The Savage Young Taterbug
Where haven’t you been, Mr. Free? To what lengths shall the imagination of Journeymans Cheddar be stretched? “Percy’s Transmission” ended too soon, and the face clawing laughter of “Hillbilly French” could wreck any human psyche. Strolling along the town docks, kicking pebbles into the port; just meandering “Togetherman.” Feelings “Ain’t Razor Blade” my thoughts with rubbished pain in a bombastic or two. The “Working Juice” fueling straight to my brain into ignition. However, “Ungummed Son & Meltwax Soul” will ultimately be the saddest of all expositions, considering the rewind button and a reel’s life expectancy. And no matter the “Small Sour Ballast” – in the way it warps you aboard – following the “Disc Jockey Inside Corona Bottle” with his pal Tracey Trance into an adventures of exploration. But that “Jacking Boy I Never Knew” is earnestly the most pleasing of thoughts in the most fingered up [guitar] neck lick at the end.
The Savage Young Taterbug has and will continue to ALWAYS satiate his followers. Pipering in his fifth tape on Night People, Journeymans Cheddar rips at the core of Charles Free’s travels across America and sound. Not only of the mind, but soul and existence has mushed itself in a comforting way with The Savage Young Taterbug, seemingly drawing from a plethora of genres, artists, cultures, etc. Though, the case (along with silk screened Night People j-card) is made time and time again that it’s merely deep musical archeology of the ear. And this lyrics are to die for, if you can get past the warp and scratch. Word is, on The Savage Young Taterbug’s upcoming 12-inch on Night People, his voice is surprisingly cleaner sounding, and the lyrics are more revealing than anything he’s done before! Stream Journeymans Cheddar below, and grip it from Night People to complete and/or start the adventure of collecting you Chuckles le Free sounds:
• Night People: http://raccoo-oo-oon.org/np
“Slingers” feat. Knowlege The Pirate
“I’m not a trapper, I’m a slinger,” raps Roc Marciano at 1:39; the distinction being that while a trapper finds (loses?) himself trapped in a perpetual cycle of crime and punishment, a slinger slyly evades capture to continue flourishing in his chosen trade so he can enjoy the finer things in life, like “sapphire on the finger [or] a crib in Antigua.” To an upper-middle crust-bred academic it might seem a sinister, materialistic end game, but then, as Roc himself said on “Strive,” “Anything besides being rich is excuses.” Watch the gorgeously greenish video for “Slingers” above and download the song, along with the rest of The Pimpire Strikes Back mixtape from which it was taken, here.
Vol. 3 [teaser]
Shiiit. Don’t listen to this at work. I was sitting in the office thumping this new TOUGH FUZZ out of the speakers while my fingers crackled over old, faded keyboard. Nodding my head a bit too hard for the office of a retail store, where, you know, other people are just trying to do their jobs. “Are you having a rave in here?” my boss asked.
“Nah… I’m just…” I thought about trying to explain beat music and 404 to her, and decided against it. “Yeah, it’s kind of ravey.”
Shiiit. Coffee shops neither. Don’t do it.
If there’s one thing my grandmother has continually wished upon me, “Good luck.” There are a number of ways in which I could posit that her wishing has served me well, but being introduced to “Patrón” by Alpha Chris has made me feel blessed as a young baby boi on his bar-mitzvah day. As furthered by a beautifully shot video, Alpha Chris has a phenomenal aura which bursts like sunlight through the seams of an unceasingly fresh windbreaker. Like a preacher of love, Chris channels refreshing themes of bliss, genuine emotion, care-free club dreams, and Patrón. Alternating between next-level hype and peaceful repose, Alpha Chris is nothing short of a young god in the field. Listening to “Patrón” is a breath of fresh mountain air on a cool spring day with a fat Juicy-Juice in my right hand. I’m surprised at how low-key the track is right now, but can certainly vouch for its’ golden nature. Peep it if you please. You won’t be disappointed.
