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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Beaming in from the limited edition cold, this tweaked-out compilation of Astral Social Club's early volumes is both an excellent introduction and a fresh perspective on the project. These eleven tracks, pulled from the first seven self-released CD-Rs releases by the head of the VHF label, weave in and out of conventional consciousness, worked into each other by the Club's sole member, Neil Campbell (now ex-Vibracathedral Orchestra).
Everything's untitled here, so it's a little difficult for anal retentives to source tracks back to the original volume tracks. It gets even harder when Campbell starts flaying tracks together as on the opening piece here, making the pair seem like they were always meant to be together, the colliding and then syncing bleeps spinning like cross section peeks at planetary rings. What Astral Social Club's music excels at where others fail is the creation of a kind of musical electric ooze, collected sounds being propelled as one mass on breathless electronic steam huffing bursts. This squelch and squeeze effect of digital and analogue has an almost physical presence, Campbell's blessed mind/body drifting through various worlds carrying particles back home with him.
This mix is probably best expressed through the fuzzy smothered bagpipe of "Four" and its shifting sleepy gaze that seems caught up in the digital eddies. It’s either great fortune or great acuity, but all of the songs here contain chimerical unintentional melodies, the matching of these two tissue types sounding distinctly hands on. Despite the inner thread of beauty right the way through, this music never settles into mere ambience or any form of mild listening, the sinister churns of Campbell's flickering panicked vocals keep slipping through. He's no stranger to beats either with analogue and digital percussion clicking, cutting and stomping throughout, sometimes lifting off like Can’s rhythm section gone off-the-rails. The percussive buckle of Tirath Nirmala Singh's reworking of "Three" proves the most if-focus beat, setting off firecrackers in an exploding never-ending loop. Sounding like a bootleg of LX Paterson finally losing his mind during his most wrecked collage session, bursts of bass drained dub melody percolate through.
Regardless of a few missed classics from the early runs of the volumes, this is still an tremendous round-up of the early material. It's like being reintroduced to the first seven releases in one full-size rush, leaving me thirsty for the next dose.
When I first heard about these four HEAVYbreathing volumes of erotic music, I wondered what more they could possibly contribute to this already oversaturated kitsch niche. Somewhat different from others like it is that these volumes are further subdivided into themes. The series is subtitled "The Sounds of Sex," and that's pretty much what this disc is, for better or for worse.
Dating from the second half of the 20th century, these tracks are from a variety of countries and musical styles. The songs are arranged for impact rather than chronologically, which makes this more than a mere archival project. But while ambitious in scope, it does have a couple of debilitating limitations.
The biggest stumbling block for me is that almost every track features the sound of a woman's orgasm. Not only are these obviously faked and about as erotic as an anatomical chart, but the explicitness leaves little to the imagination. The novelty gets old fast. This is a shame because there's actually a lot of good music underneath these moans that becomes secondary as a result. This disc is obviously aimed at a heterosexual audience, presumably lonely bachelor fans of Austin Powers.
The highlight for me is the section starting with Suzie Seacell's "Me and My Vibrator," followed by the always entertaining Screamin' Jaw Hawkins and his track "Bite It," The Groovers' "Groovy," and John & Jackie's "Little Girl." This sequence strikes the perfect balance of humor and raunch and would be just as likable no matter the context. There are a few other notable curiosities, like Jean Seberg's "Hiasmina" or Joy Bamgbola's strangely alluring a capella "Wet Lips," but it's hard to listen to this compilation straight through. One thing this collection does especially well is documenting the origin of these tracks. Even when the liner notes tend to be more anecdotal than informative, they're still enjoyable to read.
Timed to exactly 69 minutes, it's obvious that a lot of work went into this volume, which makes it unfortunate that the overall results aren't that stimulating.
Little Esther Phillips breathes new life into this series when she notes the time in Pete "Guitar" Lewis' "Ooh Midnight." Weary, deflated horns wheeze in the background of this raunchy teaser, recorded on a sly summer’s night in 1951. It's ultra-slow and unavoidable, starting this disc with a bang.
That track's followed by more strong material like Tina and Ike's feverish "Doin' It" and the heavy funk of Chakachas' "Jungle Fever." Things go a little awry when Grace Jones' angular "Feel Up" shifts the mood, and from here, things get more explicit. Hexstatic Rewind's "The Horn" hits a nice stride, but the disc peaks perhaps a bit prematurely with Kool Keith's brief sex session, "Lick My Ass." More hip hop follows, N.E.R.D.'s Prince-impersonating "Stay Together" and an uninspired cut from De La Soul and Shell Council that at least ends with a surprising radio collage. At the center of the disc is Lil' Kim's "Custom Made (Give It to You)." It's a great song by itself, but hijacks the mood as much of the Grace Jones track does a few songs earlier.
