archiv – singled out – missive #262….

another archive missive – originally posted 2010 via losing today…….


sweet apple, jim jones revue, psychic ills, shindig, am, haz, calibro 35, teenage rehab, Capitalist Casualties, Lack of Interest, short fast and loud, gigi, diascorium….. 


missive 262


Singled Out

Missive 262


For Kelly and Mark


‘surrounded in sound’


Blah blah blah – new address and stuff – ask me and I’ll tell you – hey does anyone know where I can get a copy of the latest Ptolemaic terrascope – issue 37 I think…..hey ho – record type things then…..


Sweet apple ‘do you remember’ (valley king). Almost forgot we had this what with the recent move we here are coming across all sorts of groove grizzled gubbins in the new gaff. Anyhow unless you’ve been living under a rock navigating the outer reaches of our galactic belt then there’s every chance you’ve heard, bought, loved and ultimately had affections bestowed upon sweet apples’ ‘do you remember’ shifted to say – ooh – that spanking new jim jones revue release. However for the benefit of those stranded on the aforementioned rock or indeed listening to the wrong radio stations then hunting down a copy of this cutie is going to be harder than securing a handful of hens teeth. limited to 500 numbered copies all housed in a signed silkscreened sleeve and coming replete with a mini art print and a sticker to boot sweet apple are a super group of sorts featuring j mascis, tim parnin (cobra verde), dave sweet apple and john petkovi. ’do you remember’ the first single to be lifted from their tee pee ’love and desperation’ set is a killer spot of tuneage that wears its glam / grunge / slacker heart on its sleeve, scuzzily strut laden and sounding pretty much like a bunch of dudes with oodles of rock mileage on the clock just kicking back and having fun for the hell of it and into the bargain showing up the new kids on the block in their casual ability to sound so uber cool – as to the sound – well ‘wagon’ era dinosaur fans won’t be disappointed throw in some TFC and Gumball c.‘90, a smidgeon of Foo Fighters, some 70’s hairiness and bob’s your uncle – solid gold groove (mind you not as good as ’I’ve got a feeling’ or ’somebody else’s problem’ but hey you’ll need the album for those) – any questions then. Nope – flip side is another album cut – admittedly not as immediate as its accompanying a side partner though that said there’s a subtle smoked road blues charm to ’crawling over bodies’ that indicates someone in the camp spending hours dreamily thinking of a Young / Richman face off. Go buy.

Jim Jones Revue ‘high horse’ (punk rock blues). Now we don’t mind admitting that we have something of a reviewers hang up about the mighty Jim Jones Revue – its not that we don’t like or get them – we do – and that’s part of the problem, because regular readers of these missives may well have noted our lack of comment on these hell fried rollers – in truth I think we’ve actually managed to get into print at least one review of an early single and then diddly squat. So what’s been the issue – hell we’ve got nearly everything they’ve put out – and each subsequent release has been afforded unerring courtesy of trouncing our turntable with repeated plays to the point where the grooves on the wax have thinned and made them nigh on unplayable. Truth is we’ve had so much bloody fun listening to their stuff that we’ve scant had a thought for reviewing the blighters. And so with a second (or is it third – at least one was a compilation) album having just hit the stores in the guise of ’burning your house down’ – a copy of which we’ll nail for turntable terrorising in the coming days there is the small matter of a limited seven single to herald its arrival. Possessed of a quality high grade devil boogie ‘high horse’ literally leaves scorch marks in the wake of its play, toxically wired to the teeth this blistered and unkempt riotous beauty is a throwback to the raw and primal primitive days of rock n’ roll blues, a scalding homage to berry, lewis and presley relayed and re-sprayed with knowing nods to jon spencer, reverend Horton heat and the frankly untouchable gallon drunk, laced up in riff struts to die for that are armed to a frenzied flame throwing key boogie woogie atop of which a preacher like vocal serves his blues barked sermon. Need I say more. Flip over for the dark and rumble some lip curling mooching cutie ’bag o’ demons’ which unless my ears do deceive sounds like a horny, lust lounging and dirty take on the faces – dare say there’ll be messages of complaints about that one. Ho hum.


