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Hopefully you all had an enjoyable summer and are ready to show off your tanned Adonis-like structures and Venusian curves as we enter the fall season. When I was a kid, September was always a Catch-22-like experience: while it meant no more sleeping until past noon, staying up all night and hanging out with my friends, it also meant the beginning of network television's "new fall season," when all the new shows began and some of my favorites returned with all-new episodes. Nowadays, I wouldn't force my worst enemy to sit and watch the swill being forcefed onto an unsuspecting, but apparently receptive audience, so the mystical aura of September has wafted into the rafters. But I did manage to score some cool music in the waning days of the Summer of '04, and herewith offer my report of some of the fall's best (and worse) aural exciters.

Dungen – Ta Det Lugnt (Subliminal Sounds)

The fourth album from this Swedish multi-instrumentalist/one-man band known as Gustav Ejstes is one of the best psychedelic blasts of fresh air I’ve heard all year. It’s more pure pop for now people, with a decidedly rough and exciting exterior couching incredibly catchy hooks within. Opener “Panda” finds Beatlesque pop battling aggressive prog a la Styx or Kansas, and some heavily-treated guitars and vocal effects highlight “Gjort Bort Sig,” more proggy psych in the vein of Lucky Bishops, but also fondly reminiscent of Mike Patto and Timebox. The dreamy, acoustic “Festival” hits all the right high notes in creating a patchouli-filled atmosphere for unwashed and slightly dazed partygoers to trip the light fantastic.

The folky “Du E För Fin För Mig” has a melancholic violin intro (from, presumably, Gustav’s brother, Lars-Olof) that later returns to provide a “Long and Winding Road”/”Eleanor Rigby” vibe throughout, leading up to Reine Fiske’s brainfrying guitar solo that may literally have the laser beam jumping right off your disk! Hey, Jimi is alive and well and living in Sweden! However, before you book your flights, it should be noted that the title track does deteriorate into a little too much guitar wankery for my taste and is perilously close to raising the ominous spectre of Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush. Although the complete turnabout into a bitching jazz jam based around Aron Hejdstrom’s wonderfully fluid sax work nearly saves the track form the discard pile.

The gorgeously psychedelic instrumentals “Det Du Tänker Idag Är Du I Morgon” and “Lejonet & Kulan” remind me of the mellower vibes on the new Mushroom disk we reviewed in July, and is perfectly suited to sitting cross-legged in a field enjoying nature’s finest. Gustav’s flute is a particularly nice touch on the former and adds an Incredible String Band glow to the proceedings. I also heard a bit of “Strawberry Fields” in the short instrumental, “Glömd Konst Kommer Stundom ånyo till Heders,” and “Om Du Vore En Vakthund” compares favorably with Jimi’s “Third Stone from the Sun.” The anthemic closer, “Sluta Följa Efter” combines all the preceding elements and genres into a perfectly fitting finale to one of the year’s best releases.

So there’s a little something for everyone to like, no matter what your taste in music, whether it be acid-fried psychedelia, smooth-groovin’ jazz, heartpounding prog or just plain old mellow acoustic folk. While this kitchen sink variety may be too overwhelming for some, it kept this listener on his toes always anxious to hear what was coming next. A great introduction to Dungen’s work and a fitting incentive to seek out his earlier releases.

The Beans – Bassplayer (Intr.Version)

Of the many acts named Beans, this is the anonymous (a half hour search of their website only revealed a few first names), Vancouver-based quintet that once famously performed a 48-hour concert (Sugar Factory, August 10-11, 2001 – sound and vision available at their website), and the opening track of their fourth full-length, “May 6^th Expires” could have been a romantic sax-led floater with intricately laced guitar interludes reminiscent of Disintegration-era Cure if it weren’t for Andy’s incessantly annoying, overmodulated. Unfortunately, the track deteriorates into a battle royale with guitar, horns, drums and unintelligible field recordings struggling for supremacy and the listener is left to sort out the cacophonous wall of noise, like listening to a shortwave radio station under the covers late at night with three channels intersecting each other at once. Musical collages have to complement each other, not compete with each other for center stage and this one collapses under the weight of its own cleverness. The band isn’t ready for the second track, “Galuda” to begin and spend the opening seconds yelling at each other. Some may call this fly-on-the-wall intimacy, I just found it annoying. After 90 seconds of Dead-like fumbling in the dark, the song proper begins and it’s another exquisite, guitar-based post rocker with a hyperactive drummer once again controlling the proceedings. Imagine chilling out to the latest Stars of the Lid blisswork when your significant other strolls through the room carrying a boom box blaring Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk,” complete with the USC Marching Band.

Track three, inexplicably titled “Number Four” once again tentatively flounders before gelling into a cohesive groove, and it’s a laidback, ruminating jazzy vibe at that, with mercifully subdued drumming that, for once, operates within the confines of the band’s overall modus operandi. It’s a perfect chillout tune that I’ll return to often, particularly after a hard day’s night at the office. There’s a nice melancholic piano touch at the end as well!

