Late Spring 2024 (Part 2)

Al Karpenter - The Forthcoming [Ever/Never] 

Al Karpenter & CIA Debutante - Al Karpenter & CIA Debutante [Ever/Never] 

When something cool finds its way to me from Spain, there’s a good chance Mattin is involved somehow (see La Grieta) and Al Karpenter is no different. Much like Alice Cooper before him, “Al Karpenter” is both the name of the bandleader and the band. On The Forthcoming LP released by Ever/Never, Al Karpenter (the band) is rounded out by Marta Sainz, Enrique Zaccagnini and Mattin, of course. The participants don’t stop there. Ever the collaborator, Al Karpenter (the band) is joined by one or more of the following on five out of six tracks: Triple Negative, Suni Kim, and Dominic Coles. The Forthcoming is a calculated mess, and a pleasant one at that. The earth is ever shifting beneath the listeners feet but Al Karpenter never assaults nor overwhelms. There is a surprising amount of space given the number of humans who had a hand in the birth of these sounds. Karpenter’s fragmentary lyrics find air to breathe amid rumblings of double bass, frayed guitar chords, left-channel jazz band ruminations, bleep-bloops and shhhhzzkkszzz of digital sandpaper. Just about everything is at Al Karpenter’s disposal to form these fractured fairy tales. There’s little in the way of suspended sounds, which makes the sustained tones that rear their heads on album highlight “Happy B-Day! (with Dominic Coles and Suni Kim)” all the more arresting. And when you finally arrive at the epic closer “Drood (Can You Hear Me Now?)” you know for sure that Mr. Karpenter kneels at the altar of St. Scott (Walker) and everything becomes clear as a stained glass crucifixion. Pulling from eras as far ranging as dada, beat poetry, underground rock and software-derived sound design, Al Karpenter brews a cauldron of complex and complimentary sonic scraps. 

The collaborative spirit lives on with the eponymous debut of Al Karpenter & CIA Debutante (also on Ever/Never), who likely found each other to be their only match on whatever dating app is popular with European avant-rock outfits these days. In my prior experience with CIA Debutante I mentioned the fragrances of The Shadow Ring and Excepter, and I’d say based on those comparisons alone you can hear the influence of CIA Debutante right away on “Born Dead’. A slow, queasy crawl of comatose drum machine and drifting oscillators. Does CIA Debutante make Al Karpenter weirder, and vice versa? At what point do you just hit the max weirdness brick wall and no amount of multipliers can push the weirdness an inch further? “What’s left of the village?” Karpenter repeatedly intones on “Ruined Map” the most blearly-eyed and quietly antagonistic track on the record. I’m pretty sure the villagers fucking left, dude, you were just too weird. I don’t think they took kindly to your insistent performance of “Fuck You All To Fade No More” in the town square, with all the unappreciated frequencies flyin’ at ‘em. “For Your Love” is, unfortunately, not a Yardbird’s cover. Come to think of it, that probably would have overweirded the weird wall. Instead, it’s the occasional filter sweep, someone rustling around in the kitchen for that goddamn missing saucepan, a distressed woman hollering and Karpenter showing up at the end to chide us: “You have to leave a lasting impression”, he says. Indeed. 

The supergroup attempts to make a hardcore record and a Mark E. Smith tune at the same time on “Public Scaffolding” with Al Karpenter seemingly doubling its typical tempo. The arrangement shifts imperceptibly at first sounding like a theoretical rock band then an industrial appliance testing facility by the end. Every anti-rock & roll record has got a party tune, and “Medieval Cocaine” is the party tune here (fans of Budokan Boys’ I’m So Broken Up About You Dying oughta take note). Feel that bass curling up your belly making you want to freaky deaky? It wraps with a plunderphonic D’n’B jam just to keep you on your toes. Perhaps most disturbing of all are “Put On Your Mask” and “This is an Invisible Song” which are the most harmonious moments of the album making them somehow more deeply unsettling than the cacophonies. I think it's pretty easy to figure out whether Al Karpenter or any of his/its collaborators are for you. 

