Subatomic
Issue One featuring familiars, favorites, and francais
Abstract
Just trying to get myself back into the fold of this…
I’m sure it’ll be a mess of thoughtstrands and misguided ideas for a time. That’s just part of thinking out loud, which is something I do regularly. If you’ve read anything I’ve written across the near 20 years I’ve been publicly writing (and thank you for that, genuinely), it’s just my style. It’s never about getting out first impressions but finding the connections within the nodes — sometimes to great effect, but most often to these stream of consciousness in a half-sleeping state.
The inaugural Subatomic features album reviews from Wes Tirey, Billy Nomates, Tujiko Noriko, Ghost Woman, and a compilation from Already Dead Records, an excerpt from a preview for the board game Zoo Vadis, and some literary observations of The Come Up: An Oral History of the Rise of Hip-Hop by Jonathan Abrams and You’re With Stupid: kranky, Chicago, and the Reinvention of Indie Music by label co-founder Bruce Adams. There is a bit of bonus content at the bottom for those willing to make it that far.
Wes Tirey — No Winners in the Blues (Full Spectrum; LP/DL)
2019’s No Winners in the Blues was originally released on cassette via Patient Sounds, but Full Spectrum has gone ahead and given us that deluxified vinyl reissue. No, this wasn’t cut by Bernie Grundman or Kevin Gray, but it’s more that it gets to be back in the world as a physical piece of art that is still relevant because Tirey’s sound and stories are timeless.
Don’t take the last thought as a shot toward the digitization of music, when the democracy that it has entailed for so many is part of the reason music continues to proliferate despite the music business being the absolute pits thanks to labels and particular streaming services happily bilking artists on all creative fronts.
Which speaks to the ideals behind No Winners in the Blues — not the digital versus physical divide in terms of music, mind you. Alas, it’s more of the hardships of living in a society that casts long shadows over us; a self-perpetuating aura of defeatism disguised as getting one over on each other.
However, the music accompanying Tirey’s hardened warble is often lilting, steely, and uplifting. There’s something to be said about how the blues emboldens us to be stronger, wiser, and perhaps happier in the long run. That the Sisyphean task of everyday life is worth that continued push uphill. As Tirey puts it in “Easy Leaving,” without an ounce of anger or indifference: “Baby, I’m not playing/I’m not fuckin’ around/It’ll be so easy leaving/When hell comes raining down.” But it’s not an excuse for abandonment, but rather a testimony of what sacrifice can accommodate (“Good luck only gets you so far”). There are no winners in life, even those billionaires in dick-shaped rockets who clearly are happy to leave their messes to us to go start new ones among the stars. But it’ll be us — those with few material possessions and struggling bank accounts — who should just turn and leave when their hell comes raining down.
Billy Nomates — CACTI (Invada Records; LP/CS/DL)
What is exactly enchanting about Tor Maries’ music is hard to pinpoint. Breaking through with her Emergency Telephone EP and then in a collaboration with Sleaford Mods, Maries (as Billy Nomates in a slag at her lack of accompaniment when she would attend other band’s shows) allowed her to explore post-punk mixed with pop to mixed, but exciting results.
CACTI leans further into the pop of Maries idealism, but that doesn’t mean its stripped entirely of its post-punk charms. In fact, Maries’ musicality is captured in her lyricism. There is nothing exacting or poignant, but many of the songs come across as conversations Maries is having with and for herself. Last year’s big single, “Blue Bones (Deathwish)” is the poppiest song of the bunch, but her resignation at growing older and wiser in the choruses (“Death don’t turn me on like it used to/The end don’t get me high like the start do”) are journal confessionals. “Saboteur Forcefield” is similarly themed, with Maries bolstering her previous claims by explaining she gets off with the starts and stops involved in a seesaw relationship, chasing the highs of the starts merely due to instinct.
Much of these confessionals are explored in varying forms, but CACTI does suffer with the same lyrical content. And eventually, mimicking the album’s inspiration, it all becomes a bit prickly. Maries is overwatering a plant that wants a bit of aridity — maybe it even looks forward to some dry patches. But Maries continually admits that she just can’t let that happen, which can make the album and her music endearing in the same fits and spurts she champions. I find myself coming back to the same handful of songs (“Blue Bones”, “Saboteur Forcefield”, “Black Curtains in the Bag”, “Fawner”) and growing tired of others quickly — songs I’m likely never to return to. Similar to Maries, I’m keeping some doors open and permanently closing others throughout CACTI (as the title track opines, “Oh, cacti/I’m never coming back again, am I?”), manifesting her messaging in manners I’m not sure she entirely envisioned.
Various Artists — Honk if You’re Already Dead (Already Dead; CS/DL)
Generations of music lovers and stumblers have romanticized the compilation, the distilled view of a particular symbiotic scene and its participants, however divergent. The stuff that leads to new genre names being created by people who off-the-cuff take a journo’s (perhaps dismissive) description and place it on a record bin divider.
