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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After six years of being just a title on the Beta-lactam Ring Records website, I was losing hope of this album ever materialising. There was the danger that if it did ever arrive on earth that it would be an anticlimax but thankfully I can report that it is one of the best realised Nurse With Wound albums yet. Steven Stapleton and his crew, including first mate Andrew Liles and chief of engineering Colin Potter, voyage through the outer limits of The Outer Limits and Sun Ra's most cosmic offerings. Influenced by those haunting electronic soundtracks of vintage Sci-Fi, Stapleton guides the U.S.S. Nurse With Wound through the furthest regions of the universe, documenting spatial anomalies and creating some of the best sounds audible in the Milky Way.
The incidental sounds that permeate B-movies and those weird LPs of electronic music that attempt to evoke the sounds of the cosmos are the main points of reference for Space Music. Beginning with what sounds like asteroids hammering off each other, it promises to be an exciting and violent piece but after these few minutes of activity, the calm of an infinite void sets in and Space Music proves to be a predominantly low key piece that lends itself beautifully to deep (space) listening. The kind of sounds that I imagine the scientists at CERN long to hear coming from their machines emanate from the stereo like some interdimensional transmission in a format that we have no idea how to pick up with our primitive technology. Cold, metallic tones ring out into the vast infinitum of space like God’s tinnitus from the big bang. This is quantum music for quantum people and I need an equation to fully describe it.
Leaving behind the cosmic analogies and metaphors, Space Music is more than just another genre work by Nurse With Wound. This album sits perfectly well alongside other “ambient” works in Stapleton’s repertoire like Soliloquy for Lilith and Salt Marie Celeste but just as there is no tangible link between those two albums, Space Music also sits out there on its own. I find both those older albums to be difficult listens in that I find them incredibly unnerving (although that is part of their appeal for me) yet in the case of Space Music I feel like the Star-Child from 2001: A Space Odyssey; the embryonic brine of the womb replaced with a calming, god-like light. The liner notes mention that subliminal effects are used throughout the album and I wonder if these have anything to do with its strangely calming ambience.
Listening to this, it makes me wonder why people point radio receivers at the heavens when such unearthly sounds are being generated on earth. Space Music is, along with Jack Dangers’ Music for Planetarium, almost unique in being cosmic music that truly sounds like it is from the gaps between the stars. All those years of tinkering have paid off and Space Music caps off both a productive year and decade in the ongoing adventures of Nurse With Wound. Perhaps the next ten years will bring us that hip hop album we always wanted.
Celebrating 30 years of Nurse With Wound and inspired by Faust's 49p album, The Faust Tapes, categories strain, crack and sometimes break under their burden as Steven Stapleton and company step out of the space provided to create a best of compilation like no other. Featuring loads of familiar music but all in a totally new context this “party mix” is great fun; surprise juxtapositions of material and trying to identify the sources of the various sounds make for a nerdy but highly enjoyable hour of listening.
At only 99p (check your local currency), Paranoia in Hi-Fi is great value for money as long as you can find a shop that stocks it. Intended to encourage Internet shoppers to leave their laptops, venture out into the fresh air down and visit their local independent record store; things have not quite gone to plan with many shops having (or saying they are having) difficulties getting it in. Larger chain stores seem to have had more success stocking it which kind of undermines the sentiments behind this release. Although the appearance of Paranoia in Hi-Fi on auction sites for inflated prices is particularly distasteful; give some people an inch and they take a mile.
Paranoia in Hi-Fi is a good studio approximation of the Nurse With Wound live experience but here the focus is more on the fun side of the music than the intense experiences of the concert hall. Those familiar with Matt Waldron’s Possible Nurse Mix for Sun and Moon Ensemble should know what to expect; instantly recognizable bits of Nurse sounds re-arranged and massaged into a new piece by Stapleton and Andrew Liles. Stapleton’s entire back catalogue has been trawled to make Paranoia in Hi-Fi, taking in the obvious “greatest hits” like “Rock’n Roll Station,” “Two Mock Projections,” and “Salt Marie Celeste.” “Two Shaves and a Shine” makes an appearance but it is the awful disco remix from the 2006 reissue of An Awkward Pause. Yet as bad as that remix seemed plonked in between the other fantastic bonus tracks on that album, on Paranoia in Hi-Fi it works far better. I still do not particularly like it but it at least brought a smile to my face this time.
