FULL DISCLOSURE

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If you’ve been alive in the United States and anything but slightly comatose these past few years, you’ve probably noticed how the state of corporate governance in this country is, to put it mildly, fucked. We all know the buzzwords, the proper nouns and names that now stand in for large, dizzyingly complex (to the average schmuck) and nefarious schemes that transformed overnight into heinous scandals: ENRON, WORLDCOM, TYCO, HEALTHSOUTH, AIG, etc., etc. The figures — both “good” and “bad” — that have played roles in the schemes, scandals, and their eventual (I hope) censures and convictions are all-too-familiar as well: Ken Lay, Andy Fastow, Sherri Watkins, Richard Scrushy, Eliot Spitzer, Harvey Pitt, George W. Bush, Bernie Ebbers, Dennis Kozlowski, etc. ad nauseum (I’m not counting Martha Stewart because 1. what she did was personal impropriety that really didn’t have any bearing on her company and 2. who cares anyway? insider trading isn’t nearly as bad a crime (tho still a crime) as defrauding billions of dollars from investors)).

If you follow the twisted, self-serving logic of the market-boosters, privatization-jingoists, and our current “administration,” these scandals are all mere aberrations, tiny harmless pimples on the overall white pasty ass that is the American body business. It’ll pass, they say. Trust us, they say. The stock market gives consistent returns over time, they say. The markets are rational, they say. And so on and so forth.

Like many Americans, I am simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by what passes for ethical “business” these days. I find myself watching a hell of a lot of CNBC — almost in equal doses with whatever baseball’s on and the occasional VH1 clip show (that I’ve seen a million times), the Weather Channel, and any policy briefing or committee hearing on C-SPANs 1 and 2. I suspect that unlike a lot of CNBC viewers, I don’t have that much of a personal stake in what’s being broadcast because, hey, I’m broke, but still there’s something oddly compelling in whatever’s roiling the markets on whichever minute I tune in. The business of America being business, after all, as one of our more notably dumb presidents once proclaimed.

A good scandal has always drawn more viewers throughout history than any success story: just ask Shakespeare, whose tragedies are far better known than his comedies (c’mon, don’t disagree — more people quote Hamlet than As You Like It). The late 1990s are behind us, and the talking heads that once cheered on the markets with such rah-rah notions as “the new economy” and “just-in-time” and “synergies” are now gleefully delighting in watching their once-touted captains fall into “early retirement,” as they’re replaced by (fingers crossed) more “capable” stewards of industry. And that’s fine, that’s only human, after all.

One of the things that I find so funny, or maybe so poignant, or maybe just finally a good idea, is now the talking heads — when chatting up some investment bank analyst or some fund portfolio manager about the investment du jour — disclose the stakes. So yeah, I can really find out whether Richard Pinstripes III of Morgan Stanley’s wife and kids have holdings in SleazeCo., as if that’s gonna change much of his analysis (“BUY!” “SELL!” “HOLD!” — oh wait, they’re using more neutral language now, and not yelling any more).

So what the fuck does this have to do with your dumb music blog and the ridiculously-insular musiccrit world in general, you say? Admittedly, not a whole lot. The stakes are low. Perhaps you could call it defrauding if a bunch of people buy whatever crappy album some blog is peddling, but at most we’re only talking a few thousand bucks, not trillions of dollars erased overnight.

And yet, there’s something about the unbridled enthusiasm in “our” tiny little insignificant fiefdom that still rankles. Even with the advent of downloading (full disclosure: this “analyst” could give a fuck about listening to music on a computer, just about the worst mediums possible for listening aside from the interiors of steam plant turbines), do we really need to hear and endorse everything we’re hearing and endorsing? Is all of it really so “great?” What happens when the next big thing turns out to not, say, deliver in a different setting (ie. album vs. live)?

Ultimately, there’s not a whole lot you can do. In the 1990s, there were a few voices in the wilderness, on the sidelines (Gretchen Morgenstern and Thomas Frank come to mind) pointing out that the referees had fallen asleep, the coaches were moving the chains, the players were helping each other cheat, and the crowd was still cheering wildly. And those few voices — the ones with, hey! a sense of fairness and propriety, maybe — were just dismissed as humbugs. Like I said, the stakes are much smaller for what this particular unread and dusty corner of the internet touches on, and I’ve been pegged as a humbug long long ago anyway, but I can’t dismiss the nagging feeling that today’s music bloggers are yesterday’s Henry Blodgets.

