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dustedmagazine · 4 days ago

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Dust Volume 10, Number 11

Photo of Alan Licht by Stu Lax

One of the oddest, most disturbing developments in recent years is the devaluation of expertise. If a souped up auto complete program can write a screenplay, who needs writers? If scientific guidelines about how to stave off a plague make us angry or confused, who wants them? Anybody can be anything, given enough cash in their pockets, thought, evidence and fact be damned. So, it is somewhat unfashionable that Dusted continues to seek out artists who are good at what they do, whether they are conservatory trained or DIY, steeped in historical tradition or trying something new. Our monthly Dust highlights another batch of them. Bill Meyer, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers and Bryon Hayes contributed.

John Butcher / Florian Stoffner / Chris Corsano — The Glass Changes Shape (Relative Pitch)

This autumn, English saxophonist John Butcher celebrated his 70th birthday. For the occasion his fellow musicians donned t-shirts proclaiming, “You can only trust yourself and the first ∞ John Butcher albums.” Yes, he puts out quite a few, and no, I’m not up to date. The completist’s task is even more daunting when one considers just how much music is packed into each of the nine improvisations on this concert recording, his second with guitarist Florian Stoffner and percussionist Chris Corsano. Timbres, volumes and modes of attack change from second to second, living up the album’s title; not even the music’s form I fixed. No one’s resting on laurels here. Corsano plays with rare spaciousness, and Butcher often seems to be playing up the contrasts between his horns’ tonal fluidity and the jagged edges of Stoffner’s contribution. Pardon the paradox, but each track is a subdivision of ∞, and there’s no end to the time you could spend getting profitably lost in one.

Bill Meyer

Cybotron — Parallel Shift (Tresor)

in 2019, legendary Detroit producer Juan Atkins rebooted his 1980s electro project Cybotron with Laurens van Oswald (nephew of Basic Channel founder Moritz) and Tameko Williams (Detroit In Effect). Atkins takes the technological matrices of his hometown’s now largely defunct manufacturing plants and Kraftwerk’s “Autobahn” and twists them through an afro-futurist wormhole. The trio’s latest 12” single “Parallel Shift” sets Atkins’ robotic vocals and lockstep machine beats against melodic synths and warm bass tones. As Atkins insists on a “parallel shift”, smuggled elements of Clintonesque funk and drifting reverie suggest subversion of strictly linear time. The B-side “Earth” is a more straightforward piece of electro with the emphasis on syncopation. The track flickers with sci-fi synths as Atkins posits human rhythms as a form of cosmic consciousness. Volume up and eyes closed, you will be transported.

Andrew Forell

Dean Drouillard — Mirrors and Ghosts (self-released)

This instrumental solo album by Canadian guitarist Dean Drouillard is a series of hazy noir scenes. At its brightest and most melodic, as in “Portland” and “Gorgasuke,” it’s reminiscent of the vivid, playful miniatures of Opsvik & Jennings’s A Dream I Used to Remember. Elsewhere, the album is decidedly more atmospheric and ambient, akin to the widescreen explorations of Daniel Lanois’s Flesh and Machine. The album’s largely introspective nature is no surprise when you learn Drouillard played and recorded all the instruments himself. His guitar playing in particular is evocative and tastefully restrained. At once intimate and widescreen, Mirrors and Ghosts feels both eerily melancholic and gently uplifting.

Tim Clarke

Fievel Is Glauque — Rong Weicknes (Fat Possum)

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Though Fievel Is Glauque are technically a duo — songwriters Zach Phillips (Blanche Blanche Blanche) and Ma Clements on keys and vocals, respectively — for new album Rong Weickes they assembled a crack team of six other players. Musicians on drums, bass, electric guitar, woodwinds and brass flesh out a dizzyingly complex and gratifyingly daft soundworld. Think 1970s prog-folk; think Napoleon Murphy Brock–era Frank Zappa; think Julia Holter spiraling down a jazz-fusion black hole. Rong Weicknes is a LOT. Tellingly, many of the album’s most accessible songs, including singles “As Above So Below” and “Love Weapon,” plus the beautiful and relatively calm “Toute Suite,” arrive early in the track list. Opener “Hover” is perhaps the best example of the band’s bonkers “live in triplicate” working method, in which multiple takes are stacked one on top of another, then chiseled down to reach a final mix. It’s chaotic, like multiple candy-colored Escher staircases spiraling off in different directions at once. In this realm of music-making, too much is never enough, and the line between virtuosic brilliance and over-the-top absurdity bends and blurs. Given the chaos is cumulative, listening to the album from front to back tends to result in ear fatigue during the second half, no matter how many brave attempts it takes to tackle it all in one go.

