20 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

The third release from musician and DJ Melissa Guion was recorded largely in her home, with only limited studio time, and is truly a step forward from her earlier releases. Where 2018’s Precious Systems had heavy emphasis on ethereal moodiness, Sour Cherry Bell delivers a bigger punch, one that is more forceful and up-front — raw power. The release is filled with dark synthesizers and demanding drum machines, balanced by airy, angelic vocals and atmospheric soundscapes for a moody and dreamy effect that suggests movement: mental, emotional, and physical. This quickly became a 2020 album of the year for me.

Kranky

Layered with cascading sounds, awash with reverb and modulated vocals, Guion crafts emotionally charged soundscapes that come from a place of heartfelt experience. The music reinforces a sense of open space, both of expansive landscapes, as well as the clubs and dance floors that used to be active pre-pandemic.

Looking forward post-pandemic, if I were to pick this album off the shelves, I would expect written notes from DJs to span a wide gamut, beginning with "The Steelyard:" ‘cold, dreamy, heavy, persistent drum machine.’ But reading further, the notes ‘moody, dreamy, ethereal -- let’s get lost!’ written elegantly next to "FM Secure" suggest this is not music exclusive to the dancefloor. Inky scrawlings next to "Sourbell" read ‘crushingly emotive vocals, driving beat’ while below, scribbled next to closing track "Petrechoria" reads ‘somber, sparse, dark, dearmy.’

My first listen to "Quiet Time" suggested a feeling of ocean waves crashing to the shore, pulling back in retreat, then returning to crash on the beach again. The track starts off with a throbbing and metallic synth beat into an entirely pulsating rhythm akin to powerful waves, pulling back and softening about halfway and allowing Guion’s airy vocals to be lost in the mix — only to have the music shift about halfway and return forcefully with a vengeance, reinforcing a forceful return. Hurricanes are a common occurrence in New Orleans, and Guion has noted that the song reflects the eye of the hurricane, the retreat of the onslaught and the destruction that comes after. Both interpretations offer the sense of movement that may be expected from this album.

New Orleans is known for many things, but not for a burgeoning scene of electronic music. There are a couple electronic names that come to mind: Telefon Tel Aviv being the most well-known, and the less well-known (but personal favorite of mine) Marker, who tours as part of her live band. Sour Cherry Bell is worthy of recognition, and with such a strong showing may prove to change New Orleans' standing in that genre. This is a welcome release for 2020, and I can’t wait to see what else MJ Guider has in store.

Sound samples may be heard here.

20 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

Superior Viaduct's Ike Yard reissue campaign continues (and presumably ends) with this, the band's woefully underheard debut EP. Night After Night was recorded shortly after the band formed and was originally released on Belgium's Les Disques Du Crépuscule back in 1981. It has never been reissued before now, which means that it was never actually available domestically (except as an import) during Ike Yard's brief initial lifespan. That is unfortunate, as it is objectively one of the better releases to emerge from NYC's No Wave scene, even if it was completely eclipsed by Ike Yard's classic full-length a year later. The difference between the two releases is quite an interesting and significant one, as Night After Night feels like the work of an actual human band with recognizable instruments rather than an audacious feat of stark, alienating production. On one level, the transformation between the two releases calls to mind pre-Martin Hannett Warsaw versus the iconic post-Hannett Joy Division, but the aesthetic itself is closer to a Public Image Ltd. homage by people who thought Jah Wobble and Keith Levene's parts were the only bits worth saving.

Superior Viaduct

It is fitting that I already mentioned Joy Division, as Peter Hook once saved an Ike Yard show at the Ukrainian National Home by stepping in as a replacement soundman (the venue's own soundman was completely ruining the simmering subtlety of their sound).According to Stuart Argabright, the soundman had made it clear that he hated their band, yet I can easily imagine that achieving Ike Yard's aesthetic of thick bass, buried vocals, hallucinatory guitar and synth textures, and austere, dub-inspired drumming in a live setting would be an exasperating challenge for anyone (particularly for someone unfamiliar with the band's vision).Without the right balance of clarity, space, and visceral bass rumble, it is not hard to imagine Ike Yard's unconventional songs falling completely flat, as they are more of a thoughtful, precarious architecture of complementary textures than anything that would pass for conventional music (melodies and hooks were very much anathema to the Ike Yard vision).Predictably, bassist Kenny Compton was already the star of the show even at this early stage, as his propulsive riffing is the bedrock of everything on Night After Night, though Argabright's unusual, minimalist percussion played quite a significant role in shaping these songs too.That is especially true on the opening title piece, which is essentially just a driving bass line, a thumping kick drum groove, and a deadpan monologue from Argabright.That said, the contributions of guitarist Michael Diekmann and Fred Szymanski (synth) are considerably more prominent on this EP than they are the full-length.Admittedly, neither quite brings a unique voice to the opening salvo, but their playing gets significantly more compelling as the EP unfolds.

