Better Looking Records
After almost becoming another defeat at the hands of the major labels,finally the Jealous Sound release their debut full-length with theirold friends at Better Looking Records. Trust me: if the prevailingrumor about Jive having hold over them is true, it's justificationenough for the increase in darkness and aggression in their overallsound. That's just one area of growth and change brought forth on thisrelease, though, as the band finally delivers on the lofty expectationsbeing thrown about. It seems, actually, that now that Blair Shehan hasa proper band for the project he's settling in just fine to apost-Knapsack indie pop sound. Relentless touring and all that time inrecording limbo gave them the opportunity to create a cohesive and boldgroup of songs. Working with Tim O'Heir, they even found theopportunity to expand their sound, adding touches of keyboards here andthere, as well as some spirited backing vocals that it would be easy tomiss with their live power and Shehan's signature voice. Only onepreviously released song, "Anxious Arms," finds its way on to thealbum, and I honestly prefer the version from their self-titled EP. Allover this release they show the ferocity and keen grasp of melodyaudiences have seen for three years. "Hope For Us" is a call out to thedesperate attention leeches, with a hearty "Kiss me open mouth!" andloud swirled guitars on the chorus. "Naive" and "Does That Make Sense"are three-minute power pop gems, the kind where everyone jumps up anddown at the shows. Slower tempo tracks are sprinkled throughout, withthe six-minute "Recovery Room" showing the most promise, though thedouble-shot of "Guard It Closely" and "For Once in Your Life" with itskeyboard handclaps hold up the middle of the record quite well. One ofthe finest moments, though, is the keyboard drive of "The Fold Out"with its haunting "oohs" and freight train final minute. There's windin their sails, they've lasted this far, and now they're ready to takeover the world. And I'm ready and willing to let them.
After almost becoming another defeat at the hands of the major labels,finally the Jealous Sound release their debut full-length with theirold friends at Better Looking Records. Trust me: if the prevailingrumor about Jive having hold over them is true, it's justificationenough for the increase in darkness and aggression in their overallsound. That's just one area of growth and change brought forth on thisrelease, though, as the band finally delivers on the lofty expectationsbeing thrown about. It seems, actually, that now that Blair Shehan hasa proper band for the project he's settling in just fine to apost-Knapsack indie pop sound. Relentless touring and all that time inrecording limbo gave them the opportunity to create a cohesive and boldgroup of songs. Working with Tim O'Heir, they even found theopportunity to expand their sound, adding touches of keyboards here andthere, as well as some spirited backing vocals that it would be easy tomiss with their live power and Shehan's signature voice. Only onepreviously released song, "Anxious Arms," finds its way on to thealbum, and I honestly prefer the version from their self-titled EP. Allover this release they show the ferocity and keen grasp of melodyaudiences have seen for three years. "Hope For Us" is a call out to thedesperate attention leeches, with a hearty "Kiss me open mouth!" andloud swirled guitars on the chorus. "Naive" and "Does That Make Sense"are three-minute power pop gems, the kind where everyone jumps up anddown at the shows. Slower tempo tracks are sprinkled throughout, withthe six-minute "Recovery Room" showing the most promise, though thedouble-shot of "Guard It Closely" and "For Once in Your Life" with itskeyboard handclaps hold up the middle of the record quite well. One ofthe finest moments, though, is the keyboard drive of "The Fold Out"with its haunting "oohs" and freight train final minute. There's windin their sails, they've lasted this far, and now they're ready to takeover the world. And I'm ready and willing to let them.
