Alt Citizen Review

“Rescue” us: The Vacant Lots latest single



“I need a rescue,” sing/speaks Jared Artaud of the electronic-psych band The Vacant Lots and don’t we all at this point. Their latest single: Rescue, is out April 24th and is an appropriate release for these tumultuous times. The Vacant Lots are a musical duo which seems to have been under quarantine for almost a decade already, and this current single evokes such. Portrayed musically is a feeling of condensed isolation (with a catchy beat of course.) It is the first track to reach mass consumption from their upcoming full-length (via Fuzz Club Records) Interzone, which will hit the market on June 26th 2020. “Interzone, you say?” whispers goat-foot boy whose room stacked with William Burroughs paper-back novels creeps inside your weary brain-folds. Yes. Interzone. The band is aware. Their press release even addresses such. Anyway…

This new track finds the band in familiar territory. If you are already interested in The Vacant Lots’ sound you will dig this song, if you aren’t up-to-speed, well, it is a quality, modern single, comprised of a pummeling beat, synth-phonic bass and delightful electronic swooshes having cocktails with fuzz guitar and laid-back vox. Jared and Brian have consistently produced material that has “heart” and if Rescue is a glimpse into the future LP, the duo is not giving up this vibe.
If further description of the current sound is what you require, this new track (though less abrasive) has definite similarities to another duo, New York’s classic: Suicide. In fact, singer Jared has been working on resurrecting a lot of Vega’s solo works in the past couple of years and even used Alan’s very own Arp synthesizer on the Lots record. Keyboardist and percussionist, Brian recalls:

“Jared and I bounced ideas back and forth while working in seclusion on opposite coasts. We would
just send files to each other until the songs were arranged. Then we met up at the studio in Brooklyn
where we were fortunate enough to borrow Alan Vega’s Arp synth and finished recording with
engineer Ted Young. We then worked with Maurizio Baggio to mix it.”
Ah, as we all wake for another moon cycle and search across streams of unlocked windows while news of illness and revival plant seeds of a new dawn shaking in backyard ponds filled with short-lived goldfish, the best we can do is stay inside and listen to music, send praise to the healthcare workers, and to humanities determination to survive and create. Check out Rescue, why not? From there, listen to some more new tracks then let your mind travel to a mysterious place of vivid imagination you forgot existed before this pause.

Alt Citizen Feature

Psychically Ill: A tribute of words for Tres Warren



Clouds of fuzz He sits on. Thump of kick drum, drone of analog keys, give way to the gospel choir, and a river of wah guitars of simplistic pleasure — pass the tea of another time, please — find a road filled with shadows — don’t turn away, four pencil drawn skulls are laughing for unknown dimensions, shining brightly.

Psychic Ills are a band whose repertoire doesn’t include a song that isn’t “cool” (though many of their tunes transcend past this overused, yet elusive description of rock music). Because of this fact, Tres Warren and the Ills intrigued me from the “get-go” when I arrived to lay roots in NYC. I recall hearing Elizabeth Hart’s warm bass sliding amidst synthscapes and swirling head-pans of Tres, and saying to myself: “This is the music I wanted to find in this city.” They had enough sleaze mixed with a true understanding of sonic layering and instrumentation. Warren’s subtle vocal style is welcome in any listener’s home, as well as pleasant on ears exposed to the loud and live. Likewise, I enjoyed his project, Compound Eye (I scored an attractive copy of that vinyl which spat forth some great sound explorations, similar in-nature to Fripp and Eno’s ambient LPs (minus Fripp).

I was fortunate to have several interactions with the man, though all were flawed in one way or another. I was asked to DJ records for an Ills show at Union Pool, BK and my needles got busted on the way. I had to resort to a friend’s iPod filled almost solely of Lee Hazelwood (not awful, but redundant.) I drank too much and made an odd display of records I was going to play (some great Iggy and Link Wray bootlegs.) Tres walked up to the booth, gave me a chuckle, a nice try, and a pat on the back. Good guy. He also emailed me instructions on the best way to go about releasing physical music for my own band. Much appreciated.

Our last meeting was at Coyote Club, BK. Tres stood watching me dance like a fool with my partner Lia, whilst he was shrouded in darkness, calm, stoic, hair slightly in his face as per usual. “Hey come move those hips!” — no reply. I stopped. We chatted a bit about our upcoming albums. In no way did I assume this was the last time we’d ever meet in-person. A few weeks later (amidst Covid-19 chaos) I received the unfortunate news, Tres had passed on into infinite Space — a tragedy — too young, too soon. What struck me initially was: this guy is real. The international gang of transcendental electronic songsmiths (already few in numbers) dwindled. “One of us” had left the party, far from being over.

