t i n y m i x t a p e i n s p i r e i c h i b an c h o. i r e a d c h o c o e v e r y d a y i m ak e a l b u m f o r y o u
• 漢方Zhēn: https://zhen.bandcamp.com
Bitchin Bajas are un-fucking-stoppable: 2013 saw the release of the excellent Krausened EP and the incredible Bitchitronics album; in 2014 we got a superb recording of their Hideout Residency. Oh, and just this past Sunday, I saw them lead a troupe of musicians in a great performance of Terry Riley’s In C. What a talented (and busy) trio!
And now Cooper Crain, Daniel Quinlivan, and Rob Frye have given us a lil’ something to hold us over until their self-titled double LP (or double cassette tape, if you’re so inclined) comes out on Drag City on August 26, in the form of “Bueu,” 12-minute epic that pulsates slowly into a quietly psychedelic jam. Yessssss.
“Across The Hills”
In collaboration with visual artist Sean P. Miller, Lily Taylor has released the first single “Across The Hills” off her upcoming album Ride, due later this month on Pour le Corps on LP and CS (pre-order here). Ride comes at listeners after Taylor earned a degree in contemporary music and drifted from the West and East coasts, ending up currently in Dallas, refining her musical technique and uniqueness. And as the album has been building itself throughout the years, listeners are privy to her adventures via sound across the great landscape that is America.
“Across The Hills” I feel is a good representation of riding through a state that’s completely surrounded my mountainous horizons, and as one drives throughout, they just wonder what it’d look like atop one of those heights. However, y’all are driving and got a destination, so there ain’t no stopping or detouring now. Yet, “Across The Hills” has such a longing sound that even at night, still covering some ground on the trail, looking toward a black sky, you’re curious if the pitchness is due to the lack of sunlight or because there are giant lobs of land obstructing your view, again making one wish they had a view not many have been honored to gaze.
Here, “Across The Hills” gives listeners the opportunity to dream along with Lily Taylor as she also offers y’all to take the long-awaited Ride with her (via Pour le Corps), either in your living room on LP or in the [everywhere] on CS! Scope the wild visual zones of Sean P. Miller below:
Also below is the audio stream of “Across The Hills” and here’s the LP pre-order:
Josep Lluis Galiana & Carlos D. Perales
He’d fall asleep in the most unlikely places. And when he did, his breath would pass between his lips, and all night he’d whistle and moan, haunting those unlikely places. They were ghostly, those whistles and moans. That’s how my friend got the nickname “Ghost Whistler.”
Josep Lluis Galiana & Carlos D. Perales, with a bit more sport and lucidity, exhale the same sort of ghost whistle language in their improvisation “Ready.” Their sport is fencing. The two gentlemen take the offensive and fight for the last lunge, and, through their flicks and attacks, work in tandem, finishing each other’s sentences, enhancing and elaborating upon each other’s phrases. When one pauses faintly to catch his great, the other feints and fills the space. A lot of their blade-to-blade and nose-to-nose jockeyship is done at breath level, eerie, but not without a fair share of confident outbursts: herky-jerky spasms and achy-breaky corrosion. The piece is eeriest when the players meet up and align at the high register. The haunted moments.
“When We Were”
Sorta like the broodingness of SECRET BOYFRIEND, stolen soul of Xiu Xiu, and longing we have for Dylan Ettinger, Sleep Museum comes within earshot of a blended originality that lingers in the mind months after just a hit of “When We Were.” But this demon of transitional shapes, colors, and shadows blend – just as well – with the song in a faded and disturbing display of what sleep walking looks like around 4AM when you open your eyes miles from home, and the only thing you have is, wait –your cellphone has piss and blood on it and neither are yours. There’s a steam powered engine in the distance smoke signaling you toward it’s pressuring beat under a sterile florescent light, and you see a dual smoke signal, Sleep Muesum is standing in the shadows crooning you as a siren from the bewilderment of this harsh wake up, instantly easing your tension.
If only “When We Were” really DID refer to that time, it’d put better context to the situation, maybe, but it doesn’t, and that didn’t happen, as you continue wandering the highway with thumb en-route. No destination in mind and SHIT!!! Just slipped on a cassette tape on the wet road and it reads The Vitrine of Blindness which you laugh at the irony when finding Sleep Muesum’s name on the other side, branded by Golden Cloud Tapes. Change route. Let’s go north.
ORDER HERE AND NOW: The Vitrine of Blindness by Sleep Museum from Golden Cloud Tapes, it’s a C(fucking)60(YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and will take you upon many adventures. Breath with “When We Were” below in the mean-time: