Let's be Frank

It's a thoroughly mashed-up world we live in. Everyone knows a little about everything and no one's afraid to connect things for fear of transgressing a boundary. That's mostly great, except for the vertigo. Which makes it interesting to go back to those visionaries who had their feet in many worlds back when that sort of thing was met with perplexed faces. And it's hard to go down that road without ending up in Zappa's universe. Even on the fairly slapdash Chunga's Revenge album, he made some deliciously unlikely leaps. From serpentine extraterrestrial jazz to glorious sleaze rawkin', here are a couple personal classix.
 

Frank Zappa — Twenty Small Cigars

Frank Zappa —  Tell Me You Love Me

Peace until voice

That moment when you realize you're staring off into the distance and have been for some time, but you've become so definitively at peace that you don't want to remember the before or consider the after. That is until about 5:10, when those evil voices slowly intrude and start melting your face.

Michael Hoenig — Voices Of Where

Sunbake day men

Jesu Christo, the heat! My body is becoming much less ambiguous in its rejection of these conditions. I only wish I could translate sweat to speech. Meanwhile, here's one from a tropical land of amphibious creatures shaped like math equations. 

90 Day Men — When Your Luck Runs Out

Independance days

I'm not sure if I more tired of being fried by work or complaining about how I keep getting fried by work. Not a great loop to be in, which makes this a well-timed holiday break, even if I can't help but feel like I'm neglecting at least a few responsibilities. So goes the self-inflicted psychological masochism. 

But let's forget all that and luxuriate in some classic disco. Nile Rodgers and company cooked up some irresistible tunes, and this is one of their early best. Some say this laid down the whole template — full-band lock groove, gospel-ish voices, and some fancy chordal moves to raise your eyebrows. Have yourselves a fabbo couple of days to unwind, assuming your schedule works out that way. And let's hope that power grid holds up.

Chic - Everybody Dance

Young machines in the open air

How sad are reunion tours? I suppose the spectrum is broad — between the goulish spectacle of another Rolling Stones rollout and the mostly respectable showing by folks like the Pixies — but still it's just an unnecessary exercise. Unless you need the money, in which case, put that disclaimer on the name of the tour, so everyone knows it's about real need and not vanity. Which is why Os Mutantes's wanna-be arena rock showing at Prospect Park this last Friday was such a bummer. It's not like they were ever in it for the money. And really, the only thing you can do to legendary status is to tarnish it by putting your good name on uninspired mediocrity in your plump years. At least it was another beautiful park night, and happily, some kids in the opening band saved the day with their giddily backward-looking sugar pop. Nothing for the ages, but great for welcoming a summer Saturday night.

Javelin - Drummachines

Music for beautiful evenings

I caught the Amadou and Mariam concert in the park the other day and was struck by how much it captured equally what I like and dislike about shows in the park, which pretty much aligns with what I like and don't like about crowds. Also, what I like and dislike about women in flowing dresses swaying to the music with their eyes closed. Still, you can't argue with a beautiful evening. I'm not sure if this tune got played, but a brief crawl through their albums got its loping groove deeply stuck in my brain.  

Amadou and Mariam — Sarama

Sunshower

Have I really made it more than 35 years into this life without having a Weather Report phase? Sure, various band members have made their presence felt on great albums (Shorter and Zawinul helping Miles Davis reach magical heights). Others I think of mostly in the context of instructional drums videos and endorsement deals. And let's not forget the very rock star-ish life and death of Jaco Pastorius. His headband lives on though.

At any rate, I'm in it now, and I'm not foggy-eared enough to ignore the fact that a good half of this band's work is peacock showoff stuff. But it's threaded through some compelling passages. Then there's the thick layer of cheese, which I enjoy heartily despite (or because) of its high fat content. Such as this ballad, which probably launched a thousand unfortunate saxophone careers, to say nothing of the fretless bass odysseys. You may find it impossible to keep a straight face. Me neither. And yet I will not stop listening. 

