November 2013 – Page 3

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Mississippi John Hurt

Flash way, way back to February 14^th, 1928: John Hurt, soon to be better known as Mississippi John Hurt, recorded a two-track 78 rpm in Memphis. The songs, the first two Hurt ever recorded, were “Frankie” and “Nobody’s Dirty Business,” and they won Hurt an invitation to come record in New York City. Hurt was a sharecropper who’d taught himself to play guitar when he was nine years old, and played for barn dances in his neighborhood, though he’d never made money off the instrument.

Hurt had opinions about the way the guitar should be played—his melody-heavy, understated method and sparse vocals resembled no other blues musician playing at the time. “Frankie,” side A of his 1928 release, was a subdued and uncommonly mournful take on the classic New Orleans murder ballad “Frankie and Johnny.” “Nobody’s Dirty Business,” side B, had been recorded for the first time only about ten years prior, by Bert Williams. Hurt changed the lyrics, once again downplaying the rambling, gambling, wheeling and dealing party music that often accompanied popular songs. Hurt’s versions tended to be more somber and introspective, though the guitar line stayed danceable and syncopated—Hurt played the blues, after all.

The recordings Hurt put out in the twenties and thirties were largely commercial failures, and he returned to his labor job. Forty years later, after “Frankie” was included on a collection of old-time Americana songs put out by Smithsonian Folkways in 1962. Around the same time, a Virginian ethnomusicologist by the name of Tom Hoskins decided to make it his mission to find Mississippi John Hurt, whose old recordings were enjoying a renaissance after the Smithsonian Folkways release. Allegedly, Hoskins found Hurt’s hometown by chancing a trip to Avalon, Mississippi after Hurt’s “Avalon Blues.”

Hurt died four years later, in 1966, but the last era of his life saw dramatic change. Hoskins arranged for Hurt to record and perform voraciously, and his career rose rapidly to extraordinary acclaim. The blues movement was making a comeback, and Mississippi John Hurt was its forerunner.

Like Lomax, like the Seegers, like John Cohen, Hoskins assumed the role of cultivating and editing Mississippi John Hurt’s work. Even the term “rediscovery,” commonly applied to Hurt’s rise to fame, implies ownership and—albeit well-intentioned—bigotry. Hurt’s image remains a mystery, co-opted and shaped by a curator. Without Hoskins, though, Hurt would certainly have died lost to listeners outside of Mississippi.

Listen to “Nobody’s Dirty Business” below:

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: ’90s One Hit Genres

Every decade has its short-lived fads, and music genres can often be just that—trends that soon decline into little more than effigies of cheesy stereotypes. The 1990’s had no shortage of these one-hit-wonder genres, which reached massive heights only to be supplanted by other genres du jour before Y2K. So, for a true flashback, here’s a smattering of ’90s-defining genres and the songs that still bring pigtails, slap bracelets, and Doc Martens to mind.

Big Beat

When you imagine a typical ‘90s rave, you probably picture strobe lights flashing, skinny girls in baby blue crop tops dancing awkwardly, and some big beat playing in the background. Big beat had its start in the underground scene, emerging from the “acid house” movement of the late ‘80s; but the genre quickly came to dominate pretty much every dancefloor in the ‘90s. It had mass appeal, fusing the sample-heavy aspects of hip-hop with techno synthiness and pop conventionality. Eventually, the catchy and upbeat sounds of DJs like Fatboy Slim and Lionrock would become cheesy and tiresome, appearing in every movie with a club or action scene, and by the time the new millennium rolled around, the entire scene had pretty much died out. But I, for one, still walk into clubs hoping someone will play a little Basement Jaxx.

Third-wave Ska

The history of ska can be divided into three individual periods: the first wave, which encompasses the original scene that was born in Jamaica in the ‘50s and includes bands like The Skatalites, the second wave, or 2 Tone, which was popular in the UK in the ‘70s and incorporated elements of punk to create bands like The Specials, and the third wave, which became a staple sound of the ‘90s in the U.S. This ska revival would spawn bands like Dance Hall Crashers and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, which had their 15 minutes of fame at the peak of ‘90s ska popularity (say, 1996 or so), while other ska-punk outfits, such as Sublime and No Doubt, would achieve a little more long-term gravitas.

Grunge

Yep, the quintessentially ‘90s genre that is renowned for its flannel-wearing, greasy-haired poster boy, Kurt Cobain, but Nirvana’s enduring mainstream success doesn’t detract from the simple fact that grunge and its surrounding culture is unequivocally tethered to this one decade. The angsty lovechild of punk and metal, grunge was actually born in the late ‘80s as a very localized scene in Seattle. Bands like Tad, Green River, and Soundgarden were staples of the underground movement until the early ‘90s, when the genre very quickly became a nationwide fad and subsequently lost its authenticity and alternative appeal. By the mid-‘90s, grunge had sunken into itself—in true rock ’n roll fashion, the genre lived fast and died young.

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Flashback Friday: Chilean Nueva Cancion

When people think about protest music, they usually think of 1960s folk revival in the United States. In the 1960s and 1970s Chile experienced a similar folk revival which resulted in a genre called nueva canción. Nueva canción took aspects of pre-Colombian folk music from the Andean region of South America and introduced lyrics from the cities. The Musicians, intellectuals and leftists congregated in peñas, or coffee shops, where music and politics melded together.

Chilean nueva canción developed a leftist connotation. As nueva canción drew from the traditions of the countryside, musicians fought to support the rural working class. Indeed, Chilean nueva canción was so politically powerful that it helped to get Salvador Allende elected. Salvador embraced the music so much that his campaign slogan became “you can’t have a revolution without songs.” Unfortunately Augusto Pinochet ousted Allende in a bloody military coup where he tortured, killed, and exiled folk musicians. In this segment of Flashback Friday I want to highlight two key musicians that helped to form nueva canción, Violeta Parra and Victor Jara.

Violeta Parra is credited as the founder of Chilean nueva canción. She was a folk singer, ethnomusicologist and founder of Peña de los Parra, a cafe in Santiago where students, intellectuals and musicians met to perform rural folk songs and share political ideas.The concept of nueva canción, like that of Chilean leftism, was to give a voice to the rural workers in the mines and the farms of the countryside. Parra was a huge player in importing the sentiments of rural life into the city, do to her extensive travels throughout the countryside where she discovered rural folk music. After learning from the campesinos, she returned to Santiago where she fused pastoral rhythms and instruments with urban lyrics. You can hear her unique musical style in one of my favorite recordings, “Que He Sacado Con Quererte” . Here she is playing a bombo drum, a traditional Andean instrument.

