Shining: Live Blackjazz album and DVD (Indie Recordings / Prosthetic Records)

Shining: "Fisheye"

With its 2010 album, Blackjazz, Norway’s Shining completed a transition from jazz experimentalism to classically informed prog-fusion to sinister electro-industrial metal. The transformation seems extreme, but when heard linearly, it feels surprisingly natural. Much of that transformational fluidity, in fact, is owed to the band’s hyperkinetic live show, where old and new tunes alike are delivered with equal parts precision and punishment.

A combined DVD and live album, Live Blackjazz documents Shining’s cathartic stage show in stunning quality while bordering on sensory overload. Live recordings generally aren’t recommended for first introductions — but, as you might have guessed, Shining isn’t your average band.

- Scott Morrow

Liberteer: Better to Die on Your Feet than Live on Your Knees (Relapse)

Liberteer: "Build No System"

As the new solo moniker of Santa Cruz grind veteran and multi-instrumentalist Matt Widener, Liberteer has delivered a maiden opus that might truly justify using the words “grindcore” and “opera” in the same breath. It’s an epic and unorthodox debut — one that plays essentially as one continuous song while marrying D-beat crust to horns, flutes, banjos, and marching snares.

As expected, the album contains plenty of bellowing, ultra-low B-tuned guitar and blast-beat bury. But from the very first banjo plucks and bugle-horn strains on the introductory track, it’s obvious that Widener’s over-the-top militarism is meant as a parody of patriotic fervor.

- Saby Reyes-Kulkarni

Jono El Grande: The Choko King (Rune Grammofon)

In late 2010, the eccentric Norwegian guitarist and avant-garde composer known as Jono El Grande (born Jon Andreas Håtun) released Phantom Stimulance, a collection of previously unreleased tunes from his archives and songs that he transformed beyond recognition, demanding to be heard.

This year, Jono reached even further into his stash to bring us The Choko King, another compilation of unheard music dating back to 1995 — four years before his debut as Jono El Grande. Though the album lacks a certain cohesiveness present in his other releases, the songs serve as rough sketches illustrating his strangely brilliant mind.

For the uninitiated, Jono’s avant-garde compositions may seem either absurd and inaccessible or merely a cacophony of random sounds. Tracks like “Türbø Meuz,” however, exemplify the amount of time and labor that goes into every quirky detail: in his “insanely nerdy details” about the album, Jono explains the song’s 12-year evolution from a 20-minute orchestral piece to the two-minute art-rock composition on The Choko King.

Though some of the early pieces are interesting to hear as bizarre ideas unfolding, “Türbø Meuz” and the other later ideas showcase the more fully realized, Frank Zappa-esque era of Mr. El Grande. Certain tracks may rub you the wrong way, but given that the majority are under one or two minutes, it doesn't take long for the album to cross back into mad genius.

- Meaghann Korbel

Honorable Mentions

Buxton: Nothing Here Seems Strange (New West)

Leonard Cohen: Old Ideas (Columbia)

Gotye: Making Mirrors (Universal)

Hospitality: s/t (Merge)

Imperial Teen: Feel the Sound (Merge)

Lana Del Rey: Born to Die (Interscope)

Novalima: Karimba (ESL)

Zeena Parkins: Double Dupe Down (Tzadik)

Gregory Rogove: Piana, performed by John Medeski (Knitting Factory)

John Zorn: Mount Analogue (Tzadik)

My Brightest Diamond: All Things Will Unwind (Asthmatic Kitty)

My Brightest Diamond: "Reaching Through to the Other Side"

Detroit-based singer/songwriter Shara Worden has long made a career as an indie-pop mercenary. Over the past decade or so, she has lent her talents to Sufjan Stevens’ Illinoisemakers, collaborated with The Decemberists, covered Radiohead for an OK Computer tribute album, appeared on numerous compilations (including her excellent cut on Dark Was the Night), and contributed to the chamber ensemble yMusic (which also includes Bon Iver, Antony & The Johnsons, the New York Philharmonic, and Rufus Wainwright).

Clearly, Worden has no problem keeping busy. But even in the midst of her many endeavors, Worden has found time for her indie-pop pet project, My Brightest Diamond, without ever skimping on musical quality or integrity.

Such is the case on All Things Will Unwind, My Brightest Diamond’s third effort on Asthmatic Kitty, as Worden’s talents are as focused and as strong as ever. Swaying between sweet, soft-edged crooning (“She Does Not Brave the War”) to full-on, forceful belt-outs (the latter half of “Be Brave”), Worden knows exactly what she’s doing. The songs swell and sway, kept adrift — and often take flight — thanks to Worden’s cosmic vocal work.

The album is suspended by quirky arrangements and orchestrations, serving as a backdrop to Worden’s ever-present voice. And Worden — an educated composer who has turned out several scores for off-Broadway productions — intertwines vocals and music together flawlessly, devising a kind of majestic, orchestral masterpiece.

- Text by Michael Danaher. Read the full review here.

Rob Crow: He Thinks He's People (Temporary Residence)

Rob Crow: "Sophistructure"

Rob Crow doesn't like to be pigeon-holed. As a musician, he's built numerous additions onto the foundational Pinback, which he cofounded in 1998 with Zach Smith. Those side projects have spanned math rock (Heavy Vegetable), doom metal (Goblin Cock), and indie pop (Optiganally Yours), and that diversity shows up immediately — albeit in pop form — on Crow's latest effort, He Thinks He's People. The intellectual songwriter offers five sounds in the first five tracks, which leaves eight more tracks to explore eight more sounds. He almost does it.

The diversity works because the tracks are short, but if there's a drawback to Crow's willingness — and ability — to play whatever style comes to him, it's that the album struggles for cohesion. Fortunately, Crow gives us the simple and driving drum beat that's typical of Pinback, which grounds the record and keeps it from floating away. The array of pop styles also means that listeners have to give the album more than one chance, which might be a fool-proof way to build a fan base. You've got "This Thread" for Mark Kozalek fans, "Build" for math nerds who like to play with time signatures, and everything else for those folks who like Crow for Crow.

The other common thread on He Thinks He's People is Crow's rather flippant approach. The art consists of a Microsoft Paint-style illustration of a stick figure in a doghouse. Songs are titled things like "Pat's Crabs," "Tranked," and "Locking Seth Putnam in Hot Topic." The music recalls Benji Hughes in that it's music that seems to say, "Who gives a shit?" even when you know it's giving a shit.

- Text by Timothy S. Aames.

Freestyle Fellowship: The Promise (Decon)

Freestyle Fellowship: “Step 2 the Side”

In the early ’90s, LA rap group Freestyle Fellowship burst on the scene with an innovative blend of jazzy/funky hip-hop production and dizzying rhymes. Though the group only had two albums before reuniting for Temptations in 2001, its members — Aceyalone, Myka 9, PEACE, Self Jupiter, and J Sumbi — have gone on to notable solo careers and collaborations (including with Haiku D’Etat and Abstract Rude), and Fellowship has maintained a legendary status ever since its inception.

The Promise is the Fellowship’s first album in 10 years, and it reflects a modernized sound. Though Temptations was more nuanced and reflected stylistic growth — and less of that early-’90s style — The Promise leaps into the synthesized world.

