When River Flows Reverse (TWISTED FLOWERS TF001) gives us eight songs of acid-drenched melodic instrumentals and songs from a combo named River Flows Reverse. Most of the instruments are played by local hero Ambrus Bence (who also produced the set), joined by the singers Kriszti Benus from Lemurian Folk Songs and Lorinc Sántha from Indeed. Tibor Kovács, from Strong Deformity, adds drums. There’s also the guest trumpet player Nico Delmas from Hold Station. Guitarist Bence happens to be in several not-unrelated bands, such as Liquidacid, Satorinaut, Slight Layers, Predictions, and the already-noted Lemurian Folk Songs, and has been appearing on records since 2017.

So far one might be expecting a Hungarian take on The Bevis Frond (one-man band, heavy psychedelic influence), but Bence and crew have their own distinct voice. A track like ‘At the Gates of The Perennial’ impresses with its clarity and simplicity; the guitar tone is clear, no excessive pedal effects, and though it’s an instrumental it’s by no means an empty, meandering “jamming” session. Bence picks his notes with care, performing with calm focus over the sort of determined steady shuffle figure you might associate with Opal, Can, or even Wooden Shjips. There’s also ‘El Sendero II & III’, another long-ish piece which allows our man to stretch out into an epic “cinematic” sweep on the lines of ‘Kashmir’ replete with exotic aural touches, without feeling the need to resort to Page-Plant histrionics or bombast; on the contrary, much of the melodic topline here is “suggested” rather than stated, by combining guitar strums, percussion, and minimal lead electric guitar stabs (as fine as a knitting needle). It’s probably the banjo of Lorinc and the trumpet of Delmas here that make me think I’m hearing a reimagined soundtrack of a very dark revisionist Western movie, one where all the cowboys are skeletons and the county jail is a nuclear bunker full of toxic waste.

We should also mention the two vocalists, heard notably on ‘Leaving Shades Ahead’ and on the minor-key ‘Final Run’ with their chilly harmonies; the latter song is very like meeting Nico on her way to give a slap in the face to Grace Slick. River Flows Reverse tell us the record was made in a cold shed in the middle of a muddy forest, and seems to have been a response to the lockdown situation when all gigs were cancelled, the band members felt bored, and just started playing this music; “this is a masterpiece of our curfew recordings,” reads the press release. It is something of a relief, after a series of lockdown records being used as platforms for a pious lecture or some quasi-philosophical drivel, to hear someone honestly admit that they were simply “bored”. Tamás Tóth did the cover art, with its imaginary geography and adding to the sense this this whole LP is a travelogue, winding us down rivers and across terrains with its stately wagon-driven pace. I shan’t say that every track is essential, or even that it needs to be a double-LP, but there are enough strong examples of the band’s instrumental craft to make this a worthwhile visit.

Diviner Blues Sessions (TWISTED FLOWERS TF002), credited to Slight Layers, Predictions, also a double LP, is the more conventional of the two – a document of 12-bar blues sessions, and showcasing the lead guitar work of David Nagy; Ambrus Bence is here again, now playing bass guitar, and Mate Varga is on drums. The album was recorded in the “underground” rehearsal space used by other Hungarian bands – Satorinaut, Lemurian Folk Songs, Pilot Voyager – and more, which I mention as further evidence of this thriving psychedelic rock culture in Hungary.

Unlike Bence above, Nagy has his own more florid and discursive approach to lead guitar, quite some way from the refined guitar minimalism displayed above, and he’s not afraid of letting rip with blues-based riffing, whammy bar action, and the sort of trippy non-stop marathon playing that is so loved by fans of Jerry Garcia. However, much to his credit David Nagy doesn’t overdo it with the pedals or amplifier distortion, although there may be some wah-wah and other effects on occasion, and if you like a good clean guitar tone you should tune in to ‘Vital Verifications’ on Side D. On ‘Subconscious Takes’, the band reveal a talent for group dynamics and a reasonably well-worked-out melody that sustains a 23-minute workout, even if it’s arguable we’re not hearing much musical progress from Jeff Beck, Cream, or the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Indeed as the record continues, we start to sense that here’s a rock music culture that’s been largely untroubled by significant musical developments like punk rock or post-punk; even the harsh atonalities of Sonic Youth offer no temptations to our Hungarian lads. Unlike their psychedelic heroes though, this is a band that largely seems incapable of freaking out or transcending the form, and they stick doggedly and efficiently to the execution of the chosen task.

