Music: Coupler "America in the Coming Age of Electronics" LP

The title of this record sounds like an Epcot exhibit and that's pretty appropriate given the sound. All USA Futurism circa 1970 World's Fair: sloped white plastic walls, egg-shaped chairs, discreet control panels and it's, for the most part, strikingly gorgeous, patient music from Ryan Norris, who also plays a prominent role in Hands Off Cuba.

"The Valley of the Elders" opens Side 1 with a subtle drone before a warbling Melotron voice enters, lulling and plaintive and absolutely arresting. It's all, to some extent, "Ambient" music, but as the lead-off's title suggests, "Ambient" in the vein of Jon Hassell, Side 2 of "Low" or some of Joe Zawinul's more tasteful electronic outings, i.e. no New Age bullshit. Needless to say, Brian Eno is a major reference point, really a jumping-off point, because none of this is lazy emulation or overly derivative of his many experiments and collaborations from the 1970s.

Second track, "Ton" is especially affecting in its slow, one-finger/12-tone synth rumination but is curious for its lack of detail regarding instrumentation in the liner notes. While Moog synth, Acetone organ and Space Echo all get name checked on other tracks, some of the notes merely refer to "programming" or anonymous "synth bass", etc. Whether this is a symptom of Norris's dismissive/ashamed(?) attitude toward non-vintage/digital(?) instruments or a means-to-mystery is arguable. But this is the Age of Electronics Already Come, and the detuned oscillators on "Ton" and filtered buzz on "Swarm", be they from a VST plugin or 50-year-old wooden box, are among the most complex and invigorating here.

The side closes with the buzzing arpegiation of the afore mentioned "Swarm", the album's first beat-oriented track and in between is every manner of electronic "treatment" (the liners' term) of haunting vocal samples courtesy Forrest Bride's Amy Marcantel, sparkling acoustic guitar, horn and synthesizer.
Side 2 which opens once again with Melotron Voice and, Jesus Christ, that sound is just so good. Fucking Melotron, man. The world would be more beautiful if every Goodwill and Southern Thrift had one or two of these instead of cheap church organs, but I suppose their scarcity adds to the allure. Norris and compatriots blend the aching tape-keyboard with lush drones and sinewy organ sounds perfectly. Nothing sounds out of place.

The rest of the record feels a little less deliberate, a little more "Ambient for Ambient's sake" perhaps, with trem-panned Rhodes piano, Moog Opus and heavilly tremoloed guitar all getting features, though album-closer "Sehnsucht" develops with a rather nice chord progression and old-worldy organ that reminisces slightly of Norris's contributions to noir folkers, Lambchop.

Ultimately a really beautful vinyl debut from one of Nashville's best side-experimentalists. Made in Canada label. Classy art work. Highly Recomended!

Music: Lady Cop EP

Forgotten turn-of-the-mellenium Nashville hardcore. Total bash shit; these guys make the other local punk band with "Cop" in their name sound like Jimmy Buffett. Or, I mean made...

10 songs spread over two sides of the 33 RPM 7" means hit it and quit it, but every song develops and changes, living up to the old Gregg Ginn adage about punk music being "just as long any other songs", just played much faster.

Side 1 rips in with "Declaration of Offense", immediately setting the tone of blitzkrieg speed and in-the-red sonics and OK, these songs aren't too different from most quality hardcore, but lead vocalist, Lukin Nunn's piercing tenor really delivers. You can practically hear blood in his throat as he tears through the flesh of every track with just a hint of Jello Biafra vibrato.

Side 2 opener "Narcotic Painkiller" is hands-down the best song, featuring a descending bass lead and frequent stops like your banging head smashing into the sweaty-backed-dude in front of you. The cheesy light-strummed intro to "Punks in Love" provides a brief respite from the torrent of speed-rock, but the pummeling "Uh Huh Baby No" closes the EP with an abortion tale (I think? It's really hard to discern any of the lyrics...) that's true to form for any real "punks in love".

Nashville's own Twitch Records (home to Asschapel... OK where do I find an Asschapel record?)