Weather Report — A Remark You Made

Love me in your car

Hypnagogic pop may have gone overground, but for me it's still the stuff of dreams. Literally! Some folks like it menacingly washed-out and queasy, and others like it magically vivid like midnight sunshine. There's plenty to like across that spectrum from the good folks over at Fortune 500. Here's a highlight. Deposit this in your bank of cool breeze cruisers.

Saint Pepsi — Carpark

Robot afros

Herbie Hancock has amazed me several times in my life. He was cool Mr. "Rockit" in my early sentient years, only to reveal an exquisitely textural presence in the string of Miles Davis classics I discovered as a teenager, only to be occasionally very brilliant in his hit-or-miss '70s Fusion wanderings. Here's a gem that floored me anew just a few days ago. It sounds like a possible Kraftwerk future fantasy, but with a generous dose of non-Germanic warmth. The fabulous textures are there too. Far-out synths and jazz familiars finding beautiful common ground. 

Herbie Hancock — Rain Dance

Archer's aim

We all need our solo projects. Sea & Cake guitarist/illustrator Archer Prewitt falls squarely into that camp of quiet contributors who impress with a side career of well-drawn pop daydreams. Nothing earth-shattering, but a useful outlet for creative ideas that might otherwise get subsumed into weird dinner recipes or other pursuits that would be of no benefit to me. Glad he's not that selfish.

Archer Prewitt - I'm Coming Over

Will-o-the-wisp

Feeling drained from a busy work week, which makes me susceptible to mysterious stringy noises leading me down equally mysterious mental paths. I'm not sure if it's light or darkness in the distance, but I can't resist the slow momentum toward it. 

Nels Cline - Friends Of Snowman

The neurotic

I've been in a serious Genesis rabbithole. It spans all stages of their career, from the baroque-iest to the beardiest to the Miami Vice-iest. It also spans all segments of my listening life way back to early teenage discoveries. And I'm not even gonna be bothered with allegations of cheesiness. No reason not to be fascinated by exquisiteness even when found in fundamental mistakes. So where to begin? A mixtape is probably warranted. Maybe it'll come to that, but meantime, here's a B-side from what consensus views as the low point. And yet, despite the unlikely stadium rockers they'd become, they're still trying to put together proggy epics, even if they were a bit lazy in the construction. They're also oddly trying to sound like the Police. Give them props for the effort, and the title nicely suits my last few days' manic journey through several circles of real estate hell. I'm ready for my home by the sea.

Genesis - Do The Neurotic

Medium rare

There comes a time when it's hard to make distinctions between A-list, B-list, and even lesser bands of the post-punk era. I wasn't around to make those judgments first hand anyway, so it's all retrospective evaluations of other people's memories. And aren't we all in the same gang in the end? Listening to this track, I'm happy to imagine Medium Medium were the most innovative mofos in the UK. I might even be willing to believe they invented the slap bass and dour vocal posturing.

Medium Medium - Nadsat Dream

Nursery riot

I wonder if the song that gets stuck in your head right before vacation is a function of where you were or where you're going. Some weeks' distance hasn't made the matter any clearer, but I still find myself humming the verses of this funky German obscurity (made available by the always excellent Growing Bin). The chorus makes me wish I hadn't cut my hair. And then a few days of crippling heat come along and I'm happy to remove all barriers to the air. 

Achterbahn Band - Richmond Road Riot

What have I done to you?

Whining is intolerable. Especially whining about the state of your heart as a stand-in for emotional distress, not an actual medical condition. Unless you put it to a backing track that soars and swells with the verve of a heart that functions just fine (with bells even). Irony or fakery —  you tell me.

Loney Dear - My Heart

Takin' a Stan

One Stanley deserves another. And another dark corner of the room, long exhalations, etc. Another way to fabricate the small hours. I see no reason to pick up the pace today. And I will make every attempt to burrow into these piano chords.

