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date - January 16th 2007
artist - Claudio Parodi
title - Horizontal Mover (homage to Alvin Lucier)
cat # - XCD-056
format - CD
label - EXTREME
country - Australia
Few musicians have the opportunity to pay homage to their musical idol, much less send them a recording and receive a reply. CLAUDIO PARODI did just this, sending “Horizontal Mover” to Alvin Lucier. The response was nothing short of overwhelming – “I find it absolutely beautiful”.
This shows the humility of Lucier, a pioneering artist, and the talent of PARODI in producing “Horizontal Mover”, a work that deserves such praise.
EXTREME www.xtr.com
The words of Lucier are worth repeating in full: “Dear Claudio, I just received the CD of Horizontal Mover. I will have to re-read your description of the process to more fully understand it. But I can say that after listening to it, I find it absolutely beautiful. I am honored to be so honored. The CD will take a foremost place in my archives. Thank you so much. Cordially, Alvin Lucier.”
PARODI followed his own interpretation of the classic “I am sitting in a Room” using cymbals, drums and toms to invent his own vision of diffusion, resonance and the recording process. Such a process treads a tightrope between concept and music.
Fortunately PARODI’s sensibilities are firmly planted in bringing forth music that is both satisfying and challenging to the listener. The sounds keep building on themselves, layer upon layer, to create an intriguing textural music that rewards repeated listening.
“Horizontal Mover” (homage to Alvin Lucier) is the first of seven generative compositions that PARODI is recording for Extreme. Other musical luminaries to be showcased in the series include Charles Hayward, Yasunao Tone (of Fluxus) and Alvin Curran.
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Robert Pollard’s second solo album of 2006 is a mixed bag of pop gems and forgettable tunes that betray an inconsistency of effort. While it’s the sort of thing I expect from one of his numerous side projects, that one of his so-called major releases is so scattershot can only be considered a disappointment.
As a longtime fan, I’ve given Pollard some leeway on occasion because his missteps have been relatively minor in light of how much I’ve enjoyed the majority of his output. So it’s with trepidation that I admit that the bad outweighs the good on one of his major releases. Like on From a Compound Eye, this album finds Pollard laying down the basic vocal and guitar tracks and leaving the rest to Todd Tobias, who plays almost all of the other instruments. For all of the work he does, it seems unfair that Tobias doesn’t share billing. Yet his backing on this particular album is merely competent if uninspired, adjectives that could sometimes describe his production work as well. Fiction Man, for instance, was fairly flat, if not bland, yet Compound Eye was among his best. With Normal Happiness, Tobias unfortunately returns to the Fiction Man aesthetic. There’s a sameness at work here that deprives many songs of the dynamics they deserve, especially "Top of My Game," "Tomorrow Will Not Be Another Day," and "Join the Eagles." While it might seem natural to blame Tobias for these flaws, his production isn’t the biggest problem here.
The worst part is Pollard’s singing, something that I’ve never had reason to worry about before. At times, it seems that he’s going with the first take regardless of its quality and moving on as fast as he can. In particular, "Seriously Bird Woman (You Turn Me On)" is intended to be a smoldering ballad but devolves into a painful dirge when Pollard’s voice cracks in an attempt to hit high notes that are out of his reach. Another take might have done wonders, but perhaps Pollard couldn’t be bothered. This philosophy rules much of the album, particularly the second half.
As much as I find worthy of complaint, there are still some great songs here. "Whispering Whip" is a strange, brief twist of pop, while "Supernatural Car Lover" is a fairly straightforward sunny song with a great hook. "Give Up the Grape" and "Pegasus Glue Factory" are heavier than the rest and might have been better situated on one of the Circus Devils releases, but the latter in particular is a nice change of pace and something I’d like to hear more of in the future. In an interview not too long ago, Pollard said he’d like to do a post-punk album but that he’s too old to make it believable. It’s a shame he feels so uncharacteristically self-conscious because, similar to "Pegasus," "Sleepover Jack" from Half Smiles of the Decomposed was one of that album’s highlights, and I would love for him write more songs in this vein.
