THE ONE ENSEMBLE OF DANIEL PADDEN – S/T and THE OWL OF FIVES

(CDs on Catsup Plate and Textile Records respectively)

I don’t think it’s ever possible to overrate the importance of landscape. If you have an open mind, free from too many preconceptions, I am sure it will always suck you in, but it will of course affect you in different ways depending on location. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that a lot of the most fascinating music created today has its origin in places draped in natural beauty or which hold certain characteristics of a similar power.

I’m not quite sure what’s magical about the place Daniel Padden calls home, but his music reminds me of a road trip that I did the other week. I went through miles of deep Scandinavian forests and there were times when I thought nothing else would ever show up again. But suddenly, when you least expected something to happen the distance between the trees started to increase and before I knew it I entered the gate of this beautiful hidden valley. It was like a start of something new and as I continued through a flower-clad avenue of old oaks leading down to a dark lake I couldn’t help but to feel privileged to have seen something so pure, free and mind-blowing. I am guessing that Padden and Volcano the Bear (an indescribable and quite wonderful combo that he’s been involved with) every now and then is trekking to this very valley to find the hidden music that they with excellent results have brought to the light of the public.

  Travelling and seeing places seems to have been important for Padden since his childhood as he was lucky enough to have parents who regularly took him off on walking and camping trips. He describes these places “as something timelessness – they have always been there, despite what else comes and goes. Standing amongst mountains makes you feel so small and insignificant, but also so empowered and inspired. My girlfriend and I were in the Lake District recently, and we walked up the Hardknott Pass, which I think is the highest road in Britain. Towards the top the sound suddenly changed, and you realised you were in a different place. It’s hard to describe, but you were walking at the same altitude as hawks were flying at, and it was a very strange and wonderful sensation. Something to do with different realms. I do like music that feels like its always been there. Music that is timeless or ‘ageless’ in that sense. Music that isn’t reliant on the technology of the day. Music that is made for its own sake. Music that works within its own self-created boundaries. Of course there are always your own imaginary landscapes too, which can be just as powerful and inspiring as anything else.”

    So maybe it makes sense that it feels like Padden’s music just has been hanging in the air of this specific vista, awaiting the right guy to come along and interpret it to something, which is audible for the masses. What we’re served on Padden’s second solo outing The Owl of Fives is a kind of free folk which comes packed with equal parts melancholia, dissonance and fragile beauty. No track is ever built up the way you expect them to be but there’s nothing forced about these multi-instrumental folk meanderings. I am not really sure how he manages to be so successful at his game but there’s something so natural in the way keys, strings, horns, bells and percussion merge into one united trail through the wilderness. Words like stumbling, fractured and fragmentized comes to mind but the overall impression is rather the one of seasons going by and colours changing in accordance to the sounds presented. Imagine an instrumental version of Tanakh teaming up with Kemialliset Ystävät or Tower Recordings and you’re definitely in the right terrain. And what a mesmerizing terrain it proves to be.

    If you like the sound of this there are absolutely no reasons why you shouldn’t also track down Padden’s self-titled debut on the always-brilliant Catsup Plate imprint, as some of the material on The Owl of Fives actually was created at the same time as the first album, but not used. Here's an album that is so distinctly unique in its sound that it's hard to think of any comparisons at all. And I guess that's probably what you expect from a guy who's been involved with the ’Bear since 1995. Being a follower of that band doesn't really prepare you for this mostly instrumental album though, as it includes less free improvisation and maybe is a little bit more concise and focused; containing abstract stylistic juxta-positions that despite its unorthodox nature always remains soothing for the soul. What we get is muffled clusters of soundscapes hovering over distinct folk structures that stumble along gently into an abstracted, imaginary space packed with emotion and intimacy. Depending on your own imagination this space can be found in rural Scotland, not too far from where Richard Youngs is at, but it's more likely to have you thinking about that dream you had about hiking in Southeast Asia. Dreams tend to come back to quite a few of my reviews, but if I would recommend only one record from 2002 to accompany my dreams, The One Ensemble of Daniel Padden might very well be the one.

    When asking Padden how important dreams are to him and if they play any kind of role in the creation of his music he responded like this: “I frequently dream of instruments that don’t exist. I find them in odd shops and people’s houses covered in dust or in cupboards. They all make wonderful noises and I cherish them. Then I wake up and they’re not there, and I’m sad for a little while. These dreams have been going on for years now – I still remember what some of them look like. Occasionally I’ll dream of music too, though sometimes it’s gone before I can get to a pen (which wouldn’t help anyway as I can’t read or write music). As I said before though, imaginary landscapes inform my music a lot, in terms of feel and time and space especially. I’d like to be able to score music, but instead I think I pick up on the ‘feel’ of sound as much as anything else, and ‘feel’ is something I get a lot of from dreams and imaginings. I don’t know if this is related, but I regularly experience very strong ‘deja-vu’ situations. I’ve had one whilst writing these words too.”

    I am not exactly sure what it is with Padden's deranged waltzes, bizarre piano structures, kazoo, scraped strings and cello that makes these records so magical, mysterious, gorgeous and innovative. But what I do know is that they move me like very few records have lately, and I know for a fact they affect your Editor in the same way, since Phil was unhesitating in asking me to review these records. I can't recommend Padden’s work enough. Essential. (Mats Gustafsson)

THE BEVIS FROND - HIT SQUAD

(CD on Woronzow)

    Nick Saloman and his Bevis buddies have hatched another solid collection of Saloman songs upon the world with "Hit Squad". The title track is one of the album's few moments of levity, sounding a bit like a manic 60s TV theme. Elsewhere the songs and sounds range from gentle acoustic balladry to impassioned folk rock, and even a few chunky burning embers. I like this album a lot; overall the tone is laced with self-questioning and moments of doubt and sorrow; but it also feels in tune with the times in this regard. This features several songs on a par with the best stuff Nick's ever written. Kicking off with the subtle, but lush "All Set?" with it's gleaming brass arrangements, and melancholic undertow. "Through the Hedge" begins with a weird spoken word loop and soon opens onto a widescreen Bevis Frond classic with a haunted feeling and soaring guitars, bass, keyboards and drums for almost nine minutes. The accusatory "Alpha Waves" is one of those patented Frondian reproaches that feels almost as affectionate as it does pissed-off. The soulful nostalgic "Way Back When" features a lovely Beach Boys-like harmony, as well as a bitter and sweet wistful quality. "Flood Warning" is semi-mythical introspection, with a ringing revelatory feeling that combines elation with thoughts of despair. "Your Little Point" feels like interpersonal resentment building to a boiling point, or passion tangled in some sort of frustrating knot. The tenderly beautiful "Crumbs" is the kind of love song that only Nick Saloman could write. The urgent mounting panic of "Doing Nothing" feels like a garagey thunderous dragon stomping and spraying guitar fire from it's tongue. "High Point" reminds me of The Band, back when they used to make it look so easy. This ends with the eleven and a half minute "Fast Falls the Eventide" which mourns in a hypnotic circle of sadness and surrender. There are many other fine songs amongst the eighteen that comprise the nineteenth Bevis Frond album. (George Parsons)

THE RESIDUAL ECHOES OF THE GREAT EXPLOSION – FIRST ALBUM

(CD-R from Big Music Records, 106 Ocean Street, Santa Cruz CA 95060 USA)

It had to happen sooner or later. It was inevitable I suppose that eventually someone would peer so far down into the terrascopic musical gene-pool 

that they’d fall in head-first and come out of it sounding like some bastard amalgam of a myriad different influences, a zombie come to eat your offspring and shit on your stereo with sounds so distorted and yet at once so familiar-sounding that you’re left crawling around the floor amidst the wreckage of your own record collection trying vainly to pick up at least one thread and follow it to a natural conclusion. But you can’t, because there’s nothing natural about it, it’s unreal, it’s – quite literally – out of this world.

     It all started when an innocuous-looking package from California arrived on my doorstep containing a CD-R and a spidery letter from someone signing himself off as “An avid P.T. reader and nerd.” Turns out his name’s Adam Payne, and he credits himself with “guitars, hollering, shitty bass, drum lessons, reeds, Korg MS 2000, fuzz, auto-harmonium, computer din and migraine”. It’s a good start – we like self-effacing, being masters of the art ourselves. Apparently 20 year old Adam moved to Santa Cruz a couple of years back from Los Angeles, armed only with “a simple affinity for garage punk and the Floyd... and I ended up meeting Ethan Miller from Comets on Fire and Ben Chasny which pretty much set things in motion. Those guys are gods to me”. More good stuff – I have to admit, those guys are minor deities hereabouts as well.

