Friday, March 31, 2017

Krautrock: Tony Conrad with Faust, Outside the Dream Syndicate (1973)

Faust, the band from Wümme in northern Germany outside of Hamburg, is one of a handful of Krautrock acts invariably named whenever the genre is considered.

We’ll discuss the curious circumstances of their formation and initial marketing soon enough when the time arrives to consider the four Faust LPs included among Julian Cope’s list of “50 Kosmische Classics.” Today Faust gets to make an early, cameo appearance in our survey, though, as part of a discussion of one other record on which they appeared, one for which they played a supporting role to Tony Conrad, the avant-garde filmmaker, musical and artist from New Hampshire.

As a filmmaker and later video artist, Conrad earned significant renown for his various formal experiments during the 1960s and after. His first film, The Flicker (1966), consists primarily of just solid black and white frames alternating in an intermittent sequence for a half-hour. Some walked out of screenings, while others endured headaches or nausea (take a look at excerpts on YouTube, if you dare).

Other Conrad experiments in cinema included Yellow Movies (1972-73), actually patches of emulsion painted directly on walls inside of painted frames, with the emulsion subsequently reacting (very slowly) over time, and Pickled Film (1974) which involved stuffing film in bottles of vinegar and showing it that way (and not through a projector).

Conrad passed away at 76 almost a year ago, and not long after his death came the release of an acclaimed documentary Tony Conrad: Completely in the Present. The trailer gives you a further idea of his personality and artistic envelope-pushing (while also featuring music from today's album):

Conrad made a lot of music during his life as well, including belonging to a famous ensemble of experimental musicians known as the Theatre of Eternal Music, a.k.a. the Dream Syndicate. The group included important figures like La Monte Young, Jon Hassell, Angus MacLise, and John Cale, and tended largely toward minimalism and drone music. In other words, as with film, Conrad frequently challenged formal boundaries in music as well.

Speaking of Cale, Conrad played an important role in the Velvet Underground’s backstory, and in fact with Cale and Lou Reed played in the Primitives, the pre-VU band that only lasted long enough to make one single in 1964. Conrad is in fact credited with having indirectly inspired the name of Reed and Cale’s famous band, the pair having once visited his New York City apartment where Conrad had laying around a copy of Michael Leigh’s 1963 book about sexual perversion, The Velvet Underground.

During the middle-to-late ’60s Cale oversaw a series of recordings titled “Inside the Dream Syndicate” featuring the collective. The title of Conrad’s 1973 collaboration with Faust thereby casts the LP as a kind of companion work.

The record came about after a chance meeting in New York between Conrad and a filmmaker from Hamburg. The filmmaker knew Uwe Nettelbeck, Faust’s producer, and suggested he might be interested as well in Conrad’s music. Conrad flew to Germany and met Nettelbeck who took him to a farmhouse.

“It was these people Faust,” Conrad later explained in an interview. “They had been, to some substantial degree, incarcerated in this farmhouse for months, and they had their partners and sexual liaisons and different social complexities enacted on a long-term basis within this farmhouse. It was a microcosm, where everything seemed to have been evolving in some strange way over the course of months and months.”

By then Faust had recorded its first two records (Faust and Faust So Far) and were in the midst of a process that would result in their next (and best) two LPs appearing in 1973 (The Faust Tapes and Faust IV).

“It was no wonder that they really didn't really have a lot of involvement with me,” said Conrad of the group. ”But Uwe said that they wanted to do stuff too, so we did one that was my style, and one that was more like a rock 'n' roll style. That's how there's two sides.”

Conrad refers to the two side-long tracks that comprised the original LP, culled from three days’ worth of recording at the farmhouse. Conrad plays violin along with Faust’s Werner Diermaier (drums), Jean Hervé Péron (bass), and Rudolf Sosna (guitar/keyboards).

The song on Side 1, a 27-minute long experiment titled “From the Side Of Man And WomanKind,” is the one Conrad refers to as “my style.”

“I basically said, ‘Keep an even beat going through the whole thing,’ which is almost impossible,” explained Conrad. The track is a remarkable feat of discipline, the Faust members keeping time and never wavering from their metronome-like march while Conrad’s violin drones overhead. Kind of like The Flicker, it’s a disorienting piece. Some will find it maddening, while others might be tempted to dismiss it as joke art. Meanwhile there are those who sincerely regard it as a powerful, utterly absorbing track.

