Oliver Lake, NTU: Point from which Creation Begins (side A)

NTU: Point from which Creation Begins seems a bit out of time and place. Its repetitive, groove based tracks sound in some ways like mid-'70s Marion Brown or Archie Shepp, though it was recorded in 1971 in St. Louis (it remained unreleased until 1976, by which point it was less stylistically incongruous). It has elements of early-'70s Miles Davis, especially in the electric guitar playing, and it also reminds me a bit of the Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre records on Delmark (there was a connection between the Black Artists Guild and the AACM, so this similarity makes sense). NTU sounds great too, with neither the murkiness of the '60s nor the polished sheen of the '70s, but the cover art does not look so impressive.

The Eternals, Black Museum (12" EP)

2 years after the Eternals' debut LP emphasized their pop song side, the Black Museum 12" (2002) focused primarily on a series of fractured instrumentals. The one exception is the first track—"Black Museum" is a slow, beautiful song with an aggressive breakdown in the middle. Most of the instrumentals are built around what sound like loops of hand drums, but their origins are unclear. They're less recognizably modern/techo in style than the instrumentals on the early 12"s, and they provide a foundation for a lot of the group's later work. Black Museum sounds clear and modern but never sterile or brittle, and it features the Eternals' usual cut-up imagery on the cover.

Marion Brown, Sweet Earth Flying (side A)

Perhaps the strangest thing about this album is the track list on side A, "Sweet Earth Flying" parts 1, 3, 4, and 5—what happened to part 2?! Marion Brown is at his mellowest on 1974's Sweet Earth Flying—it's still far jazzier, for lack of a better word, than Afternoon of a Georgia Fawn, with lots of organ (sometimes played by both Brown and Paul Bley). It's also surprising that only a year later, Brown leapt to the very high-energy found on Vista. The movements here set up a nice groove and sit in it, and even the poetic section works nicely. The gatefold is nice, and the cover photo is charming, but the mastering is unfortunately a bit murky.

Big Flame, Cubist Pop Manifesto (12" EP)

Cubist Pop Manifesto (1986) is a German 12" collecting tracks from a couple of English Big Flame 7"s. The sound quality is murky for a 45 RPM 12", but the energy of the performance remains contagious and the political lyrics are inspired and funny when they cut through the din. Big Flame came after the Nightingales at a point when it's really too late to think of them as post-punk, but it's probably the most logical genre to force them into. At their best, their unforgettable melodies leap out, but they're always a fun engaging listen. The bright colors on the cover are (tastefully) a bit overwhelming.

Amon Düül II, Dance of the Lemmings (side C)

I always think of Amon Düül II from their more structured and trance-y output from the mid-70s, but Dance of the Lemmings (1971) reminded me that the transition from their hippie years was more gradual. The electric instruments are here and occasionally there are bits of drone, but they're combined with a more meandering and unstructured approach than the early Amon Düül albums. Dance of the Lemmings sounds bizarre and slightly primitive, and it generally resembles little else. It comes in a crazy looking gatefold sleeve, but having sides A/D on one album and B/C on another (from the age of stacking turntables) will never fail to annoy me.

Mr. Partridge, Take Away (side A)

Andy Partridge from XTC does some vaguely dub-inspired processing of old XTC songs, and then he sings over some of them. The results are 1980's Take Away, a diverse and fascinating record. His vocals sound a lot more primitive than on the XTC records where he's more overtly the featured element. The processing is idiosyncratic and personal, with a rich sonic palette. Take Away is far less stylized than its closest peers, New Age Steppers or Basement 5 In Dub—it doesn't sound (or look, for that matter) like much else.

Comsat Angels, Sleep No More (side A)

The first Comsat Angels album was the one that I fell in love with. Sleep No More came only a year later, in 1981. If anything, the palette is a bit more refined, with a lot of lush reverb, although it was released before convenient digital technology made these sounds fashionable. The murky reverb makes the vocals seem buried though they're pretty prominent in the mix. The vocal melodies are slightly less catchy than on Waiting for a Miracle, but the songs are just as well constructed. The very top is largely missing, but it's nonetheless a great-sounding master, with the guitar and bass particularly clear. The cover art is a bit impenetrable, fascinating, and tasteful.

Hevoset (side A)

Yet another strange-sounding Finnish band that I don't know a lot about. Hevoset (2008) throws some trebly feedback sounds into the idiomatically typical mix of acoustic instruments and primitive percussion. There are no vocals here, but the tunes somehow seem to evolve in a more song-like fashion than some similar albums with vocals. The bright feedback sounds lead to a bit less murky feel and give a more open, energetic sense of space. Hevoset strikes me as one of the stronger records of its geographically isolated micro-genre, even if it's hard to articulate why. The weird and vaguely psychedelic cover drawing is interesting and appropriate, too.

