Craig Klein sat hunched over a piano deep in thought smoking a bent cigarette as I walked into his apartment. Baked brie and reefer hung in the air. I don’t recall what we spoke about once he tore himself from his piano (this was years ago in college), but I never forgot the feeling of his presence; warm yet dire, like much of his music. And you want to be around it, cause it feels good, like putting on an old, tight leather jacket, bare chested.

Each record Klein puts out is different from the next, drastically so with the forthcoming Exiles, but that same presence is always there. In an industry filled with overnight facades and Auto-Tune overproduction that’s the mark of a real artist. He has wonderful collaborators in his band, The Race, but the songs are undeniably his.

Exiles is a departure as stark as any he’s made, and though it has some sonic similarities to the last record 07’s Ice Station, it is a world away from the clean melancholy sound of 06′s If You Can. We talked about the influence of Violator era Depeche Mode which rides like a boozed up posse across the whole record. “A kind of sleazy Western Biblical vibe.  Dudes in leather in the desert singing about Jesus and sex,” Klein reflected.

Old fans may be disoriented upon first hearing the “808 drum machines …blown out guitars and call and response vocals.” Likewise, those who got used to putting The Race and Radiohead albums on shuffle together and forgetting which was which will be surprised. This is a whole new thing. Electronic, but filthy, a touch goth.

One of the stand outs, “Ride the High Country,” a piece of pop genius from the forthcoming release is a kind of 80′s grounded “judeo-goth-western,” Klein obsessed. It’s title is “stolen from a Peckinpah western,” a director and genre (along with some Sci-Fi) that seems to inform the songwriting on Exiles.

When it gets to the part where it feels like you’re flying across the desert in a Delorean with The Wild Bunch, David Gahan, and Jesus, swing by and pick me the fuck up.

Looks like Exiles arrives early August on Secretly Canadian’s vinyl/digital partner, St. Ives.

“Severed Ways” is Black Metal, crafted into an audacious movie between the hammer of an HD camera and the anvil of director Tony Stone’s wild musings.

PS.

The offical word on the tunes: “This soundtrack will blow your dick off – Morbid Angel, Popul Vuh, Burzum, Brian Eno, Dimmu Borgir (early stuff), QOTSA, and Judas fuckin Priest!!!”

so there.

As part of a personal, ongoing investigation of the mysteries of this universe, spirituality and all a matters ineffable, I recently consulted with a Medium (one who channels communication from the spirit world). At the end of a long, strange session where I asked broad questions about the energies that surround and influence us, I asked about my friends. It was mostly broad responses about being overly empathetic and how I tend to from strong but sometimes overly dependent bonds with friends.

The Medium honed in to Daniel and how I first met him (spiritually speaking) on a U-boat serving in the Deutschland Kriegsmarine off the coast of Morocco in 1939. It’s harrowing tale of wartime adventure, Casablancan intrigue, and Mediterranean women. It makes sense cause we both like Aryans and tough nautical sweaters.

Most importantly, Daniel showed me that I didn’t need to mercilessly dominate others just to feel good (not in ’39, but a few months ago). He probably has something to show you too.

Daniel is an inspiration and all round good guy. He is a man among legions of hopeless noobs, in these hapless times. He is a beacon of love, white light and music. Of good times and better costume design. A lighthouse by which you may steer your crippled ship home.

Dig Daniel’s born to be nervous if you ain’t already.

The first time I saw Tunde he was opening up for The Fall with a very early, laptop heavy incarnation of TV on the Radio.  He’s been blowing my mind ever since.

Dig this chat about acting, our national preoccupation or lack thereof of “race,” his passion for cartooning, and yes, music.