RICHARD CHEESE - Aperitif for Destruction (2005)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album Assigned by: Dina Levina

Look it’s a collection of lounge jazz covers of pop and pop metal. Yeah, that’s about it. Does that sound like something you’d want? Good it exists, it’s here. There are literally 12 other Dick, I mean, Richard Cheese albums that do the exact same thing. The exact same joke over and over again. Why though? Why the fuck would there be 12 of these fucking things? The joke isn’t that good. It’s like at best a smile, but 33 minutes of it and that smile is just a frown. I didn’t like most of these songs in their actual form and i don’t like lounge jazz, nor do i find it that funny that Black Eyed Peas get the ol’ Sinatra Blue eyed bullshit treatment. 

I once said that my only regret in life was not seeing Anal Cunt play befor Seth Putnam went to the great gig in the sky. Anal Cunt was a joke band that had oh twoish levels. First level, Grindcore so ridiculously over the top offensive that even grindcore fans disliked it. Two, the exact opposite of that for the lulz of a band called Anal Cunt writing acoustic ballads about respecting women. But Seth did something beyond just this joke, He also was a complete and total hedonistic douche bag. He was a man that you’d troll internet forums just to find out what craziness that bastard was up to. There is this famous picture of him disinterestedly getting a blowjob while he shat heroin on stage. It’s beautiful in it’s trashiness. Now that’s a joke band, not this Richard Cheese shit. I don’t know how Richard sleeps at night knowing he’s wasted so many years, playing lame covers of lame songs for a lame reason. If it didn’t atleast pay for complete and total debasement then... why? 

WHY?

JOHN COLTRANE - Om (1968)

Review by: Joseph Middleton-Welling
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

“Coltrane for tryhards”- Blob Nayld, PhD

Like a door creaking. Not in a good way. Sounds like fucking ass. This is a bad album. Right i like some free jazz but this is a load of wank (“its pretty wank”). Oh Coltrane was apparently on LSD during the sessions, probably thought his saxophone was a snake or something. Honk honk honk. Like elvin jones sounds like he has no idea whats going on. The best bits on this record are the chants. Sounds a bit like magma. It’s a fucking horrible album. 

CHICO SCIENCE AND NAÇÃO ZUMBI - Da Lama ao Caos (1994)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Francelino Prazeres de Azevedo Filho

Ever since this project began, I’ve been given records whose taste doesn’t suit my palate, which is good to a degree. It get’s me out of my ghetto of listening patterns. So far though,  I’ve not really enjoyed any of them, which i find weird because I think i have a wide palette. I mean my current listening collection has reggae, jazz, metal, and pop rock, and yet, you Only Solitairians keep giving me music that I don’t enjoy. Apparently, i’m more narrow minded then I think I am. 

However, this round I was assigned an album that I should like. It’s this Brazilian funky hip hop alt rock fusion group with leftist politics and fantastic hand drumming (that only Brazil could do.) Essentially, Brazil's answer to Rage Against the Machine, a group that any child of ‘90s knows and loves. Yet, I don’t like this record. 

First let’s start with the MC. Now I don’t exactly know what he is talking about, I’m a dumb American that can’t speak Portuguese. It’s pretty terrible how monolingual my decaying empire is, but that’s the fact of the matter, but I digress. I’m pretty certain all the lyrics are leftist in tone, I believe i heard a Viva Zapata, and who doesn’t love Emiliano Zapata? Well, fascists of course, but surely any sane person loves themselves some Zapatistas. So good for Chico. It’s just his delivery sounds like a macho football hooligan that wanted to be a hip hop MC. I just find his tone and style unsavory. He probably is spitting the truth, but my dumb ears can’t decipher it or more to the point enjoy it.  

The next problem is the guitar. The tone is so ‘90s, it’s like a mixture of generic hardish alt rock and funk, which just turns me off. Like if he sounds like a local bar band’s guitarist attempt at sounding like John Frusciante or Tom Morello, and the guitar tones he uses are so generic ‘90s altrock that it sucks all the funk out. 

With all those problem, I must say the percussion was on point. I love those tribal drums, and this album has a lot of it. Unfortunately, they surround subpar songs with subpar guitar and a subpar MC. Not for me, perhaps next session, I’ll get a new album that I will love. 

WITCHCRAFT - Legend (2012)

Review by: B.B. Fultz
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

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NOTE : The only versions of this album that I could find had some gaps between the songs, so I'm assuming a few of the songs were missing. It's possible the missing songs are better than the ones I commented on, so take my lukewarm review of the album with a grain of salt.

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An album by a band called Witchcraft, billed as "doom metal" by reviewers, and released in the year 2012 doesn't sound promising. One can already hear the overproduced mess of power chords, the unintelligible lyrics, the phlegm-throated shrieking, all the elements of something an angsty 13 year old boy might headbang to (when he wasn't listening to Korn). 

Good News ... This album isn't like that. Surprisingly, it's a callback to classic heavy metal. The most obvious and most prevalent influence is early Black Sabbath. From the very first song, the vocal style reminds me of Ozzy. Not the voice so much as how the lyrics are sung. Specifically mid-period Sabbath (Vol-4/SBS/Sabotage) where Ozzy was expanding his emotive range rather than simply repeating the guitar phrases with his voice. The vocalist is good enough in his way. He's no great shakes but he has a decent enough range to pull off these songs. For heavy metal, there's surprisingly not much screaming or growling on this album. This singer favors melodicity over brute force. The upside to this is, he doesn't sound like a total choad. The downside is that he doesn't make a very strong impression. He's no Ian Gillan, just a run-of-the-mill rock singer with an okay set of pipes. 

