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.
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Over the course of four albums and some relentless touring, Mono have proven themselves capable of making some noise. On You Are There, however, the band doesn't burst in with guns blazing, but quietly sneak in through the side door. They haven't succumbed, however, to making an MOR record by a long shot.
Sometimes the element of surprise is a stronger statement when made soft. What I first take serious notice of on this album is the lyrical bassline, as basslines in general are becoming almost far too ignored. Too many bands it seems are leaving bass out left and right, maybe because the obsession with becoming a rock star is way too commonplay currently, but somehow when the bass guitar comes in after a +4 minute intro, the music exits its incubation and its life begins. Recorded and mixed once again by that relatively unknown and underappreciated Steve Albini (boy can that kid mic a drumset) You Are There clocks in at exactly 60 minutes, and none of them feel wasted.
I can see how Mono might be accused of sounding like other acts but they need to be commended for the ability to both fill the sound and make it something beautiful enough to fall in love with. Sure, they have a lot of extremities and tendencies to layer guitars till speakers rumble, but there are beautiful valleys between the majestic peaks. "A Heart Has Asked for the Pleasure," the album's second song is a purely drum and noise free piece nicely sandwiched between the energetic opener and the Mono side to last year's split with Pelican, "Yearning." It's in this brief valley where the band decorate the landscape with string-like sounds and glistening glockenspiel-like chimes. The fact it stretches to over three minutes is a definite evolution for Mono, who are classically known to keep their quieter pieces short. Back to the ruckus, "Yearning," a popular live favorite, unsurprisingly the track they picked to pair with Pelican, sees the band dancing with metal with a chugging bassline any Hydra Head fan can adore.
After the screaming blaze of "Yearning" finishes smoldering, the band return to the more reserved, more majestic, and quite cinematic sound with the album's (almost) title track, "Are You There?" It calmly eggs us on, hinting at an explosive outburst in numerous spots, building up and building up, only for the rockers to throw a curve ball, as it all unfolds to a gorgeous cello melody, subtly joined by guitar only in its last throes.
When I interviewed Taka (one of the guitarist) for The Eye segment nearly three years ago, they were on tour supporting their second album, One Step More and You Die. Back then, he fondly spoke of his obsession with classical music and yearning to introduce it into the band somehow. The last two tracks of You Are There are probably the closest as the first one is largely a soft piano melody and the album's finale, the 13-minute "Moonlight," opens with what seems like a piano, string, and marimba opening, only to part ways for some quiet guitars, which patiently hold their ground until all hell breaks loose and Mono unleash what the hardcore fans all came out to see.
Mono have a sound, that's undeniable, and while it can become limiting, they have shown their ability to expanding on it without abandonment. Exercising more discipline in composition, restraint, and patience, the band has only become stronger.
Hecq’s latest album is presented with a stark, well-composed black andwhite landscape photograph and that cover image is the perfectintroduction to an album that’s also well-made but lacking identity.
Bad Karmais immaculately produced and tightly composed. The sound design isinteresting without flying off into show-off territory and the rhythmsare clean and intricate, always changing to keep songs moving and tokeep interest from waning. The record is engineered with the kind ofcrisp digital clarity that will make hi-fi systems stand up and takenotice, and it’s perfectly mixed to give space to every nuance, tick,drumbeat, and stuttering drone. Alas, this is a record and not an engineering project.
Sure,it’s a great sounding record and it’ll give the bass bins and tweetersa workout and it would serve perfectly as a primer on how to createmodern dance-influenced but not danceable music, but I’m starting tofeel like all of that isn’t quite enough. I rarely buy records tomarvel at the composition and engineering skills behind the mixingdesk, and Hecq, in all of the technical expertise on display here, hastaken out 90% of what I look for in music!
