An anachronism is the representation of someone as existing or something as happening in other than chronological, proper, or historical order, or one that is out of its proper or chronological order, especially a person or practice that belongs to an earlier time. The song Girl Anachronism was written by Amanda Palmer, who was half of The Dresden Dolls, and it relates to how she often feels out of place. In our interview with Amanda Palmer, she told us: "My mother had a superstition about numbers, so she wanted me to be born on an even day of an even month. And the surgery was slated for an odd day of an odd month, so she moved it back. Just a couple of days. I think the surgery was slated for May 1st, and she moved it to April 30th. And there was nothing unhealthy about it. The doctor was like, 'Yeah, sure.' Got a couple of days here or there, it really doesn't change anything. But I always thought that was a great poetic excuse for lopsidedness."
Regarding the lyrics, "Accidentally on purpose," Palmer explains: "that was an actual snarky remark that my parents used to make to me when I was a kid any time I hurt myself. Like if I fell down the stairs or if I came home with scrapes and bruises, they would roll their eyes and say, 'Oh, sure that was an accident – accidentally on purpose.' And I would go, 'No, really! I fuckin' ate it on the sidewalk!' And it bent my head in a strange way, because when you're a kid, your intuition is saying, Well, that's not true, that's not right. But then you're constantly second-guessing, because the adults know which way the wind's blowing. So I was really twisted about what my intentions were as I was growing up, and I never trusted myself. I never trusted my own instincts and my own intentions, especially when it came to attention-getting. Because I felt trapped in this strange narcissistic hole where I knew I liked attention, but I was taught that it was a very bad, naughty thing to want it. So I was coming out of a very warped space for a long time before I sorted out my own stuff, which was the better part of my teens and 20s. That line is a reference to all that stuff." From: https://www.songfacts.com/facts/the-dresden-dolls/girl-anachronism
DIVERSE AND ECLECTIC FUN FOR YOUR EARS - 60s to 90s rock, prog, psychedelia, folk music, folk rock, world music, experimental, avant-garde, doom metal, strange and creative music videos, deep cuts and more!
Friday, January 10, 2025
The Dresden Dolls - Girl Anachronism
The Monkees - Daily Nightly
After making most of the album Headquarters on their own, the Monkees broadened their outlook for their fourth album, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd., bringing in select session players to assist them in recording. This album marked several changes for the group, the most immediately noticeable being Mike Nesmith's increased vocal contributions. He sings lead on five of the album's tracks, while Mickey Dolenz, the band's previously dominant lead vocalist, sang only three. But what a trio of tunes! Mickey memorably voiced 'Pleasant Valley Sunday,' another hit from the pens of Goffin & King and one with surprisingly sharp social commentary. Climbing to #3 on the pop charts, it featured a blazing, 'Paperback Writer'-style guitar riff that fit seamlessly alongside the other rock hits of the day. The single's B-side, 'Words,' also with a Dolenz lead vocal, became a hit as well.
Beyond his voice, Dolenz significantly contributed to the sessions by bringing a Moog synthesizer into the studio, one of the first twenty ever produced. This made Pisces one of the first, perhaps THE first, rock album to include the Moog. It was featured to great effect on Mickey's third lead vocal track, 'Daily Nightly.' This adventurous spirit proved contagious, making Pisces one of the most fully-realized albums in the group's career. In addition to recording songs written by their usual songwriters, songs from up and coming pop composers like Harry Nilsson, Michael Martin Murphy and Jeff Barry were also included.
As previously mentioned, Nesmith stepped to the vocal fore on this release, notably on the soaring Mann/Weill composition 'Love is Only Sleeping.' A hypnotic song in trippy 7/4 time, it is one of the Monkees' finest recorded moments. Originally intended to be a single, it remains one of their most admired album cuts and was featured in three separate episodes of the television show. Another Nesmith-led track, the country rock showcase 'What Am I Doing Hangin' Round',' delightfully foreshadowed the direction he would later take on his solo recordings with the First (and Second) National Band. The album's closer, 'Star Collector,' is a decidedly adult take on the subject of groupies and an indication that the band had grown weary of squeaky clean, bubblegummed themes.
The album's title refers to the astrological signs of the four members. Since both Nesmith and Davy Jones were Capricorns (and both share a December 30th birthdate), the '& Jones Ltd.' tag was added to avoid confusion. The album's front cover artwork, an illustration by Bernard Yezsin, features four blank-faced band figures staring out over a sea of colored flowers, with the Monkees' logo half-hidden among the flora. An apparent homage to the cover of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band released earlier that year, it was another deliberate signal that the Monkees were a real band, ready to be judged amongst their peers. From: https://www.bear-family.com/monkees-the-pisces-aquarius-capricorn-jones-ltd.-180g.html?srsltid=AfmBOopsN8K54mZZZ_U2mM3H_xIPoXem28SwMb4aHTvVe6p2kedmzm0z
Two Minutes to Late Night - Foreplay/Long Time (Boston cover)
The ball has dropped on 2020, but as we forge ahead with renewed vigor and a steely resolve, it can be difficult to appreciate the full extent of how this ongoing pandemic upended every aspect of our culture. The music world saw big names succumb to COVID, from the recent passing of country singer Charlie Pride, to Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne, to the legendary singer-songwriter John Prine. But for every big name that passed, for every megastar that had to cancel globe-spanning tours, there are countless others who grind out a living as touring musicians that were crippled by the closures of smaller clubs, not to mention the millions employed at those venues.
Musicians had to find new ways to stay connected to their audiences. Many livestreamed solo performances from inside their closets over social media, or on Zoom shows organized by promoters of shuttered clubs and even local libraries. While these shows were far more intimate than watching a full band at a crowded bar, there is only so much one performer can do in front of a webcam. I’m no computer expert (all I know is that the World Wide Web is a series of tubes), but it is mystifying to me that technology can instantly apply a camera filter to your face to make you look like a chicken nugget, but is unable to adequately account for audio lag to allow people to remotely play music together, in real-time, over the interwebs. And some genres of music do not lend themselves to quiet acoustic renditions of songs performed by a single person surrounded by their sweaters.
I listened to a lot of heavy metal in 2020, as Unwinnable’s honcho Stu Horvath and I embarked on an Iron Maiden podcast. It’s the best Iron Maiden podcast (hosted by two longtime friends from Kearny, New Jersey) out there, in my humble opinion, but listening to all that metal made me appreciate that it is a genre that cannot easily thrive in the brave new world of coronavirus living. Thanks to being a long-time fan and social media follower of Brooklyn metal club St. Vitus, though, I discovered, early on in the shutdown, the greatest thing going in heavy metal in the year of our (demon)Lord 2020 – Two Minutes to Late Night’s Bedroom Cover series.
Two Minutes to Late Night (“2M2LN”) is an exuberant heavy metal themed spoof of a late-night talk show that is as DIY and devoted to the artists it showcases as the club where it started, St. Vitus. Hosted by Gwarsenio Hall and featuring Kevin the Sound Guy, a.k.a. comedians and co-creators Jordan Olds and Drew Kaufman, 2M2LN manages to thread the very narrow needle of being fun and silly and metal as fuck all at once. One kickass Bedroom Cover of “Rocket Queen” by Guns N’ Roses finds Gwarsenio being handed a cup of tea mid-song. As he sips from the mug, his pained shrieks at the too hot liquid stand in for Axl’s signature ooohs and yeows. Funny isn’t a word often associated with metal. It’s a genre known as much for being self-serious and dark as it is for the utterly illegible fonts used in the logos of its bands. Yet, 2M2LN reveals that heavy metal has plenty of funny and engaging performers who are eager to laugh at themselves and the over-the-top nature of metal’s image.