(blouseusa) - Stimulus Overinclusion [Drongo Tapes] 

Now something for the techno-hippies. At its core, the first side of Stimulus Overinclusion is about sparking up some incense and summoning sonic spirits under the sullen night sky. However, that tuneage is thoroughly electronically molested by the hands of the 21st century media gods. What I dig about (blouseusa) is that it’s not a folktronica act. Some delicate acoustic plucks, a little skittering tick-tick-ticka-tick. Snooze... That act expired almost immediately upon birth and it was only the truly inventive ones (or ones with really good songs) that got any mileage out of those rather docile, barren “soundscapes”. The great Blouses of America, however, avoid that trap (beat). Most of the time they’re mingling their dalliances with acoustic and non-acoustic realms so that they form one thoroughly merged sound simulation. Take for instance the “drum solo” that opens the second side of the tape (the title track, naturally). Perhaps that drum solo was at one time played by a human but what you’re hearing is not just a human playing a drum solo. It’s edited, refracted, though not enough for the distracted ear to notice. It’s defiantly not a drum circle either, the lux blouse has left all that hippie shit on Side A. The real surprise here is “Digable Kale”, which features an unspecified contribution from Nathan Smurthwaite and recalls the bygone era when the youth cared about smashing their faces to bands like Polvo and 8+ minute complex rock & roll tunes. How’s that for a left turn? Oh yeah, Stimulus Overinclusion wraps on a 90 second Tangerine Dream-damaged sermon. Tons of ideas on display here, most of ‘em good, and no real unifying element. A cassette for those who like surprises! 

Kingbird - Kingbird [no label] 

Released in the dying light of 2023, this eponymous debut LP by Kingbird appeared out of the blue on my doorstep earlier in the year, in the middle of a city-debilitating ice storm no less. I was unexpectedly perplexed that the United States Postal Service even bothered to drop by in such dire circumstances, let alone that the proprietors of the aforementioned Kingbird acted on the notion of scrawling my address on a cardboard box. As though I was not already a recipient of great generosity from strangers, I was blessed to find that this mysterious Kingbird who nested on my welcome mat was actually quite good! Not so mysterious after I read the back cover that delineates the responsibilities of Kingbird’s two members, Patrick Crowson and Josh Allen. There are several wonderful qualities at play, one being that I can’t pinpoint a perfect analog to compare it to. Hall of Fame or early Caethua came to mind. Califone maybe, less the electric tricks. And wasn’t “kingbird” in a Califone album title? (It is actually Heron King Blues, you buffoon Ed.) Perhaps Mickey Newbury’s art-country opuses on the blissful mist of “Healed Already”. But none of them are right. When you fail the comparison test, that’s a pass in my book. The sound is rustic. A touch old timey, but not full revivalism a la The Wandering Stars, and the tunes are delivered in 21st century fidelity so this isn’t a past-fixated duo. Songs often just seem to linger, hover, gently existing. Open but intimate. A hummingbird is moving even when it's still, apparently a Kingbird is part of the same genus or phylum or whathaveyou. There is a pleasing amount of rust on Crowson’s pipes, and his raspy croon sells each one of the LP’s tunes. Take a trip to the pond, float on your back and gaze at the leaves on the trees for a while. Kingbird is a nice place to be. 

Power Strip - Nothing Yet [Drongo Tapes] 

What a great name. Power Strip. I’m amazed I haven’t come across someone else using it. I’m ashamed that I didn’t come up with it for my list of generic utility product names that have no bands attached. Nothing Yet, the second PS release for Drongo Tapes, is a handful of songs in the solo “shoegazey” dream pop vein that grows ever more popular and I become ever more suspicious of. But, hey, not only does Power Strip have good taste in names, Power Strip has good taste in tunes. Power Strip a.k.a. Nellie Albertson has a lovely voice and paces Nothing Yet quickly (perhaps a little too quickly at times) so things don’t get boring, or sound especially derivative. Sounds like she’s a fan of the full 4AD roster rather than copying a specific band. Nothing Yet is fragmentary, light not weightless, conjuring a vague apparition once or twice of the easy listening version of The Goslings’ sludge dreams. The obvious centerpiece here is “Fog Bath” which feels like it takes up half of the tape’s runtime. Albertson manages to move the song gracefully through various permutations, never once stepping wrong. However, the finale “Hole”, delivers the only misstep according to my rulebook: the appearance of a cheapo drum machine. It’s a bit of a buzzkill but the song is strong enough to succeed anyway, with Albertson freely showing off her pop prowess. All in all, a promising tape.