The melodies arealmost non-existent, stripped away consciously so that the music canfocus more on rhythm and structure. That’s fine in a way, but there’snothing here that we haven’t heard before. The beats stutter and buzz,skip and scatter around like a robot drummer with a short circuit, andit’s fun headphone candy, but it doesn’t pack much of an emotionalpunch. The rhythms are buoyed by atonal washes of brooding drones andsynth pads that are nice but not unexpected.
Maybe it’s justthat time of the year when it starts getting colder out and I want tobundle up in the house with a nice warm blanket of comforting soundsand music that pulls at the heartstrings, but I found Bad Karmato be practically lifeless. There are brilliant production moments suchas the integration of ethnic percussion, chopped up jungle breaks, anda bit of call and response rhythm programming, but that’s just notenough to keep the fire lit, I’m afraid.
There are no marks on this collection suggestive of product or capital. The music, packaged in a jewelry box with five heavy stock cards, bares no trace of greed or dishonesty. The entire package is, on all counts, a work of art far removed from concerns about ownership or illegal practices. The simple act of opening this package is a joy, a revelation of personality and craftsmanship and the importance they still carry in the world of music.
Not since I bought my first LP has a package seemed so stunning. The artwork may be small and the presentation austere, but it carries a personality all its own. This is the work of an individual whose personality shines through his music and his choice of medium. With him comes an entirely new world, a place reshaped in the name of sound and forged beneath the idea that sound is transformative, musical, and everywhere all of the time. Lionel Marchetti is a student of Pierre Schaeffer, a composer whose heart belongs entirely to the uneven pulse of musique concrète's open arms. Both music and musician are welcoming on this collection, enticing listeners to open up the box and travel somewhere for an hour or so, forgetting, in the process, whatever notions might influence the way Red Dust could be heard initially.
The collection is broken up into three 3" discs, each described as a separate movement in a "study" on musique concrète. Do not let the academic language be deceiving. Although Marchetti might be a student of the art, his music is a living mass of people, places, musicians, and ideas. This is not a work of art that belongs in the stuffy atmosphere of a museum or in the halls of an egocentric art gallery; Red Dust is alive, stirring up memories and reanimating old sources of inspiration in its movement. Each disc has an accompanying card included in the set. These cards list the track titles, the musicians responsible for each piece, and in some instances the names of musicians or artists from whom Marchetti has pulled samples or ideas. Included in the collection are the names Fritz Lang, Marcel Duchamp, Pierre Schaeffer, Henri Chopin, and some other, slightly more surprising names: This Heat, Keiji Haïno, The Residents, and PanSonic. It is obvious that Marchetti truly believes music is everywhere and in every time as his choice of sources reflects an expansive appreciation for music in many different forms. Each of the three discs are, in fact, quite distinct, but form a loose narrative in the same way that some cubist art approximates movement. There is room for the listener in this box, plenty of space for him or her to communicate with the sounds and inform where it will go next. The very act of listening changes the outcome of this collection, but every act of listening will also exact a trace of stunning beauty and perverse movement in the brain of the participant.
The first disc, entitled "Livre Maudit," is described as a three part performance in ten movements. Many of the pieces on this disc are less than half a minute long. Four of the tracks, in fact, occupy well over half of this disc. The mood is overwhelmingly dark, the industrial sounds used generating a repressive and dangerous atmosphere. With the inclusion of either hysterical or serene vocal parts, Marchetti creates a pool of ever-changing emotions. The use of romantic, nearly Caretaker-esque samples only strengthens the sense that Jack Nicholson is on the verge of bringing some of his dead friends back from the grave and putting them all in the most grotesque of ballroom dances. Instead of occupying a haunted hotel, however, they're all going to travel by way of electricity and warp every corner of the industrial world. Pierre Schaeffer's train stations and Keiji Haïno's guitars are equally in danger of being haunted and cursed by these apparitions. At the same time, Marchetti includes some exquisite vocals and gentle silences in his compositions. The sense that this disc is, in reality, cursed increases with each listen. Moving to the second disc will only reveal just how dense and manic the first is.
