Luis Gallardo - "Music for People Who Like Music"

Luis Gallardo - Aperibe (Self-released, 2007)

Luis Gallardo - Music for People Who Like Music

I doubt it was a coincidence that after the whole Billboard thing we were nominated for (and obviously didn't win... I think?), emails started piling up in my inbox from independent artists submitting random mp3s and telling us how much they loved our blog when they probably hadn't ever read it or heard the music on it before. We're definitely going for an aesthetic here, but what that is even we're not exactly sure yet. All we know is what Stereogum tells us is good.

But seriously, the inbox was flooded. I'm still sifting through some of it, actually, but it hasn't all been for nought. Luis Gallardo aka Redd of has been a genuinely pleasant surprise and a nice find, something refreshing and defiantly tropical in a time of year when brittle post-punk and disconnected avant-rock seem to be more apropos for the CD player I mean iPod I mean whatever you listen to.

Tropical is both an excellent way of describing the general feel of this jazzy album and a literal metaphor for Gallardo's home in Puerto Rico. He made his name working in the Georgia-based hip-hop collective Forbidden Dialect, who continue to operate and who I would also encourage you to check out. At the moment, Redd is helping to finish up the touches to Minus a Few's LP Sounds Like Change, which won't be long in coming. Details are a little spotty at the moment, but the five-week visit allowed Gallardo to stretch his considerable beat-making skills and a preview of one of those tracks can be found on the MySpace above.

The album reviewed here, Music for People Who Like Music, is actually from way back in 2006 but only formally hit the streets last year as best I can tell. In the time since, he's done production for Rype and made a breaks record of his own. The man likes to keep busy, but his music is mercifully uncomplicated in contrast.

At least sonically. There's a lot more going on than a cursory listen of Music for People Who Like Music might suggest. Between the imperial horn of "Leicester" or the echoing trip-hop ambiance of "Tippo" and the bluesy harmonica wallop of "Ripley" lies something overtly political. Proof can be taken in the clip from "Tippo," a poem well known to Puerto Ricans both at home and abroad and first read in 1969 by Pedro Pietri at a Young Lords rally. In its entirety here, this is the excerpt Gallardo uses:

They worked
They were always on time
They were never late
They never spoke back
when they were insulted
They worked
They never took days off
that were not on the calendar
They never went on strike
without permission
They worked
ten days a week
and were only paid for five
They worked
They worked
They worked
and they died
They died broke
They died owing
They died never knowing
what the front entrance
of the first national city bank looks like...

And all of this as preface to an otherwise harmless jazz-hop rhythm just as suited to the Inner Current label or maybe as a lost beat from Madlib's first Beat Konducta duet before he went curry on us. Despite its tropical guitar strums and palms swishing in the gentle winds on the shores of the Caribbean, there is a tropical storm that lurks beneath. "Tel Aviv" and "Lafayette" are two of the darkest tracks here, more in the vein of a scary Sixtoo joint than easy breezy laid-back island instrumentals. I would guess that Gallardo tried to contextualize his own sound in reference to the city which he has titled the vast majority of these 16 tracks, and the sometimes sinister air about them has made for a vibrant album that I'm very fortunate I gave a listen to.

The Forbidden Dialect collective are a busy bunch and it seems like they have plenty of projects keeping them busy well into the foreseeable future. Gallardo hasn't rested on the laurels of this LP (which probably makes sense given that I don't think I saw any press on this album last year) and as well he shouldn't, but his production sensibilities are as A-grade as anyone else we've featured here since we've started. We'll be keeping tabs on this lad to see what comes next, but for now, Music for People Who Like Music will suffice because it is just that. The irresistible horns of "Aperibe" dare you to disagree.

Chef Menteur - "The Answer's in Forgetting"

Chef Menteur - "Tonalli" (Backporch Revolution 2007)

Chef Menteur – The Answer’s in Forgetting / Backporch Revolution

“touts les rêves perdus et réalisés
à la novelle orléans”

On the lower right-hand corner inside the sparse one-fold booklet of Chef Menteur’s sophomore full-length, The Answer’s in Forgetting, this short phrase floats alone. Roughly translated (roughly because sadly I have no experience with French and am stuck trusting an assortment of free online translators): “all the lost and realized dreams in New Orleans”. Drifting in a murky painted setting where the land is made up of colored-over map pieces, the water is teal and light blue overrun by swabs of olive green and muddy brown, and in the sky looms an out-going black cloud, the context of the quote is obvious. It must be hard to reflect on anything else in the recovering southern American city, yet the remaining artists in residence have enough inspiration, despite it being more of the negative stimulus, to last for decades to come.

There are growths protruding from the painted body of water though, coral or pedicle-like structures perhaps symbolizing the life yearning to propagate once again from just beneath the surface. Seeds drift around the stalks, and dandelion clocks float through the air just above them. In the distance, varying lengths of connected stem and seed are congregating in a city-like structure. It is a dimly hued painting scattered with symbols of regrowth, an analogy obvious to the city of New Orleans and a worthy one for the music of the Crescent City-based Chef Menteur.

The overall tone of The Answer’s in Forgetting doesn’t stray too far from the caliginous setting of the artwork. The studio-barricaded three-piece – only two of which remain from the band’s 2005 debut, We Await Silent Tristero’s Empire – make good use of warmly resonating feedback and duskish synthesizers as background color to each track. With that setting in place, they purvey a Constellation-friendly brand of stadium-sized post-rock with occasional excursions into other sub-styles: the Southwestern-teased instrumental rock of Friends of Dean Martinez, the apocalyptic emotion of Sigur Ros, the sprawling alternative metal of godheadSilo (of which newest member, multi-instrumentalist Dan Haugh, stems from) and the exotic explorations of Cul de Sac.

This more rock-oriented turn by the band may discourage fans of their initial release, which was dubbed more in the electronica direction. More often than not with this second attempt, the trio – joined briefly by banjo and sitar player Brian Abbott – ditch the curious oscillating synth swirls and snipped drum machine rhythms for the hugely pummeling drums and atmospherically sweeping guitar melodies that have pretty much lined every album classified as post-rock since Mogwai, Sigur Ros and Godspeed! took super-indie status at the turn of the millennium. It may not be the smartest or most intriguing move for a band looking to develop their sound in new directions to a wider audience.

That being said, The Answer’s in Forgetting does not completely let down; the highlights just come from the more unsuspecting sections of the record. The menacing chirp of tapped analog synthesizers creeping in the background of the impending, feedback-drenched “Parasitic Oscillation” surely reflects the ominous nighttime environment of post-hurricane New Orleans. And it leads into a rather warm “Tonalli”, a patiently shuffling, effect-heavy number reminiscent of the overlooked Lateduster. Where songs like “1491” and “Goodbye Callisto” rumble on past the seven-minute mark, never really introducing a particularly individual element, a track like “OT III” clocks in at barely two-and-a-half minutes but its intriguing interaction between a twangy banjo and a buzzing sitar with swelling synthesizer tones anchoring makes for a much more fulfilling listen.

