Tag Archives: guitar

Walking Papers – Walking Papers (2012)

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Here’s one of the most impressive bands I’ve heard in a while, even though I can’t shake a slight feeling of deja-vu when I hear them. It might just have to do with the fact that Walking Papers is basically a supergroup, formed by members of The Screaming Trees, The Missionary Position, Guns’n'Roses, with contributions from Mike McCready (the guitarist from Pearl Jam). The blending of styles and backgrounds is so seamless, pleasant and so familiar, I suppose it’s no surprise it made me feel like “good old rock’n'roll” found a new avatar in these guys.

Walking Papers

I was a big fan of Guns’n'Roses when I was a kid, they were my entry into “rock music” (which meant anything from glam to grunge to metal for the ten-year-old me), and Slash’s subsequent projects produced some of my favorite tracks and albums ever, so I was delighted to learn that former Guns bass player, Duff McKagan joined this band. There seems to be a bit of a trend going around with these old icons joining new outfits – Black Country Communion, Them Crooked Vultures and now Walking Papers are all great examples. Out of the above-mentioned bands though, I believe Walking Papers take the cake – there’s a wonderful cohesion in the band, a well-tempered maturity, and the groove just breaks out at the seams of every song.

There really isn’t very much critiquing I wanna do for Walking Papers – this kind of music is really supposed to be visceral, absorbed through the muscles as well as the ears, and there really isn’t very much words can to do make that process happen for someone who isn’t feeling it. There’s gritty blues, fat keyboards, meaty rhythms, fierce and unsophisticated guitars and one hell of a voice to bring it all together. There’s a hefty bit of political commentary in some of the lyrics, but not so much that it becomes annoying. Here’s a list of things that aren’t new about Walking Papers: themes, song structure, sound, lyrics, group dynamic. You know what? It doesn’t matter – the band is tremendous and the songs will get stuck in your head for days. You’ll want to drive to this music, run, train at the gym, you’ll want to start a band of your own and make it sound just like this, because there is absolutely nothing more that can be demanded from rock’n'roll.

They don’t have videos, and most of the performances I found on YouTube are live, so I’ll limit the selection to one long video from KEXP, because it’s a very good live show, and the sound quality is perfect. Enjoy!

Colaris – Renewal (2012) & Interview

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We have some old friends back today, with a double feature. I wrote about Colaris’ debut EP – “The Disclosure” – over a year ago, and since then they’ve been very busy, releasing a great LP in 2012, called Renewal and a very exciting split album just this month, with their friends from Ampersphere. Jessie Schmidt, the guitarist in Colaris, was very kind to answer a few of my questions, so here we go, with a mini-interview and a few thoughts I have about their debut LP.

Colaris Renewal

ZaRecords: Here’s my favorite question to ask: what’s the story behind your band name?

Jessie Schmidt:. It`s a fantasy word. We just wanted to have a name which had different sides to it: a kind of positive/negative thing, something cold and dark and something really hot and shimmering, shining. It`s like the common thread through all of our songs.

ZR: Your songs sound more “grown” than “composed” – what’s your creative process? Do you have a distinct pattern for constructing material?

JS: You’re right, man. Most of our songs are written in jam sessions in our rehearsal room.
We love to jam for hours and hours on different parts. We demo them, listen at home and jam again. Sometimes I write small pieces at home but mostly one riff or phrase. I like to jam with my loopstation to create some basic basslines and start to build up different guitar layers over that.

The Renewal LP feels substantially different in layering and general esthetic than The Disclosure EP, it feels much more patient, much more introspective, a lot closer to the wide, reverberating spaces of post-rock than the band’s previous sound. That’s not to say that the music is lacking in vigor, not in the least – the rhythm section is alive with the deep rumble, much like heartbeat, and the guitar is just as fierce and ready to pounce as always, but rather than providing jagged riff structures, the variations have moved to the tone realm, subtly and maturely.

Jessie, guitar and sounds

ZR: Do you enjoy playing live, or are you more at home in the studio? Tell me a funny / weird / entertaining story from a concert.

