As a graphic designer, I got a kick out of this bit of obsession. See the full story below:
What’s the furthest you’ve gone for a bit of memorabilia?
Oct 222012
Slim Jade
Oct 122012
I might take it on the chin for this one, if my spouse’s reaction to Godspeed You! Black Emperor is anything to judge by. Ms. Jade is very vocal in her dislike of this Montreal collective. You know how some people turn green and can’t even be in the same room as tequila after having gotten sick on it? It’s that kind of reaction. And that makes me scratch my head.
So, I don’t know where RTH-ers are gonna stand on 20-minute long instrumentals of epic guitar glory, seasick violins, hypnotic bagpipe drones, stately drumming, insurrectionist soundbites and the loose-tight-loose woven compositions from the enigmatic and inscrutable GYBE. The time is right, however, since they’ve just released new material.
I say they’re sublime. Taking that odd name from a 70’s Japanese biker documentary, and subsisting on a word-of-mouth congregation, they play live with all the aplomb of a professional chamber group, while grimy and arcane film clips collage the stage. Talk about a zoned-out audience!
Motherfucker=Redeemer (Part One)
The sound is demanding, and also ambient. Difficult to unwrap, hard to find lucidity. Godspeed excels in symphonic movements that gather clouds and bloom, inviting periods of private focus and daze, are best for beatitude and elation.
Where do you stand? Rapturous or Overwrought?
Oct 052012
If you’re a sucker for the sound of a slide on a National resonator guitar, and you were sitting at a bar havin’ a few beers with Dylan, Robert Johnson, Hendrix, Johnny Winter, Ry Cooder, and Chet Baker, you’d have to scoot over for Chris Whitley.
The Texan born Whitley, once described as looking like “Kate Moss in a wifebeater,” is one of those tragic figures whose death in his prime cemented his legendary status as a bluesman. It’s evident just from the sound of him that he has a hellhound on his trail, and he’s applied that feeling and introspection to several solo recordings as well as work with Arto Lindsay, Daniel Lanois, Cassandra Wilson, Shawn Colvin, Mike Watt, Joe Henry, and Medeski, Martin & Wood.
There’s something confessional about his playing and his singing. When I hear his notes and his whispered croak of a voice, he seems to be finding his way as he goes. It almost seems he’s attacking each chord and note, separating them into distinct entities to mine even the most minute musical potential. His eerie recordings divulge and wrangle with his demons, and his work sounds like hard-won wisdom.
Okay, let those opinions fly.
Sep 302012
I thought there had been a thread about this subject awhile ago, but I guess not. If not, then the time has come to honor the iconic drum intro to The Ronette‘s “Be My Baby.” You know the one: Bum-ba-bum-BOOM!
Phil Spector added echo to drummer Hal Blaine‘s bass drum, and everyone’s tried to imitate it and capture its Wall of Sound grandiosity ever since. How many imitations, renditions, samples and variations are there?
Sep 242012
The facts in the case follow thus: In 1895, Lee Shelton, a pimp also known as Stack Lee, killed one William Lyons in a fight concerning a hat. Through that wonderful American machinery known as folklore, we went from murder to myth.
Stack Lee, Stagger Lee, Stagolee, Stack O’Lee, The Midnight Rambler, The Crawling King Snake, The Brown-Eyed Handsome Man, Superfly, he goes by many names and he recurs in the oral traditions of song as a metaphor that structures the male ethos, black as well as white. Stagolee has taken shape as ballad, as blues, as jazz, as rap, as epic, as folk song, and as rock and roll.
He’s the “bad man”, the rebel, the counterculture hero, and the perfect figure for us to mine our collective knowledge of song to find his instances. Any variant of his name is acceptable, and let’s see how far his legend stretches (á la the examples set by Mick Jagger, John Lee Hooker, Chuck Berry, and Curtis Mayfield, above).
Sep 092012
I first came across the then-16 year old Archy Marshall via the video below, and it just blew me away with raw, choked-up emotion and Billy Bragg-like vocals coming out of this Dickensian Rick Astley urchin.
Working under the moniker Zoo Kid, this little snot-nosed wunderkind cranked out a batch of ’80s-tinged punky, jazzy, folky, rockabilly, dubby little ditties on his Bandcamp site. As a seasoned 17 year old, he changed to King Krule, but he continues to stay true to his aesthetic. Which is what? A thuggish Everything But The Girl? Paul Weller fronting a garage band? Joe Strummer meets Gang Starr? Amped Aztec Camera?
I want to slap this tone-deaf funky little hooligan on the back. You go, kid!
Sep 032012
I’ve always championed The Wolfgang Press. I’m not sure where your basic RTH-er is going to stand with this challenging lot. It has been said that “if you filled a room with Talking Heads fans, got them drunk and played a few Wolfgang Press discs, loudly, the congregation would go ape before they had time to rescue their cool.”
Weighty and primal, always changing, they were cast from PiL-type gloom backgrounds but there has always been something darkly humorous about this trio. Lead ranter Michael Allen was a brooding goofball who comes across like a dreadlocked Nick Cave. His spoken-howl lyrics and the band’s bottom-heavy, textured experiments moved from cacophony to minimal to soul-tinged to (admittedly not so successful) dance-floor funk.
TWP is not for the easily intimidated. Swaggering but self-doubting, full of fire and brimstone, choosing odd songs to cover, permeated by 4AD atmosphere, and always visceral, always confrontational…what say ye?
