Cerca:marion cousin

Soul To Burn features highly inventive and memorable avant-rock songs by trio of celebrated musicians, Reciprocate. The germ of the notion that would flower into Soul To Burn came when Reciprocate’s vocalist/guitarist Stef Kett reflected on the idea of funk rock. It ought, he thought to himself, be the best of genres but so often in practice it ends up being the poorest. True enough. Kett decided to approach the problem from a fresh angle, multiple fresh angles, grinding angles, creating an “alt-soul” in which the soul gets to stretch and burn, applied with the power of a rock’n’roll trio but dynamism and agility, rather than cumbersome bulkiness. Reciprocate is a super-group made up of highly celebrated musicians from the UK DIY music scene – their singular, searing-hot power conjured by Stef Kett (Shield Your Eyes) in tandem with drummer Henri Grimes (Shield Your Eyes, Big Lad) and Marion Andrau (The Wharves, Underground Railroad) on bass. The result is the excellent Soul To Burn, which proceeds at a cadence all of its own, halting and blasting, ducking and weaving, zooming away from its distant cousins: Taste era Rory Gallagher or Mr Zoot Horn Rollo of Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band. That’s particularly evident on “Self Regarding Floor Sweepings”, with echoes of “When Big Joan Sets Up” from Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica, especially with Kett’s added harmonica as the trio hit the winding dirt track, slaloming and swerving. Here is an album of full throttle soul, an avant-rock made up of ear worms so intoxicating they borrow from deep in the mind down deeper into the heart – it’s the cool, weighty groove of Tony Joe White leathering it at full throttle, fuelled by virtuosic back beats that remind of somewhere between the rolling rock of Mitch Mitchell and the fractured noisebeat of Lightning Bolt’s Brian Chippendale: immediate, innovative, virtuosic, exhilarating. Key to the impact of Soul To Burn is Grimes’ drumming, a force unto itself, which sometimes feels like it’s engaged in a creative and playful tussle with Kett’s virtuosic vibrato guitar. Take “Rhodia”, which sounds initially like a radical reworking, an anagram of Free’s “All Right Now”, on which Grimes doesn’t so much hit the groove as hammer it into the ground. Reciprocate tend to be averse to mere repetition, too full as they are of ideas, possibilities. But they know how to hit a riff, as on “Pissed Hymn”. Kett’s vocals are unconventionally impassioned - no vibrato or performative hollering. Rather they climb, up and and again up from the pit of the soul. There’s a sense throughout that this music is hard wrought, squeezed through small apertures, produced against the odds, born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards. There are quieter moments, however, such as the exquisitely beautiful “Ressypressocate”, which affirm the ultimately tender place from where this album proceeds, notes plucked like black flowers, twisted and cherished. Reciprocate demonstrate an astonishing virtuosity, nuance and musical sensitivity manifested through their deep mutual understanding and synergetic interactions. There are moments of sync and camaraderie that remind of the very late Beatles, those rare moments during the Let It Be Era when they loosened up, reassumed their old understanding. But then Kett’s lets fly with a long, looming note and suddenly we’re somewhere else again. With Soul To Burn, Reciprocate set out their stall of intoxicating, super catchy good-time, big heart music – a human album delivering a human message of love and love lost. By the album’s end, you’ll feel pushed and pulled through the mill, wiped out, blissfully exhausted, strangely serene

Repress.

If God had a disco, the DJ would be playing California gospel-soul group The Supreme Jubilees. 'We won't have to cry no more,' the tuxedo-clad group would sing, in high, angelic vocals over smooth grooves. 'It'll all be over.' Prepare to dance and contemplate death all at the same time.

A band of brothers and cousins, the group was founded from two familes: brothers Joe and Dave Kingsby plus Dave's son David Kingsby Jr., and keyboardist Leonard Sanders plus his brothers Phillips (drummer), Tim (bassist), and Melvin (tenor). The Sanders clan grew up singing together in the Witness of Jesus Christ church in Fresno CA, where dad Marion was pastor. Guitarist Larry Price-who belonged to neither family-completed the line-up that recorded the group's first-and, prophetically, only-album, It'll All Be Over.

Released in 1980 on the group's own S&K (Sanders & Kingsby) label, It'll All Be Over pinpoints a fatalistic mood exemplified by the title. Its lyrics drawn from the Old Testament, its sound from the church by way of the disco, and it's a feel captured by the album cover-a low, orange sun setting over the Pacific ocean. It is, as Jessica Hundley observes in the brand new liner notes, 'both apocalyptic and seductive.'

Making the album was not easy. Sessions began in Trac Record Co, a country and western studio in Fresno, CA, where the engineer was so put out by the group's requests for heavier bass in the mix, he stopped the session and kicked them out. They left with four songs-one side of the album-and the record was completed at Sierra Recording Studio in Visalia, CA. Leonard Sanders reported having a spiritual encounter in his sleep while in Visalia; the next day he recorded his part of the album's title track in a single take.

