This piece recently appeared on Rhapsody’s The Mix.

Recently, I scoured the song catalogs for the video games Rock Band and Guitar Hero. Both contain gobs of questionable selections, including indie fluff by The Strokes and even teen pop from Aly & AJ. What I didn’t find is a single Funkadelic tune. Maybe I’m overreacting, but I feel like this means mainstream rock fans no longer consider them to be top-tier rock gods. Tell me I’m wrong. Please!

For me, as well as so many rock fans who grew up in the 1970s, ’80s and early ’90s, Funkadelic were considered one of music’s most badass groups, and Eddie Hazel one of the all-time great guitarists. When I first got into classic psychedelia and hard rock, sitting down and cranking Maggot Brain, particularly the mind-melting 10-minute title track, was a rite of passage every bit as fundamental as blasting Paranoid, Led Zeppelin II and Machine Head. It didn’t matter one bit if their music was considered funk by some, or that they weren’t the same color as most other bands. They rocked.

I’m sure Flea, Mike Patton, Joe Walsh, Vernon Reid, Wayne Coyne, Robert Plant, H.R., Mike Watt, Greg Ginn, Ozzy, Tom Morello, Joe Carducci, Eddie Vedder and so many others would all agree with me: Funkadelic’s imprint is d-e-e-p. By the mid-’70s, their unique and often freaky fusion of brute strength, acid-rock distortion and spine-snapping syncopation had influenced many of the major heavy metal, boogie and Southern rock bands in America and the U.K. This carried into the next decade, with punk, post-punk, No Wave, noise rock, funk metal and especially grunge all carrying numerous Funkadelic chromosomes in their double helices. Mind you, this goes for both sound and image (for the latter, see The Flaming Lips and The Red Hot Chili Peppers.) I love Neil Young to death, but the title “Godfather of Grunge” is wildly overinflated. All those Seattle dudes were also rolling jazz cigarettes to the twisted sounds of Maggot Brain; you can hear it in their sense of groove.

What makes Funkadelic’s omission from the video-game genre particularly egregious is the fact that their impact, however indirect these days, is still super potent. But I guess all these nü metal, groove metal and metalcore bands no longer have any idea where their rhythms ultimately come from. But enough indignancy.

Can you get to that? I wanna know …

Sly & the Family Stone
Stand!
There aren’t enough adjectives in the English language to praise this 1969 release. The energy is near-terrifying, the funk is complex, and the songwriting left us with some of the most memorable and important pop/funk songs of the 20th century. “Stand!”, “I Want to Take You Higher” and “Everyday People” all came off this album. [Brolin Winning]

James Brown
Sex Machine
When talking about the great live albums in James Brown’s discography, 1970′s Sex Machine ranks right up there with the mighty Live at the Apollo and Love Power Peace. Of course, a decent portion of this set is merely live simulation (overdubbed audience and reverb). Nevertheless, if you want to hear the classic J.B. lineup at the very peak of its powers, then this is essential listening. Brown, feeling challenged by the emergence of Sly & the Family Stone and even Funkadelic, pushes his band into some heady spaces: extended rhythmic sequences that feel like byproducts of a genuine hive mind. [Justin Farrar]

The Temptations
Cloud Nine
Everybody knew how great the Temptations’ singles were in the 1960s. But with Cloud Nine, they made their first great album. The vocals are a highlight, but it’s Norman Whitfield’s production and the syncopated funk that stand out. The chaotic title track and the nine-minute funk epic “Runaway Child Running Wild” are the high points on this brilliant album. [Jon Pruett]

Vanilla Fudge
Vanilla Fudge
Vanilla Fudge suffered myriad weaknesses: poor choice in covers, lousy songwriting, way too much schmaltzy blue-eyed soul and an unhealthy obsession with hippie-baked sonic poetry. Despite all this, the band’s 1967 debut was a radical statement about the possibilities of heaviness in rock ‘n’ roll. Whereas The Jimi Hendrix Experience swung hard but with agility, the Fudge rumbled like a couple of continental plates slowly ramming into one another. It’s a plodding aesthetic that would influence a whole generation of hard-rock icons, including Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and Blue Cheer. [J.F.]

The Jimi Hendrix Experience
Electric Ladyland
The 20th century produced few double albums as iconic as Electric Ladyland. It kind of makes sense this was Hendrix’s last album with Noel and Mitch. Where else could the trio take their sound? Transforming the studio into a psychedelic laboratory, they cracked the rock genome and infused it with chromosomes pulled from soul, blues and even folk music. What has been lost to time is just how unique Electric Ladyland sounded in 1968. Other bands had ventured pretty far out: The Yardbirds, 13th Floor Elevators, The Byrds. But none of them rocketed into deep inner space quite like these guys. [J.F.]

Sun Ra
The Heliocentric Worlds of Sun Ra, Volumes One & Two
The Heliocentric Worlds recordings — which over the years have been repackaged to the point of confusion, even for hardcore Ra devotees — are as good a place as any to get a feel for the Arkestra’s drastic evolution during their mid-’60s residency in New York. With the city’s burgeoning free jazz scene exerting its influence, Sun Ra’s music went from quirky and strange to heavy and sublime. Compositions — all twisted, shattered and stretched — now broke the seven-minute mark. Though the playing was still predominantly acoustic, it grew more percussive and abstract, even harsh at times. [J.F.]

MC5
Kick Out the Jams
Words can’t really explain this epic recording: you must listen to understand why MC5 were Detroit’s chosen child. These songs were recorded live at the Grande Ballroom in 1969 and demonstrate how powerful the band was in concert. Their solid, soulful chemistry will drift from your speakers like heavy smoke. [Eric Shea]

Earth, Wind & Fire
Earth, Wind & Fire
E.W.F.’s 1971 debut marks a culture clash between the group’s Chicago jazz and soul origins, and the sunshine pop of its new home in Los Angeles. Bandleader Maurice White aimed to merge the shambling energy music of Albert Ayler, the Latin rock of Santana, and the psychedelic soul and vocal pop of Minnie Riperton’s Rotary Connection and Fifth Dimension. Though “Love Is Life” and “Fan the Fire” have an appealingly ragged quality, neither White’s songs, nor his band, nor lead vocalist and veteran Chicago shouter Wade Flemons met his goals. After a second album, The Need of Love, White fired nearly all of E.W.F.’s original members and started over. [Mosi Reeves]

Funkadelic
Live: Meadowbrook, Rochester, Michigan 12th September 1971
Funkadelic’s earliest albums are profoundly strange and psychedelic, but amazingly enough, their sound was even more out there in the live setting. On this impeccably recorded performance from 1971, individual songs melt into a gooey stew of fuzzy acid dirges and porno-cosmic incantations. Perversely visionary stuff for sure. George Clinton is a freaky scatological genius: “We might pee on you, but we won’t do you no harm,” he at one point implores. Guitarist Eddie Hazel, meanwhile, is a heavy metal feedback warlord. Would grunge and noise rock even have been born were it not for him? [J.F.]

