Tales from the Attic
Volume LXIV
Revolutions of a 45 and 33 kind…..
More early year moments……
This edition features sonic lovelies from……
Ilona v, max kinghorn mills, chemistry set, golly mccry, simon passmore, tula, white hills, husky rescue, nev cottee, happiness, sufjan stevens, flying vinyl, rob bravery, go team, grrlpal, my friend in exile, nat harvest, simple minds, les limbes, round eye, Klaus mortlock, midwich youth club, schizo fun addict, crystal Jacqueline, Claudio cataldi, zx+, cary grace, crawlin hex, jay Tausig, vert:X, magic mushroom band, todd Dillingham, rob gould, vostock, blue giant zeta puppies, mystery crystals, telephones
Ridiculously up close and personal not to mention adorably chiselled and acutely cut with the kind of jagged effervescent punch you out immediacy of the type that sets pulses racing and the cause of much swooning in the aisles, this is the trailer track from Nai Harvest’s forthcoming sonic paint bomb ‘hairball’. A sub three minute rollercoaster rush of drilled down frenetic shock pop so infectious it ought to come pre-packed with jabs whilst dragging with it hooks by the shedload, dollops of day-glo daubing and a touching of the brittle melodic mayhem that once upon a time attached to the celebrated grooves of platters squirreled out by Ned’s Atomic Dustbin not to mention so frantic, energetic and frenetic you fear it may spontaneously combust before hitting the end grooving. The track incidentally is entitled ‘sick on my heart’ and both it and the aforementioned album are due for record emporium counter fisticuffs shortly via topshelf records…..
In all fairness, perhaps call it embarrassment on our part, but the last time anything new by Simple Minds troubled our player was around the mid 80’s, I think in truth we were going through a not listening to chart bothering tunes phase, which has pretty much stayed with us ever since, aside that we’ve never stuck around or pinned allegiances to brands and bands and anyway by the time ‘Belfast child’ conquered all we were off in search of sounds anew. That said Simple Minds played a somewhat small role in our formative listening years, you’ll oft hear us using the term ‘ahead of the curve’ and for Kerr and Co it was a justified description, early releases revealed an artiness and a willingness to experiment fusing generic sound species that like-minded peers of their era avoided or lacked the verve to carry out. By and large sitting outside the usual synth sound camp (appealing to both admiring tribes of Joy Division and mark 1 Human League), Simple Minds offered a cooler proposition, their sounds abstract and oft perplexed by the avoidance of your usual verse chorus verse format, even in their earliest days despite their left of centre poise they still possessed enough pop nous to catch the passing ear lobe, even before ‘sister feelings call’ / ‘sons of fascination’ (all said our favourite set) had signposted their statement of intent the ensemble had tucked beneath their arms a formidable back catalogue of forward thinking albums totalling three. Why I mention all this is because there was a slight trepidation in finding looming large on our player a new single, ‘midnight walking’ be its name, revisiting old heroes has, on many numerous occasions, been a harrowing let down, and so you can probably understand the anxiety we faced, should we give it a try or just simply skip ahead and pretend we never saw it. Only curiosity got the better. With a new album lurking in the guise of ‘big music’, ‘midnight walking’ arrives buttressed upon corteges of lunar florets and hyper driving strobe light pulsars powered upon motorik turbos, the sound epic and panoramic comes clipped and framed in a glassy futuristic iciness to recall Swimmer One’s ‘psychogeography’ from 2010’s essential landmark full length ‘dead orchestras’ and dwells upon themes of movement and migration and with it alienation and disconnection, in some respects it is the best and worst, rather more the ‘new gold dream’ in decay and reaching saturation level, a mirror opposite to the idealistic hope that rushed and ushered through the brightly futuristic viewfinder that was ‘theme for great cities’.
