New forms of life: Gil Mellé, The Andromeda Strain OST

Let me take you back to 1969 (not the song by The Stooges, mind you). It was a time of change and new developments. A young med school student by name of Michael Crichton put together a novel called The Andromeda Strain; it would propel him to fame and a successful career as a novelist. In 1971, a movie based on The Andromeda Strain was released, the film becoming a staple in my household since before I was born. I remember growing up watching in fright or perhaps fascination of germs from outer space; I blame this movie for my ongoing odd dreams of laboratories and obsession with strange diseases and organisms. I suppose I can also blame it for laying the foundations for my interest in experimental music since the soundtrack was one of the earliest completely electronic scores in motion picture history.

Bear in mind the era we are discussing. Most household electronics we grew up with were unheard of. Computers were the size of your average house. There were no Casios in the discount bin at Toys R’ Us with which to play around and make odd noises. If you wanted to play a synthesizer keyboard, you had to either find one made by various fledgling manufacturers, or build one yourself. This was the time for the likes of Bob Moog and Wendy Carlos to gain a certain measure of fame for being pioneers of the construction and usage of electronic instruments. Among the names listed as early adopters of electronic music was Gil Mellé. Known for both his jazz music and film and television scores, he was selected to compose the soundtrack to The Andromeda Strain.

Mellé’s experimental minimal composition is the perfect complement to the unsettling implications of what is seen onscreen. The unearthly notes cascading from Mellé’s home-built synthesizer develop a sense of unease in the listener. The sounds I’m hearing create a sensation like the seizures character Dr. Leavitt experiences several times onscreen. Blindly staring out, brain functioning not as it is should. This is the music that has been echoing back and forth across my pathetic human synapses since childhood. Mom and Dad asleep on the couch (a common occurrence with this film), my youthful eyes staring at the screen and finding the weird noises infinitely more fascinating than the words I was hearing, despite the immediate and lasting association with the Odd Man Hypothesis long before I understood what it meant. For a while, I was a fan of electronic music; then, I shifted and had an open hatred of many varieties of electronic music. Dredging this soundtrack from the depths of memory brings me back full circle; I need a synthesizer.

I have one mere complaint with The Andromeda Strain Original Soundtrack: it’s too bloody short. The movie runs 130 minutes, but the soundtrack runs a scant 25:41. The same two-minute tunes are reused over and over throughout the film, but I have no problem with the repetition. Strikes me as economical, actually. It also builds a familiarity of a sort, the only thing being familiar is the fear and shock of our characters every time they make some portentous discovery about the organism at hand, or when said bug does something unexpected. However, for a separate release, I feel like I need more. Call me greedy, a devouring spirit not unlike a music-munching Cthulhu or tune-snacking Cookie Monster. But, to be fair, what was made is damn amazing regardless of how much of it there is.

Let us flash forward from 1971 to 1996 and the release of :Zoviet*France:’s Digilogue. The first three minutes of the opening track “Alchemagenta” come off like a spirit brother to The Andromeda Strain soundtrack. Echoes from the past showing their influence, I suppose. If there were not people such as Gil Mellé playing around with analog circuitry, we most likely would not have many of our experimental bands today.

If you’re a fan of experimental, electronic, and ambient music, then I heartily recommend this, if you can find it. My understanding was that the soundtrack album was only released in 1971 on vinyl in two separate (and extremely limited) editions: one was printed on a hexagonal record in a hexagonal folding sleeve, and a standard-size record in a standard square sleeve. Both editions have been long out of print and fetch a pretty penny (Amazon Marketplace sellers want 150 USD for the round LP and 200 USD for the hexagonal). However, someone, somewhere, must have the rights to this music, because it’s issued on CD and for sale for 19.95 USD at Monsters In Motion. So, should you only have a fraction of what it would cost to purchase this soundtrack on vinyl, you can at least have it on CD.^* Admitted, 20 bucks is a bit steep considering the running time, but consider it bragging rights to show off your knowledge of experimental scores.


Pictures nabbed and resized from Bongolong Land
Buy it on CD at Monsters In Motion

Special thanks to Frank (systemsofromance.blogspot.com) for introducing me to :Zoviet*France: and thus stirring the liquid brainmush and forcing up something from my past.

^*Or, you could just use the rapidshare link on Bongolong Land. Take your pick; makes no difference to me.

What happens when the mind is free to wander: Nine Inch Nails, Ghosts I-IV

Writing a review of Ghosts I-IV at this point seems a bit moot considering it’s been all over the place since March 2^nd, but I wanted to wait until I had the actual 2-disc set in my hand before voicing an opinion since (as you all know well by now) I like to figure packaging into my reviews. Plus, the added time allows for a more level-headed approach. Now that I have a physical copy, it’s time to review it, and if you don’t want to read what I have to say, go find out what’s new at Reader’s Digest or something.

Trent Reznor stated on his website that he wanted to do something like Ghosts for a very long time. My feeling is that its roots lie in “A Warm Place” from The Downward Spiral, but that’s just my gut instinct on the matter. Friends think that it may have started long before that. I have to give the man a lot of respect on the basis that he originally intended this release to be an EP; I like that mode of thinking since many artists seem to be discouraged from doing EPs these days to the point where it’s almost a dead art. However, things spiraled out of control and Ghosts became a massive double album instead. I won’t fault him for not following his initial intentions since the result is quite amazing.