Enfin, competent and professional blues rock jams are the bill of fare, despite whatever esoteric strangeness and unknown journeys the cover art imagery may promise us.

With a name like Jointhugger, these men from Horten in southern Norway might be expected by most to be content singing and playing songs about their favourite herb, exploring what it does for them and how, and perhaps admitting that it also traps them in an endless cycle of pleasure and addiction and acknowledging that it is no real substitute for the things that might be lacking in their lives and the lives of those they know who have also come under the spell of psychoactive drugs. “Surrounded by Vultures”, Jointhugger’s second album, does indeed confront addiction, how alcohol, marijuana and hallucinogenic drugs can affect people and also offer comfort and hope in a world increasingly becoming bleak and dysfunctional – but in its own way, by exploring its particular sonic environment as well as empathising with people battling their personal demons, it also offers another immersive route to a level of comfort and hope.

“Surrounded …” is intended to be part of a trilogy of full-length recordings in which three parts of an overarching instrumental work span over three albums. The second chapter of this instrumental opus “In Dire Need of Fire” is an expansive cosmic psych doom / stoner rock jam, the three musicians wandering where they will across huge regions of deep time and space. Stuttery percussion, low-flying howling drone guitars and deep crushing bass lead the way. It’s not all slow sludge music: later in the track near the end an unknown emergency takes hold of Jointhugger and the trio belt their way down a dizzying dazzling wormhole into another universe. This brings us into “Midnight”, a hugely heavy sludge doom juggernaut where grinding, crushing riffs alternate with delicate guitar melodies and frail vocals influenced by 1960s / 70s hard rock / blues styles. The singing conveys a strong sense of desolation and crying for help while the alternation between hard driving doom and brief moments of very light fragile melodies might mirror the mental state of addicts torn between their need and the prison they are locked in. “Empty Space” is a bluesy track mixing deep bass, fuzzy noise, impassioned lead guitar soloing and darkly brooding atmospheres of alienation and longing.

Every song on the album is different from the rest in its mix of psychedelic, sludge, doom and stoner rock elements: even the style of singing varies from one track to the next though the vocals are rough and limited in range. “Delysid Rex” has a Sabbath influence in its vocals, though most of the song is an instrumental weaving its way through classic hard rock, fuzzy bass solos and occasional crushing doom guitar noise. The album closes with “The Calm” in which hypnotic fuzz bass dominates in a track that zips from fast urgent melodies and crashing cymbals to slow, drowsy passages where time and space almost stand still and the only real thing that matters is the snaking music and guitar feedback.

The first three songs are good and spirited in their delivery but after “Empty Space”, some of the zest peters out and the Jointhugger trio are almost grasping for inspiration in the long instrumental jams where influences like legendary US band Sleep start to become a bit obvious. Jointhugger may have reached a stage in their development where they really need to expand their scope to include much more ambient / atmospheric music elements and music genres outside the well-worn paths associated with doom and stoner rock. What they do here on “Surrounded …” is good robust work but they need to be more adventurous and experimental with their sound and style, and go beyond what other psych doom / stoner rock bands are doing.

The band really excels on the short track “Empty Space” where the mix of fuzzy doom, urban blues and the slight quivering singing match well and create a stark, confronting work of art expressing despair and loneliness – I wish the song had been a bit longer and that there had been at least another song matching it in the creation of a distinct mood, atmosphere and fusion style of doom / blues. For me, “Empty Space” is the highlight of the album and could well be an opportunity for the band to go in a noirish / urban blues direction. Jointhugger have a great sound and a strong muscular style; now they need original material that stretches their talent and abilities.

Formed in Niger in 2016, Dag Tenere is a group of several musicians of Tuareg background from Bourkina Faso, Mali and Niger in western Africa playing a hybrid style of blues rock and traditional Tuareg music. Led by guitarists / songwriters Goumar Abdoul Jamil and Ibrahim Ahmed Guita, Dag Tenere released their first album “Timasniwen Tikmawen” independently in 2018 and have followed this up with another independent work, the EP “Iswat”. What the six songs on “Iswat” lack in length – all but one run under four minutes each – they more than make up for in raw, deeply felt emotion through searing dark blues guitar chords and tones that peel off the fretboards and fall like lonely raindrops. Members take turns as lead vocalists, followed by the rest of band as handclapping backing vocalists. While Western stringed instruments like electric guitars and bass dominate, the percussion instruments come from local traditional African music genres and might be djembe drums or calabash gourd drums. (Interestingly, the Tuareg – usually thought of by us Westerners as a wholly nomadic desert people – sometimes partially submerge the calabash drum into water and play it that way to mimic the sound of camels’ hooves.)

