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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Volcano the Bear's dramatic, highly ambitious two disc (two-CD or two-LP) return is a lot to ingest, however, every second is rewarding in what could easily be one of my top albums of the year so far and my favorite Volcano the Bear release to date.
Describing Volcano the Bear's music is about as difficult as identifying the instruments. The quartet's arsenal of gear is transcendant of time and space, culled from different cultures and different eras, from classically orchestral woodwinds (albeit sometimes just blowing through the mouthpiece) to African thumb piano, helicopter sounds, thunderstorm and rain and running water, medieval squeeze boxes, squeak toys, chirping or crying bird sounds, and Asian stringed things.While improvisation has been integral to the band's development, Volcano the Bear can always be counted on very cold-calculated and composed songs appearing on their official studio albums.Their arrangement is loose but never wanky or show-offey.Perhaps it's this lack of soloing and pretention that has kept them from appropriate recognition by some of the major experimental media in favor for a whole "free folk"/"weird rock"/"new weird America" obsession.
Unlike an album where one style or theme is exploited for nearly the entire duration, Classic Erasmus Fusion showcases a variety of what Volcano the Bear have been practicing for years.Included are accordion like sounds from the squeeze box on "Hail the New Manifesto," which recalls their classic and gorgeous "The Colour of My Find;" unidentifiable things as found on mindbending scraping drones of "Baroque Sensation;" the buzzing of "Lifetime;" and the fantastic arrangement of either harpsichord or the above the fret strings on the guitar, bowed strings, and bell sounds on a song like "Russian Milk."Vocals on songs like "Did You Ever Feel Like Jesus?" and "Sharp as the Queen's Teeth" are not entirely dissimilar to early 1980s acts like The Shiny Men or This Heat, both in delivery and surrealistic content, while other tracks like "The Merry Potter" features a monotone chant over a (more than likely but not quite 100% sure) clarinet, drum, and a hollowed out digeridoo-like instrument interplay.It ends on two lengthy pieces which are long, drawn out droning pieces that don't quite match the length and meditative qualities of stuff from The Mountains Among Us, but the humming and buzzing of what could be a harmonium combined with vocals and processed gongs on something like "See Me Now" works very nicely.
The themes and threads may be loose, but the playing is never sloppy: Daniel Padden's guitar playing, Aaron Moore's drumming,Nick Mott's wind instruments, and Laurence's (now Clarence?) electronics are far more seasoned than on any other past release.Parts of "Hey Judo," for example, feature wonderfully fun, punchy, fast-paced un-Westernplaying by what could be an oud, and the lyrics of "My Favourite Tongues," which might be recognizable from "Seeker" and "New Seeker," are accompanied mainly by some prominent pizzicato plucking.The contexts of the song titles and lyrics are so obscure that I couldn't even begin to make educated guesses at their origins but it's okay to accept that which is somewhat beyond description as it's both well-constructed and enjoyable.
I assume the LP version will be a similar listen as despite the record label's claims, the band insists the only differences have to do with crossfades.And while I've griped in the past on shoddy Beta-Lactam Ring packaging, they must be commended finally for the latest string of CDs, including this one, to be housed in an attrative, rigid, gatefold LP-replica.Hopefully the latest incarnation will make some more live rounds on these shores.
Godspeed member Aidan Girt's latest full-length as 1-Speed Bike is this compilation of tracks from two 12" EPs and new material. Despite coming from different sources, the tracks are blended seamlessly together into one long crazy mix tape and are surprisingly uniform in style and feel.
The few tracks with vocals stand out as the most engaging of the bunch. The often-political spoken word vocals add interest and texture the instrumental tracks are lacking. I loved Girt's stream-of-consciousness and his rambling ranting delivery, but the music itself is rather samey; each track seemed to be variations on the same theme of electronic chatter, blasts of static, and drum machines at a frenetic pace. Toward the end of the album I found it was getting rather tiresome. Other than the vocal tracks I just did not find much to sink my teeth into. The penultimate track, "Will Death Stop Lenny Kravitz's Ego," breaks the mold somewhat with jarring rhythmic bursts of samples distorted to the point of being almost unrecognizable as music is easily the most engaging instrumental on the release.
The track titles alone though provide a fair bit of entertainment; perhaps they're just a gimmick because most have nothing to do with the music that I can tell, but titles like "Vanilla Ice Corrals his Pet Wallaroo, Bucky, into a Trailer After it, and his Goat Pal Honcho, Escaped from a Relative's Home" and "My Dick is this Small Because it's -40 Degrees F" are undoubtedly attention-commanding. Ultimately Someone Told Me Life Gets Easier in Your 18's is more suited as a backdrop than as the main attraction.
