I was delighted to get an e-mail from Guillame (guitar) and Romauld (drums) of Birds of Nazca from Nantes, France wondering if I might like to hear their new stoner / doom / heavy psych EP Héliote. Um…Yeah!
After a brief intro, we’re smacked in the face with the rolling, rumbling, rocking “Inti Raymi” – which has you wondering how just two people can put out so much heavy sound. “Spheniscus” calms the guitars a bit, but it’s a bit of a feint as the track builds to a pulse-quickening space rock jam about two minutes into it. Soon, it’s like flying a spacecraft through the rings of Saturn like you’ve been doing it for years. The EP ends with “Gucumatz,” spanning over nine minutes and taking you beyond Saturn with its expansive guitar chords and low gravity drums.
This is all in just three songs. It makes you wonder what kind of cosmic power they could unleash in a full album. Let’s hope they do soon.
Keep your mind open.
[Fly over to the subscription box while you’re here.]
Recorded, no joke, in caves, gothic crypts, and shopping malls and next to construction sites and yoga classes, Mandy, Indiana‘s first full-length album, I’ve Seen a Way, expands on their sexy, creepy, synthy sound with a mix of heavier dance beats and stranger field recordings.
“Love Theme (4K VHS)” opens the album with synthwave bliss as you drive Charlie Sheen’s car from The Wraith down a street lit by solar-powered batteries embedded in the ground. It flows into “Drag [Crashed]” and turns the romantic lounge of the previous track into a slightly frightening industrial club floor-filler with Valentine Caulfield singing / shouting about toxic masculinity and the male gaze in French as her bandmates pound you into the ground. “Pinking Shears” is full of thick synth bass from Simon Catling and hip-hop drumming from Alex MacDougall while Caulfield’s vocals move around the room like a panther proclaiming, “This shitty world has exhausted me.” and verbally slapping us awake with lyrics like “…we elect bankers and big bourgeois and rentiers and we are surprised to get fucked.”
Her vocals on “Injury Detail” are only slightly subdued, which provide an interesting balance with the snappy drums and hissing, throbbing synths. “The Driving Rain (18)” layers the synths atop Caulfield’s vocals to make them almost robotic. On “2 Stripe,” she tells the tale of peasants serving a king, a queen, and their daughters while they sleep in cold cellars and nearly starve…until they realize they far outnumber the royals and take the castle and land by force. It’s a cautionary tale for the 1%, who are treacherously close to losing all of it all of the time.
Scott Fair‘s guitar wails and squeals through “Iron Maiden,” a mostly instrumental track with Caulfield sometimes crying out like she’s stuck in the titular device. “It’s not a revolt, it’s a revolution,” Caulfield sings on “Peach Fuzz.” “They take us for idiots,” she proclaims as the track builds into a synth war march.
“Crystal Aura Redux” is aptly named because it sounds like you’re walking through a hall of mirrors with crystals hanging from the ceiling that are light by a disco ball. The album ends with “Sensitivity Training” – a warning for all of us. The instrumentation brings alarm klaxons, protest chants, and marching beats to mind as Caulfield asks, “Do you hear the sound of the the boots clattering on the pavement? They’re coming for us.” She’s warning us of the rise of fascism, or perhaps to flip the script and make it a warning for those same fascists who will one day realize they’re vastly outnumbered.
I’ve Seen a Way (or i’ve seen a way, as it’s often written) is a stunning debut LP, one of the best of the year. It’s a dance record, a protest album, and a synthwave stunner all in one. Their creativity seems to have no bounds, as does their anger and passion for calls to action. Go visit them.
While you were busy doom scrolling, Lowell, Massachusetts rapper / DJ / MC / radio show host / actor / mack / all-around cool dude D-Tension taught himself how to play a guitar and made a rock record – Tales from the Pub. It’s an album entirely played and sung by him and made up of songs based on his life both as a teenager and as a grown man dealing with everything from existential ennui to calling out a possible murderer.
“No Name Song” is instantly relatable to everyone, as it’s about not being able to remember someone’s name within thirty seconds of meeting them. D’s guitar work is loud, sizzling, and echoes his frustration as he tries to remember the name of a hot girl. “Charlie” is the song about the aforementioned suspected murderer – a rich guy who seems above the law while women associated with him have been found in a local river. D, for one, isn’t standing for it any longer (“And when you see Charlie, tell him that I’m on my way. And when you see Charlie, tell him that I know where he lives.”).
D has mentioned in interviews how fellow east-coasters The Smithereens were an inspiration for some of the tracks on the album, and I can hear some of Pat DiNizio‘s vocal influence on “Alone.” “MAGAHAT” is a fun punk track about D discovering a girl he likes is a Trump supporter. Getting back to The Smithereens, Jim Babjak‘s guitar influence comes out on “Other Side of the Road” and in one of D’s best solos on the record.