Though this piece may seem brief or relatively cold, so are our waking lives. Be kind to one another. Be thankful for health. Dare to be true. Wherever Tres may have traveled, his music will continue to be spun for a long time. He was honest in his endeavors. His music reflects such. So give another listen. Any of the records, they are all great, you’ll dig em…

A last note. As Burroughs suggested in the 1940’s: It’s possible as we leave our body the brain mutates into a mystical form of electric transference which travels to unknown realms – or we simply perish.

Either way, Tres Warren was a person who aided in mutating our brains in this current state of being. Warren invested his time here to experiment in audio delights, to move listeners into a suspended relaxation; for this, he will be dearly missed.

“Trying to make sense of my life. Going through another change. Going through another change.” TW


Alt Citizen Feature

Cerebral corpse walking on brass horns : an interview with Johnny Scuotto

Photos by Felicia Wolfe

As a Star is forming in harsh abyss, collecting particles, sucking blank matter, heating, expelling colors and bizarre life forms – does it conceive metamorphosis? Does it willingly purchase a sharp razor to place above eyebrows and shave them bald? Does it progress through demented spasms as ritual death or visit a Hopi Skeleton House and laugh with those weightless about discarded melon? I’m betting this is Roman, in nature. As silver links dangle from fevered wrists. My question to you, curious reader: When is the last time you danced? If you can’t remember, you should visit the dead more often. I recall my hips shaking, lips curling, and legs twisting, as recently as witnessing, The Johnny Scuotto Band.
     Johnny, as an artist, has been something of an enigma in New York’s music scene for a while now, and I get excited when I learn of a new project he’s involved with (I at least know it won’t be boring.) After a stint playing metal…literally, banging on metal with Art Grey Noise Quintet, he started a few good bands then went into hiatus. Recently, he has re-emerged with a group of players that get down to the essence of what rock music Is. I call it: scum dance-shoe polish-mod bop; call it what you will, it’s great to move to. Johnny’s showmanship is a sight to see. A pleasing combination of thoughtfulness and sleaze, as New York bred.
     I caught up with Scuotto in DUMBO, BK, formally, simply, “The Waterfront”.  Like Johnny, the neighborhood has transformed. Once a dumping ground for bodies and underground clubs, it is now a Hollywood representation of Brooklyn’s future. However, it does have amazing views, timeless factory buildings, and ghosts of quivering time stalking the grounds.
    Pulse machines take notice – cumbersome tunics are no longer sliced to your liking. Hieroglyphs are nothing but English pudding smeared under black leather boots, sharpened to kill tough cerebral corpses. Masking tape will not help you create the labels you desire…
How ya feeling, Johnny?
Johnny Scuotto: I’m okay.
So, these recent songs I’ve had the pleasure of listening to, sound amazing live, and you seem to have captured this energy in the studio. Was your approach to recording focused on the live experience or geared more toward an “at home” listening vibe? I’m assuming ideally both?
JS: Both. You know, live is a completely different animal. Multiple elements come in and out. I think it would be boring if we always replicated what’s on the new recordings. Why keep doing the same thing over and over? It’s more fun experimenting. Hearing happy accidents. That’s what playing live is all about…to me. As far as the recordings go, I’m happy with how they came-out. We got our sound across.
Is this methodology how the band came about? Did you choose musicians based on their improvisational skills? I understand you write all the material, no?
JS: Yes. I write the tunes, then record on GarageBand. The skeleton of the track. Once that happens, I bring it to the band. They learn the parts then elaborate. They’re a big part of the process. They emphasis certain notes, add a few here and there — actually the bass player, Grant Parker, wrote a few of his own parts. He’s incredible. The main songs, however, come from me playing guitar and singing the melody, but yes, the band is great.
What inspired the new songs? I’d insist this seems to be a new musical direction for you. The upcoming album sounds more “straight-forward” than your past output which seemed brutal.
JS: Well, abrasive, yes. It was a different time in my life. I’ve evolved in a different way musically and artistically. I was a lot angrier back then. I still am, sometimes. Depends where and when you catch-me (laughs.) Honestly, I didn’t feel completely myself a few years back. Like living as someone else. I feel sometimes artists have to do that to find there own way. You know, step out of someone else’s shoes and find your own.
You have wonderful shoes.
JS: Thanks.
Coming into your own, how much effect has New York City had on you? It is a place that is always changing. Scenes come and go, neighborhoods change, and as an artist, one can’t help but notice. As someone who has grown-up here, do you feel like a voice for a certain culture that expels from this metropolis?
JS: In a way. I mean, I take influence from what surrounds me, but I don’t walk around all day looking for it. Some of my stage performance comes directly from homeless people having fits. Mental illness is a real issue for me and how it’s dealt with in this city and America. Anyway, I’m not doing anything different. I’m taking from a lot of things I like and hope it turns into something uniquely my own thing. I think it has. I’m just putting my own story onto what others have done in the past. I enjoy, Lou Reed, Suicide, Leonard Cohen, Bowie is a big influence. Look…
I’m consistently observing music scenes as an outside entity. I prefer to not pigeon hole myself to one sound, look or sub-culture, as many of my contemporaries have done. My music is made for everyone. As soon as I’m too comfortable with my work, I make a drastic change.
Do you feel you have a “message” or “persona” you are exposing or pushing in your new material?
JS: I’m not really one for direct “messages.” I mean, I’m not trying to evoke a crazy change in society, but there are definitely things I sing about that one may consider political. I have lyrics about school shootings, based around kids with mental problems, as I stated earlier. This country has a terrible health system. These kids are not being watched properly and are being heavily or not at all medicated. Mental health is just not discussed enough. I put this content in a dance song. I want people to enjoy the tune, dance, but hopefully stop and say, “Hey, what are these lyrics?” I prefer hidden meaning.
You know…the terrorists are here. Running this country. On both sides. The deranged Right and the Bohemian Nazi Left. If anything, I’m singing against non-dialogue. I’m for freedom of speech. I feel we should attempt to find a common ground that helps everyone. I’m no spokes person for what freedom is. I just am doing what I want to do and that’s good enough. Push movement. Coming together. Bring some New York Street to the stage. Dark content. Dance music.

