There and then I decided to make amends and resolved to up my mother fucking game for 2013. True to my word I purchased approximately 50 LPs in the first two months of 2013, all with beautiful sleeves, all from the last couple of years and all on really wanky beard stroking labels like Blackest Ever Black. Honestly I've listened to maybe three of them, mainly because I am spending every waking non working hour attempting to get the house to some kind of normal. This means it's a case of painting avec iPod rather than exploring any new interesting looking vinyl based acquisitions.
One of the few that I have taken time to sit through is the above. Black Eagle Child came to my attention courtesy of the lovely Under The Spire label, he's a one man band (not the cymbals strapped to the knees and kazoo in mouth kind) with a knack for producing intricate and beautiful guitar based music. He has a name that reminds me of Eagle Eye Cherry which is a shame as catchy as 'Save Tonight' was it's not exactly relevant to the field ploughed by Mr Child.
So what exactly is said field like if it's not chock full of the radio pop hit(s) synonymous with Don Cherry's youngest? Ry Cooder comes to mind, as does the stripped down guitar work of Mazzy Star's David Roback. It's nice, there's a lot of space, it feels breezy and sinister at the same time. It's good out doors music.
And what of Donato Epiro's side? Who knows, my understanding is that it's in a similar vein but it could well be 2014 before I get the time to find out.
I didn't want this to turn into an essay on the futility of hoarding vinyl but the above hardly seems like a sensible way of consuming music. I am not sure whether I am fuelled by one-upmanship, a primal need to hunt and gather or if it's to do with penis size. My actions could well be influenced by the clever marketing tactics of the likes of Boomkat who have (and all credit to them here) successfully fetishised vinyl to an entirely new level with anal linear notes, sound bites and sleeves that comfortably fall into the 'design porn' category. Add to that the fiendishly limited pressings of much of this fayre and you have a perfect storm: Circumstances that have you buying an album because a member of Barn Owl played on it or because the sleeve reminds you of the successfully sinister fluxus heyday of some right-wing freak folk collective.
Predictably I digress. This is a good album and if even half of that 'inbox' pile that I now have to go through is of this calibre then perhaps my financially damaging new years resolution was not such a bad thing after all.