
From 0-1 is an excellent newish local techno label run by ex-Wisconsinites Justin “Milkplant” Pennell and Brian “Sone” Sonnleitner. They are holding a contest to see who can create the best remix of Sone’s already intensely satisfying “Recovery Mode” (scroll to the bottom to find the original track). Contest details can be perused here. Deadline is March 29.
I sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by four stereos. Neil Young's Harvest Moon at 12 o'clock, Bob Dylan's Infidels at three o'clock, REM's Green at six o'clock, and Fleetwood Mac's Rumours at nine o'clock. For the next 30 minutes all four of these stereos would play simultaneously, and it would sound horrible. But there would be one moment of a clarity, and it would all be worth it.
The goal of this experiment was to see if I could recreate the sound of Blitzen Trapper, a six-piece band out of Portland that has been said at one time or another to sound like all of these artists. After listening to Blitzen Trapper—NPR calls them "Ramshackle roots-rock"—I found myself more intrigued by what the band was SUPPOSED to sound like than what they actually do. And I wondered: Could I, using a combination of all of their supposed influences plus a touch of Northwest organica, produce something that sounded like Blitzen Trapper?
In the circle with me I also had a poorly tuned acoustic guitar, a Nalgene bottle, a smattering of dirt, decomposing fern leaves, and dead or dying banana slugs that I had collected from the creek bed near my house. When one of the banana slugs tried to get away, I opened the CD hatch that contained Bob Dylan’s Infidels and shoved the banana slug inside.
After about five minutes something weird happened. I had taken to smearing the dirt on my face, pouring the Nalgene water over my head, screaming "Ramshackle roots-rock!" and punching myself in the stomach. But then, just as Stevie Nick’s melodic trills combined with Neil Young’s guitar noodling on “Out on the Weekend,” I heard it: Eric Earley’s voice. The lead singer of Blitzen Trapper. I was delighted and decided that I would let it go on for another 10-15 minutes to see if it happened again, but mostly it just sounded like four songs playing at the same time. Plus I sort of got dirt in my eye and the banana slug had started to make the Bob Dylan CD skip.
But I had done it. I had recreated—if only for a fleeting moment—the sound of Blitzen Trapper using the sounds of their influences and a few carefully collected miscellaneous ingredients. But here’s the thing: my music sounded better. Ramshackle roots-rock!

I'm about to spend ten days driving around Texas* which means the past few days have been all about making iPod playlists for the type of unusually deep music listening enabled by long car drives alone.
Why I'm bringing this up: One such playlist I made is a hundred-song overview of Wu-Tang music—solo stuff, group stuff, drawing mostly the widely acknowledged Major Statements, specifically:
*The Wu-Tang Clan's Enter the Wu-Tang, The W, and 8 Diagrams
*Method Man's Tical
*Raekwon's Cuban Linx
*GZA's Liquid Swords (and, uh, Pro Tools—I found it at the library)
*ODB's Return to the 36 Chambers and Nigga Please
*RZA's Ghost Dog
*And pretty much all the Ghostface records (missing link: Bulletproof Wallets; am I a fool?)
Here's my question: Where do I go next? I've been listening to most of these records for years, and I will soon be ready for more. Is there some amazing Killa Beez record I'm missing? Or Gravediggaz? (I've got Killah Priest's Heavy Mental coming, but I fear it will not arrive in time for my departure; oh well.)
Thank you for your help.
* I'll be talking about Showgirls and conversion therapy for homosexuals, but not at the same time.

I consider myself an unabashed Art Brut fanatic. (I have blathered about them at some length for the Stranger here and here to varying degrees of success). So when the band announced a third album on the way, Art Brut vs. Satan, due out May 12th in the US and produced by no less than Pixies howler Frank Black, I was terribly excited.
Unfortunately, the album's lead single and b-side, "Alcoholics Unanimous" and "Just Desserts" respectively, have got me drastically hedging my bets. For a band whose stock and trade is lyrical cleverness and charm—sure, the band's rock'n'roll is pitch perfect and unimpeachable, but it's also really just a vehicle for lead singer Eddie Argos' usually inspired ranting—these songs land as worryingly dull thuds. "Alcoholics Unanimous" is a standard issue hangover number, alternately demanding ("bring me coffee!" "bring me tea!") and apologetic—it's plainly relatable subject matter, but Argos at his best makes the plainly relatable also uniquely anthemic; here, he can't seem to manage the shift from knowing wink to fist-in-the-air sing-along. (The video is cute, though.) The b-side is equally disappointing, a meditation on the consoling powers of ice cream (people not in love also lie around and get fat, apparently) and its attendant dangers (Argos' doctor warns him he's heading for a heart attack); upon first listen, I didn't even make it to the song's second chorus of "whenever I get hurt/I skip dinner, have a big dessert." Drinking? Desserts? These are petty vices, and Argos isn't able to instill them with anything like the catharsis and joy or subtle complexity he so ably attaches to almighty Pop Music/Rock'n'Roll on the band's first two albums. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but this all has me pretty worried—if the whole album turns out to be as gutless as these tracks (recall that last album was first heralded with the smashing "Nag Nag Nag Nag"), I'm going to crestfallen. You hear me, Argos? CRESTFALLEN!
"Alchoholics Unanimous" is available as streaming mp3 and video at Pitchfork; "Just Desserts" is available via RCRD LBL

