New York Music Daily

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Tag: instrumental music

A Killer New Twang and Surf Rock Album from the Bakersfield Breakers

The Bakersfield Breakers are one of New York’s funnest and most intriguing bands. They play twangy surf and country-flavored instrumentals inspired by Buck Owens’ wickedly catchy, Telecaster-fueled early 60s sound. There are times when you can’t tell this band apart from their influences, whether they’re doing reverbtoned Ventures themes, rugged Merle Haggard-style C&W, elegantly moody countrypolitan, even a rampaging cover of the Dick Dale classic The Wedge. They’ve got an amazing new album out, In the Studio with the Bakersfield Breakers, streaming at Bandcamp and a whole slew of shows coming up. They’re at South St. Seaport today, July 22 at noon for all you folks in the Financial District, then at Otto’s at 9 tomorrow night, July 23, then a gig at Sidewalk on July 27 at 6 and on the Coney Island Boardwalk on August 16 at 2 PM with a bunch of other instrumental and surf bands.

This band is all about tunes and textures: a clang, a crash, biting staccato, lingering jangle and everything in between from Keith Yaun’s multitracked guitars, he does it all. Bassist John Hamilton and drummer John DiGiulio team up through shuffles, surfy stomp and more subtle, gentler grooves. All of Yaun’s wild spiraling on the opening track, BB Breakdown, makes you forget that the band is just playing simple blues changes. The aptly titled Longing blends a sad, spiky mix of honkytonk, incisive blues and Britfolk licks and moody ranchera rock.

Hawaiian War Chant is basically a mashup of Buck Owens’ Buckaroo and the Charles Mingus classic Haitian Fight Song. Gored by a Board has a sarcastic edge: Weird Al couldn’t have done a Dick Dale sendup any better than this. They follow that with a precise, twangy reinvention of the Tennessee Waltz and then the Owens-ish boogie Honcho.

Stingray has more of the Buckaroo allusions – and some cool fuzz bass leads from Hamilton. Summer Sunset builds a wistful, regretful mood: it’s the most Lynchian of all the tracks here. Yaun builds to a series of sizzling electrified bluegrass licks on STP, then alludes to George Harrison on Whispering Guitar, right down to the watery Abbey Road-era chorus-box sonics. And speaking of the Beatles, the trio very cleverly interpolate a Fab Four classic into their cover of the Monkees’ Pleasant Valley Sunday.

New Paltz starts out sounding as if it’s going to be another series of variations on the Tennessee Waltz, but then goes a lot further afield. There are also two strolling takes of Just Holding Your Hand here, one instrumental and the other with a nuanced countrypolitan vocal by a mystery guest chanteuse. Is this the best rock instrumental album of 2014? The upcoming album by Big Lazy is the only foreseeable competition.

Good Cop and Bad Cop Try to Remember Make Music NY 2014

Good Cop: Before we get sidetracked, which is what we usually end up doing, let’s run down the artists we got to see at this year’s Saturday edition of the annual buskers’ celebration, Make Music NY. We both agreed that four-piece percussion group Ensemble Et Al were a lot of fun. I had never seen a gamelan orchestra other than on PBS, so I really liked Gamelan Kusuma Laras, who hit the spot especially for me considering that Bad Cop had insisted I drag myself out of bed early on a Saturday just to get up to the Upper West Side for an act so bad that I’m not going to even mention who he was.

Bad Cop: My bad.

Good Cop: Ain’t that the truth. I was really out of it, and I was really in a bad mood after you subjected me to a wanky bass player singing Christian rock. Now your logic was that somebody who’s willing to play a show at ten in the morning has to be totally punk rock, he probably stayed up all night the night before, right? Well, you didn’t do your due diligence. And besides, there are other people who would be willing to play at ten AM on a Saturday. They’re called morning people and they are evil.

Bad Cop: At least the gamelan put you in a good mood.

Good Cop: Why didn’t you at least google the guy? I sure could have used another hour of sleep.

Bad Cop: I did. Couldn’t find anything.

Good Cop: My point exactly. I think you did it to be sadistic. Anyway, we agreed that the other two acts we saw, Killer Killy Dwyer, who’s sort of a combination performance artist and comedy-rock songwriter, and then instrumental rock band No Grave Like the Sea were also worth running around Brooklyn to see.

Bad Cop: We would have seen more bands but there were a lot of no-shows.

Good Cop: I don’t want to get into that.

Bad Cop: It’s germane to the conversation.

Good Cop: OK. The boss at this blog had mapped out a plan that sent us all over town, with plenty of choices depending on how much time we needed to get from Point A to Point B and so on. I’m sure we were the only people in town who were doing anything that crazy!

Bad Cop: As expected, lots of people who were on the Make Music NY master calendar either didn’t get to where they were supposed to be on time, or completely blew off their sets.

Good Cop: The program made a point of saying that set times were approximate…

Bad Cop: Approximate doesn’t mean nonexistent. This happens every year. I blew this off last year but I went to the one the year before, at least tried to, and saw a grand total of two bands in about six or seven hours and most of that was on the subway since everywhere I went, there was nothing to indicate that anyone was going to play there. I might do this next year if Blog Boss asks, when it’s on a Sunday, but after next year, there’s no way in hell I’m blowing off work just so I can run all over town on the hottest day of the year.

