Crime & the City Solution- Paradise Discotheque (1990) MP3 & FLAC

Elektra ~ 1990

Tracklist/Info

Paradise Discotheque  in FLAC:  Grab, Try, Then Buy!

MP3 (320kbps)

Spiritualized- Fucked Up Inside (1993) MP3 & FLAC

Dedicated ~ 1993

Tracklist/Info

Fucked Up Inside  in FLAC:  Grab, Try, Then Buy!

MP3 (320kbps)

Galaxie 500- "Here She Comes Now" (1990) Live U.K. T.V. Performance

Dean Wareham & co. channeling the VU and getting it right....

Spiritualized- "Come Together" Video (1998)

J. Spaceman as Lee Harvey Oswald ironizing John Lennon. I know, I know, but it works!

W1dowspe@k- S/T (2011) / Harsh Realm EP (2011) / Gunshy EP (2011) MP3 & FLAC

"An empty home, a vacant hell. I knew you in the harsh realm."

It is sobering to realize that it has now been a decade and a half since Mazzy Star's last release, Among My Swan, and though the ensuing years have brought many attempts to replicate their narcotic brand of bluesy psych-folk, none have been able to convincingly capture the alluring darkness that characterized the collaboration between David Roback and Hope Sandoval. The closest, in my estimation, was Miranda Lee Richards' brief stint in The Brian Jonestown Massacre, which yielded some brilliant, sleepy psych-folk such as "Reign On" from the Bringing It All Back Home Again EP; however, that was before I had heard Widowspeak, who appeared on the scene in early 2011 with their single "Harsh Realm," a deliciously sullen bit of Mazzy-worthy navel-gazing dressed in heavily-reverbed fifties-style paranoia, which was reportedly recorded after having only played six shows together as a unit. A Brooklyn trio with roots in the Pacific Northwest, Widowspeak belie these origins by conjuring a Southern California Paisley vibe, while giving it their own twist by cutting it with the kind of fifties and early-sixties musical references that would make David Lynch proud, as well as introducing a subtle but gritty Garage-Rock element, both of which lend Widowspeak a bit more sonic variation than what can be found in the iconic sound of their obvious main influence.

Lead-singer and rhythm guitarist Molly Hamilton:

"I think during the first practice, in my apartment, we talked about the 50′s- Buddy Holly, Roy Orbison, early Elvis, and we initially wanted the band to have that sound. I don’t think that happened, but that first practice was cool because all of our weird obsessions came out. Michael and I share an encyclopedic knowledge of the grunge era because of our Northwest upbringings, as well as a love for the Sonics and 60′s garage. Rob’s more into the 70′s, Television and the Stones. Rob and I love Pavement, but Michael is crazy and prefers Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks.  We all dig the Velvet Underground.  I also listen to a lot of really old country and blues and 90′s pop music. We cover “Wicked Game,” but we’ve also talked about covering the Cranberries and the Carter Family, if that says anything about how weird our influences are."

While it is the band's memorable cover of Chris Isaak's classic David Lynch-inspired slow-burner "Wicked Game" that has created much of the buzz surrounding Widowspeak in the early-going, it is actually their beautifully crestfallen self-titled debut album that is most deserving of attention. Admittedly, throughout the course of the album, the ghost of Mazzy Star is almost always within earshot (especially in relation to the lead vocals); however, Molly Hamilton, Michael Stasiak and Robert Earl Thomas never succumb to pure tributary. Instead, by deftly integrating a range of distinguishing influences and emotions, Widowspeak  is able to stake out its own sonic territory, thus earning the right to be heard on its own terms. The lead track, "Puritan," is a case in point; while for much of the song, Hamilton seems to be channeling Hope Sandoval to an uncanny degree, she also occasionally adds unpredictable phrasings to her vocals that lend the song a distinctly non-Mazzy glimmer of emotional lightness. This, coupled with Thomas' Morricone meets surf-rock guitar-style, allows Widowspeak to offer up a glimpse of what might make them truly unique down the road. Likewise, on their second single, "Gun Shy," the band adopts a more upbeat, hook-filled approach, thus finally providing Hamilton with a vehicle for transcending the chorus of Sandoval comparisons, something she takes advantage of to great affect. At first blush, it is tempting to embrace Widowspeak simply for softening the sting associated with Mazzy Star's sixteen years of silence, but on closer inspection, the quality of the songs and the album's range of material both suggest that Widowspeak have more on their minds than playing the role of pysch-folk surrogates.

Widowspeak- "Ghost Boy" (2011) Live @ 285 Kent Ave.

