Bent Leg Fatima - 'Mouse b/w Crow, Cat & Snake' (Lounge)

This two-song, 33rpm single is Bent Leg Fatima's vinyl debut (I guess), and a bit of fun if you haven't just listened to the LP, like I did. But, if you are going to distill a great LP into two of its best songs and put out a single before the album comes out, I guess these are two great choices. I can't tell how different these recordings or pressings are - I'd like to say that 'Mouse's organs have a bit more room to breathe here than on the LP, but I can't really say that with confidence. Things do crescendo here and the cymbals threaten to overwhelm, but the band holds tight and the poor mouse has nowhere else to go. 'Crow, Cat & Snake' mellows it out a bit, though you'd think those animals would be fighting each other like maniacs. It's a deep Philly groove, not an ass-shaker but a headscratcher. Though it falls into mellow indie-keyboard territory, I do like the way the bass guitar, electric guitar and keys fall in and out of phase with each other - its an old trick to kick some trippyness into 4/4, but it works well. (I'm not oblivious to the idea that these instruments represent the animals of the title, in which case guitar is crow). The URL printed on the sleeve (www.voicenet.com/~lounge) is long dead (2004, according to the Wayback machine at archive.org) and I think we can assume the same about Lounge Records. I couldn't find images for this or the LP online which might put this band at the perfect cusp of pre-Internet saturation (1997-98, the golden years, eh?).

Beltbuckle (Sonic Bubblegum)

Sometime in 1993, a now-forgotten Massachusetts label with a Bazooka Joe ripoff logo put out this 4 song EP. It was a bit of a Massachusetts supergroup, being a songwriting partnership between Lou Barlow (of Sebadoh) and Eric Matthews (of Cardinal and a generally under-the-radar solo career). The glue holding it together is Bob Fay, who later would perform in both Cardinal and Sebadoh. But strangely this slips through the cracks of history despite its total excellence. 'Judas Suicide' sets the pace with three distinct sections, merging hypnotic teenage angst with cult-like devotion. Maybe I'm just timewarping back to high school but I'm still a bit shocked at how natural this sounds despite the mood shifts. My eyes wideneds and ears tingled as I clutched my Mexican Telecaster, with this dubbed to my Walkman. Do kids still feel this way anymore or has the digital Myspace era taken all of that away? 'Pocket Skylab Love' mines some territory not far from My Dad is Dead, but with a somewhat more home-spun feel, if possible. But the gem is side two track one -- 'Mary Hair'. Early 90's indierock songwriting rarely hits such magical peaks -- 'King of the roadtrip, no defrocking' and the Beastie Boys are there, and despite fart jokes and cheapass distortion pedals, this is my adolescence captured in a two minute song. Actually, it's what I thought my post-adolescence could be. I was wrong as hell, but I'm thankful for the goal. 'Girl Who Reads' rounds it out with a bit of aggression, like Tar meeting 'God Told Me' from Sebadoh III. These days I only give two shits about Lou Barlow when revisiting this 91-93 New England-centric period -- but this may be my single favorite entry in his discography. Eric Matthews is mostly relegated to background vocals (w/Fay) but I think he certainly had a hand in crafting 'Mary Hair'. The Cardinal LP (an equally awesome project, particularly because the partner is the incredibly singular talent of Richard Davies) found an audience after all these years, getting a deluxe CD reissue. I don't know where this Beltbuckle EP will end up in in the narrative continuum since it's just a tossed off side-project, but for something tossed off, there's an incredible unity in the songwriting.

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)?