Approximately ten years ago, we ran a rave review for the eponymously titled debut full-length album by Express Rising, the solo musical project of Chicago-based producer/record collector/general polymath Dante Carfagna. In hindsight, that LP was a hazy, textural loner-folk album masquerading as an instrumental hip-hop record, which over time has rightly become a bona fide cult artifact and musical touchstone for many of those fortunate to have either owned or heard it in the intervening years. Probably a lot of people who loved that album felt that the project had most likely been shelved, but then here, somewhat out of the blue, is its glorious follow-up.

Not that Carfagna hasn't been busy, supplying labels like Cali-Tex and Numero with content from his prodigious collection, and masterminding some of the best conceived and executed compilations in recent years, like last year's Personal Space, as well as the infamous Chains & Black Exhaust comp from a while back. His affinity for artists working the parameters of the DIY home studio is more than apparent here, as he brings eleven instrumental tracks all recorded in the foyer of his longtime apartment in Chicago. Where the previous album was largely comprised of inscrutable and mysterious samples, this one features a battery of finger-picked guitars, organs, and lazy pedal-steels. Simple, compelling riffs and exceedingly lovely and low-key melodies abound, as each composition utilizes a few discrete elements that do nothing less than evoke the ruins of half-forgotten memory palaces and subterranean caves. This music is dimly lit like the blinds drawn on a Saturday afternoon, and thoroughly imbued with a nostalgia you can't quite place. It sounds like nothing less than a brilliant amalgamation of the Hired Hand soundtrack, the classic, endlessly mellow tune "Albatross" by Fleetwood Mac, and the inward guitar excursions of Durutti Column's Vini Reilly at his best. Man, just put it on and breathe easy already. [MK]

The recent reevaluation and reissue of the excellent and influential Black Jazz label's catalogue continues with this killer collection of tracks selected by none other than Theo Parrish. Following fantastic compilations curated by Mitsu the Beats and Gilles Peterson, Parrish takes the baton and runs a marathon with it, choosing twelve of his personal favorite tracks from the label's twenty-one albums, and presents them in a continuous mix that's filled with all of the soul, spirit, and fire that the imprint has become known for amidst jazz aficionados. It's worth noting that if you're expecting Parrish to reconstruct these cuts into pieces akin to his Ugly Edits or solo productions, you'll perhaps be somewhat disappointed; instead, he simply lets the music speak for itself with little to no intrusion on his part. With that being said, the selections still offer a telling glimpse into his musical DNA, shuffling between bristling polyrhythmic funk workouts, shuffling Brazilian bossa nova interludes, a bit of freeform improvisation, and plenty of robust playing that at times sets aside polish and sheen for pure, rough-edged FEELING. As is the case with all of Black Jazz's releases, the playing is nothing but top-notch, and Parrish taps into a broad range of instrumentation throughout, from the intricate fretwork of Calvin Keys' guitar to the robust saxophone playing of Rudolph Johnson. He gives ample focus upon the label's piano and keyboard players, with nearly every selection featuring a deep, passionate, and often complex palette of ivory-caressed magic. This is arguably the finest intro to the Black Jazz label I've yet heard, as it shies away from trying to overload the listener with countless cuts and edits, instead choosing some simply breathtaking music to grab you by the lapels and fly you away on a journey, much in the way Theo's own music is wont to do, and it gives trainspotters plenty to chew on when it comes to laying out key blueprints toward Parrish's approach to creating tracks of his own. All in all, you're getting the best of both parties' worlds, and what better recommendation could I possibly give than that? [IQ]

Anyone who expected Volcano Choir's 2009 debut to be a Bon Iver record was seriously mistaken; with Justin Vernon's iconic voice appearing only sporadically in a vast ocean of otherworldly sounds and eerie acoustic textures, Unmap was not the work of a heartbroken singer-songwriter, but the experiment of a rising identity. On the group's sophomore album, however, it seems the members have chosen to finally please those eager For Emma-lovers with a folk-rock record on which Bon Iver's characteristic vocals are the core of nearly each song's success.

