The Chills, Kaleidoscope World (12" EP)

Kaleidoscope World, which was assembled in the UK in 1986 and reissued in the US in 1989, collects 8 of the 10 tracks from the early Chills EPs (1981-82).  The biggest mystery of the compilation is why it omits the other two songs—there is plenty of room on the vinyl.  These singles capture the magic of the Chills.  The songs are always memorably catchy, even when weird rave-ups and break-downs interrupt the conventional structures.  Martin Phillips's lyrics are often sad in an accessible and human scale, without drama or exaggeration.  The performances and recordings aren't perfect, but the magic of the songs comes through, and the quirks always add to their humanity.  The compilation packaging does not flatter the great material herein.

David Thomas, Monster Walks the Winter Lake (side A)

While 1986's Monster Walks the Winter Lake gives little hint of Thomas's long-running involvement with early punk innovators Pere Ubu, it definitely does reflect his love of Ken Nordine's Word Jazz.  Thomas tells strange and funny stories here over a stripped-down and largely acoustic backdrop.  Ubu bassist Tony Maimone switches to upright, Daved Hild from the Girls bangs on chairs, and Garo Yellin plays cello.  While the instruments sound a bit processed (it's hard for banging on chairs to sound organic), they're also incredibly clean and well-recorded.  The influence of Rain Dogs-era Tom Waits strikes me here.  Even Allen Ravenstine's synthesizer falls into the mix, with far less of the chaos that it brought classic Ubu songs.  The strange cover design gives no hint of the record's contents.

Meat Puppets, Meat Puppets II (side A)

1984's Meat Puppets II sounds both ahead of its time and unlike anything else.  While Up on the Sun seems to receive more critical attention, it seems more like a consolidation of ideas and a step back.  Meat Puppets II establishes the band's direction and identity with attitude, energy, and a wonderful bit of chaotic uncertainty.  Nods to the messy hardcore of the band's first album are juxtaposed with banjo and hints at country or folk.  The hints at roots music are completely dissembled, without the referent or reverence of the band's more stylized contemporaries.  While it was obviously recorded carefully in a studio, Meat Puppets II still manages to sound appropriately primitive, capturing a band performing near the edge of disaster.  Both the front cover painting and back cover photograph are perfect for the album.

Robert Wyatt, Comicopera (side C)

2003's Cuckooland has always felt, to me, weaker than most Robert Wyatt records—it seems more like an exploration of new ideas than one of his definitive classics.  2007's Comicopera maintains some of these ideas, but brings them back into the amazing framework established with Shleep.  There are a lot fewer references to a mid-80s early digital synthesizer palette, but the contrast between synthetic and organic that was so central to Cuckooland is maintained here.  Unlike Shleep, Wyatt branches out to singing in many languages on both originals and standards.  The recording and pressing both sound amazing, despite much of the tracking having been done in Wyatt's home—I do wish the frequency balance had a bit thicker midrange.  The packaging is great too, with thick reverse-stock inner and outer sleeves, lyrics on a folding insert card, and a poem etched on the back of the second disc instead of grooves and music.

Robert Barry and Fred Anderson, Duets 2001 (side A)

Duets 2001 was released in 2001, but it was recorded in 1999.  It captures longtime Chicago staple Fred Anderson playing duets with drummer Robert Barry.  While Barry playing exhibits the freedom of his work with Sun Ra, it also owes an obvious debt to the sound of earlier jazz drumming, especially in his very dark snare sound.  His sense of timing feels precise, but without the martial rigidity that Andrew Cyrille sometimes employs.  The closest comparison to Barry's playing here might be Philly Joe Jones's work with Archie Shepp.  Anderson sounds great too—he's obviously comfortable with the collaboration.  It has a lot of energy and employs fast tempos, as the duo, even in their freedom, never lose a classic sense of swing.  The live recording reflects the limitations of its creation, but it captures the dynamics and detail of the duo's performance.  The photos on the cover look great, the design stays out of the way, and the glossy inner sleeve is nice.

