Marianne Faithfull - Kissin Time (Virgin)

Marianne's return to rock and roll and recovery from career suicide exemplified by albums devoted to lounge songs (Strange Weather) and movie music (Angelo Badalamenti's A Secret Life), and the embarrassingly dull and lifeless, Vagabond Ways, is a sort of mini-Duets popularized by Sir Elton a few years back. Faithfull's collaborators (Beck, Pulp, Blur, Billy Corgan, Dave Stewart) are a little more hip than Elton's, and the album, for the most part, is a success.

The sound of Marianne rapping over the annoyingly clanging hip-hop beats of the vastly overrated Beck is not the most promising way to open your "comeback album," although it might move a few more copies over into the "sold" column. Marianne wrote her own electronic drums 'n bass dance beats to "The Pleasure Song" to slightly better effect. The grooves are a little easier to dance to and this one will probably have them bouncing around the dance floors at discos and nightclubs in New York, London, Paris, Munich and anyplace else that people talk about, mmm, pop music.

The second of three Beck collaborations, "Like Being Born" jettisons the annoying background noise in favor of chamberlain and celeste programming resulting in a beautiful, melodic, reflective song, somewhat reminiscent of Judy Collins' "My Father."

Corgan buries Marianne's voice under an invisible choir of backing vocalists to the point that "I'm on Fire," their first collaboration, comes across like a female Leonard Cohen. "Wherever I Go" fares much better. Over a swaying, melodic, pop melody, Marianne's whiskey-soaked, nicotine-stained vocals recall a woman who has survived the ravages of the rock and roll lifestyle by finding someone she can depend on to accompany her through the rough spots.

"Song for Nico" should be subtitled "The Pot Who Called The Kettle Black," but it is still a provocative slice-of-life with an evocative, elaborately arranged string accompaniment courtesy Dave Stewart (he of the Eurythmics and Tourists, not the former Egg/National Health/Hatfield and the North member and ex-Stiff recording artiste). This eerily recalls the aura and vibe of another Stewart: Al's "Year of the Cat."

Pulp is Marianne's backing band for "Sliding Through Life On Charm," a foul-mouthed description and, perhaps, explanation of how she got away with the recent entries in her discography. Beck throws the kitchen sink at "Nobody's Fault": a guitar solo, rolling melody, and strings serpentine around Marianne's dreamy vocals, which relay yet another version of the story behind her rise and fall. Blur provide the backing for the title track, a funky fodder stomp with a lengthy chorus ("Your time will come") bordering on gospel fervor. A superfluous cover of Herman's Hermits "Something Good" rounds out the collection.

For the curious, it's certainly not nearly in the same league as the trio of albums Marianne released during her first comeback, but as another attempt to give it the old college try, it's a damn sight better than the Vagabond Ways fiasco a few years back. Personally, I think Broken English, Dangerous Acquaintances, and A Child's Adventure are the only Faithfull albums you need to own, but this is a fairly decent attempt to ride on the coat heels of a few "A" list nutters, and get her name back in the public consciousness, and is not totally without its own giddy charm.

The Dukes of Hamburg - Some Folks (Gearhead)
www.gearheadrecords.com

Speaking of "A" class nutters, I'm not sure who the imposters masquerading under the wigs and behind the phony German aliases and backgrounds are, so this review is based strictly on the music and not on the reputation of whoever the real band is. Regardless, I must say this is the most fun I've had in ages, and you can think of it as a garage version of The Rutles or, more to the point based on that name, XTCs psychedelic side project, The Dukes of Stratosphear. Even the title is a bit of a pun, as several of the tracks are covers of old "folk" standards, "Greensleeves" and "Old McDonald."

Right out of the gate, "Mercy Mercy" filters vintage Stones through the Chocolate Watchband sensibility, and their arrangement of Cole Porter's "Women" comes across like the Stones covering Chuck Berry's "Round and Round."

"Little by Little" throws some rockabilly licks into a mean guitar solo, which melds into a wicked harp solo for some pure, dirtyass rock and roll. "Monkey Monkey" sounds like a bunch of drunken frat boys running through the Rockpile songbook, complete with viscous guitar solos and Nick Lowe's trademark rolling bass line. Imagine Mojo Nixon fronting Rockpile! "Empty Heart" rides along a funky, wah-wah guitar line not unlike The Ventures at their peak, complete with the omnipresent nasty, snarling, Jagger-like vocals. "Far Far Away" is an amphetamine-fueled tailpipe sniffer, and their arrangement of the requisite "Hey Joe" is unique to my ears for throwing the rhythm track from The Byrds' "I'll Feel A Whole Lot Better" underneath. 

The rest of the album is more of the same: more screaming, more hooting and hollering, a few more blistering guitar solos and some wild harp blowing. If that's your cup of tea, by all means, jump right in. It's the next best thing to breaking out the first couple of Stones albums. Now if I could only figure out who these guys really are, I might want to investigate some of their own recordings.

