King Crimson - 'In the Court of the Crimson King' (Atlantic)

Whoa, I still have this? And it still bears the $2.99 price tag from when I grabbed it, a distinct memory during my college years, the only decent record in an otherwise worthless store if I recall correctly. I took what's a fairly standard path through 'punk' and out the other side - King Crimson were a symbol of ridiculous bombast and awfulness to me in high school, as by that point the Belew years had turned them into a symbol of overly technical, emotionless music for intelligent white men that likely have some social problems. (Whether that's true or not, I dunno; I suspect that a reevaluation of 80s Crimson through today's ears would be significantly more positive in outlook.) Then I got into experimental music, eventually looking back toward progressive sounds from the 70s, and then Crimson is a force you have to reckon with. For me, Fripp's work with Eno came first (not so much the full collaborations but even just that hot-shit solo on 'St. Elmo's Fire'); then, the Giles, Giles and Fripp record. Eventually, I wound up hearing Larks Tongues in Aspic and admitting that, yes, King Crimson had some undeniably cool material. And this all started here, their debut, which sounds a lot more like Genesis than the percussive time signature journeys on Larks or Red. The last time I played this record, which was likely the only time, my verdict was that In The Court of the Crimson King was an uneasy mix; mid-tempo prog-pop built around flutes + epic male vocals for the most part, not bad but not earth-shattering – and then the infallible power of '21st Century Schizoid Man'. It's been covered and parodied a bunch (Unrest comes to mind but I'm sure there's others) but when I put this on on a snowy February morning in Helsinki, I had to crank it and jump around the room with glee. The rest of the record is the easier material to parody, but it's a solid entry in the genre. Greg Lake's singing is quite good, and as he ruminates on the foibles of mankind in 'Epitaph' it's rather convincing, particularly in the epic fade out, 'I fear tomorrow I'll be crying', and that's before late capitalism had really started twisting the screws as fiercely as today. 'Moonchild including The Dream and The Illusion' would be memorable enough just for the title, but the romantic, wistful lyrics are actually rather beautiful and there's a great improvised breakdown 3/4 of the way through that gets into some good call and response jib-jabs. Here, Fripp's guitar is jazzing around some spazzy (but not aggressive percussion); it suggest that they were listening to (if not outright being influenced by) European improvisation of the time, Brötzmann and the Dutch guys, etc. There's a false ending on the last track, which allows just enough pause to contemplate how idiosyncratic this album actually is. It sounds more like 2 or 3 different bands, like a compilation. Given how big King Crimson became subsequently, I know that there's hardcore fans with far deeper insights than I, who are scoffing at this writeup. But this is a personal journey through a wall of vinyl, so I can close this writeup by saying simply: 'I just like how it sounds'. Even early on in his career, Fripp was focused on getting a good recording - and anyway, the scary face on the front cover is great, and would be worthy enough to appear on a future Voivod album cover. Camper Van Chadbourne did a pretty great cover of 'I Talk To The Wind' which I prefer to the original, but maybe I'm just more familiar with it.

Joy Division - 'Unknown Pleasures' (Factory)

This is another one of those 'classics' that I'm almost embarrassed to have in the accumulation, if only because a) I rarely listen to it and b) I will certainly struggle to write original thoughts about it in 2017. Coming between the bootleg of Warsaw and the superior vision of Closer, it's interesting as a midpoint, or if you like to marvel at how far bands push themselves in a short period of time. I'm sure this is not an original observation, but Martin Hannett's production is just about everything to why this is a great record, and if you don't believe me, listen to Warsaw. I'm sure that Hannett and the band were working in synergy here, but regardless, the decision to strip out the middle of these songs, rather than filling them with crunchy guitar chords, is what makes Unknown Pleasures such a definitive turning point between punk and post. This introduction of emptiness of course amplifies the lyrical themes but it really opens up the songs and lets mood play a role, a gesture towards what is felt and not heard. Event underwritten songs like 'Candidate' gain so much from this expansion, and it still gets thick and meaty at times. 'Shadowplay' is attenuated towards a wall of sound feeling; 'New Dawn Fades' and 'Day of the Lords' are balanced, production-wise, against their baroque tendencies. It doesn't hurt that Curtis really starts to emerge as one of rock's iconic voices on this record, with the same menace as the Warsaw sound but an increased commitment to emotional delivery, meaning he's actually singing, and his 'When will it end?' is bone-chilling even if you don't consider his ultimate fate. It's a voice that is almost defiantly masculine after the 70s sounds of Bowie and glam, yet implying more than it lets on. This is still Factory rock music, made by cold men in dark warehouses, but it's inching towards a more cybernetic approach, the full-on embrace of synthesisers to come later in New Order but no doubt a concern this early on, already. Morris's drumming is more motorik, and a song like 'Insight' is far from computerised but looking at least in that direction. Synths are used more atmospherically here, swooping into the corners and occasionally roaring. There's a reason university students still walk around wearing t-shirts bearing this logo today, despite the fact that the only two songs even remotely close to being catchy/hook-based are 'Disorder' and 'She's Lost Control'. And there's a reason we still have scores of bands like Protomartyr essentially aping the sound of 'Wilderness', four decades later. 