While I really enjoy the album, I feel like it was being over-hyped when it was released. It’s good music, but some people were acting like it’s the single greatest artistic contribution to the human race since Neanderthals started pissing cave paintings. Stop that, goddammit! The raving fanboyisms are really f#cking annoying and leave me with the urge to kill things! (To be fair, the hype spiked and then died down rather rapidly; you escape unscathed this time, fanboys.)

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, let’s talk music. Ghosts ranges from the beautiful minimalism that pops up every now and then on Nine Inch Nails albums to the static and noise Reznor is more well known for, blending the varieties seamlessly and making for a fantastic near two-hour experience that, as Reznor stated, is meant for daydreaming. I wouldn’t recommend listening to this in the car, as you will find yourself in the middle of a field with no idea how you got there and possibly staring at a confused cow that’s chewing cud right outside your driver’s side window. Not a fate I would like to face.

What I like most about Ghosts is that it isn’t the usual aggression and wild emotions that are typically associated with the Nine Inch Nails catalogue, at least not completely anyway. In that respect, it calls to mind Still, the semi-acoustic studio album featuring alternate versions of prior released work that accompanied the deluxe edition of And All That Could Have Been, and some of the more “aquatic” tracks (I can’t think of any other way to describe them other than as though I were under water) featured on The Fragile (several of which wound up on Still). Ghosts alternates between a subdued state of introspection and an occasion moment of dissonance, quite the opposite of the typical Nine Inch Nails fare. I really enjoy when an artist takes a chance and does something that is significantly different from what they usually do, and Ghosts certainly satisfies that impulse in me, even if it feels much like an extended Still with all the lyrics taken out and the electric guitars put back in.

To be honest, after Year Zero, Reznor probably could have made an audio recording of taking a dump and remixed it a dozen times, and have the result be more pleasant than some of the atrocities on Year Zero. While that album had its frequent moments of brilliance (“In This Twilight,” for example), some tracks should have been cut outright from the listing, “The Great Destroyer,” for instance. What was good was great, and what stank had me running to the nearest copy of “Banana Phone” to get the blasted things out of my short-term memory. Thankfully, Trent has kicked the laptops and 8-bit video game sound effects to the curb (mostly) with Ghosts, much to my delight.

The CD version comes in a tri-fold digipak with a booklet featuring studio photographs. Rather nice to see what the process of making the album looked like. However, I was hoping the CD liner notes and accompanying photos would look more like the pdf that came with the download. The photographs used there were absolutely beautiful (words I never thought I’d use to describe a Nine Inch Nails album). I loved the assorted artistic photos of close-up wave crashing, lampposts in the rain, desert train tracks, and so on. They really gave a character to the album, a visual expression of the sort of emotion that was being conveyed with the music, as opposed to the sort of process photos of studio equipment that, although very good, seem static, lacking life.

Overall, I really like Ghosts, despite any implied misgivings above. The music, the package, the way it was presented, it has been an enjoyable experience from the start, with the exception of cursing while fighting to get NIN.com working right on the evening of March 2^nd (hey Trent, how’re the servers doing since last month’s meltdown?). I’d rate it in the top ten of the year, assuming nothing so mind-blowing as to make me spontaneously mess my pants out of pure joy comes out between now and the year close. It shows that Reznor is willing to get out of his usual adrenaline-fueled screaming and just try something different. It echoes prior Nine Inch Nails songs of both instrumental and lyrical varieties, but presents them in an extended fashion and with a different tone. If you’re already a fan, then chances are you already have it by now, but if you’re not a fan, then I recommend giving it a chance. Considering it’s available as a full download^* with pdf and wallpapers and other such digital extras for less than the overpriced pseudo-coffee abominations at $tarbucks, and at 10 USD (plus 6.99 USD shipping^**) for the actual CDs, I don’t want to hear “I can’t afford it” coming from anyone unless you’re at the poverty level.

In other Nine Inch Nails news, I understand that part two of Year Zero is also supposed to come out this year, so I have to confess a certain fear that Reznor will again be fiddling with computers when his strength is with actual instruments, as exemplified with Ghosts. As such, Nine Inch Nails stands the distinct chance of standing on both ends of the quality spectrum for music in 2008, if “The Great Destroyaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!” is any indication. However, I balance that fear with the news that we can look forward to more installments of Ghosts, which fills me with much glee and anticipation.

Also, just two days ago, a new single was released for free download. This track, “Discipline,” strikes me (and many people I know) as a leftover from With Teeth, but commentary from the artist himself indicates this was a one-off thing done for fun and not an indication of what he plans on releasing of album length in the near future. If anything, it’s more evidence to the power Reznor has asserted now that he’s free of label overseers and other Brooks Brothers-wearing stiff-necks. Imagine just recording something and giving it away shortly thereafter? This new method of distribution that Reznor is engaging in has much potential; I’m definitely on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what happens in the world of music now that all the rules have changed.



NIN.com, which is the only important website you need on this one.

