(Kathodik) Una delizia di nastro che sbanda con humour genuinamente freak “Superstar”. Tra evidenze fingerpicking e yodel di Appalachi, col fiato lungo di chi al modello base non si attiene e azzarda (Snakefinger / Johnny Dowd), pesto di funk e blues di quello sognato fra gli altri da: Harry Partch / Kathleen Brennan / Tom Waits, con spigolature classico/minimaliste, leggerezza da cocktail in disastro e in un paio di occasioni, accenti da rock desertico/immobile, Velvet dronante. Registrato fra New York e Detroit con un bel giro di musicisti locali (chi ha memoria, lo ricorderà come leader degli avant-jazz / post-rock (noise), Larval). Nella calura che tutto scompone, a dir poco ottimo. - Marco Carcasi
(Chronogram) Let me say, as a musician, record producer, and longtime feisty rock critic, putting out a cassette album in 2018 is silly, a hipster attention grab for all the wrong reasons. Good lord, stop. Having said that, if one was to do so, guitarist Bill Brovold's Superstar would be the right one to put out. It harks back to the homemade cassette culture of the '80s with a series of instrumental pieces—not quite jams, but some not quite compositions either—that veer from circus-like ("Coney Island") to dreamy ("Growth of the Soil"), from organ skronk ("Kid with the Flu") to guitar sweetness ("The Long Walk"). It's always interesting, if occasionally vexing. When Brovold, a Rhys Chatham mate, joins with horns (supplied by Johnny Evans and Gustav Brovold) on the nearly 10-minute, suite-like "Absent Friends," the effect is lovely in a meditative yet barrelhouse free jazz way. Dub one! - Michael Eck
(Cassette Gods) The Spaghetti-Western-turn’d-peyote-dust’d-Carnie-After-Party that is Bill Brovold’s “Superstar” is undeniable. Air-tight, contrapuntal rhythms thriving independently without referencing one another under lock-step grooves that gracefully distract from BB’s between-the-notes virtuosic LUTHIERY, plus, butter-as-smoothe executions of every. single. stringed/skinned. instrument. made/given… Despite being infectiously danceable, it’s easy to see why Eh? Records would pick up such an irreverently executed series of studied jamz: their freakish nonchalance expertly yields infinite kinetic interpretations that are…staggering. Dead-in-the-tracks inspiring. Mayhaps I’ll rephrase: without passing into any mantric, ceremonial mood, Bill Brovold’s “Superstar” says two things in two million different ways: Get Concertedly Active. Stay Concertedly Weird. - Jacob An Kittenplan
(Chain D.L.K.) I was unfamiliar with Brovold’s work, either solo or as part of the band Larval, so this would be my introduction. The tape opens with a child talking and an adult replying, “OK, Star. Take it away.” Where Star takes us is to a nice, slow funky groove, but it’s just a bit off. Like if The Residents decided to cover a funk band (the album that I never knew I needed until now). As with most tape releases of this sort, the tracks sort of blend into each other, with subtle shifts in style and tempo giving the sense of change. Some tracks are more straightforward jazzy pieces, while others tweak things ever so slightly with some pitch shifting here and there. Touches of ragtime and blues peek through on some tracks, keeping things interesting. Some of the standout tracks for me are “Lost in the Fog,” a slow, plodding guitar number with raw, jangly percussion and cymbals that sound like sheet metal. In this piece the repetitiveness of the guitar really works and provides an air of hopelessness and desperation. The other would be “Absent Friends,” which opens with a hint of dissonance before morphing into a peaceful, almost meditative composition. Overall, this was a solid tape with some interesting themes and solid tracks. I have to admit that it didn’t really go crazy like a lot of the stuff that I have heard from this label. Still, it was a good time, and if you like jazzy experimental, this would certainly be worth checking out. - Eskaton
