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quarantineroulette · 4 years

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2020 Releases that I listened to more than once / stuck with me in some way.

Excuse my pessimism, but 2020 was a year in which finding solace in music was of little use to me. I also had less time than ever to listen to music. I spent the worst of the pandemic displaced and with limited internet access, then moved to another city and switched careers, two changes which I still haven’t fully comprehended. I also spent 98% of my free time feeling too anxious about the future as a whole to do any sort of listening, focused or passive.

Things eventually got settled enough that I could at least check out what various music publications were fussing about in their year-end round ups. Not the most ideal avenue for discovery, but this has been a hard, tiring year and, despite some very promising releases and trends, I still feel a bit hopeless. I can’t even really be bothered to do any sort of ranking or make things even with a “20 for 2020,” so instead here’s a summary of some music that stood out to me. I can promise there are at least 15 releases mentioned - you can do a “choose your own adventure” and rank them as you wish.

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Without a doubt, the only 2020 record that truly elevated me to a place where I stopped stressing out about things was Protomartyr’s Ultimate Success Today. These guys are by far my favorite band right now and their fifth album gave me so many new reasons to love them, from the propulsive “Michigan Hammers” and its stock footage masterpiece of a music video to elegant closer “Worm in Heaven.” Saxophonist Jemeel Moondoc, cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm and multi-instrumentalist Izaak Mills were deployed on most tracks and, rather than merely serving as a garnish for songs, their contributions added as much tension, heft, and brutal beauty as Protomartyr’s core members. Add in Half Waif’s Nandi Rose guesting on the Very Sad “June 21,” and you have one genuinely faultless release. In a similar vein, Algiers released their third and arguably strongest full-length, There is No Year, back in January and it served as a powerful, prescient (the title alone!) and just plain awesome reminder to keep fighting in even the darkest of times.

This year I occasionally found myself praying for disco and I’m pretty sure Doja Cat’s sorta Chic-inspired “Say So” was the song I listened to the most in 2020 (yes, shame on me for a million different reasons). But little did I know 2020 was such an abundant year for mirrorball-indebted releases. Kylie Minogue’s Disco was a given, but what especially thrilled me were Roisin Murphy’s Roisin Machine and Jessie Ware’s What’s Your Pleasure? Murphy’s outstanding “Murphy’s Law” especially sounds like a lost classic from the ‘70s, while Ware’s titular “What’s Your Pleasure” is as fitting a Donna Summer tribute as any you could come across in the past 40 or so years. Ware’s record became slightly less cool when I realized she’s a podcasting mom who is friends with Adele, but What’s Your Pleasure?’s irresistible procession of Great Pop Moments solidifies it as one release I’ll keep coming back to.

(Bonus: if you favor a no-wave / post-punk spin on disco, then look no further than Public Practice’s Gentle Grip).

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Ware and Murphy have been particularly prevalent on many of the major year-end lists, but I still carry a bit of skepticism about such things. Therefore, discussions such as this sub-Reddit (sorry) thread on regional picks has been useful in thinking outside the US and UK-favoring ranking systems (although there’s still a lot of anglo shit listed there as well). I’m hoping to listen to more releases from oft-overlooked countries thanks to some of these Redditors’ suggestions, although I’ve already spent a bit of time with Einsturzende Neubauten’s Alles in Allem and remain Team Blixa (if such a team exists). Despite my aforementioned trepidation, The Quietus’ list did compel me to check out the wonderfully somber offerings of Closed Circuits. This Portuguese artist describes himself as “Leonard Cohen being bothered by Coil,” and if that doesn’t entice you, I fear you may be a lost cause.

This year we moved to Philadelphia, which means...A lot of things, but relevant to this summary, we found ourselves driving past some provocative graffiti stating “Make America Nothing Again” numerous times. Eventually I put two and two together and gave Nothing’s The Great Dismal a listen. Having not expected much beyond the clever marketing, I was pleasantly wowed by the quartet’s moody post-shoegaze offerings. I can barely discern any of the lyrics, but on vibe alone, The Great Dismal perfectly captures the heavy despair that permeated 2020. Add in Korine’s gloom-pop The Night We Raise and I can confidently say that Philly’s music scene is in good hands.

