Singled Out - the continuing journey into hi-fidelity
Presents for Sally ‘catch your fall’ (laser ghost). We’re already in something of a sulk having just discovered that we missed this lots first recorded fruits via a shoe gaze compilation put out by Invada last year entitled ‘secret garden’. now making their official debut outing and providing without a shadow of a doubt the coolest thing on our hi-fi at the moment and the cause of our radar going all a wobble and woozy three piece Presents for Sally are shortly to dock into a record counter near you with this absolute to die for twin set. ’catch your fall’ starts off in quite a brooding manner emerging from a would be smoky Black Angels haze like some star crossed tryst between Bang Bang Machine and My Jealous God to blissfully unfurl into a dream weaving spectacle that lilts, lulls and shimmers rather than exploding in a stratospheric blaze, all the time gathering in stature and mass softly bathing the listening space in a head swirling feel good radiance metered upon spiralling laid back and chemically wasted star hugging feedback showers - Ride references are apt as are those pertaining to Ultra Vivid Scene, file under pure class. Flip over ’smooch’ which by our ears reckoning weaves into the same layer upon layer building territories previously marked and navigated by the likes of Working for a Nuclear Free City and Swimmer One, blessed with an almost hymnal like hollow it soon picks up the pace and transforms to adopt something of a celestial jubilant glaze whose underpinning is framed by the subtle though apparent washes of Chapterhouse’s ‘pearl’ albeit with MBV trimmings. A near perfect debut. www.myspace.com/presentsforsally
Update - go to the bands my space page - www.nyspace.com/presentsforsally - where you’ll be treated to ’flowers falling sideways’ - a divinely frost tipped orbiting beauty lushly harnessed in the kind of spectral majesty once the given domain of all records bearing the name Slowdive upon their hide - this beguiled and bruised babe is shrouded in a hopelessly forlorn sweetly bitter afterglow much recalling ‘geek love’ by Bang Bang Machine - all lilting and hushed vocals, cavernously inclines and dream weaving ether prized ripples - gorgeously crushed and may just leave you somewhat hollowed, humbled and a tad tearful.
Tommi Bass and BBSC ‘Textures from Berlin’ (rednetic). Another of those essential packages from those electro gurus over at Rednetic recordings. ‘textures from Berlin’ marks the sixth instalment in Rednetic’s uber limited 3 inch CD series - a series which so far has seen outings from the likes of Cyan 341, Wesen and Komponente. Again limited in number this three track release sees Tommi Bass collaborating with Berlin’s BBSC to provide what the label happily describe as ’something more cerebral’ in texture and design. Blimey they weren’t kidding for ’textures of Berlin’ could well prove to be the series’ best moment to date, blending deep trance calibrations with intricately layered mind weaving sound-scapes cross wired by minimalist Detroit house dialects, microcosmic grooves and an eerily impish playfulness that’s both kooky and creepy, ‘textures from Berlin‘ is as the label promises - cerebral boogie - its not your happy go lucky radiant jubilance here rather more its an ominous murder in the dark soundtrack - the chilling ‘bronze 2’ especially proving to be an aural adventure best explored in daylight with the lights on its deeply grooved chassis pitted with an ice cold alienated desolation and isolationist clicks is oppressively dark and distant. Mind you that said the wide screen aspects applied to ‘bronze 3’ lighten the mood somewhat though is still something of a lurking leviathan intent on wiping your brain matter clean. Still there’s always ’bronze 1’ a terra forming titan of sorts fusing hypnotic beats, shifting rhythms and brooding cavernous inclines. Release number 7 in the ongoing series should see the emergence of a three track outing for Gradient entitled ‘dispersing sectors’. www.rednetic.net