Victor Jara took the folk music of nueva canción and gave it an even more distinct political overtone. Jara sang at Peña de los Parra and became involved in Salvador Allende’s presidential campaign. He publicly supported Allende by giving free concerts on his behalf. Unfortunately, during the political coup on September 11, 1973, Victor Jara was arrested and detained at El Estadio in Santiago. He was held with other political prisoners and repeatedly tortured until he was finally shot by a member of the Chilean army. In his final days in Estadio Chile, Jara wrote a song without music about his experience as a prisoner. He handed it to a fellow prisoner shortly before he was taken away. A number of fellow prisoners memorized it to make sure that the song wouldn’t die with Jara.

Estadio Chile

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Somos cinco mil aquí

en esta pequeña parte la ciudad.

Somos cinco mil.

¿Cuántos somos en total

en las ciudades y en todo el país?

Sólo aquí,

diez mil manos que siembran

y hacen andar las fábricas.

Cuánta humanidad

con hambre, frío, pánico, dolor,

presión moral, terror y locura.

Seis de los nuestros se perdieron

en el espacio de las estrellas.

Uno muerto, un golpeado como jamás creí

se podría golpear a un ser humano.

Los otros cuatro quisieron quitarse

todos los temores,

uno saltando al vacío,

otro golpeándose la cabeza contra un muro

pero todos con la mirada fija en la muerte.

¡Qué espanto produce el rostro del fascismo!

Llevan a cabo sus planes con precisión artera

sin importarles nada.

La sangre para ellos son medallas.

La matanza es un acto de heroísmo.

¿Es este el mundo que creaste, Dios mío?

¿Para esto tus siete días de asombro y de trabajo?

En estas cuatro murallas sólo existe un número

que no progresa.

Que lentamente querrá más la muerte.

Pero de pronto me golpea la consciencia

y veo esta marea sin latido

y veo el pulso de las máquinas

y los militares mostrando su rostro de matrona

llena de dulzura.

¿Y México, Cuba y el mundo?

¡Qué griten esta ignominia!

Somos diez mil manos

menos que no producen.

¿Cuántos somos en toda la patria?

La sangre del compañero Presidente

golpea más fuerte que bombas y metrallas.

Así golpeará nuestro puño nuevamente.

Canto, qué mal me sabes

cuando tengo que cantar espanto.

Espanto como el que vivo

como el que muero, espanto.

De verme entre tantos y tantos

momentos de infinito

en que el silencio y el grito

son las metas de este canto.

Lo que veo nunca vi.

Lo que he sentido y lo que siento

harán brotar el momento…

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There are five thousand of us here

in this small part of the city.

We are five thousand.

I wonder how many we are in all

in the cities and in the whole country?

Here alone

are ten thousand hands which plant seeds

and make the factories run.

How much humanity

exposed to hunger, cold, panic, pain,

moral pressure, terror and insanity?

Six of us were lost

as if into starry space.

One dead, another beaten as I could never have believed

a human being could be beaten.

The other four wanted to end their terror

one jumping into nothingness,

another beating his head against a wall,

but all with the fixed stare of death.

What horror the face of fascism creates!

They carry out their plans with knife-like precision.

Nothing matters to them.

To them, blood equals medals,

slaughter is an act of heroism.

Oh God, is this the world that you created,

for this your seven days of wonder and work?

Within these four walls only a number exists

which does not progress,

which slowly will wish more and more for death.

But suddenly my conscience awakes

and I see that this tide has no heartbeat,

only the pulse of machines

and the military showing their midwives’ faces

full of sweetness.

Let Mexico, Cuba and the world

cry out against this atrocity!

We are ten thousand hands

which can produce nothing.

How many of us in the whole country?

The blood of our President, our compañero,

will strike with more strength than bombs and machine guns!

So will our fist strike again!

How hard it is to sing

when I must sing of horror.

Horror which I am living,

horror which I am dying.

To see myself among so much

and so many moments of infinity

in which silence and screams

are the end of my song.

What I see, I have never seen

What I have felt and what I feel

Will give birth to the moment

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While Violeta Parra and Victor Jara are the key players, Chilean nueva canción included countless musicians who risked their personal safety for their music and political beliefs. Nueva canción was an artistic, political and cultural movement and is still recognized in Chile as the pre-colombian folk revival.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: “The Big Come Up”

Ending your band’s debut album with a 23-minute hidden track is a bold move, but then again, The Black Keys have always been pretty bold in their bluegrass/garage rock. Years before they were selling out tours throughout the country, Akron, Ohio natives Dan Auerbach (guitar/vocals) and Patrick Carney (drums) were jamming in their basement, penning tracks that would soon become their first DIY full-length, The Big Come Up (2002). Auerbach and Carney had sent a demo to several record companies, eventually securing the support of Alive, an indie label in California that didn’t even require the duo to perform for them.

The boys’ DIY roots extend to their sound. The songs on this album are much more raw than the polished versions of the duo’s latest albums, but that lends the early tracks something special and nostalgic. Although it consists of only a few original songs written by the bandmates (who began their friendship in middle school), those original songs exude a unique roughness that is rarely found anymore. They rock their guitars and drums, but they take their time as they make their way through each track.

However, the covers themselves shouldn’t be taken for granted, as they so perfectly convey the band’s style. Their take on The Beatles’ “She Said, She Said” turns the light, airy feel of the original and adds heavier rock, turning up the guitars and thus incorporating another layer of passion to the track. On “Leavin’ Trunk,” Auerbach and Carney flair up the blues standard with their own interpretation.

The part original composition, part cover album didn’t initially gain the pair many followers outside of Ohio, but it did manage to attract the attention of Fat Possum Records, which produced several of their subsequent albums. The garage rock band had something different to offer in the early millennium, and eventually people took notice. Their single, “I’ll Be Your Man,” one of the best from the album, later received much recognition, including use as the theme song for HBO’s “Hung.”

Throughout several albums after The Big Come Up, The Black Keys refined their style and slowly weaned themselves off of covers, to produce fresh music of their own. While they’ve released chart-topping albums since their beginning, their roots of blues rock will always be a part of their sound and image. The Big Come Up not only started it all, but also influenced it all.