When the pandemic hit, both St. Vitus and 2M2LN wasted no time in addressing the challenge head-on. St. Vitus launched a hugely successful Kickstarter to support the bar and its employees, and on March 18th, 2M2LN posted its first Bedroom Cover of “Weird Al” Yankovic’s Devo-inspired masterpiece, “Dare to Be Stupid.” It features 2M2LN co-star Stephen Brodsky of the show’s “house band” Mutoid Man, Nadia Kontogiannis of Dead Temple as a mustachioed Elvira character, Weird Al Vira, and members of Khemmis and Thou playing along with the ludicrously talented Olds. The video displays the strange mix of joyful energy and rippin’ rock that makes the talk show so engaging. Whatever metal mystique is lost by seeing a guitarist shred your face off from a corner of their cramped NYC apartment is more than made up for by the “Metal Stars – They’re Just Like Us” quality of glimpsing into the performers’ very normal looking homes. This allows the well-produced videos to achieve a certain level of intimacy, similar to the solo shows many other, far quieter, musicians have been doing.
Since that first effort, 2M2LN has released a new cover video weekly, totaling 36 installments to date. The song choices cover a broad range of music, from Steely Dan’s “Reelin’ in the Years” to The Misfits’ “Earth A.D.” (with a particularly surprising guest performer). The latest video is a parody of Elton John’s “Step Into Christmas” featuring Gwar entitled “Stab Into Christmas.” It’s as magical as you’d expect. As a bonus, the show has good politics. They released a cover of Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name” played by all non-white performers in support of defunding the police, and the aforementioned holiday cover features the excellent lyrics, “Stab into Christmas / Let’s kill a landlord / We’ll make him sit on a machine gun bidet!” God bless us everyone, indeed. From: https://unwinnable.com/2021/01/03/two-minutes-to-late-night-bedroom-covers/
Primus - Mr. Krinkle
"Mr. Krinkle" is Faith No More drummer Mike Bordin, who used that name as an alias when he checked into hotels. Primus frontman Les Claypool, who wrote the lyric, told Greg Prato: "The thing about Mike, he is one of these guys like Mike Watt - he has a very interesting perspective on things, and he's really good at tossing out these colorful little quips on how he perceives things. So we would have these great conversations on the phone. That's what 'Mr. Krinkle' is all about." The line, "Seems the rumors are about your team might move away" refers to the San Francisco Giants, who were considering a move to Tampa. Mike Bordin ("Mr. Krinkle"), a huge Giants fan, was not happy about it. Primus was at the peak of their popularity when they released this song on their third album, Pork Soda. "Alternative" music was big, but even in that genre, Primus was on the fringe and rarely got airplay on commercial radio. But there was a big market for these strange sounds and a festival to showcase it: Lollapalooza. Primus headlined in 1993 and included "Mr. Krinkle" in their sets. This is a rare rock song with a double bass as lead instrument, played by Les Claypool. To avoid bringing the unwieldy instrument on the road, he would perform the song by using a bow on his electric bass. Mark Kohr, who did most of the Primus videos in the '90s, directed this one, which is quite a feat of film-making. Done in a San Francisco warehouse, it's a one-shot video with acrobats, contortionists, dancers and other oddities that come in and out of the frame as the band plays in the corner. Les Claypool wears a pig-head mask the whole time to jibe with the "pork" theme of the album. Many of the performers were friends of the bands, and others came from the Circus Center school nearby. In a Songfacts interview with Mark Kohr, he said: "It was a lot of fun. And I'll tell you, from a one-shot standpoint, it was a lot of work. I had to do the timing of all of those events - meaning all of those people coming out - and have all that happen at the right time. It was a real challenge. It was a little terrifying. I had all these people and we had a rehearsal the day before. I was like, don't freak out, just keep moving, because it's going to turn out the same in the end whether you worry and crumble or not. But it was one of those times when I felt like my skin was on fire because there was so much riding on the whole situation. But that was a really fun piece to do with a lot of great people." From: https://www.songfacts.com/facts/primus/mr-krinkle
Buke & Gase - Pink Boots
[I have two windows open: in one, my questions for Arone Dyer and Aron Sanchez of Buke & Gase. In the other window, I have the Creation Kit, and I’m building a castle for Skyrim. I’m determined not to use fan-made resources, crafting purely from what shipped with the game. I tell myself it looks more authentic that way, but that’s untrue. It’s because by setting myself limits, blocked creatively into a corner, I have to think my way out. I have to snap those little lego-blocks together in ever more inventive ways, which pushes and stretches me. I can’t rely on things built by other people to let me coast along: either I imagine it, or it doesn’t exist.]
There’s no such thing as a buke. Arone Dyer invented it out of an old baritone ukelele and bits of whatever else they had lying around – I think it had bits of old car in it at some point – because they imagined it and wanted it to exist. Arone needed something lighter than a guitar, but I’m baffled by the ukelele: it’s just not something I associate with indie rock.
Aron: Actually there are a lot more ukeleles in indie rock than Gase’s. We don’t necessarily like ukeleles at all – we wanted to make a small experimental electric guitar and made one from parts of a ukelele. It is now a Buke.
The gass is a guitar-bass hybrid, similarly concocted by Aron Sanchez because he just didn’t want to be just another bass player. Hence, Buke and Gass – or Buke & Gase, as they call themselves for obvious reasons. Just the two of them, with just the two instruments plus their voices and whatever percussion they can strap to their feet. They make a hell of a racket for such a tiny band, but it’s a glorious noise. It’s indie rock, stretched and pushed until it makes something new. Descriptions are amusingly inept – they’re not “folk metal” or “chamber punk”, but I’ll give them “asymmetric congruencies of melodic discordance”. They pretty much sound like this.
Arone Dyer and Aron Sanchez were introduced by a mutual friend.
Aron: Arone was on a swing, I was carrying sheet rock.
Arone: We were inside, it was bright, like the sun was hanging out with us.
They’d met after Dyer moved to New York City from Minneapolis in 2000, where she joined the noise rock crew Hominid. Sanchez played with another act called Proton Proton before joining Hominid, and he and Dyer became more than bandmates. Then they split up.
I married my former bandmate, but I quit the band as soon as we got together: I couldn’t imagine the fallout from a break-up – the awkwardness, the arguments – it just all seemed too claustrophobic to me. Curious, I ask how their ex-lover status affected their working relationship.
Aron: Not a topic.
Does he mean that it didn’t cause problems, or that it’s none of my damn business? Probably both.
Arone: Non-issue-inducing.
What, aside from each other, have you taken from your old bands Hominid and Proton Proton to put in Buke & Gase?
Aron: The Gase began development in Proton Proton. In Hominid we learned how and how not to work together.
Arone took three years out from her music to race and fix bikes. She still works as a mechanic, which strikes me as an unusual occupation for someone in a busy band. I picture physical exhaustion and long hours, and ask how that fits in with being in Buke & Gase.
Arone: I don’t want to kill anyone, so I have to pay attention to the brakes.
Another answer that could be taken either way. All I know of Aron’s dayjob is that he worked with the Blue Man Group. What was it like being blue?
Aron: I have never been blue, actually: I used to be in the production side of the company. I still build instruments for them when requested.
I’ve never been too kind to Buke & Gase in the past. It didn’t help that my first exposure was the spit-take-inducing Revel In Contempt, which made me think they were the greatest new band on the planet … and then heard an album that to me sounded like half a dozen more versions of Revel In Contempt. That’s not because Riposte was a boring or samey album – most bands don’t even have one song that good in them, let alone an album-full – but it was the same sensation I got the fourth time I saw Cirque du Soleil: once you’ve ooohed-and-ahhed after the most astonishing aerial stuntwork in the world, they have to try so much harder to impress that it’s almost impossible for them to do so. You become immune to the spectacle with frightening speed. That first impression is so breathtaking that you want that feeling again – that sense that you didn’t even know it was achievable – and simply doing it again or even doing it better is just not going to get that reaction. Because you expect it.
General Dome is less like being ambushed in broad daylight and more like being glomped. You know exactly what it is and where it’s going, but that doesn’t stop it surprising you because it is pushing further in all directions. Arone’s voice darts around the scale like a butterfly and the abrupt changes in time signature are as dizzying as its flight, but it’s poppy, too. The choruses are infectious. If it was hard to describe Riposte, then General Dome is even more genre-defying, landing on all points on the noise-rock-indie-rock-math-rock spectrum. I wonder how much they planned that out before they started to write it.
