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But it’s just as fun to picture the Can, Blue Cheer, and Grateful Dead songs that probably reached their headphones and car stereos at a similar time in Tokyo and Rockford, Illinois, years and years ago, setting the crash course into Steven Arroyo.pitchfork.~ It’s nice enough to imagine yourself at the scene of two touring-calloused psych bands from opposite sides of the globe colliding on a third continent and immediately having a long, advanced conversation in a shared language. You savor the brief chemistry, and then part ways, remembering it fondly.Ībove all, Deep Fried Grandeur is just a joy to visualize. Deep Fried Grandeur has a certain shelf life, but then again, the spirit of its origins was all about bright, short-lived sparks. The shifts are gradual, never on a dime, and the ride doesn’t toy with your memory by returning to melodic motifs after long, digressive stretches. It’s more like hopping in their backseat while they cruise through some hilly countryside roads that nobody knows intimately well, but aren’t brutally tough to navigate. What Deep Fried Grandeur doesn’t have is that back-pocket compass of the best semi-rehearsed, semi-improvised jams, the kind where you have no idea where it’s headed but still give yourself over to it. It’s still a faithful document, and it sounds better trimmed and toned. The pile of sounds from these nine musicians were touched up for the album by Cooper Crain of Bitchin Bajas and CAVE, and comparing the final version to a bootleg of the actual performance reveals modest but shrewd edits: a guitar effect is enhanced here, a transitory section shortened there. Ryu Kurosawa’s scorpion-like sitar pierces the quiet, but soon it takes off sprinting into a wide-open field, flipping into a major-key. In the first half of part two, “Shrinks the Day,” the scenery changes dramatically around a hoedown pulse. With only one afternoon to rehearse, the two bands hit the stage and hit it off.ĭeep Fried Grandeur, split into two halves for vinyl purposes but really a product of about five independent movements, is an instrumental, krautrock-ish noodle journey that spans the spectrum from tactile texture-crafting to supercharged drives.
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Walker’s Deafman Glance and Kikagaku Moyo’s Masana Temples, both released earlier that year, shared similar cycles of gentle dis- and re-orientation, a sense of constantly interrupted traction, like getting lost in a huge cavernous art museum and passing through vastly different soft-lit rooms while repeatedly finding and losing the exit route. The organizers had asked Walker to choose another artist for a one-time jam, and his pick was no head-scratcher. The album, a live collaboration between Walker’s four-piece band and the Japanese psych-prog quintet Kikagaku Moyo, documents their set from the music festival Le Guess Who? in Utrecht, the Netherlands, in 2018 the album’s title is how they appeared on the festival’s bill. Was it really just for kicks? Or is Walker deflecting, setting a low bar to relieve some pressure before releasing honest and vulnerable music out into the world? He has blurred that line before.Įither way, Walker’s having the last laugh with Deep Fried Grandeur, which was released on Husky Pants after multiple labels passed on it the record recently hit No.
#Ryley walker deep fried grandeur series
In 2019, Walker launched Husky Pants Records, a “joke record label” (his words) for a series of minor releases. But one of his recent gags has nothing to do with the former and everything to do with the latter. By now, the songwriter might even be as known for his witty, self-skewering online presence as for his increasingly weird, increasingly excellent psych-folk. The jam-heavy live set captured between Walker’s four-piece band and the Japanese psych-prog quintet is a heady meeting of the minds.