Side 2, “From The Side of the Machines,” lasts nearly as long, but features a generally lighter mood. It’s a more dynamic piece, though is still carefully circumscribed within relatively tight parameters of rhythm and melody. The intensity increases as it goes, becoming almost menacing at times. Sosna’s keyboard surfaces about halfway through, mostly mimicking Conrad’s drones while covering everything over with a kind of soft-focus psychedelic patina.

(Bonus tracks of varying length from the same sessions appear on subsequent reissues but don’t introduce anything particularly distinct.)

Some describe Outside the Dream Syndicate as “meditative” or “hypnotic,” but that’s not the case for me at all. The record just keeps aggressively demanding our attention, forcing us back time and again to focus on the mechanics of the performance.

This is one of those records that reminds me of Brian Eno’s quote: “Avant-garde music is sort of research music. You’re glad someone’s done it but you don’t necessarily want to listen to it.”

Even so, like some of Conrad’s hard-to-watch films, Outside the Dream Syndicate is often held up as a signal work in minimalism, drone music, and the eclectic Krautrock genre. Check it out, if you dare.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Krautrock: Cluster, Sowiesoso (1976)

Cluster’s fourth LP (and third and last included among Julian Cope’s “50 Kosmische Classics”) is perhaps the duo’s most melodic and pleasant disc, making it a good starting point for those wishing to be introduced to the Berlin-based electronic music pioneers.

I haven’t delved too deeply into a lot of post-1970s stuff from Dieter Moebius and Hans-Joachim Roedelius -- between the two they each appeared either together or separately on more than a hundred records during their long careers. That said, Sowiesoso stands as a favorite Cluster disc for me and the one I dial up most often.

The seven-plus minute title track (which means “Anyway”) that opens the disc offers a rhythmic, soothing groove with an added fluttering synth that is always welcoming. Though repetitive, there’s an uncanny sense of forward progress evident throughout, and a polish that distinguishes this record from a few of the more slapdash-seeming Zuckerzeit tracks.

“Halwa” comes next, compiling an moody, effective ensemble of keyboards and synth. “Dem Wanderer” (“the hiker”) then ambles through, circling back to its starting point in a pleasing way. The first side closes with “Umleitung” (“detour”), in which a soft two-note pattern provides a context for some playful percussion and wordless chanting as though we’ve stumbled on a hippies-in-the-woods campfire scene.

Side 2 opens with the lovely “Zum Wohl” (“for the benefit”), one of those wistful, plaintive tracks Cluster sometimes produces that work both as non-intrusive ambient and as an aural object rewarding close study. Another delicate construction, “Es War Einmal” (“once upon a time”) follows, tiptoeing through a few different synth paths before resolving into a breathing-like pattern of exhaling and inhaling. “In Ewigkeit” (“for eternity”) rounds out the program, its jazzy “afterglow’ like feel like a nice nightcap.

Following Sowiesoso would come Cluster’s famous get-together with fellow sound explorer Brian Eno, with the collaborations producing two well-liked albums by fans of both -- Cluster & Eno (1977) and After the Heat (1978).

Despite being a dedicated Enophile myself, I only have a modest liking of these two albums, in part because they sound as though Cluster’s identity gets subsumed by Eno, making the records less satisfying (to me) than either Cluster’s own work or Eno’s ambient output from the same period (Discreet Music, Music for Airports, Music for Films).

Take Sowiesoso for a walk here while you surf or work on other things, and see what you think about this “thinking music”:

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Krautrock: Cluster, Zuckerzeit (1974)

Along with Tangerine Dream and Klaus Schulze (both of whom appear with entries among Julian Cope’s “50 Kosmische Classics”), Cluster is part of the so-called “Berlin school” of electronic music also regarded as an important Krautrock offshoot (or interloper, depending on your point of view).

Dieter Moebius and Hans-Joachim Roedelius’s variety of “space music,” much of which might be classified also as “ambient” or “thinking” music, would directly influence some of Brian Eno’s later experiments, as well as David Bowie’s collaborations with Eno later in the decade. In fact, Eno was in the middle of collaborating with Cluster on two full-length LPs at the time he began working with Bowie on his famed “Berlin” trilogy (Low, “Heroes,” Lodger).

