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viewing 1 To 25 of 29 items
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CD
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DESTIJL 123CD
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"Peter Jefferies's extraordinary debut solo album, The Last Great Challenge in a Dull World, first saw life as a cassette via the Xpressway label of Port Chalmers, New Zealand, in 1990. Though no one's gotten around to writing a book on it yet, The Last Great Challenge in a Dull World nonetheless stands as one of the singular singer-songwriter albums of all time, existing on a sparsely populated plane with Pink Moon, I Often Dream of Trains, Blues Run the Game, Our Mother the Mountain, and not many others. In a sandy voice that soothes and slashes, Jefferies offers a compassionate, piercingly lucid view of the endeavor of life, all our pain and small glories rendered in tones both harrowing and tender. On piano, drums and percussion, he pounds out melodies that roar, sweep and lilt, accompanied on many songs by the serrated guitars of a variety of players."
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DESTIJL 117CD
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"Chris Rose's Robust Worlds has impressed us since first glimpse. He was actually barefoot, if you can believe that, and his set had the feel of a way more lysergic Kevin Ayers. It was freezing fucking cold and I'm pretty sure he wore a Hawaiian shirt. His debut LP is called Emotional Planet, and it's deceptively simple. Voice, guitar, some noisy shit, whatever. His playing is sick: fluid, unforced, warm, soothed and soothing. It's a bath you don't want to exit. Seriously, if yr going to play guitar, play it like he does. With a trick in his back pocket and a heavy moon on his mind, Rose utilizes the sort of neo-noir narratives that you hear thru Neil Michael Hagerty, James Jackson Toth, Kurt Vile and other keen observers. Handguns, B&E, two-lane black tops, love, lust, and hard drugs. Life: summed up!"
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DESTIJL 117LP
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LP version. "Chris Rose's Robust Worlds has impressed us since first glimpse. He was actually barefoot, if you can believe that, and his set had the feel of a way more lysergic Kevin Ayers. It was freezing fucking cold and I'm pretty sure he wore a Hawaiian shirt. His debut LP is called Emotional Planet, and it's deceptively simple. Voice, guitar, some noisy shit, whatever. His playing is sick: fluid, unforced, warm, soothed and soothing. It's a bath you don't want to exit. Seriously, if yr going to play guitar, play it like he does. With a trick in his back pocket and a heavy moon on his mind, Rose utilizes the sort of neo-noir narratives that you hear thru Neil Michael Hagerty, James Jackson Toth, Kurt Vile and other keen observers. Handguns, B&E, two-lane black tops, love, lust, and hard drugs. Life: summed up!"
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DESTIJL 102LP
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LP version. "C S Yeh (C. Spencer Yeh) flings open the door and steps inside with Transitions, his first full-length album of songs after years of establishing himself as one of Earth's top humans in experimental music and unbound improvisation, both alone and in collaboration, on record and onstage. The effect Transitions has on you may or may not depend on your familiarity with Yeh's past work; regardless, his path in music has always been about and rather than or. And the addition to his catalog of work that Transitions represents is nothing short of startling: songs that flit between sculpted guitar riffs and measured, just-shy-of-lush synth-pop, wry lyrics delivered in guileless tones, the remarkable fact that Yeh made every sound on the record. All the same, his most ardent fans will have little trouble understanding the move and recognizing this distinct voice. Its plainspoken confidence and intrepid spirit are as present as when he's carving drones or emitting speckled and serrated noise. Transitions is simply a different form of Yeh's unmediated expression. As you'd guess, for a career outside guy really coming inside for the first time, Transitions involved quite a bit more behind the scenes strategizing than it would for some indie band on its third album. Think of how English can sound so jarringly beautiful on the tongue of non-native speakers: everything fits even when, maybe especially because things might seem ever so slightly off. Thus we have a new language of melodies, ones of a spirit with say, Slapp Happy, but which wouldn't sound out of place on a Magnetic Fields record. Ultimately, the pop heart on display is characterized by the artful mind behind it - and besides, when we say pop are we talking popular, or populist? Perhaps the space we're trying to sketch here could be found between the artists covered on Transitions: Father Yod and the Spirit of '76 and Stevie Nicks. Perhaps citing the varied examples of Jim O'Rourke, Dave Gahan and the aforementioned Peter Blegvad in artful songcraft could be useful (whether or not they were inspirations). Perhaps we're not talking about a space at all, but instead a particular sort of freedom in a music landscape defined by cages and enclosures. Questions, questions - what do we know, we're only observers. All that's really clear is that C. Spencer Yeh is transitioning into, not away from.