The Residents - Demons Dance Alone (East Side Digital)
www.e-s-d.com

Like chocolate-covered grasshoppers, raw fish, cow's stomachs, and head cheese, the world's most infamously anonymous band are an acquired taste. Their eyeballs have been hiding from the public eye for 30 years now and their latest falls into the category of their more accessible (i.e., listenable) releases. For starters, they stick to traditional, recognizable song structures. I'd also lump this one in with their theatrical recordings, as it sounds like a soundtrack to some forthcoming musical. They continue to employ female vocalists throughout (as on "The Weatherman," "Caring," and many others), and you'll also find the typically wacky nonsensical marriage of voice and electronics ("Ghost Child"). The whole elaborate hoax could even be experienced as a play called Tongue in three acts: "Loss," "Denial," and "Three Metaphors." And if you think any of this has anything to do with 911, The Residents have you right where they want you.

Their satirical wit hasn't left them, nor their ability to mimic popular icons - e.g., "Honey Bear" is a hysterical Leonard Cohen take-off/put-on that's better than anything on his most recent Ten Songs debacle. "The Car Thief" is a lovely paean to Bongwater during their frequent over-the-top excursions into the nether regions of sanity, while "Neediness" is an irreverent piece of Bonzo-inspired nonsense aimed at the ridiculous sycophantic, brothers-in-arms, "let's all unite against the common enemy" crap that the media has been shoving down our throat since 911.

I should also add that the between-act narration is completely muffled, so if there're any clues hidden therein as to what this whole farce is about, it's completely lost on me. Act Two: Denial is kicked off with the charming "Thundering Skies," one of those wordless vocals pieces that was all the rage back in the '60s and enjoyed a bit of a renaissance during the lounge revival a few years back. "Mickey Macaroni" is pure Zappa/Mothers-inspired lunacy complete with kid vocals that come across like some glee club from hell, a faux guitar solo, and typically asymmetrical song structure. "Betty's Body" finds Swans' Michael Gira donning Frank-n-furter's fishnets for our hero's Rocky Horror voyage around Betty's various body parts.

The remainder is more '80s electronic disco music dancing around Bonzos-meets-Mothers shenanigans with snippets of Ren & Stimpy, "Springtime for Hitler," and other exaggerated Broadway musicals. In other words, if you're a fan, you need it - if not, this won't convince you to seek out their back catalog which East Side has been reissuing with alarming frequency.

Cordelia's Dad - What It Is (Kimchee)
www.kimchee.com

This Amherst, Massachusetts trio has been around long enough to release seven albums, none of which I've heard, and if this is any indication of their previous efforts, I'm glad I haven't. I can't really tell you "what it is," but I can help unravel what it isn't: original, exciting, or memorable. The singer, presumably Tim Erickson, who wrote all the songs, sounds like Michael Stipe with a head cold, and the songs sound like something REM would relegate to a collection of b-sides. There's a little whiff of The Ass Ponies hovering in the room, but overall this falls into that "Americana" genre - the worst style of music since disco. Except disco had some memorable tunes mixed among the dross.

"Despair" and "Brethren Sing" are sung a capella for no apparent reason; "The Hammer" is a collection of sound effects, the most prominent of which is a guitar made to sound like a buzzsaw (so much for the song title!), and the most interesting thing about "Eyelove Music" is the title, although Chrissie Hynde has already been there with The Pretender's Isle of View unplugged collection, and if we go way back, Fairfield Parlour (the second coming of the British Kaleidoscope) released a single called "I Luv Wight" to commemorate that late '60s festival.

If you encounter this in your local indie shop while you're looking for something new and exciting, keep looking.

The Green Pajamas - "If She Only Knew" EP - Luna/Mr. Wiggs
www.lunamusic.com

The all-of-a-sudden prolific Pajamas return with this 4-song EP of original material on a small Indianapolis label. Far from being the throwaway songs that are occasionally saved for EPs and singles, Jeff Kelly & Co. turn in some first-rate tunes that would be welcome on most artist's full lengths. The title track is a straightforward pop song with a funky, sexy edge, and keyboardist Eric Lichter, who emerged as a major songwriter with his solo album earlier this year, continues to impress with the melancholic "Jessica Byron." This track is more melodic and linear than some of Lichter's tracks on previous Pajamas albums, and is my favorite amongst the three studio tracks included herein.

"When You're Good To Me" explores the Neil Young side of Kelly's guitar playing and songwriting abilities. It's a mature work with several time changes and mood shifts and may take a few listens to grow on you - in this case we can apply the "three Rs" of music: Repeat Reveals Rewards.

The EP concludes with an amazing 10-minute live version of Goblin Market's "Autumn Leaves," which is all in the family since GM is a side project of PJs Kelly and Laura Weller, whose husband, Scott provides tambourine. This version was recorded at a local Seattle radio station about a week before the band blew everyone away at Terrastock 4 when they closed their set with it. If you were there, this'll bring back great memories, and if you weren't, just sit back and marvel at the well-oiled, intricate machine that is a live Green Pajamas performance. From the gently whispered opening vocals to the full-on assault of the heavy metal maelstrom some 10 minutes later, this is a wonder to experience.

Less than a handful of live PJ performances have been officially released over the years, and while Indian Winter's "Any Time of Day" remains the pinnacle of those releases, their "Autumn Leaves" performance here is a close second. The ever-growing legion of Pajama fans will want to complete their collection with this EP, other interested parties should check it out - if for nothing else than to witness aurally one of today's finest bands- psych, pop, or otherwise- at the top of their game.