There is some new material peppered throughout the album but it is unclear whether these are going to be unique to Paranoia in Hi-Fi or are works in progress for forthcoming releases. Each new bit is tantalising in that they seem to be completely at odds with a lot of the recent NWW releases. There is some reference to the lounge feel of Huffin’ Rag Blues but there is also some great guitar bits including one that mutates the main riff from Black Sabbath’s eponymous song and transplants it into the body of a Max Ernst painting. Later what sounds like a strange marimba and bell combo play a disjointed rhythm as strange toy animals sounds groan in the foreground. If these are sneak previews for next year’s releases then it sounds like another good year for NWW fans.
As fun as Paranoia in Hi-Fi is, you get what you pay for. If this was a normally priced CD I would definitely be coming away more than a little disappointed (although not as disappointed as I was with the similarly minded but badly executed Great in the Small by Current 93). However, for 99p I am getting a lot more bang for my buck and the sentiments behind this release are genuine; Nurse With Wound was borne out of record stores as like-minded friends scoured the racks for oddities so it is nice to see them try and get people back into the shops to discover new things by chance instead of the dreary quotidian experience of online ordering (or worse, downloading). Stapleton and Liles’ plan worked for me as it took me three cities to track my copy down (despite the local store ordering it ages ago for me, still waiting on the order to come in) but I found a lot of cool little releases that I would have missed had I not been on the hunt.
The latest from Leyland James Kirby is not only his best album to date, it's one of the best ambient albums I've heard in the past decade. It is both the culmination of Kirby's past efforts as The Stranger and The Caretaker and also his point of departure from those projects. Sadly, the Future Is No Longer What It Was takes everything I love about Kirby's previous work and infuses it with a greater diversity of ideas, moods, and colors.
Musically, Sadly is pretty mind-blowing stuff. On the one hand, much of it is familiar in one way or another. We've heard Kirby playing with these sounds his entire career, whether he was goofing off or producing truly haunting audio. On the other hand, Sadly features honest-to-God songs and comes across as a total refinement of everything he has done in the past. What distinguishes this album from Kirby's past efforts isn't necessarily his technique, but his method. Everything on each of the three albums belongs to James. He played the piano and synthesizers the make up most of the record and he is, of course, repsonsible for all the digital effects, production, and editing. Only the artwork (which is superb, by the way) is the product of someone else's labor. By utilizing his own performances instead of relying on samples, Leyland James Kirby had the chance to express himself before chopping things up and processing them.
The result is undoubtedly his best record. In addition to producing bigger and more obvious melodies, James pulls finer textures and a better sense of continuity from his own performances than he ever has from someone else's. I also think that this change in method afforded James the chance to sound a little less dark and dense than he usually does. Sadly isn't necessarily a happy record, but there are points where it explodes with joy and optimism. He retains some of the haunting qualities I associate more with The Stranger or The Caretaker, but he balances those out with something from the happier side of existence. With the ability to create sounds where he needed them, James went all out and crafted his brightest and most enjoyable record to date, even with the dread and gloom that permeate its darker and more uncertain corners.
Waiting beneath the fuzz and drone of these songs is a conceptual scheme that Kirby has elaborated upon in various interviews. I've been wrestling with this album since before it was released, in part because it is such an ambitious and demanding recording, but also because James has put so much of himself and so many of his thoughts into the music. It is impossible to talk about these aspects of Sadly... without first mentioning just how massive an undertaking it is: three double-LPs of new music from the man responsible for V/Vm, The Stranger, and The Caretaker. But, I do not want to spend too much time dwelling on the album's self-indulgent qualities. I think they're obvious enough to everyone and, what's more, Mr. Kirby has tested such deep waters in the past. We are, after all, talking about the same person responsible for the 6-CD Theoretically Pure Anterograde Amnesia boxset. That project stretched its audience's memory and patience to Béla Tarr-ian limits with a never-ending parade of foggy melodies, distorted dream sounds, and fractured distortion. I've always thought it was designed to replicate the same amnesia for which it is named, so that no definite memories of the album could ever form. On Sadly, however, Leyland James Kirby wants his audience to remember.
