SeaBuckThorn – In Nightfall 8.0

                SeaBuckThorn is dark. How dark? Well, let’s say Andy Cartwright must write this at night as there’s hardly any light allowed. Listening to this, I’d consider him a practitioner of John Fahey’s concept called “American Primitivism” despite his English roots. John Fahey’s idea behind this phrase was acoustic guitar music would meld together neo-classical with country blues fingerpicking. “In Nightfall” embodies his concept perfectly. 

                We begin with the tactile “Address the Night”. There’s no adornment on here. No other guitar. Other songs possess a little background with an electric guitar, violin, or piano. Most of the time it is a one man show, with Andy playing a lonely tune. “Carrier” is a favorite of mine. Around the one minute mark I’m reminded of Nick Drake’s playing style, sparse, simple, and effective. Hearing the small rhythm emerge makes me extremely happy. “The River Answered” sounds hypnotic. Little flourishes of sound in the background give me the sense of a giant space. 

                At times the sound is nearly silent. “Gone Estray, Being Circled” may be the quietest offering on here. Only occasionally does the volume increase to a near-audible amount. I like how well the name goes with it. An Estray is an animal found wandering or lost. Witnessing it being circled would be much like the effect I hear on this song: quiet, tense, and bleak.

                I liked this album quite a bit. For preparation I had to wait until I could find a quiet enough place. As this is a dark and soft-spoken album, it is best to listen to at night. This is a vivid, unusual album. Not too many artists are interested in this sound right now. Thankfully SeaBuckThorn managed call this niche his own.

Record Store Day – This Saturday, April 16th

                Back in 2008, to capture the vinyl junkie’s small fragile heart a couple of record store owners came together. Profits were down at their shoeboxes adjacent to a Kinko’s or FedEx. They needed to create a day which would be guaranteed to have music lovers of the vinyl persuasion come on in and purchase delectable vinyl. In order for the plan to be a success, they would need a little help from the outside. 

                Now we have been granted the day dedicated to record stores, April 16^th. It is no mistake that it isn’t far from 4/20, record store owners know their audiences. They know those kids are going to need their late 70s dub reggae records a few days before they hit the supermarket for stoner food. Besides, that audience usually is made up of those who receive subsidies from their parents as they are generally in undergrad. 

                Undergrads trying to show themselves as being sophisticated is only part I of the formula. Part II revolves around the older, vinyl-obsessed junkies. The ones who loved vinyl so much they moved out to the suburbs and had it as siding for their house. Older vinyl fans generally have the money necessary to indulge in a one-a-year splurge, whereas I’m cool with getting my music in digital form and carrying it around on a thing known as a “MP3 Player”. MP3 players give listeners the ease to carry around vast, perhaps unhealthy amounts of music without building upper body strength like vinyl record crates do. 

                Finally there are the collectors. Collectors are overwhelmed by the sheer amount of ‘limited editions’ that are on offer for this day. While you’d think collectors would be vinyl junkies, there are certain differences. Generally speaking, collectors are the ones who put this stuff up on Ebay for some unreasonable sum they know true lovers will pay. While this dark path has tempted me as it has countless music fans, I’ve resisted its siren call. Sure, it creates a steady source of income and John Fahey survived for a while selling obscure records, but it takes away the joy from the product itself. Instead, it treats music more as a commodity and less as a thing of enjoyment. 

                Perhaps the entire record store day takes the concept of commodity fetishizing to a whole new level. They reach people who normally would be immune to such blatant attempts to get more of things they may or may not need. Simply the joy of owning becomes more important than the sound. Getting that 7 of Radiohead or LCD Soundsytem or Regina Spektor (someone I’ve been told I’d like but have yet to get into) becomes a bigger goal than wondering if the music contained isn’t just a cheap ploy to get some quick money while appearing to have an alternative view on musical culture. Vinyl tends to sell best with the most popular bands anyway, as the initial production of the vinyl can get costly. So while you’d think your local great band would have vinyl, most of the time it is some dreadful band (Guns N’ Roses being one example) who sells most of the stuff. In the rare chance a great unknown band does have the funds, more power to them. But such an instance is somewhat rare. 

                I’d say this would create a conundrum for countless individuals. I’m not one of those individuals, vinyl records remain the last vestiges of musical snobbery I have not yet indulged in yet. Having so little space is a factor. Since I like to share what I listen to, I guess vinyl doesn’t really offer me the opportunity to convert others to this or that band. For that, I use an IPOD.

                Whatever your opinion, have a happy record store day! Perhaps I’ll see you at Other Music. .For I'm ambivalent about the day itself, record stores are great way to meet new people and discover new bands.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor

 

 

     After so many years of radio silence, they came roaring back at the Masonic Temple. I really missed them. For a longer while than I’m willing to admit, their music helped me along, pushing me forward. Even the sheer fact they existed for so long as a near-anonymous collective who played 20 minute plus long songs is short of incredible. What’s even more incredible is how all of their New York shows sold out in about 3.5 seconds.

    Naturally I was thrilled to see them live for the first time, having missed their concerts when they were together due to laziness and general forgetfulness. Their venue choice of a Temple felt additionally fitting. Seeing a packed audience, I wanted to take a picture of the place and send the photography to Glenn Branca, politely asking him to quit writing doom-laden Op-Ed pieces in the New York Times. I wanted him to see his idea of an orchestra of rock did not end with him, but continued on in the spirit of a bunch of Canadians, who removed even ego from their music.

