dark

Pune Highway (11/11/2010)

mandy — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 16:00:00 +0000

London, England

During my childhood, visits to India were largely spent travelling. A lot of this involved time on the infamous GT Road, a dry scaly snake taking us wherever we wanted to go. Aside from the beauty of fields either side, there was always the fear of danger lurking nearby. Visiting these roads was always interesting—but you knew they had the potential to harbour deadly forces. Whenever something happened, people would react wildly. The road was both a blessing and a curse, progressive in its promise, but with a lot to hide.

Whenever an incident on happened we looked on in wonder, not really knowing protocol. Minor scuffles in traffic would result in typical rambunctious arguments which proved entertaining for some—but larger incidents were a different matter. A cyclist thrown off his bike, for example, would result in a series of complexities not only for the culprit but also for spectators. Typically, they’d refrain from contacting the authorities, afraid of opening a can of worms.

One macabre incident, featured in the Times of India, inspired Rahul Da Cunha to create the play Pune Highway. Described as a "dark comedy thriller and a brutal exposition of friendship," Pune Highway is currently showing at Watermans Theatre in West London for a limited time. Rage Productions launched the play in Bombay to much critical acclaim.

On first seeing Pune Highway last night, I found it a raw and absorbing delight. With a sombre set and atmospheric lighting, the play revolves around three friends who have just witnessed the death of a fourth. As we open to a dank hotel room beside Pune Highway, three Bombay men are in turmoil, uncertain as to what their next actions are going to be.

It’s five in the morning, but no one is sleeping. The night before they were all subject to terrible events: a corpse lay on the road before them, but on closer inspection, they realised that it was not a corpse at all. Bags of rice had been laid out, designed to fool them. On realisation that they’ve been had, one of the party was attacked whilst the others fled.

While watching this play, I was quickly taken back to my own experiences of quiet Indian hotels. We’d usually rock up in a roadside three-star perched on the corner of a main highway hoping for the best. Usually it’s not the hotels themselves, but the occupants that make them such eerie places. I’m often reminded of Industrial expansion in America and Hitchcock’s Psycho. Our three characters are constantly on edge; they’re middle class men from Bombay: one with a former coke habit, another is having an extra-marital affair, and the third is wrestling with his conscience and a stammer. As they bicker and reminisce amongst themselves, things begin to get a little twisted as certain truths are revealed.

Rajit Kapur (Pramod), Ashwin Mushran (Vishnu), and Bugs Bhargava Krishna (Nicholas) have an excellent believable chemistry between them. You’d think they easily shared a childhood or a long personal history. Their suspicious waiter for the evening (Shankar Sachdev) makes regular appearances on the scene and speaks a type of street slang synonymous with his film roles. Unfortunately, the Hindi interludes are lost on some members of the London cosmopolitan audience.

Yamini Namjoshi, who plays Mona, relieves some of the tension with her spirited performance. Added to her character is a certain mystery that makes you realise all the characters in this play are truly multidimensional. As such, the play proves itself a strong candidate of the Problem Play genre. Neither too comedic nor melodramatic, it moves successfully through a gripping plot.

Overall, Pune Highway is a well woven mystery with little to fault it. The play’s ultimate success is that it leaves you wondering about the incident that inspired it: how many horrors have we actually seen on the major roads that network India? And what does our growing apathy and fear tell us about how we’re growing as a nation?

Pune Highway runs for a limited time in London before moving to New York and Washington, D.C. in June 2011.

Cross-posted at The NRI

Written by: Sandeep Sandhu, November 24th 2010

Heartwood

mandy — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 17:26:07 +0000

By Sora

Canada Music

Canadian artist Sora lists Loreena McKennitt as one of her greatest musical influences, a fact that is apparent on her latest musical effort, Heartwood. A beautifully put together collection of songs that conjure up druid celebrations and ancient royal courts, the album is reminiscent of McKennitt's modern Celtic style. Inspiration aside, Sora is very much her own artist and Heartwood showcases her talents as both a singer and songwriter.