Tim Clarke

Helena Hauff — Multiplying My Absurdities (Tresor)

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Hamburg DJ and producer Helena Hauff’s debut EP for Tresor is three tracks of full-on throwback acid trance. Expertly structured over 22 minutes of build, crescendo and release, Hauff combines thumping beats and bass tones with a detached darkwave cool and a healthy smear of analogue soot. Think Roland drum machines & 303 bass, squelching synths, arpeggio runs and all nature of odd grimy ghosts grumbling in the machines. Hauff reaches her apotheosis on “Punks in the Gym”, named for an Australian rock climb known as the hardest in the world (and now closed as an Indigenous Heritage site). It starts hard, with the bass in the red zone and the drums not far behind, and arpeggiated synths screaming like a drill sergeant. The plateaus, when they come, are mere toeholds for the next ascent. It’s a relentless, punishing piece. And when, near the end, Hauff drops everything but the kickdrum, it’s like watching the sun rise at an outdoor rave to, hearing nothing but your beating heart.

Andrew Forell

Rafael Anton Irisarri — Façadisms

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Rafael Anton Irisarri creates music with the grandeur of a vast, wasted landscape. He brings his experience as a mastering engineer to bear on all his recordings, rendering them dense and immersive, stacked high with thick waves of guitar and synthesizer tone. Façadisms is no exception and features two highlights. “Control Your Soul’s Desire For Freedom” features searing cello from Julia Kent and angelic vocals by Hannah Elizabeth Cox, and “Forever Ago is Now” features string arrangements from T.R. Jordan, which carry the album’s most anthemic chord progression. Façadisms’ blasted textures are never less than compelling, but these tracks are twin peaks within the record’s glowering sonic geography.

Tim Clarke

Charlotte Jacobs — Atlas (New Amsterdam)

Charlotte Jacobs’s songs are a little shy. They lurk in corners and grow up from cracks. They venture fluidly out of empty space, eddying and cascading through echoing caverns, with just a little glitch beat or a surge of synth tones to ground them. Jacobs is a conservatory Belgian composer and singer here making her first solo album. Her voice comes in breathy flutters, a little like Mirah at her most acoustic and spare, but she hedges that fragile bloom in masses of digital sound. A devotee of Ableton, she makes the synth sound like all kinds of instruments, a quacking oboe in “Celeste,” a ghostly choir in CYTMH.” Records seldom sound simultaneously this bare and this layered. There are many elements in play, but all scrubbed clean and hemmed in by silence.

Jennifer Kelly

Alan Licht — Havens (VDSQ)

With Havens, Alan Licht flips the attack-decay-sustain-release envelope of the guitar on its head, folding notes and chords over each other in waves. He does this with a heft to his tone, so that chord progressions become waterfalls and melodies emerge like vine-like shoots, growing in many directions simultaneously. Licht’s songs mesmerize with repetition, but the tones resonate such that they fold back on themselves, creating entirely new patterns for us to discern. The cover art reflects his steel string sorcery, as a dull-colored house surrounded by twilit swirling clouds emits beams of red, yellow, and orange light from its many orifices. A variety of energy levels and frequencies are represented here, and they reveal themselves in surprising ways. Throughout his career, Licht has straddled the worlds of indie rock and the avant-garde, and Havens tugs at both sides, creating a new universe entirely: one where resonance rules over everything else.

Bryon Hayes

Longobardi + Cecchitelli — Maloviento (LINE)

Italian sound artists Ernesto Longobardi and Demetrio Cecchitelli create minimalist environmental works built from droning sub-oscillations that emerge from a haze of white noise. The four pieces on Maloviento, titled by duration, are arctic. Slow, evocative of shifting ice and wind swirling across bleak landscapes.. 14’24” is frigid amalgam of staticky cracks and sheets of white noise that rise and fall with increasing intensity. The duo intersperses these with sounds of dripping stalactites and pings of some distant beacon signaling into the abyss. It immerses the listener in an alien and alienating environment in which you find yourself clinging to these noises as the only way to get your bearing. 21’18” is slightly kinder. More recognizably human sounds emerge. Breath labored by cold, a trudge of footsteps and a muttering voice culminating in the introduction of a flute. Tentative at first, it gathers strength and warmth before being absorbed into the ice. Riveting stuff.

