Sal Klita Blogger | Muzik impressions

Sal Klita Blogger

Wednesday, March 29

Sibylle Baier Presents - "Colour Green". Don't u Worry, Psych Folk Days Aint Over Yet...& This Is A New Masterpiece.

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Colour Green by Sibylle Baier is unusual in its obscurity even as “obscure” albums are concerned. Recent years have seen the awaited and well-deserved reissue of countless gems from the Sixties, particularly that of lesser known Folk singers and songwriters, yet this release has taken “unearthing gems” to a new height. There’s not much to tell about Sibylle Baier—believe me, I searched extensively—other than that she was German, primarily an actress rather than a singer although she contributed her only song at the time to an early Wim Wenders’ movie, and that the beautifully sad songs that constitute Colour Green were never meant for commercial release. How’s that for obscure?


So this is how the story goes … in 1970 a good friend of hers, concerned with Baier’s frail mood practically dragged her from her house for a roadtrip which would take them from Strasbourg and the Alps. Apparently, this became a sort of an epiphany for Baier, so between 1970 and 1973 she proceeded to write and save—to share with family and friends—this low-fi, melancholy set of reel-to-reel recordings. The first thing that might strike you about these songs is the consistent sadness of their melodies, akin to the mood she had been in at the time, and the tender phrasing of her voice. More than anybody else, this album will remind you of Vashti Bunyan—particularly her debut Just Another Diamond Day. Although the Bunyan’s songs were less imbued by somberness, they share a certain kinship with Baier’s songs, specially in voice tone and their hushed delivery.

"I Lost Something in the Hills"

Speaking of this album’s kinship, and going beyond musical comparisons, you may even think of what Sylvia Plath might have sound like if she chose to sing rather than poetry, which is not to say that Sibylle reaches Sylvia’s lyrical depth. Accompanied only by her guitar, Baier’s introspective songs come to life and communicate deeply with the listener. This particularly stands out in “Tonight,” “Forget About,” the title song—”Colour Green”— and “Give Me A Smile” which is also backed by strings. Still, the important thing is that this album, which had never been released before, presents a singer/songwriter of exquisite sensibility, sharing a very personal batch of songs that—although never intended for “the public” and, perhaps due to that—conjure up an intimate and gorgeous portrait of a woman’s inner life. If you are a friend of brave and intimate Folk, you will not be disappointed. (By

Orange Twin Page (Label)

We Are From Mali...We Are Lanaya!

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Lanaya are a trio from Mali, all three members of so called griot castes, groups who pass on the traditions and musics of their culture from generation to generation, responsible for protecting the legacy of their people and allowing it to live on forever. That's quite a responsibility for a young African three piece still in their early twenties, but their music is wise beyond their years, most certainly an indication that for this generation at least, the sounds of Mali will live on, a sweetly melodic, liltingly hypnotic take on traditional Malian folk music that is at once musically complex but also soft and simple. The instrumentation consists of the kora, a 21-string luteharp (played by Djibril Diabate, who you might remember from a past aQ list, and whose gorgeous album Hawa, also on Terp, we raved about a few years back), the balafon, a sort of African xylophone a bit like a marimba, and the ngoni, a small sized 7-string African guitar.

..."Djamana Djara"

The sound Lanaya conjure up with these instruments is truly sublime, a multilayered late evening soundscape of dense and dexterous melodies, dreamy and hypnotic, and so well crafted it's easy to forget how complex they actually are. The background is a rich tapestry of warm muted percussion and repetive melodic figures, played so fast and so smoothly that they sort of bleed into each other, each note drifting subtly into the notes beside it, the result is a slowly shifting warm and warbly dreamlike smear, while in the foreground, each instrument takes its turn with one extended improvisation after another, sometimes drifting and meditative, but just as often nimble and lively. The perfect blend of tranced out Eastern ragas and soft focus African folk music. Sweetly swoonsome and delicately dreamy. Perfect early morning, twilit evening, rainy day, drifting off music. (By Aquarius)

The Muzik Of West Africa

Some Of The Interesting Instruments Used By Lanaya:

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Tuesday, March 28

The New Album By The Sounds...Is It A Kinda Joke 'Boute Blondie? Cuz If It Do's, That's A Very Good One...The Joke I Mean

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Virtually everything written about the band over the last three years mentions how this band from the small southern Swedish city of Helsingborg stalks the stage like they think they're the greatest band in the world. "I can't really help myself onstage," singer Maja (pronounced "Mya") Ivarsson says. "We're not really putting on a show this is the way we are always." That attitude has helped bring the band from Helsingborg to the world. The Sounds' 2002 debut, "Living in America" made when the band members were barely out of high school debuted at #4 on the Swedish album charts and earned them several "best newcomer" awards and a Swedish Grammy. In America, the album firmly established the band and as one to watch as they played more than 300 gigs since its release, logging many miles on the Warped Tour as well as with the Foo Fighters and the Strokes. Besides being on every late-night TV show and featured in almost every national US publication, including the New York Times Sunday Magazine, which is startling for any band, let alone one from such a remote place, The Sounds also unexpectedly picked up a star-studded fan base, with Dave Grohl, Pharrell Williams, Quentin Tarantino, Bam Margera and even Britney Spears among the many publicly cosigning for the band.

& This Album Is Probably Just Another Swedish Joke...

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Monday, March 27

This Is An Amazing Music Documentary Film By The German Director Fatih Akin: "Crossing The Bridge: The Sound Of Istanbul" (2005\2006)

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Fatih Akin's Page At IMDB

BBC Talk About...

Music played a huge role in Fatih Akin's startling Head-On, so it's no great surprise to see the Turkish-German helmer dedicate an entire film to the subject. Crossing The Bridge: The Sound Of Istanbul offers a whistlestop tour of one city's sonic heritage, journeying through rock, rap, avant-garde and folksong. With the keynote being diversity, this documentary arguably favours breadth over depth; but it's still an eye-opening portrait, capturing several fine musical performances. Location is a key issue: situated on the cusp of Europe and Asia, Istanbul has absorbed a great wealth of cultural influences. Thus, as one commentator explains, the city gives the lie to the East/West divide that certain world leaders base their philosophy upon.