On the whole, despite the early tracks being quite startling in their raw desert blues guitar and bass sounds, “Iswat” tends to be a quiet and restrained album with a stark minimalist style. Even the women’s ululations seem quite self-controlled. The songs cover subjects such as the love and respect Tuareg people have for their mothers (“Anna”), love for a beautiful woman (“Tabsit”) and the regret and sorrow Tuareg people feel in having to escape poverty and suffering by leaving the desert and its distinct landscapes, beauty and solitude for the impersonal hustle and bustle of city life (“Tihoussay Tenere”). “Koud Edhaz Emin” is a cover of the Mali-based Tuareg band Tinariwen’s song of the same name and title track “Iswat” is a traditional tune arranged by singer Zaina Aboubacar who plays a tendé drum as well as sing and ululate. Incidentally the title track is dominated by female performers with the men relegated to backing vocals duties.

Dag Tenere might not have the resources that the longer established and better known Tinariwen can command but the Niger-based collective certainly deserves support and encouragement.

The duo of Loren Connors & Suzanne Langille appear on the 7-incher Strong & Foolish Heart / Blue Ghost Blues (TANUKI RECORDS #16), which was recorded at a festival in Glasgow in 2013. The alienated guitar music of Connors is something I feel I ought to know more about, and I’ve often bumped into it since there was a surge of interest in his music since the mid-1990s. There was an Ecstatic Yod box set of four CDs that compiled some of his early acoustic work that I’ve often wondered about. We have fared a little better in recent years with the Haunted House records, where Connors and Langille teamed up with others in a tenuous musical situation that could just about be described as a “band”. Their albums for Northern Spy were impressive, including a fairly rockin’ beast called Blue Ghost Blues…but I haven’t compared the 2011 version with the song on this single to confirm if it’s the same song in another form. Matter of fact “form” is never the word that really comes to mind when hearing this duo’s music, as it seemed determined never to materialise into any recognisable shape. Think instead of musical phantoms, ectoplasms, fogs; that might be a better way to consider its value. I will say that on her singing for ‘Strong & Foolish Heart’, Suzanne Langille does pay her respects to the blues idiom with her flattened fifths, but does so in slow motion, like a mannered, awkward and frozen-stiff version of Billie Holiday meeting Ida Cox at the side of some infernal glacier. Meanwhile Connors is producing effects that are more like shimmering, transient aerial phenomena (the Northern Lights, for instance) rather than concrete guitar chords, or anything that might translate back into a basic blues-box. The combination of odd shapes, FX pedals and perhaps the tremolo arm come into play in producing this ethereal sensation. Bleak and chilling material, but wait till you hear the near-apocalyptic wail of ‘Blue Ghost Blues’, where the guitar creeps into the noisier realms with extended, hollow-sounding riffs that induce lasting despair. Langille’s lyric is half-spoken, half-whispered, half-sung…the metaphor of ghosts and haunted houses clearly abides with her as a lasting “motif”, perhaps a way of dealing with ruined relationships, horrible memories, and impossible situations that can’t be resolved. Very good. 250 copies of the record were pressed, the visuals are by Loren and there are three different covers available. From 25th January 2016.

In Langlade’s case, it’s slightly easier to trace his connections to rural blues forms with most of his work, and indeed one track is a cover version of a John Fahey tune (‘Valhalla Blues’), acknowledging Fahey’s importance not just as a guitarist but as a conduit for our deeper understanding of 1920s and 1930s blues records. Langlade is also slightly less enamoured of the “plangent” sound that Henritzi favours, though he’s clearly steeped in the same emotional range, and most of Seas leaves the listener stranded in a sad and lonely place of desolation. With the limitations of the sound, and the severe restrictions of the melodic range, the album starts to appear very samey after only a few tracks, but even so there’s no denying the conviction and poise behind Langlade’s languid strums and strokes. From 29th March 2016.