Tyvek - Overground [Ginkgo] 

In the not too distant past, I had a dream where I somehow invited myself into Tyvek, then convinced everyone in the band to record a Christmas song that I had written “in the style of Tyvek”. The song was really good, naturally. Some months later, I had a sequel dream where this classic Xmas recording not only still existed but was popular enough that I was gallivanting around my undergrad university being chased by campus police, ostensibly for the shooting of a music video. A true rebel. So, last December, when I was completely caught off guard that Tyvek had dropped their first LP, Overground, in 7 years—a Christmas miracle in my mind—I guess I shouldn’t have been. The Lord had been speaking to me the whole time: “I shall summon forth a new Tyvek and the world will rejoice.” 

Tyvek breathlessly tears through seven songs on the A-side, tried and true behavior replete with bashed strings, bashed drums and rapid fire plosives. “What Were We Thinking” already feels like it’s been a Tyvek classic for years. (The twin 50s rock & roll guitar leads are not to be missed.) I can say the same about “What It’s For”. It's like a Tyvek tune I’ve known all my life. Except there’s honking sax all over it. Oh yeah! Did I mention that the band has a full-time sax player (Emily Roll) on the LP? How cool. Kevin Boyer, Tyvek President & CEO, has been the preeminent master of turning the quotidian experiences of daily life into rallying cries and he reveals another “Low! Tumble Dry! Low! Tumble Dry! Low! Tumble Dry! Low!” on “Going Through My Stuff”. And effortlessly turns “I’m seeing U-Hauls everywhere” into a singalong chorus on (you guessed it) “U-Hauls”. 

Overground really blasts off on its second side. “Rhythm/Pattern” is the frantic, syncopated highlight of the record. Paired perfectly behind it is the comedown,“Trash & Junk”, grooving like a caffeinated Velvets jam. Speaking of… Tyvek venture to the outskirts with their own “Gift”, the loose limbed, free flowing title track. It’s killer. Up there with the great Tyvek experiments like “Underwater 3”. Boyer ruminates on the weather, and poses inward questions like “Is it too late to be stateless?” as the band unfurls the groove around him. What more to say? Nearing the two decade mark, Tyvek are living legends at this point. 

What - The Unconscious is a Machine for Operating an Animal [Eiderdown] 

When pedal steel, “incidental percussion” and test equipment appear in the list of credited instruments my ears always perk up. What is a duo Alan F. Jones, the steel player, and Dave Abramson, the percussionist. I’ve got a solo disc somewhere from Jones (he records as A.F. Jones) and a Sloow tape with Abramson in duo mode with Wally Shoup (R.I.P.) but this is the first time I’ve heard them join forces. Going through my memory banks, I think the only other recording I own of this pedal steel+drums configuration is the wailing splatter of The Rocker by Jailbreak (the duo of Heather Leigh and Chris Corsano) and What generates vastly different results. 