But it's the playing that's central here, not the politics. Our host is Alexander Hacke (of experimental German outfit Einstuerzende Neubauten) who, after finding his hotel in the colourful Beyoglu district, lets the acts do most of the talking while he records. One standout is motormouth rapper Ceza, offering such poetry as "one look at me and you're an invalid". Another is actor-turned-composer Orhan Gencebay (check out the cheesy film clips), while there's a stunning solo from Kurdish songstress Aynur. The sheer variety on display helpfully distracts from the film's repetitive structure. As in Head-On, Akin takes it down for a reflective finish, with veteran singer Sezen Aksu crooning Memories Of Istanbul intercut with footage of the city from back in the day. Signing off, Hacke laments that we've only seen the iceberg-tip, but this is still an illuminating introduction.

Channel 4 Talk About...

Einstürzende Neubauten bassist Alexander Hacke explores the music of Istanbul in this documentary by Head-On director Fatih Akin

Head-On, Fatih Akin's 2003 drama about two German-Turks pushed to the margins of contemporary Hamburg and Istanbul, was a powerful and ambitious film that took in sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, as well as the strictures of Islam and the volatility of love. Underpinning it was a soundtrack supervised by Alexander Hacke, bassist with German avant-industrialists Einstürzende Neubauten, which combined The Sisters Of Mercy and The Birthday Party with traditional Turkish and Eastern Mediterranean folk. It was an experience that set Hacke on his own voyage of musical discovery, documented in Akin's ear-to-the-ground documentary Crossing The Bridge: The Sound Of Istanbul. Rough around the edges but intimate and impassioned, it's a film that dives down Istanbul's back streets in search of the elusive spirit that unites buskers, rappers, punks and traditional musicians, all of whom have formulated their own relationship with the city's uniquely Euro-Asian culture.

Checking into the Grand Hotel De Londres in Beyoglu, Hacke follows his nose and immerses himself in the local scene. There he finds kids inspired by Bob Marley, Public Enemy, Kurt Cobain and the Sex Pistols, and one musician is frank about that old 'East is East and West is West' line, on which so much debate currently hinges: "it's bullshit". Winding his way through the clubs and bars, Hacke joins neo-psychedelic outfit Baba Zula, whose languidly exotic album 'Dubble Oryental' he subsequently played on and produced with British dub maestro Mad Professor.

A Reminder - "Eye of the Hunter" By Brendan Perry - 1999...& "Into the Labyrinth" By Dead Can Dance - 1993

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When Dead Can Dance's live album, Toward the Within, was released, I was excited by the direction in which Brendan Perry was moving with some of his work. There was a new, more down-to-earth quality about some songs, like "American Dreaming," produced without the occasionally shrill input of Lisa Gerrard. Unfortunately, Spiritchaser was Dead Can Dance's followup. I anxiously awaited the refinement of that musical wandering. When I picked up Eye of the Hunter, I had what I needed...almost. I can appreciate Perry's longing to deal with existential issues in unique settings, as in "Medusa." However, sometimes his mythological bent makes it sound like recording sessions were crammed between rounds of Dungeons and Dragons. That said, I actually dug the more traditional tunes, such as "Saturday's Child" and "I Must Have Been Blind." It was a relief to hear reaffirmation that Perry is not a one-trick Druid's pony. The best vibe on the album is the road-movie gloom of "Death Will Be My Bride," which must have made Nick Cave VERY jealous. Every song, of course, is topped with Perry's finely tuned baritone, (which he credits to his mom's Frank Sinatra collection). My biggest wish was for a bit more dynamism and motion in the material. We know from the most boisterous DCD work how big Perry can make music. However, if he broke a sweat while doing this album, it was from concentrating on its sonic perfection and complex imagery.> Review By belloq75

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AMG Review...
With a regular American deal in place for the first time ever, thanks to 4AD's linkup with the WEA conglomerate, Dead Can Dance made a splash on commercial alternative radio with "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove," the first single from Into the Labyrinth. Raga drones, a strange clattering beat, a haunting wind instrument, orchestral shading, and Perry's ever-grand voice make it one of the more unlikely things to be heard on the airwaves in a while. It all begins with yet another jaw-dropper from Gerrard, "Yulunga (Spirit Dance)," with keyboards and her octave-defying voice at such a deep, rich level that it sweeps all before it. Wordless as always but never without emotional heft, the song slowly slides into a slow but heavy percussion piece that sounds a bit like "Bird" from A Passage in Time, but with greater impact and memorability. As the album slowly unwinds over an hour's length, the two again create a series of often astounding numbers that sound like they should be millennia old, mixing and matching styles to create new fusions. Perhaps even more impressive is that everything was performed solely by Perry and Gerrard — no outside guests here, and yet everything is as detailed, lush, and multifaceted as many of their past albums. New classics from the band appear almost track for track: Gerrard's a cappella work on "The Wind That Shakes the Barley," the gentle beauty of "Ariadne," the rhythmic drive and chants of the title song. The conclusion is a slightly surprising but quite successful cover — "How Fortunate the Man With None," an adaptation of a classic Bertolt Brecht tune about the turn of fortune's wheel. Given a restrained arrangement and Perry's singing, it brings Labyrinth to a satisfying end.

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Friday, March 24

From The Polish Composer Zbigniew Preisner To I.L.U.B.I.C.D On The Baroque Path Of The Impossible Shapes To Okay Perfect Art Form...

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Peas On Space With Another Glorious Podcast No' 5.


*Zbigniew Preisner...Les Marionetts (The Puppets)
*Black Heart Procession..Tangled
*I Love U But I'v Chosen Darkness...Long Walk
*Badly Drawn Boy...Stone On The Water
*The Impossible Shapes...Tum
*Wilco...Ashes Of American Flags
*Jason Collet...Almost Summer
*Swearing At Motorists...Ten Dollars
*The New Year...Chinese Handcuffs
*Yeah Yeah Yeahs...Warrior
*Tv On The Radio...Dirty Whirlwind
*Liars...The Wrong Coat For u Mt. Heart Attack
*The Four Cornation...Tales (Live)

Play It...D L It...Suck It...Boom It...Cheese It...Lick It...Whatever...

Thursday, March 23

After Music for Robots issued a limited-edition compilation last year...Now It's "Soul Sides" Compi By Soul Sides Mp3 Blog, Check It Out

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Info By City Pages...
It stands to reason that the phenomenon of mp3 blogging would sooner or later result in related official (read "legally licensed") releases. After all, most sites have only enough bandwidth to keep tracks available for a week or two, and dedicated downloaders wind up with a hard drive full of mercilessly compressed audio. This brick-and-mortar outgrowth of journalist/DJ Oliver Wang's similarly titled site ( isn't the first project of its kind--the indie/electronica-centric Music for Robots issued a limited-edition compilation last year--but this early entry sets a high standard for those to come.

