Oh Sees Retrospective #13: Castlemania

Now that we're deep into the discography of Oh Sees, it's got me thinking about what it is about certain bands that inspires such loyalty from fans. To put it another way, do people keep following Oh Sees and exploring their earlier releases because of a consistent quality? Is it because they continue to surprise us by trying new things, adding new members, changing their name, and/or taking stylistic left turns seemingly on a whim? Is it because John Dwyer is such a good looking fellow? I suspect the reason (or reasons) differs for every fan. When it comes to Castlemania, though, I've noticed that lovers and haters alike have the same reasoning for their feelings toward it: it's different.


Following up the release of Singles Collection Vol. 1 & 2 by only a couple months, Castlemania arrived in this world on May 10, 2011. Like Dog Poison, it was mostly recorded by Dwyer at home, with significant contributions from usual collaborator Brigid Dawson as well as then-fresh faced new boy Ty Segall. Unlike Dog Poison, Castlemania feels like a fully realized, finished project. You get the sense that he had these songs and ideas sitting around, and they wouldn't work with a full psych/garage rock arrangement, so he took another crack at doing them like he would have in the early days. This means more acoustic guitars, sure, but it also means a more expansive palette of sounds and instruments than on the OCS records. Moreover, when the album does rock, on 'Corrupted Coffin' and 'A Wall, A Century 2', it's hardly Help leftovers; rather, it's a skronky noise fest and a menacing, suffocating stomper, respectively.


While it doesn't sound so different from other Oh Sees projects that you'll be reaching for the sleeve to confirm the artist name, it can be said that Castlemania largely exists in its own sound world. Few Oh Sees albums are better served by a listen on headphones. In fact, between its grim lyrical content and insular atmosphere, I recommend enjoying it on headphones at 1 in the morning after everyone else has gone to bed while you're still awake taking bong hits and beer sips and thinking about life and death. In terms of the mix of poppy songwriting and the eerie/dark 60s psychedelia permeating out of the grooves, Castlemania brings to mind Olivia Tremor Control and their affiliates in the Elephant 6 collective. I mean, couldn't you see it showing up on shelves in 1999 next to Her Wallpaper Reverie and Black Foliage: Animation Music Volume 1?


What strikes me the most about this album is how long it took me to appreciate it. Back in 2011 when I discovered Oh Sees, I wrote a short, dismissive review of Castlemania, which is so poorly done I won't bother linking or quoting it. When I think back to my views at the time, and my taste in music, a better way to explain my initial negative opinion is that I was more inclined to expect things from records instead of letting them tell me their tale. I was such a huge instant fan of Help and Carrion Crawler/The Dream that it's all I expected or wanted from Oh Sees. When Castlemania turned out to be more like Olivia Tremor Control and less like Ty Segall, I couldn't even begin to hear it for what it was.


It's only with the last eight years of growth, further musical experiences, and especially doing this retrospective that I've come around to Castlemania. I defy anyone to not want to sing along to 'I Need Seed.' It's infectious and fun, contrasting with the chaotic intensity and clangor of the title track. I love the structure of this record, the way it balances its variety of tones and styles while still making for a coherent journey. In particular I love how 'The Horse Was Lost' seemingly closes out the album, with its distant saxophone moans and flute-like organ, before a minute of silence leads into the three covers that actually close the album. It's as if you just watched an intimate performance in someone's living room and now they're doing a few covers as an encore, with two of them sung by guests/friends. Sure, the very last song on Castlemania is a weirdly dour affair that sounds like Nico's The Marble Index, but I'm going to let that nitpick slide because I happen to love that album and being different is part of what makes Castlemania great. One criticism that does still hold for this record it's that you really have to be OK with Dwyer's affected vocals from this era. He purposefully sounds more bratty, nasally, and croaky than his natural voice, and if you find that kind of thing hard to overlook, this won't be a tolerable listen for long.


Since it's sandwiched in the 2011 releases between a sexy double album compilation and an adored fan favorite, and also since it's so different from their other records, Castlemania is easy to overlook and to skip over. I know many fans are eager to get to Carrion Crawler/The Dream. Sure, it's an almost universally beloved album; it's high on the list of recommendations for new fans and often makes top five placings in rankings of personal favorites of the devoted. Of course I'm excited to get to it. But give Castlemania its due first. Absolutely give this one another chance if it hasn't clicked with you before. It eventually did for me, and while it's never going to be one of my favorites, at least now I'm able to see it as the excellent and unique gem that others have been digging for years.

Bill Doss (1968-2012)

My first reaction when I read that Bill Doss had died was to text a friend with the news, mentioning that I hoped the band had finished their new album already, or that they would at least go on to finish it without him. A new Olivia Tremor Control record is long overdue, seeing as how they've been 'reunited' for a few years and their last true album was in 1999, but I was still a little bothered that my main concern seemed to be the music and not the man.