The Chambers Brothers
The Time Has Come
The Time Has Come might be an uneven listen, but it’s an absolutely necessary (and possibly even initial) bridge between ’60s soul and the psych-funk revolution that exploded the following decade. Because of this, the album is divided between earthbound fare (“People Get Ready,” “In the Midnight Hour”) and serious acid vibes, the most significant of which is the 11-minute “Time Has Come Today.” The importance of this track cannot be overstated; the band released it in 1967, two years before Sly & the Family Stone’s Stand! and three before Funkadelic’s debut. Now that’s prescience, people. [J.F.]

Further listening:
Parliament: Osmium
The Meters: The Meters
The Impressions: This Is My Country
Led Zeppelin: Led Zeppelin
Booker T. & the MGs: Soul Limbo
The Stooges: The Stooges
Screamin’ Jay Hakwins: Legends
The Jeff Beck Group: Truth
Black Merda: Black Merda
Blue Cheer: Vincebus Eruptum
The Mothers of Invention: Freak Out!
Eric Burdon & the Animals: The Best of Eric Burdon and the Animals

This piece originally appeared on Rhapsody’s The Mix.

The recent release of the collection Johnny Boy Would Love This … A Tribute to John Martyn has me once again obsessing over him. This isn’t at all unusual. I’ll use just about any excuse to toss everything aside and focus my attention solely on his music. In my opinion, the late John Martyn is the most interesting, accomplished, unique and challenging singer-songwriter to emerge from the British folk-rock boom of the late 1960s. Nick Drake and Sandy Denny may be more mythological, but neither one explored sound-as-emotion with as much sweaty recklessness as their old pal.

The evolution Martyn underwent between 1970 and the early 1980s was profoundly radical. In that time he challenged the popular conception of the singer-songwriter more intensely than even Van Morrison and Joni Mitchell. His early albums, often recorded with then-wife Beverley, are fairly straightforward acoustic affairs. By 1974, however, he had begun to experiment with tape-delay effects, as well as ideas imported from fusion, soul, funk and dub. The albums Solid Air, Inside Out, Sunday’s Child, One World and (my personal fave) Grace & Danger — all released consecutively — are wildly progressive. Imagine Astral Weeks meets On the Corner meets Inspiration Information, and you’re more or less there. Each one contains stretches that feel as if they could’ve been recorded only yesterday. Little did Martyn know, he was helping lay the groundwork for the future: electronica, post-rock, trip-hop and most recently, hypnagogic pop and chillwave.

What made Martyn such a powerful artist was his ability to sidestep the “man-machine” myth (see Kraftwerk) that informed pop music throughout the ’70s. He loved working with new gear, yet he never relinquished his belief that music was all about what he called the “direct communication of emotion.” In other words, he was a die-hard humanist who used technology to investigate the deepest depths of his inner realm, not replace them with circuit boards.

You should definitely check out Johnny Boy Would Love This …, but if you also want to hear the man himself, then spend some time with my Grace & Danger: The Art of John Martyn playlist as well.

This piece originally appeared on Rhapsody’s The Mix.

Ever since fusion devolved into flaccid pop-jazz in the 1980s, the genre has been treated with suspicion by more than a few jazz snobs. In fact, fusion didn’t get a fair shake right out of the gate. When Miles Davis went electric and started performing before rock audiences, critics couldn’t stop condemning the man. “SELLOUT!” they proclaimed ad nauseam, even though the music he made was wildly challenging and ambitious.

Between 1969 and 1976, fusion’s first and second waves produced some of the most powerful and forward-looking music of the post-hippie rock landscape. This is the era I’ll spotlight here. Now, it’s important to point out that fusion took on many forms throughout the 1970s. In addition to rock, jazz mingled with funk, Latin music and even avant-garde classical. We’ll touch on all these incarnations. That said, the decade also produced something called “jazz-rock,” a phrase critics and fans often used when talking about Blood, Sweat & Tears; Chicago; The Electric Flag; and similar ilk. These artists don’t figure here; however, definitely check out my Cheat Sheet on Classic East Coast Horn Rock, if you dig classic rock with brass and horns. And while I’m touching on related topics, do explore my Krautrock Cheat Sheet: much like progressive rock, the German movement had quite a lot in common stylistically with fusion.

Miles Davis
Bitches Brew
This is the album that found Miles losing some of his older jazz audience while gaining a new rock-fan following. Though he was considered by some at the time to be a sellout, this is daring music that still challenges and inspires. Wayne Shorter remains on soprano sax; new musicians John McLaughlin, Chick Corea and Larry Young all shine in the spotlight. This 40th-anniversary edition includes an array of bonus material, much of which reveals the diligent editing of producer Teo Macero, plus a different lineup featuring keyboardist Keith Jarrett. [Nick Dedina]

Tony Williams Lifetime
Emergency!
When it comes to the development of fusion, Emergency!, released in 1969, ranks right up there with Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew in terms of sheer brilliant innovation. The ensemble, featuring fellow pioneers Larry Young (organ) and John McLaughlin (guitar), swings hard while harnessing a dirty, grungy sound full of squall, feedback and distortion. Moments emerge when the playing is so intense and so furious that whiplash feels like the only possible result. Fusion eventually evolved into cool pop jazz, but at its birth, as Emergency! clearly demonstrates, it was pure hellish fire. [Justin Farrar]

John McLaughlin
Devotion
Between his work with Miles Davis and forming The Mahavishnu Orchestra, John McLaughlin released this muscular foray into the fusion of Jimi Hendrix-inspired acid rock and post-bop. Though the guitarist’s background is in jazz tradition, he unloads serious riffage; Larry Young’s organ grind is equally heavy. “Dragon Song & Devotion” possesses all the power and bombast of Vanilla Fudge and early Black Sabbath. Overall, Devotion is a fantastic record: raw, unbridled and wildly prescient. There are stretches, in fact, that even look to the post-hardcore experiments of In My Head-era Black Flag. [J.F.]

Santana
Lotus
Chicano rock enthusiasts and ardent fans of Santana’s Welcome-era jazz odysseys will admit that something magical happens every time you let Lotus play in its entirety. The set was recorded live in Japan in 1973; the band’s chemistry (whether spiritually or literally chemical) is an otherworldly storm captured on tape. [Eric Shea]

The Mahavishnu Orchestra
The Inner Mounting Flame
John McLaughlin and Co.’s volcanic effect on fusion (and rock) began with their first record, conceived and released right after they got out of the studio with Miles Davis recording Bitches Brew. There’s nobody that plays guitar like McLaughlin, except for maybe Mike Tyson (if he ever tried). The rest of the band attempts to keep up. Try “The Noonward Race.” [Mike McGuirk]

Soft Machine
Third
Released in 1970, Third marks a major turning point in the Soft Machine sound. Gone for the most part are the collage-like art pop compositions, playful surrealism and intricate vocal passages marking their first two full-lengths. The band is now messing around with fusion, atonality, electronic music, musique concrete, minimal drone and repetition. On top of all this, the grooves are heavier and way more severe. By the seven-minute mark of the first piece, “Facelift,” you know you’re in for one hell of a ride; Mike Ratledge’s searing organ and Elton Dean’s sax-skronk are just going at it. [J.F.]

