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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There is nothing fun or pedestrian about dreams that are uncompromising to the point of reality. The shaking notes that make up “Folding Space” were recorded by two people holed up in their whole respective imaginations of visions of loops, layers and pleading lyrics. It is stubborn but not ugly, nearly one hour of music set in studios buried by blizzards of the American Great Lakes region.
Cages is Nola Ranallo and David Bailey. They practiced, moved apart, relayed tapes through the mail, revised the entire damned thing, and then rejoined to capture every last seizure on this record. They sought sounds from the same dreams that give fools belief and colorfully punctuate the nights of the sanest. It’s sometimes pretty (“Lost Lipids”) or crushing (“Psalm to Mother”; “If It Flies, It Dies”) or left hanged in the speakers (“Dying”). There are elements of dreamy ether and discomfort rather than the easy choruses and catchphrases of the most collected and consumed art form. And, then, you’ll find a song radiating another thing entirely. (sweetness? The Devil’s hand?)
Live, the duo transfers their forged and found music into a very personal presentation that soars above the casually talking show-goers, the poor man’s jazz bands, and the art house showboats. Patrons and fellow musicians are pulled in; sounds are pushed out but never apart.
“Folding Space” is a foot to the honest and hard road, which can quickly cut away the uncurious and reward the rest like the tapes listened to repeatedly in the fevers of your youth. Please mull and judge, and add to the tops or bottoms of the lists you think necessary. And know the visions backing this elaborate music were recorded and are performed for a primary reason: to exist freely.
Justin Kern (Sept. 24, 2009 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, U.S.A.)
High quality artwork with bronze print. For fans of Swans, Björkk, Portishead, PJ Harvey
Tracks: 1. Dying | 2. If It Flies, It Dies | 3. Cavern | 4. Dream Dip Sailor | 5. Psalm To Mother | 6. Lost Lipids | 7. Prisons Of Light | 8. The New Forever | 8. Approaching White Light
\n This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it | www.coldspring.co.uk
The latest installment in this duo’s quest to pervert well known forms of music may be its most difficult album yet. On the surface it seems the most conventional: a live performance of Anders Bryngelsson on drums and Mattin on guitar with the assistance of some backing tapes, but the way in which these two interpret the blues is anything but.  It is one of those records that is rather unpleasant to listen to, and that is exactly the point of it.
First of all, Regler's interpretation of the blues is a very loose one, but is still faithful to the basic nature of the style.Latching on to the genre’s cyclic repetition, the main musical portion of the album is a plodding, repetitious blast of distorted guitars, primitive rhythms, and the occasional guttural growl.The resemblance to Swans’ earliest recordings is undeniable, and fitting, given that Michael Gira himself has discussed numerous times the influence of Howlin’ Wolf and the like had on his band.
The second blues connection is, however, more thematic.This record was captured live just over a year ago (September 23, 2016, in Berlin), foreshadowing the political turmoil that was soon to plague Western Civilization as we know it(hence the title).Accompanying the music are multiple recordings from the news, European and American, and even when the language may not be familiar to these ears, the anger and frustration conveyed is universal.
Over the doomy throb the two create with their instruments, the aftermaths of terrorist attacks, police shootings in the United States, and pre-Brexit, pre-Trump protests are all captured here.Besides just chanting, yelling, and speaking, there is more than a few instances of emergency sirens, police radios, and gunfire to really ramp up the tension and hammer home the unsettling nature of the music.At times (and surely intentionally), the tapes are distinctly louder than the music being played, making the intent painfully apparent.
All the while, Bryngelsson and Mattin pound away, a dull throb that shifts and evolves as the performance goes on, but never loses focus.On the second half the rhythm shifts up a bit, and the guitar alternates from low end sludge to shrill, metallic and feedback-laden.Towards the end of the performance, the playing gets even more unhinged, fitting the tension that builds to a head, before collapsing on loops of sirens and an abrupt conclusion.
