nostalgia as cultural usurpation/impotence, but oh well

eulogy of sorts;

nostalgia.

i don't particularly care for it. to loosely paraphrase whitman, there has never been any more stars, moon, sun or atoms; never more love, peace or war than now. to lapse insensibly into the paeans of how illustrious and brilliant X time was, how futile, empty and banal present conditions are - in any form or context - is dubious, self-defeating and does nothing to incense the procreant urge, the principles of creation. if anything, it engenders a kind of complacency and numbness, within which creativity is inured to the environments that would otherwise propel it forward. within music lately, the governing principle is the utilization of nostalgia for creative ends. rather than simple inspiration from past figures, there is an accelerant adoption of past forms, styles and configurations, all of which become unfavorably grafted onto the present. whenever i hear a new band described, it is done with terms ensconced and enslaved to prior ghosts; nobody "sounds" new, they sound like the feelies, or they sound like the butthole surfers, or they sound like dylan, or they sound like whatever band was underappreciated and discovered at a later time (big star, the velvets, the silver apples -- especially the silver apples lately). i'm speaking exclusively of independent music, which has been devouring itself lately with nostalgia, with the inconquerable, fruitless notion that everything in the past is worth emulating. the respective scenes that emerged in the 80s underground are impossibly romantic, almost to the point where they have become a lure and bait upon which entire new careers have been slung, though somewhat dispassionately. listen, i love the replacements, the feelies, big star, the silver apples, the united states of america (band), can and all the other krautrock visionaries, the tall dwarfs and all the other "kiwi" rock progenitors, and amon duul and all that; there's no merit in debating their relative worth, because their inventions and attitudes were invaluable. however, where is the break, where is the advancement, where is the singular cultural or subcultural voice of which we are unanimously deprived? influence is inseparable, its anxiety is choking - but to presume it must color and clothe every aspect of our emerging cultural life is maniacal, myopic and deadening. it is possible to bear the stain of influence but to create something supplemental, to transcend it or climb its scaffolds, aware of the past but triumphant of its inertia. oddly, i know so many people who have gone to school and obtained masters degrees by studying childhood obsessions, but applying a kind of cold, intellectual process to them so as to render them "academic" or analytical (i kid you not, there are people who have finished their graduate thesis on the "golden girls" for chrissakes).

whatever constitutes the "independent" music scene is built - however surprisingly - upon tradition. nothing that was created since its theoretical inception (somewhere in the late 70s/early 80s) existed with amnesia towards its past; it recognized it, took liberally from it, but was cognizant of its own time, frustrations, possibilities and stricture. maybe begin with punk in the late 70s, as a reaction -- patti smith, television's marquee moon album, the ramones, devo, pere ubu, the talking heads; destruction and creation. it extends with the no-wave scene of new york that so quickly, happily collapsed upon itself -- james chance and the contortions, DNA, teenage jesus and the jerks, glenn branca, mars, etc. startlingly different things begin raising themselvs from the ground in every conceivable part of the country and the world, whether it's sonic youth, the minutemen, r.e.m., the dead kennedys, the replacements, husker du, the rain parade, half japanese, butthole surfers, galaxie 500, the verlaines, feelies, the smiths, tall dwarfs, fugazi, etc -- there's far too much wonderful music from the era. nearly every band you can name of any worth took its inspiration from the velvet underground, as is exhaustively noted whenever the subject is broached, but how many of them sounded perilously close to being their inheritors or immediate descendants? scant few. after the velvets, something inconceivably beautiful happened within music: every decade defined itself with its own voice, so of course DNA sounds nothing like neu, or devo bears no resemblance to morrissey or the smiths. emulation in that regard, simply didn't exist. currently, the production of music seems more centered around who you want to "sound" like, as opposed to what you have to say, what you have to express. of course, the primary weight of the problem (the lack of vision) hovers around a form that has been dragged of whatever excitement it could possibly possess, and the form is pop music. no matter how disparate the bands that have been itemized, none of them strayed too far from having recognizable verses, choruses and structures. you could sing along with a buttole surfers song or a james chance song -- no matter how maladjusted you would appear in public doing so. rock/pop music is old, old, old -- it is, by now, a septegenerian, and within its age and context how can it possibly remain alive, intact and exciting? other forms of music have evolved to a certain extent to avoid the predation of patterns - what is refered to as "classical" music, began gradually incorporating new rhythms and forms with successive artists like satie, bartok, penderecki, ligeti, cage, partch, young, stravinsky, even moondog could be considered classical. jazz enflamed itself - though with much reluctance and harangues from its traditionalists - with cecil taylor, charlie mingus, albert ayler, ornette coleman, anthony braxton, roscoe mitchell, davis and coltrane. rock and pop music has failed to evolve much in this manner, so as to bear so little resemblance to its former selves, and perhaps the closest it came was with "trout mask replica" or pere ubu's early albums. there has been adventurousness, but it has been tepid and reserved in comparison. now, it's just an old whore that can't stand on its own two legs, constantly requiring the stability and balance of its ghosts.