I might have lied a bit at the start of this post - in saying I didn’t listen to music throughout 98% of the pandemic, I’m overlooking the many car rides spent revisiting Fontaines D.C.’s brilliant 2019 debut, Dogrel. While it didn’t impress me quite as much, this year’s A Hero’s Death was a mostly worthy successor, interspersing a few tranquil moments among the band’s more confrontational offerings. Not all of those moments worked for me, but these new directions were enticing enough for me to officially consider Fontaines a Band To Watch, if that’s still something people say. Oh yeah, and the video for the title tune slams.

Speaking of music videos, I don’t usually rely on this medium for discovering bands, but that changed this year with Dehd. The trio’s videos are vibrant, conceptually clever, and relentlessly fun. Thank goodness that the music lives up to Dehd’s visual knack, with Flower of Devotion at times recalling The Jesus and Mary Chain and Roy Orbison in equal measure (especially on the stunning “Letter”). Emily Kempf’s versatile singing reminds me of everyone from Jana Hunter of Lower Dens to Carla Bozulich of The Geraldine Fibbers, yet it’s still bracing enough that every word she sings sounds utterly gripping. Who knows when gigs will happen again, but Flower of Devotion��rocketed these folks to the top of my post-Covid gigging wishlist.

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Sparks is one act I can happily say I’ve seen numerous times. They are never ones to disappoint but, nearly 40 years into their career, the Mael brothers owe us nothing. Yet A Steady Drip, Drip, Drip is somehow an instant classic. It’s nothing short of astonishing that, at 75, Ron Mael can crank out a song that is equal parts insanely catchy, effortlessly humorous and deceptively sad, but he yet again nailed this trifecta with “Lawnmower,” to name but one. Russell Mael’s invincible vocals are in full effect throughout, particularly on the straight up lovely “Pacific Standard Time.” I would never even entertain the idea of using the term “pop / rock juggernaut,” but if it was regarding Sparks, I would at least not dispute it.

(PS, special shout out to another singular duo of relatives, Prima Primo, who this year released my favorite song about Madonna since Sparks’ very own Madge tune, featured on 1988′s Interior Design.)

Finally, this list would absolutely be incomplete if I didn’t give mention to Bob Dylan’s fabulous Rough and Rowdy Ways. More than ever, 2020 felt like a year rife with stupid decisions, stupid actions and praise for mediocrity. A return to form from perhaps the greatest lyricist of all time is something many of us probably didn’t know we needed, but boy am I thankful for it (not as thankful as I would be for a second stimulus check, but still - next best thing). Dylan also gave us the fun bonus of having Fiona Apple guest on the outstanding “Murder Most Foul,” and of course Apple’s own Fetch the Bolt Cutters both featured her dogs as percussion and further solidified her place in the socio-political songwriting canon. Maybe there is something to be said for music after all!

#year in review #best of 2020 #protomartyr #algiers #roisin murphy #jessie ware #einsturzende neubauten #closed circuits #nothing #korine #fontaines d.c.#dehd #sparks #prima primo #bob dylan #fiona apple

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dustedmagazine · 5 years

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Dust, Volume 5, Number 7

Cy Dune’s Seth Olinsky

It’s summer time finally, and who wants to be bothered with 3000-word essays on the obscure but worthy? Not us, we want shorter reviews for longer days. We’ve got cannonballs to do off lake piers, carbonized meat to ingest, cold brews to drink. So that we can get back to all that, we deliver a robust Dust with the usual mix of garage rockers, Chicago improv’ers, acoustic finger-pickers, up and comers and lately revived-ers. We hope you enjoy it, sitting out there on your deck or fire escape or stoop...and don’t forget the sun screen. Contributors this time include Andrew Forell, Ben Remsen, Justin Cober-Lake, Jennifer Kelly, Isaac Olson, Bill Meyer and Jonathan Shaw.

