25 Favorite Releases of 2019

In the spirit of the season, I wanted to share some of my favorite releases of the year. Such a brooding year for music, with some really strong aesthetic and political statements and boundary-pushing uses of both guitars and electronics, suggesting many exciting changes on their way in the next decade. Obviously this isn’t meant to be exhaustive or authoritative; just some personal highlights. Quite a few of these are giant major label releases, so I’ll be taking down those download links quickly or leaving them off accordingly. Let me know if links are broken. Happy new year!

Previously: 2018 | 2017 | 2016 | 2015

A.C. Marias – One Of Our Girls, 1989
buy / download
The B-52’s – Cosmic Thing, 1989
buy / download
The Blue Nile – Hats, 1989
buy / download
The Cure – Disintegration, 1989
buy
De La Soul – 3 Feet High And Rising, 1989
buy
dip in the pool – Retinae, 1989
download
Forrest Fang – The Wolf At The Ruins, 1989
buy / download
Galaxie 500 – On Fire, 1989
buy
Harry Case – In A Mood, 1989
download
The Hilliard Ensemble – Pérotin, 1989
buy / download
Haruomi Hosono – Omni Sight Seeing, 1989
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Inner City – Paradise, 1989
buy
Janet Jackson – Rhythm Nation 1814, 1989
buy
Joan Bibiloni – Born, 1989
buy / download
Julee Cruise – Floating Into The Night, 1989
buy
Kate Bush – The Sensual World, 1989
buy
Nine Inch Nails – Pretty Hate Machine, 1989
buy
Nirvana – Bleach, 1989
buy
Pauline Oliveros, Stuart Dempster & Panaiotis – Deep Listening, 1989
buy / download
Piero Milesi & Daniel Bacalov – La Camera Astratta, 1989
buy / download
Pixies – Doolittle, 1989
buy
Ryuichi Sakamoto – Beauty, 1989
buy
Soul II Soul – Club Classics Vol. One, 1989
buy
The Stone Roses – The Stone Roses, 1989
buy
Woo – It’s Cosy Inside, 1989
buy / download

[Mix for NTS Radio] Getting Warmer Episode 39

Here’s my most recent mix for NTS Radio, in which I’m still on an autumnal tip. Psychy acoustic folk, dreamy shoegaze, and a really gorgeous, tears-inducing children’s choir rendition of a song from my childhood favorite, Watership Down. I hope you like it, and that you’re staying warm! You can download an mp3 version here.

Tracklist:
1. Woo – Fanfare
2. Eloy – Horizons
3. A.C. Marias – Looks Like
4. Maxine Funke – Make That Dream
5. April Stevens & Nino Tempo – You’ll Be Needing Me Baby
6. Esther & Abi Ofarim – Every Night
7. Woo – When You Find Your Love
8. Kyu Sakamoto – 上を向いて歩こう
9. Hydroplane – Wurlitzer Jukebox
10. Judee Sill – Jesus Was A Cross Maker
11. Colin Blunstone – Misty Roses
12. The Small Choir Of St. Brandon’s School – Bright Eyes
13. Ichiko Hashimato – A Stranger In Paradise
14. Cocteau Twins – Round
15. Linda Cohen – Madman Samba
16. Karen H. Oznick – I Miss You
17. Scribble – Mother Of Pearl

Scribble – So Far, 1985

Scribble was a short-lived project of Australian musician and songwriter Johanna Pigott, formerly of punk band XL Capris. Acting as lead vocalist, guitarist, pianist, keyboardist, songwriter, and producer, Pigott recruited her partner Todd Hunter for bass and keyboards, as well as a slew of session musicians. She eventually dissolved Scribble to focus more on her writing, and went on to rack up many songwriting and screenwriting credits, including Keith Urban’s first single, “Only You,” which is unsurprising given how good it is (also he looks confusingly hot in this admittedly blurry video? I regret none of these opinions). Though Scribble has garnered a little bit of cult interest, it never received much critical acclaim that I would argue this record most certainly deserves.

