Episode 721 features Throwing Muses, Eros, claire rousay, Moin, Zachary Paul, Voice Actor and Squu, Leya, Venediktos Tempelboom, Cybotron, Robin Rimbaud and Michael Wells, Man or Astro-Man?, and Aisha Vaughan.
Episode 722 has James Blackshaw, FACS, Laibach, La Securite, Good Sad Happy Bad, Eramus Hall, Nonconnah, The Rollies, Jabu, Freckle, Evan Chapman, diane barbe, Tuxedomoon, and Mark McGuire.
Wine in Paris photo by Mathieu.
Get involved: subscribe, review, rate, share with your friends, send images!
In 1991 three exceptionally creative and influential records were dropped on a mostly deaf audience. It took many years for people to catch up with Talk Talk's Laughing Stock and Slint's Spiderland, and by then numerous other bands had already borrowed their ideas and built new ones upon them. Unfortunately, Swans' White Light from the Mouth of Infinity is still waiting for people to catch up. It completes the trajectory that was begun with Children of God and it perfects the ideas that were only half-realized on The Burning World. More than an influential record, it is arguably Swans' finest and most concise accomplishment to date.
Swans changed dramatically in the time between Children of God and White Light. Drummer Ted Parsons and bassist Algis Kyzis, one of the best rhythm sections in rock music, were absent by 1989 and sorely missed. The Burning World had demonstrated that Michael Gira and Jarboe were interested in taking Swans somewhere else musically, but poor production choices and too few sympathetic musicians prevented them from realizing their vision fully. It must have been tempting then for Michael and Jarboe to call on old friends for their next album, but instead they moved forward and assembled a large cast of mostly new collaborators. Parsons and Kyzis were still gone, replaced by Jenny Wade on bass, Dots percussionist Vincent Signorelli, and drummer Anton Fier, who founded The Golden Palominos and had played with everyone from The Feelies to Pere Ubu. Norman Westberg was still on board, but two other guitarists had been added to the ensemble: Christoph Hahn and Clinton Steele. Much of what I've read about White Light suggests that they were the primary guitarists in the studio, and both are credited in the liner notes before Norman is. Nicky Skopelitis (also a member of The Golden Palominos) was the only musician other than Westberg to survive The Burning World sessions, but it's difficult to assess how large a role he played given the diverse number of instruments for which he is credited. This is the group that, along with a few others, went into the studio and turned out Swans' most cohesive and complete statement.
But White Light isn't the evolutionary step forward that Children of God or The Burning World was. Gira and Jarboe had already moved past the stentorian assault of earlier records, both as Swans and as World of Skin. They had also covered Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart" and Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home," proving that they were as comfortable with popular song styles as they were with their post-punk and No Wave influences. As Creaig Dunton pointed out in his review of The Burning World, Swans had composed some fantastic songs since turning their sound down ("God Damn the Sun" and "Mona Lisa, Mother Earth" especially). The band had already begun a slow and clumsy metamorphosis, but they had yet to complete it. All they needed to do was find the right lens through which they could focus their energies and things were sure to take off. That's where White Light comes in: it marries the band's more spacious and subdued efforts with the intensity and drama for which they had become notorious. On White Light their quiet ballads swarm with inviting melodies and brooding, often sad atmospheres. The aggressive songs exhibit restraint and overwhelming power without taking recourse to overt brutality. Gira and company had integrated all the loose threads from past works and synthesized them into an epic, frequently orchestral aesthetic that could handle any material tossed at it.
Their transformation into such a flexible and dynamic unit is evidenced by how clearly past songs are reflected in White Light. Even if it isn't an evolutionary recording, it is a transformative one that bears all kinds of new fruit. I mean transformative literally, too. Many of the songs on White Light sound like twisted reflections of songs from The Burning World. For instance, the meek "I Remember Who You Are" sounds like it could have been the form from which the stunning "Songs for Dead Time" was sculpted. And the intriguing, but ultimately flat "(She's a) Universal Emptiness" might have been the soil from which the majestic "You Know Nothing" grew. That latter song is especially superb, replete as it is with Jarboe's spectral harmonies, Gira's paradoxically romantic and frightening condescension, and its superb chorus. But if calling the record transformative sounds exaggerative, consider the album's opening moments, where a small child is heard cooing and crying before "Better Than You" begins, perhaps suggesting birth and birthing pains. Or think on the many lyrics and images throughout the record that suggest failing, dying, and becoming something new. One of the most striking is "Song for the Sun," where Michael, in an almost elated tone (and in blinding contrast to "God Damn the Sun"), sings, "But I won't cry, no / I will survive the light of the sun as it enters me / Let it come right in, let the sun come in." Musically and lyrically, Swans are concerned with change and transformation throughout White Light. Deryk Thomas' artwork adds weight to that interpretation, too, suggesting rebirth by way of spring, love, and possibly Easter. And if that isn't convincing enough, then read over the lyrics to "The Most Unfortunate Lie," where Gira reflects, "The light shows my face in the mirror / and my hand as it reaches to touch / the evidence of pain and delusion / and a mind which was never clear enough." Things must have cleared up in the studio during the recording of this album and everyone present must have recognized it to some extent. At least a few of these songs had to be written or redrafted during the album's recording. Of course, it could be that White Light is where everything happily and haphazardly fell into place, the lyrics reflecting the band's regeneration only by chance.
