While I’ve always enjoyed Grouper’s recorded work, she’s a whole other beast live. The first 15 minutes of her performance at last month’s ATP festival *slamming head on desk for not going* is nothing but the most epic nature music ever. Flying over mountains, exploring oceanic trenches – her live shit is stratospheric and aquatic. I can’t stop listening to this excerpt. Thanks WFMU for winning at everything.

You can grip the entire bootleg here.

MP3 :::
Grouper – Live @ ATP [excerpt]

And it’s bullshit! I’m off to a family reunion. I like and love my family of course (that’s an important distinction). Fam hang time is definitely a great style. But ooooh goddammit, I want to be here for this. No doubt that if you’re within a 100-mile radius of where I’m currently typing, you probably know about Siltbreeze’s Sapat, but I’ll go on and give you the skinny on all three acts, in an effort to admonish you to spend your Friday evening – this Friday evening – at Germantown’s Swan Dive.

Sapat is a local collective that features between eight and one million people (depending on the type of show), all of whom have a like-minded approach to fringe music. Sapat is a pulsating orb of eclecticism and mysticism – never cateogorizable, but always freaky, funky, and brain splattering. Sapat’s expansive beauty and unwavering experimentation is what makes Louisville amazing. They are truly a breath of fresh air. Remember that part in Amistad when they’re in the court room and the bro is all ike “give us… free!”? Sapat gives you free with every show.

The mighty Holy Mountain writes up Crazy Dreams Band better than I could, so I’ll let them do the talking. All I’ll say is that the first thing I noticed in the press photo above is Lexie Mountain sporting the infamous “hand diamond,” first utilized by the WCW’s Diamond Dallas Page right before his opponent was bested by the “Diamond Cutter,” then reappropriated by former University of Kentucky point guard Ramel Bradley when court ownage was about to commence. You know this show is going to be fuckin’ treated.

Grooves that confuse? Crazy Dreams Band is an outfit that presents its guitar free “thug pop” of dirge rather than drone with creeping crooning and brassless horn blasts [note: Crazy Dreams Band will actually have a guitarist in tow at this show --ed.]. Like the best of Giallo films you’ll be as turned on as you are terrified. As tender as Coco Rosie, as brutal as Magik Markers and as cool as Royal Trux “Radio/ Video” vibe. Imagine if Bruce Springsteen and Martin Rev collaborated on songs for Patti Smith or Catherine Ribeiro. Channeled inner voices are expelled as cave anthems into neon text in Linear A while bones poke through the skin atop a witch’s brew of venomous sludge. This is the urban tribal music that survives whatever “end is nigh” theory you choose. They’re jamming this music outside the thunder dome, beneath the planet of the apes and the day after tomorrow. CRAZY DREAMS BAND has released one self-titled album on Holy Mountain, and features members of Lexie Mountain Band, Harrius, Religious Knives, and Mouthus.

If Jana Hunter isn’t a name you heretofore recognize, now’s the time to change that. Jana Hunter has been a callaborator with groups like Indian Jewelry and Castanets, and has toured with flawless hometown hero Tara Jane O’Neil and Cocorosie. To quote Walter Sobchak, this young lady is “not exactly a lightweight.” Her goregous, sparse, midtempo dusty rides through dark deserts lit by twilight should enthrall fans of Grouper who wish she would give caffeiene a try every now and again.

If you go, and take photos/videos, please send them my way. I will give you the credit, a link, and a high five. Send ‘em to kb [at] thedecibeltolls (dot) com, playa.

Sapat, Crazy Dreams Band, and Jana Hunter
Friday, August 28
Doors at 9 p.m. / $5 / 21+
Swan Dive, Louisville (map that shizz)

MP3 :::
Crazy Dreams Band – Separate Ways
Jana Hunter – Completely Golden
Sapat – Dark Silver

I love well assembled folk music, but too many bros and broettes fuck it up royally. So while Out Like Lambs, the duo of Rachel Ade and Michael Lucio Sternbach, might seem familiar, they’re undeniably refreshing. My experience in New Jersey is limited mainly to Hoboken and Jersey City, which are not necessarily the most picturesque places I’ve seen. But I have to imagine that Out Like Lambs’ home of Ocean Grove is a rather scenic, historically rich, and spiritual millieu in order to birth such gorgeous, fanciful torch ballads and dedications to nature and love. Man, I’m really sounding like a hippie these days…

The group’s wide instrumentation is deeply evocative of The Incredible String Band and their vast arsenal of instrumentation. As a matter of fact, 17 guest musicians helped provide horns, woodwinds, and strings. My favorite track, “Bygones,” brings forth traditional Anglo folk in the vein of Liege & Lief era Fairport Convention. The ornate “Downstream,” with its drastic but constrained mood shifts, should excite any Akron/Family fan looking for something a little less schizophrenic. Their eponymous four-track EP will be available soon, but in the meantime, go see about their nice website adorned with antique photography (which I’m a huge fan of).

