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It's utterly unfortunate when I can listen to a band and tell either their influences or what band they're trying to sound like on almost every track. Especially when said band shows musicianship and skill that could very well spawn a truly unique and powerful sound. Sadly, this album is not the record that reveals this untapped talent for The Plastic Constellations.2024
A band almost tailor-made to pander to college crowds, the Constellations rely on a humorous outlook and an seemingly endless supply of energy to pound out their mostly derivative rock. The songs never reach past some desire to show off how clever or great the band is, and it falls firmly on its face. Opening track "We Came to Play" is an anthem and a call to arms at the same time, as the band gets "laced up" to face more crowds after facing some level of adversity. The rhymes are tired and weak, and all the song ends up as is self-aggrandizing wordplay. Most of the lyrics, in fact, are written from the band's perspective on a myriad of subjects, some specific and some vague. Sticking by friends, how hard it is to grow up and move on, being away from home, and the urbane desire to show off some gangsta vibe are all discussed, and, truth be told, it's almost no surprise that the band is made up of 22-year-old males. It's typical subject matter for the college crowd, all bravado and little substance, and it comes off like a bad English paper written by someone from Rhode Island who wants to talk about "keeping it real" and being "from the streets." Even the song titles suggest this: "Beats Like You Stole Something," "Evil Groove," and "Keep it Live" are a few examples. Truth be told, the band does have some solid playing, and there are sections of songs that show what potential exists in this group. But it remains aloof, and these songs pose and preen but don't become anything other than vain caricatures. With time, perhaps they'll mature into a solid rock outfit. Until then I'll keep it live elsewhere.
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Had the promise of the first track on this record carried through, I'd be ranting and raving about an extraordinary work of sound manipulation and minimal composition right now. Unfortunately the first track does feel like a standout on this Shimmer and puts the remaining seven songs to shame. Jasch has a great ear that allows him to do more than just slap sounds together in a creative way; he gets into sounds and recognizes their beginning and end and chooses, from the perspective, how to organize a piece of music. The result is a broad spectrum of stuttering sounds, whining strings, deep bass growls, and static rushes that never quite leave the world of organization and dive into the realm of the subconscious world.Doc
Despite this aptitude towards organization, Jasch's pieces are sometimes a bit too simple or they sound too busy. The sounds all fit together well, but no matter how harmonious they are, too much of a good thing can be ruinous. "Morphogeneis" is that opening piece that had me thinking this record was going to be absolutely stunning. It's a twelve minute extravaganza of boiling noise, winding chainsaws, and ominous moans blurring the line between the forest and the trees. Strange machines float overhead with their anonymous engines and some kind of hospital machine beeps slowly in a hidden place nearby. The precision of the composition (the way it ebbs and flows, the way the tension builds and receeds) crafts a kind of noble stability out of broken and shattered parts. It's a twelve minute stasis full of haunted ideas and unsure footing. "Shimmer" follows in a similar fashion but somehow feels repetitive, as though it were a remix of the first track with a small group of new sounds added for good measure. The album slowly fades away as the structure of Jasch's songs reach a kind of predictability. There's always a "solo instrument" wandering about in front of the noises that compose the background. There's always some hint of a musical instrument at work and it usually pulses or flows with a distinct rhythm or timing. If I were less picky, these facts would be minor distractions, but I dislike knowing where sound collage is going to go and I really wanted this record to move someplace it just wasn't moving. There's a ton of potential in Jasch's work and I'd love to see something a little less predictable come my way. If he's going to insist on that heavy, pulsing, repetitive sound, then he needs to do more with it and learn how to compose a piece that increases its heaviness as it unfolds. If he's intent on doing something more subconscious and wants to throw the listener off, he needs to do more than add strange, disco-esque sounds into the middle of an extremely moody piece (see the otherwise excellent "Levity's Rainbow"). Establishing a kind of aura that is working through a constant change of sound is one thing, changing the sound so drastically that it makes me forget how great the past six minutes were is another. There's a lot good going on here, but I find these small points sticking to me and forcing me to acknowledge this as a spotty album with both very excellent and only mediocre moments. 
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When the message is primarily about breaking down social and political barriers, it's only natural that the musical ones should be overstepped as well. For their third full-length release, the first for Ropeadope, the Brooklyn soldiers of Afrobeat open with the loaded question of "Who is This America Dem Speak of Today?"Ropeadope
The response is their typical high energy musical interventions of monstrous bass lines and fragmented horns with more syncopation than you can shake a rainstick at, aided by lead vocalist Amayo's clever take on the nation's history when it comes its culture. The nearly over-extended jams of "Elephant" and "Sister" are a lot more laid back in the shake-your-body department, although there is more of a heartfelt touch as traditional Yoruba chants and sincere, soulful vocals are brought in on their respective tracks. The grinding dirge of "Pay Back Africa" takes on a foreboding overtone of uprising which becomes more uplifting with the middle eight-styled key change. Subsequent cycles of the tune are heard with more mindfulness and awareness, which is likely the point based on its title. The would-be gospel according to Antibalas track "Indictment" should have been longer than its five minutes and change. This heavy handed, tongue-in-cheek track of linear beats and distorted horns, which ring out some heavy power chords and tight stabs, takes on a rowdy courtroom setting (the honorable Judge Reinhold presiding) where members of Dubya's office are indicted with a near "can I get a fuck yeah" styled chorus from the peanut gallery. Paced with the irate, high energy numbers early on, Who is This America? gradually settles into, at times, near trance-inducing repetitive choruses and grooves which melt away some of the tension. A glimpse of the shell's underside reminds that it's not just about finger pointing, but of hope as well.
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- F.T. Marinetti - Definition of Futurism
- F.T. Marinetti - Five Radio Sintesi
- Luigi Russolo - The Awakening of a City
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