Split Electric (THREAD RECORDINGS THR002) is a team-up with another guitarist, Nick Jonah Davis – the name is new to me, but what a talented picker he is to be sure, almost threatening to upstage my “Golden Boy” with his lightning-fast reflexes and instinctive snake-like way around a tune. This Nottingham fellow (let’s hope he plays a version of ‘Nottamun Town’ that excels that of Davey Graham) has been winning plaudits and heavy superlatives for his live appearances, and has a few solo LPs to his name, including one for the American Tompkins Square label. He’s also one half of Fains with fiddler Jo Cormack.

If the two guitarists share common ground, it might be their unusual and imaginative stance when it comes to processing and reprocessing various musical histories and genres across their fretboards…blues, English folk, American folk, rockabilly, Old Timey, country and western, raga, Northumbrian pipe music, and many more forms both ancient and modern are detectable in each beautiful instrumental here, but as ever with Joynes and ditto with Davis, evidently – it’s done with respect and love and knowledge, not with intent to produce a commercial cocktail of pasted-together styles done in some half-baked fashion, cynically designed to generate major income streams. We’ll leave all that to Jools Holland…

The two stringsters are also total adepts of the guitar, playing with assurance and exhibiting much skilful ripple-picking, hammering-on and slide techniques to be savoured, but remaining true to the sort of perfectionism and sheer clarity we always associate with Joynes; never a blurred note across all 12 tunes. However, amplification and resulting distortion is permitted this time around…did I mention it’s an electric guitar album? On at least a couple of tracks, Nick Jonah Davis exploits the electricity in his favour – on ‘Scaraboo’ enhancing his lethal Richard Thompson-esque brooding lead lines with a phase pedal to create a muzzy psychedelic swirl, and on ‘Sigil Eyes’ using echo and noise effects to create the album’s least melodic material, an exploration into a dark and supernaturally tinged corner…sinister stuff…

Joynes tends to hew true to clear-eyed folk-inspired melodies, and his tracks (the players alternate) are briefer, are guaranteed to put a spring in your step and soon lead to sprightly dancing on the front lawn…his version of ‘Salmon Tails Up the Water’, which I know from a pipe tune played by Jack Armstrong [1. On my copy of Northumbrian Minstrelsy, Concert Hall AM 2339 (1964), recorded by Peter Kennedy.], is just two minutes of unadulterated joy. On top of this you’ve got it as a 180g vinyl pressing with sleeve art by Richard Dawson, another contemporary folk-visionary genius from Tyne and Wear, making this an irresistible package. At least it is for you, if you purchase a copy…all I have is a CDR in a card envelope. The only snipe I would make is to complain about the press notes, that describe it as “a series of solitary electric guitar explorations”, which seems an unnecessarily prolix way of saying it’s a guitar solo record. This gem arrived 12 November 2015.

Enthusiastic tuneful jazz-coloured pièces unfold like narratives : that’s how this record opens. Interlacing instruments, the tunes develop without any blur. As for the graphic statement of the sleeve itself, both the « songs » and the respective instrumental parts allow the said narratives to bloom freely, devoid of any disturbance : clarity rules here. Another remarkable feature : the relative brevity of each piece (max. 9:28). The rhythm section builds its foundations and run on, while both reed and mouthpiece tell the tale. As it is, it makes for a steady collection of short stories. Nor extra-ingredient, neither superfluous development. Yet, adventure characterizes the hence-produced music ! But : tensions are in full control, whipped or sustained by an elastic bass work, combined with a sparse and efficient drum work. The quartet operates like a squad, a cool but alert commando : attack/ retreat.

Each voice finds its place, sounds pertinent, flawless and in absolute connexion with the other(s).

An exercise in achievement through clarity.

Beck Hunters
The Hunt Is On
UK DISCUS 46CD (2014)

Whereas the BECK-HUNTER compound explores, digs down interrogation itself, « suspended disbeliefs », cautiously, before insisting on repetitive probings into the heart of some explosive find (hydrocarbure ?) here do we face the possibility of a climax at some point in the explorative process, an escalade, a crescendo (empiric-style). Although we may tread here in familiar idiomatic waters, the dynamics embody both breaks and discrete units, as to never really letting things slip out into self-destruction. Whereas it may sound like troubled water, yet there’s still no mud in the brew : the « questioning » probes within bubbles, rebel territories. there’s a sense of stalking, of ambush, in here : effectively, a hunt is on. Sometimes, strings and horn confront, while the drums seem to play the referee. Yet one could object that the confrontations don’t always display brevity; everyone to himself ? Or stalking together ? The aforementioned interrogations could lie herein. Of course, no answer. And effectively, when a climax is reached, it is sustained into probing a very pointed object deep into the heart of a howling animal, which keeps agonizing with bravado, despair and pain.