For fans of:  Charalambides, The Incredible String Band, Akron/Family, Angels of Light

MP3 :::
Out Like Lambs – Bygones

Totally stoked to bring in Detroit’s psych/shoegaze/kraut machine Oblisk with visionary freak folk noodler R. Keenan Lawler and Louisville’s Softcheque, featuring members of Sapat. This is an all ages show at the funky Derby City Espresso. See you there, dorks!

MP3 :::
Oblisk – Beirut
R Keenan Lawler – Live on ‘Phoning It In,’ WELH Providence

Only a few years into his career, understated folk alchemist Stephen Wilkinson aka Bibio already has three stellar full-lengths under his belt. That’s a tall order to add on, especially considering the most recent one dropped a couple months ago, but I guess Wilkinson doesn’t sleep, because his next installment is already prepped to go. In hindsight, you could look at this spring’s Vignetting the Compost as the final word a trilogy of albums, because having perfected his blend of folk, ambient electronica, and other lush antiquities into a seemingly effortless recipe, Wilkinson makes a crossover bid towards synthetic wilderness on Ambivalence Avenue.

This debut for Warp Records (where Wilkinson can now release music beside his heroes the Boards of Canada), is built around the same aesthetics of past albums, but then chopped and chewed into both awe struck and knee-jerked forms of electronica, glitch-hop, folk/funk, and straight dance. He is not afraid to flex his production skills like on the Dilla/Prefuse inspired “Fire Ant”, which marries his love of IDM and ambient nostalgia into a seriously soulful crowd-pleaser. If anyone picked up Bibio’s remix of Wax Stag’s “Folk Rock”, you have a pretty good idea of what the up-tempo segments of this album will sound like.

But then again it wouldn’t really be a Bibio release without some textural ADD, and there are a few interjections of his singer-songwriter persona throughout, like the frail warble of “The Palm of Your Wave”. Individually, these songs are all evidence of a high point in Wilkinson’s adventurous output, but when you put them side to side it’s difficult to imagine a similar creator, with a few exceptions. “Cry! Baby!” makes a strong case that Wilkinson has a concrete vision for integrating his folk arraignments into an IDM platform. Of course, with the title Ambivalence Avenue, it’s obvious that this album was intended to be an exploration of the contrasts and compliments of these disparate genres.

Other points of interest include the howling lo-fi banger “Jealous of Roses” that sounds like the alumni of an Ariel Pink-run class on funk classics, and “S’Vive” which if it had only come out a few months earlier could’ve been a contender for the now-announced Warp20 tracklisting, boasting a euphoric Hudson Mohawke-esque spindle of glitchy drums and tweaked vocal snippets.

We’ve been a believer in Bibio for a long time now and we haven’t had to eat our words yet. This LP isn’t as conceptually dense as Fi or Hand Cranked, but basically, your car’s stereo is fiendin’ for this album, and even the pop-oriented segments can’t escape being colored by Wilkinson’s warm psychedelic leanings.

Ambivalence Avenue is out June 22nd on Warp Records.

Oh, and just for kicks/reference, here’s a vid of Bibio dusting off his MPC back in 2007 under his Duckular project:

MPC chopping

MP3 :::
Bibio – Fire Ant
Bibio – Cry! Baby!

My editor at LEO Weekly runs the label Karate Body Records, and they’re getting ready to drop a gorgeous vinyl 10″ by Bonnie Prince Billy called Among the Gold. Though fresh off the Beware publicity storm, the prolific and mercurial Oldham is never one to stay idle for too long.  The six-song release is a collaboration with Cheyenne Mize of adventurous Louisville folk collective Arnett Hollow – and it’s an authentic historical jaunt.

Oldham and Mize dust off some antique torch ballads, dirges, and steamboat folk written between 1873 and 1915, and claim them all as their own. Though the music is undeniably the touch of Oldham, the melody and intimacy of old American standards and duets is perfectly preserved and documented with delicate prowess.

