyday of the genre, but certainly carves out a path all their own. So if you are down for a hearty helping of krautrock, musique conrète, space rock, electro-organic mutations and a little bit of industrial disco, go ahead and pick up Star Destroyer because you will not be disappointed. As for me, I’m hitting up the tour schedule, because I very much want to experience this carnival synth maelstrom in person.






Lifesavas - Night Out ft. George Clinton & Mega*Nut (Quannum 2007)

Lifesavas – Gutterfly / Quannum

The current rap scene is at an interesting crossroads. In the late 90s it stemmed a very potent and discernable underground with a number of labels taking advantage of an audience growing bored with the increasingly mundane mainstream. Stones Throw, Mush, Anticon, Solesides/Quannum, Rhymesayers and Def Jux all made a living off pushing the genre into new directions, challenging their audiences and not really giving a fuck what the masses were eating up. A decade later and that very same audience all of a sudden is starting to take notice. No longer do you have to sit up all night listening to college radio or paging through specialized zines, all the information you need on up-and-coming rappers is easily accessible via the internet and the entire music game has been rapidly changing (duh). Madlib and Aesop Rock are household names, Anticon has turned to new genres to keep themselves on their toes, the mainstream is for some reason obsessed with nerd-hop, goddamn Kanye West is a superstar (sigh), and the underground is far from being actually underground. The original rebellious tributary is reconnecting with the rushing river, and elements that were only heard on one side of the spectrum are intermingling as one. Lifesavas, a Portland-based rap duo is pretty good proof of this; they are dropping their sophomore album some four years after their very underground-centric debut and without some biographical knowledge, you wouldn’t be able to tell whose team they are playing for.

For better or worse, Lifesavas is very much a Quannum rap group. They are descendents of the cerebral back-and-forth banter of Latyrx and directly building off the Blackalicious sound; hell, they were discovered and mentored by Chief Xcel himself. And though their musical foundation of buoyant West Coast funk is stronger than ever (which is pretty hard to hate on), Jumbo the Garbageman and Vursatyl are mixing up their flow and adding a little bite to their bark (Jurassic 5 regretfully headed in the opposite direction). As a creative catalyst, the NoW (thanks Patrick) duo along with DJ/producer Shines have created the soundtrack to the long-lost blaxploitation film Gutterfly that truth be told is completely made up itself. Is this theme necessary? No, but I can imagine it was a lot of fun to make and it’s hard to hate on some creativity, so we’ll play along. In the film, Portland is known as Razorblade City, Jumbo is Sleepy Floyd, Vursatyl is Bumby Johnson and Shines is Jimmy Slimwater, though for the most part I’m going to ignore those names because monikers of monikers is just too damn confusing.

Though the theme is fun and “scenes” narrated by Ike Willis do string a loose narrative together, the actual songs would pretty much stand strongly on their own thanks to muscular rhythmic flow and inventive, well produced music. Like their debut, the decent but forgettable Spirit in Stone, Lifesavas purvey a socially conscious brand of rap, but Gutterfly thankfully adds a degree of grit to keep the cheese level bearable. Not to mention the boys have rounded up a good amount of big name friends to help further develop their sound. On the production side of things, Jumbo handles the majority, but Oh No, Jake One, Vitamin D and DJ Rev Shines all contribute significantly, along with instrumental help from Living Colour’s Vernon Reid, Fishbone’s Angelo Moore and even The Decemberists’ Chris Funk (no doubt a relationship formed from both calling Razorblade Ci… er, Portland home). Helping Vursatyl with mic duties are notable but aged acts like Camp Lo, Dead Prez and Smif-‘n’-Wessun. Since Lifesavas are definitely riding a classic rap tip on Gutterfly, they all sound in their element and their contributions are warranted.

