Lungfish – Indivisible


Confession time. I wasn’t always a Lungfish fan. The story goes as such, a friend of mine was selling CD’s she wasn’t into and part of that stack included Indivisible by Lungfish. I asked if I could take it home and listen to it and if I was into it, she said I could have it for a few bucks. I went home, dropped the disc into my player and sat back confused at the weird “art” music that was being made. I managed to listen to all of it, annoyed at the number of instrumentals and backwards interludes and decided that it wasn’t for me. I returned the disc, none to politely, remarking that this “art rock bullshit” was what was wrong with music in the mid to late 90’s.

The only thing that was wrong was my filter. I saw Lungfish open up for Fugazi a few years later and was still off put but curious. Sometime after the release of Artificial Horizon was I turned in to Lungfish. I became obsessive. I desperately searched the bins of the used record stores I went to in search of their albums.

I don’t remember the chronology of when I re-discovered Indivisible. It was not one of the albums referred to me (most people seem to think Sound in Time is their masterpiece in my experience) by the many people I obsessively talked to about this band. But at one point I did stumble upon this album and remembered the dark, depressive, artless cover. It sat in my hands like a cold stone, shifting my comfort. I would have to confront this album, my past judgements against what I had built. I was afraid everything would come unwound and my new devotion would be for not.

Chronology is also a problem with these reissues. On the one hand, some of my favorites have already hit the shelves in my home. But its hard to go back and contextualize these superior presentations with the CD’s I have from the past. And as Indivisible can easily be seen as a the mid-point in the Lungfish output, it’s difficult to feel honestly without referencing other records (something I have tried to avoid since Dischord began this project).

As it stands, Indivisible is my personal favorite Lungfish album, it’s weirdness intact even amongst a most esoteric band. The album is cold and seemingly lifeless. It has musical tones not unlike Joy Division, but it’s also when Dan Higgs starts losing grasp with the reality the rest of us know. Yet it’s not the space and time re-con mission that Artificial Horizons would be or the mind origami give in Unanimous Hour. Instead, Indivisible was kind of subdued.

This album always was subtle, a collection of Lungfish ballads, if ever Lungfish were to write a ballad (they did, a few times actually, they are quite beautiful). But there was almost something old world about this album. Though it hits at all the points a Lungfish album should, it sounded and felt like it was made in another time. There was nothing contemporary about Indivisible. It doesn’t sound like anything anyone was doing at the time.

It remains, to my ears one of the most repetitious albums to date. Filled with lots soundscapes (“e=fu” and “William Fuld” named after the Baltimore native who launched the Oujia board into a household name) these atmospheric breaks make the other tracks stand out more. Anchored by “Tick Tock” and song reminiscent of Joy Division’s “Digital”, where in the concept of time leaves us and we are left frustrated, Lungfish created something wholly new and different. But fuck if that song also doesn’t have a groove, the verse and chorus only separated by Mitch Feldstein’s change in the beat. But rather than follow this up with something powerful and rocking Lungfish fall into another odd instrumental jam “Cut To Fit The Mouth”, where a layer of toy Casio piano sits harshly over a quite little jam. The album is quite frantic, manic-depressive maybe, like Wish by The Cure, but in Lungfish’s unique pallet.

Of all there albums, Indivisible is probably the Baltimore quartet’s most inconsistent. Never finding that groove and layered with way out sound escapades, Indivisible is not an easy listen, despite a band that is pulling back. Here we find Lungfish experimenting. After establishing their own sound, Indivisible finds the band stepping back and playing around. Much of what they would produce would weaves its way quietly into their songs later on. The white noise, the piano plunks, the use of space in different ways. Indivisible took context and twisted it, making it a turning point in an unpredictable career.


Lungfish – Talking Songs For Walking

Talking Songs For Walking
Dischord Records

Sitting down this morning, no coffee, cobwebs in my eyes, a pit in my stomach and too much already on my mind, listening to Lungfish’s second album, Talking Songs For Walking, I am truly hearing it for the first time. This was back when Lungfish was raw and still sort of resembled a basic band. In fact as “Kissing” rings out as I write this, I see just how pedestrian of a band Lungfish was in their infancy. Yes, the beginnings of their own style were emerging, but it was still soaked so thoroughly in that DC energy, reminiscent of the mighty Rites of Spring, the gritty Ignition and the pummeling of early Fugazi. The repetition or hypnosis doesn’t feel so pronounced here in their infancy (though it’s certainly there).

