Category: Rewind Reviews

Rewind Review: The Damned – The Captain’s Birthday Party Live at the Roundhouse (2016)

Recorded live November 27, 1977, The Damned‘s The Captain’s Birthday Party Live at the Roundhouse is, like other Damned records, mired with some weird history.

First, this album is often known and titled as Not the Captain’s Birthday Party. The band did play a show at the Roundhouse on April 23, 1977 – a day later after (then bassist, now guitarist) Captain Sensible‘s birthday. However, this show wasn’t recorded until seven months later at the same venue. Their label at the time, Stiff Records, thought this album was the April 1977 show and thus released it as The Captain’s Birthday Party. Later, in 1986, the album was re-released by Demon Records as Not the Captain’s Birthday Party. Are we all clear?

Another interesting bit of Damned history with this album is that it’s a recording of a rare lineup of the band with the Captain on bass and perpetual lead singer Dave Vanian, but with two guitarists – Brian James and the newly acquired Robert “Lu” (short for “lunatic”) Edmunds – and a new drummer – Jon Moss (who would later go onto worldwide fame drumming for Culture Club), as the legendary original drummer, Rat Scabies, had quit the band two weeks earlier.

The album is just eight tracks, but they’re eight tracks of raw power thrown at an enthusiastic crowd. Opening with “You Take My Money,” the guitar roars and feedback are immediately apparent, and Moss is holding his own with just two weeks of practice with three guys who were already punk legends just a couple years into their careers. “Creep (You Can’t Fool Me)” gets a great response from the crowd. “Fan Club” is rough, with Edmunds and Moss still figuring out some of the band’s mechanics, but that energy just brings more growl to it.

“This one’s for Rat Scabies,” Vanian announces before they start “Problem Child.” The whole band is energized for this one, and you can tell Moss wanted to slay it. “So Messed Up” is a full-blown sprint that must have sent the crowd into a panic. “New Rose,” their first hit (and, by most accounts, the first punk single) transforms from a grungy rocker into a wild mix of feedback, crashing drums, and bass rumbles that only settle for a moment before they rip into a blistering cover of The Stooges “Feel Alright.” They end with “Born to Kill,” barely leaving you any time to process what the hell just happened.

It’s a wild ride, not unlike one of those carnival rides that takes you up high, spins you around, and then drops you at a frightening rate.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: Julian Cope – Barrowlands (2019)

Recorded live in Glasgow, Scotland in 1995, Julian Cope‘s Barrowlands is almost seventy minutes of Cope and his four-piece band (Richard “K-R” Frost – bass and vocals, Michael “Mooneye” Watts – lead guitar and vocals, Mark “Rooster” Cosby – drums, Timothy “Thighpaulsandra” Lewis – vocals, piano, Mellotron 400, and synths) performing what was a three-hour set that’s been whittled down to this album. It marked a heavy synth influence on Cope’s live shows, as he’d recently acquired a vintage 1966 Mellotron 400 and dove head-first into synth-psych.

As a result, the live show is a wild freak-out (as, I’m sure any Cope concert is) heavy on synths and keys, but not skimping on raucous guitar riffs, tight bass, or near-panicked drum beats.

The album opens with blasting versions of “East Easy Rider” and “Spacehopper” before they slow things down a bit on “Nineteen Ninety-Five” (which Cope dedicates to a rowdy man in the crowd as Cope offers to throw him some meat). It’s a song that encourages us to open our minds and explore, and the heavy piano chords behind the message have a hint of danger to them (and the journey).

“Sleeping Gas” is downright manic, with Mooneye’s guitar sounding like an industrial saw one moment and a thrash metal solo the next. “Don’t Take Roots” is wonderfully loopy, and tracks like “Leli B.” and “Passionate Friend” (a Teardrop Explodes track, no less) keep the crowd rowdy. “Torpedo” features Cope’s unique voice supported by Thighpaulsandra’s Mellotron chords. Cope’s vocals can go from crooning to punk rage and then dreamy stylings that almost become spoken word pieces. “Torpedo” is a good example of this last one. “Julian H. Cope” is a solo acoustic track that’s like a warm-up before the sonic blast of “Out of My Mind on Dope & Speed.”