The Polyamorous Affair ‘Bolshevik disco’ (manimal). Must admit that in recent weeks we’ve been continually drawn back to this the- were assuming - debut set from the latest Manimal imprint offering - the Polyamorous Affair. But hey there’s a pre-history here that you ought to be well guarded about. Eddie - one half of the duo the Polyamorous Affair used to be part of another duo by the name of Charles and Eddie who in the early 90’s contented themselves with some of the most trite pop ever to have sullied radio waves - it was a short lived career culminating in the odious ‘would I lie to you’. these days residing under the Polyamorous Affair banner - a duo pairing him with his missus Sissy Sainte Marie - they arm themselves with all manner of synths and late 70’s / early 80’s easy pop discothèque manoeuvres and craft out seductive lines of coolly sophisticated 80’s candy skinned electro pop with an apparent Soviet twist (the album title is a bit of a clue don‘t you think). Pressed up on a rather fetching and dare we say limited edition pink / violet swirled clear wax, for the best part of ‘Bolshevik disco’ it works a treat, ’face control’ in particular tail gaits a cosmopolitan cool once ventured by Visage and latterly more associated by the late Salon Boris while the seductively amorous ’white hot magic’ perhaps the sets defining moment takes a leaf or two from Cerrone’s ’supernature’ and braids it with a sweetly alluring by a framing of pulse racing purring sexuality that’s laced with sugar toned stellar caresses and vocoder vocals all steeped and fixed upon a gorgeously woven sultry and retro glazed late 70’s Studio 54 platform (a similar technique is applied to the frisky ‘eastern‘). There’s even an air chilled cosmically cruised cover of Lou Reed’s ‘satellite of love’ while elsewhere ‘fashion’ may well vaguely evoke in some memories of M’s ‘pop musik’ and Lipps Inc’s ‘Funky Town’ as though playfully re-sprayed and re-moulded by a kookily funky and wonky Prince. Over on side 2 there’s the glacially pristine candy pop tones of ’new york city’ proving to be one of the albums highlights and into the bargain courting a curiously amorphous fusing of Slipstream dialects honeycombed in demurring star crossed Dollar-esque drills mind you we‘re still not completely convinced by the wannabe cosmic Serge and Brigitte lilts of ‘you are‘ but hey its certainly been cute enough to have our stylus on repeat play duties. File under guilty pleasures. www.manimalvinyl.com
Old Lights ‘every night begins the same’ (st. ives). Another gem from the St Ives workshop quickly following hot on the heels of that criminally essential Horns of Happiness album. Again as with previous releases on the label this comes housed in a handmade sleeve and is strictly limited to just 200 copies though our copy appears to be a hand numbered 100 only limited issue - as it happens ours is #100 of 100. Old Lights is the solo adventure of David Vandervelde drummer David Beeman - well we say solo adventure for it appears on the credits that he’s been helped in his task by Gabriel Doiron. A gorgeous thing it is to comprised of twelve tracks, ’every night begins the same’ sumptuously blends west coast drifts with smoked mid west countrified accents, its nearest reference marker being Moviola’s ’durable dream’. Here you’ll find elements of Buffalo Springfield sweetly glazed alongside the subtle washes of the Beach Boys (’if you come over tonight‘), Gram Parsons swapping notes with the Velvet Crush and Teenage Fanclub snuggling up to the Mayflies (especially on the lovelorn buzz pop of ’the rail’). As equally at home sleepily touching and intimate as it is radiantly effervescent - the former exemplified by the majestic and momentous trippy like Lennon-esque meets Epicycle opining MOR laced bliss driven widescreen effected ‘ticket for an airplane’ the latter accounted for by the sun kissed 60’s bitter sweet shimmer pop dialects of ’how can I get by’ best described as Kevin Tihista re-wiring old school Mamas and the Papas gems from yesteryear. Elsewhere there’s the honey tipped and playfully wacky ‘motel bars’ kookily freewheeling amid the dippy pop infatuated portfolio of McCartney albeit as though shimmying alongside a certain Ray Davies and criss-crosses amid a feast of wonky music hall and street cool swagger along the way craftily embraces key note nods to the Beach Boys while applying some slyly recoded Led Zep codas and lest we forget to mention ‘equal parts’ as it shimmers in a delicately homely spun electro absorbed nocturnal hue that without warning fractures to blossom into something dinked with an early 70’s feel and very much nodding in the general direction of Ian Hunter and Todd Rundgren. How can you resist.