Prim, elegant sophisti-pop tinged with post punk and new wave. Opener “It’s Blue” is such a pleasurable, effortless piece of guitar pop that it feels like taking a hot bath and is a big part of why I’ve had this record on repeat for the past few weeks. Elsewhere, find Pigott’s opiated, smoky, slow-jazz take on “The Lady Is A Tramp,” bombastic brassy new wave on “Adaptability,” and an absolutely sublime cover of Roxy Music’s “Mother Of Pearl,” which, despite being eight minutes long, always makes me wish it were longer. An ideal wintertime record that feels more and more like a favorite sweater with each listen. Thank you Flo for bringing me here via this excellent mix :}

download

Marine Girls – Beach Party, 1981

An old–really old–favorite for me. Super bare bones, unadorned post punk pop recorded in a garden shed. Largely just guitar and vocals, with the odd bit of hand percussion, so it’s loose, brusque, and lo-fi. Despite the title, the airiness, and the occasional bird sounds, these are songs of heartbreak and longing, but delivered with a deadpan that somehow manages to be cynically blasé and willfully naive at the same time. Dazed and unassuming in a way that will certainly get under your skin if you give it the chance. Despite (what I assume was) some deliberate irony in titling such an understated and unblinking record Beach Party, I would argue that you could successfully soundtrack a beach party with this, as long as it’s a meandering, low-key kind of party, maybe with a bonfire, but definitely no volleyball or solo cups.

Marine Girls was originally comprised of sixth form school friends Gina Hartman and Tracey Thorn, though by the time they released their debut Beach Party, they had expanded to include Jane Fox on bass and her younger sister Alice on percussion. They went on to release two more records before disbanding to work on separate projects–most notably, Tracey Thorn went on to find more critical success as one half of sophisti-pop darlings Everything But The Girl. For fans of Young Marble Giants, or even Dolly Mixture (friendly reminder how good that record is).

buy / download

[Interview] Mark Renner

Mark Renner first encountered punk as a teenager in Upperco, a country town in rural Maryland. Growing up on his family farm, he became a young acolyte of the British exports hitting not-so-distant Baltimore record store shelves in the late 70s, and was baited by an area musician-wanted ad declaring Ultravox a primary touchstone. This nascent band and a pair of other group experiments flamed out, and in their ashes Renner began recording independently around 1983 with a portable 4-track, electric guitar, and classic Casio CZ101 synthesizer. Aside from John Foxx-era Ultravox, Renner’s process was inspired by the period’s electronic pioneers venturing into deeper, romantic pop pastures, like Bill Nelson and The Associates. Apart from his writing, Renner explored music as a complement to visual language: many of the dream-like instrumental passages presented across Few Traces were originally implemented as sound elements for exhibitions of his paintings. Compiled three decades after the music was originally put to tape, Few Traces collects Mark Renner’s early music but strives not to simplify or reframe it. Mark is still an active musician and painter. The instrumental explorations remain on par with the great ambient adventurers of the period (Brian Eno, Harold Budd, Roedelius), while the vocal and guitar-centric songs transverse similar terrains to contemporaries like Cocteau Twins, The Chills, and The Feelies. You can purchase the compilation via RVNG Intl here.

Interview by JD Walsh (Shy Layers)

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Hey Mark.

Hey JD, where are you calling from?

Atlanta, where my home studio is. You said you’d booked some recording time in the studio the last few days, is that still what you’re up to?

Yeah, it’s an ongoing project. I started back in Baltimore in the spring of last year, and then I recorded out in the middle of a field in a trailer this summer, went to Glasgow in November, and then back again to northern Texas, where I am now. The great thing about this setup is that I can enlist the help of other musicians: a few other guitarists, a fellow by the name of Jared Flynn in Baltimore, and Julius Fischer, who’s a music minister in a Baltimore church. He’s a great arranger and pianist, and he plays guitar and saxophone and a few other instruments. Then in Glasgow I got to work with Malcolm Lindsay, who does film soundtracks and composes for orchestra and opera, so I had a wonderful experience reconfiguring and reworking with him. He discarded just about everything from the demos I gave him, just using the structures of the songs.

And after your work’s been arranged and rearranged by collaborators, it must be thrilling to get it back and see what they’ve brought to it.

It’s a great honor to have people even listen to your work, but to have them rethink it without disturbing your original framework, that’s really a pleasure, particularly with Malcolm. He’s a very gifted individual.

You said you had an art studio as well and you work on both—do you find it’s easy to work on music and art simultaneously, or do you need to immerse yourself in one or the other?