So here it is, full disclosure: I only write about shit I like. I hardly, if ever, receive promos from anybody, unless I ask for them, which is also rare. I don’t post mp3s — nothing against people who do, but I don’t see much point, plus if what I write really compels you to hear something (yeah, right), you can spend the bucks on it yourself. What I write about is made by people (yes, people) who may or may not need your help/money/time/attention/whatever. I dunno. I’m not sure that I do, myself, but I’m still writing anyways. I have never taken, nor asked, nor been offered any cash in exchange for a review (though many of the few crappy promos I’ve received over time have been exchanged for minimal amounts of cash or records I’m more interested in hearing). Don’t get me wrong, though: it’s not some uncompromising ethical stand I’m shooting for here. I’d be willing to sell out, if only there was anybody buying.

LOUISVILLE, LOUISVILLE, LOUISVILLE

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So I’ve been meaning to write this since like Christmas. 2005 is the year of Louisville, in many odd and yet pleasing ways. So back around Christmas, again, I was on this plane hurtling through a massive snowstorm on my way south from Chicago (layover, natch), and this wave sorta came over me. It wasn’t giddiness per se, nor anxiety, but possibly some combination of both. Hell I’m not even really sure what it was. But it was something.

So yeah, I’ve always been a homer. Y’know, the guy who always roots for his home team no matter how many bonehead plays they make (Francisco Garcia, why do you foul three-point attempts with no time left?). So it’s not surprising that I would feel something strangely happy and crazed on returning. But I’ve gone home lots of times; mostly it’s no big deal. No, it had already started, this 2005-year-of-Louisville nonsense. So like a soon-to-be-jilted suitor, I’ve been learning to savor the moment before the inevitable. Actually, strike jilted, even when things go right they can be inevitable. Anyway, so I’m gonna try to roll it out, what it is I’m thinking about, if I can.

1. Past where the river bends, past where the silos stand, past where they paint the houses

Everybody thinks they know the story of Slint. I mean, everybody thinks the mythology is the thing, y’know? I’m not saying I’m better than everybody (I ain’t), but I think I might be one of the few — even with a so-called “insider’s perspective” (ha!) — to admit that I don’t have a fucking clue.

When the rumors of a Slint reunited first swirled like tumbleweeds in the digital desert of the internet, I was more than a little skeptical. Hell, those old rumors have been around since I was in high school — and that was a long time ago (missed my ten year last fall). Shit, I even saw Britt at a Jack Rose show in September, and the only music thing he mentioned was playing with Miighty Flashlight (well neither of us wanted to talk music, I think). But then it came true. For one time only, Slint is back, on tour.

Many have commented on the irony of this tour by a band that hardly played their hometown, much less an extended jaunt elsewhere. I never got to see ’em, either. Sometimes I’m not entirely sure that’s a bad thing, either: my friend Steve told me that the reason he thought they were brilliant when he saw them back then was because it was like “four r*****s playing the most godlike music” (apologies, no offense intended). But still, I missed Cafe Dog (well did they even play? y’know, the big riot show!), I missed the Kentucky Theater, I missed the VFW Hall and on and on. So I couldn’t miss this.

It’s kind of hard to explain, I admit. And I’ve told the story many times before (and it really isn’t a story but barely an anecdote): bought the lone, lonely copy of Tweez sitting in ear X-tacy for ages because of the sticker that said “Members of Solution Unknown.” Took it home, had adolescent mind blown. You’re thinking great, big deal, so what? and that’s understandable. I think that if I knew exactly how to articulate how I felt this music was a conscious part of me before I even heard it, well, I’d probably sound less arrogant and silly. But I don’t know how to articulate it (obviously). And it doesn’t even matter. I’ll see them this Friday and Saturday, and I’ll be that 13 year-old hearing this ageless, primeval Kentucky music for the first time.

2. Orders rescinded, and no pie

Bastro was headier. Now I know that’s just about the most obvious thing to say about a band with David Grubbs in it, but that’s not exactly what I mean. There’s something more to his music than just advanced degrees at elite institutions or arcane cultural studies, though that’s all anybody’s talked about since Gastr. There’s a sense of place, just like Slint. Well, not just like Slint. Not to get all Freudian, but Tweez is like the ur-, the id. And though Spiderland is a more “literary” album (bear with me here, people), musically it’s still this uncontrollable urge, this force of nature.