This is a limited edition record, so if you want one, head over to KBR pretty soon to grip your pre-order.

MP3 :::
Bonnie Prince Billy & Cheyenne Mize – Silver Threads
Bonnie Prince Billy & Cheyenne Mize – Beautiful Dreamer

Some critics tend to take issue with an artist who lacks continuity on record. They may attack the artist for having some shade of a messy identity crisis. They might feel that a body of recorded work should be a cohesive submersion into an aurally cultivated landscape. I am not that sort of critic.

Sure, there’s a lot to say about continuity. An album such as, say, Lotus Plaza’s The Floodlight Collective is a great example of a cohesive record that sticks to a particular song structure and sonic timbre, and does it in a well-crafted fashion. However, there’s a fine line between cohesion and repetition or lack of inspiration. There’s also a fine line between ecclecticity and clusterfuck. Akron/Family, with the forthcoming Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free, very intelligently carves an eclectic, surprising record that is not afraid to experiment with disparate genres – almost to an alarming level. It’s a textbook example of experimental music for people who might not like experimental music.

Akron/Family have dropped the freak from their freak folk flag, and in its place, introduced 11 remarkable tracks that explore every corner of cosmic American music – torch ballads to bucolic dirges, country rock to atmospheric anthems, sunshine pop and grating noise, Television and the Byrds, Sun City Girls and Sun Ra. Does this sound interesting to you? It should, Set Em Wild, Set Em Free is utterly imaginative.

“Everyone is Guilty,” the album’s opener, masterfully combines funk and post-punk. For a psych folk group, that’s pretty insane. From there, next track “River” provokes a sunshine-drenched subdued pop song with a twang. Eno-informed electronic flourishes swell and subside, as well as steel guitar and horn arrangements. It’s obvious that the Akron/Family loves music with no restrictions, plain and simple. What’s most surprising, aside from the genre jumping, is that fact that the group’s downsizing from a revolving roster to a trio yielded their most expansive album to date.

Now jump to “MBF” in the second half of the record. What begins as Steve Albini rock turns into a self-destructive porous membrane of sonic intensity that could fit very nicely on a Wolf Eyes or Prurient record.  The structurally loose “Sun Will Shine (Warmth of the Sunship Version” is another highlight. This track is the closest resemblance to the group’s last effort Love is All, yet maintains the consistency of maturation and playfulness that makes Set Em Wild, Set Em Free so remarkable.  The almost eight-minute “Gravelly Mountains of the Moon” is the real gem, though – a bombastic technicolor psychedelic anthem stocked with vast instrumentation and a pulsating over-the-horizon melodic quality. I like Akron/Family, but I didn’t see that one coming.

I can see the pure ambition of Set Em Wild, Set Em Free to possibly be a point of contention among critics and fans. I hope not. Set Em Wild, Set Em Free is smart and psychotic, almost refreshing to a fault, and showcases a band who has absolutely no comfort zone. Akron/Family have proven themselves to be pretty much fearless, and as a consequence, are propelled to a level much higher than simply another good offering from New Weird America. While some might find the record unlistenable at times, anyone with a relative appreciation of music and how it evolved should be compelled to give Set Em Wild, Set Em Free a fair shot, at least to hear an example of a truly brave and crafty collective.

Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free hits the streets on May 5 and is available for pre-order on Dead Oceans.

Fagen-Becker Quality Rating

MP3 :::
Akron/Family – Gravelly Mountains of the Moon
Akron/Family – MBF

Last Tuesday, Stephen Wilkinson, better known as Bibio, finally released his 3rd full-length Vignetting the Compost on Mush Records. I’ve been feverishly awaiting this album since rumors of it first began circulating last fall, making due with the tease of his absurdly intricate Clark remix from 2007’s Ted EP. If you’ve never checked out Bibio before (I forgive you in advance) this is a great opportunity to get acquainted, because here he makes good on all the potential his past recordings hinted at.

Bibio took his moniker from the fly lure his Father would use during their outdoor excursions together, and the rest is history. Having studied “sonic arts” in college, and being an avid electronica fan, it’s obvious that his unexpected output is equally influenced by the native geography of those fishing trips. Wilkinson grew up in Black Country, England, and pays homage to this lore-soaked land with his idyllic sound-scapes (and dope Flickr account). In fact, this album is so made for outdoor listening that it pains me to hear this knowing fully well that it’s 23 below outside so I can’t go scrape Pippi Bongstockings and frolic to the nearest woods.

