The Perusal #44: Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkesta, Matt Donovan, Baldruin, Spindle Ensemble, Marty Isenberg…
June 13, 2023
Dominic Valvona’s Eclectic Reviews Spot (Unless stated otherwise, all releases are available to buy now)
Photo Credit: Mark Weber
Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra ‘60’
(The Village) 14th June 2023
Serving the South Central L.A. Black community from within for six decades (and counting), the late Horace Tapscott and his preservation Arkestra ensemble captured and reflected the social and racial injustices of that oppressed community with a righteous politically conscious and radical jazz style blueprint; a documentation, but also self-reliant stand against the state’s brutality and economic suppression.
Two decades on from his passing and Tapscott’s vision has been handed down to a new generation; led in the new century by Mekala Session, scion of Arkestra stalwart alto Michael Session. More or less each incarnation, from a sixty year timeframe (hence that album title) is represented on this new celebratory collection; released by the ensemble’s own label imprint, The Village.
For a platform that continuously swelled its ranks with untold talent from the American West Coast and beyond (oft member, the trombonist and Tribe hub co-founder, Phil Ranelin is synonymous as a mainstay of the Detroit scene for example), and fermented connections culturally throughout the country, inspiring many, the Pan African Arkestra’s recordings on wax are few and far between. Most of the performances on this compilation journey through the years were collated from home-recordings; many of which have previously never been aired before. And the majority of those come from taped concerts in the L.A. arena, the exception being a summer of ’95 performance at the Moers Festival in Germany, during a period of “regrouping”. Some, believed missing, have been literally unearthed from the Ark’s archive; with even the lineup roll call having to be cross-referenced at times: and still not a 100% sure even then.
The Pan African Arkestra exists as a live entity; whether that was playing each weekend in the formative years at the South Park bandstand or, in the line of hostile LAPD fire as they played on a flatbed truck parked right in the middle of the street during the ’65 Watts riots (or “revolt” as its framed from the frustrated, put-upon Black community suffering inequality, little or no representation). In chronological order, the 60 album encapsulates each transformation of the troupe, beginning with the fifteen-minute long tribute to the ‘heart of the Tapscott family’ Pearline Fisher, or Gram Pearl “to those who loved her”. A grand matriarch, at the very centre of the family home, watching all the goings ons, including the band members arriving up the drive for rehearsals in the garage, Gram Pearl’s name was immortalised on the 1961 home recorded ‘The Golden Pearl’. Reverence shines through this early performance that seems to bridge the late 50s jazz of Gillespie, Ellington, Coltrane and the Savoy label with the coming age of the 60s Black consciousness and spiritual enlightenment. A “likely configuration” of Tapscott on a loose Oscar Peterson flow of barrel and saloon piano, Arthur Blythe and either Jimmy Woods or Guido Sinclair doubling up on saxophone, Lester Robertson on fluttered trombone, David Bryant on spoke-like and brushed double-bass and Bill Madison on swing-time and brushed drums mark one of the first lineups of the burgeoning Arkestra. As it turned out, pianist and conductor Tapscott was right to jump off Lionel Hampton’s Big Band tour bus that year; walking all the way back home, pissed but motivated to grow something new.
In the “pressure cooker” tumult of South Central L.A. a close-knit handful of artists gravitated to the beacon; at first going under the UGMA (Underground Musicians Association) abbreviation, this initial lineup included (amongst many others) the vocalist Linda Hill, drummer Donald Dean and the already noted bassist Bryant (who’ll crop up quite a lot during the course of this ensemble’s history) and saxophonist Woods. Many would appear on that compilation opener.
Although not until much later, the obvious influence/inspiration of Saturn’s cultural ambassador in Earth, Sun Ra, most be noted. Tapscott himself, easily an acolyte of that cosmic spirit, pointed out the differences between the two Arkestras; the original envisioned as an ark travelling through space, the other, a “cultural safe house for music” down here on terra firma. Whilst Sun Ra looked to the stars for an escape to some colour-blind society on a distant world, Tapscott’s troupe wanted to be amongst the people: screw the space race.
That blossoming unit found itself under FBI surveillance as a new decade beckoned; much of that paranoia down to the ensemble’s support for the Black Panthers. From the cusp of that decade, the 70s, there’s a recording of the Ark at Widney High School. With a far wider, expanded lineup and the Sarah Vaughan like commanding, but also dreamy, freely moving vocals of Hill and, so it seems, only a recurring Tapscott and Robertson, a lot of new faces appear on the fluctuating ‘Little A’s Chant’. A loose intoxication, a tamed wilderness permeates a mixture of The Lightman Plus One’s Cold Bair, Tyrone Washington’s Roots and the influence of Philip Cohran.
Photo Credit: Mark Weber
With the war paint on, entering the over-commodified decade of the 80s, the Ark, once more changing the roll call, fashion a piano heavy kaftan wearing fire out of Somaya “Peaches” Hasson’s ‘Nation Rising’. Turning in a Last Poets and Leon Thomas vocal performance, Juan Grey (aka Jujigwa) is a man in a hurry: he’s got “work to do”, “rising a nation”. Whistling and swinging down a boardwalk paved Nile on a Yusef Lateef and Pharaoh Sanders vibe, we got a double-front of both willowy flutes (Adele Sebastian and Dadisi Komolafa to thank for that) and altoists (Sabir Mateen delivering a honked and dynamic solo, with Gary Biar as foil), and the rattled congas of Moises Obligacion alongside the mini crescendo spiraling drums of Billy Hinton. Phew!
Forward again, and to the backdrop of an L.A. in flames, sparked by the Rodney King miscarriage of justice, the Ark are to be found on one of their rare trips to Europe; playing a concert at the Moers Festival in the summer of ’95. Regrouping with the help of a returning Jesses Sharps on soprano sax, Tapscott shares piano duties with Nate Morgan and a whole lot of brass on ‘The Ballad Of Deadwood Dick’. I will however name check Arthur Blythe on alto sax and recent converts Michael Session (on tenor), Charles Owens (also on tenor), Fundi Legohn (French horn), William Roper (tuba), Steve Smith (trumpet) and Thorman Green (trombone). An integral founding brother of the Ark, the already mentioned David Bryant is back on double bass, but sharing his duties with fellow bassist Roberto Miranda, whilst doubling up on the drums is the shared union of Fritz Wise and Sonship Theus. All together they conjure up another Egyptian tapestry whilst huffing and in bird-like illusion build up a brass heavy swing and sway. A galloping percussive rhythm (coconuts denoting a hoof-like fast trot) creates a travelling caravan vibe, as the melody, swells and punctuations evoke Skies Of America Ornate and touch of Bernstein.
The new century, a decade on from the death of their mentor and founder Tapscott, and the troupe is under a new steward and embracing another in-take of rightful minded jazz players. From a 2009 recording at the Jazz Bakery (pastries and bread with jazz, what’s not to like), with only a familiar Wise on drums (joined by Bill Madison), Sharp on soprano, Legohn on French horn and Smith on trumpet, we hear a Philip Cohran type spiritual and political fanfare for “justice”. L.A. notable Dwight Trible (recently giving divine voice to Kahil El’Zabar’s Ethnic Heritage Ensemble) is on expressive conscious-unloaded and right-on vocal duties, and the already mentioned Detroit icon Phil Ranelin can be heard on characteristic trombone. A riled and ached, seething indignation with shades of Sun Ra and the Pharaoh, ‘Justice’ is as free as it is fueled by rightful grievances.
The most recent performance, a decade later, is the Zebulon (in L.A. again) convert vision of ‘Dem Folks’. It’s conducted this time by another convert, the Egyptian-American-Muslim trombonist Zehkeraya El-Magharbel, who turns out to be a sound fit. The cast is further expanded with a quartet of spiritual rousing and more Gyrgory Ligeti otherworldly choral vocalists (Aankah Neel, Tamina Johnson-Lawson, Qur’an Shaheed and Maia, who’s also on flute), oboes, bass clarinets, a good showing of horns, and this time out, the keyboard skills of Brian Hargrove. A real fusion of dynamic parts, it begins with a virtuoso drilled, pummeled, slow to fast, percussive and drum introduction of rolls and cymbal hissing shimmers (ala Billy Cobham), before, at first, hitting a dissonance of wild drum mimicked voices. A soul-jazz groove finally lands after going through various changes, from fluted Lateef to echoes of Prince Lasha’s Search For Tomorrow communion with Herbie Hancock and a tumult of incantation and oscillated vocals. An untethered swell of orchestral jazz in the anointed light of Sun Ra and the wisdom of the ancients, ‘Dem Folks’ is the earthly community taken to anthemic highs. What a fitting, electrifying performance to mark the Pan Afrikan Arkestra’s newest incarnation; twenty years on from its pioneer’s death, the baton passed on and, as it obviously proves, is still in safe hands. The future is indeed bright for this long-running ensemble.
The 60 album proves an important preservation of a self-reliant social activist institution, integral to the community in which it serves, teaches and rises up. A great encapsulation of that story, musical journey and the changes it has gone through, this will both excite the Ark’s fans and newcomers to the cause.
Spindle Ensemble & Evergreen Club Contemporary Gamelan ‘Live In Toronto’
(Hidden Notes)
A congruous union of modern classical music and gamelan, Bristol’s Spindle Ensemble quartet and the Toronto Evergreen Club Contemporary Gamelan octet transport the listener to a blossomed, lush and evocative West Java landscape on their EP of both live and recorded studio performances.
In what proves to be an intuitive collaboration – the results of a chance meeting between the Spindle’s Harriet Riley and Evergreen’s Christopher Hull whilst both studying gamelan in Bali -, both partners respect and accentuate the qualities of their chosen forms and inspirations as they meld and weave together instruments from the West and Indonesian East. A balance is struck between contemporary explorations, probes and the timeless across three tracks. The gamelan ‘degung’ family of metallophones and bamboo instruments dance and bob along to and twinkle alongside the Spindle’s harp brushes, bulb-like note dripping marimba and vibraphone, sympathetic-bowed cello and violins, and deft subtle spells and waves of piano.
