We have finally cleared out the backlog of great music and present some new episodes.
Episode 711 features music from The Jesus and Mary Chain, Zola Jesus, Duster, Sangre Nueva, Dialect, The Bug, Cleared, Mount Eerie, Mulatu Astatke & Hoodna Orchestra, Hayden Pedigo, Bistro Boy, and Ibukun Sunday.
Episode 712 has tunes by Mazza Vision, Waveskania, Black Pus, Sam Gendel, Benny Bock, and Hans Kjorstad, Katharina Grosse, Carina Khorkhordina, Tintin Patrone, Billy Roisz, and Stefan Schneider, His Name Is Alive, artificial memory trace, mclusky, Justin Walter, mastroKristo, Başak Günak, and William Basinski.
Episode 713 brings you sounds from Mouse On Mars, Leavs, Lawrence English, Mo Dotti, Wendy Eisenberg, Envy, Ben Lukas Boysen, Cindytalk, Mercury Rev, White Poppy, Anadol & Marie Klock, and Galaxie 500.
Skolavordustigur Street in Reykjavík photo by Jon (your Podcast DJ).
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Young God Records is releasing a Deluxe 3 CD edition of SWANS debut album FILTH May 26 in North America; Mute releases this package in all other territories.
This 3CD expanded re-issue package constitutes a definitive picture of Swans in the years 1982 - 1983/4. Includes:
DISC ONE: SWANS original debut LP "Filth" from 1983, with the line up of M.Gira, Norman Westberg, Roli Mosimann, Harry Crosby, and Jonathan Kane. Also features versions of "Strip/Burn," "Heatsheet," "Blackout," "Clay Man," "Stay Here, and "Weakling," all recorded live.
DISC TWO: Body to Body material comprised of various studio out-takes and live recordings 1982-85, with a nine-minute version of "Raping a Slave," recorded live in Berlin, 1984 (originally released with FILTH on YGD-11).
DISC THREE: Debut 12" EP #1, originally released in 1982, Plus additional live performances from NYC and London.
The package features a 16 panels of previously unseen photos by Catherine Ceresole and Lee Ranaldo (Sonic Youth).
TRACK LISTINGS:
CD ONE: FILTH: 1. Stay Here (5:36) 2. Big Strong Boss (3:02) 3. Blackout (3:47) 4. Power for Power (5:52) 5. Freak (1:13) 6. Right Wrong (4:43) 7. Thank You (3:52) 8. Weakling (5:20) 9. Gang (3:24) 10. Live at The Kitchen, NYC 1982/3 (24:18): a. Strip/Burn b. Heatsheet c. Blackout d. Clay Man e. Stay Here f. Weakling
CD TWO: BODY TO BODY:: 1. Iʼll Cry for You (5:41) 2. Red Sheet (3:11) 3. Loop 33 (0:59) 4. Your Game (3:57) 5. Seal It Over (3:48) 6. Whore (3:56) 7. Weʼll Hang for That (3:55) 8.Half Life (3:57) 9. Loop 21 (1:26) 10. Get Out (3:31) 11. Job (5:40) 12. Loop 1 (1:01) 13. Mother, My Body Disgusts Me (4:43) 14. Cop (5:56) 15. Only I Can Hear, Only I Can Touch (2:41) 16. Thug (9:44) 17. Raping a Slave (live Berlin 1984) (9:02)
CD THREE: E.P. #1 PLUS LIVE RECORDINGS: 1. Laugh (4:00) 2. Speak (4:24) 3.Take Advantage (4:26) 4. Sensitive Skin (6:05) Live at CBGB NYC 1982-3: 5. Living Arms (---) 6. Howling Red Sheet (---) 7. Big Strong Boss (---) 8. Clay Man (---) 9. We'll Hang For That (---). Live at Heaven London 1984: 10. This is Mine (---) 11. Why Hide (---) 12. I Crawled (---)
ll words both CDs M.Gira. Music Gira/Swans. Contributing musicians Filth: M.Gira - bass, vocal, tapes; Norman Westberg - guitar; Roli Mosimann - drums, percussion; Harry Crosby - bass; Jonathan Kane - drums, percussion. Recorded 1983 Vanguard Studios, NYC . Engineer : Mark Berry. BTB CD is comprised of various studio out-takes and live recordings. Thanks to Catherine and Nicholas Ceresole for their contributions. The following performed live with Swans at one time or another in the years 1982 up to 1985: M.Gira, Norman Westberg, Sue Hanel, Roli Mosimann, Harry Crosby, Mojo, Jonathan Kane, Dan Braun, Thurston Moore, Craig Cafton, Bob Pezzola, Jonathan Prosser... Filth produced by Gira/Mosimann. BTB produced Gira...Perpetual thanks: Daniel Gira, Peter Mason, Kevin Wortis, Derek Woodgate, Jarboe. Packaging design M.Gira for Young God Productions. Execution: Joe Budenholzer. Remastered at Griffin Mastering, Atlanta, Ga. by Chris Griffin.
