I picked up this delightful three-disc house music compilation at Reckless Records in London last year for a mere two pounds. As the cover reads, it’s forty-five tracks. You could just put any of these into a DJ set and walk away for a little while.
Each of the discs has plenty of outstanding tracks on it. Disc One, for example, has a lovely mix of Ron Hall and The Muthafunkaz‘ “The Way You Love Me” with Marc Evans on vocals. Paul Johnson‘s “Get Get Down” is a lot of fun. Kathy Brown‘s “Don’t Give Up” is pure house bliss, as is the ’98 mix of Maw‘s “To Be in Love.” Soulsearcher‘s “Can’t Get Enough” is a house classic and not to be missed.
Disco Two starts off with six straight bangers: Bob Sinclair‘s “I Feel for You,” Powerhouse‘s “What You Need,” A.T.F.C.‘s “Bad Habit,” Sandy Rivera‘s ” I Can’t Stop,” and Knee Deep‘s “Good for Da Hole” and “I”ll Be There For You.” Soul Rebels‘ “I’ll Be Good,” with the great Lisa Millet on vocals, is a for-sure floor-filler.
Disc Three gets thumping right away with Junior Jack‘s “Stupidisco.” “Believe” by Ministers De La Funk (with Jocelyn Brown on vocals) brings a bit of gospel flair to the mix, which is always welcome in house music. M‘s “So Fly” is killer, full of fun raps and retro video game bleeps backed with a solid dance beat. Timmy Vegas & Andy Daniell‘s “Disco Shit” is the shit. The early 90’s rave vibe of it is top-notch. Martin Solveig‘s “Rocking Music” gets your attention and doesn’t let go of it. Mood II Swing‘s “Can’t Get Away” is a good example of a house music staple – songs about how you sometimes can’t quit love that’s great in some ways but bad in others.
This compilation is well worth finding if you can.
To say that Faithless‘ 1996 album, Sunday 8pm, was a monumental release at the time is a bit of an understatement. Everyone was clamoring for albums like this, for bands like Massive Attack and Portishead and, really, anything from the UK that sounded like those bands, and then Faithless comes along and proves that they weren’t a cookie cutter band in the molds of those other great bands, but one that had their own unique style that mixed ambient music, shoegaze, trip hop, dub, and, yes, spiritual music.
Consider Maxi Jazz‘s line of “Even sitting in the garden one can still get stung.” on “The Garden.” It’s a Zen reminder at the start of an album that will explore love, loss, loneliness, yearning, reunions, and separations. On “Bring My Family Back,” Jazz reminisces about working hard to get ahead and realizing, once he’s “made it” that he hasn’t really arrived at anything worthwhile. Again, more Zen.
Please check your pulse if the drums on “Hour of Need” don’t get you moving. It’s a delightful song about letting your lover know you’ll be there for them when they’re at their lowest. “Postcards” is an instant classic, with Jazz’s lyrics taken from postcards he sent home during the band’s U.S. tour. “Take the Long Way Home” isn’t a cover of the Supertramp classic (although that would be wild to hear), but rather a synth-laden dance floor classic with snappy hi-hat beats and sexy, thudding bass.
On “Why Go?”, the band sing about a lover who unexpectedly shows up and how it can be awkward to talk them into staying. Unlike, “She’s My Baby,” a wild song that has Jazz talking about his wild sex life with his gal. The only thing more sultry than the lyrics is the wicked beat throughout it. “God Is a DJ” was, and still is, another classic, with Faithless (rightfully) comparing raves and dance clubs to places of worship, fellowship, and healing. To further that symbolism, the next track is “Hem of His Garment” – which speaks of love as something to be worshipped and cherished. “Killer’s Lullaby” is another thumper, and the special edition of the album has a sharp remix by Nightmares on Wax to boot – as well as a Paul Van Dyk remix of “Bring My Family Back.”
Sunday 8pm is a classic of the mid-1990s house / rave scene that still sounds fresh today.
Hit Me! The Best of Ian Dury is a great three-disc collection of Ian Dury classics, demo tracks, live cuts, new wave bangers, tenders ballads, and punk ragers from one of the best songwriters of his era.
Starting with two funky floor-fillers out of the gate, “Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll” and “Wake Up and Make Love with Me,” the compilation is already firing on all cylinders. I discovered Dury’s work through live versions of songs like this when I was in a record store in Bloomington, Indiana and the clerk was playing a live album from Dury and his killer band, The Blockheads. I thought, “Who is this?” and had been intrigued ever since. I snatched up this collection at a London record store as soon as I saw it.
It doesn’t disappoint. Ever. “Sweet Gene Vincent” pays tribute to one of Dury’s heroes. “Clevor Trever” and “Billericay Dickie” have Dury taking on alternate identities (Or are they?). “Blockheads” (with Dury singing / yelling toward the back of the room) ended up giving his future band their name. Dury is brutally honest with himself, and any female suitors, on the groovy “If I Was with a Woman.” “The Mumble Rumble and the Cocktail Rock” showcases Dury’s love of 1950s jukebox rockers. “Crippled with Nerves” (a song about his life with polio) showcases his love of country, gospel, and Elvis Presley, whereas “Blackmail Man” is a punk punch in the face…and that’s all on just the first disc.
Disc two starts with two more classics – “Reasons to Be Cheerful (Part 3)” and “Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick.” “What a Waste” is sultry and slippery, reminding me of some of Frank Zappa‘s work, and the groove of “Inbetweenies” is outstanding. On “I Want to Be Straight,” Dury and the Blockheads are “sick and tired of taking drugs and staying up late.” The saxophone work on “Waiting for Your Taxi” is perfect for a late 1970s crime film. “Dance of the Screamers” turns into a psych-jazz freakout with disco beats behind it, showing us how the Blockheads were (are) one of the best bands out there. That hot disco groove continues on “Don’t Ask Me.”
“Mash It Up Harry” starts out disc three with a reggae twist (and, later, “Itinerant Child” continues it). “Dance Little Rude Boy” is another funky classic made even funkier by the electric piano work throughout it. The live version of “Spasticus Autisticus” is sharp as a razor and is a brief glimpse of how much the Blockheads were a murderer’s row of musicians. The guitar solo on “Bed O’Roses” is somewhere between a yacht rock anthem and a prog-rock ripper. The relentless rhythm of “Jack Sh*t George” is perfect for both a new wave club or even a late 1980s nighttime talk show theme. The disc, and the collection ends with a demo version of “England’s Glory,” which has a rough, raw edge to it that’s great, and it sounds like Dury and his band had a fun time in the studio that day.
This is a great entry point to Dury’s music, and it certainly made me want to find live albums by him.
Keep your mind open.
[I’ll have another reason to be cheerful if you subscribe,]
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.
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.
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.
Kat Day and Nicholas Wood, otherwise known as The KVB, released their Unityalbum 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.
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.
[Unite with the subscription box while you’re here.]
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.
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.
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.