^*There’s a free download of the first nine tracks, in case you’re still skeptical. No excuses. Seriously. None. Get to it.
^**Item of contention: shipping speed sucked for the price paid. 7 USD for shipping, and it took 5 days. It’s still not a bad total price for a double album though. This is of course irrelevant if your buy it in a store, which means you can pay anywhere between 10 and 18 USD, plus tax.

Gets stranger every year: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!

When I heard that Nick Cave was planning to take what he had done with Grinderman and apply it to The Bad Seeds for his 2008 release, I think my heart stopped out of sheer ecstasy. Grinderman swooped in last year in a blaze of testosterone and left many of us dizzy. So, I have been completely unable to keep my buttocks in my seat while waiting for Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!.

Unfortunately, I feel like Dig ,Lazarus, Dig!!! is less inspired by the experiment in balls-out garage rock of Grinderman and more influenced by the rock of the 1960s and 70s. When I put it on, I feel like Cave was more thinking he was Mick Jagger and The Bad Seeds were The Rolling Stones. It feels very much like a Stones album in tone, with a bit of vaguely Doors-like electric organs thrown in for good measure. “Hold On To Yourself” and “Midnight Man” may as well be Doors songs. “Jesus Of The Moon” stands out for sounding like the vein of music that Cave has been doing with The Bad Seeds for the past couple albums; while it’s certainly good, it doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the album. “Moonland” sounds like it was yanked out of a Dirty Harry movie. The title track sounds like it wandered in drunk off the Vegas strip. “Lie Down Here (And Be My Girl)” reminds me a bit of “Hey Ya!”

While none of this is necessarily a bad thing, it just strikes me as being something other than what was advertised. I was hoping for the wild intensity of Grinderman to shine through this album, and what I got was half an album of the Grinderman dirtiness and the other half an odd anachronism. However, the music is tight and Cave hasn’t lost his touch with lyrics. “We Call Upon The Author” is quite the work of genius, and, if you don’t think that “Albert Goes West” isn’t a prime track for driving off into the sunset (or sunrise, as per the lyrics) like some romanticized Hollywood ideal, then you seriously have to reassess your rock standards. “Night of The Lotus Eaters” echoes the sort of building-towards-a-climax that we saw in Grinderman’s “Electric Alice.” It’s certainly an album worth listening to and playing repeatedly for a week, even if it isn’t what we were sold on.

While we were also told this was going to be a reinterpretation of the tale of Lazarus, I find the various Greek mythological references to be more fascinating. Lotus eaters, “More News From Nowhere” being a larger condensed variation of The Odyssey, and so on lead me to believe that Mr. Cave was reading a bit more of Homer than the Bible while he was sitting down to put this album together. As an unrepentant literature geek, I really like the assorted literary references and personalities that make appearances throughout.

As Mr. Cave’s music is very literary in nature, I find it most helpful that it comes with a solid lyric booklet. Scratch that; not a booklet, a book. I was originally under the impression that the American release wasn’t going to come with printed lyrics, that it was going to be packaged like Grinderman was last year. Despite the fact that I loved Grinderman, I absolutely despised the fact that it was issued in such a lackluster package. One measly picture of the band inside the gatefold and no printed lyrics left me rather disappointed, and I was informed by a friend that Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! was going to be issued in America in a similar fashion. I was fully prepared weeks ago to rant about how Nick Cave hates America and wanted to deny us his words in a printed format. Thankfully, that theory has been proven wrong, since the only currently available American edition is identical to the European special edition. Perhaps this will change; the currently available American is listed as a special and limited edition, so perhaps ANTI- (the American distributor for this album) will do as was done with Tom Waits’ Orphans, i.e. special edition comes out first and then the less fantastic regular edition comes out later. In any event, I am glad that an edition featuring printed lyrics is available since Nick Cave is one of the best lyricists of our time. His work is pure poetry, and deserves to be read as much as it is listened to.

Some of you may be wondering why I quibble so often about printed lyrics. Consider this experience that is similar no doubt to one of your own: at one point, I wanted to share the Joy Division song “Interzone” with a college professor while we were studying Naked Lunch. I went on the internet, and, after some fishing around, found three completely different interpretations of the song before giving up on the idea entirely. Not providing a definitive set of lyrics opens up opportunities for such anomalies and misinterpretations and strikes me as being a terrible insult to the songwriter. Considering the literary nature of this album, I cannot praise Mute, ANTI-, and Cave himself enough for providing the lyrics in such an elegant format so as to prevent some clueless jerk from posting online what he thinks the words are.

To reiterate what I said in my Haale review, cutbacks in product quality aren’t encouraging towards purchasing the album in a physical form. While I understand piracy is cutting into the record labels profits, and independent labels feel that bite the most, making a sub-par product isn’t going to help matters. In fact, it is more likely to swing people to bootleg more often since there’s not much incentive to purchasing. With Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!, the labels involved had the good sense to create a worthwhile product that (although consuming a bit more space on the shelf) is worth owning physically as opposed to digitally.

Setting aside my soapbox, I find this to be one of the best releases of the year thus far. Peerless songwriting, catchy riffs, and the ambiance surrounding Cave and The Bad Seeds make for a damn fine album.



Their website and myspace and blah blah blah.

