The debut release/compilation of former Canterbury Scene maestro Dave S. and former frontwoman of prog. folk band Spirogyra, Barbara Gaskin. It's a collection of their early-to-mid 80's singles, all of which are rather distinctive and intriguing. Contemplate a more New Wave sounding Cocteau Twins with all the tasty trimmings and you'll have an idea of how this material sounds.
Those who manage to sink their teeth into these fantastic songs should also check out their future studio albums proper as a duo - 1990's The Big Idea and 1991's Spin.
What happens when one of the top rising pop stars of the late 70's decides to make a record with a certain famous King Crimson guitarist? On top of that, what if the result was so crazy in places that RCA, their record label, decided to shelve it for all eternity (or at-least until 1980 xD)?
Behind this ugly and oppressive looking cover lies some of the most compulsively listenable WTF material ever committed to record...and that's saying quite a bit, considering this is Magma we're talking about.
A French avant-garde jazz rock outfit founded in the late 60's by drummer extraordinaire Christian Vander, this ensemble spawned from its combination of operatic spieling and free jazz flexibility a genre known as "Zeuhl", or in layman's terms, celestial jazz opera punk where people are singing in an alien language.
Hence, the music inside here is nearly impossible to describe without severe generalizing, as it pushes envelopes even by this band's usual standards (AKA, lots of crazy energy, dissonance and odd rhythms in constant battle, choral vocal chanting, etc. etc.). However, a severe funk influence has permeated the usual diagnosis of cosmic insanity these guys get associated with. Therefore, from one point of view, its possibly the most accessible thing Vander has had the fortune to be involved with....and possibly all of you (once you get it yourselves) as well.
Although very much a love letter to all those prog. bands from the 70's who got shafted by the mainstream media throughout that decade, The Tangent's debut is also extremely sharp taken on it's own musical merits. Clocking at a nicely digestible 48 minutes through four compositions (which I've painstakingly pieced together through Audacity and other programs for the convenience of you all), The Music That Died Alone does something distinct and interesting with each song to give the listener a taste of different prog. flavors of the era it laments. Opening suite 'In Darkest Dreams' is good stomper: the keyboards are very ELP, but the sax and vocals give a certain smokiness to the proceedings reminiscent of Van Der Graaf Generator in places. 'The Canterbury Sequence', on the other hand, rife with flute and drum tinkering, is whimsical a'la Caravan and early Camel, providing a nice contrast to the opener.
The title track is the real cream of this crop though, aching nostalgia and all. Harmonious and downtempo, it's the final nail in the coffin of why this album clicks: it's beautiful, but not sickeningly so. Furthermore, the songs are memorable, yet not irritating in their smugness. An honest record by people who miss a certain time in music so badly that they'd probably kill to bring it back....and, for one glorious hour at least, manage to recreate it here.
Killer live record from a beloved experimental Japanese jazz outfit that helped ease me into the chaotic other side of that state of being known as music. Blithering in its serenity (if that makes any damn sense), you are subjected to batshit spaceiness in time signatures that shouldn't even be real (the keyboard driven title cut), the lovechild of Miles Davis and The Rolling Stones copulated in a bath of acid ('Tipographica's Worst Date') and, near the end of the record, stark & perfect beauty - a sort of yearning from the calls of a single saxophone into the distance of a mysterious night time city ('A Smell Of Gunpowder, And A Flavor Of She'), and thus the journey ends...only to begin again at your beck and call.
Probably my favorite latter period record from this classic electronic outfit: the keyboard-laden sound of it amidst a seemingly infinite plethora of keys and synth texturing is comparable to being suspended in the oceanic depths alluded to in the title of the record and songs, yet the guitar work of Edgar Froese on pieces such as 'Song Of The Whale (Pt. I)' is in and of itself a wonder to hear too.
As far as ambient-oriented New Age goes, this record holds more edge than most, so enjoy thoroughly!
Wait, a GOOD Boy Band album? With major New Jack Swing vibes? IMPOSSIBLE!
Yessir, this is some prime ribbage from R&B's chunkier plastic pile of the late 80's. Sure the cheese meter is going into overdrive on multiple instances and everyone looks like a reject from someone's ghetto rendition of Kraftwerk, but when style and substance come together this well in this particular niche, the results are fantastic. Killer harmonies, sick beats, and some very solid songwriting all packaged together under the premise of outright commercialism -- who woulda' thunk it?
