Light In The Attic launches new imprint for ‘90s reissues, Modern Classics Recordings.

By Fred Mills

Unless your bag is something like, I dunno, Journey or Rihanna, you know the name Light In The Attic: just like the man on the TV says, you can trust your car to the man who wears the star, or in this case, you can trust your musical edification to the label with the dangling lightbulb. Pretty much anything that comes down the pipeline from the esteemed musicologists and archivists at LITA clicks with us at BLURT. (Case in point: the recent anthology of South Korean rocker Shin Joong Hyun, or those awesome reissues from Rodriguez.)

So now comes word that the label is branching out with a new imprint, Modern Classics Recordings, with a focus more on the semi-recent past, e.g., the Nineties. (Raise your hand if you read that sickening piece in USA Today this week about ‘90s nostalgia.) First up: Mercury Rev's 1998 album Deserter's Songs, to be followed by the 1993 classic by Morphine, Cure For Pain. Each will be pressed up on 180-gram vinyl - the first time either has been reissued on LP - boasting remastered sound  and deluxe gatefold packaging featuring new liner notes and interviews with the protagonists. A download card will be included as well, and in the case of the Mercury Rev platter, 100 random copies will contain an autographed photo of Grasshopper and Jonathan Donohue.

Here's what LITA co-owner Matt Sullivan had to say about the new label: The selections are "from our personal stash, as they came out. An era of those shiny, futuristic things called CDs and whatever bands were actually putting out vinyl in the '90s. I was born in '76 and we've never reissued much past that. These were the days of Reagan and the contras, sipping Everclear from cola war bottles between the Bushes, bouncing off our parent's walls to classics like Straight Outta Compton and Nevermind!"

He adds, "The goal with these elegant reissues via Modern Classics is to provide the same attention to detail that Light In The Attic has become known for, while having the artist involved in their re-release through extrapolative liner notes, helping to curate their unique historical importance and creative exceptionality, albums which snared the overflowing creativity of the zeitgeist in which they were released, and influenced the best semi-pop music for years to come."

Full details at the LITA website.

Contest ends Monday, Oct. 31, so don't delay.

By Blurt Staff

Rolling Stones fans, heads-up! We have a very special item to give away. You can win a copy of the newly released DVD from the Rolling Stones 4 Ed Sullivan Shows, a two-disc set containing the Sullivan performances from May 2, 1965; Feb. 13, 1966; Sept. 11, 1966; and Jan 15, 1967. (These are the full broadcasts, by the way.)

Read more details of the release elsewhere on the BLURT site.

What an amazing item. All you have to do is this: whoever is the biggest fan and "shares' this link with the most friends or gets the most "likes" to their post and gets the most friends to sign up to "like" this at our Facebook page will win the DVD. (Once you are at our Facebook page, scroll down until you spot the Stones DVD image pictured above.)

We will compile all three to see who wins. Contest ends Oct 31st. Get your friends to support you and why you should win this DVD...

Deerhunter's Bradford Cox returns in his solo guise with Parallax, out Nov. 8 on 4AD.

By Jhoni Jackson

As the original outlet for Deerhunter's Bradford Cox, Atlas Sound has always leaned toward the strange, fuzzy and abstract. But Cox sings a decidedly different tune on Parallax, making the title - which relates to a shift in perspective that makes background objects appear to move slower than those at the forefront - incredibly suiting.

Atlas Sound - Terra Incognita by stopshakehoneygo

The album is elaborately layered, lush and melodic, an obviously far stretch from the four volumes of Bedroom Databank recordings Cox released online. And though Cox found a more accessible sound on 2009's Logos, the LP has more in common with Halcyon Digest, Deerhunter's most recent offering. Though Cox maintains his signature subtle desolation, he's more self-assured than ever this time. Gentle introspection - instead of the outright melancholy he often exudes-paired with sway-worthy melodies make Parallax the most listenable Atlas Sound album to date.

Maybe that's not what Cox intended, but pushing the avant-garde wallowing into the background this time around is a surprising, lovely relief.

Contest ends this week!