What is great about these reissues of all these Lungfish albums is that we get to reconsider them. During their height I was a Compact Disc addict. I rarely bought vinyl and it hasn’t been until recently that I have succumbed to the mp3 hoarding nature prevalent among us nerds and assholes. My interaction with Talking Songs for Walking was on CD and thus also included their debut Necklace of Heads in one, very long package. The distinction between the two were not always easy to find. But now as Dischord remasters these great albums, I am compelled to take the time and sit here with Talking Songs for Walking.

A true rock record, the spit and sour of punk rock rests firmly in the veins of this band. John Chriest, the original bassist is most pronounced here, driving the songs into sonic fury where soon the band would step back into a more hypnotic groove. But here, the band is typical in giving just ten songs, but they shave a good ten minutes off the running time. It is only now I realize how economical Talking Songs for Walking was. Confined and compressed by speed, the band delivers a true rock record, made in their own recipe.

As Lungfish is presented here with more urgency, the same riff patterns from our man Asa Osbourne that normally sooth and calm the beast suddenly become more feet shuffling and fist pounding. Here, Lungfish is more of a war cry then a meditative om. It isn’t until we reach the lovely “Put Your Hand In My Hand” that the band slows down to the laid back groove they would become known for. And yet somehow, Asa lets the main riff rule space, somehow showing a complex dynamic. This song also has one of the most dynamic bridges that Lungfish has ever written. In fact, all over  this album moments of great change can be found, making this a rather unique entry into the known Lungfish canon.

We also get a young Dan Higgs, more poetic with his words, not quite embracing the bombastic military bark he would become known for. At this point he was more beat poet than psychic head trip, telling odd ball stories. I am immersed for the first time in the song “Descender”, delivered in a slacker cool that Higgs seemed to embody but never project later on. The weirdness is there, but the crazy hadn’t quite emerged. It’s an interesting contrast, a band known for being relatively laid back (in theory, not always in practice) and a front man being “out there”, Talking Songs For Walking gives us a rather subdued Higgs. Of course, what the remaster does is give us a better presentation of some of the accompanying vocal work, hinting at the bark and yell we would later find.

Unfortunately, the remaster process isn’t all kind. The deficiencies in the recording, obviously caught in the trends of the day unfortunately resonate more. The bass is muted and the drums sound far too treated, an insult to Chriest and drummer Mitch Feldstein, but unfortunately this was par for the course back then. More labor intensive and possibly even unattainable, a treatment of the original masters, stripping down the added effects and giving the bass it’s proper due might make for a powerful re-imagining. This is the first time a remaster does very little to bring forward the nuances and instead shows the deficiencies more.

To this guy though, that doesn’t matter. I am happy to have a second look at my favorite band once again (this was also remastered in conjunction with Indivisible, this writers favorite Lungfish album which we will write about very soon) especially the earlier part of the catalog I have not spent as much time with. It’s nice to find a Lungfish that was once interested in kicking faces in with some foot stomping rock instead of tearing them off with hypnotic, esoteric leanings. As Dischord continues this project, and hopefully unleashes more from the vaults like A.C.R 1999, us fans and devoted “dum dums” can find more nuance. For me, it reminds me to listen to music. To pay more attention and consume less. I can assure you for weeks, maybe months I will be entrenched in Lungfish.

Lungfish – A.C.R 1999 (less a review than an angry letter to Pitchfork)

A.C.R 1999
Dischord Records

The following rant is a letter I wrote in response to Pitchfork regarding their review of this album. It’s not my best work, nor the review I wanted to write for this record. It’s not my best work because I was really upset when I wrote this. I could expand on this for HOURS and HOURS, but any regular readers I have already hate me, I’m not in the mood, nor do I have the energy to get in too many more fights. I am presenting it here more for historical rather than editorial purposes. As I noted, I was once blocked from sending further emails to the editor because I got in a fight with him about The Pupils album review. I also sent nasty letters in defense of Lungfish and Q and Not U then too that mimic the tone of this. Unfortunately I sent them from an email address I no longer have access to. So I wanted to keep this for posterity reasons. If a response is made and I see it, I will post it too. But I doubt it will, because they are  bunch of cowards at Pitchfork.

