Tales from the Attic
Volume III – side b (play extra loud)
Revolutions of a 45 kind…..
The flip side to this specially extended edition of tales from the attic, no special reason for it being overly long or indeed delayed, well there are and there aren’t reasons, you see if truth be told I hate letting these little babies go, it’s a bind letting them out into the cruel wide open world – I do fear for them. Truer still is the fact that when doing reviews we are constantly flitting between records and cd’s, downloads emailed here and bands recommended to us – so with that our attentions are always being pulled hither and thither – our kitchen and various work surfaces throughout our gaff are littered with post it notes upon which scribbled reminders written in ones fair hand bookmark things to do, read, listen to – alas they are so badly scrawled that they are rendered ineligible by which by the time we’ve managed to decipher them we’ve already jotted down and stuck up another three equally unreadable notes. All this whilst surviving purely on a diet of black coffee and cigarettes all of which we jot notes to ourselves to remind ourselves to partake in when we remember that is to have a break – don’t talk to us about belt tightening austerity measures as we’ve ran out of belt holes to tighten. So armed with this information you’d rightly imagine deadlines are a bit of a bind here, many reviews are started, forgotten, resumed, forgotten again and eventually completed. If I was to gather all the works in progress currently lurking on the PC at the moment in various states of completion – some I’m ashamed and embarrassed to admit dating back as long ago as last year – we’d have another batch of at least 8 or equally sized missives to publish .. Now where’s that post it note that says its time for coffee and a quick drag…..
And onward to this particular missives listening commendations….
Out shortly via the god is in the tv imprint is the new EP from Edinburgh based ‘dark cello noise niks’ Letters. We must admit to be mildly smitten by this possessed as it is with that grand panoramic souring that often engages the grooves of records bearing the name Swimmer One stamped upon their hides, that said add in some Birdpen and a healthy dollop of iliketrains with a smidgeon of Shady Bard for flavouring and you have yourself an emotionally epic stirring and statuesque nugget of becoming tear stained dark beauty.
Moving picture goes something like this…..
Something else recently found catching our attention is the latest listening platter from London based electro pop songstress Lettie. Entitled ’good fortune, bad weather’ we’ve just gotten hold of a download copy of this sweetly affectionate gem which will no doubt – no disrespect to Lettie – get overlooked or lost in the coming days – hence the reason why we’ve post it noted all over the laptop to remind us to check back in for further listening pleasure. Anyhow we’ve taken a peak or three at a small selection of cuts from said set and whilst much admiring of ‘lucky’ with its dippy and delirious lo-fi electro music hall kookiness shaped in the likeness of Serafina Steer by way of Mary Hopkins and Plum with a dash of Ray Davies artistry its ‘sanctuary’ that’s proving in the initial listens to be the cause of much heart skipping not least because its caressed in the kind of sublimely shorn sophisticat electro pop that treads in the footprints of the knife albeit as though curdled and charmed by the pop velour of bats for lashes. Bit of a beauty if you ask me.
