Tamanho: 57,7 MBLink:King Diamond - Them (1988)Faixas:1. 'Out from the Asylum' – 1:482. 'Welcome Home' – 4:353.
'The Invisible Guests' – 5:034. 'Tea' – 5:135. 'Mother's Getting Weaker' – 4:006. 'Bye Bye Missy' – 5:067. 'A Broken Spell' – 4:078. 'The Accusation Chair' – 4:209.
'Them' – 1:5510. 'Twilight Symphony' – 4:0811.
'Coming Home' – 1:1112. 'Phone Call' (bonus track) – 1:3813. 'The Invisible Guests' (rehearsal, bonus track) – 5:1914. 'Bye, Bye Missy' (rehearsal, bonus track) – 4:48.
007 (Shanty Town) - Desmond DekkerMellow Yellow - DonovanDedicated To The One I Love - The Mamas and The PapasBeggin' - The Four SeasonsHip Hug-Her - Booker T & The MGsWe're A Winner - The ImpressionsA Question Of Temperature - The Balloon FarmStrange Brew - CreamTried So Hard - Gene ClarkItchycoo Park - Small FacesGroovin' - The RascalsHave You Seen Her Face - The ByrdsDear Eloise - The HolliesCome On Down To My Boat - Every Mother's SonTrip To Your Heart - Sly and the Family Stonemeant to play: Call Any Vegetable - Mothers of Invention. Prince Regent and the Sweethearts – 2nd SetVegetables Beach BoysFire Jimi Hendrix ExperienceWhite Rabbit Jefferson AirplaneSure 'Nuff 'n' Yes I Do Captain BeefheartI'm Waiting For The Man Velvet Underground(I'm Not Your) Stepping Stone The MonkeesNobody But Me The Human BeinzGimme Some Lovin' Spencer Davis GroupI Heard It Through The Grapevine Gladys Knight & The PipsBernadette The Four TopsSgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise) BeatlesThe Flesh Failures (Let The Sunshine In) Hair. Sam and Dave - Soul ManVan Morrison - Brown Eyed GirlMarvin Gaye/Tammi Terrell - Ain't No Mountain High EnoughJohnny Cash/June Carter - JacksonProcol Harum (or Alton Ellis, or the Everly Brothers or.) - A Whiter Shade of PaleJames Carr - The Dark End of the StreetSly & The Family Stone - Dance To The MusicPierre Henry - Psyche RockLouis Prima - I Wanna Be Like You from The Jungle BookBob Dylan - You Ain't Going Nowhere; I Shall Be ReleasedCountry Joe and the Fish - Feel-Like-I'm-Fixing-To-Die Rag. This was a #3 hit single and was also on their THIRD album of the year, the oh-so-1967-titled Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn and Jones, Ltd. It was written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin which explains a lot about why it's so awesome.(Their other major writing credit of the year was Aretha's 'Natural Woman,' which might be one of my top 5 favorite songs ever.) But a good chunk of it is also down to the instrumental performances, the best of which - that killer lead guitar riff and the neat piano figure in the bridge – were indeed actually played by Monkees. One of t he more surprising elements of the story presented in the film is the involvement of Larry Cleveland Reed, a member of the R&B group the Dramatics.
(Apparently, there were actually two members of the Dramatics there during the incident, though the movie only shows one.) Reed's presence gives the filmmakers an opportunity to inject some music, including this song – which was indeed a 1967 single – and creates a narrative link to the most notable musical force in Detroit at the time, which was of course Motown records. 1967 was a transitional year for Motown: there were still plenty of hits to be sure (including several all-time killer jams that we'll be performing next Saturday.!), but most of my favorite, iconic 'classic era' Motown singles came earlier, while the edgier, more experimental and progressive stuff didn't get started until '68 (the Supremes' 'Love Child'; the Temptations' 'Cloud Nine,' etc.), which was also the year that Berry Gordy started shifting the whole operation to LA – a move inspired at least partly by the '67 Riots. Not unrelatedly, 1967 also marked the end of Motown's relationship with Holland-Dozier-Holland, who had written many of the label's biggest hits. But while the original is great I'd say this one gets a slight edge thanks to the gritty, desperate vocals of Lynval 'Eddie' Spencer, a Jam aican-born singer who settled in Toronto after touring there with a ska band earlier in the decade. (I first heard it on the great Light in the Attic compilation Jamaica to Toronto: Soul Funk & Reggae 1967-1974 – evideyntly there were enough such transplants to make up a scene very worthy of documenting.) I'll have more to say about Jamaica before this series is through. Meanwhile, an equally ridiculous bounty of iconic soul grooves were being laid down at FAME studios down in Alabama, including timeless work by Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett, both Northerners who were sent to record there by Atlantic's Jerry Wexler. Leonard Chess (of Chess records) did the same for Etta James, effectively rebooting her career with this fiery, indelible anthem – a slight tweak of Clarence Carter's 'Tell Daddy' (does it really count as an 'answer record' if all you do is switch the genders?) – as well as the eponymous full-length that followed in early '68.