Yeah, I know it sounds a lot like Mazzy Star, but since they have gone into permanent hibernation despite periodic rumors to the contrary, Widowspeak is a capable substitute with a few sonic wrinkles of their own...

Girls- "Hellhole Ratrace" Video (2009)

Fine S.F. indie band that sounds a little like Elvis Costello fronting Spiritualized. They just released a new LP yesterday , Father, Son, Holy Ghost. More on Girls coming soon...

@nna C@lvi- S/T (2011) MP3 & FLAC

"Hold me down, and hold me close tonight."

Every once in a while, a truly distinct independent artist becomes subject to the hype machine that the music press usually reserves for the pablum that emanates from the major labels. While this can be a blessing for an indie artist in terms of exposure, it can also become a curse in the sense that the hype is often comprised of reductive comparisons to other artists and/or ill-fitting identifications with specific genres. In fact, if there is anything that distinguishes much of the music journalism and music promotion of the last decade or so from that of earlier eras, it is the widespread need to over-define and micro-categorize both artist and artwork alike. Anna Calvi is an apt example of this phenomenon, with soundbites from the likes of icons such as Brian Eno claiming Calvi to be "the best thing since Patti Smith" preceding her like a calling card or a scarlet letter, depending on one's tolerance for hype-induced adjectives and predicates. To be honest, I'm usually instantly turned off by such things, but on rare occasion, there is something about an artist's work that speaks through all the hype and over-exposure, in effect, demanding to be heard on its own terms. Anna Calvi's eponymous debut album speaks in this way loudly and eloquently. Co-produced with Rob Ellis, otherwise known as the drummer for P.J. Harvey, another artist whom the music press is eager to compare Calvi to, Anna Calvi is a lush, Goth-tinged set of torch songs that tap into the same romanticized backwoods-blues template that has been so good to Nick Cave over the years, but with some intriguing sonic wrinkles, such as Calvi's guitarwork, sounding a bit like Django Reinhardt-meets-Tom Verlaine as refracted through a David Lynch film. The album's lead track, "Rider to the Sea," is both a fine tribute to the kind of moody guitar-based soundscapes that Verlaine perfected on Warm and Cool and a clear indicator of Calvi's considerable artistic boldness, as it isn't everyday a debut album begins with what is, for the most part, an instrumental. Calvi's sultry vocals make their first real appearance on "No More Words," perhaps the most understated song on Anna Calvi and arguably the strongest. Here, Calvi creates a sixties pop vibe complete with soft, almost whispered vocals, which belies the song's dark, desolate heart. Another brilliant song is "The Devil," a haunting, soul-searching ballad that reaches for the same type of dust-blown twang as Paula Frazer's early work in Tarnation and features some lovely flamenco-influenced guitar work by Calvi. All hype aside, Calvi's debut is the kind of album to get lost in, lovingly constructed, impeccably recorded, and featuring some of the most vibrantly assured Goth-pop you're likely to hear.

Pauline Murray & The Invisible Girls- S/T (1980) MP3 & FLAC -Thank You Cudawaver!-

"Exteriors are never real, nobody shows just what they feel."

From the barely controlled (but still beautiful) punk rage of "Don't Dictate" to the often convincing Patti Smith-isms of Moving Targets  to the lush Post-Punk of her solo debut, Pauline Murray & The Invisible Girls, Pauline Murray proved herself to be one of the most gifted vocalists of the Punk/Post-Punk era, who, in terms of ability, was easily the equal of her closest contemporary, Siouxsie Sioux, but in terms of career fortunes, was fated to play the role of obscure cult artist. After the acrimonious demise of Penetration, whose final album, Coming Up for Air, was a critical and commercial disaster to put it mildly, Murray found herself without a band or a record deal but with a reputation that all but guaranteed her a certain level of creative autonomy on her next project. This project would materialize after a move from Newcastle to Manchester with ex-Penetration band-mate and boyfriend, bass player Robert Blamire. While the move was ostensibly to find a more artist-friendly environment, Manchester also happened to be the home of producer Martin Hannett, who, during the course of the preceding two years, had made quite a name for himself as the sonic architect of Joy Division's iconic albums, Unknown Pleasures  and Closer. Hannett's unorthodox recording methods and Svengali-like presence in the production booth had lent Joy Division's work a unique and unprecedented approach to creating a sense of spatiality in the music, something he had borrowed from Dub Reggae artists such as Lee "Scratch" Perry. After deciding to work with Murray, Hannett coupled her with his "house band," The Invisible Girls, which included Hannett on bass, Vini Reilly of Durutti Column fame on guitar, and Buzzcocks drummer John Maher. In contrast to Hannett's better known work with Joy Division, Pauline Murray & The Invisible Girls is, unapologetically, a pop record, but one that dresses its uniformly excellent songs in ethereal textures and dark, often edgy hues. This works to great affect on the opener, "Screaming in the Darkness," which bears the imprint of Hannett's obsessive emphasis on creating space between the various instruments and features one of Murray's most memorable vocal performances, managing to sound fey, melancholic, and stunningly beautiful all at once. And then there's the lovely first single, "Dream Sequence I," one of the poppiest moments on the album to be sure, though Hannett's arrangement is still off-kilter enough to give it some edge. Maybe more so than any other song on the album, "Dream Sequence I" makes it clear that Murray had finally found a sympathetic setting for her soulfully sad voice, especially as she belts out the devastatingly catchy chorus that makes the song impossible to forget. While listening to Pauline Murray & The Invisible Girls more than thirty years after it was first released, it is hard not to wonder how Murray failed to become one of the bigger names of the Post-Punk movement, as much of the album seems anticipatory of (if not a direct influence on) many of the paths Post-Punk was to take later in the decade. Needless to say, this album is, without a doubt, one of the great lost gems of the early eighties.

