by osmosis

As I'm sure you all know, Polaroid has shut down their production of analog Instant Film. Since that announcement, film lovers around the world have been looking for a hero to rescue this sacred format.  Well, will a little luck The Impossible Project may be that savior.  The name doesn't sound too promising, but their mission does.

Here's their mission:

Impossible b.v. has been founded with the concrete aim to re-invent and re-start production of analog INTEGRAL FILM for vintage Polaroid cameras.

Therefore Impossible b.v. has acquired the complete film production equipment in Enschede (NL) from Polaroid, has signed a 10-year lease agreement on the factory building; and has engaged the most experienced team of Integral Film experts worldwide.

The Impossible mission is NOT to re-build Polaroid Integral film but (with the help of strategic partners) to develop a new product with new characteristics, consisting of new optimised components, produced with a streamlined modern setup. An innovative and fresh analog material, sold under a new brand name that perfectly will match the global re-positioning of Integral Films.

Go visit their site and see how you can help!

Somehow I was in the dark about Tom Ford directing his first feature.  This 2 minute trailer for A Single Man, based on the 1964 novel by Christopher Isherwod, looks beautiful and mysterious.  One thing is for certain, the wardrobe with be impeccable!  The film depicts 24 hrs in the life of an Englishman visiting LA, who's lover Jim has died.

The discussion touching upon the dichotomy of Elvin Jones and Rashied Ali, who just passed away on August 12^th, in the various Coltrane ensembles of the ‘60s doesn’t have a natural end. And in effect, the two were so stylistically removed from each other that the debate about whose playing better fit Coltrane’s is pretty much moot. Both possessed a unique acumen behind the set as each was able to fit their bosses playing for a time.

Elvin Jones, though, might be a better known figure in general – despite the fact that Ali went on to perform with a huge list of folks including Thurston Moore for a few odd dates. After working on Coltrane’s early sixties output, this drummer, who eventually figured he wasn’t any longer the proper foil to the sax players increasingly disjointed fair, struck out on his own. Leading groups comprised of folks that are/were already legends as well as assembling some combos comprised of players that were just making a name for themselves, Jones began exploring music beyond acoustic jazz.

As the ‘70s dawned, with funk and soul making its impact on jazz, Jones found himself attempting to incorporate those elements into his work. Maintaining a brisk recording schedule, Jones put together ensembles, recorded and very frequently found himself amongst a new crop of players for his next session. The 1976 album Main Force and its ‘77 follow up, Time Capsule, for instance, only share a single performer in common. Despite the revolving door, though, Jones and company were able to concoct a set (mostly comprised by tunes written by alto sax player Bunky Green) that made use of jazz, funk and even a bit of what would become smooth jazz courtesy of soprano saxophonist Frank Foster.

There are those moments when a listener must wonder why? Parts of “Digital Display” prompt that thinking, but during brief passages on that offering, the band swings so hard it almost doesn’t matter. Elsewhere, though, the polyglot percussionist helps his band pull of some stringently devised compositions – the title track most noticeably.

But where there’s a Coltrane band alumni, there’s sure to be a grip of interesting work with the album’s closer, “Spacing,” providing such moments. The broadest drum solo is provided here as well as bringing to a close an album the found Jones achieving what he wanted with a group of performers that would, at some point, sit in with the drummer again. Time Capsule isn’t the highlight of Jones’ catalog, but it’s a telling piece of history from the decade after Coltrane changed the genre.

The life of rappers, who at one time had to sell tapes outta trunks, has been irrevocably changed by the digitized America. That’s not a new and novel concept at this late date, but what is becoming more and clearer is that if you can do it on the internets, you can do it in front of a real crowd – for the most part. So regardless of what one might think of Asher Roth (or the fact that his face was on pretty much every bus stop in Los Angeles during the beginning of the summer), he illustrates the point pretty well.