Noticeably stepping away from 2002's accessible Mind Elevation,in particular its almost radio-friendly verse-chorus-verse cuts, thelatest N.O.W. album serves not as a return to form but rather as abridge between that album and the tokeworthy downtempo delights of hispost-bleep back catalog.
Boastingstellar production that shames his gaggle of imitators, the results areby-and-large gratifying, but can prove somewhat grating due to anunyielding sense of repetition. No one can deny that George Evelynknows how to lay down a damn fine groove. How effective he istranslating that into a proper song remains up for debate. Case inpoint: although exhibiting a solid foundation, opener "Passion" justbegged for something more than herbal accompaniment to prevent me fromskipping through at its midpoint, a rather rough way to start off analbum.
However, Evelyn knows how to take total control of his listeners,blunted or otherwise, and applies himself towards such means on severaloccasions here. No true roots reggae devotee could possibly pass overthe sun-drenched "Flip Ya Lid", with classic toasting, subtly dubbyechoes, and a bassline begging for a massive sound system. "I Am You"is good old fashioned American blues put through the N.O.W. ringer,lyrically sparse but sonically infused with sincere emotion andspirituality. "Damn" stands out as the true gem of this record,brimming with soulful R&B sensibility and a hefty dollop ofuplifting gospel, starkly contrasting with the desperation of thelyrics.
His best album since the essential Carboot Soul, In A Space Outta Soundgoes down easy for purists and novices alike, proving that despite evenmy own protests, Warp isn't completely useless these days.
Impractical Cockpit, a collective of now-scattered New Orleans’natives, has released five records prior to To Be Treated. And whiletheir music does bear some of the characteristics of the oft-referencedfree-folk genre, Impractical Cockpit’s sound actually recalls a greatdeal of early 80s experimental hardcore like Flipper and early ButtholeSurfers. Load
On the opener, “Furrowed Frow,” dense torrents of guitar shrapnel aretossed off while rattle-trap drumming keeps the song plodding along.The following song, “Passion of a Cop,” is even more desolate sounding.Howling vocals and noisy passages of industrial din make this song oneof the first to jump out ahead of the rest. A minute in and insistentdrumming turns the song from a rambling, unfocused noise jam into apiece of pretty bracing psychedelic fuzz. One perhaps the strongestsong of the whole album, “No More Strobelight,” the band eschew thejamming and instead opt for tightly coiled skronk rock, that sounds notunlike noise-funk outfit Black Eyes. The rest of the album alternatesbetween disjointed guitar pickings and eerie folk jams, such as the onefound “Grails Golden Garden,” which by the end of its six minutesdevolves into a hushed ambient hum, with occasional flourishes ofchimes and marimba. At the other end of the spectrum is a song like“Creeping Giant,” easily the weakest one present on To Be Treated, withits howling vocals and simple drum beat. Perhaps the most bizarre songincluded here is “Latitude: North 41° 53' 0" - Longitude: West 70° 45"46'” which consists of random sounds and various voices rattling offseemingly nonsensical strings of numbers.
To Be Treated isextraordinarily uneven, a statement which most would probably findobvious given a quick listen. Yet despite its constant shifts in moodand sound and structure, Impractical Cockpit still manage to make it anoverall engaging listen.
Over the course of four albums and some relentless touring, Mono have proven themselves capable of making some noise. On You Are There, however, the band doesn't burst in with guns blazing, but quietly sneak in through the side door. They haven't succumbed, however, to making an MOR record by a long shot.
Sometimes the element of surprise is a stronger statement when made soft. What I first take serious notice of on this album is the lyrical bassline, as basslines in general are becoming almost far too ignored. Too many bands it seems are leaving bass out left and right, maybe because the obsession with becoming a rock star is way too commonplay currently, but somehow when the bass guitar comes in after a +4 minute intro, the music exits its incubation and its life begins. Recorded and mixed once again by that relatively unknown and underappreciated Steve Albini (boy can that kid mic a drumset) You Are There clocks in at exactly 60 minutes, and none of them feel wasted.