Some might call Niblock single minded, in that he always approachescomposition in pretty much the same way. Take a living drone thendouble it, treble it, increase overlayed density until new harmonicovertones appear. What is nice is that he seems to be able to up theante with each release. This is his most mind-altering selection ofdroners yet, and its actually pretty difficult to listen to the wholething without zoning out into the void completely. Over two CDs thereare four different instrumental approaches foregrounded, and it's thedifferent textures of each instrument that characterize each ofNiblock's compositions. Even so, he seems to have more light and shadeand ebb and flow here than in some of his earlier more static tracks.Perhaps the stand out track is "Yam Almost May" with bowed and e-bowedbass drones played by Kaspar T. Toeplitz, sampled and superimposed byNiblock. This builds up ever expanding and enlarging swathes ofharmonic density, sounding more like a deep wind instrument than a bassguitar. The first disc also features heavy baritone sax C tone droneson "Sea Jelly Yellow" and similarly opaque clarinet, bass clarinet andbasset horn lockdown. The second disc is a four-part skullfuck thattakes the dear old piano to corners it rarely visits courtesy of anylon string tied to a single piano string and is seventy minutes longmostly because Niblock is seventy this year. The sound it makes is morelike Glenn Branca's symphonic guitar army than a regular piano, and Ikeep expecting those massive drums to come rolling over the horizon. Ofcourse the drums never come, leaving the massed ecstatic bass tones toboom on in eternal foreplay. The booklet includes photos of Asiansgrowing and making food and some thoughts on Niblock's drones fromGerard Pape, who makes a case for shape shifting 'timbre as space insuspended time.' Featured saxophonist Ulrich Krieger also comments onsome differing technicalities of pieces he's performed in collaborationwith Niblock, and guitar droner Rafael Toral raises some interestingideas about the emotional impact of various Niblock tracks. I findNiblock's music really useful for blocking out everything when I wantto rest and there's a lot of noise going on. It also seems to annoy thehell out of trendy fuckwits, 'that's-not-music' ignoramuses andattention seekers with low attention spans. The blocks seep by soslowly that change is almost imperceptible until some new overtonebrings on a seismic shift. His images of people working might be apt inrespect of monotony, but on another level, if you were to actually chopwood and lug boxes into boats with Niblock on full blast you'd probablyzonk out and fall in the river or accidentally cut off your poor littlehand. Lord let Phill fuck your mind completely!
Arguably nobody has done more for Icelandic music than the Smekkleysa(a.k.a. Bad Taste) label. This double-CD compilation markes the label's100th release after 16 years of operating. Disc one features rare andexclusive music from some of the biggest names and current bands wothchecking out, including the proverbial Bjork and Sigur Ros cuts, alongwith retro freaks Trabant, that other guy from the Sugarcubes, Einar?rn, as well as glitchsters Stilluppsteypa, distorted rockers Minus,and Gunnar (Dr. Gunni) Hj?lmarsson (the label's most visible employeeand cool radio show host), himself. Disc two is a bit of a 'greatesthits' over the years, highlighting the most different stylesimaginable, with a punchy tune from Hei?a's old outfit, Unun; aFrenchy-style accordion and crooner bit from Hlj?msveit Konr??s B?;f-word heavy hip hop from Faculty; goth-metal sounds from Olympia(please don't sing in English); porn-funk from Funkstra?e; plenty ofhardcore and pop; and the single that kicked the label off, "Amm?li,"(Birthday) from Sykurmolarnir (known outside of Iceland as Sugarcubes).Both discs styles flip-flop completely, and I have to admit that Ican't think of one person who could actually like every song here, butit's not terribly unwelcome, as the songs are short, end, and a newsong begins. It's much like listening to a mix tape and not knowingwhat the tracklisting is because there's always that burning curiosityas to "what's next?" A lot of this music is completely unheard ofoutside of the tiny island, despite the number of bands that have infact made their way across the waters in the last few years, sohopefully some of these bands' completists might actually take sometime to listen to what -else- there is out there before letting somehip fashion magazine dictate it.
Because Muslimgauze's Bryn Jones released nearly every second that he recorded in his lifetime, a task which is being continued for him by labels such as Soleilmoon now that he has died, there are many CDs (and double CDs, and triple CDs, and boxsets) which sound very similar to one another and may even have been recorded all in one day, one right after the other. How is this Muslimgauze CD different from all 150+ other Muslimgauze CDs? It isn't, but it is a live recording, which is quite rare in his catalog and is of note simply due to that fact.