“Double Vegetation” sounds even better live than I’d hoped. Cope’s band brings a strange, haunting energy to it. Afterwards, Cope tells the crowd there won’t be an encore. “It’s really hard to go offstage after three hours and then come back,” he says. , claiming there will be only two more tracks. There are actually four.

“Reward” is first, another Teardrop Explodes classic. “It’s coming to an end,” Cope says before he and his crew launch into “Hanging Out & Hung Up on the Line.” Cope’s vocals take on an angry snarl while Mooneye’s guitar buzzes like someone just threw a beehive on the stage. “World Shut Your Mouth” roars with heavy bass from Frost and Thighpaulsandra’s synths are at times bright and other times skronky. The album ends with Cope’s wild, trippy, frenetic classic “Reynard the Fox” – which must have caused a near riot when they played it at this show because it’s like ending a marathon with a kickboxing match. It’s always been one of Cope’s best songs, and getting a live version of it on this record is a treat.

The whole thing is a treat if you’re a fan of Cope’s work. I hope the Archdrude releases more live cuts. He’s a bit of a hermit nowadays, and has mostly given up the rock life, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll come out of hiding and surprise us.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: DJ Format – Psych Out (2016)

DJ Format (AKA Matt Ford) is obsessed with funky psychedelic music, and, lucky for us, was asked by BBE Records to put together a compilation of weird stuff from all over the globe for them. The result is Psych Out, and it’s everything you’d expect from its cover.

Starting with a fuzzy version of “Hava Nagila” by Singapore’s The Quests (which sounds like it would fit into a 1960s kaiju film with ease), the album is already off to a wonderfully weird start. The Tijuana Brats, hailing from the U.S., actually, bring the funk on “Karate Chop,” which needs to be in the next Black Dynamite movie. The U.K.’s Rainbow Family contribute “Travellin’ Lady,” which takes the compilation into stoner rock territory.

The CT Four Plus (hailing from West Germany, when that was still a thing) delight us with reverb-filled psychedelic guitar riffs and distant train horn harmonica sounds on “Exodus II,” making you want to desperately track down “Exodus I” (if it even exists). The Americans in 49th Blue Streak do a cover of Jimi Hendrix‘s “Foxy Lady” that might be earnest or might be a bit of a parody. I’m not sure. You won’t be either. It’s fun no matter the intent.

France’s Bana Pop Band blend psychedelia and funk with ease on “Jet Pop.” Hungary’s Koncz Zsuzsa uses electronic dance beats to back grungy, gritty guitar and lovely female vocals on “Visz a Vonat.” Not to be outdone on the grungy guitar front, Uruguay’s La Logia Sarabanda play one of the longest tracks on the compilation at just under four minutes, but it seems longer (in a good way) with its flowing guitar solos and meltdowns. Friar Truck and His Psychedelic Guitar (an American, not a Brit as you might expect with that nickname) plays a slowed down, half-baked version of “Louis, Louis” that might leave you feeling like you’re standing downwind at a Sublime cover band show.

You might think Flamengo‘s name is a riff on “Flamenco,” and thus guess they’re from Spain, but they’re from Czechoslovakia and their song, “Tyden V Elektrickem Meste” is a jangly, somewhat bluesy psych track with a cool saxophone solo. Sergio Ferraresi (hailing from Italy) takes us on a trip through the Time Tunnel on “Time of Machines,” which has some of the coolest guitar effects on the record.

Then, Poland’s Krzysztof Klenczon gets heavy on “Nie Przejdziemy Do Historii,” with his vocals booming just as loud as his squealing guitars. The Soviet Union’s (when that was also still a thing) Aleksandr Sergeyevich Zatsepin has us all doing “The Shaman’s Dance” – which contains a mix of funk band horns, guitar sounds that sound like a DJ scratching records, jazz piano, and sexy female vocal coos and moans. The compilation ends with Pro Arte (from Yugoslavia) and their trippy song, “Stari Dvorac,” which sends us out on a groovy note.