So, as you can see, the back-story has eaten up the majority of this review, and like the album itself, it takes a little away from some of the great tracks hidden beneath the concepts, themes and notable guests. After an excellent contribution from Stone Thrower Oh No on “Double Up,” the album doesn’t really find its stride until “Dead Ones” about halfway through. Angelo Moore’s horn arrangements help lift a mediocre song into excellent territory, taking it on a rap-meets-The Specials trip. “Superburn” excels in that it sounds so radio-friendly without losing that underground edge, which leads to the album highlight, “Night Out.” George Clinton, yessir George Mother-fucking-Ship Connection, contributes growling vocals to grind beneath a subdued electro-funk track while some cat regrettably named Mega*Nut spits a quirky narrative in between a Parliament derived chorus. It sounds mostly like something Outkast would produce, and that is absolutely a compliment. The rest of the album wanes a bit, but hidden at the very end is the excellent “Tailormade Razorbladez,” which bumps along oddly Wu-like giving a brief nod to the always fun martial arts film.

Gutterfly excels in the current state of middle-ground rap. It owes as much to Blackalicious as it does Outkast, and will please fans of both. The well-versed theme is a fun addition, but somewhat unnecessary, and on occasion quality tracks get lost in the muddled hour of music you have here. But this is definitely one of the strongest albums I have heard out of the NoW scene, one which I have not been pleased enough with to embrace. So if you are a hip-hop fan, especially one looking to find a throwbackish album, I would give Gutterfly a good listen, because Lifesavas may be what you are looking for no matter if you are coming from the mainstream or underground.

Used-Bin Bargains: Andrew Hill - Passing Ships

R.I.P. Andrew Hill 1931-2007



Andrew Hill - Plantation Bag (Blue Note 2003, recorded 1969)

Andrew Hill – Passing Ships / Blue Note

"If musicians are just trying to be different, but don’t have a synergy with the audience, they have nothing."

Perfectly stated Mr. Hill. I respect and very much enjoy the avant-garde, but for me to be completely immersed in it rather than just gaping from afar, I need an accessible point of entry. This is why the late-60s are my go to point for jazz. The musicians were once again growing tired of the confines of what was becoming the norm (this time post-bop) and teasing it into new, typically atonal and experimental directions. By the time we get into the first few years of the 70s, the exploration had progressed so far that most free jazz was completely void of any relatable structure at all. And while I completely respect and understand the need for such music, I’d much rather experience it live than in a recorded setting. Andrew Hill greatly understood this aspect of musical balance. A composer first, the groundbreaking pianist built his compositions up from a post-bop foundation and took them on experimental trips that were heavily laced in spontaneity and sophistication. His music was certainly free, but with respect for the listener. Hill passed away Friday morning of lung cancer in his Jersey City home; he was 75. Passing Ships was on my to-get-to list for this column anyways, so it seems most appropriate to take a look at this excellent 1969 album now.

A Chicago native, Andrew Hill began playing the piano in his very early teens and was spurred on by “the first modern jazz pianist,” Earl Hines. The promising youngster was schooled both by local jazz composer Bill Russo and German classical composer Paul Hindemith, whose own style of combining neo-classicisms with jazz elements no doubt had a significant impact on Hill. As the 50s rolled on, he gigged regularly throughout the Midwest, gaining experience by sharing the stage with such bop luminaries as Charlie Parker and a young Miles Davis among many others, not to mention Chicago folks like Art Ensemble bassist Malachi Favors and hard-bop saxophonist Von Freeman. Before even out of his teens, Hill was composing original songs, but his era of most renowned creativity did not begin until 1963 after traveling to both coasts working with singer Dinah Washington and a no doubt influential stint in Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s band. Hill caught the ear of Alfred Lion during Blue Note’s waning years as a jazz powerhouse, and was signed in 1963 as part of their avant-garde movement (which when looked at in contrast to the early 70s avant-garde scene is really just slightly more exploratory post-bop). Lion referred to him as his “last great protégé.” From 1963-1970, Hill officially released a number of revered albums through Blue Note working with the cream of the forward-thinking post-bop crop, including Eric Dolphy, Bobby Hutcherson, Joe Henderson, Freddie Hubbard, Elvin Jones, Tony Williams, Richard Davis and John Gilmore. Frequent go-to points in his discography include 1964’s Judgement! and Point of Departure and 1965’s Compulsion.

