Listening to Carl Stone’s second compilation for the excellent archival label Unseen Worlds, it’s not uncommon to find yourself completely lost in a web of sounds. It’s not necessarily a disorienting feeling. Instead, it’s kind of like wading into a cool pool. It’s only once you’re all the way in that the temperature feels right. Utilizing samplers and armed with a keen ear, Stone’s pieces, like 1993’s languid and majestic “Banteay Srey” and 1988’s sprightly “Sonali,” fall together in surprising ways; the moods and sensations shift, but the expansive feeling always remains.

Electronic Music from the Eighties and Nineties is the sequel to the 2016 compilation Music from the Seventies and Eighties, and it documents Stone’s shift into more tranquil waters. Recorded between 1983-1993, right as approaches similar to Stone’s avant-garde layering and sampling were being explored in the mainstream via hip-hop, the collection presents a unified vision comprised of disparate sources — Mozart melodies, flutes, a Burundi children’s song — brought together in a way that draws an elegant line connecting Steve Reich’s chopped and looped epics to Robert Fripp’s swelling Frippertronics suites to William Basinski’s The Disintegration Loops. We caught up with Stone from his home in Japan to discuss the music gathered here and his ever-evolving process.

Aquarium Drunkard: What initially brought you out to Japan? How long have you been out there full time?

Carl Stone: Since 2001. I first came to Japan in 1984 to perform a piece. I applied for and got a grant to live in Japan for about six months from the Asian Cultural Council. That was in 88-89, and that led to a lot of subsequent opportunities. In 2001, I was over and I got headhunted by a someone at [Chukyo University] who was looking to fill a slot they had vacant. I’d never really thought about teaching before. I’d visited many times and I liked Japan, but I never thought that I’d live there. But they made me a decent offer and provided the kind of stability and I said, “Why not, let’s do it.” I’ve been here ever since.

AD: How often do you get back to the states?

Carl Stones: Two or three times a year, minimum. I haven’t cut my ties. I have a lot of friends and family and I keep an apartment in Los Angeles as a sort of pied-à-terre for me when I go back.

AD: You’ve made extensive field recordings of urban spaces in Japan. Have you done similar stuff in American cities?

Carl Stone: I have some material I’ve recorded in the US that’s made it into a composition or two, but I haven’t for the most part. The Tokyo soundscape is really fascinating. It’s part of the reason I really enjoy living here. It’s a city with a lot of very characteristic sounds you can’t hear anywhere else. What’s the soundscape of New York really? If you were to take the sound of the traffic out, the whole thing would collapse. With a place like Tokyo, there’s so much more there.


Our weekly two hour show on SIRIUS/XMU, channel 35, can now be heard every Wednesday at 7pm PST with an encore broadcasts on-demand via the SIRIUS/XM app.

SIRIUS 530: Sir Richard Bishop – Essaouira ++ Adanowsky – Me siento solo ++ Mind Over Mirrors – Lanterns on the Beach ++ Jack Logan – Shrunken Head ++ Vic Chesnutt & Liz Durrett – Somewhere ++ Brute – Morally Challenged ++ Smoke – The Trip ++ Leonard Cohen – Is This What You Wanted ++ Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Into My Arms ++ Ephram Carter & His Fife And Drum Band – Sorrow, Come Pass Me Around ++ Kevin Morby – City Music ++ Tom Waits – Tango ’Til They’re Sore ++ Tom Waits – Hang Down Your Head ++ Tom Waits – ‘Ol 55 ++ John Cale – Barracuda ++ Arthur Russell – I Couldn’t Say It To Your Face ++ Sam Amidon – Juma Mountain ++ Father John Misty & Phosphorescent – I Would Love You ++ Chris Cohen – Torrey Pine ++ Cass McCombs – Bum Bum Bum ++ Sam Evian – Health Machine ++ Sam Evian – You Know More Than I Know (John Cale) ++ Sam Evian – Unknown Legend (Neil Young) ++ Night Shop – The One I Love ++ Omni – Confessional ++ The Babies – Get Lost ++ Cotton Jones – Silver Piano Man ++ The Duchess & The Duke – Living This Life ++ John Cale – Cable Hogue

*You can listen, for free, online with the SIRIUS three day trial — just submit an email address and they will send you a password.


Los Angeles: Tonight, Aquarium Drunkard presents TALK SHOW, an intimate series of conversations centered around the worlds of music, art, film and beyond. Our third guest in the series is David Weinberg, host of KCRW’s Welcome To LA, in conversation with Justin. 8pm. Records and revelry to follow.