The Unconscious is a Machine for Operating an Animal is meditative at times but always a little scary. Alienation via vast emptiness. Jones can make the pedal steel sound like an air raid siren or a shadow falling across a rock face, depending on mood. Opener “Mesopause” is as perfect a statement of purpose as I can imagine. The sounds positively fill the room, harrowing haunt-factor well-intact. The album title is taken from a scientific essay by Cormac McCarthy and I can’t say that I’m surprised that that’s where these guys’ heads are at. The title track is the most serene moment on the tape, as the pedal steel is let loose to indulge in the unbridled beauty of the instrument’s endless tones. Alternately, “The Charm of Crisis” sounds as if it’s nearly a solo percussion piece yet the atmosphere is as thick as ever. “Sun-Bleached Mandible” seems similar from the outset with lots of space (not silence) with massive thwacks raining down from the heavens every so often. Almost imperceptibly, the scattershot ambiance settles into a serious groove. Not funky in the least, in fact it’s pretty unfunky, but totally hypnotic with spastic bouts of free drumming dappling the pulsating surface. A tastefully minimalist trip to the kosmische-zone and What’s best track. There is such a mindmeld between Jones and Abramson that it’s frankly jaw dropping that Animal is only What’s first release. These guys were born to play together.

Late Spring 2024 (Part 1)

Beatnik Filmstars - Pink Noize [Slumberland] 

Okay, now this seems like I’m the target of some A.I. shenanigans. A band called “Beatnik Filmstars”?! The record is called “Pink Noize”. It was released in 1995. It’s a five track 7” 45 rpm EP. I definitely feel like my brain was plugged into a state-of-the-art supercomputer and it outputted something perfectly designed for me to be into. But, no, this record is not an A.I. simulation of “stuff AuxOut digs”, this was a real band that released a real record in 1995. And somehow I never heard of them! (Turns out they have a decent-sized wikipedia page, released a truckload of singles and a bunch of albums, including some on Merge. Did I just wake up from a coma? Ed.) The record is not earth shattering but when I say there is a Fall-meets-SY jammer called “National Pool Drama”, or a hooky sugar-noise number that feels like it lasts 45 seconds (“50/50 Split”), or that there’s a Swell Maps-y sheen slathered over their alterna-pop stylings (artwork included), or that a Gnat synthesizer is a credited instrument, you will know I’ve enjoyed the hell out of listening to this. Still available from Slumberland! 

Eyes and Flys & Personal Style - Labor Day [no label] 

While Eyes and Flys fled to the sunshine of Long Beach, Personal Style stayed true to those proverbial roots in Buffalo, NY. Thanks to the miracles of technology we take for granted, that geographical separation doesn’t mean these Buffalo boys can’t stay friends or even make records together. And you know what? This single really rips! Two head bashing pop tunes in the manner that Eyes and Flys is known for (Pat Shanahan’s bark is easily identifiable) but the addition of Personal Style (who is new to me) really opens up the E&F sound in a profound way—like going mono to stereo. Leaping out of a foggy guitar loop, the B-side “White Strawberries” is a b-side in a purely literal sense. The lead guitar totally shreds, providing killer melodies and a brilliant punk lead at the break while Shanahan snarls about not letting the cops in because they don’t like dogs. The A-side, “Labor Day”, similarly rules. Modern practitioners of the Flipper bassline renewal project like SF’s Life Stinks, they ride the riff for all its worth and drive the psych-kraut groove home not unlike that first 10” by another SF band Wooden Shjips. The track comes replete with some phenomenal spaced out breakdowns that build the tension for each successive chorus. A lot of replayability in this one. I’m a fan. I hope this isn’t a one-off! 

Saint Black - Saint November [Semi-Permanent] 

Hurtling through space and time all the way from New Jersey comes the latest release from lo-to-no-fi troubadour Saint Black, an EP called Saint November, following up a self-titled album from four years prior. The first sound you hear after popping in the disc is the Saint’s unaccompanied voice murmuring “castrate me gently”. The man knows his audience. Saint Black stripped away much of the sonic detritus that littered the last record (which I personally quite enjoyed) making for a more focused document of his vocation. 10 minutes and six tracks of broken down tunes centered around Saint Black’s Calvin Johnson-esque-by-way-of-Charlie-McAlister voice. “Saint New” is the one rocker. Thumping drum machine and an acoustic arpeggio with a fuzzy voice leaking all over it. A catchy promise lasting just a minute. Sometimes the songs emerge quite pretty (with some creasing around the eyes of course) such as “Saint Fun” or the seasick instrumental “Saint Hound”. Other times the songs are more direct and single-minded as on “Saint Guy” or the chunky guitar clank of “Saint Action”, riding the line between sonorous and alienating. Fans of early Smog, Graham Repulski or any other dumpster poets you may fancy, you know what to do! 

