{"title":"Palilalia Records","description":null,"products":[{"product_id":"recorded-in-miami-1989-1991","title":"Recorded In Miami 1989-1991","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cmeta charset=\"UTF-8\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e\"I was hanging out with Bill Orcutt at the 930 Club nearly 30 years ago, watching a famous post-rock band (who shall remain nameless, but whose moniker contained two-and-a-half times more articles and conjunctions than nouns) when he said: 'This band is like my band in college—all major 7th and 9th chords.' I relate this to emphasize that in the case of Bill Orcutt and Harry Pussy, the seemingly untutored ooze of 'Please Don't Come Back From the Moon' and 'Girl With Frog' had its genesis in something far more Apollonian than is usually understood. It's debatable whether or not Watt, the duo of Orcutt and drummer Tim Koffley featured on Recorded in Miami, is the above referenced grad-school band. Watt is not resplendent with jazz chords, but it's certainly more tutored, offering a mannered link between the contemporaneous Thunders-esque punk of Orcutt's Trash Monkeys and Harry Pussy's mayhem. The continuity with Harry Pussy is more than temporal. Recorded in Miami is Orcutt's first use of the four-string guitar, and Harry Pussy claimed the same amp and drum kit. The resemblance more or less ends there. To further put Recorded in Miami—made on Orcutt's Walkman, Rat Bastard's North Miami studio, and South Miami's Natural Sound (total bill $289)—into context, consider the fecundity of the underground music world as the '80s rolled into the '90s. It's hard to relate to those who missed it, but it was a time when post-hardcore hadn't quite given way to the bloat of grunge, when the Minutemen held sway (for the moment) over Led Zeppelin. The indie world was ruled by an ever-propagating compost heap of jagged guitar bands like TFUL282, Truman's Water, and (to crank it back a couple years) Phantom Tollbooth. And in some ways (although Orcutt swears Watt's prime influences were James Blood Ulmer and Fred Frith's Massacre ), this record seems very much cut from that decade-ending cloth, seemingly only one vocal overdub away from a Homestead catalog number. Track after track (mostly titled after episodes of Art Clokey's slyly Buddhist TV masterwork, Gumby), Recorded in Miami 's tracks spill over with right angles, rockist tropes, and verse \/ chorus structures, from the Minutemen oid funk of 'Band Contest' to the stroked Moore-Ranaldo-isms of 'The Young and the Decoding.' Yet Orcutt's fretboard-spanning angular melodic runs are right up front in the latter, and the final two tracks introduce a bit of the explosive chaos that would follow when Adris finally claimed the drum kit. Consider 'Wattstock,' where Koffley forms the bedrock for an extended Orcutt hotbox of instantly-composed harmolodics. Or 'God Are You There, It's Me, Watt,' where we can hear the spontaneous vocal bursts (the only vocals on the album) that would re-emerge on Orcutt's early solo records. Watt began to crumble when Koffley, as drummers will do, yearned for rhythmic grids of increasing complexity, while Orcutt instead wanted to 'smoke more pot and improvise.' For a few records with Harry Pussy, Orcutt would get his wish (though some of the structuralism of Watt would creep into later records). But we shouldn't regard Recorded in Miami as mere transitional scraps of juvenalia, or stunt-rock delivered for the mere thrill of pulling it off. Rather, it's an early, major piece of the unfolding and complex puzzle of Orcutt's music. A foundation. And without the earth beneath our feet, how can we ever reach the sky?\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Palilalia Records","offers":[{"title":"LP - Black","offer_id":57376344506699,"sku":"R5693-7111","price":29.99,"currency_code":"GBP","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0867\/1120\/6219\/files\/2000x2000bb_e1090234-2e55-4361-be85-5c9a6fc63331.jpg?v=1779192726"},{"product_id":"the-flower-school","title":"The Flower School","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cmeta charset=\"UTF-8\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003eSince exploding on the improvised music scene a couple of years ago Tennessee native Zoh Amba has found herself engaging with an ever-widening group of collaborators as she tours across the US and Europe. She’s forged some enduring partnerships, working regularly with drummer Chris Corsano, bassist Thomas Morgan, and pianist Micah Thomas, among others, but one of the deep pleasures of improvised music is when a first- time meeting produces sparks. Indeed, that’s certainly the case with The Flower School, which bottles some serious lightning. In March of 2023 Amba and Corsano had finished up a duo tour of the west coast with an explosive performance in San Francisco. The next day the duo entered the studio with guitarist Bill Orcutt—a trusted collaborator of the drummer stretching back a decade. It was the first time Orcutt and Amba had ever played together, but it sure doesn’t seem that way. Although Amba has often recorded a bunch of tune-oriented albums for Tzadik she’s a free improviser at heart, and this trio arguably provides the most effective, elastic context for her playing yet. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eYet what’s most astonishing about \u003cem\u003eThe Flower School \u003c\/em\u003eis how it elevates and transforms the playing of all three participants. It appears that there was more than enough trust in the room to allow each player to push-and-pull. Anyone who pays attention already knows that Orcutt and Corsano are mercurial figures, perpetually adapting, adjusting, and challenging one another so that every performance by their duo seems to spring from a different inspirational source. Inviting a third person to the party could threaten a slowly cultivated balance—whether between Orcutt and Corsano or Corsano and Amba—but in this case the addition only heightened various dichotomies: soft vs. loud, bruising vs. tender, furious vs. lyric. Much has been made of Amba’s debt to the free jazz of 1960’s, particularly the way her vibrato-drenched tone dips into valley of sacred music, but here she carves out a space that’s entirely hers. On tracks like “The Morning Light Has Flooded My Eyes” and “What Emptiness Do You Gaze Upon!” she reveals a meticulously sharpened gift for motific improvisation, taking a single phrase and chiseling away it until she’s discovered every possible permutation, all the while driven by the feverish energy and empathy of her cohorts. This group also displays Orcutt’s masterful support skills, as he often takes a single chord or two, letting them float in mutate in the background or splintering them into patient, reserved arpeggios that ripple alongside Corsano’s circular sculptures and the saxophonist’s edgy blowing. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eTwo of the album’s five tracks are duets between Orcutt and Amba. The collection is bisected by “Sweet One,” a delicate lattice formed by Orcutt’s tremulous electric guitar arpeggios and Amba’s spike acoustic pointillism that basks in its own leisurely beauty for a couple of restorative minutes, while the album closer “Moon Showed But No You” is a searingly beautiful ballad where the guitarist unspools clusters of notes somewhere between vintage Loren Mazzacane Connor and a distorted kalimba, while Amba puts an upwardly arcing melodic line through its paces, finding new wrinkles at every turn. Here’s hoping that this recording is the start of something, but even if this album is the beginning and end, the level of communication and rapport feels eternal.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Palilalia Records","offers":[{"title":"CD","offer_id":57376754958667,"sku":"R3050-1248","price":16.99,"currency_code":"GBP","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0867\/1120\/6219\/files\/a0786951530_10.jpg?v=1779193658"}],"url":"https:\/\/shop.roughtrade.com\/de\/collections\/palilalia-records.oembed","provider":"Rough Trade","version":"1.0","type":"link"}