Shindig #18 – without doubt our favourite read these days – if of course you don’t count classic rock’s ‘prog’ spin off (more about that later somewhere). Catering for all things psych, garage, soul, folk, power pop and beyond, Shindig has since its back from the dead return to the magazine shelves some three years ago found its groove and struck a timely chord amongst an underground readership / listener-ship tired of Saturday night TV tamed pop trite. Fitting neatly between the likes of Ugly Things, Galactic Zoo Dossier and Ptolemaic Terrascope and feeding from a release diet of gems exhumed by the likes of sundazed, ace, rev-ola, big beat, Norton and more besides, Shindig has become a watchword in all things cool and floppy fringed. This issue sees the inclusion of a nifty mini magazine insert entitled ’happening’ primarily accounting for the ’current / new bands’ operating in Shindig’s sphere of obsession as an added bonus there’s a download code that gets you access to a frankly must have 21 track compilation featuring a positively flowered paisley parade of well heeled aural alchemists from across the globe, here you’ll find the slim trimmed Beatle suited strut of Race Horses’ ‘cake’ rewired with its Rutles head on, then there’s the razor sharpened power pop throbbed confection of Len Price 3’s Velvet Crush -esque effervescence via ’after you’re gone’. pugwash turn in a frighteningly faithful take of the idle race’s ’on with the show’ while the Dials shimmy in with some 60’s Hammond drenched silkiness for the beat grooved beauty ’watch her walk away’. those of you preferring your sounds a little more matured in oak casks and tenderly aglow with steel pedalled porch trained dinkiness should seek out old californio’s ’just like joseph Campbell’ then there’s the twin pronged garage strut of thee attacks freakish ‘are you’ and the wildebeests cover of the small faces ’that man’ (check out their double disc greatest hits set being currently touted by the esteemed dirty water dudes) – add in some choice cuts from only joe kane, bevis frond, the moles, the parties, teaspoon, Ulysses, the fallen leaves, the united space league, trembling bells, dewolff, the magical folk of the faraway tree, the brutes and dc fontana – all said though our favourite of the mix is the wood crafted spell charm that is the Saffron Sect’s ‘seas of green glass’ a kind of timeless tapestry that joins the dots between Circulus, the wicker man, Stanshall’s sir henry at Rawlinson’s end and camber wick green. As to Shindig itself the Birds stir from the cover and are treated to a 6 page overview in the company of singer Ali McKenzie. elsewhere the uber cool Remains are spotlighted we must admit that we’ve been caning Sundazed’s excellently packaged double disc set by the Boston combo since it arrived in our gaff a couple of months ago. BFI’s ongoing release schedule of cult movies sees DVD outings for both ‘bronco bullfrog’ and ‘here we go round the mulberry bush’ the latter is given the thumbs up in a detailed feature while news reaches us that at long last next month will see the official DVD debut of ’psychomania’. squeezed between all these there are spots for the Tages, the purple hearts, sainte Anthony’s fyre and jamme. Add to this your recommended grab bag of all the hippest releases available for your discerning listening pleasure via record land while regular featurette vinyl art shines the spotlight on the outsiders ’68 gem ’gq’.


Psychic Ills ‘catoptric’ (social registry). Fancy something a tad meditative for your listening pleasure, lets face it you can’t go far wrong with new york based psych drone alchemists psychic ills. For a fair while now they’ve been high on our list of listening loves their sounds conveying all at once a strange sense of the mysterious, the hypnotic and on occasion the brutal. Recorded during the same sessions that culminated in the release of 2009’s ’mirror eye’ full length – these four cuts failed to make the final mastering cut instead left to lie on the studio desk gathering dust. Now rediscovered, polished up and culled together, ‘catoptric’ comes pressed up on strictly limited slabs of both green and blue marbled vinyl – our copy being of the blue variety and quite fetching it looks to housed in a silk-screened cut slip jacket with lyrical insert. Those previously familiar with the Psychic Ills work will not be found wanting while on offer for those who‘ve not yet had the pleasure is a gathering of bliss kissed and chilled cosmic psychotropic tapestry. Smoking stuff indeed – harmonically sedate and tangibly touched by a mournfully detached aura, the arabesque indents applied to ’transmute’ instils a parched dust drilled sultry and sensually intoxicating spell charm led from the fore by an artillery of opining sitars lost in cloudless sky decorating swirling mantras that garner a timeless terrain. The mood changes rapidly to one of ominous intent for ’secret flower’, darkly drizzled and wrapped in soft ebbs of synth waves beneath which there lies the persistent unflinching bed rock of locked groove motorik rhythmic beats, the atmosphere austere and frosted with the drip dried morosely mooching chimes imagining a youthful and dark Cure being reframed by Artery or And Also the Trees. The cosmically tranced ‘Indus echo’ sees out side one, a mind morphing kaleidoscopic mirage replete with dissipating guitar / synth swathes that create the kind of out there head music once ventured by the pairing of Sonic Boom and Sunray for that essential ‘dream machine’ release. Flip the disc for the sets crowning moment – the 11 minute odyssey that is ‘out vocation’ – truly fried and very much something that should appeal to admirers of recent offerings coming from out the telescopes camp not to mention those fixated by early bronnt industries kapital and pimmon outings – sounds like the undercarriage of a huge console board belonging to a hulking inter-galactic cruiser if you ask me, the textures minimal built layer upon layer over a flickering pulse rhythm gathering in depth and dimension until they reach a controlled critical meltdown yet by then your already to fried to care as your mind trails off into the unknown repeating yabba yabba. Guess that’s another one for your wants list then.