And did we just mention Serafina Steer in passing – once of Static Caravan these days via Stolen Recordings it seems Ms Steer has recently broke silence by posting up a bedroom recorded demo on the sly. Entitled ’ride out’ it’s a brief affair – how brief – sub two minute brief that’s how brief – typically enchanting and ethereal all longingly trimmed in dreamy flotillas of harp shimmers and framed in a magical apparition like folk majesty. http://soundcloud.com/stolenrecordings/serafina-ride-out
Proving something of a hit amongst the knowing Manchester underground cognoscenti, Swiss Lips are to shortly release the insanely infectious Balearic bomb that is ’Danz’ – framed inside a sub four minute bubble this dance floor damaging darling is kissed with the kind of sugar rushed uber disco-dinked exuberance that sparks the synapses into firing electro shocks leaving you uncontrollably at the mercy of your tapping toes, shimmying hips and frenzied glitter ball struts which roughly translated means it locates itself on the meeting point where New Order, the Other Two and Monaco collide with the resulting sonic shrapnel force fed through a Spiller on steroids melodic mincing machine. Special mention for the video which appears to feature some Galdalfian dude transmogrified with Shameless’ Frank Gallagher……
Staying in Manchester for a little longer for something rather special. Regulars acquaintances to these rambles will be all too aware of our affection for duo No Ceremony who after limited singles – ‘hurt / love’ and the recently released ‘heartbreaker’ have had us all in a swoon, embraced with a piercing lovelorn aura to their artistry their ethereal cast fragile frost tipped follies enchant and beguile with equal tender measure – anyhow to save us ranting on endlessly you can rewind to earlier commentaries via http://www.losingtoday.com/tales.php?id=375 and http://www.losingtoday.com/tales.php?id=387 as well as here
http://houndsofhulme.bandcamp.com/track/hurtlovedandlost – next up for No Ceremony is the small matter of a tour details of which you’ll find via http://noceremony.com/ – for now though a few choice audio selections to keep you suitably seduced the first of which sees them collaborating with fellow Mancunians Stay+. The celestial ‘Eyes’ is typical NC fayre – radiating pulsars, tripping down tempo electro beats and hypno rhythms – all very sophisticated the murmuring motifs hushed to the ether dripped angelic tones of Elizabeth Fraser-esque vocals and the drifting essences of ‘hurt / love’ apparitions – utterly stately, statuesque and majestic – becoming a bit of a trademark characteristic now. Not quite done just yet – hop over to http://soundcloud.com/cpragency where you’ll be treated to three further mixes – the first featuring Zulu Winter’s ‘silver tongue’ as re-phrased by No Ceremony who endow proceedings with an expansive and demurring chilled torch dub treatment that’s best adored under the quietly suggestive glow of lowered lights. Elsewhere ’breezeblocks’ sees NC in a face off with Alt-J – again panoramic and silently mercurial and tapping into the quiet grandeur of Seal while ’breaking hearts’ finds the duo re-drilling the current ’heartbreaker’ platter into something mind morphing and fuzzlorn as it splices the DNA’s of a late 90’s Primal Scream with the Lover Speaks. Quite frankly enough said – safe to say all over you like a rash.
And so to the much promised Game Theory cassette, originally issued on Record Store Day and limited to just 100 numbered copies, this release event marked a collaboration between the payper tiger imprint and local scenester fanzine Bido Lito. A gathering of 15 tracks featuring the very best talent currently bubbling below the Mersey delta surface. Inside the cassette you’ll find download codes allowing you to grab yourself a digital version – alas something we are still having trouble acquiring – along with a £5 voucher enabling you to exchange for goods acquired at Liverpool’s three record emporiums Probe, 3beat and the lesser catchily named Music Consortium Vinyl Emporium formerly the readier more hipper sounding Hairy records. So in effect the cassette costs a paltry £2 – which should you have handy about your person we strongly suggest you exchange for because this compilation is perhaps the best of its kind to emerge from out of the City since that classic ’a secret Liverpool’ set from the mid 80’s. the collection opens to the tempting tremble of Kankouran’s ‘rivers’ – a gorgeously rush of emotional sapping shoe gazed rock-a-hula trimmed with a gloriously tear swept panoramic sheen that glides to soar with wings scorched reflective majesty. If one track throughout the set has dug deep into our affections its outfit’s off centred beauty ‘every night I dress as you’ – an unlikely slice of prickly pop that’s not your usual verse chorus verse fayre and cuts the kind of shadow playing majestic glamour that courted the Associates ‘sulk’ albeit as though sumptuously sedated by the mercurial hand of Swimmer One with a side serving of a youthful pre hit making Space. Equally addictive is the tsar bombs whose ‘ghosts’ has something of Rialto about its wares lushly beset as it is by a haunting wide screened under sway of 60’s styled murder balladeering whilst cast with the same kind of wistfully wasted crookedness as subdued Radiohead