I know very little about Miriam Makeba, although she was clearly a highly fascinating, multifaceted figure. (Did you know she was married to Stokely Carmichael?) Anyway, this song was a #12 hit in the US, and it's not hard to hear why, even if listeners at the time had next to no context for African music. (Save, I guess, for 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' aka 'Wimoweh,' which Makeba also recorded, in its original Zulu, on her first album in 1960.) If anything, she initially reached an American audience in more of a folk context (she did a Grammy-winning 1965 LP in collaboration with her longtime supporter Harry Belafonte), but this is a pop song through and through. From 'Johannesburg way' to Kingston town. Down in Jamaica, '67 was the heyday of the relatively slow, deeply groovy genre of rocksteady – essentially, the link between ska and reggae – which originated in 1966 and was on the way out by 1968. Though short-lived, the style gave us plenty of enduring, oft-covered island classics, including Alton Ellis' 'I'm Still In Love With You,' Desmond Dekker's '007 (Shanty Town),' Dandy Livings tone's 'Rudy, A Message To You' and the Paragon's 'Tide Is High' (all originally from 1967.). 'A Whiter Shade of Pale,' as the original song is properly titled, was the debut single for England's Procol Harum and, obviously, by far its most successful.
(Though they did have a couple of other hits I'd never heard of.) My dad recently picked up a two-CD set of the band's first four albums, which DOESN'T include 'Whiter Shade,' even as a bonus track – it's slightly mind-boggling to me that such an item exists. (Their rationale for leaving the song off their debut LP, which didn't come out 'til '68, was essentially 'well, if The Beatles can do it.'
It's not hard to see why it caught on (for one thing, organs were seemingly as zeitgeisty in 1967 as they were in 1667), but also why its success was hard to duplicate – what's harder to divine is why it works as well as it does. It seems like it should come across as numbingly pretentious, what with all that flowery, allusive, high-minded lyrical poetry and the proto-Prog Bach-cribbing harmonic complexity – yet it manages to feel at once solemn and sprightly. Even after five decades of overplay there's something fresh about it. I guess that's just the magic of 1967. The Who, for instance, had an(other) amazing year in 1967, which they closed out by releasing probably the best concept album of the year, The Who Sell Out – the best, in part, because its concept is actually rea sonably coherent: it's designed to resemble a continuous broadcast from a pirate radio station (which were outlawed in the UK in August '67), complete with station jingles and 'fake' advertisements (some for real products) which blur into the actual songs.
It's the only album I know of to inspire (and deserve!) a full-length one-woman a-cappella cover version. (By the inimitable Petra Haden – absurdly ambitious and well worth hearing.).
One of my favorite '60s songwriters, Margo Guryan is probably best known for her 1967 song 'Sunday Morning,' recorded by Spanky & Our Gang among several others (but not to be confused with a certain other '67 'Sunday Morning'.) This one was recorded by (and commissioned for) Claudine Longet, a coquettish chanteuse with a rather colorful life story. But I much prefer Guryan's own version, which is techni cally a publisher's demo; undoubtedly recorded in 1967, but never released before it appeared on a (fantastic) 2001 compilation. So what was going on during the Summer of Love in the City of Brotherly Love? 1967 marked the end of Cameo/Parkway records, the local powerhouse which had been home to the likes of Chubby Checker, Bobby Rydell, Dee Dee Sharp, The Orlons ('South Street') and apparently?