Music: Leather Nightmare EP

Ugly sentiments, but this thing starts off kind of up-beat, actually! "Dead Little Whore" is four-chord chant-punk and pretty raging in that numb, face-down kind of way, droney diminished chords and shit.

"Drink at the Water" is a little rustier but holds up the rest of side 1 fairly well, following a similar formula of deadpan vocal delivery and scorched-buzz instrumentation.

The recording is pretty crude, necessarily, and continues in Hag Bloom Tapes' (boutique/vanity label run by LN bassist, Nathan Vasquez,) tradition of cassette-recorded purity/mess.

Side 2 starts with a screech of feedback before chugging into an amorphous gallop with the beat and hihat-off-beats alternatingly emphasized. It all settles in during the first verse as vocalist, Reid Barber reiterates his fascination with perversity: "Leather Daddy's Cock".

B/W photocopied sleeve, a hooded Gimp says, "Come at me, bro." Right on.

Music: Stephen Molyneux "Cambodian Feild Recordings" tape

I'm not certain what I'm supposed to hear here but it's absolutely mesmerizing.

The scenes that unfold over the course of this too-short cassette are all entirely ambiguous. One presumes that street scenes, social dances and sacred music all collide, but these are merely presumptions. The musics' origin is mysterious, and this in-itself is overwhelming.

Add to the foreign instrumentation and forms, the use of lo-fidelity recording techniques that at times suggest additional delay-effects and looping, (or is it natural reverberation? The ambiguity enhances the overall effect,) and you get a consciousness-enveloping throb of music that defies expectation.

"World Music" is not really the correct moniker, as the sounds of rolling wheels, rumbling engines, wind, conversations and random microphone noise interfere with the throaty singing, flutes and unrecognizable percussion and stringed instruments that make up the "musical" parts of the tape. And musically, it's mostly consonant (albeit Eastern-pentatonic) music, but combined with the field-recording elements, this thing is more bewlidering than a lot of "Noise" music I've heard.

Totally unique and well-combined collage from Molyneux (also of Horsehair Everywhere, Poet Named Revolver) on No Kings. Definitely Recomended!

Music: T.V. John "The Dream Man" tape

Sort of a "Songs in the Key of Z"-styled outsider artist, "T.V." John Langworthy's lyrics supposedly come to him in his dreams.

Here, he bellows them over poppy garage rock instrumentation that's well-performed but delves into the kind of "Exile on Main Street" derivation that we Nashvillians are inundated with to the point of... Eh, who cares?

The guy's (questionably) Weirdo persona is obfiscated by the ultra-conventional Rock ensemble, assembled by Black Tooth Records (members of local popsters Fly Golden Eagle, Majestico.) Wesley Willis this is not.

Weird as T.V. John may be, his super-banal lyrics are maybe good for a quick chuckle, but nothing close to shocking, revalatory or pure. On camera he comes off a little more like a luny, but the record is all rock-chops without depth.

Pro-recorded, poorly-dubbed cassette that is for some reason shrinkwrapped...

Music: Unicorn Hard-On / Container split 12"

This one cropped up on quite a few people's best of 2011 lists, (along with Container's also-great deput LP on Spectrum Spools,) for good reason. This is three tracks of precisely controled machine-music. The power of organization is, to some degree, allowed to the humans. But the sounds are all Terminator fucking metal and plastic.

Unicorn Hard-On's side starts hardest. Stomping digital kick and hi-hat sounds open as digitally destroyed vocal-wailing smears all across the top. We assume it's Valerie Martino's voice, but it's so removed from anything human, wordless and desperate. Maybe it's the hungry "Persian Cat" of the song's title. When the sequenced bass and Hoover-esque lead synths creep in, they are welcome, orienting devices, familiar tropes. But as they repeat, nasty lazer blasts and pink noise bury them, creating a crazed din of mechanized sound.

"Wildfire Girls" is a little less punishing as far as overall noise levels go, but it features similarly disorienting vocals, (really, Martino's trademark and forte,) and squiggly synth dollops that sound far-removed from pre-Skynet Earth-music.