All of this ignores how excellent White Light is on its own, though, without reference to anything from the past. Were it actually still in print, a newcomer could begin exploring Swans with this album and fall in love thanks to its many strong melodies, excellent arrangements, tremendous scope, and various moods. In fact, if Soundtracks for the Blind had never happened, White Light might have gone down as the band's most diverse and dynamic recording. Fans might argue it isn't as far-reaching and experimental as later Swans albums are, but it doesn't have as many loose ends either. White Light flows like a Bosch painting from start to finish, its unique instrumentation and surprising tangents forming a pleasing, if disturbing, whole. Songs like "Love Will Save You" and "Why Are We Alive?" show Gira's interest in American music growing and his ability as a songwriter developing, and "Failure" is nothing short of a classic. Michael frequently plays it at his solo shows and fans still whisper about it beforehand, wondering if they'll get the chance to hear it performed. Taken into consideration on their own, every song on White Light is an excellent example of Swans' several virtues.
And that is as good a reason as any to wonder why White Light ended up being butchered and spread across Various Failures and Forever Burned years later. While Swans would use White Light's various conventions as a starting point for exploring new territory on later albums, its songs do not sit comfortably next to the music from Love of Life, nor do they benefit from being interspersed among various B-sides and outtakes. Taking those songs out of their proper context and then splitting them up over three discs simply makes no sense. Gira hasn't reissued anything by Swans since 2003 and nothing he has reissued adequately represents this album's scope. That needs to change, if only to make White Light available again for listeners who would be all too happy to pay for it. As of right now, blogs and other illegal sites are the only places it is available. Rather than fund the next Swans album with a collection of acoustic demos, Young God could release a deluxe edition of White Light that contained all the demos, B-sides, and instrumental stuff on a second disc, where they belong.
Despite being out-of-print, White Light has become a massively influential record. Swans obviously left a mark on everyone from Low to Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Mogwai, and Explosions in the Sky. Arguments for their influence on many other bands could be made, too (Bark Psychosis and Sigur Rós among them). "Helpless Child" and "The Sound" might have solidified their contribution to post-rock more firmly, but the seeds for those experiments were planted on songs like "Why are We Alive?," "Will We Survive," and "Miracle of Love." For as long as I've been listening to Michael Gira's music and talking about it with others, Soundtracks for the Blind has been touted as their ultimate achievement and the place where all their experiments came to shine most brilliantly. But I think it's about time White Light from the Mouth of Infinity is recognized as their masterpiece. This is the album where Swans found new life and the mouth from which the rest of Gira's career flows, including Angels of Light.
Close on the heels of last year's Caress, Redact, the latest work from Public Speaking’s Jason Anthony Harris (along with some friends) is an even further refinement of his deconstruction of soulful pop and R&B sounds. With equal measures vocals, piano, found sounds, and synth noises, he shapes these disparate elements into catchy songs, albeit within a depressing and bleak context.
The most striking development on Grace Upon Grace is the fact that each piece is, at its core, composed for just vocal and piano. Harris intentionally wrote the album this way, a method that is not necessarily associated with creating what can be rather challenging music at times.However, this really just serves to solidify Harris' continuing growth and evolution as not just a sound artist, but also as a songwriter.Running through the record is a thematic structure linking the five songs too, namely the intersection of politics and religion and the fanaticism associated with both (so, very timely).