JS: Sure we love to play live, but playing in a three piece band means there is a lot of “Murphy’s law” going on on stage. For example, my looper starts living its own live on stage. The MacBook with the live samples starts living its own live as well. At a show in Belgium there was no time for a sound check. So we had to build everything up and do a fast line check, after the first band had finished. But my whole setup gave up the ghost. We changed everything from amp to cables and cabinets, only to find out that it was only one (!!!) cable which was not correctly plugged into my effect board. You can imagine how “funny” the rest of the show was for me – nervous as hell and totally pissed off. I think it was our worst gig ever.

Managing a tonal range the likes of which Colaris offers takes a lot of machinery, which is obvious from a multitude of photos the band have posted on their Facebook page from various concerts. The sheer number of foot switches, pedals, cables and whatnot which go into their live set is intimidating to behold, and it’s a real feat to manage making all of it harmonize, but more than that, it’s a treat to hear it put to such good use, as nothing sounds superfluous and cheap. It’s very easy for a musician to hide behind a wall of effects which turn every simple not into a cascade of sound and I’m glad to say that I detect no such shenanigans with Colaris. The effects enhance rather than supplement, and that’s truly refreshing.

Colaris 2

Philip, bass

ZR: Your music seems to have more of a “post-metal” vibe to it – reminds me very pleasantly of bands such as Cult of Luna or Isis. Have you considered adding vocals, or do you feel they wouldn’t bring anything essential to the sound? Do you try and avoid labels like music genre and such, when talking about your music?

JS: Julian and I have a huge metal background. He listens to a lot of black metal and doom bands like Rorcal, The Tuins of Beverast, Paysage d’Hiver, Addaura, Alda or Ash borer. I played in several metal and hardcore bands before. But i`m also addicted to old ’70s psychedelic and progressive bands like Pink Floyd, Mike Oldfield, Camel or Tangerine Dream. We don`t avoid any genre labels, we are happy with our sound and that we create the music that we have in our hearts and minds. Speaking just on my behalf, I don`t want to use any vocals for our music – it is based on personal  experiences, feelings and impressions of life. It also offers a lot more space for each instrument to unfold.

The music takes a certain frame of mind to enjoy, it takes a bit of work to unfold, which I find pleasing. There’s quite a bit of tension being allocated between the three instruments in a very balanced way, a very fair distribution of eloquence. I can see why, with such a tight system, it would be hard to imagine integrating anything else – there’s really no need. The album washes over the listener quickly, compressing time, and the record name shows just how good of a choice it is – one feels refreshed after an attentive run-through of this LP.

Colaris 3

Julian, drums

ZR: What’s your relationship with the music industry nowadays? Do you follow a more traditional model – record label, contracts etc. – or do you rely on digital distribution, self-promotion and so on?

JS: We love the “Do it yourself” way. It means a lot more work, but it`s a passion thing. We released our first EP by ourselves. It`s easier to make some hand numbered CDs or to use different artworks when you’re doing it all by yourself. But releasing vinyl by yourself is too expensive, so we decided to work with WHOOAAARG and Revolvermann Records for the “Renewal”  2×12.

Currently we are working with Revolvermann Records and Puzzle Records together for our upcoming split. Both are small labels and really really nice guys. For the split we will also have European distribution via Broken Silence Music.

ZR: Thank you so much for your time and detailed answers! I really hope to meet you guys live one day!

JS: Sure, we’d love that too!

I hope you guys enjoy the interview, but especially the LP. Here it is, all of it, off Bandcamp!

Steven Wilson – The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories) (2013)

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It’s been a while, true, but the thing is, I’m in more of an “input” than “output” musical phase, I’ve been discovering all sorts of new sounds and vibes and I’m trying to sort through all of them. Until I get my bearings again, I’ll probably be updating more scarcely, but that doesn’t meant ZaRecords is dead. Far from it, especially when I am graced with albums such as the one I’m writing about today. I’ve probably already made this abundantly clear in previous posts, but I am a prog-rock nut, so when Steven Wilson puts out a new album, I listen. But this time, more than ever before, I am left electrified and stunned by Steven Wilson’s vision.

