PJ Harvey - Victory

The first music I fell in love with was classic rock and Britpop, two genres I still love to this day, but share something pretty glaring—they’re mostly dominated by men. I loved the rollicking songs of The Kinks, the rough snarl of Liam Gallagher and the creepy bravado of Black Sabbath. Their music fit in perfectly with the masculine way I carried myself, and it actually made me feel more confident in that self-image. I could listen to these lofty songs without having to grapple with my insecurities around femininity—they just made me feel good. I wasn’t purposely avoiding music made by women, but most of the bands I was listening to in my mid-teens were male. This was partially because I was ignorant about all the great female artists, and quite possibly because I was subconsciously a harsher critic of that music. I now know that was a manifestation of the rejection of my own femininity, but I still feel immensely guilty about it because today so many of my favorite musicians are women.
One of the first female artists who really resonated with me was PJ Harvey. Her songs are muscular and marked by thunderous guitars and a strapping persona that slaps you across the face. Harvey wasn’t just assertive—her music was physical in a way that I hadn’t really heard before, making a lot of the bands I was listening to before sound bland or uninspired. Her 1992 debut LP Dry (which was recently reissued on vinyl with an accompanying demos album) isn’t my favorite PJ Harvey album, but it was my introduction to her music and her introduction to the world. Like much of her early work, Dry was rudimentary, visceral and sexually explicit, and it totally blew my narrow perceptions of femininity out of the water. It was melodramatic yet primal, angelic yet dysfunctional—exactly what I needed to hear at the time.
It wasn’t just the lines Harvey sang, but how she sang them that got my attention. She sings with theatrical agony (“Oh My Lover”), magnetic indifference and pop brilliance (“Dress”) and blunt, sensual vigor (“Happy And Bleeding,” “Sheela-Na-Gig”). As someone who hadn’t yet heard Patti Smith’s Horses or Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville, this album hit me like a truck. The way she accentuates certain phrases or lines is astounding. She expels the word “victory” in her song of the same name as if an ominous creature is crawling up her back, garbles several lines on “Dress” to deride a man and tweaks her emphasis on each repeated line of the “Fountain” outro (“And on my hill I wait for wind”), almost providing alternate meanings.
Harvey poetically divulged tales of being chewed up and spit out by men, but still exuded a sexual confidence that celebrated her desires. Hearing these sentiments from a lanky, 23-year-old woman who grew up on a farm helped instill my belief that young women are powerful, complex and don’t need to conform to any standards (whether that’s daintiness or forcefulness). Harvey’s androgyny (captured in her raw album covers throughout the years) and lack of concern for gender roles was inspiring and something she continued with later songs like the gender-swapping “Man-Size” or marriage-defying “The Pocket Knife.”
I’m still navigating my own self-image and identity, and I’m not really sure where it will lead me. But watching people proudly set fire to restrictive views of femininity or masculinity—whether they’ve internalized these things or not—makes me feel like I don’t have to have all the answers. Sometimes I imagine myself in the first line of PJ Harvey’s “Victory” (“I stumble in and in, you fit me with those angel wings”), bumbling around in a sea of my own muddy thoughts and perceived expectations, but Harvey welcomes me into her weird world anyways. From:  https://www.pastemagazine.com/music/pj-harvey/gateways-pj-harveys-dry

PJ Harvey, Bjork, Tori Amos

Glass Skies - Sonic America

Comprising thumping percussion, reverb-drenched bass and flashes of extra-terrestrial tones, Glass Skies offers sultry psychedelic rock, permeated by a heady dose of chill, retro revivalism. Groovy single Lemonade flaunts those trademark high, sex-infused vocals that radiate a pungent lounge vibe. Their grimy, wavering guitars create a full, fuzzy sound that feels wholly familiar, a hazy nostalgia trip. Though undeniably heavy on the swag, this offering lacks in originality, thanks to its reliance on genre tropes such as cheesy wah and shrill, funky solos.  From: https://themusic.com.au/reviews/glass-skies-glass-skies-stephanie-tell/zcjewcDDwsU/01-08-14 

Orgone - Doing Me Wrong

After the lofty expectations set forth by the auspicious funk monster that was their debut, 2007's The Killion Floor, L.A.'s Orgone don't disappoint with Cali Fever. Like Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings or Breakestra, Orgone cleverly deliver authentic funk and soul grooves without sounding like nostalgia hawking mimeographs. Monster throwdowns like the opening instrumental shuffle of "The Last Fool" and the eight-minute-plus "The Cleaner," which has enough slick menace to sound like the chase theme in a great, lost blaxploitation film, establish the nine-piece's funk credentials. And yet, like the best tracks on The Killion Floor, it's the subtler, spacey numbers that stand out. Vocalist Fanny Franklin recalls Marva Whitney on the drugged-out, chicken scratch-driven "Crazy Queen," and a detour into dub-y, atmospheric, early '80s NYC club music results in the most ambitious and danceable cut on the set: the invigorating "It's Time Tonight." On Cali Fever, Orgone avoid the sophomore slump and deliver some truly dope funk.  From: https://exclaim.ca/music/article/orgone-cali_fever 

