Zelienople - "His/Hers"

Zelienople - Parts are Lost (Type 2007)

Zelienople – His/Hers / Type

It almost feels odd diving into a sound like that of Chicago three-piece Zelienople as the spring relief of winter melts into the soon-to-be-menacing heat of summer. My first reaction to this slow burning, mind-enveloping psych-folk slush is that of an autumnal early-frost sort of feel; the freewheeling, carefree spirit of the summer is now completely gone and the realization that a very cold, dismal winter is imminent. But first reactions are for the birds, and Zelienople’s fifth full-length is definitely something that takes time to digest. His/Hers is primed for midsummer; in fact, it sounds more a reaction to unwavering heat pelting at the brain and dissolving sanity than anything. It’s decomposed folk where the gangrene is made up of noise, psych, metal and free jazz.

While apparently recorded in a suburban Chicago basement, His/Hers sounds much more as if it was concocted in a decrepit cabin in somewhere deep in the woods of nowhere. There is just such a menacing, creaking vibe throughout the five songs that acting as a soundtrack to some folksy horror film is not a far-fetched assumption. Banded together as Zelienople since 1998, Matt Christensen, Mike Weis and Brian Harding are not scared to let their individual sound and erroneous byproducts collate and simmer into the kind of stew a Brothers Grimm character may be offering. And like the original manuscripts by the German folk-tellers, which beneath the sometimes ominous and haunting stories were the seeds of beautiful fairy tales and talented linguistics, the surface of Zelienople’s music may be that of foreboding vibes, but underneath breathes delicate folk and intricate musicianship.

The consecutive pairing of “Moss Man” and “Parts Are Lost” is the apex of Zelienople’s sound. “Moss Man” begins softly with ghostly, reverb-soaked guitar and vocals creeping up from levels that barely register. The music continually builds from here on out: first dithering echoes snake dismally from their sources, then the free jazz drums start with stuttering, scathing rhythms and finally in comes the feedback in all it’s early-Sonic Youth glory. The song builds and cascades and looms in a well controlled climax within the lo-fi recording limits. Just as the noise subsides though, “Parts Are Lost” pleasantly drifts in with trotting sleighbells and a very welcoming melody. Still drowned in reverb, the poignant, patient backwoods folk is in no hurry to establish any semblance of a hook, but just to exist as a counterpoint to the widespread menace. The song meanders pleasantly for nine-and-a-half minutes, none of which seem like over-indulgence.

Zelienople exist in a very odd cross-section of styles, an odd angle that sees Low, Boris and Flying Saucer Attack all overlapping characteristics. His/Hers is psychedelic in the mind-bending definition of the term, but not necessarily with the typically associated bright colors. It is folk in spirit and some instrumentation, but not afraid to wile out when necessary. It is noise where the source material plays just as strong a role as the distraught byproduct. And it is free jazz in the strategic placement of tones and liberated structure, but existing in a folksy realm that the genre rarely explores. Zelienople craft a sound that is not necessarily meant for being the center of your attention; it is more about being a catalyst to exploring the sometimes dismal and sometimes delicate aspects of your mind.

Mansbestfriend - "Poly.sci.187"

Mansbestfriend - Stuck in My Head Since I Was 12 (Anticon. 2007)

Mansbestfriend - Poly.sci.187 / Anticon.

You know it, we know it, the blogosphere knows it: Lately we've been having a lot of rock records pass through the humble headquarters of Audiversity. While that's all very well and good for guitar-attuned ears, those of us more into the floetry side of things have gone hungry. Mansbestfriend is a step in that direction, but hold your horses there, slayer: As with any Anticon. release, it couldn't be just that straightforward. So Poly.sci.187 woozily stumbles in with an Emma Goldman quotation; you know straight away the title was no misnomer. What follows is typical of Tim Holland's clever knack for putting the right beats in the right places.

You'll get spoken-word bits in and out of the album, but it's the production that takes center-stage on this album. The prog-hop sensibilities speak to something larger than just Holland's wizardry behind the boards, though: This is clearly a political album. Whatever political science courses you pretended to take in college are out the window with Mansbestfriend, because this album doesn't occupy any kind of overt spots in the consciousness. Instead, Holland (whom I've somehow neglected to mention is Sole during his day job) caters to the cerebral, filling songs with noise-collage samples, vacant beats, E-bows and organs, ethereal vocals... This never really feels like a hip-hop album, actually. Instead, it feels more like a less menacing Dälek record: There's a lesson to be learned from the music, but it's not explicitly stated.

Well, not always. The Goldman snippet aside, "Spin the Humans" starts off with a little lad named William from Lebanon. It ends with a "Wheel of Fortune" clip, but the best part here is that while we can be pretty certain Holland is, erm, less than conservative, he lets you do the deciding for yourself. That's what might be the most rewarding part of this album: There's no lecturing, there's no instructions on what to think, and there are no answers. There are only questions posed in musical form. It's up to the listener to decide how to answer them. Interestingly, a parallel can be drawn to political post-rockers, say From Monument to Masses or even Godspeed You! Black Emperor. It's not quite as heavy-handed, but the point is the same.

For the hip-hop heads still wondering what happened to all the empty promises of that opening paragraph, "Allieverwanted" will fill your needs quite nicely. The vocals are totally swamped by the noisy electronics and analog wanderings that surround a steadfast beat unafraid to bang big. "Stuck in My Head Since I Was 12" follows it and does just as excellent a job of staying loyal to the beats of the grittiest rhymers. Freestyling over a track will never feel so forward-thinking.

There are a ton of other fly beats on here, and that's really my only complaint: That at 16 tracks it's a bit difficult to really wrap yourself up in any of these songs because they never last long enough. The only reason this is unfortunate is because so many of them deserve a little fleshing out, to see where they go. "High Noon and Sobered" is one example, "Firefish" another, "How Big is Space" yet another... The list goes on. It's just one awesome snapshot after another, and while it's the album's Achilles Heel, it's also it's greatest asset: Holland may not be telling you what to think, but he is suggesting how you should feel. Namely, unsettled.

Anticon. is a reliable label, but with Mansbestfriend they've recaptured some of the essence of what they were about. Before Thee More Shallows, before all those Alias remixes, there was Sole and a left-field hip-hop collective he was associated with that wanted to do more than merely rhyme. Poly.sci.187 speaks to that and to the future of a genre that's been hit-or-miss in recent months. Politically speaking: Consider this a direct hit.

Maserati - "Inventions for the New Season"

Maserati - "12/16" (Temporary Residence Ltd. 2007)

Maserati - Inventions for the New Season / Temporary Residence Ltd.

There is a moment on the three-way split Maserati did with fellow Athens, GA residents Cinemechanica and We Versus the Shark in 2004 where you aren't in love with this band. It is the moment before you hit play on "Towers Were Wires." It is also the last moment I can remember thinking that Maserati sounded like a really good name for a band and not just a car company. Now I know better: It's not just a classic car brand. It's a great name for a post-rock band that's come a long way in their short history.

Maserati have flown under the radar in the past few years, but with Inventions for the New Season they have re-emerged from their post-rock hideaway to deliver a full-length that's as much punk-funk as the expected post-rock. In fact, the group may have welded the two together to produce something not unlike LCD Soundsystem's Sound of Silver or !!!'s Myth Takes, except with more blissy guitar tones.