Tension builds up throughout the whole record :from start to end, and in that sense, fulfill the object’s title. A very dynamic action piece of a record, is what it is. Conveniently or oddly enough, each track has its intention note on the sleeve, which of course is worth being read after a good listening.

O’Death Jug
The Ballad Of Sad Cafe (Four Arms, Two Necks, One Feedback #1)
FRANCE NOTHING OUT THERE NOT #31 CDR (2014)

Idioms roll on, so far. The guitar duo drips on an eastern stringed blues that echoes a former sound work (Shinjuku blues), a post-Japanese residency effort from Michel Henritzi. The dripping, sliding, plucking and bending, circled by arpeggios (slightly altering the course) tell the same dusty story, again. Dust wind blows, tumbleweed is brushed away : the notes and chords bounce and reverberate, and feed harmonies back into the sabbath; skeletal loops join in, while a lap-steel storm breaks > atonal waves of chords explode, bell-like, then decrease… The space considered for exploration is quite horizontal, focusing or residing on specific parts of the instrument’s neck, as a given territory. The results are so transfixed in a blinding light (white heat) that mirages happen : static and mobile overlap, everything moving as it remains stuck, like a slow eternal return. A focal point, a dust implosion in slow-motion, this music sounds like its distant cousin of the west : always the same, always different (& evolving) No melody carries it anywhere : rather an inward collapsing, a dusty set of starving ragas unfolding, over and over. Perpetual motion. Both instrumentalists remain seated, it goes without saying. The linocut sleeve is flirting with Posada-like imagery, day of the dead and all, a rough, sad and innocent display. Unwinding music, like a torn cloth in the desert wind.

Another strong record from the Norwegian trio Cakewalk who we last heard with their 2012 debut album Wired; they use synths, guitars, bass and drums to produce excellent improvised instrumental work, situated somewhere more or less in the area of avant-garde rock music, but enriched with plenty of ideas, innovation, and just sheer tough-mindedness driving every note, plus a great approach to making records that ensures clarity, depth, and a straight left to the jaw for every listener. Stephan Meidell, Øystein Skar and Ivar Loe Bjørnstad work hard to escape cliché and over-familiar sounds, and they can be quite indignant if ever challenged about their supposed “resemblance” to any given band or genre of music: “chances are we’ve never listened to them”, they assert, when presented with a music journalist’s review studded with lists of references. For the most part, Transfixed (HUBRO MUSIC HUBROCD2526) has a sombre and heavy approach in the performances which I would liken to holding a conversation with a troupe of heavy-set tattooed wrestlers who have somehow been awarded professorial chairs at a school of advanced study, and who now hold no truck with dissenters as they lecture from the podium on their chosen subjects with gravity and authority. This is especially true of the relentless chugging motion of ‘Ghosts’, a piece of music whose stern aspect is only slightly leavened by a surface of decorative electronic trills used about as sparingly as silver balls on a miser’s birthday cake; and the controlled hysteria of ‘Swarm’, which could be used to provoke a riot in any given crowded situation, for example the New York stock exchange floor. ‘Bells’ is trying a shade too hard to be more likeable, and in places could be mistaken for a media-friendly arthouse movie soundtrack, and ‘Dive’ is a misguided attempt to do the ‘bleak ambient’ thing, which this trio are not suited for; they’re just too loquacious for effective minimalism. But the remainder, ‘Dunes’ and especially the dour title track, deliver just the right tone of steely menace, all set to a thrilling rock beat. From 07 October 2013.

