Flying Lotus “Do The Astral Plane”
(From Cosmogramma out now on Warp)

Cosmogramma is a song cycle in the tradition of classical music: songs flow into each other, thematic ideas are woven throughout each song only to reappear once again, giving the listener the sense that a meta-narrative is being articulated in the arc of this largely instrumental work. Like Lotus’ previous Los Angeles, Cosmogramma borrows from a variety of influences: jazz, indie-rock, hip-hop, downtempo and electronica. This record’s arrangements, however, are far more sophisticated, occupying every available octave of the aural space and seeming at times to slide a percussive element into every potential slot. Sounds like the smooth glissando of a harp, a metallic cough, the hollow echo of a bouncing ping pong ball. Complex melodic, harmonic and rhythmic elements fit together as easily and smoothly as the layers of a wedding cake. Final song, “Galaxy Into Janaki,” conveys ambition and commitment found rarely anywhere in music. One can only dream of what he can accomplish if he keeps progressing at this rate.

—Kristina Benson

Download: Mary Anne Hobbs vs. Gaslamp Killer – Low End Theory Podcast No. 7

(from the Low End Theory Podcast Series from Low End Theory)

Mary Anne Hobbs does for electronica on her BBC Radio 1 show what John Peel did for everything, and for years now she has been delivering L.A.’s best beatmakers to the world. When she first came to L.A. as a girl, she wore a glitter bikini and drove a motorcycle to Hollywood bars to drink with Megadeth, but tonight she’ll be doing a special DJ set at Low End Theory. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

