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In typically perverse fashion, LPD bring their wildly prolific year to a close by burying their absolute best material on the second side of an extremely limited Italian picture disc (though it has thankfully now been made available digitally). The first half is not bad either, but the creepily phantasmagoric closer "Ghost of a Summer to Come" is one of the strongest arguments for Edward Ka-Spel's genius in recent memory.
The Curse of Marie Antoinette is a concept album in which "a reincarnated witch claims one unwary soul and traps him in another dimension," which basically means that it is more or less business as usual for Ka-Spel and company.  Legendary Pink Dots' albums are always full of strange characters and cryptic themes, so the only real difference between this album and a "normal" album is that the songs form a narrative arc of sorts.  That ambitious long-form structure takes a while to become clear though, as the album's first half is fairly straightforward by Dots standards.
It is also a bit unpromising and uneven, though not exactly disappointing, as all three pieces boast at least one idea that I like (even if that does not necessarily translate into great songs).  The opening title track, for example, is a somewhat strident and exposition-heavy bit of piano-based chamber pop that unexpectedly dissolves into dreamlike haze around the halfway part.  "Something's Burning" is another song-like piece, but it is much more understated in tone than its predecessor and a bit too slow-moving for my taste.  Most of the individual elements are likable, but there is not much to it: just a plinking percussion loop, some cacophonous noises, a quasi-operatic female vocalist, and Ka-Spel's occasionally compelling vocals.  The side then ends with the nearly 9-minute instrumental "Hallucination 33" and it is Time To Jam.  Though "Hallucination" admittedly boasts a very cool and propulsive bass line, it also features a hell of a lot of wah-wah guitar noodling, which unfortunately makes it a song that I will not be listening to again.  However, it ends in a flurry of (presumably) dimension-shredding abstract noise that is the harbinger of much better music to come.
The droning, minimal "Catwalk" opens the second half in impressively deranged and uneasy fashion, as Ka-Spel delivers a beautifully haunting monologue over a bed of space-y noises, minimal synth throb, and an insistent clacking rhythm ("keep your arms stretched wide, friend, because that big, wide world below wants to consume you...whole").  It unexpectedly ends with a rather pretty and shimmering synthesizer coda though, which segues into quite a lovely ambient soundscape ("Ballerina on a Race Paper Leaf").  The album then concludes with the tour de force of the aforementioned "Ghost of a Summer to Come," which is easily among the best of Ka-Spel's monologue/soundscape pieces.  For one, the underlying music is wonderful, sounding distant and deeply warped and providing just enough coloration make even Edward's early description of the protagonist's picnic preparations sounds disturbing.  From there, it only gets better and better, unfolding into a flawlessly executed, blackly funny. and utterly mesmerizing tale of dawning horror.
I think I have been sufficiently conditioned at this point to never expect an entirely flawless album from Legendary Pink Dots, as regular over-indulgences and misfires are inevitable when a band is in a constant state of evolution and experimentation.  The Dots come admirably close this time around though, as The Curse of Marie Antoinette is at least half of a perfect album, sustaining unwavering greatness for over 20 minutes once it truly gets rolling.  Also, I suspect that many LPD fans will enjoy the album's first half much more than I do (particularly those who do not share my extreme antipathy towards guitar solos).  In any case, Marie Antoinette delivers three wonderful new songs, one of which ("Summer") is not just essential by LPD standards, but is one of the finest pieces recorded by anyone this year.
 
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Legend has it that more than a thousand years ago King Gasil of Gaya ordered a stringed instrument to be created. Archaeology suggests that same instrument, the gayageum, may have been made even earlier. Either way, de Jaer's compositions have a quality that is both ancient and modern.
In something of a twist to expectation, this album is performed by Kim Hyunchae and Lee Hwayoung, two women young enough to have their high schools included on the sleeve notes. Their dexterous fingerwork and subtle approach to pacing and space allows them to reveal the calmness and combustion in violinist Baudouin de Jaer's compositions. Honoring a long tradition of Korean music, Gayageum Sanjo is aesthetically complex, bracing, and challenging, with a prelude and five sanjos linked to cosmological, mythological, and literary themes. The word sanjo means "scattered melodies" and the form is said to have been influenced by shamanistic music and the epic stories of the southwestern region, none of which is lost on de Jaer who spent six years composing this album.
A sense of tranquility is underlined by the 11 part section entitled "Cavitri," after Paul Verlaine's poetic tale of the woman who remained impassive for three days and nights, without moving "legs, bust, or eyelids," in order to save her husband. During this piece de Jaer also introduces percussive elements associated with Indian raga. As with "Cavitri," the titles "Earth Around The Sun," as well as "Elasticity" and "Chess Study" provide clues as to the abstraction, space, and symmetry of the music.
