Azusa Plane - The Last of the Famous Electronic Playboys EP

(Motorway, 1998)

The A-side is synth bleeps and bloops over a buzzing drone; strictly bassy, low-end stuff that never really goes anywhere and falls, uncharacteristically, squarely into the ‘wank’ category. More – and better – subwoofer madness on the B, a pulsing, underwater thrum that is low enough to play havoc with the ears. New sounds are introduced gradually, and when the gentle layer of white noise finally appears it almost feels sunny compared to that relentless subterranean rumble. The whole play-it-loud earfuck is absolute aural disorientation, and almost – almost! – enough to redeem the entire record.

Look, I feel like a heel poo-pooing two straight Azusa Plane singles, cuz I really do like the band. But heck, when the title runs laps around the A-side, it’s hard not to get all outta joint. Especially when the disc in question happens to be a pricey Japanese import. Just skip this one and check out these twin discographical pinnacles: the glorious hum of Tycho-Magnetic Anomaly and the Full Consciousness of Hidden Harmony and the live (with drums and vocals!) Result Dies With the Worker. DO IT!

Azusa Plane - Comparative Receptions: A Study of Two Distinct Qualifiers

(Blackbean & Placenta, 1996)

Split into “Fender” and “Moog” sides – each a hypnotic, one-man exploration of said instrument – this is definitely one of the lesser Azusa Plane releases. “Moog” is mildly interesting in that it’s a semi-departure from DiEmilio’s guitar-based norm, but it and “Fender” (itself actually quite pretty, if shapeless) both sound like they are nothing more than excerpts cut from long, aimless bedroom blissout sessions. While the Azusa Plane typically made interesting and appealing work out of minimal sonic material, wringing a lot out of a little, it just didn’t come together this time. I, however, improvised an attractive curtain for my bathroom window this afternoon, using some suction hooks, a plastic rod, a small red towel, two clothespins, and some double-sided tape. A+ for me.

Azusa Plane - Lou, Nico, Sterling, John and Maureen

(Burnt Hair, 1997)

Two lovely and entertainingly-titled guitar instrumentals from Jason DiEmilio’s Azusa Plane. The excellent A-side has a dreamy, rainy-day sound that is broken in places by a smooth sheet of distorted guitar static; it’s part Landing, part Flying Saucer Attack. “This is Not Spacerock” feels a bit more freeform and unsettling, its shimmering, effects-heavy notes – wrapped in a layer of lo-fi fuzz – crawling along in a druggy haze before quickening nightmarishly at the end. Good stuff!

Thinking it silly that a “drone guy” would select the 7” as a primary way to release his music, I used to chuckle at the never-ending stream of 45s that came out of the Azusa Plane; seemed like he was in a race with Randall Nieman to see who could crank out the most split singles (and yes, the inevitable Azusa Plane / Fuxa split does exist). But there is something to be said for what DiEmilio was doing. It’s easy for such an act to get lazy on CD or LP, stretching everything out to 10+ minutes and needing to care little about flab or self-editing. The Azusa Plane consciously chose to release a great deal of material on a format where the time constraints are relatively rigid, and applying that necessary discipline to the drone-rock genre made for some tightly-constructed records where no moment was wasted… these are often, incredibly, actual singles in the classic sense, just filtered through an ultra-psychedelic non-pop sensibility. Smart dude. Needless to say, it would be fantastic to have all of these songs – and there are a lot of them — compiled in one convenient place.

The Asteroid #4 - Here We Go

(Rainbow Quartz, 2006)

Quite a surprise to see this one sitting in the sales racks in 2006. After skidding off the road into country-rock territory for the Honeyspot debacle three years earlier, I’d figgered Asteroid #4 for dead. Not so! These songs straddle the dense guitar-psych of the earliest material and the bright, peppy pop of King Richard’s Collectibles; even if it’s a retreat, it’s a definite step back in the right direction. Unfortunately, the hooks aren’t nearly up to snuff and the lyrics, as always, remain dreadful (one boneheaded verse is built on an around/down/found rhyme), so this doesn’t quite take gold in the comeback sweeps. Still, non-LP B-side “What I Really Want to Do,” the stronger of the two tracks, is passable dream/space-informed altpop with unusually fine singing, and it would’ve stood at least a fighting chance on college radio or 120 Minutes fifteen years ago.