The fourth and final of our ten minute tracks is the marble-mouthed “My Love Is A Rhinestone Infused Dodecahedron,” which is obviously not gonna gain any airplay on that all-request weekend over at your local college radio station! This one features more Tarentel-like guitar explorations with (thankfully) subtle cymbal flashes and the odd cello flourish from Katie Dey sprinkled throughout for flavoring. After about seven minutes, the spirits of Godspeed You Black Emperor and Mogwai enter the room and the band begins to rise like a Phoenix, driven by a martial drumbeat as volume, temperature and blood pressure arise as one and brass joins the fray until it feels as if all of Canada has risen to its feet to join in its new national anthem. Impressive! If only I didn’t have to wait a half hour to get to this highlight of the album.

Cobra Killer – 76/77 (Monika)

Nearly 30 years ago, The Runaways proved that girls could play guitars and make as much rock and roll racket as the boys, although five years earlier, Fanny had initially blazed the trail as the first all-girl band signed to a major label (Reprise). Nowadays, the gender bias has all but evaporated with bands like The Donnas (Atlantic) and Sweden’s Sahara Hotnights (RCA, see review below) signing with the big, er, guys! Women also continue to make inroads in Europe, that last bastion of macho, heavy metal posturing, where some of the best punk bands (period!) are female combos such as the Hotnights, Norway’s Mensen and, now the German duo, Gina V. D’Orio and Annika Line Trost, who’ve just released their third album as Cobra Killer. (They’ve been playing in bands since before they were teenagers, most notably as The Lemonbabies and The Sophisticated  Troublemakers way back in the late ‘60s, and last year they each released a solo album.)

Their new wave-y electro beats are as infectious as Suicide, with the bubbly, happy feet, dancefloor smash “Mund Auf – Augen Zu (Stecker Raus, Ich Dreh’ Durch)” coming off like Nina Hagen fronting Einstürzende Neubauten with Level 242 warming up backstage. The repetitive, martial stomp of “Chemie Des Alltags” sounds like Ultravox with balls, admittedly no small feat for a couple of chicks! There’s even a funky, wah-wah ass wiggle to “L.A. Shaker” that fondly recalls the best of Holly Golightly, and the disjointed, asymmetrical “Tenthousand Tissues” wails like The Raincoats with a beatbox.

Not everything is successful, however; although, luckily for the girls’ sake, it’s the collaborations that don’t work: an ill-advised stab at psychedelia with Thomas Fehlman (“High Is The Pine”) falls flat, the silly rap collaboration with Eric Clark (“I Like It When It Burns A Bit”) is unnecessarily perverse and cloyingly annoying, despite an admittedly catchy beat, and the headache-inducing, techno/rap noise confab with Rashad  Becker and Patric Catini (“Ledercouch”) is best avoided altogether. But the fun returns on “Cobra Movement,” which sounds like The B-52’s on acid and is probably a barnstorming sight to behold at their legendary, clothing-challenged live gigs, which are reportedly a hoot-and-a-half. “Heavy Rotation” is a bubbling cauldron of party beats, Go-Go girl glitz and another guaranteed dancefloor stormer, and the gals end with the appropriately-titled shouter “Yes, I’m Finished.” It’s obvious from most of these baker’s dozen fodderstompers that these girls just wanna have fun. Let’s just say that Cobra Killer came, saw and conquered my heart and they will yours, too.

Donovan – Beat Café (Appleseed)

Forty years and two dozen albums after he burst onto the British music scene as number 45 in a continuing series of “Dylan wanna-be’s,” Don returns with a refreshing approach to his craft – a semi-concept album that takes place on the stage of the titular hole in the wall, a ‘50’s supper club where beat poets, cool daddy-o’s, hot women and assorted unkempt and slightly dazed denizens of the deep gathered to worship at the unwashed feet of their hero. Toe-tappin’, fingerpoppin’ ditties are on tonight’s musical menu, beginning with a snappy rewrite of “Barabajagal” (“Love Floats.”) Danny Thompson’s upright bass and Jim Keltner’s brushstroke drumming sidle alongside producer John Chelew’s cheesy Hammond B3 punctuations on “Poorman’s Sunshine,” while the syncopated backbeat of the title track, with it’s “go man go” lyrics populated with “cool music and slow chicks” takes us back to kinder, gentler days. I expected Don to break into a rendition of “Fever” at any minute!

The Top Cat-Meets-Pink Panther musical accompaniment keeps things light and airy throughout. “Yin My Yang” is sunshiny, ‘60s French pop a la Serge Gainsbourg, as Don sings of “music in the air and flowers in your hair” over Chelew’s tasty period organ fills. “Whirlwind, “Lover O Lover” and closer “Shambhala” abandon the concept briefly as Don steps out of character to fall back on his still vibrant trademark vibrato.

Not everything is successful, however. The fairy tale for adults “Two Lovers” is pretty incomprehensible (I reread the lyrics three times and it still doesn’t make any sense) and “The Question” finds Don falling into a silly rap parody of Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs with nonsensical lyrics echoing his “goo goo barabajagal” droolings: “Holla ma gollo aholla” indeed! But the bluesy peacock strut of “Lord Of The Universe” returns Don to his senses with a ballsy swagger that Rod Stewart would die for and “The Cuckoo” features a softshoe shuffle that recalls Dylan’s “Lily, Rosemary and The Jack of Hearts” and’ll set a toe or two a-tappin’! Kudos once again to Keltner for his sprightly backbeat which keeps this little tale light on its feet. 