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DESTIJL 102CD
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"C S Yeh (C. Spencer Yeh) flings open the door and steps inside with Transitions, his first full-length album of songs after years of establishing himself as one of Earth's top humans in experimental music and unbound improvisation, both alone and in collaboration, on record and onstage. The effect Transitions has on you may or may not depend on your familiarity with Yeh's past work; regardless, his path in music has always been about and rather than or. And the addition to his catalog of work that Transitions represents is nothing short of startling: songs that flit between sculpted guitar riffs and measured, just-shy-of-lush synth-pop, wry lyrics delivered in guileless tones, the remarkable fact that Yeh made every sound on the record. All the same, his most ardent fans will have little trouble understanding the move and recognizing this distinct voice. Its plainspoken confidence and intrepid spirit are as present as when he's carving drones or emitting speckled and serrated noise. Transitions is simply a different form of Yeh's unmediated expression. As you'd guess, for a career outside guy really coming inside for the first time, Transitions involved quite a bit more behind the scenes strategizing than it would for some indie band on its third album. Think of how English can sound so jarringly beautiful on the tongue of non-native speakers: everything fits even when, maybe especially because things might seem ever so slightly off. Thus we have a new language of melodies, ones of a spirit with say, Slapp Happy, but which wouldn't sound out of place on a Magnetic Fields record. Ultimately, the pop heart on display is characterized by the artful mind behind it - and besides, when we say pop are we talking popular, or populist? Perhaps the space we're trying to sketch here could be found between the artists covered on Transitions: Father Yod and the Spirit of '76 and Stevie Nicks. Perhaps citing the varied examples of Jim O'Rourke, Dave Gahan and the aforementioned Peter Blegvad in artful songcraft could be useful (whether or not they were inspirations). Perhaps we're not talking about a space at all, but instead a particular sort of freedom in a music landscape defined by cages and enclosures. Questions, questions - what do we know, we're only observers. All that's really clear is that C. Spencer Yeh is transitioning into, not away from.
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DESTIJL 122EP
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"Aviram Cohen is a jerk. Who cares if he was in Silk Flowers, Soiled Mattress and The Springs, or the Germs rip-off The Bad Form? You can tell that his parents are immigrants. He's a suburbanite from New Jersey, and now, another New Yorker with an attitude, who learned how to use a sequencer to program synths and drum machines, so that he can sing about how boring life can be. It's like he's creating all this atmosphere because it's lacking in his life. It sounds like someone is blasting the 80's station out of their car, while parked under the subway overpass. And the train is roaring by overhead."
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DESTIJL 115CD
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"First lady of winds and stars Samara Lubelski returns to her once and future label home for her sixth album, Wavelength, and the spheres harmonize at the news. Wavelength comprises a dozen new arrowed whispers, Samara's feathery touch on guitar and microphone now so at balance with the elements that the whole, her music and the air it enters, become inseparable. Don't be fooled by the persistent 'psych-folk' labels she gets - oh, they may be accurate as far as modern usage goes, and that scene is now as it was then, but Wavelength is an electric record through and through. Everything comes to life in light, the guitar speaking in radiant strums and felt-tip leads, her violin calling up everything that glows and grows in the dark. Funny how nature always seemed to work everything out fine on her own before we showed up, huh?"