The songs tend to grind along at mid-tempo. They're heavy, but not too heavy. There's lots of sludge here, but there's also a momentum of sorts. These guys aren't just playing that sludgy metal sound because it "sounds cool" (although it does), they're actually trying to go somewhere with it. There is a lot of melodic string-plucking between the heavy riffs, and passages that sound like they're trying to be acoustic even though they're electric guitar ... you know, that quasi-medieval sound, when heavy metal is trying a little too hard to sound emotional and cathartic (Blackmore's Rainbow must have been another influence). The riffs themselves are not all that memorable. Likewise, the playing is competent, but not much beyond that. Most of these songs probably won't stick in your head if you're not a heavy metal fan, and maybe even if you are one. 

The solos are the most interesting part of the album, because they're such a deliberate callback to classic rock bands (of various schools, not just heavy metal). They often resemble 70s hard rock solos (slow and heavy -- think David Gilmour in "Pigs") combined with certain melodic tendencies from 80s metal solos. They are not very fast or flashy, which probably works to their advantage. 70s solos were pieces of information, each note a specific word or phrase or gesture, which is what separated them from generic 80s noodling. A given solo might sound like Sabbath, Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, Thin Lizzy, even Lynyrd Skynyrd. The more interesting solos sound like a few different bands over a short span of time. While there are 80s (and later) elements at work here, the heart of the solos is rooted in 70s hard rock. 

Nothing on this album jumps out as amazing or innovative, but that's probably not what they were going for. It's more of a tribute to classic rock by some guys with a little skill and an obvious love for the older bands. Whatever hooks there are on this album, if any, are not especially sharp, but at least it's a reasonably coherent tribute to old school heavy metal. And in 2012, that's maybe not such a bad thing.

DE KIFT - Vlaskoorts (1999)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Mark Maria Ahsmann

De Kift is a band that plays a modern reconstruction of early 19th century cabaret music. All of these tunes seemed born from working class music halls during the turn of the 20th century, and then given a slight discordant modern touch with the odd arrangement or spoken word bit. It’s not too discordant to off shoot the old fashioned songs, but it’s enough to know that the musicians probably own a few Einsturzende Neubauten records. The question though is it any good? And that’s where we have a problem. 

I came to this record with multiple prejudices and inadequacies that hinder my enjoyment. One, It has taken me lots of repeated listenings to jazz, soul, and reggae records to not hate brass instruments. I come from America and the tradition of big brass bands playing in our sports is an endemic anachronism, and I find those old war marches a combination of quaint and shrill. Cabaret brass comes from a similar heritage and despite a bit of a jazz influence on this record, it still has that frumpy uptight feel. 

Two, I really hate accordions. I don’t know why exactly i’m turned off by them. Where i’m from, the accordion is super popular with Mexican Americans and Mexican immigrants, and perhaps some hidden racism or classism is afoot. It’s the main instrument in tejano music which is a combination of Mexican folk and German polka music. I’ve always loathed it, as well as polka music. Something about the rhythms just seem so sexless, and uptight. And polka is a hop skip and a jump from cabaret, or is literally a subgenre of it. I really don’t know much about European folk brass dance music. In my mind, Europe’s best musical invention was combining synthesizers and disco rhythms, and well, this is a long way from Giorgio Moroder. 

And last, I’m American. I speak one language. It’s ridiculous and limiting, I know, so the parts where spoken word poetry is happening, I tune out. It’s not melodic and I don’t understand what’s being spoken. I have hunch it’s political in some regard but i don’t know. The cleverness or beauty of the poetry is completely absent in my loathsome ignorance.

So I did not like this album, but I feel i have no real way to adequately critique it due to my prejudices. I will say that they didn’t go far enough beyond cabaret cliches to make me question my prejudices. I have heard some gypsy punk and dark cabaret groups that make me second guess my hatred of old European dance music. This just made me want to delete it from hard drive as soon as possible.

THE FLAMING LIPS - Clouds Taste Metallic (1995)

Review by: Victor Guimarães
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

“So, it was a warm spring evening when I arrived at Oklahoma City to see its most famous band: The Flaming Lips. And in this hometown-comeback concert, they’re playing Clouds Taste Metallic in full! Wow, can’t wait for that!”

Gods, I surely wanted to have said that sentence just above. And to have lived it as well - you know what they say about the amazing experience that is a Lips concert? Something like 50 bands to see before you (or they) die. But, unfortunately, all that I got was the pleasure of restraining myself to online streaming players. Damn! 

Ok, everyone knows the band, right? Americans, heavily inspired by psychedelic culture and known for their sound experimentations from the 80s to this day. Cool, huh? Clouds Taste Metallic is their seventh album, the last to feature guitarist Ronald Jones, and the last guitar-oriented, traditional rock based album. So, expect lots of good rock songs, all of them as short as 4 minutes, and all sporting great spirit. Expect well-thought melodies, those whose drum tempos, bass lines, guitar solos were precisely orchestrated to fit in together with the smart free-verse singing and bring specific emotions to the listener. Now, add the spaced, poetic, metaphorical lyrics and you’ve got the recipe for a great album.

Well, no one is expected to be spared from criticism, right? I could say the songs are too short, that they could’ve been done in a better, most complex way. Or that the lyrics are, in its majority, too metaphorical, too indirect, in such a way that a full comprehension will require some mindwork from the average listener. No, it’d all be wimpy criticism. One could also say the album is too simple. Come on! They are the 'good simple', with discrete touches of geniality all over the album. For me, those small, discontinuous, but ever-present displays of great ideas is exactly what (and one of the many ways that) distinguishes a great composition from a good one. But even with all that praise, I still got the feeling that there was something amiss in Clouds Taste Metallic. As I write those final lines of this review, after listening to the album a couple of times, I still hadn’t figured out what I think they missed. 