We here are all over this like a rash, a quite frankly near perfect nugget from kraut kooled post rockian alchemists Les Limbes who hail from Bordeaux and are the latest invitees into Hidden Shoal’s enviable extended family. Alas we’ve momentarily lost sight of the press mail but we can assure you that this gridlocked grooving is entitled ‘hypersonic’ and comes boiled and curdled in all manner of tension, suspense and a degree of spy themed mystique that finds its ancestral lineage rooted on the Mancini / Barrry axis whilst circumventing the fiery sci-fi stratospheria gouging so admirably trademarked in recent times by the likes of Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet and Man..or Astro Man albeit as though atmospherically equipped with the kind of consuming wide screen density of an at the height of their powers Workhouse before heading rampaging full fury into the dark heart of Mugstar. https://soundcloud.com/leslimbes33
Be honest, a press release boasting ‘experimental freak punk from China’ – now I don’t know about you but to me that has to be worth a punt. Blighter damn well nearly melted our stereo and sent us flying off our listening perch. This is Round Eye who hail from Shanghai and who shortly will be sporting a self-titled debut full length via ripping records which if, by our reckoning, sounds anything like the teaser cut here (‘City livin’) ought to set tongues a wagging and heart rates a pounding. Absolutely mental stuff delivered at speeds where most surroundings either bend, warp or dissolve and all executed with such impishly chaotic verve that warrants persistent repeat listens. Freakishly all over the shop, ‘City livin’ is a car crash of reference points where you’ll find the insistent three chord throb of the Ramones routinely trashed and surreally turned on its head by the art pop derangement of the Cardiacs and then ransacked bagged and slung in day glo hot spin dryer and fried upon an audaciously pummelled white out oblivion that sounds like an at the edge speed freaking Supergrass with a hot poker up their collective back passage. More please. https://soundcloud.com/teamclermont/round-eye-city-livin?in=teamclermont/sets/team-clermont-2015-press
And now for something tasty from Klaus Morlock whose set ‘the bridmore lodge tapes’ you might well recall us mentioning a few months back on its way to a limited issue on reverb worship. More strangeness abound on their return for ‘the child garden’ is an aural photograph of a forgotten time in 1976 wherein macabre events are recalled during that years fiery summertime linked to the fabled happenings of the medieval cult in the 14th C. we’ve only had time to sample a selection of the sinister sweets on the table whilst we prepare to fire off begging missives for copies, but it’s the groove parting trio of suites that held our gaze and indeed our earlobes, upon these grooves a prettified arrangement carefully picked, bowed and tied to create a classic Hammer House brit horror bouquet where pastoral folk murmurs peppered in fluke florets waltz and idly dreamily, the lulling rustics of ‘Jennifer’s Ascension’ being as beautiful as things get here, wonderfully undulating as it ushers in a breathy wide open panoramic shot of rolling green valleys and picturesque sleepily wooded hideaways. Similarly no slouch in the affectionately demurred stakes ‘sweet willow’ – as brief as it may first appear – serves as a mellowing and meekly traced slice of fading elegance trimmed in elegiac keys flurries and hushed in melancholia leaving ‘goodnight, little one’ to see matters out amid a part haunting part seductive carousel of lunar lullaby lilts that weave in as though caught upon some fleeting ghost light which aside things ought to appeal to those well versed in all things both Goblin and early 70’s Argento / Fulci inspired filmic soundtracks. https://klausmorlock.bandcamp.com/album/the-child-garden
We’ve just sent forth quickly despatched missives to Allan Murphy for download links for these releases, so while we wait just a brief mention for a handful of weird and warped moments of fractured crookedness from off the workbench of Midwich Youth Club. Methinks he spoils us for here not one but three releases to whet the listening appetite with the release of 2 volumes of the ‘orphans from the electronic landfill’ collection – in essence a library trawl through the Midwich archives gathering together the more fried and left off centre impish sound sculptures from the dark side of Mr Murphy’s hard drive described as not fitting easily on his usual Soft Bodies sets. These neglected gems reveal a playful side to the Midwich persona, ‘inspector knickers’ (Volume 1) is pure radiophonic absurdia skittering around a sonic playroom that melds 70’s children’s TV caricatures and beaten around the edges goofed out mischief mosaics upon wonky and frazzled kaleidoscopic head kicks. On Volume 2 you’ll be greeted to the hilariously titled ‘the OAP disco dancing championships 1978’ which aside being liable to incur the onset of heart attacks and seizures on said elderly contestants had it been for real, captures perfectly a melodic microcosm of that vintage years kitsch meets disco vibe, all spacey and futuristic and by and large hinting Studio 54 winks in a Cerronne meets moroder frisky wig flipped funked out way. https://midwichyouthclub.bandcamp.com/album/orphans-from-the-electronic-landfill-vol-2 and https://midwichyouthclub.bandcamp.com/album/orphans-from-the-electronic-landfill-vol-1
