Mustafa
Athganistan mix-CD
Independent Release
originally published November 15, 2006
A mix-CD written on with a Sharpie and accompanied by a folded piece of 8.5 x 11 paper is not a promising thing, despite the clever title. But there is always room in life for pleasant surprises, and Mustafa is a genuinely talented emcee on the Athens scene. Born Willie Wester (or maybe Willie Lynch, depending on whether you believe the lyrics on the record or the information included with it) in North Carolina, moving to Athens in middle school and fresh out of the Clarke County jail, Mustafa has an ear for choosing good beats (and credits the origin of each backing track, unlike most mixes) and a nice, bouncy delivery that slips easily between drawl and patter, in rhythms clearly representative of our regions speech patterns.
Athganistan also manages to keep it under an hour, with subjects, pacing and lyrics varied enough to preclude boredom, even after multiple listens. While the CD includes a fair amount about drugs, guns and bitches, theres also a track (Domestic Violence) that begins with a couple of minutes of conversation about how Mustafa [goes] there with solutions and feels hip hop needs to change or die, then progresses to a story about an unwise marriage. It provokes interesting sympathies without being preachy. Local emcees Tommy Valentine (the Irish Cosa Nostra) and Ishues contribute excellent guest appearances on Da Session, which uses Ashanti to great effect. Even the obligatory dont give a fuck song, here titled Iont Give a Fuc, turns out well, riding a Jamaican vibe that somehow manages not to irritate with its apathy.
Other highlights include My Momma, a paean to strong matriarchs; Momma Cita, which addresses issues of illegal immigration through having the hots for Latin ladies; the last track, Jon Da Baptist," and the opener Welcome, which sets the tone with energy and serves as a kind of rundown of the appeal of the Classic City, albeit in terms too vulgar for the Visitors Center to use for promo purposes. A more official studio album is in the works, and the talent evident on Athganistan bodes well for Mustafa vs. the State, expected early next year.
Athganistan isn't available in stores, but Mustafa's selling them himself; give him a call at 706-300-9469 to track down a copy.
The Blood Brothers
Young Machetes
V2
originally published November 15, 2006
They clumsily tip their hand right off the bat, screaming a cappella "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!" Yes, there is no question: The Blood Brothers have been listening to M.I.A. and, for that matter, Nina Simone. And Ute Lemper. So if you are talking about the Blood Brothers in a fashioncore context, you need to stop, because things like the receipts for their jeans and the way they cut their hair are, in fact, red herrings. The Blood Brothers are interesting because they are one of the biggest punk bands maybe ever to take a real, tangible influence from music made by women. Sure, a few jean-jacket dilettantes with dog-eared copies of Please Kill Me will swear up and down about Patti Smith, but Young Machetes wears its femininity on its sleeve, however stylishly torn. Besides, androgyny has been a hallmark of rock and roll since the Beatles, so if you're still bitching about how these dudes "sing like girls," please stand further away from me, because I do not want to get spinkicked. Thank you.
For the uninitiated: The Blood Brothers are a five-piece from Seattle fronted by singers Johnny Whitney (the incredibly sassy one) and Jordan Blilie (the lower-voiced, oft-typo'd one), and their call-and-response histrionics are typically shrieked at top volume, but the pair are very fond nowadays of busting out some sweet sweet soul. All the while, the remaining trio pulses and spasms with a sound very much borne of the Three One G/ Gravity Records rosters of the mid-to-late '90s, which is to say angular guitars dry humping on top of a furiously busy rhythm section. Time signatures, volumes, tempos and moods are never static here.
A lot of folks, it seems, are waiting for the Blood Brothers to "go away." Unfairly judged by the company they keep - such as skim-milk emo superstar act The Used, etc. - the skinny quintet has managed to outlive its own hype, and has learned to balance the subtle with the salient along the way. Perhaps most interestingly of all, it has managed to unintentionally expose the rampant message-board homophobia and misogyny that bubbles under in hardcore scenes worldwide. Who knew a few dudes who "sing like girls" could cause so much controversy in 2006?
Joanna Newsom
Ys
Drag City
originally published November 15, 2006
A lot of people reacted with enthusiasm upon hearing Joanna Newsom's sophomore album would consist of five songs, but run 55 minutes. I, however, have a thing for short and pop, not expansive and jammy. The news of Steve Albinis involvement could have been good or bad; that of Van Dyke Parks role was mostly weird. The cover art was almost wolf-in-the-moonlight-T-shirt bad. What to think when it was almost sure to be a disappointment after 2004's The Milk-Eyed Mender, that initial firework of skewed beauty?
E.M.W. Tillyard, in his marvelous tiny book The Elizabethan World Picture, describes the difference between angels and men like this: men have reason, and thats what distinguishes them from animals, but angels have a kind of innate understanding, and they dont need to think things through to know truths. That distinction is very much in play when I call Newsom's Ys an angelic album. It takes almost unimaginable flights and leaps, like some kind of drunken interstellar bird, many of which are transportingly delightful, as when Newsoms voice reaches up into a literal squeak, a sound that you would think no human could make and one that passes so quickly you need to scroll back and listen to it again and again to grasp whats going on.
But that same very inhuman quality that fascinates makes the album occasionally unrelatable. How do you wrap your head around a song like Only Skin, which is nearly 17 minutes long and absolutely crammed with words? You need time to have some hope of doing so, and lots of it. Luckily, comprehension isnt necessary. The pure aesthetic experience provides enough motivation to buy the thing and spin it plenty, as in the part of Only Skin about 13-and-a-half minutes in where the vocals of Smog's Bill Callahan come in to supply bass, winding and slipping against Newsoms in a way both ethereal and sexy as the tempo speeds up throughout.
Ys might exist in another sphere from our terrestrial one, but so do the things glimpsed through the Hubble Telescope, and were better for knowing both, even with our tiny, reason-driven minds.
Walcott
Swallow the Ghost EP
Independent Release
originally published November 15, 2006
Local band Walcott wears its influences, mainly early-'90s hippie rock and 1970s keyboard-driven R&B, the way a ghost wears a sheet: once removed, theres nothing there. More and more records like this are being produced here in Athens and this trend is becoming increasingly disheartening. Swallow the Ghost is among the most soulless and generic releases from any Athens band this year.
Beginning with the rhythm-and-blues driven Song For The Quitters, the band moves from an irritating guitar intro into a pretentious vocal melody that apes no one so much as the late Shannon Hoon of Blind Melon, another dude famous for stealing stances. Laid Me Down is barely even a song, even though it runs more than four minutes, but it is a killer pastiche of trite, tossed-off ideas.
The EP's title track is a veritable rogue's gallery of lyrical shame, with lines such as The roach can stand tall, but dead bugs dont crawl and Seems like yesterday we dreamed of tomorrow. Walcott must really want the listener to absorb this stuff, too, as the music accompanying the track sounds like an Elton John piano melody saturated with Robitussin.
At what point does a band decide that its desirable to sound this empty? Swallow the Ghost bears absolutely no sign of anything beating below the surface. With the current state of technology being such that anyone can make music and promote it worldwide via the Internet, Swallow the Ghost is the best argument this week for the master taking his tools back.
Southern Bitch
Strong Medicine
Captiva
originally published November 15, 2006
From the start, Southern Bitch has been about playing loud Southern rock in the tradition of the great arena rock bands of the '70s. Though the local band's first record or two had more country in it than the Bitch carries today, the band still stays pretty much true to that sentiment. The Bitch isn't going to convert you if youre not into that sort of thing, but if you are, it's going to rock your socks off.
The new album Strong Medicine is about exactly that; its an entire record about rock and roll and the entire lifestyle that surrounds it. (I havent asked the band, so Im not sure if concept record applies here, but thats what the content centers around.) Far from being a celebration of excess and gaudiness that are often portrayed as its hallmarks, this album centers on the struggles, joys, hopes and dreams of a young band on the road. Ive had my mind made up since I picked up my first guitar, Adam Musick sings early on. That sets the tone for the ups and downs of the rest of Strong Medicine, which is a constant barrage of Southern rock riffs and rhythms for its duration.
The musicianship is top-notch here; Southern Bitch has always played as if the band were in a sold-out stadium, whether playing in the studio, to 50 people or a packed house. Particular standouts on this album include On A Roll, My Time and Fire Road 90, in which Adam Musick sings, Everythings new when youre 17! It's probably the best summation of Strong Medicine available. After a few spins, the album feels as idealistic as taking out your parents car with your friends for the night: free, unassuming and ready to rock.
Matt and Kim
Matt and Kim
I Love Comix
originally published November 15, 2006
There's something to be said for literal-mindedness, I guess. Matt and Kim are indeed a two-piece act consisting of a boy named Matt and a girl named Kim; they are from Brooklyn, and to their credit, they do not sound like they are from Brooklyn. I'm thinking Bloomington, specifically the Plan-it-X Records sound, if there is such a thing. Less a Plan-it-X "sound" and more a Plan-it-X "feel" - these are tunes for punk girls to shake their asses to, doing that dance with their palms pushing out, you know the one.