Andrew Forell

Man/Woman/Chainsaw — Eazy Peazy (Fat Possum)

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Young London sextet Man/Woman/Chainsaw emerged from the scene that includes bands like Black Midi and Black Country, New Road with whom they share a similar omnivorous musical DNA. Vocalists, bassist Vera Leppanen and guitarist Billy Ward have been playing together since they were 14. Now approaching 20, and joined by contemporaries Emmie-Mae Avery on keys, violinist, Clio Harwood violin, Ben Holmes on guitar and drummer Lola Waterworth, M/W/C play punk infused theatrical rock, not quite as knotty as their near contemporaries, but fully embracing the chaotic energy of musicians pushing themselves to fit all their ideas into songs that dance delicate and furious. The acutely observed kitchen sink dramas of “The Boss” and “Sports Day” burst from the speakers, withering in word, and balanced by Harwood’s sawing violin and Avery’s delicate keys. Leppanen a powerhouse on the former, Ward all snarling self-deprecation on the latter. In contrast “Grow A Tongue In Time” is almost dainty with its curlicue of violin, bass, and keys tempered by Leppanen’s rasp that speaks of a desperate frustration echoed in the washes of cymbals that swarm towards the end. A band with space to grow and one to watch out for.

Andrew Forell

The Modern Folk — Primitive Future III (Practice)

This expansive collection spans 20 songs and nearly as many years for the folk centric but ambi-curious guitarist Joshua Moss (who, full disclosure, recently started writing for Dusted). His music here takes many forms, from the blues rock chug of “Shiver Shaker,” which could pass for an alternate universe outtake from Jon Spencer’s Heavy Trash to the cosmic twang of “Hippy Sandwich,” running closer to Ripley Johnson’s Rose City Band or the Heavy Lidders or whatever Matt Valentine is doing this week. There’s room, too, for lucid, radiant blues-folk picking, twined with bowing in “Braided Channels” or abetted in shimmery gossamer by Jen Powers on dulcimer on “You’ll Have That,” or left to strike out unadorned on luminous (and aptly titled) “Subdued.” Some artists try something different to prove they can. Moss lets the change grow out of old roots, supple, green and lovely. One other item of note: all proceeds are earmarked for hurricane relief.

Jennifer Kelly

Paprika — S/T (Iron Lung)

Paprika had already released the excellent, caustic Let’s Kill Punk LP this year, so this new EP is an unexpected November surprise. Are you thankful? It’s pungent and nasty stuff — Paprika sounds like the grittiest elements of NYC punk rawk, c 1976, partying with the hepped-up hardcore of Government Issue or Dirty Rotten EP-period DRI. If that sounds like fun, it sort of is, if you can listen past the nihilistic sentiments expressed in tunes like “Catatonic Pisser” and “Wasting Time.” This reviewer especially likes the self-lacerating qualities of “Supply Chain Wallet,” which explores the ways in which even filthy, greasy punks have a variety of fashion sense, implicating them in capital’s machinery. The band is more direct: “I’m chained to my wallet / Don’t you fuckers know? / Money is dirt.” Word.

Jonathan Shaw

Rock Candy — Swimming In (Carbon)

Rock Candy is Krysi Battalene (Mountain Movers, Headroom) and Emily Robb. Both are guitarists of just renown who, if they decided to open up an optical shop, would specialize in third-eyewear. Together, they refrain from six-string calisthenics in order to focus on nuanced expressions of motion. “Swimming In” is all about drift, albeit with enough surface tension for a stuttering guitar figure to loom over the undulating organ-scape. “Across A Mirage” sets slide vs. reverb, each fighting for footage on a mechanical Clydesdale beat. The cost of vinyl being what it is, some folks might question the point of picking up singles. This year, Rock Candy is the angle that dispels such faithless notions.