Fresh off a fairly successful children’s album a couple of years ago (Pied Piper), it’s great to have Don singing to us adults once again after a nearly decade-long absence since Sutras back in 1996. Welcome back, stranger!

Oz Fritz – All Around The World (Sub Rosa)

Released under the aegis of Bill Laswell’s Material project, this is a collection of field recordings of sacred places that Fritz made in order to explore his hypothesis that, in simplified terms, “the atmosphere, the quality and aesthetic of mood found at holy shrines may be recorded and transmitted… The intention here is to use sound as a means of exploring space.” Our musical trans-global express has scheduled stops to eavesdrop on prayer calls in Tashkent, chanting monks at the Basilica de Sacre Couer in Paris, tinny horns at an Arabic horse show at the pyramids in Giza – all collected in the lengthy opener, “What Is Your Job,” wherein Fritz replies with the self-described explanation of what’s happening here, “I record sounds.”

Fans of gothic horror movies like Phantom of the Opera will enjoy the pipe organ at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris on “Our Lady,” complete with the congregation’s muffled coughs and general milling about. Anyone who’s ever toured the cathedral will recognize the ambience of sightseeing commingled with religious ceremony if you happen upon a mass in progress during your visit. “Easter Sunday Midnight Mass” is exactly as described – spent in the company of chanting Tamil priests at the Mount St. Thomas shrine in Madras, India. Unintelligible, but rhythmically hypnotic … perhaps the result of Fritz’s clandestine recording? Elsewhere, the hauntingly harmonic chanting of the Australian Outback is captured in “Marralyil,” which I guarantee you’ll be humming to yourself long before the track ends.

Not everything works, however: “Bell of Sacre Couer/Showtime at Giza” is a mess of confusing noises, sound effects and general mayhem with no inherent direction or raison d’etre, as is “West African Night,” which mostly consists of an uninteresting collection of percussive effects, while “Next Stop Bedford Avenue” is an unnecessary exercise in comparing and contrasting the sounds of the New York subway system with the Paris Metro which overstates the obvious: that the manic insanity of rush hours are the same no matter where you live.

It is these environmental ambient tracks that are the least successful; the album is best when it explores the musical traditions of obscure and remote peoples and, as such, I’d have to say that, based on this evidence, Fritz’ hypothesis is not proven or, rather, not very interesting. These recordings are based on his interpretation of John Cage’s theory that “a new way of hearing music may occur for the attentive listener…who places musical value on common sounds and elements of noise…[m]usic that exists outside the structure of chords, scales and orthodox harmonic patterns.” [From Fritz’ liner notes.] While a few of these recordings do just that (“Temple Drumming” at the Ayuppa Temple in Madras, “Holy Beggars” chanting in Tokyo, Tashkent and India), it is the recordings of traditionally structured sounds (what us Westerners might typically describe as “music”) that works best. The rest are mere ambient noises that the Western ear, at least, is programmed to tune out.

Part sociological travelogue, part ethnological musical journey, this is still a wonderful primer for the state of ethnic music All Around the World, particularly for anyone interested in exploring non-Western modes of musical expression.

Hard Sleeper – “Rain”/A Spiral Leaf (Sub Rosa)

This new two-song, album-length release from Dubliner Peter Maybury (aka Hard Sleeper) begins with “Rain,” a 23½ minute piece of ambient electronics, combining subtle, repetitive, forlorn piano beats with liberal doses of electronic “glitch” music peppered throughout. One could argue, as John Cage often did, that any combination of sounds or noises can be classified as “music,” and if you could imagine sparks flying off a subway or trolley car or downed electrical wire morphing into the repetitive “bloop-bloop” of raindrops falling onto a puddle or surface of a lake, you’ll have a good idea of the opening ‘sounds” of the first third of “Rain.”

More found sounds, percussives, radio waves and video arcade bleeps and bloops are looped with the ever-present glitches to form the beat-heavy midsection, which quietly folds into the four-part, 18-minute second track, again relying on ambient, electronic glitches and appealing mainly to those that are hypnotized by the repetitive clicks and pops of a scratchy record (which is, after all, one of the intentions of glitch music – to explore, through recreation, the sound of your old, scratchy vinyl). Talk about coming full circle! This may be a bit deep for those of you who thought the whole attraction and marketing ploy of CDs was to replace that vinyl, not recreate it!

Throughout the four parts, you’ll hear recurring patterns of cooing pigeons, humming refrigerators, buzzing speakers, whispering oxygen tanks, ear-piercing dog whistles and transatlantic radio transmissions. These two challenging compositions will mainly be of interest to fans of experimental electronica, particularly glitch music and the more avant garde musique concrete and a fitting addition to the collections of fans who own Maybury’s two earlier albums (his self-titled 2000 debut on Émigré and this year’s earlier release, Land on Fällt) as well as compilations such as OHM: The Early Gurus of Electronic Music (Ellipsis Arts, 2000) and The Conet Project (Irdial, 1997).

