What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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2016 | Progressive Pop | Listen
CHIC MARTINI PARTIES ON PORTUGAL'S CAPRICCIO COAST
Where does one even begin with Bruno Pernadas' utterly surreal Those Who Throw Objects at the Crocodiles Will Be Asked to Retrieve Them? For even within its 53 minutes the genre-expanding epic feels limitless, like the great migration captured within the context of a Disney fairytale. A treasure trove of extolled genres call Those Who Throw Objects home - be it Space Age Pop, Progressive Pop, Neo-Psychedelia, Lounge, or Exotica - all intwined with such respect, devotion, and idolatry that calling Pernadas' passion project anything less than a classic would be downright offensive. The overarching ambition, captured best on the sprawling, 13-minute 'Ya Ya Breathe,' is only as good as the fine details chiseled into each crevice of Those Who Throw Objects' being. One extra listen will net you a plethora of new sounds to discover, quirks that offset the balance, or even nestled vocal samples electrifying the background. Whether as a secondary listen, where the pleasure principles are shot directly into the vein, or a primary one that unearths the sheer technicalities undertook in order to achieve this, Pernadas' masterpiece will never not satisfy.
So what precisely wins my heart over, apart from Those Who Throw Objects' cumulative being? Let's see, how about the percussion for starters. Nowhere is that seen better than on 'Problem Number 6,' a rigorous exposé in alternative Exotica grooves that undulate, escalate, and vibrate deep within the ear canals. The acoustic riffs atop it, along with the fluttering chimes of Francisca Cortesão, provide such a captivating aura of tropical busywork, a paradox the music world needs. Above the drums lie the harmonious pairing of Pernadas and Cortesão, representing Those Who Throw Objects' second greatest aspect. Here we venture to 'Valley In The Ocean' and its sweetened embrace of Tropicália and Do-Wop, a slow-moving dirge in utter relaxation. 'Anywhere In Spacetime' combines both while adding foreign, eastern influence because why not. There's times here where the Katamari Damacy is invoked, likely unintentionally.
Despite the first half's remarkable streak, nothing can prepare you for 'Yo Yo Breathe.' With no reservation I can safely declare its status as one of this decade's best songs. Period. Maybe upon the first minute that isn't exactly evident, but that's where the beauty of 'Yo Yo Breathe' - and Those Who Throw Objects by extension - lies; Its ability to metamorphosize deliberately and flawlessly. Over the 13 minutes, Bruno Pernadas sets sail on the seas of the Atlantic only to crash-land on a fantasy island not unlike that depicted in Maurice Sendak's Where The Wild Things Are. Tasteful autotune, psychedelic guitars, sliced vocal cuts, tribal drums, and entranced Spoken Word passages that would make David Byrne proud amount to just a fraction of 'Yo Yo Breathe's' magnificence. It seriously might be the coolest song I've ever heard. A must, must listen. The melodious, nighttime cool down of 'Lachrymose' ends the album on an ataractic note, allowing one to seep fully into the realization that an album like Those Who Throw Objects at the Crocodiles Will Be Asked to Retrieve Them truly exists.
A
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2003 | Experimental | Listen
SHACKLED IN THE BASEMENT OF AN ABUSIVE TORMENTER
Oof. After the decent Sings Reign Rebuilder that positioned Set Fire To Flames as a mediator between Godspeed You! Black Emperor's stirring Post-Rock and the land of desolation, the Montreal offshoot found it necessary to distinguish themselves even further. The result, Telegraphs In Negative, possibly the most pretentious piece of musical art I've experienced. For a torturous 88 minutes, Set Fire To Flames discredits their previous success and talent, stripping all convention for a Field Recording-driven Experimental project that constantly toys with the idea of vindicating release, only to retreat into silence time and time again.
Granted, in doing so they've mustered an atmosphere so grim and austere that one could argue its achievements, despite the enunciated lack of replay value. It's a world you never want to visit again, partly because of the bleak nature, largely because of its unquantifiable tedium. Nothing happens, at least with any artistic merit or purpose. The elongated vocal samples ('Holy Throat Hiss Tracts,' 'Mouths Trapped In Static') have zero payoff for the context is both nonexistent and nonessential to the surrounding aura. It's all so empty and hopeless, by design, stringing together lengthy Free Improvised passages ('In Prelight Isolate,' 'Sleep Maps') that drift like the wind undeterred by visuals in its vicinity. It's ironic considering Experimental music is supposed to challenge listeners, but all Set Fire To Flames achieves is desertion and insouciance, drudging like musicians tuning their instruments for no rhyme or reason. A piece of art devoid of stimulation and one that, had that been Telegraphs In Negative's goal, utterly succeeded in crafting something totally meaningless.
F+
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1983 | Punk Blues | Listen
EXPRESS TRAIN TO HELL DIVERTED TO THE GATES OF HEAVEN
It's taken quite a while but I've finally finished The Birthday Party's curtailed discography in preparation for Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. An arduous experience on account of the exhaustive and degrading Post-Punk Cave and company conjured, suffice to say I'm glad it's over. Thankfully, the final two EP's - perhaps because of their manageable duration - weren't hampered by such debilities. While not as artistically-sensible as The Bad Seed, what Mutiny! does right is what Nick Cave had been striving for; A demented, almost neanderthal take on an already murky genre. That's seen best in the disconnected romp of 'Mutiny In Heaven,' the EP's best effort.
However, Mutiny!'s two best tracks, that and 'Jennifer's Veil,' share a common ancestor in The Bad Seed's 'Sonny's Burning' and 'Wild World' respectively, causing the speciality of these two to wear off. Elsewhere, 'Swampland' is an intended mess, but a mess all the same, drawing similarities to The Birthday Party's self-titled debut, while 'Say A Spell' ends things with another slow-moving drudge, strongly hinting at the Cave-driven Blues element soon to dominate their early Bad Seeds work.
C-
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