Joanna Newsom

Though poetic words spill out as o'er a waterfall's edge, none tickle my spine like the lyrics dredged from the mind of a Bard, brimming with charm and cunning - phrases plucked for their stunning, aqueous viscosity. The bard strums on his lyre, uttering expressions garbed in flamboyant attire which weave thrilling tales of majestic myths and lengthy legends. Or rather she – and a harp not a lyre, for tonight Joanna Newsom warbles through the night air, recounting her streams of consciousness. Serendipitously I was out star gazing one night when I shuffled Emily; her narrative then seized me with delight, entrancing my thought for the full twelve minutes. Now every time Joanna belts out

Anyhow, I sat by your side, by the water
You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger
Though all I knew of the rote universe were those Pleiades loosed in December
I promised you I‘d set them to verse so I'd always remember
That the meteorite is a source of the light
And the meteor's just what we see
And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee
And the meteorite's just what causes the light
And the meteor's how it's perceived
And the meteoroid's a bone thrown from the void that lies quiet in offering to thee

I succumb to some sort of literary ecstasy, remembering twinkling dots in the sky above.

(These are both from Joanna Newsom's album Ys)

Emily


Sawdust & Diamonds

Gleam On Glamorous Gluttons

I call now for a change of pace, as I lack mobilized musical thoughts... so poetry shall soon flourish its flowery phantasmagorical feelers into this place of contemplation:

How does the moon feel so bright, shining forth upon splendid fettered swooning edged skies? My heart filters your downward gaze, as I often appropriate much to praise and silence emanates further. Piano reels pass by in time and thankfully await the omnibus's ever present wake. Lullabies and lovebringers swoop slyly into sight, the notes rain down upon dingy drums awaiting plucking parasites to end this fleshy fortnight's delight. Now the red behemoth does rise into the night, choosing gory sanguine color to do its flight. Dark and dreary does the rest of my vision hold weary contentment and still grows leery of the implacable void. And if disappear you must, fade fortuitously into slumber, loot the sailor's pithy plunder and tack no more of burdensome Earth - nay do it sunder.

Balmorhea

There's music for foot stompin', tunes for bass wommpin', limericks for tear jerkin' and melodies to whistle a walkin'; but I don't feel like listening to anything like that right now. I have in mind a sonic landscape befitting a fog laced valley, one with dewy expanse of vermilion blades undulating to the caress of a wispy wind. And as I now sit, nestled between headphones purring the ambrosial sounds of Balmorhea, my mind drifts to such a place.

Strands of banjo arpeggios interlacing with the groan of a cello; musicians voice's loosing fervent moans alongside the droning of a plucked guitar; shrewdly diffuse percussion inciting tumultuous climaxes – this is Balmorhea's third album All is Wild, All is Silent. But alas, my words fail to express the simultaneity of these event; I may only write in this linear fashion, so far removed from Balmorhea's polyphonic soundscape. So I instruct you to partition some time, fully immerse yourself amidst the music – let it cultivate a verdant vista within your mind's eye.

Remembrance

Harm and Boon


Truth

Thelonious Monk

I know of two musical comedians. The first is Eric Dolphy; the second, Thelonious Monk. These two men incite a veritable sense of hilarity within me. I guffaw at the absurdity of their melodic lines, I snicker at the acridity of their resolving notes. But I laugh not out of spite, nay, I laugh out of love for their vision. They spout forth notes simply for its intrinsic satisfaction - they adore their own art.

I surely now rank Thelonious Monk in the upper strata of iconic jazz heroes, but I do so vividly remember scoffing off his music upon a first listen. I read something about what a masterpiece 'Round Midnight' is and decided to give it a whirl, only to throw it to the side, hrumphing at the reviewer for leading me astray. It wasn't until I saw a video of Thelonious playing that I began to appreciate the music. So I've taken two of my favorite clips from 'Straight, No Chaser' (Documentary Produced by Clint Eastwood, and directed by Charlotte Zwerin) and also my favorite recordings from the album 'Straight, No Chaser' to share Thelonious' ingenuity.

