MediaBanda - Bombas en el Aire

MediaBanda is a multigenerational group founded by Cristián Crisosto (Fulano, Santiago del Nuevo Extremo), which is positioned as one of the most important exponents of fusion and avant-garde in the Chilean music scene. It is characterized by its eclectic and energetic proposal, enriched by various styles such as rock, jazz, funk, pop, Latin American fusion and contemporary music, among others. Throughout their 18 years of experience, they have performed numerous concerts and participated in various festivals within Chile, as well as toured Europe and Mexico, supported by four studio albums.
“Bombas en el Aire” is the band's fourth studio album, which had to wait seven years after its predecessor album “Siendo Perro”, where there were also changes in the members, one of the most notable being the vocalist Arlette. Jequier. This is how the album is presented, which maintains the experimental sense and versatility in its musicality.
The album begins with “I learned about Facebook”, whose sound details at the beginning comprise an orchestral and experimental perception typical of seventies styles. The textures that are formed from synthesizers, percussion and string instruments give us the prelude to the variety and musical exquisiteness brought to listeners who enjoy the experimental. The rhythmic structure is generated by all the instruments, giving an organized and sequenced atmosphere by different tempos and moments where jazz madness is unleashed; ending the song with the same instrumental sequencing created.
“Bombas en el Aire”, the album's eponymous song, begins with the prominence of the saxophones and the rhythm of the bass and guitar. Here, the vocalist takes more prominence: “Bombs in the air. There is no one to breathe anymore, there is no one to breathe our air.” The rhythm from here on takes on more rock nuances, with marked presences of the string instruments while the synthesizer adds melodic details in the background. Likewise, wind instruments have their space; each moment being a sum where they mark the general structure of the song. In the middle of the song, the guitar solo is spectacular, where it shows off various techniques such as hammering and tapping. All from a shred style.
Then we have “El Sofá”, which begins with a synthesizer that sets the rhythm together with the drums and bass. From the beginning it transmits lucidity and stillness, despite the marked rhythmic structure and with the jazz imprint that challenges the listener to predict what is to come. Later, the saxophones are added that are assembled with the synthesizer; resulting in a relaxing melody. When the voice is included, the rhythm continues its course but with some breaks, evolving to greater complexity from the drums and in the bass line when autotune is added to the voice. Reaching the end, there is a break where it becomes more atmospheric, where the guitar marks the chords with delay. At the end, the synthesizer takes on a more spatial timbre, giving a more enveloping nuance at the end of the song.
“Mi Ego me Odia” is a song whose development ranges from quieter moments to more rock and funk-style musical landscapes, resulting in an entertaining song. We advance towards “Perfectible”, which begins with the wind instruments already the protagonists at this point, giving the prelude to the rhythmic structure generated by the drums and bass. Without a doubt, throughout the album, one of the elements to highlight is the complexity in the rhythm, where the bass-drums relationship is essential for the general instrumental assembly. In this song, the different harmonies generated by synthesizer and guitars also stand out, which adorn the song with an experimental sound, where there are even moments more linked to hip-hop. “Plausible Deterioration of Erroneous Icons” is the sixth song that presents us with a softer and calmer beginning, and then jumps to the intensity of the participation of all the instruments. From rock to more hip-hop moments, we have a song that stands out musically for its ability to naturally intertwine the different genres involved, not forcing bridges between one moment and another.
Then we have “ Wikistan”, the longest song on the album, which begins with an interesting bass line adorned by more crystalline textures provided by the synthesizer, and then the drums and electric guitar are added. From it’s beginnings it transmits a certain relaxation made more complex by the different textures given by keys, strings and winds; where the voice is finally added. Likewise, the complement given by the guest DJ 's arrangements is appreciated, making the scratches that adorn the song very well. In the middle of the song, we have a notable saxophone solo that is complemented by the multiplicity of instruments that the band contains, ending with the melody with a lot of guitar gain.
Coming to the end of the album, we have “Mediabanda”, which begins with some jazz synth chords, where then the drums and bass come into play with an unorthodox structure and where the synth delay generates a sense of depth to the song that, together with the singer's lyrics, generates a very pleasant sensation for the listener. The required saxophones are added later, showing once again the quality and execution technique present in all the songs. Later we have a notable bass solo, which finally translates into a more intense and stimulating rhythm, where each second generates a restlessness that finally sees its end with some last melodies generated by the saxophones.
Without a doubt, the album is notable for its harmonic, melodic and rhythmic complexity, where the musicians stand out for their variety of techniques that they execute in different rhythmic and genre scenarios. Likewise, being an experimental album, it constantly tests us and takes us on a small journey full of musicality and varied atmospheres. A sign that in Chile there are top-level musicians.  From: https://rocklegacy-cl.translate.goog/2021/05/21/review-mediabanda-bombas-en-el-aire/?_x_tr_sl=es&_x_tr_tl=en&_x_tr_hl=en&_x_tr_pto=sc

Döda Havet - Flykten

Once in a while, an album shows up, almost out of nowhere, and instantly knocks me out cold, managing to hit all my weak spots and settle firmly in my ears. The Swedes in Döda Havet are balancing perfectly on that edge between being progressive rock, and on the other side clearly coming from the side of alternative / art-rock. Still, there are enough progressive elements and quirky songwriting here that any fan of bands like Anathema, Anekdoten, or late-era Marillion should find plenty to enjoy about “Tid och rum” (Time and Space). One of my fellow Progspace writers mentioned that they also feel like a sibling of Vulkan, another excellent Swedish band we reviewed here just a short while ago, and I can’t help but agree with him. It feels natural to describe the band simply as “progressive rock”, but that might conjure up images of the big 70’s bands. Döda Havet has definitely some of those genes in its DNA, but there is a much more contemporary, modern feel to the band’s music.
From reading my initial paragraph, I guess it’s apparent that I did not know about the band before this album dropped into my email.  But going back into their discography revealed only one previous release, namely their self-titled debut album from 2016. And honestly, since discovering the band, I’ve spent quite a few hours listening to the debut album as well. It’s excellent in so many ways, but this review is, of course, not about that album. I feel “positive melancholia” is a good way to describe the emotional impact of Döda Havets music. It’s that kind of good memory that shows up in your mind occasionally, of places and events in your life you enjoyed or people you loved, but at the same time a sense of sadness that you can’t go back there. Those moments are indeed lost in time and space.
There is a sense of longing in the swedes music, exemplified in a track like ‘Atlantis Mitt’ (which could mean “My Atlantis” in Swedish, but also “the centre of Atlantis”). A haunting, wistful melody, carried efficiently and with great pathos by vocalist and guitarist Staffan Stensland Vinrot. The track communicates a longing to find yourself, or perhaps your place among people. A feeling of finally returning to some honest sense of self. Vinrot is the core the band was built around, as the idea of putting together a band around his compositions happened after he recorded his music in the studio of, now Döda Havet bassist, Lawrence Mackrory.  I haven’t been able to find out if “Tid och rum” was recorded at the same location, but on this album, the sound is precise, warm and pleasant. As a side note, fans of more classic progmetal might, of course, know Mackrory from death/thrashers Darkane, or for being the vocalist on the original edition of Andromeda‘s debut album “Extension of the Wish.
A part of why I enjoyed this so much, is the lyrical content, where I, as a Norwegian, am luckily familiar enough with the Swedish language, to enjoy them. They are beautiful little poems and generally add to the overall melancholic feel of the album. I’m not gonna try my hand at translating the lyrical content, as with poetry or lyrics, I feel meaning often gets lost (or even added) in translation. But I can say as much as they are connected to the human experience, whether its dreams, mental-health, loneliness or a longing to find back to your true “home” and with that your honest self. I feel like Stensland Vinrot genuinely has something he wants to communicate with his lyrics and that sincerity is apparent in his writings.
After several listens, it starts to become clear how rich and detailed the music of Döda Havet really is. The songs are all layered with delicate melodies, supported by a warm hearty pulse perfectly applied by Mackrory, on top of a rock-solid rhythmic foundation built by drummer Martin Pettersson. Together with the guitars from the above mentioned Vinrot and Peter Garde Lindholm they create a surprisingly measured, yet massive sound. Listen to the ending of the second track of the album ‘Arcana’ for an example of the heavy groove the band at times creates. The heaviness mentioned above is perfectly contrasted and amplified by remarkable additions from keyboardist Julia Stensland Vinrot. She masterfully enhances the atmospheres created by the band, at times carrying the songs, and at other times supplementing the sound with delicious little intricacies. If there is an “unsung hero” in this band, it is her. Listen to the details of one of my favourite tracks, the heart-wrenchingly beautiful ‘Hjärnspöket” to hear examples of what I’m trying to describe.
In a genre where it feels like every other release is a 75-minute concept album, it is refreshing to receive a shorter, more concise release. “Tid och rum” is just around 35 minutes, and I feel that is the perfect length. That does not mean I do not want to hear more music from the band, but for this experience, it’s just what’s needed. Eight self-contained songs, uniformly connected by the general mood of the album. Nothing more, nothing less. I won’t go on any longer about the sophistication of this release. I’ll just say that“Tid och rum”, ladies and gentlemen, is a modest little masterpiece!  From: https://theprogspace.com/doda-havet-tid-och-rum/