Years ago somebody asked me about this. At the time it was like having a jealous wife—if you spend too much time working on one thing, you feel a sense of guilt for neglecting the other. I always take a sketchbook and a travelogue with me everywhere, and I’m the same way musically, so there’s a pull and tug. Luckily now I can do both full-time. I have a visual exhibition of my paintings that I’m working on right now for the end of June, and that’s a looming deadline. The override would probably be my visual work, because I’ve been drawing since I was two or three, my mother told me, and because I approach music in a similar manner as I do color and impression. In the same way as with sketchbooks, I use an app on my phone to jot down song ideas. In the late 80s and early 90s I would call my house and sing an idea over the answering machine. (laughs) I also had one of those little—I don’t know how old you are, if you remember microcassettes? Those were good for that. I don’t know if you had a chance to listen to anything off the last few recordings—

I did.

There are quite a few elegies on Goldenacre. There’s a song called “At The Far Side of the Sea,” which is a true story about two of my high school friends. The three of us made all these nomadic, romantic plans to travel adventurously, build boats and sail around the world, but one of them kind of spiraled downward from the time we graduated high school until he eventually took his own life. He went out on his front lawn and set himself on fire. I don’t know if knowing that makes it easier to relate to the lyrics, or if it accurately did justice to him. At this age a lot of the lyrics I write are intended to be elegies to people I’ve known who have touched me. There are three or four of them on Goldenacre, a couple on Enduring The Going Hence, and the album I’m currently recording has quite a few as well.

When you have something as vivid as that, do the words exist before there’s a piece of music set to it? What’s your process when turning something on the page into the song?

Some visual artists dream their work. Most of my visual work comes from my imagination, but some are things that I come in contact with visually. One of my favorite things is hearing people express themselves, like in a museum or out in the world. I love dropping vocal sound bites into instrumental pieces. You can extract something deeply profound or poetic from things you picked up in conversation. Sometimes it’s a turn of phrase that might be vanishing from our cultural vocabulary. When it was raining, my grandfather used to say, “It’s not fit for man or beast out there.”

Right, I do the same thing, taking notes and phrases like that. But I normally start with a piece of music and try to retrofit lyrics over the melody. I’m interested in what it’s like to approach it the opposite way, starting with something that exists on the page, divorced from a musical context.

Sometimes you’re fortunate to be given a really good melody, and you’re fortunate enough to have the microcassette or the phone next to you so you can put it down. I’ve wondered about musicians like Leonard Cohen, Brian Wilson, or Paddy McAloon of Prefab Sprout—such great song crafters, to be able to turn you any way they want with the melody or the structure of the song. If I had to get more analytical, I would say act quickly before your idea vanishes.

Yeah, it’s really hard to distill process down to a sound bite. But back to Few Traces, I was looking through the insert that comes in the LP, the text by Brandon Soderberg about The Lost Years exhibition—how it was a literal combination of visual art and music. Can you talk a little bit about that?

I don’t know if you’re familiar with Baltimore—being a port town, it has a harbor along the Potomac, with an older section of buildings that date from the 1800s, some even earlier. It was kind of a sailor’s paradise, an unloading point. Anyway, I had an opportunity to do an exhibition at a gallery there, and I think it was shortly after I had just gotten my first 4-track and was thinking about the idea of combining the two mediums. My knowledge of the art world wasn’t very broad at the time, which was helpful because I wasn’t intimidated. (laughs) At the time the Walkman cassette player was everywhere, and I thought, what if rather than blasting the music in the gallery I just made it portable so people could drop it in a Walkman and walk around and view the work? That’s why the pieces from The Lost Years were meant to be brief, because you didn’t want to have to stand in front of the piece for too long, waiting for something that would never happen and might not be able to deliver.

So it wasn’t one piece of music per painting? They were free to look at the different paintings with whatever was on the Walkman at the time?

Yeah. Some of the titles overlapped, but it didn’t have to be strictly adhered to song-by-painting. There was a freedom to traverse the gallery.

That sounds like a fun process. Sound in a gallery is tough, and it gets tougher if you want to localize sound so there can be multiple elements happening at the same time, so I thought that was a clever solution. With regards to Few Traces, how does it feel to see so many years of work in one collection? Do you feel as if it gives you perspective, to see it all in one place?