After the LP was pressed, the group took their music on tour, first in California, where they played with acts including the Gospel Keynotes, The Jackson Southernaires, and the Mighty Clouds of Joy, and then on an ill-fated trip to Texas. A follow-up album was planned for 1981, but it never materialized; having slept sometimes a dozen to a room in Texas, the men in the band were reluctant to leave jobs, wives, and kids for the hardship of the road. The group simply fizzled out, even if the friendships never did. 

A copy of the album sold to a fan on that Texan tour made its way to a San Antonio record store, where it was discovered nearly three decades later by collector David Haffner (Friends of Sound). He managed to track down the Kingsby-Sanders clan at a Fourth Of July barbeque in Fresno in 2004. And he eventually introduced the group to Light In The Attic Records, which now presents the album, restored, remastered, and available to the public for the first time.

Catalina Matorral is a duo; Marion Cousin and Borja Flames make up its double head and four hands. At the beginning of the 2010s, they were called June et Jim -- they released some disturbing EPs before joining the label Le Saule (a small, chivalrous table whose holy grail is everything unheard, where folk- singing is avant-garde and avant-garde is synonymous with enchantment). Their first LP, Les Forts (2012), evoked the songwriting of indie-hobos inspired by Latin America, contributing to the rejuvenation of French music. Noche Primera (2013) went even further by vibrating in various reveries, from African songs to Spanish medieval music, from Purcell to Bach. It blew hot and cold under a psychedelic candlelight. The record in question has been maturing for seven years in eccentric barrels, marinating in the shadow of Marion and Borja's respective evolutions, nourished by their individual obsessions. Marion fixated on songs and dances from the Iberian Peninsula. This gave birth to a minimalistic, organic record featuring the cellist Gaspar Claus, where humming trembles among frowning pizzicatos, thin drones and throbbing arpeggios. She went on to release another album with the electronic duo Kaumwald, an oeuvre at the crossroads of vernacular narratives and experimental music, simmering everyday songs in an insolently modern production. Meanwhile, Borja leaned towards an intellectual, synthetic and furious pop; made two albums to awaken the dead, somewhere between Moondog and Battiato. They are two conceptual, electrifying and dance-inducing recordings for the phosphorescent masses. ...chimeric narration, heady verses, pop fragments, horizontal synths, distorted technologies. One would think they're listening to an opera composed by Robert Ashley or Laurie Anderson, based on an improbable libretto written by anthropologist Jeanne Favret-Saada, and performed by holograms of Brigitte Fontaine and Areski -- who unexpectedly regurgitate bits of blunt folk, binary jazz, baroque songs and ghostly madrigals. Micro-events, great enchantments. This record was written and recorded by two people, tinkering feverishly for seven years. It was blessed with the furtive appearances of faithful friends: Gaspar Claus played the cello; Igor Estrabol the clarinet, trumpet and flugelhorn; Renaud Cousin the drums; Ernest Bergez played the violin and whimsically mixed the tracks like a bonesetter-scientist. At the crossroads of worlds, eras and moods, Catalina Matorral invents a curiously rural science fiction that confounds poetry with white magic and puts French music in a permanent tension between the cosmos and manure...

Papiro’s approach to music is never technical, but always personal. Since the mid-Nineties, he has released a handful of noteworthy albums, each carefully put together and seemingly self- contained, yet all sharing an unmistakable musical language and a certain escapist aura.

La finestra dentata (The Toothed Window), is no exception. It includes both studio and concert recordings from 2016–2020. The sounds on this album appear infinite and full of marvels, ingenious in portraying imaginary creatures and environments.

The title track and Anelli take up most of the first side and include live outtakes. Papiro likes to describe his performances as therapeutic. These swirly symphonies are specifically intended as immersive deep-listening experiences for concert venues, and have been edited for this album to meet the physical demands of vinyl and domestic use. Imagine the younger cousins of Laurie Spiegel’s Concerto Generator performance, or Terry Riley’s Shri Camel.

However, those who know Papiro only from the stage might be unaware of a different side to his oeuvre; starry-eyed miniatures that may appear frivolous in comparison to the more heady stuff, but are nonetheless well worth discovering. Each piece adds a chapter to a phantasmagoric world populated by such characters as "Giant Duckling", "King Hard-Beard", or the "Bodulator". Tracks like the opener Odilon or Il triciclo nascosto, meanwhile, emanate a candor rarely found in the domain of serious music, and revisit Papiro’s early days of instrumental storytelling.

About Papiro:

Marco Papiro is a Swiss-Italian musician, composer and graphic designer. He teaches at the Schule für Gestaltung in Basel and is known for the posters and album covers that he's created for a number of prolific artists (Sun Araw, Sonic Boom, Panda Bear, Oren Ambarchi)