Low is one of those bands from the 1990s that continue to be–and pretty much always were–absolutely timeless. They self-indentify as “slowcore”, making music that is austere, subdued, and hypnotic. They play with Bachelorette, a.k.a. Annabel Alpers, whose mix of 60s psyche and girl group pop sounds like a computer took a bunch of ecstasy, chased it with some mushrooms, and then fell in love with a MIDI keyboard. You can buy tickets here or if you want to win tickets, just email rsvp@larecord.com with subject LOW and a video of the best Jamaican-style limbo contest you can find . The lowest limbo wins!

LOW

This song is off their 2011 release Cmon, out now on Sub Pop.

BACHELORETTE

This video is creepy in its awesome psychedelia. The song is awesome too. Win/win!

LOW AND BACHELORETTE ON TUE., SEPT. 20, AT THE EL REY THEATER, 5515 WILSHIRE BLVD., LOS ANGELES. 8 PM / $22 / ALL AGES. VISIT LOW AT SUBPOP.COM

Download Shabazz Palaces “An echo from the hosts that profess infinitum”

(from Black Up out now on Subpop)

Ishmael Butler has traveled a long road. He started out in the early 90s as Butterfly of Grammy-winning, jazzy, smooth-rapping trio Digable Planets (remember who taught you how to be “Cool Like Dat?”), and then, after a seven-year hiatus, he returned as the singer of velvety electro-funk band Cherrywine. Six years later, he dropped twin EPs with Afro-Arabian imagery, Shabazz Palaces and Of Light, as the mysterious and press-evasive Palaceer Lazaro of Shabazz Palaces. Black Up is Butler’s debut LP as “Shabazz”—the first hip hop record ever for Seattle indie powerhouse Sub Pop—and here we find Ish at the top of his game. His vocals, lyrics, and cadence are as smooth as ever, but we’ve also got stellar production and spaced out beats propelling existential musings on freedom, identity, motivation, and desire. He dares the listener to unpack its density, starting with the challenge of deconstructing extremely long and fairly abstruse song titles that are stories in and of themselves, narratives that exist beyond the tracks. Slow-burning paranoia seeps in with “An echo from the hosts that profess infinitum,” while “A treatease dedicated to The Avian Airess from North East Nubis (1000 questions, 1 answer)” brings out his romantic side. Soulful female vocals—Shabazz protégées TheeSatisfaction guest—kick in with “Recollections of the wraith,” where Ish gets as close as possible to laying out a Shabazz manifesto: “Clear some space out, so we can space out.” Though Tyler the Creator’s Goblin was the most hyped, Black Up is the most masterful hip hop record of 2011 by far.

—Lainna Fader

Download: Shabazz Palaces “an echo from the hosts that profess infinitum”

(from Black Up out June 28 on Sub Pop)

Ishmael Butler is known by many names, most of which we aren’t meant to ever discover. In another lifetime, he was Butterfly of Digable Planets. Now, he stands at the center of the universe of the mysterious Shabazz Palaces, holding court as Palaceer Lazaro in the first hip-hop group ever signed to Sub Pop. He speaks here about divine inspiration, being in love, and keeping perspective. This interview by Lainna Fader.