There's a long-winded explanation to this. Here's the abbreviated version: When Kindercore filed for bankruptcy in 2003, Hello Sir took Maserati under their wing where they released a 7" (which was the first appearance of the brilliant "Towers Were Wires"), one split with The Mercury Program and that three-way split mentioned earlier, and their out-of-print sophomore release The Language of Cities. The band went on hiatus in 2004 and though most of their core members eventually reunited in 2005, drummer Phil Horan is now in a reggae band called Still Flyin'. So material for Inventions for the New Season began to form. The only problem was that there was still no proper drummer.

Enter Marietta, Georgia native Gerhardt "Jerry" Fuchs: This guy's prowess is such that he has been in demand and delivered for the likes of the aforementioned LCD Soundsystem, The Juan Maclean and Turing Machine (which he helped found). More relevantly, Fuchs helped out on !!!'s Myth Takes, and so it comes as no surprise that when !!! swung through the Southeast to play shows in Kentucky, the Carolinas and Georgia, Maserati were in the opening slot. Fuchs professes to not enjoying standing still; by drumming for both bands on those nights (and considering !!! usually does hour-plus sets), he's certainly been kept busy.

His uptempo style of drumming has profoundly influenced the new record. For example, on epic opener "Inventions," guitarist Coley Dennis has explained that it was influenced directly by Ash Ra Temple's 1975 recording "Echo Waves." This sort of stuff, coupled with the Mahavishnu Orchestra and touches of all flavors of krautrock, means that Maserati sounds more like Neu! than Mono. The sort of epic quiet-to-loud build-up followed by the inevitable comedown of bands like Explosions in the Sky or even Mogwai in their more contrived moments is absent here. Instead, Maserati drive as quickly as an MC12 around the streets of Bucharest. There's never been any patience for vocals in their music, but there's virtually no patience for anything else except sheer speed here.

If it sounds like they're devolving and falling into some kind of post-rock-meets-dancefloor mentality, you're way, way off the mark. Meaning: I haven't done this band justice. So let the awesome power of "Show Me the Season" grab a hold of you. Let the sheer might of "12/16" conquer you in its final minute. Let "The World Outside" win you over with an avalanche of cymbal-crashing, adrenaline-fueled beauty. "Awesome" is a weak adjective to describe many things, that much is true... But Maserati isn't one of them.

Plants - "Photosynthesis"

Plants - Tumbleweed (Strange Attractors Audio House 2007)

Plants - Photosynthesis / Strange Attractors Audio House

The anticipation right from the off of Photosynthesis is part of what makes this album so special. This isn't your typical weirdo folk stuff, at least not right away. Part of what makes Plants so interesting is that this air of anticipation turns into an air of uneasiness as the album carries on. In some ways, it's an extension of the vibe popularly known from Radiohead's "How to Disappear Completely." In others, it's just another solid release for an Oregon trio.

The Portland-bred band has been around for four albums now, actually. They are thoroughly established in their particular niche and, if they don't mind me saying so, appear to be as resolute and confident in the music they play as the marriage that holds the core of the band together. Molly Griffith-Blanchard and Joshua Blanchard is the marriage I speak of, and while I'm not sure how long they've been together, I like to imagine that they are quietly smiling to themselves as they scare the hell out of the listener with their own brand of psych-folk. One recent comment on their MySpace can attest to this, some bloke now "looking at the stuff in [his] yard a lot differently." There you have it. Plants: You'll never look at lawn ornaments the same way again.

Jesse Stevens is the third guy officially in Plants (Graeme Enkelis, the fourth current member, did not appear on this recording), though for Photosynthesis they enlisted a few other characters from in and around Portland to help record. Ben Buehler was most prominent among them, helping out with recording, bass, vocal and percussion duties His brother Jason played banjo and piano box, while Howard Gillam slipped in electric tones and Michael Braun-Hamilton worked with a singing saw. Basically, this album was born to be awesome. It's just that much more rewarding to find that the chummy hippie freewheeling of Matt Valentine and Erika Elder has been foregone in favor of some really dark, murky tones best evidenced on the organically unsettling "Roots." But the concept of this album, diving beneath the rocky terra firma of the West Coast acid-folk scene to weed out the Indian sitar roots as much as the backswamp Louisiana bayou folk, is excellently balanced between the instrumentals and the vocal tracks, between the strummed tunes you can remember and the ominous droning you can only remember as the breathers. One particular track, "Birdflowers" is virtually all windchimes and wind whooshing in and out. You never see it coming.

While their "pillow-prog odyssey" Double Infinity last year might have the cooler cover, Photosynthesis more concisely and accurately captures what this group is all about. It is the complete package, from the artwork to the music to the concept. It's haunting but not immediately frightening. It is what I wished more psych-folkers did. It's an album you owe to yourself to hear. Unlike the dynamics of the music, anticipation isn't as good as actually listening to it.

Radio Show Playlist 5/30

6a:
1. Can - Future Days - Future Days (Mute 1973)
2. Amon Tobin - Kitchen Sink - Foley Room (Ninja Tune 2007)
3. Fennesz Sakamoto - Mono - Cendre (Touch 2007)
4. Xela - Wet Bones - The Dead Sea (Type 2006)
5. DJ Krush & Toshinori Kondo - Fu-Yu - Ki-Oku (R&S 1998)
6. Fred Lonberg-Holm Trio - There Never Was a Reason - Terminal Valentine (Atavistic 2007)
7. The Watery Graves of Portland - Sleeping Fox - Caracas (Marriage 2006)
8. Andrew Hill - Passing Ships - Passing Ships (Blue Note 2003, recorded 1969)

7a:
1. Thelonious Monk - Four in One - Big Band and Quartet in Concert (Columbia 1963)
2. MoMo - Segredo Nao se Diz - A Ectstica do Rabisco (Dubas Musica 2007)
3. Juana Molina - Yo No - Son (Domino 2006)
4. Canasta - Slow Down Chicago - Find the Time (Broken Middle C 2003)
5. Dungen - Familj - Tio Bitar (Kemado 2007)
6. All Night Radio - Oh, When? - Spirit Stereo Frequency (Sub Pop 2004)
7. The Feelies - Crazy Rhythms - Crazy Rhythms (Stiff 1980)
8. Boris with Michio Kurihara - You Laughed Like a Watermark - Rainbow (Drag City 2007, Inoxia 2006)

8a:
1. Zelienople - Parts are Lost - His/Her (Type 2007)
2. Dinosaur Jr. - Crumble - Beyond (Fat Possum 2007; Thurs, Fri and Sat at Abbey Pub)
3. Sonic Youth - Incinerate - Rather Ripped (Geffen 2006)
4. Dog Day - Oh Dead Life - Night Group (Tomlab 2007)
5. Ride - Perfect Time - Waves-BBC Sessions (Ignition 2003, recorded 1990)
6. The Sea and Cake - Crossing Line - Everybody (Thrill Jockey 2007; Thurs and Fri at Empty Bottle)
7. The Zincs - Hamstrung and Juvenile - Black Pompadour (Thrill Jockey 2007; Thurs at Empty Bottle, on WLUW-FM at 12:30p 5/30)
8. Karate - Cacophony - Pockets (Southern 2004)
9. Prefuse 73 - Last Light with Sam Prekop - Vocal Studies and Uprock Narratives (WARP 2001; Sat at Bel Eckhart Sound Experiment and Sonotheque)
10. Reminder - On Rooftops - Continuum (Eastern Developments 2006)
11. Ammoncontact - Love Letters - One in an Infinity of Ways (Plug Research 2004)
12. Battles - Race: In - Mirrored (WARP 2007)

The Icarus Line - "Black Lives at the Golden Coast"

The Icarus Line - Frankfurt Smile (Dim Mak 2007)

The Icarus Line - Black Lives at the Golden Coast / Dim Mak

I have a theory about Buddyhead Records. Bear with me: I hadn't realized American Apparel carried free issues of Vice, so I made a point to go over there last week and pick one up (I can't really afford the clothing). As I was flipping through, I couldn't help but be reminded of Buddyhead in their heyday when art-damaged was in and fuck-you pretension was prima.

