Singleversity #56

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



“In the beginning there was nothing,
but it was kind of fun to watch nothing grow.
You came walking
into my life
carrying your own dreams.
You could have been,
yeah, you could have been good,
then why were you so goddamn mean?
But til you I never had any fun.
But I’m sure glad I never,
ain’t you glad I never,
be glad I never owned a gun.”
-Lee Hazlewood, “I’m Glad I Never…:”

I’ve gotten in the habit of listening to the Jesus Lizard in the 6am hour. Just, you know, because nothing goes better with the sunrise than a little atonal upchuck and chafed ass-shaking. Of course, that was only until I stumbled across Lee Hazlewood’s Requiem for an Almost Lady (released exclusively in Sweden) from 1971. Now instead of dewdrops and pseudo-industrial noise, it’s bird tweets and swinging country-pop grooves. Don’t mistake that for a loss of volatility though – see above transcription from the opening track. "I'll Live Yesterdays" is my personal favorite. “Seems we’re always doing something to hurt each other, but you know you never really hurt me until the fourth verse of this song.” Oh yeah? “Knives that have cut you when others have touched you have taken our children away. If there is no tomorrow for us, then I’ll live yesterdays.”

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I recently got mixed up in this Indian kick for Netflix. We hit a groove for a few weeks where it just seemed like it was one after another - "The Namesake," "The Darjeeling Unlimited," and then most recently "Monsoon Wedding." Other than a comical subplot involving the wedding planner and the servant girl (who, it turns out, is the best looking actress in the movie), the latter isn't worth enduring unless you just really love Indian bickering. But hey, there's even a pot of gold at the end of this dusty rainbow: Stay tuned for the credits, because the best part of the movie plays right over them. Sukhwinder Singh is one of India's more recognizable Bollywood singers and is currently working on his own private studio in Mumbai. From a less complicated time when bleached out jean jackets were, um, all the rage (Revisionist history alert!), 2001's "Aaj Mera Jee Karda" has some great percussion and an instantly memorable melody. Put it this way: I enjoyed the credits more than the movie.

Singleversity #55

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



According to the infallible wisdom of Wikipedia, Japan's preeminent proto-heavy metal, psych-rock collective – the Flower Travellin’ Band – has reunited as of January of 2008. And on top of that, they have a new album “in production” and are playing the Fuji Rock Festival ’08 (and you were excited about seeing a reunited Rage Against the Machine at Lollapalooza, tsk). If you are not already familiar with the influential hard rockers, let me introduce you to them via their most notorious collection of acid tripping, “beach blanket bong-out muscularity.” 1971’s Satori – the Flower’s first proper album of exclusively original material – is often their most revered record and sends worldly musicologist Julian Cope into literary fits: “Flower Travellin’ Band is furious Sabbath atonal doom played with a Zep fitness and a berserk Japanese thoroughness.” There is not a poor moment during the 40-minute set with "Satori, Pt. 1" unanimously inspiring the slow motion stoner rock head bang right from the initial Ozzian howl. It’s not only their transition from clever cover act to path burning legends, but they also established “a sense of musical space which made them into the Can of heavy rock.” If you aren’t already hip, which there is not really an excuse to not be at this point, do so today.

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The same walk that had me simmering over Michael's abrupt dismissal of Santogold also eventually led us to a tangent on 90s genres coming back (Hercules and Love Affair as Culture Beat, anyone?) and how average The Night Marchers are and whatever happened to art-damaged things and how about some fucking -core? How about bringing that back? At least the hardcore scene is still alive and well, even if Louisville one-off Pusher aren't. Featuring members of Breather Resist and Coliseum, their only full-length features a dozen songs clocking in at a mighty, yes, 12 minutes. True story: Songs like "Nail Spitter" and "Scapehole" have been known to restore faith in people who otherwise might still be having Haddaway nightmares.

