Bugskull - 'Snakland' (Scratch)

For this vinyl long-player, Bugskull (now sans-umlauts, perhaps due to Canadian importation laws, as this is on Vancouver label Scratch) step it up a notch. Things sound cleaner, though not necessarily studio-quality - just with better drum mics. There are crazier layers of psychedelic excess, like frantic synths and more clarity in these excursions, relying on timbre over fuzz. The songwriting feels a bit regressed, or maybe I should say that instead of concentrating on the lyrical side hinted at on Phantasies and Senseitions, there is more development of the musical sketches there. Lyrics are present, though often repetitive chants like 'We are coming' ('From the Skies') instead of personal lyrical material. But this suits the album's overall artwork and presentation - adorned with toys and stuffed animals, Snakland feels like a record that Jeff Koons would have made. There is still a band here, though a 3-piece, and the rhythm section falls into 90s indie swing occasionally. Sean Byrne keeps it interesting with all of the layers, and the buzzing and spurting electronics often give the record the vibe of a haunted Toys R' Us. 'Mind Phaser' is perhaps Snakland's most epic track, sounding like early Mercury Rev if the wordy guy was kept in-check. I'd say this is a 'transitional' album, but that's usually a term for lazy writing. 'Bouncer' certainly points towards the electronica direction they will take, but with a significantly more clubby feel than the mild textures to follow a few albums later (I guess that's why it's called 'Bouncer'). Underneath these beats are some thick My Bloody Valentine guitar smears, like traffic in a city tunnel. Don't blink or you'll miss it. 'Exit Wound', the closing track, is long and meandering, with the wound not far from "Nurse With", if you get my drift. And drift it does, through heavily modulated darkwoods with screaming (yet largely organic) murk behind it.

Anthony Braxton - '3 Compositions of New Jazz' (Delmark)

And thus we begin the Braxton gauntlet, one that runs back-to-back with the Brinkmann gauntlet. What a stunning debut! And even when compared to the other gems of AACM sound resonance emerging around this same era (1968) -- such as Roscoe Mitchell's Sound or the early Art Ensemble stuff on the box set -- 3 Compositions of New Jazz is an incredible explosion of creativity, a new direction for music yada yada yada. But really, as someone who owns ten Anthony Braxton LPs, all of which we are going to explore in the next week or so, this is the one that really started it all and it still sounds great. Maybe we can say that this is a Braxton still exploring his own voice, because these three compositions are modular and fluid, moving from instrument to instrument with nary a pause to reflect. The Art Ensemble of Chicago are of course kindred spirits, but a difference here is a focus on composition rather than group interaction. It's hard not to think some bits of this are improvised, but the vocalisin' is so in tune with the harmonica or violin or trumpet that you know Anthony's kept the reins held tight. The band, by the way, is Braxton, Muhal Richard Abrams, Leroy Jenkins and Leo Smith, and that's about as powerful of a collection of Chicago artists as you'll get. The track titles are unrepresentable in Google Blogspot's UTF-8 limitations, but side 1's a mission statement if I've ever heard it. Jenkins and Smith lock into some dazzling contrapuntal runs, but then also Braxton comes in with a reedy, woody tone that darts around the convetions of blues and jazz to express his youth and wide eyes. Percussion is limited but oh-so-effective - a sharp click of a wooden block can just bite through everything. Side two begins with some a long piece built around duets. At times Jenkins is sawing away while Abrams is creating circular patterns up and down the piano board, and it's manic and calm at the same time. How does he do it? There's never any impulse for "all in" -- instead this while album is a collection of miniatures. Abrams is a constant throughout the side 2 piece, and when everyone else drops out it becomes an impulsive, honest vision into the misty industrial skyline. 'The Bell', composed by Leo Smith, closes things with a somewhat more attenuated sense of dissonance and drama. There's still an emphasis on open spaces and open forms, but that's kinda what we expect from this gang , right?

Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band - 'Strictly Personal' (Blue Thumb)

Strictly Personal is always a bit savaged in the record guides, claiming that Bob Krasnow ruined it with his overtly 'crazy' production. I used to think this was nonsense and that Strictly Personal was underrated, great even -- but listening now I agree that Krasnow is to blame for whatever is lacking here. This isn't so much because it's whacked out with reverb and flange (cause those parts are cool, like some dub-blues-psych hybrid) but because the production is just bad. If you listen to the first part of 'Trust Us', the drums sound like they're being played underwater (though not in a good way), and the whole performance feels like the highs and lows have been sucked out, leaving only a gross-timbred middle section. I understand that the technique of rock music production wasn't as developed in 1968 but given how many other amazing records came out at this time , I don't why they couldn't get this one right. Again, it's a shame because Don's songwriting has developed another stage in its complexity, with some proto-Trout Mask brilliance. 'Son of Mirror Man - Mere Man' is one work of genius, even despite the mismatched levels and farty bass sound. I've always wondered about that title - is 'Mere Man' the name of Mirror Man's son, or is this song about the son of someone named 'Mirror Man-Mere Man'? This song though enters a new realm of melting ice cream on the hoods of racecars - a realm opened just earlier with the bendy overlapping end of 'Trust Us'. Side two opens with 'On Tomorrow', a dark screaming song that melts into the sublime 'Beetle Bones n' Smokin' Stones', a taste of the animal-deranged vocal stylings that the good Captain later became famous for. The Mirror Man Sessions CD has the better, longer, unaffected versions of a lot of these tracks (like 'Kandy Korn') and overall is a better listen -- probably one that renders Strictly Personal obsolete -- but we'll get there on the Cinderblock tip soon enough. The good moments here are great though and it's certainly a transitional work. Though the Beefheartian vibe is true California all the way, I manage to incorrectly assign a imagistic geography that places it in some weird South that may actually be under the surface of the Earth's crust. Certainly the bluesy deconstructions are responsible for this, but they weren't consciously thinking about deconstruction when creating these records (at least I hope not!) so maybe that's why it actually rocks pretty hard.