V/A-WIENER BLUTRAUSCH, LP, 1979, AUSTRIA

I'll just give you a moment here to soak in that cover. The unreal quality of that image is matched by the cheerfully idiom obliterating nature of this Austrian compilation's contents, which veer wildly between prog, fusion and new wave, and seems to have triangulated a cherry spot pitched right in between these poles with the fascinating assortment of little known artists featured. Drahdiwaberl kick things off with a campily theatrical form of spacy rock that makes me think of Eroc covering Pink Floyd's Money, only to get prog funky in the rustic/Teutonic manner of Muck Groh. Over the rest of the A side, Mini-Sex propose equally unlikely shotgun weddings and make me think of the way New Wave forms got perverted in amusingly uncouth ways by Yugoslavian outfits like Zabranjeno Pusenje or Marjanov Cudni Zajec. Metzlutzkas Erben finish out the side by dancing an appealing fandango between high voltage fusion and the proggy satirical rock zaniness of later Checkpoint Charlie. On the flip, Chuzpe enjoyably tear through some early Ultravox-like art punk ramalamma with the nerviness they're named for, if not an equal measure of originality, Mordbuben AG proffer distinction-free back-to-basics rawk 'n' roll and Metzlutzkas Erben pop 'round for a second pass of absolutely wicked fusionoid antics.

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MARCOS VALLE-VENTO SUL, LP, 1972, BRAZIL

Together with folks like Arnaud Rodrigues and Azymuth, Marcos Valle was one of the premier exponents of advanced musical formulations coming off a related but distinct Samba/Bossa-influenced tip to the more well known Tropicalia crowd. Vento Sul was Valle's crowning achievement of this period and finds him being backed by prog rockers from the band O Terco. The exquisite end results are worthy of the dream-like cover imagery, taking the dewily lilting and hip swaying indigenous musical aspects of Valle's work and cross-pollinating them with the sorta fathoms deep acid rock exotica you'll hear in the grooves of a Traffic Sound or Malon album and the aching and keening emotional heft of prime era Franco Battiato when he's in song form mode.

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VAGTAZO HALOTTKEMEK-A HALAL MORESRE TANITASA (TEACH DEATH A LESSON), LP, 1988, HUNGARY

Playing what they describe as shamanic psychedelic hardcore, this utterly unique and slightly unreal Hungarian crew (whose name translates to The Galloping Coroners) unleash dense blasting waves of concentrated psychedelic otherness on their debut outing here and in so doing, anticipate a raft of later (and still ongoing) developments, particularly the psychedelia-as-collapsing-black-hole aesthetic of the crowd associated with Japan's PSF-label, with Hawkwind-like power drives imploding into fields of fierce abstracted motion.

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JUKKA TOLONEN-THE HOOK, LP, 1974, FINLAND

This was the third outing under his own steam from this one time leader of prog rockers Tasavallan Presidentti and unofficial guitarist for what was merely the greatest Finnish band of all time, namely Wigwam. With newly souped up production values and a four man horn section in tow, The Hook represents the moment when Tolonen really cemented his monster fusion guitarist status, his previous two outings (particularly the swooningly lovely Summer Games) having operated more in the folkloric-prog-with-jazz-trappings mode of Bo Hansson or Kebnekaise. With The Hook, it's clear that Tolonen had his sights set on the world stage and it's undeniably commanding work, with a fluid grandeur and air of mystery to it that suggests a mid-ground between Terje Rypdal, Placebo and Picchio Dal Pozzo.

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HARALD 'SACK' ZIEGLER-KENNEN SIE DEN ZIEGLER?, TAPE, 1993, GERMANY

Here's another disarming example of Ziegler's quizzical and faux naive shoebox universe courtesy once again of blog friend Roger. Unfurling in episodic and frequently bitty form, the Comelade-like tinker toy tinkle and pump organ wheezing bent of this stalwart German underground music operative's recently shared Zehn Meter Langes Regal Kippte Um tape continues apace here, only offset by some neurotically singleminded singing, with Ziegler working himself into a particular emotional lather over Barbie and Ken.