Gaye Su Akyol - Bir Yarali Kustum

Born in Istanbul in 1985, Gaye Su Akyol studied social anthropology at university and went on to forge a path as a successful painter, having her work exhibited both in Turkey and abroad. At the same time she also performed in the bands Mai (2004) and Toz Ve Toz (2007), and in 2009 she formed the duo Seni Görmem İmkansız (It's Impossible For Me To See You) with Tuğçe Şenoğul. After several years Akyol embarked on a solo career and, utilising the services of the three-piece band Bubituzak, released her first full-length Develerle Yaşıyorum (I’m Living With Camels) in 2014. Mixing up traditional Turkish melodies and structures with elements of psychedelia, surf rock and grunge, underpinned by a distinctively elegant and at times hypnotic vocal delivery, she was soon established as one of the country's most compelling contemporary voices with one eye locked on the past and the other fixed on future horizons. In addition, the unconventional theatricality she lends to her craft, whether performing live or conceptualising album artwork, provides a visual spectacle that seems perfectly married to her music. In 2016 Akyol released Hologram İmparatorluğu (Hologram Empire) on Glitterbeat Records and, further propelling the expansion of her musical boundaries, the new album İstikrarlı Hayal Hakikattir (Consistent Fantasy Is Reality) is released on 26 October, also on Glitterbeat. Shane Woolman caught up with her on a recent visit to the UK.

Shane Woolman: What are some of your earliest influences?

Gaye Su Akyol: The first things that really influenced me were my mother’s musical tastes and her beautiful voice. She was frequently listening to Turkish classical music at home from the only channel that existed on television, which was the government’s channel, and it was always playing old-school classical Turkish songs so I was always listening and trying to sing them. I see the essence of this when I look at my vocal technique. My second biggest crush was when I was about ten years old and I remember the first time I heard my older brother play Nirvana and my mind was blown, you know? I couldn’t believe it and I asked him "what’s that?" and he explained that this is Nirvana. This was in 1995 so Kurt Cobain was already dead. This was my second crush. After that I tried to find my own influences, digging into music with the help of my uncle who was listening to sixties and seventies rock’n’roll like Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones. I found my own influences like Dick Dale, The Ventures, The Lively Ones, Jefferson Airplane, Morphine, Mudhoney, Sonic Youth and after that, when I was seventeen, it was artists like Nick Cave and Tom Waits – there were so many bands but these are just the first names that I remember. There’s also a long list of Turkish musicians like Erkin Koray, Barış Manço, Moğollar, Selda Bağcan, Müzeyyen Senar, Ulvi Cemal Erkin, Münir Nurettin Selçuk, Zeki Müren and so on.

Your father is a well-known artist, did he influence your desire to be an artist?

Of course, he had a huge impact. You know, when you are a child you assume that everybody’s parents are like yours, it’s such a big delusion. My father was always a free soul, he is a rock star in another universe [laughs]. Not the perfect type of father but one of a kind. Our house was covered with his paintings on the walls which I grew up looking at, writing stories in my mind all the time. He is also good at poems, words and metaphors, and he was always reading from his own poems or others from his favourite poets who were mostly his friends. Actually he influenced me with his way of combining his art with the culture he grew up in, without any prejudice and looking from a wider perspective. This is what makes his art original, instinctive, universal and timeless I guess. “Being yourself” is the key here. Have you seen the movie Big Fish? In it there’s a fantastic father who’s always telling amazing stories and you can’t be sure whether they are fake or real - his son in the film is not sure either - but who cares? And what does “real” mean anyway?

So music played a big part in your family life?

None of my family were professional musicians but lots of different genres were played at home which led me to a wide selection of music. My mother was listening to old, classical Turkish musicians like Müzeyyen Senar, Zeki Müren and Münir Nurettin Selçuk, while my father was listening to Turkish folk music like Ruhi Su and Aşık Veysel, and also Western classical music like Mozart, Beethoven, Stravinsky and Brahms. We were also living on the same street as my grandparents and my uncle. My uncle played the bağlama [a traditional Turkish stringed instrument] and was traveling a lot because of his job as a journalist. He collected musical instruments from all over the world, especially percussive ones, and we used to improvise with them when we got together. He also had a great collection of rock music from the 1960s and ‘70s. And my brother was listening to rock’n’roll and grunge bands so home was the beginning of my musical adventure.

It’s like the essence of what your music is.

Of course, and there’s so much music that I discovered later and all of this comes together, I guess.

You’re a big fan of Zeki Müren, who’s a very important figure in Turkish music and entertainment. What is it about him that you really admire?

You know, he had a unique voice and he didn’t look like anybody else or act like anybody else. He was one of a kind. He was also a dreamer, a revolutionary guy in Turkey’s conservative reality with his music and with his vision. He was an LGBT person so he made people accept him just by being the way he was, and this was something very huge and important for Turkey, and for the world of course. He created a revolution, that’s the point – with the combination of his music and his appearance, his choices – he carried classical Turkish music to a new level, took it from a small region and spread it to almost all of the social layers, he made it popular and glamorous. You know it’s not that easy to be an LGBT artist but he succeeded while gaining a lot of respect. And he was appearing on the government’s channels with all his clothes, jewellery and make up, which was really very surrealistic. He was the designer of these fantastic clothes by the way. So the point is this: he was like a superhero who damaged the norms while creating his own normal, and he made everybody believe in it.

He did a lot to make Turkish society accepting of openly gay artists. Is the Turkish music scene and society in general relaxed about that today?

Honestly this is a very complicated issue. I think it’s the same throughout the world, it has been changing a bit maybe in the last ten years, but I feel that people are very two-faced. The society we live in is not honest about gay people, minorities, different subcultures or inclinations. Frankly this is also the government’s conscious political view. To be able to control the people, they need obedient, regular, “normal” robots. So if we go back to your question: everybody will accept a gay artist until they are open!
This is what is going on in Turkey. Zeki Müren didn’t say at any point that he was gay but of course it was so obvious from everything he did. It feels like it’s okay until you confess it, not just in Turkey but in the world. It’s a great dissimulation. Nobody ever had the courage to openly ask him about it, or when they did he changed the subject or something, so I wish we could have a world where everybody can be who they want to be and confess anything they have inside, this is the freedom that we really need.
But society is two-faced. There are lots of gay social media phenomenons who have two or three million followers on Instagram in Turkey, they earn money from people’s enormous interest, but society refuses to see gay people in any other professions like the health industry or education system. They are only visible or to be accepted in the “entertainment industry” or live their life closely to be able to do their job. This is a taboo that needs to be broken as soon as possible and we should start to discuss it publicly.

Earlier you mentioned Selda. Was she a big influence?

Yeah. She’s a great musician with such a unique voice, she’s a producer, record label owner, she wrote songs, she is super talented about covering old folk songs and bringing new aspects to them. And what makes her story more unique is that she is also a revolutionary, a very important figure in liberalisation. You know, she always talked what she believed and was put in jail sometimes – so she was always for freedom. That’s why I’m really interested in her opinions, her music and her importance in Turkish music.

How was it to perform on the same bill as Selda recently?

It was an honour and a pleasure for me, a dream come true. But the funny part is we had never played together in Turkey, this was the first time. It was really beautiful, an historic moment.

Do you see yourself as continuing the issues of social justice, the things that Selda was concerned with in her music… do you see yourself as part of that same wave?

Different waves but the same sea! I think everybody is making their own waves and I prefer that, and of course Selda and I share the same ideas, the same philosophy about freedom, free minds, the equal rights of people, liberalisation. Whoever is really into freedom, we are in the same sea.

What are your thoughts on the current Turkish psych revival?

There are so many great, young bands in Turkey right now that really make cool music… it’s because, you know, when the pressure gets bigger, the art needs a way to express itself and grows insidiously. This is maybe one of the only good side effects of the situation there. But still most of them need to be more courageous and they shouldn’t be afraid of their own culture.

The title of your new album translates as Consistent Fantasy Is Reality which refers to a concept called consistent dreaming, which you regard as the strongest option people have "to challenge organised evil and the horrible reality it creates"... could you explain this idea a little further?

We are living in a dualist world full of injustice, inequality, and grief but also love, passion, and art at the same time. Life turns into what you are convinced of. People looking at the same point can perceive totally different things, so there is not “one reality”, there are actually infinite realities even in one mind. Reality changes according to an individual’s perception. So at this point my mind asks the question: if the reality we are living in is quite absurd but the only thing that makes it real is consistency, then what is the difference between a consistent fantasy and reality? We do not know if we are living in a simulation or holographic world but I do know that the software of this life is based on “dreaming the reality”. You can connect this with quantum theory or anything else. The world is ruled by idiots who lack imagination while the rest of the world feels powerless and hopeless. What these people are missing is the power of consistent dreaming. If we see the same dream then it becomes our mass reality and the only thing left is to take action which is quite simple when you believe in it. As Picasso once said “Everything you can imagine is real” and none of the organised evil can survive against it.