Weather Report
Live in Tokyo
Weather Report are one of the groups blamed for turning fusion into vapid pop jazz. This is true. However, their early output, particularly this stunning live set recorded in January 1972, is anything but pop. The group really, truly smokes, and for extended stretches. Not a single piece falls short of 10 minutes. The longest, the 26-minute “Medley: Vertical Invader / Seventh Arrow / T.H. / Doctor Honoris Causa,” is a juggernaut in harsh textures, fractured grooves and fearless exploration. Folks who are familiar only with the band’s later albums will surely be blown away by this one. [J.F.]

Henry Cow
Leg End
If there is one album that connects the dots between fusion, progressive rock and avant-garde classical more completely than any other, Henry Cow’s debut, 1973′s Leg End, just might be it. This is one dazzling, daring and demanding record. Performing a tenuous balancing act between free improv and compositional complexity, the group unleashes some truly amazing acrobatics when it comes to rhythm and melody. In a lot of ways Henry Cow are the sonic equivalent of a pointillism painter. Each and every instrument is all about sharp pinpricks of sound rather than sinewy sustain and release. [J.F.]

Return to Forever
The Anthology
Much like Weather Report, Chick Corea’s Return to Forever started the 1970s exploring some fairly heady sounds, yet turned more and more toward accessible pop as the decade progressed. Though this 20-track collection covers the ’73 to ’76 period only, it contains some of the most adventurous music in the ensemble’s discography. Many of the early tracks — “After the Cosmic Rain” and the hyper-kinetic “Captain Señor Mouse” among them — feel significantly more influenced by progressive and Latin rock (that is Yes and Santana) than by Corea’s former bandleader, fusion innovator No. 1, Miles Davis. [J.F.]

Jean-Luc Ponty
Upon the Wings of Music
By this point in Jean-Luc Ponty’s career he had already worked with Frank Zappa, The Mahavishnu Orchestra and Stephane Grappelli. The French musician knew the sound he wanted and how to attain it. Significantly more melodic than the anarchic funk-fusion Miles Davis was then dealing in, 1975′s Upon the Wings of Music possesses real kick. Electric pianist Patrice Rushen lays down punchy lines that perfectly underpin Ponty’s lyrical, ever-mutating violin. One of the best tracks is “Echoes of the Future,” which sounds influenced by Tangerine Dream and other Kosmische musik practitioners. [J.F.]

Jeff Beck
Blow by Blow
Where Miles, Mahavishnu Orchestra and Weather Report approached fusion from the perspective of the jazzbo, Jeff Beck approached it from the perspective of the hard-rock guitarist. Released in 1975, Blow by Blow was a radical departure for the former Yardbird. It’s a record whose influence cannot be overestimated. Though its artistic merits have always been debated, Blow by Blow singlehandedly exposed an entire generation of rockers to progressive-flavored jazz grooves, chords, melodies, etc. [J.F.]

Herbie Hancock
Mwandishi
Mwandishi is awesome, the perfect soundtrack for a night of meteor showers filling the sky with ephemeral patterns, ghostly streaks and shimmering stains. Stylistically, the record picked up where Miles Davis’ In a Silent Way left off. The electric ensemble Herbie Hancock assembled for these pivotal recordings incorporates elements of rock and funk while exploring a kind of proto-ambient sonic hypnotism. Though this is Hancock’s initial journey into the cosmic sublime as a band leader, his ability to fuse acoustic instrumentation with synthesizer-based sounds is already highly evolved. [J.F.]

Joe McPhee
Nation Time
While Nation Time can be tagged fusion, its intense blend of jazz, funk and rock differs significantly from what Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock were cooking up in the early 1970s. This music isn’t spacey or hypnotic; it’s raw hard-bop whose flesh has been torn apart by sharp avant-garde sensibilities. The tag “free funk” is often applied to this record, and it makes a lot of sense. Squealing, screaming and howling, saxophonist Joe McPhee introduces elemental themes that he then pounds into the ground. Meanwhile, pianist Mike Kull and guitar player Dave Jones bash away with ecstatic abandon. [J.F.]

Jaco Pastorius
Jaco Pastorius
Jaco Pastorius tore across the fusion scene the way a tornado tears across a cornfield in Iowa. There existed electric bass in jazz long before the release of his debut album, but Pastorius utterly revolutionized the instrument’s role. No matter what track you’re listening to, be it the funkified “Come On, Come Over” or the sentimental “Forgotten Love,” his fretless-based melodies and dizzying runs are front and center. In other words, Pastorius isn’t standing toward the rear of the ensemble merely providing an anchor; rather, he’s directing traffic and making things happen at all times. [J.F.]

Embryo
Father Son and Holy Ghosts
Germany’s Embryo have garnered more than a few comparisons to Can through the years. The comparisons aren’t inaccurate, yet they do tend to overlook Embryo’s love of jazz-informed rhythms. Released in 1972, Father Son & Holy Ghosts swings with a nervous, up-on-the-beat energy, something Can rarely, if ever, explored. Setting up the rest of the album in fine fashion, the opener “The Special Trip” is edgy and tight. On “Marimbaroos” and “The Sun Song” (the latter of which contains some great horn work by Edgar Hoffman), Embryo embed their wonderful rhythms in a proto-world fusion sensibility. [J.F.]

Further listening:

Sonny Sharrock: Black Woman
Ginger Baker: Ginger Baker’s African Force
Miles Davis: Agharta
Brand X: Unorthodox Behaviour
Ornette Coleman: Body Meta
Gong: Flying Teapot
Miles Davis: On the Corner
James Blood Ulmer: Tales of Captain Black
Larry Young: Lawrence of Newark
Frank Zappa: Hot Rats
Herbie Mann: Memphis Underground
Miles Davis: In a Silent Way
Jerry Garcia/Howard Wales: Hooteroll?
Larry Coryell: Introducing the Eleventh House with Larry Coryell

This piece orginally appeared on Rhapsody’s The Mix.

