- Scott Mckeating
- Albums and Singles
Featuring just Flaherty and his alto / tenor saxophones (nothing extraneous but a very mild echo), its only when there are tiny gaps in the eight pieces that it becomes apparent the world out there is still turning.
This lonely voice and its turbulent attempts at communication are incredibly immersive and involving, songs flitting between angry tirades, unconnected effects less distorted rambling and simple gorgeous horn parts.This is the only LP necessary for proof that solo improvised sax is more than just skronking. Flaherty isn’t regarded the best around on the basis of primogeniture; he is busting heads open on account of his skill.
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- Matthew Amundsen
- Albums and Singles
"Paris" opens the disc, its delayed guitars, wheezing accordions, and heavy beat providing a hazy soundtrack appropriate for ambling over cobblestone streets with no particular destination in mind. "Easy Street," on the other hand, is more forceful, powered by a menacing guitar that only occasionally opens into sunnier vistas. "Oh I Was Bad" is a plea for a better hand, preferably face cards rather than numbers. Thompson’s voice doesn’t have perfect pitch yet has its own weary charm, full of knowledge and experience. The last song, "Bong Bong," is a peculiar instrumental with a little guitar and discordant keyboard stabs. It’s as unpredictable as anything else here and shows Thompson resisting complacency as firmly as ever.
With such a far-reaching history and extensive back catalog as the Red Krayola's, finding an entry point can be a daunting challenge. The Red Gold EP doesn’t epitomize the band's vision or career by any means, but it's still a safe and welcoming entry point for the uninitiated that also won’t disappoint the faithful.
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This web-only release draws parallels with Einstuerzende Neubauten's Strategies Against Architecture series that Thirlwell helped kick start when he started spreading the news from Berlin to British labels in the '80s. Damp is a retrospective limited to Thirlwell's work as Foetus covering the last three years. Like Neubauten's own retrospectives, there is a huge emphasis on not including previously released material and instead offering new takes and versions of familiar tracks and as much brand new material as possible. This is perfect for a Foetus fan like myself, despite owning most of the albums, I do not feel the urge to buy every compilation, EP or collaboration and as such I only already own one song out of the dozen featured on Damp.
Many of the songs here continue the lounge, big band and film noir vibes that have always been staples of the Foetus repertoire. The more industrial sounding elements have been pushed aside; it is only when the Melvins provide the music on "Mine is no Disgrace" that it sounds like older Foetus releases but the Melvins make it far more evil. On a side note, it would be interesting to see a full album collaborating with the Melvins as they suit each other perfectly. Lyrically, Thirlwell still packs a solid punch as over the course of the disc he sings about hating, dirty sex and disease, andraping nuns: themes employed by lesser artists as cheap shock gimmicks but they feel like they have more weight to them on a Foetus record.
Damp acts extremely well as a sister album to 2005's Love, it's not surprising as a sizeable portion of Damp was recorded during the same sessions. Playing the two discs one after the other highlights the similarities between the two but this release is perfectly capable of standing on its own two feet. "I Hate You All," "Not in Your Hands," and the epic "Cold Shoulder" make it obvious that Thirlwell still has buckets of ideas and talent to use. By far the jewel in Damp’s crown is the gorgeously melancholic "Chimera," which is quickly becoming my favourite Foetus song. Considering how strong the pieces from recent years have been, I might review my Foetus purchasing arrangement as I normally concentrate on the main Foetus albums. Now I think I should be picking up any EPs or Thirlwell-related side projects that I come across.
As well as newer material, there is some reworked older material included. There is a new version of "Into the Light" from the Null EP as well as the cover of The The's "Shrunken Man," which appeared on the Shrunken Man Interpretations EP years ago.
To be honest, I am surprised that I enjoy this album as much as I do, even after I loved Love so much. Damp is a fantastic disc, showing that Foetus is not only still as strong as ever but I feel he is surpassing himself.
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Lullabye Arkestra sunk their talons into me pretty quickly. The album starts with slow, mournful strings and horns that build into a dramatic climax in which the floor suddenly drops out, replaced by the band in full-on assault mode. Before the song even finished, I had to go back and listen to that amazing opening again.
