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- Bo HeinBurmese Golden Drum
- Mar Mar AyeBeautiful Town
- Tonte TheintanLover of the Winter and Snow
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Composed mostly of wandering guitar echoes and fuzzed-out machine noise or rhythms, the heart of these songs lay in their zen-like construction. The eleven songs that make up this record drift by in a fog that sends all images into slow-motion: light becomes amazingly intense and the simplest of movements stand as monuments to the beauty of the body.Noise Factory
M.D. Matheson's formula is simple and effective: a lone guitar (sometimes two, one heavily processed) bounces above a wash of percussive loops or noise washes full of coal factories and abandoned warehouses. The melodies are always haunting and carry with them a degree of melancholy, but The Isolationist is never bogged down by drab arrangements or depressingly slow developments. "Killing the Corners" moves along at a walking pace with a steady and easy rhythm of skipping snares, but the mood is that of a cold rainstorm somewhere on the shore of an industrial and rusting city. The formula of guitar-solo plus odd tapes loops and/or rhythms rarely changes, however. The simplicity that drew me half way through the album leaves me a lot bored at times. "Passing Secrets Through the Window" attempts to shift the emphasis from guitars to soft fuzz and eerie radio samples and does so quite well, but it represents only one change of pace; Matheson needs to provide more. In fact, right after the lazy stroll of "Passing Secrets..." Matheson decides he's a little bored and provides the most upbeat (if you can call it that) song on the album. This is a relatively small complaint, though. The melodies are gorgeous, the arrangements come together beautifully (though they are all similar), and the music affects a sense of weightlessness and breathing room that serves as an excellent therapeutic. A change of pace and perhaps a more varied selection of tracks would be great, but I find it hard to complain over these melodies.
samples:
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- TJ Norris
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The third full-length album from Yoshimi P-We's female rock quartet, Kila Kila Kila refuses to immediately deliver the goods as generously or bountifully as their previous two albums of densely layered psychedelia. Green and Gold and Feather Float were jam-packed with kaleidoscopic melodies and shimmering guitars, creating thick syrupy whirlpools of hypnotic grooves with saccharine group harmonies and bright, sparkling production. Kila Kila Kila is a more difficult proposition, with Yoshimi P-We veering away from her pop tendencies, preferring instead to emphasize the more abstract and improvisatory elements of her music.
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- Albums and Singles
The third full-length album from Yoshimi P-We's female rock quartet, Kila Kila Kila refuses to immediately deliver the goods as generously or bountifully as their previous two albums of densely layered psychedelia. Green and Gold and Feather Float were jam-packed with kaleidoscopic melodies and shimmering guitars, creating thick syrupy whirlpools of hypnotic grooves with saccharine group harmonies and bright, sparkling production. Kila Kila Kila is a more difficult proposition, with Yoshimi P-We veering away from her pop tendencies, preferring instead to emphasize the more abstract and improvisatory elements of her music.
"Ene Soda" is a sparse call-and-response between Yoshimi's sporadic electric guitar wallops and an array of twinkling bells and effervescent percussion. "Suzuki Ring Neng" takes a cue from Asa Chang and Junray, slowly developing out of clipped phonetic utterances and looped percussive retorts, finally exploding into a luminous Kraut-prog jam, complete with a mesmerizing bassline and chirping synthesizers. OOIOO takes a crack at Tortoise-style post-rock instrumentalism with the energetic jazz of "On Mani," driven by a pount-counterpoint conversation between trumpets and two lively drummers. "Northern Lights" is another extended jazz-rock improvisation, with some oddly mutated vocals and Yamatsuka Eye-trademarked birdcalls forming competing textures. "Aster" is something again entirely again, a 15-minute disparate avant-rock exploration featuring guitar melodies that seem to quote freely from traditional Japanese folk styles, echoed in delicious vocal harmonies that float cloudlike over the driving rhythms. It's hard to say exactly why I don't have the same affection for Kila Kila Kila as I have had for OOIOO's previous albums. It's certainly marvelously produced, with each instrument crisply resonating, each part intertwining into a complex whole. Compared to their past work, however, it feels a little thin and underdeveloped, perhaps a result of Yoshimi's new emphasis on improvisation and away from studio multitracking. That said, it's still a fine album by a talented group that are probably incapable of making anything other than buoyant and adventurous music. 
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There is no doubt that the pressure has built up for a strong follow-up to the astounding 2001 album Scary World Theory: it was gloriously received by critical acclaim worldwide, followed by trans-continental tours, and a decent amount of well-publicized respect by some of the biggest names in modern rock and pop music.
While the band didn't crack under pressure, they have clearly taken a step in a direction that might disappoint fans of their other albums. The most noticeable difference is that Faking the Books is much more of a "rock" record than anything the group has done previously. After the mellow and meandering opening title track, "Call 1-800-fear," comes on strong, establishing a more prominent guitar presence than ever. It continues through the album where the drums aren't as programmed as they were in the past, and the feel is much more extroverted and rawkus than the rather timid and reserved Scary World Theory. Electronic hums and twitters sound more like afterthoughts and additional coloration as the album sounds more geared around their live show—perhaps both influenced and built for the stage. "Left Handed" is thankfully included for those who didn't want to shell out for the high priced three-track import, but there isn't much else here that is memorable. The issues I have with this album aren't with the production, the playing, or the melodies, it's with the songwriting this time around I think. Uninteresting lyrics are repeated ad nauseam in nearly every song, almost making the music seem somewhat wasted. While I love the group and love their sound, I do admit however that coming away from this record, I have less songs stuck in my head. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate this album by a long shot, but I can't see myself adoring it as much as I have for them in the past. It's kind of like salsa. Sure, there are people who haven't had salsa, and try it and love it the first few times. Soon enough, everybody gets it with their meals and after a while the only salsa that gets noticed and remembered is the salsa with a certain kick. It far exceeds any expectations, with a taste that is often remembered and desired. I think I'll spend more time with that kind of salsa.
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- TJ Norris
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Robert Lippok (To Rococo Rot) has taken Komëit's (Julia Kliemann and Chris Flor) recording "Falling into Place" apart to remodel its contents. He's kept the essential vocals, guitar lines and other critical signatures from the original and just enhanced their lightness of being.Monika Enterprise
The purely instrumental "Parade" is a great example as it just glides along. "It's A Good Thing" reverses Flor's guitarloop and highlights the sinewaves in Kliemann's keyboard while adding undercurrents of freshly stripped white noise. The crawling to life simulated toy keys on "Readymades" is a lullaby for shoegazers everywhere. Tentative percussion and playful pitches brighten its melodic sphere. Suddenly the tandem vocal serves a higher confidence on the linguistically ironic "Rearrange" where they sing "Let's melt words together, take these words for real." Vibe-a-riffic "Schemes Like These" is the would-be hit here - groovy underbeat currents and false-start tapping percussion make for something both movement conscious, in an imposing milieu. Closing with "Three Hours" Lippok's homage to his peers seems to end up somewhere between Mr. Rodgers' neighborhood and something more poignant from Pearl Jam, through the eyes of sea monkeys. Kliemann's wet vocal oozes over a repetitive chord and the formalities of a dissonant, hollow piano.
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- Unwed Sailor - Shadows
- The Potomac Accord - For Jonathan
- Mikael Jorgensen - Jonathan
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