Ousia - Face The Robot (Mutant Music)
www.mutantmusic.com

"Robot In" opens this Minneapolis quartet's long anticipated follow-up to their award winning debut, 1997s Why Is That a Four with smooth, chill-out electronics. "Ebow Lullabye" combines the ambient atmospherics of Eno with the glacially shifting tones of Stars of The Lid or Azusa Plane. I was also reminded of Aeoliah's Angel Love, my favorite "chill-out" release of all time, so we're on strong footing here. Krautrock fans may also hear references to Tangerine Dream and (K)Cluster, which will give you a good idea of where these guys heads are at. Emanating from the frozen tundra of the incestuous Minnesota indie scene (bassist Dave Onnen performs the same duty for Skye Klad, another favorite around here, whose second release will be getting the once over next month), Ousia (ooh-SEE-ah) prefer to think of their ambient/noise/drone compositions as "Snowbient," and that's as good a description of their sound as I could ever come up with.

Songtitles are insignificant in instrumental music, serving merely as identificational place holders on a CD booklet, and they mean even less on this release, which should be experienced in its entirety as sequenced by the band. Besides, I doubt much gray matter was wasted coming up with titles like "Robot In," "Robot Out," "Face The Robot," "Ebow Lullabye," "Sound Check",...you get the idea. This is not the type of album you're gonna invite your friends over to hear and toss on track 5 and say, "Here...listen to this song." It is not a collection of songs, rather a series of moods, and the subtle shifting of those moods carries the listener through to its conclusion. You can also add this to your list of albums to fall asleep to.

The rest of the album retains the same high quality/low maintenance electronic hum with subtle use of Paul Horn's treated guitar and Dave Onnen's rumbling bass, and with three keyboardists doubling on two guitars and no drummer, Face The Robot is highly recommended to folks who prefer the more comatose side of today's music, as well as those of you whose idea of a peak listening experience is to stare at the walls and listen to your speakers hum.

TVBC - Gone (Self-released)
www.tvbc.tv

Crossing the river to the other Twin City of St. Paul, we discover "Ghandi" opening this trio's third release (recorded eight years ago and just seeing the light now) with a syncopated guitar solo that is straight out of one of Ennio Morricone's soundtracks for Sergio Leone's spaghetti westerns. Gradually, the rest of the band (Freddy Votel on drums and bassist Pat Dzieweczynski - I know...I'm Polish and I can't even pronounce it! None to worry - he was replaced by Scott Evans for the band's reunion earlier this year) join our guitar hero Paul Metzger, and this spag western gradually builds to something vaguely resembling a gypsy dance tune, and before long, echoes of Camper Van Beethoven at their most manic are shooting through your brain. At 15 minutes, the song takes about twice as long as necessary to make its point, but the effort is there and the disk is off to a rollicking start.

"Holiday/Monotony" is a little TOO manic for my tastes; however the speed freaks among you may enjoy Metzger's speedball soloing. Much of the rest of Gone features similar angular, syncopated melodies with impressive fast-faster-fastest picking from Metzger. The freewheeling drumming and fine, rolling basslines carry the listener on a journey through loose, improvisational tributes to "Snakefinger" (aka Philip Lithman, who should be no stranger to fans of the above reviewed Residents) and "Mahler," where Metzger's call and response interplay gives the impression that the man is endowed with 10 fingers on his right hand. Finally, the fleet of foot among you will enjoy dancing the jolly jig to "Sepulchre," although I wonder if the track's only lyric, "This is the way" wasn't nicked from Joy Division's "Atrocity Exhibition." It also suffers from not knowing when to say "when," running about three minutes too long, although this would probably be a great set closer, allowing the band the opportunity to destroy their instruments on stage. By the time the song eventually ends, it's certainly clear they've mastered the art of doing it in the studio.

So if you're intrigued by the possibilities of a meeting between King Crimson and Gang of Four on a dissecting table, with Davie Allen chasing Dick Dale around the room, challenging him to a freeform freakout, by all means hop on over to the above website and pick up a copy of Gone before they all are.

Barlow/Petersen/Wivinus - The Transparent World (Hand/Eye)
www.somedarkholler.com

From the opening "Buried Under Crows," a shamanic summoning of the spirits as the world dervishes out of their bowed, slide, 6-, and 12-strings, this guitar summit between Minneapolis superstar axemen, Rich Barlow (The Pins), Erik Wivinus (Gentle Tasaday, Skye Klad, Salamander), and Jesse Petersen (Viaticum) illustrates the diversity of the criminally ignored Twin Cities indie scene. The public's attention seems to have been diverted away from the Land of 10,000 Lakes ever since the artist formerly known as talented disappeared in a purple haze. Let's hope these three releases help thaw the reception generally afforded anything from up here that doesn't have a placemat associated with it.

But, I digress. The ominously suspenseful "An Unmasked Trail" frightens as it entices the listener down dark passageways and, as the title suggests, off the beaten path and sounds like Charalambides having a go at one of Bernard Herrmann's Hitchcock's scores. Barlow's unusual instrumentation of ocarina, slide mandolin(!), and harmonium adds to the overall unsettling effect. The trio bring all their toys to "That Night" and "Creation Myth": e-bow, slide and bowed mandolin, tuning pipes, train and penny whistles, bowed (and backwards) cymbals, rattletraps, freeman monostrings, bagpipes, not to mention the usual assortment of forwards, backwards, and bowed guitars to sustain the vibe of haunted hayrides, Blair witch hunts, and other assorted bumps in the night. The resulting psychedelic stew hangs in the air like the residue from the explosions of a thousand setting suns, giving birth to colors and visions usually reserved for the sensory deprived.