How long did the album take to record? Were most of the songs written in advance of the recording process or did they develop in the studio?

We recorded the guitar, bass, drums and percussion in three days. Then the additional instruments and vocals took a couple of weeks because of the concert traffic. After releasing the second album Hologram Imparatorluğu in 2016 the new songs started appearing and they were ready to be recorded in advance of the recording process.

The instruments used on the album have been expanded with the inclusion of the bağlama, saxophone, trumpet and electronic beats – was this a conscious step or more of a natural progression? Are there any specific sounds that you would like to incorporate in your music that you haven't yet used?

I love to expand the boundaries, to experiment and develop new sounds. I like to bring together the sounds that are not so much familiar to each other. It’s like in some languages there are words that don't exist in your mother language, so you realise that you’ve never felt that feeling before you heard that word. This is the same when it comes to music: the meeting of two harmonically unfamiliar sounds gives me the feeling of enthusiasm. When writing the songs I hear particular sounds and instruments for specific parts in my head while arranging them and the instrument serves the feelings and the mood. The arrangement of a song changes everything so I like to expand the musical boundaries as much as possible.

It's interesting to hear the cover version of Bariş Manço's “Hemşerim Memleket Nere” on your new album – the song's themes of equality are still extremely relevant in today's world. If you had to choose an English-language song to cover, what would it be?

“Hemşerim Memleket Nere” is a magnificent song with its lyrics, arrangement and Anatolian Rock essence. It is topical but also universal with it’s philosophy, metaphors and sounds. As you said, it is relevant in today’s world and that’s why I wanted to cover it. If I had to choose an English song to cover, it would be “Good” or “You Look Like Rain” by Morphine. I would put some Turkish instruments in it; probably bağlama, bendir and strings. Last year we did a cover of “Love Buzz” by Shocking Blue, also covered by Nirvana, and we sometimes play it at our concerts but haven’t released it yet.

You've recently been involved in the soundtrack of a Turkish television production called Dip. How different was the process of working on this project compared to recording an album? Are soundtracks an area you'd like to explore more in the future?

I love to collaborate with artists from different disciplines, either for a soundtrack to a film I like or something visual. Recording an album is pure freedom for me, I have my own plans, rules, and aesthetic preferences which makes the process more comfortable, but a soundtrack is a mutual relationship with lots of parameters and the process of working is often bound by the demands of the collaborator. Yet it is enjoyable when you like each other’s works. We recently performed in an old cinema, soundtracking an old Turkish B-Movie classic called Yilmayan Seytan while watching the film with the audience which was such great fun. These kind of unique ideas really motivate me. There were several new tracks made just for the film and we’re planning to release them as an album in 2019.

Have you got any other projects planned for the future that you'd like to talk about?

An album called Remiks Imparatorluğu will be released in 2019 which was curated by Kaan Düzarat and consists of remixes of tracks on my second album by DJs from around the world. Also a documentary film about Hologram İmparatorluğu will be released. It’s by Irmak Altıner and features the recording process and footage from various concerts plus music writer Murat Meriç’s analysis of my music’s historical and sociological context. A cover album with an anthology of old Turkish songs is another project for 2019.

From: https://www.thewire.co.uk/in-writing/interviews/gaye-su-akyol-interview

Crown Lands - Lady Of The Lake

“It’s the classic story,” says Kevin Comeau of the band Crown Lands. “Most musicians and artists are usually the weird kids that don’t necessarily fit in. I was a big overachiever and worked really hard in school, but it wasn’t like I was interested in anything other than music.” As the only Jewish student at his Oshawa high school, Comeau found refuge in rock and roll and a kindred spirit in Cody Bowles, a Two-Spirit Mi’kmaw from the neighbouring community of Bowmanville. “I was the only kid in my school who listened to the kind of music that I did,” Bowles says, listing off a series of prog-rockers: Yes, King Crimson, Genesis and especially hometown heroes, Rush, whom both musicians idolize. “I grew up with a lot of racism, and it was a hard time,” Bowles adds. “We were like misfit kids,  and it was kind of fated for us to find each other.”
The pair met in university in 2015: Comeau studied classical music at Western University, while Bowles studied psychology and music at York University. The duo’s origin story reads like a real-life retelling of “Subdivisions,” the 1982 Rush song about alienated suburban teenagers. Comeau echoes that song’s lyric about learning to “conform or be cast out.” “We learned not to bring it up with certain people,” he says, referring to the intolerance the duo endured. “We knew if you meet someone and you hear them say a couple of weird things, you say ‘Great’ and just walk away.”
I spoke with Comeau and Bowles via Zoom from their homes in Toronto, just after they finished recording Crown Lands’ new live album, Odyssey Vol. 1, and just before the band headed out on an eastern Canadian tour. Growing up, Comeau and Bowles were careful to mask their identities despite being able to blend in. But now, the two friends are using their musical platform to stand up, stand out, and shine a light on the plight of Indigenous people.
“Being a band called ‘Crown Lands,’ we have to talk about what’s actually going on and the fact that Crown land is stolen land,” says Comeau. “We have to talk about colonization, the ramifications that are still being felt every single day, and the fact that it’s not ancient history.” “It’s ongoing and something we wanted to bring attention to, being in Canada and being a Canadian band,” Bowles adds. The duo didn’t start with a provocative name. “We were brainstorming all these terrible band name ideas,” Bowles says. “The Kevin and Cody Cool Guy Fun Time Hour,” Comeau jokes. When a friend suggested Crown Lands, the pair took a deep dive into Canada’s colonial past and present before deciding to take a stand. However, Bowles was initially uncomfortable with the idea of writing about issues that hit so close to home; they needed some convincing. Comeau recognized that taking on Indigenous themes struck at the core of his bandmate’s identity and didn’t press. But the pair had some frank discussions, and Bowles came around: “Given our platform and being able to talk about things, I felt a sense of honouring my path as a creative musician,” they say.
The pair have written  a trilogy of songs, “Mountain,” “End of the Road” and “White Buffalo,” that focus on the past, present and future of Indigenous people in Canada. Spanning four years, two EPs and a full-length album, the songs also track the band’s evolution from a punk-blues outfit reminiscent of The White Stripes to prog rockers who can compete with the likes of Primus, Tool and spiritual forebears Rush. Set against the backdrop of Comeau’s snarling slide guitar, “Mountain” recounts the arrival of European colonizers and the beginning of Indigenous resistance. “End of the Road” has Bowles singing about the plight of murdered and missing Indigenous women, girls, and Two-Spirit people in a voice that recalls Led Zeppelin’s Robert Plant (another major influence) and chords that echo Canadian new wave sensation Platinum Blonde. With its anthemic chorus, “White Buffalo,” the title track of the band’s most recent EP, uses the image of the creature as a call to reclaim ceded land, stand against the darkness and build a bright future: “Like a White Buffalo / Standing strong in the fading light / From deep in the shadows / Our spirits rise.”
The stark simplicity of these uplifting lyrics, combined with Bowles’ propulsive drumming and Comeau’s echo-soaked guitar solo—a tribute to Rush’s Alex Lifeson—showcase the band’s songwriting and performance skills. “White Buffalo” is a stadium-ready pop-prog gem that blends irresistible hooks, a powerful message and complex rhythmic and musical changes in a sub-four-minute song. “When we played a song like ‘Mountain’ about the horrors of colonization, Cody did a quick spoken word about missing and murdered Indigenous women, children and Two-Spirit people. Back in the days we were on tour, Indigenous women came up to us at the merch table and said, ‘Thank you for representing us,’” Comeau says. “That’s really fucking special, and that was when we realized we were absolutely doing the right thing.”
Taking a stand on Indigenous issues was a major step for the band in forging its unique identity. But expanding Crown Lands’ musical horizons was another way forward for Bowles and Comeau, one that meant embracing their prog-rock ambitions. “Kevin and I always loved prog,” says Bowles. “When we got together, we decided against going right there because it was so easy to do. But it was for a pragmatic reason, too. We thought that it would be better off to start with something easier to digest, easier to chew on.” “It’s easier to write three-minute songs,” agrees Comeau, but the band had a change of heart. “After our first record,” continues Bowles. “I was feeling more pulled to something more progressive, and we both felt that collectively. We were, like, fuck it! We’re just going to do this. We’re going to come together and really lean into what we were feeling this whole time.”
Embracing their roots and following in their heroes’ footsteps brought Comeau and Bowles into the orbit of three veteran producers who had worked with Rush. The duo recorded a demo of “Context: Fearless Pt. 1” in Toronto with Terry Brown, who helmed the first 10 Rush albums. In January 2020, they were headed to Nashville to cut a new version with producer Nick Raskulinecz, who had worked on the last two Rush albums, when they heard that Rush drummer Neil Peart had died. Devastated, Comeau and Bowles pondered cancelling the session, but the veteran producer urged them to carry the torch. When they started recording, he surprised them with Peart’s drum kit from Rush’s 2007-2008 Snakes & Arrows tour. It marked the beginning of a new chapter of Crown Lands’ existence and a return to their musical roots. “We went down there, and it was kind of like a rebirth of who we are musically. It was a high watermark for turning a new page and playing Neil’s kit was transcendent,” Bowles recalls. “It was like a return home because this was the music that Cody and I bonded over, and we were finally making music that sounded like the music we worshipped,” Comeau says. “With the people who actually made it,” interrupts Bowles. “It was absolutely surreal.” The band also penned “Right Way Back,” a lyrical tribute to Peart, during their time in Tennessee.
But the duo couldn’t return to Nashville to complete the recording session due to the pandemic, leading Crown Lands to work with a third Rush collaborator, David Bottrill, who had remixed Rush’s 17th album, Vapour Trails. Bottrill recorded the vocals for Bowles on the April 2021 single “Context: Fearless Pt. 1” and produced the band’s September EP, White Buffalo, which includes “The Oracle,” a 13-minute sequel of sorts to that earlier track. Crown Lands’ new live album, Odyssey Vo1. 1, was recorded at History, a new concert venue in Toronto’s East End, but without an audience. The show was captured on video, streamed on the Louder Sound network of websites (Prog, Classic Rock, Metal Hammer, and One Louder), and is currently available on the band’s YouTube page. The album itself will be released on Dec. 2 digitally and as a deluxe vinyl package. Inspired by the soundstage live performances of classic rock bands of the 1970s, Odyssey Vol. 1 captures the raw power of the Crown Lands concert experience. On stage, Comeau and Bowles reproduce their studio compositions without the benefit of sequencers and backing tracks. One can only marvel at two musicians producing so much sound.
In concert, the bearded Comeau stalks the stage, switching between acoustic and electric guitars, slinging a Rickenbacker double neck bass/guitar combo, kicking at Moog Taurus synthesizer pedals and even playing keys. The angelic Bowles seamlessly blends multi-octave vocals with frenetic polyrhythmic drumming and percussion, and has recently added traditional flutes and mandolin to their musical repertoire. Together, the pair is visually and aurally mesmerizing. Despite Comeau’s claims that they are rougher around the edges than their prog-rock progenitors, Crown Lands’ musicianship puts them on similar footing with their heroes. “We grew up loving prog bands from right before music videos blew up on MTV,” Comeau says. “You can find all these great live performances of bands on soundstages. Instead of miming to music, they were going in to play what they’d just finished in the studio. And a great example of that is the “Villa Strangiato” official music video [by Rush]. But it’s not the studio track. It’s one of my favourite live versions of the song. We kind of wanted to capture a bit of that as well. And obviously, you know, you can tell if a band is any good by going to watch their live stuff.”
As performers and individuals, Comeau and Bowles effortlessly blur the gender binary. Comeau, who describes both of them as feminine, bristles at traditional notions of masculinity. “There’s this weird expectation to play up to the rules that you were born into, and I think it’s kind of strange.” Adopting a cartoonish Tarzan voice, he adds: “You don’t have to subscribe to the societal notion, ‘Me man. Me must carry girl.’” “There’s no rulebook,” Bowles concludes. “It’s funny that people buy into it like it’s the law. But it’s fairly new in the timescale of the Americas that this rigid dichotomy between male and female has been in force. “Gender is ancient and fluid and unrestricted,” Bowles says “It’s only these things that we put upon ourselves and these limitations that we force upon ourselves that really confine our spirit. The more we let go and detach from this thought of what should be and the perception you were born like this, therefore you must be like this… if we can detach ourselves from thoughts like that, I feel like the world will be better, and people’s mental health will be way better than it is currently. “Everyone’s different in different ways, and there’s different modalities of being. I feel like there’s a real shift in young people’s awareness of this. I feel like in the future, it’s going to be brighter, more colourful, and people are going to be more themselves than ever.”  From: https://xtramagazine.com/culture/music/crown-lands-prog-rock-comeau-bowles-213645

