Bob Bannister - 'Easterly' (Remora)

In 1994 Bob Bannister put out this 4-song solo EP and I bought it a few years later, finding it probably at a secondhand shop or in a clearance bin. It's been so long since I've listened to it that I forgot I had it, but that's what this project is for, right? 'Least Bell's Vireo' is a piece for two just-intonated guitars, an experiment in timbre and dissonance that (due to the format limitations) sadly ends before it really gets going. 'Rising 33' is a real gem to follow with - the most orchestrated piece on the 7", with bass, guitar, keys, violin and a flute, it tears itself apart in all manners of South Island weather balloon observation music yet still keeps a few feet on the grimy NYC streets. 'Hen First' on side B is a 4-track recording of electric guitar jangle which is pleasant, yet slightly throwaway - and then 'Locks and Bolts' winds things up with an organ-driven pop song, with beautiful, romantic lyrics multitracked. There's a slight country twang to his voice and it feels a bit like church music at the same time. So beautiful and plain and succinct -- one for the mix tapes! I think he did a solo full-length which would be nice to track down (in addition to those Fire in the Kitchen and Tono-Bungay records, none of which are bad). The title is wonderfully appropriate as this music is very 'east coast' and windy - with clear direction but not necessarily force or gusto.

Baby 63 - 'Quiver' b/w 'Shark Watch Maker' (S-S)

The treasure trove of early 80s obscurities, reissues from some punk tidal wave, is a gift that keeps on giving. Here, Soriano of S-S records brings two songs from the Baby 63 tape to vinyl. 'Quiver' sounds like a Ralph Records outtakes with weird, warbled grinding and tape flutter (probably just an artifact from the original source, though it sounds great) buried deep in each channel. The song changes gears a few times and resonates in air also occupied by fans of Tuxedomoon, though with a darker, more amateurish Very Good records vibe. Yet there's something Beefheartian about the singing, or maybe post-Beefheartian (the antecedent to Stump, perhaps?). 'Shark Watch Maker' is a very repetitive dark grind that has it's moaning industralism cut by some strained vocals, which pull against the guitars. I like when songs are layered with heavy minimal guitars and synths, yet the drum track is someone hitting an empty Tupperware container (or something similar household and 'small'). The liner notes explain the story of Baby 63, which was almost entirely one woman named Karen Fletcher. It took 21 years for these two songs to see vinyl and I can only wonder about the rest of her output.

Bablicon - 'Chunks of Syrup Amidst Plain Yoghurt'/'Silicon Diodes' (Pickled Egg)

I guess this was a teaser for the In A Different City album; side A is straight from that record, a nice enough tune with a casual casio beat, some chunky banjo and a general mid 90's wyrd pop vibe that you never hear anymore. This reminds me a LOT of Bügsküll, especially when the sampled, processed speaking comes in towards the end. Its not the most representative track of early Bablicon but when diversity was the name of the game, what is? Bonus points for the 'Tusk'-like coda of the college football marching band. And the B-side is good for eclectic weirdness. Spoken japanese vocals, a thumping jazz-rock line, and some weird musique concrete breakdowns make 'Silicon Diodes' a true winner - something that would probably fit best on that awesome second album or EP, The Orange Tapered Moon. It descends into a nimble electric piano dance that is whimsical and weird, and leaves you wanting more, which is exactly what a "single" should do right?

Azusa Plane / Roy Montgomery split (Colorful Clouds for Acoustics)

The Azusa Plane tune is titled 'Volume IV: She Was Into S&M and Bible Studies, Not Everyone's Cup of Tea She Would Admit to Me, Her Cup of Tea She Would Admit to No One' and it's a 33 1/3 slice of slowly pulsing drone. The cover art is apt and this is one that you feel more than you hear, know what I mean? Roy Montgomery's side, 'Cumulus and Fugue', is similar stylistically to the guitar/delay strum heard on Temple IV. There's a more tonal center than the Azusa side, though it's still barely recognizable as guitar, and like the best kinda of these things it works well either really quiet or really loud. Thin, translucent blue vinyl ties this all together conceptually and if you get your kicks doing as little as possible, this is your soundtrack.

Azucar / Noggin split (Sweet Baboo)

Almost four months of limbo while we waited for LPs and CDs to catch up, but welcome back! I'm not sure how this ended up in my 7" accumulation, but it's a fun little treasure. The side which is Azucar (I THINK - they are unlabeled) is a meandering instrumental gem of piano, guitar and violin. It's tender and melodic but continually falling apart and picking itself back up. It's kinda in the vein of one of those indie-classical groups like Rachel's, only if they were afflicted by Parkinson's disease. Whoever they were, they came from Brunswick, NJ, always a home of anti-aesthetic weirdos. Could today's gang of BoneToothHorn rascals be somehow affiliated? But from the West coast, Noggin take a different approach to the violin: manic and lo-fi, dancing around the perimeter of utter beauty but also falling away from it. It's like Malcolm Goldstein put through the laundry machine a few times - on the cold/cold cycle. This was 1996; I can only think about how this would have been received ten years earlier or ten years later. Records like this make me love the 7" format - a slice of visionary weirdness, eternally reproducible in a way the CD-R won't be. Will tomorrow's centurions of the obscure dedicate their bandwidth to finding out just who (or what) Azucar were (or was)?

Auk Theatre / Ortho split (no label)

Here's a split 7" picturedisc, one side being the soundtrack from Irene Moon's performance-based Auk Theatre, and the other from a group called Ortho.  Ortho's side is about insects, a common theme in Moon's work actually, and sounds as such, though it would be insects in the dying stages of their short lifespan.  There's picking and plucking and lots of time to look at the corners of the room.  The Auk Theatre side is either mastered with a shitload of lock grooves, or heavily scratched (it's hard to tell on the pic-disc surface) because my turntable arm continually stuck on weird repetitive bits.  With a few manual advances I got through the piece which is a dentistry-themed work, full of dental drills jackhammering into your consciousness, with some warble and samples from 50's educational films.  I thought that losing the visual aspect of the piece would lessen my enjoyment, but it stands up pretty well as a fucked up sound nightmare too -- once I figured out how to crank my turntable counterweight back.

The 1985 (Monoton Studio)

Source: Got it in 2001, maybe at a record release show? It's hazy, those days....

Fast-forward a few years, after the '85 have gone on a few tours, put out a few full-lengths, and had a membership change. This release, possibly their final one, is a real re-invention: there's something European about them now. I mean, Monoton is a German label, so maybe a direction change was part of the contract. New (though not so new by 2001) drummer A.E. Paterra plays the electronic drum kit, no doubt easier to travel with, and the whole process takes on a more "mature" sound. On side 1, Joe Vernet, Jr. is still yelping like his toenails are being pulled out, but it has a, I dunno, sophistication previously unheard. There's a weird guitar comedown at the end of 'The Long Weekend' which is strangely pretty. Then, side 2 - the total departure - the slow, pulsing electro-pop of '(Even) More', featuring electric piano and delicately sung vocals! Have the '85 abandoned their roots? Or just signaled at the tensions re:direction that potentially led to their disbanding? I doubt anyone actually heard this 7" so I suppose that no one was really asking.