And the Mysterians (who were from Michigan.) But it was also the year of the first Gamble/Huff hit, The Soul Survivors' still-killer 'Expressway To Your H eart' (released on Jerry Blavat's Crimson label) and, as such, the true beginning of the Philadelphia International story. Lou Barlow is a legit legend – if, as he’d probably prefer it, of the little-“l” variety – and every bit as much of an old-guard indie-rock lifer as Malkmus or Pollard or, say, his old nemesis J Mascis. If he lacks much of those dudes’ cachet and practically any of their mystique, put it down to his unassuming, emphatically casual persona, as reflected by his preferred aesthetic modes, both aural and visual: low-key, low-strung, lower-case (and hand-written) – and, naturally, lo-fi. Historically speaking, at least. Brace the Wave, like the two previous Lou Barlow LPs, is a notably more polished and considered affair than his erstwhile Sentridoh offerings, though it captures a comparable sense of intimacy and immediacy.
(Elliott Smith’s Either/Or is a decent reference point, sonically and otherwise.)Given the prolificacy (and, y’know, lenient self-editing) of Barlow’s home-taping decades, it’s telling that, even trailing his last album by six years (which saw the continuation of successful reunions for both Sebadoh and Dinosaur Jr.) this outing contains a mere nine songs. Frill-free cover on down, this is a deliberately small record: trim, but hardly slight.
Kurt Wagner – Lambchop mainbrain and inveterate Nashville weirdo – is not entirely a newbie to beat-based music (peep the early experiments and remixes cached on 2001’s Tools in the Dryer comp) but he’s probably one of the last people you’d expect to find making an, er, electronica album in 2015. As opposed to, say, 1997, when basically everyone was messing around with dubious bleeps and drum loops.HeCTA, Wagner’s amiably befuddled new project, evokes some of the what-the-hey knob-twiddling spirit of that happily bygone era, layering his familiarly laconic musings (and, in one instance, a sliced-up old Buddy Hackett routine) atop an assortment of dense, not especially subtle (nor, incidentally, very danceable) beatscapes. It’s pretty weird.
Not necessarily any weirder than your average Lambchop record, although it is, for the most part, considerably less gorgeous. (Perhaps tellingly, The Diet is best at its mellowest – the warm, poignant synth-pop of “Sympathy for the Auto Industry”; the almost Books-ish chamber-glitch “We Are Glistening.”) Decidedly – and by design – a curiosity, but worth seeking out for those who enjoy such things. Originally published in Magnet Magazine. Stuff Like That There (Matador) is our darling Yo La Tengo’s gentlest, sleepiest album; a significant distinction, considering stiff competition from 2013’s understated stunner Fade, 2003’s underrated Summer Sun, and 1990s Fakebook, the curveball fan-fave whose template – an acoustic, country-tinged smattering of covers, self-covers, and a couple new originals – they’re blatantly revisiting here.
Ira Kaplan has called this move the crassest thing they’ve ever done, but retracing familiar footsteps – complete with Fakebook-era guitarist Dave Schramm – makes it, if anything, all the more endearingly personal. So lay back, relax, enjoy this “an evening with” business, just don’t get too cozy – they’ll totally bring the blazing feedback-solo epics next time around. Right??Bad Bad Hats/MynabirdsIndie Pop. Lovers Know (Saddle Creek), Laura Burhenn’s atypically glossy third Mynabirds album, marks a further stride away from her debut’s rootsy, gospel-tinged stylings in favor of familiarly synth-kissed mid-tempo/mid-budget mid-‘10s “indie”, while retaining her sturdy, world-weary anthemism. Nobody’ll mistake her for Dusty Springfield this time out – Florence Welch is more likely. I get a little Sundays/Blake Babies vibe, meanwhile, from Psychic Reader (Afternoon), the debut by Minneapolis’ Bad Bad Hats; its jangly sweetness tempered by pleasantly spiky power-pop moves and Kerry Alexander’s lightly raspy, Lana Del Rey-ish alto.
Thee Oh SeesRock/PsychMutilator Defeated at Last (Castle Face), this year’s Oh Sees episode – they've reliably issued one album (or more) annually since 2006, last year’s putative “hiatus” notwithstanding – sure sounds victorious. And it is indeed a triumph: one of the band’s strongest outings yet, despite (or perhaps due to) representing a significant retreat from their typically coarse, blistering garage-psych assault. Fear not: John Dwyer and co. Still bring the flamethrowing guitar-scrawl and regular bouts of gnarly, contortionist punk-scuzz – they’re just tempered here by atypical levels of moody, kraut-blues nuance and (relative) polish; even, on murky seven-minute centerpiece “Sticky Hulks,” some downright pretty organ playing.Godspeed You! Black EmperorPost-RockThese ineffable Quebecois cranks – the po-faced agitprop mystics with the goofball moniker – came juddering out of semi-retirement in 2010, still nine strong, the fury, passion and esoteric allure of their towering instrumental manifestations undimmed by the typical reunion rock hokum. This year’s Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress (Constellation) is a continuous full-album suite that traverses familiar tropes (dramatically building, buzzing drones) and some curveballs (unexpectedly sanguine opener “Peasantry” lurches toward a drunken, folksy jam-along) in satisfying, if admittedly succinct fashion.
