Christopher King :: The Aquarium Drunkard Interview

Why The Mountains Are Black collects “Primeval Greek Village Music” from 1907 — 1960 for Third Man Records. 28 tracks are culled from the 78 rpm collection of Christopher King, a life-long collector and expert set of ears based in the small community of Faber, VA.

Mountains is an excellent point of entry to the world of Greek demotika (rural folk music) from Epirus, the liminal region where northern Greece and southern Albania kiss in an intractable swath of mountains. The people that inhabited this rugged land developed an enduring culture in relative isolation, despite being nestled in the heart of the Ancient World and a hosting a bloody vortex of pagan, Greek Orthodox, and Turkish Islamic influence. These black mountains’ history runs deep, and the earliest recordings of its musical traditions sound beguiling, hypnotic, and alien… difficult to place, yet timeless and familiar.

King describes this demotika as a “tools for survival.” The songs present include shepherds’ calls, funeral laments, wedding and feast day dances. The source 78s are aural documents of a culture that existed before the insidious and widespread sublimation into a “Monoculture of the West.” They sound outside of a modern recording industry that molded music-making into a commodity. This music is vital and intense, and King says it serves “an existential function within the community.”

Demitrios Halkias :: Selfos (Nightingale)

This is the sort of music King lives for (and it should be noted that he abstains from listening to much else). Whether it’s country blues, string band, gospel, Cajun, or Epirotic, if he hears that raw, unhinged beauty, the music reveals itself as a transhistorical vessel to ponder and discuss the nature of humanity at its purest and most conflicting. He’s a prominent collector with a knack at sourcing the best copies of the rarest music, and he specializes in the subtle craft of engineering that fragile shellac for reissue. Technical expertise aside, King is a thoroughly charismatic producer, curator, and historian… an indispensible tour guide through the primordial sonic backwaters. His poetic liner notes are deeply human and thought provoking, informed by parallel loves of literature, cinema, and philosophy–essential companions to the music.

Regulars at AD will certainly recognize some of his past work–his Long Gone Sound label has partnered with Tompkins Square includes Imaginational Anthem, Vol. 6: Origins of American Primitive Guitar, the unparalleled Mama, I’ll Be Long Gone: The Complete Recordings of Amede Ardoin amongst others. He won a Grammy for his work on Revenant’s Screamin’ and Hollerin’ the Blues: The Worlds of Charley Patton, and was featured alongside his copy of “Last Kind Word Blues” in John Jeremiah Sullivan’s deep NY Times investigation of the mysterious Geeshie Wiley and Elvie Thomas. Chris King has played a part in many intoxicating trips into the past and sports an enlightened perspective on the strange market of reissue music.

Elias Karathimos :: Mirologi-Epirotiko Makedoniko (An Epirotic-Macedonian Lament)

Yet King’s relatively recent interest in music from Northern Greece has generated a massive project. Why The Mountains Are Black is in fact the fourth of a seven-part serialization of Greek/Balkan music. Its predecessors are Don’t Trust Your Neighbors: Early Albanian Traditional Songs & Improvisations, 1920s-1930s, Five Days Married & Other Laments: Song and Dance From Northern Greece, 1928-1958, and Alexis Zoumbas: A Lament For Epirus 1926-1928. That last one, released in 2014, is a dizzyingly beautiful portrait of a mysterious, mythical, expatriate violinist. I dare one to listen and not have the soul shaken! Each collection posits a philosophical inquisition, introduced by King’s accompanying writings that brim with his singular personality. In addition to the three remaining serializations, he’s also working on a proper book on the music of Northern Greek for W.W. Norton & Co., a “musical travelogue through the eyes of a 78 collector.” While waiting on King’s book, check out Amanda Petrusich’s excellent ride-along piece in the NY Times, where she attends the panegyri (marathon village festivals) with King for a present-day glimpse at Epirotic music. Needless to say, this deeply traditional music is still alive and well despite the obscurity of these earliest recordings. There is much to appreciate in that corner of the Earth for the musically curious and adventurous.

Aquarium Drunkard caught up with King over the phone to discuss just what’s going on in those Mountains.

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John Cale :: The John Peel Session (1975)

Following his exit from the VU John Cale kept busy as a producer, sonically manning the helm behind Nico's The Marble Index / Desertshore and the Stooges  landmark debut LP. All this prior to embarking on his own solo career in 1970 with the release of Vintage Violence, kicking off a trio of albums for Columbia Records. Cale's next record deal would find him on Chris Blackwell's Island Records, releasing a trilogy of albums in quick succession over the course of thirteen months.

Which brings us to . . .

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High Llamas :: Here Come The Rattling Trees

Sean O'Hagan and his merry band of High Llamas aren't quite as prolific as they once were back in the 1990s, but their latest effort, the all-too-brief "musical narrative,"  Here Come The Rattling Trees, is a great reminder of the group's myriad charms. From the very first note, the listener is transported to a sonic space that really no other band can conjure up, filled with elegant arrangements, buoyant and bubbling keyboards, wistful melodies and crisp Tropicalia rhythms. Beautiful . . .

