Quarterstick
Dreams never end. Savage freedom time has begun in avenues all linedwith trees. Times have been strange. Do you hear her enlightenedlaughter? Another reason to cut off an ear? Maybe not. Blixa Bargeldmused upon beauty in the night sky over Berlin, but decided that noarms would ever be able to stretch wide enough to form an adequategesture to capture beauty. Beauty, he decided, remained in theimpossibilities of the body. Rachel's music is a music of such heavenlybeauty they must be tapped into something primal, way deeper than merechord charts and floating tailed black dots on lines. Their logoincludes a crescent moon emblem, recalling a darkness before dawn or asweet scented flower just beginning to bloom. Jason Noble used to playguitar and holler for those monster bird rockers Rodan, who weresacrificed on the alt-rock altar a little too early. Maybe he cut outthe noble heart of the beast and transported it into a rotating chamberensemble in perfect harmony. He was definitely running on the same lineas me at Shellac's All Tomorrow's Parties. Rachel's enchanted and transfixed that weekend, but Systems / Layers is even more gorgeous than that singular performance suggested. Their last album Significant Otherswas a rare bird - the only time I ever saw it was that weekend. They'vetaken some of the minimal play from that and put it into a moreluscious frame, guilded by a theatrical group called SITI. Rachel'spulled an improvising system known as "The Viewpoint" into their orbitand they seem to have caught a glimpse of the music of the spheres.Rachel's discovered a lot, learning new ways of creating andcommunicating. Singer Shannon Wright helped significantly, singing sucha quietly lost yet deeply hopeful song as ever there was. Peel thelayers of an onion and tears run down, but there are no tears as theleaves of a lettuce fall and cover routine systems of dreary urbanlife, and as they rot let roses and chrysanthemums bloom throughcracked concrete. Rachel's transports me to emerald woodland glades ina primitive dream where words are no longer necessary. There is so muchwarmth and compassion in Rachel's music it could burn away all theimpurity in the blackest heart. To describe this music in the way of aregular review would debase it and spoil it's magic. Then the songbecame alive - so glorious!
Dreams never end. Savage freedom time has begun in avenues all linedwith trees. Times have been strange. Do you hear her enlightenedlaughter? Another reason to cut off an ear? Maybe not. Blixa Bargeldmused upon beauty in the night sky over Berlin, but decided that noarms would ever be able to stretch wide enough to form an adequategesture to capture beauty. Beauty, he decided, remained in theimpossibilities of the body. Rachel's music is a music of such heavenlybeauty they must be tapped into something primal, way deeper than merechord charts and floating tailed black dots on lines. Their logoincludes a crescent moon emblem, recalling a darkness before dawn or asweet scented flower just beginning to bloom. Jason Noble used to playguitar and holler for those monster bird rockers Rodan, who weresacrificed on the alt-rock altar a little too early. Maybe he cut outthe noble heart of the beast and transported it into a rotating chamberensemble in perfect harmony. He was definitely running on the same lineas me at Shellac's All Tomorrow's Parties. Rachel's enchanted and transfixed that weekend, but Systems / Layers is even more gorgeous than that singular performance suggested. Their last album Significant Otherswas a rare bird - the only time I ever saw it was that weekend. They'vetaken some of the minimal play from that and put it into a moreluscious frame, guilded by a theatrical group called SITI. Rachel'spulled an improvising system known as "The Viewpoint" into their orbitand they seem to have caught a glimpse of the music of the spheres.Rachel's discovered a lot, learning new ways of creating andcommunicating. Singer Shannon Wright helped significantly, singing sucha quietly lost yet deeply hopeful song as ever there was. Peel thelayers of an onion and tears run down, but there are no tears as theleaves of a lettuce fall and cover routine systems of dreary urbanlife, and as they rot let roses and chrysanthemums bloom throughcracked concrete. Rachel's transports me to emerald woodland glades ina primitive dream where words are no longer necessary. There is so muchwarmth and compassion in Rachel's music it could burn away all theimpurity in the blackest heart. To describe this music in the way of aregular review would debase it and spoil it's magic. Then the songbecame alive - so glorious! samples:
Like any artist that is this intentionally outlandish and exaggerated,Peaches runs the risk of alienating the critics and audience who onceembraced her. Even I am not entirely certain how much of my fondnessfor her music is attributable to the camp novelty image she cultivatesand how much is actually based on the quality of the music itself. Thechunky, minimal Roland 505 beats and breathy sex-raps that dominated The Teaches of Peacheswere certainly unique, but upon repeated spins the joke wore a littlethin. Peaches makes a bid for continued cult success with herinsolently titled self-produced sophomore album Fatherfucker.The title operates as a provocatively obscene backlash against thefrequent use of the derogatory 'motherfucker' in hip-hop music. The newsongs expand the sound palettea little, trying to embellish the stark asceticism of the first album,but for the most part they retain the energy and brazen sex appeal. Thebrief onslaught of "I Don't Give a?" opens the album, based around alooped sample lifted from Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation," with Peachesrepeatedly assuring us "I don't give a fuck!/I don't give a shit!"Peaches gets back into familiar territory with the sexy, minimalelectro of "I'm The Kinda" spouting off goofy self-aggrandizing lyrics:"I'm the kinda bitch that you wanna get with/Sodom and Gomorrha/Todayand tomorrow". Several of the shortertracks emulate the dumbed-down Detroit sound of Adult., serving aslargely forgettable filler. "Kick It" features a much-vauntedcollaboration with proto-punk legend Iggy Pop, who returns the favorfor Peaches' involvement with his recent Skull Ring album. Themost surprising revelation listening to this trackis that Peaches somehow manages to upstage the venerable Mr. Pop,joyously stomping all over his vocals with repeated howls of "Tear itup/Rip it up/Kick it up.""Shake Yer Dix" is this album's bubblegum anthem, a splendidly idioticcall to arms, or in this case, a call to gonads. "Stuff Me Up" is afavorite of Peaches' recent live shows, a creepy micro-electro trackfeaturing labelmate Taylor Savvy, that contains one of her dirtiestlyrical double-entendres. "Rock n' Roll" utilizes an actual three-piecepunk group for an anarchistic Stooges-style bachannalia. Perhaps Fatherfuckeris just another spoke in her menstrual cycle, and for many the noveltymay have already worn off, but Peaches has created another awesomelylewd platter for all of the like-minded, skittle-diddling perverts thatmake up her peculiar demographic.
EPs are a tough sell. Ounce for ounce, this is probably Jonas Munk'sbest release. It combines all of his best skills in four songs whichnaturally play out with a complete indifference to a 4-6 minuteunwritten guideline for album collections of 8-10 songs. At 24 minutes,it's the perfect amount of time to experiment without wearing out yourwelcome. In addition, it's a good breather from the wealth of outputthat's not been the easiest to keep up with. However, priced as high asit is (and as most EPs are), it'll probably be his least heard. On the(not-so-ironically titled) opener "A Familiar Place," Munk hasn'tstepped far from the sounds and styles of his other output: simple butlush, heavily emotional, slightly pitch-bent synth melodies loop intime with a steady pulse and musical electronic percussion. Both hereand on "Wake," angelic female vocals have been added, but the additionis never oppressive nor distracting from the music. On "StealingThrough," and "Horizon," however, Munk takes a step in removingelements, yanking beats out completely and leaving the former as asimple guitar piece with faint echoes and the latter as a stunning 8½minute gem of bright swelling synths that are as blinding and gorgeousas a setting sun. With this, I look forward to hearing the directionManual moves on to but at the same time, I'm patiently satisfied fornow.
Much like Manual, this EP release follows suit from a notable full-length release also on Morr Music last year. However, the chances taken here almost (but don't quite) work for me. The production is fantastic—the inclusion of cello, other voices, sound effects, and non-traditional instruments is a warm variety to the ingredients. It compliments the music nicely but somehow the songs just don't sound that strong.
