My Little Corner Of The World – Volume 46

by Vinh on March 2nd, 2010

Zabrinski – Ill Gotten Game (2005)
Ill Gotten Game was the final offering from Zabrinski before they decided to call it a day in 2007. Like fellow Welshmen Super Furry Animals, they were able to weld pop sounds of the past with electronic touches of the future. The overall feeling of dismay at the modern world is peppered all across the record with telling song titles such as ‘Mother My Faith In Human Kindness Has Somewhat Faded’, ‘Feeding On Our Filth’, and Seal My Cave’ setting the scene. The lyrical tone is mainly of regret, anger, and confusion with the society’s so-called progress, especially on the title track during which singer Matthew Durbridge laments that “Every single day when I wake up I just hear the sounds of drills and sirens ringing through my ears” before taking on some of the blame. “Do I look as guilty as I feel?” he asks before the song explodes into a storm of computerized mayhem. Imagine a world where Super Furry Animals and Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci are king and you’ll be in a place where the music of Zabrinski makes more than perfect sense. – Matthew James

Cymande – Renegades Of Funk (2005)
I first heard this album on a slow night in my favorite bar. ‘Dove’ had been absolutely blowing my mind for the past ten minutes when I finally asked the bartender what we were listening to. Instead of simply answering the question, he bought me a PBR and told me about an all-night road trip that was underscored by Cymande’s Renegades Of Funk. Evidently, when the sun came up, he realized that he’d been listening to the same album through three states and hadn’t even wanted to stop for anything but gas. I bought the album and quickly learned that this falls into the category of album that can’t be talked about without telling a story. It’s a perfect album for a hip bar, a road trip, or for a day spent lazily laying in the grass. Cymande’s sexy smooth funk fuses with the listener’s mood, action, and state of mind. It’s definitely funk from start to finish but every single groove is a hook. It smoothly switches from major to minor keys while sliding in and out of eastern modes. It’s such an incredibly versatile album that it’s nearly impossible to take out of rotation once it’s in. Every time I play Renegades Of Funk, someone asks me what we’re listening to and it seems like I have a different story every time. – Jeremy Schaefer

Yo La Tengo – And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out (2000)
I realize that listening to this album earlier this week as my first foray into YLT’s extensive catalog, I’m almost 25 years behind. The sheer enormity of their material is actually part of the reason why it took me so long, even though I’ve seen them live a couple of times, but I have seen the error of my ways. This, their ninth full-length, was not what I expected based on my live sampling. Perhaps I started with the wrong album, but here I found delicate and beautiful songs that are restrained yet comfortable. Of course, the album features some of their trademark noise-rock, including highlight and fan-favorite ‘Cherry Chapstick’, but these instances seem out of place on a record so relaxed and confident without ever losing interest. This can be difficult to do on 17-minute excursions like closer ‘Night Falls On Hoboken’, but over their lengthy career, Yo La Tengo have shown they can change speeds to keep you on your toes and still never lose the edge that has excited listeners since the 80s. – Paul Bulow

Sibylle Baier – Colour Green (2006)
Much like an individual who cannot discern the sarcasm found in commonplace conversation, Sibylle Baier’s first full-length took a frighteningly literal approach to “lost treasure”. These feathery, exquisite folk numbers were initially recorded in the early 70s yet only saw the light of day four years ago when J Mascis received a copy and subsequently relayed it to Orange Twin Records. Many have likened Colour Green’s 14 tracks to those of a female Nick Drake and while elegant melancholy does reign supreme, the two artists rest in decidedly separate pastures (barring closer ‘Give Me A Smile’ which features lavish instrumentation redolent of Five Leaves Left). Baier’s craft isn’t quite as world-weary or elemental as Drake’s — she emphasizes personal minutiae, minor concerns that can add up to hamper the quotidian over time — rather she provides the insular answer to Vashti Bunyan’s bucolic call. These resemble diary entries, yet not of a histrionic hormone-ravaged adolescent. These are the sobering cogitations of a woman observing the humdrum as it glides by, contemplative musings defined by a profound pining for more, for life beyond stifling convention and compromise. The arrangements, while enticing on their own, serve primarily to anchor a velvety timbre, insouciant at times and impassioned at others. Indeed, Colour Green’s finest moments occur in concordance with Baier’s finest vocal takes, when her instrument stretches out so thin it nearly cracks under the strain of daily erosion. Unable to escape the shackles of routine when the sun was out, she would pull out the tape machine late at night and strum “softly in my heart of mine” with a hushed grace that could transport her family to golden slumbers if they weren’t already tuckered out. Tragic, sumptuous, breathtakingly intimate, this is sterling bedroom folk carrying such little regard for an audience that over three decades would elapse before it opened its doors to the public. – Vinh Cao