Conveniently located next to a bus stop in downtown Edinburgh, Scotland, Fopp is a chain of record stores around the UK, and this one had a lot of cool stuff in it – half of which I didn’t get to see because I got there about 20 minutes before they closed.
So, yes, first off – books, T-shirts, DVDs, and new music as soon as you walk in the door.
Vinyl? Of course there’s vinyl, as well as turntables and speakers.
Check out that Batman record between Nina Simone and Florence and The Machine!
There’s a wing of CDs as well, where I was tempted to grab about half a dozen things, but vinyl is king here.
Looking back, I should’ve grabbed that Radiohead shirt.
I did find a great CD score, however, settling for just one purchase since they were in the process of closing by the time I was sorting through many shelves of discs.
I’d been looking for stuff from The Limiñanas for a while, and here was a two-disc collection with 35 tracks. It was like finding a golden ticket in a Wonka bar.
There was an entire bottom floor full of DVDs and books that I didn’t get to see because of the short time I had there, but I’d happily go back. Don’t skip this place if you’re in Edinburgh.
Depending on whom you ask, the Five of Cups tarot card can symbolize disappointment, regret, or being stuck in a past you won’t leave. If the card is presented upside-down, it can mean you’ve moved on from such things, or are about to do so.
Austin, Texas psych-rockers Holy Wave seemed to have a mixture of both feelings when they made their newest album, Five of Cups. They’ve openly discussed how, with tours being canceled and venues closing all over the world, that a career in music was pretty much a bust. The world was full of pessimism and anger. Thankfully, instead of succumbing to all of it, they channeled the energy into this record.
The weird synths that boldly open title track set us off on an introspective journey as Ryan Fuson sings about fat cats getting fatter while the rest of us spend most of our time in a metaphorical hamster wheel to keep those cats fat. For such despairing lyrics, the song is rather lovely. “Bog Song” is just as lovely, with bright guitars from Fuson and Kyle Hager throughout it. I’m not sure if Fuson’s guitar or Julian Ruiz‘s drums are trippier on “Chaparral,” but Hager’s electric piano and synths add a nice slice of 1970s psych to the already smoky track. In it, the band make references to their original home town of El Paso, Texas and both the good and not-so-good things they left there when they moved to Austin to pursue that music career that would be derailed (along with everyone else’s) in 2019.
The find the best way to ride out the bad energy of the last couple years on “Path of Least Resistance.” Be like water, my friend. I mean, the guitars on this track certainly flow and (holy) wave like those at a Texas beachfront. They keep walking their groovy Zen path (with Joseph Cook‘s bass leading the way) on “Nothing Is Real.” The past to which you’re clinging? It’s not real. It never was. The future about which you’re stressing? That’s not real either. It never will be. The dreamy instrumentation and vocals encourage you to be here now. The present is the only real thing.
We all felt some sense of “Hypervigilance” at some point in the last four years, and many still feel it. “I’m not like you, ’cause they can’t find me,” Fuson sings, wanting to get away from everyone and everything, but knowing in his heart that such a path can lead to madness. He decides to find solace in truth (“I have a secret power. I can see through your shit.”) and, again, just be here now with that truth. The sound of “The Darkest Timeline” seems to indicate it was recorded in an empty pool, an abandoned theatre, a ghost town, or a shopping mall with only five stores left in it. In other words, it sounds amazing (and gets added flair from Mexican psych-duo Lorelle Meets the Obsolete helping out on the track).
By the time we get to “Nothing in the Dark,” Holy Wave are cranking the fuzz and vocal distortions as if to obliterate their fears and ours of what’s lurking outside our homes. The album ends with “Happier,” and the band, and us, coming out of that scary darkness into bright light, turning that Five of Cups card upside-down and deciding to move on from all of it.
If you’re going through hell, keep going. Don’t stop and hang out there. That’s the message of Five of Cups. You can get through it. You can emerge happier. I’m glad they did.
DJ Format (AKA Matt Ford) is obsessed with funky psychedelic music, and, lucky for us, was asked by BBE Records to put together a compilation of weird stuff from all over the globe for them. The result is Psych Out, and it’s everything you’d expect from its cover.
Starting with a fuzzy version of “Hava Nagila” by Singapore’s The Quests (which sounds like it would fit into a 1960s kaiju film with ease), the album is already off to a wonderfully weird start. The Tijuana Brats, hailing from the U.S., actually, bring the funk on “Karate Chop,” which needs to be in the next Black Dynamite movie. The U.K.’s Rainbow Family contribute “Travellin’ Lady,” which takes the compilation into stoner rock territory.
The CT Four Plus (hailing from West Germany, when that was still a thing) delight us with reverb-filled psychedelic guitar riffs and distant train horn harmonica sounds on “Exodus II,” making you want to desperately track down “Exodus I” (if it even exists). The Americans in 49th Blue Streak do a cover of Jimi Hendrix‘s “Foxy Lady” that might be earnest or might be a bit of a parody. I’m not sure. You won’t be either. It’s fun no matter the intent.