Regler #9 is admittedly a very unpleasant record.Throughout I was definitely feeling the tension that was constructed as the performance went on, both from the tapes played and the music itself.At this point though I feel as if performance has an even stronger impact, since those worst-case scenarios that are channeled via the protests and television news broadcasts have largely come to pass.It is rhythmic, repetitive, and depressing as all hell, and I cannot think of a more fitting interpretation of the blues on such a macro scale.
This six disc box set is a nice time capsule for the extremely prolific Drumm's work from 2013 through 2016. Which means, of course, by now this stuff is old hat and there is likely to be another 15 or so albums worth of material available to download at this point. However, Drumm's work is something to be digested slowly and methodically, and with Giuseppe Ielasi ensuring a top quality remastering, it makes for an essential collection of work that is fitting for both new listeners and those who have been there for a while.
Elapsed Time is clearly a compilation, and one that culls from a multitude of digital only and extremely limited releases.This also means that the approach Drumm uses for these works can differ greatly, from pure sine waves to computers to simply "found" recordings, though oddly enough none of the guitar he was initially recognized for.Even pulled from these widely varying sources, however, there is a sense of cohesion to these recordings, even if they are unified only by Drumm's adept hand at composition and sound design.
The three pieces that make up much of "Equinox" (Disc Five) represent Drumm at his most minimal.In this case what was used to make the recordings is unclear, but the result is a very sparse series of tones, mostly frozen on the first segment but more spacious and evolving on the second and third.The tones rise and fall in pitch slowly, shifting around and conveying some dynamism as basic as they are.For "The Sea Wins" he utilizes just sine, sawtooth, and pulse waves, but from that he constructs some beautiful, pure organ-like tones that grow and evolve as the piece develops for a bit over a half hour.
At other times, Drumm's focus shifts towards the more abrasive, distorted end of his art.The five segments of "Tannenbaum" (a limited double cassette issued with the CD of the same name) begins with the same sort of tonal purity, but with an unquestionable bleakness that just gets worse as it goes on.Eventually a buzzing synthesizer is expanded to a full on noise abyss, mixed with a bassy hum that feels like an early MB record stripped to its barest, darkest essentials.Much of "February" is quiet, but leans very heavy on the lower end, preventing it from fading too much into the background.It is sparse, but still commands attention via the rumbling electronics."Bolero Muter" is another harsher work within this set.Via computer spectral processing, there is a buzzing, distorted sheen to the electronics that eventually builds to a full on wall of metallic noise before slowly mellowing back out.
Disc 3’s "Earrach (Part 1)" is one of the standout pieces here if for nothing else its sheer oddness compared to the rest of the set.Consisting entirely of randomly selected pre-recorded tapes, Drumm mangles them as they play, capturing the sputtering motors and incidental noises that are inevitable with such a performance.It has a more traditionalist "noise" feel to it, and is appropriately dense and jerky in sound and structure.The set ends with the two part "The Whole House", created simply from a cheap hand-held tape cassette from Radio Shack and capturing the ambience in Drumm's home.What begins as a sparse buzz eventually evolves into insect-like chirps and mangled tapes, building to a jet engine-like roar.I am not sure exactly what goes on in Drumm’s house, but this makes it sound absolutely terrifying.
There is a lot to take in throughout Elapsed Time.With six packed CDs, it amounts to nearly seven hours of Kevin Drumm experimentation.As an artist who at times is a bit difficult (to say the least), it can be a challenge to absorb fully.However, the vast array of styles and works to be had here makes it an engaging challenge, one that can differ widely from disc to disc, but never lacks the cohesion and touch of a master craftsman and composer working at the top of his game.
As loathe as I am of the term, perhaps this is conceptually the best approach to the "mashup" in recent memory. Rather than just slapping together two disparate songs with the same BPM for the sake of being "hip", Petit (a member of Strings of Consciousness and head of the BiP_HOp label) has instead created a soundtrack synthesizing the classic Lynch film with Shinya Tsukamoto’s esoteric cyberpunk nightmare, resulting in a cacophonous, disorienting mess of sound.