At last, don’t fool yourself with doubts or second thoughts: great album from a great band. What more could I say? I wished I’d seen ‘em live!

ISIS - Panopticon (2004)

Review by: Jonathan Moss
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

Apparently this is a concept album based on Jeremy Bentham's idea of how a prison should be designed, as some sort of reflection on modern society and how its totally fucked bro, etc. I don't care about any of that though, but man this is a neat album!

So I guess Godflesh is the obvious comparison, but how can you not make it? This album sounds quite obviously inspired by Godflesh. Pounding industrial metal with growley vocals. They definitely aren't ripping off Godflesh though, if they were I would write a review of Streetcleaner in protest. No, this takes the sound Godflesh started in new and exciting directions! I don't know why, because the record isn't that synth laden, but it reminds me somewhat of Aphex Twin. Maybe it's just the vibe, kind of depressing, but in a spacey way, and quite British as well, so bleak, like all those buildings we have, both rural and industrial. So, this is some sort of metal album, but it features long passages of clean, kind of chiming, proggish guitar playing, almost a sort of negative psychedelia. This, when juxtaposed with the harsh, grinding passages, makes for a thrilling combination. Of course, it helps that this isn't spastic, the album maintains a tense, sombre mood throughout, with the clean passages helping give it a melancholic vibe and the noisy ones expressing anger and stopping it from becoming boring, like a porcupine tree album. It also helps to give the album a certain depth, though without seeming pretentious, which is surprising considering the concept.

Who wants an album where you have to read Foucault to get the lyrics? I know I do.

It's somewhat hard to go into individual songs, the album working so well together as a cohesive whole, but I don't want this review to be short so enjoy this shitty filler paragraph. Well, the opening song “So Did We” is serves its function very well, it made me realise the album was going to be worth listening to straight away, and well worth writing about (which is why I'm so late with this review). It establishes the dynamics of the album quickly and has some great riffs. Which reminds me, this album is seriously catchy, most of the songs have at least one riff worth paying attention to. And the riffs to the quiet sections, those are as beautiful as a man who doesn't open a tinder conversation with a photo of his dick. The last song is cool as well, featuring a slightly grungier, more monolithic sound, and some cool effects, creating a dirge like effect. It also has some truly elegiac guitar passages.

Anyway, time for some criticism, and I guess I have the same criticism I had of that Ann Peebles album, which is that this can be somewhat monotonous. I get that this is a concept album, so it wants to maintain a similar mood, and it definitely doesn't harm the album that much, but I do wish they had included some variety, I just can't think of what else they could have done. Maybe a song that crosses from melancholia to outright despair, or a really angry industrial metal song, but then the album might lose some of its individuality, so what the fuck do I know?

Either way, this album is fabulous and will enter my rotation.

THE DEL FUEGOS - The Longest Day (1984)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Charly Saenz

There is this phenomenon I’ve noticed in both in myself and others. I like to call it the local band hyperbole. It’s when a band that is close to you by proximity, and thus you will exaggerate their abilities to everyone in earshot. I know i’ve done this with bands my friends were a part of and I know i’ve see this happen in others as well. You’ll gloss over all the problems and start waxing poetic about their not ready for prime time actuality. My guess is that by their proximity, you put a little more attachment to their sound then say, the recent mega band from a sea over. 

And that brings me to this little record, The Longest Day by The Del Fuegos. Even though this album is what? 30 years old and from the semi major city of Boston, It’s making me want to boast and brag like the Del Fuegos were born from my very loins... This though is an illusion.. This record is rough around the edges slice of retro rock done in the 80s. The fact that the Del Fuegos didn’t appear on the Rhino box set Children of Nuggets, is a crime. All of these songs would fit there nicely, with their “ I want to be in the ‘60s, but my production says I’m horribly stuck in the ‘80s”. In fact this record reminds me of a band featured on the children of Nuggets box set, The La’s. The La’s debut was filled with rough and tumble garage rocky songs. All of them were okay, but not great, except for their one big hit, “There She Goes”. The Del Fuegos’ debut is exactly like that except for a few differences. One they replace the jangle with light country influence, two, the La’s have a more polished production whereas, Del Fuegos sound like ‘80s indie production (it’s not as bad as Black Flag demos, but it’s not exactly REM either). Oh, and there is one major difference, there isn’t a masterstroke like “There She Goes” 

But gosh darnit, these guys sound so sincere, and authentic, and I’m sure they would have rocked local talent night at their nearest bar, but, but, but, let's get real, The Replacements do everything these guys do, and better. So If Children of Nuggets is your favorite Rhino Box set, GET THIS NOW. Everyone else get a Replacements record.

GROVER WASHINGTON JR. - Mister Magic (1975)

Review by: Syd Spence

Album assigned by: Eric Pember

I’ve always loved the idea of jazz fusion. Take the blistering Coltrane style sax solo, slap it over a thick diamond hard funk groove, and you’d be nearing audio perfection. Yet, barring a few Miles Davis albums, I’ve been perennially disappointed by it and I think I’ve figured out why. See most of the Jazz Fusion artists are old bop pros, far from their experimental youth. They reach the ‘70s and go, “the kids are diggin this funk stuff, with its simple rhythms and electric bass. Hey, why don’t we combine smooth jazz melodies with these popular rhythms. Then we will make so much dough we can start buying smack again.” Essentially, a lot of jazz fusion like Herbie Hancock, Weather Report, etc sounds to my ears like proto Kenny G. It’s a little more academic (with it’s weird time signatures), but in the end it’s generally easy listening, and lacking that Coltrane edge. It’s like the Jazz equivalent of AOR, it’s not quite adult contemporary but it’s getting there. 