I prefer Pollard when he’s incensed, when he feels like he has something to prove. Even From a Compound Eye had that element to it, but this one simply does not. Writing consistently enjoyable songs comes easily to Pollard, but this album sounds like it’s coming too easily.
samples:
 
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Darla
Here's how to tell if a music nerd friend is a gearhead: notice what they remark on when they play a song. "Check out the [sound|treatment] of this [guitar|vocal|whatever]" versus "what a great song," and a subsequent singalong. Bobby was one of my best friends when he lived in Boston and whether it was a Bowery Electric show, Jack Dangers/Meat Beat Manifesto remix, or Cocteau Twins LP, it was always about the sound with him. Bobby, however, is one of the only people I know personally that I can say is truly a bloody genius and It's no wonder he moved on to work with music software. Together with Andrew Prinz, they form the core of Mahogany, and with the aid of Robin Guthrie, Mahoganey's latest album is heavenly to anybody who falls in love with sound. The songwriting, however, doesn't quite match the splendor of the production.
The songs are clearly influenced by another time, evidenced by the chunky Peter Hook-esque bass guitar or the cascading synth layers or even the Joy Division sample (they can't have come up with that sound) at the end of "Supervitesse." Whether or not they went into this record with the goal of recording one of those Factory Records tax writeoffs that LTM is always digging up or not, that's what they got. The vocals, unfortunately, seem like they're unneccessarily low on the priority scale. For the most part, the lyrics aren't memorable enough to be as sticking as some of the melodies, the delivery is restrained and weak, the lack of harmony when multiple singers are present is disappointing, and the overprocessed and overtreated production on the vocals makes it evident that they're trying to compensate for known downfalls.
I do actually find myself enjoing the album as a whole, however, as songs like "Supervitesse" have a very lovable and driving energy; the opening song, "Tesselation," is a perfect intro: lush and comforting like a fuzzy blanket to get lost in; and the bouncy "Neo-Plastic Boogie-Woogie" is the type of joy that we all got when we first heard Belle and Sebastian. (Although it's just sickeningly Twee enough to make me want to eat a veal burger and punch a college kid in pajama bottoms.) "Domino Ladder Beta" is a bit too mopey/navel-gazey in its original form but thankfully the Robin Guthrie-enhanced version on the bonus disc brings the vocals to the foreground and makes a much mor musicially rich version of the song
It's easy to see Mahogany have worked long and hard on this disc, and as a bonus have included some decent remixes, but a more enjoyable bonus are the three music videos included as enhanced content on the second CD. (Yes, it's known I'm a sucker for both enhanced content and music videos.) We see the band dressed up and in train stations with "Supervitesse" (destined to become one of this year's biggest hits with the pop kids), a deluxe and beautiful eye candy animation/live clip montage for "One Plus One Equals Three Or More," and a fantastic video of a prom dance overrun by dancing adults in"Neo-Plastic Boogie-Woogie."
samples:
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Contributing to the din are penetrating keyboards and vocals that are alternately yelped, barked, and screeched. At times, the group shows a blatant disregard for tunefulness, and it’s a trait that suits them. Similarly, the production gets a little muddy in places but it’s wholly appropriate for the group’s rusty blade aesthetic.
From the beginning of “They, ‘Which Is Worst?’,” the band seems to be playing different songs, but when the raspy vocals enter, the sloppiness is revealed to be a mere façade. This chaotic force continues with the loping rhythm of “The Slow Clap,” around which the other instruments congeal. The keyboards are a critical element of “The Racket,” punctuating the din to clear some of the smoke. “Bleed at Both Ends” is an instrumental that takes a slow and methodical approach that builds to a cathartic release. The group gets a little more menacing on “Beak As Tool” with its dire bassline, panic button synth, and various noises prowling the background. The keyboard and effects lord over “The Forgetter,” another instrumental, and paves the way for the raucous finale, “Boo Hoo!”
This album is enjoyable from the beginning and only gets better with every song, luring me further into is anarchic labyrinth until is shoots me out the exit, careening and dizzy in the daylight and yearning to be lost again within its depths.
samples:
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- Roxy N. Henry
- Albums and Singles
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Picking up a bit where "Claimant Reclaimed" left off, Sweet begins the album on familiar ground. It opens with finger-picked rhythms and submissive vocals, taking the best parts of the Boduf Songs' style and elevating them a few notches. The music tends to be even more in line with the lyrical content than the last one, having a slightly darker edge. The visual and sonic imagery of the first track, "Lord of the Flies," is of tainted beauty, diseased sexuality, and evil to the core. Like the book from which this track culls its name, it points to the hidden natures within us all as human beings. An abstract sound of swarming flies comes and goes.
