Jason Lescalleet - 'Electronic Music' (RRRecords)

The title of this, a record that I guess now would be classified under 'early Lescalleet', is deceptively simple. For all recorded music is electronic, and there's surely meant to be a tongue-in-cheek sense of that meaningless descriptor being applied here. The electronics presented here were (I assume) designed and performed by Mr. Lescalleet, and across four tracks he shapes their possibilities into compositions that come to blossom slowly, expanding with cinematic flourishes. This is heard probably most evidently on 'Litmus Tape', the second track, which builds off the static bristles of the opening cut, but introduces a shifting, tonal echo that comes and goes, providing just enough narrative to serve as a central guiding principle. This track recalls third-album Labradford in some way, which is probably the only piece I've heard from Lescalleet that I would compare to them, or anyone else on the Kranky roster. Side two on this beautiful, marbled grey vinyl record begins with the most minimal piece, 'Accidental - Oriental'. This demands intense focus, and it's easy to let the mind wander while waiting for the slow, increasing presence of flickering square waves or whatever electronic sources make up this work. It eventually coalesces into a roar, a hell of a roar actually, one that really shows the full dynamic range of vinyl as it moves between nothing and something so fully over the course of about seven minutes. But it doesn't explode, nor does it seek a cheap soft-loud effect; it just grows and evolves, and then goes away just when I'm about to turn the volume down because the windows are about to shake. This is a hint of the pyrotechnics to come on the last track, 'Beautiful Whore', where the lurching, discordant electronics that are present in much of his other work come to the forfront. Despite the deep-listening lay down of Electronic Music, the tools and palette make him a closer fit to the 'noise' underground, and I'm not just saying that cause this is on RRR and because of the transgressive titling of that track; there's a sense of raw energy here, even though most of the record is quiet, that Lescalleet manages to turn inward and make into something different than a typical amped up banger. The cover art of this record has always greatly influenced my listening of it, and I'm nt sure why. Perhaps the porcelain plate is a good representation of the brittle, carved in fire nature of the sound here; perhaps the bespoke detailing on its rim is an echo of the careful considerations put into Electronic Music's assemblage. Or maybe it's just a nice plate that he saw somewhere and thought looked good. 

Kinks - 'Kinda Kinks' (Marble Arch)

This is the second outing from the brothers Davies, a sound which feels so 'classic' from the shimmer on the guitars all the way to the graphic design of this Canadian pressing's sleeve. Conventional wisdom usually rates the Kinks as getting really interesting around the time of Kontroversy, but there's a few gems here for sure. 'Don't Ever Change' has a syncopated vocal delivery which adds an edge to its genteel folk-rock strum; 'Nothin' in the World Can Stop Me Worrying About That Girl' is a totally classic, though I'm not sure if it was before it appeared in Rushmore. 'Tired of Waiting' is the biggest hit from here, I think, and the deceptively simple hook conveys the frustration and impatience with musical motifs to match the lyrics. One can't deny the musicianship here - these guys could really play.  'Come On Now' has a hard-boogie beat which is driving and catchy, amplified by that Shel Talmy production. Davies hasn't yet emerged as the Empire-loving nostaligia king that he would soon become, but even this early on he's able to deliver earnest material ('So Long', 'Something Better Beginning') with a believable authenticity, the echo on his voice drifting things towards the melancholy as required. Stompers like 'Got My Feet on the Ground' are less memorable, but that's okay cause they're still basking in the glow of 'You Really Got Me' here (remember how fast these records were turned out - they made like 5 albums in 1965 alone). 'Dancing in the Street' I could do without, but that's true for every version of it (except for Fred Frith's on Gravity). It's an easy record to overlook and the sound is so rooted to a time and a place that it's almost hard to take it on its own merit, but Kinda Kinks is kinda great, and certainly fun to listen to now and then.