I can see how Mono might be accused of sounding like other acts but they need to be commended for the ability to both fill the sound and make it something beautiful enough to fall in love with. Sure, they have a lot of extremities and tendencies to layer guitars till speakers rumble, but there are beautiful valleys between the majestic peaks. "A Heart Has Asked for the Pleasure," the album's second song is a purely drum and noise free piece nicely sandwiched between the energetic opener and the Mono side to last year's split with Pelican, "Yearning." It's in this brief valley where the band decorate the landscape with string-like sounds and glistening glockenspiel-like chimes. The fact it stretches to over three minutes is a definite evolution for Mono, who are classically known to keep their quieter pieces short. Back to the ruckus, "Yearning," a popular live favorite, unsurprisingly the track they picked to pair with Pelican, sees the band dancing with metal with a chugging bassline any Hydra Head fan can adore.
After the screaming blaze of "Yearning" finishes smoldering, the band return to the more reserved, more majestic, and quite cinematic sound with the album's (almost) title track, "Are You There?" It calmly eggs us on, hinting at an explosive outburst in numerous spots, building up and building up, only for the rockers to throw a curve ball, as it all unfolds to a gorgeous cello melody, subtly joined by guitar only in its last throes.
When I interviewed Taka (one of the guitarist) for The Eye segment nearly three years ago, they were on tour supporting their second album, One Step More and You Die. Back then, he fondly spoke of his obsession with classical music and yearning to introduce it into the band somehow. The last two tracks of You Are There are probably the closest as the first one is largely a soft piano melody and the album's finale, the 13-minute "Moonlight," opens with what seems like a piano, string, and marimba opening, only to part ways for some quiet guitars, which patiently hold their ground until all hell breaks loose and Mono unleash what the hardcore fans all came out to see.
Mono have a sound, that's undeniable, and while it can become limiting, they have shown their ability to expanding on it without abandonment. Exercising more discipline in composition, restraint, and patience, the band has only become stronger.
Hecq’s latest album is presented with a stark, well-composed black andwhite landscape photograph and that cover image is the perfectintroduction to an album that’s also well-made but lacking identity.
Bad Karmais immaculately produced and tightly composed. The sound design isinteresting without flying off into show-off territory and the rhythmsare clean and intricate, always changing to keep songs moving and tokeep interest from waning. The record is engineered with the kind ofcrisp digital clarity that will make hi-fi systems stand up and takenotice, and it’s perfectly mixed to give space to every nuance, tick,drumbeat, and stuttering drone. Alas, this is a record and not an engineering project.
Sure,it’s a great sounding record and it’ll give the bass bins and tweetersa workout and it would serve perfectly as a primer on how to createmodern dance-influenced but not danceable music, but I’m starting tofeel like all of that isn’t quite enough. I rarely buy records tomarvel at the composition and engineering skills behind the mixingdesk, and Hecq, in all of the technical expertise on display here, hastaken out 90% of what I look for in music!
The melodies arealmost non-existent, stripped away consciously so that the music canfocus more on rhythm and structure. That’s fine in a way, but there’snothing here that we haven’t heard before. The beats stutter and buzz,skip and scatter around like a robot drummer with a short circuit, andit’s fun headphone candy, but it doesn’t pack much of an emotionalpunch. The rhythms are buoyed by atonal washes of brooding drones andsynth pads that are nice but not unexpected.
Maybe it’s justthat time of the year when it starts getting colder out and I want tobundle up in the house with a nice warm blanket of comforting soundsand music that pulls at the heartstrings, but I found Bad Karmato be practically lifeless. There are brilliant production moments suchas the integration of ethnic percussion, chopped up jungle breaks, anda bit of call and response rhythm programming, but that’s just notenough to keep the fire lit, I’m afraid.
There are no marks on this collection suggestive of product or capital. The music, packaged in a jewelry box with five heavy stock cards, bares no trace of greed or dishonesty. The entire package is, on all counts, a work of art far removed from concerns about ownership or illegal practices. The simple act of opening this package is a joy, a revelation of personality and craftsmanship and the importance they still carry in the world of music.
Not since I bought my first LP has a package seemed so stunning. The artwork may be small and the presentation austere, but it carries a personality all its own. This is the work of an individual whose personality shines through his music and his choice of medium. With him comes an entirely new world, a place reshaped in the name of sound and forged beneath the idea that sound is transformative, musical, and everywhere all of the time. Lionel Marchetti is a student of Pierre Schaeffer, a composer whose heart belongs entirely to the uneven pulse of musique concrète's open arms. Both music and musician are welcoming on this collection, enticing listeners to open up the box and travel somewhere for an hour or so, forgetting, in the process, whatever notions might influence the way Red Dust could be heard initially.
