I don't understand how Erik Carlson has managed to stay so woefully underappreciated and low-profile for so long, as he has a very distinctive and appealing aesthetic.  Also, he has recently been largely infallible quality-wise. That hot streak continues here: wisely sticking closely to the sound he intermittently perfected with 2009's excellent Charmed Birds Against Sorcery, Carlson has delivered yet another impressive album of spidery, shimmering beauty.  It could benefit from a bit more bite though.
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This album is very deceptively packaged and presented, but in the best way possible: the tame cover art and the word "folk" did nothing at all to prepare me for the extremely fun and quirky pseudo-surf gems within.  Of course, many of these pieces were originally folk songs, but they have been so jazzed-up with kitschy organs and twangy, tremelo-happy guitars as to make that term a wildly misleading understatement. Curator Stuart Ellis has assembled an improbable monster of a compilation.
Perhaps uniquely, Basil Kirchin’s appreciators include Broadcast, Coil, Sean Connery, Elizabeth Taylor, Brian Eno, and Nurse With Wound. Included here is music from his first film score Primitive London (1965) and the gangland movie The Freelance (1971). Kirchin was a pioneering twentieth-century master of texture and mood. His inventive, multifaceted music still sounds light yet off-kilter, eerie yet peaceful, both futuristic and nostalgic.
The first offering in four years from folk-rockjourneyman David Berman could easily have become a messy affair. Afteryears of booze, drugs, depression, and more booze, it seemed Berman waspoised to make the all important recovery record. It's a familiar one—it reeks of sorrow, redemption, and rehab—but Bermanknows he’s better than that, and as a result he’s peppered the newSilver Jews record with strange but brilliantly told tales of boozers,black Santa Clauses, and airport bartenders.
It's an attractive package on the most base level. The liner notes claim, "Desire is the root of all suffering," and the artwork depicts a woman, possibly a prostitute, in some form of bondage. Paired with the rather bleak photographs of nondescript locales, the entire album screams before it ever begins playing. This stuff is vile: the album is dirty, absolutely filthy, and exciting.
Like the 23Five label's recent success, Variable Resistance: Ten Hours of Sound from Australia, this new two-disc compilation from Preservation seeks to document a burgeoning sound art/experimental electronic scene among Australian musicians. "Scene," however, may be inappropriate given the variety available here. Motion: Movement in Australian Sound does distinguish itself by veering (slightly) away from headier sound art pieces into a more repeated-listener-friendly zone.
Vienna's Vegetable Orchestra is one of only two vegetable musicprojects worldwide. They make music using only instruments crafted outof vegetables and various kitchen appliances. No sampling or looping isinvolved, and all songs are composed for live performance, the soundsgathered by what must be some of the best contact microphones in theworld. The group protests that this is no "just-for-fun project," andsuch a claim is easy to believe after listening to this, their secondfull-length release. Trying to decide just how this record, soundinglike a nice enough mix of spacious glitch-tronica and the windblown,percussive sound of early Kraftwerk, was rended from curiously alteredradishes, carrots, and eggplant, is at least a unique experience. Theorchestra's stated goal is "the interpretation and reconstruction ofelectronic music with organic means," the first part of which is anastounding achievement. With the aid of microphones alone, anincredible range of drone, crackle, and even straight noise travels theshort distance from vegetable to ear. They do house; they do dub; hell,they even cover Kraftwerk's "Radioactivity" with an amazing amount ofclarity. The large number of sounds and reference points within Automatekeep the novelty cooking for far longer than one would expect. Thealbum falters, however, in accomplishing the "reconstruction" proposedin its concept. True, the element of surprise enters first as therealization sets in that these are all vegetable sounds, then againwhen it's clear that none of the sounds have been run through computersor looped. But the music, taken alone, is nothing shocking. Somestrange, noticeably unique sounds emerge every now and then throughout Automate,but no archly organic vibe is launched. In a time when computers canreconstruct and often augment any sound under the sun, vegetables thatmerely replicate computer noise, and do so somewhat derivatively, failto make a lasting impression. That said, the Vegetable Orchestra'sfirst album may not be directed at a reinterpretation of electronicmusic, and therefore may not find the same shortcomings as itssuccessor. Also, the orchestra's bimonthly performances are surelyspectacles to be reckoned with; at the end of the show, the group's ownchef cooks the instruments into a soup that is shared with theaudience!