Upon the release of his first album Fi in 2004, Bibio was famously championed by his long-time heroes the Boards of Canada as being “the antidote to the modern laptopia of pristine electronic music,” (no pressure, dude). A hefty claim, but Fi certainly did carve out a unique spot in Mush’s roster. Less akin to the modern process meditations of Fennesz and Tim Hecker, Wilkinson reached further back to channel the likes of John Fahey and his protégé Leo Kottke in achieving his signature wall of sound. The opener in particular, “Bewley in White,” plays like a smudged out-take from the more tender moments of Kottke’s 6 and 12-String Guitar.

Emerging from the haze with 2006’s Hand Cranked, the wagon-drawn pace picks up speed. The ambient interludes that comprised half his debut are omitted in favor of a bustling mix of phased acoustic picking and parlor-style piano. On “Above the Rooftop,” Wilkinson drops the guitar and tickles the cracked ivory keys exclusively, narrating some turn-of-the-century river town’s morning commute.

Vignetting the Compost successfully negotiates the territories of his two previous efforts with dense polyphonic riffs that both compliment and antagonize each other, quavering like an over-cranked machine. It is on this album that we learn of Wilkinson’s vocal abilities, which fit snugly between 60’s folk-rock and contemporary warblers like Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy. The album’s single, “Mr. & Mrs. Compost,” even hints at singer-songwriting prowess, with his voice confidently navigating the horizontal growth of his stark finger picking.

Wilkinson’s love-affair with electronic music does bleed in as the album progresses, but never takes the foreground. His electronica influence rests like a thin layer of emulsion atop the sepia-toned guitar waltzes.  The album’s charm is in it’s humble ambition, and while it hints at the transcendental, Bibio is much more concerned with earthly comforts. On “Amongst the Bark and Fungus,” the contrast between the sharp twang of the guitar and the muffled synths create a deeply Proustian, womb-like sensation enhanced by a strong emphasis on location recording, and application of background atmospherics, that create a delicate room noise to frame the compositions, or as the album suggests, vignettes.

Vignetting the Compost is available now on Mush’s web-store. Also, be on the lookout for the follow-up EP, Ovals & Emeralds, to drop sometime in the near-ish future.

MP3 :::
Bibio – Mr. & Mrs. Compost
Bibio – Thatched

Any discussion of white boys playing the blues generally has to involve a purist going on about how “derivative” or “inauthentic” it is with frequent references to long-dead always obscure bluesmen with claims that they were the originals.

But, once you face the reality that everything and everyone is somehow a product of influences and predecessors, the argument fizzles. Just bring up the fact that Wallace Willis, a Native American, wrote Swing Low, Sweet Chariot back in the mid 19^th century and then walk away from the blank stares.  In reality it was the adaptation of that tune by the Jubilee Singers that made it a timeless classic. I’ve made my point so let me put the lid back on this can of worms before it turns into a Ken Burns project.

The lesson my friends is to appreciate the music for what it is rather than trying to DNA test it for lineage. It’s the serendipitous melding of experiences and influences that keeps music fresh. While I like Mozart and all, I’d be pretty disappointed if we hadn’t moved on to other things in the last 300 or so years.

By this time you’re all thinking, ok I’m with you but… who is Dr. Hoffmann and where does Bo fit into this?

Dr. Albert Hoffmann, aside from being a loving husband and father, was the inventor and first consumer of LSD back in 1943. It was the same year a teenaged Bo Diddley was playing Chicago street corners for tips. These two seemingly unrelated events would turn out to combine in one of the greatest accidental unions since chocolate met peanut butter.

Some 20 years later, pasty-faced suburban teens in England would stumble onto Dr. Hoffmann’s miracle drug, the advent of which was heralded by the 1966 single, £SD, by The Pretty Things. While you may not have heard of them, you may know guitarist Dick Taylor’s previous gig – the Rolling Stones. Taking their name – and influence – from Bo Diddley and his 1956 hit, Pretty Thing, the band wore the blues on their shirt sleeves (and a blotter on their tongues). The late ‘60s was exploding with soulful crooners backed by 12 bars of guitar, a Hammond B3 and a heavy drug habit.