You won’t find that bit o’ trouble with Honk if You’re Already Dead, which is a mish-mash of sounds that cannot be contained by any singular descriptive save for appearing together on a compilation from the titular Already Dead.
Which is good. Uniformity in vision and sound even kills off the most forward-thinking bands and labels eventually. Division, diversion, and the rise toward artistic compromise that pushes ideas and waves forward is what listeners desire (don’t let a Top 40 list tell you otherwise). And it’s quite the compromise to ingest these 20 tracks, even from a label I’ve been following from the sidelines for some years. My kids get a kick out of Urine Hell’s “Dream Return” didactic reticulation of a metallic Spiderland. It could also be the band’s name causing a snicker or two as well. We won’t even touch the punkish punch-up of “Everything Gives Me Diarrhea” from Rat Punch.
I assume this made its way under my nose due to the German Army affiliation: both with spaciously eerie “selective memories of your time” from GeAr, but also the romantic tremolo of “Smoke Signals” from offshoot Kris & Tavi. But I keep returning because of bands like Itch Princess, whose sound is akin to Hausu Mountain being founded in the thralls of Bauhaus ecstasy. Similarly, Mezzanine Swimmers and “Switch” feels like Imagine Dragons cutting their teeth on Stunned tapes.
That each song seems to represent the breadth of Already Dead’s sonic canon is in and of itself refreshing. That Honk… isn’t beholden to one style, one theme, or one idea is even better. Yes, there are always [personal] misses on any compilation, but the true beauty of collections of this ilk is returning to it and mining it for future rediscovery because you missed something the first time around.
Tujiko Noriko — Crépuscule I & II (Editions MEGO; CD/CS/DL)
Noriko has always taken a meat tenderizer to pop music; sinewy cuts are pounded into submission with a blunt instrument. However, it’s the fine pyramidal patterns of the flattened plane that has often defined Noriko’s style.
Crépuscule I & II is a bit different; not that Noriko has ever been totally heavy-handed in the delivery of texturized, chewy pop slices. But the latest feels velvety and effortless. Where pop has certain borders, Noriko was looking to bend by willful force, Crépuscule is wily crafted like impossible meat in a lab. There’s real science behind the genre bending here; an album that no longer adheres to some unspoken rules of what constitutes the definition of “pop music” and certainly not beholden to the need to repeatedly smash a tough piece of meat into carpaccio.
Crépuscule is an effervescent affair. It’s not gristle and fat, but a trimmed record of raw romanticism. “The Promenade Vanishes” is seductive, delicate, and delicious as it swirls around the palette. Parts of it strike me as a pop deconstruction of what To Kill a Petty Bourgeoise explored in the open, seductive spaces of their final album, Marlone.
One of the album’s highlights is “Fossil Words,” a song of such remarkable texture that it practically melts into a pool of earthly flavors. The backing crescendos and hollow echoes of Noriko’s lyrics reverberating in its cavernous mouth; a tongue slowly rolling around this most delicate piece of nourishment. A complete, balanced meal.
Ghost Woman — Anne, If (Full Time Hobby; LP/CD/DL)
In the nostalgic-laced present, it’s often a bad trip to revisit and reconfigure the past. What’s gone is gone. The knowledge isn’t lost, but the vibe and its intent most certainly are. Sure, it’s the eco-conscious thing to recycle, but that shouldn’t be the case for musical movements.
Ghost Woman are a rare exemption, but not because they are a derivative throwback. While the gritty 60s garage rock of last year’s self-titled is still ever-present on follow-up Anne, If, there’s also the constant tug forward, to not get lost in the past of their inspirations or identity. In terms of mining the past for future gems, Honey Radar is the best comp for how Ghost Woman seem to operate.
Anne, If certainly walks a thin line between tribute and trial, but damn if it doesn’t feel strikingly fresh by just tweaking some of the finer things of a bygone era and making them relevant now. “3 Weeks Straight” is a garage rock scorcher. It plays with space in its production quality, not out of limitations due to the tools but rather to get the most of out the sound in a modern context. The title track (which follows it) is equally adept at blending past convictions with modern conventions.
But as the album unspools, it begins to showcase the width of the duo’s talents. “Street Meet” has a catchy motorik-inspired beat mixed with a cool, minimal guitar melody. While more of a sketch than a fully-formed song, it’s in line with current music trends where half-baked ideas from talented musicians are just as viable and interesting as complete, overstuff products. No need to shelve it for some compilation or collection in the future, just give it to people if the feeling’s right.
This is the ethos behind Ghost Woman, and especially Anne, If. I wish the album was available at a righteous price in North America (along with last year’s self-titled). Ghost Woman may be the most interesting band in capital-R Rock & Roll without being completely beholden to the genre’s tired tropes of yesteryear (nor completely snubbing them).
[The following is an excerpt from a preview for the upcoming board game, Zoo Vadis. The whole preview can be read at Casual Game Revolution, and the game can be crowdfunded via Kickstarter.]
