Cabaret Voltaire, Red Mecca (side A)

Red Mecca could almost be described as gentle by Cabaret Voltaire's menacing standards. Where only a couple of years earlier it seemed that every sound was harsh and distorted, the palette on 1981's Red Mecca, while still massively destroyed and processed, is a lot more diverse. The processing feels at least vaguely approachable and not constantly demolished to a point of aggression. The compositional structures still find awkward ways to use repetition, and the results are hardly friendly. By relying on a far less distorted palette, it at least reaches a bit less deeply into the darkest parts of the psyche, without giving up the things that make Cabaret Voltaire special.

The Momes, Spiralling (side A)

Tim Hodgkinson's albums after Henry Cow can be a bit hard to keep track of, and Spiralling, from 1989, is probably the most confusing I've heard. It's the only record of his that I can think of with overt vocal melodies and song structures. It reminds of the Red Krayola or The Scene is Now more than anything I'd associate with Hodgkinson—the songs are hardly conventional or straightforward, but they're definitely songs. It was recorded with Charles Bullen from This Heat at Cold Storage, and it has a very strange sound to it that I'd loosely describe as cold. The record looks and sounds like little else I can imagine. It's decidedly well executed and purposeful—it does not feel like an aside or one-off.

Dendoshi 2 (side A)

Dendoshi 2 is confusing in many ways. It seems to be the album title, but there's no overt band name (the performers' initials do appear on the center sticker). The album involves several members of NNCK, and Web sites describe some sort of feud between them and the other band members—while one can guess that this story is true, it's not easy to discern much more. The music itself is structured like that of NNCK, with pieces that seem to drift through space despite the use of repetition. NNCK's classic rock referents are absent here, replaced instead by a strong emphasis on a folk/field recording informed palette. Dendoshi 2, from 2009, is a pretty record, but a somewhat impenetrable one, in the music contained and not just its confusing history.

Guigou Chenevier & Sophie Jausserand, A L'abri des Micro-climats (side A)

I'm a sucker for the new wave era of the European avant-prog/rock-in-opposition crowd. Guigou Chenevier is the "famous" name here, to the extent that Etron Fou can be considered "famous". Combining an electronic and heavily-process palette obviously informed by new wave with a complex compositional style informed by prog rock, A L'abri des Micro-Climats (1984) bears some similarities to the later Etron Fou records. Jausserand's beautiful vocal style, recognizably catchier melodies, and the absence of Etron Fou's aggression all result in a much friendlier result than Les Sillons de la Terre. The monochrome cover image is unrecognizable and fascinating, too.

Music for the Balinese Shadow Play (side A)

Music for the Balinese Shadow Play, while also on Nonesuch Explorer (1970), has a very different feel from David Lewiston's recordings. Where Lewiston seems to focus on more folk-like ensembles, Robert E. Brown has documented a very professional small (chamber-like) group. The playing is very precise, and the compositions are more complex. Even the recording quality is more clear and expensive sounding, unlike Lewiston's recognizable field recording sound.

Moe! Staiano/Moe!kestra!, An Inescapable Siren within Earshot Distance Thereof (CD)

I've played in several Moe!kestra!s, including a Seattle performance of Piece No. 7 (featured here), and Moe! has become a friend along the way. This 2006 CD is not easy for me to discuss objectively! Moe!'s compositions make dramatic use of dynamics and texture, and this recording is so dynamic that I couldn't hear the quiet parts over running water, or the loud parts would have deafened me (and maybe my neighbors). Despite some obvious references to rock music, it's an old-fashioned room recording drawing more from classical recording techniques. Gino Robair seems a bit underutilized on U-bolt on Piece No. 7, and I like hearing Jonathan Segel so far removed from CVB.

Pram, Telemetric Melodies (side A)

1999's Telemetric Melodies collects some singles, unreleased tracks, and unfortunate remixes of "Loose Threads" (from Sargasso Sea). I have a weird soft spot for Pram, and this album is no exception. Some of the rhythmic (dance-y?) elements seem prominent here, on the long instrumental "Space Siren" and even some of the vocal songs. The vinyl is nicely cut, apparently by Mandy Parnell at the Exchange according to the inner groove.