Written by the Spindle’s composer-pianist and harpist Daniel Inzani, the opening patter cascade of mallet notes and tinkles ‘Lucid Living’, was recorded at the Evergreen’s rehearsal space in downtown Toronto. A light enchanted dance of plucked and picked strings across lily pads, with an air of the willowed fluted pastoral, there’s an almost romantic but simultaneous closed-eyes, deep in thought moodiness to this first performance of adroit musicianship.
Also penned by a Spindle member, Harriet Riley’s mythological-loaded ‘Orpheus’ is part of the two group’s live performance at the city’s 918 Bathurst Street Centre For Culture, Arts, Media And Education – it must be noted at this point that the Bristol quartet travelled to the Evergreen’s backyard to foster this project, spending weeks rehearsing the repertoire before that inaugural live date. Barefoot in jungle temples, the Hellenic bard-poet (an Argonaut and famed survivor of Hade’s underworld) is planted down in the Indonesian exotic; wandering across an uninterrupted proscenium score of various Southeast Asian flavours. All the while accompanied by a soundtrack of pressing repeated chords, metallic chimes and drones, the arched and bowed. At times it’s a rasped mizzle, at others, a slow-paced rhythmic joy or flight that feels almost improvised if not free to fellow its natural path.
The final performance, ‘Open Fifths Gardens’, was composed by the Evergreen’s Andrew Timar and is another exotic allurement of the East. It suggested the dusk hour to me, and evoked the strings of Simon McCorry and Anne Müller: that push of classical instruments made to sound more contemporary and alive if abstract; not just read off the classical cannon score sheet but swelling up with a less guided, personal feel for the time, space and direction of travel in that moment.
In short: the gamelan sound is opened up further and spread wider into the arena of contemporary chamber and symphonic classical music, to conjure up an atmospheric kind of melodious and stirring theatre.
Matt Donovan ‘Sleep Until The Storm Ends’
Marking three in a row of annual Spring-time delivered albums, the drummer-percussionist turn multi-instrumentalist solo artist Matt Donovan opens up his personal universe to the world. In the face of political, social discourse and ruin, lawlessness, loss and anxiety Donovan captures the evocative moments and scenes we all often take for granted; turning nighttime walks, the memories of loved ones into something musically and sonically lasting. A time is saved for posterity even if its just for Donovan and no one else; a kind of musical photo album that represents the sentiments, therapeutic stages of a period in his life.
And yet, with such universal tragedy and dislocation, there’s always hope; the music, even when the subject matter chimes with the God awful state of affairs currently destroying the country, remain loving and kind. Those of you who seeked out the (hopefully through my recommendations) previous Habit Formation (’22) and Underwater Swimming (’21) albums will find that Sleep Until The Storm Ends shares a familiar palette of kosmische/krautrock, alt 80s and 90s and post-punk influences. And yet it feels somehow different; mature and comfortable in its skin but exploring all the while.
With propulsive-motored stints in Eat Lights Become Lights, and as a foil to Nigel Bryant in the psych-krautrock-progressive-industrial Untied Knot duo, it’s hardly surprising to hear those Germanic influences permeating this newest album: A spot of the Dingers (Klaus and Thomas) here and a bit of Michael Rother and Manuel Göttsching guitar there. On some of the more reflective tracks like ‘A Sky Full Of Hope’ and ‘Night Walking’ its Tangerine Dream and company, albeit the latter has more than a touch of soundtrack Vangelis about it too, merged with pop, jazz and 80s indie influences. Although not German, just mere cousins on the astral plane, a few of these tracks reminded me of both Syrinx and Ariel Kalma’s new age, spiritual panoramic awakenings.
This is only half the story, as Donovan also effortlessly seems to weave The Field Mice’s ‘…letting go’ with Karl Hyde, Mick Harvey (especially on the few occasions he sings), the Durruti Column, Spaceman 3 and Eno (Another Green World era on the light-effected environmental plaint ‘The Crying Earth’). In practice this results in a sort of bell-tinkled and recalled leitmotif signature unfolding of Donovan’s moods and ruminations: goodbyes too. Sometimes its dreamy and other times near cosmic with climbing scales and Fripp-like sustain and flange-fanned guitar work, synth waves and heartfelt vibrations.
Barefoot Contessa daydreams sit well with clavichord buzz splintered boogies on yet another enriching and rewarding album that slowly unfurls its understated balm of warmth and also protestation gradually over repeated plays. On the fringes certainly, a true independent diy artist, Matt Donovan is far too good to stay under the radar. Do yourselves a favour, grab a copy on bandcamp now.
Baldruin ‘Relikte aus der Zukunfti’
(Buh Records) 19th June 2023
Lying somewhere between the Reformation, hermetic, supernatural and mysterious Far East, the German electronic musician-producer Johannes Schebler simultaneously occupies a liminal past and as yet unsure future on his latest journey, Relikte aus der Zukunfti.
Just as Roedelius, Moebuis and Schnitzler’s first recorded experiments, under the Kluster title, found a home on the synonymous German church organ music label Schwann, so congruous were those early kosmische innovators “hymnal qualities” and, if removed, links to the country’s rich venerated history of religious music, Schebler’s own small Bavarian village rectory upbringing can be heard permeating this fourteen-track traverse and score.
The chime and ring of Lutheran, but also Oldfield’s tubular, bells can be heard across a both holy and unholy atmosphere of cult Italian horror, prog-rock, krautrock, new age and vague Ethnographic absorptions. The paranormal and monastic; the chthonian and Oriental are constantly drawn upon to manifest a fog of uncertainty and intrigue; occasionally delivering heightened dramatics and the chills as the music evokes hints of Goblin, Fabio Frizzi and the presence of some ungodly force.
It begins however, with the blown, sax fluted and veiled ‘Under The Counter’ soundscape, which sounds more like a gauzy apparition of Sam Rivers or Colin Stetson in a Frederic D. Oberland expanse. ‘Ride On The Silver Lizard’ meanwhile, sounds like a brassy sitar transcendental mythology of Steve Hackett, Eroc and Srgius Golowin, and the airy ebbed ‘Predestined’ captures Finis Africae and Vangelis in a cloud vapour loop. The timpani-rumbled ‘Confused’ on the other hand could be a lost Sakamoto score; the late Japanese icon entering the underworld.
Stretching the imagination whilst hinting at various mystical lands, you can detect the more experimental, serial and less musical adventurous work of Širom and Walter Smetek existing in the same space as Popol Vuh, Alejandro Jodorowsky and the melodically afflatus. You’re never quite sure where you are exactly though: nor in what time period. The ground beneath your feet is translucent, or, like an ever-changing shimmer and shiver of evaporated atmospheres. This is a knowing album that taps into its influences and church music groundings to offer a balance between the spiritual and disturbing.
Ramuntcho Matta ‘S/T’
(WEWANTSOUNDS) 16th June 2023
A sound production of contrasts; a collage of time spent in both New York City and Paris, where the graffiti’d downtown meets fourth world music explorations, Ramuntcho Matta’s absorption of those two cultural hives is a no wave and exotic theatre of diverse influences.
The younger sibling to and scion of the Matta arts brood – his father, the Chilean-born Roberto, a key if not always congruous member of the Surrealist movement with his ‘psychological morphologies’ or alien ‘inscapes’ coined subconscious manifestations, and brother, Gordon Matta-Clark, the ‘anarchitecture’ pioneer of such concepts as the ‘split’ house and various art performances -, Ramuntcho was a well-connected creative nomad who chose to plow his own furrow in the field of experimental music. He started out in this regard, in the company of such polymath avant-garde luminaries as Brion Gysin, Don Cherry and Laurie Anderson. The latter opened doors to everything New York had to offer in the late 70s and early 80s. Ramuntcho also shared a flat with scenesters Nana Vasconcelos and Arto Lindsay: living in the same building as the Talking Heads’ Chris Frantz and Tina Weymouth no less. Although tragedy would strike with the death of his brother and conceptual art icon Gordon in the late 70s, the burgeoning producer would stay on, falling in with the Mudd Club, CBGB and Danceteria in-crowd; taking note of the evolving polygenesis movements of early hip-hop, post-punk, electronica, no wave funk and more worldly sounds (from Soweto to the outback, Caribbean and Hispaniola).
But it all came together, or rather this particular project did – dusted off, remastered and given a deserving vinyl reissue by WEWANTSOUNDS – in Paris. With the CV –notably recording Don Cherry’s 1983 ‘Kick’ single for the boutique French label Mosquito, the original imprint for this self-titled album – and network expanding ever further, there would be performances with the Senegalese group Xalam and the Arabic rock group Carte de Séjour, with Rachid Taha. A residency in Lyon led to a meeting with the Algerian-born French avant-garde choreographer Régine Chopinot, who had taught dance at the city’s Croix-Rousse before forming her own experimental multimedia company. Chopinot invited Ramuntcho to compose the soundtrack to her upcoming Via show – the costume designer of which was a young aspiring Jean-Paul Gaultier.
Without seeing the actual production it’s difficult to gauge if the music was successful, complimentary or not. However, removed from that dance theatre setting the album works as a window in on a particular rich cultural exchange of ideas, sonics, sketches and soundscapes.
This ’85 released production was produced between Ramuntcho’s home and the Studio d’Auteuil in Paris; the former, a more solitary space for the album’s soundscapes and more ambient-minded pieces, the latter, a more rambunctious shared environment where all the album’s bandy and shunted no wave funk and Island life Grace Jones-esque tracks were recorded with the Stinky Toys and Elli & Jacno duo’s Elli Medeiros (on vocals), the Uruguayan percussionist Negrito Trasante, Suicide Romeo’s Frederic Cousseau (better known as Fred Goddard) on drums and Polo Lambardo on konks. That list may be extended depending on what information you read, although the WWS label and linear notes writer Jacques Denis have managed to pull together the fullest picture yet of a record hampered by misspelled band members and even a missing track listing. According to those same notes, Ramuntcho didn’t feel that the label had pushed the project or even promote it very well; hence why it disappeared: a find for crate diggers decades later.
A dance fusion of influences and ideas, this counterpoint of diverse elements opens on a gentler, almost mulling day dreamy guitar amble with the light-jazz touched ‘Gesti’. Like Marc Ribot on Iberian shores, there are a couple of these soloist moodscape pieces (see the more classical-tinged and loosened ‘Irimi Nage’). A second strand to this record’s sphere of influence is the didgeridoo sounding passages of Jon Hassell inspired sound cartography; as found on the outback resonated, barked fretboard experimental, water carrier poured ‘Avatar’, and mbira tine, funnel blowing, freight train honked primitive dance music spot ‘Zoique 3’.
