Opening And Closing Its Gigantic Doors
- "The Moon To Poolesville"
Here's one you might not read about in Arthur
. Even in this boom time for unapologetic aural weirdness, this amorphous Cincinnati "fringe rock" band doesn't get much notice - a Google search pulls up a threadbare Allmusic listing, a shite "Wicca folk" page with a bunch of dead links, a few WFMU
playlists and not a whole lot else. If anyone knows anything about this band that cannot be thus divined, please bend my ear. It would make me very happy.
I copped Blacklight Braille's Seachange
CD in 1995. My erstwhile employer
was gutting its music library, and the arcane track titles, long playing times and Corwood-level graphics caught my interest. Later, I wrote the band's mysterious Vetco label a longhand note, and received a Corwood-level gift of plastic and vinyl in return.
No arching description quite serves; if it's possible to chart the shifts in Blacklight Braille's lineup or the chronology of its vast catalogue, none has yet taken a swing. To paraphrase one of the few articles I could find, the "Fringe Rock" descriptor means it ain't quite rock, but it's definitely not anything else. If anything has kept the Braille from breaking into underground rock word-of-mouth, I'm guessing it's the consistently sleek production, which fosters a creepiness not of the sort that VU-weaned distortion-heads like.
This one, from the Carmarthen
LP, spotlights the recitation of one Owen Knight, a then 60-something poet who taps into a different sort of Arthurian tradition. Years ago, I had the pleasure of speaking with Knight over the phone. I wonder if he's even still alive now.