there are the exceptions that are too preciously few, but they are hardly consolation. radiohead isn't really a rock band anymore, luckily. they are inevitably under the spell and influence of much of the krautrock music from the 70s, but in a way that is less than begging, so that they appear less like disciples or apprentices and more like an interesting band. perhaps it isn't too much of a stretch to suggest that their recent influence from scott walker's latter day work has immeasurably been of benefit. it also brings the name of scott walker to mind -- frankly, i've probably exhausted my verbal authority and capability to speak of him with any renewed energy, but if you haven't listened to scott walker's last three records (three decades apart), then take a listen to what the future of music should sound like. there is celerity, there is vision, there is apathy toward melody and familiar patterns, hardly anything summons the phrase "hey that sounds like..." no, there is none of that in the universe of walker's past three records, particularly his last, "the drift," which moves so unspeakably far from the history of popular/rock music as to beg for its own place, its own terminology - there is no genre or category that exists to cover a song like "jesse." it hardly surprises me to see walker and radiohead speak favorably of one another, it is essential. if more people actually knew who walker was, perhaps there could be germination. as of now, there is mere speculation. meanwhile, above ground, music as a whole has ceased to really find its own cultural voice. even within mainstream pop music, everything sounds the way it did in 1989. there is no shift in its stylistic voice, only sycophancy and anonymity. hip-hop, driven continually underground, wherever it exists in popular form, has reduced itself to a kind of materialistic game of three-card monty, void of soul, politic and passion. from the impression it endows, one would think the only concern within the black community is where to park their bentley. when i think about it, hip-hop is about the only popular music form that in no way resembles its prior incarnation, and that's only because grandmaster flash or public enemy would probably spend time decrying social injustice or the racial divide, as opposed to endless observations on the shape of a stripper's ass or the taste of a good champagne.

i have been thinking of nostalgia because it is pervasive, especially the past two weeks, both within "underground" (as if such a thing exists any more, musically) and mainstream circles. three things in particular have been floating about the air: the 20th anniversary of nirvana's "nevermind," the peremptory demise of r.e.m. as a functioning, recording band, and the reunion/imminent return album from guided by voices. it is almost unthinkable that all three should be so closely-aligned and occuring in proximity of one another, as nirvana was arguably the last great "big" rock band, guided by voices was something of the last great "indie" bands, and r.e.m. was the only band to be both consecutively, a great underground band and a great above ground band (incalculable are the bands that cite their career dignity as being a model to follow when venturing into the mainstream, radiohead and nirvana among them). is radiohead a "big" rock band...i don't know. they certainly are "big." a great diversity of people pledge devotion eternal to them, in so many different social circles and cultural bogs that it's nearly impossible to avoid calling them such a thing; but are they a "rock" band in that lumbering, "classic" sense. i mean, considering the fact i went the majority of my life hearing only "creep" on the radio (even when "ok computer" was released). that's not meant as a derisive statement, either, i respect the fact they have succeeded with such a magnitude of enthusiasm without any real support from traditional means. it is arguable, though, that they could have anything near the impact of something like "nevermind," despite how great "kid a" or "amnesiac" were -- yes, i happen to care for the latter especially. this isn't because their records are inferior or less visionary than "nevermind" either, because really, there wasn't really much "vision" on "nevermind," just perfectly pronounced anguish that is as american as bigotry, zealotry, senseless wars and fabulousness. i'm digressing horribly, and the more circuitous i become, the more amputated from my own logic, the less coherent any of this will be, in the event it is being read at all. but regardless...

"nevermind" is 20 years old, which necessarily means that i - and everyone else alive during its release - am 20 years older as well. whatever insights i have of that time, however, seem tertiary and vague, perhaps malformed, owing to the fact that i was only 6 years old when it was released. i was conscious of it, in that tolerable newborn way, of it being something that was happening, but not altogether different from my evolving perception of the environment. i was fortunate to have a certain precocity and memory from a young age, and am able to recall things with alarming clarity (sometimes for the worst). in the case of "nevermind," the perennial "smells like teen spirit" is not what i immediately think of, but the "come as you are" video. i remember sitting in front of the television after school, watching this frail, red-haired figure swing across a chandelier, swaths of water coursing over the screen, in absolute rapture. as a child music was nearly the only thing of which i was conscious, as i spent my solitary youth either wandering in front of my father's revolving musical involvements (he was a jazz, country and blues drummer), pretending to play a frayed, wooden desk like a piano to emulate jerry lee lewis (my favorite childhood film - in addition to nightmare on elm st, was the lewis biopic great balls of fire) or listening to my mother's madonna and jon secada tapes. i remember a particular fondness for babyface and tracy chapman as well. by the time "nevermind" and its phenomena was over, nirvana released "in utero," for which i was more than conscious, but religiously enthusiastic. along with ace of base's "the sign" (yes, yes yes) and green day's "dookie," "in utero" was one of the first cassette tapes i personally owned. so while i can't claim much cultural ownership of "nevermind," "in utero" feels - in retrospect - much more "mine," in the sense that i was "there" in a way i couldn't have been for "nevermind." i absorbed everything i could with cobain, taping songs from "nevermind" off the radio with a crude, barely audible cassette deck until i could wrangle my own copy, sitting cross-legged in front of the television for the mtv unplugged concert, bowled over and paralyzed by the leadbelly, bowie and meat puppet covers, reading every interview imaginable and purchasing a guitar to learn nirvana songs. when he killed himself in april of 94, i was between 8 and 9 years old, crestfallen, whittled to bone by tears, unable to grasp what exactly such a gesture meant (aside from the fact that there would be no more nirvana albums). when my friend david similarly killed himself (by way of his father's pistol in a damp, scarcely-lit basement) in the seventh grade, two months apart from both of my grandfather's dying, the only sense of cohesion and sanity i felt was graciously felicitated by the "unplugged" cassette tape that never left my tape deck. nostalgically, nirvana would mean something to me irrespective of its actual content and music. i find, however, that i returned to listening to them - after a 10 year absence or more - with renascent vigor, in a way that i will never listen to the unutterable garbage i listened to during the same formative time; green day, rancid, offspring, marilyn manson -- typical white-boy aggressive shit, really. i don't put on any of these groups or even think about them with any warmth, aside from the fact that the suicided dave gave me his cassette of manson's second album during 4th grade lunch. i listen to nirvana genuinely and not to reclaim whatever bullshit "halcyon day" fodder of the "good old days" or "oh my youth;" i listen because it is - to me - worth listening to, and what they conveyed still resonates somewhere within me.