Along with the album title, many of the songs refer to memory in a general way, and more than a few suggest that Kirby is interested in sharing his own personal memories and thoughts with everyone. Interviews bear this suggestion out, but memories aren't Sadly's only theme. Fear and hope are two more and so is uncertainty about the digital era and all that it has given us. In some ways, Sadly is the perfect album for 2009. All three records can be put on an MP3 player and listened to seamlessly, which is to say that Sadly is a perfect example of how digital media can come to our musical rescue. While there will never be a good replacement for handling a piece of wax, a project of this size and kind (i.e., ambient music) benefits from non-stop playback and lack of surface noise, something a record player will never be able to give us. At the same time, James has also chosen to release this project in the form of three double-LP albums. I think everyone can agree that setting an MP3 player to random and enjoying a few tunes on the way to work will never replace sitting in front of a record player, handling the sleeves, and reading the liner notes (not to mention the better audio quality home systems provide). When handling a record, rarely can it be mistaken for just another piece of music or another thoughtlessly acquired hour of sound.
So, with James' distrust and distaste for modern media made apparent in his interviews, it was odd to see a digital release available at all. But, Mr. Kirby is clearly confident about his work and what it means. Sadly's size and scope force the on-the-go MP3-loving train hopper (me) to slow down, listen carefully, and to treat the digital file like something more than a commodity. In a way, it wouldn't be going too far to call Sadly one of the first truly modern albums of the digital era. While casting a leery glance at the recent past, James also sets his sights firmly on what the future might bring. But, instead of dystopian chaos and emotionless, machine-like repetition, Kirby offers up something more hopeful and breath-taking. The soulless commoditization of music isn't the only possible outcome of the digital revolution; there are other more positive possibilities. Learning how to live with these new mediums is obviously something Kirby is mulling over. These are confusing times, he might say, but the world is what we make it.
Richard Skelton has been quietly amassing a small but deeply devoted following for the last five years with a series of beautifully packaged self-released albums under a constantly changing series of guises (the best-known of which being A Broken Consort). With this, his second release for Type Records under his own name, he seems poised for much wider recognition as one of the most vital and singular artists in underground music. This is one of the most beautiful and essential albums that I’ve heard this year.
Richard Skelton occupies an unusual stylistic niche somewhere between classical music and drone, as Landings seems to be largely the product of unspecified bowed instruments and a looping pedal. I suppose Marielle Jakobsons’ Darwinsbitch project is something of a kindred spirit, though Skelton’s work is meditative and profoundly melancholy, whereas Jakobsons’ Ore is intense and harrowing. However, they both conjure almost supernaturally powerful, haunting, and enigmatic aural monoliths from mere wood, steel, and horsehair. Both are lucky that the witchcraze is a distant memory.
For the most part, Landings is built around achingly beautiful and impossibly sad beds of strings. That is not especially novel on its own, but no one else that I’ve heard has done it in such a visceral and vibrant way. The magic lies in the details, such as the squirming, shuddering bow-work in “Noon River Woods.” These 12 songs are all superficially gentle and hypnotically repeating, but they invariably crackle with creaks, bow scrapes, harmonics, echoes, moans, chirping birds, and all sorts of other evocative elements that are tangental to the central themes. The songs themselves, while gorgeous, seem to be merely a foundation for the mesmerizing, shimmering nimbus around them.
The album has a very timeless and organic feeling to it, which is likely a direct consequence of Skelton’s unusual recording techniques. The bulk of the material included here was improvised live over a period of four years in various remote locations throughout Northern England: on hillsides, along streams and rivers, in deep forests, etc. Moors, however, seem to be a particular favorite haunt: the now sold-out version of the album released through Skelton’s Sustain-Release imprint included a book of his writings on the West Pennine Moors of Lancashire, a place that has been of considerable import and inspiration for Richard in the past. Thankfully, he is not entirely a process purist, as the raw beauty captured during those excursions is later sculpted and augmented with overdubbing. As a result, many of the pieces manage to sound simultaneously alive and flowing, yet deliberate and artfully layered (no easy feat). At times I think the production might be a little cleaner than it should be, but I suspect that may be a necessity for capturing every single little nuance, which is an essential element of Skelton’s work.