releases of the late 90’s. Mugstar of course should need no introductory fanfares here, boasting a new full length – see elsewhere in this extended missive for details – this cut – ’sierra’ be its name is culled from their ’lime’ set for important though this version is pulled from a Bido Lito pod cast – a mind morphing slab of psychotropic kraut cruised grind that draws the dots between cosmic overlords hawkwind and the floyd. Last seen here sporting a mighty fine 10 inch set entitled ‘ladies night’ to celebrate last years RSD Clinic drop by with the curious case of ’the warmth of the sun’ which aside being softly mellowed in hallucinogenic arcs is tripped with all manner of reverse loops and Donovan -esque ’hurdy gurdy man’ wonkiness and sounds to these ears as though recorded to tape and left to bask in a blazing west coast sun and ultimately warp. Hands up who remembers Pavement and Garlic, those who do may do well to check out Vasco da Gama’s wonderfully skewed ’them teeth’ which trimmed to a slacker-esque glazing kind of hobbles seductively along teetering a path once pledged upon by the criminally overlooked Jumbo in their sun shine dizzy psyche ’c.b. mamas’ era. The loud stump up ’he’s killed a swan’ which after several listens really begins to connect, this un sounding like a lo-fi’d at the end of a heavy nights drinking sessions bluesy and ballsy bastard off spring of the snarling and slurring cast. Currently sitting on the flip side of their currently available debuting pop platter Wild Eyes ‘hit me like I’m stoned’ mentioned in greater detail elsewhere here – in short ‘too much’ is the sexiest things on planet pop right now. Nuff said. Absolutely smitten by Death at Sea’s ’selfless’ which we’ll mention briefly only because we made particular fuss of it last missive out – drop dead f*** you cool that sounds like a potently acute pre pop dandying Boo Radleys. Another ensemble who’ve caught our ear of late are the impossible to pigeon hole All We Are whose ’sooner or later’ is a strangely becoming gem that courts the off set rhythmic worlds of the talking heads whilst dipping its toes in waters more commonly navigated by the Animal Collective to brew up something crookedly skewed and decidedly funky and flighty whilst cleverly managing to exact all this without actually parodying the bands themselves. Must admit to never having heard to come across Forest Swords previously though if ‘hjurt’ is indicative of what they excel at then you can bet your backside we’ll be setting out a watchful eye on future recordings, some nifty desert dried Morricone meets Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet twanging going on here and just when you think you’ve the measure of the bugger it morphes seductive into a purring darkly dappled torch tripped lovely with Portishead and Sneaker Pimps pretensions. Drop dead gorgeous – what can we say -Stealing Sheep’s ’Genevieve’ is a woozy hip shaking sassy sort tickled with a frisky 60’s beat groove and smouldered chicly to an airy soft psych shimmy that swoons to the embrace of free design and wendy and bonnie as though re-threaded by the Strawberry Switchblade. ‘lost and looking’ by Owls is smouldered in the kind of jaw dropping time stands still grandeur that occasionally kissed the kind of platters with the name flaming stars tattooed to its backside, this cutely acute love note stressed with an aching heart string tugging 60’s velour tripped with the delicate opine of sorrowing reverbs is scored and scarred with the spectre of the Walker Brothers and Orbison. Ah - Beach Skulls – absolutely no info on these surfadelic dudes, that said we’ve just located their website which is packed to rafters with all manner of sound samples all of which will be closely inspected in time for the next missive, by the looks of things they’ve also been responsible for knocking out a shed load of limited run cassette releases which buggering hell we now need to locate for fear of prolonged sleepless nights. Anyhow here they drop off ‘the Brooklyn jive’ to the party, seems these dudes are very much tuned into listening environ that shares its speaker space between Suicide or more pertinently the revolutionary corps of teenage Jesus and a primitive sounding b-movie spectral Bauhaus dashed with side servings of Link Wray, the gun club and Gallon Drunk for good measure for this psychotropic nugget cools with a penetrating darkly set brooding aura kissed with the menacing rattle and rumble of twisted twangs. Expect more mentions in future missives. Matters are brought to a close by the sublime chamber toned ‘the flowers’ by ex Coral lead guitarist Bill Ryder Jones, in short exquisite, think we’re a little light on at least two solo albums we’ve managed to spot both of which we’ll be scouring record racks to acquire. For now though this slice of harrowing fractured beauty, to the delicate dimpling of the merest of piano braids and the sigh of sorrowful strings this beauty soon unfurls in the most arresting way much like some lost suite from Nyman’s ’the draughtsman’s contract’ score in so much as it radiates between winter and spring tipped timbres with the occasional appearance of the floral corteges endowing it with a bittersweet crush of exuberance and seduction much recalling the early work of Sakamoto. Frankly you need this compilation.