Compared to his recent albums, Vainio's audio contributions to this project are more abstract and deconstructed than his busier, often rhythm tinged work.He utilizes expansive passages of silence (white space) amongst blasts of noise and strange frequencies that sound anything but identifiable."Fade from Black," for example, features Mika melding the large passages of silence with heavy, almost imperceptibly low frequencies tones and glassy resonations.
At the conclusion of the album, "White Out," is less rooted in silence but features the same subwoofer destroying bass frequencies.A rising and falling electronic hum from what sounds like processed white noise stays consistent throughout the piece.Towards the end, bits of what sounds like actual melody appear and result in him creating the most traditionally musical sounding piece on the disc.
"Missing a Border" is a noisier excursion, with bits of what almost sounds like a conventional synthesizer heavily processed and demolished.Even though it is one of the more kinetic and noisier pieces, it still never becomes too overwhelming or aggressive, barring the overly shrill ultrasonic bits that sharply cut through.Bleak and moody are the best ways to describe "Notes On the Exposure," a slowly expanding piece of midrange digital noise that is less of a dominating sound.
It is on "Lines of a Curve" that the sound I most associate with Vainio’s body of work.Sequences of pitch bent clicks and pops scatter about, resulting in the loosest semblance of rhythms.Much of the piece is made up of crackly textures, with buzzing noise and silence blended in, and oddly disorienting Doppler effect heavy passages of sound.
Michel’s photography, sourced from a digital camcorder, may differ in its technological nature from Vainio’s analog instruments, but the presentation complements it perfectly.Natural and man-made structures feature heavily in her work, as do candid photographs of people in industrial spaces.While critiquing photography is not at all my forte, her heavily white-drenched digital stills, with odd color artifacting, and often overlaid with found patterns and textures, look as Vainio’s music sounds.
As the Touch label continues into its fourth decade of activity, Halfway to White is a contrast to its early days.While before the label would issue compilations on cassettes paired with small run magazines, now they are working in the media of high quality digital recordings and beautifully bound, art edition quality books.Vainio's and Michel's work compliment each other splendidly on here, and the result is a fully realized collaboration between two distinct and exceptional artists.
Since returning to the world of music, ACL's Elden M. has been quite prolific, releasing a batch of new cassettes under his previous noise-associated moniker, while also taking on the world of rhythm-based electronic music as Avellan Cross. Although issued as Allegory Chapel Ltd., GNOSIS: Themes for Rituals Sacred & Profane draws from both of his major projects. Dissonance appears more in a compositional sense, but his use of undistorted synths is largely not something that can be danced to.
As insinuated by the title, the running theme of ritual; religious and otherwise, appears peppered throughout these four songs.Once again exemplifying his adeptness and composition and creativity, the symbolism is never heavy-handed or blunt.The twinkling synths that appear all over "Machine," mixed with a taped voice that is somewhere between psychology lecture and self-help presentation seem to encapsulate the rituals associated with new age beliefs.
"Solar Rite (For Suspension)" is the other more electronically direct piece on this cassette, and one closer to his work as Avellan Cross.Lead at first by a simple thudding kick beat and wet, heavily phased synth sequences, he morphs it into something almost danceable with added keyboards and snare drum programming.Between the title and the sound, there is a definite neo-pagan ritualistic sensibility to be heard, but wonderfully understated.
The other two pieces are a bit less conventional in sound and instrumentation, but Elden M. never allows it to drift into formless chaos."Sephiroth/Enochian Calls" features more obscured voice samples, but more of a dark and distorted low end synth backing.With that backing, buzzing nasal noises and snippets of Gregorian chant, it has a classical sensibility to it, and throughout the whole piece there is a slow descent into madness, as the overall piece becomes more and more disorienting and oblique.
