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Load
Pleasurehorse populates the songs on "Bareskinrug" with pummelingpolyrhythms which erupt arbitrarily all over the place. The sound isdense, heavy, and percussive. The pounding throughout "Bareskinrug" iscreated primarily by the bass beat, which provides the bed from whichthe other minor beats spring, sometimes blossoming, sometimeswithering. Amidst the percussion, you can pick out the synthesizedcomputer noises which fizzle, fizz and fiddle. Whereas I was astoundedby the violence of the sound, I also felt like I was being attacked bythe songs, which is just to say that at no point was "Bareskinrug"removed to the background of my mind. The music draws an adamant linein the mind's foreground, refusing to cross over into some lost ambientland. "Laitbait" felt like being cudgeled with a tomahawk repeatedlyand then the subsequent dizzied and blood-speckled daze whichaccompanies such a bludgeoning. The full range of this experience wascaptured within just the three minutes of this song. Most of the othersongs can be likened to some other violent or intense sensation. Theonly time at which the album threatened to be boring was "Re: Vip,"which maintains the same dull beat for three minutes, with nothinghovering around it to give it much life. When it finally promises tochange the beat, the song merely morphs into a duller beat perpetuatinguntil the end. The range of sound on the album as a whole is not thatwide, but the recombination of sounds is innovative. "Bareskinrug" isinteresting to listen to at first, but has a hard time sustainingmultiple exposures, unless, of course, you find a song on it whichchanges your life for a few weeks. Otherwise, the aural assaults becomeall too similar, like the daily beatings from a schoolyard bully. Isthe day you got your nose bloodied much different than the day you gotyour arm pinned behind your back? Nonetheless, Pleasurehorse does a lotwith a little, and heavy-handedly suggests he might have some promisingwork yet to perfect.
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Hymen
Rumours that Aaron Funk has four albums coming out on the same day in2003 are no more than rumours, but the Canadian's work-rate is soimpressive that the claim is actually plausible. After two superbfull-lengths this year on Planet Mu, and a third, 'Winter In The BellyOf A Snake,' held back despite being pressed and available in October(as if to save others embarrassment) it seems natural that he wouldsneak out another release somehow, and this time it's an elaborate boxset on Hymen. The red box contains a 3" CD with a single track, as wellas a small TV-shaped slide viewer, with 8 slides inside. Each slide hasthe title of the box PhotoShopped onto some object. Fans will revel inthis entirely reasonable claim being splattered all over road signs,vending machines, and other items. As for the music, as usual Funkexplores the limits of his self-discovered blend of breakcore andcut-up drum'n'bass. Here, he takes the opportunity to create anextended piece rather than move chaotically between different musicalparts, and develops a harsh break and distorted bassline over 16minutes, leading inevitably to a mental, blurred climax. No-one istaking intensely programmed breaks further.
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Tigerbeat6
Numbers might not be an electronic laptop band, but like nearlyeverything else on the TB6 label, it is fun, addictive, silly, andsickingly dancable. This trio of youngsters from the Bay Area consistof a Moog player, guitarist and a front-stage drummer who controls theworld. (All of which who sing.) While I'll be the first to admit Ididn't really get this band entirely on record, after seeing them liveI have been completely won over. Subsequently, the album sounds muchbetter now. Clocking in at just over 19 minutes, this ten-song recordhas got to be one of the most genuine releases of the year. The bandaddresses adult issues through the mind of a child, as the subjectmatter ranges from materialistic greed ("We Like Having Things") totechnology ("Intercom") and strained intrapersonal relations ("Too Coolto Say Hi"). The disjunct playing and off-tunings of the guitarseparate the group from the typical post-punk punks, almost as if threecomputer nerds were handed rock instruments and trained long and hardto play louder, faster, and more original than the bullies down thestreet. Training and practice payed off as the good kids did win thistime. Let's see how they do in the sequel.