Hit the jackpot, baby! Quitzow, Art College

As I stated in my Setting Sun review, I feel kind of weird reviewing the work of a friend. Objectivity comes into question, slapping the album with a bad review could hurt their feelings and they never want to talk to you again, and so on. But, I am extremely fortunate since I have been presented with a pair of genuinely outstanding albums with which to work.

When I first saw Erica Quitzow play, I believe she was using an acoustic guitar. As such, I was rather surprised to hear the amount of electronics on her recorded material since I had already associated her with acoustic. No matter, since she’s damn good either way.

Art College is synth-heavy, quirky electro-trip-pop-hop-skip-something-or-other… Goddamnit I can’t describe it using conventional pigeonholing terminology; it’s just FUN. Do you know what FUN is? Art College is FUN. The addition of cello on select tracks helps to make this difficult to definitively label. To be completely honest, I don’t think I ever loved Moog synthesizers as much as I do now until after I heard Erica play them. Now I want one (I can has Voyager in Electric Blue?). Thumping beats beg for dancing. Remember my review of Accelerate, how I said, “I want to be thrilled, moved, or have the chair pulled out from under my chunky buttocks so I am forced to dance”? This fits into the first and last^* categories.

Swinging from the serious to the absurd is a talent Quitzow seems to have a monopoly on. But even when Erica is being somber in her lyrics, the instrumentation is still danceable fun. Art College begins out on a serious note with “Sponsor (It Didn’t Mean A Thing)” and the social criticism of “On TV!,” only to immediately jump to the completely silly, always standing out, good-times anthem “Peanut.” Then, the title track jumps back to a more foreboding ambiance, but with a certain hope and determination (this one is most likely my favorite). The warning “Stay Away From John” is another favorite. “Love” stands out as the quietest piece, consisting of just cello, a subdued keyboard, and voice. “Cats R People 2” is another jovial piece seamlessly sewn into much more intense songs; got to love the sampled cat meowing. “Jackpot” is an excellent closing track; we can only hope that Art College is Quitzow’s jackpot and ticket to some measure of fame.

The word that most accurately describes the album art is “pink.” Laura Pepitone is to thank for that; the cover image of some structure (a gas station maybe? I’m not sure) is stylishly applied to a canvas made of the sort of paint samples used for color matching when you’re repainting your house. The result is a grainy yet bright, dreamy, almost sand-storm like image that pairs well with the contents of the CD. I also love the little black and white pictures from assorted sources that are under the CD tray, including images of Dr. Strangelove, a close-up of Dalí’s mustache, and what I believe to be Hunter S. Thompson.

There’s something either quirkily seductive or seductively quirky about Art College. Like Children of the Wild, it’s infectiously fun with its ups-and-downs, but swinging to the opposite direction in that it’s electronic-heavy and much more intense where Children of the Wild was more acoustic-based and relaxed. Art College is floating around the moons of Jupiter, while Children of the Wild is solidly on the ground (with a few exceptions). Also of note for those that like live performances, or weren’t crazy about what they’ve heard online, Quitzow in concert is a horse of a completely different color. I highly recommend catching the show. One of the things I look forward to in the future is a live album.

I don’t think I can express it any other way: get this album. It’s simply enjoyable throughout and a worthwhile addition to your collection. This will be an album that makes its mark on the world of contemporary music, may it be a big mark. I drink to your jackpot, Erica. Raise that glass high.



Quitzow’s myspace, and Young Love Records’ myspace and website


^*Facetious remark; I don’t dance. Unless you get a lot of booze in me. I mean a LOT.

This sound can't be ignored: Setting Sun, Children of the Wild

This week’s reviews mark several firsts. One of which is that I’m reviewing two CDs long before their release date. I feel a bit more professional now. The other is that this is the first time I’ve reviewed music by friends, which I find to be a difficult position to be in since objectivity gets outright flushed into septic oblivion. However, I feel strongly that reviews are always subjective due to the biases of the individual writing the review, so, without further ado, let’s get this whirly-gig flying.

I’m trying to remember when I first met Erica Quitzow and Gary Levitt. I was most likely introduced to them by Kevin (see Swing The Heartache) somewhere in the wild, late night, open mike, pub scene of New Paltz, NY. In any event, I’m glad that I did indeed meet and become friends with these two fine musicians. They contribute to each other’s music projects in integral roles; I remember noting at certain live shows that the only differences in line-up between Setting Sun (Levitt’s project) and Quitzow (take a guess) was what position each performer was in and who was singing. Both Setting Sun’s and Quitzow’s releases for this year (Children of the Wild and Art College, respectively) are released on Young Love Records, Gary and Erica’s labor of love, and apparently devoted to music that is fun and loving (tagline to the website: “Home of the Love”).

Up first this week is Setting Sun’s Children of the Wild. I’ve been hearing “Overjoyed” and “Happy Joy” since I first saw Setting Sun play several years ago, so it’s nice to see them on this album. I’m sure I’ve heard some of these songs before at various places in and around New Paltz, but those two are the first that come to mind.