Martin Brandlmayr — Vive Les Fantômes (Thrill Jockey)

Austrian drummer/composer Martin Brandlmayr’s award winning radio opera Vive Les Fantômes (Long live the Ghosts) combines spoken word and jazz samples with experimental electronics and percussion to create a dialogue across time and genres between Brandlmayr and some of his influences including Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, Billie Holiday, Jacques Derrida and Hitchcock’s Vertigo. Snatches of live music - a trumpet tuning up, a piano run – emerge between Brandlmayr’s understated free drumming, subtle electronics and the occasional bracing burst of noise. Monk talks sound, Miles issues instructions, and Derrida answers the telephone to speak with an unheard interlocutor. Over an engaging 53 minutes samples repeat in various juxtapositions to create relationships and emphasize their mutability. The spectral voices of long gone cultural giants speak of human frailty and the strength of the creative act. Vive Les Fantômes poignantly addresses memory and mortality. The piece closes on Derrida speaking for the first time in English “OK, I’ll be very glad to meet you. Goodbye.” Et Fin.

Andrew Forell

Burial — Claustro/State Forest (Hyperdub)

Claustro / State Forest by Burial

William Bevan AKA Burial changed the face of electronica with the release of his eponymous debut album in 2006. His take on dubstep, jungle and ambient continues to influence producers, and his releases are highly anticipated. This first release since 2017 distills the elements that have enthralled and intrigued since the debut. A-side “Claustro” returns to Burial’s roots in jungle and rave. Vinyl crackle coats a four-to-the-floor shuffle and a vocal sample repeats in glorious swells of billowing, cloud-like sounds. It’s exhilarating albeit tinged with Burial’s signature yearning melancholy before it drops, dissolves into twinkling stars “Are you ready?” repeats and then “This song goes out to that boy.” before it kicks back in with an almost cheesy refrain “I got my eye on you, tonight.” which in turn fades back to crackle. “State Forest” is a completely different beast. A rich ambient narrative rich in atmospherics, found sounds and keening waves of synths creeping through a desolate landscape of shadow and dread. The funereal pace unfolds with miniscule details — broken twigs underfoot, drips of rain, quiet exhalations — then sudden silence. Burial places the listener in this environment, observant if not omnipotent or omnipresent, like the narrator of a classic Antinovel. Yet “State Forest” is not alienating or discursive. It shows rather than explains — a direct experience like a Beckett tale. It is his most effective piece of music since “Come Down to Us” and its obliqueness is the key to its power.

Andrew Forell

Cy Dune — Desert (Lightning)

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Akron/Family blended so many influences during their ten-year run that they avoided easy classification. With the collaborative nature of the group and its members switching instruments, it was hard to know what came from who, or whether the whole thing was just a bit of folky synergy. Then the band split up, and the years passed. Dana Janssen created Dana Buoy, an unexpected electropop duo more suited for clubs than for Akron/Family's wildernesses. Seth Olinsky, after a couple quick release years ago, emerges now as Cy Dune, with a sound much more in line with the Akron/Family aesthetic.

On Desert, Olinksy's songwriting and guitar playing provide the center of the album, but only to set up the weirdness that surrounds them. The bluesy stomp of “When You Pass Me” puts Cy Dune in the roots tradition, but the jazz influences remain strong enough that it's no surprise that bassist William Parker shows up. “Desert 2” offers chamber oddity, more a sketch than a song, but then “Desert 3” steps into the garage for some rock. Across this short album, Olinsky crams in a five-year hiatus's worth of ideas. The freak-folk of “It Is the Is” closes with some dissonance, a hint of a jazz, and a happy reminder that Cy Dune's desert archives are only beginning to open up.