There’s always the unrealistic hope that once a band signs on to a major label they’ll use their newfound money and power to make better art than they could have before. It hardly ever happens, but when it does, knowing that a band you believed in didn’t screw you over even though they had all the chances in the world is a great feeling. After seeing Mastodon at the Rockstar Mayhem tour last summer with Slipknot and Disturbed, even though they were an oasis of awesome in a barren desert of bullshit, I feared my days of praising the band were doomed to an end. Thankfully I couldn’t have been more wrong. Finagling a copy of their upcoming record has firmly planted an “I Still Love Mastodon” bumper sticker on my brain, and it’s going to be there for a while still. Crack the Skye is totally tits.
It’s hard classifying the new record in terms of genre. Everything the band has done before has been metal first and foremost, but their new record is a much more prog album than a metal one. It’s still quite heavy, but the heavy doesn’t seem to be the emphasis anymore. There are several vocal sections you can — and want to — sing (not scream) along to, and the album is packed with guitar melodies that triumphantly noodle into outer space. Then there’s the actual concept of the record. Drummer Brann Dailor explains it in this Billboard interview:
It's about a crippled young man who experiments with astral travel. He goes up into outer space, goes too close to the sun, gets his golden umbilical cord burned off, flies into a wormhole, is thrust into the spirit realm, has conversations with spirits about the fact that he's not really dead, and they decide to help him. They put him into a divination that's being performed by an early-20th-century Russian Orthodox sect called the Klisti, which Rasputin is part of. Knowing Rasputin is about to be murdered, they put the young boy's spirit inside of Rasputin. Rasputin goes to usurp the throne of the czar and is murdered by the Yusupovs, and the boy and Rasputin fly out of Rasputin's body up through the crack in the sky and head back. Rasputin gets him safely back into his body.
Ugh…drugs. On their upcoming tour the band will be playing Crack the Skye in it’s entirety. Seattle will get the pleasure April 22nd at Neumos, with Kylesa and Intronaut opening. Mastodon also hope to make a short film to accompany the record, a la The Wall.
Go to their Myspace to hear the single, “Divinations.” It’s one of the few instances where my favorite track off a record, especially a record full of long, indulgent prog tunes, is the three and a half minute radio single. But what can I say? This song has everything you could possibly want out of single: it’s catchy, it’s memorable, and it totally shreds. I hope mainstream rock radio plays the crap out of it, because it’s probably going to be the best major label rock single to be released all year. Crack the Skye will available in stores on March 24th.
Neko Case
Middle Cyclone
CD (Anti-)
Headline:
Sword-wielding Redhead Disrupts Traffic, Idle Drivers Everywhere Fall in Love
Harmonic 313
When Machines Exceed Human Intelligence
CD/LP (WARP)
Headline:
Record Industry Alarmed By Results That Robots Could Make Better Music Than Humans
The Monks
Early Years: 1964-1965
CD (Light in the Attic)
Headline:
Military Time Officially Renamed Monk Time by Bored German-stationed American G.I.'s
Cazals
What Of Our Future
CD - (Kitsune)
Headline:
Future British Tabloid Stars Make Mischief and Catchy, Easily Remixable Music
Strange Boys
Strange Boys And Girls Club
LP (In the Red)
Headline:
Singer of Austin-Based Garage Foursome Plagued by Constipation
Sunburned Hand Of The Man
Grand Tour Of Tunisia
2xLP+DVD (Three Lobed Recordings)
Headline:
Sunburned Hand Of The Man Tour Europe And Pool Merch Table Profits To Save American Economy
Watchmen
Original Soundtrack
CD/LP (Reprise)
Headline:
My Chemical Romance Makes Bad Versions Of Good Songs For Graphic Novel-based Motion Picture
Arvo Part
In Principio
CD (ECM)
Headline:
Minimalist Composer from Estonia Asked To Do All Soundtracks And Scores From Now On

Police Teeth
Real Size Monster Series 38:06
CD (Blood City)
Headline:
Police Teeth Party In Northern California, Write My Adolescent Theme Song
U2
No Line On The Horizon
CD/Deluxe CD/LP/Box (Interscope)
Headline:
U2 Saves The U.S. Economy By Donating Only a Fraction of What They Make In One Day
Other new releases making ripples in the news: Amon Amarth, Boozoo Bajou, Marianne Faithfull on LP, Raul Malo, Marissa Nadler, Aidan Moffat, Thin Lizzy, Whip, Revolting Cocks, & Hollywood Mon Amour Soundtrack.
Tonight at the Fusion Cafe (Downtown YMCA, 909 Fourth Ave), ON is celebrating the release of their new EPControl. The band features Jim Hesketh, formerly of local hardcore superstars Champion; Ceremony, Cruel Hand, Skin Like Iron, and Mind are also on the bill.
ON - "Vital Times"
You can listen to a couple new tracks via MySpace. The show's all-ages, it starts at 7 pm and costs $10 at the door.
(Thanks to Kevin for the tip.)