In the early 1980s, some of the best New Wave bands were actually progressive rock groups. This is a bit of an exaggeration, of course. But not totally untrue, when you think about the super-creative ways in which Yes, Rush, Phil Collins and Queen fused the two genres. Ignoring the fact that punk had declared war on the classic rock fossils of the previous decade, these musicians boldly explored synthesizers, funk-inspired dance grooves, drum machines, sound collage, wiry arrangements and icy production techniques. Some truly great music was produced in the process. The Trevor Horn-produced 90125, the wildly experimental The Game and the titanic Moving Pictures are all bona fide classics. Then there’s Collins’ Miami Vice masterpiece “In the Air Tonight,” one of the most striking (and moodiest) pop songs of the 20th century.

Many progressive rockers embraced this brave new world so deftly because it didn’t feel all that foreign to them. Though deeply inspired by punk’s high energy, New Wave owes much of its sonic palette, particularly the earliest synthesizers, to mid-1970s prog and art rock (Krautrock, too). Spend time with Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Robert Wyatt’s Rock Bottom, Peter Hammill’s PH7, Brian Eno’s myriad productions, or the entire King Crimson discography, and you’ll quickly detect the basic traits of New Wave (and, by extension, post-punk and synth-pop).

These connections can also be felt from the flip side of the coin. Talking Heads’ Fear of Music (coproduced by Eno), most of The Police discography (drummer Stewart Copeland previously served time in Curved Air) and This Heat’s uncompromisingly intense Deceit all contain some seriously proggy touches, particularly when it comes to the quirky rhythms these groups liked experimenting with.

And let’s not forget: on August 1, 1981, at 12:01a.m. precisely, that bastion of New Wave indoctrination, MTV, came alive when it broadcasted “Video Killed the Radio Star” by The Buggles. Little did most viewers know the duo were hardcore progheads who had joined Yes as full-time members a year prior.

Yes
90125
Nobody — and we mean nobody — in the early ’80s expected a dinosaur like Yes to release a killer slab of modern MTV pop. Yet that’s exactly what the group accomplished. In terms of British art-rock mingling with New Wave, 90125 is very nearly the equal of Queen’s masterful The Game. Every single track, particularly the hook-laced “Owner of a Lonely Heart,” is an intricately constructed collage full of sharp edges, jagged collisions and oddly funky grooves. The X factor is producer Trevor Horn, who expertly applies his knowledge of disco and club music to the proceedings. [Justin Farrar]

Phil Collins
Face Value
Phil Collins opens his solo debut, 1981′s Face Value, with one of the great pop songs of the 20th century: “In the Air Tonight” (its original video is totally avant garde). The rest of the album, with its emphasis on funk and R&B, isn’t too shabby either. The Genesis drummer-turned-frontman-turned solo star must’ve taken copious notes when working with Brian Eno just a couple years prior; his use of drum machines, synthesizers and ambient textures (John Giblin’s watery bass in particular) is smart and subtle. Face Value’s other hit is “I Missed Again,” but “I’m Not Moving” is even better. [J.F.]

Rush
Moving Pictures
Rush became an arena-rock staple in the 1970s, but the Canadian power trio reached entirely new commercial heights in the early 1980s when they started tinkering with, ironically enough, ideas nicked from New Wave. Apparently, they were grooving hard to The Police before entering the studio and cranking out Moving Pictures, an album many fans consider their best. The young upstarts’ influence can be felt in Rush’s complex ensemble interplay, which has gone from bombastic and muscular to wiry and tight. The record’s centerpiece is “Tom Sawyer,” of course. But the entire set is straight-up aces. [J.F.]

Queen
The Game
Never mind that “Another One Bites the Dust” is one of the most ridiculously funky songs ever recorded — Queen’s 1980 effort proved that these leather-clad, mustached freaks could do whatever they wanted. Huge ballads, ’50s rave-ups, colossal hard rock, triumphant power-synths and disco funk-rock. Have you listened to “Dragon Attack” lately? It’s unbelievable. [Jon Pruett]

Peter Hammill
PH7
For the most part, Peter Hammill’s solo work isn’t as widely embraced as that of his band, the amazing Van Der Graaf Generator. Yet an album such as PH7, originally released in 1979, makes the case that Hammill on his own might be an even more potent artistic force. Without V.D.G.G. surrounding him, he ditches prog in favor of orchestral-laced confessionals, propulsive rockers and, most impressively, dystopian synth-ragers. The uncompromising “Porton Down” is just vicious, and doesn’t sound far removed from the industrial sounds Cabaret Voltaire and D.A.F. were producing around the same time. [J.F.]

Asia
Asia
“Heat of the Moment” was a major hit in the ’80s, despite the fact that Asia were a prog rock supergroup made up of members of Yes, King Crimson, and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. They even had a follow-up hit, the ridiculous and great “Only Time Will Tell.” These songs, and that band, could only have existed in those confused, insane times, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. [Mike Cloward]

Peter Gabriel
Peter Gabriel 2: Scratch
On his 1978 sophomore solo set, Peter Gabriel teams up with producer/guitarist Robert Fripp, balancing gentle but arty English folk pop with complex rhythms and a couple of outright rocking numbers. The punk-appreciating “D.I.Y.” is the clear standout and is sonically comparable to what the pre-Remain in Light Talking Heads were doing at the same time. On the other end of the spectrum, “Mother of Violence” is a gorgeous acoustic number that feels like it could be from The Beatles’ White Album. Though this was a very strong LP, Gabriel’s next album would be his masterwork. [Nick Dedina]

Brian Eno
Another Green World
As unique as Eno’s previous records were, this one raises the bar for the hybrid of pop and electronic music. Eno delves deep into the studio, melding rhythm, synthesized sound and melody into a surreal whole. The album is largely instrumental, but vocal tracks “St. Elmo’s Fire” and “I’ll Come Running” are pop songs unlike any other. [J.P.]

Japan
Tin Drum
Japan’s final LP, a foppish blend of dance-free funk, faux Oriental motifs and arty synth pop, was a big hit across Europe. Tracks such as “Ghosts” showcase David Sylvian’s surreal narratives to good effect, but the whole affair is such a 1980s timepiece that it now offers unexpected joys — kind of like leafing through an old magazine and seeing the ads in a new light. [N.D.]

The Buggles
The Age of Plastic
Don’t overlook this ’80s pop classic. Production deity Trevor Horn had more in him than just “Video Killed the Radio Star.” His considerable songwriting prowess is also evident on “Living in the Plastic Age,” “Elstree” (a tribute to the famed U.K. film studios) and “Clean, Clean.” Crisp and catchy, this LP is not so much a guilty pleasure as an essential point in electropop history. [Nicholas Baker]

Further listening:

This Heat: Deceit
Sparks: No. 1 in Heaven
Robert Wyatt: Rock Bottom
Kate Bush: Never For Ever
Robert Fripp: Exposure
King Crimson: Discipline
Van Der Graaf Generator: The Quiet Zone/The Pleasure Dome
Genesis: Duke
David Bowie: Heroes
Yellow Magic Orchestra: Technodelic
Ultravox: Vienna
Bryan Ferry: In Your Mind
Bill Nelson: Sound on Sound
Be-Bop Deluxe: Modern Music
Talking Heads: Fear of Music
Styx: Kilroy Was Here
M: New York-London-Paris-Munich
The Police: Zenyetta Mondatta
Slapp Happy: Acnalbasac Noom

This piece originally appeared on Rhapsody’s The Mix.