Perhaps to appreciate Thelonious, one must understand his quirks. The video will surely reveal a few - in 'Evidence' he dances around on stage completely enthralled with the music, walks off and then rushes back to fly into a solo after realizing it's his turn; in 'Round Midnight' he maintains control of the keyboard whilst fishing out a cloth, smacking on the piano a few times to carry on the solo.

I love the documentary, but I do find that the recordings epitomize the beauty of his style. I still have yet to pay enough attention to the saxophonist because Thelonious captivates me even underneath the soloist (and please wait for Thelonious to solo, it's deep in the piece). He always meanders around the melody, disguising it beneath layers of dissonance, masquerading it behind prolonged silences.

It's strange stuff, but not without its own unique breed of logic and emotion. And remember, no matter if you love or hate the music, Thelonious simply didn't give a fuck.

'Round Midnight

Evidence

Locomotive; Straight, No Chaser


Straight, No Chaser; Straight, No Chaser

Charles Mingus

Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus defines a moment in my musical history. It started me on a journey, a search for the spectacular. I knew of a few good jazz albums at the time, but I really hadn't pieced together my reasoning for liking an album or not. In some sense, they all sounded the same to me. Not only could I not differentiate a Coltrane solo from a Parker, but, in many cases, I couldn't even tell the difference between a trumpet and a saxophone. But Charles Mingus, Oh Charles Mingus! It wasn't a love at first listen, it was a realization of uniqueness. It was a kindred spirit feeling which overwhelmed me.

And ironically, this album is at surface value only some kind of Mingus greatest hits compilation. All but one piece were previously recorded; they are reworked versions of previous compositions. So how in the world could this be unique, how could this exude a limitless sense of daring? In many of my posts I've mentioned the beauty which emanates from limitations - such as the beauty of Yann Tiersen's minimalism. Here too does this factor improve my listening experience. It is the inherent possibility for the mundane, for the generic, for the platitudinous which creates this album's power. Some of the songs have really quite simple chord progressions, and the whole setup of a big band generally leads to more pop oriented songs. But Mingus doesn't go this route. Mingus shapes a pile of old standards into a surreal experience. He struts his genius by creating masterpieces out of simplicity.

He has a fantastic ensemble to help out, and though I won't list names they deserve almost as much recognition for their playing ability. One interesting thing about listening to a Mingus album is that I can't tell where Mingus' composing ends, and a players improvising begins. He utilizes a rough compositional style in which the soloist works within the confines of a pre-determined progression, yet all the while ensuring that each soloist adds a bit of their own soul. The notes hold little significance without the careful rhythmic and dynamic designs of the players.

So here are my favorites, two raucously swinging, and two devilishly sultry.

II B.S.; Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus


Mood Indigo; Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus


Theme For Lester Young; Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus


Hora Decubitus; Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus

Le Trio Joubran

Every once in a while I grow weary of Jazz and Classical music, and when this happens, I always turn to World music. Primal, expressive, plaintive; each descriptor proves ineffectual because I plainly do not understand another culture's music as well as my own. In an attempt to analyze the music, I may catch glimmers of insight as to the formation of the music, but I wholly lack knowledge of intention. No amount of reading wikipedia will result in realizing the scope of the music; nor should I think any level of research will reveal its secrets. I may only understand it on my own terms – allowing my body to interpret the rhythms, letting my ear negotiate the foreign harmonies – all within the confines of my own experience. Thus, I will not delve into explanation, I will just share a couple of my favorite artists from around the world within the next few posts.

Should you wish to read up, here are some links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oud
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Trio_Joubran

Masâr; Le Trio Joubran on Majâz

Eric Dolphy

I suppose I am drifting off the avant-garde edge with these last few posts, but their baleful moans offer so much more than ordinary music. Their oddity mandates scrutiny, and it affords complete uniqueness to the notesmiths.