Landings definitely sounds like the sort of album that takes four years to make: there is nothing weak or half-conceived here. While it might be his best work yet, it is by no means a dramatic leap forward, as the few other albums that I’ve heard exhibit much of the same ineffable sadness and focused intensity. There are several obvious standout moments, such as the echoing and lurching divinity of “Undertow” or the spectral pulsing of “Voice of the Book,” but Landings is one of those albums where my favorite song is destined to be in a constant state of flux. This is a thoroughly complex, visionary, and unique work. (The CD and MP3 versions of Landings on Type will not be released until 1/19/10, but the limited edition double LP is out now (with a bonus disc that I have not heard yet).
This reissue of their sixth album (not including those done with Brian Eno) is a most welcome sight. Often overlooked in favor of their '70s output (understandably considering how good those albums are), Curiosum remains a curiosity in the Cluster back catalogue. It is quite different to their earlier works, less serious sounding than previous albums. However, the variation of styles and approaches on this album means it comes across as more of a compilation than a fully fleshed out album. Yet, I argue that its disparate nature is part of its charm.
Curiosum kicks off with “Oh Odessa,” which harks back to the playful sounds of Zuckerzeit but it does not repeat what Cluser have already done on that album. “Oh Odessa” instead sounds like the theme tune to a children’s TV show about science: that mix of wonder and joy that gets lost as we grow older captured forever in synthesiser. “Proantipro” goes in a completely different direction to the rest of the album, sounding like a Throbbing Gristle outtake. The trembling menace and queasy electronic pulses create feelings of paranoia and unease, squelching and whirring background sounds filling out the atmosphere brilliantly.
Changing mood dramatically yet again, “Helle Melange” has the air of an old folk song but as imagined by the inhabitants of some future society where only the scantest records of the past remain. Elsewhere, the wonky rhythms of “Tristan in Der Bar” might be that future society’s pop music; its somewhat alien structure is quite unlike anything in Cluster’s back catalogue and represents a strand of music that they unfortunately never returned to. The same can be said of “Seltsame Gegend” which pre-empts the sound of Autechre by a good decade. As if the world needed more proof that Cluster were far ahead of their time, here’s another prime example.
Curiosum is not the best Cluster album by any means but the fact that it remains an obscurity rather than the peculiar brother to their classic albums is a crime. Granted some of the pieces may sound like unfinished sketches but there is so much charm permeating the music on this album that it is impossible to not fall in love with it. In addition, the fact that none of the pieces seem to fit together pays testament to the creativity of Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius. It always confused me as to how Cluster would remain inactive for so long after this album when the music here showed so much promise to redefine electronic music in the '80s like they had already done in the '70s. Curiosum now has the chance to be rediscovered and given its proper place along with Roedelius and Moebius’ other works.
While the artist roster reads like the authors of an academic journal, anyone who has had their nose in modern experimental/electronic music surely knows most, if not all of the participants listed. While originally issued in the early parts of this decade, this massive collaboration of guitar innovation and laptop artistry predates many of these artists' best known works and it shows that even in these salad days, these guys were (and still are) at the top of their game.
With Oren Ambarchi and AMM’s Keith Rowe handling the stringed instruments and Christian Fennesz, Peter Rehberg and Paul Gough (Pimmon) manning the Powerbooks, the collaborations here show just how the organic guitars and software can co-mingle in perfect improvisation. The first two tracks, “Afternoon Tea,” parts one and two were originally issued together on CD in 2000, consisting of studio improvisations. The material is expanded here, with “No Title,” originally from a compilation, and two “Live Tea” tracks that were never before issued, and recorded live.
“Afternoon Tea Part One” begins with the more overt sounds of subtle guitar string scrapes before the subtle intrusion of digital noise begins, at an extremely restrained volume level. Eventually there arises electronic pings and phone dial tones that are simultaneously dissonant, yet have some semblance of conventional musicality to them. The combination becomes that of shrill, shimmering squeals and bassy, dark textures with a bit of rhythmic interference. By the end it is a swarm of buzzing and heavy burbling darkness, all of which is underscored by calm, relaxed guitar sounds underneath the mire.