Anyways, that leaves us to this album, Mr. Magic, which exudes literally all those qualities. Its melodies are smooth, the instrumentation is tight, the arrangements are a little quirky (to a non jazz ear). But the whole thing is so damn safe that it’s just ready made for a some adventurous elevator. 

Case in point, the star of the show, the 12 minute long centerpiece, “Earth Tones.” The track starts with the band creating a tremendous near psychedelic ambience with it’s mix of electric piano, animal sounds and bass noodling. And then horns and drums, bass come in and it sounds great, just thick and awesome, but then your mind focuses on the melody and … it’s just, well it sounds like music used for scene changes in a ‘70s made for tv movie. Then they mess with the time signature and Grover comes in does some jazz soloing business and it sounds great again, and then it’s time for another scene change in The Young and the Restless. And this happens throughout the 12 minutes, cool jazz funkery, periodicly being interupted by that all too friendly melody. And this is the most adventurous and interesting track of the bunch, completely ruined by such a conventional melody. 

The rest of the album varies’ from smooth jazz meets hollywood strings to limp funk tunes. The best of which is probably Black Frost. It’s pretty much a straight funk tune that’s just missing that James Brown spark. It’s not bad, but not really something you need either. 

Overall, I don’t like jazz fusion but if you do, you’d probably love this record. Just go in expecting that cool smooth academic jazz fusion like the Weather Report. Me, I’ll continue fantasizing about John Coltrane joining Parliament. 

OM - Advaitic Songs (2012)

Review by: Charly Saenz
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

I admit I had never listened to Om before. However I feel it's interesting that they touch upon genres like Psychedelic rock and ambient in connection with diverse Metal flavors - and there's some spirituality in the air, too. Do they mix successfully the sacred sound with the doomy intensity of Metal? We will see.

 This album starts off with a severe prayer tone, a devotional female vocal that blends in with some bass heavy instrumentation, some apt soundtrack to a sequel for The Mummy movie. There are some rock guitar here and there, but the musical spine of this song is very simple and repetitive.  

 For “State of non Return” the morose rhythm is a little more metallic since the start; metallic for the very nature of the drumming and then because of the Traditional Metal band taking control immediately. Fans, rest assured, there’s some power in here. Curious, but the vocals never take off, they follow the lazy monotony. This is the way you transmit a message of Doom, for sure. There is a solid intermezzo with violins in conjunction with a classic rock drum pattern that is totally enthralling.

 “Gethsemane” has a false start and then it begins anew with a droney keyboard pattern that persists in the background. The male vocal, once more doesn’t stand out, which is good. “Sinai” has some creative drumming but it ain’t of much interest.

The closing theme is quite subtle, not really an epic exit in bombastic terms. Some religious chorus, this time a male voice and more violins.

DANIELLE DAX - Pop-Eyes (1983)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Tom Hadrian Kovalevsky 

Art. No, no that’s not right. ART! Still, not feeling that. Maybe @ur(T). Yeah, that’s it. That’s what Danielle Dax plays on Pop-Eyes, @ur(T). I know, I know. That’s a weird pretentious misspelling of art, and not a music genre, but i think it sounds better than experimental post punk progressive pop ART SCHOOL music. 

Because seriously that’s a lot of words to describe music that says only one thing, and that’s “I went to art school and You need to know about it.” It’s weird, It abandons the rules. It’s very satisfied about itself. When it clicks two simple acoustic guitar chords to a saxophone solo, you know it’s done for the ecstacy of all the chin scratching intellectuals in the world.  It’s @ur(T). Love it because it makes you interesting and different. Love it even more because most people will never get it. Your special. The world will never understand your innate genius. Stupid world! More saxophones pls!

This is not the first @ur(T) release I’ve encountered, and it won’t be the last, but it’s definitely something I try and avoid. See I’ve never really fully got this type of music. I can dig the artist that dip their toes into art school shenaniganry like say Sonic Youth or Crass, but full on @ur(T) turns me off. I have nothing against experimentation in music. Hell, Can is one of my favorite bands (and I do indeed on occasion listen to the second record of Tago Mago too). But the experimentation of @ur(T) always seems egoic, like the strangeness is done for a “look at me, I’m deep” effect rather than any actual boundary pushing. 

And that is all the experimentation on this record. Dax twists her voice in affected mannerisms. Dax recites nursery rhyme lyrics over a simple synth riff with clanking spoons percussion. Etc etc. This record reminds me of Lydia Lunch’s Queen of Siam, and Dagmar-led Henry Cow, except a more minimalistic and synth heavy. 

Okay, okay, I’ve been pretty hard on this lady, but it’s not all bad. This album opens with a brilliant post punk take on Indian music. It’s pretty brilliant and i have never heard a mashing of post punk style guitars and indian classical music, all wrapped up in a catchy pop structure. Kudos. Also, throughout the rest of the album there are interesting textures here and there. The odd bottom basement synth will stumble on some cool sound or the odd guitar or sax will play something else interesting. But these pieces are few and far between, and I’d be lying to you if I didn’t tell you that each time i listened to this, I was constantly checking how many songs were left, and wishing there were fewer. That’s especially damning considering this record is only 35 minutes long. 

So in other words. This is great high @ur(T). I just wish this record came with a performance art piece featuring excrement, nudity, and a condemnation of Bosnian war crimes.  A+ will use at future parties to intimidate hipsters. Animal Collective? That’s cute. Come back when you listen to real @ur(T) like Danielle Dax.

SATURNUS - Paradise Belongs to You (1996)

Review by: Alex Alex
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

Melodic death metal is Chinese food. Expectantly despised by the would-have-been-there French aristocracy, infinitely delayed at the virtual reality airports, chased by the steampunks for the non-compliance to The Outdated, it stays to satisfy the capitalistic black-hole-like greed. Manufactured as everything Made in China - impossible to have been manufactured if we didn’t dimly know the ‘true’ China history. But dimly only.

