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Kid Koala records are, by and large, fairly consistent affairs, and this, the third Kid Koala LP now to offer the same charming mixture of nonsense samples and expert turntablism clinging to a skeleton of old jazz and funk records, doesn't disappoint. As per usual, Your Mom's Favorite DJ flaunts Kid Koala's excellent nose (ear?) for samples, which range from the terribly hip (Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant) to the incredibly banal (CSI: NY) to the completely obscure (just about everything else).
Whilst there is nothing on the new record that is as fully realised as "Basin Street Blues" or as emotive as "Space Cadet 2," both from 2003's Some of My Best Friends Are DJ's, this is not to suggest that the new record is devoid of great moments. Rather, the focus this time around seems to have been on putting together a party album, and, at this, Kid Koala succeeds admirably.
Entire review of Kid Koala - Your Mom's Favorite DJ
Belvedere Jehosophat - Monday, April 28, 2008
(The Jicks now feature Janet Weiss of the late Sleater-Kinney.)
It's somewhat disconcerting to note that Malkmus' latest effort despite being a song shorter than its predecessor is actually a good twelve minutes longer. Even more disconcerting are the opening guitars — which wail quite readily — and the opening lyrics, "of all my stoned digressions..." In short, Real Emotional Trash threatens to be a stoner nightmare, full of never-ending guitar jams and short on what could comfortably be described as songs.
Entire review of Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks - Real Emotional Trash
Belvedere Jehosophat - Tuesday, April 1, 2008
How does My Disco top Cancer, that exercise in harsh, mechanical, angular, minimalist rock music? Well, by becoming harsher, more mechanical, more angular and manifestly more minimalist than one could imagine possible.
"|," the first song, is a statement of purpose: essentially, the same note is struck again and again with a little percussion thrown in for good measure. This, then, becomes a rough template for the rest to come on Paradise — the bass hitting one or two notes, often in odd meter, the drums crashing along with mind-boggling precision and the guitars producing all sorts of ungodly noise.
Entire review of My Disco - Paradise
Belvedere Jehosophat - Tuesday, March 25, 2008
La Cucaracha is the brown-sounding album that Deaner promised quebec would be all those years ago. It's hard to tell whether Ween are sounding more manic than usual (or at least since Chocolate and Cheese) or whether it just seems like that because La Cucaracha, in terms of production, lacks the sheen of their previous few records.
Whichever way and for whatever reason, La Cucaracha is a diverse record, and one in which Ween hops between genres with their usual astounding ease. The woozy reggae of "The Fruit Man" comes instantly to mind, as does the weird bluegrass-ish "Learnin' to Love." The former, though perhaps this is a contentious statement, is the best song on the album.
Entire review of Ween - La Cucaracha
Belvedere Jehosophat - Sunday, January 20, 2008
It's been twelve-odd years since Thurston last released a record of what could comfortably be described as pop music, and Trees Outside the Academy is a seamless collection of catchy, catchy pop songs.
Contrary to the picture on the cover of the record, Thurston in fact spends the bulk of his time playing an acoustic guitar. If that weren't unexpected enough, his principal cohort (apart from fellow yoofer, Steve Shelley, on drums) is violinist, Samara Lubelski. These rather unpredictable developments, it must be said, gel completely to make for a record that is criminally catchy and criminally well written.
Entire review of Thurston Moore - Trees Outside the Academy
Belvedere Jehosophat - Thursday, January 17, 2008
On the shelves of the second hand book store with no direction and even less in misdirection. Lady at the register plants a foot on the counter and yammers on about domestics. Too bad "CLOSED" on the front door is facing the inside. Moths fall and roll into dust and carpet bolls.
From the land of the non-register, where aliens and probes go deeper than the tube at the clinic as the doctor squirts more lube on his gloves. For the ease of the operation they say. A smile is most disconcerting to the method and procedure. Area 51 by Robert Doherty (pseudonym). First in a series. Of what, matters not. End it here thank you kindly. Drown it all in Groom Lake.
Entire review of Area 51 - Robert Doherty
Ethan Switch - Thursday, December 6, 2007
None Shall Pass is conceptual, I'm sure of it, though the concept I've yet to penetrate. And in the crafting of this alleged concept, Aesop Rock has twisted together a claustrophobic, dark collection of songs whose sounds waver between three points demarcated, somewhat roughly, by Labor Days, the nicer parts of Bazooka Tooth and Fast Cars, Danger, Fire and Knives.
Cage, Rob Sonic, Breezly Brewin' and El-P each drop a verse, and all, as might be expected, do exceptionally fine work, though they never come close to shining, rhyme-wise, as brightly as Aesop does. John Darnielle, of The Mountain Goats, also guests on the final final track of the album — the one that appears after the silence that follows the actual final track — a nice folksy little song about pigs — pigs perhaps metaphorical, perhaps just literal.
