"It’s all human, baby, and we're all just trying to figure it out." Jenn Wasner of Wye Oak and Flock of Dimes joins collaborator Alex Toth of Tōth for a conversation about creative health, meditation, and personal acceptance . . .
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Eschewing mainstream sounds from the musical spectrum of North Africa and the middle east, this niche collection highlights largely overlooked artists riffing on Egyptian organ funk, Moroccan disco, Lebanese protest music, Libyan reggae, Algerian library music and beyond . . .
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In their ongoing excavation of all things Robert Cox, RVNG Intl. has released Sync or Swim, the sole album from The Same, a document from 1981 which finds Cox and fellow DIY enthusiasts exploring their own version of British psychedelia, or as Cox called it: “folk music meeting technology and going bonkers . . .
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Imminent summer approaches as we check in with with Monster Rally, whose "Imaginary Palms" drops later this week -- a balmy dreamscape framed by harps, water, live drums, air and maracas.
This, our third mix collaboration [following Volume I (2012), and Volume II (2013)], finds Monster Rally's Ted Feighan pulling from an appropriately humid crate. Press play, get lifted . . .
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Bay area duo Sugar Candy Mountain returned late last month with the release of their fourth long-player, the 13 track psych-pop that is Impression. Recorded with Papercuts' Jason Quever, the record maintains the aesthetic touchstones of previous work, yet organically expands their sonic palette. For this installment of the Lagniappe Sessions, the group take on the nonpareil oeuvre of Serge Gainsbourg . . .
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It’s June. Our weekly, bullshit free, email newsletter dropped this a.m. Smash that subscribe button, sign up and peruse the archives. Always loaded with supplemental reccs + more. Get it.
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In an age of “one-click” accessibility to a plethora of media, it’s surprising that a film as salient as To Live and Die in L.A. is so difficult to find. While its current scarcity undoubtedly plays into the lore that surrounds it, To Live and Die in L.A. transcends the cult genre and revival house programming. It’s not only one of the most potent crime films ever made, but a unique time capsule of Los Angeles . . .
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Much like Bolinas itself, the poems gathered in On the Mesa exist in an unincorporated state—apiece and apart, at home and at ease, glad to be among each other. They reflect and transcend an era ripe with love, longing, domestic life, tempestuous sociopolitical events, growing ecological concern, burgeoning spiritual consciousness, and good old-fashioned small-town gossip . . .
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Over the last 60 years, guitarist Steve Cropper has helped defined the sound of soul, rock, R&B, and pop. That's his clipped rhythms in "Green Onions," that's him losing it onstage at Monterey Pop behind Otis Redding. He joins us for a discussion about his history and his new album, Fire It Up, and discusses the secret to fashioning a great R&B instro . . .
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Over the course of Live in Stuttgart 1975's 91 unbelievable minutes, Can emerges as the ultimate jam band—forget whatever negative connotations you may have with the term. Here, jamming isn't about technical flash or aimless noodling; rather, it's about the quest for collective ecstasy, for both the musicians and the audience . . .
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Sliding off the coast of California — the Aquarium Drunkard Show on SIRIUS/XMU, channel 35. 7pm Pacific, Wednesdays. No static at all.
34.1090° N, 118.2334° W . . .
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Director, musician, and artist Jim Jarmusch joins Transmissions for a wide-ranging talk about his movies, collaborators, and life in upstate New York, where he's at work on art and music nearly all the time. "I have a kind of slow rhythm to the way I talk, to the music I make, to the films I make . . .
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Recorded over the span of 48 hours in his adopted home of Holland, this is very much a Maston record, yet one as scanned through the collective lens of the Swiss prog-jazz quintet, L'Eclair . . .
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On this latest archival release, Boogie Shoes: Live on Beale Street, fans of Alex Chilton get a sonically perfect snapshot of the polished side of the artist—the side that loved playing funky-ass R&B with a tight backing band . . .
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One walks away from Lavender wondering if Calvin Love is Svengali, shaman, or Sputnik – the album is as comfortable on the astral plane as it is on the great plains of North America . . .
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