Chris Brokaw is known to many as a founding member of Come, and morerecently as a member of Consonant and the New Year, though he hasplayed drums and guitar wherever needed on a number of releases fromPullman to Evan Dando's latest solo effort. Last year he made his solodebut on Red Cities,showing off for the first time his skills at songwriting with hisalready established abilities on guitar. The limited edition Wandering as Wateris the subtle follow-up, part of the Return to Sender series thatshowcases vibrant artists in their rawest form. For Brokaw that meantrecording fifteen songs in one day, played on guitar and tambourine.Some songs are his, some familiar favorites from his Come days, butthey're all fueled by his very quiet and solid musicianship. It's acalm, soothing record in most places, and Brokaw divides it evenly withinstrumental and vocal tracks. Where he has a capable voice, it is onthe tracks where he doesn't sing that Brokaw has the most success. Hisguitar playing is fluid and energetic.The sounds of a small town life escape from the speakers, of simplertimes when all you needed was a nickel at the country store.Considering the minimal percussion, it's also incredible how full thesesongs sound, and for the most part there isn't a flaw to speak of. Onthe songs with vocals, Brokaw stumbles a bit, where his inflections andnotes can warble or even slightly irritate: "My Confidante," with itsopening of "I threw up on the side of the road/Thirty miles from thePoconos," is almost treacherous in every respect, particularly the howlof the chorus. Thus, it almost makes sense that until now Brokaw hasbeen known solely as a musician, and perhaps that's why he excels atthat so well. Here and there, though, the vocals work, like on Come's"Shoot Me First." It's only when he really tries for that note or overemphasizes that the car veers every so slightly into the shoulder.While I think that with a few more releases under his belt, his singingand songwriting will undoubtedly both improve, on repeat listens of Wandering, however, I'll probably just stick to the instrumentals. 
The production team of James Murphy and Tim Goldsworthy has been theobject of some of the most exalted praise that the music press iscapable of bestowing. Their productions and remixes as The DFA and thestring of releases on the DFA label have been so hyped and oversoldthat it's rather hard to wade through all of the hyperbole and justenjoy the music, which is unfortunate, because more often than not itis extraordinary. Building their reputation on a series of incredible12" releases by the new wave of post-punk and mutant disco-influencedgroups such as The Rapture, The Juan Maclean and LCD Soundsystem, theyhave also branched out into decidedly more experimental territories,releasing a full-length LP and a 12" single by the psychedelicnoise-metal improvisers Black Dice. Tracking down their sought-afterreleases has been a little difficult since the explosion of pressattention, so the idea of a CD collecting their 12" output is anappealing proposition. Unfortunately, DFA's Compilation #1seriously jumps the shark, as it is far from a complete collection,with glaring omissions and some annoying inclusions. For a relativelyyoung label that has released only seven singles, you'd think that theywould be able to include all seven tracks and even b-sides on thiscollection. However, they omit almost all of the b-sides (except forthe mysterious inclusion of The Rapture's b-side "Silent Morning"), andbizarrely choose to include an incongruous 15-minute noise track fromBlack Dice's Beaches and Canyons LP. Plus, the disc is short atonly about 60 minutes. If they had removed the extraneous Black Dicetrack and used up the rest of the space on the disc, they could haveincluded The Rapture's new "Killing" single, the killer LCD Soundsystemb-side "Beat Connection," the hallucinatory EYE remix of Black Dice's"Endless Happiness," and maybe even the Morgan Geist remix of TheRapture's "House of Jealous Lovers." Instead, we have a disc made up ofmost (not all) of the a-sides, and two rather bizarre songs thatshouldn't be included. I have no complaint with the music, however. TheJuan Maclean's dirty, bottom-heavy electro-disco tracks are infectiousand charming, without being too heavy-handedly retro. LCD Soundsystem's"Losing My Edge," a hilarious minimal electro ode to hipper-than-thouindie cred, sounds as great as ever. The Rapture's "House of JealousLovers" is still one of the best raw, energetic dance-punk songs youcould hope to hear on a crowded dance floor. Black Dice's primitivemetal-scrapings and This Heat-style abrasive madness make "ConeToaster" a terrific avant-rock side. However, the distinguishing musicconsumer is much better off staying away from this woefully incomplete"compilation", and instead trying to track down the original 12"releases, which boast amazing b-sides, remixes and the same level ofaudio fidelity. The DFA's Compilation #1 is, sadly, a missed opportunity.
