A perfect assemblage of absurd clichés has been collected here by Organum's David Jackman. The cover and title both suggest something of both the dark and sinister mindsets: 'Verhalte Dich Ruhig' translates to English literally as 'Keep yourself calm,' but more aggressively could be referred to as 'Duck and cover'. The picture, on the other hand, may have been taken in an abandoned concentration camp or some completely harmless old house in Germany, but you'll never know for sure.
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Using vinyl as an anachronistic commentary on technology and culture is all too common these days, but on this release, Loren Chasse takes a far more low-level view of the medium. He explores the detail inherent in the surface noise of records—kind of an analog representation of the digital "glitch"—and also juxtaposes it with similar sounds found in nature, such as wind, leaves, fire, and surf. The first of four untitled tracks combines layers of quiet cracking and popping with some distant-sounding music that's probably also coming from the record. The vinyl noises, spread throughout the stereo field, are continuously changing, and though they're simple and commonplace sounds, their combination with the soothingly indistinct music is warm and hypnotizing. The second track is significantly more aggressive, with louder, more distorted surface noises mixed with the sounds of wind and the ocean. There's considerable detail throughout the piece, but at times it's covered by such a thick wall of noise that close attention becomes necessary. What's fascinating is that this storm of sound, that at first seemed to overwhelm and mask the piece, holds in itself a deep level of richness and complexity. The third track is more dynamic, starting with some electronic hissing and buzzing and a little bit of crackle fading in and out, along with more barely perceptible music. It ebbs and flows while building up, like the tide that it samples, until it finally grows into a tumultuous roar. The final track is my favorite, as it features the best arrangement of the quietly melodic music submerged under what sounds like sand falling and the buzzing of a few really scratched up records. In all, 'Hedge of Nerves' is an interesting album with some moments of great subtle beauty. Though it may not be the best record for casual listening, it isn't too "conceptual" to be entertaining. According to Anomalous, it was designed in part to be used to make "virtual scratchy records" by mixing it with other sources, and it definitely succeeds in that and more.
As a listener, one of the more celebrated things about some prolific independent artists gaining more deserved recognition would be the availability of previous material that may have originally been issued in limited quantities, or else did not have as wide a distribution as present. Formerly released as a three-track twelve inch EP limited to 1,000 copies, the Scott Herren project of Delarosa + Asora's 'Crush the Sight-Seers' has recently materialized on CD through Chicago's Hefty Records, home to Herren's Savath + Savalas. In keeping with the added value of some reissues, a bonus track has been included. The recurring distorted keyboard chatters and metallic percussion sample of the opening track "OSSABAW" blends into a sub-bass progression and laid-back, half-time groove with the odd break to mark off sections of the tune. The two-and-a-half minute "OSS.BW" is a multi-layered piece of eerie drones, synth squelches and chimes that could be the equivalent of sound painting through channel surfing at a mixing console. "Airbrush (clogged)" builds from distorted vocal snippets and reverbed static to a cordial bass line and mid-tempo electro-percussion groove with a gradually building back beat. Eventually it all falls away leaving the distant sounds of distorted keyboards and squelchy tape shuttling. "Vs. Boah" skitters from static pops, sound layers and vocal samples to a dark sounding danceable groove which builds in intensity after each lengthy break. A shift in the key signature makes from a great release from all the tension the track builds. Dropping out just shy of the five minute mark for two-and-a-half minutes of silence, the music returns with an echo to the drones and hisses of "OSS.BW" to close off. While this disc may be an acquired taste as it's not as groove-oriented or melodically friendly as other Scott Herren projects, I'd have to say that it still makes for a great listen for just those reasons too. As mentioned in the liner notes, another good thing about CD reissues of unmarked RPM vinyl is hearing the tunes at the speed they were intended to be played at without any doubt.
The story goes like this: David Lynch wanted to use This Mortal Coil's haunting version of Tim Buckley's "Song to a Siren" for a pivotal scene in his classic film "Blue Velvet." Something about Elizabeth Frasier's ethereal, wavering voice and the echoing acoustic guitar was perfect for a particular scene in the film. For the rights to use the song, 4AD wanted a figure that was half the budget of the film he was making. Deeply disappointed that he could not afford the song, he asked the film's composer, Angelo Badalamenti, to write and produce a track that had a similar "feel". Badalamenti found a singer with the voice of an angel, Julee Cruise, an unknown who had been working off-off-Broadway, and with lyrics penned by Lynch, they composed the song "Mysteries of Love".
I love the way CDs are programmable. For instance, I can take a disc like this one, with a strong opening, "Clear a Space for the King," which conjurs up space aliens grooving on a flashy dancefloor and listen along with the calm and pretty "Sprinkling Time," completely avoiding songs like "Transylvanian Spy" with its irritating, tinny two-bar melodies and "Lonely Stars" with its obnoxious fake piano riff that makes me want to throw things across the room. Reading the song titles, the record label's web site, and the distributor's release notes, each account for this album almost completely contradicts the others: ranging from a fascination with science fiction to the imitation of stomach and digestive sounds to references of musique concrête. While most of the music here is decent, I can't justify it receiving as much over-evaluation. Clearly, the one-man person behind Wang Inc., Italian Bartolomeo Sailer, is a talented individual, with a meticulous amount of attention paid to every instrument sound in each of the fifteen tracks. Rarely are sounds recycled from track to track. Comical punchiness on tracks like "Sonic Killer" would appease many Sonig fans while "Forgotten Kurdish Workers" can easily appeal to any lover of the spaceship hum from a black and white film. A little more patience with the melodies and a lot more discretion when deciding what to omit might be nicer, however.
The concept is interesting for a compilation to say the least: three bands recording songs that are influenced by or created under the influence of alcohol. It could be an absolute disaster, but here it works quite nicely. Then again, the artists featured here are no slouches (even though they may be out of their element a bit).
This latest 45 rpm 7" single from Kieran Hebden is a two-part tune in which the theme/motif/progression plays through in cycles with various changes in instrumentation, grooves and breaks.
Forgive my cliché use of a metaphor, but I somehow feel that when I listen to this disc, I'm looking at a fairly decorative car that simply doesn't go anywhere. Spaceheads have been churning out this same formula for years: a dubby pretense, a small amount of recycled and reused, two-bar repetitive sequences, some live drum playing and trumpet with loads of delay effects. The formula's getting old. While their music is undoubtedly pleasant enough for an escalator ride, and the band has earned a wide amount of respect as a performing duo, I've never felt their music was compelling enough to simply toss on the hi-fi and either bop along or pay much attention to. The rhythms and melodies exit the song in the same way each and every one of them came in, and the only lead instrument, the trumpet, does a lackluster job as tour guide. By the time this album reaches the fifth track, I swear I'm hearing remixes of the same song, over and over again. If it weren't for the insulting guitar riff on "Fog," or the horrible, tacky electronic drum fills and cheap 1993 Aphex Twin-ripoff on "Storm Force 8," I may have recommend using this music for quiet studies, creative writing, or other mentally requiring activities. Instead, I'm left thinking this album's only practical use could be to underscore a stuffy documentary on the British Rail system or a trip to the paper mill. Maybe lots of drugs might help my experience, but I just don't have enough cash to try that out right now.