Obviously, I cannot fault Ike Yard for evolving into a considerably more distinctive and minimalist entity by the time they recorded their album for Factory, but it is worth noting that Night After Night's "Sense of Male" could easily have been the inspiration for a similarly great alternate direction.In it, the focus is shifted away from Compton's bass line and onto snarls of guitar noise and eruptions of warped, siren-like synths.As such, it feels significantly more colorful and explosive than the seething, monochromatic fare to come, though Argabright's austere, off-kilter percussion remains as unconventional as ever.Similarly stellar is "Motiv," which marries a thick, biting bass groove with burbling synth tones that call to mind a hallucinatory jungle scene.Admittedly, "Motiv" lacks vocals, so it perhaps does not qualify as a fully formed song, but it is nevertheless an extremely appealing vamp.Argabright returns to the microphone for a strong closer though, as "Cherish" combines his bloodless, elliptical vocals with an insistent bass groove, slashes of guitar noise, and a chirping tour de force of unusual synth flourishes.That makes for a collision of aesthetics not commonly found elsewhere, approximating some sort of deep, fragmented psychedelia equally informed by industrial music and Jamaican dub.While I am not sure it quite scales the same impressive heights as the earlier "Sense of Male," "Cherish" is an illustrative example of Ike Yard was such a singular entity: they were obviously listening to much cooler music than most of their peers and had an uncanny knack for assimilating disparate influences in appealing new ways.I suspect they probably had some very cool non-musical inspirations as well, given how dramatically and quickly they evolved.

Obviously, plenty of merely good or somewhat unusual releases are hailed as newly crucial "lost classics" these days, but Night After Night is the rare exception that has arguably earned such high praise.There is an asterix though, as this EP went largely unheard upon its release, then was rendered nearly irrelevant by the full-length that followed.If Night After Night had had been better distributed and reached more ears in the US and UK during that brief window, I suspect most post-punk fans would have been playing it in heavy rotation along with their Gang of Four, Cabaret Voltaire, and Joy Division records, as it features a strong batch of songs and the band's stark, brutalist, and post-apocalyptic broken funk was (and is) unique and visceral.Night-era Ike Yard were still a bit ahead of their time, of course, but they nevertheless sounded more or less like a good post-punk band comfortably within the bounds of the zeitgeist (perhaps akin to a menacing, subversive mirror-world version of A Certain Ratio).It is hard to imagine how Ike Yard's career might have unfolded if they had stayed on that track, but the exceptional thing about Ike Yard is that they almost immediately jumped onto an even more fascinating and almost post-human vision with their LP, leaving Night After Night in a strange no-man's land in which it suddenly resembled the Peel Sessions for a better album by a better band rather than a great, stand-alone debut in its own right.It deserved a better fate than that.At least it will now find itself in heavy rotation in my life four decades later as a somewhat Pyrrhic example of delayed cosmic justice.Obviously, if I could only have one Ike Yard album, it would still be the self-titled LP, but it is damn nice to now be able to alternate that with its almost-as-good predecessor.

Samples can be found here.

20 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

It has been three years since this eclectic duo last released a proper full-length, though they have released a few fitfully intriguing cassettes in the interim. While I enjoyed the looser, more abstract side of the project showcased on last year's Science Religion, it did not quite build upon the incredible promise of Frequency is the New Ecstasy's incredible "Astodaan." That particular piece suggested that Téléplasmiste might someday deserve their own place in the illustrious Coil/Cyclobe continuum of heavy, occult-tinged, post-industrial psychedelia, though neither Mark Pilkington or Michael J. York are exactly starving for underground cred (Pilkington runs Strange Attractor Press and York was briefly a touring member of Coil). The twist is that the two artists make for a pair every bit as curious and improbable as Golden Retriever, as York's expertise in bagpipes and other wind instruments is hardly common as a guiding force in the post-industrial milieu and Pilkington is not exactly a conventional musician himself. In the context of Téléplasmiste, however, the pair tend to focus on combining heady synth drones and eerie, ritualistic pipes to evoke something akin to a portal to an altered state of consciousness. Occasionally their more bubbly kosmische side rubs me the wrong way, but the lion's share of this album is both wonderful and mesmerizing.