Cluster’s third album Zuckerzeit detours from the duo’s first two records (and the three Kluster LPs that came before), offering a more accessible variety of proto-“synth pop” instrumentals with a greater emphasis on melody and rhythm. The title means “sugar time,” and with Michael Rother of Harmonia helping with production, the sweeter sound contrasts sharply with the darker moods of the earlier discs.

“Hollywood” is an absorbing opener, immediately rewarding the listener for having set the needle down with a groovy, mellow march. “Caramel” similarly employs programmed percussion while cycling through a slightly more zealous-sounding loop, though the mood remains light.

That track segues directly into “Rote Riki,” a lengthy collection of electronic buzzes and chirps underpinned by a kind of equestrian-flavored clip-clop percussion (kind of a distant precursor to the goofy “Die Bunge” from Cluser & Eno). “Rosa” then completes the first side with an echoey synth exercise similar to some Kraftwerk and Harmonia.

The second side opens with “Caramba,” another track featuring a repetitive rhythm hammered out on overlapping keyboards. “Fotschi Tong” follows, giving the drum machine prominence while the duo dance up and down the synth in a somewhat claustrophobic way. “James” then incorporates plodding multi-tracked guitars and bass in a manner that might suggest a kind of 25th-century John Lee Hooker if you cup your ears just right.

“Marzipan” is another bite-sized confection, featuring still more synth noodles tangling with each other. The slight “Rotor” likewise aims for cuteness amid mechanized monotony. Finally the short “Heiße Lippen” saves things by reprising the cool formula “Hollywood” in a merry, head-bobbing way.

This record starts promisingly for me but trails off, with most of the latter tracks sounding a little too much like inconclusive dabbling with available machinery for my tastes (“Heiße Lippen” being the exception). I mean, I have a sweet tooth and love candy as much as anyone else who does -- but you can’t make a meal out of it.

I’ll grant the record’s historical significance. I’ll even argue that the best tracks here challenge contemporaries like Kraftwerk, Neu!, and Harmonia while variously prefiguring the work of later artists like Four Tet, Autechre, Boards of Canada, Bill Nelson, Air, and -- most importantly -- the Eno of Another Green World and certain other ambient outings.

But for the most part I tend to agree with Julian Cope’s assessment that “the whole album seems like merely snatches of some passing car’s stereo turned up full.” See what you think:

Monday, February 13, 2017

Krautrock: Cluster, Cluster II (1972)

As noted at the start of this series, the category of “Krautrock” is hardly homogeneous. Rather it includes a wide variety of wholly dissimilar artists, many of whom didn’t even care that much to be thought of as belonging to a musical movement (let alone one named after an epithet).

In any case, within the Krautrock kaleidoscope there’s a subcategory of electronic and/or synth-based music such as represented by groups like Tangerine Dream, Kraftwerk, Cluster, and others. Some prefer to carve these mechanized maestros away and set them outside the Krautrock circle, keeping bands that tend to feature (mostly) prog-rock instrumentation like Amon Düül, Can, Faust, and Neu! positioned at the center.

I’m not one to fuss too greatly over where the lines are drawn, usually inclined instead just to consider as Krautrock just about any music made in Germany during the late 1960s and 1970s that cannot readily be described as “Schlager” -- that is, the inoffensive, lightweight pop that often filled the German charts during those years.

Many Krautrock acts had a dim view of Schlager, thinking of it as mindless and redundant, and were thereby motivated to shun the traditional forms and themes exhibited by it. And while some Krautrockers certainly absorbed Anglo and American influences (blues, rock, jazz), others very deliberately eschewed those influences as well, wanting to create something entirely new and seemingly untouched by other influences.

Worth noting here as well was the country’s troubled, horrific political history which for many young adults discouraged any identification with their own nation’s past. Some of these artists pointed back to Germany’s “stunde null” or “hour zero,” a reference to the moment World War II concluded and the start of an entirely new Germany disconnected from its former Nazi-led state.

This idea of an absolute break with the past was sometimes reflected in the free-form, experimental music some of these acts created, with the electronic tradition being especially inviting given its relative newness and the lack of history or set of common practices. The band Cluster -- essentially the duo of Dieter Moebius and Hans-Joachim Roedelius -- is our first example of such technological trailblazers from Germany who helped shape the modern era of electronic music.

