Jive Time Turntable

Marine Girls “Lazy Ways” (1983)

The Marine Girls feature a young Tracey Thorne (soon of Everything but The Girl) and they make skeletal indie pop gems. This is their second LP and it’s made up of fourteen brief ditties with three Velvet Underground chords, elasticated bass riffs, the odd bit of percussive woodblock tapping, lyrics of lost love and sunshine and the mournful vocals of Thorne and co vocalist Jane Fox, who sings in a cheery breezy manner. They’re a wonderful contrast in vocal timbre and the twin vocals for ‘Falling Again’ are a delight. I’m a sucker for this femme twee pop fluff when it’s done right (which is rare). The Marine Girls are somewhere between The Young Marble Giants and Camera Obscura (*drool*). Every moment of this album is perfect for lounging about in the garden under the June sunshine with its melodic basslines crawling up your spine, or as Fox sings, “playing the perfect summer melody”. —Badlittlekitten

Kaleidoscope “Tangerine Dream” (1967)

Kaleidoscope’s Tangerine Dream is just about the most perfect example of fairy tale psychedelia. A technicolor gem produced at the exact moment British psychedelia went for a full on overkill of whimsy. Silly tweeness abounds, in fact the childlike lyricism is exclusively of the strawberry monkeys / candy forests variety. It’s up to you to decide if that’s a realm you’d be interested in visiting. If you are, you’ll stumble upon one of the prettiest records of the 60’s, one filled with exceedingly well written pop songs and some mildly medieval-esque balladry. It’s been quite some time since I’ve found such a scrumptious album, such delicious, cuddly cuteness.

Kaleidoscope themselves (not to be confused with the American Kaleidoscope) were quite the talented band, with their flair for composition and execution making the songs positively sparkle. Peter Daltrey’s sweet voice, Eddie Pumer’s exquisite guitars and the many little details sprayed across all shine. The band’s first single, “Flight From Ashiya” is the skyscraping tale of a doomed flight where “Captain Simpson seems to be in a daze, one minute high and the next minute low, nobody knows where we are”; “Sky Children” and its dragons, candy forests or porcupine captains add another candy coated layer to the cake, “In the Room of Percussion” recalls a Byrds’ rumination, albeit with the unByrdslike line of “My God, the spiders are everywhere”. “The Murder of Lewis Tollani” brings darker subject matter afloat and a trippy post chorus bit, “Please Excuse My Face” is both minimal and adorable. Plus the opener “Kaleidoscope”, with its precious harmonies and playful keys could be British psych’s theme song. Truly a treat.  —Johnny

“L” is a collection of perfectly crafted pop songs, with the rare quality of combining complex structures and progressions with familiarity and tunefulness. But saying “L” is some sort of easy-going pop album, reassuring, limpid and immediate would definitely be a mistification. Godley & Creme are the masters of cleverness and displacement, and there’s no song in “L” which does not evoke an impregnable sense of disorientation. The sophisticate nightclub/jazzy music structures are enshrouded of a detached and artefact allure, and some obscure deconstructionist element always crawls in the background making the songs subtly disturbing.

The style calls for mixed comparisons: from Queen at their most retro-sounding mellowness peak, to The Residents’s cynicism or Frank Zappa’s multi-instrumental intrications and Eno/Bowie/Fripp decadent atmosphere and sound. But I must admit none of these comparisons is actually able to describe the uniqueness of such a composite style, which despite all manages to keep light, cohesive and personal and – most of all – to produce memorable, ever-surprising songs. —Marco

Groove is in the Art Posters and Prints

This design, inspired by the graphics in our gallery Groove is in the Art, was originally created for our Tenth Anniversary. We’ve since removed our logo and made this popular design available in multiple colors, finishes and sizes in our Red Bubble store!

Red Bubble offers high-quality digital prints and posters; purchase them individually or pre-matted, mounted, laminated, framed, or even stretched on canvas! Visit the store›

Kate Bush “The Dreaming” (1982)

Here Kate Bush graduates from quirky teenage musical prodigy to full-fledged artiste. I think it speaks volumes about this strange and wonderful album that the lead-off single was the wonderfully un-commercial “Sat in Your Lap,” a heady stew of thundering Burundi drums, horn punctuations, and Kate wailing away like a madwoman on the nature of knowledge. EMI Records execs probably wet their pants when they heard it! In fact, I’m surprised this album got a major-label release at all, at least in this form!

