EntheoGeneric

And now for something completely different. Trance and down-tempo music at a forest rave! They colored this party as a "Lightship Activation," some kind of preparation for the coming madness, climate change, the end of the Mayan Calendar, etc. There were a few speakers on Saturday afternoon, but ultimately, this festival was not what we would call a conscious collective moving toward change. I just can't ever care about trance music, especially when it's supported by so much electricity (where's the bike-powered generators?). The only reason Julia and I were there was to help Simon and Drea work at the art gallery, which Simon was in charge of.

Lots of the right elements were in place. A beautiful property on Mt. Elphinstone with a pond, a creek, summer tanagers flying amok; the art gallery; vegan food huts; plenty of unique vendors who try to be as sustainable as possible; a hooka lounge off the beaten path; ravers camping instead of driving. Yeah.

Ultimately, though, it comes down to the music. This scene is still the same scene, no matter how pretty an environment is. People are still doing drugs everywhere, which isn't necessarily bad, but the collective intent is totally misguided. It is, after all, a party, not a learning community. The music is trance-oriented. Duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn. You know the kind. A relentless pulse which, if you are not actually in the tent listening, always sounds terrible from afar. There was another tent that had much better and diverse music, but our art gallery was right next to the trance tent. So, we got the raw deal.

At least we were surrounded by people we love and great artwork all weekend. The sun did shine and we lay on moss and blankets. It was very relaxing. It's a shame I have to complain about the festival, because if it didn't express those intentions beforehand, it wouldn't have fallen into the category of "not good enough." It was a very nice place. I think the organization was fine, but the scene just doesn't reflect what the intent is. Nice costumes, though, as usual.

Russian Circles "Station" akin to Quality Hamburger

Enter came to my ears first as hype. Russian Circles were this enigmatic "word on the street" of post-rock and post-metal and all that malarky. Whenever this happens with a new band, trepidation takes hold of me. Who deserves such hype before I've heard it!? Who!?

These guys do! For once, something actually lived up to all the unnecessary and possible career-damning "talk" about a record. Some serious guitar virtuosity, solid drumming and song writing is to be heard on that record. Their second record Station came to me first as a military graduation photo. I assume the regiment posing for the band is Russian and have seen many winters since photo day. I saw it in the record store, and went "Oh yeah, THEM!"

Before I spun the record, I recalled having seen Russian Circles live at Richards' here in Vancouver. They opened for the Red Sparowes and really stole the show. It didn't help that only four of the five members of Red Sparowes made it across the border. Russian Circles' stark lighting scheme and mature dynamics were captivating. The drummer is so damn good, and the guitarists--Woa, wait a minute. There's only one. I swear there were at least two. Ahh, I didn't take into account technology. This guy uses a loop pedal, and he's slick! So good with it.

So in goes Station and damn if I'm not listening to it non-stop these days. I have to be careful not to over-do it. Nothing hurts more than saturating my brain with a really good record, only to find it over-played and bland. I just can't help it. Where Enter had awesome riffs, Station has mature song-writing. I just watched a really slack-jawed dude interview the band in Seattle (he didn't know they were from Seattle or what their albums were called), and they said the goal was to write a mature record, one with staying power in the song craft. Bravo!

Station is just so solid. It's my go-to record for getting through these long days of animating children choking on carrots and un-cut hot dogs. I just listened twice in a row, without a decrease in enjoyment. See graph:

According to the graph, you can see that the record even grew on me at the beginning. It had to, because Russian Circles were widely known for their RIFFOLOGY and the awesome PUNCH IN THE OVARIES that is "metal," even though they aren't metal, really. They borrow a bit, but Russian Circles are way more melodic and pretty in their approach to achieving sirloin steak-quality electric worshipping. And yes, they are worthy of a well-risen kaiser bun to wrap around their meatiness.