Despite a few woes in their stylistic progression, the important aspect here is that Chef Menteur (and any other New Orleans-based artists for that matter) is back to recording material in the confines of and inspired by their hometown. Like their immediate surroundings, The Answer’s in Forgetting is the product of being in a state of regrowth. Perhaps before pushing forward, one needs to return to what one knows best. Collect your thoughts, remember your roots, learn from your mistakes, and then, as the album’s title seems to imply, you forget the immediate past and move on. Maybe this is just their recollection, their stem’s regrowth before they can once again flower. I’ll be interested to hear the band in blossom.

Radio Show Playlist: 1/30/08

6a:
1. Royal Trux - Back to School - Singles, Live and Unreleased (Domino 1997)
2. Black Mountain - Wucan - In the Future (Jagjaguwar 2008)
3. Earthless - Cherry Red - Rhythms from a Cosmic Sky (Tee Pee 2007)
4. Human Bell - Ephaphatha (Be Opened) - Human Bell (Thrill Jockey 2007)
5. Sam Shalabi - Billy the Kid (pt. 2) - Eid (Alien8 2008)
6. Kamilsky - Krumpaci Zasrany - Post-Asiatic: Lost War Dream Music (Urck 2007)
7. Nemeth - Luukkaankangas - Film (Thrill Jockey 2008)
8. Atlas Sound - On Guard - Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel (Kranky 2008)
9. Valet - Kehaar - Naked Acid (Kranky 2008)

7a:
1. Lichens - Vevor of Agassou - Omns (Kranky 2007)
2. Chef Menteur - 1491 - The Answer's in Forgetting (Backporch Revolution 2007)
3. HiM - What's Up Tonight - Peoples (Bubblecore 2006)
4. Tortoise/Autechre - Adverse Chamber - Adverse Chamber/To Day Retrival 12" (Thrill Jockey 1998)
5. Sao Paulo Underground - Pombaral - Sauna: Um, Dois, Tres (Aesthetics 2006)
6. Music Inc. (Charles Tolliver, Stanley Cowell, Cecil McBee & Jimmy Hopps) - Felicite - Live at Sugs' Vol. 1 (Strata-East 1972)
7. Nicole Mitchell's Black Earth Ensemble - Cause & Effect - Black Unstoppable (Delmark 2007)
8. Max Roach: His Chorus & Orchestra - Lonesome Lovers - It's Time (Impulse! 1962)

8a:
1. Matana Roberts & Fred Anderson - Birdhouse 3 - The Chicago Project (Central Control 2008)
2. Vieux Farka Toure - Toure de Niafunke feat. Toumani Diabate - Vieux Farka Toure (World Village 2007)
3. Orchestra Baobab - Jin Ma Jin Ma - A Night at Club Baobab (Oriki 2006)
4. Extra Golden - Osama Rach - Ok-Oyot System (Thrill Jockey 2006)
5. Mahjongg - Problems - Kontpab (K 2008)
6. Cornelius - Gum (Prefuse 73 Flavor Burst Rock Gum Mix) - Gum 12" (Everloving 2007)
7. Spiller Whale - Raptures & Drynessess - Fresh Tables EP (Uncle Grandpa 2007)
8. School of Language - Rockist (single mix) - Sea From Shore (Thrill Jockey 2008)
9. Rafter - zzzPenchant - Sex Death Cassette (Asthmatic Kitty 2008)
10. Pants Yell! - Reject, Reject - Alison Statton (Soft Abuse 2008)

Mahjongg - "Kontpab"

Mahjongg - "Problems" (K 2008)

Mahjongg – Kontpab / K

As the opening track “Pontiac” rumbles out of the back alleyway of Southside Chicago and into my speakers, with its duct-taped metallic and plastic entrails loosely hanging and clattering together in a claustrophobic-yet-groovy rhythm, I immediately remember why, despite my weak stomach for indie-dance whatever, I have always had a warm place in my ear’s heart for Mahjongg. They have the ability to exist outside the chic underground music spectrum, while still appealing to the current crowd. The Chicago-based band, strapped shoulder high in analog synthesizers, crisscrossed wiring, samplers sampling samplers, digital drum pads, hand percussion, modified guitars and ear-encapsulating headphones, can transform an art space from humdrum carousing and whispered snobbery into a massive bulge of simultaneously grooving hipsters. Their music and appearance appeals as much to the collective-obsessed freak-folkers as it does the trashy, neon-make-up plastered dance-punks, not to mention the current wave of fans obsessing over the weirdly exotic-sounding Brooklyn bands (a movement paralleling the mid-80s realization that there are other styles of music outside the States), and you know, us, the writers with keyboard-glued fingers that refuse to listen to anything unless it is derived from Can.

Mahjongg first appeared in 2004 on the short-lived Derek Fudesco imprint Cold Crush Records. It was instant love for me. I mean c’mon, the first track of their debut Machinegong EP, a dubby Gang of Four-derived dance-punk number featuring these barely understandable, odd, insular and atonal vocals, was titled “Jamdek”! That same simple-yet-clever wordplay translates within their music. The riffs and rhythms are not necessarily overtly complicated, in fact, most of them are rather rudimentary, but the way they layer and mold, building songs vertically through a patchwork of archaic effects forces multiple listens before you even begin to crack the substratum of the music.

Kontpab, Mahjongg’s second proper full-length and first for the venerable Northwest label K Records, stays true to their established sound. The grooves and melodies are a bit more refined and patient than their previous releases, but thankfully the recording and retro-instrumental aesthetic remains heartily intact. Their sound derives from a number of sources: early 70s European krautrock (Can, Neu!, Faust, Harmonia), 70s NYC avant-garde rock (Silver Apples, Suicide), 80s dance-punk (Gang of Four, Public Image Ltd, Wire), an odd collection of more contemporary acts (Dub Narcotic Sound System, Chik Chik Chik, Timbaland, the GSL roster, Konono N°1) and the manic polyrhythms of more traditional African and Cuban music. Claustrophobic yes, unharnessable no.

After the percussion-heavy opener, “Problems” reverts to a simple boom-bap beat. Funky-snipped guitar riffs, early rap synth effects and glockenspiel twinkles join a heaving synthesizer melody. There are vocals, but they are patched dryly through a vocoder and utilized in the same manner you would a sample, so they act as yet another rhythmic device. “Those Birds are Bats” displays more of an anthemic approach from the band, complete with yell-along vocals and steady drum kit backbeat. They do however bury any sense of accessibility deep into the mix, letting weirdly pulsing guitar pings take the forefront and smoldering the main riff in a kaleidoscope of analog feedback and old-school psychedelic effects. Near the end of the disc, “Mercury” sounds like the Silver Apples jamming with Prince; a slightly sexy, spaced-out number that simultaneously spins in the orbit of psych-funk and obscuro art-rock.