To me, Children of the Wild is a sunny afternoon or drive in the country album. The predominantly-acoustic folk/pop with occasional synths doesn’t really lend itself to the dimly lit bars that I typically see Gary and Erica and company performing in; this music is for socializing, dinner parties, good friends and good times. It is, for the most part, a fun and joyful album, upbeat without being annoyingly sweet like so much cookie-cutter indie pop that hits the shelves these days. Comparisons be damned; Setting Sun stands on its own feet.

The instrumentation on this album is what I like the most. It isn’t wildly different or trying too hard to escape definition, but at the same time, it’s a character all it’s own. When the cello and violin start, and those occasional synths kick in, the party really gets started; that’s the experimental aspect to Children of the Wild and what prevents it from being casually pigeonholed as an indie folk/rock album. My favorite tracks are “No Devil Me No More” (probably the darkest song on the album, more foreboding if anything), “How Long,” the delightfully spacey “Not Waste,” and the afore-mentioned “Overjoyed” and “Happy Joy.” “Inside My Love” is a bit of a heartbreaker in its simple beauty. Children of the Wild is a varied album; there’s a little something for everyone.

The album art is beautiful. Billy Keddy’s vaguely Suessian cover painting, with the two people holding hands under a big orange sun walking to a wobbly city, is a fantastic expression of the emotional state conveyed in the songs. Love, uncertainty, an expansive world to get lost in… it’s an accurate representation of everything this album is about.

If there is a single complaint to be made, it’s the run time of 37:03. The music is just so comfortable that you want to stay there all afternoon, and when it ends, you can’t help but start it over again. And again. And again. Expect Children of the Wild to spend a lot of time in your CD player. It’s infectious in it’s fun.

The official release date for both Children of the Wild and Quitzow’s Art College is June 10^th, so mark your calendars. I don’t know what they’re doing for distribution on these two albums, but I know that you can get them direct from the artists and, if they stay true to tradition, most likely at live shows. I cannot recommend the live performances of Setting Sun and Quitzow enough; aside from the fact that they are really talented, they are friendly people that I am glad are part of my life. They have a tour planned for this summer, so look at their sites and see if they are going to be near you. It will be worth stopping in for a show. If you're not ordering it right now, then pick up Children of the Wild when you hit up the concert.



Get thee to Setting Sun’s website and myspace!
Also, Young Love Records website and myspace

On deck for Thursday: Quitzow, Art College

Now you know Heaven: Haale, No Ceiling

My first encounter with Haale was over either NPR or WFMU during an in-studio performance and interview sometime before I had a CD player installed in my car. At the time, I made a note of what I was listening to, found the band on myspace, and added them. Following that, I casually forgot about them until about four weeks ago, when I noticed there was a full-length release scheduled to hit stores for the 18^th of March. So, I skipped over to Haale’s website, ordered the new album, and sat waiting for it to come in the mail.

That wait was extended by some gorilla at the local USPS office using my package as a Frisbee. Or maybe Homeland Insecurity decided to snag it since the artist in question is of Iranian descent and we could be durty turrists trying to spread chaos in the land of the free. Whatever the situation, it didn’t land in my hands until last Friday, after having sent courteous emails to the right people to have it sent again.

No Ceiling is the debut full-length following on the heels of a pair of EPs released in 2007, and comes off as a blend of Alternative, Psychedelic, and traditional Middle Eastern music. Band leader Haale Gafori has a thing for Sufi mystic poets: three tracks on No Ceiling feature lyrics by Rumi (sung in Persian). Two other tracks feature words by Persian writers; “Hastee” was written by Forough Farrokhzad, a famous Iranian poetess, and “Town on the Sea” features Persian lyrics by Marzie Nejad, who I can’t find much information for online. The rest of the lyrics are by Haale, and they are quite good. Couple the words with her fantastic voice and layer them over enthusiastic and powerful instrumentation and you have a recipe for one of the most pleasant albums I’ve had the joy to hear thus far this year.

Through the 43 minutes and 39 seconds between the opening of “Middle of Fire” to the end of “Town on the Sea,” the potent spiritual nature of No Ceiling boxes your ears repeatedly. But, gently. It’s a beautiful album, and I mean beautiful in a way that is hard to describe. It just… makes me feel good. Light. Not enlightened in any sense of the word but definitely facing the sunrise with a more positive outlook than I usually do. My friends can attest to my natural pessimism and tendency to reach for the weirdest, darkest music on the shelf, but, as my earlier review this week shows, there are lines that even I must draw. There are no lines to draw with this album, save those written and sung.

In some ways, No Ceiling reminds me of some of Dead Can Dance’s material. The comparison is limited, however, to the spiritual nature of both groups and maybe a bit of the trance-like sound. Something in the back of my jaded little brain keeps jumping up and down screaming that I’ve heard something like Haale’s music before and that she’s not all that original. Unfortunately, I can’t recall exactly what triggers that reaction except from choice DCD tunes, so I’m going to tell the little voice to shut up unless it can justify leveling the double-barreled shotgun named “Derivative” in Haale’s general direction.

My favorite tracks include “Middle of Fire,” “No Ceiling,” “Ay Dar Shekasteh,” and “Hastee.” “Off Duty Fortune Teller” is a bit of a bluesy folk track that stands out for being very down-to-earth among songs that take you to the Heavens; incidentally, it’s my least favorite track on the album. But even then, it’s not bad, merely not agreeable to my tastes.

