Artist: Jeff Parker ETA IVtet Album:The Way Out of Easy Reviewer: Thomas Metzger
Jeff Parker has had quite a storied career: a Berklee College of Music grad and possibly best known as the guitarist for the post-rock band Tortoise (check out TNT if you haven’t – incredible album). However, his talents aren’t reigned in by Tortoise, as Parker is, in my opinion, one of the more underrated jazz guitarists and band leaders out there today. Parker made one of my favorite solo jazz guitar albums ever with his use of atmospheric textures and loops on 2021’s Forfolks, and also has fronted (led?) groups such as the New Breed in 2016 and now, the ETA IVtet.
Rounding out the ETA IVtet are Anna Butterss on amplified double bass, Jay Bellerose on drums and percussion and Josh Johnson on alto saxophone and electronics. (Check out their solo stuff, too, it’s all good).The Way Out of Easyis actually a live recording of the group, recorded at the now shuttered ETA in Los Angeles. According to their Bandcamp, the group “evolved from a band that played mostly standards into a group known for its transcendent, long-form (sometimes stretching out for 45 minutes or more) journeys into innovative, often uncharted territories of groove-oriented, painterly, polyrhythmic, minimalist and mantric improvised music.” This is where the ensemble cut their chops across the years, and it shows on this recording.
Opener “Freakadelic” is a sparse and groovy Parker piece, originally written in 2012, that in this rendition is like a potion of lounge jazz mixed with sonic exploration and electronic elements. Across its 23-minute runtime, it never really gets to a full-blown freakout, but still leaves the listener right on the edge of their seats waiting for what will happen next. The track never feels out of control or meandering, but rather tightly knit, the musicians never overstepping one another with what they decide to play. Every note matters.
The sudden closure of the ETA venue must’ve certainly had an impact on the group. This was their home for playing for many years, and you can certainly feel their emotion throughout the album, such as the opening notes to “Late Autumn,” where Parker takes center stage with his signature fingerpicking and harmonic sound, eventually layering background textures overtop – very Forfolks-esque. Slowly the ensemble joins in, and soon you are transported to a space ripe for deep thought, again sparse, but in a way where the sum of everyone’s parts creates a unique sonic texture and a beautiful feel that I can best describe as Miles Davis’ In a Silent Waymeets Brian Eno’s Music for Airports. It leaves room for reminiscing on the past, something I’m sure the group felt when the ETA closed.
Overall, this album is rich with ambiance and moods, venturing deep within the psyche of the group without ever getting into anything too freaky for most people to enjoy. Each member has a unique playing style that, combined, is meditative and sonically rich. Perfect for night drives, smokey jazz clubs and deep meditative thought.
Artist: Lee Morgan Album:The Gigolo Reviewer: Chad Dryden
I’ve been on a Lee Morgan kick for the past few years, during which time he has rapidly moved up my list of jazz favorites, now second only to Miles because, well, Miles is Miles.
But Morgan was no slouch on the trumpet either. Schooled by Clifford Brown and absorbing much of Brown’s aesthetic (not to mention some of Miles’), Morgan released several solid albums as a bandleader in the late-’50s and early-’60s while also playing with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers before retreating from the group in 1961 with a nasty heroin habit. After getting clean, he reemerged in a big way with his most well-known (and best) album The Sidewinder (1964), whose title track with a huge hit by jazz standards (No. 81 on the Billboard Hot 100) after it was released as a single. Maybe it was the catharsis of playing again after beating his drug problem or the subsequent return to the New York City jazz scene, but the unrelenting Sidewinder is a blazing, pedal-down exercise in hard bop with nary a ballad among its five original compositions. And speaking from experience, it’s sonic rocket fuel for a late-night highway drive.
Ditto The Gigolo, one of four(!) full-length corkers Morgan released in 1965 and which Blue Note finally reissued on vinyl in 2024 – mercifully so, because cherry copies of the original pressing trade in the triple digits. And while the album closes with the romantic, understated ballad “You Go to My Head,” the four preceding cuts rival The Sidewinder’s two-lane-blacktop momentum, grooving, bopping and building to the 11-minute title track and its scorching solos by Morgan and tenor saxophone godhead Wayne Shorter. A thrilling ride throughout, and worthy of inclusion in your jazz collection if The Sidewinder leaves you breathless and you’re not quite ready to stand still again.
