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After concentrating on other projects for most of last year including film soundtracks, remixes and sessions for other artists such as Tori Amos and Afro Celt Sound System, Wobble returns with a new solo album on his own label. Perhaps it's too solo.
Fly begins promising enough as a few of the (unimaginatively numbered) tracks float Harry Beckett's mildly effected muted trumpet over a typically massive bass guitar groove and programmed beats, three being especially jazzy. "Two" is a solid, up-tempo pop number if you don't pay too close attention to Wobble's daft, half sung lyrics and concentrate instead on the driving bass and backdrop wails of trance veteran Cat Von-Trapp. But from here things get surprisingly bland, first with a soundtrack-like mid-section. Sandwiched between the aimless organ and piano progressions of tracks "Four" and "Six" is an inane spoken story, a near eight minute waste of space that won't stand-up to repeated listening. "Seven" brings the bass and beat back but some synth, pipes and flutes do little to spice up the rhythm. "Nine" reclaims the glory with a bouncy bass line, recalling classic Public Image a bit, and supple sax layers by Charlotte Glasson. The finale simply retreads the vibe of track one for a tedious nine and a half minutes. Altogether, Fly lacks purpose, focus and flavor. Wobble fares better in full-fledged collaborations like Shout At The Devil, with Temple of Sound, Passage to Hades, with Evan Parker and Molam Dub, with Molam Lao, not to mention his short-lived stint in The Damage Manual.
samples:
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After their brilliant 1995 album, Sargasso Sea, the band seemed to start losing focus, and the quality of their records took a downturn. The resulting output was often mediocre and meandering. On Dark Island, however, they have once again come into their own, recapturing the cohesion and clarity of their early work. Pram's overall sound is generally the same: it's as if the band were locked in a toy store after it closed for the day, and recorded an album with anything they encountered that could produce noise. Add to that the light, endearingly imperfect vocals of Rosie and her lyrics that read like pages torn from someone's diary of dreams. What makes Dark Island not only different, but more successful than previous works is that it manages to be diverse while maintaining a sense of wholeness. Opening the album is "Track of the Cat," a playfully exotic instrumental piece layered with echoing, slithery rhythms which parallels a later track, "Sirocco," which would have been perfectly at home in one of Jess Franco's late '60s psycho-sleaze movies. The film noir styling of "Penny Arcade" and "The Pawnbroker" precede the gleeful "Paper Hats" and the moody yet warm "Peepshow." Chimes, whistles, xylophones, and lilting keyboards can be found in every nook and cranny. "Goodbye," the eighth track, starts to wind Dark Island down with a lullaby which stands out as one of the best songs the band has ever done, and the delicate cosmic twang of "Leeward" sounds as if it could have come directly from Brian Eno's Apollo. Pram have truly outdone themselves on this delightful record.
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In print once again is the CD edition of "Sumac," a 71+ minute extended version of the same track which originally appeared on a one-sided transparent 12" single released in 1997 by Robot. For the duration of the track, a solid bass tone underscores while unidentifiable flying objects and whispery homemade wind instruments play and reverberate madly.Integrated Circuit
At loud volumes, the experience is nothing short of intense. Listening to the full duration, however, is most certainly an exercise in patience and stamina. What makes this recording so eerie is perhaps the fact that it's actually going backwards, something that's not strikingly clear until the last moments, where it seems every phantom instrument, shrouded in effects, reveal themselves only in time for everything to come to a sudden, and unexpected halt.
Possibly the reason why this fetches for such a high price at online auctions is its striking similarity to drone recordings by Chalk with Organum years before this. While this is a marvelous recording, I don't recommend paying exorbitant prices for it and now that it's in print again, it's not necessary.
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- Genesis P-Orridge & Cotton Ferox "Word Ship"
- Genesis P-Orridge & Cotton Ferox "Word Ship (Cosmopolitan Dub)"
- Thee Majesty "Soul Searching"
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- Mike Tiernan
- Albums and Singles
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It's not that Nocturama is badfrom start to finish, what really plagues it is its uneven quality.Cave fails in properly directing the Bad Seeds to create a mood to thealbum. While the opening tracks are very solid, they hold too close tothe path set by the last two albums and make little progress. Thestrikingly rocking (and horrible) "Dead Man in My Bed" provides anawkward pit stop in the middle of the album. This song sees Caveregress light years lyrically, and muscally it sounds as if he istrying to force himself to reclaim the explosive energy of earlyreleases. While it is a relief that he immediately retreats back to thecalm and collected sound he has clearly become more comfortable with,Cave's placement of this track right in the middle makes the album adifficult listen. This track would have worked better if placed towardsthe end of the album, as is done with the intense closer. "Babe I'm OnFire" is a great success and gives evidence that despite, "Dead Man,"Cave is still able to rant along perfectly when the Bad Seeds decide toplay their hardest. Every second of this 15-minute long tirade isabsolutely essential and both astonising and disappointing. For if Cavecould have found the proper bridge from "Wonderful Life" to "Babe I'mOn Fire," instead of a messy collection of occasionally uninspiredsongs, then this would have been a much better record.
Nick Cave has raised the bar so high that expectations demand a great album, not simply just a few great songs. Nocturamawas recorded in seven days and it shows. The Bad Seeds at their bestare not spontaneous but deliberate, lets hope the next one takes thatinto consideration.
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- Michael Patrick Brady
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For those of us who do not have our very own lavish, sunlight-flooded house with a private lake in the backyard, the trio of Charles Atlas has captured the all-encompassing scenery, beauty, and fragrant air, and packaged it for our livingrooms and headsets. Once a pet project of Charles Wyatt (former guitarist for Dart and the one who clearly put the "magic" in early Piano Magic recordings), Charles Atlas soon became a fulltime duo with the fulltime involvement of former Rosemarys keyboardist Matt Greenberg. On this, the fourth album, they have expanded to a truly mesmerising ensemble with the addition of Sascha Galvagna.
Each song has a timeless instrumental delicacy, patiently developing bit by bit with hypnotic, cyclic guitar riffs, piano or organ, and occasional pulses, chimes, and even a performance on the first track by vocalist and saw player Denise Bon Giovanni. It's minimalistic in the number of sources used, but the result is never droning or predictable. At no points in this album does their sound ever become dull, tired, or boring, even on the 12 minute opener which, like a number of the other 7+ minute songs, could easily go on forever. At times, like "The Deadest Bar," the piano treatments are highly remeniscent of the classic Harold Budd/Cocteau Twins collaboration, The Moon and the Melodies. The variety of instrumentation from the throb of "One Foot Under," to the guitar-piano counterpoint of "Factotum," to the drum machine-colored "Strategies for Success Boxes," to the piano-led "Port, Noise Complaint" is what separates the trio of Charles Atlas from other quiet instrumental groups whose sleepiness can easily assure them a spot in the record store on the shelf next to Yanni. The trio, who are now based in San Francisco, will be on the road with Jessica Bailiff shortly. I hope the lucky ones who can make it do their damndest to make sure the sound of chatter and cash registers are kept at a bare minimum.
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