“Ghost Me” covers one of D’s favorite songwriting subjects – girls who did him wrong. In this track, he professes that he still cares for a gal who ditched him and is willing to meet her again even after she’s been gone for ten years. His guitar work gets psychedelic on “Woodrose,” much to my delight. Crank that reverb!
“Tell me, how we gonna get that magic back?” D asks on “I Love You Anyway,” in which he ponders how to reignite the spark in his relationship but is willing to stick it out through the tough times. “(They Were) In Love” brings in some doo-wop for good measure for a funny song about how weird love is in modern times…yet it’s really as weird as it’s always been.
The White Stripes are another influence D-Tension has mentioned for Tales from the Pub, and that can be heard on “I Give In” with its jangly guitar riffs and simple, raw drum beats. The closer, “The Airport Song,” is one D wrote when we was fifteen-years-old. It’s a fun track about how the airport is a great place to meet girls from all over the world and all different sizes, shapes, races, and religions. It’s easy to picture a teenaged D-Tension standing wide-eyed in Boston airport as gorgeous women keep passing him.
It’s a fun look into D-Tension’s brain, and you can tell he had fun making this record. I’m sure he has more tales to tell, and I can’t wait to hear them.
I had been trying to see The Beths for a couple years, but either I was always working when they were playing or their tour dates were nowhere near where I live, but lo and behold, they scheduled a date in Kalamazoo, Michigan, a mere one-and-half-hour drive from my house, at Bell’s Eccentric Café.
It turned out not only to be my first time seeing The Beths, but also the first show I saw at Bell’s beer garden stage. I’d been to multiple shows at Bell’s, but had never been in the garden and had no idea it was so spacious. I also didn’t realize that the town’s Metro train tracks ran behind the stage area, and neither did the band and a lot of other people, until two trains went past during The Beths’ set.
Not only was the size of the garden a delightful surprise, but so was the age range of the crowd. It was an all-ages show, and I saw people ranging from a boy who was barely thirteen to a man in his seventies there. A lot of people were sporting Beths t-shirts from previous tours, and the crowd clearly loved them and were happy they’d come all the way from New Zealand.
First up, however were Disq from Madison, Wisconsin. They played an energetic mix of noise rock, post punk, and no-wave and were having a great time. I didn’t get to see their whole set, thanks to road construction delaying me a bit, but what I saw and heard was loud and frantic.
Disq
The Beths came out in the dark, complete with a giant inflatable fish, and opened with the title track of their debut album Future Me Hates Me, and the crowd was instantly happy. The Beths are a fun band. Their love of playing, and their camaraderie, is immediately apparent, and that energy races through the audience.
They played a fun set, including fun hits like “Whatever” and “Dying to Believe,” secretly sad songs like “Expert in a Dying Field” and “Best Left,” and lovely love songs like “Your Side” and “When You Know You Know.”
“Whatever, yeah, whatever.”
“We love you!” was a common shout from the crowd, and The Beths returned the love for the whole set, and did a lot of shredding. It’s easy to focus on Elizabeth Stokes‘ lyrics and miss how well the whole band plays. They could easily cut a shoegaze album if they wanted – and I hope they do.
It was a fun night with nice late summer weather and good vibes all around thanks to The Beths bringing the love.
The New Yorker once dubbed Norwegian DJ and producer Lindstrøm as “the king of space disco.” That’s as good a description for him as any I could dream up, and it’s epitomized in his latest record, Everyone Else Is a Stranger, which is full of neat rhythms, pulsing synths, and a vibration to it that seems to defy gravity.
The first few seconds of “Syreen” alone are designed to fill dance floors with the synthwave beats and inspiring electric piano notes. “Nightswim” is perfect for just such an activity at your lake house or a Las Vegas rooftop pool. It instantly makes you feel cool and sexy, but not so much that you turn into a “trying too hard to be cool” d-bag. He finds that sweet spot of “Let’s have fun and be sexy and cool with each other. No bad vibes here, just love.” The whole record is like that, really.
I can’t help but think Lindstrøm was influenced by Giorgio Moroder (and who isn’t, really?) when I hear the opening synths of “The Rind” – a neat synthwave track that prepares you for dancing, sparring, or shagging with an android (possibly all three). The ending title track is like a ten-minute cool-down meditation after the dance fest that’s been happening for the previous three songs. Lindstrøm has always excelled at evoking dreamy imagery in his music, and the title track is a fine example of that craftsmanship.