Gayageum may usually be strung with nylon, metal, or silk, and while I think silk strings are used in this recording, certainly Hyunchae and Hwayoung produce metallic and synthetic tones as well as an amazing range of deep, high, organic, hollowed, and thudding notes and sounds. The placid sections are not over pretty and the occasional clusters of explosive, fluttering, fingerplay are unpredictable without feeling self-indulgent. Gayageum Sanjo is a good place to retreat from the times when life can feel like a random sensory assault.
"May Oblivion, that dark and gloomy assassin, surround us,
or we be the target of Envy's bitter shafts,
Let us do as Çavitri, remain impassive,
But as she, at heart have a noble intention."
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After a surprisingly quiet year, Keiji Haino not only reignites the engines that power Fushitsusha but also forms this new trio with Stephen O’Malley and Oren Ambarchi. While I have yet to hear the new Fushitsusha album, Nazoranai hit the same spot as Haino’s most infamous group. Yawning chasms of feedback, pitch black silences and rock distilled down into its most concentrated acts of musical rebellion, this is up there with any of Haino’s best.
Beginning with a tense and sparse arrangement of Ambarchi’s rhythmic percussion, Haino (on guitar and vocals) and O’Malley (on bass) begin casting out a net of gossamer thin notes. The music is oily, pitch-black and slithers out of the speaker like a deep-sea monster. Haino’s voice runs from the urgent to the menacing within a breath as the momentum slowly builds up and up during "Feel the ultimate joy towards the resolve of pillar being shattered within you again and again and again." Pauses eclipse the music as the power grows gradually over the song’s 24-ish minutes (unfortunately split between two sides on the vinyl version). Before I know it, O’Malley and Ambarchi are ploughing through the earth with a solid, powerful rhythm as Haino sets his guitar ablaze with a screaming anti-solo that almost causes the record to give off sparks (it is times like this that I understand Haino’s compulsory sunglasses).
"Not a joy to come closer but so-called a sacred insanity has finally appeared" sees the group entering a loose, Crazy-Horse-on-downers mode; a languid bassline being torn to shreds by Haino’s torrent of serrated steel guitar playing. It honestly would not surprise me if Haino used barbed wire instead of normal guitar strings. While there is little Haino has done that I have not loved, his forays away from his Gibson SG never reach this same sort of magical intensity. It is moments like this where he reminds me that he is an absolute demon on those six strings. He strums a vaguely rhythmic motif, letting the reverberations ever so slightly feedback while O’Malley and Ambarchi circle like sharks around him.
O’Malley and Ambarchi slip free from their respective background roles to take more of the limelight during "Getting a bit blurry brush up your cartel and devote it to something;" Ambarchi pounds the drums like Jon Bonham in slow motion while O’Malley’s snarling bass scratches out a patch of ground, stalking Ambarchi like he was some kind of big game. Haino seems removed from the proceedings, creating a trilling screen of trebly tremolo guitar. The music fits perfectly with the stunning artwork of women bathing by Lars Teichmann that adorns the album’s sleeve: white feminine figures barely there on a black background.
In contrast, the final piece (with the ultra snappy title of "Not to leave everything to the light outside of you but to be aware of the prayer "what do i want to do?" that exists inside of you, and let that go out of you as a light, or things might get worse, no?") is poignant and as close as Haino has ever gotten to a torch song (he even has a hint of Marc Almond about his singing during the song’s middle section). As Haino’s voice slips in behind the music, he unleashes a breath-taking guitar solo that stays strangely close to being melodic for most of its course. It is a glorious finish to such an abrasive and beautiful album, both at odds and in keeping with what the trio have presented earlier in the album.
 
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AUN is definitely the work of Christian Fennesz, but it does have a distinctly different sensibility compared to the work he normally puts out under his surname. Rather than a suite of complex, evolving compositions, this feels more like a series of sketches, a rough draft for other works, that function just fine on their own (and obviously work well in a soundtrack context).
A quick look at the track listing makes this rather quickly apparent:15 tracks, many of which clock in at under three minutes.While Fennesz is not as prone to sprawling, epic length compositions, his work usually consists of longer pieces than this.Some of the exceptions are the three tracks carried over from his recent collaborative album with Ryuichi Sakamoto, Cendre ("Aware," "Haru," and "Trace").
It also makes sense to have these shorter, barer pieces as part of a soundtrack rather than his usual rich, nuanced compositions.There is no doubt who is responsible for this material, from the gauzy, shimmering noise of opener "Kae" to "AUN40", the latter of which's ghostly melody and fragmented tones bear his unmistakable mark, although the closing half stretches into darker, bleak lands that are a bit out of character.