Well said. Final question: Life after death…any thoughts?


 Amidst phonies, maybes, possibles, nostalgic cripples, caffeine filled baskets of Alphabet City, and comatose victims of malicious Brooklyn – often times truth can be found in curated bins.
Johnny Scuotto, in many ways like Lou and David before him, encompass a city that is as much theirs as they are It’s. His music over the years has progressed or more apropos, morphed, from guitars sounding as drills on skulls to Spector filled dance rock. If you don’t enjoy it, well, it’s not your city, is it? Beware though, soon your jukeboxes filled with memories will warp, and Johnny, will sing: “In the pale wind we fade to white, what doesn’t fly stays inside, from the cradle to the cage, such is life” and come for you sooner than you think.

Alt Citizen Interview

Before we’re born. Before we die: An interview with Jared Artaud of The Vacant Lots

Polaroids by Luz Gallardo

“Spin the eddies of the sky inside these black petals. Shadows have covered the earth that bears us. Open a pathway to the ploughing amongst stars. Enlighten us, escort us with your host, Silver legions, on mortal course, Which we strive towards at the core of night.” – A.A.
     Ah, night…at it’s core. A few have dared impose onto her shoulders or kiss her in candle lit rooms of burgundy velvet, colors and wax at their finest, shadows in corners of soundproof warehouses, and I am on my way to the cocktail lounge, Night of Joy, in Brooklyn. Jared Artaud, of The Vacant Lots,  is there. We plan to have a chat (mainly, I will inquire about the duo’s latest EP, ‘Exit’, recorded in Berlin at Cobra Studio by psych-rock guru, Anton Newcombe.) The Vacant Lots have always flirted with the darker aspects of modern music, slicing off a piece of Vega’s meat, yet daring to believe and exist in their own unique sound. Throbbing drum machines, Silvertone amps pushed to their max, and gritty organ blurps, reminiscent of a time in New York City that may never return. Regardless, Jared and Brian display themselves in black and white. The Vacant Lots, don’t adhere to trends, rather they continue to work-out the voices in two heads, with a common goal — provide a listener with sonic truths. Whether this feeling is blissful or strange, it is for you and the night, to decide.
     The club…Jared is DJing. It’s his ‘Damage Control’ residency. The Telescopes, ‘Perfect Needle’ is playing as I walk in. He is clad in a black trench, sat next to a muted lantern in an otherwise dark venue. We greet. Grab a couple of pints, and dig right in…

The Vacant Lots are no longer a “new band” with something to prove to the World-at-Large, about how to tour internationally, release records on important labels, and record material that is as much “raw” as it is “well-produced”; how has time and attention effected the duo since starting out on this journey? Or, how have you departed from “Departure”?

Jared Artaud:  I think the records we make document the evolution of the band. Our sound has changed over the years, but the original vision of the band remains the same. We just continue to make the records we want to make and don’t worry about conforming to trends, just working within the limitations of two people. We consistently strive to push ourselves forward, sonically speaking, and continue to refine what we’re doing, even if our perspectives on life and art change over time.

Agreed. I feel the latest is very well produced, yet the focus of your debut is intact. On a similar note…a 2 part question — How has working with such legends as Anton, Sonic Boom, and Alan Vega affected your work? In the press release for the new EP, you discuss how much of a creative force Anton is in the studio, but I’m curious to know how much influence he had on sounds or arrangements? Also, I know you’re a producer in your own right, but do you find it intimidating when working with artists who have such an honored past and present or business as usual?

Jared:  Working with Anton in the studio for 10 hour days in a row, you learn a lot. There’s no time for overthinking when you’re constantly creating. When songs start to form from the ideas we brought into the studio, you really get a glimpse of what makes Anton such a unique songwriter and producer. I’m grateful cos working with someone like Anton has doubtlessly made me a better artist. I’ve always been inspired by the process of how things are made. So getting to collaborate with other musicians that made me want to make records in the first place is an incredible honor. Anton is extremely self-disciplined and continually innovates while making key decisions on the spot. I like the zone we get into with him in Berlin. He’s created an environment at his studio that I find inspiring and liberating.