House of Mythology

In keeping with the project's founding principal of "deep awareness and respect for prior esoteric traditions and counterculture currents," To Kiss Earth Goodbye borrows its cover art from 20th century spirit painter Ethel Le Rossignol.In fact, Le Rossignol's work also provides the title for the woozy reverie of the album's second piece ("A Goodly Company").Elsewhere, Pilkington and York incorporate "a previously unheard trance recording of occultist Alex Sanders (the UK's "King of the Witches") into the album's best piece.Such arcane inspirations are obviously de rigueur for the man behind Strange Attractor Press and admirably quite far outside the current zeitgeist, yet they do not at all manifest themselves in the expected ways, which makes To Kiss Earth Goodbye a sometimes perplexing release.While the hypnotic and hallucinatory Sanders piece ("An Unexpected Visit") is absolutely sublime and sounds plucked from a great unreleased Coil album, many of the album's other pieces fall much closer to current experimental music trends than their esoteric pedigree might suggest.I suspect that is likely due to the pair's shared passion for vintage synthesizers though, as the duo have described their two Fenix II semi-modular synths as "the heart of the Téléplasmiste sound" in the past.As a result, it is not particularly surprising that this project objectively shares more aesthetic ground with classic Tangerine Dream than it does with timeless, otherworldly visions from the spirit realm (the pair are saddled with vintage earthbound tools rather than extra-dimensional ones).That is neither good nor bad, but there are some other artists more who are a bit successful at pulling back the veil to reveal an unearthly, phantasmagoric vista.There are not, however, many other artists who can rival Téléplasmiste at their best when it comes to crafting mesmerizing and psychotropic synthscapes.On To Kiss Earth Goodbye, only "An Unexpected Visit" fully captures the duo at the sustained height of their powers, but several other pieces contain some wonderfully sublime (if ephemeral) passages.

I suspect the success of "An Unexpected Visit" lies at least partially in the...ahem...unexpected visit from Sanders' voice, which adds a compelling additional layer to Pilkington and York's squirming and quivering synth melodies.Sometimes, however, the duo’s synth themes are unusual enough to stand on their own as something special and unique.I am especially fond of the burbling and lilting "A Boy Called Conjuror," which arguably resembles a woozy, time-stretched calliope intertwined with a winding pipe melody and floating, dreamlike flutes.Moreover, it strikes an evocative balance between "unsettling" and "pretty," resembling a surreal blurring together of "slow-motion folk dance" and "carnival that conceals a dark secret."Elsewhere, "Possessors of the Orb" is another highlight, as its gently fluttering ambient idyll gradually builds into an impressive crescendo of majestic-sounding bagpipes and gnarled electronics.The epic title piece is yet another second-tier highlight, slowly building from a languorous reverie of slow-moving drones into a haunting juggernaut of eerie pipes and heaving masses of dense synth tones.The album's bookends, on the other hand, feel more like an intro and an outro rather than fully formed pieces in their own right, but the opening "Come! Vehicles of Light" does contain some heavenly moments of transcendent inspiration (especially its initial theme, which calls to mind a gently swaying dreamscape of shimmering crystal chimes).

I feel quite safe in proclaiming that there will never be another Coil, as the X factor of Jhonn Balance's unique and creatively restless persona is absolutely impossible to replicate (though Alex Sanders unintentionally provides an amusingly passable Balance impression from beyond the grave in "An Unexpected Visit").As far as Coil's like-minded descendants are concerned, however, I enjoy this project almost as much as I enjoy Cyclobe.Moreover, the two projects absolutely belong together in the same sentence, as they are arguably the light and dark variations of a similarly otherworldly trip: if I want to astrally project myself into a shadow realm of dark ritual and seething menace, I could not choose a better guide than Cyclobe.If, however, I instead want to visit a sun-dappled, warm, and impressionist altered state instead, I will reach for a Téléplasmiste album.I still wind up in a haunted, mysterious, and alien place, but the ghosts at least seem like comparatively well-meaning ones.Aside from that, I genuinely appreciate Téléplasmiste's approach to synthesizers, as Pilkington and York clearly had a strong and focused vision first, then sought out the tools that would enable them to best realize it (as opposed to letting the tools themselves shape the vision).I suspect a lot of the details on To Kiss Earth Goodbye will be missed by casual listeners (or appreciated only unconsciously) as the overall spell is quite a vivid and beguiling one, but Earth is genuinely a multilayered delight: individual notes vibrantly dance, squirm, chirp, gurgle, and squeal throughout the album in an tour de force of elegant control and nuance.It is clear that an enormous amount of effort went into shaping and editing these pieces into their final form.Whether or not To Kiss Earth Goodbye surpasses Frequency is New Ecstasy, however, is hard to say.I am leaning toward "it does," but the more salient point is that Téléplasmiste are now two-for-two with their full-lengths.While neither album consistently hits the mark on every single song, the quivering and hallucinatory soundscapes that Pilkington and York conjure add up to a vividly realized and absorbing world that is uniquely their own.