The reception has been great and overwhelming. As an artist, you know that there’s no greater honor than to have someone invest in your work, to be able to understand it. I think Jean Cocteau said he wanted “not to be marveled at but to be believed.” One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in the process is to take care of your archives! A lot of things escaped this particular package that must still exist somewhere, but I haven’t been able to track them down. A lot of those pieces I haven’t heard in many years, not since they were mastered. Some of them were recorded on a 4-track cassette recorder without compression, so they have an ancient archeological charm to it. (laughs) Matt was very patient, and he really extended himself waiting for me to get it all together. I made a few different trips back to Baltimore to sort through all the work—I had a house there, so I wanted to see if I could locate some of the recordings, and I contacted a few people I used to know to locate videotapes. Mostly I wasn’t successful. What Matt put together mirrors what survived. It’s a great honor, to see that stuff that I sat in a little row house and composed at my kitchen table and never thought it would be of much interest to anyone. Hopefully it can be encouraging to someone too, now that even better, more affordable technology is available—that nothing should stop you from trying.

I completely agree, it’s wonderful. I’ve seen this in the video world as well. In some cases the so-called professionals have some fears, like, “Here comes everybody with their cheap technology, invading our precious space,” but I sort of welcome it. If there’s an easier, more obtainable way for someone to do something creative, I say go for it.

Right, you can’t really have an elitist attitude about it. It’s funny, sometimes I’ll listen to something and think, “Man, I spent two hours trying to play that by hand, and now you can program it into a sequencer so quickly…” (laughs)

Right, and quantize everything, ha! Well, thank you very, very much—I’m such a fan, and I love the collection. I’m excited to see your new work, and I love your visual work as well, so good luck on the exhibition coming up!

That means a lot, thank you.

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Thanks to Mark Renner, JD Walsh, Matt Werth, Brandon Sanchez, and RVNG Intl.
for facilitating this interview. Text has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Geoffrey Landers – Many Hands Make Light, 1987

Guest post by Jonny Garciamons (NTS)

Many Hands Make Light, the last of four releases from the elusive Cauhaus Records, is an un-genrefiable conclusion to the mysterious solo discography of American artist Geoffrey Landers. With design appearing to be an independent family affair–jacket layout and cover artwork done by Kelley Jo and Benjamin Landers respectively–the 8-track album was released exclusively on CD in 1987. Written and recorded solely by Geoffrey Landers during what seems to have been the end of the Cauhaus era, this is the only of his three albums to credit no other collaborative efforts.

Being heavily involved in the Denver industrial/punk/new wave scene, Landers was inspired to create a recording studio “available to artists regardless of their financial circumstances.” He thus opened The Packing House Studio in 1981 at the site of a former slaughterhouse in the Denver stockyards. The analog 8-track recording facility was active until 1984, with the studio releasing recordings from only a few credited artists and groups, most notably Allen Ginsberg. It was during this time that Landers released his first two records, Habitual Features & The Ever Decimal Pulse, as well as his only single, a 7” titled Breedlove.

Cauhaus Records, Landers’s only label, was an “entertainment subsidiary” of Local Anesthetic Records. They appear to be the only two labels to have released music recorded at The Packing House, aside from a small cassette-only label named Endemic Music. Landers is credited with mixing on one of the releases on Local Anesthetic’s releases, which suggests that Landers might have mixed for Local Anesthetic in exchange for production and handling of his imprint Cauhaus (the name of which seems like a nod to the studio’s slaughterhouse history).

The silent years in Geoffrey’s discography span from 1984 to 1987 — with ’84 being the year in which output from the both The Packing House and Local Anesthetic seem to die down. This leaves me wondering what happened in those three years to prompt a final release from such a unique musical trajectory. Was this his final go at production after years running The Packing House? Does this release serve as a demo compilation of tracks from the studio’s golden era? Did this record take three years to make? Why was it only released on CD only? The questions are infinite, but the result is truly a masterpiece.

New wave guitars, voice pads, resonant post-punk bass lines, hip swingin’ drum loops–this thing has it all. The stand-out should-have-been-pop-hits come in “Camella” & “Say You’ll Say So,” the former of which is a unique DJ-friendly new wave infused boogie jam with a HUGE snare drum hit sure to light up any day party. The nostalgic feeling induced by tracks “Body Angel,” “The Alluring Pause,” “1 by 1,” and “Carry Me Off” lead me to believe that Many Hands Make Light is in some way a tribute to the golden years of The Packing House, with the title serving as a humble thank you and tribute to all the many hands making light at the studio and label.

