RYAN EMMETT “Pulling the Wool”
(White Reeves Productions)



More White Reeves Productions releases please! I’ve just discovered this Pittsburgh-based label, and I want more, right now. Did you hear me? If my gratification is not instant, it’s not fricking gratification now, is it? No way. So you’ll just have to get on it, there, Ryan Emmett.

Why do I single out Ryan Emmett you say? Is it because it’s his tape you’re reviewing? No. Far from being part of the problem (which I’ll get to in a second), Ryan’s tape is quite good, and I’m going to flip it over again after it’s done and re-listen to it. I single him out because he operates the label, along with Micah Pacileo, so the release schedule is on him. The problem, as alluded to, is that White Reeves only releases “limited edition physical documents of adventurous sound artists and musicians who are part of or friends of the White Reeves family.” The disclaimer adds, “Unfortunately we cannot accept demos at this time.” There it is! They’re actively not trying to release music by likeminded artists just because they don’t know them! For shame, Ryan Emmett. For shame.

I half kid, only because the releases I’ve heard from the label (Earth/Vessel’s self-titled tape being the other) are superior, far-out experimental excursions to who bloody knows where. The mere suggestion that I’m clamoring for more after only hearing two of the six releases in the catalog should be an indication that these dudes are on to something. Something big. Emmett builds sound formations using, I dunno, whatever he can find. What comes out is electronic-ish, noise-ish, but melodic, a world of weird possibilities and diversions. Think of Good Willsmith and the Caretaker unceremoniously smooshed together, along with other, equally interesting artists. It’s a milkshake!

This tape is really all over the place. Opener “The Never Ending Bend” teases with dank synth tones and flickering samples, then blooms (if you want to call it that) with a brass dirge. Tracks like “A Newly Polished Mirror” (parts 1 and 2) and “Almost There” feature queasily rendered instrumentation, such as sweet piano or strings, with ghostly ambient field recordings. “A Little Clicking Cupboard” even lives up to its name with a slight IDM pulse underneath the layers.

The title track, which at almost fifteen minutes stretches all across side B, is a diversion from the diversion, as it morphs into a warped version of a country and western song (think Roy Rogers, not Blake Shelton) piped in across dimensions, a ghost song sung by a ghost. Then it becomes an interstellar ambient prog passage for its remaining runtime, a gorgeous transmission from somewhere in the direction of the Virgo Cluster. It ends too soon.

So uh – I’m going to go to the website and buy the other tapes that didn’t come in my batch. Race you to the last copies!



--Ryan Masteller


LANTVRN “Hidden Door EP” C13



Jesus Hopscotch Christ this is ugly. And heavy. And…poppy? Is that a goddamn glockenspiel? Again? Electric Wizard bass tone? Outta-nowhere-carnival-organ-bridge? Alterna-grunge-y-vocals that are palatable enough to garner national attention on the radio waves? Carney-themed gang vocals taunting ‘la-la-la’? and now a recorded-in-a-garbage-can-blackmetal-guitar-riff?

What a fucking weird, brilliant mix!

and/or


- - Jacob An Kittenplan

ROBOT PRINCESS
“Teen Vogue LP + Action Moves EP”
(Fleeting Youth Records)



I’ve gotten past the point of having anything remotely relevant to say about indie rock. I just don’t, and it may be a disservice to budding rock bands, but I’m not in college anymore, my Built to Spill and Modest Mouse and Promise Ring and Unrest and Helium and Superchunk and Versus days are far behind me. That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy this music, it’s that I’ve just said it all before, in a less exhausted voice in a thousand conversations with likeminded fans.

Maybe there’s a narrative here, where the past comes to repeat itself over and over and we can’t escape the cycle. I mean, in 1996 everybody was probably sick of talking about The Replacements and Hüsker Dü and Dinosaur Jr. and Pixies and My Bloody Valentine, and I was a wide-eyed and fresh-faced youngster ready for action. We’ve all been there, and we’ll all be there again. Someday Robot Princess will shake their heads at the kids discovering Speedy Ortiz and LVL UP and Radiator Hospital and Bleeding Rainbow and a million other rock bands who are all good and who all deserve the same amount of respect and admiration.