The Hives – Tyrannosaurus Hives (Interscope)

It’s been four years since The Hives’ last album, but, like The Stooges, Motörhead and Ramones before them, if you’ve heard one Hives’ song, you’ve heard ‘em all. (Of course, it helps that all their albums are written by the enigmatic Randy Fitzsimmons, alleged Svengali/manager/A&R contact, etc., who is also rumored to be guitarist Nicholaus Arson – although he vehemently denies this.) So the dozen tracks that make up their third album will please existing fans, but won’t necessarily make any new converts. Highlights include the quickening pulsebeat of “Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones” and the nice ‘n sleazy lead single, “Walk Idiot Walk,” which manages to excite in the finest New York Dolls tradition, despite a glaring guitar riff that was stolen right out from under “Clash City Rockers.”

Singer Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist’s overly dramatic narration on “Diabolic Scheme” falls somewhere between Alex Harvey’s “Framed” and “The Tomahawk Kid,” Mick Farren’s “Memphis Psychosis” and Iggy’s “Turn Blue,” and I also liked the short, sharp burst of fresh air that is “See Thorough Head.” New school punkers like Green Day and Rancid could do worse than learning “Love in Plaster” and immediately adding it to their setlists, and the silly-yet-infectious “Dead Quote Olympics” reminds us that, despite all its misguided polemics and political posturing, punk could be hysterically funny as exemplified by the likes of Sham 69, The Lurkers and The Boys.

So, while there’s nothing you haven’t heard already, it’s still high energy, sweaty garage punk, and fans of old school British punkers like 999, Generation X and The Adverts who wonder where all the good bands went will find they’ve packed up their old kit bag and moved to Sweden.

The Kulta Beats – Civilize the Brutes (Cutwater) 

The best Cockney accents are coming out of  Norway these days, as is immediately evident on the opening track (“Diplomacy Of The Dead”) of this Trondheim band’s debut album, which melds the vaudevillian pomp and punk of the Sensational Alex Harvey Band, Wreckless Eric and Ian Dury & The Blockheads to catchy, big-beat harmonies a la Small Faces and Pete Townsend’s rock operas. “Medicine Monday” is all punk and snotty swagger, and fans of the Kulta’s Scandinavian neighbors to the east, Sweden’s Hives, will enjoy the cheesy keys and sweaty swagger with attitude aplenty that is “Oh Wolfman (Thou Cometh).”

The bottom drops out of “Livingrooms and Halls,” a plaintive, rather uninteresting ballad that, despite assistance from Dipsomaniac mentors, Cutwater label owners and fellow Trondheimers, Øyvind Holm and Thomas Henriksen (who also produced), leaves the listener dangling in the breeze like a malcontent with the rug pulled out from under him. “Loose Fit” is another headscratcher, with vocalist Christopher Glass inexplicably emulating a castrated Difford/Tilbrook squeal. “Julia Kristeva” is more Iggy/Stooge-mania, while “This Crowd Is Not A Nation” evinces a strong fascination with Shaun Ryder and his Happy (albeit, heavy metal) Mondays.

Ten bonus points for name-checking Fire’s cult psych classic “Father’s Name Was Dad” in the title track, a swirling, slice of Buzzcockian guitar sprawl that is one of the album’s many highlights, as is the psychedelically-tinted “Ice Blocks,” which pleasantly reminded me of Ryder fronting Kula Shaker. Sloppy, snotty, smarmy…and recommended.

Les McCann – Invitation To Openness (Water)

Over 25 albums deep into his recording catalogue, “Invitation” stands as McCann’s magnum opus, highlighted by the jaw-droppingly brilliant, 26-minute, side-long jam, “The Lovers.” A baker’s dozen dream team (including five drummers/percussionists, two electric guitarists and a harpist) gathered in Atlantic Records studios in Manhattan one day back in 1971 to breath life into McCann’s dream. Comparing the final result to “The Balero,” McCann originally wanted to call it “Phucking,” but settled for the label’s compromise. Now I’m the first to admit that I’m not the world’s biggest jazz fan, but I know what I like and McCann’s space jam is definitely on my shortlist of favorites. The  compositions I enjoy most glide by effortlessly, subliminally entertaining me as I go about my daily routines. Like a first-rate film director guiding his actors through improvisational scenes and whose presence is invisible to the viewer, McCann told producer Joel Dorn to “get these guys in the room, kill the light, then I come in and start playing and we’ll see what happens.” Bassist Jimmy Rowser said, “there was no prewritten music, no tunes, no rehearsals. We just showed up and started playing.”

Breathtakingly unforgettable in its simplicity, there’s not a misplaced note to jar you out of your reverie. In fact, 21-year old guitarist David Spinozza’s searing wah-wah guitar may be the opening segment’s most recognizeable element, with Yusef Lateef’s snakecharming oboe soloing close behind. At about the 10-minute mark, you may find yourself doing a double take at McCann’s familiar piano tinkling that sounds just like Ray Manzarek’s opening solo to “Riders on the Storm.” All the while, drummer Donald Dean keeps a steady, unobtrusive pulsebeat, and his interplay with Spinozza midway through the track is as tight as Fripp and Bruford’s syncopated shenanigans during King Crimson’s heyday. And I’d swear I heard vestiges of Traffic’s “Glad” at about the 16-minute mark, particularly in McCann’s playing off Rowser’s puntuated basslines.

