
Heliocentric jazz avant-gardist Sun Ra was born on this day in 1914. Hallelujah!
You could spend this life and your next one trying to absorb all of Sun Ra’s mercurial music and not succeed—but what an exhilarating challenge you’ll feel in the effort. One day I hope to have the vast amounts of time and money needed to dive headlong into Sun Ra’s catalog and make some sort of sense of it all. I guess one could navigate his huge, labyrinthine canon on YouTube, but experiencing the twisted majesty of Ra’s work on computer speakers is far from optimal. But it’ll have to do for this post.
Most Robin Gibb obits/tributes start with the Bee Gees’ soundtrack for Saturday Night Fever, and, yeah, it’s an important cultural touchstone, but if Gibb—who died Sunday May 20 at age 62—deserves canonization, it’s for his contributions to Bee Gees’ 1st. Recorded in 1967, it was the Australian group’s third album (that’s how they did it Down Under), and it stands as one of the greatest rock LPs from that hot, hot year—right behind Love’s Forever Changes, 13th Floor Elevators’ Easter Everywhere, Pink Floyd's Piper at the Gates of Dawn, and Jimi Hendrix Experience’s Axis: Bold as Love.
1st is a sublime psychedelic-pop opus, dominated by Robin and brother Barry’s composing and singing skills. It’s one of those rare records that’s excellent from front to back in which you have a different favorite tune every time you listen to it. The album’s topped by the baroquely bizarre hit “Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You,” a regal, glorious tune punctuated by monks chanting in Latin and eerie, swirling Mellotron fugues. Other chart-scrapers included "Holiday," “New York Mining Disaster 1941” and “To Love Somebody,” the latter of which is a devastating, string-laden soul ballad that's been covered by hundreds, including Otis Redding, Nina Simone, and Leonard Cohen. “I Can’t See Nobody” is just as good as “To Love Somebody,” if not as popular.
Elsewhere, “In My Own Time,” which the Three O’Clock faithfully executed on their Sixteen Tambourines LP, is a rousing garage-psych nugget. “Craise Finton Kirk Royal Academy of Arts” and “Close Another Door” hark back, respectively, to the Kinks and Beatles’ more innocent pop times. “Cucumber Castle” is a subtly orchestral ballad of melancholy beauty. The trippy twosome of “Red Chair, Fade Away” and “I Close My Eyes” contain some of the most endearing melodies ever conceived.
Loads of baby boomers and Jann Wenner’s minions may violently disagree, but 1st is a more consistently enjoyable listening experience than Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band; for one thing, there's nothing as excruciating as "When I'm Sixty-Four" or "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" on 1st. It behooves you to get the double-disc expanded CD reissue with stereo and mono mixes and a bonus disc of previously unreleased tracks. (I assume you already have the vinyl, playa.)
Krautrock legends Can have loosed one of their previously unreleased songs, "Deadly Doris," from the forthcoming The Lost Tapes rarities collection, which comes out on Spoon/Mute June 19. "Deadly Doris"—which sounds like it could've slotted well on Monster Movie or Soundtracks—features Malcolm Mooney with his patented, barely hinged vocal attack and Can's urgent, motorik-rock thrusts. Man, even their outtakes kick the asses of most bands' masterpieces. I have the feeling that The Lost Tapes will further solidify my belief that Can were the greatest rock band ever (although I'm willing to entertain your arguments otherwise).
Read the press release—including full track listing for The Lost Tapes—after the cut.
Thrill Jockey Records is celebrating its 20th anniversary with a big reissue campaign of flagship band Tortoise's back catalog. You can pre-order Tortoise's 1996 post-rock classic Millions Now Living Will Never Die on vinyl (with a download card) here. Other titles slated to be reissued include Tortoise (July 24), It's All Around You (Aug. 21), TNT (Sept. 18), and Beacons of Ancestorship (Oct. 16). Tortoise are unusual in that they put out one of their best albums (Beacons of Ancestorship) almost 20 years into their existence. As I said in a 2010 overview of the band's highlights in The Stranger, "Tortoise are probably the most important American indie band going who've never sung a word and whose members' faces you wouldn't recognize."
Twenty-one years from their debut.
Oblivious to anorexic wallets, and not all that coincidentally in time for their Olympics finale.
But brilliantly extensive, adoringly compiled.
A celebration we're happy to belong to.
