The Residents - Third Reich n' Roll

The Cryptics' impressive demolition of pop music/fascist paraphernalia.

"A delicate balance between a love of Top 40 rock'n'roll and a genuine hatred of the culture which embraced it.' The theme behind Third Reich 'N' Roll, a sound montage/reorganisation of such old favourites as 'Pushin' Too Hard'/'96 Tears'/'Let's Twist Again'/'Hey Jude' (mixed with 'Sympathy for the Devil' vocals)/'Land Of 1,000 Dances'/'Hanky Panky'/'Let There Be Drums', to mention a few. Each new playing reveals a few more. The two sides: 'Swastikas On Parade', and 'Hitler Was A Vegetarian' are the past seen through the distorted prism of the present. Or vice versa. Funny too – and frightening: the point is made (but not belaboured), and can be ignored as you/I hear the sound..." - Jon Savage

Hitler Veggie

Big Star - Third/Sister Lovers

For Howard, my favorite Big Star and one of the most depressing albums ever made.

"Recorded a year later in 1974, with producer and fellow Memphis musician/producer Jim Dickinson and backed with a host of friends and flunkies, the album, which has three working titles, Third, Sisters Lovers, and Beale St. Green, wasn't released until 1978 when it sold fewer records than probably Skip Spence's Oar, an album it resembles. Sister Lovers was re-released on CD by Rykodisc in 1992 to near universal acclaim (except in Afghanistan. Humorless Taliban shitheads, they would have dug the misery). If the first Big Star album is the greatest pure pop album of the last thirty years, and if the second is the finest record made between Exile on Main Street and Hüsker Dü's New Day Rising, Sister Lovers is one of the top twenty albums of all time. And don't care if it's predominantly a solo or band venture; I look at the label and it says Big Star, and in the same way that the Byrds, Yardbirds, and The Move radically changed personnel, if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and is called Big Star, then it's a god damned duck.

And it is a very strange duck. To start with, it prefigures some of his solo albums in its self-absorption, disturbing solitude, sloppiness of musicianship, lack of a coherent song placement, and in its brutal disregard for convention or commercial prospects. Half the time, I want to sell it right after playing it, but then I proceed to drive a steak knife into my lower colon and play the album again. Most of the songs lack an introductory phrase: not merely in media res, but more like in the middle of hell, Chilton's songs are the songs you'd hear as Charon ferries you across the River Styx. And instead of money stuffed in your mouth to pay for the ride, your ears are stuffed with bleakness, radical song structures collapsing upon themselves, and relationships that end worse than the Holocaust: in Holiday Inns; on downs; or simply wishing to "shoot a woman." To be sure, as a singer/songwriter album full of quirky asides, declarations of hopelessness, and dark ramblings on the failure of America, Sister Lovers shares a similar greatness, ethos, and virtuosic intensity with other albums of the period, several of them nearly as great and dark as this one: Mayfield's Roots, Gaye's Here, My Dear, Wyatt's Rock Bottom, Young's Tonight's The Night, Cale's Paris 1919 and Hazelwood's Requiem For An Almost Lady. But Sister Lovers documents a great mind and a great talent at both the apex and the nadir of his career/life and, even if he begs "I want to white out" himself on the scary opening track, 'Kizza Me', he doesn't mean it – he is as proud to be our Cassandra, self-accused and accusatory, his fingers chained to a guitar of shimmering beauty. He proposes confessions here hoping for forgiveness. He is wrong. It is we who are sorry, guilty, miserable, former believers no longer living with certitude." - Michael Baker

I would add Reed's "Berlin"and Cohen's "Death of a Ladies' Man" to the list above, among others. But that's just me. Enjoy

Holocaust

Iannis Xenakis - Electronic Music

A small but significant example of the inscrutable genius of IX.

