Brazilian multi-instrumentalist Tuto Hallgrimis known in his home country for his jazz work and traditional Brazilian music, but he’s always had a love of thrash metal. His new record, Do It Yourself, is a return to this love and is full of instrumental wildfires.
“Rebellion Thrash” lets you know right away that this isn’t a jazz or bossa nova record. It’s like a lit fuse racing toward a can of gasoline. “Metal Influences” brings in some Iron Maiden touches, and Hallgrim has expressed his love of the band, as well as Metallica, Black Sabbath, and other metal giants. “Nightmares” reminds me of some of Primus‘ heavier cuts and has some of Hallgrim’s best shredding on the record. It makes you stop in your tracks.
“Living in the 80’s” is a pretty good title for an instrumental cut that sounds like it could fit on just about any 1980’s hair metal record. “Devastation Storm” is another good title, because the track is like a hailstorm smashing everything in its path. “A Traveler’s Journey” starts with some funky bass (also played by Hallgrim, who also did all the drum programming) and then rolls into a bit of a stoner metal jam. “Drakkar” is a quick hair metal riff that’s a warm-up for “Strong Emotions” – a raging fire with more jaw-dropping guitar work from Hallgrim.
“Confusion Worse Confounded” is prog-rock jamming at its best. The album ends with “Vulture” – a wild, frenetic jam that swoops down on you like the titular creature and carries you off to a rocky, thunderstruck crag.
Do It Yourself is a wild record. You’d do yourself a favor if you’re a metal fan by hearing it.
Ty Segall‘s Freedom’s Goblin was a wild, freewheeling record mixing all sorts of influences ranging from angry punk to disco funk. His newest record, First Taste, is tighter, but no less chaotic.
The album opens with a weird hiss on “Taste,” a song about how our choices are often bad ones (“Our salivating makes it all taste worse.”), as Segall and his bandmate, Charles Moothart, lay down double drumming amid heavy synths. The synths get all wiggly on “Whatever” – a song that’s about a D/s relationship on its surface but I suspect is actually about being willing to do anything to salvage a relationship.
Strange percussion that sounds like shaken strings of seashells starts “Ice Plant,” an odd cut about the sun warming up a cold day in California. More cool double drumming opens “The Fall,” a wild track that I’m sure gets the mosh pit jumping whenever Mr. Segall plays it live. Segall has written songs about his dog before, so “I Worship the Dog” is another good entry to this batch of his songs. It has a cool buzz to it that might be from a kazoo patched through a distortion pedal for all I know.
Segall plays a bouzouki (Yes, you read that right.) on “The Arms” – a cool track that blends psychedelia with Eastern sounds. More of that sweet Segall-Moothart double drumming comes back for the quick instrumental “When I Met My Parents (Part 1).”
Segall keeps rocking that bouzouki on “I Sing Them” – a song about how his music helps him through self-expression, thus bringing him freedom. His lyrics of “All I got is what I’d say. So I don’t speak or talk or pray. I sing them. I sing my song so I am free. I sing my song and sound like me.” pretty much sum up how every artist feels about their work. Then, just to baffle you, Segall gives us the mostly instrumental (The sole lyrics are “Close your eyes. Everything is just dreaming.”) synth-wave jam “When I Met My Parents (Part 3).” Where’s Part 2? I don’t know.
“Radio” is another trippy track about the dissolution of the body and the embrace of a new light, although Segall’s lyrics of “I just want to sit and watch the new radio, watching people die all night long on the radio.” make me think it’s a cautionary tale of becoming enslaved to our phones. “Self Esteem” starts funky, devolves into avant-garde jazz madness, and then goes back into percussion-heavy funk. The album ends with the mandolin-drive “Lone Cowboys.” It’s almost like a sprint (towards death?) at the end of a race with its fast beats and lyrics like “…when you reach it, make sure it’s whole. When you feel it, you’re all alone.”
First Taste would be a great name for a debut album, but Ty Segall is well beyond his debut record. He’s prolific, to say the least. This album could be a first taste of other musical experimentation to come from him, and that’s a good thing.
Keep your mind open.
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When Chromaticsannounced a new album was due this year or perhaps early next year, everyone assumed it would be the long-awaited and remade (after being famously destroyed by frontman Johnny Jewel) Dear Tommy. What came instead is the lovely, mysterious, giallo film-inspired Closer to Grey.
