I was really stoked on czechin’ the new Lindsey Buckingham joint the other night, as L-Train and I are both huge Fleetwood Mac fans.  And after listening, we were very sad about it.  Now that Lindsey isn’t scoring blow and beating up his girlfriends, his tunes are slowly waning in smooth rock quality.  I don’t even remember what it sounds like now, my mind has repressed that shit really fast.  My brain’s fast like fast actin’ Tenactin.

So I was in a very bad way before pumping proper on the new Magik Markers jam hive.  It’s a recently dropped, limited release, comically titled EP called Gucci Rapidshare Download, part of Three Lobed Recordings’ Oscillations III series (with artwork by my friend Robert Beatty). Within two minutes, I had endorphins kickin’ in, the spunk came back, and I was in such a good mood, I was ready to rake some of my neighbors’ leaves as a random act of kindness. 

“There Is No Path Which Is Not Straight” is really gorgeous. The Raymond Scott-esque atomic age pinging space sounds replete with rich, jazzy percussion provokes Basil Kirchen at his least chaotic.  The first two minutes submerge you in silky ambient textures, and then it kicks in straight kraut style. The rhythmic punch of this number hits so hard that I’m going to pick up some Icy Hot while waiting in the breadline this evening.  Fluttering, melodic vocal chants and motorik timekeeping act impervious to all the swells of dissonance around (thanks to amplified violins in the vein of Burning Star Core).  This is a remarkable track.

“The Place Where What Has Been Taken Is Returned” is more sparse and gutteral, but certainly structured.  As mentioned, Magik Markers have adopted a serious smokey jazz vibe to their usual brainfuck psychedelic. The beautiful vocal harmonies, melodic tone, slight psych approach, and rock-it-till-it-collapses composition actually evoke sort of a noise-damaged Yo La Tengo or a gentler Bardo Pond.  I don’t think either comparison is a stretch.

This is some the finest output from Magik Markers yet. But you don’t have to take my word for it…

Anyway, you can grip this EP and other good stuff by subscribing to Three Lobed.  Do it!  And pass the hashish, por favor.

MP3 :::
Magik Markers – There is No Path Which is Not Straight
Magik Markers – The Place Where What Has Been Taken Is Return

You’re more than welcome, of course, to read my additional commentary on this matter, but if you just want the gist of it, all you need to know is that Hush Arbors‘ new eponymous record is a scorcher!  It laid my ghetto blaster to waste.

I already expected Keith Wood’s (a.k.a. Hush Arbors) debut for Ecstatic Peace to valiantly score from the three-point line. I had a chance to see him play a great opening set for pal and collaborator Six Organs of Admittance circa late 2005, so I thought I understood what I was getting into. Turns out I was wrong. I did not expect Hush Arbors, just released Tuesday, to be a comprehensively destructive force of mysticism replete with melodic beauty and modal explorations.

Hush Arbors, as far as the whole freak folk/New Weird America thing goes (I begrudgingly use this term), has always struck me as the obvious choice for ambassador of the aforementioned movement, as he offers the perfect median point for the disparate sounds found therein. Wood’s take on psychedelic folk demonstrates that it is not necessarily his intent to destroy strong structures, nor is it his intent to play it straightforward and traditional. However, Hush Arbors has gone above and beyond comparison to similar artists. It’s no longer fair to say “this is a great offering from the New Weird America camp,” it’s only befitting to describe this self-titled record as a monumental collection of music that stands up against any album, anywhere. I’m not trying to overhype this really, but Hush Arbors rules so hard. Hush Arbors’ adventurous, wide-ranging sonic paintbrush invokes the past whilst thrusting the very notion of folk rock into future territories. In short, Keith Wood just dropped the type of album that separates the men from the boys.