Editor in Chief Ryan Schreiber once blocked me for lambasting your moronic site over a review of The Pupils, a band that consisted of Dan Higgs and Asa Osbourne of Lungfish. He actually blocked my emails from commenting on work done at Pitchfork. That action by Mr. Sensitive is the reason I don’t wonder why Pitchfork doesn’t have comments sections on the site. Because he is afraid of having the content picked apart by people who might actually know more about the music the site covers then the hand-picked hipsters he has writing for him. Marc Master’s review of the new Lungfish release is deplorable. It’s clear to me that he has never really listened to Lungfish, nor devoted himself to the band the way hundreds of us, mostly from Washington DC and Baltimore, have. Falling for the impulse to compare ACR 1999 to the later recorded and released Necrophones is the kind of failure one would expect from a journalist who only reads one sheets. I wonder if he even owned any Lungfish albums prior to being assigned ACR for review.

Having seen Lungfish no less than 15 times between 1996 and 2005 and the band never broke a sweat, but for one time at the Black Cat when the lights beat relentlessly on Dan Higgs balding head. The reason this never happened, is because this band was a fucking machine, more intent on meditation than ripping off faces. They didn’t destroy audiences, they transported them. They SILENCED them, not through the visceral violence of rock buffoonery, but through the cutting wall of sound that swept people away. They stood back (Higgs aside, who is a mad man) and let the music do the talking. Marc, clearly did not get the opportunity to see them, or else he would know this. 

I haven’t personally listened to Necrophones since ACR arrived at my door. But I remember that album completely. It is their Adult Contemporary Lungfish style album, and it’s really great the way they played with their own sonic elements and vocabulary the way only Lungfish could. And while the songs on ACR later recorded on Necrophones are familiar, they are essentially different songs. The blueprints evolved and were remade in a way only Lungfish could have done. What Marc fails to understand is that you don’t divide the Lungfish discography by comparing and contrasting, you take it in and absorb it as a whole. Because it is one, long, beautiful narrative. ACR is less an album than a sketch book. And I can assure you many of these sketch books exist in the archives of Ian Mackaye’s Arlington home. I know, because he told me. He told me because he could see in me that like himself, I was a devotee, that I understood, that I was forever changed in a scary way, by the band Lungfish. ACR is not cannon, it is a building block. And as with everything Lungfish did, it’s better than ANYTHING anyone or any weak ass band has ever done. 

So please, STOP. Not just poorly reviewing the music of Osborurne and Higgs, et al. But stop publishing anything. It’s clear you haven’t learned since The Pupils record how to actually write about music, a daunting and difficult task to be sure. But you have FAILED. Time and time again, you have failed to understand the power of music. Not just of Lungfish, but of anyone. You treat it like a commodity with some kind of cultural value, but you FAIL to see its true power, it’s true meaning. For that, you should be ashamed.

Skull Defekts – Peer Amid

Skull Defekts
Peer Amid
Thrill Jockey

There are two lines from two other musical groups that sound nothing like Skull Defekts that I am reminded of when I listen to them. One is by Ed Hammel, better known as Hammel on Trial when he says “Ride the Wild Lightening.” The other is by The Thermals. “Here’s Your Future” seems an apt description for these Scandinavian men and their new, adopted Baltimore Vocalist Dan  Higgs.

I’m really tired at the moment. See, I bought a coffee maker, coffee and sugar. I even bought a coffee cup, but I forgot to buy coffee filters. I didn’t realize this until late in the game on Monday when I bought it. Also, it’s really dry in Albuquerque and I keep waking up with bloody noses. Listening to Peer Amid, again, for like the hundredth time since I acquired it a few weeks ago is a practice of insanity. The album opens with the title track, which is this 8+ minute psyche/new wave/noise/rock jam. It’s all jimbo jangles, with lots of crossing noises and it seems like it’s trying to scratch out important parts of my cerebral cortex. It doesn’t help that THE MAN ON THE MIC himself, Mr. Dan Higgs is, once again rocking the way that only Dan Higgs can. And I mean rocking in a very non-literal, non-linear, non-traditional way. It’s not even being a rock singer what Dan Higgs does. I don’t know what it is. It’s mostly intimidating and scary, but he’s never sounded better. Truly, and I love Lungfish, and the work he did in that band, but Skull Defekts is upbeat and moving.

Second Track: “No More Always” and Higgs is all singing, “Nobody,Nothing, Nowhere, No More” over and over again and the feeble aspects that are barely holding my brain together, mostly against there will agree. Maybe I should just take some peyote, drive out towards Las Cruces and let the final freak out I am pretty sure is coming come on and take me. There’s total, untuned surf rock guitar riffs. Very treble full tones and colors in the guitars totally separate Skull Defekts from every one else. It’s reminiscent of the clean guitar tones on early PJ Harvey albums. The drums are all tribal, filled with lots of rack and floor toms and the cymbals are subdued in the mix, not overpowering everything else and letting the buzzing of the guitar strings fill that space more fully. You don’t hear that very much.

