back in stock as of
december 6th, 2011
first in stock on
july 8th, 2008
|weird forest (usa) #weird 007 lp|
hexlove / faulouah “free jazz from slavery” double long playing record set
- aztec vs. dolphin
- lots of wings carry seeds
- the beats originulling
- dew, fields feel
- they’re bronze rusts
- don’t say i didn’t warm yah
- grump up the volume
- trying to get bugs off your body
- rainy road worrier
- god is good, goddess is great, let us thank her for our moon
- exits very damp
- big happy lotus
- jummins vibe
|june 2008 release ; righteous collaborative double-lp by two one-man acts, each centering around the same person (try to get your head around that) - prints / who’s your favorite son god member zac nelson ...|
the first record is concerned with a kind of deconstructed contemporary acid-rock (kind of hard to put it into words actually ; the only things i can think of that even come close are early royal trux & the wonkier end of the wham city spectrum) but then the second offers up some very, very nice electro-acoustic drone-smithing (coming across as a kind of bedroom / analogue take on fennesz, even recalling some of the woolier material on those john cale “in the 60s” discs) ...
as with most/all recent weird forest produkt, chad has outdone himself ; full-spec/color gatefold (vaguely pornographic, but i’ll leave that to the authorities) - really great record & a great place to start if, like me, you’ve been befuddled thusfar by the whole nelson-centric omniverse ...
|weird forest press release...|
hexlove / faulouah
free jazz from slavery 2xlp
if one were dim enough to go about explaining the new double lp from hexlove / faulouah by pointing up parallels between it and the future-thinking music which has surely influenced its creator, i imagine the task wouldn’t be too daunting. one may first notice that free jazz from slavery is awash in the sublimely complex percussion patterns of 20th century composers like harry partch, eugene kurtz, and iannis xenakis. or one might wonder if zac nelson, the man in the cockpit of this thing, hadn’t been listening to another green world since he was in the womb. and certainly it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the jibing spirit of early-eighties pere ubu experimentation is all over the more flippant efforts like don’t say i didn’t warm yah and the watery blurb that opens the record, aztec vs. dolphin.
this, though, is the wrong way to go about listening to or talking about any of hexlove / faulouah’s work. musical ancestors are worn proudly on nelson’s sleeve, but as eagerly as he celebrates them, he also delights in taking them, along with himself, down a peg. the snarky punning of the album’s title, the faux-shamanic chanting and cooing, the deliberately murked-up and buzzing arrangements all belie an agenda that involves not only a glad embrace of the less austere reaches of avant-gardism but a pointed critique of its elitism and intellectual posturing. tracks like the doom-laden lots of wings carry seeds, which pulses like the metabolism of some slumbering extinct beast, display a staggering sense of grey beauty but are quickly undercut when nelson begins to take a more blithe and self-deprecating tack. this, though, is not to the record’s detriment; it never falls into mere novelty or self-parody. the sheer technical brilliance, evident on every track, earns quite a big spot on nelson’s cheek to put his tongue in. the most glorious moments, though, are those in which he is able to marry these two tendencies, as on the desperate and busy grump up the volume, which opens the second side of the first record. and this is just the first record.
all doubts that may have been lingering about nelson’s seriousness or capabilities vanish completely after even the most cursory listen to the second record. alone it is a startlingly focused and beautiful ambient masterwork, but it shines all the more when it is coupled with the chaos of the first record. the long, breathing pieces are tranquil and meditative yet never naive or on the look-out for a place in the new age. under every track, however spare and delicate, lurks an anxiety that constantly threatens to swallow all delusions of well-being. though it drones and broods, it is never without texture. alive with the haunting organ of exits very damp or the subtle xylophone flourishes of big happy lotus, it manages to maintain a clean, coherent spirit without becoming sterile or devolving into massage music. the sidelong closer and centerpiece of the album, psychopomp, though, is as sparse and heavenly as music gets, but it still attains such a raw human beauty that after you hear it, the last thing you want to do is lie down for a massage. rather, you want to run out and find the human who created it and thank him.
— steve rodgers
limited to 500 copies on green and orange vinyl with full color gatefold jackets.