The action sprawls across both the NYC and Paris underground on tracks like the shunting cut-up and counterbalance of discombobulated Art Of Noise and a repeated sweeter voiced spell of African or French-Polynesian Island song, on the ‘Sassam Kitaki’ switch. Most surprising is the fluid, bandy amalgamated hip 80s shining ‘Hukai’, which merges Casino Music with Orange Juice, Grace Jones, Lounge Lizards, Talking Heads and the sunny township polyrhythms of South Africa. ‘All Those Years’ in contrast, sounds like Saw Delight era Can rubbing shoulders with a reflectively blue XTC.
Also, in addition to shades of Dunkelziffer, Populaire Mechanik, Don Cherry (of course), Annie Anxiety and the Pop Group, there’s an exotic fauna and animalistic soundscape of French-Arabia, Africa and the Americas, to be found suffused amongst the electrified disjointed and vibrated no wave funky free-play.
I must confess, this album totally passed me by. I wasn’t even aware of it. Although only briefly, I even studied both Roberto and Gordon Matta when I was an art student, but had no idea there was another equally talented member of the clan. Hearing it now makes sense, so much of its makeup integral and over-used in the last two decades as the 80s becomes this generations’ 60s. There are some great eclectic hybrids and even no wave dance tunes to be found. Everything gels perfectly on this evolving, changing production; from the bendy to frazzled; atmospheric to off-kiltered. Ramuntcho’s theatre dance soundtrack is a complimentary bedfellow to Sakamoto’s computer disc experiments of the same(ish) period, released a while back on the WWS label. A great revived lost fusion from the avant-garde funk and no wave cannon.
Marty Isenberg ‘The Way I Feel Inside’
7th July 2023
It’s a name synonymous with whimsy poignancy, a signature frame and colour palette, but what the American filmmaker Wes Anderson and his perfectly constructed diorama movies are equally famous for is their carefully curated soundtracks. The scores of which have led to, in some cases, a revival of fortune for the said artists and bands that pepper such iconic films as Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Life Aquatic, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Moonrise Kingdom and so on.
The unassuming Anderson has become such a cult figure himself that, in kind, a number of artists have penned homages or name checked his films or idiosyncratic view of the world. Arguably there is a certain hip, generation X selective and knowing calculation to those mixtape-like soundtracks that get used as prompts for poignancy, emotional states and the almost impossible to quantify with just actions or dialogue.
Not quite the homage in itself, the debut album from the NYC bassist and composer Marty Isenberg (stepping out under his own name for the first time) entwines the feelings of his own formative years with Anderson’s filmography: or rather, the music from those beautifully crafted stories of outsider isolation and pain. You could call it a covers album of a sort; an eight-song selection of reinterpretations would be better though. And yet, despite keeping some of the signature melodies, all of the original lyrics, Isenberg extends, menders and sets familiar emoted pulls in a different environment with a rich jazz transformation.
You’ll have to excuse my ignorance and a lack of info on who is joining Isenberg on this album: there’s electric guitar, drums, some sax and cornet, and a beautifully voiced singer with shades of Norah Jones and Esperanza Spalding. I’m going to suggest that members of Isenberg’s Like Minds Trio with Alicyn Yaffee and Eric Reeves could be involved. It would make perfect sense; the music does at least sound congruous.
Proving the most popular choices, The Royal Tenenbaums and The Life Aquatic dominant. From the former there’s a faithful harpsichord spindled version of the Velvet Underground’s ‘Stephanie Says’ that subtly transforms that Stones-like psychedelic old England vibe into a smooth 70s jazz light theme tune, with sections of swing and simmered feels. Velvet third wheel and oft collaborative partner, Nico has her pleasant of Lutheran melancholic song of regret and remembrance. ‘These Days’, lightened and taken back to Jackson Browne’s more lifted, sweetened origins. A Muscle Shoals electric piano (or Hammond) hovers as the vocals acquire more of a lilting and near scat-jazzy vocal arrangement that sounds almost Bacharach(ian).
Another Tenenbaums favourite, Eliot Smith’s ‘Needle In The Hay’ is given a jazzy touch. Isenberg opens with incipient bass bends, scales and nimble introspective picks as a less adolescent moody, despondent vocal points towards both Spalding and Tori Amos. The feels all there: the indie singer-songwriter dourness. Yet it’s given an off-script treatment of drama counterbalanced by the meandered.
Nick Drake’s achingly beautiful ‘Cello Song’, with all its connotations and personal tragedy, is a journey in itself of the wept and sympathetic. Sailing close to Beggars Banquet Stones, and the jazz of Mingus and Bobby Jackson at other times, a “cruel world” of sensitivity is softly expanded upon. That vocal is almost airy, if still carrying a beguiled plaintive tone.
My personal favourite (alongside Rushmore), The Life Aquatic offers up a double helping of Bowie covers and a Lennon/McCartney-like Zombies hymn. In what is a kind of meta exercise, the film’s Belafonte crew member and famous Brazilian musician Seu Jorge originally played around with a songbook of acoustic Bowie numbers; all of which are smattered throughout the Cousteau parody come homage. One of them, ‘Rebel Rebel’, is covered here; attuned more to Jorge’s Latin-sauntered origins than the glam-stomp actionist anthem of Diamond Dogs. In this version the song is played in the background of Peter Sellers’ The Party, or winding out of an early 60s jazz lounge. It’s both very twinkly and Tropicana light. ‘Life On Mars’ however, is faithful in part (tune wise anyway), yet takes the original crooner-vibe towards a mix of colliery band style horns and Stevie Wonder soul-jazz. The drama, edges are rounded but the overriding lament and emotional draw remain in tact. The pleasing ‘The Way I Feel Inside’ from a ‘65 Zombies is handled with a sweetness and enchantment that wouldn’t sound out of place on an Anderson film itself.
I’m totally unfamiliar with the band Steady Holiday, whose ‘So Long’ is playfully sent back to a dancehall era that weaves together echoes of WWII, the 50s and Dixie Jazz for a wistful, cornet nestled smooch.
Isenberg with subtlety and charm offers some surprising renditions. But what’s most surprising is that the bassist doesn’t grandstand, hog the spotlight with his double-bass instrument of choice; nor is this especially a bass-heavy showcase, but an adroit, attentive but ready to leap at a moment’s notice into action playing style that bends and lends itself to a variety of styles. There’s heartfelt connections balanced with a certain magic and even playfulness, a sharing of the artist’s tastes, record collection and personal aspirations; the main one being the loss of his father at a young age: old enough however to have been inspired by his dad’s own musical tastes, loves and collection of instruments. Finding a special affinity perhaps with Anderson’s many protagonists (there is a leitmotif of characters with only one parent in his films), that early loss led to Isenberg’s journey in musical study: from initially learning by feel and intuition, to majoring at the New School for Jazz And Contemporary Music in jazz performance. A beautiful and off-kilter, sometimes whimsical, songbook is transformed with a jazzy touch of personality.
Joe Woodham ‘Worldwide Weather’
(None More Records) 16th June 2023
Noting the changing tides and climate on warm suffused currents of looping guitar, field recordings and kosmische, post-rock and dream progressive styled languorous inspirations, Jouis band member Joe Woodham sonically and melodically charts various lunar-cycle driven weather fronts and metrological phenomena on his first solo album for the None More Records label.
Unburdened by climate change Cassandras’ and apocalyptic predictions, Woodham almost finds a certain comfort – even when yearning – in tracing and capturing the ebb and flow, the awe and beauty of the oceans as they are pulled by the moon’s cyclonic forces.
As an aside, and for trivia fans, album track ‘Neap Gloom’ (anything but as, well, gloomy as that title suggests; rather it’s a more airy and wafted proposition, with rain patters that sound rather nice) is a reference to the tide just after the first or third quarters of the moon: when there is the least difference between high and low waters.
The process of making this album itself comes from enjoyment, not dark clouds of angst or anxiety. The initial experiments were produced in fact on Woodham’s daughter’s Casio keyboard, which in turn was linked to a loop pedal. There’s more to it than that of course, but the intention was one of play and improvisation; later manipulated and layered with the clipped hiss, gates and crackled atmospherics of Matthew David, the suffused bird songs and whistles of Ernest Hood, and crashing surf and spray of the waves crashing against the shoreline.
The enormity is certainly present, but most of the peregrinations and moods slip and wash between the swimmingly and warmly drifting. It could be what sounds like a melodica on tracks like the gamelan malleted bells and concertinaed Parisian wafted ‘Gameplan B’ (no idea about that title, other than this could be a riff on the climate emergency brigades, “there is no planet B”, mantra), and squeezed mellowed, nicely wavy and dreamy (anything but) ‘Overcast’ that makes me think of Alex Paterson’s brand of mirage-dub. And, as referenced by Woodham himself in his accompanying quotes as the listening material when making this record, there’s an enervated whiff of Frances Bebey about the latter track, alongside hints of Jah Wobble and Odd Nosedam.
Amongst the variations of Manuel Göttsching, Michael Rother, Land Observation and Orange Crate Art guitar accents, lines, curves and cycles and sweeping weather fronts, the magical ‘Spring Tides’ builds from a Laraaji-like heavenly introduction into a slow forward momentum of beautiful slowcore and shoegaze (reminding me actually a little of The Besnard Lakes). Woodham actually sings on the psychedelic English folk-pastoral ‘Longshore Drift’ observation; sounding a little like James Yorkston in hymnal echoed benevolence.
Woodham effectively layers the counterflows and melodies of nature and the directions of tidal travel. There are some lovely moments on this album, some spots of reflection, as Woodham makes a case for just letting the music take you in its lunar drawn grasp. A really effective debut for the label.
Hi, my name is Dominic Valvona and I’m the Founder of the music/culture blog monolithcocktail.com For the last ten years this blog has featured and supported music, musicians and labels both I and my team of collaborators love across genres from around the world that we think you’ll want to know about. No content on the site is paid for or sponsored, and we only feature artists we have genuine respect and love for. If you enjoy our reviews (and we often write long, thoughtful ones), found a new artist you admire or, if we have featured you or artists you represent and would like to buy us a coffee at https://ko-fi.com/monolithcocktail to say cheers for spreading the word, then that would be much appreciated.
