Adam Pierce has evolved Mice Parade from its humble beginnings to a full-fledged accomplished live ensemble, a feat especially impressive given his other dealings in HiM, touring with M√∫m, and running Bubble Core. After the success and bombast of that experience, Pierce went back home and recorded another album mostly by himself, but he felt the need to incorporate his experiences on the road and some of his friends from other projects, culminating in the fantastic new work of Obrigado Saudade.

This release should arrive with a grain of sadness for, in January, Reynols disbanded after ten years of tireless activity. The prolific Argentine group spent the majority of this time in relative obscurity, forging ahead with large ambitions and an unflinching devotion to idiosyncratic craft that inevitably left them well-situated within the pantheon of frayed roots-rockers, brash experimenters, and psychedelic casualties. Their willingness to experiment with the most eccentric of concepts always made Reynols seem extra special, even among the small crop of similarly broad-minded collectives.

The Chicago Underground (whose members vary in number on their various releases) uses the malleable forms of jazz and electronic music to explore sounds and thoughts that could only be captured in the vistas of these boundless styles. Slon is an experiment in forms and styles, exploring the brassy expressionism of both genres to deliver a stirring display of meaning and intent through their inspired tones.

Tomlab
I was late discovering 2002's Thought for Food,The Books' gorgeous debut album of electro-acoustic sound collages.That album had a guileless charm, the songs seeming to form out ofnowhere, spilling accidentally out of a patchwork of crisply reproducedguitars, seemingly random voice samples, field recordings and otherunidentifiable sources. The laptop-treated melodies fell roughly intothe same category as Four Tet's Pause album, but with an earfor synchronicity and miniature sound events that reinforced theprimacy of randomness, rather than the rigidity of regular rhythms andmelody. It was a refreshing album that unpredictably alternated betweennostalgia, absurdity and ingenuity. The Lemon of Pink wasreleased last year, and I was once again late in giving it a listen.With this record, The Books display the same talent for collage andmelody, but I can't help but notice how calculated, and hence lessenjoyable this album seems compared to the relatively unaffected Thought for Food.The ideas also seem a little thinner on this outing, and the wonderfulspaciousness of the debut LP has been replaced by a cavalcade of derigeur clicks and glitches, overwhelming many of the songs. Nocomplaints with the first few minutes of the album's opening track,cycling as it does through a scrapbook of scratchy, recollective folkand bluegrass records, a woman phonetically intoning the nonsensetitle, and a hundred indeterminate snatches of sound. But after thispromising couple minutes, it all segues into a relatively tepid CatPower-esque guitar-folk ballad that is something of a letdown followingits kaleidescopic introduction. "Tokyo" utilizes samples from aJapanese airport along with its vaguely Eastern guitar plucking andviolin sawing, digitally spliced and looped to circumvent melodyentirely. It's a bit of an obvious tactic for The Books. "There is NoThere" suffers from editing overload, but still manages to be quitelovely, especially the pause at the song's center for a sampledescribing Gandhi's theory of non-violent protest. This transforms intoa rollicking banjo and guitar duet that is reminiscent of John Faheyaugmented by Jim O'Rourke's talent for laptop assemblage. The rest of The Lemon of Pinkis largely short song sketches and useless filler, making this alreadybrief album even lighter in content, more like an EP than afull-length. I suppose if I had heard this album outside the context ofThe Books previous work, I might have thought that it was a passablypretty work of indie-folktronica. But coming as it did from a band thatproduced such an impressive debut, The Lemon of Pink is a bit deficient.

samples:

• The Lemon of Pink
• There is No There
• Take Time

Rune Grammofon
I sometimes catch myself slipping into label worship, a dangerous andinfrequent indulgence, but one that has yet to free my covetous eyefrom anything bearing the Rune Grammofon stamp. The Norwegian labelcelebrated its 30th release last year with this double-CD/book, actingnot so much as a retrospective, but more as an attempted rounding-outof the label's focus, a condensed look at what the past has produced,and what the future holds. Reading through Money Will Ruin Everything,I am immediately reminded of the many labels where such a release wouldbe long overdue. Founder Rune Kristoffersen cites Tzadik, 4AD, Factory,ECM, and Blue Note as inspirations, and there can be no denying thatGrammofon's consistency of presentation, commitment to quality, and itseffected grouping of a variety of artists, under one vaguely-definedethos, find much in common with those older, iconoclastic imprints. Therisk in releasing something like Money, especially so early ina label's life, is an over-confidence, a presumptuousness surroundingone's accomplishments thus far, and the possibility of thesepresumptions, proven or not, having a negative effect on futureprojects. Money is quick to address these concerns in itstitle, a cheeky flirtation with the idea of book as a sell-out, andlater inside, as the title page is preceded by the inscription: "Thisbook is a record cover." The effort to make the book seem like merelyan expanded sleeve is clear throughout; a great number of pages aredevoted to Kim Hiorthøy's beautiful design work, the hallmark forGrammofon discs and the undoubted cause of many introductions to thelabel. The pages include detailed examinations of each Hiorthøy sleevedesign, making clear the individuality of every release within thelarger schema, and making Money seem much more like an artbookthan an attempt to venerate the label's five-year past. The book evencontains an essay devoted to the designer's contributions, and thoughthe text brings comparisons to legends like Barney Bubbles and PeterSaville, these names do not feel far off after exposure to Hiorthøy'sbody of work, which perfectly suits the colorful character of theGrammofon catalog. The great variety and quality of the label's musicare the real focal points of the book and refuse to be compromised by Wireeditor Rob Young's introductory essay or the printed interview withKristoffersen. The owner's diplomatic words actually conclude Moneynicely, describing the release as "just a signpost in the road," aclaim that is perfectly supported by the music on the two discs, allexclusive and including substantial contributions from almost everyRune artist and a number of excellent tracks from otheryet-to-be-released members of the blossoming Norwegian scene (mostnotably music from Maja Ratkje's new Fe-mail project, new signingSusanna And The Magical Orchestra, and a brilliant track by Hiorthøyhimself). A crystalline, Nordic cool can be found in just abouteverything on Kristoffersen's label, but all easy comparisons endthere. The curating founder's tastes lie in the most shadowy andgrittiest of improv (Supersilent, Scorch Trio), in the most lulling andapproachable of experimental electronic (Skyphone, Alog), andeverywhere in between, grazing pristine folk (Tove Nilsen), shuddering,skeletal techno (Svalastog), and the unclassifiable music of MajaRatkje and Spunk, who seem to blur the lines between noise andchildhood. Perhaps the unifying characteristic of all Rune Grammofonmusic is that everything, given time, feels capable of deeply personalinvestment. There is a very unique immediacy to these artists' musicthat looks inward toward the same "enchanted domain" that essayistAdrian Shaughnessy describes in Hiorthøy's art, making it impossible todescribe Rune music without touching on all the spectral degrees,frequency shifts, and, as Rob Young says, the "subtle colour shading"that indicate a life lived, complex, radiant, and full of surprises. Moneyoffers little more than this; it is a celebration of what every Runerelease celebrates, and the perfect introduction to a label that hasyet to stop short of its own high standards.

samples:

• Kim HiorthøyWait
• Fe-mailJacob's Leketøy
• Andreas MelandEplesky

Thrill Jockey
In 1948, George Orwell painted a bleak image of a future world. While 1984may have looked somewhat extreme, in the 1980s, the world did seemrather bleak with the cold war, the seemingly richest and greediestleaders the world had seen, and threat of total annihilation. The morepopular of the somewhat underground music played on these fears, asfuturistic synth music from people like Fad Gadget and Gary Numan werehardly utopian. It's been exactly 20 years since 1984 and the future isnow and it could easily be the future people have worried about foryears. The power of money and greed has corrupted the systems worldwidebeyond reasonable solutions; violence permeates everything; terrorismis ubiquitous; countries are merging; and the press is controlled andcensored by the government. The separation of wealth and middle classgrows exponentially where the urban wastelands are not so unimaginableas the onset of middle class poverty accelerates. Even the presidentspeaks a dumbed down version of the English language! Most relevant tothe review of this album: people in the country which claims to be themost free can now choose to detain people under without due process.Liberation is quite a weird concept. As the superpowers decide to"liberate" other countries, it seems their own back yard is hardlyliberated. Nowhere is this more apparent than Trans Am's residence,Washington DC, where armed military guards protect the gateways to thecapitol. A collage of fire, violence, and the home-grown billionaireswho are fucking this world up beyond belief cover this album, where,inside, the music is probably one of the most angry, intense albumsTrans Am have recorded. Fans who hated TA will be pleased toknow that the immediate urgency and intensity of older Trans Am hasreturned with a vengeance. The sung on the album are few, thankfully,and are clearly there as elements to the songs as opposed to thedriving hair band aesthetic that was TA. The album opens withthe lound, thunderous "Outmoder," and continues on with a cut up fromGeorge W. Bush on "Uninvited Guest" where the "president" speaks thetruth thanks to rearranged words. It's almost an homage toConsolidated's Friendly Fa$cism album from 1991 where Bush Sr'swords were cut up on the album's second track to portray similartruths. Trans Am compete with the madness as cars, traffic, sirens, andother city ambience can be heard outside as the band recorded much ofthis album with the windows open. It does take a few side steps to keepit varied, including the gorgeous "Pretty Close to the Edge" whichopens with an acoustic guitar riff and flows gently into a smooth drummachine ending before seamlessly jumping into the next track, "Is TransAm Really Your Friend?" The album is arranged for the vinyl medium,almost exactly 45 minutes (remember 90 minute cassettes?), with twoversions of the song "Divine Invasion" closing each side, where theband (probably unintentionally) essentially jams on the closing riff ofthe Beatles' "I Am the Walrus," which in my opinion is perhaps one ofthe most apocalyptic riffs of its time. Like any effective piece ofartwork, it's not the ability of the talents of the artist which makesthe piece of art great, it's the way in which the artwork makes theobserver think for themselves and make up their own mind. Trans Amaren't going to break out in any show-offery to prove they can playtheir instruments, they'd rather present something that will hopefullybe enough of something to react to.

samples:

• June
• Remote Control
• Divine Invasion II

Textile
The past few months have seen the dispersal of a clutch of sideprojects by the four members of Volcano The Bear, including Songs ofNorway (Aaron Moore and Nick Mott), Earth Trumpet (Laurence Coleman),Guignol (Moore, Coleman and Jeremy Barnes of Bablicon) and El Monte(Mott solo). However, none of these projects have been as immediatelyenjoyable and as consistently rewarding as Daniel Padden's work as TheOne Ensemble. The Owl Of Fivesis Padden's second full-length album, a collection of composed piecesrun the gamut stylistically, but maintain an integrity that makes allof it unmistakably the work of the same talented musician. Paddenfreely borrows Oriental melodies, Fahey-style revenant blues, Indianclassical, plaintive piano ballads and outsider folk traditions tocreate a platter of tuneful exploration that captured and held myattention for its entire length. The One Ensemble's arrangements arecleverly sparse, using as little as possible to convey the fragilemelodies that populate the album. This compositional economy is the keyelement that allows The Owl Of Fives to achieve its stylisticshifts without seeming calculated or overwrought. In fact, as the albumprogresses from start to finish, the compounding of disparate musicstrategies gets better with each track, rather than becoming tiresome.The loose exotica of "Farewell, My Porcupine" welds Kyoto folk toArthur Lyman piano jazz, replete with multitracked non-verbal chanting.Elsewhere, stately medieval melodies are created in the coversationsbetween Padden's violin, acoustic guitar and piano. "Early Music of theMorning" takes its cue from the "morning raga," a term used in Indianclassical music to connote a languid, relaxing melody appropriate formorning ablutions. Against a hazy drone, Padden pulls gently bendingtones from his cello that brilliantly mimic a sitar. The recurringmusical theme of "Still Flinging Clowns" most closely resemble theBear, with its shambling, whimsical atmosphere and vocal glossolalia.The intimate production captures those tiny flaws - the scrape of cellostrings, the clearing of throats - that lend an organic, present-tensequality to the music. With The Owl Of Fives, The One Ensemble of Daniel Padden has created a work of understated, melodic brilliance.