Picture this, though. Take the hallucinatory ballistics of the drum track from Pink Floyd’s ‘Astronomy Dominé’. Then take a leaf out of the Comets on Fire guitar book and tear it to shreds, set it on fire and listen while it screams. Behind that layer some truly demented guitar lifted straight off the Hampton Grease Band’s sole album – oh, and toss in some Beefheartian saxophone-throttling weirdness to boot, just to stretch the HGB analogy still further. What’s missing? Oh, right – a little Mad River perhaps, that trademark high-pitched West Coast guitar sound - and perhaps some blood-curdling feedback in the “Live/Dead” mould. Let’s have a few moments of that too, shall we? Splendid – that’s track 1 finished. I think we’ll call it ‘Beginning and Slant’. Track two, all eleven minutes of ‘The Diamond Drops’, sets off into Six Organs of Admittance territory, before heading off onto an altogether different path, a path on which the guitars aren’t so much played as tortured, bent screaming until they obey the twisted intentions of their master. Ten minutes later we’re passing through the Neutral Milk Hotel and out the other side again (way out) to a track entitled ‘A Start Parts 1 and 3’, on which Adam, worryingly solo until now, is accompanied by the live band (David Novick, Tom Cabella and Marcello Fama). It’s two parts Hampton Grease Band and a grain of the JPT Scare Band, with a nod towards the Velvet Underground on mushrooms at the close.

 Awesome, awe-inspiring and yet somehow inspirational, it’s as insane as it is crazy. I honestly don’t care if this is the future or the end of rock & roll as we know it – either way, right now I feel as if want to be buried alongside it. Oh, and to cap it all, Adam’s now pressed up some vinyl copies of the album, spray-painting found sleeves to give each one that hand-drawn look. Drop him a line at residualechoes@hotmail.com (Phil McMullen)

SIX ORGANS OF ADMITTANCE - THE MANIFESTATION

(CD on Strange-Attractors)

    It’s strange fortune that brings The Manifestation back into my hands. I purchased an original version of the edition of 500 one sided LP’s at Terrastock 4 in Seattle on the eve of its release. That same weekend I witnessed Six Organs live for the first time—a monumental performance every flower-loving, underground hippie in attendance will likely never forget. I basked in the warm glow of friendship and enjoyed precious moments with other folks who’ve been regularly revered in these pages, or contributed to them in some way over the years. As Terrastock was a celebration of love that reaches beyond borders, The Manifestation was made to serve a similar purpose.

            The original Badabing release came as clear vinyl, with an extended, unclassifiable droney/folk jam on one side and a primitive etching of the sun on the other, all housed in a clear plastic sleeve. The sun is a reference to a light that eventually reaches even the darkest parts of the universe, a kind of declaration of love rendered as a pagan musical celebration. And now, the arrival of a gorgeous extended CD version on Strange-Attractors confirms The Manifestation’s place amid the spheres and reminds us just what a wonder it is to behold. As the original document was a celebration of light, this extended version dares to take things through the mirror, to the other side.            

            The title track runs the gamut from shuffling shakers, drones and more to trance-inducing spoken word (featuring the voice of a young female), which will have one reaching for comparisons to early 90s Current 93, a definite influence on Chasny’s music, while his rabid fingerpicking and strumming portray a willful wildness more in debt to Robbie Basho. It’s a striking piece by any measure of the imagination, and remains one of the highest points in the Six Organs catalog, but then comes the B-side, a storm of clicks and pops—literally the sound of the original vinyl etching being played on a turntable—with none other than David Tibet delivering spoken word over top. There’s more to it than that, though. Chasny incorporates the concept of Bode’s Law into the recording: The stylus serves as the sun, each point of contact on the vinyl is a planet, and Tibet’s voice stands for the Earth, which as the “center of the universe” has no mode or audible key at all. In many ways this release completes the promise of the original Manifestation and manages that rare feat of being just as essential and moving a statement as the original, plus something more. (Lee Jackson)

PAIK – SATIN BLACK

(CD on Strange Attractors Audio House, PO Box 13007, Portland, OR 97213-0007, USA)

For their fourth album, Paik hack through some of the heaviest thickets of sonic foliage of their career, creating a dark twin to the blissful noise of kindred Michigan spirits Windy and Carl. Opening track ‘Jayne Field’ is one of their finest workouts, carving robust melodies out of granite obelisks of noise and existing comfortable at the intersection point of early 90s UK noise-pop and post-grunge psychedelic rock. More than anything it suggests the immediacy of Paik live. As does the more industrial ‘Dirt for Driver’, which sports uncompromising riffage seemingly carved from Detroit’s proto-punk musical heritage, but which also nods in the direction of My Bloody Valentine on their cataclysmic final tour. ‘Dizzy Stars’ is as disorienting as the title suggests, spiralling down into a trash-compactor of slow-motion tectonics the like of which one might obtain by playing Swervedriver’s first LP at half speed. ‘Stellar Meltdown en el Oceano’ takes it one step further, reducing the glacial riffage of previous tracks into feedback drenched slab of minimalism that would not be out place on one of Sonic Youth’s self-released series of EPs. Fine details try and break out of the mix like animals trapped in a tar pit, usually to no avail. Slowly, guitars mass and take flight from the chaos, displacing the air like dragon’s wings and the apocalypse is just a heartbeat away. But it’s not all fun and games. The 15 minute long title track wears out its welcome early, spiralling downward toward a terminus of intractable drone. Perhaps the exercise was cathartic for the participants, but as a listener it’s like having one’s nose pressed up against glass viewing someone else’s epiphany. The experience can be inferred – understood even - but the end result is just a fogged-up window and a feeling of exclusion. But there is merit enough elsewhere on this 60-minute release to justify your hard-earned cash. (Tony Dale) [Phil adds: Paik are one of my favourite bands right now, so I was delighted when Dan from Tonevendor offered to score me a copy of the limited-edition double LP version of this album which has been put out by Clair Records. I have to say, I think the music suits the vinyl format more than it does the CD somehow – with ‘Dizzy Stars’ and ‘Satin Black’ each given an entire side of their own to sprawl across, the listener is encouraged to take them out of the context of the remaining material and be sucked down into the two opposing forces of dissonance, or alternatively to flip the record over to consider the punchier material as an alternative. Works for me!]

JEFF KELLY – FOR THE SWAN IN THE HALLWAY

(CD on Hidden Agenda- address shown above)

    Ever since I first heard ‘Coffee In Nepal’ I have been captivated by Jeff Kelly, both as a solo artist and with the wonderful Green Pajamas. If there was any justice in the music business, and we know there isn’t, then Jeff’s songs would be sung by everybody and his sell-out gigs would be the talk of the town. Sadly, this isn’t the case but that doesn’t stop the flow of top-notch song writing from this talented musician.

  ‘For the Swan in the Hallway’, his latest collection, is another enchanting journey through the intimate parts of Jeff’s mind, which grows brighter and more rewarding with each listen. The first two tracks, the ever so brief ‘Melisande 1’ and ‘Kissing Alma Mahler’ remind you immediately that you have entered Jeff Kelly’s world but the album really gets going with the slow burning majesty of the title track. Influenced by a visit to a 300-year old London pub (complete with Abba on the stereo!), it begins with a simple chugging guitar which is fleshed out with psychedelic keyboard flourishes and some of Jeff’s fluid guitar lines, the music sliding into your head in a most welcome manner, a song that always ends too soon. ‘Stutter’ repeats the magic wearing its emotions on its sleeve with wistful pride.

  ‘Oxford Street’ again inspired by a visit to London, (much of the album takes a recent trip to England as it’s inspiration) is a tourist’s eye view of the famous street, complete with street sounds, and manages to mention London buses and London girls.

  Taking it’s inspiration from a lock of Emily Bronte’s hair found at the Parsonage Museum in Haworth, ‘The lock’ starts with a haunting piano motif and gentle percussion, the lyrics slowly drawing you into an extremely personal world, and as the strings and bass fill out the song the atmosphere is achingly beautiful. ‘After image’ a tribute to Helen Humphries’s novel continues with the subtle psychedelia that Jeff Kelly excels at, all brooding guitar overlaid with soft piano and lyrics that consistently add another texture to the song. In fact, the lyric, as with all Jeff Kelly’s albums, are beautifully written revealing different meaning and hidden nuances each time you hear them.

  ‘Whispers in the pool’ is a more upbeat affair, a brief but jaunty interlude, followed by the dreamy pop of ‘Ever so brightly’ with guitars intertwining into a glittering jewel with some suggestive lyrics added to the mix. Again influenced by an incident in England, ‘The girls of the ford’ recalls the day that Jeff was subject to some good-natured verbal abuse whilst photographing an old Ford. The song itself is a rockier affair with buzzing guitars and a driving bass line filling it out. The mood is slowed down again by ‘the depth of my desire’ the piano picking notes from the air and letting them fall onto this gentle song like English rain.