After the soaring bombast of the first track, I wasn’t ready for the rootsy direction the album takes. The band continues with the distorted bass and melancholy horns, but instead of a pummeling charge, they flirt with blues and early rock 'n roll. The emphatic wailing vocals often steal the spotlight while a church organ toils in the background.
Although at first I was disappointed that they took this route after the superb opener, the band’s enthusiasm eventually won me over. Even the slower, minimal "Come Out, Come Out" is a nice shelter from the storms that both precede and follow it. "Nation of Two" finds the group returning to the heaviness of the opener with a blistering, if straightforward, distorted anthem. They slow it down even as they keep the heavy aesthetic on "Bulldozer of Love," this time bringing their horns back to add discordant squalls and squeaks on the song’s periphery. Their final statement is another burner, starting with slow feedback before the band hits together. An ode to rock and roll, it nicely summarizes their varied approach on the rest of the album, alternating between distorted bass and catchy horns and choruses.
Even as my opinion fluctuated somewhat during the early section, Ampgrave won me over on the whole. It’s a fantastic, invigorating album whose only fault is that it’s over far too soon.
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Editions Mego
O’Malley and Rehberg paired up to form KTL in order to soundtrack a theatrical work by Gisèle Vienne and Dennis Cooper. The work is called Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the Death of Children), after Gustav Mahler’s musical adaptations of Friedrich Rückert’s poetry. Judging from pictures on the web, Vienne and Cooper’s work is heavily influenced by the Knecht Ruprecht and Krampus traditions of Germanic Europe, as well as using strange dummies of young girls dressed in black metal shirts and hoodies. The music here is not the actual soundtrack for the theatrical work but it is related to the soundtrack according to the sleeve notes. Along with the notes in the booklet come images of anonymous long haired figures and robed beings ascending a staircase, perhaps a nod to the classic cinematic tension in a horror film before the inevitable terror.
The disc's mood is set with the 25-minute long opener, "Estranged," where the feeling of impending doom seeps like blood through a mattress. It is a musical purgatory acting as a prelude into the depths of hell. Hell in this case appears to be a forest as the next four tracks, "Forestfloor 1-4," are inhospitable and startling. Rehberg's contribution becomes more pronounced as shards of noise and sound rip through the mix like glass from a cannon. For the first two parts, O’Malley goes for fast tremolo picking instead of his usual play a chord and holding it for a couple of days approach. The end result is a cold blast reminiscent of some of the winds knifing through the northern hemisphere the last few weeks. The third and fourth parts of "Forestfloor" see O'Malley return to the slow dirge that he is famous for, at the same time Rehberg's equipment sounds like it is on its last legs.
The album finishes with "Snow," which, despite its pretty name, continues the dread that has permeated KTL from the very beginning. The uneasy quietness is deeply unsettling following the chaos of "Forestfloor," only reverb-drenched ambience and a distant high pitched squeal break the silence. It sounds like the unnatural stillness of the aftermath of something violent and bloody. It closes off the album perfectly; there is no real sense of closure per se but instead a feeling of a lucky escape. Next time whatever creature is stalking through the forest might just win.
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Secret Eye
The One Ensemble's music comes in waves: smokey ones that dance and weave in and out of audible frequencies until they fabricate a space all their own with rules that don't exist for other compositions and definitions that betray the very term. The exotic brew of the east and Padden's own Volcanic whimsy allow the music on Wayward the Fourth to go any direction it pleases and often the instruments and voices employed take sudden turns and execute acrobatic maneuvers that'd make the most talented contortionist wonder about their constitution.
The opening "Joker Burlesque" announces itself quietly, floating into existence on a wave of buzzing strings and odd hums. With the addition of sharply plucked guitars and unmistakably One-ish vocal calls, the album begins to take off, stepping deftly about the room like some hypnotic dancer with seductive intent. As the song washes through the remainder of its nine minute duration, a strange and unsettling calm begins to settle in and Wayward the Fourth sounds as though it might come to an early and quiet end, harkening back to the Ensemble's debut release. "Neither One Thing" quickly erases that notion with a quirky chorus of high-pitched voices, a walking acoustic guitar, and the simple flourishes of other stringed instruments. There's something truly child-like about the music and as "Shapes Disguised as Sizes" begins to stomp about it becomes difficult not to imagine this as the soundtrack to some very imaginative child's mind. Being carried away by all the sensuous arrangements, off-kilter voices, and dance-inducing rhythms is easy and imagining a world of strange creatures inhabiting the world this music exists in is even easier.
