There’s not enough space in the world to praise the efforts and successes of Giancarlo Erra. If you hit the tag “Nosound” on this post, you’ll see what I mean. We write about Erra a lot, as he never is uninteresting.
The new direction of Nosound sounds wonderful (as described in his post, below), and I’m more than eager to see where Erra takes the band.
Over the last several years, he has progressed from a rather Floydian vision to a rather Mark Hollis-ian vision of music. I’m guessing–but I do not know–that he’s moving toward an even more minimalist vision, perhaps something akin to Arvo Part.
The news of the death of Dolores O’Riordan, singer and songwriter for The Cranberries, is both deeply saddening and quite shocking, given that O’Riordan was just 46 years old. The band has released a statement saying:
The lead singer with the Irish band The Cranberries, was in London for a short recording session. No further details are available at this time. Family members are devastated to hear the breaking news and have requested privacy at this very difficult time.
There is a little irony that Fleetwood Mac hit superstardom ten years into its existence, having jettisoned numerous guitar heroes — including the group’s founder, the inimitable and brilliant Peter Green — and did so as a West Coast soft rock band rather than the grimy British hard blues act that inspired contemporaries and was absolutely formative for Jimmy Page in his vision of Led Zeppelin. By 1975, beleaguered and getting old in the rock and roll tooth, and years since it had anything approaching a hit, the band made a last ditch, daring sea change that saw them bring on the largely unknown singer-songwriting couple Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham, who radically reshaped Fleetwood Mac’s sound. 1975’s Fleetwood Mac was their breakthrough, while 1977’s Rumours proved the formula worked, as Nicks and Buckingham brought a finesse of songcraft sorely missing since Peter Green left the band. More than this, though, the two Americans integrated, rather than overlayed, their sound on Fleetwood Mac. Onstage, Nicks became Green’s “Black Magic Woman” incarnate, a gypsy witch with a unique vocal power (and a sexual presence that didn’t hurt the band’s progress), while Buckingham, a gifted, complete guitarist, could play lines summoning the group’s bluesy manalishi ghosts while feeding the ravenous pop machine he was building.
The last song on Rumours, Nicks’ “Gold Dust Woman” is an ode to coke, interwoven with the legendary California cartoon of disintegrating relationships and romantic triangles making up Fleetwood Mac’s lore. It completes side two of the LP as assuredly as “The Chain” begins it, the two songs dancing at the edges of Peter Green’s blues terrors, advancing into soft rock classic dark jazz torches like “Lush Life” while setting the stage for future L.A. creatures like “Babylon Sisters.” Like the LP it finishes, the song is a dark star, a downer completing one of the unlikeliest of pop albums. “Rock on, gold dust woman.”
soundstreamsunday presents one song or live set by an artist each week, and in theory wants to be an infinite linear mix tape where the songs relate and progress as a whole. For the complete playlist, go here:soundstreamsunday archive and playlist, or check related articles by clicking on”soundstreamsunday” in the tags section.
(1) “Land Animal” by Bent Knee: One of my favorite albums of 2017, regardless of genre, classification, categorization, etc. As I marveled in my mini-review for Progarchy: “the whole of Bent Knee is, again, hard to describe, a mixture of orchestral-ish passages, raw but tight guitar, polyrhythmic craziness, classically-imbued moments of open tenderness, angst-packed explosions, and much more.” Don’t miss it.
(2) “In Contact” by Caligula’s Horse: The lads from Down Under rarely disappoint, and this powerful, masterful album catches them at the height of their powers. As I wrote in my fairly detailed Progarchy review: “In Contact proves the band is incapable of producing anything less than exceptional, and it is arguably their best work to date.”
(3) “Malina” by Leprous: More pop-ish and less overtly prog-ish than previous releases, this is a lean, catchy, and often anthemic album that still packs plenty of heavy punch while clearly reaching out to a wider audience. Great driving music!
(4) “The Source” by Aryeon: A wild, over-the-top sprawl of an album filled with more hooks than a deluxe fishing kit, equalled only by the number of singers (dozens? hundreds?). Considering the dystopian, apocalyptic nature of the story and lyrics, this is simply aural fun at its best. Ear candy deluxe!