Although Eric Dolphy was relegated to the free-jazz or anti-jazz classification during his time, this music is nothing like my previous post. It's comical given this anti-jazz classification that I find Eric Dolphy to epitomize the 'jazz is conversation' analogy. But it's not just an analogy with him – he really speaks through his instrument. Initially you may think that he blows into his instrument like a cacophonous reprobate. But take note of exactly how weird his sound is – perhaps how hauntingly familiar it is. He articulates instrumental sounds into emotive voices. This is most apparent on the Mingus recording, but he continually speckles his solos with strange yalps and gasps.

For the What Love? track I want to focus your attention from 7:00 (in particular from 9:30) onward. Here Charles Mingus and Eric Dolphy participate in a most realistic of musical conversations. Mingus sporadically throws Dolphy cat calls and grievances, enticing specific melodic phrasings. And at 10:33, when Mingus so vividly jabs “Ya Serious Man?” Dolphy snaps right back on the same motif with what I can only interpret as the snarling of a cornered animal.

Eric Dolphy's Out to Lunch offers an entirely other side of musical expression. Throughout the solos, the rhythm section interjects their sparse language and discord. The vibes in particular feel like a specter who persists in jousting with the group, prodding the harmonic cracks until bursting forth in solo. But as this raucous group grates your ears, discover that in the midst of this apparent musical void, the soloist attains relative freedom of expression. The chaos allows the absurd melodic lines of Dolphy's mind.

The heads are strikingly awkward; they flounder around like fish gasping for oxygen – struggling to find sustenance. The melodies are distinct enough to count as themes, but Dolphy's music runs in a different stream of thought. He fabricates a unique musical logic which emanates through each piece, and though I cannot fully understand it, I find his intentions palpable enough to drag my mind along for the ride. And so no matter which of his instruments he chooses to play (bass clarinet, alto sax, or flute), the music always elicits some strange new awareness within me.

What Love?; Charles Mingus and Eric Dolphy on Mingus at Antibes


Hat and Beard; Eric Dolphy on Out to Lunch


Something Sweet, Something Tender; Eric Dolphy on Out to Lunch

Freedom

I've been having troubles in writing a post on free jazz - though it's laughably absurd that I feel a restriction of freedom in posting about freedom. But I don't know how to approach giving a piece of free jazz to someone else to listen to – its just such an acquired taste that I fear only the most resolute admirer will understand its characteristics. I do not feign saying that all free jazz is good music, nor may I even write some of it off as music. It deserves another kind of function, one perhaps better understood by the musicians themselves than the listeners. And it is this absurdity of reversals in roles which make free jazz what it is to me. These musicians are not saying, “I'm making something for the enjoyment of all, I'm giving my time and effort for an altruistic musical approach.” No, no it's something much more sinister, much more, dare I say selfish. Yes, yes of course its absolute selfishness to play what they do, but frankly that's the only way for them to attain musical freedom. Free jazz bands are not bands, they are groups of individual spirits who possess an unrelinquishing urge to attain absolute freedom of musical expression. One may ask, couldn't a free jazz artist achieve this goal alone easier than as a group? My answer is an overwhelming no.

Imagine that you are a prominent theorist (of whatever field you wish) trapped on a deserted island, but throwing aside your sorrow of desertion, you decide to continue your search for understanding. So you go about theorizing, experimenting and so forth. To an outside observer you are confined to the information at hand to you on the island and in you brain. You are restricted by the fact that there isn't another person with whom you may converse to broaden your understanding. Of course if you are remarkably intelligent you can still figure a lot out, but eventually your cloistering will impede progress.