The title track is a great beginning to the album, and a wonderful introduction to Sora's artistic abilities. She has a classically beautiful voice that can be strong, airy, or sorrowful. For the most part, Heartwood's tracks are pretty, soothing songs that remind one of laughter, love, and sun-filled days. The album offers some variety with Sora delving into her dark side for a few songs.

The best of these darker tunes is “Eurydice,” a haunting song that possesses a hypnotic beat and seductive lyrics. The instrumentals on the album are also well done, blending perfectly with Sora's vocals. The violin and piano work is especially impressive on “Drift” and “Winter.” On both tracks, the music perfectly sets the tone for the listener before seamlessly weaving itself in with Sora's voice, making for wonderful pieces of audio art.

The cover art on Heartwood is a simple photo of Sora, tinted in warm shades of brown and gold with some etchings behind her. Heartwood also features an insert booklet with the lyrics for each song—something I personally find extremely helpful—as well as photographs of whimsical items such as feathers, leaves, stones, and bits of ribbon. The earthy yet enchanting look reflects the tone of the album and gives the listener a good indication of the mood Sora is trying to set.

With its powerful vocals and mesmerizing instrumentals, Heartwood is an album that will not disappoint. Long-time Celtic fans and those new to the genre should find it a satisfying listening experience.

Written by: Victoria Kroeger, September 4th 2010

The Last Days of Emma Blank

admin — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 15:55:00 +0000

Directed by Alex van Warmerdam

Fortissimo Films

Emma Blank believes death is eminent. Surrounded by a sulky if compliant staff in her large home near the Dutch dunes, she shouts absurd orders in between bemoaning her fate. “Don’t worry,” she assures her impatient employees. “Before winter, I’ll be dead.”

Emma’s character is frustratingly distempered. Seemingly with no idea what is good for her, she demands an eel for breakfast, then violently vomits while her staff stands around shaking their heads with annoyance. It’s clear no one in the house has any sympathy for her condition, whatever mysterious ailment it may be. Meijer, the houseboy, expresses his hatred by mowing a swastika into the front yard. In cyclical fashion, Emma returns their collective disdain, at one point exclaiming, “It’s as if I’m surrounded by a bunch of toddlers with brain damage! Do your work with devotion, with a smile. Is that too much to ask?”

For much of the film, it is difficult to discern the relationship between Emma and her staff. Gonnie could be her daughter, or it could be a case of Emma’s misplaced affection. Meijer could be Gonnie’s cousin, or her boyfriend. In the beginning, Haneveld appears to be Emma’s husband, lying beside her in bed when she requests and adhering a fake moustache to his upper lip when she demands that he do so. Yet Bella, who appears to be the head of the waitstaff, also makes snide comments to Haneveld. “I’m not giving you another hand job for a while,” she threatens. Are they having an affair? What’s really going on here? How do these people know each other, and what the hell does it all mean?

Most alarming and the one truly humorous aspect of the film, Theo (played by director van Warmerdam), a fully-grown man, acts the part of the household dog, alternately bringing in dead peasants, humping Emma’s chair, and shitting in the yard. Does he think he’s a dog? Is this poor casting? Is it some sort of allegory about the plight of enslaved humans?

The central plot device—if, like me, you are unable to decipher what’s happening before it is actually revealed—happens roughly an hour into the film. With less than thirty minutes left to tie up loose ends, including Emma’s inevitable demise, the film rushes to an end and leaves several major storylines intentionally up in the air. Will the hired help inherit the house? Will their relationships survive in the wake of their time with their she-devil employer?