The opener "Backbone" exemplifies this stripped down approach right from the opening of droning electronics, snappy beats, and bass guitar.Soon Harris' vocals and piano take the forefront, nicely accented by skittering electronics all about, later even featuring a bit of trumpet from Jon Mizrachi.For its unconventional structure, it is a rather simple arrangement, capturing the sadness of the current political climate perfectly."Trespass" is another of the more skeletal works, built around found sounds and strange noises layered together into effective rhythms.Here Harris' voice is accompanied by that of Sophie Chernin as well, creating a strong duality of tone that complements the jerky beats and found sound collages rather nicely.
For other songs, however, Harris’ arrangements are a bit more complex.The electronic rhythms, bass guitar, and vocals all appear again on "Music of the Victors" as well, but in a greater complexity and richer mix.There are more layers of instrumentation, even some erratic electric guitar (courtesy of Zach Ryalls) added that fleshes out the sound even more, building to an almost jazzy conclusion to the piece."The Most Dishonest People in the World" is more about up front, dramatic vocals and jerky piano at first, then blended heavily with skittering electronics to make for a more dissonant piece, but one that still feels loosely grounded in conventional songwriting and composition.
The album culminates with "Burnt Offerings", leading off with squalling noises segueing into subway field recordings before locking into erratic beats and piano.The arrangement is unconventional, mostly built upon piano, drum machine, and found sounds, but Harris makes it work cohesively, mixing together and delivering a strong, memorable chorus while ending the song on a random, erratic note.For those who are not necessarily fond of vocal heavy music, or who want to hear more of the eccentricities of the music, the second half is simply an instrumental mix of the five songs that, while interesting, are not as strong as the vocal versions.
As Public Speaking, Jason Anthony Harris is carving out a nice niche for himself, blending the worlds of more conventional R&B songwriting with abstract, very avant garde structures and instrumentation that seem at odds with each other, initially.It is a strange pairing to be sure, but it works brilliantly, no doubt because of Harris' skills in mixing and instrumentation, but also a strong voice.Conceptually I found the album to be a bit of a downer overall (not surprising given the context and its all too real appropriateness for 2017) but it is so adeptly executed that I could not help but enjoy Grace Upon Grace, even if it does little to lighten the mood.
Lasted is the third album by Thomas Meluch under the alias Benoit Pioulard. Thomas has toured throughout North America and Europe since his last record, the process of which has had a marked impact on the development of these songs as lyrics and structures have been scrapped, tweaked and reworked in the live setting. As with previous albums it was recorded and mixed in domestic isolation, this time throughout the rainy season in his current home of Portland, Oregon.
While the extent of the dreary climate’s influence on the results is left to the listener’s discretion, what is certain is that Thomas has a preternatural ability to weave disparate sound components into a cohesive sonic tapestry, mixing a varied palette of field recordings and percussive elements along with melancholy melodies to create songs that recall - and are akin to - vespers of long-buried memories.
9. weird door 10. ailleurs 11. passenger 12. tack & tower 13. a coin on the tongue 14. nod
selected discography:
Precis 2006 kranky
Temper 2008 kranky
press quotes for Temper:
"Pioulard's distinctive process of melding opposites into a unified whole is a rare talent and one that will always be welcomed." Skyscraper
"Pioulard is equally gifted at creating uniquely outdoorsy sound worlds as he is at crafting hook-filled songs." All Music Guide
"This is baby-making music for sasquatches; break-up soundtracks for amoebas. Benoît Pioulard’s tarp of harmonized vocals are slid like a piece of wax between the mess below and prickly melody, bright and stereo, on top." Cokemachineglow
"Meluch's aesthetics remain hushed but at the same time fill a room with his swirling microcosm of creaks and close mic-ed strums, and of course his mournful but pleasing croon anchored squarely to the top of the mix." Raven Sings the Blues
"Pioulard's work is a remarkably effortless cohabitation between bedroom electronics and wistful songwriting." The Wire
title: This Alone Above All Else In Spite Of Everything
catalog#: krank144
formats available: LP/Digital
release date: September 6, 2010
content:
The fourth Boduf Songs extended play was created using Mathew Sweet's standard recording set up of a single microphone and a small array of instruments, but it comes with a few surprises - most notably the prominence of electric guitar, bass and stomping drums on a few tracks. All of the elements that make his previous sound creations so arresting are still present; the impeccable song structures, the minimal approach, the delicate yet dominant singing. The album opens with the naked sound of the hammers of an old upright piano striking strings, an apt metaphor for the lyrical content which is just as raw and exposed. Mathew broadens his vocal approach here, exploring range and employing some unpredictable, well-placed harmonies. This Alone Above All Else In Spite Of Everything is effectively a concept record, and makes for a dramatic journey. Mat states "There is a theme that runs through each song and the track order is paramount to that - it's a hugely important part of making a record work." So pay attention.