But there are legions of folks out there doing the same thing – they just don’t all happen to be from Pennsylvania and enrolled in a bachelor’s program. Regardless, QuESt has been at it, following roughly the same path as some other digital phenoms for what’s gotta seem like years. The Florida based emcee aligned himself with the iLLRoots crew and producer/web-wrangler Mike Waxx. The relationship has yielded a series of mix tapes that have been mostly positively received by the (pretend) internet press. But a scant few months after the release of his last project, QuESt returns with Broken Headphones.

The rapper’s love of all things D.A.I.S.Y. Age is well documented at this point – but this newest release seems a bit detached from that. The production is probably what separates Broken Headphones from not just QuESt’s idols, but his back catalog. It’s an updated sound given the ‘90s style production that Distant Travels Into Soul Theory sported. That’s not meant to figure that the beats here are lackluster – just different.

But much in the same way that Distant Travels Into Soul Theory dealt with the travails of relationships – one specifically – this new release seems to do much the same thing. It’s an odd corner for a rapper to find himself in when he so clearly finds merit in some of the more cerebrally powerful emcees of that bygone (‘90s) era. QuESt surely isn’t done. There isn’t even a proper album under his belt as of yet. If he wants to get there, though, his rhyme book needs to hold a bit more than songs about ladies no matter how beautiful each might be.

All great art has it. You may not be able to grab hold of it, but you know when it's there. Whether it be a cross-cut in a film, a touch of yellow in a painting or a hanging note in a song, all great art carries with it a hidden x-factor that won't allow itself to be pinned down. I generally end up calling this quality "heart," and I think that's a good enough name for it as any. Does the work have "heart?" Has it been created with and channelled by a drive, talent, desire and honesty that allows it to transcend its plot, subject or medium? All bad art is honest, so we definitely can't forget "talent" in that list of attributes.

Pulp Fiction is a film with an x-factor. It's better than the sum of it's parts. If all the parts got on a scale and weighed 170 pounds, the completed film would weigh 185. There's 15 pounds of x-factor to deal with in Pulp Fiction, and because of that it may forever be Quentin's finest creation.

Fast-forward fifteen years. While nothing in the Tarantino canon has touched Pulp Fiction, a handful of incredible, joyous, and virtuoso films now fills his catalogue - most notably his two part revenge epic Kill Bill. The exploits have been there since the beginning; however, Jackie Brown really started his shift into exploitation as the product. This went into hyper-overdrive with Kill Bill's bloody pastiche of Kung-Fu and Manga, and almost off the rails with the double feature Grindhouse.  Instead of playing with the conventions of genre and exploit in his films, Tarantino became determined to perfect the art form of exploitation itself.

Finally we come to Inglorious Basterds. The first thing I can tell you is that I had a smile on my face for the entire 153 minutes. Didn't think I'd ever laugh through a scalping, but there I was. Tarantino is committed to making the art form he loves a wondrous and magical experience. It's present in every line of dialogue, camera pan, reveal and bloodletting. In that regard Inglorious Basterds is a masterpiece. The question is, does it have that x-factor? I'm going to have to say no. His commitment to the genre leaves no room for anything else.  There's a heart there, but it's latched onto the genre, and I'm not sure where to place that. 

I loved Inglorious Basterds and all it's twists, turns and carnage.  I think it was a glorious return for the filmmaker, and I can't wait to take the ride again.  I do however hope that at some point he gets his x-factor back.

This mixtape is about two months old, and since music now moves at the speed of light - these songs are almost classic rock by now.  For some reason it never felt quite ready, but it's now or never so I'm calling this The Lost Mixtape.  It was originally going to be called "Schizophrenia is taking me home" after a great Sonic Youth song, because it felt really scattered, but we'll stick with the new title.

Same deal - go here to download the mix.  I also have it up at Sound Cloud, which allows you to repost the recording and stream directly from there (if anyone is so inclined).

tracklist after the jump…

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Great trailer for what is hopefully a great doc.