Jefferson Airplane - 'Surrealistic Pillow' (RCA Victor)

OK, here's a bit of seemingly intentional nonconformity, but I don't think Surrealistic Pillow is all that great. Which leads to the followup question of why do I own a copy then, to which I cannot really provide an answer. This copy is beat to shit and the stereo pressing, and I love their subsequent release, but I think the record's notoriety probably stands in the way of me truly evaluating it, truly appreciating it maybe. Which is what I tried to do when it came up today, next in this project, another surprise of 'Oh do I have this still?' as happens so often here. I guess given the surreal, truly psychedelic sound of After Bathing at Baxter's I find the tepid folk-pop songs on here hard to sit through; the recording is also done in that too-echoey way that makes it sound particularly dated, the same way Moby Grape records sound to me, which is maybe just the 'psychedelic sound', at least the San Francisco variant. Speaking of Moby Grape, Skip Spence wrote 'My Best Friend', which is one of the more forgettable numbers here; it, along with 'Today' and 'How Do You Feel' steer Surrealistic Pillow far closer to sounding like a slightly amped up Mamas and Papas than the cabal of psychedelic visionaries they're supposed to be. The two towering songs here are of course 'Somebody to Love' and 'White Rabbit', and I don't know what I can really say about them that is an original take. The latter is of course a ridiculous work of music, immortalised by Hunter Thompson, and the former is, to me, merely a pretty good pop song of the era. That both of these are Grace Slick's contributions and that they have endured so much longer than anything else on Surrealistic Pillow probably indicates that having her join the band was a good idea. 'Plastic Fantastic Lover' is pretty good and 'She Has Funny Cars' is good music to play in a documentary when you're talking about the swinging sixties. Otherwise the pick of the litter for me is Jorma Kaukonen's beautiful 'Embryonic Journey', a bit of melting Vanguard/Takoma magic that works extra well before 'White Rabbit'. I know I'm being a bit hard on this because it's considered a psychedelic classic, but it hardly sounds like the Cold Sun LP. And better grooves are around the corner, for sure.

The Germs - '(GI)' (Slash)

I never understood the title of this or why the parentheses/brackets are part of it. This is an iconic record in every possible way - the sound, the artwork, the premature death of the vocalist .... yet it never jumped out at me as revolution-inspiring. I, of course, tend to gravitate towards smart-guy punk like Wire or Alternative TV, at least as a younger man. These days, the fury of the Germs is something I connect with, though maybe in a nostalgic way for some life I never led. The lyrics are of course the best part, but not included here and not always so decipherable, so the Internet is helpful here, though I tend to focus on clunkers like 'Embracing my life / between your thighs' rather than the moments that are way intelligent and poetic. Crash's words deal with (among other things) the role of the self against the emergence of technology, the existence and viscerality of the body, and power relationships between people and systems. Which is not to dismiss the rest of the band - Pat Smear is somehow still an underrated guitar player, and his lines snake and crawl around Crash's delivery, which is what Carducci would write is great rock music (and he's right!).  The Germs are a classic case of a band that remains influential for the wrong reasons, but when you watch their performance in The Decline of Western Civilization the power of this band becomes abundantly clear. The record doesn't downplay it towards new wave or pop production sensibilities like so many other records of the time, which is a credit. And they put the short fast songs on side 1 and leave the slightly longer ones for the second side, which was a pretty good move, I'd say. 'Another day, another crash' is a lyric from 'The Other Newest One', perhaps Darby's titular line, and while the backstage footage in Spheeris's film shows him to be a confused and sad kid, here he sounds the force of pure nihilism come to life. It's heavy without being metal (it's a single guitar band, after all), and the songs are as sophisticated as they can be given the self-imposed boundaries. ''We Must Bleed' is pretty fucking incredible, and leaps out of the speakers with a cutthroat monotony. Songs such as 'Communist Eyes' actually have some pop hooks buried in them - the Germs were punk, not hardcore, at least to these ears, and that's a crucial distinction. And maybe that's what remains so valuable about (GI) thirty-seven years later - the idea of punk is manifested not by his sad death (which, to be honest, is the kind of death that defines clichés) but by the force that he became when put behind a microphone, on stage, and even in the studio. 