An artist ought to give us a special view of the world. Today for me it’s possible to imagine a surreal vista of green sunlit fields of Cambridge in June, overlaid with a view of the Savannahs of Africa, a 1930s photograph of mud flats in Mississippi and the floodplains of Thailand as presented by National Geographic magazine. It’s a kaleidoscopic vision, but it’s coherent – all the geographical features match up. Hard by is my guide C Joynes in his sun helmet, his acoustic guitar and banjo under one arm, and a clutch of albums under the other – English folk from the Topic label, 1960s free jazz on Atlantic, old 78s by Skip James and Charley Patton, his mind constantly making cross-references between these and with the Folkways LPs of Indonesian and Asian music provided by friend Simon Loynes, who is within hailing distance. Images swim back and forth, birds fly backwards reversing time with their wings, mighty trees sink into the ground, and spectres rise from unknown locales. All this is accomplished in short, compressed musical utterances performed with the grace and lightness of touch of a true master.

Hope some of this conveys how delighted I am with the new album from C Joynes, Congo (BO’ WEAVIL RECORDINGS WEAVIL46 CD) which arrived here in October 2011, the follow-up to Revenants, Prodigies And The Restless Dead released in 2009 by this same label in a similar “house style” package. C Joynes continues to make gloriously beautiful instrumental music and, just like two years ago, I am barely able to write anything useful about it. In creating his crystal-clear blends of stirring melodies inspired by the folk musics of the world, Joynes plays mostly acoustic guitar and possibly the banjo, maybe some slide guitar on one track; he’s joined by his team of collaborators including Patrick Farmer, Dominic Lash, Simon Loynes and Richard Partidge, here credited as The Marsh Arabs and adding delicious touches of percussion, bass and stringed instruments. The violin work of Partridge is especially welcome, adding its scrapy and mournful drone sparingly at key moments, causing hairs to rise on the back of the spine. Further exotic voicings are added by Loynes (a.k.a. The Doozer) with his Indian Tarang, and his Phin (lute-ish) and Khaen (harmonica-ish) from Thailand. These additions are subtle, understated, not a jarring mix or a mannered contrivance; all natural, all good.

Bruce Russell, famed New Zealand guitarist and musical connoisseur, contributes the sleeve notes to this one and he joins the long list of writers, myself included, who are amazed and astounded to the point of being flummoxed at Joynes’ fluency with a wide range of international musics from the past and presents configurations of our wonderful globe. On this album Russell can hear exciting confluences of Indian, African, English folk and American bluegrass music, delivered by Joynes with his characteristic playing style – assured, measured, accurate as a diamond, and with no attempt at flashiness. Joynes is not attempting to bewilder the listener with an indigestible stew that mixes up genres, styles and indigenous musics simply for novelty’s sake. It’s not incumbent on us to decode all the resonances and layers of meaning, nor to attempt to spot the joins (pun intended) where the early country blues tune cross-bred with Martin Carthy leaves off and the Java gamelan music informed by Congolese drumming begins, and I’m not a musicologist in any case. Joynes has done all that work for us, and with his intelligence, discrimination, intuition and sheer raw talent, is carefully and quietly crafting a fully-articulated musical vocabulary that is quite unique and his alone. No purist he, one who insists on preserving ethnic music through slow fossilisation. Nor does he need to extemporise on his guitar at length with 20-minute guitar-orchestra symphonies; he packs dense volumes of information into tunes some two or three minutes in length. We can be assured, as we listen, that there is an honesty and authenticity to every note he plays, and all we need do is open our ears and let the beauty come streaming in.

I would add that on this occasion, what comes over very strongly is a sense of warmth and compassion as well, and it’s embedded in the very musical forms they play but also in the collaborative playing which is much more to the fore than previous releases that have tended to showcase Joynes solo. In his trusted team of cohorts and friends, Joynes is constantly arriving at a shared view of the mysterious other-worlds in past and present incarnations, and they are able to pass this on to us, giving us magical glimpses of ‘Joseph in the Sea of Corn’ or the terrifying ‘Ghosts of the Field’. As with previous releases, the musical tapestry is enhanced by a rich array of visual and written clues, scattered about the artwork of the release, and I will leave you to discover and interpret these in your own time, but the patterns continue to emerge – nature, fields, birds; musicological studies, tracing of sources, unlikely and unexpected connections; travel, geography, transport; personal and poetic names for things, such as ‘The Beast of Elham’ which is just too wonderful a name to simply be another musical instrument. Through these combined and oblique magical forces, Joynes welcomes you back into the world of the living and invites you to open your eyes and share the joy of simplicity.

Also available as a limited vinyl LP with a silkscreened cover.

1st March 2012 update: C Joynes writes to point us here and tell us “If Congo had an annotated bibliography, it’d look like these two mixtapes.”

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