The collection is broken up into three 3" discs, each described as a separate movement in a "study" on musique concrète. Do not let the academic language be deceiving. Although Marchetti might be a student of the art, his music is a living mass of people, places, musicians, and ideas. This is not a work of art that belongs in the stuffy atmosphere of a museum or in the halls of an egocentric art gallery; Red Dust is alive, stirring up memories and reanimating old sources of inspiration in its movement. Each disc has an accompanying card included in the set. These cards list the track titles, the musicians responsible for each piece, and in some instances the names of musicians or artists from whom Marchetti has pulled samples or ideas. Included in the collection are the names Fritz Lang, Marcel Duchamp, Pierre Schaeffer, Henri Chopin, and some other, slightly more surprising names: This Heat, Keiji Haïno, The Residents, and PanSonic. It is obvious that Marchetti truly believes music is everywhere and in every time as his choice of sources reflects an expansive appreciation for music in many different forms. Each of the three discs are, in fact, quite distinct, but form a loose narrative in the same way that some cubist art approximates movement. There is room for the listener in this box, plenty of space for him or her to communicate with the sounds and inform where it will go next. The very act of listening changes the outcome of this collection, but every act of listening will also exact a trace of stunning beauty and perverse movement in the brain of the participant.
The first disc, entitled "Livre Maudit," is described as a three part performance in ten movements. Many of the pieces on this disc are less than half a minute long. Four of the tracks, in fact, occupy well over half of this disc. The mood is overwhelmingly dark, the industrial sounds used generating a repressive and dangerous atmosphere. With the inclusion of either hysterical or serene vocal parts, Marchetti creates a pool of ever-changing emotions. The use of romantic, nearly Caretaker-esque samples only strengthens the sense that Jack Nicholson is on the verge of bringing some of his dead friends back from the grave and putting them all in the most grotesque of ballroom dances. Instead of occupying a haunted hotel, however, they're all going to travel by way of electricity and warp every corner of the industrial world. Pierre Schaeffer's train stations and Keiji Haïno's guitars are equally in danger of being haunted and cursed by these apparitions. At the same time, Marchetti includes some exquisite vocals and gentle silences in his compositions. The sense that this disc is, in reality, cursed increases with each listen. Moving to the second disc will only reveal just how dense and manic the first is.
Both the second and third discs, "Livre Magnétique" and "Livre D'Eos,"are given more room to stretch. Instead of occupying either of these"books" with a spattering of very short pieces, both contain a seriesof longer compositions that reflect more than attack. The inclusion ofrobotic voices over the duration of the remaining music instills astrong sense of narrative omnipresence. Both "Saturne" and "VisionsesNocturnae" on the second disc contain robotic conversations thatinclude the composers name and, supposedly, his own explanation for thework he does. Not only does this put the music in an immediateproximity to the listener, but it bestows a sense of purpose,interrupting what might be considered a purely abstract collection andinterjecting cause and effect or even history into the project. Therobot asks questions like "Do you like my music?" and situates therecordings by addressing them as "modern." It's an almost comicalmoment considering much of what Marchetti does is rooted in a past thatmay seem more distant than it really is. All the while an exquisitedrone passes by in the background with only the most subtle ofthunderous rumblings interrupting it. Piano, static, radio signals, andmarching bands all press together and by the end it feels as thoughMarchetti has opened the temple of his body and invited everyone insidefor the remainder of the show. It's a stunning moment where the artistand the observer switch places, where the artist is forced to addressthe fact that he has an audience that he must listen to and understandas an artistic group. The artist can, after all, only compose to theextent that he is hindered by other, perhaps invisible factors. Anaudience is a perfect example of this kind of censorship and it seemsto me that Marchetti is aware of that.
The final disc is my favorite; it is a sprawling work composed primarily of two compositions. The atmosphere is nocturnal, slow, and organic. "Penombra" features guitar and percussion as well as some seductive, near-operatic vocals, but is also satisfyingly abstract, floating hazily in the distance and slowly releasing the pressure that was built over the previous 40 minutes or so. It is amazingly beautiful and strikes me as the most musical piece in the collection. By the end of the disc, Marchetti has traveled from the dense, layered affairs that were characteristic of many of the earliest experimental recordings, to the open and free compositions that typify the work of many drone artists and other sound collage enthusiasts. "L'incendie" closes everything with the ringing bells of a church, the movement of ideas, information, fears, and problems passing below its incessant vibration. The piece seems to ring on forever, the inclusion of screams, radio interference, and other strange sounds only increasing the power of its hum. Marchetti affects this change subtly, allowing it to occur slowly, almost to the extent that it is unnoticeable. The melodic phrases that appear on the final disc seem to chart the end of abstract composition, but do not rob it of its grandeur and its ability to travel through time and reveal the music that is the world. On the other hand, perhaps these pieces reveal that everything is essentially musique concrète. All the music of the world has, in one way or another, been influenced by sounds that already existed. Composers simply structured them according to what they had available. Compositions are often written before they are expressed in sound, but perhaps sounds has always been there before the composition. There is no escaping the world as music.