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Joni Mitchell :: The Jungle Line

'This record is a total work conceived graphically, musically, lyrically and accidentally -- as a whole. The whole unfolded like a mystery. It is not my intention to unravel that mystery for anyone, but rather to offer some additional clues."   Joni Mitchell, 1976 (via)

The Hissing of Summer Lawns - also known as the record I play for people who pretend they don't like Joni Mitchell. Next to Blue, it sits as my . . .

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The Headhunters :: Survival Of The Fittest

Space funk incarnate. Last month, perusing bins to pick up a nice copy of Sextant for a pal, I was reminded of the Headhunters 1975 solo debut, Survival Of The Fittest. Sans bandleader Herbie Hancock (though helming the production), the Thrust gang is all here: Mike Clark, Paul Jackson, Bernie Maupin and Bill Summers, along with guitarist Blackbird McKnight. At six tracks, bookended by . . .

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Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers :: Fooled Again… / Live 1976

It's kind of hard to fathom that, at one time, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers were a band that a lucky punter could see in a small club. Fortunately, Shelter Records had the foresight to record the group on a night when they were most definitely 'on', back in December 1976 at Paul's Mall, Boston. Unbelievably, the group didn't even headline that night, Al Kooper did.

Unfortunately, the official release was a promo-only one sided job that was drafted in limited quantities for radio and press in 1977, just as the group was starting to gain popularity. Not an easy record to find - beyond the small pressing, the nondescript white cover has a printed number (made to look like a test pressing) that mentions nothing about the contents within.

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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 421: W-X - Intro ++ BBC Radiophonic Workshop - Vespucci ++ Shintaro Sakamoto - Mask On Mask ++ The Makers - Don’t Challenge Me ++ Smokey - Strong Love ++ Shintaro Sakamoto - In A Phantom Mood ++ Ramases - Dying Swan Year 2000 ++ Jeff Phelps - Excerpts From Autumn ++ UFO Break ++ Starship Commander Woo Woo - Master Ship ++ Ty Segall - Squealer Two (edit) ++ David . . .

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Soul Sok Sega: Séga Sounds From Mauritas / 1973-1979

Courtesy of Strut Records comes Soul Sok Sega: Séga Sounds From Mauritas, a twenty-two track collection exploring the 'séga sounds' that emerged from Mauritius (an island off the coast of Madagascar) between 1973-1979. The traditional music of Mauritius, dating back four centuries, Séga is known as the “blues” of the Indian Ocean. Below, native Mauritian and the compilation's architect, Jean-Paul 'Bluey' Maunick discusses the impetus of the collection . . .

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The Skiffle Players :: Til Stone Day Comes

On the heels of last year's A Folk Set Apart, a decade in the making compilation of Cass McCombs b-sides, rarities and other detritus, comes something altogether new: The Skiffle Players.

Cass McCombs, Neal Casal, Dan Horne, "Farmer" Dave Scher and Aaron Sperske make up the quintet -- the album, out February 12 via Spiritual Pajamas, is Skifflin'. Set the dial for Californian coast . . .

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LightDreams :: Islands In Space

At the dawn of the 1980s, songwriter Paul Marcano and his band LightDreams emerged from the psychedelic haziness of the previous decade with Islands in Space, a concept album about the colonization of outer space. Recorded entirely on a Teac 4-track in Marcano's home studio in Goldstream Park, outside Vancouver Island, the record featured collaborations with composers Andre Martin and Cory Rhyon and instrumental contributions by other friends. Homespun but expansive in scope, the finished record proclaimed humanity's need to travel away from Earth via a mix of . . .

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Tindersticks :: The Waiting Room

Hey, we could put on our shoes / we can celebrate when our hearts break and go laughing to that noose…”

That line, from “Slippin’ Shoes” off Tindersticks’ 2012 LP Something Rain, reads as something of a thesis statement for the Nottingham band, now 25 years into its career and sounding fresh, vibrant and brilliant as ever. That record and their latest, the recently released The Waiting Room, find the band at a creative peak — flourishing the melancholy and maudlin with beautiful visions of light and streaks of orchestral jazz. Stuart Staples is a master vocalist, employing his voice to convey the dramatic, the sentimental and the sullen. His poetry is draped in a swirl of organs, strings, horns, glockenspiels - a noir landscape for his observations on mystery, nostalgia, regret, beauty and hope.

The Waiting Room begins with the plaintive instrumental “Follow Me,” led by a chromatic harmonica (shades of John Barry’s Midnight Cowboy theme are immediately conjured), with tribal drumming and shimmering strings quietly playing underneath. We first hear Staples on “Last Chance Man.” His gloomy, entrancing vocals dimming the lights alongside a mournful organ. “I found love / before I could identify it / I found grace / before I could be mystified it,” he sings, a late realization at a love that enlightened him. As the percussion and saxophones start to ascend, Staples approaches a second chance. The horns sounds like a new lease on life as Staples promises to do it right this time, his cadence picking up speed. He’s feeling it all this time; this is where he thrives: the last chance.