Joining Dick Taylor in the Bad Timing Hall of Fame is Terry Reid who turned down an offer to be the vocalist in Jimmy Page’s post-Yardbirds project. Having already committed to go on tour as the opening act for the Stones in ‘69, Reid recommended a guy by the name of Robert Plant and the rest is history. Reid did go on to put out some amazing work but only he knows whether it’s sufficient solace for missing out on being a part of rock’s supergods. Check out his cover of Donovan’s Superlungs My Supergirl.

On this side of the pond, bands like Captain Beefheart were reinventing the delta sound on tracks like Sure ‘Nuff ‘N Yes I Do and Diddley’s own Diddy Wah Diddy. Austin’s 13^th Floor Elevators were pioneering the garage psych sound before going true psychedelic with Roky Erickson’s hospitalization. Van Vliet seemed to escape with his sanity and went on to call acid, “overrated aspirin and very similar to old people’s Disneyland.”

With the 1970’s came the golden age of progressive rock where musical genres melted together like your collection of old LPs in the attic. The movement ultimately imploded under the pretentious weight of such bloated arena monsters as Rush and ELP and the onslaught of concept albums and rock operas. Inevitably this is the part of the conversation where someone brings up The Wall or Tommy. Which is also the point at which I respond with Kilroy Was Here and Bob Dylan’s Saved. There is always that moment when a movement becomes too big, overextends itself (think Madonna’s acting career), and ultimately gets smacked down in a merciful act of musical Darwinism.

Later bands would eschew (love that word) the falsettos and string sections like Claw Hammer – named after the Beefheart tune – stripping things down to the basics with blues harmonica and a hardcore edge. Beck’s landmark album, Odelay, opens Hotwax with slide guitar and a blues shuffle while reaching back to sample Them’s version of It’s All Over Now Baby Blue for Jack-ass. Jon Spencer Blues Explosion went so far as to collaborate with R.L. Burnside on A Ass Pocket of Whisky and The Black Keys put out an entire album’s worth of Junior Kimbrough covers with Chulahoma. The white boy blues were back.

Even something like the folky guitar intro and Robert Pollard’s faux-Brit lilt in Boston Spaceships’ Go For the Exit conjure up hallucinations of 1968. The only disappointment of having so deeply incorporated past influences into the current vibe is the tendency to sometimes overlook the origins of the sound.

I happened to turn on the television the other day to hear the unmistakable riff from Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus being kidnapped by some vapid fluff bunny who turned out to be Hillary Duff. If I have one pet peeve with respect to influences, it’s the neither fish nor fowl approach where the song isn’t exact enough to be a cover but not deviant enough to be considered original work. Duff completes the trifecta of creating a shit song by adding a gratuitous rap for crossover appeal and then releasing umpteen remixes of a song which is already essentially a remix.

Let me redirect before I get all depressed about the current state of music. It’s not entirely true that every song has been written. Someone at some time has done something similar, but the measure of true artistry is in synthesizing past talents in a unique way. It’s not much different than cooking. How many recipes include flour, sugar and butter as the main ingredients? But would you flog a chef for relying on such a foundation? I prefer my dessert delicious rather than completely original at the expense of taste. Likewise with my music.

As an aside, I’m not Ken Burns and the above wasn’t at all intended to be comprehensive in the least. One of these days I’ll get around to the 14 hour PBS mini-series but for now this is what you get. Enjoy.

MP3 :::
The Pretty Things – LSD
Terry Reid – Superlungs My Super Girl
13th Floor Elevators – Levitation
Captain Beefheart – Sure ‘Nuff ‘N Yes I Do
Beck – Hotwax
Boston Spaceships – Go For the Exit

I just found out that nordic beasts The Legendary Pink Dots quietly released a new full-length very recently called Plutonium Blonde.  And as you can expect, like contemporaries Lilys and Psychic TV, they’re still all over the place.  Plutonium Blonde features it all: psychedelia, noise, and hell, even a few dance ditties.

Though they’ve yet to really release what could be considered their magnum opus, the Dots have never released a bad album.  You can expect surprises and gems in every slice. I preferred the folk-slanted chanties on the Dots’ latest, and have included them for your consideration.  The Holy Modal Rounders-esque demented and kaleidoscopic circus pop of “Faded Photograph” is classic Legendary Pink Dots, and a good insight as to where Animal Collective imagined Danse Manitee.  They’ve still got some dates left on their fall North American tour, and you can find ‘em herrrre.

MP3 :::
Legendary Pink Dots – A World With No Mirrors
Legendary Pink Dots – Mailman
Legnedary Pink Dots – Faded Photograph