30 October 2005

Jacques Berrocal "Paralleles" France '76



Is your bicycle broken? Don't let the joke run along, getting mighty sprightly ahead of you, strong stroke those spokes and become a muse sick wish with this man. The terrain is the map, scraping jiggly-wiggly pedal-metal, this is designed of the wide end of the track with lots of latitude for your longitudinal attitude readjustment frock cemented into the zone relegated for and scored in the free-form stratosphere invisible ink paste gumbo stilt throw. Charts? What charts? Improvisational is where it starts and barring one elegiacally perfected tune room at the 'Rock'n Roll Station,' reaching seekers freaking for a fixated melody embellished plea are left in the lurch sans the search.

Squelching neanderthal parrot. Charlie parks one lip asleep skip town. Blubbering chiggle-chaggled and you feel the teeth dangle impressionistic sputtering farts, soft squawks, rippling retorts amidst staccato sharps poking the jolly jester in the arse. Feel the breathing become part of the music, flittering mouse patter leads the trail to comforting and familiar, yet obtuse squall and response alliteration saucier and fluffier until pup-puh-puh-pum-pumpum-pumpeh makes smile.

Machinery. Strained kite string lollygag horn trill. Randomly interspersed impromptu comments seeming story in French. Before you know it, your shift at the fantasy avant-garde factory is over and you can go home to the next song.

Making a horse neigh. Staying the course lain. Jacques Berrocal has the power to ensconce with his deft use of independently structured spontaneous creation. These are ideas that may have been toyed around with before, but were not dropped to trollop unsuspecting ear cheers releasing fears that continual beat impressions are necessary for the mind to make connection directions with what seem like obtuse chortles colliding in space, bouncing, and the swerving wending the same path immediately.

The doormat reads 'everything is possible' - you are at the original 'second pirate session of a strange wax:' "Rock'n Roll Station" - Nurse With Wound covered this tune to great effect, naming an entire marvelous album afterwords in nepotistic frenzy alluding to the steady dour retelling in repetition of Vincent Taylor accompanied by steady 3-notes-bass thrung-thum-blugneah wheel spinning crank clickety-clack interference bells, whine on rubber, words slightly morphing elongated syllable perplex. 'Jacques bicycle is music to my ears, do you remember?' Final wheel screech click-tap matched for tring-a-ling fades to coughing, and frog, lighter, poured water, laughter, muted bike vamp, utensil plated tangle stop.

'Bric-a-brac' is over 25 minutes and takes the entirety of side two into submission. This is opus direction, outre style. Dining with pleasure, listening to all the sounds around wooing for flickered dispersion. Mounted violin parapet intermittently stroking a straddle, evolving rubato in anomalous supportive crumble. All in chip fin and disquieting escapes the face making master powerful, juiced avant-pounce by the ounce, poured in a splash at a time. Incorporating footfalls, plate wobble, pot lid organic percussion, string struck precision childlike mercurial atonal pluck, megaphone grunts, metal sheet wobbler, requisite pterodactyl shrills from elephantine monster spills of sonic departure ticket-stamped voucher felling the glacier hearts for the 'out-there' that is easy to feel 'in-here.' Sterile is not to be, cacophony reigns supreme and ropes the corralled scene warm blanket sheen away to cortex inner drum posed leaning to. Not to think of no, periodic shifts to rudimentary follow me simple attention. Getting surprised and being able, on follow stride short sublime, to then reel from getting trapped in the belly walrus shell again, a piano comping akimbo percussive scatter jagged swagger introduces itself and a winding horn innuendo distend blow. Coiled runs afterwards and the the the return of the sun melody 3-note upright-chunked stomp from the only verifiably structured tune, now accomplice typewriter in tow, rhythm sectionally lunch lurch unclothed jubilant quasi-musical stenography replete - a new narrator recalls fragmentary discussion of another whole whale of a history tale all together, a French accent giblet freshly mustachioed story: 'interested simultaneously by moving.. and by noises... like music... [...] you know what, I am just waiting for Vince... I mean, Rock'n Roll Station... I'm just waiting for him... always in love, but is not.. here.. anyway, go home, go on.. [...] during a surrealistic demonstration by the camelots of the king... what a strange thing he is making me doing... what a strange story.. you know I don't know what I am doing there.. you know, really... what a strange story, what a strange thing;' fade the flock out, big hawk lands throned. Swoon baboon new golden dongle spoon soon, put your cap tarts on, staring ague eyes open meden agan agar-agar. Everything is possible and this album just made it probable. 'We can do what we want to do.' Hear here.

19 October 2005

JAGGERY "In Lethe'" (EP) NYC, USA 2004



Mali's voice has the depth, charm, and finesse of a mermaid in distress. Her siren call enthralls listeners embracing the visceral and yet subdued caterwaul cooing that is her sublime vocal presence. Lethe is as likely a birthing ground for the sound as any. Entranced and certain of having one's cortexes erased of any ill-begotten thoughts and meanderings, this music relaxes our tight grip on reality, transporting readily. Supplanted in Hades for the duration, unmitigated immersion begets greedy quaffs of this divine musical elixir.

Peals of escape traipse along your face as the world fades from view, created anew from an intimately interior space. Likewise nightmarish and soporific, simultaneously hopeful and melancholic, purportedly diametric factions of the soul are mesmerized in tandem via polarized dynamics. Jaggery is expertly lethal in anthropomorphizing the riddled incubus rattle within this mortal coil. Wholeness binds and blinds us. The careening verse, 'I can never fill up this hole,' beaming powerfully from inside of the cavernous recesses in "7 Stone" could not be more of a truism.

Summarily shaking off the soot of humanity's foibles and subtly corralling the essence of phoenix ascent from the depths of a dark pupal id, this windswept prancing blurs fathomless. Not a single moment is spared their keen idiosyncrasy. Somersaulting lugubriously, structures tumultuously sprawl into an effortless sub-routine of rollicking acrobatics. Tension mounts opportunely to decidedly raucous peaks as melodic lines undulate, glowing and glistening underneath, bearing the weighty anticipation of soaring narcoleptic liberation. Do not sleep, be reborn.

15 October 2005

VIVAHEAD "Cosmic Dunce" UK 2003


(Pulper Music 04, CDr)

If Tricky had a Henry Cow stepchild living with the eyeball kings, this is the electronica-infested horse it rides on. Upon inspection, all teeth are coming up golden, chomping at the glittering bit. Slipping in and out of mixed expression, these blokes intimate a private space that is heady and magnetically engaging by turns. Avant-garde interludes elongate the overall effect, gluing together keen compositional prowess along the corridor of deft and intelligently executed trip-hop stylings. Flowing effervescently out of context, minimalist escapades allow the air to bubble and breathe between jaggedly contrapuntal peaks of syncopated funky excursion. Amalgamating these modes bridges together seemingly unrelated bites of well-formulated song craft - periodically incorporating a vocoder droid in concert with various squelchy bird calls sets this electronic jungle in place.

