archiv – singled out – missive #263…..

another archiv missive originally posted in 2010 via losing today…….


films of colour, zombie zombie, harper simon, sleepy sun, emporium, goodnight lenin, twisted nerve, carol batton, billy childish, malcolm mooney, pierre ralph, the blanche hudson weekend, celer….

missive 263


Singled Out

Missive 263


For Kelly and Mark


Revolutions of a 45 kind.


Hello. Hope you are all keeping well.


Did anyone see that brief spot on breakfast TV yesterday morning about misheard lyrics, apparently one of the newspapers had ran a feature nominating Hendrix’s ‘purple haze‘ line ‘excuse me while I kiss the sky’ or rather more ‘excuse me while I kiss this guy’ as heard by a fair few of you as the most humorous lyrical re-take. For my own part I remember tiffs and tantrums arising over the lyrics to dandy darlings Adam and the Ants ‘stand and deliver’ over the songs last delivery of the ’your conscience will be mine, all mine’ line which I swore was ’your conscience will be mine, boy’. For those among you wanting to check further to see if your own personal misheard gaff is not something purely peculiar to you then I suggest you redirect your mouse in the general direction of – an exhaustive resource that gathers together a wealth of misheard nuggets such as ‘I left my brain in Africa’ from Toto’s 80‘s hit ‘Africa’ or try ‘my anus is the centre hole’ from J Geils Band’s ‘centrefold’ and let‘s face it what exactly is the ’banned tango’ as heard by some wax muffled listener on hearing Queen’s ’bohemian rhapsody’ (’will you do the fandango’) – even the Beatles don’t escape the failure to sing it clearly maxim – how about ‘jo jo was a man before he was a woman’ from ‘get back’ or ‘something in the way she moos attracts me like no other mother’ (‘something’). our personal faves though are the Monkees ’and then I saw her face, now I’m gonna leave her’ – disappointingly only one entry for the Fall and none for Captain Beefheart while be honest there must have been a few drags of the wacky baccy when some wit boogied along to ‘steroid wisdom you cool operator’ during the Clash’s ‘white man in Hammersmith Palais’ – alas nothing from Nepalm Death or Extreme Noise Terror which is a shame because I always wanted to know exactly what ‘rwoooooooaaaaar waaaaaauuuugggh’ was on ‘religion is fear’. hey ho – records then…..



Films of Colour ‘actions’ (club fandango). Debut release time, the story behind this goes – singer Andy Clutterbuck nearly at the point of turning his back on music for good as a last gasp effort decides to drop a demo cd through famous neighbours letter box – famous neighbour who happened to be Chris Martin of Coldplay – actually plays said CD and is suitably impressed enough to put pen to paper and scribble words of encouragement thus reigniting the Clutterbuck dream. Label Fandango pick up demo and so impressed with it that the bunting is despatched around the office with much gusto and with little regard for the petty cash box ,the promotional wheels are oiled and moved into rapid action resulting in this two track offering which further down the yarn ends up on our hi-fi resulting in much swooning and smitten fits. ’actions’ is a little heartbreaker, a bitter sweet beauty cradled and caressed in intensely bright swirls of sugar glazed halos all smothered in stream lined showers of stratospheric struts that find themselves moored to an aching and sighing forlornly heavy hearted head bowed vocal. Likewise the same trick is repeated with ’circles’ over the flip albeit this is the far edgier offering – okay admittedly there is a credence Clearwater thing going on at the start but it soon settles down for a spot of star phased groove building to a crushing and epic finale from 3.50 on and something which unless my ears are deceiving should i suspect find admirers of early Stained Glass Heroes nodding with much approval.


Zombie Zombie ‘plays john carpenter’ (versatile). Essential purchasing for those much loving and immersed in all things soundtrack / kraut inflected minimalism, Zombie Zombie (not to be confused with US Goblin obsessives Zombi – albeit they share a lover for – shall we say – pissing in the same sonic pool ) are a French duo Cosmic Neman and Etiene Jaumet who on this release have set about re-calibrating a handful of familiar nuggets from the workbench of John Carpenter. Of course John Carpenter ought to be no stranger to the greater populist / film score audience, his sparsely crafted compositions notably ‘Halloween’, ’assault on precinct 13’ and ’the thing’ complimented perfectly the screens subject matter – stark, solemn and still they evoked austere atmospherics and a dread foreboding and a sense of chilled detachment and isolation. And so to ’plays John Carpenter’ features five such classics from the Carpenter canon – still wrapped in that identifiable ice cold grip, Zombie Zombie manage with much aplomb to draw the original template in from the cold while simultaneously retaining the spirit of the original’s – perhaps their re-shaping of ’the thing’ is the most contrasting of the set a spot of terra-forming Teutonic tastiness which taps into the whole kraut – tronic sphere as rewired by a youthful Echoboy c. ’scene 30’ – long admirers of Tubeway Army’s second side of ’replica’ will not go found wanting. Mind you ’assault on precinct 13’ is no slouch given the enhanced detailing of a rather nifty and slinky off centred early 70’s funky fashioning braided by some deliciously spectral bitter sweet arrangements while ’halloween’ armed with a makeover of motorik back beats and cosmic swirls (much like that you’d expect from the aforementioned Zombi) strangely sounds more stricken with futility that the original leaving both the kraut infused and euro disko underpinned ’escape from LA’ / ’the bank robbery’ sounding like they’ve been re-scored by a mind meeting alliance between front 242 and a young Yello with a certain Mr Faltermayer.


