#meg baird

[alanlicht]

West coast tour for Havens starts this week! All solo sets

Thur 11/14 San Diego house show with Charles Curtis tix

Fri 11/15 Los Angeles 2220 Arts with Byron Westbrook and Shelley Burgon tix

Sat 11/16 Sacramento house with Old Million Eye RSVP to bcfaulkner@yahoo.com

Sunday 11/17 Oakland Thee Stork Club with Sharkiface tix

Monday 11/18 Arcata CA Miniplex at Richard's Goat Tavern with Meg Baird tix

Tues 11/19 Portland Turn Turn Turn with Ilyas Ahmed & Matt Carlson, Bob & Lila tix at door only

Wed 11/20 Seattle Wayward Music Series at Good Shepherd Chapel tix at door only

[dustedmagazine]

Jennifer Kelly’s 2023 in Review: Still Human FWIW

I finally saw Sun Ra Arkestra

I first heard about Chat GPT in January this year, and it sounded bad from the start. I make most of my living writing things for big faceless corporations who view me as a cost. Cut that cost to zero and I’m out of a job. But for the first five months of 2024, I continued to be busy and I thought, well maybe it’s nothing. Then in May, like a light switch, everything stopped. I had one regular client who continued to pay a monthly retainer. Nothing else. And the usual mailings, pleadings with old clients, etc. had no effect. I’m close to retirement age. This summer, I thought I had arrived early.

Things have picked up since then, and right now, I’m in a good place. People are starting to notice Chat GPT’s ignorance of anything post 2021, its refusal to factcheck or footnote and its relentless blandness. Clients are coming back, but the floor doesn’t feel very solid under my feet. It could all go away at any time. (This is the lesson we all learned from COVID-19…that you could fall into the pit any time.)

The one thing that didn’t stop was Dusted, and for that I am very grateful. As I’ll explain to anyone who asks, there’s never been any money in Dusted, so there can’t be any less. We are more or less immune to economic pressures. And as long as we’re here, there is lots and lots of good music to write about.

My year started with two records that blew me away in January (and maybe December 2022) and held #1 and #2 slots all year. They were Meg Baird’s Furling and Robert Forster’s the Candle and the Flame. Next, came an email from Rob from Sunburned with a link to Stella Kola’s extraordinary debut, and then gosh, Sub Pop still sends me promos and here’s one from Mudhoney! Every time 2024 succeeded in getting me down, I’d get music from someone.

Live music was another solace. Shows that made me happy this year included Warp Trio, Sunburned Hand of the Man, Dear Nora, Vieux Farka Toure, Bridget St. John with Stella Kola, Sun Ra Arkestra, Kid Millions with Sarah Bernstein, Faun Fables, Sweeping Promises, Daniel Higgs, Constant Smiles, Baba Commandant (RIP), Xylouris White, Joseph Allred with Ruth Garbus and Ryan Davis with his Roadhouse band. Special mention goes to the always astonishing Thing in the Spring with Editrix, Rough Francis, Thus Love, Gorilla Toss, Equipment Pointed Ankh. Susan Alcorn, Marisa Anderson and Jim White and Bill Callahan.

The best show of the year, however, came late in the summer with William Tyler and the Impossible Truth band, an unbelievably talented, seasoned crew with Luke Schneider on pedal steel, Third Man mainstay Jack Lawrence on bass and Brian Kotzgur on drums. The way they opened up and fired up Tyler’s songs was a revelation, even to someone, like me, who’s been a fan since Behold the Spirit. Garcia Peoples opened, and they were great, too.

I should mention that we have recently been blessed with a bunch of excellent music venues nearby—Nova Arts in Keene and Epsilon Spires and the Stone Church in Brattleboro. Going to music used to always mean driving back from at least Northampton, sometimes further, late at night, and, as I get older and my night vision fades, it has been really nice not to have to do that. (Also, to all my Dusted-reader-musician-friends, if you play one of these venues, thank you, and let me know when you’re coming.)

With that, it’s time to talk about 2023 favorites. I’ll write about the first ten and then just list the rest.

Meg Baird — Furling (Drag City)

Meg Baird’s gorgeous solo album alternates between ghostly, inward-looking piano songs and bright swirls of 1960s psychedelia. Her extraordinary voice, high, pure, and unearthly, joins lush, burnished guitar grooves. Sometimes I think I like the swaggering bounce of “Will You Follow Me Home,” the best, but other times, the disembodied otherness of “Ashes, Ashes” is the prettiest thing I know.

Robert Forster — The Candle and the Flame (Tapete) 

Forster’s solo records are always good, wry and funny and stuttering with strummy punk energy, but this one, recorded with family while his wife battled cancer, is his best yet. “She’s a Fighter,” a group sing-along is prickly and defiant, the only song specifically written about Karin’s illness, but threads of enduring, life-long love run all through this album. “Tender Years” is especially moving, as Forster sings, “I’m in a story with her, I know I can’t live without her, I can’t imagine why,” in a voice cracked with sincerity and feeling. Very few albums make me cry, but this one does.

Anohni and the Johnsons—My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross (Secretly Canadian)

The sound on Anohni’s fifth album with the Johnsons smolders in the pocket, its textures a nod to Marvin Gaye’s classic What’s Going On? It’s velvety smooth but taut with urgency, as the artist contemplates climate disaster and personal struggles. “It Must Change,” trills with the coolest falsetto, while “Sliver of Ice” reverberates with a low, hushed passion. Every song lands a punch, soft when it happens but ringing for days in your ears.

The Drin — Today My Friend You Drunk the Venom (Feel It)

“Venom” lurches and blurts, bass thumping, drums clashing, monotone vocals drenched in menace. It’s a punk song distilled to essence, a world in itself, a short, brutal blast that is also somehow psychedelically expansive. The Fall, the Swell Maps and Adrian Sherwood haunt this disc in various places, but the Drin is its own mysterious thing.

Wreckless Eric — Leisureland (Tapete)

“Get yourself a one-way ticket for the merry-go-round,” sings the Bard of Hull on the last and most exhilarating song from his ninth full-length. That’s “Drag Time,” with its indelible hook, its enveloping harmonies, its hint of Amy Rigby in the chorus. Let’s just go way out on a limb here and say it’s as good, maybe better, than “Whole Wide World.”  

En Attendant Ana — Principia (Trouble in Mind)

Good lord, was Trouble in Mind on a roll this year or what? I could put Melanas or Tubs here, with FACS not far behind, but instead, let us contemplate the light-and-dark wonder of “Black Morning,” with its giddy counterpoints, its bright, sustaining trumpet, its boppy beat and its underpinning, somehow, of shadowy melancholy. Or the skanky bass that kicks off “Same Old Story,” in a prickly way, the lone element of dissonance that gives a daydream teeth.

Stella Kola—S-T (Self-Release)

Everybody who’s anybody in W. Mass alt.folk does a turn on this magical LP—centered around Beverly Ketch and Rob Thomas but including PG Six, Wednesday Knudson, Jeremy Pisani, Willy Lane and Jen Gelineau. Despite the expansiveness of the ensemble, these songs are feather light and lucid, like Pentangle sprinkled with magic dust.