This certainly isn't music to tiptoe through the tulips by - perhaps poncing through the poppies is more like it. This is the soundtrack to delusions, hallucinations, and wayward imaginings combining the claustrophobic mindfuck of The Shining with the hallucinogenic mindgames of The Blair Witch Project. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the closing "Retribution," which brings us back to the Batcave to update the Gothic horror of Specimen's "Dead Man's Auto Chop" (complete with butcher shop fx) and create the ultimate All Hallow's Eve that your neighborhood won't soon forget.

Fans of more modern wyrd-smiths like Tower Recordings, P.G. Six Organs of Admittance, Charalambides, In Gowan Ring, and Stone Breath (whose Timothy Renner released this), should welcome a trip over to The Transparent World with open hearts.

Various Artists - Hand/Eye (Hand/Eye)
[Address as above]

An introduction to the artists commonly linked to the relatively recent, but increasingly popular subgenre of wyrdfolk is long overdue, so it's only fitting that the man who coined the term (the aforementioned Timothy Renner) should be one of the first to put his money where his mouth is (literally--Hand/Eye is his label)) and give us an overview of the many permutations that this style has spread around the world, represented on this two-disk set  by tracks from Scandinavia (Sweden, Norway, Finland), Japan, England, Germany and the good old USA.

California's Amps for Christ kick off volume one (Hand) with "False Night on the Road," which contains some of the common ingredients present in many wyrdfolk songs: a simple melody, presented with  elaborate (frequently homemade) instrumentation, that tells a tale, often from the survivor's perspective, of murder, mayhem, unrequited love, regret, and loneliness - often all in the same song!

In Gowan Ring, one of the more prolific wyrdfolk artists, check in with "On the Butterfly's Wing," which explores another popular subject in wyrdfolk songs: man's interaction with nature and the creatures that populate it. Again, the instrumentation makes subtle, but effective use of acoustic instruments, bells, and windchimes.

Sweden's Peter Scion (nee Sjoblom) offers a bloody tale of murder and hanging, Sarada (one of Renner's partners in his Snakeoil Jamboree side project) drops by for a lilting, acoustic ballad about the road less traveled ("The Darkest Path"); Alasdair Roberts' "Willie-O" is a ghost tale, exploring the popular wyrdfolk subject of unrequited love traversing space and time with the one left behind encountering the one who has passed on to the other side.

The Iditarod combine acoustic guitar and violin for the gentle ballad, "The Rowan," although at six minutes, it does tend to overstay its welcome. Renner dons the banjo for "The Blood of the Woven-Vine Divinity" from his own Stone Breath project. It sounds like his old mate, Prydwyn has joined in the festivities of a somewhat obtuse tale that seems to encompass the blood of Christ, sacred trees, and divine trinities. This track also illustrates another common thread weaving through many wyrdfolk tales: lyrics often borrowed from ancient texts - old murder ballads or folk tales--or current stories (that give the appearance that they've been co-opted from ancient stories) set in the midst of nature: trees, grass, brooks, squirrels, and chirping birds all populate the track. 

Norwegian artist Filip (Ring) Andersen's "The Sun is Behind" and Witch-Hunt's "Two Magicians" brings magick into the equation, while Japanese cult heroes Acid Mothers Temple & the Melting Paraiso UFO give us "Le Satyre," a haunting, droning, swirling miz-maze featuring an eerie vocal from Yoko Ono soundalike,  Cotton Casino. Imagine sticking theremins, oscillators, and synths onto Ono's "Mrs. Lennon" and your halfway home.

Prydwyn's combination of riffs from Dylan's "Buckets of Rain" and Lennon's "John Sinclair" overshadows his "Hermit Song" to the point where I spent the entire song trying to come up with those "influences." Perhaps now that I've done the legwork, the song will be more enjoyable on future listens, but I spent the entire time racking my brains, "where have I heard that riff before?" and failed to appreciate its charms first time through.

Germany's Fit & Limo wrap up disk one with "Oh Sphinx," which assembles sitars, bells, windchimes, wooden blocks, pump organs, and perhaps a dulcimer for a modern rendering of an ancient riddle. Let's just say, never has the desert sounded so rustic.

Disk Two (Eye) begins, fittingly, with Eyeless in Gaza's Martyn Bates regaling us with the  fairytale of "Seven Yellow Gypsies," perhaps the most daring track in the set, for it's not everyday you hear a 7-minute a capella song. However, Bates is on familiar territory here, having recorded several volumes of "murder ballads" and, although I lost the plot somewhere along the way, the track is unique enough that I'll probably be returning to see how it all turns out.

Finland's Kemialliset Ystavat is a taste I haven't acquired yet. Their omni-directional, improvisational acoustic jamming on "Leikattu Nurmikko" produces a sound that my head had as much difficulty understanding as my tongue did pronouncing, and I'll resist the obvious temptation to slip into German to describe Drekka, and instead describe "In Tension" as a punny title that got a chuckle out of me, but the song is little more than a home recording of the participants stumbling around in the dark.