The album opens with a stunning rendition of Simon & Garfunkel‘s The Sound of Silence.” Ageless lead singer Ruth Radelet nearly whispers the lyrics and the sparse instrumentation along with her beautiful voice creates a haunting atmosphere that immediately changes the energy around you. Jewel’s keyboards and synth beats on “You’re No Good” bring in some house music touches to lovely effects as Radelet sings, “I know you’re no good, no, but I can’t stay away from you.” I’m sure this was remixed by thousands of DJ’s not long after the album was released.
The title track brings in electro shine and Nat Walker‘s bright guitar licks. The synths on “Twist the Knife” are sharp and stabbing, as benefits the title, and then the heavy synth bass kicks in as Radelet sings, “You can teach me to be cruel, like the way they tortured you. It’s all right.” “Light as a Feather” has a neat dusty, warped record sound to it as Radelet sings about hearing a voice that “sings whispers from the dead.”
“I can rest again, now that the sky is gray. It hasn’t rained here since May,” Radelet sings at the beginning of “Move a Mountain” – a song about loneliness, the kind of which Chromatics do so well. “Touch Red” is another haunting song about awakening the senses (“The world needs color.”). Walker’s guitar work on the instrumental “Through the Looking Glass” reminds me of Love and Rockets tracks.
“Whispers in the Hall” brings us back into giallo territory, with its slasher horror synths and lyrics centered around a woman in peril finding the will to fight (“Little girl the world just wants to trick you. Can’t you see the look in their eyes? Don’t you know the pain will make you stronger? You don’t have to buy into their lies.”). “On the Wall” is the longest song on the album, clocking in at about eight-and-a-half minutes. It has a cool rock vibe throughout it, bringing to mind 1960’s psychedelia and krautrock synth beats.
“Love Theme from Closer to Gray” is the theme to the giallo thriller Johnny Jewel has probably written and is on his way to producing by now. If not, I wish he would because the song drips with foggy atmosphere, hidden menace, and breathy, hot sex. The closer, “Wishing Well,” is not a cover of Terence Trent D’Arby‘s hit (although that would be amazing to hear from Chromatics), but rather a song about unfulfilled desires (“It’s a quiet night in a nowhere town, where the arcade still glows when no one’s around.”) and longing for something beyond our borders – physical and metaphysical. A ticking clock in the middle of it tells us that time is short. We’d better get to work fulfilling our dreams.
Closer to Gray is a welcome addition to not only Chromatics’ catalogue, but also to 2019. It wasn’t a massive surprise when they released it (They were on tour, after all.), but it was a much-needed jolt after a year of anger and self-isolation. It reminds us to embrace our dreams, and each other.
And by the way, Closer to Gray is available for download through the band’s label’s site (Italians Do It Better) for one dollar.
I was talking with a friend of mine over the summer and he asked me if I’d heard anything by this new English band called Black Midi.
“I don’t know what they’re doing, but it’s pretty cool,” he said.
That’s as good of an explanation of them and their debut album, Schlagenheim, as I can give. The band (Geordi Greep – guitar and vocals, Matt Kwasnievski-Kelvin – guitar, Cameron Picton – bass, and Morgan Simpson – drums) mixes prog-rock, math rock, shoegaze rock, kraut rock, Japanese black MIDI rock (for which they are named) and, for all I know, actual rocks to produce music that is baffling, intriguing, and mesmerizing. The band have stated in interviews that the music they’ll make in ten years will sound nothing like they’re making now. They love experimenting. I heard an interview in which one member said they’ll sometimes jam for two or three hours and only take two or three minutes of material from it. They blatantly defy any attempt to label their music, which some people might find maddening, but it somehow makes my job easier. It’s like when another friend of mine described Aqua Teen Hunger Force by saying, “Once I knew there was nothing to ‘get,’ I got it.”
The album opens with guitars pleading for their lives on “953” as a drum kit is beaten into oblivion by Simpson doing an impression of a drunken kung fu master. The lyrics, which have something to do with the wages of sin (I think) take a back seat to the chaos around them. Just to screw with your head more, “Speedway” starts off quiet and mellow (despite its title) and adds robotic vocals to further disassociate the band with the listener’s expectations.