Los Lobos - Two Janes

As a general rule, Los Lobos aren’t given to flights of fancy. Their music is traditionally very down to earth, detailing working class struggles, relationship struggles, and the joy of rising above. If you want to look for anything remotely fantastical in their music, you have to search long and hard, and chances are you won’t use up all your fingers counting. “One Time, One Night” includes the lines “A quiet voice is singing something to me / An age-old song about the home of the brave”. “River of Fools” envisions “A trio of angels holding candles of light / Guide the ship to an unknown shore / Sad soul riders with arms drawn tight / As they stopped for just one more”. “Colossal Head” begins by borrowing from Little Red Riding Hood: “What big eyes you have / What big lips you have”. 
That’s pretty much it, and apart from those lines, the songs don’t really deviate from the Los Lobos real-world template. There’s one album, though, that takes on a glimmer of nighttime and wonder: 1992’s Kiko. Kiko is at once a typical Los Lobos album — full of hard-luck tales and hopes for a better future — but it’s also the only Los Lobos album that might be a little “touched” (as some of our grandmothers might have put it). On this one album, Los Lobos allow more wonder into their lyrics than in the rest of their albums combined. “Dream in Blue” recalls, “I flew around with shiny things / And when I spoke, I seemed to sing”. “Wake Up Dolores” intones “Oh sacred night / On Quetzal plumes / Of dying suns / And purple moons”. Ont he darker side, “Angels with Dirty Faces” looks at a world with a “broken window smile” and “weeds for hair”, while “Short Side of Nothing” imagines “Crows up on the rooftop / Laughing out my name.”
Admittedly, it might be a stretch to look for flashes of magic in Los Lobos’s music. Maybe they were just feeling a little bit more poetic than usual. Then again, there’s the album’s title track and centerpiece, so unlike anything the band have recorded before or since. “Kiko and the Lavender Moon”, drifting in on a bed of jazzy lounge music that Little Nemo would have killed for, tells the tale (as best I can tell) about a boy who plays and bends and shakes, and when he “flies up to the wall / Stands on one foot / Doesn’t even fall”, it’s hard to know if he’s awake or dreaming. The whole song could be a dream, and a large part of its charm is that it glides along on that dreamlike ambiguity. Or Kiko could be some fey night child, more at home with black cats than with the people he seems to avoid by sleeping all day — if you really want to stretch your interpretation of the song. 
The point is: there’s a spirit to Kiko that’s shared by no other Los Lobos album. It captures a unique moment in time for the band. While it’s still a Los Lobos album with the usual real-world concerns (“Angels with Dirty Faces”, for example, is informed by the harsh conditions outside the studio.”Two Janes” is about suicide. “Just a Man” is one long cry of regret.), it’s also the closest Los Lobos ever came to magical realism, and it might help explain why the album still stands so tall today on its 20th anniversary.  From: https://www.popmatters.com/162070-los-loboskiko-live-2495824798.html

Patty Griffin - Sweet Lorraine

If you met the people in Patty Griffin's songs, you might never remember them. They might hand you your change or shuffle past you in the rain, and their quiet faces would hide the fact that they're burning alive. Because even though they're plain—-factory workers, widowers, farmers—-these men and women endure things they can barely describe. In song after song, Griffin uses her voice and her lyrics to unleash the pain of those who have no practice expressing themselves. Even when the music stays quiet, we're almost always given the sense of a dam finally breaking. And that flood of emotion is what makes listening to Patty Griffin's music, as sad as it is, so exhilarating.
That paradox is present even in the sound of her voice. Capable of everything from high, soft crooning to throaty wails, it is an instrument that demands admiration. But the glorious technical ability is rocked by tremors of sadness in her voice. There's a rough edge on every note that warns she's about to be overcome. This graveled rasp means she will never sound absolutely pure, but she will always sound alive.
Perhaps because she understands her sound so well, Griffin regularly matches her voice with bittersweet words. Taken together, her songs cohere into a sweeping story of loneliness and loss that only occasionally gets conquered. With each song, she finds a new facet of sadness. More importantly, she finds a new story to tell.
There are three rough categories for Patty Griffin's stories. Not all of them involve the lonely people described above, but they all add contours to the world those people inhabit. Generally, the categories are:

(1) first person narratives in which Griffin might be singing about herself,

(2) third person narratives in which she sings about other people, and

(3) first person narratives in which she has obviously taken on another persona.

Griffin's third-person songs tend to be her most restrained. She takes us to the edge of someone's pain and leaves us there, describing it just enough to let us feel the rest of the ache for ourselves. Her sense of dramatic arc, however, remains strong. Consider how much we learn about the heroine of "Sweet Lorraine," who appears on the album "Living With Ghosts." This is a woman who has been fighting for years to escape a legacy of hatred and cruelty in her family. In a few phrases, Griffin lets us know she's the kind of reckless woman who will "say outlandish things to her family just to scare them" and who will do anything to keep her life going forward. She starts businesses that fail. She goes to school. She gets married. But it's not dramatic simply to run. Griffin shows us exactly what Lorraine is running from. She tells us that Lorraine's "father called her a slut and a whore on the night before her wedding day," and she says the poor girl's "mother threw stones at her on the day that she moved." It's easy to paint the rest of Lorraine's picture ourselves.  From: http://itotallyhearthat.blogspot.com/2006/12/thoughts-on-patty-griffin.html