Michael Hurley, Long Journey (CD)

Renewed interest in Michael Hurley has gone on for so long that I have little to add to the conversation. The weird, ultra-dry/isolated (and very characteristically late-70s) mixes of Long Journey sometimes bother me, and other times I don't even notice them. It features some classic Hurley songs like "Portland Water" and "Hog of the Forsaken" that he'd re-record later (with different weird production ideas). On most recent listen, I noticed a lyrical reference to Cambridge that obviously refers to Rounder, who released Long Journey in 1976 (and reissued it on CD 22 years later).

Michael Rother, Fernwärme (side A)

Michael Rother from Neu made some pretty and tasteful solo records in the late 70s on Sky, and then Fernwärme in 1982 on Polydor, which is my favorite of the bunch. (It got reissued in 1986 in the US, with inferior mastering and packaging as Silver Streak—I learned this by accidentally buying both records, if my memory is working I think my copy of Silver Streak left for Port Chalmers). The Rother solo records are pretty odd affairs, with drums sounding syntactically modern for the times (a friend mentions Dire Straits) played by Jaki Liebzeit. Rother always has a beautiful, rich guitar sound and immaculate playing. It's sometimes surrounded by lush atmospheric sounds, and the compositions evolve carefully and beautifully.

John Coltrane, Live at Birdland (side A)

It's hard to say anything new about an canonical classic like Live at Birdland (1963). It's obviously a beautiful record, and my 70s pressing (blue-green label) sounds good. There's one spot when a sax solo ends and the mix seems to change, as if the mic was muted, but I'd need to double check to be positive.

Bee Gees, Horizontal (side A)

No matter the era of the Bee Gees that I'm discussing, subtle is not usually the first word that comes to mind. But, it somehow makes sense when discussing 1968's Horizontal. When compared with 1st or Idea, which came immediately before and after it, the songs are just a bit more delicate and, for lack of a better word, artful—even "Massachusetts" is worlds away from "In My Own Time" or "I've Gotta Get a Message to You". The arrangements are beautiful, the vocals of course sound great, and I still can't figure out how the camera isn't visible in the mirror on the cover.

Denzel & Huhn, Paraport (side A)

It seems I'm a completist for the Denzel & Huhn catalog, with 3 records in total. 2007's Paraport was the last. Where the earliest sometimes referenced techno (mostly subtly), Paraport's palette is less referential and it's tempos are slower. Denzel & Huhn still rely on repetition, with a sterile/digital sound, and they still occasionally drop sub-bass frequencies that are regonizably modern (and impressively cut into vinyl). The music, though, is less referential and more strange, if still accessible and friendly. The packaging is again impressively austere, and, to fit the music, a bit more abstract than their earlier releases.

Kuupuu, Yökehrä (side A)

Kuupuu's formula seems very familiar today, and was only somewhat less familiar when she recorded these tracks between 2002 and 2005: a solitary woman making loops of vocals, percussion, and folk instruments, and documenting them with murky, lo-fi recordings. While Yökehrä does not transcend this micro-genre, it definitely ranks among the strongest entries. The LP release from 2006 collects tracks that had already been released on cassette and CD-R, and it features a crazy, beautiful cover photo.

Moondog, Sax Pax for a Sax (CD)

Somehow this 1994 CD gets overlooked despite the incessant interest in Moondog. Sax Pax for a Sax is obviously neither his best nor his strangest work, but it's still weird and enjoyable. Mostly instrumental with some odd "chorus" style vocals, it does (as the title implies) emphasize a lot of saxophone arrangements. The melodies are rooted in standards in some ways, and in Moondog's distinctive voice and vision in others. It's crazy that Danny Thompson and Peter Hammill show up, but not so cool that the cover art is so uninteresting.