Interestingly enough though, some of his accomplished works crafted in this era didn’t see the light of day until many years after their original completion. Passing Ships, recorded in November of 1969, was not rightfully released until just a few years ago after the master tapes were found in 2001. You may wonder how the hell this got left on the cutting room floor listening to it now, but looking at Blue Note’s state of debauchery in 1969, it makes much more sense. Lion had retired in 1967, Hill’s tenure was all but over, and the label, purchased by Liberty Records, was questioning the commercial viability of jazz (sigh) and heading toward populist funk. So Passing Ships, despite Hill’s advanced conceptual compositions and a nonet of acclaimed musicians including bassist Ron Carter, trumpeters Woody Shaw and Dizzy Reece, trombonist Julian Priester, French horn player Bob Northern, a very young Lenny White on drums and multi-instrumentalists Howard Johnson and Joe Farrell, did just as the title foreshadowed, drifted past into 34 years of obscurity.

One of the great aspects of Passing Ships is the way it is architecturally pieced together. There is a definite concern for spatial relationships, not just tonal or rhythmic. Hill will push the drums, miked from afar for one complete sound rather than each individual piece of the kit, to one side, then pull his patient, Monk-without-the-fire-of-relative-insanity piano to the other. Farrell, on which ever of his instruments (bass clarinet, alto flute, English horn, soprano and tenor sax) he decides to pick up at that moment will flurry from the left-center while Shaw and Reece’s trumpets cock and weave from the right-center. And of course, Carter, though maybe not at his most potent, plucks away from the center and fully rounds out the sound. If listened to in the right mindset, you can practically walk directly into the session, pull up a chair in the core of the semi-circle and enjoy the music coming to life around you. The barrage of finely toned instrumentation and Hill’s masterful arranging makes Passing Ships a pleasure to experience whether you are looking for an exploratory post-bop album or a very accessible free jazz one.

With the number of players and diverse instrumentation, the typical classification for such an album is progressive big band, but I feel this is slightly misleading. It sits at a comfortable mid-point between being a BIG band and a small ensemble; you get the structural possibilities of a larger number of players with varying talents, like the… er… cascading harmonies of “Cascade,” but the intimacy of a song like “Passing Ships,” which concentrates more on each player’s soloing over the piano/bass/drum groove without losing Hill’s masterful piano work in the mix. There is also a great deal of exoticism to the album, again thanks to the large color palette especially provided by Farrell’s ability to pick up a slew of different instrumentation and the low end augmentations on the tuba and bass clarinet by Johnson. The longer pieces, “Passing Ships,” “Plantation Bag,” and “Noon Tide” prove the most rewarding as Hill guides them through many passages from jazz-funk to free to post-bop to modern creative. Passing Ships may not be looked at as Hill’s quintessential creation, but it is an inventive, distinctive and highly enjoyable piece of music sorely overlooked for three decades that is absolutely worth your listening time.

Hill had two separate resuscitations of his career, both with short stints once again releasing material on Blue Note: the first in 1989 and the second just recently with 2006’s Time Lines being highly revered by critics everywhere. In between these times of recorded resurgence, he spent his time in academia, teaching at Portland State University and Colgate University as well as public schools and even prisons throughout California. Hill was also a rarity in the jazz world because of his widely regarded gentle and kind spirit and notable sanity. He may have shared artistic genius with many jazz greats, but not the usual personal demons that so often accompany it, which for better or worse also probably kept his legacy from sparking potentially widespread interest (the crazier the more interesting the story). Either way, jazz and musical in general lost a great artistic force in Andrew Hill on Friday morning, and if you haven’t explored his discography before now, it is as good of a time as any to enter his majestic aural world.

Singleversity #7

Audiversity’s weekly column on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 134.

(Ed. - Originally this was called Threeversity, but in the spirit of simplicity we've decided to retroactively relabel all of these posts. The content remains unchanged.)