guided by voices. as is clearly evident on this blog, i am a continuing proponent of the genius of robert pollard, however faded it may now be. growing up in ohio, it is easy to think of the lou reed song "small town," wherein he sings "when you're growing up in a small town, you know you'll grow down in a small town, when you're growing up in a small town you say 'no one famous ever came from here.'" in a place like ohio, particularly the more isolated, rural and bombed-out sections of its landscape, there is an inescapable feeling that you are doomed to an anonymous death, incapable of doing anything remarkable, beautiful, enlivening. the more intellectually curious i became, the more i discovered that people of inestimable worth actually originated from the murky, fog-strewn back roads and leveled townscapes and cities; of note, jim jarmusch, kenneth patchen, ghoulardi, pere ubu, devo, albert ayler, jimmy scott, kim deal of the pixies, the breeders, brainiac, the cramps, the pretenders, scott walker (!), hart crane, ambrose bierce, sherwood anderson and guided by voices. maybe regional pride of any kind is negligible or small-minded, but when you've lived in the burned-down empire of cleveland's shadow, the desolate, dreary streets of akron, or the agrarian ineptitude of bowling green and toledo, such things become a secondary lifeforce. like most people, "bee thousand" was the first guided by voices album i had encountered, and it became something with which i was obsessed. i had no idea the backstory of their music, but the more i learned the more fixated i became. robert pollard was a grade school teacher in dayton, ohio; in his spare time, he recorded unthinkably brilliant pop albums with his drinking buddies in various basements throughout the area on a 4-track machine, lending an unearthly, spectral quality to the recordings. when he was something like 38, after years of being the point of derision amongst his family members and neighbors, he was able to quit his job and record music full-time, producing so many goddamn brilliant pop songs that to enumerate - even half of them - would require an hour of my time. he recorded more brilliant pop songs than the beatles, and i am still unable to properly articulate my enthusiasm for him and his band. of course, by the time i fell into their orbit, in 2004, guided by voices had announced its retirement so pollard could embark on a solo career (which proved half shits/half hits). i was fortunate to see pollard in concert twice during his solo tours, once when playing with his side-band the boston spaceships, and once recently on the reunion tour with the "classic" era lineup of guided by voices. a few years ago, i was even able to meet pollard at a bookstore in cincinnati, which resulted in the largest neurotic flush of anxiety and convulsions i've ever experienced. i remember shaking his hand tremulously, soft-voiced and uttering "thank you so much." he hugged me and i think my skeleton deliquesced into in a swamp-like mass of flesh and eyelashes. the last time i was that combustible and excited, i was meeting tom servo from mystery science theater 3000 when i was 10.

reunion tours are in constant fashion now, and invariably, every conceivable band from the past will reintroduce itself to the public with celebratory handshakes, smiles and photo sessions; "here we are," they say, "it's time to cash in on your longing for a past of which you were never a part." gang of four, public image ltd, the butthole surfers, pixies, pavement, olivia tremor control, the new york dolls, the feelies...my god the list just lumbers on like a drunken Lear, spiraling out in every direction with visons of cash-outs and dancing dollars. i was skeptical when guided by voices announced a reunion tour, but of course i attended despite my reservations. luckily, they were more vital and alive than bands half their age (pollard is 52?), and there was genuine enthusiasm and passion abundant in every note enunciated. the reasoning behind their reformation is comparatively earnest -- the "classic" line up that recorded the most beloved of the early records, until pollard excised the attendant members and gathered an assembly of "professional" musicians for the duration of the group (1997-2004). virtually no one was able to see this specific line up play live, and judging from the recordings of shows they did actually play, they sound light years better now than in years before (another atypical instance with these reunion shows...notice how bloated and bloodless the pixies performances seem now). so, i took this as a good thing. however, recapturing the spirit of those recordings by making another album seems ill-advised to me; especially considering how awful every pollard-related release has been since 2005 (and there have been, roughly, 200 albums, singles etc since them...he is astoundingly prolific, which until recently was a good thing). i am hoping for the best, but expecting the worst -- so maybe i'll be surprised.

the guided by voices reunion album was announced on the same day that r.e.m. disbanded, and it's a small wonder that such events could transpire parallel of one another, given how underappreciated and forlorn r.e.m. has been (in its critical reception) in the past 10 years. r.e.m. still represents something unimpeachable in my brain, and i can shamelessly call them the greatest american band since the velvet underground without exception or hesitance. their early music was fog-filled, gothic (in the proper sense), mysterious and alive in such an exceptional way as to exist without comparison. nearly everything they touched from 1982 until 1992 was brilliant and beautiful, nothing redundant but continually arresting, evolving; summoning visions of abandoned railyards, broken viaducts hanging over discolored rivers, haunted fields, their music alternated between jangling, anthemic and vibrant pop and the moody inflections of folk music. r.e.m. was one of the very few bands who could conjure the darkness of the american landscape, a darkness that is particular to america, the darkness of leadbelly and skip james, inherent in folk before its unfortunate rape by peter, paul and mary. after '92 they faltered only slightly, completing two relatively straight-forward rock albums with interesting internal detours, "monster" and "new adventures in hi-fi." when their drummer left, they produced a beautiful electronic album - upon which everyone took a massive, unforgiving shit - called "up." if it's any consolation, radiohead took kindly to it, to an extent that "kid a" was predicated on the initiative shown on "up." their two albums following that flailed and seemed uninspired, until their last two records, "accelerate" and "collapse into now" showed visible signs of vitality and pulse (i am growing hopelessly fond of the songs "oh my heart" and "uberlin" from the latter). they decided to disband after this last record, and maybe that's for the best, retaining dignity and all that. no one should aspire to look like the rolling stones right now, or to - god forbid - sound like them. i lament that i won't be able to see them perform again, but not out of novelty of having "seen" them; more for the fact that they were always an astoundingly good live act, and every performance seemed impassioned, venomous. r.e.m. was never a "cool" band, and barely anyone i know listens to them - quite a same given their role in independent music, but the perception of them as being entirely too sincere and nebbish hasn't lent them the mystique of other bands. r.e.m. never had much of an image -- look at the drummer's eyebrows for chrissakes -- but their music hardly begged for one. though they don't have as many amazing songs as someone like pollard, they have infinitely more effecting compositions, songs that are emotionally interesting. "try not to breathe," "gardening at night," "e-bow the letter," "daysleeper," "nightswimming," "monty got a raw deal," "sweetness follows," "laughing," "sitting still," "world leader pretend," "turn you inside out," "tongue," "feeling gravity's pull," "maps and legends," "west of the fields," "electro-lite," "half a world away"....my god, "country feedback," jesus, that song...ah...listen, let me combat myself and the loquacity with which i am crippled by simply stating, r.e.m. is a fucking phenomenal thing, and i love them more than i can bear. one of my active dreams (however meager it may be) is to have someone say to me, "hey, would you make me a mix of r.e.m. songs? i don't really know how fabulous they are, how beautiful their music is...tell me all about it." i wish one day to extend my enthusiasm, so that others may appreciate r.e.m. in their collective lack of cool. i lament their death, but i celebrate them all the same.

