For Neeram Pularumbol (As the Dawn Breaks), my follow-up record to the 2021 release on OnTheCorner Records (When the Waters Refused Our History), I wanted to do a deep dive into Indian percussion instruments that have strong links to communal rituals that are played in various sized drum-ensembles.
Following an East Coast screening tour at independent bookstores, the pilot episode of new comedy sitcom Broadway Books was released in conjunction with National Bookseller Day last month. A charming alternative to the traditional film festival circuit, the literary-based television series is advertised both as a handmade antidote to the looming technocratic sprawl as well as a love letter to neighborhood bookstores everywhere. A former employee of the Upper West Side’s Book Culture — where the pilot was filmed on location — the series was created and directed by Carianne King and developed during a pilot writing class at the Upright Citizens Brigade. Originally a self-funded pandemic project, Carianne’s collaborative UCB experiences pushed the endeavor forward. In addition to King, the show’s skillful female creative production team comes courtesy of visual production company Mirmade.
The downside of an enchanting revelry comes at waking to realize it was all a dream. This was the feeling on learning Nedra Talley, the final nightingale of that inimitable trio, The Ronettes, had emitted her last sigh.
I’ve known writer Jeff Jackson for quite a while now, and one of the pleasures of that has been seeing his creative endeavors expand. To wit: the work that he and his collaborators in the band Julian Calendar have released in recent years: haunting post-punk with an expansive set of influences and a penchant for deconstruction. I spoke with Jackson about the group’s new album Speaking a Dead Language and their evolution since 2020.
Darius Jones sits alone on stage minutes before tonight’s show at the Cunneen-Hackett Arts Center in Poughkeepsie, calmly detonating blasts from his alto saxophone, two-to-three second streaks booming across the theater and fading to a moment’s silence just in time for the next one. They’re foghorn loud, piercing, but they seem like more than mere warm up exercises. Perhaps he’s testing the structural integrity of the joint and/or mapping the room’s acoustics—gauging the capabilities of tonight’s worksite and the best ways to utilize them.
There’s a lot going on in Karen Schoemer’s new album August, which blends her wide-ranging approach to writing lyrics with musical contributions from the likes of Mike Watt and Amy Rigby. We spoke with Schoemer about the making of this album, her work with Bernadette Mayer, and how August differs from her earlier musical and literary ventures.
Travis Egedy has a lot going on. You may know him best from his musical work under the name Pictureplane or the designs he’s created for the clothing company Alien Body. Pictureplane has a new album out this fall, titled Sex Distortion, and we got together over email to discuss that record, Egedy’s approach to collaboration, and how the aesthetics of horror have shaped his work.
Across the lake to the north, the sky darkens, blue to grey. The wind whips. Pines and birches bend. But the skies above remain clear. We’re about fifty yards offshore, standing on and swimming around rocks a few feet below the surface. Waves rise and fall. The water is warm and splashes our faces. It feels safe, comforting, to be in this space, with a beer to sip, balance to maintain, and a distant storm to watch.