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It doesn't do you a lick of good during the day.
A spoonful of sugar, meanwhile...
Keeps your dentist happy?
It's really good. Old school Foos.
While surrounding music industry forefronts shifted more towards bread and circuses, it should come as no surprise that this particular record—a total deviation of such—was the doing of a teenaged punk rock participant. Sam Golden's Very Little Sleep was a promptly-abandoned pressing of five hundred LPs that had zero marketing treatment; most copies were actually destroyed. Its bass-baritone lead likens amateur dramatics, a sole protagonist crooning his most private love letters. Despite stage readiness, no song here was ever performed live, as giving this music an audience was not an immediate goal for Sam. Instead, his body of work serves mostly as a token of bereavement, of childhood maternal loss, memorializing the parent whose inheritance funded all production on the album. Crafted in Northern California 36 years ago, copies have since traveled outside the home state and country despite limited availability, all bearing the message "this album is dedicated to the memory of Peggy Golden."
Sam's one-man band developed an unparalleled sound. Punk in nature for its layers of sarcasm and raw performance, but an anomaly above all.
This is sublime droning ambient music, if you've heard anything by Alio Die or indeed Mathias Grassow, then you know what to expect. If not, let me try to explain it...
Imagine you're sleeping peacefully outdoors on a warm summer night, perhaps camping with a small river nearby. Occasionally you stray into the fragile realm between sleep and waking. The organic sounds of nature around you blend into strange themes of your own imagining. The sound of life, the call of insects and the gentle flow of water, fades in and out with a curious warm drone of otherworldly nature. The stars wheel overhead and you're in awe, traveling between the familiar and the unknown.
This is something like Expanding Horizon, but I'm sure everyone would form their own impressions. It's like a book you really enjoy reading, only to finish and put away on a shelf for years. Then one day, you start it again and remember exactly why you enjoyed it so much. It's a massive slab of music, almost 2½ hours worth stretched across two CDs. The remarkable thing is there are seemingly endless directions for the musicians to go without straying too far, and each turn evokes a different feeling. It's carefully and masterfully crafted.
What does "tribal ambient" mean? Drumming in the distance picked up by remotely placed microphones?
What does "tribal ambient" mean? Drumming in the distance picked up by remotely placed microphones?
Or should I just listen to it and found our for my self, Sir Axo?