Singleversity #54

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



If you are curious at all to find some reasonably priced insights into Detroit’s great deep jazz label Tribe Records, look no further than Soul Jazz’s sister-label Universal Sound. Along with an anthology of the Phil Ranelin and Wendell Harrison-helmed independent label highlighting some of the most intriguing jazzy space-funk cuts from the socio-political and aesthetic collective in the mid-70s, they also reissued Marcus Belgrave’s tasty Gemini II record from 1974. The ambidextrous trumpeter, mentored by Clifford Brown, honed his chops with the Ray Charles touring band in the 1950s before providing his exuberant touch over the last 40 years to everyone from Motown to Mingus, Max Roach to Sun Ra, and Was (Not Was) to Carl Craig. "Glue Fingers (Part II)" finds the Belgrave-led Detroit collective on a textural groove of progressive jazz that swings as much as it struts. By the mid-70s, a lot of the similar-minded cats had succumbed to the fusion overlord, but the true jazz-funk hybrid was being pumped out by Belgrave and company deep in the Motor City underground.

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There's been a lot of poetic waxing over Africa's rapid and unwieldy musical modernization in the 70s. With disco and funk becoming more and more influential as the decade wore on, Nigeria's capital Lagos acted as one of the entry points and guiding lights for Western pop. Brighton-based Soundway has been collecting the popular sounds of Nigeria's discothèques and their latest installment is Nigeria Disco Funk Special: The Sound of the Underground Lagos Dancefloor 1974-79. Culled from this album is what's featured here, Voices of Darkness performing their funky freshness for "Moto Ginya." Though information is scarce (and the booklet's biographical depth is limited), we know that the group were expatriates from Cameroon's Ewondo before they hit it big nationally with "Moto Ginya." It was back into obscurity after that, where they remained until now.

Singleversity #53

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



I am exhausted. Eleven hours at a record fair has left me too tired to write anything thoughtful. I am not complaining though, because record fairs lead to all sorts of random discoveries. For instance, you could discover the greatest 45 ever recorded about your namesake without even knowing it existed. The C.O.D.'s "Michael" may have been recorded some 18 years before I was conceived, but being the bright cats they were, the Chicago soul quartet pretty much nailed me perfectly. It's called foreshadowing people.

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While Michael was busy spinning vinyl behind a fence in a prison gym from NBA Streets, I was on the court rifling through some records of my own. I left empty-handed (tight budget constraints) but my girlfriend nabbed a couple of Brazilian albums. As she remarked on the way home, "Brazilians know how to make party music." Judging by Persona's rare 1975 LP Som, they also know how to make discomfiting psych-rock. Though "Fogo" here is a lively number, tracks like the creepy "Lago" and the sparse, airy "Vento" make this one of the more unorthodox albums in the long, colorful history of Brazilian music. Sérgio Santos Mendes it certainly ain't.

Singleversity #52

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



Drunken dialogue is a thing of both sheer embarrassment and protean beauty. It ebbs and flows between grandiose pontification and petty sarcasm, creating a rather malleable cadence between conversationalists that has a certain charm to it. Within a group of witty personalities, the banter can become a poignant, unpredictable free-flow of individual ideas and mental competitiveness. I hear this same kind of fluid idealism in the Joe Chambers piece "Idle While" from the Bobby Hutcherson-led Dialogue (Blue Note 1965). Each player on the session – Chambers, Hutcherson, Freddie Hubbard, Sam Rivers, Andrew Hill, and Richard Davis – takes a turn adding his two cents after the wobbly opening chorus, which behind Hubbard’s muted trumpet and Rivers’ wispy flute, sounds a lot like what was playing in my head during my drunken stumble from the bar last night. Each of the highly regarded post-bop players give calm, contemplative solos that aren’t as much straight technical workouts as freer, more conversational lines. I’d be interested to know under what circumstances this session took place, because the music is just so relaxed, dim-lit, idiomatic and amiable that it’s intoxicating.

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So I did it. I finally went and became one of the white earbuds set and got myself an iPod. This 4-gig bad boy seemed like a good idea when I heard the deal, so I threw down the necessary guineas and florins for it and came up with something to keep me awake at work in the down time between emails to CEOs (or, more usually, their secretaries). I loaded a bunch of stuff onto it earlier this week and would've posted the first song I ever played, but Michael already did that with Alice Coltrane's "Journey in Satchidananda" two years ago, so tough luck for you.

