Source of Yellow

When you live in an area with a high concentration of art school graduates, trust funders and other assorted blights on society, everyone you know is in a band. On any given night a friend of a friend of someone's aunt or coke dealer has a gig happening and "you should totally come out." Needless to say, the majority of music being made here in the quaint borough of Brooklyn that manages to gain any exposure west of the river is generally either cleverly disguised pop garbage or the tepid work of post-punk grave robbers. Thankfully, among the desecrated ruins of a once thriving artisitic community,there remains bands of sonic warriors who toil in the terrible shadows of the blue blooded condominiums and under the radar of an increasingly homogenized rock club scene.

Source of Yellow; a Brooklyn trio consisting of bass, drums, sax, and a pletheora of electronics and assorted sound generators are a true beacon of light in the seemingly eternal talentless night that has fallen on the NYC music scene. Combining metronomically precise krautboogie ur-rhythms with walls of textured electronics and sparse inventive sax playing Source of Yellow play music that would have been right at home on both the Brain and ESP-Disk record labels. They are indebted to the great innovators of free music's past without cannibalizing them, blazing a new direction away from the necrophillic tendencies of modern music. They are finishing up an incredible full-length and have given me their blessing to share with you their entire performance at Matchless Bar in Greenpoint from 2009-08-17.

Source of Yellow live at Matchless 2009-08-17

Ajilvsga - Behind the Masked Spirit (jktapes, 2008)

I've recently begun poking around, looking for good black metal. Though there have been a few things that I was into, I quickly realized that the darkness I've been seeking could be found more easily in noise and without the terribly slick production or the operatic stylings of some make-up clad clown from suburbia. I've often used noise as a dulling agent, a curtain to block the light and to keep the ghosts of all pasts at bay. Noise music, at its best, simply won't allow for the attachment of nostalgia or anecdotal recall. Noise exists solely in the province of the moment. Brad Rose and Nathaniel Young's Ajilvsga project has, over the course of numerous tapes and cdrs, created some of the most compelling black hole music ever. Ajilvsga's emissions adhere to the basic tenets of the low-end drone with plenty of mid and upper register synth/guitar action that resonate like some unholy clarion call through the cosmos. Unlike so much dreck being produced in the noise/drone axis these days, Ajilvsga produce dramatic music that never feels contrived or unnatural. This is space music, complete with the sounds of exploding suns, planetary decay and universes colliding.

Ajilvsga - Behind the Masked Spirit CS40 (jktapes, 2008)

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Supernova

Puffy Areolas - Final High (? CS20,2009?)

These dudes rolled through town a few months back and I had the good fortune of seeing them play Cake Shop the evening of Plastic Crimewave's Guitarkestra project(which ruled). Psyched about their majestic moniker and thirsting for some new sound I checked out their myspace page a few days before the show and was treated to some blown out brown-acid type freakouts which provided ample excuse for making it to the gig on time. My memory fails as to whether they were a four or five piece that night, but they definitely had one guitar, a bass, drums, and a singer. For some reason when I see a band with a "lead" singer(not playing any instrument) my palms get sweaty and my mind flashes on terrible Aerosmith-ish flights of cockrock. Of course there are exceptions to the lead singer cringe rule with Rob Tyner and Iggy being the most fitting examples. Well, basically the line-up looked a little thin to create the kind of warped psych dirges that were represented on their myspace page. And true enough, the ensuing set consisted of short blasts of psych-punk fury that can only be brewed in the basement cauldrons of the mid-west. A solid rhythm section kept a feverish pulse while the guitarist alternated between scorched earth riffing and paint peeling leads. The vocals are of the loud unintelligible variety that add a nice layer of texture to the proceedings. I gripped a few tapes at the show(this, and a double on Pizza Night) and the jams are righteous. Final High;5 songs clocking in at 20 minutes, is a rave up of classic garage with just enough fraying at the edges to keep it interesting. The important thing is; beneath the scuzz,there are simple and well written songs. And I love saying their fucking name.

I can't find the tape art online, and I'm too lazy to try and scan it somewhere so this picture of a tree-hugger who tried to sell me mushrooms will have to suffice. Also, there is no info on the tape about who put it out or song titles so if you know something leave a comment.

Puffy Areolas - Final High CS20

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5.untitled

Safe as Milk

Grachan Moncur III - "New Africa" (BYG,1969)

It recently occurred to me that I have been neglecting jazz here. It should come as no surprise that my interest lies in the more experimental strains of the genre which generally falls under the categorization of "free jazz". Like many genre signposts it is problematic, limiting and often derided by the branded musicians themselves. We shall leave the discussion of proper nomenclature for another day and instead focus on trombonist Grachan Moncur The Third's "New Africa" record released on the venerated BYG Actuel label in 1969. "New Africa" features other new music stalwarts Dave Burrell on piano, Roscoe Mitchell on alto sax and piccolo, Alan Silva on bass, Andrew Cyrille on drums and the inimitable Archie Shepp(with whom Moncur played extensively) on tenor sax for one cut. Less chaotic than many of the records being produced by the aforementioned players, "New Africa" is a shamelessly pretty exercise in post-Coltrane modal excursion. The title cut,presented in four distinct movements, is as beautiful and spacious a composition you will ever hear with each player turning in fine, if restrained, performances. Side two's appropriately titled "Exploration" shows the group in a more dynamic untethered space using texture atonality and repitition to exhilarating effect."New Africa" is a testament to the breadth of Moncur's compositional skill and the individual player's ability to flourish in any setting. One of the more accessible outings by any of it's individual contributors; this is a great record for trying to get yr girlfriend into some cool shit.