This is one of those faux soundtracks that doesn’t require any familiarity with the conceptual source material to enjoy, but the characteristics of both films shine through in the composition. The opening "Salaryman’s Dream" jumps in immediately with mangled and flanged string tones, rustling static and the occasional random percussive crash. Over the clicks and deep, pulsing bass assaults, the electronic wreckage begins to resemble industrial presses crushing metal garbage into cubes, and one can almost visualize the metal fetishist from Tetsuo looking on in a sexual frenzy. Swirling harsh alien ambience envelopes almost everything, while mutant horns sound like lost radio transmissions from Sun Ra still traveling through space. The long piece closes on banging, almost traditional industrial rhythms.
The second track, "In Tokyo Henry Spencer is Fine" brings in more of Petit’s vinyl fetish, layering complex surface noise and sped up guitar spinning off vinyl. The collage of noise is more restrained here, but still menacing, with blown out feedback tones blasting through. The sound oscillates between noise and softer sounds, but the overall sound is alienating industrial chaos. Petit throws in the a bit of the FM3 Buddha Machine as well, but under heavy treatment and processing.
The closing track, "Lady in the Radiator Meets the Fetishist" again lays on the surface noise heavily, while adding stuttering vinyl scrapes and rising guitar feedback, invoking a sense of lurking dread that gets more and more intense. The track moves at a limp, like a slow moving lava flow destroying everything in its path. Through the flaming muck I can hear more brain damaged jazz horns with tremolo-ed fragments of techno synth, and the track becomes an unending battle between jazz, techno, and pure noise.
Even without using any of the original source material, Petit combines the schizophrenic noise chaos of Eraserhead with the abstract industrial dystopia of Tetsuo, and the combination works out very well. The symbolism is wonderful here, though as a listening experience, it’s almost too intense. The sense of dread and menace never relents, there are no quiet or introspective movements, the darkness just continues on and on. Perhaps that’s the point, though!
This is Psychic Circle's oddest compilation yet. Cult actors and UK game show hosts mingle with ethnic novelties, opera singers, prostitutes and unknowns. The liner notes acknowledge some utter crap and complete nonsense within: welcome relief from talk of forgotten gems and legends which has set me up for disappointment with several of PC’s previous efforts.
Psychic Circle
The title Music for Mentalists offers up the premise that only a mind reader could guess what record executives were thinking when they released these efforts. But a cursory glance at the songs which actually made the UK pop charts over the last forty years reveals that great singles were rare and many pitiful efforts sold significantly. So it makes sense that someone tried to cash-in by selling a pop song to those television viewers charmed by David McCallum as the cool U.N.C.L.E. agent Ilya Kuryakin and David Carradine as the mystical and reluctant martial arts wanderer in Kung Fu. And given the horrific chart violations by (so-called) easy-listening band-leader James Last, it might have been thought reasonable to have Al Hirt and Joe Loss take their respective stabs at the TV theme tunes from The Monkees and Steptoe and Son (remade in the US as Sanford and Son). It doesn’t even seem too long a shot to have let boozy newsreader Reggie Bosenquet go disco or have Jim Bowen, host of cult Sunday afternoon game-show Bullseye (part general knowledge part darts match) record a suitably down-to-earth “rap.” Bowen’s piece is actually a hilarious self-depreciating culture shocker, mocking his hair loss, painful jokes, poor singing voice, dead-ordinary contestants and on-screen mess-ups.
Compiler Mick Dillingham has done sterling work in locating Linda Jardim’s “Energy in Northampton,” a laughable song on the topic of aliens in a damaged spacecraft being drawn to the middle-England town by its go-ahead energy. Funded by the Northampton Development Corporation I am pretty certain this overblown oddity had at least one spin on the truly legendary John Peel radio show. Equally, “Tina’s Song” by Tina Harvey is a brief but genuinely bizarre foray through such mind-numbing topics as living in Slough and being a Gemini. Harvey deconstructs the song out of existence using a deceptive voice that is half sung and half spoken; wry and understated enough to have caught Peel's ear, I think.