Good Cop: This year the weather couldn’t have been better, and it cooled off even more at night.

Bad Cop: Temporary reprieve. Don’t count your chickens.

Good Cop: Good point. Anyway, let’s tell the people about who we saw, starting with Ensemble Et Al. How would you describe this band?

Bad Cop: I’d call them downtempo, trip-hop, chillout music, but with an indie classical thing on the side. They know who Philip Glass and Steve Reich are, that sort of thing.

Good Cop: I really liked them. They looked like they’re all good friends, they interacted a lot with each other. And then they played frisbee in the street afterward. Everybody in this band smiles a lot. Which makes sense because their music is hypnotic and intricate, and requires a lot of teamwork, and a lot of tradeoffs, and the four people in the band clearly like working with each other.

Bad Cop: Ron Tucker is the group leader. I didn’t catch the names of the other three. Everybody in the group switched off between instruments – marimba, vibes, glockenspiel, a little synth, a drum kit. They like loopy phrases that they run over and over again, then they shift tempos. Some of those were weird but others were more straight ahead. I thought it was cool that since the gamelan wasn’t set up yet, they started their set all over again. Even though we’d just seen them play those first two songs, I didn’t mind hearing them a second time.

Good Cop: Whoah, that’s high praise from this dude. Ensemble Et Al’s music is gentle and rippling but also dancing and energetic. It was on the quiet side, which I liked since I was short on sleep and in a bad mood. I wish I’d brought a mat.

Bad Cop: You would have passed out.

Good Cop: You’re probably right. Gamelan Kusuma Laras‘ music, at least at this show, was very dreamy and ethereal. As you’d say, it vamped along. They made a good segue with Ensemble Et Al. Some of their tempos were strange but others were more straightforward. Their performance was very tightly choreographed – various band members took turns leading the group – and they came across as being very well rehearsed. I guess you have to be if you have, what, 35 or so people in the group?

Bad Cop: Something like that. I agree, this really hit the spot.

Good Cop: The gamelan bells are tuned in some kind of approximation of the Asian scale. Lots of songs would start fast and then slow down, then really slow to a crawl at the end. I wasn’t expecting to hear as much singing as there was, and I don’t speak anything that would be spoken in Indonesia so I have no idea of what the lyrics were. But the contrast between the very sober, even somber, almost chanted vocals, and the high, airy, tinkling bell tones, struck a very beautiful balance.

Bad Cop: I wish they’d used that big gong more. It only got into one song, at least for as long as we stuck around, which was for the better part of an hour.

Good Cop: Then we went off looking for more gongs but couldn’t find them.

Bad Cop: Just the idea that more than one crazy person would lug a bunch of big heavy gongs into the middle of Central Park in the midday sun, in the age of global warming, on the longest day of the year, makes me laugh. This was ostensibly the New York Gong Ensemble – which according to Google, doesn’t exist, but somehow made it onto the Make Music NY calendar – and Blog Boss wanted us to check it out.

Good Cop: But it was on the way to the west side train and we had to get down to Chelsea anyway…

Bad Cop: Where there was another no-show…

Good Cop: And it looked like somebody was squatting in that band’s space…

Bad Cop: Which seemed to be happening a lot. And it wasn’t like bands were fighting over space, either.

Good Cop: As you might already know, what Make Music NY does is help secure permits for outdoor performances, all over town, all day long, every June 21. A great idea…

Bad Cop: Some backstory. The reason why Blog Boss didn’t cover this show personally is that Blog Boss is officially retired from covering Make Music NY, having written a scathing review a couple of years ago which among other things challenged the promoters to move it to a more realistic date, like in the fall when the heat isn’t so oppressive. Personally, I think the whole summer solstice connection is bullshit – remember, this whole thing got started by a bunch of French hippies.

Good Cop: So this is where the B team, a.k.a. us, goes into action. Our next stop was Grand Army Plaza where we expected to see a really good Balkan brass band, another no-show. Instead, there were a bunch of drum corps…

Bad Cop: …whose big extravaganza with banghra funk band Red Baraat we missed because by the time that got underway we had to get over to Branded Saloon a few blocks west to see Killy Dwyer. Now she was hot!

Good Cop: What she was wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Bad Cop: Actually, when you think about it, it did.

Good Cop: I know where you’re going with that and you’re not going any further. Killy Dwyer used to front a parody band called Kill the Band. They put out a couple of albums and then broke up. This was recent. She was playing solo, with lots of digital loops: choir and orchestration and all kinds of stuff. What she does is funny songs interspersed with lots of improv, shock theatre set to music. And all the jokes have a political edge: she riffed on racism and gentrification and musicians getting priced out of the city and pretty much everything she did was funny. A lot of people who try to do political humor end up sounding really strident and she had both of us laughing out loud, which wasn’t easy to do considering that I was running on fumes and Bad Cop was really stoned.

Bad Cop: Let’s tell some of her jokes.

Good Cop: No, that would be a spoiler.

Bad Cop: But I wanna tell the one about the clitoris….

Good Cop: OK. She’s obviously got a theatrical background, knows how to work a crowd. So she asked everybody, does anyone here know what a clitoris is? And one guy sheepishly raised his hand. See, she said, that proves my point. There’s definitely a need for a song that explains what the clit is all about.

