Tag: bedroom

TRACK | jack petrone – pavement

5/5 golden merles

jack petrone’s track “pavement” does a lot with deceptively a little. The two chords pendular migration of the verse spans the width of the world, though its description could be of any given city or town. With the immense quality of the fine inky texture of overlapping noise you may lose a little coherence within that resonant hum, but only in the best possible shoegaze/alt manner of seeping and flooding. It’s a nice place to be, this gently discordant soundscape.

What appeals to me most is the near constant elaborations and punctuations of choral noise, guitar, and synth which offer carefully designated counterweights to the warmth and steady haze. These attributes reify the song as place, concretize the foundations, populate the landscape with monuments and working ruins.

trash is everywhere / dog shit on the ground /… thousand pounds of dirt and glass / falls in unison

Like any good visitation the stopover is abbreviated. There’s still plenty of time before the mires novelty diminishes and envelopes under less agreeable terms; somewhere safely situated around the two minute mark in this case.

The distinction of that melodic and tonal enchantment in contrast to the stark grit of the imagery makes it a rich and compelling piece. Investigate further and/or pay what you will on the bandcamp. Compare and contrast with Delaby, Takhedmit, & Giboury’s strange and excellent micro-short “Clavel Gris.”


TRACK | variety – Plover

5/5 golden merles

Variety’s “Plover” is Texan avantpop rock composed of compelling narrative subversion, sticky melody and tone. The hook is a compacted material derived from descriptions of naturalistic imagery, the conflict of the domesticated and undomesticated in comparison to the authors interpersonal dilemmas. It’s thoughtful and pretty dang fun.

I need my streams and mountains tempered by the grim specter of death. Gluck and Johnson, Bly and Ruefle. Some human fingerprints on the felled log, beach towels on the bog, a figure ever-present on the vista to trample and insist.

Whereas at the end of “Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota” Wright pulls it all back home, a new frame, fitted, variety’s entry point with “Plover” is immediate. But it functions in a similar way. The relationship is described then promptly the tangent turns away, meanders off skyward, the footnote consuming the page. And then another. Relative to the original focus, the elaborated metaphor informs the initial concern, compounding all the more weight.

Two of the greatest modern scouts of imaginative rock have already signed off on the making, Groschi and Doyle. If you’re not already following them, what are you doing here?

The singles are combining into an album to be released in November: bandcamp / name your price.

TRACK | Casual Technicians – Dark Matter Falling

5/5 golden merles

America’s heart is effectively vestigial, the body running on delusion alone. But every now and again it beats, startling and amusing us.

Folk rock, alt country, freak folk, anti-folk; whatever dendritic subgenre Casual Technician’s “Dark Matter Falling” roughly fits into beyond Rock, these are things that exist in a state of defiance to the grotesque bulk of another definition. Please remember that the heart is also an outlier in relation to the other organs and would be considered an outcast among them.

We don’t need to retread that in the general appraisal Folk lacks self awareness and Country‘s sick bravado and sweetness makes me want to peacefully disassociate into an eternal coma, god willing, at the expense of my demonic private insurers.

But on the periphery and in the shadowy wasteland of upstate New York there exists at least one aggregated cabal of Portlanders intent on redeeming noise and structuring it in a manner that makes people feel whole and not diminished. If you’re familiar with Townes, Csehak, Von Schleicher, and Van Gaalen (North American, at least), it’s a bit like these things.

A large part of it’s glory is the celebration of real collaboration, unions of narration and melodic intentions merging. The contrasts and collisions are all of similar quality and keep it from congealing.

Otherwise it’s just experiment and invention informed by history but not beholden to it, offered up thoughtfully without conceding an opulent melodic core, conducted with utmost conviction and replete with distinct language. Maybe it seems easy when put like that, but it isn’t.

There are two super strong singles already up. Cassette via Repeating Cloud on 11/15/24. Digital on the bandcamp for $7.