Appearing soon via the much admired Fat Cat imprint will be the latest platter from the highly recommended Odonis Odonis. Not officially out for a month or three – July in fact – Fat Cat’s 100th single release is marked by a teaser trailer heralding the September slated second full length from Odonis Odonis entitled ‘soft boiled hard boiled’. now we don’t mind admitting that we’ve got something of a soft spot for these dudes given that their debuting ‘hollandaze’ set was by our humbled reckoning one of the finest outings of last year. Already sporting a new single courtesy of the currently aired and available ‘busted lip’ incidentally culled from said debuting set. As said not out for a while ‘are we friends’ is described by the attending press release as a New Order / ministry mash up of sorts which okay we can agree and see where they are coming from but having listened to it myself we’re more of the mind that this is essential a sub three minute skull sculpturing aural autopsy of a ’follow the leaders’ era Killing Joke being retooled and cross cultured by Brilliant into a molten brew of austerely equipped psychosis peeling post punk abrupt and in your face agitant grind which as you’d imagine does it for us.
Its not every day that we receive a CD accompanied by an empty roses chocolate wrapper (the orange flavoured one in case your asking – personally I prefer the hazelnut ones), 4 pence (which I’m assuming is the bribe for the review – paltry it should be said but at least 4pence more than we ever got from losing today) and a little handwritten note saying hello and showing a comedy pre school drawing of a willy as in dick, penis, John Thomas, Johnson etc….which I’m afraid to say is either ejaculating or in reverse motion. More perturbing I can assure you to the extent that I’m still undecided as to whether to feel flattered or made a fool of. Granted under normal circumstances we could dismiss said CD with a candid f*** you, just ignore it and feed it to the waste bin or simply choose not to rise to the bait play the blighter and see if the bugger warranted kind words. The disc in question you may well be asking is the debuting single entitled ‘found my way’ from Swede combo Random Sound. Culled from their forthcoming full length ’the world as we know it’ – due for record store counter action this coming summer – ’found my way’ is your radio friendly easy on the ear softly stirring pop sortie which ought to find safe haven and admiring glances from those whose record collections yearn and tick to the chart threatening swoon of a certain Ronan Keating, all quietly measured and factored with a lush feel good vibe which emerging from a slow burning sweeping and stirring core should see it on repeat play lists on drive time transmission schedules all the time clipped with the kind of panoramic glow that you’d rightly imagine would befit some back-dropping video of some skyward soaring montage.