Both the second and third discs, "Livre Magnétique" and "Livre D'Eos,"are given more room to stretch. Instead of occupying either of these"books" with a spattering of very short pieces, both contain a seriesof longer compositions that reflect more than attack. The inclusion ofrobotic voices over the duration of the remaining music instills astrong sense of narrative omnipresence. Both "Saturne" and "VisionsesNocturnae" on the second disc contain robotic conversations thatinclude the composers name and, supposedly, his own explanation for thework he does. Not only does this put the music in an immediateproximity to the listener, but it bestows a sense of purpose,interrupting what might be considered a purely abstract collection andinterjecting cause and effect or even history into the project. Therobot asks questions like "Do you like my music?" and situates therecordings by addressing them as "modern." It's an almost comicalmoment considering much of what Marchetti does is rooted in a past thatmay seem more distant than it really is. All the while an exquisitedrone passes by in the background with only the most subtle ofthunderous rumblings interrupting it. Piano, static, radio signals, andmarching bands all press together and by the end it feels as thoughMarchetti has opened the temple of his body and invited everyone insidefor the remainder of the show. It's a stunning moment where the artistand the observer switch places, where the artist is forced to addressthe fact that he has an audience that he must listen to and understandas an artistic group. The artist can, after all, only compose to theextent that he is hindered by other, perhaps invisible factors. Anaudience is a perfect example of this kind of censorship and it seemsto me that Marchetti is aware of that.
The final disc is my favorite; it is a sprawling work composed primarily of two compositions. The atmosphere is nocturnal, slow, and organic. "Penombra" features guitar and percussion as well as some seductive, near-operatic vocals, but is also satisfyingly abstract, floating hazily in the distance and slowly releasing the pressure that was built over the previous 40 minutes or so. It is amazingly beautiful and strikes me as the most musical piece in the collection. By the end of the disc, Marchetti has traveled from the dense, layered affairs that were characteristic of many of the earliest experimental recordings, to the open and free compositions that typify the work of many drone artists and other sound collage enthusiasts. "L'incendie" closes everything with the ringing bells of a church, the movement of ideas, information, fears, and problems passing below its incessant vibration. The piece seems to ring on forever, the inclusion of screams, radio interference, and other strange sounds only increasing the power of its hum. Marchetti affects this change subtly, allowing it to occur slowly, almost to the extent that it is unnoticeable. The melodic phrases that appear on the final disc seem to chart the end of abstract composition, but do not rob it of its grandeur and its ability to travel through time and reveal the music that is the world. On the other hand, perhaps these pieces reveal that everything is essentially musique concrète. All the music of the world has, in one way or another, been influenced by sounds that already existed. Composers simply structured them according to what they had available. Compositions are often written before they are expressed in sound, but perhaps sounds has always been there before the composition. There is no escaping the world as music.
There are very few boxed sets, much less records, that seem as well thought out as this one does. There are very few abstract recordings impressing me anymore, their weight and power seemingly fading away due to over saturation. Marchetti, however, has invigorated my belief in this medium and its ability to remind the listener that music is more than a product or a way to pass some time in an entertaining fashion. Music is ultimately an art and art ultimately informs, challenges, and provokes. There can be little doubt of that after listening to Red Dust. It strips the musical world of barcodes, FBI warnings, and greedy punks, and places music firmly in the realm of the listener's ears and mind. There are 300 copies of this collection available from Crouton and they are not asking a lot for it. This is highly recommended, as both a cerebral experience and a musical one.
There’s still something about split seven-inches that carry a buzz of discovery. It’s even better when both acts follow dissimilar visions instead of the label going for the safe option of similar sounding acts.
Lachrymose One comes over like a mash-up of twisty moody art guitar and palm-on-ear folk singing. These twin vocals (both from the band’s core member Richard Mark Warren) move from hospitable harmonies work to confusingly singing different lines / words with the same melodies alongside each other. It’s this mix that makes the song more than just a catchy splintered choppy riffed noisy missive. A punchy finale after the building peals and worn-out lyrics loses blood into a receding buzzing ending. Lachrymose may mean ‘inclined to weep’ but it’s the flipside that’s more likely to cause heartbreak.