The album is immediately reclaimed afterwards by James Rivers' "Thrill Me," a slow cooker reminiscent of the opener with its sultry singer and bright saxophone. The Sisters Love dim the lights and get busy with their "Give Me Your Whisper" before the disc heads to the Caribbean for the next few tracks, which are all fine but not particularly outstanding. DJ Qbert's abstract "Aphrodisiskratch" is a strange counterpoint on which to end, which more or less sums up how I feel about this disc. The songs selected are a pretty strong group but so different from each other that they don't always work so well together.
Despite those flaws, however, there are several pockets of great music on here, and I have to say that the music on this volume is a big improvement over the first one. A lot of these songs rise above the obvious theme, and the compilation is all the better for it.
samples:
Pete "Guitar" Lewis feat. Little Esther Phillips - Ooh Midnight
Imagine if Miles Davis, Sepultura and Karlheinz Stockhausen had the opportunity to work their magic on the phenomenon of Drum’n’Bass.It could well have sounded like “Compressor” by TERMINAL SOUND SYSTEM.
Imagine if Miles Davis, Sepultura and Karlheinz Stockhausen had the opportunity to work their magic on the phenomenon of Drum’n’Bass.It could well have sounded like “Compressor” by TERMINAL SOUND SYSTEM.
Davis often absorbed new styles of music and made them his own.That’s exactly what Australian artist Skye Klein, under the guise of TERMINAL SOUND SYSTEM, has achieved with “Compressor”.
“The thing I love about Drum’n’Bass is the sounds,” explains Skye.“I wanted to escape from the formula that has made the music so predictable”.There is no doubt that he has achieved that with “Compressor”.
Drum’n’Bass is most obviously about the drums but the bass is also a feature.“Compressor” has a rich sonic texture that does justice to the genre and also acknowledges Squarepusher with reverence.
Skye obviously likes more than just the sounds of Drum’n’Bass. He grew up playing in metal bands and gained his ‘metal credentials’ in the acclaimed group HALO, a hybrid doom metal band that wasn’t afraid to bring the noise!So, it’s not surprising that the occasional metal power chord riff finds its way into the mix.
“Compressor” is a creative and confident album that rewrites the possibilities for Drum’n’Bass and playfully shows off its musical influences. It’s experimental, it’s dynamic and it declares that Skye has carved out a new sound to repeat his previous success. TERMINAL SOUND SYSTEM has arrived.
Release Date: 8 May 07
EXTREMEThis email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.www.xtr.com
artist: Andrew Pekler title: Cue catalog#: krank109 formats available: CD CD UPC code: 7 96441 81092 5 release date: may 21, 2007
content: From Andrew Pekler: Typically, library music albums were not available to the general public but were marketed directly to film, tv and commercial production companies. Judging by the information provided on the record sleeves, these consumers of library music were assumed to have little interest in the identities of the individuals who actually wrote and played the music, the musicians´ names often being relegated to the very small print. Instead, it appears that the functional aspects of the product were of foremost importance; the persistently generic names of the tracks and their descriptions, durations and suggestions for their usage are the ubiquitous features of library album packaging. At the same time, the name of the production studio itself is given the kind of front cover top-billing usually reserved for a performer or composer (or to brand names on boxes of corn flakes). A picture emerges of near-anonymous composers, musicians and arrangers going to work 9 to 5, producing music according to functional-aesthetic guidelines for a never to be seen customer, further removed than even the session players at Motown or Studio One ever were from the glamour of pop or the pretense of individual artistry. This sort of faceless assembly line production runs counter to the conventional (western) practice of connecting creative works with individuals deemed to be their authors. On the other hand, this apparent anonymity and subordination to quasi-utilitarian determinants does have its own liberating potential. Freed of the obligations of personal expression, one can simply work with the material at hand, concentrating on discrete aesthetic objectives without being unduly concerned for the overall "meaning" of the work. To paraphrase John Cage, the artist is free to have nothing to say and to say it. With this in mind Andrew Pekler conceived and produced Cue. Starting from short expository phrases setting forth a track's instrumentation, mood and development (reproduced on the back cover), Pekler attempted to construct pieces to fit these specific criteria. During the process of assembly a track would more often than not evolve beyond its prescribed limits (in these cases, the descriptive blurbs have been updated to reflect the changes). This "dog walking man" method turned out to be a fertile middle ground between the micro-managed jazz miniatures of Nocturnes, False Dawns & Breakdowns (2004) and the expansive improvisations of Strings + Feedback (2005) and may help to explain why Cue sounds very little like its predecessors. On the whole it is a vibrant, playful album with the occasional somber passage providing some contrast to the predominantly ebullient tone. Piano and analog synthesizer sounds abound while percussion (when used) is typically reduced to a minimum of tom toms, bells and unidentified noises. Feedback can be heard in almost every track but taking on more subtle textural roles, guitars get the occasional spotlight and men are wearing pastels again this spring. It should be noted that Cue is not an attempt to re-create, re-imagine or re-contextualize library music of past eras. It is not a post-modern exercise in citation, juxtaposition or collage. The attempt to re-create the "style" of library music would be pointless anyway as the music found on library records does not adhere to any distinct stylistic or aesthetic formula. Instead, library music can be defined by the formal constraints pertaining to its mode of production and it is the appropriation and application of these same constraints that have enabled and inspired Andrew Pekler to produce the music for this album.