"Smok," for instance, brings to life a world of sailors weary from the sea and drunk on the docks, celebrating the chance to relieve themselves from work for one night. The music rotates and swings to and fro before engaging a cinematic aura and developing an entire story about the history of the sailors and their voyage. The second-longest piece on the record, "Resonant Kings," sounds precisely as it is named: it swells and whispers gently underneath the steady playing of a circular acoustic melody highlighted by dramatic and urgent strings literally propelling the song along. The sharp rhythmic dynamics and brisk cadence thrust this song to the center of the album and give it a heavy weight. This is less a reverie and more an intense moment replayed over and over again, with the consequences always held just out of view. Padden and company do a superb job and switching between these moods and between various modes of expression, whether playful or serious. This easily matches the performance on Live at VPRO radio as a whole and presents a whole range of ideas that sit extremely well next to each other. It's proof that the genius heard there was no mere fluke and that Padden and his band still have a lot of music left in them.
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Pulled from the nowhereland of the out-of-print CDR graveyard, this 10" re-release of Burning Star Core's 2003 Amelia EP is probably the only decent chance that we the latecomers will get to grab these three tracks. This, the first of six vinyl BxC releases in 2007 from the No-Fi label, will hopefully help to shine a little more much overdue light on Spencer C. Yeh's project. Music this good shouldn’t be left to fall prey to disc rot.
Two of these cuts might have already been made available on the Mes Soldats Stupides 96-04 compilation CD, but that still left the middle track "Homing Pigeon" lost in the wilderness. Relying more on electronics and almost imperceptible melodies than his violin / vocal techniques, this is amongst his finest material to date.
Opening the first side like a woozy Tangerine Dream outtake, "I Wanna Make a Supersonic Woman of You" is a lopsided siren synth piece that's quickly decaying at the fringes into fading tatters. There’s a great rise and fall through the song that brings to mind some huge empty landscape, an ambitious widescreen melancholy. Great swabs of lump in throat melody float like great blue glaciers as it grows and shrinks. "Homing Pigeon" sits in the peculiar space between frantic scrabble and intricately precise work as pencil lead glitches drop like an opened barrel of nails through the track. A databank of trapped percussion is accidentally half-formed into structures upon collision then scatters across the track. Through the clashes of construction and sounds a warm melody comes up and through the ice like a faint pink glow. The sense of organic warmth is what these tracks tick, and well worthy of re-release.
The lengthy flipside, "The Point of Departure is not to Return," concentrates on livelier electronics, keeping the devil in the detail. The quickly circling quieter patterns seem to spin dizzyingly fast when focused upon, as the bigger picture settles as a crystal mess of notes. Burning Star Core haven't stopped moving yet, but taking the time out to catch up isn't always this rewarding.
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- Matthew Amundsen
- Albums and Singles
Apart from some tracks like "Over and Over," "(Just Like We) Breakdown," or "And I Was a Boy From School," much of the album is typical dance music with an affectation of self-importance. When the band tries their hand at ballads, such as "Look After Me," the results are even worse. Their macho taunts on the title track are just silly, especially since the rest of the music doesn’t reflect their tongue-in-cheek intentions. There isn't a whole lot going on here to distinguish Hot Chip from a dozen other groups making music like this. Yet the album isn’t a complete write-off. The best tracks deserve to be compiled alongside their peers, and perhaps clever remixes will grant them a longer shelf life. As a complete work, however, The Warning didn't hold my attention.
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- Scott Mckeating
- Albums and Singles
Alex Cobb's Taiga Remains project has always catapulted aural sparks into the foreground, but this 3" CDR pretty much destroys all competition. Burning huge sunspot holes into the hear-and-now this packs more heat than Schwarzenegger used to before he went political/uber-fascistic, and without the aggression.