The group’s diverse samples and unconventional hooks, as usual, keep things fresh from track to track, while still retaining the characteristics that were adopted by contemporaries such as A Tribe Called Quest and successors such as Jurassic 5 and Blackalicious. “Gimmie,” about a handout-seeking acquaintance, is one of the album’s best examples of the group’s matured sound, working a fat synth sound and boom-bap beat over a neoclassical string melody and piano tinkling.

There’s just enough of new and old for old-school fans and newbies alike. Whether or not you’ve been initiated to the Fellowship, pick up The Promise.

Electro Quarterstaff: Aykroyd (Willowtip)

Electro Quarterstaff: "Waltz of the Swedish Meatballs"

Hailing from the urban wilds of Winnipeg, Electro Quarterstaff is an instrumental tech-metal quintet in the vein of Dysrhythmia and its ilk. Whereas other progressive outfits with a zillion riffs opt for smaller lineups, Electro Quarterstaff rounds out its sound with a triple guitar assault, maximizing its potential for harmonies and solos.

Though there's always a lot going on, the guitars typically don't overload the listener, and the axe-men try to avoid getting in each other's way. If there's a complaint, it's that the band doesn't stretch into its cited (personal) influences, outside of Gorguts (which includes two members of Dysrhythmia). The MO of Electro Quarterstaff is not one of a genre-hopping metal band, but it would be interesting to hear the group touch on the non-metal influences, which include Frank Zappa, Miles Davis, and Béla Bartók.

Five years after the band's last album, Aykroyd is not a departure; it simply finds Electro Quarterstaff refining its riff-intensive style. Don't let the album's beautiful minor-key intro fool you: Aykroyd is all riffs all the time, displaying masterful skills without coming off as self-indulgent.

Sandro Perri: Impossible Spaces (Constellation)

Sandro Perri: "Love and Light"

Over the course of five side projects and countless collaborations, Toronto-based producer Sandro Perri has dabbled in many styles, offering touches of indie pop, Western music, and more to his folk-based style.

Impossible Spaces, his third solo album, fully steps outside of Perri’s categorical boundaries. The indie-folk foundation is augmented by elements of electronica, jazz, and bossa nova, made possible by a diverse palette that includes guitar, flute, oboe, brass, synths, and samples. Many of the musical elements transform mid-song, through crescendos or the entry of bass, but Perri’s soulful voice remains as the album’s constant, softening any stylistic alterations.

- Text by Lauren Zens.

Sahy Uhns: An Intolerant Disdain of Underlings (Proximal)

Sahy Uhns: "Anticipation of the Night"

Sahy Uhns (pronounced "science") is the solo moniker of electronic/hip-hop producer Carl Madison Burgin, whose debut CD comes as part of a 5" x 5" book with photographs of dilapidated homes in the California deserts. The deserts are said to have inspired the album, but the glitchy, beat-ridden sounds therein are more the soundtrack for robots break-dancing than cactus needles rustling in the wind.

Though at times it simply resembles another detailed IDM album, An Intolerant Disdain of Underlings stands out with highly melodic phrasings and nuanced differences in timbre. "I'mage" is one of the album's best examples, as its blipping 8-bit sounds lead into twangy, squirming melodies that seemingly are from sequenced kora or lute samples. Huge break beats then drop back in the mix to optimal effect.

Falling somewhere between the styles of Warp recording artists (Chris) Clark and Harmonic 313, Sahy Uhns' debut is a beautiful, danceable sound collage that's good for the car or the dance floor.

- Text by Scott Morrow. Read the full review here.

Honorable Mentions

Class Actress: Rapprocher (Carpark)

Cradle of Filth: Evermore Darkly… EP (Nuclear Blast)

Guantlet Hair: s/t (Dead Oceans)

House of Low Culture: Poisoned Soil (Taiga / Sub Rosa)

Jonti: Twirligig (Stones Throw)

Kuedo: Severant (Planet Mu)

M83: Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming! (Mute)

Moholy-Nagy: Like Mirage (Temporary Residence)

Puscifer: Conditions of My Parole

Trayer: Afterlife an Abandoned Theme Park (Porter)

Primus: Green Naugahyde (ATO / Prawn Song, 9/13/11)

Primus: "Tragedy's a'Comin'"

"It's kind of like trying to describe a wine," chuckles Primus bandleader/bassist Les Claypool. "Everybody has their different adjectives that they use."

Responding to the suggestion that the oddball Bay Area trio's new album, Green Naugahyde, was recorded and mixed with a more transparent "sound" than previous work, Claypool doesn't necessarily agree or disagree. The album is the band's first full-length in 12 years, and listeners, of course, are bound to draw their own conclusions.

"Whatever 'transparent' means to you," he continues, "might be different than what it means to me. From a production standpoint, the approach to this thing was very similar to what we've always done, which is record ourselves at my house. Over the years, I've collected a bunch of old vintage gear — we recorded to tape through an old API console, so it's a very clean, very crisp, very clear recording. And for the most part, we weren't coloring things after the fact. It was going to tape as raw as we could possibly put it to tape. But there's also a lot of contrast between the individual songs."

Certainly, the instrumentation and overall mood both vary dramatically from song to song. As an example, Claypool points to how newly returned drummer Jay Lane uses larger, "more bombastic" drums on certain tunes as opposed to others, while the toy-like rattle of Lane's bells and high-pitched percussion takes center stage on "Eternal Consumption Engine," which also features a bowed acoustic bass and evokes the giddy disorder of a 19th Century sideshow. That song is immediately followed by the hard-charging Bootsy Collins-meets-Larry Graham funk of "Tragedy's a' Comin'," which in turn is followed by the static, claustrophobic apprehension of "Eyes of the Squirrel."

Such variety, though, is nothing new for a Primus album, and in the bigger picture, the most significant contrast comes courtesy of Lane, whose very presence sets the new material apart from the band's entire (official) back catalog. Lane, who has also worked with former Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir's group RatDog and Charlie Hunter among others, comes back to Primus after a long history with Claypool: he was the band's drummer just prior to the recording of its first album, 1989's Suck on This, and took part in the one-off 1994 reunion of the pre-Suck on This lineup under the name Sausage. Since 2000, he also has participated in several of Claypool's solo-oriented projects and releases. Compared to his more forceful predecessors, Tim "Herb" Alexander and Bryan "Brain" Mantia, Lane's loose, winding style allows the band to indulge its lighter, more flexible side.

"He's always been my go-to guy when I could get him," explains Claypool, whose esteem for Lane's musical ability dates back to the '80s, when Lane was playing in San Francisco world-beat ensemble The Freaky Executives. "Even when he joined Primus back in the day, we couldn't believe it. It was like, 'Wow, Jay Lane wants to play with us!' Unfortunately, he had a record deal with The Freaky Executives, and when Primus started getting popular, we were like, 'Hey, dude, you need to make a decision here.' He went with the record deal. We made our first record a month later, and away we went."