those however preferring their Midwich Youth Club sounds a little less e number concentrated might do well to seek his rebranding of the Fall’s ‘what you need’ which all said sounds so deliciously irregular and disconnected not to mention etched with a touch of Devo ought to prick the earlobes of those much admiring of the frank and wobbly sons imprint, certainly one to file under the more skedaddled and schizoid, and just for the record, more damaged sections of your prized listening library. https://midwichyouthclub.bandcamp.com/track/what-you-need
Those early birds among you exchanging prized hard earned tender of the realm for copies of Cranium Pie’s weird haired opus ‘mechanisms (part 2)’ may well have found tucked inside your parcel a freebie copy of ‘strange fruit and veg’. Typified by the kind of bespoke care and attention we’ve come to expect and adore from fruits de mer, ‘strange fruit and veg’ is a gathering of 18 specially selected covers re-tweaked, rebranded and reframed, a host of forgotten nuggets affectionately reclaimed and rescued from pop’s lost corners by the celebrated mass ranks of FdM regulars along with some recent adoptees to the imprints ever growing extended family. The CD, as ever with these freebie adventures is ultra-limited and comes with its own table menu, the sounds within as always – guaranteed to flip wigs and redecorate your listening space in all manner of kaleidoscopically progressiveness that may depending on the serving induce beard growth or skinny jeaned floppy fringeness or both should the fancy take it. Now elsewhere in these hastily scribbled wordy things you might recall us having previously paid special attention to Schizo Fun Addict’s re-take of the Sorrows’ ‘take a heart’ (incidentally as cool as **** and sexy with it) – therefore one down seventeen to go. Crystal Jacqueline open matters with the vibrantly effervescent ‘all over the world’ – originally by Strange Fruit and here found shimmered in all manner mystical mirages and head spinning cosmicalic jubilance while topos locos opt for a spot of late 60’s strut grooved uber psych grooving for their re-enactment of big bird and the steam shovel’s wiry ‘what’s happening at the psychiatrist’. I’m certain we’ve mentioned Claudio Cataldi’s smoking cool bliss kissed cover of ‘here she comes now’ – this ‘un hazily glazed in fuzzed arabesque snake charms which in truth aren’t a million miles from the kind of mellowed mirages crafted by Cheval Sombre. Next up to the plate Trojan Horse’s utterly adorable lolloping lilt parading through ‘Ohio’ really has to be heard to be appreciated distilled as it in the finest prairie reclined moonshine mosaics whilst somewhere else we must admit to being mildly fond of ZX+ and their tripped out version of ‘she’s a rainbow’ here radiating a frazzled and acid fried intoxica fused with the finest essences of grade A English psychedelia. And so to the curiously named mauve la biche featuring Cary Grace who if I recall rightly last appeared in these pages courtesy of an appearance on that pre Xmas Floyd freak out – enough of that here they are doing all manner of woozily cosmic freakiness to Amon Duul II’s ‘archangel thunderbird’ and emerging out of the other side like an astral riding Rush – which before you all start issuing forth letters of complaint threatening various offers to remove limbs – is no bad thing. Now among the rock / pop great pantheon there are cornerstones – which – well how can I put this bluntly – are untouchable and are always guaranteed to end in tears if you fail to heed the warning. Bo Diddley’s ‘who do you love’ is one such ground zero moment, Juicy Lucy got away with it, so when the Crawlin Hex reared their collective heads above the parapet there was a momentary intake of breath and a slight feeling of unease. Needn’t have worried for these dudes apply some nifty voodoo grooving to their treatment which the dearly departed Lux Interior would have purred not least because it swamp drags the kind of mutant blues rock-a-hula that was the trademark of the Cramps though here found casting bad juju spells in an after-hours studio soiree with Mojo Nixon. Much admired around these here parts Jay Tausig goes all