Harper Simon ‘Berkeley girl’ (pias). in a word – exquisite, mellow, demurring and lilting – not a lot more we can say. ‘Berkeley girl’ is culled from Mr Simon’s self titled debut full length. if like me your thinking that its gracefully touched by the same honeyed hush that appeared to be the sole remit of a late 60’s Simon and Garfunkel nugget then your instinctive ear may well be on the mark because Mr Simon happens to be the son of another Mr Simon as in Paul nee the Simon half of S&G (who happens to appear somewhere in the backing crowd). Tailored amid an alluring and affectionate cascading pastoral tug this spectral beauty comes blessed with a radiantly soft country folk aura that’s carried along by a gently turned driftwood breeze the type of which that should see the most ardent of defences breached. Beguiling stuff.

Sleepy Sun ‘marina’ (atp). Bugger me this is damn fine. Pressed up on 10 inch slabs of marbled coloured wax the lead track culled from their much touted ‘fever’ full length which alas a copy of which where slightly short and wanting of, Sleepy Sun drift in from the Sierra Gold Country dragging in their wake a strangely intoxicating spell crafted potion entitled ’marina’ – frankly the kind of thing you could get high from for just listening to – a 60’s psyche folk blues drop out smoked and stained in all manner of fuzz fanned scowls and bliss kissed druggy overtures in truth sounding like a woozy lysergic dream weave with Hendrix shimmying to Jefferson Airplane before unexpectedly terra-forms without so much as a by your leave mid way through for a spot of wigged out freeform tribal tinted out there groove. Flip side features the less erratic and psyche soured ’horses’ – a bit of an early 70’s stoned southern rock nugget rooted by halos of sun soaked warmth and rupturing riff blisters all decoded by a bitter sweetly head bowed dust dipped wide screen aura and something which we strongly recommend admirers of among others CSNY and the Band ought to investigate.


A handful of releases we fully recommend you keep an eye out for – I know we’ll be maintaining an eagle eyed styled vigilance atop record racks each and every time we have cause to frequent our local record

Emporium. First up the psychic ills whose recent ’catoptric’ set we fell favourably head over heels for have an ultra limited remix set out via frkwys which sees them rewired and flung through the fuzzy felt hands held by a veritable cast of person’s including Juan Atkins, Faust’s Hans Joachim Irmler and zonked out psych scuzz schizo Gibby Haynes of Buttholes infamy. Next up Seefeel re-awake from hyper sleep – 14 years are you sure – with a four track 12 inch (it could be a 10 inch can’t recall) via Warp along the journey Mark Clifford seemingly enlisting the services of a Boredoms drummer and an electro whiz-kid – its all typically detached and trippy stuff from what we’ve heard via sound clips with parting ’clouded’ clipped as it is with a frost sculptured Oriental aura proving to be the pick of the bunch on initial listens. And last up for now a remarkable triple seven inch package via the impeccable Jazzman imprint that gathers together a collection of landmark and long out of print nuggets from former Sun Ra Arkestra man Philip Cohran. Originally released in 1970 via his own private press imprint Zulu, the cuts within blending a richly vibrant swirl of mind melting progressive jazz with gospel tracings serve more than mere recordings capturing a unique period and moment in time but serve as proof of a collective of musical minds stepping beyond the boundaries of the standardised norm and the confines of jazz.


A hearty thanks to Geoff for the sending over of a batch of well heeled and frankly must have Static Caravan releases which failing this missive we’ll cover in more depth in the next singled out. Mind you all said and stopping us in our tracks jaw agape was this little cutie……


