If I’m honest with myself (and everyone else), I’ve been in a bit of a rut these past few months. So instead of Spring feeling like a release or a welcomed change, it’s been a befuddled period thus far. A recent ice storm here in Montreal really drove things home: in the days since, city parks, sidewalks, and streets have been littered with an incredible amount of downed branches and trees. A major loss at a time when things oughta be blossoming.
In tandem, I’ve been thinking about small ways to switch up the Regular: new formats, special issues, expanding the palette… hell, maybe just taking a good long break. With that in mind, I’ve decided to lean into my ennui for this issue: the mood is a little more somber than usual. Though I’m certain the flowers will bloom soon enough. Thanks for sticking with me.
ICYMI, I started a donations page. All the money I receive will go back into music (eg. purchasing physical/digital music, merch, concert tickets, supporting other music outlets, etc.). If you’re not able to support the newsletter financially, you might also consider liking / sharing / following on Instagram.
click the covers to listen or go your own way ~~
CTM - Red Dragon (2018)
Rain coated, oil slicked, empty parking lot pop. This magnificently moody record from Danish cellist / composer / singer Cæcilie Trier strikes a delicate balance between sentimentality and ultramodernity. Baroque passages centering on piano, organ and kora are glitched with a kind of theatrical mechanization that never betrays the tender, lonely quality of the music. Red Dragon also uses vocals in a fascinating way: sung or spoken, background or foreground, one gets the sense that the coterie of voices are inhabiting the songs more than they are featured or chosen.
** bonus points: Trier put out two nice records last year - a tilted chamber collection as one-third of TLF Trio and the more r&b leaning solo effort Babygirl
Mazzy Star - Among My Swan (1996)
I was introduced to Mazzy Star about fifteen years ago and never paid them much mind. Simultaneously, I was discovering bands like Pram, Pale Saints and Galaxie 500, who all share some bits of sonic DNA and were much more appealing. I think Mazzy’s blues roots were showing just a bit too much for me. And actually that still feels somewhat true of their first two records. But this third album is so tucked-in and drrreeaamyyy. I can’t really get behind the artwork, but I love the evocative, grammatically elusive title. And Hope Sandoval’s vocals are 100% intoxicating.
** bonus points: I revisited this band two weeks ago, after being entranced by ‘Look On Down From The Bridge’ in the closing sequence + credits of Meadowlands, the fourth episode of The Sopranos. Now I like imagining responding to the question ‘where do you find all this stuff?’ with: ‘Sopranos OST, bruh’ 😤
Jeremiah Jae - The Decline Of Black Anakin (2015)
Everything about this EP leaves me wanting more. Despite never hitting a BPM beyond ‘chill’, it feels urgent and compelling. The production is absolutely incredible, landing somewhere between contemporary Earl and vintage Mobb Deep. Jae’s not afraid to let the beat hang or allow for the tangled melodies to take center stage. At eight tracks, with only one breaking the three-minute mark, Black Anakin feels all too brief. Though, considering the final track ends on an inhale, I get the sense that the brevity’s intentional.
Jigen - Blood’s Finality / Stone Drum Avantgardism (1998)
With this one-two punch from Tokyo’s Jigen, I’m swimming in somewhat uncharted waters. I won’t pretend to be an avid listener of drum n’ bass or musique concrète, though the way in which they’re combined here is profoundly compelling to me. These albums are dark, heavy and skittering. And yet, within each cracked percussive blast, there’s a profound sense of possibility. The music bears a special quality of truly novel experimentation where, as a listener, you can actually feel the artist’s focus and drive. You can tell they’re working purely on instinct, possessed by the thrill of being out at the edge.
The Necks - Sex (1989)
The first time I listened to The Necks was in 2018 when they dropped Body, an hour-long, single track album that morphs effortlessly between droney and driving. It floored me. So much so that it immediately became a kind of pinnacle in my mind: like, surely this was the high point and one needs no other Necks album? Well, fast forward to me in 2023 realizing I couldn’t have been more wrong. Digging through the sizeable back catalog of this cult Australian trio has been incredibly rewarding. Always the same, always different. Every album, every note, feels crucial. Sex is their recording debut and it serves as a perfect introduction: a dazzling, long-form, jazz-adjacent experiment that feels wonderfully loose and intensely cohesive.
I’m super interested in feedback / dialogue / suggestions. If you have ideas about the newsletter, want to share music with me, have specific questions / requests, don’t hesitate to get in touch. And please: share this newsletter with a pal if you feel so inspired!
Yrs.,
Andrew P.
andrewdanielpatterson [at] gmail [dot] com