Reviews by kuvien

My goodness. There are very few obscure albums like this where I listen and think, "Damn! Did this influence a ton of music that came after and no one knows it?" I feel like the progressive elements of this pop album can be heard in music from the 21st century. Very very lyrically focused, but even if you don't understand the language, the music still slays.

The things I'll listen to for a listening party...

Though not as pagan as the most erotically fiery pagan music in my collection, this rather safe exploration of ritual, mystical themes does what it sets out to do. The first track is the real killer here, drawing me into epic themes the band is about explore. This album veers more toward the hard side, rather than the playful side, of prog rock.

One of those rock-solid unremarkable albums. Good, but sometimes you zone out. But when you come back to it, it's still good. I guess the thing nightingales and bombers have in common is that they both fly? And make sounds?

A whole heap of easily-forgotten pleasant nothing.

Gosh I sure hope she's wearing panties. Eh. Doesn't really matter anyway, since these guys are whiskeydicks.

Dude wrote this album during his exile in Chile, jamming with members of Los Jaivas as he explores the new culture he's living in as well as eulogizing what he left behind in Brazil. And, like all South American music worth its salt, this album has a Violeta Parra cover.

Manço helped pioneer a fusion of traditional Turkish sounds with Western rock music and sensibilities, and he did this without losing the Turkish character of his compositions. The use of such instruments as the yaylı tambur and the bağlama (variants of long-neck Turkish lutes) in the dreamier passages of the album evoke a more traditional Turkish than rock feeling. Since I cannot understand the language, I had to resort to reading explanations of the lyrics, and I found the centerpiece of side B, “Baykoca Destanı”, compelling. Apparently this multi-sectional song obliquely refers to the violent military coups in Turkey during the 60s and early 70s.

I needed a break from music, so I used this to reset my brain.

The inspiration for this lovely album--a blend of folk and pop without being folk pop, a mix of electronics and traditional acoustic instruments, with brilliant touches of Slovak polyphonic chant--was not only the folklore of Slovakia but the actual local region of a specific village and its "abandoned fields". Máliková draws on the lyrics of folk songs to compose her original compositions as she wanders the fog of her imagination.

If Alan Stivell is the courtyard minstrel, this band is his backup. This album wasn't made in a studio; it was made as a performance before the people of the keep. The matrons take a break from the breastfeeding of their infants to have a lively dance.

Feels timeless because of how rooted the music is in tradition. For me the highlight is the end of Side A, "Le luneux", a very simple yet beautiful folk tune with only a solitary female voice and sparse instrumentation. There's no room for error here, and the band nails it. I'm really glad they didn't bring drums into the mix. The hurdy gurdy, dulcimer, mandolin, violin, and crumhorn are just what this music needs. Amazing how one album can be so festive and so melancholy at the same time.

Five minutes into this album you will sit back and say “I’ve stumbled onto something special here”. So much passion, such mastery and mystery. And the way Males plays his guitar—making it sound almost harp-like! Even without understanding the language, I feel like this music is weaving an entire folk story around me, immersing me in something strange and wonderful.

A perfectly-titled album, as Makeba sings of disparate subjects like giving courage in battle or telling a child there's no food to eat, all performed with delicacy and understanding, no matter the genre. She croons, she wails, she clicks. One moment inspiring, another moment alluring.

This album is surreal, challenging, progressive, unexpected, beautiful, ugly, calm, and frantic. These musicians know what they're doing with all their instruments and with the variety of sounds they play with throughout, and they've got Mary Halvorson on vocals at least part of the time, so that's a big plus. This album is a sophisticated journey through music Animal Collective only wishes it could make. They go fringe on this album.

Bittová up to her usual vocal shenanigans, trilling and cackling and meowing and caterwauling (in the best sense of the word for those of us who have refined palates for the weird), adding her fiery violin work to Majstorović's exploration of ethnicity in music, taking inspiration from so-called "world music" as both artists improvise their way through a musical sojourn.

What COVID does to a mf.

I can’t understand a word they’re saying, so their voices become another instrument in my ears, expressing a poetry of delicacy and long pauses filled up by beautiful accordion music. This is peaceful, for death is the ultimate peace.

An inspiring listen; use this album as a refuge from the whirlwind of your hectic life. Then share it with a friend.

It’s everything you expect from a fusion master like McLaughlin, who was also friends with and worked with Miles Davis: complexity, playfulness, originality, and energy, all while not being afraid to improvise. This is a guitar-driven album, but I really like the keyboard interludes, creating cool oases of very different sound while the fire rages around them.