In Dutch with English subtitles, this truly bizarre, dark, situational comedy isn’t for everyone; frankly, I find it a stretch to label The Last Days of Emma Blank a comedy at all. But if you like feeling ill at ease, a bit discombobulated, or even thoroughly annoyed by what people will do for money, this bewilderingly strange film is for you.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, July 19th 2010

The Rest of Your Life

admin — Mon, 03 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Debbie Cunningham

Intrigue Productions

As an avid jazz fan, I was delighted to review Debbie Cunningham’s album of standards. I was even more delighted when I received the CD in the mail and found that Cunningham is from my native Tennessee. A blurb on the back of the jewel case read that it was a “great CD to just kick back with a glass of wine and relax,” so I prepared accordingly. The verdict? It was, indeed, quite an enjoyable experience.

The professional, smooth sound of the trio first caught my attention. Pianist Barry Sames, percussionist Wilby Fletcher, and bassists Lee Smith and Mike Boone have created solid ensemble with guest instrumentalists on various tracks, and with Cunningham. A mellow, light touch from the trio set an appropriate lounge mood. John Swana’s muted trumpet solo on “My Funny Valentine” is spot on and probably my favorite interlude on the album.

Cunningham’s voice is polished; hers is a higher voice than one often hears, but she still delivers the smoothness one expects. I only have two comments to make on Cunningham’s delivery; that on lower passages, she seemed a little more hesitant and projects a tone that is not as rich; and there was a lack of manipulation of the melody. This is a mellower album, yes, but it would have been nice to hear a bit more of an Ella-inspired tonal play.

In “Our Love Is Here To Stay,” she does employ various vocal qualities, namely a sampling of scat, extended straight tone, and a playful staccato, which was a nice juxtaposition to the more slow pieces on the album. Her rendition of “The Rest of Your Life” was surprisingly introspective and dark, a departure from saucier, bossa nova renditions I’ve heard in the past. However, Sames’ sensitive piano interlude validates and reinforces this choice. Cunningham’s voice shines on this piece in particular; there is a depth to her interpretation and a force behind her enunciation that draws in the listener. This piece serves as a lovely ending to a thoughtful and professionally executed album.

Written by: Cristin Colvin, May 3rd 2010

Mathilda Savitch

admin — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Victor Lodato

Picador

Despite years of being told not to, I immediately judged Victor Lodato’s novel Mathilda Savitch by the cover. I opened it expecting to speed through a mature version of Harriet the Spy with a twist of Tim Burton’s eccentricity. The title suggested a fantastic world not unlike Coraline; however, the fantasy of Mathilda Savitch is of the saddest shade.

Young Mathilda Savitch is a teenager who introduces herself in the first line of the book by saying, “I want to be awful.” Disoriented by the sudden death of her older sister Helene, Mathilda descends into an internal world of obsessive compulsive habits, nightmares, and delusion. Her home reflects her dark imagination, as her mother has succumbed to depression and alcoholism while her father weakly tries to maintain the family’s previous levity.

Mathilda Savitch is bitterly funny at times, reminiscent of The Catcher in the Rye or The Bell Jar. While it’s supposed to be a coming-of-age story—addressing menstruation, sexual experimentation, as well as basic rebellion—it feels more like a moment fixed in time.

While there are wonderful moments in the book, it isn’t flawless. A parallel theme of terrorism felt superficial and gratuitous. I also wasn’t completely convinced by Mathilda’s voice, especially when it came to puberty and sexuality. As a woman, I did not sense authenticity in these moments as I did when she was frustrated with her parents or missing her sister. Her thoughts, which compose the majority of the book, often sound more like staged monologues.

In fact, Lodato is a playwright and a poet, and this is his debut novel. Bits of the text read like poetry—“Window eyes, a window nose, and a door for a mouth”—while other parts sound like a play. Overall, however, Lodato has captured a painful stream of consciousness. I could imagine myself as a sometimes unhappy teenager wanting to find a dark place, alone, to obsess over Mathilda Savitch like a secret friend. This is a book worth reading, and although a fast read, it is not best suited for the beach.