The awkward beauty of classic 70s era Residents is evoked on more than one occasion, finessed and updated to integrate well with the times. Beats are smartly selected, throbbing staccato rhythms pound the terrain with ease as curiously introspective tinkles of thought arise and become referenced as sublime melodic lines over top. Grappling sonic strains eking from the atmosphere somehow brings their music back down to earth. Part of their strength resides in extending structures within piscine pieces.

Vivahead have created a world of their own, clearly evidenced here, the fourth release (of six) from this daring British duo. Filling distinctly separate voids within the confines of one album is certainly no lean feat. Marveling at what they have accomplished is not difficult.

STEREOKIMONO "Primosfera" Italy 2004



Right from the outset, this band's sound has a lyrical and endearing approach that poses a singularly emotive response from the listener. A great deal of lyricism is evident as soon as contact with this lovely piece of work is made. The depth of feeling from the guitarwork alone is deep in the sense that it harkens hazy images of the sensation I get from one of my periodic Franco Falsini fixes. I can see going on a jag for this band in the same way that those past masters push all my favorite little buttons. I am very glad to have been provided a promo copy of something that might have slipped my radar otherwise.

There is much more at play here on different levels (the supporting cast is exactly on point and ready to shoot free throws). At this juncture, nearing the end of the second song, I still feel the need to rave on a little further about the guitarist, Antonio Severi. Don't laugh, but the lines spewing out of his guitar speak to me beyond smalltalk with a beautiful yet vapid woman at a cocktail party. Silky threads of notes weave a cocoon around my head that feels soft like rayon yet has a sheen like a polyester/nylon blend. This is the kind of playing that makes some reach for the vaseline or at least some lotion to smooth out the motion of playing their air guitar to this. If these hands weren't already slippery from my sweaty palms, I'd be making that reach too, hopefully the growing tufts of hair won't absorb the slickness or ruin my makeup. The playing is hot like a tall transvestite who really isn't one..

Six and a half minutes into the second song, 'Rosso Di Luna' we are treated to an ethnic percussion Steve Tibbets flavored feast spiced up on an electronic opus inflected platter replete with digeridoo doing the 23 skidoo on your frontal lobe. This short section alone would be an entire song for another band. It is nice to see a fresh new band tackle the complexities of building tunes that morph and shift gears this boldly. It works, it works very well.

Taking it back to the beginning for a moment, I can relate to you that this album begins in a space excursion type of exploration akin to a slow motion landing in the “Land of the Lost.” It is not until 2 minutes that a heavily syncopated RIO-ish groove breaks out all over your face like a berserker sleestack keeping the pace. Elements ranging from a xylophone-esque percussive attacks to the fury and creativity elicited from a half-speed Chris Cutler on a regular drumkit provides ample propulsion jettisoning ticka-takka emulsion. Affected keyboard swells mingle in well with a variety of disparate electronic sounds - from the chirping of bionic birds to humming crickets and tingling chimes interspersed throughout.

It is not until almost 6 minutes into the track that English vocals are presented which have the effect of a stream of consciousness radio broadcast over a fine backbeat. The subject matter of this first alluring chant is based on, and I paraphrase: "people visualizing and projecting their own future in a positive way." Frankly, subject matter aside, it would not be out of place on This Heat's "Deceit," Dreamies' "Auralgraphic Entertainment" or perhaps even a Skeleton Crew outtake. Less than a minute is all that they take to lay out this sublime message of lucidity on this fabulous musical trip taking a dip in the pool of cosmic consciousness.

This opening track closes with what sounds like a sasquatch trouncing through crunchy snow as heard via a tiny stethoscope right after everything slows down just before it. 'Onda Beta' is as good of an introduction to the rest as any 70's progressive classic. This band is quite melodic, but yet still exploring the outer boundaries of shifting polyrhythms on a regular basis.

The third track is a climbing staircase of a monster. It is hard to describe what is going on with the variety of instruments being deployed here, suffice it to say that by the time 'Bahnhofstrasse' rolls around we do not want to come back from vacation and go to work. To give you an idea of the palette afforded to this group, I shall list the instruments this killer trio employs: Antonio Severi: acoustic, electric and midi guitars, real & virtual keyboards, electronic hand percussions; Alessandro Vittorio: electric bass, keyboards, theremin (trk .1), digeridoo (trk. 2), tibetan bells (trk 3); Cristina Atzori: acoustic and electric drums and percussion.

'Xetrov 5' follows and has their second fragment of intelligible speech covering the ground of "the power of the word works innocently and always tries to be round," is spit out in much the same way as the above before a chunky and lumpy overdrive is set into motion. It's hard to keep up with the electronic warbles greasily spilled out over high-speed guitar runs, pitter-pattering drums This is the kind of melange of sound that could just as easily have you bopping your head or losing your sh*t while peaking on the psychedelic trip of your choice. Did I happen to mention that unintelligible backwards whispers
in Italian poke out here and there? Three-quarters of the way into it, that takes over and this track hovers in the air like so many northern lights before fading out.

Kicking in like a dirge on keyboards, 'L'Uomo Nuvola' begins taking us in a No Wave Rock in Opposition mode that makes it hard for you to control the liquid spasms being elicited from your body. When I hear this track, I really have no idea what to do with myself. This is really cool and goes through more changes than Michael Jackson at the plastic surgeon. Sorry, I won't get into it.. or any of the other cuts for that matter. Get this and you will not be disappointed, only if you are interested in complex music that tastes like wine at times and goes well with the chicken, that is. By the way, 'Salamandra' & 'La Soffita Volante' shred, hard. Their self-penned tag of “Psychophonic Oblique Rock” is right on the $, sound as a pound baby! Give me a few fat hits of what StereoKimono is wearing, I can dig it.

FROGG CAFE "Noodles" - USA 6/26/02



"Noodles" is the big cat kit and kaboodle, get your choogle-doogle train a-rollin', this motherjumper is strollin'. Funk me, chump me, baby, pump me full o' this Froggy pasta love. If you don't like it, Sussy will blind you with refracted stagelights and drown you in a pool of his sweat, aisle bet...