You’ve been such a good friend to Los Angeles music on the BBC.
Mary Anne Hobbs: Well, your city—you’ve got it going on in such a big and serious fashion right now. Los Angeles is without question the most exciting city on the planet. I could feel this incredible sense of momentum building—even an ocean away. I kept hearing about this club, Low End Theory—it was echoing in every corner of my brain. I thought, ‘This club is calling my name right now, so I’m going to have to check it out.’ And that’s where I hatched the plan—in a filthy dirty northern rain in Manchester in an underground car park with Gaslamp Killer, just before Christmas last year. It was without question the most inspiriational trip that I’ve made in years. Those types of clubs are absolutely crucial in terms of providing a home and providing a space that people can gravitate towards and share their ideas and share their dreams. It’s been very important in terms of the whole dub step scene expanding. I think from the second I met Daddy Kev, you can tell he’s a godfather beyond a shadow of a doubt.
You said you can’t categorize an artist like Flying Lotus musically—do you think you can categorize any of the L.A. beatmakers philosophically?
Mary Anne Hobbs: I think for me Lotus is absolutely key. He’s right at the forefront and he is literally building a new sonic causeway brick by brick every day out into the ether. I think in a way you need those types of figureheads—people like Lotus, people who are so brave creatively and fearless in the way they forge these new pathways. Because they lead by example. I always look at Lotus and I think he is like the Hendrix of his generation. What Hendrix did with a guitar, Lotus is doing with electronic instruments. I’ll tell you a good story. The first time I ever saw him he played at a little club on the east end of London called Cargo. I was hanging out with people at Warp and they said, ‘You’re gonna love Steve—you’ve got to meet him after the show.’ He blew my mind so completely when I saw him perform that I literally could not form a sentence at the end of the night and I had to leave the building.
Do you remember what you said to him was when you finally recovered?
Mary Anne Hobbs: I didn’t meet him face to face until Sonar Festival 2008. The first exchange was this incredible bear hug between us because we had so much dialogue online. We developed this incredible friendship. In the aftermath of the Cargo show he asked for an email address and we began to chat backwards and forwards—we did a whole heap more work on the BBC show and then I asked if he would come and play Sonar in 2008. It’s a strange scenario with these virtual relationships that you have because you build incredible bonds that blossom creatively and yet often you might not meet people for years. It’s freaky because you think, ‘I know this person intimately and yet I’ve never shook his hand.’ That’s another reason why clubs like Low End Theory are so crucially important. In my case—and I’m sure it applies to many people—you spend almost your entire life in a virtual world. You live online. Almost every interaction is an electronic exchange. In spite of the fact that I have thousands of friends all over the world, in human terms you are extremely isolated because you do so much in a virtual environment. Even a show is virtual—it pops up in the ether and then it’s gone. So these places that you gravitate towards as kindred spirits—as human souls—to exchange energy and ideas and feel the frequencies of the music in a real tangible physical environment—it’s so important that these places exist! Even more so in 2009! So for me places like Low End Theory and Forward and Sonar in London where everybody gravitates toward each other to exchange those human emotions and to dance and sweat and sing and shout and explore their dreams—they are such important places.
Your new Wild Angels comp is named after an Alice Coltrane reference—do you think there’s a connection between her music or the music of someone like Pharoah Sanders and what’s happening in L.A. now?
Mary Anne Hobbs: That came from an expression that I used in the West Coast Rocks radio documentary that I did as a consequence of that trip I took in January to L.A. and San Francisco. I went to play Alice Coltrane and then I played a Lotus track afterwards which was called ‘Auntie’s Harp.’ It’s a tribute to his aunt. He’s got the beautiful arpeggios in it. I guess Lotus is a product of many different influences but Alice Coltrane—his great aunt—is a significant influence, I feel. A lot of the younger artists he nurtured are now featured on Wild Angels—people like Teebs and Take and Mono/Poly are all his boys and he nurtures them like his great aunt nurtured him, and you hear them traveling the generations. She is a seminal musician. It’s interesting how everyone talks about John Coltrane but actually Alice is absolutely mindblowing. I wanted to work backwards and show that particular reference point. Obviously so much of the new West Coast sound is represented on the record, but you can hear it echoing down the generations. I wish I would have had an opportunity to meet her—it would have been such an honor.
You’ve said that you want to make sure your own radio show exists without prejudice and boundaries.
Mary Anne Hobbs: The way that I see the show in my mind’s eye is like a bridge—it’s like a crazy old rope bridge that hangs across a crevasse in the jungle, and on one side are the world’s most fearless producers and on the other side are the hungriest audience that you could possibly imagine. And what the show does is bring those two groups of people together. There are no prejudices and everybody is welcome. I think at this point in the history of the whole of humanity it seems crazy to be setting up boundaries. That’s how I want it to be—as simple as that. There is now so much online that your choice is infinite. You can listen for the rest of time. I think there is more of a demand for somebody who will do what I do, which is sit there for ten hours a day everyday listening to every conceivable music that comes in and also seeking all the time—at some time you have to draw a line in that sand and say, ‘OK, this is a show—this is what we are going to do this week.’ But I think hopefully people trust me now. They know that I’ll do the work and I’ll do it consistently and they come back to me.