There's wyrd...and then there's "weird," and Fursaxa's "Porpoise Wings" is an unsettling example of the latter, although if porpoises could fly, who's to say it wouldn't sound like this combination of backwards electronics and chanted vocals delivered in a voice that sounds like Klaus Nomi on helium. Hiding behind the pseudonym Timothy the Revelator, Renner delivers the punny "Always All One, All Ways Alone." His phased, distorted vocal repeats the title over heavily treated guitar and electronics until it becomes a tongue-twisted mantra.

We've discussed the work of Erik Wivinus above, and two of his other projects are represented here: Skye Klad and Salamander. Even though I would have sooner placed his other project, Gentle Tasaday into the wyrdfolk camp, Skye Klad has been known to rip off a raga or two in their day, and the haunting "Widdershins" brings tablas, acoustic guitars, tape loops, and moaning monks together for a spacey, supernatural soufflé of sounds. It took a few bars (musically and alcoholically) to recognize the rolling thunder of Salamander's "Ghost Riders in The Sky." [Yuppers, THAT one!] I would have preferred a little more oomph in the vocals, which take back seat to the instrumentation, but otherwise, the familiar tale of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding off into the sunset works surprisingly well in the context of the wyrdfolk oeuvre. And if Vaughan Monroe is turning over in his grave...well, all the better!

The mountains and backwoods of Virgina are home to Pelt, whose plucking and picking  bring what sound like mandolins, banjos and the occasional guitar to the party. The instrumental "Actias Luna Chase, or Moth Navigations" is perfect for sitting in your backyard, staring wide-eyed at their free-form flight around the nearest streetlamp (the moths, that is, not Pelt, although...?) I mean, really, can you imagine ever getting anywhere if you had a moth at the navigational controls?!

Diana Obscura brings back fond memories of Lisa Gerrard and Dead Can Dance - always a good thing - and she is followed by another group not known for their wyrdfolk leanings, the psychedelic, instrumental combo SubArachnoid Space, who are represented here by their guitarist Mason Jones.  "Can't You See" features what I think is the first appearance of vocals on any of his creations in addition to the seemingly compulsory accoutrements of bells and wind chimes. Mason's fluid guitar lines carry the song forward, yet he retains some traditional SAS trappings with brief squeals of guitar distortion placed strategically throughout.

As with any comp, there'll be some tracks you'll skip over, but if you've read about this new folk movement in my or anyone else's reviews, or came across the term wyrdfolk in any of your readings, this is the best place to discover the myriad styles that are emerging the world over. And if this strikes your fancy as much as I think it will, you'll definitely want to check out Mark Coyle's wonderful new site, The Unbroken Circle, which is devoted entirely to the history, interpretation, analysis, and discussion of wyrdfolk in all its permutations.

Dunlavy - The Navigator Closes His Eyes (Camera Obscura)
www.cameraobscura.com.au

Scott Grimm, aka The Dun Lavy (sic) opens his seventh album with a swampedelic eruption from some murky quicksand pit deep in the bowels of Texas. "Unknown" is nothing less than "the Guitarist from the Black Lagoon," followed by "Lance's Story," Grimm's Fairy-Tale-on-acid (literally) as retold by Scott's wife, Sassy (who tells us this is hubby's favorite story) and accompanied by suitably fried guitar. If you've ever had the munchies while trippin', you'll be able to relate. 

"The Crushing Weight" opens with an annoying dose of Sabbath-itis called "Iron Man," but then quickly (and wisely) changes direction, leaving John Crevasse's guttural emanations in its wake for an extended exercise in string bending that is equal parts Black Sun Ensemble (nice violin touch), Salamander, and Hawkwind Lite. "Elegy" (actually an unnamed "hidden track" at mile marker 4 - [a Camera Obscura first?]) seamlessly blends loopy, sci-fi electronics with field recordings of the creatures of the night in Grimm's backyard, although driving home at dusk through my own back country roads, it was hard to distinguish the sound of the crickets outside the car from the ones coming out of the dashboard inside it.

Imagine grabbing the vocals of R.E.M. and Florida cult rockers, For Squirrels (particularly on the latter's paean to Kurt Cobain, "Mighty K.C."), the guitar lines of Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here, the harmonies of CSNY, and some prog-y organ runs courtesy Strawbs, tossing them all in the same pot, and topping it off with spoken word narration (from whence we get the album's title), and you'll begin to get the majesty of the  heavily syncopated, complex chord changes which permeate the ten-minute "Little One."

Of course, everything we've heard up to this point was only setting the stage for the final track, "Mohawk Valley." Mumbled, spoken vocals and backwards, slide, and forceful bursts of staccato guitars drown us in a tsunami of sensory overload, until we gently touch down in the "unknown" environs where we came in. Consider your voyage complete - the navigator inside your head can open his eyes…the Grimm Reaper has loosened his grip on your psyche. Take a moment to reacquaint yourself with your surroundings. Everything's going to be O.K. Just keep repeating to yourself, "It's only an album.... It's only another Dunlavy album.... It's only another Camera Obscura release.... I'm gonna be O.K...."