Listen to “I’ll be your man”, here, via Youtube:

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: M.I.A. – Kala

Everyone in the entire world has heard “Paper Planes” and is fully acquainted with M.I.A (a.k.a. Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam). She has claimed that guerrilla art is a huge influence on her style, and her musical influences range from Madonna and Bjork to the Clash and Public Enemy. The result of these far-ranging inspirations is more of a mélange of jumbled sounds and lyrics. However, there’s something that glues you to your headphones, anticipating the next mishmash of whatever soundboard M.I.A. decided to use that day. Her talent is evident in the leap to fame that produced her critically acclaimed second album, Kala, and various awards and nominations.

M.I.A. was born in London in 1975 but raised in Sri Lanka. The Sri Lankan Civil War was taking place, which caused much disruption and confusion in her world. Her political activist father was, as a result, often away from home, creating displacement in M.I.A.’s life. Her family eventually moved back to London where she attended art school. There she found her voice through film production, fashion and painting. She was soon showing art in galleries and having big name directors asking her to work with them. Her roommate convinced her to start recording music, and she did so on a 4-track tape machine, a groovebox, and a radio microphone. She came up with a 6-song demo which included “Galang”, a hit from her debut album Arular. Thanks to the popularity of Napster and other music-sharing programs, M.I.A. quickly became known before the album was even released. Once it was, it garnered critical acclaim and ended up on many Top 10 lists at the end of 2005.

And then there was 2007’s Kala, M.I.A.’s pièce de résistance. An amalgam of dance and world music, Kala included significantly more diverse instrumentation than previous work: traditional folk music from various countries, live instruments, and music snippets from bootlegged Indian films. She teamed up with producers Timbaland and Diplo, stars in their own right, along with Switch, her faithful co-producer. The opener “Bamboo Banga” showcases M.I.A.’s signature chanting, sometimes bordering on shrieking. “Bird Flu”, hits you like a hive full of rabid bees. Or, more appropriately, a flock of crazed birdies. Her repetitive beats get stuck in your head and provide a medium in which you can really enter the frenzied mind of M.I.A. Her flat, droney vocals make sense of her music, especially on “20 Dollar”. The song “Paper Planes”, as mentioned before, is the seventh best-selling song by a British artist in the digital era. Considering most, if not all, of our music is digital, that’s an esteemed accolade to have.

The album Kala, although not terribly old, changed the way we experience music. M.I.A. pushed the boundaries of acceptability and etiquette by today’s standards. The fact that it came out in the digital age is so appropriate, especially for her style. Would an album like this have gone over as well in 1993? Do our attention spans, historically the shortest they have ever been, have something to do with that success? We jump from idea to idea, and so does M.I.A. with her sound. Still, there is always a concept that she’s pursuing in her songs. Sometimes her music may sound dissonant to the listener, but it always comes full circle at the end.

Watch M.I.A’s “Jimmy”, here, via Youtube.

LIVE REVIEW: Albert Hammond Jr.

If you’ve heard of The Strokes but not of Albert Hammond Jr., then there is something misguided here. He is The Strokes’ guitar player in addition to being a very friendly face. Just like the vital organs John Frusciante contributed to Red Hot Chili Peppers, Hammond must be treated with the same respect. Although he has made side projects since 2006, his popularity didn’t begin to spike until his sophomore album ¿Cómo Te Llama? in 2008. I’m always ecstatic to see solo artists leaving the stables, l and slowly gaining trend. Before kicking off his European tour, Hammond Jr. (not to be confused with his also-musician father), is making stops in the US, which so far have included Mexicali Live in Teaneck, NJ, and a sold out show at Webster. While I was bummed to have missed the opportunity to catch the latter, I foresaw that his show at Mexicali would be more intimate–proven to me when I met him after the set. You can say his sold out New York show was a blessing incognito.

Mexicali was at its finest- tables scattered a couple feet behind the stage area to accommodate (hip) parents, and people like me, wanting a hot wing or five before dancing our beers away. The stage area looks like my mom’s beautiful Christmas wreath, metamorphosing in color. Ireland’s five-piece, punk-dance Nightbox opened up, and their crazy energy electrified the crowd. I was standing behind two excited dancing blondes and their surrounding fans, all swaying to the synth and heavy drum beats. The intensity in the room was reaching fever-pitch, and Albert Hammond Jr. wasn’t even on yet.

Intermission was even superb. I found myself with an awesome view of the stage, listening to The Gaslight Anthem, Manchester Orchestra, and Weezer.

If there was one thing I learned, it is that Albert can shred. Well…yes…he is The Stroke’s guitarist and a Stratocaster wizard, but also a performer. Being the front man can prove to be troublesome, but he definitely proved his leadership. Although he didn’t play my personal favorite, “Bright Young Thing” off his Yours to Keep album, the band put together a tremendous set list. Not once was the crowd stagnant; everyone, including the two blondes, were jamming out. It was the perfect time to see him, as his new EP, AHJ, (off his buddy and band-mate Julian Casablanca’s Cult Records) came out last month. We heard old favorites like “In Transit,” “GfC,” “Back to the 101,” “Call and Ambulance,” “Holiday,” and “Hard to Live (in the City)” and new ones that we weren’t so familiar with yet, but bounced like we were. Hammond Jr. masters both guitar and keyboard, but last night was babysitting his signature white Strat. Even despite his throngs of adoring fans, he was still modest- pointing at us, responding to our quick quips, squeamish yells, and drunken yelps.

I must reiterate, that he has a friendly face. Constantly responding to tweets and Instagram posts, I dub him among the neighborly lot. After the show ended, he went right to the merch stand and actually talked to each oncoming fan.
I asked if they call him “Al” or “Bert.” He laughed, “Who’s they?” Come on Al, I know you have a lot of friends.

Listen to Albert Hammond Jr’s “Rude Customer”, off the new EP, here via Soundcloud:

EP REVIEW: Cold Beat “Worms/Year 5772”

Bassist Hannah Lew has released three albums with psychedlic indie rock trio Grass Widow since the band’s debut in 2009, all of them zany, DIY concoctions combining grungy post punk guitar riffs, softly billowing three-part harmony, and space aliens. Now, Lew brings this signature blend to her new band Cold Beat, whose first EP came out yesterday on its frontwoman’s own label, Crime on the Moon.

The themes of self-creation and the way towards creating one’s own reality loom large. This somewhat unimaginatively titled EP consists of two originals, “Worms” and “Year 5772”, followed up by a remix of each of those tracks. Familiar, simple rock and roll distortion coexists with futuristic electronic synth lines, and soft vocals that hang lightly over everything. No one aspect is all that complex, but the combination evokes a sometimes joyful, sometimes disturbed surreality, as if the music underwent a kind of refraction while traveling through outer space.