Grachan Moncur III - "New Africa" (BYG,1969)

1. New Africa
2. Space Spy
3. Exploration
4. When

dig

GA'AN

A colleague recently forwarded GA'ANs myspace page to me, and my initial thoughts flashed on Magma being fronted by Dagmar Krause without the political bullshit. Sufficiently impressed by the sample jams, I went and saw these Chicagoans slay the crowd of metal-heads, prog nerds and rock sluts(no shit, it was like a Warrant video) assembled at Death by Audio on Thursday night. GA'AN combines a muscular yet nimble rhythm section, a genuinne synth-wizard and a strong female vocalist to unleash a dark tide of grooves, space and texture. On this particular untitled cassette they wander into some great murk drone territory with gorgeous synth twinkle before blasting into a full rock stomp. The wordless vocals mesh perfectly within the synth zone while the bass and drums dance across time. This is a great fucking tape.

These dudes are on tour, check them out if you can and buy their shit and show some love.

GA'AN - S/T CS (Self-Released)

Side A - Untitled
Side B- Untitled


My
Buy
Try

ARICA - S/T (1972)

"The concept of Arica, both as a Mystical School and as a School of Knowledge, which correspond to the Absolute and Relative Minds respectively, rests on the basis that the School is one socially organized body or a brotherhood with the strong interrelation of an enlarged family."

- www.arica.org


While perusing the racks of used records at one of my local favorites(Permanent Records), I chanced upon this LP. Attracted by it's vaguely Native American/New Age cover and intrigued by the titles of the tracks(Water Music, Active In The Cosmos), I gave it a cursory listen at the listening station and was sufficiently impressed to make a purchase. The liner notes give a brief description of the Arica Institute's philosophy of mind/body relations and goes on to indicate that the music on Sides 1-3 was designed to accompany an Arican excercise known as The Audicion Plantar or "listening with the soles of the feet." Each section of music has a corresponding, possibly neck-breaking tutorial for optimum listening. I quickly learned that laying down with headphones on was a practical method for maximum jam-absorption.

The music is cryptically credited to "The Arica Musicians" who employ hand percussion, piano, voice, electric guitar,saxophone, bass,and vibes to ecstatic effect. Imagine Pharoah Sander's Karma-era band jamming with No Neck Blues Band. Chaotic free skronk yields to gorgeous pastoral passages seamlessly without a soloist's ego in sight. The interplay between the Guitar and Piano on side 2 is positively jaw-dropping while the rhythm runs the voodoo down. The atmosphere of the record leaves little doubt that the pieces were recorded live. Patient listening reveals incredibly nuanced performances even during the discordant freak-outs. Highly Recommended.

Oh, and please leave comments.

ARICA- S/T (1972)

1.A)Absorption B)Relaxation
2.A)Mentations B)Passive in the World C)Actve in the World
3.A)Passive in the Cosmos B)Active in the Cosmos C) The Funnell
4.Water Music

Freakform

R.I.P Eat Records

It saddens me to report the death of Eat Records...What was once an amazing place to hang out, drink coffee, have a nosh, and peruse through stacks of records has slowly become an Olive Garden for the ugly condo set.. Gone are the days when you could roll up, grab a cup and talk music, art and culture with the like-minded staff and fellow patrons for hours on end. Perhaps it was the introduction of tables and chairs so uncomfortable they had to have been designed to ensure minimum hang time(which I've been told is 100% accurate) or maybe it was the ousting of Douglas Pressman; the salty dawg whose legendary record hunting skills kept the shelves crammed with killer records. Thanks to founder Casey Block, Eat has been the backdrop for the formation of many friendships, musical projects, and ideas that span the globe. Mr.Block's friendly demeanor and musical knowledge assured the adventurous traveller there was always some cool live performance going down at 124 Meserole Ave. In the good old days you never noticed how shitty the coffee was as you were supporting a very unique business that was built on a foundation of love and community. That Eat Records is gone. Over the past year, the record inventory has been cut in half and the wi-fi turned off in a blatant attempt to rid the space of vibe and maximize profit for the Cafe(which is a separate entity from the record store). What remains is just another over-priced cafe in North Brooklyn hoping to capitalize on the influx of money into our neighborhood by offering miniscule renditions of trendy fare. The exorbitant prices discourage whatever struggling artists still remain in the area from dropping by leaving ample room for the nouveau riche and the disgustingly entitled to dine in sterilized bliss