Our Daily Bread 472: David Ornette Cherry’s Organic Nation Listening Club (The Continual)
October 4, 2021
ALBUM REVIEW/Dominic Valvona
David Ornette Cherry’s Organic Nation Listening Club (The Continual)
(Spiritmuse) 15th October 2021
What providence. What two outstanding luminaries to live up to. David Ornette Cherry’s name marks the extraordinary point in time when his trumpet-pioneering father Don Cherry joined forces with jazz deity Ornette Coleman on the 1958 free jazz defining Something Else!!! LP. It was also the year the musical polymath David was born.
Thankfully taken under his father’s wing, nurtured with the same freewheeling ‘cosmic nomad’ spirit, this sagacious scion of an enviable lineage continues to tread a polygenesis pathway on his latest album of on-message peregrination and rhythmic dances. Attuned to the universal vibrations, channeling the ancients and both his father’s African-American and Choctaw roots, the Organic Nation Listening Club bandleader, prompter and navigator lays out an atavistic form of electronic body movement, echoes of Hassell’s amorphous ‘fourth world’ explorations, the astral and, of course, spiritual jazz on the parenthesis entitled The Continual journey.
David leads a fourteen strong ensemble of global instrument-playing musicians and voices, which includes his niece Tyson McVey (daughter of the no less famous musical sibling, Neneh Cherry) performing vocal soundscape harmonization and wandering siren duties on the diaphanous courtly Indian accompanied, part conscious, part mindfulness yoga session, ‘So & So & So And So’ (imagine Prince joining forces with Linda Sharrock and Brother Ah).
Almost meandering across continents, you’ll hear the resonated echoes, impressions, twine and spindled sounds of North and West Africa, the Asian sub-continent (a lovely brassy reverberation of sitar and the rhythm of tablas can be heard throughout), the Fertile Crescent and an 80s NYC melting pot on this spiritually enlivened trip. The keen-elbowed viola and tapping beat groove ‘Parallel Experience’, with its West African dun dun drum beat suggests that continent’s mood, yet also spreads its scope towards echoes of Farhot’s reimagined breakbeat visions of Afghanistan. The majestic mountain crust positioned ‘Eagle Play’ takes in musical views of not only the recurring spiritual Indian leitmotif but also Anatolia and Harilu Mergia’s Ethiopia (if put together by J Dilla that is).
Elsewhere David and his human, as well as nature’s chorus of ‘hummingbird’ singing cast embody the untethered soul of Don Cherry’s Om Shanti Om and Eternal Now works (and even a touch of the musical microbe calculus of building blocks and life that you’ll find on Don’s collaboration with Terry Riley, Köln). There’s also the fluted presence of Jeremy Steig, and with the more free jazz, almost improvised interactions between David and his drummer John L. Price, electric piano player Naima Karlsson and trumpeter Paul Simms, a touch of Sam Rivers and the Chicago Underground. Meanwhile, in what is an especially expansive field of instrumentation and influence, Gemi Taylor’s guitar straddles krautrock, jazz and drifted cries of a more ambiguous nature.
From the cosmos to the age of the Pharaohs, the garden of earthly delights to dancing through the tumult of our modern times, the rhythms of life merge with more avant-garde performances of serialism, free jazz and even the psychedelic.
All the while the mood is electric, both of the moment and the past; a both sporadic and flowing set of reincarnations existing in a timeless scene under the guidance of an outstanding musical traveller. Anchored in the history of jazz, but so much more beyond that, David lives up to the family name on another eclectic album of borderless healing and wisdom. Be sure to check in at the global retreat and take heed of the advice.
Album Feature: Dominic Valvona
Ethnic Heritage Ensemble ‘Be Known Ancient/Future/Music’
(Spiritmuse Records) 21st June 2019
I’d readily admit I still find it a daunting task reviewing jazz, in all its different forms. Further along in my education of course, beyond the rudiments, but in no way an aficionado. I’m constantly discovering and exploring pieces in the jazz story. And yet, it seems almost unforgivable that such a doyen of the Chicago scene and alumni of that city’s famous hothouse of talent, the School of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, drummer/percussionist and bandleader Kahil El’Zabar has until now escaped me. Such is his vital contribution to Spiritual and African imbued jazz that he really shouldn’t have.
Renowned most notably for the ensemble he formed after graduating and still plays with, Kahil’s impressive CV also includes various roles playing with such luminaries as the great Pharaoh Sanders, Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre and “Light” Henry Huff, and tour spots with titans, Dizzy Gillespie, Archie Shepp, Nina Simone, Stevie Wonder and Lester Bowie.
Leading a myriad of different lineups of the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble since their inception in the early 1970s, Kahil and the current troupe of Corey Wilkes (trumpet), Alex Harding (baritone saxophone) and Ian Maksin (cello) together celebrate a prestigious 45-year career whilst also, and always, looking forward on the latest collection Be Known Ancient/Future/Music.
Spanning live performances, recordings and even a track from the 2015 documentary that forms part of the title of this LP, Dwayne Johnson-Cochran’s exploration Be Known, Kahil’s ensemble once more explore the ever-developing Chicago rhythm that has marked this city out for its unique, often raw, take on R&B, Soul, Dance Music and of course jazz.
Atavistic with a modern pulse, improvising and riffing off repetition, the “ancient” in the title stands for the EHE’s African roots and inspiration; heard through the rustic waterhole evoked bottle pouring and wooden percussion, tribal drum patterns and Egyptology invocations. In theory, it runs throughout Western music, but is felt keenly in the ensemble’s floorless integrations here, which flow and adopt a wealth of genres: a Louisiana feel, be bop skip and dance hall swing on ‘Freedom Jazz Dance’, hints of prime Savoy label jazz, Cab Calloway and Dizzy himself on the homage tumbling drums take on Freddie Hubburd’s ‘Little Sunflower’ standard, and Hugh Masekela in his Hedzoleh Soundz phase, on the Serengeti shuffler ‘Wish I Knew’.
Looking back not only to the “ancients”, this album mourns the loss and pays homage to a catalogue of notaries and progenitors, including a host of jazz stars lost in 2018; a trio of which, Randy Weston, Jerry Gonzalez and Cecil Taylor, are given a nod on the opening peregrination ‘N2Deep’, a primitive House music meets gospel and deep serenaded saxophone bounce of a performance that imagines the Modern Jazz Quartet hooking up with a time-travelling Marshall Jefferson.
From Leon Thomas like pronouncements, shamanistic magic, arcane fiddles, elephant heralded honked baritone and spiritual yearnings, all the African bases are confidently covered.
The ‘future” that is shared in this album’s title, attached to Afro-Futurist, is represented by both the amorphous blending of sounds, from Swing to Hard Bop to Avant-garde, and in the freeform ease of improvised playing; built around repeating but constantly evolving rhythms and motifs. At times Kahil and his troupe soulfully pine over a stripped acoustic dance beat bordering on gospel-House music and at other times, cleverly merge two different distinct rhythms, one more elliptical the other off-kilter, together simultaneously until final syncopation.
Less cosmic than Sun Ra, and less out-of-the-park than the Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Kahil and the EHE tread a different path towards enlightenment; spreading the gospel of positive Afrocentric jazz to ever more dizzying and entrancing heights. Spiritual music with a message doesn’t come much better than this, the EHE showing no signs of waning after 45 years in the business. I’m off to hunt down and digest that lengthy cannon now and suggest you do too.
Albums of 2018: Part One: Idris Ackamoor to The Moonwalks
December 3, 2018
Selected by Dominic Valvona, Matt Oliver and Gianluigi Marsibilio.
The decision making process:
Being the exhaustive and eclectic set of features our (choice) albums of the year are, we know you probably don’t need to or want to dally about reading a long-winded prognosis of our judgement process. But here it is anyway.
Continuing to shy away from fatuous rating systems and ‘best of lists’, the Monolith Cocktail endeavors to offer a more visceral and personal spread of worthy ‘choice’ picks, with no album dominating or holding any particular numbered position – unlike most of our contemporaries lists, stuck with the ridiculous task, for example, of explaining why one album is more deserving of their fatuous numbered spot than another.
With no hierarchical order, we’ve lined our album choices up alphabetically; split into two features – A (Idris Ackamoor) to M (The Moonwalks), andN (Thomas Nation) to (Thom Yorke) Z.
All of our favourite new and reissued albums and EPs from 2018 are of course considered to be the most interesting, vibrant and dynamic of the year’s releases. But the best? Granted, to make this list you have to have made some sort of impact, but we’d never suggest these entries were categorically the best albums of 2018: even if that might be true. Instead our list is an indicator of our amorphous tastes, rounding up another year in the life of the Monolith Cocktail, and we hope, introducing you to titles and artists/bands that may have dropped below the radar or got lost in the noise of more commercial better promoted releases.
All selections have been made by me (Dominic Valvona), Matt Oliver and Gianluigi Marisibilio.
A.
Idris Ackamoor and The Pyramids ‘An Angel Fell’ (Strut Records)
Serving a worthy musical apprenticeship from and imbued by the masters Coltrane, Rahsaan Roland Kirk and Cecil Taylor, the polymath musician, activist, director of The Pyramids ensemble and torchbearer of spiritual and Afrofuturist jazz, Idris Ackamoor once more makes holy communion with the cradle of civilisation on the lamentable An Angel Fell. Imploring a unified message, a connectivity, a reminder that we can all trace our ancestry back to the same place, Ackamoor follows up on ‘We All Be Africans’ with an epic sweeping album of Afro-jazz 2-Step ‘Warrior Dances’ and plaintive primal jazz catharsis.
Walking through the Valley of The Kings; sailing aboard Sun Ra’s Arkestra; conducting the empyrean; evoking Kuti’s Lagos Afrobeat jive; Ackamoor and his troupe traverse the mismia of a broken, corrupt world, delivering cries of anguish and auguers aplenty. Whether penning requiems to the gunned-down black victims of the US Justice system (‘Soliloquy For Michael Brown’), or in radiant prayer (‘Sunset’), they effortlessly and wondrously summon forth the leading lights of each musical genre they inhabit. Afrobeat, gospel, spiritual, funk, blues, future-past-present all come together in one of the year’s most important, enlightening and defining opuses.
