Bonnacons of Doom – self titled

So I did it again because I’d done it before. Remaining yet unconvinced, I tried a third time; indeed, I soon stopped counting.
Then a voice asked me
‘Why?’
Having no answer, I ignored it. If I couldn’t convince myself then I was in no place to justify my actions but since I lacked an alternative, I continued doing them.
and then another voice asked
‘Why?’
‘Because’
replied the first voice, which I was grateful for because I was about to say that very thing. A conversation started which was really boring, so I won’t repeat it here. I tuned it out into background mental chatter.
and then
apropos of nothing
I said
‘Why?’
and the chatter stopped
I’d forgotten how unsettling the silence was.

 

Our Solar System – Origins

You’re only dead once

The only way forward is backwards

Can you call someone blind if they don’t see what they’re not looking for?

All that I do know is all that you know
As I was saying to myself the other night

Waiting for the punchline so that we can die laughing

She walked through the hall like an earthquake
I could tell things were about to get real

This time I decided to err on the side of gluttony

If you want to win the war on drugs, destroy all humans
oh, that’s what you’re trying to do

Seeing as it’s my blood, I suppose I should clear it up

Girl Sweat Pleasure Temple Ritual Band – Hyper Rituals

So then, we’re all agreed: it’s a farce. But exactly what kind of farce is it? McWilkinson will take the first seminar, arguing her hypothesis that the farce should be read like a deconstructive take on a Bakuninian-level revolt disguised as hot marvel. The second seminar will welcome Mordant Furniture, presenting his best selling vision of an illusory farce in a mentalist dogma, preceding the reality which followed it because of inbuilt hypotheses planted by previous venerations. Then Professor Summat Whassup will take the floor, and only return it when we agree to peer review his latest article on the cultural importance of whippersnapping the well-fed, who we should be concerned with because they’re the future of his fan base. And we shall end this enthralling day by dethroning the prevailing revolutionarism and slapping it, all in the capable hands of a brilliant PHD strident, fresh from the aristocratic jam function, known as Manjenium SLobobacker-Roosevelt-Ckumbucket. Tickets are a very reasonable national debt of Guatemala, or the soul of one or more of your children. This includes a buffet lunch – dingos kidneys wrapped in lettuce strips served by small white boys from the council estates that we’re paying minimum way-ge to in order to assuage our guilty consciences that shout at us when we write content-less articles depicting their way of life instead of fucking doing something about it.

William Parker – Double Sunrise Over Neptune

William Parker was my gateway into jazz. The first album I heard by him was Long Hidden – The Olmec Series which piqued my interest, particularly the 11-minute Pok-A-Tok at a time when I was beginning to enjoy longer pieces on a regular basis. But Double Sunrise Over Neptune was something else again. Technically, it’s a four track album, but seeing as one of those tracks is less than a minute and is essentially banter, I think we can safely say that this is a three track album, the shortest of which is fifteen minutes long.

The reason I like this so much is because it wasn’t even remotely close to my pre-conceptions of jazz. For a start, Parker keeps repeating the same bassline in each piece. They are amongst the most hypnotic basslines ever, circular, weaving, did someone say Ouroboros (the cosmic serpent, not the various metal-ish acts that have used the name over the years)? They are islands of simplicity amongst the whirling maelstrom of ecstatic expression happening around him.

The secret to enjoying this music, for me, was exactly the same as the secret to enjoying Les Rallizes Denudes, bizarrely enough. Use the bassline to anchor your perceptions and let your attention drift in and out to the various expressions being performed by the other voices and instruments. They are many and rapturous, but there is always the bassline to return to. There are ebbs and flows, crescendos and lulls, but always the bassline. (Has anyone noticed I’ve got a thing about bass?)

From here I was able to understand more and more of the jazz approach to musical expression, although my favourite incarnations have always been the long and hypnotic – I think it’s fair to say that that’s largely true of most genres for me these days.

So, I don’t have a handy way of embedding the album or demonstrating the whole thing apart from the opening – and shortest – track. You’ll have to take my word for it, though, that this is a wonderful example of transcendent music across the entire album.

And, whilst finding the things I’ve linked for this post, I let the embedded tune play to it’s end as I wrote the main body of the text. And you know how Youtube automatically selects a next piece for you if you don’t take an active role? Well, I’d never even heard of Ronnie Boykins, but damn…

Fire! Orchestra – Ritual

 Honestly, what is it about Sweden?

You know when music is special when you listen to something whilst in the midst of a fairly drawn out grumpy period, and that music makes you feel alive, positive, and like all the petty crap really just does not matter, which it doesn’t.

People, I give you Fire! Orchestra.

I’ve been more and more of a jazz head, I must admit. This is where the genre really does it for me. It isn’t about technique, it’s about consciousness exploration. That’s why it’s a ritual. That’s why I consider music like this to be psychedelic, and a million revivalists who call themselves that to be not, although everyone has to start somewhere.

The opener, which you will find embedded in this post somewhere, is 10 of the fastest moving minutes in history, it feels like less than half that duration. To me, at least. This is music to get completely lost in. Throw maps in the bin.

There is a strong emphasis on the groove, the many horns don’t get in each others way, and the two vocalists are absolutely incredible.  The album is both propulsive and meditative, noisy and musical.

There simply aren’t enough superlatives to describe how I feel about this album. A true ritual, and a triumphant one at that. A perfect illustration of why humans picked up objects and started hitting, plucking and blowing them. Its purity makes it impossible to pigeon-hole.

This also makes for two posts in a row where the album cover seems somewhat random, although I think art purists will probably prefer the term collage.

Those who are inspired enough to want a physical copy will find one here.