Starting off in a nice Italian joke dialogue scherzo, lé Café lets you know this is going to be a wild and loose one, better than any of that lumpy Mr. Toad's bumpy olde ride. As a matter of fact, that's where they start at. Smooth cruising into the land of fusion, slowly building a tasteful crescendo on 'Eliche' at trademark length = 23:34. These blokes know how to build it up nice (& I'm not talking Legos, either). Development is one of their specialties and this track is no exception. Like an early electric Miles Davis side, the wichi-wuonnhh and oooppie-douuete drops to slither across this shiny platter, lathering and frothing it right up around the seven minute mark. Now, this is no longer available (as it was a limited release anyhow), so pop on over to this website and buy your download:


- -> http://www.froggcafe.com/albums.html <- -


. . .so you Khan listen to them carry this into Canterbury realms for yourself, I'm moving on. . . but before I do, have to mention that there is a touch of spacy-ness in here as well, no not Kevin Spacey (you silly goose), but musically, you can be sure to expect the Usual Suspects for the genres mentioned while your silly little birdbrain rolls over on itself flapping away, being cooked violently over this ferocious dish. Yeah, I'm 16:00 into it and now, really, you will have to go and listen for your own pleasure. The Italian method also abounds.

'Fusilli' corners the market on the out there vibe from Sensations Fix drinking Tangerine soup (Ruby)con carne in a livid Dream and then doubles it up over a pole to sear it off at the edges towards the end. After gently wending electronic schism, the track pops off its top. Thumpty-bumpty Zeuhl earth-bass meets the sinuous guitar of a few Phil Miller-isms pasted over the pointilization of a one Fred Frith-y if he wasn't always gnoshing so hearty RIO. Wendy, windey, gosh me blimey licks from the the stringy-stick, abrupt ending.

'Orecchiette' immediately GRABS YOU into an Italian symphonic flair corn pone.

The same coda is repeated for the 'Tagliarini' to come:

Ooooh, my neck is bopping, there's no stopping the writing to music this now, wow - - -VOLL-YOOM - - here we zOOM........ I am not heading in to work (just yet) to write this long overdue review cause Sussy is tired of "bee-hotching" me into doing it and now I really remember the funky brown cow that told me to write about this album first. Pop and lock on a crock pot this track is super hot and it sizzles up a side of Sussloaf, the other white beat. Hard to say how and where these honkies got their Fonzie fonkies, but they got 'em & gettum good - dig their smack-lip trip coming off these fingertips - I shouldn't hafta' tell you much about the music since you can see how my verbals are inspired so, but I will try to do so any whey so you don't curdle your milkypuffs trying to ride my cipher caper blessed by nature supe-reams. Going back to the top, coda is a lively piano riff repeated freakeebo, tun-ta-tun-tunt-tun, tun-ta-tun-tunt-tuyn-taa REPEAT ad infinitum (for a while, anyway). "I spent a lot of time in the outback. . . I love the koalas and the wallabees. . ." is the vocalese being spewed on the interspersal throughout. Sometimes the bass follows along and repeats the coda too, when that's not happening, feel the grumble rumble riddim - this ain't no pasty raggy-gay. Paganotti comes to mind. Drumkit skitters throughout, right on time and propulsion jet-fuel-duelling to incite big bites of 'get busy and rock this taping joint!' Ponty wishes he was on this set for the violin licks soaring around the mephistophoskies. And yes, the trumpet pumps it. This mugger puts the stun to your head for a little over 14 minutes. By the time it's over, you feel like you just met Charles Bronson on the train at ten to midnight - whapping listeners upside the head like a sock full of quarters & leavin' 'em there with a funny-lookin' hair-dryer contraption-thing, eyes glazed over and something that looks like snot caked on pants turning into crystal like Arthur Lee said on 'Live and Let Live' in "Forever Changes." If it weren't for the rave advance verbiage about the upcoming "Fortunate Observer of Time" - I would be ranking this with the equivalency diploma of what the aforementioned album o' Love signifies for the succinctness of the musical massage. Now I have to wait for my advance Promo copy to tell if its true - this time, I promise you Froggy goons that the review will come on strong and soon in time to boon. 'Tagliarini' ends with: "Keep an eye out for the Dingoes." - Frickin' Ze Le Parc right, exit stage yikes, this is a HOT ONE - d'ya get that from this spluttering blubbering yet?

The last track, 'Capelli Dangelo,' is nothing short of a lost Magma meets Fusioon in a padded Flubber room, sans the Kobaian with the ray-gun falling mainly on the playin', crunch taters shredded on the slide w/ Mashing Molé sauce session. The last (laughing) words are "Didja' like it?" My response, as if you could not tell awww-ready, is a resounding YES!

So, if you like your fusion to be well-informed by Zeuhl, Italian symph & hot prog chicks* - this is IT!! The ticket for you is "Noodles" and a nice tall brewy-oowy-ooh!

*Not viable/available in all areas.

DEBILE MENTHOL - Switzerland 1982

"Emile Au Jardin Patrologique"



Like a juggernaut protozoan escapade, Debile Menthol slides on the scene slick and grooving to an alternate universe soundtrack of goofy madness and mayhem. This is a calculated complex scry for your cortexes to engage with music on a hairpin curve course straight ahead to fun, set your mind bogglers to stun! With deft and ease, this crew glides through the most intricate of melodic twists this side of road-runnering it past Pecos Bill and his hat is still floppy-floatin' in the air before the first cut, 'A Nos Mamans,' is over.

The next track, 'Mort Aux Dehaus,' keels over in moves like Cassiber with a tight sound that hangs delicately in the balance of the sweet magic that can come from synchronous improvisation. it is hard to tell if the song is composed or if they zoned out together there and felt the vibe crawl out..

After that we get a treat akin to the antics of the famed Etron Fou Leloublan with syncopated jitteriness atop Gong-like tight guitar licks like those found on "Camembert Electrique" excepting that they are much cleaner and crisp to slicing you down on it's sword hand steadfast hilt. The song ends with a burp and was called: 'La Jupe'.

Then we get treated to some Teutonic innovation bubbling over and replete with elecronic gurglings and experimentations atop of it before drums and violin take over with the sound of the wind on 'Je Regarde Par la Fenetre.'

'Crash Que Peut' comes right back at you with the energy levels of Etron Fou Leloublan carrying an attache-case full of Albert Marcoeur and Patrick Forgas in tow. Excellent food for the mind indeed, makes one want to brush up on their french.. and I don't mean bread or kissing.`';o)

Side Two splashes the tanz with some of my faevorite Rock in Opposition licks and grooves. Swiftly out of the gate there comes a barreling little jaunt by the name of'Stamoi de Cousu.' Absolutely mesmerizing, I tell ya'. The interplay from the violin, drums and bass loops a bandanna around the head of any wayward sonic cowboy. Not to duped, the next track, 'Tres Amusant Major' slips right in afterwards segueing the listener on a roller coaster ride through woodwinds, percussion and sharply executed guitar parts still clouded with a clever violin circuitous electrical blaze.

A freaked out locomotive train follows quickly paced and generally along the lines of the Yugoslavian Quatebriga and Begnagrad. Which switches up on us mid-stream to provide two new and fresh approaches of momentary no wave into a downtown sound clincher to cinch the ending of 'Tante Agathe.'

Recalling the best moments of Francois Breant mingled back to devious drumming harkening Pip Pyle around 1971, 'Coupe-Rose' attacks.

