The Lacking Permanence

Subtle expressions of singing strings from a guitar and pedal steel, mixed with ambient sounds and other sources to make the soundtrack for the most intense relaxation you’ve had in a while.

One of the kingpins of dub easily proves his worth on this retrospective covering the first four decades of UK producer Mad Professor and his deep undulating grooves, universal sounds that are neither fresh nor dated, but eternal.

“Batu means ‘rock’ in Malay” said the photographer, for the third time in a week. The sous-chef ignored the comment, also for the third time, and tried squinting in the darkness at the cribbage board. They had been wise enough to purchase a glow-in-the-dark deck after all these midnight assignments, but had yet to extend their ingenuity to the board. Tapping a foot in irritation, they knocked over the thermos full of hot cocoa set on the steps, and it would have rolled down several long flights of guano-covered stairs had it not been stopped by the tandem bike’s wheel leaning against the statue’s pedestal. Above them, Lord Murugan stared stonily into the dark.

When your arrangements are razor-sharp, your moods mercurial and psychedelic, and your melodies constantly off-kilter, you’re probably a Dutch band like Certain Animals.

Something’s in the water Down Under; there’s a veritable rainbow of guitar-forward fuzziness emanating from the land, and Bananagun is the kind that has a loose-limbed ability to pivot from genuine ‘60s jingleisms into full-out afrobeat.

If I could use synesthesia to describe Woods’ music, I would say it sounds like sparkling pastel day-go colors.

There’s no detail too small or scar too deep for Eels to pick up and examine in a wry musical light.

Dutch indie rock psychedelic bands often stand out from their UK or US counterparts because they are just too good at the tropes. It’s like they took the test and got 110%, and there wasn’t even extra credit.

Bootsy lays out the not-so-secret ingredient in funk right there in the title, and then gives you a giant plate and puts you at the head of the line of this 70-minute buffet of lose-you-inhibitions-and-dig-in variations on the recipe.

I haven’t seen the word skronk bandied about lately, it feels good to bring it out again. The Free Radicals are rhythmic, abrasive, definitely political, but most of all extra funky and pure of heart.