Anna Calvi- "Jezebel" Video (2010) Live at The Luminaire, London

Blues, Goth & Flamenco: pretty irresistible combination if you ask me.

John Maus- We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves (2011) / Love Is Real (2007) MP3 & FLAC

"And this is the time to gather at tables aloud with memory of our lost play
and silent pageantry."

A brief glance through some of the critical reviews of John Maus' three albums, and it becomes clear that he is a polarizing figure, inspiring either condescension or adulation with very few reviews falling in between. While some describe the music as featureless or derivative, others characterize Maus' sound as opening new vistas of possibility in pop music. In actuality, Maus embraces a gloomy, Lo-Fi aesthetic, which is largely constructed with vintage analogue synthesizers; however, he is not shy about introducing conventional pop elements into the mix, but does so in a way that refuses the glossy seductions and easy resolutions that straightforward pop deals in. On his second LP, Love Is Real, Maus approximates the overly bright yet wafer thin sound of eighties synth-pop but strips it of all its clarity by throwing it down a well of hazy reverb and by using his sometimes clumsy and often exaggerated doom-filled Ian Curtis croon to lend the songs a dark, claustrophobic feel. For example, on "Love Letters from Hell," a cheap drum machine and strangely funereal synth-based organ effect conspire to create a context for Maus' Dubby Post-Punk vocals that is equal parts Vangelis, Joy Division, and Lee Perry. While Maus' third album, We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves, does not stray far from its predecessor in terms of inspiration, it does demonstrate greater sonic depth, superior song-writing, and a slightly better drum machine. "...And the Rain" offers an interesting study in Maus' method; taking the most banal elements of cheesy eighties synth-pop, burying them in layers of foggy reverb, and juxtaposing them to his throaty vocals dripping with both sentimentality and irony, Maus approximates what Stephin Merritt might have sounded like fronting B-Movie in 1983. Nevertheless, there are moments on We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves where Maus transcends his deconstuctive retro-mode and points the way toward something new and intriguing. "Believer," the album's lead single, is one of these moments. Sounding a bit more produced than the rest of the album, the song's refracted Gregorian chant-style vocals provide an epic sense of depth, making Maus' stream of consciousness lyrics sound like echoes of something profound, and the procession of indelible hooks makes "Believer" easily the most memorable track on the album. Maus' music may not be as transformational as he wants it to be or, perhaps, as we want it to be, but given half a chance, it becomes clear that he is mining some interesting musical territory here.

John Maus- "The Believer" Video (2011)

Keyboard player for Animal Collective, Panda Bear and Haunted Graffiti with some lush, lo-fi ear candy:

Siouxsie and The Banshees- Join Hands (1979) MP3 & FLAC -For Ol' Foggy-

"You swallow the trail but still arrive in your entrails."

