Spaceheads - Time and Spaceheads - 27-track compilation of groovy 1990s duo of Andy Diagram (trumpet/electronics) & Richard Harrison (drums)
27 tracks from Spaceheads early period, all remastered and pressed on vinyl for the very first time in this magnificent 3LP box set. These songs were pulled from their first three studio albums (Spaceheads, Angel Station, Low Pressure), two live albums (Round the Outside, Live 1999), and two compilations (Ho! Fat Wallet, Compilations). All three LPs are on silver vinyl, packed in printed jackets and inner sleeves, in a hot foil-stamped slipcase, with a unique box set ornament, in a numbered edition of 300 units.
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Dustedâs Opinionated, Non-Consensus Guide to the 1990s
The Fatima Mansions
The 1990s. Some of us lived through them. A few formed our musical selves during this pivotal decade. We watched hip hop emerge and swell to vast commercial proportions. We wondered what indie meantâŠand if it meant anything at all. We pondered whether lo-fi was charming, or just made it harder to hear the flaws. And mostly we listened to records that moved us, a few of which turn up on the decade-defining consensus lists, but most of which donât. Here are a few albums that made us who we are. We chose one each and refused to put them in numerical order (theyâre alphabetical by artist). Feel free to add your own in the comments. Everybodyâs 1990s were different, after all.
Contributors include Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Andrew Forell, Bryon Hayes, Christian Carey, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Ian Mathers and Justin Cober-Lake.
Bark Psychosis â Hex (Circa/Caroline)
Perhaps most famous for prompting music writer Simon Reynolds to coin the term âpost rock,â Hex by Bark Psychosis still sounds oddly timeless â and certainly unlike many bands who would come to be described by the phrase. While legions of post-rock bands would emerge during the late 1990s and early 2000s with a lamentable dependence on dramatic shifts in dynamics, Bark Psychosis used rock instrumentation in more subtle and unique ways. Hex has more in common with bands such as Talk Talk and The Blue Nile, who prized atmosphere and texture over more direct songcraft. As a result, the albumâs seven tracks take a long time to go nowhere, elegantly prowling around in the shadows like a stray cat. While Graham Sutton is far from a conventional singer, his disaffected vocals sound right at home in these ink-black, urban expanses. âAbsent Friendâ is perhaps the albumâs most dub-influenced track, dappled with melodica and pinned to terra firma by a stubbornly simplistic bassline. âFingerspitâ is an eerie jazz nightmare, as if the players in some subterranean club have forgotten to play their instruments, so instead resort to hammering away at a single chord. The bandâs commitment to maintaining a desolate tone makes the moments of levity all the more gorgeous, such as the woodwind textures on âA Street Sceneâ and âEyes and Smiles.â The magnificent instrumental closer, âPendulum Man,â eventually delivers some lasting reprieve from the gloom.
Tim Clarke Â
The Bevis Frond â Son of Walter (Flydaddy/Reissued on Light in the Attic)
Son Of Walter by Bevis Frond
Already a decade into his run as the Bevis Frond, Nick Salomon pulled back from the full-band, studio-produced aesthetic that culminated in New River Head. He recorded Son of Walter by himself, at home, but âbedroom popâ this is not. It sprawls. It rears. It rages. It surges in inexorable waves on the strength of spiralling guitar solos and delicate, folk-derived melodies. From the opening blare of fuzz in âPlastic Elvis,â through the wistful jangle of âGoodnight from the Band,â I love every song on this album. Sure there are highlights, the blistered, caterwauling romance of âRed Hair,â the Neil-Young-into-Jimi fireblast of âBarking or False Point Blues,â the lilting, surprisingly earwormy chorus of âRaining on TV,â but itâs really all good. As a young mom in the late 1990s, I found solace in spidery âForgivenâ about a love sanded down by life (âSheâs alwaysâŠexhaustedâ). The tune is worn down to a thread but still lovely, and it leads right into the black hole swirl of âAll Hope Is Going Without You.â Spare beauty and psychedelic overload, cheek by jowl and wonderful.
Jennifer Kelly
 The Fatima Mansions â Valhalla Avenue (Kitchenware)
On The Fatima Mansionsâ 1992 album Valhalla Avenue, songwriter Cathal Coughlan (who passed this last May), sets his sights on corruption, religious extremism and human stupidity like Flann OâBrienâs furious younger brother. Moving between a Scott Walker croon and the coruscating intensity of a barroom preacher with Ministry on the jukebox, Coughlan and his bandmates create moments of poetic beauty (âNorth Atlantic Wind,â âPurple Windowâ) and maelstroms of indignant chaos (â1000%,â âGo Home Bible Mike). The fierce irreverence of their musical juxtapositions â lounge, industrial, sampling â and their no-fucks-given attitude remains singular today and Coughlinâs intense romanticism, mordant wit, political satire and apocalyptic imagery marks him as one of great lyricists of his time. Valhalla Avenue spent a week at the low end of British album charts, was not released in America and made nary a dent in Australia. Thanks to an Irish workmate in Germany who ceremoniously presented me a cassette of their early singles âOnly Losers Take the Busâ and âBlues for Ceausescuâ, Valhalla Avenue is still on regular rotation round here.
