12.17.2023
Good evening,
This is Beach Sloth. Below are this week’s albums:
Barbara Moore – Vocal Shades and Tones
Barbara Moore is a rock and rap royalty who remains criminally unknown, and “Vocal Shades and Tones” proves it. Her upbringing by Arthur Birkby (a jazz musician) and classical education at St. Paul’s School for Girls resulted in her becoming a member of The Ladybirds, regulars on Top of Pops in the 1960s, and it sounds every bit the case. Here’s the rock royalty side of things. She sang with Jimi Hendrix when he performed “Hey Joe.” That would not be her only interaction with Jimi. Upon Jimi Hendrix, Barbare Moore bequeathed a shepherd’s pie to him when he looked hungry in the BBC canteen, by far the most 1960s British sentence I will ever write in my entire life. She also collaborated with Elton John Dudley Moore and led the Barbara Moore Singers (interestingly, the latter was named after her). She also contributed to the opening bars of The Saint theme song.
That would not be the last theme she’d work on. She retooled Alan Freeman’s Pick of the Pops Theme. Returning to the BBC (though sadly, not the shepherd’s pie), she wrote the BBC Theme Tune in 1971. Quite an accomplished arranger, she became one of the first female composers to break into the music industry, which was highly male-centric at the time. This deeper move into the commercial side of things, on the arrangement side, led her to create “Vocal Shades And Tones” for the library music label Music De Wolfe. Music De Wolfe originated the library music genre, where the music is owned by the label and licensed to various media outlets – TV, movies, radio, etc. So, the real trick is that she had to compose music that evoked mood without major chord and tempo changes. Despite these extreme limitations, she creates something unique.
All that background in vocal studies results in some incredible vocal harmonies, regardless of which genre she’s going for. So, you have jazz, Bossa Nova, light psychedelic, funk, gospel, soul, and pop. While listening to it, you get an excellent cross-section of all things late 60s / early 70s. Given how much work she did during this time, it makes sense how accurately it captures much of the sound and the general atmosphere. On the West Coast side of things is the pure earworm of “Fly Away,” which sounds exquisite. Everything here has an incredible conversational quality amongst all the vocalists and has a sun-kissed demeanor. The parallels to the Beach Boys feel undeniable, and it is a bit of a washed-out happiness that feels life-affirming.
“Very Fine Fellow” sounds like the Rosetta Stone for all of Mark Mothersbaugh’s Wes Anderson soundtrack work. There’s the pointed quirk with how the hollow percussion punctuates their wordless vocals. Even the piano that occasionally injects its two cents feels much needed. Buildup-wise, too, it feels like a dead ringer, as the melody has this depth. When the song switches over to a jazzier kick, allowing the bass the right level of emotional cadence gives the work that further highlights strength. I mean, by the time the song wraps up and has its final few moments, it is precisely how the end of a significant scene would probably end. The fact that Wes Anderson has not yet used this piece in any of his movies feels like a missed opportunity. “Take Off” sounds like Walter Wanderley on that organ, right down to the level of playfulness and groove that the song embraces fully.
Hip-hop has appreciated this album for a long time. Don’t believe me – original LP copies cost over $1,000 if that doesn’t indicate the sampling from this pristine album. Among the individuals who have sampled it include Redman on “Do What Ya Feel” and Madvillian on “America’s Most Blunted,” with these being the ones I could track down. I don’t have “crate-digger” levels of cash and haven’t listened to every album in existence (yet), but there are plenty more samples to be wrung from this gem. This is a mind-meltingly good album that can be respected by lovers of pop music, hi-fi set owners, crate diggers, and a vast audience that hits every possible spot.
LIL GIN – JUNTS WE CHOKE II
For sixteen minutes’ worth of music, LIL GIN manages to create a lot with “JUNTS WE CHOKE II.” There is no explanation of why it was a sequel to what the original one was, and that’s perfectly fine. It’s a rare tape; owning an original copy can sell it for up to $350. Many reasons are behind this price tag – the quality of the four tracks, the fact that three out of four of them only appear on this release (Shake Junt being featured on LIL GIN’s debut album “Tha Surpents Step Son”), a rare appearance by Carmike and Lil’ Buck, and generally getting to see what happens with a middle schooler starts rapping. LIL GIN started rapping when he was twelve, and on this release, he’s thirteen, so it is wild. Plus, on top of all of that, the origins of some of Three 6 Mafia are explored with Koopsta Knicca and D.J. Paul. It is a lot to process and honestly portrays the generally cryptic vibe of early 90s Memphis rap, which was a whole thing (it still is).
