Reviews by kuvien

There was a time when we all thought Japan was going to take over the world. You youngsters have no idea because you weren't born yet, but the powerhouse of the Japanese economy during the Bubble Years was a sight to behold. It was an unstoppable juggernaut simultaneously feared and worshipped. Just look at films like Bladerunner or read a Vonnegut novel to find evidence of this obsession. This collection of commercial jingles is the soundtrack of that global takeover, from wristwatches to oolong tea, from tires to photocopiers. Quick fact: did you know that the tire maker's name is actually 石橋? But they thought Stonebridge sounded dumb in English, so they reversed it.

Key tracks: Tachikawa, Seiko 4, Ka-cho-fu-getsu

(I hate this. Damn tedious waste of three quarters of an hour, but I had to write something nice for an album exchange.)

I’m not saying anything new here when I point out that sides A and B are nothing alike, and that’s fine. But Side A is definitely the draw, a meandering with purpose, attention-gripping, 20-minute jam session driven by “African” grooves, certainly influenced by Shepp’s recent time in Algeria. This recording’s got members from Art Ensemble of Chicago featured on it

When I heard such a heavy use of the harmonica at the beginning, I thought, "huh, is this more of a blues album?" And then the braying tenor sax came in... and then Jeanne Lee opened her mouth, and I let her vocal organ just sweep me away with her raunchy jazz poetry. I think Shepp made a good call to put the balm in Gilead spiritual song right after Lee's epic takedown of her deadbeat lover. After all, the title track leaves an open wound, and nothing short of the miraculous will heal it. Shepp and Lee's cover of Ellington's piece is a sultry, easy-listening interlude nestled in among the album's original, rawer, freer compositions. The final track showcases Philly Joe Jones' rolling, rollicking drumming, since Lee said goodnight with "Sophisticated Lady".

This album is a beautiful mess, as if every ugly thing from its contemporary circumstances came tumbling out and--through the lens of an artist's vision, by the unpredictable arrangement of the detritus by a master's hand--coalesced into a powerful elegy for all those wasted lives, born out of everyday miracles and destroyed by everyday tragedies.

The rusty, broken waltz has always been for me a way to understand the intricate dance of everything and the music woven therein. This album explores that, with punctuated moments of bright alarm and artificial birds merrily chirping. Like his other work with Gentle Mystics, Cosmo creates a slippery record steeped in poetic allusion. Don't worry if this one wiggles out of your grasp like a shiny fish.

I wanna hear all these awesome guitarists lay down some music to Shatner's orgasmic moans from when Bezos shot him into space.

This is a well-produced and put-together spoken word album. Whenever I spin this, I feel like I'm just hanging out with the Shat. He's got tracks with a lot of energy like his cover of "Common People" or his duet with Henry Rollins, "I Can't Get Behind That", in which they both rant about all the shit that pisses them off in daily life. But he's also got some rather touching songs about an absent father meeting his adult daughters as well as what it means to be a famous person but think of yourself as just a normal dude.

Back when you had the freedom not to give a fuck, Sonny Sharrock recorded not only his wife's bewitching voice but some seriously weird, experimental shit. This is so good my elitist hipster friend said, as soon as I started playing it for him, he wanted me to burn him a copy. A beautiful cacophony through caves of primal wonder.

Pharoah Sanders on saxophone here, so there's that. This album's got a lot of variety in its themes, and it's not as avant as I thought it would be, what with its strong underpinnings of fusion and melodic bop. All good, though, especially considering the fire Sharrock still wielded in his middle age. His guitar is a torch.

Despite the growling, this album has a soothing, melodic core to it. Despite its slow rhythms, it is not plodding. Beautiful synthesizers play right alongside heavy guitars. Is it weird that I don't hear pessimism or death in the music? Perhaps there is an underlying sense of hope in the themes of death. It's all rather uplifting, actually.

South Asian music opening with "Jumpin Jack Flash". Oh shame, where is thy blush?

I imagine this is the conversation they had backstage before this concert:

"I can play fast."
"Seriously, bro, how fast can you play?"
"Fast."
"All right, bro, but can you meditate?"
"Just wait til the second half of the show. I can meditate faster than anyone!"

Everything on this sounds just fantastic—the violin, the guitar, everything. Just terrific! Good thing it’s not any longer—I’m not sure how much awesomeness I can take at one sitting. burp

Heavy on the saxophone as tone setter and pace maker, this double album is led by Shabaka Hutchings, whose got his talented fingers in a couple of pies you might have heard of: The Comet Is Coming and Sons of Kemet. And then he has this project going. The horns really come together in a kind of unity found only in afro-jazz (at least to my untrained ears), almost like a chant when not soloing, infecting the music with an unconquerable joy amid islands of the spiritual meditation.

Shabaka Hutchings style of jazz is conscious, almost crusading, coming with a message, an exhortation to change. In this case, to alter humanity's course as we careen toward world destruction.

This is music teleported from one chamber to another, but there was a fly in the booth when the experiment took place, and now the music has evolved into an insectoid monstrosity. Don't be alarmed when you find whole fingernails peeled off in the sink.

What is ugly? Vain repetition, for starters. I closed my eyes and let the music do its work: it stifled and oppressed my spirit, and it drained from my heart's core all my happiness.

Dear South Korea, please population implode a little faster. kthxbye

Cities are weird. They have a lot of allure, but they make men crazy. The thing is, once you’ve been in a city long enough, you don’t see the madness anymore. You’re part of it. You shrug in disinterest when you hear of yet another suicide.

When you tackle complex topics through folk music, approaching them with the wisdom of a man but the simplicity of a child is perhaps the most effective way to get your message across, the most satisfying way to express yourself. Impressive what he does with his instrumentation.