Landing - "2002 Tour" EP (Vast Arc Hues)
www.landingsite.net

Landing - "Fade In Fade Out" EP (Strange Attractors Audio House)
www.strange-attractors.com

Yellow6/Rothko/Landing - New Found Land (Music Fellowship)
www.musicfellowship.com

These lengthy releases are but three more reasons why Connecticut's prolific Landing (their catalogue has swelled to about 10 releases of varying lengths in the last 3-4 years) have quietly (literally and popularly) established themselves as one of the premiere sonic explorers of atmospheric pop. The 10-song, full-length (39 minute) tour EP's opening track, "Not See Through" is as gentle as raindrops falling on a pond, and leads directly into the beautiful interplay between guitarists Dick Baldwin and Aaron Snow on "It Looked Like Fire." Throughout the all-new material, the band continues its gorgeously glistening guitar sound (a change of direction away from their ambient, atmospheric early releases to a more accessible, acoustic pop aesthetic which commenced with last year's Seasons full length) with Adrienne's soft synth slithering around hubby Aaron's evocative crystalline guitar picking. It's a cross-generational collection of folky pop tunes that combines the softer sides of Nick Drake and Jim Croce with more modern exponents like Idaho's Jeff Martin and Red House Painters' Mark Kozelek. 

"Fluttering Wings" should be a bona fide hit single, with its lovely melody and mellow, laid-back groove. It's a shame it's only two minutes long, although it should be pointed out that most of the tracks gently sidle into the room, make their musical point, and softly fade out, with only the 10- minute centerpiece "Meisha," a lovely instrumental drone, approaching the epic improvisational soundscapes of last year's awesome Oceanless. Still, every track's a winner, from the short, cascading synth-based instrumental, "Motionless" to Adrienne's buzzkilling Claire Grogan-meets-Sarah Cracknell little girl vocals on "Tempestuous Sea" to the Spacemen 3 filtered through the Silver Apples' oscillations of "When the Sun Lights the Sky." The limited edition (500 copies) disk is available at the band's current east coast gigs, which found them heading up to Boston for Terrastock V in mid-October. Check the web site for full details and drop them a line if they're not coming to your neighborhood. Tour tie-ins can be a dicey proposition, with artists often selling hastily assembled, previously discarded tracks to help pay for gas/food/lodging, but this effort ranks among Landing's (and 2002s) best.

No sooner have I come to grips with their more tangible new direction than the quartet (rounded out by the multi-instrumentalist Daron Gardner on guitar, bass AND drums!) return to the approach which got me hooked in the first place, as "Fade In Fade Out" does exactly that, bookending five lengthy, cinematically expansive, meticulously executed mood pieces like a portal to another dimension of sound opening and closing behind you. I'd like to call particular attention to the closer, "Pulse," which has to win some kind of award for the most restrained use of feedback on a guitar-based drone recording. Several times I expected the band to kick out the jams on the rising crescendo only to have them pull the chair out from under me and float back down to earth.

Fans of former ambient superstars, Azusa Plane, Bedhead, and Twenty Six will be very pleased to hear Landing's return to their somnambulant roots, excavating the spirit of these late, lamented drone artists while continuing to imprint their own unique textures on the psyches of psychheads everywhere.

Gardner released the three-way split on his own Music Fellowship label, soliciting sidelong efforts from Leicestershire's Jon Attwood (aka Yellow6), and the former bass trio, Rothko, who've been reduced to original member Mark Beazley assisted by the British pop band, Delicate Awol - wonderful folks who I recently had the pleasure of interviewing for the British music journal, Ptolemaic Terrascope. Note that this track, however, is a Beazley solo outing.

The Yellow6 tracks, particularly "Quinta Essentia" and "Silhouette" feature a hint of the cinematic touches that Angelo Badalamenti brought to his Twin Peaks soundtracks, and also recall the quiet sound collages of Treasure and Victorialand-era Cocteau Twins. I kept expecting Twins vocalist Liz Fraser to step up to the mic and serenade us with another lesson in her native Coct-ese.

Rothko's 7-part "Halftones and Metatones" didn't strike any tones with me. I found it to be a rather aimless collection of electronics and treated guitars which made me think of the sound that electricity might make as it coursed through the wiring in your house, particularly Part 5 (i.e., track 10 on the CD). Parts 4 and 6 are the most interesting, with their Tortoise-plays-Morricone guitar stylings, but they're not enough to recommend repeated listens.

The Landing tracks, however, rank with some of their best, as this collective seems to improve with every release. "Introduction To Clouds" is the aural equivalent of a Fluffernutter sandwich, with a light and fluffy, floating melody that sticks to the roof of your cranium. Floating is also the theme of "With You" with its recurring lyric, "I float away;" "Disappear" is a lovely pop duet featuring the Snows exchanging pleasantries over a magical swirling ship of synths and guitars and, along with "Through the Twilight," with its crystalline guitar and backing vox, is just about the best thing fellow Morman's Low haven't gotten around to recording yet! In fact, I once unfairly compared Landing's earlier releases with the work of their mentors, Windy & Carl, so I'm gonna continue to be unfair and suggest these latest efforts may cause the work of Low to spring to mind. This is mentioned as a point of reference and not as a criticism.

So, as Meatloaf suggested, two out of three ain't bad, so I'm gonna recommend New Found Land to aficionados of any of the artists mentioned herein.