The Asteroid #4 - What A Sorry Way to Go

(Lounge, 1997)

For its second single, the Asteroid #4 takes it all back to ’67 on “What A Sorry Way to Go,” droning, Eastern-tinged psychedelia with groovy pitter-patter hand-percussion. The fat bassline and strong vocal melody indicate that the sitars and such aren’t just startling gimmickry meant to distract from a non-song… this one is legit, and probably would have been a winner even without the layer of added instrumentation. But the rich, relatively intricate arrangement really does work; catchy and beautifully put together, it trumps similar material being churned out at the time by bands like the Brian Jonestown Massacre and Saddar Bazaar. Certainly the best original in the Asteroid #4’s catalog, and one of the better songs to come out of the whole “Psychedelphia” scene. The B-side guitar-drone – “Sometimes I Roll My Eyes Into the Back of My Head to See What I’m Thinking – is a throwaway, but it’s an appropriate sonic companion to the main event on the other side.

While it’s unclear whether there’s a physical release or if it’s digital-only, the band has recently gathered all of its singles and compilation tracks (including a great Spacemen 3 cover) on B-Sides & Singles 1997-2007. Freeloaders can stream the album here.

The Asteroid #4 - The CIA Took My Dog Away

(Lounge, 1995)

The Asteroid #4 is one of those groups that, as the saying goes, plays its record collection. Which is generally fine with me, because it has always seemed like there’s a lot of overlap when it comes to our fave-raves (but what was with that dire country-rock album, doodz??). The band ties its wagon to the early-90s shoegazers on its debut single, focusing on volume and density of sound as opposed to the strictly Floydian space-cadet moves the fellas would soon be pulling. This record actually sounds quite similar to Philly pals the Lilys’ contemporaneous Eccsame the Photon Band album – and whoa, DIG IT, the Asteroid #4 would work with Kurt Heasley in the studio and follow his group into Brit Invasion territory a few years down the road.

“The CIA Took My Dog Away,” with the gentle, quavering guitars of its verses and the churning, distorted guitars of the choruses, is your basic yet successful shoegaze-pop construction, and a fine way to kick off a career …even if those reverbed-to-death vocals are a bit much. On a rather less interesting note, the first half of “Mellow Beach” drifts and throbs, barely there, before the effects-laden guitars come rushing in to boot ya in the pants for the last few minutes. While neither song has anything of note going in terms of originality or structure (and “Mellow Beach” isn’t much melodically, either), it’s hard to be too grumpy about anything that gives you a few blasts of satisfying MBV-lite. Buck up; it’s a fine mess o’ aural comfort food.

Assassination - Snipercrust

(Get Revenge, 2006)

Swedish nasties crank out eight songs on seven inches. Breakneck tempos, non-stop drum-pummel…it’s fast and aggressive, yeah, it’s just that there’s not very interesting guitar- or drumwork anywhere. Everything bleeds together into this sodden mush, and it never gets the ol’ ticker thump-thumping the way such a record oughta. Granted, the dual vocals trading off lines on every song are an interesting touch – one guy has a scratchy, “evil” voice, the other has yer standard deep bellow – and some of the simple, vicious lyrics are entertaining. But I dunno. Coming at this as a non-genrehead, there’s nothing here that grabs me; it’s not fun enough, fucked enough, or over-the-top enough.