Even the more “normal” songs on this release (“There Goes a Tenner,” the jaunty “Suspended in Gaffa,” the Celtic folk-lilting of “Night of the Swallow”) have a certain something that renders them deeply “odd.” Or perhaps its just the proximity of the other songs that’s colouring my perception: witness “Leave It Open” with its Chipmunk backing vocals or “Get Out of My House” with its angry ranting and donkey braying. This is almost Kate’s version of John Lennon / Plastic Ono Band, her own personal primal-scream therapy swathed in digital electronics as a sort of purging of her early precocious piano-maiden persona. This is the next step beyond Nina Hagen’s West German albums, and is one of the most eye-popping musical statements [of all-time]. A vital release. —Progbear

Tortoise “Standards” (2001)

On their fourth album, Chicago post-rock godheads Tortoise continue to drift away from the stark musical academia of their mid-90s work and into brighter, (dare I say?) groovier territory. You can’t quite dance to Standards, but you can certainly get a lot closer than with any of Tortoise’s previous works, thanks to the newfound focus on upbeat rhythms, cool basslines and immediate percussion. If TNT was Tortoise’s jazz album, then this would have to be their funk album, if such a thing is even possible. Between those two albums they’ve evolved down a very smart path, though, as attempting to recapture the minimalist beauty of their first two albums would’ve been awfully difficult. By developing in this manner, Tortoise retain all the fascinating intricacies that have made their previous albums a joy to deconstruct, while revitalizing their sound and pushing them into accessible, effortlessly listenable territory more so than ever before. —Tommo

Gilberto Gil & Jorge Ben “Ogum Xangô” (1975)

This has got to be one of the most engaging and enjoyable displays of totally unrestrained musicianship I’ve ever heard. Jorge and Gil’s chemistry is seamless, yet their vocal and instrumental skills remain distinct and identifiable. The album is a terrific, relaxed affair, and the songs have a continuously rolling, improvvy feel about them, driven by bouncy, rhythmic guitar lines that eventually loop into hypnotic grooves and some extremely dynamic dual vocals, all of which remains surprisingly tight throughout. Jorge might take the lead on one song, Gil playfully trailing his vocals and throwing in some little guitar-tricks for embellishment, only to have the baton passed across, the two switching roles in a manner that’s quite selfless and democratic. The decision to record Gil primarily in one channel and Jorge in the other (perhaps just on the remaster?) was a stroke of genius, as it provides a slight buffer between the two which allows each of their contributions to be heard without any obfuscation, not to mention that it makes listening to Ogum Xangô on headphones feel a lot like you’re sitting in the middle of one of the most productive jam sessions of all time. The talent on display here is simply incredible. —Tommo

Magic Carpet “Magic Carpet” (1972)

Mindblowing UK raga-psych that has all the right moves: Warm, stoned and fuzzy guitars, gentle tabla, soft acoustic passages, blissed-out sitar lines and simply wonderful female vocals. I cannot overstate how full-on psych this record is. From the opening lines of “The Phoenix” to the fade out of the final ‘trance’ raga, this one is a synapse burner. Totally far out, and gorgeous, too. Track it down if you are even remotely interested in Eastern folkpsych, you’ll be thrilled with it. —Chad

Fugazi “Fugazi” (1988)

Including members of DC-hardcore originators Minor Threat and Rites of Spring, Fugazi achieve an inspired blend of punk fury, hard rock riffs, and deft instrumental interplay coupled to righteous lyrical content on this, their seven song debut EP. The songs’ big, chant-along choruses (see fan favorite “Waiting Room”) are infectious, the bobbing rhythms of bassist Joe Lally and drummer Brendan Canty pointed and propulsive, while providing a fluid center around which guitarist Ian MacKaye unleashes razor sharp scrapes and howls from his SG. On this release, MacKaye swaps vocals with Guy Picciotto (not yet playing guitar), giving the band two distinctly different yet equally passionate frontmen. Favorites here include the aforementioned “Waiting Room,” reggae inspired “Suggestion,” and driving “Bulldog Front.” —Ben

Aztec Camera “High Land, Hard Rain” (1983)

Along with the Finn Brothers from Australia and his Southerly neighbors Morissey and Marr, scottsman Roddy Frame was one of the lodestars of the 80s generation of British Empire popsmiths. sadly, in my mind, his Aztec Camera has never achieved the recognition and praise that propelled Crowded House and the Smiths to the pop stratosphere. In temperament, Frame is much closer to the Brothers Finn than Morissey/Marr–in fact, his boyish wonder, only occasionally leavened by nostalgia or regret, makes for a sort of anti-Morissey. If the Smiths provide sweet melodies only to make the medicine go down, Aztec Camera, like Crowded House, is almost pure saccharine. while it may not be as nourishing or effective as the real meds, it never fails to leave you with a smile on your face and an acute longing for more.