France’s Bana Pop Band blend psychedelia and funk with ease on “Jet Pop.” Hungary’s Koncz Zsuzsa uses electronic dance beats to back grungy, gritty guitar and lovely female vocals on “Visz a Vonat.” Not to be outdone on the grungy guitar front, Uruguay’s La Logia Sarabanda play one of the longest tracks on the compilation at just under four minutes, but it seems longer (in a good way) with its flowing guitar solos and meltdowns. Friar Truck and His Psychedelic Guitar (an American, not a Brit as you might expect with that nickname) plays a slowed down, half-baked version of “Louis, Louis” that might leave you feeling like you’re standing downwind at a Sublime cover band show.
You might think Flamengo‘s name is a riff on “Flamenco,” and thus guess they’re from Spain, but they’re from Czechoslovakia and their song, “Tyden V Elektrickem Meste” is a jangly, somewhat bluesy psych track with a cool saxophone solo. Sergio Ferraresi (hailing from Italy) takes us on a trip through the Time Tunnel on “Time of Machines,” which has some of the coolest guitar effects on the record.
Then, Poland’s Krzysztof Klenczon gets heavy on “Nie Przejdziemy Do Historii,” with his vocals booming just as loud as his squealing guitars. The Soviet Union’s (when that was also still a thing) Aleksandr SergeyevichZatsepin has us all doing “The Shaman’s Dance” – which contains a mix of funk band horns, guitar sounds that sound like a DJ scratching records, jazz piano, and sexy female vocal coos and moans. The compilation ends with Pro Arte (from Yugoslavia) and their trippy song, “Stari Dvorac,” which sends us out on a groovy note.
It’s a great compilation and one you should seek out if you love psychedelic music, world music, or odd music, or, heck, just music.
The Bandcamp page for Charm School‘s debut EP, Finite Jest, says the record “…is dedicated to complicated, heart-crushingly-too-real jokes everywhere.” I’m not certain if the jokes mentioned are actual spoken word jokes, or a reference to people that lead singer and songwriter Andrew Sellers thinks of as jokes. Either way, it’s a fairly accurate way to describe the EP.
It’s a grungy, sweaty post-punk record. “Non Fucking Stop” references people who don’t stop not stopping (“You’re owned by your phone.” / “Hair cut like you wanna be a big rock star, posting your image everywhere here and far.”). The guitar solo screams rage and frustration. “Simulacra” is a similar theme. The world itself references copies of things that never existed in the first place. “Speculate on speculation,” Sellers sings while attitude-filled bass thumps roll along behind him.
“Year of the Scorpion” builds and builds in volume, fuzz, and energy over its course with Sellers warning people that “it won’t get any better” and that “A scorpion’s going to do what a scorpion does.”, letting us know that first impressions of people are often correct and trying to force them to change always results in you being stung.
“Face Spiter” calms down a bit, with the guitars playing with shoegaze riffs here and there. The song seems to be about how easy it is to plunge into self-destruction in order to be noticed (“Too calculated, an ego inflated.”). The ending title track begins with marching song-like snare hits and then adds boot-stomping guitar chords to the mix. Seller’s vocals are almost spoken word mantras. “What you say is not what you say,” he says / sings, reminding someone of their duplicity while the guitars buzz like bees, or perhaps hornets. Again, more things that can sting you.
The whole EP stings at people who put on false fronts in order to appear happier than they are or superior to others when they’re secretly miserable. It’s a joke that will have a harsh, finite end for them, either in death or, in some ways worse, being revealed for who they are. They’re doing all they can to make the finite jest infinite, not realizing that ending the charade would reveal a truth so simple that they’d be laughing at the ridiculousness of the illusion they created.
On his thrilling and immersive debut album, Skeleten (producer / vocalist Russ Fitzgibbon) dares to imagine new ways of being that are not characterised by doom or despair – a challenge in an era defined more by feelings of futility, isolation and precarity. Across eleven tracks of free-flowing, transcendent, and often euphoric electronic music, he plays spiritual guide to a musical journey which is wonderfully in touch with realms beyond our own. Praising the power of comradery and community, dreaming of a future that is joyously boundless, Skeleten’s singular debut LP is, to borrow from one of his own lines, music for dancing “any way your body turns.”
After years of cutting his teeth in Sydney’s tight-knit electronic community, Fitzgibbon forged his own identity and debuted under his solo moniker, Skeleten in 2020. It’s his most personal project to date, the sound of him unfiltered for the first time as both a vocalist and producer. At once intimate and otherworldly, at the core of the project lies a strong sense of uncomplicated openness and a deeply rhythmic, meditative ambience. Strikingly unplaceable, the result is a curious yet alluring amalgam of far-flung influences and emotive atmospheres that invites you to get repeatedly lost in.
In between his debut and the long-awaited release of Under Utopia, Skeleten’s consistent output has seen him accrue rotation and early praise from Triple J, Double J, XLR8R, Stereogum, NME, The Guardian, BBC Radio 6 Music’s Recommends Spotlight Artist, Brooklyn Vegan and receive the official remix treatment from the likes of Logic1000, Moktar and Jennifer Loveless.
Under Utopia sees its release today via 2MR (North America) and Astral People Recordings (ROW) on vinyl and across all digital platforms.
