Thursday, June 22, 2023

Sheila Chandra - Ever So Lonely


 #Sheila Chandra #world music #world fusion #worldbeat #Indian music

Born in South London to a South Indian immigrant family, Sheila Chandra discovered her voice at the age of twelve and whilst at Theatre Arts school. From this moment her chosen path was to be a singer. Lacking any real contacts or access to the music business, she nevertheless honed her vocal skills as a labour of love, spending up to two hours a night throwing her voice into the tall, drafty and uncarpeted stairwell of the family home: “I didn’t know how to manufacture an opportunity, but I was determined that when a chance came my way I would be ready.”
A chance did come her way, perhaps drawn by the weight of such unshakable belief. Steve Coe, a writer and record producer, was about to form a band, Monsoon, as an outlet for his increasingly Indian influenced material. He came across Chandra’s voice on an old audition tape, lying in a box at Hansa Records and knew that he had found his singer: “The richness, fluidity and quality of her voice struck me immediately. And then when I requested a photo from the file and found that Sheila was Asian, everything else seemed to fall into place.” Monsoon put out an EP on Steve Coe’s newly formed Indipop label and were signed by the far sighted Dave Bates at Phonogram. The band’s first single ‘Ever So Lonely’ took a song written around a raga and, utilizing the new production techniques available, came up with an irresistible but radical modern pop fusion sound.
Eventually, Chandra walked away from it all, frustrated by the increasing lack of communication between Phonogram and Monsoon over artistic direction. She went back to the Indipop label to learn her craft as a writer and musician. Free from business constraints and in complete control of her creative life, there followed a remarkable and prolific two-year period. Her first four solo albums for the label chronicle a profound transformation in the quality and depth of her work, both as a singer and increasingly as a writer, in her then chosen field of Asian fusion — learning from the very structures she had ignored throughout her childhood.
Her new found ability to cross continents in a single vocal line and weave seamlessly the vocal styles of the Arab world, Andalucia, Ireland, Scotland, India and more ancient structures such as that of Gregorian plainsong made for a true fusion within one mind and one voice. Weaving My Ancestor’s Voices established Chandra as a spiritual heir to a ‘whole world’ vocal tradition, whilst Coe’s sensitive and painstaking production enhanced this further and acted as an integral part of the recording, particularly on the virtuoso vocal percussion pieces ‘Speaking In Tongues’ I and II. After touring the USA with Peter Gabriel’s 1993 WOMAD tour, there followed The Zen Kiss and ABoneCroneDrone. The latter was a daring minimalist strategy to lure the listener out of long accustomed passivity to hear, as Chandra does, the living symphony of harmonics within the simplest of drones.
In 2001, Sheila released a one-off collaboration album with The Ganges Orchestra called This Sentence is True (The Previous Sentence Is False) on the tiny Indipop Records; a project she said helped her break out of her voice and drone box. In the meantime, Sheila’s transcendent vocals from the Real World trilogy had became a staple ingredient of unauthorized dance remixes.  From: https://realworldrecords.com/artists/sheila-chandra/

Silly Wizard - Glasgow Peggy


 #Silly Wizard #Andy M. Stewart #Phil & Johnny Cunningham #Scottish folk #Irish folk #Celtic music #traditional