Bass oscillates throughout Skinny Pimp’s “Pimp Shit.” The song has a duality, going for the gorgeous sample alongside the raw aesthetics of the drum and bass. Although “Shake Junt” is available elsewhere, this was its first appearance. “Shake Junt” has a lot of influence, far outside rap. A skateboarding hard goods and lifestyle brand is named after this track as an overall homage to the Memphis rap scene. You can also hear LIL GIN on this track; he’s the younger voice. Skinny Pimp is the older voice. Outside of the verses, DJ Paul’s contribution, the record scratches (can those come back, please) among the upbeat quality, the whole thing rules. With “Shake Junt,” this became a strip club anthem. Going into the questionable, LIL GIN (who, keep in mind, was thirteen) got into strip clubs by saying he was a midget, and it somehow worked. Individuals worried about LIL GIN; he’s doing well now – he’s married and has four kids.
Gimi Sum Productions released this as their third-ever release. After a period of relative busyness in the 90s, the releases started getting more and more spaced out. Only in the past few years since 2021 have they begun a reissue campaign, mostly likely heavily related to the Memphis Rap Sigils urban myth, which, in fairness, is a fascinating little rabbit hole and one that particularly celebrates the unique quality of what Memphis was like in the early 90s. For a short, abbreviated version, an individual on 4chan stated that several tapes of Memphis Rap were made with actual murder audios. This rumor, which is 100% not based on fact, started in Europe during Memphis rap’s first “revival era” and has been making the rounds among internet-dwellers for quite some time. Given the general eeriness of the Memphis rap style, the sampling, lo-fi quality, and subject matter, it makes sense why people would be inclined to believe it. While this release by LIL GIN is not considered part of the Memphis Rap Sigil, it retains many lo-fi aesthetics and emphasizes a murkier, more violent-oriented style. It is interesting to see the number of people on this tape, how they turned out, and how they even seem to bump into each other occasionally (DJ Paul and LIL GIN ran into each other in 2015, and DJ Paul treated him kindly) again proving that the Memphis 90s rap scene was a lot more tight-knit and supportive than it is given credit for.
DJ 0.000001 - Recombinant Shangaan Mixtape
Suitable for the head and good for the heart, DJ 0.000001 goes for the joyous on the “Recombinant Shangaan Mixtape.” DJ 0.000001 represents the top tier of the recombinant genes of Shangaan electro remixes. These showcase musicians who use breakneck speeds (190 BPM is breakneck). It is a respectful series of remixes based on the now legendary Shangaan Electro straight out of Limpopo in South Africa. Roughly thirteen years ago, this genre received its first wide-scale introduction to the world thanks to Honest Jon’s in 2010, and the attention placed on it has only grown since. Honestly, it is rather nice to have speed be of the essence, and the fact that people dance to this indicates that whatever workout mix you have pales in comparison to this life-affirming sound.
The record is split into two sides, reminiscent of the classic dual-sided cassette mixtape. A sense of nostalgia adds to the world’s appeal, as does the sheer number of artists remixed within it. With quite a range of musicians from 2015 to 2022, the sounds do a great job of popping off as beats bounce off the walls. One can virtually feel the sheer level of energy this music produces, from the maddening tempos to the sun-drenched melodies within. Part of the happiness within the sound comes from the careful merging of melody and beat, sort of an Autechre if they received sunlight instead of residing in the perpetually gloomy, overcast, and economically depressed Manchester.
Behind the actual remix is DJ 0.000001, best known as the deep house producer the Mole. He has his fingers in an awful lot of pies. Outside of this project and his deep house project, he works alongside David Liebe (of Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!) fame. Generally, he keeps himself busy with about a dozen different other aliases. The reason the pacing feels so soothing here (particularly on Side B, where the inspirational edge takes over) is due in part to this practice in a wide variety of different styles, resulting in an approach that pays homage to the original artists while recombining them into this extraordinary kaleidoscopic rush of color. In short, this is a lot of fun.
Bad Trips – Ridgewood Ayahuasca
Bad Trips creates one of the most excellent album titles with the incredibly named “Ridgewood Ayahuasca.” The largest concentration of Eastern European Grandparents outside of Eastern Europe (Ridgewood) do ayahuasca and tap into their powers for extreme criticism to transcend their usual critical ways to achieve enlightenment through an unbeknownst power – praise. The album goes for a dripping, acidic tenor. So many different instruments come into the mix, and it has a nice balance between an old-school, modular sound alongside a dirty, grimy; it lives in New York City’s most underrated borough and is unapologetically proud of that fact, lo-fi rock ethos.