David Bedford, Nurses Song with Elephants (side A)

Listening to 1972's Nurses Song with Elephant seemed sad and appropriate given Bedford's passing a few weeks ago.  His compositions here combine an overt focus on texture with complex layering that evolves drastically through time.  Sounds are not presented in pointillistic fashion—they're thrown at the listener in constantly-evolving clusters.  Bedford also exploited his interest in pop music—these abstract compositions could incorporate song-like structures and vocals in a rapid turn.  The recording is natural and stays out of the way, but some high frequency detail seems to have been lost.  The overtly-70s font on the front cover, while it's totally unrelated to more timeless material, is my favorite element in the packaging—the back cover does not look good.

Tom Waits, Alice (side A)

From Waits's vocals through all of the instruments, 2002's Alice is a remarkable record sonically.  Everything appears to sound natural, but on closer inspection is heavily compressed and seems a bit synthetic.  The entire frequency range is well utilized, and it translates nicely to vinyl.  The musicianship is amazing, from celebrities like Stewart Copeland to "our size" people like Gino Robair and Carla Kihlstedt, and everything always falls into place perfectly behind the vocals in the mix.  Waits's vocal takes are also special, ranging from incredibly gravelly to some of his prettiest performances.  The songwriting always plays well to the vocals, but its inconsistency might be the album's only weakness.  The packaging, with a glossy inner sleeve, looks great too.

Plants, Dunn-Olson-Ramirez — 12/15/93 (side A)

In 1993, when Dunn-Olson-Ramirez was recorded, the influences of Borbetomagus and the Dead C were prominent in the experimental noise community.  Plants feature sheets of guitar and saxophone noise, filtered through lo-fi recordings, with splattery percussive accompaniment.  By 2007, when this album was released, it was notable as an early release from the Wolf Eyes/Universal Indians/Ex-Cocaine axis.  Dunn-Olson-Ramirez is a bad sounding cassette recording of this heavy noise, and no effort was made to improve the quality in mastering.  The album was pressed cheaply, with excess vinyl sticking out from the edges.  The handscreened, black-on-black cover is perfect for the album, both imposing and beautiful.

The Wolfgang Press, The Burden of Mules (side A)

The Wolfgang Press evolved out of the beloved Rema-Rema and their more goth successors Mass.  1983's The Burden of Mules reminds me a bit of Metal Box, and maybe the Birthday Party's Bad Seed EP—songs are built around deadpan vocals and repeating basslines.  Unlike those records, a drum machine provides a foundation, with only minimal percussion around it, in an arrangement comparable to Ike Yard.  The track "Slow as a Child" has more of an arty feel, more like Lady June than the Art Bears, and a long way from post-punk.  The sound is a bit subdued, but it's hard to tell if that's on purpose or a reflection of technical limitations.  The dark, murky packaging, looks great.

John Wiggins, All the Truth at Once (side A)

1986's All the Truth at Once establishes an interestingly layered sound field with a lot of dynamics.  Rhythmic patterns appear frequently, but they never last long or establish any sort of groove.  Minimal vocals cut in and out, along with occasional phrases that are obviously sampled.  Analog synth drones and warbles also interact with the other sounds in passing.  The album is sparse and rapidly evolving, without ever resorting to the feel of quick-cuts that became popular a few years later.  It sounds murky, slightly lo-fi, and very distinctive.  The packaging seems to have used early, low-budget digital design software to achieve a look that seems dated but still graceful.

Flying Saucer Attack, Chorus (side A)

1995's Chorus features thick sheets of distorted guitar.  While these layers somehow sound more atmospheric than aggressive, it's heavy for a Flying Saucer Attack album.  There's a lot of reverb, bits of droning feedback, and buried vocals that sound far away.  A lot of tracks on Chorus employ drastic panning across the sound field.  The sound is thick and full of body, and the LP is cut at a loud volume.  The reverse stock paper captures the cover image nicely, and the design flatters the music nicely.