Lane's return reconnects the band to the time before long-time guitarist Larry LaLonde became a member. In fact, until 2010, the two had never been in Primus at the same time. A quick re-cap: In 1988, Primus consisted of Claypool, Lane, and guitarist Todd Huth (later reunited as the aforementioned Sausage). At the time, that lineup had already come up with the bulk of the material that would end up in live form on Suck on This and in studio form on the band's 1990 signature classic Frizzle Fry. Though Huth wrote most of the guitar lines on those songs — Claypool and LaLonde both credit Huth profusely for his contribution during the band's formative stages — LaLonde's indescribable style and searing electro-static tone made an indelible mark on the sound. Before joining, LaLonde had played in the thrash band Possessed and taken guitar lessons from Joe Satriani. He also had played with Claypool in the progressive-metal band Blind Illusion. But by the time he tried out for Primus, LaLonde was turning the corner on a fresh way to approach his instrument.

"It's funny, because I was just cleaning out my garage the other day," LaLonde says, "and I found some old Possessed records. I was listening to them and I was like, 'Wow, this music was actually kind of crazy.' It was definitely challenging, guitar-wise. But hearing things like King Crimson and [Frank] Zappa made me want to write crazy guitar stuff. When I joined Primus, it was like, 'Here's my chance to make the type of crazy music that I grew up listening to.'"

LaLonde himself was impressed with how natural it felt to accommodate Huth's established parts.

"It was definitely one of the weirdest things about when I first got in the band," he reminisces. "When I started learning some of Todd's parts, I was like, 'Whoa, this reminds me of the style I was going for already.'"

"For me," Claypool offers, "it was just about chemistry. I didn't realize it back then, but I realize it much more now: the way somebody plays is like their speaking voice. I think people's playing very much represents their personalities. As much as we all have individual, unique personalities, there are people that try and conform and be very much like other people and not step outside the box. The people I've always been attracted to on any level — even as far as hanging out — are people who are a bit odd. So it seemed natural that someone like Ler would be in my camp.

"I'm sure that both of those guys would agree — maybe they won't — but to me, Todd was more like Robert Fripp, whereas Ler was more like Adrian Belew. They both have similar styles that complement each other very well. Todd was a little more precise, but he would play the freakiest, most odd-time shit you ever heard in your life. We used to call it 'Todd time' because he had a hard time playing in 4. If you said, 'Okay, on your own, play something in 4,' he would have a hard time. He could play any Tony Iommi or classic-rock lick, but when he plays his own stuff, to this day — and we're actually going to stream the new Porch album on our website because it's really cool — he has this certain way of playing that's just Todd. It used to drive Jay Lane crazy."

Claypool expounds further on the differences between the various players, and how Primus' sound shifted with each personnel change.

"Jayski is like the funkiest guy on the planet," Claypool says. "He has this sort of Dave Garibaldi-meets-Stewart Copeland thing. He's Mr. Hi-Hat guy. He's got that Minneapolis-funk thing goin'. Whereas when Tim came in, it was like, 'Whoa, now we got Bill Bruford-meets-Neil Peart.' With Jayski, it was way more funky. And obviously, Ler's got more of an edge to him. He was playing through a Marshall half-stack, so I knew, as soon as the three of us started playing: 'We're a rock band now.' Before, we were more like — I don't even know — like a funky XTC or something."

In order to bring Lane back this time, however, Claypool first had to get over his initial reservations about the drummer's existing commitment to Grateful Dead founding member Bob Weir.

"It kind of got to where I was stepping on Bob's toes," Claypool says, "so I stopped working with Jay for a while. Bob's such a great guy, and I didn't want to bum him out. But it was time for Jayski to come back."

Lane's contribution, Claypool insists, runs much deeper than the music: "Just on a personal level, Jayski's a big, happy guy. He's one of these people that wakes up with a smile on his face. He's very positive and happy. That's a huge thing to have in your life and one reason why we've been friends for so long."

Lane also makes it easier for the band to be more spontaneous and free in coming up with new material.

"The thing about Jayski that I've always found incredibly exciting," Claypool raves, "is that no matter how much his kit is set up, as soon as I start playing something, within two measures he jumps right in with me. And he always has. It could be just a snare and a kick drum and hi-hat with everything else splayed all over the floor, and as soon as I start playing, he starts playing too. He's that intuitive."

So much so, apparently, that Claypool cites his comfort level with Lane as the primary reason why Primus is back together in the first place. Green Naugahyde marks the band's return to full-time status since a series of touring reunions that began with the release of the 2003 EP Animals Should Not Try to Act Like People. Throughout those reunions — which reinstated the classic lineup of Claypool, LaLonde, and Alexander — Claypool and LaLonde repeatedly expressed interest in making a new studio full-length but remained non-committal. That album never materialized. All the while, it was never officially confirmed that Primus was back together on a long-term basis.

"I sort of always assumed that at the end of those tours, we would do a record," LaLonde says, speaking while on a break from a recording session scoring "some crazy horror movie" with former Primus drummer Mantia. "Then those tours ended and everyone went and did other things. It's hard to say why. I was usually the guy that was trying to get everyone to do it. I'm not sure why it never totally took off. I think we both knew that Tim wasn't totally into doing it. And we also knew that if Jay wanted to do it, we'd be excited."

Claypool clarifies: "Primus wasn't actually back together from 2003 to 2010. Primus got together in 2003 and did some stuff, and then we got together again in 2006 and did some stuff."

Those bouts of touring, naturally, drew a lot of attention back to Primus, and Claypool says that he grew frustrated with people referring to his work outside of the band as his "side projects."

"Primus was actually the side project," he stresses. "From 2000 to 2010, my focus was doing my stuff. That 10-year period was the most amazing, most prolific time of my entire life. I loved it, and it was very difficult for me to give up the band I had for [2009 solo album] Of Fungi and Foe to come back and do Primus.

"If it wasn't for Jay Lane, I wouldn't have done it. Tim is a great guy and he's an amazing player, obviously, but we've never really had a great personal relationship. It was always…'fine,' but it wasn't like we were all excited to get together and hang. We've actually never hung out at all. And from the creative standpoint, we'd kind of hit the wall. Even when we were talking about doing a record, there just didn't seem to be any interest. When we'd do soundchecks, which is when we'd try to jam and come up with interesting ideas, it just wasn't happening. The notion of making a record wasn't flowing naturally, so it wasn't an exciting prospect for me. But making this record was incredibly easy."

Though it's unfair to conclude that this new-found ease shaped the music in any direct, tangible way, Green Naugahyde makes for a less challenging listen than, say, the murky abrasion of 1993 album Pork Soda, or the strobing post-metal psychedelia of Frizzle Fry. Whereas those early albums capture Primus striding into uncharted creative territory with an almost manic fervor, the new album falls within boundaries that the band established more than two decades ago. With that said, the more we take Primus' sound for granted today, the more it speaks to what the band has accomplished. The new material, in fact, demonstrates just how adept Claypool, LaLonde, and Lane (all of whom contributed songs for the album) have gotten at writing hallmark Primus songs without simply regurgitating old ideas. And, as always, sinister shadows lurk within the music's deceptive, cartoon-like bounce. Every Primus album harbors an undercurrent of human drama, even pathos, but Green Naugahyde reflects a harsher, more personal edge than previous efforts.