Dean’s hyperactive timekeeping bolsters Lateef’s colorful flutelines on the clumsily-titled “Beaux J. Poo Boo.” There’s a playful, earcatching quality to McCann’s variations on the tune’s single chord, similar in feel to the early film and TV work of Quincy Jones. Listeners approaching the album from the rock medium may again find easy comparisons to Soft Machine or “John Barleycorn”-era Traffic, with the delicately intricate skinwork of Jim Capaldi, Robert Wyatt and John Dunsmore recognizeable reference points.

The final track, boasting the cumbersome Bill Cosby-ish title, “Poo Pye McGoochie (and his friends),” opens with McCann’s gentle piano motiv until his John Murtaugh-programmed Moog synthesizer introduces itself into the mix. Then things really get weird! Bassists Rowser and Bill Salter’s dueling solos introduce the first jam, centered around Spinozza and fellow guitarist Cornell Dupree’s call and response interplay with Lateef’s funky tenor sax soloing. A brief Crimsonesque interlude introduces the second jam, a punchy, rocking segment that yields to McCann’s playful ruminations. The final jam brings the group together for one last run through the main theme before Bernard Purdie’s rousing drum solo wraps up this wonderfully tight package, lovingly assembled (as usual) by the wonderful folks over at Water Records with their typically informative, 16-page glossy booklet including producer Dorn’s and author Ron Neal’s original liner notes and up-to-date essays and interviews (with McCann, Dorn and others) by Peter Relic. You don’t have to love jazz to love Invitation To Openness. Fans of Traffic, King Crimson, Soft Machine and other jazz-inflected rock ensembles will certainly want this in their collections.

The Neighbors – “Mobile Homes” EP (Realm of Records)

The punchy, sharp opener of the latest release from the insanely prolific Allen Farmelo and his Buffalo trailer trashmen (“Monotonous”) reminds me of the Dandy Warhols, ca. Come Down crossbred with the ballsy, grungy crunch of Neil Young riding his Crazy Horse into the sunset; “Jack-O-Lantern” is sprightly, infectious pop that reminded me of those irresistibly catchy Saturday morning cartoon theme songs that I grew up on, such as “The Banana Splits,” “Speed Racer” and “Spiderman.” If Hanna-Barbera ever decided to create a new series centered around the exploits of a friendly pumpkinhead saving his hometown from invading zombies and evil Halloween spirits – imagine all those costumes coming to life and taking over the lives of the little kiddies inside them – then they need look no further for its theme song.

Aficionados of long-forgotten, but great 80s power pop bands like The Beat, The Pop and 20/20 will enjoy “Young and Out of Control,” although I would have preferred less distortion on the vocal front, and closer, “In For The Night” (despite its wonderful double-entendre title that may keep it off the more conservative college radio playlists) is another bouncy pop gem that can proudly hold its head high alongside Guided By Voices’ and Husker Dü’s more accessible efforts. So while the production could be a little crisper and cleaner, there’s no denying the hookladen charm of this EP, and the curious are encouraged to check out (and download) Allen and the band’s six other releases, including Allen’s 70-song collection of demos (DEMOlition DEMOnstration) on their fun and informative website.

Sahara Hotnights – Kiss and Tell (RCA)

Like The Donnas before them, these Swedish twentysomethings’ major label debut (third overall) doesn’t lose any appreciable energy (read: sell out). It’s still a lightweight collection of top down, convertible-cruisin’ summer music with its heart on its sleeve and its head in the clouds. The semi-autobiographical “Hot Night Crash” is a rowdy fist pumper with Maria Andersson’s voice demonstrating the occasional Chrissie Hynde snarl. “Empty Heart” is sticky, bubblegum pop of the Betty and Veronica variety with occasional forays into Jem and Josie & The Pussycats territory, although, like Joan Jett, Andersson tends to scream more than sing her lyrics.

I also liked the glammy headbanging of “Walk On The Wire,” which had me digging out my old Girlschool albums (always a good thing) and the snappy dual guitar attack between Andersson and Jennie Asplund elevates the catchy “Mind Over Matter” to one of the year’s finest singles. The kids’ll be humming this one in high school hallways all over the world.

The nasty “Nerves” features more blazing guitar solos and spitfire Stoogey swagger as the gals tear a page out of fellow countrymen The Hives’ playbook. But then they get all soft and cooey on The Go-Go’s-ish “Stay/Stay Away” and I just wanna wrap them up in my arms and give ‘em a great big kiss. Awwww! Another killer single in the wings.

So,  building on previous efforts, the gals combine their debut’s snotty, messy innocense with Jennie Bomb’s pastiche of pop confections, leaving the experiments behind for pure, unadulterated fun, proving that the third time’s a charm. With The Go-Go’s brilliant comeback apparently just a one-off and The Bangles’ reunion best forgotten, the Hotnights rival perhaps only The Donnas as the world’s best all-girl rock and roll band.