At the eye of this Los Angeles-bred storm of hipper-than-thou attitude and bird-flipping sass was The Icarus Line, partly because one of its members, Aaron North, was in the band. But Buddyhead as a label was actually pretty good: At the Drive-In, The Dillinger Escape Plan, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and Wire were among the groups that were featured on some of their releases. It was their website that basically took the piss on everyone and everything they could. Nothing was cool enough for Buddyhead, not even their own bands. Was it a joke or was it serious? That was never clear, but sometime after 2004's Penance Soiree and after North was drafted into Nine Inch Nails, they kind of stopped mattering. Kids had graduated to the next big thing: Vice. The circulation numbers won't lie.

I checked the credits for the latest issue, but I didn't recognize most of the names. My theory is that some of the people involved with Buddyhead's height have at least fraternized with the movers + shakers behind Vice; in any case, one is nearly directly derived from the other. Vice as a label is great, but reading their magazine religiously and loving it either means you have no idea who you are as a person or you're an overanalytical sociology student.

That's all an exhaustive way of reminding you not just of how the Internet used to be, but also how The Icarus Line used to be. We're a long way from Mono and the days when The Icarus Line were arguably rock's most exciting (and frightening) act. Penance Soiree was a huge step away from publishing celebrity's phone numbers and toward actual credibility beyond punk's flavor of the week, but Black Lives at the Golden Coast is an interesting retreat ever further removed from their self-destructive early years. Last year's Black Presents EP was the first signal of this seachange: With Tracks like "Cut Back the Heard" (which didn't make the final cut) and "FSHN FVR" (which did), the 'Line were looking to a different sound that fused their traditional abrasiveness and atonality with a moody, lurking post-punk sound. Diehards may hate it, but if you've somehow gotten by with ignoring The Icarus Line before, now is your chance to dive in. They're more accessible than ever.

Not that it's a bad thing. Black Lives at the Golden Coast is a different take on the hopelessness of Lost Angeles: This album is strongly influenced by mid-80s post-punk as played by Echo & the Bunnymen or The Church and early goth-rock like Bauhaus. The Icarus Line have always had a dark streak in them - after all, they were dressing in all black with red ties long before The Hives thought it was a good idea to dress modly - but it's really coming out in their music now. The guitar tones on "FSHN FVR" and "Slayer" sound straight off a Teardrop Explodes record, something I don't think anyone could've predicted six years ago. Or maybe they could, because if a punk band doesn't implode or become a parody of itself, it usually finds a way to change its sound through post-punk. Hey, the 80s happened the way they did for a reason. You can't go on wanting anarchy forever. Just ask John Lydon.

Their old vitriol is still there, but only just. It feels like you're walking in on the group already playing as "Black Presents" starts with feedback and the ever-muscular drumming of Jeff Watson. Rock n' roll swagger pops up here and there throughout the duration, including penultimate track "Golden Rush." The ultimate testament to The Icarus Line's evolution in sound is the concluding track, "Kingdom:" At eight minutes, it runs the gamut of psychedelic walls-of-noise and minimalist post-punk and garage-rock and everything else that this band could possibly incorporate into its sound (including both strings and, of course, horns... But we already covered that with Silver Daggers so I'll spare you). Frankly, Joe Cardamone's wailing has never sounded so fragile and unassured. Is this the sound of a band that's just now realizing the possibilities that lie beyond three-minute blasts of noise? Or is this the sound of a band that's about to self-destruct, as all great punk bands eventually do, just as they're reaching an important juncture in their sound? Will the fans follow?

Maybe it doesn't matter. Caught in their own world of a Lost Angeles scene that continues to be wrapped up in the self-importance of upholding the Left Coast, The Icarus Line have challenged themselves and come up blood-colored roses on Black Lives at the Golden Coast with arguably their finest hour. Now they're staring you straight in the eye and daring you to do the same; the only thing dividing you is a Vice review... Or maybe it's Buddyhead incognito. I can't tell the difference.

Fisk Industries - "EPs and Rarities"

Fisk Industries - Liquid Silver Moments (Mush 2007, originally Highpoint Lowlife 2006)

Fisk Industries – EPs and Rarities / Mush

There is just something enchanting about IDM done right. Through purely a mechanical process, a good electronica artist can breed emotion through a seemingly simple process of programming rhythm and melody. It’s not necessarily rocket science and typically easy to decipher from a listening standpoint, but utilizing just the right balance of equipment, samples and production is definitely a talent. If it weren’t, we would certainly not hold artists like Boards of Canada or Plaid in such high esteem. And in some aspects, while agonizingly obsessed over programming may never be held in the same respects as say a jazz improviser, acclaimed vocalist or a guitar virtuoso, there is something to be said for an artist that can wrangle emotion out of stone-cold sine waves, erroneous clicks and static.

London-based multimedia artist Mat Ranson had no intention of diving into the world of IDM, ambient techno, downtempo or whatever electronica subsidiary that may categorize his music. Bedroom sound doodling while at Art College in Birmingham, England escalated to collaborating in 2003 with Highpoint Lowlife Records, a club-spurred multi-genre release imprint based in London via San Francisco. Now dubbed Fisk Industries, Ranson was able to release is intricately designed melodic-yet-crunchy IDM aside similar-minded artists like Recon, DoF, Marshall Watson and n.Ln. Like the entire Highpoint Lowlife roster, Ranson is not necessarily out to revolutionize the genre with his Fisk Industries moniker; it’s more about exploring the possibilities and relationships of the tools involved. Attempting to elaborate on the seeds planted by Aphex Twin, Autechre, Boards of Canada, Oval, Mouse on Mars and Plaid without straight mimicking their sound. Seeking to breathe life into electronic machinery and seeing what emotion really does exist in those confusing pathways of wires and circuits and breakers and whatever else makes electronics electrocute.

Already making noise in London and it’s surrounding areas with four years of ten-inch EPs, digitally released work and other singularities, Ranson has now teamed up with the always entertaining Mush Records to both cull and release his collected material stateside. The two-disc set aptly titled EPs and Rarities features both properly released The Isle of Wight and 77 and Rising ten-inch EPs as well as four other exclusively digital EPs and five previously unreleased songs. Though the release dates involved span back to 2003, all of the material fits seamlessly together while letting Ranson dip his toes in the aforementioned electronica genres (IDM, ambient techno, downtempo) as well as dub, minimal techno, left-field house, glitch and illbient as well. I know that sounds like a bunch of similar style regurgitation, but they are all tags that Fisk Industries could be filed under, so just be aware.