The self-titled debut from young New York foursome The Pains of Being Pure at Heart came out last month and somehow passed me by. This despite every indication that I would fall completely in love with the band—the precious, overly wordy name (from an unpublished children's story!), the fact that they're released on ace label Slumberland Records, the Smiths-meets-Cometbus album art. And, of course, the record is fantastic. It's perfectly realized indie-pop revivalism—the kind of stuff that, along with Vivian Girls and the rest of the current Slumberland roster, has had me using terms like "twee," "dream-pop," and "jangly" way too much and with maybe too much enthusiasm in the past year. I can't help it, though; too young to catch the first go-round of this stuff, introduced to it after the fact via '90s hold-outs Heavenly, I've been waiting for this sound to reach a revival for years. And it's finally here.
So, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart is ten tracks clocking in at a perfect 35 minutes (ie, an ideal average of 3:30 per), with titles like "Young Adult Friction," "This Love is Fucking Right!" (exclamation theirs), and "A Teenager in Love." Their songs are populated by soft, starry-eyed, misfit youths, indiscrete professors, and sleepy-headed lovers, all done up in alternately blurry and pinpoint portraiture (ie, the vague feelings of "Stay Alive" versus the sensory details of "Young Adult Friction": a "worn sweatshirt," "the dust and the microfiche" between the library stacks, "taking toffee with your vicodin").

Guitarist Kip Berman and keyboardist Peggy Wang provide male/female vocals so similarly fey and fainting as to be almost indistinguishable (in the best possible way), although Berman's singing does most of the work. He lays down just the slightest blanket of feedback under his strummed acoustic and electric guitars, which range from purely clean to just-so fuzzy to the occasional full-on wall of still careful reverb and distortion (as on final track "Gentle Sons"). Wang's softened keyboard/organ trills lend the songs bright undertones, occasionally straying just a bit into glassy '80s new wave sounds (the opening keys of both "Young Adult Friction" and the naggingly familiar "A Teenager in Love"). Alex Naidus' bass lines are nimble and bouyant; drummer Kurt Feldman's rhythms vary from up-tempo snare-rolling racket to as little as the steady lackadaisical shake of a tambourine, given the demands of the songs.
The album is stuffed with great songs, but my favorites right now are the ebullient, daydreaming "Come Saturday," the flirty "Young Adult Friction," the Vaselines-lite "This Love is Fucking Right!," and the lazy, cloud-gazing entreaty "Stay Alive." If we have any luck at all (and I have reason to believe we do), this band will be playing here in Seattle come summertime.

But I didn’t know about this gem a friend just brought to my attention: “We Could Be Flying” from the 1973 album Any Day Now, which I’ve never heard, damn it.
This video (embedding has been disabled) rules on many levels. First, Scott is one suave motherfucker. Second, his voice is burnished oak, in perfect equilibrium between Frank Sinatra and Leonard Cohen. Third, the levity of the video and the song is so out of character with Walker's latter-era work, which is some of the darkest and knottiest ever from a former pop star. Fourth, the cheesy flying sequence. Fifth, the fuzzed-out guitar solo. Sixth, Scott’s hair. Seventh, Walker’s inherently heavy moroseness prevails, even amid a party scene and a damned song about flying. He looks just thrilled to be there, right?
Okay—I now realize I need to get the man’s entire discography.
N.A.S.A., Staxx Brothers
(Nectar) N.A.S.A. are the fabulously well-connected L.A. duo of pro-skateboarder Ze Gonzales (aka DJ Zegon) and Sam Spiegel (aka Squeak E. Clean, aka brother of hot-shit director Spike Jonze). Their debut effort, The Spirit of Apollo, collects guest spots from a ridiculously long list of big names—Kanye West, David Byrne, Method Man, Santigold, M.I.A., Karen O, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Tom Waits, Kool Keith, Sizzla, Scarface, and on and on and on—and, well, doesn't do a whole lot with them. The productions range from wanly sunny funk to down-tempo breaks to stoned hiphop to Diplo-esque world-party electro, but few songs really stick. And while some guests turn out fine if unremarkable deliveries (M.I.A.'s hooks are piercing as ever), several seem squandered or painfully out of place (pity Waits's appearance here). Presumably, none of these famous friends are actually on tour with N.A.S.A., so expect to see a couple dudes just doing a DJ set. ERIC GRANDY
Also tonight: Paper Birds and Yr Heart Breaks (and deep-fried Twinkies) at Showbox Sodo! See all the rest of this evening's here.