The Mountaineers have an intriguing style that seems to blend a downhome, foot tapping folk sing along with modern electro-pop techniques,no doubt a product of the past and present influences of their Welshupbringing. At the heart of their songs lies the jangly acoustic soundsof a guitar that might just be a little ragged, the kind that mightmake an appearance around a campfire after everyone's gotten a littleloose. From there, electronic beeps and slurs are used like garnish,never overpowering the heart of the songs, but working along with it,adding new layers of sound and melody to the already tunefulcompositions. "Self Catering" is a bright track that shows offmultitrack harmonies and taut, precise beats that are found throughoutthe EP. "Clap in Time" begins with a windy horn introduction beforegiving way to a cricket chirp of electronic beeps and the song's body,where the singers ask you to do as the title suggests. It's strange,but the electronic chirps, once again give that feeling of a campfiresing-a-long (and clap-a-long), albeit one that is being experiencedthrough a filter of software and ingenuity. "Chicken" is a raucous,stomping song with the words gushing from the singer's mouth andfollowing down the cascading progression before shooting back up to thetop in a strained yelp. "Radio Cat" is the most adventurous track, asgoes for total programmed abstraction, floating around onelectronically processed vocals and a fuzzy programmed beat. The trackis then manipulated and cut up with sudden, jerky clips. Still, itretains a certain swing that the Mountaineers drop into every track.It's not o sterile that you can't swivel your hips, or maybe walk witha little strut as it plays on your mental soundtrack. "Camped Out"features a gorgeous chorus with an excellent harmony that comes throughlike a slightly out of range radio broadcast from the past. "Your Gunnis Sett on Me" is a light guitar piece of obliquely longing lyrics like"If you're gonna step on me / you gotta give it / you heal thisinjury." Hidden behind this is the unlisted "Fuck You in the Eye," andwhile obviously a throwaway fun track, I wouldn't be surprised to seethe music recycled into something more legitimate in the future. Theway in which the Mountaineers use their conventional instruments,classical piano, guitar, in a manner that is perfectly agreeable totheir use of electronic instruments and production techniques, makesthe EP an alluring listen.
When I was seven years old, I received a rather exciting Christmaspresent, or at least it was exciting to me at that young age. It was aYamaha PSR-6 keyboard, with 99 special effect voices (including theever popular 'Machine Gun' and 'Ocean Wave') and 16 different styles ofbeat! Imagine the possibilities that were available to me, the things Icould do with so many features and options. It was an orchestra in abulky black casing, just awaiting the twitch of my conductor's baton.In reality, my seven-year-old virtuosity was capable only of hitting'Samba' and then goofing around with the funny noises. I am reminded ofthis warm childhood memory because Cut Out's "Interlude with FunMachine" sounds to me like it was put together by a group of seven yearolds with PSR-6's. Had I only known then that I could have recordedmyself (with that little thirty-second memory button?) and put out analbum. It honestly sounds, to my ears, as if every loop, beat, andvoice was drawn from this device and then sprinkled with a littlestudio work. The album's opener, "At It Again" goes on for five minuteswith only five seconds worth of music. "The Power Brokers" is theclosest to breaking from the unfortunate Yamaha sound, with drippyeffects, original beats and a bright organ loop that does not overstayits welcome. The track is relatively and thankfully brief. "Theme FromFun Machine, Part I," however, is an exercise in endurance, clocking inas the longest song on the album, though not by much. It's ten minutesand nineteen seconds of the 'March' beat with a rising and falling tonethat sounds like an advanced slide whistle synthesizer. I just keptthinking to myself, 'What could justify ten minutes of this?' In ashorter context, the ideas that Cut Out had for this piece may haveworked, however throughout the long (long) course of "Fun Machine,"they are repeated until your mind becomes desensitized to the audiowavelengths and you forget you're listening to anything at all. Thefinal song, "Fin" does come across well, with a mournful organ thatdrones on darkly, actually managing to evoke a mood or a feeling ratherthan just looping a tinny beat. Its ending is abrupt, but keeping itshort and knowing when to get out is a virtue that would have improvedthe rest of this disc immensely. "Interlude with Fun Machine" suffersfrom a dearth of ideas, and lacks sufficient style to hide that fact.Did they take the name Cut Out as an allusion to the cut out bin? Ihave a suggestion. If you're of a certain age range, chances are thatyou too received a PSR-6, popular among budding grade school musicians,at some point in your childhood. If it happens to be kicking aroundyour basement somewhere, I suggest you dig it out, dust it off, and hitthe 'demonstration' button. That song was always a lot of fun. It waslong, but at least it had variations. 