I am glad to see Mahjongg reaching for bigger and better things now that they are signed with K Records. Most of the Cold Crush bands have dwindled and dissolved in the wake of the imprint’s demise. Their music, crossing both genre and crowd boundaries, remains handmade and collective influenced, but still sounds as if they are progressing as songwriters… well groove-makers. The analog patching makes for a refreshingly lo-fi sound, one that tends to escape most dance-punk purveyors as they can’t seem to shake the now ominous (and annoying) Daft Punk influence, which makes their new label home much more sensible. There may be some religious – er, cultish – aspect to Kontpab as well, though I’m guessing that is more just the product of a clever K press writer, but I can certainly see how Mahjongg’s music could groove you into a devout hypnosis.

Singleversity #42

Audiversity’s weekly column, slightly modified, on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 132

MA:



With the first gaggle of 2008 releases from Chicago’s Thrill Jockey Records comes the follow-up to the excellent debut from the Rob Mazurek-helmed Exploding Star Orchestra, We are all from somewhere else. (which is also now available in a limited, beautiful looking and sounding double gatefold 180g LP). Bill Dixon with Exploding Star Orchestra finds Mazurek teaming up with the similar-minded free jazz trumpeter Bill Dixon (duh). A bit more sprawling than the previous release, Dixon utilizes the darkly glowing backdrops to propel his intensely poetic and spacey solos. Think a combination of Don Cherry, Art Ensemble of Chicago, Sun Ra, Modern Jazz Quartet and the Chicago Underground concoctions. Each of the three tracks is in the 20-minute range, but here is an edited excerpt of the first track, “Entrances/One”.

PM:



Jakob Ludwig Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy cropped up this week and inspired me to go back through some of his works at random to see what I could find. As ever, the fastest route was through YouTube; the esteemed talents of Jacqueline du Pré and her equally talented mother Iris are on display here for the German composer’s Lieder ohne Worte, part of an eight-cycle composition of six songs each that was only finished two years before the Hamburg-born composer passed away in 1847. A life’s work that morphed as Mendelssohn’s ear did (though he has been regarded as one of the more conservative/subtle composers of the era), Songs without Words only needed to be played, ahem, once to catch my ear. As you can see, I am not quite so subtle.

Earth - "The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull"

Earth - Hung From the Moon (Southern Lord 2008)

Earth - The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull / Southern Lord

Duh nuh nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh. If there were ever three words to describe Dylan Carlson's ongoing doom-drone archetype, those would be something pretty close. The Seattle native has been helming this planet of ours for nearly two decades now, but after bursting out with a few fresh releases at the turn of the 1990s, Carlson retreated quietly while Earth went on the backburner, standing still as the world turned around it. Last year's welcomed Hibernaculum arose a slumbering beast, but it wasn't quite as fresh a return as you might've expected; after all, three of the four tracks were staples of the group's live show and the fourth was from a Sunn0))) split.

The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull, Earth's sixth proper full-length, is thus the true milemarker of what's happened to this band in 18 years, or at least since the dawn of the millennium. The results are interesting; this turn of light has revealed a band that sounded very dark and withdrawn just one year ago. The cover art says it all in a round-about way: Though there is still the theme of decay, traces of color hint at something else, from purple to red to that eternal speck of hope: green.

Oh sure, it starts with "Omens and Portents I: The Driver." What better way to kill the hope of that colorful album art than by making the opening track the most foreboding on the record? Carlson's sense of humor is there, but in addition to his usual cronies, there is added guitar texture from an unlikely source: Jazz guitar great Bill Frisell. The chicken-and-egg scenario of which came first - Carlson's decision to try something a little different or Frisell's presence adding an extra head to come up with something creative - doesn't really have an effect on this opening track. It is most like Old Earth in its unrelenting brutality. It may be my favorite track, but not by much. I've heard it before, so naturally I am comfortable with its familiarity.

Duh nuh nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh. That's what you'd expect spelled out from "Rise to Glory," just like you'd expect it from the rest of their expansive, post-apocalyptic onslaught. But hear those skewed guitars? Sounds a little like Japancakes, doesn't it? And maybe "Rise to Glory" isn't exactly an overt nod to the country-tinged drone-rockers from Georgia, but even through the discordant heap of thundering guitar downstrokes, a faint trail of slide guitar and tinkling piano breathe a straw of life into what would otherwise feel like "I Am Legend" without Will Smith: At once horrifying and relieving. It's just fiction, right? Relax.

And so the great transition of the band - from duh nuh nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh to nuh nuh nuuuuueeeeeeeuuuuw - occurs right from the get-go of the second song. Frisell only played on three of the album's seven songs ("Engine of Ruin" and "Omens and Portents II: Carrion Crow" are the others), and he can be heard when he is present, but Carlson has taken a new direction and it involves a few new tricks for an old dog.

Oh, and piano. Earth is traditionally all about guitar heaviness disintegrating your eardrums at a tenth of the speed of normal bands. But what the hell is this? Zombi man Steve Moore's piano playing on "Hung From the Moon"? Are you hearing a Radiohead ballad-to-be like I am? (Correction: Maybe it sounds like a ballad, but Steve Moore from Zombi it is not. - Ed.) At a still-respectable 7m43s, "Hung From the Moon" is one of the glimmering highlights of an album of otherwise intriguing new heights. The pace is still as glacial as ever, but those cymbals and that grand piano dominating the spotlight push the mammoth guitar tones to the back. It won't be for the last time either, because Carlson uses the piano to his great benefit for the title-track that closes the record out on a very different note from where we started.

And where we thought we'd be, for that matter. Doom-drone says Wikipedia, but I am no longer wont to agree. This is a brave new world, planet, earth that is. This is the sound of resurrection, of coming out of the caves of doom and into the brave new world of post-ambient post-metal post-rock post-thinking about how heavy it can be and making something beautiful instead. There is a deep-rooted beauty in The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull that no hex could ever prevent blossoming. The bees are making honey in the mouth of the beast. The lion is dead; long live the king. I expect Rafiki knew all along.

Mike Ladd - "Nostalgialator"

Mike Ladd - Trouble Shot (!K7 2004; re-released Def Jux 2008)

Mike Ladd - Nostalgialator / Def Jux

This has been out for over three years, so fresh assessment of Mike Ladd's Nostalgialator is impossible. That said, the ubiquity of blogs was a lot less prevalent in 2004 than it is now, so perhaps this good word will put out the word that much faster. Mike Ladd. This story starts with Mike Ladd.

Ladd was not initially a musician, choosing instead the poetry route which in fact won him the Nuyorican Poets Café Slam and got him published for 1996's intriguing racial analysis "In Defense of Mumia." The turn to music was never really complete - in between releasing albums such as Easy Listening 4 Armageddon and Father Divine under his own name and a few others under side projects like The Infesticons and Majesticons, respectively - Ladd was able to find time to write for Bostonia and Long Shot Review. Needless to say, the man has a colorful history that includes moving from Boston to Paris, where he currently lives.