Alas we have neither promos nor sound clips for this particular release – which it should be said has left us a little – shall we say – a grumbling and a grimacing – that said couldn’t let this go – for one of our favourite TV theme soundtracks of recent years is being made available shortly. Clever and thoughtful although a little predictable with its story lines, under the stir-manship of Gatiss and Moffat, Cumberbatch and Freeman have wrestled and rescued the iconic Holmes and Watson roles as their own as part of the BBC’s flagship drama Sherlock, much like Smith’s portrayal of Dr Who (rescuing it from the Tennant ego) the series – recently completing its second season it has proven something of a revelation wiring as it does succinctly into the psyche of its author by rephrasing classic stories and reshaping and re-evaluating them to a modern day setting all cleverly refitted and re-spoked with current day idioms. All this would not quite have the same effect where it not wrapped by the under-pinning sumptuous score provided by David Arnold and Michael Price – whilst keeping with that sense of the enigmatic and the goth-ique, the second season counters a readily more brooding aspect, the symphonics are classically honed in equal turns to an artistry pierced by both the sparse / dark and the brooding and introspective, much here ought by rights to appeal to admirers of John Barry not least the hollowing Budd-esque phrasing within ’grimm fairy tales’ while ’the woman’ is elegantly aglow in contemplation, deep thought and betraying romance – somewhere else Brontean rushes speckle the foreboding disquiet of ’smoke alarm’ – we will try and beg, borrow or perchance steal a copy for fuller appreciation in due course…..
Over at mix cloud world Jim Jupp unveils programme 9 of his occasional Radio Belbury transmissions – this one going under the title ‘the minstrel’s wheel’ – all manner of ghost box related out there kookiness and weirdness afoot here ranging from the prog grooves from Greenslade, vintage radiophonic rumbles from the Advisory Circle, some classic children’s TV theme fayre in the guise of Lasry Baschet’s ’manege’ plus oodles of strangeness from the likes of Suzanne Ciani, the high llamas, gruff rhys and matmos.
There’s been something of a hive of activity at the My Bloody Valentine sound bunker, alas no new recordings as yet though its been mooted by Mr Shields in various press reports that something new will appear in the next 12 months – though on previous history we suggest you don’t hold your breath just yet. That said there will shortly be the emergence of all the original albums re-mastered and additionally resourced from their original analogue tapes along with a set gathering together all the bands EP’s alongside some previously unreleased cuts from the archive – both versions of ‘loveless’ are currently being streamed for your listening consideration via the Guardian’s online music blog which you can access here – http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/musicblog/2012/may/01/my-bloody-valentine-loveless-stream?fb=native
And staying with the Guardian though on this occasion not the newspaper but a rather fine outing from the Alrealon stable featuring….
A John 3:16 / Fluid collaboration – just seamless eh – and there’s you lot thinking we just randomly stick these things together and hope for the best, takes time, care and attention to detail I’ll have you know. Phil Alrealon has recently mailed us to say that a selection of goodies are slowly making their way to the Attic for future appraisal – these we understand – will include the PAS debut along with Fluid’s and the John 3:16 full lengths with hopefully the latest Philippe Petit to follow. For now though John 3:16 stirs up some trippy transcendentalism with label sparring partner Fluid. ‘Guardian’ arrives available as a download only set, released as something of an accompanying meeting point to the duo’s much loved here split 12 inch set – a review of which you’ll find tailing this mention. A monolithic 6 minute plus slab of desert dust drilled drone delirium is on offer for all who partake, all at once hulking and panoramic and yet lulling and hypnotic ’guardian’ is blessed with the genteel ebb and flow of mind wiring looping riffmanship, an almost regal magisterial aura exudes from within as its spellbinding charms burrow deep with seductive sultriness casting psychotropic shimmers across the would be sun bleached arabesque ambient landscapes. Essential listening. Are we allowed to publicise the link – http://soundcloud.com/john316john/guardian-exclusive – too late.