Do you think the artists you play feel the same way about music?
Mary Anne Hobbs: I guess my greatest hero in radio terms was always John Peel. His show would endlessly surprise and delight. Every week was like a Pandora’s box of chaos. You never knew what was around the next corner with Peel. And I think to a degree what was interesting when you listened to Peel was that you would probably only really love about one in three or four records, but you knew that everybody else who was listening would have the same ratio but the records would be different. So I might like record number one and number four and somebody else will love three and seven and everybody would have a different one they thought was incredible. But also with Peel as well you would think, ‘This isn’t necessarily something I would seek out and buy for my record collection but just to hear it—what the hell is this?’ From extreme European death metal to the craziest scratchy old 78 from one of the original blues men to something that he picked up from a tribe in Africa—it could be anything with Peel. Whether or not it was to your own personal taste was almost irrelevant. It was one of those shows that you wanted to hear because you wanted to experience the sounds. It wasn’t a question of him informing a perfect record collection but it was more like an adventure in sound. He was a broad person who knew no boundaries whatsoever and he responded in the same way. He was one of my teachers. I think everybody responds to music emotionally, ultimately. It doesn’t really matter what genre or tempo a piece of music is—it’s twisted into the DNA somehow and it either touches you at the very core or it may be an interesting artifact but it doesn’t move you in the same way. It was Peel’s spirit of adventure in sound that always informed me as a child. I loved it because you would just ride the rapids with him every single week and you had no idea what he was going to do next. He would go to Fabric which is one of the biggest dance clubs and play death metal records just for a laugh. I don’t think there’ll be another John Peel in this life or the next, but that sense of adventure and ambition and that quest that he was on just inspired me so much. And that’s how I feel about music.
You once said one of the most dangerous mistakes you could make would be to underestimate the intelligence of your audience. Do you think that’s why big labels and old media are dying?
Mary Anne Hobbs: That’s a really interesting question. It’s up to every generation to decide their own fate and this is why I do what I do. There’s no point sitting around moaning with your thumb up your ass. If you don’t enjoy what’s out there, go there yourself and try to make a difference. That’s what I’m trying to do with the show. What’s interesting in terms of what’s happening in the UK is that TV used to be the most powerful of all mediums, and now an entire generation of people almost completely disregard it. They are reverting back to listening to pirate radio and they are reverting back to watching YouTube and filming their own films and getting involved—the dubstep scene is a fantastic example of that. An entire scene has become a global thing without any patronage from the broader music industry because nobody wants to go with that shit anymore and everybody wants to be the master of their own destiny. It’s been proven now that it can happen. It’s a really exciting time. This is another thing with Peel—he was part of a different generation but he was an amazing example of how to tread a different pathway. He showed you that there is another way—you don’t have to follow the rest of the sheep, you can build your own pathway. I think what you’re saying is absolutely true. The dumbing down of the media giants’ output will be the death of them because they massively underestimate the audience. You can see now how the drift is happening with this generation. They are just completely disinterested with old school media establishments and they want to do it for themselves.
Is part of this because old big labels stopped caring about the long term and only wanted to get quick next-big-things?
Mary Anne Hobbs: I think that’s really true. In terms of most artists’ lifespans—when they signed a record deal with an old school traditional company—it was only ever meant to be a few years, wasn’t it? Like three albums tops, and beyond that people were always searching for something new. I think now longevity is the key. People want an entire career—they want to be in this game for a lifetime. Record companies in the U.K. are just like loan sharks, really—they hand you a few thousand bucks in advance but 24 hours later they are banging your door down saying, ‘Where is my hit single? I need this money back tenfold!’ They interfere with the tracklisting of the album—they say, ‘There aren’t enough singles on there and we’re gonna call in a whole heap of remixes that you don’t like to make sure we can spin records in the direction of the big DJs!’ You don’t have any control over the artwork or marketing. But if you define yourself online—say who you are and what you stand for—that’s really valuable. The days of Mercedes Benzes and Rolex watches and all that—I think they realize those days are long gone, or certainly you are not going to get them over night. But something like dubstep is like a new blueprint to how a scene can operate globally without any patronage at all from the music industry and continue to grow at an incredible pace. This is what I’m experiencing more and more. People aren’t thinking, ‘This is a teenage crush that I have on music—I’m going to do it for a few years and then I’m gonna become a doctor.’ People want to do this for life—it’s their calling and they want to make it work. But it’s like Darwinism—you have to adapt to survive.
Do you know the painter Joan Miro at all? He said the more true you are to yourself as an individual, the more universal your appeal will be.