Now try to understand my usage of this analogy in the realm of music. The free jazz artist, aware of his human limitations, then surrounds himself with other like minded fellows to augment their attempt at freedom. This is the key element which led me to understand and appreciate free jazz. You have to look for the intricacies in melody or rhythm between the members. When one member finds a remarkable melodic line, the others realize this, and because of their skill they are able to grasp hold of it and use it within their own attempt at freedom. And so this exchanging of ideas gives the artists a freer perspective, a freedom beyond what they could attain whilst solo.

Unfortunately there are lulls in their creativity which pale in comparison. So while the highs are remarkable, I can't say the lows are worth anything.

In light of this I now present Sleep Talking. It starts out so hauntingly with a quote from Igor Stravinsky's Rite of Spring (I think). They set up a stable enough foundation upon which the rest may follow. It doesn't get to the spasmodic type of free jazz until a couple of minutes in, but when it does, if you scoff in revulsion, I do not blame you. It has taken me many months to appreciate free jazz. Hopefully you see enough beauty in the introduction that you can find beauty throughout.

I suppose that I'll include another song as well to show the intense difference in styles between each artist. For Albert Ayler, his expression of mood lies primarily in timbre, so pay attention not just to the notes, but how the sounds are delivered.

Sleep Talking, Ornette Coleman, Sound Grammar


Spirits, Albert Ayler Trio, Spiritual Unity

Maurice Ravel

Here is my first post on what I think of as abstracted music. I hope in the future to give several posts pertaining to those few who have attained a level of music, which, in some sense lacks music; instead they have mastered techniques of musical abstraction. The very beauty of this music lies in its sense of interpretation, so although I will present my analysis, I leave it to you to tease out your own. By the way, watching these pieces played offers yet another element of curiosity, both because of the virtuosity required to play them as well as having a physical feel of the movement on the piano. They are easily accessible on youtube.

First off comes Maurice Ravel. He did not start the Impressionistic revolution in music, but so far in my journeys, I have not found someone who better embodies my interpretation of Impressionism. Starting out in a musical scene rife with a new stream of ingenuity from the French and Russian camps, Ravel set out to give his hand, but more importantly his mind, to the music. He was trained as a pianist, and studied it through schooling for several years, but he always had a peculiar interest in composing, one far above his interest in playing. As the piano is his maiden instrument, many of his compositions are for solo piano, or were originally scored for some variant of a piano sonata, only to be rearranged into an orchestral composition. He has an intimate understanding of the capacity of instruments, making use of each to dramatic effect. The pianos main forte in this sense is it adroitness in the perception of movement. With the piano he gives the same feeling of fluidity as Debussy, but it is often a much more focused and utilitarian sweep of the keyboard, tracing out large swathes of keys for the purpose of harmonic motion. The usage of volume is just as critical, allowing a swift transition from contemplation to unabated fury.

But even as Ravel composed some of my most treasured piano works, the piano cannot conjure the fitful emotional sensation of a violin, nor the atmosphere of an orchestral backing. And so changing gears, here I present Tzigane. To ensure the utmost gyspsy-esque feel, the piece starts off with instructions to stay on the lowest string. And so commences this odyssey of timbre. The unnerving vibrato, piercing harmonics and squeamishness of the chords (of which I am ever so enamored) establishes the stylization of our violin hero. Just as a good book must characterize the protagonist, Ravel too spends five minutes developing the violin before throwing it into battle with the orchestra. In the ensuing combat our hero seems to fight, suffer wounds, retreat, then rinse and repeat, trying to retain his sense of pride. With some passages I feel the character dragging its melodic feet across the ground, trying to muster strength enough for another engagement with the enemy.

Close your eyes, put on a good set of headphones, and unravel Ravel's majestic musical tapestries.

Also in due respect of the performers, they are as follows:

Jeux d'eau as played by Alaxandre Tharaud on Ravel: Œuvre pour piano

Edit: I changed the Tzigane recording. The violin-piano version is so much better. Performed by Leonidas Kavakos on violin and Peter Nagy on piano.

