The Byrds, Fifth Dimension (side A)

It's always hard to even comment about such canonical records as 1966's Fifth Dimension. The panning is so illogically extreme in the mixes on my stereo pressing that it makes me want a mono copy. While the music hints at psychedelia, it definitely does not call for such exaggerated mixes. I'd forgotten that Van Dyke Parks appears on the title track. I also really like the photo of the console meters on the back cover. Jim McGuinn's guitar playing is of course particularly special here.

Gunter Hampel, The 8th of July 1969 (side A)

The 8th of July 1969 is a pretty typical, and generally strong, late-60s free-blowing affair. It features a mix of Europeans (Hampel, Breuker, Gorter) and Americans (Braxton, McCall, Jeanne Lee) wailing through compositions credited to Hampel (though they're often hard to distinguish from free playing). Given the talent on the album, the playing is consistently great and interesting. I generally have problems with vocals on free albums from this era, and Lee's vocals here rate at least above average for the genre. The players of different backgrounds mesh pretty seamlessly. Perhaps the biggest surprise is when Hampel makes interesting contributions on bass clarinet, an instrument which I'd never associated him with. The sound quality is at least better than many comparable recordings of late-60s free sessions.

The Scene Is Now, Total Jive (side A)

1987's Total Jive is another one where I'm biased—I recently mixed a couple of songs for The Scene Is Now. It's an evenly divided album. About half of the songs, and the band seems to have constructed a more commercial "set" for this purpose, were recorded in a professional studio. The sound quality is generally clean, though the snare is too loud here and Chris Nelson's vocal EQ is not quite right. Among these, the opener "Bank" is a clear highlight, with funny and pointed lyrics, out-of-control trombone, and careful craftsmanship. The remaining half of the album collects home recordings that reflect a more gradual evolution from TSIN's debut album of two years earlier. The haphazard alternation in the sequence, and inconsistent mastering on the vinyl original, sometimes leads to a confusing flow. Many of the tracks are great, and Total Jive stands as an impressive follow-up to 1985's classic Burn All Your Records.

Go Hirano, Distance (side A)

I first discovered Japanese experimental musician Go Hirano from his later works, and came back to his 1993 debut Distance after having heard them. While those two albums are understated and beautiful, Distance presents a harsher listening experience. It's full of scratchy sounds, often high frequencies. I have a hard time discerning if the harshness came with the sounds' creation, or stems from having recorded with a cheap cassette deck and possibly its built-in mic (I'm guessing the technology based on the sound of the album). Even with the more aggressive palette, the pieces here already feature both his very slowly-evolving approach to structure and his monochrome approach to palette for each distinct piece (the palettes vary a lot between tracks here). The cover photos are beautiful, but the stark font does not match the photos or the content.

Joseph Jarman & Anthony Braxton, Together Alone (side A)

1974's Together Alone finds Braxton and Jarman at their most impenetrable. Sounds appear and fly past each other, without a recognizable structure or pattern. It's neither pointillistic nor particularly dense, just a flood of steady motion. There are brief dense builds that include crazed vocals and leap out noticeably from the rest of the album. The playing seems great, to the extent that it can be measured in such a piece, and the result does produce a strange sense of beauty. The overtly Afrocentric album cover (which was unfortunately abandoned for the CD reissue) is a powerful image and design.

Paul Kantner/Jefferson Starship, Blows Against the Empire (side A)

The closest comparison I can think of to 1970's Blows Against the Empire is the recent reissues of Bobb Trimble's albums. It's comparably diverse, ranging from somewhat introverted folk to heavy and almost glam-like sections. While the overtly political lyrics on such a record might unfortunately be perceived as dated, it otherwise could be fashionable if rediscovered. The likely obstacle to such a renaissance, it seems, is Kantner's having transformed "Jefferson Starship" from his eccentric solo album into a duller hit-making rock band. The psychedelic cover art (apart from the weird silver leaf inside of the gatefold) and booklet reflect the album's era more than it matches the odd contents.