Genesis - The Battle of Epping Forest

I’ve been listening to the Genesis album Selling England by the Pound now for 40 years. One track that I have always had something of a soft spot for is “The Battle of Epping Forest”. Although there are objectively better and more musically satisfying tracks elsewhere on the album, “Battle” kept my attention as a teenager; and still does. I love the witty lyrics, the double entendres and the cartoon-like characters with Bash Street Kids-style names. 
I grew up in East Anglia and often went down to London, so I knew roughly where Epping was on the map. To me, then, the song appeared rooted in the real world. It seemed to report on real events, real-time, unlike the myth-laden (but equally attractive) romance of “Dancing Out with the Moonlit Knight” or “Firth of Fifth” or the rustic whimsy of “I Know What I Like”. “Battle” was packed with words and colourful characters, with humour and menace – and it had a proper boy’s-own story; a bizarre one, but it sounded genuine.
I’m no Genesis expert, and there are others who will know more about this song than I, but I was curious about its origins. “Taken from a news story concerning two rival gangs fighting over East-End Protection rights,” it said, on the lyric sheet that came with the original vinyl pressing. So what was that all about, then?
“I keep cuttings that interest me,” Peter Gabriel told writer Janis Schacht years later. “‘Battle of Epping Forest’ was taken from a genuine news story in The Times. When I went back to find the story I’d misplaced it, so I fabricated the whole thing around the story of two gangs fighting over protection  rights in London’s East End.” 
In fact it was the hard-nosed crime journalist Clive Borrell who inspired this absurd tale of gangland altercations in the woods. Borrell had covered the police investigation into the Krays and Richardsons, two London gangs of brothers who’d terrorised parts of the capital in the Sixties. These days their stories are well enough documented elsewhere (try Wikipedia) but back in the day Borrell’s reports in The Times kept the broadsheet-reading public up to date with events, and eventually the arrests and imprisonment of both gangs at the end of the decade.
In the Krays’ wake came a jostling for supremacy of the next generation of gangsters. On 5 April 1972, The Times ran a front-page story, penned by Borrell, which reported on 40 raids by a Scotland Yard squad investigating gang crime in London. The raids followed a spate of violent crime across the city, mainly involving members of known gangs of criminals who for the previous two years had been trying to gain control of the underworld in east and south London – areas which had been gang free since the convictions of the Krays and Richardsons. Criminals, like nature, abhor a vacuum. 
Unlike the Genesis song, however, there were no fatalities – or at least, none reported. The real-life Barking Slugs, Willie Wright, Mick the Prick, even poor old Harold Demure, all lived on to fight another day. 
Reading the paper that Wednesday morning over his tea and toast, probably in his west London home, this sliver of reportage, just a few column inches on the front page, caught Gabriel’s eye. It was a good story, original; maybe the germ of a character-driven song there, something akin to “Harold the Barrel”. Peter snipped it out and filed it away somewhere safe. Over a year later, writing songs for what would become Selling England by the Pound, he had forgotten precisely where he’d put it.
In fact, probably unbeknownst to Gabriel, Epping Forest, out on the northeastern margins of the city where London dissolves into suburban Essex (somewhere I suspect the ex-Charterhouse pupil rarely – if at all – visited), had long been a scene of battle and conflict. The highwayman Dick Turpin knew this tract of woodland well and organised many criminal activities from a base between the Loughton Road and Kings Oak Road. In print, the original “Battle of Epping Forest” was fought by the Corporation of the City of London, to preserve the forest from enclosure as a sylvan playground for all Londoners, and the phrase appears as such in newspaper reports of the late nineteenth century.
By the twentieth century, Epping Forest was more than just a place for recreation. The people were getting restless. The London Metropolitan Archives hold a letter amongst their Epping Forest files , summarised as a: 
‘Complaint of the noisy behaviour of a number of boys gathering on a piece of forest land in front of the writer’s house. Some tree trunks were deposited on the land, they sit on these. On Sundays gangs of youths gather ‘to do battle’. This is before it is light. They wander about yelling and singing… ‘
Six decades later, Clive Borrell, again, describes the use of the forest as a rendezvous by the Krays and their associates in his book Crime in Britain Today (1975). These meetings were arranged “always at night and in the Epping Forest area, for suitcases of money to be dropped at pre-arranged spots.” Several such stories came out during or after the Krays’ trial. “One story they never recounted – and it is probably a significant insight into their characters,” writes Borrell, “was how they bought a string of ponies and used them to play Cowboys and Indians in Epping Forest.” It’s a detail that would have fitted well into Gabriel’s song.
Few adults in Britain at the time would have been unaware of the Krays’ arrest and conviction – the unpleasant details filled tabloid pages well into the Seventies and have since seeped into modern popular mythology. Whatever Gabriel knew of the background in 1973, he was determined to put the lost story he’d read a year earlier in The Times into song. He devised a cast of likely characters and set them to work, thumping, clouting and scurrying up trees. It must have been great fun to write. Gabriel even digressed at one point into a comedic “song within a song” about a randy vicar, which had little to do with the central narrative. No matter – in it went, kitchen sink and all.
The rest of the band were aghast. “Peter took the song and wrote the lyric and we recorded the track,” recalled Phil Collins in the interviews conducted for the 2007 reissue of Selling England. “It’s like, 300 words per line. There was no space. All the air had been sucked out of it.” But there was no time, or no inclination, to trim the lyrics. Studio time was expensive and this was Island Studios, which I imagine did not come cheap. “If we had known we could have thinned it out. In those days we didn’t go back and rerecord things.” Played live it was, as Phil puts it, “a barrage of information being thrown at you.” In fact there were at least five studio takes of the song and the instrumental track to which Gabriel added his lyrics has since been leaked on bootlegs.
Peter concurs: “I spent a lot of time building up the characters. I was quite reluctant to edit as severely as I should have done. It did end up too wordy.” But an insight into the writing process comes from Jerry Gilbert, who interviewed Gabriel for Sounds in August 1973, just as the band were putting finishing touches to Selling England. Gilbert is treated to a performance of the song:
Peter contemplates how he is going to end a new number, “The Battle of Epping Forest”, and then performs the song live in his own living room over a studio backing track, pausing for breath to throw in words of explanation during the instrumental links. Like some great novelist, Peter ponders on the ending once he has killed off the two rival gangs. A little couplet deciding the issue over the toss of a coin would tie up the song nicely but perhaps that’s too much of an anti-climax, he decides.(Sounds 1/9/73)
Of course Gabriel kept the ending and the Blackcap Barons flick a coin to wrap things up. It was, indeed, an anti-climactic termination to the day’s scuffle: a no-score draw. So who were the Blackcap Barons? Who knows, although English forests had long harboured rebellion and outlaw and vigilante groups frequently took the law into their own hands. During the reign of King John, the severity of forest laws united forest dwellers in opposition to the king. There, at the front of the queue, were five Essex rebel barons: Robert Fitzwalter, Lord of Dunmow; Richard de Montfichet, Sheriff of Essex; Geoffrey de Mandeville of Pleshey; William de Lanvallei, the Governor of Colchester Castle; and Robert de Vere of Castle Hedingham (Andrew Summers and John Debenham, Magna Carta in Essex). 
It is also worth mentioning the Waltham Blacks, a notorious band of forest-dwelling outlaws who arose in the wake of the Civil War and blackened their faces when out robbing or poaching. Their activities resulted in the Waltham Black Act of 1723, “for the more effectual punishing wicked and evil disposed Persons going armed in Disguise, and doing Injuries and Violences to the Persons and Properties of His Majesty's Subjects, and for the more speedy bringing the Offenders to Justice”. Waltham is close to Epping, however despite the name, it would seem the Waltham Blacks roamed woodland in Hampshire, and not Essex.  From: https://hidingundercovrs.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-battle-of-epping-forest-genesis.html

Hey Elbow - Nocturnal

Swedish trio Hey Elbow create outlier pop music that incorporates ideas from jazz, improv, and experimental noise. Julia Ringdahl (vocals/guitar) and Ellen Petersson (horns/electronics) had been writing music together for many years before being introduced to Liam Amner (drums), whom they met through a mutual friend in 2013; they meshed so well that Amner was asked to join them in the studio. Now a trio, they named themselves after an aerobics exercise they were taught while queuing for a show by the Knife; they also decided to remove ego from the equation by having no member more prominent than the other, preferring to let the music take center-stage. By 2015 they had released their debut album, Every Other, via Adrian Recordings. Their fan base increased significantly, leading to festival slots and a European tour. By the time they began writing their second full-length, the trio were incorporating more electronic influences into the mix, the results of which were heard on their 2018 album, C0C0C0.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/artist/hey-elbow-mn0003721995#biography 

Constantine - Rania

How did you first got into music and what was the first instrument you played?