Samples can be found here.

18 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

Cardinal Fuzz and Feeding Tube Records are delighted to be able to  bring to you the much anticipated vinyl pressing of Dark Country Magic from this wonderful Maine trio (Quinnisa making her first intentional effort with "Moo Hoo" on this release).

Caleb Mukerin and Colleen Kinsella have been key personages of the Portland sonic underground as members of the cosmically-shifting Cerberus Shoals and the folkily psychedelic Fire on Fire before forming the more personal and hermetic Big Blood back in 2006. The band's multi-phasic discography has thus far reminded people of everything from the Comus to Portishead to Julee Cruise at different moments, yet none of these thumbnails comes close to capturing the intimacy and directness of their recordings where they take things to a higher plane of personal expression.

In Dark Country Magic haunting effects and experimental sounds combine with wailing fuzzed-up garage folk anthems and twisted poetic freak-folk as lyrical layers peel away endlessly, tiny amps weep in pain, crude percussion booms thunderous, and ragged, beautiful hooks unfurl straight out of the void. On "Coming Home Pt.3" Kinsella’s quivering bewitching vocals ask you to succumb to the hauntingly melancholic drift while acoustics strum quietly up front before Dark Country Magic's playful closer "Moo-Hoo," where Quinnisa performs a children’s story. The combination is head spinning and gloriously original, but will be immediately identifiable as Big Blood by anyone who knows the band's music.

More information can be found here.

13 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

Since 2016, I maintained there would be the advent of a new mantra: "Make Music Great Again." Sometimes the reference became more specific, replaced with Punk or Deathrock depending on my mood, but the message remained the same: the impetus for music with a message would be opened. We’ve seen legends returning to take advantage of the era to release new work, so there was a mix of both surprise and lack thereof when, completely unannounced, legendary punk band X dropped ALPHABETLAND, their first studio release in 27 years (and the first with their original line-up in the past 35 years) to coincide with the 40th anniversary of their classic 1980 debut Los Angeles. A fresh blast from the past that looks to the future, X come racing out of the gate with the same ferociousness and insistent melody of any of their classics.

Fat Possum

It is worth checking out the cover of ALPHABETLAND, a work from L.A. artist Wayne White titled Curdled American Dream. The most prominent visual is the brightly painted title, primary colors in large block letters, with a large X underneath. This may well be the only thing a casual viewer sees. A closer look reveals the brightly colored title is worn, with an underlying scene showing a run-down rural house in the background. The house sits near an overgrown yard filled with broken boats and wagons that lie near an idyllic pond, while to the side, men prepare to fish, and a small gathering of people can be seen on the home’s porch. The grandiosity of the letters proclaim the positivity of the "American Dream," but closer investigation reveals the dream in decline, with X as the messenger.

The band is said to have written most of the tracks in the 18 months leading up to its release, but the messages here are timeless. Probably the most poignant of all tracks is "Water and Wine" which gets to the meat of the matter: "The divine that defines us / The evil that divides us / There’s a heaven & a hell / And there’s a live to tell / Who has to wait at the end of the line / Who gets water & who gets wine." ALPHABETLAND touches on some powerful topics throughout, starting out with the title track that seems to address gentrification and the dangerous changes that come with it. X deliver smart punk lyrics for tough topics: the quest for individual American liberty regardless of the consequences; powerlessness in the face of authority; squelching of the freedom to protest; the influence of media; support for the "Me Too" movement.