I really enjoy the sonic reach of your latest single, ‘Bells’. It seems to have a late-80s UK vibe, meaning a wonderfully layered, yet minimalist feel, but many of these groups (like Echo & the Bunnymen or J&MC) had about five members in them; as a duo do you find it difficult to relay the songs live?

Jared: We never had a problem translating our songs live. The studio and the stage are two separate things. When we make records we aren’t thinking about the live set up. If we want bass, we don’t need a bass player, but one of us has to create it. At times it has been challenging but we’ve always managed to execute the sounds and ideas that we want. It helps that we both play a number of different instruments. We reinterpret our songs for live, we don’t carbon copy. We try to stay true to the song but they are usually reimagined both technically and aesthetically.

Will Vacant Lots forever be a 2-piece or have you ever considered expanding the band?

Jared: Expanding our sound, yes, always. But not the number. It’ll always be two.

The band is headlining at Sunnyvale in Brooklyn on Friday the their a difference in approach when being the draw as opposed to opening for bands such as, The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club & The Dandy’s?

Jared: There is usually more pressure from the promoter to sell tickets but since the show is free that isn’t the case. You play a longer set when you headline, so the dynamic and movement of the set is different. You’re not locked into a 30 minute time zone. The focus is less militant and more transportive.

Looking forward to that show, for sure. So what is next on Jared Artaud’s agenda? New LP or possibly another poetry book, and how difficult is it to maintain your focus on these two mediums?

Jared: I just want to make records and tour. Vacant Lots third album will be out next year and we’re in the process of mixing it right now. I finished a third poetry book and want to release that next year as well. I’m also mixing and producing a few other bands right now including working on an Alan Vega music project that I’m terribly psyched about.

I think it’s a balancing act. Making records and writing poetry books are two different mediums. You can infuse rock n roll songs with poetry but it cant suffocate the music. I like having another outlet. There is a totally different style and voice split from a shared vision when it comes to writing poetry than with lyrics. When I’m home I’m usually working on something whether it’s music, poetry or painting.

Well, thank you so much for your time Jared. It’s been a pleasure. One final question, I ask all my interviews: Life after death. Any thoughts?

Jared: What it was like before we were born is what it will be like when we die.

Warmth rushes between soft pink mind, as layers provide. Analog synths and solid guitars are made for a Funeral Party, so “let it rain.” As I step back onto the city streets, I asses: Artaud, is sincere in what he does. He loves music and it’s forever secrets. He lives it. The Vacant Lots have no intention of ending their craft anytime soon. They are friends, musicians, artists. They are not in this game to make popularity blogs (though that is what is happening.) The Vacant Lots, simply want to create music they, themselves, enjoy; who can’t get behind that?

Choosing Anton, to produce/record the latest album, only furthers my prior statement. Personally, I felt a bit lost and hopeless (many years back) with what was being pushed onto airwaves and record shelves, until The Brian Jonestown Massacre began recording again. Anton, consistently inspires and provides listeners with vast musical landscapes of beauty and psychic space. The Vacant Lots understand this. The duo has compiled it into their language. Stare closely at the optical art on ‘Exit’. Two beams. Hear the Bells? Get found. Get lost.

Alt Citizen Feature

Crippled Swirling Dome — Is Jesus, cross? A few words on vinyl records with those who make them with Mark of Muddguts, Mike of Mystery Lights, Lia of Heavy Birds, Harry of Greenway