Vernon, who has never been especially notable for his big hooks, relishes in them here, as he roughly moans through enticing and heart-wrenching melodies, making Repave not only an accessible listen, but also a beautiful one. "Take note, there's still a hole in your heart," the repeated pounding chorus on "Dancepack," will undoubtedly resound in some large arena when Volcano Choir chooses to go on tour, along with a few guitar riffs (most memorably on "Byegone") that exude crowd head banging. Although he certainly assumes the majority of the spotlight here, Justin Vernon could not have made this record alone; this is a real band that transforms the love songs of a singer-songwriter into a fuller affair. Album closer "Almanac" even brings hints of electronic loops that bolster and harmonize with Vernon's strolling falsetto melodies. Repave strikes more cohesive and direct than its predecessor. Sure, there's less variety, sonic experimentation, and altogether "weirdness," but the rock anthems are consequently much more confident. Volcano Choir's second LP is bound to shock any fan of Bon Iver's acoustic subtleties, while undoubtedly alluring any fan of Vernon's durable and dynamic songwriting ability on either one of his solos or Volcano Choir's debut. [MM]

To say that Neko Case is a force to be reckoned with would be a ridiculous understatement. With her first solo album in four years, The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You, she's blowing the roof off of everything, drawing an intimate portrait of herself navigating life after the death of both of her parents and her grandmother in a short span of time. Case, armed with humor and hellfire, is exploring what it means to be completely alone and utterly unattached in the world. Opening with "Wild Creatures," she defiantly declares: "I'm not fighting for your freedom, I am fighting to be wild." Case also relishes her toughness, asserting on "Man," "I'm a man... it's what kind of animal I am" and warning on "I'm From Nowhere," "if you only knew what my candied fists could do." But she isn't afraid to be laid completely bare either, admitting on "Night Still Comes," "I've revenged myself, all over myself, there's nothing you can say to me." Case's blend of bluesy, country-infused folk has never sounded better and those glorious pipes of hers can soften even the harshest of blows. Though it may have been born out of depression, Case has created a record that's absolutely life affirming. [KB]

These days, we are regularly treated to unnecessary deluxe editions of records we've all heard a million times already, and others that were probably best left in the scrap heap of history. Roky Erickson's The Evil One is not one of those -- yes, I've probably spun this LP a billion times but I still crank it regularly, and it's been criminally unavailable over the years, even upon original 1981 release on San Francisco new wave label 415 Records -- and this expanded edition is the only version you will ever need of one of the most essential rock and roll albums of all time. His first proper solo LP after the 13th Floor Elevators ended in '69 with Roky's three-and-a-half-year stint at Rusk State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, he was working on new material by the mid '70s that pushed the Elevators' psychedelic sound more towards driving hard rock, with pummeling guitars and lyrics obsessed with aliens, zombies and horror-movie creatures. For my money, this era is more powerful than all but a handful of the best Elevators tracks, and these are the only versions you need of about ninety percent of Roky's best solo material -- "Two Headed Dog," "I Walked with a Zombie," "It's a Cold Night for Alligators," "Night of the Vampire," "Mine Mine Mind," "I Think of Demons," "Don't Shake Me Lucifer," "Creature with the Atom Brain," "Bloody Hammer," the list goes on and on. This expanded edition (2xLP, single CD) combines two albums that came out of sessions recorded between 1977-'79 with producer Stu Cook (bass player for Creedence Clearwater Revival) -- a UK release from 1980, titled Five Symbols, and the more widely available 1981 US LP The Evil One, which swapped out five tracks from the British release. Though Roky was never really a part of the punk or hard rock scenes, he has been deeply influential on both, and though his lyrics can be seen as deranged fantasy or B movie pulp, you can't listen to these recordings without getting caught up in the real fear, paranoia and emotion -- plus the hooks are huge, and Roky of this era was one of the best gravel-voiced singers of all time. Anyone who loves rock and roll needs this album, and frankly, even if you already have it, LITA's version is better. I've got the original 415 poster insert signed and framed on my wall, and I'm gonna buy two.[JM]

Many would argue that the most essential period for, bar none, the most essential rock band in New Zealand history -- The Dead C. -- ended with the demise of the Xpressway/Siltbreeze era of releases from the '90s, starting with the quintessential Harsh '70s Reality and completing with Repent, packaged in repurposed digipak CD folders left from overruns of their Matador P&D era release, The White House. Many still argue that, since 2000's Language Recordings, the journey has simply reversed itself, guitarists Michael Morley and Bruce Russell and drummer Robbie Yeats having seen just how far rock music could be extrapolated and deconstructed, and performing a long journey back inward, pulling in all matter around it like a collapsing star. The two sidelong excursions that make up their latest album, Armed Courage, go quite a way to reinforcing that analysis. "Armed" finds Morley and Russell meditating on and around a single chord, buzzing and scraping around the drone with frenetic intensity, while Yeats rains down on his kit with quasi-rhythmic/athletic patter, like he left his kit out in a thundershower and mic'd it up. "Courage" rises up from a deeper swamp, Morley's crooning voice battling radio static and electronic pulse/surge, as Yeats bats his drums all around it, eventually finding a galloping rhythm to set up Morley's brooding guitar and Russell's busted electronic counterpoint, as the track shifts from action into pause. Both tracks are the most animated the Dead C. have been in quite some time, and begin to point back to their heyday with lessons picked up during the journey. To those who thought they'd been phoning it in, here are two big arguments against. [DM]

