calebt (Curator)

KEXP has been silently dumping loads of gems into the FMA. Teaser tracks off live sets from people like Sierra Leone's Refugee All Stars, Ladytron, and James Yuill are a few of the highlights from their star-studded offerings. It's clear they mean business, so take advantage.

One of particular interest is a stripped down performance from Seattle songwriter Vince Mira. Mira is an anomaly not to be skipped. His voice bears an uncanny resemblance to Johnny Cash (hence the title, which I admit I lifted off KEXP's archive, but, come on, it's pretty clever) -- enough to impress John Carter Cash, at least, who scooped him up to co-produce his first official release, Cash Cabin Session, which showcases a few of his own originals alongside a Spanish-language rendition of "Ring of Fire." With a face that could kill and a west-Texas wardrobe that wouldn't be out of place in the '50s, it's clear that Mira can play the part.

A Johnny Cash impersonator is all well and good, and certainly vaguely impressive in its own right, but there's a reason Mira is doing a weekly residence at the Can Can in Seattle, not playing Vegas. He writes sturdy, captivating stories set to deep melodies where his voice flourishes. The guitar-and-voice performance on KEXP is solid evidence of his singular talent. Mira is carving out an identity in spite of the Cash shadow, which is all the more impressive when I reveal that he is 17 years old. Or 16, I'm not sure, wikipedia just says that his birthday is in 1992, and I can't find out anywhere else. His songs are already well beyond his years, and there can only be more to come. So check him out now, or later, because Mira is here to stay.

Last week about forty rabid fans, myself among them, made the potentially perilous trip to Santos Party House for a concert featuring a band whose name noone can pronounce. Tonstartssbandht. Tahn-STARTS-band. I think. They made a track dedicated to explaining it and I still don't think I've mastered it. The brothers White have been terrorizing Montreal with their heavy samples and crippling melodies for a while, and this summer decided to take up residence in NYC.

Essentially opening for them at this show was Matthew Mondanile, playing as Ducktails but with a full band for the first time. In between rocking brutal versions of his summer psychedelia, Mondanile revealed his soft side - a shy, New Jersey kid hiding behind glasses and thanking his audience after every song.

Then came Tonstartssbandht. This show blew me away. They have a unique take on the sampler/vocal melody approach. Their debut album (cd-r?), An When, showcases the best of this side of the band. Their beats are heavy, their harmony delicate, intricate, and powerful. Powerful enough to be retailed at Other Music, at least. They have graciously posted a few tracks on the FMA, and hinted that there are more to come. They sound vaguely like Animal Collective, vaguely like the Beach Boys, vaguely like a youth choir backed by Led Zeppelin.

After working through their hits, however, they picked up their instruments. Eddy sat down at the drums and began pounding away like the prodigious gorilla from the Cadbury cream ad. Soon after, Andy picked up a guitar, turned off the delay, and unleashed up a tone that could've taken Wolverine in a fist fight. Suddenly, this was a rock show. The duo was leaping around, mixing noise and blues, demolishing eardrums, and reminding everyone why bands used to play instruments. In the future, music will sound something like this.

"Between the twelth [sic] and the fourteenth centuries, nearly all the major heretical sects - the Templars, the Waldensians, the Cathars -- were accused of worshipping the Devil in the form of a large black cat. Many contemporary accounts described how their rituals involved the sacrifice of innocent children, cannibalism, grotesque sexual orgies, and obscene acts of ceremonial obeisance toward huge cats which were supposedly kissed on the anus (sub cauda)"

-from The Domestic Cat, edited by Dennis C. Turner & Patrick Bateson

Just in case you were wondering, that's where the name Kiss the Anus of a Black Cat comes from. Stef Heeren makes eerie, Belgian psych folk under that pagan moniker, but the church hasn't stopped him yet. They did, however, burn all the other Knights Templar at the stake, so it's best to get his recordings while you still can. A few of Heeren's tracks are available on the FMA, and they'll only leave you wanting more. Kiss the Anus of a Black Cat is another Kraak superstar, so you can see why WFMU has such an affinity for the label. He's had plenty of airtime to date, and now his tracks are persecution-proofed forever in our archive, no matter what kind of grotesque sexual orgies Heeren gets himself involved in.

Recently, the Belgian record label Kraak gave the FMA the green light to go ahead and plunder their website for whatever sample mp3s they could find. Within a few days, a veritable Kraak pu-pu platter was made available through the FMA's burgeoning server.