Pretenders - Birds of Paradise

Ah, the sophomore slump, which can happen when an artist who spent their whole life writing their first album has only a few months to write the next. Invariably, the record they rush to release pales in comparison to the debut that made them famous. This second album, often written on a tour bus instead of a bedsit (and sounding like it), habitually falls short. After that—and if they’re lucky—the artist will get a chance to rebound with the third LP, and the sophomore effort will subsequently be relegated to the cut-out bins.
The Pretenders avoided the sophomore curse with Pretenders II (which is aptly named since it is nearly a song-for-song copy of their eponymous introductory collection). Still, the album is full of energy and verve. It features the band’s signature blend of rock swagger and pop tenderness and contains one of the finest pieces frontwoman Chrissie Hynde ever wrote. It stands amongst the band’s best LPs, but it has the sad distinction of being the last recording made by the original lineup before the untimely deaths of lead guitarist James Honeyman-Scott and bassist Pete Farndon in 1982 and 1983, respectively.
Before that — in 1981 — the Pretenders were flying high from their debut’s success and were playing ever-larger venues on tour. Their manager, Dave Hill, was eager to strike while the iron was hot and release a follow-up. As Chrissie Hynde writes in her 2015 memoir, Reckless: “Dave Hill was panicking, desperate to get a second record out, but I didn’t have the songs written yet. I hadn’t had the time. I thought writing on the road would have happened, but it never does.”
They had found time to record a few tracks, including “Message of Love” and “Talk of the Town”, at Pathé Marconi Studios in Paris. These tunes (plus two new ones and a live recording of “Precious”) were released as the aptly named Extended Play stopgap EP in March 1981. Hynde felt their management had “jumped the gun” by releasing the new material. She explains, “We released it in the US and called it Extended Play to let the Yanks know that it wasn’t an album, but it was a mistake: they thought we’d gone soft in the head by releasing our much-anticipated second album, Extended Play, with only a handful of songs on it.” In the UK, the four new tracks were released as singles (“Message of Love” and “Talk of the Town” were backed by “Porcelain” and “Cuban Slide”, respectively). So, by the time Pretenders II came out five months later, two of its best songs were already known to the band’s devotees. And those weren’t the only songs that had a ring of familiarity.
“Birds of Paradise” and “Talk of the Town” are the highlights of Pretenders II, as they prove that for all her hard rock posturing, Chrissie Hynde can write the hell out of a ballad. Specifically, the former is a meditation on innocence lost and the road not taken (as seen from the vantage point of someone who’s vaulted to stardom, became prey to the vagaries of fame, and wished for a simpler time, all the while knowing there is no way back). Written in epistolary form to a long-lost friend, the song is full of melancholic regret at the chasm separating the two. I still get chills at the drum break that precedes its turning point: “One time, when we took off our clothes / But you were cryin’” and then again as Pete Farndon’s countermelody underscores Hynde’s plaintive lyrics: “Please don’t forget / Do forgive me”.  From: https://www.popmatters.com/pretenders-ii-atr-40