"This is a collection of compositions from electronic music pioneer and 20th century legend Iannis Xenakis, deceased in the early half of 2001 after a lifetime creating one of the most significant bodies of European art. The great Greek-born Frenchman's extraordinary work covered early electronic music and post-serialist composition, architecture, and mathematics, and his mastery of diverse mediums informed his work in music composition, securing his place as one of the most important composers of avant-garde classical music. Those familiar with Xenakis the architect will know him for his pavilion at the Brussels World's Fair (1970), while instrumental classical musicians will know of his complex and abstract percussion and string works. In electronic music he is known not as the inventor but as the composer who shaped the medium into one of the most progressive and complex mediums of the late 20th century. Hence, New York's Electronic Music Foundation released this compilation of his works dating from the late '50s, when at a Paris studio he produced these artifacts that take the primitive electronics of the time into stunningly sophisticated realms. On hearing this CD in the new millennium, it is hard to believe that these abstractions were not made in the late '90s, judging from their futuristic use of electronic effects. Xenakis' work was always considerably more abrasive than that of his contemporaries, and is comparable only to the work of Karlheinz Stockhausen, who was similarly interested in noise and sonic phenomena during the '60s. The works on this CD such as "Polytopes" and "Concrete PH" are concerned with "clouds of sound" where the density is extreme, giving these tape works complex textures that can be examined for hours and at different volumes, presenting effects from curious ambience to engaging and rigorous sound worlds. This archival collection comes highly recommended. It is more than a footnote in the history of electronic music, as many reissues can be; rather, this is a vital document in the shaping of late-20th century music." - Sylvie Harrison

Concret PH

Tim Buckley - Lorca

"Lorca took this lilting, jazzy aesthetic further in, and further out: Buckley elongated his songs into monumental, leisurely trajectories, expanses of Song, whose emphatically simple laments take on the cyclical, hypnotic quality of something like Pibroch. Buckley (and the trio of Underwood, Colins and bassist John Balkin) eschew facile solo-ing or fancy improvisation for a taut, sensual exploration of tempo ... Tempo as texture, and texture as mood ... A transcription of late night intimacies, of sensual surety, a hushed and hallowed pulse. These are conversational songs. These are adult lullabies. These the sort of songs, as Lorca once said, that demonstrate that a moonlight night of one hundred years ago is the same as a moonlit night of ten years ago.

"Songs which were only a song still to come ... they guided the sailor towards that space where singing would really begin."
- Maurice Blanchot, The Song of The Sirens."

- Ian Penman

Git

Tim Buckley - Starsailor

Epochal.

"DESPITE ITS STRANGE time-signatures (‘The Healing Festival’ was in 10/4) and unusual instrumentation (flugelhorn, pipe organ, alto-flute), Starsailor still rocks, in its own singular and unorthodox way, thanks to the internal combustion engine stroked by Lee Underwood's scalding rhythm guitar, John Balkin's lunging and twisting bass, and the elegant frenzy of Maury Baker's drumming. Riding the group's implacable drive, Buckley's abstract expressionist ballet-for-voice is at its most untethered and gaseous. On the solo voice ‘Starsailor’, the singer multiplied himself into an astral choir. Sixteen strands of Buckley's eeriest vocal goo – overdubbed, but amazingly not treated with effects in any way – ooze and extrude, striate and shiver, forming a multi-octave meshwork of rippling filaments and quivering tentacles. It's like you're somehow inside Buckley's body – exploring its labyrinthine architecture of erotic energies and pre-verbal intensities, an inner-spatial honeycomb of bliss and dread, attraction and repulsion.

The only parallels for what he was doing on ‘Starsailor’ – and the most gravity-defying and ectoplasmic vocal manouevres on ‘Jungle Fire’ and ‘Healing Festival’ – are Gyorgi Ligeti's hair-raising choral music on the soundtrack of 2001: A Space Odyssey, or Diamanda Galas' Litanies Of Satan. The Ligeti comparison is all the more astounding given that Buckley had no formal knowledge of music theory, harmony, et al, and had never even taken a single voice lesson.

