It's not kiwi, but it's one of my favorites. Hearing
someone slight this record recently was like hearing an attack on an old friend.
Bathed in ambient warmth,
You Turn Me On is classic Beat Happening—pure, minimalist fury, driving percussion, and laconic drone—but in panoramic Technicolor. Draping their distinctly adult tales of lust, love, and rejection in the gauzy language of adolescence, the innocence of Beat Happening’s approach is belied by the bittersweet knowledge that such blissful idyll is fleeting. The childlike retreat to the comforting and the familiar is a futile pursuit, but it is often the only language that is available to us. Nakedly emotional and rooted in the present,
You Turn Me On is Beat Happening’s most honest record. From the opening strains of “Tiger Trap” to the closing chimes of “Bury the Hammer,” the album is an extraordinary coda to a career of conceptual and lyrical delights. Though its predecessors’ rinky-dink, schoolyard charms were a key aspect of Beat Happening’s sound, the more polished affair of
You Turn Me On does not lessen the impact of its songs but rather confirms what had always been clear: in terms of lyrical and melodic prowess, Beat Happening was a cut above the like-minded crop of awkward, cardigan-clad bands that appeared in their wake. The limitations of their sound were never reflected in the strength of their material. On
You Turn Me On, the digital effects suit the songs. It is difficult to imagine the lullaby drone of “Godsend” without the sweetly lilting guitar harmonies that blend and swoon together in a transcendent evocation of idealized love. Heather represented the pulsing, human heart at the center of Beat Happening, offering a sweet contrast to Calvin’s guttural food-sex-death metaphors and B-movie diversions, and ”Godsend” is the album’s centerpiece.
You Turn Me On is full of such moments, a beautiful and resigned farewell from one of the era’s greatest bands. Heather, Calvin, and Bret: thank you. - Ariel
A fine, underrated band from the peak of Flying Nun's influence, the Alpaca Brothers stirred up a nice racket on their 1986 Legless EP. The band featured Steve Courname, who went on to drum for the Verlaines, and Norma O'Malley of Look Blue Go Purple. - Ariel 
It's not kiwi, but it's one of my favorites. Hearing someone slight this record recently was like hearing an attack on an old friend.
Originally released as a four-song EP on Flying Nun in 1989, 'Time Flowing Backwards' was reissued by Homestead Records in 1991 with six additional tracks. 'Time Flowing Backwards' has a bigger, crunchier sound than its predecessor, Jefferies' 'Messages for the Cakekitchen,' though it shares that album's sense of droning urgency. Enjoy this and 'World of Sand.' - Ariel
'World of Sand' succeeded 1989's 'Time Flowing Backwards' EP, which was the official debut of Graeme Jefferies' recordings under the Cakekitchen moniker. It may be argued, however, that Jefferies' Messages for the Cakekitchen, released under his own name in 1988, was the true birth of Cakekitchen. The tightly crafted tension and claustrophobic nature of 'Messages...' is less apparent but not lost entirely in 'World of Sand.' A more polished affair, it is still unmistakably Jefferies, whose rich, guttural vocals appear alternatively menacing and tender. The revolving cast of musicians that have appeared in Cakekitchen over the years includes Alastair Galbraith, represented on this album in the haunting, gentle lilt of the title track, and the Clean's Hamish Kilgour. Enjoy. - Ariel
This album was Brian and Mayrose Crook's second full-length release as the Renderers, appearing four years after their debut, 'Trail of Tears.' The Crooks would produce their most lasting material with the Southern-fried, psychedelic twang of the Renderers, born out of the anarchic joy of the Max Block; 'The Dog's Head in the Gutter...' is undoubtedly their masterpiece. While 1991's 'Million Lights' 7" announced Mayrose Crook as the perfect vocal counterpoint to her husband, it is with this album that she truly comes into her own as a vocalist. The slow-burn of "So Blind," coupled with the quietly defiant resignation of Mayrose's vocal, punctuated by the piercing guitar tones of Brian Crook, achieves an escalating emotional intensity that sets the tone for the remainder of the album. Positioned after the ominous, dusk-tinged "Unforgiven," the two songs exemplify the weeping humanism at the heart of the Renderer's music, bittersweet yet tinged with the allure of misanthropy. Enjoy this one. - Ariel
