Reviews by kuvien

A compendium of snippets of spoken word from and compositions written for Hungarian films from the 80s through the 90s, this album is an interesting, if disjointed, journey into a world of film I know nothing about. Full of lovely vistas of music, everything in this is cozy and close, with charming accordion work.

A voice, a guitar, and occasionally an accompanying flute explore nueva canción latinoamericana, a politically-charged singer-songwriter folk tradition whose message permeates this gentle, delicate music right from the start. Recorded partially in Uruguay, partially in France, where he later lived in political exile, this album spotlights Viglietti's beautiful voice, itself an instrument full of nuance and passion.

A bit of spoken word verses with sung choruses, a splash of oboe and bassoon, even adding in some drum work. An expansion from what he was doing two years before this album, but still very minimal in its approach, still focused on the vocals, the guitar, and, of course, the message. As far as I can tell, these are supposed to be considered subversive songs by conservatives. Viglietti even sings of robbers who steal and give to the poor, the kind of young men who are executed by a corrupt government. I'm pleased to hear a beautiful, lively Violeta Parra cover here.

It’s got elements of noise rock in it, and I hate noise rock (lookin’ at you, Sonic Youth), so if I love this album so much—and I do—they must be doing something right. Perhaps it’s Nico’s mitigating folk influence? I really can’t put my finger on why I love this album. Perhaps it’s having heard “Heroin” before hearing the whole album and just sitting there dumbfounded at that viola. My wife just pointed out to me that I clearly love this album because it’s one of the few that, when I spin it, I always have some new comment on. This time it was the hypnotic structure of “Venus in Furs”, a song I want to hear while stumbling home at sunrise after all-night revelry.

The Velvet Underground were dropped from their label in part because their third album was a commercial failure, and when they were picked up by a different label to record their fourth (and final album with Lou Reed as part of the band--though he left before it was finished), they were instructed to load it with hits. Thus, Loaded was made, and in typical Reed fashion, he gives the middle finger to the music industry, showing how effortlessly he can pen pop tracks despite his reputation as an avant-garde artist. A pretty badass singalong album!

Although 100 years haven't passed yet, at the time of this writing, I am listening to this live album 54 years after the recordings were made. And yes, I do lecture on rock n roll history, albeit at the university and not the junior high level. Close enough for the kids, right? Anyone still out there living in the edge? Got nothing left in your life but rock n roll? How honest has your journey been so far? Detected any lies? Reed still sounds great, and the band is minimally tight, as usual. Cale is notably absent from all these performances.

Monkey have ambient, monkey use tool, monkey groan.

Like sleepwalking through someone else's dream.

Barely longer than an EP, this album is short enough for anyone who just wants to kick back with a set of cute, playful little toe-tapping tunes that have plenty of varied instrumentation packed in to keep things interesting. I mean, at one point, someone's banging on milk and spaghetti pots as percussion. This'll resonate, even if you don't understand Portuguese.

Rock and pop veneer laid over a Finnish folk structure. Excellent tight vocals here, full of energy and joy. Even a touch of throat singing on a couple tracks.

I've been a fan of this band/collective for years, so it's kind of strange for me to finally hear their debut after all this time. This was self-released on cassette back in 1987, before the fusion of different musical elements in their work, before their maturity. And that's fine. Sometimes a folkhead wants to hear folk that's simpler, straight, stripped-down, direct from the people to my ears.

Two things: the music does indeed rotate like a spindle, and the voices weave tales in the form of sung poems. A delightful mix of original lyrics and music blended with traditional tunes and poetry. However, starting off strong with an undeniably catchy traditional folk song is what hooks me.

Infectiously-happy music, inviting even the most graceless person to dance. Beautiful quintuple female vocals blending in close harmony to one another, following the strains of the kantele. There's not a lot of nuance here, but I don't think nuance is the point. This is Finnish hoe-down music, Scandinavian bluegrass, if you will.

Freaky chanted female vocals that are a cappella some of the time, meaning everything is carried on the nuances of how they chant in close harmonies and how they make percussive sound effects with their lips and tongues. The kantele (a kind of Finnish zither) provides the backbone of these sung poems. I love when folklore and music intersect. Wild laughter and many wonderfully rolled Rs. The whole thing isn't traditional folk from beginning to end, though. There are clearly some strong contemporary folk parts later on.

Tinges of folk pop and rock throughout that aren't present in their preceding album. Definitely a fun fusion of folk and more recognizable pop sounds, like the warm saxophone and bright, strummed guitar. Like grafting pop flesh onto a folk skeleton. The bouzouki, fiddle, and kantele are still here, though, keeping the recording rooted in its Finnish folk tradition. A little more background on this music: Värttinä are from Rääkkylä, near the Russian (and thus Karelian) border and are thus influenced by Karelian folk music. Their vocabulary, therefore, is also probably influenced by Karelian.

This album is a person exploring a haunted castle, except that the person also lives there. There is life everywhere, and sunshine, and plants, and laughing children. But you can also perceive the spirits in the corridors and rooms. They're not haunting in a scary way. They just live there, the same as you do. The shadow world moves alongside ours, and it's beautiful.

گوش [Googoosh] factors heavily on this compilation, and I’m going to be looking into more of her stuff. As it reads on the tin, this is a small collection of music from the 60s and 70s in Iran, that is, music before the Islamic Revolution of 1979. A lot of Westerners have a certain image of Iran, but it was a completely different country back in the time this music was made, and I can’t help but wonder how it would’ve continued to develop had it not been trampled by the oppressive adherents of an intolerant religion. I’m woefully ignorant of Persian pop, and I’ve only heard a bit of Persian classical music (which I adore). The music on this compilation is clearly a blend of Western pop sensibilities with Persian instruments and expressions. This is more authentic than a co-opted sitar, especially with the fascinating explorations of traditional vocal forms. Overall, this is a charming addition to my collection.

One of those albums that you can't help singing along with, and their version of the old Child ballad "Man of Constant Sorrow" is just an earworm. This is a soundtrack that I can enjoy apart from the film, steeping myself in the rustic and poor American experience of a century past. The closer, "Angel Band", is unquestionably the most powerful and moving song on the album, a lovely meditation on death and what comes after.

The root-canal of music.

This turd makes sound good.