Why do you make music?
Palaceer Lazaro: I don’t know. I hope to never know. I think that it’s something that—I’m compelled to do it by things that are deep inside of me. They’re just my instincts. They’re the unrecognizable—or undefinable parts of myself that compel me to make it. I don’t have any reason—the reason is that it happens.
You said you felt compelled to write, that it was instinctual—when did you first recognize those instincts?
I was always predisposed to follow them without recognizing them but there was something that I read about originality, being linked to instinct, and that’s when I started to try to draw the line.
What do you mean by ‘originality’?
Going from your instinct to the final piece without any alteration.
You said that the title ‘Of Light’ was a divine inspiration, and that it came from light. You said you see it in your mind and it looks like everything and nothing. What happened the last time you were divinely inspired?
My kids were around, and I was downstairs doing something, and they were upstairs. They live in different places, and they hadn’t seen each other in a long time. We were all together and they were upstairs and I could hear them—their voices—and I could hear in their voices a love, a familiarity that went way beyond the time they had spent together. It came from a place years-years-years and spaces ago, and when I heard it, I felt it. But I saw my grandmother yesterday too, and it was in her face, in her eyes, too. And in her sounds. But these things are—they are for me to see them. They’re always around. Sometimes you get caught up in the responsibilities of life. Or wanting to watch the game. Just wanting to talk to somebody or missing somebody. Not paying attention to the profound things that are right in front of us. Sometimes you do though—sometimes you are keen and sensitive to it.
How do you remind yourself to not get caught up in the responsibilities of life?
Practice. Drills. You know, repetition. Landmarks—mental ones.
What kind of landmarks?
That’s a personal thing. I don’t wanna talk about that. But that’s how I do it.
How does art connect us to something bigger than ourselves?
When you’re attracted to something it’s seductive, and when you’re being seduced, you’re most aware of yourself. You’re also out of control. It’s like—a lot of discovery and realization and excitement and I think it’s one of the funner things that happen to us.
What’s the relationship between creative input and reaching the divine?
I think that creativity is divine. I mean, cuz good ideas—you can’t really trace them back to any place or thing. For me, it comes from some place, some divinity of some sort.
How is creativity a way for us to help each other?
Yeah—that’s how it even starts. People are looking inside of themselves for something to affect what’s going on inside of themselves or inside of the people around them. It could be a small thing. You could be walking by a newsstand and see a photo and there’s a color in the photo that can make you change how you view life and then yourself and then you can make different moves.
In Shabazz Palaces, you’re Palaceer Lazaro. What purpose do these new personas serve? What is the power in adopting a character?
I have more secret names than known names. The known names—they always come about serendipitously and it’s cool. I know the story behind it, but I don’t think it’s important. Plus I think it’s more fun to not know the story behind things.
What happens when you disconnect someone from their story? What potential is revealed in that space?
I don’t believe that when you tell the backstory that you find out much because it’s a poor representation of what actually goes into something. I don’t know. I think the story is in the product. And it’s infinitely explorable by the people that are looking and listening to it and it’s better to go in that direction. Some people are good at being able to chronicle that, but I’m not one of them. Not many people are good at that—that’s a whole ‘nother talent.
On the new album, at the end of ‘An echo from the hosts that profess infinitum,’ there’s the cautionary lyric “Certain things need not be asked.” Why do you think people are so interested in knowing your backstory? Why don’t we need to know it?
I don’t think they do—there’s just a lot of places that rely on content and in those places, the content they rely on is not very broad or imaginative and just want the content to fill up whatever they need to fill up. At the end—and at the beginning—of the day, they’re not really interested in it. Maybe for an anecdote over drinks or to wax over knowing some things. It’s just superficial—surface things. Some do, some are interested, but I think once you analyze their interest, you’re like “Nah, that don’t even matter.” [laughs] You know what I’m saying? Your imagination is a much more fertile and vast and dazzling space than having shit narrowed down for you by a megalomaniac. I just think it’s a characteristic of our times that people engage in things as a ritual—a formality—but I don’t know if it’s really substantial or if it lasts. It’s just stuff we do in the moment. And then, it just doesn’t seem to have much depth.
As an artist, how does this affect the way you think about communicating with people through your own music?
Creating shit is still an adventure, kind of a gamble, and you still believe in a lot of good things and potential in order to even be able to feel like doing something today, putting it out, so it’s hope. And fun. And adventure. And wonder. You know? It’s like going out on an adventure—you never know what you’re going to find. It doesn’t predetermine anything in terms of creating music. I definitely don’t study it while I’m doing it. I don’t think about it that much but I’m sure it’s in me—in different kind of ways. It’s hard to say.