Interest in anything is the first step towards waking among floating Goddesses, who sip tea (verbatim). This is a fact. So what compels one to become interested? Who are those out to murder the interested, may be easier to find, but I have no interest in those folks. My curiosities lay with the lovers, creators of tribes, the blinking culture, whose breath aids beating hearts and sailing ships — “Nothing to it, but to do it,” coughs Mark Cross, the visionary behind Muddguts Records…Didn’t Blake, say something? I who create the lamb, create thee.
     Hold on, the focus now is on why and how the medium of vinyl records has survived and thrived for all these years. Will it remain for decades to come? Hell, in 1977, NASA (the space program, not the brains behind Alt Citizen) sent a solid gold record into the dark realms of outer-space as a means of communication, as a, how-to-understand humankind reference source, in-case the probe came into vibes of other intelligent life.
     Yes. The answer is, yes. These circles provide an experience. A pause. A ritual. Music pressed onto vinyl is a superior physical form of listening. Smoke a pipe in a Sioux teepee, watch a film on a theater’s big-screen, read poetry in drunken rooms with gusto, and put that arm down into the grooves.
Muddguts, on Graham Ave in Brooklyn, is renovating. I’m early to meet its head, Mark Cross. I find Jesse Gordon, covered in dust outside the front entrance instead. Milky clouds pour out of the cracked door. This space, that holds as label base and art gallery, was once a beloved coffee shop (a staple, I’m told) of the neighborhood since the early 70’s, with a beautiful tin ceiling that was hidden under cheap panels. The tin is not suffocated anymore. It is exposed. Segue…
     Mark loves his community and the neighborhood he lives and works in. His esthetic is to not change or drastically overtake the ethos/culture he has encompassed (originally hailing from San Fransisco) instead, he desires to instigate a place of mutual acceptance and growth. Almost a Utopia of various mugs. Acknowledgement of the past, but a hope for a florescent future, decorated with art, enjoyment of the Now. A punk. A hippie. A soft Zeus.
     Cross arrives. I help move a large display case with Gordon. Mark decides to relocate to his Rose Tattoo Parlor…Is that Hillary in a hammock? Hot tub is not on. I suppose we all have no home, until we make it. The needle holds the ink. It’s inside…
What instigated you, as an artist in your own right, to erect a label that produces vinyl?
Mark Cross: Six months ago I had no intentions of starting a record label. It just sort of happened. I’ve been making and selling edition’d objects, shirts, and ephemera, with artists for a while, so this wasn’t a huge leap, but what inspired me initially, I think, is the band Duster.
How so?
MC: Well, they’ve been my favorite band for a while, and I’ve bought their record, “Stratosphere” many times, and these records aren’t inexpensive. They were limited because in the 90’s, when they were first released, the market was all CD based, so that’s what bands had to put out. Anyway, I decided to contact them, and propose a reissue, but someone else had asked a month before. Numero, I think? The band asked, if I were interested in putting anything new out, I said, I would in a second. I then held the first Mudd Guts presents show for them and it sold out in 10 minutes. People flew in from Australia to catch them live. Now we’re good friends. Like Surfbort. They’re my best friends, so ok, let’s put out a 7″. It’s all very organic.
Does this mean you are only going to release your pals or in other words, what do you look or listen for? What deserves to be pressed? 
MC: I have literally 3 criteria with respects to anything.
1st. Are they chill
2nd. Do I trust them
3rd. Do they know what the fuck they’re doing
The third is of no importance if the other two aren’t there. If someone is crushing it, but fucking suck as people, I don’t want anything to do with them. At the moment, I’m helping out friends because I have many that are doing amazing things and I’m in a position to facilitate and foster that talent. My motivations are furthest from financial, to a fault. I am in for sustainability.
So what is your ultimate vision for Muddguts and its social imprint?
MC: I just want to take over the World (laughs). Mainly, to expose things that don’t or can’t follow a cooperate pecking order. This is spiritual. An innocent, holy, punk party. I hope to at least be a speck in the snowball that envelopes this capitol pig machine.
Pigs are for the slaughter or to roll in mud.
MC: Yes. Oh, and Muddstock. A festival void of cooperate branding. Just an independent safe zone for people by people.
Do you feel culture as a whole is moving towards this vibe?
MC: Nothing to it, but to do it. There needs to be a changing of the guards. The only thing that never changes is that things change all the time. I mean, DIY, for lack of a better term, only exists if community supports. To start, I believe in Graham Avenue. I always attempt to move friends to open apartments and to fill vacant businesses. I just want to be part of a really cool community, so you have to make it. I mean, it’s selfish, but I want to sit on a bench and be surrounded by positive vibes.
Sounds great to me.
MC: It all boils down to community. It’s increasingly difficult to stumble into because we’re all disenfranchised. Especially in New York. Everybody’s grinding to pay the rent, also Instagram, Internet in general, is trapping people into a matrix of fictitious life. Though the Internet is great if it is used as a means to an end. To result in the real. The tangible.
Is this belief part of the reason you release and enjoy vinyl?
MC: I’ve always loved the ritual of putting on a vinyl record. Holding it. I want to hear a pop. I want a record that someone snorted coke off of. I want that coke coming through the grooves. An experience. Photos, words, sounds. There has to be an analog end. Like you’re writing on paper after we connected via social media. Well, I guess no one has to do shit, but die. That’s literally it. I don’t wanna die at the moment. I want to figure out things that make life more chill.
Life after death…any thoughts?
MC: No.
/Currently listening to: Nancy Sinatra. Black Plate. Everything on Muddguts Records/ …
Echo resonates into some sort of foggy pint – it’s already the future. Another day. Another time. It’s dark, late for suburban standards. On my way to the voice of psych-pop band, Mystery Lights, Mike Brandan’s studio/bedroom. Jumpin’ Jack Flash, can you hear his chords quiver from where you are?
     Their new LP is out, and you should go buy it. I haven’t yet, but hopefully they’ll send me one. If not, I’ll pick one up at their show. The lads worked hard, and they are setting out to conquer. Not as Napoleon or Alexander, but as Marc Anthony. I saw their ship coming years ago, but forgot to warn everyone. They landed, seduced Cleopatra (who knew it all along, but didn’t care) and planted themselves in the middle of the city. Sure they had an army, yet the Pyramids remain unharmed. The Mystery Lights are here. Practiced. Poised. They’re fun. They don’t care if you like them. They just want to make their music and play for their friends, and well…isn’t that what it is all about?