Gang of Four - 'Entertainment!' (EMI)

Entertainment! was so iconic when I was 19 years old that I can hear it note for note in my head without actually needing to listen to it. In recent years, the disco-Marxism doesn't sound so fresh, but I have enough nostalgia for being young and inspired that I can listen to this still with some sense of joy. Another good justification for dragging these heavy vinyl versions around with me, even though I could hear any of these songs on YouTube any time I wanted too - the fidelity, on a nice clean copy as I somehow procured, is just stunning. That gravy-sounding bass thud which opens 'Ether' is so clear and resonant when the record starts, and Hugo Burnham's drums actually sound like drums here, which presages the Steve Albini era of punk/rock production techniques. Does it all feel a bit silly now, like these guys really thought they'd change the world from their major label deal? Maybe, as a decade of unearthed gems from the true "DIY" scene reveal Gang of Four to be little more than pop-oriented hitmakers. But the edgy shards of guitar which came from Andy Gill's guitar meant something to me in the late 90s, just like it meant so much to those in the north in 1979. I recently watched that Mekons documentary which goes through their early years and particularly the friendship (or at least mutual scene-sharing) they had with Gang of Four, and it's clear that even then, people knew who was going to ascend to the charts and who would toil in decades of obscurity. I'm not sure why it matters; the slash and burn of 'Natural's Not In It' still brings a smile to my face, especially when coupled with Jon King's snarl. What more needs to be said about this record? Every song is a classic, and if it can turn one more teenager towards socialist politics, then it's continuing to work after 35 years. 'Anthrax' remains one of the more sophsticated deconstructions of romance put forth in the punk era, 'Damaged Goods' is the real hit, still played nightly in British discos (at least in the late 00s), and 'I Found That Essence Rare' coined a phrase I still use. I actually saw about six minutes of a reunion show (though I can't remember if it was the original lineup or the Songs of the Free one), at the legendary Thurston Moore-curated All Tomorrow's Parties in December 2006. I was pretty burned out having been on tour myself the last five weeks, and only stuck my head in briefly when Gang of Four was playing, precisely in the middle of 'Damaged Goods'. It felt rote, lifeless and formulaic, and though I realised that less than a decade earlier I would have been over the moon about it, at that point in my life, it just felt like another reunion cash-in. This isn't fair to messrs. King, Gill, Burnham and Allen, and certainly more a reflection of my own frame of mind than anything they may have intended originally or reunion-era, but something just hit me -- the real revolution would be aesthetic, and this danceaholic armchair leftism was just another opiate. I've mellowed since, and pleased to say how great this sounds again, in 2015.

Faust (Recommended)

I got into Krautrock while a sophomore in college, circa 1998-99, and at the time I devoured all the big names (or at least what was available to me in the pre-Napster days, with a limited budget). You can read already my thoughts on Agitation Free, Cosmic Jokers, and Dzyan; but the "big names" as I saw it, probably thanks to Julian Cope's privileging of them in his book, were Can, Düül and Faust. (In my mind I always grouped Neu!, Harmonia, Ash Ra Tempel and Brainticket into a 'second tier' which is pretty stupid --Brainticket were Swiss, after all -- but, hey, we take easily presented narratives and stick with them, especially when 19). My point is that Faust seemed like one of the essentials of Krautrock and to me they were the best. The absolute best. My compass is always wavering on which of the first four Faust albums I like the best, but you can make a strong case for any of them. This one tends to get overlooked, maybe because it has the least "songy" bits, and also because it probably wasn't as big of a seller. Years later, after having dug through the NWW list and all the obscure surrealist treasures that have been unearthed through blogs and reissue labels, Faust "1" (as I like to call it) stands out as something special. The overall presentation is ace - clear cover and vinyl, mysterious lack of info, creepy/scary X-ray fist - and then three stunning tracks. I first found a CD reissue of this secondhand and played it to death, but this vinyl version (a reissue from the late 70s, I think) really makes the tones pop out. This is extremely left-field when compared to a lot of the other kozmiche music happening at the time, due to the collaged nature and odd pop/folk forms that are woven throughout - but I think it actually sounds quite distinct from a lot of the less jammy, more surreal freak music of the 70s, like Mahogany Brain or Jac Berrocal too. This is 1971, and that's notable as well, because it somehow feels like a blueprint for the 70s to come, clearly built from the psychedelic times of the 60s, but completely singular as well. There's only three cuts here, and the first side is pretty iconic, with its melting marching band and 'a wonderful wooden reason'.... but it's 'Miss Fortune' that I really love to listen to. It's a beautiful composition, even when it feels discordant, and it introduces the Faust tradition of ending the albums with genteel acoustic bits. Whenever other artists are compared to Faust, it's usually because they have a short attention span or collaged together a bunch of different styles a la Tapes. But who's out there capturing the mystery, the enigma, and the spectacle? Faust in the Internet age surely couldn't happen anyway...