I grew up a military brat and spent seven of my most formative years inGermany. At the time, I was a total b-boy, listening to classic hip hopthat was on the charts, like Run DMC, Beastie Boys, and Kool Moe Dee. Ihated rock music and wanted nothing to do with it. At the same time, Iwas being introduced to new music through a number of friends andacquaintances. During this time I heard my first taste of Kraftwerk,and the industrial electronics of any West German metropolis. It waskeyboard tones, glitch beats, and the low rumbles of electronic voicesand bass tones. Back then, we didn't really care what there was todance to, as long as we could dance to it. We'd bug out and breakdanceand robot to anything with a beat, which always seemed to amuse theteachers and parents. Secretly, we wanted to know where this music wasmade, as it always felt like it was being made by machines with AI soadvanced they knew just what could make us boogie; and we chastisedAmerican artists who did anything that used similar sounds, from HaroldFaltermeyer to Herbie Hancock, labelling them "posers" like they werestreet punks who didn't know any better. How wrong we were when we werejust reaching adolescence, but how easy it is for a record to bring allthat rushing back. Luke Eargoggle, one of the new gods of robotelectro, displays a clever range of styles all with the same palette onAudio Warriors,and it's a cheeky listen that got me right back to 1983. Each songbounces with energy of a classic sound with updated technology. Fromthe start, you want to move to it, dancing around the room like youjust don't care. "I want to be free to do what I want," says Luke, andit's like an anthem for body-moving. Different rhythms, but all withthat hip-hop style and electronic production, frame each track, asswirls and bumps highlight the computerized vocals that sometimescontain real lyrics and sometimes just exclaim ("Yeah, yeah!"). There'sreally not much more than that to this, but the music begs for thatkind of minimalism. It truly feels like Eargoggle's overjoyed layingthis to tape or hard drive. That energy is catching, and it's been along time since I had this much fun. 
At the very least, the sound of Lazarus's lazy drawl and deliveryindicates someone who just woke up in the morning, if not actuallyrising from the dead. Guitars are plucked deliberately, syllables areenunciated slowly, and the music proceeds ploddingly. Sometimes it is arace between Montgomery's drawl and his guitar to see which can proceedmore slowly. Often they are neck and neck, two tortoises fumblingtowards a far-off finish line. The scratchiness of the vocals screamsfor a glass of water to dispel those early morning frogs in the throat.And on the fringes of the music are little electronic twiddlings which,at first, are more decorative than substantive but which eventuallycome to define the album. Lazarus is Trevor Montgomery, who has playedwith Tarentel and The Drift; this is his first solo album where heexplores some quiet acoustic compositions. The most unsettling (andfascinating) part of Lazarus's music is the ghostly background vocalswhich pop up in many songs. The background voice is a few octaveshigher than Montgomery's main voice, so it is hard to discern if it isthe same person singing them. But the background voice is alsochillingly more scratchy, unsteady, and frail. My impression was thatthere was a background banshee, rather than a human, singing. The firsthalf of the album maintains a monotony which is only broken by "Ocean(Burn the Highways)," a song which picks of the lagging pace and fillsin the space with some fine guitar plucking and a lively organ duringthe chorus. It also has the most unsettling instance of the backgroundbanshee vocals, where her voice threatens either to decomposealtogether or send us shivering to bed, curled up and frightened (thinkof the difference between Winona Ryder's characters in "EdwardScissorhands:" her young character in the film sounds normal, whereasher character as aged narrator has a geriatric, frail voice which stillmakes my hair bristle when I hear it). But the monotony persists in theother seven or so songs at the beginning of the album as they flowseamlessly into one another, not really making a name for themselves.Ironically, by the time the lovely short instrumental "(untitled)"comes about, Lazarus adds some interesting electronics to the limpingacoustics to spruce up the sound. The highlight of this is heard at theend of "Obviust" when vocals are overtaken by the more compellingelectronic frequency noodling. The last four songs are the mostcaptivating of the album, forecasting a darkness and a vision so bleakthat another resurrection might be in order. 