By Blurt Staff

Matthew Sweet is kicking off his 20^th Anniversary Tour, playing all the faves as well as his classic album Girlfriend in its entirety - even the bonus tracks - with his crack band of Sweet-heads, the veteran Ric Menck-Paul Chastain rhythm section plus Dennis Taylor on guitar. On Oct. 31, Nov. 1 and Nov. 2 the tour hits NYC, and in honor of that, we've got a chance for you to win fabulous prizes. Yes, we said FABULOUS PRIZES.

Go to the BLURT Contest Page and fill out the form for your chance to be one of our winners. The prizes are:

*Grand Prize: 2 NYC Tickets, 20th Anniversary Tour Bundle + T-Shirt +  Vinyl (Signed) (Shows in NYC are Oct 31, Nov 1 & 2)

*1st Prize: 20th Anniversary Tour Bundle, excluding tickets (VIP Laminate, Poster, Early Venue Access, Soundcheck Party with Matthew Meet and Greet, digital copy of Modern Art)

*2nd Prize: Signed Vinyl

*3rd Prize: Signed CD

*4th Prize: T-Shirt

Meanwhile, check out our freewheeling interview with Sweet elsewhere on the BLURT site - it was conducted recently by Contributing Editor Lee Zimmerman. The two mutual power pop fans discuss Sweet's new album Modern Art, the reasoning behind the Girlfriend performances, the art of studio recording in the modern era, Sweet's pal Fred Armisen (who guests on the album), and loads more. Also, be watching for issue #11 of BLURT, hitting newsstands in mid-November - we have a special Sweet feature appearing in that as well.

Released this week on DVD and Blu-ray by Invincible Pictures, the NC-17 rated sex/torture porn flick ain't exactly one to watch with the kids. (Warning: film trailer below is fairly graphic.)

By Jonah Flicker

A Serbian Film's director, Srdjan Spasojevic, was bestowed a rare honor after the film was screened a few years ago at a festival in Spain - a charge of exhibiting child pornography and an arrest warrant issued by a Spanish prosecutor. Defenders of free speech and fellow purveyors of torture porn, including Eli Roth, were completely outraged by the charge. But it must be said that, while obviously none of the scenes depicted are real and the movie is definitely not a snuff film, A Serbian Film is by far one of the most extreme examples of the torture porn genre. It's a very difficult film to watch, all the more so for the fact that it's actually fairly well made, shot brilliantly and woven together expertly by its provocateur director. It rolls along ominously for the first 30 to 40 minutes, showing nothing more shocking than explicit sex that stops just short of actual penetration. But when the film hits, it hits hard and shies away from very little. If you find the concepts of murder by blowjob, decapitation during sex, and newborn porn disgusting, you are probably a fairly well balanced person. But you should also not watch this film, and perhaps you should stop reading this review now.

Srdjan Todorovic plays Milos, a retired porn actor who is trying to lead a normal family life, even if his young son occasionally finds and plays one of his sex DVDs in the living room. Just when he thought he was out, he gets sucked right back in - pun definitely intended - by a sinister character called Vukmir (Sergej Trifunovic), who is attempting to make art out of porn, or vice versa. He gives Milos very little details as to the plot of the film he's making, asking him to sign the contract blind so that his motivation will be natural and pure. Milos agrees, but soon regrets it. As they begin filming, unsettling scenarios play out, involving a woman who may not be just acting like she's been severely beaten, and her pre-teen daughter who watches Milos as he performs. By the time he's decided he's had enough, it's too late. After being drugged with a "cattle aphrodisiac," the violent sexual carnage really gets going in a shocking and disturbing manner.

Many scenes of the most extreme gore and graphic sex have been trimmed in order for the film to find distribution, including the aforementioned newborn porn scene and the horrifying climax. Even though it's all smoke and mirrors, as is the nature of the medium, the actions playing out are despicable and beyond disturbing. There is undoubtedly a point here, at least in the mind of the director, which probably has something to do with the violent and sexual nature of our society, and our complicity in it as both an audience and a consumer. Despite all of this, it's sometimes hard to see what all the fuss is about. The movie uses graphic but rather cheesy special effects to make its point, a tradition dating back to Texas Chainsaw Massacre, stretching through the Troma Studios output all the way to the Saw franchise. Each time something new comes along to push the boundaries, there is blowback. A Serbian Film happens to take it much farther than ever before, but such is the nature of provocative art. It's hard to see a redeeming social value through all the blood, violent sex, and cringeworthy imagery, but that's not necessarily the responsibility of any film director. The only real responsibility a director has is to make a picture that's coherent and entertaining, and A Serbian Film at least achieves the former.