"Last Salmon Man," for example, at first come across like a goofy tale about a father-son pair of fishermen before revealing itself as an ominous warning. Claypool sings of a declining fish population and the ruin that ensues as the twin specters of human excess and ecological disaster loom at the edges of the frame. Typical of Claypool's style, his delivery remains impassive even while he paints a picture of mounting desperation. Elsewhere on the album, he references heroin addiction, cancer, the Gulf Coast oil spill, the shooting of a pedophile, and (on three separate songs) the ravenous demands of material consumption and advertising.

"I've always been exorcising demons in Primus' lyrics," Claypool says. "A lot of it has to do my family in terms of substance abuse. But I've always done it through these characters. I'm a big fan of [Frank] Capra, Elia Kazan, and the Coen brothers, and they always have these very compelling characters that tend to be very tragic. But you also like seeing them. You love seeing Steve Buscemi shoot that guy in the parking lot in Fargo, even though it's such a fucked-up thing. That's the way a lot of these characters are in my music. And even though now and again there's a beaver or Tommy the Cat that's a little more lighthearted, there's always this tragic undertone to all of them.

"With this new record, there's a lot of shit going on in my life. My mom is on her way out right now. She's got this disease that's affecting her nervous system, and it's really hard to watch. Plus, my brother's little baby boy was diagnosed with leukemia earlier this year. So that's where 'Tragedy's a' Comin" comes from. But the music itself is so lighthearted and 'up' that it's a contradiction."

Contradiction of a different sort has also become a staple element of the live show. When Primus initially broke up in 2000, the band was sharply defined by its progressive tendencies. Like Rush, a group that has exerted a huge and obvious influence, Primus had up to that point flexed its musicianship predominantly in the context of music that held to a rigid structure. But when the band returned to the stage in 2003, it had expanded its approach to incorporate a high degree of improvisation. In retrospect, this makes sense given LaLonde's enduring affinity for Frank Zappa, whose music not only demanded technical mastery but also the ability to think and react on the spot. (For a glimpse into LaLonde's Zappa preferences, see the 2002 Rykodisc compilation Zappa Picks — by Larry LaLonde of Primus.)

Lane's working resume with members of the Grateful Dead, of course, only reinforces Primus' improvisational leanings. But it was Claypool's work in 2000-2001 with Phish bandleader Trey Anastasio and Police drummer Stewart Copeland in the group Oysterhead that inspired him to go further out on a limb.

"We've always had these elements within certain songs where we could stretch out," he explains. "But the Oysterhead thing blew the door wide open to the jam world for me. I didn't even know what the hell the 'jam' world was. Prior to that, I thought, 'I know Trey Anastasio and a couple of the guys in the Grateful Dead' — to me, that was the extent of the jam scene. Then I started to get asked to put together projects. I remember going to do the Oysterhead thing and Trey saying, 'Let's just write a bunch of songs on the spot.' I was like, 'What?' Stewart was even worse. He was like, 'What the hell are you talking about?! Oh, my god, we need to have a plan!' We got out there and we played that [debut] set at the Saenger Theatre [in New Orleans]. Parts of it were just a mess, a train wreck, but parts of it were so amazingly glorious. And it made me realize, 'You know what? These people want to see you take chances.'

"So when I came back in 2003, I had this renewed — well, not renewed, but this sense of 'hey, let's take some chances here. There's a whole group of people who don't want to see you play the song the same every night.' Not that we ever really did that, but in the early days of Primus, there was quite a long period there where we were doing half-hour, 45-minute sets, so there wasn't a whole lot of stretching going on. When we were doing our own tours, there was more stretching, but when we came back in '03, I was stretching out a lot. It definitely has evolved and helped the band evolve. It's also helped me as a player be way more comfortable with the notion of just going out and wingin' it."

On its current run of live dates supporting Green Naugahyde, Primus not only plays two sets but modifies each of the setlists nightly so that the show is never the same. Lane, Claypool says, lobbies most staunchly for the obscure stuff.

"Every night," Claypool says with a laugh, "Jay goes, 'Let's play this song!' and I'm like, 'We've only ever played that song once.' And he's like, 'Let's do it! Let's do "Del Davis Tree Farm."' I'm like, 'Dude, I don't even remember how to play that.' And he'll be like, 'Aw, come on!'"

Claypool ensures, though, that fans of hits and deep cuts alike will be happy.

"Basically," he adds, "we're going to be playing a shitload of music."

The Mayan calendar claims that the world will come to an abrupt end in 2012. We have all heard the hype and suffered through the movies. But even if that prediction falls flat, the pop-music business may still experience its own armageddon shortly thereafter. Are these just the ravings of another music-industry expert flying off the rails? Let's see.

In 2013, many classic recordings are scheduled to slip out of the control of their major labels. No, I’m not referring to odd recordings that no one actually collects. This list of records includes some of the top-selling albums of all time (abbreviated list below)!

Even though music-business insiders have been dreading this for years, the New York Times finally decided that it was a newsworthy enough subject and published a piece a few weeks ago about this issue (called “termination of masters”). Unfortunately, the reporter they assigned seemed to a have limited understanding of how the music business really works, as well as of copyright in general. In his article, he kept interchanging the word “songs” with “master recordings,” which littered his post with inaccurate statements like, “artists can claim their songs in 2013.”

Though this New York Times piece may be new info to outsiders, it is a subject that has long been on the minds of those concerned with the recording industry and artist rights. I reported about the subject in a 2008 Moses Supposes article. Here’s the reprint for your perusal:

Mayan meltdown at majors

The hot topic for the American Bar Association conference in 2008 was “termination of masters,” a little raison d’etre in the copyright act that supposedly levels the playing field for authors who are often at a disadvantage to the big, bad publisher (or record company, in this case). The copyright act states that after 35 years, the license or transfer of a work must “terminate” and revert back to the original author.

With so many variances in the law, we really need an iPhone countdown app to determine which master rights are soon to go bye-bye. But due to several exceptions, the albums that are immediately affected are those released in the US from 1978-1979. So in the year 2013, the following albums may no longer be property of their labels:

The Wall (Pink Floyd)
Van Halen (Van Halen)
Off the Wall (Michael Jackson)
Highway to Hell (AC/DC)
Joe’s Garage (Frank Zappa)
Tusk (Fleetwood Mac)
London Calling (The Clash)
Rust Never Sleeps (Neil Young)
Darkness on the Edge of Town (Bruce Springsteen)
Man the Torpedoes (Tom Petty)
The Kids Are Alright (The Who)
Some Girls (The Rolling Stones)
Fear of Music (Talking Heads)
Rickie Lee Jones (Rickie Lee Jones)

Basically my entire vinyl collection.

Oh, I almost forgot — Breakfast In America by Supertramp. (They can have that one.)

As you can see, this is not an insignificant list, and this list is in no way complete.

Though this may sound like a victory for the artists, keep in mind that without the threat of label litigation, we will likely see a de-facto public-domain-i-zation (I made that word up) of these masters. Artistically, this might be cool because now people can do wacky remixes and P2P them free of lawsuits. But it also means a complete deterioration of the one area that labels have been relying on for the revenue that it takes to invest in new artists: catalog.