Mike Brandan: I need to get a 40.
I brought 12.
MB: If I have two 40s, I’ll know where I’m at.
Understood. Let’s go.
     Walk. Return. Room scan – Full recording set-up, electric painting with audible waterfall, poetry and mysticism books. It’s orderly and incense is burning. I decide to sit on the floor. Mike’s on an office chair, facing speakers. Ready?
As a sound artists, how much thought goes into physical release, such as vinyl? Do you compose for an at-home listener or towards a live experience?
MB: We go for the energy of a live show. To capture that sound. Wayne, the engineer from Daptone, is super good at this style of recording. Throw a couple of mics in a room and record live. At least get the rhythm section going. As far as presenting tracks on vinyl, that’s Wayne’s genius. Our new LP, To Much Tension, showcases his mixing skills and production. So yes, we want the music to sound great on record. Have a nice stereo vibe, then capture that live also, you know, recreate what strikes to each side of the listener’s brain.
Nice to know you’re into the mixing process.
MB: Well, when I was younger I was into mono, because if you’re sharing headphones with a friend, both of you are getting blasted. Recently, I’ve been appreciating stereo. The beauty of each side contemplating the other. The song, “I won’t hurt you,” inspired this change, and this focusing on recording stereo for vinyl.
Is wax your favorite medium? Do you think it’s gaining stronger interest or heading towards oblivion?
MB: No. Vinyl isn’t going anywhere. It’s nice to put one on the deck, side A, let it play all the way through, flip it. You’re looking at the cover in your hands, and you just can’t get this digitally. Albums, well most, are a story. A part of that artist’s life at that moment in time. Digitally you don’t get the entire idea. You read a book. If you go straight to chapter eight, because people say that’s the great chapter, you are missing what came before and after, the different feel of the various chapters. Even if I write, “Golden pages” on top of that particular chapter, the flow is compromised, if I don’t get involved with the entire piece, it makes no sense. Our new record is set like this. It’s suppose to be an entire experience, and as long as we make music, we are going to press it onto vinyl. I enjoy cassettes to because they’re practical in a touring van, but I believe vinyl is very important. It’s an experience. It’s a form that demands attention.
– We pause – put on music – zone out – careen off into an expose’ on influences and instruments – delve into color patterns – sound waves – wait – get it together – get to business – Alt Citizen is waiting – Nasa will let someone else write this damn thing! The night is fleeting –
MB: I grew-up in Eastern philosophy. I feel I understand the balance of light and dark. I feel darkness follows me, so I look forward to, and embrace the light. This is a reason why I don’t get to personal with my lyrics. It seems selfish or vain. Obviously if it’s done well, like a Willie Nelson type, it’s fine, but Dylan is a huge influence on me, and he doesn’t really do that. He’s all matter of fact. You know, “blowing in the wind.”
With exception of, “Blood on the Tracks”
MB: True. Though he’s mysterious.
I definitely agree with that. I heard he recently has been constructing custom iron fences for people willing to pay the bill. Anyway, what’s your ultimate goal for the Lights? The band encompasses a large part of your life and seems to be your reflection for the World.
MB: I can only answer that as Mike, not for the rest of the group, but we’ve been around for sometime now, and I believe this is because we started as close friends, who all enjoy similar music. We want to play together because it’s fun. I love arranging songs, performing them for the group and for other friends. Some people want to be famous, leave a legacy, pull out their penis and cause controversy, but I feel people who actually do leave a lasting impression never really want this type of attention. They want to make good art and love what they do. My ultimate goal is to keep having a good time and make music that I’d like to listen to. I want things genuine. I love music and words, and honesty. My goal is to be present. Be in the moment. Make music. That’s it.
Truth. Any thoughts about life after death?
MB: Ha! That’s what I think about every day! I’ll see you there, I hope. Although death doesn’t really exist…only if it’s in your mind.
/Currently listening to: Dead Moon. Neu. Brian Eno. Insecure Men. Early Grace SlickSpeedy WestThe Screamers. Parasites of the Western World/…
– BOOM –
Her space is illuminated with different pale bulbs, green, pink, candles, smoke making patterns, as it does. Lia Moon, of Heavy Birds, is listening to Donovan’s record, “Gift from a Flower to a Garden,” as I walk through the door. She is sauntering with her 12-string, playing a new song she has written for her upcoming album. There is an open copy of essays by Frank Kogan, on a shag rug (feels like some 60’s art film or Rocky Erickson’s mind.) Lia, turns down the stereo, I walk over and lean in for a kiss. We decide to flip the vinyl and lay around, but the gears are flowing and the Sun is shining. “Let’s go to Rockaway Beach,” she says. “Sounds like a plan,” I respond.
     That star in the sky is cooking, the ferry is $2.75, and the sangria at Low Tide, is a fare portion, and cold. We sit at a beach braised picnic table, and there’s a DJ spinning trippy Caribbean music from 45’s – perfect. Also, as I am about to ask Lia a few questions, Patti Smith sits across from us. The poet is dressed head-to-toe in loose, tan cloths, smiles for a second, then up again, wondering around the boardwalk, as people tend to do.
Mind if I inquire why you like vinyl records?
Lia Moon: Vinyl for me, goes back to when I was four. My mother and her boyfriend at the time were hosting a block party. They had kegs, they were grilling food, and they had a record player blasting from inside the house into the streets. They had Pink Floyd‘s, The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon, on repeat, with the occasional Beatles’ single. “Come Together”, blew my new mind. The adults had all the lights out, and left my brother and I on this blue couch, next to the loud speakers. I still remember that feeling. My brother, Adam, and I only communicating through glares of acknowledgement. I was young, but I realized that “cool” existed. It being summertime, the Sun setting through the window, “The Wall” sounded perfect. I knew I wanted to be inside this music. It felt good. It was my introduction to a new way of sensing life. It wasn’t images, it was the sound. The crackling, the hiss, the tones. Something was uncovered.
Great image. Did this feeling lead you towards wanting to make your own records or what is your motivation for pressing music?
LM: Documentation. When I’m dead, I’ll still be alive (laughs) If I don’t have a baby, the albums will be my babies. The texture, sound waves, warmth, a layer to music you can’t get elsewhere. First tape, then vinyl, then your shitty speakers at home with your dirty needle. All this adds to the fun. I like looking at the album artwork, and how it relates to the music. Actually the entire process.  Making a record connects me to the rest of the World. Entertainment as sound.
