In the year 2000, the
Wire
magazine picked this spaced out gem from Native American folksinger and activist
Buffy Sainte-Marie
as one the "100 Albums That Set the World on Fire." Released in 1969, and now on CD, as of 2001, it was reissued as an import on 180 gram vinyl with its original glorious artwork and package. Interestingly enough, it's a record
Sainte-Marie
doesn't even list on her discography on her website. It doesn't matter whether she cares for it or not, of course, because
Illuminations
is as prophetic a record as the first album by
Can
or the psychedelic work of
John Martin
on
Solid Air
. For starters, all of the sounds with the exception of a lead guitar on one track and a rhythm section employed on three of the last four selections are completely synthesized from the voice and guitar of
herself. There are tracks whose vocals are completely electronically altered and seem to come from the ether -- check out
"Mary"
and
"Better to Find Out for Yourself"
as a sample. But the track
"Adam,"
with its distorted bassline and
throwing her voice all over the mix in a tale of
Adam
's fall and his realization -- too late -- that he could have lived forever, is a spooky, wondrous tune as full of magic as it is mystery and electronic innovation. The songs here, while clearly written, are open form structures that, despite their brevity (the longest cut here is under four minutes), break down the barriers between
folk
music,
rock
,
pop
, European
avant-garde
music and Native American styles (this is some of the same territory
Tim Buckley
explores on
Lorca
Starsailor
). It's not a synthesis in any way, but a completely different mode of travel. This is poetry as musical tapestry and music as mythopoetic sonic landscape; the weirdness on this disc is over-exaggerated in comparison to its poetic beauty. It's
gothic
in temperament, for that time anyway, but it speaks to issues and affairs of the heart that are only now beginning to be addressed with any sort of constancy -- check out the opener
"God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot"
or the syncopated
blues
wail in
"Suffer the Children"
or the arpeggiated synthesized lyrics of
"The Vampire."
When the guitars begin their wail and drone on
"The Angel,"
the whole record lifts off into such a heavenly space that
Hans Joachim Rodelius
must have heard it back in the day, because he uses those chords, in the same order and dynamic sense, so often in his own music. Some may be put off by
's dramatic delivery, but that's their loss; this music comes from the heart -- and even space has a heart, you know. One listen to the depth of love expressed on
"The Angel"
should level even the crustiest cynic in his chair. Combine this with the shriek, moan, and pure-lust wail of
"With You, Honey"
"He's a Keeper of the Fire"
-- you can hear where
conceived (read: stole) the entirety of
Greetings From LA
from, and
Diamanda Galas
figured out how to move across octaves so quickly. The disc closes with the
classic
"Poppies,"
the most tripped out, operatic, druggily beautiful medieval
ballad
ever
psychedelically
sung. That an album like
can continue to offer pleasure 32 years after it was recorded is no surprise given its quality; that it can continue to mystify, move, and baffle listeners is what makes it a treasure that is still ahead of its time. ~ Thom Jurek