The Shazam - Time 4 Pie

The Shazam are a criminally under-recognized power pop band hailing from the unlikely home of Nashville, Tennessee. They released four LPs between 1997 and 2009, as well as a few EPs and contributions to myriad tribute albums. Firmly on the ‘power’ side of the power pop genre, the Shazam’s sound is an amalgam of Cheap Trick, Material Issue, the heavier tracks on the first Big Star record, and the Who, infused by a healthy dose of ˈ70s glam from the T. Rex or Sweet playbook. At their best, the band and its frontman Hans Rotenberry manage a ridiculous number of earworm hooks, particularly on their essential second album.
The band’s self-titled 1997 debut is surprisingly self-assured, alternating between boisterous rockers that seem to make a bid for arena performances and more restrained, jangly, mid-tempo pop. Not everything hits, but the ratio of sing-along (or belt-along) choruses to less memorable tracks is pretty high for a power-pop long-player. Oh No in particular makes for a compelling band introduction, an energetic anthem that quickly establishes Rotenberry’s gift for radio-ready hooks, while showing off the joyously Keith-Moon-influenced drumming of Scott Ballew (who sadly passed away a few years back). Engine Red is more straightforward pop, a clever indictment of the party-crashing drunk that shows the band to be more lyrically amusing than most of their peers. Other winners like the gentler Megaphone, the anthemic Hooray For Me, and the glammed-up Florida, highlight the band’s stylistic range.
They took a huge leap forward on 1999’s Godspeed The Shazam, arguably one of the finest, most consistent power pop albums ever recorded, nearly every song offering at least one killer hook (if not more) that will be stuck in your head for days. It’s almost impossible to choose a few favorites for a Top 10, but the most obvious pick is Sunshine Tonight, a gleeful bit of Sweet-like high-energy bubblegum, easing from the slow burn of its verse to its chorus exhortation, “Everybody’s falling on their asses, come along ‘cuz it’s a gas gas gas!” Chipper Cherry Daylily offers a similar blast of light-hearted silliness tethered to giddy bubblegum, while the goofy City Smasher veers into a bass-driven faux metal groove with a sly insertion of a Surf City shout-out, over-the-top ridiculousness that demands wall-shaking volume. But the lighter, hook-crazy Calling Sydney and infectious lighter-hoisting power ballad The Stranded Stars, not to mention the whimsical post-election Super Tuesday – another spotlight for Rotenberry’s lyrical twists – are no less compelling.
The 2000 EP REV9 was a bit of a stop-gap pending their next album, a grab-bag of relative oddities. Lead-off track On The Airwaves is heavy-duty glam-pop that would have worked fine on Godspeed, with its blend of spooky theremin and a nicked Rush riff; and Month O’ Moons is cowbell-driven fun. But there are also some quiet ballads and stranger, more experimental tracks, most notably the studio goof Revolution 9, which updates the Beatles’ original with a rocking outro.
They returned in 2003 with Tomorrow The World, shaking off some of the daftness of the EP for a worthy (if less consistent) successor to Godspeed. Tomorrow’s peaks replicate the amped-up pop glory of its predecessor. Gettin’ Higher, like Sunshine Tonight before it, sounds like perfect fodder for Top 40 radio in an alternative universe where riveting guitar rock still has a place on the AM dial (plus, more cowbell!). We Think Yer Dead is rollicking fun, reprising the goofiness of City Smasher, while Nine Times stands firmly in comfortable power pop territory. Goodbye American Man (borrowing a riff from Big Star’s Don’t Lie To Me) and New Thing Baby sound like great lost 70s FM dial hits, all power chords and thunderous rhythm section.
The band took a few years off after that, returning in 2009 for the somewhat lackluster Meteor. Rotenberry comes up a bit short in the hooks department, resulting in a few tracks that feel more like underwhelming hard rock than the effervescent power pop of past work. Still, the album offers a few solid tracks. Hey Mom I Got The Bomb is silly fist-pumping fun, as is lead-off track So Awesome and NFU (as in, “not f*cked up enough”).
Sadly, Meteor was to wind up the band’s final proper album. However, it received a surprising coda with 2010’s Mountain Jack, which paired Rotenberry with the Shazam’s longtime producer Brad Jones (a power pop legend in his own right, with a lengthy resume as an artist and production whiz). It’s much more laid back than the heavy Meteor, peppered with acoustic guitars, and the hooks are more abundant. While the duo share vocal duties, it sounds like a stripped-down Shazam record, songs like Froggy Mountain Shakedown in particular worthy of inclusion in the Shazam discography.
Over the years, scattered among various tribute albums and online releases, the band also put together a nice assortment of covers worth tracking down, ranging from the Who’s I Can See For Miles to Shoes’ Hangin’ Around With You to Teenage Fanclub’s The Concept, all faithful to the originals with jolts of added energy. Word was that the band regrouped later in the decade for a new album, but Ballew’s passing in 2019 seems to have put the kibosh on further work, though one song from the sessions, the moody It’s Doomsday, Honey, streams on Spotify.  From: https://www.toppermost.co.uk/the-shazam/

Niyaz - Minara

Singer Azam Ali was born in Iran, raised in India, and now lives with her Iranian husband, Loga Ramin Torkian, in Los Angeles. Their journey across oceans can be heard in their music. With producer Carmen Rizzo, they created a group called Niyaz, which means "yearning" in both Farsi, the language of Iran, and Urdu, the main language in Pakistan. Niyaz released it second album, "Nine Heavens," this year. It begins with a piece called "Beni Beni," which combines a mystical 18th-century Sufi poem with a traditional Turkish folk song and electronic music.

LIANE HANSEN: Azam and Loga are in our studios at NPR West. Thanks so much for coming to the program. Welcome.

Ms. AZAM ALI (Singer, Niyaz): Thank you so much for having us. It really is an honor to be here.

Mr. LOGA RAMIN TORKIAN (Singer, Niyaz): Yes, thank you so much for having us.

HANSEN: This is an interesting blend of modern electronica with a traditional folk song and sufi mysticism. Remind us briefly what Sufi mysticism is.

Mr. TORKIAN: Sufi mysticism came from Islamic tradition. It essentially developed in Iraq, about something around like 11th century.

Ms. ALI: If I may just add to that, one of the elements that's very appealing to us about Sufi poetry is that it does transcend cultural and religious specificity, because it really is more about the struggles of the human soul, the struggles of the human experience and something that we all share. It really is a universal struggle.

HANSEN: What does "Beni Beni" mean?

Ms. ALI: It means, to me, to me.  "Beni Beni" is really about man struggling with his soul, and he's asking God, well, you put me in this world with all its beauty and yet all I want is to find my way back to you. So you have put me here, and you have not shown me how - how I can find this way back to you. So just please show me, give me some sign, show me how I can find my way back to you.

Mr. TORKIAN: And if I may add, you know, even today, in a lot of Sufi gatherings is always complemented by rhythm and dance. And in fact, the most revered Sufi poet, Rumi, composed his poetries most of the time to the rhythm of what was being played in the gathering along - when the dancers were dancing.

HANSEN: Loga, let me ask you, because the instrumentation on this album is really impressive. Some of the instruments, what are we hearing?

Mr. TORKIAN: For example, I used saws. Saws is a Turkish instrument. I used the lafta, which is also a Turkish instrument. Then from Iran I used the sitar, and also I have created a new instrument called kamman, which is - comes from the family of spike fiddles, and a lot of the bold or the legato sounds were created by that instrument. And then, you know, we've had Indian instruments, the bansuri, which is a flute instrument, tabla, which is a percussive instrument.

HANSEN: Azam, I understand you trained with a Persian master and you're an accomplished hammered-dulcimer player.

Ms. ALI: Yes. Thank you.

HANSEN: Well, this is an instrument that many know because of its use in American folk music. You know, it's essentially a stringed instrument, and you play it almost like a Marimba with four small covered sticks. Is there a difference in the playing or the instrument itself when you play this music on the hammered-dulcimer?

Ms. ALI: Well, the technique is very different, and you know, almost every part of the world has a different variation of this instrument. The Persian style of playing is very much - you know, we mute the mallet, which, you know, trying to get the sound more softer and almost - if you open a piano, it looks identical, you know, it has the muted mallets. So in Persian classical music they try to make it sound more like a piano, but I prefer the bit more folky, sort of rough sound, so I just play it with the stick side.
 
HANSEN: Let me read the English lyrics, too. Faraghi, the separation has caused me immense sorrow. Destiny has me chained to this state. O beloved, release me from these chains for I am bound with the dust in this estranged land. What is it you seek from me that you cast your chains upon a free man?

Ms. ALI: It's very, very easy talking about a physical exile of being far from your homeland, or is it just the exile of a soul being separated from its creator?

HANSEN: Both of you are Iranian and you now live in the United States. Azam, you were raised in India. Can you just tell us a little bit about yourself because on the cover of the album it looks like Los Angeles meets New Delhi meets Iran.

Ms. ALI: Yeah, well, you know, my mother sent me to India when I was four years old to study in an English boarding school, and then the Revolution happened, I was pretty much stuck in India. My mother was in Iran, and I didn't see her for a good six years. And then my mother escaped after, you know, during the Revolution, and she came to India. She lived there for two years. And when I was 15 years old, we came to the U.S. under political asylum because my mother didn't want to go back to Iran.  So, you know, I've been here since 1985, you know, just trying to do the best that I can. It's been very challenging. I came during a difficult time, you know, soon after I was here, you know, Desert Storm. I mean, since I can remember, always, there is so much negative media around Iran and especially nowadays. It's virtually impossible to turn on the news and not hear something negative about Iran. And it's really a struggle for, I would say, every Iranian. You know, in many ways my life's work has become about this. You know, create something that hopefully transcends religion and culture and show people that, you know, at the core, we are all the same.
I tried so hard to just be American and just sort of almost reject my heritage. And it got to a point where I realized, you know, I'm never going to be 100 percent American. I'm never going to 100 percent fit in. So then I began to process within myself of sort of going back and learning about my own culture, embracing my culture. And once I did that, you know, I began to feel much more, sort of, whole. This music is an honest, honest manifestation of who we are as Iranian immigrants.

HANSEN: Azam Ali and her husband Loga Ramin Torkian are members of the ensemble, Niyaz. Their recording, "Nine Heavens," is available on Six Degrees Records. They spoke to us from our studio at NPR West. Thank you so much.

Ms. ALI: Thank you very much for having us.

Mr. TORKIAN: Yes, it's our honor to be here.