Does it get diluted down through the years*? I dunno. People don’t, I can’t comment on bands. If you want to live in the absolute now, then there’s Robot Princess from Brooklyn. They’re a five-piece, they make energetic and fun music, and you should pay attention to them. They’re just super likable, and I’m not gonna get down on this whole deal anymore. I’m actually cracking a smile right now, and for that I thank Robot Princess. I hope they sell a lot of these tapes, because they should. They’re for everyone, even bastardy old curmudgeons like me!



--Ryan Masteller


 *editor's note: yes it get's diluted. try harder folks.                                                                                                                                     

THE SINGLEMAN AFFAIR “The End of the Affair” (Strange Weather Records)



Pretty. Rockin’. Pretty rockin’. This is the second tape I’ve received from Strange Weather Records now and I’m pleasantly surprised with the continued quality of throwback vibes –this time a psych-folk/rock one from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s- at times recalling ‘SF Sorrow’ Pretty Things or the earliest Grateful Dead (damn fine organ tone going on), and that’s a good thing. For fans of Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter or Brian Jonestown Massacre.

and/or

- - Jacob An Kittenplan

CROWN LARKS “Blood Dancer” C39
(Already Dead Tapes)



Make no mistake, Chicago’s Crown Larks have their credentials to certifiably Rock the Fuck Out, sure, but their true mastery of technical skill and composition comes out most strikingly in their slower moments. Note, I cannot in good conscience say ‘calmer’, as the entire tape could easily be a concept album of being stuck in a Really Bad Situation, with the task of walking NYC’s back alleys from dusk until dawn, nervously ambling past packed nightclubs, wo/men of the night, hobo fights, junkies making their final flight, distant ambulances constantly howling from just within earshot. This whole dis-ease is ubiquitous throughout these seven songs (only one of which falls markedly short of the five minute mark) and, damn, if it ain’t every bit as moody as blackmetal… but far more dynamic, really, like holding your hand through a darkened-rainbow-slew of varying panic attacks and near kidnappings, until some pinks tint the smog overhead and your halfway house is just around the corner.

Thoroughly enjoyable, if not a bit nerve wracking. Do yourself a favor and carve out some time to have a good sit with the entirety of it (via the bandcamp link below), as a cursory scanning won’t do it any justice.

and/or


- - Jacob An Kittenplan

MACAULAY COBAIN “Macaulay Cobain”
(self-released)



In the grand tradition of musicians cheekily naming themselves after famous people – Paul Newman, Harvey Milk, Sissy Spacek, … Sandy Duncan’s Eye – this tape has been conceived and executed my none other than Macaulay Cobain, a musician so mischievous that he just had to grab two famous monikers instead of just one. You minx! Macaulay Culkin is totally rolling in his grave. (Wait, no, that’s the other one.)

Rubbing my hands together with glee, I opened the tape case in the hopes that the playfulness extends to the music. Upon first inspection, I’m not sure what to think. There’s not a lot of info on the tape itself – it’s orange, that’s a good start. The shell is soft plastic, so it didn’t break in transit. It works when you press “Play” on your tape deck. All good things.

The thin, repetitive backmasked guitar meditations that greeted my freaking ears were a bit of a letdown. There’s no mood developed. The passages don’t change. There’s no dynamics. The recording quality is poor. Neither side distinguishes itself from the other in any way.

Ah well. Maybe I was being presumptuous. Maybe Macaulay’s parents – Mr. and Mrs. Cobain – really did bestow that moniker upon him, and he wasn’t being a jokester by recording under it. Maybe Macaulay is as sincere as he can get, and he’s just starting out with the whole meditative guitar thing. A noble pursuit for sure, but apparently you can’t just dive in. Keep trying, Macaulay, whoever you are!


--Ryan Masteller