Mudhoney — Plastic Eternity (Sub Pop)

Psychedelic overload meets raw punk and potty humor in this 12th album from the grunge godfathers. I like the sheer rush and swirl of cuts like “Almost Everything” and “Souvenir of my Trip” best, but bare, belligerent “Flush the Fascists” is grade-A too, and how can anyone resist Mark Arm paying tribute to his best bud on “Little Dogs.”

Beirut — Hadsel (Pompeii)

Hadsel is surprisingly cheery for an album recorded on a remote Norwegian island in the dead of winter, with swoony harmonies and counterpoints, intricate synthesized beats and blares of an antique pipe organ. “We had so many plans,” Zach Condon sings, both mourning and subtly sending up his cohort’s response to the COVID pandemic, but this remarkably pretty album seems more like a happy accident.

The Feelies—Some Kinda Love (Bar None)

What a total pleasure it is when one jangly, drone-y, indie rock phenomenon pays tribute to the wellspring. In this case, it’s the Feelies covering many of the Velvet Underground’s best known songs at a live show in 2018 where everyone had a blast. Now you can, too.

More albums that I loved in the order that I thought of them.

Iron & Wine—Who Can See Forever Soundtrack (Sub Pop)

Melanas—Ahora (Trouble in Mind)

Sleaford Mods — UK Grim (Domino)

The Tubs — Dead Meat (Trouble in Mind)

Sky Furrows—Reflect and Oppose (Feeding Tube/Cardinal Fuzz)

Lonnie Holley — Oh Me Oh My (Jagjaguwar)

Yo La Tengo—This Stupid World (Matador)

The Toads—In the Wilderness (Upset the Rhythm)

Dan Melchior—Welcome to Redacted City (Midnight Cruiser)

James and the Giants—S-T (Kill Rock Stars)

Ben Chasny and Rick Tomlinson—Waves (VOIX)

Bonnie Prince Billy—Keeping Secrets Will Destroy You (Drag City)

CLASS—If You’ve Got Nothing (Feel It)

The Clientele—I’m Not There Anymore (Merge)

Devendra Banhart—Flying Wig (Mexican Summer)

Kristin Hersh—Clear Pond Road (FIRE)

Sally Anne Morgan—Carrying (Thrill Jockey)

FACS—Still Life in Decay (Trouble in Mind)

Setting—Shone a Rainbow Light On (Paradise of Bachelors)

Airto Moreira & Flora Purim—A Celebration (BBE)

Sweeping Promises—Good Living Is Coming For You (Feel It)

James Waudby—On the Ballast Miles (East Riding Acoustic)

Emergency Group—Venal Twin (Centripetal Force)

Ryan Davis and the Roadhouse Band—Sing Dancing on the Edge (Sophomore Lounge)

Tyvek—Overground (Gingko)

Wurld Series—The Giant’s Lawn (Melted Ice Cream)

Various Artists—STOP MVP (War Hen)

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Damon & Naomi - Best Video Film & Cultural Center, Hamden, Connecticut, May 12, 2023

Following up Powers / Rolin, we're keeping it duo-y this week with a fabulous tape of Damon & Naomi in the "almost pretty" state of Connecticut earlier this year. D&N were playing Best Video Film & Cultural Center, a nonprofit venue/community gathering space that honestly seems like one of the coolest places in the entire Nutmeg State. "I don't know why we haven't played a video store before," Damon marvels, later noting the unexpectedly excellent acoustics that a wall of VHS tapes provides.

And yeah, he and Naomi are wonderful as always, playing several tunes from their latest/greatest A Sky Record along with some welcome dips into their rich back catalog, which now stretches back over 30 years. I especially enjoy the songs in which Naomi picks up her bass — such a unique and absorbing sound. In the first issue of the highly recommended new zine Head Voice (more on that soon), Ben Chasny and Elisa Ambrogio go deep with Yang about that sound. "[I]f you play really low all the time, the club starts to vibrate and everything falls off the shelves. It's like a seismic sound, all those super low notes. But I think I really started playing higher up because I always write the bass lines by singing them, so that is where my voice is. I also just thought it sounded pretty and it cut through."

The laid-back setting also encourages banter, so we get to hear about D&N's newly adopted cat, misadventures on the Merritt Parkway and Tim Buckley's appearance on The Monkees. And hey, there's even a majestic rendition of the old Galaxie 500 chestnut "Another Day" ... though I'm also going to suggest you check out the radical version of this song from around the same time with Meg Baird and Charlie Saufley. (Oh and then maybe you can dig the quartet's radical Popol Vuh cover???)

In case you haven't guessed yet, this recording is another dig into the Alex Butterfield Archives, which have given us untold treasures over the past several years. Go dig through the tapes! Thank you, Alex!

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #28:

Mike Heron's Smiling Men with Bad Reputations

In 2003 I spent a day with two way-out-of-my-league hipsters. I was not cool: a social worker married with a 1 year old; I had no thoughtful facial hair or ironic t-shirts; they were the epitome of cool: screenwriters and poets by day and ladies men by night; it goes without saying that both had very thoughtful facial hair and very ironic t-shirts. Together we visited one of San Francisco's hippest independent music stores.

Once in the door, we split up. My peers thumbed and nodded their way through the Stereolab and Flaming Lips sections while making confident small talk with the shop's owner about how Jeff Tweedy had plagiarized him on basically all of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (the store had a big, loud, handwritten editorial on this subject on prominent display: according to the shop, they'd turned Tweedy on to the source for all the background noise on the record - you know, the lady repeating the call sign title and the swirling jet streams of periodic chaos - and therefore they deserved co-songwriting credits for everything; but they were way too cool to consider legal action, and, what's more, they considered the music Tweedy and Co had made detracted from and trivialized the original, CD collection of white noise, which they still exclusively sold for only 28 bucks) while I hit the shop's very small and disregarded Dollar Bin on the floor in a corner.

2003 was, as you know, still the height of the CD era. Only cheapskates like me still bought records, let alone still owned a record player. I had that Dollar Bin all to myself.

Similarly, the Incredible String Band was not enjoying any kind of renaissance at that point. (They've never really had one. I'm starting it right now.) In 03 people were still very much reeling from 9/11, wrestling with the Bush presidency and downloading Nabster. Everyone was listening to Outkast and Radiohead, not hippies who sang about minotaurs.

And so when I passed a Dollar Bin copy of Mike Heron's Smiling Men with Bad Reputations across that august shop's counter for purchase everything got real awkward real fast. The owner rang me up with disdain and great reluctance, like he was worried that Tweedy might show up at that very moment, his full, written apology in hand, and then see my transaction going down and change his mind. My hipster friends took deep breaths and suggested I get a bag with which to carry the record back to their squat; after all, flashing Mike Heron on vinyl was gonna cut our cool factor in front of the SF ladies down into the negatives.

