Under a blanket made out of soft light, I receive Odd Narrative’s “Parks” like the chosen one I so clearly am. How else am I to approach this duo’s work, this collaboration between Koma Elektronik’s Wouter Jaspers and Hainbach? Am I supposed to ignore it, let it do its thing, and move on to some other expectant sucker? No! I’ll shoulder my delightful burden like a Marvel superhero (NOT DC!), though willingly, not all, “I don’t want this burden, but if I have to…” I’m nothing if not enthusiastic about “Parks.”
And if you’re not … why not? Seriously, that’s a question I really have to ask. Because there’s no situation in life where “Parks” becomes an unwanted object. Its composers use a variety of sources to craft their work – “vocal sampling, field recordings, tape loops, contact mics, voltage-driven motors, washes of gorgeous synth pads, … radio transmissions, and much, much more” (yeah, I can read onesheets) – and that very “playfulness” that Jaspers and Hainbach embrace filters through into the process and the results. Yeah, this is ambient music – it’s on Muzan Editions after all – but it’s SO MUCH MORE than ambient music. It’s a cerebral journey of complex adventure, yet smooth and gently beveled like this pebble that I’m about to fling over the surface of the river and hope for multiple skips before it sinks.
Nope, giant plop. I’m not great at stone skipping.
But Jaspers and Hainbach are great at this, great at being Odd Narrative, great at making “Parks” and hopefully other things. You can be a hero too, a chosen one blanketed by the sweet events that unfold herein. All you have to do is buy one of these tapes (edition of 100). But there are only fourteen left as of this writing…
I’m a Pennsylvania transplant living in Florida, and I gotta be honest with you – Maine is one of the most gorgeous places in the world. My friends who’ve lived there won’t tell you that – they’ve all drifted to other parts of the country, turning their backs on the rural environments of their youths, decrying it as “backward” or “redneck” or whatever. I don’t get that. I’ve never felt more welcomed to a place than when I’ve passed through Waterville or Portland (not rural, I get it). Way more welcomed than a place like, say, randomly, Delaware. Yuck.
Flower Room, the tape (and sometimes, ahem, record) label seems like good people too, and though I’ve never been to Brunswick, I’ll have to make it a point to get there someday. Because the showrunners seem to be pretty specific about their welcoming attitude, generously presented to anybody from anywhere, and as such I feel like it’s important to shine a light on that behavior and hold it up as an example of how we should all act. It’s not easy, I’ll admit; but you’ve just gotta embrace it when you encounter it, especially during these days of barely (and not so) contained rage. Here, have a little descriptive copy, courtesy of the label itself, to get you in the benevolent mood that you need to be in: “Exploration & Discoveries in Improvisation & Harmonization ☄ Virtual rurality experiences, sonic sage cleansing, and hymns to manifest a more harmonious You-We-All ☤ Welcome.”
You guys hear that? “You-We-All ☤ Welcome.” I think I’m gonna like these Flower Room people. Let’s see what they’ve got for us, shall we?
STARBIRTHED – Chakra Three / Starbirthed / Messages From…
Three tapes from Starbirthed, the duo of Ash Brooks and ML Wah, and it seems like maybe this is the flagship recording moniker for Flower Room. I’m not 100 percent here, as the “About” section of the Flower Room website is emblazoned with “Coming Soon,” but there’s also a photograph of two people who may or may not be Ash and ML. I’m gonna guess that they are those people. Prove me wrong! Next, we must point out that all six of the beautiful tapes that arrived in the mail are presented in a “wraparound full-color tip-on cover in a clear polybox.” Just stunning work. “Chakra Three” is a guided meditation, two tracks, one on each side, in “yellow jasper gemstone to aid in balancing the third chakra (Solar Plexus / Will center).” I don’t know what that means, but I’m along for the ride here! “Starbirthed” also happens to be the duo’s vinyl debut, but we don’t talk about that here. The tape is a “deep-space violet semi-translucent shell,” also with the wraparound tip-on treatment. This, like “Messages From…” (green and black cover, silver cassette shell), is the very definition of cosmic, way-out zones, deep-space transmissions from star hearts and galactic centers and civilizations waaaay more advanced than we are. Makes me feel small. I kind of like it that way, keeps me centered, focused.
