Hippie Cult

Birthed by Jakob Rehlinger in 1999 on Vancouver Island, initially as a way to release CDRs for the local indie-pop scene, now the primary way of releasing his own challenging music, Arachnidiscs has grown into one of the most interesting, yet humble, of local labels. Since his move to the cold barrens of Etobicoke five years ago, the sound of Arachnidiscs has taken a turn to the weird, focusing on psych-folk, jazz, and compositional based music. This is a dark world of, mostly, instrumental music. A drone filled world where experimental string sections walk with finger picked guitars in the deserts of Mars. Sparse, lonely music best suited for late night bus stops and/or foggy mornings on the farm.

Here’s a brief rundown of some of the prolific labels latest releases.

 Babel

Started by Rehlinger himself as a sound collage project, Babel has become a dark modern classical masterpiece.  I’d like to think of Babel’s music as the collision between different sounds, and perhaps the latest release, Limbus (2011), best speaks to this. Inspired by the life cycle of a tree, it would have been easy for this to sound “close to nature”, instead low bowed guitars and industrial percussion threaten a beautiful piano that keeps us tied to the tree, it’s roots and our own circulatory system. It’s this constant conflict between the traditional and the experimental, nature and technology, which makes so much of the Arachnidiscs catalogue a rewarding listen.

Babel’s previous release, Zahlreiche (2010), though colder, is no less fascinating. Ten pieces composed for prepared guitars, hammered strings, thumb piano, bells and various metal objects; the album has an overall feeling of menacing paranoia. The pieces creep slowly along with you, plucking all the while, sometimes falling behind, but never letting you out of their sights, waiting to strike with a cacophony of clatter when you least expect it. As the Arachidiscs blog states: “…the music falls at the intersection of Cage‘s Three Constructions, traditional Japanese folk music and a jet turbine factory.”

Moonwood River Ghosts (Music For Water Borne Disease) (2011)

Progressive psych-folk in the best way. Heavy “tribal” percussion, Romanian lap harp, and flute, invoking visions of mystic rituals. Started by Rehlinger, again, as a continuation from Babel, Moonwood also showcases his ability as a talented electric guitar player. Moonwood’s latest release, and Arachnidiscs’ first vinyl release, is rich with minimal, fuzz-laden guitar soaked in reverb. Reminiscent of Woods’ instrumental moments, but in a more sinister mood. Good vibes are hard to find here, better for tequila in a heat wave, mescal in a sweat lodge. Easily one of the great unsung records of 2011.

Espvall/Jakobsons/Szelag Improvisations for Strings and Electronics (2012)

Marielle Jakobsons and Agnes Szelag of Myrmyr meet cellist Helena Espeall of Espers in Oakland to create some stunning improvisation on Arachnidiscs latest offering. Morose modern classical in five movements. Delicate strings and high-end drone pirouette together in glasscutter slippers.  An introspective overture that gets lost in its self. I wish I knew more about modern classical music to give some decent composer compressions, but given the dream world where this music comes from, perhaps my vague poetics do it the best justice.

 Spit Tape Series (2010- )

My personal favorites of the Arachnidiscs releases, the split tape series pares likeminded artists together on slickly packaged cassettes.

Sides 1 and 2 sees Gown gets lost in a smoke screen of guitar effects and blurry harmonies in a live set, and RobRobRob balance twangy finger picking against layers of fuzz-noise.

On sides 3 and 4 we find Healthy Animal gently strumming over melodic hypnotics, and Summer Amp giving us a glimpse into the future where the new tribes will be building their drums out of industry.

5 and 6 introduce us to Theo Angell (of Jackie-O Motherfucker) as a modern day storyteller and lexicon of American folk, and sees Moonwood making a stab at emulsifying the traditional styles of east and west.

Finally, sides 7 and 8 bring us the strange piano against Chinese field recordings of Andy Futreal, and Babel at his most minimal.

There’s so much more to find here. I encourage everyone to head to arachnidiscs.wordpress.com to start exploring the vast catalogue of engaging music. The Free Download section alone has more than enough to one started on the trip. Here’s hoping for new many releases and shows from Toronto’s most unique label this year.

Visit Arachnidiscs here.