After a few days, I realized I still wasn't confident in public even though it was loaded with [what I think are] great tunes. My only problem with this thing is the color. It's pink. Not even Boris pink or ironic scene-circa-'02 pink or fuschia or magenta; this motherfucker begs for a Bedazzling by a bunch of overenthused 13-year-old girls at a Friday night sleepover. Not that color matters, but pink really isn't one of my favorite colors. Never has been. Just don't like it. Pink and maybe brown. I don't like brown, either. Anyway, I found a typically cheap solution yesterday to the lack of masculinity in my portable music player: I deleted everything that was on it and replaced it with a comprehensive discography of The Jesus Lizard.



The Jesus Lizard are, as best I can tell, the most masculine band in the history of music. But even their seven LPs and numerous addenda aren't enough for a nine-hour workday. For variety's sake, I added Young Widows, who have by now frightened away any Breather Resist hangers-on. They drink beer, they wear flannel, they're from Louisville, their name is fucking Young Widows. Not enough? Maybe "The Charmers" live from 2006's Jade Tree debut Settle Down City will sell you. This particular jingle comes from a hometown performance at Headliners the night Duane Denison laughed to meet his once-a-year quota while dozens of innocent civilians cried in fear. Actually, that's every night. The Jesus Lizard as the Chuck Norris Wolf of music, can I get an amen?

Singleversity #51

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



J Dilla + Minnie Ripperton = soul-hop perfection. Tacked on to the long-delayed release of Slum Village’s debut/demo album Fan-Tas-Tic Vol. 1 (recorded 96-97, released 2005), "Look of Love (Remix)" comprises all of the best elements of the Detroit rap trio: Dilla’s sweet-grooved boom-bap, the off-the-cuff ruminations of Baatin and T3, the humbled basement-studio production quality and of course, the surprisingly terse and biting lyrical content despite a vibe that’s more Tribe than Snoop. Look no further for the seeds of the contemporary Detroit rap sound, not to mention the beginning of Dilla’s heralded career.

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I have the apartment to myself this weekend, but instead of partying it up with Hercules and Love Affair (which apparently tops Audiversity's hypothetical "Loved and Hated" list that Cokemachineglow recently ditched) or self-destructively drinking myself into a corner, I've been quietly relaxing for the most part to Florida-born, Philly-bred, Goddard College acting alum Archie Shepp and his 1977 release On Green Dolphin Street. The tenor sax maestro got his career going with Cecil Taylor in the early 60s and through "New Thing" collaborations with both Taylor and John Coltrane, Shepp made a name for himself that allowed him to explore more possibilities in the 1970s with everyone from Max Roach to his own Attica Blues Big Band. For a long time, the fastest way to Shepp was through the University of Massachusetts-Amherst's courses in "Revolutionary Concepts in African-American Music" and "Black Musician in the Theater," but he's retired since. With one of the lowest album ratings in Shepp's AllMusic guide, On Green Dolphin Street doesn't match his more forward-thinking release from '77 in Goin' Home. Doesn't matter to me. Sometimes it's nice to hear the title-track and understand why Shepp is so great without all the frilly ambition and prefix-addled self-importance of his groundbreaking works.

Singleversity #50

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



I typically read books on jazz to try and comprehend the revolutionary cats of the 60s avant-garde era, but as with trying to understand anything, you have to know the roots before you can get the stems. Not too long ago, I worked my way through Gary Giddins’ excellent Visions of Jazz: The First Century, and despite being quite taken by the chapters on the Modern Jazz Quartet, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Charles Mingus and Muhal Richard Abrams, I was most fascinated by Artie Shaw; a far cry from the free jazz experimenters. The clarinetist could have achieved the legendary status of Benny Goodman, but walked away from his musical career a total of five times until finally leaving the industry in 1954 for good (he didn’t pass away until 2004). The bridge between swing and bop, Shaw was appalled by the idea that his music was transforming him from, in Giddins’ words, “an introspective, adventurous, irreverent musician into a celebrity on autopilot – little better, in his unforgiving view, than a trained seal.” His goal was to become the best clarinetist he believed possible, and when he achieved that he walked away for good. His last recording, "Yesterdays" (found on Artie Shaw: The Last Recordings, Rare & Unreleased), is a haunting ballad of tonal perfection with delicate melodic passages provided by pianist Hank Jones and guitarist Joe Puma. A sobering late night (and career) come down if there ever was one.

