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Reviews 031: Uneven Paths

I’ve been sitting with this one for a few weeks, taking time to reflect on the scope and magic of the music, and on our collective luck in having Raphaël Top-Secret and Jamie Tiller dig up all these wonderful treasures. In releasing Uneven Paths: Deviant Pop from Europe 1980-1991, Music From Memory have done for avant-garde and weirdo European pop what they did for outsider Brazilian kosmische/ambient with Outro Tempo, unearthing hitherto unexplored scenes and giving some long deserved appreciation to artists and songs that were almost lost to the sands of time. The LP packaging is marvelous and includes interesting historical information in the liner notes, some of it nigh unbelievable, that helps establish context and even a narrative for these sonic gems and how they were (re)discovered. And it has been fascinating reading other reviews and seeing the huge variation in what people like and don’t like, which speaks to the incredible range and eclecticism of the music. I have my own preferences of course, and this is reflected in the fact that I chose only to review three or four of my favorite songs from each side. But the whole journey is worthwhile and each song is necessary to gain the full picture of this nearly lost era of popular music.

Uneven Paths: Deviant Pop from Europe 1980-1991 (Music from Memory, 2018) Nightfall in Camp’s “Cada Día” is the perfect introduction, built from soft chords, a slow machine beat, and harmonically rich noise textures. The vocals are softly spoken, and meditative flute adds to the horizontal feel…everything floating in deep blue water. Tony Hymas’s “Pictures of Departure” starts with airport samples, hypnotic tropical mallet instruments, and deep soothing vocals speaking of mundane and melancholy travel experiences. Then almost out of nowhere, we drop into these neon lit downtempo bliss-outs with pounding drums, romantic and dreamy looped vocals, and climactic glossy synthesizers. It sounds remarkably like Chromatics, only decades earlier. Two of the compilation’s more anthemic cuts come at the end of the A-side, starting with “Listen Over the Ocean” by Violet Eves. Sitting somewhere between dark Portishead epicness in the low slung downbeat groove and that Siouxsie Sioux post-punk fire in the vocals, we have vibraphone dropping cool crystalline atmospherics aside melodramatic strings and glassy guitar. And Miko & Mubare’s “Komoma Ya-Ya-Ya” prowls on a mysterious groove, swaggering, dark, and hypnotic, as squelchy bass synth trades off martial riffs with bluesy psych guitar. It’s super rhythmic and vibin’, especially once the ritualistic chanting enters, celestial and atmospheric, before climaxing with a minimal downtempo nod-out and deep vocals imploring…demanding…”we all must speak in one tongue!”

Perhaps my favorite moment comes during the B-side, with John Makin & Friends’ “No Lie”. Starting on lilting psychfolk chords, an airy rhythm, and acid soaked fuzz soloing, this could easily be some lost Smith & Mudd track (think “Dogwood” from Gorthleck). Yet once the vocals enter, we shift back a few decades to the wide-eyed California infused folk-rock of Morrison Kincannon. Sparkling and kaleidoscopic guitar interplay, smooth electric piano, lyrics of lost love, and a totally freaked out echo guitar solo…brilliant. Elsewhere, the club vibrations are notched up. Nonobstant’s “Jessica” features smooth jammy electric piano over a stuttering and stoned funk swing, bass in stomping ascent, drums sizzling on hats and snare. The vocals are infectious, sometimes soaring over the mix, other times following the rhythm mesmerically. At times, the singing drops out, giving way to jammy sections of dueling guitar and electric piano soloing. Then there is the Kraftwerkian electro-boogie glory of “Depression” by Sound On Sound. Pocket calculator synthesizers blaze with sci-fi flare over a propulsive groove, accented by brass fanfares and catchy midnight diva chanting. The drums are cavernous and pounding, surrounded by bongos, sparkling chimes, and tropical mallets, everything working towards balearic dancefloor fire.

Side C starts off in a jazz leaning afro-groove with “What You Are” by Pete Brandt’s Method. Plucked contrabass ambulates over a hypnotic hand percussion shuffle, the mix embellished with moody organ chords, cinematic strings, sax solos, and fragile multi-tracked vocals. “Tambo Machay” by Lost Gringos seems like it could fit on any number of the amazing African/Middle Eastern psych records unearthed by Sublime Frequencies, yet it’s just a couple of German weirdos jamming away. The drum groove is primitive and esoteric, as playful stoned vocals and Floydian blues riffing alternate with furious and exotic Omar Khorshid surf guitar shredding. This side also has Brenda & The Beachballs’ “Dancing’ Thru the Night”. This is a highlight of the whole comp for me, featuring a body moving electro-boogie beat, fluttering melodica spaciness, and Brenda’s vibed out atmospheric vocals. There are spacefunk guitars with psychedelic echo trails firing through the mix as the hypnobass and cosmic fx swirl around the body-moving rhythms. And in a similar mode, though decidedly more sexual and sleazy, is Patrick Forgas’ “Sex Move”. Deep vocals, up front and too familiar, sit atop bright riffing guitars, a pounding bassline, and vibrant funk rhythmics. Late night string synths generate atmosphere as noir saxophone and epic brass themes ring out, joined by sci-fi pads and liquid spaceguitar.

Though it’s the penultimate track, Härte 10’s “Happy New Year” could easily work as an epic closer. After starting with playful tribal echo drums, weird vocoder effects, and airy distorted piano, we take a triumphant turn towards the ecstatic as sleigh bells and starlight chimes float with kaleidoscopic piano and majestic choral synthesizers. It’s like some optimistic march towards the heavens, totally earning its name. “The Whole City Between Us” by Bill Nelson’s Orchestra Arcana is similarly blissed out. Shimmering new age harp tones generate colorful fantasy atmospheres over a gated hard-hitting beat and sunshine electronics. There is something almost Broadcast-like in the childlike-yet-psychedelic nature of the melodies. One of the comp’s most balearic moments comes via Xavier Jouvelet’s “Oeuf en Clock”. This is a strange downtempo fusion odyssey, mixing organic and electronic textures in captivating ways. Tick-tock electronic rhythmics are accented by earthy shakers and jazz cymbals, vocal synthesizers solo alongside smokey and emotional soul singing, washes of mellow and oceanic pads underly bright splashes of aquatic electronics and shimmering chimes, and affecting Spanish guitar enters towards the second half, teasing out cinematic sunset warmth. And there is also the soulful buttery sax jam “Minéralité” by Lou Blic. The drums have a jaunty groove and occasionally we detour into weird sections of voice samples morphed into cerebral patterns alongside sparkly percussive effects, before returning to the head-nodding, blazing saxophone groove out.