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

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

SIRIUS 410: Jean Michel Bernard — Générique Stephane ++ Deerhunter - Ad Astra ++ Gary Numan - Are Friends Electric? ++ Deerhunter — Snakeskin ++ Deerhunter — Dr. Glass ++ Beach House — Sparks ++ The Feelies — Crazy Rhythms ++ Josef K — 16 Years ++ Fire Engines — Meat Whiplash ++ Ought — Beautiful Blue Sky ++ The Fall — What You Need ++ The Clash — The Call Up ++ Women . . .

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The Lagniappe Sessions :: Alex Bleeker

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

Alex Bleeker’s latest, Country Agenda, lit out last month via Sinderlyn Records. Their third LP, the album finds Bleeker and co. further mining and expanding upon their shared set of influences -- a record aptly described by their label as "drawing on the same wizened energy and brilliant restraint as Crazy Horse, the Dead, Moby Grape and other like ­-minded cosmic travelers."

This week's installment of the Lagniappe Sessions features Bleeker, solo, dipping into both the past and present. The artist, in his own words, below...

It's so fun to cover other peoples songs. When I was in school I remember transcribing a long passage of Nabokov's - and just to feel the physical sensation of typing those words - his words, in my fingers, was profound. I feel similarly about covering each of these songs, all of which I consider to be a kind of masterpiece.

Alex Bleeker :: Travelin' (Jeremy Spencer Band)

Jeremy Spencer was a member of Fleetwood Mac and he left to help establish the Children of God, a heavy Christian Cult. It makes me wonder whose love he is singing about in this song. Nonetheless, it's an amazing song and has been a tour van favorite for years.

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If Charlie Christian Was A Gunslinger . . .

If Charlie Christian was a gunslinger, there’d be a Whole Lot of dead copycats.

Sure Charles Mingus was referring to Charlie Parker with the "dead copycats" line, but he could have just as well been talking about Charlie Christian. Christian was a pioneering guitar player who was a prime character in the birth of bebop, particularly in the years between 1939-1941, and is acknowledged for transforming the guitar from merely a rhythmic instrument into a line-leading and soloing one.

But innovation does not occur in a vacuum and an ocean away Django Reinhardt was doing his own work playing single note runs, swinging absurdly with his Lester Young-like lyricism. That Django only had three fingers on his chording hand could have something to do with it, necessity being the mother of invention and all.

Is it possible Charlie Christian could have encountered Django Reinhardt? One of Charlie Christian's closest allies, Teddy Hill, the manager of the after-hours joint Minton's Playhouse in Harlem, and a bandleader in his own right, would joke, "We're going to bring that Django over here, and he'll blow you off the stand." According to Hill, Christian would just smile and mimic a few typical Django phrases on his guitar. The guitarist Mary Osborne recalled seeing Christian play Django's version of "St. Louis Blues" note for note before breaking into his own style. A direct Django Reinhardt connection is fascinating but implausible, each other’s innovation occurring independently and concurrently.

The genius of Charlie Christian is not just what he did on the electric guitar but the way he did it, creating long flowing improvisations, repeating mini phrases to build tension, and slowly releasing the valve for the remainder of his solo. Listen for the way he repeats notes or phrases in the first few bars of a solo, rotating back to them in short succession, referencing the song's theme while pulling away from it. For example, Christian's solo on "Airmail Special" with Benny Goodman's band, beginning around :32. Once you're aware of this dramatic device it's impossible not to notice in subsequent listening.

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The Velvet Underground: Sweet Jane (Rehearsal) – The Matrix

It's a big couple of weeks for Velvet Underground fanatics, with Rhino's six-disc Re-Loaded box set and the four-disc Complete Matrix Tapes both hitting shelves, immersing listeners in the band's latter days. What we've got here today doesn't appear on either release, but it links them. It's the earliest known version of Loaded's . . .

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My Name Is Doug Hream Blunt

The story of Bay Area funk master Doug Hream Blunt is a simple one. In 1985, at the grown-ass age of 35, he enrolled in a class called “How To Form A Band.” He then proceeded to learn electric guitar and formed a group with his classmates, with whom he recorded a full-length LP, Gentle Persuasion, and a six-song EP called Big Top, both self-pressed and bound for obscurity.

But while Blunt’s origin story is a simple . . .

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John Renbourn: The Attic Tapes / Bert Jansch: Moonshine

John Renbourn and Bert Jansch came together to weave beautiful guitar tapestries in Pentangle. But the pair, of course, did plenty of work on their own. Both have passed on, but two recent archival releases are very much worth digging into.