Archipelago Brewing Co. - Criswell

(Nuf Sed, 1989)

Archipelago Brewing Co. is (was) a buncha weirdos from San Francisco – including some of the Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 guys, Brandan Kearney, and “FOUR GODDAMN GIRL DRUMMERS” – and this is their one and only single. So let me lay some straight-talk on you: it’s a bona-fide doozy! “Criswell” lurches along to the dinosaur-stomp of those lady percussionists, and the rhythm guitarists thrash away in a delightfully repetitive manner while the lead makes high-pitched little squiggles atop it all. A slower, heavier TFUL282 is a fair enough (and lazy enough) description. The guitars get noisier and the drummers get buried – this record’s sound quality isn’t so hot – on “Fresh Fish,” a grim tribute to the titular ocean-dweller, while “Wussies-R-Us” is a pretty, watery-sounding guitars-and-samples tune. When the full band is a-thunderin’, as on “Criswell” and “Fresh Fish,” the music coming outta the speakers is certainly loud, but you get the sense that this must’ve been absolutely BRUTAL when heard live. Like good brutal.

The Amazing Criswell, who appears on the sleeve, was into the fantastic, so I wonder what he’d have thought of this tidbit: I had been searching for this 7” for quite a while, and when I finally did locate a copy, it was in a store in which I was killing time while waiting for band associate Neil Hamburger to take the stage at a club next door. Weird.

Wait! Before wrapping up, let’s get back to A.B.C. guitarist, tape-manipulator, and vocalist Brandan Kearney, a man about whom you can learn all sortsa interesting facts in this great interview. It’s going to be a while before I reach the “J” reviews, so I want to slip in a mention of another of the (many, many) bands with which Kearney was involved, Job’s Daughters. Those folks released a cover of the Cowsills’ “Prophecy of Daniel and John the Divine,” and it is THE BEST SINGLE THAT I OWN. Really. If you have the ability to hear sound, please do your listening-thingies a favor and find that doggone record immediately. It’s out there; I own two!

Arcade Fire - Rebellion (Lies)

(Rough Trade, 2005)

You know that Arcade Fire released five singles in the UK – plus another in America – during Funeral’s shelf-lifespan? FIVE! From a ten-song album! OK, fine, the third single (“Cold Wind”) was a non-LP track, but still! No denying that the thing was piping-hot shit! These songs were absolutely inescapable for well over a year… bars, parties, seeping through the walls of my housemate’s bedroom. And “Rebellion (Lies)” was definitely one of the biggies. That nagging, repetitive piano bangin’ away all percussively in there is key to the operation, and it serves the same function as the rhythm guitar in “Power Out”: it’s catchy, but also keeps the listener tense as the song builds to its inevitable full-throated, instro-blast climax. It’s not so different from the general template followed by other tracks on the album, but it’s still a dark, fun, powerful-sounding single that qualifies as another play-it-loud winner for the group. Now turn dat white vinyl over and take a snooze to an is-what-it-is, ragged live version of the A-side that doesn’t deserve much comment. Boy, given the lack of quality B-sides, they sure ran outta outtakes and other studio whatnot mighty quick for a young band.

&: Am I crazy, or does the Arcade Fire sound a whole lot like a more rock-based Polyphonic Spree? Listening to this record, I don’t think I’m too nutty in saying that. Check out the voices, and the way both bands build and release tension. Huh!

Arcade Fire - Neighborhood #3: Power Out (live)

(Rough Trade, 2005)

Another “Power Out” single, but this time around we get a live version. And in the grand tradition of live recordings, it’s a little bit faster, a little bit noisier… & there’s really nothing else to say. Sorry. The flip comes from a New York show where David Byrne joined the group onstage to sing the Talking Heads’ “This Must Be the Place.” The big revelation here is, in hearing the two voices (A-) side by (B-) side, the vocal similarities between Byrne and Win Butler become clear: both have that sorta nervous energy and the tendency to “swoop,” pitch- and volume-wise. Hot dang! The performance itself is pretty turgid, and seems to have been included here more to spotlight “hey look who we got to play with!” than to document anything musically exciting. Not to be Brigadier Bummer, but neither recording adds much to anyone’s life. At most, the disc proves that (a) the Arcade Fire does a great and faithful job performing its material live, and (b) the band had shot to the top o’ the heap fast enough to have an elderly celeb like David Byrne hop on the mic by the end of its first national tour.