    Eric Chenaux music didn’t express any form of humility. As I heard his opening set, I kept on trying to think of reasons why it wasn’t good. Could it be due to the acoustics? No, I heard him alright. Perhaps it might be a bit intimidating for anyone opening up for a giant band with a devout cult following, and here you are some guy they’ve never heard of, and you have to wow them. For a moment I thought this might be true. John Fahey did solo guitar work too but after most of his live shows his record sales decreased. But no, mostly Chenaux’s set suffered from obsessive self-indulgence. That struck me as particularly disappointing, as he had some extremely interesting sustained tones and drones underneath aimless guitar strumming. Had he simply stripped away the show-off nature of his playing, and instead focused on the quieter aspects of the sound, I might have enjoyed his set much more. When he ended, I think several people around me murmured “Thank God” through insincere applause.

    GYBE didn’t disappoint. As they started up, I wondered what might have convinced them to take such a long hiatus from doing shows. Sure, they had a million side projects (Fly Pan Am, A Silver Mount Zion, Set Fire to Flames, the list continues) which took up some time. Perhaps the sound they explored might have tired itself out. Their last album got universal praise, but their style got co-opted by countless less talented musicians. Criticism (lazy criticism) began circulating about their over-reliance on crescendos and constant builds.

    While crescendos were in place for their performance, they explored some of their quieter pieces as well. Moments in the performance it grew so quiet you heard only a single violin accompanied by four film projectors. The person responsible for the projectors did a fantastic job, it was really amazing the looping and gradual evolution. Seeing images match the music so well was doubly nice, as a band which adamantly refuses soundtrack work, it was good to see how carefully hand-picked the images were.

    “Lift Your Skinny Fists to Heaven” ended up being their major reference point. As “Sleep” started up, the crowd went wild. If a 20 plus minute song could ever be a hit, this was a hit. The Coney Island speech in the beginning is fantastic as well, and works on multiple levels in New York. Sleep ended. “Rockets Fall on Rocket Falls” came up. What made me so appreciative about this track was they played the whole thing. After the initial blast, it is a fairly quiet song. The build is extremely patient. It didn’t hurt that the projectors showed off certain flair as well, with an almost unsettling focus on pure garbage (literally). Most of the films seemed to be a way of focusing your eyes off of the band members, who played in darkness. Keep in mind as you see them that they aren’t all which meets the eye. I saw a few members playing even behind the doors of perception in a little nook beyond the line of vision from the stage.

    Thankfully they are going to be around doing show for the next two months. Perhaps the live setting might encourage them to re-start the project.

Ducktails – Ducktails III:Arcade Dynamics 7.9

                 Matthew Mondanile works many jobs: besides his better known gig in “Real Estate” he does these personal jams. Compared to his last album, this one feels a bit more organic, a bit less stuffed-sounding. Each song feels like it was exposed to excessive amounts of sunshine and joy. The carefree attitude doesn’t really leave at any point throughout the album. If you’re familiar with his previous stuff, this new material shouldn’t come as a major surprise.

                “In the Swing” sounds like a jaunt through a quaint seaside neighborhood. Most of the songs elicit similar reactions from me. Nostalgia is Matt’s main draw here, but I think his work is more interesting than a lot of his hypnagogic peers. For one, he infuses a great deal of soul. His recording process may be lo-fi, but it doesn’t sacrifice the quality of the song itself, like others enjoy doing.

                Songs like “Sprinter” (what I used to be in high school) and the fragile “Little Window” remind me that summer isn’t that far away with this stuff coming near. “Killing Vibe” is probably one of my favorites on here, besides the obvious EP songs from “Hamilton Road”. “Porch Projector” has the worst fidelity and the most otherworldly nature to it. At times it sounds like guitar strumming being summoned from an alternative universe, one where John Fahey was famous and Garth Brooks starved to death. It is a perfect closer.

                I’m glad this came out in the dead middle of winter. Ducktails will keep you warm until springtime.

Gastr Del Sol – Upgrade and Afterlife 8.4

Gastr Del Sol counts as among one of Jim O’Rourke’s best projects. The ability and talent he showed to combine extremely difficult experimental tendencies mixed with occasional pop was brilliant. Lately he’s gone too much towards the “not sure if I’m doing this ironically or not” category. With Upgrade and Afterlife, he is very clearly serious on what he’s about to do.

According to the original concept, this was supposed to be their “pop” album. When you first hear the beginning of “Our Exquisite Replica of ‘Eternity’” you immediately realize that wasn’t followed at all. Consisting of sustained organ drones and random static noise, it explodes at the end into music coming from another dimension. 

“Rebecca Sylvester” is the probably the easiest song on here. Don’t worry, the lyrics aren’t normal, but there are less of the jarring effects you’ll encounter throughout the rest of the album. I think I scared someone as I listened to the beginning of “Hello Spiral” which is very loud static. This transforms into a normal kind of rock jam before tripping over itself at the end.

What the end offers makes up for any of the overly difficult passages. A rendition of John Fahey’s “Dry Bones in the Valley (I saw the Light)” shows the soul of the players, something they tried obscuring. It is a perfect ending. 

If you’re familiar with Jim O’Rourke’s more recent work, this will be a nice surprise. Gastr Del Sol had a lot of great albums, but this is probably their best.