Righteous Label: Dynamophone

Dynamophone is in San Fran, and they specialize in ambient and "euphonic experimental" music. Ha! Euphonic. Maybe you thought they meant "euphoric" but no!

eu·pho·ny /ˈyufəni/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[yoo-fuh-nee] –noun, plural -nies.
agreeableness of sound; pleasing effect to the ear, esp. a pleasant sounding or harmonious combination or succession of words: the majestic euphony of Milton's poetry.

I have two releases of theirs and plan to get more. Disinterested is my favorite when it rains. A glorious post-rock perfection, the album is made with all guitar, and Matt Brown's intent was to do just that: Make ambient music with just guitar. Julia and I are in love with his record. "Disinterested" isn't exactly the most gripping name for a band. I am skeptical of the intent with that one, but perhaps Brown is "disinterested in sucking at making music?" Who knows. His music is great.

The other album is by A Lily, who is James Vella of Yndi Halda. This is the PRIME album to listen to as you go to sleep. Here's why it's better than most, according to me: It starts off very active. Perhaps you brush your teeth or fold some clothes or coo your baby to sleep before actually slipping into bed. This is when you put that on. Or maybe you read in bed for 20 minutes before you actually blow out your lantern. Perfect. A Lily has figured that out. Sonically, it's very bright and chirpy. Children chatter and get blipped into skittery rhythms. Glockenspiel plonks and guitars blink. It's very happy music, clearly written by someone in love. The last two tracks are strictly ambient, however, and comprise almost 40 minutes! Slow drifters to ensure the traffic doesn't keep you awake.

Radio Head Games II - Infant Counter-attack

"What's a bit of rain?" asked Thom Yorke. Watching Radiohead play in the rain with my wife and baby and friends rivaled many of my more emotional/tuned-in moments of recent years. I didn't even expect to go to this concert, which made it all the better. No expectations. A last minute decision to attend. Julia and I got all giddy just thinking about bringing our 5-week old baby Everest to his first show.

I had given up on getting a ticket to see Radiohead a couple months ago. I'd never seen them before and really wanted to, but after a string of communications with asshole scalpers on craigslist who were selling at twice the initial cost (see Part 1) I decided it wasn't meant to be.

But that changed when we learned that our friend Drea was coming from the Sunshine Coast to see the show. We took a look on craigslist, and wow, finally people had posted tickets online for less than a hundred. Some even went at cost or lower! Still, there were douchebags who were selling at $120 and up. So, I posted this ad:
And whaddaya know? Someone actually appreciated this humor and offered his ticket $10-cheaper at 70 bones. Nice. I went to get it wearing the yellow Radiohead slicker that Jessika gifted me last year. Success! All those fuckers on the Web who claim that "real fans" pay whatever it takes to see their favorite band can suck my balls. I am going to see Radiohead, at what it actually cost!
Sigh.

Now where's that baby?

We got Everest all dressed up, thematically, for the show. He had more Radiohead gear on than either of his parents. Plus he got in for free. First Radiohead concert at no charge. And wow, he was alert for a bunch of it, listening intently, so it seemed. At the least, he was not phased by the volume of the affair. Babies dig loud noise.

Once the rain started, we hid Everest inside our raincoats. Julia held him for an hour straight at the end of the show as we danced.

Radiohead are absolutely amazing. I had a religious experience at this show. That doesn't usually happen, but I had no expectations, Radiohead are one of the best bands operating on planet Earth, and I was with the people I love. The makings of a holy moment.
Every song was a revelation. The stage design was impeccable, with low-energy LED tubes creating a chandelier diorama. I could barely see the band. But then the video screens kicked in, and wow, I didn't need to really see them. I usually feel like I absolutely have to see the players, so I can watch how they play these songs, but I didn't care. I rose to a state of pure bliss.
They played "All I Need" and I absolutely lost control over my filters, the ones that hold my emotions at bay. This song is the song that best characterizes my love for Julia, at least in the way that I hear it. Hearing it live lifted me out of my stiff new-dad self. I started crying as I sat on our blanket, soaked with rain, watching Julia dance with Everest 20 yards away. At song's end, I bolted to their side, kissed my wife with tears in my eyes, kissed my baby, looked to the heavens as they cried into my eyes. What in the world.... This was a holy moment. So beautiful.

ANd it only got better. Every song was played so well. Radiohead has such amazing control over their live sonics, it's just astounding. "Talk Show Host" was stunning to hear. "The National Anthem" took off to a new level of awesome chaos. Everest breastfed during "Karma Police" and then fell asleep. "You and Whose Army" provided the most eerie visual moment, as a black and white camera was mounted on Thom's mic, and he stared into it with one good eye, out at the audience. I turned to Julia and said, "That was pretty good." A measured understatement.