If these two tracks were less pretty, though, that effect would hit harder. Though the EP brims with high-energy and superheroic-sounding post punk, the sweetness of Lew’s voice is sometimes damned by its own whimsicality, and verges on twee. The harp trills on the Pow! remix of “Worms” escalate the album’s dreaminess too far into preciousness, and Lew’s voice, when in its silvery higher range, adopts a fancifulness that often reads as affected. I craved something grittier and more varied.

This slim EP bodes well for Cold Beat, though: in just two tracks, the group fully realizes and inhabits the world they’ve created. With all the momentum created on Worms, a full-length album from the group can’t be too far off. In the meantime, stream the EP from Rookie Mag, and check out the video for “Worms” below:

COLD BEAT – “WORMS” from Mike Stoltz on Vimeo.

ARTIST PROFILE: Lydia

When I first started writing about music, I promised myself I would never be biased. But, I had never never written about a band called Lydia. For me, Lydia is that band. That band I would quickly and confidently use to answer the age-old question: “If you had listen to one band for the rest of your life, who would it be?”

The Arizona-based indie-rock project took the stage in the Grand Ballroom at Webster Hall on Tuesday, Oct. 29, and though their set consisted of only seven songs, Lydia’s raw, engaging passion captivated the crowd from beginning to end.

“You guys look marvelous tonight,” frontman Leighton Antleman said with a charming smile spread across his face as he took the stage and greeted the audience. “We’re a band called Lydia, and we’re here to play you guys some music whether you fucking like it or not.”

And as the crowd burst into a roar of cheers and applause, Lydia opened with a track called “The Exit” from their new album Devil released March 19, 2013.

While the band’s set seemed to focus primarily on promoting their latest release, loyal fans know a proper Lydia show would not be complete without the whimsical, enchanting sounds from arguably their most praised album, Illuminate (2008). So, naturally, when Leighton sat down at the piano and the familiar, eerie beginning chords of “This is Twice Now” echoed throughout the room, nearly everyone recognized the song and sang along.

Only one song, “Best Nights,” was played from their 2011 release Paint it Golden before Lydia moved back into two more tracks from Devil.

As what could be called a perfect ending, the band chose “Hospital,” another track from Illuminate, for the finale.

Overall, the show proved Lydia is moving forward. While I personally enjoy many of the band’s older songs, it was promising to hear new, fresh music and watch them enjoy performing their new creation.

If you haven’t heard Lydia or seen one of their shows, well… what are you waiting for?

Last week, Audiofemme had a little chat with Lydia about their music and evolution as a band. Here’s what they had to say.

AF: The band has gone through quite a few lineup changes and different sounds over the years; do you think Lydia is still evolving sonically or pinning down a specific style at this point?

LYDIA I would hope we’re not pinning down a specific style. I really enjoy when people say that our style on every album is different. I would really hope we’re not just making the same albums over and over again.

AF: Leighton, I’ve told people this time and time again, but you sing profane words so beautifully. Where does your emotion come from?

LYDIA: I’m not sure. Guess I just try and do my thing and hope it turns out well.

AF: I know you’ve said before that there aren’t exactly “thought out” meanings behind Lydia songs, but the lyrics are so intricate. Do you just have a fetish for beautiful language?

LYDIA: I try and leave song meanings and stories up to the listener as best I can. I get the song to the point where I want it, and then let the listener take it from there. I really enjoy when someone tells me a certain song sounds like it was written about their life. That to me just means they took my story and subconsciously manipulated it in their head to fit what’s going on in their life. I love it.

AF: I’m a big fan of running themes and think they’re quite magical, actually. “Haley” (though with different spelling variations) has been a running theme since This December. Can you give us any insight into the inspiration for this?

LYDIA: I think it’s the simple fact that I, as well, enjoy running themes. So when I had the idea to put Hailey in the second album, Illuminate, again it took me on a long term story with her. I never know if I’m going to put her in current albums as we are working on them, but she somehow always finds a way in.

AF: Mindy White was an integral part of Lydia early on. It’s no secret that the music industry can be — across a wide spectrum — challenging, if not downright impenetrable for women. What can you tell us about this issue, having worked with a female band member? Further, do you have any advice for women in the industry?

LYDIA: I mean, I don’t personally think it’s a lot harder for females than males to make a name for themselves in music. Unfortunately, I think looks can factor in for females more than males, but if you are making great music I feel you will make a name for yourself regardless.

AF: Any plans of integrating another female member?

LYDIA: I try and not ever rule anything out, but at the moment there is absolutely no plans for that. I see it as a part of the long story. That was just what was going on with Lydia during that portion of the “story”. It’s always changing and evolving.

AF: Indie bands have been and certainly still are on the rise these days. How is the DIY mindset with Lydia? Will you guys always work without labels from here on?

LYDIA: I can’t really see us on a label again. You can do SO much stuff on your own these days. I don’t really want to have someone tell me what I can and can’t do. They also own some of Lydia’s music that we wrote. I feel like that’s a bit unfair to the artist that spent so much time and effort on it. But again, nothing is 100%.

AF: You’ve had a pretty loyal following throughout the years, label or not. However, do you find that the DIY takeover and subsequent democratization of the music industry has made it more difficult for a band to actually “make” it? How do you rate your success?

LYDIA: It probably has made it harder if you are just starting a band or getting into music. Bands have seen other DIY acts get really big and think, “I can do that”. Before, I think bands didn’t know you could do all of these things on your own and it was overwhelming for them. I don’t really try and rate our success. All I ever wanted from a young age was to be able to play music for a living. I love what I am allowed to do by our amazing fans.

AF: You just released Devil Deluxe. How does it differ from other Lydia albums in the past and what comes next?

LYDIA: From what I hear, Devil is happier than previous releases? I don’t like to go into writing trying for a certain sound, so I think that’s maybe the most consistent thing about the Lydia records. We really try and not go into writing with a preconceived view of what the record should be.

AF: If you could tell your fans one thing, what would it be?

LYDIA: You’re the only one that can keep you from being happy. I learned it the hard way.