First up is Renbourn's charming Attic Tapes, which pulls together some of the guitarist's earliest (and previously unreleased) efforts. Kicking off with expert renditions of the Britfolk scene's ur-texts, "Anji" and "The Blues Run The Game," the collection ably demonstrates how skilled a . . .

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The Sonic World of John Carpenter – A Playlist

It's Halloween. If there was ever a time to celebrate the sonic aesthetics of filmmaker/composer John Carpenter...well, this is it. Halloween (1978), Escape from New York (1981), Prince of Darkness (1987), Dark Star (1974), The Fog (1980), The Thing (1982) and beyond.

Go ahead -- rev up those dark synths and play this while you pass out the candy. Trick or treat.

The World of John Carpenter (via Spotify . . .

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SIRIUS/XMU :: Aquarium Drunkard Show (Halloween Edition)

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 409: Intro ++ The Tomko’s - The Spook ++The Blue Echoes - It’s Witchcraft ++ The Gories - Casting My Spell ++ The A-Bones - Mum’s The Word ++ Elvira - End of Side One ++ Screaming Lord Sutch - She’s Fallen In Love With A Monster Man ++ Baron Daemon & Vampires - Ghost Guitars ++ Frankenstein - This . . .

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Videodrome: A Frenzy of Halloween Horror to Dement Your Harvest Nights

(Welcome to Videodrome. A monthly column plumbing the depths of vintage underground cinema – from cult, exploitation, trash and grindhouse to sci-fi, horror, noir and beyond.)

Another October, another opportunity to discuss horror films in detail and be taken semi-seriously. Halloween is a time to feel comfortable speaking in public about otherwise obscure subgenres, such as evil Christmas and campfire slaughter. Above all, it’s the best time of year for exploring the world of B-movie creativity . . .

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White Out with Nels Cline :: Accidental Sky

Lin Culbertson and Tom Surgal, known to experimental music fans as New York City improv duo White Out, have a long, extensive list of collaborators, including Jim O’Rourke, Mike Watt, Thurston Moore, Carlos Giffoni, and C Spencer Yeh. Collaboration is a key component of the group’s discography, spread out over the last 20 years. For much of that time, Culbertson and Surgal have improvised live with guitarist Nels Cline, though it’s only now, 15 years into their time together, that the trio have released a proper record, Accidental Sky on Northern Spy Records.

The album benefits from the trio’s long time together. Recorded live and completely improvised in Culbertson and Surgal’s apartment, the album finds them locked in and zoned out. They clearly speak the same language, continuing a musical conversation that began in Los Angeles in the early 2000s, when Surgal met Cline at the now defunct Alligator Lounge.

White Out with Nels Cline :: Sirius Is Missing

“Every Monday night, he’d be playing at one of the greatest cultural attractions of that era,” Surgal says. His parents lived in the city, so he became acquainted with Cline while visiting them. Soon, White Out began performing with Cline. “We started playing pretty regularly at this club called Spaceland, which is now the Satellite, in Silver Lake.”

White Out quickly recognized Cline’s simpatico style. “He’s a jazz musician, but he’s a very free player,” Culbertson says. “He’s really able to go into sonic territory outside of particular musical parameters.”

The respect was mutual, Cline says. No stranger to collaborative efforts himself – including work with Carla Bozulich, Wilco, Mike Watt, Charlie Haden, Julian Lage, and dozens more – he says that his work with White Out offers a unique arrangement.

“There’s something about what Lin does, and I don’t know if she would agree with this or where a lot of this stuff is derived from, but there’s something, a zone she goes into that makes me feel like I’m in the middle of a Sun Ra record, like Heliocentric Worlds or something,” Cline says. “I love that…She has this intuitive approach. Though I know she’s musically trained, she’s very free, making a kind of cool space music. And Tom’s very well schooled in free jazz, drawing inspiration from people like Rashied Ali, “Beaver” Harris, Jerome Cooper, or Milford Graves…He reminds me in that way of someone like Sunny Murray, or a contemporary guy like Chris Corsano. The combination creates a kind of cosmic freedom, which is great to create in. I find myself able to go to that zone, happily.”

Each member of the group keeps coming back to that word, “freedom,” and Accidental Sky revels in it. Opening on a skittering, percussive soundscape called “Imperative,” its modes can be frantic, like on the swarming “Sirius Is Missing,” but also grooving, evidenced by the brooding “Exaltation By Proxy.” To close the record, the trio chose a lilting, beautiful number called “Soft Nameless Absolute,” which finds Cline strumming shimmering chords under melodic keyboard fragments from Culbertson.