Majestically soaring into an avant-garde modern Bartokian dark classical Univers Zero cum Art Zoyd momentary foray towards the Zeuhl school, 'Spacio Cib' tightens up the belts on your jag while warming the seats for another vamp into Albert Marcoeur/Etron Fou Leloublan territories. It gets maniacal as the song progresses in weaving these elements together to a mad swirling dervish of an insane sound with vocalese that invokes hallucinatory flashbacks evoking the ghost of Henry Cow past or at least the Cow of Henry bassoon pastiche past.

Self-reflexive and sharp, these cats lope off into a slowed down guttural rocker which sounds like a new wave killer waking up, groggy and really wanting to get down to business. The ether is too thick and gravity crushes him down as the speed manipulation as 'Rien' ends this fine album. Exciting is an understatement for the effect this record has. Truly unique, original, flavourful and refreshing.

DEBILE MENTHOL - Switzerland 1985

"Battre Campagne"



Rollicking and bounding right out the door comes Bim-Bam with a little bit further down the path engendered on their first album, "Debile Menthol." These blokes sure do know how to lock an *over the top* groove and keep it bouncy and undulating under the trickiest time signatures of any (and they hold their own quite well, I might add).

Next up we get into another hyper-syncopated dervish of a tune with flashing keyboard vamps and stutter-stops led by the drum kit. Add wallops of free blowing and you have as good a chance at keeping up with this as you would in defining all the ingredients of a smorgasbord. Just when you thought you knew what the song was about, they cut it in half, right down the middle, and switch gears wholesale. Effects are drenched in by the liter while male and female vocals drop into the mix all slippery-like with a Gilli Smyth type of space whisper hanging around near the conclusion crescendo happens. Somewhere in this dense mix, Bout de Mou had been morphed into 'A Quoi Pensent-Ils' where the fairest vocals of them all resides.

'Avalanche' tumbles right by your ice fort to recapitulate kind of in the manner that The Residents might if they had chops. Guitar licks akin to the illustrious Fred Frith can be found by the pound later on in this jaunt, solid. The Etron Fou Leloublan and Albert Marcoeur elements are still present on this album if not with a softer edge ala Frank Zappa.

If an accordion could eat mushrooms, it would feel just as schizophrenic and frenetically charged as this track: 'Mieux Vaut d'Ecker'. Drums set a propulsive bed as the dreams of sounding like a violin strike this Kafka-esque concoction of a metamorphosis replete with neighing horse sounds towards the apex on a wigging section that would not be out of place in a mid-period Plastic People of the Universe album

Flip it over and you get more of the same wholesome tomfoolery. 'A Chacun son Accent' warms up the hotplate real easy-like with a catchy riff slapped up against the gate. The melody pours in and one can't help but to fall in love with the marvelous sounds this crew can concoct and aurally conjugate right before our very ears. Again, not far from Etron, but this time with basslines right out of Skeleton Crew and Catherine Jauniaux like exhortations.

'Caduta Massi' takes us on yet another turn for the better advancement of higher vibrational thought patterns draped and masked with fetters made of pure three-ring madness gold. Fine guitar plucking interspersed across a leafy bed bass drum/snare/high-hat lettuce doused generous heaps of violin drizzled right on top as spice. This is the kind of tune that cleanses a palate right up and makes the listener take notice of the sound which matures steadily as the LP progresses.

The title track, 'Battre Campagne,' and the closer, 'Cul De Sac,' continue along in equally new and exciting musical avenues, never a dull moment here ladies and gentlemen!

GUNTHER SCHICKERT - Germany 1975

"Samtvogel (Including Bird)"



Like an alien mothership landing on your fanny, Gunther Schickert's deep heavy ooze dripping slab of teutonic electronic bliss through treated mayhem overcomes you. This is probably what it sounded like inside of Jimi Hendrix's brain stem under that LSD-soaked tie-dyed bandana onstage - totally lit and lividly lucid, another planet opens up a searing tunnel through space and time while this sublime album plays on. Heralded as an underground classic for decades, we have "Samtvogel," an indiscriminate spacerocker's fantasy and diamond filled pocket through time and space. Working with overdubbed guitars never came off so thick with effects rife and rich. 'Apricot Brandy*' is a world unto itself wholly. NOTHING SOUNDS LIKE THIS! (*Well, actually, there's an 'Apricot Brandy II' on the followup, "Uberfallig," albeit not actually achieving the same insane headspace as this - very, very nice in it's own right, though.

'Kriegsmaschinen Fahrt Zur Holle (Tr.: War Machines Travel to the Holle)' launches itself *directly* past the stratosphere on its own mission heading directly to the very heart of the cosmos. The takeoff is delayed with a slow churning rise (not to worry, Houston, there is no problem) until it is clear that the ozone has been shucked off and there is nothing left but the growling intensity of careening through outer space. A soundtrack to a movie about being there never gurgled with the resonance of this. It's a long track clocking in at 16:58 which clips into a frenzy of guitar-wall smattering up right against your face creating stubble from the rubble of its rumbling on. Shortly after the first wave of madness comes plucking pizzicato at the speed of some "Music From the Body" over heavenly washes of reverbed vocals. As for what his multiple guitar tracks are doing at this time, ask Steve Tibbetts when he's multiplied by ten. Coming off that crest we get served some spacegroove with the urgen before the clittering-clattering electronic tinkles come in sprinkled liberally enveloping the room with the feeling of being inside a container of boingy-boing tic-tacs shaken about. Don't get me all wrong about the guitarwork, some of it is very clean and gentle approximating the sound of folk progressive acts like Hoelderlin and Emtidi without the pastoral effect. Shredding does also play a serious factor in the conclusion as all the notes drop off the face of the sky churning itself back to the big black note it came from.

The other side is a humongous 21:35 opus splattered across every last little groove of this delightful platter. The air feels like Solaris in here, otherworldly and creepy while at the same time dreamy and sleepy. Spelunking over the sea of tranquility is his swansong of the magnitude Loch Ness that is 'Wald (Tr.: Forest).' Draping shimmering leaves of lush eternal electronic green sets adrift on memory wish to the turning of the akashic record. Striking a chord deep in the psyche of humanity, dense with textures, this piece is meditative while laden with universally rich sonorities throughout. Open up the pearly gates, I'm swimming home across the whole thing with this as the soundtrack in my head, dig?

