Reviews by kuvien

As lonesome as the hills, as warm as Loretta's embrace, as free as Perseus with his winged sandals. I first came to love some of these songs through Van Zandt's Live at the Old Quarter, so it's interesting to hear the studio cuts only after first hearing the intimate live recordings. This troubled country singer is better when he's pining and introspective than when he swaggers.

I first learned about Townes on a super toxic music forum filled with badly-behaved children and shit-slinging monkeys. But this one metalhead, who just happened to be the ringleader of miscreants and ne’er-do-wells, mentioned how much he loved Townes Van Zandt. I was intrigued that a metalhead would be a fan of country music, so I decided to check out Townes. I’m glad I did. He’s more singer/songwriter than country, which is probably why he’s got more music nerd fans than just straight country singers. Also he’s part of that Outlaw Country scene back in the day—part of it, but kind of parallel to it, too. Townes just did his own thing, and his thing is sweet in its sadness. Dude was a drug addict and alcoholic, and he died on New Year’s Day, just like Hank Williams.

This is the score for a French nature documentary, and it is Vangelis’ most successful release in the American market behind Blade Runner. This is a warm, meditative album that stands apart from its film, creating a peaceful, soothing atmosphere for the listener to wrap himself up in. An interesting aside: Jon Anderson pops in on the last track to play the harp.

The vocalist sounds a lot like Bowie in spots, adding, in my mind, a touch of the artistic and eccentric to the heaviness of this prog rock album, especially in the exploration of witchcraft in the Middle Ages. These kinds of dark themes proceed through the end of the album, with the apocalyptic scenario of a flood that wipes out civilization.

I’m always surprised by the vocals on this one, since Hammill decides not to sing as he does on earlier albums, instead experimenting with other vocal techniques such as simply talking or shouting. Nothing groundbreaking in that regard, but a clear departure from earlier work.

This is a schizophrenic musical journey through the mind of a manic-depressive, a man who doesn't know who he is, who wishes nothing more than to be alone, even when he's by himself, a man who has to decide if he's going to be a lemming, who blindly follows political propaganda, or a lighthouse keeper, who keeps the fire of truth burning for others to see as they, too, are tossed upon the dark waves of war.

Have you ever thought about how lonely Cthulhu must be, alone at the bottom of the sea, all the other fish afraid of him because he’s a killer, when all he wants in this world is a bit of companionship? Have you ever felt like Cthulhu? Have you memorized your lines for your next interpersonal encounter?

This one is a lot darker than the prog rock I’m used to. It deals with the horrors of war, like the whole world sleepwalks into bloody constraint and cannot wake from the nightmare. Some people find Hammill’s voice to be annoying, but I like it. It’s got character, and he’s got an easily-identifiable sound. Without those particular vocals, VDGG wouldn’t have the sound they have.

I give a fuck about an Oxford comma. It’s very important. It prevents ambiguity. Let’s say an author is writing a dedication for her book. She writes, “I’d like to dedicate this book to my parents, my editor and God.” Holy shit! The author’s parents are her editor and God?! I have so many questions. First, was it a virgin birth? So use the fucking Oxford comma, you dimwits!

If this album was merely the percussion pounding out the same beat in half-hour increments, it would get really annoying like a Terry Riley album, but the singsong cadence of the poetry over it evokes a strong sense of reaching out over long distances to find connections. Or from deep waters searching for anyone who might be living above. This music feels at home in uncharted territory others have tried to imitate but failed. Excellent music for whatever bullshit meditation you indulge in.

A beautiful, sylvan album of neo-Medieval instrumental songs. The perfect thing to listen to out in nature when the leaves are changing and you feel the earth about to enter its annual winter slumber.

Imagine you're snowed in suddenly, cozy inside an antique library with a group of wandering minstrels. The bards gather around the fire with their instruments, and you climb one of those ladders--you know the kind that slide in the long grooves--looking for just the right book. The troupe plays their mandolins and fiddles in the comfiest way, and even the vocalist of the troupe joins in sometimes, but it's an absentminded kind of participation, because she's found a book of her own to leaf through.

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It might be classified as folk, but it sure has its faster, rockier moments. My favorite parts are the tinny yet boisterous female backing chorus and the chaotic flutes found here and there throughout this short, rousing document.

Just one of those foreign language albums in my collection that I don’t understand the lyrical content of but greatly enjoy the pleasant arrangements of the folk. Craviola (a 12-string guitarish instrument) and dulcimer featured on this one.

So much hot blood flowing through this folk, angels with wings on fire. This album teeters between something more slick and something more earthy, something more produced and something more natural. Just let the butterflies fly.

I love the mesh of experimental rock and big band executed so well on this album. It'll go hard and crazy and guitars and drums, and then suddenly soften as flutes and organs come to the fore.

I love Markus Pajakkalas' debut album for this Utopianisti project from 2011 and have been underwhelmed by his other releases since... until now. I love how this album sounds both like and unlike that debut album ten years removed. Experimental rock is replaced, at least in part, by experimenting with Argentinian tango. Not at all the hard, full-on recording I was expecting, and this defiance of my expectations is a welcome discovery. Pajakkalas plays all the instruments on this album. Zany, unpredictable, and playful jazz fusion. Beautiful piano work.

Seven players meet by chance on a busy street and there in the heart of the urban chaos put on an improvised theatrical variety show expressing a traumatic, beautiful life from the cradle to the grave.

It's right there on the label: a jazz septet that grows together over three years, so on their sophomore release, they say they gel better, understand better when to give and take, when to weave free improvisation, and when to allow structured composition to take form and guide the music.