The now defunct Sansava (who have since metamorphosed into the ache fest solo project Summer Night Air) offer a criminally brief two-and-a-half minute untitled piece. The understated soft liquid guitar lines give the song a kind of weightless tuneage that unfolds as it progresses. I don’t even think that the word exquisite would be an exaggeration in this case. The brushed drums sound washed out and remote and the slight echo make everything seem like its curling awake in smoke. The temptation to broaden this song by stretching it into a lengthier gorgeous less populated wasteland must have been overwhelming. As satisfying as it is, it niggles that it runs so short, but it’s not enough to spoil what of the track there is.
If it was 20 years earlier, an album like this wouldn't havesurprised anybody by popping up on Paisley Park Records, as it's gotsome sort of fragile white soul that Prince seemed to frequently chase and salivate over,but the fact that it's been released on Temporary Residence, a labelknown more for instrumental guy-rock, is a bit of a surprise.
Caroline Lufkin,born and raised in Japan, educated in Boston, now residing inCalifornia, has assembled a talented supporting cast of what seems likepeople from numerous places to make her recordings complete. Theinstrumentation is fantastic, with lush strings, faint guitar, piano,and unique beats. I'm in two worlds sometimes, however, as her talent as a singer and writer isundeniable, and the delivery is delicate and clearly sincere, it gets a littlesickeningly sweet sometimes, with "too cute" sugary vocals that border ongrating and lyrics that are, at times, disappointingly sophomoric.
"Where's My Love," the preceeding single released last year is theperfect introduction to her music, as it's pleasant, pretty, sweet asthe icing on a birthay cake, and is cute enough to fall in love with,and the critics spoke up last year about it. It's the album's opener,however, "Bicycle," a blurry childhood memory, that's quirky enough tomake her an original, as it's an unpredictable story about chasing aboy down the street and recalling only the bicycle and not his face.The more upbeat songs like "Everylittlething," with its very DepecheMode sounding keyboard bassline, will be a fave amongst the Morr Musicfans, while I can see a song like "All I Need" becoming one of those'our song' moments for a college student love affair after beingfeatured on the OC.
I love the almost Minnie Ripperton-esque performance on "I'll LeaveMy Heart Behind," (hey that's not a bad thing at all, I love popmusic). I could, however, personally deal with less repetition ofuninspirational lyrics on songs like "Drove Me to the Wall" ("you drove me to the wall / I put my car in stall") and the album closer, "Winter" ("if we hold onto each other life would be so sweet / if we hold onto each other life would be complete"),as I prefer my pop a little edgier. (And despite the lyrics on herwebsite, I think it sounds like she's singing the opposite by singing"wouldn't" instead of "would.") Regardless, I'm positive thatpopularity is inevitable for Caroline, as she's talented enough with asound that can win the hearts of many.
Pressed on gold vinyl and packaged in a black sleeve with gold print depicting Medieval interpretations of the apocalypse, Angel Coma looks like it’s going to be heavy. Each side contains a single, long track, one by each band. Both tracks were recorded with the current lineups from the bands; Sunn O))) including vocals via Xasthur and noise provided by John Wiese and Oren Ambarchi; Earth being the Hex lineup of Carlson and Davies plus three.
“A Plague of Angels” by Earth is previously available on the recent live album Live Hex but this studio version is a different take on it. The live version was very sparse with just three players on it. This studio version is fleshed out with Steve Moore on trumpet and mellotron and Randall Dunn on low frequency oscillator. The additional instrumentation adds a lot to the piece. It’s a pity this wasn’t recorded in time for the Hex album as it would have been a mighty addition to it.