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Tiger Style
This reissue of Marc Bianchi's 1997 vinyl-only release documents avastly different Her Space Holiday from the warm, symphonic, electronicpop of last year's 'Manic Expressive'. The six tracks present thatappeared on the original (the reissue includes six unreleased bonustracks) evoke both the psychedelic, spacious atmospherics of FlyingSaucer Attack, the ethereal twang of Mojave 3, and the shy vocals andsimple, introspective guitar melodies of Trembling Blue Stars.Furthermore, "Gravity Fails Us" sounds downright Stereolab-esque in itsfirst 60 seconds. These songs have a relaxed expansiveness thatcontrasts with the tight, meticulously constructed material for whichHSH is presently known. The six bonus tracks, while in the same vein asthe aforementioned, are less noteworthy. Terse and underdeveloped, it'sclear why these songs, presumably recorded around the same time asthose which comprised the 'Audio Astronomy' in its LP version, wereinitially not included. In fact, for this reissue, they seem less likea "bonus" and more like tacked-on filler material. Nevertheless,Bianchi, who seems to hold the highest appreciation for his listeningaudience, no doubt added the previously unreleased songs for theirenjoyment rather than as a sales ploy.
Despite the drastic change in sound over the past 5 years, fans will nodoubt find 'Audio Astronomy' an interesting document in the evolutionof Her Spaace Holiday.
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Ninja Tune
The fourth release from Amon Tobin, under his own name, once againtends to lead more in the direction of last year's 'Supermodified' inthat the use of a lot of those "go cat, go!" drum licks and uprightbass samples have been eschewed in favour of some heavier groove-stylednumbers, with the odd drum 'n bass licks thrown in for good measure.The frenetic "Back From Space" kicks the disc into high gear with itsbusy rhythmic layers, compressed bass lines and monster low-end synthpatterns that leave fingerprints all over the scene. The solid "Verbal"has enough of a pop element to come close to getting airplay on majordance radio (if it hasn't already), thanks in part to it's strummyacoustic guitars, pumping bass and the cut 'n paste vocals provided byMC Decimal R. The stand out, "Hey Blondie," is a great, spacy bed ofsynths, subtle 70s bass lines and arpeggiated guitar held together witha deep pocket, down-tempo groove that's a mile wide. Who sayselectronic music has no feel? "Cosmo Retro Intro Outro" builds fromprocessed funk guitar squelches and fleeting melodic synth lines tosome heavy drum 'n bass-styled rhythms which blend perfectly with thebackdrop. "Triple Science" will have your ears doing pinwheels with itsuptempo barrage of bips and bleeps, held together by a half-time bassline that sounds like an upright being whacked with a stick. Theremainder of the disc's eleven tracks tends to be a lot more grooveoriented, making for some great space and choices of sounds in thecompositions.
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Wonder
A ski weekend in Vermont sounded like the perfect get-away for theweekend. All your friends packed up and headed north. You left in adifferent car because you had room for everybody's gear, but they leftat the same time and followed closely behind. Night fell and a blizzardcame in out of nowhere. You arrived safely at the remote cabin on thelake but the electricity is completely out and the other car hasn'tarrived yet. It's been hours. The snow outside has not eased up as itis visibly getting deeper and deeper. You light another candle and tryto keep warm but the firewood is running very, very low. In contrast tothe band's name, 'Black Earth' is an album of implicit tension andsuspense, much like a Hitchcock film, completly unlike slasher films,filled with explicit scenes of blood and gore. (You haven't found theirbloody, cold, dead bodies yet but you know to fear the worst!) Theatmosphere is so thick with tension that even if you're listening tothis album in the brightest moments of daytime, the slightest externalsound can make you jump a mile. Despite its painfully goth appearance,the sound is Twin Peaks-like Labradford-inspired jazz: instrumentalwith slow shuffling drums, heavy Rhodes keyboards, piano, double-bassand saxophone. It's a marvelous treat, thrilling enough that even longafter listening, I get lumps in my throat just thinking of it.
