Kendra Steiner Editions

March 17, 2013

April 17, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 4:35 pm

KSE pics, dallas 2011 084

April 16, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 4:33 pm

KSE pics, dallas 2011 078

April 15, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 4:30 pm

KSE pics, dallas 2011 023

March 10, 2013

new album “Return: The Journey” (KSE #251) from Boston trumpeter-composer Forbes Graham

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 6:23 pm

FORBES  GRAHAM

“Return: The Journey” (KSE #251, cdr album)

$8 US/ $10 elsewhere, postpaid

payment via paypal to django5722(at)yahoo(dot)com     please include note indicating what items you are ordering

the new album from the acclaimed Boston trumpeter-composer

FORBES cover

Although I had seen his name in print before, Boston-based trumpeter-composer Forbes Graham’s music first entered my world with the stunning 2010 album ESSENCES, a series of duets with percussionist Tatsuya Nakatani, seven tracks recorded in 2008, each inspired by a particular scent, or “essence.’ Graham’s jaw-dropping mastery of extended techniques, his repertoire of textures, his rich conception of sound-in-space….I was blown away, and the album was high on my best of the year list for 2010. I sent that list to Mr. Graham, and as I wanted to hear more of his work and to share that work far and wide, I invited him to record a new album for CDR release on Kendra Steiner Editions…..he graciously accepted, and the result is RETURN: THE JOURNEY (KSE #251)

forbes album

RETURN: THE JOURNEY is an almost-hour-long excursion through different terrains in each of the eight tracks. As the album begins, we’re taken into some anonymous space with distant coughs and creaks and footsteps and speech just beyond our reach, but that pulls us into the space, making it quite specific, and while this is happening abstract smears of heartbeat-funk electronics and crinkling percussion provide the listener with a sense of the life force present in whatever space we inhabit. Track two brings Forbes’ trumpet into the scene, darting and querying and engaging in a dance with the electronics (all sounds by Mr. Graham, by the way), and each track after that takes us into another new territory in sound. There is deep African soil mixed into snippets of contemporary  intellectual-speak and sci-fi travels into into the cosmos…in some ways, this is the perfect updating of those areas investigated by Sun Ra and Don Cherry in the previous century. And Graham’s trumpet is a traveler on this journey, along with the listener. You’ll hear echoes of players as diverse as cornetist/trumpeter Tricky Sam Nanton, of the early Ellington years, to the pure-sound explorations through extended techniques of trombonist Albert Mangelsdorff. However, it’s fair to say that the album highlights Graham the composer and painter-in-sound, as opposed to being an instrumental blowout.

A writer is never supposed to say that “this album seems longer than it is,” but this one DOES in the sense that you lose all sense of time. It may clock in at around an hour, but the depth of the material and the breadth of the journey are such that I could have just spent an afternoon with the album. Near the album’s close, on the track “Walkthrough: National Portrait Gallery” we are once again knee-deep in site-specific environmental sound, as if we are “touching down” again on the ground before taking off again on the final track with “Black Starships Executing Spacefold Operations.”

Forbes Graham has delivered us a fascinating album that really cannot be put comfortably into any genre. The man’s compositional skill sits alongside his instrumental skills and spontaneity, and the found-materials of contemporary life, which act as a kind of seasoning and thickener in this 21st Century gumbo. And there’s always that hint of abstract funk in the background, almost like a trace element in a homeopathic mixture–more of an echo than a physical presence.

Listeners who appreciate modern composition, field recordings, free-improv, and audio collage will find RETURN: THE JOURNEY a fascinating trip, one that they will return to often.  Forbes Graham is working in his own unique territory here—I can’t think of anyone who combines elements the way he does. It will be exciting to hear the new directions he’ll venture into on his next album…and the one after that…

I usually don’t quote the artist’s verbatim statements on the music unless s/he requests it, but Graham’s comments on this album are so clear that they can only be weakened by paraphrase, so I’m going to quote in full his take on the album: “Returning is the process of traveling to a destination that represents sincerity, humility, and quiet dignity. Therefore, my task is to produce music and sound that as honestly represents my feelings and thoughts as possible. The travel is that exploration through different fields, ideas, and genres within the framework of some sort of overarching idea.    Whatever I do, in my own way, I try to keep it funky, which is probably most notable on a track like “We Got It”. But the whole album drips with a feeling of sci-fi future funk. It never can hurt to be funky, and sometimes we need the release and escape of imagining fantastical other worlds.”

