Full Disclosure was a radio show hosted by Luke Brocki and Amanda Bell broadcasting cutting-edge music every Thursday night on CJMP 90.1 FM. Although the hosts have recently moved out of Powell River, Full Disclosure lives on in the form of CD reviews in this ongoing column authored by the (now defunct) show’s hosts.

The Pack
Tintype
(2007)

It was after midnight on that cozy strip of Vancouver’s Cambie Street that lies nestled between Gastown and Skid Row and two ladies were blowing the roof off Pub 340 with drum volleys and vocals so hot, raw and overtone-rich they’d wake Janis Joplin from the dead if her body hadn’t been burned and ashes scattered into the Pacific Ocean.
Citing Blind Willie Johnson and the American Civil War as influences, this duo blows through 17 tracks on Tintype, an unforgettable, whiskey-soaked-deal-with-the-devil blues romp that raises the bar for today’s garage revival.
Serve with: Leadbelly, Jimi Hendrix, Black Keys

LCD Soundsystem
Sound of Silver
(March 2007)

James Murphy, now the driving force behind New York’s red-hot LCD Soundsystem and co-founder of dance-punk haven DFA Records, spent the 90s in obscurity, playing in aggressive, post-hardcore bands after passing on a chance to write for Seinfeld. He recently traded his guitars for turntables and quickly became one of the coolest people on the planet, with an enviable 75,000 friends on MySpace. He follows the success of his 2005 debut with Sound of Silver, a sleek mashup of punk, disco and electronica equally suitable for the couch and the dance floor.
Serve with: Talking Heads, The Rapture

The Can
Monster Movie
(1969)
This gripping debut by Krautrockers Can is a staple of German experimental music of the late 60s. Grounded in garage rock, Can soon ventured into unknown territory, experimenting with blues, acid rock psychedelia and world music, creating their sound through free improvisation and tape edits.

The album’s final track, “Yoo Doo Right”, is especially engaging. It pounds for 20 minutes as a tribal-rhythm mantra edited down from a six-hour improvisation, its lyrics portentous of original singer Malcolm Mooney’s eventual psychological meltdown. And check out the faceless Galactus on the cover. Brilliant.
Serve with: Kraftwerk, Velvet Underground, Zu