ARTHUR BROWN'S KINGDOM COME "Journey" UK 1973



'Time Captives!!' Truly an out of time leap predating techno, 4AD, punk & encompassing all... with a drone calliope trance-induced second cut, 'Triangles.' 'Gypsy' rolls in all majestic like and teutonic as hell, the kind to make Julian Cope's hair and curls stand straight up on end. Like foggin' Ayyy right-o and rooty-tootin'. This album, the earliest (successful) drum machine usage, dating to 1974 backing a seeming progressive rock band (coming off the heels of the dervish whirlwind of "Galactic Zoo Dossier" and "Kingdom Come") proved quite clever to bring out a cosmic krautrocker's heaven vibe over the lyrical guitar work of the English with dollops of synthesizer heaped freshly atop like cherries to boot. Lest we forget, this beast heralds from the pits of hellfire and brimstone gleams with shiny red teeth - a matured delivery croons in a slight wail akin to some of the vocal work done by Tim Buckley on "Blue Afternoon," "Happy/Sad" or tiny bits of "Starsailor." This third cut, is a pretty well sprawling epic of a monster that rides through the edge of the fourth dimension to bring a spacelock syndrome finale to crumble Hawkwind in it's leaden fist and eat us alive like so much Soylent Green as treated murmurs in English flip out like Franco Battiato through a Flamen Dialis Residentzophone Regal Zonocomb shimmering smattering of vocals - this thing climbs like Jumbo on acid vietato any DNA evidence of who did this to you, in the den with the candlestick and its interloping guitar lines like an Alphataurus carrying the heaviest moments of 'Shaving is Boring' by Hatfield and the North and/or the combination of compensatory parts off of Egg's "The Polite Force" like Atlas on their backs... but, oh no, it's not over yet! The drilling continues to churn into a fuzzy guitar cutoff at 9:10.

'Superficial Roadblocks' brings the authority of Gracious! to attack Troy at the orders of Agamemnon von-Hotep with KGB papers.. Then, all of a sudden, you are in an egyptian Lysergodrome being led in to feel Ray Davies as impersonated by Frank Zappa on mushrooms. No joke, kids, the theatricality employed by Mssr. Brown on this rivals the impish complexities of the divided alien himself, Daevid Allen, of Gong fame. The chords strummed here howl with the power of The Who still humming in the background stadiums and Second Hand chirping their chant of “Death May Be Your Santa Claus” when massed choirs of our fabled and favorite Mellotron set the bset for and bring in the ripper to shred the bed with muscle bound strumming and picking a storm frenzy of clearly meant, well-kept, note flurries. What? And then at the end take us inside a church of a wholly wooly elegiac dirge outro, cue the Brainticket!

Next up we have the closest thing to a regular cut ('Conception' clocks in at a princely 2:06) with thick bass lines counter measures against some screeching, calypso drum patterns, and odd bits off the sythnie.. It gets stranger folks! Popping 'Spirit of Joy' off by way of Allman Brothers like family passion we get a wheezing Neu! 4/4 bravado a bit more electrified reverbo-vocaled insane monkey kumquat and guesting Simeon oscillating his Silver Apples thing here and there like Pierre
Henry playing a Theremin to his own private Siberian beach, chillin' with Leon and sipping some absinthe, boys...

'Come Alive' has punishing guitars and dueling bass methods has that by the time it gets mid-stride, you realize and relate to the Bentley in all too different manner. The creative usage carries compositions well and supports fine instrumentation throughout. Maybe even a couple measures like T2 off "It'll All Work Out in Boomland" and pensive keyboard bleating melodies ala Angel Rada in his masterpiece, “Upadesa” make themselves present on this tune. At the outset here, we get a nice serving of psychy fuzzed processed guitar over a looming Jonathan Richman-esque string-jangle copping his best Lou Reed expressions. No, it's more than that happening here right as it is almost over. Tweaky vocals bring you in to question the whole trip and then leave you dusted off on the platter in the desert where El Topo shot your Zorro mask off and left you crying in your diapers to hear this amazing ship sail again and again.. did he just do a David Bowie cum Police reggae gumbo jamboree bowl porridge of pleasing you with the right tempered mix of seemingly disparate elements??? Dunno, whoah.

MYSTIC SIVA "Mystic Siva"

USA 1971



That ‘ramshackle psychedelic sound’ is here en masse on this record, right from the beginning. 'Keeper of the Keys' roars in and rears it organ domination at the crack of the bat (and the balls from this one are going far, far away, out of the park!). "Pigpen goes to the electric church while really forked up" is the feeling I get from the sustained organ presence throughout. The lyrics admonish against the woman who is the namesake of the song (if you thought 'American Woman' by The Guess Who gave a man liberation, try this poultice on for size). Let me get back to the organ comping, strictly underground moves, something you would have expected from The Cavern Club amidst the swirly lights and haze of cannabis smoke - hot and buttered lovely with sticky guitar soloing vamping crashing the gate mid-song. Think H.P. Lovecraft on more acid..

'And When You Go' is seemingly a ballad for all intents and purposes, but there's more going on in the background than would be expected. Add a fat dash of sometime quasi-doomy/always drugged out vocals that are tough to grasp on this particular cut. Tell you what, though, the whole delivery is to have on emesmerized

'Eyes Have Seen Me' brings back the "scorcher method." Stretchy elasticism in the delivery of guitar lines, cymbals crashing up a storm in the backyard and extended notes from the organ along with some repeated staccato motifs. Words are crisp.

'Come on Closer' recalls a mix of early Grateful Dead crossed with The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band equally, but... add a healthy dose of jitterbug rangoon and you get the gist..

Ooooh, take the Issac Hayes guitar sound ripping it up at the outset and then fold it up over lengthwise smacking up a woodblock, that's hot. Needless to mention art this point (I hope) we've got deft fingering on the fried guitar parts in the middle and so much organ that you can't tell your liver from the pancreas. All the while, on this album, the drum-kit has been propulsive and supportive of rhythm and time with the bass lines rumbling along jogging at a steady pace. This killer cut was called 'Sunshine is Too Long.'

Swirling around you is the massive hypnotism when the end of the first side comes to pass. It begins with spaciness and shortly leads one into a full-on straight ahead psych groover with more of the blistering everything mentioned above. 'Spinning a Spell' alights an alchemical chorus of: "Witchcraft, spinning a spell on me, I can't tell what it's gonna' do to me!" - Dunno about them, but, the compound result of Mystic Siva's music has got me singing that exact same chorus about their fabulous sound!

Side two kicks it off with 'Supernatural Mind,' pizzicato guitar droplets and then a wailing harpoon of hook. This draws one right into the center of the vortex facing outwards. Cranking this puppy up gets ya' feeling like you're right there with them tearing up the scene sitting high and lovely smack dab in the middle of a blistering twister by the time an exalted extended guitar solo slays dragons for miles around! The lyric "Like a devil in disguise with my supernatural mind.'" is right on the $ here & damned stookey to boot (and I don't mean Paul).

'Find Out Why' drops it back down like twelve notches to another understated ballad-esque type of organ vamped bomb with lyrics like: "when you walk with me, the street turns to marshmallows under my feet." and "as I'm walking the birds seem to talk to me (...) people don't seem to be reality, I have to find out why.." - 'nuff said.... just listen to the long snippet below and take a dose to the head yourself tripping la-la in alice's wunderland.. catch the waves a few times, this taps the akashic record.