While I have nothing but praise for the music, I do have one complaint about the album overall. On the website, they made it sound like the accompanying 16-page booklet “with ink drawings by Kevork Mourad, photos, lyrics, and translations” was a big deal. While I am thankful that they included this feature (Mourad’s art is the perfect complement to Haale’s music and I am thankful for being introduced to his work), I feel like calling special attention to it as a selling point is rather annoying. Now, call me an obtuse relic, but I remember an era when all albums had little booklets with lyrics and photographs and drawings of varying degrees of artistic skill, quite often far below that which is displayed within No Ceiling. In that era, saying “This CD has a booklet!” carried as much weight as saying it came in a case. I suppose my complaint is more with the record industry as a whole since it seems providing a multi-page liner booklet with lyrics is anachronistic in the eyes of the bigwigs. We’ve gotten to the point where anything included in the deal other than the disc and its case is considered a major selling point. How much does it really cost to add this little feature? It’s not like the prices have changed much when I go to the store to pick up the latest.

I can accept certain cost-cutting measures to offset losses due to digital piracy or whatever the reason is this week for poor music sales. Digipaks: fine. Cardboard sleeves: okay, its got a retro feel, like sliding a nice piece of vinyl out and admiring the play of light shining in the grooves. But when they take away the lyric sheet and cut back on most of the album art, there’s little incentive to actually buy the CD as opposed to simply bootlegging it over peer-to-peer. What’s next? If they keep cutting down on the quality of the product, we can look forward to picking up CDs sold in nothing but shrink wrap, or a folded paper envelope with nothing but the artist and album title hand-written on the outer flap by someone that is not only English illiterate, but illiterate in his native tongue as well.

I seem to have gotten sidetracked. Anyway, No Ceiling is a delightful musical experience with excellent accompanying art and is worth the expense. It’s on a limited print run, so your next step should be to go to Haale’s website and buy it should anything I said here strike you as enticing.



Haale’s website (buy the album here) and myspace page

Left a funny taste in my mouth: David E. Williams, A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying

1994 was an excellent year for music. Among the great albums released that year, we have a ridiculous pile to choose from: Let Love In, The Downward Spiral, Superunknown, Grace, Bury the Bottle With Me, and so on, any two of which qualify ‘94 as “excellent,” despite anything horrible released the same year. However, one album that most of us probably don’t remember as a charter member of the Defining Albums of The Year of Our Lord 1994 Club is David E. Williams’ A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying. Aside from the fact that it was released on a little-known independent label at a time when many talented artists and bands had been recognized by the mainstream market, there are other reasons why Williams is an artist far from being a household name.

First, let me give you a little background on my introduction to David E. Williams. It was sometime in my second year of college, maybe the Spring semester of 2002, on a sunny day when a friend and I were wandering through the campus commons building and passed by a first floor student affairs office. Sitting on the counter were several milk crates of CDs that they were giving away. The CDs were all leftovers from when OCCC had a campus radio station; since the station had been shut down for a long time, they decided to dump the CDs on whatever cheapskates wanted them. Being the cheapskate packrat that I am, I nabbed a couple obscure and completely worthless titles solely to throw the discs away and keep the jewel cases as extras in the event I broke the case on an album I actually cared about. One album, though, caught my eye, and it was titled A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying.

The first thing that struck me was the absolutely stunning stained-glass cover image, made by Judith Schaecter. The title also grabbed me; although long and wordy, it had a distinctly sarcastic yet poetic feel. Since the CDs were free, I figured I’d give it a shot.

A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying is a very 1980s-style synth-goth affair that might go over better if the lyrics weren’t a descent into the very bowels of everything distasteful in the history of mankind. Williams sings monotone of violent misogyny, incestuous gang-rape and the abortion that follows, a quadruple amputee prostitute, assorted Nazi imagery, graphic torture, and other ghastly and unpleasant things. While these are topics that can be depicted musically in a compelling manner that evokes a pretty powerful emotional response, Williams takes to the task with a deranged, almost gleeful, wit that implies the man is completely batty. Thankfully, Williams’ voice is so bland and flat and barely distinguishable from the music that you can’t make out half of what he’s saying. This is one of the rare occasions that I would have preferred the album not come with printed lyrics. Reading through them recently, I couldn’t help but feel nauseated to the point I had to drop them and leave the room. He comes off like William S. Burroughs in the event that Burroughs was outright psychotic and not writing with a pretentious surrealistic flair.

Unfortunately, the lyrics are the only aspect of this album that stand out. The music isn’t anything worth raving about, something of a cross between electro-pop and goth. Not to say that the tunes are bad, just nothing special or unique. You could probably dig around the first or second wave of goth music and turn up something with the same or similar sound and monotone dirge singing without the grotesque monstrosities coming out of the vocalist’s mouth.

Some people regard this man as an absolute genius, and to a degree, I can see how some might respect him. He isn’t afraid to unload all sorts of hideous things onto a CD and put it up for sale on unsuspecting consumers, and, to be fair, he’s not a bad lyricist. It’s his subject matter that is the primary turn-off, which leads me to believe that part of the attraction to A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying might be the juxtaposition of very electro-pop instrumentation and disturbing imagery. His myspace bio describes his work thusly:

…a lyrical humor so dark that it's not really funny. Some might call it gallows humor, but "gas chamber humor" is a bit more accurate for his love songs rife with murder, abuse and obscure references to eating.