interstellar cosmic overlord for his version of Motorhead’s landmark ‘ace of spades’ and emerges t’other side of the lunar eclipse equipping it with a what if imagining of how it would sound in the hands of Lemmy’s former charges Hawkwind. And talking of Hawkwind….ah aural alchemists Vert:x have upon previous visitations to these pages been known to trip minds with their brand of musical hallucinogenia and ‘circles’ proves no exception, a krautian white out rippled in reality altering swirls which frankly in short all you need to know is that it has the head expanding side effects of a cosmic chemistry set. Now who would have thought 25 years ago that the purveyors of shroomed out weird ear chemical trance would later in life be mainlining t-rex into their shape shifting sonic tapestry, long adored around here Magic Mushroom Band go all prog majestic for what can only be described as a totally unexpected growl gouged big boots and big hair stomper surfacing as their brief but blistered groove call ‘kings of the rumbling spires’ while Todd Dillingham does a pretty out there and shit faced take of ‘hey Joe’ which ought to send re-collective tremors among those around first time of asking when the Butthole Surfers went rummaging through Donovan’s back catalogue. Not being the greatest fans of the Beatles, there’s always an air of ‘must we’ when one of their sort makes the occasional appearance on a compilation, and so on this occasion the honour goes to Rob Gould, stand up take a bow why don’t you sir for his version of ‘tomorrow never knows’ – admittedly one of the better moments from the mop top musical carousel – is a gloriously bonged out happening replete with hazy haloes of hypno grooved eastern drones which unless our ears do deceive slyly circle the kind of way out wooziness that a certain Mr Boom encapsulated in his Spectrum guise. We suggest you kick back a spell, clear your headspace of all the to do jumble of modern day life and simply let yourself go for the sumptuous six minute astral ride that is Vostok’s ‘Drome’ – one of three cuts on this compilation that are not covers at all, this babe in particular imagining some blissed out studio campfire summit visited upon by a seriously mellowed flying saucer attack and roy Montgomery. Award for best moment of the set skinning both the Schizo’s and Cataldi just is the green telescope’s frazzled freakbeat re-reading of ‘I’m a living sickness’ a darkly haunting slab of sparsely gouged groove dragged from the shadowy recesses of a mind warped by loss and rejection and no doubt copious amount of chemical additives the type of which you’d be hard pushed to find readily available at the local pharmacy counter, anyhow this cool dude comes curdled in a primitive framing of shimmering reverbs and a vintage garage beat hollowing. Now for the obligatory apologies corner, this time it’s the turn of the blue giant zeta puppies who a little while back sent over a physical copy of a download only EP that they are currently collectively sporting and which will be getting due care and attention in a day or two – so sorry lads for the oversight. For now here they appear here doing a pretty neat and smoking Link-esque slab of twanged out psychotropic futurama grooved in all manner of TV21 styled sci-fi-riffic swirls and mind warps which all said should appeal to those much missing of Man…or Astro Man. Wrapping up the set something a little schizoid and special with it. There’s always been a keenly tuned affection here for the squillions of cover versions of Barrett’s ‘vegetable man’ that have come our way over the years, of course the most noted being the Soft Boys, however that said the previously unknown to us mystery crystals come close to stealing the vote for their perilous step in to the light sucking psychosis cloud amasses and descends overloading the senses to fracture your headspace in the kind nightmarish trip from reality that one fears many space cadets will not return and if they do they’ll be frazzled imitations of their former selves. It’s no wonder that the other track featured on the set that isn’t a cover at all but the A side to an ultra-limited 7 inch by the Telephones, their debut as it happens which those of you who keep abreast of Keith FdM’s facebook postings will be all too aware he’s been raving about and no wonder because this sly eyed mellow toned gem stone is succulently dimpled in the kind of laid back groove that attached to the Soft Parade’s ‘nobody told you anything’ albeit as though here impishly recalibrated by a gathering ensemble made up of members of Stairs and the Wicked Whispers and then smokily draped upon a deliriously chilled and hypnotic Eastern piping. Drop dead gorgeous if you ask me which reminds me we’ve happened across a moving picture show of it – anyhow its out via heavy soul and backed by the spiffing ‘Amsterdam’.
