The Public Eyesore label has been extremely prolific in recent years, bringing out some of the most abstract and out of left field works from artists that are either extremely obscure or simply getting their start in the world of sound art.  Bob Marsh's disc therefore definitely fits in the raison d'etre of the label, as it is almost impossible to classify, yet has the sense of experimentation and even some sonic similarities to some of the most abstract of the early industrialists.

After 24 years David Tibet's debut full-length as Current 93 has been reissued in its original form on compact disc. The audio has been completely re-mastered to great effect, but the additions available on the 1992 release from Durtro are gone, replaced only in the first 1,000 copies by an icy Andrew Liles remix. That remix rounds the album out quite nicely, but the omissions are nonetheless annoying.

Originally put out as a limited CD-R upon Steven Stapleton's appearance in Portland, Oregon, in celebration of the release of She and Me Fall Together in Free Death back in 2003, this recording now appears on vinyl for the first time. With muffled voices and strange drops in audio that at first don't seem intentional, this is an odd album in a discography that practically defines the term.

Cloudland Canyon deliver on the promises of a kraut-rock epic hinted at by their previous releases with their full length debut on kranky. The album traverses a breadth of sounds, embracing funky treadmill grooves, swelling synthesizer baths, and bucolic psych jaunts.

Alessandra Celletti has previously interpreted Glass, Gurdjieff and Satie with her splendidly vivid piano style. This third album of dramatic original material adds vocals and drums on some pieces and, incidentally, reminds me why I listen to music.

While this moderately hyped debut showcases the tried-and-true qualities of these two seasoned rockers decorated with bloodstained major label merit badges and a priceless caliber of indie credibility, rarely does it step outside their established comfort zones to celebrate this sacred union of American misanthropes.

An established New England artist, Murray has worked in the framework of "drone" for quite a while now.  Before it was the trendy thing to do, I might add.  In that respect, it is no surprise that his work transcends the "let's see how long we can sustain this note for" school, but more of the pure, dissonant minimalism akin to the old masters like Niblock and Xenakis.  What comprises this album then is therefore dissonant and difficult, yet compelling and hypnotic in its brutish subtlety.

A three way live improvisation recorded at the Musica Genera festival in 2006, the 30 minute set (indexed as 4 tracks for convenience) manages to be extraordinary abstract in sound, yet features some of the most structurally sound improvisational elements that I have heard in years.  Crossing the often faint boundaries between electro-acoustic, ambience, and free jazz, it is pretty unique in its overall sound.

For reasons unknown, Thomas Brinkmann's Georgian muse simultaneously presents her third and fourth full-length releases for the clandestine Max Ernst imprint, comprising three discs worth of all-new material.   Seldom groundbreaking, flagrantly derivative, and intermittently appealing, Natalie Beridze's purposefully glitchy compositions appear apropos of the icier temperatures of the season.

Instrumental bands are everywhere and invariably they sound like some combination of Mogwai, Godspeed and Explosions in the Sky. Other influences creep in but rarely do they escape the dreaded "post rock" tag, not without some gimmick anyway. The Jimmy Cake do manage to come across as being separate to this whole thing, despite on paper sounding like they are the archetypal late '90s/early '00s art rock band: nine core members, string section, unusual instruments and long songs. No, they are more than that; they have a creative spirit that pushes them beyond their contemporaries.

Just over a year after Klick Revolution, the dazzling, spiritual sequel to 2000's much lauded Klick, the veteran boundary-pushing German techno producer strives—and invariably fails—to capture a claustrophobic personal experience.  A risible counterfeit masquerading as artsy, post-millennial singer-songwriter fare, this atypical record exhausts its pretense almost immediately and rarely recovers from the obviously nonexistent heft of false malaise.

While folk music these days seems to have forgotten all the traditional songs that make it the music of the folk, some artists are remembering the old songs that sound as vibrant today as they probably did when they were performed first. Directing Hand know what they are up to when it comes to traditional music, there is a reverence for these songs yet no fear of adding the sound of a new generation to the pieces. Combining these dusty old tunes with improvised pieces of their own, this album is a true new folk music; it sounds like the here and now.

The looming silhouettes of the pyramids on the cover give some idea of what to expect on Sam Shalabi's latest release. Born in Egypt and finished in Canada, Eid is an eclectic and ecstatic album. Each track sounds like it was pulled from a local radio station in Cairo yet no two pieces sound like they came from the same station. Shalabi fuses Western and Arabic music without straying into trite, watered-down fusion territories.

Before I even got around to playing this album I was intrigued by the album's packaging. The red fuzzy sleeve contains both the CD (obviously) and sleeve notes printed on a thin, Styrofoam-like material. The different textures of the materials are at first baffling but then a certain kind of logic begins to emerge while listening to the album. The music itself changes texture persistently, from soft to rough, from hard to gooey; by the time I adjust to a piece I am lost again. It is a wonderful feeling, like being a little drunk in a foreign town.

Although collaborators since the early 1980s, Raw Powder marks the first official release from this duo (excluding self-released CD-Rs) that encapsulates some 18-plus years of rock and roll into a sprawling, slap-dash collection of 24 tracks, intentionally raw and rough around the edges.  While many may know Denham more for his/her connections to Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV, Greater Than One, and other integral bands of the era, s/he proves here that his musical sensibilities are just as noteworthy as his paintings and artwork.

The premise alone sounds should be enough to get people's attention: a folk "supergroup" featuring members of Yellow Swans, Deerhoof, Six Organs of Admittance, and Charalambides, among others.  Considering the pedigree, it is safe to assume that it won't be folk in the conventional sense.  Instead of the "overly sensitive guy in the coffee shop with an acoustic guitar" folk sense, it's more of an ethnography of early Americana music.  It is dense, rich, and more than just a bit sinister in nature.

Exploring the limitations of an instrument can be more enlightening than obsessing about perfect tone or versatility. On Everydays, Onda and Licht use the button noise and trashcan fidelity of cassettes as a tool rather than a handicap. The results range from bucolic chatter to full on noise assault.

Mountain Battles sounded like a superficial hodgepodge with few promising moments. Desperately seeking positives, I sought a suitable listening venue and found one with a Breeders fan: my hairdresser.

Fans of the post-punk shouldn't let fear of diminishing returns dissuade them from checking out The Lines. While Memory Span is not a proverbial lost masterpiece of rock and roll, the songs collected display enough nuance and diversity to separate the band from usual glut of also-rans and could-have-beens.

One of the early bands associated with Factory Records, Section 25 never quite got the recognition that their peers did, and unfairly so.  Their sound captured the zeitgeist of that early era just as effectively as Joy Division or A Certain Ratio, but they never seemed to set the world on fire quite the same.  Coinciding with their "reunion" album, last year's Part-Primitiv, LTM has reissued early S25 material, including this first "best of" compilation, spanning their entire 30-year career.