A mostly true statement, but I wouldn’t quite call these love songs. Maybe love songs in Hell, though. The entire album is like a rattling slow-moving elevator down to Satan’s frozen lake at the 9^th level. With a droning, overly witty blood-soaked clown clothed in his own entrails hanging over your shoulder, cracking tasteless jokes the entire ride.

The only reason I hold onto this is that it’s out of print and a bit of a rarity (although having the campus radio station call letters^* written all over it may diminish its collector’s value). Maybe someday, I’ll offload it onto some poor sap on eBay, but I’d feel guilty for letting someone else allow this sort of sick trash into their music collection. But who am I kidding? The album is available as an mp3 download through SNOCAP for ten bucks, which is $9.99⁹⁹ too much if you ask me, and peer-to-peer provides just about every obscure artist you could ask for. If you are into this sort of unhinged crap, then feel free to go to his website, listen to some samples, read the lyrics, and pursue this man’s music as you see fit. Just make sure the nurses hook you back up to your thorazine drip when you’re done.



David E. Williams website and myspace, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.


^*Curiously, I acquired the CD at OCCC, but the call letters on the CD are WFNP, the campus radio station for SUNY New Paltz, the college I later transferred to. Weird.

Snarky Opinions, Issue 2: "Legacies and Paychecks"

Some time ago, I visited a friend at her college dormitory before she had to head back for the summer break. I had brought with me the latest offering from Tool for her perusal, since we were both fans. However, she couldn’t listen to more than about 10 seconds before having to skip to the next track, a process that continued for a further two songs before she abandoned the album altogether. She felt that the band was simply carrying on the same as their previous album and were failing to present any new directions or layers to their material. At the time, I was rather offended. One comment of hers that particularly infuriated me was something to the effect of, “Why didn’t they end with Lateralus and leave their legacy intact?” Now, in hindsight, I have to agree that 10,000 Days is the weakest of Tool’s albums. While I have no intention of turning this into a passive-aggressive attack on the young lady, her rather arrogant notion that the band should have quit before this release calls to mind a question music critics often ask: when should a band toss in the towel?

Short answer: when they’re dead.
Long answer: when they’re either dead, physically incapable of playing any instrument (with or without mechanical assistance), or have made enough money to retire in moderate comfort.

I’m tired of music snobs standing on a soapbox and declaring that a band should stop making music simply because some critic thinks the new releases are stale or lacking in creativity^*. Leaving behind a “legacy” to be remembered by is all fine and good, until you remember that the musicians are still breathing and probably don’t give two s***s about a “legacy” when there’s a car in the driveway that needs gas, a baby in the bedroom that needs diapers, and an empty refrigerator in the kitchen. Quite often, the listening public seems to forget that musicians have bills and rent to pay too. We have day jobs; they make music. Everyone finds a way to a paycheck, and everyone has expenses.

I remember a program many years ago, I believe on MTV News, which broke down how much money this one particular band made in a year^**. After studio fees and so on, their net pay each was only breaking into the middle-class bracket. Then, the taxman comes in as he inevitably does when Uncle Sam smells greenbacks. Translation: bands are not literally burning money to heat their homes. It’s a common perception that simply because someone is famous that they are also rich; bear in mind that being on a stage or having a CD out doesn’t always automatically come with suitcases full of thousand dollar bills (otherwise, I’d have several very rich friends that would be paying me handsomely to hand them approving reviews).

Let’s explore the issue further. First, there must be a reason someone would call into question why our band, let us refer to them as Band X, is still persisting (economic reasons on their end notwithstanding). Let’s assume that our reason is that which started this discussion: perceived creative stagnation. Assuming Band X’s members all get along, play together quite nicely, and there’s a market for what they’re releasing, there’s no reason for them to stop making music. Critics could argue that the market is a pack of dolts that don’t realize they’re being gypped by Band X and their lack of musical growth, but that doesn’t change the fact that someone, somewhere, is buying their albums.

Admitted, some of us music geeks are more discerning and won’t stand for a band that releases the same album every year. While we look at that and critique it, others smile with the knowledge that the band they know and love is still at it as they always have. They might not be breaking any new ground either stylistically or lyrically, but maybe that’s what the fans want. Maybe that’s why they keep buying the albums. Maybe they don’t want their favorite bands to change, to evolve into something other than what they have always known.

So, when should a band pull the plug? WHENEVER THEY FEEL LIKE IT. The band should be the ones to decide when the guitars/microphones/drumsticks/sides of beef are hung up, not the armchair know-it-alls. Critics should think less about “legacies” and more about, “if I am bored with this band, maybe I should seek something else out to interest me and let them do as they see fit.”

Then again, if we did that, we’d have nothing to write complaints about.

^*Behold the irony of complaining about arrogant and opinionated critics while critiquing music on a blog of all things.
^**I can’t exactly remember which band was being interviewed for the program; for some reason, I could have sworn it was Metallica, but they seem to be doing really well financially.