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DESTIJL 115LP
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LP version. "First lady of winds and stars Samara Lubelski returns to her once and future label home for her sixth album, Wavelength, and the spheres harmonize at the news. Wavelength comprises a dozen new arrowed whispers, Samara's feathery touch on guitar and microphone now so at balance with the elements that the whole, her music and the air it enters, become inseparable. Don't be fooled by the persistent 'psych-folk' labels she gets - oh, they may be accurate as far as modern usage goes, and that scene is now as it was then, but Wavelength is an electric record through and through. Everything comes to life in light, the guitar speaking in radiant strums and felt-tip leads, her violin calling up everything that glows and grows in the dark. Funny how nature always seemed to work everything out fine on her own before we showed up, huh?"
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DESTIJL 114CD
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"Hey kid, need a lift? Like, right up off the ground? Spill into Atmosphere is the freshest whitecap in the crashing-upward wave known as Wet Hair, the Midwestern duo-cum-trio that's been holding it down for years as a multi-stop repeat-shop-'n-hop psych-pop pin-drop right there in the dead center of everything and/or nothing, Iowa City. The Wet Hair discography having spired itself to a respectable vantage - shared releases with such powers as Rene Hell, Naked on the Vague and Peaking Lights, both via frontmensch Shawn Reed's Night People imprint and others - Spill into Atmosphere becomes the band's second full-length with De Stijl. There is motion here, oh yeah - circling swirls of lighter-than-air energy, born aloft on propellers of foam yet anchored to earth with thunder-clap rhythms and Reed's heady bellow. Spill into Atmosphere gives you that feeling you had when you finally mastered the controls on your hovercraft: You're both in it and above it."
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DESTIJL 114LP
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LP version. "Hey kid, need a lift? Like, right up off the ground? Spill into Atmosphere is the freshest whitecap in the crashing-upward wave known as Wet Hair, the Midwestern duo-cum-trio that's been holding it down for years as a multi-stop repeat-shop-'n-hop psych-pop pin-drop right there in the dead center of everything and/or nothing, Iowa City. The Wet Hair discography having spired itself to a respectable vantage - shared releases with such powers as Rene Hell, Naked on the Vague and Peaking Lights, both via frontmensch Shawn Reed's Night People imprint and others - Spill into Atmosphere becomes the band's second full-length with De Stijl. There is motion here, oh yeah - circling swirls of lighter-than-air energy, born aloft on propellers of foam yet anchored to earth with thunder-clap rhythms and Reed's heady bellow. Spill into Atmosphere gives you that feeling you had when you finally mastered the controls on your hovercraft: You're both in it and above it."
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DESTIJL 099EP
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"Tashi Wada is a San Francisco-based composer and performer whose recent work focuses on sound perception as a basis for direct modes of listening. His work has been performed throughout the United States and Europe, and for several years now he has performed alongside his father, Yoshi Wada. Gradient is two sustained tones, a fourth apart, positioned along a wall, one at each end. The string player produces a very slow glissando from one pitch to the other while physically moving from one pitch to the other -- in other words, the string player moves so that pitch distance coincides with spatial distance. The two possible directions form a sculpture-like presence shifting through all of the blue notes. Harry Partch often worked with this type of harmony, so Tashi and Marc Sabat used one of his adapted violas for the recording."