Artist: Neil Young and Crazy Horse Album:Ragged Glory Reviewer: Thomas Metzger
Neil Young has never been a stranger to trends in music. From the introverted acoustic folk of Harvest to the puzzling rockabilly of Everybody’s Rockin’, Young has proven the need to constantly change and adapt to the wider music landscape.
Enter the ’80s, where you can argue that Young was lost. He released a string of records that performed poorly and left fans confused, so much so that his label, Geffen Records, actually sued him for nearly $3.5 million, citing that he was releasing uncommercial and “musically uncharacteristic” records. The rest of the ’80s would not be kind, with Young releasing a flopped movie as well as becoming entangled in more lawsuits and poorly performing records.
All this would be a lot on anyone, even Neil Young. But it wouldn’t be long before he would return to form with the hit single “Rockin’ in the Free World,” a fairly simple but catchy song where Young sings his despair over simple open guitar chords, distortion turned up. It would not only be a precursor to what would become known as grunge, but also provide a glimpse into his next album that would launch a comeback for Neil, Ragged Glory.
Neil Young is often credited as the “Godfather of Grunge,” with “Rockin’ in the Free World” adopting a grungy crust of tone and attitude. Ragged Glory brings back his famous Crazy Horse backing band to deliver what I would argue is one of the best early grunge albums. It takes the developing sound of grunge and puts a Neil Young spin on it. Opener “Country Home” is more upbeat in tone than you would expect on most grunge or alternative albums at the time, but the distorted guitars mixed with Young’s classic open-chord progressions give his classic songwriting a fresh sound.
The track “F*!#in’ Up” is my contender for one of the best grunge songs of all time (yeah, I said it). The drop-D guitar riff and pissed-off attitude from Young comes through in his vocal delivery and a blistering guitar solo that could’ve easily fit on the radio alongside other bands like the Melvins or Nirvana. You can feel the angst coming through the main riff that is sure to get stuck in your head for days after you first hear it.
Midway through the album we get the track “Love To Burn.” This is another barnburner from Young and Co., with extended guitar jams and classic lyrical work from Young. This is an example of an ever-elusive “grunge-song-about-love,” where he sings about taking a chance (“ON LOVE!”), only later in the song to regret the choices he made.
As with most alternative albums from that era, perfection is not often worried about. You could argue the backing vocals on “Farmer John” are goofy and could’ve maybe used another take, but I think they are a great representation of the ethos of the era, that it doesn’thave to be perfect. I think the mindset of alternative music at the time was not to worry too much about getting “perfect” takes, and to instead just get your message across. I think Young was pissed off about his place in the music world, and he needed an outlet to let out his anger. Luckily for him, he just happened to be pissed off at the right moment in time. This album would be a shining moment in Young’s discography, and also earn him some “cool points” among the alternative scene.
While different in sonic characteristics and attitude than his usual output, Ragged Glory is a fun and unique moment in Young’s discography. It’s one that mixes his classic songwriting style with the attitude and sounds of the late-’80s underground, and the result is a home run. While he might be known more for his folky sound, this album shows that he is not afraid to get rowdy and turn the volume up to 11. If you’re a fan of ‘90s alternative rock, I would implore you to give this album a chance. I think you’d be surprised.
RIYL: Nirvana’s Nevermind, grunge/’90s alternative rock, loud guitars
Artist: Amyl and the Sniffers Album:Cartoon Darkness Reviewer: Tatiana Silva
Amyl and the Sniffers’ junior album is nothing groundbreaking in the sound of Aussie pub rock, but the attitude of frontwoman Amy Taylor easily carries this album into my top 10 for 2024. Like the short-lived, euphoria-inducing inhalant the band is named after, Cartoon Darkness is 33 minutes of bullshit-ridding incantation backed by the same inebriating instrumentation that got me hooked with their 2021 album Comfort to Me.