Join Hands is often characterized as an early misfire for Siouxsie and The Banshees, a bleak, impenetrable album containing few if any of the charms found in the band's other albums of the time. When listening to this album, I can't help but wonder what its reputation would be if it had been recorded by another band, instead of being sandwiched in between groundbreaking works such as The Scream  and Kaliedoscope. Don't get me wrong, Join Hands offers few of the Punk theatrics of the former or the powerful vocal performances of the latter, but in their place, The Banshee's sophomore album captures the band (as it was then comprised) at their most unstructured, unpolished, and experimental. This was partly due to the success of The Scream, which prompted Polydor to pressure the band for a timely follow-up; however, The Banshees were already fraying at the edges and heading toward a state of emotional disarray, something that would eventually lead to their disintegration while on tour supporting Join Hands. Undeniably, the album bears the mark of its tumultuous origins, and because of this, it is often written off as an artistic "hiccup" before putting together the classic incarnation of The Banshees that included Budgie and John McGeoch, but such critics overlook the way Join Hands ties Siouxsie's early Punk-influenced sound to her later, more overtly Goth-oriented approach. Simply put, Join Hands may not be as consistent as its predecessor, but it takes bigger chances by pushing Siouxsie's unique take on Punk minimalism to a new level. For example, on "Placebo Effect," the band marries the dark, minor-key attack that characterized the debut album to a slower, more plodding rhythm, as Siouxsie, strangely buried in the mix, contributes one of her better vocals on the album. However, it is John McKay's ominous guitar-work that really brings the song together, thus providing a valuable reminder that this early incarnation of the band was something to behold. While Join Hands is successful in pushing the Punk aesthetic into areas even further afield than the debut, on songs such as "Icon," it also anticipates the more melodic and varied sonic approach Siouxsie would take on future albums after reforming the band. Where the album (and its reputation) falters a bit is the way it ends: the fourteen minute "The Lord's Prayer," which was an integral part of their live set at the time. While impressive in theory, the song just isn't sonically compelling enough to provide a proper finale to what is otherwise one of the more inventive albums in Siouxsie and The Banshees' discography.

Low- Things We Lost in the Fire (2001) MP3 & FLAC

"I don't need a laser beam. I don't need the time. Leave me in the car tonight; 
rest your drunken mind."

Formed in Duluth, Minnesota in the early nineties, Low embody the essence of the Slowcore genre: minimalist arrangements, glacial tempos, and fragile, achingly beautiful vocals. On second thought, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Low embody everything so-called Slowcore bands wish they could be. Taken as a whole, Low's considerable discography (they've been issuing records for 17 years now) can seem a little samey, but with proper care and attention, each album reveals a subtly different personality while not straying far from what makes this band so special. And what makes Low special is their masterful use of space as an additional element in the song arrangements and Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker's breathtaking vocal harmonies, which often manage to convey by turns (and sometimes simultaneously) an icy despair and an epic warmth that make the songs sound timeless in the way certain old folk songs do. Things We Lost in the Fire is considered by many to be Low's masterpiece because it marks a juncture in their discography where they began to occasionally experiment with different rhythms and a slightly harder sound, the latter being something that would become a little more prominent on future albums. In many ways, lead track "Sunflower" is a quintessential Low song, as it combines darkly-themed lyrics (a tale of murder) with a beautiful minimalist melody that creeps out of the arrangement like a ghost, and then is chased out into the open by Sparhawk and Parker's sweetly melancholic harmonies. In contrast, "Dinosaur Act" introduces a harder edge to Low's sonic palette while still retaining their trademark tempo. Perhaps the most impressive song on Things We Lost in the Fire is one of the most minimally arranged, "Laser Beam." Comprised of little more than Sparhawk's arpeggios and Parker's stunning solo vocal performance, this song exemplifies what sets Low apart from the Slowcore pack: they use the spaciousness and the simplicity of the music to give voice to the silences, thus breathing a sense of emotional authenticity into the recording that would have been lost through a more conventional approach such as drenching the song in pathos-drenched strings. Truly, there is no band better at creating epic emotions out of slightly skewed simplicity.

Sigur Rós- ( ) (2002) / Live at St. Andrews United Church, Vancouver, CA (2001) MP3 & FLAC

Sigur Rós' third album is, in many ways, an attempt to re-define the band's glacially sprawling sound after the breakthrough success of their previous album, Ágætis Byrjun, a lush, often string-drenched affair that garnered the band, among other things, their first significant exposure in Europe and America, which culminated in an opening slot on tour with Radiohead. Three years later, the cryptic ( ) appeared giving every indication Sigur Rós had no desire to chase mainstream Indie success (at least not yet). First, there is the title: parentheses surrounding empty space, suggesting not just the absence of a title, but absence as interlude, which, of course, hints at the music itself: silence as an interlude between notes and/or the note as an interlude between silences. Then there's the artwork, which is both lovely and noticeably free of all the liner material one usually expects with such lavish packaging, save for the band's website address. Musically, ( ) represents a more "stripped-down" approach relative to their previous album, trading in the strings (well, most of them), enveloping melodies, and recognizable song-structures for more atmospheric Post-Rock arrangements, an emphasis on guitars and instrumental loops, and a good (and welcome) dose of dissonance. Whereas Ágætis Byrjun allowed some warm textures and rays of light to intermingle with the glacial Sturm und Drang of the song arrangements, ( ) sustains a more funereal tone while avoiding the kind of emotional dynamics that made the previous album so affecting and in places irritatingly overwrought. As with the album itself, the songs comprising ( ) bear no titles; the effect of which is to render the songs unidentifiable except for their order and what differentiates them musically. On the opening track, things begin with a deep, somber, almost dissonant electronic hum, which lays the foundation for the basic melody that repeats, as if on a loop, throughout the entire song. Soon the electronic effect is mimicked by icy piano notes and Jon Thor Birgisson's highly-treated cooing vocals, thus creating a slow, dirge-like movement that is both achingly beautiful and hopelessly adrift. The sixth song features some lovely vocals by Birgisson backed by thumping percussion amidst a surprisingly spare arrangement until things build toward a dramatic crescendo of guitar chime and distortion. There is no denying that ( ) is not as accessible as Ágætis Byrjun; however, the album's darker inclinations lend it a different kind of emotional depth that makes it one of the more memorable recordings of the Post-Rock genre.