context: Andrew Pekler has previous releases on Scape and Staubgold, is one third of the Kosmischer Pitch live band, and is part of an as yet unnamed project with Jan Jelenik and Hanno Leichtmann.
track listing: 1. On 2. Roomsound 3. Pensive Boogie 4. Steady State 5. Rockslide 6. Dust Mite 7. Vertical Gardens 8. Dim Star 9. Contact 10. Mote 11. Floating Tone
quote: "...rich, strange and occasionally opressive; chamber music from a chamber that couldn't exist. Lovely." BBC Experimental
ph: 773.539.6270 email: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. web: www.kranky.net
artist: Strategy title: Future Rock catalog #: krank108 formats available: CD upc ode: 7 96441 81082 6 release date: May 21, 2007
content: Three years have passed since Drumsolo's Delight, and Strategy finally comes forward with a new full-length. His third album to date, Future Rock focuses Strategy's diverse interests into a single point, while still drawing directly from the dense, shimmering sonic language established on Delight.
Based on a refined studio process that incorporates multi-tracked live instrumentation, archaic synthesizer equipment, archived recordings of improvisations and band practices, digital sound design, and sound of non-musical origin, the album is a polyglot solution of genres. Musical quotations, discrete sonic jokes, and skewed musicological impressions are blended into a dream-like, impressionistic musical composite which confounds and compounds music's past, present, and future. A gauzy, vibrating curtain of sound, much like the one that made Drumsolo's so distinctive, ties together all the songs as do the signature Wurlitzer electric piano and old-school spring reverb.
Incorporating compositions that have taken years to develop, a handful of close collaborators (including his cohorts from the band Nudge), and using source material that dates as far back as 2000, Future Rock is easily Strategy's most complex, narrative, ambitious and overtly "pop" record to date; as well, it's practically a thesis statement for his vision of a genre-free musical world. To date you've heard Strategy dabble in everything from headphone-oriented ambient music to house and dub; this is the work that brings it all together.
context: This is Paul Dickow's second full length for kranky and third as Strategy. He is extremely busy running the Community Library label, which will be releasing a 12" version of this album's title track, while also collaborating in the trio Nudge, and recording and performing solo work. track listing: 1. Can't Roll Back 2. Future Rock 3. Running On Empty 4. Windswept (Interlude) 5. Stops Spinning 6. Phantom Powered 7. Sunfall (Interlude) 8. Red Screen 9. I Have To Do This Thing (Fantastic Planet Mix)
quotes:
'...the unexpected musical aphrodesiac of the year.' mundane sound
"...as much a delight as it is a cipher.' all music guide
MCIAA are always generous with the music's technical elements on their liners, if only they'd go a little deeper with content for the head as well. This latest MCIAA release might be a sort of flipside to their Cosmic Light Of A New Millennium album, also on Important, this time exploring dark instead of light. If that is the record's aim, then it falls slightly short as Roberto Opalio's vocals are too beautiful for the black of nothingness.
The opening crackles of "Part One" seem to bridge the gap between light and shade, splinters of color lighting up the song's cold background. A possibly-human / possibly-horn refrain reacts with against analogue chimes to fill out this soundscape further. Roberto’s dilating dual vocals have slowly become a glorious trademark of the brothers' MCIAA sound, one of the great wordless vocal styles around.
The music on both of these lengthy pieces works well in expanding to take in smashed electrics, as well as sections of carefully interwoven analogue material. The percussion is loose and mostly formless, digital squelches of rain soaked drum beating peppering the middle ground like close-ups of exploding raindrops. The sounds here don't exactly come under the category of the generic dark genre though; they sound lost rather than sinister, too busy to be representative of a void. Rising and falling within the wide lens mix are elements that smear into each other like a hurried and blurred precipitation of colors and emotions. This great smear orbits itself, its elements too numerous to hold onto before slowing to a silent halt.