Goodnight Lenin ‘crook in the creek’ (static caravan). Absolutely no information about this lot I’m afraid but what I can tell you is that on the flip side offering ‘ragged schools’ its almost as though these lads have managed to capture, bottle and somehow infuse the grooves with all manner of sunshine glows to which on playing are unlocked and left to bathe your listening space in a desirable dusting that radiates with demurring joyful warmth, from the maturing and homely sway of southern state harmonies to the roving prairie plain spiritual aura of the doting and dinky rustic rambles there’s a deliriously drifting and welcoming lilt abound that snuggles perfectly into your record collection I guess somewhere between the Low Anthem and the leisure society. Mind you not that the lead out track is any slouch by comparison – a jubilant folly of feel good smoked and swooned countrified raptures is what’s on offer with ‘crook in the creek’ all embraced by a courting west coast tail breeze and gilded with a dash of affirming and exuberant gospel like tugs all clipped and framed in the same kind of ear catching immediacy as we’ve come to love and adore from those latest sub pop dandies Avi Buffalo. Comes housed in a limited hand numbered recycled card sleeve with dinky artwork by Clare Rojas and will fly from racks quicker than Liverpool Football Club conceding a goal (okay maybe not that fast then). Go find.


Various ‘twisted words’ (twisted nerve). You know how it is you wait around ages for something and then two come along at once, of course ordinarily I’d be talking about buses but these days its becoming a rarer occurrence to see twisted nerve / finders keepers releases lurking in record racks and so when you see two at once you’d been forgiven for ignoring the advances of the gift horse next to you as you trample off at pace towards the record emporium counter in order to lay claim to your finds. And that folks is just what we did when we eyed this spoken word selection from twisted nerve and a prime cut offering of library lounge treats from their vault reclaiming sister imprint Finders Keepers (more about them later). ’twisted words’ is a strictly limited offering – 500 I believe – which as with most of the TN back catalogue will soon be a thing of online auction listings. Given the unfortunate or perhaps impish catalogue number TWAT01 ’Twisted Words’ is intended to serve as an on going series of spoken word selections. By all accounts the idea for such a series has been filtering around the heads of Mr Votel and friends for over a decade now, false starts set backs and other tedious distractions have seen to it that its been kept on a very distant back burner. Until that is – now. According to the press release influenced by propaganda, field recordings, story book records and exploito-trash – the series promises to gather on groove a host of respected orators, poets and variously feted wordsmiths from around the globe. This first offering draws together 8 pieces narrated by three speakers – Carol Batton, Billy Childish and Malcolm Mooney. Now I’m sure that there’s a fair few folk like me who when hearing the word poetry find themselves switching off and lapsing into a somewhat daydream – frankly I never had time for the cryptic preferring instead Hegley to Armitage when said folk would aid and abet the graveyard shift radio transmissions of Messrs Radcliffe and Riley in the 90’s – it was something that had been hardened throughout school wherein the given maxim was that no matter what, backed up by a qualified argument of the text being studied that any meaning could be prescribed as being plausible. Alas why then where mine always wrong and so fancifully off the mark. Its I guess why I preferred law – herein was a scope for argument and the twisting of detail with the added bonus of occasionally not even having to relate to the facts. And so to Twisted Words. We hummed and hawed at how best we would tackle this inaugural outing – to whit it isn’t the day dream eliciting prospect that we first feared, is there nothing that garage punk troubadour Billy Childish hasn’t turned his hand to – musician, writer, painter and part time mobile sandwich maker on the last Sunday of every month weather permitting, here with an outpouring of remorse in ’at midnight….’ a kind of John Cooper Clarke meets Peter Cook affair while ’Jerusalem’ offers a readily more grim and darker account of hate personified – see Cook’s devil in ‘Bedazzled’ but without the impish retorts. There’s a charming dizziness to Carol Batton’s servings, their kookiness – for reasons best known only to my distant rose tinted memory – reminding me at times of the disconnected social commentary throughout Jarman‘s ‘jubilee’ (though you’ll have to bear with me on that because its been years since I saw the blighter) recited by some strange dead pan fusing of Alan Bennett and Victoria Wood which leaves ex Can man Malcolm Mooney to bring a modicum of normality with accounts originally entrusted to paper in the mid 70’s following his departure from the aforementioned krautrock collective.


Pierre Ralph ‘jeunes filles impudiques’ (finders keepers). Apparently its only been out for a week or so and is already proving to be harder to track down than an honest politician having sold out at source before the ink on its retro sleeve had barely time to dry. Forming part of a Jean Rollin retrospective by the label (which will see a deluxe vinyl issue of the entire ‘requiem for a vampire’ soundtrack for the first time ever), more associated with classic 70’s horror Rollin did occasionally adopt a pseudonym to stray into the world of sexploitation (Michael Gentil) – one such excursion being 1973’s ‘jeunes filles impudiques’ or ‘school girl hitchhikers’ for those non too familiar with the French tongue. Scored by Pierre Ralph (‘curse of the living dead’, ‘the iron rose’ et al) this five track seven inch is a must for purists of the library / exotica genre in fact so stunning are the sounds within that you wonder why and how these rarefied gems have remained near lost for nigh on four decades. Opening with a spot of salacious saucy erotica on the racy and raunchy rumble of ‘gilda and gunshots’ which comes replete with femme yelping, gunshots and from the sounds of it whipping aplenty and then onwards with the heat building beneath the collar to the dreamlike flute folly of the pastoral genteelness of the rambling folk title track ‘jeunes filles imperious’ all irresistibly punctuated by the subtle swell of oh er missus styled sensual sequences and that’s your side 1 sorted. Flip the disc for some killer bearded smokiness for the reclining lights lowered jazz moocher that is ‘jewel thieves’ which should appeal to admirers of both Budd and Mancini while star billing goes to the frisky and flighty closer ‘school hitchhikers’ which viewed as a double take sounds seriously like some sassily chilled and loose limbed variant of the theme to the surreal 60’s series ‘the prisoner’. essential.


