Tigerbeat 6
It's surprising how little attention has been drawn to the parallelsthat exist between electronic music and lounge/exotica music. Musiciansworking in both genres often focus on creating a mood rather than onwriting songs. Much electronic music also shares the bouncy, cartoonishquality of lounge music. While many modern electronic albums could becalled "percussion" albums, it is rare that an artist actually makes adirect reference to the percussion albums that were so popular in thelate 1950's and 1960's that they actually comprised a genre of theirown. Rather than sounding as if he has raided dollar bins at thriftstores to find cool records to sample from, Percussionsshows that Charles Peirce (End) is a true enthusiast of exotica andlounge music. These 12 short tracks (each of the six titles refers totwo consecutive tracks) fuse samples of all kinds of percussioninstruments (and some brass instruments and voices) with digitalmanipulation. The effects are usually used subtly and enhance thepercussion, bringing the lounge music genre up to date. This isespecially effective during "Go", in which bongo rolls have only aslight digital edge to their sound. Rather than manipulating the sourcesounds beyond recognition, Peirce has made familiar sounds seemslightly askew. Percussions features the intricate beatprogramming that is integral to Peirce's sound, but juxtaposes it withxylophone, harp, and various drums. Although mock-1960's cover art hastruly been overused, this is one case in which that style of artworkactually complements the music. It's a lot more appropriate here thanwhen The Smithereens used a "Living Stereo" logo on a CD from 1994. Percussionssounds more like a tribute to an era than an exploitation of it. One ofits main strengths is that it reminds us that electronic music can befun. While many electronic producers take themselves too seriously,Peirce is not afraid to make fun of the genre and of himself, asevidenced by the vocal sample "Well, let's all get together and stealeach others songs" heard in "Music By Numbers." Percussionshighlights the similarities between lounge music and modern electronicmusic, while not sounding like a stylish genre exercise. While loungemusic samples were one aspect of his 2004 Ipecac CD The Sounds of Disaster, it's nice to hear Peirce fully realize a project focusing on this aspect of his sound.
It's surprising how little attention has been drawn to the parallelsthat exist between electronic music and lounge/exotica music. Musiciansworking in both genres often focus on creating a mood rather than onwriting songs. Much electronic music also shares the bouncy, cartoonishquality of lounge music. While many modern electronic albums could becalled "percussion" albums, it is rare that an artist actually makes adirect reference to the percussion albums that were so popular in thelate 1950's and 1960's that they actually comprised a genre of theirown. Rather than sounding as if he has raided dollar bins at thriftstores to find cool records to sample from, Percussionsshows that Charles Peirce (End) is a true enthusiast of exotica andlounge music. These 12 short tracks (each of the six titles refers totwo consecutive tracks) fuse samples of all kinds of percussioninstruments (and some brass instruments and voices) with digitalmanipulation. The effects are usually used subtly and enhance thepercussion, bringing the lounge music genre up to date. This isespecially effective during "Go", in which bongo rolls have only aslight digital edge to their sound. Rather than manipulating the sourcesounds beyond recognition, Peirce has made familiar sounds seemslightly askew. Percussions features the intricate beatprogramming that is integral to Peirce's sound, but juxtaposes it withxylophone, harp, and various drums. Although mock-1960's cover art hastruly been overused, this is one case in which that style of artworkactually complements the music. It's a lot more appropriate here thanwhen The Smithereens used a "Living Stereo" logo on a CD from 1994. Percussionssounds more like a tribute to an era than an exploitation of it. One ofits main strengths is that it reminds us that electronic music can befun. While many electronic producers take themselves too seriously,Peirce is not afraid to make fun of the genre and of himself, asevidenced by the vocal sample "Well, let's all get together and stealeach others songs" heard in "Music By Numbers." Percussionshighlights the similarities between lounge music and modern electronicmusic, while not sounding like a stylish genre exercise. While loungemusic samples were one aspect of his 2004 Ipecac CD The Sounds of Disaster, it's nice to hear Peirce fully realize a project focusing on this aspect of his sound. 
In 1986 the Virgin Prunes released The Moon Looked Down and Laughed, an album that turned out to be the band's swan song. (The group released a collection of outtakes and rare tracks later that year, but never again entered the studio.) Considered in context with the rest of the Prunes' albums reissued by Mute, The Moon was clearly a concerted attempt at a much more commercial sound than anything the band had previously attempted.