anyhow, whatever purpose existed in this post has quietly bowed out, left me with my enthusiasms, etc. i wanted to put one more post on this specific blog before moving along to another blog that i'm trying to summon the necessary strength to populate. i don't feel like i can write about music in this capacity any more, however self-serving or fun it may have been -- there are too many other things i want to write, primarily removed of their relation to other things (however much they move me). i needed an expiable entry to purge myself of my music obsessions, solely to move on to writing other things. i despise that feeling - you begin writing something and then are submerged by opposing interests. if i want to write imaginatively, i need to extricate myself from these critical capacities, to write disconnected from whatever tethers me to the reality of subjects already flanked with analytical apparatuses and devices.

if you've actually read this, here's the last musical link i'll post on here - fitting, probably - for the original mix of "nevermind." it will probably be taken down by administrators soon, so act fast if you care to.

http://www.mediafire.com/?uhkih0wfb3tpjwk

Alex Chilton - "Dusted in Memphis"

and to flesh everything out



this completes the best of chilton's solo career. "dusted in memphis" exists somewhere between "like flies on sherbert" and "bach's bottom" for me, as it trumps the latter while being subservient to the former. aside from the excellent seeds cover, another great song is "walking dead," appearing here in its most stark version. "windows motel" is also wonderful - disarming, but wonderful all the same. i can't say enough about any of these three records, despite some of their obvious failings. anyway, enjoy any or all of them as you may.

here's a link to a great blog where this can be nabbed:

http://knowyourconjurer.blogspot.com/2010/03/alex-chilton-dusted-in-memphis-1980.html

Alex Chilton - "Bach's Bottom"

continuance of a theme (of sorts)



and yet another installment from the "troubled genius whose life was derailed by self-destructive behavior and emotional instability" category...honestly, that's such an anonymous story, one hardly befitting a person whose music was as intuitive and wonderful as chilton's; yet, his "legend" (for lack of a less pious and platitudinous term) seems wreathed by such descriptions. sadly, chilton became less inclined to write and perform his own material as the years went on, leaving a surfeit of albums blemished with cover versions and the implacable suspicion that he'd kind of ceased to care. however, his first few solo albums - "like flies on sherbert" happily included - were more than adequate, approaching a different kind of feeling from that of big star. forsaken though his early solo records are, i think both of them are wonderful in their own delirious way. "bach's bottom" is admittedly inferior to "sherbert," but whereas that album espouses the same scattershot, disintegrating brilliance that gave birth to "3rd," "bach's bottom" settles for more modest aims, instead merrily announcing itself as a fun, albeit highly strange and alternately disturbing record. the first four tracks - "take me home and make me like it," "every time i close my eyes," "all of the time" and "oh baby i'm free" - are actually well-assembled pop songs with humorous lyrics, especially the first track with its line about "call me a slut in front of your family." by the time the beatles cover arrives, though, everything has fallen straight to hell, with spaces opening in the music, mistakes, incidental noise - documentation of things going horribly wrong. the music kind of falls apart after that, making it an uneven record that doesn't reward as nicely as "sherbert" or - from the same period of time - the wonderful "dusted in memphis" album. "bach's bottom" is less essential than either "sherbert" or "dusted," but it serves its purpose, as to my personal psychology: any chilton is better than no chilton.

here's a link from recessed filter (the actual album ends at track 9...everything thereafter is supplemental):

http://recessedfilter.wordpress.com/2010/04/09/alex-chilton-bachs-bottom/

Alex Chilton - "Like Flies on Sherbert"

something different.



it's almost hysterical trying to count how many times "shambolic" is used in conjunction with this and several other chilton-related albums ("bach's bottom" and big star's "3rd" especially), but as to what such a thing genuinely expresses fails me on any level - the language seems impenetrable, moribund and inflexibly grey. many, many derogatory and shitty things are said about "like flies on sherbert," seemingly on the basis that it bears scant familial resemblance to big star. well, if i may affect a bit of an ironic pose momentarily, i could easily riposte that little music on earth sounds like big star, but i don't judge everything with a guitar by whether or not it sounds like big fucking star. that aside, yes, this album sounds like one unending, cacophonous mess that seems extemporaneous, performed without rehearsal, see-sawing in whichever damned direction with the rudderless, directionless tumble of a drunk and seasick man, both of which mr. chilton could have conceivably been - but what matter? it's alive, unpleasant, poorly-recorded and self-negating; it effortlessly creates black vortices in which any listener sinks, profaning your ears and sensibilities with its complete lack of aesthetic concern, aim of composition or attention to form. the lore signifies that this album - recorded after the beautiful, bleak "3rd" - was truly the epitome of alex chilton vocalizing nothing short of oblivion and excess, drifting into the blah-blah-blah-blah. it helps never to read anything anyone ever writes about anything meaningful, especially pertaining to music, as most people cannot help but write about it ineffectually, with supreme, unsettling crudity and self-promotion.

eek. i probably sound as inane as anyone else - i never have been able to properly illustrate or cohere myself in regards to music, and i feel all the better for it (lest i use the word "shambolic" in a sad, half-hearted foundering for adjectives). i love this record. there. let's be terse and pretend anything other than the music matters.

download link casually grabbed from GOOGLE...(is that fine administrators? can you cease pestering me with your copyright laws? nobody gives a shit about cds anyway...even the toddlers have abandoned them)

http://www.mediafire.com/?g5wwmyfxwlj

please download this and piss off the pedants and demagogues who are so worried about this nonsense.