Director: Srdjan Spasojevic

Cinematographer: Nemanja Jovanov

Stars: Srdjan Todorovic, Sergej Trifunovic, Jelena Gavrilovic

View the full trailer at www.invinciblepictures.com

San Fran's Grass Widow, plus openers Coasting, Troop of Echoes and Outdates, bring the girl power to the Flywheel in Easthampton, Mass., on October 17.

Text & photos by Jennifer Kelly

It's a pretty good night for girl power at the Flywheel. Grass Widow, maybe the best of the current crop of female-centric post-punkers, is here from San Francisco to headline, while Coasting, a guitar-and-drums duo from Brooklyn and Nashville that is just starting to make a splash, has the #2 slot. The locals on the bill are more gender neutral - with jazz-rock-fusionists Troop of Echoes holding down for the boys, and shout punk Outdates two-thirds male, but with a long-haired and ethereal looking girl bass player thumping out a Wipers-esque low-end.

Outdates are just finishing up when I arrive, their fast-charging punk rock in the aggressive-but-not-quite-thrashy mode of the Volcano Sons and, as I said, the Wipers. They're not bad, in a hard-shouted, righteous kind of way, playing right down on the floor, amid the kids, Marc Candilore leaning over the mic until he almost touches the nearest people, Andrew McCarthy drumming with full-arm-extended abandon, the bass player Ally Einbinder stoic-faced and resplendent in fishnets. Their last song starts in a bashing, smashing, freight-train attack on the drums, and a raucous, sped-up surf guitar riff that would make Dick Dale proud. Candilore stands motionless, mouth wide-open as he rants into the mic, the kids bouncing off each other and the pillars and the walls.

Troop of Echoes, next, is the only band on the bill to fall outside even the loosest definition of punk rock. They play in the jazz-into-prog-into-experimental territory of all those bands on the Cuneiform label, their grooves a little too complicated for jam, a little too warm and sunny for post-rock. It's like Tortoise, but for dancing (except that, admittedly, sometimes Tortoise is for dancing), the blare of sax wheeling in dissonant abandon over viscous, bouncy basslines.  The bass player, Harrison Hartley, is fun to watch, a big guy, totally enrapt in what he's going, bobbing, weaving, jumping up and down, banging on his four-strings with a borrowed drum stock, and not missing a lick, sometimes locked in dialogue with also-excellent drummer Daniel Moriarty.

The band's evident skill - and its reliance on Peter Gilli's alto and soprano sax for melodic flavor - makes them seem like a grown-up, slightly anarchic version of the world's best high school jazz band. They play an interestingly angular, rhythmically intriguing piece called "Golden Gears", and a slower, smoother, lite-jazzier one named after a city in Maryland. Guitar player Nicholas Cooper switches over to synth for "Little Bird," giving the band an even more pronounced fusion-y flavor, but not in any kind of chilled, hypertechnical, cerebral way. This is post-rock played with the same fever and joy as post-punk. The instruments are different but the enthusiasm is not.

Coasting comes on next, a pair of young women in lady-like summer dresses and flats, whose music is anything but prim. They are, specifically, Madison Farmer on guitar and Fiona Campbell on drums. Campbell lives in Brooklyn and has played with the Vivian Girls. Farmer lives in Nashville now, but the pair of them met in Brooklyn while both working for house show impresario Todd P. After helping out with a parade of DIY shows, the two caught the bug themselves, and Coasting has the rough-edged, rough-housing jubilance of the best kind of untutored music.