“It was like a musical coda to all the wildness we’d laid down during the day, this euphonious ballad to end on,” Surgal says of the song. “It might have been when the cognac kicked in, too,” Culbertson adds.

“It’s not about showing off your technique,” Cline says. “It’s really about surrendering to sound. Even if Tom and Lin, don’t necessarily focus on the possibility of drama as I do, when improvising, there is a kind of subtle drama that can emerge in our collaborations I find really surprising and pleasing. There’s something kind of restrained about it that’s different than what I do with other people.” words / j woodbury

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Pharoah Sanders :: Kazuko – Live In An Abandoned Tunnel, 1982

Pharoah Sanders with accompaniment via Paul Asrlanian, on harmonium, in an abandoned tunnel. San Francisco (Marin Headlands - close to the Golden Gate Bridge), 1982.

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God Less America :: Beyond The Fringe Of C&W

It’s late October, and we’re breathing chill, autumnal air, damp with death and lit by the blood moon. During these darkest of nights we while away our witching hours and pay homage to our devils. We reflect on fear itself, and what we realize to be the most frightening is not the bogeys, demons, and monsters outside–it’s the monsters on the inside. In other words, the ideal subject material for real country music.

Many moons ago, we parted the dark skies of time to become a member or log in.

Patterson Hood :: The Aquarium Drunkard Interview

Nearly two decades into their career, it makes sense that Drive-by Truckers would be releasing another live album, their first since 2000's Alabama Ass Whuppin'. Given that their catalog has grown to ten studio albums, there's a wealth of material to pull from. But 2015 has been an interesting year for Patterson Hood of DBT as well. He penned a well-regarded editorial for the New York Times over the summer in response to the church shootings in Charleston, South Carolina that gave the band a new bit of attention not seen before. Ahead of the release of their new live album It's Great to Be Alive this Friday, Patterson Hood sat down with Aquarium Drunkard to discuss the various versions of the band, the fine details of planning a live album, recording in the historic Filmore in San Francisco, his article for the Times and how a flag with Hank Williams Sr. on it may not be such a bad idea after all.

Aquarium Drunkard: You talked in the press release for this album about how much you love this version of the band. And as a fan of the band, given the member turnover, I think of this as Drive-by Truckers Mach 4.0. So how would you compare this version of the band to earlier iterations?

Patterson Hood: It's got a great chemistry, and the individual parts are all great, but it's got a really good chemistry. There's a lot of camaraderie, really close. It's like when you're in high school and you play in rock bands and you have this idealized version of how you think it ought to be. It's kind of the closest I've ever had to that band. Everybody is just smokin' good in the band. We actually enjoy hanging out and that's cool.

I guess, Mach 1 of the band - which honestly was kind of Mach 2 - but the first lineup that really toured, when we finally gelled into something we could take on the road, in 1998, '99, it was a four-piece version of the band. There were some elements of that band that I always really loved, and that I kind of missed in the later incarnations because we were stripped down, it was pretty lean and mean. We were out there in the van playing 250 shows one of those years - just a ridiculous number of shows and working really hard. But there was a good camaraderie about that. And when we did the reissue of Alabama Ass Whuppin' the other year, I was really loving just how stripped down and rockin' the arrangements were. It was really pretty primal and pretty fun. I think in later incarnations we'd gotten away from that for awhile. Everything got real crazy.

We had the line-up of the band with Jason [Isbell] which was a great version of the band and a very successful version of the band. It's the version that made a couple of our best records and really hit a lot of ground. But it also was a turbulent time. We had a hard time in that era - not just with him, but with life in general. That's when it became pretty serious and became kind of a business and we had to adjust to working with things like management and record labels and shit like that. All these things that take away time from the creative part of it. You kind of have to learn to navigate and not let it drive you crazy. And the era after that was the band trying to rebuild and become good again after losing as vital a part of the band as Jason was. And there were a lot of difficulties in that era. But we kind of landed on this and it's the best of a lot of different worlds. Everyone is really tight. It's corresponded with a time in our life that's a lot better, too. We're happy with our record deal. We have great management, a great booking agent. All the different moving parts work well. So, we're able to really focus on the good stuff, you know - being creative and writing and trying to make as good a record as we can without all the distractions. It's a pretty good time for it all.