Mary Anne Hobbs: I completely agree. For me, the artists that will really make it in the long term are people who come with a completely unique sound. We’re all a product of our influences—that’s what it is to be human. We absorb and process the things that we love. But the idea is to put a unique spin on that. John Peel taught me a number of very valuable lessons but my show does not sound anything like his. The principles that underlay are from him but the show is unique and individual. It’s a really valid point in terms of what I look for on my show—totally elemental pieces of music with their own identity that you would gravitate towards over and above everything else. What’s interesting is that people build up a body of work you can identify without knowing the artist. You can say ‘that’s Lotus’ and the music actually has a direct correlation with that person’s character.
What do you think is most special about what is happening in L.A. right now?
Mary Anne Hobbs: If I had to sum it up in word, it would be freedom. When I attend a club like Low End Theory or I watch an artist like Lotus play, I just see people tearing up the rules and it’s so liberating for me to watch this. I see Lotus play live and I watch that boy screw every conceivable sound into a live set—it doesn’t matter what genre it is! If he thinks that sound belongs in his set on a particular night and the stars are in the right formation, he’s going to find a way to screw it in there. In the U.K., it’s very interesting because we come from a culture where beat matching is very important, other than old school Jamaican dancehall DJs who are pretty much the only people who get away with stopping and starting records. In the U.K. you need a seamless flow of music and you’re not considered a DJ until you can do that. It’s so liberating for me to watch the way that Lotus and Gaslamp and all these people actually construct what they do on the stage. To watch artists play and deliver a set with that degree of freedom in their soul is absolutely incredible—it’s just a complete revelation for me and culturally its totally separate from what you can do in the U.K. It is so liberating because it means that your boundaries are limitless. I’m trying to absorb something of that freedom and distill it and reapply it to what I do because I love that energy and spirit—I haven’t quite figured out how to do it yet.
What were your own years in L.A like?
Mary Anne Hobbs: Oh, it was absolutely incredible. I was 21 years old and I lived in West Hollywood about a block and a half away from Barney’s Beanery and I had a lovely Yamaha motorcycle and I used to ride around in my bikini—I used to hang out at the Rainbow all the time.
Did you have an American flag bikini?
Mary Anne Hobbs: No—it was kind of a navy blue glittery one. These were the days when I would go see Guns ‘n’ Roses play at the Troubadour before they were signed. I was a fully paid up rock chick. Jane’s Addiction used to—before they were signed—play shows in downtown in these really sweaty warehouse raves and I rememer Perry Farrell coming out on stage in all his crazy dreadlocks. He used to wear this red rubber corset back in the day—it was fantastic. I used to hang out on Venice Beach when it was ghetto. I was writing for a music paper in the U.K. called Sounds and so I was interviewing everyone from Guns ‘n’ Roses to David Lee Roth.
Was he as David Lee Roth as you hoped he would be?
Mary Anne Hobbs: Absolutely. Motley Crue—I went on the ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ tour with Motley Crue and Tommy Lee had a very serious conversation with me about the possibility of building a roller coaster around the edge of every venue so he could do his drum solo on a roller coaster. He would tool around in a little roller coaster doing his drum solo. At that point Motley Crue—I’ve never seen so many groupies in my entire life. Their manager used to grade them in what he called ‘dog kennels.’ There was probably something like 300 groupies backstage every night and they would grade them into the amazingly pretty girls and there would be a room of sexual freaks and mother-daughter combos who would do whatever. I’d never seen so many women all sitting on six different passes, five of which were the wrong pass—I don’t know how they went about acquiring those passes. I would dread to think! The tour manager said to me, ‘Do you have any idea the number of road crew that we’ve got working on this tour? These girls are just for the crew—they’ve got absolutely no idea that they will never ever meet the band.’ The shed that I lived in was what they called in L.A. a pool house, so it was a room with a shower in it. I remember every time it rained I had to get all the pans out because the water would just pour through the roof. I used to hang out at a bar called the Firefly which doesn’t exist anymore—it was on Hollywood and Vine. They used to light the bar every night with lighter fuel. Lots of the metal bands like Megadeth and stuff used to hang out in there. You would hop up on the bar and you would talk to some incredible character—it was like being in Pulp Fiction, so yeah—I loved it. Have you seen that movie The Decline of Western Civilization?
Part 2? Is that what it was like?
Mary Anne Hobbs: Slightly earlier than that was made, but I liked a lot of the thrash—it was thrash metal and hair metal in L.A. back then, so David Lee Roth, Jane’s Addiction, Motley Crue, Guns ‘n’ Roses, Megadeth. Metallica could play to a thousand people and them and Megadeth were considered completely avant garde at that point. And Jane’s Addiction too. I just had heard so much about L.A. and on a whim I sold everything that I owned and I bought a one way ticket and I had 600 dollars in my back pocket and I thought, ‘Let me just see how far I can get.’
What’s the most profound thing David Lee Roth ever said to you?
Mary Anne Hobbs: Let me see if I can think of some advice. I remember the best story about David Lee Roth. When he first released Eat ‘Em and Smile, another member of his entourage that I knew very well said to me that every morning the first thing that Dave would ever do before he left his bedroom was see his accountant. This guy would show up at Dave’s house—full suit on, everything—and he would visit Dave in his bedroom. For years and years everybody thought this suited briefcased-up guy was the accountant. Many years later it came out that David Lee Roth was all but bald and this guy was actually his hairdresser—he’d come in every morning and sew in some fresh extensions so that Dave could come out with his hand grenade blond bomb of hair and nobody would ever know any different. So that is probably the best life advice there—whatever you’re lacking, first thing in the morning have a guy with a suitcase come and bring him in as your accountant.