Although longtime DFA affiliates Alex Frenkel and Nick Millhiser b/k/a Holy Ghost! have lived in the disco/electro-pop world since their inception, the duo finally perfect the club soundtrack they have been striving for on their second album, Dynamics. With help from LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy and Nancy Whang, along with Neon Indian's Alan Palomo, Holy Ghost! have made a great record that will blow away their longtime fans, and win them many new ones. No song leans too heavily on bubblegum pop or dull synth-based electronica, and each is crafted with meticulous care. While the band's first album was both fun and captivating, Dynamics delivers a unity that was absent on its predecessor; the songs are not singles, but essential pieces in a puzzle. Nonetheless, there are a few tracks that do rise to the top, namely "Dumb Disco Ideas," eight minutes of first-rate electronic funk that emulates LCD's best hits with its steady beat and varying melodic endeavors. With the help of many big-name collaborators, the duo has managed to burst through the field of modern "indietronica" where redundancy is ubiquitous and distinction is rare. Strong applause for Holy Ghost!'s second album and these genuinely funky jams, it's an hour-long dance party without a single lull. [MM]

Score!! The fine folks at Sacred Bones, who've been working with David Lynch as of recent to release and distribute his musical offerings, have managed to procure copies of this out-of-production disc collecting music from Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti. Twin Peaks: Season Two Music and More compiles most of the music from the influential TV show's controversial second season, as well as a number of previously unheard pieces, alternate versions of familiar themes, and a few cuts left off of the soundtrack for Lynch's Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me film. It's a wonderful, curious album (originally self-released on Lynch's Absurda label) that combines the shadowed, unsettling ambience of the first season's music, and infuses it with a more perversely fragmented duality that's perhaps even more fitting than the mood established by its predecessor.

There are pieces which touch upon the cloudy, minor-key narcotic jazz of the first soundtrack, but here those songs are brighter and more innocent on the surface; the disc also features a number of mysterious and macabre blues workouts that foreshadow the roads Lynch would further travel down via his solo albums, as well as a number of beautiful etudes and lullabies for smaller instrumental combos. There are occasional pop flourishes throughout as well, particularly in the cracked doo-wop of "Barbershop" and the lovely fragility of "Just You," a soft slow dance that features the vocals of Sheryl Lee, Lara Flynn Boyle, and James Marshall, all actors on the show. Providing stark contrast to those lighter moments are some massively dark ambient pieces including two fresh takes on the "Love Theme," and the epic "Dark Mood Woods/The Red Room," which conjure crimson storm clouds of billowing synth and slowly shifting tones.

With over an hour's worth of music, this disc perhaps provides the most well-rounded overview of Lynch and Badalamenti's highly iconic and influential collaboration; that it balances light and dark, good and evil, pop and unpop so deftly and successfully shows once again that Lynch is to be taken just as seriously and with as much respect for his music as he is for his visual sensibilities. [IQ]

Devotees of experimental and electronic music are in for something special, as Ideologic Organ releases Hungarian composer Ákos Rózmann's Images of the Dream and Death (1974-77) on triple vinyl. Those of us who own the piece in its 1991 double CD-iteration by Phono Suecia might still consider that as the ultimate version, as it doesn't divide the movements within the composition between different album sides, but here is another version of this singular electro-acoustic work, apparently the final one before Rózmann passed away in 2005. Recorded in 2001 at EMS / Elektronmusikstudion in Stockholm, Sweden, the recording studio where all previous versions came to fruition, Images of the Dream and Death is a truly captivating listen. What's so unique about Rózmann's vision is his ability to breathe life into a genre often associated with conceptual experimentation and academic research. In fact, there is a sweeping theatricality to his style of electro-acoustic exploration, which makes his unabashedly serious compositions pulsate with a seldom-heard verve and spirituality.

