Reviews by kuvien

It used to be that the West exported its culture (including music), but now it seems the tables have turned--and we're all the richer for this kind of cross-pollination.

Fuck you, guy who finished the 1001+ album listening challenge and then submitted this trash to the hall of fame.

Argentina. 1970. You really can't go wrong with something like this, the kind of music that is supremely confident in what its doing, comfortable in its own voice, whether that be actual vocals or the instrumentation. I'm not at all surprised to hear not only guitar soloing but flutes all over this recording. And there's something about the way Argentine men sang back in the 1970s: not exactly androgynous but certainly higher and more melodious than one would expect in rock. One can really feel the vigor of youth in this music, and it doesn't take much digging for one to realize what a giant this album is in the establishment of rock nacional. This album really wears its influences on its sleeve, not at all trying to hide its eclecticism.

What a glorious pisstake!

The reason this sounds a lot like Änglagård is because it almost is, except for the vocalist, who is just the daughter of one of the members of Änglagård. Weird but cool. Dad gets to play bass for his daughter as she wields her rich, zeuhl-like voice as if it were another instrument.

A beautiful, intimate, warm little debut. Ever so charming and vulnerable.

Next time your friend wants a hug because of a breakup, give her this album. It's a warm, soft, mellow embrace that commiserates like a confidante. When your heart's given all it can, let this album give something to you. This album is halfway between Zee Avi and Natalia Lafourcade.

Breezy, sunny, warm, cute. The kind of album that embraces springtime, not because of the weather but because it is a time of change, and more importantly, of rebirth. From death to life. Or, in this case, from a broken heart to love again. This album is the charming, undemanding fruit of the vibrant, grassroots mid-2010s Chile indie scene, so if that's your kind of vibe, then this is your kind of album. If you despise indie, then run away to your nearest landfill and throw yourself in. Tell them not enough males and not enough chop-playing on guitars.

This shit aged me 20 years.

Here's another album that plays it safe on side A and brings the fire on side B. I guess side A is just getting me in the mood, what with its energetic organ work, warming me up for the beautiful "La caza del mosquito". There's a shift of tone here, one from driving synths to ethereal flutes that make you feel like you're on a mountaintop. Not only elevated but alone. This really is an album of two halves.

An album of two extremes, this work puts to excellent use the concept of negative space in music, much like painting exploring the lack of something rather than its presence. In this case, there are plenty of long, complex passages of full music, but those passages are punctuated by extended forays into mostly silence, sprinkled with sparse percussion, meandering flutes, or even a bit of birdsong.

Garbage. Flaming garbage.

Needs moar klezmer. Not as good as their earlier, more-Jewish stuff. It does bounce, though, so there’s that. And it still gets me up and high-stepping a dance I can’t do.

Imagine happening upon these troubadours--or rather they "happening" upon you--in some field far from the nearest village. You're invited into one of their tiny carnival tents, and you're surprisingly not surprised that it's much bigger on the inside. Like a world into itself. You even give into temptation to raise the arras and see how the strange music is made.

This Finnish avant-prog is a pleasure to listen to. It's got a mix of European folk, jazz, metal, and even a little known genre called klezmer, the traditional music of the Ashkenazi Jews of Eastern Europe, giving this album a strong ethnic underpinning, allowing the metal and jazz elements to explore what the folk has to offer at its core. I cannot be unhappy when the energy of the faster tracks overwhelms me, and in the album's slower bits, I feel like a force is spinning me slowly and deliberately in a circle. Perhaps that's the Jewish element.

Grab your top hat, cravat, and leather pants, or you’re going to be under-dressed for this cage match among the accordion, fiddle, and saxophone.

It is a perfect conflation of sex, drugs, and religion, demonstrating the equally strong lure of all three influences on human behavior. The sleazy "reverend" is a smooth-talking charlatan, and his raspy voice over that lush beat would be too much for any down-on-his-luck, purple-tin-dependent bloke to resist. Remember, kids, if you want consciousness expansion, don't lie on the beach smoking dope. Go to your local tabernacle and sing!

It's like being initiated into a secret society. It's like entering the Underdark for the first time and standing there stunned at the alien beauty of it all. It's like watching Golgari priestesses create new life out of the fecund rot growing beneath the city streets.

Finnish bitches playing on the nyckelharpa and some homemade stringed instruments, or so goes the tale. I mean, you could ask them, but I hear they got sharp tongues, so probably best just to enjoy the weird-ish folk music trip through the slippery imagination of a child.

The kind of acoustic duo that can sing and play the listener into a trance. When the mysterious, rustic strings aren't weaving their own droning spell, they are executed perfectly in support of the playful, traditionally-cadenced vocals.