TV Dinner Education/Telephone Melts - split [Cudighi] 

Two Swedish acts paying tribute to important 20th century technological advancements (the telephone and the TV dinner, naturally) made for pretty easy work at Cudighi HQ when the label searched for a thematic pairing for its next split cassette. Cudighi introduced me to TV Dinner Education a few years back and I went gaga over their frenetic sounds. Can’t say that Telephone Melts rings a bell though. (A little old timey telephone joke there for those born in the previous century.) 

Kicking things off with TV Dinner Education, “Flip Heli Salto (discern visually using a backwards and forwards movement)” has a very long title for a very minimal track. Totally on brand based on the other TVDE tape I heard, the track is firmly rooted in the Liquid Liquid/ESG mutant disco realm. Drum thump. Cling clang jingle jang. Echoing staccato huffs and puffs. “Selfexplanatory” reminds me quite a bit of Angels in America. (A feat that excites me as that is still fertile soil for new bands to till. Hint, hint.) Skeletal, hypnotic, repulsive. Spiritual transmissions from a junkyard. Returning to 1981 NYC, “BOX-ing” sounds like DNA played at 33prm. Or maybe 19rpm. A deliberate tension developed more through focused restraint than a dearth of pitches traditionally welcomed by the human ear.  

Telephone Melts takes the flip. Pleasingly, the act (a one-guy-does-it-all project by Martin Hagrot) doesn’t sound like TV Dinner Education at all. Hagrot is on a different tip, one steeped in David Byrne and the same sickly sweet slime as 21st century lo-fi synth pop revisionaries like Man Made Hill and Zach Phillips. Dabbling in bedroom-rendered quasi-funk tunes (“Hotfix”) as well as moody early-digital keyboard-led instrumental laments (“Nitty Gritty”), it makes this cassette’s aural trek to the Land of the Midnight Sun well worth it. 

Unda Fluxit - Stone Ringing Sorrows [Ever/Never] 

I never got around to writing up this cassette when it came out but it’s stuck with me ever since so I’m finally getting a brief few words up now. Stone Ringing Sorrows is the magically solemn sophomore effort of Huma Aatifi who creates sinewy avant-folk songs on a 4-track. Jandek has been a common point of comparison, and fair enough, but to these ears Unda Fluxit’s music is warmer and more inviting than the stranger who hails from Texas. If you’ll permit me a bit of 90s indie rock fan fiction, Unda Fluxit evokes the image of The Dead C somehow slipping onto the MTV Unplugged stage and rattling strings and brains across the nation. Unda Fluxit’s music hovers in the liminal, perfect state between consonance and dissonance. Pitches from her voice, guitar, a drum and other instruments wander down their own paths, sometimes crossing, coalescing and saying “Hello”, other times diverging just enough to be unaware of each other’s presence. It is a riveting, soulful effect that lingers through each of the wonderful pieces on Stone Ringing Sorrows and is well worth a listen if you haven’t already found yourself unda Fluxit’s spell.

John Wiese - Magnetic Stencil 1 [Gilgongo]

John Wiese - Magnetic Stencil 2 [Gilgongo]

John Wiese - Magnetic Stencil 3 [Gilgongo] 

John Wiese is a highly respected sound artist and he does fancy sound installations in museums and galleries. He’s been in the game a long time and is certainly deserving of his rep, but sometimes I wonder if this gets a bit lost in the global brainspace (though I hope it doesn’t): Wiese makes cool music. He’s your stereo’s best friend. This record I have of Wiese live sampling saxophonist Evan Parker is so fucking cool. His record I have of cascading samples of glass breaking is cool. The Sissy Spacek/Smegma collab record he did (also on Gilgongo) is super fucking cool, and, subsequently, the aforementioned Gilgongo dropped a trio of cool Wiese records collectively called Magnetic Stencil. Three LPs is a lot to dig into but the immersive experience is certainly worth your while. 