As long as there are two slices of bread, anything in between is welcomed to join the already created sandwich. There is no real criticism or, rather, it exists in the unimportant only. The dichotomy, known since none of us remembers when, serves as the cement – denying itself in the process – simplifying in the false way. Young creatures see the world in double, as if drunk from having consumed too much of what does not really belong to them, which is their own youth.

Hamburgers are made by the older for the younger. But not Vincent Price old, young enough to despise whatever the fillings are – the “true” seafood, the “greek” cheese, even simpler, the “village” chicken. That never denies the chicken so they are always present on farms, ready to be consumed. Or, without an object at all, “as if back in those years”. Sad, melodic. As if “back then, don’t remember when”. As if Paradise.

Then growl. Sweet and spicy. When we are in the opera we, unlike our grand grand grand grand grand grand not really that grand but grand grand fathers, never believe we are. But in dichotomy we do believe as in any telephone number. The solos are empty, the “contrast” is non-existent except for the contrast between 1 and 0. A melodic death metal ends immediately. It is not a premature ending. It is the things which do not immediately end, those thing end prematurely.

This album lasts long enough to be able to pretend that it says something about Paradise. It’s an outright lie. Paradise is an instant and that instant lies in the past. You are very lucky if you believe any Paradise stories. It means you are yet to see the Paradise itself.

EDAN - Beauty and the Beat (2005)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Eric Pember

There are many types of disappointing albums. There is the kind that the hype machine has made the album’s reputation grow to monstrous proportions, to the point where anything but the second coming of Pet Sounds would leave you feeling underwhelmed. This is particular popular with the website Pitchfork and their numerous flavors of the month. Then there is the aggravated form of this phenomenon, where it's not just some hipster journal trying to suck your eyeballs for attention, but from the grand whole of western music criticism. This album is the greatest ever says every learned soul in all of the rock ‘n’ roll journals, but you stumble upon it and it just leaves you flat. I've experienced this with many sacred cows like Who's Quadrophenia or Who's Tommy. In fact most of Who's catalogue. Then there is a band who you held in high regard, whose last album really lit a fire in your soul and you are just on pins and needles waiting for that next musical hit. Then they release it and … Oooo boy, is it not as good. Hell, it might even be a good record analyzed by it's mere lonesome but compared to that last masterstroke it might as well be nickleback. Pretty much the totality of the Rolling Stone's post Exile records fit into this category, because lets face it, it's only rock n' roll and not perfection.

And then there is something different, an album that isn't bad at all, nor is it of a lesser quality then it’s predecessor. No, the album is so good, so genius, so phenomenal that it's very existence taints other albums in it's genre. It's not disappointing, it just makes all of its competitors disappoint in comparison. Edan's Beauty and the Beat is one such example of this phenomenon I've listened to a multitude of classic hip hop masterpieces, and yes, many of them were good, but none of them hit that sweet spot that Beauty and the Beat hit. Why? Because this record is exceptional in production, lyrics and form.

One click in any musical encyclopedia will mention that this is a psychedelic hip hop record. That alone makes it unique. Now a multitude of hip hoppers may make the odd trippy song or make an ode to a non alcohol/weed/codeine substance (ex. D-12's Purple Pills), but these were one off tracks and generally the artist got back to the business at hand,whether it be bravado or tales of ghetto living. Beauty and Beat on the other hand, drips lysergia from every pore, especially in regard to its production. 

Edan is an excellent DJ, you can just feel how long he scoured record store crates. searching for obscure samples to use on this record, and boy did he hit a main vein. He pillages the rubble of '60s psychedelia to fill this album with psychedelic nuggets. As a huge fan of 60's psychedelia, I've always been delighted when I find a song that Edan has sampled on this record and so far I've only found two, which are Music Machine's Hey, Joe and Pretty Thing's Wall of Destiny, featured on Making Planets and Murder Mystery respectively. That’s quite an impressive feat considering the amount of obscure psychedelia on my hard drive.

Edan doesn't just let the obscure samples do the majority of the work, like say a NWA's Express Your Self type jam. No, he expertly blends, manipulates, and adds effects to these tracks. There are weird lazer beams, bubbling cauldrons, backmasked orchestras and god knows what else. All painstakingly gathered to inflame your brain's novelty centers.. Every note, every sample, sounds just perfectly placed in it's surreal beauty and it all leads to one mesmerizing whole. Each track progresses into the next making the albums feel less like a mixtape and more like a singular piece, a psychedelic suite of hip hop perfection.

Though the production of this album is phenomenal, this isn't just some DJ Shadow style record, No this is rap music and Edan is a MC as well. Now his flow is not the best, but compared to the epitome of producer turned MC, Kanye West, he's a goddamn Biggie Smalls. His style is that of an urban white kid with an abstract flair, like a streetwise kid that went to art school. It's pretty decent, but I feel his collaborators steal the show on their tracks. For example, on Torture Chamber, Percee P spits a frenetic, terrifying ode to his rap prowess, comparing his rhymes to the heinous murders of famous serial killers. It's fantastic in conveying menace in a psychedelic stream of cruel consciousness, like he's the rap Charles Manson.