To round out their ongoing series of Cabaret Voltaire reissues, Mute has released Doublevision Present Cabaret Voltaire
on DVD. Originally issued through Factory in 1984, this DVD is
identical to the original VHS release: the same 14 videos in the exact
same sequence. It's a shame they couldn't find something extra to slap
onto the digital version, but it's still a welcome reissue for those
who have no patience for the deterioration of their VHS collection.
Doublevision was a communications company founded by Kirk, Mallinder
and Paul Smith in 1982, with the express purpose of releasing
music-based video for an affordable price, eventually transforming it
into one of the first explicitly audiovisual record labels. This is not
surprising for Cab Volt, who were always two steps ahead of their
contemporaries, it seems. For these 14 videos, Cabaret Voltaire
utilized nascent video editing technology, splicing together television
clips, performance videos and archival film footage, gluing it all
together with low-tech early video effects. The interesting thing about
watching these videos in 2004 is that the primitive video techniques,
which probably seemed piss-poor at the time of their release, now play
into the current avant-garde video art obsession with early 1980's low
budget pirate video aesthetic. 20 years on, this collection of random
video cut-ups and ugly, jagged editing techniques seems positively
vanguard. The tracks presented are from the finest period Cabaret
Voltaire: "Diskono," "Obsession," "Nag Nag Nag," and "Seconds Too
Late," among others, are represented. Televised nature and anthropology
programs are intercut with images of war, death and destruction from
new broadcasts. Clips of Leni Riefenstahl films and videos or surgeries
rub shoulders with grainy, decayed video images superimposed over each
other in a weird Burroughsian collage of overlapping transmissions,
giving rise to a mysterious "third mind" of accidental coincidences and
synchronicities. As experimental video, it all works amazingly well. As
music videos, the effect is somewhat more muted, as the edits often out
of sync with the beat structures of the music. Still, it would be hard
to imagine a more appropriate visual accompaniment to Cabaret
Voltaire's abrasive, subterranean, low-fidelity electronic music.
I find it odd that this collection is named Anthology,even though it consists of previously unreleased tracks. The onlytracks on this disc that were previously released surfaced onlong-deleted cassettes issued on obscure European labels. To me, theterm "anthology" denotes a representative collection documenting anartist's career, drawn from works previously available. I am perplexedat the claim that this collection of outtakes, live tracks and othermarginalia might constitute a proper documentation of the artist'scareer. Not nearly as perplexed, though, as when I attempt to ponderwho could possibly be interested enough in Vidna Obmana's music to havekept this artist afloat for the past two decades. Mr. Obmana ascribesto that common viewpoint that the term "ambient" must be synonymouswith "boring," creating album after unremarkable album filled to thebrim with dull New Age keyboards, drones and loops, with the occasionalforay into insulting ethnic plagiarism. This collection was recentlyreleased on the eternally lame Projekt, whose only standards fordeciding what their label will release appears to be directly dependanton how utterly, excruciatingly dull the music is. The tracks on thisanthology run the gamut from a mildly uninteresting retread ofThrobbing Gristle ("Ecstasy") to a violently uninteresting rip-off ofCoil ("Soul Dislocation"). In between is lots of fodder for NPR's Hearts of Space,Vidna Obmana thoughtfully providing crossfaded transitions from eachtrack to the next, so that the whole 72 minutes feels like one long,homogenized puddle of rancid fairy spooge. This music might work quitewell as a soundtrack for your local coven's next drawing down of themoon ceremony, or it might be perfect muzak for the waiting room ofyour local aura-reading and colonics center, but it fails in everyother sense. It blunts and smooths the edges off any sound that mightjar the listener out of sleepy complacence, leaving only anundifferentiated, quivering mass of odorless, flavorless gelatin in itswake. Suspended inside the unappetizing Jell-O mold are inedible chunksof musical ideas that might have been interesting had they not beentrapped inside this mess.