I learned piano as a child but didn’t appreciate Classical music at the time; ironic that I’ve now recorded an album with baroque harpsichord on it!  My primary instrument is guitar.

You’re making Psychedelic/Acid Folk music sounding like it is coming straight from the North of UK back in the early 1970s. The atmosphere on the album is truly stunning. I experienced it only on a very rare occasions in the current music scene. What influenced you when you were becoming a musician and how did it evolved?

When you travel with your mind you can go anywhere you want. I’m always dreaming of living in some delicate utopia instead of on the Northwest side of Chicago so maybe my songwriting is a vehicle that helps me get there. I’ve always loved Psychedelic music and for me I think the evolution into Acid Folk was the natural course.

Were you part of any music projects before your solo release?

I’ve played in a number of short-lived projects but nothing that really stuck. I formed my own band which included some of the musicians who played on Day Of Light, but we broke up in 2009.

What are the circumstances behind making your ‘Day Of Light’ accompanied by single “Worshipping The Sun”?

I guess I just felt inspired and decided to finally record a proper album. The plan was to record it in a week, which in retrospect was pretty naïve considering the project took nearly four years to complete! I think I did some growing up during that time and as a result my songwriting and tastes matured as well.

Can you tell us more about the collaboration with Of Wondrous Legends who were a group of musicians that recorded some very interesting material which wasn’t released in its own time. Locust Records made a proper release back in 2008. (One of our favourite and we definitely recommend to check them out)

A friend of mine put me in touch with Al when I was looking for a vibes guy and Al later put me in touch with Stephen to discuss the possibility of doing the album art. Stephen and I first sat down for coffee at the Heartland Café on the north side of Chicago and had a lovely time. He’s a very busy and prolific artist but he believed in the project and agreed to do the artwork. He later added 12-string guitar on “Voyage Of The Crystal Bird” and “Forest Path”. It was an honor working with Stephen and Al and it saddens me that we live in a world where a masterpiece like O.W.L. can go undiscovered for so many years while so much rubbish gets released every day.

The songwriting is really well arranged, but what really stood out is the utopian atmosphere.

On one hand, a painstaking amount of thought went into creating the atmosphere of the album; the instrumentation, track sequence, vocal style, use of effects, mixing, consistency of lyrics, adding a reprise on side B, … My favorite kinds of records are those that are highly consistent and propel the listener’s imagination into a magical far away land – the ones where upon each listen you joyfully and effortlessly slip into the world the artist created – the ones that allow you to daydream on a rainy summer day while drinking a cup of mushroom tea! On the other hand, I was just focusing on building the songs from the ground up to make them sound as good as possible so maybe it’s a few teaspoons hard work and a teaspoon of luck?

Where was it recorded?

Drums and electric instruments were recorded at a warehouse/studio on the Northwest side of Chicago. A good portion of the vocals, mandolin, acoustic guitar and sitar were tracked at Mike Novak’s apartment – my friend who engineered the record. Mellotron and electric harpsichord were recorded at two separate locations.

What’s the process behind your songwriting? 

I’m always jotting down thoughts and ideas so that I have a palette to choose from when I get stumped or I need something to spark my imagination. I usually just come up with some small idea, guitar part or set of words and try to elaborate. For me it’s important to pause, close my eyes and try to envision myself in the song. 

Stephen Titra of Of Wondrous Legends made artwork. I think it’s quite incredible and really captures the whole concept of the album and also I have to mention that the packaging is outstanding.

It makes me very happy people are noticing the effort that went into the packaging – being a record collector I’m fairly old-fashioned so I wanted the whole package to have a vintage feel. To me such details as a paste-on sleeve, shrink wrap, black-only vinyl and lyrics printed inside the gatefold were essential. I even designed the labels specifically to have a very private press feel! Stephen’s a professional and conjured up a sublime image of what he was hearing in the songs. A friend of mine told me if there was an award for album art, this would win – haha, I think he’s right!

Do you have any new material you’re working on?

I have more songs written and I’d like to record a follow-up at some point – hopefully this time it won’t take four years!

From: https://www.psychedelicbabymag.com/2016/05/constantines-day-of-lig.html

Gaate - Live Storasfestivalen 2005

 Gaate - Live Storasfestivalen 2005 - Part 1

 

 Gaate - Live Storasfestivalen 2005 - Part 2

 

Even for those of you who don’t actually like folk rock as a genre in itself, what you need to understand is that Gåte are masters in the way they balance Nordic folk with modern rock, not to mention the epic and unique voice of tiny blonde prodigy, Gunnhild Sundli. My initial introduction to now my most played band came from a nearly forgotten recommendation from a Norwegian friend on Myspace, and from the quick research I did, it did not seem like there was a Norwegian teenager in the country who did not list them as a favourite band.
Relatively unknown outside Scandinavia, (though they had a large following in Germany), Gåte produce a myriad of both original materiel (“Sjå Attende”) and tributes to Norwegian folk songs and poems, (“Gjendines Bånsull”) Do not let the fact that they sing in a different language discourage you! To me, it adds a connection, a comfortableness in their identity. There is never that feeling, when you listen to them, that they have just churned out songs for the sake of it, or for the money, or for global acclaim. What you feel is the passion and dedication that went into each tiny molecule of song.
Giving most punk bands a run for their money, Gåte’s music can be tremendously rallying and exciting, such as track Rike Rodenigår demonstrates. Constrasted to this is the mournful, Sjåaren both of the “Iselilja” album. It is absolutely refreshing when I come across a band that can plunge every depth of the music sea and still keep themselves at the same time.  From: https://www.mookychick.co.uk/reviews/music/statt-opp-gate.php