http://alrealonmusique.bandcamp.com/album/the-pursuit-of-salvation-alrn024-alrn-vl001 – more apologies due – this time to the alrealon imprint who since we moved we appear to have grossly neglected. Must admit been meaning to get to this link for a while now but with one thing or another attempts have either been derailed, forgotten or foolishly side stepped. Alrealon’s first tentative steps into vinyl world comes courtesy of a stonking heavy duty 12 inch wax split between label old guards Fluid and John 3:16 both of whom should need no introductions to long time subscribers of these pages. The set limited to just 300 copies and no doubt probably all long since sold out arrives replete with signed poster artwork and comprises of 5 cuts three for the former mentioned and two from the latter. Chicago’s Fluid opens his account with the fearfully tear stained and head bowed ‘Angels Pt II’, set in a lush widescreen aspect this bruised beauty forlornly keeps to the shadows licking its wounds, hurt and hollowed it orbits a lonesome almost hymnal star lit trajectory all the time opining and solemnly seducing all in swirling cascades of celestial set prog ambience all metered in a touching tide of ache and regret. Applying his now trademark mutant mix of darkening industrial ambient hip hop and fusing it with doom dipped dubtronic pulsars there’s an ominous almost dread sense of final closure attaching to ’plague’ the telling epitaph fugues hollow out a warring warning indicating something past expiry and without salvage or saviour that self same sense of futility carries with consequence to the parting apocalyptic ‘forewarning’ wherein amid the chilling dust riddled glitch grizzled aftermath Fluid musters up his artistry to wire up a deeply alluring micromatic mirage made up of equal measures Wagon Christ, Depth Charge and early career Roni Size. By stark contrast John 3:16 offers the more uplifting antidote to the apocalyptic travails of Fluid’s aural account, ‘God is light’ despite being initially stricken in hollowed dub dimpled halos soon unfurls and emerges from the trip wired haze resplendent in cloud parting radiant showering triumphant fanfares of Roy Montgomery like strum murmurs and shimmer toned dronal shimmies. All said we here are a mite fond of ’towards the red sea’ cradled as it is in an affecting slickly frosted panoramic majesty, an oceanic monolith pressed to an insular framing and braided with an reverential aura pared to a fusing of hypnotic rhythmic pulses all detached and desolate and clipped with an end of days eerie elegance framed amid monastic chorus’ trims and the unerring gnaw of a hope resigned.
Now we will be issuing abrupt emails in the hope of securing this as our own for now though we’ll and you’ll have to make do with the video which is weirdly cute in a vision on in acid fry out shock drama type thing. No strangers around these here parts Stealing Sheep’s ‘the mountain dog’ via the red deer club imprint was a much adored platter on its arrival – our fondness for it can be found somewhere here if you don’t believe me http://www.losingtoday.com/tales.php?id=355 – these days signed to heavenly and currently wrapping up the finer details of what will be their summer scheduled for release debut full length platter, the ex LIPA graduates serve up a teaser for the anticipated album in the guise of ’shut eye’ – absolutely gorgeous this, ticks all the boxes and in short is totally irresistible, to describe it in brief is to imagine a floral folk union of Circulus and Smoke Fairies types re-branding Fleetwood Mac’s ’tusk’ in a Summerisle mayday stylee with Tunng at the head of the parade doing a kind of celebratory pied piper jig, utterly magical and trip wired in all manner timelessly trimmed enchantment and traced to a becoming strange seduction. All said it edges it just in the single of the missive stakes.
