Kiila - 'Tuota Tuota' (Fonal)

Being in the K's, we're going to get a lot of Finnish stuff since that's the most common consonant in their alphabet. Actually, as I write this, I think this is the last Finnish record we'll encounter. But it comes close after the Kemialliset Ystävät LP, which a few members of Kiila appear on. Tuota Tuota doesn't sound much like KY though, or even much like Heartcore, the first Kiila CD which we'll get to if the CDs ever catch up with the LPs (not likely). While that CD is a more sketch-based set of songs with ambient overtones, the turn towards folk/traditional-influenced material is heavy here. Pekko Käppi is part of the band, and main songwriter Niko-Matti Ahti favours pastoral imagery (at least from what I can make out - my Finnish ain't so great); when the two of them sing together, or at least I think it's the two of them, it has a great, rough hewn to it. Not gruff, but not gentle, a bit scratchy around the edges, and that's when Kiila is at their best. There's a delicate approach to acoustics, with guitars and bowed strings forming much of the basis of the songs; the electric instrumentation includes bass guitar and keyboards, but they're always in balance with the more organic side. This is quite a jammy band, and that's the beauty; the lengthy 'Portaissa' which closes the first half ends in a cacophony of little noises and shaken bits, like a wave that crashes onto a shore and then leaves slowly evaporating foam. A female vocalist, I think Laura Naukkarinen (Lau Nau) takes charge of 'Niin Kuin Puut', and the pattern starts over - a delicate folky piece to start the side, and then more fleshed out jams as it progresses. 'Kehotuslaulu' ('invitation song', roughly) has a real hoedown feel, as whatever instrument Käppi bows attains a hillbilly twang; Jaakko Tolvi's drumming is always solid and the rave-up moments are truly festive, even a bit silly. 'Uhka, Uhka, Uhka' takes on the darkest tone; affected electric guitar and dense organ drones pull this closer to good 70s prog and away from the Finnport Convention approach that their more recent material has taken on. It's recorded in a really up-front way, like a bunch of musicians jamming in a studio and with the atmosphere set entirely by the arrangements, rather than any sort of clever roomsound or creative mic placement. It also reminds me of some of Nico's work (as in Christa Päffgen Nico, not Niko-Matti Ahti whose work it already is); in general, I'd say Kiila's aesthetic is actually kinda Krautrock influenced, as the best jammy parts can shift from medieval organs and tinkling bells to a monstrous, infectious bass-driven groove. But they are tasteful enough not to overdo it, and the closing cut (an instrumental) teases that it's going to be an 'everything but the kitchen sink' mess before tightening up around a focused theme. 

Idea Fire Company - 'Stranded' (Swill Radio)

The anti-natural manifesto is not anti-human in any sense, and I'm struck by the physical effects of listening to multiple Idea Fire Company records in a row. Stranded bears little resemblance to the Roxy Music classic, but also takes a great step forward from what the duo of Karla Borecky and Scott Foust exhibited on Anti-Natural. Here, the group has expanded to a quartet, though that doesn't alter the clarity of their vision one bit. I find that the different tracks affect me in different ways, physically, here; there is a breathing ebb and flow that generally is present in every piece, but it moves from placid and contemplative ('Heroes') to edgy and nervous ('Wünderwäffen', 'Artificial'). Foust is entirely relegated to radio and tape duties here and his preparations are masterful, particularly the murmuring voices buried beneath 'Stranded II's music-box melody. Where a lesser musician or sound artist might gravitate towards sentimental nostalgia with such material, IFCO eschews any such reading and infuses a cold isolation, using the radio to conjure mysteries that do not reflect on culture's reading of the future from the past, like so much music called 'hauntology' today. The voices on 'Heroes' are shockingly beautiful, rotating in an echo of a dream; here's where more traditional musical aesthetics are dabbled with, and it's extremely rewarding. 