  ‘Melisande 2’ brings back the brief opening and extends it into a fragile tribute to Debussy’s opera ‘Pelleas and Melisande’, I’m sure he would approve. Final song ‘A night at the opera’ is a light-hearted tale about sex at the opera and is a fine way to finish a wonderful album that demands several listens before the full picture emerges filled with personal stories, colour and majesty. (Simon Lewis)

THE GREEN PAJAMAS – TEN WHITE STONES

(CD on Hidden Agenda c/o Parasol, 303 West Griggs Street, Urbana IL 61801 USA)

  Another Terrascope, another Green Pajamas record, another outtake on the compilation CD; isn’t it good to know that in life some things never change? Mind you, we’re going to have to go some to get a new issue out in time for the next Pajamas album, given that it’s scheduled for release “soon” (and tentatively entitled ‘The Night Races Into Anna’). ‘Ten White Stones’ is more, far more, than a mere stop-gap collection though. Recorded live in the studio throughout, it has a wonderfully revealing rawness about it, a spontaneous vitality and freshness which few outside of those lucky enough to have witnessed their occasional live sets in Seattle taverns or at Terrastock festivals would be likely to guess; all that and Jeff Kelly beating the living daylights out of his electric guitar as only he can. The agenda is laid out straight away with the opening song in fact, ‘The Cruel Night’ (from ‘Northern Gothic’) featuring a blistering and truly revelatory lead solo from the big fella’ himself. Another Northern Gothic favourite ‘Lost Girls Song’ appears later into the collection, but aside from those two and the evergreen ‘(She’s Still) Bewitching Me’ the remaining seven songs are previously unreleased – including at least one bona-fide Green Pajamas classic in the old-school mould, “For S”, and one, ‘Blue Eyes To Haunt Me’, which Jeff only introduced to the band at the last moment, pretty much as they recorded it. There really is something here for everyone, from the die-hard fan to the curiously curious, a finely tuned balance of literacy, melody, psychedelia and good ol’ fashioned rock ‘n’ roll, and I guarantee that in years to come this is going to be hailed as one of THE must-have albums in anyone’s representative Green Pajamas collection. (Phil)

MICK STEVENS – SEE THE MORNING/NO SAVAGE WORD

(CD on Shadoks c/o Normal Records, Bonner Talweg 276, 53129 Bonn, Germany)

    Shadoks have outdone themselves with this double-disk package (at a single disk price!) which brings together both albums from this obscure mid-70s English folksinger. Everything you’ll love or hate about 1972’s 'See The Morning' is present in the 6-minute opener, ‘Smile Again:’ it’s a pleasant, sunshine folk pop number with lovely harmonies from Des Brewer, wah-wah guitar, and nimble-fingered jamming – sort of CSNY meets Swedish folk/psych loner, S.T. Mikael. ‘Catherine’ also benefits from lovely harmonies and shows a fine appreciation for the early folk side of Strawbs, and I love that frisky, country-rock flavour of ‘Joe’s Kaph,’ which combines the best of The Dead, New Riders, Help Yourself and Brinsley Schwarz.

If, like me, you believe that David Crosby’s 'If I Could Only Remember My Name' is the height of 70s stoner folk/psych, then you’ll be all over ‘Judianna’. From the opening screaming electric guitar solo of ‘Runaround,’ which has more than a passing resemblance to Jefferson Airplane in general and Jimmy Page’s contributions to Al Stewart’s 'Love Chronicles' in particular, 1975’s 'No Savage Word' announces we are in for more than a passing retread of the debut. For starters, Stevens enlists a full band, which includes future mega-producer, Warne Livesey (Midnight Oil, Julian Cope, The The, All About Eve, House of Love, Jesus Jones and many more – face it, you’ve got an album that he produced in your collection) on bass and guitar, Mick Ransome on drums and John Theedom on acoustic guitar (on side one). While the fuller sound rarely brings anything new to Stevens’ lovely melodies, I did enjoy Theedom’s accompaniment and Livesey’s glockenspiel on “Easy Love,” a mellow headnodder similar to the earlier release.

 A lengthy cover of Davey Graham’s ‘Angie’ (“deranged and played on acoustic guitar by Mick Stevens”) washes the stale taste of Simon & Garfunkle’s more popular version out of your ears, but feels uncomfortably out of place in its heavier surroundings; although, once again, Stevens’ guitar playing is stellar. But these are minor quibbles on this otherwise wonderful, laid-back, if slightly less accessible collection. An exquisite find and required listening for fans of the early 70’s folk/psych of Keith Christmas, David Crosby, the Brinsleys and Help Yourself. (Jeff Penczak)

GYPSY – THE ROMANY COLLECTION

(CD on Hux Records, 44 East Beach, Lytham, Lancs FY8 5EY)

  To many people, memories of the teenage years when you begin to discover music for yourself and take your first solo flight around the record racks tend to stay with you as you grow older. The bands you saw and the records you bought at that time take on a shimmering patina as if polished by regular handling – even if in some cases it’s decades since you actually thought of them. One mention of their name or a song heard on the radio though is often enough to transport you back and put a smile on your face. And, of course, it’s different for each one of us – that’s what makes it all so fascinating.

  My own “golden era”, as it were, can be pinpointed fairly accurately to the Spring of 1971 to the Winter of ’72; an eighteen month period in which I spent every spare penny I could find on reading about and buying records by bands who I could hug to my chest and call my own. I’d already heard the bands my friends were all talking about; these though were my bands, I was setting out on my own personal voyage of discovery – one which has, sadly perhaps, never really ended. I suppose the day it does will be when I finally grow up - or get buried, whichever comes first.

  It coincided with an all too brief timespan when, for some odd reason, an assorted bunch of British bands suddenly started to exude American west-coast influences. Long hair, patched jeans and cowboy chic were the order of the day, and Quicksilver, Moby Grape and the Buffalo Springfield were the hippest names to claim allegiance to. Gypsy were typical of that breed (along with Cochise, Help Yourself, Brinsley Schwarz, Home and others too numerous to mention); formerly a bona-fide flower-power outfit from Leicester named, somewhat unfortunately perhaps, Legay (one collectable 1968 single, ‘No One’ b/w ‘The Fantastic Story of the Steam Driven Banana’), in 1969 they decamped to London, set up home above a Wimpy Bar along the road from the Pink Fairies, changed their name to Gypsy and secured themselves a slot at the 1969 Isle of Wight Festival performing their new West Coast sound. A five-piece group with three guitarists, it was ironically perhaps their tightness and vocal harmonies which won them a record deal in 1970 with Liberty/United Artists, their eponymously titled album finally getting released in 1971 along with a non-LP single, ‘Changes Comin’ b/w the Neil Young inspired ‘Don’t Cry On Me’ (which just so happened to be my own introduction to the band courtesy of a late-night airing on the radio heard, as I remember, under canvas somewhere near Glastonbury whilst camping with a bunch of mates!)

  Inevitably perhaps the album didn’t sell as well as expected – a recurring theme whenever we mention any of these bands in this column it seems – dissatisfaction set in, the line-up changed slightly (including the addition of the mighty Ray Martinez, late of Spring, on guitar) and after a second album, the country-tinged ‘Brenda and the Rattlesnake’, and a tour in 1972, the band broke up.

  ‘The Romany Collection’ (Gypsy, Romany – geddit?) features their entire first album, the single released around the same time, plus six songs which date back to the same period but for one reason or another failed to make it onto either the first album or ‘Brenda’. If you haven’t heard Gypsy before then this is as fine an introduction as you’ll need – and if you’re like me and remember them fondly, you won’t want to waste any time picking this up and reliving a few happy memories of a fine little band. (Phil)

THE GALACTIC ZOO DOSSIER COMPENDIUM

(Book, Published by Drag City)

Editor Steve Krakow’s counter-cultural ’zine has it’s impossible-to-find early editions (1 to 4) republished and reshaped into a rather snazzy, perfect-bound 144 pager that’s being distributed by those fine folks from Drag City. Consistency is the watchword here; even these early works, full of knowledgeable and enthusiastic gushing, have that unique handwritten style that outlines his twin obsessions with the furthest outreaches of psychedelia and comic book art. On the first hand there’s a detailed exchange with Simeon of the Silver Apples, pieces on ‘Acid Cults’ (including Ya Ho Wa 13, whose ‘Penetration’ LP has recently been given a legit vinyl reissue through Swordfish Records), ‘Pedal Steel and Fuzz’ (with the Byrds and the Burritos) and a densely populated raft of potted histories. These involve the (other) Birds, Poets, Masters Apprentices etc. Steve’s second love delves into the weird world of Sixties comix where random panels house uncanny creations such as ‘Proteus’, ‘Dr Spectro’ and ‘Dormammu’ (the latter, if memory serves, had a British goth band named after him in the mid-Eighties), all originating from the driven genius of Steve Ditko – best remembered as the creator of Dr. Strange. Even some of the more straight-laced inkers at Marvel loosened their ties a little and started to spew out some pre-psych weirdery – ‘Polka Dot Man’, ‘Spellbinder’ and ‘The Zodiac Master’ were simply TOO kinky to have been appropriated by pop artists like Mel Ramos and Roy Lichtenstein as gallery fodder.

In case you’re having second thoughts, I think that rock ‘n’ roll and comix complement one another just fine and share one obvious thing in common (no, it’s not Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’) – they’ve both been seen as the avatars of moral decline since the year dot. The “Moral Frenzy Corporation” that instigated “The Comic Code Authority” in the fifties had the self-same mad gleam of accusation in its eyes some forty years later. Step forward “The Backmasking Caper” (with Judas Priest et al) and The State versus the Dead Kennedys’ Jello Biafra for using H.R. Giger’s ‘Penis Landscape’ as an LP insert. Are you enjoying the deja view?

