The New Zealand duo of Richard Larsen and Rowan Pierce are the creative forces behind Glass Vaults. Their name perfectly describes the shimmering form of electronic music they have crafted on the five songs of the Glass EP (2010) and the four on the Into Clear EP (2011).
While both of these EPs are available in digital and streaming formats, I strongly recommend the vinyl editions. Great care has been taken to offer a premium presentation. Each comes with inserts, special label and cover art, and in the case of the Glass EP, one of the most creative uses of colored vinyl I have ever seen.
Glass opens with the slowly evolving ambience of the instrumental “They Will Grow.“ The piece seamlessly segues into “Set Sail,” a exquisitely moody, and introspective blend of vocals and atmospheres. Turn the record over and we embark on another autonomous three-song journey, which again blends together as nearly one. Glass Vaults venture a bit further out with the aptly titled “New Space.” Beneath the deeply hypnotic tones, something of a tribal sound emerges. “Worrier” moves into darker territory, and then we come to “Forget Me Not,” which stayed with me long after the grooves ran out.
The four-song Into Clear was released towards the end of 2011, and blended an even more intoxicating cocktail of sound. “Golden” opens in heaven, or at least a reasonable facsimile of it with the acoustic strums of an angelic guitar. These notes are soon joined by the sparkling ambient environment that Glass Vaults produce so well. Much like side one of Glass, the segue is seamless between the two songs that comprise the first half of this program. “It Looks Like Winter Water” is an 8:30 journey into the center of this glass vault, and is the single most impressive piece of music I have heard from them.
That is not to say that the flip-side of Into Clear is in any way inferior. “Gold Star,” and “Into Clear” blend together in a most satisfying manner. The title track is the closer, and only leaves one wanting more. Call me a “vinyl snob” if you will, but I think that for the extravagant packaging alone, these two EPs are something special. For those unfortunates who are suffering through life without a turntable however, Glass Vault’s label Jukboxr does offer the music in the CD and (gasp!) downloadable formats. I should also note here that their latest single "Crystallise" (which I have yet to hear) is available only as a download from the site, so maybe my "vinyl snobbery" is misplaced.
No matter what delivery system one chooses, both of these EPs offer a marvelously mysterious journey into the inner and outer realms of electronic music. Glass Vaults are something special indeed.
The Vinyl Paradise
Sunday, October 28, 2012
LP Review: Miles Davis - Bitches Brew [Remastered Edition]
From the moment the needle slides into the groove of “Pharoah’s Dance” on Miles Davis’ landmark Bitches Brew LP, the listener is transported. Forty years after its initial vinyl release, the album is back, as a limited audiophile edition double album. And it sounds better than ever.
I have been listening to this for at least the past 25 years, and every listen seems to bring out some new aspect of this dense, adventurous record.
There is probably not much a person can add to the discussion of one of the most influential albums in jazz history. But just for kicks I went back and looked at some of the original reviews, published in 1969. They are illuminating, to say the least. Why the so-called “underground” press did not jump all over Bitches Brew at the time is fascinating when you think about what was being touted as “revolutionary”. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, anyone? Or how about the endless blues workouts of Cream? I’m sorry, but remove the drugs and most of that stuff is un-listenable these days. Not so with Bitches Brew.
There are a number of reasons for this, beginning with the unprecedented line-up. Just a few of the musicians credited here include: John McLaughlin, Wayne Shorter, Chick Corea, Jack DeJohnette, and Joe Zawinul. Bitches Brew was the template of jazz well into the 1980s, in a lot of ways defining the last significant era of the music. And it really is some incredible music. The original release contained but six tracks, each a self contained exploration into the wonders of improvisation.