To begin with Fiona Campbell hits pretty hard at her kit, setting up rackety, locomotive cadences on tom and snares, then blowing them up with rapid-fire fills and rolls. Farmer is no wallflower either, scrubbing out angular, rubbed-out chord patterns and trading yelped, sung, shouted and spat-out vocal lines with Campbell. The two of them sing in strident unison sometimes, joining, at one point for a joyful, defiant chorus of "You've got that right." Still more often than not, they fill in each other's gaps, Campbell tossing a line out, Farmer tossing it back, guitar breaking into flourishes when the drums stop and drums exploding into sudden scraps of white space. There's an asymmetry to their melodies that you might associate with earlier post-punk bands - Delta 5 and Ut come to mind - but also a flirtation with softer, girl group forms of pop. They're not especially loud, this duo, but they have a kind of unremitting energy that is like high volume, but only softer.

They also are clearly still in the whoa-this-is-so-fun stage of the rock travelogue. At one point, behind her kit, Campbell suggests a song, Farmer plays a looping riff from it, and Campbell breaks out into a huge grin, as if it were her very favorite. They also mention, two or three times, how psyched they are to be playing with Grass Widow. Their excitement - at playing together, at being there, at making these songs - punctuates staccato, wordless choruses with extra exclamation points. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" the one sings. "Oh! Oh! Oh!," the other answers.

Coasting is right to be amped about performing with Grass Widow. They play next, and, after a long, frustrating struggle with the Flywheel's amplification set-up (has anyone ever played here and heard anything in the monitor?), the three of them decide to "Just try it and see what happens."

Grass Widow is a three piece, tall willowy Raven Mahon on guitar, wise-cracking Lillian Maring on drums and Hannah Lew on bass. The three parts seem equally important, Lew's abstract, Cubist-funk bassline intersecting in interesting ways with Maring's blustery beat, challenging the slash and clangor of Mahon's guitars. Vocally, too, the duties (and emphasis) are shared, in tightly coiled calls and responses and blossoming three-part harmonies that glisten like a slick of ice over notched and jittery post-punk mayhem.

Past Time, Grass Widow's first full-length, came out last year on Kill Rock Stars. They plan to release their next, now that KRS is out of business, on their own label. Lew tells me that the second record is done but not quite ready for release. In the meantime, they have some 7" singles out. The set list mixes old stuff and new, starting with long-time staples. There's "Tattoo," with its lacerating beat and soothing harmonies; "Celebrate the Mundane" with deadpan verse and swooping, circling refrain and bass-thumping, out-of-whack-riffed "Out of Body Experience," to start, and then new single "Milo Minute." The blistering post-punk rampage of "Rattled Call" breaks and turns, somehow, in an a cappella madrigal. The three women charge ahead chaotically, arms flying, notes pinging off each other like shrapnel, then when you least expect it, pull back into the sweetest kind of tuneful-ness.

The set closes with "Manniquin," the other side of "Milo Minute," and no one is ready to let them go. Maring explains that they have never liked the idea of an encore, even in Europe where it is almost an insult to an appreciative crowd if you do not walk off the stage, then return for a few more songs. Lew says, "But you can just do this," and turns her back, then turns again to face us. "We're back." And everybody claps. There are two more angular, angsty, oddly pretty songs, and then the night is over. I'd say that if it was a contest - and it probably wasn't - the girls won.

Sounds like classic Who to us! (And that's a good thing...)

By Blurt Staff

Word arrived not long ago that Jan. 1 is the target date for the new Guided By Voices album Let's Go Eat the Factory (on the GBV Inc. label). Meanwhile, a 7" single, "The Unsinkable Fats Domino" b/w "We Won't Apologize", will arrive Nov. 22 via Matador.

You can hear the A-side all over the web by now - like, below - for download or in handy streaming form. It's also at Robert Pollard's website, natch.

"The Unsinkable Fats Domino"

Brand new clip, "Alabama Pines," one of the key tracks on Isbell's latest record.

By Fred Mills

We'll come right out and admit it: here at BLURT we consider Jason Isbell one of our patron saints. He has yet to put out a bad record, and it seems like every time he steps on stage, either solo or with his band The 400 Unit, magic happens. So we're dead chuffed to bring you his new video, for the song "Alabama Pines" off his latest album Here We Rest (Lightning Rod Records).

