DEREK BAILEY with MIN TANAKA - Music and Dance (1997)

Review by: Dinar Khayrutdinov
Album assigned by: Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

‘Music and Dance’, this one is called, and it isn’t a lie – there is music and there is dancing on this record. So, it must be some groovy stuff to get your ass moving then, something like Boney M or KC and the Sunshine Band, right? Wrong. Indeed this is music with dance, but both of these art forms are pushed to the very limits of their conventions (or maybe even beyond that). Or, let me translate the previous sentence to English: this album is basically 53 minutes of one guy drawing out weirdest possible sounds out of his guitar and another guy stomping on the floor and occasionally panting (cause that’s what dancing on an audio record sounds like, if you were curious). However, let’s get to basic facts.

Derek Bailey is an avant-garde guitar player who is considered the leading figure of the free improvisation movement, which basically means there is absolutely no logic and rules to the way he plays his guitar beyond the logic and rules he puts in it himself. On this album he is joined by Japanese dancer Min Tanaka, who does with his body what Bailey does with his guitar, meaning that he also breaks all possible conventions and just dances the way he thinks (or feels) appropriate.

And… this is probably all you need to know. The rest is there, on this record – Derek plucking the living hell out of his guitar, making it scream, squeak, shriek, creak and even meow, and Min dancing (yes, it’s him on the album cover, stark naked and pummeling against a wall). The other sounds present are the raindrops drumming on the roof (which is why the first five tracks are called Rain Dance), some outside sounds like passing cars and random noises, and coughs from the audience. And nothing more! So, looks like there is every reason to dismiss this album as a bunch of pretentious crap, as about an hour of nothing pretending to be something, if not for one thing. IT SOMEHOW WORKS.

This album is hypnotic, atmospheric and mysterious, and the utterly minimalistic sound collage it creates has some twisted brilliance about it. On repeated listens I began noticing that even the seemingly random sounds (like rain tapping against the roof) play an important part in the whole experience – Bailey actually utilizes every foreign sound and makes it his own. If you listen carefully, you begin hearing strange patterns in the dissonant sounds of the guitar, and you wonder whether these patterns were intended by the musician or they just formed by coincidence, with the help of your imagination. Speaking of which, this is one record that tickles with the listener’s imagination a lot. The whole “let’s leave the mic on and record everything” thing does make it incredibly atmospheric, which means it is very easy to picture everything in clear detail (yes, that’s why the dancing actually works here). First you see the guitar guy and the weird nude dancer in the small studio and the rain behind the window, then the guitar sounds become more and more dense and frantic, and you start seeing things beyond that – stars falling, Earth turning around its axis, weird alien creatures on distant planets or whatever else your imagination allows you to see. So, in the end, does it really matter whether this sounds like ‘normal’ music and dance or not? For me it doesn’t, because whatever it is, it took me places I’ve never been to.

SEEN LIVE: VASKO VASSILEV - Concert in Sofia (29/02/2016)

Review by: Nina A.

picture by 3 i n S p i r i t

It is interesting and perhaps very cool that in the year 2016 a classical violinist (a performing classical violinist, not just a classically trained one) can be considered as something of a rock star. Sure, the cult status of the first Concert Master of the Royal Opera House (joined in 1993) helps and a season as a judge on the Bulgarian X factor has made Vasko Vassilev a bit more well-known to the general public in his native country (which he now, obviously, rarely visits) but still - a large sports arena, the largest indoors venue in Sofia - was filled to the very brim of its capacity on the night of February 2016 and the expectation of something special and truly unique is, well, if not tangible, then at least quite apparent.

Vasko Vasilev has risen to fame internationally not quite by chance - he is an excellent musician. Talent and passion go without saying, of course, and we do love to hear him play but I am sure the audience was expecting not only some virtuoso playing but also an interesting production and one suitable in scale and ambition for the big sporting venue Arena Armeec.

Which is, broadly speaking, what we got.

The performance opened on a grand scale indeed - an epic reworking of the opera Turandot of the variation "Turandot in 15 minutes" complete with a brief but dramatically read synopsis courtesy to Pamela Nicholson (dressed for this occasion as a true oriental princess) and drums and electric guitars. The delightful and intelligent and somewhat rocking arrangements suited the epic story of prince Calaf and the unattainable princess Turandot.

Next up came what Vasko had promised and had come to do - play Paganini in front of 12 000 people in Sofia. The famously difficult solo work for violin Caprice No 24 by Paganini showcased the virtuosity of his playing and also served as the most intimate moment of the whole evening.

Two more operas Madama Butterfly and Carmen got the same concise reworking treatment, which I was later informed was a new project for Vasko Vassilev and his crew - introducing Japanese people to Opera in an engaging way, because this artform is apparently not popular there.

The highlight solo arias of each opera were, of course, reserved for Vasko's violin, while the choir competently provided some of the more memorable lyrical moments and served to establish the theatricality and sense of drama that are so important for the operatic artform.

The rest of the evening saw a variety of performances and a host of guests - from boogie woogie pianist Keito Saito to the musicians from Chambao, who performed some of Paco de Lucía's pieces together with Vasko. Iana Salenko (from StaatsBallett Berlin) and Steven McRae (from the Royal Ballet) provided dance interpretation to Libertango, Le Cygne (from The Carnival of the Animals) and the now signature Czárdás collaboration.

Perhaps more remarkable than the performances themselves was, however, the ecstatic reception by the public. The applause rivaled the one you'd expect at a high profile rock concert and the audience clearly hung on every note and every word that Vasko spoke between set numbers. It is commendable that he managed to put together such a production for the audience of his native country, and it is significant not only because we have some sort of a duty to keep the general public interested in the "dying inaccessible art of classical music and opera" but because talent, a great vision and some daring can keep an audience invested and perhaps even produce a cathartic effect by the end of the evening, and when music does that, I am all up for that.