Justin Cober-Lake

Angharad Davies / Rie Nakajima / Alice Purton — Dethick (Another Timbre)

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What is a score? Sometimes it is a series of staffs marked on lined paper. Sometimes it is a set of images, which may be followed according to varying degrees of specificity. Sometimes it mandates a piece of music down to the smallest detail, sometimes it offers suggestions, and sometimes it gets ignored. It’s common enough for improvisers to select partners based on their musical personalities rather than the instruments they play, so one might say that the selection is a compositional act. In this situation violinist Angharad Davies, cellist Alice Purton and sound artist Rie Nakajima (she plays kinetic devices and found objects) chose to play together for a couple days in a small church in Dethick, England. The choice to play together, the instruments they brought, the chapel’s accouterments and acoustics — that’s the score. The CD’s ten pieces sound like artifacts of a search for possibilities. How close to the language of chamber music, the shared vernacular of the two string players should they hew? How do things sound when you shake them? What does this organ sound like? What will these stone walls and stained glass windows do to the sounds? And what will one player do in the face of each other’s actions? Decisions in the face of puzzlement; that’s how these three women played this score.

Bill Meyer

Dehd — Water

Water by DEHD

Dehd’s Water is spare and sharp, with ambling jangles of prickly guitar, a thud of bass, a shattering clank of snare on the upbeats. The Chicagoan trio — that’s Jason Balla (of Ne-Hi and Earring), Emily Kempf (of Vail and ex- of Lala Lala) and Eric McGrady — situate their songs within the tradition of scrubbed bare garage clangor, albeit with a rockabilly-ish twang sometimes flaring in the guitar lines. The one lavish, elaborate element is vocals, which twine and descant and swirl around each other, though never with undue precision. “Wild,” which leads off the disc, conjoins their various cracked and yearning voices in complicated points and counterparts, sometimes in lush, romantic sustained notes, others in percussive, time-keeping chants. “Lucky” starts in single-voiced sincerity and erupts into massive, girl-group sha-la-la-las (though some of them sung by men). Balla and Kempf recorded these songs while breaking up as a couple; they currently tour them as exes, which must lend the tunes a bit of extra ragged edge. Perhaps that’s why songs like “On My Side” are so fetching, sung with shredded hurt and blistered melody, but reaching for sweetness and finding it.

Jennifer Kelly

DJ Lag and Okzharp — Steamrooms EP (Hyperdub)

Steam Rooms EP by DJ Lag and OKZharp

Durban-based South African Gqom producer DJ Lag teams with London’s Okzharp on the raw, percussion-heavy EP Steamrooms, their first collaboration for Hyperdub. The word Gqom, an onomatopoeia based on the Zulu word for ricochet, is said to mimic the sound of hitting a drum. Steamrooms contains none of the joyful lightness one expects from South African house. This is strictly a woozy, dangerous, disorientating amalgamation of heavy militaristic drums, Zulu chants and stabbing synths tempered somewhat by Okzharp’s grimy London influence. The effect is late-night sweaty club as the drugs are wearing off ad euphoria slips into something sinister and unhinged, but it’s undeniably exciting. I can’t go on; I must go on. Steamrooms’ four tracks exhort you to move till you drop. “Nyusa” encapsulates the atmosphere, shrouded in hiss, a funky unadorned synth riff clangs over an exhausted chant from a breathless dancer and drums thud beneath. The end of the night if not the world.

Andrew Forell

Fetid — Steeping Corporeal Mess (20 Buck Spin)

Steeping Corporeal Mess by Fetid

This new record from Seattle death metal band Fetid may be the essential corrective to our national imaginary’s notion of that city as a monolithic site of liberal social policy, coffee “drinks” with lots of soy and greenwashed, vaguely cosmopolitan modes of cultural production. How many of us remember that Sir Mix-a-Lot, he of boundless enthusiasm for humanity’s anterior, is a Seattle native? Fetid share his interest in the undersides of bodies, and of things. There’s a decidedly intestinal — if not rectal — vibe to the unpleasant cover art for Steeping Corporeal Mess, and songs like “Dripping Subtepidity” and “Reeking Within” indicate a willingness to palpate beneath the Pacific Northwest’s famously moist terrain, to squish and squelch away in its rot and lukewarm organic goo. For a certain kind of listener, this may be the most fun you’ll have with a record this spring. For sure it’ll make you remember why David Lynch chose Washington state for Twin Peaks: who can forget the scene when Agent Cooper slides his long tweezers under Laura Palmer’s fingernail, to pull out a letter “R”? Or how long he has to dig around under there for it?

