MUSIC | Records PSYCHEDELIC FOLK WILLIAM TYLER Impossible Truth (Merge) ●●●●●
PSYCHEDELIC ROCK SPLIT RELEASE BONG/PYRAMIDION Untitled (At War With False Noise) ●●●●●
With gilded stints as backing guitarist to Bonnie Prince Billy, Silver Jews, Candi Staton and Lambchop under his low-slung belt, you might be inclined to wonder if prodigious fingerpicker William Tyler had the motivation, energy or indeed time to further express himself. But as his striking 2010 debut solo LP, Behold the Spirit illustrated, the mercurial Nashville axe-master has much to say, and does so in enthralling, rambling guitar meditations akin to those of John Fahey, Jack Rose or Six Organs of Admittance’s Ben Chasny (not to mention his Tompkins Square colleague and nylon-strung wunderkind, James Blackshaw).
Despite a lack of words, Tyler is generous in offering clues to unravel (or
project) narratives on the Midwestern landscape of Impossible Truth. The record is, he says, ‘built around twin themes of apocalyptic expectation and the weight of nostalgia’. Touching on concerns such as diminishing water supplies and ghost towns, Impossible Truth was inspired by dark California tomes like Mike Davis’ Ecology of Fear and Barney Hoskyns’ Hotel California (which, perhaps, Tyler warps into the dizzying, towering ‘Hotel Catatonia’). This sense of unrest resonates on track titles like ‘We Can’t Go Home Again’ and ‘Last Residents of Westfall’, and is writ large on the album artwork, a homage to an art deco nuclear fallout shelter built 25 feet underground in Los Angeles.
Yet, for all that, this is a shimmering, uplifting psych-folk album, as devoted to life and love and 70s singer-songwriters as it is fixated on dread and the
Set controls for the heart of the Tyrant Sun, courtesy of Newcastle’s high lords of psychedelic sludge Bong and Glasgow/Edinburgh’s spry, mesmerising space- rock ensemble Pyramidion. Distinctly different in approach and aesthetic, these two bands complement each other perfectly, having played together in the past. It is therefore only right and serendipitous that they merge once more on this superb vinyl-only mind meltdown from Glasgow underground overlords At War With False Noise.
Bong’s 20-minute contribution clearly outlines why they alighted upon that name. Over a sloth-hurdling trudge, grounded by David Terry’s liquid-gravel bass drone, they meander around various Eastern modes and quasi-mystic ambiences. There’s a dramatic shift halfway, when a barbed guitar swells and obliterates everything in earshot. As the volume builds, the pace slows, the melodic elements are vaporised and the whole thing becomes a swirling, cataclysmically heavy, deliriously intoxicating brew. Simultaneously punishing and sensuous, it’s impossible to listen to this and remain usefully upright. The flipside offers another 20-minute jam, but where Bong are oppressive and earthbound, Pyramidion convey a sense of freedom, the excitement of purpose, the joy of infinite possibility. Their contribution kicks off with choppy guitars and a fluid 6/8 Amon Düül beat, before spiralling into vividly kaleidoscopic interlocking patterns. The bass and drums provide a rhythmic and tonal core above which
end days. Tyler’s sublime guitar melodies, scorched bluegrass and ambling pedal steel are lyrical, literate and endlessly fascinating. While he is joined on occasion by the likes of Chris Scruggs, Luke Schneider, Roy Agee, and fellow Lambchop ally Scott Martin, nothing comes close to his solo alchemy and to that eloquent, bright 'voice'. (Nicola Meighan) ■ William Tyler plays Summerhall, Edinburgh, Sat 4 May, with Hiss Golden Messenger (see album review, page 77, and ww tickets, page 82).