And still with Fruits de Mer, it seems their planned label double heading Games for May extravaganza with mega dodo will be graced by two ultra-limited 7 inch releases exclusively available at the event (along with that previously mentioned Games for May 5 track 7 inch – a review of which you’ll find tagged at the end of this mention) – these being the long touted ‘momentary one’ and ‘momentary two’ outings. Only 300 of these babies of which 100 are being shared out among the artists involved with the remaining 200 up for grabs on attendance to this spring filled psyche soiree. All seven tracks featured on these two slabs of vinyl previously appeared on last year’s well received and much adored around here club members double disc freebie set ‘a momentary lapse of vinyl’ – an exhaustive feast that paid tribute to Barrett / Floyd. The selective criteria for these two volumes was it appears to prise together those tracks more readily associated and penned during the pre ‘Dark Side’ phase from a time when psychedelic pied piper Syd set the controls, the first of the two volumes gathering a femme fronted trio of beguiling delights. Ilona V opens proceedings with the quite sublime ‘golden hair’ – brief as it may first appear its ghost like presence is possessed of enough frail ethereal beauty to have the hardiest of souls standing jaw dropped and attentively adoring, its mistily emerged sparse ice draped stilled sereneness echoing the minimalist spell craft of Nico. What Crystal Jacqueline (album review coming incidentally) does with ‘grantchester meadows’ is surely the stuff of ancient spell books, a melodic mysterio shimmered in mystical murmurs and draped in fairy tale follies and arcane legends all beautifully entranced in dream weaved psych folk mirages. Rounding out matters to the groove end, Cary Grace’s ‘cirrus minor’ is beyond bewitchment, siren-esque whispers tremble and tease amid a wood crafted willowyness of bird song and petrified pastorals before ascending into astral pastures wherein a master class of bliss kissed overtures seduce and serenade.
Volume II of the momentary twinset opens to the succulently prairie pining sounds of Max Kinghorn-Mills whose re-treatment of ‘dark globe’ is rephrased in a gorgeously honeyed and lazy eyed countrified bouquet to which hints at the genteel carefree lolloping artistry of the Soft Parade and similarly touches base with the yearn and tumble down tuneage of the kingsbury manx and a very youthful of montreal which by our reckoning makes for a delightfully dinked demurring dreamcoat. As previously reported Claudio Cataldi’s rewire of ‘she took a long cold look’ plugs itself directly into the melodic mainframe of a Robyn Hitchcock fronted Egyptians and emerges from the other side smoked in acute coolness. And talking of coolness surely its high time for a Chemistry Set full length following several highly regarded Fruits de Mer happenings they’re found here incidentally craftily weaving elements of the Beach Boys ‘heroes and villains’ along with their own ‘we live as we dream….alone’ into their reading of Floyd’s ‘see emily play’ to concoct a deeply alluring psych pop playground draped in baroque braids and head shrooming woozy flashbacks – just love the Bickers-esque riff opines at the close. Perhaps of the quartet the closest in artistic spirit to Barrett is Todd Dillingham and Golly McCry’s re-tweaking of ‘the gnome’ here recoded in a loon crooned childlike crookedness much recalling the eccentric English psych patronage of the much missed Murmurs of Irma whilst festooned in all manner of surrealist nursery rhyme fayre that taps very loudly on the door of those weird kaleidoscopic heads over at Elephant 6 collective.