Written by: Claire Burrows, April 16th 2010

Tidings

admin — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Wolf People

Jagjaguwar

The first Wolf People album released in the U.S., Tidings is comprised of three years worth of psychedelic, folksy Brit rock recordings, some of which were composed before the formation of the current lineup. The tracks often blend together, and multiple interludes—one appropriately titled “Scraps”—stitch together thirty-second banjo solos and full-length songs about darkness and friendship.

Single “October Fires” is a catchy tune, the best produced of the slightly haphazard bunch. With an infectious guitar riff repeated throughout, it sounds as though it could have been written any time within the last thirty years—and that’s quite a compliment, as it would have stood the test of time were it a vintage track. “Black Water” follows in close second place, a song that feels reminiscent of a British brewpub full of smokers in leather jackets.

I’m admittedly torn about the resurgence of wolf popularity. While other similarly named bands—Wolf Eyes, Wolfmother, Wolf Colonel, Sea Wolf, even the forerunner, now-defunct Wolfie—may have long ago signaled the popular rise of ugly kitsch, I’m one of those girls who grew up with kids in the wolf t-shirts. You know the ones I mean; every hipster boutique is selling them these days, complete with the terrible blue-gray tie-dye and moon shining on the gray wolf silkscreen. Even Shakira has a song out about how she’s a “she wolf.” (Why must gender be assumed male unless otherwise stated?)

In the past, Wolf People have supported the likes of Dinosaur Jr. on tour. Hit up the Jagjaguwar site to see when they might roll through your region to promote Tidings.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, February 14th 2010

Balf Quarry

admin — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 08:23:00 +0000

By Magik Markers

Drag City

Magik Markers will never have the fame to reflect their talent, which is a shame and says more about the music industry than their ability to create fine music. One could classify Magik Markers’ sound as noise rock, but only a few tracks on their latest album Balf Quarry would live up to that label.

Influence from Sonic Youth and other No Wave bands are apparent on tracks like “Risperdal” and “State Numbers,” where it sounds more like spoken word poetry over a cornucopia of sounds created both instrumentally and experimentally. Other tracks, however, show that the duo doesn’t limit themselves to such abstractness, but rather have the ability to create complex melodies, some more apparent than others. “Don’t Talk in Your Sleep,” for example, pairs hearty blues chords, drum machine beats and a slight echoing funk vamp all working together to accompany strong female vocals delivering a warning to all potential cheaters out there. Later in the album, as Elisa Ambrogio’s voice softens from the beginning of the album’s more raucous tracks, a downright twang can be detected in the guitars in “Ohio R./Live/Hoosier.”

The album is nicely capped off with “Shells,” a ten minute strain of dark yet harmoniously hymnal-like sounds eventually evolving into lyric support after the four minute mark. What follows is a true testament to Ambrogio’s vocal ability perfectly paired with Pete Nolan’s mastery of making experimental sounds pleasing to the ear. The track is an adequate representation of the album because of its sonar spectrum. Many songs lack traditional structure, making listening more of a challenge, but one thing Magik Markers have is the power to keep you engaged.

This isn’t an album to play while you’re cleaning the bathroom. You’d be ruining a perfect opportunity to give the album the attention it demands. Rather, put it on, sit down, and let yourself be guided. Balf Quarry is a fully complete album demonstrating that sometimes good music is hard to listen to, but the reward at the end is twice as much. It turns listening from passive to active in one tickle of the distortion key.

Written by: Sara Custer, October 7th 2009

Stagestruck Vampires and Other Phantasms

admin — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 17:15:00 +0000

By Suzy McKee Charnas

Tachyon Publications

Recently, during a discussion on the flaws of Twilight, an acquaintance of mine made a rather insightful statement. “The vampire is supposed to die. Period.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love a sexy paranormal as much as the next chick, but lately I’ve noticed that a lot of vampires have, for lack of a better pun, lost their bite. The recent trend with all things horror and fantasy has been to either neuter or glamorize what were once considered spine-chilling denizens of darkness. Soul-less vampires and bloodthirsty werewolves have been replaced by pretty boys wearing leather who have brooding puppy dogs. Sexy? Yes. Blood curdling? Not so much. It is for this reason I say, thank God for Suzy McKee Charnas.