The side long title track may be the best of the best here. The sustained notes of Miles’ lonely trumpet in the opening are simply stunning, heralding a 27 minute journey into his own tortured soul. Most of side three is taken up by “Spanish Fly”, another cut that reveals more and more with each listen. The obvious comparison is with his own brilliant Sketches Of Spain, but “Spanish Fly” holds it’s own. For one thing, with Sketches Miles was reworking Rodrigo’s “Concierto De Aranjuez”, and “Spanish Fly” is wholly original. But Miles’ playing had evolved in the intervening 10 years as well. “Spanish Fly” really is an amazing song.
I own enough oddball vinyl records to have never ditched my turntable. Having heard people praise the quality of high end pressings such as MFSL over the years, I decided to do a little experiment with this one. I played this 180-gram Bitches Brew record track by track with the CD reissue to see if there really was a difference. To tell you the truth, the difference was astonishing. It sounded like the band were in the room with me at times with the vinyl version. Those remarkable sustained notes that Miles is so famous for seem to hang in the air forever. I guess I’ll have to stop putting those audiophile snobs down after hearing this.
The original liner notes by the great Ralph J. Gleason are reprinted in the gatefold cover as well, and they are remarkably prescient. This vinyl reissue of Bitches Brew is no mere marketing scam, the sound really is noticeably improved. On a record as uniformly great as this one, it is a welcome addition to the Miles Davis library.
There is probably not much a person can add to the discussion of one of the most influential albums in jazz history. But just for kicks I went back and looked at some of the original reviews, published in 1969. They are illuminating, to say the least. Why the so-called “underground” press did not jump all over Bitches Brew at the time is fascinating when you think about what was being touted as “revolutionary”. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, anyone? Or how about the endless blues workouts of Cream? I’m sorry, but remove the drugs and most of that stuff is un-listenable these days. Not so with Bitches Brew.
There are a number of reasons for this, beginning with the unprecedented line-up. Just a few of the musicians credited here include: John McLaughlin, Wayne Shorter, Chick Corea, Jack DeJohnette, and Joe Zawinul. Bitches Brew was the template of jazz well into the 1980s, in a lot of ways defining the last significant era of the music. And it really is some incredible music. The original release contained but six tracks, each a self contained exploration into the wonders of improvisation.
The side long title track may be the best of the best here. The sustained notes of Miles’ lonely trumpet in the opening are simply stunning, heralding a 27 minute journey into his own tortured soul. Most of side three is taken up by “Spanish Fly”, another cut that reveals more and more with each listen. The obvious comparison is with his own brilliant Sketches Of Spain, but “Spanish Fly” holds it’s own. For one thing, with Sketches Miles was reworking Rodrigo’s “Concierto De Aranjuez”, and “Spanish Fly” is wholly original. But Miles’ playing had evolved in the intervening 10 years as well. “Spanish Fly” really is an amazing song.
I own enough oddball vinyl records to have never ditched my turntable. Having heard people praise the quality of high end pressings such as MFSL over the years, I decided to do a little experiment with this one. I played this 180-gram Bitches Brew record track by track with the CD reissue to see if there really was a difference. To tell you the truth, the difference was astonishing. It sounded like the band were in the room with me at times with the vinyl version. Those remarkable sustained notes that Miles is so famous for seem to hang in the air forever. I guess I’ll have to stop putting those audiophile snobs down after hearing this.
The original liner notes by the great Ralph J. Gleason are reprinted in the gatefold cover as well, and they are remarkably prescient. This vinyl reissue of Bitches Brew is no mere marketing scam, the sound really is noticeably improved. On a record as uniformly great as this one, it is a welcome addition to the Miles Davis library.
LP Review: The Cult -Love [Expanded Edition]
Back in the heady days of 1985, post-punk had given way to goth, the paisley underground was still smoking, and hair metal was just beginning to rear its poofy head. This was very much a year of transition in music, but one record was on every hipster's turntable: Love by The Cult.
Most of us were introduced to this classic through the undeniable single "She Sells Sanctuary."