Onto the semantics: Matt plays the keyboards and sings, Kim plays the drums and grins, constantly. Everything is four-on-the-floor fun, with basement sweat and 40-oz. slosh spilling through the speakers. Comparisons to Mates of State would be way off, as Matt and Kim value up-the-punx partyisms over MoS's polished music-chops acrobatics. Kim bashes away with joyful abandon, and Matt's synths are Casiotone tested and Yamaha approved.
By now you probably have a good idea of whether or not you'd enjoy Mr. and Mrs. Punk Prom here, but welcome to the deal-breaker: our friend Matt apparently attended the Saddle Creek School for Vocal Theatrics, but instead of overwrought sorrow, he stretches every syllable in affected glee. Think the Buzzcocks' Pete Shelley mixed with your (least) favorite Midwestern emo sensation. If this pushes you over the edge of Mt. Adorable into Twee Canyon, that's fine, I'm almost there myself, but I can't help it: I'm rooting for these kids. They can leave the wheel-reinvention to their fellow Brooklynites; Matt and Kim are far more psyched on smiling faces and short shorts. Can you blame them?
Various Artists
Peanut Butter Wolf Presents: Chrome Children
Adult Swim / Stone's Throw
originally published November 15, 2006
Taking 2005s The Mouse and the Mask in mind, which I was not too much a fan of, that Peanut Butter Wolfs long-awaited follow-up mix-tape Chrome Children was to be similarly underwritten by Adult Swim stirred more anxiety than exhilaration within my gentle spirit. Nervous in part because formalizing the overlap in sensibilities between Adult Swim programming and psyche /hip hop seems to me an uninspired gesture [sound of bong water gurgling], and partly also because drawing both an albums concept and its content from the same source material frequently makes kitsch artifacts better than great albums, I scour the liner notes for a sign unfortunately, there are no notes: however, the disc does come with a bonus DVD of a live set performed by Madvillian at SXSW. As it turns out, Adult Swim lends cash and trademark to this record, nothing more.
Its been four years since Stones Throw released PBWs previous compilation, Jukebox 45s, which, in addition to resurrecting gems from such forgotten talents as LA Carnival and The Stark Reality, provided a glimpse into the unique niche being carved out currently by the stable of talent on this phenomenal West Coast imprint. And this second installment follows up suitably in all respects.
From the archives of yesteryear, PBW retrieves nuggets from both New York bedroom funkster Gary Wilson (I highly recommend listeners check out larger chunks of this weirdos catalog) and a rarity from the '70s, soul/ funk band Pure Essence. New material is also provided courtesy Madvillian, Roc-C and Madlibs younger brother Oh No, and there's an interesting trip-hop track by Torontonian My Bloody Valentine enthusiast Koushik. While overall the preponderance of tracks either produced or emceed by the late Jay Dee lend the album an elegiac tone, the inclusion of Dillas blissed out Nothing like This - complete with shoegaze guitar loops - retrieves the listen from melancholy of any sort. I really wish Peanut Butter Wolf were my friend.
Girl Talk
Night Ripper
Illegal Art
originally published November 15, 2006
Pittsburgh deejay Gregg Gillis is Girl Talk, and he makes long, dense mash-ups. There are 16 tracks on Night Ripper, Girl Talk's third album, but moments from many times that numbers of songs can be found, each cut up and placed atop and alongside complete pieces of other songs. The album, however, lacks certain elements that have propelled other mashup projects into the realm of legend: an overarching narrative, surprises, a sense of humor. Over time, though, particular charms emerge.
Almost no individual song gets sampled for more than four bars, and this super-dense cutting suggests Girl Talk's interest is in subtle revelations rather than grand reveals. Few pieces glimmer brighter in their new setting, nor are they necessarily transformed, from Young Jeezy to Nirvana to Neutral Milk Hotel to 2 Live Crew to Hall & Oates to more than 130 other artists Instead, the rapid shifts taken by the music - besides energizing the mix - function as hyper-accelerated musical consumption, and present connections between seemingly disparate pieces of pop music, as well as the grand sweep of sound, without explicitly suggesting conclusions.
For instance, midway through the track "Smash Your Head," drums from Nirvana's "Serve the Servants" and the piano from "Tiny Dancer" back up the first verse of the Notorious B.I.G.'s "Juicy." Three things, totally different, but the first two equal the second: the comfortable nostalgia of Elton plus the menace of Nirvana is a perfect thumbnail sketch of why "Juicy" is probably the best back-in-the-day song ever.