“Reggae” is anything but reggae (although one could possibly compare it to some of The Police‘s more experimental tracks, as they loved reggae, but why bother?). It’s sharp drumming and post-punk guitars in some sort of three-way with the odd lyrics about “fresh leather shoes” and strutting in style. One can only guess that “near DT, MI” was written while the band was driving to or from there. Don’t expect it to sound like any Detroit bands (Stooges, MC5, White Stripes) because it’s more like angry punk band from Math-magic Land. You’ll understand once you hear the guitars and keys.
The band has been known to wear cowboy hats onstage, which, along with “Western,” might be hint to their secret love of country music. Lyrics about being up before daylight and unrequited love certainly qualify, but this is country music filtered through the computers used to pilot the Mars rover.
“Of Schlagenheim” has Greep singing of a woman with a hot temper while his bandmates create some kind of post-punk madness behind him (and some of Picton’s heaviest fuzz on the record). “bmbmbm” could be a Goblintrack in an alternate universe. “She moves with purpose,” Green singing while a woman cackles, laughs, and / or madly babbles in the background and Picton’s bass thuds like a hammer.
“Years Ago” is like riding a rollercoaster designed by H.P. Lovecraft, and the closer (and first single), “Ducter” is a track that’s evolved from when Greep and Kwasnievski-Kelvin used to busk in train stations that blends kraut rock synths with prog-rock jams.
I realize that this review is almost worthless, and you’ll understand this realization when you hear Schlagenheim. Another friend of mine saw Black Midi at the 2019 Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago. He told me their live set was a highlight of the weekend. I told him what my friend said about them.
“I don’t think they know what they’re doing either,” he said, “but they were amazing.”
Keep your mind open.
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Supergroups aren’t as rare as they used to be, and most of them aren’t as good as they should be. One comes along every now and then that is an exemplary example of the term, and L’Epee is such a band.
Consisting of Lionel and Marie Liminana (of The Liminanas), Anton Newcombe (of The Brian Jonestown Massacre), and Emmanuelle Seigner (of Ultra Orange and Emmanuelle), L’Epee’s debut album, Diabolique, is a stunning album of psychedelic rock inspired not only by the band members’ own projects, but also by The Velvet Underground, European film scores from the 1960’s (the album’s name is inspired by the Mario Bava film Danger: Diabolik), and garage rock.
The opener, “Une Lune Etrange” (“A Strange Moon”), has a French title and English lyrics. The whole album bounces back and forth between English and French vocals, adding another layer of coolness to the record. The first track brings Liminana’s guitar work to the forefront as Seigner (who does lead vocal duties throughout the record) sings about not having a care in the world as things devolve around her. She is in control of her own world and destiny.
“Lou” is a loving tribute to Lou Reed that chugs along with heady drumming by Marie Liminana and incense smoke synth and reverb effects by Newcombe. “Dreams” sounds like an unearthed Parisian garage rock single recorded in 1967. This is no surprise when you consider Newcombe has a practical warehouse of vintage gear from the era the band used to create a perfect sound to reflect the time period.
Seigner’s vocals on “La Brigade Des Malefices” (“The Hex Brigade” or “The Cursed Brigade,” depending on how you translate it) are almost spoken word poetry behind Joy Division-like beats and distorted guitars. The hand percussion on “On Dansait Avec Elle” (“We Were Dancing with Her”) is a nice touch, almost creating a waltz inside a psychedelic trip.
I don’t know if “Ghost Rider” has anything to do with the comic book characters (either the western hero on horseback or the flaming skull-headed guy on a motorcycle), but it would be a fitting song on a movie soundtrack for them. Seigner sings of “sadness all around me” as she views the world from the other side of the veil (“Baby, I’m dead.”). Mrs. Liminana’s beats are like a throbbing heart and her husband’s guitar work is like a distant echo.
“Grande” (“Tall” / “Large”) has Middle Eastern rhythms and “Springfield 61” brings in church bells to create one of the brightest songs on the album. “Un Rituel Inhabituel” (“An Unusual Ritual”) is almost an instrumental of Newcombe and Mr. Liminana going back and forth with waves of guitar while Seigner sings simple “La la la” sounds and Mrs. Liminana pounds her kit for the back of the club. The closer, “Last Picture Show,” references multiple 1960’s films (“Get Carter,” “Dressed to Kill,” and others) as Seigner sings about a mysterious woman and Mrs. Liminana unleashes relentless beats.