Not entirely political, X also takes the time to be nostalgic, taking time to reflect on their past as in "Star Chambered." Closing track "All the Time in the World" has a sense of finality about it, a heartfelt track that has X looking back on friends and family who have gone before, and touches on why the band still does what they do:

"And why do we still care enough about
Or even too much
To make words
In the hope that someone in the future will hear
History is just one lost language after another,
After another
And when they’re all taken together
We still can’t decipher the past
Or decode the future
We’re just lost without a map

We are dust
It’s true
And to dust we shall return
Me and you
But it was fun while it lasted

All the time in the world
Turns out
Not to be that much"

Thank you X, for making music great again.

Sound samples may be heard here.

06 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

A collaborative project between guitarist/composer Michael Pisaro-Lu and Zizia (the duo of Amber Wolfe Rounds and Jarrod Fowler), Pisaura has debuted with quite a complex album, both conceptually and compositionally. Constructed from field recordings and found sounds and composition strategies guided by astrological maps, it is a dense and intricate work from a conceptual standpoint, but also a fascinating one that has secrets that are never fully revealed.

Sedimental

I first listened to Asteraceae intentionally avoiding any specific information regarding its construction, because beyond the cover art and packaging of an album, I like to focus on just the audio elements at first.For all its conceptual depth, the sleeve of the disc is kept rather minimal:a detail of the hybrid celestial/geographical map that Pisaura created for the project with a tiny bit of the written score hidden in the art. A full explanation of the work, as well as the extensive list of audio sources, can be found at http://zizia.xyz/aster.html.

There are a lot of traditional and electronic instruments used by the trio throughout the album, but the most overt element would be field recordings.For example, there is a melodica passage that appears heavily processed (but perceptible) throughout opening piece "ht01 °41 suruaT norihC," but the primary focus is on a multitude of quiet, hushed elemental sounds, including insects and other organisms.Sampled spider recordings (from the publicly accessible Ohio University's Borror Lab of Bioacoustics) also appear frequently throughout the entirety of the album, which is fitting given that Pisaura is a species of spider and also likely the first time I have specifically heard an arachnid featured on a CD.

The trio’s restrained and heavily processed use of other instruments is also a fascinating element of Asteraceae.Treated guitar is restructured into shimmering bell-like melodies throughout "Sun Sagittarius 3° 5th" that is fleshed out with plant percussion and other less specific field recordings.For other pieces, like "Mars Aquarius 9° 7th," the focus is on layers of combined guitar performances, resulting in a pleasant churn that is more of a traditional, though well executed, take on darker ambient sounds.Drawn from the same sources, "Saturn Sagittarius 18° 5th" is a beautiful suite of expansive tones, enriched by some subtle field recordings of water.

The bulk of this disc showcases the less conventional sound sources, however.There are some digital interference sounds and drifting electronics for "ht5 °81 suirattigaS nrutaS" but beyond that it is a series of water and other nature recordings primarily, none of which are too obvious.The back-to-back sequenced short pieces, "Pluto Libra 17° 4th" and "ht5 °51 suirattigaS nrutaS" work perfectly in their contrast with one another.The former sounds to be a far off metallic clatter of indistinct origin, while the latter is a warm, organic piece that feels far more inviting than the chaotic work that preceded it."st1 °92 recnaC tnadnecsA" fits with the organic theme as well:opening with a wet, wobbling crunch that quickly subsides, there is a strangely natural tinge to the electronics and droning tones that pervade.

Interestingly enough, considering its highly structured and deliberately composed nature, Pisaura has also intended this disc to be played fully on shuffle mode.Which explains the multitude of shorter pieces that appear throughout the middle portion of the disc, with the more dense compositions bookending the album.Much like Gescom's MiniDisc release, the juxtaposition of a slew of short, sparse works presented in varying contexts give an added level of unpredictability to the album.With the sounds being sometimes consistent, sometimes disparate, having them sequenced in an unexpected way adds a new layer to the disc.

Being one of the most conceptually deep albums I have heard in a while, Asteraceae sounds as if it could be a daunting experience, but it is anything but.First listening to it as I would any other album, and then going back again following the "guide" that is posted online, it added to my appreciation for what I was hearing, as well as answered some questions I had regarding sound sources and the like.However, there remains a significant amount of mystery and ambiguity, which is exactly the sort of thing I want to hear on this type of record.