Bill Meyer

Sif — Aegis of the Hollowed King (self released)

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If you were going to make solo instrumental doom metal about video games, Dark Souls is certainly one of the few that feels like it actually fits. What makes the second LP from New Orleans-based Sif work as well as it does, though, is how much Aegis of the Hollowed King engages with what’s actually compelling about the FromSoftware series beyond any surface level trappings of swords, monsters and boss fights. Here focusing on what even they admit is an “understandably maligned masterpiece,” Dark Souls II, these four tracks don’t try to overwrite the game’s fantastic actual soundtrack (by Motoi Sakuraba and Yuka Kitamura). Instead they invoke how much of the experience of painstakingly making your way across Drangleic is suffused with melancholy horror (yes, occasionally leavened with moments of brutally-won success). That atmosphere has been translated into a doom metal idiom, but that just means even the most elegiac elements here continue to crush.

Ian Mathers

Sulida — Utos (Clean Feed)

The phrase “good old-fashioned free jazz” could be applied to this Norwegian trio’s album, no disrespect intended and none dealt. Marthe Lea’s gruff tenor sax balances the unbridled emotion and considered poise of Ayler and Tchicai, and Jon Rune Strøm and Dag Erik Knedal Anderson negotiate points of structure vs. flow in ways that would do Hopkins and McCall proud. There are also moments that bring to mind Don Cherry if he had given full allegiance to the Swedish woods instead of the world. And yet, the character of each musician shines through, so that this music feels alive rather than merely reanimated. Ready to rumble by unfailingly lyrical, Utos is a friend in unfriendly times.

Bill Meyer

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dustedmagazine · 5 months ago

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Listening Post: Gastr Del Sol

Photo by James Crump

Gastr Del Sol was the convergence of two individuals who had not spent their youths like anyone else and were on their way to lives quite unlike most lives. Between 1991 and 1998 David Grubbs and Jim O’Rourke made a sequence of records that simultaneously pointed out what a lot of music listeners were missing and where music might go next if it was really interested in being interesting. Grubbs came from Louisville, Kentucky’s hardcore scene; he played in Squirrel Bait while he was in high school, and took Bastro with him to college. Jim O’Rourke grew up tracking down recordings from the far reaches of every fringe and then setting about making his own place within each method he learned. Before he was out of college, he’d already made connections with Henry Kaiser, Derek Bailey and the folks at Ina GRM. Each was a guy who knew what the other did not, and their collaboration pushed both to make music that they would never make again with anyone else.

Gastr Del Sol began when Grubbs decided to let Bastro get quiet, and made one LP before O’Rourke came aboard. Their first album together, Crookt, Crackt, Or Fly, was assembled from miniaturized poetry, elongated post-punk riffs, frozen improvisation and fluid, texturally-focused compositions. Their last, Camofleur, is a droll pop statement completed just weeks prior to the collapse of the duo’s relationship. The acrimony between them took a couple of decades to die down, but around the same time that they buried the hatchet, a live recording of their final concert surfaced. We Have Dozens Of Titles shuffles together that performance plus every compilation, single, or EP track that Gastr Del Sol released outside their core Drag City discography.

Intro by Bill Meyer

Jonathan Shaw: I have admired Gastr del Sol from a sort of distance. I like “At Night and At Night,” from the terrific Hey Drag Citycomp; I know Upgrade & Afterlife quite well and dearly love “Dry Bones in the Valley...”, the Fahey cover collab with Tony Conrad. The first song on this new-ish record sidles in alongside those wooden textures, but is a more anxious affair. I like that it never quite boils over or takes its propulsive energies to catharsis. It’s sort of a complement to the conversation with the French kid blowing up firecrackers at the track’s close: it can’t quite move forward, in spite of all of the things that want it to.

That’s also a handy metaphor for my relationship to the music. When I have listened to Crookt, Cracked..., I get the sense that these are really, really smart folks, doing some smart stuff, but I haven’t quite connected with and moved into the sounds. They can be forbiddingly remote. So, I am glad for this record, and its invitation to revisit the band’s trajectory.

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Bill Meyer: Each record is so different that I can easily see someone liking one and not likening others, and if you held a gun to my head, Upgrade & Afterlife is the one I would name as my favorite. Which makes it all the more interesting that this collection spans their existence from O’Rourke’s first presence (the Teenbeat single — and it’s pretty amazing that they ended up on that label) to the very last concert (that trip is probably when the encounter with the Francophone child occurred, since the concert was in Quebec).