As a contributing member of Six Organs of Admittance (not to mention Current 93, Wooden Wand, Sunburned Hand of the Man), you certainly hear the familiar Fahey-esque, drone note heavy guitar noodling that defines the Organs’ catalog through each and every track on Hush Arbors. But the riff-heavy structures only accent the music, never existing as the sole focal point. These are well written, melodic, solid songs – simple enough to hum along, layered enough to overload your headphone technology and melt your brain. Also different than Six Organs is that Hush Arbors keeps his weirdness prominent and economical. Whereas contemporaries Ben Chasny and MV & EE like to break down into drone examinations and take lengthy journeys down sunken catacombs, Hush Arbors keeps his ideas contained within fairly concise, brightly colored, accessible songwriting. The album’s rollicking psychedelic folk, with vintage AM radio influences like classic Mayall-style R&B and Byrds-helmed feel good bucolic flourishes, is a shapeshifting exercise in sonically diverse, cosmically dense, warmly welcoming electric folk. “Water II,” as the name suggests, truly sounds like an ultra-distorted sea chanty. “Sand” is reminiscent of Wooden Wand’s intimacy and pensive acoustic melodies, yet ropes in vast tracts of almost-orchestral swells and cultivates a far-reaching, voluminous sonic landscape that soars to a sweeping crescendo in the following “The Light.”

But “Rue Hollow”…

Oh snap, “Rue Hollow.” You are very rarely treated to folk music of this nature, of this caliber, these days. Fans of Fairport Convention – here’s a missing track from What We Did On Our Holidays, except that Hush Arbors made it, not the Thompsons. You might not tell the difference, though. “Rue Hollow” is absolutely gorgeous, spacious folk in the vein of Fairport Convention’s torch songs and classical Anglo-folk canticles, baked to perfection by Mr. Wood. Crisp, autumnal acoustic guitar and ethereal, resonant vocals committed to dusted-off warm tape launches “Rue Hollow” in the exosphere, where it won’t come down until mankind mandates a cease-and-desist on its bullshit.

I feel puny and stupid in the awesome expanse of Hush Arbors’ new joint. This is a heartfelt call-to-action: buy this here. Fuck Chinese Democracy, this is Hush Arbors’ time, as far as I’m concerned.

MP3 :::
Hush Arbors – Rue Hollow
Hush Arbors – Sand
Hush Arbors – Water II

Of course it’s no surprise that the new Religious Knives full-length is good. Like Smuckers, if it says Ecstatic Peace on the label, it has to be good. With that said, The Door is still a nice surprise, considering how different it sounds from Resin released earlier this year (though the latter is a collection of older material and some live renditions).

The most noticeable and significant difference between The Door and Religious Knives’ earlier drone trips is that the band, sometime between then and now, got really funky. This is established in the first few seconds of opening brain burner “Downstairs.” If the low end were of a higher tempo, you could easily lay it against a blaxploitation film score. No foolin’.

It’s a strange funkiness too: serious, fluid bass grooves at a slow, steady tempo reinforce the walls of a Loop-meets-Jackie O Motherfucker gale of hazy, foreboding fuzz squall that remains sparse and powerful. Combined this with smoky pipe organ, crystalline chants, and tribal percussion, and Religious Knives whisk you away on a very gnarly (in a good way) magical mystery tour. Religious Knives have also boosted the vocals in the mix and staved off a lot of the usual reverb. This has been a point of contention among a few of the early reviews for The Door, with some critics writing that the prominent vocals showcase a bored, detached quality. To me, though, Religious Knives’ approach to the vocals on this album help separate them from many other artists firmly planted in psychedelia. By making a stern attempt toward a different method of production, as opposed to liberally applying the typical reverb and pan treatment as most artists who make this type of music tend to do, The Door carves out a very distinct niche and yields a rewarding listening experience.

“The Storm,” despite its name, is one of the more subdued moments on The Door, and one of the best. The group makes brilliant use of space – the wide open chasm between measures provide more of a ominous mood than even the most sinister of minor chords. Shortly after “The Storm,” the volume cranks, dense layers of fuzz poke through, and the tempo is upped for The Door’s closing remarks, “Major Score” and “Decisions Are Made,” providing a sharp contrast to the album’s first half and slinging one more surprise your way. Moody and cavernous, The Door is, seriously, best enjoyed with the lights lowered. I know that sounds corny, but it’s true. I understood the album more profoundly in the dark than the daylight.

Though The Door doesn’t necessarily chart new territory, Religious Knives have demonstrated that they can try new directions without straying too far from the general sonic cathedral they’ve built. It’s a hard balance to strike, and one the group has proven they do well, and as such, Religious Knives are certainly a collective to get excited about whenever they release new material. Hopefully, with their newfound home on Ecstatic Peace, that will be often.

If you like what you hear below, go on and grip The Door directly from the label for an extremely reasonable price.

MP3 :::
Religious Knives – The Storm
Religious Knives – Decisions Are Made