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Kranky
After two impressive albums recorded with Alan and Mimi of Low, Jessicacomes home with her third album —recorded at home with Jesse Edwards,her bandmate in Red Morning Chorus and Northern Song Dynasty. Therecord has a much more intimate feel than any she's recorded, with aneye towards more acoustic arrangements and a bit more experimentation.Everything sounds sparse or barren, far more than other releases have,like there's a stark loneliness or quiet that is being explored on eachtrack. Often times it all sounds brittle, even, as it feels like ifthese songs are pushed like she has in the past, emitting any noisethat is too harsh, it will all come crashing down. Bailiff's voice isas assured and sultry as ever, and the treatments on a few tracks evenelevate it, making it sound firmly otherworldly. All these ingredientsmake for her most engaging release yet. "Swallowed" is classic Bailiff:steady rhythm with small flourishes and the desperate call of "If onlyyou'd hold me and say it's all right." "Hour of the Traces," with theviolin-uke melody and percussion that sounds like taps on an acousticguitar, is hauntingly pure and pained, even as a happy tin whistle,faded in the mix, plays along. Finally, on "Disappear," the roar comesin and the volume increases and the guitar distorts seemingly intooblivion with computer voice back-up to hold it all in. The albumcloses with the piano-based "The Thief," a lamenting chorus of voicessinging behind Bailiff as the song progresses. It's a gorgeous moment,where I felt Bailiff stepping out of herself.
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Textile
All functional humans have the capacity to make noise, whether it'swith what genetics gave them or the tools they make. However, very fewhave the capabilities of making noisy things sound amazing to the humanear. Some bands never achieve this. Thankfully, at least Jackie-OMotherfucker does a good job of achieving it about half the time oneach their albums. In all of my recordings of this Portland,Oregon-based collective, they have remained consistent between thenumber of songs that sound completely derivative and uninspiring tosongs that really sound like an impressively orchestrated group ofmusicians whose sounds amount to more than just chin-scratching mayhem.For the latest disc, the band opens with a track that doesn't move faroff the Molasses-like northern white guy hillbilly blues singing tipand follows it up with a track that kept me re-referring to the packageto make sure it wasn't an elaborate cover of Jandek's "Carnival Queen"with tape mutilations. It's at this point, however, that the ensembleis basically getting in gear. They pause for a 17-second instruction onplaying on "the seven" and by halftime through the immense (andperpetually changing) fourth track, "777 (Tombstone Massive)," I'mhappily lost in a daze. It opens with relentless drum and percussionpoundings then halts, restarting with a crackle, wind instruments,chimes and a low string drone. A quick rise reintroduces the forcefulpercussion from the first few moments but thankfully that dies down forthe mesmerising interplay between strings, winds, and chimes. Just wheneverything boils up to a clumsy, disorganized borderline masturbatoryjam with nobody paying attention to each other, (the end of "Feast ofthe Mau Ma") quietness befalls the record and all is good again. Thealbum ends with two more 10-minute pieces: a blissful quietinstrumental and a 'manual' loop of guitar and drums with distortedvocals which leaves me with an unsettling feeling despite theviolinists struggles to play something pleasant. One of these days thisband is either going to make a record that will be my favorite of theyear or send a pipe bomb to my P.O. box. I don't know which to fearmore.
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Mute
Add N to (X) have a fantastic formula. Catchy post-punk hooks played onprimal synths coupled with a powerful drummer works well in dirty andloud live settings. The band puts on some of the best shows I've hadthe privilige to see over the last couple years. Their biggestchallenge at this point is to take some of that raw live energy andchannel it into their recordings so there's less wishy-washy tunes thatsimply meander all over the place. Like all of their records, there aresome really awesome moments here. I'm partial to the Meat Beat-ishsampled drum shuffle on "Elecrtic Village," the new wave of snottypost-punk vocals of "Large Number," and the campiness of the album'sopener, "Total All Out Water." There are numerous low points, however.The "I Hate Her/She Hate Me" vocals on "Sheez Mine" and spoken word on"Invasion of the Polaroid People," sound completely convictionless andcould have easily been omitted from the album altogether. Theundeniable hit, "Quantum Loop," has a strong enough hook to carry thetune but the random scattering of samples seems like a poorly plannedafterthought. Even the album's single, "Take Me To Your Leader," kindof fizzles after only a minute or so. While I'm not looking for them torecreate some of my fave tunes from the last five years, ("MetalFingers in My Body," or "Plug Me In" still get me as excited as thefirst time I heard them) there is an increasing lack of strong tunesand completed thoughts this time around.