Jeux d'eau


Tzigane

Yann Tiersen part deux

I'm back to showcase Yann Tiersen again. Last time his solo pieces brought out the full emotional feel of his music, but I'd like to share one of my long-time favorite albums: Le Phare. Here he broadens the scope of minimalism, taking several minimal elements and transforming it all into a mélange of orchestral layering.

This is the beauty of minimalism, this is how it becomes an art. The extreme minimalism of Alvin Lucier, albeit interesting conceptually, lacks any artistic beauty (look up the album I am Sitting In A Room for a taste of what I mean). But Yann Tiersen's breed utilizes the dramatic power of layering for a fully transcendent experience. He may start off with one instrument, letting it wail away, but then out of this despondency a new atmosphere emerges, taking you through an embroiling sea of instruments. Soon enough the speakers play host to so many sounds that it can be a daunting challenge to keep track of. I used to attempt appreciating each of the instruments individually, scrutinizing their solemn characteristics. But this is truly missing the point of the music. Let the waves of complexity crash into you, then watch them recede, only to return again.

These are in order from a section of the album so I'd recommend listening to them in order.

La Noyée


Le Fromveur


L'homme Aux Bras Ballants

Pentangle

I came across Pentangle a while back through the one of the personnel in Nick Drake's albums – the bassist Danny Thompson. And while Danny intrigues me in his own right, Pentangle pocesses such a uniqueness that on the first listen through of this album I was absolutely hooked. It's this weird freak-folk-jazz-celtic-blues mashup which of course shouldn't be described by a mere mixture of genres. Pentangle is Bert Jansch and John Renbourn on guitar, Danny Thompson on double bass, Terry Cox on drums, and Jacqui McShee vocals. They tangle everything together so well that you will feel at home regardless of any previous aversions to fusion, and although somewhat of a super-group, they manage to create a coherent sound all their own. I'm going to leave all the original introductions on the songs – it's a live album and they are actually interesting, especially the introduction to Burton Town.

Market Song


Burton Town showcases the group as a whole - in particular the way in which they can collectively improvise without tripping over one another.

Burton Town


Jacqui McShee's voice has this eerie angelic effect on So Early in the Spring; her voice feeds on the natural harmonics of the room, allowing for a faint reverberating echo. Usually the disparity between Bert and Jacqui's vocal tones broadens up the harmonic scope of the lyrics, so although strikingly beautiful in each song, her voice is no more important that the rest of the group. But here she appropriately exploits the limit of the song's freedom.

So Early In The Spring

Foreign Sounds

I feel like sharing some foreign rap... but I realize that it may be hard to bypass the comprehension factor. However, not only could these tracks hold up by themselves without the vocals, but if you just let the music flow over you, you'll realize that the rhyming is obvious, and the languages allows for an absolutely gorgeous approach to rapping. Enjoy the beauty of the sound and not the meaning of the words. That's about all I have to offer – just try it.

MC Solaar: Prose Combat
Obsolète


Gotan Project: Lunático Featuring Koxmoz
Mi Confesión

Money Jungle

I'll start back up where I left off, with another spectacular trio group. But where the Bill Evan's trio offers a cool melodic state of affairs, it's hard to recall a hotter, blusier jazz recording. Money Jungle sets Duke Ellington, Charles Mingus, and Max Roach at each others throats, each vying for the spotlight at every moment. Well not really, but this is a combination so rife with virtuosity and soul that I am thoroughly amazed at its cogency.

Notably, these three are amazing band leaders in their own right. Duke Ellington of course is heralded as the most celebrated American composer. Charles Mingus on the other hand has his own eccentric breed of jazz organization, combining the energy of early New Orleans style jazz with the vision of classical compositions. And then there is the drummer Max Roach, famously said of him, "because of him, drumming no longer was just time, it was music."

