This is my first encounter with the unique fare of Berlin's One Instrument Records, but I have probably stumbled upon Felicity Mangan's work before, as she released an EP of animal-sourced sound art on Longform Editions back in 2019 and she is also half of the duo Native Instrument.  While it may sound like a stretch to call the multi-directional "quasi-bioacoustic sound piece" of her Longform EP Stereo'frog'ic "normal," it is nevertheless fair to say that frogs and homemade speakers are considerably closer to Mangan's comfort zone than a harmonica album (which is good, as I generally loathe harmonicas). And yet here we are: Bell Metal Reeds is an entirely harmonica-sourced album (Mangan picked one up at a flea market in Hamburg right before the pandemic). In most cases, learning that someone recorded a solo harmonica album over lockdown would—at best—elicit a wince, heavy sigh, or torrent of expletives from me, yet Mangan has somehow managed to wield the instrument so unconventionally and so beautifully that my mind has been properly blown. This is an incredible album, at times recalling everything from classic Kranky fare a la Windy & Carl to Neu! to Chris Watson.
Happily, there is very little on this album that is recognizably sourced from a flea market harmonica, which is a good thing in my book. The even better thing is how transcendently Mangan was able to repurpose her Hohner Echo Harp's sounds and the impressive variety of compositions that resulted. The opening "Echo Harp 1" kicks off the album in especially sublime fashion, as the first half unfolds as sensuous, wobbly drone swells enhanced with flutters of dreampop shimmer that lazily swoop around the drones like an iridescent bat. It almost sounds like Mangan deconstructed drone music and somehow wound up with something languorously sensual instead. Curiously, Mangan opted to shift gears midway through the piece, so the final minutes are more akin to texturally confused drone metal than sexy harmonica ambient. I am bit disappointed by that transformation, as the first half was brilliant, but there is an eerie bent note in the final section that I like, so all is forgiven. "Echo Harp 2" is another big surprise, as it initially resembles an ancient war procession shrouded in a flickering psychedelic haze. Gradually, however, a throbbing drone slowly rolls out of the enchanted fog to launch a final act that resembles a stretched, smeared, and deconstructed motorik rhythm enhanced by the eerie whistle of a passing ghost train. While the first two pieces start off as near-masterpieces and end as merely very good, "Echo Harp 3" manages to sustain its perfection all the way to the finish line, resembling a wonderfully sensuous and spacey instrumental in the Windy & Carl vein (albeit a bit synthier-sounding than that comparison suggests). The album winds to a close with yet another surprise stylistic detour, as "Echo Harp 4" begins life as a pulsing mass of psych drone, but evolves into a compellingly polyrhythmic twist on a jangly drone rock band with an unusual effects palette. That adds up to four surprising, inventive, and beautifully crafted songs in a row, so I guess I am now a raging Felicity Mangan fan. If she can work this kind of magic with the insane constraint of exclusively using a flea market harmonica, her potential must be damn near limitless.
Samples can be found here.
On his first solo album since 2015, Duane Pitre takes figures/motifs from a "justly tuned" piano and uses his Max/MSP-based generative network to convert them into data which is then sent to two polyphonic microtonal synthesizers which have patches he designed. There is also some controlled improvisation interacting with the piano-reactive electronics. That may be clear to many readers, but it is impressively baffling to me. No matter, I often enjoy the benefits of things I don't fully understand: hydroelectric power, photography, bees making honey, and sound "living in the grooves" of vinyl records, to name but four. So it is with this lovely series of degenerative musical feedback loops. They also have a consistently pleasing sound and invite inner contemplation and a sense of interconnectedness.
This offering on the altar of music is a mesmeric slow burner. It goes to work on me like a time released medication. Strains of flute, bells, and synthesizer swirls gradually encompass me, infecting my blood stream with their calmness, before the levels are elevated into a heady pulsating crispness. Temple Music is an offshoot project started by Alan Trench of the British dark folk band Orchis and an ex-proprietor of the now deceased World Serpent label. After his first Temple Music release he was joined by Stephen Robinson. Together, on this limited release of 300, (distributed by 
From the album art and band title, I was expecting something more black metal-ly than I got with this album, which is a good thing. Considering this duo's first album was titled This Beat Is Necrotronic, I should have guessed that they weren't going to be playing by genre rules, and here the occasional bit of fuzzed out kvlt guitar is mostly balanced by dubby beats and textural synths, channeling the mid/late '90s ambient dub scene with distinctly current approach.
This two CD set, comprised of an album recorded in 2007 and a cassette that sold out ridiculously quick in 2010 showcases how much change has taken place in Jenks Miller's solo project. Even though he has never lost sight of his traditional minimalist foundation, this an early almost post-rock tinged album and a more contemporary metal one, which is more consistent with the recent work Horseback has put out.
There are a number of significant omissions in Eliane Radigue's discography, as the sole available medium in the '60s and '70s (vinyl) could not contain her long-form drone works without ruining them by carving them up into multiple parts.  Consequently, this extended epic of ultra-minimalism is just now getting a formal release despite being premiered in 1974.  While its immediate impact is blunted considerably by the 37 years of drone/electronic music evolution that followed it, patient listening reveals a visionary and enveloping work that is unexpectedly timeless.
In light of the on-going Occupy Wall Street protests and England's summer riots, James Hoff's single-sided picture disc on PAN feels a little heavier than it otherwise might. Stitched together from various "historic riots," none of which are named, How Wheeling Feels When the Ground Walks Away presents lo-fi crowd roar, chants, guitar solos, breaking glass, and other disobedient noises as the soundtrack to failing systems, desperation, and widespread anger. An audio documentary more than a musical treatment of collective discontent, Hoff captures the anxiety of rebellion and revolt as vividly as any camera could, though its effectiveness might depend on where and how it's heard.
This third album by Herb Diamante is a collection of the collaborations with a number of great and varied artists. From Sun City Girls to At Jennie Richie, Diamante and his pals cover a wide array of styles and moods. Sad, funny, and deeply weird, this album is as odd as can be without being strange for the sake of strangeness. There is real human tenderness under all schlock and mock horror which makes A Spoonful of Yeast one of those brilliant unhinged pop albums which never get made anymore.
Having abstained from a new Merz release for almost two years, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when cracking this disc open. Well, I expected noise at least, for good reason, and I definitely got that. Thankfully, my hopes that the context of this album would make it stand out amongst the ones I have and haven’t heard were not dashed. Recorded live last year as part of a Kurt Schwitters exhibition, Masami Akita puts on a great show that meshes his older "home made electronic instrument noise" sound with his modern "laptop noise" aesthetic.