All of our life we’ve been kicked around, we’ve been put in jail, we’ve been shot at, we’ve had dynamite thrown at us. Then, you don’t want us to have nothing.
- Miner, Harlan County USA

Oh, the green rolling hills of West Virginia are the nearest thing to heaven that I know. Though the times are sad and drear. And I cannot linger here. They’ll keep me and never let me go.
- Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerrard, “The Green Rolling Hills of West Virginia”

Right now, as you’re reading these words, an entire region, culture and people are dying off because their lands contain rocks and gases that help fuel, “from sea to shining sea,” our country’s power grid. This is a grim fact. But it’s something the late Hazel Dickens –who died in her sleep on Friday, April 22 — would want us to reflect-on as we mourn her passing. West Virginian to the core and damn proud of it, Dickens, 75, was a courageous and outspoken musician, pro-union activist and feminist who fought for the rights of her fellow Appalachians, from the mountains’ coal miners to its disempowered women.

Dickens, the eighth of 11 children, was born into poverty in the 1930s. She grew-up in the town of Montcalm, about 15 miles north of the West Virginia/Virginia border. Her father cut timber for the mines and preached The Bible. Coal was all around her. In her teens she relocated to Baltimore, Maryland, where she fell in with the then booming folk scene, namely Mike Seeger, of The New Lost City Ramblers, and his wife, singer Alice Gerrard. Beginning in the 1960s, she released a string of albums, spotlighting her commanding mountain voice and unmistakable fusion of bluegrass, folk revivalism, old time and even touches of honky tonk. All her records are quite powerful, but I would suggest starting with the trifecta of Hard Hitting Songs for Hard Hit People, Hazel & Alice and Strange Creek Singers, a collaborative effort also featuring Mike Seeger.

Celluloid captured Dickens’ artistry when she appeared in the rousing documentary Harlan County USA, as well as the films Matewan and Songcatcher. All are vital viewings for those into rural American history.

Rest in peace, Ms. Dickens. Appalachia will miss you.

An abridged version of this show preview originally appeared in Cleveland’s Scene magazine.

Over the last several years Sandwell District, a collective of producers and DJs strewn across Europe and the States, have riddled techno with a succession of killer singles. Their aesthetic revolves around historical synthesis. In the case of Silent Servant (born John Mendez) this means unearthing the secret threads that link minimal techno and its post-punk ancestry from the 1980s. One of the more succinct examples of his sound is “Discipline,” a deliciously moody track off the 2009 twelve-inch Negative Fascinations. Under a hazy drizzle of static, one that explicitly cites Basic Channel, droning strings slither wearily through hypnotic pulsations that are, at the same time, chilly and warm. This striking fusion of opposites — which totally makes the track, mind you — has its roots in vintage synth-pop and industrial.

In the live setting, as a DJ, Silent Servant attempts to reveal these secret threads in real time. “It just depends on how open minded the crowd might be and if I have control of the night,” Mendez explains via e-mail. “If I have the time, I will throw in things like Fad Gadget or ‘Hot the Heels of Love’ by Throbbing Gristle.”

Time will certainly be on Mendez’s side when he hits Cleveland. According to show promoter John Cellura, over at local institution Bent Crayon, Silent Servant plans to unleash a “marathon set.” Be prepared.

Rhapsody Round-Up is a semi-regular compilation of record reviews I’ve recently penned for the online music service Rhapsody.com.

Helmet – Meantime
No matter how many nu-metal morons rip-off Meantime, the album’s innovative zest never diminishes. When released in 1992, its unremitting succession of proggy grooves and start/stop dynamics sounded unlike anything else in modern rock. That’s because Helmet were the first high-profile group to filter all the scuzzy noise-rock released on the Tough & Go and Amphetamine Reptile labels through the hardcore-metal crossover then dominating New York. On top of all this, guitarist Page Hamilton threw in a bunch of arty chops he learned while hanging around the Knitting Factory’s avant scene.

Type O Negative – Bloody Kisses
In the early 1990s, Type O Negative’s Bloody Kisses knocked down the walls separating goth, metal and even alternative rock. Augmenting the group’s core sound with cool washes of synthesizer and art-pop moves, main man Peter Steele crafted a sound that derives its power from mood and atmosphere rather than straight-up heavy-metal heft. Indeed, Bloody Kisses is an extremely rich listening experience. Each and every song is a soundscape in need of exploration. At the same time, don’t overlook Steele’s lyrics. The guy possesses an ironic sense of humor that is subtle, if outrageous.

Mitch Ryder – Sings the Hits
When released in 1968, Sings the Hits was a serious flop. After management convinced Mitch Ryder to ditch The Detroit Wheels a year prior, the blue-eyed soul-screamer’s hip-stock totally plummeted. In hindsight, the record isn’t bad by any means. Find a way to get past the too-obvious song list (yet another version of “Walking the Dog”?), as well as the Wonderbread horn charts, and you’ll discover a handful of Ryder’s more virile vocal performances. “Sticks and Stones” is a beast, so is “Let Your Lovelight Shine.” The latter is solid evidence that The Grateful Dead’s Pigpen was a huge fan.

Fear Factory – Demanufacture
Fear Factory blazed an impressive trail in the 1990s. The southern California group explored, over a trio of excellent albums, just about everything, including thrash, death metal, industrial metal and groove metal. Most of the time, as Demanufacture clearly demonstrates, the group looked towards the rise of nu metal. A track such as “Self Bias Resistor” sounds, especially during its more baroque moments, as if it influenced an entire generation of metal dudes, including the heavies Korn and Limp Bizkit. That said, Demanufacture is far heavier than much of the offspring it helped spawn.

Mason Proffit – Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream
Why Mason Proffit didn’t become one of country-rock’s most popular acts in the early 1970s is a mystery that shall never be solved. The Chicago quartet, all decked out like desperadoes, was certainly one of the genre’s all-time best. Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream, an epic meditation on peace, freedom and hippie-bred spirituality, is the group’s third long-player. The Talbot brothers’ harmonies are powerful — but rich and subtle, too. The rhythm section, meanwhile, never goes slack, even on the ballads, like the title track, a rousing rendition of Ed McCurdy’s folk anthem.