You’ve said you’re not interested in looking into the past but what about the future? Octavia Butler said ‘the very act of looking ahead to discern possibilities and offer warnings is an act of hope.’
It’s interesting because she was up here. She lived up here, and died up here. I’ve read every word she’s ever written—but I’ve never read any quotes of hers or anything. But that’s what I’m saying—about trying to pinpoint backstories. Her influence on me is profound—I could never put it into words—but that correlation that you just drew just does it.
In “Swerve… The reeping of all that is worthwhile (Noir not withstanding)” the lyrics are “Black is me, black is us, black is free.” How is black free? How can anyone be free?
Some of it is a call to act, as much as it is a declaration. Some of it is something to try to do—to try to figure out, to try to pursue. I do think that people can be free.
What does being free mean to you? What kind of freedom do you hope for the most?
I don’t know if I understand freedom. I just kind of know what the word is supposed to mean, and that’s kind of my point. I don’t know if I believe in the word as an absolute. I haven’t figured out what it’s supposed to mean, but I do know what it means to the world and I used that to shape the way I use it in the music. But freedom? It’s all relative. I think it means having the confidence to pursue your instincts at any quote unquote cost. There’s so much power in belief. And when you do believe, then you can be what you believe and there isn’t any doubt about it. Other people can look at it and think you’re a fuckin’ nut! But you feel it and it is so. There are so many roots to freedom. Even if you just look at physical slaves—emancipation comes in all kinda ways. It’s like—it’s a mixture of things both in the realm that we live in and in realms that we don’t dwell in that get together to emancipate and free somebody. I don’t really know, and you never know how it’s gonna happen, or if it even will. The important thing is that you can kinda help yourself to it. But some people try to help themselves to it but they still get blocked—they still remain confined by things. You never know how things are gonna happen but you can have a courage and a strength and a bravery about life that puts you in the position when these things do fall into line—you can capitalize on the exits and escape routes and fight your way to a little bit more light.
What is the light, and how is it different from the dark?
In the light, things are obvious. Things are very clear. In the dark, it’s just a little less manageable. The same things are there—but you can’t see them so clearly or feel them or express them so clearly.
What do you see for your own future and the world at large?
That’s a big question! I don’t—I don’t see into the future. I do, you know, but I can’t talk about that cuz I won’t be doing any justice to the things that I see. Plus, it’s hard to put into words, the feelings. I don’t know, man! [laughs] What do you see for the world? I’d like to hear you answer that! Do you know any people who are dead, and they’re kinda too young to be dead? Well, if you think about what they would feel about living right now, then you’ll have another perspective on things. If you can’t understand what the gift of it is, then maybe you don’t deserve it. And I want it. And I want to be able to recognize the gift of life. So I just do! So when it feels like shit’s fucked up and not going the way I want it to go, then I recognize that as a ludicrous approach and just get out as quick as possible and move on to some work—making something, helping somebody, looking at somebody elses’ work—things that affirm life. The easiest shit to find—and they’re everywhere. And plus, you never know what tomorrow’s gonna bring. You just gotta work on things you can do, today. Cuz when you do … it’s result oriented—always. Something’s gonna happen when you make a move. That’s the way things work. I think everythings alright. The world is definitely nuts, you know what I mean? There’s a lot of bad in it cuz we set the tables for ourselves so that shit that’s gonna happen as a result of what we been doing is not gonna be cool but at the same time I think a lot of cool things are gonna happen too. And when things are just happening and they’re inevitable and they’re real you kinda have to look at them and accept them for what they are instead of just dwelling on how bad they are or why. Because tomorrow is the only thing that you can really impact.
If you didn’t have love, would you be so willing to trust the universe?
Yeah. If you’ve ever had it, then you know. You know the possibility that you could again. Love is—it makes things feel a lot brighter, no matter what. It’s hard still, but advice from someone that’s other than you: the thing is, you just have to believe. And beliving in things takes practice and a lot of explaining to yourself. Spending time with yourself and figuring out that it’s not about dwelling on what you don’t have, or what isn’t there. Cuz a lot of times when you do that, you set up barriers to ever having it again anyway. You know what I’m saying? You just gotta have courage. Bravery about believing in life. It sounds cliché, but when you really get to the bare bones of the real meanings of those things, it’s pretty bright.