The pace of "Part Two" also begins slowly, taking its time to sink into reality. This strung-out and shaky elongated Jandek-style guitar descent slides into a thick slow motion fall. This builds into a hovering murmur of barbed acoustic guitar loops and snatches of vocal moan, a build that hovers between angelic menace and madness.
To dismiss Laibach's work as ersatz, corny, fascist, or communist is the easy way out. The group has always let conceptual content dictate formal content. For over the quarter century of the group's existence, their work has been one over-arcing concept: control. Laibach's oeuvre is an exploration of how states, religions, and corporations manipulate our behavior.
Explorations of such content is painfully exposed via utilization of the very forms used by the aforementioned matrixes of power. Many listeners find this mirror off-putting to say the least. The revelation of the social constructs which constitute the scaffolding of their ‘heart and soul’ is a little too close to unconscious base camp. For others, this mimicking of the formal trappings of control is perceived as subversive, transgressive, and ultimately liberating. Perhaps we've been duped. Seemingly, Laibach have been trying to make the intellectual content of their work more explicit on their last few albums. In their tour documentary, Divided States of America, they announce that though they prefer to make no moral judgments, the recent actions of the United States government force them to expound a position.
Their intention with Volk could not be more clear. Volk is people. The cover is a paint-by-number watercolor of sheep. (Connect the dots,...) Each track is a radical reinterpretation of a national anthem of various countries spanning the globe, including the Vatican, and NSK (Laibach's self-created microstate). Laibach's delicious ambiguity is here in heaps. As dismissive as the cover art is in regard to the proletariat, all the songs are heartfelt in their defense of the dignity and value of the citizens of their respective nations.
Specific tracks are anything goes goulash of ethno-muzak, techno, folk songs and church choirs. Utterly tasteless sound is mixed with the aurally sacred. Song structures are totally asymmetrical: it's never predictable if a boys choir will suddenly join in or the piece will abruptly end. Splattered throughout the album are washes and ruptures of electronic textures and noise, even recalling those bubbling squelches found on Coil’s Musick to Play in the Dark series. It is hard to conceive of two more diametrically opposed aesthetic figureheads than Laibach and Coil. If the term "postmodernism" signifies anything, that anything defines the cross-cultural currents and conflicting formal paradigms that weave to create Volk. Indeed, the asymmetry of individual tracks, coupled with the ubiquity of sonic elements spread throughout the album, renders an allover effect making Volk unified tapestry.
Some tracks lay their emphasis on folks songs ("Italia"), others the floor-stomping techno ("Espana") that Laibach seem to finally have perfected on their previous album WAT. "Vaticanae" is pure medieval beatitude. A past / future split is present in the lyrical content. Most of the tracks fit into two categories: those criticizing the past actions and policies of the nations in question ("Anglia," "Espana"); or those sympathizing with citizens and encouraging them towards more constructive future ("Rossiya," "Zhonghua"). Laibach are definitely more sympathetic to communist or post-communist nations. In "Slovania," they make it explicit: "for all communists / out of the feudal darkness / away from the nameless ones / we stand alone in history / facing East in sacrifice." This is not to say they've went and gone polemical on us. "Francia" addresses current social tensions within the country, but whether Laibach are attempting to inspire nationalists, Muslims, Basques or all three remains blissfully murky. Best of all is "Yisra’el" which skirts painfully close to Zionism, and therefore gives hemorrhoids to the minority faction of racist Laibach fans. Most telling is the digital / analog, scratchy LP / laptop processed neutered retake of Laibach’s own NSK anthem.
Volk is one of Laibach's most concise statements of how matrixes of power manipulate the populace, and how perhaps by becoming aware thereof, said populace can have more of a voice in controlling their own future. It is also one their most musically complex and rewarding albums. My own sociological constructions lend myself to their cause. A leaning towards socialism and a family tradition of coalmining primed me for Laibach’s vision. My favorite record of 2007 so far, and I know why I feel that way, I think.
Released in 1973, this is the first CD version of this psychedelic pop album. Much of the inventive melodies, delicate harmonies, and breezy guitars are rooted in the '60s Western tradition but contain enough twists on the genre to give the tunes a subtly unique flavor. While not terribly groundbreaking, this album does hold the distinction of being the first available psychedelic album from Indonesia.