Samples Available Here

06 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

This unusual and inspired collaboration between a Finnish experimentalist and one of Jamaican music's most iconic rhythm sections has its roots in an even more unlikely previous pairing: 2018's Nordub album on the venerable OKeh label. On that album, Sasu Ripatti's role was primarily that of a producer for a melodic and accessible jazz/dub hybrid, but the very different 500-Push-Up documents the far more cacophonous and freewheeling side of their collaboration that resulted from Ripatti's move into the driver's seat. Moreover, this second reunion occurred at a particularly interesting time, as Vladislav Delay's harsher recent work is light years away from Ripatti's heyday as a dub techno producer. While I am sure that a version of this album featuring the Vladislav Delay of the early 2000s would have been absolutely wonderful as well, the less disparate aesthetics of the participants would have likely led towards considerably more familiar territory than this one does, so maybe it is for the best that this union did not occur until now. At its best, 500-Push-Up sounds almost like it is carving out an new genre that blurs the lines between hip-hop beat tapes, fluid reggae bass lines, and hallucinatory electronic chaos.

Sub Rosa

While it is admittedly still an uncommon event, there have been several recent collaborations between contemporary electronic/experimental artists and luminaries from the golden age of Jamaican dub and it is always intriguing to see which direction they head in.The reason for that is quite simple: in this case, Sly and Robbie have a resume that stretches back to classic fare like The Upsetters, The Aggrovators, and The Revolutionaries, but the pair did not remain frozen in time and have continued to evolve over the ensuing decades, exploring other genres and collaborating with artists as varied as Grace Jones, Yoko Ono, Bill Laswell, and Bob Dylan.In short, Sly and Robbie have proven themselves to be a rather adaptable twosome with the one real constant being that they are excellent instrumentalists with a deep chemistry.Given that unquestionable and influential prowess as a tight rhythm section, Ripatti wisely decided to make Sly and Robbie's signature grooves the foundation for this project (as opposed to their production skills), visiting Kingston in early 2019 to record some bass and drum rhythms with the pair (as well as few field recordings and vocal passages).For the most part, Ripatti generally leaves those rhythms fairly unmolested, but it is primarily Robbie Shakespeare's bass playing that drives these songs and holds everything together, as Dunbar's drumming is sometimes deconstructed or enhanced with visceral industrial heft.The latter is most evident on pieces like "(520)" and "(519)," as the sounds of Dunbar's kit seem enswathed in a reverberant chaos of machine-like textures.The former approach is evident too, as the drums actually fall completely away by the end of "(519)," revealing quite a complex and hallucinatory sound collage lurking within its hum of industrial ambiance.

As my personal sensibility is far more "Throbbing Gristle" than "Peter Tosh," it is unsurprising that those more mechanized and outré moments are the ones that resonate most strongly with me.Beyond that, however, my interest in the project lies primarily in hearing what emerges when Sly and Robbie's expected aesthetic is aggressively reshaped by Ripatti, as there are already plenty of fine Sly and Robbie releases in the world and they definitely do not need Vladislav Delay's help to perfect their own vision.Ripatti acts as a chaos agent here. gleefully disrupting the expected in ingenious ways.In that light, my favorite piece on the album is the aforementioned "(520)," as Ripatti crafts a massive, shuffling groove that burrows relentlessly through a cacophony of blooping electronic weirdness and field recordings of city sounds.Naturally, "(519)" is yet another of my personal highlights, as Shakespeare's bassline drives a surreal plunge into a swirl of chopped-up vocals, churning field recordings, and echoing psychedelic flourishes.While the trio are admittedly at their best when Ripatti aims for heaviness, they also find some success when he takes a wilder, more playful tone, as he does on "(514)," which marries an insistent, stomping groove with woodpecker-like electronic bleeps and looped and chopped vocal yelps.Sometimes that side creeps too far into indulgence for my taste, as it does on the weirdly cheery "(512)," but Ripatti does manage to make an otherwise unspectacular '80s reggae groove seem like a deranged mindfuck of whirring electronics and clattering metal cans.Other times, however, that approach yields some very likable, leftfield results, such as on the opening "(513)," in which Shakespeare’s insistent major key bass line becomes increasingly submerged in a haunted landscape of tape hiss, strangled blurts, and heaving metallic textures.In fact, the best part comes at the end when Ripatti carves away everything but a shuddering snippet of radio that fades in and out of focus. 

