Reflections #5
Gastr Del Sol, Woody Guthrie, Smiling Face, Sprain
Finally a post without any bands with “horse” in the name.
Upgrade & Afterlife > Gastr Del Sol * Drag City 1996
Upgrade & Afterlife feels like an analog chop and screw job through pop music’s past, creating its future. And that was nearly 30 years ago. Another legend linked to the Louisville/Chicago post-rock boom of the 90s. Discovering, or rather finally taking the time to go back and listen to Gastr Del Sol is disorienting. The music is so timeless; I feel I need to revise my entire understanding of the music landscape of the past several decades to fully assess their influence. I wrongly believed this blend of acoustic instruments, noise, studio manipulation, and samples only just found its footing in recent years. Clearly I’m in desperate need of catching up. Allow me then to introduce the uninitiated like myself to Upgrade & Afterlife. Here, drones of piercing squeals lay atop piano ballads. Loops dissolve with delay. Channel surfing becomes a nightmare. Not to mention David Grubbs’ and Jim O’Rourke’s free-form guitar playing. Both Grubbs and O’Rourke are names I’ve been familiar with for several years now, but always pushed back for later listens. What a shame. I debated whether or not to admit to this blindsight in fear of losing credibility as some sort of armchair expert. While I’m revising my mental map of music, I’m beginning to wonder, would an earlier discovery of Gastr Del Sol have inspired a revision of my own life?
I think I should continue here. I mean I’ve always been drawn to progressive and post-rock, but so much of the post-rock I was exposed to growing up and in college were Explosions in the Sky, “crescendo-core” rip offs (I was just reminded of this label today and, wow, how fitting it is). Every song sounded the same: the emotions felt melodramatic, the rises and falls became predictable, the climax-synchronized flood lights from within a kickdrum were as cringeworthy as they were blinding on a diy stage. I hate to hate on anyone’s cup of tea, especially stuff from 10 years ago or so, but you can’t blame me for avoiding most things labeled “post-rock” at the time. Like I had heard Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven and kinda thought that was it. It wasn’t until a few years ago when I realized bands I actually liked, like Slint, Yo La Tengo, Neu, and Stereolab, could fall under that category. I began to take it more seriously, exploring Mogwai and Bark Psychosis. Since then, I’ve come to love all the greats, Do Make Say Think, Tortoise, I’ll even admit that I like some Godspeed now. Recently I went back and listened to Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden. More and more I find the music I make and listen to fits a post-rock name. So, as with so many phases of my life, my rejection of something has horseshoed its way back to the origin and now the villain has become the hero. Just don’t do the floodlights again.
And that’s why I didn’t know Gastr Del Sol, ok?
My Dusty Road > Woody Guthrie * 2009 Rounder Records
https://www.woodyguthrie.org/merchandise/mydustyroad.htm
This box set was released from lost masters recovered in 2003. The set consists of 4 discs, Woody’s “Greatest” Hits; Woody’s Roots; Woody the Agitator; and Woody, Cisco, and Sonny Jam the Blues, Hollers, and Dances. The box set is worth listening to, even if you think you know Woody. As with most recovered material compilations, these tracks are raw and offer some alternate takes of the standards; see “This Land is Your Land” and its inclusion of the missing original fourth verse; spoiler: it went missing because of its anti-private property sentiment, not exactly American schoolhouse material. Anyway, sprinkled throughout, Guthrie is backed up by Cisco Houston on guitar/harmony vocals and Sonny Terry on harmonica. The charm of the set is the uninhibited spirit of it all. Sometimes Guthrie and Houston sing different words, obviously telling these stories from memory without any rigidity. It’s on the last disc where, as the title suggests, the three of them let loose into some instrumental jams. Terry blasts through harmonica riffs while Guthrie and Houston pick and sing. “Raincrow Bill” is a harmonica battle sketch. “Guitar Breakdown” is an all out picking fest. It’s always nice to revisit the masters, especially in these alternative performances. And judging by Spotify’s streams, this album is his most popular. Too bad the most popular version of “This Land” isn't from the collection. Could it be the algorithm burying radical thought or Americans choosing to keep a blind eye turned? Either way, you’d think Spotify would be proud to promote the absolution of private property.
Cracked Door Live > Smiling Face * 2022 Aggressively Uninterested
Yeah, you could say this album rips. It’s incendiary. The heavy psych-hardcore of Smiling Face melts your face. Ok, clichés out of the way, I’ve been getting through my droning computer hours with this live performance. The sound is so fuzz-f*cked I wonder how many speakers were harmed in the making of this record. Despite that, the drums are big and clear, the vocals are right where they need to be, and the band tears through my headphones effortlessly. With Zach Morris on guitar, Brad Moore on bass, and Evan Crouse on drums, the band continuously moves through slow, stoner psych riffs into fast, aggressive, and completely blown out hardcore. They have the footage of the live performance available on VHS (or in the CD/DVD combo) for the ultimate experience. But Cracked Door Live stands on its own without the gimmicks. Fun stuff!
As Lost Through Collision > Sprain * 2020
Sprain slips in and out of whispered ASMR territory and into realms of noise, punk, and emo. While Chat Pile feels like a synthesized alloy, As Lost Through Collision is harvested from an organic and dark ether. A punkish doom. A Gen Z Noir. The heavy 10 minute sludge in “Everything” could compete with the likes of Mizmor, OM, and SunnO))). They’ve taken slowcore to its logical end, not content to simply whisper their way through arpeggiations. Sprain is almost more like a doom-rock band as opposed to doom-metal. The lyrics fit somewhere between existential dread of a hum-drum working life and an autopsy of God. A midnight murderer becomes Christ, sparing the sleeping victim another 10 hour shift in “Slant.” Lambs are relieved by the slaughter and “life is an ant in the palm of time’s cruel hand” in “Worship House.” I would be remiss not to mention the Slint influence here. The connection seems clear but it’s earned and never cheap. Lyrics are spoken as often as they are sung. Screams are let loose over squealing harmonics and dissonant high notes. It really does hold a similar sucking of light, a wandering blind, that Spiderland captured so well. Sprain is carrying a torch for a new generation of heavy punks.