For years Women In Tragedy’s main man, Bob McCully, floated by himself in the deep space of sprawling post-rock/psych jams done at epic lengths. WIT previous release, the brilliant “Dian Arbus”, was an ambitious 2 CDR album that clocked in at over two hours with eight tracks averaging fifteen minutes. But space can be a lonely place when you’re all by yourself, and for his latest release our lost astronaut flushed out his once solo project into a four-piece post-hardcore/metal band.  “Medusa” has the feel of a man who, since his escape pod crashed in the wilds of northern Ontario, and he trekked for weeks to civilization, chased by harassing swarms of black bugs and rabid wolves, only to be saved by members of Converge, who just happen to be passing by on tour, wants to be social again. He wants to make music with other people and for other people. One could now define the music as Metalcore if they felt the need, though still far from conventional. It is definitely making and attempted at accessibility, hauling in the song lengths to a less daunting nine minutes, and sowing some melodic pop seeds in amongst all the breakdowns and chugga-chugga riffing. “Tremors” in particular stars off not unlike latter-day Cure before its balls drop and it opens up to some tough metallic pounding. It’s hard not to picture packs of boys in black hoodies coming at each other from opposite sides of the room with arms swinging during the apex of these songs. Though I find myself missing the grand ambition and trippy instrumentation of previous releases, this is still a good sound track for your next circle pit, and I hope as a full band WIT finds the larger audience they seem to be stabbing for. Somewhere out there is a nineteen year old with bangs in his face, doing bong hits to the Dillinger Escape Plan. I want to appear as a smoky vision to this young man and put a copy of this CD in his impressionable hands. Years later he will speak fondly of this moment to his therapist.

The Deeep - Muddy Tracks, 12” (100% Silk)

This elusive astral-dub trio seem to exist in the smokey either of Toronto’s experimental music scene, only surfacing to prove that they can breath our air as well. Solid remixes on the B-side. (Quick prediction for 2012: Trip-hop (think early Trick/late Portishead) is coming back.)

Sic Alps - Napa Asylum, 2xLP (Drag City)

“When I come home drunk at three in the morning this is the kind of music I want to make. Like a fucked up Donovan.” - Matt Davey (John Milner You’re So Boss, Blame Face) Couldn’t agree more. Fucked-up electric-folk. Eerie, nocturnal jangle.

Lantern - I Don’t Know/Out Of Our Heads, 7” (Mammoth Cave)

Speaking of garage rock, sometimes you just need do it right. This is some tougher than your average fare. Blown out boogie that smells of bar room floors and screaming at people from cars.

Dirty Beaches - Badlands, LP (Zoo Music)

Dirty Beaches - Lone Runner, 7” (Suicide Squeeze)

I’ll drink this Kool-Aid up as long as he’s serving.This was the year I feel in love with Dirty Beaches murky , sample-base nostalgia. A haunted home to bits of rockabilly, Rhythm and Blues, and the greaser nation. Sometimes it makes me think of an oversexed Mark E. Smith. Excited to see what the addition of a drums and sax to his live band will bring.

Leyland Kirby - Eager To Tear Apart The Stars, LP (History Always Favours The Winners)

The Caretaker - An Empty Bliss Beyond This World, LP (History Always Favours The Winners)

A Beautiful pair of records by James Leyland Kirby, AKA The Caretaker. Faternal twins, “Eager to Tear…” sounds like what the strong-willed hear when they go to heaven, all deep base and the recorded hissing of a hundred-year-old harp. “An Empty Bliss…” on the other hand, an interpretation of Alzheimer’s, culled from a collection of Ballroom 78”s, sounds like a mind falling apart. Next level sad music.

Holy Cobras - Forever, LP (Telephone Explosion)

I may have listened to this record more than any other this year. What to call it? Punkraut-Rock? Psych-Core? I see it as being brought back by robots from the same future as The Pink Noise, or from the same space ship The Stooges got Fun House from. But that’s neither here nor there. One of the best live bands to see.

TOMUTONTTU - TOMUUNTUU, One-sided picture-disc (Beniffer Editions)

Sexiest looking record of the year. Beniffer does it again. 21 minutes of floating on trippy electric winds care of Finland. Created by Jan Anderzen for the Aanen Lumo Fesitval for New Sounds in Helsinki. I don’t think I’ll ever fully comprehend this record. 