It’s a great compilation and one you should seek out if you love psychedelic music, world music, or odd music, or, heck, just music.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: The KVB – Unity (2021)

Kat Day and Nicholas Wood, otherwise known as The KVB, released their Unity album around Thanksgiving Day in 2021 as the world was undergoing separation from a lot of relatives and friends. People were missing each other, missing connections, conversations, coffee dates, and control over, well, anything in and around their lives.

Unity, with its striking cover image of giant, linked circles at the edge of a cold mountain lake, explores these themes. Even the opening instrumental track, “Sunrise Over Concrete” symbolizes hope in bleak times. “Unité” bounces and bumps with krautrock beats and called for all of us to meet at the club once the pandemic was over. I read that “Unbound” (Becoming free of the shackles of lockdown, one’s ego, or both?) harkened back to classic Slowdive and Ride tracks, and I don’t think I can put it any better than that. The dual vocals are the Slowdive part, and the soaring guitar solo is the Ride part.

Day’s breathy vocals on “Future” are an interesting new touch than I’ve heard from her before as she sings about the uncertain future ahead of her, and I suppose the rest of us. A lot of Unity was written in 2019, so the pandemic wasn’t yet here, but one can’t help thinking that The KVB had a crystal ball and saw it coming when you hear tracks like this.

“Blind” is the longest track on the album (5:35), and I’m happy for it, because Kat Day’s thick synth-bass alone could just play the entire time and I’d be delighted. The whole track is downright sexy and a bit menacing…which makes it sexier. The build-up on “Ideal Living” is outstanding. It takes its time in the first minute to get to the dance beats, which I’m sure fill the floor wherever they play. “World on Fire” was the first single from the album and it was a good choice with its bright synths, anime chase scene beats, and a guitar solo that sounds like it was played in orbit.

The synths on “Structural Index” intertwine like crystal formations and almost seem to be playing in a different song than the guitar chords. Trust me, it works. “Lumens” is, appropriately, bright and sunny. I can’t help but wonder if the closer, “Omni,” is named after the great science magazine published by Kathy Keeton and Bob Guccione. The sound of it fits in with Omni‘s science fiction-meets-paranormal aesthetic, as does all of The KVB’s work.

The album came out at the right time for a lot of people, giving them something to dance to in their living rooms or to spin while sipping tea and looking out their windows at a world that was pretty much losing its mind. It encouraged all of us to hang in there a while longer, as the reunion would be great.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: Acid Dad – Levitation Sessions (2021)

Released in the early days of the pandemic, Acid Dad‘s Levitation Sessions caught the band in a weird moment that many other bands were experiencing: They had a new album and couldn’t tour to promote it. Thankfully, the folks at the Reverberation Appreciation Society brought them into a safe studio and let them play many tracks of Take It from the Dead and some new stuff they were whipping up during lockdown – because, like every other band out there, what else were they going to do?

Staring with cool synths, interesting vocal samples, and other stuff that sounds like the opening to some early 1990s VHS instructional video, “Contact” immediately lets you know that this is going to be a weird trip (I mean, just look at the album cover.). “BBQ,” a staple food of their hometown of Austin, Texas, is a shoegazey tale of well-made plans going wrong at the slightest opportunity. “Mess with us and you’ll die hard,” they sing on “Die Hard.” The song is fairly upbeat for such heavy lyrics. It’s like a happy warning.

“Dissin'” tells the tale of pushing away a potential lover who brings far too much drama and not enough respect to the table. It has this cool, slow, psychedelic sound to it that’s just a touch sludgy. “Living with a Creature” and “Bada Bing” get a little countrified. Do I detect some CCR influence? “Marine” carries this sound along as Acid Dad tells a tale of dropping out of military school to go back to old friends who tend to overdose on party drugs. The guitars chug along like the best intentions of the song’s lead character and then expands into a groovy solo.