Jonathan Shaw

The French Tips — It's the Tips (Self Released)

It's the Tips by The French Tips

First: if The French Tips come to town, go. They recently toured with fellow Boiseans Built to Spill and blew them off the stage. As for the self-titled, self-released souvenir I took home: it’s got three great songs, (the first three, conveniently) five that are never worse than good, no duds and a lot of potential. It’s an excellent EP padded into honorable debut. The French Tips’ sound is indebted to, among others, Sleater-Kinney and Savages, but their guileless commitment to community, manifested in onstage instrument switches, shared vocal duties, their embrace of disco beats and a fat, confident, bottom end warms up their post-punk sonics considerably. The disco influence is as much spiritual as it is rhythmic: despite their righteous skronk und drang, despite oceanic guitar and bass which rage and release, surge and ebb, flash and hide, this is dance music, music to help you exorcise the bullshit. The French Tips is a bit green, but should they wish to pursue it, this is a band that deserves a record deal. Thesis statement: “Me and my witches about to burn it down”. I hope they do.

Isaac Olson

Friendship — Undercurrent (Southern Lord)

Undercurrent by Friendship

In this period of endless sub-sub-genres and hybrid forms in heavy music, it’s refreshing to hear a band with a sound that’s so straightforward. Friendship play hardcore: fast, vicious, intense songs that establish a riff and stick with it. Song titles say a lot: “Punishment,” “Lack,” “Garbage,” “Wrecker.” And so on. They’re succinct. There’s usually a breakdown section. There’s a bunch of d-beat songs. If you average the track lengths, you get almost exactly two minutes. It’s all really loud. They probably play really loud when you see them live. They can probably clear the room pretty quickly. It’s sort of fun that these guys call their band “Friendship.” It’s a good record to play when the neighbors put on Fox News. It’s a good way to say, “I don’t want to be your friend.”

Jonathan Shaw

Froth — Duress (Wichita)

Duress by Froth

It’s been a million years, it seems, since we were captivated by the “Yanni/Laurel” debate, a single murmured phrase that sounded like different things to different people. It was like that baked late-night meandering discussion about whether what I see as red is the same as yours come to life, and it vanished into the ravenous maw of internet culture. Except that Froth, an L.A. band currently on its fourth album, made a song about it, “Laurel,” full of clashing guitars and slow unspooling anarchy and whispery narratives. It could be the softest heavy rocker ever or the loudest twee fuzzed bedroom pop, depending on how you hear it. There’s a constant buzz at the bottom of all Froth’s songs, broken more often than not, by a reach for radiant melody. Froth makes an altogether engaging racket that borrows sleepily from Teenaged Fanclubs, in a fuzz-needled daze from MBV. “77,” the second single throws off the anorak for a denatured krautish groove, while “John Peel Slowly,” an instrumental, sketches a dream-landscape with loose-stringed bass, piano and space noises. Make your own sense of it, though. What you hear is largely up to you.

Jennifer Kelly

Burton Greene / Damon Smith / Ra Kalam Bob Moses — Life’s Intense Mystery CD (Astral Spirits)

Life's Intense Mystery by Greene / Smith / Moses

If you can translate words into vectors, the name of this album tells you a lot about the forces at work. While pianist Burton Greene and drummer Ra Kalam Bob Moses were born over a decade apart, both were touched by the 1960s’ cosmic spirit. And when you put Patty Waters’ preferred pianist on the same stage with Weasel Walter’s most enduring bassist, intensity is on the agenda. But if you had to boil this music down to one image, it would be the symbol for yin and yang. Opposing forces often complement each other. When the pianist mugs a bit on “Kid Play,” the bass goes with the ferocity of a bull that just figured out that the fight is rigged; and when Moses and Smith dance light and lithe on “Perc-Waves,” Greene deploys some more percussion that asserts an unbudging center of gravity. And if you want to ignore all the metaphors, you can just let yourself fall into the force of this music’s mercurial flow.