Andrew Forell Â
 Flying Saucer Attack â Further (Domino / Drag City) Â
Flying Saucer Attack was the flagship band of that other 1990s Bristol scene, the one that didnât revolve around trip hop. Â David Pearce and his friends favored a blend of coruscating noise, delicate drones, and airy folk over downtempo hip hop beats. With its DIY aesthetic, FSA championed home recording and a âless is moreâ attitude to music-making, paralleling that of contemporary acts such as Windy & Carl. Â Further was the bandâs sophomore release and stripped away much of the razor wire-laced bombast of its debut. Â FSA, which at the time was a loose collective centered around Pearce and then-girlfriend Rachel Brook, began to incorporate more acoustic guitar into their songs, and took a measured approach to noise and feedback. Â Pearce allowed his deep and resonant voice to drift above the misty haze of the music; Brook uncharacteristically emits rays of vocal sunshine on âStill Pointâ. Â The resulting album is one of raw grace, a careful balancing act between tranquility and chaos. Â Further is as bleary and beautiful as its cover art, and it stood out elegantly amidst the various frayed threads of 1990s underground music.
Bryon HayesÂ
John Hiatt â Walk On (Capitol)
John Hiattâs 1995 recording Walk On is an under sung masterpiece. Two collaborators that he would continue to keep in his band, until they were purloined for more lucrative gigs, multi-instrumentalist David ImmerglĂŒck and bassist Davey Farragher, join drummer Michael Urbano and several backing vocalists, Bonnie Raitt noteworthy among them, to support Hiatt and supply versatile arrangements. âCry Love,â âYou Must Go,â and the title track provide a kick-off of catchy singles. Deeper in the release, Raitt and Hiatt duet on âI Canât Wait,â a song that, if there were any justice, would have charted higher. Hiatt is prescient about the endless investigations and rise of militia groups during the second term of the Clinton administration in âShredding the Documentâ âNative Son,â and âWrote it Down and Burned It.â A hidden track hearkens back to the height of CD distribution.Â
Christian Carey
 Peter Jefferies â The Last Great Challenge In A Dull World (Xpressway/Ajax/De Stijl)
In retrospect, the musicians who joined forces to form the Xpressway collective can be recognized as aesthetic game-changers. Not only did they unleash the forces of sonic resistance in their native New Zealand, raising clouds of gilded splinters as they pushed against the grain; they issued a permission-granting challenge to every subsequent wave of refuseniks determined to freely fuse noise, rock, and anything else at hand. But their success was by no means a given when Peter Jefferies made The Last Great Challenge In A Dull World on borrowed gear in a drafty old house on the edge of a container port at the end of the southern winter of 1989. At the time, the Xpressway crew were just the losers who were left behind when Flying Nun Records chased the brass ring north. Jefferies, like Alastair Galbraith, the Dead C, Peter Gutteridge, David Mitchell and the Terminals, had given Flying Nun some great music, and subsequently found himself ignored. A gifted multi-instrumentalist, singer, and sound recorder, he became the sceneâs four-track documentarian, and he called on key associates to help make what he then felt might be his last testament. On Last Great Challenge he synthesized Cale-derived balladry, early Ubu rock, and post-This Heat sound manipulation into a singular statement of intent and reproach so acute that it, and everyone associated with it, could not be ignored. The album, which has been issued by three different labels, is currently out of print, but not that hard to find. It remains a stern condemnation of every lazy record out there that canât be bothered to reach past the sky.
Bill Meyer Â
 Nausea â Extinction (Profane Existence)
More and more, metal is moving out of its subgenre-specific silos and beyond its backward-gazing obsessions with hidebound traditions. But from its start, crust was a hybrid form, combining the politically motivated anti-aesthetic of anarcho-punk with metalâs swaggering muscle. It makes some sense, then, that this influential American crust record emerged from the Lower East Side, where hardcore punk was already cross-pollinating with metal; see Cause for Alarm (1986), the second LP by Agnostic Front, a band dominated by Roger Miret, then husband of Nauseaâs singer Amy Miret, nee Keim. By the time Nausea made Extinction, its only LP, Al Long had joined the band, filling out the dual-vocal, female-male attack in a nod to Crass. And while âpunkâ usually follows the word crust in discussions of the style, Extinction is crucially informed by metal: âButchersâ owes much to Motörhead; âClutchesâ rumbles like early Saint Vitus; the opening minutes of âBlackened Doveâ could be from a Witchfinder General record. For this reviewer, âInherit the Wastelandâ is the key song, full of dystopian dread, replete with an enormous breakdown section and Vic Venomâs enthusiastic shredding. Itâs an unhappy, unstoppable blast. Other metal and metal-adjacent sub-sub- and microgenres had formed by 1990: goregrind was already a thing, and the Slap a Ham crew was busily birthing powerviolence. Bandana thrash was just over the horizon. But few of those modish musical notions have had the substance (grimy, grotty and grave as it might be) and staying power of crust. Exhibit A: Extinction. It still stinks up the joint.