T. Rex, The Slider (side A)

1972's The Slider is obviously a canonical rock record that seems like one I know well. I found a few surprises on my most recent listen. Perhaps the biggest one was the discovery that Ringo Starr took the iconic cover photos. I was also amazed that, despite appearing tough and "rockin'", The Slider has a lot of soft qualities. The strings and horns are prominent, the guitars are often acoustic and rather thin, and the drumming is typically sparse and not very propulsive (despite the huge kick drum). Marc Bolan's lyrics are particularly suggestive here, which might contribute to the album's tough posturing. I find The Slider as much a perplexing record as the famous one I expected to hear.

Etron Fou Leloublan, Face Aux Elements Dechaines (side A)

1985's Face Aux Elements Dechaines marks the end of Etron Fou's 10 years of record-making. All of their albums hint at rock music, but this one actually sounds, at some level, like rock music. They're a trio playing structured songs, focusing on organ/bass/drums, and singing over them. The recording also overtly references the rock and new wave sounds of 1985. At the same time, Face Aux Elements Dechaines could not be further from a rock album. The vocal melodies don't reference any rock tradition and definitely do not resolve. The rhythms are jagged and jarring, even as they provide emotionally accessible flow. The cover art fits the album perfectly—it's unclear whether it's meant to be disturbing or approachable.

The First After Epiphany (side A)

1987's The First After Epiphany is not only consistent but even surprisingly uniform for a label sampler. The biggest obvious influence here was early Gang of Four (fortunately, the sampler seems to de-emphasize the tracks on the Ron Johnson label that sound like late-era Gang of Four). Other references that poke out include the Birthday Party, the Nightingales, and maybe even A Certain Ratio. Overall, the sampler is low on surprises, but it includes tracks from many of the best post-punk of its era, including The Ex, who've outlasted most of the bands of the era, and Stump, who went on to have a minor MTV hit. It sounds surprisingly good for a sampler on a small label, and the cover image is striking and weird (likely weirder than the music contained on the LP).

Labradford, Scenic Recovery (10" EP)

1996's "Scenic Recovery" 10" features a song from Labradford's third (self-titled) album and an unreleased B-side. Perhaps the oddest thing about "Underwood 5ive" is the credit of a drummer, though his presence does not drastically affect the group's style. A current band working in a style similar to this would likely have a recognizably digital recording style, where this EP is notably murky and almost exaggerates the analog recording qualities. Labradford's passing indie rock references, which were hard to notice when the record was new, seem more prominent now. The cover, while it too seems to have aged a bit, still looks great. I was fond of this era of Labradford when these records were new, and they still sound really distinctive and original today.

George Coleman, Bongoe Joe (side A)

It's not clear to me how Bongo Joe got released, on a fairly serious folk/blues label, in the first place in 1969. George Coleman bangs on empty oil drums and other metal, whistles, and sings. The lyrics are funny and self-effacing, and the songs do have some sort of structure. There's not a lot of melody or propulsion, and the sound borders on field-recording. What does make sense is that it got reissued in 2008—primitivisim is fashionable now, and it could even appeal to those seeking irony. Comparisons to Tom Waits and Moondog are not far off, and the cover photo of Coleman is great.

Six Finger Satellite, Clone Theory (12" EP)

1996's Clone Theory was meant as a companion piece to the excellent Paranormalized LP. It emphasized the group's more abstract side, as the (vaguely) more accessible rock songs were routed to the album. Clone Theory reminds me a bit of early Cabaret Voltaire—in some places melody and structure are emphasized, while others focus more on dark electronic concepts. "Ich Weil Nacht" (I think they meant "will", for want, not "weil" for because) falls somewhere in the middle, with mistranslated German lyrics poking out from the din. The propulsive rock drumming gives an anchor, both structurally and in emotional content, and it results in a vaguely more accessible record than some of its antecedents. While Paranormalized has a fascinating and stylized cover, Clone Theory looks far more primitive. Apart from a slightly bright frequency balance, it does sound clean and good, more conventionally "good" than 1995's powerful Severe Exposure.