However! High-fives and backslaps are in order here, because it’s not every day that a group releases different versions of an A-side and thus (kinda) tries to give the masses their money’s worth in the multiple-format-single racket. Sure, it would’ve been better if they’d just released a four-song CD maxi single instead of two 7”s, but at least they’re making a teensy effort not to bilk the consumer.

Arcade Fire - Neighborhood #3: Power Out

(Rough Trade, 2005)

Arcade Fire was thinking BIG from the get-go: “Power Out” is a massive-sounding, stadium-sized single 4 REALZ. The only things that might indicate “indie” here are the tinkling xylophone and the quiver-n-yelp vocals; the rest is ultra-confident Rock chug-a-lug. It’s an exciting and impressive piece o’ work, with an almost dance-y rhythm guitar part keeping the energy up throughout. The B-side is a rougher version recorded prior to the influx of label money, and shows how the band would have approached the Funeral material had it remained unsigned. The result isn’t radically different from what was finally released, but it does retain some of the raw, Mercury Rev-esque charm of the self-titled EP. Nevertheless, that big-stage, fist-pumpin’ ambition punches its way through, even on this no-budget take.

And I don’t know if it’s just my copy, but the vinyl on this one sounds AWFUL. Like unacceptably bad. What gives?

Appliance - Outer / Rev A

(Earworm, 1998)

It’s hard to say which influence’s name is most appropriate to invoke here. The Neu beat is in place, but there’s also the kind of groovy shimmer that only Harmonia seemed to have down. Either way, this is total Kraut-style goodness from youngsters who clearly aced their studies of the old masters. Solid, propulsive, synth/drums/bass stuff from start to finish, and neither song appears in identical form on any other release. Y’know, it’s sad, really; Appliance put out more than its share of great records – “Outer” among them – before quietly breaking up and getting tossed into the dollar-bin of history. So be smart! Take advantage of the situation and hunt ’em all down for cheap. Well worth the effort, and I would not lie.

Apples in Stereo - Everybody Let Up

(Earworm, 2000)

Thanksgiving is over, but there’s another TURKEY in the house: this single! Ha! Ha! Oh, ha ha ha! It’s almost certain that I am the first person to ever make such a joke, so let’s celebrate my genius and wit with some grog! I will top off your stein. WHEW! Let me wipe the tears of mirth from my eyes before we continue.

OK.

There’s ample guitarfuzz here that hearkens back to the early days of the Apples, but the empty spaces in the A-side’s midtempo ode to laziness make it feel half-assed and unfinished. Lyrics were never the band’s strong point, and emphasizing the (similarly weak) vocals, as Apples in Stereo increasingly did, never did these folks any favors. “Behind the Waterfall,” while frustratingly brief, is definitely the better of the two sides, featuring a gentle, tripped-out verse with a ripping distorto-chorus. This would have fit especially well on Her Wallpaper Reverie, the group’s concept/psych high-point, and it’s a shame that it was booted to the B-side of a follow-up single.

Earworm did its typically careful job with the quality control here (thick colored vinyl, attractive fold-out sleeve), but given that both songs soon popped up on the domestic “Look Away” EP and the bargain-bin “The Bird That You Can’t See” single, there’s absolutely no need to pay high import prices for this release. Nor was there any pressing need to do so in 2000, when it first came out. And yet I did. Which is why I was (and remain) a total sucker and a record label’s best friend.

Apples in Stereo - Man You Gotta Get Up

(SpinART/Elephant 6/Sire, 1998)

“Man You Gotta Get Up” (b/w “The Golden Flower”) isn’t really a single; it was included as a bonus 45 in the vinyl pressing of the Apples in Stereo’s Tone Soul Evolution album. Generous. But we can still take a moment to pan the thing, because this is a pretty flaccid slab o’ wax. Plopped front-and-center, Schneider’s thin, nasal voice simply isn’t strong enough or compelling enough to carry these songs, and there isn’t the punchy, reckless pop energy of the earliest singles. Shiny-sounding and crafted, it’s almost like a – dare I say it – psychedelecized Weezer, fer cryin’ out loud. The dirty guitar that snarls in the choruses of “Man You Gotta Get Up” is encouraging, but neither tune really offers much of interest beyond the occasional instrumental trick. Honestly, if these mediocrities truly had to be released, a bonus single was the right outlet and should set the proper expectations for the listener. Instead of hunting this disc down, just sit around and wait for the inevitable rarities comp.