The contribution from Sunn O))) was harder to get into. It is almost radical for them in that there is hardly any bass present in the song. It sounds thin, like radio static through cheap speakers. Xasthur’s vocals sound as chilling as ever but there was something missing from his performance. I think I had expectations of their track being in the same vein as the Black One album but “Coma Mirror” is a departure from that sound. In time I think it will become a favourite but at this point in time I’m not feeling it. What I did like about this track is that it works better as a tribute to black metal than Black One did. The thinness captured that Norwegian iciness that is present on early recordings by Burzum and Mayhem, the low fidelity recordings being one of the defining features of classic black metal.
What Angel Coma shows best is how much these once very similar groups have diverged in recent years. Although always present in their arsenal, Sunn O))) are exploring more the atmospheres and tones that electronics beyond the guitar open up and less on THE RIFF. Earth on the other hand have embraced this new country style and this track shows that Hex is not a once off blip in their back catalogue. Carlson is getting better at constructing these powerful, minimalist tracks and I hope that he sticks to this sound for at least another album.
No samples thanks to this being a vinyl only release, apologies!
It's been written that this ground has been walked on before, but such a statement is an ignorant one that fails to acknowledge the finer moments of Chihei Hatakeyama's work. These recordings are anything but common, exhibiting an unusual attention to detail that surpasses the efforts of many like-minded musicians. Hatakeyama's work practically defines how musicality and expressionism can work well together.
Hatakeyama has worked with the computer-centered duo Opitope prior to this release on Kranky; his dedication to processed sound shines through on Minima Moralia, but so does his appreciation for music. Where so many electro-acoustic projects find themselves meandering about in fields of half-melodic, atonal, completely abstract songs, Hatakeyama's music openly accepts melodic majesty and organic growth. Each of his seven songs soar on the back of glimmering sounds processed to oblivion and back, but each of them rely on the tiny movements of smaller, more important sounds. It is as if Hatakeyama's drones are merely a background for the microscopic movements that caress each song. That is not to be mistaken for a comment that suggests his drones are unimportant, but it is an observation that suggests Hatakeyama loves the small details more than anything else.
The music is certainly serene, exuding a calm that no ambient project I've ever heard as ever succeeded in realizing. The music, although minimal in nature, is entirely active, brimming over with the pulse of plucked guitars and emotive violin parts. "Swaying Curtain in the Window" flows forward gently and uninterrupted for a short period of time, but then the chime of guitars enters; every phrase contains a recognizable rhythm and a steady hand that guides them through loops and corkscrews. The interaction of these guitars is imperative to the track and Hatakeyama handles their mingling expertly. It's an addictively serene moment on the record and one that is repeated, in various ways, throughout the album. Hatakeyama isn't interested in putting anyone to sleep, his compositions are far too lively for that. It's this liveliness that gives the record its serene qualities, not the absence of movement or a static property.
Throughout each of the seven tracks, Hatakeyama drifts between the subconscious and the conscious, between the surreal and the alert. While some tracks revel in small percussive chirps or simple additions, others work because of their sudden surprises. "Inside of the Pocket" features a lovely melody on violin that appears virtually out of nowhere. Despite its sudden entry into the music, the simple appeal it brings to the music makes sense and does not interrupt what themes Hatakeyama had built up to that point. Hatakeyama builds the mood over the entire album incredibly well, but he manages to keep everything fresh by executing the element of surprise continually throughout the record. There may be a minimum of sources on Minima Moralia, but the music is broad, full of life, and constantly expanding from beginning to end. Nobody has covered ground quite like this before.
Tsunoda is one of my favorite artists working with fieldrecorded media mainly because of the way in which his body of work tests thedefinitions and possibilities of “environmental” sound or music.
The typical Tsunodarecording, this one no exception, contains necessarily subtle combinations of nearlyuntreated outdoor recordings (bodies of water are recurring), the amplifiedvibrations of small metal or glass objects, and artist-generated sinewavetones. Through juxtaposition andalignment, Tsunoda prods questions concerning the significance of setting, thelimitations and changing patterns of human auditory awareness, and the basicphenomenology of sound, something everyone using field captures must engage,but something very dominant in Tsunoda’s work, often at the expense of whatwould seem either immediately or conventionally pleasant to the ear.