TRACK | Alas de Liona – Violet

5/5 golden merles

Art more than anything I know allows for the contorting of bad fate to good. A negative occurrence, through studied observation and documentation, can be subverted from a collapsed, crushing roofbeam into a fundamental pillar of support, so long as you don’t give the last word to god or coincidence or whatever. The universe tends toward entropy, but we are the arbiter of whether or not it succeeds.

Alas de Liona’s excellent indie pop track “Violet” reminds me of this sardonic repartee regarding nightmares: “Don’t worry. You were just having a bad dream. Heavily influenced by your nightmarish life.”

The lyricism present is rigorously bound to the melody but doesn’t suffer from it: “Victorious,” “Curious” (in the sense of unusual/of interest), “lamplight,” and the dream-based staircase ascent all hold a kind of balance between minimalism and tactically elaborated grandeur.

The non-lexical ligatures/ligaments give binding and body to what would otherwise be more ephemeral, negative space. It can also act as a symbolic representation of the quasi-coherent language of the dream, if you like. In either case, it’s a really fine melodic and semi-percussive foundation for the work, and a rewarding, chimeric balance of design and function.

There are several points in the production in which an abrupt fade or swell emerges, synth & orchestral, and that variance is well designed to distinguish segments amidst the steady delivering of the melodic spell. That intermittent puncture adds depth to the form that might otherwise go unnoticed or implied but invisible. It is not employed enough in most other production in the name of uniformity, cohesion, or some such vile and compromised thinking.

Lu Xun wrote that “Hope is like a road in the country; there was never a road, but when many people walk on it, the road comes into existence.” The cataloging of the event makes a map and the map becomes a shared experience. The map makes walking in the woods a joy instead of certain death.

It’s a strong track of lofty hooks, offering commiseration and mapping out subconscious space you didn’t know you shared. I am morally obligated not to link to spotify, but please see the soundcloud above, youtube video, or follow on bandcamp for more.

TRACK | Busted Head Racket – Poor no more

5/5 golden merles

Garage Synth / Egg Punk. Newcastle, Australia. I will never in my life make something that sounds this good. Yet the merciless and merciful aspects of our brains are broken in similar if not effectively identical ways with respect to consumption ideals. What can be salvaged from a poisoned music culture and made good again?

We can’t let the bastards entirely have melody. We can’t allow them to curse and butcher the synth that sings, or only allow play for profit. I can’t make what the band has made. I like to hear it. Busted Head Racket are thriving in the new fresh hell.

As far as simulacra that mimic the moment go, it is a course correction. It’s a good interpretation. There’s an adequate amount of noise and degradation applied that substitutes for where it is otherwise extracted in daily, unavoidable consumption. The filth is placed back on the scale, countering the kitsch that sits like a lead balloon upon the other side.

The discordance is like a filter that allows you to see what lingers around you and at all times but is otherwise invisible; They Live sunglasses or Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe quietly mapping all the background radiation. It is encouraging to see. It helps us navigate the world.

What niche allows for such a thing to emerge and inhabit a space and not be smothered or obliterated? I don’t know, there’s not enough, you should probably support it if you are able. Name your price on the band’s bandcamp. Buy the Vinyl on Erste Theke Tontraeger.

TRACK | O.R.F. – wie schön

5/5 golden merles

What can be learned from this? Its direct and graceful descent. Its puncture and pulse. The relaxed raving of the narrations, the chosen selection of attributes as illustrative pastiche. The contents holding enough detail to endear as a sort of half stripped down, functional ruin. And the adequate melodic curvature to facilitate an ease of entry into the canal. Why does it work within the genre when so much else seems to flail about helplessly or sicken or combust when exposed to oxygen?

Probably for some to succeed others have to fail, and en mass; some sad blighted aspect of human perception and consumption: if too many find a balance they become unremarkable and we sharpen the point at which the balancing is possible. And whatever gets caught on that spear is called progress or best of the year, the reward of which is to be impaled and left atrophying in the sun. Also, it’s a nice pop tune and fun!

The track responds to a feeling, irreverence and care balanced out in one coherent, self-contained, 83 seconds of media. It tolerates enough elements of the antithesis to overcome intellectual opposition through instinct. Or maybe it curtails instinct sufficiently in order to compose a pleasing and compatible story.  It is the same game as always. But this is a good attempt. According to me, a man who can just about afford to pay for webhosting.

