Audio By Carbonatix
This will come as a shock to all you earnest local entrepreneurs and so-called scene boosters who have released, or are planning to release, a multi-band compilation, but no one gives a shit about another crummy regional sampler. Aside from, of course, that big-haired metal chick who pestered you to include an “exclusive track” from the washed-up hacks she manages.
As a recovering compiphiliac, I shudder whenever a new anthology arrives in the post (and practically breaking out in herpes sores if it’s a tribute album). Being a 12-stepper necessarily involves some backsliding and outright deceit, however, so indulge a few brief guilty pleasure comments about a trio of comps that definitively counter the bad karma most collections conjure. Just don’t tell my sponsor that I’m slumming; he’ll probably accuse me of begging that promo of the Ken Burns Jazz boxed set.
Camera Obscura is an extraordinarily cool Australian label whose sonic specialties — free-form psychedelia, pristine pop, pastoral folk — have endeared it to collectors ’round the globe during its near-decade existence. The second volume in CamOb’s intensely pleasurable, aptly named Serotonin Ronin series essays artists appearing on its last 14 releases, from Northwest power-pop kings Green Pajamas and Syd Barrett acolytes Abunai! to ambient folk-goths Our Glassie Azoth and free-jazz fusioneers Rake. Typically, the label services the “out-rock” needs of its constituency, which, for reasons unclear, tends to be older (say, late 20s to late 40s) and hailing from the U.S. and the U.K. but rarely from its home continent. (A lively Internet discussion list hosted by the label tends to reflect a similar demographic. Curiously, everyone on the list either lives in, once lived in, or wishes they lived in Houston.) Further setting the label apart: Early on, it established the Camera Obscura MP3 Singles Club, offering free monthly downloads of exclusive tracks from its artists. And here, on SRII‘s Disc 2, you, the gentle consumer, can avail yourself of 13 choice selections from that singles club. Highlights include a luscious, arcane-textured folk ditty from Houston’s Charalambides (now based in Austin), the mantric psych of Doldrums (song title: “Mahatma Wants His Rice Back”) and some East Coast stoner rock from Tadpoles. While you seek out this fine compilation (the label has distribution stateside via Carrot Top in Chicago), consult the CamOb Web site, where more MP3s can be snagged, at www.cameraobscura.com.au.
Another class act in the “we’ve got better taste than 90 percent of the biz but we don’t flaunt it” sweepstakes is Britain’s Earworm, coming up on its fifth year of hotly tipping unknowns, go-nowheres and no commercial potentials. Whoa — were those limited-edition Yo La Tengo and Flying Saucer Attack 45s you spotted in the label’s discography? Sorry you missed ’em. The Tell-Tale Signs of Earworm, similar to SRII, is a double-disc comp pulling together a slew of out-of-print singles tracks and assorted exclusives. And like Camera Obscura, the Earworm focus tends to run along psych, folk and ambient lines. The sweet femme-pop of Novak, the drifting soundscapes of Magnetophone, the Aphex Twin maneuverings of Fridge, the drone-psych of Jon & Dave (a pre-Flying Saucer Attack outfit), the baroque grooves of Elephant 6 collectives the Minders, the Fall-esque postpunk of Southall Riot — never heard of ’em? Well, what’re you waiting for? Shoot the label an e-mail note at domearworm@coynet.com and tell ’em that New Times sent ya.
Most likely you’ll have encountered or heard of several artists on The POT Machine Turns You On; shout boy howdy! if you can spot the reference to a certain legendary late ’60s U.K. compilation series in the CD’s title. Familiar names include Flying Saucer Attack (credibly doing what the band calls a “Neil Young homage”), psychedelic mavens (and Hendrix disciples) the Bevis Frond, Welsh groove-rock pirates Man (with late Quicksilver guitarist John Cipollina — who also turns up on another track by the band Raven), legendary ex-punk belter Vic Conrad, and Sedona’s own sonic alchemists Scenic. Our old chums Abunai! from a couple of paragraphs back also turn up on the compilation, along with such intriguingly monikered performers as Crazy Alien, Broken Dog, and Ring. Musically speaking, the sounds hew toward the mind-expanding variety. Small wonder — Ptolemaic Terrascope is not a label, per se, but a U.K.-based publication whose reputation is impeccable among collectors: think in-depth features on Captain Beefheart, Spirit, Deviants, Jefferson Airplane, Kinks, Guided By Voices, Stars of the Lid, Flying Saucer Attack, and even the occasional Houston band. Not to mention ongoing coverage of bands that have appeared at the three annual “Terrastock” rock festivals, internationally acclaimed bashes initiated and hosted by the magazine. (The Terrascope is partners in crime with Camera Obscura in that same Internet discussion group mentioned earlier. No doubt Terrascope editor Phil McMullen has his eyes on some choice Houston waterfront property.) Hailing from the bustling burg of Melksham, Wiltshire, and listing none other than Nick Saloman of the Bevis Frond high on the editorial masthead, PT is up to issue #29, of which this CD is a free inclusion. You can’t get these tracks anywhere else, bubba, so again, what are you waiting for? Point those browsers at www.terrascope.org and prepare to have your inner eyelid peeled back.