The groove appropriately kicks up a notch on “RC Driver,” which has a great guitar jam in the middle of it and killer bass throughout it. The groove cruises along so well that it flows into “2Ci” without a bump. They barely give you time to breathe before they get into “Don’t Get Taken,” the pace of which is like jumping on a skateboard and going straight down the middle of South Congress Street toward the river in Austin at midnight on Friday. If you know, you know.

They get heavy on “Mistress,” both in terms of the heft of the drums and bass, and the lyrics about being dragged down by giant squids and how love can be crushing. “Mr. Major” blends psychedelic jams with punk lyrics, and “Djembe” (which clocks in at over seven minutes) has the band telling us how ashamed they are of not only some of their past sins, but also everything we, as a society, are doing wrong.

It’s a cool session from a cool band who are exploring a lot of different ways to approach the psychedelic genre.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: Lumer – Disappearing Act EP (2021)

When I first saw the four Yorkshire lads known as Lumer, it was at the 2022 Levitation France music festival. They closed one of the stages one night with their fiery brand of post-punk. They were seen in the festival crowd throughout the day, but they were never just strolling or meandering. They always looked like they were on a mission. They walked with purpose and almost a daring stride that conveyed that they would happily chat with you and sign some merch and share a pint, but one should not try them under any circumstances.

Their 2021 EP Disappearing Act also conveys this feeling of four tough men on a mission. “She’s Innocent” starts the act with gunslinger swagger and Ben Jackson‘s guitar chords that sound like they’re being cooked in a cast iron skillet held by Link Wray. “First Is Too Late” has an urgency to it that is difficult to describe in any good detail. It sounds like they’re playing before the fire in the studio causes the roof to fall on them. Singer Alex Evans yells / growls / howls the vocals that express his lack of apathy for apologies from people who give them out like jellybeans.

Benjamin Morrod‘s bass leads the charge on the title track, with the vocals (and sometimes Jackson’s guitar) sounding like they’re blaring through a megaphone that has a beehive in it. The beat switches on “White Czar” (thanks to Will Evans‘ agile drumming) can leave you shaken if you’re not ready. Alex Evans’ vocal delivery on “By Her Teeth” remind me a lot of Jon King‘s on some of Gang of Four‘s tracks. The song seems to be about one man’s obsession with a woman, or perhaps several of them, that might lead to his doom.

“The Sheets” might be a “walk of shame” song after a passionate night, or one of loneliness and regret. Either way, the whole band cooks on it. Morrod’s groove is subtle, yet relentless. Jackson’s guitar sounds like a jet roar, and Will Evans’ cymbal work on the track is impressive. The EP ends with “Another Day at the Zoo,” which has Alex Evans comparing the endless parade of ads, douchebags, politicians, and old, rich dudes to people wandering through zoos and laughing at the animals (us) they’ve put in physical and metaphorical cages. It’s a raucous, rabid track that threatens to wreck everything around it.

Like I mentioned, Lumer are on a mission. They want us to wake up before we disappear into that zoo. This EP throws the cage doors open for you.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: Failure – Magnified (2020 remix and remaster)

Failure‘s second album, Magnified, had the band refining their Californian shoegaze sound, with Ken Andrews and Greg Edwards doing all of the playing, recording, and mixing themselves. The sound was bigger, bolder, and starting their frog leap toward outer space, but Andrews and Taylor knew they were taking on a big more than even they could chew – especially with the percussion. They put out an ad seeking a drummer, and it was eventually answered by Kellii Scott, who heard Magnified‘s first three tracks and knew he had to get on board the Failure train. As Scott has told in interviews, he missed the original audition time and was nearly fired before Andrews and Edwards heard him play one beat, but thankfully they gave him another chance and were sold within moments thanks to the raw power he creates behind a drum kit. He later joined the band full-time during their tour with Tool and has been with them ever since.