Anyway, back to the music… also included is the ‘Emperor of the If’ compilation CD which dips into the cassettes that accompanied the original ’zines. Unreleased Fursäxa, Magnog, Joy Poppers are featured, as are a couple of blasts from Steve’s altered-ego ‘Plastic Crimewave’; caught leading Utopia Carcrash and the earlier, lesser known Moleculad. Just like the previous issue that I had the pleasure of, this is a feast. (Steve Pescott)

KINSKI - DON’T CLIMB ON AND TAKE THE HOLY WATER

(CD on Strange Attractors Audio House, PO Box 13007, Portland, OR 97213-0007, USA)

  Werner Herzog’s film My Best Fiend details his tumultuous collaborations with Klaus Kinski in a series of archival footage and first person narrations from the director. It’s evident that a big part of their creative success came from the innate differences in their personalities. Kinski, the wild-eyed madman who could beef up a manslaughter charge in the blink of an eye, and Herzog, the sad-eyed meditative naturalist, were constantly at odds with one another during productions, yet that strife bred some truly compelling journeys through the mind and soul. The best image of this disparate union comes late in the film when Herzog settles on a medium close-up of a grinning Kinski, finger extended towards a butterfly which skitters and dances on his appendage as if some natural gravity held it there.   

            Kinski, the Seattle band and Terrascopic mainstay, evinces a similar mastery of the chaotic and serene in union. As heard on massive studio albums, Airs Above Your Station and Be Gentle with the Warm Turtle, the quartet harnesses massive chunks of distorted guitar crunch that easily echoes the epic qualities of titles like “New India” and “Space Launch for Frenchie,” but along with the controlled bludgeon comes a quieter, meditative side that surfaces in dreamy drone segues, as well in the fuzzy minimal meditations of guitarist Chris Martin’s Ampbuzz side project, and during local live improv performances by the band under the name Herzog. Climb on and Take the Holy Water chronicles these live performances with four short tracks of improvised drone and clang and one extended (30 min.) space probe to the deepest regions of space.

            People expecting build-up noise rock crescendos might want to look to albums mentioned elsewhere in this review, but those who enjoy getting lost in a sea of headphone induced feedback undulation and mellow organic glissando will find themselves right at home in these expansive waters. Centrepiece “The Misprint in the Gutenberg Print Shop” especially offers the transportive goods with a mélange of shimmering drones and squiggles spread out beneath a bed of electric guitar trills and indiscernible hums, invoking the wandering space minstrels of friends Acid Mothers Temple at their mellow best, but it’s all rendered in a cleaner post ambient Eno wash here. The last three tracks cover more spiky terrain, from the Main like guitar clicks and flutters of “Crepes the Cheap” to the Flying Saucer Attack worthy mechanical fuzz squalls of “Bulky Knit Cheerleader Sweater,” which are just as effectively mind cleansing in their more abbreviated states. This aural butterfly makes for a fine edition to the more typical bombast of Kinski’s musical corpus, not to mention a highly recommendable platter for discerning fans of guitar based ambient improv. (Lee Jackson)

THE SKYGREEN LEOPARDS – ONE THOUSAND BIRD CEREMONY

(CD from Soft Abuse, PO Box 2771, Tallahassee FL 32316-2771 USA)

I have already used so many superlatives when describing the San Francisco-based psychedelia/folk/drone/improv collective Jewelled Antler that it feels like I am beginning to repeat myself. So maybe it’s not so strange that I am tempted to start this review with a few words from a Jewelled Antler article I wrote last year. "Picture yourself in a true wilderness area, with a steep, almost imperceptible track leading through vast, red barked pine forest down to a hidden beach with waterfalls, which crash into the valley from cliffs a hundred meters up. It’s not an easy vista to find but once there you’re likely to find yourself just staring at the landscape around you for the rest of the day. If forced to point out a particular location where the spirit of Jewelled Antler resides this got to be the one." The second album from the Skygreen Leopards (including Glenn Donaldson of Thuja, Mirza, The Birdtree, The Blithe Sons and many others as well as Donovan Quinn of Verdure) is no exception of this although I guess you could describe it as the aural backdrop of the trip back home to San Francisco. That being said, One Thousand Bird Ceremony includes plenty of field recordings from pastoral meadows and windswept trees but also invokes something a whole lot more urban. There’s some sort of secret track between hope and sadness presented here which speaking of own experience is unavoidable to tread for anyone living for quite some time in a big city. The positive aspects are presented in the form of lovely psych-folk-pop nuggets and collages that due to its stumbling and somewhat fractured nature recalls the loosest work of the Elephant 6 collective. The more reflective side of things comes through the brilliant lyrics and the vocals that have me thinking of Richard Youngs at his very best. The instrumentation is incredibly rich and maybe it’s the ample use of instruments such as dulcimer, banjo, bouzouki, organs, tambourines, mandolin, and whistles which helps create a somewhat mythological feel or perhaps it’s titles such as "All Our Plagues Were Rainbows" and "Let Me Grow In Your Meadow". In our never-ending campaign for bringing heartfelt and honest music to the masses, I'm happy and honoured to celebrate the arrival of One Thousand Bird Ceremony, possibly the most accessible, but still hallucinogenic and somewhat challenging, work from the Jewelled Antler collective to date. (Mats Gustafsson)

KITCHEN CYNICS - PARALLEL DOG DAYS

(CD on Secret Eye PO Box 170 Barrington, RI 02806 USA)

KITCHEN CYNICS - COMPULSIVE SONGWRITING DISORDER

(CDR on Freaks End Future, Willem Linnigstraat 10, B-2060 Antwerp, Belgium, Eu)

    You could never accuse Aberdeen, Scotland’s Alan Davidson of sleeping at the wheel. Yawning, perhaps—cocking his head sideways, maybe—but the lad is ever vigilant in negotiating the detritus of failed love affairs and faded memories with the enchanted aural confections he performs as the Kitchen Cynics. I first heard the ‘Cynics do a version of Tom Rapp’s “Stardancer” on the first For the Dead in Space tribute album years ago now, and was instantly, effortlessly transported to another world. Davidson’s reserved, literate Scottish accent perfectly captures the ethereality of Rapp’s haunting original, with subtle use of fuzz and effects beneath delicate fingerpicking, serving as the perfect aural springboard to your favourite secret garden. Needless to say, it made an indelible impression. Ever since I’d approached the music of the ‘Cynics with a curious awe, something whispered about and asked for in dusty record shops to no avail, before I finally tracked Davidson down via email and arranged a fruitful transaction.  

            Sporting one of the more memorable titles in the recent history, Parallel Dog Days is one of two new Kitchen Cynics’ releases making the rounds, this time courtesy of the same people responsible for the Tom Rapp tribute albums, For the Dead in Space Vol.’s 1-3, Secret Eye (formerly Magic Eye)—all highly recommended for the discriminating psych folk fan. Parallel is the first ‘Cynics album to be released on American shores to date, but let’s hope not the last (the excellent singles comp Seasonings is screaming for a larger pressing as I type). In Davidson’s own words, the album title refers to his earlier, wilder days: “I used to frequent a local pub where a guy would always bring in his dog, and, instead of standing at right-angles to the bar, it stood parallel, often causing the regulars to fall over it when they stepped backwards. I admired its refusal to change its ways!” There isn’t a better metaphor for the poignant determination that marks this recorded legacy.

            For the uninitiated, this is the perfect way into Davidson’s sleepy folk dream world. Melodic acoustic guitars sketch vivid images with delicate brush strokes, creating a bevel for nostalgic recollections of youthful indiscretions and drunken date-swappings. Each of these twenty songs offers an assured, slightly post punk/lo-fi version of folk pop with bits of cheap synthesizer, muffled percussion and cortex-tickling distortion fleshing out the typically austere approach. But ultimately it’s that hushed delivery and a credible, often hilarious, insider’s perspective on the ins and outs of these characters that makes this such a worthy treat. The hypnotic longing and slighted jealousy of “The Place You Hid,” the medieval recollections of “At Villa E.107 (Eileen Gray Reflects),” the Nick Drake by way of Donovan memories of “North of Balmedie, West of the Waves” and the serene folk bliss of “Tune for Tom Rapp”—a simple gesture of goodwill to one cult legend from another—are waiting to be heard late at night, a glass of cheap red wine in one hand, a dear friend nestled tightly in the other.