Silly Wizard were pioneers in developing the modern Scottish folk group blueprint, popularizing Scottish music around the world through playing traditional music with a never-before-heard energy, spirit and spontaneity and introducing original songs and tunes written from within the tradition.
Formed in 1972 by guitarists Gordon Jones, Bob Thomas and Bill Watkins and named after a character who shared their Edinburgh flat, Silly Wizard began playing at the capital’s Triangle Folk Club. Soon after singer Chris Pritchard replaced Bill Watkins they added a teenager who would go on to play a crucial part in the band’s image as well as their music, Johnny Cunningham. A tremendously exciting, virtuosic fiddler, who was still at school and often had to be picked up from and returned to the school gates after overnight drives from gigs, Johnny energized the band’s live performances and helped to generate a new young following for folk music.
By the time they released their first album, Silly Wizard in 1976, the band had become a sextet, including Andy M. Stewart, a singer and songwriter with the tradition in his soul, and bass guitar powerhouse Martin Hadden, and were touring regularly throughout the UK and Europe. They were shortly to add a second virtuoso named Cunningham, with Johnny’s younger brother, Phil, replacing Freeland Barbour on accordion, and went on to break into the American market in the most spectacular manner.
Booked to play an opening twenty-minute spot in front of an audience of thousands at Philadelphia Folk Festival in 1979, Silly Wizard, now in its classic five-piece line-up (Bob Thomas having left) won a standing ovation and almost instantly created a huge demand in the US for a brand of folk music that could be as passionate in the low gears as it could be rousingly intense at full tilt and was always presented with wit and an infectious sense of fun.
So began a golden era as Silly Wizard not only headlined folk festivals on both sides of the Atlantic and were capable of selling out the 3000-plus capacity Playhouse in their home town but also branched out into theatre work with the Everyman Theatre in Liverpool and composed and performed the theme tune for Scottish Television’s Take the High Road as well as releasing a succession of consistently high quality, strong-selling albums.
Silly Wizard continued working at a frenetic pace until 1988, when the band that had also included singer Maddy Taylor, bassists Neil Adam and Alastair Donaldson and Dougie Maclean deputising for Johnny Cunningham on fiddle left a gap in Scottish music that has never been filled.
Gordon Jones, Bob Thomas and Martin Hadden went to achieve success in the production side of the recording business.  Andy M. Stewart formed acclaimed duos, first with Manus Lunny then with Gerry O’Beirne. Phil Cunningham remains at the forefront of traditional music in his partnership with Aly Bain and his role at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. Johnny Cunningham, after settling in New York, died tragically young in 2003.  From: https://projects.handsupfortrad.scot/hall-of-fame/silly-wizard/


Wednesday, June 21, 2023

MoeTar - Confectioner's Curse


 #MoeTar #Moorea Dickason #progressive rock #crossover prog #avant-prog #art rock

US band MoeTar was formed back in 2008, with vocalist Moorea Dickason and bassist Tarik Ragab the initial core of the band. They released their debut album back in 2010, and in a fairly short amount of time they had managed to create enough of a buzz around them that they were signed to US label Magna Carta Records, who reissued their debut album in 2012. "Entropy of the Century" is their second full length production, and was released in 2014.
The bands self-description mentions that their aim is to "create catchy, yet complex, music that attempts to make sense of our confusing world." That is a most apt description I think, a concise summary of what this band is truly all about. The catchy factor mainly boils down to one element though, in my point of view at least, and to be able to enjoy this quirky potpourri of multiple stylistic traditions a certain affection for that element is needed.
In terms of style this band has been labelled in an intriguing manner of ways, and when listening to an album’s worth of material by them deciding just where to place them isn't the easiest of tasks you might get. Just about all the songs tends to revolve around alternating accessible and challenging sections, where the former can be in a myriad of different styles while the latter tends to revolve around a jazz or avant-oriented approach, at times combining both of these elements. With everything from gentle piano ballads to majestic guitar and organ combinations bordering hard rock for the accessible parts of the compositions, the idiom of "the only rule there is no rule" seems to apply, and as for the challenging escapades they typically involve challenging instrument movements and more of a dissonant and sometimes chaotic expression. A touch of Zappa might be present here and there, possibly a slight taste of free jazz tinged elements may appear from time to time, but whether it's any of those or sections beyond the scope of both, they are just about all challenging to get your ears and brain around.
The key element that binds this all together, and most often impressively so, is the vocal talent of Moorea Dickason. She has a strong, powerful and emotional laden voice, one that at the most impressive is so spellbinding that you don't really take too much notice about anything else happening. This may be at least part of the reason why I find the opening half of this album to be fairly flawless, as I am, even after numerous listens, just so floored by the sheer talent of the lead vocals in those first half dozen compositions. My notes and memory tries telling me that it's also because the more challenging escapades weren't quite as challenging or not taking up quite as much play time in those compositions, but that may just be a side effect of finding the vocals so mightily impressive in that initial half.
It probably goes without saying that I wasn't quite as enthralled by the second half of this disc of course. My notes and my memory conveys that these compositions, starting with We Machines, came across as a bit more stilted, not quite as powerful on an emotional level, arguably a tad more technical and with more numerous or elongated sections of escapades of a more challenging nature. This is probably much more a subjective experience rather than an unbiased fact of course, and while not quite as breathtaking these are still creations that are highly charming in their own right as well. It is, for the most part, the difference between great and brilliant.
At the end of the day my impression is that MoeTar is a band that will have a finite appeal, as their compositions tends to feature sections that are rather challenging and that do take some time getting used to. The big draw are the vocals of Moorea Dickason; she is a dominating presence throughout, and you truly need to like her vocals to be able to enjoy this band. In fact, I suspect that quite a few people enjoy this band despite their music and because of her vocals, as she is a top notch vocalist on just about any level you can imagine. If you have an affection for challenging music combined with quality lead vocals in general and female lead vocals in particular, MoeTar is a band that merits a check, and this second album of theirs is as good a place to start as anywhere else really.  From: https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=6171