On the final work, "Mata Jewels (Surah Al Alaq)," he utilizes what sounds like Islamic prayer vocals at a couple different points, all underscored by subtle and tasteful electronics.Based upon the title, the mood leans more towards the sacred than the profane, at least as far as presentation goes.I was very happy when I saw that Elden M. was reentering the world of experimental music with his two major projects, and each bit I have heard has simply solidified this excitement.Each release has lived up to my highest hopes and sounded completely unexpected, yet never has lacked his impeccable sense of structure and composition.
Blues: The Dark Paintings of Mark Rothko is one of Loren Connors' most cherished and sought after albums. Originally released in a handmade edition of 200 or so copies on Connors' own St. Joan imprint in January 1990 under the name Guitar Roberts -- Blues has been unavailable in any form until now.
At time of its release, Connors was still an inscrutable guitarist whose matchless and alien rendering of the blues was just gaining recognition despite more than a dozen solo and collaborative releases since 1978. Connors' classic, song-based In Pittsburgh had only been available for three months when Blues welcomed the new decade with its reformation of the blues as minimalist lines and tone; a compound of influences spanning Louisiana guitarist Robert Pete Williams to painter Mark Rothko.
"Moving with the slow, stately weirdom we expect of Connors' late '80s sound, the music is all shards, all pokes in the eye, as though Rothko's gray scale had exploded, sending shrapnelized paint rocketing through your brain," music historian Byron Coley writes in the liner notes of this reissue. "Just as Connors' notes ricochet hauntedly through its recesses."
For this reissue, engineer Taylor Deupree restored the audio to Connors' specifications of how these seven instrumentals were intended to sound. Cover art is an untitled 1969 Rothko work -- a painting that influenced the album. The original LP jacket is replicated as a glossy inner sleeve. New liner notes by Coley chart Connors' development and the influence Rothko had on him as a guitarist.
Title aside, the unhinged lunacy of Ggrrreeebbbaaammmnnnuuuccckkkaaallloooww!!! actually takes some time to start manifesting itself, as the first half begins in fairly recognizable "Charlemagne Palestine" fashion:  he chant-sings an unusual and nasal melody over a mildly dissonant bed of harmonium and crystalware drones.  In fact, the only real indication that something unusual is afoot is that there is also a chopped-up and pulsing loop undulating around him.  At about the halfway point, however, Palestine's vocals disappear and the piece dissolves into a surreal miasma of recordings of sheep and menacingly dissonance string drones before itself giving way to something that sounds like a fantasia on a Romanian violin melody.  Notably, any sense of structure or purpose is largely gone by this point, but not in a bad way: the song just becomes some weird psychedelic soup of shifting vocals, farm sounds, electronics, tensely sawing strings, toy robots, maniacal vocal howls, and roiling lower-register piano.  Happily, it stays that way until the very end, resulting in quite a pleasantly bizarre piece of music that resembles a deranged mash-up of Acid Mothers Temple, My Cat Is An Alien, and Phurpa.  Any piece that I can say that about is definitely not a boring one.
The second half of the record consists of yet another side-long piece, albeit one in a somewhat different vein.  Thankfully, however, it kicks off with some lingering sheep noises, so the transition was not terribly jarring for me.  In fact, the second piece may even be a continuation of the first piece, but it fades in at a different place than the first half ends, precluding any possible continuity and mysteriously hinting at a portion of the performance that did not make the album.  In any case, the second piece simmers along for awhile as a surreal stew of barnyard noises and wordless vocal drones, but then all the sex noises start up and Palestine churns up a appropriately clangorous racket on his lower keys.  It only escalates from there and it becomes impossible to tell who is doing what anymore, as the piece builds into a cacophony of clattering drums, wildly ascending piano intensity, and plenty of very vocal Japanese women having orgasms.  To their credit, Palestine and Grumbling Fur suddenly revert back to quiet, blearily dissonant droning before it all becomes too overwhelming (arguably, anyway).  The trio has one last perverse surprise up their sleeves though, as the final (post-orgy) moments of the piece are devoted to a rousing crowd sing-along led by Charlemagne's singing toys (Mattel Sing-A-Ma-Jigs, to be specific, in case anyone out there is looking to faithfully cover Ggrrreeebbbaaammmnnnuuuccckkkaaallloooww!!! in its entirety).