There are also promo-ditties by various businesses. Of those, Swingin’ Thom’s “The Weakling in Thom McCann Shoes” is marginally more amusing than John Collier’s “Saturday Night Suit” and Cadbury’s Singers’ “Come into the Warm” beats The Barclay Supergroup’s “Barclay Girls" hands down. Maybe that’s because Barclay’s Bank was notorious for their investment in apartheid-era South Africa, but also as chocolate is obviously better than banking. Hylda Baker was 73 years old when she recorded “Substitute” and it is worth hearing, once. The wild take on Lee Hazlewood’s “Boots” by Balsara & His Singing Sitars, though, is something to which I expect to return more often.
Unfortunately, Max Bygraves shows up, and there’s a dreadful version of “The Music Man” by Rusty Goffe, who happens to be a dwarf. However, a brief speech by Aldous Huxley’s daughter provides a nice introduction and Xaviera Hollander (author of The Happy Hooker) is also included, with “My Attitude to Sex” a suitably raunchy effort. Actor Michael Elphick’s “Gotcha” is a creepier listen. Taken literally it might be a paean to rape and imprisonment but, more likely, is a poorly written, disturbingly chauvinist take on relationships. Elsewhere, depths of taste and dignity are well and truly plumbed: “Song for Sefton” (dedicated to the household cavalry horse who survived an IRA bomb) is pathetic, devoid of musical interest and even lacking in sentimentality. Even worse than "Sefton" is an appalling Yiddish version of “Rock Around The Clock.”
If this is the most interesting Psychic Circle compilation yet that’s because the ones I’ve heard so far have been raw and spirited but also uneven and quite repetitive. A thread of the current zeitgeist seems to be that any music ever released should be repackaged under a snappy title and be written up as containing either a forgotten gem or two, or an overlooked legend. Sadly, that is just not true. Yet Music for Mentalists does have the very worthwhile track by Linda Jardim and Tina Harvey's brilliant effort and if you feel you simply must learn how to pronounce the Welsh village Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, then look no further.
Crow Eye Hint is a drone record. One track which uses the noise and resonance of a piano when sustain pedal is relaesed and depressed.5 minutes into this there is a few second burst of two tone riff, than the piano innards soundscape returns. After reaching a climax it gives way a single note on the same instrument develops through repetition into a pleasant drone inviting strings. At a precise moment tonality of texture lifts by a semitone and develops further. From depths a permutation of the original theme returns adding an extra element of forward propulsion until a natural conclusion is reached after 54 minutes and a few seconds.
In 2006, the rather enigmatic and aberrant Mudboy recorded a live session for the Dutch radio station VPRO, but it took three years for it to finally see release. Upon hearing this odd and uneven set, that delay seems quite justified- there are certainly some moments of sublime beauty and weirdness captured here, but they are few and far between. This probably should have stayed in the vault.
Mudboy is an organist and installation artist based in Providence, RI. As there are not many working organists in the experimental music underground, he pretty much had his own niche claimed the moment that he started releasing music roughly a decade ago. However, the uniqueness of Mudboy’s aesthetic goes far beyond his anachronistic choice of instruments and permeates absolutely everything he is involved in: his performances, his installations, his general vision, his sounds, and his cover art are all pretty uniformly bizarre and unique. In this case, he uncharacteristically did not seem to have had a hand in the album art, but Staalplaat’s three-panel wooden case is quite nice in an elegantly minimal way regardless.