Always on the cutting edge of clatterphonics (is this a term? If not, it is now), Wiese constructed Magnetic Stencil with source audio contributions from a seemingly endless list of collaborators: (deep breath) Aaron Dilloway, James Fella, C. Lavender, Aaron Hemphill (Liars), Lasse Marhaug, C. Spencer Yeh, Katie Vonderheide, Tim Kinsella (Joan of Arc/Cap’n Jazz), Dennis Tyfus (the Ultra Eczema label), Howard Stelzer, John Collins McCormick, Robert Turman… I’m out of breath but, believe me, I could go on. The jackets don’t provide much detail other than the contributor list and the date and location where the composition took place so embrace the mystery, folks. 

Wiese’s work is constantly in motion. People sometimes use the word “transporting” to describe feeling like you’re in a different realm while you experience art. Wiese’s music is “transporting” in a more functional sense. He creates the sensation that you are moving, in transit, that you will end up somewhere far from where you begin. His music is a vehicle, touring you through the territory he’s mapped. Magnetic Stencil 1 is heavily dynamic, everywhere you turn there is something to see. Of the three LPs, it is the most abrasive, the most “noise”, the most violent in its composition. Sounds never seem to accost you from the same direction twice. Shards of frequencies are cut up and reassembled incorrectly with great care. You are slapped in the face by searing feedback. Resonating vibraphone.  Synth burps. Gnawing gears. Unintelligible human voice—all the sounds in between words. Split-second blasts of static socking you in the stomach. Even the brief occasional silence. My favorite section comes near the end when plenty of space is made for what sounds like a human mouth forming and popping bubbles of spittle. A looping, loping bass grind overtakes it, a rare instance of repetition across the vast spread of Magnetic Stencil. The second side somehow ratchets up the intensity several notches, beginning in even bolder fashion. Acoustic percussion screeches and clangs. Gnashing. Scraping. An ark’s worth of unidentifiable piezo-amplified sounds form the gelatinous fodder that Wiese sculpts with. Peppering in incisive piano-like plinks and insistent electronic thuds. This side comprises the most propulsive piece of the bunch, and that's even before a couple drum samples parachute in and evaporate just as quickly. Unsettling and agitated. Truly excellent. 

In contrast to the other two LPs, Magnetic Stencil 2 is a dense, blurry maelstrom. Like watching a hurricane strip the Earth of its riches from a removed vantage point comfortably seated in the eye of the storm. The second record has comparatively few contributors (only four compared to the much longer lists of names on the first and third records). Belaboring this tropical storm metaphor, as the tempest begins to lull and loom elsewhere, the leftover wreckage rattles, twisting in the gale force winds, while synth squeaks buckle like barely standing structures. And then the storm gathers again… On the flip side, electricity crackles, remnants of a human voice strain to communicate and fall woefully short. The piece hobbles and lurches, intermittently pausing to catch its breath, as it wheezes its way to some destination it never reaches, descending into a tantrum of frustration. 

Magnetic Stencil 3 springs to life immediately, dunking your head right into a synthetic ecosystem. Micro-sounds nestle up against each other. Strong tape music/musique concrète odors here, and not many things smell lovelier to this palate. Wiese’s composition brims with activity. Darting from frequency to frequency, there is an extensive array of repurposed acoustic sounds intermingling in a chaotic dance. Some intersect, some tear right past, some sounds seem to worm around the others. The sound of a metal cup rattling around in someone’s luggage, the sounds of birds in the tree hanging over your house, the sound of a slurring drunken diplomat, a fucking door bell. All sounds have a home here and their glory will be cultivated and admired. Is that a trombone or a whoopee cushion? Inspiring work! I feel like I live a lifetime of experiences in 20 minutes. 