am ‘belong to galaxy’ (rocket girl). I might be sticking my neck out here and talking complete tosh (won’t be the first time mind) but I’m certain I’ve read in recent despatches that this lot had to change their name to aem due to various legal threats. Ah well its only a small detail – the records still the same, as is its title and so is the label on which arrives. And so continuing apace with rocket girls impeccable release roster of recent times (robin Guthrie, Ulrich schnauss, the brothers movement et al) pray silence we give you am. A duo no less based in Japan featuring the combined talents of ex Supercar-er Kodai and producer Miyuki. We don’t mind admitting that we’ve been a tad bit smitten by this release since their kindly PR sent over the download links, for amid its dimpling of a vintage 70‘s electro aura ‘belong to galaxy’ still manages to maintain a freshness and modernist vitality sounding for all the world like a recently unearthed time capsule or a returning space mission homeward bound after venturing the very edges of the cosmos. All at once consuming and mesmeric, am explore for the best part of the set orbital trajectories more readily associated with the likes of Zombi / goblin / fly (whose one and only full length you can hook up to via elefant records). comprised of seven gloriously detailed lunar voyages, ‘belong to galaxy’ is a richly rewarding aural adventure that manages to touch base along its oscillating orbit with elements of shoe gaze (as on the majestic ‘the universe is alive‘), drone, space age psychotropia and more besides. Here you’ll find the echoes of La Dusseldorf sparring with early Tangerine Dream, elements of kraut rock reshaped, reframed and recalibrated into mind morphing hyper driven starry eyed glides. Filtered and filleted by rushes of buzz sawing feedback and looping electro pulse waves, applying wide screen atmospherics these sonic satellites shimmer and seduce amid a gaseous backdrop of sugar glazed halos, from the allure of the crystalline textures of the tenderly turned and trippy ’addiction to you’ with its spectral wisps and sunbursts of jubilant garlands to the brief but beguiled frosted oceanic snow globed shimmies of the porcelain ’keep imagining oven images’ – ‘belong to galaxy’ is an intricately layered cosmic tour de force of bliss kissed heavenly bounded harmonics. The euphoric fuzz fanfares found on ‘I’ve got them’ are breathless while the sets crowning centrepiece the epic 17 minute ‘the universe is alive (one huge sine wave)’ is an emotion sapping bitter sweet beauty whose initial nocturnal overtures play tag with a dream ticket imagining of yellow 6 / charles atlas and vini reilly rooted in the same studio space, the reverberating chord caresses marshalled to the ebb and flow of tidal slip streamed feedback waves gather delicately in intensity until finally unfurling and imploding amid a sea swirl of tear stained fuzzy skree vapour trails before fading solemnly into the ether. In the final analysis its admitted that ‘belong to galaxy’ doesn’t push the envelope in terms of advancing the space rock / shoe gaze / electro cause but it does provide for a consuming and curvaceous cosmic carnival whose ancestry owes as much to Jarre and Vangelis as it does to My Bloody Valentine.


Haz ‘above the tree line’ (herb). Not all its cracked up to be this taking your eye off the ball lark because as well as the mountain of CD’s and vinyl we’ve managed to gather over the course of a month or three in readiness to listen, love and wax lyrical about in these very pages – we’ve also got a considerable amount of my space and digital downloads to follow up, not least from the likes of the Herb imprint who since last featuring in these pages courtesy of that – dare we say – immense Kingbastard three track affair (a release that we annoyingly can’t put our hands to at present and now we come to think of it are not entirely certain actually on herb – gets confusing) – have managed to sneak under the counter and behind our backs releases by shoosh, the aforementioned kingbastard and haz. it’s the latter we’ll concentrate on for now – not strictly speaking officially out for a few weeks


