Anna Makirere :: Tiare Avatea

Originally issued on cassette in the Cook Islands in the early 1980s, this totally wonderful reissue via Little Axe Records contains the complete recorded works of teenaged singer Anna Makirere. Come for the gorgeous, solar-powered harmonies, stay for the subtly grooving, phased-out guitar work. This is music that'll lift you out of any doldrums, guaranteed – and we could all us music like that these days, right? words/t wilcox

Tiare Avatea by Anna Makirere . . .

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Longing and Looking :: Jessi Colter’s Heavy Praise

Jessi Colter takes a sip of wine.

She’s ordered a white, something not too tart. Apologizing, she tips a carafe and adds a liberal splash of water to her glass. She tastes again. It’ll work. With a slight adjustment, the First Lady of Outlaw Country.

We’re seated at a small wine bar called the Living Room at DC Ranch in Scottsdale, its garage-style doors open to an unusually warm March evening. Colter has spent much of her life in Arizona; she grew up here, raised Mirriam Johnson in the mostly Mormon town of Mesa, where she attended a Pentecostal church before wandering off to Topanga Canyon in 1961 with her then-husband, guitarist Duane Eddy. When that marriage ended, she found her way back to Phoenix, where she met Waylon Jennings, a country rebel known around town for his electrifying sets at local club JD's. The two quickly fell in love. They married and headed to Nashville, where she released albums like I Am Jessi Colter and Mirriam and recorded hits with Jennings, including their cover of Kitty Wells' "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels."

Along with recordings by Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Merle Haggard, Tanya Tucker, Guy Clark, Jerry Jeff Walker, Jennings and others, her LPs helped define the burgeoning outlaw country movement, an expression of the desire to rough things up a little in the button-down music city.

But the desert kept calling to her, and she returned to Arizona in the late '90s with Waylon in tow. He passed away in 2002 from complications involving diabetes and was buried in Mesa. She’s remained here since, frequently heading out to Los Angeles to visit her son, Shooter Jennings and his family.

The Living Room is a nice enough place, but given its chipper waitstaff and top 40 playlist, it’s an incongruous setting to discuss Colter’s two new projects, both intense documents of her faith. First, a memoir, An Outlaw and a Lady, about her life with Jennings and her lifelong Christian practice, and The Psalms, her remarkable new album. Produced by Lenny Kaye, with whom Jennings collaborated on his own book, Waylon: An Autobiography, the record features Colter on piano, mostly improvising chording and melodies, singing from the Old Testament psalms of King David.

The “aching and paining in misery” of the warrior poet's words has long been a comfort to Colter. After Jennings’ death, she began devoting herself to the Old Testament book, finding in the prose a sustaining expression of humanity. The resonance of the psalms, Colter says, stretches across multiple faiths. "Muslims, Christians, Jews," she says, "King David is very important [to them all]." The roots of the project stretch back a decade, when Colter began collaborating with Kaye, sitting at the piano in her home, singing direct quotes from her family Bible, a treasured gift from Waylon. For later sessions, she recited from a copy of scripture Kaye received at his bar mitzvah.

Jessi Colter :: PSALM 150 Praise Ye The Lord

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Miracle Legion :: The Aquarium Drunkard Interview

There are a solid three ways you could have come to be a fan of Miracle Legion: directly through the band's output in the mid-80s through mid-90s; through singer Mark Mulcahy's solo music; or via spin-off band Polaris' sole album, which soundtracked the cult '90s Nickelodeon show The Adventures of Pete & Pete. In this case, all roads lead to the New Haven, Connecticut band.

20 years after calling it a day following their fifth album, Portrait of a Damaged Family, the band came back together to re-release the album and celebrate 20 years of the Mezzotint record label, started by Mulcahy in order to release the album following label problems in 1996. The band kicks off a short American tour in April, with a few shows around the Northeast - including the Bowery Ballroom in NYC on April 21st - before coming to the Echoplex in Los Angeles on April 28th.

Aquarium Drunkard sat down separately over the phone with founding members Mulcahy and Mr. Ray and talked about the reunion, the issues of tackling music you haven't played in a long time, Mulcahy's upcoming solo album, and the virtues of wanting to sound like the Gun Club.

Aquarium Drunkard: How did the reunion come about?

Mark Mulcahy: I think the easy progression was that we ended up doing a bunch of Polaris gigs - which is everyone [in Miracle Legion] but Ray. I hadn't played with those guys either for quite awhile. Playing with them made me think about all four of us playing again. And as much as I wouldn't have imagined doing it, a bunch of people wanted to book gigs for us, so that plus I just think - I don't know if there is some era of reunion. I don't know if there's been other reunion-eras in rock and roll, but a lot of groups from the time we were playing have regrouped as well, so, I don't know, it just felt like taking part in a movement. [laughs]

AD: When did the reunion really come together? Was it last year or prior to that?