Bügsküll, Phantasies and Senseitions (CD)

Phantasies and Senseitions somehow summarizes my memories of indie music in 1995 while still managing to sound coherent. It's got lo-fi to spare, with hints of both math-rock and post-rock buried in there. Some of the songs are catchy, other parts are atmospheric hazes. It's obviously more a studio construction than a document of a band, which seems to help to keep it coherent. The most obvious downside is that it's too long at 50+ minutes. The cartoon cover is both germane for the content and slightly unflattering at the same time.

Minamo, .kgs (CD)

The extroversion of .kgs always surprises me. When I saw Minamo in New York around this time (2002), I remember their relying more heavily on subtle sounds, and not having the long melodic sections on .kgs. The later CD that I have (2005's Shining), while somewhat extroverted for an ambient album, is still not nearly as hummable and overtly "played" as .kgs. It's a weird album, but definitely not my favorite from Minamo. The front cover photo of feet is certainly perplexing as well.

Joan of Arc, Live in Muenster, 2003 (CD)

Tim and the Joan of Arc crew are old friends, and I've always noted that their live shows sound completely different from records that are constructed as the songwriting is in progress. Live in Muenster, 2003 captures a lot of the "hits" from this era. It's probably not my favorite live line-up, and maybe not even this line-up's best show, but it gives a pretty good sense of the energy of JoA as a live band.

Christy & Emily, Superstition (CD)

It takes years to listen to a record that I tracked and relax and enjoy it, maybe even longer when someone else mixed the album. Christy & Emily finally released Superstition last fall (2009), and it's been long enough since I worked on the album that I feel a nice distance to just enjoy it. The singing, songwriting, and playing is all expressive and powerful, and (to my very biased ears) Superstition captures what makes them special. Nice handmade packaging looks great, too.

Art Ensemble of Chicago, Kabalaba (side A)

While it was not released until 1978, Kabalaba documents a concert from 1974. It's roughly contemporaneous with Fanfare for the Warriors, and, like that album includes Muhal Richard Abrams on piano. It's a continuous, diverse piece that reflects the full dynamic range of the group. The quiet parts are a lot more extroverted than, for example, People in Sorrow, and this makes sense because extreme introversion is harder to create in a concert setting. The loud parts are a great document of the Art Ensemble at their most full-bore. 28 minute sides aren't great for fidelity, though the primitive concert recording probably already lost the extreme frequencies. The packaging is cool, with a classic AACM Afrocentric painting on the front and beautiful black & white photos of the musicians on the back.

Muziki wa Kialsili (side A)

Muziki wa Kiasili is a 1974 collection of Kenyan folk music on a label from Nairobi. It's pretty diverse, ranging from sparse vocal songs to an amazing abstract percussion piece that almost reminds me of the Art Ensemble. The diversity, somewhat arbitrary sequence, and primitive but competent recordings all remind me of the Nonesuch Explorer series. The packaging is a full-color gatefold with beautiful pictures, but it's mastered a bit less professionally, with a super-quiet cut.

Grachan Moncur III, Echoes of Prayer (side A)

Some of Grachan Moncur's canonical Blue Note albums from the 60s tend toward introspection, but by 1975's Echoes of Prayer, he captured a much higher-energy approach. Moncur's version of the Jazz Composer's Orchestra, which varied from release to release, was notable for an African percussion group called the Tanawa Dance Ensemble, whose playing gives a constant sense of propulsion to the piece, frequently obscuring one of my favorite drummers, Beaver Harris. There are overt "jazz" solos and melodies that jump between instruments with careful compositional skill. Echoes of Prayer is both serious and playful, and a very rewarding listen.

The Fall, The Frenz Experiment (side A)

Plenty has been written about the Fall, so it's hard to add much insight about 1988's The Frenz Experiment. It's crazily midrange-y for a record made at a fancy studio, and the mixes rely far too much on fast VCA compression (especially on the drums and vocals). When Grant Showbiz gets involved, Mark E's vocals pick up a nice overdriven quality, and some creative use of drum machines occasionally pops out. The front cover is weird and distinctive, the back cover is a less good idea.