THICK AIR – Concert for Malakut
Thick Air conjures actual thick air indeed, as the one-person drone machine (and “French-Canadian mystic and scholar”) Arman de Chardin plies his polyphonic synthesizer to reach out spiritually to Malakut, or “Realm of Dominion,” which in “Islamic cosmology [contains] several metaphysical beings and places in Islamic lore, like angels, demons, jinn, hell, and the seven heavens.” Thanks, Wikipedia, for the assist! This “Islam” sounds more and more like Christianity the more I read about it. Weird. Anyhoo, Although the two pieces, “Astral Audience” and “Clairaudience,” were performed live at Green Lodge in Matra Point, Maine, de Chardin is truly trying to transcend these earthly shackles by reaching toward the spiritual and the infinite. And it’s true, as Flower Room suggests, that “Concert for Malakut” is a “complete out-of-body listening experience,” a transcended batch of tones that shift us ever closer to the divine. But not too close – we couldn’t survive, like, even a little bit if we came into the presence of the divine! Just imagine.
ASH BROOKS – Crown of Thyme
Starbirthed’s (and MAYBE Flower Room’s [see above]) Ash Brooks steps out on her own here on “Crown of Thyme,” her solo debut. Unlike the other releases we’ve already gone through, “Crown of Thyme” is an earthly mythology, a freak-folk concoction for people who spell “fairy” as “faerie” and “magick” with a “k” and participate in complicated forest rituals. Based around autoharp and voice (with some acoustic guitar thrown in here and there and an assist from ML Wah on loops, sitar, whatever the hell a “mijwiz” is, 10-string acoustic guitar, and percussion), “Crown of Thyme” is a heady mix of cosmic drone, outsider folk, and pagan ceremony. As intense as it is fascinating, Brooks’s work stands alone and apart from her work in Starbirthed, and on equal footing. I’m totally tripped out on it right now. Oh! Also, “moss agate gemstone package,” “transparent emerald cassette shell, hand-stamped in gold ink on both sides.”
MATT LAJOIE – Free to Be…
Sticking around in the acoustic spectrum of these soundtracks for astral projection, we have Matt LaJoie’s (NOT Matt LeBlanc – don’t make the same mistake I did) “Free to Be…,” a delightfully introspective yet imaginative acoustic guitar record. That’s right, just Matt and his “hybrid nylon/steel string” axe reading each other’s vibe and improvising delightful and patient trifles over the course of two Maine winter days. How can I describe what you’ll hear over the two sides of “Free to Be…”? How about simply using the first track’s title: “Meeting a Guide on the Sands of Time.” Mysterious, cosmic, ancient, full of meaning. (There’s also a track called “Delivering Mangoes,” but I’m not describing a Jimmy Buffett record, am I?) LaJoie’s a perfect foil to everything we’ve heard so far, a little more down to earth, a little more introspective. We’ll take that.
TONAL COSMOLOGY – In the Key of I
OK, now this is getting ridiculous. Tonal Cosmology is Ash Brooks and Matt LaJoie – is Flower Room just like this big inbred musical enterprise? I guess that’s OK if it is. More mind-melding that way, I imagine. Everybody on the same page. Here we’re introduced to the Tonal Cosmology “system,” whereby you’ll have the “opportunity to hear and become acquainted with your own Cosmic Chord.” This “astromusical system for reading and hearing the harmony of the spheres” is applied in this instance to “two major planetary transits,” and each “automatic composition” is “based on the ‘Cosmic Chord’ derived from the TC system’s music theory for those transits.” *Shakes head to clear it* That’s a lot of quotations! I mean, how the heck am I supposed to paraphrase that? Let’s just call these two long-form drones what they are: exquisite otherworldly compositions shimmering in the psychic darkness of deep space. “The Key of I” is ethereal bliss. Is this supposed to be emanating from myself?
I wish I was Adrian Knight. I mean, not even a little bit – I WANT to be him, like BE HIM be him. That unflinching coolness is something to aspire to, and no reviewer worth their salt would ever omit the term “smooth operator” in a write up of one of his albums. I wanted to get that out of the way so you know I’m serious. I’m not joking in any way at all. I want to – no, I MUST attain a modicum of that lifestyle in order to truly feel like I’m a complete version of myself.
But to dismiss Knight’s laid-back cocktail funk as a put-on, as some kind of nu-yacht rock is a little disingenuous. This isn’t the Swedish expat’s first rodeo, as he’s got a couple other releases on Galtta, both of the solo variety and as part of Blue Jazz TV, and elsewhere, as part of Private Elevators and Synthetic Love Dream Ensemble. He’s an unstoppable force of dreamy, self-reflective and utterly streamlined songwriting, and he continues to hone his craft into amazing disco-pop-funk reveries. Kind of like if fellow countryman Jens Lekman ended up fronting a live vaporwave band, or something along those lines. That’s not even close to a perfect description. But it sure sounds fun!