https://marklosingtoday.wordpress.com/2015/01/19/games-for-may/
https://marklosingtoday.wordpress.com/2014/11/26/a-momentary-lapse-of-vinyl/
for those of you currently plugged into the whole public service broadcasts, sinister plots and the general weird surrealism of ‘Scarfolk’ might do well to tune into their BBC iplayer and trying snaffle this up while it’s still available. ‘earworm’ by Simon Passmore is a fictional tale of an abandoned horror film shoot whose soundtrack possessing a virus that enables its author to control those whose mind it takes over….very much channelling Nigel Kneale and well worth investing a spare 45 minutes listening to…… http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b054qfj2
Staying very loosely again with Static Caravan, this bright young things is the latest from Tula via telegram records who’ve previously been known to arrest our turntable in recent living memory following a brace of keenly acclaimed 7’s for Birmingham’s most eclectic imprint. ‘river’ finds their mercurial tonalities coalescing seductively to emerge from a twinklesome hidey hole to unfurl in a glorious rush of euphoric radiance, quite stunning if you ask me posited initially on a sparsely weaved funkily offset wood chipped folk motif of the type that Laura J Martin might eye enviously before defrosting and loosening itself of its shy skin to unfurl in a stirring and dare I say captivating full on vividly lush wave of emotion heightening rapture – dare you resist. https://soundcloud.com/tulamusic/river/
A damn fine whole heap of voodoo groove, an album ‘walks for motorists’ about to rise and from it the teaser single ‘no will’ to get the skin a crawling and the wigs a frying, psych heads White Hills return to the fray with a bag full o’ bad boogie. ‘no will’ is a maddening dark rapture fused in grizzled glam and etched in pulse racing psychosis all turned as though an imagining of a ritualistic pact forged by an at the height of their powers ‘Mask’ era Bauhaus with ne’er do welling garage freaks the Fuzztones.
More returning old acquaintances, this time in the shape of new groove from Catskills with a double CD set imminent from the quite adorable Husky Rescue entitled ‘the long lost friend’. By way of a taster ‘deep forest green’ has loosened itself of its captive shackles and is currently swooning all on the sound cloud preview page all trimmed to a sublimely sensual minimalist purr that’s wood crafted in enchantment and opined in attractive love noted lilts not to mention finding itself free flowing in the same adorable pop fluency as that of Hafdis Huld. Does it for us then. https://soundcloud.com/catskills-records/deep-forest-green
Omnipresent or just bloody nosy, but we happened to eye this on the Static Caravan facebook page. Described in passing as ‘lee hazelwood fronting spiritualized’ this is a new 10 inch heading out of the aficionado imprint (in Manchester I do believe) by Nev Cottee entitled ‘if I could tell you’ which ought to appeal to those among you who’ve been troubled by repeat nights of sleeplessness imagining in your mind’s eye some softly stirred lazy eyed lilt wherein the serene flyby sounds of the Superimposers had been somewhat pressganged and hoisted aboard a magic boat captained by the Seahawks for a 60’s shimmered astral ride voyaging to the kaleidoscopic woozy worlds of monsterism island though not before popping a few head expanding beyond the wizards sleeve supplied tabs to counter the momentary flashes of consciousness dissipating and realities going all floaty dizziness. And before you ask, yes you do need this in your life – pronto. https://soundcloud.com/aficionado-recordings/nev-cottee-if-i-could-tell-you
I’m fairly certain we’ve mentioned Happyness in passing in these musings at one time or another, quite possibly this one in fact given its overly long arduous gestation period. New album (well a repackaged affair with additions) due end of March via the celebrated Moshi Moshi imprint – well I say celebrated but then there’s been no cause for celebration or the hanging out of bunting here because the blighters never send us anything – but hey ho who are we to hold grudges when the occasional critical dig will do. Just for the record ‘weird little birthday’ is the name of the album and from it has been ripped ‘a whole new shape’ which finds the trio engaged in honing their sub four minute craft in the kind of lo-fi buzz sawing noise popping power throb once upon a time visited upon vinyl artefacts whose grooves where smudged by the sonic signatures of dinosaur JR, Velvet Crush and Teenage Fanclub to name but three albeit here sumptuously art bombed into a swoon kissed bliss ball of feel good effervescence.
There was a time, many moons ago mind, when Asthmatic Kitty used to send CD’s aplenty. And then they stopped. And with that we kind of lost touch with all things Sufjan Stevens, no particular reason, there were other things to listen to and anyway occasional sightings by way of press reports had us concluding his star was in the ascendency and well – Asthmatic Kitty where probably sending their wares to far bigger titles than our seldom seen, hardly heard of somewhat quietly admired journal. And so it was by the power of Twitter that we noted with an interested raised eyebrow a posting declaring a new Sufjan teaser track with video to boot. From a soon to be released full length ‘Carrie and Lowell’ this is the bruised ‘should have known better’ and finds Mr Stevens in reflective and somewhat mournful moods, both haunting and strikingly beautiful and elegant, its traced upon memories of his late mother, his abandonment and his regrets, the melodies longingly swerve with a tumbling pastoral gracefulness haloed in ghostly sepia tweaked chorals to shimmer between bleak sparsely couched despair and radiating rushes of hope which I’ll warn you now will have you teetering between tearful and cheered mood swings. Utterly humbling.