The City of Light is an appropriate place to begin a re-evaluation of Nostalgialator three years on from its European debut and near-release in the US. So much has happened to music in the intervening years, but the big story in the last year at least has been Paris and the collective of DJs/artists/hangers-on that have made dancing not just fun but fashionable again. "We Are Your Friends" came out in 2004, but who's to say Xavier and Gaspard didn't take note of the giant, in-your-face electro-rock-hop this album is doused in? Daft Punk is not necessarily the alpha and the omega.

"Dire Straits Plays Nuremberg" is a fine example. The distorted synths add music to the heavily echoed recording and massive applause for what one can only assume is Dire Straits. It functions as an amped-up opener to get you ready for what's to come. That is to say, anything and everything, and you should be prepared. "Trouble Shot" drives the point home. Asteroid lasers and 70s funk brass turn up the heat for a busy afro rocker that turns into a Italo-disco war rant out of nowhere. Mixing politics and the solar system, Ladd destroys the boundaries of space and then time when we fly back to the main hook.

This is the delicate balance that Ladd conducts throughout the album. Between the full-on adrenaline rush of dirty synthesizers and brass bands and the lilting electro of decades never really past. 60s funk and soul, 70s disco and dance, 80s synths in overdrive, 90s sampling and sourcing, eternal themes, and there at the center of it all is Ladd, trying to hold it together. "Wild Out Day" is a great example of how it nearly blows apart halfway through with its break-neck pace. And then, just when it seems like it can't get itself under control, just at that point where a listener decides that there's no point in keeping up...

Then Nostalgialator takes its breather. Sorely needed, the spoken-word roots return for "How Electricity Really Works." This track is an anomaly, a dreamy, Mario-underwater ballad that floats on the illuminated synths and subtle brass touches. Yeah, Subtle. They were probably paying attention to this, too. Where was everyone else?

"Off to Mars?" keeps things slower, with no rush to return to the manic first half. The backside of the album keeps itself together at a much more sedate pace (with the exception of "Afrotastic") and cements Nostalgialator as an album very much running the gamut of emotion and expression. This is the essence of Mike Ladd. By using his numerous artistic potions to concoct something potent, Ladd caught the shape of Paris to come. By extension, he caught the musical landscape just as it was beginning another upheaval. It's too bad I wasn't paying as much attention to !K7 in 2004 as I am now, because I would've been all over this even more than I am now. But maybe this is for the best. Maybe Ladd christened it Nostalgialator for a reason: We can look back just as we look forward, commemorating and defiling as we go. Young and invincible and full of it. Nostalgialator is.

Quinn Walker - "Laughter's An Asshole / Lion Land"

Quinn Walker - Smile for Me (Voodoo-Eros 2008)

Quinn Walker - Laughter's An Asshole / Lion Land / Voodoo-Eros

A few weeks ago, Michael remarked to me candidly that he was getting back to his "country roots" - not so much the part about dipping Skoal and fishin' on the river and drinking Southern Comfort on the river all day, but more the part about Willie Nelson and Shooter Jennings and outlaw country from across the South. Good thing, too, because I don't think we could've stayed on speaking terms for the, um, "revival" without me rolling my eyes at him in public over and over.

For most of these past few weeks, I've been playing Eurotrash Ibiza fetishizer to his Good Ol' Boy bubba. But Quinn Walker led me to an unexpected place and got me out of the minimalist rut that I'd dug myself in since the beginning of December. With a massive two-disc compilation of wholeheartedly organic psych-folk, Mr. Walker's debut cracks 2008 open with an expansive scope copping all sorts of sweeping gestures and infusing grandiosity to songs begging to be taken to the big-time.

It is interesting to note, then, that with an iconic Southern drawl on tracks like "Chicken Wire," Quinn in fact hails from Brooklyn. And initially you don't see it. You wait to hear for all the weirdo hipster bedroom fucking around that could only come with a Brooklyn ZIP code. The body of instruments is massive in the grand traditions of Sufjan Stevens or Architecture in Helsinki to the point that the drums, the tambourines, the maracas, whatever the hell else is stuffed in there feels just a little too cluttered. Somehow, through all of that, crystalline melodies appear and you find yourself pushing repeat. Which is weird, because if you've only made it three songs in to the first disc, you haven't got a clue about what's going on here.

For what discussion there's been of Walker's double-disc debut, most seems to revolve around the pastiche of instruments that work their way into otherwise innocuous tracks. There's definitely a glut of sound recalling everybody from TV on the Radio's Siteknics to The Dirty Projectors' erratic melodies no one will ever really duplicate to Andrew Douglas Rothbard's steamy bayou folk-after-dark to Ariel Pink, end sentence. And I mean these in the best possible way: There are so many reference points that it no longer becomes functional to simply namedrop. That's the very definition of a good album. We are most fortunate to have received two at once.

But even though the numerous studio tricks don't seem forced or even excessive (Pacing is everything, and a perfect balance between orchestral opulence and plucked isolation has been struck here), what they do is take away from a very critical part of the success of this album: the innate greatness of the songwriting. Beneath the layers of choral swooning and Casios and whatever else Walker could find in his closet lies a collection of songs that could work as well in a concert hall as in an old money frat house. This adaptability makes for a universal enjoyment that even the most staunch country conservative would find acceptable and, dare I say, enjoyable... Just beware Lion Land. It functions as the quieter nocturnal moonlight werewolf to Laughter's An Asshole's brimming brightness.

Look, we can't all be Panda Bear and write Person Pitch and let the media take over. Some guys have to take those same oddball psych influences and twist them into something new, creative, original and make their own reward. Quinn Walker is one of them. Don't be fooled by all of the Brooklyn references you've gotten in this particular review (not to mention the handful of others); Walker is writing some very alternative country, and it sounds great. Throw back some more Jim Beam, sing along to any number of these songs, and you'll see what I mean - "When you get wasted, you still walk a perfectly straight line," he sings on "Rita Lolita." That's what this record is about. It's intoxicated with psychedelia and yet still manages to walk a perfectly straight line South, back to the sticks, back to the roots, back to the dusty trails of the Appalachians. Quinn Walker may live in Brooklyn, but his musical heart lives elsewhere. Ours too, maybe.

Sascha Funke - "Mango"

Sascha Funke - Take a Chance With Me (Bpitch Control 2008)

Sascha Funke - Mango / Bpitch Control

Ah! Few things on earth please me as much as a new Bpitch Control release (even if it's only a single - Thanks a lot for making me wait, Ben Klock...). My love for Berlin minimalism was born with this label and everything surrounding it - sometimes you just have to block out the wordpress and press play to see what the hot fuss is about. I've busied myself excavating Berlin and beyond ever since, but ground zero for me will always be Ellen Allien's imprint.