The second side is similarly wonderful but more relaxed, more spacious, more environmental. Like sitting on your roof and having every sound in the ether magnified into painterly strokes. Abstract aural elications evoking specific sound-images. The squirrels scurrying through the trees. The car rolling by, windows down, radio on. The distant din of the train ambling by. The choral hum of air conditioners. Neighbors murmuring inaudibly about the weather. Burgers sizzling on a grill. Children chanting numbers as they venture through the wilds of chalked hopscotch courses. The movers down the block dropping a lamp. The piece gets progressively “musical” as it drifts toward its conclusion, as sustained pitches make their presence felt from time to time. Of the three fantastic LPs, this is the one that really gets me giddy. Righteously gorgeous and highly recommended. 

Magnetic Stencil forms a monumental trio and you can’t go wrong with any or, especially, all of them.

Early Spring 2024

Elena Dakota - River Record! [Cudighi] 

Been sleeping on getting a review together for another wonderful cassette from Cudighi Records but I’m awake now. Elena Dakota is a brand new name to me (and the nom de plume of Elena Nees), and what a talent she is. Last September, I spent a week in the backyard stripping and sealing my deck. I started listening to the SongExploder podcast, which I’d heard much about. I listened to many episodes with “singer-songwriter” types that I was not very fond of. Sometimes, when they played the demo at the beginning, the seed was promising but by the end of the episode the final version was totally forgettable. Too much affectation in the vocal performances, consistently unaffecting or unimaginative arrangements, no je ne sais quois. I asked the music podcast gods, why couldn’t I have heard an episode with Elena Dakota? Or, for that matter, an episode for each of the eight songs comprising River Record!? Everything that my jaded ears objected to, is done properly by Nees. 

Nees’s voice is sleepily sanguine, accompanied by the gentle thrum of her guitar. The arrangements are spare but never boring, and sometimes one of the guest instruments really makes the song (see Sam Newman’s lonesome trombone on “These Walls Know How To Float” and “Plasticine, as I do the Sky”, or the muffled thump of the percussion on “Rice Noodles”, another highlight). “Walls”, in particular, stands out with the way Nees’s voice delicately intertwines with the brass and winds coiling around her. Nees shifts the tempo up on “Women in the Air”, her most accomplished composition, that really shines with gorgeous vocal harmonies. The spectacular closer “Lady Godiva (There is No Gun)” seems to push open the tight Academy aspect ratio that has framed River Record! up to that point into a sprawled out widescreen composition as Elena Dakota saunters off hypnotically into the distance, with her backing band in tow.

Reminiscent of the intimacy of Maxine Funke, early Leonard Cohen, Nick Drake aglow under a pink moon and maybe a bit of Samara Lubelski and Hall of Fame, and a good rainy day companion to the Seth Thomas LP Cudighi put out a year or two ago. Nees seems to have the right feel, the right intuition to make affecting, meaningful songs. My intuition says she’s just getting started and she’s got even better songs inside of her. I hope to hear them one day.

Taylor Daukas - Long Gone [Moone] 

Lately, I have been enjoying this fantastic little tape Long Gone from Taylor Daukas who has joined up with the Moone records crew in the deserts of the Southwest. The first side is strong, with two little gems plus an instrumental composed by producers Micah Dailey and Janie Dailey. “Pearl” and “Believing” pair up nicely, and I’d have been plenty satisfied if this were simply a cassingle. Each track features a languidly effective vocal melody that covertly digs its hooks right in. Daukas’s voice is the anchor and the arrangements sway around her forming a warm halo. “Pearl” features an oblique percussive stamp, almost sounds like a loop of someone knocking on the door but Daukas wades into even stranger territory later on. The title track marks the most peculiar arrangement on the tape, but it’s also the most exciting (though the oceanic trumpet on “False Door” is quite nice as well). Multi-tracked vocals, insistent not-quite-in-sync synths, field recordings of footsteps or the like, scatterbrained guitar plucks. You’re adrift in a swirl of instability but once again, Daukas’s voice is the guiding light, and when she tells you to “hold my hand” you reach for it without a second thought. 