King Crimson - 'Starless and Bible Black' (Polydor)

Where did the time go? 2018 is not looking like it will match 2017 in terms of Underbite posting productivity. Sorry about that. So, skipping ahead a few, we're into the good Crimson shit now. The lineup has almost completely changed; Greg Lake is out, John Wetton is the new vocalist, and David Cross (no, not the Mr. Show guy) takes care of the non-power trio instruments (viola/violin and keyboards). Bill Bruford is a hell of an upgrade on Michael Giles, and the overall vibe is darker, more cutting, and fierce. Even when singing about ice-cream cones and the devil, it never gets silly as progressive rock often does, and this is progressive rock to a tee. Fripp's guitar tone is sharp, metallic and buzzing, and flashy without being clichéd - he genuinely doesn't sound like any other guitar player I can think of. Even when he rips into a searing, chorus-laden lead line (such as in 'The Night Watch') it feels like it can only be compared to Fripp's other work as it attains a fluidity that I don't remember Yes, ELP, etc having in their sound. Bruford, like all good prog drummers, has clearly studied jazz, and he's an anchor who grounds everything, occasionally poking his way to the foreground but not in a 'solo' way. He's mixed up high enough to be an audible centre when the rest of the band starts to focus on circular, instrumental aggression (such as the end of 'Lament'); they show that collectively, they can just as easily shift into the sneaky improvisations hinted at towards the end of their first album. If later period King Crimson has a reputation of being joyless, they're still having fun here, and the ren-faire trappings have been shaken off. There's still a dedicated lyricist as there was from the beginning, a decision that seems almost admirable. Listening to this now, I keep thinking of the time-signature obsessed wave of indie post-rock in the 90s, following in the wake of Slint and Bitch Magnet and those types of bands. Those bands would have never had vocals like this, but many of the harder surfaces on Starless must have inspired some of them. Fripp's guitar sometimes does the two-hand tap thing, while sometimes is just like a grinding machine (listen to the opening cut, 'The Great Deceiver', for immediate evidence of that), which could be a Don Caballero texture. But there's a tendency towards pure beauty here, which is an admirable one, even if one may not feel that they attain it. Moments of Starless are utterly gorgeous, like the shimmering percussive sheen at the beginning of 'The Night Watch', the way it resolves to silence, and then segues into 'Trio', which is straight and almost neo-classical. The longer pieces on the second side struggle to hold my attentions, but this along with Larks Tongues prove to be the King Crimson records for a 'casual' fan; if only I can remember to listen to it more often.

Bert Jansch - 'Birthday Blues' (Reprise)

Promo issue with white labels and no liner notes. Skipping ahead a little bit from the last few records, we now find Jansch immersed in the Pentangle supergroup, whose extremely rewarding records we'll get to in due time, but for those curious and unfamiliar, there's a new CD box set of essentially everything available. Back here for a solo record (perhaps songs that didn't fit into Pentangle's prolific output?), Terry Cox and Danny Thompson from Pentangle join Jansch, and with Shel Talmy's production, this is an entirely different beast than the folky, traditional-leaning content that came before. It's a bit like Dylan's similar stylistic change circa Bringing It All Back Home, I'd say. Acoustic guitar still dominates, but Jansch is content to pull back from the firestorm of fingerpicking and give more space to the songs, focusing on his delivery and letting the first-rate rhythm section drive things along. As a songwriter, Jansch has a clearly expressed romanticism with a dark edge. 'A Woman Like You' is a driving, melancholy force that is followed by 'I Am Lonely', one of the record's more delicate songs; the juxtaposition of the two is Jansch in a nutshell. His voice is so convincing on both tracks, warbling with vibrato that isn't overdone. Similarly, 'Poison' grinds forward with a mean edge, Jansch striking chords or sparse riffs while the song pulses along, driven by the full band. There's the presence of flute and harmonica on a few tracks, and a big saxophone part on 'Promised Land', but it doesn't feel overproduced. This was Talmy's genius, perhaps. Folk moved into folk-rock, but these Jansch records feel slightly resistant to it, hence the jazzy presence of the Pentangle team. This is expressed most overtly on 'Blues', a 12-bar instrumental with some improvisation, but as an album closer it feels a little bit, well, off. A record with such great songs ('Tree Song' should also get a shout-out for its childlike and earnest vibe, which also utilises the full band instrumentation nicely) should conclude with a bigger statement than 'we also like blues and jazz records'. Still, it's overall finely nestled into that sweet spot where bigger, more pop-orientated production dovetails with quality songwriting and thus it feels like a step forward, not a desperate commercial reach.