From: https://www.npr.org/transcripts/95607779

Daisy House - Leaving The Star Girl

Just stepped out the Tardis, back from a quick trip to San Francisco circa 1967 and I could swear I heard Daisy House blasting out of some greasy spoon on the Castro. They’re that authentic. Welcome to Daisy House. If you love Joni Mitchell, the Mamas and Papas, the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, or Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, then you are going to want to stay awhile. I went to their bandcamp site to download just a few choice cuts but ended up buying it all – they’re that good. It’s not just that they emote a particularly addictive blend of 1960s folk rock and killer harmony vocals; the songwriting is also first class. Daisy House are a father and daughter duo, Doug and Tatiana Hammond, with dad writing and playing on nearly all the songs while both provide vocals. Over four albums, they have developed their clear influences into an impressive body of work.
The debut is simply 2013’s Daisy House. The basic formula is here: twelve string acoustic and electric guitars, a celtic twist in the songwriting, with vocals reminiscent of Joni Mitchell (on “Ready to Go” and “Cold Ships”), the Mamas and Papas (on “Two Sisters”), and Richard and Linda Thompson (on “The Bottle’s Red”). The Byrdsian influence is particularly strong with dad’s vocal on “Statue Maker.” 2014’s Beaus and Arrows reproduces the ambience of the debut, with a few new surprises, like a very early solo Paul Simon atmosphere on the Salinger-inspired “Raise the Roof Beam Carpenter.” I agree with Don over at I Don’t Hear a Single, the first two albums draw heavily on 1960s British and American folk idioms.
Things break out in new directions with 2016’s Western Man. There is an eerie mystery to the musical ambiance of the opening track, “Lilac Man,” that signals a significant stylistic shift. “Yellow Moon Road” expands the duo’s palette to include more 1960s garage rock sounds, particularly some cool organ. And the songs are amazing. “Like a Superman” has a clear Mamas and Papas stamp, “She Comes Running to Me” is lathered with great harmonies, while “Twenty One” opens with a deliberate homage to “When You Walk in the Room” before branching into its own original sound. But the album’s highlight is undoubtedly the hit single-worthy “The Boulevard.” You can just hear Mama Cass belting it out while the Wrecking Crew provides the crisp, swinging backdrop – except that it is not those amazing performers, it is these amazing performers: Daisy House.
This year’s Crossroads is another breakthrough for the duo, putting their sound more solidly on the rock side of folk rock. On “Languages” Tatiana sounds like a young Chrissie Hynde. This is the hit single, but there are many more highlights. The title track, “Crossroads,” has some Tom Petty Wildflowers-era bite while “Leaving the Star Girl” ramps up the Byrds influences. Dad is featured vocally on the evocative Paul Simon-esque, acoustic-based “Pristy Lee” and the more Byrdsian “The Girl Who Holds My Hand,” both strong songs and performances. But the highlights for me, beyond the obvious single (“Languages”), are two Tatiana vocals, the Kate Bush-like atmosphere on the beautiful and haunting vocal of “Albion” as well as the more Chrissie Hynde delivery of “Night of the Hunter.” Daisy House are a fully formed artistic wonder, inspired by the electric folk music and harmonies of the 1960s but entirely their own thing in terms of original material and performance. Visit them online, buy their music, see them live, now.  From: https://poprockrecord.com/2017/06/28/welcome-to-daisy-house/

Children of the Sün - Sunchild

I am not a child of the 60's or 70's. I am, however, a child of a child of the 60's and 70's, and that has made all the difference in my current state of musical appreciation. Not to say the hippie aesthetic is my thing--far from it--but folk and proto-rock planted a certain something, and every once in a while, it's fun to revisit. Enter Flowers, the forthcoming debut LP from Sweden's Children of the Sun.
Sonically and thematically, Children of the Sun's brand seems, at first blush, easy to place. Vocal harmonies? Check. Liberal application of hammond-esque keys? Check. Pitter-pat percussion? Check. Airy acoustics? Check. Back-to-the-earth sentimentalism? Double check. Take your favorite carefree folk rock--Traffic or perhaps Blind Faith as several examples among many--and mix, sparingly, with the modern edge and vocal prowess of MaidaVale or Halos and Hurricanes-era Avatarium. The latter may be a stretch, but Josefina Berglund Ekholm and Jennie-Ann Smith certainly share similarities in syrupy-yet-grounded delivery.
Why “first blush,” however? As it turns out, the acoustic intro and the hooky highlight “Her Game” are but a fraction of the unique genre stew offered across the breadth of the Flowerpatch. Take “Hard Working Man” as a prime example, which feels more out of the Dixie Chick's country-pop playbook than anything (and this, I hasten to add, is far from an insult.) And then we've got the intriguing “Like the Sound,” which sounds like Church of the Cosmic Skull with a dangerous case of confident vocal gravitas. The swell and fall of Josefina's croon on this track is haunting--dare I say goosebump inducing--and cements it as the album's standout track. This presents a thin margin, however, as the choral “Emmy” as well as the aforementioned “Hard Working Man” and “Her Game” are absolutely brilliant tracks as well. Like the best of their feather-in-the-hair influences, these tracks have meaty hooks, standing on the merit of massive songwriting chops, rather than an established ambiance.
Critically, there are two aspects that stand out after repeat listens. Firstly, the variety, while an obvious strong suit, means that some distinct instrumentation is employed once, and thus feels more like an outlet than a piece of the album's fabric. I'd love, for example, to hear more of that twangy guitar, for example, but the other tracks are so unique in their identity that there really is no room. Eclecticism is a strength, but it's a fine line between “establishing individuality” and “sabotaging the bond that holds the album together.” That said, am easy solution next time around is simply throwing in a few more tracks--at 35-ish minutes, there's room to play.
I've gone back and forth on my justification of Flowers’ inclusion in the Village annals...because it obviously made the cut, albeit not on the merits of an intrinsically heavy nature. Rather, Children of the Sun appears herein because the traditional from which they are born informs, on many levels, what we listen to on a regular basis. And that's not to mention the sheer strength of the songwriting and their technical chops, which certainly deserve recognition. If you typically dwell under the umbrella of the heavy, aggressive, and loud, this album may not be your cup of tea--and I get it. But if you don't mind taking basking in a grassy meadow from time to time, give Children of the Sun a well-deserved chance. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.  From: https://www.sleepingvillagereviews.com/olde-reviews/children-of-the-sun-flowers

Antiprisma - Um Minuto Desse Ano

Antiprisma is a band that has been standing out on the Brazilian indie scene for a few years now. The striking folk sound of the duo formed by Victor José and Elisa Moreira has been gaining ground since the band's first self-titled EP, released in 2014. After that, the first full album, Planos Para Esta Encarnação, already showed the greater possibilities that the two were able to create based on their vocal melodies, their guitars and Victor's interventions on the caipira viola, played in a very unique and interesting way.  For 2019, the band decided to shake up its sonic possibilities and brought four singles throughout the year which, last Friday, joined together with six other songs to form Hemisférios, Antiprisma's second album. Guitars, bass and drums accompany Victor and Elisa through tracks that, even though they bring a new approach to the band's proposal, still show their essence and identity. To better understand the paths that led Antiprisma to reach Hemisférios, we chatted with the band via email, and you can check out this conversation here:

TMDQA: Firstly, I would like to know about the launch process for Hemispheres. Before the full album even came out, you already released four singles that would become part of it, why did you decide to show so much about what this new work would be about in advance?

Victor: Firstly because it had been a while since we released music. Furthermore, we noticed this tendency to emphasize more on working single by single, so we wanted to try this idea, as some tracks were ready a little earlier. There's also a bit of a curiosity factor, right... we wanted to know at least how these new songs might sound from other people's perspectives. We spent so much time on the project that releasing these songs earlier was a bit of a relief, you know? As we were already thinking about releasing 11 or 12 tracks, we thought it would be reasonable to release four songs in advance, because when the full album was released there would still be a lot of material to listen to.

Elisa: I think the singles are tracks that exemplify the new paths we followed on the album, and the most current look of Antiprisma. The launches served to keep the "wheels spinning" (laughs). I think we managed to release new things and still bring other new sounds to the album. Furthermore, in fact the tracks that were released as singles are part of a whole, and may even gain a different perception within the context of the album.

TMDQA: Still about these singles: "Fogo Mais Fogo", "Só Causa Você Não Se Encontrou", "Caos" and "Planície Sem Nome". Why were these the tracks chosen to preview the album? And how do you believe they were able to translate the idea of ​​Hemispheres  to those who were waiting for it?

Victor: For me, there are other tracks on the album that could have come out as singles before, but these four tracks in a way sum up what's recorded there. I think I see in them the paths we ended up taking. It has a bit of calm and harmony as well as a more aggressive and incisive streak.

Elisa: We chose "Just Because You Didn't Meet" because we noticed a good reception when we played it in shows, still as a duo. We noticed that people paid attention to the song itself and the lyrics, which have a strong message. "Planície Sem Nome" we noticed right away that it would have potential as a single, as it has a more pop melody. "Caos" would bring folk and acoustic, which are important elements of our identity, but with a darker approach, a different mood than what we had presented before. And we decided to open everything with "Fogo Mais Fogo", which immediately brought a vibe that would break with the expectation of an acoustic, calm Antiprisma release... this track is very strong and features Gabi (Gabriela Deptulski, from My Magical Glowing Lens ) took a more psychedelic approach. We think it's a good milestone to start our new phase.
 
TMDQA: Now about the album as a whole. Anyone who follows Antiprisma already knew that the band was accompanied by more musicians in their performances, and you could already imagine that this would also be seen in the final result of Hemisférios. How did this accession of new members happen and how did it impact the new work?