Dif Juz - 'Extractions' (4AD)

This was it, really - the only proper Dif Juz record -- but a confident step forward it is, especially when compared to the EPs, which are more like sketches. The opening cut, 'Crosswinds', is built from saxophone drenched in wet reverb. It looks towards New Age music as well, but also is an early beacon towards the pop side of British electroacoustic music from later in the decade (I'm thinking O.Rang for example). 'Crosswinds' is lovely - the timbre of the saxes makes waves, a beautiful blanket of wet ear candy. This atmosphere is but a tease - the rest of Extractions is significantly more upbeat, driven by live drumming which is mostly free from the studio effects and processing which seem to affect every instrument. Yet Extractions is not an artificial chunk of computer love - it's welcoming and tries out musical ideas within the framework of this genre. 'A Starting Point' has quick-moving counterpoint; 'Silver Passage' is a quest.'Echo Wreck' feels like the major statement, with it's quick tapping drumming, soaring keyboards, and crafty melodic structure. The Cocteau Twins' vocalist makes an appearance on 'Love Insane', and her voice is a beauty; the vocal treatment sits much better with Dif Juz's music than the vocals on Vibrating Air, but it's good that most of the record stays instrumental. The tempo is somewhat uniform, and the sound is a pretty major step away from not just punk but from new wave at all. But while a lot of music like this - which later gets labeled as post-rock - becomes a bit too mellow, Dif Juz somehow stay energetic throughout. A whole lot of what I think of as the '4AD Sound' comes from music like this - this strain of (mostly British) 1980s musicians looking at texture, tension, ad soundscape instead of vitriol. The path leads though the Durutti Column and all the way to Talk Talk before the Americans started paying attention.

Crass - 'The Feeding of the 5000' (Small Wonder)

"Small Wonder" was this terrible TV show that I watched when aged in the single digits, about some girl that was actually a robot but masquerading as a suburban 9-year-old. I don't know if it took its name from the record label that released this first Crass record (is this an LP or EP? I've never been sure) but this is the famous pressing where they refused to press 'Asylum', which is an explicit, transgressive spoken word piece that I know from the CD reissue. But that was so many years ago that I forgot and was like "WTF is the first two minutes of this record silent?" I gotta say that 45 rpm suits Crass well - these songs sound great. How did these crusties achieve such a good recording quality? It's on here twice, and it's the most iconic Crass song, but seriously, did punk ever achieve a better song? I came to Crass late so I don't have this deep resonance with them; their ideas were already bouncing off my jaded ears by then, so I have to just assess the MUSIC. And I think this slays. 'Do They Owe Us a Living?' is on here twice, but then again, it's Crass's most famous song and a high water mark of the whole idiom. Listening to this, I'm transported back to many punk house kitchens, where black-clad friends had lengthy discussions about quinoa, Proctor and Gamble and In/Humanity. Crass had chops, unlike many of their followers - the rock crunch is there, the anthemic nature undeniable (yet not cheesy). 'General Bacardi' fucking slays; there's a confidence that can only come from a communal dedication to a philosophy of which the band is almost a byproduct. When listening to this, I found myself thinking I ought to grab copies of the other Crass records I don't have (which is everything except this and Stations). I came to Crass late -- late enough to appreciate, for sure, but also too late to make the life-defining bond with this music that so many others have. Is it too late? I don't fucking know, but I guess we'll see.

Buzzcocks - 'Singles Going Steady' (I.R.S.)