Eardrum - 'Last Light' (Leaf)

Eardrum, a British duo (I assume they are British - you can just tell), put out this double LP in 1999 and  my rhythm-seeking ears were thrilled at the time. This is a work of complex assemblage, made to feel like an organic jam; I'm not sure if it belongs in the 'electronica' genre or if it's dance music or why any of that matters, but people like to classify things. The drum in the name Eardrum is key here, as this is built around percussion. This appealed to me because Eardrum avoided harsh, dance-like club beats and used acoustic recordings; the multilayered psychedelic quilt that results is invigorating, light, and functions as both deep-listening and good-time music. Polyrhythmic syncopation is just the base; the various textures are the real joy here, and they are built from howling echo effects, wispy flutes, and other accents. 'Swamp Doctor' opens up side two with a lighter pitter-patter, suggesting equatorial music, but it somehow escapes any stereotypes, even that of eclectic hybrid forms. I also like O.Rang, who I'm reminded of by this; such invigorating exotica is not everyday fare for me, but it's hard to find fault. When the beats get more rapid, as on 'Nightcrawler', it's never overwhelming; there's enough counterpoint and development over the course of each piece to keep things moving. Tension is immediately released, and when occasional digital artefacts are audible, they feel more like phase/flange effects than glitch-core. It's an achievement to make music that is clearly constructed from samples, edits and very finicky details yet still manages to feel so loose. The four sides of this go by quickly, mastered loud on 180-gram vinyl that has strangely sharp edges to it. It a melting pot, clearly sampled from worldwide sources, but darting in and out of various regions. 'From the Nucleus' starts to take on a rainforest feel, with sonorities not a million miles from Gamelan music, but doesn't commit. Perhaps this is true contemporary music, a grey-washing that aims for the middle of all metrics and somehow doesn't  feel blanched. Reading back over this post, I realise that almost every sentence asserts something about Eardrum and then gives a qualifying "but..." so maybe this balance is even evident when listening. Active balance, perhaps?

Durutti Column - 'LC' (Base)

I never became a fan of this band but this record, which I just blew a decade of dust off, is pretty intriguing. Durutti Column probably have a place among the most psychedelic side of new wave fans - they seem like the type of band to get a cult around them, though I never really got it. This is instrumental music built around ringing guitars, throbbing basslines, and thoughtful, exploratory song structures. The notes ring out with chorus effects, not oversaturated and not at all hazy. The structures are deceptively simple, and the good nature of these tunes calls to mind acts like Young Marble Giants, making great things with careful brushstrokes. When there are vocals, such as on 'Sketch for Dawn (2)', they're as cryptically buried as you'd expect; these guys are clearly too shy to lay down some confident rock caterwauls. There's some adventurous jamming, of the clean-channel fast-strum type, and while it's easy to take this as a big 'guitar' album, this is really just as much about the bassist and drummer. The keyboards are a presence as well, whether contributing to the sky or being thrust, sharp detail notes (as found on the other vocal track, 'The Missing Boy'). I think LC is one of their more well-regarded records though it's the only one I've ever listened to, and I admit that by the end, I'm quite taken by their sound. There's a subtlety to this, a quieter vein of the 1980s that I also find in bands like Tirez Tirez; the production is important, the tones are carefully chosen. This is a new type of guitar god - one that paints on gauze instead of canvas. 

Big Star - 'Radio City' (Big Beat)

I think Big Star are definitely worthy of their retrograde acclaim. #1 Record has a lot of filler but I'm a sucker for the really twee/pervy stuff like that 'Won't you let me walk you home from school' song. But Radio City I've always felt was their strongest work - I'd even give it the nod over Sister Lovers, which is awesome but some forgettable mush, too. I think it's the riffs on Radio City that get me the most - I actually find myself playing air guitar to 'O My Soul' and 'Mod Lang', whereas the #1 Record riffs feel a bit underdeveloped and Sister Lovers is too 'luuded out. This is Thin Lizzy to me, these rockers. The band really plays well as a band here, hitting the chords with the proper crunch and perfect timing. 'Life is White' is a heavy jam - there's space between the corners, and ringing voices are always nice. 'Way Out West' is totally Andy Hummel's finest moment, and things get a bit more snaky on 'You Get What You Deserve'. I hesistate to call this a perfect classic - Big Star are one of those bands whose seminal album is a mixtape of their best work -- but it's their finest moment. Chilton's snarled "I can't be / satisfied" at the beginning of 'Mod Lang' deserves to be as classic as anything Jagger ever delivered. God, the guitars just sound so fucking good here. Yeah, it wimps out a bit at the end, but oh how triumphantly? 'September Gurls' is the bubblegum classic, but then 'Mopha Too' and 'I'm In Love With a Girl' are light sketches - a precursor to the 'Night Time'/'Blue Moon'/'Take Care' trifecta at the end of Sister Lovers. This is a mid-80s repress on a British label; it's mastered well, sounding great, perhaps better than the original press on Stax.