Inspired by thoughts of death, Images of the Dream and Death depicts an interaction of spiritual forces over the course of three abundant movements. The piece is not so much inspired by literary sources, as is the case with many classical compositions about this subject, but by the composer's personal dream experience of balancing on the edge of life and death. This experiential approach, an expression of existential anxiety when nearing the End, gets interspersed with ideas of change, and of cosmic and universal redemption. This might sound weighty, and it definitely is, but Ákos Rózmann's exceptionally epic approach, in which cries, wailing, and shrieks get linked together by noise, sonic movements, and beats, make for an utterly unique, transcendental listening experience, unlike anything you will ever hear again. When the piece abruptly ends, one is left baffled and disoriented, wondering about the decisive otherness of it all. [NVT]

Making the jump from an indie to a (quasi-) major label eight albums into their career is a pretty bold and unlikely move for any band, but if there is a DIY lifer who can pull it off it's Will Sheff. Okkervil River's ATO debut pretty much delivers on expectations, keeping Sheff's mercurial heart and literary lyricism intact while lightening and brightening both the songwriting and production just enough to make a solid play for a wider audience. The stories on The Silver Gymnasium are all based in Sheff's childhood hometown of Meriden, New Hampshire, and the themes explore small-town childhood, fading memories and changing times with a warm and generous air of nostalgia that won't be totally unfamiliar to Okkervil fans, yet Sheff delivers these songs with a hopefulness and open-hearted joy that has not always been central to the band's music. Produced by John Agnello, there is a newfound crispness to the sound, with plenty of shimmering synth work and classic rock flourishes, sax solos and muscular grooves that recall other Agnello productions, from the old days with Mellencamp, Springsteen or Cyndi Lauper, or more recently the Hold Steady. Yet in the end it's an Okkervil River album, maybe a bit slicker, a shade sunnier, but still deeply personal, smart, witty and real, and while Sheff may have been thinking about winning some new fans here, he should have no trouble keeping his base happy. [JM]

Just in case you were worried that the Terminals/Scorched Earth Policy/Renderers family of New Zealand wunderkind dark rock/punk/goth bands of the '80s weren't enough to satisfy you, Siltbreeze notches a rung up the tree to bring you this expanded reissue of the Victor Dimisich Band's prime material (a 1983 EP for Flying Nun, and part of a posthumous cassette released on Xpressway five years later). The VDB's legacy extends all the way back to Vacuum, arguably the first New Zealand band to play in punk/glam/murk-informed pop style that would inform the entire legacy of that country's better musical endeavors, via drummer Peter Stapleton, bassist Stephen Cogle, and guitarist Allen Meek (later of the Bats, and also of virtually-unheard NZ outfit the World, whose shelved '83 EP for Flying Nun was just reissued by the Unwucht label). They're joined here by organist Mary Heney (also of Scorched Earth Policy), and second guitarist Tony O'Grady, who is said to have found Jesus and decamped from this style of music altogether not long after the release of the EP. The sound of the VDB hews to the darkness, and I can't think of any better description than the one I'm paraphrasing from the label -- an even split between the 13th Floor Elevators and "Dark Shadows" style Gothic lurk. Dramatic vocals, clean musicianship and arrangements, and swells of intensity punctuate these cold and wonderful songs, a beautiful record for the changing of leaves and crashing of the waves against the rocks. As great as the Scorched Earth Policy comp may be, this one may have wider appeal, simply because the songs have more direction and don't run off the tracks as often. If you're in the midst of exploring the wealth of New Zealand archival reissues, don't miss this one. [DM]

If you were able to grab those Tales from the Australian Underground compilations Other Music had on offer a few years back, or if you've actually been following punk and its offshoots from down under for all this time, you're probably used to being hit dead between the eyes by a song. That seems to be what the Australians did (and still do) best -- by-and-large removal of all of the pretense out of punk/rock/pop, and leaving the twitching, still-beating anima flailing in its viscera for however long it's got left, violent and raw, forced into service over and over again.