Aron: The only plan was to create more music using the limitations and challenges of our instruments. Most of the compositional elements come from improvisation, we mostly follow where the song tells us to go, and hopefully we are getting better at it.
Is that Autotune I hear?
Aron: We are using a vocal processor to add melodies and harmonies. We use it in a creative way rather than a corrective one. We use the same technology to add harmonic layers to the Gase and Buke as well.
[Still with my level-editor window open, I’m surveying my fairytale castle. It looks beautiful, I admit that much, but it doesn’t quite look right. Why, really, have I imposed those limits on myself? I think I’ve done as much as I can, and it does look good, but if I unshackled myself, I could do better. Because I could take all that I’ve learnt through imposing those constraints and apply it to the new resources and make something better still. Better, perhaps, than anyone has seen before. Instead of just plopping them down in the usual places, I can bend them in new directions and make something that will stop you in your tracks and mutter “wow”.]
Buke & Gase are going to take their self-imposed shackles off, too.
What would you like to achieve with the next recording?
Aron: Perhaps getting more help with production, exploring new sounds.
Arone: Maybe change the name and the instruments, and therefore change the set of self-induced limitations to continue to be creatively inspired by all things fun.
Who’s on your MP3 player?
Aron: Extra Life, The Knife, Arvo Part and 437 other artists.
Arone: Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Shellac, De La Soul, and most of what Aron’s got.
From: https://reinspired.wordpress.com/2013/01/30/interview-buke-and-gase/
Ostrich Von Nipple - Lick a Toad
Ostrich von Nipple – ‘Quantifies Absurdity’ is a journey that is a journey of infectious mentalism. The album starts with the intimate, loud and almost rock opera-ish ‘Shhhh (I’m Naked). On a guitar bed of epic bizarreness an atmosphere of sewer systems is announcing the word for the world police and oversized food chains; America. The music goes into a funky drunkaholic groove underlining that ‘America is the land for the strange’ as if it’s a poster attracting weirdoes from abroad to get their asses over to the land of the free. It sounds not the slightest dangerous, but truly inviting to undress yourself and join this club of weirdoes and happy freaks.
The album doesn’t settle down when ‘The Angry Arm’ reaches out to pull your ears right back in. A rhythmic yet shimmery odd substance of music secretly brings something that with drastic re-listen sessions would be possible to sing along as if it’s your own life-song. Don’t think the muppets, but think a tripped out bunch of fabulously alternative sounding Feebles. There is a tremendous amount of musicology hidden behind the oddness; impressing just as much as it inspires to let your inner natter run out and play air guitar in the moon light.
‘To Stalling For Time’ kicks in the energy button for some insane, (really insane? How surprising!) Episode of chicken-ska! Think a lot of pocking, excessive polka dancing, intimate middle parts for a shared kiss among one of the cocks; and groundbreaking electric guitar solos over rolling wobble baselines. It’s here that the dance-ability of the listener and Ostrich von Nipple gets ultimately tested; and successfully succeeds to win the main price! The end is like a marathon of polonaise chickens holding each tails, lifting each leg up as if they are wearing flippers & having an excellent time!
The album goes so quick, not because the tunes are short; but because they are heavily entertaining. Before you’ll know it you are listening to a pirate-clown-fart-folk-song named ‘Clowns Run Away’. It has the impression on me that it is song by someone dressed in a furry monster costume with a single eye; it’s all tongue in the cheek material, seriously gets listeners grabbing for some liquid named whiskey. Oh the good oll’ whiskey and this tune go so well together; almost like yin and yang! ‘Wandering in Shadows’ takes the surprised listeners on a journey of all kinds of shadows and their inhabitants, some are funny, some are having a bad breath, some are playful and others just wander around like the listener does. It’s like wandering in your own mirror and finally seeing yourself. (or in this case; hearing yourself ‘seeing’)
A serious beginning begins at the track named ‘Killing the Koala’ (a subject that is of course a tremendously serious subject) After the buildup of intentional atmospheric tensions, the ‘kill the koala’ session actually lightens up with a flexible rhythm for the koala to attempt its slow escape on. Or perhaps the killers will get distracted by a silly ‘kill the koala dance’ and forget all about the koala? A strange song of togetherness is the one named ‘Precious Things’, here the freaks come out and play their favorite instruments, they sing and dance together, go acid-jazzy like a Bella Lugosi on speed! It’s the tune to bite your teeth in, rip it out of your speakers and play it over and over again. This is the invitation for math-rock, the invitation to the asylum, and the invitation to cabaret from the bottom of a hellishly fun sounding pit! Take what you can and make the most out of it..
The absolutely out of real life Jehovah witness inspired tune ‘Door to Door’ takes us all the way inside the head while they go from door to door. You can hear what they hear while they walk, and hear what they hear when they try to put their shoes between half opened doors. It’s deliriously delicious; and strangely will probably turn non Jehovah witnesses into Jehovah witness wannabes! ‘So Do We’ goes on a spiritual journey, full of hare Krishna-ish feelings; warm, happy, together and a redefined insane vibe of brilliant weirdo love. It’s the ‘Halleluiah’ moment on the album; making you want to praise the weirdest almighty and sticking your paws into the great big sky of nothingness. It’s absolutely an enlightening moment on this wonderful album, a moment in which all music comes and falls in place. The stuff to feel deeply enhanced with!
A great party starts when the mad martians have arrived at the beach, and Ostrich von Nipple is there to complement it with the perfect party anthem music. The sounds gets funky, all over the place, baselines, epic hand drums, hanging chords on a keyboard, cartoon vibes, organic organ epic-ness; it’s an energetic waltz of a potpourri of whatever-is-available; and it’s a lot of fun! ‘Left him on the ground’ gives a spin to the socially awkwardness of the weirdoes that have been roaming around on this record. This might be their more creepy side that steps into the spotlight, showing off all their colorful greyish colors like a flamingo on Prozac. Precious listening material!
Upright Jerker is the last tune on this album full of imaginary friends, freaks and exhibits. It’s here that I feel like it’s time to say goodbye to the one eye-monster, the garden gnome, the jazzy things that have come out of the closet to deliver this intensive album of fun, adventure and general oddness. Don’t think that this is just a circus side-show, Ostrich von Nipple is clearly an act highly (extremely high!) armed with quality music skills. Madonna, Katy Perry and Cher fans might not exactly team up to hear it, but in another perfect dimension; they really should! I couldn’t find a place for preview / streaming this magnificent Residential album, but you might google it yourself and come across links like this one to the official label who just (very freshly) released it; and get one of those limited precious copies! From: https://yeahiknowitsucks.wordpress.com/2015/05/11/ostrich-von-nipple-qualifies-absurdity/
Bab L' Bluz - AmmA
Bab L’Bluz (literally “The gate to the Blues”) is a Franco-Moroccan band created in 2018 in Marrakech. It is a Moroccan Psychedelic Rock band inspired by Gnawa and Hassani traditions, combining Rock, current music & Moroccan popular music. Bab L’Bluz was born following the meeting of the Moroccan singer-guitarist Yousra Mansour and the French guitarist/producer Brice Bottin in Marrakech in early 2017. Both passionate about Gnawa music, they decide to learn together the guembri. Mid 2017, they compose a new repertoire of 10 tracks of powerful and current music, while respecting the analog universe of the 60’s & 70’s. They want to mix their influences tastefully, and want to be labeled as a Moroccan Psychedelic rock band. Mid 2018, they are joined by friends and musicians from Lyon Jérôme Bartholomé and Hafid Zouaoui. They will do their first live concert on Radio Nova. The group performs in international festivals such as: Arabesque, L’Boulevard, Rock Am Bach, Le Péristyle, the Opera Underground of Lyon, ARTE concerts, and released their first album Nayda! in June 2020 on Real World Records. From: https://fliartists.com/artists/bab-lbluz/
Levitation Room - Crystal Ball
There’s nothing like the weight of Los Angeles pressures that range from societal standards to its fast-paced culture. The hazy smog sets over the City of Angels and the summer heat makes the sidewalks sizzle. Palm trees loom over the sunsets, making you feel like you’re in a dream. It’s the home of the psychedelic quartet Levitation Room. The band is composed of singer Julian Porte, guitarist Gabriel Fernandez, drummer Jonathan Martin, and bassist Kevin Perez. The four musicians break the bonds of gravity with their cosmic wall of sound and thought-provoking lyrics.