While I would not necessarily characterize it as a flaw with this album, it is worth noting that a significant part of classic Jamaican dub's appeal lies in the fact that producers were deconstructing and repurposing actual songs: it was the collision of strong hooks, melodies, and grooves with an experimental approach to composition that made the genre so unique and enjoyable.There are no such songs lurking at the heart of 500-Push-Up, so the relative success of these pieces tends to lie in how successfully Ripatti's electronic assault manages to fill that void, though sometimes the grooves are solid enough to carry the day on their own.Obviously, it would have been great if some label had both the resources and the will to enable this trio to devote themselves to a fully fleshed-out studio album of real songs with vocals and hooks, but Ripatti thankfully proved to be impressively resourceful in reshaping the trio's raw material alone in his studio in Finland.As such, 500-Push-Up is an absolute delight when it hits the mark.To my ears, that happens with roughly half of these songs, while the other half feels more like cool experiments that fall a bit short of truly catching fire.I suppose that ultimately makes this album a bit uneven and a comparatively minor entry in the discographies of all involved, but that does not detract from the exquisite pleasures of this one-off detour's high points.Moreover, 500-Push-Up reveals a welcome glimpse into the more loose and fun side of Ripatti's artistry, making this a comparatively accessible counterbalance to the wintry, abrasive vision realized earlier this year on Rakka.

Samples can be found here.

06 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

William Basinski's reputation as the foremost producer of profound meditations on death and decay has long been established, but on his new album, Lamentations, he transforms operatic tragedy into abyssal beauty. More than any other work since The Disintegration Loops, there is an ominous grief throughout the album, and that sense of loss lingers like an emotional vapor.

Captured and constructed from tape loops and studies from Basinski's archives – dating back to 1979 – Lamentations is over forty years of mournful sighs meticulously crafted into songs. They are shaped by the inevitable passage of time and the indisputable collapsing of space – and their collective resonance is infinite and eternal.

Out November 13th on Temporary Residence.

06 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

Some bands struggle to transcend their initial mythos, those stories that introduce them to the public eye. But The Dead C is a notable exception. They appeared in 1986 under a cloud of mystery, their unconventional location (South Island, New Zealand) helping to fuel their erratic sound. Name-dropped through the nineties by groups like Sonic Youth and Yo La Tengo, they gained influence and acclaim but never strayed from their original mainlined performing technique, which can sound like chaos to the casual listener.

What kind of a world greets them and their new album Unknowns in 2020? New Zealand culture is better known throughout the world, not to mention a low-virus paradise. Yes, isolated as in the past, but this time for being a nation of efficacy in tackling a public health crisis. But what about the rest of us? The music of Mssrs. Robbie Yates, Bruce Russell and Michael Morley endures, partially because their errant sounds, once so alienating, now feel like they've been made flesh in a large part of the modern day world.

Continuing to delve inwards for inspiration with tin ears towards trends, styles and technique, The Dead C forge onward. Unpolished, dusty and gritty, these three have again taken two guitars and drums, a combo which has less to say than ever, and leave us stunned. Unknowns has Morley slurring over spiraling dissemblance, with tracks ricocheting from intense to assaultive to drained, yet consistently magnificent.

As reliable as ever, The Dead C are firmly grounded as an unassailable Truth.

Out October 16th on Ba Da Bing.

06 September 2020

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Albums and Singles

I have to admit that I have always been somewhat confounded by stated The Ghost Box aesthetic of "artists exploring the misremembered musical history of a parallel world," as I have little nostalgia for hazily remembered '60s and '70s children’s television and a limited passion for the vintage sci-fi sounds of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. In short, I had insufficient whimsy in my heart to properly appreciate anything that sounds like a retro-futurist alternate soundtrack for The Wicker Man. After fully immersing myself in this latest fairy-themed opus from label co-founder Jim Jupp, however, I am beginning to see the unique appeal of the willfully anachronistic collective. I am not sure if the changing world or my changing self ultimately led me to this point, but the idea of spending some time in a kitschy fever dream evocation of a cheaply constructed puppet world suddenly seems extremely appealing to me. Granted, The Gone Away still rubs me the wrong way during its more "vintage lounge music" moments, but it nevertheless feels both good and pure that Jupp is so single-mindedly focused on extracting genuine pathos from our weird, dated, and ostensibly ridiculous cultural memories.