Online, Wang posts as much hip hop as anything else, but as the title suggests, this disc is dedicated to dusting off neglected soul gems, mostly of late-'60s/early-'70s vintage. With several tracks in print on single-artist collections ("I Forgot to Be Your Lover," by Stax stalwart William Bell) or other comps (Lee Moses's "Time and Place"), his criteria of inclusion isn't so much bottom-of-the-crate one-upsmanship as musical merit. Wang has a soft spot for songs that exist in better-known versions: Erma Franklin's pre-Janis "Piece of My Heart," Donny Hathaway's post-Lennon "Jealous Guy." The hook of "What a Man" resurfaced on Salt-N-Pepa/En Vogue's 1993 summit meeting; the 1968 original boasts a powerful, organic groove and the forceful voice of Linda Lyndell, who cut just two singles before dropping off the musical map.

Soul Sides also draws attention to career artists with deep, underappreciated catalogs. Amanda Ambrose, who has recorded in a range of jazz and blues contexts since the late '50s, nails the well-constructed pop-soul outing, "I Ain't Singing (No More Sad Songs)" with her piercing, slightly dry delivery. And then there's "Latin Funk Brother" Joe Battan, whose 1967 "Ordinary Guy" combines heartbreak and identity politics: "I'm just an Afro-Filipino/average sort of guy/who you left behind." (The salsa break and far-out organ solo don't hurt, either.) For many listeners, these tracks will be major discoveries, and even those familiar with the field can do as Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings' 2005 disc-closer advises and "fall in love all over again."

Soul Sides Blog


Zealous Records...Were U Can Listen

Music For Robots Blog & The Compilation Cd

Info By Pitchfork...
Now that all the hubbub surrounding those newfangled mp3 blogs has died down, it's time to separate the wheat from the chaff. Sure, any hipster nerd with a DSL connection can share his/her eclectic taste with the world, but it takes real skill to keep web surfers coming back. I mean, a Kevin Federline track isn't going to leak every day.

Journalist/activist/DJ/all-around cool dude Oliver Wang (or O-Dub if you're nasty) has maintained Soul Sides, one of the best audioblogs on the net, since early 2004. An invaluable source of unearthed R&B, soul, funk, and hip-hop tunes, Soul Sides uses Wang's bottomless record collection for its source material.

And now, those deep cuts will be available to everyone, even those without a DSL connection. Wang has partnered with Zealous Records to bring the listening public Zealous Records Presents Soul Sides Volume One, a compilation of rare soul music, which will hit stores March 21.

How rare, you ask? It's got Aretha Franklin's sister, Erma, singing the original recording of "Piece of My Heart." It's got Donny Hathaway doing John Lennon's "Jealous Guy". It's got Clarence Reid before he was Blowfly. Consider yourself schooled.


01 Charles May and Annette May Thomas - "Keep My Baby Warm"
02 Clarence Reid - "Master Piece"
03 Lee Moses - "Time and Place"
04 Amanda Ambrose - " (I Ain't Singing) No More Sad Songs"
05 Erma Franklin - "Piece of My Heart"
06 Donny Hathaway - "Jealous Guy"
07 Linda Lyndell - "What a Man"
08 Jimmy Jones - "Live and Let Live"
09 Ann Sexton - "You're Gonna Miss Me"
10 Johnny "Guitar" Watson - "Loving You"
11 Joe Bataan - "Ordinary Guy"
12 Weldon Irvine - "Morning Sunrise"
13 William Bell - "I Forgot to Be Your Lover"
14 Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings - "All Over Again"

A portion of the proceeds from the disc's sales will go to the nonprofit Rhythm and Blues Foundation, an organization that provides financial and medical assistance to older R&B artists who, to be blunt, got screwed over by the system, ya'll. So by buying this CD, you can damn the man, save the empire, and take a soul trip all in one fell swoop.

Saturday, March 11

"Just Like the Fambly Cat" By Grandaddy. Yep, We All Know It's The End, But What An Amazing Death Procession To Finish It...Wow!

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...Let's Have Another One Moment Of Silence...

O K, Now Check Out One Song From The Last Album By Grandaddy:

"Rear View Mirror" mp3

That's It...Were Out Of Here!!!

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Their Own Space Land

A Reminder - "LKJ in DUB" 1980 By Linton Kwesi Johnson. Perfect Dub Versions From "Forces Of Victory" & "Bass Culture" Albums.

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Full Discography Of LKJ

AMG Bio...

Although he has only released one album of new material in the last ten years, and has virtually retired from the live stage after his 1985 tour, Linton Kwesi Johnson remains a towering figure in reggae music. Born in Kingston, Jamaica and raised in the Brixton section of London, Johnson invented dub poetry, a type of toasting descended from the DJ stylings of U-Roy and I-Roy. But whereas toasting tended to be hyperkinetic and given to fits of braggadocio, Johnson's poetry (which is what it was -- he was a published poet and journalist before he performed with a band) was more scripted and delivered in a more languid, slangy, streetwise style. Johnson's grim realism and tales of racism in an England governed by Tories was scathingly critical. The Afro-Brits in Johnson's poems are neglected by the government and persecuted by the police. Johnson was also instrumental (with his friend Darcus Howe) in the publication of a socialist-oriented London-based newspaper, Race Today, that offered him and other like-minded Britons both black and white an outlet to discuss the racial issues that, under Margaret Thatcher's reign, seemed to be tearing the country apart. For one so outspoken in his politics, Johnson's recorded work, while politically explicit, is not simply a series of slogans or tuneful/danceable jeremiads. In fact, is was his second release, Forces of Victory, where his mix of politics and music united to stunning effect. Dennis Bovell and the Dub Band could swing (as in jazzy) more than many reggae bands, and guitarist John Kpiaye, the group's secret weapon, offered deftly played, dazzlingly melodic solos. But it was Johnson's moving poetry, galvanizing moments such as "Sonny's Lettah" and "Fite Dem Back" that made it obvious that this was a major talent.