That sun-faded, nostalgic sensibility of Fennesz's best work also shows up on "Nemuru," which, especially due to its building complexity in the second half of the track, would not be out of place on a traditional LP from him.The same goes for "Nympha," which balances delicate synthetic textures and untreated guitar playing.Albeit sparse, the heavily processed, bitcrushed guitar and unidentifiable sounds on the brief "Mori" sound like a brief fragment of a longer purely album-oriented Fennesz work.
It is on pieces like "Sekai" and "Himitsu" where the disc feels less like finished work.The stuttering acoustic guitar on the former song and the digitized textures on the latter are quite compelling on their own, but make up the bulk of mostly threadbare, short tracks."AUN80" is the only time where this feels like a problem:the erratic guitar and dissonant bass noises feed into an ugly, messier sound that I have not heard from him too often, and thus I would like to hear more of this approach, but alas the piece is limited to only a few minutes.
I would not be comfortable calling this a new Fennesz album, given the structure of this disc, but it is not being marketed as such.It lacks the lush complexity of an Endless Summer or Black Sea, but for those works to be used in a soundtrack capacity, I think they would draw too much attention away from the film, which should never happen.Instead this album is one that compliments visuals, but also manages work well on its own.It still comes across as more of a series of demos and sketches, but it remains a quality work nonetheless.
samples:
 
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The relationships between these four artists makes for a complex family tree on their own, and thus it makes perfect sense that there is a tangible sense of unity between these four sides of vinyl, something split releases often miss. Jeremy Lemos and Matthew Hale Clark play together in White/Light, while Ken Camden and Matt Jencik make up Kranky band Implodes. While each artist contributes very different sound material, they all complement each other quite well.
It is Hale Clark's single, 12 minute piece that is perhaps the most different from the other three."SLC Suite" is a slow build composition starting with pristine silence and sparse acoustic guitar, the rate of playing grows faster and faster, and eventually is paired with some subtle countermelodies and cymbals.It is only in the final two minutes that everything seems to lock into a full band sounding folk arrangement, before coming to its end.
On the flip side, Camden provides two pieces that differ from one another, but are unified in the use of heavily processed guitar sounds that resemble modular synths more than stringed instruments."Moisture" is all about swirling abstract tones and dissonant buzzes, going into a distinctly sci-fi feeling contribution.The following "Algoma Summer" works with the same palette of sounds, but takes a more sweeping, soundtracky approach, even throwing in some almost proggy leads into a complex, varied track.
On volume five, Lemos' work as a sound engineer is on clear display.In comparison to the pieces on the previous volume, "Out with the Old" feels much more like modernist electronic drone.Tense, shrill passages make up the darker, bleaker first half, before slowly being shredded into static swells and digital glitch outbursts, calming back down in the final moments of the 10-minute composition.
Jencik leads off his half with the subtlety titled "Conservative Fucks," a brief piece of cold, dissonant noise and reverberated static.Melodic it is not, but its full coverage of the sonic spectrum, from rumbling lows to shrill highs, make it a powerful track.The longer "Hollow Bodies" sounds like a recording or a sample of a cello played loudly through a filter, mutating the sound just enough to sound unnatural, but not overtly so.Slight increases in volume lead to a clipping type effect that, through restraint, are a compliment more than a detriment to the quieter sounds.The muted sense of sadness leads it all to have a maximialist, blasting feeling of depressive ambient music.
While superficially these four pieces and four artists sound quite different from one another, there is a tangible synergy and mood that unifies them, leading to an unexpected consistency that is usually unheard of for two split 10" releases.Folk, prog synth sounds, and digital drone normally would not work together, but here it somehow does.
samples:
- Matthew Hale Clark - "SLC Suite"
- Ken Camden - "Algoma Summer"
- Jeremy Lemos - "Out with the Old"
- Matt Jencik - "Hollow Bodies"
 
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I could never quite understood why this Portland duo were not more popular, as their dreamy Twin Peaks/early 4AD/shoegazer aesthetic always seemed pretty likable to me (if a bit over-sedate).  Curiously, however, they have dramatically changed their sound for this album, their most high-profile release to date.  I cannot quite say that their shift into quasi-choral ambient doom is entirely an improvement, given that the new lack of actual "songs" is necessarily less engaging, but the better moments are pretty damn close to being audio heroin.
This brief four-song album begins in wonderfully sublime fashion with "111," which is built almost entirely upon Barbara Kinzle's wordless, almost sacred-sounding vocals.  It is roughly akin to a monophonic hymn in the vein of Hildegard von Bingen, but Kinzle's vocal tracks harmonize uncomfortably with one another, creating an instant ominous undercurrent.  Gradually, that unease intensifies as Birch Cooper's sizzling guitar squall sneaks in to form a roiling bed that ultimately consumes the whole song in a grinding, hissing crescendo.