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Phil Cook :: The Aquarium Drunkard Interview

On Southland Mission, Phil Cook has hit his stride. The record, which found him weeping upon listening back to demos alone in a cabin in Gailax, VA is a  testament to the community of inspiring and talented individuals Phil has reveled in and continues to give back to. After serving as musical director on I’ll Find A Way with longtime heroes The Blind Boys of Alabama, Phil had a revelation -- one that that has since provided the inspiration for a record that is pure in every sense of the word.

Speaking with Cook during a European tour opening for The Tallest Man on Earth, he speaks of nothing but gratitude for the team effort Southland has been. He tells us this record made life easier, clearer for him. Phil if you’re reading this, the feeling is mutual.

Aquarium Drunkard: Is this the first run of dates in Europe for the new record?

Phil Cook: I did some shows when I was opening for Hiss Golden Messenger. I was opening the show and then playing in his band in February. Doing these tunes, but the record wasn’t out, I was just like hey just so you know, I got a record coming out this fall. This is the first time I got to have the thing for sale, and playing the tunes and talking about the record and it’s really exciting.

AD: How has the response been over there?

Phil Cook: I love it so much. It’s been so fun. Tallest Man’s fans are fans of good music. They love what he does and I think they are coming out and have been really appreciative and kind and listening. They’re open to shit. I just want people to be relaxed and be themselves and have a good time. I try to make people feel comfortable right away. There’s no mystery to what I’m doing.

AD: It seems like you value the idea of building a certain degree of trust with your audience.

Phil Cook: Luckily, the door that I’ve found into music was so pure. I feel lucky that it was just a love of the music itself. It was never, not once about getting chicks. It was never about that or magazines or pictures and posters. It’s just about records. I get older and I kind of meet more people from that funky old tribe of dudes where it really is just about the music. Music has given me my best friends in the entire world. It’s brought me all over the place. It introduced me to places and people. I have nothing to feel but grateful at the end of the day.

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Labi Siffre :: Give Me Just A Little More Line

You may never have heard the name Labi Siffre before but you’ve definitely heard his music. One of London’s unsung musical heroes, Siffre was born in Hammersmith in 1945 and, between 1970 and 1975, released some of the most expertly mixed blends of funk-jazz-soul-folk you’ll ever experience this side of Bill Withers. In fact, you have heard–consider, first, the fact that the slinky instrumental break from Siffre’s ‘I Got the…’ provided the hook on Eminem’s "My Name Is" (let’s, for the moment, leave to one side the fact that it has also helped shape songs by Primal Scream and Miguel). Next, consider the fact that "It Must Be Love," yes that song everyone thinks Madness wrote, was actually written by the same guy. Here we have a stretch, a spectrum of music-making perhaps unequaled by anyone but those we deem The Greats. See the genre-busting of Curtis Mayfield. See the crossovers of Carole King and Laura Nyro. Before his retirement at the end of the 70’s (and a brief resurgence, post-Madness) Siffre was a master of the same flexibility.

Which of course, made his albums hard to pigeonhole (and perhaps harder to promote). Bill Withers, of course, always had gospel underpinning his acoustic leanings–it was detectable and it had a category. Siffre, oftentimes underpinned his songs with English folk, cabaret, show tunes, a little jazzy Van Morrison, a little Cat Stevens. In 1972, a breezy proto-Paul Weller song like "Cannock Chase" just wasn’t going to fit comfortably on an R&B chart anymore than a Pop Chart (unless said chart was in an already kaleidoscopic musical landscape in, say, Holland). But damn if it wasn’t the airwaves’ loss.

Labi Siffre :: Give Me Just A Little More Line

Less to do with cocaine than a lover’s sense of autonomy, Siffre’s "Give Me Just a Little More Line" is the quintessence of his leftfield stance as a singer-songwriter. A majestic, melancholy blues chant that makes you want to weep with sympathy within the first few measures. A high-flying voice that shares as much with Peter Gabriel as Mayfield. The horns don’t punch, they underpin. At the forefront instead is a silky string section, sweeping up the emotional register of the song, making it pine even harder for that titular line to be loosened up.

Siffre also had the ability to pare things back even further, and one of the delights of listening to his albums is how quick he is to follow a killer groove (see "The Vulture") with the lightest of touches. Sometimes it can be a little coy, sometimes cheekily camp, but mostly these hot-cold tendencies settle into their own laidback acoustic languor. If you can imagine Janis Ian, Joan Armtrading, and Tracy Chapman all getting together for drinks, at least one of them would have to have a Labi Siffre record close to hand. It’s also saying something that you can look through the man’s back catalog and find songs taken up (not only by Eminem and Madness) but Kelis, Kanye, and Kenny Rogers.

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