Bastro’s sorta like the ego and the superego put together. Okay, maybe I should quit with the Psych 101 bullshit. But you’ve got this intensely loud, raging music that’s tight, controlled. Dave’s lyrics are just as full of seemingly abstract imagery as the later Gastr stuff, but there is a text, and a lot of it is about Kentucky simpletons living in the modern world: “Shoot Me a Deer,” “Flesh Colored House.” So it’s complicated, ‘kay? Anybody who thinks Grubbs “got sophisticated” should hear this stuff, and Squirrel Bait too. It’s always been there, just in a hard-coated shell.

So hearing there’d finally be a two-for reissue of Diablo Guapo and Sing the Troubled Beast, the two long-gone Homestead albums, I was psyched, despite knowing them like the back of your mother’s hand. Then, hearing there’d be an additional live disc of stuff that would later be reworked into the early Gastr stuff, I was amazed. I mean, like, I knew Dave, Bundy and John were playing that stuff, but I never heard it then. Hell, like Slint, I never got to see Bastro live then, either.

But then, intrigue. Apparently there’s still some remnant of Homestead or Dutch East India left with enough gumption to threaten legal action (I’m no lawyer, but I’d think for contracts to be valid the record company has to hold up their end too, ie. PAY THE FUCKING BANDS), and now they’re “temporarily unavailable.” But never fear, the fine folks at Drag City will sort it out.

3. I think your brain likes it, your brain has a flaw

Now here’s where we get personal. Just kidding. Unlike Slint or Bastro, I saw Crain a whole mess of times, even booked ’em once. The running joke among the “oldsters” (no offense again!) was that Crain was like Bastro trying to play Slint. But fuck that, from where I’m standing, they’re just as essential, if you’re still hanging with me long enough to read about this Louisville stuff. Plus they were the first band that I really felt like, wow, these guys are only a little bit older than me, they’re doing it (yeah Squirrel Bait were preppy teens playing shows with G.G. Allin but I never saw them either).

So Speed. Record release show, one Sunday night sometime in the haze that is 1991, at Another Place Sandwich Shop on Frankfort Avenue. Hula Hoop and Sebadoh, two great bands in their own right, are also playing. I’d seen Crain a bunch, mind blown repeatedly, but this was it. Bought my copy with the special glow-in-the-dark cover (like only 200 made, eBayers!), complete with palindrome on record sleeve. Have listened repeatedly ever since.

I don’t think anybody could’ve predicted on that Sunday night the troubles Crain would succumb to over the coming years, and I’m not the one to catalog them. Suffice to say, if you experienced it, you know. Maybe that’s a cop-out, I dunno, but fuck it. Somehow, the master tapes survived years in a storage unit — and yielded 4 more songs to boot! How typically Louisville, in its way.

4. Godfuckingdammit

Yeah, there’s been some bumps on the road since January. Hunter S. Thompson’s dead. You can’t get those Bastro CDs yet. Uptight Britweenies have been dissing Slint’s live shows through the anonymous comfort of the internet. But it doesn’t matter. It’s here. It’s 2005.

FROG EYES, THE FOLDED PALM (ABSOLUTELY KOSHER) CD

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The Victoria, B.C. band Frog Eyes presents listeners with a pretty heavy proposition: can you deal with lead singer Carey Mercer’s absolutely histrionic vocal style long enough to hear the music as a whole, and to grasp what he’s singing? It’s probably a tough job for the average joe, which is not to say it’s not somewhat rewarding. I’m not a huge fan of the narrative, or the meta, or even that much elliptical stuff in rock lyrics anymore. These days I think I just want simplicity. But there’s something about this record by Frog Eyes that makes me re-think my position, even though I’m not poring over the lyric sheet. Carey Mercer’s vocals make this stuff seem pretty damn urgent so maybe he’s not Iggy, but that’s all right. But like any band with their own distinct sense of style, it’s not going to be for everybody.

GOODBYE, RAOUL DUKE

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Aside from the pure anger and sadness i’m feeling about Hunter S. Thompson’s death, what gets to me is the manner. And I do not mean suicide per se, but the idea that all we as readers, as fans, etc. can do now is speculate. I certainly understand his son’s statement about respecting his family’s privacy, but at the same time it displays a naivete that bothers me — half of anything I’ve said to anyone else about this in the past 24 hours is speculation, which ultimately of course doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whether it was Dubya or mental illness or drugs or an accident or terminal illness or whatever that prompted HST to kill himself. What matters is yet another of our heroes is gone. We need to get used to it, but speaking for myself I find that a difficult concept to grasp. It’s hard to want to continue living when you know that everyone you ever looked up to is ready to shuffle off.