There are five distinct songs collected here, lasting for roughly half an hour. I do not have a comprehensive command of Mudboy’s complete oeuvre of limited edition vinyl, cassettes, and CD-Rs, but it seems almost certain that the session was totally improvised on the spot with a minimum amount of both preparation and gear. That is the only logical explanation for the opener “Ntro,” which completely falls flat and goes nowhere for over four minutes (it basically approximates a muttering goblin repeatedly sounding a tuning fork). The following piece (“B.O.G.”) initially yields similar dire promise, as it sounds like that same rasping, gibbering goblin has now begun fiddling with the presets on a cheap Casio.
Unexpectedly, however, “B.O.G.” quickly evolves into the session’s clear highlight, as Mudboy plunges into an utterly mesmerizing organ solo atop the cheesy, carnivalesque vamp. I don’t know quite what he did to his organ to get it to sound like it does (he is an avid circuit-bender and instrument modifier), but I have never heard anything quite like it. The notes seem to be almost solid, like they are hanging in the air and slowly dripping to the ground. Sadly, that snatch of heaven is all too ephemeral and the remaining three pieces (while not bad) fail to recapture much magic.
The best of the remainder is probably “Beebbub,” a buzzing and throbbing noise piece built upon treated field recordings of bees. The aural apiary is gradually populated by a barrage of deranged and incomprehensible speech snippets that echo and bounce all over the place, evoking the feeling of a disturbingly psychedelic funhouse. The other two songs are fairly one-dimensional and unmemorable: “Osandways” is essentially a prog-rock organ solo without a surrounding song, while the accordian-esque “Shantysea” resembles one of Terry Riley’s more annoying and dated-sounding excursions.
The central problem with this session is that each piece seems to consist of one idea that is flogged away at until Mudboy loses interest in it. Some of the ideas are good and some aren’t, but there is very little in the way of progression in either case. Essentially he creates a loop, makes some sounds over it for a few minutes, then stops. While I realize that may be a somewhat inherent problem with one-man live improv, it doesn't make for a compelling listen when divorced from the performance itself. Obviously, there is a lot to like here from a pure sound perspective, but those sounds get dull quickly when there is little structure and movement surrounding them. This is definitely not Mudboy’s finest moment, but thankfully it is also not a particularly representative one.
This is a fun album. It takes a high art concept and makes it playful. Albums that are made up purely of percussion are few and far between as it is, and the fact that the instrument in question here is the Mid-Hudson Bridge makes this a rare bird indeed.
On the first listen I was surprised by the cleanliness of the sound. It wasn’t as distorted or as jarring as I had expected. Although the source material was recorded in the field, to say that it is made up of field recording of a percussionist on a bridge would give the wrong impression. I originally thought that songs were somehow performed and captured live, but for a single person to play all the different sounds in real time would have been an impossible feat. The last track though features the composer talking about how the project was executed. Listening to him talk sounded a bit like being on a field trip or a tour—in fact the packaging of the CD looks like something found in a museum gift shop—but was nonetheless informative of his process. All the sounds except for one were recorded using a contact microphone. Every available surface was used from signs, to metal grates, to the thick and tightly wound steel of the suspension cables. The only sounds recorded with an open air mic were of small round objects like BBs and air gun pellets (among other things) poured down one of the bridges shafts, transforming it into a gigantic rain stick. After all of the source material was recorded it was assembled in the studio. Like a jigsaw puzzle the pieces fit together perfectly.
The notes derived from the bridge may not have the widest of range, but the rhythms bewilder with their compact variability. This is high energy music. Even as the tempos vary, speeding up and slowing down, deep thunderous pulses continue to pound into the brain. “The River That Flows Both Ways” begins with a low rumble in the background, and the sound of banging hammers. Overlaid atop is a melody that could have been played on a kalimba but it is not. “Rivet Gun” is Bertolozzi’s answer to slick electronic dance club music. Rapid fire machine gun pulses take the place of the hi-hat, and cacophonous smashes of iron girders stand in for the 4-to-the-floor bass kicks. There are even staggered thrums and throbs that create a time stretch illusion harkening back to the hey-day of drum ‘n bass songs where every other phrase contained a time stretched beat. “Dark Interlude” is a muted piece mainly in the lower register without sharp noises or the reverb laden clanging that features on other songs. Without keeping a steady beat, it reminds me of a broken metronome or a clock whose gears have shifted into keeping an alternate time, a freeform experiment in non-linear drumming.
