It’s time to wrap up this week of navel gazing and finish reminiscing on the time I moved from New Jersey to Los Angeles. It was seven years ago, after all, and not quite worthy of all this hoopla. It’s not as if I’ve accomplished much since I arrived here. Jobs, girlfriends, a couple moments of excitement, a bunch of fun trips to Vegas, but other than that I haven’t really succeeded at anything once I decided I’d stick with it and remain here following that first six-month sublet. Don’t get me wrong there’s a lot I can look back on and smile about, but as a whole I don’t really think the past seven years have panned out as I intended. It’s just like I tell myself each Cinco de Mayo, when I stop and thinking, “Oh wow, it’s been another year.” Maybe next year something big will happen.
Alas, back in 2007 I was a fresh-faced 24 year old whose whole life lay ahead of him. I was single, I was unemployed, and I had a high tolerance for alcohol. I still recall showing up to the first night of the Bottling Smoke Festival with a black plastic bag from Liquor Royale on the corner of Sunset and Laveta (where I lived at the time) holding my $3.50 bottle of Andrè Strawberry Champagne. I would drink a lot of strawberry champagne in those days because I thought it made me look like someone who just didn’t give a fuck when he was in public and all the other scenester kids were drinking PBR or Tecate or taking pulls from a shared handle of Jack. I think that’s why John Twells offered me that Duvel during the first set on the first night of the festival at Echo Curio. Maybe he felt bad for me. “No thanks dude, I’m cool” I probably said, as I lifted this fucking thing to my lips.
Oh, man. I was such an asshole.
I mentioned yesterday talking with Jefre Cantu at Mr. T’s Bowl on the second night of the festival. He had some Root Strata merch with him and as I perused his offerings he gifted me a copy of Stone Academy by Zelienople. We gushed about those guys for a couple minutes and then I asked if the label had any other artists similar to Zelienople. He pulled out this extremely fragile-looking black and white patterned sleeve and handed it to me. He told me they’d only made 300 copies of the record, but I should take it home with me and listen to it. I flipped it over, and saw the artist was Grouper, and the title of the record was Cover The Windows And The Walls.
This friendly conversation and recommendation started what would very, very quickly spiral into my downright obsession with all things Liz Harris (aka Grouper). I raced to Amoeba a few days later to buy up everything else I could find and started tracking Aquarius Records, eBay, Liz’s own Yellow Electric website to scoop up everything I could find. I own pretty much her entire vinyl catalog with the exception of Way Their Crept, which I passed on twice at Amoeba and haven’t seen in the seven years since Jefre turned me onto her. I’ve got all her dumb 7″ 45s even though I hate the format and try desperately to keep my collection to a single box. She, along with Harvey Milk, White Hills, and Spacemen 3/Spiritualized, are pretty much the only three artists whose complete catalogs I strive to own. And you can cross White Hills off that list because they just have too many fucking releases for me to keep up with them all anymore. Speaking of which if anyone needs any of those EARLY White Hills CDrs by all means let me know, I have no use for them anymore. I’ll keep the vinyl but I definitely don’t need the other formats.
Ahem. Sorry, this isn’t about me complaining when bands are too prolific. This is about giving love to Liz Harris. Before Chelsea Wolfe, before Lucinda Chua, before Christina Vantzou, before any of those Swan Fungus “crush(es) of the moment”, there was Liz Harris. She’s…she’s so incredible.
Root Strata’s website describes it as, “‘…the first vinyl only release by Portland resident Liz Harris under her Grouper moniker. Slightly shedding back the layers of billowing twilight distortion and murmur, these songs reveal more of the acoustic guitar & vocal core that has always been at the center of Grouper’s tape hiss blues. This record is a stunning document of shimmering dream melodies that feel a lot more like ancient rituals rather than songs. Playing to her strengths, Liz has created her most arresting material to date. “Lost in a Dreamworld, West Coast Natural.”
I love this fucking album.
Grouper
Cover The Windows And The Walls
(Root Strata – RS47, 2007)
A1. Cover The Windows And The Walls
A2. Opened Space
A3. Down To The Ocean
B1. Heart Current
B2. It Feels Alright
B3. You Never Came [MP3]
B4. Follow In Our Dreams
