The Blithe Sons, The Great Orthochromatic Wheel (side A)

The Great Orthochromatic Wheel is a 2008 album from this avant-folk duo, part of San Francisco's Jewelled Antler Collective. The tracks are floaty and ethereal with acoustic guitars and a generally folk-y feel. Vocals blend into the compositions and never stand out as songs or melodies. There's not much low-end on the record, except for an occasional tom that juts out rhythmically. The haze of the sound is achieved more through density and a lo-fi feel that lacks transients, rather than a wash of electronic reverb. The blurry cover photo of a field fits the music perfectly. The liner notes claim that one of the tracks borrows from an old Genesis song on Trespass, but I was fooled.

Maarten Altena Octet & Nonet, Quick Step (side A)

Dutch bassist Maarten Altena assembled these groups to play 7 of his chamber jazz compositions. The references to jazz are more in the rhythm and tonality than the use of improvisation—the compositional structures are prominently featured here. Guus Jansen's percussive piano is prominently featured, especially on the tracks without a drummer, and I'm always partial to the use of traditional/ethnic double reed instruments (Maud Sauer plays shehnai here). The strangest thing about the album might be that Altena's bass is barely audible in the very bright mix/master. Quick Step features recordings from 1984-85 and was released in 1986.

The Fall, Domesday Pay-Off (side A)

Domesday Pay-Off is a bit of a confusing Fall release, since it's sort of a butchered American version of an English album (Bend Sinister). It dates from 1987, roughly the beginning of their more commercial new wave phase, and the production has hints of the records that follow it. The music ranges from fairly straightforward garage rock (a cover of "Mr. Pharmacist") to one of their strangest and most abstract tracks ("U.S. 80s-90s"). Domesday Pay-Off is more a weird, transitional Fall album than a classic.

Lycaon Pictus, Lycaon Pictus (side A)

I recorded and mixed this album, and it still feels pretty impossible to judge objectively. We made Lycaon Pictus in 2007 and it came out in 2008. It combines the energy of their live concerts with some of their weird ideas about making an album, and I still feel good about these mixes from when I was far less experienced behind a console. Jen did a great job on the mastering, and the metallic silver looks nice on the packaging.

The Red Crayola with Art & Language, Black Snakes (side A)

By 1983, Jesse Chamberlain had left the Red Crayola, and the sheer insanity that makes Soldier Talk and Kangaroo? legendary had diminished, at least slightly. Black Snakes resembles those records, but is vaguely a more straightforward new wave album. The somewhat surgical production is typical of its era, but with less effects than would be expected for either new wave or the Red Krayola. The weird and interesting songwriting barely draws notice in the band's long history. The playing is great, but the vocal takes are probably not Mayo's best on record. Allen Ravenstine stands out as always, and Black Snakes includes several songs still in the group's live repertoire.

Conrad Bauer Quartet/DDR, 'Round About Mittweida (side A)

'Round About Mittweida is an album of East German quartet improv from 1982. The most distinctive trait is the odd line-up—two guitars and two trombones. They're hard panned, with one of each instrument on each side. Some tracks are quite aggressive, while others leave more space—the trombones' particularly dense timbre shapes the dynamics. It's a pretty standard record of the idiom, with interesting playing. The abstract pink and gray cover painting is quite nice, though the conservative fonts don't really mesh with it. Jost Gebers's recording over-emphasizes presence, with the trombones sounding a bit brassy and the guitars a bit harsh—the fine performances come through nicely nonetheless.

Courtis/Moore, Brokebox Juke (side A)

If I could have expected anything from 2009's Brokebox Juke, it would have been pretty unapproachable noise. Alan Courtis from Reynols is a strong musical personality, and his work is often somewhat abrasive and challenging. Coupled with the difficulties of a long-distance collaboration, I expected this side of the pair's work to come through. Instead, a diverse record emerged from the process. There are repeating phrases, some of them featuring clear melodic content with a vaguely folky tinge—these parts remind me of Aaron Moore's group Volcano the Bear. The results in the end are a series of new experiments stretching both members of the duo—an impressive and diverse result of the collaboration. The grayscale photos on the gatefold cover are quite nice, and the sound quality is fine (for what I'm assuming is a primitive recording) if at times unnecessarily trebly.