Browse by Artist: MAGIK MARKERS

Artist:	MAGIK MARKERS
Title:	BOSS
Label:	ARBITRARY SIGNS
Format:	LP
Price:	$17.00
Catalog #:	ARB 002LP

2010 repress, originally released in 2008. Limited vinyl version of the most accessible Magik Markers album (CD is on Ecstatic Peace), on their very own label Arbitrary Signs. "Recorded in the cavernous dark of Echo Canyon West with producer Lee Ranaldo working the boards like a diviner, BOSS documents the Markers with a previously-unheard fidelity and orchestration. Idiosyncratic song structure and melodies interspersed with a destructive drum stomp are reminiscent of the early electrified blues of Junior Kimbrough, or the black hole rhythms of Kousokuya. In a 2005 interview in The Wire, Elisa Ambrogio said, 'I want [The Magik Markers] to concentrate on music and focus inward, to concentrate on our own language of sound.' BOSS stands as the Markers' first stab at getting to the meat of this ambition. With a mix of blues simplicity, an almost Sonny Sharrock wailing and a janky Americana punk reminiscent of Pat Place and Roky Erickson, Ambrogio avoids preciousness like a rash. On BOSS, a tent rises right out of the empty plain and we are thrust into a full-blown revival show with no audience and no lights; it is just Elisa preaching, Pete blowing Gabriel's horn, and the mad wind of the prairie blowing all around. They are each hand-screened individual works of art & very very limited."

Artist:	MAGIK MARKERS
Title:	Balf Quarry
Label:	DRAG CITY
Format:	CD
Price:	$13.50
Catalog #:	DC 376CD

"Oh, Magik Markers -- you dirty fuckers! You look like a reasonably intelligent young woman and man -- perhaps a bit intense, but who isn't in these end times? Then the needle drops and you're amok, dusting us from the git-go, wild-eyed in a china shop where stop keeps meaning more. Ah, if it were only music -- but it would appear you've rethought that too. And would it kill you to crack a smile? When an album begins with a song called 'Risperdal,' one should assume a mind-and-body-slamming forty-five minutes or so are underway. And 'one' wouldn't be wrong, dickhead. Sure, Balf Quarry has moody space in its soul, melodies whether stretched over rock, ululating rhythm, chimes 'n piano and/or wah-wah. Regardless of the configuration, Elisa Ambrogio and Pete Nolan are locked together, beating it out, listening to feeling the sound of their earth quake. And slicing through all the atmosphere, Elisa's voice is a spear of light, splashes of mud, an acid purple flashback. The Balf Quarry libretto reads like an inner monologue of some poor bastard from The Stand: desperate and vengeful musings from the head of a witness to and survivor of an apocalypse, in a world they never made, dreaming helplessly of the demons out west. 'Safe before their life sets in' might mean hope in this landscape. The world's not broken -- people ruin it every time. Working with engineer Scott Colburn (Sun City Girls, Animal Collective, Sir Richard Bishop), Magik Markers have captured a lot of different moods and twitches on Balf Quarry. Tremoring mid-rhythms form the body, with a couple showers of hardcore, high flying free-duo style and several clinking music boxes of woe as well. On slower tunes, the mass of brooding guitar tone generated is Elisa's signature, a carving all of her own. Fills, licks and other touches move the songs a broken arm's length away from a fundament of chaos and horror. When colors actually match and you have grey music for grey days, it's great -- but what about grey music for cherry red lava days, or rainbow sounds arcing over six months of darkness? Anything goes -- and just your luck, Magik Markers have brought anything with them on Balf Quarry -- a multicolored projectile of vomit you can sing along to! If psychosis is your thing, Balf Quarry is like a jukebox just for you. The only thing it's missing is a brick attached to the CD to facilitate throwing it through your window! No, we're not talking about you, asshole. This is the royal 'you' -- the 'you' of all Magik Markers fandom, the 'you' of anyone with ears and the guts for this shit. Wot fun! Prepare for the birth of the second sun, y'all."

Artist:	MAGIK MARKERS
Title:	BOSS
Label:	ECSTATIC PEACE
Format:	CD
Price:	$11.00
Catalog #:	E#100F

"When confronted with an example of magnificence in nature, such as a waterfall, Jane Goodall reported that the chimpanzees she observed were captivated, as if in awe of the beauty of the world. On BOSS, the Magik Markers have tried to capture the chimps' awe. A formality and restraint the Markers have never exerted on their previously recorded material is present on BOSS. Now the Markers are Jainists, with their mouths masked so as to not inhale even one tiny insect, here pursuing the killer gentle with a vengeance. Recorded in the cavernous dark of Echo Canyon West, with producer Lee Ranaldo working the boards like a diviner, BOSS documents the Markers with a previously unheard fidelity and orchestration. Idiosyncratic song structure and melodies interspersed with a destructive drum stomp are reminiscent of the early electrified blues of Junior Kimbrough, or the black hole rhythms of Kousokuya. Mixing a gentle vulnerability with a winded egomania, the Markers have always had a musical tunnel vision; BOSS is that vision made manifest. The tug of war the Markers enact, the way they are fully prepared to start yanking their world apart as they find themselves losing their place in, makes moot possibilities of greatness or mediocrity. It makes them unapologetic soothsayers with their ears pressed to the ground, waiting for footsteps. With Peter Nolan, we finally hear what Lou Reed would have sounded like had he sallied with the drums instead of getting seduced by the easy praise of front man status. Like Rashid Ali squeezed into the Teutonic leather pants of Faust, Nolan drums like there are hell hounds at his heels but he just can't be bothered. Here both laconic and frenzied, Nolan's drumming arms reach out like an octopus': tickling the ivories, humming the organ and blasting taps on some kind of endtime trumpet. As a pianist, Nolan reminds us that the piano is a percussive, beating out the whoomp of some old war dance, a bare foot-fall rhythm of fighters to battle and the heavy hands of a whiskey burlesque in the afternoon. Nolan is easy to underestimate, but finally, here is high fidelity record of the strange soul of one of America's most natural and quizzical musical minds."

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