SHABAZZ PALACES WITH THURZDAY ON THURS., JUNE 9, AT THE TROUBADOUR, 9081 SANTA MONICA BLVD., WEST HOLLYWOOD. 8 PM / $12-$14 / ALL AGES. TROUBADOUR.COM. SHABAZZ PALACES’ BLACK UP RELEASES JUNE 28 ON SUB POP. VISIT SHABAZZ PALACES AT SHABAZZPALACES.COM.

Seattle’s experimental hip-hop collective Shabazz Palaces is coming to town and playing this Thursday at the Troubadour and we wanna see you there! The fine folks at Sub Pop have offered us two pairs of tickets to give away to L.A. RECORD readers so send us an email at rsvp@larecord.com and tell us what bug Palaceer Lazaro was in a previous lifetime!

Avi Buffalo “What’s In It For”
(From the self-titled LP out now on Sub Pop)

Avi Buffalo gets hated on by a lot of L.A. bands. I couldn’t believe the catty whispers from the musicians around me when I saw these kids—who really are just kids, fresh out of high school— play the KXLU/Smell showcase in Austin. Part of it was jealousy at the raw skill on display—in a pretty Surfer Rosa, almost-Joe-Satriani kind of way, band leader Avigdor Zahner Isenberg shreds the fuck out of his guitar. But I think what freaks people out most is that at Avi Buffalo’s emotional core, there’s a frustration that’s remarkably pitiful and world-weary. For some people, it must feel like a put-on—how dare four little kids play dress-up! But the blues is about feeling good, and each song on Avi Buffalo is like a Lucian Freud painting or a Raymond Carver short story. These are portraits of misunderstood, unloved, ugly things yawping into the void about their lusts and losses. And they are beautiful. You feel affection for these first-person characters, and maybe even a little mirth at their self-pity. Hell, on those rare occasions when Mr. Zahner-Isenberg allows himself to write like an actual teenager—such as on the literally sophomoric “Summer Cum”—there’s a downright J Mascis laziness to his vocals that matches the characters’ inability to clear up their confusions. The girl protagonist of “Summer Cum” makes dessert out of a pre-made pie crust, and the male narrator can taste a “robot’s fist.” The yawp drawls into a laid-back final “yep!” So what if, say, Flaming Lips mastered some of these sounds a decade ago? Avi Buffalo has the same guitar/bass/Nord/drum line-up we’ve heard for years, but have we ever really heard a song like “Where’s Your Dirty Mind” in which a frail boy and frail girl recite verses over a plinking piano and dixie-doodle Southern-fried guitar, using pervy middle-school urges as an ineffective shield against mortality? And that’s only the last in Avi Buffalo’s string of familiar yet highly original hard-luck songs about broken, bad-mannered losers. Like J Mascis, Zahner-Isenberg’s reedy voice contrasts sharply with the virtuosity of his band’s instruments. With Avi Buffalo, the brightness of intricately plucked guitars and occasional keys sweeps the darkness hither and yon—never dissipating it, but never letting it overwhelming you. (Only 60-Watt Kid has channeled this kind of sunny, wave-lapping beauty in recent times.) In fact, the only bad feeling I get after listening to Avi Buffalo is that it makes me want to go back in time to slap the shit out of myself at age 19 for not also being able to squeeze poignancy out of phrases like “summer cum” or craft Arthur Lee-ish song titles like “What’s In It For?” Technically, this band is a solo-project and the other members brought in later, but my favorite part of the album is when keyboardist/vocalist Rebecca Coleman takes the reins in “One Last”—a fantastic call-and-response ditty, almost like a Lee Hazlewood/Nancy Sinatra song, but replace Lee with Neil Young and Nancy Sinatra with a good vocalist. Zahner-Isenberg is great, but Coleman’s voice is emotive in a bolder, almost-country way. I wish she got mixed louder on some of the other songs. Or maybe it was a genius choice to haul her out as a secret weapon—a Bizarro-world Dee Dee Ramone who actually bests her lead singer. Taste is the hallmark of this record, even more so than in the band’s live set. At one point, Mr. Zahner-Isenberg reminds us that “no one could make you lose your faith, except for someone who you love.” Somehow, Avi Buffalo takes a sound I thought I had no love for and makes it rekindle my faith in guitar rock. Not since the Smiths has a band taken recent tradition to such new heights, and I suspect this won’t be Avi Buffalo’s last great album.

—Dan Collins

The tracklist:
1. Life Prowler
2. Glitter
3. Fever Dreaming
4. Depletion
5. Common Heat
6. Skinned
7. Katerpillar
8. Valley Hump Crash
9. Sorts
10. Dusted
11. Positive Amputation
12. Shred and Trascend
13. Chem Trails

Here are the best words extracted from the press release:

Los Angeles

Spunt and Randy

glowing talismans

clubhouse

art-life/music-life

fertilized a purple patch

enthusiastic notice

“Best Recording Packaging”

sweaty

abroad.

evolution.

lives

welded

ruptures and triumphs;

banged and bruised, yet better off

weird-out

Melody

howling

grazes,

skree

all vital

of

—Daiana Feuer

Bummer city: After two televison seasons and two albums of quirky musical comedy, the Flight of the Conchords guys are calling it quits. “We won’t be returning for a 3rd season,” wrote the duo on their official site. “While the characters Bret and Jemaine will no longer be around, the real Bret and Jemaine will continue to exist.” [Read More]

(off Teen Dream out Jan 26th on Sub Pop)

Roundtable Discussion: The Role Of The Record Label

Via: NPR

At the beginning of this decade, record labels were still a way of indexing artists; of positioning them within a community, a scene and a movement. Throughout our end-of-the-decade coverage, one reccurring theme is whether context still matters. After all, one of the most glorious (if not overwhelming) changes to take place in the last 10 years is how much music is available to us, and from everywhere.

So, while the notion of community has been broadened and redefined — we may no longer see record labels as megaphones for towns and the bands therein — perhaps we still need someone to help curate and make sense of the music out there. Personally, I still turn to certain labels as a means of filtration.

And, while plenty of musicians have acrimonious relationships with their labels, just as many do not. Musicians still choose to work with specific labels because they are aware of their history and want to be part of a tangible community of people and supporters. [Read More + Listen]

Download: Avi Buffalo “Raccoon” (Demo)

For more information on how to win free tickets to see Avi Buffalo on November 5th at The Echo please follow twitter.com/freelarecord for details!!

More: AVI BUFFALO