Bad Cop: And for awhile it looked like she was going to lie down in the street, right there in broad daylight for everyone to see, and rub one out.

Good Cop: And then she stopped because a bunch of kids on bikes went by and she blamed them for ruining her orgasm. Which was a setup for another joke which I’m not going to tell.

Bad Cop: It was kind of a throwback to the kind of edgy performance art you’d see during the punk era, except with up-to-date references, you know, idiots on Facebook and that sort of thing. Along with the jokes, she did a fake gospel song, some hip-hop and a creepy garage rock song that she played on guitar. I recommend that you see her sometime: she’s funny to listen to on the web but that’s no substitute for what she’s like in person. She’s at Sidewalk on July 31 at 11.

Good Cop: From there we actually were able to catch a G train to Bushwick for No Grave Like the Sea

Bad Cop: Who were epic. An amazing band, one of the best I’ve seen in a long time. Cinematic without being cheesy. Postrock instrumentals with big swells and dips and genuine menace. And fronted by the bass player. Usually a bass solo is the last thing I want to hear, but when it’s Tony Maimone playing them, I want to hear one in every song. And the reality is that he really didn’t play any solos at all, just variations on riffs. Big, fat ones. Damn, this guy is inspiring to watch.

Good Cop: I was surprised there weren’t more people in the park to see them. They really have presence. It was like being at Madison Square Garden – their themes really envelope you. [to Bad Cop] I think you liked them more than I did – I think it’s a guy thing. Swaying, thunderous rhythms and anguished screams from the guitar and that ominous, booming bass. It wouldn’t surprise me if a lot of their songs were used as video game themes. Navy Seals Kuwait Inferno Challenge! That sort of thing…

Bad Cop: But with the anthemic drive of a rock band, like Pink Floyd or the Church playing instrumentals, or Mogwai. Maimone played with a slide on the first song – when’s the last time you saw a bassist do that? He owns Studio G in Williamsburg so he brought a super state-of-the-art rig and a pedalboard. They did a song with a reggae beat, then one that was more trip-hop…

Good Cop: …but loud!

Bad Cop: Yeah, there was a truck depot across the street from the park but you couldn’t hear the trucks backing in. That’s how loud, and how good this band was. It made my night. The guitarist stayed within himself even though he was playing all these screaming, wailing lines, the keyboardist played all these weird washes of sound, and used lots of pedals, one with a backward masking effect. Some of it was like watching Savage Republic with a keyboard, but without the Middle Eastern influences, I guess you could say.

Good Cop: I wanted to try to catch some of the Dum Dum Girls show at Prospect Park afterward, but there were problems on the L train so I went home.

Bad Cop: You should have taken the G instead…

Good Cop: I wasn’t going to push my luck. We already got lucky with the G once on the way over and I didn’t want to risk it a second time. Getting stuck in the middle of Bed-Stuy after dark with no other trains, no bus, no choice but to walk, no fun.

Bad Cop: You probably wonder why this blog has waited til now to publish this…

Good Cop: If you’re new to this blog, or new to us, we appear here about once a month, to offer a fresh perspective…

Bad Cop: We’re the B team. When Blog Boss doesn’t want to go out in the heat, or run around in the rain, or runs out of things to say about a particular artist, we get the call. Up and down like a yo-yo between here and the minor leagues, just to entertain you…

Good Cop: Anyway, the reason why this hasn’t appeared til now is that Blog Boss wanted to publish a bunch of stuff about upcoming shows first. As I understand it, that’s what people who follow this blog have asked for. We aim to please!

Bad Cop: And ostensibly there’s a historical aspect to what we do, which I think is debatable. But I agree with Blog Boss that on the web, the idea of getting the scoop on a particular event – a concept that goes back to the print-and-paper era – is dead. The first people on any scene will be tittering away on Twitter and Instagram and 99% of that turns out to be bullshit anyhow. It always takes awhile for the facts to shake out, whether you’re dealing with a newspaper, a blog, some loser’s Facebook page, the works. The more things change, you know the drill. Look for more snarky stuff from us here in a few days

Another Moody Violin Masterpiece from Hannah Thiem

Hannah Thiem‘s new album Brym – streaming at Soundcloud – finds the intense, haunting Copal violinist in typically eclectic mode. This time out, she’s traded her usual Middle Eastern-tinged sound for a more Nordic and classically-influenced one. As with Copal, her songs here manage to be terse yet soaringly majestic at the same time. Otherwise, the main difference between this and Copal is that the rhythm here is mechanical, and there are light electronic flourishes to flesh out the string melodies. But Thiem keeps those to a minimum, mostly just a simple synth bassline and some delicate atmospherics. Otherwise, it’s her violin, soaring and wailing and dancing with a lithe, wary majesty, dark and pensive and absolutely gorgeous.

The opening track, Skaldic Roulette sets the stage, washes of sound against murky distant lows introducing a trip-hop groove with Thiem’s signature windswept, plaintive melody. It reminds of Kristin Hoffmann at her most intense. Phavet is an example of how interesting you can make what’s essentially a one-chord jam if you vary your dynamics enough, in this case from an echoing, dancing, hypnotically bracing theme to a thicket of overdubs where Thiem becomes a one-woman string sextet.