Saturday, June 10, 2023

Bent Knee - Live at Big Nice Studio

 
 Part 1
 

Part 2

 #Bent Knee #progressive rock #art rock #industrial #baroque pop #avant-garde #music video

New music rarely can surprise today but, once in a while, artists emerge whose works are as accessible as they’re intellectual, and it doesn’t take any effort to be charmed and mesmerized by such creators. Boston’s Bent Knee belong to this category: unlike many of their perceivably alternative peers, the sextet’s exploration of ethereal and noisy extremes isn’t “for the sake of it” kind of exercise, just because the result feels so organic – never more so, perhaps, than on the band’s latest album, their third full-length studio offering. There are almost-hits on “Say So”; the audience only has to embrace the record. Too bad, then, Bent Knee sometimes play to a very limited, if utterly captivated, crowd. Still, one may sense it’s just a matter of time before they hit the big time. While it’s happening, it’s tempting to tap into the ensemble’s collective conscious; that’s why, before the group’s Toronto gig, this scribe sat on a near-venue lawn with guitarist Ben Levin, singer-keyboardist Courtney Swain, bassist Jessica Kion and violin player Chris Baum for an engaging conversation.

– Guys, you are clearly getting traction now. Is it because the band are backed by a label now or vice versa: you got a record deal because audiences started paying attention?

Ben: Having the label deal has definitely helped us get traction because it’s enabled us to reach a new audience and gave as a sort of a seal: “Hey, these people are working hard and they’re serious!” The listeners know that Cuneiform wouldn’t sign bands that aren’t very active and trying to make the best music they can as much as they can. In terms of what came first – the traction from Cuneiform or us getting traction and then the deal with Cuneiform – it’s a mix of both, because we’d just finished a three-month tour last summer before Cuneiform approached us, and I think just the fact that we had been out for so long – it was our tenth tour or something – and that we already worked so much was important for the label in their decision to sign us.

– So having Cuneiform backing you gives you validation in the listener’s eyes?

Everyone (at the same time): Absolutely!

Ben: I don’t think labels in general will be that important or around much longer because things are just changing so much that the stuff that makes money in music is more based around live performance now, so unless labels start to play a bigger role in that economic stream… There’s not enough money coming in from recordings themselves, and a big part of why a label is useful these days is that seal of approval. But a lot of people still hold on to the idea that labels are the tastemakers and doorkeepers.

– But from a purely financial standpoint, would it be easier for you to operate now?

Chris: Yes and no. With Cuneiform, because of how much we tour, we’re actually our label’s bigger customers as we wind up purchasing our own records from them, wholesale, and then go out and sell the CDs at shows. It’s hard to say because we’re gaining a larger audience thanks to Cuneiform and, like we’ve been saying, the seal of approval has also helped us validate claims and propel our music forward, but at the same time, we’re making less per record.

Ben: That they do all that fulfillment, that’s huge. While we’re out on the road, we can’t be sending our records out to people who buy them; that’s something the label does that’s useful.

