Reviews by kuvien

Side B is solid, but side A is sublime, wherein the music does more than just breathe—it moves in and out like the waves of the sea, pulled by mysterious, tidal forces.

Super happy kids music for adults. Not afraid to throw English and French into the upbeat mix. In some ways this reminds me a little bit of that Soviet-era space-age pop. But this is more like life as a video game, from the people who started it all.

Pretty great party music, especially if you're one of those types who goes in for themes. Let your next party theme be "turn of the decade 80s", and make sure to dress embarrassingly appropriately. And don't skimp on the hairspray. This would make some sweet game music.

Former Huun-Huur-Tu member uses the folkloric Tuvan throat singing as a stepping-off point to explore how his cultural music can blend with and enhance the more mainstream genres of folk and rock, and on this album, he does a brilliant job of maintaining what he is without sacrificing his artistic integrity. Indeed, he understands music's mightiest strength: its syncretic nature.

Despite being so dense, the forest holds a lot of discrete sounds, an unending moment of silence punctuated continually by abrupt utterances, such as the cry of a bird or the growl of a cat. A reigning silence interrupted by rain dripping on leaves, of a branch breaking somewhere far off, of insects whirring. And at the center of it all is a sound more mysterious than all of that: the human voicing singing and chanting. And when the music switches to high, breathy flutes and thundering drums, I instantly knew the location had changed from forest to mountaintop.

I dig this kind of authentic, mysterious folk music from a world not my own but one I recognize as ancient and profound. I love the ritualistic sounds steeped in Mediterranean culture. A quiet, minimal record.

This is the third collaboration of a Greek singer and lute player and an Australian drummer playing kritika, the traditional music of Crete. The Greek dude sings throughout this album, and there are a lot of interesting sparse moments with not much more than his voice, bringing about a kind of invocation to close the album.

This album is full of powerful moments of just gruff vocals and thrumming percussion, going from minimal to full sound and then back again, with an almost religious quality to the invocative vocals. The instrumental parts feel like a slow, ritualistic march through an ancient, dusty land.

Not even Mary could save this pretentious crap.

I've got a friend who's stuck in the 80s. I mean, he collects some really rare and expensive limited-edition cassettes and 7" vinyl, and I can respect that level of dedication to some pretty obscure stuff. A lot of what he listens to is utter shite, and I've wondered how I can introduce him to some contemporary stuff, to help him update his shitty collection of shit. This album will do nicely.

[List702062]

Wynette's voice is so sweet and heartbreaking, perfectly crafted for that sappy Nashville sound that you can forgive for its sappiness. And if you weren't prepared for the inevitable divorce, you weren't really listening to Side A. All that crooning about the relationship problems, like saying you love me through the day but leaving me all night long. The only thing that really left me scratching my bald head is the inclusion of the "Yesterday" cover. I guess the great thing about this album is the progression of the main theme: the songs before and after the title track match the before and after of a failed relationship. In that way, it's kind of a concept album.

Easy listening avant-prog if there ever was. The cozy saxophone could rock me to sleep on a lazy afternoon. The last track is probably my favorite because of its off-kilter musical qualities, the strange phrasing of the vocals, the quiet playfulness of it all.

Lyrically, this is a highly political album of direct social commentary, pulling no punches when it sings of land theft and the exploitation of workers by the ruling class, here in this era of mass media propaganda where words are weapons robbing us of their assumed meaning. Musically it is Wyatt at his most intimate and isolated, slippery, requiring a close listen to get a handle on. But it's worth it!

On this album, Wyatt uses his wife's poetry as the lyrics. Like the songwriter himself, the wife seems to have a real hard-on for criticizing religion any chance she gets. Their mutual disgust must have brought them together; I'm sure it was the subject of much pillow talk. Lazy (in a good way), minimal jazz with its interesting yawning sound effects. Mix in some politics and paranoia, and you've got a great Robert Wyatt album. My favorite part is the meta consideration Wyatt has for his listeners, giving them 30 seconds of silence and inviting them to take a break if their ears are tired. I guess 74 minutes is a long album.

Those lazy horns set the mood right at the beginning, an almost melancholic hope. It’s hard to imagine just how difficult a feat it is to love someone just as he is—to the eyes of others, it’s often seen as a thing as foolish as waving to trains that no longer run. The album starts off as quite personal and moves into more communal concerns of religion and polite society. Wyatt sings about beautiful days more than once on this album, and I wonder if it’s a situation of “the lady doth protest too much”.

My good friend roleplays and draws the same way this band makes music: with a lot of skill, and every scenario is this overdramatic "never give in, never give up" situation. Good guy, good music.

Oh man! I forgot this was in my collection. My wife and daughter had never heard it before, and they really dug it. Of course, they’re Tolkien nerds and fans of prog metal, so this was an unexpected treat on a Sunday evening.

Lo-fi beats to drive to while smoking cigarettes.

The modern world is a curse.

This is a treat, though perhaps it's a little too long for some. Hurtbreak Wonderland is a wild ride through a post-rock soundscape that is underpinned by two main influences: modern classical and glitch. I found the juxtaposition fascinating, for there are moments of soaring, uplifting violins punctuated by nails on chalkboards. It's even got a couple episodes of playful tweeness about it (but I'd expect nothing less from a Japanese artist).