It's a sleek, country-flavored, deceptively upbeat toe-tapper of a tune that contrasts with its moodier, contemplative lyrical thrust; the images convey a range of emotions that'll be familiar to fellow musicians and road warriors alike (and pay attention to the little girl).

More Isbell at BLURT:

Here We Rest review

Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit review

"Leap Of Faith" interview (April 2011)

The Blurt Video Interview + Unplugged Performance

Isbell and The 400 Unit will be on tour from now until Nov. 13, plus selected additional dates in Nov. and Dec. Check the itinerary at his official website.

The veteran film star plays the power-mad hunchback king to the hilt during a two-week run at San Francisco's Curran Theatre. (Shows run through Oct. 29.)

By JUD COST

Kevin Spacey has been unintentionally groomed to play the lead in Shakespeare's Richard III for decades. And he plays the power-mad, murderous, hunchback king as an uncontrollable force of nature. It's a breathtaking performance to experience in the close confines of San Francisco's Curran Theatre, as Spacey does everything short of confronting the audience directly to accomplish his mission. 

Spacey has a long history of playing unsavory characters. He shone bright in David Mamet's 1992 film Glengarry Glen Ross as part of a marvelous ensemble cast that included a roomful of scheming, foul-mouthed real estate salesmen played by Jack Lemon, Alec Baldwin, Al Pacino, Alan Arkin and Ed Harris. Spacey was also right at home with Russell Crowe and Guy Pearce in 1997's L.A. Confidential. Primed by the evidence-tampering in the O.J. Simpson murder trial, the movie portrayed rampant corruption within the Los Angeles Police Department. Spacey even played a crippled con artist in 1995's The Usual Suspects and won a best supporting actor Oscar.

Unlike Ian McKellan's version of Richard performed in the 1990's at London's National Theatre and set in Hitler's pretty much humorless Third Reich, Spacey milks certain situations tonight for laughs with the timing of a skilled standup comedian. But when it's time to howl at the moon like a rabid and wounded jackal, he delivers the goods.

Directed by Sam Mendes, who won a best picture Oscar for 1999's American Beauty, which starred Spacey as a suburban dad with unacceptable (and dangerous) sexual cravings, the sharp pacing tonight is suited to a filmmaker's eye. That in spite of the self-imposed limitations of Tom Piper's sparse set which consists of a large room with multiple tall doors through which the proper furniture was carried between scenes. Things brighten considerably when images of moving storm clouds are projected above the doors on the left. A squadron of live percussionists playing very large drums punctuates certain scenes with all the fury of an indoors thunderstorm.

This traveling version of Richard III wowed critics in its original engagement at London's Old Vic theatre and is now slated for limited runs in select worldwide markets. Dressed in unremarkable late Victorian attire by Catherine Zuber, most of the players, including Spacey, speak in their own native version of the English tongue. British accents are forced upon no one. The cast of 20 is almost equally divided between British and American actors.

Strapped into a thigh-to-ankle brace that apparently helps keep one leg canted inward at a painfully awkward angle, and bent from the waist with a large hump protruding from his shoulders, Spacey hobbles and skitters around the stage like a large poisonous crab.

When the current King of England, Edward IV, dies, his deformed brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, is far down the line of succession. But not for long. Richard conspires to have everyone ahead of him murdered, including the King's two young sons (played curiously here by a pair of young women).

One incident is particularly unsettling. When the head of Hastings, who protests Richard's murderous ambition too loudly, is brought into the room in a cardboard box, Richard stabs at its contents vigorously with his cane, and the sickening squish, something like a pumpkin being prodded by a fireplace poker, is all too audible.

As his brief reign begins to crumble before a decisive battle with supporters of the Earl of Richmond at Bosworth Field, Richard is slumped in fitful slumber to the far right of a long table spread across the stage. With Richmond seated far left, the middle of the table is occupied by the ghosts of the seven people Richard has murdered in his rapid ascent to the throne, and they aren't very happy. It's also a chilling and ominous reference to Da Vinci's The Last Supper, that things may not go well tomorrow.