US Girls - US Girls On KRAAK, LP (KRAAK)

US Girls/Slim Twig - Split EP, 12” (Palmist)

I’ve been a long time admirer of Megan Remy’s dark, minimal pop, but since her kinship with Slim Twig, her songs have a more classical, powerful approach. There are some serious jams on these records with serious staying power. If modern radio had any guts it could sound like this.

The Men - Leave Home, LP (Sacred Bones)

Look at this funny post-hardcore hodgepodge, freely riffing on Fugazi, Space Man 3, The Ramones, and whoever else they happen to be listening to. Starts with a nod to shoegaze before climaxing with sludgy drone and coming down with some drum machine punk. Also look for their brutal Devo cover.

Taiwan - Belladonna (Self Released)

Angelo Badalamenti inspired instrumental bleakness. Sounds like falling asleep to a warbly VHS of Twin Peaks.

Cartoons - s/t (Not Unlike)

Kick ass grunge-punk from Denholm Whale of the Odonis Odonis/Buzz Records crew. A must watch for 2012.

Element Kuuda - Flight 2 (Fade Away)

Vintage synths pulled though tape effects. The ghost of Tangerine Dream is strong in this one. Most ethereal release of the year.

Listen to part 1.

Babysitter - Tape V (Planet Of The Tapes)

When I heard these guys where from Victoria I thought, good, this is always what I hoped bong hits in Victoria would sound like. Quirky stoner-rock with nothing better to do than pack another bowel and bitch about life.

Andy Boay - Born To Fully (Bruised Tongue)
One half of the brothers White, AKA Tonstartssbandht. A minimal version of their kraut-prog head trip. Stunning treated guitar psych.

Red Mass - Sadness (Bruised Tongue)

A black magic mix-tape that oscillates from heavy-psych to psychobilly to spoken word noise to astral jam. Perfect sound track for a post negative psychic reading.

Theo Angell / Moonwood - Live @ Secret Project Robot 4-17-11/The Path (Achnidiscs)

BC expats Archnidiscs continue their impressively packaged split tape series with a healthy does of freak-folk. Theo Angell’s side contains an entire cannon of American folk and story telling warped through his wizard beard. Moonwood mixes fuzzy reverb from a desert with mystic percussion and spiritual chimes. If you ever consider going on a vision quest, trying to start a New Church of Man, I suggest you take this with you.

Theo Angell

Moonwood

Buzz Records - Live From The Garage tape series. (BUZZ Records)

Much love to Buzz records for their friendship and running the most important live venue Toronto has seen in many a year. The Garage is an all inclusive brick box where local and touring bands plug and play to fifty people and every night feels like new years eve. The best of the best are collected on this 16(!) tape series. Personal favorite: Odonis Odonis/Digits/Anagram.

An amazing collection of field recordings made in 1942 by the legendary archivist Alan Lomax, and in 1969-‘71 by Dave and Cheryl Evans, showcasing the relatively unknown folk styles of the region. Unique to here was the heavy emphasis on instrumentation, especially fife and drum, a militaristic style leftover from the revolution/civil war.

While Lomax’s early recordings provide interesting context, and a point in time as a reference, the later recordings have a certain cultural power (and superior recording quality) that demand attention. Recorded in the late ’60s and early ’70s, these songs seem to existed out of time, trespassing in a time they shouldn’t be. It was by now that folk music was being declared dead by white critics. Killed by Dylan’s electric guitar, by the hippies, by pop, yet here were a group of people who had not heard. No one had bothered to notify them that their music was no loner relevant, so they just kept on the same as ever, passing along the traditions of playing and instrument making.

“Soft Black Jersey Cow” is a perfect example of the deeply percussive, call-and-response style of fife and drum. Sung and played on a five finger fife by Napoleon Strickland (the most prolific and talented musician on this record) and two young teenagers on snare and bass drums at a Saturday BBQ in 1970. The fife playing is so hard that you can hear his lungs straining on the louder notes. At first reminiscent of a colonial military march, the beat grows in complexity becoming funkier by the beat, the fife playfully stabbing it up. Hard not to picture Napoleon Strickland as a giant, magnificent bird in the middle of a parade, singing for its life.