Despite the many great (and not so great) albums The Cult have released over the past 25 years, Love remains a huge fan favorite. As proof, you need look no further than the recent vinyl reissue from Beggars Banquet. The LP has been remastered on heavy-duty 180-gram vinyl, and a bonus twelve-inch single of "She Sells Sanctuary" remixes has been added. All of the original artwork is present, as well as the lyrics, and the whole thing is packaged in a sturdy, gatefold sleeve.
Love kicks off with the rousing choruses of "Nirvana," a big rock tune that should have been a hit. Next we find Billy Duffy's proto-metal guitar leading the charge with the commanding "Big Neon," and "Glitter." The dirge-like tempo of "Brother Wolf, Sister Moon" introduces two of Ian Astbury's lifelong obsessions; Native American mythology, and Jim Morrison. Side one closes with the stylish flourishes of "Rain." Flip over this weighty slab of plastic and the needle drops on "Phoenix," the group's first coliseum-sized blast of rawk. This song's sound, along with "Hollow Man," would come to dominate on later albums such as Electric and Sonic Temple. On Love though, it is still just part of the mix. The power ballad overtones of "Revolution" follow, and provide a cleansing of the palette before "She Sells Sanctuary."
Finally we reach the thoroughly goth-approved "Black Angel," which concludes Love in a suitably dark manner. On to the bonus twelve-single, which contains three remixed versions of "She Sells Sanctuary." Side A is comprised of the eight-minute "Howling Mix," and features the electronic facsimiles of wolves howling, amidst the added beats. The signature riff of the song is present, but that is about the only familiar aspect to this version. I found the B-side more interesting. The first cut is "Assault On Sanctuary," a very dubbed-out mix of the tune. Next is "Dogstar Radio Mix," which is most like the original, except for the added high beats per minute.
As a whole, the twelve-inch is a nice bonus, but primarily of interest to collectors. The job Beggars Banquet did with Love on this reissue is commendable. I doubt these songs have ever sounded better. For me, this is the one album by The Cult that is a must, and this vinyl reissue is outstanding.
Despite the many great (and not so great) albums The Cult have released over the past 25 years, Love remains a huge fan favorite. As proof, you need look no further than the recent vinyl reissue from Beggars Banquet. The LP has been remastered on heavy-duty 180-gram vinyl, and a bonus twelve-inch single of "She Sells Sanctuary" remixes has been added. All of the original artwork is present, as well as the lyrics, and the whole thing is packaged in a sturdy, gatefold sleeve.
Love kicks off with the rousing choruses of "Nirvana," a big rock tune that should have been a hit. Next we find Billy Duffy's proto-metal guitar leading the charge with the commanding "Big Neon," and "Glitter." The dirge-like tempo of "Brother Wolf, Sister Moon" introduces two of Ian Astbury's lifelong obsessions; Native American mythology, and Jim Morrison. Side one closes with the stylish flourishes of "Rain." Flip over this weighty slab of plastic and the needle drops on "Phoenix," the group's first coliseum-sized blast of rawk. This song's sound, along with "Hollow Man," would come to dominate on later albums such as Electric and Sonic Temple. On Love though, it is still just part of the mix. The power ballad overtones of "Revolution" follow, and provide a cleansing of the palette before "She Sells Sanctuary."
Finally we reach the thoroughly goth-approved "Black Angel," which concludes Love in a suitably dark manner. On to the bonus twelve-single, which contains three remixed versions of "She Sells Sanctuary." Side A is comprised of the eight-minute "Howling Mix," and features the electronic facsimiles of wolves howling, amidst the added beats. The signature riff of the song is present, but that is about the only familiar aspect to this version. I found the B-side more interesting. The first cut is "Assault On Sanctuary," a very dubbed-out mix of the tune. Next is "Dogstar Radio Mix," which is most like the original, except for the added high beats per minute.
As a whole, the twelve-inch is a nice bonus, but primarily of interest to collectors. The job Beggars Banquet did with Love on this reissue is commendable. I doubt these songs have ever sounded better. For me, this is the one album by The Cult that is a must, and this vinyl reissue is outstanding.