“Let It Drip” is the first of the tracks Scott heard that made him think, “Damn, I need to be in this band,” and it’s not surprising. Andrews’ guitar riffs on it are downright urgent, Edwards’ bass sounds like a grumpy grizzly, and the drums both of them put on it take off like a rocket – a theme that would continue through Failure’s work ever since. “Moth” was the second track Scott heard, and it’s one of Failure’s biggest hits. The power of it is unstoppable, and Scott probably pushed in all of his poker chips as soon as he heard the first verse.

As powerful as “Moth” is, “Frogs,” somehow, hits even harder. Edwards’ bass swings like a battle axe, and Scott was floored by this point of hearing them. The drum tracks on it hit so hard they seem to be shattering everything in sight. Andrews sings a tale of someone spinning into, and then embracing, madness (“Frogs are bouncing off my brain stem. So excited to be sane. Didn’t it seem kind of silly, the way the doctors carried on? So, now that I’ve become a monster to them, I’ll have to keep their fear turned on all night long.”).”

“Bernie” is a song about a woman they knew back in the 1990s who had “the way to feel good times” and lived “on the way to the park.” It’s no secret that Failure were battling various addictions around this time, so this song about a woman they knew who could help them out at any time of day (“We don’t have to wait until dark.”) is both poignant and epic. I also can’t help if it’s sort of a companion piece to “Leo” – a song on Fantastic Planet about someone in drug-induced paranoia.

As if the album didn’t rock enough, they stomp the gas pedal on the title track – a song about how we’re all just ants burning under the sun as we run through the race of life. It makes a sudden stop and then wallops you with acoustic guitar chords and weird, yet soothing reversed synths. It’s sort of an unnamed, hidden “Segue” – a short instrumental track that Failure would feature on future albums, starting with Fantastic Planet.

The beats on “Wonderful Life” (a song about struggling against the tempting spiral down into depression and exhaustion) sound simple at first, but you soon realize are deceptively deft. They stop and start with suddenness that can be jolting to the uninitiated. Those deft beats continue on “Undone” – the album’s first single – and uses looping to cool effects that continue their evolution into space rock. These beats are even more impressive when you consider Edwards recorded them one piece at a time and later edited them together.

“Wet Gravity,” a tale about a woman on the edge of madness (“Brain squeals, the same time as last time.”) who puts river stones in her pockets to give herself a physical sense of being grounded (the “wet gravity” of the title). The band unleashes a damn lightning storm on it. The guitar solo blazes, the drum hits boom, and the bass licks roar. It’s hard to determine who’s playing lead on it at any time…and then, like “Magnified,” it transforms into an instrumental mind-melt.

“Empty Friend” has Andrews singing about a “friend” who subtly kept him from achieving some of his goals (“Some empty friend who talked me into sleep…and threw my wings into the blazing sun.”), and “Small Crimes” is a sizzling, brooding track about a man who’s considering burning his world down to destroy his fears and the cacophony of everyone’s complaints. Edwards’ bass on it is the low growl in the protagonist’s brain.

As you might’ve guessed by now, depression, madness, existential crises, the hidden meanings of dreams, the complexity of relationships, and the wonder of what lies beyond us and within us are common themes in Failure’s work, and Magnified is a magnifying glass on those themes in them and the rest of us.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: Viagra Boys – Consistency of Energy (2016)

Viagra Boys‘ debut EP, Consistency of Energy, is a good blueprint of how you should come out of the gate with your new band: Bring all of the energy, all of the time.

The Swedish post / art-punk band love poking fun at “bro culture,” toxic masculinity, consumerism, fashion, perceptions of what is or isn’t beautiful, rich snobs, drug culture, pop culture, and more. Their name alone is a poke in the eye to dudes who willingly trade raging hard-ons now for chronic heart and blood pressure issues later.