Although he never intended to, Johnson became a star, in England anyway; in America he had a small yet devoted group of fans. But political activism was as important, perhaps more important, than churning out records and touring, and after the release of his third album, Bass Culture, in 1980, Johnson took time off from the music scene, turning his back on a lucrative contract from Island. He continued to perform, but it was poetry readings at universities, at festivals in the Caribbean, and for trade union workers in Trinidad. His organizing activities included the setting up the First International Book Fair of Radical Black and Third World Books, and greater involvement with the political organizations with which he had been long identified, namely the Race Today Collective and the Alliance of the Black Parents Movement. In 1982, the BBC commissioned Johnson to create a series of radio programs on Jamaican popular music, a subject he'd been researching for years. The programs, entitled From Mento to Lovers Rock, were more than just musical history; Johnson contextualized Jamaican music socially and politically and offered a more nuanced and thorough examination of the popular music of his native and adopted countries.

Johnson returned to the pop music scene in 1984 with perhaps his best record, Making History. Again working with Dennis Bovell, Johnson's seething political anger suffuses this recording, but it is never undone by simple vituperation. Johnson is, if anything, a thoughtful radical, more analytical than simplistic, and that adds to the power of these seven songs. Unfortunately, this would be the last new music from Johnson until 1991's Tings an' Times, which proved yet again that regardless of how much time he takes off from music, when LKJ returns it's as if he's never missed a beat. His most recent period of recording silence has been broken by the release of a music-less poetry album.

Ugly Duckling New Album! "Bang for the Buck"...Once Again, There The Best Happy & Freaky Party In Town...

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Formed in Long Beach, California around 1993, lyricists Andy and Dizzy and D.J. Young Einstein have been putting out classic hip-hop records and touring the world for the last 6 years. They've earned acclaim and respect within Hip-Hop culture while consistently selling records and even grabbing an occasional international chart position. Amazingly, U.D. has rocked 5 continents on a quest to spread their positive and exciting brand of music. They recently performed in China becoming only the second rap group to do so.

Watch The New Video > "Smack" <

Or D L It > Here <

Coming off of their last release (the cult-famous concept album "Taste the Secret") the boys needed to get back to basics. Dizzy proclaims, "We wanted to do something more straight-up and raw that would have an instant impact on a listener". Einstein adds, "We made the songs more up-tempo, hi-powered and bold". BANG FOR THE BUCK is just that. 12 relentless tracks with slamming breaks, funky basslines, huge horn sections and tight, aggressive rapping. Inspired by the energy and excitement or live performance, the group sought to translate the on-stage feeling to the recording process. The result is an album that is almost combustible.

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Friday, March 10

Best Song Writers - Tim Buckley.

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Bio By AMG...

One of the great rock vocalists of the 1960s, Tim Buckley drew from folk, psychedelic rock, and progressive jazz to create a considerable body of adventurous work in his brief lifetime. His multi-octave range was capable of not just astonishing power, but great emotional expressiveness, swooping from sorrowful tenderness to anguished wailing. His restless quest for new territory worked against him commercially: By the time his fans had hooked into his latest album, he was onto something else entirely, both live and in the studio. In this sense he recalled artists such as Miles Davis and David Bowie, who were so eager to look forward and change that they confused and even angered listeners who wanted more stylistic consistency. However, his eclecticism has also ensured a durable fascination with his work that has engendered a growing posthumous cult for his music, often with listeners who were too young (or not around) to appreciate his music while he was active.

Buckley emerged from the same '60s Orange County, CA, folk scene that spawned Jackson Browne and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Mothers of Invention drummer Jimmy Carl Black introduced Buckley and a couple of musicians Buckley was playing with to the Mothers' manager, Herbie Cohen. Although Cohen may have first been interested in Buckley as a songwriter, he realized after hearing some demos that Buckley was also a diamond in the rough as a singer. Cohen became Buckley's manager, and helped the singer get a deal with Elektra.

Before Buckley had reached his 20th birthday, he'd released his debut album. The slightly fey but enormously promising effort highlighted his soaring melodies and romantic, opaque lyrics. Baroque psychedelia was the order of the day for many Elektra releases of the time, and Buckley's early folk-rock albums were embellished with important contributions from musicians Lee Underwood (guitar), Van Dyke Parks (keyboards), Jim Fielder (bass), and Jerry Yester. Larry Beckett was also an overlooked contributor to Buckley's first two albums, co-writing many of the songs.

The fragile, melancholic, orchestrated beauty of the material had an innocent quality that was dampened only slightly on the second LP, Goodbye and Hello (1967). Buckley's songs and arrangements became more ambitious and psychedelic, particularly on the lengthy title track. This was also his only album to reach the Top 200, where it only peaked at number 171; Buckley was always an artist who found his primary constituency among the underground, even for his most accessible efforts. His third album, Happy Sad, found him going in a decidedly jazzier direction in both his vocalizing and his instrumentation, introducing congas and vibes. Though it seemed a retreat from commercial considerations at the time, Happy Sad actually concluded the triumvirate of recordings that are judged to be his most accessible.

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The truth was, by the late '60s Buckley was hardly interested in folk-rock at all. He was more intrigued by jazz; not only soothing modern jazz (as heard on the posthumous release of acoustic 1968 live material, Dream Letter), but also its most avant-garde strains. His songs became much more oblique in structure, and skeletal in lyrics, especially when the partnership with Larry Beckett was ruptured after the latter's induction into the Army. Some of his songs abandoned lyrics almost entirely, treating his voice itself as an instrument, wordlessly contorting, screaming, and moaning, sometimes quite cacophonously. In this context, Lorca was viewed by most fans and critics not just as a shocking departure, but a downright bummer. No longer was Buckley a romantic, melodic poet; he was an experimental artiste who sometimes seemed bent on punishing both himself and his listeners with his wordless shrieks and jarringly dissonant music.

Almost as if to prove that he was still capable of gentle, uplifting jazzy pop-folk, Buckley issued Blue Afternoon around the same time. Bizarrely, Blue Afternoon and Lorca were issued almost simultaneously, on different labels. While an admirable demonstration of his versatility, it was commercial near-suicide, each album canceling the impact of the other, as well as confusing his remaining fans. Buckley found his best middle ground between accessibility and jazzy improvisation on 1970's Starsailor, which is probably the best showcase of his sheer vocal abilities, although many prefer the more cogent material of his earliest albums.

By this point, though, Buckley's approach was so uncommercial that it was jeopardizing his commercial survival. And not just on record; he was equally uncompromising as a live act, as the posthumously issued Live at the Troubadour 1969 demonstrates, with its stretched-to-the-limit jams and searing improv vocals. For a time, he was said to have earned his living as a taxi driver and chauffeur; he also flirted with films for a while. When he returned to the studio, it was as a much more commercial singer/songwriter (some have suggested that various management and label pressures were behind this shift).

