AUN is definitely the work of Christian Fennesz, but it does have a distinctly different sensibility compared to the work he normally puts out under his surname. Rather than a suite of complex, evolving compositions, this feels more like a series of sketches, a rough draft for other works, that function just fine on their own (and obviously work well in a soundtrack context).
We made it to 700 episodes. While it's not a special episode per se—commemorating this milestone—you can pretty much assume that every episode is special. This one features Mark Spybey & Graham Lewis, Brian Gibson, Sote, Scanner and Neil Leonard, Susumu Yokota, Eleven Pond, Frédéric D. Oberland / Grégory Dargent / Tony Elieh / Wassim Halal, Yellow Swans, Dental waste in Saigon photo by Krisztian. Get involved: subscribe, review, rate, share with your friends, send images!
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The relationships between these four artists makes for a complex family tree on their own, and thus it makes perfect sense that there is a tangible sense of unity between these four sides of vinyl, something split releases often miss. Jeremy Lemos and Matthew Hale Clark play together in White/Light, while Ken Camden and Matt Jencik make up Kranky band Implodes. While each artist contributes very different sound material, they all complement each other quite well.
I could never quite understood why this Portland duo were not more popular, as their dreamy Twin Peaks/early 4AD/shoegazer aesthetic always seemed pretty likable to me (if a bit over-sedate).  Curiously, however, they have dramatically changed their sound for this album, their most high-profile release to date.  I cannot quite say that their shift into quasi-choral ambient doom is entirely an improvement, given that the new lack of actual "songs" is necessarily less engaging, but the better moments are pretty damn close to being audio heroin.
2009's polarizing God is Good alienated quite a few long-time Om fans, a situation that this album is highly unlikely to remedy–it looks like Al Cisneros' fascination with sitars, strings, and tablas is here to stay.  In fact, Om has never sounded less like Om, which I find a bit troubling.  Still, Al's ambition and intensity are almost sufficient enough to make it all work.  Despite its occasionally awkward attempts at grandeur and exoticism, Advaitic Songs is ultimately a very listenable and uncharacteristically varied batch of songs.
Ramleh and Broken Flag have seen a resurgence in the past few years, largely due to the three day Never Say When festival in the UK this past May (for which both of these releases were compiled), but also in a recent reactivation of Gary Mundy's seminal noise (and sometimes rock) project. While Mundy and current partner in crime Anthony DiFranco are moving onward with new material, these sets are an essential documentation of the band, and label’s past, as well as an often overlooked piece of early industrial culture.
Following up an already impressive album (the self-released CDR and cassette reissued II) is never an easy feat, but Chicago's Sun Splitter have done just that. Continuing their doom metal/rock/industrial hybrid sound with an even greater level of polish, as well as going a bit more experimental at times, the sequel may even surpass the predecessor.
Chalk has again walked a very fine line between complete abstraction and conscious identification. It's something that I feel only this genre is capable of and that Chalk, in particular, has managed to portray on Vega.
As if the allure of Jessica Bailiff's voice isn't enough to get any reasonable person excited about Northern Song Dynasty, then knowing that her fantastic song writing mixes exceedingly well with Jesse Edwards' approach should be enough to motivate everyone else.
En's 2010 debut (The Absent Coast) was pretty much universally regarded as a great drone album, finding a nice balance between Stars of the Lid-style shimmering bliss and subtly harsh crackle and hiss.  Happily, their latest album repeats that formula, but takes all of their impulses a bit further: the harsh parts are harsher and the dreamy parts are even dreamier. Although it may not be not quite as uniformly solid as its predecessor, the highlights are a bit more impressive.
This is a landmark album in the Acid Mothers Temple oeuvre for a variety of reasons, but not all of them are good.  On the positive side, Cotton Casino has returned to the fold and Kawabata Makoto and company have ambitiously stepped out of their comfort zone to attempt a "true electric jazz album" in homage to Miles Davis' 1970 masterpiece.  Unfortunately, the end result of their bold experiment is a bit of an exhausting, self-indulgent, and muddled mess.