– The music that you play and that pulls people to the band is characterized as “avant-garde pop”; but what’s so avant-garde about it in your eyes?

Courtney: There’s a lot of experimentation in how we’re putting together different forms of the song, but I guess it’s a mindset more than a product. We’re most interested in creating something new: that’s the whole idea of being “avant.” There is a genre and a market for music right now where people are essentially creating the same thing to fill the specific needs of filling a silence in a cafe, people dancing; essentially, commercial music. And I think the whole idea of being avant is that we’re trying to create what’s new. Certainly, if we wanted to be imitative it could be imitative as a byproduct, but we’re trying to create something that’s more than just a regurgitation of what’s happened before.

– Do you have to somewhat restrain your experimentation to retain a pop aspect?

Jessica: I don’t think so. We’re going as far as we would like to go, and that’s both as weird as we get and as normal and acceptable as we get. Every new song kind of steers the ship in a slightly different direction with regards to genre or techniques that we’re tying together into our world, and we are always going in a new place.

Chris: Basically every genre label that has been given to Bent Knee has not been coming from us. We’re not composing music to fit into any kind of genre box; we’re composing music that we like, and the only barrier for a song entry into the repertoire is that all of us in the band have to really love it and be behind it. (“Yeah” and nods from everybody.) We’ve never writing to make sure we’re in the pop box or the experimental box; we’re just writing music that we really would like to exist in the world, and then, after the fact, it gets labelled in a box as we have to figure out where to send it off to, but that’s not at all a part of our writing process, this consideration of genre.

– Many of your pieces are comprised of a few sections, and I think you could easily make a separate song out of each of those. How hard it is to construct such a piece, and how do you decide where to stop and not add or subtract anything from it?

Chris: With every detail you add to a song you’re either helping to create momentum or you’re destroying momentum, and I think a good song carries you through the whole way, so throughout the whole song you’re engaged as a listener, and it takes you on a journey to the end. When we’re creating sections, we’re trying to further the story and push the momentum forward, so sometimes if things are very secular and the same thing is happening over and over again, it can be helpful to make a sudden change to very new territory, and that’s why we can sometimes fit maybe two songs into one of ours. But then, when we draw the line, we’re not going any further and not adding any more sections because, eventually, if you keep adding too much stuff you blur the whole experience so it doesn’t feel like a journey anymore – it feels like you’re lost in the abyss. That’s how we gauge it – is this furthering the momentum of the song or is it hurting it? – and then we consider what to add.

– Is your Berklee background helpful in this process or is it restricting creativity?

Jessica: When I studied songwriting at Berklee, we learned a lot of songs with really strict forms, and so I feel, after writing songs at Berklee, I always have what a song should be according to people who study songs in the background. But when we’re writing in a rehearsal, I don’t think it changes how we feel about the song we’re working on. Maybe as a principle we prefer not taking to a normal musical form like A-B-A-B-B, B, B, B forever (laughs) which is very popular right now. In general, we all like to have more sections than just A and B, or at least have a reason why the song winds up being whatever it becomes.

– But isn’t a simplification to call your composition “a song”?

Ben: The quote I like to call on all the time is: “Lyrics make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. Songs make you feel thoughts”. Our goal is to make you feel the thoughts, so calling it “a song” is appropriate as long as there are lyrics.

Chris: If there are lyrics and the piece itself holds its own outside of a larger structure, that’s the only requirement I see for a song.

– Did it take you long to learn to collectively construct a song? I feel seams on your debut album but sections flow into one another seamlessly now.

Chris: It’s getting quicker. When we first started doing this, having six people with creative ideas and strong opinions and different backgrounds in the same room, there used to be a lot of butting of heads, so especially with “Shiny Eyed Babies” when we were hashing all that out, it was like pulling teeth because we couldn’t all come to agreement on anything, but we were committed to this idea that everyone needed to agree on everything, so it took a very long time to actually finish that record and turn it in. But since that process happened and we’re all very happy with the outcome, things have gotten much quicker just because we trust each other a lot more and we can validate each other’s ideas. So, it’s getting faster but it still takes a while, and part of our process is: someone will bring in a core of a song and then we all hammer away at it, and once it’s in a playable format we play it out, and we play it in front of an audience to see how it feels to us and see how the audience reacts, and then we take it back to the workshop and continue working out the kinks. Then we get it to the studio, and the last step of our writing process is sitting down with it and continue to reshape it so it takes on its final recorded form.