Trivia fun! Tone Soul Evolution was the only Elephant 6 record to be released under the auspices of a major label. The next time you’re at a party, pull THAT one outta your cap and you'll be the champion of conversation, newly nicknamed Mr. Popular. I promise.

Apples in Stereo - Hypnotic Suggestion EP

(Bus Stop, 1994)

Want to hear about something gross that happened this very afternoon? There I was, drinking my iced coffee at the local iced-coffeatorium, reading about celebrity tax evaders in New York City (John Cale, how could you?!), when I happened to glance down into my cup after a final, satisfied slurp. A sickening sight was to greet my eye: a BUG, a little black beetle of some sort, was resting there among the ice. “Gah!” I choked, and then noticed a second bug, this one a fat, inch-long, maggoty looking thing, sitting nearby. After spitting into a few napkins and the trash can, I took the evidence up to the counter and politely suggested the staff consider cleaning out the ice chest. The girl was suitably apologetic, and pulled five dollars in hush-money from the register. So the moral of the story is: drink bugs, get five bucks.

You know what would be similarly gross? Finding a worm in an apple that you were munchin’ on.

Hey, speaking of apples, I’m listening to a single by the APPLES in Stereo as I type this! Weird! What a great coincidence! What an ideal and totally unplanned segue! No, I’m not chuckling nervously; why do you ask? Let’s just talk about the record.

“Hypnotic Suggestion” is cleaner than the first single, but still has that trebly, grungy four-track sound. And while the lo-fi aesthetic remains in place, the songwriting is obviously increasing in complexity, with more ambitious vocal arrangements – the swooping and sighing backing vox on “Touch the Water” are especially satisfying – that hint at the Pet Sounds worship soon to blossom in the studio. All four songs are warm, bouncy guitar-pop, Robert Schneider & co at their simple best: rocking, catchy, fuzzy. A near-perfect 7”, and a perfect example of why Apples in Stereo was ever worth caring about.

The Science Faire album gathers up all of these early singles and loose ends, and remains a good place to sink a few dollars.

The Apples - Tidal Wave EP

(Elephant 6, 1993)

Ooh, a historically significant one: “Tidal Wave” is both the first Apples record (before “in Stereo” was tacked onto the name) and the first real-deal Elephant 6 Recording Company release. Listening to the disc over a decade later, it’s easy to hear the beginnings of the various branches of the E6 family in these songs – the lo-fi wackiness; the slightly-askew, Nuggets-y pop sensibilities; the oddball lyrical concerns; the homemade psychedelia… it’s all here in noisy, embryonic form. (The E6 band that followed most closely in this record’s footsteps was often the underrated Minders, though with far cleaner production.) Robert Schneider became a real studio trickster within a few years – and late-period Apples in Stereo albums suffocate under their overthunked-ness – so it’s fun to hear him just hit the “record” button on this one and let the band bash through these six ragged pieces of psych-tinged power-pop. Oh, and Apples do record geeks proud with a 16-page art/lyrics booklet and inserts up the wazoo: a poster, a sticker, a customer-satisfaction survey (!).

The Animals - Monterey

(MGM, 1967)

The Monterey Pop Festival went down back in ’67, and ace reporter Eric Burdon was ON THE SCENE, digging it all left and right, to give the record-buying public the scoop.

NEWSFLASH! “Even the cops grooved with us!”

