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- Michael Patrick Brady
- Albums and Singles
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Meerk is, if the bizarre pseudonym didn't give it away, one of the founders of Providence's Fort Thunder collective as well as a member of the most firmly-entrenched of FT musical incarnations, Forcefield. Those discouraged by the willfully obtuse nature of that group's recorded efforts could do worse than rough up this dirty gem, Puffy's first non-cassette release and one that plays off Forcefield's talents for lo-fi squelch-tronica in welcome fashion. Meerk (aka Matt Brinkman) shoulders the arsenal of bleeps, blats, and digital farts that made Roggaboggas such a throbbing fun time, but he adds a backbone of rhythmic chug and swirling, claustrophobic phase-out, owing as much to the psychedelic skronk aesthetic of early Boredoms as to the cassette noise underground.
If patrons were merely startled by Forcefield's stoic army of woolen mammoth-men at 2002's Whitney Biennale, this is the kind of audio program that might have created a legend. Puffy keeps a healthy fascination with vomit-pitch levels of neon-inspired noise sizzle, but here he has eliminated any silence in between, running serpentine loops ad nauseam through the kind of minimalism that, instead of motivating intricate sound analysis or a part-for-the-whole meditation, exists only to the numb the brain into open-mouthed submission, synapses stuck on continuous, receptor-scorching misfire. This surely has roots in early industrial and primitive electro, but the psychedelic influence should not be underestimated, for as claustrophobic, strangled, and unrelenting as Nung can get, the record seems to continually revisit sections of acid-headed clarity, spacious clearings amid the hiss, where modulated phase effects commune for brief flights into the radioactive sunset, and everything seems, for a moment, peaceful. Even some of the pulse-drowned, intensely repetitive sections contain potential for an accidental mysticism, a grainy, hypnotic charm that would find Meerk riding his desk of cracked electronics down golden country lanes in search of Barrett and Beefheart and other fellow problem children. As a bonus, Nung contains two lock grooves willing to prolong the head-cleaning bliss indefinitely for anyone well adjusted enough to tune in. Always in character, Puffy has placed the grooves strategically, helping them to slip under the needle without warning, a trick that proves a perfect resistance-shattering mechanism and had me bobbing away like a catatonic idiot for longer than is probably healthy.
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Knowing that this is a collection of music from previous EPs (and then some) makes the joyous and erratic beauty present all that more enjoyable. David Edwards knows what he wants to do with his music: there's not a moment of sound that isn't somehow strangely beautiful, sweetly smooth, or surprisingly fluid. Instruments come together in flirtatious ways and rhythm excuses itself from predictability to usher in the kind of melodic surprises that early electronic bands managed to pull out of their hat through variation in repetition.
"Don't Be A Slave To No Computer" clicks and bubbles with the kind of percussive pillow-noise and sizzling, seemingly random, and jumpy melodies that makes programmed music sound so human. There's a daring glimmer in their souls that suggests caution but favors the extremes and the rawness of jumping into the middle of a power that can't be controlled. "Let Me Out" grinds with the sound of aquatic organs and forests bathed in silver, the electronic sounds becoming tangible and sensuous instead of alienating, industrial, and altogether cold. The middle portion of Rinse (tracks five through eight) have a more digital sound, but don't suffer for it. The cut up pieces of live percussion mix well with the horn-like synthesizers on "The Downs" while "Albert Park Music" rolls along the tunnels of abandoned highways with hidden pianos and omnipresent percussion. The only thing suffering here is the relatively straight-forward pop music emerging out this section of the album; the stuttering and awkward time signatures that made the first part sound so fresh are absent and replaced with a sound that almost sounds geared toward a live performance with instrumental musicians. This is how the album ends, on something of a slick note. I'm a fan of the raw and unpredictable, so I'm not so inclined to enjoy the relaxed vocals on "Lady Came from Baltic Wharf" or the easy-going flutes on "Rockpoolin'," but the music is no less remarkable for that.
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- Administrator
- Albums and Singles
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- Administrator
- Albums and Singles
Okay, already, I take it all back. The EP from this Brighton foursome released late last year didn't light me up, but this record is a delight from first track to last, and in between it has just enough touches of brilliance to guarantee a place in my CD player for weeks or months to come.Too Pure
The single, "On Parade," doesn't even scratch the surface of the planet they've touched down on — even though the album gets its title from the track — and playing the whole record on repeat won't duplicate the atmosphere they breathe, but the downloadable pictures of the topology are a sight to see. This is the real girl rock, with the members firing on all cylinders every note and beat. There is an eighties influence for sure, but Electrelane are deft as well as daft in the way they intertwine their various styles, sometimes all in the same track. A driving bassline and French vocals open the album with a swaying rock number to make the shoegazer set proud. After the punk angst of the single, a soaring choral number takes over the speakers, and I'm immediately more impressed by this band than I ever was before. The hits keep coming, one after another, with the quiet infection of "Birds" and "Oh Somba!" being balanced by plenty of bombast and energy as well as almost strategic experimentation and space-out rock of the album's closing instrumentals. In fact, it's been a long time since I've heard a more calculated and coordinated release, where one can listen to the whole record start to finish and not skip one track. The growth of the band from their earlier releases is astounding, and the record reveals more and more with repeat listens. Where before I wasn't sure about Electrelane, I am now a converted disciple, and I cannot wait for the next sermon. 
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