The Weird Weeds, Help Me Name Melody (side A)

The Weird Weeds' musicianship and singing are remarkable—even as they've grown slightly heavier with 2010's Help Me Name Melody, the band's greatest strength remains their ability to leave space in their very controlled playing.  The references of the Art Bears and Low remain, even as they've added distortion and heavy drumming in places.  There's also now an upright bass, which ranges from simple pulsing to arco bowing.  Help Me Name Melody adds untitled, repetitive instrumentals alongside songs that more resemble the Weird Weeds's earlier material.  The recording sounds like a low-budget imitation of Steve Albini—the spaciousness, which fits the music well, is coupled with more compression and less airy high-end.  The distasteful album cover, which meshes somewhat ironically with the music, is printed beautifully on reverse stock, and it also appears on the packaging for the bonus CD of the same material that accompanies the album.
 

Gamelan Semar Pugulingan (side A)

1972's Gamelan Semar Pegulingan translates this style to "Gamelan of the love god'.  In Western culture, love songs are associated with ballads, but this gamelan has a much higher energy than the Javanese court gamelan captured on some other albums.  It's not as chaotic as the ketjak, but the tempos are consistently fast, with energy and drive.  The music is all instrumental, which I prefer to the gamelan with vocal melodies.  The recording is clean and impressive for a field recording, but the metallic instruments feel a bit harsh and I'd like to hear a bit more low end.  The back cover of my late-70s copy uses a badly-matched font to identify Nonesuch's updated address.

Califone, Quicksand/Cradlesnakes (side A)

2003's Quicksand/Cradlesnakes fully establishes Califone's mature sound as a departure from Tim and Ben's earlier work with Red Red Meat—it's also their first album to involve Jim Becker and Joe Adamik, who have since become full-time members.  The hints of rock music in the structures, while still present, have moved far into the background, with the music hewing much more closely to the poetic structures of Tim's abstract lyrics.  The line between percussive and melodic sounds has become fully blurred, with the entire arrangements appearing to have been built around Ben's distinctive approach to his kit.  The songs are great and beautiful, and the interstitial instrumentals add flow and cohesion.  The bright and recognizably modern sound somehow succeeds at creating a distinctive listening experience without feeling distracting.  The packaging has a lot of attention to detail, with a reverse-stock cover and printed inner-sleeve. 

New Dalta Ahkri, Reflectativity (side A)

While Leo Smith is credited with scoring the improvisations (and he also has a producer credit), his name does not appear as a leader on 1975's Reflectativity—it's credited to New Dalta Ahkri as an ensemble.  The group here consists of Smith along with Anthony Davis on piano and Wes Brown on bass and Ghanaian flute.  The pieces often involve a foreground instrument playing for an extended time in a fixed style with sparse accompaniment.  The ensemble sections between these solo-like periods are short and subdued.  The music is slight to a point where it nearly disappears, even as the playing itself is busy and full of detail.  The sparse silhouette line drawing barely reveals the shape of the players, much like the music, and the 70s font accompanies it perfectly.  The sound quality is good for a mid-70s live recording, though the bass sound captures too much mid-range and lacks low end.

Archie Shepp, Blasé (side A)

Blasé foreshadows Shepp's populist soul/gospel-tinged albums of the 70s more often than it resembles his chaotic energy jazz works that were contemporaneous with it.  Where Jeanne Lee often seemed out of place in her appearances on free-blowing records, Shepp uses her perfectly here—she sings melodies over mostly repeated grooves.  Chicago Beau and Julio Finn, who overwhelmed some records, fit nicely into the background here, and Philly Joe Jones shows his versatility in veering from swing to explosion to texture.  After Ellington's "Sophisticated Lady", Blasé ends with heavy wailing on the closer "Touareg".  The front and back cover photos are great, and my original pressing sounds surprisingly good.

Grachan Moncur III, Aco Dei de Madrugada (side A)

Moncur's quartet on this album includes two Brazilians, so it's not surprising that side A consists of two traditional Brazilian tracks.  There is even a short vocal stretch by pianist Fernando Martins at the beginning of the title-track.  1970's Aco Dei de Madrugada is low-key and pleasant, with melodic solos over a pulsing rhythm section.  Moncur's playing is predictably great, and the album is a fun listen, but the arrangements may be the least ambitious during his career as leader.  He's barely recognizable in the front cover image, and the mistranslation of the title to "Waked up" is amusing.

Mantronix, The Album (side A)

Mantronix coupled underground hip-hop with electro on 1985's distinctive The Album.  The bass has impact to spare, thanks in part to the simple arrangements.  Kurtis Mantronik's vocals sound great, and the lyrics are well-crafted.  Vocoders, sampling delays, and '80s drum machines were obviously state-of-the-art at the time, and while the dated technology can feel charming, memorable songs like "Fresh is the Word", "Bassline", and "Needle to the Groove" have aged gracefully.  Beck, of course, has given Mantronix pop-culture cachet by appropriating "two turntables and a microphone" from "Needle to the Groove".  The iconic cover emphasizes the idea of stripped-down simplicity.