            The aptly titled Compulsive Songwriting Disorder offers more of the same in terms of quality songwriting, but as its title suggests, this is a bit darker collection. Tracks like the spartan opener “The Tartan Shawl” and the spectral “Great-Uncle Jack’s Deathbed Dance” paint forlorn melodic swathes in a dark, overcast sky. The tender interpretation of Bridget St. John’s “Ask Me No Questions” is a sweet kiss goodnight, before the more caustic “Murph’s Song” explores nooks and crannies of melancholic longing to hypnotic effect with its haunting refrain, “we’ve come together, but we’re all alone.” Other track highlights: the sinister discontent of “Waiting for Your Mail,” the slow burning fuzz wash of “Lethargic Lover,” the extended sound dream of “Dialogue” (featuring a lovely harmony vocal from Cara Lewis) and “In Dunottar Woods,” with music that sounds like it’s emanating from a very old phonograph, fitting for this sort of moody folk pop impressionism. See www.secreteye.org/se and www.freaksendfuture.com for more information. (Lee Jackson)

SCATTER - SURPRISING SING STUPENDOUS LOVE

(CD on Pickled Egg)

    Glasgow band Scatter’s debut album, Surprising Sing Stupendous Love on Pickled Egg, is a genre-defying aural document that bounces back and forth from idea to idea, from jazz and folk to rock and electronic sound manipulation. Colourful brass instrumentation, gently damaged free form folk, muffled clusters of soundscapes, visceral ceremonies of strangely seducing strings, mauling tribal frenzy and some pretty groovy rhythms make up a record, which is packed with emotion, joy, intimacy and sheer brilliance. It’s difficult to explain exactly what it is that makes the album such an essential item but I guess you could say that it’s because it’s really carving its own little position in the music heavens. The album is shooting for a feel that does recall Bablicon at their most structured but at the same time there’s also a loose folk jam feel in the spirit of Vibracathedral Orchestra. The latter doesn’t really come as a surprise as Scatter is an ensemble which includes people who have performed with the ‘Orchestra. Just like the cousins from Leeds, Scatter seems determined to present a chaplet of different tones and colors rather than actual songs. But don’t get me wrong, we’re not only served a beautiful maze of improvisation that you continuously will get lost in but also melodies which you can hang on to. The impressive attention for details and the sensitive interaction between all the players gives the album a strong dialogic feel, a “call and response” approach which gives the whole thing a wonderful flow. There’s no point in putting a genre tag on this uncategorizable and highly hallucinogenic sonic stew, but that doesn’t stop it from being every bit as rewarding as it is challenging. Those up to the challenge won’t be disappointed. (Mats Gustafsson)

SHARON TANDY – YOU’VE GOTTA BELIEVE IT’S…

(CD on Big Beat c/o Ace Records, 42-50 Steele Road, London NW10 7AS)

    I’m going to assume that most Terrascope readers are aware of the lissom, soulful blues singer Sharon Tandy not through her 1966 Stax recording sessions with Isaac Hayes and various soul legends of the day, or indeed with her entirely separate recording career in her native South Africa, but rather for her time in swingin’ London – and in particular for that near-legendary 1968 45 backed by the Fleur de Lys on Atlantic Records, ‘Hold On’ c/w ‘Daughter of the Sun’.

  Two former members of the Fleur de Lys have been interviewed in past Terrascopes (Pete Sears and Gordon Haskell) but their story remains so complex – arguably one of the most difficult of all 60s groups to unravel – that it’s probably easiest to sit yourself down with a copy of the Fleur de Lys CD compilation ‘Reflections’ (FDL1005) before beginning to assimilate the material here. For a start, singles featuring the post-1966 Fleur de Lys were released under a number of different monikers - Chocolate Frog, Shyster and Rupert’s People – in addition to their backing singers such as Waygood Ellis, Donnie Elbert, John Bromley, and Sharon Tandy.

  Sharon Tandy was the South African former wife of producer Frank Fenter who had caused something of a sensation when, at the age of 20, she filled in for Carla Thomas on a Stax Records package tour. Fleur de Lys at the time (late 1966) had just lost two key members (Pete Sears, who joined Sam Gopal and then disappeared off to the States to join Stoneground, Silver Metre, Copperhead and subsequently the Jefferson Starship; and Phil Sawyer who joined the Spencer Davis Group) and had stripped down to a trio consisting of bassist Gordon Haskell and singer Chris Andrews, joined by Chris’ flatmate, guitarist Bryn Haworth. Fenter was looking for a group to back his energetic protégée on her studio and live work, and the Fleur de Lys were the ideal session group for the job – in addition to backing Sharon Tandy, they also toured Holland with Aretha Franklin, recorded an album with Barney Kessel and backed Isaac Hayes.

  And so to the collection to hand. In addition to seven songs from the 1966 Stax sessions and some 1965-’66 singles for Pye with orchestrated arrangements, ‘You’ve Gotta Believe It’s…Sharon Tandy’ features virtually all the UK singles up to 1969 on which she was backed by the Fleur de Lys, including amongst others the flagship ‘Hold On’ with its full minute of awesome distorted guitar work from Bryn Haworth; its flipside ‘Daughter of the Sun’ on which Tandy is in full-blown psychedelic priestess mode in the style of Julie Driscoll (as opposed to her usual Christine Perfect-esque blues wailin’); ‘Look and Find’ (the flipside to ‘Love makes the World Go Round’, which sadly isn’t included here) with gorgeous melodic bass lines from Gordon Haskell; ‘Gotta Get Enough Time’ – the final single Sharon recorded for Atlantic, and one featuring some fine wah-wah guitar footwork from Haworth – and ‘Our Day Will Come’ which bears witness to a late-night jam session the Fleur de Lys had enjoyed with the Vanilla Fudge at Spot Studios in December 1967 shortly after appearing on John Peel’s ‘Top Gear’ together. Sadly, none of the Sharon Tandy / Fleur de Lys recordings from Top Gear (‘Always Something There to Remind Me’, another ‘Our Day Will Come’ and an alternate version of ‘Hold On’) appear here.

Never mind though; along with the three songs the Lys performed solo on ‘Top Gear’ and the unreleased album for Polygram they recorded early in 1968 (from which only ‘Gong with the Luminous Nose’ has ever surfaced) there’s enough material out there still for a third album. Meanwhile, this collection will do very nicely indeed thank you; and has the added benefit of featuring the lovely Ms Tandy on the cover too! (Phil)

GHOST - HYPNOTIC UNDERWORLD

(CD on Drag City, P. O. Box 476867, Chicago, IL 60647, USA)

A lengthy, nebulous opening, combining Junzo Tateiwa's percussive effects, bells, and chimes, Masaki Batoh's hurdy gurdy, dodgy synth (longtime member Kazuo Ogino's Korg MS-20) and Taishi "Giant" Takizawa's whining Theremin, welcomes the listener to ‘God Took a Picture of His Illness on this Ground,’ part one of the four-part title track of Ghost's seventh album, and the first since their collaboration with Damon & Naomi four years ago. The track sonically resembles the meandering, somnambulistic brainscrapes of Atman and their more recent offshoot, The Magic Carpathians. On Part Two (‘Escaped and Lost Down in Medina’) Takizawa's Middle Eastern-flavoured sax work is reminiscent of Peter Vandergelder's lengthy solo opening The Great Society's seminal live version of ‘White Rabbit.’ The constantly escalating maelstrom of psychedelia rides Ogino's little marching piano riff to a crescendo rivalling fellow Japanese psychmeisters, Acid Mothers Temple. Part three, ‘Aramaic Barbarous Dawn’ is a short burst of metallic energy, somewhat akin to getting slapped up-side the head with a razor-encrusted nunchaku. It may be the band’s most brutal recording yet.

 Guitar god Michio Kurihara drags ‘Hazy Paradise’ across the heavens on the gossamer wings of vocalist Masaki Batoh's angelic cooing. Bubbling brooks, Batoh’s whispered storytelling and Ogino’s pied piper recorder and lute combine to make ‘Kiseichukan Nite’ an unintelligible yet lovely listening experience.

‘Ganagmanang’ and ‘Feed’ rival Mushroom’s current magnum opus for the year’s grooviest, most 60s-flavoured psychedelic jams - I can almost taste the patchouli wafting across the fields at Glastonbury. Wandering, opaque, oblivious and magnificent - these are some of their finest recordings in years, and perfectly complement the playful, whirling dervish, gypsy vibe of ‘Holy High’, a gnarly remake of an old B-side and a fulfillingly fitting finale to this elaborate smorgasbord of sounds, techniques and multi-genred offerings. All in all, an earthier, woodsier, more environmental direction for Ghost, and a sound I hope they continue to explore on future recordings. (Jeff Penczak)

MARBLE SHEEP -- FOR DEMOLITION OF A SPIRITUAL FRAMEWORK

(CD on Fünfundvierzig Records, Schmiedetwiete 6, 23898 Labenz, Germany)

THE STARS – WILL

(CD on Pedal Records, www1.odn.ne.jp/pedalrecords/)