The composition of “Bridge Music” has also culminated in an installation located at the FDR Mid-Hudson Bridge itself. It consists of two listening stations where pedestrians crossing the bridge can listen to any of the eleven tracks featured on this CD. The other element is a continuous stereo broadcast of the music on 87.9 FM available in the two parks that abut the bridge, Waryas Park in Poughkeepsie, and Johnson-lorio Park in Highland.
This latest Folklore Tapes collection is a perfect illustration of why they are possibly the most unique and fascinating label around, assembling 31 different artists to create free-form sound art based upon their research into a specific plant. I certainly like the concept and appreciate the depth and breadth of their commitment to it (there is accompanying literature, a film, and a pack of seeds), yet none of that would matter all that much if the music was underwhelming. As it happens, the music is absolutely wonderful, as the many brief and varied vignettes form a wonderfully surreal and kaleidoscopic whole. A few of the participants were familiar to me beforehand (Dean McPhee, Bridgett Hayden), but most were not and nearly every single one brings something delightfully bizarre, hallucinatory, or enigmatically esoteric to the table.
My sole critique is simply that extreme brevity suits some artists better than others, so an artist like Dean McPhee (who specializes in slowly shifting extended pieces) is not able to play to his strengths.Necessity is the mother of invention, of course, but there are certainly some pieces that feel like mere glimpses of something more substantial rather than a self-contained and discrete soundworld.Lamenting how an individual piece in a perfect mosaic could have stood out more effectively completely misses the point though: Folklore Tapes have crafted quite a singular labor of love here and it is an absolutely beautiful thing to behold.As a compilation, The Folklore of Plants is certainly a deeply inspired collection of divergent and compelling artists, but it also offers something far more transcendent than that, stripping away all the noise and empty distraction of the modern world to reveal a window into something considerably more timeless, haunting, and ineffable.
Coldkill is the duo of Rexx Arkana (FGFC820) and Eric Eldredge (Interface), and was created as an attempt to get back to the roots of EBM and 1980s industrial music, an era from which both musicians have drawn influence throughout their careers]. With the use of vintage gear and a more minimalistic aesthetic when it comes to construction and dynamics in these songs, they do an exemplary job of being forward thinking, yet still clearly acknowledging their past.
Arkana especially has been one of the unsung heroes of the genre.Working as a promoter and DJ since the 1980s, as well as helming EBM supergroup Bruderschaft, his contributions to both the industrial scene and its antecedents has largely been overlooked.Which is a significant oversight, because his dedication to the style and his skills in creating it shine through distinctly on Distance by Design."In Here" makes this abundantly clear, with his intentionally flat, disconnected vocals capturing the early days of synthpop and new wave perfectly, as a steady 4/4 beat and tight sequenced layers dominate the song.
"Black or White" is another standout from the first moments of metallic synth and analog bassline.The additional keyboards added and cheap drum machine also go a long way in capturing the 1980s vibe, as do the vocals.Here Arkana's approach is just the right amount of off-kilter in delivery, sounding not unlike Al Jourgensen during Ministry's transitional period from With Sympathy to Twitch (which is, as far as I am concerned, far and away their best era).The chintzy drum machine reappears on "Fables", but here in a slower, more depressive context overall.With strong melodies and nice outbursts in the chorus, there is a great shifting dynamic throughout.
For other songs here, the duo bring out some more modern sounds, while still keeping the nostalgic elements fully in play."Angel Unaware" is a mix of classic stiff beats and modern sounding synth melodies, but rounded out nicely with a bit of undeniable FM synthesis sounding bass towards the end of the song."I'm Yours" again has more of a contemporary sounding synth lead throughout, but the mix and production is sparse enough to capture that vintage feel the duo embraces throughout.