It's important to pace a record properly so that it doesn't becomestiff and monotonous. Peter Maybury begins his twenty-three minuteopener with a steady, meandering, and almost viscous series of soundsall seperated from eachother and mostly melodic. The charm of the pianoplaying and the babbling computer-speak all hint that this is going tobe a slow ride through electronic composition; everything will dependon how well the sounds are arranged in relation to eachother. Not muchhappens though and the sounds don't interact with eachother in anyinteresting manner. There are moments of unattenuated beauty, but thealbum simply never changes. To make matters worse, I tend to think thatopen-ended albums like this need some kind of unique palette, somethingakin to a unique signature. Many of the songs on these five songs soundfar too familiar, as though they've become parts of an electronic bankavailable to everyone who has a computer and a desire to move varioussamples around eachother. After about ten minutes of listening to"Rain" a second time, I was feeling quite anxious to move on. Thefour-part "A Leaf Spiral" doesn't provide anything in the way ofrelief, though. They're very much a "more of the same" series of songsand don't manage to make anything sound or feel any more exciting. Ilove lush soundscapes and I enjoy relaxing to very minimal-type music,but this just doesn't cut it. The sounds that were picked forutilization are lame at times and there's no emotional or visualcontent. In some ways the rather dull album art says everythig thatneeds to be said about this album. 
You Hold the World Like a Gun is Texan Greg Reynaud's selfdescribed "actualization of maximum potential." Loosely translated,that means it's the results of his first solo foray into the studioafter doing beats as a part of electropop outfit Lovetron and spaceyboombap minstrels The Town Drunks. So, now that his potential isactualized—and Reynaud has already proven he does indeed hold promisingpotential as a producer—he presents a dense, mysterious five track,nineteen-minute EP that thumps and pounds its way from track to track,occasionally pausing to reflect but nevertheless holding a boot to yourthroat and not letting go until it's done. Among the slick break beatsand crashing hi hats Reynaud flawlessly slips in the obligatoryotherwise-out-of-place sample, whether it be a few guitar chords, apiano key, a jazz break or even a Darth Vader inhale/exhale.Ostensibly, the EP is a concept album concerning the current Americanpolitical situation, a fact that isn't necessarily clear with a listenand not much clearer when perusing the liner notes. Still, what is aknown known (thank you, Department of Defense) is that Reynaud knowswhat he's doing, and perhaps there is some truth to that whole"actualization of potential" line. Released from the bounds that comewith working with other musicians, Reynaud is able to let hismultitalented production skills roam free, with compelling results.Most impressive, however, is his ability to tread the thin line betweenimprovisation and complete anarchy. His music wanders, but neveraimlessly. He is able to make out of what might be an unrecognizablemishmash with another producer into a thrilling blend of surprisinglyorchestrated adrenaline-laced sound.
After several years as a member of the Chicago UndergroundDuo/Trio/Quartet/Orchestra, along with several recordings as acompetent and inventive sideman, drummer Chad Taylor has penned andrecorded a disc's worth of tunes under the name Active Ingredients. Attimes a sextet featuring Underground partner Rob Mazurek on cornet andSteve Swell (William Parker/Baron Down) on trombone, it's easy to viewTitrationas a free jazz recording due to the lack of any chordal instrumentsoutlining progressions and form. As a leader, Taylor's unique,polyrhythmic drive and fluid performance are central, although this isnot your stereotypical drummer record. His approach and outputon the kit is dynamic and very musical, which is not surprising as he'dbeen a classical guitarist in his youth; the same musical sensibilitycomes through in his compositions. "Song For Dyani" opens withblistering latin rhythms and busy, staccato upright bass laying thefoundation for unison horns to state the sweet and slurring melodybefore breaking off for both individual and simultaneous soloing. Thelightning fast cross stick and tom fills kicking off "Slate" areaugmented by percussionist Avreeayl Ra's fills to convey a true Africanensemble feel for saxophone shrills and trills play off. Bassist TomAbbs' melodic lines set things in motion off the top of "ModernMythology" which in turn supports a brief big band ensemble motifbefore stripping down for sax soloing an unison crazy-go-nutsexplorations. Taylor's use of bare hands, mallets and sticks on hissolo performance "Dependent Origination" convey several different tonesand textures. Having spent a great deal of time listening to him onseveral recordings and seeing him in performance on several occasions,it's safe to say that although spontaneity figures heavily in such asituation, his ability to convey melodic ideas and structure isuncanny. The group assembled on Titration are all competentmusicians and soloists that give strong direction to Taylor's sometimesminimal motifs. The excitement generated in performance for thisrecording has them coloring outside the lines with a free jazzapproach, but without going completely off the page into cacophony.