Either you’ve heard this song 20,000 times before or you’ve never heard it. The limits are in place: lung capacity, coincident rhyming forms of language, melodic coherence processing tolerance, range of audible tone and transmittable frequency, mass production, and a hundred other great filters of pop music. Eventually the plaque of nostalgia will harden entirely around your heart. You can use this as a test to see if the barricade is complete or if some gaps remain for admission. $0 on the bandcamp.



COMP | Palestine Solidarity Compilation

5/5 golden merles

The Palestine Solidarity Compilation is one of the most stacked comps of the era and for the cause eating at the conscience of the world. Just look at the list for many favorites of this portal: Billiam, Busted Head Racket, Rude Television, Cool Sorcery, Gee Tee, Cherry Cheeks, and the many and the more, 27 tracks of playful and cursed invention. Further good news, all the included songs are unreleased, demos, covers, or live versions, so you may become a craprock completionist and cleans some small portion of your soul in the process.

Highlights for me are Balaclava‘s “Swimming Up Up Up,” a devocore/egg punk blinder, collapsing with great intention and some real fun melodic subversion in the latter stages. And Moshi Moshi and the Moist Boys‘ “Pitchforks and Torches,” which operates primarily by gallantly gliding its synthpunk guts across the soundscape. There are many new names to investigate here, many I had not come into contact with previously, and this is a welcome introduction amidst much good company.

Give if you’ve got and can afford to. There is thrashing, there is jangle, there is wallop, and all going toward the cause of providing a tiny bit of support for those who continue to face dehumanization and death daily.

Please see the bandcamp description of the album for how to buy (…it isn’t $1,000). Make a donation and then email them directly for a code. Tapes from Idiotapes (EU) and Godless American (US).

TRACK | Sandy Pylos – La Modelo De Mis Fantasias

5/5 golden merles

Sandy Pylos is the psych/power pop project of Portland-based Paraguayan multi-instrumentalist Ana Belén. It is bedroom synthpop undeniably stacked with invention and melodic charm. Eschewing all manner of kitsch that plagues the genre, Belén allows wonder and devotion to manifest in a genuinely thoughtful and compelling account, all delivered to you inside a series of superb hooks. “La Modelo De Mis Fantasias” is the lead single off of the debut album, Notas de Voz. It is what pop music can sometimes be at it’s best: experimental, cunning & heartfelt.

There are aspects to the lyric and phrasing that are similar to the routes Dig Nitty or The Cowboys might take: language singularly formed, freshly dispatching the burden of invention, defiantly in search of the feeling but actively allergic to established routes. These turns and extrapolations tweak the universal and better reinforce the narrative, offering the listener the opportunity of discovering new paths between two points of familiar earth. The question is put to us by proxy: “Have you ever even been on a giant slide?”

In “La Modelo De Mis Fantasias” the chorus is given the right amount of time to wind its recursive variants: first as anthemic refrain, then reappearing within a field recorded rendition of writing or reciting, finally, later, among other elements, it emerges in a distinctly stripped-down acoustic version that ushers in the end. The duplication reaffirms the sentiment. Its inclusion seems to offer a glimpse of love expressed at other angles, the melody fluctuating with time and suiting evolving exterior circumstance. Arrangements morph, time passes, but the obsessive dedication nonetheless remains transfixed, an ever-present undercurrent and preoccupation. Witnessing that reification is as fun as it is compelling and enriching.

There’s plenty to admire in the works constituent parts, harmonizations and percussive fills. But simply dissecting the organs and putting them back together would miss the point. Whereas most creatives infatuated with 60s/psych rock might offer earnest but antiseptic covers and fine enough tributes, the great power and grace of this EP is reinterpreting particular methods in the pursuit of impact. It is assured and realized, utilizing what still works and subverting the rest. It is the difference between mimicry and mastery.

It is good when so very many things are not. Tapes are $8.00, mp3s/wav $5.