Speaking from a point that has little to do with his impact as a writer (though i think that cannot be overstated), and I hate to become a parody myself (too late!), but again, Louisville (blah blah). My hometown, the place that defined me as much as i defined it, was such a place of inspiration and exasperation. I knew that even before I read HST. And he was just an inspiration for getting out (though not to belittle those that stayed), much less changing the world in his way (so he didn’t crumble all the towers, but that’s a pretty tall order for anyone). HST, Muhammed Ali, Slint (ha!), anyway, yeah you get the drift.

Someday, some of HST’s Louisville contemporaries — friend and foe alike — will put together the true early portrait of the man (one of his best friends was the real estate mogul Paul Semonin) (one of his worst enemies was David Grubbs’s dad) (he was known even in high school for snaking gasoline for his motorcycle if you left your car in your driveway). I only know some bits and pieces. and I never met him, nor even got to see him speak, nor even got to see him just ramble drunkenly onstage, like at his last appearance in his hometown (Depp in tow). I just knew his writing, and an awful lot of it I knew before I even got to read it.

I have a short piece in the works here about how excited I was again for Louisville, for 2005 being a good rediscovery year. I’ll still post it, and it will still be exuberant, but I think now it will have to be tinged with some sort of sadness to reflect on HST’s passing.

RIP.

EFTERKLANG, TRIPPER (LEAF) CD

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Is it me, or is just about everything outta Europe some sorta twee stuff these days? I mean, even the grime stuff I’ve heard had an unbearable Paddington Bear quality to it, underneath a thin veneer of tough. What happened? Isn’t this the same continent that basically brought us two world wars, not to mention Scandinavian death metal? Where’s the frenzy, the brutality, the stupidity?

Efterklang’s this ten-piece band from Denmark, home of the l’il mermaid and some of the twee-est shit in Europe. Then again, they also got Lars Von Trier so I’ll give ’em a break (The Idiots ain’t twee, at least not all the way through). And really, there isn’t anything wrong with attempting to attain the beautiful, if it’s well done. Which this record is, if anything.

To these ears Efterklang definitely falls on Satie’s conception of “sonic wallpaper,” which ain’t an insult (even though I don’t think that’s what they’re shooting for). Which is to stay, this stuff, with its strings and choruses and gentle electronics and whatnot, is either easily ignorable or strikingly beautiful. Since I’m not a curmudgeon all of the time, I’ll give Tripper a pass.

PANICSVILLE, PERVERSE (LIQUID DEATH/HELLO PUSSY) CD

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Panicsville’s Andy Ortmann has been doing his thing for quite some time now, and he doesn’t care if you like it or not. No matter whether “noise” gets heralded in some dumb mainstream magazine by some clueless chump, no matter whether Panicsville gets a mention or a photo, I take solace in the fact that Ortmann will do what he wants regardless of what others think.

And the cool thing is it’s not easy to know what to think about Perverse, with its varied electronics and other instrumentation, water and cash register sounds, and sinister drones. I’d seen Panicsville a bunch of times when I lived in Chicago, in different incarnations, and the only real constant thread through all of the performances (other than them usually consisting of Ortmann and one or more co-conspirators) is that there’s no constant thread, no easy way to categorize what’s going on. This recording is similar, we’ve got a range of styles (though all sort of classifiable as challenging, in a sense), and a bunch of ways to interpret what we’re hearing. A cast of notables such as Kevin Drumm, MV Carbon (Metalux), Thymme Jones (Cheer-Accident), Weasel Walter (Flying Luttenbachers) and others add to the bewildering texture of sounds, but it’s clearly Ortmann who runs the show. And that’s fine with me.

ARIEL PINK, HAUNTED GRAFFITI 2: THE DOLDRUMS (PAW TRACKS) CD

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I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t get it. I’m not gonna play some high-and-mighty critic role and try to come up with some lame way to pretend that I figured out some lame way to interpret Ariel Pink, ’cause I haven’t. This record is immediately weird. It’s up to you, dear listeners, to figure it out.