track listing:
1. Bought Myself A Cat O’Nine 2. Decapitation Blues 3. Absolutely Null And Utterly Void
4. I Have Decided To Pass Through Matter 5. Green They Were, And Golden Eyed
6. We Get on Slowly 7. The Giant Umbilical Cord That Connects Your Brain to the Centre of the Universe 8. I Am Going Away And I Am Never Coming Back
selected discography:
Boduf Songs 2005 kranky
Lion Devours the Sun 2006 kranky
How Shadows Chase the Balance 2008 kranky
press quotes for How Shadows Change the Balance:
"How Shadows Chase the Balance is among the most spiritually and psychologically devastating albums I've ever heard, but it's also a simple album about living life, about our peculiar position in the universe and the candid exploration of the impact those experiences have on all of us. It's also, by a large margin, one of the strongest albums I've heard this year." Tiny Mix Tapes
"...crawling folk songs drenched in a stew of fire, brimstone and, of course, blood. Yes, How Shadows Chase the Balance is in love with the gloom but rarely does despair sound this sweet." Exclaim
“How Shadows Chase the Balance is often so suffocatingly bleak that its anger and despair rarely rise above a faint but insistent ghostly presence, like the beating of a tell-tale heart. Unsettling and gorgeous..." All Music Guide
"In Boduf Songs' brutal theology, darkness devours light, death defeats the living, and nature and culture are at perpetual fisticuffs." Pitchfork
"Boduf Songs makes some of the duskiest, autumnal and beautiful loner psychedelia." Stereogum
Easily the most maligned release in Swans' discography, there is a definite awkwardness to it, no doubt in part to major label pressures and the heavy hand of Bill Laswell on the production. However, listening to the material in context, it does show the evolution of the band's sound, even with its obtuseness. While it does have a certain "sore thumb" quality to it, it is a necessary evolutionary step for the band that’s flawed, and a flawed Swans album is better than most other bands at their best.
When the more folk-tinged era of Swans was compiled on 1999s Various Failures, a large portion of the material on this album was ignored, reduced to only two tracks, while Love of Life and White Light From the Mouth of Infinity were both significantly represented.This was later fixed with the limited release of Forever Burned, which contained the album in its entirety, along with the tracks left off of Various Failures from the two subsequent albums, but even then the reissue was tough to come by.
One of the biggest issues with this album is the loss of control Michael Gira had to deal with in its creation.Sharing production duties with Bill Laswell and a slew of his session musicians, there was to be a definite Laswell stamp on the sound.For a band without a clearly established identity, this could be a good thing, because for how prolific he was (and is), Laswell knows what he's doing and is certainly not a amateur in the studio.But Swans were not a band trying to find themselves:by this point they were a monolithic force of nature that knew what they wanted to do.Due to the fact that the only Gira, Jarboe, and Norman Westberg are present, they're outnumbered by Laswell's associates, which surely was another strike against the album sounding like a true Swans one.
The acoustic guitars and dark American folk vibes that were toyed with on Children of God are in full effect here, with absolutely no hints of the concrete walls of guitar noise that characterized their previous work.However, too much of the more folk influenced sound they were cultivating is obscured by bouzouki, tablas, and other stereotypical "world music" sounds, which unfortunately strips a lot of the identity away from the disc.
While not challenging by any means, many of these songs still stand as strong compositions:opener "The River That Runs With Love Won't Run Dry" features a rather standard acoustic/electric hybrid sound with the appropriate dose of Gira's apocalyptic lyrics that still gives it a definitive Swans feeling, even if the slew of stringed instruments hint at something else."Let It Come Down" has a similar feel and structure, but features less of the heavy hand of Laswell and his cast of session players in comparison, retaining a sparser sound that fits just as well on their later albums.
There are moments where the sound begins to drift too far into forgettable major label facelessness, such as "Mona Lisa, Mother Earth" and "Saved."While the former retains a bit of darkness that has characterized the band, the latter, with lyrics such as "When sunlight falls on your shoulder/you look like a creature from heaven" are just a bit TOO far from the likes of "Raping A Slave" for its own good.On its own it's not an entirely bad song, but within the greater context of Swans, it sticks out as severely lacking.