Jonathan Shaw
 Readymade â The Dramatic Balanced By (No Records)
By 1997 shoegaze had ebbed back significantly from whatever high tide mark it had attained, and nobody was particularly looking towards Vancouver for it, if they were looking at all. And yet out of what sounds like a combo of ennui, political unrest, movies (particularly, from the cover on down, Mean Streets), âtaking speed in Germany,â drum machines, insomnia, rain, power grids, airports, four-track recorders, windows, and urban sprawl, enigmatic trio Readymade created one of the great lost epics of the era and genre. They didnât stop here, absorbing members of the sadly even more obscure Pipedream and producing two excellent, gleaming and ambiguous records in the next decade, but only on The Dramatic Balanced By was their rougher, fuzzier, more expansive side given free reign. The result, whether the craggier, more anthemic likes of âBloomsbury Boxcutterâ and âDreamt I Fled,â the crepuscular trudge of âFollowing a Typewriter to Sleep,â or the mournfully lambent âHamburg,â holds together as a great example of the kind of record that forms its own world, one you can get lost in. That record climaxes with âHead Falls to Shoulder,â one of the most overwhelming storms of sound and feeling anyone was making in 1997. The band may be long gone in 2022 (although blessedly for anyone wanting to check them out, all three LPs can be streamed), but their expansive opus of city-bound alienation endures.
Ian Mathers
 Spaceheads â Spaceheads (Dark Beloved Cloud)
Spaceheads by Spaceheads
On first listen, Spaceheads' self-titled 1995 album can feel like a throwaway. The record contains a fair bit of silliness and didn't come about as a deeply theorized piece of art. Trumpeter Andy Diagram and percussionist Richard Harrison had been playing in various jazz bands together when they started recording some duo improvisations and playing with the tapes. Early release Ho! Fat Wallet sounds as indebted to 1980s hip hop as anything, and its mix of brass and beats would still make for great backing tracks. Spaceheads followed with a weird twist on, well, just about everything. It can sit not uncomfortably on an EDM shelf, but that term doesn't accurately capture what they were doing. Stretches of the album are funky without being funk or industrial without being industrial. Some moments are abstract enough to be almost incoherent while others could play in a Hollywood soundtrack; âDown in Outer Spaceâ sequencing into âJoyridingâ provides all of that in a short burst. Spaceheads sound like a group that could have been any number of things or that could have floundered with pointless fiddling and experimentation. Instead, they pursued the only thing they seem to have any interest in being: exactly themselves. In doing so, they created an album with quirks and surprises that continue to provide as much joy and listening pleasure as anything going on around them (whatever that field might be).
This Thursday on our final installment of #spaceheads go! We discuss the discovery of a new exoplanet(s) and the possibility of life after earth. So tune in 106.5fm 9pm est and join in on the discussion #BlackTribbles #Nasa #space #spaceexploration #earth (at PhillyCAM)
Change is in the air!
A New World is coming!
The release of Spaceheads 13th album coincides with the centenary of the 1917 Russian Revolution.
The 13 melodic, bright and positive new tracks celebrate âThe Peopleâs Struggleâ throughout the ages to achieve a better world,
via Andy Diagramâs iconic trumpet, fed through various electronics and effects and looped over Richard Harrisonâs drums and bits and pieces of unusual home-Ââmade percussion.
Andy Diagram - Trumpet through effects and LoopersÂ
Richard Harrison - Drums and Percussion
TONIGHT! #SpaceHeads continues with its intergalactic voyage as we sail the cosmos to discover and learn more about the planet #Jupiter tune in to 106.5fm from 9pmâ11pm to join in on the discussion #BlackTribbles #universe #space #Jupiter (at PhillyCAM) https://www.instagram.com/p/BrDAoxQBKsN/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=hdlpbfaxvfq8
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Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
12/6/18 #SpaceHeads continues with its intergalactic voyage as we sail the cosmos to discover and learn more about the planet #Jupiter tune in to 106.5fm from 9pmâ11pm to join in on the discussion #BlackTribbles #universe #space #Jupiter https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq7YUeKBfaH/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=18t2umzdrrg62