By virtue of its length and timespan, We Have Dozens Of Titles shows more sides of Gastr Del Sol than any other record.

Bryon Hayes: I think that’s one of the band’s traits that I find appealing, that their sound and approach shifted from record to record. “At Night and At Night” was my introduction to the band, and it also seems to encapsulate multiple faces of Gastr Del Sol in a single track: a drone intro, followed by a guitar/poetry passage, and then a dollop of minimalism accompanied by backwards cymbal splashes. I bought Hey Drag City for Pavement, Silver Jews, and Smog but was introduced to some new and intriguing sounds across the whole of the comp. That track, and Gastr Del Sol as a whole, always felt like a riddle or a logic puzzle to me, albeit one that continuously changed, so it wasn’t possible to “solve” it. But I actually like that fact: the thrill of the act of investigating is pure enjoyment itself.

I never did get to experience Gastr Del Sol in a live setting, so those tracks on We Have Dozens of Titles are particularly revelatory for me. I like the more stripped-down setting of “The Seasons Reverse,” for example. Maybe even more than the version on Camofleur. I’d also bet that the field recording of the kids came from Victoriaville. The town is far enough into Quebec that it’s likely there was a language barrier between O’Rourke and the local youth at the time. Also, the drawn-out version of “Blues Subtitled No Sense of Wonder” feels much fuller and richer in the live setting than it does on Camofleur. I’m not saying I dislike that album, but I too would pick Upgrade & Afterlife as my favorite...

Bill Meyer: Because I lived in the same town as Gastr Del Sol, I was fortunate to see them a lot. The concerts were pretty different from one another, and didn’t always sound much like the most recently released record. When they played with John McEntire, things could be more rock-ish, and I have one fond memory of them getting pretty wild with the feedback. Afterwards O’Rourke seemed embarrassed, like he’d lost control and done the wrong thing. There was room for spontaneity, but they were not an improv act. In 1997 they did lock into the two guys with two acoustic guitars thing for a while, probably because they had a fair number of out-of-town gigs in their later years; they didn’t necessarily want to lug a lot of gear around.

Another aspect of living in the same town with them was seeing the other things they had going. O’Rourke could often be seen accompanying someone whose work he championed (ex: Rafael Toral), and they both played with Red Krayola (although O’Rourke bailed for a while and Grubbs kept going), Edith Frost, and Arnold Dreyblatt.

Jonathan Shaw: Never saw the band, and the live material on this comp is what’s impressing me most. Given my proclivities toward their work with acoustic guitars, I am most compelled by “Onion Orange,” which works a space between gentle and tense to very satisfying effect. The repetitive sequence of notes in that initial six-or-so minutes is really engaging; it invites anticipation, flirts with letting that become apprehension. I can imagine that would be even more powerful in a real room, with the players really making the noises in front of you. But even here, via the mp3 I am playing on a device, it’s strong stuff.

Bill Meyer: I still need to a-b that with the original on Grubbs’ solo album.

That album, Banana Cabbage, Potato Lettuce, Onion Orange, seems not to be on Bandcamp, and Table of the Elements is long defunct. I’ll have to pull out my CD and play it. On the original edition, Grubbs plays everything, but O’Rourke recorded two of the album’s three tracks. I remember it being very still, a Grubbs take on Morton Feldman. What you hear in this live performance, Jonathan, is probably what makes me think I like this new version better than the original. There’s a management of tension that probably comes from two people playing it together in real time.

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The way that We Have Dozens Of Titles is sequenced, with live tracks littered throughout the collection, makes it easy to forget that we’re hearing a complete set here.

Ian Mathers: There’s a relatively well-known tweet (for those of us that are too online, at least) where a guy who’s only ever seen one movie sees a second and immediately compares it to his only experience. As someone who’s never heard Gastr del Sol before (although they’ve lingered somewhere on my impossibly long “get to this someday” list) and only really knows Jim O’Rourke’s work via his Bad Timing album, I had my own “Getting a lot of ‘Boss Baby’ vibes from this...” moment playing the opening live version of “The Seasons Reverse.” The guitar playing there immediately put me in mind of Bad Timing, which isn’t a bad thing! I was slightly relieved when this compilation pretty immediately shows off different aspects of his and Grubbs’ sound, even in the other live tracks.