The first disc featuring the two previously released ten-inches is definitely the go-to point for newcomers. Ranson has as good a grasp on manipulating analog synths into sparse, emotion-drenched melodies as either of the Boards, but definitely surrounds the core with more minimal isan- or Isolée-like minimal blip-rhythms than Boards’ drum breaks. And while The 2003’s Isle of Wight EP may owe just a little too much influence to the ambient electronica pioneers, 2006’s 77 and Rising adds a heavy dub influence to further the cause. “Liquid Silver Moments” for example submerges the bass-line leaving only the lowest of frequencies to pulse along the delicate, skittering rhythm, deep analog keyboard breaths and the sparse vocoderized vocals. Later on, “Close” sounds like it was almost produced through an actual bass, but processed heavily and colored in with synthetic string flourishes and twinkling electronic pings.

The second disc is a more random assortment of styles being a collection of mostly singles and unreleased tracks. Ranson teases his sound in both more upbeat and cluttered directions (“Columbia”) as well as the opposing sparse and ambient attempts (“On Thursday”). He manages to find such a welcoming balance on the first disc, I doubt I’ll revisit the second one nearly as often. And it should be noted that while very enjoyable, Fisk Industries is not releasing any music that has not been purveyed time and again since the mid-90s, when we all got sick of guitars for the moment and yearned for something different. It is, though, a nice, unpretentious culmination of the many sub-styles that have immerged in the last decade, and that certainly counts for something. I for one would take it over something like the progressive-trance overly climatic music of The Field any day. It’s something much more endearing with it’s simple and tasteful demeanor.

Montag - "Going Places"

Montag - Safe in Sound (feat. Amy Millan) (Carpark 2007)

Montag - Going Places / Carpark

Ah, Mondays. There's nothing like a little Memorial Day to slow down the pace of things, a much-needed time to relax and recharge for the long summer that inevitably lies ahead. For me personally, Monday is all about a re-evaluation of what I did on Sunday... Which was watch the biggest day in motor racing. I started off with Formula 1's Monaco Grand Prix in the morning, watched the excruciatingly drawn-out Indianapolis 500 in the afternoon, and for some reason also kept up with NASCAR's Coca Cola 600 in the evening. It was the motoring equivalent of de-evolution. Put better, I went to bed last night feeling a lot less cultured and classy than when I woke up.

So when this morning rolled around, I needed something savvy enough for me to feel like I'd recovered from a Casey Mears hangover but approachable enough for me to get into it immediately. I needed something that captured the joie de vivre of a culture far, far removed from anything paved and ovular. Montag and his real name Antoine Bédard is that guy.

Why do we care about Bédard? If you're interested in independent music at all, you've probably already heard his name: The Quebec-born, Vancouver-raised electronic wizard is incredibly prolific, having released 2005's Alone, Not Alone while playing live with Xiu Xiu, Ghislain Poirier, The Russian Futurists and Ulrich Schnauss to name a few. He's remixed Stars, he's scored poetry by Kim Doré, he's been to SXSW. The only thing it seems he hadn't done was release a second album, but that's taken care of now.

In keeping with what must be a highly gregarious nature, Montag didn't work alone by any stretch of the imagination. Poirier, M83, Final Fantasy and Au Revoir Simone are some of the more notable names to drop in during the course of Going Places, but each seems to take their respective songs in a slightly different direction. While "I Have Sound" starts off with the Anthony Gonzalez collaboration, none of M83's hallmark analog whitewash is to be found; instead, the synths-as-airy vocal harmonies work their magic for what sounds more like Montag than even Montag could've hoped for. It's starry-eyed, it's breathing in deeply and smiling stupidly, it's the essence of what's to come.

"Best Boy Electric" sounds like it came off a synth-pop assembly line in its Dntel-like drive, but the beat never gets the best of the humming refrain and ultimately livens up the first half. You'd think the Ghislain Poirier match-up on "Alice" would be a little too in-your-face for Montag, but don't laugh, it's not post-modern: Instead, it's short, subtle and pretty. Very muted, even.

Which is the main story to this album, actually. Take any particular song with any particular collaborative effort and it seems like Montag got the better of them all. The Amy Millan collaboration "Safe in Sound" is less Small Brown Bike and more Stars of course, but both Millan and Bédard have virtually anonymous vocals on this track and no one else fairs much better. There's no doubt about it: Bédard knows exactly what he wants out of his own album, and on Going Places he's hit it squarely on the mark.

I could use all kinds of circularity to tie up the loose ends and talk about how while I went nowhere yesterday watching tons of guys drive hundreds of miles for me I've driven many more miles even than them to get back to Columbia and then on to Vancouver mentally to join Montag in his scene-setting, but I think you see where it's going. Just know that while Going Places isn't revolutionary, its irrefutable pleasantness is what sets it apart from so many other releases. Relax, it's going to be alright. See? "Hands Off, Creature!" You'll be okay.

Ah, Tuesdays.

Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - "Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo"

Omar Rodriguez-Lopez - Boiling Death Request a Body to Rest Its Head On (GSL 2007)

Omar Rodriguez-Lopez – Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo / GSL

Over at Reckless Records, I am always surprised at how consistently we keep Omar Rodriguez-Lopez’s first solo project, 2004’s A Manual Dexterity: Soundtrack, Vol. 1, in stock. It is a decent album (supposedly the soundtrack to an uncompleted/never-released film of the same name) of ambient psychedelic guitar noodles released at the peak of The Mars Volta’s popularity. I’m not necessarily saying it was a cash-in on the revitalized interest in Rodriguez-Lopez’s post-At the Drive-In guitar-wizard reputation, but despite a few well-worth-your-time songs, it is pretty much negligible in the grand scheme of things. Yet I have probably sold more of that particular album, especially the LP version, than all the Mars Volta albums combined during my tenure at the Chicago record store. I have a theory (that was somewhat solidified through a conversation with a patron as I was once again selling our newly-restocked copy to just the other day) that the brightly twinkling, light refracting cover-art has a lot to do with its appeal when matched with Rodriguez-Lopez’s acclaimed name. It nearly hypnotizes you with curiosity upon setting your eyes on the flashy cover; especially in it’s grandiose LP form. The customer asked me what I thought about it, and I told him my true opinion—decent with a few standouts, but nothing overtly special—and it didn’t dissuade him in the slightest, and then he actually remarked about the curious artwork. Now if Rodriguez-Lopez had just matched that ridiculously hypnotizing album cover with the music of his latest solo outing, Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo, we would have the complete package.