As with anything though, you play favorites. Sascha Funke has never been my go-to guy for some reason. Despite the relative strength of 2003's Bravo, Funke's steady stream of output (which includes a slew of 12s and remixes for various artists that continues even now) never registered on my radar. Or maybe it was just that I was suspicious of his Günther-esque facial hair and press foto-posturing. Whatever the case, visiting Mango was something I felt necessary to at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

For the record, Sascha Funke has grown up. There is a reserved air of maturity about Mango that can be evidenced in songs such as "Take a Chance With Me," a track that has these glowing synths and beats that crackle with the same vinyl blip as LCD Soundsystem's "Someone Great." You know what I'm talking about, where the beat is just so muted that it sounds like it's struggling simply to go on at all. Plucked guitars slowly phased in and out give it a "Miami Vice" feel, but it never explodes into an overwrought celebration of self-pity. The emotion is reserved, for better or worse, sleazier or safer. It is smarter. It is sleeker.

It would seem, then, that all of those remixes of Télépopmusik and Gui Boratto and his fellow Bpitchers have helped him crystallize his own sound. As the beat snaps its fingers in on the first single, "Double Checked," Funke plays it cool enough to ensure that Mango will endure at least long enough to be one of minimal's heaviest hitters in the first quarter of '08. Beyond, who knows? But at least Funke has shown that he is capable of running with the big guns, and not just through association via label or remix.

It pleases me that the warm synthesizers and nods to both early-80s Italo and post-millennial minimalism are so prevalent on this record. Mango is the sound of a man who has worked hard to get where he is, and in so doing has reached a level of completeness that he had previously only been hinting at. Ripe with summer and winter jams alike, Sascha Funke has delivered an album that demands attention by pushing it away. "Du bist okay," says the headline on MySpace. Appropriate in that sense, and like the music, an extension of the man behind it. Delivered with a wink and loving every coy second. We the people? Well, we'll just dance to it, thanks very much. Yeah Sascha, you are okay. Just don't stop because we think you're better than that. Okay? Okay. Yeah. You're okay. Stay that way.

Matana Roberts Quartet - "The Chicago Project"

Matana Roberts Quartet - "Thrills" (Central Control 2008)

Matana Roberts Quartet – The Chicago Project / Central Control

It has gotten to the point where I think it is justifiable to use the AACM as a subgenre tag within jazz. It is certainly not because the long-lived non-profit Chicago organization schools artists in a redundant style of progressive jazz; it’s because the highly talented members and students all seem to emit a specific vibe of spirituality, and in turn specific sound quality, with their music. With an ethos of obsessively forward-pushing experiments, the music of AACM members tends to encounter a cross-section of stylistic jazz niches: post-bop, modal, modern creative, free, avant-garde, experimental big band, soul-jazz, African and Afro-Cuban. It never settles on a singular method, instead letting the player reflect on the elder statesmen of the group, and then forcing the individual to look inside to create their own idiosyncratic sound. The adjectives ‘earthy’ and ‘spiritual’ almost always come to mind, and for good reason. This is emotional music, never straight cacophony and never simply melodious. It’s music that speaks to that inner ear and the complexities of human emotions.

The now NYC-based reedist Matana Roberts is one of the youngest current members of the AACM. She heartily enlivens the ethos established by her senior teachers, including developing her own musical concept (Panoramic Sound Quilting) to build a series of sound-montage based concerts (Life Lines) and a specific on-going familial and ancestral narrative called Coin Coin. And in the same breath, she is able to exist and contribute in contemporary music’s interlocking collaborations, appearing on recordings by Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Daniel Givens, Savath y Savalas, Guillermo E. Brown, and as a member of Sticks and Stones, amongst many others. For her latest venture as a bandleader, Roberts has formed a quartet with three of her fellow hometown luminaries, all interestingly enough of about the same age. With guitarist Jeff Parker, bassist Josh Abrams and drummer Frank Rosaly, The Chicago Project is a prime example of Chicago’s contemporary AACM sound. Behind Roberts exhaustively emotional alto saxophone, the band lulls and shrills, pleads and exclaims, croons and wails, all the while blurring the lines between easily-defined stylistic tags and singular expressions.

The most accessible and thematic of the pieces, “Thrills”, comes early in the hour-long album. Parker introduces one of those rousing and cyclical electric guitar phrases that have become his penchant as Tortoise’s chief melody-maker with Roberts closely in tow. Rosaly’s increasingly chaotic drum rolls spur Roberts to drop into counterpoint before everyone releases just in time for Abrams to deeply pluck a husky bass line that is downright bluesy. After returning to the theme a number of times in the first half of the song, the track breaks down into clustering individual and seemingly improvised lines by each player never again reintroducing the initial phrase. “Nomra” is also deserves special mention as Roberts’ saxophone takes on a warm and somber tonal quality. Somewhat a lulling tune, it would evoke reflections of Coltrane’s late-50s Prestige output (especially Lush Life), if only Grant Green would have been part of the session.

On three tracks, Roberts is solely joined by Fred Anderson, one of her most notable influences and a founding member of the AACM. Anderson’s full, bluesy tone swings perfectly with Roberts’ more cutting quality. Each of the dichromatic songs, “Birdhouse 1”, “Birdhouse 2” and “Birdhouse 3”, features a sort of theme setting-and-reaction call-and-response from the two saxophonists. Both players sound perfectly in tune with each other stylistically as they trade and interlace aerobic lines of improvisation. As each track progresses, you almost lose track of which tone belongs to which player.

Despite now residing in New York City, the Chicago spirit and AACM sound will never be completely lost on Roberts, not that I suspect the move was to try and distance herself from her upbringing. It very well could have been an attempt to spread her learned sound and influence other players in a new geographic location. Either way, The Chicago Project is a prime example of what excellent, forward-pushing-yet-rooted music the younger generation of AACM members is capable of producing. It can almost be looked at as the contemporary sound of the legendary institution. And on a completely surface level, it is just a fine jazz record.

If you are looking for a good way to beat the cold this Tuesday night (1/22), I will be spinning all the hot jams at The Burlington (3425 W. Fullerton Ave., Chicago). And by hot jams, I mean less club bangers, more funky jazz, jazzy funk, soul, rap, reggae, Brazilian, African and whatever else we can come up with from the last few decades. No cover, good vibes.

Singleversity #41

Audiversity’s weekly column, slightly modified, on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 74

MA:



What a fascinating and endearing set of music Arthur Russell’s Instrumentals 1974 (especially "InstrumentalsA") can be to slightly jaded ears. Russell’s electric cello is buried in the distant corner of the grooving, guitar-woodwind-and-hand percussion mix, but his yearning melodies tint the track a languishing hue. In typical Russell habit, the piece was shelved after its initial test pressing, but Audika was kind enough to include it as part of 2005’s reissue First Thought Best Thought.

PM:















I've been floating between Montreal and San Diego this past week. As a tidy capstone and for a different kind of Gravity separate from Silver Mt. Zion, Clikatat Ikatowi will go down in history as yet another underappreciated San Diego punk act with a penchant for violent noise and careful catharsis. Not up for the group's affiliate acts in Heroin, Thingy or the Black Heart Procession? Try "Affirmation" from 1996's Orchestrated & Conducted instead.