"River" segues out of the chaos to reset the template: Kinzle and Cooper now sing a duophonic quasi-hymn.  It does not quite reach the heights of its predecessor though, settling into a languorous rhythm of guitar noise washes and brooding synthesizers rather than catching fire.  While I always enjoy my ambient with a healthy dose of grit and sizzle, The Slaves err a bit too much on the side of noise here, losing a bit of momentum by burying the piece's more human, distinctive elements.
"The Field" cedes center stage to Kinzle's glacial minor key synthesizer swells, which I suppose kicks off the "doom" portion of the proceedings in earnest.  Unfortunately, I suspect The Slaves think the song's brooding chord progression is a lot more compelling than it actually is, as it basically unfolds for five minutes with almost no variation.  It is a bit too gloomy for my taste, but its slow pulse is weirdly hypnotic if I am in the right mood.  Also, Cooper's billowing noise blooms give it a satisfying texture and unpredictability.
The album closes with its lengthiest piece, the nearly 13-minute "Born Into Light,"which makes a welcome return to the  album's earlier choral aesthetic.  Despite its funereal pace and atmosphere, it is one of the album's strongest pieces due to its slow-burning accumulation of density.  Also, Birch's washes of distortion are a bit more erratic and meaningful than usual–sometimes they transcend mere texture and actually threaten to tear through the heavenly, melancholy fog.  I think The Slaves definitely work best when they allow their songs a long time to stretch out and unfold.  Doom cannot be rushed.
Given that it marks a significant change in sound, Spirits of the Sun is surprisingly successful.  It admittedly hits a bit of a lull in the middle, but that lull is bookended by two excellent pieces.  I especially loved the haunting "111," as it managed to nail an unusual balance between faux-sacred, vulnerably human, and barely restrained chaos. Otherwise, I think The Slaves could probably benefit by allowing some of their previous song-like tendencies to return, as it would give their music a bit more character: I definitely prefer Grey Angel and Ocean on Ocean as far as complete releases are concerned.  As far as songs are concerned, however, "111" might be the best and most promising thing that Cooper and Kinzle have ever done.
 
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2009's polarizing God is Good alienated quite a few long-time Om fans, a situation that this album is highly unlikely to remedy–it looks like Al Cisneros' fascination with sitars, strings, and tablas is here to stay.  In fact, Om has never sounded less like Om, which I find a bit troubling.  Still, Al's ambition and intensity are almost sufficient enough to make it all work.  Despite its occasionally awkward attempts at grandeur and exoticism, Advaitic Songs is ultimately a very listenable and uncharacteristically varied batch of songs.
Before I begin chronicling my myriad frustrations with this album, I think it is important to point out that I actually love Om.  I think Al Cisneros is one of the most singular and compelling people making music right now and I will probably keep buying his albums forever.  Consequently, my exasperation with Om's recent work is that of a fan trying to come to grips with some seriously puzzling artistic decisions in the midst of otherwise stellar work rather than any kind of dislike.  I want (and expect) to love each new Om album, but lately there have been some serious flaws to struggle with.
The fundamental problem with Om is that Cisneros is brilliant in a very narrow way: Om are at their best when Cisneros is simply speak-singing his impenetrable but unsettling metaphysical dispatches over a propulsive ride cymbal groove.  The essence of Om is essentially "great drums" plus "unnaturally intense frontman who sounds like prophet that just emerged from a decade in the desert."  That is all.  Any divergence from that formula is a dangerous move and Cisneros diverges a lot here.
I can certainly understand his motivation though: it is clear that Al wants to avoid repeating himself and that is very hard to do with a palette of just bass and drums.  Also, some of his new ideas are quite good, particularly the crackling mullah call to prayer that opens "Sinai."  I have also belatedly come around to embrace Om's recent use of droning synths and sitars.  Unfortunately, there are some other innovations that work less well.  For example, Kate Ramsey's guest vocals in "Addis" are certainly likable, but they cause the band to sound a lot more like Dead Can Dance than Om (a problem that is compounded by the fact that Cisneros never sings and drummer Emil Amos sticks solely to the tambourine).
Also, while I like the texture and depth provided by Advaitic Songs' rampant cellos, violins, and violas, they are employed in a way that sits a bit uncomfortably within the Om aesthetic.  The band's greatest strength has always been its eschewing of hooks and melodies in favor of achieving a heavy, trance-like groove.  Adding lengthy, melodic string passages is not necessarily the kiss of death, but they tend to go for epic majesty here, which feels overdramatic amidst such understated music.  Besides, Cisneros' ominous shamanic vocals are gripping enough on their own.  The other problem is simply that Advaitic Songs is loaded with such instrumental motifs.  Sometimes they work well, sometimes they do not, but in both cases they are diluting the essential Om-ishness of the band.  In fact, I think Amos and Cisneros only lock into their characteristic killer groove in three of the five songs (and Al only nods to his metal past by stomping his distortion pedal for two minutes of "State of Non-Return").