On his side, Container (Ren Schofield) plays with the classic Techno "Boom-Chick" sound, but bubbling echo-synth and syn-tom syncopation prevent you from entering that hypnotized state associated with Minimal Tech. The sounds are penetrating from the begining, and at the track's climax, they're downright pulverizing. Like a robot using your head as a speed-bag, the effect is disorienting and brutal up to the track's denouement.

The robot's voice has been repeating for a while now: "Cauter-i-i-ize," smearing downward. Its granular, inhuman provocation is insulting or encouraging, one. "Do it. Hold the red-hot metal to your open wound." It knows you can't go through with it. You are a human, weak, un-evolved. This music is the Singularity on wax. It is a fucking breakthrough man.

The sleeve art is mesmerizing and acts as a perfect foil for the abbrasiveness found on the wax. This woman is just taunting you through some psychedelic Women's Magazine haze. Valerie and Ren are taunting you. They are at the finish line. The singularity. The machines have accepted them and allowed them to release this harbinger of the future. The machines are in charge from this point forward. Get used to it. Highly Recomended!

Music: Frothy Shakes "Killed by Death #11" LP

First the history: ostensibly a collection of South-Eastern US punk singles recorded between 1977 and 1982, from such never-knowns as Sexy Fits, Orgy Poppers, Curly Fries, Horny Toads, you get the idea... from Redrum Records, Norwegian curator of the original "KBD" compilations. Essay on the back describes the bands via session recording anecdotes from the (supposed) Producer of every track, one Bill "Smackroot" Jackson.

Real talk: this LP is the work of (and sole vinyl artifact of) 90s-Nashville, non-touring out-punkers, Frothy Shakes. Three of the twelve tracks on the LP are credited to them, but, like the other, fake bands, their description in the liners is the kind of inflated drug-babble you get from a Harmony Korine art opening.

Here's the thing: this record has been maligned by some of the three-chord, Chuck Berry-worshipping purveyors of "KBD", who also have gotten the facts wrong, but this only gives new credence to the trashily bizarre fucking music these guys were making circa 1996.

Side 1 is three songs: first one is tape-warp rambling, last one is simple Noise "Rawk", but in the middle is "Stay in Shape with the Orgy Poppers" (by the Orgy Poppers, duh,) a high, Fausty, pretty lengthy track of subdued maniacal spirit. It's all rambling drudge-chorded while singer David Russell convinces you completely of things he really isn't even saying. All nonsense insanity, your nodding in bewildered agreement turns into head-bobbing groove-getting-along-with. It's twisted waste-rock.

Side 2 starts with those "official" Frothy Shakes tunes. First (like with Side 1) an a capella loop titled "Sad Clown". "Pickup Truck" gets into the fiery 90s skuzz you probably love too, but "Benzene" is where we really hear the Shakes command of their potty-punk forte. Subdued four-beat and palm-muted power chords interfere with your brain waves while the bass adds dissonant commentary. Russell's vocals are conversationally (albeit party-conversation/ drunker than you,) sing speaking until the song's only hook: "Eh eh eh eh eh eh eh eh" falsetto God-gibberish. It's unspeakably beautiful.

The rest of the record continues in the same vein. Only "Ladies Home Urinal" (by Betty Binns, ostensibly) grips to some post-dated rock trope. Everything else is pretty much beauty-scuzz/true punk/non-rock.

The actual details about this release are fuzzy, but you can definitely still buy these directly from the Shakes here... Edition of 500(?) Highly Recomended!

Music: Horsehair Everywhere "Volume 1" tape

Perceived self-seriousness (needs jokes) freely-improvised non-jazz-folk.

Sporadically interesting tape that's mostly forgivable where it wanders too far. They stay well enough away from Pop-Tribalism for most of the running time.

And there are some highlights: mostly when you get down to only two or three abstracted instruments. For instance, around halfway through side 2 we dip out into just a couple shouters, muted trumpet and arhythmic drumming that stays sparse while distorted shakers and Z.H. Rollo-slide guitar edge through the crowd.