This track—brought to my attention by rap blogger supreme Noz—is insane. Cut by the obscure Log Cabin Crew (Murs, Radioinactive, Eligh, Scarub, Tom Slick, and others), “The Day I Put on My Uniform” contains Salvia-saliva’d verses delivered with auctioneer-on-amphetamines rapidity over a leisurely bass line from Pharoah Sanders’ “The Creator Has a Master Plan” and piddling Jiffy Pop popcorn beats: very anticon.-ventional. The discrepancy between the rappers’ tempos and the rhythm is vast and the track shouldn’t work, but it does. I’ve listened to this six times today and am still not sick of it. Somebody do us all a solid and transcribe these mad lyrics.
Dang. It's already Wednesday? Maybe you're having a shit week. Maybe you're just having a week, which means it's not the weekend. (I'm assuming you want it to be the weekend in this scenario.) Either way, I would like to introduce you to your good times time machine. Take a deep breath. There, there. Things are going to be all right.
Apropos of this, commenter Supreme Ruler Of The Universe gives us the beautiful gift of this:
Apropros of nothing, save for the fact that I recently played it at a DJ gig and was stunned once again over how goddamned infectious and mood-elevating it is, I want to put forth the opinion that the best Jackson 5/Jacksons song is “2-4-6-8.”
Of course, there is a lot of competition for this honor, as the J5 canon is loaded with gems. Some close contenders for my top spot include “Enjoy Yourself,” “Goin’ Back to Indiana,” “Get It Together,” “Skywriter,” “Time Explosion,” “Mama’s Pearl,” “Keep on Dancing,” “Can You Feel It,” and the obvious, obvious ones: “I Want You Back,” “"ABC," Never Can Say Goodbye,” and “The Love You Save,” But nothing surpasses “2-4-6-8” (which can be found on 1970's ABC LP) for sheer jump-through-the-ceiling euphoria. The sinuous vocal arrangement, the guitar squawk, the buoyant bass line, and Michael singing his tiny, pre-pubescent ass off—all of this culminates into something you can play for hours on end, and its sugar rush never wanes.
However, you may disagree. What is your favorite Jackson 5/Jacksons song? This may be the most important decision you make all hour.
Sitting in the “New Age” section of the Capitol Hill Half Price Books vinyl bins (as of 10:30 am today) is a super-clean copy of Vangelis’ 1978 LP Beaubourg; it’s going for the unprincely sum of $1.99. Beaubourg is one of the Greek composer’s most adventurous records; it’s not so much “new age” as it is a Xenakis-like excursion into bizarre dissonance and unpredictable dynamics. The prevalent mood is disturbing and eerie, but not in any overtly familiar way. Beaubourg is probably the last essential non-soundtrack album Vangelis made before heading off into more accessible, big-budget film scoring. (The awesome Hypothesis and The Dragon came out in 1978 and 1979, respectively, but both were recorded in 1971.)
If you don’t get Beaubourg, I’ll probably scoop it up as a backup for my other copy.
"The Left Banke is... in development of a Spring tour schedule." Perhaps this is brewing because "Walk Away Renee" is on the soundtrack to the new movie Joyful Noise? Hmm, a 2012 Left Banke show could be a fiasco... or it could be magical. Regardless, I'd probably change all my plans to see 'em.
With everyone from Swervedriver to fIREHOSE to your dad's old boogaloo combo reuniting, I got to thinking of bands I'd really like to see make a comeback... such as '90s Seattle space-rock group Hovercraft. I spilled my guts out about Hovercraft in this 2009 Line Out post, and I still mean every word. I still think they would have the special chemistry that made their two albums (Akathisia and Experiment Below), Hovercraft 10" EP, and live shows such profound mindfucks. Come back, Hovercraft, and play the next Escalator fest. Show these mofos how it's done.
Randy Welsh singer Tom Jones is slated to cover Howlin’ Wolf’s 1954 blues classic “Evil” for Jack White’s Third Man Records’ Blue series of singles. The B-side is Frankie Lane's "Jezebel," and the 7-inch is slated to come out March 5.
Surely, Jones will give it his trademark restrained delivery (cough). I’m genuinely intrigued. However, the best cover version I’ve heard of “Evil” —of which there have been many—was done by Monster Magnet in 1992. Cactus' rendition is fire-and-brimstone-ily tough, too. Wolf's electrified take on "Evil," though, is the definitive version, blues purists be damned.