Albert Ayler - "Love Cry"

somehow, no accompanying videos for this album can be found on youtube - rasing many more questions than it answers.

though it's a bit removed from his earlier recordings and signals a slight alteration of his approach, this is one of my favorite alyler recordings.

enjoy!

care of forestroxx

http://www.mediafire.com/?f2zz5mkimzm

Skip James - "1931 Sessions"

as with many others, the first time i encountered skip james' music was when it was prominently featured in terry zwigoff's "ghost world," and my emotional reaction was not unlike the protaganist's - i felt a deep, guttural reaction to his voice, the labryinthine and vermiform melodic lines of his guitar playing, and felt myself dissolve amongst the atmosphere it created. it's nearly impossible to overstate the dramatic, gravitational power of james' musical voice, as its qualities are as intangible and phantasmal as its darkness and beauty. for years i've tried to pry for biographical information on james to little avail, but the most constant fixture of all my sundry searchings proves that he was an intractable, solitary man who felt little need to socialize or keep himself amenable to other bluesmen, distancing himself and concentrating solely on the music. this innate hermetism is evident in some of his compositions, which would be seemingly uncomfortable when heard in the presence of another person. listening at times feels like a private act of solitude.






download "1931 sessions"

http://www.mediafire.com/?ljyimvzbmwt

Rev. Robert Wilkins - "Prodigal Son"

when everything else is a bit too sallow and lacking in conviction



the past two months i've been religiously immersed in old blues music - most of it predating the common penumbra of what properly constitutes the "blues" as it is currently known, instead sharing similarities with folk or (as they were lamentably called) "race" records; primarily, mississippi john hurt, skip james, blind lemon jefferson, blind willie mctell, memphis minnie, blind willie johnson, blind boy fuller, memphis slim...obviously leadbelly is a prominent force within all of this, and i honestly think i could listen to his music for the rest of my life with the same perpetual kind of wonder, affection and beautiful sadness. rev. robert wilkins is a bit new to me, as i just came in contact with his music a few weeks ago. initially, i became interested through the rolling stones cover of "prodigal son" on "beggars banquet" and felt determined to seek out its progenitor. happily so, i must say. wilkins' music collates nicely with all the aforesaid names and artists who are still so sorely neglected, despite the immensity of their influence. it's hard to resist calling this music anything other than brutally honest - it is, almost painfully so. much of the greater capacity for benevolence and beauty - the larger possibilities of music as a form of intimate communication - are reflected perfectly in music of this kind. i have such overwhelming, zealous affinities for this old music (i could probably talk exhaustively about skip james for hours on end like a proper dullard) that i hope to convey that enthusiasm and expose it to others, as i find its charms so undeniable.

there's a 7 volume set of leadbelly that i'll upload soon - to the best of my knowledge comprised of all his various recordings. marvelous.

here's a fabulous blog and rev. wilkins' collection. please do enjoy.

http://onmuddysavariverbank.blogspot.com/2010/10/robert-wilkins-prodigal-son.html

Half Japanese - "Sing No Evil"

hark the oblong angels sing! and they all suspiciouly sound like jad fair....



"sing no evil" is possibly half japanese's greatest - and most accessible - album, attaining vergitinous heights with their evolving mixture of exotic percussion, feral jazz horns and guitar noise. within that frame exists perfect little pop songs, exceedingly memorable and illustrative of the unique, somewhat precocious perception of jad fair. i remember reading something that kurt cobain said, something to the effect that in a perfect world, people would walk around shopping complexes singing half japanese aloud. though my other favorites - "our solar system" and "music to strip by" - are objectively a bit too abstract and abrasive to be latched onto immediately, "sing no evil" has a singular warmth and inviting presence to it, permitting an easier listening experience to the uninitiated listener. without debate, this is the best introduction to half japanese and their fabulous little world.

download "sing no evil"

http://www.mediafire.com/?ktoijmmk2oz

if this suits your taste, by all means go back and download "our solar system," which was posted a few months ago here.

R.E.M - "Fables of the Reconstruction"

i have something of a fanatacism for the back catalogue of r.e.m., and am of the distinct opinion that from their debut ep "chronic town" until their major-label "automatic for the people" they were an uncompromising force of brilliance, creating wonderful pop music that was in no way flat, but rather pregnable with possibilities, terrific melodies, coruscating arpeggios and the impenetrable, murky voice of michael stipe. it is inevitable that the excitability and ingenuity of their music would slacken the longer they remained an operable group, as much as that is a certainty for virtually every band or artist who persists in making music for an extended period of time. r.e.m. had a stretch that is enviable, though, in that every record they released over a decade had something commendable, mesmeric about it. of their studio work from "chronic town" to "automatic," only their fifth record, "document," was marred by regrettable choices (mostly in the form of trying to "rock out" in a fashion that is entirely foreign to them). "out of time" - that preceded "automatic for the people" - does indeed have "shiny happy people" and a few other songs that are questionable, but the remaining four songs on the album are among the greatest songs of their respective career. as much as i am indebted to their full-length debut "murmur" for hours upon hours of listening and rapture, it is their third album, "fables of the reconstruction/reconstruction of the fables," to which i am recurringly drawn.