At other times the sheer density of eleven people playing disorganizedly and all at once makes such an overwhelming cacophony that critical faculties are rendered ineffective, and with music like that, you just kind of lean back and enjoy how unpleasant everything is.

Divergences into folky guitar and harmony vocals are the weakest parts of the album, but luckily this is cut together from a whole lot of "jams" so it's easy enough to wait out the boring bits.

It's decent background music if you dig NNCK et al, but a lot of the members have been involved in more interesting projects. No Kings label.

Music: Various Artists "The Neighbors are Dead" double LP

God couldn't strike Murfreesboro lower than it already is, but from the depths comes this compilation of alternating beauty and pure obnoxiousness thru lo-fi live recordings.

All in all a pretty good summary of the music you could find most weekends on the Murfreesboro house show circuit pre-2009, (or whenever Animal Collective caused a bunch of would be out-musicians to turn Pop and ultimately sound just like Animal Collective.)

The recording quality is pretty uniform, (shit,) and suits most of this music fairly well. It's all in-your-face nastiness, (save a couple diversions into folk and delicate found sounds on side 1,) and hits you with the all-nite party vibe that went hand-in-hand with these shows.

Listening to the whole thing can get a bit tedious but there are some really amazing highlights, especially Who is Jackie Sheets' busted drum machine racket, Brown Swarm's ridiculous mess of wheezing electronics and drums, and the heady fuzz-wash of Lazer Slut's "White Sands."

There are solid cuts from Terror'ish, Deluxin' (circa "No Shit" left-feild hardcore), Most Amazing Century of Science (serious Naked City-worship), German Castro, High on Life and Meth Dad too.

The photo-collage outer sleeve depicts such images as Lazerslut's side-scrotum, Terror'ish smoking a cigarette and Meth Dad demonstrating questionable fashion sense via hat, (or more specifically, upturned bill.)

A really good listen/well-done archival release from Private Leisure Industries, a label dedicated to preserving the sounds and sentiments and loose architecture of Murfreesboro's glory years. Recomended!

Music: R. Stevie Moore "Advance" LP

This 14-song-wax item, a little too studied over, is just a drop in the bucket...

Of songs since then and around then, we're lead to believe. Fair enough.

There are in fact some gems here: for some of them you have to hold your nose and dig in cause they can be pretty sugary, see "Runny Nose, Money Woes", "Pop Music". But these are sort of your "Classic RSM" jams that I guess are what the money pays for. Unfortunately, we get no examples of the dude's preoccupations with performance art and impromptu poetry, that've been on display at recent live gigs around town. I'd also suggest there's a little too much respect paid to the influences, i.e. it's sometimes kind of derivative-feeling.

The first side feels lonelier and more interesting on the two left feild collaborations/covers. The lead off track is a tune by fusion/late-jazz guitarist, Ralph Towner called "Icarus", done alone, with computerized everything: MIDI keys and my-first-drum-machine, it's odd and fogey-ish in a good way.

There's also a Lennon-esque co-writership called "Theorum" with Lane Steinberg and Roger Ferguson, whoever they are.

Side 2 begins with some bubblegum/doowop pastiche but really hits its stride with the one-two-punch of album highlights "Kix Tarter Sauce" and "Me, Too". "Kix" is a subdued instrumental that really showcases Moore's talent for precise, efficient songwriting. It kicks around for like four minutes on just a few restrained guitar riffs and eventually, suddenly turns into "Me, Too", one of the most fantastically maniacal RSM pop numbers since "Schoolgirl". It's a lust-fueled Rhodes-rocker with quick drum-work that occasionally misses the changes, fully punk. (It's also one of only two tracks here recorded alone at home in classic RSM fashion.)

The production is a little off-putting. Gone are the multiple reel-to-reel recorders, in their place, clean, uncompressed digital recording that comes off a little un-nuanced. Still a pretty decent entry into the catalogue. Those unfamiliar with Moore have their work cut out. Don't start here.