Somewhat ironically, one of the most definitive late-period Swans songs appeared on this album.The closing "God Damn the Sun" encapsulated the Johnny Cash/Leonard Cohen hybrid that the band returned to on subsequent releases, and has been a live staple of Angels of Light since their inception.The intensely depressing lyrics fit the thematic mould of traditional country, but in a very authentic sense, and thus remains a serious downer, yet simultaneously a beautiful song.
It's not hard to see why both Gira and fans have targeted this disc as being a less than stellar album, because it simply does have too much polish to it, in a bad way. While those who followed Swans from the beginning were probably the most dismayed upon this release 21 years ago, because it so clearly signified the death of the heavy, sludgy sound that was on its way out with the previous Children of God album.However, once they were able to better shape the sound on the subsequent releases on Gira's own Young God imprint, it obviously is a necessary evolutionary step in their career.The thing for me is, there's a number of good songs here, they just suffer from cluttered percussion and spotty execution.I have always wondered what The Burning World would sound like without Laswell's session musicians and the influence of Uni/MCA Records on the final release.If this had been a fully Gira-led production on an independent label from the beginning, I think the world would have a much different perspective on it.It is certainly not a shining star in the Swans discography, but it's better than many would lead one to believe.
This is the kind of music that makes my brain feel like it is chewing itself. The five short works here act as a kind of clearing house for my mind; listening enforces defragmentation. These works act like miniature vacuum cleaners, erasing all the info-garbage that tends to accumulate after a few uninterrupted hours of total media immersion. Visceral and cacophonous it reminds me I have a body. Listening to noise is healthy.
I tend to think of noise in magickal terms: it performs the same kind of psychic function as a banishing ritual does, cleansing the area in which it is played, or the mind of the person who plays or listens to it. I’m not suggesting that Jeff Carey subscribes to this viewpoint, but these are the types of experiences I am in search of when listening to the style. The noise I enjoy also has an ecstatic quality, putting me back in touch with my body. This is especially important to me as I am a writer who works in a library, and with the vast swathes of information and media at my disposal it is easy to get stuck in my head. Meditation is good for calming the mind, but noise cuts to the chase and silences my thoughts for me.
This EP does all of this for me in a way that is quick and succinct. Recorded live and direct-to-disc without overdubs it captures the immediacy of his electro-instrumental style. As an electronic musician who is dedicated to performance, Jeff Carey creates his own software and gear allowing him to control all parameters of composition in real time. The sounds themselves do not belie their construction, and they seem as if they were perfected in a hermetically sealed chamber. While clearly digital the songs are muscular and vigorous.
"Ctrl" opens the disc with a fluttering of gelatinous flubber, interspersed with quick squelches, clicks, clacks, and mechanical clucks. "Mod" seems to use more ring modulation, lending pleasant glissando and resonance to the signals. "Freq" is quieter, focusing in on static. It moves along like soft stream of gently attenuated and polished white noise. While all the material is highly abstract "Trig" is also the most dissonant. Scraping sounds, akin to bowed metal, zoom alongside the prominent percussive blasts that give the song its meat. The disc ends about twenty minutes after it starts, making this a perfect listen for when I need to quiet the caterwauling of my mind. That external noise can create internal silence is an essential paradox of this music.
In characteristic Sublime Frequencies fashion, Mark Gergis' latest compilation documents a truly unique and flourishing scene that very few people even knew existed. It is hard to think of many positive things that came out of the Vietnam War but the free exchange of music and equipment between American soldiers and Saigon's hipper young musicians certainly resulted in some raucous and inventive music that could not have otherwise existed. Punk would have had no reason to happen if rock music had been this wild in the Western world in the mid-'70s.
This is the sort of album that could only have come out on Sublime Frequencies for many reasons, but the main one is that compiling such a retrospective seemed like such a complicated and near-hopeless task: these songs were essentially wiped from the earth after Saigon fell to the Viet Cong in 1975.Some musicians were tipped-off by friends and were able to flee the country to continue their careers as nomadic rock n’ roll refugees, but the ones that stayed behind were forced to destroy any evidence of Western culture to avoid being dispatched to reform camps.Further complicating the endeavor was the fact that Southeast Asian cultures have a tendency to view pop music as a disposable and very of-the-moment thing.Even if this music had remained available, most Vietnamese music fans wouldn’t care.They are interested in what is happening now, not forty years ago ("fetishism of the old is left to those rare creatures obsessed enough to take on the task"). As if that wasn't enough, any new interpretations are viewed as supplanting the original versions, making Internet searches an exasperating process.Consequently, original recordings from that short-lived era are staggeringly difficult to come by in 2010, even without a language barrier standing in the way.Fortunately, Gergis was aided in his efforts by a California record collector named Rick Foust who had presciently snapped up a lot of these recordings when they were available in Vietnamese-owned shops in the '80s.