Life of Agony – River Runs Red
The exemplary River Runs Red, released in 1993, arrived about five years too early. Though Life of Agony emerged from New York’s hardcore-metal crossover scene, which was thriving in the late 1980s, the group was more or less laying the foundation for nu metal by blending metalcore, old-school grunge and a little goth. But what really made the band stand out were their slower grooves (“Through and Through”) and brooding, epic balladry (“This Time”). These qualities led to a lot of comparisons to Alice in Chains, yet there’s something more overtly metal about LoA.

Cream – Wheels of Fire
On Cream’s first two studio albums, Fresh Cream and Disraeli Gears, the trio was all about studio-bred brevity. It wasn’t until 1968′s Wheels of Fire, a double LP, that the group began to stretch out. Now mind you, it isn’t a perfect album. The more flowery offerings, such as “Passing the Time” and “As You Said,” haven’t aged all that well. It’s the live material found on the second disc that really stands out. “Toad” and “Spoonful,” both of which break the 15-minute mark, are powerful jams that prove why Cream exerted such a massive influence on the development of hard rock and heavy metal.

Vision of Disorder – Imprint
Why Vision of Disorder aren’t more revered in alternative metal circles is a total mystery. For its second record, 1998′s Imprint, the group teamed up with D. Sardy. The hot-shot producer helped the quintet achieve a perfectly balanced fusion of East Coast metalcore and Pantera-inspired groove metal. Not to gross you out, but this record is one giant loogie of venom, spite and bad vibes. No ballads, no progressive wankery, just face-ripping riffage and violent breakdowns that flirt with chaos without ever really descending into it. By record’s end you feel utterly violated — in a good way.

Manassas – Pieces
A nice piece of archival work on Rhino’s part, Pieces is an expansive collection of previously unreleased recordings and alternate takes from 1971 to ’73. Back then Stephen Stills ran with Manassas, a large and rather unruly super-group also featuring the great Chris Hillman, formerly of The Byrds and The Flying Burrito Brothers. Sonically speaking, Manassas covered a lot of ground: Latin-tinged rock ‘n’ roll, country, folk and even a dash of bluegrass. As always, Rhino’s re-mastering is aces. In fact, Pieces sounds better than 99% of the music passing for Americana in the 21st century.

Sepultura – Roots
Roots is a dense and sloppy mess that asks a lot of its listeners. A grand statement addressing Brazil’s culture and politics, in particular the plight of the country’s indigenous people, the record is packed with sonic experiments and novel touches, everything from “tribal” percussion and down-tuned riffs to industrial crunch and funk-metal breakdowns. Even when the music feels bloated and misguided — which is rather often, mind you — Sepultura never stop raging as hard and viciously as they possibly can. Plus, Ross “The Godfather of Nu Metal” Robinson’s production is absolutely decadent.

Little Feat – Waiting For Columbus
Waiting for Columbus came out in 1978, which was a weird time for Little Feat’s first live record to be released. The band hadn’t delivered a killer studio album in three years. Even worse is the fact that Lowell George and the rest of the band were in a nasty power struggle over artistic direction. The latter was pushing the band into proggy fusion and jamming, stuff George detested. Despite these issues, The Feats found a way to get their act together and produce a really good record. The only aspect that doesn’t work is the screeching synthesizer, which hasn’t aged well at all.

This Q&A originally appeared on The Village Voice’s “Sound Of The City” blog.

There’s no keeping-up with Colin Langenus these days. Ever since the USA Is a Monster, America’s premiere prog-noise outfit for most of the last decade, called it a day in 2009, the burly singer-songwriter and guitarist has been hurdling through the murky ether of his raw creativity at warp speed. Unlike drummer and longtime Monster cohort Tom Hohmann (who relocated to rural southeast Michigan to start a new-age-punk farm and commune), Langenus stayed put in New York, eventually hopping from Brooklyn to Queens. Musically speaking, though, he’s undergone a drastic transformation over the last year and a half. Kicking the noise rock to the curb, Langenus now oversees two groups: the CSC Funk Band, a large and unruly ensemble churning out eccentric Afrobeat for freakers and weirdoes, and the Colin L. Orchestra, another big band that produces a cloudy blend of classic rock, country folk, and Rhys Chatham-inspired minimalism. On top of all this, he’s been involved in a bevy of short-lived multi-media projects, from Bongladesh (which released a hellishly psychedelic long-form video not too far back) to a month-long residency at Zebulon Café last autumn. Oh, and by the way, the Monster recently released a posthumous album, R.I.P., on the Northern Spy label.

So yeah, dude is busy. Even interviewing Langenus is an art project in and of itself: The guy is nervy, garrulous, and exploding with energy. Though he successfully juggles about a million things, he isn’t keen on supplying specifics; he’s also a big fan of stream-of-consciousness conversation that’s about as direct as the hedge maze in The Shining. He and I chatted not long before the CSC Funk Band, whose debut full-length is due out on the Fat Beats imprint this year, went out on its winter tour of the West Coast.

You’ve been super busy since laying the USA is a Monster to rest: The Colin L. Orchestra, CSC Funk Band, Bongladesh, a month-long residency at Brooklyn’s Zebulon. Lets start with the Orchestra’s debut album, Infinite Ease. A promo copy has been floating around for some time now. Is there an official release date?
Infinite Ease is due out on the Northern Spy label in May — vinyl, no CD. It has been re-mastered professionally and sounds pretty amazing.

It’s a fantastic record: droning psychedelia and stoner Americana, which is an under-explored aesthetic these days. The great Muleskinner, with Clarence White on guitar, dabbled in it back in the day.
I like combining the country melodies I write with long, mellow grooves. Somebody recently compared the orchestra to Christopher Cross’ “Ride Like the Wind.” That’s exactly what I’m going for: psychedelic yacht-rock.

Most of the songs are real epics, however, like 10 minutes and more. Cross never did anything like that!
True. Right now the Orchestra plays three songs live, and two of them are on Infinite Ease. It’s a 40-minute set: two 10-minute songs and one 20-minute song. They’re all gentle and minimal, with pretty singing. We also have four guitarists soloing at the same time. It’s all about hooks, plus tons of spacey improv.

From what I understand, your second solo record is just about done as well. What’s the story behind that?
The title is Good God. It’s done and mastered. It’s similar but way different to Infinite Ease. It’s 10 songs of pretty straight-ahead country-rock — short songs and ballads. Northern Spy is waiting to see what happens with Infinite Ease. Maybe they’ll release Good God in the fall; maybe someone else will. A free download will be available on Last.fm in the next couple of weeks. I also have another Orchestra record, which I haven’t started yet, that I plan on making with Northern Spy. It’s going to be a doozy, maybe a double LP. Also, the CSC Funk Band is doing an LP with the label.

All the music you’re making nowadays is a radical departure from the noise rock USA is a Monster churned out.
The Monster was an athletic math-noise-prog freak out. The Orchestra isn’t loud. There are nine people, but our amps are pretty low.