To step back just a bit, we should mention that pair’s earlier work with another important figure in German electronic music, Conrad Schnitzler, in a band similarly (and confusingly) named Kluster. First forming at the short-lived though influential and fertile Zodiac Arts club in Berlin, as a trio they made three LPs in short succession at the start of the ’70s, each of which is innovative and interesting.

Klopfzeichen (1970), recorded at the same time as Tangerine Dream’s debut Electronic Meditation (on which Schnitzler also appears) emphasizes percussion and voice. Zwei-Osterei (1971) provides an eerie soundtrack to a dramatic reading of a nonsensical text Schnitzler claimed sounded better if you didn’t know German. And finally, Eruption omits the spoken word entirely, instead mixing organ, cello, electric guitar, tape effects, percussion, and feedback in rhythmically pleasing ways.

All three Kluster LPs originally had very limited pressings (just 200 or 300 copies), though were reissued on CD in the 1990s and found their way online not long after that, making them much more accessible.

Schnitzler then moved on, leaving Moebius and Roedelius to start afresh as Cluster, with producer Conrad Plank initially listed as a new third member. The debut was released in 1971 by a label run by the Dutch electronics company Philips whose list of acts included early Kraftwerk plus an eclectic variety of pop and classical acts from around the world.

Cluster (or Cluster ’71, as it sometimes appears) features a more cinematic and expansive sound than is found on the sometimes claustrophobic Kluster LPs, its resonating waves smoothly progressing from one “scene” to the next in intuitive, logical-seeming ways. That the tracks are titled after their lengths (“15:33,” “7:38,” “21:17”) further underscores the tendency toward abstraction.

Cluster then signed with Brain Records of Hamburg run by a couple of artists & repertoire guys who’d defected from the popular Krautrock label Ohr. Though only active for five years, Brain would issue numerous Krautrock classics including releases by Neu!, Harmonia, Klaus Schulze, all Popol Vuh who all also appear among the “50 Kosmische Classics.”

For Cluster II, Moebius and Roedelius presented themselves as a duo with Plank being listed as a producer and earning co-writing credits for all six of the tracks.

The mechanical, ominous “Plas” kicks it off, sounding like a dark, disorienting ride through an underground mine shaft with the mix of sounds disorienting your sense of near and far. The almost 13-minute “Im Süden” follows, featuring distorted, menacing guitars marching through a repetitive though slowly evolving dirge that ultimately resolves into a quiet, industrial wasteland. The first side then ends with the short “Fur die Katz” (“for the cat”), a collage of effects, modulated guitars, and electronic purring.

The second side begins with the almost 15-minute “Live In Der Fabrik” (“live in the factory”) featuring a rapid rhythm that mimicks some sort of futuristic production line. “Georgel” follows, a spooky experiment with organ and tape manipulation. The noisy cacophony of “Nabitte” (“there you are”) then provides a rapid postlude.

There something remarkably stimulating -- both intellectually and emotionally -- about both the Kluster records and these early Cluster LPs. It’s all very different from the other Krautrock we’ve covered, and indeed different from much else happening at the time.

That’s the point, of course, although soon enough many other artists would start to cluster around Moebius and Roedelius and demonstrate their influence for many years to come.

Friday, February 03, 2017

Krautrock: Can, Delay 1968 (1981)

The fifth and final Can album Julian Cope includes among his “50 Kosmische Classics” is one I wouldn’t necessarily insist upon as a must listen for anyone other than the band’s most ardent fanatics.

Delay 1968 is an unreleased collection of tracks recorded prior to the band’s 1969 debut and released much later in 1981. Intended initially as the band’s first LP, labels shied away, causing Can to shift gears slightly and try again. Some of the record’s seven tracks surfaced here and there on bootlegs, with the best of the bunch -- “The Thief” -- getting an official release on a compilation in 1970.

The record further establishes Can’s reputation as proto-punksters while also elevating Malcolm Mooney’s importance both to early Can and suggesting even more of an influence by him over the “classic” Damo Suzuki-led lineup that followed his departure.