Gergis definitely tried to give a broad overview of the scene, which necessarily means that listeners will probably not fall in love with every single song.On the flip side, however, it is hard to imagine anyone who loves music not being floored by at least one or two pieces here.I personally had a hard time embracing some of the more high-pitched vocal performances, like Bich Loan's opening "Tinh Yêu Tuyêt Vòi."Fortunately, he is backed by CBC Band, whom the liner notes describe (quite rightly) as "teenage acid rock of the highest order."Acid rock is generally not a favorite genre of mine, but these teens were smart enough to replace its more plodding and self-indulgent aspects with infectious youthful exuberance and a rumbling, funky low-end.It is impossible not to love a band that is so obviously intent on tearing it up.Notably, even though Rolling Stone proclaimed them "The Best Band in the Orient" at one point, they only ever recorded two songs (for the soundtrack to a comedy, no less).The band, who now live in Texas, were absolutely stunned that Mark found those songs (even they themselves hadn’t heard them in nearly four decades).
The most essential piece on the album, however, is probably Bang Chan's incendiary "Nhurng Dóm Mat Hoa Châu," which features one of the absolute best rhythm sections that I have ever heard.The groove is so perfect that the rest of the band could have been playing literally anything and it wouldn't matter, but everything else is great too: wild organ solos, smoky saxophones, fuzzed out guitars, and cool sultry vocals.It must have been a bit disorienting for some G.I.s to come back home and hear the comparatively neutered rock being played on radios in the US after experiencing such funky, frenzied abandon abroad.That said, there are a number of other stunning pieces strewn throughout the album that take wildly different stylistic paths, such as Lê Thu's languidly melancholy "Sao Bien," the mutant Motown girl-group pop of Thai Thanh, and Thanh Lan's suavely cosmopolitan "Hoài Thu."
As with just about all Sublime Frequencies releases, the sound quality is quite raw.It actually works quite effectively in this case, as this music deserves to be heard as it was experienced in those steamy Saigon clubs forty years ago: gritty and unfiltered.Most of these artists rely heavily on sinuously funky bass lines and overdriven and wah-wah'ed guitars, both of which only sound more visceral with increased volume and in-the-red recording quality.In general, I am not a fan a foreign pastiches of American rock, but the sheer enthusiasm and passion of these musicians transcended my apathy beautifully and instantly.Saigon Rock & Soul captures a singular cultural nexus: the thrill of discovering rock and roll colliding with the urgency of living in the midst of a war zone.This is some of the most thrillingly alive music that will be released this year (and one impressive feat of musicology to boot).
The origins of this compilation read like the plot to an quirky indie comedy: a German musicologist misplaces his passport, loses his luggage, misses his flight, and winds up taking a completely different flight. When he arrives at his revised destination, he spends some time with a compelling eccentric, some unexpected things happen, and the experience changes the course of his life. The eccentric character in this instance was Dick Essilfe-Bonzie, a producer for Ghana's influential indie label Essiebons, and reluctant caretaker of a mountain of forgotten recordings that Polygram never bothered to collect when they took over.
It is both fascinating and alarming how much of a role serendipity and chance play in musicology sometimes.Altered flight destination aside, curator Samy Ben Redjeb was not planning to embark upon a Ghana compilation at all when Essilfe-Bonzie presented him with a box of recently digitized recordings that he was thinking of emerging from retirement to release himself.Soon after, Redjeb learned that the reissue project wasn’t going to happen after all ("things are complicated")and that Dick had several huge boxes of doomed master tapes sitting on his veranda getting rained on.Given that: 1.) he had no choice but to save the tapes, and 2.) he already had heard quite a bit of great of great music from Essilfe-Bonzie's prematurely aborted digitizing project, it became a forgone conclusion that Samy needed to shelve his Togo and Benin projects and plunge into the sudden windfall of Ghana-iana.I am curious to see how many more albums emerge from this treasure trove, as only 12 of the songs included on Afro-Beat Airways were actually taken from Dick's archive.