And while I did enjoy all of We Have Dozens of Titles, enough so that I’m wondering based on the comments here which of their albums I should check out next, the live tracks do feel like a cut above everything else. I’m probably going to try listening to just them, and while I respect the choice to scatter them throughout this release despite being one show (do we have any idea if they preserved the order of the setlist, or jumbled that up as well as splitting them up?) there is a part of me that wishes it was a separate release. Which is kind of silly, I know — absolutely nothing is stopping me from just playing the live stuff whenever I want, and I’m very glad to have the rest of the material here. My first question for those more knowledgeable: is the album version of “Blues Subtitled No Sense of Wonder” as amazing as the live one here, and should I make that my next stop?

Bill Meyer: If you like the live version of “Blues Subtitled No Sense of Wonder,” you definitely need to check out the studio version. For that reason, I’d point you to Camofleur and then suggest that you work your way backwards through the catalog.

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Bryon Hayes: The album version has beautiful vocal harmonies with lyrics that are dryly humorous; the title of the box set is derived from them, actually. The music on the box set version feels fuller and louder than that on the album, the electronics bolder and noisier, accompanied by rich organ tones. Also, that interlude of shouted movie dialogue (or whatever it is), is not in the Camofleur version. Both are appealing, but I enjoy the live version slightly more. If Grubbs sang on the live version, it might be the clear winner for me.

Ian Mathers: Interesting, thanks for the tips! If I’m remembering correctly, there’s no vocals on this collection for at least a while, and I was slightly nonplussed when they came in; not bad, certainly, but it felt slightly out of place with the music. (I was working while listening, which might be the culprit there.) I’ll be interested to A/B the two versions and see what I think.

Bill Meyer: I just drove past the Lyon & Healy building at Lake and Ogden, which prompts the question — what do you make of “The Harp Factory On Lake Street”?

Jonathan Shaw: I sort of like it when there are vocals — in part because of the poetic nature of what’s sung (see “Rebecca Sylvester” on Upgrade & Afterlife), in part because it feels grounding in musical contexts that frequently get very abstract.

Bill Meyer: I like the way you frame that, Jonathan. Grubbs’ words do have a way of anchoring part of the music, bringing a sonic fixedness that contrasts with the music around them, but also introducing an uncertainty of their own because of their sometimes-oblique content.

Roz Milner: I’ve just been lurking this thread. I’m not familiar with this group, although I do like what little Jim O’Rourke’s music I’ve heard (Bad Timing, Happy Days). Any recommendations on where to start with them?

Tim Clarke: I’d start with Camoufleur, which is easily their most accessible album. I have a bit of an uneasy relationship with Gastr Del Sol. I got into them soon after I became obsessed with Jim O’Rourke’s Eureka, but it was quite a shift in tone from that album. I do enjoy Camoufleur a lot, and the album versions of “The Seasons Reverse” and “Blues Subtitled No Sense of Wonder” are, in my opinion, far superior to the live versions on We Have Dozens of Titles.

Gastr Del Sol are quintessentially experimental, in that much of their music sounds so open-ended, as though O’Rourke and Grubbs are constantly wondering what x would sound like played at the same time as y, whether it’s an open, suspended acoustic guitar voicing alongside a sour synthesizer drone, or some piano with some field recordings or samples. Upgrade & Afterlife actually freaks me out! The first time I listened to it after buying it from Rough Trade in London, I couldn’t venture past the opening track as a massive gnarly insect flew in through my open window while I was listening to it on a spring evening. It scared me so much I don’t think I’ve revisited the album since. There are moments on We Have Dozens of Titles that are truly magical, so I think I’ll have to get over my fear and revisit Upgrade & Afterlife after all this time.

Christian Carey: The timing of this release is interesting. David Grubbs was just appointed Distinguished University Professor by CUNY, the highest faculty distinction possible. In addition, he was just awarded the Berlin Prize, and will be in residence there next year. Wonder if the awards might have helped to fund the recording project.