EXCLUSIVE: “Grey White December”

Under the dainty moniker I Am Snow Angel, singer, songwriter and producer Julie Kathryn will release her debut EP in February 2014. The first track off the four-track album, “Let Me Go,” showcases Kathryn’s production expertise, layering her smooth, expressive vocals over delicate synth-pop beats. Now, in an AudioFemme exclusive, have a look at “Grey White December” off the I Am Snow Angel EP. This track employs subtle harmonies and folky vocals, but starts with a playful, catchy beat that adds new warmth to the sound. While “Let Me Go”, conjures images of icicles and frost over windowpanes, “Grey White December” elicits a snowy landscape bathed in sunshine. Amidst the electronics, Kathryn’s voice comes through with a highly controlled simplicity, indicating an understated vocal power. Restraint works for her, adding to the track’s polish and serenity.

I Am Snow Angel evokes the best parts of winter–pristine, puffy layers of whiteness on top of your windowsill, the way everything gets quieter underneath a layer of snow, chilly nights with clearer skies and brighter stars–but her voice balances the track with compellingly soft, sincere vocals. Look out for the I Am Snow Angel EP next February. Until then, you can listen to the new single right here on AudioFemme.

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LIVE REVIEW: Keep Shelly In Athens

Disoriented.

If I did a one-word review of this show, that would be the word.

The first order of disorientation was procuring my ticket for the show. It was under another name, but nowhere to be found on the list. It was on the will call list, but in order to prove this I had to show an image of the ticket. I do not have a smart phone, so, the ticket in another name had to be emailed to my friend’s phone and then shown to the list lady at her podium, along with my ID, which had nothing to do with the name on the ticket.

That was the first five minutes.

The lineup for the night was supposed to be thus:

-Teletextile

-Chad Valley

-Keep Shelly in Athens

So imagine my disorientation when the venue switched the order around and the last two bands refrained from introducing themselves, at least audibly. I knew the first band was Teletextile. They said so. However, their music was disorienting in the sense that it seemed out of place with the venue and headlining band. I can’t say Teletextile was a bad band, because that wouldn’t be fair. They all clearly knew what they were doing; they’re good musicians, write songs that are instrumentally textural, and put a lot of integrity into their performance… but I didn’t like them. Lead vocalist and harp-strummer Pamela Martinez was just a little too peppy for my liking. The songs were solid but there was something about her gleeful stage presence that made me skeptical of their depth. But maybe I’m just grumpy.

Next up was supposed to be Chad Valley according to the lineup. Yet out walked a band fronted by a tiny girl, who was wearing the same windbreaker donned by the lead singer of the opening band.

Oh, this must be Chad Valley.

The band immediately dived into a song I’ve heard before.

But, I’ve never heard Chad Valley before.

This song sounded strangely like one I heard at the AudioFemme office, but that song was by Keep Shelly in Athens.

I guessed both bands sound a lot alike.

Well, this Chad Valley band was damn incredible.

They sounded like Portishead meets My Bloody Valentine and The Stone Roses with a lick of Siouxsie Sioux, and dare I say, some early Moby.

You may have guessed this already, but this band was not in fact Chad Valley.

In fact, I did not care for Chad Valley. Ms. Martinez of Teletextile joined the set and it just wasn’t my cup. The only phrase that came to mind was Gleewave.

So now I’ll tell you more about Keep Shelly in Athens, the accidental sub-headliner of their own show.

They opened with “Time Exists Only to Betray Us” which is one of the most powerful tracks I’ve heard from a contemporary band in a long time. It’s a wall of sound, flitting with tension and anxiety slowed to 15 rpms of stoner-rock molasses. The lead vocalist, aforementioned tiny girl Sarah P, wails far beyond her weight class. She’ll start with a soft coo and stretch into a wide-mouthed snarl that carries through the ambient chaos of the music. It’s as if she morphs from Hope Sandoval to Patti Smith in one measure.

However, Keep Shelly in Athens isn’t just Sarah P. The band is co-fronted by producer RNR, who shows a lot of promise in my opinion. The duo has a rare ability to sound far better live than recorded, even though they still sound great in the studio. Their music is challenging, intoxicating, and perfectly mixed. It is one thing to be a band that writes great songs. It’s a completely different thing to be a band with a producer as one of the members. These guys know how to write, play, and perform, but they REALLY know how to mix, and that’s everything the other two bands were missing.

You know one last thing I really love about Keep Shelly in Athens? They’re actually from Athens.

I found that comforting amidst all the confusion.

LIVE REVIEW: King Khan & The Shrines

I invited absolutely everybody I know to the King Khan show on Wednesday. I know it was $20, but we’re talking about King Khan for the love of god, and on the night before Halloween, no less. Did this combination of factors sound appealing only to me? Would no one join me in bouncing to the tunes of a half-naked band in golden capes?

No. They would not.

Well, I cared not.

King Khan and The Shrines is one of those bands I’d always wanted to see live. Mostly because they have an unblemished reputation of delivering one kickass performance, all the while wrapped in ridiculous costumes. What more could anybody want? The band is currently touring to promote their latest LP Idle No More, which came out on Merge Records in early September.

The opening band was Canadian four-piece Hellshovel, who, as I later found out, have a pretty established list of releases. They were a good fit for the opening slot: talented musically, very much into their set, and loud. Hellshovel had a very classic sound somewhere between stoner rock and early metal, and their harmonies were spot-on.

In between groups was DJ Jonathan Toubin, who was massaging the Halloween novelty by playing a selection of eerie ’60s tracks, horror punk, and fright-night inspired classics. The whole show was well curated for King Khan fans.

The Shrines did a great job of tossing in some tracks from the new release (“Bite My Tongue” for instance) while playing all the early gems the audience was eager to hear (“Land of the Freak”, “Took My Lady to Dinner”, etc.). The King waltzed out on stage in a slick purple suit like the boss he is and screeched and preached the whole show through. The Shrines were no less enthused, and performed mid-audience as much as they did on the actual stage.

The best thing about King Khan and The Shrines is that while they’re a ball live, look funny in spandex, and sing about a grab-bag of silly things, at the end of the day they’re a great band. How many party bands can play tightly as a nine-piece funk/soul/scuzz-rock ensemble complete with horns, craft catchy and well-written pop-songs and put on a blast of a show? I can’t really name any.

On top of their musical dexterity, The Shrines have codified a tight-knit group of fans that are some of the most welcoming people to be with at a show alone. Three songs and two beers into the set I was dancing with the whole floor of Shrine worshippers, and that sense of communal fun-having is a rare and special thing. I will say the crowd was less rowdy than I expected, but the dancing certainly didn’t disappoint.

For the band’s encore, King Khan pulled a costume change, stripping down to black wrestling undies with a glittering codpiece, a bedazzled cape, and Cleopatra wig. They played around three more songs, and we were all very appreciative.