Orange Cake Mix - Revolving Paint Dreams Spinning Round Again (Little Mercy)
http://phisting.phrenzy.org/lar

I'll make this quick, as this extremely limited (150 copies) disk may be gone before you have a chance to read this and pick it up. The mindboggingly prolific Jim Rao returns with what seems like his hundreth release,  but it's his strongest in years. "Freakout 69" is a swirling, psychedelic mass of phasing guitars, "Fade Out Forever" sounds like a Simon  & Garfunkle outtake, with more than a passing resemblance to the gentler acoustic work of The Bevis Frond, and "Scattered Visions (of Space)" is another in a long line of lovely, Casio-driven instrumentals. When I interviewed Jim for the online e-zine Perfect Sound Forever a few months back, he told me he was working on a long-distance collaboration with Witch Hazel Sound's Kevin Coral, and "What Goes Around" sounds like an early teaser for that potential marriage made in musical heaven. Again, swirling, phased guitars and electronics remind me of Phil Spector tearing down his wall of sound.

"An Ocean Away" is a lovely instrumental with artificially created sound effects that closely approximates the sound of Vini Reilly (a major Rao influence) standing in a rowboat, strumming his guitar in the middle of the ocean. Alternately, those of you familiar with guitarist Mick Wills' similar use of the English Channel on "The Storm" from his Fern Hill collection will know what to expect. Rao doubletracks his vocals on "Learning How To Run Away Takes Time," a beautifully reflective song that will stick in your craw long after it ends. "Spaced Out Films," another instrumental, proves once again that you can take Rao away from his Casio, but you can't take the Casio away from Rao as he layers one electronic bleep and blurp on top of another to dizzying effect. "Saturn Is A Lonely Planet" digs Georgio Moroder out of his musical grave and props him up behind the keyboards for a 21st century version of "Midnight Express," and Rao's got David Roback's fx-laden guitar histrionics down to a science on the satirical "Mazzy Star and You Had A Dream Together."

Half the fun of an OCM party is to spot the namedropping references to Rao's many influences, so I wonder if "Fried" could be a nod in the direction of lovable nutter Julian Cope, as it has more than its title in common with that madman across the water. For someone as prolific as Rao, he retains the uncanny ability to effortlessly come up with a strong collection of catchy songs and memorable melodies that, while mining the same general field, amazingly seem fresh with every release. This is no exception and comes highly recommended. So act fast before they all disappear.

Dipsomaniacs - The Tremolo of Her Mind - The Strings of Her Soul (Free City Media)
www.freecitymedia.com

Nick Benson's San Francisco-based Free City Media label was responsible for the marvelous  International League of Telepathic Explorers psychedelic compilation that we raved about last month and you all obediently went out and bought [right?!], so it's a treat to see him back in the saddle so quickly with another fine release, this by Norway's finest purveyors of psychedelic pop, or, as I once disingenuously referred to them as, "Norway's answer to The Green Pajamas." I guess I just don't know how to give a compliment. Perhaps this little write-up will suffice.

"Before You Paint Your Murals" is a tasty Deadhead treat that's better than anything they did in the last decade or so before Jerry joined the choir invisible. "Dipso Raga #1" invites comparisons with Black Sun Ensemble's stoned desert magic - imagine Alejandro Jodorowsky filming El Topo in the middle of the Arizona desert and inviting Jesus Acedo to compose the soundtrack. After experiencing 8 minutes of the repetitive, mantra riff bubbling under Gøran Olsen's unexpectedly surreal trombone embellishments a la Terrastock festival faves V. Majestic, I was starting to hallucinate apparitions floating around the room with me and began freaking out, man. For who besides Jodorowsky would ever imagine a marching band emerging from the middle of the desert (I mean, besides Fleetwood Mac!) A word of advice: don't listen to this close-eyed or in the dark if you want to avoid nightmarish flashbacks, although after about 10 minutes of their collective brains baking in the desert sun (or under studio sunlamps), things get a little dicey, and veer into dangerous Coltrane territory, where improvisational freeform freakouts take over and I lost interest.

One of the inherent challenges in releasing a collection of extended improvisational studio jams is knowing when to say "when." As a reviewer who occasionally stumbles through such excursions (the Woronzow label's Acid Jam compilations, Magic Muscle's Gulp, Abunai's Round Wound, the Doctor Frond collaboration between Dr. Brown and Nick (Bevis Frond) Saloman), I've established what I call the "When Threshold." I use this to measure the success of such outings based upon the artists' ability to hold my interest. Occasionally this becomes a game of musical chicken between myself and the band over our respective definitions of "when." Unfortunately, the band almost always wins, and I've moved on to the next track before they're ready to call it a wrap.

Of course this is nothing new. As a matter of fact, an entire genre of music sometimes referred to as "progressive" built its entire foundation on self-indulgence, and there were frequent side long excursions on many an adventurous '60s album. All of this is a long, circuitous shaggy dog story leading up to the punchline that is "In Syd's Garden," for although it was surprisingly (some might say mercifully) edited down to its present 20 minute length, it scores amazingly high on my "say when" odometer. Robert Skjærvik's driving bass propels the track across the sturdy bedrock of Thomas Henriksen's rolling organ, around which Øyvind Holm weaves an intricate web of guitar lines like some drunken fly intoxicated on the blood of an acid-drenched spider. To put it in much simpler terms, "In Syd's Garden" is a 21st century "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida." I wonder if Holm ever considered calling it "In-A-Gadda-D'Syd," i.e., "In-A-Gadda-D'Acid?"

