This isn't necessarily representational of what Von Bingen sounds like on record. It's still pretty bloody good, though. Yeah, more electronic than rock, but a good way to assimilate both concepts.
I kinda have no idea why this was slated for posting here. I must have come across it while reading Alex Ross' book on twentieth century classical music. Hindemith is entertaining - apparently - but not something all too useful for repeat visits.
Steering the department during the sixties granted the school an open mindedness related, in some ways, to the psych groups on the other side of the Bay bridge. But what’s so remarkable about Mills is that eighty years before Oliveros worked there, the school began a tradition of fostering composers and players who wanted to try new avenues of writing and performing works.
Beginning their adolescent life as the Misfits, the band eventually changed its name, arguably for the better. The newly named group surely came off less like a bunch of reprobates and more like psych foragers – surely that was the intention. But coming out of a scene with the likes of Roky Erikson and even lesser groups like the Golden Dawn, the fact that Lost and Found’s made it through to the new millennia is surprising.
That’s not to say the group didn’t have anything going for it, but the fact that a cover of the Elevators’ “Don’t Fall Down” sits prominently at the heart of Everybody's Here, Lost and Founds’ only long player, hints at the lack of original material – not in a sense of writing new compositions, but writing new compositions that don’t have easily pegged antecedents. There’s even a something that sounds a bit like a jug ringing out at one point on the disc.
As for Denmark – and since the US hasn’t had a war there, I’m gonna have a hard time pointing to it on a map – singing in Danish was probably only going to be able to appeal to the country’s own population. But seeing as even in the late sixties, English had been come international currency, so to speak, Freed went and mustered an album rife with Western references – linguistic and otherwise. There’s still some Danish on there, but you know…
“Visions,” which only sports “bam-ba-bas” as lyrics, is just simple hippie, acoustic guitar number. And since Freed intended to use these tracks as a demo to potentially connect with a label, it seems an odd choice. All chorded and going nowhere, the song sports an pleasant enough, airy feel, but it’s not anything just-passable players would be able to come up with.
Following that track, though, there’s a spate of vaguely funky beat combo tracks dating itself in the tenor of not just its music, but the titles. As if “Visions” wasn’t ridiculous enough the three minute “Dreamgirl” is all hyperbolic dreaming even as the music meets the Doors head on for organ led hippie band.
It’s difficult to profess ambient and metal going hand in hand as descriptions, but with the whirring sound of guitars coming off in manner not too different than electronic drones, it works. When Brutal Truth showed up at the beginning of the nineties sporting one time Anthrax bassist Dan Lilker in its line-up, black metal and all of grindcore’s attendant antecedents were firmly in place. Underground music was becoming a marketplace unto itself. And the demand outside major markets for heavy music allowed for all manner of group’s to make a career out of plodding anger.
“A year ago, the girls literally met at CMJ three days before our first show; we practiced nine hours a day in Brooklyn leading up to it,” Dee Dee Penny, The Dum Dum Girls’ singer and public face, says recounting her shift from solo act to actualized band in last September’s Interview.
The Dum Dum Girls, an all-female garage and pop group from California, are set to perform a few days prior to the Beets appearing in town. With unimpeachable songwriting talent, but admittedly a bit short on the musical acumen, Dee Dee Penny leads the ensemble through a spate of fully realized numbers, replete with emotive vocal-vibrato echoing through choruses. The group’s quick ascent to Sub Pop sponsorship, a graduation from the smaller, newly influential Captured Tracks, and the band’s recent release of the He Gets Me High EP shouldn’t be a stunning revelation at this point. Surely, there are still Smashing Pumpkins fans around. What about Stone Temple Pilots, though? Or Hum.
Apart from how amazing this song's title is, it counts as a pretty decent representation of what dumb stoner rock should be. That sounds negative, but it's not. Bongsession? Yes, please.
After the Sex Pistols basically did all it was capable of over the course of a full length album – well, there was that soundtrack, but it didn’t seem to be a concerted studio affair – scattered band members picked up other groups or did too much smack and potentially killed their girlfriend. Lyond wasn’t a murderer, so he picked up Jah Wobble and Keith Levene in order to sort out Public Image Ltd’s first line up.
Even if "Slow Death" marked a return to visibility by the Flamin' Groovies, it was also a decidedly different approach to rock and or roll. Folks decrying the change seem ridiculous - almost as much as folks who don't get down with the band in the first place.
Arktis, in marked contrast to many of its forgotten peers, had a plan in place to achieve commercial success, its stop over in self-produced hell was to only be temporary. During the early seventies as more and more far fetched rock acts were being embraced by commercial radio and its attendant record imprints, Arktis believed itself to be the purveyors of something unique. It wasn’t, but the band was a pretty talented bunch, leaving current listeners to wonder why this German ensemble wasn’t lent an ear, but Genesis is internationally famous. Yeah, that’s an empty comparison, but still, Genesis?
Anyway, Sonic Youth’s a perennial favorite among all the keen intellectuals, or at least keen record collectors who fancy themselves intellectually engaged. The band’s a world unto themselves having created not just a wealth of recorded material over the last thirty years, but its various tunings, which one would imagine might be hard to duplicate on the spot. If it ever became a necessity to work up a song, replete with singular tuning, dating back to the early eighties, it might prove straight up impossible.