It’s been almost four years since I had George Sarah and his string trio on my KUCI show. And just about as long since he’s released a proper album. He’s back again tonight on the program, this time as a guest DJ and I look forward to catching up with him. I do know he’s been hard at work scoring music for, and placing his music in, television and film. One listen and you’ll hear why his work is sought after. Sarah’s downtempo beats and synth work flow in and around gorgeous strings of all shapes and sizes. He calls it Electronic Chamber music. I call it a super-smooth-chill-explosion. Cool down your hot summer head with some George Sarah swimming between your ears.
Parade
Two weeks ago when posting the Childballads, I quoted from Jonathan Fire*Eater’s “Give Me Daughters” in relating that I have three daughters, just like the song. In my quote, I left out the lines immediately preceding the words I quoted: “I will raise them/I will raise them/I will raise/I will raise/I will raise them oh/In the city surrounded by water.” Now that me and the family are moving San Francisco, which I understand to be mostly surrounded by water, I’ve started to wonder about Stewart Lupton’s impact on my life. Of course, this also means that for the near future I will be focusing purely on Southern bands, like Atlanta’s (via Athens) Parade, in celebration of the 81% of my life spent living in the South. I’ve loved Atlanta bands since I first heard the 1986 compilation of Atlanta bands Make the City Grovel In Its Dust, and I can still remember almost every word and guitar lick of Train Black Manifesto’s “Bristol” and Rockin’ Bones’ “Be At Ease.”
So back to Parade and their smart rock-tinged pop. On “That’s Hott” from their recent EP, one cannot almost imagine the B52’s raised in this millennium on Parade’s stated influences of Radiohead, Gang of Four, Nick Cave, and PJ Harvey, while others like the acoustic guitar-based “Hunting” embrace the Southern singer-songwriter tradition of other Athens and Atlanta bands. But whatever the style, Parade is simple and melodic, kinda like the South.
The Budos Band
My 10-year-old son plays the clarinet in his school orchestra. His teacher offered a weekly jazz band class, in which my son, disappointing his old man, chose not to participate. This summer I plan on feeding him some heavy doses of The Budos Band, regaling him with stories of their after-school jazz ensemble, and how it lead the boys across the East River, via late night ferry rides, to sneak into Antibalas, Sugarman Three and Fela Kuti shows. Those illicit escapades helped form the Afro-Soul roots of The Budos Band. No son, it’s not exactly Harry Potter but, man, “Ride Or Die” would sure make a great soundtrack to those Lego James Bond videos you’re always watching on YouTube kid.
Space Needle
For a brief moment in the ’90s (I’m talking like, three years), Jud Ehrbar, Jeff Gatland, Anders Parker were responsible for some of the most underrated music of that decade. Reservoir (Ehrbar’s ambient-ish side project) and Varnaline (Parker’s Americana/altcountry-ish side project) were impressive enough, but Space Needle’s two albums, Voyager and Moray Eels Eat the Space Needle set the standard for melancholic, noisy (and often very lengthy) art rock that modern acts like Animal Collective and Black Dice are still trying to catch up with. Why were they so overlooked? Some blame Zero Hour, the record label shared by all three bands at the time, and their distribution deal with folk-friendly Rounder which landed their records in patchouli-soaked bookstores instead of the appreciative hands of adventurous nutters like you and me. (The silver lining is that you can pick up the entire Zero Hour catalog at CD exchanges for the price of a BK value meal.) For those who’d rather have history packaged for them nice and neat like (and can afford a king-sized value meal), Eenie Meenie Records last year reissued select tracks from those two Space Needle albums on one CD called Recordings 1994-1997). Enjoy the trip…down memory lane.
Saturna
I’ll cop to being a wee bit of a sucker for the newish, more combustible brand of shoegazer fuzz. It just feels closer to what I’ve always thought of as the ideal of rock and roll: nihilism in three chords or less. Portland’s Saturna don’t shy away from such interpretations, giving us both the more traditionally atmospheric naval gaze of “Roll Down†and the slightly embittered and fully catchy kiss-off of “Pop Rocks.†There’s even a cowbell in there.
Bad Brains
When I was about 12, my dad built a bootleg cable descrambler out of transistors and other thingies like that, and we ended up with the full complement of 80s cable, including MTV. That was where I first heard and saw Bad Brains, in a video for “I Against I,” and the particular style of music offered by the band — totally frenetic, out-of-control, Jah-inspired DC hardcore — made me think that Dad had messed up the wiring on the his pirate cable gizmo. It was Unreal, capital ‘U.’ However many years later, the Brains are still going, recording Build a Nation, produced by Adam Yauch and released a week or so ago on Megaforce Records. And the old is new again.
The Harlem Shakes
It is a difficult thing, trying to find the perfect song to accompany a key lime pie, a margarita, good company and some serious barbeque. The first time I heard the buzz about the Harlem Shakes, I was hoping for just such a song (because I am always hoping for such a song), but I was expecting something a little more, erm, Harlem? When I heard the opening notes, my heart sank a little and then I got over my initial expectations and couldn’t stop bopping. They are clever, loud, playful and often rocking out, and for today, July 4th, I plan on blasting them loudly and often. Margarita in hand.
Laurie Anderson
It’s rare for a label to offer up a free track from their catalog, from one of their bread and butter albums, the albums that pay their bills year after year (not that Laurie Anderson is bringing in barrels of cash for WMG…). Even more rare is finding Laurie Anderson, the iconoclastic musician-artist-instrument maker (the tape-bow violin), revisiting her older projects. “Let X=X” can be found on her 1982 album Big Science, an early mainstream electronic album. The lyrics are wonderfully disjointed, seemingly found sentences, notes and conversations woven together with swelling synths, handclaps and doubled vocoder vocals. I believe this re-issue will be the first of several from Anderson’s catalog. Take advantage! If your music collection is void of Laurie Anderson start filling that void today and expand your education in American electronic artists.
South Central
Leave it to a couple Brits, thousands of miles away from the hood, to snag South Central as the moniker for their punked-up, electronic efforts. Don’t, however, expect them to address gang politics or aesthetics in their dance floor offerings. On their forthcoming single, due August 13th on Regal’s Single Club, the b-side track, “Revolution,” and its refrain “Can’t stop the wheel,” pays homage to both Spacemen 3 and to the novel of Russian philosopher/mystic P.D. Ouspensky, The Strange Life of Ivan Osokin, who explores the idea of eternal recurrance. Deep, trippy stuff to be sure. Catch their DJ sets or live appearances (with a five piece band) this summer in London and its surroundings. If they ever slow down their remix work, hopefully South Central will concentrate on banging out their very own, proper album. An archaic wish I know…
The Winston Jazz Routine
The Winston Jazz Routine doesn’t come off as the kind of music you’d typically hear coming out of Nashville. Then again, I’ve spent a grand total of 20 minutes in Nashville and it was all in a car on the freeway—and yes, I’m a bit ashamed of that fact. Nathan Phillips is the man behind an ever-rotating cast of characters in The Winston Jazz Routine, yet despite who comes in and out, this is Phillips’ child, and that child ain’t no troubled-troubadour or honky tonk hoedown. It’s more like torch music for the youthfully somber. Phillips is at heart a piano crooner whose songs are more likely to stir in you the desire to embrace your regrets like a warm blanket than to tap your feet or snap your fingers. Yet these compositions are far from hopeless. On the contrary, they ease into your mind and plant the seed of melancholy we all need every now and then to wash ourselves clean. It’s tailor-made for rainy days, and Nashville has its share of those, right?