Now I’m no stranger to strange probably most of the music I would list as my favorite shit ever would be frowned on by the general populace as “weird.” And that’s fine. But I think there’s a distinction between weird weird and “funny haha” weird. And I can’t quite tell where Ariel Pink fits in there. My inclination is to say towards the latter.

First impressions being what they are, I get the sense that Ariel Pink one guy who does everything on his records isn’t necessarily trying to be “funny haha” weird. Unfortunately, a lot of the tunes come across that way. What’s the most telling factor? Well the helium voices, definitely. I’m not sure if sounding like Ween is something he’s consciously shooting for, but he’s not far off. Additionally, the lo-fi-ness low-finesse of the recordings adds to the Beck outtake factor. Buried under the hissing sizzle and falsetto overloads is an occasional pop hook, sometimes even reminiscent (to me, anyway) of prime Scott Walker. Except you can’t tell what the fuck he’s singing. Put him in a studio with a decent engineer; clean him up a bit, maybe you got something. Then again, maybe not.

SHIT FROM AN OLD NOTEBOOK

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Found this small red memopad recently on my desk. Here’s what I wrote on it, all from January 2003:

– Get on your bad motor scooter and ride.
– Jesus Fucking Christ!
– “Amor” tattooed on a man’s hand.
– White Izod socks, head down.
– My brother’s name is Daniel and my name is Jackie and my father only drinks Jack Daniel’s.
– Good thing he doesn’t drink Old Crow, then.
– Chinese New Year’s Party for M.’s birthday, January 11 (Actual b’day is the 13th) Year of the Horse.
– Carlos! Carlos! Chaos!
– The special love I had for you, my baby blue. The special love you had for me, my dixie dear. Driving around Chicago – 1996 Honda Civic, Black. Radio tuned to 97.1 FM, Badfinger is playing. End argument, burst into Badfinger song.
– Everything is a trigger; stimuli for the memory.
– Machinery, the human body, video games.
– Their prostitutes are not like our prostitutes.
– Is this just one girl?
– Yes, she has a, headset. She’s like Madonna.
– I like that you can’t kill the parachuting dude.
– 12-9 is the MTA code for someone who has fallen under the train.
– Crazy Homie5. La rana.
– You wear a tube top in winter?
– Thanks for showing up to our first practice!
– Julie Mehreiu, Matthew Ritchie – MOMA QNS.
– Internet Ebonics.
– The black man still walks the land. Kiss my shit. Don’t think I don’t know who you are!
– Written on a fireplug on 23rd Street: Neck Face. In white-out.
– If I ever have a cat, its name will be Mei-Mei.
– She pulls on his cheek; subway conversation. His hair looks like a wig.
– Get ’em dead. He don’t care what it mean.
– Who is it?
– This is the police, open up.
– Who is it?
– This is the police, downstairs. Open up.
– Feeling like manic fatigue.
– Toto IV ‘Africa’ represent.
– Hittin’ the flask, early?
– Now this wasn’t permitted by the last band –
– Yeah.
– But is it me or are trustafarians invading the free psych scene?
– Hey man –
– I mean not people like you h2ijw or me.
– You’re talking about friends of mine, man.
– No, I don’t mean the last band. I mean kids with like five hundred dollar bongos and shit.
– General Rag Company Incorporated.
– He was like phoning it in.
– Phoning what in?
– His laptop.
– Like a dial-up?
– No I mean like –
– Dial-up, heh.
– What?
– If I wanted to hear dopey post-rock noodling, I wouldn’t have left Chicago.
– I, for some reason, inexplicably hate Pittsburgh.
– If I wanted to hear dopey post-rock noodling, I’d be friends with Ian Williams.
– Oakland, too.

A CHAT WITH CHARALAMBIDES

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Charalambides is one of the most arresting, unique, and compellingly weird bands to emerge from the Lone Star State in the past decade. That’s no mean feat, considering the Tejas psychedelic world has produced the Thirteenth Floor Elevators, the Red Krayola, Scratch Acid, the Butthole Surfers, and other purveyors of excellently absurdist rock. Charalambides, however, is distinctive even among these weirdoes in that the duo of Tom Carter (guitar) and Christina Carter (vocals, guitar) concentrates more on a beautifully haunting, spiritual vibe (not to mention neither of them lives in Texas any more), as opposed to the over-the-top psych scrawl of the fellow native Texans mentioned above. Listening to any title in their prodigious catalog from their debut cassette Our Bed Is Green to their recent material on the Kranky label is like soaking in a warm bath for an hour, blindfolded, on hallucinogens — only better. I recently conversed via email with Tom and Christina about their fresh release Joy Shapes, their approach to playing and improvising, their many side projects, and their future. This interview will appear in Swingset #6, along with a Mike Watt interview of Ray Pettibon, Devendra Banhart, Hair Police, Lloyd Banks (G-UNIT!) a Wolf Eyes tour diary, Metalux, Some Girls, Tyson Reeder and more.