And artists too?

Yes! To make matters worse, it’s not only the labels that could get the shaft here but the artist as well. You see, anyone who worked on the recording is considered “an author” and can apply for a “termination of [their] rights.” Anyone. Right down to the hanger-on who played the tambourine because he dropped off weed at the studio and someone said, “Hey, want to jam on the record?”

Imagine being a top heritage artist; you get your masters back and you’re looking forward to making a fresh deal for your classic recording, only to have an army of ex-entourage that you left in the wake of ascension shaking you down. Even if you’re legally in the right, the cost of litigation could bury you.

Several arguments have been forwarded to further define exactly who exactly “the author” is, but so far, each one seems to have just enough merit to pass summary judgment. The fact is that no one knows for sure exactly what or who “the author” will be in this context.

For my anarchist readers, who are presently wringing their hands with glee, I’ll say this: it’s one thing to want labels to suffer because they’re such greedy bastards, and it’s quite another to want to see a complete erosion of classic recordings and financial infrastructure.

This is only a small article on what is going to be a very, very scary topic over the next couple of years. Stay tuned.

What would you do if your label, which claimed that, after selling millions of CDs, you still owe them money, was going to lose rights to the masters? Would you take them back or renew your contract with them? I’ll give you some tips in the next piece on this important subject. What do you think is in the artist’s best interest? Post your answer below. Here’s a clue: it’s not the obvious answer.

Mo out

God God Dammit Dammit: "Un-tie Rosie"

If you are reading this in the northern hemisphere, and it’s anytime before noon, chances are you’re missing the party of your life in South Adelaide, Australia. At the helm of the chaos is God God Dammit Dammit, a ferocious ensemble, comprised of some of the town’s most distinguished hardcore, experimental, and punk musicians, that has earned a reputation for being one of the town’s best live acts.

“When you’re playing a show, you want it to be a show,” lead vocalist Steve Pitkin says. “Everyone dances. The heat in the room is incredible. It gets messy.”

Melding genres from grindcore, funk, jazz, and rock, the band already boasts 13 members and shows no sign of slowing down. “If anything, it continuously gets larger,” Pitkin says.

Adelaide, located in the state of South Australia, is the country’s smallest major city, with a population just smaller than San Diego. Although Adelaide possesses an active arts community, Pitkin and guitarist Dave Gibson found themselves dissatisfied with the city’s musical landscape in the mid-2000s. “I’ve been a part of the Adelaide music scene for 10–15 years,” Pitkin says. “It’s genre-based, and I get bored quite quickly, and wanted to do something different. We talked about having this band that would increase the instruments and some of the elements. We wanted to start a band where we could have no boundaries, have a big canvas.”

Although the project started out as a simple punk band, the group gradually added horn players and percussionists. “We discovered that our friends grew up trying all of these different horns; they had to go back into the closet and dust off the cobwebs,” Pitkin says. Baritone-sax player Matt Smith adds, “We’ve all played in bands, or supported each other’s band, in some form or another before this incarnation, so it’s easy being in [God God Dammit Dammit] because everyone is so familiar with each other.”
 

“When you’re playing a show, you want it to be a show. Everyone dances. The heat in the room is incredible. It gets messy.”

Though the legions have grown, God God Dammit Dammit remains very much a democracy, with each member contributing to the writing process. “Everyone is involved,” Pitkin says. “We all relate through whatever instrument we’re using. Everyone is doing their own thing and has their own style, and Dave is a genius at bringing it all together.”

Likewise, each member is included in the business of putting out the music on member-run Noise Brigade Records. In less than three years, God God Dammit Dammit has released two EPs (including an all-dub side project titled God God Dubbit Dubbit), and planned to release its second full-length in the spring of 2010.

The recording process, like everything else the band does, expands its group-friendly dynamic. “We did get a bit excited,” Pitkin admits. “‘Who else do we know that plays something?’ We have a lot of creative friends who are not afraid to do whatever. It’s going to get even better.”

The diversity of its sound — and a spectacular live show that matches the aggression and vitality of the members’ punk and grindcore roots with the soulful swagger of classic funk and mayhem fueled from Zappa-heavy jazz — has helped God God Dammit Dammit achieve its goal of crossing genre and audience lines. “We’re seeing new faces and playing for new audiences all the time,” Pitkin says. “We’ve created a community here, in the smallest town in Australia.”

“We’ve tried to play nearly every venue in our city, so as to expand the people who hear us; [there are] only about a handful to cross off before we’ve played every one,” Smith jokes.

Equipped with two huge vans — and overlooking the complexities of touring with a large group and the difficulties that it faces with its remote geographic location — God God Dammit Dammit has taken its show on the road in Australia and has aspirations to tour the world.

“I live for playing live shows,” Pitkin says. “We all do. We can’t live without it. Everyone who thinks that rock 'n' roll is dead is bitter and in denial. That’s what I don’t want to be. That’s what we all don’t want to be. I want to feel pain from touring so much — in the best way. In a way, we’re still a pretty young band, still trying to blossom.”

Dosh: "Subtractions"

Percussionist and multi-instrumentalist Martin Dosh, better known as simply Dosh, is known both for his electronic-based solo venture as well as his work with Andrew Bird, with whom he's toured and recorded. The instrumental track is Dosh's specialty; "Simple Exercises," which first appeared on Dosh's 2004 release, Pure Trash, reappeared on Bird's Armchair Apocrypha in 2007 as "Simple X" with an addition of lyrics. In the piece below, Dosh explains what drew him to instrumental music and how a few classic, lyric-less tracks continue to inspire his own music.

The Alchemy of Instrumental Music
by Dosh

I think my interest in music and sound really began when i was around nine or 10 years old; that is to say, that is when I really began LISTENING to music, to the ways instruments and voices worked together, trying to separate the sounds in my mind, trying to understand which sounds were being made by which instruments, and even what the people that played the music may have looked like. I can't recall what the first song that really captured my imagination was, but it was likely by Devo or The Cars, maybe Billy Squier. I've always listened to the music first and digested the vocals and lyrics later. When I first discovered Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin, I found the vocals to be distracting. I couldn't understand why they were there; they seemed like an afterthought.

Once I started playing drums, when i was 15, that was all I really heard when I would listen to a song: the drums. And I played a little bit with some friends, but I didn't truly discover the joy of volume until I went to college two years later.  I spent more time listening to music in my first two years than I spent doing anything else — usually as loud as possible.  I was lucky enough to have a few friends who had massive record collections, and I listened to everything.

There is a certain alchemy in a song that doesn't have words. A good song with no words commands your attention in a different way than a song with words does. It can mean whatever you want it to mean. There aren't words to sing along with or to tell you what the song is about or to tell you how to feel.

In compiling this list of songs and listening back to it, I've been trying to find the common denominator; some of these songs would be classified as jazz, some would be classified as funk, some would be classified as post-rock, some would be classified as electronic, and some would be classified as fusion. To me, all these labels don't help the listener. Each classification has baggage: fusion is uncool, funk is passé, post-rock is pretentious. But what they have in common (with two exceptions) is probably the presence of the electric guitar, often distorted, and varying degrees of studio trickery.