LP Review: Weather Report - Heavy Weather
While Weather Report were always a collaborative effort, it took the addition of bassist Jaco Pastorius for them to reach their true potential. In 1977, they exceeded all expectations with Heavy Weather.
After recording Bitches Brew with Miles Davis, Joe Zawinul and Wayne Shorter formed Weather Report in 1971. The group recorded six albums prior to Heavy Weather, including the underrated Mysterious Traveller. Each of these had their moments, but none of them completely gelled.
When Pastorius joined in late 1976, everything came together for Weather Report. Heavy Weather’s status as one of the finest fusion albums of all time is well deserved. 32 years after it’s initial release, Heavy Weather still sounds as fresh as ever.
Much of the credit goes to Zawinul, whose signature tune “Birdland” kicks things off in high style. Zawinul’s genius as a composer is his lack of ego. In so much of his music it is difficult to place him as the author without reading the credits. The reason is simple. He never used his own songs as an excuse to showboat, which so many others often did. When he does take a keyboard solo though, it is typically electrifying.
Co-conspirator Wayne Shorter’s sax is used to great effect all over Heavy Weather also. One of the chief complaints about Weather Report’s earlier recordings was that Shorter was not being utilized enough. The situation is remedied nicely on his own “Palladium” and the album’s closer, “Havana.”
The real star of Heavy Weather is Jaco Pastorius. It is unfortunate that this troubled genius never received the credit he should have in his lifetime. There is no exaggeration in the claim that Pastorius did for the electric bass what Hendrix did for the electric guitar. One listen to his “Teen Town” or “Havana” will confirm this sentiment without a doubt.
While most of my generation were listening to Led Zeppelin, or the imported sounds of punk in 1977, somehow Heavy Weather filtered through the haze. For many of us, it served as an introduction to the then contemporary sounds of jazz.
It’s too bad that few, including Weather Report themselves, were able to equal Heavy Weather in the ensuing years. This is a record that is a serious contender for best fusion album of the 1970’s. The new 180 gram Columbia Legacy audiophile vinyl reissue is a perfect way to hear this remarkable recording. Regardless of format though, Heavy Weather is an outstanding achievement, definitely one worthy of a spin.
After recording Bitches Brew with Miles Davis, Joe Zawinul and Wayne Shorter formed Weather Report in 1971. The group recorded six albums prior to Heavy Weather, including the underrated Mysterious Traveller. Each of these had their moments, but none of them completely gelled.
When Pastorius joined in late 1976, everything came together for Weather Report. Heavy Weather’s status as one of the finest fusion albums of all time is well deserved. 32 years after it’s initial release, Heavy Weather still sounds as fresh as ever.
Much of the credit goes to Zawinul, whose signature tune “Birdland” kicks things off in high style. Zawinul’s genius as a composer is his lack of ego. In so much of his music it is difficult to place him as the author without reading the credits. The reason is simple. He never used his own songs as an excuse to showboat, which so many others often did. When he does take a keyboard solo though, it is typically electrifying.
Co-conspirator Wayne Shorter’s sax is used to great effect all over Heavy Weather also. One of the chief complaints about Weather Report’s earlier recordings was that Shorter was not being utilized enough. The situation is remedied nicely on his own “Palladium” and the album’s closer, “Havana.”
The real star of Heavy Weather is Jaco Pastorius. It is unfortunate that this troubled genius never received the credit he should have in his lifetime. There is no exaggeration in the claim that Pastorius did for the electric bass what Hendrix did for the electric guitar. One listen to his “Teen Town” or “Havana” will confirm this sentiment without a doubt.
While most of my generation were listening to Led Zeppelin, or the imported sounds of punk in 1977, somehow Heavy Weather filtered through the haze. For many of us, it served as an introduction to the then contemporary sounds of jazz.