The title track works variations on a traditional Norwegian theme. like an Alan Parsons Project instrumental from the 80s but more techy. This particular tune is more rustic, with a vivid sense of longing and absence in the midst of all its lush layers. The Finding mingles hints of dub, the Mediterranean, swooping vocalese and goth-tinged piano along with Thiem’s dynamically rich string multitracks. The album ends with Sweetest Invitation, which is bittersweet at best, a terse, goth-tinged ballad that’s the most classically-oriented piece here. Copal’s album Into the Shadow Garden is one of the best of the past decade: as far as short albums go, there hasn’t been anything released in 2014 that can touch this. If art-rock is your thing, grab this before it disappears.

Terse, Tuneful Cinematics from Ljova & the Kontraband

Is there a more cinematic composer working today than Lev “Ljova” Zhurbin? It would seem not. Like all film composers, he’s called on to portray every emotion and every possible scenario within a very short time frame, which informs his writing beyond the world of film as well. His latest album, No Refund on Flowers, with his string ensemble the Kontraband is considerably more stripped-down and a lot closer to those shapeshifting cinematics than the group’s boisterous, lushly orchestrated, absolutely brilliant 2008 debut, Mnemosyne. Which is to say that its charms are somewhat more subtle. Its title is a wry reference to a sign in the window at Ljova’s corner deli, Sing & Sing Market at 96th and Columbus Ave. He distinguishes himself with a devious wit along with his nonchalantly sizzling chops on the viola and fadolin along with accordionist Patrick Farrell, bassist Mike Savino and percussionist Mathias Kunzli. Vocals are  by Ljova’s wife, the crystalline, brilliant singer Inna Barmash. What’s most obvious from the first few bars of the dancing opening track, Sam I Am, is how much fun this band is having. Who would have expected the tangoesque (Ljova is a GREAT tango composer) interlude, or the Russian chromatics thrown in for good measure, or the way the band lets the suspense linger without any resolution?

The Blaine Game, a tightly wound, shapeshifting romp centered around a fluid accordion riff was written in a Blaine, Washington coffeeshop between jazz workshops, Kunzli’s rattle doing a fair impersonation of an espresso machine. Barmash – frontwoman of the deliriously fun Russian/Romany band Romashka – sings the John Jacob Niles version of Black Is the Colour, with a tender, crystalline resonance and some spine-tingling high notes, maxing out the torch factor over what’s essentially a tone poem until it goes all psychedelic and eerie. It has very little in common with the old English folk song.

The swaying nocturne Yossik’s Lullaby portrays one of Zhurbin’s sons as the more serious of the two; his brother Benjy gets a joyous bounce with operatic echoes and a big crescendo. Likewise, Mad Sketchbook, a NYC subway tableau, grows cleverly from a catchy circular theme to frenetic clusters and then back. The centerpiece of the album is By the Campfire, a sadly pulsing, chromatically-charged waltz, with a creepy, explosive, crashingly noisy interlude, Barmash sliding up and leading the band into a raging march. The lyrics – which Barmash translated from a 12th century German poem – echo a sadly universal theme: ‘Lies and spite rule the world, law is dead, truth is poisoned – the wisdom of our age teaches theft, deceit and hate. ” The album winds up with a pulsing waltz that builds on a riff from Mahler.

Majestic, Sweepingly Cinematic Instrumentals from Arms of Tripoli

Los Angeles instrumentalists Arms of Tripoli play exuberant, anthemic, frequently cinematic postrock, a swirling, pouncing, enveloping, propulsively percussive mix of guitars, bass, drums and keys. No verse or chorus is ever exactly the same. The music takes on majesty and grandeur as it goes on, with unexpected dynamic shifts that peak out and then hit quieter interludes. Guitarists Jaime Galvez, Michael Bouvet and Robert Bauwens, keyboardist K.C. Maloney, bassist Vic Lazar and drummer George Tseng don’t waste your time with lyrics, they just hit you with the hooks, one after another. More bands should be doing this. Their latest album Dream in Tongues is streaming at their Bandcamp page.

The opening track, Miniature Habitats, opens with an insistent guitar figure over resonant chords, shifts tempos back and forth as the drums kick in and then out, echoing Aussie art-rock legends the Church but with the faux-vintage keyboard voicings that are all the rage in indie circles. Then hits a long, hypnotic vamp and pretty much stays there. All this in just six minutes and thirty seconds: it gives you a good idea of what’s coming.

Velcro Thunder Fuck balances variations on a countryish guitar lick with layers of tinkling keys over a galloping rhythm as the bass shifs around, tremolopicked Mogwai-ish guitar giving way to a more echoey, dreampop-tinged chorus, then back up to the galloping theme. Scraping Skies shifts through even trickier tempos, anthemic guitar countermelodies rising over a midtempo sway, adding layer after layer of guitars and twinkling keys in the background.

Escalator Jazz turns out to be really cool. You think from the circular hook that opens it that it’s going to be a dorky mathrock song, but it comes together mightily on the chorus and from there it’s a big, majestic, atmospheric 6/8 anthem. The band works that same trick a little later with 10th Graders Forever, the most dreampop-flavored track here, and Canna, which eventually winds down to an unselfconsciously pretty art-rock lullaby of sorts.