Ridge alternatesrelatively short tracks of different oceanfronts, including what is probablyboat engine “arrival” recordings, with the sounds of different vibratingmetals, stimulated by extreme frequencies and supplemented once with sinewave. Tsunoda’s focus here is much lessconceptually complex that on earlier works, like 2004’s Scenery of Decalcomania, where similar sound sourcing ended in agrand scrutinizing of environmental autonomy and the ear’s necessary brandingof auditory stimulus. On Ridge, the artist’s only provideddirection is one of comparison, in which the subtle complexities of the surfget aligned with the vastly scaled-down recordings of metal in vibration.
That the metallic sounds cannot be called “smaller” is onlythe start. The low, wavering rumbles andshrill wines of these metals uncannily create the forever unfolding vistas ofaquatic movement, though most impressively, at the proper volume, they soundabsolutely immense. As a recreationallistener, I am typically drawn to the field-captured sections of Tsunoda’sdiscs, but not so here, as his object recordings, if a bit less complex, are disproportionatelypowerful, eclipsing the subtleties of the frankly boring (in comparison toprevious works) Bay recordings.
Ultimately, I am attracted to Tsunoda’s body of work because,despite conceptual underpinnings and the rigor of his methods, an intenselistenable and repeatable nature shows itself, making later scrutiny andimmersion better possible. That I’vefound Ridge to be immediately lessappealing than other works is probably just the moment speaking, and at the artist’scontinual request, I am content to sit back and hear that moment change.
Imust confess that Andrew Chalk has been scoring my ritual eveningrelax/unwind "me-time" almost exclusively for the last few weeks. The newest release is exceptionally fantastic, reminding me why peoplepay outrageous amounts for his releases at online auctions.
There's an amazing attention to aesthetics that Andrew Chalkundeniably pays for each release with his name on it. It starts withthe music and continues through the cover artwork, packaging, andpresentation.
The first part of Blue Eyes of the March is a 20 minute longpiece which sounds like it was created by a prepared guitar, tuned onlyto play a limited number of pre-determined notes as they're quietlyplucked and resonate for long stretches. The tones resemble some ofthose on the Buddha Box, and while the effect is similarlyserene and meditative, there's a number of differences that areinherent with the basic natures of the medium. The biggest advantage Ithink is the ability to amplify the sound and be completely bathed init, which is something Chalk's music always lends itself to. Chalk'smusic is not on a loop, either, and each piece makes a gradualevolution over the time.
The second part is an absolutely heavenly 31 minute long piece.Unlike the first part, this one sounds like it was created by piano,yet it echoing in a similar way to the other. The piano tones andtreatment are almost reminiscent of some 20+ year old Harold Budd workbut while the set notes are very rigid, Chalk's playing is quite fluid.High pitched tones and low pitched tones add colorization but it's hardto tell if they are being created by other sources or if they'reserendipitous side-effects. Either way, the combination is hypnotic andpractically time-bending: I never realize that 31 minutes have passedwhile entrenched in this recording.
For the packaging, Chalk continues on in the ways of the first threereleases on Faraway Press: a rigid cardboard sleeve with no wordsmucking up the artwork; an inner baggie for the disc; an obi with thealbum title; all contained in a piece of resealable plastic to protectthe cover. I've had this CD at work and at home and in both places,friends who usually have nothing to do with the weird music I listen towere drawn in to the blue cover and sturdy packaging grabbing it andgiving it a close examination. It's refreshing probably for them to seemusic treated as artwork and not as a commodity with UPC symbols andFBI warnings trashing the cover. For me, I'm happy to have theopportunity to listen to Blue Eyes of the March whenever I want as I still can't seem to afford some of the more elusive releases.