Happily, the only lady I've wanted to impress since 1992 is my wife (only she can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a ladies man, no time to talk). And happily, I have no pride. So I declined the shop's bag and told everyone present that Mike Heron's first solo record rocked - think VU's third record, I told them, if Cale had fired Reed and replaced him with Brian Wilson and everyone was way into Scientology. The embarrassed sighs that greeted this speech were collective; had I asked for a copy of their white noise album the owner dude would have claimed they were sold out.

Listen: I am never shy about making a fool out of myself when it comes to Mike Heron. I once sat at a bar for an hour with the great Meg Baird before one of her Heron Oblivion shows. We were the only people there; I was so excited for their show that I showed up ridiculously early (again, I'm a no pride person).

Meg and I talked about her music for a bit, then I name dropped my famous brother, who she totally knew, because, you know, he's famous. Once discussion of his fame petered out, and after she'd politely asked me this and that about my own life, I got down to the most important topic of that or just about any other evening: Mike Heron.

Me: So, Meg, I'm guessing your band's name, Heron Oblivion, is a tribute to the great Mike Heron, yes?

Meg, who was fingering her Led Zeppelin necklace and thinking big deal rock and roll thoughts: Uh, Who's Mike Heron?

Me: You know Meg, from The Incredible String Band! Mike and Robin Williamson were Paul McCartney's favorite musicians in 1968. Paul's a smart guy, some of the time. Jimmy Page played on Mike's first solo record!

Meg: Oh yeah, right, Mike Heron. No, we definitely did not name our band after anyone in the Incredible String Band. We were thinking about the bird actually. You know, herons.

Me: There's a bird named after Mike Heron?

Okay, so I admit it: I didn't say that the last line. But I wish I had! And the rest of my story is true. Finally, who knows, maybe herons really are named after Mike, pictured flush left, who wrote about so masterfully about amoebas living the timeless life.

What song can you name that's more unique, bizarre and wonderful? That's right, none. Here's what I think: if indeed there are not already birds named after Mike Heron, then I think we should find some new ones and name them Mike Heron.

Back at the bar, I did go on to suggest, very earnestly, that Meg and her bandmates consider covering Feast of Stephen, the final track on the A side of Smiling Men with Bad Reputations. The track is totally ready for Heron Oblivion's twin guitar attack under Baird's howling vocals. Baird very nicely decided that she needed to get a life and stop talking to me at that point. I don't blame her, but I stand by my suggestion. Feast of Stephen is an under the radar platter of sonic sweetmeats ready for everyone's consumption. Eat it now.

Let's get into a little background on my man Mike and the story behind this record from 71.  ISB had made 6 or 7 (or maybe 8?!) records in the previous 5 years, records that are alternatively silly and deeply spiritual.  Heron typically wrote the lighter and more joyful tracks, except when he didn't.  Williamson wrote droning, brooding epics that turned delightful corners, except when he didn't.  The two men sounded as good together as they look on the cover of The Big Huge: clear eyed young geniuses sharing a double bill, like a behind the looking glass version of Lennon and McCartney with all their angst and megalomania swapped out for earnest, unbridled joy, plus kazoo solos. 

The boys played every instrument imaginable and included their lady friends, Rose and Licorice, who sang and played bass like they were in The Shaggs.  Song topics ranged from the joy one can find in a box of paints or new puppies to the meaning of life.  Imagine Robyn Hitchcock and Rafi dropping LSD and then sharing a jet ski. Why isn't everyone into the Incredible String Band?

But somewhere right before Heron slipped away on his own to make Smiling Men with Bad Reputations, Scientology slipped its slimy, parasitic hooks into the duo. It would quickly suck them dry.  Under evil uncle L. Ron's sway, Williamson's songs got longer and wilder, almost unlistenable.  Heron, his head at least momentarily more firmly in place, decided it was time to rock. And so he called his famous friends and admirers. They all came. And I mean all of them: sessions for Smiling Men with Bad Reputations featured most of The Who, Elton John, most of the Fairport/Fotheringay crew, and Stephen Winwood. Oh yeah, and Jimmy Page.  What's more, John Cale arranged much of the record, filling in all the cracks with his signature swelling grace; the ubiquitous Joe Boyd produced. 

Heron may not be on any hipster's radar this century but he was, for a moment, the leading hipster in England in 71. Everyone wanted to spin in his wacky orbit. I imagine Lennon and McCartney showed up hoping to contribute but were simply not needed. (Stephen Stills, who, dedicated readers of the Dollar Bin will remember, was living in Ringo Starr's mansion at that point, surely heard that Heron had a song in development entitled Feast of Stephen and assumed the song was dedicated to his mastery; when he showed up to grace the sessions with his presence I trust Richard Thompson karate chopped him in onto his keister.)

Happily, Heron didn't simply bask joyfully in his famous friends attention.  He brought his best work to the table.  The album opens with Call Me Diamond, a joyful, flinging horn ride; it's weird the B52's never covered it. 

Flowers of the Forest follows, featuring Richard Thompson's unmistakable gurgling guitar leads; the song is very nearly perfect.  All that's missing is Cale's polish; he appears on much, but not all, of the record.  Why, oh why, didn't Joe Boyd insist that Cale get his hands on every single song?  Even so, I encourage you to listen to Heron's passionate track alongside another masterpiece Cale did in fact arrange that same year, Nick Drake's Northern Sky.  What are better love songs than these?  

All of Side 1 is packed with equally good ideas, the tone jumping from wild to earnest to gentle then epic.  Unfortunately, much of the flip side is dedicated to Warm Heart Pastry, Heron's paean to the kind of meat that is placed inside dough. Mike fronts The Who on the track which sounds awesome on paper; but the results don't fully justify its 6 minute run time.

Still, let's cut Mike a break. Smiling Men has got everything, even has a goofy, incomprehensible cover.  (What the hell is the story being told on the gatefold, anyway?  Heron joyfully presents a pineapple to a chaotic mod of Halloween Saudi sheikhs; there's enough aluminum foil on hand to cover a whale sized burrito.  I can't understand any of what is going, but I sure wish someone had invited me to the party.)

So, why isn't this record famous? Why didn't Heron sell enough copies to instantly become chief captain of Scientology's battleship and crash all those John Travolta-look-a-like aliens that are secretly controlling our thoughts into the sun? As near as I can tell - and I'd love to hear from someone who knows better - Heron escaped the cult in the early 80's, but he hasn't made music of note in 50 years. What happened?

I don't know, but Mike is still alive and well. Rick Rubin, Heron Oblivion or Jeff Tweedy should get their act together and lure Heron back in the studio with them for a final run of genius. I have no doubt that the music they could create together would finally bring Heron the recognition he deserves.

And hey, Rick/Jeff/Meg: when you settle into the studio to record it all, let Mike know that I will graciously keep quiet about how the entire project is essentially plagiarism of The Dollar Bin (so long as I'm granted co-songwriting credits, of course). 

[kentuckyanarchist]

Songs of 2022

Year-end lists always seem doomed to become outdated. Am I really expected to have heard all the best songs of 2022 in 2022? It’s never going to work, they’ll seep through over the course of the following year or years. But giving it six weeks is better than nothing, so here we are in mid-late February.