Swingset: What was the recording process like for Joy Shapes? How did it differ from, say, Market Square or other releases?

Tom Carter: Joy Shapes was a lot different from everything else, mainly because it was the first time I was able to use a computer to mix. Before that (like for Market Square) there were a lot of frustrating live-4-track-to-DAT editing sessions and real-time layering that would almost drive me crazy trying to get right. Beyond that obvious difference, the Joy Shapes recordings were intensive and really heavy all the way through. Most of the other records were recorded in pieces over time and sometimes even from different eras. For Joy Shapes we recorded a few improvs and our trio set (mostly instrumental but with occasional vocals on the backing tracks), did multiple recordings of some songs, and then worked on it from there (mostly me solo, since Christina was on tour a lot, and also since computer mixing is very much a hermit activity). I picked out the stuff I wanted to work with, did some overdubs myself, had Christina overdub her vocals, and then mixed and edited like crazy. It took a year and a lot of energy. For earlier releases, things would take that long just because they would stall out in manufacturing, etc., but for Joy Shapes there was a year of solid thinking, discussion, listening, editing, artwork, etc. that combined with all the changes flying around in our lives made the process an alive and all-consuming thing that basically meshed in every way with my existence. My life became full of all this weird synchronicity and huge emotional gestures and crazy drama, and when it was done I was in a daze, and next thing I know I’m in Oakland holding a box of finished CDs.

SS: Am I incorrect in thinking that some instrumentation appeared on Joy Shapes that you hadn’t used on other records?

TC: One new-ish instrument was pedal steel, but we’d put out CD-Rs with pedal steel at that point. There’s also the psaltry, but Heather uses that a lot on the Ash Castles on the Ghost Coast CD. And there are the chimes and windwand, though they’re used minimally. The main new instrument was the computer. I did a lot of editing and processing stuff with it that I never could’ve done before…

SS: “Voice for You” on Joy Shapes — the production on this song is striking. Describe how you achieved the sounds, or what you were aiming for in terms of mood.

TC: The mood was supposed to be more ecstatic, gospel style, since the other two composed songs were (ahem) more “downbeat” and we wanted to avoid the dark ending of Market Square. The basic track was edited from a longer version and the layered guitar solos all grew organically out of solos that were already in the backing tracks. I also did a lot of computer editing on this one, making distorted vocal and panned delay loops and layering them over the music, chopping them up with a heavy gate at the end to make the sound more jagged (as opposed to droning, for example). For some strange reason this track was fairly complex but took much less time to finish and mix than Joy Shapes and Here Not Here.

SS: What advantages or disadvantages did working in a studio have over other home recording methods?

TC: All of Joy Shapes was in fact recorded at home. It’s hard to imagine recording anywhere else, since the clock on the studio wall is an oppressive thing. I did take it to a mastering studio, which is a bit different … I took a CD of my final mixes to Jerry Tubb’s studio in Austin, and he ran it through all his gear, tube pre-amps and EQ, expensive limiters, etc. I was pretty amazed at how alive the sound came, how much the mastering warmed it up. Jerry Tubb is great to work with, a north Texas ex-hippy who studied electronic music in Amarillo, did work with Townes van Zandt, Willie Nelson, and Terry Allen, and also did mastering work for the Butthole Surfers and a lot of releases on Emperor Jones (his work on the Tom Carter/Pip Proud CD convinced me to take the Charalambides mixes there). He’s open to all kinds of music and made some really good suggestions, including leaving some gravel in the sound in various places where I had been trying to smooth it out. I would say the main advantage we got from going into the mastering studio was an engineer who really knew what he was doing and did it artfully. If you don’t have a good engineer, any kind of studio is pointless.

SS: Was the “lost night” you’ve described during the Joy Shapes sessions a strangely one-time rock ‘n roll thing, or has that happened before?