Bill Meyer

Invasive Species — Adapter (Baggage Claim)

Adapter by Invasive Species

You know the story; the drummer takes his solo, and the audience heads out for a beer or a piss. Invasive Species’ LP suggests that the problem isn’t drum music, it’s just that you’ve been listening to the wrong drummers and maybe there aren’t enough of them. Kevin Corcoran and Jon Bafus have been playing together for nine years, performing mostly within the city limits of Sacramento, California. Separately, their affiliations range encompass prog bands, Asian fusion ambient music and improvised exchanges with members of the ROVA Saxophone Quartet. Together, they play music that is concerned less with genre than with the possibilities of two augmented drum kits. Grooves collide and mesh, textures interweave and pull tight, meters multiply and never do these combinations seem designed to show off either musician’s prodigious chops. Rather, they show what a marvelous brain massage intuitively organized beats can provide.

Bill Meyer

Tyler Keen / Jacob Wick — S-T (Silt Editions)

Tyler Keen and Jacob Wick may employ different means, but their sounds make sense embedded on either side of a short strip of tape. Both men make noise that gets more complicated the closer you listen to it, and neither particularly needs volume to get noisy. Keen starts out with a blast, but once that subsides unintelligible walkie-talkie chatter, sputtering static, and the sounds of a cassette being snapped into a player pass before your ears. This is restless stuff, paced for the days when you haven’t been able to refill your Adderall RX and can’t be bothered to wait. Wick plays trumpet, probably muted by things they don’t tell you about in jazz school and definitely filtered through the sounds of room and non-invisible recording gear. Fueled by circular breathing that sustains a rarely broken stream of air, Wick’s horn rasps and hisses. Imagine that the sounds of a moth made of steel wool masticating its way through a warehouse full of old army blankets have been transmitted down a gutter and thence onto tape, and you just might imagine the sounds of Wick’s side of this cassette.

This is the second release by Silt Editions, a label with no web footprint aside from an email address ([email protected]). At press time, there were still a few copies in various distributors’ stocks. Happy hunting.

Bill Meyer

Rob Noyes — “You Are Tired” / “Nightmare Study” (Market Square Records)

You Are Tired b/w Nightmare Study by Rob Noyes

There’s no one way to do things, but the 45 rpm single seems tailor-made for playing late at night. “Just one more,” you tell yourself, fishing old records from the shelf and sitting companionably alongside the memories they conjure out of the commingling of sound, mind and the sensate experience of dust transferring from the sleeve to your fingers. “Well, maybe another one.” Rob Noyes is on to your game, and the tune on A-side of the Massachusetts-based 12-string guitar player’s latest record sees through your self-delusion and tells you like it really is. The chiming melody is as ingratiating as a late-night tug on the arm from a loved one. “Aren’t you going to come to bed?” But you’re on a roll, so you flip the record, expecting to hear another cantering tune. That’s when Noyes pulls you down the rabbit hole and into a state of consciousness that the sleep-deprived know only too well. Noyes has mastered a technique that makes him sound like a tape playing backwards even though he’s actually strumming in real time. It’s a neat trick, but it serves a function beyond showing Noyes’ imagination and technical acumen. By plunging the listener into a state of blurry disorientation, it confronts them with the next-day consequences of playing records late into the night.

Bill Meyer

Pelican — Nighttime Stories (Southern Lord)

Nighttime Stories by Pelican

Pelican’s sixth full-length starts in a pensive mode, an acoustic guitar ushering in “WST.” The guitar belonged to guitarist Dallas Thomas’ lately deceased father, and it sets a somber tone. Death haunts these bludgeoning, moody grooves, giving Nighttime Stories a heaviness that can’t be ascribed purely to guitar tone. Later, in the crushing stomp of “Cold Hope,” Pelican grinds relentlessly, the drums scattershot volleys of explosive angst. “Arteries of Blacktop” is likewise weighted and slow, a massive bass churn slugging it out with viscous sheets of amplified guitar sheen. Yet there’s a great deal of epic, serene gorgeousness, too — in the minor key strumming of “Full Moon, Black Water,” the mathy, knotty acrobatic riffs of “Abyssal Plain,” the slow building drone of “It Stared at Me.” The album title commemorates a friend of the band, Jody Minnoch, who died unexpectedly of heart problems in 2014; he’d meant to use the phrase for a Tusk album, but passed before he could do so. The title track glowers with volcanic life force. Hip deep in mourning and existential query, it celebrates a muscular, triumphant still-here-ness.