One of my favorite mantras from the album’s “U Should Not Be Doing That” highlights the growth in musicianship from this Melbourne-based pub-rock punk quartet:
I’m working own my worth, I’m working on my work, I’m working on who I am
I’m working on what is wrong, what is right, and where I am
Amy gives us her most complex melodies to date, we hear saxophone for the first time in “U Should Not Be Doing That” and the band proves they’re more than just rowdy pub rockers with debut ballads “Big Dreams” and “Bailing on Me.” Lyrically I am obsessed with Taylor’s bluntness in disregarding the opps (misogynists, racists, fascists and, well, anyone just generally f*cking up the vibe). I do have to throw a bit of shade on the “they didn’t want to see us succeed” trope that comes up throughout the album, as the band was touring internationally and opening for acts like Foo Fighters within the first year of their self-titled debut in 2019, which also went on to win the 2019 ARIA Best Rock Album of the Year. I am grateful to have downtempo moments in Cartoon Darkness to flesh out my admiration for Taylor while she sings about heartbreak and wanting to escape a place that feels inescapable. It’s a unique feeling to feel like you’re growing with a band, as Comfort to Me did not find me well but served as a driving force to get me to where I am today. The switch-up in styles has me genuinely eager to hear what new sounds and ideas the band will conjure in following projects, and how I will also have grown and changed by the next time we meet.
Amyl and the Sniffers continue to be the band that I would recommend when you need to lock in to just surviving the next day (because sometimes it be like that). With all of their albums ringing in below 40 minutes, they know how to drive a beat forward with clear, crisp dictation that can be dicey to find within the genre. Taylor’s lyrics read like spells and will easily have you sold on sticking things out to spite it all.
In the chance you don’t need any of Taylor’s spellwork lyricism, I’d highlight “Tiny Bikini” and “Doing In Me Head” as instant on-repeat tracks, the kind that feel eerily familiar but also so tingly new you can’t stop until you’re absolutely sick of them. “Chewing Gum” is mid-tempo for the album and pulled at my heartstrings, as I’m a big cheesehead for any gum/love reference ever since I heard Air’s “Playground Love.” The penultimate track, “Going Somewhere,” has a dark, flirty playfulness that leads us into the final track “Me and the Girls,” which holds my favorite mantra:
Me and the girls are stealing our napkins, me and the girls don’t want to be taxed
Me and the girls want free abortions, you and the boys can’t even get waxed
Me and the girls, we don’t want protection, me and the girls don’t want to be boxed
Me and the girls are gonna go party, you and the boys can shut the fuck up
So I am once again pouring my wee little heart out and asking you to indulge in less than an hour of primal, somatic and strutty chords. And if you’re an overachiever, watch the official music video for “U Should Not Be Doing That” – all I have to say is Steven Ogg.
Toxic, Bush’s second term, Facebook; 2004 brought a selection of events and moments that shaped and sneak-peeked the post-Y2K world as it was developing. There was a general sense of culture, with the boom of the Von Dutch multi-layered fashion archetype and the timeless classic of The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie being released, countered by rising disdain for the jingoistic stubbornness of the US’s strong-handed involvement in the Iraq War, which imploded after our two attacks on Fallujah. The year brought many tug-of-war battles between citizens and their surroundings, muddying up the rocky but palatable ground that media, global politics and life was hurriedly shaping into.
However, gone from the notions of cultural relevance was the fringe, and while the indie rock of the Strokes, Interpol and Arcade Fire was taking shape and forming the new norm that still runs into today’s music landscape, the ever-creeping impact of electronic music was becoming less easy to ignore. Daft Punk, Gorillaz, Radiohead; pop was being digitized, but what was going on with the music that had already been digital?
When I think of electronic, I think of three names, predictably: Aphex Twin, Autechre and Squarepusher. These three Warped artists nailed down and progressed electronic music to a realized form, which in the evolution from Kraftwerk and Silver Apples continued a legacy of driving, inventive rhythms and textures brought on by the mangling of circuits and capacitors: Aphex with his ambient techno sound that encapsulated almost all of the ‘90s; Autechre with their cold, glitchy, cerebral generative programming; and Squarepusher, thee Tom Jenkinson, who stood out by inserting more of a human touch into his take on electronic music, much to be attributed to his imperfect, unpolished-sounding experimentational playing of his bass guitar.
This is a long way of establishing that Squarepusher’s work felt more alive and less robotic than his surrounding cast, and his 2004 record Ultravisitor threw caution to the wind and took a few swings at electro that were broad, bold, daring and super weird, but sounded less like it was cooked and stewed in the drab, concrete, dank rooms that home-recorded electronic had been establishing.