"Two Across the Mouth" enters murder ballad territory, the implied violence centering around burying one's past rather than an actual corpse, then hiding away "in a cabin in the pines," to escape and forget. It brings to the forefront more of an electric sound in its intro, complete with distortion, delay and subtle feedback of his trademark bowing. This track is definitely a highlight as the bowed sounds making perfect accents and backings to his plucked guitar and meandering vocal melody. One of the most elegant songs, "Great Wolf of No Tracks," waltzes along within Sweet's basic but perfect trio of elements: plucking, singing, and thoughtful, prayer-like lyrics. Both "That Angel Was Pretty Lame" and "Please Ache For Redemptive" employ some free-form playing and random sounds. In the latter, "all in this body balance and repose" is softly chanted, repeatedly, underneath bursts of hand-beaten drums and cymbol clatterings; a cyclical guitar part holds it all together.
Like a heartbeat or something tribal, "Green Lion Devours the Sun" starts with a deep and reverbed drum that subtly pounds throughout. It's interesting to note that Sweet entered music first as a drummer, and that drums and percussion take a definite back seat to guitar and melody with this project. However, rhythm is truly a grounding feature with Boduf Songs, both with his guitar playing style and some of his vocal phrasings. There is no strumming of chords anywhere. The picking patterns of "Fall of Cherry Blossom In Long Shadows of Twilight" drive the song, but its icing lies in the second layer of singing with different words behind the main vocals, as well as in the birds and fireworks at its end. A delicate and wonderful harmony emerges on "27th Raven's Head (Darkness Showing Through the Head of the Raven)," maybe clueing us in to explorations on future releases. Whereas the last one ended so beautifully and perfectly, leaving me wanting moremoremore, this one ends with a lacklustre dirge, "Bell For Harness." At over nine minutes long, the music is very redundant, as well as extremely derivative. I've listened to the entire album several times in full over the course of a few weeks, and as much as I enjoy the rest of it, I just can't get into the last song. But considering it's the only thing close to a flaw on the entire album, it's easy to let it go.
Sweet is a man further refining his style, a step deeper into realizing a completely honest and genuine identity in music. The vocals are more seasoned, the lyrics are more developed, and the embellishments to the guitar framework are stronger and more interesting. Lion Devours the Sun demands a headphone listen while sitting directly in the sun—a blanket in the park or in a favorite room by the window will do. To me this is not one of those dark late night Kranky releases. Have some coffee or a cuppa on a Saturday afternoon, forego the nighttime weed-stoked spin, just this once.
samples:
- Lord of the Flies
- Green Lion Devours the Sun, Blood Descends to Earth
- 27th Raven's Head (Darkness Showing Through the Head of the Raven)
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- Scott Mckeating
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Mike Connolly’s Failing Lights project has been pretty hit-and-miss to date, maybe more miss than hit if truth be told. Some of the material’s been known to sit in a bleak rut for ten minutes at a time, gathering little more than bedsores and buboes. This is a much more active and interesting listen, taking the wrecked ambient avenue into more together territory.
Like all his best material away from Hair Police and Wolf Eyes the sound here is so debased that it’s almost organic. The cracked beetle shell static that he gets from pushing his equipment that one nudge further is all over Black Breath. Moving through four loosely defined mini-suites, from whistling lulls and fire extinguisher storm clouds, he stops along the way to produce queasy melody buzzes. This is an unexpected grounding of his style; it’s as if he’s been Kafkaed into a purple syrup-supping Bee. The only time this tape gets on the expectedly aggressive tip is the feedback electric spit of the second piece, lightning ripping from his fingers like Palpatine with cramps. If your pink spray painted side refuses to play, don’t panic, it’s the black side that carries the music. It is a very apt choice.