Mr. Ray: It was about a year ago last November. I think they [members in Polaris] were pretty shocked that people were really interested. We knew this was a different thing, because the Pete and Pete thing has more of a nostalgia, Comic-Con vibe to it. [laughs] But, I think that was what made us all think. I don't know if I thought we'd ever play again. We said, let's see. Will anyone be interested? Would anyone book us? Will anyone come? And then last year was amazing. I mean, bigger crowds than we had most of the time back in the day. I didn't want to do a nostalgia thing and just play to guys my age saying 'oh, when I saw you in '82,' you know. But it wasn't a nostalgia trip at all. The audiences were great, and a great mix of male and female and ages. So it was great. So we're doing it more.

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Eivind Opsvik :: Overseas V

Oslo-born, New York-based bassist and composer Eivind Opsvik launched his Overseas series all the way back in 2003. An in-demand session player -- he's appeared alongside Anthony Braxton, Mary Halvorson, John Zorn, Bill Frisell, and dozens  more -- the Overseas project has long served as an outlet for Opsvik's  most personal material. It's also allowed room for  experimentation: his latest, Overseas V, brings his tuneful, melodic jazz into alignment with the  jerking sounds of post-punk and art rock (think  Talking Heads or '80s-era King Crimson), creating an electronically-modified update on the "punk jazz" of the Lounge Lizards and James Chance and the Contortions.

Eivind Opsvik :: Hold Everything

Leading a band including guitarist Brandon Seabrook, saxophonist Tony Malaby, drummer Kenny Wollesen, and keyboardist Jacob Sacks, Opsvik dives into jittery funk ("I'm Up This Step," "Brraps!") and  moody  ballads ("Extraterrestrial Tantrum," "Shoppers and Pickpockets"). The best material refuses to be put into any particular box, like "Cozy Little Nightmare," which veers from lovely piano runs to discordant noise and back again, or the loping "First Challenge on the Road," which balances its chopping guitars with melancholic melodies. An engaging, playful listen throughout, Opsvik's Overseas group pulses with charm and vitality. words/j woodbury

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The Incredible String Band :: Radio Unnameable – NYC, 1968

Imagine dialing around on the radio and stumbling across this utterly fried live session from The Incredible String Band late one night in 1968. Transmitted via Bob Fass' legendary Radio Unnameable show, this is some seriously psychedelic free-folk, with Mike Heron and Robin Williamson delivering ecstatic visions and out-of-time tales. Rob Young, in his highly recommended Electric Eden, summed up the ISB best when he said the group “captured [the] elemental essence of music as an intimate rite in the . . .

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Jon Spencer: Garage / Proto-Punk Companion – A Mixtape

"You play that Blues Explosion album from last year a lot, so check this out." That was Rob Green, a guy I clerked with in an Athens, GA record store in 1995. The record CD he was referring to was Boss Hog's s/t second full-length. And like the Blues Explosion's Orange and Extra Width before it, the album quickly entered regular rotation with "knock my teeth out, make way for gold" becoming something of an . . .

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Julius Eastman :: Femenine

"...wild, grand, delirious, demonic, an uncontainable personality surging into sound," wrote Alex Ross in his January essay about Julius Eastman for The New Yorker. Though he died in 1990, Eastman's work has steadily amassed a following in the years since.

In 2016, the Frozen Reeds label issued his S.E.M. Ensemble recording of his composition Femenine. Featuring piano, reeds, violin, synthesizer, percussion, and mechanized sleigh bells (an invention of . . .

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The Lagniappe Sessions :: Daniel Bachman / Second Session

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

Guitar journeyman Daniel Bachman returns with his second Lagniappe Session. Fresh off his excellent 2016 self-titled album, Bachman's proved himself one of the most nuanced guitarists in his field. Beyond its technical aspects, Bachman's playing stirs deep feelings, as do the recordings here, of Lemuel Turner's 1928 "Beautiful Eyes of Virginia" and . . .

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There Is No Such Thing As Nowhere :: Marfa Myths 2017

“You have to really want to be here,” Keith Abrahamsson says, overlooking the small West Texas town of Marfa.

We’re sitting on the deck of a stone and adobe  house just off Highway 90, positioned atop a hill. Since 2014, the label Abrahamsson founded, Mexican Summer, has hosted the annual Marfa Myths festival here with arts nonprofit Ballroom Marfa. Initially a single performance at local venue El Cosmico, the gathering has bloomed into a four-day multidisciplinary happening, dedicated to blurring the lines between cinema, literature, art, and music.

Below us, a rooster crows and a couple dogs fitfully bark. Abrahamsson, wearing a denim jacket and faded Levis, leans back in his chair and considers my question: What keeps him coming back to Marfa?

“It’s kind of hard to articulate,” Abrahamsson says. “But it does feel like the town has this magical something. I don’t know if it’s the remote location, or the super-dramatic landscape and sky. There’s something about it that just has this seemingly magnetic pull. I don’t know how to articulate what about it gives you the feeling that it’s a special place, but it does have that quality.”

Marfa’s specialness is a reminder that there’s no such thing as “nowhere.” Despite its relative geographic remoteness – it’s located about six hours west of Austin and a three-hour drive from El Paso – Marfa feels alive in an indefinable way, pulsing with a vibrancy most small, mostly isolated communities in America can’t anymore, their industries and prospects dried up. Though regular injections of New Yorkers, Angelinos, and big city entrepreneurs – via festivals like Marfa Myths, the Marfa Film Festival, and the Chinati Weekend – bring clout and cash to the town, it’s not a hectic place. Which is precisely why everything feels so charming: Things happen here, at their own gentle pace.