For the most part, the focus of the album is placed quite squarely on funky, organ-based Afro-Beat.To his credit, Redjeb avoids the unnecessarily epic song lengths and prolonged, self-indulgent solos that have historically torpedoed many of my Afro-Beat listening experiences.In fact, most of the songs are a punchy four minutes or under, except for the cases where they are excellent enough to warrant departing from that formula.If it weren't for the inclusion of a brief and infectiously propulsive piece by De Frank Professionals, song length would actually be directly proportional to song quality: all of my other favorites tend to go on for a while.In particular, the K. Frimpong and Ebo Taylor pieces are pretty stellar.Notably, two of those were among the tapes liberated from the boxes sitting outside Essilfe-Bonzie's house, narrowly avoiding oblivion to become compilation highlights.I was also quite fond of African Brothers Band's "Ngyegye No So," which features a charming mid-song spoken breakdown courtesy of the very charismatic Nana Ampedu ("Well well well...my people, are you okay?").I'm a sucker for those.
Afro-Beat Airways is a very solid and likable compilation.There wasn't a single song that stood out as a flat-out masterpiece (aside from maybe Ebo Taylor's sinuously funky "Come Along"), but nothing stood out as disappointing either.That is no small feat, as Ghana—like Nigeria—has been anthologized to death in recent years.Unearthing the gems from such a vast and complicated trove of available material is a never-ending (and daunting) sifting process and Redjeb has done a great job of it. I was particularly excited about the K. Frimpong piece, which I didn't have yet (and would never have had, without his intervention).I was equally thrilled to learn from the liner notes that Vis-à-vis were his studio backing band, thus providing me with my next internet scavenging target.
Obviously, a lot of great African music is turning up on mp3 blogs like Awesome Tapes From Africa, but having a knowledgeable guy like Samy around to ferret out all the best stuff and write about it is pretty wonderful and indispensable.Not many people have the resources or patience to try to chase down dozens of long-retired obscure musicians in foreign countries, so a lot of the pictures, anecdotes, and line-up details included here are pretty unique and invaluable. The album itself is certainly enjoyable, but the accompanying interviews and biographical information are even better.
I do not know if there would have been a more fitting epitaph for the departing Hydra Head label. As the final full length release, Black Curtain channels both the beautiful and the ugly of the label’s catalog, in a wonderfully engaging deconstruction of metal as a genre and as an art form, something Aaron Turner and colleagues embarked upon with the founding of Hydra Head 17 years ago.
Jodis, the trio of guitarist/vocalist Turner, bassist James Plotkin, and drummer Tim Wyskida, at times bears more than a passing resemblance to Khanate, partially because Plotkin and Wyskida were that project’s rhythm section as well.Both projects revel in a beyond slow crawl, letting any guitar riff or drum beat ring out for what seems like an infinity.However, while the misanthropic Khanate was largely characterized by Alan Dubin's inhuman, demonic snarl, Turner's vocals here are much more calm and restrained.Khanate's slow plod was like malignant thoughts stewing in the mind of a medicated psychopath, while Jodis uses the lugubrious pacing to develop into an introspective, depressive beauty.
The sprawling, tortured guitar of "Broken Ground," the album opener, exemplifies this.It is erratic and fragmented, yet conjures a brilliantly sad sensibility to it.Turner's vocals stay low in the mix, depressed yet melodic, radiating a powerful sense of isolation.The infrequent drums add a dramatic punctuation, without providing any sense of inertia.The guitar slowly builds upon itself, becoming more and more distorted until reaching a glorious crescendo of noise.
None of the six pieces move at anything but a glacial pace, and there is more space than density, but the album is far from monotone."Red Bough" first alternates between only vocals and threadbare guitar notes. It transforms into a slightly faster, bombastic piece with the full rhythm section and quells back to more ambient spaces."Awful Feast" eschews most riffing entirely, leaving only chiming guitar notes and treated, monastic chanted vocals.
The album closer, "Beggar's Hand," is the only time where things begin to get dark, with the downtuned guitars diving more into the low end, becoming a more bleak and visceral experience.It retains the more beautiful elements of what preceded, and Turner continues singing rather than growling, but there is more of a sinister undercurrent.Surprisingly, for such a dramatic sounding piece, it ends the album on a rather understated note.
The slow, depressive pace of Black Curtain simply adds to its mood, but like the best Jesu material, it never comes across as a self-indulgent mope. Instead it is cautiously optimistic and empowered, spotlighting the power and beauty that can arise from sadness.As a swansong piece for a beloved label, it is a perfect one.