“Butterfly” opens with a grungy, droning sound that like other early Can points back to the Velvet Underground and ahead to Metal Box-era Public Image Limited. A modest organ stars during the first half of the tune, then percussion steps up for the latter half while Mooney chants about a dying butterfly.

“Pnoom” follows, a goofy bit of Beefheart-like sax squonking that got included in the band’s “Ethnological Forgery Series” of odd fragments. “Nineteen Century Man,” a suitably primitive-sounding jam with nonsense lyrics sounding vaguely accusatory (of a “nineteen [sic] century man” who is behind the times?).

“The Thief” ends the first side, the most melodic and pleasing track on the LP. Has a doom-laden vibe the urgency of which matches the singer’s lament (“why must I be the thief?”). Radiohead spotlighted its debt to Can with intense live performances of “The Thief” (one is included below).

The second side starts with a noisy one about a “Man Named Joe” that sounds excerpted from a longer jam. “Uphill” comes next, probably the most Velvet-sounding song on the record (that not incidentally sneaks in the adjective “velvet” multiple times modifying various nouns). Finally “Little Star of Bethlehem” recounts a strange, surreal meeting between two characters named Froggy and Toady.

There’s historical value here, but as I noted in the previous review I’m much more in favor of following Can’s story forward into its “late” era prog masterworks than to forage around too much back here before the beginning.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Krautrock: Can, Ege Bamyasi (1972)

Ege Bamyasi is the fourth of five Can albums included among Julian Cope’s “50 Kosmische Classics,” the fifth (Delay 1968) being a compilation of unreleased material from the band’s “early” period.

Even the band’s most ardent fans forget (or ignore) the full title of this one -- “Ege Bamyasi Okraschoten.” They also either disagree or never bother to figure out how to pronounce it. As far as I’ve been able to tell, “bamyasi” is Turkish for okra while “ege” alludes to a company from Istanbul that among other things canned vegetables. Whatever you call it, “the one with a can of okra” deserves a spot near the top of any discerning listener’s Krautrock rankings.

Contrasting with the epic that preceded it (Tago Mago), Ege Bamyasi presents a (relatively) less freaky selection of seven accessible tracks, even producing a top 10 single in Germany. While lead singer Damo Suzuki would stick around for one more album before departing the group, Cope nonetheless regards Ege Bamyasi as “the only true Damo Suzuki/Can album” given the turn toward more instrumental, prog-like music subsequently produced by the band.

A short burst of feedback heralds the opening track, the nine-plus minute “Pinch.” It’s a highly funky, Electric Miles era-type groove over which Suzuki improvises nonsensical word associations (in English). “Sing Swan Song” follows, the sound of running water giving way to a soft, lullaby-like tune that gradually fades up to reveal what sounds a bit like an incantation amid its many layers of effects-laden guitars. By contrast, the driving “One More Night” closing out the first side features crisper-sounding clarity, with harmonics propelling the tune forward not unlike an Eno-era Talking Heads track.

Side Two begins with a moody number titled “Vitamin C” in which Suzuki enigmatically croons to someone about losing his or her vitamin C (a symbol for strength?). The track throbs along, giving bassist Holger Czukay lots of room to caper about, before finally resolving into the uncanny electronic warbling that becomes the next dish, the ten-plus minute “Soup.” After a few minutes of percussive head-bopping, “Soup” slips back into the avant-garde, with an extended sequence of weird chirrups, crashes, sirens, and shouting.

All is made nice again, though, with “I’m So Green,” a track whose super catchy, toe-tapping vibe evokes thoughts of a band of hipsters sneakily sauntering down some trippy sidewalk. The LP then concludes with “Spoon” -- the hit single -- which begins with metronome-like clicking over a vaguely Eastern sounding organ, then builds into yet another fun, trance-like slice of Krautrockin’ pop.

It’s “the closest to a pop LP that Can ever got” writes Cope, a record full of “clear cut songs with grooves of delightful melody and moment, plus a teen-appeal that still leaves me gasping with love for Damo Suzuki.” Partly for that reason, it’s the Can album I’ll often recommend as a starting place for those new to the group.