The Fall, I am Kurious Oranj (side A)

1988's I am Kurious Oranj is a bit of a surprising Fall album for many reasons. One is the polished, late-80s hit-record production courtesy of Ian Broudie, who went on to have hits as the Lightning Seeds. Even the gimmicky effects that are sometimes used on the vocals blend into an overall cleanliness and efficiency in sound. This professionalism is appropriate for the more conventionally structured songs like "Kurious Oranj" and "New Big Prinz", but it seems weirdly juxtaposed with some of the messier parts of the album. These parts probably reflect the music's use as program music for a ballet, but the sequence and assembly all seem a bit out of place. The cover art with a prominent photograph of Mark E Smith is also incongruous for a Fall album. The end result is, like so many Fall albums, fascinating and perplexing all at once.

Leo Smith, Spirit Catcher (side A)

The late-70s marked a prolific and engaging era for trumpeter Leo Smith. His records at the time were often weird and impenetrable, but they're also beautiful and engaging. Spirit Catcher (1979) is pretty typical of the time. It features some of his usual collaborators from New Dalta Akhri paying his drifting and slowly evolving compositions. There's also a surprising piece with 3 harps. I can't tell if it's Rudy Van Gelder's engineering or the unidentified mastering person, but there's a weird sheen over the record that's very recognizably 70s, and I can't even discern what gear introduced it. The cover design is subdued and unmemorable.

Kuupuu, Unilintu (side A)

It's easy to focus on the more abstract soundscapes on Unilintu, but it actually contains a more diverse cross section of Jonna Karanka's output as Kuupuu. Some tracks are purely washes of sound, but others contain recognizable melodies with guitars and vocals, in a way that almost resembles a damaged folk-song. Acoustic instruments are often buried in the wash of noise, and this wash ovewhelms even in the most song-like sections. Unilintu, from 2007, collects recordings from 2002-2005, and is mastered particularly loudly. The blurry front cover photo perfectly captures the record's haze and mood.

Strapping Fieldhands, Discus (side A)

The Strapping Fieldhands may have had the most overt classic rock influence of any of the '90s nominal "lo-fi" bands. 1994's Discus has some heavy guitar parts that owe an obvious debt to the '60s, and the absurdly melodic and catchy parts are just as overtly retro. All of the lo-fi primitivism is there, but the Strapping Fieldhands definitely follow Chrome or the Tall Dwarfs far less than their nominal peers. The sound quality is charmingly rough, and the mastering is particularly uneven with little concern for EQ imbalance.

Aqsak Maboul, Un Peu de l'Ame des Bandits (side A)

Where Henry Cow used popular rock production of the '70s for their genre-crossing music, Aqsak Maboul rely on popular rock production of the '80s. The overall sound of Un Peu de l'ame des Bandits (1980) could almost be mistaken at times for a new wave record. The arrangements and compositions, though, have little to do with rock or new wave. The orchestration and interplay are derived from a more academic/classical background. If anything, it's more precise and less cacophonous than Henry Cow—in a way, perhaps, this parallels the rigid timings and structures of new wave. The packaging somehow manages to reflect the range of influences inside, too.

Pauline Oliveros, Tara's Room (CD)

Tara's Room is a 2004 CD reissue of a 1987 cassette. It contains two of Pauline's very different pieces, each about a half-hour in length. "The Beauty of Sorrow" is a slowly evolving accordion drone piece with reverb that's typical of her work. "Tara's Room" is less typical—it's a rough-sounding and murky soundscape that reminds me more of Rune Lindblad than Oliveros. Despite the unattractive cover, Tara's Room stands out among the glut of her work.

David Thomas and Two Pale Boys, Erewhon (CD)

I've been a long-time Pere Ubu fan, and I also enjoy many of David Thomas's solo records, especially when they jump farthest from his rock music background. 1996's Erewhon isn't exactly a solo record, as Two Pale Boys remained a functioning group for several albums and tours. It emphasizes Thomas's spoken-word approach, which can get lost on most Pere Ubu songs (at times it resembles "Rhapsody in Pink" from The Art of Walking). The almost-clinical production is far removed from rock music, and well executed by longtime Ubu collaborator Paul Hamann. The other two Pale Boys (I'm familiar with Andy Diagram's work from Dislocation Dance through Spaceheads) add radical textures without diverging from Thomas's references to song structure.