A curio that we pulled from twitter, a newly forged imprint flying vinyl who offer a monthly service wherein for a no qualms and no minimum term subscription fee they send you at monthly intervals a box packed with exclusive platters from specially selected indie bands to suit your tastes. The sets also include various inserts such as gig tickets, hand signed merchandise from the featured bands and all manner of gear set to keep your vinyl loving enthusiast swooned. First boxes are due for shipping in June – more details as we get them. http://flyingvinyl.co.uk/
We here aren’t given over to press release hyperbole, the more they insist we’ll love it and that the track in question is something sitting at the top of our chosen musical street, then the more our sceptical radar starts to nag insisting we take a sharp left turn at the next intersection. Occasionally though there are the seldom salvos who praise their protégées, but do it such that intrigue gets the better of us and whence once heard we are left feeling they’ve somewhat underplayed their hand. Case in point – Rob Bravery – whose latest aural adventure ‘me, myself and the scurvy knave’ follows hot on the heels of his well received debut ‘knock out ginger’ (alas missed around these here parts). Masterful and elegant, whispered in a mercurial classicism and drilled in a song craft seemingly lost its quietly hushed elegance drawing you near as the pastoral keys pirouette, pivot and push towards a wind sweeping beautified crescendo. Between all this the imagery framed in adoring enchantment chimes softly to the free flowing seductive operama of the magic theatre / ooberman. https://soundcloud.com/robbravery/me-myself-and-the-scurvy-knave-1
And there we were just a review or two ago mentioning the Go ! Team and what do you know, up the blighters pop with the title track from their forthcoming Memphis industries set ‘the scene between’ – ridiculously joyous, this honey literally radiates feel good effervescence from the very pores of its being ,chirpy in only a way that a youthful Jackson 5 could ever be whilst all spring heeled in summer blossoms and chirped in an infectious rush of happiness it’s hard to avoid being gathered up by its oncoming ecstatic euphoria and piping pretty Polyphonic peppiness, not so sure about the gowns though chaps are we hinting at a Demis Roussos fashion wear revival upon this season’s catwalk.
We’d be hard pushed to understand why you wouldn’t find yourselves falling head over heels in adoration of this, so alluring, so cute, so insidiously catchy and most of all so pop that we’ve half a mind to end our secret embargo on chart bothering sounds in having a sly little listen of daytime radio if this is a sampling to judge by. Apparently the third instalment in a promised year-long song a month marathon from duo Grrlpal entitled ‘dare’ – this babe comes primed in the kind of retro wired old school ear candy sun beaming life affirming effervescence that imagines a loved up and playful Go Team playing hopscotch whilst back dropped to an infectiously feel good nursery rhyme motif all dimpled in kookily cute and sumptuous dubtronic electronic swathes – adorable stuff that ought to by rights come bottled and sold at chemists as a blue beating pick me up tonic. https://soundcloud.com/grrl-pal/dare
Been a while since we featured anything remotely drone-y – fear not there’s plenty of stuff from the artetetra and old bicycle records looming large on the horizon – yet for now we eyed this with much admiring interest, entitled ‘control heartbeat delete’ this is be my friend in exile of whom alas we have no information. What we do know is that there’s an album ‘creator, you destroy me’ currently doing the rounds via already dead tapes which we suggest you grab an earful of not least if your chosen listening loves settle upon the kind of sounds ghosted in a stilled immersive aural experience that haunt like the disquieting aftermath of some bleak apocalyptic happening for this is strangely majesty yet macabrely harrowing and tearfully graceful.
As always time to say thanks to all of you who have tuned in…..
Take care,
Mark
x
the sunday experience 