Though this record does make use of the typical subject matter of hip hop like Percee P's torturous rap bravado, it tackles something I've not heard in hip hop before. It uses poetry to elucidate the psychedelic experience. It reminds me of this sample off this psytrance track, about the mysterious ancient Indian Drug Soma. The sample states, “Soma is not really a plant. Poetry is not really language. Soma is poetry.” or as Edan puts it. “I use pens like hallucinogenics, so who can pretend my music isn't a beautiful thing.” Let's use the track Murder Mystery as an example of this beautiful thing. In it Edan uses the hazy dark psychedelic Pretty Things sample to rhyme abstractly. A sample of his verse reads,

        Pour the hourglass sand in the rusted tin can

        The looking glass man dressed in robes from Japan

        The chauffeur of the van with the globe in his hand

        The roller coaster lands in the ocean


        Alas, the commotion is matched by the force of the splash

        The source of the blast was a porcelain gat

I have no idea what any of that means but it's sounds magnificent. It's a collection of beautiful surreal imagery, that leads your mind in novel and strange corridors, making you feel like those hallucinogenic pens are beginning to take hold. This abstract imagery is not unheard of in rock (The girl with the kaleidoscope eyes, etc), but I've yet to hear anything like this on a rap record. Well, at least in a psychedelic sense, Ol' Dirty Bastard does seem to convey what I think crack cocaine would be like, but I digress.

The last point I'd like to make is that this album is a brief 39 minutes long, with not a single duff track or lame skit. I can't think of a single one of my other favorite hip hop records that pull off that feat. Biggie's Ready to Die has that lame sex skit. Dr Dre's 2001 has all those songs that aren't The Next Episode and Forgot about Dre. Hell, even albums that have no bad tracks like say Enter the 36 chambers, go on a bit too long. This record is a sweet 39 minutes and frankly always leads you wanting more.

Edan's Beauty and the Beat is disappointing in this regard. Edan has yet to make another LP. Yeah, he made a mix of oldschool hip hop tracks (reimagined Edan style) in 2009, but he's yet to make a proper LP. It's disappointing, cause the things I would do for some more Edan, but perhaps it's for the best. It's better to leave with a bang than make a mediocre sequel. Though, honestly, in these 11 years, I've hungered for some goats head soup. Oh well, I guess i'll just have to endure with whatever hip hop Quadrophenia Kanye's cooked up as of late. Pitchfork said it was great, so I know I won't be disappointed.

THE MASTER'S APPRENTICES - A Toast to Panama Red (1972)

Review by: Dinar Khayrutdinov
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

It’s 1972, and an Australian band called The Master’s Apprentices fully justifies its name by releasing this album that sounds like a bit of everything from that era – a bit of prog, a bit of hard-rock, a bit of folk-pop, a bit of late 60s psychedelia… Atomic Rooster meets Black Sabbath meets Caravan meets Blue Oyster Cult? Yes, that would pretty much sum up what A Toast to Panama Red sounds like. Don’t get me wrong – these guys were obviously talented and could even come up with some catchy hooks (the chanting coda that closes “Beneath the Sun”), some cool hard-rock riffs (“The Lesson So Listen”), several fine bluesy guitar solos (“Southern Cross”), some “medieval-style” acoustic strumming here and there, plus they could definitely play their instruments really well, but… There is still something missing in all of this, and this something is called originality.

Indeed, there are few things on this album that you haven’t heard before if you’re familiar enough with all the rock and prog classics from the 1967-1972 era. It is pretty much the definition of “by the book” hard/prog rock. The worst offenders are, of course, passages that bear a bit too much resemblance to Black Sabbath (see the beginning of “Games We Play I”). Other tracks – such as “Melodies of St. Kilda” may not strike you as much with “this is clearly a rip-off of this” kind of feeling, but instead they sound like a bunch of influences thrown in a melting pot with only a half-assed attempt at weaving them together into actual songs.

Yeah, songwriting is another weak point of the album, as most of these tracks feel half-baked, and the sudden instrumental solos in the middle of the songs certainly don’t help – they are good on their own but they break the flow of these songs, ultimately messing them up and leading them nowhere.

However, this isn’t such a murky mess of an album as my above evaluation of it would make you believe. There are still a couple of good songs – the ones where everything worked, seemingly against the odds. “Love Is” is a great psychedelic anthem that’s catchy, memorable, well-constructed and bombastic without being too cheesy. The background horns appearing in the chorus midway through the song are a very nice touch, too. Another one that really worked for me was the album closer – “Thyme to Rhyme”. This one is all about production – that amazing acoustic guitar tone and all the bleeping and whistling sounds in the background create a unique psychedelic atmosphere. These two songs are where the Apprentices become the Masters for a short while, and, of course, if the whole album was like this, it would be a great lost gem of the classic rock era. As it is, though, it’s a very flawed and rather derivative but occasionally interesting historic artifact.

P.S.: After completing this review, I look at the title of the album again and realize that they are saluting to a cultivar of cannabis… HEY, MAYBE THAT IS THE KEY TO ENJOYING THIS RECORD! I guess I’ll have to get some hemp then, and listen again, and write a proper review... See you then, I guess.

HELPER - Watch the Stove (2016)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Michael Strait

It’s a five song novelty trap mixtape. Does that sound good to you? Then get it, but to my ears it sounds pointless. The raps all have that generic choppy trap flow and the production is as generic as the flow. The joke is a half smile at best and not that original in the larger hip hop scene (the entirety of the Fat Boys career immediately comes to mind). Though the majority of this record stays in generic trap, one track in particular goes against the grain and that’s “Food for Your Soul” which is straight Nujabes worship i.e. jazzy background hip hop. The flow is pretty great on that track, though completely like every MC Nujabes had ever used. 

In summation, if you want food themed hip hop just get mm… Food by MF Doom. If you want Novelty food hip hop get a Fat Boys greatest hits. If you want trap get a Future record. If you want jazzy background hip hop get a Nujabes record. If you can’t wait till Weird Al Yankovic tackles trap, run, don’t walk to Helper’s Watch the Stove. 