1. Tomberlin, “Stoned”.

Stoned indeed: woozy, baffled, bodily undone.

2. Camp Cope, “Running with the Hurricane”.

Camp Cope perfected a bassy, blunt melancholy with How to Socialise & Make Friends; here they don’t so much break from that template as turn it to other—affirmative? aggressive?—purposes.

3. Caroline, “Good Morning (Red)”.

The year’s most something-new-on-every-listen song, its most capacious.

4. Christian Lee Hutson, “Age Difference”.

Lyric of the year: “Do my impression of John Malkovich critiquing food in prison / At first it isn’t funny, then it is, and then it isn’t.”

5. Big Thief, “Change”.

A panoply of possibilities on such a sprawling, immersive album by the absolute best in the game, but this most plaintive and stubborn lament just edges the rest.

6. Rachika Nayar ft. Maria BC, “Heaven Come Crashing”.

Sounds for the silentest disco.

7. The A’s, “Why I’m Grieving”.

A path not taken from an archive not delved-into; a peppy sad spurt of jolly heartbreak.

8. Black Country, New Road, “Snow Globes”.

I’m still not sure if this song’s about going mad, getting old, living through winter, all three, or none.

9. Arctic Monkeys, “Body Paint”.

Searching, insistent: like Alex Turner’s got you caught in a lie.

10. Stella Donnelly, “Cold”.

This could’ve been any of Stella Donnelly’s songs where the lilt of her voice is always dropping into conversationality, but this one, where she ends the conversation, full-stop, shuts me up the most.

11. Martha, “Irreversible Motion”.

So many of these songs are about little things, like the bones of the inner ear; this one maybe more than all the others.

12. Florist, “Red Bird Pt. 2 (Morning)”.

A delicate retrospective collage, a slow bashful loving appreciation, a puzzled amazed asking-why, a cautious comfort.

13. Aldous Harding, “Fever”.

Aldous Harding’s songs have this wonderful, dignified refusal to cohere; this one just lopes, or loafs, in and out of view.

14. Meg Baird, “Will You Follow Me Home?”.

The way Meg Baird’s vocals stay half-submerged here is what gets me: “Will You Follow Me Home?” goes from lazy river to maelstrom without you quite noticing.

15. Brian Eno, “Making Gardens Out of Silence”.

If you ask me, “Making Gardens Out of Silence” is a panorama from the time after humans, built from salvage by whatever-comes-next.

16. Hurray for the Riff Raff, “SAGA”.

A lot of these songs express a specifically 2022 kind of bafflement. “SAGA” doesn’t know how to get past this condition either, but it’s pushing against the boundaries.

17. Lana Del Rey, “Watercolor Eyes”.

You think you know someone’s schtick, but they surprise you.

18. Black Belt Eagle Scout, “My Blood Runs Through This Land".

Alternating between wordlessness and breathlessness, either way keeping on building to something.

19. Jake Xerxes Fussell, “Love Farewell”.

Stoic and stolid, Jake Xerxes Fussell bets on metaphor but could’ve made do with just rumble, growl and twinkle.

20. Ezra Furman, “Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club”.

Secret-telling in movie-theatre darkness.

21. Let’s Eat Grandma, “Happy New Year”.

Let’s Eat Grandma have the saddest synths but this one’s rose-coloured.

22. Joshua Burnside, “Louis Mercier”.

Time-travel klezmer-pop that jostles you like a cobbled towpath.

23. Beth Orton, “Weather Alive”.

When talking songs become singing songs so sylphlike and effortless.

24. Sault, “Life We Rent but Love Is Free”.

Sounds like certain small parts of London, for certain small moments, on busy summer days in the past.

25. Bill Callahan, “Coyotes”.

One for slickrock and sagebrush, which are not without their romance.

26. Yard Act, “Tall Poppies”.

A self-consciously small story, a kitchen-sink drama, a talking head, no denouément.

27. Angel Olsen, “All the Good Times”.

A rhinestone widescreen production, a road movie on a soundstage.

28. Beach House, “Hurts to Love”.

Generationally speaking, the ending of Skins series 1 still packs a fair bit of a punch, so rewriting “Wild World” by Cat Stevens makes more sense than you’d think.

29. The 1975, “The 1975”.

Imagine taking “All My Friends” and making it about your cock and it’s still good; that takes rare talent.

30. Craig Finn, “Birthdays”.

Comforting because it really is nice to know there’s someone in this world who’s always known you, and comforting because it’s Craig Finn doing Craig Finn stuff with his big dumb Craig Finn voice.

31. Julia Jacklin, “Lydia Wears a Cross”.

A bodily song: knees, eyes, clothes, adornments.

32. Anaïs Mitchell, “On Your Way (Felix Song)”.

You get the sense Anaïs Mitchell finds nothing all that difficult—eulogising, philosophising, doing justice to a life, picking out the pithiest reminiscences, in just under three minutes she bowls it all over.

33. Billy Woods, “Pollo Rico”.

Intrusive thoughts, compulsion to repeat. A personal history of madness.

34. Bright Eyes, “Arc of Time (Time Code) (Companion Version)”.

This year Bright Eyes re-recorded some of the songs from the 2000s I love/hate the most. “Arc of Time” gets remade without the beats or the keys, but stays smart and wry and death stays on its mind. 

35. Fred again.., “Berwyn (all that i got is you)”.

Fred again..’s songs are urban explorations, entries to London’s subterrene.

36. Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “Spitting Off the Edge of the World”.

Cosmic.

37. The Big Moon, “Ladye Bay”.

Supersized, tectonic.

38. Drive-By Truckers, “The Driver”.

Grimy, grunting noir.

39. Ethel Cain, “American Teenager”.

D. H. Lawrence would’ve liked Ethel Cain and her Great American Hauntedness.

40. Girlpool, “Butterfly Bulletholes”.

Such a shame to lose Girlpool in 2022 but they were four or five bands in just two people, they gave us a lot.

41. The Beths, “Expert in a Dying Field”.

This one speaks for itself.

42. Nilüfer Yanya, “Shameless”.

Breathless, almost somehow fleshless, rattling ribcage xylophone.

43. Mesadorm, “Soap Opera”.

Skew-whiff boiler-hiss robot pop.

44. Porridge Radio, “Back to the Radio”.

Porridge Radio’s skills are in cacophony, cataclysm, crisis, ruination, disaster mismanagement.

45. Wet Leg, “Too Late Now”.

Every introspection needs a wise-crack or two.

46. Wilco, “Tired of Taking It Out on You”.

Aged 29, I had chickenpox recently; I recovered but it’s made looking in the mirror interesting, all these new small markings on the same face.

47. Plains, “Hurricane”.

The lyrics to “Hurricane” read like an apology, but Katie Crutchfield’s voice always sounds a little barbed to me; that’s what makes this work, I think.

48. Daniel Avery, “Higher”.

Frenetic travel in place.

49. Kevin Morby, “Bittersweet, TN”.

Kevin Morby hits all the requirements, he straight-A’s being a country singer.