Winner of such prestigious science fiction/fantasy awards as the Hugo, Nebula, and Tiptree, Charnas reminds us why we are afraid of the dark. In her works, creatures of the night are sinister, vicious, and yes, even downright scary. Stagestruck Vampires and Other Phantasms is a collection of Charnas’s previously published dark fantasy short-stories, plus two new autobiographical essays. The first essay, “The Stagestruck Vampire,” is about Charnas’s exasperating experiences trying to turn one of her works into a play. In the other, “They’re Right, Art is Long,” Charnas explores how her own personal feminism has shaped her works and career. Both are charming, informative pieces that give the reader a nice insight into the author’s mind.

The best in the bunch is “Beauty and the Opera,” an alternate ending to the classic Phantom of the Opera story. In this version, Christine agrees to live with the Phantom for five years as his wife in exchange for Raoul’s life. Told from Christine’s point of view, the story is equal parts horror and romance. The Phantom featured here is the disturbed, disfigured killer from the novel, not the tragically romantic character that usually dominates the movies and stage. Charnas’s writing is dark, seductive and engaging, drawing the reader into a tale of macabre beauty.

My other favorite story was “Boobs,” a tale of a teenage werewolf who gets revenge on a boy who has been teasing her about her chest size. Probably the most unusual coming-of-age story you’ll read this year, it was satisfying in an A Rose for Emily kind of way. The other stories in the collection are a showcase of horrific oddity. Edgar Allen Poe meets The Twilight Zone.

This is real horror, not the gruesome blood fests that have come to dominate the genre in recent years. The stories are a creepy good time, and while you won’t lose sleep after reading them, you’ll probably want to check under your bed. Just in case.

Written by: Victoria Kroeger, September 2nd 2009

Come with Me if You Want to Live

admin — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 22:44:00 +0000

By Goblin Cock

Robcore Records

After listening to Goblin Cock’s new record, Come with Me if You Want to Live, I’ve decided to start my own sludge metal band. However, I’m having a few problems thinking of a name with a good female twist. Somehow the band name “Ogre Vag” just doesn’t have the right ring.

At any rate, Goblin Cock’s mix of indie and metal would suffice for anyone looking for an appropriate soundtrack for a movie involving Norse mythology and lots of beast slaying. You know those bands like The Locust that have, like, a billion guitar effects? “Who needs such pompous drivel” scoffs Lord Phallus and Bane Ass-Pounder (guitar/vocals and lead guitar, respectively). “We need nothing in our lives, nothing…but sweet fuzz. And names that make you think of penises!”

They really are a commercial for fuzz pedals. It’s like that advertisement for Dior perfume that Charlize Theron was in: “gold is cold…diamonds are dead.” Strip off your clothes! You don’t need them! Wear J’adore! Maybe that’s why Goblin Cock always wears cloaks. “Flangers are fallacious…reverb is reprobate! You don’t need anything but cloaks and fuzz!”

I do have some suggestions for listening for the uninitiated: make sure to bang your head and raise your right hand in the form of a chalice (palm raised with fingers curled upward) to conjure the appropriate hobgoblin while listening. I would also suggest a magical rune decoder device if you would like to decipher the liner notes. And no, the Snuggie does not look like a pagan Stonehenge-worshipper’s shroud. It is for reclining, not rocking out. Also, for any of you ladies who plan on going to one of their shows, be prepared for seas of boys aged 14-17, and, of course, that one guy who is hairier than a chinchilla and has no shirt on.

Wait—I think I have it—maybe “Witch’s Tit”? Perhaps the poetically pleasing “Haint Hoo Haa” for a bit of alliteration? No, hold the phone—I’ve got it! “Breast of the Beast”!