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I know this was Singleversity #50, and it was supposed to be something special, and I was going to have something for you, but I think Snöleoparden did it to me. I've lost it.



(Patrick has gone insane, but he will return next week. Probably. -Ed.)

Singleversity #49

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



Revisiting one of the earlier releases from a label we gushed about repeatedly last year – the UK’s Type Records – TYEP002, the six-song EP Six Preludes from compositional wunderkind Ryan Teague, has creeped its way back into my heavy rotation. Balancing equal parts chamber music, avant-electronica, sample-based composing and modern classical, Teague melts the opposing styles of Arvo Pärt into Delarosa & Asora or Steve Reich into Biosphere. Minimal electronic manipulations and chirping melodic samples twinkle in a clear autumnal night sky of warm string vibrato and clarinet swells. On "Prelude I", he even weaves in ghostly choral chants evoking a sense of religious influence into the oscillating tone of the music. Enchanting and melancholy, Six Preludes – like all Type releases – is a repeatedly interesting study as well as a soothing late night listen if your mind isn’t in the mood for moving.
ps. Label-head Xela playing Chicago tomorrow (3/17) at Danny's

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While everybody was out getting loaded on the weekend before St. Patrick's Day, I was looking at how much greener Mayor Daly could possibly make the Chicago River and spending some time with the Smalltown Supersound crew. Not that I've given up my Irish roots, but I'll save the revels (and these sayings) for when they're really needed: the weekday. In the meantime, here's a little ditty from 1978 featuring Motown Sounds, a presumably Detroit-based group (They were on Motown, after all) helmed by one Michael Lovesmith who helped produce this LP and then disappeared into the obscurity of a solo career. Resurrected by Strut in the name of Larry Levan back in 2000 and again on a 45 by the sans-Smalltown Supersound label in 2006, "Bad Mouthin'" is a high-caliber disco classic provided by a group that had one amazing album cover and no follow-up or background information. Níl aon suáilce gan a duáilce féin, am I right?

Singleversity #48

Audiversity’s weekly column, even more modified, on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



When digging around Blue Note’s catalogue, it’s hard to go wrong in 1964. The phenomenal session players spending evening after evening in Rudy Van Gelder’s Englewood Cliffs studio all seem to be coming into their own simultaneously as post-bop bent into the avant-garde and free jazz. So you occasionally get these unreal line-ups like that of Andrew Hill’s Andrew!!! which features Bobby Hutcherson on vibes, Richard Davis on bass, Joe Chambers on drums and Sun Ra’s saxophonist John Gilmore on tenor. Sometimes overlooked by the pianist’s other two releases in 1964, Point of Departure and Judgement!, Andrew!!! – despite it’s Sam Cooke-like cover art – is as stimulating and curious as any Hill record in the 60s. I especially enjoy "Le Serpent Qui Danse" because it bridges the outgoing and incoming fads in jazz at the time. Hill’s post-bop leaning cascades of piano harmony and Chambers’ steady rhythm eventually dissolve into freer modes as Gilmore’s fractured tenor lines counterbalance the warm pings of Hutcherson’s vibes. It’s a surprisingly prolific line-up with unsurprisingly excellent results.

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If you're like me and you've had the pressing need for a Roaring Twenties period-soundtrack set to your daily happenings to make life more bearable, this one's for you. Check out the bluesy southern stomps of piano juggernaut Jimmy Blythe: Born in Lexington, Kentucky around 1901, young Jimmy took off to Chicago for a new life on the performing front in the booming business of the bootlegged Windy City. After honing his craft under Clarence M. Jones, the 1920s were good to him and he cut a number of piano rolls with noted greats such as Louis Armstrong, Johnny Dodds and Ma Rainey (as well as providing the first example of Boogie-Woogie, "Chicago Stomp"). Blythe's Southside stylings were cut abruptly short when he died of meningitis in 1931, but thankfully, his playing has survived the years. Late last year, some of his recordings were revamped through the magic of digital processing courtesy Delmark's compilation Messin' Around Blues. From that album, "Mama's Got 'Em" makes me feel the most like I'm a character in "The Sting"... Nevermind that said movie was actually set in Chicago some five years after Blythe had passed away.