The level of badass Babushka vibes is outstanding within this. I know I keep harping upon that, but there is an inherent crankiness about the atmosphere that is a pleasure to hear. Andy Borsz, David Drucker, and Konrad Kamm may sometimes test the listener’s patience with their drone work, but the slow and steady buildup is essential to get the full effect. Nor do they mind having a more minimal take, particularly on the first two tracks. These two openers incorporate Rod Morelli’s L.I.E.S. aesthetic, allowing for the filthiness he trades in to be a key component of their overall sound. To show how weird L.I.E.S. can be, NPR glowingly refers to the record label as “Music For Shut-Ins.” In fact, for “Under the Blanket,” the brittle minimalism feels like it is about to go into outright noise, excluding the singular deep-metallic industrial echo that is the kindest part of the piece.
With those first two songs taking a purely electronic stance, things shift on “Witch Bureaucrat,” seemingly allowing elements to descend into the messy, noisy abyss. This leads to the title track, which is by far the highlight. The tempos are slowed down beyond all reasonable degrees, with the drums and bass giving it a drone doom aesthetic. Fried, gauzy noises reside in the background like a horrible nightmare of shoegaze meets psychedelic. Parts become beautiful in certain moments, and the extended, elongated gestures give it a sense of enormity. Rhythm is of the essence, and it has this floating-in-midair quality halfway through as the drumming becomes more expressive. By the song’s finale, everything reaches this fevered stance, allowing for the first release of all that tension that has built up over the past twenty-plus minutes. The final two tracks are short and relatively poppy, especially when compared to what came before.
Released by the Los Angeles-based “Already Dead Records,” I appreciate how this album at least does not overly glamorize the New York City I grew up in. It is nasty, dirty, rude, offensive, and hard to follow, yet intriguing for unknown reasons, capturing the spirit of my hometown with justice.
Various Artists – 101 Meksikanska
101 Meksikanska presents a part of cultural cross-pollination I previously did not know existed. A lot of context is needed to explain how this happened, as this is perhaps the most thorough compilation of Yu-Mex (Yugoslav Mexican) music from the 50s and 60s. Getting the original albums of these artists proved to be incredibly difficult, and I could not find a single one despite my most diligent efforts, so this was the closest I could get to a proper exploration of the genre, which was compiled and released in 2011 by Croatia Records. Yes, we are going to get deep into this one.
Yugoslavia – read about it. Fascinating country in the southern Balkans. They contained multitudes of ethnicities. I could name them all here, but they each have their distinctive country today. It is a fascinating history, but the part we are concerned with for this review is the latter part of Yugoslavia when it stopped being a kingdom and became a communist republic. Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia for almost the entirety of the communist republic’s life before the Yugoslavian wars in the 90s. Immediately after the end of World War II, Yugoslavia was in the USSR’s sphere and, thus, received all media through it – music, movies, etc. Stalin and Tito famously did not get along, not even remotely. One might attribute this to ideological differences, but they were dramatically different people with different goals. Eventually, after the two fell out (which was perhaps inevitable), Yugoslavia looked for other films to import, as Soviet movies were banned.
Due to Tito being a communist in the late 40s/early 50s, American movies were not considered revolutionary enough. One country that fit the bill was part of the non-aligned movement and was considered ideologically - Mexico. According to Tito, these movies were worth importing. In the Yugoslavian culture from the 50s to 60s, Mexico was the epitome of cool thanks to its good movies and music. Yugoslavians began to play traditional Mexican music with a distinctive Balkan flair. Audiences in Yugoslavia connected deeply with the Mexican films that depicted the Mexican Revolution, establishing their parallels with their partisan struggles in World War II. How deep did this affection grow? Yugoslavian bands played Mariachi and Guajira, even donning sombreros in the act. Belgrade established an embassy in Mexico City, and vice versa. Years later, long after Yugoslavia ceased to exist as a country, a Mexican non-profit traveled across the Balkans to indulge in Yugonostalgia.
With all this historical context out of the way, the four-disc set does a fantastic job of paying homage to the Mexican Revolutionaries depicted in those early movies. Sometimes, the singers even sing in Spanish, though for the most part, this is sung in the native Serbo-Croatian. The romantic leanings of the songs appear throughout, and there is a definite sincerity with how they do things. Much of the sound has this sense of longing about it. Besides incorporating the Mexican genres, elements of the music also have their distinctive Balkan swing on the sound. Given how essential this was for millions of people in the Balkans, it is perhaps surprising that Beirut never bothered to mine this style for his inspiration. The songs here adhere firmly to the pop format and sometimes draw from a world long since ended. Hearing the genuine kindred spirits between two societies that, on the surface, have little in common in literally different hemispheres is heartwarming. These are quite pretty lyrics, a time capsule in music form.