MARY ANNE HOBBS WITH FLYING LOTUS AND NOSAJ THING PLUS ALL LOW END THEORY RESIDENTS ON WED., SEPT. 23, AT LOW END THEORY AT THE AIRLINER, 2419 N. BROADWAY, LOS ANGELES. 10PM / $10 / 18+. LOWENDTHEORYCLUB.COM. MARY ANNE HOBBS’ WILD ANGELS IS OUT NOW ON PLANET MU. VISIT MARY ANNE HOBBS AT BBC.CO.UK/RADIO1/MARYANNEHOBBS OR AT MYSPACE.COM/MARYANNEHOBBS.

Download: Rosie Flores “In The Middle Of A Heartache” (Wanda Jackson)

(from Hard-Headed Woman: A Celebration of Wanda Jackson available from Bloodshot)

We caught Rosie Flores playing an air show. With planes whizzing overhead, the guitarista has her two feet on the ground, strumming the strings in the inimitably passionate style that got a day dedicated to her in Austin. Everyday can’t be ‘Rosie Flores Day,’ but if you have a few thousand dollars to spare, she can put out Janis Martin’s last album! This interview by Daiana Feuer.

Are there planes flying right now?
It’s very interesting because when we’re performing we get to see these incredible air shows. Dive bombers. Formation flying. Aircraft that you wouldn’t normally see—from vintage to the latest modern thing. Right in front of us while we’re singing. It’s really not about the music here—we’re kind of second fiddle to the airplanes. That’s ok—we’re making good money and connecting with some new fans.
It beats jamming in a garage.
It is interesting scenery. And we’re getting to perform together a lot. Are you familiar with Patricia Vonne? We’re learning each other’s songs and singing in harmony together. We’ve got a new song on my album Girl Of The Century called ‘This Cat’s In The Doghouse.’ It seems to be the biggest hit out here at the airport in Osh Kosh. All the guys love it. I guess they can relate. I’ll be playing with the Honky Tonk Angels in Los Angeles, though. With Jenne Brown who also came out of L.A. at the same time I did. And another gal named Patty Booker. The three of us formed this band and we’ve got some really cool pickers playing with us. The crack L.A. band backing us. We’re playing guitars and mandolins and pianos and basses ourselves, with a three-part harmony. It’s a pretty magical trio, and I only play with them in California. We play one long set. In some places it will be like four long sets. At Pappy and Harriet’s, we’ll play four hours straight!
So you’re turning 59?
I am! It’s my last year I get to be in the ‘50s. Starting next year I can’ t play any more rockabilly music.
Will you start a go-go band?
Actually, I’ve kind of started doing that. I’ve been recording some really rocking stuff and gearing away from pure rockabilly. My new record on Bloodshot’s got some of that. I covered a Yardbirds song, and ‘This Cat’s In The Doghouse’ I told you about… We put a little rockabilly-country in there to keep it going but I want to stretch out and rock ‘n’ roll a little bit.
While your guitar solos always show your ability, you’re not super-indulgent. Are you going to rock out now?
I am tending to indulge myself a little more. Particularly lately. I don’t know if I’ve just become more confident. But I tend to keep hiring musicians that don’t play guitar so I can do all the guitar work now. It’s coming. The live show will show more of it.
You’ve been playing forever yet you’re not going cold.
I think I have the spirit of a teenager and that keeps me young. People can’t believe my age. People are all high-fiving me because for somebody who hasn’t had a face lift, I’m doing pretty good. I feel so young. I like growing older gracefully. As long as I can keep myself eating and drinking the right amount of stuff, I’m keeping my energy like a teenager. And the biggest thing I loved then was playing guitar and writing songs. That’s where it all started. I really feel like the same. In my head and my heart, I don’t feel any different than I did when I was 16, 17 and 18 years old. I’ve thought about it—that must be the reason. It’s also impossible for me to feel jaded. I don’t have that jaded gene in me. There’s been a couple of times when this career of mine has been difficult and I’ve struggled big-time financially. Even this year! Even if I feel like creating and on stage I feel like a teenager, when I’m at home trying to pay the bills, that’s when I feel like an adult. I try to reason with it—’Maybe it’s time for another kind of job.’ Before my father died he said, ‘If you don’t start making money from this, do something else.’ He was worried about me and he knew he wasn’t going to be there to hold me up. Sometimes his words ring in my head and I say, ‘Well, let’s see—I can sell my car?’ I try to figure out a way to do it and then I say, ‘Oh, maybe I should quit.’ And then all of a sudden something happens—a record comes out or I get this cool tour or all of a sudden I’m making money to pay my bills and everything’s normal again. Those are rough times and I still have them and I expect to still have them. It would be miraculous and wonderful if one of my new songs made a hit and there would be enough money coming in so I wouldn’t have to worry about paying food and doctor bills. Or perhaps I’ll meet a fantastic man who happens to be my soulmate—who happens to not be struggling for once! Every boyfriend I’ve ever had has been a struggling artist of some kind! I just need to meet some successful ones.