(Dominic Valvona)
Ammar 808 ‘Maghreb United’ (Glitterbeat Records)
Throwing the traditional unwieldy Maghreb, before it was demarcated and split into colonial spheres of influence, back together again in the name of progress and unity, Sofyann Ben Youssef fuses the atavistic and contemporary. With past form as one half of the Bargou 08 partnership that gave a modern electric jolt to the isolated, capitulating Targ dialect ritual of the Bargou Valley on the northwestern Tunisia and Algeria border, Youssef under the moniker of Ammar 808 once again propels the region’s diverse etymology of languages, rhythms and ceremony into the present, or even future: hopefully a more optimistic one.
Jon Hassell’s ‘possible musics’ meets Major Lazer, the traversing adaptations from the Gnawa, Targ and Rai traditions and ritual are amorphously swirled or bounced around in a gauze of both identifiable and mystically unidentifiable landscapes. Mixing modern R&B, dub, electro effects with the dusky reedy sound of the evocative gasba and bagpipe like zorka, and a range of earthy venerable and yearning vocals from Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria artists, Youssef distorts, amps up or intensifies a resonating aura of transformative geography and time.
Nothing short of visionary. Full review…
(DV)
Angels Die Hard ‘Sundowner’ (Jezus Factory Records)
Admittedly taking some time to grow on me, the Angels Die Hard combo’s Monsterism Island meets Les Baxter ethnographic phantasm of a remote Southeast Asian archipelago instrumental concept album, Sundowner, has finely unfurled its full magic: just in time to be included in the annual albums of the year features.
Imbued with a legacy of progressive, alt-rock, psych, exotica and post-punk influences plus Julian Cope’s Krautrock compendium, the Angels transduce and channel a cornucopia of styles once more as they soundscape the tropical island of Andaman. An environmental clarion call as much as a progressive rocking exotica, Sundowner is dedicated, at least partially, to the environmental tragedy of the plastic-strewn oceans.
Beachcombing a radioactive luminous landscape of musical opportunity, from bummer downers to mind-expanding space rock jams, these Angels expand their horizons (literally), on the band’s best album to date. Some ideas work better than others of course, but when they do get it right they produce some fantastic opuses of amorphous abandon. Full review…
(DV)
Any Other ‘Two, Geography’ (42 Records)
The story of Adele Nigro (Any Other) is made of beautiful songs originating from a desire to subvert a rather conservative musical culture, just like the Italian one.
2018 has given us many beautiful pieces, of the most varied atmospheres, but to find a compact and complete album in each of its parts, touch refuge in Two, Geography (42 Records).
The numerous collaborations that Any Other has collected, as a musician, in recent years, have been invaluable to develop, refine and embellish her poetics.
The sonorities of the album are very distinct, and at the same time loquaciously soaked by all the experiences brought on stage (or in the studio) during the year that is inexorably past.
With Two, Geography, however, there is more, Adele coming out with her head held high, they are not only beautiful pieces that stand out for their immediacy and vitality, but also the international character of the project.
Any Other’s work was immediately presented as something else, for depth and acuity, starting from that ‘Roger Roger, Commander’ or from the same singles who announced Two, Geography.
The simplicity in intertwining linear arpeggios, bright rhythmic lines and a voice, both delicate and particular, makes us immediately think of the disc in a different way, we immediately understand that such a sound must be appreciated with attention and in its various nuances.
Since the first bars of ‘Silently. Quietly. Going Away’ (the first work of Any Other) you could see her skill in shaping a song form as a real opportunity for musical and textual speculation.
The song ‘Capricorn No’ is a monument of modernity that comes on, not only for its immediate and deep style, but because it plays with the atmosphere that you can hardly expect from an Italian artist.
The work as a whole is a challenge, a part of a musical resistance, a progressive push in the sea magnum of ideas that too often settle down, even in brilliant artists.
Any Other is the 2018, the beautiful and fundamental face to make us remember that, all in all, this year went well.
(Gianluigi Marsibilio)
B.
Anton Barbeau ‘Natural Causes’ (Beehive/Gare du Nord)
Ian Hunter via Robyn Hitchcock via Luke Haines via Julian Cope, wrapped inside an enigma, the Sacramento born, Berlin-based, Anton Barbeau changes his style of delivery repeatedly yet always maintains an idiosyncratic ingenuity in whatever he does. The results of an aborted project under the Applewax banner, made in the run up to the 2016 US elections, Natural Causes is the reflective, more open antithesis to what would have been a far darker and mournful proposition. Richly melodious and halcyon, this most brilliant new collection finds Barbeau both transforming some of the back catalogue (for the better) and penning new glorious sounding maverick pop songs: The quality of which are cerebral, memorable, melodic but also adventurous and inventive.
Barbeau and a congruous cast of guests lend a touching caress to a songbook of contemporary surreal lyrical musings and love songs. Unrushed, even breezy in places but hardly lacking intensity, there’s an air of nostalgia in homages to the radio stations and DJs that first sparked interest in the young Barbeau on the Hunter fronts Tom Petty band finale Down Around The Radio. And with a nod to one of the music cannons greatest ever records, The Beatles Sgt. Pepper kaleidoscope, a stab at a popsike hit (a missing link from one of Strange Days magazines 80s halcyon compilations) is made with a song that was originally written to be recorded at the venerated Fab Fours’ inner sanctum of Abbey Road, with the quirky Disambiguation.
Fans of Barbeau will be once again charmed by his unique songwriting abilities, and those still unfamiliar with the inimitable generation X artist of renown will find much to love about his psychedelic pop genius. Full review…
(DV)
MC Paul Barman ‘Echo Chamber’ (Mello Music Group)
“Potent politics, funky lounge lizard off-the-tops and bizarre hypotheses, burrowing its way through the toughest of leather bound volumes to have you picking the bones out for weeks on end” RnV May 18
In many ways this is the consummate Paul Barman album, but it bears repeating straight off the bat, while trying super hard to not sound incredulous, that ‘Echo Chamber’ features production from ?uestlove, DOOM and Prince Paul (funky/sidekick status, from stoop to playground), with additional contributions from Mark Ronson (upping the ludicrousness with a tweak of The Ronettes’ ‘Sleigh Ride’), Masta Ace and Open Mike Eagle. That’s some serious string pulling from an explicitly cult concern only reinforcing his standards in lewdness and a smart Aleck riot act both downplaying and toadying a racing IQ (his relocation to Mello Music Group keeps him in his own lane as well). Ridiculous as ever with the dictionary and remaining a brilliant observer – see ‘Youngman Speaks on Race’, and ‘Commandments’ going one better by taking the Decalogue to Sesame Street and Biggie’s Bed-Stuy – Barman carries on making the longest of long shots with battle raps that’ll bamboozle and WTF one-liners that Jackanory or congress will sadly never benefit from. Bigger, better and geekier than ever.
Bixiga 70 ‘Quebra Cabeça’ (Glitterbeat Records)
Translating as the ‘puzzle’, Bixiga 70‘s latest album is a full 360-degree panoramic evocation (both joyful and lamentable) of their homeland’s African roots. Translating those roots, an ancestry that runs through many of the band members (some individuals descended from the Africa-Caribbean religion of ‘candomble’ for instance), Bixiga are also inspired on this journey by some of the highly talented artists they’ve shared various stages with over the years. Artists such as the Ghanaian highlife singer Pat Thomas, the Nigerian sublime traversing saxophonist legend Orlando Julius and Brazilian octogenarian star João Donato. Incorporating the lot they merge their brass-y signature carnival funk and shaking Afrobeat sass with cosmic voodoo, Afro-jazz and sloping funk.
The quality as always shines through on every track, with the visions and evocations of both Africa and Bixiga’s city home of Sao Paulo articulated by an energetic but also ruminating soundtrack of the tribal, funky, cosmic, tropical, gospel and ritual. The slave portal of Benin, further outlying deserts of the sub-Sahara and busy rhythmic bustles of Nigeria are channeled via the melting pot hubs of Brazil on the group’s most epic, ancestral and geographical straddling album. It only remains to see just how great it will sound live on stage. Full review…
(DV)
The Bordellos ‘Debt Sounds’
Brian Bordello ‘The Death Of Brian Bordello’ (Metal Postcard Records)
In a parallel universe the Jesus And Mary Chain never left East Kilbride; Julian Cope never formed the Teardrop Explodes; and Brian Wilson was in fact born in St. Helens in the late 1960s, and recorded all his opusus on a Tascam four-track, inspired by Mark E Smith. This alternative world is one the dysfunctional family circle The Bordellos inhabit. Probably the best lo fi rock’n’roll-meets-post-punk-meets-the-Spaceman 3 hapless band you’ve never heard of, the prolific group, headed by the patriarchal masthead Brian Bordello, have been luridly, sinisterly, laughably and pessimistically knocking-out their brand of disgruntled alternative yearnings for a decade or more with little attention from anyone other than us loyal fans – who probably need our heads examined in all honesty. You either get them or you don’t. And you could find some of their more confrontational dark humour (songs about the BBC killing John Peel, still loving the musical cannon of Gary Glitter, and on this album, Debt Sounds, some sinister predatory sexual allured shclock about Rolf Harris) too unsettling, even perverse.
Debts Sounds, in the manner of a Half Man Half Biscuit play-on-words, is The Bordellos low cost Pet Sounds. That may not be initially obvious. But stay with me on this one. Fashioned and realised by Brian from the band members and even affiliates, girlfriends and whatnots various outpourings and late night sessions into a most epic song book of unrequited love, sick love, obsessed love, compromised love, salacious love, and even some tender love – they excel themselves on the laid bare and touching ‘Spirograph’ and quasi-Beatles ‘My Life’ meets the hardened north romanticism of ‘I May Be Reborn’ (Take this for a line: “Every smoking chimney my Statue of Liberty”), Debt Sounds is full of great maverick performances and songwriting, made in a period of crisis, anxiety and manic depression. Ok…so more Don Van Vliet than Brian Wilson, but still a valid comparison.