Crowd funded, non-recycled material.

Music: Leslie Keffer "Whorny 4 U" tape

Heavy distortion-bubbles from tape or table, very graceful, gently ambiguous whirring synths fold in and out of the fuzz, all blissful and alive and horny.

Side 1 gets denser toward the end, few notes on out-of-phase cassette loops loom in and side 2's right off with it, chugging and wheezing along.

All in... Dense... Eventually LK's voice emerges, swathed in phasers and filters, like steam rising from the jungle. It's pure-seeming and guady, like teenage love. It's very becoming.

Pretty affective white-wall-of-sound/stoner-lectronics from LK on Tusco/Embassy, 2008. Still available(?!) from Fusetron.

Music: Big Nurse "Temporarily Unavailable" LP

Bludgeoned non-music/stoned "Noise" jams. Side 1 is pretty bliss/fluxed out computer sound, though all instrumentation is straight out of Rolling Stones circa 1973, +Bobby Keys.

Saxophone, a nasty little bitch-snake on Side 2, is spare and buried on Side 1, eliciting the Jazz-pathos, liberal-punk, and it works in the studied disdain-dissonant-drudge, add serpent a little at the end...

There are becoming, quieter moments on Side 1... By the way, I'm calling one side of the unmarked vinyl "Side 1" only because it appears (superficially) to be comprised of two tracks, versus only one track on "Side 2," the traditional one-track-side.

High Density Headache, nice brown paper inserts with screenprinted art.

Music: The Cherry Blossums LP

Not everyone in Nashville is a sucker for that rustic, historic-gaze folk sound. I'm not. But Cherry Blossums only border that naivety-blessed semi-vacant genre/zone. Their zone is a non-archy, but settled, comfortable and understanding.

While dreadnaught guitar and harmonicas ramble away, underground tom-toms gallop and plod with an Almost-Eastern feel, rippling under the folks' songs above. And so the Folk convention is lulled into a deeply hipnotic, throbbing trestle.  Odd percussion and things like whistles and suddenly-remembered mandolins appear, and seem pleased, and take their leave. They run across the tracks. The band is constantly churning and buzzing beneath the unfettered minstrelism.

You're told to "Sell your love for rocks and stones... and money." All irony of course, then they warn about getting weighed down, and killed man. It's a lattice of Pure Goodnature. Rolling along, repeating.

"History shows agian and again, how Nature points out the folly of Man." I'm not sure if this is a theme in the film, Godzilla. It may well be. Whether it is or isn't, Cherry Blossums bend and mend their eco-psychic lyricism with a cover of Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla", a song loosely based on the film probably. They also cover-sort-of the Old Dirty Bastard at the begining of "Glow, Jesus, Glow", a song that pops rhythmically at first, then sort of dissolves in hippy-vamp whacked-outness and liquidity. Then the end of the song becomes a sort of revival: John Allingham's grunts like Tongues and Peggy Snow's flirty wailing becomes the wild-afro'd preacher. Glow!

Collaboratively released, thoroughly replayable Old Weird Nashville. Recomended!

Music: Bad Cop "Stevie Nix" tape

Bad Cop's songs are simple-ish but they're pretty ugly, at least sometimes and that lends to phased interest/disinterest louch.

Side 2 starts off especially twisted with brass Wire-y instrumentation and Snotty vocals recorded through some kind of melting effect I think. I can hear everything melting.

I'm OK with the way this whole thing sounds (Garageband,) more or less. Recorded carelessly, (presumably,) everything's bleeding into every mic a bit and it all sounds pretty creeped out/live.
"Wet Lips" is all Cramps. You get a lot of that, basic references.

By the way, this is a six song EP (short songs... Two on side-B cut off before they even end.) dubbed onto 60-minute Maxell Type II cassette/probably other, spare tapes. So, in addition to the EP you get some 45+ minutes of Frank Sinatra's Greatest Hits.

More Pogo reheshing later on.

Self released on the Jeffrey Drag label. Named after a lady songwriter, more importantly, a beautiful person, Stevie Nicks.