In rock, only Iggy Pop (the un-human snarls and expectorations of ‘TV Eye’) and Robert Wyatt (the muezzin-wail-meets-scat falsetto altitudes scaled in the final minutes of ‘Sea Song’) have taken the human voice as far as Buckley did on Starsailor. Weirdly, given that the album seemed to represent Buckley's final push to break free of being "a slave to the lyrics", the words were among his best ever – a sort of erotic-mystic Fauvist beat poetry, all "baited moans" and "I love you like a jungle fire". Larry Beckett, back on board, also came up with some triptastic imagery, like the title track's "Though I memorised the slope of water/Oblivion carries me on his shoulder/Beyond the suns I speak and circuits shiver." Starsailor was critically hailed, receiving a five-star review from jazz mag Downbeat and inspiring purple praise galore (Idris Walters described Buckley as a "vagrant in the void" and a "multioctave drifter in the oblivionosphere".) But the record bombed commercially, and the efforts at live translation went down like a cup of cold sick with audiences baffled by Buckley's forays into Dada-style bruitisme

or sound poetry – snoring, yodelling, barking. Devastated, Buckley sank into depression, drowning his sorrows with barbiturates, booze, and, when it came his way, heroin.

For a couple of years, he retired from the business, legendarily chauffeuring for Sly Stone and working in the ethnomusicology department of UCLA on the notation of Japanese and Balinese music. (Both these activities may actually be more of Buckley's tall tales.) He did a bit of acting, co-starring with OJ Simpson in a never-released movie called Why?, and writing equally unsuccessful screenplays like Fully Air-Conditioned Inside, the story of a struggling musician." - Simon Reynolds

Song to the Siren

Talk Talk - Spirit of Eden

An album that changed the face of music forever.

"Spirit Of Eden occupies a space outside musical genres, an area between pop and jazz that is painted vividly with the colours and textures of blues, ambient, classical, rock... The first half of the record consists of a suite of three tracks which flow organically between each other, The Rainbow starting inauspiciously with subdued strings and the rumour of trumpets, the awakening of the record heralded by squalls of over-amped harmonica and electric guitar, Friese-Green in thrall to Lamonte Young, Cage and Stockhausen while Hollis invokes his fascination with Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker. But where Johnson’s soul was sold, Hollis finds his saved amid the fall and rise, the surging tide. The passages of neo-classical ambience belie the loose and buried structure; there are refrains here, musical and almost lyrical, muffled talk of the lawyer’s song, the jailer’s song, the unending trial, before whispered silence drifts us into Eden. Time and again the battle between temptation and redemption ushers us between chaos and bliss, the storm gathering, those gentle passages between the fray opening up the clouds to reveal regions of crystal blue away from the shredding guitar that wails with the dependency and need that hold us back from salvation.


The final section of the opening triptych washes in on cowed church organ, ruminative, reverent, before the implosion that is foreseen but irresistible, Hollis a rage against resignation, a cry of “that ain’t me babe” again and again before a confession of escaped weakness, a refusal to go under; “I’m just content to relax / than drown within myself”, anything but content, turning the ire to aid salvation. All the while the guitar is ferocity, harsh plains of bass and the biting wind of harmonica overset with clattering, broiling drums, percussive white-horses eroding the self to the point of catharsis and sublimation, unstoppable even when the rest has fallen by the wayside, Web and Harris together a source of elemental rhythm, powerful, refined, sometimes elusive and always measured to perfection." - Nick Southall

Inheritance

Karlheinz Stockhausen - Hymnen

For Felix. My favorite KS work and one of the most important musical constructions of the 20th century. More info about it here.

Pluramon

Karlheinz Stockhausen - Elektronische Musik 1952-1960

It's Stockhausen dammit, nothing more needs to be said. Includes brilliant performances of "Gesang der Jünglinge", "Kontakte" and "Etude".

Teutonic master

Lee "Scratch" Perry & The Upsetters - Super Ape

You heard the most recent stuff from the Jamaican Madman, now hear him in his absolute prime, blasting off new soundworlds through the valves of his humid, interzonal Black Ark.