Snowed In, with its allusions to surf music and spacious chords over nonchalantly galloping drums, is the most ominous of the tracks. Addendum begins with a country guitar lick and then builds to a spacerock theme with layers of distorted, ringing and echoing guitars – while it’s the most metal-ish and dynamically charged track here, it’s far from buffoonish. The final track is one of the simplest and most memorable melodies, a big ELO-ish anthem blended into an opaque, dreampop/postrock background, lush ambience contrasting with guitar snarl and bite.

A Haunting Exploration of the WWII Underground Resistance from Barbez

Brooklyn instrumentalists Barbez are one of the world’s great art-rock bands. Guitarist/frontman Dan Kaufman blends reeds, strings, vibraphone and theremin into his frequently haunting, sometimes austere, sometimes frenetic, historically-informed, Old World European-influenced songs. Their previous album, Force of Light, set death-obsessed poems by Romanian-Jewish Holocaust poet Paul Celan to music. They’ve got a new album, Bella Ciao, inspired by the unique sounds of Roman Jewish music and the bravery of the Italian underground against the Nazis in World War II. They’ve also got a show coming up on May 22 at around 10 at Trans-Pecos (the old Silent Barn space), 915 Wykoff Ave. in Ridgewood, L train to Halsey St.; cover is $10.

The new album – recorded and mixed by dark rock maven Martin Bisi – is a suite, a brooding, wounded, cinematic theme and variations. It opens and quickly builds to a propulsive, trickily rhythmic, darkly bustling overture over Peter Lettre’s tightly looping bass and the tumbling drums of Sway Machinery’s John Bollinger (whose echoey, terse clusters throughout this album drive the menace factor through the roof). The second track juxtaposes Peter Hess’ insistent clarinet and Danny Tunick’s vibraphone within a wistful waltz that builds to a gallop and then back.

Kaufman’s creepy tremolo guitar fuels the third track, morphing out of dub-inflected noir ambience to a lushly marching sway that evokes Big Lazy with orchestration. On the following cut, Fiona Templeton narrates an English translation of the Pier Paolo Pasolini poem The Resistance and Its Light over a soaring backdrop to illustrate an angst-ridden hope-against-hope theme. Then she does the same with Alfonso Gatto’s bitter wartime elegy, Anniversary, on Mizmor Leasaf, the eerily reverberating, dirgelike noir piece that’s the high point of the album.

After a brief, austere vocal interlude, Kaufman deftly builds a Twin Peaksian theme out of Lettre’s ominous introductory chromatics on Keter Ittenu, then does the same, building to a frantic punk pulse and then pulling back, on Kamti Beashmoret. The title track, a new arrangement of the famous Italian WWII resistance anthem – sung by Templeton in its original Italian – sets a trickly rhythmic verse up against soaringly waltzing choruses fueled by Catherine McRae’s violin and Pamelia Kurstin’s theremin, then a hypnotically psychedelic interlude. The narrative reaches a peak with Umevi Goel, rising from a brooding violin/clarinet passage to an understated danse macabre, Bollinger’s ominous rumble fueling its many dynamic shifts. -The album ends with a sad, rainy-day violin-and-piano duet, a vivid after-battle scenario. This plaintive, evocative masterpiece might well be the high point of the band’s career; watching them evolve since their begininngs in the late 90s mining a stylized Tom Waits vibe has been a lot of fun. And they’re just as good live as they are on album.

Dana Lyn Plays an Ocean of Melody at the Firehouse Space

[republished from New York Music Daily's older and more sophisticated sister blog Lucid Culture]

Violinist Dana Lyn is as adept at Bach and Celtic dances as she is at searchingly acerbic string music. There’s a lot of the the latter on her latest album Aqualude. The night of 4/20 at the Firehouse Space in Greenpoint, she and her shapeshifting band from that album – Clara Kennedy on cello, Jonathan Goldberger on guitar, Mike McGinnis on clarinet and bass clarinet and Vinnie Sperrazza on drums – aired out some of the spiraling, entrancing pieces on it as well as a number of even more intriguing new compositions. One of those Lyn had just finished earlier in the day, but the group approached it with relish, Kennedy’s stark solo intro giving way to a lively balletesque theme that worked back and forth through all kinds of permutations, Goldberger hinting at skronk against an uneasy wash of strings.

Another began with an elegant eight-note clarinet hook that Lyn and Goldberger used as a springboard for lilting, dancing harmonies. One of Lyn’s main tropes is to loop a phrase and then use that to anchor an intricate interweave of voices. and the band did that often throughout an expansive set that went well over an hour. Lyn also has a fascination with the ocean and its creatures, carefully and wryly explaining how those often very strange beings influence her music. The guardedly explosive centerpiece of the Aqualude album, she said, was inspired by the hairy crabs who frequent the volcanic vents on the seabed. Another piece drew on the plight of the octopus, whose male and female basically go insane and die after they mate (does that remind you of another species?).

Kennedy opened the show with a stark intro that grew into a metrically tricky loop in tandem with the guitar, McGinnis adding counterrythmic staccato accents as Lyn’s violin wafted overhead. Sperrazza – who felt the room’s sonics instantly, keeping his masterfully counterintuitive accents and colors low-key with his brushes and sometimes just his hands – kicked off the next one as loudly as he’d go, with an almost baroque counterpoint from the clarinet and strings.