As much of a schism as Buckley's experimental jazz period created among fans and critics, his final recordings have proved even more divisive, even among big Buckley fans. Some view these efforts, which mix funk, sex-driven lyrical concerns, and laid-back L.A. session musicians, as proof of his mastery of the blue-eyed soul idiom. Others find them a sad waste of talent, or relics of a prodigy who was burning out rather than conquering new realms. Neophytes should be aware of the difference of critical opinion regarding this era, but on the whole his final three albums are his least impressive. Those who feel otherwise usually cite the earliest of those LPs, Greetings from L.A. (1972), as his best work from his final phase.

Buckley's life came to a sudden end in the middle of 1975, when he died of a heroin overdose just after completing a tour. Those close to him insist that he had been clean for some time and lament the loss of an artist who, despite some recent failures, still had much to offer. Buckley's stock began to rise among the rock underground after the Cocteau Twins covered his "Song for the Siren" in the 1980s. The posthumous releases of two late-'60s live sets (Dream Letter and Live at the Troubadour 1969) in the early '90s also boosted his profile, as well as unveiling some interesting previously unreleased compositions. His son Jeff Buckley went on to mount a musical career as well before his own tragic death in 1997.

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"Tim Buckley - Beautiful Dreamer"
(review of Happy/Sad)
by Pete Frame - 1968:

"When you're in a recording studio, you have time and money, so you go into this dreamland," says Tim Buckley.

And that's exactly what he does. Into a peculiarly vivid and enveloping dreamland. A land at once intensely personal and totally beguiling to the listener. Tales of love, of war, and feelings, and mornings, and more love; told in words of sophisticated, soft, satin magic; in musical settings elevating the sometimes tempestuous, sometimes so gentle songs, to works of breathtaking beauty.

The picturesque backdrop against which he has lurched from comparative obscurity to comparative fame in three years, is almost too good to be true. Teenage in the hip mould of poet ridden Venice, Calif., "discovery" by Mother Jimmy Earl Black in a small West Coast folk club, appearances at the legendary star catalyst Night Owl in Greenwich Village, an Elektra contract, unsolicited testimonials from every discerning musician from George Harrison to Frank Zappa and two superb albums.

Happy Sad is his third record. A treasure of incredible, rare aesthetic excellence.
Usually when I listen to a record for the first time, I like to lie on the floor, wearing phones or just lying near the speakers, with a pencil and paper nearby so that I can catch initial impressions -- so that repeated listening doesn't lose or distort my immediate reactions, which often don't recur. But with Happy Sad, I was so preoccupied with the sleeve, that I hardly got a thing down. In a word, it's about the best sleeve that I've ever seen. The photograph (by Ed Caraeff) of Buckley, with his mind clambering around in some distant sink of melancholy, is stunning. A finer, more delicately shaded description of the title would not have been possible -- it's as if you can see through his eyes and recreate his mood and mental environment. And the lettering -- a small detail, but so thoughtfully chosen and executed.

The most frequent criticism of Buckley's live work, is from people who find his melodies too similar and indifferent. Oblivious of the audience, they say, he enters his dreamworld and consequently after a while, his spell weaving palls and provokes a distracting monotony which the lyrical beauty just cannot support. Well. Fair enough. If they don't like him, that's their hang up. But they lose. His melodies are arrestingly inventive, and the settings exquisite, springing from the supremely excellent musical and mental harmony between he and his musicians, particularly Lee Underwood, his bearded lead guitarist, who is so cool, and so competent. Sitting there, -- easily, quiet like a shy boy at school, feeling out the arrangements for the softer songs with such delicacy. And on the faster material, like 'Buzzin' Fly', which you know is just off his scene, you can almost feel his tongue piercing his lips in concentration -- but he still achieves perfection.

If you saw Buckley at Queen Elizabeth Hall a few months ago, most of the songs will be familiar. 'Love from Room 109' has been haunting me since his visit, and his Late Night Line Up and Top Gear appearances. What a ridiculously fine song. As I listen, I can see him sitting there, hunched over his twelvestring, his plectrum up and down, easing out mellow waves, up and down. And him with his bony face and ragged hair, leaning into the microphone, lips teasing its phallic form, the sinews of his neck taut as he strains and twists, contorting his delivery with lip manipulation, clinging to syllables and wringing out their meanings. The imagery, of love, is simple but intense. Such a thorough feeling of intense sincerity. And in the background, the Pacific Ocean, pacifying. Here is a song which, like 'Sad Eyed Lady of The Lowland', cannot provoke boredom by over familiarity. The more you listen, the more detail is revealed. Really so nice.

There are only six songs, but most are long, and all are beautiful. 'Buzzin' Fly', recalling an endless summer which ended, exemplifies Buckley's rapport with his sidesmen. "They are aware of the form. Everything is improvisation really, but the form is always there." Instead of easing out gentleness, Lee Underwood pulls out some controlled harshness. He's such an interesting musician, lacking the innovation of some, but setting out and succeeding wondrously in embellishing the song -- not protruding at all. He's always on Buckley's wavelength, tickling out his graceful decorations almost.

Incidentally, the musicians on the album are Buckley's usual concert accompanists, and the song 'Gypsy Woman' is Carter C.C. Collin's conga drum tour de force. For the obvious reasons of the live/recorded music gap, Buckley's ten minute solo is drastically cut, but he sets the decor, creates the atmosphere of caravans, horses, red bandanas, full swirling skirts, big gold earrings, and geraniums lips. Buckley is very fond of romanticising underdogs ('Morning Glory' for instance). He sees sincerity, attributes and romance where most of us see only dirt. Or maybe he feels an affinity to their nomadic lives. (What are American gypsies like I wonder, or is this another dream -- of classical, Romanies?). A very dramatically contoured, furious song; he is screaming in tormented exultation. (Who is this? It surely can't be early Presley. I just cannot place the similarity).

'Strange Feeling'. What a unique voice, tingling with anguish, an almost suffocating desperation -- rising, writhing, falling, moaning, strangled, sensuous, but always controlled. Always pure. Always coaxed out with an uncanny precision of pitch. Very distinctive, and very beautiful. An "everything's gonna be alright" song, musically very reminiscent of the Miles Davis Quartet's 'Blue in Green' -- lovely vibes playing by David Friedman. This is soul singing. (Not as conveyed by Sam & Dave and their ilk who, ineptly labelled by some ignorant cretin, have little more soul than Des O'Connor, but just a kind of inherent exuberance). Singing from his soul, with his soul. Clinging, soothing introspection -- practically exposing his nerve ends, full of hopes and poignancy. Taking you right into his mind when he wrote it.