 

Octo Crura - Your Ghost

Everyone can hide their dangerous side, keep their demons locked up in a cage but they will still linger on, starving for blood! Your nightmare can take on many shapes... Even the shape of a small bug. But what seems small and harmless can bite you, poison you, kill you. Nature brings life... and death. Predators and prey.
Now what or who is Octo Crura, you may ask? Well, they are somewhere in between. Not quite human, not quite creature. Guided by their Insect Queens their reign has just begun! Listen closely and perhaps one day, you will discover their most terrible secret...
Step into the glorious world of horror, poetry and insects! The italian group Octo Crura takes you into an imaginative and exciting realm that has never been seen or heard before, filled with dark melodic songs supported by the growls and screams of frontwomen Kaitlin and Van whose vocal pitch resembles the one of Maria Brinks from the band In This Moment. Their new album ‘Tagmata’ pulls you in with their unique sound of industrial metal meeting melodic death metal and coming together as one to form the most perfect fusion!  From: https://www.darktunes.com/en/releases/O/110-octo-crura

The Small Faces - Itchycoo Park

Steve Marriott and Ronnie Lane of Small Faces wrote this song, which is about skipping school to hang out at a park. Of course, with the lyrics, "What did you do there? I got high," it was fairly obvious that they were doing in the park, although the band denied that it was about drugs, kind of like John Lennon did with "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds," which was released the same year. Marriott told Creem in 1975: "The thing about 'Itchycoo Park' was that the era was wrong, and the word 'high' freaked everybody out. All the radio stations. But that song was real. Ronnie Lane and I used to go to a park called Itchycoo Park. I swear to God. We used to bunk off school and groove there. We got high, but we didn't smoke. We just got high from not going to school."
"Itchycoo Park" is the nickname of Little Ilford Park in London. An "Itchycoo" is slang for a flower found in the park called a "Stinging Nettle," which can burn the skin if touched. Said Lane: "It's a place we used to go to in Ilford years ago. Some bloke we know suggested it to us because it's full of nettles and you keep scratching."
This was the biggest American hit Small Faces ever had (they were much more popular in England), but according to Ronnie Lane, they considered it a joke when they recorded it; the band would screw around in the studio to get a laugh out of their manager Andrew Oldham. The song came out sounding so good that they started to take it seriously.
Regarding the origins of this song, Ronnie Lane explained in a 1991 interview with Record Hunter: "'Itchycoo Park' basically came from me. I lifted it from a hymn, 'God Be In My Head,' and I also got the theme to the words in a hotel in Bath or Bristol. There was a magazine in the room with a rambling account of some place in the country and it was about 'dreaming spires' and a 'bridge of sighs' – there was a write-up on this town – and I just thought they were nice lines."
This song features one of the first uses of phase-shifting production, which you can hear when the vocals and drums become distorted in the song. The technique was called comb filtering, which could later be created using a processor, but at the time required three tape machines - two of them playing the same thing at different frequencies and the third one recording it. According to Glyn Johns, who engineered the sessions, it was a staff producer at Olympic Studios named George Chkiantz who came up with the effect, and Johns was looking for a place to use it. The Faces were always looking for new sounds and encouraged Johns to use the technique on this song. Keyboardist Ian McLagan recalled to Uncut magazine: "We tried to replicate the phasing effect when we played it live. It was hopeless."
On its release, the BBC immediately banned the song because of overt drug references - "What did you do there? - I got high" and "I feel inclined to blow my mind, get hung up, feed the ducks with a bun, They all come out to groove about, Be nice and have fun in the sun."
So Small Faces manager Tony Calder explained the song had an innocent interpretation. In Marriott's biography, All Too Beautiful, by Paolo Hewitt and John Hellier, Calder says: "We told the BBC Itchycoo Park was waste ground in the East End which the band had played on as kids. We put the story out at ten and by lunchtime we were told the ban was off." McLagan (from Uncut magazine): "I never liked 'Itchycoo Park' because me and Ronnie had to sing, 'It's all too beautiful,' and you sing that a few times, and you think... It's not. But years after that I'd finally, properly, checked out the words, and realised it was about education and privilege," he added. "The 'bridge of sighs' is the one in Cambridge. The 'dreaming spires' are a reference to Oxford. Then 'to Itchycoo Park... That's where I've been,' Ronnie was saying, 'I didn't need privilege or education. Found beauty in a nettle patch in the East End of London."  From: https://www.songfacts.com/facts/small-faces/itchycoo-park

The Radiation Flowers - Lead Me Tonight

Radiation Flowers are a band from my neck of the woods, and honestly I’ve been a music journalist for almost 10 years now, and I NEVER write about bands from my neck of the woods (Saskatoon, SK Canada). RF has left me with no choice. On the surface they’re a shoegaze band, but upon a few listens their self-titled debut is elliptical and wildly varied within a pretty loose framework. The genre’s conventions are splattered all over the map. Every song has a driving sense of melody, but is never afraid to let their music breathe, and definitely never afraid to get physical (witness the brilliant "Wall of Gold" solo or the crescendo of album closer "Lead Me Tonight"). No lame odes to inertia here. This is gorgeous, spacious music arriving like uninterpreted dreams, intimate and immediate. The basic design of shoegaze can be wimpy at times — the goal a little aimless, the delivery ineffectual. Radiation Flowers stand out within this genre, and that might be a big reason I love them so much. They are much, much too good of a band to exist where I live, so I would suggest you let them exist where you do. Radiation Flowers will give you a ride for sure, but all the beauty you’ll see on the trip is serrated, magnetic. A phantasm lurks on their debut album, which somehow always manages to link soulful, fuzzed-out noise to a deeper symbiosis.  From: https://www.norecessmagazine.com/single-post/2017/05/31/a-band-you-should-know-radiation-flowers 