MA:
(#134 of a random playlist generated from my ever-changing database of 12,500+ songs)



I was admittedly a latecomer to the quirky world of Mark Linkous, but the dreamy bubbling pop of 2006’s Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain was just too hard to ignore. Tracks like "Shade and Honey" are the exact reason adjectives like--well bubbling--jump to mind when talking about Sparklehorse’s music. I mean just listen to that keyboard; the fucker is practically effervescing. And that bassline teeters and totters with subdued playfulness as Linkous’s voice rides that very thin line between creepy and cute. Oh, and those wavering synth nodes and the delicate xylophone tapping and the soothing cello coo… this is the exact definition of dream pop. Yes, the song is relatively straightforward and not really that challenging, but I have enough to compete with while I’m awake.

JR:



Italo disco to the max! I live for this shit. Its fun to see results of America's cultural hegemony, in this case our lock on global music initiative, disco being hurled by a giant red-white-n-blue laser catapult over to Italia, a land ready to receive the total decadence of cocaine-fueled dance marathons. Italo disco is such a sparkling example of filtered American culture, its familiar signifiers just a little off; instead of Donna Summer, we have Valerie Dore. Forget the Bee-Gees, Paul Sharada struts around in a suit so "none more white" that he is visible from space as a luminescent dot broadcasting live from Miami's swankest discos. Florida (Move Your Feet) is about the passion of dance, Sharada expounding in wonderfully-broken English all the ties that bind.

PM:









Not too much education this week unless you’re one of those kids always flipping off people behind their backs after they tell you to “respect your elders:” Public Image Ltd. was post-punk genesis and a detailed depiction, better than any I could write, is provided in the book “Rip it Up and Start Again.” Aside from one of last year’s much-heralded Canadian super-groups (not to mention a legendary Tchaikovsky ballet), “Swan Lake” is the third track from 1979’s impenetrable Metal Box. When speaking of post-punk, it’s easy to yap about Gang of Four, Joy Division or even Wire, the British Big Three… But overshadowing them all is the true giant among giants, PiL. “Swan Lake” is a personal favorite: Screeching guitar, hyperdub basslines, a warbling John Lydon. The final great revolution in music? Well...

New Music: Sage Francis, The Saturday Knights

Sage Francis - Keep Moving (Epitaph 2007)

Sage Francis - Human the Death Dance / Epitaph

Brother Ali may be the great white ghost of underground hip-hop, Slug may be the masterful Lucy-chasing mohawker, and Saul Williams may be its slam poet du jour, but only Sage Francis is the jack of all trades when it comes to the "underground." Francis is the biggest name in the underground partly because he has been the most influential crossover poet, a maestro raised on Dean College communications and Rhode Island U. journalism, a killer wordsmith bred on freestyle battles and a Scribble Jam title for cred. The Anticon collective may have the final say in experimentation, but Sage is the only one born for the people with a conscience that doesn't revolve around bling n' bullets.

If you've missed this guy and you're remotely interested in hip-hop that extends beyond the realm of Mims or T.I., you're not remotely interested in hip-hop. Whether or not you like the guy, there's little doubt he's made an impact even if it's only ripples in the great pond of popular music: Thanks in large part to 2001's too-soon(?) "Makeshift Patriot," Francis gained a legion of supporters and won respect from an audience that had largely been built through Internet file-trading, word-of-mouth hype and self-released solo albums. When it hit the shelves on Punk-O-Rama 8, 15-year-old antiestablishmentarianists everywhere had their eyes opened. Francis became the new Pennywise.

Enough has happened in the interim to merit a further discourse, but the moral of the story is that, through the last appearance of the nine-member Wu-Tang Clan and A Healthy Distrust and the first hip-hop artist signed to Epitaph, Francis is a hit. He's got a universal appeal with lyrical prowess that is rarely equalled as consistently. Human the Death Dance is no different: Two albums in to his three-album deal with the Epitaph crew, there remains some debate as to whether Francis is still on the ascent. The verdict from this guy? Best yet.

Frankly, I'm not much a fan of the album title right off the bat. That's just me though, and there at least is an explanation for it: Sage has his own label, Strange Famous, and Buddy Wakefield is a spoken-word poet on it. Excerpts from a work entitled "Human the Death Dance" are included here at the end of "Keep Moving" and "Hell of a Year" with Wakefield doing the legwork. Those aren't necessarily the strongest points of this album, but they certainly are fine examples of how Sage has stepped up his game for this one. The production is sublime and, together with another strong set of words strung together as only Sage can, it's one of hip-hop's better albums this year.