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Ryo Fukui :: A Letter From Slowboat

Everyone loves a good origin story. No matter the creative discipline such tales make even the most potent work seem more revelatory. Enter the late Japanese jazz pianist Ryo Fukui. An autodidact, Fukui taught himself piano at age 22 - just four years prior to the release of his exceptional 1976 debut lp, Scenery. Far from prolific, Fukui released just four more albums over the course of the next . . .

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Helen Oakley Dance: The Dances of Bittersweet Hill

Helen Oakley Dance was a pioneering record collector, jazz writer, producer and promoter. During the 1930s, she promoted the first jazz “concert”, where pop music was first played to listen to rather than as a reason to dance, and the first multiracial jazz band. For her, promoting black musicians was a way of promoting civil rights. In an age of Beyoncé and the Grammys, of Black Lives Matter, of Kanye and Trump, her story, of music and equality, of Jim Crow and the rise of fascism, deserves to be more widely known.

By the time she spoke to Mark Tucker from the Yale Oral History of American Music project, Helen Oakley Dance’s memory was not as sharp as it once was, and she sometimes stumbled over her words. It was 1987, and she couldn’t remember exactly which song Duke Ellington had been playing when she cried, standing at the side of the stage, one evening in the 1930s. She began to talk about the musicians she had known back in Chicago, and became a little lost: “I used to write about Jess when he was playing in the cellar, and playing… getting off at eight a.m. in the morning, and nobody knew about him. And, also, there was a… the Chicago Rhythm Kings, or… My memory is poor, Mark.”

“It's the thing when you don’t refer back to these same sets of things,” she said, “the names that you know very well escape you.” She called over to her husband, Stanley, whom she called Stanny. “We might need Stanny for some dates and some names, because…” Stanley, like Helen, was a respected jazz writer, particularly about Ellington. He’d first become well known in his native England, and had delivered the eulogy at Ellington’s funeral, but he deferred to Helen as the true pioneer, as a writer, producer, promoter, record collector, and civil rights activist: she “was there first”, he said, if people asked.

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SIRIUS/XMU :: Aquarium Drunkard Show (Noon EST, Channel 35)

Our weekly two hour show on SIRIUS/XMU, channel 35, can be heard twice every Friday — Noon EST with an encore broadcast at Midnight EST.

SIRIUS 474: Jean Michel Bernard — Générique Stephane ++ The Swamp Rats — I’m Going Home ++ Dennis Wilson / Beach Boys — Lady ++ The Kinks — I Go To Sleep (demo) ++ Le Bain Didonc — 4 Cheveux Dans Le Vent ++ The Brummels — Bof! ++ Nancy Sinatra (w/ Hal Blaine) — Drummer Man ++ The Motions — Beatle Drums ++ Naomi And The . . .

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Jason Molina :: North Star Blues Session – Belgium, 2003

Jason Molina (Songs: Ohia / Magnolia Electric Co) died March 16th, 2013. It's impossible to overstate the depth and virtue of his songs or the way he poetically expressed the human condition. We originally ran this set in 2013, following his passing. Still touring under the guise of Songs: Ohia, Molina recorded the following live session on April 20, 2003 for the "Duyster" radio show on Studio Brussel, FM 94.5 Belgium. Woodshedding material that would later appear on record (plus an interview), the set is raw and stripped down. Captain Badass, indeed.

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Rob Mazurek :: The Aquarium Drunkard Interview

Rob Mazurek is building a life's work. Coming up in the Chicago free music scene, the cornet player and composer has made pioneering music alongside his peers, including Tortoise, Jim O'Rourke, Stereolab, and Jeff Parker, and collaborated with jazz heroes Bill Dixon, Pharoah Sanders, Yusef Lateef, and more.

But one of his longest running collaborations is with drummer Chad Taylor, with whom Mazurek leads various "Underground" groups. Their latest, A Night Walking Through Mirrors, finds them teaming with London  musicians Alexander Hawkins and John Edwards. It's both brash and thoughtful, a live exhibition of the telepathic interplay between Mazurek, Taylor, and their guests. AD caught up with Mazurek to discuss the record, and how a unifying thread, loosely inspired by science fiction and cyberpunk literature, has begun to solidify in his work, uniting it thematically and conceptually.

Aquarium Drunkard: I'd like to start off about asking you about your notion of protest music. In the biography that accompanied A Night Walking Through Mirrors you say that the various Underground albums have always been "protest" music. How, and what, does your music protest in this context?

Rob Mazurek: I mean, it's basically just a protest against anything or anybody that wants to put up some kind of barrier between total creativity, ya know? So whether it's music or psychologically or spiritually, that's been the thing [we're protesting]. The first Chicago Underground record is called  12 Degrees of Freedom. It has those same precepts, not just in music but dealing with psychology, spirituality, the whole thing. That's always been the underlying theme with that. Whether we're talking about Exploding Star Orchestra or Chicago Underground, it's all about expressing freedom.

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