Levitation Room was formed around the band members’ mutual love of ’60s garage rock played with a psychedelic twist. Initially, they sought to re-create the sounds they love. Their own sound is described to be a perfect mix of lo-fi and fuzzy pedals. The wavy and atmospheric songs echo their influences: summers of love, sunny days at the park, life, society, and self-awareness. Today, Levitation Room is broadening their soundscape and dipping into the world of genres through intoxicating guitar tones while maintaining their dreamy melodies. Luna had the chance to talk to lead singer Porte about their latest single, “Scene for an Exit,” and the band’s upcoming record.
LUNA: Before we get into the meat of the questions, did you happen to participate in Barbenheimer? It’s when you watch Barbie and Oppenheimer on the same day.
PORTE: No, but I did see Barbie. My girlfriend dragged me to see it. Well, actually, I was persuaded to see it. A friend of ours was in town from up north, and my girlfriend and I were both kind of detesting it a little bit. We ended up trying it, and it’s really good. It's really funny — really hilarious. Once I put my guard down, I realized the movie was pretty good. I was trying to get everyone to go see Oppenheimer, but they were like, “We'll walk out of the theater sad.” I still have yet to see Oppenheimer.
LUNA: If a big movie studio decided to make a biopic on your life, who would you want to be cast as yourself?
PORTE: I think it’s gotta be someone who has my complexion, so that kind of narrows it down. I watch a lot of films, but trying to recollect actors' names is always tricky. Who's young enough to play me but also has my vibe? Who’s the guy who played Freddie Mercury… Oh! Rami Malek! Yeah, I would go with Rami Malek. I liked what he did with Mr. Robot.
LUNA: Rami Malik. Solid choice. He's phenomenal. To set the scene, how would you describe the beginning moments in forming Levitation Room?
PORTE: Well, it goes back to me and Gabriel, the lead guitar player. We were friends a long time ago and we were in a band called The Hits. At that time, I was just a singer. I wasn't a guitar player. We were starting with this band, but my involvement was short-lived because I ended up leaving due to conflicting musical interests with other band members. I went off to start learning how to play guitar and I was becoming, like, a folk musician, and I was a street busker — that's how I kind of built my chops. At some point, I was doing open mics and trying to get gigs as a folk musician, but no one ever seemed to pay attention to it. I thought, “I think I need a bigger platform; I think I need to expand my sound here.” I'm a big fan of psychedelic rock ’n’ roll. I like all kinds of music, but that was my favorite. That's what I really honed in on.
One day I made a Facebook post asking if anyone wanted to start a band, and Gabriel responded and was like, “Yo, I'm thinking about leaving The Hits,” because at that time they were gigging. They’d found another singer, and he was down to jam and meet up with me. So we started hanging out in his garage and going over covers of songs that we liked. We were dreaming up this idea of starting a band together. I think it really all came together when I met John at a party — our drummer, Jonathan Martin — and we started jamming together at our friend Isaac's studio. We realized that we needed our own studio, and I found this ad on Craigslist for a big warehouse space that was being rented out. John and I ended up moving in and living there.
LUNA: That’s really cool.
PORTE: In front of the warehouse was a music retailer space, and the owners had told us they were shutting the retail space down because they couldn’t afford it anymore. Eventually, the owners hit us up and offered to take it over and have some kind of business endeavor installed in there. And so a bunch of our friends helped and we all came together to start a music collective. That’s when things started to take off.
LUNA: Wow, I didn't know anything about the warehouse. I think that's really cool, that a lot of the things that propelled you guys forward were community, having those shows and other people coming together.
PORTE: It was in east LA. In the front, we sold guitars, music equipment, vintage clothes, records, and antiques. Our friend was a tattoo artist, so he was doing tattoos. We had another friend who was a video editor, so we built an office space for him. Then in the back, we had our studios, which we rented out to bands to rehearse. The thing that made the bulk of our income was throwing a big blowout party once a month. A lot of bands like Cherry Glazerr and the Mild High Club played and were doing some of their first shows there.
LUNA: That’s sick. It’s been about three years since you guys last released music — how do you think you’ve changed as a person over that period of time?
PORTE: The pandemic changed me quite a bit, I guess you could say. I feel like I'm socially inept now. I don't really go out as much. I get nervous in big crowds when I never really used to, and my interest in a lot of things has changed. I've gotten interested in history, and I've been trying to educate myself on how the financial system works and stupid things like that. Everyone else on this planet is constantly evolving, right? We're always changing. It's forever changing. That's one consistent thing that we're always doing. I used to be so attached to my ideals, and what I've come to learn is that I shouldn't do that because I'm always going to change my mind about certain things, interests, convictions, everything.
I remember when I was younger, in high school — and even after high school — I thought I was going to be a punk rocker forever, but I changed. As far as the music, we're trying to expand our sound because between the four of us, there's a culmination of interest, and we all like different things and we all like a lot of the same things. We're trying to bring every element of what we like into our music. There’s jazz, folk, and world music — and also trying not to pigeonhole ourselves into being just a psych-rock band because we want to make good pop music. We want to make music that we want to listen to and that spans all genres of music.
LUNA: Yeah, absolutely. Speaking of which, how do you think the writing process for “Scene for an Exit” has differed from the rest of your discography or past songs you guys have written?
PORTE: I think, at least for us, there are two types of ways to approach writing songs. One comes very naturally, where we're just kind of jamming in the studio. Someone's like, “Oh, that sounds really cool. Let's keep doing that,” and then it just evolves into a song, or sometimes it goes nowhere. Other times, it's a thing where someone has been really working on a song. Perhaps it came quickly, or perhaps it developed over a period of time. I'm thinking back to our song “Warmth of the Sun,” which is one of our top five listened-to songs — and that took me two, almost three years, to write. It just started with a little riff. “Scene for an Exit” was a particular song that came about in the studio from comfortably jamming with each other and thinking, “That sounds cool.” The song came very naturally, very organic. We didn't really sit and throw our heads at the wall or scratch our heads. It was a cool song that came quickly.
LUNA: Being held as staples to festivals such as Levitation Fest and Desert Daze is a testimony to how your recorded music translates exceptionally well into live music. What’s your favorite part about performing live?
PORTE: It’s an exhilarating experience. I think, especially the moments before you hit the stage, your nerves are just cross-wired. As soon as you get on stage and feel the reception of the crowd — especially if it's a warm reception — then it's on. You're floating in this space. It's almost like a dream, because it happens really fast. Then when you reflect back on it, it’s like, “Whoa, what just happened?” Sometimes when you're having a bad show it can feel excruciatingly long. You're just like, “Oh my god, I can't wait for this to be done.” A majority of our experiences have been very positive. It's almost like a religious experience. You're up there in the act of receiving God or something. I think we have to, a lot of times, realize that the music is bigger than us and kind of remove our egos from that experience. People are there for the music, and it's a total exchange between the band and the crowd. There's a conduit, almost — what the crowd gives us, we give back.
LUNA: Absolutely, yeah. To close everything off, the last question I have is: What aspect of your upcoming music are you most excited for your audience to experience?
PORTE: The way that the fidelity of how the songs sound on this record is much different than the lo-fi sound that we usually do, so I'm excited to present that to them. I'm also just excited to show people how much we've evolved in our sound and in our songwriting. I'm not trying to be too boastful, but I'm very proud of this body of work. For one, it took a long time to do because we kept re-recording it and trying to find the right home for it. This time we made an album that I would want to listen to, whereas before, I think a lot of the music that we've made… I don't think I would bump it in my car. I hope that people like it.