Do you think vinyl will continue its current popularity?
LM: As long as I’m alive I’ll keep making and buying records. So will my friends.
I’ve asked everyone so far on their thoughts about life after death. What’s yours?
LM: Ah, whatever Ram Dass says or… I believe in Now.
/Currently listening to: Rain Parade. Spectrum. Brian Jonestown Massacre. Fripp & Eno. Television. Spacemen 3. Nico. Bach. White Fence/…
Earth is a sphere, a record is round, our organs misshapen, all dancing, perfectly. Is it time for tea? Coffee? Harry Portnof, the fellow behind Greenway Records, is waiting at a Bakery (could this be the reason his vinyl output is so colorful?) – 11am – I’m present. Recorder on…
Hi. Let’s get right into it.
You’re unique because you actually press your own catalog from start to finish, true?
Harry Portnof: Hello. Yes. It is. Before I had the label, I had an affinity for records and who make them, so I went to many different places to do just that, and quickly discovered how old every plant’s machines are, and how labor intensive the process is. All the machines have their own quirks, pluses and minuses, yet it just so happens that a place in North Jersey, was the most responsive, and let me keep showing up. After a while they had me pouring wax. Eventually, the staff left me alone to experiment. I enjoyed the freedom and the constraints. I continued to learn and once I liked I certain look, I attempted to do a 100 similar copies, resulting in a version of something. In this way, I make my own thing. I don’t own a plant or a press though. I just have a passion, and I became friendly with people who do have the equipment. A lot of folk ask if I can make their records and they’ll pay me, but it doesn’t work like that. When it’s “Greenway Day” at the plant, I’m lucky enough to show up and hand pour my projects only. It’s also my way of being creative. I’m adding to the physical experience of the music. My artistic contribution to the form.
Do you have complete creative control over a band’s presentation if they release on Greenway? 
HP: I like to have a cohesive package, but the bands present the overall art concept, and the music itself has influence over the look. Usually bands who sign-up for doing it the “Greenway way” or whatever, understand there will be two versions: the limited release, which is me creating an in-the-moment color pattern, and a “normal-ish” version, that is more innate with whatever the album art is.
Cool. So what prompted you to do all this? I understand at the time you started, the vinyl craze was not at the height it is now.
HP: Well, collecting records. I’m infatuated by vinyl itself. I worked in accounting for years, but before leaving that job, I always found myself searching on Discogs for some rare record that could be waiting for me at home. At the same time, I grew-up in Long Island, and my friends and I would throw parties with live bands playing surf-rock, etc, and I had the idea: “Hey, my friends write great songs. I’ll ask them for two and see if I can make some weird, colorful 7″, something I’d like to own.” So, I did this with the band, The Young Rachels. I then started calling all the plants. Some hung-up, others enjoyed talking, and some invited me in, as I stated before. I also wanted to create a brand or I should say, a conceptual art label. This turned people on, and things began to pick-up steam when I got to do the Brooklyn group, Scully‘s release.
So you believe vinyl will not fade in influence, but the popularity will remain intact, even grow as an industry?
HP: It’s here to stay. Vinyl is only increasing in popularity. I hang around record plants, and they can hardly keep up. It’s crazy now. A few years ago many pressing owners felt it was a fad, but a year later, it’s booming.
     I love to hold a vinyl. I love the sound, the look of the sleeve’s art, the feel of the entire thing. It’s an experience. One doesn’t get this digitally. I trust people want soulful, physical, connection. Everything is fleeting, but when someone comes to a show, picks up a record, it’s now theirs, it exists. It’s then in their space everyday and becomes a part of who they are.
Well said. I’m assuming this belief is why you continue to put out 7″ singles? I know this is a difficult format to market, however great they are. I’m also assuming you release them for passion over profit?
HP: For sure. I continue to press 7″s because of the B side. To me, it’s one of the most beautiful things in music. This piece that can only be listened to on a specific release. Sometimes the B side is my favorite song, and never reaches any LP. Those are the best. I’ll buy three copies of rare singles because I’m crazy, and want one to play, one to store, and one to gift. I love this idea of a song that has to be searched for. I’ll only release a 7″ this way. It keeps the beauty of the format alive. I also love the classic look. The 7″ wax I make are unique because I can push the envelope of what I do, as far as color combinations. By making these limited pieces, it sparks interest, and may inspire people to listen to a new band. So many listeners stick to what they “know.” By creating unusual art pieces paired with cool music, it may expose listeners to artists who are making great new music, but don’t have mainstream exposure. You’re not going to pay rent with a single release, but it exists, that’s what is important to me…that the vinyl exists.
Final question: Life after death, any thoughts?
HP: I just wanna live.
/Currently listening to: Los Rosas. Jane Church. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard. Fruit Tones. Frankie and the Witch Fingers. Acid Dad. You know, Greenway/…
When I arrive back to my apartment, I put on Spectrum‘s, “Highs Lows & Heavenly Blows,” sounds relaxed and hip. Soothes my mind. I purchased it at the WFMU Record Fair, and it makes me happy. A bunch of people simply coming together for the love of an art form, nothing more, really.
     So what has this all meant in regards to this vinyl anniversary? Well, groovies, I know I love music. I love it’s followers. Dreamers and thinkers. Victims and champions of nights, harsh winds, days of melodies, spinning blood, orchid dust. I enjoy a vinyl record. They sound fantastic. Pictures are a nice size. Time well spent. If they go, my only other resort will be listening to live beasts, humming fires, but hell, Lester wrote it best:
” Each (great record) fried my brain a little further, especially the experience of the first few listens to a record so total, so mind-twisting, that you authentically can say you’ll never be quite the same again, and the whole purpose of the absurd mechanically persistent involvement with recorded music is the pursuit of that priceless moment. So it’s not exactly that records might unhinge the mind, but rather that if anything is going to drive you up the wall, it might as well be a record.”
     The dead speak. We’re not yet. Are we? Let’s crank-up the tunes and dance into eternity, why not? Like the sky turning purple through the lenses of red shades, these lacquer disks help make life more tolerable. Don’t they? Dig.