Along with the web of melodies, there’s a lot of contrast in Lyn’s music, and the band worked those dynamics with a comfortable chemistry: hazy atmospherics versus a kinetic drive, loud/soft and calm/agitated dichotomies, Goldberger hitting his pedals for an unexpected roar or McGinnis leaping from the murk of the bass clarinet to the top of his register. Lyn also counters the pensiveness and gravitas of her music with a surreal sense of humor. It was her birthday, so she supplied paper and pens so that everyone in the crowd could draw a cadavre exquis. Some of the audience came up with intriguing or amusing stuff; from an artistically-challenged point of view, it was impossible to concentrate on drawing for very long because it was such a distraction – and a lot more fun – to watch Lyn’s magical sonic tableaux unfold.

Sontag Shogun’s Elegantly Trippy Atmospherics Evoke Brian Eno

Does Sontag Shogun‘s name imply that they’re weekend warriors? Whatever the case, they have a strangely tuneful, individualistic sound, part piano-based art-rock, part ambient noise. They’re playing the album release show for their new one – most of which is streaming at Soundcloud and Bandcamp – on May 1 at 8 PM at Body Actualized, 143 Troutman St. (between Central and Evergreen; M to Central Ave.) in Bushwick. Cover is $6; there’s also music by Aaron Martin and Living Things plus a listening tent for new site-specific sound pieces by the group members, plus “an interactive scented-installation, popcorn and fortune cookies.” Quite the deal, huh?

The new album’s first two tracks center around Ian Temple’s attractively melodic neoromantic piano, which starts off very minimal in both instances and grows more animated. There are also layers of atmospheric, sustained electronic drones and sampled dialogue, which appears to be random. The fact that much of it isn’t clearly audible adds to the randomness/weirdness factor. Let the Flies in is a pretty much straight-up art-rock song, like a Richard Wright Pink Floyd ballad circa 1970 with hints of Britfolk, trippy keyboard echoes and vocals that allude to Radiohead. The piano eventually enters on the heels of snippets of noise and samples on the next track, Jubokko, then builds to a moody, stately theme that itself gets looped before receding into white noise and a few bubbly effects.

Orbit Insertion references Eno with its NASA sample, simple theme and shifting layers of atmospherics. It segues into Beyond Wind Bey, the most psychedelic of all the pastiches here: it isn’t Revolution 9 but it might qualify as Revolution 2 or 3. The Musk Ox, an icy hymn of sorts, also evokes Eno with its simple, stately resonance. The album’s concluding cut opens with seaside sonics that quickly go off into outer space; once again, the piano eventually joins the mix, carefully and gracefully. It’s interesting stuff: just when you think it’s about to drift off into the ether for good, there’s a surprise to lure you back in.

The Ocular Concern: The Coen Brothers Do Twin Peaks, Sonically Speaking

Noir menace, sometimes distant, sometimes front and center and impossible to turn away from, fuels Portland, Oregon instrumentalists The Ocular Concern’s album Sister Cities (streaming at Bandcamp). The band’s music bears considerable resemblance to guitarist Marc Ribot‘s cinematically unfolding themes as well as multi-clarinetist Ben Goldberg‘s Unfold Ordinary Mind narratives, not to mention Ennio Morricone’s 70s work, especially the Taxi Driver score. The group’s main songwriters are guitarist Dan Duval and keyboardist Andrew Oliver, whose electric piano does double duty as bass in the same vein as what Ray Manzarek did with the Doors but with more restraint. The rest of the group includes Stephen Pancerev on drums, Lee Elderton on clarinet and Nathan Beck on vibraphone and mbira.

Surrealism is in full effect with the opening track, a wintry west African mbira theme for vibraphone, bass and drums, Duval’s loopy electric guitar kicking in to raise the ante. Violinist Erin Furbee, violist Brian Quincey and cellist Justin Kagan join the group on the Sister City Suite, which opens alternating between an uneasy calm and jarring strings, then shifts to a snide faux noir latin ambience that’s pure Bernard Herrmann spun through snarky Ribot downtown cool. Alex Krebs adds washes of bandoneon to the sarcastically blithe second segment, its suspenseful pulse evoking the Get Carter soundtrack, finally hitting a roaring punk jazz stomp where Elderton’s clarinet leaves no doubt that this is where the murder happens. From there they move to a cynical, string-driven cha-cha and then follow a fake tango groove with lushly swooping strings contrasting with more of that menacing Ribot-esque reverb guitar. This may be a Pacific Northwest band, but the sound is pure New York circa 1988.

The band’s eponymous track parses coldly glimmering. wistful pastoral jazz, Elderton using its hypnotic rhythm as a launching pad for a slowly crescendoing solo until the piano and drums push it out of the picture. Lafayette, another wintry mbira groove, sounds like the Claudia Quintet without the busy drums, Eldterton’s trilling and eventually thrilling solo being the highlight. They follow that with The Eclectic Piano, essentially a suspiciously blithe variation on the same theme. The album ends with the warmly consonant, narcotic William S. Burroughs, Let’s Go!, Elderton’s alto sax taking a slowly resonant lead over Oliver’s twinkling. echoing electric piano lines. If the Coen Brothers ever did an episode of Twin Peaks, this would be the soundtrack.

Good Cop and Bad Cop Review LJ Murphy Plus the Byzan-Tones

Good Cop: I think this is our big break. We’ve never been given an assignment this good.