Anyway, these 10 songs are not meant to be a "best instrumental-rock songs of all time" list, just 10 songs that mean a lot to me and have greatly influenced the music that I make.  This music is joyful and thrilling, and it speaks for itself. These songs never get old, and they continue to inspire me.

I realize there are a few vocals on here — Jimi's strange story on "Third Stone From the Sun" and all the crazy baby shrieks on Funkadelic's "Wars of Armageddon" — but that wasn't enough to knock them off the list.

Jeff Beck: "You Know What I Mean" (1975)

Herbie Hancock: "Steppin' in It" (1975)

Sonny Sharrock: "Promises Kept" (1991)

Tortoise:  "TNT" (1998)

Jimi Hendrix: "Third Stone from the Sun" (1966)

Miles Davis: "Spanish Key" (1968)

Frank Zappa: "Big Swifty" (1972)

Funkadelic: "Wars of Armageddon" (1970)

Boards of Canada: "Sixtyniner" (1995)

Squarepusher: "A Journey to Reedham (7AM Mix)" (1997)

Gutbucket: “4 9 8”

Brooklyn-based jazz-rock quartet Gutbucket released its fifth album, Flock, in February on Cuneiform. The band takes its name from the term "gutbucket," which means to play jazz in a particularly exuberant or expressive style, and it claims that its unconventional style has been "injecting a shot of glorious spazmitude into the minimalist cool of the New York downtown scene" for the past 10 years.

Gutbucket's off-the-wall music is the result of its members' distinct contributions and, inevitably, artistic disagreements and compromises. When it comes to food, Gutbucket engages in a similar, hotly contested discourse. So whet your appetite and embrace the taste-bud-inspired tongue lashings with Gutbucket's culinary treatise, "How to Argue About Food."

How to Argue About Food
by Gutbucket

Most bands break up. It's a fact. Rock bands do this quite a bit, and it's often not very friendly. Jazz bands might be a bit more civil about it, or perhaps not. If you're reading this, chances are you've been in a band before, so this is not unfamiliar terrain.

Take three or more humans engaged in a creative endeavor, and ideas, visions, aesthetics, and more will clash. So how do you handle this?

Well, Gutbucket has the answer.

Forget about consensus. Don't pretend you will agree. Embrace the friction, disagreement, discomfort, and argumentative spirit.

But please have other outlets and arenas besides your music in which to behave this way.

That's why Gutbucket chooses to argue, debate, dissect, and regularly disagree about food. Yes, food. We are a band of music nerds who spend most of our time talking about food instead of music.

This is useful. We all eat. We sometimes eat together. We have strong opinions. We can have our strong opinions about food. We have developed an eight-tier rating system for the food we eat, which includes these categories (from worst to best):

1. Not Food / Inedible
2. Disgusting
3. Mediocre
4. Fine
5. Not Bad
6. Good
7. Very Good
8. Excellent

These categories provide an opportunity to further dissect that which more reasonable humans would have abandoned or disregarded as unimportant and juvenile.  But as George Bernard Shaw said, "All progress is the work of unreasonable men."  If he's right, we should have time travel all figured out by the end of our upcoming West Coast USA tour.

You might think that these categories provide the groundwork for consensus…but then you clearly don't know us at all.  They're really just a chance to argue the shades of gray for those rare instances when the four of us come too dangerously close to agreement.

For example, Europe 2009 tour argument #5: Does the rotating, processed meat slab in Mannheim being sliced before your eyes and ever so gently shoved into that thick Turkish bread, covered by some arguably fresh vegetables, and smothered in a yogurt-y sauce, fall into the inedible category? Or is it somehow just "mediocre?"  It does seem to hit the spot for Eric, Ken, and Ty after the gig, yet it leaves Adam feeling sick and somewhat upset. Maybe the meat is hyper-processed and low-grade, but if the doner kebap stand really nails the bread-to-meat-to-veggie-to-sauce ratio, doesn't that automatically bring it up to the cusp of mediocrity?

Ken and Eric once spent the better (though some might say worse) part of an hour before a 2006 set in Athens, Georgia discussing which is a better mass-produced doughnut, Dunkin' or Krispy Kreme.  A waste of time, you say?  (The other band on the show thought so.) Well, fuck you then; we agree on that.

Europe 2011 tour argument #17: "Was that gravy (at the biergarten in Erlangen, Germany) made with molasses?"  "Fuck no, and fuck you for even having that thought!  Probably beef stock."  "Beef stock for pork shoulder?  What are you…a fucking idiot?!?!"  Now isn't that more interesting than talking about the sax solo that Ken took two nights prior in Dresden? And isn't that better than rehashing that old argument about whether or not the music world should have the 1980s wiped from its collective memory (on that question, Ty says no; Eric and Ken say yes)?  But hey, been there, done that. It's "fine."  Should I really give Zappa or King Crimson another chance?  Yawn. "Mediocre."  But was that the saltiest thing you've ever been served (what was that?!?), or was the sugar content of that dessert (see the Freiberger eierschecker) enough to send a lesser man into a diabetic coma?  Now you're talking about shit that matters!  "Excellent!"

Unfortunately, far too many meals in our lives fall into the "fine" category, but from time to time, a discovery is made — the chorizo tacos at El Bronco in Brooklyn; the duck at that biergarten next to the Jazzclub Unterfahrt in Munich; the cold BBQ-pork rice-noodle wraps at Sam Wo's in San Francisco; Al Pastor burritos at El Farolito (this may classify us as San Francisco Mission beginners, but we've tried a lot); the Rangoon Night Market Noodles at Mingala in Manhattan; the Pad Thai at Thai Tom in the Seattle U District; tagliatelle and rabbit in Polenta, Italy; most everything at the veggie Punjabi place around the corner from where we mixed Flock in Manhattan; that perfect croissant Guillaume brought us in Paris.  These are the transformative, transcendent culinary experiences that we live for.  And don't try to argue with that.

Gutbucket is now keeping a food blog.  Go, contribute, and argue at www.GutConsumption.Blogspot.com.  Or listen to our music at www.GutWeb.com or www.YouTube.com/PopeGutbucket.

Jono El Grande: "Borrelia Boogie"

The off-kilter art rock of Norwegian bandleader, composer, singer, guitarist, and kazoo player Jono El Grande is like candy to fans of Frank Zappa and whimsical, progressive rock. In his 10 years of playing with The Luxury Band (née The Jono El Grande Orchestra), he has released four albums, including the multi-layered Neo-Dada in 2009 and the raucous Phantom Stimulance this winter.

Though he has enjoyed success in his native Norway, Jono’s delightfully eccentric music isn’t yet as well known overseas. Here he opens up about composing, why there’s no such thing as a “live favorite,” and how songs can take more than a decade to record.

According to your label, only one song on your newest record, Phantom Stimulance, is newly composed, with the rest being unreleased live favorites, compiled to commemorate your 10 years as a bandleader and 15 as a composer. Why did you decide to record these songs to celebrate this occasion?

