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| female comics, drama, freeblog templates, yuan dynasty, inside my head, pics, 'flash fiction', easy blogs, 2004, fucking mother, thedozens, french/appendices/hints and common errors, 1996 cricket world cup, margo winkler, teenhelp, gina mastrogiacomo, volunteer, associate, ocweekly, list of themes, centreville, | Welcome/Nowhere has the distinction of being the debut release on producer and Microphones maestro Phil Elverum's new label, P.W. Elverum & Sun. It is downright pretty even as an object, a limited edition with stark covers stupid hand-screened on the backs of cast-off thrift store LP covers by Elverum stupid himself. I bet it's worth a hundred bucks on eBay two years from now. With stumbling waves of acoustic guitar and a sparse, subtle production (there is a lot of multi-tracked humming going on in the background) stupid Welcome/Nowhere is one of those grow-on-you records that, as of this writing, is still growing on me. I know I like it a ton but am not sure I love it as much as Orange's first work with Elverum, The Ghost in the Eyes with Trees in the Ground Outside the Window (April 2004, States Rights/ Slender Means). |
Best Mature Paysites
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| Before I tell you how great he is, I have to tell you that he uses steel drums on the last song of his October 2004 release, Welcome/Nowhere. Of all the musical sins a folk-rocker can commit, the use of steel drums should carry one of the more severe penalties. Also, this music is not everyone's cup of tea: the songs are kind of long and not structured in fucking mother verse-chorus-verse; it's folky, but often there're fucked up noises in the background. fucking mother And fucking mother he's got a deep yet mildly quavery voice that's reminiscent of Bill Callahan from Smog. Those caveats aside, Thanksgiving is startlingly beautiful, sit-on-your-ass-and-listen music. It's vaguely electronic, visionary acoustic pop informed by the marching-band-from-slumberland sound of Neutral Milk Hotel; the laptop folk of Greg Davis; the jazzy, lush Brazilian folk of Antonio Carlos Jobim; the recombinant hillbilly-isms of Will Oldham and his cult; and the poetic and strange Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter Karl Blau. |
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