Yeee-HAW!: Jever Mountain Boys, Bury the Bottle With Me

For a good portion of my readers (two out of three of you), Alexander Hacke needs no introduction. For those stumbling in from the bar or another website, let me give you some background on this innovative musician. He began his music career in the early 1980s under the moniker Alexander von Borsig, and soon joined avant-garde/experimental band Einstürzende Neubauten at the age of fifteen. He has been a part of many music projects, included Sentimentale Jugend, P1/E, Sprung Aus Den Wolken, Crime & the City Solution, and numerous others. But one project that Hacke was the frontman for that even my most nerdy of obscurity-obsessed music geek friends have never mentioned is the Jever Mountain Boys.

Information on Jever Mountain Boys is scarce. Wikipedia tells me nothing other than Hacke was the frontman and the band performed country variations on some of their favorite songs. Hacke’s website states that Bury the Bottle With Me is the only official release, the album was released in 1994, and that “this band would take song-material of various origin and transform it into their unique style of country music.” Most other websites offer little unique concrete information.

Attempts to find a hard copy are even more fruitless; eBay yields no results, Amazon America stares at you like you have king crabs coming out of your nostrils, and Amazon UK and Deutschland tell you that it’s unavailable, and only the German site has a tracklisting. Neither have a picture of the cover or reviews. Even bootlegging it online proves to be a bear. I searched on peer-to-peer for over a year before I found someone that had Bury the Bottle With Me shared. That person I must commend, because they also scanned in just about everything, including both the inside and outside of the digipak and the fold-out liner notes. Thanks to those scans, I learned that the band was made up of Hacke, Jochen Arbeit, Moritz Wolpert, Roland Wolf, and Rumme Beck. Aside from Hacke, only two of those names are familiar to me: Arbeit and Wolf both joined Einstürzende Neubauten at different times, although Wolf died in a car accident shortly after joining in 1995.

As stated on Hacke’s site and his Wikipedia page, all the songs on Bury the Bottle With Me are covers from assorted artists and genres. The tracklisting is as follows:

1. “Bury the Bottle With Me” (Cochran/McCall)
2. “Skip A Rope” (Moran/Tubb)
3. “Ace of Spades” (Kilmister/Clarke/Taylor)
4. “It’s Dark (In My Heart)” (L. Hazlewood)
5. “Run for Your Life” (Lennon/McCartney)
6. “Photograph” (Chris Bailey)
7. “Yesterday Is Here” (Waits/Brennan)
8. “I’ll Die Happy” (J. C. Hendricks)
9. “Wings of A Dove” (Ferguson)
10. “If You Were A Viper” (Rosetta Howard)
11. “Wild and Blue” (J. Scott Sherill)
12. “Diamonds Don’t Mean A Thing” (Shadrick/Smith)
Phantom track: “Freebird” (A. Collins/R. v. Zant)

I’m not going to even pretend that I know where all these songs come from. However, those that I do recognize make my eyes pop to see on the same album. The Beatles, Motörhead, Tom Waits, Lynyrd Skynyrd? The variety is quite astonishing.

Now, the country western genre is a variety of music that I typically avoid at all costs. I really can’t stand most of it. But, I have to confess, a few of these cuts really grab me. “Ace of Spades” lends itself very well to the selected style; the way Jever Mountain Boys arrange this song into a Western/bluegrass style conjures up old West saloons and unshaven gunslingers. It works perfectly. While I usually take umbrage at anyone covering Tom Waits songs (probably owing to Rod Stewart’s rendition of “Downtown Train”), the Boys handle it quite well. Their version of “Yesterday Is Here” is probably one of the better covers of any Waits song I’ve heard, plus they get bonus points for reaching for the not-so-obvious song to cover. “I’ll Die Happy” is a fun track, featuring some voice-acting between Hacke and Louisa Bradshaw in the middle. Phantom track “Freebird” features some sounds of assorted improvised Neubauten-style scrap metal striking and breaking glass in the background about halfway through and continuing until the song is almost over; the liner notes only list this as “domestic percussion,” whatever the heck that means, so I really have no clue as to what they were using to achieve this effect. I don’t really care, because this is probably the only version of “Freebird” that I will ever in my life confess to liking.

Aside from that, I haven’t much to say. I don’t care for the genre, and the album is more of an oddity. But it’s an oddity dripping with character. Even though it’s for the most part not my thing, I can’t help but respect this album. Also, I have tremendous respect for artists that pursue multiple genres; by doing so, they show how many layers they have to their persona. Jumping from style to style keeps the musician fresh and unpredictable, as opposed to becoming a has-been jammed in one gutter that smells like rotting and irrelevant hit singles from decades prior (like some other musicians I can name). Unfortunately, since I can’t find any more information (in English) on Jever Mountain Boys, I can only assume they are no longer playing together and thus will most likely not be releasing any further albums. As for Bury the Bottle With Me, the Boys pursued these songs with spirit and produced an album that is thoroughly enjoyable. Actually, the more I listened, the more I found myself addicted to it. I can only recommend that you pick it up if you are lucky enough to find it and give it at least a chance. Bury the Bottle With Me is so quirky you just might learn to love it.



Alexander Hacke’s website and myspace, which each have samples from Bury the Bottle With Me