Reviews by kuvien

An equal-opportunity offender, Zappa brutally takes down not only contemporary American Christians but also fake Tinseltown punk bands. Damn, he really hates record executives, as well as shagging disco culture, doesn't he? This is an exquisite live bootleg without a dull moment, even in Zappa's skit-like breakdowns. I get the feeling that live Zappa is more Zappa than studio Zappa. The Buffalo 1980 bootleg was made into an archival release in 2007.

If I were a betting man, I would lay a bar of gold-pressed latinum that if this woman sang this kind of crap in front of a Klingon warrior who just happened to have his bat'leth nearby, she would be dispatched to her eternal homeland.

It's like after he dropped a bunch of metal poles, he hit record and gathered them all up. Then the machine stacks them all back up.

I feel like I'm in a TCG shop in Japan.

Trevor's 1989 but more self-indulgent.

Starbucks worldbeat.

A lot of this album is searching for a relationship that works, where love makes you soar, but it seems to be as enigmatic a search as understanding the pyramids of Egypt or trying to get a hold of an unbiased version of history.

Sooooo awkward it gave me second-hand embarrassment. Everything bad decision that could have made this album bad was made.

I almost never care for live albums, and this isn't the exception. I like only a couple Young albums anyway. Also, newsflash, Mr. Young: rock n roll died.

A collection of alternate takes and rarities of songs that will be released on later albums. Basically, this an unreleased studio album from 1977. Everyone talks about this version of "Powderfinger", and for good reason: it's raw and stripped down of everything except emotion. You can't stay a child forever, but the day you become a man... that's the day you die. Life is, sometimes, just an impossible situation.

Everything you need to know about this album is right there in the B side title: slowly spinning midstream on a raft in the late afternoon. That's where I part ways with the songwriter. This is not noon music. Late afternoon at the earliest, but definitely a hot summer day. Meandering, flute-laden tambourine-tinged lazy jazz.

When you're small enough time that you don't have to give a fuck, and so you can make something exactly the way you want, with all the minimal silliness you want. This album is rated low as of now only because it's never been reissued. But as soon as some bearded hipsters reissue this album, everyone will suddenly act like this is a wonderful forgotten gem.

Back a few years ago there was this kind of arms race among music bloggers as they crate-dug, ripped, and shared their rare and obscure records. I’m pretty sure this was one of those thousands of albums to finally see the light of the internet day. Anyway, we’re all richer for that race, because albums like this have been discovered. So what about the music contained herein: echoing flutes dubbed over themselves, sparse guitars, vocal experimentation, freaky playful saxophones and upright bass.

Some woman (or women) did Dwight wrong. Some guys just don't do well when it comes to the opposite sex. They are slain by their charms, and they are fools for love. Dwight is one of those unfortunate souls, but damn it makes for great sad country songs. "Ain't That Lonely Yet" is a contender for best country song ever written. Its astounding lyrics and the way Dwight sings it with such mournful defiance never fail to amaze me no matter how many times I listen to the song.

One of the endearing hallmarks of Yoakam's music is how the fiddles punctuate the end of his lyrical phrases. They play heartstrings as much as they do the strings of the violins. Dwight is also a master at using sudden pauses to great dramatic effect. So turn this one on, turn it up, as the music--as strong as booze--turns you loose! You'll be drinking more tears than beer by the time you're done.

You gotta love a country singer with the kind of hip edge to give Nashville the middle finger and head out to L.A. to make a name for himself, financing his own first EP (that turned into this album). Tinsel-tinged country, all with Yoakam's own unique voice and oh-so attractive vocal twang, but still retaining those Kentucky roots. I mean, he sings about coal mines.

This archival release (they couldn't get a label to pick them up) sounds a lot more like Yes and Gentle Giant, especially in the vocals, than their first album, but still Yezda Urfa is different enough in idiosyncratic style to separate themselves musically from their influences. The album starts full-on but then pulls back into a more sylvan feel with sparse piano, lilting flute, and gentle harmonies set with uncommon time signatures.

This is a creative and engaging piece of prog rock without losing its playfulness, meaning I don't think this band takes itself too seriously. There's a lot of great musicianship on display here, as good as anything else in the genre. An underrated album from a band that had only one studio release. A gem to be sure.

If only I was younger... have fun with this one, kids.

The lands the antediluvians tread are under water, and we latter sons of the Earth walk upon the high plateaus of the world and call them lowlands. What mysteries, what pre-histories do the waves hide forever from our memory? The Nephilim are entombed on high hilltops deep beneath the sea, in shadows more impenetrable than the darkest regions of space.