Singleversity #47

Audiversity’s weekly column, even more modified, on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



A couple months ago I stumbled upon a compilation called Sculpting from Drake, Vol. 1, and my level of interest since has risen from a glancing curiosity to verging on an obsession. Released on the Michigan imprint Elsie and Jack Records back in 2001, it features mostly Midwest American artists individually reinterpreting the graceful tunes of arguably folk-pop’s greatest icon, Nick Drake. Thanks to the diversity of artists involved, the album contains a wide range of reimaginings. Where artists like Archer Prewitt or Flashpapr are able to pay tribute by providing similarly stark and solemn recreations of Drake’s lulling sound, more experimental cats like Ben Vida or Drekka stretch and mold the compositions with their personal artistic fingerprint until they are nearly unidentifiable from the original. The more I spin the record, the more one particular track seems to separate itself from the mix because it combines both approaches. The team of the now defunct UK psych/shoegaze outfit Electroscope and someone by the name of Zurich patiently weave somber electric guitar noodles and wavering feedback for the first half of "Things Behind the Sun" before a welcoming female voice does impressive justice to Drake’s lyrics and deceptively simple vocal melodies. A Drake tune alone is incredibly hypnotizing, but by melting his impeccable songwriting into a gentle whirlpool of psych guitar, organ swells and tape loops, you’ll be lucky to drag yourself out of the sonic vortex. (p.s. Dear Elsie and Jack, please put out a second volume, sincerely Michael)

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Who's the fetching fellow behind the chessboard of this photo and the mixing board of the b-side to M83's owl-inflected latest single, "Couleurs"? Answer: Flying Finn Jori Hulkkonen, an electronic artist and relentless remixer slipping in treatments for Goldfrapp, Cabaret Voltaire and Chromeo to name but a few. Hulkkonen got no less a dancefloor icon than Tiga to write the bio on his webpage, and his long career as both artist and resident DJ stretches back to early electro experiments in 1988-89. He's come a long way from deep house remixes in the early 90s, and the extended journey continues two decades on with both a radiant Italo-garage hybrid for "Couleurs" and a new single on F Communications with John Foxx called "Never Been Here Before." Check out his MySpace for even more goodness from the man bred on Swedish-pop and Finnish folk in the remote "city of snow and sea," Kemi.

Singleversity #46

Audiversity’s weekly column, even more modified, on random music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



I am not much of a print art connoisseur, but when I happen across an artist I like, my attention is captured for good. That is just what happened about a year ago while digging for a foothold to get my review of Low’s Drums and Guns rolling. A piece titled “March” by Bridget Riversmith graced the front cover, and as I stared at it for a good hour trying to find just the right description, I found myself more hypnotized by the gouache and graphite sketch than the music – though Low’s gently pulsing vibrations was certainly catalytic to the situation. Well not only does the Duluth, MN artist now have an expanded website, but she has a new film project titled Birds At Night (Might Fall). And if you are looking for equally hypnotizing music to soundtrack your browsing of Riversmith’s many surreal, storybook-inspired concoctions, might I suggest minimalist composer Terry Riley’s "Purple" from his 1968 concert: Poppy Nogood and the Phantom Band All Night Flight. Both artists share a penchant for gently stumbling upon warm-hued, melodious impressions in mistake-friendly chaos: Riley with his erasable layers of loops and Riversmith with her pliable water-based media.

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This week has turned out to be all about Africa for me. It started when I finally reviewed Toumani Diabaté's latest record, The Mande Variations, after sitting on it for several days. This led me to visit Awesome Tapes From Africa for the first time in a few weeks, and I did my catching-up. I also finished Dave Eggers' riveting portrayal of Sudanese refugee Valentino Achak Deng, 2006's What is the What. The climax was when I received "The Last King of Scotland" in the mail from Netflix. My interest in crazed African dictators was renewed with this flawed-yet-entertaining film, but the soundtrack is also worth more investigation. Ofo & The Black Company - a Nigerian group led by Larry Ifedioranma with little other information to offer - has often been cited as the highlight with "Allah Wakbarr" (incorrectly titled "Love is You" on the album), but the b-side of that 1972 Decca 7" wasn't bad either: Here lies "Beautiful Daddy," a jam Idi Amin would doubtlessly have approved of.