Behind all the bells and whistles singing and stretching across every second on this album is a beautiful, childlike song. The duo of Jason Frederick Iselin and Jeffrey Wentworth Stevens wrestle with unconventional sound and pop, folk, and classical sensibilities over the duration of Things Past. The tension that plays out between the odd and the familiar opens up a stream of ornate and soft music both catchy and laden with little treasures just waiting to be unearthed.
Not content to rest their abilities on vintage machinery and expensive software, Iselin and Stevens write luscious, full songs brimming over with thick tones, velvet vocals, and tinkering percussion. All of Things Past is soupy, swirling with acoustic guitar and ascending swathes of orchestral electronics. It sounds absolutely amazing; in part because the band knows how to handle all of their instruments, but also because every song on here is almost instantly satisfying. There are enough hooks and sing-songy parts to make even the most ardent fan of pop music swoon. When the band decides to travel into the more abstract territory of pure electronic composition they pepper their doodling with a radiant shimmer that has a lot in common with Boards of Canada. During these moments the music is minimal and hazy, virtually steaming out of the speakers. They handle their love for the unconventional expertly, mixing it seamlessly with their more structured songs.
Stevens' voice only adds to the softness of the entire record. His singing is youthful, care free and almost always reminiscing. On the title track his voice seems to wash away with the oceanic pulse of the timpani-like drones that wander along in the background. On "Filmstrips Fade" his ascending, climatic vocals add a layer of drama to the dark and swarming music that backs him up. Both the music and the vocalist interact with each other, not satisfied with being a mere accompaniment to the other.
The point is that he is both coherent and instrumental, blending in with the music and standing above it as a vocalist. "Her Kleenex Laughter" is a beautiful example of Stevens' ability to move about within the music. His words move expertly through the guitar's melody, reacting rhythmically to the plodding drums that bring this song down to earth and place its power firmly in the movement of feet and the sway of the body. When George and Caplin get down to it, their music is powerfully physical, but without being forceful.
There's a whole world of compliments and small details I could deal this record, but ultimately the best thing about Things Past is just how lively and gorgeous it is. There is little doubt that it will stay in my rotation for a long time; all of the melodies and sumptuous instrumentals are resilient enough to withstand the most rigorous replay regimen. Not only will the songs stick in my head for days at a time, but the other, more abstract facets of the album compel multiple listens and open up an inviting space that promises complete unpredictability. Things Past is pretty on the surface, but exhibits a stunning profundity as well and for that reason it is a magnificently satisfying listen that absolutely should not be missed.
Embracing true digital designs, Loscil harnesses the internet-as-merchant age and offers a new album for free download called Stases. Though Scott Morgan has never eschewed album leitmotifs, he employs one here which is more nebulous than his previous explorations in the submarine, the geographic, and the thermodynamic.
The common thread of Stases is that most of these tracks have been the fundamental drones for his songs on previous albums for the Kranky label. The song titles still extol the basic dichotomy which Loscil enjoys contemplating: the sky versus the ocean. As you might expect, though, the product here is more restrained, more somber, and heavier. There are very few flourishes on top of these subatomic blueprints.
On previous albums, Loscil accompanied his deep drones with distant and ephemeral melodies, often heard as if they were incubating in another room insulated with bad sound-proofing which let the melodies bleed through the walls just enough to infect the drones. Not so here. Instead, we have states, or fixed positions, or beds. The image of beds is apt not only for the music which used to sit or lie on top of them, but for the obvious narcotic quality to the music. Songs float seamlessly into each other, often fluttering and oscillating at the same frequency so that drone X drifts into drone Y and quite possibly creates some Frankenstein hybrid of drone XY in the listener's ear.
The transition between "Biced" and "Still Upon the Ocean Floor" is sub-aural and indiscernible, for instance. "Resurgence" is all windswept landscape and it's hard to say whether we're talking ocean floor topography or good old-fashioned post-apocalyptic earthen wasteland. What is certain is that there is no hint of anything actually resurging from this song unless it's a stiff breeze and some radiated flora.