After a few years in which only a handful of Merzbow albums seemed toemerge, the typically prolific Masami Akita has returned to histraditional, aggressive release schedule. Having overcome theexhaustion associated with the fifty CD Merzbox, the past six months have offered a plethora of new material, including Frog, Merzbeat, Merzzow, the collaboration with Pan Sonic, and the Russell Haswell collaboration Satanstornade.Finally, Ant-Zen has stepped into the ring with this cleverly packaged4x3" CD set. Each disc offers a bite-sized portion of the diverselynoisy flavors of Merzbow's modern noise compositions. The ferocious"Warhorse" opens this collection with a wailing guitar loop that soonsubmits to the cacophony of abstract percussion and sizzlingsoundscapes. Far removed from his earlier work a la Music For Bondage Performance,the piece hits like an air raid and offers little relief through its 21minute duration. In contrast, the second CD opens with the minimal yetbassy rumblings of "Space Trackin," whose somewhat rhythmic structureexperiences constant interruption from static-laden frequencies. Itstays relatively consistent until roughly the last minute, evolvinginto a squeaky filtered bleep-beat experiment. The accompanying"Ramatam" combines a white hot sheet of electronics with hard rockdrums before yielding to the sounds of burning hard drives. Disc threecomes from the same mindset, if not the same recording sessions, of theMerzbeat project. Of the two tracks here, "Stone The Crow"appeals to me more with its steady, sludgy rock backbeat churning underan array of dominant, menacing squeals and hisses. The final CD soundsmost like an Ant-Zen release. From the onset of "CD Hunter," a reworkof the previously-available "AB Hunter," a muffled rhythm lays thefoundation for stream upon stream of digital noise. After giving allfour discs a good listen, it has become clear to me that Merzbow isreleasing some of the most creative and interesting work of his entirecareer.
Neon Hunk walks the line between quirky and totally annoying. They playtwisted jerky rock music that was probably inspired partly by Boredomsbut is nowhere near as fun. Certainly their garish artwork seemsgreatly in debt to Yamantaka Eye, but like the music it seems a littlediluted. I bet they like the Residents a bit too. Brutalism withkittens might mess up kitchen table if the totally distortedsynthesisers don't mess up the lettuce first and the clattering drumscould probably crush your tomato at fifty paces. I can't really say Ilike this album or don't like it, it just kind of craps about like aflappy kid who tries too hard and knocks everything over while I trynot to get annoyed that I'm not listening to Boredoms instead, and endup mixing metaphors instead of chopping up Robert Sandell from 'MixingIt' on Radio 3 to feed to my pack of hounds who all sound a bit likeXTC but not really and the rest of the CD is quite different and notvery good in actual fact. Not in this HC fact though, its all of thesame quality with a super-dumb drummer who clatters off a bit behindthroughout but that's his minimal charm. Mothmaster seems to be after afingernails-on-chalkboard sound on the synth but falls just short ofutter shrillness. Sometimes they even fuck about playing the tapesbackwards. Its like they wanted the lunatics to take over the asylumbut only got the toytown version with Larry the Lamb and Noddy jinglingbells all night until their mums shouted at them to shut the fuck up.The quasi-songs threaten to fall apart any minute but are usually overjust before that happens. The album is also really short, which mightbe a blessing in disguise but could be one good reason not to shell outfull price for it, if I haven't already put you off. Like Pink andBrown,they give their tracks humourous titles that aren't really very funny,but who cares what the songs are called anyway? They might be quiteamusing to catch live if they pull off silly moves to match the twistsand turns of the gargled unintelligible babbling screeching vocals.Neon Hunk seems like a one trick pony one leg short, but you might keepit around out of some kind of misguided pity. Someone should flog thislot to the Hoxton trendies fast, while they wait for an exciting newband called Radio 2 to pretend they wrote an old Gang of 2 song, whilstnot mentioning that wave, punk and core are now acceptable to theafternoon teatime set. At least Jonathan Ross will never play Neon Hunkon the radio, and that's the immoral of this sordid abortion. Don'teven think about getting this until you have the ultra heavy killerNoxagt album on Load. Fuck Neon Hunk, they couldn't even be bothered toget a classically trained viola player in the band, and what good isthat? 