– Going from quiet to loud section and back again is an assault on the senses. Is it vital for you – especially from the vocal perspective?

Courtney: Is moving dynamically necessary? Oooh, it’s a good question. I was talking before about how we want to do something new, and that idea applies to what we do ourselves, but at a certain point it’s really hard not to repeat yourself, and one thing that we do repeat or we do rely on is that everyone’s playing loud, because there’s a certain visceral feeling to just being hit with that wash, that assault on the senses as you described it – there is something to that. But we’re trying to keep it up there and not use it too much, so that when we do use it it’s because we want to conjure a really intense feeling in a listener, but also because we want to express something within us. Most of the music we write is based on something that happened in our lives, although sometimes we write it like a story that we made up, but even if it’s someone else’s experience that we’re all performing, it’s because we all think of ourselves as introspective people and we need that relief of playing loud and playing hard: it’s just the way that we cope with life… at least I’m speaking for myself. When we get back from touring and stop playing out for a while, we’re emotionally constipated in a way. I think I’m more of a performer than a writer and, for example, Ben’s more of a writer than a performer; but my medium – one that I’m most connected with – is performing in front of people. So in that sense assault on the senses is sort of a need.

Jessica: Just to add to that, I think that a cathartic experience for us, and for the audience more importantly, is playing really loud and then playing really soft or stopping. It’s something that a lot people don’t expect. It’s a very interesting thing to do to an audience, because I feel like a lot of dynamics are flattened with a lot of bands who play loud or soft for their entire performance. But to abruptly go from really loud to really soft is magical!

– So you consciously put an element of surprise into every song, right?

Courtney: That is a byproduct of our method. Sometimes we’re being surprising on purpose, but sometimes it’s just what we feel the songs need, and it might be surprising but it does happen. (Laughs.)

– Is there also an element of synesthesia in the thing that you do?

Ben: There is definitely a sense of imagery that we all get from what we hear in some form or another, but since none of us has synesthesia full-on, and none of us agrees, “Hey, let’s make music that’s the color red!” or “Let’s make music that reminds me of water!” we don’t go and do that, so I don’t know if it translates very strongly in that way.

– Orchestral scope of your pieces like “Little Specks Of Calcium”: do you use it for the best sonic expression or for theatrical presentation?

Ben: For sonic expression, for sure: we’re looking for a sound first and foremost. An original electronic version of “Little Specks Of Calcium” that existed before the band worked on it was not dynamic; it was pretty flat – it was kind of neat flat! But when we started playing it didn’t really feel great; it was part of where we got that exploding sound from, it worked live – it was working.

– Would you like to work with a real orchestra at some point?

All at once (laughing): Yeah. Yes. Sure. It would be awesome.

Ben: I’m scared of brass in arrangements, but yeah, bring it on, bring an orchestra.

Jessica (laughing): Tell them!

Ben: Tell them to give us an orchestra! (Everybody laughs.)

Chris: We’ll make good use of it.

From: https://dmme.net/interviews/interview-with-bent-knee
 
 

Alice Cooper - Elected


 #Alice Cooper #hard rock #heavy metal #glam rock #art rock #classic rock #glam metal #garage rock #1970s #music video