And some people still haven't recovered from the great guitarist/vocalist's tragically early passing in a van accident on Dec. 22, 1985. Boon's death at age 27 ended Minutemen's reign as one of the American underground's most important and exciting bands.
At their best (Double Nickels on the Dime, What Makes a Man Start Fires?), Minutemen sounded like a fearless, fearsome union of the Pop Group and Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band—all highly torqued rhythms, rusty, stabbing guitar, spazz-jazz bass, and ruggedly poetic lyrics. Both live and on record, they were a punk-funk tornado of brilliance. I was lucky enough to catch Minutemen live in ’85 at a Detroit club called Traxx (Laughing Hyenas and Die Kreuzen opened). D. Boon was a whirlwind of energy; he moved with surprising agility for a chubby dude. His early exit has been a huge blow to American music. RIP, D. Boon.

Here's a handy collection of links to all of the Christmas flexi discs issued by the Beatles. Since becoming a Fab Four fanatic, these gems have been far and away my favorite bits of holiday listening. These floppy records were issued to members of the Beatles official fan club in the UK & the USA, with a compilation LP issued in 1970.
Each record is a time marker in the Beatles' career, starting out humble and cheeky, progressing through the druggy art phase, and ending with a heady John + Yoko love fest. The 3:50 mark of the 1969 record finds them trudging through leaves, mumbling about peace. As Yoko trails off into some kind of mind train, Lennon starts singing "Good King Wenceslas," obviously annoyed. It's kind of wonderful.
If you're a Beatles fan and you've never heard these, you're in for a treat. There are tons of great gags, song snippets, and out-takes. My favorite has always been the 1966 edition, a pantomime on record featuring two elderly Scotsmen munching on a rare cheese and later, Podgy the Bear and Jasper. Oh, so great.
Links below! Happy holidays, Line-Outsters!
Via The NJ Undergropund:
The Frank Zappa-produced Bat Chain Puller, the 1976 album by Captain Beefheart (aka Don Van Vliet, 1941-2010) and the Magic Band that later morphed into 1978's semi-rerecorded Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller), will finally be released Jan. 15 by Barfko-Swill, the imprint of the Zappa Family Trust.
Bat Chain Puller's original 12 tracks, which have circulated unofficially for many years, will be accompanied by three bonus songs. I love Shiny Beast and think it's one of Beefheart's best LPs, but as a total Van Vliet fanboy, it will be great to experience the original versions and the extras as they were meant to be heard.
The Beach Boys are reuniting, so it might be an opportune time to ponder this important subject. I will go on record, again, as saying that the Beach Boys’ best song is “Feel Flows,” with “’Til I Die” a close second (both appear on the sporadically brilliant 1971 LP Surf’s Up). “Good Vibrations”—sorry for the obviousness—comes in at a close third. I spilled a lot of ink about “Feel Flows” in this blog post at my old job in Orange County. Every word in it is true—especially "goosebumpage."
However, I’m fully aware that a lot of you have tragically flawed different views on this topic. Please list your favorite Beach Boys song in comments and name your favorite Wilson brother, if you’re so inclined. (Mine’s Dennis, because he had the raddest beard.)

German kosmische-musik guitarist Manuel Göttsching (Ash Ra Tempel/Ashra) recorded E2-E4 30 years ago this month, and it's kind of a big deal. The 58-minute LP (which didn't see release until 1984) can stake a legitimate claim to being the forerunner of a certain strain of house music that reels in laid-back Ibiza vibes and subliminally Latin rhythms into its trance-inducing, euphoria-enabling composition. It became a foundational work for many elite producers, including Carl Craig, Sueño Latino, and LCD Soundsystem, as well as for neo-ambient explorers such as Emeralds and Oneohtrix Point Never.
The Wire magazine marked the occasion by putting Göttsching on the cover of its December 2011 issue. (To read Keith Moliné's story, you have to go to a shop and buy a copy of the mag, as it's not online. The Wire's hardcore that way.) As stated earlier this year on Line Out, Göttsching has made available the Ash Ra Tempel back catalog, albeit at a fairly exorbitant price.
I'm in a good mood today, which means it's a good time to listen to sad tunes. (Few things are more tasteless than listening to happy music when you are happy.) And one of my favorite sad tunes of all time is "Her Town Too."