Every now and then these Defekt boys toss in the odd, unlabored, rando sound too that just skates over your mind. Maybe I shouldn’t be listening to this album on the headphones. I mean, that’s the practice I think works best for me and one I have been ignoring for a few weeks. But I was up late last night and didn’t want to disturb the neighbors. But now, it just seems like rather than being transmitted into my inner ear, the music is being expelled from my mind’s eye, that pesky organ I try to ignore so much. It’s a total “what the fuck” kind of existence as I remind myself of this album, to bring you, the dear and faithful readers all the information, once again in personalized, non-sensical and non-informative form. But take my word for it, weird isn’t the adjective, unimaginable is. And yet this music is filled with imagination and determination and precision. Which makes it both feel loose, cutting and precise all at once. You add Dan Higgs to the vocal microphone to spread his other dimensional wisdom and you get one amazing work of art.

My Disco – Little Joy

My Disco
Little Joy
Temporary Residence, LTD.

Dudes, I’m not gonna lie to you, cuz that’s not my style. I accidentally zoned out today and it’s because of the new My Disco album Little Joy. Seriously, I was all productive this morning, I started writing some fiction. Then I went and had breakfast and did some reading. Came home from carbohydrate overload, opened the windows, did some more writing, talked to my Dad, did more writing, talked to my Mom, got in the car, bought a t-shirt and listened to this new, amazing and awesome album. I returned home, the intention was, after utilizing some of the awesome information I got from the lovely Matie at Self Serve about free speech politics, the radical sex positive community and the music scene in Albuquerque, I was gonna write some more of the weird, possibly good, hopefully funny science fiction I decided I needed to try my hand at. I plugged in the iPod, dialed up this album again and thought it would be awesome.

But honestly, I am in a trance. My Disco has always been known to be rhythmic and hypnotic, but generally the music was jarred by piercing guitar. Their last album Paradise, which I didn’t even know existed for like a year, was a total head trip of odd repetition, spliced, dead pan lyrics, totally gut slicing guitars and all around noise confusion. I dug that record. My Disco creates their own musical language, based somewhat in the same vein as Shellac or Lungfish (yes, my heroes) but with sprinkles of Sonic Youth, Unwound and even a little My Bloody Valentine. Their last album felt more like a cut and paste mosaic of the approach they took on their fabulous debut, Cancer which created an interesting, but difficult record to listen to.

Little Joy gets epic. There are two songs that cover time lines that exceed the eight minute mark. For a person with a low attention span, it’s a fairly incredible feat that My Disco somehow manages to engage the brain functions that enjoy music. But they totally do. Sometimes they have long stretches of musical phrases that don’t change. Sometimes they have this really fantastic drum beat influenced by the same types of music that the Supersystem dudes were into, that this uneducated blogger can only assume is of the Fela Kuti vein. The hits are totally precise, exciting and perfectly executed. Drummer Roberto Luongo, who is the backbone of funk for My Disco, some how keeps the minimalist bass playing of vocalist/bassist Liam Andrews and the screeching, neurotic guitar work of Ben Andrews together as a cohesive movement of music, all the while utilizing space to stretch out and play all the drums in his kit.

Couple my love of this band with the fact that the album was recorded at Electric Audio in Chicago last year and you realize that this is gonna totally own my mind. It’s kept my attention pretty thoroughly and has garnered many repeat listens in the few short hours that I have had this music. That says something, structurally precise, made of intense, sharp patterns but played at extended lengths, Little Joy should border on monotonous. Given to the fact that when Liam Andrews and Luongo lock in together in a minimalist jam, it can kind of get maddening. The wailing, bright guitar tones, as sinister as they are, do not overshadow the locked groove that’s created. Further, one would think that the build ups created after so much time would segue into some kind of sonic explosion. By rather, My Disco chooses to have a small bang that resonates more in the absence rather  than the expression.

Music can complement a geography, and though I never found that in the crowded suburbs of Washington DC, driving about the vast and spacious city of Albuquerque, I have found relatively great musical compliments to the landscape that entices my visual stimulants. My Disco, whom even I understate in my own outwardly tastes, is one of the fantastic bands that help saturate and explode the senses I have in this new environment. Little Joy was unexpected, especially after the jarring Paradise, but it has been received with great pleasure into my musical lexicon, providing heightened drama to story I find myself in.