Again, words. Useless. Don't miss Radiohead. Too incredible to miss. Honest, mind-blown reaction.



Here's the set list:

1. 15 Step
2. There There
3. Morning Bell
4. All I Need
5. Where I End And You Begin
6. Talk Show Host
7. Nude
8. Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
9. The National Anthem
10. Bangers And Mash
11. Faust Arp
12. Videotape
13. Karma Police
14. Jigsaw Falling Into Place
15. Just
16. Exit Music (For A Film)
17. Bodysnatchers

First Encore
18. House of Cards
19. Optimistic
20. You And Whose Army?
21. Planet Telex
22. Everything In Its Right Place

Second Encore
23. Reckoner
24. 2+2=5
25. Paranoid Android

Stars of the Lid and Birth

Our son was born on a nice, breezy summer evening when the setting sun cast an orange glow and the full moon lurked just behind the hills. I had assembled a bunch of music to potentially have Julia listen to and help her focus or ease stress during labor. Taiga Remains, Eluvium, Gydja, the Necks. None of this really did the trick. But, as we expected, Stars of the Lid did. Wow, is that the best music for laboring women or what?

I won't get into the details, but And Their Refinement Of The Decline is the perfect patina of subtle sound for a woman to heave and grunt her way through the most life-changing physical experience. I have to thank these two dudes from Texas who wrote this music. It would probably be pretty interesting to hear that your music served as the soundtrack to a new human being brought into the world. In fact, we haven't stopped listening to SOTL since Everest was born. It's on all the time! We never get bored of it. It suits our mood and our volume level. Julia finds that one of the songs is the perfect expression of the inexplicably calm sadness a new mother feels when her peaking hormones start to drop off the day after she gives birth.

These dreamy, slow-motion drones composed of strings, horns, piano, guitar and synthetic water really are perfectly matched for such a sensitive event. Julia and I have kept the drones going. Besides listening to SOTL and other ambient stuff, we now sing drones to our baby. Whenever he seems to be crying inexpicably or is just needing comfort, we often opt to sing a sustained note directly into his skull or ear. It often quiets him within seconds. Sometimes this sonic interference keeps Everest happy for a long time. Until he shits his pants, after which even the sweetest of Debussy's fawning flutes couldn't keep the raging discomfort at bay.

New Job!! The Silent Ballet

A couple days ago I was given the "Okay" as a writer for The Silent Ballet, a primarily-instrumental music website. It began as a post-rock-specific site in the summer of 2006 and now deals with many kinds of instrumental fair. It's gettin' diverse and ever more exciting to see what music they're getting into. Lots of material I enjoy is reviewed regularly, and of all the websites that I could write music reviews for, this is the one. Everyone who does writing for the site is pretty casual, but at the moment it feels very prestigious, especially because I get "paid" in access to insurmountable amounts of new music. The only perk I need.

Good timing, too, as this baby is going to prevent me from purchasing any new music for a while. Silent Ballet has filled that niche! I am so lucky.

Music from Mali: Tinariwen and Yoro Sidibe

Check out these two very disparate groups from Mali, one from the desert, the other from the jungle, both from completely different worlds that we barely realize exist...

Tinariwen are Touareg, a nomadic people from the desert region shared by Libya, Mali and Niger. They speak Tamasheq, one of (if not the) the oldest languages in the world (showcased in red on the album cover, here) and all their songs are in this tongue. I'd heard of them, and I was curious, and the other day in Zulu Records, Julia approached me with "Aman Iman" in her hands, excitment brimming. So we had to get it.

I didn't realize how popular they were. These dudes are from the middle of nowhere, as it were, and they've played gigs with Robert Plant, Santana (who hasn't Santana played with? That whore.), and played for Live8, that world-wide concert intent on raising money for Africa. Duh, of course they would play that show. They've been a band since 1979! Since I was a wee baby. The music is so great, rooted in blues and rock but with that desert drift and warmth that makes them impossible not to love! There's an amazing back story to the band and their founder, the man with the hair, and this video here is very educational about the music and its relation to Mali, blues and where the stories come from:


The other group from Mali I acquired is led by a man named Yoro Sidibe. There are many singers like him who lead chants for the donsos, the traditional hunters of Mali who live on the edge of society, shrouded in mystery near the jungles. I don't even think the ceremonies where these songs are performed are allowed to be video taped, but I guess audio recordings are fine by them. The songs about hunters are only to be heard by the donsos, who are encouraged by these boisterous and cyclical tribal hypno-songs (and their egos are also boosted as men like Yoro Sidibe sing about current hunters, as well as historical figures). The music is mesmerizing, dark and bright all at once highlighted by the intense vocals from our main man. Absolutely essential to know about music like this, and totally enjoyable to listen to. I couldn't find a video of Yoro Sidibe, but I did find a montage of some Mali hunter music that is very similar:

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.