the texture of the record is one of its inherent charms for me, as there seems to be a slight, obscuring fog hanging over the instruments, and there is a feeling of being buried by the sounds it invokes. the chorus of "auctioneer" has a wall of flanged-guitars that scare the shit out of me, but that dissonance and the angular flashes of darkness permeate the whole album. i usually discredit the back stories surrounding the completion or composition of books, films, records, but in this instance i find it interesting that r.e.m. was preparing to disband shortly after the recording of "fables." the depressive atmosphere would certainly support that, and in a way it would be nice to speculate the "what-ifs" had they parted ways, leaving only "chronic town," "murmur," "reckoning" and this manic mess in their wake. the gothic, southern mood prevails through much of the album, especially the puzzling, entrancing "maps and legends," a song that could certainly pepper the soundtrack to any suicidal southerners summer, with its weary pulling and slow waves of chords; the word "impenetrable" - often used parallel to r.e.m. - is most apt here.



light occasionally breaks through, however, most notably - and merrily - on "green grow the rushes go." i have no goddamned idea what the hell stipe is singing about, but it brings a certain, inextinguishable joy to me whenever i hear it. i can see how the album could be viewed or castigated as "uneven" or some such adjective, as some of its juxtapositions are a bit surprising ("can't get there from here" or the strangely sedated end of the album, "wendell gee"). i welcome all of it promiscuously, and hope it can be enjoyed, and that news of its greatness will spread like contagion.



this is the remastered edition of the album with supplemental tracks. i grabbed this anonymously from the internet and the sound is a relief. the prior cd release of "fables" was mastered at such sub-humanly low levels that volume was a significant problem. this mix is unmuddied (as much as possible, it's meant to be a bit blurred) and rings with a refreshing clarity. enjoy!

download fables of the reconstruction:

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=7Z60P3ZY

Vincent Gallo - "When"..."Brown Bunny" OST..."Buffalo 66" OST

alas, this is the only video i can find for gallo's wonderful music on youtube.



unlike many people, i find nothing adverse or polarizing about vincent gallo in any of his numerous pursuits, whether it be music, film or painting. the conflation - and much of the acrimony surrounding the mere mention of his name - seems to arise from the purposefully outrageous persona that he has publicly adopted. the perception is that he's an arrogant, self-fellating egoist of the highest order, with little or no talent to fortify his claims to genius. he made a movie where he receives a blow job at the end! wow, what an arsehole, etc. it saddens me that a film as beautiful and honestly evocative of sorrow and inexpressible pain should be so uniformly derided by people who haven't even bothered to watch it. "the brown bunny" is among my favorite films, especially in terms of its minimalism and aesthetic. the tactile nature of its atmosphere, the sheer feel of it is almost impossible to explain. ozu, jarmusch and bela tarr are all wonderful filmmakers, but none of them have reached the universal zero, the reduction and systematic elmination of everything but pure, miserable sensation that is found in "brown bunny." herzog called it the greatest film about loneliness. jean-luc godard chose it for use in an installation he had a few years ago, expressing his admiration. "buffalo '66" is usually characterized as "quirky" or some similarly antiseptic adjective, with its style accused of existing without substance. i waver back and forth as to which film i admire more, but usually i settle on "brown bunny," simply for the fact that it is so taxing to watch. i can watch "buffalo" literally any time, and often do in long stretches. "bunny" is, however, something i feel compelled to prepare for as it devastates me, and by the final frame i feel as if i have all but vanished into its landscape. gallo's music is an extension of the loneliness and bare beauty of his films, and i carry about an insatiable regret for the fact that he has not produced more.

the "buffalo '66" soundtrack features king crimson, yes and some of gallo's own music (especially the dream-like "lonely boy"). the "brown bunny" features music primarily by john frusciante with nothing of gallo's own music (lamentably). gallo's own album "when" is a delight, and i have a difficult time expressing my love for its little melodies and incredible texture, its comforting warmth.


download "when"

http://www.mediafire.com/?z4ysndhjtj4

download "buffalo 66"

http://www.mediafire.com/?fiydumatg9x

download "brown bunny"

http://www.mediafire.com/?1xb9bss5zhk

Talk Talk..."Laughing Stock"

i have nothing remarkable to say concerning this album, other than the fact that i am heavily indebted to its charms and mesmerism. another one of those indispensible listening experiences for the late hours of the evening, when everyone across the world is inert, asleep or otherwise dead.

download "laughing stock":
http://www.mediafire.com/?agrzsyebj29

John Lurie..."Stranger Than Paradise" Soundtrack

as much as i adore jarmusch's films, i would hesitate to say he ever made anything as gorgeous and absorbing as two of his earliest efforts, "stranger than paradise" and "down by law." "dead man" is singular and hypnotic, and inevitably remains (to me at least) his last startling, inventive effort (i haven't had the opportunity to finish "limits of control," but i was quite taken with the hour i watched). john lurie, whose bizarre teflon acting helped characterize both "stranger" and "law," was responsible for creating both of their respective soundtracks, and they are terrifically evocative, with an almost bartokian string implementation and noted aylerisms. unlike most soundtracks, lurie's music is never passive and continually invites a world entirely of its own.

download "stranger than paradise"

http://www.mediafire.com/?4thteynz34y

Doors..."Strange Days"

i know, but listen.



