Patrick Porter

Bachelor Pad Blue; Bent Pants & Stray Cats (Unreleased, 2009/10)

For: Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Giant Sand, Little Fyodor

Byline: Greyday rejected this? ... wtf?

Patrick Porter is one of those rare artists. He's a brilliant poet, a published writer, accomplished painter (word is that the drummer from Slipknot bought a ton of his work... which makes little sense to me. Even more perplexing is Porter's claim that he threw bananas at the band during the transaction), and a great songwriter. He's also incredibly prolific at all of this while somehow being something of a vagrant. He tours on Greyhound buses, holes up in vans or tiny studios, and manages to always keep his wandering mind focused on recording his memories in one way or another. Sometimes those are beautiful memories, sometimes ugly, nightmarish even, hilarious or sometimes they're just plain weird. All in all, Porter tells the stories of himself, and if you can bet one thing when you get a Patrick Porter disc spinning in your CD player, it's that it will be something honest. Whatever happened to him, what he was going through, if he's angry or uncomfortable where he is, even if it's unreasonable, he'll let you know.

His last extended stint (during which time these tunes were laid to tape) brought him back to Colorado where he slept in the extra room of an old friend's apartment, frequently played gigs at places like Wax Trax Records and the Skylark Bar for meager audiences quietly admiring his commanding (if also modest) presence at relating the world as he sees it unfolding all around him. I knew Mr. Porter during this period, and I found him to be remarkably friendly, incredibly interesting, highly intelligent, very funny, but, indeed as this record indicates, there was something a little off about him, too. He would hang around Gabor's Bar a lot back then, his A Swan at Smiley's LP was in the jukebox there, and we had some great times over games of rummy and bouts of Miles Davis, but I never really saw the loneliness his record harps on... which is a little sad to think about now, actually. I wonder how well I really knew him. But then you hear this record, and it's a window into who Patrick Porter really was on a much more total level at this specific time in his life.

And the record doesn't sound all that sad all the time, either, so don't worry, I think Patrick's doing alright. Opener "Hello" tricks you into thinking Porter's shifted gears to some kind of folk-ambient sound before blasting into a ho-down of an introduction, screaming and yelping "HELLO!"s to anyone who'll hear his story. And with a following spoken-word welcome, explanation of the record, an extended dedication, and a tip of the hat to Denver, I think Porter right off the bat wants to make sure he tells folks that no matter what happened during this "very feverish time... a time of great strife and complexity" (as he says), he wasn't taking any of it too seriously.

Still, lines like "Make my next meal a loaded gun" are delivered cold enough to shake you to your core. There's plenty of sadness and a lot of frustration to be found in tunes like the toe-tappin' "Big Frowny Face," which is something of an assault on an ex-girlfriend. "Zero" and "No One's Ever Gonna Love Me" are pity parties that Porter's pitching to no one but himself through country balladry twinged with the sting of stark lonliness and ghostly backing vox. Sometimes doubled vocals are off-tune just enough to grate the nerves, which might mirror Porter's own internal, ugly demons. Another plus is that Porter's tales are well adaptable to a range of styles from prettier, hazy ballads to more uptempo banjo or guitar-based riffs. Then there's a healthy share of stone-gorgeous moments that make it all worth it. "Fogelburg" is a simply wonderful light-rock tune, and "Lizzy Turtle Laylo," aside from being about a turtle that actually lived in my apartment for a few months, might just be the purtiest piece of music I've heard all year.

Sorry for the lengthy post here, we usually try to keep them below 500 words.. I don't owe Porter anything, and he doesn't owe me nothin' neither, so maybe it's a little odd that I had this much to say. I guess this record just resonates a little more deeply on a personal level. And the best part is I have a feeling it will do the same for a lot more pairs of ears if they're willing to put up with the guy... many have tried and failed (even his own record label, Greyday—they rejected this album). I don't think Patrick wants any of us to feel sorry for him. But it's a pretty interesting thing to hear him being sorry for himself for some reason. Plus, it's usually positively beautiful, even when he's at his weirdest.

Crawf

Patrick Porter Official Bandcamp (stream/buy this here)

p.s. Dear Patrick, plz come back to Denver.

Tjutjuna

Tjutjuna (Self-Released/Fire Talk, 2010)

For: Pink Floyd, Acid Mothers Temple, Tortoise

Byline: Q: Can a mythical beast be found in the stars? And if so, does he wear rainbow sunglasses, and why would he do such a thing? A: Probably “yes” to both. I would think. And I have no idea why he would do such a thing. Shut up and download this.

