Soul Coughing
B-Sides, Rarities and Live Cuts

THE REVIEW

- Truly incredible and practically indescribable music, unless one considers plausible the idea of a meeting in a third-rate club in the most opium-laden New York between Eric Dolphy and the Karate, that bastard Mingus accompanied by enlightened Morphine on the road to Damascus of a jazz metamorphosing into funk, bringing Gil Scott-Heron along. And even then, it doesn’t come close to describing them... seeing them live was a force of nature. – truly, one can hardly ever contradict sir soulman.

Thanks to some evening chats, I've returned to the usual soul coughing cloud for a few days now; as they say, deep slacker jazz, where deep is the funk, slacker is the mood, and jazz is sugarfree*; B-Sides, Rarities and Live Cuts is a compilation I've seen online over the years, skimming through the long roll, picking from the mellifluous B-sides of singles and odd rarities among soundtracks and best ofs; unfortunately, such beauty does not exist on any physical, live, or vivid medium; and I repeat, unfortunately, because if you talk about them with even a simple - and voluminous - handful of b-sides, it would easily become a masterpiece album; but when I get the chance, I talk about them as my beloved ones, I might go overboard with opinions and I allow myself to use the best of cover with a smile.

The fundamental characteristic of their trajectories perhaps lies in the indomitable grooves that only these four wily musicians have managed to idealize; sometimes entirely extemporaneous sound snippets on a persistent base of intense funk, where often the mood is noir and slips into the shadows as in 212; even previously heard riffs astonish, creating wind with a sneeze and continuously reassembling rhythm and melody; he talks and talks, repeats, repeats smoke sense sense smoke smoke, and it's always nice to find the most disparate intersections, like mechanized electronics on the aching steps of Lemon Lime, one of the best pieces here for me, with startling lyrics where words dance and essentially do not sing, a metaphorical rap that directs the orchestra where the double bass resembles a double-door wardrobe; I must say, we like them even as a cover band, these soul coffee; and then Jaaaaniiiiinee I driiink you up, LOUDLOUDLOUD**

Whether it's a seductive floozy or a picturesque binge, the cartoonish movements leave the imagination wide open, but in a deformed manner and with that sense of the grotesque similar to Primus, always on different geometries compared to the very first; what has form is consistently disproportionate, post-modern art in a gallery of the native city that never sleeps; the arrangements are ungainly, the sound within the intricate tracks is minimal, and in the essentiality of the embellishments are the samples that fill every void; as I see/hear it, no Mark no coughing, see the current sir Doughty.

Although it is heterogeneous music, tracks picked apart over the years even if kept together cannot maintain a linearity of sound and approach, but here they remain united by the interesting structures throughout their career; a sparse style, with a formula written on a thin carbon paper making it difficult to take inspiration without tracing them too much; this is where for me music has managed to be truly incredible, no one like them.

- tracks

(*) sugarfreejazz
(**) excerpt from Live From The 9:30 Club In Washington, D.C. On October 25, 1998, the live set can be found in its entirety on Rolling, the last single; highly recommended, but why even mention it...