The Mingus-Ellington duo is so driving. Each has their own peculiar coarseness, but together they are downright, oh how shall I say, gnarly – in the cringing satisfaction sense. Listen to the title track Money Jungle to see what I mean. A little more than a minute through, Mingus sounds like a hackling hyena, provoking the Duke's arpeggios to find yet more delicious dissonance. One funny thing to note, Mingus is one of the very few musicians that Ellington personally fired, I think 10 years prior to this recording. Just unbelievable chemistry. And Mingus' bass solos always offer an unmatched sense of musical depth – he has the ability to make the bass seem like an instrument on par with any other.

I can't really approve of any generic rock music anymore because the drumming is downright platitudinous. The fastest way to lose my interest is to have the exact same drumming throughout each section of a song. Jazz has spoiled me in this way, but just listen to the intricacy of Max Roach's style. There's that constant element of timing, but he sneaks extra rhythmic patterns into the music at every chance. But what differentiates Max from the typical hard nosed rocker drummer is the sense of melodiousness he produces from his set. He isn't just hitting every surface in sight. The percussion has structure and purpose; there aren't any superfluous frills, just intelligent ones.

Money Jungle


A Little Max


Switch Blade

Bill Evans Trio

The Bill Evans Trio's live recording Sunday At The Village Vanguard persistently snatches my interest when I think of an album to close my eyes to and relish the beauty of imaginative minds. It's by far the most intimate live jazz recording I know of, with the clatter of plates in the background of some songs, and intermittent chatter sneaking into the microphones. But beyond the ambiance, the musicians themselves create an unparalleled level of conscious thinking. In the opening of Miles Davis' Solar, pianist Bill Evans and bassist Scott LaFaro wind in and around each other copying and countering, nodding and jesting. This is jazz to me. This is true conversation of musical ability. Each of the members adds to the overall music while retaining their own identity. The rhythm section isn't relegated to holding up the soloist. Oftentimes I imagine the figure of Atlas straining under the weight of the world, or a mountain whose snowy peaks are the only source of beauty to some. Even when a band leader allows an amount of time for the other members to solo, they have a moment of expression but then fade back into the shadows. But here each fulfills his own expression whilst goading his teammates. Although jazz as an art form builds up from the rhythm section to the soloist, this trio showcases how divine music is when collaboration starts with individuality.

I do enjoy walking bass lines, but while harmonically the bassist has quite a lot of freedom, melodically and rhythmically he is confined. When LaFaro falls into a walking bass line it has so much more meaning and power because it's so sporadic. Just as dissonance empowers consonance, LaFaro's different backing approaches invigorates the trio. And with the same power, when Evans backs Scott's soloing he doesn't just pound on chords. He is just as animated and lively as Scott. As for the drummer Paul Motian, I view him as a focal point between Evans and LaFaro. I suppose he seems the most stable on the surface, but again on closer inspection his subtle maneuvers expound the theme of the group.

This may seem daunting at first, I certainly didn't know how to listen to it initially. But realize that this isn't free-form jazz, and while each member has his own merit, the composite trio sound is the most important element.

Milestones


Solar


All Of You (Take 3)

Double Bass Riffs

Here's my pick of Avishai Cohen riffs. I'll admit that Avishai plays most of the songs that I blast in my car. I suppose it's catchier than the average jazz song but I love it anyway. One thing to note, most of the odd percussive sounds that you hear are done by Avishai on his bass. On Gershon Beat the percussive sounds are almost as much of a part of the riff as the notes. But beyond the bass, Gershon Beat has a wonderful flutist, something I rarely hear in jazz. Before ever listening to Yusef Lateef this was my favorite flute jazz song. It has a great Arabic vibe to it and he can hit both the percussive sounds or a long series of undulating notes. Smash on the other hand has such an aggressiveness to it. The drummer Mark Guiliana always sticks out to me, especially on the Avishai Cohen Trio albums. He has a decently harder style; on one recording (not here) he displayed an unusual integration of metal's double pedaling of the bass drum. Actually, as an aside, that technique did originate in jazz with Louie Bellson. That Arabic stringed sound in Smash is an Oud, a frettless lute-like instrument.