Diabolique is easily one of the best debut albums of the year, and certainly one of the best psych-rock releases of 2019. I hope this collaboration continues, because this is the stuff of dreams.
The title of the third album by Long Beach, California shoegazers Highlandsis intriguing – Wish You Were. There’s no ellipses or question mark or any other punctuation at the end of it, but it feels like a statement. It’s not “Wish You Were Here” or “Wish You Were Gone.” It’s Wish You Were. Were what, you ask? I like to think the answer to that question is, “Present,” but I have a feeling from some of the themes on this album that the answer refers to existence (“I wish you were real.”).
The first lyric to the opening track, “Dr. Ron,” is “Just who we are, no one has an idea.” Scott Holmes and J.P. Bendzinski‘s guitars criss-cross over each other like ripples on a pond from two different stones and Beau Balek‘s bass adds a slight bubbling menace while Justin Ivey‘s drum beat sounds simple but hides multiple layers within the track. If you think “Routine Dream” sounds like My Bloody Valentine, you’re probably right. MBV’s influence on the band is obvious from the opening powerful, echoing guitar chords (and dig that cool reverb!).
The vocals on “Flew Away” are barely perceptible at times, but still effective as they mix with guitar chords that remind one of sun bouncing off your sunglasses. The lyrics, as best as I can understand them, seem to sing of regret (“It’s too late.”) and accepting that you have to move on after people depart from your life (and sometimes their own). “Dizzy ’84” has some spaghetti western guitar touches that I love.
“You Have to Wait” brings in a little krautrock and electro flavor as it soars around the room. The guitars and bass on “Staring Away” sound like a ghost train rolling along abandoned tracks. Don’t worry about Ivey’s drums being left behind, because they’re in front on “Wilmore Town.” He and Balek drive the track while Holmes sings about taking things as they come and just being there – especially as we approach the end. The album is full of this sort of existential curiosity. It’s not quite dread, but the idea of facing death is certainly a theme running throughout the record, as is the realization that our actions can and do affect people we may never know…and we have to be ready to deal with those effects when they return to us.
Take, as another example, “Careful What You Wish.” It gleams as much as the southern California sun on the ocean at sunset, but the vocals (and the title) hide sage advice about desiring an imagined future instead of embracing what’s in front of you. The guitar solo on it in the biggest on the album. I don’t know if it’s Holmes or Bendzinski playing it, but it’s superb. “Unknown Moderation” brings in Cure-like bass and texture. The closer is “Cosmic Sigh,” with Balek’s bass paying tribute to Peter Hook and the rest of the band waxing the Silver Surfer’s board alongside him. The title can refer to a lot of things, but my guess is Highlands uses it to describe a moment of enlightenment when we realize how connected we are to everything.
This is a solid shoegaze record that will be much appreciated by fans of the genre. It brings you into the presence with its mesmerizing beats and hooks and reminds us to just be.
Husker Du‘s third album, New Day Rising, is as scorching today as it was in 1985. The band (Grant Hart – drums and vocals, Bob Mould – guitar and vocals, and Greg Norton – bass and vocals) were moving away from hardcore punk to more melodic tunes…but just barely.
The opening title track comes in hard to shove you into a real or imaginary mosh pit wherever you happen to be at the time. “The Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill” has Norton’s vocal chords shredding as hard as Mould’s guitars. Norton’s bass drives “I Apologize” as Mould sings about trying to make amends in a relationship going bad due to his short temper. Norton and Hart’s backing vocals (and Hart’s sharp cymbal crashes) give boost to Mould’s plea.
Gen X punk rockers like Hart, Mould, Norton, and myself still remember the anger we felt during the Reagan Era. Husker Du wrote about this on “Folk Lore” – a song that still rings true today with lyrics like “Now the women scream for equal rights, their man wants to have an affair, children learn to hate the world, and no one seems to care.” The abrupt end with the lyric “One thing I know for sure, your heroes always die.” is like right hook to the jaw.