    It seems like samurai guitar god Ken Matsutani has been out in the cold for so long that his seminal place in the dreaming of Japan into a powerhouse of 21^st Century psychedelic rock has been lost. Founded in 1987, and originally counting fellow freak-out epicentre Michio Kurihara as a member, the ’Sheep issued a formidable series of releases stretching from their self-titled debut on Alchemy Records in 1990 to the pan-galactic sprawl of ‘Swirl Live’ in 1994 before pissing it all away on a series of lesser releases from the mid-1990s on. That is until now. ‘For Demolition Of A Spiritual Framework’ is a bold Pollock canvas of a record, dizzyingly drooling streams of retarded garage psych, strutting stadium metal, and higher-minded progressive rock over ones psyche in messy intersecting lines. Opener ‘Old Fish’ starts in a Japanese water garden before blowing like Krakatoa and blotting out the sun with the ash from its corrosive guitar explosions. ‘Fla Fla Heaven’ is a big, stupid, hilarious anthem with a distinct Rocket From the Tombs art punk vibe with the emphasis on punk, and in a distinctly Japanese move has been issued as a single as well. Using fuzz-drenched garage rock as a launching pad on ‘The Drop’, Matsutani and band get totally gone in a way that emphasises that this band was a necessary precondition for the existence of Acid Mothers Temple. ‘The Night of the Shooting Star’ emphasises one of the bands limitations - Matsutani’s vocals are not really compelling enough to carry a ballad - but it’s only an inhalation of breath before the band get to the heart of the matter with a slab of progressive heaven on the album’s centrepiece ‘Rain’. ‘Matsutani’s guitar work on ‘Rain’ is floridly excessive and absolutely wonderful in its evocation of the fog of war, clearing for a moment of folk clarity and single verse at around the 7:30 mark before an exquisitely melodic guitar coda. ‘Perfect Island’ is its complete opposite – a narcotic float on warm Pacific waters that gets away with some Spinal Tap-eque lyrics because you can’t really make them out anyway. ‘Just Going Around in Circles’ does just that, returning to a Zen garden of abstract forms to close out the proceedings in swirling drones and wind-teased chimes. Now all we need is a new White Heaven album… (Tony Dale)

  ….And right on cue comes the new LP-length CD from Stars, featuring White Heaven’s singer/songwriter You Ishihara and guitarist sans pareil Michio Kurihara. It’s probably no coincidence that ‘Small White Wonder’ is the most White Heavenly cut of the six tracks featured, with a driving psychedelic beat that explodes into a fiery, livid burst of molten guitar; ‘Last Door’ also features echoes of the later, more melodic days of that band with some entertaining lyrical imagery from You Ishihara and, inevitably, some toe-curling interplay between himself and Kurihara. The closing six-minutes plus of ‘Orange Hour Circle’ is an interesting progression for the band though, with haunting synthesiser (played by Kurihara) underpinning a beat which together somehow conjure up panoramic visions of a classic American made-for-TV detective movie. Though I could be way off the mark there; it wouldn’t be the first time. Either way this is a fabulous little collection that only serves to leave you longing for more. (Phil

VARIOUS ARTISTS – FOR THE DEAD IN SPACE VOLUMES II & III

(2CD on Secret Eye)

Beginning with the angelic, crystalline voice of Marissa Nadler (somewhat reminiscent of Naomi Yang of Damon and Naomi, and with an excellent new album out in her own right ‘Ballads of Living and Dying’ on Ed Hardy’s superb Eclipse Records imprint), ‘Ballad To An Amber Lady’ gets this collection off to a beautiful start. The Olivetree (aka Glenn Donaldson) gives us ‘Blind River’ while Isobel Sollenberg and the Gibbons brothers bury ‘Uncle John’ in an unnerving onslaught of psychedelic Pond-sludge. Three Scandinavian instrumentals: Norway’s Aquarium Poppers, (featuring Dipsomaniac Øyvind Holm assisting his brother, Thor Jorgen) give us a loopy, sound effects-laden version of ‘From the Movie of the Same Name,’ Noxagt’s metallic Goth version of ‘Regions of May’ and Finnish avant noisemongers Kamialliset Ystävät interpret ‘Guardian Angels’ (presented in their native tongue as "Suojelusenkeli"). The fourth contribution from our friends up north (and first in over four years) is from Sweden's Cauldron - the side-project of Holy River Family Band's Jens Unosson and Arne Jonasson, a pleasant, straightforward reading of ‘Man In The Tree,’ but sung in two different keys at two different pitches. Arne's guitar solo at the end, however, demonstrates beyond all shadow of a doubt why he is just about the greatest guitarist that no one's ever heard of. The prolific Erik Wivinus (Skye Klad, Salamander, Barlow/Peterson/Wivinus) returns to his Gentle Tasaday project with partner Eric Hefferber for the haunting, dirgy ‘Snow Queen.’ Acid Mothers Temple guru Kawabata Makoto brings his fx pedals and David Bowie-meets-Nick-Cave vocals to the recording studio and births ‘When I Was A Child.’

Prydwyn is one of the few artists on here who have actually recorded with Rapp (though several have appeared on stage with him at various Terrastock festivals), appearing on several tracks on his ‘Journal of the Plague Year’ comeback on Woronzow a few years ago, and his all-too-short, straightforward interpretation of ‘Prayers of Action’ is one of the disc’s highlights. Black Forest/Black Sea is the duo featuring former Science Kit/Iditarod member, Jeffrey Alexander. As former head of Magic Eye Singles and current stringpuller at Secret Eye, Jeffrey is responsible for all three wonderful Tom Rapp tribute disks, and his beautifully romantic collaboration with Miriam Goldberg on ‘Wizard of Is’ is a welcome addition to his discography. From Scotland, Alan Davidson and his Kitchen Cynics give us ‘Les Ans’ in the original tongue, a fine, folky, fuzzy figment of music that sounds like Jacques Brel fronting the Incredible String Band.

Tom’s son David kicks off ‘Volume III’ with a bubbly, toe-tapping winner, turning ‘Frog In The Window’ into a power pop shoutalong. He even recites the infamous “Miss Morse” code at the fade! Monster Island turn in a vitriolic recitation of ‘Riegal,’ with a funky backing that recalls Dutch hippies, The Fool. New Zealander Alastair Galbraith takes a break from his "wiremusic" projects for the tender, all-too-brief ‘Everybody's Got Pain.’ Prydwyn's third appearance (this time accompanying Timothy Renner in Stone Breath) graces ‘Ring Thing,’ which emulates the ending of the Pearls Before Swine ‘Balaklava’ album by rewinding the entire track.

  Finally, completists will need this tribute for the previously unissued ‘Balaklava’ outtake of ‘Translucent Carriages’ by Rapp and Pearls partner Wayne Harley (the other performers are unidentified). The performance and orchestral arrangement is clearer and more powerful than the original, and is a fitting conclusion to another worthy re-examination of the work of one of our finest (and most underrated) folk singers. (Jeff Penczak)

TOM RAPP – FAMILIAR SONGS

(CD from Water Records, PO Box 2947 San Francisco CA 94126 USA)

Nonchalantly flicking through albums in a New York store in 1972, our man in question was more than just a little surprised to see his own owlish features smiling back at him from an unfamiliar LP sleeve. The ironically titled ‘Familiar Songs’ was, in essence, a series of sessions that reworked material from Tom Rapp’s four previous albums for Reprise. They’d been shelved by the band as an unsuccessful experiment, some of them still only featuring trial vocals. An “evil manager figure” however thought otherwise: he sold the tapes to Reprise and scarpered with the cash – a salutary tale for artists who believe their every last utterance is safely under lock and key.

‘Familiar Songs’ was omitted from the ‘Jewels Were The Stars’ boxed set reviewed last issue, and it’s not really that hard to see why. The glimpses of a crystal city that the four previous discs afforded is now obscured by a haze of wholemeal, relaxed songwriterly values, now more at home in a plaid work shirt than the silks and satins of old. So – a curate’s egg or a swine after pearls? Well it still gives me a severe case of the crossed-wire syndrome. As mentioned earlier, Tom had no say in its original release – but he could presumably have vetoed this reissue if he was that embarrassed by it. As his own sleeve notes ask, “See the Wheat, forgive the Chaff” – although it’s a very difficult task to forgive ‘Charley and the Lady’, every bit as uninspiring as it’s a.o.r. title would suggest. ‘Sail Away’ (originally on ‘These Things Too’) promises good times ahead, but when the usually excellent guitarist David Wolfert’s solo crashes in it’s like someone is using a Howitzer to clear a blocked drain. ‘Margery’, ‘Rocket Man’ and ‘The Jeweler’ (to be found on the rightly lionized ‘Use of Ashes’) simply can’t hope to approach the majesty of the originals. There’s some vital tonal colours missing and they all seem a mite too self-satisfied.