The Council Flats of Kingsbury ‘s/t’ (uncharted audio). You might be forgiven for thinking you’ve suddenly awoken to find yourself in some strangely affectionate easy pop heaven with a certain Jonny Trunk in charge of your sound system that is after having raided the local thrift shops and redecorated your gaff in colours and designs so garishly kitsch that you feel obliged to wear a tank top and a pair of x ray specs you purchased from an old ad in a marvel comic. This release comes pressed up - apparently - on super duper limited quantities of 12 inch wax, a copy of which we’ll have to nab as our own as this one is a special download promo type thing - pah. Described as a wee change in direction for the Uncharted Audio brethren the council flats of kingsbury is the audiac alter ego of one Colin Kavanagh who in the privacy of his garden shed has been cobbling upon his melodic workbench a positive pic ’n’ mix of lost musical memories seemingly informed by trippy cult / risqué films of the late 60’s / early 70’s, wonky psychedelic and square eyed forming children’s TV themes. Sumptuously crafted and designed through a retro viewfinder there are times when this fourteen track set veers into territories best described as Sesame Street meets Vision On gone bossa nova (the quirky ‘fun in the sun’ and the skewiff off centred frazzled strut of the dreamy ‘strange party’), acutely impish - by and large invading sonic signatures that purists would refer to as library sounds while simultaneously veering into realms more commonly associated with the Ghost Box crew - Belbury Poly, the Advisory Circle et al. that said it’s not all crookedly kooky and woozy Komeda-esque stylisings whereat various points there’s a mallowy resonance much recalling the airy charm pop of Free Design none more so is this the case than on both ‘the theme to ‘nothing really matters’ and ‘black leather glove’ while the loosely related and frankly quite fetching ‘frolicking in the suburbs’ really does have a sense of the criminally ignored Le Mans shimmying up to Radio 2’s legendary ‘sing something simple’ troupe. Elsewhere there’s some breezily beguiling rustic wooziness despatched with effortless ease on ‘Michelle’s Teeth’ while the sleepy headed tranquillity of the wood crafted and aptly titled ‘dream within a dream’ and the sea fairing genteelness of ‘go travelling’ touch base with Bibio and into the bargain cast a spell crafting moment of surrendering lazy eyed pastoral prettiness. A quick fumble through the tracks reveals ‘happy but dark’ as sounding not unlike some ghostly shanty reprise concocted and then left on the shelf unloved by the Black Heart Procession and latterly discovered and dusted down by L’Augmentation. While those of you absorbed and enchanted by all things snow globed and ice sculptured are advised to fast track to the elegiac and opining ‘hobo stares at the sky awhile’. An utterly rewarding gem here’s hoping we don’t have to wait seven years for its follow up. www.unchartedaudio.com
The Golden Filter ‘thunderbirds’ (dummy). Super sexy slinky swirly vital sign seducing electro disco groove. Does it for us. Still not convinced eh - okay then how about this - the latest uber crucial floor flattening vibe from New York duo Penelope and Stephen - better known to the more feverishly in tuned record buying cognoscenti as the Golden Filter who not content with walloping turntables with ‘Solid Gold’ earlier this year are currently in between putting the finishing gloss on their debut full length which is slated for release early next year are at present in the middle of a quick stop tour that’ll see them returning to these shores next month. To coincide with that return there’s the small matter of a new single to consider. ‘thunderbirds’ pushes all the buttons instantaneously, a club floor consuming beast that draws sublimely from an abundantly rich and fertile electro / disco lineage that hot wires the svelte sensuality of Moroder’s ‘I feel love’ and equips it with the pulsating body checking throb of a ‘blue Monday’ era New Order recalibration, add to that the seductive purring opine of Goldfrapp lost in the moment and an unworldly star crossed ethereal aura and dammit young things this will do untold damage on dance floors near you. Get the bundle from Beatport and you’ll find the same track re-drilled in its ‘dub’ persona which in essence just means more of the same only more cosmic and horny sounding. Flip side will feature the duo’s interpretation of White Stripes ‘hardest button to button’ sadly amiss on this promo download though featured below via a video of the duo caught performing it recently in Austin. We’re so good to you. www.dummymag.com