On his recent visit, he was singing the Fred Neil song 'Dolphins', which he did very well and very differently. It's a real pity it wasn't included here, but never mind. Which reminds me, I once saw Buckley quoted as saying "I don't listen to any of my contemporaries." That was a while ago, since when he has certainly been doing a lot of listening to Fred Neil -- but then, which American folksingers haven't? Listen to his vocal inflection on the opening track for instance.

Larry Becket? Yes, what happened to his lyric collaborator of previous albums? I read that, too despondent to accompany his friend on tour, he was remaining in Venice to record a poetry album for Elektra and to write songs for others. But that was months ago.

When Goodbye ad Hello was released in America, I used to get long letters from Mac, who was living in California at the time, saying how his most pleasurable hours were those spent engulfed in the album whilst meandering over the words in the fold out sleeve (U.S. version) he had spread before him. This is another record to just listen to. But this is better. It's the kind of record you think you should inscribe the words "for perfect listening conditions only" on. But you know you want to listen to it a lot, and anyway, the opening bars induce a perfect, lyrical, floating state.

The intensity is what particularly spills out of the record, and this is where its beauty lies. So acutely and delicately. I could quote lyric snippets, but unclad in their music and Buckley's voice, they would mean so much less. But just listen to the sincerity of the man; the truth of his emotional and sexual thinkings. Happy in dream and memory, sad in present recollection, restlessly wrestling with hopeless voids. Listen to it. A love record -- to absorb in solitude. To just lie and listen to. Over and over. "But all I have to give, are my dreams".

Thursday, March 9

A Reminder - "The Facts of Life" (2000 - Jetset) By Black Box Recorder...Isn't It A Splendid & Pure British Album About The Real Facts Of Life?

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You take the good, you take the Badalamenti -- anyone who thinks The Facts of Life includes half-baked songs without meat is missing the point. Would you consider dumping a bucket of lime green paint on that new marble countertop in your kitchen nook? Didn't think so. That's pretty much what you'd be doing to Black Box Recorder's second LP if you feel the tunes need more substance. Half-baked? Not in the least; The Facts of Life is a fresh wedge of sourdough (dourdough?), just as simple but more tasty. Luke Haines and John Moore get the most mileage possible out of their sparse, noir-tinged melancholia, rarely needing extraneous things like overdubs or distortion for the sake of it. Sarah Nixey increases her stock as a worthy Bond siren, less kitschy and more swaggerly than that other Sarah. Like the finest charms of songs by the other Sarah's St. Etienne, "Weekend" carries its weight as a gorgeous, slightly upbeat pop song. You want catchy simplicity? Try a chorus of "Friday night/Saturday morning," with Haines' hypnotically shimmering guitar spirals to add accent. Flashes of Haines' tasteful glam jones run rampant in "Straight Life," which slyly references Roxy Music in a number of ways. The play on Roxy Music's "Street Life" is apparent in the title, as well as having lyrical nods to Roxy's "In Every Dream Home aHeartache."

Seemingly embracing middle class Englishness while simultaneously rejecting it, Nixey ponders escaping transient lifestyles while grimacing at the thought of home repairs. Black Box Recorder is a master of the simple, effective melody (as are Haines' Auteurs). Also, not too many vocalists possess Nixey's ridiculous skill at making sheer boredom sound so affecting. If David Lynch should ever film a TV series in England, here are the soundtrack composers. "Hey folks, have you seen Angelo Badalamenti and Julee Cruise?" Sorry mate, we dropped them off at Big Ed's Gas Farm. They're in a bag, wrapped in plastic.

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Some More Bla Bla Bla... By The Splendid Mag...

Luke Haines has always had a knack for turning the mundane and ordinary into the erotic and mysterious. This has been apparent since his early work with the Auteurs, which often saw him transmuting everyday occurrences into ribald fantasies. But when I listen to Haines' early work, it's now clear that there was something missing: the haunting voice of Black Box Recorder vocalist Miss Sarah Nixey. In Nixey, Haines has not only found the perfect voice with which to paint his tawdry vignettes, but the ultimate sex symbol to front his otherwise faceless group.

Now, after appearing on countless British end-of-the-year-best-of lists, Black Box Recorder's sophomore effort is finally seeing the light of Stateside day.

On The Facts of Life, Haines and musical co-conspirator cum multi-instrumentalist John Moore construct a vast sonic wonderland in which Nixey’s starry-eyed vocals are given free reign. "The Art of Driving" finds her cooing seductively over twinkling percussion and gentle breaks as she and Haines engage in an erotically charged musical conversation. "Weekend" and "Straight Life" showcase Moore’s more unabashedly pop leanings, employing ultra-smooth production and shimmering keyboards to create something that certainly wouldn’t sound out of place among our current crop of boy/girl bands. But for all intents and purposes this is the Haines & Nixey show, and when they’re on they’re really on, as "May Queen"'s synthetic country-soul balladry and "Gift Horse"'s roughed-up production and Baroque piano flourishes will certainly attest.

The US release of The Facts of Life contains two bonus tracks that nearly steal the show. "Start as You Mean to Go On" finds Haines and Moore replacing their sumptuous symphonies with a dirty, Pulp-like guitar dirge. In contrast, "Brutality"'s title couldn’t be further from the truth; its genteel Morricone-aping production and slinky vocals sound as soft as silk and twice as pretty.

While The Facts of Life probably won't catapult Black Box Recorder to the level of Stateside success experienced by Coldplay and Travis, it is certainly a release worthy of your undivided attention. Though these Facts of Life are more subtle (and morbid) than current mainstream Britpop, their stark and sometimes disturbing details will still be with you long after you’re through being "Yellow".

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Wednesday, March 8

...Fine Words By Aquarius About The Arctic Monkeys & The British Lunatic Society...Get A Grip On Y'r Self Manu!

