Let's be honest—three white, nerdy, Hoboken NJ-based alt-rock indie superstars will probably never earn the amount of cred for this song that Sun Ra has earned in his years of groundbreaking musical endeavors. But Yo La Tengo aren't stupid, and I'm sure they realize this.

Like their Fort Thunder brethren, Forcefield's music is usually best supplemented by their performance art, which features the band (members Patootie Lobe, Meerk Puffy, Gorgon Radeo, and Le Geef) in full-knit suits which look suspiciously like afghans lifted from grandma's couch twenty-three years ago. 'Roggaboggas' is supposedly a companion piece to the Forcefield art collective's appearance at the 2002 Whitney Biennial (they were one of the few fresh sights at the Biennial), which was itself a symptom of the art world's tardy adoption of the deceased Fort Thunder.

The second release from this German label is available just in time to combat numerous other obnoxious holiday releases. Attention record store clerks: demand this gets played instead of those goddamned 'Very Special Christmas' or Mariah Carey albums.

Good luck still finding this one, as if you didn't get it while they were on tour, your only chance is off their website, where they may still have a few copies left. Available at the merchandise counter on their European tour, this EP is a collection of studio tracks the band has released as bonus tracks on import releases of the album or on other tour releases, as well as a couple of live recordings.

These two onslaughts of hard, relentless, unapologetic female funk could very well be the most brilliant albums I've bought all year. Born in Pittsburgh, PA, Betty Mabry's musical career began as a professional songwriter before she had even reached the age of 20. A brief marriage to Miles Davis gave her a new last name and turned Miles on to musicians like Sly Stone and Jimi Hendrix (by the way, that's her on the cover of 'Filles de Kilimanjaro').

Kicking off with the previously unreleased track "Good Man", Christian Fennesz treats us to a taste of what's to come: warm, earthy textures in the digital whirrs and purrs, handled with his usual careful composition. This is followed by the four pieces from the out-of-print "Instrument" 12", released by MEGO in 1995.

The stuttering jagged rhythms of the buzzing guitars set up a hypnotic rhythm and then suddenly, the first screams of a totally abstracted rage come from the new Isis disc's opening track, "The Beginning and the End". Straight off, an impressive start. One of the recent spate of signings to Ipecac Records, Isis have been around for a while, though not in as high-profile a setting. Instead they've been building a fanbase slowly.

It is no surprise that Halon is receiving props and comparisons to Trans Am. Their sound is very much a combination of electronic beeps/synthesizer glory and rock aggression. Slowing it down here and there, Halon let the groove settle in, and even throw in the odd field vocal for good measure or sing a bit. Their sense of humor is also firmly in check, like on the aptly titled "Conan Main Title".

Who needs Japanese editions when bonus tracks end up surfacing on singles anyhow, right? In an interview this year, Alan Sparhawk described one of their more cheery, poppier sounding tunes, "Canada," as being all about death, materialism and Heaven. "You can't take that stuff to Canada" is the repeated line in the song, and Canada is up north for most people in the USA,...

The hilarious packaging for this release would have us believe they're a clean-cut, fun-loving rock'n'roll band getting into scrapes and solving mysteries Scooby Doo-style. They're actually experimental improvisers who've made a successful crack at differentiating their record from the hundreds of others which opt for a dour, minimalist presentation.

Peaches has a little secret. She doesn't want you to know that deep, down inside, she's not a filthy slut, but a respectable Canadian-born music teacher living in Berlin. However, in the three years and three incarnations of this release, she has gone from what seemed, at first, to be a campy underground joke to an internationally-renowned dirty post-disco diva.

The Catheters craft hard, agressive, and at times completely merciless rock in the strongest traditions of the genre. Their sound is menacing and fast-paced, while vocalist, Brian Standeford sounds like he either wants his vocal cords to bleed, or your head to explode starting with your ears first.

I haven't listened to His Name Is Alive for about six or seven years, so I wasn't sure I had the right disc in my stereo when I pressed play and expected to hear the new album, 'Last Night.' The recent blitz of 4AD releases which all look thoroughly similar (computer-blurred images on a dark background digipak) didn't help my confusion, either. Instead of the dreamy His Name Is Alive indie pop I expected, what I got was a soulful, jazzy hybrid of funk and R&B with female vocals I did not recognize.

Summer music for wintery people.

It's like the Teletubbies trying to trip you out, and it's not working.

After releasing three singles on SharkAttack! and providing very little information about themselves, Charlene release their eponymous debut full-length. While the singles were simple, sparse, and often brief, these recordings feature a denser sound, with more instruments and a clear evolution in production.