Yo La Tengo – This Stupid World
I could introduce Yo La Tengo, but if you’re reading this, you are probably already aware of them. They’ve become a virtual indie rock institution around the same time as Sonic Youth, almost founded at the exact time. Unlike Sonic Youth, they still exist and continue to put out music. Throughout their long, storied career, they started Hoboken’s slow descent away from the rest of New Jersey, and now, in the excellent year of 2023 of our Lord, it is easier for a Hoboken resident to visit downtown Manhattan than the rest of New Jersey, as it very well should be.
The number of genres they draw from are numerous, but indie rock is standard fare. Usually, they go for the mellow, relatively subdued. Which is fine; they’ve carved out a nice niche for themselves. My favorites of Yo La Tengo tend to be the outliers of their discography when they take a chance and do things differently. Given they’ve been around for about the median age of the average American, it is unsurprising that they strictly adhere to what works. By this same token, they also demand attention when they go outside their comfort zone to do something wild. For me, the last album of theirs I adored was “The Sounds Of The Sounds Of Science,” a lovely litany of purely instrumental songs devoted to Sea Urchins, Shrimp, and Jellyfish. Interestingly, that album feels unusually impactful for me, as their guitar work is mellow, the songs are very long, and the cinematic tenor has a great appeal. I’d strongly recommend to anybody interested in the soothing side of the rock to check it out, as it is well done.
Here Yo La Tengo sounds a bit pissed off, and I appreciate that. They’ve spent their entire lives living in New Jersey; they should be allowed to be a bit pissed off. It’s okay. Given how soft their voices are, there’s a catharsis when they get agitated at the state of the world. It is like they are right there with you, livid at everything. When Yo La Tengo gets upset, it is like somebody who has truly lost it, not raising their voice, and somehow that is more intense than actual yelling. Sure, many bands try to tap into a sense of rage, but it can feel overdone, like pandering. Considering how incredibly calm Yo La Tengo typically is, if you even upset them, then the world is messed up, or, as they phrase it, stupid.
One of my favorite things, dissonance, is everywhere here. They are a tasteful band, so the dissonance is tastefully done. With tracks like “Tonight’s Episode,” the guitars have a gnarled, twisted vision. A significant update of their sound comes with the Krautrock-like driving rhythms they employ. In certain moments, they even conjure up the cryptic energy of Oneida’s work; that’s how adventurous it gets in moments. It feels lovely to see them let loose and do something different, out of the ordinary. Given the harshness of a few of these tracks (by their standards), they must have been stewing on things for a while, so it feels relieving to hear them let it out. For a band known for a sleepy disposition, for them to wake up, that’s a pretty big thing.
The sequencing of the album has this perfect tenor. When they are about to get too dark, they pull back, offering some comfort for weary ears. Yo La Tengo has been doing this longer than the Simpsons have been on the air, so seeing them try something new so profound into their career is fantastic, and they add a new dimension to their already diverse repertoire. On a related note, these will probably be a blast to see live.
DAT Politics – Substage
DAT Politics creates something not particularly good with “Substage.” Gone is their youthful whimsy possessed in spades. Since “No Void,” they’ve been in a bit of a rut. It is hard to create their gleeful, candy-coated pop-noise confections when the world can seem so dark. It feels a bit much when they try to rekindle their old successes, like they are trying too hard, and it feels forced. However, unlike “No Void,” there are some redeemable moments here, including a few turns I will admit I did not expect them to make.
Claude Pailliot and Gaëtan Collet’s roots began with Tone Rec, their post-rock outfit of the late 90s. Here, they take aspects of that rock-oriented experimentation and utilize them effectively during the successful bits of the album, on the optimistic open “Alphabeta,” which has a surprisingly catchy krautrock-type groove that drives the song along. Best of all, they capture that childlike sense of wonder that used to come quickly to them. On the reverse side, they nail the heavier impulses on the Swayzak-inspired electro-dirtiness of “Silex.” Particularly on this later track, they seem to redeem themselves, as this shows what a more haunted, evil-sounding DAT Politics could sound like.
Sadly, these moments are few and mainly limited to those two pieces. For the rest of the album, it feels uninspired and too glossy. One of the best things about the group is their willingness to include an ungodly amount of noise, like Merzbow trying to cover the Sesame Street soundtrack and succeeding in that endeavor. Unfortunately, DAT Politics polished things way too much, strayed too far away from their roots, and instead got too close to the pop sun gods who burned them badly in this effort.
All, this is an improvement from 2015’s “No Void” and brings them a bit closer to that live wild experience they are legendary for. Here’s hoping that perhaps they build off the more driving aspects of the sound, rediscover their joy, and unleash it once more upon the world.
Hannah Diamond – Picture Perfect
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