In fact, Station is much like a hamburger. The first and last tracks are like a quality kaiser, much more subdued than the meaty filling that is the center of the album. As we chomp through, I might liken this album to a triple cheese burger, but from Black Angus, not Wendy's. Even though Wendy's gets props for being the "high class" chain of fast foods, this album ain't no Baconator. Burgers that grace a Russian Circles sandwich would be cuts of buffalo or caribou, a sublime blend of intelligence and meat -- High quality, grass-fed meat that's high in iron and zinc and low in saturated fat. When you eat caribou or moose, you know you're getting optimal nutrition. That's how Station is. Like an organic caribou burger from a local farm. Bon appetit.

Mystery Sea and Pregnancy: Part II

Well, another order of albums from afar came my way about a week ago, and dang if I am not totally stoked. Despite all the amazing music I got, I had a secret affinity to first listen to the two Mystery Sea selections that were amongst the lot.

The one that easily stood out was Umbilicus Maris by a one-woman act named Gydja. Self-describing her music as "dark ambience for dark goddesses" I immediately pictured Drea collecting herself at the bottom of the ocean, her dark hair swimming every which way as she slowly turns into coral, inhabited by a plentitude of fish and polyps.

Being as it is on Mystery Sea, it has the unfortunate fate of being limited to 100 copies. It really is quite lovely. The good part is that Gydja (Norwegian for "Priestess") does make other albums. There's a new one on Gears of Sand called Machina Mundi. It apparently evokes weather and plant life, unlike the album I have, which is clearly a holy bioluminescent existence in an undersea cave. Actually, I specifically imagined being in the underground rivers and lakes in Mexico underneath the pyramids on the Yucatán Peninsula.

Umbilicus Maris truly is the perfect imaginary soundtrack to aquatic spelunking in Mexico. It's "dark" only in that you can't see that well, but the tones and the nature of the disc is really quite warm. Underground rivers on the Yucatán maintain a temperature of 76 degrees Fahrenheit (25 degrees Celsius) year-round. I'm not saying that Abby Helasdottir, the woman from New Zealand who is Gydja, was going for 76-degree water with this recording, but even if you're staring into the dark abyss, it's much more comfortable if the water is warm. The disc is akin to drifting underground and discovering a plethora of iridescent petroglyphs that animate in a slow dancing story of an unrecorded civilization. Gurgling swaths of reverb use the water's reflection to paint images on the cave's ceiling, while prismatic droplets drip from glowing stalactites with beating hearts from an ice age still encased inside.

Then the serpent designs on the walls start to rotate and glide, sprouting wings, cascading symmetrically creating four-dimensional objects in a non-threatening manner. This gives way to a procession of whale sized coffins floating overhead, presumably containing the bodies of various banished gods of Mayan lore. The drones inhale and exhale with many shades of the same overseeing voice, a plenitude of awareness oozing from the water and the overmind into my own. Drea once dictated to me, "When you sing or use your voice in any way, you are co-creating the Universe."

Basically, this sounds like the Universe singing along with our efforts. Very nice. Might be a bit subterranean as a soundtrack to our home birth, but maybe Julia will feel extra Earthy that day. Considering we're doing a water birth, this might fit in nicely with the ambiance, as there is an endless supply of drips and ripples aiding the airy bellows of Umbilicus Maris. I reserve the right to believe that she'll only put up with Stars of the Lid, though. I just have that feeling. Gydja does the patient sonic "breathing" that SOTL do, but it definitely has a darker cumbustion to it.

Gydja's myspace page also has something fun to say, and I share this sentiment:
"Please do not send an Add Request if you already have several thousand friends for no conceivable reason; your only contact with women is the porn stars you've added as your top friends; your style of music requires that your band appear in photos in a single line wearing black t-shirts with indicipherable white logos on them; or you just seem an odd fit for Gydja's themes and music. If it seems like you come under any of these categories and would still like to be added as a friend, perhaps an explanatory private message to coincide with the Add Request is in order."

Follow this link to hear her music.

El Ten Eleven Rock!

El Ten Eleven - "My Only Swerving"
These guys practice.

Stream the New Sigur Rós Album

It's time, once again, for another band to let people hear their album for free. Sigur Rós are streaming með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust for a limited time so . . . go here.