One of the most jarring examples on those comps was "Walking About" by Venom P. Stinger, regarded by those familiar as one of the most powerful and paranoid tracks from the post-punk era, galloping in on Jim White's restless pressure-roll drumming and Mick Turner's all-over-the-place guitar scrape. Singer Dugald McKenzie, of the Sick Things, rants and raves about being trapped in a room, faceless interlopers ready to beat him to a pulp if he dares to leave. It's the centerpiece of a very thick, tough, essential compilation of the group's work with McKenzie, compiled on two CDs and repros of the original vinyl releases by Drag City. 1986-1991 barely lets up, even with the group's more rock-informed tracks towards the end of their run with McKenzie on vocals -- these musicians simply won't allow it. With scant, mood-building exceptions, every song they wrote was played like it could be their last, a desperate, skittish, anxious attempt to define a terrible situation (like being eaten by a shark while on angel dust ... really) through hectic, masterful musicianship that built on punk's language and made it more complex and even less permanent-sounding all at once. Turner and White would build on these dynamics on a grander scale a few years later as two-thirds of the Dirty Three, who share little sonic ground with VPS, apart from the moments where the tension sounds as if the songs are simply going to break apart. Reissues like this show us how far away lots of bands have come from finding a voice, no matter how terrified, in their own attempts to define themselves. Consider this Stagecraft 101. [DM]

Having kept largely out of the public eye in recent years, this riot grrrl purveyor recently resurrected her long dormant solo project, adding a "The" to her Julie Ruin moniker, and has released a follow-up to 1998's eponymous debut. Eschewing the lo-fi bedroom production of the first album, and assembling a five-piece band featuring past collaborators and good friends that include bassist Kathi Wilcox (Bikini Kill) and keyboardist and co-songwriter Kenny Mellman (a/k/a Herb of Kiki & Herb), Run Fast is everything that longtime fans of both Bikini Kill and Le Tigre would want it to be: catchy, brazen, and fun, filled with lots of distorted blasts of power chords, buzzing synths, dance beats and plenty of raucous sing-a-long anthems that pull from punk, new wave, garage, surf rock, '60s girl-groups and more. And Hanna sounds great, her signature wail leading the charge, touching on personal topics such as her prolonged battle with Lyme disease and growing older, as well as wry take on New York hipster girls ("Kids in NY"), with Mellman also handling some of the vocals and often playing her foil.

This dark songstress returns with her third and most fully realized album to date. Far from the doomy lo-fi dirges heard on 2010's Apokalypsis and more fleshed out than last year's acoustic Unknown Rooms, Pain Is Beauty finds Chelsea Wolfe working with several of her past players, yet here utilizing more electronics and synths in the instrumentation, along with a more polished yet dreamy production. Of course, Wolfe still holds the center stage with her beautifully haunting, expressive vocals, recalling everyone from Zola Jesus to Siouxsie to PJ Harvey, while spinning her own tragic tales of love, death and heartache.

"Born to Die"
"Thorn in Her Pride"

Though it's been a while since we last heard from King Khan & the Shrines -- Khan has still kept himself busy performing these past few years with Mark Sultan in the duo King Khan & BBQ Show -- it's great to hear the Shrines back together, delivering another fun, soulful set of horn-filled, psych-garage anthems. Here, Khan and the band move from stomping, funky rave-ups like "Luckiest Man" to political-tinged, Nuggets-styled jams such as "Yes I Can't" to gorgeous '60s R&B-influenced ballads like "Darkness" to "So Wild," a spirited yet touching send-off to good friend Jay Reatard.

Coming off the series of tumultous events that shaped 2011's Our Blood (including a stolen laptop with the album's master mixes and being investigated as a murder suspect), Surrounded finds Richard Buckner working in a more exploratory mode. With the loosely connected nine songs pulled from a single longer story (the complete prose included in the lyric sheet), Buckner recorded the album by himself in his home studio, utilizing unfamiliar instruments like an Suzuki QChord auto-harp and an octave pedal as the foundation for many of these tracks, draping his finger-picked guitar and lulling, honey-soaked vocal melodies in foggy ambient textures and subtle electronics. These elements never overshadow his songwriting, however, and it's a stunning record from start to finish and amongst Buckner's very best.

Issue #34 of Shindig! magazine features one of the greatest songwriters of the 20th century, Harry Nilsson, as its cover story. Also inside: Gene Clark, Morgen, Stackridge, the Steppes, Thee Mighty Caesars, Captain Beefheart, Swamp Dogg, the Combustibles, Fifty Foot Hose, Dead Meadow, and lots more.

THIS WEEK'S CONTRIBUTORS

[KB] Kari Boston
[IQ] Mikey IQ Jones
[MK] Michael Klausman
[JM] Josh Madell
[MM] Matthew Malone
[DM] Doug Mosurock
[MS] Michael Stasiak
[NVT] Niels Van Tomme



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