Steven WilsonFirst, a bit of trivia about the man himself – Steven Wilson is the founder of Porcupine Tree, one of the most well-known and rightfully appreciated outfits in music, at least for anyone who has any interest in progressive rock. He’s also behind Blackfield, arguably a more radio-friendly band, less prone to confuse DJs as to the actual genre they’re listening to. Also, he’s a tremendous producer, famous, amongst many other things, for having worked with Opeth on two of their very best albums, as well as undertaking the titanic task of remastering the entire King Crimson discography (and he did it formidably well, it’s as if he switched brains with Robert Fripp or something…). “The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories)” is his third solo album, and it seems that Steven Wilson has become some sort of avatar of progressive rock, with the consciousness of monsters such as King Crimson, Genesis and Yes flowing, molten, through his veins.

I have never before heard music which shares such kinship with the defining sound of the early seventies, without feeling merely tributary. From the very first play of the record (and there have probably been over a hundred plays since), I felt as if I had discovered an album made right alongside “Selling England By The Pound” and “Larks’ Tongues In Aspic”. My bones grew to the sound of these albums, twenty years after their release, true, but so it happened nonetheless. I define my musical preferences, one way or the other, through the prog-rock prism. This music represents so much of my identity, and I’ve been so used to confining it to that narrow time-span between the late sixties and late seventies, that “The Raven That Refused To Sing” simply caught me unprepared. Sure, Steven Wilson is well known for integrating prog-rock influences in his music, much more than most, but it’s always felt like a welcome addition, a warm handshake, a knowing nod. What he accomplishes here is, unbelievably, heartbreakingly, perfectly the genuine article.

The music is remarkably textured – the unexpected, entrancing flue, the unmistakeable, cascading sound of the mellotron, the fluid, overwhelming eloquence of the guitar, with tones molded to that elusive edge between smoothness and ferocity, the jagged groove of the bass on some of these songs, expertly counterbalanced by the often forlorn, painfully hollow mood lurking just beneath… this is a musical version of Francis Bacon’s paintings – an unsettling blend of childlike simplicity somehow privy to unfathomable, terrifying depth. I’m sure the record benefited greatly from having Alan Parsons as a producer, however, Steven Wilson’s songwriting genius seems to have reached a level of clarity like never before, capturing that distinctive layering of harmony and structure, that perfect balance of influences and styles which only progressive rock can meld into this glistening, brittle, priceless alloy.

The skin hears this just as much as the ears, and I’m going to have real trouble selecting just two tracks to illustrate this point. As will all prog-rock, this album benefits greatly from a patient, attentive listener, and I feel it can only unfurl its arabesque wings when listened to in full. Of course, I am acutely aware of my considerable bias – I feel like I’ve grown my ears to listen to this kind of music, pure and simple – but I hope I’ve been persuasive enough, for now. Enjoy!

Fiordmoss – Ink Bitten (2012)

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The way to write about Fiordmoss is to be half asleep, at the threshold of illness due to exhaustion, or, conversely, in love, distantly overwhelmed, as though, while looking at storm clouds, you’d have trouble telling if it was coming or going. In this nebulous space, their music can be met half way and it can begin to weave itself around one’s mind like a cold, sharp garment, a gauze and satin hybrid, to be worn right before sex and right before wounding. The sterile caress of these songs is something not easily forgotten, something which can tattoo itself on your eardrums, softly, as if spilling ink were enough to drown out all pain and leave traces of peace under your skin.

Photo by: Jan Durina

I saw Fiormoss perform live in my town, a few days after Floex, in a wonderful display of inspiration by the Czech Cultural Center. Their performance was hypnotism itself. With patience exquisite, they treat sounds like fluids, they slowly perform the alchemy of turning air into water into wax, with a presence about them which alludes to ritual rather than performance. Regardless of acceleration of tempo, every second spent in that concert hall made me feel like time was slowing down more and more near the shimmering edges of the sonic bubble they were projecting around the audience. It’s shocking how different the recording is, but since I can only speak about the recording, I must say it’s just as effective in inducing this dizzying and entirely non-violent attack on the threshold between the wakeful state and whatever happens when you nod off.