I can certainly see why Important wanted to put this out, as it documents a truly bizarre and one-of-a-kind performance.  I certainly wish I had been there.  That said, only the throbbing and hallucinatory middle section of the first half stood out as particularly unique and wonderful for me.  The rest of the album is either too improvised-sounding, too heavy-handed (the orgy), or simply better developed and executed elsewhere on Palestine’s solo Ssingggg album to make a big impact (the farmyard sounds and the singing toys).  In essence, Ggrrreeebbbaaammmnnnuuuccckkkaaallloooww!!! mostlyjust seems like Charlemagne working through some of his ideas for his next studio album with a couple of talented accompanists gamely trying to keep up with his completely out-sized personality.  I would be very curious to hear what Alexander Tucker and Daniel O’Sullivan could do with a more formal, studio-based collaboration.  Still, this is quite likable for what it is (I normally hate live albums and I do not hate this).  Ultimately, this album is probably just for Palestine completists, but I bet they will probably enjoy it quite a bit.
On the other side of the cassette, "Garry Membrain" features lo-fi hyper-kinetic drum programming and more overt, untreated keyboard sounds.Even amongst the others on this tape, this is one of the peak aggressive and creepy moments, with the second half loosing the otherwise taut structure of the piece and instead allowing it to sprawl out wonderfully.
Between the stiff, inorganic sounding drums, overdriven synths and indecipherable vocals, Rei Rea's influences are recognizable, yet he never even comes close to direct emulation.Food for the Worms is bleak, depressing, and harsh, and does those themes exceptionally well, embracing just the right level of terror without crossing into self-parody.As everything I have heard from him, Food For the Worms is another exceptionally strong piece of music.
I can always count on Richard Skelton to find the strangest and most unexpected inspirations for his albums and he does not disappoint me with his latest: Belated Movements is largely based upon the "Lindow Man," a well-preserved body found in a peat bog in the ‘80s.  As far as ancient bog bodies go, Lindow Man surely ranks among the most hapless, having met a violent (possibly ritualistic) death by being strangled AND having his throat cut, then getting freeze-died and displayed in a museum two thousand years later.  Given that base material, it is hardly surprising that Movements is a much more sadness-steeped affair than any of Skelton’s other recent work, resembling nothing less than an atypically industrial-damaged and time-stretched requiem.
I have to admit that I was a bit caught off-guard by this album for a number of reasons.  The primary one is that it plunges wholeheartedly back into the free-floating melancholy that characterized much of Richard’s earlier work.  His more recent work has not exactly been cheery, but his career trajectory has thus far largely been away from gloom and towards something more timeless, vibrant, and organic (albeit with some exceptions, of course).  Also, Belated Movements does not particularly sound like an evolution or continuation of The Inward Circles' debut; rather, it feels kind of like an unrelated one-off project.  The only real thread linking the two is that they focus on Skelton’s more long-form compositions.  In fact, Belated Movements even raises the bar in that regard, dividing its hour-long running time into just three pieces.
The first and longest piece, "Petition for Reinterment," is the album’s funerary centerpiece.  Structurally, it is deceptively simple, as it is based primarily upon an endlessly repeating two-note cello or double-bass drone, though that framework eventually dissolves completely (just like the skeleton of a bog man!).  Later, however, it reappears somewhat changed and essentially carries on to form the basis of the second piece ("To Your Fox-Skin Chorus") as well.  The stated theme of "Petition" is "decay and renewal" and those transformations are largely where the piece’s beauty lies: not much happens melodically at all, but the glacially ebbing and flowing swells undergo some fascinating dynamic and textural changes over the course of the nearly 30-minute running time.  I was actually expecting an escalating rotting and rusting dissonance a la Michael Gordon’s deeply unsettling score for Decasia based upon Skelton's own description of the album, but instead Richard's bowed strings get increasing overloaded and blown-out sounding, as well as embellished with some grindingly metallic textures and quavering dissonances.  It all gets quite heavy and nightmarish by the time it reaches its crescendo.  That said, it is quite a slow-burning and nuanced piece, so it takes some focused attention to fully appreciate its dark majesty.  Without headphones or high volume, it loses a lot of its power.