Creation

Arthur Lee & Love - Live at the Knitting Factory, May 1st 2002

Love, one of my most cherished bands. When I found out back in 2006 that Arthur Lee had died of leukemia, i felt intense grief as if he were a personal friend. But i truly feel as if he were, his lyrics and arrangements move me deeply, and have accompanied me through thick and thin. Forever Changes is an irrefutable masterpiece, ive heard this record countless times and it fails to grow old. Well, after Artie served a 12 year sentence for firearms possesion he went on tour in 2002 with Johnny Echols(original guitarist of Love) and the "Love" band also known as Baby Lemonade(my guess is its a Syd Barrett reference). This live album is an excerpt of said tour and it includes many of my fav Love tunes, including: she comes in colors, alone again or, que vida, you set the scene, etc. etc. Here the violins and horns are replaced with some blazing guitars which really add some spice to it, one hell of a show, you can really feel the energy of the crowd. enjoy.

Thrum pum pum pum...

Fania All-Stars - Live at the Cheetah Vol 1 & 2

I was digging through my Dad's closet a few weeks ago looking for any old records he had. Amongst the big pile of shit that is Boston, REO Speedwagon, and Kenny G I found a few gems. A live Donna Summers record, The White Album, an old Menudo album (mine when I was little), and Vol 2 of this legendary piece of music. 

Recorded live at the NYC club the Cheetah, a few years prior to their famous Yankee Stadium gig, it features one of their best line-ups ever performing so tight even the paraplegics must have been dancing. Larry Harlow, Ray Barretto, Willie Colon, Johnny Pacheco, Roberto Roena, and Bobby Valentin all provide the musical backdrop with their coke fueled grooves while Hector Lavoe, Ismael Rivera, among others provide the vocals.  

Here we have both Vol 1 and 2 originally released as separate records. There's a reason they became some of the highest selling Latin music albums ever.

Quitate Tu

Butthole Surfers - Locust Abortion Technician

I'll let the Seth Man go ballistic over this cornerstone of underground music and the Alternative Nation:

"...and we're shot headfirst into a sludgy, slow, bashing mangling of Sabbath's "Sweet Leaf", with Gibby snarling something that sounds like "RAPE!!! OF DESIRE!!!" through a pile of delays and other electronic rubble. The effect of going from that intro to THIS is about as close as you get musically to the experience of being thrown into a pit of alligators. Welcome to "Locust Abortion Technician", folks...one of the two arguable peak products of the Texan juggernaut of sheer psychosis known as the Butthole Surfers. To attempt to describe everything on this album is pretty much impossible. Just trust me when I say that ANYWHERE you put the needle down on this slab is going to be totally over-the-top insanity, like some deranged miswiring of rock machinery from Cologne, Detroit, Houston, and Alpha Centauri hooked up in some way that's almost certain to cause the whole mess to explode! Let's hit the high points, shall we? After "Sweat Loaf", the first version of "Graveyard" lurches and crawls all over your forebrain, tape running at the wrong speed, everything dragging like some sort of hybrid of NEU!'s "Super 16" and The Stooges on dental anaesthesia. "HAY" features drunken yelling, tracks running the wrong way, a vortex of severe weirdness. A great lead-in to the thrash-out "Human Cannonball"...a straight-up punk slammer as only them Butthole Boys can do 'em. The first track of side 2 was my first intro to the Buttholes. I had spent the previous evening on some particularly heavy acid, and while coming down paid a visit to my collaborator in my ambient ensemble at the time. Jim had this manic grin on, and said "Have a seat...I have something YOU need to hear...RIGHT NOW!" And he dropped "USSA" on at full-blast. I have yet to recover from this. The whole thing starts off with industrial hammering while Paul Leary spuzzes along in the key of R. Then some sadistic bastard grabs the tape speed controls, and everything lurches violently, then Gibby starts screaming "USSA!! USSR!! USA!! USR!!!" through a fatally-damaged prison PA system as someone starts scratching a record. No, not as in hip-hop. Literally. Brutally dragging the tone arm back and forth as 'percussion'. Good Christ. Leary returns to play such great notes and "KREEANNG!!" and "SPRAIIIGNNN!!!" and "BLEAAANNNGG!" over the whole demonically-possessed mess before it all just stops. "The O-men" is another hardcore skankorama, with lyrics that may be related to the Pentacostal act of faith known as 'speaking in tongues'. Or maybe Gibby's got a bottle of pure liquid amyl in the vocal booth and he's taking big huffs between phrases. Or both. "KUNTZ" takes a Vietnamese pop tune and subjects it to electronic manglery to get the vocalist to start going "KUNTZKUNTZKUNTZKUNTZ..."...which gets worse and worse and more brain-damaged as this short treatise on what NOT to do with effects continues. Then "22 Going on 23" gets started with a snippet of radio psychology about someone who 'cannot sleep' before the sludge-o-tastic Surfers kick in over the top in a groove that sounds like a poppy and upbeat...ahhh...Melvins? Yeah, that's a stretch for the mind, I know. Over this, swirling around in stereo like evil spirits, are voices repeating fragments: "...sleep problem...", "...anxiety...", "...medicine...", and the woman at the beginning who keeps releating "I cannot sleep..." It sounds like pure insanity. It IS pure insanity. And with the sound of cows mooing, the whole episode is over. You're safe. It stopped. This thing is a total mental meltdown. That's really the only term for it. It's beyond psychedelia, and off into some turf that would land average people in the rubber room. Musically, it's primal, primitive, assaultive...and damn close to unique. Even their previous effort, "Rembrandt Pussyhorse", while still being a real brain-roaster, doesn't have the attack stance this does. There was once a rave sampler called "Only for the Headstrong"...but those who thought they were down with that would probably be psychologically incinerated by "Locust Abortion Technician". It just ain't right, as they say down there in the Lone Star state. If you think you can handle this, be my guest, but don't come complaining to me when the back of your head explodes JFK-style all over the wall behind your couch. I _warned_ you, dammit."