forbes

Forbes Graham is a trumpet player, composer, and electronic musician based in Boston. He has performed and or recorded across North America and Europe with David Gross, Rakalam Bob Moses, Joe Morris, Luther Gray, Jim Hobbs, Raqib Hassan, Syd Smart, Birgit Ulher, Leonel Kaplan, Jack Wright, Tatsuya Nakatani, Daniel Levin, Ras Moshe, Laurence Cook, Jacob William, Cooper-Moore, Darius Jones, Sabir Mateen, Pandelis Karayorgis, Kevin Frenette and many more wonderful artists.

 ——————————————————————————————————–

Selected FG discography

Interdimensional Science Research Orchestra – Suns of Ra

Forbes Graham – I Won’t Stop

Weasel Walter/Paul Flaherty/Greg Kelley/Forbes Graham – End of the Trail

Weasel Walter/Marc Edwards Group – Blood of the Earth

Tatsuya Nakatani & Forbes Graham – Essences

Construction Party – Instruments of Change

forbes 2

while ordering Forbes Graham’s new album, why not pick up more independent, original, and spellbinding  experimental music that you cannot get elsewhere:

KSE #243 (CDR), VENISON WHIRLED (Lisa Cameron), “The Many Moods of Venison Whirled”

KSE #255 (CDR),  ERNESTO DIAZ-INFANTE / LISA CAMERON / LEE DOCKERY, Live at the KSE 6th Anniversary Concert

KSE #239 (CDR),  FOSSILS, “Bells and Gulls,” 

KSE #254 (CDR), D J I N   A Q U A R I A N ,  SIR  PLASTIC   CRIMEWAVE   &  THE   HEREAFTER   

KSE #235 (CDR),  BOOK OF SHADOWS, “Chimaera”

KSE #206  (CDR), ERNESTO DIAZ-INFANTE, “Emilio “

KSE #222 (CDR), MASSIMO MAGEE, “Sopranino Solo, “ cover art by MP Landis.

KSE #220 (CDR),  MATT KREFTING, “Sweet Days of Discipline”

KSE #247 (CDR), MARCUS RUBIO & BILL SHUTE, “Only The Imprint Of An Echo Remains” (poetry and electronic music album, recorded in San Antonio, TX)

KSE #237 (CDR), MICHAEL BARRETT & MIKE GRIFFIN, ““Birtual Seme-Alabak” (aka Belltonesuicide and Parashi)

KSE #228 (CDR), UNMOOR, “Night Driver”

KSE #226 (CDR), DEREK ROGERS, “Born Into Systems”

KSE #208 (CDR), ANTHONY GUERRA & BILL SHUTE, “subtraction” (limited USA re-press of CD originally issued on Black Petal Records, Australia)

KSE #214 (CDR), SABRINA SIEGEL,”Bottlecaps” 

KSE #238 (CDR), DANIEL HIPOLITO/EVA KELLY/BILL SHUTE, “Fascination”

ALL LIMITED HAND-ASSEMBLED, HAND-NUMBERED HOMEMADE DIY EDITIONS WITH VARYING COVER STOCKS AND INKS, MADE IN TEXAS

$8 each US postpaid/$10 elsewhere for first CDR, $8 each after the first…

payment via paypal to django5722(at)yahoo(dot)com        please include a note listing which items you are ordering…

COMING SOON:

APRIL-MAY 2013…SPRILLS OF ORE (Eva Kelly)

JUNE-JULY 2013ALFRED 23 HARTH, Micro-Saxo-Phone: 4

………………..