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, April 1st 2009

Tchamantché

admin — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 22:39:00 +0000

By Rokia Traoré

Nonesuch Records

Malian singer Rokia Traoré blends African music with European and American folk music to create a sound that is interesting, balanced, and beautiful. As someone who fits more comfortably on the metal side of the spectrum, I have not removed this disc from my stereo since I first listened to it a month ago. Rokia Traoré is on permanent rotation (amongst Converge and Black Sabbath, mind you).

Her voice is clear, well-studied, and flawless. Traoré makes the slightest vocal trill sound like the auditory equivalent of a da Vinci. It is a voice that trembles with pain and rumbles with anger (Nina Simone comes to mind) while delivering a sweetly joyous edge (a la Joni Mitchell).

The production value on this album is also incredible. I love the crispness with which the vocals and instruments were recorded. I actually can’t think of enough positive commentary to fit in this review. Sexy, soulful, and fantastic—make sure to check out her music on YouTube for live performances that will also blow you away.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, March 18th 2009

Caught In The Trees

admin — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 17:28:00 +0000

By Damien Jurado

Secretly Canadian

Damien Jurado is no spring chicken. He’s been making music since the mid-nineties and indie fave record label Sub Pop produced his first four solo albums. His time with Sub Pop proved to be a much more musically experimental one compared to his previous tried and true time as a folky balladeer. Jurado united with Indiana-based Secretly Canadian in 2003 for his album Where Shall You Take Me? and returned to his folk sound, a task that he excels at. Caught In The Trees is absolutely, positively no exception to the rule.

Released on last month, Jurado’s Caught In The Trees has the look and feel of his previous releases, but with a little bit more pep and edge. Lyrically, he’s known for his evocative story-telling abilities, but this album acted as a catharsis of sorts for Jurado. He took an entire year to record Caught In The Trees, longer than any previous album.

Collaboration with his friends and band mates, Eric Fisher and Jenna Conrad, is cited as the explanation for the lengthy creative endeavor. The result is a much heartier sound than before, and Fisher and Conrad’s contributions substantially complement Jurado’s foray into more personal territory. He turned inward this time, rather than weaving the usually poetic, yet melancholic yarns of hypothetical characters. He looks to record-making, identity, and pain as fodder for his deep well of dark reflection. It’s undoubtedly upbeat compared to previous productions, but still carries the deeply gloomy substance that we’ve become so accustomed to in his musical explorations. It’s refreshingly cathartic (even as a listener) to get a glimpse into the psyche of Jurado, and this album is an unmistakably fruitful journey.

Written by: Erin K. Murphy, October 17th 2008

Fabriclive.40

admin — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 18:27:00 +0000

By Noisia

Fabric Records

Sound aficionados who venture forth on the Fabric path will discover music that is progressive, exciting, and out of this world. If you’re not a fan of drum n bass, break beats, and electronic music, you have to make the commitment to listen, but if you love sound and the evolution of human creative expression, that commitment is not hard to make.

Noisia is the Dutch trio of Nik Roos, Martijn Van Sonderen, and Thijs de Vlieger. They have been involved in the drum n bass music scene since 1998, and own two record labels: Vision and Division. They have performed across the world, working with major artists like Robbie Williams and Moby.

Fabriclive.40 is a mixed CD, which includes many of Noisia’s own tracks. As long as you enjoy robotic beings from the twenty-fifth century's outer space blasting back to our timeframe to teach us new and different things, Fabriclive.40 is incredible!

The first song sets the listener up for the experience. It is the only song with words, and those words are: “Ladies and Gentleman, can I please have your attention. I’ve just been handed an urgent and horrifying news story. I mean all of you stop what you’re doing and listen.” How can you not pay attention after that?

The music, at times, is harsh, disjointed, and dark. The drumbeat is relentless. Fabriclive.40 is shadowy future trek where you have to leave your mind at home to listen.