There are very few boxed sets, much less records, that seem as well thought out as this one does. There are very few abstract recordings impressing me anymore, their weight and power seemingly fading away due to over saturation. Marchetti, however, has invigorated my belief in this medium and its ability to remind the listener that music is more than a product or a way to pass some time in an entertaining fashion. Music is ultimately an art and art ultimately informs, challenges, and provokes. There can be little doubt of that after listening to Red Dust. It strips the musical world of barcodes, FBI warnings, and greedy punks, and places music firmly in the realm of the listener's ears and mind. There are 300 copies of this collection available from Crouton and they are not asking a lot for it. This is highly recommended, as both a cerebral experience and a musical one.
There’s still something about split seven-inches that carry a buzz of discovery. It’s even better when both acts follow dissimilar visions instead of the label going for the safe option of similar sounding acts.
Lachrymose One comes over like a mash-up of twisty moody art guitar and palm-on-ear folk singing. These twin vocals (both from the band’s core member Richard Mark Warren) move from hospitable harmonies work to confusingly singing different lines / words with the same melodies alongside each other. It’s this mix that makes the song more than just a catchy splintered choppy riffed noisy missive. A punchy finale after the building peals and worn-out lyrics loses blood into a receding buzzing ending. Lachrymose may mean ‘inclined to weep’ but it’s the flipside that’s more likely to cause heartbreak.
The now defunct Sansava (who have since metamorphosed into the ache fest solo project Summer Night Air) offer a criminally brief two-and-a-half minute untitled piece. The understated soft liquid guitar lines give the song a kind of weightless tuneage that unfolds as it progresses. I don’t even think that the word exquisite would be an exaggeration in this case. The brushed drums sound washed out and remote and the slight echo make everything seem like its curling awake in smoke. The temptation to broaden this song by stretching it into a lengthier gorgeous less populated wasteland must have been overwhelming. As satisfying as it is, it niggles that it runs so short, but it’s not enough to spoil what of the track there is.
If it was 20 years earlier, an album like this wouldn't havesurprised anybody by popping up on Paisley Park Records, as it's gotsome sort of fragile white soul that Prince seemed to frequently chase and salivate over,but the fact that it's been released on Temporary Residence, a labelknown more for instrumental guy-rock, is a bit of a surprise.
Caroline Lufkin,born and raised in Japan, educated in Boston, now residing inCalifornia, has assembled a talented supporting cast of what seems likepeople from numerous places to make her recordings complete. Theinstrumentation is fantastic, with lush strings, faint guitar, piano,and unique beats. I'm in two worlds sometimes, however, as her talent as a singer and writer isundeniable, and the delivery is delicate and clearly sincere, it gets a littlesickeningly sweet sometimes, with "too cute" sugary vocals that border ongrating and lyrics that are, at times, disappointingly sophomoric.
"Where's My Love," the preceeding single released last year is theperfect introduction to her music, as it's pleasant, pretty, sweet asthe icing on a birthay cake, and is cute enough to fall in love with,and the critics spoke up last year about it. It's the album's opener,however, "Bicycle," a blurry childhood memory, that's quirky enough tomake her an original, as it's an unpredictable story about chasing aboy down the street and recalling only the bicycle and not his face.The more upbeat songs like "Everylittlething," with its very DepecheMode sounding keyboard bassline, will be a fave amongst the Morr Musicfans, while I can see a song like "All I Need" becoming one of those'our song' moments for a college student love affair after beingfeatured on the OC.
I love the almost Minnie Ripperton-esque performance on "I'll LeaveMy Heart Behind," (hey that's not a bad thing at all, I love popmusic). I could, however, personally deal with less repetition ofuninspirational lyrics on songs like "Drove Me to the Wall" ("you drove me to the wall / I put my car in stall") and the album closer, "Winter" ("if we hold onto each other life would be so sweet / if we hold onto each other life would be complete"),as I prefer my pop a little edgier. (And despite the lyrics on herwebsite, I think it sounds like she's singing the opposite by singing"wouldn't" instead of "would.") Regardless, I'm positive thatpopularity is inevitable for Caroline, as she's talented enough with asound that can win the hearts of many.