Traces (from Hours Past Sunset)

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 6:22 pm

KSE 2013 four

                              TRACES

 

                  the  assembled  singers,      shimmering

                                          but   set  to a moderate heat,

                              layered on risers   

                                                  and flanked        by baffles,

                                     wordlessly            in – ton – ing

 

                                                     color     and     shade

                                                            and   blend

                                                                      and  balance

 

                                 but as humidity

                                        they  cannot    be seen,

                                                   only felt

 

                                              freshly blown sand

                                                   across  recent  footsteps

                                                somewhere      between

                                                     Artesia  and  Alamogordo

      

 

           over  an  image    sharp and deep

                           we  place       a sheet

                                                       of  tracing  paper

 

                                            stubby, nail-bitten  fingers

                                                       trying to hold

                                                                  it           in  place

            the other hand

                   taking a pencil             and copying

                        the    general   line

                      not worrying

              about  detail

           or  precision

 

leaving it all

 

            to  texture

                     and   accident

Don’t Look Back

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 6:22 pm

           

lubbock 010

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

D  O  N  ‘  T      L  O  O  K      B  A  C  K

 

                                            I

 

two          lean            sixty-watt  bulbs

 

              separate,  unadorned  by  bases or covers

 

      hang  about  a  foot  from  the  textured ceiling

 

 (christened with the contents of exploded Coke cans   

                 and  rusty water

                           from  unrepaired  roof leaks)

 

    of  the Live Oak Washateria    .    the street outside

 

       deserted   

                               save for a few nightshift workers,

 

   expired  inspection stickers on their pea-soup

                   green        used cars                         or

 

  those   driving  home  alone  from the last call,

          trying   , slowly,    to stay within those weaving

                 yellow stripes

 

                           three of the seven washers

                           sit, broken, half-full of dark water

                           sour-stinking,   clouded,   they’d be

                           attracting mosquitoes  if any   rain

                           had fallen     in the last ten weeks

 

          not enough light to tell

      if  the  clothes  are clean

 

                                              as  intended

 

                   a quick cigarette (while

                   sitting outside Marie’s Ethnic Hair Care

                   next door)          fills   me   with

                         nicotine     courage  and  animation

 

while  my  security-guard uniform  and  underwear

         and  socks   and  two towels

                 tumble  halfway-dry .

 

       leaning    forward   to  read  the headlines on

                 yesterday’s  Express-News  through

                         the caged front of the bottle-green

                               newspaper  machine:

 

Bush vetoes child health insurance plan

*

Mayors along Texas-Mexico border protest

proposed border wall

 

 

             the  uniform must be kept clean

 

                    protecting  someone else’s   property

 

                           the lawns mowed

                                    transients shooed away

                              hedges manicured

                     soda-straws and Doral filters removed

                          from the parking lot

 

back inside among the laundry,       talk-radio

      bangs  the  drum      slowly   and   surely, 

              in heartbeat-like measure ,  preparing us

 

    for the next overseas  invasion      and occupation

 

             create  enough  of  an  internal  storm,

         and we’ll  shoot  out    the  mirror  ,

  blissfully unaware        sinking  into  grotesquerie ,

       while  FoxNews  tells us 

              we’re the fairest of them all

 

                              

                                       II

 

this  San Antonio  crockpot 

                                            three-quarters  full :

 

      a  stew  of    whispers   and    gestures

 

                   of    details      and    textures

 

                   of    weeds       and    warehouses

 

                   of    haircuts   and    hemmed jeans

 

                   of    chlorine   and    ash

 

 

 

         the pre-sunrise remnant,             family–

            heirs               not  of  this  rounded world,

        smothering as it sands off our rough edges

             into sameness.

                       No–     heirs  elevated  into

                                            the  fullness  of  time

 

 

                               III

  

                       the furniture     loosens

               the  body  struggles

       the  mind’s  wiring  frays

 

       arms and legs  flailing away

               against the river

                       rising to reclaim its own

 

 

                                  the web    unravels

                                             into        lines

                                                     of  a  curvature

 

                                                     so  subtle

                                             as  to   be

                                  unnoticed

 

***

 

outside   again

 

towels  still                  not  dry

 

***

 

arrangement                                               alignment

 

spilled   Budweiser

(beechwood, rice, and gravel)

 

 

echo   of an echo      of

a  train’s  horn,

falling   tonal   contours

east  of  town

 