Moving picture animation by Rivkah Gevinson can be located right here -
And sticking with the Wicker Man theme another well heeled stylus hugging gem from the esteemed Static Caravan HQ. This honey comes pressed up on green vinyl replete with inserts / stickers and Ben Javens artwork limited to just 300 copies and features both Woodbine and the Ivy Band and Sproatly Smith sharing the groove space and indelibly furnishing your listening space with their interpretations of ’gently Johnny’. some forty years after its debut viewing ’the Wicker Man’ still exerts a haunting and yet magical hold over the British psyche both in terms of its filmic and musical merits. Visually its stark portrayal of pagan folklore wantonly alive in modern day was as horrific a bite of realism to audiences as any notion that in the midst of their neighbourhood a serial killer did dwell. But would the effect have been as menacing where it not for the soundtrack that back dropped the events unfolding on the screen tapped deep into our own ancestral folklore, Magnet headed up by the late Paul Giovanni picked and sorted their way through an archaic songbook buried in symbolism to provide a mix of traditional fayre and self penned cuts rhymed in the spirit of those timeless passages, these straying fancies some dating back to medieval times traced a heritage of nursery rhymes, bawdy tavern turns and village ritualism. One such cut from the films soundtrack that dates back to medieval times though not penned by Robert Burns as was erroneously thought is ‘gently Johnny’ – erotic, explicit and laden in lust, here rephrased by two of the finest purveyors of traditional folk around on the scene at present. Typical of these things we’ve somehow managed to mislay the accompanying press release which no doubt would have fanfared in great detail all the fab happenings in the camps of our two hosts – alas we can’t regale such though I’m certain there was mention of a self titled full length of traditional treatments already under the collective belts of Woodbine and Ivy Band to be had via the folk police recording imprint. As to their version a stirring gem it should be said that goes someway to removing the crude eroticism of the original and in its place casts something of quietly beguiling politeness to proceedings that’s detailed by a more than seductive glow much like a temptation riddled love note rather than an offer it up on the plate type advance. As to Sproatly Smith, authors of some of the finest releases to fall out of the reverb worship stable and latterly ensconced to the folk police imprint on which their current opus ‘the minstrel’s grave’ currently resides, they take ’gently Johnny’ down a readily more darkening path, much versed in the spirit of the soundtrack version and making use of snatched samples from the film, the sproatly’s exact a haunting almost unsettling macabre detachment to their crafted bewitchment.
And swiftly returning back to Liverpool related releases, Stealing Sheep’s by a hair’s breath award of the coveted single of the missive nudged just slightly ahead of this the debut outing from All We Are who’ve already graced the spaces of this particular missive following their appearance on that must have game theory compilation cassette. ’all we are’ EP via payper tiger marks their official debut outing and gathers together four irresistible treats. Admittedly something of a slow burner though there’s enough here on first listens to have you suitably a swooning and reaching for the repeat button as you find yourself drawn delicately into their harmonically homely world. Reminiscent of a youthful Tunng in their ‘mother’s daughter and other songs’ era, all we are’s aural alchemy is drawn upon a demurring spell craft that tweaks subtly at a vintage folk canon much celebrated by the likes of Men An Tol and Erland and the Carnival which as you’ve probably rightly gathered cut their teeth on the esteemed Static Caravan imprint and weaves to that core artistry a peculiar tapestry that sonically sounds like no one else around at the moment. Case in point the set opener – the mellowing greeting of ‘trainspotting’ snakes longingly to a strange ethereal path decoded in a quietly measured temptation while similarly affected ‘cardhouse’ shimmers delicately to a distantly forged smoked Americana lineage and triumphantly radiates and unfurls the rush that breaks cover at the 2.50 mark leaves you surrendering to its off set charms. All said it the brace of cuts located at the tail end of this set that had us all a swoon, ’red sky’ arrives nimbly trimmed to a divinely airy wood crafted folly that shyly plays peek-a-boo much like an adoring Lisa O Piu engaged in some Wiccan spell weaving while those much in love and remembering well the frankly gorgeous Musseta’s ‘mice to meet you’ will find yourselves similarly arrested by the parting ‘satellite’ – a beautifully smoked slice of sophistication that freewheels seductively upon an aural axis that has Krzysztof Komeda at one end and some would be lost on the cutting room floor David Lynch soundtrack at the other. In short mesmerising and seemingly spun in elegiac enchantment whilst silkily twisted in unfailing romance as though tendered by a readily more bruised and cowered Shortwave Set sailing upon dream drifting sea faring pastures – has to be heard, cherished and adored to be believed.
And back with Static Caravan, many thanks to Geoff Static for sending out a finished copy of the new Jess Roberts platter wherein she does a devastating cover of Koko Taylor’s ’voodoo woman’ which as it happens we mentioned last missive out at http://www.godisinthetvzine.co.uk/2012/05/09/tales-from-the-attic-volume-ii-revolutions-of-a-45-kind/ – there’s only 300 of these babies which arrive adorned in an eye catching textured sleeve containing said platter set upon seven inches of white wax. Last time out when we mentioned this we only had a one track promo to go on which might have proven something of an injustice given that we wouldn’t have had the chance to mention the stone cold drop dead gorgeous nugget sitting on the flip side. ‘blue afternoon’ is a crushing classic in the making, such soul and a stricken sense of sorrow you’ll be pushed hard to find outside Etta James’ ‘I’d rather go blind’ – old school blues applied with such acute heart ripping solitude that tears literally bleed from the grooves. Utterly essential.
And by way of a Static Caravan update the previously mentioned Woodbine and the Ivy Band / Sproatly Smith split 7 inch is down to its last copies from source and is expected to sell out of pre sales alone while next up on the static roster is a by all accounts killer 10 inch from David A Jaycock which we here are itching to here given his last couple for blackest rainbow had us all in a listening lather – which as it happens for those of you with lazyitis can be located here http://www.losingtoday.com/tales.php?id=368
Silk Winders ‘songs for the night’ via treetops records, long admired around these here parts, Les King has been something of a regular fixture within these missive not least in part due to his band Uncle Black who now sadly appear to be on a permanent sabbatical and the Holly and the Katie Winter – the Holly in question being a certain Holly Burton – who together channel an amazing knack for picking through an imaginary Will Oldham songbook and retracing it into something more becoming of Nancy Wallace herself part of the Owl Service’s extended family – whatever happened to them – will check in due course. Taking a little time out from the Katie Winter, Mr King has seen fit to cast his net in search of other collaborators and much like the file sharing and swapping recording processes adopted for his sessions with Holly Burton he found and contacted Andrea Webster of our missing cat fame (again someone else of whom we fondly recall having tracked via a selection of my space cuts – never did get that promised album alas). Anyhow after much online chat the pair finally met last summer and four tracks were hatched, recorded and set to disc – the hitherto debuting ’songs for the night’ EP – and absolutely gorgeous they are to. Much in the same vein as his Katie Winter work King accords with Webster a delightfully sparse and spectral detail to their craftsmanship, from the delicately spun in honey dew opener ’paper boats’ the set is spared with an affecting reflective glaze that’s all at once kindled with a thoughtful introspective homely glow that dips between solitary romanticism and aching withdrawal. ’with my own eyes’ soothingly canters and bobs a demurring drift wind that tail gates along a harmonically sweet Gallic wishfulness that wouldn’t look to out of place on the spit and polish imprint as it waltzes to a sun yawning fade with its beautified lilting rustic Americana waltz courting a mellowed and more optimistic Red House Painters along the way. Utterly touching is the divinely sedate love note ‘salvation’ – quietly grand and wistfully trance like this honey comes wrapped longingly in hymnal keys ushered in in all manner of boy / girl porch traced exchanges while wrapping up the collection ‘song for the night’ originally written by Siki Dlanga is cast to a becoming pastoral lull to which admirers of Richard Thompson et al would do well to note on their watch list. Exquisite if you ask me.
As ever thanks for tuning in. Next time out a ‘revolutions of a 33 kind’ special gathering together a selection of full length recordings that have spanked or stereogram in recent weeks and after that more of this which will feature a few trenSmat lovelies – thanks to Stephen for sending over, future sequence, porcelain raft, mechanik, fast years – which in truth needs to be heard – so you‘ve now no excuse in tracking down the blighter and seeing if we aren‘t wrong, sleepy turtles, xui xui and loads of other ear candy gubbins…..
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Take good care of yourselves,
Volume III completed.
Next Volume due to engage approximately – May 23, 2012.