So I’m going to go ahead and call this self-titled effort a debut. Now, this Denver quartet has been around the block, there’s no question. When I first met these fellas, they went under the moniker of “Mothership.” The group has been together as Mothership for quite some time now, growing up together in the mountainous town of Evergreen, Colorado, spending almost every summer BBQ holiday together, and jamming epic space-prog since high school, or even possibly further back. So when the group dropped the previous name for the much more awesome “Tjutjuna” last year, I guess it was meant to signal a change. What happened, here, you may ask, to this band you’ve never heard of before (except that amazing vinyl single you never actually ordered... remember that one?), and is now being blogged about on the cusp of the group’s first-ever (finally) tour of the Southwest with friends and co-producing cohorts Woodsman (currently riding some recent buzz and on the brink of a brand new EP out through Sacramento’s Lefse imprint)?

Well the first thing they did was drop the vocals entirely. Tjutjuna is now an instrumental band, and this is a very welcome change of internal structure. The band revolves around the band now more than anything else, and even with all the swirling effects, digital noise-noodles and clouds of distorted ambient bliss, they somehow manage to sound more like a true quartet than many... you know, other quartets. Bass, drums, guitar, and synth-noise. It’s as simple as that, and when stripping down and zeroing in on musicianship and texture first and foremost, the fruits of a more intensified, detailed look at each of these elements pays off in spades with moments of psychedelic swathes that streak across starry skies and traverse thickly wooded marshes. Tjutjuna’s songs are cyclically structured, centering around simple chord progressions, hypnotically repeating bass lines, and hard driving drum grooves that run a breadth from jungle-treading low tom jams to astral-gliding, motorik krautrock. But the guitar tones are what sets this band apart—so full, robust, and thick, but also weightless, floating and achingly beautiful. Warping textures throughout the record’s short span ensure that even the 9-minutes of “Riseset” remain hopelessly engaging, so easy to get lost in while you’re subconsciously banging your head against the wall to its throbbing forward motion, and its hard-rocking sections will all but force you to throw up the horns to boot. But the best is saved for last with “The Swish” and “Tatanka Spirit," which recall the beautiful harmonies Pink Floyd always seemed hellbent on force-feeding devotees. No matter what type of groove Tjutjuna chooses to champion (alliteration!!) from track to track, the band remains uncommonly focused for a “psychedelic” outfit, and with the benefit of time and experience, they've reemerged on record as truly a fully-formed grouping of talented artists and devoted, detailed tone-smiths, thus proving to be the next big thing in the world of prog-rock. This is neither presumption nor prediction. This is certainty. You’ve got a chance to hop on the bandwagon early before this thing gets picked up on a label and all your friends have to buy what you discovered for free. Head to Tjutjuna’s blogspot and download this............................

..........right....

....................................now.

—Craw’z 6/8/2010

Tjutjuna Official MySpace

Tjutjuna Official Blog

The Pirate Signal

No Weak Heart Shall Prosper (Self-Released, 2010)

For: Anticon, The Prodigy, Massive Attack

Byline: Craw’z takes on the Pirate Signal... My greatest challenge yet.

I’ve had this monkey on my back. This “Pirate Signal” monkey... it’s been haunting nearly every single one of my days for the past three weeks solid. It’s not that I didn’t want to review No Weak Heart Shall Prosper. I’m all for supporting Denver artists and musicians in any way I can.... but being an unpaid music critic and blogger certainly has its limitations, especially in regards to good ol’ fashioned Craw’z time. Matched with this ridiculous amount of music in my “2010” custom iTunes playlist (yeah... go ahead, call me a freak), my brain is seriously addled as of late. So then there’s this hip hop album, and I find myself staring at a blank document, trying to gather my thoughts on it... a style of hip hop I don’t typically find myself jamming on a regular basis. It’s jagged. It’s hardcore. It’s edgy. In YO’ FACE, y'know? At least it’s in my face...