Zoo Vadis is a cute and creative reimagining of Quo Vadis, though much of the political and economic vices of old remain. This will immediately be a red flag for players who crave player interaction, but fear games where people can become cutthroat, alliances form, and progress can be stilted.
However, Zoo Vadis does a good job of trying to limit those interactions in favor of highlighting compromise and strategy. Not only do peacocks play a pivotal role in helping players advance, but also knowing when to sacrifice a laurel token by choosing to move the zookeeper nearby is key. Also, making an agreement — such as a tit-for-tat for yes votes — and not backing out of it after you’ve received the benefit to leave the player who helped out in the cold, goes a long way to keeping the game quick, light, and engaging.
Games like Zoo Vadis are strong teaching tools for cooperation, challenging players to think more long-term in both how they’ll advance through the zoo with their tokens and peacocks to gain majorities, but also in aiding others along in their journeys so that everyone can have some prosperity near the end. However, Zoo Vadis is a competitive game, so there will always be the element of obtaining as many of the highest laurel tokens as one can during their journey to the star exhibit.
This racing element is really the x-factor of Zoo Vadis. If a player is able to gain some quick majorities and yes votes, they may be able to maneuver quickly to the star exhibit area and secure a spot. Then, they can use the rest of the time to collect laurel tokens with their other animal tokens. Of course, the other players may be shrewd and decide to thwart this strategy.
That’s the beauty of Zoo Vadis. With its underlying sociopolitical themes and gameplay, the mood of the game will be very dependent on the group playing it. There is much to gain and learn, especially for younger gamers, in Zoo Vadis. But it won’t be a game for everyone, despite some fantastic art by Kwanchai Moriya and excellent components in the deluxe edition.
Jonathan Abrams — The Come Up: An Oral History of the Rise of Hip-Hop (Crown Publishing Group)
A fantastically thorough book, The Come Up also drags its feet and overstays its welcome. Abrams’s list of contacts is rich and expansive, yet his narratives ultimately suffer under the strain of packing in every last quote from his interview subjects. His overarching points get lost in the redundancy of multiple people commenting on minutia, rather than unpacking some of the finer moments in which Abrams believes are turning points in hip-hop’s emergence from regional phenomenon to an international one.
Yet, The Come Up is an exciting read, capturing much of early hip-hop history in the same manner that early hip-hop coalesced in the streets via word of mouth. In fact, had Abrams focused solely on those beginnings (the late 70s through mid/late 80s), The Come Up would have provided a far shaper and more interesting thesis. By the time Abrams gets into the mid-90s, everything starts to speed up and focus is lost when there’s just as much to mine and discuss of that era (preferably in a separate book).
All of this to say the read is worth the journey. But like any trip, The Come Up gets reductive and everyone is ready for it to be over before it is.
Bruce Adams — You’re with Stupid: kranky, Chicago, and the Reinvention of Indie Music (University of Texas Press)
Adams captures both a moment in time and a city’s musical emergence on two distinctly different fronts without irony, sarcasm, or snobbery. Adam’s kranky is framed within the whole of the Chicago in which it was founded and nourished, and how it both embraced its city benefits and also willingly sidestepped its hindrances.
What’s truly engaging is how Adams tells these stories in parallel, speaking to the rise of Chicago during the alternative heyday via short tales of Urge Overkill, Liz Phair, Smashing Pumpkins, and others, while also speaking to Chicago indie stalwarts such as Touch & Go, Thrill Jockey, and Drag City. This is all presented as a way to differentiate kranky without doing an apples-to-apples comparison. Rather, these framing devices work to establish why Bruce and Joel made their musical and aesthetical choices. It’s buoyed by what we now know were the earliest signs of a recording and touring industry beginning to tear itself apart as major labels chased the last big fad cash-in and how truly independent labels were wise to stay their course, even if it meant higher hurdles and smaller returns in the short term.
I joked via social media that University of Texas press should have asked Adams to include a disclaimer at the beginning of the book about the amount of time and (potentially) money one might spend when reading You’re with Stupid because Adams does a keen job of interweaving specific releases, labels, and bands that coincide with the first wave of kranky artists that firmly established the label. But the reason is not to revisit the past but view the signposts & historical markers of where the music industry is at and where it came from to get to this point. kranky never intentionally positioned itself as the end-all-be-all guidance of how to sustain, reinvent, and entertain over the course of changing tastes and tides, but You’re with Stupid subconsciously demonstrates that’s exactly what happened.
81355 blessed (yeah, terrible wordplay) Indianapolis PBS-affiliate WFYI on the season debut of Small Studio Sessions.
Hausu Mountain is running a crowdfunding via Bandcamp campaign to press Angel Marcloid’s new Fire-Toolz album, I am upset because I see something that is not there, on vinyl.
A board game crowdfunding project to keep an eye on (not including the aforementioned Zoo Vadis) is Witchbound, a solo storytelling RPG from Dark Doll Games.