I think like most people, my interest in the Rodriguez-Lopez helmed Mars Volta peaked early and waned with each passing release; it is now to the point where 2006’s Amputechture got little more than a sole passing listen by my ears. But truth be told, I have always had and presumably always will have a soft spot for the Puerto Rican composer, guitarist and producer. He is just too talented to ignore even if neo-psychedelia prog is not your cup of tea. There is a reason that At the Drive-In was such an ambitious, mind-blowing punk band, and as Sparta has further proved, it was not stemming from the rhythm section. Seemingly the love child of Carlos Santana and John McLaughlin (see 1972’s Love Devotion Surrender for the seeds of Rodriguez-Lopez’s sound), Omar’s freewheeling and passionate compositions stem from the hey day of ambitious psychedelic jazz-rock in the early 70s, but as with his work with the Volta, occasionally over-reach their ambitions into pretension and come off more cheesy mid-70s prog than anything. It’s a shame too, because the man has ridiculous talent and vision, he’s just trapped in the wrong era.

Thankfully though, Rodriguez-Lopez occasionally leaves the major label budget behind for some home recordings like the ones on his latest solo offering, Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo, one of four albums recorded while visiting Amsterdam in 2005. Fortunately handed-over with no over-arching themes or alienating concepts or questionable Mars Volta artwork (other than the once again possibility of being a soundtrack), his third album under solely his name is an intriguing affair of mid-fi Latin-jazz-grounded psyche-rock that vastly improves on the foundation laid with A Manual Dexterity. The regular cast of characters remains involved: Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s high-pitched croon is utilized on three of the tracks (exceptionally on “Rapid Fire Tollbooth,” haphazardly on “La Tirania de la Tradiciòn”), Volta contributors Juan Alderete de la Peña, Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez and Jon Theodore all chip in, and of course the now expected two-cents from John Frusciante and Money Mark. All the musicians involved sound very much attuned to each other and provide ample palettes for Omar to riff and wail and rip over with his so ably proficient electric guitar.

After two doodling ambient pieces (the kind that made up the majority of A Manual Dexterity), the first proper tune is “Rapid Fire Tollbooth,” a patient psyche-funk number narrated by Bixler-Zavala that should have been what the Mars Volta was doing all this time. With Bixler-Zavala’s unearthly, echoing yelps undercut by drowned soprano sax flourishes, Rodriguez-Lopez first riffs with consciously sloppy wah-wah funk before releasing the kind of finger-bleeding solo that has instigated so many Santana parallels. A slightly more developed ambient piece bridges into the title track, a slowly blossoming song of Latin-jazz piano, mindedly eased electric guitar and un-enunciated vocals from Bixler-Zavala. It mostly sounds like a Tremulant cast-off, which is absolutely a compliment. Another continuously developed ambient number (a pattern is appearing) before we get to the original studio version of “Please Heat This Eventually,” a limited-edition 12-inch collaboration with Can’s Damo Suzuki from earlier this year. Though Suzuki’s growling vocals aren’t included on this version, Money Mark’s Joe Zawinul impression accentuating the urgent, exuberant piece certainly takes it to a new, welcomed dimension. In between the culmination of this every-other-track-pattern of slow-burning, ambient pieces, “Lurking About in a Cold Sweat (Held Together by Venom),” and the questionable psychedelic-punk of “La Tirania de la Tradiciòn,” is my favorite number, “Boiling Death Request a Body to Rest Its Head On.” Like a b-side to Love Devotion Surrender, Rodriguez-Lopez submerges his guitar in watery effects-pedals and lets Adrian Terrazas Gonzales wail on an equally recordingly-restrained soprano saxophone in a Pharoah Sanders-spiritual-jazz manner. With the light percussion and just right marriage of pedals and distortion, it’s the Latin-psyche-jazz excursion I have always hoped for from Rodriguez-Lopez.

So is Se Dice Bisonte, No Bùfalo the best Omar Rodriguez-Lopez solo offering to date? Yes. Is it more rewarding than most of the Mars Volta output? To me at least—yes—but mostly because it just seems devoid of the pretension they have established with that outfit (which seemed like a good idea at first, but hasn’t really panned out). Will it prove as remarkably sustainable selling-wise as A Manual Dexterity? It should from a music standpoint, but the prairie-toned artwork certainly doesn’t have the same mesmerizing appeal as the light refracting hoopla of Dexterity. And finally, the must-be-answered hypothetical question: “I am more of a fan of the idea of the Mars Volta than the actual music, will this suffice my tastes?” Yes, and I’m right there with you buddy.

Singleversity #12

Audiversity’s weekly column on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 37. Except, ah, yeah: There are definitely only two of us.

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



Brood – ing [broo-ding] –adjective
1. To hover envelopingly; loom.
2. a) To be deep in thought; meditate.
b) To focus the attention on a subject persistently and moodily; worry.

example: see Thee More Shallow’s "Monkey vs Shark".

JR:















[Here in spirit, RIP and so on (Jordan is not dead, just on an indefinite Audiversity hiatus. -Ed.)]

PM:















If France felt refreshing last night, Huddie Ledbetter will have you feeling the oppressive heat of the American Southeast after “Pick a Bale of Cotton.” His father a sharecropper, his music pre-blues, his influence immeasurable. Enough said.

Kahil El'Zabar's Infinity Orchestra - "Transmigration"

Kahil El'Zabar's Infinity Orchestra - Soul to Groove (Delmark 2007)

Kahil El’Zabar’s Infinity Orchestra – Transmigration / Delmark

I was all set to write-up a party-friendly, spazz-happy record, but to tell you the truth, it just didn’t hold my attention and was really wrong for my current mindset. I need something more random and less hip, something maybe not necessarily mind-blowing, but interesting and exotic and ridiculous. I need to distance myself from the DJs and laptop-artists and solo-outfits and half-cocked ideas and immerse myself in something bigger, some sort of cultural melting pot of styles and backgrounds and musicians. I need something more than a quartet or a quintet or a sextet of players, I need a fucking small village of musical minds playing as one. I need something both new and old, a bridging of eras and mindsets, something that stretches out in all directions with exuberance, excitement and joy, and something celebratory to bring in this holiday weekend. So, what the hell, I’m heading to a port city in the southwest of France to experience the live, multi-layered, ethnic barrage of free jazz, big band, soul-jazz, funk and hip-hop by a 39-piece orchestra. While I may actually be spending this pleasantly cool and quiet Chicago Friday night huddled over my laptop with a Honker’s Ale and an attention hungry cat, as far as my mind and ears are concerned, I’m sitting front-and-center at the National Theater of Bordeaux, Aquitaine, France, drunk on their world-famous wine and smiling broadly at the orchestrating antics of Kahil El’Zabar as he leads his Infinity Orchestra through the rambunctious hour-long set of Transmigration.

El’Zabar is a true Chicago jazz musician; he is multi-talented, highly committed and part of more eccentrically wonderful projects than there is time to list. A product of the AACM, he is a percussionist, arranger, composer, conductor, clothes/costume designer, educator and community leader. As a musician, he began at a young age honing his skills with early incarnations of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, and along with playing alongside everyone from Dizzy Gillespie, Nina Simone, Stevie Wonder and Cannonball Adderley, he has lead and played in groups like the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, the JUBA Collective and the Ritual Trio. There are many other interesting tidbits to El’Zabar’s career as well, for example, clothes designing for Nina Simone, artist in residence/Master of Carnival in Bordeaux, or arranging the stage performances of The Lion King, but we really should concentrate on the album at hand.