It also culminates the middle “classic” period of Can records, the “late” period commencing with Future Days (1973) and including Soon Over Babaluma (1974), Landed (1975), Flow Motion (1976), Saw Delight (1977), Out of Reach (1978), and Can (1979) -- the discs I probably spin the most from the band. From there the band split, then reunited with original vocalist Malcolm Mooney for a one-off reunion disc, Rite Time (1989).

Sadly drummer Jaki Liebezeit passed away just last Sunday at age 78. In addition to serving as a core member of Can throughout its run, Liebezeit performed and recorded with numerous other acts over the decades including various side projects by Can members, Jah Wobble, and Michael Rother. He also notably helped percussively-push along the tiny, crowded canoe in Brian Eno’s “Backwater” from Before and After Science.

Here is a nice remembrance of Liebezeit from The Guardian detailing his achievements and remarking on Can's important place in the larger musical landscape.

Meanwhile, crack open this Can and enjoy:

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Krautrock: Can, Tago Mago (1971)

After original lead singer Malcolm Mooney’s abrupt departure from Can -- and from Germany -- in late 1969, the band continued without a frontman for about six months. Then in May 1970 Holger Czukay met Japanese singer Damo Suzuki performing outside a Munich cafe and invited him to perform with the group at a show that evening.

Soon enough they had a singer, and after recording a few songs with Suzuki that appeared on Soundtracks, they spent the latter part of the year recording in a castle near Cologne, ultimately emerging in early 1971 with their masterpiece of dark psychedelia, the double-LP Tago Mago.

“The music sounds only like itself,” says Julian Cope in Krautrocksampler. “It’s pointless to describe the music, but it’s huge free-rock, as though each member of Can has a field to play in.”

The seven tracks take up the 70-plus minutes, a couple of which occupy entire sides. Unlike what appears on Soundtracks (save “Mother Sky”), here Suzuki’s contributions often function like the addition of another instrument to a fusion-y ensemble, his low mumbles and energetic shouts ably augmenting an increasingly exploratory sound.

“Paperhouse” begins the record in somewhat plodding fashion, with Michael Karoli’s charming jingle-jangle strumming quickly encouraging the listener to nod along. A percusion-and-bass driven middle section suddenly accelerates things considerably before reprising the opening that in turn chorus-pedals the Can machine to the finish.

The apocalyptic and moody “Mushroom” follows (via a clever segue), one my favorite “classic” Can tracks and one that has been covered many times over, most notably by The Jesus and Mary Chain. Suzuki’s vocal conveys tangible dread, alternating between frightened whispers and urgent cries over an eerie soundbed culminating with an explosion. From the smoke and ashes fades up the next track, “Oh Yeah,” a repetitive, hypnotic exercise with backwards vocals and a tribal rhythm that will signal to Radiohead fans an important influence.

Side 2 is covered by “Halleluwah,” powered throughout by a melodious, funky groove with Jaki Liebezeit’s stuttering drum providing a determined backbeat crossing Moe Tucker with Jack DeJohnette. Suzuki’s improvised lyrics include references to the titles of other Tago Mago songs, and the sheer variety of sounds (many of which are likewise unscripted) emanating from the guitars, bass, keyboards, and occasional effects and edits together elevate the track to a kind of comprehensive encyclopedia of Can.

“Augmn” takes up Side 3, the title of which alludes to the meditative “om” and/or evokes the idea of a magic spell. The first two-thirds are a formless, electroacoustic imbroglio of various instruments over which keyboardist Irmin Schmidt moans through heavy reverb and echo. Then the last six minutes feature manic percussive work by Liebezeit careening headlong toward some secret inner space.

I was tempted to call “Augmn” the most experimental track of a double record full of experiments, although the 11-minute “Peking O” that begins the final side aggressively takes that title as a multi-part pastiche of noises and effects approaching “Revolution 9”-level weirdness. Finally the short “Bring Me Coffee or Tea” serves as a mostly calming coda, though again builds to a rousing finish with cymbals crashing like so many waves upon the shore.

Named after Illa de Tagomago, a private island off the coast of Ibiza in the Mediterranean, Tago Mago simliarly stands apart as a strange, small marvel on its own amid the early ’70s musical sea.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Phish Mexico Setlist: 1/15/17 Riviera Maya, Mexico

Never miss a Sunday show, especially in Mexico during an odd year in a month that begins with the letter J!