And I'll throw in II B.S. off of Charles Mingus' Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus album. It's a variation of the his Haitian Fight Song, but I find this version to have a much more lively appeal.

Now you can respond with some real bass music when an SUV rumbling to hip hop drives up next to you.

Gershon Beat (At Home)


Smash (Continuo)


II B.S.

Sketches of Spain

It's a dark and dreary, snow covered landscape outside my window, but I put on Sketches of Spain and I might as well be basking in the beauty of the Mediterranean. Each spurt of sound Miles Davis proffers to our ears feels like a slow moving breeze; it eddies at the surface and maintains a placid composure through its bulk. This piece is more akin to a classical composition in sound than a jazz orchestration. The arrangements move with the speed of Mile's flügelhorn or trumpet, intermingling wispy horns, sporadic percussion and nonchalant bass-work in the background. I can't help but to accept a sigh of relaxation. I'll share Concierto De Aranjuez, essentially the inspiration for Sketches of Spain. It represents the flavor and mood of the whole album as a testament to Joaquín Rodrigo's original Concierto.

Concierto De Aranjuez

Penguin Cafe Orchestra

I love meandering through music artists, starting with one artist that I love, then swimming through a sea of new sounds until I find some new elusive element. I'll float right over some, but then another will hook me with its first dance of notes. Penguin Cafe Orchestra is another mesmerizing display of layered minimalism, but it has this odd folky-worldy feel about it. The songs don't have momentum, but its perfect for listening to whilst sitting around and doing homework. These are all off of their second album, Penguin Cafe Orchestra.

Yodel 2


Steady State


Numbers 1-4

Talk Talk

A couple weeks back I ventured into the annals of time in search of the first post-rock albums. A few artists piked my interest but none to the degree of Talk Talk. It's not the quintessential post-rock feel I get from Mogwai but something much more fundamental. They were innovators with Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock - I think of the songs more in terms of atmospheres than melody or rhythm. Take a listen to hear what I mean: the layering of disparate sounds and ambiance, phasing of volumes... But beyond the songs themselves the albums are complete entities. Each of the songs is memorable but its all so cohesive; it doesn't drive towards a goal, instead it builds to become what I can only describe as a feeling. I don't quite mean emotional but it's beyond objective enjoyment. I don't piece apart its musical mechanics like with most music, it just flows. The movement of the instruments to the likeness of Hollis's voice mesmerizes me, like a ghost fleeting in and out reality.

The Rainbow takes a long time to get going, and they are all long songs, but give them justice, and check out the albums if you like these songs.

Ascension Day (Laughing Stock)


Taphead (Laughing Stock)


The Rainbow (Spirit Of Eden)

African Blues

American blues and African traditional music still maintain very similar sounds, especially when the two cross pollinate. Here's Taj Mahal on Taj Mahal Meets The Culture Musical Club Of Zanzibar and Ali Farka Toure in Savane.

Taj Mahal plays with some Zanzibar musicians on this album to make for a great representation of how African music influenced Blues. It carries the same focus on great sounding licks but they also add quite a bit more ornamentation to the notes. I absolutely recommend this album for a step into the World music realm while still maintaining an easily recognizable sound.

Ali Farka Toure is known as the King of the Desert Singers. He started out playing Malian traditional njarka and guitar and eventually jumped the ocean to experiment with their musical cousin the Blues. It is peculiar listening to this track because at first I imagine a heavy Bluesy drawl, but in English of course. His manner is so reminiscent of artists like John Lee Hooker that I feel as if the lyrics would be just like a typical Blues song if I could understand them.