“The Devil’s Dream”, or “Old Devil’s Dream”, preformed by Sid Hemphill on quills with backing drums, gives us an earlier, restrained version of the same raucous playing on “Soft Black Jersey”. Recorded twenty-eight years before by Lomax, it’s intrusting to hear how little the style had changed. While other types of music from the ’40s (Jazz, Blues, early Rhythm and Blues) had gone through considerable growth, exchanging essence with one another, eventually birthing Rock and Roll, Hemphill’s performance seems timeless when standing next to it’s child. Even at the time of this recording the music must have seemed dated to outsiders. The quills (think panpipes), traditionally used in both African and European music, had been more or less discarded some years earlier in favor of the harmonica for its versatility and cost. Hemphill literally breaths new life into the pipes, puffing encouragement that can be heard in his vocal effects, giving it its own dance.

The “bow diddley”, also known regionally as the “diddley bow” (and, yes, the namesake of Bo Diddley), is as much a traditional instrument as is is one of necessity. An adaptation the the African musical bow and a makeshift, one string slide guitar rolled into one. It’s made by stringing wire along an outside wall, securing it at each end, and using two bottles to make the wire taunt. The player then plucks the wire with their right while using a slide to control the pitch with their left. It was often considered to be a child’s instrument, the first step to a guitar. Compton Jones never learned to play a guitar, and why would you when you can make one string say more than most can with six. My personal favorite on this compilation. Listen to the sounds of cars on the distant road, the wind. You can hear that it is night. Nothing can sound this alone in the sun.

“Shake ‘Em on Down” is probably one of the most popular, if not recognizable, blues tunes of all time. First recorded by Bukka White in 1937, it is impossible to tell how long before, and in how many variations, it existed. Compton Jones had probably never heard any commercial recordings of it, and he never learned to play guitar, but if he had, then it probably would have sounded closer to Ranie Burnette’s version. Burnette was one of most popular blues men in the area and had at by this time (1970, same year as Jones’ version) switch to an electric, though he plays a more traditional, acoustic style on this recording for David Evans.

Ada Turner’s (wife of Othar Turner, pictured on the album cover) “This Little Light of Mine” takes the cake for the most moving recording on the album. A spiritual/work song sung while washing clothes, you can her deep breathing and the sloshing of the water as she runs clothes along her washboard. As the daughter of a preacher she would have been intimately familiar with this song, hearing it for most of her life. I wonder how she though of this song. Like a tool to help her work? Like a sister to keep her company? Or like an angle who was constantly by her side? In any case, she is not so much singing the song as singing to it. She becomes the songs complementary mirror, making it look good no matter what it does. A best friend you can confide in and share compliments with.

I wish I could give you a good download link for this record, but I could find none. (Oh, wait. Here it is http://www.mediafire.com/?1l1nrotulhrrv2o) It does appear in used record stores and on Ebay from time to time. If you enjoyed these songs, and are one day lucky enough to find it, please do yourself the service of picking it up. I got my copy when the Toronto Reference Library was culling it’s vinyl, but still see copies from time to time floating around town.

I owe much of the information in this piece to the fine, highly detailed liner notes that accompanies this record, written by David Evans who also compiled the compilation and recorded much of it.

(Originally published in Offerings, Toronto’s free music monthly.)

It’s starting to get cold again. Soon you will need to start stalking up before outside travel is impossible. While out collecting cans of food and things to burn be sure to grab the handsome new LP by Silver Dapple, Elgnisg Girlfriend. Wrapping you in a warm blanket of fuzz-pop and rubbing your belly with memories of how music sounded in middle school, it will be sure to keep you toasty.

            Started by the angelically voiced Emily Deimert in 2009 the band is made of some of Montreal’s most talented including members of Jesuslesfilles, Sheer Agony, and Dirty Beaches. The songs are beautifully unpretentious, sung at a delicate level, and ride waves of gazing guitars and backbeats. The voice sounding like a full confession, honest and calm.

