#vague plot

[fruityvermint]

Guess who's been MIA because they've been writing milkman fanfiction 😋

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Vague Plot

Vague Plot is made up of New York City avant-indie regulars, veterans of other bands, who got together to make driving, moving, long-form instrumental music a la Can and Popul Vuh during the pandemic: Zachary Cale, Uriah Theriault, Phil Jacob, Ben and John Studer. Of their debut Crying in 9 from earlier this year, Jennifer Kelly wrote, “Vague Plot’s jams shimmer like highways melting in the heat, running straight on through Kansas or Nebraska until they disappear in the undecipherable distance. Which is to say, they go on for a while, repeating the same short grooves ad infinitum, with modest changes, until the measures blow by like mile markers and the journey transcends itself.” All five members contributed picks to this wide-ranging listed.

Phil Jacob (sax/keys)

King Tubby meets Lee Perry — Megawatt Dub, 1997

In my late teens I started getting into dub, particularly King Tubby and Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. It’s tough picking one album, but this is the compilation I keep coming back to over the years. My favorite Tubby track, “Termination Dub,” isn’t here, but the giddy feeling I get from “Come By Yah” and “Perfidia” has no equal. And these are some of my favorite Lee Perry selections as well, particularly “Rainy Night” and “Open the Gate”. There’s an attention to melody here that often gets lost on dub remixes, even while these two are digging deep and pulling everything apart. Every delay drop seems to happen exactly when I want it to, leaping out of the speakers. A lot of the genre classics make me feel locked to the couch in a smoky haze, but this collection pulls me into a dance of dub ecstasy.

Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band — Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller), 1978

Possibly the best music education I ever received was playing in a Beefheart tribute band. The emphasis on polyrhythms as arranged by Don Van Vliet and John French on Trout Mask Replica made me feel music in an entirely new way; that it’s best if things don’t always line up at the beginning or end of a bar, a tension I enjoy searching for. TMR does it so often and with such ferocity that it grows exhausting over the length of the 79-minute album. On the other hand, Shiny Beast manages to incorporate some of those ideas into layers and layers of infectious hooks. From the driving bass line of “Floppy Boot Stomp” to the loping funk of “Tropical Hot Dog” to the stately guitar lines of “Owed T’Alex” to the existential spoken-word closer “Apes-Ma”, every track perfectly highlights a different aspect of what makes Beefheart so unique to my ears.

John Studer (drums)

Slint — Untitled EP, 1994

When I first heard the song “Glenn,” it changed the physicality of my body. Britt Walford has an impressive skill to subtly shift around beats so they gently roll and slide over themselves. It’s as if he’s repeating the same line of poetry but with different punctuation to give it fresh meaning each time.

DJ Shadow — Endtroducing, 1996

The surprisingly refreshing choices around arrangements and samples on this album highlight their unexpected connections. Repetitive, hypnotic rhythms combine with soothing layers of instrumentation and allow every special moment to shine appropriately. Endtroducing then delicately transcends these distant connections to create an entirely new space.

Zachary Cale (guitar)

Sonic Youth — SYR 1: Anagrama, 1997

The music on SYR 1 consists of four instrumentals. The first song “Anagrama” has a beautiful winding arc to it. Over the span of nine minutes, you can hear the band searching and expanding. When I first heard it in 1997, it broadened my sense of not only what guitars could do but also the importance of listening when playing within a group. There's structure but it's extremely loose, there's playfulness but not without restraint. That's a big part of what Vague Plot is about. One thing about Sonic Youth I've always appreciated is that even though they “jam,” they never get trapped into a traditional blues or one-chord vamp freak out. It's modal. Sometimes that can lead to dissonance, but that dissonance has always rubbed against something highly melodic.

CAN — Ege Bamyasi, 1972

I once had a summer job painting dorm rooms at the college I went to. One day I found a discarded CD with no jewel case or artwork. It was Ege Bamyasi. I took it home and put it on not knowing anything about the band. I was completely taken off guard upon hearing it. I could not place it into any known quantity. The inscrutable lyrics, the infectious rhythms and the mystery and sonics of it all; it cracked my brain wide open. To me CAN’s mission was always to find the pulse, vibrate with it and then ultimately dance around it. Vague Plot uses some of that same framework in our music. A singular idea to keep extrapolating on. Now that I know more about music history I can hear Fela Kuti, Stockhausen, disparate folk music as well as 1960s psychedelic rock all mixed up in this record. CAN has always seemed genreless to me in their fearless exploration of style. That’s something we as a band all aspire to. All gates open.