Stan Tracey Quartet - Starless And Bible Black

Back to life

It's great to get away. Essential, refreshing, re-energizing, but never enough. Time away just reinforces the reality of what you're getting away from. And so you end up staring down the last few moments before returning to your day-to-day. Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy for the day-to-day I get to have today. But still there is a blueness, telegraphed in a face that stuggles to keep its muscles relaxed while concealing anxiety over rejoining its familiar environment. Which makes this as good a time as any to give oneself fully over to the near-ridiculous nitetime soul jazz cues of Mr. Turrentine. Ten minutes to convince you that you are the suave devil you could never really be.

Stanley Turrentine - Sugar

Steppin' out

They're not letting me go without a struggle. The powers that be seem intent to keep the stress on until the last minute. Not that I absolve myself of internalizing the frantic vibes in the air. Which I appreciate in a song like this, though not necessarily in life situations. But forget all that panic for now. I'm headed out for vacation, and this track can double as my getaway soundtrack. Meanwhile, I'm going to try desperately not to allow this terrifying album cover to take up space in my mind. See you back around Memorial Day. 

Johnny Harris - Stepping Stones

In the (airto)night

I can feel it coming...vacation time, that is! My brain has already begun to climb out of the head that sits atop a neck knotted with stupid stresses. It has gotten on the plane and is now doing a little dance over the Atlantic, accompanied by this tune, and damn right is singing along with every note of scatting that starts at 2:50. Can't wait for the rest of me to catch up.

Airto Morerira - Romance Of Death

Memory of a memory

Oh hypnagogic wonderland/nightmarescape. It's almost too easy to fall lifelessly into its arms, so specific is the pull of the repeat-play-damaged Betamax quease. When sensory overload is your square one, how can adult terrors not feel a little anticlimactic.

James Ferraro - Buffy Honkerburg's Answering Machine

Proto punk

What's your punk rock? Lifestyle toys aside, you've got what you bob your head to, and that pounding needs no cherry on top. Which takes the thing outside of time and genre. Just a few basic moments of intense momentum. Maybe it's a barely articulate paean to your hometown. Maybe it's something even dumber. Here's a possible template.

La Dusseldorf - La Dusseldorf

Keep on running faster than time

Sometimes I wish I was living a life where the approaching Friday sunset promised a world transformed. A license to expel accumulated tensions. Or an identity taken out on short loan with a nasty interest rate. If I did, the first moments breathing that air would sound a lot like this.

Barclay James Harvest — Love On The Line

If'n

It's the nature of music scenes to come and go. For improvising musicians, the last thing you'd expect is for them to linger too long in proven configurations. It's sad to see things dissipate, but that's what makes the moments meaningful. As long as the gigs keeps coming, I'm all for moving on to the next thing. Which made it fun to catch this trio a few weeks back, reunited after about a decade, picking up right in the groove where they left off. For an evening anyway.

Chris Speed Trio - Gina

Tangerine fire

Going deeper into Tangerine Dream's soundtracking heyday and finding more and more to love. I remember being disturbed by Firestarter as a kid, and yet the musical cues made no lasting impression. Funny how serene, gauzy, and un-fiery these themes are. And yet, they do capture the spookiness of a kid with destructive supernatural powers.

Tangerine Dream - Crystal Voice

Tangerine Dream - Testlab

There's no worry, play guitars

Yikes, pardon the lack of 'blague prolificness! Let's put it down to a mix of distraction, fatigue, and selectivity. Not sure if the pace will pick up, but at any rate, I'll aim to double up on quality — as I define it, at least.

Here's one from a band whose stunning pop nuggetry made its way onto this space a good while back. I finally got ahold of their first 2 full albums proper, and I do heartily recommend. No shortage of pop, and no lack of interesting twists. Case in point. Starts off like the end of a long day, and then suddenly backs it up to a peppy morning with a heart made of pure gold. As a side note, I applaud the lack of guitars (monstrous or otherwise) on a tune so titled.

New Musik - Guitars