Brisbane's improvisor extraordinaires, The Lost Domain, have been launching sonic missives into the stratosphere for almost 20 years now. These guys were blitzing the path well-travelled by Jackie-O Motherfucker and No Neck Blues Band, before either group even existed. In Australia, they know how to play the blues. Maybe it's in the water, or maybe it blows in from the ocean, but one listen to The Lost Domain's "White Man at the Door," and there's no denying it: these motherfuckers can play the blues.
"White Man at the Door" follows the legendary Shytone "Dead Set," a compendium of pre-war inspired clssics compiled by Lost Domain mainman, John Henry Calvinist (aka David Mac Kinnon), and much beloved by none other than John Fahey. These six tracks are like nothing else the group has released. Ragtime Frank (aka Simon Ellaby) puts in the vocal performance of a lifetime as he extracts songs like "In My Time of Dying" and "Frankie & Albert" from deep inside his bones. Over an archaic bed of acoustic instrumentation and junkyard percussion, Ellaby belts out gut-wrenching line after gut-wrenching line. It will bring listeners to their knees.
The pre-war inspirations behind these tracks are obvious, but the execution and emotion is 100% authentic. "White Man at the Door" is a lost relic. It's like something found in a dusty corner of the Library of Congress, begging to be rediscovered. This is the kind of album that most bands only dream of making. It is pure, whiskey-addled perfection.
tracklist:
1. in my time of dying
2. boll weevil
3. pearline (audio sample)
4. charmin' betsy
5. frankie & albert
6. two trains running
Press for The Lost Domain:
"The coasts of Brisbane, Australia have washed up in the flotsam and jetsam avant ensemble The Lost Domain. Despite being in existence since the late ‘80s, this joint release between labels in Oklahoma and Sweden is the nearest they have yet come to a wider audience. More’s the pity, because Sailor, Home from the Sea, drawn from live recordings made in Brisbane in 2004, is a magnificent suite of nautical dreamtime musings worthy of considerable attention. The multiple psuedonymous members create soundscapes imbued with a taut lethargy, the ceaseless yearning drift of an exiled consciousness forged on the meeting of the endlessness of the ocean and the vastness of the outback. These sublime visions look out to the water, and the sailor’s communion in their own insignificance, becalmed and beleaguered drones hinting at the depths while simultaneously squinting sunblinded at the sky’s glare. The bookening “(On) The Waterfront, Parts 1 & 2” impress the most, the incrementally building drone carrying the muttered, rambling, vocal, an urgent voice overwhelmed and suffocated, urging “I can’t stand the smell of the house no more” and longing for release in the fathoms of the sea." - from The Wire issue 252
"Deftly setting themselves alongside No Neck Blues Band's best moments of fractured electronics and noise / jazz leanings, The Lost Domain strike a chord that few can." - Fakejazz
"This is a subtle, nuanced and deeply rewarding listening experience." - Dream Magazine
"Finally our thoughts return to other thing, the mundane and trivial tasks that define our days, we know we must leave this place and re-connect with the world we live in, but, just for a moment, we realise that there is more to life than we ever think, and we rejoice in the fact that The Lost Remains can help us find a quiet place to go." - Ptolemaic Terrascope