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DESTIJL 098CD
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"EARTH is a 2009 silent film by Ho Tzu Nyen, one of Singapore's foremost artists. The visually arresting film has been live-soundtracked by a number of artists (including Oren Ambarchi) in several locales, and after Black to Comm, a.k.a. Marc Richter's accompaniment at Berlin's Asian Film Festival and the Unsound Festival in Krakow (both in 2010), he decided to commit it to record. In Marc's own words: 'Most of the music was composed under the influence of heavy pain killers while recovering from a broken leg. The music (like the film) is about slowness and decay, states of unconsciousness, sleeping and waking up, dying and being reborn. The film basically is a post-apocalyptic collage based on paintings by classical European painters (Caravaggio, Delacroix, Rembrandt, Gericault) -- the music tries to translate that concept employing similar collage-based sampling techniques using loops made from vintage vinyl and shellac records combined with acoustic and electronic instrumentation and voice.' Richter's already formidable expressive power stretches over all of EARTH. Reflecting the countless cyclical forces that make up, oh, more or less everything we know and are, the music on EARTH is bracing, lovely, bustling and still, and at times bittersweet, a commingling of sensations and emotions that can't be neatly separated from one another. (EARTHis complex, as you know.) Guests on EARTHinclude David Aird, a.k.a Vindicatrix (on the Mordant Music label), contributing startling vocal work; Renate Nikolaus on an array of instruments and noise devices; Rutger Zuydervelt (singing bowls); and Christopher Kline (singing saw). EARTH is Black to Comm's seventh album and his debut for De Stijl, following the acclaimed Alphabet 1968 (on Type) and last year's vinyl-only collaboration with Mike Kelley of Destroy All Monsters (on the En/Of label)."
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DESTIJL 098LP
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LP version, with mp3 download.
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DESTIJL 097CD
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"At some point all great explorers, from Amundsen to Kishan Singh Rawat, come to an opening up and cast their minds across a big space. A clearing, a promontory, a look out from a place no one's been before. Jakob Olausson ventured deep on Moonlight Farm, his debut for De Stijl in the winter of 2005. His singular expression returns on Morning and Sunrise, an explorer's codex, a gaze through to what's more important and less seen. The path yet traveled and the sun arcing over it. Morning and Sunrise is a different record from Moonlight Farm. Neither 'progression' nor the preferred 'natural progression' describe how. There is more electric guitar and it really whisks at your earbones, the playing is beautiful. Jakob's singing glows more. It gives light and shows love as it reassures, makes no false promises, says: You can be understood. Honest as the elements, whether you count four or 118. Words like 'loner' will be hung on Morning and Sunrise, and that's okay, we associate clarity this potent with solitude. And this could be the most lucid psychedelic record ever, morning is just so clear, and anyway, it's not really loner, because you are there all along. Don't we all just want to know how the next person gets along? Come out into the morning and see."
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DESTIJL 097LP
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LP version. "At some point all great explorers, from Amundsen to Kishan Singh Rawat, come to an opening up and cast their minds across a big space. A clearing, a promontory, a look out from a place no one's been before. Jakob Olausson ventured deep on Moonlight Farm, his debut for De Stijl in the winter of 2005. His singular expression returns on Morning and Sunrise, an explorer's codex, a gaze through to what's more important and less seen. The path yet traveled and the sun arcing over it. Morning and Sunrise is a different record from Moonlight Farm. Neither 'progression' nor the preferred 'natural progression' describe how. There is more electric guitar and it really whisks at your earbones, the playing is beautiful. Jakob's singing glows more. It gives light and shows love as it reassures, makes no false promises, says: You can be understood. Honest as the elements, whether you count four or 118. Words like 'loner' will be hung on Morning and Sunrise, and that's okay, we associate clarity this potent with solitude. And this could be the most lucid psychedelic record ever, morning is just so clear, and anyway, it's not really loner, because you are there all along. Don't we all just want to know how the next person gets along? Come out into the morning and see."