            Silver Dapple is an excellent argument in favor of ‘90s rock music. There was a time when that music , along with much else of that decade, seemed awkward, but with a twenty year buffer between now and then it’s starting to sound less awkward and more charming, blooming out of its puberty. As more and more bands offer their reworkings of grunge, Silver Dapple remind us about Eric’s Trip, Brit-pop, and listening to music on a Discman while waiting for homeroom to start.

            If this record was a day it would be a bright Sunday in January. You would have nothing to do but sit by the window, drink mulled wine and wonder about where the bees go this time of year. There would be a gentle stillness and you would be OK with staying inside all day, imagining the cold.

            The Dapples drummer, Jesse Locke, also moonlights as a writer/editor over at Weird Canada, who have recently relocated from Edmonton to Toronto. In celebration of this, and the release of English Girlfriend, Silver Dapple will be playing Weird Canada’s first official Toronto show alongside Each Other and Odonis Odonis on December 2^nd at the Port (1179 Dundas St. W.).

Listen/Buy

(Pauses) from silver.dapple on Vimeo.

What makes this music so compelling is that it is like watching someone die, but made beautiful. Watching a person pass is rarely a dignified thing and many of us find it hard to watch due to our own sense of shame and helplessness, whether grandparent or the plants we have let go brown and brittle.

This is brittle music.

Most of the leaves have fallen away in flakes and you can see the stems and bones, all fibrous and weak. Brittle but alive, unlike James Kirby Leyland’s last record of 2011 under the Caretaker moniker. While “An Empty Bliss Beyond This World” saw him make Frankensteins out of already dead pre-war ballroom records, “Eager to Tear Apart the Stars” is more of a hunger strike or a fast. Minimal synths, bass and string samples shimmer angelically over the same vinyl-fuzz that haunted the halls of “An Empty Bliss… ” placing it in a similar world, much like later Davis Lynch films (Lost Highway, Mulholland Dr., Inland Empire) all appear to be set in a similar world with their own logic and physics, not unlike, but different from our own, just recognizable enough that we know to empathize with what’s happening, but also far away enough that we know we don’t know where we are.

“Eager to Tear…” may also deserve a Lynch comparison in musical tone. Much of it is reminiscent of the ghost-lounge scores of Angelo Badalamenti and could have easily been featured in an episode of Twin Peaks, while Caretaker name is a sly wink to The Shining and its haunted ballroom.

The world where these albums come from does not exist anymore. It orbited a star that exploded a long time ago and the light and sound that we get from it are very old and are essentially only memories at this point. Memories are never real, they are always seen by the bias of the present which taints their clarity, but still we are eager to confuse them because we like to feel like we can be in a place of our time, our world.

Listen.

Buy.

I’ve developed some what of an obsession with the Numero Group who, since 2003, have been reissuing the some of the finest soul, funk, rock and whatever else they like from around the world. Specifically I’ve fallen in love with the too brief Local Customs series, documenting specific, relatively unknown, regional American studios and the local talent they recorded.

Lone Star Lowlands showcases Mickey Rouse’s Lowlands studio out of Beaumont Texas, who recorded mellow folk-rock, proto-metal garage, and southern fried electric blues.

Pressed at Boddie brings together the eclectic recordings of the Boddie Recording Company of Cleveland, a vanity press label that would work with anyone who entered their doors. (No vinyl of this, boooooo!)

But my undoubted favorite, the one that can live on my turntable for days at a time, is the beautiful Downriver Revival.

Felton Williams was a well known pedal steel player in the church community of Ecorse, MI, a suburb of Detroit. The Church of the Living God had a unique musicality of pairing Spanish and pedal steel guitars for their gospel services and Felton, who built his first guitar and amplifier as a child, would become one of the most sought after musicians. 

His playing has a strong electric twang, an almost sitar-like quality, making it instantly recognizable. He was well known from touring churches and was a roll model for young musicians.

Naturally gifted with electronics, and an engineer at Ford, he built his home studio in his children’s playroom piece by piece and began gathering local musicians, friends and family, to record in his basement, and, from 1967-81 releasing them as Revival Records.

Working under the ether of Motown, but with a leaning to gospel and an open mindedness to different styles (jazz, funk, rock), Revival recorded a wide range of artists from the cummunity.