Hevoset (Dekorder)

Two similarly named denizens of the Finnish early-00s tape underground made this collaborative tape, and Dekorder saw fit to reissue it on vinyl. Jan and Jani (from Kemialliset Ystävät and Uton, respectively) have similar approaches to sound, especially in how they make it, being solo artists who assemble crazy surreal soundscapes from tapes, loops, acoustic instruments and primitive electronics. I was reading an essay over the weekend which pointed out that the phrase 'lo-fi' is misleading, because fidelity refers to the ability of the recording to accurately reflect the actual sound, so therefore extremely overproduced studio albums by Queen or whatever are actually lo-fi, since they sound nothing like what those Queen songs sounded like when the band played in a room. This makes me realise that the Hevoset LP (as well as many, many others from the avant/tape underground) are actually extremely hi-fi music. I never saw Hevoset live, but I've seen Tomotonttu and Uton a few times and I know that what you hear is what you get. Perhaps 'tape-fi' is a better term, as this LP sounds like a cassette tape being played. The untitled tracks move from a variety of moods but it's always pretty thick, even when there's more spacious elements. The opening cut of side two is exactly that - tentative acoustic strings pinging around over a rumbling, narcotic drone, pulsing around a vacuous middle. Here the details are all there is, the central narrative is lost, and it's almost conventionally spooky, absent of the more gonzo elements I usually associated with Anderzen's work. Halfway through side 1 there's some crazy percussive bongos thumping around, a caterwaul vocal straining to get out through it all, and actually a good deal of space there as well. But then other tracks are screaming miasmas of affected keyboard tones, or maybe they are guitars or maybe neither; it's the Birchville Cat Motel school of soundscaping, though rough around the edges. The sound of the tape machine itself is often present, the same motor wheelgrind heard behind early 'bi-fi' (see, there's another one) recordings from the early 90s but here placed into an experimental soundnik scenario. I've always loved Jan's sense of motion and Jani's approach to texture; they combine beautifully on a track about midway through the second side where a melodic string figure is stumbling around a melting synth melody; they dart around each other and never quite converge.

Harangue (Wilder Pryor/Enamel)

I have always loved the verb 'harangue' and it's delightful to find a band taking their name, and from my hometown as well! This was released a few years after I left town and I don't know any of the band members, but the bigger surprise is this sound - a real departure from Pittsburgh's usual emphasis on heavy rock riffs and volume. Though Harangue is loud, exploding with a somewhat raw recording that has an edge of fuzz on everything, which is to say the vocals, drums, piano and electric guitar. But what's different about it is the style of songwriting - five long songs, built around a very stylised singing style and the interplay of the piano and the guitar. The vocalist sings in a way that is nearly yelping, but still tuneful and focused. The closest comparison would be the Canadian band Frog Eyes, who I like a lot but have no records by; Harangue's vocalist has the same slightly crazed sonority and affect, and I could even say I hear a little bit of Jello Biafra in here too. It all really gels; opening cut 'Wisteria' is like knives in the darkness, and the speedy jam at the end of 'Brittle, Empty Mornig' shows what a tight musical unit they are. When cymbals start crashing it definitely gets messy and feels like you're in a basement with a determined group of young men; there are atmospheric guitar scrapes in places (the spacious bits, like 'Whitewashed Wall') and instead of solos or instrumental interludes, it feels like the whole band works together trying to take the songs into different directions. They get long - 'Uniformly Chaotic' is positively epic in scope - but it never feels samey or repetitive. Yet after the record ends, there's still a ringing in my ears. It seems like they've disappeared already, leaving only this, a limited local release and who knows what they went on to be. 

Can - 'Moonshake' (Cherry Red)

I thought this was an odd release when I stumbled across it - a 12", 45prm single for 'Moonshake' released a decade too late. And on Cherry Red records! But this makes sense - it's an early 80's label, very much 'of its time', looking back to an influence on its own sound. A bit of retro fun, recast in moody 80s low-lighting. And it works -- and 45rpm never hurts for great bass resonance. As mentioned before, my copy of Future Days disappeared somehow, so this is my sole way to hear 'Moonshake' on vinyl until a new copy arrives. I forgot all of the business happening between the notes here - it's such a busy track, with Can really trying to cram as much into a fairly low-key, repetitive groove as possible. In some ways it's as forward thinking as 'Aumgn', but just expressed within the song instead of around it. But the real reason I treasure this single is 'Turtles Have Short Legs', the greatest Can non-album track. This is Damo spazzing out with a bit of anthropomorphic nonsense over a silly, stupid piano riff. It has to be a holdover from the Malcolm Mooney days, but maybe not; the only thing I really know about it is that 'Parappa the Rapper' stole the backing music and stuck it in a playstation game, one of the more head-scratching wtfs ever. But it's a great, silly song, and Damo sorta sings 'regs' instead of 'legs' which is such a great great stereotype, captured in vinyl forever (and at 45rpm!). On the AA side, 'One More Night' sounds as great as always, a window into an endless maze of its own architecture. It says on the sleeve that Epic Soundtracks helped "compile" this, though picking 3 songs isn't really hard work. Thanks, Cherry Red!