NPR has a preview of the new album coming January 19 from They Might Be Giants:
Flansburgh and Linnell wrap everything in radiantly bubbly power pop, and fuzz-guitar punk, and Beach Boys vocal-harmony flourishes. I Like Fun is a series of lugubrious songs about death, dismemberment and other unfortunate events dressed up for a Friday night joy ride. Of the several missing limbs discussed in these songs, the most disorienting comes just after the joyous Jackson 5-style guitar introduction to “Push Back The Hands:” “You would give your right arm to go back to when you had a right arm.”
Likewise, TMBG look at death from all sides. “I Left My Body” employs a sanguine, Kinks-ish tone to tell of a departure, and it all seems fairly conventional until the line about how “they’re gonna tow you if they think you’re abandoned.” It’s the parking authority as the essence of fear, even in death’s aftermath.
It’s the same vaguely absurd idea-juxtaposition that They Might Be Giants have always dished, just lifted into a loftier place — song-nerdism taken to rococo extremes. When you consider all the songs that these two people have written, it’s downright inspiring to hear them still out there trawling for those divine (and increasingly elusive) moments of pop bliss.
It’s already been a tough week in metal, with the passing of both Chris Tsangarides and Iron Man’s Alfred Morris III, but now I’m sad to report that Motörhead/Fastway guitar hero “Fast” Eddie Clarke has passed away aged 67 following a battle with pneumonia. Clarke was the last surviving member of the classic Motörhead lineup […]
There is music that I can’t relate to. Sometimes it’s because the song is plainly stupid, trite, or obnoxious that I just wish it would be sent into the sun. It’s like your friend who posts way too much personal stuff on Facebook, you just want to scream “Stop”. Then, there is an even more perverse music, a music that speaks like a man half-way through a Xanax withdrawal, a music that both baffles the mind and produces a near awkward laughter in the listener. This is the music of lunatics, music that I would say (in the most professional of instances of course) has gone “completely bananas”.
And here we are with just an album, The Mercy Stone’s debut experimentation Ghettoblaster. An album I am sure my closest friends are sick of hearing and hearing about in the last coupe of weeks, yet it took me some time to write about it because — life.
If you are someone who actually was alive to see the prog spectacle of the ‘70s you may remember the slightly nerdy King Crimson or even the lord dorkdom of the cape wearing Yes. While there are many genuinely cringe worthy moments from those bands nothing — and until I can be proven wrong I genuinely mean NOTHING compares to the awkward vibe you get from Ghettoblaster.
The Mercy Stone is a new project; it’s been around for a few years and was assembled by composer and guitarist Scott Grady — who has a master’s degree in music composition — and who assembled a 12-piece group to “to put his composition chops to work within a project that would have the substance and sophistication fitting for a contemporary-classical concert stage as well as the accessibility that would be palatable to rock audiences.” Going simply-said for an extraordinary amalgam of Classical Music, Jazz and Rock, the group presents a large body of work with their full-length debut Ghettoblaster. Large as in bringing together Stravinsky, Led Zeppelin, Nirvana, Radiohead, Bach, Nine Inch Nails, Pink Floyd, to name but a few.
The music on Ghettoblaster is very well composed and performed. Grady tends to pull together a strong cast of performers for his musical circus act. These fine tunes tend to be something to marvel at. It is this dichotomy that provides more of the head scratching moments. The album progresses in a peculiar, but fairly typical fashion during the majority of its run time. You might find the music endearing and charming as it blends rock, jazz, and classical qualities.
The ‘70s were a glorious period in music because people were getting paid way too much money to do all sorts of crazy projects, and even though some of the end results were complete disasters there was a sincerity to them. There was no sense of irony or pretentiousness in the attitudes of the musicians, they just wanted to make weird and complicated music. With Ghettoblaster, this ensemble does exactly that. The Mercy Stone are driven by the love of music, and it pays back — maybe not filling their pockets, but rather something on a higher, more spiritual level. Highly recommended.
Oh yeah man, Dorothy is coming to town! Don’t wanna miss this. Gonna be a great show! Check out her 2016 album ROCKISDEAD. Last year, I found out it makes for a great playlist pairing with Hobosexual’s Monolith. Rock on, chillun’. See you in the VIP!
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There is a little irony that Fleetwood Mac hit superstardom ten years into its existence, having jettisoned numerous guitar heroes — including the group’s founder, the inimitable and brilliant Peter Green — and did so as a West Coast soft rock band rather than the grimy British hard blues act that inspired contemporaries and was absolutely formative for Jimmy Page in his vision of 