50. Beabadoobee, “You’re Here That’s the Thing”.

In 2023 I resolve to continue to love silly rhymes, campfire rhythms, dewdrops and holding hands.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Six Organs of Admittance Interview: More Than a Couple Chairs

Photo by Kami Chasny

BY JORDAN MAINZER

When Ben Chasny dives into something, he usually dives deep. Upon answering the phone in February, when I called him to talk about his new Six Organs of Admittance album Time Is Glass (out today on Drag City), he seemed a bit scattered. Despite mentally preparing himself all day for the interview, he got distracted by a "What are you digging lately?" Bandcamper compilation Drag City asked him to put together to advertise his record release. (A music fan with a voracious appetite, Chasny was rediscovering music he had purchased a couple years prior and forgot about.) Six Organs records often occupy the same dedicated headspace, Chasny setting aside blocks of time to think about nothing else. That is, until Time Is Glass. On his latest, Chasny blurs the lines between his outside-of-music life and the music itself, the album a batch of songs that reflects on the magical minutiae that sprout during a period of needed stasis.

The last time I spoke to Chasny, he and his partner [Elisa Ambrogio of Magik Markers] were still settling in from their move to Humboldt County in Northern California. "When Elisa and I first moved here, we didn't have any friends," Chasny said. "But there's a group of us that live in Humboldt now. A bunch of my friends moved up since the last time I talked to you." That includes fellow Comets on Fire bandmate Ethan Miller and his partner, fellow New Bums musical partner Donovan Quinn, and folk singer Meg Baird and her partner. "Every New Year's Day, if it's not pouring rain, we take a walk on the beach," said Chasny. One such photoshoot on January 1, 2023 yielded the album cover for Time Is Glass: That's Miller and his poodle, along with Baird's Heron Oblivion bandmate Charlie Saufley. This unintentional artistic collective meets up often, whether for coffee or as Winter Band, a rotating cast of area musicians who form to open up for musician friends when they come through town, like Sir Richard Bishop of Sun City Girls. As such, according to Chasny, Time Is Glass is a celebration of community.

Perhaps the supportive strength of his artistic family gave Chasny the willpower to incorporate elements of his daily life into Time Is Glass, something he couldn't avoid. He didn't share with me exactly what in his personal life made it impossible to separate the two, though he mentioned his dog, a difficult-to-train puppy that was a mix of three traditionally stubborn breeds. Said dog inspired "My Familiar", a song that uses occult language to inhabit the mind of his obstinate canine companion. "And we'll burn this whole town / No one says there's good," Chasny sings, alternating between his quintessential hushed delivery and falsetto, his layered vocals atop circular picking exuding a sense of sparseness. Indeed, you wouldn't expect a Six Organs record about home life to sound totally blissful; Time Is Glass is at once gentle and menacing. The devotional "Spinning In A River" portrays the titular carefree act as lightly as the prickle of Chasny's guitar or as doomily as the song's distortion. "Hephaestus" and "Theophany Song" imagine their respective mythological characters as gruff and voyeuristic. "Summer's Last Rays" indeed captures a sense of finality, Chasny's processed guitar and warbling harmonium providing the instantly hazy nostalgia before the fade-out. The album is bookended by songs more straightforwardly hopeful, the opener "The Mission" a dedication to friends falling in love with their new place of residence, the closer "New Year's Song" a twangy ode to dreaming. But it's the moments in between that Chasny was forced to capture on Time Is Glass. And thankfully, what was born out of necessity yielded, for him, new ways to interpret the same old, same old.

Read my conversation with Chasny below, edited for length and clarity. He speaks on domesticity, mythology, playing live, and Arthur Russell.

SILY: You've lived in Humboldt County for a bit. Is Time Is Glass the first Six Organs record in a while you made while situated in one place?

Ben Chasny: I did do a couple records here before. The first one, I was in the process of moving here, so I wasn't really settled. The second was at the beginning of lockdown. This is the first one I felt like was recorded at a home. Everything was settled, I have a schedule. When I was doing the first one, I didn't even have furniture in the house. I had a couple chairs. [laughs]

SILY: Do you think the feeling of being recorded at a home manifests in any specific way on the album?

BC: I started to incorporate daily domestic routines into the record, more often. A lot of the melodies were written while taking the dog for a walk, which I've never done before. There was always stuff to do as I moved in. The times weren't as separate. Before, it was, "Now I'm recording, now I'm doing life stuff." There was a merging of everything here. I would listen to it on my earbuds while taking walks and constantly work on it for six months.

SILY: It definitely has that homeward bound feel in terms of the lyrics and the sound, like you've been somewhere forever. There are a lot of lyrics about the absence of time, and there's a circular nature to the rhythms and the guitars. Does the title of the album refer to this phenomenon?

BC: A little bit. Time does seem, in general, post-lockdowns and COVID, different. The lyrics on the record have a bit more domesticity. It always seems like there was something that had to be done, that would normally keep me from doing music, that I tried to incorporate here. Maybe I'm just getting older, too. I'm getting more sensitive towards time. I'm running out. [laughs]

SILY: Was there anything specific about your domestic life that made you want to include it in your music?

BC: Just that I had to include it in order to do anything. It was no longer separate. The way life ended up working out, I could no longer separate my artistic life from other life. I had to put the artistic aspect into it in order to work. Instead of getting frustrated, I brought [music] more into the house.

SILY: Did working on the record give you a new perspective on domesticity?

BC: I don't know. A little bit. I was just trying to come to terms with basic life things. Let me look at the record, I forgot what songs are on it. [laughs] The song "My Familiar" is about my dog. I got this book called Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits, which was sort of taken from transcriptions of witch trials from Scotland in the 1500's. A lot of dealing with things like witches' familiars and demon familiars. I found a very strong similarity between that and my dog, which seemed like it was maybe a demon. She's a Husky-German Shepherd-Australian Shepherd mix, so as a puppy, she needed a lot of work. So that became a song. That's a more humorous way everyday life made its way into the music.

[With regard to] the last song, "New Years Song", Elisa and I have a contest on New Year's Eve when we're hanging out where we go in separate rooms and have one hour to write a song. We come out at 11 or 11:30 and play the song for each other. We've done it for a few years now. This was the song I wrote for New Year's Eve going into 2022.

SILY: You talk about God on Time Is Glass and delve a little bit into mythology. Was that something you were thinking about on a day to day basis when writing?

BC: The “Hephaestus” song was just a character. That was a rare song for me in that I was trying to make sounds that particularly evoked a mythological figure. I've made nods to mythology in the past, but the titles were almost an afterthought. This particular song, I was trying to make the sounds of that character in their workshop with the fire and anvils. I was trying to evoke that feeling. That was kind of a new one for me.

SILY: Maybe I'm reading into it too much, but you also seem to talk a bit about your state of mind on "Slip Away".