gibbytronix

FELICIDADES BAMBALAN!!!

happy birthday to our mate: Kemuel(Sandunga Cat). I wish you the best in the next revolution 'round the sun. Thanks for all the tunes and the laughs.

Eddie Palmieri - Live at the UPR

One of The Sun of Latin's Music most zonked out sets. Palmieri punishes that Fender Rhodes into pure utter craziness and conjures some nasty Tropical Cosmic Grooves with his scorching ensemble. Features white hot versions of "Bilongo" y "Pa' Huele". Features his brother Charlie "El Gigante de las blancas y las negras" on equally demented electric organ. Personal fave: "La Malanga". Respect to a true master of Caribbean Music.

Un Cachito

Thelonious Monk - Misterioso

One of his most celebrated works, and it has De Chirico's Seer on the cover. What more do you want? More Monk perhaps?

'Round Midnight

Lee "Scratch" Perry - Repentance

Abe request. New shit from Jamaica's Mad Genius and one of the crucial figures in the development of its music. Produced by Andrew WK with contributions by David Tibet, Don Fleming (Velvet Monkeys et al), Brian Chippendale (Lightning Bolt) and Sasha Grey (yes, the porn star).

Pum Pum

Neil Motherfuckin' Young.

Why more people arent into Neil absolutely escapes me. He has influenced absolutely everybody, including your mom. I blame that whole pearl jam fiasco.

here's his first solo album, after he stirred shit up with Buffalo Springfield and Crosby Stills Nash & Young.

the loner = fucking classic.


after that, he went ahead and spawned this lil' gem. Cinnamon girl, Down by the river & Cowgirl in the sand; are you fucking kidding me?

Maybe its his cro-magnonish facade

Tangerine Dream - Zeit

TD as glacial, molasses like ambient outfit, recording approximations on the sound of galaxies colliding. Check how "The Birth of Liquid Plejades" puts chancers like Godspeed You! Black Emperor to shame...and it was recorded more 20 years before those canadian pretenders ever decided to pick up an instrument.

time

The List

The infamous Nurse With Wound list. Rosetta Stone for us demented music freaks with a penchant for hallucinogenics.

Suicide - A Way of Life

Their third album, includes perhaps their most beautiful song, "Surrender", that sounds like doo-wop's ghost trapped in a web of old transistors.

I Surrender