Production is good partly because the people behind it are good. No coincidence that standouts like "Underground for Dummies" or "Midgets and Giants" or "Going Back to Rehab" are produced by knob-twiddling fiends like Odd Nosdam, Alias and Tom Inhaler. Yeah, there's even a Buck 65 track in "Got Up This Morning" that has Jolie Holland fiddling around on it. Lucky that backing vocals are about as far as anyone ever goes on Sage's albums, because the man can do all the work himself. He needs no support. He's a one-man army. He should probably stick to keeping the collaborations on other people's albums. People who are weaker than him, in other words.

After all that praise, it must then come as some irony that my only complaint with Human the Death Dance is that at 54 minutes it still feels a little long. Maybe it's because Francis packs in so much so quickly, or maybe it's because by "Call Me Francois" I'm rolling my eyes at Godspeed! You Black Emperor namedrops instead of smirking at them; whatever the case, it's a minor drawback. I mean, hell, this is the best one he's yet had. Who the fuck am I to complain? Take it in small doses. Take it in large doses. Just take it. You'll be glad you did.













The Saturday Knights - The Gospel (Light in the Attic 2007)

The Saturday Knights - The Saturday Knights EP / Light in the Attic

To say that Seattle is a "burgeoning" hip-hop hotspot would be stupid. It's not, because it's always been good, right back to... Uh, Sir Mix-a-Lot... Yeah. Anyway, Common Market was my first brush with the NoW Coast (I just made that up, there's probably a better name for it) last year and I've been trying to learn more about it. I know I stumbled across The Saturday Knights at some point earlier this year but formally getting an EP with the classy front cover that these guys got from the Bee Gees could only spell a good time.

As usual, I'm right. I mean, how could I not be? I'm a blogger. Seriously, The Saturday Knights are a bunch of goofballs. The suggested RIYLs include Busdriver, El-P(?) and The Beastie Boys. Yeah, go ahead and throw Man Man on that board. Though "45" is the high-energy power-hop rump-shaker that made them their name on the famed KEXP and mainstream moguls 103.7 The End, all four songs on this re-recorded debut EP (with a full-length to follow this August) have the goofy power-pop energy meshed with the gritty urban grit of an El-P. It's a whole different world from a Shins backing band on "Motorin'" and the Brother Ali-esque aggression of "45." But they've still got a sense of humor: Beneath the beats lies a party band that just wants to have fun, nevermind that single. "The Gospel" is a great example of this, hardly a rap song at all right at its core.

No, this definitely shares more with garage-rock or Man Man insan-sanity than anything currently sweeping the decks. It's a refreshing change and the Beastie Boys comparisons are not totally unthinkable. Light in the Attic may have signed The Black Angels and scored big last year, but The Saturday Knights might be a smarter choice given that they have more potential to be crossover hits. Party rap is sorely lacking (and maybe there's a reason for that), but The Saturday Knights look like they're on the right track toward amending that. If you can't wait until August and don't already have the original EP, give this a whirl.

New Music: Paul Duncan/Slaraffenland, Thilges

Paul Duncan – Above the Trees / Hometapes

Paul Duncan - Red Eagle (Hometapes 2007)

Slaraffenland – Private Cinema / Hometapes

Slaraffenland - Polaroids (Hometapes 2007)