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EP-4-LINGUA FRANCA-1, LP, 1983, JAPAN

This crucial Mutant Funk crew evolved out of Vanity label minimal synthers R.N.A. Organism and offer up a seamless mix of polyrhythmic densities and polymorphous arrangements that varyingly nods in the direction of the 80's downtown NY axis via tautly concise Liquid Liquid grooves or the elaborately funky arrangements of Talking Heads on Speaking In Tongues, while elsewhere summoning some of those winningly disconsolate P.I.L.-damaged post Can-ism's that appeared during the NDW era on albums by Sticken-In, Phew and Czukay/Wobble/Liebezeit.
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RENATO ZERO-ZEROFOBIA, LP, 1977, ITALY

Patchy but occasionally insanely great disco absurdity with pronounced space disco tangents from this Jobriath-like character known for appearing onstage in a bird suit. This was sent to me by my old NY pal Tony a dog's age ago and I've mulled over the idea of posting it ever since, though the overt commercial angle of some of this dissuaded me before now. But then I listened to the cut La Trappola again last night and realized it'd be downright cruel to deprive kooks and aspiring hipsters the world over of such a mainline into the throbbing core essence of true blue cheese godhead. I'd be prepared to endorse this track from a hilltop with a megaphone if necessary. And I'm betting you will too, though It'll take the nasal equivalent of an enema to clear the phantom scent of amyl nitrate and sweat from your mental sensorium after a dip into this audio jacuzzi. And there is more of this sorta goodness strewn about elsewhere as on this thing as well, with Zero turning on some naked (and wonderful) Lucio Battisti emulation on "L'Ambulanza" and bursts of the most perfect synthetic Love Boat vibes imaginable on "Regina" for you aspiring Yacht Rockers with a hankering for deeper revelations.

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SEVERED HEAD IN A BAG-S/T, CDR, 2006 (RECORDED: EARLY 80'S), USA

Bootlegged from cassette and live sources by the cats behind the Dolor Del Estamago (formerly Stomach Ache) imprint, this fantastic and highly obscure early 80's slobbering free rock/free noise melee was brought to you courtesy of a loosely aggregated outfit led by Jon Wayne/3 Day Stubble nutter, future Medicine drummer and occasional Whitehouse associate Jim Goodall. Known (if at all) from having been documented in warts and all fashion on the notorious D.U.I. video comp of early 80's L.A. underground fare, a goodly bit of this sounds like a precursor to much of the detuned sludge rock that would become rife during the latter half of the decade via the likes of The Butthole Surfers or Crust on one end and labels like Amphetamine Reptile on the other; with the bemused nihilism and atonal caterwaul of Flipper being the best period touchstone for what's transpiring here.


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HARALD SACK ZIEGLER-ZEHN METER LANGES REGAL KIPPTE UM, TAPE, 1990, GERMANY

Following up on my recent post of his +10% Pustekuchen tape, here's more modestly scaled and whimsy sodden formulations from this longstanding naif mage and future member of folktronica operatives Sack Und Blumm. There's a tradition of this sorta thing within German underground music culture that extends from the the mercurial Neue Deutsche Welle electropop experimentation of Die Welttraumforscher and wends it's way forward to the weirder edges of the Cologne electronica axis via the likes of Schlammpeitziger. Smack dab in between those eras, Ziegler was imagining a candy coated and casio toned universe of cockamamie caprice, whose air of frivolity belies what a richly developed and unique vernacular it is that he's developed; indeed one that bears comparison with masters of the form like Pascal Comelade and Pierre Bastien. Blog friend Roger can be thanked once again for providing this treasure.

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TRIPOD JIMMIE-LONG WALK OFF A SHORT PIER, LP, 1982, USA

Formed by guitarist Tom Herman upon his exit from the early line-up of Pere Ubu and named in honor of a three legged pooch owned by one of the members, the musical propositions proffered here are not attempting to re-make the wheel ala Ubu, but taken on their own terms, Tripod Jimmie were a fierce and compelling proposition nevertheless, with a spare but garrulous garage-y attack offset by Herman's tensile guitar shards and twitchily yammering Girls-like vocalizing.