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band - "13 Blues for Thirteen Moons"

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band - 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons (Constellation 2008)

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band - 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons / Constellation

Where are any of us going with post-rock anymore? Increasingly, the musical community finds itself wandering down blind alleys and subterranean Turkish baths struggling to find new territory to cover to make it post-rock, to make it post-anything, or simply to make it bearable for themselves. Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Mogwai knew. We could've called the whole thing off with Slow Riot for New Zerø Kanada and been done with it. Maybe going as late as Panopticon would be acceptable.

But here are Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band still forging away on the cooling irons of post-rock corpses past. 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons is the collective's fifth album since their formation in 1999. One of the critical reasons for Montreal's veritable explosion on the world stage, Silver Mt. Zion has had a fruitful history full of lengthy tracks (and equally lengthy titles) that were originally intended to further Godspeed guitarist Efrim Menuck's understanding of how to score music. 2005's Horses in the Sky was the last attempt, and even though the punchlines were already in place by then, Silver Mt. Zion defied boredom by finally utilizing that tool which Godspeed had strived to avoid for so long: their own voice.

For this album, Menuck and company have fully embraced vocals, a complete turn-around from a decade ago when politically charged clips would've sufficed. You wouldn't know that from the first dozen songs on here because, as it so happens, each of them are 11 seconds long: One elongated, unrecognized (in the liner notes), untitled drone broken up on its way to the four songs that form the white-hot nucleus loaded up at the end of this release.

It is worth noting at this point that none of these songs are new; each has been presented to the public over the course of the last three years, and while live album Fuck You Drakulas sits patiently waiting for the right moment to be released, Silver Mt. Zion carry on with what Constellation Records has described as "heavy." Thankfully, they are right.

Of course you knew that, though. Aren't all post-rock albums supposed to feel at least a little hefty? But this isn't heavy in the weigh, sorry, way you'd expect. The music without vocals would've still been spectacular on its own (and evidence of the tense string section during the title-track is proof enough), but Menuck's higher pitched vocals add an interesting foil that brings a human element to a genre steeped in Zeusian vocabulary. Thundering guitars, towering drums, you've heard it all before. But have you heard it like this? "The hangman's got a hard-on," he sings with the music at its absolute quietest. Fade it all back in. Post-rock, no. Classical, no. Film score, no. Yes. No. Aye. Hey. No, I don't think you have.

Echo the vocals, swell the usual chorus and come back to earth. It's like Silver Mt. Zion have ripped pages out of Win Butler's neon bible and thrown it right in to the Montreal melting pot they signify so well. Increasingly, as the plucked strings of "Blindblindblind" rise up to close the album on a poignant note, you realize that 13 Blues for Thirteen Moons is not just the latest ex-Godspeed side-project release (an incredibly naive judgment); it is not simply another Silver Mt. Zion album to complete the handful; it is Montreal. I've used this argument before - that a single album can define a city - and perhaps that cheapens the argument. But a few years removed from Apologies to the Queen Mary and a few more removed from F#A#∞, now might be the best time to take in the full effect of what's happening up there.

From the alien(eight) outsiders dug into the hills of Mount Royal to the most visible insiders lurking around La Rue St. Denis, Silver Mt. Zion are capturing it as it's happening in long, vibrant scrawls. There have been better post-rock albums and maybe there are still great post-rock albums to come, but this group isn't interested in defying convention. It is interested in shaping that cooling iron into the likeness of the city it came from, wedged between rivers and tides, with a giant fucking sphere its most notable landmark. They have a science museum in there, you know. It's kid's stuff, but at the top you can see half of Montreal at a time, see it all, captured, as it's happening. Long, vibrant scrawls of blue in a baker's dozen. I hope to be fortunate enough to return one day.

Solarminds - "A Lighthouse for the Sun"

Solarminds - Then Came the Night (Mind Altering RecordS 2008)

Solarminds - A Lighthouse for the Sun / Mind Altering RecordS

Though they're from a city known more for Drive Like Jehu and Swing Kids, San Diego's Solarminds speak to a past much further back than even cursory listens which suggest The Brian Jonestown Massacre or Swans or Spiritualized (or even Joy Division and Massive Attack, whom they were lodged between for their radio debut on Local 94.9 FM) at their mind-bending best. Solarminds are fundamentally ancient. This is ancient music.

There are the obvious milemarkers for such an observation. Not to say that religion is outmoded, but the titles alone suggest something steeped in reverence with words like salvation, prayers, worshiping and so on. The mood has been established before you ever press play merely through their choice of song titles.

For its part, the music goes a long way toward building an epic Gregorian chant kind of ambiance. "My Salvation (Drifting)" starts off innocently enough with what is either windchimes or bells ringing in a remarkable album in the most unremarkable of ways. Clearly, patience pays and Solarminds are in no mood to rush. Taking cues from their aforementioned influences, the band's willingness to use standard instruments like heavily-effected guitars alongside a less standard instrument such as the harp allows them a great deal of freedom to roam throughout your headphones.

They don't make the listening easy. "My Salvation (A Way)" - one of six variations on the "My Salvation" theme - stretches some nine minutes long... And though its propulsion allows it to feel like significantly less time, the band's careful conglomeration of sounds and unifying themes means that the whole first half of the album really functions more as one hyper-extended jam than as individual tracks. But what a jam it is. You'll have to hit the MySpace to hear the whole thing in its opulent entirety.

The vocals also evoke a Gregorian air in another, more basic way: The treatment of the vocals. Single syllables are stretched out in a grand melisma that would've impressed Gregory the Great himself. The pitch of the notes fluctuates wildly and it is clear that the lyrics play more as instrument than narrative. Voices are used sparingly and find themselves as texture more than talent (Instrumentals such as "Then Came the Night" and more airy spaces continue to dominate the second half of the album). This restraint has allowed a more unified album, a better togetherness. Yank Crime it ain't.

At its most base description, A Lighthouse for the Sun is a band in love with space-rock and shoegaze and post-rock and maybe a little noise-pop. But it's also none of those things. It's a record steeped in a history dating back hundreds of years and modernized to be put in terms of what the average music listener knows rather than what musicology students study. If Urck had a name for this album, perhaps it would've been this: Post-Religious Dream Music. Dare to dream, indeed.