I’m downright sorry if you missed this show, but then again, I probably invited you.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Lou Reed’s “Transformer”

I was 17 the first time I saw Transformer in a record store. The cover, exhibiting an androgynous figure holding onto a neon-rimmed guitar, boasting heavily blackened eyelids stopped me as I absentmindedly skimmed my way through the ‘R’s of the CD section in Rush-Mor Records. I had listened to a couple of albums by The Velvet Underground, but until then, had never put a face to the name Lou Reed. I simply associated him as one of people credited in bold font on the inside jacket of my The Velvet Underground & Nico record, and the genius behind songs like “I’m Waiting For The Man” and “Run, Run, Run”. Despite it stopping me dead in my tracks, I didn’t buy Transformer that day, but I came back from time to time, hoping it would still be there for when I was finally ready to shell out the mere $9.99 requested on the little yellow sticker on the top right corner.

When I finally did get my hands on a copy of Transformer, (much like with my first Velvet Underground record), I was taken from my sleepy Midwestern city to the seedy New York subculture of the early 70s, where heroin addicts, transvestites, drag queens and artists dwelled in decrepit East Village apartments and hung out with Andy Warhol. I heard “Vicious” and was comforted by the witty, deadpan babbling I had become accustomed to (“Vicious/You hit me with a flower/You do it every hour/Oh baby, you’re so vicious”). I impatiently skipped from song to song, from the epic glam-rock orchestration of, “Perfect Day”, reminiscent of Ziggy Stardust era David Bowie, to the spacey “Wagon Wheel” where Reed hums “Won’t you tell me, baby/How does it feel?/You’ve gotta live your life as though you’re number one/Yeah you’ve gotta live your life and make the point of having some fun” to the backdrop of a crew of vivacious backup vocals.

The highlight on the entire 36 minute record, however, was “Walk on the Wild Side” (of course).

“Walk on the Wild Side” is a relatively simple work of art–a bass guitar and stand up bass repeatedly play a short riff in unison, a guitar shuffles back and forth between only three chords, the back up vocals of the British trio Thunderthighs come in from time to time, and a short saxophone solo closes the song–but it is because of its minimalism that the song becomes undeniably catchy and memorable. Reed narrates a series of anecdotes on a number of prominent countercultural figures made famous by Andy Warhol–Candy Darling (the “darling” transexual superstar), Holly Woodlawn (the transgender actress who “hitchhiked her way across the USA”), Joe Dallesdandro (an infamous hustler/rent boy and gay icon), Jackie Curtis (a troubled performance artist, and self proclaimed James Dean reincarnate), and the elusive “Sugar Plum Fairy” (Reed’s code for a heroin supplier, similar to the title of “The Man” used in his other songs)–all in his notorious deadpan tone. Lou Reed does it so well, so smoothly, and so convincingly, almost to the point where you believe it’s all fictitious and think that there’s no way that every single one of these characters could have possibly inhabited the same space as him.

Transformer is often regarded as Reed’s most impressive release in his entire solo career. The record has been cited in countless ‘Greatest Records of All Time’ lists, in addition to a number of records by the Velvet Underground. Upon the announcement of his death just last week, sales of the now 42 year old record have surged, and a number of eulogies written by some of his longtime friends and companions–John Cale, Patti Smith, David Bowie–have surfaced online. Reed signifies much more than just another musician who we have lost, however, and instead serves one of the key figures in a broader New York subculture that has almost completely diminished in the last four decades. Lou Reed, a transgressive, innovative artist and musician put a face to those who were otherwise outcasted and deemed as low lifes or freaks by societal standards–the hustlers, the transients, the bisexual teenager, the glamourous transexual, the oddball artist, androgynous bodies and junkies–immortalizing them in his music, giving them the agency that they never had.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: “The Murder Mystery”

When I sat down to write my first entry for Audiofemme, I knew that I wanted to write about Lou Reed. While there are undoubtedly swarms of articles surfacing in memory of the late Lou Reed, I found that journalists mostly took one of two routes; some discussed Reed’s life and his social impact in popular culture, while others discussed his influence on punk, rock and alternative music. Being a lifelong Velvet Underground and Lou Reed fan, I believe that Reed’s actual musical contributions are what should be commemorated in the wake of his recent passing. I will highlight here one of the Velvet Underground’s more underrated songs, “The Murder Mystery”, off of their 1969 self-titled album.

If you have never heard “The Murder Mystery” before, listen to it immediately. It’s one of the Velvet’s quintessential songs, incorporating rhythmic and melodic dissonance, sound feedback and unconventional composition. “The Murder Mystery” consists of four different songs that have been forced together to create one song . Each member of the group sings/recites their own narrative. These narratives are constantly clashing. All four band members (Reed, Maureen Tucker, Sterling Morrison and Doug Yule) speak over each other, either by overlapping the other’s narrative, reciting lines at half the speed of the other, or by completely clashing.

The song is just shy of nine minutes long, and is divided into two parts, with a brief transitional section. The first five minutes follow the same format, consisting of verses with two narratives directly clashing while Tucker and Yule sing a brief chorus of overlapping melodies. At around six minutes into the song the music starts to climax and the rhythms develop dissonance as the music becomes increasingly discordant. This is elevated when the track is suddenly filled with feedback and Yule haphazardly slams on the keys of a organ.

The final section is the most interesting. Amongst all this disorder, a poppy, upbeat chord pattern is introduced on the organ. The discordance fades as the organ increases and the last verse of the previous section is cut short mid-word. This new section is accompanied by new vocal patterns, where two different narratives are recited in unison. The organ accelerates and the lyrics of the song become increasingly macabre.

“…contempt, contempt, and contempt for the seething for writhing and reeling and two-bit

reportage, for sick with the body and sinister holy, the drown burst blue babies now dead

on the seashore, the valorous horseman, who hang from the ceiling, the pig on the

carpet, the dusty pale jissom…”

The music accelerates as clashing chords and notes appear amongst the original pattern. Someone smashes on the organ once again, as a mountain of noise builds briefly only to fade out. The dichotomy between the cheerful melody and the morose lyrics creates a sinister atmosphere that adds to the unsettling feeling that “The Murder Mystery” leaves you with.

The lyrics of the whole song are extremely esoteric and hard to interpret. Most of the song feels like a flow of consciousness, making it impossible to follow. At times it seems like they are ranting about the superficiality of the popular music scene:

“ …with cheap simian melodies, hillbilly outgush, for illiterate ramblings for cheap

understanding the simple the inverse, the compost, the reverse, the obtuse and stupid,

and business, and business, and cheap, stupid lyrics, and simple mass reverse while

the real thing is dying…”

At other times it just seems like the lyrics are so meaningless that they are mocking the listeners: “No nose is good news” . Sometimes they are self-referential, making subtle nods to “Sister Ray” and “Black Angel’s Death Song.”