Alice Cooper’s truly hilarious promo film for Elected, features everyone’s favourite shock-rocker cruising the streets on his fictitious presidential campaign, ‘meeting’ the public (including one lady who appears to think he’s an actual candidate) and planning his next senatorial move with the aid of a suited-up chimp. It’s hard to convey in words just how expertly assembled this bit of irreverent comic nonsense is, from the moment a limo pulls up to reveal him grinning out of the window, to the madcap rally invaded by someone in a sub-Banana Splits elephant suit at the end, but if you’re familiar with Elected and know how good it is, then saying that it’s a perfectly judged visual accompaniment should get the manifesto across just fine. What’s particularly interesting is that while this may all seem like a two-fingered response to America’s political establishment in the wake of Watergate, the actual scandal was still some months away from breaking when the song was recorded and indeed released as a single, and this promo film will almost certainly have in fact been filmed while the initial attempt at covering up was taking place. Nothing ever hits quite so hard as inadvertent satire way before the event.  From: https://timworthington.org/2020/08/07/were-all-gonna-rock-to-the-rules-that-i-make/

Forget Marilyn Manson, forget the Sex Pistols; when it came to shocking the self-appointed guardians of international morality to the core, Alice Cooper pretty much wrote the handbook. Flaunting a sketchy past swathed in urban legend and cunningly fabricated falsehoods concerning witches, ouija boards, dismembered chickens, blurred genders and necrophilia, Alice Cooper succeeded in outraging the forces of decency to an unprecedented degree over the course of his casual early-70s transition from cult notoriety to mainstream ubiquity. Cooper’s infamy was such that in May 1973 Leo Abse, the incumbent Labour MP for Pontypool, spluttered in the House of Commons: “I regard his [Cooper’s] act as an incitement to infanticide for his sub-teenage audience. He is deliberately trying to involve these kids in sado-masochism. He is peddling the culture of the concentration camp. Pop is one thing, anthems of necrophilia are another.” The nation’s leading censorial nanny figure, Mary Whitehouse, head of the National Viewers’ and Listeners’ Association, offered eager support to Abse’s campaign to ban Alice Cooper from returning to the UK. But as public reaction veered in the general direction of hysteria, sales of Billion Dollar Babies (Cooper’s most provocative recording to date) soared stratospherically; then, as now, controversy sells, and in 1973 nobody was selling more than Alice Cooper. Of course, back in those days Alice Cooper were a band; five individuals who had translated a shared fascination for the mop-tops and the macabre into a million-dollar industry that had not only brought them universal vilification as depraved, corruptive pariahs, but also celebrity beyond their wildest dreams.
The quintet’s story begins innocently enough in Phoenix, Arizona, when track athlete Vincent Furnier is volunteered to organise the Cortez High School’s autumn 1964 Letterman Talent Show. Unfortunately no one seems to boast any discernible talent, so Vince encourages some friends to take the stage as The Earwigs where they mime along to Beatles records while wearing Beatles wigs. Guitarist Glen Buxton can actually play his instrument. And while drummer John Speer fumbles his way around the rudiments of percussion, bassist Dennis Dunaway hones his craft with the benefit of some valuable lessons from Glen. The Earwigs metamorphose into The Spiders; they play local Battle Of The Bands shows; and they replace their departing rhythm guitarist John Tatum with ex-Cortez High football star Michael Bruce of The Trolls. Following a move to LA in spring ’67, the fledgling Coopers, now known as The Nazz, replace John Speer with fellow Phoenix emigré Neal Smith and set about endearing themselves to the Sunset Strip in-crowd by hosting regular séances.  Soon enough – now that they’re mixing in a social circle that includes The Doors’ Jim Morrison and Love’s Arthur Lee – Miss Christine (of The GTOs) arranges for the band to audition for Frank Zappa’s Straight label. The somewhat over-eager Coopers famously turn up for their 6:30 pm appointment at 6:30 am, but find their naive tenacity amply rewarded when Zappa offers them a record deal. Two days after changing their name to Alice Cooper they are taken on as the house support band at the 20,000-capacity Cheetah Ballroom, where they gradually build a following in spite of the fact that their vocalist – having ditched the name Vince in favour of the infinitely more noteworthy Alice – had taken to wearing full make-up and a pink clown costume.
Gradually, the winning Alice Cooper formula takes shape, and after recording a brace of feet-finding collections on Zappa’s Straight imprint (1969’s Pretties For You and ’70’s Easy Action) the band sign to Warner Brothers and, with Canadian whiz-kid producer Bob Ezrin at the controls, hit the peak of their form with three set-piece collections released in rapid succession: June ’71’s Love It To Death (the album that shocked America), December ’71’s Killer (the album that conquered America) and July ’72’s School’s Out (the album that conquered the world). School’s Out, bolstered by the enormity of its anthemic title track, quickly attained the accolade of being the biggest-selling album in Warners’ history and, thanks to a frenzied tabloid press virtually foaming at the mouth with a level of hyperbolic vitriol unseen since the advent of the Rolling Stones, Alice Cooper became the most newsworthy and controversial band on the planet. But now came the difficult bit. In the face of blanket condemnation from the great, the good, the humourless, the pious and the post-pubescent, the band needed to consolidate their position. Specifically, they needed to make the greatest album of their career: an over-inflated Grand Guignol masterpiece; an ostentatiously offensive, flashy, crass and unbelievably expensive combination of Herschel Gordon Lewis and Busby Berkeley positively guaranteed to expand the generation gap to Grand Canyon proportions. In short, they needed to make Billion Dollar Babies. Following School’s Out was always going to be a daunting task, but with band morale at an all-time high no one involved harboured a shred of doubt that they could not only do it, but also do it in style.  From: https://classicrockreview.wordpress.com/2021/07/27/the-scandalous-story-of-alice-coopers-billion-dollar-babies-1973-2020/