The first couple Monster records, specifically Citizens of the Universe and the Masonic Chronic EP, had their twangy moments, but those disappeared by the time Load Records put out Tasheyana Compost in 1993.
At one point Tommy said, “I don’t want to play rock ‘n’ roll anymore.” That’s when we turned into a prog band. That was fun, but it wasn’t my deal, totally. I’m doing minimalism right now.

Now about the CSC Funk Band: It’s a large ensemble like the Orchestra, and it consists of many of the same musicians, right?
More or less, plus a few changes in instrumentation. The Funk Band has been playing for over two years, working on rhythm & blues and repetition. We’ve put out two seven-inches. Our drummer, Jimmy Thomson, who is the best percussionist I know, started a label that is kicking ass. It’s called Electric Cowbell. It’s a 45 label. He released six this year.

Repetition and minimalism are vital components to both the Orchestra and the Funk Band. Working with minimalist composer Rhys Chatham must’ve influenced your current projects.
Definitely. Just about every motherfucker who was in the 200 Guitar Orchestra is doing a minimalism thing right now. Playing with him, I also got to work with Jonathan Kane. He is hugely influenced by Rhys as well. He basically makes boogie-woogie versions of Rhys’ pieces. I then took that concept in a country-swing direction with the Orchestra.

Can you talk a little more about working with Rhys?
I was in the 200 Guitar Orchestra the year it got rained out. That was either 2007 or ’08, basically the year before it was recorded for Nonesuch Records. But I also did 100 Guitars with Rhys. And I did G3 with him. He is incredibly inspiring. His music makes you high. The overtones create elation.

Let’s turn to the USA is a Monster. There is a new album out called R.I.P. Its existence must come as a surprise to all the fans who assumed the band was over.
This new label called Northern Spy released it. Folks still want to put out the Monster. Both Tom and I think that’s cool. As for the record, it came out in November, and it’s a doozie — six months of overdubs and mixing. It’s a motherfucker.

Did you guys record R.I.P. before or after the farewell show back in May of 2009?
We had two recording sessions. One was the day before the farewell show, actually. Tom then did his overdubs in the few weeks after the farewell show, before he left New York for Michigan. I sat on the record for about six months. Then this dude Max Hodes and I mixed it. That took months. It’s a big production: three-part harmonies and all kinds of psychedelic shit. Folks might like Space Programs better, because we sound like a band. Whereas, with this one, it’s Tom’s music, and then it’s my music.

R.I.P. documents the last incarnation of the Monster, which included two extra musicians, Maxx Katz and Peter Schuette, both on synths. Looking back, why did you and Tom add them?
For our second-to-last record, Space Programs, we purposefully added tons of overdubs, layers, and textures that could not be recreated by a two-piece live. Tom, especially, was feeling constricted by the two-piece thing. At some point after that, we took a hiatus. When we regrouped to determine the future of the band, we decided to beef up the sound by adding personnel. Up to then Tom had been playing foot organ, keyboards, vocals, and drums, all at the same time. We put an end to that. He just played drums and sang on the last tour, while I just played guitar and sang, no octave pedal.

You and Tom threw a record-release party last November, yet the Monster didn’t play. Who did, exactly?
The show was rad! All kinds of people came: old friends, kids, random people off the street. While some were confused, it seemed really obvious and natural that Tom and I should spotlight our new bands: mine, the Colin L. Orchestra, and Tom’s (from) the Sky. An USA is a Monster “reunion” never crossed our minds. Jonathan Kane played, too.

Speaking of live shows, last October you were in residency at Zebulon in Brooklyn. That must’ve been a blast and really kind of mind-blowing, considering the great Richard Bishop was there back in July.
It was great. I want people to sit down when listening to my music, and Zebulon has chairs. I wasn’t trying to make them move. I tried to make them chill and space out.

What does a month-long residency at Zebulon entail, exactly?
Sir Richard Bishop did a month of Mondays last summer, and it was so much fun. I booked the whole night, every Monday, even DJs. I basically needed an excuse to get my Orchestra to be a real band and not just a special-occasion one. We’re too many dudes to do a tour right off the bat, plus I can’t get that many musicians in a room for rehearsals very often. So, a residency was the perfect solution. I just asked Zebulon. They said yes. It was amazing. I got [Jonny] Corndawg to play, Marc Orleans and Tom Carter, and other folks. The band got way better over that month.

On to Bongladesh. The video, which was posted to YouTube and Vimeo, blew my mind — 19 minutes of trippy-ass animation and twisted stoner-rock gloriousness. What’s up with that beast?
Bongladesh was a project with the people I used to live with in Greenpoint. We all said, “Lets do some kind of silly one-off project.” The Funk Band is like Bongladesh, actually. Both are minimalism, repetition, and improvisation. But with Bongladesh, it was like, “Hey, lets make a video for YouTube.” That was the concept, and it took a year to complete.

That’s a long time to spend on a one-off project.
Yeah. We agreed to this, but then handed [animator, bassist and co-composer] Sara Shapouri a 19-minute song. The video, which is so amazing, took her a really long time.

Speaking of visual art, you and your partner, artist Deya Ramsden, had an exhibit at Mountain Fold, on Fifth Avenue, last summer. How did that turn out?
The Mountain Fold gallery is home to some of our favorite friends here in New York. More than a year ago they said we really need to do a show there. It was called The Outdoors Upstairs, and it was just Deya and I doing our thing. Deya’s art is so natural and rad. Mine is a hobby. I’m not particularly great, but I don’t care. I think I did stuff for the show that is some of my best. I turned my gnarly scribbles into three-dimensional window hangings — finally something good!

So, did we miss anything?
Oh yeah. I’m working on a song right now that I want to sell to [Americana singer] Jonny Corndawg. It would be a Corndawg/Juiceboxxx country-rap-disco tune. I listened to a lot of disco this year, so I wanted to write a super-pop song about being broke. I want it to sound like Pro Tools country music. They’ll never do it, but they should!