What a great document of the maturation of Mr. Pete Shelley as a songwriter! But it's a parallel development of A-sides and B-sides, for Singles Going Steady is consistently steady, set up along two rails. One would think the A-sides would be more enjoyable but with such fucking great B-sides, this is a winner all around. Pop music reflects the concerns of its time and in early 1978 these Mancunians were whining about dissatisfaction and self-identification. But a slew of love songs makes this more bubblegum than the dark-tinged artwork would suggest at first glance. When Steve Diggle sings (on the wonderful 'Harmony in My Head' and 'Autonomy') it's a nice bit of gruff to contrast Shelley's croon. And at the very end we hear the progress towards monotonous 80s new wave in 'Why Can't I Touch It?' and 'Something's Gone Wrong Again', with their midtempo beats and chorus pedal flourishes. But it's mostly fast and energetic, which is why kids still dance their tits off to 'What Do I Get?' today. And acts like Jay Reatard (until recently) thrived with the same basic sound, only dumbed-down. Shelley is smart, both lyrically and in songcraft. The aforementioned 'What Do I Get?' (one of four interrogative song titles here) has this little upturn harmonising the last time round the verse and chorus. It's the perfect harmony to the main melody but Shelley is singing it alone, so you have to imagine. 'Ever Fallen in Love', 'Noise Annoys' and 'Promises' are three more gems that I just want to single out for being excellent songs. This is like the best one-artist mixtape imaginable, and that's why it's a shame I often forget to listen to these Buzzcocks records. I was in a record store a few years ago and I heard a current Buzzcocks album, and I can't say it sounded bad either - consistency is a virtue that these guys have been practicing for almost 35 years now. I've never checked out Pete Shelley's minimal synth solo albums but maybe it's about time.

Albert Ayler Trio - 'Spiritual Unity' (ESP/Get Back)

Did you know that the symbol 'Y' predates recorded history and represents the rising spirit of man? You can also gleam from the back cover alone that we are entering the realm of spirits, wizards and ghosts. But this isn't some Druid-worshipping 20-sided die record, it's Spiritual Unity, notable for being the breakthrough Albert Ayler record, the first non-Esperanto release on the ESP label, and as invigorating of a statement of purpose as there ever existed in the spheres of jazz, folk, or primitive musics. I know I'm prone to hyperbole (as well as clichés) but it's not really an exaggeration to say that Albert Ayler changed music forever -- and with this record. If Albert Ayler had one tune that everyone knows it's 'Ghosts', and this is the definitive recording(s) of it. First we get the original variation at the beginning and the second variation at the end - the first is bold, brash and iconic and the second is a bit more stumbling and open. 'The Wizard' is no sloucher but it's 'Spirits' that is the real sleeper. I often get Ayler tunes confused because they all of these eerier melodies that come and go, plus they all have similar titles like 'Vibrations' and 'Spirits', etc. But when you listen to a lot of Ayler in a row, as I'm about to, it all starts to melt together into one massive floating body of work. There's still ups and downs from record to record - I mean, the trio here absolutely kills compared to the Danish dudes on My Name Is (no offense meant); however I've heard Spiritual Unity a zillion times while the weirdness on the last record I've only listened to maybe once or twice before, so I might be more likely to pull it out. In fact, I used to own an original copy of this on ESP that I found on the cheap but never listened to cause it was beat-up, instead going to this lovely 180g reissue for actual listening purposes. I have NO IDEA what happened to the ESP release; maybe it's my punishment for having two copies of something. I always say this is a record accumulation, not a collection; forgive me for straying from this philosophy. But back to the music -- there's many reasons why this record spat in the face of jazz. Murray's drumming is probably the first anyone ever heard anyone being that crazy, and that free. The beat is often just nonexistent - the pulse even flutters and skips - but it's still alive and propulsive. Gary Peacock is an unsung hero of free jazz - he is perfectly suited to play with Murray, for he's content to meander and knows exactly what to contribute. The tonal center of the music shifts continually, but still has more fucking soul than anything you ever heard on Coleman's Free Jazz or Tristano's forgotten 1940's improv dickery. And Ayler - I mean, it sounds like he's in another room sometimes, and it sounds like he's shoved the microphone up his tenor at other points. He blows like a frog's belly full of broken glass. These shards are violent but they come from him, straight in from his dirty Cleveland upbringing. This will be endlessly reissued til the end of time, until everyone owns a copy - at which point true spiritual unity will be attained.