My Bloody Valentine - Only Shallow

My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless is the rare album that made its way into my collection without me hearing any of it until minutes after laying the cash down on the counter. I had heard plenty about the album, just not the music itself, but when it came right down to it, something about that hazy, red, distorted guitar photograph on the cover seduced me into buying it. And then came the first listen, with leadoff track “Only Shallow” surging through me, my ears left defenseless but ecstatic. The experience was akin to the infamous montage scenes in Aronofsky’s Requiem For A Dream—I soaked in the rush of sound, blood vessels expanding, pupils dilating—without the prostitution or severed limbs of course.
Millions of words and inches have already been committed to describing and discussing Loveless, and to try and add something new could either be seen as superfluous or arrogant, but everything that’s been said about this album bears repeating. It’s as stunning a rock album as one will likely ever hear, dense and noisy, chaotic but calming. Loveless is driven by guitars—big guitars, loud guitars, hazy and oblique sheets of guitar, cascading waterfalls of guitar, strings, distortion and tremolo. To hear Loveless, one would think that there were about 100 guitar tracks in every song, but Kevin Shields once debunked this myth, claiming that there are, in fact, fewer guitars on this album than on most bands’ demos. Furthermore, there are no chorus or flanger pedals on Loveless, unlike the work of many of their shoegazing contemporaries.
How, exactly, My Bloody Valentine came to create the sounds on Loveless seems almost an act of divine inspiration. The band’s approach was deceptively simple, with minimal effects pedals used, though it was most certainly a studio creation, with various producers being hired and fired over the two years during which it was recorded, and countless takes, often recorded with no communication, or even access to hearing the recording, between musicians and engineers. Still, the deft use of the equipment and the reliance upon a relatively bare-bones guitar setup led to the creation of an album that sounds enormous, surreal, even magical, but familiar and seductive.  From: https://www.treblezine.com/my-bloody-valentine-loveless-review/

Jethro Tull - Witch's Promise - Beat-Club 1970

So many speculations and interpretations of “The Witch’s Promise” by Jethro Tull [one of my favorite songs], have circulated, and I’ve come across several interesting angles. But I have my own views, which are deeply personal and rooted in hidden experiences [and probably have absolutely nothing to do with the inspirations for the original piece.]
I’ve read commentaries saying the lyrics reference countless deep concepts and opinions about religion and whether or not it’s a farce–and I can definitely see where that comes through in the imagery. But to me, the song means so much less and so much more. To me, it speaks of blackened irony: Of the Everything and Nothing that are already right here. Of cycles where people chase the same dream over and over again, only to find that–just like when they started–the autumn leaves are still falling, looking lackluster and repetitive thanks to a jaded attitude and the lost ability to feel gladness or gratitude.
The Witch’s Promise, to me, is simply an observation: What you want, if you focus heavily enough and step towards it, will come, and she’s willing to be the face of your “wish come true” . . . But will you see the gifts she saw for you and nudged your way? Will you seize them in time, or will you continue mourning the reasons you wished until the gifts are gone?
And when you seize your gift and accept what was promised you . . . what will you do with it? Don’t wait around– and if you have, don’t wait up–now it’s time to complete another cycle, so the gift promised you is going to seem “late”.  I don’t want to wait too long for the answers to my wishes, and many things I once wished for are right before me already. 
To my ears, Jethro Tull offers a clever take on a classic warning: Seize the moment. Pay attention to avoid missing the golden, fluttering moments amidst the dark mists before another year, another moment, passes. The rain is still falling, but so are the autumn leaves–and no many how many times I’ve seen them, I can enjoy them if I try.  From: https://theinksphere.com/2024/05/06/the-witchs-promise/ 

Laboratorium Pieśni - Sztoj Pa Moru

 Jakub Knera: How did you start singing? 

Alina JurczySzyn: It wasn't singing that started, but theater. I studied Polish Philology at the University of Gdańsk, specializing in theater studies, and that's what fascinated me most – working in theater, directing performances, and training as an actor. I was particularly moved by Gardzienice, which I visited frequently and wrote my master's thesis on before I was accepted to the Academy of Theatre Practices there. I traveled and participated in many workshops – including one at Brzezinka, a branch of the Grotowski Institute, where Grotowski himself worked in a paratheatrical capacity with his actors. Eventually, I began co-creating and directing performances myself, primarily at the Wybrzeżak Theater in Gdynia, but also at the Off the Bicz Theater in Sopot, the LSD Theater, and the Żak Club. 

Did you have any singing in your family? 

Both of my younger sisters went to music schools, and I was the only one who didn't. I have no musical education, and my life is music. But if I were to trace my roots, my grandfather, a singing, joyful man, was crucial to my musicality. He loved to sing – whether with his brothers at family gatherings or just on an ordinary day. But genes aside, I'm a completely urban girl, born in Gdynia and spent my entire childhood in Gdańsk Główny, surrounded by the city. I wasn't raised in the forest by my grandmother, a shaman, who taught me songs of power from a young age (laughter). 

You didn't sing? 

Singing back then was like diving for me now – something I hadn't consciously done before, and it was completely new to me. It just so happened that during the next workshop in Brzezinka, Wrocław, the instructor started choosing me more and more often to sing in front of the group. Since then, it's become clear that people want to hear my voice, that for some reason it's special to them. It stirs something in them; they say it's extraordinary. I was surprised; I didn't understand why this was happening, as I'd never done it before. So I began to explore singing, and from then on, my path slowly turned towards singing. I chose workshops that were less theatrical and more vocal. I went to singing festivals and traveled through villages with collectors of traditional melodies. I was constantly in Wrocław, because the Grotowski Institute held many workshops devoted to voice work. The workshops led by Natalka Polovynka and Serhiy Kovalevych from Maisternia Pisni were incredibly important to me. I especially remember the ones where they invited babushkas from the Drewo group. 

Was that a breakthrough? 

Yes, it was an incredible experience. When they sang Ukrainian songs in polyphony, I was transfixed. It was as if time had stopped; I cried and sang. A very intense time. And then began Gardzienice – Academy, very inspiring classes, vocal and movement training, and performances. In Gardzienice, I became deeply immersed in songs from around the world. I also went on my own expeditions, during which I collected even more songs. For example, I worked with the Tratwa Association, which organized musical expeditions near Radom, a region known for its oberek traditions. We walked through fields and villages, learning traditional music from older musicians. These musical and theatrical journeys, exploring the nature of the voice, lasted about ten years before I decided to focus on my own ensemble. 

When did you decide to create something yourself? 