Whereas will you hear odes, homages and eulogies to Jimmy Campbell and Faron’s Flamingos to a back track featuring vague indifferent shades of Thom Yorke, Cope, Velvet Underground, Red Crayola, Joy Division and the The Seeds? Nowhere that’s where. Brian Bordello’s Track-by-track breakdown…
Knocking out records on a whim, it seems inconceivable that the leader of the Bordellos has never actually released a solo effort until this year (and only a few weeks from the end of 2018). Paring down, enverated, Brian Bordello steps outside the family unit on his debut solo, The Death Of... Not expecting many flowers on that graveside elegy of a album title, Brian takes a sort of reflective pause and looks back on a litany of tropes that have come to encapsulate his resigned fatalism. With only a clipped, rough and unguarded acoustic guitar and his trusted Tascam for company, Brian pays tribute to rock’n’roll icons Eddie Cochran (again) and Mark E Smith (who Brain thinks should be canonised as a saint); wears his heart on his sleeve cooing songs about lingering memories of bunk-ups, unrequited wooing gone wrong and lost kitchen sink romances; and languishly but candidly weary sonnets on depression.
As lo fi as it can get, Brian’s most intimate, personal performances yet strip away all the caustic dissonance and fuzz to reveal his most brilliant songwriting. The Death Of is an often beautifully morose songbook that lays bare the talents of a true uncompromising outsider.
(DV)
Brace! Brace! ‘S/T’ (Howlin Banana)
Producing gorgeous hues of softened psychedelia, new wave, Britpop and slacker indie rock, this young but sophisticated band effortlessly melt the woozy and dreamy with more punchier dynamic urgency on their brilliant debut album.
Squirreled away in self-imposed seclusion, recording in the Jura Mountains, the isolation and concentration has proved more than fruitful. Offering a Sebastian Teller fronts Simian like twist on a cornucopia of North American and British influences, Brace! Brace! glorious debut features pastel shades of Blur, Gene, Dinosaur Jnr., Siouxsie And The Banshees (check the “I wrecked your childhood” refrain post-punk throb and phaser effect symmetry guitar of ‘Club Dorothée’ for proof) and the C86 generation. More contemporary wafts of Metronomy, Mew, Jacco Gardner, the Unknown Mortal Orchestra and Deerhunter (especially) permeate the band’s hazy filtered melodies and thoughtful prose too.
A near-perfect debut album, an introduction to one of the most exciting new fuzzy indie-pop bands of the moment. Full review…
(DV)
Apollo Brown & Joell Ortiz ‘Mona Lisa’ (Mello Music Group)
“Rugged but always smooth, reflective with a forked tongue…there’s a lot of comfort to be taken from the union of two opposing authority figures exercising supreme quality control” – RnV Nov 18
This duo’s mutual will to only work with the elite – Joell Ortiz as a member of Slaughterhouse, Apollo Brown extending his collaborative run after shared albums with Skyzoo, Ghostface Killah, Ras Kass, Planet Asia – is head start number one. Yes these are extremely experienced experts in their field who shouldn’t drop the ball, but 12 tracks, one emcee and one producer, two guests maximum, and everything absolutely finely tuned is still the best advantage to press home. A steadiness to both performances has BPMs instantly finding their sweet point so instrumental richness can build, settle, simmer and seduce, and vocals slip straight into the pocket housing an imperceptible line between recognition and vengeance. The introspection of ‘Mona Lisa’ pays respects with a feeling that it doesn’t pay to dwell, that while everything may be upbeat and secure – visuals of sauntering down a street and coloured in something like a high definition sepia – slippery slopes, with ‘Cocaine Fingertips’ the album’s most rotten apple and situations like the bittersweet resonance of ‘That Place’, are always around the corner. Another win for the seemingly indefatigable Mello Music Group as well.
(Matt Oliver)
C.
The Cold Spells ‘S/T’ (Gare du Nord)
Esoterically gentle and wistful, The Cold Spells debut long player is a gauze-y organic and ambiguous (to a point) affair of undulating ‘moss covered’ circuitry, folk, quintessential English psych, paisley patterned hallucinogens and Kosmische.
Communing with the ether, connecting with the psychogeography of their chosen environment – from the soft Wiccan with forebode travail of Thomswood Hill to the alluded-to abandoned mental hospital waste ground near Hainault -, a host of spirits tune in and out of the continuous, though (as we’re told) not in a linear order, flowing suite of laudanum imbued Victoriana lyricism and Beatles-esque melody.
A surprise package, quietly unassuming, the trio’s encapsulation of an age of ghostly memories – the ancestors inhabit the band’s present to address the here and now concerns of a troubled, unstable world – is magical and gently lamentable; a perfect evocation of aicd folk and pastoral esotericism, as beautifully plaintive as it is ominous. Full review…
(DV)
D.
Die Wilde Jagd ‘Uhrwald Orange’ (Bureau B)
Fashioning a mysterious ‘Clockwood Orange’ world of Gothic and ominous dreamscapes, inspired by and named, in part, after the studio it was produced in, and by both the 17th century menagerie paintings of the Flemish artist Frans Snyder and the collected devotional Medieval period songs of the Llibre Vermell De Montserrat artifact, Die Wilde Jagd’s Sebastian Lee Philipp takes us on an eerie, cosmic and slinking travail through a throbbing sophisticated earthy electronic soundtrack. His musical partner on the group’s adroit debut self-titled experiment, producer Ralf Beck, is excused from the follow-up but lends out his extensive racks of vintage analogue synthesizers to Philipp, who transforms and obscures their banks of sounds into ghostly permutations, shadowy creatures and lurking, dancing and honking sonorous cries from a murky wilderness.
Uhrwald Orange is a classy imagined score, balancing cool, gleaming and aloof German electronica with menacing, nocturnal earthiness, yet also reaching for the celestial. One minute imbued with hints of Bauhaus, Killing Joke, Eno, Cluster, and Faust, the next slinking on to the Tresor club or Basic Channel dancefloor. In short: a most impressive album. Full review…
(DV)
Dur-Dur Band ‘Dur Dur Of Somalia: Volume 1, Volume 2 And Previously Unreleased Tracks’(Analog Africa)
A highlight in a catalogue of outstanding reissues from the Analog Africa label, intrepid crate digger Samy Ben Redjeb reprises the first two volumes of Somali fusion funk music from the legendary 1980s outfit, the Dur-Dur Band. Embodying a period in the decade when Mogadishu could boast of its cosmopolitan reputation – notably the European chic Via Roma stretch in the Hamar-Weyne district, a colonnade for café culture, cinema and of course music – the hybrid Dur-Dur Band moped up the polygenesis fever of their native city with effortless aplomb during their short heyday.
Saved from ‘tape-hiss’ and ‘wobbles’, remastered to sound the best they’ve ever sounded, these curious but above all loose-limbed nuggets successfully merged a myriad of Somalia traditions with a liberal smattering of disco, reggae (via the northern part of the country’s ‘Daantho’ rhythm style; an uncanny surrogate for Jamaica’s number one export), soul and funk. Mirroring a similar fusion thousands of miles away in New York, the Dur-Dur languidly produced an electrified no wave-new wave melting pot.
Split up across a triple LP and double CD formats the Dur-Dur Band’s first two albums proper, Volumes 1 and 2, and a couple of unreleased tunes feature on this, the first in a promised series of re-issues. Released originally in 1986, the first of these and the band’s debut album, Volume 1, has a rawer unpolished but snazzy sound that saunters, skips and grooves along with aloof coolness to sweltering laidback funk; opening with the wah-wah chops and a fuzzy organ stunner, ‘Ohiyee’ , which lays down a sophisticated but explosive spiritual dance floor thriller. Volume 2 by contrast seems a little brighter and tropical; beginning as it does with the dub echoed, Trenchtown pirate radio broadcast ‘Introduction’.
Going further than most to bring the sounds of Africa to a wider audience, the Dur-Dur Band release proved to be one of the label’s most difficult, as Redjeb tackled the geopolitical fall-out of a country devastated by civil war to bring us a most unique sounding and essential collection. Full review…
(DV)
E.
Elefant ‘Konark Und Bonark’ (9000 Records)
Emerging from the Belgium underground scene, with members from a myriad of bands, each one more obscure than the next, the Elefant in this room is a twisted agit-post-punk, boiler come forensic team suited troop of noise peddlers. Lurking around basement venues for a while now, the sludge metal and gallows Krautrock merchants have released a slurry of EPs but never a fully realized album until now.
For an album that grapples with Marilyn Manson, Swans, Killing Joke, Muse, industrial contortions and Germanic experimentation, Konark Und Bonark is a very considered, purposeful statement. Though things get very heavy, implosive and gloomy and the auger like ghosts in the vocals can sound deranged, there is a semblance of melody, a tune and hint of breaking through the confusing, often pummeling, miasma of artificial intelligence armageddon.
A seething rage is tightly controlled throughout, the sporadic flits and Math Rock entangled rhythms threatening to engulf but never quite reaching an overload, or for that matter, becoming a mess. Elefant’s prowling and throbbing sound of creeping menace and visions of an artificial intelligent domineering dystopia is an epic one. Arguably the band have produced their most ambitious slog yet and marked themselves out as one of Belgium’s most important exports of 2018. Full review…
(DV)
Bernard Estardy ‘Space Oddities: 1970-82’ (Born Bad)
‘Fragmented D’une Empreinte Magnétique: Rares 1966-2006’ (Gonzai Records)
Because sometimes you just can’t decide, I’ve chucked in two reappraisal celebrating compilations of the odd, curious, thrilling and kitsch flights of fantasy musical fragments/sketches/soundtracks/compositions from the late and most gifted venerated French composer Bernard Estardy. I can’t even claim that these are great collections, let alone the best albums of the year, but they’ve kept me smiling all year.
Nicknamed ‘The Baron’, the founder of the CBE recording studio (which he set up in 1966) collaborated with a host of famous French icons in his time (arranging, producing or sound engineering for Johnny Hallyday, Francoise Hardy, Nino Ferrer, Michel Sardou and Jean Guidoni amongst others), but found an unleashed creative freedom as the master of consoles on his own excursions and dream flights of curiosity. Enjoying a resurrection of a sort in 2018, in part down to his daughter Julie Estardy‘s biography ‘The Giant’, Bernard’s eclectic back catalogue, from the realised to cutting room floor, is being reissued or rediscovered by a new generation through a number of different labels, both in France and internationally.