The second part leans more heavily into noise and glitch territory, focusing on amplifier hums and unnatural chirps and burps that allow in a significant amount of digital interference and glitches. Eventually it transitions into some overt guitar playing, but even that stays on the rawer side of sound. The short “No Title” is more simplistic, with what is most likely field recordings and overdriven guitar scrapes matched with laptop ambience, the former the victor in this skirmish.
The two fully live tracks that are making their first appearance here sound no less realized than the studio improvisations, beginning with a warm digital organ drone and guitar skittering, with different but cohesive layers intermingling with one another. While there are a lot of collage elements and wobbling cuts and tones in sound, the lighter, lush drone that sounds like it is the work of Fennesz dominates the track in the best possible way. The second half puts more Eastern inspired guitar chaos over heavy, forceful electronics and matches the most conventional sounds of the album with the most unconventional: percussive thumps and guitar playing met with chaotic laptop noise, all of which dissolves into organic gauzy textures and reversed sounds, ending the disc as strongly as it started.
Considering the pedigree of the artists, anything less than a stellar set of improvisations would be significantly out of place. Even though it is nearly a decade old, the music could be recorded this year and it would be just as fresh, showing that, especially in the cases of Fennesz, Rehberg, and Gough, it is the operator, not the software (which is surely beyond obsolete by this point) that is responsible for the sound, rendering the argument that anyone with a laptop can make beautiful sounds a moot one.
Working alone, Marchetti has solidly established himself as truly a shaman of sound. His combination of worldwide field recordings and subtle treatments has created a world that is both alien and familiar, warm and harrowing. Here working alongside Yôko Higashi, the two weave sound that goes from the industrial realm into the wilds of Africa, and then back again.
The opening piece, "Pétrole 73," is Marchetti solo, composed in 2005. Using only some rudimentary synthesizers, field recordings on the ship Stubnitz, and CB radio conversations, the sound is pure industrial isolation. The track maintains a sense of disconnected tension through its entire duration, focusing on the hollow, bassy nautical clattering of the ship, with sustained car-horn like drones that never seem to relent, but instead grow in intensity throughout. Whether this is truly happening or is just a psycho-acoustic reaction to the repetition, I can’t say for sure. The sound only stops when the “trip” comes to its end, leaving only the hollow, rumbling ambience of the boat that somehow manages to be comforting, even through the sonic chaos.
The second piece, "Okrua," is that of Ms. Higashi alone. In comparison, it is a longer piece focused more on traditional ambience at its onset. The synthesizer based ambience eventually gives way to field recordings after a healthy amount of static and digital interference. Like Marchetti, Higashi displays great skill in creating miniature dramas based on ambient recordings. Beginning with birds and the sound of motion, the journey’s calm is interrupted by music in the distance, dogs barking, and a festival like atmosphere. The music and voices of Mozambique are the warmest and most inviting part of the recording though, as things begin to take a turn for the worst with chaotic movements, ragged percussion, and disembodied radio communications before ceasing, leaving only the distant sound of music and birds.
The final piece, "Pétrole 42," is the collaborative track between the two artists, with Marchetti focusing on weaving dark and shimmering drones via synthesizer and tape, while Higashi provides vocals, the combination of which maintains the tension and isolation of the opening piece, but there is a greater since of levity here, where the tension does not feel as if it is going to end badly, just that the culmination will lead to a comfortable release. The closing sound of what is likely the creaking Stubnitz ship ends the work in an eerie sense of calm.
While I usually find Lionel Marchetti’s work dark, it usually has more organic and spiritual creepiness to it. For me, it conjures images of witch doctors, dark jungles, and movements seen from flickering fires. Here it is a darkness that comes from mechanical isolation and a sense of dread due to the actions of man, not the supernatural. It is a fascinating journey, though I think I still prefer Mr. Marchetti focusing on the supernatural more than the industrial.