Kate Bush - 'Hounds of Love' (EMI)

It's 1985 and while the charts are packed with a-ha, Live Aid, Madonna and Whitney Houston, Kate Bush put out Hounds of Love and subversively managed to slip an insane vision into the record shelves of many middle-Britons. We all know Hounds of Love, being the first side of the LP, with 4 out of 5 smash hits there. But it's The Ninth Wave, the subtitled B-side where Bush stretches out and works some magic. But they're the yin and the yang, together making a monster that forever cemented her place in history (and were her famous last words, in a way). So should we dissect it? I enjoy both halves equally, because it's hard not to jump and sing along with 'Hounds of Love' and 'The Big Sky', and of course my arty proclivities love the flipside. Despite the blip of 'Mother Stands for Comfort', side A is just unfuckwithable. 'Running up that Hill (A Deal with God)' is Teutonic, scary, and thunderous; it's beautifully painted with digital synthesiser chiaroscuro, as is much of the record. The production techniques began on The Dreaming take on a more focused, pop-orientated approach here, but it's no sell-out. 'Hounds of Love' begins with the whispered 'Its in the trees... it's coming!" and it helps construct a strange Gothic/neo-romantic (but miles from the New Romantic Morrissey-shit) vision with tinges of horror film influence, or maybe just Dark Shadows. And then 'Cloudbursting' would just sound so heavy if you converted that monotonous riff to distorted electric guitars and had Deep Purple or someone play it. There's female sexual energy baked in the grooves here but I don't fetishise this record at all -- it's almost like it takes the so-called reinvention of pop sexuality by mainstream stars like Madonna and outdoes it, but without even trying. And then we flip it, and hear the familiar piano plinkles, but this is 'And Dream of Sheep', not 'Wuthering Heights'. I do have a soft spot for all songs that begin with words like 'and', 'of', 'for' -- they feel unfinished, or more like moments captured. Here, the swelling dramatic melodies are perfectly carried by her singing and I wonder what percentage of British music-purchasers ever listened to this half more than once? "The Ninth Wave" is a wonderous suite, flowing together like one complete piece and I think conceptually linked by the theme of communication breakdown. There's certainly enough language here -- and the spoken parts in 'Waking the Witch' make me think of role-playing games and fantasy geeks. But the lyrics are fluid, escaping, and did I mention that 'Watching you Without Me' has one of the most beautiful key changes in popular music? It's a subtle shift/lift-off that elevates the song to a higher plane, etc. etc. 'Jig of Life' could have probably been swapped with 'Mother Stands for Comfort' to make side 1 a flawless wall of upbeat pop, but I guess balance was a consideration. The funny thing about my relationship with this record is that I only got into it a few years ago; since I grew up in the US, the only Bush of my adolescence was that shitty alterna-grunge band (the political dynasty notwithstanding). My flatmate at the time did grow up listening to Hounds of Love and he turned me onto it, so many nights were passed with this playing in the kitchen. It felt almost weird and retro to spend 2007 rocking out to a 22-year old pop album that is easily found in any charity shop, but it hit me and felt like a nice refreshing answer to the smorgasboard of half-written song-orientated muck oozing from the so-called 'underground'. And even better was finding the VHS collection of her videos -- I like to imagine that Donald Sutherland really is her father!

Band Apart (Crammed Discs)

I don't know much about this band but I bet there's some interesting connection to someone more well-known. Though on a Belgian label, the come from NYC and have that moody, early 80's dance vibe to them (the credits date this as early 1983). 'Jaguar' begins with some off-timed guitar jangle, and the beat comes in suggesting we're in Pylon territory. But 'Jaguar' has a much darker, more melting atmosphere. The vocals are gasped and dramatic, but pulled back in the mix. Everything has a dubby layer of goop overtop and you can tell this band made the most of their time in the studio. It's a brilliant track and a totally worthy leadoff for this 4 song, 45rpm 12" - the kind that should show up in hipster club nights today and bum the kids out. 'Strainer' is a more plodding tune that takes awhile to get going and ends very, very abrupty - like they simply ran out of tape -- but while underway, its a good induction into Band Apart's paramilitary force. The B-side has two more: 'Eve Ryonne' has stars in its eyes and the beat is cranked to the forefront with relentless precision. It is the EP's most "New Wave" moment (beyond the Godard reference in their band name) but there's still some evidence of weird electronic processing in-between the lines. 'Le Mont des des Olives' doubles it's article, perhaps a French-speaking gesture for their Brusselian label. This is the big finale, a churning, accelerating wall of sound that deconstructs 'Baba O'Reilly' through the lens of 'All World Cowboy Romance'. Some jellyfish synths float up into the ether until it's a dreamy, ecstatic potage. A minor forgotten masterpiece of a track? Two absolute winners and two decent stopgaps are why this will always have a place on my shelf. So what else did they produce?