The Pirate Signal knows how to bring the party, but it’s not the sunny, ecstasy-laden bliss-fest many might hope for. The Pirate Signal has an additional project known in these Denver parts as the “Blackhearts.” They rap about the blackness of their endlessly black lives and personas—hearts, dyed hair, clothes, shoes, etc... quite a bit. And like the Blackhearts moniker might suggest, No Weak Heart Shall Prosper is generally dark in its assessments of socio-politically charged, topical issues (see “Love in the Time of Swine Flu”), murky subject matter seeps into the production like rain through warped floorboards in a crumbling house. Most beats are massive, atomic blasts, underscored with deep, low synthetic dirges that paint a thick curtain of opaque and grim textures. Samples are used if you listen close for them, but largely they’re disguised in attempt to create what the Signal would hope is a unique hip hop aesthetic, which is modestly successful here... but there are still some tired tricks (like the auto-tuned vocal hook of “The Saga of Dirty Street Kids) used that weigh Abraham’s original voice down a bit. “Darker, My Love” finds the group digging into a Michael Jackson neo-soul/funk groove that chugs along nicely, complete with a compelling vocal hook... it’s a hot track, and a shame Yonnas doesn’t take more advantage of it, spitting only one full verse this time around. “Automatic,” meanwhile incorporates Kraftwerk-via-Afrika Bambataa influence with a forceful, propulsive beat that lays the path for a biting, rhythmic lyrical flow.

Rapper Yonnas Abraham’s delivery is a mish-mash of styles that come together to fuse a singular vision—there’s the grim, raspy growl of Dälek, the matter-of-fact rock-ready shout of Run DMC, and the faster, syllable-cramming bounce of Twista, too... all excellent tools with which Yonnas can mollify his cultural frustrations while simultaneously gettin’ folks in the crowd to reach for the sky. If you’ve ever seen a Pirate Signal show, peeps go bonkers over this. Overall No Weak Heart Shall Prosper is a winning formula, but Yonnas surprisingly keeps this one close to home: “I’m a Col. Boi” and others are shout-outs to Denver and Denver only, which is curious... this stuff has the ability to spark some serious raves on a national scale, and it makes you wonder how far the Signal sees this one reaching for themselves. Showing regional love to your hometown is standard operating procedure in hip-hop, but The Pirate Signal have the chops take this one out of the stranglehold of the no-coast region and out to the masses…2010 and beyond.

—Craw'z 5/20/2010

The Pirate Signal Official MySpace

Download the teaser EP for No Weak Hearts Shall Prosper here

Tjutjuna / Fissure Mystic

Collider / Monochrome 7” Split (Fire Talk / Din Records)

For: Acid Mothers Temple, Sonic Youth, Comets on Fire

Byline: Denver serves up a platter of psychedelic rock at its finest. This year’s worst trip is also its best.

Wow, sorry about the lack of posts lately. It’s a good thing Ryan is so on top of stuff... but seriously, look at this first page. I’m squeezing this in just before my last one fell off the roll. Yikes. Rest assured, I’ve been sitting on a mountain of stuff that should get—NAY—needs to be posted, all of it well worth your time, so I’ll start chipping slowly away. I swear you’ll be hearing from me more often in the future. I promised Ryan Consulate General would come first... but this particular post is loooong overdue, and it’s just too good to pass up.

Ahoy - Denver, Colorado! Best known in recent years for producing... the Fray... this town is actually a pretty hip place to catch some progressive live music. Being in the center of the country has its disadvantages, for sure (Lord... the ocean, how I miss thee), but one cool thing is that a “scene” here doesn’t revolve around a single venue or a single style of music as it does with many other cities around our fair motherland. People come in from coast to coast to share their music with us, and this fact coupled with the undying diversity harbored by the amazing interwebs has allowed for a truly multi-faceted, colorful spectrum of music to emerge from the Mile High city. We’ve got our share of glo-fi here, we’ve got our share of new wave, we’ve got our share of experimental, we’ve got our share of hip hop, we’ve got our share of indie, we've got our share of folk, and we’ve got our share of psychedelic... and boy, do we ever have our share of psychedelic rock bands. Chief among the best of them are represented here on this wonderful 7” disc released this past February. Fissure Mystic wrote in their blog that each copy comes complete with its own hit of LSD. Even if they’re joking... uhmm... actually, they might not be joking. Order one for yourself and see. For $5, it’s worth checking.

“Collider” fills the Tjutjuna side of the disc, and is a Fire Talk release. Haven’t heard of Fire Talk, eh? You have now, and rest assured you’ll be hearing more from them. It’s a tape-only (well, and apparently 7”s are OK) label started by another Denver band, Woodsman, who just released an excellent full-length album on Mexican Summer. “Collider” isn’t so much a song as it is an interstellar journey at light speed with an untraceable warp signature. It's got an internal clock of its own that ticks unrelentingly forward towards an infinite apocalypse without blinking. The bass and drums hold this cyclone of sound down as long as possible before the entire mix is swept up in a maelstrom of breathtaking noise and chaos, only to lock back in moments later without so much as skipping a beat or looking back on the destruction caused in its wake. Lucky for us, they do this, like, three times, and each is successively orgiastic. Instruments are squeezed and shrieked beyond belief, breathing a living force into guitars that are haunted and tortured, and like being that way.