The shorter "To Your Fox-Skin Chorus" is not radically different, but sounds a lot more metallic and industrial: there is a constant looping throb and some of Skelton’s bowed strings have an atypically harsh and more reverberant texture, like they were recorded in an empty parking garage or factory.  Those more menacing elements are balanced by something that sounds like recurring classical horn loop that makes the piece feel like a Ravel performance bleeding into a noise show held in a sewer or cavern, which is quite an appealing niche.  Eventually, "Chorus" segues into the closing "Canis, Lynx, Ursus," which makes Belated Movements feel like one single epic piece rather than three discrete ones.  "Canis" ultimately divulges quite a bit from the rest of the album, however, as its slow-motion bowed strings gradually blossom into a somber, descending piano motif.  To my ears, Skelton lays on the sadness a bit too thick for his own good, but he almost overcomes that fundamental problem by embellishing the central melody with a periphery that is a singularly Richard Skelton-esque tour de force: a churning thicket of moaning and howling strings and sharp harmonics that gradually swells to a roaring intensity.  Sadly, it never gets quite loud enough to fully drown out the piano, but it is still quite a visceral and beautiful way to end the album.
As far as recent Richard Skelton albums go, this is solid, but it falls a bit short of his truly top-shelf material: there is nothing on Belated Movements that comes close to rivaling pieces like the instantly gratifying, stone-cold brilliance of Nimrod’s "Two Opposed Leaves" or Succession’s "Relics."  Also, the oppressive sadness of "Canis, Lynx, Ursus" drags down an otherwise spectacular piece–if not the entire album, given how the three sections blur together.  That said, Skelton has long been one of my favorite artists, so I basically expect him to exclusively churn out masterpieces forever, which is completely unreasonable.  While I do not expect that mindset to change anytime soon, I can certainly accept that it colors my judgment somewhat pessimistically at times.  Despite my grumblings, Belated Movements is a perfectly fine album and takes an ambitious stylistic detour, as this is an unusually long-form and melodically minimalist album and I always love to see Skelton trying new things rather than repeating himself.  New fans would be better served by starting elsewhere, but longtime fans will definitely find plenty to enjoy here (if "enjoy" is truly the right word for elegiac meditations on the fox as psychopomp or the extinction of the lynx).
Since beginning her solo career in 2012, Un Autre Voyage (Another Journey) is Marie Davidson's third album, and even at this relatively young stage in her career shows marked development. Presented as a largely spoken word work (in French) of her personal experiences, there is a greater variety of emotions than the more depressive sounds of her earlier works, which comes through even absent the lyrics.
Davidson's extensive use of drum machines and vintage synthesizers surely earns a place in some sub-sub -wave genre that may or may not have been invented as of yet, but this is one of those cases where that approach comes together quite well.With its simple, throbbing rhythm and French spoken word vocals, "Boulevard Taschereau" made me feel a bit of commonality with Suicide's Why Be Blue or A Way of Life, with its similar sense of repetition mixed with a similar level of instrumental technology.
"Excès de Vitesse" sits more in a standard "new wave" template, with its metallic echo laden drum programming and basic, but effective synth sequences defining most of the song.At times it does sound a bit TOO rooted in its 1980s nostalgia, but the catchy bass pattern makes it memorable.The high point for me is "Balade aux USA," in which all of these elements come together brilliantly.Solid drum machine beats, twinkling synth leads, guitar (courtesy of Davidson's partner and bandmate in Essaie Pas, Pierre Guerineau), and singing, rather than spoken word, results in a strong, memorable bit of off kilter pop.
The other half of this album’s six songs has Davidson in a less pop and more introspective mood.There is a distinct heaviness around "Kidnap You in the Desert," led by a pulsing murky opening and fragments of voice rather than traditional vocals."Insomnie" also drops the drums and results in a lighter overall mood and effective, but simple melody compared to some of the thicker, more overbearing elements of the record.
While at times Un Autre Voyage sounds a bit too attached to its 1980s trappings, it more often than not works extremely well with that distinct sound.I personally prefer sung to spoken word vocals, so the moments where they appeared here were the ones I felt most engaging.Even with the spoken word pieces, however, the music Davidson created was more than enough to make them still click well with me.
Down to the final three releases in Die Stadt and Auf Abwegen’s expansive reissue program, E is a collaborative album originally issued on the Dom label in 1988. Having moved past his synth heavy industrial din but before fully embracing avant garde experimental sounds, it is a transitional record that hints at late 1980s digital synth pop, as well as pure dissonance. At times it may seem a bit too dated by the technology used, but as a whole the album is another strong entry in Tietchens' catalog.