On a more positive note, Om are as great as ever on the rare occasions when Emil Amos gets a chance play his full kit.  I could listen to him forever and I love that these songs have enough space to make every single nuance perfectly audible.  Cisneros is in similarly peak form, unleashing wonderfully sinuous bass lines and confounding me with his usual awesomely cryptic narratives ("light trickles through the adjunct worlds, the soul galleon prevails").  There are not any sustained bits of greatness on the level of God is Good's 19-minute "Thebes," but there are a number of shorter flashes of inspiration and Advaitic Songs is ultimately a much more coherent and fully realized work than its predecessor (though it might err on the side of overwrought at times).
Despite Om's over-reaching ambition and their puzzling reluctance to get visceral, lock into extended grooves, or play to their strengths, this is actually still a pretty enjoyable effort (even if it does not always sound quite like Om because too much light trickled into the adjunct worlds of strings and tablas).  I, of course, hope that this is merely another transitional effort rather than an endpoint, but the continued evolution of Cisneros' songcraft is very promising.  And I would still much rather listen to an uneven Om album than most other bands' best work.
Samples:
 
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Ramleh and Broken Flag have seen a resurgence in the past few years, largely due to the three day Never Say When festival in the UK this past May (for which both of these releases were compiled), but also in a recent reactivation of Gary Mundy's seminal noise (and sometimes rock) project. While Mundy and current partner in crime Anthony DiFranco are moving onward with new material, these sets are an essential documentation of the band, and label’s past, as well as an often overlooked piece of early industrial culture.
Broken Flag/Vinyl-on-Demand/Harbinger Sound
Broken Flag formed in 1982, not long after Industrial Records and Come Organisation paved the way for the DIY aesthetic teamed with raw, industrial noise that would eventually be labeled Power Electronics.While the former’s partnership with Mute, and the latter's diligent work by founder William Bennett kept large chunks of their catalogs available, much of the material Mundy's label had largely disappeared, save for small, isolated chunks and occasional reissues.  These two sets give a strong reintroduction to the label, as well as an almost obsessive plunging into the first phase of Ramleh's existence.
Broken Flag:A Retrospective, originally issued in 2007 on vinyl is just that:a selection of tracks and pieces from a variety of artists associated with the label.The first disc and a half are dedicated to the Italian wing of Broken Flag:Giancarlo Toniutti, Maurizio Bianchi, and Mauthausen Orchestra (the late Pierpaolo Zoppo).Each stand on their own:Toniutti's dissonant, slightly musical synth experiments feel more structured and academic than many here, Bianchi's dour, echo drenched electronics (in the form of a long piece from the SFAG remix album, and a shorter compilation track), and Zoppo's combination of minimal textures and redlining harshness all sound unique, but are unified by a distinct sense of depression and dread.
Le Syndicat's material, culled from a compilation and the Rectal Struggle tape, sound more in-line with those early industrial projects, and the directly antecedent German power electronics scene (Genocide Organ, Tesco Industries, etc), mixing heavily distorted rhythms with feedback and pure sheets noise, most obvious on "Zirkel Children" and "The Wall."The US is represented by early noise stalwarts Controlled Bleeding, in the form of two long pieces from the Distress Signals tape.Clearly recorded before the more jazz-influenced sound took hold, the duo of Paul Lemos and Chris Moriarty throw down on two relentlessly harsh pieces, albeit with a buried hint of rhythm, metallic as well as synthetic.
Un-Kommuniti, the pre-Stereolab project from Tim Gane, appears as extracts from Mindretch, and it clearly shows hints of the more structured, musical direction he would eventually go.The diverse, synth bass driven "Destroy the Spectacle" and almost song-like "Doktrine 1" are the most complex recordings in this set, while still retaining that harsh, noisy edge.
Mundy's own work is represented in a selection of early Ramleh tracks (all of which appear on the Alive! box set), and also two tracks from his Kleistwahr alias.Neither "Myth Part 4-6" and "Fuck You All" are significantly removed from Ramleh sonically, but are more expansive and complex than the shorter material issued by his "main" band.The latter especially stands out as an endurance test of shrill tones that only relent about half way through.(I think I know where Prurient got the idea for "Roman Shower.")The only full work included is a nearly 30 minute track from Male Rape Group, their only composition "On to 83," which was a duo of Mundy and Philip Best.Due to its length and intensity, it is more in league with the likes of Merzbow or Hijokaidan than traditional power electronics, which is what makes it stand out, if for nothing else than its unadulterated brutality.