The album gets a lot of credit for me in the Squarepusher catalog as an interesting symbiosis of live and studio recordings; Tom Jenkinson’s work had always had a feel of realism to it, with those plucky bass lines, vocal samples and some tongue-in-cheek quirks that didn’t take themselves too seriously, but had plenty of room to do so. On Ultravisitor, there are our familiar conventional Warp quirks of corybantic drum and bass cuts, but splashed within and around that ‘90s sound are many strange tone shifts, with some downtempo jazzy tracks back to back with cacophonous musique concrète experimentations, not to mention the breakbeat cuts.
Our three-track run of “Telluric Piece,” “District Line II” and “Circlewave” hits all these benchmarks, and is a shining example of what the record set out to do; we go from screeching, vengeful improvisations, to coked-out, murky ragga jungle, to almost post-rocky, entrancing nu-jazz beats, all within one side of an LP.
“An Arched Pathway” I might describe as the soundtrack to a cybernetic vampire tripping down an escalator, regaining their footing, only to eventually have a repeated battle with a banana peel they keep slipping on. Jenkinson’s bass here really steals the show; fed through strange, computerized effects, struck and thwapped with the vigor of a psychopathic deviant obsessed with the banjo.
Here on Jenkinson’s seventh record, the bass work is some of his most straightforward and focused yet, like the closer “Every Day I Love,” whose ambient meditative loops might remind one of Loren Mazzacane Connors or “Andrei” with its almost classical music or modal jazz way of progressions done with so much emotional intention. These tracks stand in evident opposition against songs like the sadistic mangled beat discombobulation of “50 Cycles,” or one of my favorite cuts on the record, “Steinbolt,” which has these insanely ear-splitting resonances that collude and conspire with the malicious coupling of harrowing synth pads and some undeniably diabolical breaks.
Predictably, the drum-and-bass feel to this record is what lulls me in, but the obtuse Pollock splattering of genres keeps me listening. It’s not enough to just have the breakbeat acid worship of “Menelec” – it must be bookended by very strange, ominous synthesizer drones and sinister noise walls, mutilating the drum cuts into fragmented, twisted remnants of the track’s rhythms heard just earlier.
A fan favorite – also, a continuation of one of the tracks off of his 1999 release Budakhan Mindphone – titled “Iambic 9 Poetry” couldn’t be more different from the previously mentioned track; despite it not having the live audience cheers and room mic mixing of some of the other cuts on Ultravisitor – “I Fulcrum” and “C-Town Smash,” for example – this feels like the most alive track on the record. Between its Four Tet-like sampled drum swings, the Boards of Canada brooding synth plucks and the gigantic big band sound the last quarter of the track explodes into, it’s just really neat to have a straightforward and irrefutably upbeat track on such an ominously culminated and explosively varied album.
My heavy-handed introduction to this review may have been fueled by my fantasization with music evolving in a time of evolution, and electronic music specifically was hitting an advantageous stride in the mid-‘00s: Autechre had their own explosion of experimentation with the flashcore shrapnel of Untilted, Venetian Snares struck a chord with his modern-classical drum and bass amalgamate record Rossz Csillag Alatt Született; and the glitch music of ‘90s forefathers Oval and Pan Sonic was finally being expanded upon and formulated by now-cemented genre staples such as Fennesz, Ryoji Ikeda, Jan Jelinek and Vladislav Delay.
Then here lies our record in question. Sitting at an important time of the aughts, electronic music was reaching its general maturity while stick-to-itively kicking at air trying to obliterate anything in its sight, and Earthly living was hitting a genesis moment of technological advancements, and soon to be all too familiar seeds being sown in our tendencies to want, and have and feel, and as a result become stronger in an increasingly overstimulating, disjointed, frenetic and accelerated world.
With its bastardizations of goofy jazzy bass solos, maniacal and unrelenting drum breaks and wildly experimental electroacoustic noise tangents, you can catch all of these songs and MORE – notably on the bonus LP, which includes the Venus and Tundra EP cuts – on the 3LP 20th anniversary edition of Ultravisitor, where you can stage yourself in a time not too different from ours now, and settle into an intricate and distracting break from your everyday crusade of momentum versus time.