Saturating sound of images of some huge bizarre and charred Blakeian monstrosity, this single 11 minute track spills heat like a wrecked oven. With everything here generated from the manipulation of acoustic guitar and delay, the focused intensity is surprisingly powerful. The sitar-like buzzing sounds like cat gut strings burned chokingly taut by sunlight. But instead of careering incontinently into white-out there are creeping burnt edges, melting slowly into gold instead of blackening and curling. Shimmering single drones delicately waver like a choir of "om"ers that sidle up to the shake of forty tambourine shaking priestesses. Even the can't-be-human sounding groaning drones underneath can’t make this release sound it’ll do anything other than boil your eyes.
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Although these two songs didn't fit in to the band's debut, the formula is the same: tune everything way down, chug and slowly swim through tar until the song ends. As formulaic as they are, it works well.
“Monument,” is a nice example of doom being played without pretensions. The vocals owe more to Norway’s finest black metallers than to St. Vitus but they work well within the frame of the song. The thump of the drums is invigoratingly clear. With all the sludge being pushed around by the guitars and bass the drumming cuts through like a beacon. On the flip side, "Fork Lashing Eye" sees the black metal influence creep out of the vocals and into the music. It is less adventurous than their smelting of black and doom metal on Here Where Nothing Grows but I found this a lot more exciting to listen to.
As much as I liked their album, it did lumber along a bit, adding length to the pieces for the sake of it. Here the songs are just the right length (and at about 15 minutes they are quite generous) for what they are which is old fashioned, no frills doom. A tendency towards adding an “avant metal” edge (i.e. The Wire-friendly) to the songs on the album worked against them while here, the purer and harder hitting style employed by the band works in their favor.
The only minor issue that holds these two songs back is the quality of the recordings, specifically the vocals and how the songs are mixed. Most of the music sounds fine but the vocals are lost on both songs. Also, the drums seem pushed too far forward in the mix on “Fork Lashing Eye.” While these things are noticable, they don't impact my enjoyment of the record in any way.
This is only available on LP so no mp3 samples, apologies!
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More analogous to the filthy, funky Ed Banger and Gigolo labels than meathead pop-trance jingles, this album certainly wont revolutionize electronic music, though it will compel clubgoers worldwide to shake their asses and rock to the beat. It's abundantly clear that DJ Splank, also known as John Starlight, can't run fast enough away from his past.
Back in 1999 when Zombie Nation was a duo, it delivered "Kernkraft 400," a catchy little electrowave track that ultimately spun out of control and, thanks in part to some obnoxious remixing, became one of the most well-known and overplayed dance tracks ever. While I sincerely hope that Splank continues to receive deserved financial compensation for what is now known as a sports stadium anthem catchy enough to threaten Gary Glitter's foothold, I find it relieving that Black Toys doesn't try to recreate that commercial success.
Today's Zombie Nation produces hedonistic techno thankfully devoid of Detroit's futurist philosophizing or Berlin's clinical abstraction. Packed with squelchy, dirty grooves salvaged from the smoldering husk of electroclash, Black Toys succeeds where many artist albums so excruciatingly fail in this predominantly single-based culture. "Booster," also released as a 12" single, kicks things off with a restrained mix of quirky rhythmic minimalism and melodious lo-fi synthwork. Similarly, and perhaps to greater effect, "All Or Nothing" updates the bliss of Sheffield techno visionaries Sweet Exorcist and LFO with the bleepy bassy stabs and a rolling 4/4 groove. "Slomo" not only drops the tempo, but brings a whimsical flair to the cripplingly serious dubstep genre its beat so closely resembles. It takes nearly two minutes before the secret disco funk plot begins to hatch on "Peace And Greed," a killer cut that both wondrously references and progressively revamps the lost French sound of the tragically defunct Roulé and Crydamoure imprints. Zombie Nation looks to the past like some of us reach for a telephone, though his dependence on retro styles actually supports his own individuality as opposed to hindering it.
A ten minute long bonus remix of the riff-heavy title track proves to be an unnecessary and deficient end to an otherwise generally likeable album. Still, this final indiscretion can be overlooked after so many memorable and feel-good tunes.
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