Charalambides, Historic 6th Ward (side C)

The 2002 vinyl reissue of Historic 6th Ward includes liner notes with Tom Carter's honest and accurate description of the album.  It collects a series of styles and ideas from a 3 1/2 year period.  The albums from 1994 and 1995 that followed, Union and Market Square, established the sound with with Charlambides would be associated—dark, psychedelic, and woozy explorations, with Christina's vocals merging into folk-tinged guitar.  Historic 6th Ward, which was recorded between 1991 and 1994, includes seemingly everything else, from fairly straightforward indie-folk to some harsh sonic extremes reminiscent of Chrome.  The somewhat uniform mood that characterizes most Charlambides albums is thus missing here, but their vision and talent shine through the breadth of ideas.  The reissue nicely preserves the primitive source material, and the hand-assembled packaging looks great.

Richard Youngs, Sapphie (side A)

Originally released on CD in 1998, Sapphie defined a stylistic break for Richard Youngs.  His more experimental albums sometimes included songs with conventional structure and vocal melodies, especially the amazing new wave-influenced Pulse of the Rooster.  Sapphie was a far greater leap, as there are no unusual timbres or even overdubs.  Youngs's simple songs are rendered only with acoustic guitar and vocals, and his earlier playfulness has been abandoned.  The long, slowly-evolving tracks on Sapphie are sad and beautiful, as they expose a different side of Youngs's personality and creative voice.  After Sapphie, he has made a series of records following this template.  The 2006 LP reissue looks great, with nice reverse stock paper for the cover, but it would have benefited from a bit darker frequency balance.

Riechmann, Wunderbar (side A)

Wolfgang Riechmann's 1978 LP was released at the same time as Michael Rother's Sterntaler and just after Ashra's New Age of Earth.  Both of those albums are often acknowledged as influential and ahead of their time—Wunderbar sounds perhaps more contemporary than either, but is often overlooked, perhaps because of Riechmann's limited output.  The drum machine programs sound great, and the layered guitar and synths are impressive, whether on faster, dancier tracks or moving at slower tempos.  "Abendlicht" is particularly ahead of its time—the submerged bass rhythm reminds me of Gas or Polmo Polpo.  The reissue is also impressive—the LP is on thick vinyl and is particularly well mastered, and the packaging looks great too.

Au Pairs, Live in Berlin (side A)

1983's Live in Berlin documents a 1981 concert—most material comes from Playing with a Different Sex, and the performances and arrangements are very close to those on the album.  The playing and singing are impressively focused and disciplined—it sounds like the band has been on tour a lot playing these songs.  The set ends with a fast-paced romp through "Piece of My Heart".  The sound is simple and not particularly impressive, but it also stays out of the way in capturing these strong performances.  The austere packaging looks almost like a bootleg (including failing to credit David Bowie for "Repetition"), but Live in Berlin appears to have been an official release.

The Ex, Catch My Shoe (side A)

2011's Catch My Shoe is a surprising departure for the Ex for many reasons.  Founding singer Jos has left and been replaced with Arnold from Zea, and the group is now a quartet with no bassist.  The resulting album is the lightest and most fun Ex record since their earliest, chaotic punk rock days.  The lyrics are still rich in messaging (except, perhaps, the ones in Ethiopian—I can't tell), but they're less blunt and more open-ended than Jos's overtly didactic tendencies.  The music has lost much of its darkness without abandoning its sheer intensity.  The drums are quieter than they were on the last few records, too, which is a relief, and gives the guitars more room to breathe.  The cover still looks like an old-school punk rock record, and I wouldn't hope for anything else from one of the last great first-generation punk bands standing.

The Ornette Coleman Quartet, This is Our Music (side A)

1961's This is Our Music is the third the famous trilogy of Ornette's quartet albums that captured his approach and in many ways created his legacy.  After two records with Billy Higgins on drums, Ed Blackwell appears here—Higgins's aggressively pulsing cymbal work is replaced with Blackwell's greater emphasis on toms and polyrhythms.  Ornette's compositions are still lyrical and can border on romantic, but they hint even more at the abstract ideas that would follow.  The amazing photo and cover design have grown canonical and been imitated.  My 90s pressing is mastered to make Haden's bass a bit more clearly audible, but it also emphasizes some of the harshness in Cherry's pocket-trumpet that I'd rather not hear so well.