The last three cuts on the album do not disappoint, this beast is shiny and solid.

'Magic Luv' is a hot rocker. 'Touch the Sky' grooves and bastes Thanksgiving turkey in the process. 'In a Room' is a proper rollicking sendoff for a record that was released on a private label in 1971 in Michigan.

VISITORS "Visitors" France 1974



Anyone ever notice how their opening sender, 'Dies Irae(and exactly how many versions of this are there anyhow),' begins with themes straight outta' “YS” just like Ice-Cube was straight outta' Compton when his E was -Easy and the prune juice was free...

..what a great album! I am spinning it again and it hits in so many shining spots that its really nice. Dual chorus vocals here reminiscent of Electric Prunes' Mass in F Minor on more acid and extended mayhem also including a female vocalist. Some Italian style delivery in French on the second cut with a Spanish prog stance musical backdrop, driving with dreamy then french-sounding French coming in before soaring off in the Bretonesque equivalent of a lofty jig that ends up lampooning as a troll medley into a certainly possessed territory with a gaggle of voices, doctored male bruhaha and back to the main delivery this time like a proper french mode of the period.

The third track is nuts. A wild outer-space tribal excursion with rag-tag ongoing drumming propelling electronic warbles and voice-treats over synth washes later to be followed by mutilated squonks.

On side two we get treated to the crackle of a thunderstorm beginning a dirge of a loping gong-esque melody replete with silly Daevid Allen stylings speaking of space happenings 'in the air he floated with fingers of flame ... green eyes, bronze face, so the story was told' aahhh-ahh.. female voices carroling around in and out of two modes of male vox. Electronic bounciness of the highest order abounds with a nice finger-picked guitar in the background on the end.

Continuing a little at the beginning of this cut with the vibe we are treated to arpeggios that would not be out of place somewhere between Steve Hillage's "Fish Rising" and "L" albums, but with a crazy twist of Jean Luc Ponty flavor on the strings then a moment out of your favorite Picchio Dal Pozzo with a few choruses of light male vocalising totally like they were doing Battiato lyrics. Blammo, then it stretches out syncopating and polymorphous like Darryl Way crossed with David Grisman on a full fledged heavy prog rock spectacular background to fade. If there is one downfall to this album is that the songs do not continue, they all have the capacity to jam 5 more minutes!

Spacey, dark, dirty and gritty, this takes over the room like a New Trolls album adding a viol that won't quit with well calculated swings of enchanting musical madness, let's just go and see who this is*, shall we? Dueling with a piano comping and winning right about now.. the bass comes in on a gang-up and some altered voice chant ripping it up. Ever victorious, the violin comes back in with the sheer power and overwhelming terroristic ability to tear the mother up and close it.

*Bah, I had forgotten, figures the Lockwood brothers were involved!

The last cut is anthemic and holds to the progression of most epics. Is this what Jacula and Antonius Rex are supposed to sound like? Dang, the devilish tones coming out in the first verse growl score!

LUNA NEGRA/SMOGLESS RECORDS
Sampler 2001 Mexico

1 - MUSICA D'REPUESTO 'Baile de Payasos'
We start off with kettle drums bounding away as flutes dance around, the drumkit skitters and a piano tinkles about, next up a wood block xylophone trounces in and then it breaks off into a massed chorus of strings from a synth (touching mellotron moments of grandeur) adding a healthy dose of tasteful windwork. A RIO "wassup!"

Very majestic, the progression swells to a nice crescendo, massed choirs later on..

2 - OMNI 'Contracorriente'
Lilting in like a soft summer wind for 20 seconds this gives us a chunk of breezy prog. Funky without being overbearing. Doesn't stop rolling, kind of like Canterbury in an odd way with how it carries itself. Perhaps some hints of Crucis, maybe?

3 - PERFUME DE MUJER 'Liborio'
Shouldn't need more words, they are great and this is a decent syncopated cut with distinctly spacey and heavy jam-out moments. Some references to the Italian Pop! Nice guitar work and busy drumming, includes a far-out excursion in the middle. Fusion with a little more latitude.. Weather Report could have been an inflluence.

4 - OXOMAXOMA 'X Musica'
Light and airy with an edge. Dreamy. The album title translates to "Spirits in Red and Black." Kind of ethereal, could be a more down to earth 4AD sound with Spanish flavor in the guitar department and the vocals, of course. Halfway through we jump off that bridge and get reverb on guitars, almost tortured vocals - Peter Hammill lite.

5 - ALTAIR 'Oracion del ermitaño'
Out there baby, yeah, that's what's up - think about the cosmos for a minuet..

6 - NARANJA MECANICA 'Rosa de Corcho'
Complex composition with hairpin turns and a sometimes metal edge to the guitar. Driving, off-kilter romp with a flute reminiscent of Brian Jackson on Gil Scott-Heron's 70's output. Tight, a healthy smattering of RIO and Zappa influences. Well done and quite engaging for the duration. Towards the end, there are sections which last for a few seconds that feed you the classic symphonic progressive vibe we know and love and then flips the script over and back and over and back then drops off a cliff.

7 - BANDA ELASTICA 'Siete con titulo'
Would not be out of place on ZNR's "Barricades 3" or a Julverne album if they were drunk. Nice neo-classical cum avant-garde approach with sustaining violin notes in front of a plinky-plonk piano and some dude brazenly snorting "excuse me sir, excuse me sir." What next you ask after an intro like that? Think of Art Zoyd improvising, yes! And that's not all folks... Frith and Kaiser might have had friends like these..

8) JOSÉ LUIS FERNANDEZ LEDESMA 'Amnesia'
Hello Spanish Univers Zero by way of News From Babel plus thick undulating electronically creeping basslines and add your best Jauniaux-styled vocals..
...one word - AWESOME. Then there is a whole jumble of male vocalese chiming in between her outbursts. Horns loop about as the mid-section goes to an 'overheard conversation in the next room' mode and then flips us back to the thickness & stops, how sad, it should have gone on forever and ever into never neverland (or at least until Peter Pan showed up wearing black tights). `';o( - but mostly `';o)

9 - GUILLERMO FRAGOSO
Thick drums, treated flutes and you're tied to a pole being mind-chomped by natives on an island far, far away from here. Really tropical for Venus, that's for sure!

10 - THE HIGH FIDELITY ORCHESTRA
Hyped up and sinuous. Pointillated guitar streaks, 'boxing match' bass lines, clattering cymbals off a jittery kit paves the way for a Downtown-esque escapade, tear the roof off your Escalade - you'll fly through town bopping your head as this shreds and people will have to gawk and break their rubbernecks gasping "what the f..?!?!" Sinister is an understatement. Spiraling madness ensues, it all speeds up unabashedly until..