Two such compilations swept me up in their bombast; the first an album that couldn’t be described any better than the title it comes with, Space Oddities, and the second, Fragmented D’une Empreinte Magnétique, a Gauloises hotbed of weepy venerated organ romanticism and salacious sleek soundtracks. The first takes library music to the stars and beyond on a sassy opulent voyage of esoteric cosmic discovery. Jazz meets deep space on a drum-heavy collection of mysterious thrillers, phantasms and exotic awe. Tracks such as the more romantic, flute-y glide in space blues ‘Slow Very Slow’ sound like they could have made it to the ears of Goldfrapp or Greg Foat. The second of the pairing frequents more Earthy realms, pitching gospel with Bacharach yearnings, sentimental laments (the torn love soliloquy ‘It’s A Lovely Day To Die’ sums it up perfectly) and the strangest of deep-chested sung French cowboy soundtracks (A very Parisian journey to buy your ciggies, ‘La Route Au Tabac’, is rerouted through a lonesome pine trail). Both are as brilliant as they are audacious; a refreshing escapism and proof of a unique talent.
(DV)
Evidence ‘Weather or Not’ (Rhymesayers)
“From the moment he draws first breath on ‘Weather or Not’, Evidence embarks on a masterclass” – RnV Feb 18
A meteorological masterpiece showing that it’s rarely sunny in LA, whenever it rains it pours, and that Evidence is always bringing the weather with him. Ever laconic but whose economy of words is always wisely directed and word association seems slight but cuts deep, Ev walks the streets with collar up and hands dug into pockets, seemingly always in search of a contentment whose elusiveness he’s fine with. This prolongs a character pairing the enigmatic with a spokesman calling it straight down the line (“things I never thought about, trying to be elusive in the process, get forgot about”), a wallowing wanderer with whiplash in the tale and forever in control of his destiny (feel the tempered triumph of the concluding ‘By My Side Too’). A spread of AM band forecasts, a splash of psychedelic epiphanies and head nodders that buck like a bronco from Premier, Nottz and Babu, plus some Step Brothers espionage from Alchemist, allow the Dilated Peoples man to find you: because ‘Weather or Not’, you can’t run, you can’t hide.
(MO)
F.
Flora Fishbach ‘À Ta Merci’ (Blue Wrasse)
The French music press we’re told have fallen hook, line and synth for the alluring contralto voice of Flora Fishbach, who’s 80s revisionist pop twist on chanson oozes with such sophistication that its difficult not to embrace. Fishbach picked up the album révélation award at the Le Prix des Indés for best independent debut LP, winning high praise and plaudits galore ever since. Looking to make a similar impact across the Channel, the ‘bohemian darling’ has just released a deluxe edition of her electro pop requiem À Ta Merci. That decision is more or less echoed in the album’s title, which translates as, “at your mercy”.
Featuring the original running order and a bonus septet of gorgeous live recordings, this aloofly chic, yet theatrical, and especially when performing, animated album recasts Françoise Hardy as a disco pop and electro swooned crooner. Effortlessly channeling the vaporous dreamy pining of Kazu Makino on the moon dust sprinkled fantasy title-track and ambient textured, synthesizer bass bubbling yearned lament ‘Un beau langage’, and a Gallic Alison Goldfrapp on the opening ice-y cool malady ‘Ma voie lactée’, Fishbach adds a French nuance and sensibility to the synthesized pop ascetic: a signature you could say that despite the revivalist backing of electronic drum pads, post-punk sass, Moroder arpeggiator, Rococo harpsichord and hi-energy is unmistakably contemporary and French.
With the momentum already building in France and with the recent runaway success of music press darling Christine And The Queens (who I personally find utterly dull) I’m sure the UK will embrace this sophisticated chanteuse. This is overwhelmingly a better, more fun record than Christine’s (or the name she’s now adopted, Chris). Fishbach has certainly impressed me enough – what’s not impressive about referencing the philosophical aloof quandary that is Rimbaud’s “Je est un autre” (“I am another”) on a tropical slinking crystalline pop song, Un Autre Que Moi (“Another Me”) – to recommend her as one to watch in 2019. Full review…
(DV)
Fliptrix ‘Inexhale’ (High Focus)
“‘Inexhale’ masters the art of knocking you down with a feather: the pugilistic psychoanalysis is untouchable” – RnV Sept 18
It’s a little disingenuous to say Fliptrix became the High Focus main man this year, given he’s the driving force behind the label and already has a back catalogue of textbook pen and pad amplification. What with the label’s ever bubbling pool of talent seeing Ocean Wisdom blazing all and sundry, Jam Baxter expanding his cult appeal and two late night smokers from Coops, ‘Inexhale’ could’ve played the holding role and sat in the pack. But with breath control putting a copyright on the title and not a single word wasted, it’s an album that will leave you levitating. Be that from his street level strain of spirituality – letting the sharp end of something herbal work him over, or thoroughly aware of the rights and wrongs of his surroundings – or from the velocity of what’s spat (‘Inside the Ride’ doesn’t and won’t ever flop). Then flipping what the surroundings suggest, and never getting lost in the haze even with eyes at the reddest, Fliptrix finds the perfect medium between headphone moments and smacks to the head.
(MO)
Fofoulah ‘Daega Rek’ (Glitterbeat Records)
Bustling onto the transglobal London and Bristol scenes in 2014 with their earthy and urban bombastic fusion of Wolof African culture and dub electronica rich debut LP, the Fofoulah ensemble laid down the template for the a unique adventurous sound. Though taking its time to materialize, four years on, the follow-up album hasn’t just moved on but supersonically zoomed into the experimental void; even an esoteric, spiritual one at times.
Daega Rek, ‘the truth’ when translated from the Wolof language of coastal West Africa, sees Fofoulah’s saxophonist, keyboardist and producer Tom Challenger transmogrify the original Gambian talking drum of the group’s shamanistic rapping lead Kaw Secka and the accompanying percussion and propulsive drumming rhythms of his band members. (All of which were laid down at the Real World studios). Secka would then reappear in post-production to record his half spoken/half-rapped protestations and observations; the results all re-shaped into a ricocheting lunar-tropical bounding dub cosmology.
Skipping and skittish in motion; pushing the envelope as they pay tribute to lost brothers (‘Kaddy’ pays 2-Step rhythmic eulogy to the late photographer Khadija Saye who died in the Grenfell Tower disaster), the visceral taste of home (‘Chebou Jaine’ dedicated to Secka’s cousin, who cooked the best national Gambian dish) and search for the truth, Fofoulah lunge into the electrified dub ether of sonic adventure. Full review…
(DV)
G.
Goatman ‘Rhythms’ (Rocket Recordings)
An amorphous exploration of world ‘rhythms’ as transduced by one the mysterious Scandinavian GOAT band members through a an arsenal of filters, modulators and oscillations, the debut Goatman suite blends its polygenesis inspirations perfectly.
Offering up magical and scintillating rhythms galore, from Kuti’s compound Afrobeat to a tremolo and laser bouncing variant of RAM’s Haiti vibe, you can expect to hear the venerable tones of gospel, jazz, reggae, psych and pure ethereal acoustic Kosmische on this sonic flight of fantasy. Earthy yet light enough to soar, this impressive experiment side-project channels its influences perfectly to conjure up new musical ideas. Echoes of GOAT are never far away of course, yet this imaginative take feels more natural, more organic, and above all, more soulful. A fantastic debut.
(DV)
H.
Jack Hayter ‘Abbey Wood’ (Gare du Nord)
Bringing light, or at least opening up a psycho-geographical narrative dedicated to the very edges of a largely ignored London postcode – so far out on the South Eastern outskirts as to be part of Kent –, an earnest Jack Hayter composes a yearning lament to Abbey Wood on what is his first solo album in fifteen years.
Hayter’s deftly played, with twangs of bucolic and Baroque folk, blues, synthesized atmospherics, Americana and reverent chamber music, multilayered songbook connects with the psychogeography of his chosen location. From songs about the Abbey Wood diaspora and its position as a gateway to the world to laying cooing elegiac wreaths to those unfortunate victims of the WWII Arandora Star passenger ship tragedy, Hayter produces a lived-in musical novel, rich with references, landmarks and peopled by those who left an indelible, if at times fleeting, mark upon this much forgotten or passed over postcode: their ghosts, no matter how small the part they played in its story, never inconsequential; remembered and written about with a certain gravitas by the erstwhile troubadour, who performs the most accomplished and brilliant of testaments. Full review…
(DV)
Homeboy Sandman & Edan ‘Humble Pi’ (Stones Throw)
“A banquet of slaps that will become one of your five a day, and ultimately year” – RnV Oct 18
If seven or so tracks are good enough for Pusha T, Kanye etc, then they’re an ample fit for this elite underground swashbuckler of a showdown brought to us by the matchmaking Gods. Having flitted around the periphery for what seems forever, Edan returns with some of his best, ear-piercing archaeology to date as he shifts the B-boy-psych continuum once more; and Homeboy Sandman, both revelling in getting in the thick of it and firing off missives as he’s swept along for the ride, gets off the wall (“see me looking photogenic in the Book of Genesis, waving off medicines”), yet reels off some of the realest in recent times (it’s still, and shall remain, all about ‘Never Use the Internet Again’, which stylistically is actually a bit of a left-turn). The feeling pervades that the pair are proudly gladiatorial, indulging in friendly, unspoken competition as much as fighting the good fight as anointed hip-hop saviours. Let’s hope the sub 30-minute running time means the door is open for a second bout some time soon.
(MO)
J.