Jennifer Kelly

Spiral Wave Nomads — Spiral Wave Nomads (Feeding Tube / Twin Lakes)

Spiral Wave Nomads by Spiral Wave Nomads

Spiral Wave Nomads is a two man, two state band. Eric Hardiman (guitars, bass, sitar) lives in upstate New York, and drummer Michael Kiefer lives in Connecticut. This means that distances must be traveled if the two of them are to meet face to face, which is how substantial parts of this LP of cosmic instrumentals was made. And what better thing to do as you cross the verdant hills of the Northeastern USA than jam some tunes? Drifting alone to these ascending guitar lines and undulating percussive surges, it’s easy to imagine one or the other Nomad rounding some valley road and flashing on Popol Vuh’s Aguirre. “Was that a fly fisherman standing in the river, or did I see some conquistador on a raft, hollering at the monkeys?” Drift and drive a little longer and they might marvel at the play of striating light across the clouds and associating to some past pleasantly dreamy experiences involving a CD player loaded with Neu and Jimi Hendrix. All of which is a fanciful way to say that these guys sound like they have done their space rock homework, and they put their knowledge to good use on this LP. So don’t throw away the download code; you might want to program your own rural adventure with these tones.

Bill Meyer

Chad Taylor — Myths and Morals (Eyes & Ears)

Myths and Morals by Chad Taylor

One day at the end of last summer, Chad Taylor showed what it takes to be an MVP. Over the course of one long, humid Sunday afternoon on a semi-shaded stage at the Chicago Jazz Festival, he played three consecutive sets with three different bands. He sustained the set-length dynamics of Jaime Branch’s Fly or Die, swung muscularly with the Jason Stein Quartet, and managed the mercurial flow of the Eric Revis Quartet. He might have soaked through a shirt, but he never dropped a beat, nor did he ever seem less than tuned in to the particular requirements of those three quite different ensembles.

Myths and Morals most closely corresponds to another of Taylor’s projects, the Chicago Underground Duo. While his equipment is restricted to drum kit and mbira (thumb piano), his compositional imagination is wide open. These pieces may tarry for a moment on some texture or pattern, but for the most part they are studies in constant development. Precision and restraint yield surprise and mystery; the music is so involving and complete that it’s easy to forget that you’re listening to solo percussion.

Bill Meyer

Chris Welcome and His Orchestra — Beyond All Things (Gauci Music)

Beyond All Things by Chris Welcome & His Orchestra

A free jazz octet might sound like caviar soup: too much of an indulgent thing. Chris Welcome makes it work here, harnessing the noisy tendencies of this roomful of younger New York players with some light-touch compositional structure and a willingness to swing. In under half an hour, we go from a free-time fanfare highlighting the gestural playing of trumpeter Jaimie Branch and tenorist Sam Weinberg through to a medium-firm groove laid down by bassist Shayna Dulberger and drummer Mike Pride, over which cornetist Kirk Knuffke blows with a coolness so confident that it sounds like the swing feel of the composition was summoned by his playing, not the other way around. Minutes later, that groove gets harder and altoist Anthony Ware delivers a fiery solo while the rest of the horns chatter in the background like they’re doing avant-garde Dixieland (an approach perhaps being alluded to by the appellation “and His Orchestra”). Welcome himself mostly hides behind the sonic bushes, his heavily effected guitar and synthesizer offering eerie interjections and a short woozy solo halfway through the piece. He’s a virtuoso guitarist, but here he gets to be a virtuoso organizer, savvy enough to know the amount of organization called for.

Ben Remsen

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