Apparently the people up at The Fader saw this coming: on Thursday the "Africa issue" arrived, which is well worth the read even if you're averse to the whole "print media" thing. To bring it full circle, Brian Shimkovitz does his own Vinyl Archaeology toward the back of the rag. You may know him as thursdayborn from his blog, Awesome Tapes From Africa. Word.

Singleversity #45

Audiversity’s weekly column, even more modified, on random music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



Though most of the original magic is gone, it’s hard not to be pleased with Stax Records reactivation in late 2006. Continuing with their string of newly compiled reminders of how the Memphis imprint just plain dominated southern soul music in the 60s and 70s comes Stax Does the Beatles. Maybe a bit of a cash-in and easy attention-grabber, but c’mon, it is hard to hate on Isaac Hayes stringing out “Something” – Harrison’s three-minute Abbey Road love ballad – into a twelve-minute orchestra-soul epic or a few previously unreleased instro-funk covers from Booker T. & the MGs. The jewel of the collection though comes from the least known name, one Reggie Milner. The Detroit native only released two singles with the Volt emblem printed proudly, the b-side to his first being "And I Lover Her". With it’s first ever appearance in the digital medium, Milner’s humbled falsetto and treble-heavy lo-fi production provides a fresh listen to a label heavily picked-over in the last twenty years.

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Freed from the shackles of word limits, this week seems like a good time to open up about Detroit garage-rock kings of incompetence, The Keggs. Not much is known about these monsters of the mid-60s, but according to Crypt Records head Tim Warren, the band had to change their name after every show and the guitarist was killed in a motorcycle accident. Also, Orbit Records (Not the ones from Hamburg) only pressed 75 copies of this 7" from 1967. "To Find Out" is on the a-side, an amazing bit of bar-brawl soundtracking, while "Girl" plays the toned-down b-side. Can you imagine what this group must've been like live? In the catalog of cool, The Keggs stand at the top.

Singleversity #44

Audiversity’s weekly column, slightly modified, on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 101

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Not really a collection for diehard diggers of the genre, but one of the latest Heartbeat Records compilations, When Rhythm Was King, culls some of the best pairings between Studio One’s impeccable rhythm section and Jamaica’s top vocalists. Besides choice cuts from Alton Ellis, Johnny Osbourne, Dennis Brown and Dillinger among others, it also includes maybe my favorite Sugar Minott number, "Come on Home". With a sparse riddim clicking and clucking, Minott pines for his lost lover with that unparalleled soft soul croon. Track in a few swooning horns and an organ flutter, and you have yet another Studio One classic.

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Though Michael was less enthusiastic about Hell Hath No Fury, Clipse’s sophomore album remains on my heavy hip-hop rotation even now (Is it sad to want more of the intro?). The Re-Up Gang released two exemplary mixtapes during that downtime to keep sharp. After signing with Columbia last October, the Clipse have made the wait short for their next appearance: This week, We Got it 4 Cheap: Vol. 3 was released. Ab-Liva and Sandman also sound as up to snuff (No pun intended) as the Thorntons here on "Good Morning." Too bad the rest of the title is too long to remember.

Singleversity #43

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

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With one of the most interesting fusions of styles in modern music, Thomas Mapfumo’s chimurenga music intertwines funk, soul and 60’s pop-rock into Zimbabwe’s native Shona music. While the groove of a track like "Matiregerera Mambo" [please refer to this site if you are still interested] (which I have a sneaking suspicion is actually titled “Hokoyo” and my tracklisting is just off) may reflect a Motown aesthetic in the music, the lyrics are unabashedly political and rebellion rousing. Pulled from Mapfumo’s debut album with the Acid Band, the 1978 LP Hokoyo! (Shona for “beware” or “watch out”), the message nearly condemned the “Lion of Zimbabwe” to jail by the then suppressing white minority government.

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Though it’s been over two years and I’ve done a lot of growing since, Million Dead will always occupy a very special place for me; as such, I keep up with even the most trifling matters of its former members. Turns out that while they’ve all been busy pursuing separate projects, three unreleased instrumental demos and a flat-sounding Total Rock session surfaced this past week from their former band on the fansite Milliondead.org. This "Pop-punkyone" is, like the others, of subpar sound and mostly unremarkable bar a spacey middle section that hints at a new sonic angle they unfortunately never survived to see realized.