Ruhr Hunter meets special Smoking Blend

Xris, Nathan and I were relaxing in the parlor the other day when we had the idea to try a mild smoking blend I obtained from the Urban Shaman. I put on the new Ruhr Hunter album, and wow, our minds were blown. Piqued, you could say. What an amazing record!

After finishing the hardwood floors in this room and setting it up for entertaining guests, I felt like it was a dead ringer for "music parlor." I could imagine an old Victrola propped up in the corner, filling the well-lit space with tart crackle and tone. Ruhr Hunter is definitely something I'd like to hear coming out of a Victrola horn. It is so unusual. Ritualistic mantras or spells cast across long expanses of "time."

As with all Glass Throat releases the packaging is unreal. Oversized and impeccable design sense. It's sort of like leafing through an animal tattooed with runes and iridescent scripture. It instantly set the tone for us as we tried to decipher its contents while the sounds cascaded throughout the room. Xris heard an owl, and then the sample began hooting to the beat. He criticized the creator for enslaving this bird's call to a beat, which wouldn't ever really happen. But in Ruhr Hunter's world it does happen. Chet Scott gets the animals playing with him like a moss-covered pied piper. Rain starts falling, we hear thunder. We forget about impossibilities. We relax. And then Hannibal storms our small walled city. We could hear his army in the distance, approaching. When we saw the torches and the elephant phalanx, we lost our minds.

Later, after we were conquered, their ministry entered the city and cleansed us of our false gods with a smokey ritual. Worshipping God by another name is better than dying for a strict interpretation of it, so we caved and bowed. Our new lives would be different and we would have to re-interpret freedom and our relationship to Nature...

Then we remembered Suzanne had cooked strawberry rhubarb pie, and we descended the stairs.

Toshiaki Ishizuka sure sounds good on my new iMac

You know that movie Predator? When the special OPs soldiers are investigating things in the jungle, no one knows what is happening. The music accompanying parts of movies like this is sparse, physical and invokes that "mystery." Bowed cymbals, woodblocks, water drums, "ethnic" percussion. It tells the audience, "You're not from here, and there is mystery." Toshiaki Ishizuka's third album "Drum Drama" is like the beginning of Predator, for forty minutes, persistently hiding in the jungle, sneaking up on you, attacking, receding, droning, dilly-dallying in the underbrush. There is drama, indeed. The kind that implements silence as much as sound.

Shimmery percussive dronescapes constantly redirected by a "kitchen-sink" drumming approach are what this album is all about. It's amazing that there's even a drumset involved, since most of the sounds (save for the sparse and emphatic tom fills) sound more like pots and pans, lakes and bells. Plus it's just one dude. I find it incredible that all these sounds are from hands or sticks hitting things. The drones that come from some of these membranes are awesome as they capture such rich, multi-dimensional tones. My brand new iMac can make my office sound like a well-tended Japanese garden, with professionial nods from the Samurai sentries and the occasional tanuki battle. It's all very serious, but also very capable of outbursts. It's drama, people.

The album I got is all in Japanese, save the album name and song titles. So I have no idea what instruments are being used to do all this amazing textural work. And even though Toshiaki Ishizuka is a bit of an underground drumming legend in Japan, I can't find much about him other than he is in a band with Keiji Haino called Vajra, which i recall is a "sword of truth." Awesome solo work.

New Grails Record

There is a new Grails record. It took me by surprise. Just thought I'd mention it, for anyone who, by chance, looked at this site. "Burning Off Impurities," their last one, was so damn good, I can't imagine how they have progressed now.

This one is called "Take Refuge In Clean Living" which is some kind of reference to Jesus making beds and tables, I think. You know: How Jesus made beds (he was a carpenter?) that, for the first time, were off the ground, so we didn't sleep in the cockroaches and germs, the squalor. Same with tables and our meals. I dunno. that's what i thought of first. And with their Eastern tinges coloring their music, I imagine this could be the reference. Doesn't matter. Maybe all Grails are saying is, Brush your teeth.