It isn’t all bad news however, as ‘Snow Queen’ still retains its sense of delicacy and wonder. The piano work of Robbie Merkins is also well worth noting, bringing to mind Richard (DNV) Sohl for some reason I can’t quite fathom. So, closer to utilitarian than beautiful, but nevertheless still worth a look. Investigate the boxed set instead, or if funds are limited ‘Ashes’ alone will set you on the right path. (Steve Pescott)

PEARLS BEFORE SWINE - THE WIZARD OF ID

(CD on Water Music, c/o Runt Distribution, PO Box 2947, San Francisco, CA 94126 USA)

    Hot on the heels of the 4xCD box set of PBS's Reprise albums, ‘Jewels Were The Stars’, Water continues their incredible reissue series with this 2xCD retrospective of exclusive live performances and demos from 1967-1976 remastered from Tom Rapp’s private tape collection. Fans of his 1999 Woronzow comeback, ‘A Journal of The Plague Year’ will recognise the opening ‘Where Is Love’, included there as part of the ‘Shoebox Symphony’ and heard here in its original "shoebox" demo version, minus Nick Saloman’s lengthy, yet memorable organ intro. The home demo for ‘Butterflies’ features just Tom and his guitar, minus the electric accompaniment from the final product on ‘Beautiful Lies You Could Live In’ and sounds sadder and more reflective. Rapp was always an underrated interpreter who frequently covered the work of Leonard Cohen, Judy Collins, Joni Mitchell and Jacques Brel and the six-minute demo of the latter’s ‘Love You’re Not Alone’ is one of many revelations contained herein. Recorded with ‘The Use of Ashes’ musicians, perhaps the song was too long for inclusion, although the same line-up would later competently cover Brel's ‘Seasons in the Sun’ on ‘City of Gold’ (a full three years before Terry Jacks sold a billion copies and took his version to #1). Rapp’s playful version of Randy Newman’s ‘Sail Away’ (not the same song on ‘These Things Too’) on Martin D-18S and vicious glass slide is another find, revealing the humorous side of PBS that was often lost on the more sombre final releases.

  David Bromberg plays on the demos for ‘City of Gold’, ‘Song About A Rose’ and ‘Mary Mary’. The former is less frantic than the final version, where Bromberg’s sweet picking and slide work was replaced with hyperactive violin, although it does retain it's Dylanesque Nashville sound, while ‘Song About A Rose’ is heard without its distinctive flute accompaniment. And ‘Mary Mary’ is surely the filthiest song Rapp ever wrote (including the thinly veiled ‘Miss Morse’), with its commercial suicide chorus of “She turns penises into gold.” No wonder the label balked at that one!

  The original demo of ‘Rocket Man’ is another revelation, recorded here with Elizabeth in their apartment in Utrecht, complete with its original lyrics. And never has the recording process been so elegantly captured than on the original spontaneous recording of ‘Riegal’, heard here as Rapp is composing it directly into a tape recorder in his home in Vreeland. Tom sounds amazingly like Leonard Cohen here, and listen for the segment where he subconsciously drifts into the melody from ‘Gilligan's Island!’

  Disk Two contains a complete 1972 concert from Goddard College in Vermont. The intimacy of the small room is the perfect setting for PBS (at times you can hear a dog that was wandering around chiming in on the choruses!) Highlights include Art Ellis’s lilting flute work on ‘Island Lady’ (the lyrical source for the ‘Beautiful Lies’ album title) and dual recorder performance on ‘Morning’, and ‘Translucent Carriages’ (listen as Tom reveals the truth behind lyrics that have remained hidden for nearly 35 years!). As anyone who's seen Rapp at any of his Terrastock performances can attest, he can be both funny and informative in describing the gestation of his songs. Therefore, the decision to excise the between-song stage banter (ostensibly to include additional Dutch radio sessions from 1971) is disappointing, yet understandable. Hopefully, some of the forthcoming "complete concerts" will rectify this minor quibble. A pleasant surprise, however, is the inclusion of Rapp's rap on "Lessons from the 60's," culled from the end of his Terrastock III performance in London in 1999, the latest excerpt on the collection. (Ed: good to see there’s a name-check in the liner-notes for the late Jim Hayes, a PT reader and Tom Rapp fan who died a couple of months after finally seeing his hero perform at Terrastock London in 1999)

With the PBS/Tom Rapp revival in full swing (at least two more full archival concerts are planned, as well as the remastered reissues of the original albums), one can’t help but applaud Water's marvellous efforts at unearthing these buried treasures and eagerly await future instalments. (Jeff Penczak)

MY EDUCATION - 5 POPES

(CD from Brian Purington, 7005 Daugherty, Austin TX 78757 USA)

MOUNTAIN MEN ANONYMOUS – MOUNTAIN MEN ANONYMOUS

(CD from www.mountainmenanonymous.com)

Like a long-lost cousin you’d heard of but never actually met, My Education came tapping on my door one day and stole my heart. Based in Austin, Texas and formed as long ago as 1999 by various musicians quoting Stars of the Lid and Ultrasound on their CVs, their instrumental debut album ‘5 Popes’ was eventually self-released in March ’02 and only landed on my desk a couple of months ago courtesy of a fortunate happenstance involving Jeffrey Alexander of Black Forest/Black Sea, a lengthy story I won’t go into here. Suffice it to say that as soon as I heard them I knew at once here was a band which would fit any imagined Terrastock bill like a glove, on Stage 2 right after Tarentel perhaps, or filling the virtual space left on Stage 1 by a Godspeed You Black Emporer! who failed to turn up or a Mogwai who demanded an extortionate performance fee. Which isn’t to say My Education owe a bean to any one of those groups in terms of either inspiration or formula – they don’t – but what they are doing is surfing those same rolling waves of sonic cacophony, and performing breathtaking new tricks while they’re about it.

What My Education do best is to balance the darkness and shade, cross-hatching the quieter moments of their aural graphical landscapes with intricate strings and gentle piano and then splattering huge globs of distorted guitar noise across the canvas by way of a contrast – on ‘Lesson 3’ for example the sparse yet crisp piano notes form the perfect backdrop to the chiming guitars, and you find yourself clinging to them like a life raft on a storm-tossed sea of guitars as the song builds to a crescendo. The same stylistic approach is applied even more successfully to ‘Deep Cut’, while on the album’s nine-minute closer ‘Crime Story’ the urgency of the caterwauling guitars and violins lead towards, rather than away from, a graceful piano-led denouement.

I’ve seen this LP length album being described as an EP elsewhere which is, I think, a sign of a the times rather than a criticism of the fact that the five tracks don’t fill up the entire seventy something minutes of the CD. It sounds pretty damn near perfect to me.

Mountain Men Anonymous likewise came recommended by a Terrastock veteran, this time Caroline Ross from delicate AWOL who guests on their new album Krkonose (on the My Kung Fu label, whose promotional budget unfortunately doesn’t stretch to obscure English fanzines unfortunately; luckily the band themselves took the trouble to send us their debut to see what we thought.) Likewise formed in 1999, and once again exploring similar territory to Godspeed You Black Emporer!, there the similarity ends for Mountain Men Anonymous hail not from Texas or even the Rockies: they’re from Cardiff by way of Gloucestershire, a place they claim to be “the shitest place in the world – culturally dead” (they obviously never stumbled across the Land of Nod and the Ochre Records scene while they were there!) And unlike My Education the band also dispense with strings, piano and other pseudo-classical instrumental niceties, preferring instead to concentrate on blurring the edges of their guitar-led cacophony rather splendidly with an array of effects pedals. The results are at once hauntingly beautiful and spine-tinglingly loud, like being strapped to a jet engine as it careers towards the Earth. Awesome. (Phil)

CURRITUCK CO. - GHOST MAN ON FIRST

VERDURE -- CROSS & SATELLITE STATION

(CDs on Lexicon Devil Records, P.O. Box 125, Richmond VIC 3121, Australia)

    Currituck Co. is actually one man, Mr. Kevin W. Barker, currently resident in New York City. You may have come across the fruits of his time as part of the Washington DC underground rock scene, including a 2002 CD on the Teenbeat imprint called ‘Unpacking My Library’, but ‘Ghost Man on First’ is another barrel of banjos entirely. If, like the title suggested, ‘Unpacking My Library’ was the work of an guitarist and songwriter working through his influences to reach accommodation with the demons of eclecticism, ‘Ghost Man on First’ finds Barker at the point of putting those demons to rest before moving on. Non-specific folk and country influences have been replaced with very specific roots in the 60s catalogues of Topic, Folkways and Takoma Records, and in the work of Robbie Basho, John Fahey and Bert Jansch. Barker’s archive mining bears fruit in the banjo and vocal interplay of the traditional ‘I Truly Understand’, in a meritorious version of Jansch’s ‘Silly Woman’ and in a startling rework of Nina Simone’s take on ‘Black Is the Colour of My True Love’s Hair’ into the shape of a ‘A Raga Called Nina’. Alongside these, Barker’s originals hold up well. A ‘Requiem for John Fahey’ finger-picks a shimmering dance up and down your spinal column, ‘A Raga Called Pat Cohn’ conjures a dream-time of meditational harmonics from the dancing ghosts of acoustic guitar, tabla harmonium and vague whisperings and never loses direction once during its 10 minute span, and ‘March of the People Who Do Not Know You’ is a wrenching red-shift back to reality with and acid bath of angry, gesticulating guitar chaos that Haino or Kawabata would be proud of. This release is sententiously sub-titled “part one of a three part lecture series curated by Curritick County” which if nothing else makes me want to stick around to see if such hubris is sustainable. ‘Ghost Man on First’ suggests it just might be.