There are a hundred moments like this in Night Ripper, and that's even before you begin to see the complexity of the formal construction. It's a different kind of mashup, and it's a great one.
Animal Collective
Hollinndagain
Paw Tracks
originally published November 15, 2006
Animal Collective has been one of the most fascinating bands of this young century. Spirits They've Gone, Spirits They've Vanished/Dance Manatee was an interesting debut (or debuts, since they were originally released separately but then combined), and among its many flaws lay blinding pearls of promise. Since then the band's exceeded any and all expectations on the way to becoming an improbably popular group. The influences were many when members Avey Tare, Panda Bear and the Geologist started out, but no artist before them ever drew upon them in such a fascinating way. Strains of no-wave, post-punk, noise, minimalism, ambient, drone, noise and even Beach Boys pop floated through the music with a nonsensically perfect sense. There was the feeling of ideas exploding from these young heads, so many that they tripped on them repeatedly at first.
Hollinndagain is a live document capturing the band before it began its swift flight skyward. Recorded in late 2001 before the seminal freakfest Here Comes the Indian and the tranquil Campfire Songs - two disparate elements that would soon intertwine to a more perfected sound - these seven tracks show the band already moving beyond the debut's parameters. No studio versions of these tracks were ever made, so it could easily be called an official album; Hollinndagain was only issued in limited quantities on vinyl in 2002, and makes its CD debut now.
"I See You Pan" will throw off many newfound fans with its 10 minutes of scraping static and noise tempered by vocal percussion and simplistic tones. "Pride and Fight" points to the band's future tribal folk. And more of what you wouldn't expect. If you're just starting to make your way backward through Animal Collective's incredible and strange story, give Hollinndagain a chance. It's a worthy snapshot of the band at a turning point and a worthy addition to a legacy that's just begun.
Sleepy Horses
Somewhere Out West, Lonesome For You
Bad Dog, Good Records
originally published November 15, 2006
In his spaghetti westerns, Italian director Sergio Leone presented larger-than-life takes on the American West, pushing stories of heroes, anti-heroes, sin and redemption to legendary levels. He created a world that played to the preconceptions of his modern European audiences, both reinforcing and elevating the mythology of the West. Since moving to Athens in 2005, the band Sleepy Horses has worked a similar vein, delivering sweeping desert soundscapes and conjuring images of baked earth, big skies and bigger stories.
Somewhere Out West, Lonesome For You is the debut studio full-length, and it proves that quality shines through: musicians can move to town (as guitar- and bass-playing vocalists Nic and Brandi Goodson did), enlist a talented local crew (as they did with guitarist Kyle Harris, steel player Matt Stoessel, drummer Jason Peckham on the album and now drummer Jim Wilson for the live shows) and make all the right friends (Is there a night that Nic Goodson isn't outside of Flicker or the 40 Watt?), but if the songs weren't quality then it all wouldn't add up. Luckily they are, luckily it does.
"Lubbock Love Song" opens the album with a spirited West Texas jolt, a Laredo street band number laced with handclaps, and through strong tracks like "Last Straw," "Makes No Sense" and "Hearts Are Breaking," the band explores the possibilities of guitar reverb and dusty, desert Telecaster.
Brandi Goodson takes on lead vocal duties on "Hearts Are Breaking," and her plainspoken phrasing suits the song, and the band, well. There's a slight Texas twang and a Southern curve to her vowels, but the accentuation's never over the top, and the slight flatness contrasts the steel guitar and strings well.
The more pensive "Sam and Galen," like "Lubbock Love Song" before it, takes a laid-back and romantic approach; fans of country-pop fusers Calexico should find much to like, although Sleepy Horses don't share that band's overt fascination with the pep of mariachi horns - other influences include Buck Owens, Neil Young and other standard touchstones.
If Somewhere Out West, Lonesome For You has a fault, it's that the album can sound a little too straightforward. It could take more risks and afford to be a little weirder. Closer "Geography" coming in at nearly 11 minutes, hints at some of the more adventurous sounds of the band's live performances, delving more into sprawling feedback and atmospheric layers.
It's a small complaint, though, for this very good album, and at the CD release show this week, the Horses will have a full string section with them, so it's not like the band isn't moving forward. In translating for a Georgia audience, Sleepy Horses recall the stories and sounds of their West Texas home while making sure the stories are pulled out of the realm of myth; they're still being written.
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