11 - MUROS DE AGUA 'Ojos de Cóndor'
Can't place this yet, but it's good. First half is attentive fusion stylings building into the second part where they max and relax a bit in the more outré territory of purple grasshoppers. Wouldn't be out of place in Kent during the mid-70's. This one lets you breathe and ponder a bit like a solo album.

12 - EL TEMPLO DEL DINERO 'El Ángel del Mar'
Throbbing beginning with the energy levels of punk, guitar drills you and then chills out to pose lyrical questions on the meaning of life. After a couple phrases, there is a call and response pattern with a mute partner which goes back to the initial attack for a few bars and then asks open ended spiritual queries. Mahavishnu possessed ripping comes in for the third go round. Did I mention that the drummer brings in a halo around this whole thing keeping the rhythm tight? Perhaps a cross between Mclaughlin and Santana-like fusion-era material.

13 - ULISES 'Primum Gradum Certituudinis"
Hand drums, piano, tambourine, creepy guitar ecstasy. Say hello to an updated Spanish Ash Ra Tempel playing for free at an all-night Rainbow Gathering. Slow-motion fire-eaters would love this one!!

14 - EREHÍA 'Rito'
Thump the drums, in your face violin gives sway to cymbals and then a few Present-ish guitar lines come in, back to the cymbals, add violin, woodblock, drum kit... RIO! Some earth bass here and there, a little schizophrenia never hurt anyone of us, has it? Factor in some Latin Univers Zero while we're at it - this cut is VERY busy & it WORKS!

15 - KATARSIS '5" Romance'
Let's not forget our King Crimson flavored Frippoid hot sauce, shall we? Straight up.

16 - EL DIABLO 'Huautla'
To cool us off, the wrap-up is a tasty piece of echo-cake, slow and mellow. Guitar is overlaid on itself like some early Steve Tibbetts while heavy toms intermingled with deft cymbal action calls us up to heaven. What's that, you raging boddhisattva? Uh-huh, sounds like a sitar, yum. Bass underpinning is almost not noticeable as single notes, more like waves of bliss lulling out of this fine repertoire. Come "Om" to Luna Negra, they'll leave the porch light on for you so that you can find your way down from the stratosphere.... and to each a lightly flute-kissed good night goodbye.

All in all, every tune rocks well and the sampler plays like an entire album proper.

COS

Career Overview 1974-82 Belgium

Esteemed friends and music aficionados,

My favorite guitarist and favorite singer are from
my favorite group: COS!



Daniel Schell speaks in lyrical volumes with his playing, akin to a language. The band is amazing throughout their output. Keyboardists Charles Loos, Marc Hollander (Aksak/Aqsak Maboul), and Alain Pierre, are incredible wherever they play in the catalog. Alan Goutier has the elastic bass replete to enhance the thickening sound. Bob Dartsch, Guy Lonneux, Philippe Allaert are alert, active and creative with the drum kit. Pascale Son is in charge of the acrobatic vocal calisthenics throughout, excepting "Pasiones."

She is an unparalleled singer bar none, also playing oboe on the first two offerings and piano on the last. Her influence is likely to be more far-reaching than we can ever ascertain. In my world, she reigns supreme in the school associated with vocalists along the lines of Catherine Ribeiro (+ Alpes, solo), Urszula Dudziak (w/ Michal Urbaniak's Fusion, solo), Dagmar Krause (Slapp Happy, Henry Cow, Art Bears, News From Babel, w/ Lindsay Cooper, w/ Lutz Glandien, w/ Kevin Coyne, solo, etc. - sorry Daggi, you are second only to her), Catherine Jauniaux (Aksak Maboul, Hat Shoes, The Work, w/ Lowest Note On The Organ, w/ Tom Cora, w/ Tim Hodgkinson, solo, etc.), and Flora Purim (Chick Corea and Return to Forever, w/ Airto, w/ Hermeto Pascoal, solo, etc.). In the more recent past, we can can also attribute female singers like Amy Denio (Tone Dogs, Danubians, Curlew, Billy Tipton Memorial Saxophone Quartet,, Nudes/Pale Nudes, Science Group, w/ Chris Cutler, solo, etc.), Susanne Lewis (Thinking Plague, Hail, w/ Bob Drake, solo, etc.), and Haco (After Dinner, Kam-pas-nel-la, w/ Acid Mothers Temple, solo, etc.).

On different albums there are a bevy of other heavyweights, in their own right, guesting and augmenting the incredible versatility of sonic arrays:

Marc Moulin (Placebo, solo), Dirk Bogaert (Pazop, Waterloo), Francois Cahen (Magma, Zao, solo, etc.), Denis Van Hecke (Aqsak Maboul, w/ John Greaves, w/ Frank Wyuts, etc.), Jacky Mauer (Pazop), Nicolas Fiszman, Steve Leduc, Adrian Stoop, Pipou, Jean-Louis Haesevoets, Roger Wollaert, Willy Masy, Pierre Van Dormael, and (in Classroom, precursor to Cos): Jean-Paul Musette, Jean-Luc Van Lommel, Jean-Pierre Destrée, and Robert Pernet.



"Postaeolian Train Robbery" is a perfect blend of Zeuhl & Canterbury. There has never been a better, more balanced marriage of both. The only other symbiotic hybrid that would even come close in comparison would have to be Etron Fou LeLoublan's "Les Sillons De La Terre," which is completely different - that's an infusion of Gong and Henry Cow to my ears. The vocals of Pascale Son not only complement the sensations evoked by the musical backdrop, they begin to define the far-reaching directions across the universe which Cos was to explore. Daniel Schell's amazing guitar discourse is the perfect foil to her wordless wonder and ecstatic merriment. He expounds accordingly with verbs and calculated sonic inter-textual seasonings emanating from the strings. One can almost see the grimaces of his face as he chatters aloud via the facility of plugging his instrument directly into his soul. There is not one iota of excess present in his playing, it is precise, concise, succinct, and ardently clear to make its point. His phrasing is exactly that, a manner of discourse, listen and reach for your 'air guitars.' Charles Loos tinkles all over the keyboards and piano with glee, sharing a reckless abandon with Alain Goutier for a rhythm section combination that thrusts itself upon the throne like a salubrious king or redolent mob boss, excruciatingly untouchable. All in all, there has nary been a finer moment in music as this stunning first jaunt from the band that wins my heart and trophy for first place as the stellar musical royalty of the cosmos.