However, I think that's how Bill Doss would want it. He and most of his generation, comprising the indie/underground scene of the 90s, were all about the mystery and anonymity of bands. I want to mourn the man but I don't really know him, so it's a strange mixture of feelings. I feel sad but for what, exactly? Well, I suppose I'm sad because this must mean the end of Olivia Tremor Control. It's hard to imagine the band going on with only one creative leader.

Bill Doss and Will Cullen Hart, in fact, were the perfect musical foils. Doss favored the poppier end of the spectrum, and the music he made with The Sunshine Fix and The Apples (In Stereo) is a testament to this. Hart, on the other hand, was into the psychedelic and experimental end, making most or all of the tape collages and weird sonic elements in the band's sound. Sure, there was always a host of other musicians and friends involved, but Olivia Tremor Control was, at its core, Doss and Hart.

The band usually sounded like two record store employees fixated on the late 60s/early 70s psychedelic/pop scene, but their music never conformed to slavish devotion and imitation. If Music From The Unrealized Film Script: Dusk At Cubist Castle sounded like the best lost album of 1968 that never existed, it also sounded like the best lost album of 2008 that never existed, too. Indeed, it's easier to hear newer psychedelic/60s influenced bands  as being more influenced by the groundwork of Olivia Tremor Control than the actual bands of the past. I recently discovered Campfires, for example, whose music is a lot closer to the early lo-fi days of OTC than anything Pink Floyd or Cream ever did.

OTC's music was often about dreams and surreal situations, so much so that I assume Doss was purposefully focusing on things that transcended death and reality. Oddly, Will Cullen Hart announced he had MS a few years ago, so you might assume it was he who wanted to do transcend, or even, as I briefly thought, that it was he who had died. It's easy to explain my confusion since we know so little about the two, it's easy to confuse them. And since we know so little about their personal lives, it's impossible to know what the cause of Doss's death was.

And so I suppose without the explanation for the end of his story, and indeed without any part of story of the man besides the music he left behind, Bill Doss's music must stand in eternity for him.

The Apples In Stereo- Fun Trick Noisemaker

I'm saddened to see that this album has fallen out of print. Somehow being reduced to legally acquiring it through digital download seems antithetical to everything Apples In Stereo are about, not to mention the semi-retro sound of Fun Trick Noisemaker. This is an album you're supposed to hear through the warm snap, crackle, and pop of vinyl, or, at the very least, from the speakers of your car via a CD you borrowed from a friend because you said you liked Olivia Tremor Control and wanted something similar. In the 90s, Fun Trick Noisemaker was spoken of in the same 'instant classic' category as Pavement'sCrooked Rain, Crooked Rain or Built To Spill's Perfect From Now On. Whether it's due to record label issues, public interest, or a bit of both, Fun Trick Noisemaker isn't in print while those two albums are. It's a shame, and I mean “shame” somewhat literally here: it's shameful that such a great album has been forgotten and mistreated like this.

Olivia Tremor Control are the flagship band of Elephant 6, and Neutral Milk Hotel tend to steal all the thunder with their In The Aeroplane Over The Seaalbum, but it was the Apples In Stereo who had the first true recorded output from the collective, as well as one of its earliest and best albums. If nothing else, Fun Trick Noisemaker proved Robert Schneider had a gift for hooky, melodic songwriting. At the same time, the album more or less defined the aesthetic of Elephant 6, with its warm, mid-fi production, intricate 'Wall Of Sound' style layering of sounds, and a strong debt to 60s pop music, specifically the music of The Beatles, Beach Boys, and their many followers. Rather than be a slavish imitation of Pet Sounds or Revolver, however, Fun Trick Noisemaker takes inspiration from that music but is its own thing entirely. You can build on the past without needing to build with the past. 'Tidal Wave' and 'Green Machine' bear a sound that is not so much timeless in the way the Beatles are timeless, but timeless in the sense that they could be from the 60s, the mid 90s, or today.

In fact, it's this album's mix of 60s psychedelic/art pop and early-to-mid 90s indie rock that just does it for me. It's similar to my trembling addiction to Panda Bear's Person Pitch, an album that freely blends a strong 60s vibe with hip hop and electronic music sampling/looping techniques. As for Fun Trick Noisemaker, you could file this somewhere between Pavement and, I dunno, the Zombies and be done with it. 'Pine Away' is exactly what I mean, since its rhythm guitar sound and languid drumming wouldn't be out of place on Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, while the nasally, slightly druggy vocals and melody are redolent of much 60s music. Not that the album is only just this way: 'Glowworm' is all jangle/power pop until the guitar solo, which is pure fuzz distortion. The majestic instrumental 'Innerspace' reminds me of a less jazzy Television, while 'Dots 1-2-3' is full of surging energy that predates the power-pop of The New Pornographers, if not also anticipating the early 00s garage rock revival.