samples:

• Farewell, My Porcupine
• Early Music of the Morning
• Shambles

Mute
With their first full length release, They Threw us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top,Liars made their existence known to the world outside Williamsburg asthe most interesting product of that gentrified province, moreintriguing than the achingly deliberate sleaze of the Yeah Yeah Yeahsand decidedly darker than the goofy warble of the Rapture. A few yearsdown the road sees those latter two bands consorting with Carson Dalyand the buzz bin, while the recently shaken Liars lineup (minus theformidable bass and drum duo from the first LP) holed up in a NewJersey basement with their recording equipment and a notebook ofaudience-alienating ideas. The bands' prevailing neuroses have shiftedfrom bombast and bravado to paranoia and claustrophobia, which revealthemselves in oblique chants about witches and magic. "Broken Witch"(perhaps the shortest Liars song title to date) opens the album with adeep electronic pulse that sidles ominously alongside the staggeringdrum kit. Though intentionally hook-less, the song's offbeat, hypnoticfluctuations are as engaging as anything the band has done previously.The track sets the intended mood perfectly, conveying that this albumis not going to be pretty, and that it may not be danceable, but canstill be compelling enough to want to know where the rapidlyaccelerating incantations are leading. "There's Always Room on theBroom" mixes distorted voices and fuzzed out samplers with a creepyfalsetto sing-a-long chorus that eats away at the defenses like amalevolent earworm until the song has completely seized control ofrational judgment and begins to appear on the mind at its own volition.Combined with the hysterical strobe-animation video included with thedisc, the song is a devious and extremely successful attempt atreprogramming listeners and viewers to find the unlistenablelistenable. "They Don't Want Your Corn, They Want Your Kids" is theclosest to the early Liars bass lines and kick beats, a brief reprievefrom the murky fear of tracks like "We Fenced Other Gardens With theBones of Our Own," with its desperate cry of "We're doomed! We'redoomed!" that pierces through the indiscriminate chanting aboutcauldrons and evil spells. These songs capitalize on the darkness andspooky atmosphere that were hinted at in earlier efforts that wereobscured by the snap of a dance-punk bass line, driving the band (andtheir audience) into more and more unfamiliar territory until much oftheir sound and style are unrecognizable. They Were Wrong, So We Drownedis a reactionary record, forged in the glare of the spotlight thrustupon the band in the wake of their catchy debut. Rather than linger inthe comfortable bed they made for themselves, and potentially reap thebenefits of a wider appeal, they chose to start from scratch andchallenge themselves. In the end, the adventurousness of this decisionwill benefit them far more, as Liars have demonstrated that they are acapable, inventive band with more than just one trick up their sleeves. 

samples:

• Broken Witch
• There's Always Room on the Broom
• Flow My Tears, the Spider Said

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.

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.