His Name is Alive, Stars on E.S.P. (CD)

Seemingly every His Name is Alive album is a bit impenetrable and hard to describe, and 1996's Stars on E.S.P. is certainly no exception. It contains the same song a few times, a weird Beach Boys homage, and a flagrant Phil Spector girl group lift (Warn does not like being reminded of "Bad Luck Girl"'s debt). Atmospheric textures and radical arrangement shifts rest inside of pop songs that are fairly conventionally structured, with memorable vocal melodies in the foreground. "This World is Not My Home" is one of Warn's strongest songs. The packaging, while typical of Vaughan Oliver's work at the time, looks great and really fits the music, but the mastering job is a bit murky and dated.

UT, Early Live Life (side A)

Early Live Life, from 1987, collects primitive live recordings between 1979 and 1985. While UT's albums featured delicate and abstract moments, the emphasis here is definitely more guttural—whether that's because it's a live recording or because it documents an earlier era is hard to tell in retrospect. The music is consistently intense, fragmented, and defiant—UT already had a voice like few others. While Early Live Life may not be the best introduction to the group, it's an amazing document of their evolution. Their defiance of any neat genre or convention seems to leave them largely (and sadly) overlooked.

Archie Shepp and the Full Moon Ensemble. Live in Antibes vol.2 (side A)

Shepp records from the late-'60s and early-'70s sometimes emphasize ensemble playing over any sense of his leadership. Live in Antibes vol. 2, which was recorded in 1970, is a good example of this trend. The group this time includes 3 Americans and 3 Frenchmen. Shepp's soloing is special and distinctive, and, despite the apparent emphasis on chaos over structure, he's also given a composition credit here. The most obvious voice in the ensemble sections might be the odd guitar playing of Joseph Déjean—past Sharrock he had few obvious contemporaries at the time. It's an obviously low-budget live recording, but the energy of the group manages to come through.

The Ivytree/Chris Smith, Fat Cat split 12" 33/34 (side A)

The Ivytree is the solo work of Glenn Donaldson from the Bay Area avant-folk crew known as Jewelled Antler Collective. This album-side of this 2005 split collects a bit of every style from his repertoire, and they all cross-pollinate. The folk songs emphasize soundscape over melody, with the vocals almost buried inside of the guitar, both sonically and structurally. The more abstract works hint at songs, even as the textured sounds fight with the guitars. The Chris Smith side is a radical departure, with harsh guitar drones reminiscent of Matt Bower or Metal Machine Music. The Ivy Tree side is moderate in volume with lots of treble and dynamics, while Chris Smith is thick and midrange-y. I quite appreciate the consistent packaging of the Fat Cat split 12" series that gives no clue from the cover of what is inside.

Lauhkeat Lampaat, The Most Pollo (side A)

It still seems a bit crazy to me that "Finnish folk" refers to some sort of micro-genre that isn't even really all that folky. Laukheat Lampaat somehow fit into that world, and Lau Nau (who is slightly less obscure) contributes to some of The Most Pollo. The sound sources are mostly acoustic instruments and voices, and there is more looping than heavy processing applied. The Most Pollo (2006) is a floaty, abstract, and slightly dreamy soundscape, with tracks differentiated by changes in instrumentation. It sounds primitive but never harsh, and the blurry cover photos reflect the barely-identifiable music.

Joan of Arc, The Gap (side A)

2000's The Gap is a confusing Joan of Arc record. It marks the end of their constant touring era, by which point the line-up had evolved into a very powerful live band. While all band members do contribute, The Gap gives no hints to the band's live energy and coheison, and instead presents a somewhat sprawling and disparate mess. It's surprising, then, how well it works. The songwriting is strong, and the evolution between the songs and textural pieces is natural and organic. The mastering is both too scooped and too bright, but that's a small complaint, and Paul Koob's cover images of the band as silhouettes cropping an abstract photo are engaging and memorable.

Dudu Pukwana, Diamond Express (side A)

The South African roots in Dudu Pukwana's brand of jazz already have the propulsion of rock music. While I wouldn't have chosen a (then) "modern" fusion-y production to capture his work, it at least makes some rational sense. The Wurlitzer and guitar fit really nicely, and Diamond Express is a genuinely fun listen. While it was released in 1977, Mongezi Feza's amazing presence on trumpet indicates that it must have been recorded before his unfortunate passing in 1975. The drab cover design, unfortunately, gives no hint to the energetic and powerful music inside.

Chad Stuart and Jeremy Clyde, Of Cabbages and Kings (side A)

My first association with Of Cabbages and Kings will always be my laughter when a friend first recommended it to me. It's certainly stood up to repeated listens, so now I just laugh at the dark/funny lyrics. It's not quite a psychedelic record, though the cover obviously signifies its 1968 release date. Gary Usher's production is bright and trebly in a Beatle-y way (not a modern way, thankfully). The songwriting is memorable, the arrangements are odd, and the lyrics are even odder.