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DESTIJL 096LP
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"Duo John Olson and Nate Young, names commonly associated with the underworld regime's electronic noise kings Wolf Eyes, are runaways, yet their direction toward the primitive and battered blues has been somewhat inevitable. At first, it appears accidental that the same players who have produced countless screeching aural onslaughts are creating the subtly sensitive and focused meanderings of fleshy and intricate scales. On second thought, Olson and Young love to push the envelope, as well as themselves, and Lose Today shows traces of their ever-present and contorting thumbprint: raw elegance. Though perhaps the mere consideration of the majestic noise kings performing by note seems both perplexing and cumbersome, think again. Their methods are cunning and their outpour is monstrously elegiac. Lose Today wields the ethereal meditative power leftover from The Velvet Underground's Sweet Sister Ray epic bootleg. The result: a melodious somnolent grievance that leaves the listener to feast on a curiously endless and internal banquet. Young snarls and writhes in irritated spiraling pronouncements that trail off in regretful, pained fashion, producing the same eventual something-isn't-right that The Velvet Underground secured, but set aside to allow the Michigan basement bluesmen to borrow. Also, here is Young's virgin performance on bass, a venture that proves suiting as his sparse yet stable meanderings are the backbone to a jam lost in the arcane. At times the bass lines seem to be counting off the seconds until an eventual meltdown. Meanwhile, Olson wanders off on woodwinds, seemingly tangled in wavelengths, letting his own sounds guide him through a brassy chilling darkness. He follows scales--Indian scales, blues scales--though the subtlety of Olson's discipline fosters to an expansive intimacy, a nuance so massive his quips on flute and saxophone are the secret architects of Lose Today's meditation. Olson takes the spiraling mania inspired by the likes of The VU's Sweet Sister Ray lose-all jam and lets it blossom into a soundtrack for a secret think tank whose sole purpose is to maintain a shadowed fire."
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DESTIJL 089LP
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"Gnomic no-fi plunk, wheeze, rattle and moan courtesy of an unfortunately monikered (well...at least to English language readers anyway...it probably means something just lovely in Finnish...) supergroup comprised of Jonna Karanka aka Kuupuu, Laura Naukkarinen aka Lau Nau and Merja Kokkonen aka Islaja that draws from the seemingly eternal well of stoned detuned mischief that feeds the viaducts of the Finnish underground. The sheer density of acts positing variants on this same post-Amon Duul/Siloah-like freakout stylee there gives rise to questions of bandwagon hopping, but that's a discussion for another time. For the here and now, this first release of theirs is a choice manifestation of heavy-lidded third-mind acoustic weirdity that's as ungainly as it is mystically/chemically blasted."
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DESTIJL 090LP
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"Wet Hair have been living on the road and in the studio for the last few years and have made something special out of little more than synths, drums, flesh, blood, organs and ideas. They've traveled the world supporting the astral concepts of their music, which has henceforth had a subterranean visibility. In Vogue Spirit is their third LP and it is surely the one wherein all elements have gelled : the hazy, shifting experimental semi-thrust, the psychedelic production (notice we didn't use the word 'dub') and the effortless melodic flow contribute to the vibe that makes this sound infinitely more fresh than the forms explored therein. There is no seismic shift. Worlds don't collide. Silver apples don't grow on the moon. The contributions Wet Hair makes nudge a strange and subtle augmentation on the template, and that's all I'm content with asking of pop music."
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DESTIJL 091LP
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"Jeremy Freeze is a Memphis born songwriter who has spent the last few years in Columbia, Missouri playing and recording with Kim Sherman as Jerusalem and the Starbaskets. Before your preconceived notions of Missouri make things cloudy, consider the Black Artist Group, Screamin' Mee Mees, Drunks with Guns, Gene Clark and a whole lot of other shit that you don't know about get in the way. Lest there be other confusion, my friend Oliver, this 65-year-old dude from Kashmir, told me 'DOST' means 'brother man.' So basically, DOST is 'friend' but a more familiar way of the word. Just so happens that it's the phonetic same as 'dosed.' One crystalline thing herein is the jams. Freeze has reached that point where he's saying more by saying less and that's a level that many songwriters never reach. After a few years of playing gigs with Times New Viking, Wooden Wand and a short list of more or less limited releases, DOST is the band's first readily available release." Includes a full-color double-sided insert.