School of Language - "Sea From Shore"

School of Language - "Rockist Part 4" (Thrill Jockey 2008)

School of Language – Sea From Shore / Thrill Jockey

I suppose it’s only appropriate that the opening moments of the initial song on the debut record from School of Language would be an exercise in displacing phonetic sounds. Sampling his own enunciations of vowel intonation, Sunderland, England’s David Brewis creates a buoyant backdrop to color his smart pop-rock songwriting with shades of bright curiousness. “I feel you might have taken / too long / for me to feel” Brewis begins as he strings the phonetic symbols into a tapestry of the English language. He sets the stage for his lyrical obsession early: the relationships between people and how strong a variable the notion of time plays within those connections. Every individual is traveling along his or her own plane of nonspatial continuum, a chronological subjectivity of perception. For a relationship to work, not only do personalities and interests need to mesh, but also the paths of individuals need to cross at an epoch where both are ready to accept such an adventure. It’s a complicated process ran mostly by instincts, and it’s absolutely fascinating when you sit down and attempt to break it down. Brewis is striving to do just that with his debut solo record, Sea From Shore, released on Chicago’s venerable Thrill Jockey Records, under the nom de plume, School of Language. As seen above, he obviously gets stuck in reflective, circular, and often times, confusing statements; good thing the man is a master of pop-rock melody as well.

As one-third of the art-pop indie-rock outfit Field Music, Brewis, along with his brother Peter and Andrew Moore, gained almost immediate critical success in their brief three-year existence. An offshoot of neighboring act The Futureheads, the Sunderland trio elaborated on XTC-derived jagged pop-rock by carrying a post-punk aesthetic into chamber-pop territory. Thanks to their irresistible melodic hooks and clever songcraft, the boys charmed critics and swooned most indie-rock audiences. As a solo performer, Brewis doesn’t askew too far from the established structure. His compositions always chug at an uplifting pace, but never one single mph faster. He sets a melody and layers accordingly, highlighting the hooking tones with distortion and hearty amplification, and laying a bass line underneath that always seems to lilt the track with a buoyant fervor. And then there are the impeccable vocal harmonics. I imagine a young David’s record collection must have been overflowing with Beach Boys and Bee Gees LPs.

To be honest, there is not really a lackluster track on the record. As far as personal preference though, the gentle jerking of “Marine Life” takes the prize. Brewis’s supernatant falsetto coils around a simple, start-stop electric guitar hook that seems to continuously expand and layer, jittery, post-punk drumming, a jovial bass line and a climaxing harmonica swell. You want to sing along, but there is just too much going on. The collaborative effort, “Disappointment ‘99” which features both Barry Hyde and David Craig of The Futureheads, is also a highlight, though it resides more in the power-pop realms. With seemingly home-recorded tribal drums pummeling beneath the thick overlapping of electric guitars, the wordless coos of the chorus perform aerial stunts overhead. Lyrical depth is extremely important in making a good album, but as Brewis is well aware, a fine-tuned “ooo ooo ooo” can be just effective, if not more so at moments.

The aforementioned opening track, “Rockist”, which bookends Sea From Shore in four separate parts, displays Brewis’s ability to milk an idea for all that its worth. Don’t mistake that as a negative criticism though. While “Rockist Part 1” and “Rockist Part 4” act as mirror images of each other, in correlation with the lyrical theme, the tracks’ individual attitudes are subject to a differentiation in time. Where the first part feels like a frustrated statement of affection, the final chapter airs on the side of triumph and conclusion. On the latter and final rendition, Brewis wails with a rejuvenated spirit: “The right time to discover / everything, anything / I see your eyes / before the lights break.” I’ve been there my friend. Hopefully she catches you at the right moment as well.

Radio Show Playlist: 1/16/08

6a:
1. Stone Roses - I am the Resurrection - Stone Roses (Silvertone 1989)
2. Bob Mould - Again & Again - District Line (Anti- 2008)
3. Pixies - Where is my Mind? (live) - Live in Chicago 11-16-04
4. Dinosaur Jr. - Back to Your Heart - Beyond (Fat Possum 2007)
5. Black Mountain - Wucan - In the Future (Jagjaguwar 2008)
6. Sam Shalabi - Jessica Simpson - Eid (Alien8 2008)
7. Om Kalsoum/Umm Kulthum - Alf Leila Wa Leila - Alf Leila Wa Leila (Sono Cairo 1971)
8. Neung Phak - Sadchatri 06 - Post-Asiatic: Lost War Dream Music (Urck 2007)

7a:
1. Nicole Mitchell's Black Earth Ensemble - February - Black Unstoppable (Delmark 2007)
2. Steve Reid - Nova - Nova (Mustevic 1976)
3. Matana Roberts Quartet - Thrills - Chicago Project (Central Control 2007)
4. Big Black - Elements of Now - Elements of Now! (Uni 1968)
5. Pieces of Peace - Flunky for Your Love - Pieces of Peace (Quannum 2007, originally 1972)
6. Brute Force - The Deacon - Brute Force (Embryo 1970)
7. Ty - The Tale - Well Deep: 10 Years of Big Dada Recordings (Big Dada 2007, originally 2001)
8. Food for Animals - Bulk Gummies - Belly (Hoss 2008)
9. Subtle - F.K.O. - A New White (Lex 2004)
10. Yeasayer - Sunrise - All Hour Cymbals (We Are Free 2007)
11. Four Tet - Iron Man - Everything Comes & Goes (Temporary Residence 2005)

8a:
1. Karl Blau - If I Died on You - The Second Marriage Records Compilation (Marriage 2007)
2. Woods - Keep It On - How to Survive In / In the Woods (Shrimper 2007)
3. The Mountain Goats - The Monkey Song - Protein Sources of the Future... Now! (3 Beads of Sweat 2002)
4. Emperor X - The Citizens of Wichita - Central Hug/Friendarmy/Fractal Dunes (Discos Mariscos 2004)
5. Fred Thomas - Flood - Flood (Magic Marker 2007)
6. Van Morrison - Streets of Arklow - Veedon Fleece (Warner Bros 1974)
7. Chris Connelly - The Son of Empty Sam - The Episodes (Durto Jnana 2007)
8. Hello, Blue Roses - Shadow Falls - The Portrait is Finished and I Have Failed to Capture Your Beauty... (Locust 2008)
9. White Blue Yellow & Clouds - Seeing Stars - Introducing White Blue Yellow & Clouds (I and Ear 2007)
10. Rafter - Love Time Now Please - Sex Death Cassette (Asthmatic Kitty 2008)
11. Spiller Whale - Raptures and Drynesses - Fresh Tables EP (Uncle Grandpa 2007)

Ghislain Poirier - "No Ground Under"

Ghislain Poirier - City Walking (feat. Abdominal) (Ninja Tune 2007)

Ghislain Poirier - No Ground Under / Ninja Tune

Ghislain Poirier, or The Man Who Snuck One in Under Our Collective Noses in '07. Here's a guy who has been turning what people thought they knew about Montreal inside-out for years. He's been consistently flying under the radar despite a host of people championing him in all the right places. 2005's last full-length, the endlessly fascinating Breakupdown, was a sort of meshing of all of Poirier's urban explorations that pre-dates the now-famous Big Bang Paris sound by a year. You could look at it that he knew all the right people and snatched accordingly, but the more likely answer is that he simply knew what he was doing.

If you missed it out in early November last year, the news is that Poirier still knows exactly what's going on in the world around him. A few worldly tours here, a few singles and an EP there to keep himself in the mix, a little trimming of the beard (but only a little), and, er, voilà: Here comes No Ground Under, another twist in the game Poirier has been playing with his own musical education.