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

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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”.

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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.

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

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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.

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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.

Singleversity #40

Audiversity’s weekly column, slightly modified, on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 88, naturally.

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It’s rare that a single song will instantaneously blow my mind. Last Wednesday however, while sitting sleepily in my office, Alton Ellis’s cover of "What Does It Take (To Win Your Love)" from his 1970 classic, Sunday Coming, sexily skanked out of my crappy boom-box. My word! That perfect mid-tempo riddim… the subdued electric piano… Ellis’s soul-baring vocals… that fucking guitar sound! I mean… it’s just so… it’s an inexplicable emotion. Never has lyrical angst been some completely epitomized by the accompanying music. He’s won my love. (poof!)

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We're a dozen days into 2008, but my past month has been an exercise in relaxing and enjoying what was in '07. It was a good year. Though it came out in the second week of December, Beanie Sigel's The Solution was a part of that, too. The South Philly native was hungry on this album and it is without a doubt one of the year's best... But Clayton Purdom puts all of this much better than I do. What I offer instead: "'Bout That (Let Me Know)."

Singleversity #39

Audiversity’s weekly column, slightly modified, on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 108.

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Celebrating 10 years of innovative releases, Big Dada has compiled two discs of quintessential tracks and tougher to find cuts called Well Deep. Founded by hip-hop journalist Will Ashon and supported as Ninja Tune’s rap imprint, the British label came to define the underground UK rap scene in the late 90s and early 00s with a slew of innovative international artists like Ty, cLOUDDEAD, King Geedorah, Lotek HiFi, Mike Ladd, TTC, Diplo and Wiley among others. And of course, where would British hip-hop be without Rodney Smith, aka Roots Manuva? The compilation rightfully kicks off with the London emcee’s classic cut "Movements" from 1999’s Brand New Second Hand.

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Cologne composer and avant-garde visionary Karlheinz Stockhausen passed away at the age of 79 on December 5th. The man was probably best known for being among the earliest performers of electronic music (1953’s "Electronic Studies"). But ambitious compositions such as 1993’s "Helikopter-Streichquartett" will put him down as one of the last century’s real geniuses. This interview is from sometime after ‘93, but features video and music from his entire career. Stockhausen’s death still has no cause, but maybe that’s appropriate for the critics who suspected he’d reached a dead end. Dreamers never reach dead ends, and as he says here, "The performance is an experience of the dream."

Singleversity #38

Audiversity’s weekly column, slightly modified, on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 54.

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My latest obsession: "Fisherman". This is reggae… no, psychedelic reggae… or in other words, Lee Perry peaking creatively. Featuring Gregory Isaacs, the Heptones and the Meditations and inexcusably overlooked upon its release in 1977, the Congos' Heart of the Congos, produced by Perry, now stands as one of roots reggae’s quintessential records. Absolutely essential.

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As my output slows to a trickle, I justify it by saying that the time after Thanksgiving is good for enjoying everything you heard this year. When I remember the summer, Norwegian electro revivalist Skatebård’s "Disco Nonstop" (from the Love Attack EP) immediately comes to mind as a late-night party jam and/or later-night after-party comedown.

Singleversity #37

Audiversity’s weekly column, slightly modified, on random music in a predetermined number of words between 1 & 150. This week's randomly generated number: 69.

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Plucked from the very first entry of the Ethiopiques series (they are cruising somewhere around 23 these days), “Wètètié Maré” and its mellow-soul vibe sounds as if it slinked out of a late night recording session at Stax studios in the early 60s. Actually recorded by Muluqèn Mèllèssè a decade later, it is the type of exotic jam that reminds you that a “groove” is an international feeling.

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Lurking in the shadows of "Control" and a slew of needless Joy Division reissues arriving just in time for the holidays is an equally fascinating story of Factory Benelux apostles from the Low Countries. The Names are one of the best examples with a Martin Hannett connection that virtually no one knows; 1981 single "Calcutta" shows a Brussels-based group at the peak of their brief arc. Somebody reissue Swimming!