Ici d'ailleurs reissues Matt Elliott's last 3 albums in "Songs", a deluxe box containing 7 vinyls including one with 7 unreleased Failed Songs.
4 colors printed hard box containing - 7 clear vinyl 12" in black printed brown cardboard sleeve - a MP3 download ticket
The reissue is also available in a low price CD box set. And for those who already owns one of it, the vinyls and Failed Songs are or will be available separatly on our websites.
Failed Songs unreleased tracks from last 3 albums recording sessions 01. Mellow 02. Eulogy For Liam 03. Melange 04. South Canadian Sea 05. Song To Child 06. Lament 07. Wedding Song
Howling songs [Brainwashed review ] 01. The Kübler-Ross model 02. Something about ghosts 03. How much in blood ? 04. A broken flamenco 05. Berlin & Bisenthal 06. I name this ship the tragedy, bless her & all who sail with her 07. The howling song 08. Song for a failed relationship 09. Bomb the stock exchange
Failing songs [Brainwashed review ] 01. Our weight in oil 02. Chains 03. The seance 04. The failing song 05. Broken bones 06. Desamparado 07. Lone gunman required 08. Good pawn 09. Compassion fatigue 10. The ghost of Maria Callas 11. Gone 12. Planting seeds
Drinking songs [Brainwashed review ] 01. C. F. Bundy 02. Truying to explain 03. The guilty party 04. Whats wrong ? 05. The Kursk 06. What the fuck am I doing on this battlefield 07. A waste of blood 08. The maid we messed
Marc Ngyuen - guitar, keyboard and electronic Guillaume Ollendorff - laptop and electronic
Live en San Antón is the result of a three days session of improvised music committed by Marc Nguyen and Guillaume Ollendorff recorded in the barrio San Antón, in the southern Spanish city of Alicante in April 2008.
Marc & O. have known each other for 13 years: they once worked together for a company that sold missiles and celebrity magazines; they later played and toured together in Marc's electronic-rock band project, called Colder. Guillaume has made music here and there (Tsé, The Mainstream Ensemble, Dust and Chimes) and now, has a life as an independant publisher of Philosophy. After all these years, this is the first time they have actually recorded together.
The intent of Scratoa! should be understood at the very moment you press play. It sounds like it is named. As some kind of big musical lapsus,the kind of ones kids do everyday with toys. A Vomited and improvised - somehow elegant, sometimes not - non sense. A musical role playing game experiment in ten parts, where Tex Avery, Baruch Spinoza and Herbie Hancock's spirits have been called over three nights to conduct a crowd of gorillas, frogs, cats, birds and ducks in heat, forgotten cartoon characters, families of gypsies and guitars, local pagan marching bands, and drunk kids armed with fire crackers.
Experiencing Scratoa! will probably not cure any disease nor it will help you improve some social skills either. But listening to this first session may however be recommended for all these tiny moments of your life when all you fancy is just a good old fix of primitive poetry.
Paul Baker - vocals, guitar, bass, drum machine John Fedowitz - vocals, guitar, bass, drum machine
Before there was A Place To Bury Strangers, there was Skywave, a three piece noise pop band from Fredericksburg, Virgina. When Ollie left to move to NYC, Paul and John remained and reorganized as Ceremony. While there will be undeniable comparisons made to APTBS (they still remain friends and share an affinity for loud guitars), Ceremony employ a songcraft far more focused on making catchy pop tunes than blowing out speakers and eardrums.
Limited to 500 copies this 7" single is a teaser for the duo's LP & CD on Killer Pimp, Rocket Fire, due early 2010. "Cracked Sun," the B-side is exclusive.
Kim Field - Vocals, Q-Chord, Omnichord, Keyboard John Ceparano - Guitar, Bass, Vocals Mark Robinson - Keyboard James Renard - Drums Sanford Santacroce - Bass
Classic pop songwriting fused with hard driving disco backbeats... hooky bass lines... layered, shoegazey guitars and floating, atmospheric synths with Kim Field's unmistakably sincere and distinctively un-affected ethereal vocals.
Both songs are from the forthcoming LP & CD Mirrors In Your Eyes, Soundpool's third full-length album, due early 2010 on Killer Pimp.