Norton is pissed about someone turning their back on him in “If I Told You.” “I couldn’t convince you if I tried. You weren’t around the time that I cried,” he sings while Hart’s snare drum rolls sound like machine gun fire and Mould somehow turns up the fuzz on his guitar even more.
“Celebrated Summer” has Mould reminiscing about how fast time passes when you spend it “getting drunk out on the beach, or playing in a band” with your friends. “Perfect Example” switches things up with quieter guitars and slightly slower drums as Mould almost whispers lyrics about moving on from a bad relationship but still hoping he’ll be remembered for the good times.
Norton’s bass line on “Terms of Psychic Warfare” is instantly recognizable if you’re a fan of the band, and Hart’s vocals are a scathing rebuke of someone he left at the curb (“You’ve got your own bed now. I suggest that’s the one you sleep in.”). “59 Times the Pain” takes on a bit of shoegaze and sludge that’s almost disorienting. “Powerline” keeps the melodic drone going a bit longer, and “Books about UFOs” is a sweet love song to a girl who spends her time looking at the stars instead of what’s right in front of her.
“I Don’t Know What You’re Talking About” is a solid rocker about that guy everyone knows who rambles on like he’s an expert on everything yet gets angry when he’s confronted with facts that counter his argument. Huh. That sums up 2019 well, doesn’t it? “How to Skin a Cat” is weird chaos that you have to hear in order to appreciate. I can’t do it justice here. “Whatcha Drinkin’?” is a fun punk blast about getting drunk, regretting it, and getting drunk again later. The album ends with “Plans I Make” – an absolute barn burner of a tune with Mould going bonkers, Norton playing like he’s also driving a Grand Prix race car at the same time, and Hart trying to access the basement by pounding his kit through the floor. I realized how much Husker Du inspired A Place to Bury Strangersupon hearing it for the first time.
New Day Rising is a punk classic. It’s essential. All Husker Du is, really.
Pink Floyd‘s debut album, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, is one of those classic records that deserves its legendary status. Its influence can be found not only among all the other United Kingdom (and many elsewhere, of course) psychedelic bands of the 1960’s and 1970’s, but also among modern psych-rock bands around the globe. No one could have predicted this, of course, because the album is so damn weird.
The opener, “Astronomy Domine,” moves like a funeral dirge across the cosmos – somehow combining space rock with doom-psych. “Lucifer Sam” has a killer, fuzzy bass groove by Roger Waters while Syd Barrett sings a tribute to his cat (“That cat’s something I can’t explain.”). “Matilda Mother” pours on the echo effects as Barrett and Waters sings about a long-forgotten king and Richard Wright lays down a sweet organ solo. “Flaming” is a trippy, hippy track about “lazing in the foggy dew” and “sitting on a unicorn.”
“Pow R. Toc H.” is an instrumental track that brings in jazz piano and softens Nick Mason‘s beats to sound like they kept him behind a velvet curtain in a dark nightclub. It mixes in maniacal laughter and chaotic guitar riffs now and then to keep you on your toes. “Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk” is the first track on the album written by Waters, so it’s no surprise that bass and drums move to the forefront while Barrett’s guitar and Wright’s keys seem to be having their own, frantic conversation.
The second instrumental, “Interstellar Overdrive,” would help pave the way for doom-psych with its deep bass grooves, haunted house organ, Tell Tale Heart drums, and Psycho guitar. Just to mess with us, the next track on the album is “The Gnome” – which is literally about a gnome (named Grimble Gromble) going on a “big adventure amidst the grass.”
Need a song featuring Barrett’s view of the cosmos? How about “Chapter 24,” in which he sings, “All movement is accomplished in six stages and the seventh brings return. The seven is the number of the young light. It forms when darkness is increased by one.” Sure. Why not? It’s nice to hear Wright’s organ taking the lead among the instruments on it. “The Scarecrow” tick-tocks along like the subject’s arms “when the wind cut up rough.” The closer, “Bike,” is, believe it or not, a love song. Barrett offers to give his girl “anything, everything, if you want things” including his bike, his cloak, his mouse (named Gerald, although Barrett doesn’t know why), his gingerbread men, and, the most precious gift of all – his music. It’s a lot of fun at first, and then descends into some sort of Lovecraftian dream.