Jean-Francois Laporte - "Soundmatters"

It's hard to talk about an album like this without smelling of pretension. Beholding a series of sound pieces that are as physical and minimal as these leaves words looking suspicious and unnecessary. But this album is just so cathartic. You must hear it.

Jean-Francois Laporte is a French-Canadian. What does that have to do with anything? Not much, except that it helps me bone up on my French while I peruse liner notes. This man works with drones, but not like a lot of these artists who use computers. All of Laporte's source material is live instrumentation or "machine coaxing," like on the epic 26-minute "Mantra" which is a recording of this man miking an air compressor on an ice rink and subtly altering valves and piping or placing metal discs over vents to create these sick-ass timbres. And just to make sure it's not as easy as putting a microphone next to your lawnmower, this guy did over 200 takes just to get it right.

The result is divine, really. So relaxing. You know how sometimes you notice that your fridge is actually singing, and has been all its life? Sometimes it gets on your nerves, but what if you put that refrigerator in a cavernous space like an ice rink? It could sound pretty good. Laporte suggests that the machines of our post-industrial era create constant mantras that surround us, and when listened to in a revised perspective they can actually achieve transformative and meditative properties.

Jean-Francois doesn't merely play the prepared air compressor, no. The first track on this album is all wind recordings from an ice storm in Montreal. The second is really pretty, in that post-industrialization way. The third track "Dans Le Ventre Du Dragon" has him using a self-made instrument that has a series of car alarms and trumpet bells all controlled with foot pedals (that are attached to the bits that do the blowing). The idea is that one can blow a horn for an indeterminate amount of time and really let it ring out. To demonstrate how awesome this can sound, Laporte recorded this track in the hull of an abandoned ocean tanker. Where does one book an empty ocean liner to record? Dude's got connections. I actually used this track in a film to accentuate the awesome mass of the Giant Sand Dunes in Colorado. The echoes and rich, bellowing tones are just awesome to listen to.

The album takes pieces recorded between 1997 and 2005, all of which seemed to have won "prizes" at different music conventions around the world. I guess that means this music is "serious music." When you create a foot pedal horn entourage machine and can win worldly competitions, you are definitely serious. The album is beyond all of this talk talk. It is entirely meditative. I just listened to it in my living room at a good volume and I was totally into it. I sometimes imagine someone breaking into my house, only to enter and hear magnificent sounds such as these, thus confusing him long enough to club him in the head with my crowbar.

Jean-Francoise Laporte's music can help you nab burglars. That's what I'm saying. If you're curious what other "serious music" sounds like. Check out the label this album is on: 23five. Among the other artists are Francisco Lopez, Coelacanth and Steve Roden. There's a ton more you've never heard of, doing things no one has thought of. Pretty fascinating and Nerd-O-rama.

Portishead - "Third"

This record is way better than I thought it would be. First off, the fact that this band exists rings of phenomenon. I can't believe there were nay-sayers on this album. Thoughtless drivel, it most certainly was.

Each song on this album is so different from the last, which is an automatic distinction from previous records. And yet, it maintains a very Portishead aroma throughout, while taking me places we've never gone together. It's a bit "less polished," and Portishead sounds like a real band in an actual place, playing music. The bland album title and cover and lack of lyrics were all forgiven once I delved into the music. Enshrouded in that familiar sea-green, smokey Portishead gossamer, Third is macabre carnival, folk song revival, 8-bit ballad, dominatrix dancehall and that tasteful, dreamy gloom that makes this band so special.