Laboratorium Piesni - Karanfilče Devojče


 #Laboratorium Piesni #world music #European folk #Eastern European folk #traditional #polyphonic chant #Slavic folk music #a capella #white voice #Polish #music video

Things you can learn from traditional folk music: You know what’s the least cool thing on Earth when you’re a teenager in Poland? Traditional folk music, that’s what. Only village grandmas would perform it when I was a kid, they sang in regional dialect which sounded weird and archaic, and the lyrics never made any sense. “A rose grew in my garden, tell me dear Marysia if you’ll marry me. How can I tell you this, how can I know if my mom will agree.” Totally relatable for a kid who’s not going to marry anyone for at least the next six hundred years, and is certainly not going to ask her mom for permission if she finally decides to do so.
But the worst thing of all was “Marysia”. In Polish and other Eastern European languages every name comes in several different forms. There’s an official version for adults you don’t know very well, there’s a “naughty kid” version which in my days was the only acceptable form to be used among teenagers, and there’s Marysia. This is a form of my name Maria used either when speaking to little children or to someone you’d like to be tender with. When you’re a teenage punk rebel it almost sounds like an insult. Somehow in the old times people weren’t as creative in naming kids as they are now, so literally every traditional Polish song had a Marysia or KasieÅ„ka in it. Being the only Marysia in class that had a lot of such songs assigned in the school curriculum was a great opportunity for all other kids to make fun of you. It took me many years to find traditional music pleasant to listen to, or even acceptable.
The first band that did this for me was Arkona, who sneakily smuggled traditional folk influences into their heavy metal songs. They sang in Russian, so even if the lyrics were still ridiculous and archaic it didn’t bother me at all cause I only understood a few words. I fell in love with Arkona because of their incredible lead singer, a five foot blonde girl with the most Earth-shattering voice. She could start with a touching, lyric melody and change it into a demonic growl a few seconds later. I hadn’t thought I would find female growl attractive, but Masha carries such power in hers it’s fucking unbelievable.
With time I got to enjoy other traditional Eastern European songs, even if they didn’t come together with growl and heavy guitar riffs. I learned to appreciate the ancient wisdom in these ridiculously archaic lyrics that puts my remarkably modern life in perspective. Yes, I’m an independent, self-sufficient woman who can choose whether or whom to marry, but this simply wasn’t the case for my female ancestors. Life in a village used to be incredibly hard, and making a living independently wasn’t an option for anyone, not only women. No one would think about independence when they struggled to survive. Even my own grandma got married at the age of eighteen to a 30-year-old she just met, as she explained, mostly to escape from her abusive stepfather.
It also serves as a guiding anchor through different stages of life. This is not a kind of music you would create as a masterpiece to be performed on stage. These were ordinary songs sung by ordinary people as they went through different events in their lives. There were at least a few for every occasion. Birth and death, love and heartbreak, work and rest, joy and sorrow, marriage and pesky in-laws, sowing and reaping, there was a song that could help you make sense of any of these experiences, and process the emotions that arise with it.
Music creates a kind of emotional resonance that words alone will never do. Singing together synchronizes minds and souls in a way that is difficult to describe, as I learned in traditional music workshops. If you’re going through childbirth, death, marriage, or breakup, everyone singing with you validates your experience, shows you that they understand what you’re going trough, and that what is happening is a normal part of life. It integrates your emotions into the whole community, and helps you heal the challenging ones.
I have my own wedding coming soon and I want a ceremony that won’t be just a government official talking about civil rights and obligations. Even if they prepared the most touching speech, it would still be processed through the rational parts of the brain first. I’d rather go directly into the hearts and souls. So though the irony is not lost on me, I’m going to bring some of the ancient wedding ritual songs I used to despise so much as a kid to guide us and all of our guests through the most important moment of our lives so far. I even put a “Marysia” on our wedding invitation cards.  From: https://madeincosmos.net/things-you-can-learn-from-traditional-folk-music/ 