It’s too bad that few, including Weather Report themselves, were able to equal Heavy Weather in the ensuing years. This is a record that is a serious contender for best fusion album of the 1970’s. The new 180 gram Columbia Legacy audiophile vinyl reissue is a perfect way to hear this remarkable recording. Regardless of format though, Heavy Weather is an outstanding achievement, definitely one worthy of a spin.
LP Review: Herbie Hancock - Thrust
Thrust
There was a period in the mid 1970’s that fusion took a serious detour into funk. This was reflected in the mainstream with Quincy Jones’ famous “Sanford And Son” TV theme. Miles Davis was exploring this direction pretty seriously with his On The Corner LP also. But Herbie Hancock’s 1974 album Thrust remains the definitive statement of the style.
Columbia Legacy has recently re-released Thrust on vinyl, and it is really a nice set. The 180 gram Audiophile pressing sounds remarkably warm, much better than the original mass produced records did. Naturally, the original liner notes and packaging are intact as well.
Leaving the format aside for a moment though, Thrust is just an excellent record, one of Hancock’s best. The opening cut, “Palm Grease” is a funk workout, with obvious nods to Parliament and The Meters in the grooves. “Actual Proof” continues in this vein, with great solos by everyone, particularly by Hancock himself.
At 11 minutes plus, “Butterfly” was always my favorite song on Thrust. It is nowhere near as R&B oriented as the rest of the record, but sometimes a change of pace is in order. This is a languid tune, with plenty of room for the quintet to stretch out in understated improvisation. Four years later, Steely Dan would use “Butterfly” as a blueprint of sorts for Aja. In the Eighties this sound would come to be known as “Quiet Storm.” Over the years, “Butterfly” has remained an extremely influential piece of music.
Thrust ends with the funkiest groove of all, “Spank-A-Lee.” Drummer Mike Clark is totally “on the one,” and Paul Jackson’s bass threatens to pop out of the speakers. Herbie Hancock’s amazing solos and synth colorings are as distinctive and unexpected as ever, and bring this four song record to a triumphant conclusion.
In any format, is a great recording. But my recommendation is for you to pull the old turntable out of mothballs and fire up this new vinyl version. It sounds so good, you may wonder why you ever switched over to CDs in the first place.
There was a period in the mid 1970’s that fusion took a serious detour into funk. This was reflected in the mainstream with Quincy Jones’ famous “Sanford And Son” TV theme. Miles Davis was exploring this direction pretty seriously with his On The Corner LP also. But Herbie Hancock’s 1974 album Thrust remains the definitive statement of the style.
Columbia Legacy has recently re-released Thrust on vinyl, and it is really a nice set. The 180 gram Audiophile pressing sounds remarkably warm, much better than the original mass produced records did. Naturally, the original liner notes and packaging are intact as well.
Leaving the format aside for a moment though, Thrust is just an excellent record, one of Hancock’s best. The opening cut, “Palm Grease” is a funk workout, with obvious nods to Parliament and The Meters in the grooves. “Actual Proof” continues in this vein, with great solos by everyone, particularly by Hancock himself.
At 11 minutes plus, “Butterfly” was always my favorite song on Thrust. It is nowhere near as R&B oriented as the rest of the record, but sometimes a change of pace is in order. This is a languid tune, with plenty of room for the quintet to stretch out in understated improvisation. Four years later, Steely Dan would use “Butterfly” as a blueprint of sorts for Aja. In the Eighties this sound would come to be known as “Quiet Storm.” Over the years, “Butterfly” has remained an extremely influential piece of music.
Thrust ends with the funkiest groove of all, “Spank-A-Lee.” Drummer Mike Clark is totally “on the one,” and Paul Jackson’s bass threatens to pop out of the speakers. Herbie Hancock’s amazing solos and synth colorings are as distinctive and unexpected as ever, and bring this four song record to a triumphant conclusion.
In any format, is a great recording. But my recommendation is for you to pull the old turntable out of mothballs and fire up this new vinyl version. It sounds so good, you may wonder why you ever switched over to CDs in the first place.
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