From: https://www.thelunacollective.co/journal/qa-levitation-room
Fiona Apple - Sessions at West 54th 1997
I don’t know where to start or stop with Fiona Apple. I mention her a lot; to date there are 10 review articles in which she is mentioned by name, but then she is the #1 female singer songwriter of the last 30 years in my opinion and if I make any reference to her you can be sure that is a huge endorsement of the artist I’m comparing to her. But I’ll wager there are some folk reading this article that have never heard of her, owing to her latter day isolation. A semi-recluse in her Venice Beach home, she hasn’t toured for years that I know of, once cancelled a tour of Latin America because her dog was sick and didn’t reinstate the tour later, and hasn’t been to Europe for close to 20 years. (I did read that she has a fear of flying, which might count as an excuse). I know of several organisations that have tried consistently to attract her, the Manchester International Festival being just one of them, but without any success. And her track record at releasing studio albums isn’t great either. On average one every 4.8 years from 1996 to 2020 or every 5.6 years until now. And the gap is getting bigger. The one between albums three and four was seven years and between four and five it was eight. Apple argues that she writes only when she feels like it, which isn’t very often but when she does she becomes obsessed with the project and wholly driven until it is completed to perfection… She doesn’t do anything to order, by record labels or anyone else. And you might well feel that’s the way it should be.
That degree of obsession possibly dates back to her third album, ‘Extraordinary Machine’ (2005), the first she recorded, as a New Yorker, in her new Los Angeles home and the one that introduced her to me. It was famously delayed because her label, Epic, held it back for two years, seemingly because they were concerned about a lack of ‘commercial appeal’. That led to a highly publicised fan-led ‘Free Fiona’ campaign and the re-recording of the album which was eventually released more than three years after the original recording sessions began.
There is a lot about Apple that I could talk about, such as her Melungeon ancestry (descendants from northern or central Europeans and sub-Saharan Africans, who mainly live in the Appalachian mountains – she gets her given name Apple from her grandmother), the Broadway showbiz background of her parents, her cabaret singer sister Amber, aka Maude Maggart, her Grammy Awards (she’s a three-time winner), her remarkable and career defining “the world is bullshit” outburst at the MTV Awards in 1997, her various physical and mental ailments that have troubled her for years (but which now seem to be under control) and what at the very least probably contributed to them; the brutal rape she experienced as a 12-year girl right outside her apartment door on her way home from school.
I’m astonished there is no biography of Apple but then again I don’t think she is the type that would want one anyway. Her songs are invariably about relationships that failed and often (but not always) written vengefully, belittling the ex-partner. If Los Angeles is ‘100 suburbs in search of a city’ as it was once described then its most lovelorn inhabitant is ‘100 dates in search of a love affair.’
The first video is of a performance of ‘Never is a promise’, from her debut album ‘Tidal’ in 1996. She long ago gave up on performing this song live; it clearly has an extremely emotional effect on her. This is taken from the West 54th Street Sessions, a popular TV show at the time. I have never seen a more genuinely emotional and passionate delivery of a song by ANY musician that can top this performance. It is breathtaking from start to finish and Apple lives it rather than sings it. Pass the tissues please. Watch for the way she uses facial expressions. (And there is an even more dramatic and impassioned live performance than this on YouTube but I declined to post it in case it frightened the kids).
She bares her soul like no-one else I know. And almost chokes on the emotion. Bear in mind that Apple was 14 or 15 when she wrote it and is 18 or 19 here. In fact it is one of three songs on a demo tape passed on by a babysitter friend to the child’s mother, a music publicist, who ensured it was passed on to Sony. That’s how she got her break. And tell me how a 14-year old writes lyrics like,
“You’ll never see the courage I know/Its colours’ richness won’t appear within your view
I’ll never glow the way that you glow/Your presence dominates the judgments made on you.”
And that’s just the opening verse. Later,
“But as the scenery grows, I see in different lights/The shades and shadows undulate in my perception
My feelings swell and stretch I see from greater heights/I understand what I am still too proud to mention… to you”
What?? 14? One aspect of Apple’s talent that is rarely mentioned strangely is her piano playing. She began learning aged six and by the time she was eight was composing her own songs and transposing guitar tablature into piano notation. Just think about that. The weird instrument being played in support by the way is a Chamberlin, a sort of early mellotron which you rarely hear these days but which remains one of her favourites.
For the second performance we move on to circa 2014. I said earlier that she doesn’t perform live much these days, the exception being in some of her favourite Los Angeles clubs including this one, Largo. Once again the lyrics, this time in the song ‘I know’, the final track on her second album, ‘When the pawn…’ are awesome. I can’t think of anyone who can surpass her. In this case Apple is in her rare gentler, forgiving mode, at least until the end. Try this:
“And you can use my skin to bury secrets in
And I will settle you down
And at my own suggestion
I will ask no questions
While I do my thing in the background”
And the coup de grâce:
“While you try to find
The lines to speak your mind
And pry it open, hoping for an encore
And if it gets too late, for me to wait
For you to find you love me, and tell me so
It’s okay, don’t need to say it…”
She spits out the “for you to find you love me” like a woman scorned a thousand times by indecision in the face of her obvious love for him, then immediately collapses into the heartrending pathos of “and tell me so”. And for all the complexity of those lines, “And if it gets too late, for me to wait, For you to find you love me, and tell me so” it trips off the tongue. And the brilliance of those lyrics is capped by the two words that everyone is expecting to be delivered right at the end but which never are, the title line, “I know”. She doesn’t have to say it because she knows so many women hanging on every word she says know it, too. That’s pure genius.
There’s more drama in this five minute video than in most of the movies made today but that is what Apple is all about, the impromptu live performance from an unpredictable artist. She’s left audiences begging for more but she’s also just walked off stage two songs in, because she didn’t ‘feel right.’ To any younger performers and especially female singer-songwriters reading this, Fiona Apple is the Gold Standard, and this is the level you should aspire to. The passion Apple brings to just about any song she performs is off the scale. I would pay whatever it took to see one of her mesmeric performances live, anywhere. And she is still very much a contemporary artist, aged only 47, even if she rarely gets out of first gear these days. From: https://www.nordicmusiccentral.com/weekend-intermission-greatest-live-performances-ever-fiona-apple-never-is-a-promise-and-i-know/
The Lickerish Quartet - Lighthouse Spaceship
Sometimes there’s just no other way. You don’t want to do it, but all roads are traveling in that one direction. You go there or you don’t go at all. I imagine that’s the feeling the members of the band The Lickerish Quartet feel. The Quartet, which is actually a trio named after an Italian erotic film, consists of Roger Joseph Manning Jr., Eric Dover, and Tim Smith. They dropped their E.P., Threesome Vol. 1, last month. Crucially, all three members of this band were previously connected to the cult power-pop band Jellyfish, and unfortunately that is how the E.P. is being marketed, as a quasi-reunion.
I get it. In the years after the dissolution of Jellyfish, the group moved from a beloved and legitimately wronged band with a small but devoted fan base to something akin to a legend. A tiny legend – let’s keep things in proportion – but in a specific genre subsection, Jellyfish is godhead. Post-Jellyfish, The Lickerish Quartet’s members hadn’t become megastars. In Manning’s case, he did quite well as a session musician, backing up Beck and others, but his solo releases stayed low-profile, and not necessarily because he wanted it that way. His E.P. Glamping from a couple years back is a shockingly solid effort, worthy of praise and attention, not getting much of either.
So you are in this reunion effort, but here’s the problem. It doesn’t sound much like the top marquee band the reunion proposes to capitalize upon. Threesome Vol. 1 is not the second coming of Jellyfish, and it darn well shouldn’t be. The four tracks on the release are a piece with the stylistic tropes the previous group was known for, being ’60s influenced psych-pop, glistening AM radio confections, the occasional glam rock slap in the face, and a black streak of subversion throughout. Their second album, Spilt Milk, while appearing as all gorgeous with carnival lights and primary colors on the outside is at heart a concept record critical of organized religion.