Tietchens and Bekker (who appeared on most of Tietchens' releases, but not credited as an equal partner) not only have a transitional sound on E, but it also features liberal application of Tietchens' more playful and absurd side.The album's high point in my opinion, "Musik Im Deutschen Imbiss," begins with plucked strings and percussive sounds that reek of late 1980s digital synth technology.Where it excels is that it begins sounding like a TV sitcom opening theme, transitions into a passage of simulated gunfire and screams, and then back again.It is an odd, and slightly disturbing juxtaposition.
"Patterns" is another piece where the sound is a bit more surreal and in this case playful.The opening wood block percussion is oddly non-electronic in sound, but has the complexity of something programmed, rather than played.After about the halfway point, a jaunty bit of organ is added to the mix, resulting in an strange paring of sounds and more than just a bit of silliness.
Of course Tietchens and Bekker push the experimental envelope as well, and in some unexpected ways."Studie für Bassklarinette und Zuspielband" has some uncharacteristic squawking jazz moments via the clarinet, but it is also played in ways that more appropriately sound like shrill sirens and droning fog horns.Compared to much of his work it is rather organic, with the only overt electronics being the subtle, manipulated backing tape."Sphinkter" is a short bit of skittering noises and strange filtering that has the chiptunes sound, but predates that movement by a few decades.
Like most of these reissues, there is some additional previously unreleased material included.Of these two songs, "You Get What You Hear" is a short piece of weird spoken voices, clattering noises and heavily rumbling bass.It harkens back to Tietchens' work for the Discos Geometricos label, but even a bit more bizarre."Abendliche Stimmen" is more unsettling, resembling heavily processed and treated bits of chorus vocals bent and pulled into something completely sinister.They may be recorded during the same era, but both pieces have a distinctly different character to them that would have been out of place on the album proper.
The very obvious moments of General MIDI level sounds that appear on some of the pieces throughout E may have had an unintended effect on me, as I felt that, 25+ years later, the sound was more silly and quaint rather than daring.But even with that excluded, the remaining, more experimental pieces stand up with any of Tietchens' best work.While I have always favored his more industrial sounds and thus I found myself enjoying those pieces the most on here, the whole disc is a great one.
This is simultaneously a highly unusual and an extremely representative addition to William Basinski’s impressive discography: on one hand, it is yet another composition characteristically built upon a single brief and decaying tape loop, but it is also a comparatively unadulterated and "raw" prelude to the forthcoming Deluge album.  Both albums are built from the same tape snippet, but Deluge feeds its simple piano motif through a series of varying feedback loops.  On Cascade, that motif is simply allowed to endlessly repeat into rippling, hypnotic perfection without intervention.
The artistry of William Basinski is certainly a curious thing, as he has achieved an enormous amount of mileage out of very little actual musical content.  Cascade is a prime example of that enigmatic alchemy, as it is a 40-minute album made from roughly a 10-second snippet of delicately melancholy piano.  And, of course, it is highly likely that the snippet in question was actually recorded more than 30 years ago.  It took me a very long time to warm to that aesthetic–I loved the first Disintegration Loops album, but the flood of similar albums in its wake bordered on the absurd and made me wonder if Basinski was actually some kind of charlatan/troll genius who found a way to make a viable career out of endlessly regurgitating forgotten studio scraps.  Over the last few years, however, I have gradually come to embrace Basinski as some kind of Zen genius/purist visionary.  He is definitely not an infallible one, but when he hits the mark, he achieves a kind of perfect, simple beauty that cannot be found elsewhere.
Cascade is an album where Basinski most definitely hits the mark: it never changes or evolves, it just blearily, hauntingly, and endlessly ripples and shimmers and it is wonderful.  Part of that magic is undeniably due to the elegant, bittersweet melody of the loop itself, as there is a definite artistry in isolating a poignant snatch of music that can be compellingly repeated forever (seemingly, anyway).  A greater part of Cascade's success, however, is due to William’s treatment of that loop, as its liquid-y reverb forms an increasingly complex after-image of subtle overtones, harmonies, and gentle oscillations.  I suspect tape decay deserves a lot of credit as well for its murky and hissing enhancement of William's dreamweb.  That might seem a somewhat obvious intersection of simple acts, but the cumulative effect is a deceptively powerful one: Cascade does not feel at all like the work of a human–it feels like some kind of organic, otherworldly, and self-sustaining sonic organism slowly drifting through some imaginary space.  Sadly, I cannot think of a catchy name for such a genre, but whatever it is, Basinski certainly has it locked the hell down quite definitively.  To my ears, Cascade is a flawless distillation of everything that William Basinski excels at.  Consequently, I am very eager to hear what Deluge does with this base material, as it seems destined to either transform a minor masterpiece into a major one or to unwittingly break its fragile spell with too much added artifice.  I am nervously hoping for the former.