If you’re hanging at a rock show, you’re probably going to meet a beautiful soulful broke artist.
Yeah, hanging out with the bad boys. You know, I have always been attracted to younger men, but I lately I have found myself attracted to guys my age or age-appropriate at least. They all have a similar thing in common. They’re free-wheeling, high spirited and young at heart through some muse they have—whether it be hiking or piano or they fly airplanes. I just like being with passionate men that don’t have that jaded gene. Particularly ones that joke around and are smart and witty. Those keep me on my toes. They seem like younger men so I become attracted to them. I’ve been single my whole life, as far as I’ve never been married. Maybe that keeps me coming up with new songs and new guitar licks, and finding new ways to reinvent myself.
You must have a very solid sense of self.
It could be. I try to look at the osmosis of the whole thing. I think of myself as a survivor. I’ve watched a lot of my friends pass away through disease, drugs, accidents—but how come I’ve remained healthy? What have I done different? The one thing that has really kept me doing good—feeling healthy psychologically and physically—has really been the dear friends I’ve made. I feel so lucky that I’ve had those kind of guys around me. They’re the guys you call up and try to complain about something and they’re like, ‘No, no, you’re doing everything right.’ My bass player bought me groceries when I didn’t have enough to eat. ‘No, no, you’re not paying me back—you’ll get me back.’ Had I had a husband, maybe he would have been the one paying my bills and holding me up. But it’s more interesting—I don’t have to feel guilty that I haven’t been able to pull my weight with one person. I’ve had a lot of different people who I consider close friends who have been there for me emotionally and work-wise and all that. I’ve had to deal with some very bad deals with people in the music business. That’s been a tough road for me. The ones that were most challenging—those are the ones that made me fight harder. You can’t mess with me. I’ll show you! I really wasn’t always confident but I am now. I guess I started recording with the Screaming Sirens when I was 32. I started playing in bars when I was 21. That’s been a long road. I wasn’t always confident. I got my heart broken many times. But now I’m happy and confident as a single woman. As long as I can make enough money, there’s no reason not to play.
What has experience taught you?
My experience has taught me that for today I need not make the same mistakes. It showed me how to interact with people on a business level, on a friendship level and on a love level. I know what makes me happy. I didn’t know what it was that was going to make me happy before. Had I chosen the route to have children, I’m sure that would have made me happy. I would have needed to share my music with the children and worked them into the deal and put them on the record. I sort of feel like if I hadn’t lived this particular experience then I wouldn’t just be who I am today and that’s really all I know. I can look at other people’s lives and see what I could have been and how I could have turned out. But probably because I have a good spirit and I love people and laughing and entertainment, I would have probably been the host of the PTA.
Having worked with both Wanda Jackson and Janis Martin, can you just say out loud how cool that was?
Oh yeah! I’ve always loved rockabilly so much, but even back in the Warner Bros. days, they wouldn’t let me cut any of it. I was forced to just do country music. When I was on High Top, I finally had the chance to do what I wanted. I thought, ‘What a great thing to bring Wanda Jackson and Janis Martin out.’ They hadn’t recorded in 30 years. I called them up and they both said yes. Both of them to me were a dream come true. I could never get them together and sadly by the time Wanda called Janis and got her number, Janis had passed away. They never even got the chance to talk. Janis would always say, ‘I’d love to sit down with that girl and have a drink, you know, with nobody in the room but me and her.’ And I was like, ‘Oh yeah! I’ll make that happen.’ I actually produced Janis Martin’s last record. It hasn’t been released yet. I haven’t been able to find a label. I may end up putting it out myself—I’m just looking for funding. It’s an amazing record. I got her to do it four months before she knew she was sick. And she did a phenomenal job singing. I’ve gotten to work with such amazing artists in my life. I haven’t gotten to meet Keith Richards yet. That’s one guy I’d like to record with. And Jeff Beck is number one on guitar. And I’d like to sing a duet with Willie Nelson. Then you can kill me.