To say that I completely understand this track would be a lie. It is, however, one of the Velvet’s most innovative and unconventional songs. The Velvet Underground made a creative shift on this album, most likely as a result of John Cale’s departure from the group. Other members of the group began to feature more prominently, and Reed moved away from his power rock guitar chords to a more lo-fi folk sound. Listen to the “The Murder Mystery” first all together, and then listen to it again with only one ear to your headphones, to decipher each narrative.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Kings of Leon “Youth and Young Manhood”

Anthony Caleb Followill, Ivan Nathan Followill and Michael Jared Followill — who go by their middle names — spent their childhood traveling the southern states while their father, Ivan Leon Followill, delivered sermons as an United Pentecostal Church pastor. As detailed in the Kings of Leon’s documentary, Talihina Sky, their father’s religion had a great influence on the family. The boys were enrolled in religious education when they were not home-schooled by their mother, Betty Ann. Eventually, Ivan became overwhelmed by his religion, which may have been a contributing factor in his divorce with Betty Ann and the boys going their own way — Caleb and Nathan moved to Nashville, Tenn., their birth state, to try their hand at music. They had performed in choirs with their church, but now that they were on their own and free of the religion’s strict hold, they began experimenting with heavy drugs and rock and roll. The two rejected the idea of a musical duo and recruited their younger brother Jared as their bassist — although at the time he had no experience with a guitar — while Caleb and Nathan would become vocalist/guitarist and drummer, respectively. Once they “kidnapped” their cousin Matthew to play guitar, the band was set.

Caleb and Nathan had signed a deal with RCA, who promised to check up on the band after a month. In that month, the brothers and cousin began planning what would become the Holy Roller Novocaine EP, a five-track offering of drug-induced hard rock with blues influence, released in 2003. The boys sang of women, narcotics and fame. Their hair was long and their bellbottoms were flared: they were the image of southern rock and rebellion. Four songs of Holy Roller Novocaine became part of the band’s first full release, Youth and Young Manhood, later that year.

The album opens with clashing guitars and drums and Caleb’s quick lyrics about a girl prostituting herself and the attitude of the men she serves. This song quickly sets the tone of the rest of the album full of smoky rooms and rock and roll. The best of the album is found in the songs riffed from Holy Roller Novocaine. “California Waiting” involved Caleb crooning about how he just wants to be alone and live his life how we wants without the influence of others. “Molly’s Chambers” was redone to a quick, hard-hitting jam about a girl who enslaves men in her “chambers” for her fun. They both hate and love this temptress. “Holy Roller Novocaine” is probably the track most straightforwardly about drugs — and also sex, of course, likely the result of many days spent in the Followill’s basement, jamming and drugging, (just like all great rock and roll, right?) The closing track ends with “Talihina Sky,” a rare, slower track for this album. The song is a homage to their hometown in Tennessee and explores the theme of leaving. Beautiful both sonically and conceptually, it is the track that they later used as the name of their documentary and is probably one of their best overall. It’s relatable in the sense of wanting to leave home, and offers a serious note regarding the themes of drugs and sex, pervasive throughout the album.

Youth and Young Manhood set Kings of Leon up on their path to stardom. It’s interesting to think that before Caleb penned 2008’s “Use Somebody,” a commercial hit, he and his family were producing music of this nature. But it’s some of their best work. The brothers and cousin revisited some of their roots with Mechanical Bull‘s “Don’t Matter,” paying homage to some of the rock that influenced them early on. Though they’ve evolved in their sound — some say “selling out” into the mainstream — they will always maintain that southern rock and roll ethos they developed in the beginning.

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Bands Before You Knew Them

There are plenty of examples of bands reinventing themselves or musicians resetting their careers, and while often times these examples are brought up in a negative light (Lana Del Rey/Lizzie Grant, anyone?), it’s kind of an industry standard that most of our favorite musicians have taken advantage of. Here’s a quick look back at some well known bands in their fledgling forms.

Sun Kil Moon // Red House Painters

Mark Kozelek and friends released Sun Kil Moon’s debut album, Ghosts of the Great Highway, to widespread critical acclaim in 2003, but at that point it had only been a couple of short years since the same band members had been releasing material under the name Red House Painters. Formed in 1989, Red House Painters’ six full length albums never achieved the critical success that Sun Kil Moon’s Ghosts would, but Kozelek had no qualms about admitting that Ghosts “was actually a Red House Painters album with a different name” and that the name change was mostly an effort to generate new interest from the press.

The Shins // Flake Music

The Shins are said to have formed in 1996 but their debut album, Oh, Inverted World, wasn’t released until 2001. In fact, during those in-between years, James Mercer’s band was actually called Flake Music and they released an EP as well as an 11-track album, When You Land Here, It’s Time to Return. Several of the tracks are short instrumentals and the sound is definitely more lo-fi alt-rock than what The Shins would later become known for, but it’s worth a listen.

Bon Iver // Justin Vernon

I guess he didn’t make it big as himself because he has a pretty boring self, to be honest. Justin Vernon was originally in DeYarmond Edison, a band that included future members of Megafaun and Field Report. The band officially broke up in 2006, but by then Justin had already released two solo albums: Hazeltons in ’06 Self Record in ’05. It was only a year after recording Hazeltons that Justin had a mini-meltdown and created Bon Iver, releasing For Emma, Forever Ago in 2007. Check out this track from Hazeltons, which sounds oddly familiar (hint: check out “Holocene” from Bon Iver).

Caribou // Manitoba

Dan Snaith began recording his smooth electronic music under the name Manitoba in 2001, releasing Start Breaking My Heart to very favorable reviews. The moniker stuck through a second album, Up in Flames, but it was shortly after his sophomore release that Snaith was threatened with a lawsuit by Richard Manitoba, lead singer of punk rock band The Dictators. By the time Snaith’s third album, The Milk of Human Kindness, came out in 2005, he had already become Caribou.