Pressed on gold vinyl and packaged in a black sleeve with gold print depicting Medieval interpretations of the apocalypse, Angel Coma looks like it’s going to be heavy. Each side contains a single, long track, one by each band. Both tracks were recorded with the current lineups from the bands; Sunn O))) including vocals via Xasthur and noise provided by John Wiese and Oren Ambarchi; Earth being the Hex lineup of Carlson and Davies plus three.
“A Plague of Angels” by Earth is previously available on the recent live album Live Hex but this studio version is a different take on it. The live version was very sparse with just three players on it. This studio version is fleshed out with Steve Moore on trumpet and mellotron and Randall Dunn on low frequency oscillator. The additional instrumentation adds a lot to the piece. It’s a pity this wasn’t recorded in time for the Hex album as it would have been a mighty addition to it.
The contribution from Sunn O))) was harder to get into. It is almost radical for them in that there is hardly any bass present in the song. It sounds thin, like radio static through cheap speakers. Xasthur’s vocals sound as chilling as ever but there was something missing from his performance. I think I had expectations of their track being in the same vein as the Black One album but “Coma Mirror” is a departure from that sound. In time I think it will become a favourite but at this point in time I’m not feeling it. What I did like about this track is that it works better as a tribute to black metal than Black One did. The thinness captured that Norwegian iciness that is present on early recordings by Burzum and Mayhem, the low fidelity recordings being one of the defining features of classic black metal.
What Angel Coma shows best is how much these once very similar groups have diverged in recent years. Although always present in their arsenal, Sunn O))) are exploring more the atmospheres and tones that electronics beyond the guitar open up and less on THE RIFF. Earth on the other hand have embraced this new country style and this track shows that Hex is not a once off blip in their back catalogue. Carlson is getting better at constructing these powerful, minimalist tracks and I hope that he sticks to this sound for at least another album.
No samples thanks to this being a vinyl only release, apologies!
It's been written that this ground has been walked on before, but such a statement is an ignorant one that fails to acknowledge the finer moments of Chihei Hatakeyama's work. These recordings are anything but common, exhibiting an unusual attention to detail that surpasses the efforts of many like-minded musicians. Hatakeyama's work practically defines how musicality and expressionism can work well together.
Hatakeyama has worked with the computer-centered duo Opitope prior to this release on Kranky; his dedication to processed sound shines through on Minima Moralia, but so does his appreciation for music. Where so many electro-acoustic projects find themselves meandering about in fields of half-melodic, atonal, completely abstract songs, Hatakeyama's music openly accepts melodic majesty and organic growth. Each of his seven songs soar on the back of glimmering sounds processed to oblivion and back, but each of them rely on the tiny movements of smaller, more important sounds. It is as if Hatakeyama's drones are merely a background for the microscopic movements that caress each song. That is not to be mistaken for a comment that suggests his drones are unimportant, but it is an observation that suggests Hatakeyama loves the small details more than anything else.
The music is certainly serene, exuding a calm that no ambient project I've ever heard as ever succeeded in realizing. The music, although minimal in nature, is entirely active, brimming over with the pulse of plucked guitars and emotive violin parts. "Swaying Curtain in the Window" flows forward gently and uninterrupted for a short period of time, but then the chime of guitars enters; every phrase contains a recognizable rhythm and a steady hand that guides them through loops and corkscrews. The interaction of these guitars is imperative to the track and Hatakeyama handles their mingling expertly. It's an addictively serene moment on the record and one that is repeated, in various ways, throughout the album. Hatakeyama isn't interested in putting anyone to sleep, his compositions are far too lively for that. It's this liveliness that gives the record its serene qualities, not the absence of movement or a static property.
Throughout each of the seven tracks, Hatakeyama drifts between the subconscious and the conscious, between the surreal and the alert. While some tracks revel in small percussive chirps or simple additions, others work because of their sudden surprises. "Inside of the Pocket" features a lovely melody on violin that appears virtually out of nowhere. Despite its sudden entry into the music, the simple appeal it brings to the music makes sense and does not interrupt what themes Hatakeyama had built up to that point. Hatakeyama builds the mood over the entire album incredibly well, but he manages to keep everything fresh by executing the element of surprise continually throughout the record. There may be a minimum of sources on Minima Moralia, but the music is broad, full of life, and constantly expanding from beginning to end. Nobody has covered ground quite like this before.