It's the adventurous variation from song to song that makes this such an exciting listen. I get chills often, and from completely different kinds of songs. "Machinegun" was the single, which is amazing considering the very un-mom-friendly, blown out, off-kilter drum machining that dominates the song. The video is actually cool to watch if you're into hypnosis, as we get to see Adrian Utley pound drum pads with drum sticks. Once I got past the gatekeeper that is the beat of this song (and it does challenge one's perception of "Portishead song") I was totally hypnotized. The other video for "The Rip" is amazing, fully animated pencil drawings. There's a higher quality version on the Portishead site, but it requires registration, and you can see it here:

Even after all the experimentation and seemingly random musical twists, there are several songs that are vintage Portishead, mostly . . . kind of. They cast that night sky glow, but then there's some strange visitor in the form of either a blown-out guitar line for four seconds or a turntable wah-wah-grind that keeps you on your guard. I think this record is definitely darker, even for Portishead, and it is showcased in the lyrics and guitar lines. But each element, even the raw-sounding ones, are placed just right, and after my initial listen I was anticipating those "ugly" parts to come in that one glorious time. The album makes me think of drinking bitters and tea on the roof of a skyscraper at sunrise, while smoke from riots the night before is dissipating. Third's songs are the folkish stories from some apocalyptic menage.

There's a great interview with the two dudes in Portishead (Adrian and Geoff Barrow, the guitar player) at Pitchfork. They have a sensibility that my friends and I share about making music. So it's "great" in that they think like us.

Radio Head Games and Douchebags

Julia and I were really poor for a few weeks. Our contractor at the Children's Hospital was over a month overdue in paying us. We were fortunate to get a healthy tax break back from Canada this Spring, otherwise we'd be borrowing money right now or dipping into savings. During this drought, as I try to become Canadian and have a baby, I learned of Radiohead's coming to town. I didn't have any money for these pricey tickets. But now that I do, I'm surfing craigslist. This was my first attempt a couple days ago:

He was initially offering for $50 or best offer. I don't know what I did wrong. All I know is that Julia will kill me if I die before seeing Radiohead play. She's having a baby and insisting I see the band. So I continue my search and email this next guy, who I thought was selling two tix for 140 dollars. But then I realize he's selling them each for 140 and emailed him back saying no thanks. I thanked him for doubling the ticket price, as well, which was a mildly inflammatory thing to say, but it rendered a response:
Clearly I was in the wrong, so I tried to expand my threshold for financial bleeding. It's definitely recommended to buy a concert ticket as soon as they go on sale, especially for Radiohead. That way you don't have to deal with douchebags like this fellow. Wait a tic -- Let's analyze his BS reply. He'd pay $500 to see Radiohead, but that's his ceiling. He seemed to be suggesting that great experiences like going to this show really have no price tag. But $500 was all he was willing to shill out. AND he would fly to London to do it. Let's see,

Seems the cheapest flight I can find rings just under $1500 before taxes. Lucky for him it's a non-stop flight. So we're talking two grand at this point with this fellow, all for Thom and Johnny and the gang. His true fandom would be tested. It's not like Thom is going to know about all the hard work and hard cash this upstanding man put in just to see him play for a couple hours. That's dedication.

I made sure to let my new friend know about it, too.
And you know Jack Johnson would do it, too, because he's a cool dude, unlike this scalper assclown. You know a response is warranted after this email. I'm picking a fight now, look at me go. His reply was surprisingly, but uselessly, informative:
Not a scalper by trade, perhaps, but by habit? At least he put some effort and research into his reply. Good man. But, clearly a dead end for me. The next person I emailed had E-tickets at $100 each, and it seemed that she (Rebecca of the Kato Group) lived in a central time zone. Not even in Vancouver. What's the first rule of Craigslist?
Right. I am hoping that this search turns out well . . .

Tom Waits interviews Himself, the Devil

So there's this guy named Tom Waits and he's crazy. He interviewed himself and talked about things that scare him and such. He also revealed that he's playing The Devil in Terry Gilliam's next film that comes out next year. Depp's in it, too. Jude Law. Some other folks. I thought Tom Waits was the Devil's Messenger, so perhaps he's been casted ironically?

Eric Malmberg - "Verklighet & Beat"

Julia and I listen to this album when the sun shines. We took a trip out to Langley on transit, and it was more than an hour both ways. I brought a splitter so we could both enjoy music. Verklighet & Beat (read: Reality and beat) brought on the aural kaleidoscope and colored our sunny journey home.