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MACINTOSH PLUS - Floral Shoppe (2011)

Review by: Alex Alex
Album assigned by: Tom Hadrian Kovalevsky

In the young days of capitalism, I imagine, a pioneer capitalist, a Steve Jobs of the time, entered a castle after a castle and bought them, a technique totally unknown at that time because he had nothing as opposed to all the reality the castle owners had in the form of the servants, the paintings and the ghosts - and yet all that reality could be condensed into a pitiful handful of round golden, or later not so golden, or, even later, not as much round as rectangular, objects that carried no human nature in them but could easily absorb one.

I imagine a language in which “I have” can be totally omitted from any sentence. However dazzling at first, having passed a pre-intermediate level exam we firmly understand that “I got me a Macintosh Plus computer” is both an attack and a defense, a means of buying the castle by the owner herself to keep everybody out and to be ahead of time forever.

Alas, here's the problem of cyberpunk – it is not an art of the future, neither it is a commentary on the present (for art can not be a commentary, sports are) but a pitiful attempt not to sell, not to sell by keeping “I have” visible, paradoxically, by hiding it, as if “I have” does not mean “I have acquired from what little was there before”. The “Gravity's Rainbow” is a badly written book but it resembles a book so very much, being ten times thicker than your average one, the lady got herself a Macintosh Plus so, please, do not attempt to rob her of her belongings in a dark corner of a newly erected Berlin Wall.

Belongings all belong to an airplane crash scene. While flying we are free to choose the music to hear from the selection given. We are free (especially those who fly often and, which might be less evident, by the same airlines) to realize that the selection given is given to us for reasons other than we first thought they were. The people who do not fly, however, do not give a shit about random Japanese characters with which the on-board safety instructions are written (just to make the aircraft passengers think they can be safe once they manage to translate what's written, for they do not know it's not real Japanese, to keep them busy till their deaths,  that is). Those people who do not fly, they stand in the field with their mad dogs and their idols of Satanic nature watching the next airplane crashing and they will not be chasing for the remnants of Macintosh Plus computers but will be EATING ALIVE IN THE NAME OF SATAN THOSE WHO HAVE SURVIVED THE PLANE CRASH.

ELEFANTE - El Que Busca Encuentra (2001)

Review by: Charly Saenz
Album assigned by: Jonathan Birch

God knows (and probably my neighbours, when I swear from my window during their “patio parties”) that I’m not really into Latin melodic pop. There’s a fine line between that and the total disaster of radio-friendly artists which I won’t even mention. In that sense, this record has been a challenge. Fortunately there’s quite good taste and musicianship here (a great guitar work, in fact). So what’s not to like? Well the forced latin-vibe and some extra cheese melodic attempts like “Gordito Tracks” or “Milagro de Amor”, or “Asi Es La Vida” (or “Amores prohibidos”) don’t work for me.

On the other hand there’s stuff which is very good pop, like “De la noche a la mañana”, a perfect song, with Bunbury vocals and the right amount of romanticism, full of hooks and classic tones. Or “Vamos” which screams Los Heroes del Silencio to me as well (and that is always good of course). “Sin Pedir Cuentas” is more rocking, and has a nice break in the middle. Of all the romantic stuff, maybe “La Que Se Fue” is the one that stands out, to my personal concern I can’t help but fall for it, it’s some kind of cheese that you can’t avoid and the guitars and keyboards are really tasty, once more.

In summary a record that is not offending to my ears which is much to say, considering it’s on the border: I’d happily listen to this on the radio instead of that crappy Arjona guy. Geez I promised I wouldn’t mention him. Well, promises are not made to keep.

CROSS RECORD - Wabi-Sabi (2016)

Review by: Eric Pember
Album assigned by: Dinar Khayrutdinov

This album is a descendent of the Mazzy Star vibe. If you know that band, you pretty much know what this album sounds like. The record kinda bored me at first, but started gripping itself into me about midway through. I’m not sure how often I’ll come back to this, but it’s worth having in the collection.

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”. 

VIRUS - Agujero interior (1983)

Review by: Nina A.

Album assigned by: Justo Barreto

With a name that makes me feel unclean and a bang of 80s synths and a rockabilly rhythm, Argentina's Virus make their entrance on their third album - Agujero interior, which apparently translates as inner hole. Contrary to what the band and album names might lead you to expect, the album sounds as cute and as synth-laden as any early 80s offering - with the appropriate amount of hooks here and there and the correct vocal aesthetic on part of the vocalist Federico Moura. Almost everyone on the credits list, in fact, is called either Moura or Serra, and I have to say there is that vague warm and familiar feeling about this record - whether it stems from this band being the local town heroes or indeed a very nice tight-knit family. 

Even so, this record doesn't really explore the depths of human emotion (or at least it doesn't musically sound like it does) and doesn't appear to challenge the listener too much artistically. Among the moderately quirky up-tempo rockers of the first half and the mid-tempo rockers of the second half, the gentler almost-ballad "¿Qué hago en Manila?" stands out, and as far as I was able to ascertain it deals with the usual subject matter of gentler ballads - being in love, falling in love or looking for love, or indeed sighing about love. 

In the end, I'll confess to you that most of the rest of the songs on this album I can do with or without, but I do indeed appreciate the nice qualities of the song "¿Qué hago en Manila?" (the original recipe "¿Qué hago en Manila?" that comes forth on the track list rather than the estrade-suitable karaoke version which serves as an album closer), even if this makes me a generic mushy.