Ben “Baby” Copperhead (bass)

The Staple Singers & Curtis Mayfield — Let’s Do It Again, 1975

Let’s Do It Again is a soundtrack album composed by Curtis Mayfield and performed by The Staple Singers. A few years ago, I had the honor of performing a benefit concert for Little Kids Rock. I was playing guitar in the backing band and one of the singers was Hozier who wanted to do the title track “Let’s Do It Again”. Mavis Staples was also on the bill. It was an unforgettable evening. After the concert, I bought this record on vinyl and it’s been on heavy rotation ever since. The string arrangements are absolutely magical. The whole album is a beautifully recorded masterpiece with Curtis Mayfield and his stellar band backing up The Staple Singers. What more can you ask for?

Ornette Coleman — Change of the Century, 1960

Change of the Century was the first Ornette Coleman album I bought when I was in college. I was interested in the world of “free jazz” and Ornette and his band were the pioneers. Surprisingly, all of it is incredibly melodic with bebop-style phrasing, which I wasn’t expecting at the time. All the musicians have incredible ears to be able to pull this off. Ornette Coleman used the harmolodic system which allowed contrapuntal movement during the solos to avoid a key center. Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins were masters at this and could make any soloist sound great by deep listening, feel and support.

Uriah Theriault (guitar)

Dirty Three — Ocean Songs, 1998

My first exposure to Mick Turner came through this album, which introduced me to a broader range of guitar styles than the folk music I had been listening to. Unlike Fahey’s intricate picking patterns, Mick Turner’s guitar work resonated as lyrical phrases more than prose. Often open and spare, other times stormy and erratic, his guitar created atmosphere and conveyed emotion without relying on virtuosic solos. He and drummer Jim White crafted moody mise-en-scenes for Warren Ellis's main character, and l found myself drawn to the visual storytelling more than the narrative itself. Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to see Mick perform in various forms, but the tour for this album stands out due to a specific memory. During a live performance of “Authentic Celestial Music,” my then-girlfriend passed out right in front of the stage. A stranger and I caught her and moved her to the side. When she came to, her only remark was, “Great song.”

Popol Vuh — Hosianna Mantra, 1972

I was familiar with Popol Vuh only as Herzog’s house band until I heard this album, and it cut immediately. I listened religiously to this enigmatic album over the span of a few years, whenever I took a shower so that my attention was undivided. Defying easy categorization, the collection spans classical, ambient, and krautrock. The title track was haunting, calling back to the only music I knew growing up, Catholic hymns. The guitars, oboe, and harpsichord weave sinewy webs of harmony — more chamber music than rock bravado, more conversation than monologue. The ecclesiastical tenor of the Hosianna Mantra (Hosianna, or "please save") sits uncomfortably amongst its dancy krautrock contemporaries, but the slow-burn nature of this album is anything but stiff. If deep attention is akin to prayer, as suggested by Simone Weil, then to me, this album is a dozen rosaries — penance not required.

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Vague Plot - Mama Tried 06​.​24​.​23

This one popped up with little fanfare earlier this summer — but it deserves a little fanfare! Vague Plot (Zachary Cale, Phil Jacob, Ben Lee, Uriah Theriault, John Studer) are a new NYC-based instrumental combo and as far as I can tell, this live EP is their first offering. Very sweet stuff, crisp angles and sleek styles, sweet twin guitar interplay, groovy sax and synth. Something about its mood and melodies reminds me of the self-titled Television reunion LP from the early 1990s. Hopefully this Plot will continue to thicken.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

To smut, or not to smut... that is the question... 🤔

[in-my-head-i-do-everything-right]

Hallie “The time that you were stranded, I was there before you landed. He was a no show, I made sure you got home”

and that time you were stranded, i was there before you landed. he was a no show, i made sure you got home

Standing in the hallway, right next to his locker which she only knows the location of because of that chem project they had to do together her sophomore year, she realises that she doesn’t really have a choice. Fuck.

“Hey Bingham, can I borrow your phone?”

No she doesn’t have a choice at all. God, why is this her life?

And he’s leaning against his locker, wearing a West Ham Centurion lacrosse hoodie. She bets if she looks down at his feet he’ll have boat shoes on. So fucking predictable. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s smirking down at her. He’s not even that tall, definitely one of those guys who says he’s five eleven while really only being five nine, but she’s so short that she still has to tilt her head back just a little to make eye contact with him.

“Why?” He sounds like he’s already enjoying this. Maybe this is payback, payback for making out with him at a party-- his party-- and then leaving five minutes later. Maybe this is all happening because she ignored his text, and then his other text, and then finally his third text. 

“To make a call.”

He blinks, plays with the strings of the hoodie. He’s good at lacrosse too, which somehow makes it worse. “Don’t you have your own phone, Pressman?” he asks, and it’s mocking, how he says it. Yeah, she probably should’ve texted him back. Maybe that was a little fucked up of her. Just a little. Karma’s a bitch.