Those familiar with Electrelane may not recognize them now. Wherebefore they were apt to formulate long, dire instrumentals with murkybass, flamboyant keyboards, and fuzz guitar, these four ladies fromBrighton have apparently decided that less can be more, provided that the energy is right. On Paradeis a sample of what's to come from the band on their debut full-lengthon Too Pure, and has an intriguing concept given their past. Threesongs weighing it at a little past eight minutes is a little shocking.The Bruce Springsteen cover ups the oddity level, though they've playedit live in the past with good notices. But the punk-injected soundtakes the taco, as the Electrelane of before has been replaced by thebastard daughter of Snowpony and Sleater-Kinney (recent tourmates =coincidence?). At any rate, it's a fairly by-the-numbers EP: new soundon track one, strangely appealing though out of character cover ontrack two, and a more traditional-sounding (read: instrumental) trackthree to prove to fans they haven't completely lost their minds. It'sfairly mediocre, but not in that it-almost-stinks kind of way. It'sjust nothing all that special. Verity Susman has that husky JohnetteNapolitano quality in her voice that always sounds like it can't domuch more than it is right now. The music is catchy and has a certainulterior groove to speak of, but at the end of the day I'm left wantingto give it all the old heave-ho on days when I want to trade in old CDsfor new at my local. The jury's not out so far that I wouldn't listento the forthcoming debut, but I'm suspect nonetheless. 
Tribute albums can often be enlightening. They can also beexcruciating. It can be illuminating to hear differing interpretationsof a songwriter's back catalog. A cover version can give you a freshperspective on a familiar song, or place it in a new musical contextthat may lend itself brilliantly to the original material. In the past,I've heard wonderful collections of artists interpreting the songs ofsinger-songwriters Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits and Lee Hazlewood. The Bells Shall Sound Forevercollects 15 tracks from 15 artists, paying tribute to the songs ofCurrent 93. From the beginning this project is doomed. David Tibet'swork as Current 93 is so irredeemably idiosyncratic, and is performedand produced in such a specific way, that any reinterpretationnecessarily runs the risk of diluting the meaning and power of theoriginal material. Current 93 albums do not contain songs; they containstanzas. Each album is a poetic cycle, weaving together Tibet's musingson Christ, cats and apocalypse with sparse and evocative soundsettings. The very idea of isolating a track and reinterpreting itseems, on the surface, to be a ridiculous venture. Tibet's dramaticspoken-word vocals, Michael Cashmore's haunting instrumental backdropsand Steven Stapleton's mindbending soundscapes and production acumen:all of these elements are vital to the sound of Current 93. David Tibetcan't play any instruments, he can't read or write musical notation andhe can't write a song. Therefore, the idea of covering a Current 93song seems just as pointless as covering a Wesley Willis song. TheEuropean and American artists on Bells are largely obscure,often amateur, with a clear emphasis on bedroom industrial and neo-folkmusicians — people who have had their brains twisted by constantexposure to Sol Invictus records. Sonne Hagal's limp take on "Death ofthe Corn" is made comical by the thick German accent of the singer.Dorien Campbell turns in a capable but unremarkable rendition of "ASadness Song." Vequinox manage to make the already boring "Earth CoversEarth" even more lackluster, sounding like a middle-aged, pot-smokingWiccan couple recording on a four-track in a dusty tool shed in theirbackyard. German industrial band Engelsstaub attempt to transform"Happy Birthday Pigface Christus" into one of those faceless EBM clubtracks. What an outrageously bad idea! Hungary's Cawatana contribute ahilariously corny version of "A Song for Douglas After He's Dead",complete with silly pan flutes and broken English. "Crowleymass" is anembarrassing mess — it's hard to tell what Storm of Capricorn werethinking with this annoying cacophony of multi-tracked vocals and dullCasio keyboards. If you've ever wanted to hear a heartbreakinglybeautiful song turned into utter shit, listen to Der Feuerkreiner'sself-consciously "gothic" reading of "Soft Black Stars." PancreaticAardvarks turn in a seven-minute dark techno track clearly influencedby Coil, but it appears to have nothing in common with the Current 93song that it purports to be a cover of. The tracklisting containsseveral glaring errors, mixing up the order of the tracks 12 through14, which is fine with me because I'm sure I won't be searching forthese songs in the future. I actually liked O Paradis' psychedelicflamenco version of "Calling For Vanished Faces I," if only for theamusement of hearing the lyrics sung in Spanish. Apparently, DavidTibet donated a Louis Wain painting from his personal collection forthe sleeve image. If this means that he is giving his stamp of approvalto this project, I would question his judgment. All I felt afterlistening to The Bells Shall Sound Forever was an overwhelmingdesire to dig out my old Current 93 records and listen to these songsin the proper context. Perhaps that was David Tibet's plan all along. 