Fifty Foot Hose, Cauldron (side A)

1967's Cauldron dates from the height of the Bay Area psychedelic movement, having been released between After Bathing at Baxter's and Anthem of the Sun.  While their work fits nicely alongside those famous records, because Fifty Foot Hose did not have a more commercially-viable career surrounding its release, they're seen as a bit more of an outsider band.  Cauldron includes short synth interludes and lots of long tape delay everywhere, especially on the vocals (an Echolette is on the instrument list).  The musicianship doesn't quite rival Airplane or the Dead, but the ideas translate through Fifty Foot Hose's technical limitations.  Longtime Grateful Dead affiliate Dan Healy appears in the credits, and the cover painting fits the era perfectly too.  Unfortunately, my 2010 reissue, which is pressed on nice thick vinyl, is mastered to sound bright and modern, far from the frequency balance of the original LP (and the EQs used to boost the highs distort a bit, too).

Popol Vuh, In den Gärten Pharaos (side A)

1971's In den Gärten Pharaos consists of two side-long tracks.  Both feature slowly evolving synthesizer drones over vaguely indigenous-sounding percussion.  The title track on side A rolls gently, while "Vuh" on side B is harsher and more aggressive.  My 1997 pressing features a nice reproduction of the original gatefold (the simple design on an orange background is tasteful and appropriate) and super-thick vinyl, but distorted trebly parts sound unnecessarily harsh and reflect an inadequate mastering job.

David Bowie, Diamond Dogs (side A)

1974's Diamond Dogs is a radical departure from Bowie's last album of original material, Aladdin Sane.  Gone now is Mick Ronson's powerful rhythm guitar, and it's been replaced, to some extent, by silence.  Any rhythm guitars are acoustic, and any drive from these or the keyboards usually sounds synthetic and slightly unflattering.  The vocals are also compressed with a more synthetic feel, and sometimes extremely processed with unusual effects like tremolo.  Layered keyboards, saxophones, and sparse guitar lines fill the space, but seem detached from the more conventional rock attack that the rhythm section often provides.  The gatefold front and inside cover images provide a wild and futuristic context that nicely accompanies Bowie's lyrics.

Javanese Court Gamelan Volume II (side A)

The style of 1977's Javanese Court Gamelan Volume II is subdued and calm.  The album contains two very short tracks and two very long ones—3 of the 4 have vocals.  The singing strikes me as an obvious influence on Sun City Girls' microtonal vocal excursions—it shifts and slides through a set of notes that seems like a scale, but it's clearly an unfamiliar one to Western ears.  The tempos are consistently slow, and the pieces give a sense of structure and composition.  The recording captures a nice balance, and I wish the photos on the back cover were larger.

Fairport Convention, Unhalfbricking (side A)

1969's Unhalfbricking is a stranger album than I had remembered it.  Fairly rigid rock drumming turns up at times, and then at others it's replaced by banging on chairs.  There's an eleven minute song (an ambitious arrangement of the traditional "A Sailor's Life"), and also singing in French (on a Bob Dylan cover).  It also memorably includes classics from Richard Thompson ("Genesis Hall") and Sandy Denny ("Who Knows Where the Time Goes").  The recording is simple and timeless, but the weird picture of elephants on the cover of my US pressing makes little sense.

The Band, Stage Fright (side A)

In the age of MP3s, I'm not sure how much artists worry about front-loading albums.  During the CD era, it seemed common to put the best songs at the beginning of an album.  1970's Stage Fright, from many years earlier, took a completely opposite approach—the weakest songs on the album are at the beginning, and all of the hits and even near-hits are on side B.  The recordings are a lot more modern and conventional than the first two albums, with more separation and less bleed.  The frequency balance is overly bright and present, at the very beginning of the decade where this trend was prominent (fortunately, the cymbals still sound dark and rich, without any shrillness).  The lead vocal on "All La Glory" (which sounds like Richard Manuel) particularly flatters his take, where on earlier albums vocal sounds were blended more.  The album cover is unconventional, and far less referentially old than the first two Band albums.