The Dream Syndicate, The Dream Syndicate (12" EP)

1982's The Dream Syndicate EP is a bit more primitive than the group's legendary full-length that followed it, The Days of Wine and Roses. The coarse guitar sounds and uneven mixes (the kick drum might be oppressively loud, or inaudible) seem more like charms than flaws. The songwriting is already remarkable, the musicianship is too, and the group's classic dynamic builds really come through. The cover is nowhere near as striking as The Days of Wine and Roses, but it features a funny image where Kendra Smith looks very fashion-conscious and Steve Wynn definitely does not!

The John Coltrane Quartet, Plays (side A)

It's hard to write much new about the John Coltrane Quartet. Released between the obvious classics A Love Supreme and Ascension, 1965's Plays obviously lacks the innovation or impact of either, and thus sometimes can be overlooked. The album features the classic Quartet at its prime, playing beautiful and lyrical versions of four standards. It's a tasteful and very friendly listen, reflecting the group's majesty through subtle, rather than bold strokes. The recording is typical Van Gelder simplicity, and the cover images are incredibly beautiful (even if the text obscures too much of them).

Archie Shepp, Yasmina, a Black Woman (side A)

1969's Yasmina, a Black Woman is somewhat atypical for Shepp's albums of its era. Side A is the long title track, with layers of percussion and a large band of Shepp's usual chaotic collaborators. The surprising member of the ensemble is Philly Joe Jones, who was known for his work in an earlier era of jazz. His contributions become especially notable on side B, with two shorter pieces performed by a stripped-down quartet. This group, while still very "out" (even Jones's playing, in many ways), references more ideas from the avant-jazz of a few years earlier. Both sides are great and memorable, despite the rough recording (the thick vinyl and thoughtful mastering of the 2001 pressing does help, at least a little bit).

Guided by Voices, Vampire on Titus (side A)

1993's Vampire on Titus strikes me as the most confusing album from GBV's canonical era. It has the fewest catchy songs, and even some of those, like "Dusted" and "Marchers in Orange" appeared in friendlier versions on a 7". The original CD release (paired with Propeller) sounds far worse than the vinyl that appeared at the same time. Vampire on Titus nonetheless holds up remarkably well—the Chrome-like murk makes it special. The diminution of visceral impact and memorable melody draws attention to just how strange the group's albums could be. Unlike the CD, the original vinyl captures the primitive recordings nicely, and the simple cover is iconic and appropriate.

The Nightingales, Pigs on Purpose (side A)

When I first heard 1982's Pigs on Purpose, the obvious Gang of Four influences struck me: deadpan vocals, blunt recording techniques (though these are far more primitive than Entertainment!), and impressively frenetic drumming. Having seen several concerts, the band's current incarnation has drawn my attention to the band's roots-y elements, which are present but less manifest on this album. Robert Lloyd's polemic lyrics are impressive, and the obviously cheap recording exaggerates the group's punk roots. The simplistic collage on the cover matches the album perfectly.

Van Dyke Parks, Discover America (side A)

1972's Discover America ranks among the most perplexing records I own. While many of the songs are beautiful, they're often stylized to the point of absurdity, with Caribbean and show-tunes influences jumping out at random. The string arrangements are both beautiful and distracting, as they are carefully crafted to contribute majesty and at the same time to violate the song structures. And while the strings are conventionally recorded, some of the backing vocals can jump out illogically. The lyrics can be incomprehensible, most of all the memorable "G Man Hoover". Van Dyke Parks's fashion sense in the back cover photo might even be stranger than this album, with huge plastic glasses, a wide-brim hat, and a carefully-styled mustache.