TRACK | The Uptights – Jasper

5/5 golden merles

Oslo’s The Uptights have created in “Jasper” a multifaceted fuck-you of a tune, some real fun experimental lo-fi post-punk. Early hooks are hung on a static howling, doused in reverb and abandoned in sequence. From this admirable mire three distinct subsections are carved and then collapsed at the emergence of each newly favored form. It is resolute in relation to what it is not, competently corrupted. The contrasting components of this set provide by their shared presence a murky but welcome depth of field, one that is surprisingly vast and inviting.

Within this arrangement the track seems to feed off of itself in a complex and closed system. It is pleasant to witness. By populating the relative void of the medium in this way we are able to see and define something more clearly than if it were otherwise an isolated instance or series of tracks. Instead of fostering some post-punk hack medley, the negative space envelops the substances, rematerializing them afterward in new forms, glowing, growing and exhibiting signs of life. The movement and misdirection creates a admirable gap in which other imagined aspects are allowed to flourish.

If you’re a fan of Flegel you will be familiar with the feeling derived from expert arrangements. It’s the same in any medium, but this is a good example.

By the allotment of elements you’ve been intentionally given something to recognize in relation to one another: a sense of scale and speed, relative motion in focus instead of a blur, a foundational frame of reference that allows for orientation. That is something music can but often does not offer: a signpost in a sea of dark, a diminishing of alienation for the observer. Maybe a couple of metaphors need to be tacked together to get at the scope of it, but that’s the general idea.

I don’t think most writers even know to want it. This type of articulation is often discounted or crudely overelaborated to the point of the grandiose and the monstrous and it all collapses, some limitation of consciousness or patience usually inhibits their ideal manner of consumption. The texture and tone has to be right to be of a compelling type to even tolerate the transference. Counted off and casually scuttled, as here, you don’t need some minutia fixated vulgarity, at just under three minutes the graceful brevity achieves a similar end and doesn’t rot out under your gaze in the process.

I was dreaming arrives October 27th. The cost is 99 NOK for the cassette or 30 for the digital (~$3).

TRACK | Being Dead – Muriel’s Big Day Off

5/5 golden merles

The Being Dead duo put out one of my very favorite albums of last year, Zero Percent APR’s Higher and Higher Forever. They consistently identify and deliver strange causes for celebration in a homogenized period of concentrated wealth and rights restrictions that desperately needs them. The whimsy and wrath is what is warranted, having fun in hell, and holding court on the ineffable indelible shit. Artpop can be good and have a big heart.

A couple of real go getters. Weird but with good cause. Good movements. Melodies as intricate and warbling as the sentiments, complexities that interlock amusingly but always cater first to the feeling of the thing. You, too, could be telling stories in content and form. Probably not this good, but you can do it as evidenced by this thing existing, it’s proof.

There’s plenty taken from convention, the shared language and lineage of pop and anti-folk that makes the work approachable. But every track is also subverted with such care and conviction, ensuring that each effort/song finds a path that leads somewhere new and rewarding. Please just read Szarkowski on the thicket for a brief and compelling summary of this manner of work:

“When Lee Friedlander made the photograph reproduced here he was playing a kind of game. The game is of undetermined social utility and might on the surface seem almost frivolous. The rules of the game are so tentative that they are automatically (though subtly) amended each time the game is successfully played. The chief arbiter of the game is Tradition, which records in a haphazard fashion the results of all previous games, in order to make sure that no play that won before will be allowed to win again. The point of the game is to know, love, and serve sight, and the basic strategic problem is to find a new kind of clarity within the prickly thickets of unordered sensation. When one match is successfully completed, the player can move on to a new prickly thicket.”

Slack is anticipated, and the line is cut before it tangles or tied into a bow. Examples are the emphatic lull in phrasing, setting up the spelling of Muriel with a long pause that adds additional equivocating “like this:” or the ‘TV Time’ bridge that reads like a medley-merger and the verses recounting of an immediate return to the shoe store.

All of this can be coopted and killed. And will be, but for now it isn’t and that is good. Discs, tapes, records, digital, all available here, and releasing the 14th of July.