When did I feel I had a strong legacy of song and musicality? I settled in the Tricity area and thought I needed to share it with someone and do something with it. I wanted to sing with a regular group of people, right where I lived. So, at first, I sang with friends. We often organized rehearsals at the music school or went to Kashubia, to my wooden cottage, and sang there all day. Eventually, I began conducting regular workshops in the Tricity area – first at the Ethnographic Museum in Oliwa, then at the University of Gdańsk, and currently at the Shakespeare Theatre. 

Thus, the Song Laboratory was born. Why the Laboratory? 

The name comes from my fascination with Jerzy Grotowski's Laboratory Theatre and with theatre-laboratories in general: those of Juliusz Osterwa, Eugenio Barba, and Peter Brook. These are the kinds of theatres that go beyond what we think of theatre and seek new avenues of expression in actor training, the truth of the role, but also the truth about the person, embracing paratheatrical activities. I'm also interested in this kind of paramusic, exploring the phenomenon of the voice, asking fundamental questions, searching for answers. It's a very mysterious subject, and one that can be studied throughout one's life. 

Translated from: http://noweidzieodmorza.com/pl/9634-alina-jurczyszyn-spiew-naturalnym-oczyszczeniem/?fbclid=IwY2xjawLep2pleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBicmlkETE5MzJSazZObkdVbWN2N2FDAR6awEP_mkLMpXDqboGdUU7ttoWuNn-GQ_DyI84v1jjrKUjEcD22zha_l1bOEw_aem_UDo-QkVgB-0HWWXTmufT_w

Church of the Cosmic Skull - Sorcery & Sabotage

Presentation has always been a central facet of Church of the Cosmic Skull‘s approach, arguably no less crucial to it than the lush vocal arrangements or tight-knit songcraft that have played out in such classically progressive fashion across their two prior albums, 2018’s Science Fiction and 2016’s Is Satan Real? With their third offering and first to be self-released through their own semi-real imprint Septaphonic Records, Everybody’s Going to Die, they bring their delivery modus to a new level entirely on all fronts, from the writing and execution of the material to the artwork for the album by Zorad, to the release method, to the theme and narrative creating of a kind of journey through a dogma of cosmic self-realization, or, as they put it, “The Psychic Ascension to Humanity,” played out across what they call ‘The Seven Objects’:

– Recognise the hallucinatory nature of reality
– Investigate all aspects of the reality-hallucination
– Receive all phenomena with equanimity
– Celebrate and uphold the freedom of art, science and thought
– Meet mistakes with forgiveness and determination
– Do what you want, with love in your heart
– Maintain focus on the unity of all living beings

To lead the listener through these precepts, Church of the Cosmic Skull — guitarist/vocalist/principal songwriter/producer Brother Bill Fisher, vocalists Sister Caroline Cawley and Sister Joanne Joyce, legkick-prone key specialist/vocalist Brother Michael Wetherburn, bassist/vocalist Brother Samuel Lloyd, and the actual-brothers Brother Joseph Stone on viola and Brother Laurence Stone on drums — have put together a complex release method. Sure, there’s a vinyl release impending, with various special versions available to order from “night black” to “exploding crystal,” “nuclear meltdown” and “cosmic rainbow” — the latter seems the most aesthetically appropriate, given the band’s penchant for color despite their all-white stage costumes — but they’ve also found a means to add complexity to a digital release, often seen as a kind of dumping of tracks onto Bandcamp and other streaming outlets. In Church of the Cosmic Skull‘s hands, even this becomes a work of carefully crafted ideological and creative construction.
They’ve dubbed it ‘The Path,” and essentially it’s a means of introducing the willing participant to the songs of Everybody’s Going to Die one at a time. Since the digital release Nov. 29, if one wants to listen to the 37-minute LP in full, it’s available, but they’ve also made it available through “The Path,” which is a process of signing up through their website and receiving a series of emails from Brother Bill that, with each one, bring an individual track stream and a new step along the purported ascension to humanity, tracing the voyage of a kind of inner-stellar pilgrim, The Protagonist (and eventually The Sorcerer), until at last the final manifestation, accompanying album-finale “Living in a Bubble,” is a stepped-outside view of the multiverse and reality as a series of subjective bubbles created by those living within them.  From: https://theobelisk.net/obelisk/2019/12/10/church-of-the-cosmic-skull-everybodys-going-to-die-review/

Broadcast - Broadcast And The Focus Group Investigate Witch Cults Of The Radio Age (full album)

1 intro / magnetic tales
2 the be colony
3 how do you get along sir
4 will you read me
5 reception / group therapy
6 a quiet moment
7 i see, so i see so
8 you must wake
9 one million years ago
10 a seancing song
11 oh you chatterbox
12 drug party
13 libra, the mirror's minor self
14 love's long listen-in
15 we are after all here
16 a medium’s high
17 ritual / looking in
18 make my sleep his song
19 royal chant
20 what i saw
21 let it begin / oh joy
22 round and round and round
23 the be colony / dashing home / what on earth took you

Musician, graphic designer and Ghost Box Records co-founder Julian House (artist behind the Focus Group) had collaborated previously on artwork and packaging by British indie electronic group Broadcast. Their shared sources of inspiration—1960s BBC soundtrack music, pulp science fiction, Europop, occult texts and jazz—led to this, their first album-length musical collaboration.
Rookie wrote that "the vast array of chopped and screwed samples–drawn from horror movies, nursery rhymes, and something that sounds like a long lost mantra-like ritual from some faraway place a hundred years ago–create a dynamic, haunting, but still pleasant mood, which is what makes it so thrilling". Vice assessed Witch Cults as "perhaps Broadcast's finest achievement, with intimations of Pink Floyd circa Piper at The Gates Of Dawn, as well as the horror film The Innocents and a whole, macabre toybox of colourful, arcane devices". PopMatters described their work as a unique postmodern approach which "seeks not show the world as it is, as a series of meaningless symbols, but to instead imagine a world that either never was or one that bubbles just a thin layer beyond perception".
BBC Music Review reviewed the album favorably, stating, "Witch Cults of the Radio Age is laced with enough wonder and intrigue to keep you coming back. It doesn't make perfect sense, but the sense of mystery is a key in itself". Drowned in Sound called the album "chaotic, overstimulating, like opening a dusty wardrobe and having an entire childhood tumble down on your head".  From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broadcast_and_The_Focus_Group_Investigate_Witch_Cults_of_the_Radio_Age 