Bad Cop: Back on the Columbus shuttle.

Good Cop: You mean the Scranton shuttle.

Bad Cop: I can’t get used to Scranton being a Yankees farm club. It was part of the Phillies system for as long as I can remember.

Good Cop: Now that’s going back a ways! Anyway, tonight we get to review LJ Murphy, the best rock songwriter in town, and then the Byzan-Tones, an awesome surf band! This is a big deal for us! You notice we’ve been getting better assignments lately?

Bad Cop: If you say so…

Good Cop: Sallie Ford & the Sound Outside, then Red Baraat, and this the best yet! If we don’t screw this one up there’s no telling how far we’ll go! [Good Cop elbows Bad Cop in the ribs]

Bad Cop [winces} Ouch! Don't kid yourself. We haven't had any assignment from this blog, good or bad, since July. We only got to cover that Sallie Ford concert because the blog had reviewed the record a couple of days before. We only got to do Red Baraat because the story wasn't the music, it was that horrible experience in Central Park. So if this blog hadn't reviewed LJ Murphy back in November, we'd still be in Col...I mean, Scranton.

Good Cop: Well, goodbye Scranton. hello Parkside Lounge on a Saturday night! [LJ Murphy,wearing a black suit and porkpie hat and holding a big black acoustic guitar, takes the stage along with his lead guitarist, keyboardist and drummer. With no bass, they launch into a swinging blues]

Bad Cop: I guess this is soundcheck.

Good Cop: I don’t think so. They did the song all the way through. I know this one: it’s Another Lesson I Never Learned.

Bad Cop: Guess they lost their bass player.

Good Cop: Not as far as I know. Nils Sorensen’s also in Brothers Moving, you know, that great Danish Americana band so maybe he had a conflict. And check out Patrick McLellan, he’s playing basslines with his left hand on the piano! At this point they don’t need a bass player…

Bad Cop [emphatically] Oh yes they do. But this guy’s good. Real good. Picked up on what was missing right away and took care of business.

Good Cop: I can’t believe somebody this good is playing the Parkside.

Bad Cop: Classic case of a guy stuck in the New York scene. In this town, you play to your friends. There’s no central scene with any significant following that you can leverage anymore. Here’s a guy who’s as good a songwriter as Richard Thompson, or Steve Earle, or Aimee Mann – and he’s younger than all of them – but he never got to take the band on the road. And he’s a band guy, not a singer-songwriter.

Good Cop: And he’s got a sizeable European following too. Funny how these things happen, isn’t it?

Bad Cop: Sound is not good tonight.

Good Cop: You know the Parkside, it can be good one night and not so good the next.

Bad Cop: It’s the piano. The low mids are feeding. And you can’t hear the electric guitar.

Good Cop: That’s Tommy Hoscheid. Great player. I see he brought his Gibson SG.

Bad Cop: He’s gonna need it.

Good Cop: Oh, I love this song. This is Happy Hour. Anybody who’s suffered through having to hang out with work “friends” in the financial district needs to hear this, it’ll validate you. And I love how LJ has rearranged it as an oldschool Stax/Volt shuffle.

Bad Cop: I liked it better when it was straight up janglerock. At least that’s one thing you can count on with this guy: you never know what you’re gonna get. Always rearranging things. The Faulkner of the three minute rock song. And you notice, he changed the lyric: it used to be “brotherhood of useless warts” instead of “brotherhood of sold and bought.”

Good Cop: That doesn’t rhyme with “one eye on the secretary and the other on the quarterly report.”

Bad Cop: It does if you’re from Queens.

Good Cop: True. “Their daytime dramas wait at home on videocassette,” that’s a really twisted line.

Bad Cop: It wasn’t back when he wrote it. These days you think of a spycam, or a webcam, right? Back then it was like something you Tivoed – except in analog, in real time, and everybody did it, and it actually wasn’t twisted at all. Ha, necessarily, at least. I remember this one time rushing home to record an episode of Survivor for this chick…

Good Cop: I can imagine where you’re going with that. Anyway – check out that creepy cascade from Patrick! This is Mad Within Reason, title track from LJ’s most recent album. “The music was sampled from Bach to James Brown, they saddled the mistress and lowered her down.” Nobody’s writing lyrics like that these days!

Bad Cop: Oh yeah they are. Four words for you: Hannah Versus the Many. But this guy’s good, always has been. “While everybody tried to become what they hate” – and another creepy piano cascade. This is sweet.

Good Cop: This next one’s even sweeter. Pretty for the Parlor – Long Island sniper gone on a spree. What a great tune this is – it’s anthemic, but not derivative or Beatlesque, it’s just good. And full of surprises. “The machinegun mama’s boy has called in sick today,” yum!

Bad Cop: OK, he’s gonna bring it down now. Waiting by the Lamppost for You: a period-perfect blend of sixties soul and blues. “Moonlight delays me, daylight betrays me, I’m hungover and showing my years.” Do you hear Nightclubbing, you know, the Iggy song?

Good Cop: Not unless it’s blasting through the wall from next door. Is that place still a disco?

Bad Cop: We’re at the Parkside, not the Mercury. Nobody next door. Deli across the street.

