Reviews by kuvien

If you're prone to space sickness, it might be wise to give this journey a miss because this is hyperspace jazz, twisting time and space around the music and spitting you out in a far sector of the galaxy inside out. And when you arrive, things are no less bewildering as you encounter life and language, but not as you know them. In case you missed it the first eight hundred times they said it, space is the place. The place for the weird.

This album once gave me a random music showerthought: there's prog rock, prog pop, prog folk etc etc but there's no "progressive jazz". I guess that's because jazz is by nature progressive? I guess I thought this because I had been listening to a lot of 50s jazz at the time, and it sounds more straightforward than this album. Also, my ears were starting to be able to pick out jazz elements, so I can hear earlier influences as a base for fusion. This album goes off the rails so delightfully in spots, and that last track is like a jazz seance inside a flying saucer.

I think the jazz itself is what we see bopping center-stage under the spotlight, but it's its silhouette that's back there jigging and jagging in avant-garde twirls. Look for that, and enjoy the layers.

I wasn't prepared for how... normal this sounds, how... cool it is. That's right: the most "taboo" name in jazz makes a pretty normal album, meditative and calm, content to kick back and rein things in for a bit with only piano, bass, and drums. All around easy on the ears, soothing for the soul, though there are, of course, tempestuous moments. But they pass like rain on the hillside.

This one leaps and dances with all the wild precision of a naked flame. No vocals, nothing plugged in. In a way this reminds me of the charming chamber play of Penguin Café Orchestra, where rhythm is primarily kept by the interplay of the stringed instruments. This album tiptoes and gallops and falls to the ground laughing. Considering the neo-Medieval cast to a lot of the folk here, don't think you're going to be getting a traditional Brazilian folk album. Still, this is a fun listen, and it might just turn your frown upside down.

A lovely little one-and-done release filled with traditional Andean music, some of which the band created lyrics for. This album is as dirty and rustic as it gets, complete with uncouth dances and barnyard noises. An excellent recording of musicians who know what they're doing, are comfortable doing it, and are having a blast laughing, whistling, and trilling.

This outfit is basically the Italian modern classical version of Jethro Tull. The flutes are wild, with moments of violin smoothness, and after all the guitars noodling and rocking out, the album ends with a beautiful, delicate moment of classical piano and strings.

Translated as “the time of joy”, this album’s wonderful contents packed into a mere 34 minutes indeed comprise a time of joy. This album is reflective of the band’s career: short and productive, not wasting any time in getting their musical message across. There are some pretty mindblowing psychedelic moments here, actually, and I love the way the whole thing ends in some brakes-screeching discordant crash.

Fuck you, 1001-album guy.

Turns out Björk is a performative listener just like the rest of us. Anyone know her RYM user profile?

The first track is standard prog rock fare—which I have plenty of—but the second track takes a step back and plays around with strong but erratic guitar chords, some kind of weird percussion, and some bells or something. Basically, they let the space speak for itself, and I really like that in music. Don’t be afraid to saw a plank of wood and use the sound as part of your meandering song. Add in some weird lo-fi spoken-word interludes, and you’re golden.

Not much synthpop in my collection, and this one seems to be an album pretty much disregarded by music nerds. Too bad, because it’s chill, fun, and beautiful. It’s not some amazing, engaging piece of art like a lot of the albums in my collection, but sometimes it’s nice to spin something that requires nothing more from me than to mindlessly relax and enjoy.

One of those albums shitty enough that the shitty band releases almost the whole album as shitty singles.

As soon as this album opens, I can tell it's not for me. Child ballad-type folk should be more rustic and unpolished, not slick, keyboard-driven concert-hall reinterpretations for the middle class. All production, no genuine fire. And when the electric guitar solos, folkheads weep. As this album goes on, I become increasingly dismayed by the soulless delivery, how the instrumentation, arrangements, and presentation suck every bit of life out of these folk songs. "Folk" music for the masses. If this was what I thought folk was. I'd hate it.

Some American Hare Krishna kids grow up and make an album based on the avant music and foreign philosophies that nurtured them, proclaiming that their eastern mysticism is not just some curious dalliance but can be relevant in the lives of the modern listener. This is what a year at art college will do to impressionable minds.

Greatest hits artist

Along with and, Prince completes the trinity of artists whose studio albums just aren't good enough to listen to on their own but who have an amazing collection of songs that make for a stellar greatest hits collection.

A touch bluesy, a touch psychedelic—tune in, tune out, etc.

This kinda sucks. Not sure why I expected anything else.

The worst moment is when Elvis sings "Fever". wtf

Side A one song, Side B one song (basically). This is an excellent debut long-form exploratory prog. Really all over the place, if that's your thing. The manic repetition of discordant notes only serves to heighten your sense of growing fear.