It’s been reviewed in this magazine several times already in its CD-R incarnation, but now Verdure’s first offering ‘Cross & Satellite Station’ is officially released by Australian label Lexicon Devil, fans of Donovan Quinn’s misty Californian back-porch mysticism can upgrade to a production CD version should they so desire. There is some rearranging of tracks, a cleaner sound and new art, but in essence it remains the startling artefact it was two years ago. One minute into the opening track ‘Crystal Glass’ and it’s like you’ve witnessed the seeds of greatness being sown. With prodigious confidence, Quinn messes with the rail points and piles a train called Bob Dylan into a train called Tom Rapp, picks up the pieces and wet-wires them into his own hyper-active synapses to populate the landscape with freshly raised ghosts. If you don’t know by know that this thing is essential I guess we’re going to have to review it a fourth time. Please don’t make us do that. (Tony Dale)

THE UNINTENDED – S/T

(CD on Sonic Unyon, PO Box 57347, Jackson Station, Hamilton, ON, Canada, L8P 4X2)

     Journey with me across marmalade skies and the mountains of madness in the company of The Unintended whose self-titled debut is a kaleidoscope of psych-pop sounds and mystical lyrics which will leave holes in your head and a grin all over your face. Opening track ‘The Collapse’ sets out their stall with the finest guitar riff the 13th Floor Elevators never wrote, whilst ‘A quiet getaway’ is a heady mixture of the Feelies meeting early Floyd on a faraway star.

  Featuring members of The Sadies and Elevator, Elevator to Hell plus Canadian rock-star Greg Keelor, the whole album displays mature song-writing, great playing, an arsenal of special effects and, above all, a sheer sense of enjoyment. The fact that the album was recorded and mixed in only six days adds to the spontaneous feel of the music. Every song is a winner but ‘No curse of time’ stands out with it’s gorgeous psychedelic feel and otherworldly lyrics. A west-coast country feel is evident in ‘Angel’ whilst closing song ‘Beautiful things’ will haunt you long after the album has drifted away.

In a perfect world, of course, such albums would be played and enjoyed all over the world. As it is you should try your hardest to find a copy of this excellent CD before it disappears into the mists of time, only to reappear in thirty years time as a lost classic. Dust off those lava lamps, it’s time to take a trip! (Simon Lewis)

ESPERS – S/T

(CD on Locust Music, PO 220126, Chicago IL 60622)

    Terrascope favourite Greg Weeks (here on vocals, electric guitar, keyboards, autoharp and much more besides) is joined by Meg Baird (vocal, more guitars, dulcimer) and Brooke Sietinsons (acoustic guitar, percussion) as well as assorted friends on chamber instruments under the banner of Espers. Familiarity with Greg’s previous work will go some way to preparing you for what has been achieved here, but this tour through the essence of late 60s UK psychedelic folk and chamber balladry is so finely wrought it would probably knock Joe Boyd himself down a rabbit hole of memory back to the mixing desk at Sound Techniques in 1969. Across a hippie singer-songwriter nave with pews for Nick Drake, John Martyn, Bridget St. John and Vashti Bunyan, the members of Espers lay a transept full of psychedelic scaffolding to bring their compositions to vaulting life. Espers lay waste to a host of pretenders from the opening notes of ‘Flowery Noontide’. It’s not like they probably even mean to – their excellence seems structurally innate. Bells usher in Meg Baird’s beautiful vocals like a call to prayer and they levitate in a glittering cavern of instrumental bliss so real you can walk around inside it and touch the gemstones. The false premise that new psychedelic folk music has substitute a fidelity-challenged, druggy vibe for songwriting and musicianship is shattered forever by the moment of clarity that this track represents. Composing oneself and moving on, the second track, ‘Meadow’, is one of the finest songs this listener has heard in many a year. An ancient script illuminated by cello and viola, it shines down like the last ray of sun a death row inmate will ever feel on his face. Greg’s Nick Drake itch gets scratched on the track ‘Riding Voices’, but the piercing acid lead guitar recalls the wondrous obscurity of the Fresh Maggots LP. The scents of old religion infuse the lyrical ‘Hearts and Daggers’ and ‘Byss and Abyss’, which have the aspect of pagan ritual about them. Silent deities are invokes for quiet worship, and the sacred feminine placed rightly front-and-centre. The latter track dissolves into cosmic free rock, clearly establishing that the membership of Espers has an ear on the hear-and-now of the American and Japanese rock underground as well as the dreaming past. The final tracks ‘Daughter’ and ‘Travel Mountains’ weave the collection into one entirely consistent neo-pagan fugue. Several commentators have explained the rise of this kind of music as a retreat from reality by the youth of Western elites in the aftermath of 9/11, but Terrascope readers will more likely see a continuum stretching back through a range of similar artists back to the mid-90s collector’s boom, so one feels it is probably more to do with the enduring legacy of the extraordinary music during the social upheaval of the 60s, which resonates as strongly with those who encounter it now as it did then. (Tony Dale)

JACK ROSE – TWO ORIGINALS OF…

(CD on VHF Records, PO Box 7365, Fairfax Station VA 22039)

GLENN JONES – THIS IS THE WIND THAT BLOWS IT OUT

(CD on Strange Attractors Audio House, PO Box 13007, Portland OR 97213-0007)

    ‘Two Originals Of…’ makes one easily accessible CD out of Pelt member Jack Rose’s two vanished LPs on the Eclipse label, ‘Red Horse, White Mule’ and ‘Opium Musick’. The former LP contains finely wrought acoustic guitar meditations in the tradition of the Takoma and Vanguard labels, and strongly recalls the work of Sandy Bull and Peter Walker. The gloriously modality of the epic ‘Red Horse’ dominated Jack’s debut LP dominates the first of this CD. Embedding skyward gazing improvisation within a tight framework, Rose creates a modern classic of eastern-influenced acoustic guitar as well as dazzling with the giant leap that his playing has taken. Elsewhere ‘Dark Was the Night, and Cold Was the Ground’ is a simmering raga on slide, recalling a freer take on Ry Cooder’s work for the ‘Paris, Texas’ soundtrack, the muscularity of the playing on ‘White Mule II’ seems to dig notes out of the earth itself and ‘Hide the Whiskey’ abandons precision for a fragmentation grenade of slide guitar mayhem that rains shattered glass down around the listener. In the time between ‘Red Horse, White Mule’ and ‘Opium Musick’ Jack Rose developed and honed his skills in the raga form, as well as immersing himself in the pleasures of ragtime, heavily influencing the ‘Opium Musick’ recording, an eclectic collection with pieces for 12 string, 6 string, and lap guitar. There is collaboration here, too. The superbly wrought raga "Yaman Blues" features Pelt’s Mike Gangloff on tanpura, and the revisionist ragtime of "Linden Ave Stomp" is a duet with Cul de Sac’s Glenn Jones on guitar. Best track of all it the night-black 12-string menace of ‘Black Pearls’ which left this listener with constant desire to turn around and see if some hooded figure was standing in a rear corner of the room. The 12-page booklet reproduces the liner notes from both LP, allowing the opportunity to try and figure out whether the ludicrous notes for the debut LP by one ‘Kisan Nagai’ are a piss-take by label supremo Bill Kellum.

  Although one associates Glenn Jones most strongly with the heavy psych and space rock of his band Cul de Sac, he played acoustic guitar for many years before even picking up an electric guitar, and has slowly been gravitating in a more acoustic direction since collaborating with John Fahey on ‘The Epiphany of Glenn Jones’ (Thirsty Ear, 1996). On ‘This is the Wind that Blows it Out’ Jones creates a psychedelic swirl out of various primitive folk-blues forms, using higher order finger-picking and slide techniques to arresting effect. Delta blues is reinvented on the spectral title track, upon which Robert Johnson would smile down (or up) approvingly. ‘Sphinx Unto Curious Men’ is the complete ten minute version of ‘Second Victim?’, originally found in truncated form on Cul De Sac’s ‘The Strangler's Wife’ and it echoes enigmatically with full intro and outro in place. ‘Friday Nights With’ showcases Jones’ ability to place unforgettable melodic hooks in his compositions, ‘Fahey’s Car’ is a slipping and sliding sonic joy-ride along abandoned country roads (it even contains cheeky structural echoes of John Denver’s ‘Country Roads’). ‘The Doll Hospital’ forms a stunning centrepiece to the CD suspending the listener on every note to the point that one has to remember to breathe. A neat link to the Jack Rose CD reviewed above appears in the form of ‘Linden Avenue Stomp’ - an alternate take of the ragtime duet originally found on the ‘Opium Musick’ LP. Line up ‘This is the Wind that Blows it Out’ alongside works by Jack Rose, Ben Chasny, Steffen Basho-Junghans, and Harris Newman and it begins to look like a new “Guitar Soli” underground is emerging, fixing to ensure the relevance and therefore survival of folk-blues and raga forms on steel-string acoustic guitar into the indefinite future. Amen. (Tony Dale)

ACID MOTHERS TEMPLE – MANTRA OF LOVE

(CD on Alien8 Records, PO Box 666, Station R, Montreal, Quebec H2S 3LI, Canada)