Threesome Vol. 1‘s first single, “Lighthouse Spaceship,” comes closest to the identifying DNA. “Fadoodle” is a breezy fiddle-about on the the subject of…wanting to fadoodle. If I need to explain the euphemism to you, consider yourself hopeless and go watch some NC-17 content on Netflix.”There Is A Magic Number” and “Bluebird’s Blues” are also keepers, offering a solid effort from top to bottom. On the whole, I don’t think the marketing does the material justice. This is a terrific little mini-album and can stand on its own, but the industry does not work that way. You gotta have branding.
Since this is self-released by the band, they realize it too and have to do everything they can to give this new venture a fighting chance (especially since a certain Mr. Covid has bashed all musicians across the kneecaps). Is that fair? Most certainly not, so I would advise you give Threesome Vol. 1 a fair shot in spite of, not because of, the heritage. And I cannot stress this enough: the reasons why Manning, Smith and Dover did it are perfectly legitimate, and I guarantee that it was somewhat a sacrifice to lean on those connections. If you enjoy the recording as much as I did and that translates into sales and some excitement, one hopes that a Volume 2 will emerge and have the mojo it needs to stand alone. From: https://musictap.com/2020/07/23/music-review-the-lickerish-quartet-threesome-vol-1/
Lysa Gora - Ripni Kalinke
It’s been a while since we’ve reviewed a Łysa Góra (meaning ‘bald mountain’) album. Łysa Góra is a five-member band whose past albums have been folk-forward and acoustic. This album is unique in its electric guitar and bass magic, and sadly, it’s extra special because it’s the last with violinist Sylwia Biernat who’s parting ways with the band.
The title track was released before the album as a single, and I strongly recommend listening to it. It tidily sums up the band’s sound and the spirit of the album. For those not listening, the lead singer Dorota has a simply amazing voice. There are some high-energy plaintive vocals, but most of the singing is somber and melancholy. There are guitars, bass, and drums that play nicely throughout the album. In such a vocally-driven performance, there’s really no room for showy guitar riffs or drum segments, but the “Oj Dolo” (“Oh, fate”) does feature some exceptional bass playing. On the folk end, the violinist also stands out and brings soul and spirit into each song.
Speaking of songs, each one is a meandering journey. No refrains, but quite a few memorable motifs and repeated phrases, almost exclusively in minor keys. The melodies are, like Łysa Góra’s other ventures, distinctly Slavic and eastern European, and even the guitar tones have a familiar sound to other bands in Poland and heading east. A few songs throw some sound effects into the mix. “Wdowa” (“Widow”), appropriately, has a church organ and some heavy drumming that’s evened out by the violin, and “Wolność” (“Freedom”), my personal favorite, starts with a dialogue and a woman crying. It’s a little heavy handed and not ideal for repeated listening, but the song is the strongest on the album. This is the strongest album Łysa Góra’s created to date. Together, they capture the true embodiment of Slavic folk metal. They have a full tour schedule of both acoustic and electric shows. They’re highly recommended and worth checking out. From: https://www.folk-metal.nl/2023/04/lysa-gora-w-ogniu-swiat-2023/
Moving Oos - Minister Of Love
Since upper Norway in early February remains dark both at night and during most of the day, it is impossible for a visitor with only three days in the country to assess time with any accuracy. Add alcohol, plus sleep deprivation to the already extant sensory deprivation, and the task becomes laughable. The vague occasion was the after-party to what had previously seemed the after-party, on the day after the last night of Trondheim's by:Larm festival, and thus it could have been nearly any time in the early or even late morning that we emerged out of a cluster of warehouses and, ducking the wind off the snow and the nearby fjord, ascended the steps up into the third or fifth venue of the evening.
Though we had been told otherwise, we did not expect the "biker bar" to which we had been referred to contain American-style bikers, to boast mounted Death Valley cow skulls and wall-to-wall worn-out leather jackets. And we did not expect the Moving Oos, which we knew as a side-project to the New Violators and were our last stop before the airport, to have much to do with "classic rock"-- somewhere, somebody sketchily said, between the Faces and MC5. We expected them to sound like the New Violators: gauzy not bluesy, early 1980s not early 70s, good clothes and a dignified affect, not blue jeans and jean jackets.
OK, that's not quite right. We knew their singer had worked as a truck driver and knew that Per Borten, the gifted music mimic, singer, and songwriter behind New Violators, wrote the Moving Oos' songs too. And we knew that the New Violators' occasional backup singer/siren was one of the two "oos" in that band's three-person vocal front (the two bands also share a drummer and keyboardist). Two of us had even seen the Oos the night before. But who could believe the same people carrying off such a brilliant American/English 80s pop resurrection could be doing the same thing later that evening for a completely different decade, the 1970s??
Anybody who's heard Zeppelin or the Rolling Stones or the Black Crowes or AC/DC-- everybody-- will know what's coming in this music minutes before it actually happens, making Peace and Love a brain-teaser of a good record. How can we still enjoy this stuff: the bluesy lick, guitar or keys; the tambourine hits on the eights; the gesture skyward cued by women saying "ooh"; the multi-tracked, song-title-based chorus? The motorcycle revs on "Natural Man", the "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" interpolation on "Turn Back Time", the "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution" intro on not one but two songs, "Prisoner" and "Promised Land"?
One answer is that Peace and Love is less homage than pretty close to the real thing, right place/wrong time, maybe, but right songs. What makes Peace and Love more than a joke or side-project or late night drunken escapism is something perhaps old fashioned or unfashionable, but it has to do with everyone in the band knowing how to sing, how to play their instruments, everyone knowing the exact moment on "Romancer" to get out of the way and let the two women deliver the second chorus by themselves, a shivery and sharp moment of clarity that says, just maybe, these guys know what they're about. It's easy to be taken by bands you see this way-- foreign place, foreign time, perfect for the exact moment they're stepping out into-- but the Moving Oos have no trouble pulling that space up by themselves, without help. Skeptics beware. From: https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/10037-peace-and-love/
High Places - She's A Wild Horse
High Places showed up in 2008 pegged as a Brooklyn act, but they never seemed very metropolitan. If anything, their innocent, home-recorded songs felt pastoral or coastal-- concerned more with breaking out of the city rather than toiling in it. That escapist tendency, mixed with their sonic primitivism and hopeful outlook, was refreshing. Even if their style wasn't exactly groundbreaking (we'd heard others combine global polyrhythms, hip-hop beats, and field recordings before), their approach was unique. In part because of Rob Barber's ragged production, High Places made those sounds feel roomy and lived-in. While a good record, 2008's High Places was primarily an extension of what the band established with their singles collection 03/07 – 09/07. The sound was slightly glossier, but mostly it was vocalist Mary Pearson once again cooing over Barber's fractured arrangements. With High Places vs. Mankind, though, all that is out of the window. If you count High Places as their first true album, then their latest is a classic sophomore change-up-- a departure in both style and temperament. Far from the doe-eyed innocence and sunny bliss of their earlier work, High Places are darker and much more somber here, and their approach to recording and presentation has changed.
The biggest difference is the band's mood. High Places used to stress resiliency and optimism, but now they seem resigned to life's disappointments. On an early track "On Giving Up", Pearson, who once radiated childlike hopefulness, sings solemnly of loss: "Though I have cried so many times before, it's all because I feel everything that's gone." Similar themes of heartbreak and fear exist throughout the album, and there's a notable change in the way the band sounds, too. Instead of the earlier sample-heavy style, Barber incorporates more live instrumentation, and as a result High Places feel more like a band. There are still loops and dance elements, but the focus is often more on heavy post-punk guitar-and-bass lines that enhance the overall gloomy vibe.