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Okay, yeah, we know. Who really gives a shit about the Arctic Monkeys? Oh, you mean besides the British press and the band's thousands of friends on MySpace and every hipster in tight pants who is "so over" the Killers and Interpol and Franz Ferdinand? We weren't even going to review this. In fact we were prepared to hate. A band with that much hype before they even have a record out can never be a good thing. British new music mag NME voted the Arctic Monkeys one of the 50 best British bands OF ALL TIME!! I'd be afraid to see numbers 51 through 100, the ones who were bumped to make room for a band who at the time had only released a single. But, and it's a BIG BUT, this record is awesome. Really. It does pain us to admit it, but this is one of the best new records we've heard in ages. Wouldn't go so far as top 50 British bands ever, but shit man, we can't stop listening to this. Seriously, every day.

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So waht's it sound like? Well, it definitely fits comfortably right there amidst the Killers, Franz Ferdinand, Maximo Park, Kaiser Chiefs, Cup thinks they sound just like Hot Hot Heat for that brief moment when they were really really good. Not so much channelling 'new wave' but more sort of reimagining the sound of the Fall, but where Pavement turned the fall into ironic indie slouch rock jangle, the Arctic Monkeys twist it into some impossibly hooky dancey drunken night out at the pub. Angular guitars, sort of scrape-y and edgy and scrappy and jagged, super kinetic almost funky rhythms, killer melodies, bouncy tempos, lots of shuffle and start stop jangle and roar. And killer keening vocals, a little bit whine-y, but scruffy and capable of wailing when necessary. And the most amazingly thick Scottish brogue, ya know when the word "scumbag" sounds like "skoooombeg".

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And let's not forget the songs. By now most of you have heard the excellently titled "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor", a perfect blast of bubbly snotty bouncy dance punk. But then there's tracks like "When The Sun Goes Down" with its moody sad boy intro all sweet sad vocals and minor key clean guitars that explode into a pounding kick ass chaotic rocker, with a killer riff and a totally impossible to resist groove. And the thing is, every song on here is just as good. So while the band will probably end up disappearing, breaking up or calling it quits after this record, I mean, how impossible is it to live up to all the critical accolades (imagine being held up alongside bands like the Clash and the Jam, all before the age of 20) but for now, you might as well believe the hype.

Saturday, March 4

Debut Album By Mystery Jets Out In 679 Recordings...

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Album Samples At Juno

Watch Mystery Jets first single of 2006 - "The Boy Who Ran Away"

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2 Live mp3's

Mystery Jets - Alas Agnes (Live @ NME Awards Tour Bristol 13-02-06)

Mystery Jets - You Can't Fool Me Dennis (Live @ NME Tour Bristol 13-02-06)

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Some Early Info By Gig Wise:

It’s 15:30 on a clear January afternoon in Liverpool. As we approach the venue for today’s interview, the air is cool yet sparked with anticipation. To many of the people who already have tickets for tonight (but particularly to those who will later pay up to eighty quid for one of the hundreds bought by the black-coated swarm of touts) the tour means one thing: Arctic Monkeys. To many others though, it also means the chance to see one of the UK’s most successful talents and most awesome live acts, Maximo Park; the emo-with-‘taches stomp of the America’s We Are Scientists; and our hosts today, the frankly otherworldly Mystery Jets.

On getting to the Liverpool Academy to meet the Eel Pie Islanders, it becomes apparent that they’re living up to their name and have mysteriously flown off elsewhere. “I seem to have lost my band,” apologises tour manager Dan, “they’ve taken to going missing during the day and Blaine (Blaine Harrison, Mystery Jets frontman) always loses his phone… ” The title of their forthcoming single ‘The Boy Who Ran Away’ is starting to ring true, it seems. Fortunately, any danger of an aborted mission is quickly sorted out with a couple of phone calls to guitarist Will Rees, and 10 minutes later we’re meeting with the heroes of our little tale in a soul music-themed café in the city centre where Blaine is finishing off “breakfast”. Breakfast at this time, Blaine? Gigwise takes it that this tour has been of the messy but fun variety?

“Out of all the tours we’ve done, this has been one of the most fun. Which rhymes, actually!” states Blaine, evidently thinking about the lyrics for the next album even at this early stage. “It’s not like a headline band - support band thing; all the bands go out together after the gig and find a bar, grab a corner and talk. It’s like a travelling circus: so far it’s been great fun and no-one’s been p*ssed off with one another.” It seems the boys have made particularly good friends in We Are Scientists: “We’ve been picking up really nice vibes from them. They take the piss out of themselves, which I think is such a good quality” – sentiments which are later echoed by main Scientist Keith Murray: “those guys are probably our best friends on the tour!” he blearily enthuses to Gigwise at a local indie night.

Surely, however, the tour dynamic must have been affected by the craze for all things Arctic Monkey-shaped that’s sweeping the nation? When even a national tabloid is reporting that fans are leaving in their droves straight after the Arctic Monkeys’ set, hugely reducing the numbers to which 'headliners' Maximo Park play, surely that’s got to have an adverse effect on inter-band relationships? “I wish I could say it had! But to be honest, Arctic Monkeys are so grounded, they don’t brag about anything! Sometimes it’s us that has to tell them how many records they’re selling!” And how about our Geordie friends? “Maximo Park have had such a tough thing put in front of them, playing above basically the biggest band in the country. But they’ve dealt with it so well; and as for the audiences, they’ve been moshing pretty hard to Arctic Monkeys, but they’ve still showed a lot of support to Maximo Park.”

This all sounds a bit too friendly. Four bands on the road playing to each other’s fans every night and there hasn’t been one hint of a petty squabble? Come on Blaine, dish some dirt! “Well there has been bad behaviour. Most nights we head out and we’ve had our fair share of DJ battles with Maximo Park and We Are Scientists. In Glasgow, we were DJing upstairs and Maximo Park were DJing downstairs, so I kept sneaking down to listen to what they were playing, making sure we weren’t playing the same stuff. Every now and then we would be and I’d be like, “BASTARDS! WE’VE JUST PLAYED STEVIE WONDER!” But there hasn’t been any dirt; we often park all our tour buses next to each other so sometimes you walk back pretty pissed and wander onto the wrong tour bus. You don’t get chucked out – you just have a brew with whoever it is! Everyone’s getting on so well.”