I also like the title of Everyone Else Is a Stranger. Except whom? Well, you, of course. You know who you are. You’re whomever is touched and moved by this record in anyway. He made it for you. Don’t refuse the gift.
Hailing from Austin, Texas and playing sold-out shows before they even released any music, Club Coma (Geoff Earle – synth, bass, and vocals, Scott Martin – guitar and vocals, and Aaron Perez – drums) play a neat mix of experimental rock, dance rock, and shoegaze on their debut, self-titled album.
Opener “Give Me a Chance” sounds like something Thundercat might cook up, and I’m sure he’ll be jealous that he didn’t create something so funky when he hears it. “The Mirror” has a bit of a dance-punk sound to it, and “New Cruelty” even adds goth-synth touches. “I’m frightened of my TV screen. I’m scared of the things it’ll do to me. I’m scared of the phone in my pocket. I keep checking, and I don’t know how to stop it,” Martin sings on “TV Screen.” Seriously, dude, we’re all with you on this (and the addictive beats of the song only help the imagery).
“I went through that bad shit, and now I’m immune,” they sing on “Immune,” an empowering track that has Perez knocking out a steady beat perfect for your bicycling playlist, Earle getting his groovy synth groove groovin’, and Martin reminding us that we’ve come through a lot in the past few years, and we can, and should, think of ourselves as bad asses from this day forward.
Their cover of The James Gang‘s “Collage” is sharp. They turn it into a synthwave stunner. “It hit me hard like a lightning bolt,” they sing at the start of “Anesthesia,” a song that might be about addiction, or it might be about, finally, getting a rest after all the stuff mentioned in “Immune.” The looping string section in it takes the track up a few notches. It’s a wild touch. “Keep It Together” gets dreamy for the final song, making you feel like the gentleman on the cover, an image of a modern Icarus, falling into the arms of people who seem happy to see him. You’re falling, or perhaps floating, into a calmer state in that club where being in a coma for a little while might do you good.
Studio One Space-Age Dub Special is a fun collection of rare dub cuts from the legendary Studio One studio released between 1972 and 1981. Credited to “The Dub Specialist,” but chopped up and remixed by producer Clement “Sir Coxsone” Dodd and engineer Sylvan Morris, the rare cuts take on new life.
“Red Neck” is heavy on the horns and rouses you from a bit of a hangover from the afterparty you attended earlier that morning. “Marcus Dub” calms things down with its simple high-hat beats as you scrounge around some juice and toast and feed your pets. The thumping, yet subtle bass on “Accra” is the sound of your brain finally waking up and planning out your day, thankfully with a sense of optimism.
“A Lie Gal a Tell” recycles the horns and beats from “Red Neck” and includes vocals from DJ Lone Ranger and plenty of weird keyboard cuts to inspire you to dress sharp for the day (“This is a serious, serious matter,” Lone Ranger says with a grin.). There’s a bounce in your walk with “Squash Dub” in your earbuds. ‘Pick Up the Version” keeps you smiling as you head for the train station and the frantic crowds there. You’re in no hurry. Things will happen when they happen. The groovy, mellow beat of “Saucy Perila” will make the woman behind the counter handing you your pain au chocolat wonder if you’re high, happy, or horny.
“Roaring Reggae” doesn’t roar at all. It’s more like a lion stretching out its limbs to lounge in the sun. The background vocal sounds on “Still Water Version” give it a dreamy quality, and the reverb only increases that sense. “My Man Part 2” and “Disco Dub” are fun, little jaunts across the dance floor. “Tricky” isn’t a salute to the DJ of the same name, but I’m sure he’d love it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already sampled it in at least a couple tracks by now. The subdued bass in it is perfect for trip-hop, and Tricky could easily sing or rap over all of “Illiteracy Version.”
The title of “Wailing Sounds” is probably a reference to The Wailers, and not the sound of the track – which is peppy ska beats and mellow ska horns mixed with slightly up-tempo dub bass. “Juk’s, Inc.” could be the opening theme to the credits of a 1976 Jamaican crime film. “Barb Wire Version” has female vocals about finding a new man, but the vocals never tell the whole story. They’re chopped, looped, and reverbed into a weird puzzle. Perhaps it’s related to “Queen of the Rub?” I’m not sure. I mean, with that title… The collection ends with “I a See I,” which might be the trippiest song on the record. The vocals are layered with extra reverb, the hand percussion sounds like it was recorded in the back of a cave, and the organ notes almost sound random. It’s delightfully strange.
The entire collection is. Like any good dub record, it’s mysterious, funky, and just plain weird all at once.
Keep your mind open.
[Float over to the subscription box while you’re here.]
Depending on whom you ask, the Five of Cups tarot card can symbolize disappointment, regret, or being stuck in a past you won’t leave. If the card is presented upside-down, it can mean you’ve moved on from such things, or are about to do so.