Catfish Blues


Ledi Coumbe

Portico Quartet

Never before have I been so entranced by the sounds of a steel drum, normally they become far to jarring to my ears but Portico Quartet makes them work! But I came to find out, it isn't a steel pan, but an entirely new type of instrument. The Hang as it's called was invented within the last decade, and is in continuous refinement with the addition of metallurgical and acoustic research. It looks like a flying saucer with indents around the surface. Apparently it is played with hands and fingers, which gives the soft melodic sound production. I was just recently introduced to these guys and with such perfect timing because I'm just starting to take a deeper appreciation for the tone which different saxophonists use. Jack Wyllie (saprano and alto sax) produces an incredibly sweet, soft sound. And I'm loving the sporadic bowed double bass. All around a very well put together jazz group.

Zavodovski Island


Cittàgazze

Album Recommendations

I absolutely recommend listening to the full albums of any of the artists that I post, each song is not just a lonely single, they all belong to thoroughly complete and worthwhile albums. However, I'm not always constrained by this fancy, and I'm well aware that music listening doesn't necessitate full album experiences. But when possible I certainly enjoy a good album more than wanderings through genres and influences. Here are some fully immersible albums: (I have some categorized, but some are beyond my categorical capacity)

Strunz & Farah: Desert Guitar (Flamenco/Persian Guitar)
Paul Chambers: Bass On Top (Bass Heavy Jazz)
Portugal. The Man: Censored Colors
The Black Keys: Chulahoma (Blues)
Beats Antique: Collide (World Fusion Electronica)
The Seatbelts: Cowboy Bebop (Jazz)
TV On The Radio: Dear Science
Daft Punk: Discovery (Electronica)
Easy Star All Stars: Dub Side Of The Moon
Pink Floyd: Dark Side Of The Moon
Yusef Lateef: Eastern Sounds (Jazz)
Pretty Lights: Filling Up The City Skies (Electronica)
Cut Copy: In Ghost Colors (Electronica)
Neutral Milk Hotel: In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
Justice: Justice (Electronica)
Led Zeppelin: Led Zeppelin I
The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Axis Bold As Love
Living Legends: Legendary Music Vol. 1(Hip Hop)
Béla Fleck & The Flecktones: Live At The Quick (Live Jazz)
Thievery Corporation: Mirror Conspiracy (Lounge)
Devendra Banhart: Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon
Beirut: The Flying Club Cup (European/Balkan)
Keith Jarrett: The Köln Concert (Live Jazz)
Ra Ra Riot: The Rumb Line
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros: Up From Below
José González: Veneer
Joshua Radin: We Were Here
Stephanie Nilles: reDemo
Jake Shimbakukuro: Gently Weeps (Ukulele)
A Tribe Called Quest: Anthology (Hip Hop)
Herbie Hancock: Head Hunters (Jazz Fusion)
Diana Krall: Live In Paris (Live Jazz)
Miles Davis: Kind Of Blue (Jazz)
Charles Mingus: Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus (Bass Heavy Jazz)
Duke Ellington & Ray Brown: This One's For Blanton (Bass Heavy Jazz)
John Coltrane: Blue Train (Jazz)
Albert Ayer Trio: Spiritual Unity (Free Jazz)
Breathe Owl Breathe: Climb In
Samuel James: Songs Famed For Sorrow And Joy (Blues)
Ravi Shakar: Three Ragas (Sitar)

And artists with an entire discography worth listening to:
Yann Tiersen (Minimalist/Contemporary Classical)
Devotchka (World Fusion)
Toumani Diabante (African Kora)
Sigur Rós (Icelandic Post-Rock)
Avishai Cohen (Bass Heavy Jazz)
The Chieftains (Celtic)
Iron & Wine (Acoustic)
Taraf De Haïdouks (Gypsy)

Space Photography

Hubble Photos

There are some amazing Hubble photos in this collection. Infomative captions as well.

World Wide Telescope

If you care to explore the depths of space freely then this is the best program. You can zoom to any place in the universe that we have photographed, which is a surprisingly enormous amount. Some areas are supplemented with high resolution Hubble/telescope photos.