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Kranky
'Style Drift' couldn't be a more appropriate title for this,Fontanelle's long-awaited sophomore full-length, as the band don'tnecessarily shift their style but improve enough to make a noticeabledifference. Recorded again in their Magnetic Park studio, 'Drift' is areal step forward for the band, as their confidence improves and theirarrangements gain strength and weight. For improvisation-based music,it doesn't get any better than this, and Fontanelle are reaching anapex where their version will be instantly recognizable. As always, thedrumming is tight, the bass a propulsive mass, and the wah-wah guitartasty. The keys, different types, are more ingrained than before, andcreate a mood and feel all by themselves, often with layered effectsand computer gimmicry applied to them. The band has become tighter, asperfectly evidenced on the breaks in the title track. There's adefinite jazz vocabulary at work, too, that only serves to improve theproceedings. Overall, though, the spirit in Fontanelle is inmaniupulation. There are sounds on this record that are new for theband, as they reach out towards the outer limits. Imagine, if you will,that the Max Rebo Band fired Sy Snoodles and got a hold of a fewTortoise records and you wouldn't be far off. Fontanelle have alwaysbeen amazing musicians, but on this release they are in the pocketevery time, working together better than ever, and proving that thereis longevity and consistency in doing it all off the cuff.
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On their third full length album, the duo of AJ Cookson and Matthew Rozeik that somehow managed to merge the disparate worlds of black metal and hard-edged electronic dance music have put together another brilliant combination of the two, sounding like no one else in the process, in the best possible way.
If I had only heard the name of the band, I would have likely have written them off as yet another cliché black metal project with intentionally bad production and stupid garbled vocals.However, with a first album titled This Beat is Necrotronic, I was curious to hear more, and I am glad I did.That same defiance of expectations can be seen by the artwork alone:the "almost black on black" graphic design of so many metal albums is here, but rather than demons and blasphemy, there are pictures of astronauts.
There are of course moments where the duo sticks to more conventional metal territory:the digital guitar distortion and screamed vocals of "Led to the Water" and "Theme From Escape" are a bit more traditional, although the stiff drum machine rhythms and ambient synths do their part to mix up the archetype.Similarly, the distorted bass and pummeling riffs of "Arrows" keep things metal, but the synth textures and guest female vocals by Eliza Gregory are anything but the norm.
For me the best songs here are the ones that bounce between the two extremes."Imperial" begins with grimy guitar and a chintzy drum machine channeling "kvlt" metal before it throws itself into a synth heavy breakbeat collage, which is then broken up by guitar solos and bassy drone.It has the bleak heaviness of metal, catchy electronic rhythms, and memorable transitions to create a track that brilliantly sounds like no one (and nothing) else.
The aquatic bass thuds and filtered synths of "Endless Vertex" exemplify this as well.The slow, pounding heavy layers and heavily effected guitar are paired with lush keyboard passages to create this great juxtaposition of ugly and beauty.Even the heavily processed basement guitar drone of "Wretched Hag" is balanced out by electronics to create a bizarrely heavy take on ambient music.
The Colonial Script retains the joyful genre-bending of its predecessor Music of Bleak Origin, but adds an extra layer of polish and experience, feeling more focused and self-assured.As dark and as bleak as it may come across, there is a perverse sense of exploration and excitement to be found here, something that too many bands simply choose to ignore.
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