ALBUM REVIEW: Drive By Truckers “Alabama Ass Whuppin”

Described as Alternative Country/Southern Rock, the Drive-By Truckers are a southern band. Two of their members hail from Northern Alabama, while the other three are from Athens, Georgia. Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley founded the band in Athens Georgia in 1996. Both Hood and Cooley were previous members of other bands such as Adam’s House Cat, Virgil Kane, and Horsepussy. They released their first album in 1998 entitled Gangstability, and their second album: Pizza Deliverance in 1999. But perhaps the most interesting one of all was their third . During a nationwide tour they created a live album by the name of “Alabama Ass Whuppin,” which was released in 2000 by Second Heaven Records, re-released in 2002 by Terminous records, and then released for the third time on September 10, 2013 by ATO records, available on vinyl for the first time. For this third iteration, the tracks have been completely re-mastered, and the cover features new artwork by Wes Freed.

The first track called “Why Henry drinks”, is simple, humorous and relatable. Clearly whomever inspired the song gets under the writer’s skin: an experience most of us have in common. While Hood’s voice is rough around the edges, it’s also filled with passion and raw emotion. The second track, (and my favorite on the album) “Lookout Mountain”, takes a darker turn in its exploration of suicide. Palpably heavy, one can feel the weight while listening to the lyrics. The song shows just how much people start to think about personhood once they feel as though losing it is a possibility. Lyrics such as, “Whose gonna pay my credit card bill, whose gonna pay for my mistakes?” And “Whose gonna stand there taking credit? Whose gonna lay there passing blame? ” truly puts things into perspective. The entire album is filled with strong, captivating guitar lines, but the guitar solo in this song is particularly enjoyable. While I found tracks four and five to be strikingly similar in terms of melody, I truly enjoyed, track five entitled “Don’t be in love around me.” It’s like the ultimate anti- Valentines Day song and I can see listeners dancing wildly, smashing a vase filled with flowers or beating up a helpless stuffed teddy bear while keeping this song on repeat.

The album overall, is sonically enjoyable, as much for the music as the stories that were being told. There is something very intimate about a live album that draws listeners in and makes them feel as though they are part of something special. It is as if one gets to live through a time in the musician’s lives in experiencing these songs. Track eleven, “Steve McQueen” was a lot of fun to listen to, eliciting images of a hoedown. I envision people standing in a circle and clapping to the beat of the song, while taking turns dancing in the middle of the circle, as the band pours their hearts out onto their instruments. While both “Lookout Mountain” and “People who died” explore the theme of death, I gravitated far more toward the former, while the latter’s in your face nature and aggressive tone was a tough pill to swallow. “Lookout Mountain” indeed had morbid undertones; yet something about it was still quite beautiful, creative and straightforward. Overall, Drive-By Truckers third album, “Alabama Ass Whuppin” is a well-crafted honest body of work. It is very comforting to hear people being so honest about their feelings.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Burzum “Aske”

Scandinavian black metal began as direct descendant of English heavy metal acts like Venom and Bathory, the morbid younger sister of death metal and the spacey, supernatural cousin of hardcore punk. It’s a young subgenre—Mayhem’s 1987 Deathcrush EP sparked the scene in Norway in the late eighties and early nineties, and by the end of that decade, black metal had largely self-destructed. The movement adopted heavy metal lyrical styles towards darker, more occult themes, emphasizing a theatrical live show style in which musicians would perform wearing corpse paint—a more realistic take on Kiss-style stage makeup—and sometimes cut themselves on stage, carrying animal heads on sticks or flinging meat and blood into the audience. Many bands identified as Satanist, either symbolically or in practice, for shock value or in response to the mildly Lutheran Scandinavian norm. This led to a series of church burnings throughout the nineties, many of them nominally in protest of Christian churches built on top of ancient Pagan burial grounds. What began as a game of one-upmanship amongst the heavy hitters of the scene spiraled symbolic Satanism into real acts, and several of the genre’s most talented musicians’ careers were cut short by suicide, murder, prison, or alienation from the ever-increasingly extreme ideology of the movement.

No black metal bands were more prolific than Burzum, a band that put out two albums a year in 1991, 1992, and 1993, and then incrementally slowed its releases(to one every other year or so) after sole member Varg Vikernes was convicted of murdering Mayhem’s frontman, Øystein Aarseth, and incarcerated. Burzum’s Aske album, a three-track mini-LP that clocks in at a scant twenty minutes and came out in 1993, was the last Burzum release before Vikernes’ arrest. Though Aske, in typical nineties metal style, uses thick distortion and rough-edged recording techniques, it also incorporates aggressive bass lines and eighties-influenced power chords that suppress the kind of crackling, rhythmless chaos common in black metal. This actually makes the album accessible, even catchy, compared with contemporaneous releases and Burzum’s later work, which turned ambient and fully electronic while he was in jail and, not having access to an electric guitar, switched to recording on a synthesizer.

Despite strong riffs and an instrumental balance that, although too polished for purists, lent complexity and depth to the record, Aske was underwhelming. This was partially due to its length—the three songs felt like build-up; were it a standard-length album, things would have had plenty of time to get interesting—and partially due to the fact that Burzum valued shock value over musical integrity on this LP. Early in his career, Vikernes expressed his world views in a general sort of way (“Only Transylvanian pussy will do!” reads a Burzum interview conducted by an unknown metal zine, sometime in 1993. “Hail Saddam Hussein! Hail Hitler! Make war, not love!”) However, when the epidemic of church burnings in Norway, beginning around 1992, came to be attributed to Satanist black metal musicians, Varg Vikernes seemed to begin to consider himself more activist than musician. Around the time the Aske album was released, Vikernes was busy giving newspapers anonymous interviews and fending off an arrest for his alleged burning of the Fantoft Stave Church, a prominent, nearly-nine-hundred-year-old cathedral in Bergen, Norway. Vikernes was ultimately found not guilty of that crime, though he was convicted in two other church burning cases, and the album cover for Aske pictured the Fantoft Stave church in flames. Burzum extolled the church burnings in songs and distributed Aske merch, with the same image that appears on the album cover, like t shirts, poster and—you guessed it—lighters.

It’s possible to talk about Burzum’s first two albums without getting into their attending politics. In later releases, Burzum proved more true to political themes than to genre, and has recently released only totally electronic albums. Vikernes divorced himself from black metal long ago, though he helped create it. “Yet again I have left behind the metal genre and have chosen a different path—but for no other reason than me following my Pagan spirit willingly to wherever it takes me,” Vikernes wrote this year in his blog, which I don’t recommend reading unless you want to be deeply offended from about six different angles. Aske follows the musical trajectory laid out by Burzum’s releases, but the shift is clear: this LP is the first of many, many albums the band put out in which the music falls secondary to the message.

Month: November 2013