The Village Voice just published its Pazz & Jop critics’ poll for 2010. My ballot can be found HERE. I’m also posting it below.* 

Albums
1. Moritz Von Oswald Trio, Live in New York (Honest Jon’s)
2. Emeralds, Does It Look Like I’m Here? (Editions Mego)
3. Conrad Schnitzler, Zug (M=Minimal)
4. No UFO’s, Soft Coast (Nice Up International)
5. Sightings, City of Straw (Brah)
6. Thomas Fehlmann, Gute Luft (Kompakt)
7. Demdike Stare, Liberation Through Hearing (Modern Love)
8. Shed, The Traveller (Ostgut Ton)
9. Scott Tuma, Dandelion (Digitalis)
10. Villages, The Last Whole Earth (Harvest Recordings)

Singles
1. Silent Servant, “Regis Edit” (Sandwell District)
2. Cosmin TRG, “Liebe Suende” (Rush Hour)
3. Sigha, “Shake” (Hot Flush)
4. T++, “Cropped” (Honest Jon’s)
5. Marcel Fengler, “Rapture” (Ostgut Ton)
6. Sandra Electronics, “It Slipped Her Mind” (Downwards)
7. Mark Ernestus, “Masikulu Dub” (Congotronics)
8. Delta Funktionen, “Abundance” (Ann Aimee)
9. Cassegrain, “Olbia” (Mikrowave)
10. Crystal Ark, “The City Never Sleeps” (DFA)

In addition to ballots, critics are also encouraged to submit year-in-review essays and comments. A few get published, many do not. An essay I quickly penned on how 2010 was the year I obsessed over Sandwell District is one of the latter. Oh well.**

Here it is…

It’s damn near impossible to say any one movement dominates techno in 2010. After 20-plus years of robust evolution and revolution, the genre is too fractured, fragmented and expansive for any kind of single-narrative, end-of-year summation. That said, over the last several years, the most exciting development in techno has been the music’s reaffirmation of its (often misunderstood and overlooked) roots in early-1980s post-punk and industrial music.

Underground rock scribe J. Marlowe, who used to spew some wondrously poetic venom in the pages of the now mythical zine Ugly American, once waxed philosophic about how techno, often a mirror of modern civilization’s relationship to the technology it produces, vacillates between utopian/technophiliac-based sounds and dystopian/technophobic ones. This vacillation appears to be occurring right now. While stalwarts such as Detroit’s DeepChord/Echospace axis and the Kompakt label (see Thomas Fehlmann’s masterful Gute Luft LP and Walls’ self-titled swim through electro-gaze bliss, both which were released in 2010) continue to trade in the kind of warm and fuzzy minimal techno that really started to take off about a decade ago, a new wave of producers, DJs, imprints and clubs are now revisiting the cold and mechanical.

The new movement’s biggest names are associated with the increasingly hip Ostgut Ton label and the related Berghain/Panorama Bar (a Berlin club whose location, a former power plant, reflects the new music’s throwback industrial vibe). Two genuine poster boys exist: Marcel Dettmann and Ben Klock. The latter dude, who dropped the exquisite Berghain 04 mix this year, pulverized my noggin at the Detroit Electronic Music Festival last May with an onslaught of brutal and stridently sculpted beats that felt as visceral and imposing as anything currently coming out of America’s harsh-noise scene — no lie.

I totally dig both Klock and Dettmann, but it’s the slightly more under-the-radar Sandwell District imprint that I’m really, truly obsessed with these days. With strong links to Downwards, the U.K. label that pretty much wrote the book on relentlessly hard techno in the late 1990s, Sandwell District’s catalog — boasting titles from Function, Silent Servant, Kalon/Regis (Karl O’Connor) and Female (Peter Sutton) — reaches as far back as 2002. Yet it is 2010 that feels like the label’s true coming out party. S.D. was busier than ever this year, releasing five killer records: Sandwell District (Sampler Single One) 12″, Sandwell District (Sampler Single Two) 12″, Feed Forward Test Session 12″, Feed Forward LP and Function’s Variance 1-3.

Sandwell District and Basic Channel, in terms of image and branding, share much in common. This is an odd thing to say, because it is the latter, the duo of Moritz von Oswald and Mark Ernestus, who laid the foundation for all the warm-n-fuzzy stuff I mentioned up above. Sandwell District, much like Basic Channel in the mid 1990s, operates in relative anonymity. The label is all about willful “obscurism”: no magazine advertisements, no sleek website, no MySpace, no real base of operations — just a head-scratching Tumblr blog full of noir-inspired artwork and very little vital information. Its twelve-inches come housed in plain white sleeves, featuring rough-hewn, utilitarian design-work: stark black-and-white imagery and bold fonts that (maybe) call to mind top secret CIA communiqués from the early days of The Cold War.

Sonically, however, Sandwell District is Basic Channel’s alter ego. Its stable flips their predecessors’ aesthetic — a monochromatic nexus of reverb, squelch, bass and electro-bleep — on its head. Where Ernestus and von Oswald strove for the sublime and reflective, with grooves that breathed rather than pulsated, S.D. is frigid and sharp, celebrating the inorganic. We’re talking authentic cold wave here. Of course, that phrase, “cold wave,” is commonly used to describe nostalgic synth-pop acts like Cold Cave and Xeno & Oaklander. But that’s a waste of one cool tag. Tracks like Silent Servant’s “Regis Edit,” off Sampler Single One, and the un-credited throbber closing out the b-side of Sampler Single Two, feel like the true 21st-century progeny of Throbbing Gristle, Section 25, Test Dept., Metal Boys, Japan’s Tolerance and other post-punk/industrial pioneers. In other words, the cold wave of NOW.

My favorite of this year’s Sandwell District releases is Variance 1-3 from Function, whose moniker fits this music to a tee. The twelve-inch embodies everything I love about techno; it’s dark, brooding, stripped-down and relentlessly inhuman. A meditation on smoldering paranoia, it’s perfect for 3 a.m. headphone abuse. The tracks groove in ways human drummers — and this includes Neu!’s Klaus Dinger — simply cannot. The beats, which burn like metal-on-metal ozone, never fatigue. Additionally, they contain zero variables in terms of execution and meter. They are all too proud to perform one simple, uh, function: constant forward propulsion.

Of course, in this fickle age who knows if techno’s newish-found love of its industrial roots can sustain itself — probably not. But even if it can’t, it’s exciting to once again be listening to music that turns blood into wires, bone into steel.

May 2011 be, in the words of J. Marlowe, as technophobic as its predecessor.

Notes:
*If you’ve never heard of Pazz & Jop (something that wouldn’t surprise me, considering we music critics are a fat bunch o’ nobodies), check out this Wiki.
**A big THANK YOU goes out to my pal John Cellura, who owns Bent Crayon in Cleveland, Ohio. John’s record store is my fave in America — no contest. Over the last 12 months, he recommended many of the releases that found their way into my ballot. That’s because John has impeccable taste.

My essay on The Moritz von Oswald Trio appears in the latest issue of Burning Ambulance, a quarterly journal of music and the arts. You can purchase a digital download and/or a wonderful hard copy (104 pages) via Lulu.com.

A big THANK YOU goes out to Burning Ambulance editor-in-chief Phil Freeman. In an era when 100-word blurbs dominate music writing, Freeman is dedicated to publishing long-form profiles and essays on wildly obscure subjects. It’s an approach that might not pay the bills, but fuck it. It’s the way things should be. For instance: in this issue my 5,000-word feature on Oswald rubs shoulders with extended articles covering Anthony Braxton, Jon Irabagon and David Weiss, respectively. That’s awesome.

Pick up your copy NOW.