In case you were wondering this is a backwards image of the T-Shirt I purchased at Self Serve today. Pornutopia was supposed to be a celebration of human sexuality featuring films, burlesque and other performances by and for the adult population of Albuquerque, New Mexico. When I was apartment hunting out here in November, I caught wind through the Savage Love Podcast that the City of Albuquerque’s council members utilized obtuse wording in zoning laws that essentially made it impossible for the organizers (of which Self Serve was one of) and performers to put on this show. Self Serve and the performers even went so far as to attempt to placate the local government by censoring the show, in an attempt to meet the guidelines sighted in the local laws. This did not work and they opted to pull the plug all together. You can read more about it on their blog here. Further, I have decided to get involved and will be attending the City Council Meeting tonight where  CUFFS will be speaking. I hope to dedicate more space on this blog to such topics. It’s something I’ve wanted to write about and explore more but found difficult to find the right community in which to be involved in. Albuquerque on this front, seems to have both a unifying, direct and local political action to fight for, and appears to have a more laid back and welcoming sex positive community then I generally found in polarized, over-educated DC. We shall see.

Japan Has a Skyline

Temporary Residence

There are just certain bands that slowly evolve over time, creating this seamless musical narrative that is almost impossible to extrapolate the subtle changes that occurs between albums and songs. Lungfish of course is the most obvious of these bands. They are often accused of writing the same song over and over again, but the changes over time are enormous between Necklace of Heads and Ferrel Hymns. The Post Rock genre is filled with bands of this nature. It seems on the surface that Explosions in the Sky sounded the same when they started as they do now. But clearly, careful examination of the sounds presented shows evolution. Much the way changes in animals and the surface of planets happens slowly, almost without notice. Japanese rock band Envy has such a sonic template that matures with that kind of care and preservation.

Recitation finds Envy four years later since their insane Insomniac Doze which was an album filled with epic movements. In that time they have released two mind bending splits with emo darlings Thursday and the sonic death drone of Jesu in that time.  The music from both those splits was pretty outstanding and played chronologically, made for a pretty solid set of music. Recitation however, finds the band once again in the throes of change.

Any fan of Envy will find themselves in pretty familiar territory. There are crushing explosions of hardcore/metal inspired breakdowns to be sure, and the cool, crisp clean guitar playing that defines the band. You will get the beautiful and the aggressive sides of Envy. But this is an Envy that feels pretty constrained. Each of their divergent movements are not built slowly, but instead the changes come rapidly and more drastically. “Last Hours of Eternity” which follows soft album opener ” Guidance” displays that typical Envy build that ends with a brilliant drum decadence, it’s haunting, the way we love Envy. But some songs just feel constricted, like “Piece of the Moon I Weave” or “Light and Solitude” where the changes come without warning and seem to end with the same type of violence. It’s very difficult to find out where Envy is going or where they want to be with Recitation.

The part of Envy that I love most, and this is very ignorant of me, is the vocals. Sung purely in Japanese, it becomes this new and unfamiliar layer. For the untrained, unlearned ear, the vocals become a true instrumental. It’s a bit shitty to put it this way, seeing as they make perfect sense to anyone who knows the language, but without that confusion, it is a unique layer of music added to fabric already weaved by the instruments.

You aren’t going to hear any band that sounds like Envy. They have their contemporaries sure, but none of them sound nearly as distinct and intense as Envy. None of them have the vocals Envy has employed over a nearly 20 year career. None of them are going to have the international recognition and devoted fan base. Recitation may not be Envy’s greatest work to date, nor its most exploratory or experimental. But it’s in a language that can be understood and enjoyed by any fan. Considering too that it’s more compact than any other release prior, it’s possible it will bring in more fans. If you are a long time supporter, definitely through your favorite track from this record on mix cd’s for your friends. It’s totally gonna change their day.

Lungfish – Pass & Stow

Pass and Stow (reissue)

The economy is fucked, and I can tell by one litmus test. Dischord Records is not releasing new bands. Look, there are a plethora of new bands in DC that they could be putting out that totally fit the mold. Give pay homage to Dag Nasty and Swiz and all those mid eighties bands. Body Cop are just out of their fucking minds insane. Cephalopods are fronted by one time Dischord Alumni Hugh McElroy and make most bands look like a fucking joke. And then there is Imperial China who make most of the Dischord bands of yester-years look like a joke. If the music industry was kind and Ian was paying me to A&R while he was busy wearing old t-shirts and hanging out with his kid, those are the four bands I would sign to usher in the new wave of DC’s once again awesome and diverse scene. But the reality is, Dischord is a modest label, operating in a time when modesty doesn’t get you shit because all your fucking loyal fans turned out to be thieving assholes. So, in order to stay afloat, Dischord has turned largely to their back catalog and the archives.