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- Lucas Schleicher
- Albums and Singles
Blossoming Noise
Thurston Moore plays on this record; maybe the Sonic Youth kids can appreciate that. And the band's name is a bit humorous, so maybe all the hip kids will catch on to that and praise the band's "down to earth" front. Then they'll stumble over French names, time travel narratives, an art for the sake of art cover, and bad sound collage and wonder what the hell is going on. I know irony is the new black and that hypocritical cynicism is the best way to win an argument these days, whoever you're arguing with, but nobody is going to convince me that it's worth trying to decode all the nonsense this group has layered into their release for Blossoming Noise. I'm a fan of whacky concepts, but this seems to be less whacky than it is absolutely unintelligible. If the liner notes are to be taken seriously at all, then everything on this record consists of sounds from previous releases by To Live and Shave in L.A. and are remixed in some fashion so as to capitalize on this concept of assassination and literary history. I don't buy it for a second and, after listening to nothing but electronic chirping for an hour or so, I'm not sure how many people will.
I love it when weird bands that have consumed too much acid over the years play with electronic devices. There's always a certain childishness to their work and, if that's missing, a fairly warped picture of the universe supported by a librarian's knowledge of the occult, the underground, or the otherwise ignored. What I do not like is when someone pretends to be just like that and ends up spitting out an hour's worth of wormy noise that doesn't belong together or doesn't fit together in the first place. Anyone can make a bunch of noise and act as though they've just completed a masterpiece: just slap some stupid arty machinery in the background and maybe some people will be fooled! After trying to find some redeeming quality to this record, I'm convinced it doesn't exist. Machine noise, some static, and some really repetitive analog sound bounce around without any sense of intrigue and eventually end in a wash of yelled vocals, half-dead pulsation, and static. The album is consistently flat, even when it attempts to juice things up, such as on "1643." No amount of turning the volume up to eleven will make anything on this record worth hearing.
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Paw Tracks
This reissue of Hollinndagain is totally unnecessary and of interest only to those obsessed by Animal Collective. It is evidence for the idea that just because a band has a released a limited edition and very out of print recording, it’s not always good practice to make it available to the masses. The singer sounded like Thom Yorke singing Can, a most unpleasant thought unfortunately realized on this album. This and the following two songs are taken from a radio session but despite this they don’t sound particularly well recorded; there is an awful lot of hum and hiss which, even during my highly under funded college radio days, was unacceptable from a live in-house session. All three pieces are monotonous and mind-numbingly repetitive, void of spirit and emotion.
The four songs that close the album are taken from various live performances. A couple of them make the somewhat dodgy sounding radio session sound like a glossy million dollar production. “Pumpkin Gets a Snakebite” sounds woeful, like it was recorded through a payphone outside the venue. I expect this sort of quality from 10th generation bootleg tapes but not from a release like this.
The performances themselves are average at best and to be honest, I’d be embarrassed to release them if I was Animal Collective. They need all the help they can get to hide the cracks of mediocrity that plague them, Hollinndagain turns these cracks into gaping fissures. There’s no finesse, skill or promise to their playing. The attempts at building up an atmosphere on “Lablakely Dress” are laughable as they make elements that have been used by other artists before to great effect into hideous clichés.
While I can cope with Animal Collective's studio recordings, ropey live recordings of lacklustre performances are nothing but a test of my patience.
samples:
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Everything on Ys is over-the-top, from Newsom's storytelling and flawless playing to the lush orchestral arrangement by Van Dyke Parks to the immense packaging. Downloaders are seriously missing out on the joy of unwrapping the colorful, stunning embossed outer sleeve to reveal the 32-page booklet with gold leaf on the edges. I couldn't get over how arresting this was the first time I opened it. It demanded my attention and the music has lived up to the expectations set by the casing.