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HANIWA-CHAN, KANASHIBARI, LP, 1984, JAPAN

Just to set the stage with a round of maximum cognitive dissonance, this album initiates with a sphincter clenching Arena Rock gambit that would make Loverboy wince. Ah, but these high voltage Japanese oddballs are just setting you up for a fall. Down a rabbithole as it turns out, what with the sudden intrusion of three dimensional polka dotted electro-pop quirk of a sort that some of you might refer to as Zolo. It's but the first in a long and befuddling series of genius caliber rug-pulls from a group who can count both Chris Cutler and Henry Kaiser as worshipful adherents to their wild muse, both having at one time placed this LP in their top 10. Led by percussionist, composer and visionary Kiyohiko Senba, Haniwa-Chan played an alternate and smaller scale iteration of the sort of music he composed on a mass scale with his orchestra-sized ensemble Kiyohiko Senba And His Haniwa All-Stars (both posted on MS previously). And with tracks like Owannaino on here, Cutler and Kaiser's case is not a difficult one for someone to make. Spinning on a dime with pinprick accuracy and rubberized dimensionality, it's literally one of the most astonishing cuts I've ever heard; like some trans-dimensional equivalent of a Rube Goldberg device collapsed down into it's quadraphonic and holographic audio equivalent only to be suddenly ramrodded by an out-of-the-blue intrusion of charging Beetle Juice-like Danny Elfman orchestral bombast before finally reconstituting Rube for another round of airborne whirligig motion. Astonishing and intensely disciplined displays like this are just par for the course with this crew though; arbiters of that rarified realm of uber-weirdness that only fellow 80's Japanese outfits like After Dinner, Wha Ha Ha and Killing Time were plying, though for all the overt displays of compositional outlandishness, there's plenty of winsome cuteness to offset it all in neon pink air quotes. You can thank an anonymous blog friend for enriching your life with this treasure. Go grapple with this one and get back to me, folks...

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***NOTE: THERE'S A MIRRORED MEDIAFIRE LINK IN THE COMMENT FIELD*** 

TOTEM-CORRUPCION, LP, 1973, URUGUAY

Alternately thundering like badasses or lilting like latin lovers, this psych/prog gem comes out of one of the Latin American 70's scenes that few are yet hepped to. This was Totem's third, final and most developed album and and the luxuriant atmosphere on it is thick with drama. With wailing sax and weaving flutes to the fore on most cuts, their angle of approach here could be triangulated between Peru's Traffic Sound and Argentina's Malon and Bubu. Heady company indeed, but then this album's a motherfucker.

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DILEDADAFISH-MOTHBALL, CD, 1991, SWITZERLAND

Spluttery and spare, the output of this obscure Swiss crew (featured on the V/A-Point Of Yucca CD that I posted with my last round) intriguingly sways between several naif poles, notably those that temper their synthetic plink-plonk melodic sense with a counterweight of moody sound washes ala Steve Thomsen, Sebastian Gandera, Famlende Forsok and Jac Berrocal circa his Nato label output. As was the case with the Point Of Yucca CD, this is featured here courtesy of blog friend Roger.

NOTE: Links removed at the request of the label

HAL GALPER-THE GUERRILLA BAND, LP, 1973, USA

Monster caliber fusion from this hunched over ivory tickler and his crack crew, which includes drummer Don Alias and a very early outing from the Brecker Bros on horns, predating their much slicker inclinations on late 70's fusion hits. This kicks off squarely in the mode of Nucleus circa Solar Plexus, with half-speed horn flows elegantly rippling across a racing groove undercurrent and repeatedly returns to this rich well on subsequent tracks in a manner simpatico with Belgians jazz rockers like Placebo and Solis Lacus, though tempered by an occasional smoky lounge groove vibe akin to The Lyman Woodard Organization.
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SCULPTRESS-THIS PHRASE APPEALS TO YOU, CDR, 2005, UK

Drifting in and out of focus on striated layers of twinkling and droning esoterica, This Phrase Appeals To You is another evocative stab at the eternal cosmic sublime from the sector of the UK freak folk scene aligned with the likes of Ben Reynolds and Ashtray Navigations' Phil Todd; this particular project being spearheaded by their regular associate Andy Jarvis and featuring his sis Mikarla on vocals. Under the banner of Sculptress, this crew unfurl bleary rounds of horsehair scrape and harmonium wheeze offset by spare improvisational tactics, the sum total carrying more than a little whiff of 70's Swedish underground musical traditions.

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