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DESTIJL 087EP
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"I'm the rabbit who believes in the magic (in a way that a tiny girl can inspire quiet men), and it's the magic that keeps me in the dark (in the larger view, of producing records pursuing 1). Electronics Music, 2). 'Music as Furniture' (Modernistic Music), 3). Music with experimental new vision.) These are Songs that are Those Things. And these are essentially the first of C S Yeh's efforts to be widely available, discounting songs from 2002, documented previously by WHAT THE...? records."
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DESTIJL 042LP
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2021 restock. "Charlie Nothing was the fractured-psyche pseudonym of author, father, horsekeeper, organic farmer, beekeeper, philosopher and clown Charles Martin Simon, inventor of the dingulator (guitar sculptures made out of the metal from American cars). Charlie's only visible offering to the record buying public was really anything but. Due to its rarity, The Psychedelic Saxophone of Charlie Nothing, issued by Takoma Records in 1967, has been a source of consternation for in-the-know types for years. Outside/Inside, the second and only other Charlie Nothing LP, originally issued by Everitt Enterprises, thematically follows with two sidelong flute-based instrumentals. Nowhere on wax will you find a more palpable preserved air of a real-time dropout scene than with these sides of Nothing. It is a wonder that these records circulated at all outside the vacuum in which they were created. Nothingness, a California existentiality looping back on itself, preserved and disseminated as evidence. There are indeed very few records like these. Fully authorized / fully legit."
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DESTIJL 082LP
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"We're releasing an LP by a band called Mother of Fire. Inspired by many things, I'm reminded of two main veins: a Krauty, rhythmic throb and a sort of gutterized/behead the prophet stance that once seemed to have run up and down the West Coast (which is where MOF have called home for some time). Both of these things are filtered thru post-Spacemen sensibilities and fueled with violin, bass and drum, all of which makes for a disjointed listen evoking things you've heard before in a completely surprising and fresh way." Spot varnish cover and insert.
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DESTIJL 081EP
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"Pens are three girls that take an old-school approach to a hum and riff and add their own who-gives-a-fuck homemade panache. Tuck yrself into bed with some warm milk and cookies and throw this new single on the platter in repeat mode. Nighty night! What more is there to say? It's better than most of the shit that gets the rave up."
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DESTIJL 074LP
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"Before Michael Yonkers would revise the history of recorded music with the clarion chords of Microminature Love he was in a band called Michael and the Mumbles and they made this self-titled LP in 1966. Upon immediate spins, their would-be debut comes off as a naive, teenage trip thru the typified garage band moves of this era. But repeated spins reveal a darkness beneath what some dullard might be deceived by as its crisp, winsome visage. It's only to a slightly less visible degree that the Mumbles LP has the same characteristics that would make Micro the singularly original piece that is; it's emotionally bleak themes, dissonant undercurrents, and recklessly wild performance. So, once again we have a Michael Yonkers LP that is going to turn the world upside down, make the college girls scream, and leave you wondering how many more times this can happen. Seriously, Pigeon Falls up here looks like a Riot on the Sunset Strip. Indulge yrself. PS. Michael and the Mumbles is on the king of all known formats (with a digital download coupon, natch). The mastertapes used herein are 45 yrs old and aside from the glitch on 'Cold Town' they sound amazing."
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DESTIJL 071CD
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"Where have all the good new British bands gone? Hello? Is there anyone out there? The answer is a pretty resounding 'nope'. Stop and think of a genuinely good new band you have heard in a year that is already way past half-done and I bet you ten Chomps you'll struggle. Then we saw Pens and it changed everything. Their set lasts about 14 minutes and the girls swap instruments in between tunes mainly because it appears none of them really know what they are doing. The whole thing is so swathed in static and reverb and shambolic about-to-fall-apartness that it's like watching that YouTube clip of the kid kicking through the granite wall and getting his ankle snapped in half: kind of bite-your-bottom-lip atrocious but kind of the best thing you have seen since ever. They also do a cover of 'Sex Beat' by the Gun Club that sounds like the Germs trying to be the Shangri- Las through a gauze of early K Records fuzz." -- Jammin' Johnson / VICE
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