 

moths   scurrying  in  space,

feather-stepping   in  time,

 

artificial light         distracting them

from  night-blooming  flowers

and  pollination

 

 

bending   headlights  and muffled

car stereos       as  4 a.m.   

employees  arrive at

Taqueria Jalisco #3

two  doors  down

 

 

clicking and droning of

air-conditioners cycling

on and off

from all directions

through  the  night

 

 

pure experience     translated

                             from   sensation

                                              into words,

                             dubbed into English,

                             the  line-readings

               not matching  the lip movements

         or  the  gestures 

   or  the   facial  expressions

 

 

another  one  in     the sea of faces,

neither   unjust  nor  courageous,

back for another round            another shift

another  walk        on either side of the third rail

another   danse macabre      around the void

with a  glorious     pasted-on      sh*t-eating  grin

houston trip, late august 2010 021

The Gun-Metal Moon, Regal

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 6:20 pm

kendra and dad in cibolo, eric's birthday, august 2010 021

 T H E    G U N – M E T A L    M O O N ,   R E G A L

kendra and dad in cibolo, eric's birthday, august 2010 013

streetlights     dim

                               city       budget cuts

 

                           an overfed

                               ivory   cat

                                      stiffens   and

                                           arches   its

                                                 back      at

                                               the crest      of

                                                       a     dry         brittle

                                                                 lawn

                                                    as  my  dog   &  i

                                                        pass

 

 

 

                                         sharper  than ever,

                                                   focused,

 

                                            planted amidst

                                                     rows  of clouds

                                    

                                               like  strips of

                                                  streaky  cotton  bacon,

 

                                                        the  gun-metal  moon,

                                                                 regal,

                                                                               stands

 

                                                         a  symbol

                                                   of   all        we  cannot

                                               grasp

                                       or    touch

                                 or   even     approach

kendra and dad in cibolo, eric's birthday, august 2010 014

 

                   oak leaves

                             blown       into  murky

                                                          arkadian   streams

 

                                                                      weighted-down

                                                              slow –        

                                                                            fall

 

 

                                              eventually

                                                   suspended,  unknowing,

                                       in  the  sediment

 

 

 

                              no entries in

                                 the checkbook

                                       for the last   twelve

                                                purchases

                                            afraid  of  what

                                                      the  balance  might

                                                                      be

 

 

                              stubborn,     we

                                             seize  and  inspect

                                                     fabulous  shadows

                                                               talking them up

                                                           running them down

 

 

 

                                        storms from the east,

                                                                                  pass  by !!

          

kendra and dad in cibolo, eric's birthday, august 2010 016

squirrels  walk  the perimeter

                                       fences

 

                           car salesmen   and   grocery-store

                                    shelf-stockers

 

                                  have  one  more   brewski

                                           before the game,

                                                            whatever  game

 

 

                                   someone  in  a garage

                                            on  the other-side of

                                                    the  alley,    of   the

                                                             kudzu  curtain

 

                                             about  a  block

                                                   away

 

                                      wrestles  with  the

                                           basslines  of

                                           obsolescent  Wire  and

                                                  Buzzcocks   and

                                                      Thee Fourgiven  tunes

 

                                                 but  with  time       and

                                                      with    perspective

                                                          he’ll    master  them

                                                           and transcend them

                                                       and  lock  arms

                                                  with  comrades  past

                                               and  future

 

                              before        once  again           losing

                          himself                and   finding

                     balance

              in     the   crowd

kendra and dad in cibolo, eric's birthday, august 2010 018

running

                   away  from

 

                                         the alert

                                           blindness

 

                                                 of  dreams

 

 

                                                 neither

                                                 casual

                                                      nor  gracious

 

 

                                                    watching  ourselves

                                                        functioning

 

                                                    as imposters

 

                                              skulking

                                     around corners

                                  and  down

                         dampened  hallways

 

 

                                                  in some alternate

                                              place  of  sweet ’n’ sour

                                                               greys

 

 

                         valet-parking

                               the cars of

                                        republican felons

 

                                in  a  world

                            we   never

                                     made

kendra and dad in cibolo, eric's birthday, august 2010 020

gasoline-powered

 

                    men  in  sports-

                           logo    t-shirts

                                  blow  leaves

 