Robyn Hitchcock, I Often Dream of Trains (side A)

The songwriting on 1984's I Often Dream of Trains is of course great.  The arrangements are strange, but end up complementing the songs perfectly.  Nearly the entire album is built around a bright, obviously synthetic electric piano.  The performances and arrangements hint at Hunky Dory-era Bowie, but with the electric piano replacing Rick Wakeman's organic instrument, the sound changes drastically.  The acoustic guitar and vocals, which are often the only other instruments (as Hitchcock plays nearly everything) are mixed to match the weird sounding piano.  The frequency balance is overly present and lacks low-end, but the sound somehow matches the material, and contributes to the timelessness of I Often Dream of Trains.

Nick Drake, Bryter Layter (side A)

1970's Bryter Layter has gained canonical status long after its release.  Its vague jazz tinge reflects Drake's close association with John Martyn at the time, and Chris MacGregor's piano solo on "Poor Boy" is of course special.  My 1977 re-press has liner notes on the back from a music writer named Sam Sutherland make me laugh—they hint at the recognition he'd receive in the future, even as he was far less well remembered at the time.  In some places, the sibilance is too noticeable on the vocals—it might just be the mastering job of my re-press.

John Coltrane Quartet, Crescent (side A)

While 1964's Crescent receives far less press than its immediate successor A Love Supreme, it still feels like a canonical album that's hard to discuss.  Coltrane is grappling here with both freedom, on "The Drum Thing", and structure, through the rest of the album.  He's also balancing light and dark emotional content on different tracks.  I have a mid-90s LP—it's pressed on nice, thick vinyl, with a beautiful recreation of the gatefold cover.  The mastering does a great job of emphasizing Garrison's bass, but the mid-range is a bit thin and the highs on the cymbals were boosted too much.

The Soul of Mbira (side A)

1973's The Soul of Mbira dates from when the country of Zimbabwe was still called Rhodesia.  It documents four different regional mbira traditions.  While westerners typically find mbiras as small planks of wood, they were traditionally mounted inside of gourds for resonance.  The music is consistently uplifting and happy without feeling heavy-handed.  Vocals and shakers called hosho often accompany the mbira.  At times on this recording, the hosho overpower the mbira—the illogically bright mastering job on my 80s repress unfortunately amplifies this problem.  While the detailed liner notes are informative, I wish the musician images on the back cover were somehow larger.

Thomas Köner, Nunatak (side A)

2010 marked the vinyl reissue of 1990's CD-only Nunatak, which was originally called Nunatak Gongamur.  Nunatak's sonic environment evolves very slowly—there is usually only one sound at a time, and each sounds is long in duration.  Most of the sounds are in the high-bass/low-mid frequency range with limited, muffled overtones.  These warbles sound like the gongs that apparently created them.  The remaining sounds are high frequencies, of unidentifiable origin, are attributed to home-made woodwind instruments, and these sounds jump out a bit in the mix.  While the album moves continuously and organically, the 11 pieces on Nunatak employ a consistent enough palette and pacing that there is limited differentiation between them.  The blurry, black-and-white photo that looks like people leading dogs up a snowy mountain is a perfect cover image.

The Eternals, Approaching the Energy Field (side A)

On 2007's Heavy International, the Eternals emphasized their powerful rhythm section the most of any of their albums.  2011's Approaching the Energy Field marks something of a return to the electronic focus of their early 12"s.  Tim Mulvenna returns to drum on a few songs, but Wayne seems to play more keyboards and even guitar than bass this time, and it pulls the record in a much more synthetic direction.  The songs are dance-y without being bass-heavy, with lots of interesting detail that comes at least vaguely closer to hip-hop than the group's recent albums.  Damon's vocals, of course, are far more melodic and song-like than particularly resembling rap, even when they take on a sort of spoken quality.  Wayne handled all of the recording this time, and while it sounds a bit primitive (better mastering would help), it almost magically captures the ideas and the music.  The cover is a collage of photographs rather than drawings, a departure from the group's earlier albums.

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.