It was a shock to me to find out that this was recorded live. Thearchitecture of the whole album is so well constructed that I was sureit was a studio album when I first listened to it. After payingattention to the liner notes, I realized that this was all done as aperformance without the help of editing. The music itself is a seriesof background drones recalling the feeling of winds blowing across avast desert, ominous hums that, for some reason, remind me ofstormtroopers and weaponry approaching over the horizon, and variousfound sounds tossed about as if in a blender. Here and there a guitarplucks some melodic but repetitive notes and builds a tension alreadypresent to a nice crescendo. The various sounds that cut into thewavering background range from the aquatic and metallic to the sci-fiand terrestrial. What's interesting is that after repeated listens theybegin to sound like melodies of noise. Either this is the result oflucky improvisation or it was a well-planned effect. In either case,there's something fairly impressive about the way these sounds aremanipulated and used. Backwards flutes and brief bursts of femalevoices either singing or talking cut into metallic chunks being groundtogether. The tension between these two samples resolves itself intothe sound of car horns pitched and extended creating a harmony betweenthe crunchy sounds of natural resources and the resonance of musicalelements. The two tracks here are quite long and can have someuneventful stretches but these are usually brief and do little todistract from the captivating moments. Did I mention that much of whatis featured here is done on turntables? I'm not quite sure how thesounds on this record were achieved by turntables and I doubt that theyweren't filtered and disturbed live by Pure and Martin Siewert butthere's really no indication that anything on this record was made withthe help of vinyl. The mystery, the music, the noise, and the overallatmosphere on Just In Case... are excellent and worth coming back to again and again because each listen brings out something new. 
Two enigmatic men from the centre of Britain want to take you on amagical mystery tour. Imagine sitting on a train. As it pulls out ofthe grimey station the motion rocks you half asleep, into thatsemi-dream state where shifting realities collide and merge. A chime, adrone and an accelerating heartbeat cross the tracks. The ultimatedestination is bright light, but the journey glitters, as you passrolling hills and emerald forests, out into the wasteland where the sunis blinding and obscures vision. The name Aurelie was chosen for thistrip due to its phonetic beauty, and since beauty is hard to describeorally and lies in the eye, it has to be heard aurally. Make no mistakethis is beautiful music, finding hope in the loss of each passinglandscape. This trip is the perfect one to take out of the crowded citythat inspired labelmate Akatombo. Aurelie are a much more delicate yetequally dreamy proposition, and the final dronesongs on Trace Elements almost lead into the opening chimes of Desde Que Naci.Swim, run by Colin Newman of Wire and Malka Spigel of the recentlyreformed Minimal Compact, now has such a strong roster with anover-riding future music quality aesthetic that it'd be no joke to hailthem as the un-UK's finest record label. Whilst Aurelie are certainlyout there dreaming their own pure visions, there is some room forcomparison with Colin and Malka's mighty Immersion duo, and maybefellow middle Englanders Magnetophone. Aurelie is however more subtlethen either, but it would be a mistake to call this ambient or chillout because Aurelie's warmth and drive are all too human. Once againSwim have given us music beyond genre boundaries, from a time thatwasn't a time.
What a mess! Pig entrails and mash-ups? Demented children and piracy?Who's going to clean up this sticky filth? Certainly not me! To attemptto review a compilation of forty six tracks from various artists (whoaren't all V/Vm alter-egos) related to and enjoyed by V/Vm over twocompact discs is an exercise in futility. According to the V/Vmwebsite, contributions have come from all over the world, andconsidering the eclecticism displayed by these selections, I'm notsurprised in the slightest. Setting the tone for this absurd andsometimes entertaining collection is the goofy title track, performedby The Krankies, who are purportedly a "sick Scottish comedy duo".Unfortunately, this awkward children's song is a highlight on thisuneven compilation. Somewhat dull rock music bastardizations and blandnoisescapes are served here in heaping portions by several no-name actsprobably better off being unknown. The only tracks here that get myattention and praise are the pop and rap bootleg mixes. Toecutter's"DMX On Tick" takes the gruff rapper's standard shouts and turns theminto a glitchy freakout. Skkatter thrashes the BT-produced 'NSYNC track"Dirty Pop" with potent DSP fuckery. I would be remiss in my duties asa contributor to this fine publication if I did not mention KevinBlechdom's tribute to our fair-skinned editor-in-chief Jon Whitney."Jon Whitney Houston" is a touching, sentimental tribute to the man wecall Mom, a wonderful cover of "I Will Always Love You" sung word forword. All gushing aside, this really is an iffy release from the V/Vmcamp. After their tributes to love, Aphex Twin, and The Shining, Iexpect more from this shapeless collective of mad hatters and supergoons.
Earlier this year Autechre curated the fifth All Tomorrow's Parties festival, and of that bounty comes this, actually the fourth ATP compilation. All Tomorrow's Parties comps have never been more than glorified mixtapes ("ultimate" mixtapes according to Thurston Moore), thoughtfully scratching the surface of one of the best large-scale concert series; Autechre's volume, though, is the first with potential to transcend its posterity-building, afterthought status, becoming an (almost) essential collection.