Austin, Texas psych-rockers Holy Wave seemed to have a mixture of both feelings when they made their newest album, Five of Cups. They’ve openly discussed how, with tours being canceled and venues closing all over the world, that a career in music was pretty much a bust. The world was full of pessimism and anger. Thankfully, instead of succumbing to all of it, they channeled the energy into this record.
The weird synths that boldly open title track set us off on an introspective journey as Ryan Fuson sings about fat cats getting fatter while the rest of us spend most of our time in a metaphorical hamster wheel to keep those cats fat. For such despairing lyrics, the song is rather lovely. “Bog Song” is just as lovely, with bright guitars from Fuson and Kyle Hager throughout it. I’m not sure if Fuson’s guitar or Julian Ruiz‘s drums are trippier on “Chaparral,” but Hager’s electric piano and synths add a nice slice of 1970s psych to the already smoky track. In it, the band make references to their original home town of El Paso, Texas and both the good and not-so-good things they left there when they moved to Austin to pursue that music career that would be derailed (along with everyone else’s) in 2019.
The find the best way to ride out the bad energy of the last couple years on “Path of Least Resistance.” Be like water, my friend. I mean, the guitars on this track certainly flow and (holy) wave like those at a Texas beachfront. They keep walking their groovy Zen path (with Joseph Cook‘s bass leading the way) on “Nothing Is Real.” The past to which you’re clinging? It’s not real. It never was. The future about which you’re stressing? That’s not real either. It never will be. The dreamy instrumentation and vocals encourage you to be here now. The present is the only real thing.
We all felt some sense of “Hypervigilance” at some point in the last four years, and many still feel it. “I’m not like you, ’cause they can’t find me,” Fuson sings, wanting to get away from everyone and everything, but knowing in his heart that such a path can lead to madness. He decides to find solace in truth (“I have a secret power. I can see through your shit.”) and, again, just be here now with that truth. The sound of “The Darkest Timeline” seems to indicate it was recorded in an empty pool, an abandoned theatre, a ghost town, or a shopping mall with only five stores left in it. In other words, it sounds amazing (and gets added flair from Mexican psych-duo Lorelle Meets the Obsolete helping out on the track).
By the time we get to “Nothing in the Dark,” Holy Wave are cranking the fuzz and vocal distortions as if to obliterate their fears and ours of what’s lurking outside our homes. The album ends with “Happier,” and the band, and us, coming out of that scary darkness into bright light, turning that Five of Cups card upside-down and deciding to move on from all of it.
If you’re going through hell, keep going. Don’t stop and hang out there. That’s the message of Five of Cups. You can get through it. You can emerge happier. I’m glad they did.
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 SergeyevichZatsepin 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.
The Bandcamp page for Charm School‘s debut EP, Finite Jest, says the record “…is dedicated to complicated, heart-crushingly-too-real jokes everywhere.” I’m not certain if the jokes mentioned are actual spoken word jokes, or a reference to people that lead singer and songwriter Andrew Sellers thinks of as jokes. Either way, it’s a fairly accurate way to describe the EP.
It’s a grungy, sweaty post-punk record. “Non Fucking Stop” references people who don’t stop not stopping (“You’re owned by your phone.” / “Hair cut like you wanna be a big rock star, posting your image everywhere here and far.”). The guitar solo screams rage and frustration. “Simulacra” is a similar theme. The world itself references copies of things that never existed in the first place. “Speculate on speculation,” Sellers sings while attitude-filled bass thumps roll along behind him.
“Year of the Scorpion” builds and builds in volume, fuzz, and energy over its course with Sellers warning people that “it won’t get any better” and that “A scorpion’s going to do what a scorpion does.”, letting us know that first impressions of people are often correct and trying to force them to change always results in you being stung.
“Face Spiter” calms down a bit, with the guitars playing with shoegaze riffs here and there. The song seems to be about how easy it is to plunge into self-destruction in order to be noticed (“Too calculated, an ego inflated.”). The ending title track begins with marching song-like snare hits and then adds boot-stomping guitar chords to the mix. Seller’s vocals are almost spoken word mantras. “What you say is not what you say,” he says / sings, reminding someone of their duplicity while the guitars buzz like bees, or perhaps hornets. Again, more things that can sting you.
The whole EP stings at people who put on false fronts in order to appear happier than they are or superior to others when they’re secretly miserable. It’s a joke that will have a harsh, finite end for them, either in death or, in some ways worse, being revealed for who they are. They’re doing all they can to make the finite jest infinite, not realizing that ending the charade would reveal a truth so simple that they’d be laughing at the ridiculousness of the illusion they created.