• Alpha Chris: http://www.chrisowensofficial.tumblr.com
There’s a playful layer of filth smothering Opal Tape’s newest release Hantasive, by Lyon’s Kaumwald. It’s a panic room carved out with spades in the midst of an e-waste mega-dump. These sounds wrap their INDUSTRY in an over glove, they giggle and burble at you with rotten teeth. The plastic spools and reeling materiality of Opal Tape’s preferred medium and mineraloid moniker shine through, even over Bandcamp, as they have across the label’s increasinglyacclaimed output. Obviously, T Heavyz ears were pricked up well in advance to the mystery and wonder which has since come to anchor each OT release. Here we have a further addition to an assemblage (yes, I mean record label) that hits just the right balance between individually challenging artistic excursions and curatorial common ground. European fans can currently try and catch this ‘Label’ as they tour around the continent. Stream Hantasive by Kaumwald below:
TMT briefly talked with Jason Lescalleet in anticipation of his digital reissue of The Pilgrim, which was originally released in 2006. You can stream the album below and read an analysis complete with some of the composer’s own personal insight below.
With most pop music — and tonal music, in general — it’s easy to rely on both the functions of Western harmony that have been ingrained into us at an early age and lyrics that tell us directly how to feel. But electronic experimental music’s alien, “abstracted” nature can make it harder to relate to for many casual listeners, the processing, blurring, and amelodicism not as clearly defined as harmony and language. But if I hear anyone claim that electronic music isn’t “expressive enough,” then I’ll turn them toward Jason Lescalleet’s The Pilgrim, which is being reissued digitally in a remastered/expanded format by the composer himself today.
The Pilgrim, despite its experimental nature, is one of the more moving pieces of music of any genre that I’ve heard. The album is a towering elegy to Lescalleet’s father that illustrates his knack for “presenting abstract music in a manner that allows the listener to find their own way into the music.” While The Pilgrim very specifically refers to the loss of Lescalleet’s father, the work creates a universality that has the power to speak to many different people. For over an hour, the piece builds and layers gorgeous austere drones in a manner similar to the compositions of Eliane Radigue and some of Kevin Drumm’s recent ambient work, before giving way to a slow-burning cloud of noise that leads into an absolutely devastating field recording of Lescalleet’s daughter singing “Molly Malone” to her grandfather. Nothing is ever explicitly stated, but the mood is undeniably clear and the music emotionally all-consuming. There are moments when both the meditative piece associated with death is evoked and the rage and struggle are thrust to the forefront and confronted. Lescalleet’s sound sources may hold deeply personal significance, but his processing and treatment renders them emotionally accessible.
The original LP pressing of The Pilgrim featured a live performance dedicated to Lescalleet’s father on one side and an excerpt from their last conversation on the other, in addition to a CD containing a 74-minute version of the titular piece. Format is crucial to Lescalleet’s work, and in this sense, the original version of the record is particularly idiomatic to its design. “The length of storage space…relative fidelity concerns and different audiences are considerations I take very seriously” explains Lescalleet. All of these elements contributed to the composer’s desire to reissue the record digitally and “offer [the] audience high-resolution sound files that are virtually free of media restraints.” Thus, The Pilgrim is “realized at its proper length” of 85 minutes, with the remastering emphasizing the “tonal qualities and acoustic properties” of Lescalleet’s sounds. The reissued version is as format specific as the original, and as a result, the piece gleams in its expanded and remastered form.
The Pilgrim is an important album in Lescalleet’s discography from both a personal standpoint and a musical one. In some ways, it marks a shift into more heavily thematic/conceptual works, as well as a movement into some of the other towering long-form pieces in Lescalleet’s oeuvre. However, The Pilgrim remains a particularly haunting, singular listen, a thoughtful masterwork that serves as both a memorial to the artist’s father and a prime example of how narrative and emotion can arise from abstraction.
• Jason Lescalleet http://www.lescalleet.wordpress.com