The trick with drone artists which I never understood (and still don't) is when to call it a day: when to end a sustained drone or to indulge in further floating. Is the cessation of these songs arbitrary or is there some formula? Loscil's songs are often captivating enough that I have no problem with the more indulgent types like "Micro Hydro," "Windless," and "Stratus," but I also appreciate the succinct beauty of a song like "B15-A," whose four and a half minutes seem almost allotted by the fates themselves.
The truest embodiment of Loscil's motif is "Windless," a song which remains static for nearly nine minutes and whose virtue is based on whether the listener shares the desire for such inertia. There is actually a subtle epiphany within the nine minutes, but patience is the only path to it and the song is not for those who demand love, death, rebirth, sin, beauty, and enlightenment to be contained only within a two-minute Ramones song. The shimmering echo and quiver from the nubilose "Stratus" is a perfect finale for the album. The song lifts us up from the ocean into the ether but doesn't let us forget the source of the clouds on which we are conveyed.
Over the course of four albums and some relentless touring, Mono have proven themselves capable of making some noise. On You Are There, however, the band doesn't burst in with guns blazing, but quietly sneak in through the side door. They haven't succumbed, however, to making an MOR record by a long shot.
Hecq’s latest album is presented with a stark, well-composed black andwhite landscape photograph and that cover image is the perfectintroduction to an album that’s also well-made but lacking identity.
There are no marks on this collection suggestive of product or capital. The music, packaged in a jewelry box with five heavy stock cards, bares no trace of greed or dishonesty. The entire package is, on all counts, a work of art far removed from concerns about ownership or illegal practices. The simple act of opening this package is a joy, a revelation of personality and craftsmanship and the importance they still carry in the world of music.
There’s still something about split seven-inches that carry a buzz of discovery. It’s even better when both acts follow dissimilar visions instead of the label going for the safe option of similar sounding acts.
If it was 20 years earlier, an album like this wouldn't havesurprised anybody by popping up on Paisley Park Records, as it's gotsome sort of fragile white soul that Prince seemed to frequently chase and salivate over,but the fact that it's been released on Temporary Residence, a labelknown more for instrumental guy-rock, is a bit of a surprise. 
Pressed on gold vinyl and packaged in a black sleeve with gold print depicting Medieval interpretations of the apocalypse, Angel Coma looks like it’s going to be heavy. Each side contains a single, long track, one by each band. Both tracks were recorded with the current lineups from the bands; Sunn O))) including vocals via Xasthur and noise provided by John Wiese and Oren Ambarchi; Earth being the Hex lineup of Carlson and Davies plus three.
It's been written that this ground has been walked on before, but such a statement is an ignorant one that fails to acknowledge the finer moments of Chihei Hatakeyama's work. These recordings are anything but common, exhibiting an unusual attention to detail that surpasses the efforts of many like-minded musicians. Hatakeyama's work practically defines how musicality and expressionism can work well together.
Tsunoda is one of my favorite artists working with fieldrecorded media mainly because of the way in which his body of work tests thedefinitions and possibilities of “environmental” sound or music.
Imust confess that Andrew Chalk has been scoring my ritual eveningrelax/unwind "me-time" almost exclusively for the last few weeks. The newest release is exceptionally fantastic, reminding me why peoplepay outrageous amounts for his releases at online auctions.
Behind all the bells and whistles singing and stretching across every second on this album is a beautiful, childlike song. The duo of Jason Frederick Iselin and Jeffrey Wentworth Stevens wrestle with unconventional sound and pop, folk, and classical sensibilities over the duration of Things Past. The tension that plays out between the odd and the familiar opens up a stream of ornate and soft music both catchy and laden with little treasures just waiting to be unearthed.
Embracing true digital designs, Loscil harnesses the internet-as-merchant age and offers a new album for free download called Stases. Though Scott Morgan has never eschewed album leitmotifs, he employs one here which is more nebulous than his previous explorations in the submarine, the geographic, and the thermodynamic.