 

Vice Records
Let me just say this one thing to our entire British audience before I get started with this review: Just because you guys import our urban music by the barrel doesn't mean we Americans should have to put up with any quantity of yours. Sure, we'll take the occasional Craig David track and play the video on M2, but we have no interest in your "So Solid" UK Garage (save for the R&B-like MJ Cole and Artful Dodger). That being said, my heart is filled with nothing but the purest of pity for the poor A&R over at Vice Records who's going to lose his or her job in the crash and burn effort to attain some level of crossover success with The Streets. Sole member Mike Skinner may speak directly to the British youth in the same way that Eminem speaks to suburban white teenagers, but he's speaking an entirely different language than what this market speaks. The lyric sheet that came with this promo CD is essential for any attempt to understand the heavy slang here, although some translations would be even more useful (birds = bitches; geezers = UK garage wiggers). While I could waste far too much of my time slagging The Streets' total lack of lyrical flow, I'll just say that it really takes away from the mediocre tracks underneath. The peppy single "Has It Come To This?" sounds like a radio spot where the hyper-caffeinated disc jockey babbles on, unable to oblige the listeners by shutting the fuck up and go back to the music they actually tuned in for. Sadly, this song stands among the few-and-far-between decent moments of the album. Tracks like "Sharp Darts," "Don't Mug Yourself," and "Too Much Brandy" are so ridiculously bad that I am stunned that a reputable music magazine like NME praised 'Original Pirate Material' as a "landmark record." Still, a handful of the songs would have worked as instrumentals, namely the moody two-step lurch of "Geezers Need Excitement" and the string washes of "It's Too Late." Though I'll take another twelve Damon Albarn side-projects before I listen to anything like this again, 'Original Pirate Material' does manage to come out sounding better than that last Vincent Gallo compilation, destined to be the worst CD of the year no matter how many more British MCs release albums in 2002.

 

samples:

• Sharp Darts
• Geezers
• Too Late

The peculiarity of Pavement's music to me has always been its indifference. A song like "Loretta's Scars" is at once dreary as well as rousing. Stephen Malkmus's slackeristic vocals contribute to the indifference, but I think it has more to do with the unconventional composition of Pavement's songs. On the one hand, at the time 'Slanted and Enchanted' was recorded, you had a bunch of fellows who, at best, had moderate skill with their instruments, yet a fairly intimate connection with them. On the other hand, part of the band was living outside NYC, while the other part was back in Stockton, California, and so the result is a sort of bicoastal composition which successfully hybridized a bunch of antagonistic pairs: Malkmus's melody craft with Kannberg's explosiveness; menacing snarls with mournful croons; an East Coast melancholy with a west coast optimism.

Release / Subarachnoid Space
Terrastock 5 was an outrageous weekend-long nostalgia fest. By the evening of Sunday I'd really had enough of musty old psychedelic rock. The day had been disappointing. I was mostly hanging out at the bar, happy for any distraction from the music that came my way when suddenly, in the middle of it all, SubArachnoid Space made my day. They punched through all the dross, chatter, space and bodies and captivated my attention. At last, here was the prog rock aesthetic demonstrating its superior durability by sweeping away all the psych cobwebs of the weekend. Despite some technical issues, their sound was excellent—very loud but tight, punchy and clear. The first rate drumming, which reminded me of Police-era Stuart Copeland and of Trans Am's second album, combined with massive wedges of bass (sufficient to cause a perceptible draft) to lay down the groove while ingenious guitar figures and washes filled out the well delineated compositions. This was so good that, in a guilty, devil-may-care frame of mind, I broke the terms of my unemployment and bought a couple of their CDs. The first, "These Things Take Time" on Release was recorded live at KFJC in Silicon Valley in 1999 and the second "Play Nice" is a self-released 2002 tour CDR comprising bootleg-quality recordings from rehearsals and concerts. To be candid, if SubArachnoid had played like they did on these CDs in their T5 set, I wouldn't have bought any CDs. "Play Nice" holds some of live set's powers (check the samples) but overall the material is, unfortunately, much more psych than it is prog. While SubArachnoid's set at T5 was (blessedly) on the fringes, the music on these CDs would have been right in the middle of the T5 spectrum, almost definitive: lugubrious noodling jams with lashings of space echo on the guitar — pleasant enough in their own right, sometimes breaking the barrier into interesting, a long way from being enthralling and almost memorable. The good news is that SubArachnoid Space are working on a new album.

 

samples (from "Play Nice"):

• Peak
• Glucose
• Honorable Mention