The Soft Boys - Nextdoorland (Matador)

The limp ones' final lineup is back with what should be a cause celebre: their first album in 20 years. So what do they do? Simply demonstrate what devil-may-care ornery bastards they are by starting off with an instrumental...with a guitar riff, no less, that I'm sure Robyn Hitchcock ripped off from...well, exactly where I haven't figured out yet, but you'll recognize it, too. They bail themselves out of trouble with the first song proper, "Pulse of My Heart," a charming piece of McCartney-esque whimsy with exquisite harmonies. Since Hitchcock's subsequent band, The Egyptians, was essentially this same lineup-minus Kimberly Rew, the fact that I enjoyed this so much more than his recent output can only be attributable to Rew, (whose own post-Soft Boys project, Katrina & The Waves were responsible for two of the 80s finest pop tunes "Going Down To Liverpool" and "Walking on Sunshine" - both Rew compositions) and it is in fact the instrumentation and tight performances, particularly the staggering guitar interplay on "Mr. Kennedy" and the funky psych-blues of the Julian Cope-ish, "Strings" that rescue this from being just another quirky Hitchcock solo album.

I can only surmise Rew's half of the guitarists' conversation, "Sure, Robyn, I'll record a reunion album. But I'm not playing any of that surreal rubbish you been writing for the last 20 years." With Rew sitting on Hitchcock, at least he's writing about topics relevant to THIS planet, such as urban sprawl ("Sudden Towns") and love, both good ("Japanese Captain"), bad ("Unprotected Love") and unrequited ("La Cherite"), the latter of which also containing a rather laid back, relaxed, mellow vibe that encourages herbal enrichment while enjoying this comeback. 

So while there's no "Angelpoise Lamp" or " I Wanna Destroy You," Nextdoorland is less quirky and more melodic than Hitch's recent offerings (although Jewels for Sophia demonstrated a refreshing return to straightforward rock and roll) and while I may have brought unreasonably high expectations to this project based on previous track records, there are more hits than misses, and as reunions go, it's more successful than the average summer tour cash-in fiascos of recent years.

Oasis - Heathen Chemistry (Big Brother)

Speaking of high expectations, the self-proclaimed "world's greatest band"'s sixth album is fraught with major questions, such as 1) is there life after Guigsy and Bonehead, and 2) can the guitarist for one of the 90s most cherished bands give a backseat to his ego and pick up and start playing bass? Let's deal with the easier question first: there's no way "big bruddah" was gonna let Andy Bell anywhere near a studio unless he agreed to check his wall of feedback guitar sound at the door. So in true "This town/band ain't big enough for both of us" fashion, Bell backed down and does an adequate job filling the hole in the rhythm section left with Guigsy's departure. Although, truth be told, Gallagher doesn't give him anything too tough to play and, besides, the bass is probably the least important instrument in the band's sound anyway.

So, no harm...no foul; preliminary score Oasis: 1, disaster: nil. As to the post-Guigsy/Bonehead slump: first of all, Gallagher offers the new kids on the block an enticing "signing bonus" by letting them each pen a tune. As a result, there're fewer opportunities to fan the "Noel's burnt out" bonfire. Of course, coming up with "The Hindu Times" right out of the gate doesn't hurt matters. This leadoff single overwhelms you with its anthemic power, announcing in no uncertain terms that the boil on the bum that was Standing on the Shoulders of Giants was a momentary lapse of reason.

New guitarist Gem Archer's only previous moment in the spotlight was on some forgettable Jam tribute album (whose title I've forgotten) as the leader of Heavy Stereo, but based on his "Hung In A Bad Place" contribution here, I don't think too many people are gonna be asking him "where's Bonehead?" It's sounds like pretty much everything else on the band's debut, Definitely Maybe, which in his case, is probably a good thing. If you have any doubts, let me remind you that New Order's debut was nothing more than Joy Division Lite and look where they ended up. 

"Our Kid"'s incessant whining on the second single, "Stop Crying You Heart Out" bears the indelible sway of past glories such as "Wonderwall" and "Don't Go Away" and proves his big bruddah hasn't lost his touch when it comes to whipping off a sensitive, heartfelt ballad.

Every Oasis album can be counted on for at least one killer, goose pimple-inducing single that bashes its way into your brain and refuses to leave, and Heathen Chemistry's contribution is "Little by Little," which the punters have accepted as manna from Gallagher by placing it at the top of the UK singles chart as I type. It's also the first track that allots the band some Jam time (pun intended), and it seems that Messrs. Archer and Bell are gonna fit in just fine as their interplay here (and throughout) is as tight as a monkey's bum.

Bell is only given a minute and a half for his instrumental contribution, "A Quick Peep," but it bodes well for exciting things to follow - catchy, jazzy, psychedelic - sort of like Ride without the pretensions. In addition to the classic single, an Oasis record can also be counted on for a sleeper of an album track that fans latch on to and shove into the limelight (think of "Champagne Supernova" as a recent example) and "It's All In The Mind," with its unforgettable melody, wall-of-sound production, and blistering solos is my choice here for pending superstardom.

The album ends with a couple of Our Kid's compositions, the first, "Born on a Different Cloud" is, surprisingly, the most Beatles-esque song here - reminiscent of something that might have been on an early Lennon solo album; and the second, "Better Man" has an expansive, glammy, T Rex vibe to it.

So, overall, Noel delivers on his promise to return to former glories, and while it's certainly no Definitely Maybe or What's the Story (little I've heard in the last decade is), it does wash the bitter taste of recent failures down the drain.

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