for years i conscientiously abstained from listening to the doors, as my tolerance for the hagiography and hero-worship around morrison was skeletal and bare. ugh, especially those ubiquitous posters where his arms are outstretched and he's wearing that repugnant glare like a party mask. i've heard "roadhouse blues" enough to congeal six consecutive lifespans, etc. however, i watched "apocalypse now" over a year ago, and something about hearing "the end" while marlon brando is hacked apart with extreme prejudice...something just sent up the flagpole for me, and since then i've been listening to the doors after years of utter refusal. primarily, i've been listening to this album - aside from "horse latitudes," which is unintentionally hilarious, this is nearly perfect, entirely of its own. aside from "love me two times" and "people are strange" these songs have been nowhere near radio frequencies for the better part of four decades; absolute shame. i'm enamored of the guitar tone on these songs, especially "unhappy girl" and "moonlight drive." the arrangements are delirious, and no matter how overplayed "people are strange" may be, that carnivalesque, brechtian piano romp towards the end of the song will always act as a great sound of conveyance, transportive in a sense that is delirious and rightly strange. i care a great deal for the majority of their debut album and their third, "waiting for the sun." after that it's somewhat sporadic and prone to mediocrity, but "strange days" is the perect embodiment of what the doors' music was intended to be, fortunately avoiding the pratfalls and pretenses that such ambitions might bring. quite good, evocative - to be listened to exclusively during the late hours of the night.



download:

http://www.mediafire.com/?2xi4bmjedyn

Albert Ayler..."HIlversum Sessions"

speech is insufficient:



working with the quartet that was responsible for ayler's previous album, "vibrations," this session was recorded live in europe and presents an elongation on the themes of the prior work. it's debatable whether it reaches the disorienting, paramount heights of "vibrations," but i find its variations to be enlivening and sometimes favor it even more. ayler himself was a mercurial figure, and the wordless melisma and vocalizations of his playing leave me hollowed and immobilized. his playing definitively embodies the term "free jazz" in a much more appropriate way than either coltrane or coleman (at least to me), as there is nothing short of pure celerity and motion in his phrasing, an unbounded cry from the depths of the human body. though his renown is comparatively pale and bare alongside coltrane, there has been something of a renascent interest in his music (notably, there was a documentary a few years ago called "my name is albert ayler," though it is frustratingly rare to come across). i recently discovered that he's buried about 45 minutes from where i'm living now, so i intend on visiting his grave in the near future.



download "hilversum session" by albert ayler

http://rapidshare.com/files/217521741/Albert_Ayler_-_The_Hilversum_Session.rar

(this link is an advertisement for the wonderful "albert ayler depot" blog, which sponsors nothing but ayler's music...mercifully, they even have the holy ghost boxset):

http://albertayler.blogspot.com/

Robert Pollard and Doug Gillard..."Speak Kindly of Your Volunteer Fire Dept."

why the phrase "electric newspaper boy" resonates so deeply with me, why it makes me feel ineffaceably alive...i don't know, but here you go...



i'm attending the guided by voices reunion show in columbus, ohio, so i'm expectantly devouring the countless, massive amounts of music conducted under pollard's genius (yes, i believe him to be possessed of it in his own unmistakable way). i've been listening to guided by voices and robert pollard for nearly 6 or 7 years now, and though i may not listen to them as unflaggingly as i have in the past couple of years, i always return reverently before his drunken altar. pollard's solo career (until the recent dissolution of gbv) has remained mostly obscure to anyone but inveterate, dedicated fans. quite a shame considering "not in my airforce" and "waved out" are both studded with a gluttony of gems. then there's "speak kindly of your volunteer fire department," a record that provides me with a surfeit of warmth and happiness. collaborating with late-era gbv guitarist doug gillard, "speak kindly..." finds pollard at his most deliriously pop-oriented. it should be a cardinal sin to listen to songs this deliciously well-written. "pop zeus" is a rather obvious tune to praise (disgustingly perfect as it is), but tracks like "and i don't (so now i do)," "frequent weaver who burns," "slick as snails," "tight globes," and "larger massachusetts" are equally as enticing. lyrically, pollard is at his best here, and vocally he has rarely sounded as powerful and assured. even something as seemingly disposable as "soul train college policeman" is endeared due to its performance (and the strange sincerity with which "post-christmas cupcake handgrenade" is sung). in its entirety, this is a great record, on an equal footing with pollard's earlier solo effort "waved out." despite the preponderance of memorable tunes, the closing song ("and my unit moves") remains my unwavering favorite for reasons i could never possibly express.

download bob pollard and doug gillard's lovely little album:

http://megaupload.com/?d=G296J5IN

Guided by Voices..."Mag Earwhig!"

bob pollard & co. at its finest...



i'm definitely a populist in terms of "bee thousand," as it remains one of my favorite musical documents, but people tend to gravitate around the "era" encapsulating "propeller," "bee thousand," "alien lanes" and "under the bushes under the stars." guided by voices are typically derided (pollard in particular) as being unable to maintain a kind of quality control, but i'm nearing asceticism in my devotion and belief in the near majority of their catalogue. i love the earlier, ramshackle and lo-fidelity efforts as much as anyone (especially overlooked marvels such as "same place the fly got smashed," "sunfish holy breakfast" and "vampire on titus"), but the summary dismissal of the latter half of gbv's existence is inexcusable to me. the hip opinion is to chastize and inveigh against the band for its reliance on the hiss and murky distractions of limited recording devices, the lo-fi aesthetic, etc., but people overlook that what qualifies as "lo-fi" wasn't a luxury or affectation as it is currently. a band like guided by voices was driven and populated by people in their mid-30s who couldn't afford session time and preferred to do it themselves, rather nobly. their songs and ineluctable charm are not dependent on methods of production - a good song remains a good song. after disbanding gbv's "classic" line-up (a misnomer, horribly, since something like 50 people at any point played with the band) pollard recruited more conscientious and "professional" players. however outrageous people may have found this, the results are beyond this kind of record store banter bullshit.