BC: It's funny you caught onto that, because I wasn't really expecting to bring it up during interviews. I wouldn't say that I came close at times in the past couple years to schizophrenia, but I could see way off in the distance and horizon what that would be like. I...was trying to write about that. At the same time, the lyrics that have to do with two minds and the splitting of the mind are also somewhat of a reference to the idea of a celestial twin or Valentinian gnosis, how you have a celestial counterpart. That idea [is behind the concept of] someone's guardian angel.

SILY: On a couple songs, you sing to someone or something else. "The Mission" you've mentioned is for a friend and their new partner. What about on "Spinning in a River"?

BC: Maybe it was more of a general idea. It wasn't so much to a person as to a general concept of Amory.

SILY: What were all the instruments used on the record?

BC: I had some guitar, I was singing, and there's some harmonium on it, which I did a lot of processing on, lowering it octaves. I've got some really basic Korg synths. Electronic-wise, there's a program called Reactor I like to use a lot. I do it a little bit more subtly than electronic artists. I use it more for background.

SILY: I picked up the harmonium on "Summer's Last Rays"! I feel like you never truly know when you're hearing a harmonium unless it's in the album credits. Sometimes, that sound is just effects.

BC: There are two different harmoniums. When the bass comes in, that's also a harmonium, but I knocked it down a couple octaves and put it through some phaser. It has a grinding bass tone to it. This is actually one of the few Six Organs records with bass guitar on it. Unless it's an electric record with a band, there's never really been bass guitar. I was really inspired by Naomi Yang's bass playing in Galaxie 500 and how it's more melodic. I told her that, too.

SILY: On "Theophany Song", are you playing piano?

BC: Yeah, that's at my friend's house. I just wanted to play a little melody.

SILY: Was this your first time using JJ Golden for mastering?

BC: I've worked with JJ before. He did Ascent and a few others. I particularly wanted to work with him this time because I had just gotten that Masayuki Takayanagi box set on Black Editions and saw he had done that. I have the original CDs, and I thought he did such an amazing job that I wanted to work with him again.

SILY: Is that common for you, that you think of people to work with and you dig a record they just worked on and it clicks for you?

BC: That's the first time I had just heard something and thought, "Oh, I gotta work with this person." I usually have a few mastering engineers I work with and think, "What would be good for them?" or, "What does this sound like?" I usually like to send the more rock-oriented stuff to JJ, but I was just feeling it this time.

SILY: Have you played these songs live?

BC: The instrumental "Pilar" I have been playing since 2019. That's the oldest song on the record. I did do one show last September where I played a couple of these songs live. I have some ideas on how to work it out. It will be a solo acoustic show, but I [hope] to make some new sounds so it's not so straightforward. One thing about this record is I tried to write songs in the same tuning. On previous records, I used a lot of tunings, and it was a real pain to try to play the songs live. I did write this record with the idea that most of these songs would be able to be done live.

SILY: What have you been listening to, watching, or reading lately?

BC: I just got the Emily Robb-Bill Nace split LP. I just saw her live a couple nights ago. The latest one on Freedom To Spend from Danielle Boutet, which is awesome. Freedom To Spend is a go-to label for me. Also, this split with Karen Constance and Dylan Nyoukis.

I've been reading Buddhist Bubblegum by Matt Marble, about Arthur Russell and the systems he developed, which I knew nothing about. His compositional systems have almost a Fluxus influence. The subtitle is Esotericism in the Creative Process of Arthur Russell, so it's also about his Buddhism as well. When I first heard about the book, I didn't know if I needed to get it, but I heard an interview with Matt about the detailed systems Arthur Russell came up with. It gives me a whole new level of appreciation for him. It's so good.

SILY: Did you listen to Picture of Bunny Rabbit?

BC: It's so good, especially the title track. It seems like when he has us plugged into some kind of effects or delay, he's switching the different sounds on it, but it makes the instrument go in so many different areas. To me, the title track is worth the price of the entire record, even though the whole thing is good.

SILY: What else is next for you? Are you constantly writing?

BC: This is gonna be a very busy year release-wise. I have a couple more things coming out. It's hard to write stuff because I always think it'll take so long for it to come out. I'm halfway working on something, but I have no idea when it will come out.

[yourbleedingh3art]

I think i know the dark as well as u do i think i know it very well

[revilermpls]

Photos: Horse Lords At Icehouse

Horse Lordswith Ka BairdIcehouse, Minneapolis, MNMarch 12th, 2024

[therarefied]

Mary Lattimore's “And Then He Wrapped His Wings Around Me” ft. Meg Baird & Walt McClements

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

Live Concert Photography: Mdou Moctar with Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore and Rough Francis at Capital One City Parks Foundation SummerStage 7/29/23

Live Concert Photography: Mdou Moctar with Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore and Rough Francis at SummerStage 7/29/23 @CapitalOne @SummerStage @CPFNYC @CentralParkNYC @dkcnews @MdouMoctar @matadorrecords @meglingbaird @marylattimore @RoughFrancis

Live Concert Photography: Mdou Moctar with Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore and Rough Francis at Capital One City Parks Foundation SummerStage 7/29/23 Late last month, I was at Capital One City Parks Foundation SummerStage in Central Park to catch the sort of eclectic bill that I really love: Nigerien singer/songwriter and master guitar shredder Mdou Moctar played a mind-bending headlining set…

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year 2023, Part One

Meg Baird photo by Rachael Cassells

It’s halfway through another year, and while that doesn’t seem possible, the trail of good-to-excellent releases argues otherwise. We celebrate as always by picking our favorites and then forcing them on unsuspecting colleagues. The Dusted Mid-Year Swap is almost entirely random, with assignments picked from a bowl and limited options for getting out of them. It’s also one of our most popular features, both internally and among our readers.

Although we don’t pursue consensus — and in fact, quite the opposite, we value the diversity of taste and opinion among our writers — some years we have a clear winner. Out of deference to our most dominant mid-year artist ever, we call them “this year’s Heron Oblivion.” In 2023, that’s especially appropriate since the artist that won the mid-year is also in Heron Oblivion. That’s Meg Baird, whose Furling captured the affection of a broad spectrum of writers. Yo La Tengo was the closest behind, with punkish The Drin and drone-experimental Natural Information Society also in the hunt.

But while we agree sometimes, at others we don’t, and you’ll notice that a good sprinkling of writers were not entirely on board with their assignments. That’s okay. It’s good for us to hear stuff we don’t like, too. It’s part of a balanced musical diet.

We begin with the first half of the alphabet with artists from Algiers to James Ilgenfritz represented. Check back tomorrow for the second half and the next day for our writers’ lists.

Algiers — Shook (Matador)

Shook by Algiers

Who nominated it? Andrew Forell

Did we review it? Yes, Andrew wrote, “Switching organically between punk, gospel, soul, hip hop, jazz and afro-futurism, Algiers speaks directly to a world under siege.”