It's a surprising turn for the group, and whether or not you like them more as sunny optimists or somber realists is a matter of taste. The more pressing question is how this shift affects the quality of the songs. Mostly it works, but there are also songs here, especially the instrumental ones ("The Channon", "Drift Slayer") that aren't very memorable. Even a few of the more pop-focused cuts tend to skimp on melody, and it makes me think that in the band's desire to overhaul, they lost a bit of their initial spark. Still, the album is encouraging because it shows a talented young group unafraid of growth. Even if this isn't their best collection of songs, it takes nerve to try something so different. From: https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/14103-high-places-vs-mankind/
Macroscream - The Flying Giampy
Macroscream represents the flowering of bassist/vocalist Alessandro Patierno's long-term vision to create a seventies-style progressive rock band. His idea took root in 2001 but it was seven years before the group's line-up was completed with the arrival of drummer Marco Pallotti in 2008. Like their fellow band members, Davide Cirone (keyboards) and Tonino Politano (guitar) have backgrounds in the music schools and academies. However it was violinist Gianpaolo Saracino's involvement in a number of folk music projects that largely shaped the band's musical development. And their style has been further honed through a productive live activity since 2010; last year they supported Italian jazz ensemble Ibrido Hot Six at a concert in Rome that also featured guest appearances by Gary Green and Malcolm Mortimore of Gentle Giant.
The band's self-produced debut album 'Sisyphus' (2011) is a mature musical work that combines a strong Italian folk sensibility, courtesy of Saracino's violin arrangements, with a devotion to 1970s symphonic prog. The ambition of the music is matched by English-language lyrics that are derived from philosophy and classical mythology - the album is inspired by Albert Camus' reading of the legendary trickster Sisyphus who was condemned to eternal punishment by the gods. In spite of Patierno's highly distinctive vocals, which often sound at odds with the music, the band generally manages to exploit the opposing but balanced qualities of harshness and sophistication. Sisyphus' travails were dedicated to an eternity of accomplishing nothing but his namesake album has the potential to establish Macroscream as a major new RPI band in the near future. From: https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=7335
Frequency Drift - 6:16 am Deceit
Frequency Drift was formed by classically trained keyboard player and multi-instrumentalist Andreas Hack in 2006 - the band subsequently releasing their debut, 'Personal Effects Pt. 1' in 2008 via Musea. This conceptual work, based around the tragic tale of two sisters in a futuristic setting, was inspired by films like 'Bladerunner', 'Ghost in a Shell' etc, and told the story of a girl named River living in 2046 and having problems with an imaginary association named 'Diomedeidae'.
Katja Hubner was the impressive female vocalist on this first album, and the follow-up album, 'Personal Effects Pt. 2' was released by Cyclops in 2010, the new album once again showcasing Frequency Drift's talent for powerful, soulful melodies and atmosphere. The album continued River's story, with new melodic, atmospheric songs - including a wider range of instruments - and female vocal contributions this time from Nicole Scharnagl, Kerstin Leidner and Christine Mettner.
For the band's 2011 album 'Ghosts', Antje Auer had joined them permanently on vocals, and this release saw the first notable appearance of later band member Nerissa Schwarz (electric harp) as guest composer and musician, as well as an evolution towards an enthralling, melancholic mixture of art rock, ambient, folk and metal. Martin Fox was now the band's permanent drummer, with original drummer Wolfgang Ostermann also performing as a guest on several tracks, and several other guest musicians being involved in the making of the album.
'Laid to Rest' (2012, Gentle Art of Music) continued this path, with world music influences and an even more varied instrumentation - featuring gemshorn, flute and clarinet alongside the harp and violin. There was a another change of drummer for this album (Jasper Joris) - with his partner Barbara Joris being responsible for the gemshorn and various other medieval instruments - and Martin Schnella of Seven Steps to the Green Door and Flaming Row fame guesting on acoustic & electric guitars on the album's final track.
The international success of their albums earned Frequency Drift an invitation to play live at the 2012 "Night of the Prog" festival on the famous Loreley open-air stage, a performance called one of the highlights in 9 years of NOTP by the festival's manager in the German magazine 'Eclipsed'. Frequency Drift's 5th album 'Over' (2014, Gentle Art of Music / Soulfood) established a writing collaboration between Andreas and Nerissa, and was marked by further experimentation with electric harp soundscapes and keyboard textures.
An ambitious and eclectic work, 'Over' offers a unique mixture of old school progressive rock, post rock, pop, classical and world music. Isa Fallembacher and guest singer Agathe Labus shared the vocals, and Martin Schnella again guested on acoustic & electric guitars along with Kalle Wallner (RPWL, Blind Ego) on bass. The band had no permanent drummer for this particular album, the role being fulfilled by another guest musician in Phil Paul Rissettio.
In the same year, Frequency Drift released 'Summer', a wistful collection of previously unreleased songs, and was re-joined by their original permanent drummer Wolfgang Ostermann, a move which brought fresh rhythmic drive to the music. In the months that followed, the band performed live at renowned international festivals, including Summer's End (UK) and Progdreams (NL), and as main act at the live club De Pul (NL).
February 2016 saw the release of the band's 6th album 'Last'. Stranger and darker than its predecessors, yet still highly melodic, with stunning artwork and evocative lyrics, it was Frequency Drift's most cohesive and cinematic work to date, with Martin Schnella now a full band member on electric & acoustic guitars, and Melanie Mau also joining the band on vocals.
Although they have an obvious love for album titles suggesting death and finality, Frequency Drift are still alive and kicking as of 2018 - despite their continuing line-up changes over the years - and their latest album 'Letters to Maro', featuring new singer and lyricist Irini Alexia, was released on 13th April 2018 via Gentle Art of Music / Soulfood. From: https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=3907
Cream - As You Said
By 1968, London’s Royal Albert Hall was seen by most people as the UK’s home of classical music. Despite hosting concerts by the Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Bob Dylan and others over the previous five years, And while there had been rock concerts there before, there was never a rock concert as intense and as significant as the one on November 26, 1968, when Cream officially said farewell as a band.
In their two years of existence, the trio’s success had been phenomenal; they conquered America, fell out with one another and redefined what a rock trio with blues sensibilities could achieve. There is no band that followed Cream with a similar make-up that was not influenced by them. Cream became the template for heavy metal, and yet their respect for the blues and Jack Bruce’s huge musical talent for composition always gave them an edge over their rivals.
Prior to playing two nights at the Royal Albert Hall, Cream had completed a grueling 19-city tour of America, before the two back-to-back nights on November 25 and 26. The opening acts for their farewell show were Yes, still eight months away from releasing their brilliant debut record and using Leonard Bernstein’s “Something Coming” from West Side Story as the highlight of their set, and Taste, Rory Gallagher’s band, who like Cream were a three-piece and one that was also steeped in the blues.
Cream’s set included classic blues covers such as “I’m So Glad” (Skip James), “Sitting on Top of the World” (Mississippi Sheiks), “Cross Roads” (Robert Johnson), “Steppin’ Out” (Memphis Slim) and “Spoonful” (Howlin’ Wolf). These were complemented by the band’s own compositions, “White Room,” “Politician,” “Toad,” with Ginger Baker’s long drum solo, and of course, “Sunshine of Your Love,” the song that broke Cream in America.
Tony Palmer filmed cream’s farewell concerts, and the following year his insightful documentary was broadcast on the BBC to great critical acclaim. The initial plan was to release the concerts as a double album. Eventually, the idea was scrapped and instead, Goodbye was issued in February 1969 with some live songs and three recorded at IBC Studios in London in October 1968. The live tracks were taken from a show at the LA Forum in October 1968.
While Cream’s farewell shows were perhaps inevitably not their best, there is no denying their importance, both in the folklore of the band and in rock music in general. How could a band last for a little over two years, be so successful, and then break up? In fact, what they were doing was setting a template of another kind. The whole business of supergroups was to prove to be the thing in the 70s, starting with Blind Faith, which Eric Clapton and Baker formed with Steve Winwood and Ric Grech in early 1969. From: https://www.udiscovermusic.com/stories/cream-farewell-concert/
Crystal Beth - Push Thru
Beth Fleenor is one of the many gems in Seattle. From her management group, The Frank Agency, to her band, Crystal Beth, Fleenor is focused on artistic expression and beautiful human connection. The Monarch had a chance to chat with Fleenor about her work, her music, her fears and her joys.
Jake Uitti: When you’re walking around in town or in conversation and you hear the word ‘Frank’ what goes through your mind?