Victor: We simply realized one day that maybe it was time to try playing with a full band, with a conventional lineup. You see, although from the beginning we followed this acoustic vibe, based more on vocal harmonies, it was never our intention to continue like this forever. We kind of knew that this aspect would always be present in anything we did, but we also knew that at some point this moment would come to play with a band. Sometimes we need to play a guitar, and a kitchen with bass and drums opens up another world for us to explore. It has been very good and very interesting to maintain both formats, duo and quartet, the music benefits a lot from this.

Elisa: When we started recording this album, we already had the idea of ​​playing live with a full band, but we hadn't yet finalized a lineup. So, on the album we recorded ourselves, and invited our friend Marlon Marinho to do the drums. Our idea live is not to literally reproduce what is on the record - although it doesn't deviate much from what is there -, but to transmit our "vibe", which is on the record, in a less introspective way than as a duo.

TMDQA: Something very curious about this new album is the presence of more intensely instrumental tracks, with some even entirely without vocals. What was it like composing these songs and how did the decision to include them in Hemisférios come about?

Elisa: All of our strongest references have important instrumental moments, so for us it was a natural decision.

Victor: Recording instrumental things has always been a great desire. For Hemisférios we separated two tracks like this, "Lunação" and "Cenário" . The first is a composition that came from Elisa, we broke down the whole thing and in the end it had this post punk feel. We even embraced the idea of ​​using a Cocteau Twins sample to make the beat. This was one of the ones I most enjoyed doing. "Cenário" came from a riff I made on the viola and that ended up taking on an interesting look; I think it turned into an emotional sound, and it was a great addition to the album's tracklist. Despite paying a lot of attention to the lyrics, in general the instrumental on this album was very rich. It has many moods in it.

TMDQA: And finally, how is the band feeling about leaving their comfort zone, experimenting with other sounds and now playing with electric instruments and other members in their performances? Tell us about this experience that the new album is providing for you.

Elisa: We felt this desire to try a full band, but we ourselves didn't really know how we would sound... One concern we had was to arrive at a sound that didn't "swallow" the personality of either of us, that maintained the balance that we always strive for - we are a girl and a guy playing and composing, side by side, in equality. And that for us reflects in our sound. One of the fears about playing with a band was that it could "unbalance" the sound, for example leaning too much towards Victor's references, sounding more masculine, or towards mine. Look at the girls (laughs) We did some shows with different lineups until life made us bump into Ana and Rafa, who are currently doing our "kitchen" live. Together with them, we are increasingly polished in our band version, discovering and creating our electric face for live shows

Victor: This entire period of composition, recording and rehearsals has been Antiprisma's most intense. Honestly, it's a great relief to be able to create in other ways, express yourself in other ways. We feel very comfortable at Antiprisma, and I think that although we have changed a lot in some aspects, our style is definitely there. And even though it's different, there's a good part of the album that has the feel of the EP or Planos Para Esta Encarnação. I think this new job has given us even more of an ability to see other things about ourselves from a different perspective, and it's really crazy that playing live with this electric approach makes it feel like a "fresh start" for us.

From: https://www-tenhomaisdiscosqueamigos-com.translate.goog/2019/09/03/antiprisma-entrevista-hemisferios/?_x_tr_sl=pt&_x_tr_tl=en&_x_tr_hl=en&_x_tr_pto=sc

Morphine - Live at The Westbeth Theater 1997

During the first weeks of 1993, Pixies frontman Black Francis unceremoniously ended his band via fax, leaving the mantle of Massachusetts’s most beloved college band temporarily vacant. The Kim Deal-led Breeders were logical successors, but the scene had a fairly stacked roster with Buffalo Tom, The Lemonheads, and Dinosaur Jr. all releasing new material that year. Meanwhile, a steely-eyed, magnetic prophet emerged from Cambridge with a homemade two-string bass and one of the area’s most singular bands behind him.
That year, Boston-based band Morphine perfected a precise formula of jazz-informed cool and bluesy punk to briefly inspire an international fervor. The band mournfully concluded with 2000’s “The Night” a year after frontman Mark Sandman’s sudden passing mid-performance, but their nocturnal sound arguably solidified with 1993’s “Cure For Pain.” For the local crowd, “Pain” was more than a hometown hit; it embodied a Boston nightlife that critics and outsiders didn’t believe existed. It was as unbridled as a collision of bodies at The Model around last call, as introspective as a long walk home across the Mass Ave. Bridge after midnight, yet “Pain” was completely untethered from any other sound in the scene at the time.
“That was the best batch of songs Mark Sandman wrote for a record,” producer Paul Q. Kolderie says. “He was just really on fire right around then; every song that came out was another winner.” “'Cure For Pain' just loudly announces that it is a classic,” author and Hallelujah the Hills frontman Ryan H. Walsh adds. “It doesn’t lean into any of the things about the ‘90s that stand out and say, ‘oh, this is from the ‘90s.’ The production and the very structure of the band itself kind of flew in the face of what was popular and cool or trendy.” As far as its creators are concerned, the era surrounding Pain was one of triumph, loss, fatigue, and a continued effort to be effortlessly in the moment.
Colley, Sandman, and drummer Jerome Deupree began playing as Morphine in 1989, but the group’s unorthodox sound had roots long before they got together. “We were all really old friends,” Kolderie says. “By the time we got to “Cure For Pain,” we had already made one record together and I had made numerous records with all the people involved.” Morphine’s tangled web of scene friendships began in the early ‘80s with The Sex-Execs, a cheeky new wave act featuring Deupree on drums and Kolderie on bass. Colley was playing saxophone in the more subtly-named Three Colors, which Kolderie produced an album for before they split in 1988. Out of all of their priors though, Sandman’s Treat Her Right had the most promise, simultaneously foreshadowing Morphine’s sound to come.
“Mark had nine lives, so when he first got to Boston, it took him a while to find his footing,” Kolderie says. “When he fell in with the Treat Her Right people, that voice was there all of a sudden.” With a driving blues sound highlighted by Sandman’s “low guitar” bass style and lyrics pulled from his vagabonding across North and South America, Treat Her Right released three albums and scored a deal with RCA Records before disbanding on the heels of Morphine’s debut, “Good” in 1992. “Back then, we were all just striving,” Kolderie adds. “We were all just trying to come up. We made a previous record that was good, literally called “Good,” but I think we were determined to beat it.”
Production on “Cure for Pain” was spread over a brief two weeks at Kolderie’s revered Fort Apache Studio in Cambridge, but days into recording, Morphine’s lineup experienced a shake-up. According to Kolderie, Deupree quit because of tension with Sandman coupled with some health issues keeping him from extensive touring. Deupree says he saw the recording as a “favor” to record a demo tape of the songs they’d been working on. Recording was happening at such an expedited clip, Deupree’s replacement, ex-Treat Her Right drummer Billy Conway, would only have to play on three songs for the record. Whether it was their focus or confidence as a trio, “Pain” had already began generating hype before basic tracks were even finished. Kolderie’s girlfriend, then a publicist for Warner Music subsidiary Rykodisc, took a cassette of unfinished mixes to the label after overhearing Paul working on the record. Rykodisc signed Morphine on the strength of the cassette, going as far as to reissue “Good” ahead of “Pain.” “We went to another studio called Q Division,” Kolderie adds. “I put on the tape, started playing ‘Buena’, and people were running into the control room like, ‘What the fuck is that?’ You notice when these things happen.”
Morphine’s slow rise was both word-of-mouth and a product of the band’s constant tinkering sonically. Sandman’s storytelling had become more direct in the year since “Good,” revealing vivid accounts of adultery (“Thursday”), strung-out vices (“Cure For Pain”), and self-doubt (“I’m Free Now”). Colley had mastered a kind of sax showmanship that anchored a song’s melody while flashily playing two saxophones at once live. In the shift from Deupree to Conway, Morphine had been blessed with two drummers that had years of experience playing off of Sandman and Colley. “I’m very proud to be a part of it,” Deupree says. “If people know me as a drummer outside of Boston, it’s because of 'Cure for Pain.'” As much as the album stands as a group effort, some of its most resonant moments come from the insular recordings from Hi-n-Dry, Sandman’s Cambridge loft/studio.
With a seemingly endless array of anonymous lineups and musicians coming by to pitch in, Sandman’s private output was a precursor to the eclectic lo-fi producers of the Bandcamp age, hitting record as soon as inspiration struck. The record’s atmospheric album closer, “Miles Davis’ Funeral,” simply came about when Sandman and percussionist Ken Winokur were rolling tape on the day of the jazz icon’s burial. More fully-formed loft experiments like the crystalline, mandolin-plucked centerpiece “In Spite of Me” ultimately inspired Kolderie’s self-described “let’s fucking do this” attitude in the studio. “We were just trying wild things,” Kolderie adds. “There was one mix of ‘A Head With Wings’ where I had the sax track routed to a wah-wah pedal underneath the console and I was literally playing the wah-wah pedal live while we were mixing the song. I don’t think I did that with anyone else.”
“Cure For Pain” was released on September 14, 1993, kicking off an expansive tour across the globe. The album received an early cosign in the form of multiple songs being featured in director David O. Russell controversial 1994 hit “Spanking the Monkey.” Fittingly though, Morphine picked up the most steam from late-night television appearances, entertaining Conan O’Brien, Jools Holland, and, most notably, Beavis & Butthead. “It seemed to snowball and it was worldwide,” Colley says. “We were working a lot, so we never got a chance to just stop and take inventory. We were on the road, like, nine months of the year traveling around the world, going from one place to the next, and just repeating it.”
Despite their globetrotting successes, Morphine kept a fairly low profile once they eventually returned to Boston, earning a restrained sort of respect from locals that seemed to suit the reserved band. “That’s why I loved to come back to Boston: it didn’t change,” Colley adds. You saw your friends, they were like, ‘where have you been for the last couple weeks?’, ‘oh, well, we were on tour,’ ‘oh, welcome back.’ Nothing changes, nobody looks at you differently, and you could slip right back into playing little bars with your friends.” “There’s nothing that I loathe more than rock stars who are big time people when they’re talking to me. To find he was the antithesis of that was such an awesome addition to his talent,” Walsh says about his brief encounter with Sandman in the ‘90s. “He was easy to talk to, but clearly, he also cultivated a mysterious aura around him. That shit wasn’t accidental.”
Even before Mark Sandman’s fatal heart attack while headlining the Nel Nome Del Rock Festival in 1999, Morphine’s future, to some, was in question. Pain’s follow-up, 1995’s “Yes,” doubled down on its predecessor’s winning formula of romping live hits and Sandman’s nocturnal observations, but 1997’s “Like Swimming” brought additional pressures to the band. Morphine had signed to nascent major label Dreamworks Records, which seemed to bolster the anticipation surrounding “Swimming” while baiting critics that had doubts about the group. “They desperately need to alter their sound, and if they have to break up to do it, I don't think anyone's gonna care,” Pitchfork founder Ryan Schreiber wrote in a scathing, since-deleted review. “In fact, after four identical records, it's about time, 'cause Morphine is, like, drowning.” “I think they (the band) found the sound and, if there were problems with any of the later records, it was just because there was this profound conflict between sticking to the sound they had or trying to go somewhere else,” Kolderie believes.
In the decades following the band’s tragic dissolution, the surviving members of Morphine have managed to find a happy medium between “sticking to the sound” and expanding somewhere else, thanks in part to New Orleans-based blues musician Jeremy Lyons, who says he initially listened to “Pain” upon meeting Colley and Deupree to a point of exhaustion. “I think I actually remember getting to a point where I couldn’t listen to it for a while because it was very sad, some of the songs, whereas I think the follow-up is a bit more rock and I felt some of the tunes had a bit more of a party feel.” After casually jamming for years, Colley floated the idea of performing a “members of Morphine” set at Nel Nome Del Rock in 2009, just one day shy of a decade since Sandman’s passing at the same festival. The passionate tribute performance led to a residency at Atwood’s Tavern back in Cambridge and marked interest across the States for reunion shows. “I really had to relearn how to sing in order to do the Sandman stuff,” Lyons says. “His range is naturally lower than mine, but he also had a beautiful way of singing very gently and quietly.”
The topic of a “Pain” anniversary was brought up and tabled over the years as Vapors of Morphine became a project with as much longevity as the original Morphine. This past February, a 25th anniversary performance of “Pain” front-to-back at the Lizard Lounge was met with a sold-out crowd and a second set to keep up with demand. “For us, it’s been great to reach out and to have that next generation come up to us and say, ‘my dad played Morphine in the car when I was going to preschool’ or ‘my mother used to put headphones on her belly when she was pregnant with me and played you… now here I am with a full beard, let me buy you a drink,’” Colley says with a laugh.
The record’s endurance goes far beyond nostalgia though; as much as it was a part-realized, part-idealized vision of Boston’s nightlife, the record has since become an underrated document to its younger fans of adulthood, warts and all, while trying to grasp at fleeting youth. “To me, it was like a glimpse into adult life,” Walsh says. “It was a very unique kind of adult life and not an entirely happy one, obviously. It wasn’t pop fluff, it was short stories about the difficulties of being an adult.” Regardless of the album’s contained, but enduring legacy, Colley, Deupree, and Lyons will carry on, playing the songs they’ve been growing and tinkering with for over 25 years. As far as new fans coming aboard, Colley is confident that he’ll keep getting requests to play “Buena” as long as they’re playing shows. “I think if you’re interested in music, you’re going to find your way to Morphine eventually,” he says with a calming degree of certainty.  From: https://www.wbur.org/news/2018/09/14/morphine-boston-band-cure-for-pain

