Y’ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! This is the first decent release Moon Glyph has put out so far in 2012. Saying that is a conflict of label-interest with my bruva Henning, but he got the song-scenario to the teeth: “decadent and rotten city.” It’s hard not to transport yourself to cyber-punk dystopia upon hearing tracks like this, but moreso, where would you want “The Driver” to take you? If you had the opportunity to see/do anything in NYC 2416, what would be your first choice? Something more familiar, or would you future the fuck out? I’d axe “The Driver” what the best, most culturally abrasive experience he has to offer, and he’d probably just drive me around the city. ‘_’ Wiff my decent drift? On the flip side, Ettinger’s track is the slick-nasty, if you’re familiar with his new works.
Death Grips are major now, but that doesn’t mean they’re holding back any punches. The group recently released a practice clip via YouTube of a new track called “Lost Boys,” and now they’ve released a studio version just so you can hear the lyrics nice and clearly. Here’s a sample:
beware you have been warned, the barrels still warm, ease up off that lip or step
how quick a bitch fit ta get checked mate
one false move’ll get ya
Adorable. Sing along here while you wait patiently for The Money Store, due April 24 on Epic.
I Did the Number (documentary trailer)
Percussionist and instrument-maker Cleve Pozar is one of the most curious of New York’s under-sung improvisers. He may not perform frequently and his recordings are few in number and entirely scarce, but his position is something like an elder griot of musical possibility living in Brooklyn. Born in Eveleth, Minnesota in 1941 as Robert F. Pozar, he relocated to Ann Arbor to study at the University of Michigan and fell in with avant-garde composers and instrumentalists involved with the ONCE festival. His early collaborators included Robert Ashley, Gordon Mumma, and a young, experimental Bob James. Pozar relocated to New York in the mid-1960s, studying, performing, and recording with trumpeter-composer Bill Dixon and making his own record date for Savoy. Relocating to Boston at the end of the decade, he studied with famed percussionist Alan Dawson (Tony Williams’ teacher) and committed to wax the gorgeous solo percussion audio collage Cleve Solo Percussion, a tour-de-force of uncategorizable, pure, and unified instrumentalism from a variety of traditions and approaches. It was in the 1970s when he changed his name from Robert to Cleve, based on certain numerological principles. Pozar has been studying Afro-Cuban bata for the last decade-plus and building his own electronic bata arsenal, heard and seen to advantage on a number of YouTube videos.
With such a rich history, it’s no wonder that Cleve Pozar has enchanted such archivists of the arcane as 50 Miles of Elbow Room’s Adam Lore and drummer/writer/filmmaker Hank Shteamer, who is currently working on a documentary about Pozar tentatively titled “I Did the Number.” Watch the trailer above and keep Cleve on your radar.
• Cleve Pozar: http://www.myspace.com/clevepozar
“Coast to Coast”
Deep Tapes is an unclottable wound oozing album after remix after VHS compilation of woozy jams and half-songs, semi-recognizable shards shakily glued back together to make whole, flaky layers of fucked-up bits, dead-battery distortion, shitty keyboards, maybe guitar, trash, and who knows what — all part of a new(?) zeitgeist(?) of sample-heavy music, still-experimental, equal parts “floaty pop” and “sizzling brainwash” — and the new split cassette from Portland groups Chrome Wings and Ladyshapes is no exception. Recently had the pleasure of meeting John Jurow of Chrome Wings, and I can tell you he was pretty tall and had a great hair swoosh-thing in his eyes. Dreamy. The video by Broken Machine Films features some good old orphaned medical filmstrip footage. You can actually pre-order this tape.
MV & EE
And you’re in a soy field — no, wait, you’re on a canoe on the Little Miami River. -Err, let’s take you to that tee-pee in the backyard of your parent’s hippy friend’s house. Somewhere in Indian or Nevada. Along the way from point 1 to z, you’re in an old painter van. Or, no. You’re on horseback riding along the soy field side for miles. No, acres. Upon these acres, you stumble into a hole; not the horse. You come out a bonfire in that tee-pee, it smells like peyote, and your parent’s friends are staring at you. Leaving the tee-pee cannonballs you into the Little Miami. Emerging from the water you hear, “Reno tonight; drinks $3!” Only to awake in that old painter van. But in the back seat you found the new MV & EE Space Homestead LP on Woodsist. Which is bonus, cause it wont be released until May 15.