The origination of the Infinity Orchestra reaches back to 1978 when El’Zabar pieced together an all-Chicago ensemble that let him experiment with his increasingly ambitious big-band compositions. In fact, one piece from those experimental days appears on this release, the album closer “Return of the Last Tribe.” Inspired then by the works of the Art Ensemble of Chicago and Archie Shepp’s big-band excursions and now influenced by myriad of geographically concentrated styles including free jazz in France (especially BYG Actuel releases, though not nearly as challenging), indigenous African percussion (most notably the balafon and djembe) and American rap and turntablism, El’Zabar has arranged and orchestrated a skillfully performed and joyous album with his French 39-piece cross-generational ensemble in Transmigration, which may not be perfect, but is certainly a treat to experience.

The album opens with the very curious “Soul to Groove,” certainly not what I was expecting at least. Kicking off with a turntable solo, a solo free jazz tenor sax enters two minutes later wailing away like there’s no tomorrow. It’s not cheesy in the least, which in itself is a success. Bombastic orchestra cheers and funky guitar riffing egg on the duet before dissolving back to just solo turntable once again; it is certainly not the first pair of the two genres, but it is handily pulled off. Now “Nu Art Claiming Earth” on the other hand is not nearly as successful and actually bends toward unlistenable. This times rhymes are added to the mix care of French rapper Bindi Mahamat, and with no offense to his flow, it just doesn’t work. The song drags on for fifteen-minutes through a barrage of different movements, but if anything, just disenchants the promising album opener.

The centerpiece of Transmigration is the 24-minute “Speaking in Tongues,” though while simple from an arrangement standpoint contains fantastic musicianship and is a very rewarding track. Kicking off with the melodic percussive sound of the balafon, a West African xylophone of sorts, it meanders through three phases each spotlighting a different soloist, trumpeter Piero Pepin, clarinetist Jean Dousteyssier, and alto saxophonist Benoit Berthe. Like every solo on the disc, they are inspired and fantastic, and in fact, the solos are the main attraction of the album. On “Return of the Lost Tribe,” the only two non-French musicians, Chicagoans Ernest Dawkins (New Horizons Ensemble) and Joseph Bowie (Defunkt) each provide emotional outbursts to the grooving orchestral swing led by El’Zabar. Again, it would be a far cry to call any of it classic, but it is very enjoyable and a much-welcomed aural escape from most of what gets released these days.

So after a ridiculously jading week, it feels great to lose myself in the heart-felt eccentricities of Kahil El’Zabar and his orchestra. No it won’t win you many cool points in the hipster realm of things and no it won’t blow your mind from a musical you-have-never-experienced-something-like-this-before standpoint, but it will put a grin on your face, make your head sway and probably send you to the liner notes a couple times to see who just ripped that ridiculous clarinet solo. What else could you want? A bottle of Bordeaux’s world-famous wine? Well yeah, me too.

Silver Daggers - "New High and Ord"

Silver Daggers - Real Neat Flag (Load 2007)

Silver Daggers - New High and Ord / Load

Though it took the entire summer of 2004, I eventually came to love Black Eyes' Cough. Maybe it was just the single greatness of "Drums" or maybe I was just feeling malleable, but by that August I had grown to appreciate what they were doing even if I wasn't going around telling everyone about it. When I found out they broke up right before they released Cough, I was slightly heartbroken: Here was a band that was using horns to push the free-jazz side of punk forward in a way that hadn't been done properly in years. It was all very no wave and Black Eyes were arguably Dischord's most promising band (alongside Q and Not U).

It's taken three years, but we're virtually in the same place on the calendar and I've finally heard something worthy to the immediate legacy that Black Eyes left: Welcome to the Smell-affiliated world of LA's Silver Daggers. Like our previous post on No Age, Silver Daggers have been heavily involved in the growth and development of the venue and community out there. With New High and Ord, the quintet has held up well from the promise of their early 7s to come through with a downright dirty set of 16 songs your friends still obsessing over Contortions and 99 will love.

There's so much happening here right from the word go on "Enter the King." Every member of the group plays some critical part: While William Kai Strangeland Manchaca throws in atonal keys and shares both vocal duties and sax skronk (There it is for this review) with Jenna Thornhill, Jackson Baugh violates his guitar to the listener's delight, Steven Kim finds irresistible grooves in the noise, and Marcus Savino just goes at it constantly on the skins. It sounds like it's a total disaster when I write it out, but as they've recently stated themselves, New High and Ord and Silver Daggers in general are just the synthesis of five people with totally different musical ideas and schools of thought contending. It's this tension that makes the album so wonderful. The drums of the title-track dominate while a cobra-taming sax line runs in the background and WKSM shares in the shouting with Thornhill. Like so many other songs on the record (that mostly clock in at around a minute-and-a-half, but this is an exception at nearly five), it's boisterous, it's lively, it's driven. That is Silver Daggers as a whole. "Real Neat Flag" is just one excellent example.

I know I'm behind when I sing their praises as this came out a month ago today. But I don't think it's ever really too late to get into something good (Also, Silver Daggers have not, to my knowledge, broken up; always a plus). It hasn't taken me nearly as long to jump head-first into this. New High and Ord may be a chaotic and messy collage of primitive synths and ultra-sharp guitar tones, but its emphasis on the punk in post-punk is one of the main reasons this sounds entirely different from so much else out there at the moment. They've learned the lessons of Lydia Lunch and still managed to take in the poptones of Public Image Ltd.

What remains is an unconquered public that's been trained to think that Gang of Four and Liquid Liquid are the epitome of one of the most significant musical movements of the last century. Er, not necessarily. Sitting on the other end of my toast is New High and Ord: Here's to another attempt at re-evaluating what post-punk and experimentation were all about.

Boris with Michio Kurihara - "Rainbow"

Boris with Michio Kurihara - You Laughed Like a Water Mark (Drag City 2007)

Boris with Michio Kurihara - Rainbow / Drag City

It's sometimes a struggle to write a record review when so many other people have already beaten me to the punch. So why do it, you know? What's left in the nooks and crannies of one of 2007's better releases that hasn't yet come to the light of day after months of analysis as The Hype Machine will attest?

I'm not sure, but let me just say this: I'm glad this album has finally come to the US. It was January when one of the better unheralded blogs out there, Funtime OK, first warned of an impending release with new artwork and extended songs. Though they're now finished, their heads-up was enough to get people refocused on something a little more psychish after last year's collaboration with doom kings Sunn 0))) resulted in the massive but mostly underwhelming Altar. Something was necessary to rectify that amplifier worshipping situation.

So if you haven't gotten the message, Rainbow is definitely that. In several reviews Boris is noted for their critically successful Pink and Kurihara is universally regarded for his time in Ghost, who themselves released an album earlier this year to some minor acclaim. Here's a secret not so many people have pointed out: Drag City definitely have the better album with Rainbow. In fact, I'd venture to say that In Stormy Nights was at times downright boring. Three months on from its Stateside release, I struggle to remember the highlights. Masaki Batoh would have my head, but perhaps Kurihara would slide a smile behind his back. I'm not propagating a rivalry here, just calling them like I see them.

Boredom is never a word I'd associate with Rainbow. Even during its quietest passages (The intro to "Shine" takes its sweet time revving up to proper amplitude), Rainbow flourishes under the tension of Boris' past and the ghosts of Les Rallizes Denudes to name but one. For two: Ghost shows up here too, but it's their earlier work that seems more relevant. More Second Time Around than Hypnotic Underworld. Or maybe that's just the spirits talking. Either way, this album is alive with late-60s golden-era Jap-psych and the best krautrock even shows face on "Rainbow" the song and my personal highlight, "You Laughed Like a Water Mark." This particular song's lo-fi solo is one of my favorites this year for its piercing sound and for its ascending and descending delicacy, honed over tons of Ghost albums, White Heaven, Damon & Naomi, The Stars, You Ishihara... You get the idea. Dude gets around.

The sounds alive on this record are all over the place, so much so that the distant vocals and Kurihara's six-string shredding are the only things uniting them. Boris is a transformed band here with a renewed sense of purpose and vigor. Frankly, I thought that Pink was merely good (Dronevil stands to me as their ultimate magnum opus) and Altar was more than overrated and over-saturated at least. It seems like anytime Boris puts something out, people jump on it just because they're happy to have another Boris release. I don't blame them, they're one of rock's finest bands at the moment... But for the last year or so they've been cruising n' collecting. No more. Rainbow is the reaffirmation for those of us who might've grown a little bored with recent releases that this band still knows how to put together brilliant songs. Michio Kurihara comes off looking as good as ever. Who loses? Only you if you haven't already purchased Rainbow for yourself.

Grouper - "Cover the Windows and the Walls"

Grouper - Heart Current (Root Strata 2007)

Grouper - Cover the Windows and the Walls / Root Strata

For me, the birthday happenings ended pretty early last night. The aftermath started in this morning as the evil cough that has been trading barbs with my immune system for the last three days returned. There's no question about it, Justice just was not the kind of music I needed to hear to settle myself down, get a throat lozenge and attempt to sneak in some more sleep. I needed something dreamier. I needed something appropriate for a post-anything aftermath. In the wake of a hacked-up lung, one woman emerged through the haze of the morning sun to save me: Liz Harris. I'd have had it no other way.

Portland resident Harris is the woman behind Grouper, but you may know her better from a Xiu Xiu collaboration called Creepshow. She's also released two albums prior to this one, and on her sophomore effort Way Their Crept she demonstrated a mastery of musical and vocal delay. There's a slight change on Cover the Windows and the Walls, because now she's playing around with pianos and slowly strumming guitars, which form the base of songs like "It Feels Alright." This evolution only works wonders for Grouper, because this album is sheer morning glory for your ears. Like a kid rubbing their eyes to see the sun through the blinds, Cover the Windows and the Walls floats as airless as dust in the light of dawn, enigmatic but never frustratingly opaque.

The songs evoke the pastoral feelings of a roaming countryside the kinds of which Emerson was keen on writing about. Indeed, it's less pastoralism and more transcendentalism that's advertised in this music, borderline ambient but still concrete enough for a listener to detect, um, "hooks." Term used loosely. It's the stuff of dreams, the sounds of REM sleep coming to a close. It's a spiritual state that hovers in on the A-side with the title-track and continues on through to the B-side, which starts off with "Heart Current." This is a special piece of vinyl, understated and at times very distinct ("You Never Came" has the most noticeable guitar pieces). But it is, more than anything else, an individual album.

Maybe Liz Harris is keen on literature and maybe she couldn't care less about it. But the spirit of Emerson's "Nature" is written all over her music, and I mean that in the best possible way. The concluding words of that 1836 manifesto are my best advice to you as you give Grouper a listen. Uncover your windows and walls: "Build, therefore, your own world. As fast as you conform your life to the pure idea in your mind, that will unfold its great proportions. A correspondent revolution in things will attend the influx of the spirit."

MoMo - "A Estética do Rabisco"

MoMo - Segredo Não se Diz (Dubas Musica 2007)

MoMo - A Estética do Rabisco / Dubas Musica

I pride myself as being a good recommendee. While collaborating on Audiversity certainly testifies that I enjoy doing the recommending as well, I personally am much more interested in being recommended new music to enlighten my tastes. Luckily, I have done a pretty good job in putting myself in strategic positions to have new music as recommended by knowledgeable peers and colleagues continuously dumped into my ears. Being the Music Director of an independent radio station like WLUW-FM Chicago is most beneficial in this aspect. My job may be to use my personal knowledge to cultivate a quality eclectic library, but there is no way in hell that could be accomplished without 200 volunteers continuously giving me their opinions on the music they love the most. One of the most beneficial (for me at least) relationships I have established in the last year has been with music critic Peter Margasak, whose vast worldly knowledge fills me with envy and awe on almost a daily basis. Thankfully, he enjoys dishing out said knowledge and regularly sends music my way that I request after hearing on his internationally focused radio show, Mosaic, or on his blog, Post No Bills, for our library. His post on blossoming Brazilian singer/songwriter Marcelo Frota from a couple of weeks back immediately caught my attention, and to my pleasure, the slightly delayed request was merrily replied with “I was waiting for you to ask.”

The music of Frota’s debut album under his MoMo moniker, the aptly titled A Estética do Rabisco (The Art of Scribbling), was absolutely not what I was expecting—it is better. I try not to think that my knowledge of Brazilian music is completely concentrated on the Bossa Nova and Tropicailia scenes, but for the most part, it sadly is. Like I’m sure most of you reading do, I regularly snatch up the obscure psychedalia comps rampantly being culled from Brazil and love me some of the easily acquirable light-hearted Bossa Nova groove, but outside the occasional Afro-Brazilian, samba or MPB record, I rarely get schooled on the many, many, many niches of Brazilian music I am sure exist. And on the MPB subject, that tag is as vague as calling a record “pop,” so it is hard to differentiate one sub-style from another. Well A Estética do Rabisco falls under none of those categories and contains none of the wily rhythms I was expecting that are usually associated with Brazilian music; it’s psyche-folk heavily influenced by early 70s Brazilian recordings and late 60s American psychedelia as well as our contemporary freak-folk scene. Just check his MySpace page: Antony and the Johnsons, Devendra Banhart, Cat Power, CocoRosie, Feist, Isobel Campbell and even Nick Drake all reside in the coveted “Top Friend Space.” Surprised me too; and yes, I feel bad about my ridiculous naivety.

In fact, Frota’s MySpace page details just how influenced he is by his American contemporaries like Banhart and Antony, he lists them as inspiring forces to write A Estética do Rabisco. And Frota’s non-descript psyche-folk not only lives up to such parallels, but surpasses them with his unassuming, laid-back vibe and mid-fi recordings that are much more effective to my ears than some of the grandiose arrangements being utilized in the American underground these days. Both Margasak and the Dusty Groove abstract of the album name Alceu Valenca and Geraldo Azevedo as Brazilian reference to his sound, but I have had trouble stirring up decent descriptions of those two artists other than that damn MPB vagueness (though allmusic has lengthy bios on each). Using very generic reference points we can all associate with to describe Frota’s sound: strip away White Album-era Beatles or Syd Barrett’s Pink Floyd to the barest melodic essentials, slow them down to a Nick Drake shuffle and intertwine some of that exotic Caetano Veloso charm, and you are starting to get an idea of what we’re getting at.