One of the most attractive features of the catalogue is the glimpse it offers of the rise of the Belgian collective known as Studio Muscle. It started as the tape-label brainchild of Ingwio D'Hespeel, who in 1992 began putting out countless lo-fi pop tunes as Wio (coincidentally, it seems, Polish for "Giddyap!"). He soon drew comparisons to songwriters like Nick Drake, and Kraak happily released a full-length CD of carefully crafted songs, shoegaze fuzz-rock tinged with sentiment and humor.

Featured on many of these tunes were some of Wio's soon to be Belgian supergroup co-stars like Jurgen de Blonde (aka Köhn). De Blonde, for the most part, makes pop-sensible electronic soundscapes and glitch music. He lends an eerie, industrial edge that complements the warmth of Wio's fleshy pop melodies. Thrown into a blender with a couple other Bruges phenoms, De Portables was born in 1996, crooning electro-pop "post-rock" (as they lament being labeled) in impeccable English. All the while, Kraak was keeping tabs on Köhn and his various collaborations with Wio, and glimpses of their courtship are now preserved on the FMA. Köhn continues to produce solo albums, and Kraak continues to package and churn them out - a new LP entitled "We Need More Space In The Cosmos" is actually his first solo production since 2003, and Kraak is calling it "The comeback we were all waiting for!"

Presently, the Studio Muscle blog serves as the internet outpost for the now Belgian rockstars, offering images from the life and tracking the musical and visual output of the collective. De Portables are set to release a new full-length, and the Muscle is offering a preview track, alongside an outtake inspired by a beaver. Keep an eye on the flickr.

Wikipedia has a lot to say about the Pukeko, a New Zealand-bred relative of the Purple Swamp Hen. Most interesting, however, is the section on the birds' "roadside behavior" -- they forage in packs alongside New Zealand highways, looking for food and grit (preferably red, preferably not blue), until they wander onto the highway and are killed by passing vehicles.

Luckily, the Pukeko behind the production of the most recent Teengirl Fantasy E.P. lives nowhere near any New Zealand roads, and stumbles upon much more palatable grit. BJ Rubin is the face behind the blog, responsible for digging up high-quality gems like ancient Black Dice recordings and a High Places demo robbed straight from their cradle. But Rubin has matured from scavenger to predator and started a record label of his own, dubbed Dick Move, whose inaugural release was Knyfe Hyt's recent 12". Teengirl Fantasy struck his fancy when BJ saw their show at Vassar, and he happily released a digital copy of their new E.P., TGIF, on his blog.

Teengirl Fantasy, as Rubin notes, make computer music without computers. Their catchy, lethargic electronic compositions are constructed on a variety of samplers and synthesizers - notably a mini-Korg and a Roland Juno-G augmented by a variety of pedals. As a bonus, the duo records direct to tape. The difference is noticeable -- there is an analog/human warmth to their songs that would make Kraftwerk roll over in their grave. The E.P. is four catchy tracks that float along effortlessly, demonstrating an impressive amount of taste and control over their repeating melodies. Captivating, but not belligerent -- the music would be happy playing an Eno-esque background/ambient role, but never ceases to be interesting or engaging. Certainly a sign of good things to come.

Before the recent release of their summery Not Not Fun LP, Ducktails swung by the WFMU studios in the middle of a dark winter night to play a few songs for Marty McSorely. Nothing this band produces, however, is dark or wintery. The songs are a twangy wash of guitars, phasers and Casios, warm and comfortable as a hot tub, clean enough to swim in. The trio runs off a couple tracks from their new album, but also take the time to explore material done by some of the band member's side projects - their shimmering rendition of 'Let's Rock the Beach' is a fun introduction to Real Estate, another of Matthew Mondanile's current endeavors.

Tired of the strict compositional constraints (ha) of their regular catalogue, however, Ducktails also launches into an "extended jam" that lasts seven swirling minutes. It opens in signature Ducktails fashion, with a melodic guitar line wandering across a swelling milieu of synthesizers. Percussion is gradually introduced, accompanied by a series of watery sound effects and electronic birdcalls, and the tropical haze that Ducktails has learned to conjure slides into view. But there are distinct sections and a clear direction that drives the song from beginning to end, eschewing a frustrating monotony that occasionally rears its head on the LP. The Ducktails sound is described by the artists' themselves as 'vacation music in an elevator,' and while some of their songs could be so confined, the WFMU jam is more like riding an escalator up a Hawaiian volcano.