Some folks might think this music is just noise. However, if you make that commitment to listen, you’ll discover the melodies in this album that are like having veins of solid gold.

Written by: Patricia Ethelwyn Lang, August 1st 2008

Lake Bottom LP

admin — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 23:44:00 +0000

By The Chapin Sisters

Plain Recordings

The strong and lovely voices of the Chapin Sisters offer a raw, deep-down quality to Lake Bottom LP. Listeners who have ever found themselves betrayed by a lover will relate; a theme of troubled love runs through all eleven tracks. The sisters sing about temptation, jealousy, promises kept and broken, loneliness, and longing. Of course, the approach is not feeble or helpless. Rather, honesty and courage abound as needs are identified and communicated, and true feelings and desires are brought to the surface and proudly declared.

The main message is not anti-man or anti-lover; it’s actually very pro-self. The variety of music styles makes this album especially fun to listen to. Lilting harmonies and heartfelt lyrics result in an ear-catching mix of songs. The desperate, begging pleas of “Kill Me Now” complement selections like the catchy (but still melancholy) “Shady River" - the chorus of which stayed with me for days. While this is a perfect post-breakup album, it will be equally appreciated by those not in the midst of heartbreak drama. If you haven’t had a chance to give the Chapin Sisters a listen yet, be sure to check out Lake Bottom LP for a thorough taste of their style.

Written by: Amanda Moss, July 26th 2008

You May Already Be Dreaming

admin — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 17:54:00 +0000

By Neva Dinova

Saddle Creek

I stepped onto my balcony in the bright, cool morning and put in my earphones. Once I pressed play, everything seemed to slow down. As though following the tempo of this album, traffic slowed from its _Grand Theft Auto _pace and enjoyed the sunshine.

Having been compared to The Mountain Goats and Iron & Wine - with lyrics like “I’ve been dying for a year and ten days” or “It's so hard to love your body from the ground” - Neva Dinova’s music has that special something you can’t quite figure out. Whether country or rock, this music has a dark ethereal feel, at times, accompanied with the tone of a break up (from a guy's point of view). When listening to You May Already Be Dreaming, initially, my thought was that this is a CD you should get stoned to.

Made up of Heath Koontz, Jake Bellows, Mike Kratky, Tim Haes, and Roger Lewis, Neva Dinova got its start in 1993 in the cornfields of Omaha, NE. The band got its name from singer Jake Bellow’s grandmother. You May Already Be Dreaming is their third album with Saddle Creek Records. Even with a flood wiping out some of their equipment and a barroom brawl leaving Bellows with a blown out ear drum, they came out of these experiences with a strong album.

Written by: TygerLily Ernst, June 21st 2008

1932

admin — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 02:07:00 +0000

By Vertigo Butterfly

With Kandinsky on the cover and a name like Vertigo Butterfly, I desperately wanted to like 1932. But I couldn’t. Maybe the music is too moody. Maybe I had secretly hoped for some type of Jen Wood impersonation. Maybe I just couldn’t get past the operatic dramatic voice of Luray Hodder Kuca. Whatever it was, 1932 was a Black Tuesday for me – it just crashed.

The arrangements are good – fantastic even. John Kuca, Jr does an excellent job putting together the instrumentation and backing vocals. Classical guitar rocks, but mixed with Luray Hodder Kuca’s vocals, 1932 sounds too incarcerated by its own pretensions and frankly, is too avant garde for a steak and potatoes kind of girl like me. Listening to the album is like watching an Andy Warhol film, like Empire. You get the feeling it should be art, but you aren’t really sure why or how or what the devil is going on.

In a musical sense, Vertigo Butterfly wants to be Bjork. But without the craziness and that uniquely orgasmic voice that blasted Bjork out of the icy depths of Reykjavik, Vertigo Butterfly just makes Andy Warhol films.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, July 26th 2007