The album is fun, fascinating, and baffling. My dog had no idea what to make of it when I played it in the house one day. I’m still not sure what to make of it either, but that’s okay. You’ll find something different about it each time you hear it.
It doesn’t even take ten seconds for blues legend R.L. Burnside to hook you on his 1994 album Too Bad Jim. The opening guitar riff of the first track, “Shake ‘Em on Down,” is a floor-stomper that transports you back in time to a peanut shell-littered honkytonk bar serving cold beer out of a dented aluminum horse trough someone brought from their farm.
Too Bad Jim has plenty of rockers, but it is a blues record, after all. This is evidenced by the second track, “When My First Wife Left Me.” “When my first wife left me, God knows it put me out on the road,” Burnside sings at the beginning of this tale of hard times of his clothes getting very thin. “Short-Haired Woman” continues this trek down a lonely, dusty Mississippi road and features nothing but Burnside and his guitar that sounds both intimate and yet distant at the same time.
“Old Black Mattie” brings the drums back into play and gets everyone dancing (including the Black Keys, who are clearly influenced by Burnside’s playing, vocal stylings, and grooves). “Fireman Ring the Bell” keeps the floor shaking and “Peaches” switches up the groove to a sexy slink around the room as Burnside sings about his woman’s peaches being sweet. I think you get the idea.
“Miss Glory B.” is another solo lament about how Burnside is burdened by gossip even though he tries to keep to himself. He’s out to silence those rumors on “.44 Pistol,” which brings in the heaviest drums on the record and practically makes you strut around the room. You’re going to experience “Death Bell Blues” if you carry that pistol around long enough, and Burnside sings about the impending nature of death and wondering when and how the hooded guy with the scythe will escort him to the next life. The album ends with the longest track, “Goin’ Down South” – a dark cut about walking a long road of temptation, vices, and certain doom. Burnside saves some of his best guitar shredding for the closer, and the creepy crawl of the song would make even doom metal bands nod their heads in time and with appreciation.
It’s a solid album and a clinic on raw blues from a bluesman who, thankfully, got the recognition he deserved before he died in 2005.
It had been well over a decade since I’d seen Reverend Horton Heat, New Bomb Turks, or Voodoo Glow Skulls live, so buying a ticket to their show at Chicago’s House of Blues was a no-brainer. New Bomb Turks are one of my favorite punk bands of all time, and Reverend Horton Heat is an unstoppable touring machine. VGS are bonkers ska punks whose blood is probably the formula for Red Bull. The icing on the cake was learning that punk / psychobilly legend Dave Alvin was going to be playing a half-hour set with Reverend Horton Heat during the show (which was called the “Holiday Hayride”).
Voodoo Glow Skulls opened the show, getting the crowd jumping and moshing and bouncing. They played new and older tracks, including a fun cover of “Charlie Brown” and their blistering new song, “Generation Genocide.”
New Bomb Turks were up next and threw down a fiery, raucous set that left a lot of people dumbfounded. Lead singer Eric Davidson did his best to keep the crowd fired up, including trying to pull people onstage. Only four people, me included, took him up on the offer (Me during their classic “Dress Up the Naked Truth,” which resulted in Mr. Davidson violating my mouth with his microphone while I knelt before him). The set was so quick and furious that the crowd seemed stunned into silence by the time they were done.
Reverend Horton Heat opened with an instrumental version of “We Three Kings” and then switched back and forth between fan-favorites like “400 Bucks” and “Bales of Cocaine” and Christmas tunes like “Silver and Gold” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” The whole band are top-notch musicians. A nice addition for the home crowd was the pianist, a Texan by birth, but a Chicago theatre veteran who played Jerry Lee Lewis in the local production of Million Dollar Quartet.
The whipped cream on the holiday pumpkin pie was a half-hour set by Dave Alvin (singer-songwriter, founding member of The Blasters and The Flesh Eaters) with the Reverend Horton Heat band backing him. Alvin commanded the stage as soon as he set foot on it and put on a guitar clinic, often leaving Jim Heath (AKA Rev. Heat) grinning and saying, “Well, I guess we have to follow that.” after Alvin exited stage left.
Dave Alvin takes center stage.
It’s a fun tour and was a jolly way to start the holiday season. It might be the last show I see in 2019, and it’s a good way to end my year of live music if that’s the case.