Each song's principle melody is timeless. I swear I've heard it before. I check the previous song to see if maybe the melody had been used earlier in the album, but no, this one is different. It's sort of like a soundtrack to something you do habitually, like cleaning your kitchen or taking a walk in the woods. You never do it quite the same way or see the same things each time.

Eric Malmberg plays the Hammond Organ; you know, that warm, shimmering surface of a lake sounding organ. The one that psychs up a Toronto Maple Leafs crowd between face-offs. One song sounds like a soundtrack to a 1950's spy movie in Europe, and the next sounds like a paper Chinese dragon on fire hurtling through a psychedellic worm hole of trumpets and martial drums. There's marching drums on the album, but they never sound grim. Think, rather, of a Pokemon celebration parade, but not scored by underpaid, underfed Japanese composers. These pieces have full orchestra and percussion; a really full band sound. It's a menagerie, and at times it squiggles and stomps so much that it's cause to grin and dance wildly.

Malmberg was part of a famous organ/drum duo called Sagor & Swing before he went all solo. He’s also the author of the comic Happy Hammond in Slumberland. His melodies are minor key, and yet sound very positively charged. He seems pretty happy. I mean, look at his picture. He looks pretty blissed out. Those flowers behind him? He's creating them with his mind. Eric Malmberg makes flowers grow with his mind. That, I think, is captured on this record.

He's also Swedish, which can help explain. Sweden, despite the high taxes, is a wonderful place to be. I've been there. The air is cleaner than any air I've ever breathed. Global warming is scared of places like Sweden. Eric Malmberg is likely fighting off global warming with his own warm shuffling and shimmering organ pieces. Let's just say it right now: Verklighet & Beat is anti-global warming and comes highly recommended.

Mystery Sea and Pregnancy: Part I

May I draw your attention to a really cool record label? It is called Mystery Sea. Music on this label is going to be the soundtrack to my baby's home birth.

Each release (of which there are close to 50) is limited to 100 copies and somehow fits into a focus on "Night-Ocean Drones". Every disc is impeccably designed and packaged, even though it's a CD-R label. Yes, CD-R labels; they exist. In fact, each album would run you around $18 to buy (and it's in England so you have to get them shipped across the Atlantic or get them from a savvy record store over here). CD-R's at $20 sounds pretty ludicrous, but the quality of the music on the label pretty much makes me forget money was involved.

The first album I got (through Aquarius Records, of course) was by a Russian sound duo called Exit In Grey. Russian drone guitarists. Yup. It makes sense, really: Night ocean drones coming from the colder parts of the world, like Russia. The music could easily act as a soundtrack to exploring a deep-sea shipwreck and hallucinating(?) a forest there within the cannonballed hull. Exit in Grey use guitars and field recordings, mostly, to get their sound. There's even a woodpecker sample buried deep in the mix at one point. Apparently beetles are also featured somewhere on the album, but I am not sure how to pick those out.

Julia and I sleep to this record. Sometimes the "Night" part of the Ocean Drone thing can be a bit too dark for her taste, and if it so happens that Julia protests the inklings of a couple of Russian nerds, I immediately go for our stand-by night-time lullaby composers Stars of the Lid. Julia thinks that while she gives birth in our home in a couple months she could listen to Stars of the Lid and ocean drones constantly. Given that we're going to do the birth submerged in water the Mystery Seas are a perfect match, theoretically. So I have ordered four more Mystery Seas along with a bunch of other delightful drone albums to sooth Momma as she shrugs and heaves with the Universe this July. Thanks, Russia et all.

Speaking of deep sea wreckage, have you heard the music of Light Of Shipwreck? Totally killer oceanic percussion-doused ambiance. Let it wash over you.

Albert Hoffmann

Albert Hoffmann, creator/discoverer of the molecule known as LSD died on April 29th. He was 102 years old! I wanted to thank Albert for all the hard work he put into his craft, his education of people concerning responsible use of psychedelics, and for all the music I love that he vicariously helped influence. Maybe, Albert, you can visit me in my sleep.