The Satyrswitch – The High Lonesome Sound of… (Camera Obscura)

As a longtime champion of the Minneapolis underground music scene, I’ve frequently promoted the works of  Skye Klad, Salamander, Gentle Tasaday, Ousia, et. al., so I’m pleased to add this solo project of Skye Klad vocalist/guitarist, Jason Kesselring (along with invited guests from the aforementioned acts) to the growing list of great bands emanating from the Twin Cities. Kesselring’s Ian Curtis-styled gothic death metal vocals, one of the prime components of Skye Klad’s sound, is in stark contrast to the mostly traditional folk tunes interpreted here, such as the two opening tracks, “Boys of Bedlam” and “Jack Orion.” Skye Klad partner Erik Wivinus adds additional guitar on the latter, a toe-tappin’, bar-brawlin’ barnstormer that inexplicably seems to stop mid-verse.

The Kesselring original “Angel of Wolves” is a headswaying sea shanty whose melody seems overly derivative of Lee Hazelwood’s “Some Velvet Morning” and, as such, may have benefited from some female accompaniment. The short, acoustic burst of “Second Air” is grounded in the work of Davey Graham and Bert Jansch, while the yee-hah, shitkickin’, country-flavored “Under the Double Eagle” is a catchy saloon tune that’ll have Matt Dillon kickin’ up his heels with Miss Kitty at the Longbranch Saloon in old Dodge City.

Kesselring and Co. (Wivinus and Jason’s wife, Chrissy on keyboard sitar) take a valient stab at “Ghost Riders in the Sky,” but Salamander’s jaw-dropping version on the recent Hand/Eye compilation has all but rendered further interpretations superflouous. Having played on that previous version, perhaps Wivinus might have encouraged his pal to look elsewhere for a different inspirational track to cover. Things are righted quickly on “Israfel,” a raga-styled jam of fancy fretwork that rivals Robbie Basho and Sandy Bull as well as the work of current masters of the form like 6 Organs of Admittance’s Ben Chasney, Cul De Sac’s Glenn Jones, and Magic Carpathian, Marek Stycsynski.

“Kindred,” again featuring Kesselring’s wife on keyboard sitar may not be his strongest vocal performance, but it does emit somewhat of a stoner, improvisational vibe a la Ya Ho Wa 13. Then it’s time to break out the Thai sticks for the lengthy (7:00) traditional arrangement of “Nottamun Town,” which actually had me thinking I was joining Cary Wolf on one of his Stuntz’s Blue Leg expeditions only to find more than ‘shrooms and what I bargained for at the end of the rainbow. The stony, heavy-lidded, intimate living room vibe of Kesselring’s delivery only adds to its inimitable charm.

All in all, another wonderful addition to the rapidly expanding oeuvre of marvelous wyrdfolk releases and highly recommended to fans of the aforementioned artists, as well as Stone Breath, In Gowan Ring, Martyn Bates, and older classics like the Paul Butterfield Blues Band’s East-West, Seventh Sons’ 4 a.m. At Frank’s, or Jorma’s Quah (the bluesy closer “Three Maidens” oozes a particularly fine taste of Hot Tuna overdosed with a World Serpent sensibility).

Speed Limit 35 – Speed Limit 35 (RD Records)

In 1968, Stephen Scott, who had played in bands like Homer & The Don’ts and Ladies WC (see our review of the latter’s wonderful reissue) in his native Venezuela, relocated to South Carolina and joined Speed Limit 35, a band that had built up a loyal following at the nearby University of South Carolina. Having graduated from a local barband playing Hendrix and Cream covers to the first acid rock band in S.C., they made it all the way to New York City before returning to Columbia, where, according to Scott’s liner notes, “they became more involved in acid and less in rock.” By 1969, the band, now a three piece including Paul Swenson on drums and Bobby Walker on guitar and influenced by Scott’s blues background, began playing at local clubs in the Carolinas. Opening for artists as diverse as Linda Ronstadt, Brownsville Station and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band! In April, 1970, the band scored the opening slot for Steppenwolf at the Columbia Coliseum and that performance is lovingly captured on side A of this reissue.

Opener “Song in ‘A’” has a good-time, Grateful Dead party feel to get the crowd on their feet and “Anthem” features a laidback, bluesy psych vibe. The jammy “Song in ‘E’” demonstrates the band’s considerable chops, eliciting favorable comparisons with mid-flight CSNY, and is liberally seasoned with Walker’s bluesy solos. The band’s sound may actually be closer in spirit to John Kay’s bluesier pre-Steppenwolf band, Sparrow, but nevertheless serves them well in their allotted task of pumping up the kids for the main course.

The success of the gig brought the band to New York where they recorded demos at Mercury Studios, selections of which are presented as the album’s B-side. The two-part, 11½-minute “Shoeshine Man” is a heavy lidded headnodder. Part one combines laid-back acoustic jamming with bluesy guitar runs from Walker, while part two captures the band headed full steam into the stratosphere, highlighted by some wicked harp blowing and tasty guitar runs. “Break My Day” finds the boys in a more acoustic, reflective mood, with sax work particularly effective and Scott’s mournful, bluesy wail hitting all the right emotional buttons.