Closing the final disc is a pseudo-compilation of artists that were associated with the label, though not to the extent of others.Best's own Consumer Electronics has a painfully brief (minute and a half) submission of "Filthy Art," which not only shows he was an expert at sleazy noise as a teenager, but that his vocals have retained their intensity three decades later.Sutcliffe Jugend’s "Bloodfucking" is much more restrained sonically than its title would indicate, and is in line with their early works.The two short, strange pieces from Falx Cerebri ("Fucking World" and "Heartbeat") differ greatly, with the former being oddly percussive and bizarre, while the latter feels more like noise by the numbers.A short live performance by Vortex Campaign, Mundy's early attempts at a rock band, Toll, as well as an early track by the New Blockaders, "X-Nihilist Assault," demonstrating their proficiency at balancing pure noise and droning spaces, rounds out the set.
In an unprecedented move, the Vinyl-on-Demand label saw fit to reissue the previously vinyl only work on CD.Content-wise, it is identical (save for the limited 7" Ramleh tracks), and while the packaging is comparatively more Spartan, it still exudes quality:heavy flap-top box holding the five discs in hardback book style digipaks, and a scaled-down version of the original liner notes, complete with Mundy's commentary on the label discography.As a fan of most of the VOD label's output, I hope some of their other luxurious releases make the same transition to digital…the lower cost of both the packaging and the shipping would cause me to pick up quite a few releases.
The only weak facet of Broken Flag:A Retrospective, is that it is a mere sampling of the label’s massive discography, making wish there was more included.However, the stand-alone Ramleh box by Harbinger Sound certainly does not have that same caveat attached.
Initially a duo of Gary Mundy and Bob Strudwick, the latter replaced by Jerome Clegg not long after, Ramleh's Awake! is actually an expanded reissue of a six cassette box set released in 1985, comprising all Ramleh recordings between 1982 and then, and intended as a symbolic closure to that phase of the label.Ramleh's sound differed a lot from their contemporaries like Whitehouse in the fact that it just sounded dirty.Whitehouse records in the early 1980s were harsh and brutal, but overall had a clean, pure quality to them, compared to Ramleh's ragged, filthy noises.If Whitehouse was a sharp, steel scalpel, Mundy and company were a rusty, serrated blade.Additionally, Ramleh also had a certain psychedelic feel to them.Not quite as pronounced as later noise artists like CCCC or Astro, but a noticeable use of flanging and echo to give them a distinct edge, with an overall mood that blended the futile depression of Maurizio Bianchi with the seething rage of Whitehouse.
Many of the tracks that make up the early portions of this disc share more in common with the world of harsh noise than what is now known as power electronics, since they trade in shrill feedback layers and sustained layers of static, rather than the hinted at rhythms and structures that PE is more associated with, although the use of screamed, unintelligible vocals are a trademark of the genre.
The earlier discs in the set unsurprisingly sound the most primitive, largely recorded on a cheap home four track or in questionable live circumstances, but the material on the final two discs, recorded in a proper studio, let the essence of Ramleh shine through, and also show that the transition from power electronics to heavy drone rock was not that drastic."Backlash" and "Anything Is Mine" are the clearest examples:cleaner production and what sounds like the use of a bass guitar in addition to the feedback and synth squall give a greater sense of structure, but also the fact that Mundy's vocals are relatively clear solidifies this, since rather than just manic screaming there is some almost "singing" going on here.
The sprawl of Awake! may make it a daunting task for the average listener...not only are there ten different versions of "Phenol" (although they barely resemble one another since most are live recordings), but there is also a good deal of overlap in other places, such as the two separate live at Morden Tower recordings, one official, and one bootleg, and two separate recordings of the band’s performance at the infamous Equinox Event in 1982.However, due to this thoroughness, moments like Philip Best talking to the sound guy at the end of the Clarendon Hotel performance about how he needs to turn things up louder for Whitehouse, who were "better" in his words (although Best has been a member of both, then and more recently), and other historical curiosities.
It is also to see a band that worked in "shock" tactics owning up to that part of their history.Rather than ignoring some of the intentional fascist overtones to their work, such as the references to Eichmann's execution (the first cassette was released on the 20th anniversary of this, which took place in Ramleh, Israel) and the inclusion of the Rockwell Hate tape (where the band contributed a noise backing to a George Lincoln Rockwell taped speech, himself the head of the American Nazi Party), they present them as they were 30 years ago.Mundy makes no apology for that period, but acknowledges their intent as being the work of teenagers looking to stir up trouble, hence the imagery.
The box itself is a luxurious package: a glossy 10" box with each disc in its own digipak, a large, detailed book outlining all of the included recordings, a poster, an art print by occasional Ramleh member Philip Best, and a few buttons.A far cry from the hand-dubbed Xeroxed tapes of the original releases.However, like the original cassette box, the eight discs come in identical digipaks, meaning the only way of identifying them is the catalog numbers on the discs themselves, and the track list in the booklet.Included within the booklet also is a large selection of scanned mailing lists, gig fliers, cassette artwork, articles/interviews (including two long form pieces by Paul Lemos), and some original hand-written lyrics from Mundy.