The Heavy Heavy - All My Dreams

One of the hardest parts in this job is nailing a comparison. Artists groan when their work is pitched against someone else’s, no matter if it’s right on the money; journalists, meanwhile, quake at the idea of making one in fear it’ll blow up in their face and feature as the key storyline in the artist’s next press campaign… been there! Best, then, to push the artist to do it themselves, and not let them weasel out of it with a “we like a bit of everything” before they curate an ill-fitting ‘influences’ playlist for Spotify. The Heavy Heavy, thankfully, have no qualms over comparing their sound and their work to their heroes. Their answers? The Rolling Stones and The Mamas & The Papas. “The Stones are the bottom of everything we do,” Will Turner, one half of the Brighton duo, keenly tells NME of the key influences behind ‘Life and Life Only’, the band’s debut EP that’ll be released on vinyl this week (July 22).
“One of the main goals for us is to make people feel good,” adds vocalist and songwriter Georgie Fuller. “And there’s so much music out there that’s sad, but The Rolling Stones have this magical quality to make you feel good and feel like life’s a party. And The Mamas & The Papas had the glistening West Coast sound that we love, too.” It’s this attitude that makes ‘Life and Life Only’ such a refreshing listen. This is folk-rock that unashamedly harks back to what Turner calls his favourite period of music: lush ‘60s pop through to the early ‘70s, and the birth of the digital era. In the wrong hands, this refined mindset would sound crusty, snobby and tiresome, but here that approach generates songs that are familiar, accessible and rather quite exciting.
“We’re not trying to create a pastiche or make another sound that’s identical to something that exists, but to carry on what we believe is the greatest era of music,” Fuller says. Michael Kiwanuka, Leon Bridges and Paolo Nutini are such acts who, like them, aren’t repeating history, but instead taking their inspiration from it, and they sound like some of the “coolest records ever” Turner is more blatant: “There was a similar set of ingredients in that 10-year period that I think was the best sound ever, whether that was Joe Cocker, The Beatles or Led Zeppelin. We want to try and exact those ingredients and put them in every song that we do. Aim for Aretha Franklin, going for Bob Dylan… we want to go that high. I don’t think there’s any reason to settle for anything less than the ‘best ever’.”
‘Go Down River’, the first song the pair worked on together, is a rich soul ballad that acts as the midway point of The Band, Otis Redding and Beach Boys drummer Dennis Wilson. ‘All My Dreams’, a funk-rock groover, has hints of Steppenwolf and Janis Joplin, and the harmonies on ‘Man Of The Hills’ appear plucked directly from The Mamas & The Papas’ ‘Dedicated To The One I Love’. It’s a sound Turner has been chasing for over a decade. His previous band fizzled out, but a chance appearance from Fuller on one of their tracks opened their mind to a new way of working. “Something about the way my voice hit the mic and the way he produces the sound, we had a moment where we were like, ‘Woah!’” Fuller says.
In little over two-and-a-half years, the pair have released their debut EP, expanded to a five-piece band and signed to ATO Records, home to Nilüfer Yanya, Alabama Shakes and Black Pumas. Things appear to be accelerating: not only did they recently appear on CBS’ Saturday Morning TV show for a live performance of their Americana-tinged single ‘Miles & Miles’, but they also just completed a support slot on labelmates Black Pumas’ European tour. It was, incredibly, the band’s first-ever full tour and saw them playing to growing venues across the continent. They’re grateful that the psych-soul band’s fans got down early for their set and made up for lost time by snapping up their merch. “They’d buy it, put the t-shirt on and then stick out their bellies, and we’d sign the tops for these slightly rotund German men,” Turner laughs.
Aside from the merch takings, valuable lessons were learned. They were in awe of Black Pumas frontman Eric Burton’s magnetic stage presence, and geeked out with guitarist and producer Adrian Quesada on sound technique: it’s the kind of advice they’ll use when stitching together their debut album later this year, for which they have 40 to 50 demos. Most of all, it set a new benchmark, and another chance to follow in the footsteps of those they consider the best. “Watching them up close and realising how they got to this level was a huge eye-opener,” Fuller says. “It made us think, ‘Fuck, if we work hard like they do, this might be possible for us.’”  From: https://www.highroadtouring.com/the-heavy-heavy-our-sound-the-rolling-stones-meets-the-mamas-the-papas/