At this point, Gigwise chooses to break the heartbreaking news to the boys that teeny-bopper institution Smash Hits has today announced it’s demise; news that clearly affects Blaine: “It was a big part of my childhood, TOTP magazine and Smash Hits. I was part of The Spice Girls fanbase!” he jokes. In honour of the sadly defunct rag, let’s ask The Mystery Jets a typically vacuous Smash Hits-style question: who in the band has the smelliest feet? Will and drummer Kapil Trivedi look up from their couch to stare accusatorily at Blaine, forcing the mop-headed frontman into counter-attack: “He’s the cleanest,” he nods at Kapil. “He grooms. When he goes to the toilet he will literally scrub every finger nail.” Maybe you should mention this in future interviews; get that that Body Shop sponsorship in the bag? “Yeah! Arctic Monkeys get free Puma shoes – we should be getting some free shampoo!”

Apart from being on one of the biggest make-‘em-or-break-‘em tours on the gig calendar, the other big news in Mystery Jets-ville is the completion of their debut album 'Making Dens', to be released on 679 Records on 6 March. Coming on the back of single ‘The Boy Who Ran Away’, this release could well see The Mystery Jets becoming one of the year’s biggest breakthrough stories, having racked up a devoted fanbase, a succession of twisted prog-punk singles and a series of gloriously shambolic tours over the last year. So, what’s the story behind the record’s title? “That’s not a very Smash Hits style question!” Blaine laughs. “Well, first of all, it’s the name of the last track on the album. But I think what the title means – though I think it’s cool to leave it open to interpretation – is… well, we wanted to find an identity for the album which actually described the whole process of making the album itself."

“Some of my favourite songs – not just our music – are songs that would get me through a difficult period. I remember there was a time at school when a friend of mine had a cousin who died, who’d had this amazing band. For a long time I listened to their music and it totally took me to a place that I wanted to be; and for a long time I listened to Procul Harem’s ‘Whiter Shade Of Pale’, every night before I went to bed – for about six months. And what that song came to represent was almost like a dream-like state, or a parallel place that’s totally private. That’s what my favourite kind of music is: music that takes you to a kind of private place. And that’s basically what a den is, somewhere that you can crawl away to; you’ll build it out of twigs, up a tree or under the ground but it’s your private place; no-one can discover it, it belongs to you. That’s what ‘Making Dens’ means – we wanted to make 12 little songs that people can crawl away to.”

Wednesday, March 1

The Rogers Sisters New Album. The Question Is: If "The Invisible Deck" Is Out After Its Scene's Moment In The Limelight has Passed? mmm...Two Options

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A twitchy dance-rock combo (non-electroclash division) that was playing Brooklyn house parties before they'd settled on a name, the Rogers Sisters first came across as a footnote to the crop of like-minded acts New York produced circa Y2K. But with early adopters either undergoing rapid stylistic shifts (Black Dice, Liars) or simply failing to live up to the hype (the Rapture, anybody?), the trio is beginning to sound like survivors. Named for a trick-card effect well-known in magic circles, The Invisible Deck doesn't radically rethink the dynamic forged on 2003's Purely Evil, but it does add a few new wrinkles to a subgenre that's otherwise closing in on its sell-by date.

Producer Tim Barnes, the Silver Jews drummer best known for his improv collaborations with Sonic Youth, wisely leaves the band's signature virtue intact--namely, the vocal interaction between Jennifer and Laura Rogers's chirpiness and non-sibling Miyuki Furtado's unforced rock delivery. What Barnes brings to the table is the means, or at least the license, for the members to spread their wings as instrumentalists. The thudding toms-and-maracas undertow of the opening "Why Won't You" would have been unthinkable on earlier releases. So would the rich guitar tones of "Money Matters," which begins with a sweeping electric-acoustic blend boosted from "Love Will Tear Us Apart" before detonating a barrage of Goo-ey squalls.

Unfortunately, the group's new sonic confidence isn't always matched by their material. "Your Littlest World" justifies its 6:41 with trippy, flute-and-feedback textures, but the even longer "Sooner or Later," chorus aside, is a monochord meander only a Krautrocker could love. Nothing here balances goofiness and gravity as arrestingly as the debut's global-warming-themed "Zero Point," though "The Clock" comes close, as references to "Three Blind Mice" ("the butcher's wife/a carving knife") interrupt a countdown to who-knows-what ("The clock struck one...the clock struck none"), sung by Furtado and one of the Rogers with an abandon that only increases the mystery. Even with its inconsistencies, The Invisible Deck has the unmistakable sound of a band finding its own way after its scene's moment in the limelight has passed. By City Pages

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Anyone who heard 2005’s ‘Emotion Control’ – The Rogers Sisters’ spasmodic fusion of rumbling alt. country and icily detached punk poetics – will know that the Brooklyn-based threesome make the kind of nonchalant hipster-rock that only ever comes out of New York. But this album takes that super-cool, 'you-talkin’-ta-me?' aesthetic, throws in a bunch of scuzzy guitars and some punk-funk vim, and rocks. Sort of.

Ok, we’ll explain. ‘The Invisible Deck’ starts off with a triumvirate of twitchy, delinquent fuzz-pop tunes. There’s ‘Why Won’t You’, on which the sole male Sister, Miyuki Furtado, spits schizophrenic lyrics, argues with himself and ends the song shouting ‘I’m gone!’ into a garage-y squall. Real sisters Jennifer and Laura take over vocal duties on ‘Never Learn To Cry’, and their sweetypie singing is the candyfloss coating to the song’s spiky guitar thrills – it’s like Veruca Salt fronting Bloc Party. Then there’s ‘The Light’, which has the Sisters pronouncing ‘No known diseases’ like they’re giving a clean bill of health at an STD clinic. A punk rock STD clinic, obviously.

After these crackers, the album takes a shadowy turn towards the (heart of) darkness. ‘Your Littlest World’ is primal, spaced-out acid-rock that sounds like the Jesus and Mary Chain getting stoned to the Velvets while watching 'Apocalypse Now'. The great thing about the Rogers Sisters is that even when they’re playing squarely within a much-referenced rock tradition like this, their fabulously artificial-sounding vocals manage to impart a nicely ironic edge, updating it instantly, rather than coming across as Black Rebel copyists.

But after the sucker-punch of the first clutch of songs, the album starts to run out of steam. One too many tracks full of mussed-up guitar dronery goes by, and art-rock fatigue starts to set in. As the Sisters themselves say on ‘Money Matters’, ‘I don’t care, it’s not enough, I want more’. The album’s palette seems too restricted for ten tracks, and you find yourself wanting something more: a tune maybe, or something beyond the uniform aloofness. Maybe, like the Babyshambles album, it would have made a better mini-album. But like we said, it still rocks. By Gigwise

The Clock - mp3

On Too Pure Records

The Rogers Sisters