                                  from  their

                           front  lawns

                      into the gutter

 

 

             before  the mail arrives

 

 

                                              on  saturday  afternoon

                                              in  south  texas

                                              between the interstate

                                              and the air-force base

 

 

 

                        don’t  you

                                  leaves  dare

                                      decompose on

                                              MY  lawn,

                                       they  declare

                                  to  themselves

                             with   a   sense

 

 

                             of  accomplishment

 

 

                                         if you’re   in the gutter

                                                you’re  no longer     MY

                                                        responsibility

                                  

kendra and dad in cibolo, eric's birthday, august 2010 022

Sequence Blue

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 5:54 pm

S E Q U E N C E    B L U E

————————————————————————————————————————–

The storm

fells the power lines

blackens the valley–

when the dogs and the ducks

become silent   I’ll worry

KSE  painting

Teenage moms in knit caps

their toddlers in snowsuits

using military-green plastic

garbage-can lids as sleds

down the knoll onto the ice

KSE  painting 2

Looking like tanks

state highway trucks

will eventually sand and salt

the icy back roads

that connect when thawed

KSE  painting 3

Sore throat

slowing the pace

injured-wing sparrow

weighted down

with mud

KSE  painting 4

Snow

scraping the

dead skin

off of

yesterday’s heels

KSE  painting 5

An unnamed dog trots

along the unlit shoulder

of the county road

as if he’s got places

to go and things to do

March 2, 2013

“new” poetry chapbook, THROWAWAY B-SIDE (KSE #252), from Bill Shute

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 5:34 pm

THROWAWAY  B-SIDE 

Bill  Shute

KSE #252, poetry chapbook

$5.00  ppd.  anywhere ……. payment via paypal to  django5722(at)yahoo(dot)com

throwaway

As some of you know, I am working on a book (with Rob Craig) about the films of Jerry Warren. Watching his films multiple times, then for the “patchwork” films watching both the films from which footage was taken AND Warren’s assemblages of both that original footage and his newly-shot footage, one begins to enter the strange somewhat off-kilter world of Warren’s films, and if you are a creator of artistic “product” yourself,  you being thinking like Jerry Warren.

sticky-sticky-kama-sutra(note: the ultimate throwaway b-side, Sticky Sticky…so cynical it’s sublime)

Francis Coppola inhabits the world of Orson Welles and creates Rumblefish.  Steven Soderbergh inhabits the world of Alfred Hitchcock and creates Side Effects. Alas, I inhabit the world of Jerry Warren and create THROWAWAY B-SIDE (KSE #252).

kim-fowley-you-get-more-for-your-money-on-the-flipside-of-this-record-talking-blues-cbs

In the proud and shameless tradition of THE PILL, CONFESSIONS OF A VICE BARON, and CURSE OF THE STONE HAND…I present to you…THROWAWAY B-SIDE (KSE #252)…the “new” poetry chapbook from Bill Shute.…somewhere between broken arms and broken hearts…

pill

confessions of a vice baron

curse_of_stone_hand_poster_01

Flip Side.0

….Kendra Steiner Editions, “happy to be a part of the industry of human happiness”….andy letter….

March 1, 2013

DJIN AQUARIAN & SIR PLASTIC CRIMEWAVE & THE EVERAFTER (KSE #254), live album available now!

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 4:45 pm

D J I N   A Q U A R I A N ,  S I R  P L A S T I C   C R I M E  W A V E   &  T H E   H E R E A F T E R   (KSE #254)

Live CDR album, recorded at the Hemlock, San Francisco, 9  October 2011

$8 US postpaid/$11 elsewhere postpaid, payment via   paypal to    django5722(at)yahoo(dot)com

limited, hand-numbered, hand-cut DIY edition of 160 copies in varying ink/paper color combinations….