There are two brand-new compositions on the album, not one — “Borrelia Boogie” and “Rise Of The Baseless Press-Base Toy.” The other songs are completely rearranged versions of songs that never reached an album and new arrangements of earlier-released songs that have evolved so much on stage during the years that they deserved to be released again, with new titles. “Live favorites” is a term that the record company came up with. Even if this record is presented as an anniversary, it is nevertheless the music that is most important. Always.

Why hadn’t the songs on Phantom Stimulance been recorded previously? Were they more suited to live performance than the studio? Are there any live favorites still yet to be recorded?

I am a composer who likes to develop compositions over time at live shows by adding new themes and parts to them. My working process is very often like this: I write the basic scores at home, then the band rehearses the music, and then we play the material live and mold it until I feel that it is ready to be recorded. And I never know exactly when each song is ready. The reason why these tracks haven’t been recorded previously is that, on earlier albums, there were other compositions that I felt were more ready than ones on Phantom Stimulance. You may call them “live favorites” — to me these tunes were the hard ones, the ones that I had to work a little extra with to make them worthy to be immortalized on an album. We used 40 to 60 tracks on each song. “La Dolce Vidda” contains 10 drum tracks, I think.

It was actually quite the same with Neo-Dada. Some compositions there date back to the '90s. And to the last question: yes, there will be more “live favorites” to be released in the future. I just have to compose them first.

There were a lot of strings on Neo-Dada, but they seem to have disappeared on Phantom Stimulance, which instead features more hard-edged electric guitar. Is this because you composed the songs before Neo-Dada’s addition of strings? Do you plan to continue to use strings in future compositions?

To the first question: no. Actually, Neo-Dada was composed for a band without strings, but during the recording sessions, I felt that something was missing. I had never worked with strings before, and, suddenly, it was about time. I put the whole session on hold, went home and rewrote a lot of the piano parts for violins, viola, and cello, gathered a batch of string players, rehearsed, and then went back to the studio. I’m very happy for that extra effort. On Phantom Stimulance, I wanted a harder sound, so I chose to skip the strings in that occasion.

To the second question: yes, the strings will return, but not on the next album, which will be a collection of old electronic solo stuff, demos, audience tapes, and album leftovers. But you’ll hear the strings on the next [album] after that, which will be a large project with about 20 musicians.

Have you been writing any new compositions alongside the recording of Phantom Stimulance?

Yes, indeed. I compose every time that I have the possibility to do it, at home and elsewhere. I use my voice-memo app on my iPhone a lot, and then I develop the themes in Sibelius (a popular music-notation program).

The musicianship on your records is astounding. How did you form The Luxury Band? Is the lineup fixed or does the personnel change between albums?

The band was formed in spring of 2000, and it was the result of an art-rock-band idea that I’d tried to incorporate for years. The first time was with a group called Menü Bizarra, which held only three shows back in 1995; then with Grande Corpse in 1996, which only rehearsed and recorded some songs and never performed live; then with Vidunderlige Vidda (Wonderful Mountain Plateau) in 1997-'98, which actually reached some local success in Oslo.

In 1999, I composed mostly on a workstation synthesizer and performed solo. Some of this material was released on Utopian Dances. Then, in 2000, I formed The Jono El Grande Orchestra by starting with a saxophone player that I knew. I called a long list of musicians that he named as potential members until I found a batch that I thought was fit for the project. Every once in a while, some members have quit to get a steady job in a symphony orchestra or to focus on their own solo career. I recruit new musicians by recommendations from existing members.

You’ve previously stated some obvious influences on your music — Frank Zappa, King Crimson — but I was often reminded of Mr. Bungle and related bands upon hearing your work. Which contemporary artists inspire or interest you?

There are a few bands that I find interesting on the avant-garde scene today, like my Norwegian colleagues PING, elephant 9, and Phaedra, and Finnish [band] Alamailmaan Vasarat. Probably a few more, but I can’t remember them. As you assume, I occasionally listen to bands such as Mr. Bungle, Primus, Secret Chiefs 3, and Naked City, in addition to the avant-garde heroes of the '60s and '70s. Right now, I listen a lot to the bands of the Canterbury Scene and the original RIO [Rock in Opposition] bands.

In the early '90s, you were part of several temporary concept bands, like Black Satan and Pez Dispensers, which would only perform once. Do you still toy with band concepts or do you plan to only record as Jono El Grande?

Well, maybe Black Satan will resurrect in a new form someday; time will tell. But right now, I only plan the mentioned two releases as Jono El Grande, for 2011 and 2012.

You’re known for your idiosyncratic live shows. What role do you think live performance plays in a band’s identity?

I think too many musicians tend to look too predictable, and that matters whether you’re playing hip hop, jazz, rock, or any conventional genre. It would help a lot of bands that look uniformed to be a little smart with their stage identity. Yet an image must be built from an authentic artistic idea, and your visual appearance should be an extension of that. In some occasions, the natural extension is just a little distinction, or being, like you say, idiosyncratic.

Seven That Spells: "Olympos"

Croatian space-rock outfit Seven That Spells deals in extended psychedelic guitar freak-outs in the vein of Magma, Circle, Zappa, Trans Am, or Hawkwind. Perhaps its biggest musical influence, however, is Kawabata Makoto, who appears on the 2007 album Men From Dystopia. Founder and guitarist Niko Potočnjak modeled his collective after Makoto’s Acid Mothers Temple; lineups are transient, albums sound raw and live, and though recorded material is certainly released, the band lives for the performance.

The following Q&A was conducted with Potočnjak. He is extremely passionate about the music that his band creates, preferring danger and experimentation over consistency. The most telling quote from his dialogue demonstrates a singular philosophy that eschews genre: “We play music.”

How do you describe your music?

Psychedelic rock for the 23rd Century. New old religion of super loud! Polymetrics and occasional Viking funeral rites.

Can you give us a history of the band?

STS was formed in 2003. The main purpose was to have fun and play rock. Eight years, 60 people, and nine albums later, the purpose remains the same. We believe in the power and sincerity of rock music. I say “we” because STS is a collective — I just happen to be a guy with good organizational skills and a strong vision.

What is the current lineup?

Niko Potočnjak – guitar

Stanislav Muškinja – drums

Jeremy White – bass

When did you realize that you wanted to be a musician?

Very early in life — when I saw how easy it was for guys with acoustic guitars (at some parties) to get lots of chicks.

How did you get from that realization to Seven That Spells? Previous bands? Formal training or school?

I was always an improv musician — I never learned other band’s songs. But I practiced a lot and had some formal training — some basic jazz lessons. Prior to STS, I didn’t have a band, but I jammed and smoked lots of pot, which is pretty self-explanatory. In the ’90s, I got hooked on the Japanese underground scene — Ruins, early Boredoms, Fushitsusha — intense stuff like that. I wasn’t into psych rock at that time. After I saw my first Acid Mothers Temple concert in 2001 and my head exploded, I decided that I wanted to form a psych-rock band. The rest is history.

Your albums sound very live. I imagine that the process varies from album to album, but what is your preferred way of capturing the band?

Albums don’t mean much to me; we are primarily a live band. The preferred way is to play and record everything in one take — get the live energy and save lots of money in the studio.

How much recorded material are you sitting on?

