Kodac - Tibet Tapes One

G. Ziant used to tip-toe through the lil’ Neon Wilderness -- in that forest there were flashes of genius peering through the trees, usually a shambling folk-song or two that stung like an arrow to the heart. It was usually a barbed arrow that you slowly pulled from the wound. Remembering the guy’s artwork from way back -- sculptures constructed from rusted metal and rotted wood – it at once demanded attention in form, but shunned any praise and stood rather stoic in my mind. Coupled with his music, it all makes sense now. Once the LNW got brush fired out of his conciousness, the basement tapes began. Months ago, beer in hand, he told me he’s completely “through with rock and roll” as nothing but CAN fueled his twilights and dawns.

You can’t remake Tago Mago, but you can always come damn close. Still Ziant, or now Kodac, existed in drone, a direct opposition to rock, the guitar, and the roommate’s credo. Ducking downstairs to complete a drone was probably necessity at some point. Ziant drowned himself in industrial-grade drone – either whipping copper against the wall for hours on end or pressing pedals and reverb into long, meditative cycles.

Jaw is now agape. Kodac’s Tibet Tapes One is a showdown on the border between the grass and the pavement. In both arenas, this one-man show is in complete control over his environment. Man vs. Nature vs. Mechanics vs. Himself? The drones still win out, but they are nuanced, organic, Oval on blast (I’ve been listening to a lot of Oval again) void of technicality or process. Perfect titles set the mood for songs like “Aderol Horn” and “Artnam” – but the CAN wins out, the Silver Apples win out, Wire wins out. He’s flipping over steel trashcans and pounding away, creating loops with feedback and demon beats with a metal heart. Try not to get wrecked on the tribal “Watch Remain,” where people say “they found a way through the maze” with the “sand in their veins.” Ziant’s love for visceral chaos and slanted punk can be found in “New Crooks Same Hooks.” That’s just the sub-material in my mind, the Tibet Tapes One squeaks in anthem freak-folk with “Richard Brautigan Drawing a Flower” (veers on hippie jam) and the enthusiastic Pink Flag update, synth-doused speed-fever of “Rough Parade.” Press this immediately. Beg for one of these, it’s that essential.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Well written Kevin. This album makes me want to move to a abandoned paper mill in SW Ohio and recorded nothing but raw materials and long out of date machinery.