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BBC Radiophonic Workshop :: Fourth Dimension (1973)

Library music in excelsis. RIP the glorious workhorse that was the BBC Radiophonic Workshop -    the outfit tasked with the creation of music and sound effects for all BBC programming between 1958 to 1998. Enter Fourth Dimension - a 1973 Radiophonic Workshop library recordings release comprised solely of composer Paddy Kingsland's work.

Dig in to the synthesized funk that is "Vespucci", below. "Doctor Who" this is not.

BBC Radiophonic Workshop :: Vespucci

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The Darker Side of Diddley

One does not need to know much about  Bo Diddley to understand his contribution to the musical landscape as we know it. The "Bo Diddley Rhythm" he made famous was a tremendous influence on r&b, the early rock and rollers that followed, and beyond. I love all that stuff. There is something so perfectly gritty and grimy about it - all held together with that incessant, driving beat.

I'm also drawn to the darker side of the man's work. When we first started Chances with Wolves we were looking for songs that felt a certain . . .

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On The Occasion of Chicago Guitarist Terry Kath’s 70th Birthday

I think about Terry Kath every time a rock star dies. We've become accustomed to the cycle. It's how we process the death of famous people now. The social media churn. The first 24 hours of wall-to-wall Facebook. The headlines, the think pieces, the tributes, the sharing of video. Then it gradually dissipates over the next 72 hours, until you are left alone with your own muscle memory - the way you identified with the artist yourself. You are alone with the artist, again.

Terry Kath shot himself in the head while fooling around with a 9mm handgun one week shy of his 32nd birthday, January 23, 1978. His last words were, according to bandmate James Pankow, "What do you think I’m gonna do? Blow my brains out?’ I found out about this by reading the October 16, 1978 People magazine cover story on Chicago while waiting to get my haircut in a local barbershop in Plainview, Long Island. I was eleven years old. There was a photo spread of the Chicago band members with their wives and babies. I remember a wave of nausea coming over me as I pored over the article in a disbelieving stupor. It made no sense at all. Terry Kath was my first experience with feeling something profound around a death. The sensation would soon become all-too familiar, with Keith Moon, Bonzo and others to follow. The difference was that news of Terry Kath's death was traumatic for me, and I use that word with no irony, and with all its potency.

Now it's 38 years on. It looks like we could see a little revival of appreciation for the great Chicago guitarist and singer now that his band is headed into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. His daughter, Michelle Kath Sinclair, only two when her father passed, has completed a documentary about her dad. She seems like a very sincere person who wants to get the Terry Kath story right, not just for the world but for herself, by learning as much as she can about a father she never really knew.

Chicago is one of the most commercially successful bands of all time, having sold well over 100 million records worldwide. Each one of Chicago's eleven albums preceding Kath's death went platinum. That kind of sustained success seems unfathomable today. Eleven albums is a sizable body of work for anyone, and there is plenty of Terry Kath to listen to, including lead vocals on indelible hits like "Colour My World", "Wishing You Were Here", and "Make Me Smile", still heard in taxi cabs and piped into retail stores across the US every single day. His voice is a mellow baritone sounding most like bandmate Robert Lamm, his hero Jimi Hendrix, and Ray Charles. There are plenty of great moments to discover, notably the soulful "Hope For Love" from Chicago X; the experimental, corrosive "Free Form Guitar" from Chicago Transit Authority (Chicago's very own mini-'Metal Machine Music', which pissed off fans immensely, recorded in one take); the bluesy strut of "In the Country" from Chicago II; "Little One" from Chicago XI, written by Danny Seraphine about his daughters but sung by Kath (touching to hear today if you think about Kath singing those words to Michelle); the loose, gritty "Mississippi Delta City Blues" written and sung by Kath and recorded for Chicago V, eventually surfacing on Chicago XI. Hendrix was supposedly a big fan of Kath's guitar playing, and Kath wrote the expansive, tripped out "Oh, Thank You Great Spirit" for Jimi on Chicago VII. He was supposedly set to start work on a solo album at the time of his death. We get a hint of what that might have sounded like on the stirring 7:47 "Tell Me," which is not on a Chicago album - an edited version of the track was used in the final episode of Miami Vice.

Kath killed himself four months after Chicago XI was released. The band was already contemplating a new direction as it would be the last album overseen by producer James William Guercio. Upon reading it again after 38 years, there are several interesting revelations in the People Magazine article I read in the barber shop. Robert Lamm says of Guercio : "Somewhere around our album Chicago V it went from 'being taken care of' to being manipulated. It was part him, part us . . .we were naive and idealistic and stuck to the music. Jimmy produced some great albums and encouraged and supported us financially in the beginning. But then he got up on a mountain and gave directives. It didn't wear well." It wasn't just a business or musical direction that shifted in the aftermath; there was a marketing conundrum. The massively successful band had no identifiable star power.

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Cian Nugent :: Night Fiction

Cian Nugent has been primarily known for his instrumental work, both as a Takoma School-inspired fingerpicker and an electrifying bandleader (as heard on his incredible 2013 LP with the Cosmos, Born With The Caul). Night Fiction sees him slipping into a more traditional singer-songwriter role -- and making it look like no big thing.

The album's seven songs swing and swagger, calling . . .

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