DEAD MEADOW - Dead Meadow (2005)

Review by: A. A.
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

Dirty stoner rock riffs; dazed, far-out, almost wispy vocals drowned in the haze and standing in contrast to all the mucky fuzz; and slow, loosened up drumming. This is the formula Dead Meadow keep using on their eponymous opus. Now, stoner rock and doom metal are the kind of music I used to be hugely into in my youth and evaluating this album for the review brings back old memories of being a Seeker of the Riff ™, though this is hardly the kind of music I listen to anymore.

We start off with a quiet buzz on “Sleepy Silver Door” that leads into a monstrous riff and eventually progresses into one hell of a slow jam, whereas “Indian Bones”' heavy psych indulgences evoke in me images of a stoned out shaman doing his voodoo in front of a fire and inhaling as much the pot smoke as the noxious fire smoke. “Dragonfly” has a somewhat post-rocky ambiance backed by repetitive drum beats.

The next track, “Lady”, reminds me a bit of Manfred Mann Chapter 3's “Travelling Lady”, except that, of course, there are no trumpets or jazz influences here. “Greensky Greenslade” is full of slow doomy blues playing and conjures an atmosphere of early morning rain. “Beyond the Fields We Know” is probably the standout track for me. If the album is soundtrack to a rolling-out-the-joints session (as stoner albums usually are), this might well be the high point of the whole trip. “At The Edge of the Wood” has folksy acoustic beginnings, and pretty much qualifies for a troubadour ballad. “Rocky Mountain High” features some kind of spacey synths towards an end that gets kind of slightly terrifying at least the first time you listen to it. The ending track simply named “Untitled” is mostly an anthemic guitar tune and clocks a short two minutes span, ending quietly without making any fuss.

There's variation, certainly, although the overall sound does not go through any drastic changes. The riffs are interesting and the blues excursions quite lively. The drumming is laid back and relaxedly precise. In fact, the entire album is permeated with certain tranquility, as if not especially or excessively concerned about breaking any new ground but simply about doing a good job at recreating the good old stoner psych formulae with some indications of an individualistic sound. Hey, this is stoner rock after all!

MARK HOLLIS - Mark Hollis (1998)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Jonathan Birch

There are certain albums that require few listens. Generally when an album is manufactured for mass consumption, one listen is enough. There’s the pop hook, do I enjoy it? repeat for twelve songs. The more good hooks, the better the album is, post grade accordingly. Then, there are albums that just DEMAND you listen to them over and over again, and this is one of those albums. 

On first listen this album, is shrouded by a thick fog of pretentious melancholy. Any and all messages besides, “I’m a serious artist and I’m depressed” are just blocked out. After the first listen I dreaded coming back to the sad slow art album, but I continued. The more I listened to it, the more it unraveled and I felt I could maybe pierce through it and finally grasp something. What little I’ve grasped feels a melancholy singer songwriter album with a bit of avant garde jazz thrown in. Essentially, a mixture of Nick Drake and star sailor era Tim Buckley.

Now I enjoy Nick Drake, but can understand the criticism that he’s not exactly an excellent song writer, that he is too focused on mood instead of melody. Compared to Mark Hollis, he’s a god damned Paul McCartney. These songs are just all mood and that mood is sad, sad, sad. It really is a one note album and even the tiny bits of cacophonous jazz scronking is muffled and never really shakes off the strummed sad artist vibe. 

With that said, I’m about 12 listens in and yet, every listen I feel like there is something more to it. This nagging feeling that this might be some secret masterpiece of super serious sad songwriter albums, Perhaps, I haven’t truly pierced the shroud of pretentious art, and have instead just become entranced with its mystery. Perhaps, by the 25th listen this album will usurp Love’s Forever Changes as my favorite sad arty records. 

Though somehow I doubt it. I just can't see myself coming back to these moody dirges for enjoyment. I’m a musical simpleton in that regard. I need some catchy melodies with my grand statements. So I feel my mind will forever waffle between secret depression masterpiece and too pretentious for its own good art record. Perhaps, your mind is better equipped for such an activity, but for me, I’m just going to shuffle this record away to the land of well crafted albums that I don’t ever want to listen to again.

DAVID BOWIE - Diamond Dogs (1974)

Review by: Viudas Tormo
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

I’m proposing to my girlfriend these days. Running wild to have a diamond for her on time. Erasing any chances of making a serious review of this album.

She doesn’t know, so this words will not be shown to her (making all of this pointless, as that was the whole reason why I got into this review-making business in the first place).

The situation is quite ironic, as you could perfectly argue that I am a bloody Diamond Dog right now, and this reinforces the iconic role of partners in this review club, suckers of time.

Being the diamond dog that I am (young girl, they call me that), I naturally liked this album.

Somehow interesting statements that I feel inclined to make: Bowie had mastered his more Rollings-like sound in the opening track, and I can see the founding bases of punk in others. Well, the whole record is something that could be based on the Mad Max universe. 

Additionally, Mike Garson keeps embellishing tremendously every song in which he participates. 

Wait, I said that I liked this album? I was a little excited about my connection to the title, but well, I would like to clarify that this album is in no way at the same height of brilliance as in Bowie’s previous (or future) efforts.

Regardless, “Rebel Rebel” is a classic Bowie tune and has one of the catchiest guitar riffs of the last century. Or every other century, really. Guitar riffs were not very popular in the Renaissance.

HAROLD MELVIN & THE BLUE NOTES - Wake Up Everybody (1975)

Review by: Syd Spence
Album assigned by: Lex Alfonso

Ah just look at that gorgeous album cover with its proud nubian earth warrior! He’s ready to defend the beauty of nature. He’s not gonna take no guff from any big polluter. No, he’s going to fight for you and me and all of us here on this pale blue dot. WHAT A GREAT COVER! 