Gentle Giant - Giant in a Box - Live on TV 1974

 Gentle Giant - Giant in a Box - Live on TV 1974 - Part 1

 

 Gentle Giant - Giant in a Box - Live on TV 1974 - Part 2

 

Gentle Giant was formed at the tail end of the 1960s by the Shulman brothers—Phil, Derek and Ray, all of whom sang and played multiple instruments—after their previous band, the psych/soul/pop troupe Simon Dupree and the Big Sound, proved marginally successful but artistically unfulfilling. 
Between 1970 and 1972, the trio (alongside guitarist Gary Green, keyboardist/vocalist Kerry Minnear and various drummers) issued four immensely distinctive, extraordinary and influential LPs whose standout characteristics—namely, charmingly complex interlocking vocal and instrumental patterns born from wide-ranging influences like folk, classical, jazz, hard rock and more—rubbed off on countless other genre acts over the years. (To name a few: Spock’s Beard, Echolyn, Banco del Mutuo Soccorso, The Flower Kings, Beardfish, Sky Architect, and perhaps even Jethro Tull via Songs From the Wood.) 
Beyond that, the release of 1972’s Octopus saw the arrival of permanent percussionist John Weathers and the subsequent departure of Phil Shulman (due to various stressors and incompatibilities); naturally, this led to the remaining two brothers and company pushing themselves especially hard to prove how well they could carry on without him. Fortunately, the result—1973’s In a Glass House—exceeded expectations and is considered by many to be their peak up to this point.
That brings us to Gentle Giant’s sixth record, 1974’s The Power and the Glory. It’s their third overt thematic sequence in as many years (after 1972’s Three Friends and the aforementioned In a Glass House). In a 2014 interview with Ultimate Classic Rock, Derek Shulman explains: “The concept for the album was based on the corruption of power and how people on the bottom are affected by the people on top. Money and power will win no matter what and the people that are hoping for the best won’t usually get the best.” (Obviously, then, it has no connection to Graham Greene’s 1940 novel of the same name.)
Pressured by their UK label—Vertigo/WWA—to be more commercial (as was the case with many of their peers at the time), they released an eponymous non-album single—which they despised—to appease them. Ironically, though, it actually foreshadows the direction they’d take on their last two or three outings. 
As for The Power and the Glory proper, it’s more or less a perfect melding of the virtuosic, musicianship-for-musicians approach of its predecessors with the increasingly more mainstream and warm sheen that’d truly begin with its follow-up, 1975’s Free Hand (a damn fine effort in its own right, of course). Filled with the sophisticated quirkiness and inventiveness fans have come to expect, The Power and the Glory also leaned closer toward hospitable hard rock than, say, the relatively cold, sparse, and bizarre In a Glass House. 
In that same interview, Shulman looks back on the full-length as follows: “A band is born, has a childhood and then goes into adulthood. I think we became an adult on The Power and the Glory. It was . . . the culmination of the best of our musicianship coming together as a band; it was a golden period for the band.” Forty-five years later, it’s hard to disagree.  From: https://rockandrollglobe.com/rock/progressive-rock/they-got-the-power-got-the-glory-gentle-giant-in-1974/

 

Tim Hart & Maddy Prior - Serving Girls Holiday / Sorry The Day I Was Married / Three Drunken Maidens

Recorded during Steeleye Span Mark II's early days, Summer Solstice -- the most advanced of the three albums that they recorded together early in their careers -- has a very different feel from the Steeleye work of the era. Tim Hart (vocals, guitar, dulcimer, harmonium, psaltery, tabor) and Maddy Prior (vocals) are working with Sweeney's Men (whence Steeleye Mark I's Terry Woods came) alumnus Andy Irvine and Steeleye Mark I guest drummer Gerry Conway. The sound is mostly fairly spare, just Hart and Prior backed by Irvine on mandolin, John Ryan on string bass, Pat Donaldson on electric bass, and Conway on percussion. The only exception is "Dancing at Whitsun," which features a very tasteful backing orchestral arrangement. Hart and Prior do a version of "False Knight on the Road" that's very different in pacing and nuance from Steeleye's, and a beautiful, droning rendition of "Bring Us in Good Ale." Their voices mesh wonderfully on "Sorry the Day I Was Married," and Prior gets a chance to shine as a solo on "Westron Wynde," "Fly Up My Cock," and the two most Steeleye-like track here, "Cannily, Cannily" and "Three Drunken Maidens."  From: https://www.allmusic.com/album/summer-solstice-mw0000617338#review 

Uriah Heep - I Wanna Be Free

The third album from Uriah Heep sees them taking further giant steps forward. The rhythm section is still in a state of turmoil, but the nucleus of Box/Byron/Hensley have found a solid direction, and are approaching the pinnacle of their combined creativity.
The title track has become one of the band's most enduring pieces, a solid five minute chunk of loud, infectious rock, with a wall of sound, and a breathtaking pace. The instrumental breaks are quite stunning, with Box in particular in fine form. Towards the end of the track, Bronze label-mates Osibisa add additional percussion as it increases pace before reaching a climactic conclusion. I only discovered recently, that the lead vocals on the track are performed by Ken Hensley, not David Byron, although the latter always took the lead when the song was performed live. Quite why this happened is puzzling, as the overall sound is very much as if Byron himself was singing as usual.
The album includes the epic "July Morning", with its majestic prog sound, and superb structure. The track alternates between soft and loud passages, and includes a wonderful Hammond solo followed by Byron reaching ever higher with his piercing screams. The main instrumental theme which closes the track is basically simple, but transformed by a guest appearance from Manfred Mann on synthesiser. While Hensley would later master this instrument himself, they were still somewhat rare at the time, giving the track a very progressive feel in the early 70's. A truly magnificent piece of music.
The rest of the tracks are all very strong, including the melodic ballad "What should be done", and the twin guitar lead on "Tears in my eyes". With this album, the Uriah Heep "sound" was firmly established. The tracks have great power, while strong melodies are still very much the priority. "July morning" especially is an absolute classic.  From: https://www.progarchives.com/album.asp?id=5896