The EP’s opening track, “Research Chemcials,” is a home run in their first at-bat. The heavy bass tone from Henrik Höckert builds and builds until the track breaks open like a freight train without breaks coming down a hill toward a bus of school kids stalled at a railroad crossing. In it, lead singer Sebastian Murphy both rails against and praises the drugs he’s taking (“Research chemicals got me bleeding from my ears. Research chemicals…They make ’em better every year.”). There are times in the track when you can’t tell if Oskar Carls‘ saxophone is broken or in proper working order, which means he’s either a master player or a madman (not unlike Captain Beefheart on saxophone), which means it’s great.

On “I Don’t Remember That,” Murphy tells a tale of him being so drunk and / or high, that he can’t remember, or refuses to admit, all the crazy stuff he’s done the last couple nights – despite multiple witnesses telling him he “peed on the carpet” and “broke your mother’s vase.” Meanwhile, Benjamin Vallé‘s guitar rips through the track like a power washer hose left unattended on full blast.

The perils of too much drug use continue on “Can’t Get It Up,” in which Murphy wants to have some sexy time with his lady friend, but is too burnt-out on snorted research chemicals to give it the ole college try. Tor Sjödén‘s drum beats are the sound of Murphy’s heart pounding from sexual excitement and performance anxiety (“I didn’t mean to ruin your night, girl. I truly do apologize, but since we’re lyin’ here doin’ nothin’, I might as well do another line.”).

The final track, “Liquids,” is about Murphy’s desire to have his lover give him a golden shower (as he admitted on stage when I saw them play it live in February 2023, “That’s a song about gettin’ peed on.”). Murphy is a slave to his desires and Höckert‘s thumping bass is both the throbbing in Murphy’s brain (“She makes me sick, my brain hurt. She’s got my weakness under her skirt.”) and Martin Ehrencron‘s subtle synths are the power of the woman he wants to dominate him (“She’s got me shaking down to my gizzard. She speaks just like some kind of lizard. She’s dressed in robes like some weird wizard. I fantasize until I get blisters. She ain’t no human, I ain’t no ape. I want her liquids all on my face.”).

It’s just four tracks, but they’re four tracks of raw power, and it was a great way for them to launch their assault on an unsuspecting world.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: The Last Four Digits – Don’t Move (2016)

You often hear of a lot of music collections being described as “essential.” The term gets used to the point of near-meaninglessness, but in the case of Don’t Move, the collection of three years’ worth of material from both incarnations of Indiana synth and new wave legends The Last Four Digits, it’s true. In another universe, The Last Four (4, or 5) Digits are as well known as The B-52s or The Ramones, but in this reality, their limited output only makes their legend better.

The first eight tracks of this compilation are songs from the first version of the band, The Last Four (4) Digits with Steve Grigdesby (rhythm guitar and vocals), John Koss drums and vocals), Mike Sheets (bass and vocals), and Richard Worth (lead guitar and vocals) – with synthesizers and mixing with Dave “A.Xax” Fulton. They’re all jittery, crunchy punk cuts that remind you of those scary kids you’d see hanging out of the mall in the early 1980s (I was one of them, by the way.). Heck, “Leave Me Alone” is practically a theme song for Generation X. The weird angles of Worth’s guitar and vocals on “Fast Friends” reminds you of Joy Division tracks.

Their version of Bo Diddley‘s / Captain Beefheart‘s “Diddy Wah Diddy” swaps out most of the raunchy guitars for weird synths…and it still works. “Another Sex Crime” has plenty of swagger, and “City Streets” is grungy synth-punk that would make early Devo proud. You’ll want “(I Want to Be an) Undertaker” on all of your Halloween playlists after hearing it, and you might as well add “Coughing Up Blood” while to your “birthday songs” playlists while you’re at it. “(I Sold My Soul to) Fotomat” is perhaps the beginning of what would become one of the main themes of the second version of the band.