Andreas Jonsson and Tuukka Asplund’s shimmering guitars weave around in a beautiful display of airborne interaction. Pyramidion certainly invoke their 60s/70s forefathers here, but this is no slick, neutered homage. There’s a real savage bite to the dogged repetition, a spiky, awkward aspect to the guitars, a maniacal feel to the intermittent vocals. A beautifully executed split from the yin and yang of contemporary psychedelic rock. (Matt Evans) ■ atwarwithfalsenoise.com
SHOEGAZE COMPILATION MAGIC EYE/LE THUG/ZED PENGUIN/PLASTIC ANIMALS Split 12” v2 (Song, by Toad) ●●●●● POP PHOENIX Bankrupt! (Atlantic) ●●●●●
Eclectica abounds on this four-band snapshot compendium of dispatches from some of the country’s more gloriously, and at times wilfully off-piste musical treats. Each provide two songs for this limited edition vinyl, alongside more of the same to be downloaded on purchase of an equally limited pack of customised beer.
Bankrupt! begins with the brilliant bravura of ‘Entertainment’, a blitzkrieg of uptempo synths and guitars. It’s the kind of epic, contemporary new wave swagger that goes down just swell when performed in front of huge summer festival crowds. A vigorous statement of intent, it says Phoenix are aiming for the rock’n’roll
Plastic Animals kick things off with ‘Sheltered’, a sci-fi grunge that counterpoints urgent guitars and manic synth squiggles with laidback stoner vocals. ‘Floating’ is jauntier, leaning to more hypnotically voguish dream-pop stylings. Magic Eye sound beamed in from behind a shoegazer’s fringe, so beguilingly lovely are the swooping female vocals and echo-box filtered guitar patterns on ‘Flamin’ Teenage’, which leaves plenty of swoonsome space to breathe. ‘Japan’ drifts off into similarly exotic waters, guitars pinging out oriental melodies as a spooky mantra coos.
Zed Penguin’s ‘Wandering’ is a spartan, raggedy-assed lost soul’s lament that sounds like it’s been standing in a corner of CBGB feeling sorry for itself for the last 30 years, biding its melancholy time before delivering something magnificently skewed and deliciously morose. Their second track, ‘Heathens’, is a moodier, spookier-sounding affair, which pokes its musical finger in your chest with a loose-knit insistence that you can’t help but be drawn into. On Le Thug’s ‘New Balance’, slo-mo washing machine drones provide a densely
impressionistic backdrop for a vocal that sounds akin to One Dove’s quieter moments. Their second piece, ‘Sense in Scotland’, closes the record with a 13-minute epic that frames a nursery rhyme vocal with an increasingly dense chug. Building it into a monster-
sized space rock soundscape underpinned with little kosmische rhythms, it pulses towards another stratosphere. All of which makes for a messy package tour in waiting. (Neil Cooper) ■ beervsrecords.com
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stratosphere, and while this opening track is sheer grandstanding, they intend to back it up with an album of equally triumphant and emphatic crowd-pleasers. And the thing is, they manage to pull it off. Eschewing subtlety for robust, amped-up, meaty hooks, the French band’s
fifth album and first since 2009 is their most nakedly direct. They have long since ironed out the delicate creases and kinks that were pervasive on United, their charming curio debut from 2000, but this album still feels like the continuation of a natural progression. It has a real cocksureness and brio, dripping with a tangible sense of purpose and reeking of blockbuster.
Such brazen ambition may not appeal to everyone’s taste, but at least the quality of songs matches their lofty goals. ‘Trying to Be Cool’ has a perfect sunkissed groove, a seductive refrain (‘tell me that you want me’, purrs Thomas Mars) and an intoxicating insouciance that is impossible to resist. Ditto for ‘SOS in Bel Air’, albeit via more arm-flailing fashion than languid swaying. The louche downtempo grooves of the title track and ‘Chloroform’ regale with a grandiose levity: they are deft but still have an anthemic quality.
And if you think there is a brief respite, ‘Don’t’ and ‘Oblique City’ return to those pneumatic synths, reminiscent of Tears for Fears in terms of earnest keyboard- driven radio-approved pop rock. Bankrupt! is brash, unapologetic, full of pomp and self-assured tunes. This is the sound of a band trying to be as big as they possibly can, and done with such panache, the listener will want to be there with them. (Mark Keane)