ROSIE FLORES WITH THE HONKY TONK ANGELS ON FRI., AUG. 28, AT THE REDWOOD BAR AND GRILL, 316 W. 2ND AVE., DOWNTOWN. 9PM / FREE / 21+. THEREDWOODBAR.COM. ROSIE FLORES’ GIRL OF THE CENTURY WILL RELEASE THIS FALL ON BLOODSHOT. VISIT ROSIE FLORES AT ROSIEFLORES.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/ROCKABILLYFILLYROSIE.

Download: Rainbow Arabia “Haunted Hall”

(from Kabukimono out now on Manimal)

Let’s visit Rainbow Arabia’s daydream. Drink from a coconut on a sandy Caribbean beach before diving into emerald waters. Emerge pruny from the swim and the shore has transformed into a tangle of mangroves in Central Africa. Manatees float along calm rivers while mona monkeys swing from tangled branches. Suddenly the lagoon dries up, replaced by wind-blown Middle Eastern desert. Rainbows drape the sky, but there’s not a drop of water to be felt. And in 25.4 minutes, Kabukimono ends.

On the follow-up release to last year’s The Basta EP, Rainbow Arabia goes way beyond—themselves, their influences, the music they’ve put to record so far. The band obviously respects the experimental, but their balance of post-punk with world music styles sets them apart from the rest of the Manimal roster and at its best elevates the duo above other L.A. bands doing something self-consciously “different.” Here it’s an exercise in escapism—a band seeking adventure in exotic landscapes. Danny and Tiffany Preston blend club beats and dance rhythms gleaned from America to Africa, sliding continents under each other like a gambler shuffling cards. Yet no matter where they go this time, an island atmosphere persists—as if the conversation keeps coming up: “What if we opened the dancehall door and let in the…?” (Cobras, hippos, pandas, dolphins, aliens…)

Tiffany Preston’s unspecified accent rolls in as cute as Betty Boop—if Betty Boop took more direction from A Certain Ratio or Joy Division, and pinched guitar notes from Television’s Richard Lloyd. Her guitar melodies rise and fall in simple waves, splashing against the rhythms from Danny’s keyboards. Last year, Danny used Casios imported from the Middle East to manipulate African styles and microtonal scales. This time around, he’s stamped his passport across the Caribbean. Beat-cuddling production work by Pit Er Pat’s Butchy Fuego (whose handiwork we know from Hecuba and These Are Powers albums) minimizes the miles between songs, and even Tiffany’s gentle gun-toting talk (“Harlem Sunrise”) suggests a possibility of escape. The collisions become a statement of purpose: music as weapon against confines or even silence.

On this journey through hot climates, Rainbow Arabia first takes us on “Holiday In Congo.” We don machetes and rifles, climb aboard our trusty elephants and trudge through wet heavy jungle. (The second verse goes, “All my days are left undid, all my days are numbered, all my days are yesterday and I say no no no”). The desert unfolds on “Haunted Hall,” sneaking into your ears along a Middle Eastern plateau. While you’re distracted watching a belly-dancing mirage, Rainbow Arabia deploys lessons learned from Sublime Frequencies and spooky dub embellishes. “Kabukimono” ventures even farther east—Tiffany is singing in English, I think, as a breakbeat sidles against her guitar and oncoming drumroll. As each song carries over the experience of the last one, the influences blur: here’s early Factory Records, there’s Congotronics and here’s Danny’s old band Future Pigeon, too.

Tiffany’s guitar chimes in whenever we lose our bearings, to help ground us—somewhere between here and who knows where? The Western dance beats often remain in the background, such as the emphatic bass line lingering in soft focus on “Harlem Sunrise,” while we’re more involved with a calypso drum at the forefront. “I Know I See I Love I Go” follows, which somehow throws all the ingredients together and shoots them into the middle of an intergalactic space battle during the last minute of the song: opening yelp to bongos and tambourine and burping bass and finally lasers firing into the song’s underpinnings, aimed carefully to snap tethers from a distance.

Tagged on the end of this mini-album are remixes of “Omar K” and “Let Them Dance” from The Basta. On “Omar K,” Ghosts on Tape applies the distorted bass thickly, running it around like a whale blowing bubbles. While playing Brenmar’s (aka Bill Salas from These Are Powers) sped-up “Let Them Dance” remix outside on my balcony, all the stray cats in the neighborhood gathered on a fence down below and stared at me, their ears twitching and tails flicking. Finally, six cats gathered to heed whatever command might have come next, but the record stopped. I’d been wanting to venture to outer limits, but something about Rainbow Arabia made them want in.

—Daiana Feuer