Free and open to the public at Gold Diggers in East Hollywood. 5632 Santa Monica Blvd.


In 1970, Canada via Philadelphia singer / songwriter Beverly Glenn-Copeland cut his first two records. One self-titled, the other just called Beverly Copeland, on both discs he creates an intense and intimate dialogue amongst backdrops of desolate blues, rambling folk, serpentine jazz, and luminescent classical rhapsodies. With a powerfully earnest and transfixing androgynous vocal spectrum, his three-octave range reaches through despairing lows, spirited outsider-pop affirmations, and soaring operatic dramas.

It was at the age of three that Beverly Glenn-Copeland announced he was a boy, a proclamation met with immediate dismissal by his parents. It wasn’t until sixteen years ago – at the age of 58 – that Glenn-Copeland fully transitioned into a man. His artistry was to endure. “I have always loved to be able to sing in a feminine way, in a sound that was very feminine, as well as a sound that was very masculine,” Glenn-Copeland told the CBC last year. “And I refuse to give that up because otherwise, I can’t completely express the total spectrum of emotion, from my perspective.”

Nonetheless, he seemingly wouldn’t record again for sixteen years. Instead, he wrote for Sesame Street. Appeared regularly on the Canadian children’s show Mr. Dressup. He infused love and positivity into the world, and in 1986, re-emerged with Keyboard Fantasies, a minimalist electronic masterpiece that finds Glenn-Copeland conquering a brave new world in an assuredly singular ambient expression.

Beverly Glenn-Copeland :: Sunset Village


New label Kith & Kin comes storming out of the gate with a downright dazzling compilation of fresh cosmic American sounds, featuring stellar work from many of the scene’s leading lights and upcoming talents. It’s pretty safe to say that if you’re a reader of this website, you’re going to find a lot to like here.

Freedom of the Press is not only an expertly put-together and flow-tastic hour of music (with art by AD’s own Darryl Norsen to boot), it’s also for a good cause, which you can guess from the comp’s title. All proceeds are going straight to the Freedom of the Press Foundation, an organization that protects and defends adversarial journalism — a resource that, sadly, is more important than ever in the 21st century. The highlights are too many to name, but I’m especially loving Wooden Wand’s swirly, Lennon-esque “Hall of Mirrors,” the Weather Station’s vigorous live version of “Thirty” and 75 Dollar Bill’s crunchy “WZN #1 (Olives In The Ears).” Maybe best of all is the track that kicks the whole thing off in fine fashion — Trummors’ hazed “Peacock Angel,” which cruises through the desert on a wave of gorgeous harmonies and burnt pedal steel. words / t wilcox


It’s July, which means it’s time to check in with the third largest of the four Greater Antilles. Enter Bomboclat! Island Soak, Volume 8 – another batch of seasoned sides from the private collection of John Mascarenhas.

Bomboclat! Island Soak 8 :: Jamaican Vintage (A Mixtape)


Lagniappe (la·gniappe) noun ˈlan-ˌyap,’ – 1. An extra or unexpected gift or benefit. 2. Something given or obtained as a gratuity or bonus.

Celestial Shore veteran Sam Owens returned last month via, You, Forever – his second lp under the nom de tune Sam Evian. Like his 2016 debut, the record is another slice of elegant 70s leaning rock and pop, as evidenced by his Lagniappe selections. Paying tribute to circa ’74 John Cale and Neil Young’s “Unknown Legend”, Evian’s north American tour lifts off later this week at the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles. Owens in his own words, below.

Sam Evian :: You Know More Than I Know (John Cale)

I love songs that feel like circles. This song just keeps going. It probably has too many verses, but who cares. The first time I hung out with my partner Hannah, we drove around NYC listening to Fear, John Cale’s fourth solo record. I was pretty taken with her. So a week later I had a late night in the studio with some friends, and I convinced them to play through this tune. I’ve lost the multitrack to this recording. All I have is this stereo bounce that I made late late that night.

Sam Evian :: Unknown Legend (Neil Young)

Hannah and I learned this tune on our road trip across the country last Fall. We had Neil’s tape in the car, and we put it in right as we were coming down into this long flat desert valley. There was a big dust cloud in the distance. As “Unknown Legend” came in to its second chorus, we realized the dust was being kicked up by a handful of cowboys, herding a few hundred cattle through the desert. They were the first people we had seen for at least a hundred miles.