"mag earwhig!" is beset with only 3 flaws - all of them forgivable, all of them occuring within the first 5 songs. those faults are - noticeably - "can't hear the revolution," "i am a tree" and the increasingly putrid "bulldog skin." aside from that, however, this record is phenomenal, at times reaching far beyond "under the bushes under the stars." "jane of the waking universe," "little lines," "sad if i lost it," "i am produced," "portable men's society," "not behind the fighter jet," "choking tara" and the chokingly-dense, apocalyptic "the finest joke is upon us" - my favorite on the album - alight in a kind of starburst grove, registering a level of intensity rarely reached on previous releases. the two successive albums - "do the collapse" and "isolation drills" - are far more uneven and tenuous, though still retaining a stunning amount of great songs (the former nowhere near as unlistenable as is often claimed). they regained their balance on their triumvirate of final releases, "universal truths and cycles," "earthquake glue" and "half-smiles of the decomposed," all of which permit the band to bow out gracefully (leaving - in my mind - a nearly unblemished discography).

download "mag earwhig!" by guided by voices:

http://www.mediafire.com/?byz90150wbz

Tim Buckley..."Lorca"

mournfully, this is the only track from "lorca" available on youtube, and therefore the only piece i can offer up for purposes of preview:



opinion tends to vacillate and unsteadily stammer back and forth with tim buckley's work, as there are some (myself among them) who think the majority of his discography is an unprecedented success, while others think his improvisational and experimental aspirations were beyond his means and only mildly successful; still others think all of his work is utter shit, saving their allegiance for the well-known covers of perhaps buckley's greatest song, "song to the siren" -- famously rendered by this mortal coil and innumerable others. a swarm of people also neglect tim in favor of his son, jeff, which i am stymied to even contemplate (understatedly, i am definitely NOT a fan). "lorca" preceded "starsailor" - his most ambitious and beautiful album - and divines some of the territory and depths he would later mine. initially my response to "lorca" was one of reluctance and modest admiration, due mostly to the confounding title track that commences the record, but i've evolved to it, i suppose, and it strikes me as one of his best efforts. the first side of the record is the more difficult of the two, with the latter half evoking the stylings of his previous release "blue afternoon" and some of the work on "happy sad." the focal point here is obviously buckley's voice, his characteristic hysterics and lunacy, his unfettered paroxysmal wailing. though living happily in the shadow of "starsailor" (or "goodbye and hello" for some people who wouldn't let him live down past glories), "lorca" is as good as the source of its namesake (frederico garcia lorca). ideal for late night solitude, as is most of his work.

download tim buckley's "lorca":

http://rapidshare.com/files/185148235/Lorca.zip

(i was feckless and took this link from singer-saints, a fantastic blog you should check out)

The Chills..."Kaleidoscope World" (Original Lp Version)

the chills were one of the most exciting bands to come out of the "dunedin" scene in new zealand in the 80s. along with the tall dwarfs, the clean, toy love, sneaky feelings, the stones, the verlaines, the scrotum poles, the great unwashed and a seemingly illimitable line of other fantastic groups, the defining sound of these new zealand bands came to surreptitiously influence the successive generations of american acts like pavement and guided by voices, despite the fact that these early progenitors remained in relative obscurity. the spectral traces of bands like the chills still has a resounding influence on a lot of current bands, though the sound has been somewhat desalinated by obnoxiously self-aware and "quirky" indie groups who simply can't write a song as hauntingly honest and affecting as "pink frost" or "we bleed love" (the tall dwarfs). even though these bands are seen, retrospectively, as representing a codified, ubiquitous sound, each group was alarmingly disparate, performing and writing "pop" music with their own singular perspective. the chills bear as little resemblance to the tall dwarfs as the verlaines do to to the clean.


"kaleidoscope world" was the first record i heard by the chills, finding an unscarred vinyl copy for 3 dollars. it isn't really an album proper, but it displays a coherence and progression that lends itself to the idea that it is meant to be one; in actuality, it's a compilation of early e.p.s the band recorded in its infancy, before recording its actual debut "brave words." the cd version of "kaleidoscope world" adds roughly 10 songs, which - though augmenting the length - disrupt the small little world of the original lp version, making the added tracks feel like swollen appendices. most other blogs i've been able to find that feature this album are proliferating the cd version, so i thought it'd be nice to publicize its original form (especially since i favor it over the other permutation). though this stuff isn't exactly technically innovative, it has a wonderful warmth and resonance, achieving its own form of marvelous perfection.

download the chills "kaleidoscope world" (lp version)

http://www.mediafire.com/?ezytngnntwh

Krzysztof Penderecki..."A Portrait"

while notably bereft of his larger works such as the "de natura sonoris no.2" and "threnody for the victims of hiroshima," this collection offers a further glimpse into penderecki's inimitable oeuvre. with ligeti, varese, satie and bartok - penderecki is among the higher echelons of composers with whom i share a tremendous amount of time. though i'm preferential to the "matrix 5" collection, along with penderecki's collaboration with don cherry (which approaches a new form of music entirely -- free jazz and avant-garde classical music...wow), this is a more than adequate way to negotiate the interminable hours ahead.

download penderecki "a portrait"

http://depositfiles.com/en/files/98bilp2pl

HARRY PARTCH..."THE WORLD OF HARRY PARTCH"

harry partch is one of my most beloved composers, and his levity and humor are only superseded by his spirit of invention and originality. partch's music shares several percussive affinities with traditional gamelan music, also using microtonal scales that have scant presence in traditional western music. though bartok, penderecki, varese, lamonte young and terry riley have explored similar realms through the use of quatertones or intonations, employing what is often referred to as "avant-garde" tuning to extend sound intervals through octaves, no one raised it to the heights of partch. he not only patented a 43 tone scale but wrote music almost expressly for his own created instruments - everything from marimbas that were meant to emulate a bass and xylophones forged from disused hubcaps and bottles. though some of it is expectedly atonal and dissonant (as is much if not all avant-garde music), there is a great deal of partch's compositions that are diffuse and dream-like, some of it bordering on absolute joy.

personally, there's so much partch music out there - and the majority of it is all so damned good - that any starting place seems ideal if you haven't heard much. "the world of harry partch" adequately conveys his musical personality, and is much more tersely assembled than some of the the more comprehensive, unassailably-massive boxsets and collections out there.


download "the world of harry partch"

http://www.mediafire.com/?tmizflzhjdt