Dimitriam - Amphora [Moone]
Homebrewed, hand dubbed, hand painted. Takes me back to the good old days of the cassette underground. Amphora, the latest from Tucson-based Dimitriam (also available on CD via Moone Records), is exceedingly easy on these skewed ears. If you tell me something was recorded on a 4-track, I’m already halfway in the bag, but Dimitriam can write some great songs too. The jaunty classicist pop romp, “Rug”, and the lightly smoldering epic, “Ceiling”, immediately stand out. Nestled among the proper songs are accomplished instrumental interludes. The goofily sloshed “QVC” carries with it an underpinning of dread due to a churning, ominous rhythm section. “Not Here” is a quality parody/tribute to early 80s UK synth pop. Same could be said for “Maniac” as it kneels at the home taper altar of Daniel Johnston instead. Amphora’s consistent in its inconsistency; each track, whether a hook-laden tune or backward tape experiment, is imbued with the same good natured warmth. What more do you want out of a cassette?

FMF - Future Moss Fortress [Drongo Tapes] 

Alright, so my reference point for FMF (possibly standing for “Future Moss Fortress”, or perhaps the titles of their releases fill in the blanks a new way each time, a la D. Yellow Swans and C.C.T.V.) is a band they don’t necessarily sound that much like. That band is Black Dice, but let me explain. The catch here is that Black Dice’s sound changed every couple years, and the impressive and galvanizing stunt that FMF pull off is that they sound like every piece of Black Dice vinyl melted down and repressed into one. From the early days of avant-hardcore ten second blasts of screams and static to Black Dice’s dance floor flirtations and latter day exploits into the aural version of squiggle vision. FMF sound like all that and more, and all at once. Speaking of Black ____ bands, side B’s killer drum solo shenanigans and squirting synth blurps gave intense seizure flashes of Black Pus, albeit thoroughly chopped and liquified in a Cuisinart from an estate sale down the street. Wisely, Future Moss Fortress is edited down to a dense, kinetic, cranial collapsing 16 minute carnival ride you will want to hop on again. Reserve that fast pass. 

Patois Counselors - Enough: One Night at the Daisy Chain [Ever/Never] 

A bit of an unusual release, but a welcome one. This isn’t a live record as there’s no audience, but it’s kinda like a live record with no audience. Perhaps you could say this is the highest quality practice tape ever released. Even though they’ve got a new LP on the horizon, Patois Counselors, the hardest working band in rock & roll, decided they might as well pop into the The Daisy Chain in NYC for one night of wild passion. They run through a set of old favorites from their prior two LPs but also drop a hearty helping of new songs too. It’s the latter that had my ears curling. By my count, we get four cuts from the first LP Proper Release. and one from The Optimal Seat, thankfully it’s “The Galvanizer” (my desert island Counselors pick, if the Lord scorned me enough to place me on a deserted island but loved me enough to provide me with a stereo). That means that over half the songs here are new (didn’t recognize any from the first 7” either). Not sure if they’re working them out for the next LP or just part of the live set, but it’s enticing to get a look at them nevertheless.

The opener was judiciously selected as “Serious Rider” has everything you want in a Counselors tune, including a soaring chorus (Counselors’ style). Definitely my favorite of the new crop. “Just Made Scarce” is an exciting new tune with great unexpected melodies and a kind of new wave-in-a-car-wreck aesthetic. I’m hoping there’s a forthcoming fully produced album version, and wondering how many Durans will be injured during the making of it. I’m enjoying the group’s newfound flair for drama as well. The excellent “Fountain of UHF” is chock full of noirish intrigue and the sextet turns into power balladeers on the memorable “Bands I Barely Spoke With”. I don’t know if any of the versions of the older tunes will replace the album versions in fans’ hearts but it’s still a delight to hear alternate takes, the rollicking and rocked up rendition of “Modern Station” is particularly fun. The one exception is “Get Excitement” which sounds especially unhinged, more so than the album track. Patois Counselors is one of the best bands we’ve got right now and it’s been four long years since their last record, so savor this cassette and get excitement that a new LP shall be bestowed before long.