aaah perfect for easing m’self into the weekend.

but. almost. well. this kindof virtuosity on occasion gets my goat, my blood boiling, my back up. sweet lord i’m so jealous of these fuckerses digital dexterity that (oh god…) sometimes, sometimes i dream of smashing up richard bishops fingers with a sockfulla rocks. there goddammit i’ve said it. watching those nimble fingers flickering so effortlessly along frets, flitting giddy across strings sometimes fills me with near apoplectic jealous rage. seems unnatural, the blurred contorting finger strewn legerdemain of it.

anyway yeah this is more of thatkindofthing. y’know the effortlessly fluid string mangling of basho-junghans and sir richard and jones and blackshaw and rose. that kind of modern day experimental brain / hand free dissociation started by fahey.

so what you get for yr bucks is an expertly balanced (somehow this is only his second record) liquidic kinesis of blooze, folk rags and geetar psyckerry. ranging from epic nine minute workouts on mr franklin, indulging all manner of picks and bends alongside some steel guitar wielding jiggerypokerry from marc orleans, to shorter structured controlled pieces like the expansively miniscule variation ii.

it’s a bit like if someone scraped clean all the muck from his other work with marcia bassett in ghq, cillit-banged all the hum and haw away, leaving only a smudge of warm fuzz (real seventies vibe on house of knowledge) and some meticulous am-prim behind. it’s an interesting record in many ways but particularly as it seems to be as much about the song itself as the exploration. running free with the takoma tropes rather than sticking religiously to the text. chuck in some occasional vox courtesy of yr man and vanishing voices monotonic heidi diehl, a countryfried molestation of j.j. cale’s crying eyes and you’ve pretty much got a perfect forty minutes. reminds me a bit of alexander tucker’s recent latitudes output in these respects.

anyway available in the usual fetishy vinyl way: 180g, limited run, heavy stoughton sleeves, artwork by mike pare, glass-mastered cd. oof feel all a-flustered now…

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