The Last Four (5) Digits had Sheets switch from bass to guitar, kept Joss on drums, and brought Fulton out from behind the mixing board, and added Brad “Mr. Science” Garton on keyboards and vocals and Julie Huffaker on bass and vocals. As the liner notes of Don’t Move will tell you, they embraced “Abstract Commercialism” and began including TV themes, commercial jingles, and advertising concepts in their songs and live shows. “Don’t Move” takes on a darker tone that some of their other tracks, which I love.

“Liquids” is a great example of their love of commercial culture, sampling early 1980s ads and singing about drinking colored liquids, eating colored foodstuffs, and taking lots of drugs. “Act Like Nothing’s Wrong” is a fun song about trying to figure out what’s wrong with a lover while also trying not to piss off that same lover while doing it. “Babaloo No More” is a tale of Lucy Ricardo killing Ricky after he has an affair and Fred and Ethel threatening to boot her out of their apartment if she can’t make the rent. It’s funny, weird, and gives a hard kick in the junk to re-run TV. Their cover of “Mack the Knife” is equally strange, and “I Have Rental Car” is the sound of entitled people yelling about crap that doesn’t really matter.

The last eleven tracks on Don’t Move are a recording of their performance at CBGB‘s on Valentine’s Day 1982. They open with the simple announcement of “Hi. We’re The Last Four Digits,” and then go straight in to “Liquids.” Huffaker’s bass is so heavy on the live version of “Leave Me Alone” that it almost levels the room. They turn the grisly “Coughing Up Blood” into a pogo-inducing rocker, but change the lyric “Coughing up blood on your birthday!” to “Coughing up blood on your Valentine!” in honor of that night.

They cover of “Return to Sender” and then throw down a thudding version of “Act Like Nothing’s Wrong,” followed by a nearly panicked version of “Babaloo No More.” Up next come covers of “Mack the Knife” and the theme to the wild sci-fi film The Green Slime. The live version of “I Have Rental Car” is even more frenetic and unhinged than the studio version.

It’s a crucial collection if you’re into vintage no wave / new wave stuff, and the addition of the live tracks is a boon for collectors and enthusiasts. Don’t skip it if you can find it. I scored it for 99 cents at Reckless Records in Chicago earlier this year – a massive steal.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: Esquivel – Music from a Sparkling Planet (1995)

Music from a Sparkling Planet is a wonderfully titled compilation of Esquivel‘s space-age bachelor pad music consisting of Esquivel’s arrangements of other contemporaries’ music and his own compositions.

“Cachita” instantly plunges you into the groovy swimming pool of his music with his trademark blend of “latin-esque” sounds, beats, and grooves. “Cherokee” is idyllic to the point of mild hypnosis. “Third Man Theme” is more upbeat than anything you’d see in the Orson Welles movie. It belongs in a goofy European sex comedy from the 1960s about a guy who’s always bumped from hooking up with a lady because he’s the third wheel.

The electric piano on “La Bikina” is delightful. “La Paloma” and “Cachito” (the brother to “Cachita”) keep you in the lounging mood. The mellow accordion on “Cachito” is a neat touch. On “Granada,” he throws in those vocal “Zu zu zu” sounds that only he could make work in a tune, and combines them with Ennio Morricone-like trumpet.

“Question Mark (What Can You Do)” is one of his fully original compositions and arrangements, and it’s bold and bouncy and all-around fun (like the entire collection). “My Blue Heaven” is a quick, jumpy number that hops straight into his excellent version of “All of Me,” which practically throws you into a time machine and dumps you on the Las Vegas Strip circa 1965.

“Poinciana” is great example of Esquivel’s work. It has all the elements you want: Bold brass sections, jazzy piano, sultry vocal sounds, exotic percussion, and slightly psychedelic guitar work. “Flower Girl of Bordeaux” is perfect for rushing through the streets of a foreign land with someone beautiful in a quest of sexy adventure. “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” sends us out on a “cha-cha-cha.”

You can’t go wrong with stuff like this. It puts you in a better mood and transports you to faraway places that might be on Earth or in outer space.

Keep your mind open.

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