Swing Youth ‘myself to blame’ (self released). Apologies to all responsible on this for it seems we may have inadvertently overlooked it until now, its appearance on our hi-fi warranted by the fact that it was discovered under one of several huge piles of CD’s in one of those pointless exercises undertaken occasionally by yours truly to weed out records that have impishly gone amiss - for those taking notes that’ll be outings by Black Heart Procession and Wye Oak - which to much sulking and grimacing still remain lost. Anyway enough of our filing miss-haps Swing Youth named after a second world war German counter culture movement are a quartet hailing from London who in between wowing most who’ve seen them live run a musical venue in Twickenham. This release their debut as it happens will be handing over half of its sales revenue to the Royal British Legion in memory of a schoolmate - Tom Sawyer - who lost his life serving in Afghanistan. As to the single itself - a twin tracked slab of turntable tastiness unless our ears do deceive, ‘myself to blame’ is buzz scored with the kind of speaker punching power pop effervescence that was once the given domain of the likes of the Cars, the Distractions, Motors, Split Enz and the Vapors, criminally catchy, insidiously infectious, audaciously acute and blessed with a nerve jangling hook hogging chorus line replete with a shimmying harmonic laced thrust the likes of which we haven’t heard around these parts since Captain Phoenix were left unguarded to set the hi-fi all a frenzy. Flip the disc for the pulse racing ‘blade of grass’ - more late 70’s new wave sourced uber groove which again if our do deceive flies directly into the lovelorn day-glo heart of prime time era Buzzcocks albeit having wired into its matrix streams of flat lining electro shocks and sounding as though they’ve been discovered shimmying up to the much missed Hoverchairs to eke out bitter sweetly turned tear stained indie buzz gems. More please. www.myspace.com/swingyouth
Oh and here’s a little video of them…..
Os the Darma Lovers ‘laranjas do ceu’ (nacopajazz). Admittedly this has been finding itself straying on the odd occasion upon our kitchen player where its proved to be something of a mood lifter whenever we’ve felt a little out of sorts. Recently picked up on one of our monthly forays via Cargo records, truth is we were taken by the brightly coloured hippy dippy age of Aquarius styled sleeve and the promise of Os Mutantes styled wooziness. Alas a quick check on the sleeve’s reverse revealed that it originally saw the light of day way back in that not so golden year 2007. Undeterred - hey what’s two years amongst friends we thought - anyhow enough of that Os the Darma Lovers hail from Brazil - formed way back in 1999 inspired by core duo Irinia and Nenung’s Tibetan teachings and a desire to spread a little light, harmony and peace upon anyone who wished to listen. They’ve released four albums to date and gathered themselves a band swelling their collective ranks to seven. Undoubtedly inspired sound wise by the Beatles albeit as though relocated and translated via their informed Tibetan learning, Os the Darma Lovers describe their sound as a psychotropic mix blended from equal parts poetry, folk and Mexican music. Starting with the calming trance chime of a spiritual bell, across 53 minutes ‘laranjas do ceu’ casts a unerring sereneness upon the listener, these sun glazed slices of trippy west coast apparitions are possessed of a lightly toned pop fixated sparseness more acute with the breezy back catalogue of Free Design (none more so is this the case than on the title track - ‘laranjas do ceu‘ or more precisely the gorgeously lush and dreamy instrumental recalibration of the same cut which you‘ll find later through the grooves), the melodies shimmy seductively around the air space casting a woozy lull ’corpo’ is especially drilled with a blurring kaleidoscopic hue underpinned by the tender arcing of opining slides riffage and the subtle dusting of seductive sun radiant motifs. That said its an album that grows with confidence the further in it gets ’keep going’ is graced with a driving and chugging psych blues grind that sees it primed and perched upon a distant family branch loosely related to Zep’s ‘Kashmir’ whilst all the time blistered by the bleached and intoxicating arabesque mantras while elsewhere ’onda’ is laced and trip wired with a seriously stoned reverb groove. ’o cara da flor’ is sweetly glazed with a fragile like vague nothingness that much recalls Damon and Naomi while the spectral ’medo’ touches the outer orbits of Porcupine Trees more dream woven moments found on ’stupid dream’. Add in the subtle seasoning of Lennon-esque lemon popsicle psychedelia some hollowed and frail n’ intimate lonesome glazes of Wilson-esque introspection coiled within lysergic swirls and trimmings more apparent to an early Levitation cut via ’fantastico’ and some nifty glassy soft psyche jangle effervescence courtesy of ’tres coroas’ and you have yourself a deceptively rewarding full length. www.nacopajaz.fr