Kak, Kak (side A)

It's not surprising that 1969's Kak is a heavy rock album—the band's frontman Gary Yoder would later join Blue Cheer. Unfortunately the album's engineering, while certainly competent, seems to contain the impact of the drums and guitars, rather than letting the chaos shine through. While there were technical limitations at the time, its impact pales when compared to the work Bruce Botnick and Paul Haeny were doing at Elektra with groups like Love and the Doors. The album itself often shines, especially "Everything's Changing". Yoder's vocal prowess rarely matches his remarkable guitar playing, and the mixes don't flatter his limited vocal palette. While my late-90s vinyl copy appears to be an official reissue (no bootleg would use such an ugly/modern Epic logo on the center sticker), the mastering of low-frequencies is particularly uneven and the packaging looks particularly cheap.

Brute Force, I, Brute Force, Confections of Love (side A)

Another caveat here—I've done some work on an unfinished Brute Force LP that I'm hoping will be released someday. 1967's I, Brute Force, Confections of Love is a truly odd album. The songwriting is very well-crafted, and the arrangements from John Simon and Pat Williams are classy and professional. Brute's bluntly comedic lyrics do not neatly reconcile with the well-crafted music. His simple vocal delivery, while proficient (and perhaps ahead-of-its-time) in a way that would match perfectly with many indie-rock albums, also does not align with the incredibly traditional craftsmanship around it. The resulting album is often confusing, sometimes beautiful, and of course frequently very funny. Its sequence is surprisingly bottom-heavy, with the more memorable songs like "Tapeworm of Love" and "Brute's Party" far back in side B. The cover picture of Brute, in a dapper outfit and holding flowers, is also funny and memorable.

Comus, First Utterance (bonus 12" EP)

1970's First Utterance is somewhat legendary among folk-psych collectors for its strangeness. The album title, cover art, and most of all lyrics (which are printed on the liner notes of my reissue copy) all rate high in absurdity. What's remarkable, when going back and listening, is that the music is no weirder than any of their contemporaries'. It's a fun, unusual album, and its many quirks will always stand out, but the songs and playing are more competent and perhaps even conventional than they seem.

Israël Quellet, Oppressum (CD)

Israël Quellet remains a bit of a mystery. There's a short biography on the Internet that doesn't really explain how he ends up creating such innovative and distinctive albums. 2007's Oppressum reminds me a bit of Italy's Starfuckers/Sinistri, or maybe a Bruce Gilbert solo album. Most tracks are built on rhythmic loop, often made from harsh percussion. The results can be a bit abrasive, but never particularly "rocking"—the energy and aggression are not used to achieve emotional impact, but at the same time the results never feel detached or aloof. Quellet uses vocals both to interact with the underlying rhythms and to violate them. Oppressum is an unusual and remarkable record that's engaging intellectually while remaining approachable in every way.

Great Lakes, Diamond Times (CD)

I'm of course biased about Great Lakes, having worked on Ways of Escape. 2006's Diamond Times feels, to me, like a particularly transitional album. The self-titled debut caught listeners' attention with its raw energy, and Ways of Escape reflects a mature and obviously darker songwriting voice. The two albums in between reflect the process of growing up and grappling with these changes. The power of unbridled youth that still poked through The Distance Between is gone here, but the songwriting is noticeably more focused. The piano really jumps out in the mixes (perhaps that's Jamey Huggins, but the liner notes aren't very clear), and there's some great guitar playing too.

Chris Knox, Yes!! (CD)

It's hard to even write rationally about Chris's music at this point. It's also really inspiring to see video of him back on a stage performing with charisma and energy at a point where many others might have given up. I still do enjoy listening to his many great albums. By the time of 1997's Yes!!, he'd fallen into a bit of a formula, so it lacks some of the magic feeling of discovery that's present on Croaker. It features a bit heavier guitar sounds, a bagpipe, and the unforgettable "Ballad of a Victim of the Economic Recovery". There's also one of Chris's very odd collage pieces at the end—17 minutes and 26 seconds of "Ndidi". The combination of colors and patterns on the cover is hard to look at, which fits Chris's personality but not so much the music inside.