Calibro 35 ‘ritornano quelli di’ (ghost).Should be high on the needs list of those vintage 70’s film soundtrack purists among you, this five piece Milan based collective have only released perhaps one of the coolest things in record world right now for ‘ritornano quelli di’ is a smoked surf soaked lounge lizard who trains its admiring and authentic ear and applies its tutored craft upon the world of early 70’s thriller / espionage / blaxploitation cinema scores. In an era where exists a dedicated target audience tired of the current days pop pap and heavily subscribing into labels whose specialism and detail is unearthing forgotten sounds whether that be 60’s garage beat punk, blues, folk, psyche, lounge et al the marketable stock interest value of film soundtracks from the 60’s and early 70’s (especially those of an Italian origin) has risen hugely with dedicated compilations such as the Easy Tempo series and the ‘Beat at Cinecitta’ anthologies trading briskly. And so enter the fray Calibro 35, led from the fore by Tommaso Colliva and with one well received full length under their belts in the shape of 2008’s self titled debut (which alas we missed), this well heeled collective have established themselves as something of keepers of the flame of a cultural cult aural art form – the ‘Euro crime’ soundtrack (an Italian sub genre of underground gangster / chase / cop flicks) – and have meticulously weaved a sleek and funky sound-scape whose lineage can be traced back to legendary Italian musicians / composers such as Francesco de Masi, Piero Piccioni, Bruno Nicolai and the De Angelis brothers. ’ritornano quelli di’ is an imaginary soundtrack of sorts, a homage to the past, within its grooves lurk thirteen sizzled and sassy suites that recall past masters such as Mancini (especially on ‘sospesi nel traffico‘), Budd, Komeda, Gray, Morricone and Goblin. Book ended between the rapid fire opening of the buzz sawed tension of the brass breezed grizzled funk chic of ‘Euro crime!’ and the parting lazily eyed and uber cooled laid back sophistication of the Lalo Schifrin like ‘si dicono tante cose….’ you’ll find the mooching rain drizzled sleazy underside of Raymond Chandler dragged out of the shadows on ‘gentilsesso e brutali delitti’ while the tempo touting pulse racing ‘l’esecutore’ taps seductively into that whole kooky stateside street grind that made early 70’s US imported cop dramas such a pull. Elsewhere there’s time for a spot of skinny jeaned loose limbed playfulness on the wonky ’convergere in giambellino’ though all said its ’il ritorno della banda – parte 1’ that secures our vote as best moment of the set – a sparse and minimalist mellowed and mournfully coaxed gem which with solemn vengeful seduction courts similar sentimental spheres as John Barry’s immortal score for lost 60’s tv series ’vendetta’ albeit minus the lushly layered string arpeggios. Magnifico as I believe they say in Milan.



You can also check out their recent live set for KCRW via


Teenage Rehab ‘abuse your solution’ (I hate punk rock). Buggering hell – where have this lot been all my life, apparently forming some thirteen years this Kentucky based trio have so far managed to escape our listening gaze. Currently sporting a by all accounts bollock dropping full length via jailhouse (a copy of which we’ll see to it gets into our lives by way of either begging, stealing or borrowing). For now though there’s the small detail of a four track EP for I hate punk rock to recommend for your listening delight. Pressed up on red vinyl and housed in a gatefold sleeve. not sure how many copies are kicking about but if I were you I‘d be getting my arse into gear to secure a copy especially if like me your tired of rich kids donning their high street ‘punk‘ threads and opting for a spot of MTV friendly comedy pogo pop ever hoping and longing for the days of classic era Secret to rumble petulantly out of your speakers. Well your in luck here, four boot tapping barn stormers are up for your listening pleasure, not quite as scalding as we were hoping for though the three chord flame retardant ‘Southside peasant’ has plenty of Chron Gen tricks and trapping about it to have the most ardent old punk bouncing off the walls while ‘son of a son’ kicks with enough lacerating riffage to have you yearning to re-familiarise yourself with your early leatherhead platters. Flip the disc for the head nutting and snotty ‘put on hold’ with its blaze core of buzzing struts recalling a youthful UK Subs while its left to the scowling fuck you ‘goodbye mr Watson’ to provide the sets best moment. Damn we really do need to hear that album.