Jonathan Shaw: Distinguished Prof at CUNY — pretty swell. Makes sense. Some of Gastr del Sol’s headiest stuff has the feel of the “experimental,” and in ways that engage the connotations of knowledge and concept in that term (which often gets used lightly and lazily, IMHO). That might have something to do with why I like the live tracks so much. There’s an organic quality to them. Still thorny and challenging music, like the ebbs and flows that make “Dictionary of Handwriting” disorienting and strange. But it’s happening. It’s made, not just thought or assembled.

Jennifer Kelly: Once again, not super immersed in this band, though I had a copy of Crookt, Crackt or Fly at one time, which I can’t find and don’t remember very well, though I’m listening to it on YouTube right now, and the combination of Grubbs’ wandering vocals and aggressive, stabbing guitars seems familiar-ish. So, coming to this a bit cold, though I’ve enjoyed Grubbs’ more recent work with Ryley Walker and Jan St. Werner — and there are definitely some common threads. Nonlinearity, an elastic sense of key and rhythm, a haunted room kind of aesthetic.

I found this track-by-track exposition at the Quietus, which I was trying to read as the songs came up and it’s quite good. I especially liked the paragraphs about “The Bells of St. Mary’s,” written for what sounds like a truly bizarre Christmas comp with Merzbow and Melt Banana on it. Gastr del Sol’s lone concession to the holiday form was sleigh bells, though Grubbs says the main reference was to “I Wanna Be Your Dog” not “Jinglebells.”

Anyway, you might enjoy this.

Tim Clarke: In addition to the Quietus piece, this recent podcast interview is also very enlightening in regard to the history of the band. A rare opportunity to hear Jim O’Rourke chat lightheartedly too.

Having spent more time with the album now, I realize that my listening gets derailed by a couple of Grubbs’ and O’Rourke’s tendencies with this music. The first is when Grubbs does a kind of scat singing that follows the spiky contours of the acoustic guitar parts. And the second is when they retreat into near silence.

Bill Meyer: Near-silence is an O’Rourke strategy to make sure that the volume is set high enough when you get to the loud part.

Christian Carey: I’m curious what connections to later projects people hear in the recording. As TJ mentioned, there are some mannerisms that seem to forecast avant moves by both Grubbs and O’Rourke, with greater assuredness in the idiom. The post-rock vibe is unmistakable, and I am finding the songs with connections to Tortoise et. al. to be the most compelling music-making here.

Bill Meyer: Re: similarities with Tortoise, it’s worth keeping in mind that John McEntire of Tortoise was also a member of Bastro and a key non-member contributor to Gastr Del Sol. Re: the term post-rock, I appreciate the irony that Gastr Del Sol was actually O’Rourke’s entree into rock following years of intense work in improvisation, musique concrete, etc. with people like Henry Kaiser, Eddie Prevost, Christoph Heemann and Illusion of Safety. It was his “I’m almost ready to rock" project.

Ian Mathers: Roz, if you still haven’t settled on a way to check out Gastr del Sol, I was in a similar position to you and honestly, I found this compilation a pretty welcoming (and broad-ranging) introduction! I haven’t moved on to checking out any of their albums yet, but I have played We Have Dozens of Titles a number of times, and while I’m still experiencing it more as a gestalt than I am picking out specific elements (so I’m not sure how I’d answer Christian’s question at the moment, for example), I find the time just slipping away when I do. I was reading Steven Thomas Erlewine’s newsletter recently where he was discussing this collection and he described Gastr del Sol as “music that changes the temperature of the room,” and I keep coming back to that as an apt description of what I’m experiencing.

Bryon Hayes: I read somewhere that Grubbs’ The Plain Where the Palace Stood is his solo album most similar to his work in Gastr Del Sol. I’m listening to that record now and it actually reminds me of the little Bastro that I’ve heard along with parts of The Serpentine Similar.

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Bill Meyer: Gastr Del Sol’s existence corresponded with Grubbs’ time at University of Chicago, where he was getting his PhD. I believe it was in poetry, and the words he wrote for the band’s songs reflect that study.

Christian Carey: I've been having fun poring over David Grubbs’ trilogy of books and guessing which stories might be about Gastr del Sol. He's excellent at being covert, but I would be surprised if they weren't featured in some of his writing.

#dusted magazine #listeningpost #gastr del sol #jim o'rourke #david grubbs #we have dozens of titles #drag city #bill meyer #jonathan shaw #bryon hayes #ian mathers #roz milner #tim clarke #christian carey #jennifer kelly

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