The instrumentation on the album is nothing special but very effectively utilized; sparsely recorded kit drum, acoustic guitar picking and analog keyboards make up the majority of the music with Frota’s wonderfully unpretentious croon leading the way. Pinwheels of feedbacking electric guitars, avant-garde sax yelps and light breezes of flute all occasionally color the sound with the psyche tag, and it’s classic late 60s/early 70s psyche too, not the post-produced slop we get a lot of today. I can’t too much speak for the lyricism, though his intimate tone and delicate phrasing certainly point in an endearing romantic direction if any. The music sweeps with sparse psychedelia, patters with gentle folk-pop and grooves melodiously rather than rhythmically. It’s an album that you melt into, letting the musical swirls enchant your mind and lull you to relaxation.

Marcelo Frota and his MoMo moniker are definitely names to keep on your to-get-a-hold-of list. If you reside in the States, my guess that it will be tough to come by at the moment, but he is apparently seeking a U.S. license to grace us with his psyche-folk seduction. Did you hear that Gnomonsong? For now though, you are going to have to take my route and rely on knowledgeable friends. There is no shame in being the recommendee, and if you play the role long enough, you’ll be switching sides before you realize it.

Justice - "†"

Justice - Valentine (Ed Banger 2007)

Justice - † / Ed Banger

What better way to celebrate my birthday than with the ultimate party people of the past year? Gaspard Augé (the bearded one) and Xavier de Rosnay (the one with all-conquering sideburns) have dominated dancefloors since their Simian remix in 2004; when Vice picked up the tab for Ed Banger releases Stateside last year, the rat-race to award them as the greatest dance phenomenon since the DFA's post-9/11 successes was well and truly on. Kids started wearing giant crucifixes again; high-tops were more in-style than they were 20 years ago; D.A.R.E. shirts were everywhere. Paris was the new Brooklyn.

Almost a year on from their debut EP Waters of Nazareth, then, where do we stand? Don't be fooled by So Me's subtle artwork that no longer screams for attention as it did on the EP. Instead of the towering mass that declares yes, here is Justice, only the outline of the mighty cross that illuminates their sets hovers menacingly, understated and outlined, in the middle of their cover. Have they taken a turn for the darker, or is their big-bang 500cc style still the same?

"Genesis" doesn't take long to answer the question. The menacing orchestra, sounding miles off, gives a glimpse of the sound the cover suggests... But it's 38 seconds in and the pumping bass arrives. The subtleties of "Genesis" are in how they don't go all out with fuzz or massive percussion; even the beat doesn't feel overdone, subtle enough to be hidden away late in a mix... or at the forefront of one of 2007's most anticipated albums. "Let There Be Light" follows, its compressed analog melodies clashing nicely with the tisking hi-hats and thundering 4/4 drums. "D.A.N.C.E." is the first single slated for release on May 28th, its choral recitation an obvious highlight of the album that you'll probably hear everywhere this summer.

After this point (and maybe even before it), you get the idea. That's both the blessing and the curse for these guys: Their City of Lights splendor only works as long as you're up for the dance. But at some point the party has to end and you have to go home (except in Berlin). Strangely, that song for this record is placed right after the "Phantoms." "Valentine" is a humble and cheesy song that couldn't have been more appropriately titled. It's the shortest tune on the album, but it's also one of the most different: Despite the ubiquitous beat, the playful synths take on a doe-eyed form and you're suckered in not by Justice's usual big-beat machismo but by their softer side instead. It rarely comes out and nowhere else on the record does it stick around for a whole song, but it is a curious addition and a welcome one.

"The Party" will be another favorite for club-hoppers the world over, but Uffie's delivery never engaged me and this is no exception. Always sexual from a distance, perhaps due to some kind of coke cloud surrounding the entire Ed Banger camp, Uffie is begging for objectification here. Or maybe that's not the point. No, I guess when your appearance is on a song with a title like "The Party," reading too much into things might be a mistake.

So we won't. We'll dance until our shoes no longer have soles and we'll drink ourselves silly and we'll snort what we can and smoke every last Gauoloises Blondes and spin until there's no song left on earth to play and the people have no choice but to stop. Maybe there will be a day when IDM really exists and people think on the floor and this bollocks about "the party" will fall by the wayside and Paris will recede from the musical spotlight... But Gaspard Augé and Xavier de Rosnay are doing everything they can to ensure that day won't come anytime soon. Sounds like something worth celebrating to me.

Radio Show Playlist 5/23

6a:
1. Television - Marquee Moon - Marquee Moon (Elektra 1977)
2. Watchers - I Don't Want It - Vampire Driver (Gern Blandsten 2007)
3. Earth - Coda Masestoso in F (flat) Minor - Hibernaculum (Southern Lord 2007)
4. Dead Meadow - Greensky Greenlake - Dead Meadow (Tolotta 2001)
5. Black Moth Super Rainbow - Forever Heavy - Dandelion Gum (Graveface 2007)
6. Battles - Tonto - Mirrored (WARP 2007)
7. Mahjongg - rRABBITT - Raydoncorg (Cold Crush 2005)
8. Dan Deacon - Snake Mistake - Spiderman of the Rings (Carpark 2007)
9. Karl Blau - Put Me Back - Dance POSITIVE (Marriage 2007)

7a:
1. The National Trust - Secrets - Kings & Queens (Thrill Jockey 2006)
2. Aja West & Friends - The Getaway - Total Recall 2012 (Mackrosoft 2007)
3. Jamie Lidell - Multiply (in a Minor Key) - Multiply Additions (WARP 2006)
4. Experience 7 - Songe - Experience 7 (Isque Debs 1979)
5. Jay Mitchell - Mustang Sally - Cult Cargo: Grand Bahama Goombay (Numero Group 2007, recorded 1972)
6. Fela Kuti & Roy Ayers - Africa-Center of the World - Music of Many Colors (Phonodisk 1980)

8a:
1. Hausmeister - Ursula - Water-Wasser (Plop 2007)
2. Jim O'Rourke - Fuzzy Sun - Halfway to a Threeway EP (Drag City 1999)
3. Mice Parade - Sneaky Red - Mice Parade (FatCat 2007)
(Tickey Giveaway) 4. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Spread Your Love - B.R.M.C. (Virgin 2001)
(Request) 5. Wire - Men 2nd - Chairs Missing (Harvest 1978)
6. Sarolta Zalatnay - Itt a Nyar - Sarolta Zalatnay (B-Music 2007, recorded 197?)
7. Matthew Dear - Vine to Vine - Asa Breed (Ghostly International 2007)
8. My Sister Klaus - Kicks of Sand - Chateau Rogue (Tigersushi 2007)
9. John Cale - Paris 1919 - Paris 1919 (Reprise 1973)
10. Califone - Fisherman's Wife - Roomsound (Perishable 2001)
11. Spacemen 3 - Feel So Good - The Perfect Prescription (Genius 1987)

Vibracathedral Orchestra - "Wisdom Thunderbolt"

We're going to start doing things a little differently now. Jordan's been pretty busy moving and making and DJing and doing so much it would be impossible for him to write properly, which is what we're keen on here, natch. So while he takes an indefinite hiatus (I don't think he'll be breaking up), Michael and I will soldier on for now with a new format: Single post, single artist. The ultimate in minimalism.