The Blanche Hudson Weekend ‘hate is a loaded gun’ (squirrel). Sadly we’re a little late with this having rescued it from the carefully packed ‘must listen to’ boxes following our recent relocation. Think I’m right in saying that this is the third outing for these fuzz fuelled femme fronted fops and certainly something that’s edged its way into affections to such an extent that by our humbled opinion we reckon its their best set yet. ‘let me go’ is an inspired and intoxicating slice of shimmer tingled pop perfection lushly laced in all manner of 60’s girl groop shimmies albeit edging more towards Meek than Spector and sugar dipped in coalescing echoes of a butter kissed buzz sawing and sultry Primitives while ‘so sick’ reveals a darker seduction at work, bled with a reduced sparse countenance that sees the omission of guitars in favour of the haunting fog bound chill of a weaving harmonium braided by a flotilla of scraping and clanging atmospherics, the effect is both one of detachment and ghostly desire though unmistakably tutored and turned by the spectre of Nico. Last but by no means least flip over for the dream weaving lilt and lull of the Velveteen spell craft of the shade adorned soft psyche smoulder of ’song for Kristen’ – a bliss kissed beauty if ever I heard one. All in all a gem.


Celer ‘dwell in possibility’ (blackest rainbow). Hours of fun trying to decide what speed to play this little treat at, well I say hours to tell the truth mere minutes though once we’d satisfied ourselves on the optimum spin cycle – 78rpm – my word what a frantic and furious squealing skree soiree lay in store for one and all. Of course we are pulling your leg – in fact we here must admit to being somewhat adoring of this limited issue full length for Blackest Rainbow from American husband and wife duo Celer. As per usual no information is forthcoming though a spot of quick research which in our case usually means hounding the invaluable site reveals they’ve to date released some 40 plus releases since 2004 noting with much sadness that technically the Celer operation is now defunct following the untimely death of Danielle in July 2009 as a result of heart failure. Word has it that there are some 25 completed Celer works recorded before Danielle’s passing which in the fullness of time will be released. ’dwell in possibility’ – apparently their first vinyl offering – is a beautifully seamless soundtrack made up of 15 interlocking suites. Chamber ambience I think you’d find yourself filing it under if indeed there was such a generic box in which to pack it away under, all at once mysterious and magnetic, slow to burn, intricate, delicately applied and hitherto providing a richly rewarding meditative experience. don’t be too dismissive to base your judgement on its initial opening passages, agreed their sombre brooding pangs eke out a sense of desolation, spectral whispers translated on a low end frequency scale hover through the ether much like the end credit soundtrack to Barry Gray’s score for Gerry Anderson’s ’UFO’ TV series. And then an impasse. Silence. the momentary sound of a distant passing rumble of a storm. In its place an orbital oceanic like calm softly radiates through the once empty and colourless void. Like watching one of those speed framed nature documentaries where you witness the growth cycle of a plant or a small insect, so to does Celer’s hermetically sealed micro-verse begin to populate and unfurl, the ghostly opines and the lingering lull of the harmonic spectres craft a bitter sweetly humbling recital of sorts with the silvery drone atmospherics casting a reverential and church like in appeal to proceedings. Side two re-affirms the mood, the readily more sedate selection of the set it perhaps gives all the evidence – if any where needed – as to why Celer have proved such a draw among the ambient / drone admiring community in that its their ability to conjure and choreograph a sonic tapestry both dark and light, hopeless yet hopeful, expansive and panoramic yet close and intimate, the detailing of these shimmering halos or rather more solemnly frosted ice sculptures is slender and minute, unmistakably scarred by an overwhelming feeling of sadness and departure yet coaxed and cajoled by something that gracefully extends beyond the bounds of finality. In a word – exquisite.


Back by the tail end of the weekend with more of this gubbins – for updates and general boredom check for colourised loveliness and tips on good taste record listening – as ever email requests, death threats and general chit chat to – oh yea we’ve moved address so you might want to check an earlier singled out – we suggest missive 261 (I think).


Till then – take care of yourselves –




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