In 1971, the author/director of an Off-Off-Broadway play, Alice (based on Alice in Wonderland) saw the band perform at USC’s Campus Club South and was impressed enough to invite them to write the music for his play. While Scott does not believe the play was ever produced, Swiss label owner Raymond Dumont (who is responsible for this wonderful reissue), also bought the rights to their score (which, Scott also informed me, included "Break My Day"), so hopefully we’ll be hearing more from Speed Limit 35 before too long. 

In the meantime, enjoy these boogie boys bleed the blues and marvel at Walker’s screaming solos, which are particularly awe-inspiring. Fans of better-than-competently played bluesy rock (laced with the occasional acid flourish) in the styles of Paul Butterfield, Steve Miller, and Canned Heat as well as collectors of similarly sounding artifacts from the Rockadelic label have cause for celebration at the unearthing of this buried treasure and should place it at the top of their wish list.

Toog – Lou Etendue (Karaoke Kalk)

Toog is the pseudonym of Gilles Weinzaepflen, a 38-year old French musician from Mulhouse, near the Swiss border. In September, 2001, just a few days before a scheduled flight to New York, he met actress (XXX)/model/filmmaker (Scarlet Diva)/pin-up babe Asia Argento, daughter of cult horror film maestro, Dario in Paris. Then terrorists destroyed the Twin Towers and Toog and Argento were stuck in Paris. Recalling a similar chance meeting between French poet Apollinaire and Louise de Coligny-Châtillon in Nice on almost the exact same day (September 6) 87 years earlier, Toog devised a concept album about “a love story in a time of terrorism,” in which he and Asia would reprise the roles of Apollinaire and Lou (as the poet referred to her in his posthumously published  “Poemes à Lou”). The result, a limited edition, 4-track EP, “Anna-Lou” was released in late 2001 in Japan. Several years later, Toog contacted the third ingredient in this apocalyptic stew, 24-year old French composer/producer, Digiki, who brings a metallic, glitchy experimental sheen to Toog’s subtle electronics. [You can read Digiki’s description of the collaboration here.]

The melodic, keyboard “Opening” is occasionally interrupted with shards of metallic noise, perhaps a portend of the evil which lies in wait. Argento narrates her self-composed tale of “Ugly Ducklings” over what sounds like an accordion or harmonium backing. She sings the song’s dénouement in a voice not unlike the saner, more accessible moments of a Nina Hagen or Diamanda Galas.

“Les Belles Endormies” is a sweet, romantic French pop song in the style of Jacques Brel or Serge Gainsbourg, yet it is also as contemporary as Air. “Terroriste” is, as expected, a harsh, industrial slap in the face – think of a French Nine Inch Nails or, perhaps more in line with the 9/11 tragedy, Einstürzende Neubauten (literally, “collapsing new buildings.”) [This is the first track Took and Digiki worked on and has been called “Toog at hardcore, German industrial goth pop.” I think that hits the nail on the head.]

“Boîte à musique” is a mostly instrumental slice of musique concrète, followed by “A Son Cou,” an excellent example of Digiki’s “glitch” influences, which, for those unfamiliar with the genre, sounds like a scratchy, skipping record. Again, the NIN influence, particularly the more experimental pieces on The Downward Spiral will be recognizable here.

The Apollinaire connection is solidified with Toog’s recitation of the poet’s “Les 9 Portes” (aka, "Les neuf portes de ton corps") over a ruminating piano backing, and Digiki returns to his old, glitchy tricks on the title track (“Etendue”), which “skips” so much, it sounds like your CD player is broken and the disk is permanently stuck in the digital equivalent of a lockgroove! Argento returns to narrate the closing “Side Love Project,” describing both America’s rebuilding efforts and humanity’s resiliency in the face of unspeakable horror and insanity. Toog’s musical accompaniment assumes a playful, xylophone-styled groove, yet Digiki’s ever-present distortions and sound manipulations  illustrate the evil that constantly walks amongst us, cautioning us against the dangers of complacency.

At times evocatively beautiful, Toog’s French narration almost makes the experience similar to listening to the soundtrack of a Jean-Luc Godard film, minus the images, particularly with Godard’s frequent interruptions in the narrative to insert excerpts from other media (especially quotes from poems, novels, newspaper articles, etc.) as Toog does here with Apollinaire.

Patty Waters – You Thrill Me (Water)

Whether it’s a catchy “Jax Beer Commercial” or a sultry, smoky torch song a la Nina Simone or Lena Horne (the title track), this warts-and-all compilation of demos, home recordings and studio outtakes from her private collection highlights two decades in the raspy-voiced Waters’ early career (it’s subtitled “A Musical Odyssey 1960-1979”). The studio banter between Waters and producer Tom Wilson on her 1964 Columbia demo is particularly enlightening as he coddles, coaches and lovingly encourages his charge through the intricacies of recording her compositions, “You Thrill Me,” “Why Can’t I Come To You” and “At Last I Found You,” and one can imagine him doing the same during the early stages of Dylan and Simon and Garfunkle’s careers at approximately the same time. At one point on the latter track, for example, Waters breaks down and stops the recording session, claiming she’s “too hoarse to continue,” only to have Wilson assure her they’ll “fix it in the mix.”