Good Cop: Oh yeah! Now this drummer’s good. A jazz guy maybe. They’re really rocking out Lonely Avenue – you know, the old Elvis song.

Bad Cop: Doc Pomus wrote it. Orthodox Jewish guy from Brooklyn. Now this is where you lose me, white guys playing the blues.

Good Cop: Aw, c’mon, the audience loves it.

Bad Cop: Once you’ve heard T-Bone Walker do Stormy Monday, all other versions are useless.

Good Cop: T-Bone Walker died before you were born.

Bad Cop: T-Bone Walker actually died when I was in the third grade I think. But I have the album.

Good Cop: This next song is Damaged Goods. What did LJ say, this is the first song he ever wrote in Brooklyn after moving from Queens?

Bad Cop: Guess he must have had the Wall Street job back then. Dungeoness and her crabs, more or less. This guy was on to what Eliot Spitzer and that crew were up to before anybody else was.

Good Cop: Now they’re going back from new wave to noir. This is Fearful Town. Did you hear Patrick quote Riders on the Storm?

Bad Cop [derisively]: Everybody does that. But this is a good song. This is why I came out tonight. Now this speaks to me. This is why I’m here and not someplace else. This guy speaks for anybody who used to live in this neighborhood. “Raided my old hangouts, put away my friends, now I’m sitting on a bonfire on a night that never ends.” LES, 2014, we are with you LJ Murphy!

Good Cop: You’re breaking character. You’re not supposed to do that. You’re supposed to hate everything.

Bad Cop: And you’re breaking the fourth wall. You’re not supposed to do that. What am I supposed to do? I complained about the sound. The blues medley left me cold. But I like this guy. Despite myself. Even this one. This next song is Nowhere Now. Sort of a twisted Chuck Berry kind of thing. I can’t figure it out for the life of me. Maybe it’s about America, all that “200 years of hoping, you’re not hoping anymore” stuff. What do you think?

Good Cop: That’s what I love about LJ’s songs, they draw you in and make you figure out what’s going on. Now this one’s easy, Blue Silence – they’re going to rock the hell out of this.

Bad Cop: And they do. And then they close with Barbed Wire Playpen, another Wall Street dungeoness crab scenario.

Good Cop: Ha ha funny.

Bad Cop: Couldn’t resist. And now we’re off to Otto’s.

Good Cop [about ten minutes later, at Otto's Shrunken Head]: Holy shit, this place is packed. I haven’t seen Otto’s like this, maybe, ever.

Bad Cop: And we didn’t even get carded walking in.

Good Cop [laughs]: Nobody would ever card you.

Bad Cop: The doofus at the door, the skinhead, once chased me to the back and screamed at me until I showed him my I.D. This is recent, like, last year.

Good Cop: You can’t be serious.

Bad Cop: I’m completely serious. A guy at the bar saw the whole exchange, he came up to me afterward and said he couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed.

Good Cop: I can’t either. But we’re here. And this band is great! What a cool doublebill it’s been, two venues, two great bands. That’s George Sempepos on lead guitar, I can’t see who’s playing bass or drums, and that’s Steve Antonakos on guitar too.

Bad Cop: They used to have an electric oud. Now that was wild. Psychedelic Greek surf music. I remember coming back from seeing them at the Blu Lounge in Williamsburg, this must have been around 2003 or so, completely shitfaced, this is at about four in the morning and I’m waiting forever at 14th Street for the F and I’d recorded the show so I pulled out my recorder and started blasting the Byzan-tones right there on the platform. And everybody was down with it.

Good Cop: You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested.

Bad Cop: Nobody arrests me!

Good Cop: OK. Now I can’t keep track of whether these songs are originals, or they’re psychedelic rock hits from Greece in the 1960s.

Bad Cop: My understanding is that they’re originals. But they sound like old Mediterranean stoner music. Except with more of a surf beat. Now this version of the band is a little brighter and a lot tighter than I remember them being.

Good Cop: And look, the crowd is really into this! This is music from a culture that doesn’t even use our alphabet and peeps are loving this! And the place is so packed that we can’t even get into the back room!

Bad Cop: Hold your fire. We would be able to if this was Lakeside. Oh yeah, Lakeside is gone now. But you get my point. And besides, it’s surf night, half the crowd came from Connecticut, they’re not going to leave for awhile. Captive audience. What every band needs in this century in this town.

Good Cop: Lots of Arabic sounds in this band. And minor keys, and tricky tempos. I can’t figure out what this one is in.

Bad Cop: Me neither. I’ve been drinking since before I left for the Parkside. Sorry.

Good Cop: Now this song is called Pontic Pipeline. Doesn’t sound like Pipeline, though.

Bad Cop: I think the reference is a little…um…what’s the word I want? Oblique? How does that sound ?

Good Cop: Sounds like Arabic rock to me. I love this band, and how the two guitars sometimes harmonize…and how Steve fakes how he’s playing with a slide even though he’s just bending the strings…and now George is singing. In a low, cool baritone, in Greek! What’s the likelihood of seeing something like this outside of Astoria?

Bad Cop: Or outside of Athens.

Good Cop: Point taken. OK, time to go. What a cool night this was! I can’t wait to do this again!

Bad Cop [pulls a flask from inside his trenchcoat and drains it]: OK, see you in July. Or in Col…I mean Scranton.

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