Fernando Corona is back with another Murcof record, and this time he's tackling nothing less than the entire cosmos. In terms of creative process, Murcof leans further away from his previous micro-programmed pieces with Cosmos, and relies more on sounds derived almost entirely from recordings of classical instruments. He has not, however, abandoned the idiosyncratic precision or faith in structure that have served him so well.
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The title of this album translates into "everything open again," especially fitting considering that this band have been going for nigh on three decades and continue to evolve. Many a younger band would be delighted with this as a debut, let alone the 20-oddth studio album of a consistently innovative career, not just musically but also the very means by which a record is made. With Radiohead taking a leaf from their book in terms of cutting out the record label middleman, this album is as much a statement of the healthy state of independent music as it is a fine collection of songs.
While the album's philosophy is an integral part of its success and woven into the music, and packaging is undoubtedly personal (wax seal, unique piece of photograph as gift), still Tracks is not giving anything personal away with the liners. In terms of vision Everything Judged by Success Alone is about as close as possible to a one man vision of Godspeed You Black Emperor as anyone's likely to be able to conjure up.
Chris Hakius and Al Cisneros invert their formula on their third album. Instead of only creating tension through loudness and distortion, they also generate an uneasy mood through a judicious balance of softness and clarity. Recorded by Steve Albini, Pilgrimage finds them branching out into more delicate yet no less intriguing territory for what may be their most consistent album yet.
Balancing between brittle noise and gauzy ambience, this album has a spacious atmosphere that stays even in its most clamorous moments. This lightness makes the album listenable throughout, but it saps the intensity of the music. The electronic arrangements are often engaging, but they dissipate into formlessness too soon to reach catharsis.
This double album sees Ruth Rosenthal's poetry set to music by her musical partner, Xavier Klaine. Her words and his music create a delicate whole although moments of black humour and irony break through the elegiac moods. Winter Family deal with weighty issues from the most personal to a haunting passage on the Holocaust. Yet this album is surprisingly easy to listen to, despite the serious nature of the words.
Perhaps I am just not as well versed in my post-punk as I thought I was, or it is a direct result of their short career, but I must admit to have never even hearing of the Young Marble Giants until this box set, but now having heard them, it is safe to say their legacy should be appreciated, and their contributions to music should not be neglected.
This collaboration between cellist/electronics wizard Rawlings and percussionist/mixer Feeney lays out its agenda immediately on the first part: swelling, high pitched sine waves that pierce and barely relent. However, for the listener willing to endure the harshness, there is a vast array of subtleties to be found.
Minneapolis legend Michael Yonkers has been busier than ever lately, releasing two new albums as well as reissuing an essential lost classic from the '70s. On the all-new Carbohydrates Hydrocarbons, he is backed by heavy-hitters The Blind Shake. Having first played together when paired randomly at a club, the experience was so much fun that playing more shows and recording together seemed inevitable. Thank the stars for random occurrences, because this album of pounding anthems and mind-melting guitar frenzy is easily one of Yonkers' best releases yet.
Devendra Banhart's fifth album finds him abandoning many of the idiosyncrasies that fueled his earlier work and instead adopting a variety of broader influences. As a result, he reaches neither the ecstatic heights obtained previously nor the jokey lows that plagued Cripple Crow. Apart from a handful of exceptions, Banhart instead settles for something in between for much of this middling effort.