Phish completed their three-show run in Riviera Maya, Mexico. Sunday's show will be webcast via

Here's what you missed on Sunday Funday...
Los Phish, 1.15.16 Riviera Maya, Mexico

Set 1: Boogie On > SIMPLE > Tweezer > Roggae, Nothing, GHOST > YaMar, Stealing Time, Rift, FLUFFHEAD

Set 2: DWD > No Man's Land > SALLY > Possum > CARINI > BOWIE, HOOD

E: Slave, Tweeprise
* * * *
Setlists: FRI 1.13.17 - SAT 1.14.17 - SUN 11.15.17 - MSG NYE 2016

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Phish Mexico Setlist: 1/14/17 Riviera Maya, Mexico

Saturday night in Mexico. What could possibly go wrong? Phish played the second of a three-night run in Riviera Maya. These shows are streamed thru

Here's what you missed on Saturday...
Los Phish, 1/14/17 Riviera Maya, Mexico

Set 1: The Curtain WITH, AC/DC Bag, Breath and Burning, Poor Heart, Halfway to the Moon, The Line, Waking Up Dead, TUBE, Fast Enough for You, Ocelot, Chalkdust

Set 2: Crosseyed and Painless > Blaze On > Meatstick > Winterqueen > Mercury > Light > Velvet Sea

E: Drowned, Rocky Top

Setlists: FRI 1.13.17 - SAT 1.14.17 - SUN 11.15.17 - MSG NYE 2016

Friday, January 13, 2017

Phish Mexico Setlist: 1/13/17 Riviera Maya, Mexico

Phish returned to Mexico for a three-show run on the beach. If you're not going, then you're in lucky because Live Phish will be webcast all three nights.

Here's what you missed....
Los Phish, 1/13/17 Riviera Maya, Mexico

Set 1: FREE, Yarmouth, SAND, Theme, Funky Bitch, Undermind, NICU, Horn, Wolfmans

Set 2: ASIHTOS > Wedge > Fuego > Caspian > Twist > Seven Below, Golgi Apparatus > Antelope

E: Contact, BUG

Setlists: FRI 1.13.17 - SAT 1.14.17 - SUN 11.15.17 - MSG NYE 2016

Tuesday, January 03, 2017

Hal Masa: You Enjoy My Mix - Year End 2016 Mix

Awesome news. I got an email from one of our dear Japanese friends, Hal Masa. You might remember Jpahan Hal Masa from his renditions of You Enjoy My Mix over the years. Well, Hal Masa has returned with a brand new mix to help celebrate the new year. He originally created it as a wedding mix for friends, but now he shares it with us. Arigato, Hal Masa!

Here's what Hal Masa wrote me:

I created brand new you enjoy my mix a.k.a. Year End Mix for my friend's wedding. This is NOT jam but Jazz, Latin & Chillout. Good for a holiday and I hope you like it. Have a Happy New Year!

Track List
Nicholas Veinnoglou / Intro
Norah Jones / The Story
Jack Johnson / Enemy (Worst Friend Remix)
Brokeback / Returns to Orange Glove
Bill Frisell & Ry Cooder/ Shenandoah
Ibrahim Ferrer / Perfume de Gardenias
Tito Puente / Prelude To A Kiss
Poncho Sanchez / Dichoso
DJ Drez & Marty Williams / Going Out of My Head
Jungle brothers/ Brain
Sly & Family Stone / Family Affair
Madeleine Peyroux / Looking for the Heart of Saturday Night
Chet Atkins / Stump Water
Bill Frisell / Good Dog, Happy Man
Luther Dickinson & Anders Osbourne / Black Muddy River
Mumford & Sons / Friend Of The Devil
Marco Benevento / Golden
STS9 / Life’s Sweet Breath
Marvin Gaye / Inner city Blues (Alternate Detroit mix)
Kai Winding / Lil' Darlin'
Norah Jones/ The Long Day Is Over
Bob Dylan / Tomorrow Is a Long Time
Jack Johnson / Wrong Turn (Static Dubstep remix)
Quiet Village / Keep on Rolling
Mark Barott / Back To The Sea

Monday, January 02, 2017

Phish NYE 2016 Rain Gag

Here's the official video of Petrichor > ALS > Suzy Greenberg and the indoor rain gag plus raining cats and dogs...