Okay staying with things spiked topped the latest issue of Short Fast and Loud #23 comes accompanied with a seething 7 inch split that pairs together a vicious head to head between Capitalist Casualties and Lack of Interest – but more about that in a second. it’s the first time I’ve seen this stateside based fanzine and pretty damn smart it is to, printed up as a 7 inch sized its literally busting at the seems with – well as the fanzine title gives hint to – grooved gear of the short fast and loud variety – which means hardcore, thrash, grind core et al. 80 pages in all featuring interviews with damage digital, pretty little flower and humming bird of death, plus pages upon pages of reviews of bands that sadly we haven’t heard of (hang on tell a lie we’ve just spotted a melt banana and fucked up write up) though rest assured we will endeavour over the course of the next few missives to seek out and mention as many as we can source while checking out San Fran imprint prank to see if their records sound as good as their sleeves look. Anyway back to that split single featuring two leading lights on the west coast hardcore scene – capitalist casualties weigh in first with three speed drilled grizzled goliaths very much positioning themselves in that whole old skool minor threat / black flag realm for both ‘tontine’ and ‘indelible marks’ – you know the deal 100mph mayhem that trepans the crap out of you while the pace slowed ‘copper green’ occupies an altogether darker and menacingly futile place. Four cuts from lack of interest again possessed of the discernible black flag appeal given that they whip through them with such force they almost lurch out and throttle the crap out of you – best of the rapid fire set the insanely incendiary ’useless’ which almost had me reaching for my discharge discs.


Gigi ‘the hundredth time’ (k recs). Jeez would you credit it. Most of these k releases usually arrive with the trademark jukebox centre which us being not the most organised of souls at the best of times means that a brief moment of manic always ensues followed by plenty of cussing and cursing as we try to lay our hands on a plastic middle – what do you call those things. Well you get the drift. So here we are for once we have the middle plastic type thing prized in the palm of our hand in readiness as we’ve just eyed a k release in the bundle and what do you know. The buggers have only gone and pressed this up with a fully fashioned moulded centre. Obviously the plastic shortage that seems only to hamper Olympia is over. And so we huff and puff and place said release on the spindle type thing on the hi-fi, only the bugger won’t fit. And so for the next 15 minutes there we are with a make shift pen trying to whittle the hole wide enough to play. I’m almost tempted not the play the blighter out of protest. And one minute later – roughly – I’ve forgotten and forgiven all because what’s emanating out of my speakers is the sweetest thing we’ve heard since the low anthem shuffled up to the hi-fi with ’charlie darwin’ and literally blew us away. Oh we could and we will mention how much it had us recalling the first Summer Hymns album, maybe added in with a little of the Earlies and lets not forget Buffalo Springfield and Dennis Wilson for good measure. Indeed ‘the hundredth time’ is that good, arriving unassuming upon a softened mellow breeze shuffling and stumbling with a shy eyed aura trailing in its wake a gorgeously smoked southern / west coast lilt rooted in the early 70’s and pressed upon with a delicately demurring homely warmth filled pop purr. A gem. Flip over for the more upbeat and sun-shiney sweetheart that is the dinky and dippy ’some second best’ whose chirping popsicle opines and silken sepia trimmed arrangements may well strike a deserving chord among lovers of free design. There’s an album via tom lab that I’m suspecting needs investigating sharpishly. – a quartet hailing from Leeds who we stumbled across via the mighty torn flesh net imprint (who we’ll be mentioning in greater detail later in this missive) from whom you can download for free their latest four track EP ’Abstractions of the Absolute’. a release that’s admittedly been making serious wormhole patterns in our skull since coming into earshot and another release that we suggest is best viewed from the safety afforded by being behind the sofa. a brutal set comprised of four slabs of skin peeling death metal ferocity is what you get for time and effort, the opening chapter to this curdled cauldron being the subterranean like ‘requirement for our dream’ which we must admit leads you somewhat misguiding and gently albeit grimly into the fray taking the kind of sonic route more becoming of 70 gwen party – all mutant insectoid sounds and what sounds like some hellish factory setting whilst suffocating you in a dread locked sense of approaching apocalyptic portent which manifests itself within the frenzied mayhem of the choking ’the blood shall spoil’ which gets close and personal and sounds for all the world as though your being laid to siege by the speed freaked incendiaric assault being vented. ’self modifying game’ offers little in the way of salvation – instead a bludgeoning battering ram of skin bleaching punishment leaving ‘cnideria’ to wrap up matters which it does with unabated unforgiving and merciless glee fading out at 4.39 for a spot of well heeled funereal orchestrations. Certainly ones to watch by our humble reckoning.


And that’s your lot – there’ll be another of these things before the end of the week so no straying – as ever updates via – oh and thanks to all for tuning in – and yea we have a new submissions address so please check the previous missive for details…..


Cheerio and take care




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