The Apples In Stereo are one of the few Elephant 6 bands that have stayed active from their mid 90s beginnings to present day, so it's a bit odd that their first, and some would argue best, album is out of print. Stuff by Beulah and Elf Power are out of print? Sure, that makes sense. But man, this is Fun Trick Noisemaker we're talking about! Well, here's hoping someone buys the rights to it or it gets a re-print. This album is one of those gems that you happen across during a slow period for music you're interested in, or, say, during a flagging period of interest in and inspiration for writing about music, and it reminds you why you love it so much to begin with.

5 Poorly Drawn Stars Out Of 5

Album of the Week: Olivia Tremor Control- Music From The Unrealized Film Script: Dusk At Cubist Castle

There's just something about late 60s/early 70s music that continually fascinates and appeals to music listeners. Though there was a lot of great music made beforehand, this era in particular feels like the point at which musicians--pop musicians in particular--began to take music seriously as an artform. Bands taking themselves and music seriously would result in a lot of pretentious dreck, but there's no denying the huge amount of fantastic music that came out during this time. It's a well known tale, but the Beatles and Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys had a friendly rivalry going, resulting in some of the best pop music ever made. All over the world, people were really pushing themselves to innovate and to say something with pop music. The rise of concept albums, progressive rock, art rock, and so on were all results of this trend.

It's no accident that the Elephant 6 collective latched unto this era as their influence. And as, arguably, the flagship band of the collective, the Olivia Tremor Control represented the most obvious and pure obsession with this era, creating music that sounded like it belonged in the late 60s/early 70s and to sit alongside the incredibly ambitious pop music of the time. Music From The Unrealized Film Script: Dusk At Cubist Castle (whew!!) is the band's first album, and a suitably monolithic debut it was. Even the background of its creation sounds like it could be the story of some kind of 60s hippie commune taking too many drugs and slowly finishing a masterpiece, as it was recorded over the course of three years on outdated 4-track machines (just like they had back in the 60s, kids!! Well, OK, Wikipedia tells me that they later used a 8-track for final production work).

Olivia Tremor Control is the story of the co-existing-but-ever-dueling music sensibilities of Bill Doss and Will Cullen Hart. While Doss is seen as the pop classicist, writing incredibly catchy 60s style tunes, Hart is seen as the arch experimentalist, favoring tape collages, ambient soundscapes, and musique concrete. As such, Dusk At Cubist Castle is a fascinating, complex album that rewards the returning listener. Though primarily a psychedelic pop album that recalls the best of the Beatles at their druggiest and catchiest, the album also has a middle section entirely given over to the 10-track 'Green Typewriters' suite, a showcase for Hart's experimental bent, as well as odd sonic tricks throughout. I've always thought of Dusk At Cubist Castle as a perfectly paced album; that is to say, an album's album. Right about the usual time I tend to drift off while listening to a long album, Dusk hits the 'Green Typewriters' suite, and wakes up along with me 23 minutes later. Not that it isn't an engaging listen, as it gives little snippets of mini-songs along the way that are intriguing glimpses of what could have been full songs, but once you hit the drifting, ethereal heart of the suite, it's hard not to surrender to the void.

At 27 tracks and 74 minutes of music, Dusk At Cubist Castle may seem like a daunting, overlong listen. But thanks to the delicious pop songs of Doss, it's a breezy experience: 'Jumping Fences' is rightfully considered one of the best things the band produced; 'I Can Smell The Leaves' has a druggy, reverential vibe; and 'The Gravity Car' sounds like a music box or carousel going delightfully out of control. More than anything, though, Olivia Tremor Control prove to us what the best artists of the late 60s/early 70s discovered: pop music and experimental music aren't mutually exclusive. Though I have to confess that I personally enjoy the band's second (and last) album Black Foliage: Animation Music Volume 1 slightly more because it's darker, crazier, and not-as-slavishly-close to the 60s sound, Dusk At Cubist Castle represents the more successful combination of the visions of Olivia Tremor Control's co-leaders. Black Foliage often sounds as if the yin and yang are tearing at each other and stepping on each others' feet, but they co-exist peacefully on Dusk.

'Timeless' is a term that's sometimes bandied about to indicate music that has a unique sound which doesn't belong to any particular era or scene. I'm not sure I would call Dusk At Cubist Castle timeless. What I am sure of is that I would call Dusk At Cubist Castle an incredible achievement in pop music, and an underground legend deserving of its praise.