Siouxsie and The Banshees- Juju (1981) MP3 & FLAC -For Ana-

"You hear laughter cracking through the walls, it sends you spinning, you have no choice."

If Kaleidoscope  is the album on which Siouxsie and The Banshees began to fashion their signature sound, then Juju is the album on which they perfected it. More or less abandoning the spare arrangements and use of keyboards that helped their previous album to, in effect, re-invent the band, on Juju, The Banshees return to a darker, guitar-based sound, but instead of the abrasive Punk aesthetic of their early work, Juju exhibits a dense, lush, Goth-based sound that, while eventually becoming their trademark, finds its purest expression on this album. Much of the credit for this goes to Ex-Magazine guitarist John McGeoch, who by this time had become a full-fledged member of the band, although Budgie deserves mention as well for his brilliant tribal-like drumming that gives the album its eerie undertow. One of the album's most memorable tracks is "Spellbound," which combines Budgie's aforementioned drumming with McGeoch's dark-lit jangle that sounds as though it might have taught Johnny Marr a thing or two; however, the centerpiece of the song is one of Siouxsie Sioux's most commanding vocal performances. Even darker is "Sin in My Heart," an unsettling, frantic song employing razor sharp guitars and featuring Siouxsie at her manic and theatrical best. Juju is a relentlessly dark album, which is why many refrain from calling it Siouxsie and The Banshees' masterpiece; however, one would hard-pressed to find a purer or more lushly beautiful example of this band's distinctive sound.

Low- "Over the Ocean" Video (1996)

 A gorgeous, narcoleptic lullaby from one of the great indie bands of the nineties...

Siouxsie and The Banshees- "Spellbound" Video (1981)

Siouxsie and the boys at their absolute peak. Just fucking brilliant...

Cat's Eyes- S/T (2011) Rough Trade Limited Edition (Bonus Disc) MP3 & FLAC

"Don't go looking where you shouldn't look, 'cause you won't like what you find."

Who could have predicted that the all-too-brief late-sixties pairing of Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood would continue, more than 40 years later, to exert the influence that it does?  Essentially, it's a simple aesthetic built around a contrast of sexual opposites: a world-weary and/or wrecked male vocal married to a coy, girlish, Lolita-esque female vocal, which is more or less a variation on the old "beauty and the beast" theme. The best of the various contemporary (re)incarnations of this sound is the ongoing collaboration between Mark Lanegan and Isobel Campbell. However, while Lanegan and Campbell play this sound pretty much straight up, Cat's Eyes, a collaboration between Faris Badwan of The Horrors and Canadian opera soprano Rachel Zeffira, use it as a point of departure, crafting a sound that is both convincingly retro but absolutely contemporary in its manipulations of texture and space. What is most striking about Cat's Eyes' eponymous debut is its ability to import sixties-era Motown and mainstream pop influences into a darker, gauzy, Goth-tinged context. For example, the opening title track fades in with a thin claustrophobic electronic-based drone before erupting into what sounds like The Birthday Party doing a mid-sixties Nuggets revival, but what really elevates things are Zeffira's vocal contributions, which lend the song some eye-winking humor while remaining creepily distant. "Not a Friend," possibly the album's best track, is a gorgeous fifties pop knockoff that features Zeffira taking the role of chanteuse but the lyrics render the sugar-coated setting both ironic and paranoiac. While not the first indie artists of late to mine these influences, Cat's Eyes manage to recontextualize and occasionally transform their Nancy & Lee fetish, and in the process make it all sound exceedingly dark and new.

The Horrors- "Mirror's Image" Video (2009)

From side project (Cat's Eyes) to main gig (The Horrors): Goth is definitely on an upswing