Ouzo Bazooka - Clouds of Sorrow


 #Ouzo Bazooka #psychedelic rock #neo-psychedelia #Middle Eastern rock #garage rock #Middle Eastern psych rock #desert rock #psychedelic surf #Isreali #music video

Ouzo Bazooka was formed in Tel Aviv, a city with its own unique lifestyle, where one can feel that the vibrant urban scene is driven by cultural coexistence and vigorous creation. Drawing influences from this melting pot and exotic Middle Eastern feel, along with classic hard rock, psychedelic art, garage rock and surf – Ouzo Bazooka’s sound is a dizzying concoction of east meets west.
Leading the pack is renowned musician and local guitar hero, Uri Brauner Kinrot, who grew up on the sunny shores of the Mediterranean sea, absorbing surf culture and playing a mean rock guitar. Uri has been active in the music scene for over a decade, throughout which he has played with, recorded for, and helped shape the influential sounds of big names such as Balkan Beat Box, Shantel, Firewater and Kocani Orkestar. Uri is also the leader of the critically acclaimed Mediterranean surf band Boom Pam, who are currently collaborating with Turkish psychedelic-folk legend Selda BaÄŸcan. His unique sounds have made their way to far corners of the world, rocking out major music festivals such as Roskilde, Glastonbury, Fuji Rock, Lollapalooza and many more.
After roaming the globe and spreading his mediterranean-chic love, Uri felt the urge to pursue a new project using earlier influences that had always echoed in the back of his mind. He returned to the sounds and artists that have shaped him since his teens; Cream’s blasting energies, Link Wray’s surfed-up style and The Sonics’ soulful garage feel. Uri’s kaleidoscopic vision exemplifies good ol’ rock n’ roll with an oriental tinge, which is undoubtedly heard in his latest endeavor, Ouzo Bazooka. Recorded with local giants such as Adam Scheflan on bass and Kutiman on drums, the album consists of several catchy hits granting a melodic-pop feel that brings a sweet sound to the ears with a tangy middle eastern twist. Ouzo Bazooka’s self-titled debut album was released in 2014 and kicked off the bands career with a brilliant start.
Uri then decided to team up with drummer, Ira Raviv (Monti Fiori, Boom Pam) and keyboard player Dani Ever Hadani (Rami Fortis, Boom Pam) to form the present band and create the second album, Simoom. The album is an elegant demonstration of Uri’s ability to combine all of his influences and experiences together in the smoothest way possible. The album takes you on a dreamy psychedelic journey through heavy fuzzed guitars, colourful synthesisers, roaring drums and “garage-esque” fun. This well-performed blend can easily be heard throughout the album, from the spacey psychedelic keys and vocals on Look Around, to the traditional heavy dabke groove of Clouds of Sorrow, and up until the swinging thundering drums on Black Witch.  From: https://www.stolenbodyrecords.co.uk/ouzo-bazooka