Although “High Land, Hard Rain” doesn’t feature my favourite Frame tune (“Birth of the True”, off of “Knife”, the generally-inferior sophomore effort), it is easily the most consistent and exuberant Aztec Camera release. “Oblivious”, “Pillar to Post” and “Down the Dip” are all terribly addictive pop anthems, while “Release”, “The Boy Wonders” and several other tracks admirably incorporate jazz guitar parts to support the power chords. All in all, this could almost serve as an optimist’s riposte to ‘The Queen is Dead’ (though several years in advance). Sadly, Frame and the Aztecs would never sound this fresh again. —Jeremy

Pretty Things “Parachute” (1970)

While Parachute is less innovative than its predecessor, SF. Sorrow, it shows the Pretty Things at their most mature, lyrically and musically. It begins with a medley that stretches through the majority of side one, one that vaguely resembles the one on The Beatles’ Abbey Road. While it doesn’t reach the cathartic heights of that medley’s finale, it’s melodically stronger than it’s counterpart.

The noisy Scene One is a discomforting opener, with wild drumming that establishes a manic atmosphere. But then it goes away, and you get the peaceful beauty of The Good Mr. Square, which immediately makes it clear that the Pretty Things have improved melodically since their last album, and almost all of these songs boast strong melodies and breathtaking harmonies. Even better yet, they spin that melody into a lovely gospel song in She Was Tall, She Was High, and it’s interesting to see how, in the space of a minute in a half, the song builds up and falls with its soaring chorus Then we get the gorgeous in the Square, with a melody so great, that Radiohead decided to rip it off for Paranoid Android. The song also starts introduce the dichotomy of the city and the country that’s such a prominent theme in this album. Then we get a terrific rocker in the form of Miss Fay Regrets, with it’s fantastic riff, and almost schizophrenic lyrics, and Grass, one of the album’s highlights, with its brooding piano line, and it’s lovely rising melody. The song sounds like a less self-indulgent Pink Floyd with similar production values, only, not only does it predate that classic sound, it actually exceeds it, achieving it’s lovely atmosphere without the use of any of the sound effects Pink Floyd cherished.

As the album hurtles towards its end, we get She’s a Lover, another fantastic rocker, with its Phil May’s lovely falsetto chorus and surprising middle 8 After that, we get What’s the Use, which stuffs three different songs into less than two minutes. It’s a little confusing, and I sorta wish the three parts could’ve been developed more, because they’re all strong, but that’s all made up for with the title track, which is gorgeous beyond words, and features some of the best harmonies this side of the Beach Boys. And that build up, when the drums and piano join the guitar, has to be the most cathartic moment on a Pretty Things record. The best part, is that rising synthesizer near the end, it just keeps soaring up and up and is almost overwhelming, and then the song stops. It’s a great and daring ending for an album, and is just another display of the bands great mastery of atmosphere. This is a fantastic album! —Foxtrot

Jerry Harrison “The Red and the Black” (1981)

This album provides irrefutable proof of Jerry Harrison’s contribution to arguably Talking Heads finest moment; ‘Remain in Light’ …1980-81 was a creatively productive time for ‘Head’s front-man David Byrne and his partner-in-experimentation, producer Brian Eno – the pair famously teamed up to make ground-breaking album ‘My Life in the Bush of Ghosts’ in 1980 (it wasn’t released until 1981 however) before enlisting the rest of the ‘Heads to enact their Afro-funk blueprint for the release of ‘Remain in Light’ later that year. As 1981 rolled around, Byrne went off to record his first solo effort, ‘the Catherine Wheel’, which mined similar ground covered on ‘My Life in the Bush of Ghosts’ and ‘Remain In Light’ with excellent results – both Eno and Harrison were recruited for assistance on some tracks for Byrne’s album.

The busy arrangements and psychedelic flourishes on Jerry Harrison’s first solo effort show that he was in-synch with this progressive-funk vibe, and spotlight the talents of the most overlooked member of the celebrated New York quartet. Jerry Harrison’s effort tends to adopt a more melodic sensibility than any of the other three Talking Heads-related releases from that ’80-’81 period mentioned earlier – the backing singers are given free reign and the results echo and equal the layered-vocal cleverness present on ‘Remain in Light’ – also, Harrison’s own keyboard talents are more obvious here than his often-subtle contributions with Talking Heads; ‘the New Adventure’ revolves around Harrison’s sinewy, convoluted synthesizer melody, ‘Worlds in Collision’ is soaked in dramatic, shimmering keyboard washes before breaking into a highly-funky clav riff which somehow manages to sound both progressive and retro. ‘the Red Nights’ is more ambient than anything Talking Heads ever attempted, a lush instrumental soundscape where Harrison’s own playing and melodic-leanings are once again brought to the fore.

Overall this is easily the most interesting of Jerry Harrison’s 3 albums. By virtue of it’s release date and his association with Talking Heads, it’s hard to avoid comparing the results of ‘The Red and the Black’ with those of ‘Remain in Light’, ‘My Life in the Bush of Ghosts’ or ‘the Catherine Wheel’. And whilst it never quite attains the transcendent power that those albums achieved, there are moments on ‘the Red and the Black’ every bit as compelling as anything on the aforementioned trinity. —Denny