Standouts included the powerful voice of Shirley Ann Lee, fellow steel player (and most successful Revival artist) Calvin Cooke, and former numer-oners The Organics.

Here’s hoping for more from this series.

Watch the Felton Williams documentary.

So the story is the diverse  Mr. Rapp recorded one instrumental track a day for six months and Allready Dead Tapes edited it down to this beautifully designed double cassette.

It plays like a stream of consciousness mix tape, ever changing in style and tone yet somehow manages to stay away from sounding isolated at every moment. I say this because often when we think of the lone musicians, recording by themselves in their bedrooms, day after day with great dedication, we think of a lonely person, a person outside of society, left to figure out music for themselves. Say a Jandek or a Jerry Solomon (though I don’t know if either of them were actually lonely either, they just sound it), the “outsider”. Instead it sounds like someone deeply engaged in modern music, constantly taking in new styles, and instead of trying to cram them into each other (a catalyst in new music for sure, but a very hard thing to pull off as well), respectfully pays tribute to each as a true fan would.

It could be a personal music diary of day to day listening: Monday-Doom Drone; Tuesday-warbly Freak Folk; Wednesday-Death Metal; Thursday-minimal noise tones, etc. He has his tastes. 

Darkness, heavy bass, found vocal samples, and a sense of humor are what ties it all together. There’s a unique ability to not take himself too seriously while still genuinely trying to do well by every track… every day… for six months.

Normally I would tell you to buy it, but it was an edition of 40, and I believe it’s already sold out.

I got mine at a recent Forget The Times (an amazing improve psych-rock band from Kalamazoo (which sounds like a wonderland)), see them and pick it up if you can. Or, if you look around, it’s out there.

Listen.

An ongoing series in which I make amends with artists who’s (usually later) careers I have misjudged in youth and changed my mind on with age. Fist up, Sir Paul. (Special thanks to Brandon Hocura (Polyphasic), Dan Bedard (White Suede) and Simone TB (Tropics/ Elle V. Gore) for helping to open my eyes.)

Dear Paul McCartney, I’m sorry I misjudged your solo career. In my angry youth I felt a misguided kinship with John Lennon. He was angry like me, political, and wrote the Beatles rockers I so love. I was still a teen when I picked up Plastic Ono Band from my local Value Village and listened to it until my friends begged me to switch it up. I read a long interview he did with Rolling Stone where he said some not nice things about you and took it to heart. “Fuck that sellout,” I could be heard to say.

Mr. McCartney, I am so sorry.

Now a days I see Lennon as the republican/heroin addict he had become, and feel somewhat ashamed for all that smack talking I did on you. My bad.

The turning point was buying a copy of your first solo, McCartney I, for $1.00 from the late, great Open City in the east end of Toronto. I have to admit, my most hated Beatles songs were all penned by you (looking at you Long and Winding Road), ballads so melodramatic I could never, as a young man, relate too. But this was something totally different. Minimal, experimental, at points it sounds like Captain Beefheart doing Beatles songs. Crowned by the beautiful “Maybe I’m Amazed” I kept this album close for many years, letting this strange little pop album (that would have never been released had you not been you) slowly work me over, until I came ‘round.

Several years later I am played “Darkroom” , a weird, dark, reggae tinged number from your second solo, McCartney II, released around the breakup of Wings. (By the way, I am in no way trying to exclude Wings from this, but for the sake of space let’s try to stick with your first two underrated, and recently reissued, solo albums.) A strange time for you, I’m sure. A full nine years after McCartney I, recently relocated to a castle in Scotland with your young family, and hoarding the latest crazy synths. You had a lot of time on your hands to sort yourself. Finally you got to record “Coming Up” a long lost Wings ditty that almost went to waste, and the future-sounding, annoyingly catchy “Temporary Secretary”. Why this didn’t make more of a splash I’ll never know. It seems right in line with a lot of the funky post-punk/mutant-disco coming out of Factory Records at the time. I bet New Order are secret fans of this album.

Anyways, we’re cool now, right? I hope so. Tell you what, I’ll keep telling anyone who’ll listen how awesome you are on your own, and you quit with that PETA stuff. How’s that sound?