when they’re gone, they’re gone…

djinpcwSF2

KSE is proud to bring you a raw 40-minute live performance from two of the greats of higher-key psychedelia: from the West Coast, the legendary DJIN AQUARIAN of Ya Ho Wha 13 and the Source Family, and from Chicago, the legendary Sir Plastic Crimewave, with a killer organic rhythm section. Sounding like some non-existent Skydog boot of Ya Ho Wha in their prime (minus Father Yod, of course, though his spirit is certainly in every note), this is music as  spiritual practice and ritual. You can’t fake or pre-plan this kind of music. You have to get into that zone, that sacred space, and explore. It grows, slowly, it evolves, it sinks roots and extends its branches, it pulls you in and gets all over you until you are one with the music. In some ways, this is the purest kind of psychedelic music, and it’s great to say that this new album has the same dense organic tribal sound as the Aquarian/PCW duo album on Prophase, but this has the added benefit of being ABSOLUTELY LIVE,  with the audience sounds and distortion that only a live performance can deliver. Again, this is an archival recording made on non-professional equipment, but so was METALLIC KO…

djin pcw everafter r6I was privileged to see the re-formed Ya Ho Wha 13 in concert in Austin a few years ago (my pic of Djin is below), and it was the ultimate lift-the-bandstand higherkey psych jam, and I grew up listening often to a cassette of their 1974 classic PENETRATION that a friend who was fortunate enough to own a copy made for me, so KSE is honored to keep the circle unbroken and present you ANOTHER album in that great tradition of spiritual travel through cosmic music…

austin 011

while ordering KSE #254, why not pick up more mind-bending experimental music that you cannot get elsewhere:

KSE #255 (CDR),  ERNESTO DIAZ-INFANTE / LISA CAMERON / LEE DOCKERY, Live at the KSE 6th Anniversary Concert

KSE #239 (CDR),  FOSSILS, “Bells and Gulls,” 

KSE #251 (CDR),  FORBES GRAHAM, “Return: The Journey”

KSE #235 (CDR),  BOOK OF SHADOWS, “Chimaera”

KSE #206  (CDR), ERNESTO DIAZ-INFANTE, “Emilio “

KSE #222 (CDR), MASSIMO MAGEE, “Sopranino Solo, “ cover art by MP Landis.

KSE #220 (CDR),  MATT KREFTING, “Sweet Days of Discipline”

KSE #247 (CDR), MARCUS RUBIO & BILL SHUTE, “Only The Imprint Of An Echo Remains” (poetry and electronic music album, recorded in San Antonio, TX)

KSE #237 (CDR), MICHAEL BARRETT & MIKE GRIFFIN, ““Birtual Seme-Alabak” (aka Belltonesuicide and Parashi)

KSE #228 (CDR), UNMOOR, “Night Driver”

KSE #226 (CDR), DEREK ROGERS, “Born Into Systems”

KSE #208 (CDR), ANTHONY GUERRA & BILL SHUTE, “subtraction” (limited USA re-press of CD originally issued on Black Petal Records, Australia)

KSE #214 (CDR), SABRINA SIEGEL,”Bottlecaps” 

KSE #238 (CDR), DANIEL HIPOLITO/EVA KELLY/BILL SHUTE, “Fascination”

ALL LIMITED HAND-ASSEMBLED, HAND-NUMBERED HOMEMADE DIY EDITIONS WITH VARYING COVER STOCKS AND INKS, MADE IN TEXAS

$8 each US postpaid/$11 elsewhere for first CDR, $8 each after the first…

payment via paypal to django5722(at)yahoo(dot)com        please include a note listing which items you are ordering…

COMING SOON:

MARCH-APRIL 2013…The Many Moods of VENISON WHIRLED (aka Lisa Cameron)

APRIL-MAY 2013…SPRILLS OF ORE (Eva Kelly)

JUNE-JULY 2013ALFRED 23 HARTH, Micro-Saxo-Phone: 4

djin

the already-a-classic 2012 album from DJIN AQUARIAN and PLASTIC CRIMEWAVE SOUND on Prophase…

djin cassette

…Djin and Steven “Plastic Crimewave” Krakow also released a cassette (long out of print), seen above

ya ho

PENETRATION: AN AQUARIAN SYMPHONY, the 1974 LP by Ya Ho Wa 13 that introduced me (and many others) to DJIN AQUARIAN’s  guitar work…it remains today THE touchstone of higher-key tribal psych…

piano-copy

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