TC: We drank a ton, smoked a ton, stayed up late, and Christina collapsed in a shivering heap at the end of it. That was really the only thing lost about it; the wiped out feeling at the end. Hard to imagine the energy level shooting up all the way like that again, though some of our shows tap the same source. The sound manifesting itself in the physical.

SS: How do the two of you find time to engage in projects with other musicians? Is Scorces still a band? How did the work with Pip Proud come about? Any new collaborations planned for the future?

TC: I’m collaborating with Marcia Basset (Un, Double Leopards) on a record for Eclipse; with Texas guitarist Sandy Ewen in a duo called Spiderwebs for a triptych CD on Music Fellowship; and with Vanessa Arn (ex-Primordial Undermind) on a split CD with Moglass. There’s other stuff planned too: duo projects with Christian Keifer, and Robert Horton (a Bay-area sound artist with roots in the original punk era). I’m in a group with some guys from Liquorball and The Rip-Offs, and also in Badgerlore (originally only Ben Chasny of Six Organs of Admittance, and Rob Fisk). So I keep busy. I find it’s much easier for me to keep going if I play with other people, and it expands my playing. I start to feel a bit isolated and walled off if all my playing is solo and I don’t see Christina very much. I hooked up with Pip Proud through Craig Stewart from Emperor Jones, who assembled a rotating cast of musicians to provide backing here and there on Pip’s new records. I ended up on one of them and Pip liked it enough to ask about doing a whole record together. He’s a really interesting guy, very interested in Nikolai Tesla. Also says he never heard Syd Barrett (I believe him, he’s existed in his own unaltered sound world for so long, I can only assume it goes back to birth).

Christina Carter: Yeah, Scorces is definitely a going concern. We’ve got plans to play together and record during my visit to the UK this winter and hopefully play a show or two. Also, Idea Records from San Antonio is releasing the double I Turn into You Scorces album sometime this coming spring. It features Heather playing electric guitar and me playing pedal steel with Heather singing a poem I wrote as lyrics, hence the title. We were playing around with becoming each other, doing what the other person normally does. Other collaborations I’ve got planned in various stages of reality/immediacy are a mail collaboration with Spencer Yeh of Burning Star Core, some live playing with Jeffrey Alexander from Black Forest/Black Sea, some recording and/or playing live as Passenger Rainbow with my pal Matthew Wascovich who runs the Slow Toe poetry press and hopefully someday a Christina Carter and Badgerlore live set with Badgerlore acting as “my” Crazy Horse – but all electric guitars. Another definite collaboration in the works is with Andrew MacGregor (Gown, Amarillo Stars). We’re going to do a mid-west tour in the spring and have a track (acoustic guitar, electric guitar, and duo vocals) coming out on a split album with My Cat Is An Alien in February and I’m sure more recording/playing to follow.

SS: What does it mean for Charalambides to be a band that is geographically separated now? How has moving to the coasts affected your lives and your music, if at all?

TC: The biggest change is that we’re not together very much, and big chunks of our lives will take place in the absence of the other. So we’re growing separately as people and musicians, which can make playing for the first time after a long absence surprising sometimes. I think we were each pretty surprised at how much more extroverted our music has become at least in the group context. In a way that may be due to being able to loosen up after having played solo separately for so long. Solo playing is often about control, and having someone there to back you up is a license to lose a bit of that control.

CC: Yeah, it affects it just in real obvious ways, like we gotta plan way in advance when we can get together and I gotta buy a plane ticket to get out there so it costs more money to make music. But, we always had the concept that we’re not a band in the sense that we don’t have to practice or record a certain amount per week/per year to exist. And I think we’ve developed more obvious, outward separate musical lives/existences so that we can each play as much as keeps us happy rather than having to wait for Charalambides time.

SS: How does the group dynamic change with the addition/subtraction of people?

CC: I feel like our being two or three people is a good way to do it, more people than that and it might dilute what we do. Jason and Heather were all people we feel musically comfortable and in tune with. The main thing seems to be that they helped expand the ideas and sounds and because we would never ask someone to play with us without a complete sense of trust; it was easy to let go with them and see where it would take us all. We would never tell someone what to play, how to play, so it was a really flexible thing where you all find out what your strengths are together and go from there. When it’s just the duo of Tom and me, it seems like we become more of a blues band.