A very special thank you goes out to Flo for introducing me to Geoffrey’s music earlier this year.

“It takes time, I — I know that you know I’ll get to you”

Note that while this is long out of “print,” Music From Memory is about to release a compilation of Landers’s work which includes most of the tracks from Many Hands Make Light, and, if the track they’ve previewed on YouTube is any indication, features some gorgeous remastering. With the hope that you’ll pre-order the compilation, I’ll be removing this mp3 download link after a few days.

buy the compilation

Interior – Interior, 1982

A classic. Interior was first released on Yen Records, then later issued on Windham Hill with two of the more post-punky tracks omitted, and the addition of the excellent “Hot Beach.” Confusingly, both the artist and album title are written as “Interiors” in several of the later pressings, and when you try to purchase the mp3s on Amazon it presents you with an unrelated album by “The Interiors.” Because of the un-googleability of the album title, I’m not actually sure if there’s a current version for sale anywhere–please let me know if you know. The version you can download here includes all tracks from both the Yen and Windham Hill releases. As an aside, the group’s lineup includes Toshifumi Hinata‘s brother, Daisuke Hinata.

Having said all that, holy cow, whadda record. This seems to have one of the stronger cult followings of the Yen catalogue, and with good reason. Still feels bonkers that this came out in 1982. It’s about as icy slick as they come, with a synthetic veneer that steers just clear of being too cheesy. As the name would suggest, it’s particularly evocative of certain spaces: Hyatt lobbies, futuristic elevators, waiting rooms. (The cover art for the Windham Hill pressings seems well aware of that, er, interiority.) There’s enough acoustic guitar and piano to ensure that you can’t forget you’re listening to a Windham Hill release, although I don’t entirely follow the insistent categorization of the record as “new age”–it’s too plump and plastic, too winking and too done up. (All good things.) I can’t really think of anyone who wouldn’t like this. Enjoy!

[RIP] Suicide – Suicide, 1977

I was deeply saddened to learn of Alan Vega’s passing on Saturday. The reach of Suicide’s influence is well-documented, and Vega’s work needs no introduction. Produced by the venerable Craig Leon and allegedly recorded in four hours, Suicide has a permanent slot on every reputable list of the most influential records of all time. It was post punk before punk had actually figured out what punk was, it was true rock and roll because Vega was a teenager in the 50s, and it was two steps ahead of no wave because it evoked something apocalyptic without having to try so damn hard. It’s volatile and degenerate music, both in form and content. It sounds like trying to listen to music through earmuffs. It sounds like heat waves–dirty and shimmering. It sounds like nothing else.

I was lucky enough to see Suicide at Club Europa in 2007. In his signature checker-print skullcap, Vega was so focused and furious that he might have been casting spells, while Martin Rev, slithering around in a slashed tank top and wraparound sunglasses, looked like he belonged in the opening sequence of Blade. It was simultaneously brutal and hypnotic, and with the room soaked in unrelenting red light, it felt like a reminder that the punishment for suicide is hell. It was Disneyland compared to their riot-inducing bloodbath performances of the 70s, but to this day it’s still one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.

Thank you for everything, Alan–you will be missed.

New Age Steppers – Action Battlefield, 1981

Second full-length from UK dub supergroup New Age Steppers. Incredible lead vocals from Arianne Foster, aka Ari-Up (The Slits), backing vocals from a teenage Neneh Cherry (The Slits, Rip Rig + Panic, work with the Notorious B.I.G., Youssou N’Dour, and Massive Attack, among others; also Don Cherry’s stepdaughter), bass from Crucial Tony (Dub Syndicate), and production by Adrian Sherwood (founder of On-U Sound, also the only consistent member in the N.A.S. lineup).

About as spacey as production gets, and more vocal-heavy than some of their other work. Mostly covers, including Horace Andy (“Problems”), Black Uhuru’s Michael Rose (“Observe Life”), B.B. Seaton (“My Love”), and the Heptones’ Leroy Sibbles (“Guiding Star”). Summer classic.