JLK

Well, I didn’t see this one coming. JLK’s various solo tapes on Hobo Cult were always highlights for the label, but they sounded nothing like this. While there’s still vague hints of the deconstructo-gonzo-blues that JLK scrawled on those tapes, her debut as JLK & The Assassins (a band consisting of Christian Richer (Haiduks, Element Kuuda, etc), Einar Jullum, & Jack Deming) is another beast entirely. Desert rock? Hell yeah. If the world is a just place (haaaaa), this would be huge. I have no idea when or where Tempestuous is out, but check out four tracks below. - The isolatarium

From the super highway of Eamon Quinn:

JLK & Babysitter’s second collaborative release is every bit as gleeful as their first outing. This cassette documents the Victorian trio’s trip down the rabbit hole as they and Jane L. Kasowicz wiled away a productive unofficial 2013 Montreal summer residency bein’ illegal and developing a third eye revision of their sound. If previous releases showed off the group’s lurching Bonehead Crushin’ chops, even during the most song-oriented moments (“Super highway”, “Fur rust ray shone”), II appears to hitch that vibe onto the cracked avant-garage of more emotionally-varied no-fi psych like Photograph Burns or, even more accurately, Cyborgs Revisited.

The rarest hear-it-to-believe-it takes, for my money, are on the spookier end of the affair. Here, JLK’s voice is a standout: a downright chilling presence over the percussion-led unmade monster movie soundtrack “Humans are hard” or in her disembodied blues vocalizations on the way-gone lunar boogie of “A homeless man kissed my face”. And finally, recalling the Haino / Fushitsusha school of world-embracing psych, the twin weepy balladeering guitars of album closer “All saints down” tunnel like two divining rods towards eerie, dizzying six-string excess. Nothing is left in its wake but the hope they’ve got their own Double Live in the works. Already sold out at the source, so look out for the upcoming reissue courtesy of Pleasence. - Weird Canada

Reviewed by Jack Derricourt

It’s kind of like Jake the Snake Roberts and George the Animal Steele dancing in a ballroom. Yes I’m talking about music. Wild, revelational, hairy Canadian music.
In one corner stands the dirtiest, grittiest pop band to come out of Victoria, BC. Recent releases by Babysitter display the band’s commitment to keeping it weird, as they refuse to be buried in the coffin of lo-fi, two minute conformity (see Tape 666 for details). In the other corner, JLK, the hard and heavy psych-devyser from Montreal. Jane L. Kasowicz, as she’s also known, has been tending to crafty segments of rock and roll like few other solo artists out there — but she’s not afraid to team up for a powerful collaboration from time to time (as evidenced by her work with Velvet Chrome).
Babysitter and JLK have mixed it up before, but the new release is a significant shift in oddity and quantity. While the first partnership showcased songs with weirdness piled on,II is much more captivating in its dedication to experimental sounds.
Melodies on the record sound like they rush out from the necks of gin bottles, while the creeping drums and bass float away in the background of the tracks, disembodied from the rhyming chaos that drives the pieces. “Super Highway” displays this tumultuous style perfectly: it doesn’t have static pieces of instrumentation so much as it has guest appearances by scraps of melody and tones.
The tongue-in-cheek, mindless chord fidgeting displayed on “I’m Not Going to Get Nostalgic” is another high point. Moans and whammying guitars form a seance of experimental field music, and distance the work from any sort of quantifiable sonic structure. The music obscures itself as it progresses. Music concrete also makes for a wonderful coda.
While the lyrics don’t take centre stage in this messy wasteland, they have their moments. The balance of the vocals within the track “A Homeless Man Kissed My Face” is fantastic. When Jane sings “Don’t Want to Compromise My Soul,” the single voice splits into an echoing litany, then breaks apart, then reforms, submerged and mournful.

It might appear cheap to throw it out there, but II feels like a Tom Waits revival without any smugness. When I first heard the album, I could only picture the looks of bedazzled glee on the faces of its creators and the bewildered what’s-he-building-in-there gazes of passersby. It’s a home brew of intoxicating delight, which might gain an interesting level of influence if played on four separate stereos at once, but settle for the single player device and you won’t be disappointed.

Top Tracks: “A Homeless Man Kissed My Face” ; “I’m Not Going to Get Nostalgic”
Rating: Proud Hoot (Really Good) - Gray Owl Point

From the citric acid flashback of Jesse Locke:

Paisley rays of avant-pop sunshine emanate from this overflowing homage to the Age of Aquarius. Montreal’s best and brightest contribute a tune (or two, or three) under a variety of guises, all filed under psych, cosmic and library music taxonomy. From Brave Radar’s hazy afternoon bliss-outs to JLK’s biker blaze and multiple turns from label founder Christian Richer, this meticulous mixtape is a tie-dye dream come true. All in all, Asaël Robitaille steals the show and proves his secret weapon status with a grip of winners from his various projects. Wake up sucking on a lemon with a grin from ear to ear. - Weird Canade