Sharing the name with a mythical sunken French city, the lyrics to the songs on Ys are presented like chapters of a story, however it's either like an Exquisite Corpse of sorts, shifting as the music does from various tempos and melodies, or it's all connected in some way that my mind can't quite wrap itself around. In the 12-minute opener "Emily," Joanna calls out to a friend who is gone. In a dream, she promises that she will commit all the stars that Emily has taught her to verse, where later on she longs for her to come home. "Monkey & Bear" is completely unrelated as far as I can tell: a tale of two escaped circus animals who don't know how to survive in the wild but have developed an unnatural love for each other. "Sawdust & Diamonds" is a longform poem, far more abstract than anything else on the album, and perhaps the prettiest piece, stripped down to only Newsom's vocals and harp. "Only Skin," on the other hand, comes within inches of being 17 minutes, and is easily the most deluxe song on the album, with numerous changes throughout the song, wind instruments, banjo, multitracked vocals, percussion, even and Bill Callahan of Smog (but only in really small doses). On the final song, "Cosmia," Joanna has come full circle, calling out to another friend who has gone.
Singer-songwriters with folk tendencies have told stories before, pop musicians have included 16+ minute songs on their albums before (usually nestled in between the rest of the easily digestable singalongs), but there's a remarkable originality on Ys that makes it difficult to find any reference point. Newsom has also done something that her male counterparts usually fail at when tackling a concept this rich with remotely nerdy technique and classical lore, and that's making it enjoyable. Not only is this one of the most technically rich releases this year it is also by far one of the most entertaining.
samples:
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- Lucas Schleicher
- Albums and Singles
Blossoming Noise
All but one of the album's five songs are violent, furious swathes of ear-damaging noise. Anyone who's heard a few Japanese noise records will at least half-know what to expect: lots of white noise or static, gargling metallic explosions, feedback, and maybe some percussive licks of non-rhythm. The other half of the equation, maybe the unpredictable part, is the band's ear for texture and tension. Despite the repetitive, almost unrelenting nature of the noise, there is plenty of variation to be found in American Band's presentation. They may not employ the most original formula in the world, but their willingness to try out different approaches within the same song comes with an upshot: it's hard to know what's coming and when. The background might be Japanese at heart, but there are some distinctive American flavors at work in American Band's debut.
The most impressively unhinged music lay within the two live tracks included. The group proudly declares their name and then begins to rupture every speaker in the house, sparing no expense where volume, intensity, and sheer nastiness are concerned. These are not, however, the best representatives for the band's sound. Thankfully both "First Time in Heels" and "General's Lament" contain elements of restraint and order in a way that I think Wolf Eyes fans would appreciate. For all the indistinguishable cosmic noise American Band fling around, there are recognizable constituent elements that keep their first album from being bogged down by the same old noise attack. Whether the wail of a guitar is necessary or the quiet, brooding circularity of synthetic tones and sheet metal are deemed appropriate, the band is able to provide plenty of dynamics that keep the album moving.
Just as many great noise makers have realized, variation is often the key to drawing listeners in, especially those of us who can't stomach exclusively non-stop, rape-sound recordings. With the amount of open space available on some of these tracks, it's a bit surprising some sort of rhythmic element didn't show up at some point. A track like "Terrified" would really benefit from such a convention. The stuttering, blazing bits of noise at the end practically beg for an accompaniment, but never get one.
I'm usually drawn between hating noise albums and absolutely loving them. This one, however, has me somewhere in the middle. I'm impressed by the band in some ways, but find their creativity lacking, their identity almost non-existent. On the other hand, there are some quality cuts of sound on this album and some of it shows promise: there's always the chance this stuff will only get better. I'll probably listen to this here and there, but I'm anxiously awaiting the band's next effort because that one will decide whether or not they can step up from out of the crowd and capitalize on their willingness to explore.
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- Matthew Amundsen
- Albums and Singles
This latest EP from Freddie Ruppert, aka This Song Is a Mess But So Am I, is captivating from the beginning with its deconstructed beats, rants, and an abundance of distortion thrown in every direction.
Part of the charm is that the songs have so much chaos yet never fall apart because the rhythm churning underneath and the vocals keep things in place. Nor does it hurt that the songs are not purely free-form and are actually about something. While some lingering issues remaining from his mother’s death appear on the disc, he also takes the time to chastise a music critic on "Is This Childish Enough Sean Ford?" and react to a friend’s conversion to over-the-top Christianity on "Congratulations!" The only instrumental is an exploratory untitled track, and is notable for its introspection amidst other songs that prove consistently exuberant and intoxicating.
On this EP, Ruppert manages to turn dense layers of distortion into works of heavy beauty.
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