Canadian-born but based in Kobe, Japan, Tim Olive's work in the realms of abstract sound and composition is unique in that it rarely is a solo endeavor. Instead, his approach is that music should be collaborative, and thus these two recent works feature him and his slew of home made and non-musical instruments working alongside similar minded artists, in this case Kyoto's Takuji Naka and Calgary percussionist Chris Dadge. The two albums are certainly consistent with each other in approach, but also stand alone as distinct entities as well, linked by Olive's touch and artistry.
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Francisco López has been active and rather prolific for 40 years, and A Bunch of Stuff (1980-2020) is the first true retrospective release he has assembled thus far. While there have been a multitude of compilations or boxed sets, those consisted largely of thematic releases or previously unreleased works. This 12 hour USB drive, consisting of uncompressed excerpts from 138 pieces and categorized by style, acts as probably the best, and most thorough, introduction to his staggering discography. Standing alone as a diverse and compelling compilation, it also serves as a gateway work for anyone looking to further explore his lengthy career.
In recent years, it seems like each new Dead C release is inspired by a different extreme self-imposed constraint or contrarian impulse for self-sabotage. Obviously, the trio have always been unwaveringly devoted to making challenging and polarizing art, but they are also admirably devoted to continual reinvention (and presumably to repeatedly wrong-footing their audience as well). This latest EP is a bit of a puzzle though, as it feels less like the product of a focused overarching vision than it does an eclectic mixed bag of varying threads ("broken, shambolic blues" and "gnarled guitar tone worship" spring most immediately to mind). Some of the trio's searching forays into uncharted territory on Unknowns definitely yield more compelling results than others though, so longtime fans will likely find something to love even if the entire EP can be tough to fully embrace. Given that, Unknowns would not be an ideal starting point for the curious, as the band seem to be consciously not playing to their strengths, but they are at least doing things wrong in some very interesting ways.
This latest release from the Opalio brothers documents their incendiary live performance with recurring collaborator Jean-Marc Montera at 2018’s Reevox-Nuit D’Hiver festival in Marseilles. Generally, live albums are not my preference (outside of iconic jazz line-ups), but the difference between a "live" and a "studio" recording is largely an irrelevant and purely academic one with My Cat is an Alien: both are completely spontaneous, so the only real difference is that people happened to be watching this time. Consequently, the primary appeal of Nuit d'Hiver lies in how Montera’s presence steers the brothers' signature psychedelia into somewhat wilder, more unpredictable territory. Admittedly, Montera is a recurring figure precisely because he has an especially deep understanding of the Opalios' vision and always brings welcome enhancements to it, so Nuit d'Hiver is still predicable in one sense: it is another strong addition to the MCIAA discography. It may not be quite as strikingly novel as some other MCIAA collaborations, given Montera's history and familiarity with the Opalios' work and ethos, but it is nevertheless a characteristically absorbing swirl of deep space lysergia.
Given how many achingly gorgeous songs Mary Lattimore has released over the last few years, I was not exactly clamoring for any significant changes to either her aesthetic or her working methods. However, when I learned that she had flown out to Cornwall to record with Neil Halstead, my expectations for Silver Ladders nevertheless increased dramatically. And for the most part, those intimidatingly high expectations were met with this album, though this is still very much a Mary Lattimore album rather than the Lattimore/Mojave 3 or Lattimore/Slowdive collaboration of my dreams (though "Til a Mermaid Drags You Under" feels damn close to such a transcendent union). For the most part, however, Silver Ladders is exactly what I would expect from Lattimore at this point in her career: a near-flawless collection of tenderly sublime, nuanced, and emotionally resonant harp reveries enhanced with a subtle palette of effects. Whether or not Silver Ladders surpasses any of Lattimore's previous great albums is difficult to say, as my feelings on that vary by the day, but it definitely belongs among her most memorably beautiful statements to date.
This record was one of the more impressive artifacts to emerge in 2010. Combining music and moving images in a novel way, its uniqueness ensures it will be a talked about collectors item for years to come. Discerning listeners will favor the discombobulated collage aesthetic while visual arts aficionados will be keen to witness the zoetropic animations encoded on the vinyl first hand.
Supersilent have always lurked at the furthest fringes of jazz, my first recommendations to listen to them usually came from those who were more into Eric Dolphy and Albert Ayler than the kind of stuff I was listening to at the time. With 10, the group have picked out the more traditionally jazzish elements of their improvisations and focused on them. The result is not a straight jazz album, it’s not a straight anything. Labyrinthine but uncluttered, Supersilent again show that they are unwilling to remain in any kind of musical stasis.
While electronic heavy krautrock inspired jams are far from obscure in this day and age, Ilitch is in the uncommon position of being one of the earlier practitioners of the genre who are still active, and with the vigor they always had.
Celer is not the amazing ambient and drone unit that every blog, webzine, and message board in the universe claims it is. At least, Ariill doesn't prove it. Released as a pair of free MP3s in 2007 by Archaic Horizon and presumably related to a self-released CD-R of the same name from 2005, these two half-hour drones represent the start of Celer's prolific four-year run, which I assume yielded better music than this.