Earlier this year we got a remastered version of the classic Jawbox album For Your Own Special Sweatheart (which I didn’t buy on vinyl and feel kind of stupid for that, but whatever). I’m not a huge fan of the remix/remaster versions of things. I mean, technology can make albums sound better, but sometimes, I just don’t want that original taken from me. But in the case of Jawbox, I knew it would be awesome and it was. But also, I just don’t really want to replace my entire record collection. Sure, an updated mix of Red Medicine and even In on the Kill Taker might, MIGHT be kind of awesome, I just don’t have the cash flow to repurchase albums I already own. But there is an exception to be made, and that comes in the form of anything and everything by Lungfish.

I have it on good word that there are no other immediate plans to reissue any of the other Lungfish albums anytime soon. This makes sense, because a lot of those records were re-cut early at the turn of the century. However, Pass and Stow getting refaced is pretty  phenomenal. Any reader of this blog is well aware of my love, near obsession with Lungfish. I am a part of a cultish group that deeply loves this band. They are not for everyone. They seem, on the surface weird and off-putting. They do not seem intricate at all. Hell, on first listen, I wasn’t a fan either. It just sounded like a bunch of art school weirdo’s. But over time I began to understand that Lungfish were one of the greatest bands of all time (how often do I have to say that shit) and I think I pretty much consumed their entire back catalog in about eight weeks back in 2000.

Pass and Stow, well, I’ve always loved this album. It is a the face of Lungfish between two worlds. Prior, they released some pretty straight forward albums that made sense on the Dischord roster. Pass and Stow however showcases a cerebral band on the cusp of a cosmic overdrive. This is the foundation for everything that came later. Listening to “The Trap Gets Set” foreshadows so much of Artificial Horizons but it’s ballad like in its subtle beauty. That it is followed by “Computer” where Astral Higgs clanks “On the one hand you’ve got the law/on the other hand you’ve got the law” as the treble cuts and the bass and drums march along is a foundation of the sonic destruction the band performed throughout.  And of course “Evidence” a song that made legions of Lungfish fans feel they were on a different temporal path gets no better. If ever they were to have a “hit” that would be it.

So is it worth forking over the money to buy albums I already own? Damn right it is. The remastering job on this record is fantastic. The album maintains it’s integrity. Nothing gets pushed around and remodeled. But the bass is so much richer, reminiscent of their live sound and paying a great tribute to original bassist John Chriest’s work with the band. Other performances that I have never heard, including buried vocals by Higgs are also clearer. The instruments are separated nicely and no longer sit on top of each other. I listened to both versions today, and the reworking is the clear winner.

A few months ago I got to talk to Ian MacKaye, Dischord founder and curator. Of all the things I have ever wanted to ask him, he graciously talked about Lungfish with me. He did so no so much out of politeness, but because he is first and foremost a fan, probably their biggest fan. I was given a peek inside their history during our chat. The band still gets along and never really “broke up”, Ian, like us is hopeful they will play again one day, and there are many songs the public has never heard. It’s possible we may hear these one day, but even with their label, the mysterious Lungfish gives up very few of it’s secrets, holding close their magical powers. Pass and Stow is a pinnacle in music history. The word underrated is so often applied to so many pedestrian musical groups. So many bands that get this label do not have the range, volume, unique sensibilities and the pure drive to make their own art. Lungfish created music. They were just four dudes with the most basic rock instruments. But so many have tried to describe them, and no one has succeeded. I won’t even try, because I know I can’t. They were a band, unlike anything, speaking their own language and doing nothing more than making the music that they made. Pass and Stow, renewed now with a sonic clarity is deserving of this band and this album. As a fan for life, I am very grateful.

This is the best stuff that the internet has to offer that I have found about the band. I urge you to become immersed. produced this.
Arlie Carstens of the criminally unknown Seattle band Juno wrote this.
Questionable Content artist Jeph Jaques had a blog and some dude wrote this.
This is from a blog called Dreamflesh.

AND if you can find them, I highly recommend the Punk Planet interview they did as well as Jessica Hopper’s column she wrote about stalking Dan Higgs one winter. A story she never finished. Seriously, weak.