Although it was a really lovely autumn Sunday with soft blue skies, abundant sunshine, and a crisp breeze, I was still feeling rather worn out from shipping our December issue. Instead of finding a place to watch the Giants demolish the Raiders, I decided to stay inside and listen to records. I considered taking notes to accompany each album, but doing so would have felt too much like more work, so I opted to simply listen and deal with the subsequent guilt.
I started at around 9am with Ron Carter’s Where?, which was a present from Michael Lavorgna, and has become the album I turn to every Sunday morning. It’s happy and beautiful and easy on the ears: A good way to start a day. From there, I wanted to keep things going in a jazz direction, so I reached for Ornette Coleman’s Town Hall, 1962, an early copy of which I had very recently discovered at Good Records on 5th Street. It was great to find that my copy is in excellent condition, the vinyl being extremely clean and quiet, almost as though it had never been played. At its core, this is a trio with Coleman partnered with David Izenzon on bass and Charles Moffett on drums, but for “Dedication to Poets and Writers,” Coleman adds a string quartet. Can you imagine what it was like to have been there? It must have been spectacular. Could the audience have known what they were in for? Even in their applause, they sound confused. And “Sadness” is just stunningly beautiful, marked by a profound depth of emotion and humanity. Coleman was my age, 32 years old, at the time. What we are able to listen to here is only part of what took place on that night; the rest of the performance is lost.
I was feeling Ornette, so I kept it going with Change of the Century, which I found at Stan’s Square Records in Jersey City. The last of three albums recorded by Coleman in 1959, it, like its predecessor, The Shape of Jazz to Come, features Don Cherry on trumpet, Charlie Haden on bass, and Billy Higgins on drums.
I’m not sure why, but from there, I moved on to one of the best albums released in 2008, Gang Gang Dance’s Saint Dymphna, which I purchased direct from The Social Registry. The band creates a sort of psychedelic world music with propulsive rhythms, bewitching vocal chants, soaring effects, and outstanding overall production. I love this album more and more with each listen.
Moved by Gang Gang’s fire, I turned to Cave’s Psychic Psummer, which I happily discovered misplaced in the jazz racks at Other Music. After Psychic Summer, I was in need of some funk and soul, so I said hello to Miss Betty Davis, the one and only. The Sundazed release of her long-lost Is It Love or Desire is by far the best work I’ve heard from Betty Davis. I own and love her Light In The Attic reissues, but Is It Love or Desire captures Betty and the Funk House at their raunchiest, sexiest, most adventurous, and most seductive. You seriously want this album. It sounds amazing, too.
After Betty, I was in a mood, so I reached for the latest from the Vivian Girls. Somewhere between last year’s self-titled debut and Everything Goes Wrong, the Vivian Girls went from being America’s sweethearts to being dissed by every other blogger on the internet. Don’t ask me why. Everything Goes Wrong offers better production than earlier releases, and is still full of catchy hooks and sweet harmonies. After just one or two listens, these songs will slip their arms around your waist and drop their heads onto your shoulder. Just like that.
I think it was something about the Vivian Girls’ reverb-touched vocals that sent me looking for the self-titled debut from The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. More pop hooks, more reverb, more guitars. There’s something about this band—the melodies, I think—that reminds me of both the Smiths and Belle and Sebastian, but there’s also something about them—I think it’s the tone of the guitars—that reminds me of My Bloody Valentine. Even when listening to the recording, you can sense that much of the band’s sound is derived from pure volume. Guitars and voices bleed into one another, but the pop hooks are never lost.
I got an itch for some pulverizing power, so I placed Wolf Eyes’ Always Wrong on the platter and I ran for cover. I screwed up my face and threw a fist in the air and starting grinding my teeth and felt much better about things. I kept the mood going with Taylor Bow’s Thin Air. This is a bit of hardcore thrash punctuated by thick, grooving power chords, and a story about urban decay and lions, or something. I’m not really sure, but I like it. Don’t go Googling “Taylor Bow.” You won’t find anything but a bunch of porn sites. Go directly to Youth Attack and click “Listen.”
Taylor Bow took me to Eric Copeland’s Al Anon. I went to an Al Anon meeting once. It was the longest, most depressing and uncomfortable hour of my life, but it convinced me that I’m totally alright, I don’t have a problem, you have a problem and I do not belong here, I’m sorry for having wasted your time, thank you. This album is nothing like that. Eric Copeland is one of the dudes in Black Dice, and he also performs as Terrestrial Tones with Animal Collective’s Avey Tare. Al Anon is the second half of the two-part Alien In A Garbage Dump LP, and there are a lot of little things going on here: screeches, sirens, birds, horns, boombox beats…. It sounds like New York City.
I ended the day with more outsider sounds from Silk Flowers. Their self-titled debut grows on me with each listen. But for as much as I like this album, and I do like it, I can’t help but think that it could be much better if only the band had tried harder. I can hear vocal harmonies that aren’t there, but should be; refrains that never happen; changes that stay the same. Having said that, there’s this stupidly good keyboard lead that comes in almost exactly halfway through “Shadows in Daylight.” It shines brighter than even the brightest autumn day and I just can’t get it out of my head. I went to bed with it last night, and it was still there with me in the morning when I woke. So maybe Silk Flowers is just fine the way it is.
The video for “Shadows in Daylight” was directed by Brian Degraw of Gang Gang Dance. Check it:
Although it was a really lovely autumn Sunday with soft blue skies, abundant sunshine, and a crisp breeze, I was still feeling rather worn out from shipping our December issue. Instead of finding a place to watch the Giants demolish the Raiders, I decided to stay inside and listen to records. I considered taking notes to accompany each album, but doing so would have felt too much like more work, so I opted to simply listen and deal with the subsequent guilt.
I started at around 9am with Ron Carter’s Where?, which was a present from Michael Lavorgna, and has become the album I turn to every Sunday morning. It’s happy and beautiful and easy on the ears: A good way to start a day. From there, I wanted to keep things going in a jazz direction, so I reached for Ornette Coleman’s Town Hall, 1962, an early copy of which I had very recently discovered at Good Records on 5th Street. It was great to find that my copy is in excellent condition, the vinyl being extremely clean and quiet, almost as though it had never been played. At its core, this is a trio with Coleman partnered with David Izenzon on bass and Charles Moffett on drums, but for “Dedication to Poets and Writers,” Coleman adds a string quartet. Can you imagine what it was like to have been there? It must have been spectacular. Could the audience have known what they were in for? Even in their applause, they sound confused. And “Sadness” is just stunningly beautiful, marked by a profound depth of emotion and humanity. Coleman was my age, 32 years old, at the time. What we are able to listen to here is only part of what took place on that night; the rest of the performance is lost.