Naturally when I first set my eyes on this beaut, my mouth instantly started salivating. I was certain this album was going to be some psychedelic soul like Undisputed Truth or Funkadelic. I mean how could it not, when it features a jolly green giant with a flower in its afro??? So I was really disappointed when I put this on and got really overorchestrated pop soul, that was so damn prevalent in the mid 70s. WHY THE HELL didn’t they just get Harold Melvin in a dapper suit, sweating next to microphone? Are you telling me there were more Funkadelic fans than Isaac Hayes fans in 1975??? 

Anyways, the music is overproduced with all these tacky hollywood strings which make the whole thing sappy as all hell. WHERE IS THE RHYTHM IN THIS ‘R’N’B? If i wanted Disney music, I’d put on the Mary Poppins soundtrack and not a soul record. Though, with that said, this album does have one all-time classic on it, which is “Don’t Leave Me This Way”. If you are at all a fan of Western media, I guarantee you’ve heard this track in some movie somewhere, but I guarantee you’ve only heard the chorus and not the totallity of its six minutes. It begins with this haunting electric piano and then Harold (what kind of soul singer keeps Harold Melvin as his stage name???) starts pleading slowly and then BAM, we get to the galloping disco chorus where Harold goes "AH BABY MY HEART IS FULL OF LOVE….” It’s pretty orgasmic. It’s a shame the rest of this album doesn’t have that soul-disco awesome going on. 

Overall you should probably skip this record and get Harold’s greatest hits or maybe a movie soundtrack that features “Don’t Leave Me This Way”. 

2 8 1 4 - 新しい日の誕生 (Birth of a New Day) (2015)

Review by: Nina A.
Album assigned by: Syd Spence

"A collaboration between Vaporwave producers Hong Kong Express and t e l e p a t h テレパシー能力者, ２８１４ is a project that creates cyberpunk-esque, dystopian yet psychedelic and relaxing ambient soundscapes. Drifting off into a daydream is hard to avoid as each track flawlessly flows into another, each with its own unique atmosphere." says a description of this record on youtube. Yeah, well...

… Well, let's look at what we have here. "Birth of a New Day" may be a vapourwave cyberwhatever something but to the untrained ear it basically contains about three varieties of soundscapes. The opening track, Recovery, is more hustly-bustly than most of the others, and I'd go as far as guess that this is not yet the birth of a new day but the conclusion of the old day. And if visions of a late-night timelapse of a busy Asian city play in my mind, it is mostly because this is what is vaguely advertised on the cover. Oh and because of the sirens and traffic noises. Obviously.

The second track is called "Distant Lovers" but it more reminds me of that background music they play in a planetarium while a someone with a pleasant voice and excellent diction asks rhetorically whether we are alone in the universe. So what kind of distance are we talking about here? Is this a metaphor? Are aliens our distant lovers? I don't know. I also don't know whether I have accidentally started listening to F♯ A♯ ∞, so this is your second type of soundscape - a F♯ A♯ ∞ urban dreamscape soundalike, possibly with some public transport samples thrown in for good measure.

And already the following track "Shinjuku Golden Street" displays the third type of soundscape we have on this album, which I have decided to call "the sophisticated urban teahouse / art shop background music". Seriously, the samples are the same. And the percussion. I've heard this thing in a fancy teahouse in Sofia around 2005, I am sure of it. Well, okay, maybe the dreamy psychedelic and relaxing ambient soundscape was slightly less layered and therefore less psychedelic but the essence is surely the same.

Halfway through the album I start thinking of a quote from one of Isaac Asimov's apparently lesser known novels - "The End of Eternity" - in which Noÿs adjusts "the controls of a musical instrument that played soft and complicated strains out of its own creative bowels by striking notes and chords in a random manner: the randomness weighted in favor of pleasant combinations by intricate mathematical formulae. The music could no more repeat itself than could snowflakes, and could no more fail of beauty." Now obviously this sounds like a bit of an overreach even if we assume that the advanced science of the future can make it possible but it does outline what I feel about the music on this record here: I am sure that this beauty has been arrived at by meticulously planning out and expertly timing sounds and samples, in other words, a considerable artistic effort. But why then is a fleeting moment of human warmth ultimately destroyed in my mind by the following rote sampled sound? 

But let me quote another thought I found in the youtube comments (by someone writing as timeparadox888): "The night train back from work. You look at the passengers around you. A man covered head to toe in mechanical body modifications sits to your left, fiddling with a display set into the flesh on his forearm. To your right, an anxious extraterrestrial, its antennae curled back in discomfort at the heavy scent of humanity filling the air. Across the aisle, a wide-eyed child of indeterminate gender watches intensely as the sleek blue android next to them polishes its own detached leg. And holding the child's hand, an old woman, modestly dressed with an unaltered figure, appearing, in general, out of place in her surroundings. She peers straight ahead at nothing in particular, her face fixed in an expression of longing. You put on your headphones."

So apparently this music is capable of inducing tumblr-feels in some people. You know how I know? Well, this person used a descriptive sentence without a verb, a ton of superfluous but evocative adjectives, some annoyingly overused keywords, and decided to address some unspecified "you". I personally give up on any implication that futuristic would have to mean bodies with machine implants and extraterrestrials with antennae.

Meanwhile, the three types of soundscape that I've outlined above have flawlessly flowed into each other more than once and we're back to a hustle-bustlier sound for the birth of a new day, that seems to in this case get born as gradually and in as a gracefully uneventful fashion as the way in which the sun makes its ascent into the sky each morning.

And the reason I quoted other people so much in this review is that I have nothing in particular to say about this predictably pleasant and pleasantly predictable electrofest. Apart from the fact that letterspacing latin lowercase characters and numbers is kinda pretentious.