I am a fairly passionate Charlemagne Palestine fan, but it must be noted that my love is a very complicated and highly conditional one. I tend to enjoy his music in spite of his eccentricities rather than because of them (they can be quite grating at times).  Consequently, I went into this album with no small amount of trepidation, as there were three red flags right off the bat: 1.) a ridiculous title, 2.) something resembling the word "sing," and 3.) a record label that I was completely unfamiliar with in Idiosyncratics.  Also, the nasal a cappella opening seemed to instantly confirm those misgivings.  Consequently, I was absolutely knocked sideways when Ssingggg then unexpectedly blossomed into an apocalyptic monster of a crescendo.  At the risk of sounding crazy, I believe this easily rivals all of Palestine's previous career highlights.  Also, as far as I am concerned, this is a strong (albeit dangerously early) Album of the Year contender.  I am confident that history will vindicate me.
There truly has never been anyone else quite like Charlemagne Palestine and there presumably never will be, as I consistently find myself unable to comprehend his various artistic decisions or guess where any of his pieces are ultimately headed.  Each new album is a fresh surprise.  Ssingggg is a prime example of that singularly unpredictable, enigmatic, and somewhat self-sabotaging nature, as it opens with little more than the hum from a rubbed glass and some high-pitched quasi-ritualistic drone-singing.  Gradually, a massive, buzzing, and complexly dissonant organ chord swells into the picture, forming the perfect backdrop for Palestine's ominous and maniacal anti-mass…until his wordless chants begin to cohere into the word "sing" and–later–the phrase "I love to sing," thus dissipating the mysterious, haunting spell and making me briefly grimace with exasperation.  It is almost like he suddenly thought "Oh dear, this is getting much too great, much too soon.  I need to do something conspicuously silly fast."  Of course, an alternate possibility is that Palestine was trying to make some sort of commentary on the shifting meaningfulness/meaninglessness of language.  Or that (more likely) he was just guilelessly, earnestly, and totally unselfconsciously absorbed in his music.  Regardless of the intent, it was a curiously wrong-footing and distracting move.
Of course, the flipside of Palestine's prickly oddity is his outsider brilliance, which deceptively manifests itself through the massing, swelling, and complexly harmonizing organ drone that continues to grow even as the melodic foreground takes its strange turns.  Essentially, Charlemagne is a master magician engaged in a prolonged bit of artful misdirection, distracting me with parlor tricks (and possibly a kazoo) while the skies darken unnoticed in preparation for the storm to end all storms.  That threatened storm finally hits around the 20-minute mark and can only be described as all hell breaking loose (in the best way possible).  While the organ continues to drone on, Palestine unleashes a truly epic tape onslaught, as martial drums, sheep, choirs, political rallies, squealing children, the entire population of a rainforest, and an actual massive thunderstorm all bleed together into a buzzing, crushing maelstrom that sounds like the entire history of the world condensed into one brilliantly hallucinatory, brain-melting cacophony.  Then, after about half an hour of sustained phantasmagoric perfection, it all suddenly vanishes into silence, leaving only the lonely hum of a wet finger circling around a glass.  That is where I would expect the piece to logically end, of course, but instead it blossoms into a surreal coda involving a singing toy performing a duet with Charlemagne, which concludes with both the toy and the artist saying "bye bye."  The resulting sensation is probably not unlike staggering out of a war zone and suddenly finding oneself on the set of The Muppet Show.
Experienced on headphones, Ssingggg is a legitimately visceral, harrowing, maximalist, and synapse-frying experience; the sort of thing that qualifies more as a life event than entertainment.  I truly cannot say enough great things about how wild, ambitious, bewildering, and masterfully executed this album is. Ssingggg is Charlemagne Palestine's "mic drop" moment: this vein is done; there is no reason for him or anyone else to ever attempt something like this ever again, as it is unquestionably the last word in whatever the hell it is.  If life were a movie, Palestine would be on a boat somewhere right now, content that he has conclusively realized his destiny and never needs to make another album ever again.  Since it is not, however, I am sure he will resurface with something completely different in like a month (and I will presumably be surprised again).