These stripped-down arrangements (it’s basically Patty and her piano, and the naked photo of Patty in her apartment in San Francisco, ca. 1970 is completely apropos and not just tossed in for prurient interests) add to the childlike innocense and intimate living-room warmth of the neophyte singer wrapping her tonsils around these occasionally difficult standards like Hoagy Carmichael’s “Georgia,” Billie Holiday’s “Fine And Mellow” and Rodgers and Hart’s “Spring Is Here” (the latter a home recording from her apartment in San Diego back in 1960) and making them uniquely her own. “For All We Know” is also particularly revealing in this regard.

Fragments (sometimes limited to a single verse) of her self-penned “I Love You Honey,” “Love Is The Warmth Of Togetherness,” “At Last I Know (I Belong To You)” and a spoken-word rendition of “Please Make Love To Me” demonstrate her ease with “free jazz” expression and improvised sound that would be the hallmarks of her two ESP-Disk albums Patty Sings and College Tour from 1965 and ’66, respectively (both recently reissued by the label on CD). Eventually this becomes a little unsettling and the listener gets a little fidgety sitting through these Greatest Hits-styled medleys, waiting for a complete song.

So while this collection is certainly required listening for Waters completists, fans of the recent work of Marianne Faithfull (particularly her covers album, Strange Weather and her collaboration with Angelo Badalamenti, Secret Life) should also take note. I find it interesting that it took Faithfull 30 years to arrive at the point in her career where she was exploring the vocal stylings that Waters introduced right out of the gate, which illustrates how far ahead of her time she was. And fans of Felt may even find an insight into Martin Duffy’s “Sending Lady Load” (off The Pictorial Jackson Review) in Waters’ epic 14½ minute piano solo, “Touched By Rodin In A Paris Museum” from 1970. We applaud Water (the label) and Mushroom drummer Pat Thomas (who co-produced this collection from Patty’s reel-to-reel, acetate, and cassette source material into a thoroughly enjoyable, professional sounding release) for rescuing Waters from anonymity with her first release since 1996’s Love Songs (Jazz Forum). Essays from Byron Coley and Patty herself and an introduction from Ghost vocalist Masaki Batoh once again lovingly place her influences into perspective. You Thrill Me is the perfect companion to a “mental health day” at home on a cold winter’s day nestled under the blankets with a large plate of chewy chocolate chip cookies. Mmm-mmm, good!

Zukanican – “E 5number” EP (Pickled Egg)

Leicester’s Pickled Egg has provided us with some of the quirkiest noisepop of the new century, from the pop-metal clang of Tokyo’s Pop-Off Tuesday to the wonderfully avant jazz squawkings of Neutral Milk Hotel offshoot, Bablicon, featuring former Hotelier Jeremy Barnes masquerading as Marta Tennae. Like some of our other favorite indie labels, England’s Woronzow and Australia’s Camera Obscura, Nigel Turner and company recently passed the magic 50^th release mark with this limited edition 10” EP (Cat. No. Egg 51) and it’s a little gem.

The abrasively aggressive, yet eerily catchy opener “Somb” combines theremin, bubbling electronics a la Ozric Tentacles and shards of metallic sheet metal (courtesy guest soundsculptist, Harry Sumnall of fellow Liverpudlian psychsters, Lazily Spun) that immediately slices the jugular and puts the listener on notice that this is certainly not a collection of circus music for the kiddies. Harry’s brother Tom’s rolling bass drags “Medallion” out from under its heavily percussive metallic environs (the band’s dueling drummers, James Pagella and Domino Nagasaki are key ingredients in shaping the group’s bottom-heavy, rhythmic sonics) and imparts a pleasant, jazzy vibe to the proceedings. Side one’s closer, “Lack of Signage” tosses some Spanish trumpet (from Phil Lucking) and various brass utterances (from ex-Spiritualized hornman, Ray Dickaty) into the mix and is not far removed from a chance meeting between Bablicon and Neutral Milk on that proverbial dissecting table, with liberal doses of horny avant weirdness (think Norway’s Origami Republika artists collective, V. Majestic or Spaceheads) sprinkled throughout. ‘Tis a groovy sound collage, mon!

The flip side features the Crimsonesque syncopation and motorik space sounds of “Pay Never” (kudos once again to dual drummers Pagella and Nagasaki and funky bassist Sumnall, who will have you “fahren auf der Autobahn” at neck-breaking speeds with the wind in your hair and a smile on your face). It even ends with some heavily-treated, distorted laughter! The bubbling, shearing white noise of “Moonstew” will have you moonwalking to the beat of a different drum, and the EPs closing “Dust from A Goose” is a shitstorm of a sexy, saxy skronkfest that sounds like Coltrane stumbling, mid-trip, into a Sun Ra Arkestra jam session. Definitely not for the feint of heart, which is exactly what we expect from Pickled Egg. “E 5number” won’t disappoint the adventurous fans of avant jazzy noisepop.