Some of the other standout moments for me were where Arkana and Eldridge seemed to step furthest out of their comfort zone."Memories" is all robotic voice samples and showcases traditional pop sensibilities, made all the more compelling by a Kraftwerky chorus that is extremely memorable."Leave It All Behind", on the other hand, is more of a percussive beast, with programmed drums and percussive synth leading the way.But around this is some Latin/House tinged layers and even a bit of piano at the end, culminating in some very disparate, yet somehow complementary styles.
Two remixes also appear on the album, with stalwarts Assemblage 23 reworking "In Here" and Covenant taking on "I'm Yours".Thankfully, the approach to remixing is thematically consistent with the rest of the record, because unlike many of today’s modern remixes, both retain most of their original elements.They are reshaped to be somewhat more club friendly, but neither are significant departures from the source material.Assemblage 23’s version of "In Here" is particularly the standout, with the chorus expanded even more and the addition of orchestra hit samples really driving the vintage feel home.
As I have stated in other reviews, I tend to not follow the current industrial scene too closely, preferring some of the genre's outliers that are making music more consistent with what I grew up listening.Which is exactly why Distance by Design worked so well for me, since Rexx Arkana and Eric Eldredge not only channel those early days so well via Coldkill, but also knowing Arkana was an actual participant in the genre during its earliest days.The album stands strongly on its own, but having that genuine old school credibility is a nice added bonus as well.
Alex Keller and Sean O'Neill may have been collaborators since 2015, but Kruos is actually their debut release. That relative youth does not translate to lack of experience on the album, however, as the duo’s work is a complex, nuanced work of sound art, conjured up from some rather rudimentary sources, largely just field recordings and a telephone test synthesizer. It is a bit of a difficult, unsettling experience at times, but a strong one nonetheless.
The two halves of Kruos complement each other well, with each side representing some drastically different approaches to sound.The first half begins rather simply with a big, looming bassy analog tone that slowly oscillates in pitch.Sputtering at times, it functions well as an underlying foundation for the processed field recordings to be constructed upon.The duo introduces these rather coarsely via recordings of violent, heavy reverberated knocking.There is a rhythmic quality to it, but is anything but conventional.Instead, it functions as a jarring, menacing addition to initially restrained sounds.
Keller and O'Neill are not just working with pure field recordings, of course, so after some of those loud outbursts, a bit of delay scatters the sound nicely, giving an additional sense of depth.Beyond that, some weird creaking textures and shifting of pitches balance out the open space well, bringing a nicely foreboding quality to the composition.The tones get even more varied and pushed to the forefront, building up to a dramatic, yet abrupt ending.
The second half of the record is the more subtle side to Kruos.The low frequency synthesizer hum reappears, but here blended with an ambience somewhere between white noise generator and air conditioning system.From here slow, sparse pulsations appear, representing another misuse of that telephone test equipment the duo utilizes.Sputtering, rumbling electronics appear, giving a bit more tension to the otherwise peaceful surroundings, but still staying more restrained and less confrontational than the first half.
Eventually these indistinct and mostly unidentifiable field recordings and found sounds are presented in a less treated way, consisting of far off birds and insects that again capture the vastness of nature very well.Towards the conclusion, however, the duo decides to get weird again.There is a reappearance of some of the knocking/clattering type sounds that were heard throughout the first part, building to a more disorienting, chaotic arc before coming to another abrupt conclusion.
Alex Keller and Sean O'Neill may not have used a significant amount of instrumentation to construct Kruos, but they achieve a great deal with what they have.It is difficult and challenging at times, and there is not much to grab on to as far as conventional rhythm or melody, but it excels in abstraction.In many cases the result is far removed from the source material, but the environment the two create on here is just as fascinating as any natural one that could be captured.