This music reminds me of the butoh dance experiments, where the performer would try to shut down consciousness and impulse, and allow the body to move as the body wants to move, free of intent other that that which is dictated by the music. Dream on your feet, in other words, dream as your toes try to support you in ways unthought of before, dream as your body finds new ways to stand, your bones find new ways of leaning on each other. There is passion and darkness and a particular kind of cold, a spectral chill permeating such movements, and the same shiver seems to me to be traveling through Fiordmoss’ album, from beginning to end. Odd, melancholy, fragile, the music has something dead and yet thriving, something basic, like the micelles of fungi, quickly spreading through the cold, damp soil, terrifying and endearing at the same time.

Fear and love tangled together in Petra’s voice, marble, grit, ice and water grafted on each other in Jan and Roman’s bass and guitar dialogue/dance, and the slow pulsing of blood through arteries with the programmed beats, these ingredients meld so well in the trio’s music that I simply can’t find any way not to become completely mesmerized. References abound, but to mention them would feel hollow. The music is just too cohesive, too entrancing, too in control of itself to require any sort of bonds and ties to other names. The pulse is unrelenting, making one wonder about the attraction between things, the inevitability of clashes, like tectonic plates mounting each-other slowly, like great beasts, or the maddeningly slow and yet somehow unstoppable process of motes of dust congealing around each-other, forming planets. This attraction, be it magnetism or gravity, is sung by these songs like hymns; this slow, constant, sexy coming together seems to sit at the nucleus of every one of Fiordmoss’ offerings, and just like the astronomer and the microbiologist can look in different directions and observe the same patterns, so do these songs behave when emitted from recording or in the live environment. I hope you enjoy Fiordmoss as much as I did. My favorite track on the album, Deer Traps, I present to you in two versions, one live, for comparison. See you soon.

Daniela Andrade – Things We’ve Said EP (2012)

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Hello dear friends! This is a very special day for ZaRecords – it’s our one year anniversary! I started this blog on my birthday last year, and it’s proven to be the most long lasting endeavor I have ever set out to do. I started with what my friends considered an unlikely choice, given my normal musical tastes – Daniela Andrade, a soft, gentle troubadour of this intermediary season. At that time, she hadn’t yet released a professional recording of her music – the only way you could hear her was on YouTube or on TheSixtyOne, where one can still download her covers for free, and purchase her early recordings, as I did, under the name of “Red Letter Days EP”.

It so happens this is also my birthday, and I don’t feel like flooding this post with many words. ZaRecords is, after all, an attempt at a music blog, rather than a display of wordsmithing prowess. I debated then, as I do now, writing about Morphine’s “French Fries With Pepper” song, which is the song I always listen to on this day… but Daniela Andrade has been with me throughout the year, inspiring me every day with her constant stream of perseverance and sincerity. This openness and honesty shone through and resulted in the issuing of her first EP – Things We’ve Said, a lovely concentration of all of the themes expressed in the previous, simpler, bedroom recordings of her songs. This EP represents a goal achieved, a victory of no small value, a first, honest step on a hopefully long career choice, just as this blog represents the same thing for me. Daniela Andrade’s smooth, almost childish voice, is now a symbol for me, and for this I thank her, just as I thank you, my dear friends, who have kept me inspired and enthusiastic throughout this entire year, in which so many things could have gone so very wrong.

Daniela’s EP studio recordings are unavailable on YouTube – the record is easily available on her website for a modest sum. I leave you with two recordings of original songs of hers, one new and crystalline, but as warm as ever, the second also present on her record. One caught in the limbo of being out there, without being committed to vinyl or CD, the other safe and sound, in many more ways than one. Thank you Daniela, and thank you, friends, for holding on.