In the past, Ghislain has gotten credit both for making some of the most buoyant hip-hop beats in the underground and for providing a transatlantic exception to Montreal's indie-rock rule. I read somewhere - maybe it was the New Yorker article on French provocateur Dieudonné - that there are more and more native French moving to the City of Saints from the City of Lights. Poirier is a native of Canada, but it seemed for awhile that he had been delivering material more suited to Paris Paris than La Sala Rossa.

As this record shows pretty early in the running, Poirier's been dipping his hands into the Caribbean cookie jar and hanging out in places like Le Balattou for inspiration. We've moved beyond IDM-inflected grime rhythms (even though one of the best tracks here, "City Walking," is of this ilk) and into a brave new world of post-modern riddimysticism. Don't laugh. It's better than you think.

"Blazin'," the first proper song on the record, is a take on his trademark sound, thumping bass drums killing your speakers while MC Face T takes to the mic and raving sirens take the party to the streets. As Gordon B. Isnor noted, M.I.A. might have the bigger stage presence, but Poirier has far superior music to back it up. "Blazin'" just happens to be the first example. These alien anthems sound so strange snuggled up next to somebody like Mr. Lee G (unless you'd already heard the vinyl 12 of "Dem Nah Like Me"), but that doesn't make it any less appealing. It's not a cheesy kind of homage, which is the nice thing about it; there are no Soulja Boy steel drums or breezy island sound effects. Mercifully, merci.

Instead, as on the very dark closer "Mangen L'boulé," Poirier runs through the spoken-word chorus and drops Area 51 right over Kingston. The especially low bass contrasts sharply with the flute, Nik Myo's singing, and this wild juxtaposition is another highlight. The idiosyncratic Montreal rap group Omnikrom provide yet another on "Jusqu'en Haut." I haven't bothered with Poirier's solo stuff, but the reason is that no guest stars are needed for this music. It works alone. We just have the bonus of hearing Zulu or Abdominal or whoever happens to pop up on the next song. Each is a comfortably surprising combination of the general aesthetic Ghislain has carried over the years and the newfoundlands of the Tropic of Cancer south. Except for "Exils," which hops a quick plane to India for some disorienting Mumbai beat-konducting before running back to the less crowded beaches of St. Lucia.

The gist, lain, is that No Ground Under is arguably Poirier's finest moment because each song serves the dual function of working for both the 14-song assembly and as a solo venture. Poirier scopes out and executes territory that's gotten awfully crowded since we last saw an album from him. That he does not become lost in the crowd is as much a testament to his talent as any signing to Ninja Tune or Clipse remix could ever be. It's good to hear him again, except... Where have we been?

Sam Shalabi - "Eid"

Sam Shalabi - "Jessica Simpson" (Alien8 2008)

Sam Shalabi – Eid / Alien8

As the solo oud performance of “Hawaga” opens Eid – guitarist Sam Shalabi’s 3rd album as the main composer – the mood locks into your spine. It begins with tradition, Northern African folk music played as both a response and an escape from the sweltering heat and the mostly desolate landscape. The oud’s sound is one of loneliness and exhaustion; the body of the stringed instrument (a precursor to the western lute) creates a much more somber tone than that of the acoustic guitar. It doesn’t as much chime as sigh, and like most characteristics of Northern Africa and the Middle East, the larger resonating bowl creates much more complex tones than its western counterparts. Shalabi’s music, including that of his band The Shalabi Effect, has always been grounded in the ornate and solemn musical vibe of Northern African and Middle Eastern music. The tether is loose though, and it is exhaustively lifted into the hazy atmospheres of psychedelia, noise, avant-garde, post-rock and metal. Eid is no different, though perhaps a bit more restrained and concentrated. It is the music of being exposed to a number of cultures and the psychological effect of trying to coalesce the influences into one personal sound.

The ghostly vibe is not lost as the second track, curiously titled “Jessica Simpson”, takes over, but the notion that this is certainly not a Northern African folk record becomes concrete. Mixing an almost surf rock groove with Arabic(?) chants (provided by the haunting voice of Radwon Moumneh) and a simple, throbbing bass line akin to the furthest regions of late 60s psychedelia, Shalabi then unleashes a scathing guitar solo that crashes against your eardrums with waves of snarling cacophony. If it weren’t for the disturbing analog-tape scratching that lines the solo, you’d think you were listening to a Middle Eastern version of the Flower Travellin’ Band. And along those lines, comparisons to the recent Boris collaborations or contemporary Japanese psych bands like Ghost cannot be ignored either. In seven minutes, you take an aural trip through a barrage of cultures, eras and sentiments. I’m already content and there are still eight tracks left to go.

Shalabi conceived Eid while living in Cairo, Egypt in 2006. His original goal was to craft a “modern Arabic pop” record, but after being exposed to the fascinating and unbelievably large array of music from the region, the project, like all Shalabi-associated ventures, began to expand in a variety of directions. Bringing the blueprints of the album back to his eclectic home base of Montreal in early 2007, he was able to enlist a number of similar-minded artists to flesh out his exotic compositions. The result is a mult-textured, multi-cultured, multi-layered album of modern psychedelia. Obviously, we live in an increasingly inter-cultured society, and if a piece of music does not include influences from a multitude of cultures, I find it hard to classify it as “modern”. So though it may not sound so on the surface, perhaps Shalabi did fulfill his original goal.

Shalabi’s greatest tactic is without a doubt his ability to layer and build vertically without losing the song completely to unlistenable cacophony. But he also shows a great penchant for being able to counteract styles from song to song without completely disorienting the listener. While the title track is a sweltering and anxious residence in an Egyptian marketplace, where the ambient sounds coalesce into a nerve-racking exhibit of foreign displacement, the following cut, “Eddie”, relies on a simple, Ethiopian-derived saxophone riff and two-note piano patter. Granted the song does open up into moments of manic free improvisation and tempered guitar feedback, there still is a tangible hook to grasp.

Two of the most startling, and for that matter accessible, tracks are “Billy the Kid” and "Billy the Kid (Part 2)”; the former garnished with the aching, deep blues vocals of Constellation recording artist Elizabeth Anka Vajagic, and the latter laced with the more feminine and heavy hearted singing of Katie Moore. Both easily twist your emotions into braids of regret, despair and awe, but sidestep sentimentality by letting the song evolve into psychedlic rants of tape loops and noise byproduct. It's moody music because it's a reflection of tumultuous times and places.

Eid is a stunning record. Sam Shalabi continues his development into an increasingly matured and unpredictable songwriter displaying a talent to observe his surroundings, absorb the cultural nuances and produce a music that pushes such ascertainments into realms all their own. And in the same breath, Montreal’s Alien8 Recordings remains one of the most intriguing labels on the planet. This is a must for all experimental rock fans and those with ears begging for an adventure.

Devotion #19.5