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

On this tour de force, Algiers doesn’t so much blend African American musical styles as find the sinews and tendons and veins that connect them. “Everybody Shatter” alone morphs from minimalist techno beat to menacing rock to old-school hip hop shout-crossing call and response, and that’s just the opening salvo. The guests run the gamut from current hip hop phenom Billy Woods to DC punk mainstay Mark Cisneros to free-jazz sax experimenter Patrick Shiroishi, with a startlingly moving bit of poetry at the end from Glory Fires front man Lee Bains. “Comment #2” records an unnamed young woman wondering why the discourse about black America focuses so much on suffering, rather than the hope and joy and resilience that her community also manifests. Shook soaks up all elements of that multi-faceted experience, with fierce joy, unrelenting honesty and surges of pure musical exhilaration. Powerful stuff.

Arrowounds — In the Octopus Pond (Lost Tribe Sound)

In The Octopus Pond by ARROWOUNDS

Who nominated it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it? Yes, Tim wrote, “The sounds and how they’re treated go a long way towards mustering a unique, shadowy atmosphere, which is sustained throughout the album’s 45 minutes.”

Christian Carey’s take: 

Ambient’s revival has lasted longer than its initial incarnations and cast a wider net as to the music it encompasses. Releases like In the Octopus Pond by Arrowounds (Ryan Chamberlain) demonstrate why this can be all to the good. An example is the use of a repeated post-rock riff, sustained synth lines, and samples of water in “Spectral Colours of Science,” a standout. In another melange,“Phosphene Silver Abyss” pits a loping bass riff against glissando-filled distorted electric guitar and subdued keyboards. An engaging listen throughout.

Meg Baird — Furling (Drag City)

Furling by Meg Baird

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Tim Clarke wrote, “Welcome to one of the first great records of the young year.”

Jason Bivins’ take:

I’ve actually been living with and loving this record for many months now. Baird’s got an extraordinary voice and a real knack for both songwriting and arranging. There’s a compelling argument to be made that Furling is her strongest recording. From the outset, it’s clear that this is music that is intimate and reflective and admirably uncluttered. Chords or arpeggios shine through without excess, with gentle strumming and a light touch on the snare making a nice slide for Baird’s angelic voice to glide down. Often she layers her voice, harmonizing way up there over gentle guitar, but she also sinks right in between the chords here and there. Some tracks, like “Star Hill Song,” dial into conventional song-form more than others, but there’s always a gorgeous blend of the earthy and the ethereal. Star-skirling guitars glide atop a tasty pulse, or spare piano grounding textural clouds, always focused on Baird’s somewhat breathy voice and distinctive vibrato. In all my listening, I don’t even focus too much on the lyrics, which only float up for me on occasion. I just allow myself to be hypnotized by the unpretentious beauty of this music.

Big Blood — First Aid Kit (Ba Da Bing/Feeding Tube Records)

First Aid Kit by Big Blood

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? Yes, Bill Meyer said, “Their production has a steam-pressed quality, as though the background instrumental sounds had all been ironed onto the tape. Voices and drums, however, jump out of the mix, which suits the songs’ sturdy hooks.”

Ray Garraty’s take:

The opening track “In My Head” might fool you that this is a modern take on rockabilly and 1990s indie pop, something that is not easy to stomach in large quantities. But things change drastically after that, with “Haunted”, possibly the best track on the whole CD. A bit of Sparks, a bit of Kate Bush, a bit of your favorite bedroom pop band, Big Blood is a mix of all that but with a twist. First Aid Kit sounds lo-fi enough not to be too grandiose and tiring and clean enough not to fall into the category of bedroom rumblings made for a few friends. The choruses are haunting you, indeed, and stick in mind for days. It closes with a track called “Weird Road Pt. 1,” and it is a weird road for sure. Weird and just great.

BIG|BRAVE — nature morte (Thrill Jockey)

nature morte by BIG|BRAVE

Who picked it? Jonathan Shaw

Did we review it? Yes, Jonathan said, “The title of nature morte might reference death, but this music is frightfully, joyfully and overwhelmingly alive.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

There’s heavy music that attempts to pulverize your grey matter into oblivion, and then there’s nature morte. This is music that gets under your skin with its dual guitar wall of noise and its sludgy rhythms. What’s really arresting is the intensity of Robin Wattie’s vocals, and how she transitions from a measured attack into all-out screaming almost instantaneously. I don’t usually thirst for music on the heavier end of the spectrum, but I found myself strangely attracted to this record. Images of EMA covering Nirvana’s “Endless, Nameless” kept swirling through my head as I digested the record for the first time. The maelstrom conjured by the two guitars, the pounding of the drums, and Wattie’s almost pleading vocals coalesce into a near-crystalline molasses that somehow manages to flow with enough sweetness to appeal to all manner of listener. Even if you tend to enjoy softer sounds, you should give this album a spin. 

Cellow — Ghetto Takeover (Jugg$treet)

Who picked it? Ray Garraty

Did we review it? No

Jason Bivins’ take:

An EP should be concise, a marker of method and style on the journey to completing a larger project. Or, it should whet the appetite by introducing a new voice, the promise of distinction. Cellow’s six-song, eighteen-minute slice from earlier this year is, by contrast, somehow meandering. On the final track, he proposes: “Let’s do a tape in a fucking night.” Which, apparently, is actually how this project came together. And oof, does it sound it. The production is dated and drab, the beats pedestrian, and the rhymes predictably grandiose and misanthropic in equal measure. For example, he boasts, “that’s a 2012 Benz, not a spaceship” and “I just got $200 for an 8th of Splenda.” He fat-shames women, disses Obama and otherwise romps over his “clown-ass” competitors. If only he were actually compelling as a verbal stylist. But no: after yet another “Strange Fruit” sample on “Ain’t Come to Play,” he fumbles the attempted double-time spitting. It’s embarrassingly undercooked and awkward, especially the two tracks without Rio Da Yung OG.

Elkhorn — On the Whole Universe in All Directions (Centripetal Force)

On The Whole Universe In All Directions by Elkhorn

Who nominated it? Bill Meyer

Did we review it? No.

Christian Carey’s take:

For their latest recording, On the Whole Universe in All Directions, Elkhorn (acoustic 12-string guitarist Jesse Shephard and electric guitarist/percussionist Drew Gardner) explore each principal direction of the compass (North-South-East-West) on four tracks. The vibraphone is a new addition, and the textures created by vibes and 12-string in combination on “North” and “South” are mesmerizing. Splash cymbals and alternate scales provide a (perhaps inevitable) exoticism to “East.” Correspondingly, “West” shares minimal folk inflections and a winsome melody. Elkhorn has executed a successful transformation.

Robert Forster — The Candle and the Flame (Tapete)

The Candle And The Flame by Robert Forster

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes. Andrew Forell wrote, “Forster’s observational directness and simple language are always in service to the deep feeling in his songs and few better imbue the quotidian joys of domestic life and the power of memory with such poetry.”

Patrick Masterson’s take:

Not being much of an ardent Go-Betweens fan, I went into The Candle and the Flame with little expectation beyond the notion that Forster would be chronicling the relationship with his wife, who was diagnosed with and got treated for ovarian cancer around the three years these songs were conceived. What I can’t help but admire is how he throws you akimbo right away with “She’s a Fighter,” which attacks the illness directly and immediately (with the help of the whole family, even!) in a rollicking folk-punk style. Duly done and dusted, Forster turns his attention to the deeper reserves of their personal history, reminiscing about meetings in Germany and walking to school in the ‘60s and the general weathering of life in a more relaxed, fittingly contemplative manner. You can tell without knowing anymore than I did that he’s been doing this long enough that songwriting comes naturally to him by now no matter the topic — an artist with an innate gift honed over decades that shines best at its most unvarnished.