Textile
That familiar spirit of playful chaos, randomness and intuitive groupimprovisation I've come to expect from Volcano The Bear is in fine formthroughout The Idea Of Wood.Even though VTB have been releasing music since 1996, this LP onTextile Records is only their third full-length studio album. The bulkof their work is scattered across a clutch of live cassettes and CD-Rs,10" vinyl editions, EPs and compilations. The Inhazer Decline and Five Hundred Boy Pianoshowed what the Bear could do when challenged to make a coherent album- tightly produced and concise, yet accurately reproducing the almostaccidental, improvisatory feel of their live shows. This is not an easytask. Consider other free-folk improv ensembles such as Jackie-OMotherfucker, Sunburned Hand of the Man and No Neck Blues Band; theiralbums tend to be hit-or-miss affairs dominated by unfocused meanderingwith occasional eruptions of senseless cacophony. In stark contrast, The Idea of Woodis a study in controlled chaos. VTB's singular grasp of group dynamicslends itself to the album format; their loose, disparate improvisationsare consistently reigned in and alchemized into instant skewed pop.Comparisons to The Residents, Faust and This Heat spring to mind, butthe Bear form their own unique clearing in the woods in which to shit.Itchy, atonal violin scrapes and insect buzzes flit nervously on "SheWhistles, I Cough Like A Tiger," a clattery improv that happens uponsome genuinely riveting moments of pure outsider weirdness. There isclear vibe of woodland ruralism that pervades The Idea Of Wood,as if it were the product of tree-dwelling hermits communicatingthrough a primitive language of acoustical phonetics. Aaron Moore'shushed vocals whispered over the warm buzzes and banjo scales of"Golden Hotbite" sound eerily similar to Robert Wyatt's muttering hobodelivery. "Woman Who Weighs Out The Wood" immerses the listener in anorganic sound environment where a gentle bed of cathedral chanting andmedieval percussion cushions the processed squawking of crows. It'sJohn Renbourn's Sir John A Lot Of as produced by Yamatsuka Eye."Curly Robot" is this album's beating heart, a 10-minute excursion thatbegins with muted jazz but transforms into a simmering invocation ofthe pastoral gods of Frazer's Golden Bough. Miles ahead of theirfree-folk contemporaries, Volcano The Bear's The Idea Of Wood is teeming with life and coursing with sympathetic magic.

samples:

• Golden Hotbite
• Woman Who Weighs Out The Wood
• The Mountains Among Us

Force Of Nature/Hospital
Among those in the know, Deathpile stands out as one of the finestpower electronics acts in the United States today. This incarnation ofthe project, consisting of founder Jonathan Canady and keyboardistDavid E. Williams, is as menacing and unsettling as ever, setting itssights on the true crime story of Gary Leon Ridgeway, ultimately knownas the Green River Killer. From the rumbling tones of the opener"Genesis," it becomes painfully clear that G.R.is a dark and gruesome journey into the sick heart of a serialmurderer. Not suitable for the weak of heart. the subsequent trackscrank up the intensity and the aggression one hundred fold.. Riding thecrushing waves of hot guttural noise on "Addicted" is the inhumanmonologue of Canady's roaring first-person narrative mixed withsnippets from an actual survivor interview. Taking this type of hideousreality-as-entertainment a step further, "Known Victims" painstakinglychronicles Ridgeway's fourty nine known victims over the course oftwelve and a half minutes, with an ironic and ominous female voicemonotonously reciting vital information as if off a checklist. However,the next track "All You'll Ever Get" claims that there may have been asmany as eighty more murdered women, keeping in with the type ofdepraved gloating Canady has already exhibited throughout thispersonification. Refusing to let up even after capture and arrest,"Kenworth" displays the murderer's defiance and sense ofaccomplishment, augmented by the track's nauseating mantra of "Who'slaughing now?" By the time the curious and vulgar unanswered questionsof "You Will Never Know"arrive, Deathpile's aural and psychologicalassault has left its mark, and the uncertainties reverberate endlesslyin the murky pool of phasing electronics. While the inclusion of alyric booklet may result in some snickering among the jaded types, theoverall quality of these tracks cannot be overlooked. Concise andto-the-point like all power electronics albums should be, G.R.represents a powerful and memorable moment in not only Deathpile'smusical career but also in record labels Force of Nature and Hospital.As the possibility of a final Deathpile performance looms (tentativelyscheduled to take place in March in New York City), this album may verywell be one of the final chapters in the history of this project, anending that is as uneasy to swallow as that of Gary Ridgeway.

samples:

• Genesis
• Kenworth
• Known Victims

dOc / Grob
The next addition to in increasing collection of music by thesefantastically driven sonic players (see: Trapist, Radian, Dean Roberts)marries some of the free jazz tendencies with an affinity for retronoisemaking devices. Whereas the Trapist album reviewed last week wouldappeal to a number of Talk Talk fans, this album will probably find awarm place in the heart of many Wolf Eyes fans. While the liner notesdescribe the process of recording with respect to a room's atmosphereand space, my own mental image of the record is quite different. I seea very alien world. A world where the physical laws of nature that wehave grown accustomed to on this planet do not necessarily apply. Newcolors, new landscapes, and a new language, all of which are neitherdescribable nor translatable, but something which has to be experiencedfirst hand to truly appreciated. Recorded in 2001 and 2002, faintlytapped drum kits and timid guitars provide stability and recognitionwhile outbursts of analogue static and high frequency communicationlines blur the electromagnetism in the atmosphere. The planet and itscharacteristics are brilliantly established through "Part 1" and "Part2," while by "Part 3," actual beings are seemingly introduced. Like theutter bizzareness of the film Fantastic Planet,these foreign beings do not take recongnizable forms nor communicate inthe same way humans understand. It's on this track, "Part 3," whereit's almost as if a conversation is taking place between the aliens.Whether or not the quartet is imagining such a world during theirrecording is a different story, but the music created between themembers is very conversational, simply without words as we know them."Part 4" is much like a human contact would be to this new world. Thealien landscapes have been established but the guitar introducesitself, and at first, tries to mimic the electronic hums, drones andsqueals. As the contact between explorers and natives develops, eachtake turns in demonstrating what each species can do: the guitar andbass begin to play more familiar lines and between riffs, seems toalternate with the electronics for attention focus. This continues andescalates to the point of everybody playing together in a audio soup ofsorts, where everybody has let down their guard and has grown afondness for sharing themselves with new found friends. If Die InstabilitŠt der Symmetrieis like a visit to an alien world, the final track, "Part 5" is muchlike the sorrowful departure, as the melodies and tunes form in a veryconcluding manner, with low bass notes in a melancholy motion as thenew found friends must say goodbye, perhaps forever. The ship driftsoff into space as the whirry hums quell in the end. Fade to black. As aviewer to my own interpretation of the album as a fictitiousdocumentary, I hope the explorers and natives will meet up again someother day for another rewarding adventure.

samples:

• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 5

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.

Orthlorng Musork
Andrew W.K. and Pink have never sounded better. Britney Spears andJustin Timberlake can be enjoyable! So long as the combination ofapples being gnawed up, pigs snorting, children laughing, andelephant-speak is processed, destroyed, and turned into a headfuck ofan album; then bad music can be made beautiful. Secret Mommy specializein the annihilation of all that sucks (including French educationalrecords) and all that can be used to make the pain of bad music lessexcruciating. The thirteen tracks on Mammal Classare composed of the dead bodies of pop stars, the flucuating anddecaying breath of large mammals, and various instruments that may ormay not be readily indentifiable; but who cares? This sort of thing hasbeen done for a while, now! What could possibly make me want to spendmoney on this record? First of all, "Bottom 40" features aspeak n' spell alongside Britney Spears and the mating calls of catsand turns out to be one hilarious and nerdy ride through funkdom.Second of all, the whole of this record is hilarious! "Shania Twang" isthe best combination possible of cowboy screams, mouth harp, ShaniaTwain samples, pigs, chickens, and off key banjo. "Andrew W. Cake" iscatchy, spontaneous, and makes the best use of Andrew W.K.'s outrageousmusic all while serving as a therapeutic means of getting back at allthose celebrities I've come to hate by using them in ways that wouldmake certain record companies jealous. Besides the funny aspect, a lotof the music here is just plain fun to listen to; it's the bestsynthesis of creativity and accessibility that I've found in a longwhile. What isn't cool about frogs, guitars, and girls being used tocreate rhythms that would send any dancing feet into the stratosphereand would also happen make certain "IDM" provocateurs red in the facefor their academic journey into blandness? Incessant giggling, goodtunes, and a real live imagination is the name of the game; this is themost entertaining time I've had listening to a record in forever. It'sextravagant, lushly melodic, and a real benchmark for other purveyorsof the strange and wonderous to test themselves by. 

samples:

• Andrew W. Cake
• Bottom 40

Merge
It is nearly impossible to discuss Camera Obscura without mentioningtheir fellow countrymen and kindred spirits Belle & Sebastian. Thecover photograph of the former's second album was taken by B&Sfrontman Stuart Murdoch (which alone screams of his own band's retro /twee stylings), in addition, he has produced one of Camera Obscura'searlier tracks. While CO might seem to owe a heavy debt to them, it isinteresting to note that both bands formed in 1996, and although theiroverall aesthetic is similar, the two clearly spring from differentminds. Underachievers Please Try Harderputs the band squarely in the realm of jangle-pop, and primary vocalistTraceyanne Campbell's gentle, breezy, inobtrusive vocals are perfectlycomplimentary. "Suspended from Class," "Teenager," and "Keep it Clean"are all classic examples of the genre with their sunny, simpleconstruction and topped off with twee lyrics. There are, however, a fewunexpected twists in this overall sound. "A Sister's Social Agony" hasechoes of the angelic, dreamy pop your parents might have danced to attheir prom, while "Your Picture" has a suprisingly melancholic tone.The latter may be the result of the Morrissey-esque male vocalist whotakes over for a few of the tracks. It is ultimately Camera Obscura'slyrics which seem to save them from lapsing into a saccharine overload.They are marked more by a pensive reflection on adolescence than bymere nostalgia. And although they aren't breaking any new ground withtheir music, they good a fine job of carrying the torch passed down tothem by their C86 forefathers. 

samples:

• Suspended from Class
• A Sister's Social Agony
• Teenager

Sedimental
Ielasi will be best known for his label, Fringes, which has beenbrightening the Italian improv community for the past six years with aslew of successful releases. Starting out as a guitarist, he performedin several bristly, tense ensembles (even playing acoustic at times)before easing into electronic improvisation, a transition thatintroduced a more understated method of expression and produced worksthat, while full of the scrape and bounce that characterize Ielasi'sguitar-playing, contain new attention towards careful sculpting of thesmooth approach and weightless hover of each piece. Such concerns haveexploded with Plans;at only thirty minutes, the piece is a major addition to Ielasi'salready-intimidating catalog and marks a considerable stylistic shiftfor the artist. Not a work of pure improvisation, Plans wasactually created over a sixteen-month interval and is of remarkablydense construction, including everything from layered field recordings,thick accumulations of vinyl surface noise, and a toy museum's worth ofclatter and acoustic tinker, to the surprisingly "present"accompaniment of live drums and Ielasi's narcotic strumming. Not onlydoes Plans travel through a succession of movements, but themusic transitions with rare, effortless stride, captivating in itsjoining of contrastive sounds and playing styles, over passages thatnot only sound perfectly-aligned but maintain an emotional current thatremains close to the surface. This is the power of Plans; itsimmediately palpable, almost nostalgic beauty becomes a catalyst forforgetting just how intact Ielasi leaves his sound sources. Plaintivechordal phrasing lines up neatly next to the most atonal, asymmetricalbits of sturm und drang, all sounds recognizably different, even (itwould seem) in direction, but down to the slightest of details each onefits and seems created with full knowledge of every foreign item thatwill graze its path. Like the artist's recent improvisations, Planslifts dense assemblage to airy heights without the sacrifice of thesounds' material qualities. One particularly illuminating moment comesin the third or fourth "movement" when out of breezy, layered surfacenoise Ielasi introduces a pristine recording of keys fumbling and heavymetal doors being swung open and shut. These harsh, solid soundsimmediately take their place within the airborne whisper of the whole,an explicit representation of Plans' achievement, iron doorsswinging between the clouds. It is not hard to believe that thisrelatively short piece took so long to create. Even the improvisedelements appear intricately placed, often spliced via electronics tofit the multiplicity of layers and the "larger," more demandingcompositional structure. This music demands repeated listening, and itsrewards, I've found, are almost limitless, such that I cannot evenmuster predictable criticism of the disc's short length. Plansis an easy favorite from the new crop of Sedimental releases and leavesme hoping Ielasi's next work will continue in similar stride. 

samples:

• Plans (10:00-11:00)
• Plans (15:20-16:20)
• Plans (26:00-27:00)