“It’s dead,” she says sharply, and he lets out this laugh, something bright, a little light. Something that makes her think that if her phone wasn’t dead right now, the second she got home-- or at least a respectable distance away from him-- she’d text him back. Maybe.

“Who do you need to call?”

Allie sighs. “Just let me use your phone, Bingham.”

“Answer the question, Pressman,” he scoffs. Really, what did she do to deserve to be this short. It’s not fair. Just, like, two more inches, max, and it’d be perfect. Because it’s not fair that he gets to look down at her like that, like-- soft, or something. And that reminds her of that night, not even a week ago, when he’d looked at her like that, right next to his pool, their drinks only half gone. And it wasn’t bad, the kiss, really it wasn’t. It was just--

Nope, this isn’t worth it. So what if it’s storming outside. Thunder, lightning-- she’ll survive. And it’s only a mile, maybe a mile and half home. And she needed to take a shower tonight anyway. And so what if she forgot her coat at home. So fucking what.

God, she hates her life.

“My mom. I need a ride home.”

Harry lets out a soft snort. He’s still leaning against his locker. “What about Cassandra?”

“Off in New Haven for the weekend.”

“And Will?”

She rolls her eyes. “That ass forgot about me here. Whole reason I’m stuck at the school at five thirty in the first place. Had a school paper meeting. He was supposed to drive me home but I guess he was too busy with something else.” Will is going to pay for this, by the way. She cannot believe he’s doing this to her. For the second time. Three times and it’s over for him. She might have to key his car or something. Would that be fucked up?

He makes a face, starting down the hall slowly. She moves to follow him. “Bet he’s off with Kelly.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t surprise me either.”

He pauses. Lightning flashes outside the window. “You know, I could just give you a ride.”

This doesn’t sound like a good idea, but-- yep, there’s more thunder. “I mean… you could.”

He stares over at her. They’re only a few steps from the door. “Do you want a ride, Pressman?” he asks slowly.

She can hear the rain outside. When she stares out the window, she swears she can even see his stupid Maserati. She thought she’d go crazy having to listen to him brag about it during chem. And to be one of those girls riding shotgun-- her literal worst nightmare. Well, maybe not worst. Top ten? Doesn’t matter. What she means is that it’s not a dream of hers to be one of those girls.

But-- he’s staring down at her, something almost soft in his eyes. And that smirk of his is gone, faded around the edges, almost a smile now, maybe a smile now.

“Yeah, Harry,” she finally says. “That’d be great.”

send me a song lyric and a pairing and i’ll write you a drabble

[gothtistic-stims]

I was watching a show about vampires and whenever they feed the victim's skin crunches?? Like an apple???????

[dustedmagazine]

Vague Plot — Crying in 9 (Island House)

Vague Plot’s jams shimmer like highways melting in the heat, running straight on through Kansas or Nebraska until they disappear in the undecipherable distance. Which is to say, they go on for while, repeating the same short grooves ad infinitum, with modest changes, until the measures blow by like mile markers and the journey transcends itself.

“Moto” which opens, metes out the time in sharp, strummed intervals, a little syncopation marking irregular edges in the tick-tocky flow. And within that context, a sax can wail, a guitar can howl, a lick can bloom and fade and collapse in distortion. There’s order so that disorder can grow, a white picket fence around wild tangles of vegetation.

Vague Plot is made up of New York City avant-indie regulars, veterans of other bands, who got together to make driving, moving, long-form instrumental music a la Can and Popul Vuh during the pandemic. The one you’d probably pick out of a line-up first is Zachary Cale, here one of two guitarists, alongside Uriah Theriaultof Woodsy Pride. Phil Jacob of Psychic Lines plays the sax sometimes and a keyboard otherwise, while Ben Copperhead plays bass and John Studer drums.

The music grows contemplative in blues-tinged “Haunted Head” before spinning off into psychotropic grooves, like some weird mesh of Loren Connors and Om. It attains purity in the slow-evolving tones of closer “Windswept” which has a bit of Kluster in its crystalline lucidity.

You might think, with Cale involved, that there’s be a rustic rocker thread in Vague Plot’s aesthetic, a little Neil Young crashing through the motorisms. There mostly isn’t, sorry to disappoint, except oddly enough, on the tape’s best cut, “Cyclic.” Here Jacob’s sax wanders in and around a heavy groove that’s ever so slightly shaded with country rock tones. It’s a puzzle palace, a metronomic experiment in extended pulse, but with a ragged heart, and it’s the wildest and most excellent part of an excellent little album. Fuck the cowbell. Let’s have more guitar.

Jennifer Kelly    

[cityblocks-vs-countrymiles]

Vague Plot - All The Roads Are Wrong (Live)