As far as historical documentation goes, the Ramleh/Broken Flag scene has gone from an extremely sparse footnote to a rich history within the span of a year or so:preceding these two boxes, and the UK festival, was a massive feature in the first (and currently only) issue of As Loud As Possible, providing an even further reaching commentary on both the releases and projects covered.All three combined makes for a comprehensive snapshot on what was a criminally underrated piece of noise history.
Hopefully this resurgence will continue on with newer Ramleh recordings, both of the power electronics and rock variety.Actually, blending the two projects has also demonstrated some great potential:the first part of the final track on 2009's Valediction album melded the two styles to wonderful effect.For the uninitiated, the Broken Flag Retrospective is probably the more welcoming introduction, as Awake! is so sprawling and obsessive in its thoroughness.However, it is for that reason that it is such an effective document, and proudly sits alongside the Incapacitants Box is Stupid and Hijokaidan The Noise sets in my collection as brilliant collections that emphasize the artistic side of a genre many refuse to acknowledge.
samples (Broken Flag: An Anthology):
- Controlled Bleeding - "Only Obeyed Orders"
- Un-Kommuniti - "Destroy The Spectacle"
- The New Blockaders - "X-Nihilist Assault"
samples (Ramleh - Awake!):
 
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Following up an already impressive album (the self-released CDR and cassette reissued II) is never an easy feat, but Chicago's Sun Splitter have done just that. Continuing their doom metal/rock/industrial hybrid sound with an even greater level of polish, as well as going a bit more experimental at times, the sequel may even surpass the predecessor.
Sun Splitter's debut managed to encapsulate all of the things I enjoy about heavy metal music (sludgy, memorable riffs, an appropriately dark atmosphere), without much emphasis on the stuff I have never been fond of (overwrought cookie monster vocals, trite blasphemy, etc).They continue that approach here, and continuing to use a stiff drum machine that hints at the brilliance of early Godflesh without sounding like an intentional copy.
"The Serpent’s Gold Death" exemplifies this, and does a wonderful job at encapsulating the album as a whole:opening with weird, mangled sounds, it does not take long before a bass heavy low-end guitar riff kicks the door in, with a metronomic drum machine along for the ride.While the vocals show up later on, they are both so heavily processed to be nearly unrecognizable, and low enough in the mix to compliment, rather than dominate the rest of the instrumentation.
"Eye of Jupiter" trades in similar wares, with its immediate feedback and stuttering kick drum, but with relatively clean guitar tone that hints at the best of '70s hard rock balancing out the harshness.Between this, constantly evolving guitar sounds, and a bit of organ, the track shows more variety in six minutes than most bands do for an entire album, but each segment flows nicely into the next, not coming across like rough jump cuts or forced changes.
It is on the two longer pieces that the band goes for some more experimental sounds and changes."Parasitic Machine" starts out with a simple mechanical rhythm and diverse guitar lines, locking into a steadier groove than the preceding "Eye of Jupiter", but not in a dull fashion.At about the halfway point, the heaviness falls away into cold, frigid lands of ambience.The piece slowly builds back up, but never gets to the intensity that it began with.
"Two Cold Oceans" takes a more dramatic approach:slowly building up from a calm, organ driven opening, it quickly locks into a doomy, but propulsive rhythm.As it builds upon itself, it eventually launches into a full on cacophony with only the vestiges of guitar identifiable.The piece then collapses, closing the album with echoed voices and mutilated loops.
III keeps Sun Splitter's unique take on metal to its next logical stage.Sticking with the catchy riffs and machine beats that work so well, but adding in an even more prominent focus on abstract textures and dissonant distortion makes for an extremely powerful album, one that shows there is little chance of these guys succumbing to the stagnant repetition that so many lesser metal bands fall prey to.
samples:
 
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All Is Number
Chances are you didn't get one of the 100 copies of this album thatwere released back in 2002. Now that it has been re-released, you'llwant to go out and grab it as soon as possible. Yes, Bailiff'smelancholy and hallucinogenic streams of sound are ever-present and yesher voice is as angelic as ever, moving softly beneath the pluck ofacoustic guitars and amps filled with enough reverb to shake thewindows right out of the wall. What's different from her work is whatJesse Edwards, of Red Morning Chorus, brings to the table.
As far as Bailiff's last, eponymous release goes, there was a definite emphasis on repeating, overlapping structures and simple, melodic themes. Though never feeling stagnant, the pull of her repetitive chords and buzzing music was deceptively complex: the simplicity of the album was a huge part of its beautiful success. Seeing how the Northern Song Dynasty record was developed in the time leading up to that album, I'm surprised to find how much that emphasis is minimized.