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.

Avey Tare, Panda Bear and Geologist - 'Hollindagain' (Saint Ives)

This live album must be taken from a soundboard recording or something because it sounds clear and crisp, with nary a hint of an audience's presence. Actually half of it comes from a radio station jam on WFMU which would explain that - way to read the liner notes *before* writing. Side 1 starts off with a chocolate milkshake, flanged and affected beyond any element of clarity, slowly coming to life and breaking off it's shackles. A repeating digital delay pulse develops that doesn't leave us for most of the first side of the record, giving the voices, toy buzzers and other misapplied percussion a dartboard to aim towards. This Deaken-less trio reveals a bit more of their hands in the 'raw' setting than future Scott Colburn productions will allow. Instead of the lush, warm sound that we've become accustomed to, it has a rainy-day sound of close-mic'd metal. I'm not clear where 'Forest Gospel' actually begins and ends, as it sounds like it's split over the two sides, but this casual feel is what's nice about this release- DIY! DIY! Years later this started selling for hundreds of dollars on eBay, making me consider selling it many times, but I'm glad I held on. I don't reach for this (or anything by these guys, really) anymore and if I did it would probably be Danse Manatee, but it's nice to peer under the tarpaulin a bit.

Art Ensemble of Chicago - 'Live in Paris' (Get Back)

Wikipedia incorrectly reports that Don Moye plays on this, which is an easy guess to make since this came out in '74, but the recording is from '69 in pre-Famoudou Paris; I'll stand by the liner notes. But more confusing is the essay in the gatefold, which is from the late 70s so it refers to events that haven't happened yet when this music was being made. Also I should note that my cover is slightly different than this as the word "Live" is actually in grey, and it says "Live in Paris" and the Affinity logo isn't in the bottom right. A beautiful black gatefold with four black sides of great black music - about 100 minutes of it! The first record is "Oh Strange", supposedly a Jarman/Bowie tune though it sounds like a group improvisation if I've ever heard one. It's long and sprawling and it changes a lot but has some absolutely jaw-dropping moments of groupthump. At one point near the end of the second side the band shifts into a detuned, strummy banjo-led bit but instead of referencing some American folk music or country lineage, it's a warped abstracted soundworld. If you told me it was some cassette from the corners of the American underground avant/noise scene of maybe 3, 4 years ago, I would have no reason to doubt you. This prescience is evident at all points of the piece but it sounds most 'current' here; clearly, the rest of the world is still catching up to these guys. The second LP is "Bon Voyage", penned by Bowie, which explodes with a drumset-led freeform freakout. I assume the drums are being played by Malachi Favors though we also hear bass and marimba or vibes or something pulsing underneath. Whoever's doing it is a madman, exploding in little shouts with a rampant nervousness that drives the horns to accelerate towards the sun. Bowie is seriously one of the most expressive trumpet players ever, even if he's just shooting flutters to the winds - they feel so human, and so warm, that they bring a dynamic basis to the colder moments. When it finally starts to settle down we get a really melodic, repetetive trance and then special guest Fontella Bass, aka Mrs. Lester Bowie, chants with the rest of 'em. This record really sounds 'live'; great fidelity, but you can hear the room and feel the energy of the audience (Ils ont été perplexe, non?). I don't mind the fadeouts at the ends of sides 1 and 3 either - it's almost necessary to have a breather in the middle of these dense pillars. Listened to chronologically (by recording date, not release) it's a nice release after all the carefully calculated space on the last couple of records. Some might decry that they've moved into a more traditional free jazz area here, but there's still so much depth and sensitivity in their playing that's more like they moved free jazz into their area.