Ghost Box

If I had any doubts about whether or not I was projecting my own preconceptions of this project onto The Gone Away, they were immediately erased by the kooky and hallucinatory promotional video made by Sean Reynard's alter-ego Quentin Smirhes.In fact, I may have even read too much seriousness into Jupp's intent, though the teasing ambiguity of Belbury Poly is admittedly part of the appeal: even when it seems silly, that silliness is invariably delivered with real heart and sincerity.Probably, anyway.Only Jupp himself knows for sure.In any case, The Gone Away is the project's seventh full-length, yet marks a return to Belbury Poly's roots in a way, as Jupp departs from his more collaborative recent endeavors for an entirely solo affair.The other salient detail is that the album is inspired by the older, darker side of fairy-based folklore.It would be a stretch to call The Gone Away a dark album though, as Jupp's cheery eccentricity proves to be irrepressible.A few pieces do, however, take on a more somber or shadowy tone.The biggest surprise in that regard is "Corner of the Eye," which initially sounds like a bleary homage to chamber music, but packs a wonderfully haunting and sophisticated central theme that sounds plucked from an impossibly cool scene in an imaginary espionage film.In fact, the entirety of The Gone Away feels like the soundtrack to an imaginary film, but one where the composer was a rather moody fellow with a macabre sense of humor and a propensity for disorienting shifts in tone.The overall effect is akin to watching a goofy and candy-colored stop-motion or puppet film that contains some unexpectedly poignant moments of contemplation as well as a low-level sense of mounting horror that is always threatening to curdle the idyll.Also, there is probably a tropical beach party, some pagan rituals, and a tender love story in the mix as well.

Needless to say, those vivid technicolor shifts in tone make The Gone Away quite a fascinating and oft-fun cavalcade of singular and surreal scenes.In fact, I like to imagine Jupp as an incredibly talented cabaret pianist who can effortlessly play nearly any request, but who has only four possible settings on his keyboard: "harpsichord," "cartoon tuba," "Giorgio Moroder," and "big, bloopy analog synthesizer."As a result, even the most straightforward melodies feel charmingly lurching, blurting, and unfamiliar, though Jupp does occasionally downplay his propensity for big melodies to take a stab at more understated and simmering fare.That side of Jupp's artistry is best illustrated by "ffarisees," which mostly sounds like Moroder covering a somewhat haunting medieval Christmas song, yet ultimately evolves into a dazzling final act of skittering synth arpeggios that calls to mind a fireworks display erupting in an Impressionist painting. The opposite end of the spectrum is exemplified by the bouncy, burbling, and bright melodies of "Fol-de-rol," which would completely destroy my sanity if it was stuck in my head for longer than five minutes.There is a lot of stylistic room between those two poles, however, and some of it is quite good.I am especially fond of "Magpie Lane" and "Copse," which are (of course) quite different from both each other and everything else on the album.In "Magpie Lane," for example, a bittersweetly lilting melody of blobby synth tones unfolds over a clicking melody that I can only presume was provided by a tap-dancing puppet (naturally, said puppet also has a jaw harp)."Copse," on the other hand, feels like the theme music for an epic showdown between a gallant knight and some kind of shambling extradimensional fiend.    

The inherent modesty and "loving homage" nature of this project precludes me from proclaiming that Jupp is a world-building iconoclast, but The Gone Away does have the feel of great outsider art.Whether or not it is fair to call the co-founder of an influential and beloved label an "outsider" is certainly up for debate, yet it is a challenge to imagine many other artists who are as far outside the zeitgeist as someone orchestrating an unholy and mind-melting collision of early electronic music, classic sci-fi kitsch, H.R. Pufnstuf, and dark folklore in 2020.Or who blurs the line between wholesome and demented so masterfully.No one can say that Jupp and his Ghost Box brethren lack vision.However, that vision would not amount to nearly as much if Jupp were not so skilled at executing it.Aside from his obvious talents for strong hooks, uncluttered arrangements, and tight songcraft, Jupp showcases a genius for something much harder to define on The Gone Away.Normally, I praise artists who skillfully combine disparate for their seamlessness, but Jupp deserves praise for his…uh…seamFULness instead, as he manages to imbue almost every piece with a clunky, self-consciously retro homespun charm.Whether or not that charm is enough to elevate this album from "endearingly strange and otherworldly" to "great" probably lies in how predisposed a given listener is towards classic BBC Radiophonic Workshop sounds, I suppose.In my case, my appreciation for the Workshop lies mostly in its historical importance, but The Gone Away's handful of highlights is delightful enough to make me wonder if I need to reevaluate that opinion.I also wonder if the real deal (Oram/Derbyshire aside) might now pale beside Jupp's inspired re-imaginings: The Gone Away is not so much like re-visiting a long-cancelled, half-remembered TV show as it is like discovering that your weird uncle built an elaborate diorama of the set in his garage and has doggedly continued the plot on his own ever since (with absolutely no dip in quality).

Samples can be found here.