From the second that "The Disappearance of Patrick Phillip" begins, it's fairly obvious that there's more waiting in the wings. The indefinite, hovering weight that the Northern Song Dynasty emulates is a compliment between Bailiff's ethereal approach and what must be Edwards' love for cerebral and hypnotic songcraft. There are repeating motifs and longing guitar work scattered throughout the record, they feel more restricted, however. The songs are tighter somehow, because whether or not a definite chorus or verse ever makes an appearance on the record, it feels like each leaves its mark. Where Bailiff's music progressed in subtle movements, Northern Song Dynasty announces its paradigms and slips into them with trumpets hailing the metamorphosis.
Edwards' voice is exciting, too, his low, humming style of singing harmonizes with Bailiff's voice effortlessly. When they sing together and heavily distorted guitars begin to buzz away behind them, it's as though they're trying to slip into the track unnoticed and make an escape, trying to make the music swallow them whole even as they spin the music together. When the music is stripped bare, leaving almost nothing but a voice and a guitar, Bailiff seems to stand out more often. It is on the heavy, electric outings that Edwards shines. As the songs move back and forth between each other, how well these two work together really begins to show and the whole album becomes a cohesive and shining work almost as though the whole thing was a magic trick. Despite being released in October, the album is entirely appropriate for the winter. Not because it is cold or particularly festive, but because it is a radiantly warm set of songs. This is the other significant difference between Bailiff's solo work and her collaborative efforts: her last album sounded very bleak at times, almost romantically resigned to a quiet suffering, but this sounds joyful, sometimes exuberant. "Those Days" almost pops out of the speakers at points when trails of celestial guitar funkiness spiral out of it like comets. Not to say there aren't sad moments or even heart aching ones, but it is the happy songs that stick out most for me and seem to pull the most weight on the album.
If you've never heard Jessica Bailiff or Jesse Edwards' work, then this might actually be the best place to start. The balance between desperation and happiness on this album might make it more attractive to some who have approached either's work and found it akin to reading Sylvia Plath. After enough exposure, neither sounds particularly cold and the subtle magic they both work on this record will permeate everything, making whatever darker themes are present seem less important than the sonic brilliance demonstrated in their work.
samples:
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Faraway Press
Vega is the brightest star in the constellation Lyra; it'd be easy to make some vacuum of space reference when talking about Andrew Chalk's music, but it wouldn't be very helpful or insightful. There are plenty of opinions that'll make every drone record sound the same because, apparently, they all have the same focus. All of them imitate the feeling of floating weightlessly, of being taken somewhere else and it is because they provide little context for the average listener to hold onto while navigating the often beat-less, melody-less grooves of whatever record it at stake. Well, if all of them sound the same, how is it that Chalk always sounds unique?
There are two answers.
The first one, the short one, is that the genre actually doesn't lend itself to homogeneity: it is more prone to being consistently different than just about any other genre barring noise. The other answer, the interesting one, is that Chalk steps a bit differently, proceeds with his sound in a fulfilling fashion, and somehow works with his sound more like a composer than anyone else. I can imagine him toying with his sounds like they're clay, shaping them to make an architecture or to plan an entire geographic region. Every release Chalk has seems to produce this same effect, this sense of a musician as sculptor.
Vega opens up a space without a doubt, but the feeling it produces is like sound trying to find its borders. As the album begins the entire sound is bathed in a kind of blind stupor, sounds traveling aimlessly for minutes at a time before the distinct impression of a bell is made clear. As the record progresses over its three movements, the overall structure of the album becomes more acute despite being composed of broad strokes and impressionistic stabs of sound.
The most change occurs in tone, however, elevating the album from a tomb-like sound to the hum of the open air. Conceptually the whole album sounds like a liberation from architecture and a step away from the tight, always very centered sound that Chalk employs. Whatever the case, Vega has that static and rolling sound in its first half and then slowly dissolves, revealing a subterranean process that might've been working throughout the whole album.
Once the mood lightens up, Chalk moves into new territory for me. None of what I've heard by him, even his work in Mirror, has ever sounded this free and random. He manages to maintain a hint of the thematic developed early in the album but slowly moves away from it until, at the very end, a completely new dynamic has emerged. The album is, for a time, tightly wound and dependent upon itself for tension, but the release generated at the end is almost vertiginous in its upward movement. There's a double effect taking place for the duration of the record, then. The sounds on the album become more obvious and take a definite shape throughout the whole album, even as the tone lightens up and the structure of the album becomes more indefinite and effervescent. It's hard to imagine but amazing to hear.
This is a change for Chalk, though, and it's a subtle step he's taken away from his earlier solo recordings. I imagine fuller and more extreme transitions are on the way.
samples:
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