This is their first Philly show in over a decade not to sell out months in advance, if only because it now seems clear they’ll be around for awhile.Sturgill SimpsonCountry/Psych. Sturgill Simpson’s gently genre-muddling 2014 breakthrough, Metamodern Sounds in Country Music (Thirty Tigers), introduced just a dropperful of psych into its earnestly reverential honky-tonk. Lead single “Turtles,” despite flanger-dosed references to psilocybin and reptile aliens, sets a tone with its Elvis in Memphis guitars and Waylon Jennings twang that mostly hold sway throughout the spirited boot-scootin’ shuffles (plus one tear-stained synth-pop cover) that follow. It’s not until the backmasking, cavernous reverb and resplendent fuzz-tones of the LP’s mini-epic closer kick in that things really start getting wooly and “meta-modern,” though one senses that might happen more quickly in a live context.Jenny HvalExperimental/Art-Pop.
This year’s Fringe Festival is bringing us several opportunities to experience challenging, high-concept Norwegians, and Jenny Hval should fit right in. Even more than her previous work (notably 2012’s mini-breakthrough Innocence is Kinky), the recent Apocalpyse, Girl (Sacred Bones) offers an exquisite juxtaposition of pleasure and discomfort, with Hval’s airy voice as likely to whisper discomfortable, deadpan semi-absurdities – poetic pokes at political, gender-troubled and/or bodily squirminess – as it is to soar sirenically atop serene, transporting art-pop shimmer.MadonnaPop. What is to be said?
In her words: bitch, she’s Madonna. What exactly that means in 2015 is a subject explored exhaustively, if hardly conclusively, across the twenty-five or so tracks comprising Rebel Heart (Live Nation/Interscope)’s bewildering assortment of editions. It’s an archetypically sprawling, messy affair, encompassing ballads and bangers, glorious throwback house-pop and edgy, almost- au-courant dubstep twerks, heartfelt triumph and utterly embarrassing silliness, familiar themes (sex, religion, rinse, repeat) and uncommon stabs at introspection – all adding up to easily her most vital work in a decade.The InternetR&B/Hip-Hop/Soul. The Internet started out as an Odd Future satellite side-project – initially, the low-key duo of singer-songwriter Syd the Kid and producer Matt Martians; now, as of their excellent third album Ego Death (Odd Future/Columbia), a fully operational, delectably funky live band – but their output pointedly lacks the confrontationalism – or, indeed, ego – of that collective.
Rather, they emanate a graciously grooving, loosely jazzy, distinctly Soulquarian vibe – Syd’s airy, mellifluous voice, in particular, is deeply reminiscent of Jill Scott. So Philly should know just how to get down.Earl SweatshirtHip-Hop. He couldn’t really spell it any more clearly: the title I Don’t Like Shit I Don’t Go Outside (Columbia), slapped against a flat, tattered black field, makes for a pointedly un-enticing cover image, and the contents of the latest full-length from Odd Future’s most gnomic member – a one-time prodigy turned bitter, disillusioned veteran at age 21 – follow suit. It’s a deeply dour, insular affair, an old-school-style half hour/ten tracks of little but bleakly minimalist post-El-P beats (mostly self-produced) and Sweatshirt’s dogged, deliberate, ticked-off rhyming.ReconditeHouse. For anyone who may have lost the signal sometime in the quarter-century since Dr. Alex Paterson first kinda-sorta launched the concept of ambient house: yes, the Orb are still orbiting; still blithely bouncing around the cosmos; still grooving along in their lush, trippy, gently whimsical fashion. And they may quite well still be doing so 688 years hence.