With each release, this Canadian duo has taken their idiosyncratic approach to black metal and pushed it out further, to the point where it bares little resemblance to the genre that birthed it. Alight in Ashes, for example, brings in much more in the way of noise-tinged soundscapes and haunting, unique vocals than it does any staccato riffs or cookie monster growls.
One of the two most striking facets of this album is its lack of percussion.Some deep, monotone thuds can be heard lurking in the either on "Salamandra" and "Cup of Oblivion," the latter especially coming across as some Neolithic caveman pounding a simple, but functional rhythm.Other than that the album is pure ambience and texture
The other distinctive element is Geneviève’s distinctive voice, which seems to channel some medieval madrigal more so than anything of the modern era.For that reason some of the tracks, most specifically "Disease of Fear," take on a certain neo-folk quality, though amidst distorted squalls and fuzzy synths rather than acoustic guitars or more traditionalist instrumentation.
The opening to the aforementioned "Disease of Fear" also looks more towards the past than the present:structurally it does sound almost like a medieval ballad, but played by a barely controlled passage of feedbacking guitar.The dichotomy between classical and modernism, of powerful beauty and ugly dissonance, is an ongoing theme throughout the album.The stripped down "Burnt Offerings" is just guitar that reaches soaring and dramatic swells of gorgeous tone and guttural, unpleasant lows for eight brilliant minutes.
The same dichotomy applies on "Arsenikon (Faded in Discord)":bent and lovely guitar tones clash with one another under multi-tracked, droning vocals in a stop/start structure that prevents things from getting too comfortable.The more attractive sounds begin to take command at the end, only be swallowed by a morass of static and noise.
Alight in Ashes is an even further abstraction of conventional sound than its predecessors, which is definitely an asset in the overpopulated world of black metal and its various offshoots.Unlike other albums in this field though, it is inviting and downright melodic at times, leading to a great, eclectic whole.
In 1991 three exceptionally creative and influential records were dropped on a mostly deaf audience. It took many years for people to catch up with Talk Talk's Laughing Stock and Slint's Spiderland, and by then numerous other bands had already borrowed their ideas and built new ones upon them. Unfortunately, Swans' White Light from the Mouth of Infinity is still waiting for people to catch up. It completes the trajectory that was begun with Children of God and it perfects the ideas that were only half-realized on The Burning World. More than an influential record, it is arguably Swans' finest and most concise accomplishment to date.
Close on the heels of last year's Caress, Redact, the latest work from Public Speaking’s Jason Anthony Harris (along with some friends) is an even further refinement of his deconstruction of soulful pop and R&B sounds. With equal measures vocals, piano, found sounds, and synth noises, he shapes these disparate elements into catchy songs, albeit within a depressing and bleak context.
Easily the most maligned release in Swans' discography, there is a definite awkwardness to it, no doubt in part to major label pressures and the heavy hand of Bill Laswell on the production. However, listening to the material in context, it does show the evolution of the band's sound, even with its obtuseness. While it does have a certain "sore thumb" quality to it, it is a necessary evolutionary step for the band that’s flawed, and a flawed Swans album is better than most other bands at their best.
This is the kind of music that makes my brain feel like it is chewing itself. The five short works here act as a kind of clearing house for my mind; listening enforces defragmentation. These works act like miniature vacuum cleaners, erasing all the info-garbage that tends to accumulate after a few uninterrupted hours of total media immersion. Visceral and cacophonous it reminds me I have a body. Listening to noise is healthy.
In characteristic Sublime Frequencies fashion, Mark Gergis' latest compilation documents a truly unique and flourishing scene that very few people even knew existed. It is hard to think of many positive things that came out of the Vietnam War but the free exchange of music and equipment between American soldiers and Saigon's hipper young musicians certainly resulted in some raucous and inventive music that could not have otherwise existed. Punk would have had no reason to happen if rock music had been this wild in the Western world in the mid-'70s.
The origins of this compilation read like the plot to an quirky indie comedy: a German musicologist misplaces his passport, loses his luggage, misses his flight, and winds up taking a completely different flight. When he arrives at his revised destination, he spends some time with a compelling eccentric, some unexpected things happen, and the experience changes the course of his life. The eccentric character in this instance was Dick Essilfe-Bonzie, a producer for Ghana's influential indie label Essiebons, and reluctant caretaker of a mountain of forgotten recordings that Polygram never bothered to collect when they took over.