Actually, not so much. Only one album remains as a remnant from the past that needs to be published: Superautobahn. It should be out at the end of 2011. We are currently recording a trilogy of albums entitled Death and Resurrection of Krautrock. Really excited about it!!!

I played Future Retro Spasm for a friend, and he labeled Seven That Spells a jam band. I don’t agree with him, but I can certainly see his point. What do you think of the label?

Well, on some STS albums, that label holds some truth, but in my opinion, we are not a jam band. We have too many influences — metal, jazz, psych rock — and we want to play modern rock music and not lazy psychedelic stuff. But labels are not important — we play music.

How do you write songs? Are songs brought in by individuals, or are they worked out through collective rehearsals?

Some stuff is impromptu; the other more-complicated arrangements are rehearsed. But the riff is still the main point around which we produce songs. Everyone is involved in the creative process.

What was your favorite show of 2010?

Secret Chiefs 3. They blew me away!!!

You churn through musicians. Over 50 have been in the band since you started it. You also don’t seem to have many connections with the Croatian music scene. Do you worry about burning bridges?

Ha ha! NEVER! STS is a bridge burner. I am a rock musician and will always tell people what I think of them, their opinions, and their bands — usually with bad results, but I don’t care. I never get offended if someone says bad things about STS. Everybody has the right to an opinion. But lots of folks are oversensitive and egomaniacal these days. Eh…

Do you have any side projects outside of Seven That Spells?

No time for that. STS is more than enough for me.

What musicians or bands would you like to collaborate with in the future?

Only the ones who share the same interests in life: food, alcohol, and women. Preferably in that order too!

What are some of your favorite bands? What other current bands should we paying more attention to?

Psychic Paramount, Shora, White Hills

Outside of music, who are your idols?

No idols. No hope. No destiny. Only enjoying life without the help of gods or idols of any kind.

Any chance of a US tour?

Yes — when the time is right. Hopefully 2013. In 2012, we tour Japan.

What plans do you have for 2011?

European tours, lots of new recordings, world domination, and lots of good food and alcohol.

Download the podcast for This Week’s Best Albums: February 1, 2011 and subscribe to This Week’s Best Albums for free with iTunes.

Stream the podcast for This Week's Best Albums: February 1, 2011.
This Week\'s Best Albums: February 1, 2011

Carla Kihlstedt & Matthias Bossi: Still You Lay Dreaming – Tales for the Stage, II

Carla Kihlstedt & Matthias Bossi: "The Gyre"

Carla Kihlstedt & Matthias Bossi: "Wandering Secret"

Carla Kihlstedt and Matthias Bossi are two adventurous members of avant-metal band Sleepytime Gorilla Museum; each is involved in a plethora of projects, including Tin Hat (Trio), The Book of Knots, 2 Foot Yard, and Skeleton Key.  With Sleepytime bandmate Dan Rathbun, the two released an album a few years ago called Ravish, consisting of scores for dance and theater companies, and now the couple has self-released a sequel of sorts, called Still You Lay Dreaming — a download-only collection of tracks that were written for the Deborah Slater Dance Theater’s production of Men Think They Are Better Than Grass.

The music, though not as massively far-reaching as each musician’s career, is an eclectic assortment of unorthodox instruments, unusual melodies, and dynamic vocals.  Kihlstedt’s usual vocal power leads the way on half of the tracks, but her superlative violin skills take a back seat to duo’s “closet arsenal” of bass harmonica, pump organ, bathtub percussion, flour sifter, and other oddities.

A general compositional diversity – in addition to distorted, pitch-shifted, and reverberated instruments and vocals – makes the collection a wonderful listen from start to finish.  Fans of the duo’s previous work won’t want to miss it either, as there’s little that resembles what has come before.

V/A: Generation Bass Presents Transnational Dubstep (Six Degrees)

Fleck & Fish Finger: “Rude Profile” (Pan Agnostix flamenco-step version)

Featuring 15 world-infused dubstep tunes, Generation Bass Presents Transnational Dubstep is a journey around the globe as filtered through the pulsing beats and whirring, mechanical sounds of a dance subgenre that continues to flourish.  Compiled by the co-founders and editors of the dance-music blog Generation Bass, in conjunction with Six Degrees Records, it’s a continent-hopping collection of thumping grooves alongside sounds from India, the Middle East, Asia, Europe, South America, and more.

The majority of the tracks, at some point, adhere to the key dubstep directive – blown-out bass lines in triplets – but they often begin or build in very un-dubstep ways.  This is best experienced on tracks such as “Kaliyuga,” which takes a sweeping string melody – possibly from a sarangi – and coalesces it around, sitar, veena, tabla, and a dirty synth line before a wobbling bass line and hip-hop beats break it down.  It’s one of the comp’s best tracks and a great fusion between East and West.

Jono El Grande: Phantom Stimulance (Rune Grammofon)

Jono El Grande: "Borrelia Boogie"

Known musically as Jono El Grande, Norwegian guitarist/composer Jon Andreas Håtun uses his nom de plume to combine theatrical, progressive, classical, jazz, and absurdist styles for performance-art and dada-inspired live shows.  Though you’ll find this on his Wikipedia entry, his music might be best described as a mix between his confessed influences: Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, King Crimson, and Igor Stravinsky.

Following his outstanding and eclectic release Neo Dada in 2009, Jono has now released a collection of re-recorded stage songs and unreleased material.  It picks up where Neo Dada left oft, with fanciful, melodic meanderings that can sound like an acid-soaked version of countrymen Jaga Jazzist – only with strange, often nonsensical vocals in the mix.  Named Phantom Stimulance, the collection is a synchronized mélange of guitar, xylophone, harpsichord, organ, synthesizer, horns, singing saw, and more.

Buck 65: 20 Odd Years (Warner Music Canada)

Buck 65: "Who By Fire"

Last year, Canadian hip-hop artist Buck 65 released a series of digital mini-albums to commemorate 20 years of creating music.  Despite his recent connection to Warner Music, he’s always had an unusual and avant-garde style of rapping and lyricism, collaborating with a host of great artists with independent roots that include Sage Francis, Feist, Tanya Tagaq, Boom Bip, John Herndon of Tortoise, and more.

20 Odd Years is made in that daring, collaborative spirit, with a number of vocal and instrumental guests who take the music in copious directions.  Over the course of 13 tracks – four unreleased and the rest from the mini-albums – it moves through acoustic folk hop, piano-laced trip hop, synth rock, western cinematics, French pop, Eastern-tinged string melodies, and vocal balladry.  It’s often both dramatic and delicate – usually thanks the dynamic guest vocalists – but it also has a little fun, notably with a song about zombies. Ultimately, 20 Odd Years might be the best and most adventurous collection that Buck 65 has created.

Honorable Mentions

Abysmal Dawn: Leveling the Plane of Existence (Relapse)

Arthur's Landing: s/t (Strut)

Tommy Guerrero: Lifeboats and Follies (Galaxia)

Kotchy: Two (Done Right)

Fela Kuti: Vinyl Box Set 1, Compiled by ?uestlove of The Roots (Knitting Factory)

Noisear: Subvert the Dominant Paradigm (Relapse)

Rot in Hell: As Pearls Before Swine (Deathwish)

Seefeel: s/t (Warp)