I am a label guy. There are artist guys who only love music by their preferred artist or genre guys who only love music in that particular genre or year/era guya who only love music from that specific year/era. I prefer labels. It’s basically like saying I do not really care if I get a red Skittle or a green Skittle or one of the special once-in-a-lifetime blue Skittles, I just dig what Skittles is doing so toss me whatever happens to be the next color out of the bag and I’m most likely going to be down. So as you have surely noticed, my choice reviews, while not specifically dependent on this factor, typically do sway to whatever my preferred labels are releasing. A personal connection with a label can be a wonderful thing; it makes it easy to continually push your tastes into new eclectic directions while having a guide to lead the way. One imprint that has been quickly pawing its way up my personal-taste-totem-pole is Boulder, Colorado’s (by way of Arkansas) Hometapes. They very much seem to be rounding up artists not with one particular sound but with a discernable vibe, one that fumes a caring patience, a love of craft and a goal of soothing your nerves. And as their mission statement details, their ideals are very scrapbook-esque; random mementos that make sense when catalogued together, labors of love ached and obsessed over by their creators that may not appeal to everyone, but to the caring few will mean millions. You have to respect that. They are also setting up spaces for artists to create at will devoid of any sort of guideline or deadlins at Placetapes as well as HAUS, an online store for supporting your local starving artist.

Two of their latest releases fell into my eager hands in the last couple of weeks, Paul Duncan’s Above the Trees and Slaraffenland’s Private Cinema. Both continue on the Hometapes ethos with very different approaches, so I thought it appropriate to group them together to further my point.

Like I believe a good number of people were as well, I was introduced and concurrently became invigorated with Paul Duncan by way of his 2005 album Be Careful What You Call Home. A cerebral and subdued collection of lush electronically-tinged bedroom pop songs, Be Careful became a go-to album for those evenings alone where I wasn’t specifically down-and-out, but a little overtaxed and in need of a soothing voice to share the insistent bearing of the world. So pulling Above the Trees from it’s yellow envelope was a deep soul sigh; I could already feel the pressure being lifted. But I was slightly taken aback on my first spin of Duncan’s third full-length, all the homemade electronic twinges were gone and in their places lush arrangements of twangy folk. My disappointment didn’t last too long though; Duncan’s aching tenor, now forefront in the mix rather than weaving through the immense instrumental textures, is as relatable as ever and the music, while more straightforward, is still garnished with an immense amount of subtle peculiarities. This in essence is the Will Oldham album I have been waiting for. The album ebbs and flows with deep breaths of slide guitar and string flourishes, Texas twang at heart but created with Chicago’s obsession of texture. Which makes sense since it was recorded at Chicago’s Soma EMS with immensely talented friends including members of Tortoise, Grizzly Bear, Bear in Heaven, The Vandermark 5 and Cursive among others. Yes Duncan has been pulled from his bedroom and in turn some of the intimate idiosyncrasies have been lost along the way, but Above the Trees is no less personal and exponentially more confident. It drifts caringly with complex pastoral tones and Duncan’s songwriting is as strong as ever as he gets to express himself with a much larger musical palette. This was the natural progression for Duncan as an artist, and it is very exciting to hear a musician not only coming into his own but pushing himself to completely new peaks of creativity.

And now we move from an artist who is reaching his potential to musicians bubbling to the brim with it. Scandinavian quintet Slaraffenland (Sluh-raf-in-luhnd) actually sound more Canadian than their frosty neighbors with a sound akin to the everyone-shout-along music of Broken Social Scene but with a penchant for jazzy experiments within their indie-rock foundation. Their band name by no coincidence translates to “the land of milk and honey,” and while the music streaming from these 20-something students based in Copenhagen may be certainly sweet on the ears, they also like to incorporate a hearty amount of staticy recording techniques and the occasionally atonal outburst. Their first release stateside, Private Cinema is actually their third album as a group and the first to utilize vocals, which were tastefully recorded from afar garnishing an Animal Collective like parallel. The music never seems to sit still, for example “Polaroids” where they get into a washy, acoustic guitar/bass/drum groove but allow it to grow increasingly more chaotic as woodwinds begin to intertwine themselves below the mix and everything climaxes triumphantly followed by a quickly decaying tape hiss conclusion. It is very much music that is as influenced by a Brötzmann as it is a Sufjan, which you have to admit piques your interest quite a bit. Already being championed in their home base country of Denmark, Slaraffenland’s U.S. audience is quickly growing as well with acclaimed sets at CMJ (06) and SXSW, which I can only imagine is a raucous fun-loving stage show. Private Cinema is a