Asher Gamedze — Turbulence and Pulse (International Anthem/Mushroom Hour Half Hour)

Turbulence and Pulse by Asher Gamedze

Who picked it? Andrew Forell

Did we review it? Nope

Ian Mathers’ take:

This is a very good record that I feel like I got a few mistaken impressions of! The blurb on the Bandcamp page talks a lot about percussion in a way that made me think this was going to be more beat-centric, and then the opening almost-title track “Turbulence’s Pulse” does go in that direction, combined with a speech about the intersection of rhythms, history and politics. It kind of rules, and then the record pivots on “Wynter Time” to what sounds to my (admittedly not-super-genre-savvy) ears like a pretty straightforward jazz track. Not that Gamedze’s drumming isn’t vital to those proceedings, and it continues to be impressive throughout, but we get a lot more of that latter mode over these 80 minutes (including 20 minutes of live versions of tracks from this album, which may be catnip to real heads but to relative novice me don’t stand out enough to want both). But neither “it’s a bit long for me” or “it’s not exactly what I expected” are big complaints, and they’re more than outweighed by the quality of Gamedze’s playing and the rest of the ensemble, especially Robin Fassie on trumpet and Buddy Wells on tenor saxophone, who wound up drawing a lot of my focus. When things get moving on “Locomotion” and “Out Stepped Zim” the results are great, even if I could also love a record more directly in line with “Turbulence’s Pulse.” 

Jana Horn — The Window Is the Dream (No Quarter)

The Window Is The Dream by Jana Horn

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it? Yes; Tim wrote, “Horn weaves in an undeniable magic. Much like the soap bubble on the album’s cover, hold this music up to the light and it refracts a surprising array of beautiful colors.”

Jonathan Shaw’s take: The variety of wispy, delicate, singer-songwriter music that Jana Horn makes generally puts me to sleep—a fact for which I am grateful, since prolonged exposure to qualities like “wispy” and “delicate” isn’t a happy event for me. And to be sure, Horn’s mannered, near-expressionless alto—full of little gulps and breathy intonations that are simultaneously arch and bloodless—is mildly irritating. But setting those subjective responses aside, there are things to admire on The Window Is the Dream. Horn has a distinct compositional sensibility, which is affecting in direct proportion to its spareness. See the music of “Old Friend,” which skitters and halts, but maintains its sense of grace and composure. The arrangement builds some momentum, and when Horn cuts it all off, with peremptory force, it’s satisfying. Throughout the record, Horn demonstrates that musical sense for timing and mood; see especially the overlay of dissonances that emerges after the careful combinations and constructions of the opening three minutes of “In Between.” But for this listener, Horn’s singing cancels those urgencies and complexities. I get it: the contrast between her prettily blank vocals and the music’s by-turns dreamy and antsy textures will please some. But these precise, calculated gestures don’t make any magic for me.

James Ilgenfritz—#entrainments (Infrequent Seams)

#entrainments by James Ilgenfritz

Who nominated it? Christian Carey

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Here’s a record that’s well within my wheelhouse, but which I had skipped over on account of there being a lot of music out there. It turns out that #entrainments deeply rewards investigation. It succeeds at being an engaging listen as well as formally creative. Bassist/composer James Ilgenfritz hasn’t just crafted some appealing melodies, he has made them part of a system of meta-responses that can be restructured on the fly. His combo, which includes drummer Gerry Hemingway, alto saxophonist Angelica Niescier and cellist Nathan Bontrager, is tuned into the multiple levels at which this music needs to work, and sounds equally persuasive realizing the cut-and-thrust of “#frontmatter,” which reminds me in a good way of old Henry Threadgill records, and the chamber combo with dissenting drums treatment of “#squarequotes.” A comprehensive review of this album would delve deep into its backstory of health travails and compositional strategizing, but since we’re keeping it brief, suffice to say that if you like your jazz sturdy, nuanced, and inclusive, #entrainments will deliver the goods, and follow them up with a bounty of bonuses.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Meg Baird + Chris Forsyth, Cafe Nine, New Haven, Connecticut, October 26, 2022

True story — my first exposure to the guitar stylings of Chris Forsyth came via Meg Baird's classic 2011 LP Seasons On Earth. Which is one of the reasons that it's cool that these old Philly phriends have been touring as a sweet double-bill in recent years. I pointed you in the direction of a tape from the Detroit stop of their fall 2022 run a little while back, and now, we've got another excellent recording from the ever-rewarding Alex Butterfield Archives. Thank you again, Alex! Keep it coming.

Accompanied by guitarist Charlie Saufley and the killer rhythm section of Doug McCombs and Ryan Jewell, Meg kicks things off with a set that's heavy on her most recent (though then-unreleased) LP Furling. A good thing — that album was one of my 2023 favorites, a collection that features some of Baird's best songs yet. It's great to hear them in a live setting, with Saufley's sensitive/imaginative leads complementing Meg's keys, voice and guitar. They wrap it all up by inviting Forsyth onstage for "Will You Follow Me Home?", Charlie and Chris getting into a nice Whitten/Young/"Cowgirl In The Sand" kinda interplay.

McCombs and Jewell remain on duty for Forsyth's subsequent set, which showcases the guitarist's most recent LP Evolution Here We Come. As per usual, the sterling six-string work is the main draw — but Doug and Ryan threaten to steal the show; check out the churning groove the pair kick up on the closing "Robot Energy Machine." Unreal!

[the-inevitable-minor-fires]

Damon and Naomi with Meg Baird playing a song from With Ghost that I never dreamed I'd hear live. The moments with all three voices were like ambrosia, like the Bee Gees, life itself.

[genericamentegiuseppe]

Meg Baird - Furling

Il Lato A di "Meddle" se fosse stato composto da Jacqui McShee e Birdie Busch.

Etichetta: Drag CityPaese: USAAnno: 2023 Eccovi qualche link per ascoltarvi l’album suddetto: • BANDCAMP: https://megbaird.bandcamp.com/album/furling • SPOTIFY: https://open.spotify.com/album/5FgYvOLxsNHb1oh29LeOMc • APPLE MUSIC: https://music.apple.com/it/artist/meg-baird/254431414

[fard-rock-blog]

Meg Baird | Furling

Etichetta: Drag City Tracce: 9 – Durata: 43:46 Genere: Psych-Folk, Cantautori Sito: megbaird.com  Voto: 7/10 Ascrivibile al nu-folk di estrazione acustica, Meg Baird arriva proprio dal mondo della canzone tradizionale americana, con esperienze con gli Espers e gli Heron Oblivion coi quali ha sviluppato una modalità espressiva che immerge le ballate acustiche in soluzioni alchemiche e alteranti…