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Or such seems to be the promise of Moonbuilding 2703 AD (Kompakt) – somehow, improbably, the outfit’s first overtly moon-oriented LP – whose four typically languorous, extended bliss-outs, apart from the titular trip-hoppy funk-a-thon, mine an enjoyably fluid, slowly-morphing minimal techno vein.OptimoDance/DJ. It’s been ten years since JD Twitch and JG Wilkes devised the mashup-era apotheosis that was their brazenly eclectic, almost obnoxiously tasteful How To Kill The DJ – a psychedelic/techno/post-punk/worldbeat whirlwind that remains, for what it’s worth, easily the highest-rated DJ mix in Pitchfork’s cache – and five since the shuttering of their storied, eponymous Glasgow club night. But while times have changed and tastes have streamlined, the duo’s reputation as adventurous, dependably unpredictable party-starters hasn’t waned. Blanck Mass, a.k.a.
Benjamin John Power (an exceptionally apt surname), is only one half of Fuck Buttons, but by pretty much any other measure – drama, magnificence, sheer intensity – his music readily equals that of his better-known electro-noise project. Plus it’s a good bit easier to dance to. Terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure, Power’s body-troubled concept-opus Dumb Flesh (Sacred Bones) is a miasma of throbbing, towering industrial grooves; writhing sheets of cyborg sound wrapped around thunderously funky drums, with squealing, distended melodies that splice the difference between disco-diva wails and haunted-house screams. Originally intended for publication in Philadelphia City Paper, until the show was cancelled.
Boasting several decently punchy (if rather lyrically dweeby) originals and a grab-bag of covers ranging from Buffy Sainte-Marie to the Coasters, their oeuvre includes thrillingly competent snatches of pretty much every imaginable mid-sixties trope: Nuggets-y garage snarl, affable folk-rock, Hollies-style boy-band harmonies (probably their strongest suit), quasi-psych conceptualism, Wrecking Crew-enabled baroque chamber-pop, etc. In other words, these guys really didn’t have much of their own musical identity. Key Cinq-ster Mark Creamer, as quoted in the lovingly researched booklet, regarding the band’s whirl with the LA limelight: “We basically floated through the whole thing, you know?” You don’t say.
Originally published in Magnet MagazineAriel Kalma/Robert Aiki Aubrey LoweNew Age/Ambient/Electronic. Last year the forward-thinking folks at Rvng, Intl. Compiled some unreleased 1970s proto-New Age tape recordings by Paris-born composer and experimental musical wayfarer Ariel Kalma; this Spring they linked him up with latter-day psycho-spiritualist Robert A.A. Lowe (Lichens, Om) for the 12th installment of their intergenerational FRKWYS collaboration series. The resulting We Know Each Other Somehow LP opens in a dense field-recorded thicket of droplets and crickets before wading deep into drone, saxophony and meandering modular synthesis – so it feels fitting that they’ll be performing by the river with, apparently, an actual plant as the opening act.Time Wharp/Magical MistakesElectronic.
True to its name, Astro Nautico specializes in heady electronica that’s a little bit spacey, a little bit soupy. Saturday’s event, something of a local coming-out party for the label, in conjunction with their fellow Philly/Brooklyn-straddling pals at Paxico records, boasts live sets from Time Wharp – whose recent eponymous LP swirled buzzy, meandering jazz-fusion vibes with zoned-out but serviceable house – and Osaka, Japan’s Magical Mistakes, whose Cracks in the Surface EP is built largely from wonky analog wheezes and kinetic, slightly cartoonish percussion.Kamasi WashingtonJazz.
Siriusmo Uninvited Guest Rar 2017
This Trane-worshiping tenor hero’s involvement in the latest Kendrick and Flying Lotus opuses, and the self-evident audacity of his own three-hour, triple-disc debut for FlyLo’s Brainfeeder label, has turned plenty of (habitually jazz-averse) heads, raised some eyebrows and made The Epic one of 2015’s loudest conversation pieces. Surf rock and airy girl-group harmonies typically conjure up sunny, summery vibes, but this Seattle four-piece clearly prefers the dark end of the beach.
Their Ty Segall-produced sophomore jaunt, Weirdo Shrine (Hardly Art), is a decidedly overcast affair; between Shana Cleveland’s spooky, deadpan vocals and classically twanging Wray/Dale-style leads, and Katie Jacobsen’s rickety organ, the mood is darkly atmospheric and shiver-inducing on roughed-up rawkers and wistful ballads alike. Originally published in Philadelphia City Paper. Silver Wilkinson by BibioHanging Gardens by ClassixxSettle by DisclosureCold Spring Fault Less Youth by Mt.