Even though the group plays electric guitars, many of their songs conjure peaceful bucolic scenes rather than smoky, drug-fueled sessions, yet that certainly doesn't make them any less pleasing. They turn the volume up on several tracks, like "Si Ompong," "Minggu Pagi," or "Terimalah Cintaku," but it's generally the other songs that carry more of the band’s personality. “Masa Depanmu” has an oddly appealing drone over the top of the melody, while the organ and flute punctuated by the bass on "Kr. Bunga Nusa Indah" brings their sound closer to home. There's only one song in English, but, if anything, not understanding the lyrics makes the album more enjoyable. This is especially the case since the lyrics to "Will Never Die" are fairly typical, if good-intentioned, free love fare that seems dated by today’s standards.
The most frustrating part of this disc is that there are no liner notes to provide any biographical information or historical context for this group. The insert includes a before and after demonstration of the cover restoration, which is interesting enough but trivial considering what's left out. For a hallowed lost recording, the details are surprisingly lacking. Regardless, the music holds up on its own, no matter the context. Many of these tracks grew on me pretty quickly. They’re well-crafted songs, polished but not overly so, with enough hooks and memorable bits to keep me coming back for more.
This album’s combination of morose humour, disappointment, genetic misfortune vocals and the sole accompaniment of an electric bass have him not just wallowing, but drowned in and then dredged up from the murky bed of self pity.
Being bummed-the-fuck-out for nearly 30 years can't be good for someone's health, but Jandek still continues to haunt the release schedules regardless. It won't be a surprise to anyone even vaguely familiar with Jandek's recordings to know that this latest solo effort isn't going to be anything too unanticipated.
This is another long bleak night of a charred soul, much more so than any of his live releases, but no real shock to anyone familiar with his bass / vocal modus operandi. At the end of the day it's a Jandek album, it does what it says on the side of jewel case, and we can’t really expect much else. This is down a darker path than his usual guitar-based solo albums, and even tops his recent bass/vocal efforts for wretchedness. The bass work on 2004's Shadow of Leaves seemed to be a lot looser in retrospect, the strings hanging just a little too much, here they're almost noose tight. The methodology of his bass playing is remarkably similar to his guitar work. Fingers slide up and down the strings drifting between faraway mechanical strumming and choosing runs of notes seemingly with great purpose. The instrument is the perfect accompaniment for the morose and croaky wandering scales delivery he’s chosen for The Ruins of Adventure.
There's an amazing similarity to much of the bass sound here to the bass on a 1981 Cure B-side called "Descent." I'm sure this won't trouble the majority of listeners, but it nags at me throughout the whole black affair. There's hardly a moment on this LP that doesn't feel like its heading towards that song's falling melody line. For those not still lost in the wooly grip of early commercial goth-pop, the low slung undulating murk of these strummed frequencies will probably find the air unremittingly bleak. Towards the end of "Completely Yours" he plays it a little more violently, forcing the strings to near breaking point. It's this bass playing that makes this Jandek release worthy of picking out from the steady inundation of slippery Corwood product. As for the peculiar album title, apart from being a Dungeon & Dragons module, it seems to be just another summing up of Jandek's regret at having even bothered trying to get involved with other humans in the first place.
Lyrically it's no giant leap for mankind, but still it works. It's only on the opening "The Park" where it feels like he's riding the steed of a good idea into the abattoir at full pelt. This slightly Greta Garbo seasoned piece sees Jandek planning to build a park where nobody else is even allowed to visit, not even on a day-pass; now that’s just plain mean. The rest of the lyrics, as expected, are highly intense and personal declarations of rejection, self-disgust and love, the latter sounding more like threats with his delivery here. When he claims 'I'll be with you at night and forever long,' I feel like checking the locks on the windows. His vocal on-the-verge-of-collapse drawl is like being in a room lit with a single black light bulb, cracks of light forcing their way through the still viscous tar-like blackout paint of the music. Any expected trickledown of evolution from his playing as part of an improvising group isn't evident here. He's continuing down his singular route, seemingly unaware of the how close he can sometimes to slipping into the ditch of cliché.
To Roccoco Rot’s Robert Lippok sees him taking elements of Roccoco’s sound and adding more of his own touch to it. Alas, at just over 20 minutes there is just not enough here.
This taster is enough to whet my appetite for a full album's worth of music; it is frustrating to be constantly restarting this album in order to satisfy my need for more. However, the music here is enchanting and far more organic than the EP's title would suggest.
While some of the miniatures (and at 20 seconds, some of them are microscopic!) suit the short time scale, I felt that many of the pieces could have gone on for much longer. The opener "Tracking" is one such piece, it is just getting started when it finishes. When Lippok does let the piece go for a conventional amount of time the result is definitely a lot more pleasing. "Unexpected Behavior, No. 7"and "Pick and Place" are two charming pieces, it would have been great to hear a lot more like them.