“Monochrome” is the Fissure Mystic side, and it’s a whale of a song. Transitioning nicely from the whirlwind Tjutjuna side, the track starts with a gnarly guitar lick matched note for note by pummeling snares and toms before leading into a magnificent sigh of a release—a throbbing half-time jam. Here the Fissures display the sweet side of psychedelia with a beautiful vocal melody rife with melancholia. The best music should be able to take you from majestic highs to devastating lows within minutes, and Fissure Mystic manages to do this several times over in a single track. Heavy syncopation propels the chorus, lifting the song into unforeseen heights before plummeting again into its coasting refrain with a giant splash. Everything’s given plenty of gestation time before the nightmarish opening riff returns for a final blast into oblivion.

And that, my friends, is how they do it in Denver. But you don’t have to take my word for it, head over to your local Fire Talk website and grab yourself a copy. You can hear these tunes on the bands’ respective MySpace pages, but this one is absolutely best when taken as the big ol’ pill o’ wax it was meant for. Swallow this one whole and fly high. You won’t regret it. (♪ Da-dun DUN! ♪)

--Craw’z 4/18/2010

Tjutjuna Official MySpace Page

Fissure Mystic Official MySpace Page

Fire Talk Official Website

Moonspeed

Flowers of the Moon (Flight Approved, 2009)

Byline: Since when could psych-rock make yer toes a-tap? Since now.

For: Six Organs of Admittance, Sigur Rós, Tortoise

Denver’s Moonspeed are no strangers to the wonders of psychedelia. The album titleFlowers of the Moon should be a first indication that the band wants to lift its listeners up into the mysteriously unknown beauty of outer-space. But outer-space can also, of course, be considered a cold and desolate place. Moonspeed remedies this truth, however metaphorically, by planting flowers on the moon. Oof. What a clunky analysis of a record title. But in all seriousness, there’s a certain warmth here that comes hand-in-hand with Moonspeed’s expansive 11-members-and-counting instrumental set up. The kind of warmth you can only find in sun-soaked fields, blooming with spring-time optimism and romanticized visions of untarnished and beautiful nature. Warmth in the full, open chord strums of electric guitar. Warmth in the spacious, reverby, echoey vocals. Warmth in swathes of ambient, harmonic drones. Warmth in the cymbal swells and gently percussive rhythms. Warmth in the buzzy synths that drive pretty melodies like a safari tour guide through forests of instrumental meanderings. It’s warm. Get it?

Given the above description of the band’s spacious, meticulously captured sound, I can’t find much else to call it other than “psychedelic rock,” especially when you look at both the Jefferson-Starship-light-show-esque cover art and the subject matter being explored here. Tracks have titles like “Wandering Sun,” and “Magna-Save,” and a lyric in “Harvest,” almost writes itself - “There is nothing lonelier than looking at the stars, we are so small.” But here’s something - psychedelic rock, in all its previous forms, incarnations, and experiments has, generally, one thing commonly: slooooow tempos. Flowers of the Moon definitely has moments of these meditative grooves, but the best songs light a flame ‘neath the ol’ metronome and ramp up the beat into something you might even call toe-tapping. Opener “Silent Sky,” employs this technique right away, giving the listener that feeling of celestial traveling, like being in slow motion while stars fly by at ungodly speeds. “Golden Clock” is another nice example with a tasty hi-hat groove reminiscent of Tortoise’s “Swung From the Gutters” off TNT.

A blanket of solemnity soothes these songs in that tragically beautiful way. It’s clear that leader and songwriter Jeff Suthers finds a comfortable spot in the world of the melancholic, but what’s especially nice is how the music never comes out emotionally overbearing or depressing. This is music to listen to not when you’re feeling bad about yourself or the world, but rather when you’re in that hopeful state, perhaps looking beyond the desolate, polluted, sky-scraping monuments of civilization. Take it with you on a sunny day for a walk through the park, bask in its cozy aura and remember that here is only here. What’s out there must certainly be a place toward which we can always look forward.

--Craw’z 1/10/2010

Moonspeed Official Website (via Flight Approved)

Moonspeed Official MySpace