“Vacation Man” will convince you that you need a permanent holiday from everyday business life, as if the boardrooms and the corner offices don’t hold the secrets to success that you once dreamed of. I feel this way too – I’m with you guys. But even though this is exactly the kind of situation the music of “Vacation Man” seems to shove into your imagination, it’s actually – and, shhh, it might be a secret – kind of a condemnation of it. See, the title track itself even goes “Stand down, Vacation Man, no one can save you now” on its chorus. Whaddayou mean by that?! Does that mean that every hope sprung forth by Adrian Knight here, every desire, is just a wisp of nothingness that’ll leave me hollow inside?
I don’t know what to think – I don’t even know who I am anymore.
No, wait – I’ll just press play on “Vacation Man,” then I’ll feel good about myself again. Well, until I realize what the lyrics are telling me, that is. Get your own copy (of 125) from Galtta!
By now we know Tingo Tongo Tapes as the upstarts, the disruptors, the game-changers in this underground world of outsider music. Mike even took some heavy stock in them at one point. But TTT is nothing if not a fun bunch, and you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get with any one of their releases. That’s the exciting part – what’s gonna happen next? What fringe act are they gonna rip to tape before said fringe act disappears back into the ether? Are they gonna print the cover art upside down on the jcard? Are they gonna get the track order right?
The answers to all four questions are, we’ll find out here, JRM, yes, no. TTT today stands for Tingo Tongo techno, as shadow act JRM deals in propulsive longform microhouse on “Clock,” a charming full-length release and one of my favorites that the label has released. Over the course of an hour, the shady shaman serves up what SHOULD be a batch of electronic standards, dark club classics that pulse through PAs and seep into your bones, causing you to wiggle and jiggle, but in like a blacklit, robotic, German way. I don’t know what that means either, but I do know it’s a lot of fun. And I’m the kind of person who goes to bed at 10 p.m. and STAYS THE HELL AWAY FROM ANY CLUBS.
Kids these days.
You can buy JRM’s “Clock” from Tingo Tongo Tapes, but only by emailing them! Have at it: tingotongotapes at gmail dot com. I don’t know how many they’ve got left, it’s all a friggin’ mystery.
Gosh, if I didn’t know that Larry Wish ran Bumpy out of Minneapolis, I’d be all like, yuck, Larry Wish and Bumpy have their hands all over each other’s business. It’s gross. But since they’re essentially the same entity, we can let it slide this time, instead pretending those hands are waving in front of our faces and leaving chemtrails because I think we’re tripping hard off “-Ning Bugs.” This is so disorienting – I wanna get comfortable and slip into this tape; I want it to caress my every pop fantasy and nourish me like a candy bar. But no – it’s making me think!
Also caressing my every pop fantasy too, I guess. Just in a cockeyed fashion that I wasn’t necessarily expecting.
Larry Wish recorded “-Ning Bugs” (slang for hounds, not some sort of Fraggle creature that lost its “Light”) in 2012, and here we are in 2019 with its delightful new physical presence in reissued and (finally) mastered form. It’s like it’s never been gone, like it hasn’t been seven whole years since its kaleidoscopic and off-kilter melodies graced our ears. Not that we should be upset or anything – Larry Wish certainly has kept us sated for Larry Wish–related musicality, and pretty much everything he touches could be described with “kaleidoscopic” and “off-kilter melody,” like he were fronting the Electric Mayhem as they melted under a heat lamp.
“-Ning Bugs” teeters on the edge of naïveté, but as Larry describes it, it’s a knowing naïveté, like you’re aware that you don’t really have a grasp on anything. While that might sound bleak – and this is the kind of dead-of-winter philosophizing you might expect in January or February in Minnesota – it’s actually quite freeing: there’s a lot that you can embrace and experience with that worldview. And Larry Wish – whose real name is Adam Werven (what?!?) – flits back and forth among the blooming flowers he’s imagining and painting his sonic canvas with vivid, celebratory colors. He even covers Stone Temple Pilots. I dunno man, when you’re in the right mood, you can do whatever you want.
So wave those hands in front of your frickin face till you’re all wobbly, then embrace the technicolor weirdness of “-Ning Bugs” in all its resonant glory. There are 100 of these suckers just waiting to be purchased.