John Dwyer is a monster. In a good way. The amount of music that he’s had a hand in over the last decade is well beyond most other figures currently mucking about in the underground music world. From his work in Coachwhips to his relatively new ensemble Thee Oh Sees, Dwyer’s  adept amalgam of scuzz, garage, noise and pop makes for not only an interesting assemblage of sounds, but some good records as well. And on the heels of the In the Records’ release of Help from earlier this year comes a collection of demos and some weirdo downer, home recordings in the form of Zork’s Tape Bruise.

The fact that Zork is partially comprised of work recently released in proper form shouldn’t deter the devoted. Each take on the six tracks from Help (Rainbow, Enemy Destruct, Ruby Go Home, A Flag Unfurled, Can You See?, Soda St. #1, Destroyed Fortress Reappears) are not only unique when compared to the album versions, but also only make up about a quarter of the disc. The pop side of Thee Oh Sees seems to be better represented in these versions – the slower pacing of each track begging for the Dwyer and Brigid Dawson to take time to harmonize and the like.

 “You Are in My Glass,” which finds Dawson taking the lead on vocals is a folksy traipse through pop with a flute prominently figured as a solo instrument and still maintains the same slow pacing as those aforementioned retreads. The echo that so frequently accompanies work from Thee Oh Sees remains a constant, but seeing as the track is comprised of only two guitar chords and Dawson’s voice, this seems like a completely different group – that’s still an endorsement.

Even with that approach taking over a good deal of this odds and sods disc, the more shambolic side of the group is still present. “Untitled Byt Substantial” moves back to a recognizable Oh Sees’ pace and buries the vocals behind some whizzing noise and constant quarter note drumming. It’s not the highlight of the disc or the band’s ever ballooning catalog, but it probably beats out a good deal of whatever your local garage band is cranking out.

The ups and downs of Zork’s Tape Bruise aren’t going to entice the passing fan even if the stomp propelling “Hey, Conflicted Men” is undeniable. And seeing as the initial vinyl pressing has come and gone, hunting this down might be difficult anyway. It’s most assuredly worth a shot, though.

I’ve never been to Sacramento. I’ve driven by it on my way to and from the Bay. Arnold lives there. And it’s hot. That’s all that I know. Bands like Mayyors, who are gaining a bit of attention for unknown reasons, call that city home. And Cake too, not that that matters. But Ganglians are completely detached from what one might guess would come from an inland city in California. And while the band hasn’t been around for all that long, its first full length Monster Head Room, which has already sold out its initially vinyl pressing on Weird Forest, sounds as if it was recorded by a well traveled troupe of adept professionals. Seriously.

Having previously pressed a split single with Eat Skull, one might expect something akin to that Portland band’s sloppy punk come rock style. But on Monster Head Room, it’s all sunshine, gel caps and sun drenched cookouts with the Beach Boys as the house band. With the surge in Animal Collective’s popularity, the B Boys’ name check has been getting tossed around a lot lately, but here, Ganglians come by that sound rather organically as opposed to those Baltimore bred media darlings.

“To June,” coming a bit past the half way marker here, could just as easily be about a memorable month as a single individual. The tune’s made up mostly of odd production noises and pulsing notes squeezed from improbably reverb’d guitars. Its languid vocal, floating just atop of the occasional, but inviting slide guitar, should serve to make this everyone’s campout-come-down track after a night of visions either brought about from chemical help or just the good vibes of this music’s antecedents.

Even considering the heights of that track, most everything else represented on this long player is able to get into pretty close proximity. The one expectation comes in the form of “100 Years” – which, for whatever reason, seems to be the track most disseminated throughout the internets. But it’s a bit of a bummer in the summer. The false setto that works to such good affect else where really becomes burdensome here amidst the most aggressive track from this disc. It could be deemed a throw away, but that’d be harsh. It’s just an also-ran.

Apart from that five minutes from Ganglians, though, everything here is basically California gold. And seeing as the band’s already set to work on a few tracks to follow-up this friendly monster, Ganglians’ work ethic can only be hoped to match its ability at adroit recreations of aural relaxation.

This is nuts!  Check out more of Jul & Mat's videos here