This is just one of many Animals songs built around Burdon’s name-checking and wide-eyed LUV of the music world’s peacetastic brother-/sisterhood. I had always assumed that this rather annoying style was a later development, something he started doing after he had his mind blown by the SF hippies and formed the turned-on “new” Animals in early 1967, but in fact the first song on the first UK album features a discourse on the history of r’n’r, right up through the Beatles and the Stones. Huh; guess that was just Burdon’s thing. So anyway, yeah, the ultra-earnest lyrics are an embarrassing drag, but the music’s a decent – if sleek – mix of sitar, horns, and prominent bass, far different from the organ-centric stuff for which the Animals are better known. However: Every time Burdon gushes over someone – The Who! Jimi Hendrix! The Grateful Dead! Ravi Shankar! – the band plays a few notes meant to give us an idea of what that particular dude sounded like. Needless to say, the whole operation reeks of cheese.

Things improve on the non-LP “Ain’t That So,” a fun freak-empowerment tune (“Freak on! Freak on!”) with some fine shouting from ol’ Eric, and an overall beat-group style that sounds straight outta ’65. Recommended!

Animal Collective - Polly / Purple Bottle

(white label, 2006)

Legal whatsis woulda kept these songs off any “official” Animal Collective record, so AC pulls a fast one and sneaks ‘em out on a white-label 45. The cover of “Polly” is done in a spooky, shuddering, acoustic style, though the ridiculous vocals make it feel like a goof. Not worth puzzling over that too much, cuz the real prize is on the other side: Great clattering percussion on the crazed, all-over-the-place “Purple Bottle,” and the bonus Stevie Wonder rip (“I just called to say…”) in the middle is a nice touch before we get into the whoop-n-holler end-section. Song’s a bizarro rush, tapping into the same teetering weirdness that Barrett nailed on “Vegetable Man” and “Scream Thy Last Scream.” But happier, almost to the point of being manic.

Limited to 500, supposedly, and long gone. Sorry bub.

Animal Collective - Who Could Win a Rabbit

(FatCat, 2004)

I was working for Bubblecore Records – FatCat’s American distributor at the time – the summer this came out, so I have many sweaty memories of days spent filling order after order for “Who Could Win a Rabbit.” The song itself isn’t among the band’s strongest moments (but my ARMS sure were strong after lifting all them boxes of vinyl! WHEE!). It’s a sunny, ecstatic gallop that signaled a move toward a slightly more pop-focused Animal Collective, and it features one of the group’s standard psychotic-preschool-singalong melodies, but it’s too short to really take hold in the mind and ear. There is an entertaining video for the single, and the visual element actually adds quite a bit to the track. “Baby Day,” meanwhile, is a surprisingly convincing mid-/late-’70s Brian Wilson impression. Layered Beach Boy-style vocals and the lyric “She’s gonna have a baby” repeated over and over atop a sparse electronic rhythm and minimal synth, it’s just the sort of charming toss-off that crazytown Brian would have stuck onto the likes of The Beach Boys Love You.

AMP - Beyond

(Wurlitzer Jukebox, 1997)

There could not POSSIBLY be a worse night for reviewing Brit psychsters AMP. I am just back from the big Van Halen reunion show at Madison Square Garden, to which I wore my tight pants and sleazy high-schooler moustache (ladies: you know where to reach me), and after a long night well-spent in the presence of cartoon-rock greatness I am understandably a bit nonplussed by this disc’s patience-stretching, spacey atmospherics. But I'll try.

The watery, ultra-distorted “Beyond” sounds like the guitar-driven beauty of early Flying Saucer Attack with chilly, tribal percussion underneath… makes sense, cuz Richard Amp is an FSA collaborator from days of old. There are some female vocals on here, but I think the whole thing might have worked just as well as an instrumental; the singing is too ethereal to be valuable/intelligible from a lyrics standpoint, yet too high up in the mix to weave itself into the trippy-time musical fabric (as Dave Pearce's whispery vox did so effectively in FSA). But OK, fine; it’s not so bad. “Lutin” is an inconsequential, drifting rumble with electronic effects echoing in the background, a totally-stoned throwaway B-side. Both these songs would sit more comfortably within the framework of a full-length; a 7” is not the proper home for either track. Just skip the single, buy an LP instead. Hey, did I mention that David Lee Roth took to the stage waving his giant red flag? And that they did “Mean Streets”? Wow! Even “Eruption” was almost tolerable!