Sub Pop
Though odder and odder this one becomes with each listen, I think I'vefinally found the piece of my heart that loves The Elected. With onefoot planted firmly in the indie psyche-rock weeds and the other in themore low-down country aspects of life, this Los Angeles ensemble playswith genres and styles in an effort to find their niche, but the truthis they needn't try so hard sometimes. Me Firstis a well-paced and structured debut with funny, intelligent lyricsabout classic themes but with clever twists. All the while, there'splenty to swallow whole, as savoring it instead of devouring it won'tmake it any more logical or understood, like the finer moments of theFlaming Lips or the Shins. This is the road trip record for drivingthrough the dusty south and southwest, with pure Americana and shortstories to keep the feet firmly on the ground, though the mind is freeto roam. Blake Sennett, principal songwriter and guitarist in RiloKiley, is also the mastermind behind The Elected, and certainsimilarities can be found in the two bands. Sennett seems to have someya-yas to get out about relationships, though, and that's where thesesongs have their strengths. Whether it's failed romantic relationshipsor hiding the secrets from family and friends, the subjects of thesongs are lived-in, and that's the the real appeal of The Elected'sdebut. In the age of vapid and vacant pop stars who steal the beats andbasslines of classic songs to try and duplicate the stardom or revive agenre bigger than them, it's nice to hear a band that can just do theirthing and sound like they've been around forever making music with thebands of the age. This is record I will be listening to all year, I canjust feel it.

samples:

• My Baby's a Dick
• Waves
• British Columbia

CD Eb + Flo marks a number of departures in the work of one of today's most interesting sound artists. The double-disc is Matthews' first solo release using theremin as primary sound source, following her retiring of the violin which had formed the core of her excellent first three discs (recently reissued as a trio). The artist's method remains somewhat constant on Eb + Flo, involving the live sampling and laptop manipulation of sounds created with the theremin and projected via quadraphonic soundsystem throughout a particular room.

Pieros
Aranos is a unique musician, a classically-trained cellist andmulti-instrumentalist whose resume is not filled with the usual chambermusic ensembles, modern composition or minimalist drone work that onemight expect. Instead, he has become noteworthy based on a series ofuncategorizable collaborations with Nurse With Wound that sidestep allof the usual implications of avant-classical composition. Aranos'peculiar style is based in the Eastern European gypsy songs, trad-folkand rock music of his childhood in Czechoslovakia. From hiscollaborations with Steven Stapleton, he absorbed the techniques ofdislocated psychedelia and surrealistic composition. Those techniqueswere in full display with the Irish jigs, skewed gypsy fiddles andcracked experimentation of his first two albums for his own Pieroslabel. For this album, Aranos collaborates with El Monte, the nom deguerre of Nick Mott of Volcano The Bear. Allied Cooking But Not As You Know It!is a collection of eleven improvised tracks, utilizing an array ofinstruments including the usual strings, shakahuchi, trumpet,saxophone, gongs and an array of homemade instruments. In a techniqueworthy of Eno's Oblique Strategies, each improvisation is based uponmeditation on a nonsensical imperative — "Think Like Warm IntestinalBeing!" or "Think Like Madly Projected Fleshcups!" Their collaborationresults in a series of low key tracks, meandering around a series ofsubtle conversations that scrupulously avoid musicality entirely.Several tracks create the abstract mental imagery of dark jungles anddamp marshes, with the slowly rubbed cello strings creating an creepingatmosphere of dread. At other times, the music is decidedly morehyperactive, Aranos jumping over his strings like a frog in a fryingpan. On "Think Like Veering Toads and Rude Proons!" an odd speakerglitch creates a brief piece of minimalist electronica worthy of theRaster-Noton label. Apparently, this was all recorded and mixed in thespan of a week that El Monte spent in Ireland with Aranos.Unfortunately, this really shows, as the whole affair seems to sufferfrom a severe dearth of well-executed musical ideas, attempting tocompensate for this lack with an overdose of creepy atmospherics,exclamation points and surreal gobbledygook. 

samples:

• Think Like Stuffed Childhood Lampshades!
• Think Like Veering Toads and Rude Proons!
• Think Like Oven!