"Viva Boma/Bomma" takes a more direct and overtly Kentian approach, but taking it experientially further. For many people, this is the pinnacle of the sound outside of the scene proper. When compounded with the nonsensical creative wordless verbalizations exhorted by the illustrious Ms. Pascale Son, we are going to a new level altogether. Everywhere that she blesses a microphone with the band, she brings a delicately child-like delivery to some of the most complex contortions in vocalese ever committed to vinyl. Her skills are natural and not forced. From the compatriot bookends to this release, the tactics employed go beyond each of them easily, extending into the future and the past simultaneously. Prototypical Aksak Maboul makes its presence known here. Deep space exploration ala Hatfield and the North is intermingled with a stout flavor of Cos' debut. Other demarcators present, even if only for a few bars, are Return to Forever, Weather Report, Zao, National Health, Gilgamesh, Soft Machine, Matching Mole, Henry Cow, etcetera. All along, amidst this tumult of seeming inflections, the sound retains the individuality of the band for the duration and is generated organically.



"Babel" updates the late 70's currents into a cohesive avant/prog whole. This one is hard to explain how infectious it really gets to be. At first, one may become a little stand-offish in comparison to where they came from previously. After the 5th spin or so, the magical combination of disparate elements begins to congeal into an incalculable whole. Aptly titled, this album intercepts genres and melds them together cohesively with reckless abandon for the purpose of pure pleasure. What ends up being most prevalent in here is that many parts of the psyche are fed simultaneously. At once, immediately after letting go of any preconceived notions, the science behind the concept takes one directly into Babylonian bliss, no holds barred. I am still captivated by the addictive nature therein. Glossing in front of a funky propulsive backdrop, spanning the gamut from underground disco to fusion to out and out jazzrock to Rock In Opposition, the long closer brings in an embryonic Haco/After Dinner vocal style (even sounding Japanese at times) with a harkening back to Flora Purim and Urszula Dudziak scat stylings.



"Swiss Chalet" lays in with African influences to round out the spectrum. Thickening of the underlying structure throws down a bed for an avant-garde dub style to flourish beneath heavenly chirping on the vocals. French verbiage makes its way into the mix again, it is interspersed within the other albums periodically as well. I am still trying to get a grasp on the new technique employed on the electric here, appropriately labeled as chemical guitar: searing hot. Syncopation reigns supreme, remaining inventive with other peripheral elements throughout. "Sounds" are incorporated into the mix by Alan Pierre on the first ten tracks, Mutsari from Ruanda handles the bass duties on cuts 1-5. Pascale Son matures through this outing, beginning to reach to her future as a chanteuse, albeit stretching a touch more to the experimental side here. At the very end of the album, Cos comes around full circle in their career, dropping dollops of Zeuhl on our plates, then vanishing.



"Pasiones" incorporates a more diverse tropical feel and includes Spanish, German, and English words being sung by Ilona Chale de Barcelona, sometimes mixed in the same song. Her style is complementary to the sound herein and is an excellently suitable replacement for the original mistress. Musically, this is continuation of disparate elements being conglomerated deftly into a swift-acting whole. One of the salient points of the progression of creative attack of the group is that it is always forward-looking and well advanced for the time of each release. A major point in favor of Cos is making a singular synthesis of influences. The 'rhythm of the spheres' is incorporated and built upon to create a brave new world unlike anything else ever heard before. Daniel Schell introduces tap-guitar at this juncture in his career, I am still coming to grips with what that style of playing is doing to morph the original sound even further.

Release years are 1974, 1976, 1978, 1979, and 1982 respectively. Cos hails from Belgium.

Each album takes a keen edge of originality and meshes it with an avant-garde sensibility in the compositional undercurrent. Even when it seems, on the surface, a simpler approach is heartily being adopted, there is so much more to be experienced. It is the nonchalant structure and expertly executed playing that makes these records seem coy and unassuming. Upon further immersion and inspection of the maturation, nothing more can be said about this group other than that they deserve the top slot in the pantheon of truly progressive acts. My book may be biased a bit, but many of you already know the depth and latitude of my tastes and have come to appreciate this preponderance in making recommendations at your own individual levels.

Daniel Schell's later work with Karo and otherwise is of a high caliber. That, my friends, is an immersion and discourse in overview for another time. . .

(-( With sincere thanks to Daniel Schell )-)

- - NOTES ON ACQUISITION OF THE MUSICS OF COS - -

Daniel Schell has informed me that tapes are Re-Mastered.
ALL of their CD reissues include key bonus material...!!!

More information on the extra content available HERE:

Clic Music


They are distributed by Musea Records:

Musea Records

14 October 2005

FLUXURY "Me the Enemy"

Ltd. EP Netherlands 2004



'Me the Enemy' takes off in classic progressive landscape mid-flight right at the outset with accentuated lines and an understated melody slowly developing over a backdrop of thoughtful and sharply sincere guitar.

Female vocals rise from the midst and begin to really let this tune soar. Recalling all the fine songstresses of a beautiful future past, she crests from this here hill, quieting down for a moment to let the song soften up before serving delicately lilting lyrics upon a cloudy precipice. This is further book-ended by heavenly notes being held in a loose fashion with ripely tasteful instrumentation before her voice clutches the words to be spurned out over a driving heavy progressive assault, flaring at the edges and bearing all the earmarks of how a crescendo should be delivered: hot on a roll and buttered.

'After the revolution,' tingling in with piano flourishes, introduces a romantic delivery. . . dreamy and soft to the touch. Cymbals of light tinkles belie the crushed guitar chords piercing in from the back of the mix as we alternate between swooning versus weaving in and out of the ocean created by the song. A very expansive feeling gotten from his one.

Nodding with thicker washes of synth (which have been actually taking place all along) a syncopated ballad becomes the heart of an opus delivery from the outfit. After two minutes, one feels that they have already run along with the breeze in 'Light of other Days.' The halfway point demarcated what would normally be in the middle of a side-long track. Over the span of six minutes, Fluxury has caught in its satchel what has taken progressive bands of the past an entire twenty minutes to compose. Replete with a chorus of male voices and sinuous interrogatory, like condensed milk, this is packed with sweet flavor.

Some jagged rocky beat stutters in right in afterwards showing a vibrancy full stride and aglitter with mesmerizing skyscape. Again, fluidity reigns supreme with another good dose of manna fired up saucer style. The band has netted the true sensibility of progressive rock in a short track, 'I Will be There.'

Closing out this titillating set is a crunchy heavy-guitar and more interloped vocals from the a nice female voice taking care of the duties. Jos has informed that this material is being polished and revamped to the proper form that is envisioned in the group's collective creative head for the 2005 release. We should all await this crew's output with bated breath, they are pulling off a forward-moving renaissance from the master styles we adore from the past. If you like expertly executed expressive and emotional music, Fluxury has your ticket and they will be on sale soon. After the fact, the title of this will surely ring true in saying that 'Nothing's Safe,' it will also apply to our sensibilities - am I having a flashback or has the world opened up a time-warp for them to jump through and express the heart of heady music discovered during the 70's by many a now worshipped group breathing life into music again while reaching for the stars?

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OFFICIAL ALBUM NOW AVAILABLE