The brief final sword encounter ("My kingdom for a horse"), skillfully performed by Richard and Richmond, ends with the dispatching of the bloodthirsty, crippled monarch. But one final thrill remains for an audience, already wrung dry from this energetic performance. A long rope dangling from above is lowered to the ground and looped tightly around Richard's ankles. As the crowd gasps, the dead King is slowly hoisted to a dangerous height and left dangling upside down for what seems like a very long time before Richmond intones the final stanzas of the play.

Spacey  and the cast received several well-deserved standing ovations, and bouquets were also in order for the fine performances of three veteran women: Haydn Gwynne as Queen Elizabeth, Gemma Jones as Queen Margaret and Maureen Anderman as the Duchess of York. The exit-poll verdict seemed unanimously favorable among those leaving the theatre. Even the guy waiting in line with me to get into the restroom at the Jack In The Box across the street was very impressed. As she collected her things after Spacey's inglorious trip to the rafters, the elderly lady seated next to me could only shake her head and say, "Poor Kevin." To which should be added, Bravo Kevin. He's set the bar very high for future performances of this endlessly rich work.

Family Tree - "a new home for outsider behaviors. First signing is Denver's Bad Weather California.

By Blurt Staff

Akron/Family has now made the unofficial official with the inauguration of their Family Tree Records. In 2012, the label will issue Sunkissed by the Denver misfit band Bad Weather California, produced by Akron/Family's Seth Olinsky. Check out this video of BWC:

$$$ BWC SUNKISSED PROMO $$$ from J Logan Corcoran on Vimeo.

Family Tree Records follows in the footsteps of John Fahey's Tacoma Records, Elephant 6 and Young God Records (the band's first home), artist-run record companies born from a desire to create their own context to more truly reflect their music and artistic vision, driven by a sense of independent thinking, ideas, and values.

Right from the start, Akron/Family was inspired by the likes of the Sun Ra Arkestra, Grateful Dead and Wu Tang Clan, and envisioned operating as a group of friends and artists, creating in ever-shifting combinations, drawing on an ever-widening circle of collaborators. Since Akron/Family started exploring music in 2002, their penchant for the unpaved road has brought them opportunities to collaborate onstage and in the studio with musicians from their own free-jazz heroes Hamid Drake and William Parker to legendary Japanese free-shredder Keiji Haino to the members of Woody Guthrie's family to the several thousand people who have been invited (either by the band or by their own excitement) to sing with the band at live shows. Family Tree Records will be the home for the sound documents produced by this process.

All along Akron/Family has collected recordings outside the norm of what appears on more commercial albums. They have edited together limited-run releases from live performances, dimly lit, all-night home sessions, and/or field recordings of wind and insects. These were lovingly hand-packaged and sold primarily on tour. Over time, these were referred to as their "Family Tree Records."

Family Tree Records started this year with the co-release (with Dead Oceans) of <bmbz>, a musical survey and documentation of a Banksy-an Internet prank where Akron/Family's latest album was demolished and reconstructed by seven different artists, then leaked online throughout the Christmas season.

In celebration of 2012, the year of the Mayan calendar's solar cycle prophecies, Family Tree Records is releasing Bad Weather California's Sunkissed. These Denver-based street partiers have been playing house shows and biker bars out West for years and are ripe to enter a wider world. Sunkissed features  exquisite beached out, afro-cana punk anthems with ripping guitar and street wise lyrics, all dedicated to the cellular source of life on this planet - the Sun! This skater-friendly, hippie/ punk aesthetic hearkens back to the glory days of early 80‘s SST Records:  the Meat Puppets (who've they've worked with), Minutemen and early Flaming Lips. Those bands emerged at a time when the punk tenets of artistic freedom  and militant individuality had gone out of fashion, only clung to by the most dedicated of outsiders.

The label has many other plans in store for 2012. Miles Seaton from Akron/Family is producing a record for Ju Young Lee AKA Praything, a wunderkind outsider-pop luminary who surfs the waves of Bruce Springsteen and Laurie Anderson in the Magic Kingdom of Orlando, FL.  There'll be a vinyl- only release of visionary electro-acoustic drone poet Greg Davis' Full Spectrum series.

Also in the planning stage is a touring performance series using portable, custom-built venues. There are plans for releases of Akron/Family side projects and previously un-issued band recordings.