Juga-Naut & Sonnyjim ‘The Purple Door’ (Eat Good Records)
“Their usual, indomitable personas on the mic never skimp on Michelin-starred quality, and they still aren’t the ones to test if you think they’re pushing their luck” – RnV Aug 18
It’s an album largely based on elitist boasts, expensive trinkets and accessories and some pretty outlandish claims, but hey, these boys done good. Larger than life and living the playboy lifestyle making the ludicrous seem obtainable – you too can be a ‘Purple Door’ gold card holder – Juga-Naut and Sonnyjim transform the Midlands into St Tropez with a load of gala funk to make a red carpet entrance to, with just a hint of a twinkle in its eye like a felonious exile that has everyone’s backing. That said, you can’t live the life of a Rat Packer if you ain’t got the gab, and these two are no novices: the great suitability of their top table rhyme personas – Juga-Naut will have you believing every word he spits, Sonnyjim coming in dry and stonefaced yet smelling (and producing) like a million bucks – shares a love of all things gastronomic on the likes of ‘Duck Season’ that comes sweeping down a spiral staircase, while ‘Look Around’ takes a moment to act more tactfully, pledging family honour like a good fella. It might not be dining etiquette, but these two are pulling chairs from under the competition.
(MO)
Park Jiha ‘Communion’ (Glitterbeat Records)
Circumnavigating the globe to bring much-needed exposure to new sounds, Glitterbeat Records imprint tak:til gives a second wind to a suite of acuity serialism from Southeast Asia. Released originally in South Korea in 2016, the neo-classical musician/composer Park Jiha’s debut solo album Communion is given an international release by the label.
Inspiring what we’re told is a burgeoning Korean music scene (well, an alternative to the K-Pop craze), a chief progenitor of the movement Jiha alongside collaborative partner Jungmin Seo originally melded the country’s musical heritage with an eclectic range of contemporary sounds as the 숨[suːm] duo in 2007. Releasing the highly influential regional albums Rhythmic Space: A Pause For Breath (2010) and 2nd (2014), Park and Seo crossed the time zones to perform at both WOMAD and SXSW. Congruously putting the duo on hold to explore a more ‘personal’ and minimalistic ‘musical vocabulary’ as a solo artist, Jiha dexterously balances the air-y abstract breathes of the ‘piri’ double reed bamboo flute, the searing twang of the ‘saenghwang’ mouth organ and the softly paddled patter of the ‘yanggeum’ hammered dulcimer in what is a dialogue between a dulcet calm, the meditative and an entangled dissonance.
Transforming Korean traditions into a more experimental language that evokes the avant-garde, neo-classical and jazz yet something quite different, Park Jiha’s tranquil to entangled discourse evocations reach beyond their Southeast Asian borders both musically and metaphysically into something approaching the unique and amorphous. Full review…
(DV)
John Johanna ‘I’ll Be Ready When The Great Day Comes’ (Faith And Industry)
More a mini-album, even 12″ to be contrary, the beautifully cooed, warbled and ached venerable I’ll Be Ready When The Great Day Comes is nothing less than an afflatus anointed paean to a higher purpose. Informed by the mystical cosmology of the Eastern Orthodox Church, John Johanna‘s spiritual blues-y and gospel rock’n’rock hymns are both diaphanous and mesmerizing, even hypnotic; recalling visages of Morricone, Fleetwood Mac, Terakaft, Dirtmusic and Wovenhand as it wanders a picturesque but troubled soundscape.
On the devotional pilgrimage, the troubadour of the most evocative, stirring country burr, switches between aching falsetto yearning to lovelorn cowboy on the Andes romanticised cooing, and from the ethereal to fraught, as he makes communion.
No two songs are quite the same, as the wooing rustic sits next to (what can only be described as) the holy desert rock fusion of Native Indian and Afro-beat title track, and Bossa shuffle meets Yonatan Gat raindance. It all congruously comes together in one most divine service. A minor masterpiece.
(DV)
M.
Marlowe (L’Orange & Solemn Brigham) ‘Marlowe’ (Mello Music Group)
“Both excel in never revealing what’s steaming around the next corner, even when you’ve grabbed your toothcomb for the umpteenth time” – RnV July 18
Another yearly round up, another L’Orange inclusion. North Carolina stands up as latest collaborator Solemn Brigham rhymes his ass off: weirdly, without necessarily feeding off what the producer is trawling, and helping create something of an odd couple match made in heaven. L’Orange sets the scene, usually a funky hoedown, a sample-heavy brouhaha anticipating a stand-off or a psychedelic neck-snap. As is his wont, there’s a narrative to be spun, or some simple time-travelling to be done where no two bops are the same. Brigham on the other hand, blurbed as “summoning the holy spirit of Big L” without getting sucked into the danger zone, just jumps in with a garrulous B-boy stance and goes for it. Without L’Orange surrounding him in a world of imagination, give Brigham a park bench and a ghettoblaster and the results would be the same. What he does guarantee is that you’ll be going back to what he has to say, and whatever the variables, the energy and entertainment (grounded surrealism?) never dips. L’Orange may have found himself an emcee to keep on retainer.
(MO)
Hugh Masekela ’66-‘76’ (Wrasse Records)
A most poignant and timely reminder of one of the true greats, the mammoth 66-’76 collection shows a multifaceted Hugh Masekela: The exile. The trumpet maestro. The bandleader. The activist. The colonial revisionist. The angry young man. But also the conciliatory. These are just some of the many faces of the South African titan of jazz and African musical fusions that can be found inside the latest essential collection of the late great polymaths’ back durable catalogue.
Put together especially by Masekela and his good friend, producer and collaborator on a number of projects together, Stewart Levine, just before he passed away at the beginning of this year, the three disc spanning collection features key tracks from many of his most iconic and experimental albums (two of which are included in their entirety). But what makes this especially appealing to collectors and fans alike, is that many of these albums were never officially released in the UK and Europe before. Progressing in the chronological order they were recorded, we follow Masekela’s journey not just musically but politically across his most formative decade and his partnership with Levine and collaborations with such legendary ensembles as the Hedzoleh Soundz combo. From the combined jazz and Township fusions of The Emancipation Of Hugh Masekela all the way to criss-crossing the transatlantic slave routes on Colonial Man, this collection is a sheer joy. Full review…
(DV)
(MO)
Brona McVittie ‘We Are The Wildlife’
With the lightest, most deft of touches, Irish songstress and harpist Brona McVittie embarks on a voyage of ‘psycho-geographic’ inspired encapsulations of a mysterious, magical landscape and history on her debut album, We Are The Wildlife.
Tracing the sonic contours of London’s urban fringes and the rural landscapes of Mourne, McVittie pitches her fluttery diaphanous harp-led songbook somewhere between post-folk and the cinematic – helped along in part by the drifting trumpet evocations of film composer Hutch Demouilpied, who’s contributions sound at times like Miles Davis Dingo transported to an Irish peat bog.
Her ephemeral harp melodies and phrases often feel like a breath or just the merest hazy lingering presence of the instrument, which might in some ways be down to McVittie’s technique of playing them all on the guitar first before transcribing over. It certainly offers a different perspective and technique. And it certainly takes this heavenly traditional instrument into even more mystical, accentuate abstract realms, helped of course by an accompaniment of meadow flute (Keiron Phelan), sad bowed delicate strings (Richard Curran), searching fleeting slide-guitar and shuffling to full-on breakbeat drums (Myles Cochran). All of which amorphously pushes the often-ancient feelings and geography towards John Martyn and Bert Jansch one minute, towards the Incredible String Band or trip-hop the next.
Played with the lightest of touches, McVittie’s wildlife and Celtic inspired filmscape subtly crafts tradition into a cerebral suite of neo-classical and ambient folk. We Are The Wildlife is the most inviting and unique of debuts. Full review…
(DV)
Minyeshu ‘Daa Dee’ (ARC Music)
From the tentative first steps of childhood to the sagacious reflections of middle age, the sublime Ethiopian songstress Minyeshu Kifle Tedla soothingly, yearningly and diaphanously articulates the intergenerational longings and needs of belonging on her epic LP, Daa Dee.
Minyeshu left her native Ethiopia in 1996, but not before discovering and then learning from such acolytes as the doyen of the country’s famous Ethio-Jazz scene, Mulatu Astatke, and the choreographer Tadesse Worku and singers Mahmoud Ahmed, Tilahun Gessesse and Bizunesh Bekele. First moving to Belgium and then later to the Netherlands, the burgeoning star of the Ethiopian People To People music and dance production has after decades of coming to terms with her departure finally found a home: a self-realization that home wasn’t a geographical location after all but wherever she felt most comfortable and belonged:“Home is me!”
Evoking that sense of belonging and the theme of roots, but also paying a tribute and lament to the sisterhood, Minyeshu conveys with a sauntering but sorrowful jazzy blues vibe not only the burden and grind of daily life for many of her compatriots back home in the tumultuous climate of a fragmented and often chaotic Ethiopia, but also the joy of song and togetherness.
Not only merging geography but musical styles too, the Daa Dee LP effortlessly weaves jazz (both Western and Ethiopian) R&B, pop, dub, the theatrical, and on the cantering to lolloping skippy ‘Anteneh (It Is You?)’, reggae. Piano, strings and brass mix with the Ethiopian wooden washint flute and masenqo bowed lute to create an exotic but familiar pan-global sound. Minyeshu produces a masterful heartwarming, sometimes giddy, swirling testament that is exciting, diverse and above all else, dynamic. Her voice is flawless, channeling various journeys and travails but always placing a special connection to and emphasis on those special roots. Full review…
(DV)
Moonwalks ‘In Light (The Scales In The Frame)’ (Stolen Body Records)
At least geographically close to the spirit of the Motor City, if generations apart, Detroit’s Moonwalks brood in the shadows of the counterculture doyens that made it such an infamous breeding ground for snarling attitude garage, psych and acid rock in the 60s and early 70s.
Transitioning, so we’re told, from ad hoc abandon warehouse performances as a diy glam psych rock troupe to experimental space rock stoners, spiraling in a vaporous gauzy vortex of 80s British Gothic and acid shoegaze influences, the Moonwalks make a certain dynamic progression on their second full length album, In Light.
Sometimes they sound like a black magic rites Byrds and at others like a doomed The Glass Family on a bum ride. Their curtain call, The Joy Of Geraniums, is the most odd song of all; taking the Moonwalks into a whistling led peyote-induced trip to the Mojave Desert.
Vocally malaise the voices waft between Siouxsie Sioux, Bauhaus’ Peter Murphy and Slowdive’s Rachel Goswell. Of course it fits the nebulous cosmic doom and dreamy psych style of the group perfectly; ambiguously drifting through magical rites and sulky pretensions aplenty. Full review…
(DV)
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