Alt Citizen Review

A DRAG REVIEW : “Put your lips on my brain” – Of Tim Presley’s White Fence, ‘I Have to Feed Larry’s Hawk’

Is a tepid serum here? Or – Is fine, thoughtful music being made in 2019? In this moment of probable human rot, the fruits are ripe and abound on Tim Presley’s farm. It’s not Syd Barrett’s cough either. In fact, this wax is something to stay home for. Relax, pour a drink, roll a smoke, take a moment for yourself. Indulge in clunky piano, a random floor tom – not so random as you initially believed. This lp requires a few listens. On the same arm as David Bowie’s “Low” (this album is in two parts, with ambient synths showing the listener to the door.)

 It is exciting when the stop sign of sound finds itself on your street. Nice colors. This last happened on my block during, Brian Jonestown Massacre’s “Pish” – though, this album is not that. It’s an album Paul McCartney should have made blindfolded leaning onto Question Mark’s red, compact organ, but he’s at a beach on Long Island.
Wait…Look! … Tim’s hair!
Next to that White Fence – quite interesting- those bangs.
I.H.T.F.L.H. from the ever curious, Drag City label, should be purchased without hesitation. Money doesn’t come easy – so what? Check this music out. Hell, these ideas come comfortable. Presley’s played with Ty Segall, The Fall, and I’d rather this. These new tracks (I perceive) exhibit a recent rise of musical mushrooms growing in the World today. Pick and eat them – you should go out more.
     Well, this isn’t a commercial, it’s a gasp – so – take out your earphones, your dusty 12-string, your Uncle’s Farfisa – it’ll be fun, groovies, while we plummet into oblivion, dressed with amazing make-up and embellished flares. Listen to the pauses – tones – they’re all here now – waiting – and you can get it.