Entire review of Aesop Rock - None Shall Pass
Belvedere Jehosophat - Wednesday, October 3, 2007
It's been a few years now since Shellac released their last record, 1000 Hurts, and, luckily, nothing has happened during this time to compromise their tendency to be completely unaccommodating and unpersonable. Shellac is still Shellac, and for this we should be thankful. The skronky guitars are still in play, as are the bizarre time signatures and that strange Albini production wherein the vocals are so low in the mix that it's hard to make out the lyrics.
Excellent Italian Greyhound kicks off with "The End of Radio," a song which easily rates as one of Shellac's best. This song is a little reminiscent of Terraform's "Didn't We Deserve a Look At You the Way You Really Are," but only in that both songs are constructed around a very basic set of repeated notes. There, though, the similarity ends - there being nothing else quite like Albini's philosophical rant about the end of radio. This song is simply stunning.
Entire review of Shellac - Excellent Italian Greyhound
Belvedere Jehosophat - Thursday, September 6, 2007
Most certainly a defunct publication, but a publication with text, words and things to read inside nevertheless. Well, things to do with objects otherwise looking for the recycling bin to provide its blanket of warmth and pulp goodness. Prop it up against the back of the neck and feel the abscess you monkey. Feel it!
So it is, a newsletter from Brian Dead Comix of Australia and from the postal address, out of Panania. Brain Dead Comix, they what did things such as City Litter and... this. Heavy skew with the one count to the whole set.
Entire review of Star Wars Newsletter from Brain Dead Comix
Ethan Switch - Thursday, June 28, 2007
Dip the 3D glasses in the sink and hand them fresh to the patrons. Watch as they find a speckle of water on their lenses and force themselves to smooth out the warp of plastic in the novelty size visors. To no avail of course, merely on there to spur them to wipe clean and wipe away the smear between them and the massive drop of a theatre screen otherwise known as the LG IMAX screen. Massive, and clearly the kind of screen all gamers should throw up on as they look for the super hidden secret whistle for that plumber from Brooklyn loves his fluting so.
Donald Sutherland, father of Keifer, and man with a hairy face to match an equally hairy voice. Perfect for narration on documentaries. And here, on the typical creatures wandering around times of the prehistoric, them goliaths which predate the mutant spawn over in Japan they call Godzilla. Here there be monsters known as dinosaurs. And in particular, with a name for Dinosaurs 3D: Giants of Patagonia, them roaming the wilds of Argentina.
Entire review of Dinosaurs 3D: Giants of Patagonia - IMAX Sydney, Darling Harbour
Ethan Switch - Friday, June 15, 2007
No Shouts No Calls is an undemanding record, perhaps the most undemanding of Electrelane's career, and the reason looks to be a simple one: Verity Susman's heart has broken, and, as a result, abstract artiness has given way to candor.
An inverse of Axes, No Shouts No Calls is mostly songs with vocals with a few instrumentals thrown in for good measure, and it is, of course, with the help of the lyrics that we get an impression of the heartbroken nature of the album. These are the most personal lyrics that Susman has yet written — or, if not the most personal, then certainly the most explicit. The candidness meshes well Electrelane's customarily bittersweet music.
Entire review of Electrelane - No Shouts No Calls
Belvedere Jehosophat - Wednesday, May 16, 2007
It's been a few years since El-P unleashed his last monstrosity, Fantastic Damage, onto the world. It's nice to see that, in what is relatively quite a long time, none of El-P's misanthropy has been compromised. Make no mistake, I'll Sleep When You're Dead is a jarring, irate record. Aided by a misfit collection of guests: Aesop Rock, Cage, Cat Power, The Mars Volta and Trent Reznor, plus some additional backing vocals from several other notable figures, I'll Sleep When You're Dead is, too, ambitious in scope, stitching together a vast array of clashing sounds. And therein lies the genius of both this record and El-P: the production. El-P's beats are a spectacular mess, so mind-bogglingly removed from the typical kick-kick-snare, that they leave you feeling a little off-kilter, trying to find some semblance of pattern or consonance.
I'll Sleep When You're Dead is also, on par with the music, quite lyrically dense, mixing three parts paranoia to two schizophrenia. Naturally, El-P's typical bragging and self-aggrandisement is in no short supply here. And, just as naturally, it's hard to begrudge the man when it's quite clear that his hyperbole is backed by some of the best production and rapping in the game.
Entire review of El-P - I'll Sleep When You're Dead
Belvedere Jehosophat - Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Patterned somewhat loosely on Primo Levi's excellent book, The Periodic Table, in which 21 chemical elements are used as a theme for a series of short stories, Genome, by exploring each of the 23 pairs of chromosomes, attempts to give a brief synopsis of the human species.
Starting with the longest chromosome and — done so arbitrarily — proceeding to the shortest, Ridley tackles a series of themes which he believes to be representative of the human species — life, species, history, fate, environment, intelligence, etc. Ridley explores these themes by focussing on a gene that can be found on the relevant chapter/chromosome and tracing its function and evolution. In doing this he considers not only the chromosome in question and the genes it houses, but also how it relates to his overarching theme.
Entire review of Matt Ridley - Genome: The Autobiography of a Species in 23 Chapters
Belvedere Jehosophat - Sunday, April 22, 2007
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