Beth Fleenor: Ha! After 9 years of running the Frank Agency, ‘Frank’ has become so much it’s own entity in my life – as an outlet for a particular aspect of my personality, as a structural system of support and as a reflection pool – that I automatically refer all things related to that word/name back to my Frank. At least at first. For me it’s such a call to step up to yourself and others honestly, and that ethos comes through as a reminder every time the word comes up, even though its a tough challenge issued.
JU: And that’s sort of funny because, correct me if I’m wrong, did you start the agency with a masculine name to be taken ‘seriously’ or am I totally making that up?
BF: Well, not exactly, but it did come into play. Let’s call it a deep intuition that led to revelation through empirical evidence. The name first came up as a joke. I’ve had this nickname since I was a kid – Beef Weiner, you know, for Beth Fleenor. In 2004 Johanna Kunin – incredible musician and dear friend – made the joke that I should start going by Frank because it’s more elegant for my adult self, and suited my preferred means of communication. So it was a joke – all Beef Frank. At the time, I was graduating college as a performing artist, going through an excruciating divorce, and producing concerts & assisting a few artists individually. I had been doing this work since 1999 and in leaving school I wanted to create a ship to hold all of us – all of the artists, organizations and my own work – a single entity that could build, and transfer knowledge and systems between each of the visionaries I was working with, and amplify their efforts even more. I also saw the need to protect the artists – allowing them space to be focused on the work instead of dealing with the business (because these things really don’t have anything to do with each other, which is another tangent), and the idea of an agency felt like the right vehicle to accomplish that. The agency needed a strong name that communicated what it stood for, and being Frank felt perfect. Let’s deal with the nitty-gritty up front, straight to the point – we all know what has to happen here, so let’s get it done, let’s communicate.
So it became the Frank Agency because it felt right and personally meaningful. Then in taking it on, it opened lines of communication I hadn’t experienced before. Some because of the idea of the “Agency” and some because of the masculine connotation in that it appeared I, Beth, was assisting the man in charge, Frank. Beth was now working for the Frank Agency. It was actually startling to realize how much that made a difference in some people’s confidence in me – or how shocked they were to learn the truth. There was definitely a shift in how people interacted with the masculine name – the tone of conversation was altered. Ultimately though, the greatest gift that has come out of the name is that it functions as a buffer for Beth the artist, and Beth the person, to not be affected by the business. Frank deals with that stuff – Beth focuses on the art.
JU: So, you’re a musician and an accomplished one at that. What – to touch on that tangent – is the dichotomy between the work, the art, and the work of the agency as an entity for the artist?
BF: Let’s start with what is similar. I see it all as communication – whether musically, linguistically, or interpersonally. That’s my stake in it. My overall philosophy is that “Art is the discipline of being” – that human being and living in and of itself are the creative process. We are generating, creating, and improvising all the time (we have a lot to learn from the discipline of art). It’s in everything we do, and the more focus we bring to the act of living, the more mindful and dynamic the experience of it can become. At the same time, being an artist means pulling that awareness through the body and letting it collect and be redistributed in communication with others through the individual’s voice/perspective – that’s where the discipline comes in. Being willing and able to get down in the mud and sift for the truth & beauty, and try to then interact with it through a chosen medium. And do it over and over again, without concern for where it is leading – just working with the process and content itself. Trying to clarify a thought.
I think the actual “artwork” that is created is actually the feeling it transmits to whomever is experiencing it – it lives inside of the experiencer – the rest (or the hardcopy delivery system of the work, tangible, or intangible in the case of music) is an “artifact.”
The professional artist then has to figure out a system to connect those artifacts to the people who need/want them. I believe that there’s a place for everyone and the objective is to find the right audience to receive the work, and possibilities for the artist to sustain and create new work for a lifetime. This is where the divergence starts. People are not products – they’re a process. Artworks and artifacts are not products, they are a process delivery system. A work of art is an experience. But our world is collectively obsessed with products and doesn’t know how to deal with a living, breathing, changing process or experience.
For the artists, this becomes complicated because making the work and talking about the work are not the same thing. It’s hard to have perspective about what you’ve created. It’s hard to find more words to describe it when you’ve spent so much energy creating the thing itself. And the focus of the artist should be on continuing to create and investigate the work, not on promoting, propagating, and explaining it. But to continue to have support – fiscal and audience – to make new work, to stay active – that takes an immense amount of planning, development, instigation and implementation. A constant conversation, and a seemingly unending list of decisions – and this becomes more so the case with each year.
In addition to the logistical aspects of maintaining a career, there are also two expectations of artists that I think are exceedingly difficult to process: One is that you are in a constant state of struggling to create something new, and making arbitrary decisions to seek support for a work – trying to clearly communicate to possible funders about something that has not yet been created, and then two, once it’s created, telling the world about it, trying to get people interested in it, and then releasing it to be criticized. It being “you” the artist in most cases.
The Frank Agency was created to assist artists in the clarification, articulation and amplification of their vision, while simultaneously connecting audiences to work that moves them. I’ve worked for the last 14 years in areas including management, concert production, grant writing, promotion & publicity, marketing, booking, development, strategic planning, and the like, to try to offer artists more opportunity to focus on the work itself. Eight years ago I also added in an increased focus on artist therapy, resuscitation, and oxygenation, as I’ve come to understand more about the immense psychological pressure heaped on artists trying to maintain a professional career.
As an artist, the fact that there is no destination becomes very apparent. No matter what success you have, you must continue to work to sustain. There is always more, there is no end, there is no place of comfort or rest. Therefore, creating a healthy system for yourself, in which you can maintain & deepen your work and also not be in a constantly dramatic state with it, is paramount. You can’t take any of your personal validity, or the validity of your work, from the response or support it receives. Positive or negative, public opinion is separate from the work itself. Continue to realign and focus only on the work. That’s Frank’s viewpoint, and Frank reminds fragile artist Beth, and all the other fragile humans as well. As I always tell myself, “Just because you understand the process doesn’t mean you don’t have to go through the process.”
JU: So, in addition to all this work, this delving into the philosophy of creation, sharing, listening to audiences and yet realizing the work is, in a way, separate from the audience, where does Crystal Beth fit in?
BF: The short answer is that Crystal Beth is the release valve, the hurl every inch of yourself into the ring and feel it all simultaneously, visceral presence check point – the “this is it, one shot at being alive right now – push it to the edge” kind of release valve, but through my ritual – through my raw authentic sound. Music is like this consolidated, concentrated, seamless microscopic transmission of the macrocosm, which is human experience. With everything I do, ultimately, my interest is in a shared experience of connection. That connection is there all the time – between everything – but we’re surrounded by it so we often forget about it – the Alan Watts corollary is that the fish doesn’t know it’s in water – I love that, I think about it a lot… especially when I’m lonely. The way I see it, life is an experience that no one else can experience, that everyone is experiencing simultaneously. Each person has an individual voice/language, entirely unique to them, sculpted through their existence. To find this, and have opportunity to share it openly, in any form, is a vulnerable and intimate experience which gives rise to the deepest sense of connection.
For me, Crystal Beth is that voice. It’s as “me” as it gets – with all its greatness and deep, deep flaws, Crystal Beth allows me to explore the dynamics of self. This is the first band I’ve ever had that entirely plays my songs. All of my past projects as a leader have been mostly improvisation based, with a few written pieces thrown in as triggers or pivot points. In Crystal Beth & the Boom Boom Band it’s all of these strange chant-based songs that I’ve been working on, back to back in the set. It’s intense for me, to show that much of my true self, to let myself have fun with it and embrace it, not judge it, and revel in it – to enjoy existing as the form that I am, accepting all of it and trying to dance with it. My hope is that if I can open up, if I can accept myself, it will inspire others to do the same and we can share our connection more openly. I’ve been lucky to find a collection of musicians that speak Bethnic and are willing to work through it with me, and we’ve been sweating it out and trying to learn how to throw enough sound that we can push through to that other plane – where we realize how connected and powerful we are in that state of empathic presence. I adore those folks, the Workshop Ensemble players too, it’s similar there, but with a little less alien disco, primal screaming and hair metal *wink*.
From: https://www.themonarchreview.org/a-frank-interview-with-crystal-beth-fleenor/
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