TC: It depends on the person. Though a third person tends to make things more texturally rich. A third also can make things more “polite” in a way, at least until we’ve figured each other out. Our first shows with Heather were pretty restrained. Whereas Christina and I give each other a lot of room to do whatever, with a third you’re always conscious of not crowding someone out…

SS: Why did Heather leave the group?

CC: Heather fell in love and moved to Glasgow, so for practical reasons Tom and I have to carry on as a duo. It makes it interesting enough to figure out when Tom and I can get together to record/play/tour with our living in different places in the same country! Heather’s busy with solo playing, her duo Taurpis Tula and running the Volcanic Tongue mail-order outlet.

SS: You’ve stated in past interviews that you hate touring, yet Charalambides has definitely been more active in the past few years. What kinds of playing environments do you prefer?

TC: We love touring now and will play almost anywhere. Though it’s nice if there’s a receptive audience (size is less important than the level of attention). Parties are great, but so are bars if the mood is right. Community art spaces are great, as long as you can drink. One of the reasons we were so deeply uncomfortable with live performance before was because we simply weren’t experienced or structured or confident enough to play decent sets every time. Nor were we really sure what we wanted to do live, or how we could even go about figuring it out. What finally worked for us was paring everything down to the basics: guitar and voice. And then gradually becoming able to shed expectations of what we should sound like and listening to what we were actually able to do well. Coming up with very basic and open ended songs also helped.

SS: What is in the immediate future for Charalambides in terms of tours, releases, reissues, etc.? What long-term plans are ahead?

CC: We’re probably doing a short tour of Europe/the UK in May of 2005 and recording a new album for Kranky at some point in the near future. Long term plans are more of the same; recording, playing. And to continue to get some more older albums in print through Kranky.

TC: I’m working on a new solo record, kind of more along the lines of Root King than the CD-Rs were. I also have the collaboration projects mentioned in one of the above questions. Beyond that, who knows? I would like to do an extensive and comprehensive solo tour someday soon, one that lasts for weeks and weeks. Obviously having a job makes that a bit of a pipe dream at the moment but I’m leaving the possibility open at least.

Select Discography:
– Our Bed Is Green CS-90 (No Label, 1992)
– Union LP (Siltbreeze, 1993)
– Historic 6th Ward CS-90 (No Label, 1994)
– Our Bed is Green CD (Paper sleeve – Reissued with jewel box in 1997) (Wholly Other, 1995)
– Market Square 2LP (Siltbreeze, 1995)
– Historic 6th Ward CD (Wholly Other, 1996)
– Charalambides CD (Wholly Other, 1997)
– Houston CD (Siltbreeze, 1998)
– Internal Eternal CD (Wholly Other, 1999)
– Sticks CD-R (Wholly Other, 2000)
– Home CD-R (Wholly Other, 2000)
– Branches Lathe LP (Eclipse, 2001)
– Water CD-R (Wholly Other, 2001)
– YIH CD-R (Carbon, 2001)
– “Second Rehearsal” on Songs From the Entopic Garden Volume 2 Split LP (with Six Organs of Admittance) (Timelag, 2001)
– Historic 6th Ward 2LP (Timelag, 2002)
– Untitled CD-R (with Scorces)( Wholly Other, 2002)
– Being As Is CD-R (Crucial Blast, 2002)
– CHT CD-R (Wholly Other, 2002)
– Live Hand Held CD-R (Wholly Other, 2002)
– IN CR EA SE 2LP (Eclipse, 2002)
– Ana/Kata 10″ EP (Beta Lactam Ring, 2002)
– Unknown Spin LP/CD (Kranky)
– Joy Shapes LP/CD (Kranky, 2004)

Christina Carter:
– L’Etoile de Mer CS (Freedom From, 2001)
– Living Contact CD-R (Wholly Other, 2001)
– Hand & Mind CD-R (Wholly Other, 2002)
– Future in Past CD-R (Wholly Other, 2002)

Tom Carter:
– Monument CD-R (W.O., 2001)
– Appearance on A Yellow Flower CD by Pip Proud (Emperor Jones, 2001)
– Catch a Cherub CD with Pip Proud (Emperor Jones, 2002)

Heather Leigh Murray:
– Ash Castles on the Ghost Coast CD (Wholly Other/Fleece, 1996)
– Cuatro + Vocal Recordings CDR (Wish Image, 2002)

Scorces:
– Scorces CD (Wholly Other, 2001)
– “Crow Feet” on Untitled CD-R (with Charalambides) (Wholly Other, 2002)