17 July 2016

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Go Go Theurgy is Polish composer Anna Zaradny's first album in eight years, following 2008's Mauve Cycles. Like that release, there is a significant amount of experimentation and abstraction to be heard on this record's two side long composition, yet for all its dissonance there is clearly order here. Order that takes the form of deconstructing and rebuilding more conventional pop and electronic music elements into completely unique contexts. It is challenging but captivating all the same.

 

Musica Genera/Bocian Records

The opening moments of "Theurgy One" are rather sparse, considering what is to come.What is first a sequenced pattern of synthesized tones is soon engulfed by buzzing, machinery like drones that add a distinct darkness.One of the striking things that is immediately noticeable about Zaradny's work is its complexity, and her use of multiple, yet complementary layers of sound that give an impressive depth, while still retaining a coherent structure.

Electronic pulses soon pop up that mimic something that could appear on a standard techno record, but within this factory-like ambience, they have a character all their own.Mangled synthesizer leads appear to quickly transitions into sweeping, symphonic drama and back again.Amidst these bent tones and idiosyncratic sequences is an expanse of warm crackles and textures, making for an avant garde lead-in to a more conventional, pulsating techno conclusion.

The other half, "Theurgy Two," picks up where its predecessor left off.The opening moments have a more structured, sequenced sound to them, but the same bizarre, dissonant quality to the sound overall that is idiosyncratic to say the least.Her intentional use of rigid, dance-music like repetition with these sounds results in a sort of abrasive, slightly grating sound that eventually relents to showcase droning tones and clicking textures.

As the composition moves on, Zaradny introduces nasal, buzzing synthesizers that resemble a modern take on 1970s sci fi soundtrack schlock with droning, drill like vibrations and harsher passages of electronics.But even within these more dissonant sounding moments, she creates some distinctly glorious, beautiful moments of rich drama, sweeping electronic passages that are completely enrapturing.The work culminates into a rich, complex, and nuanced nod to composition that ends the record on a delicate, calm note.

Anna Zaradny's work on Go Go Theurgy shines most clearly in her clever use of elements associated with more conventional music, such as sequenced synthesizers and rhythmic passages, but employed in such a way that they bear little superficial resemblance to what would be expected.Instead they function on an almost subliminal level, drawing me into a sonic world that is utterly unique, bizarre, and fascinating for its entire duration.

samples:

• Theurgy One (Excerpt One)
• Theurgy One (Excerpt Two)
• Theurgy Two

 

17 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

For their fourth record, the duo of Kane Ikin and Paul Fiocco took a different approach, and decided to revisit fragments of previous recordings that lay forgotten on various hard drives and cassette tapes for a multitude of years. Beginning with these elements, they then reworked the material and recorded new parts, making these recordings a sort of hybrid of unreleased works and new material. Because of that, In The Lens may at times feel more like a collection of songs rather than a full-fledged album, but that is no major detriment considering how well these compositions are executed.

12k

My first impression of this album was how it almost felt like a collection of miniatures, given most of the song’s relatively brief durations (only three clock in at over four minutes).Working in the context of these shorter songs, it allows the duo to experiment with a multitude of techniques that, while perhaps not likely to work as well in a lengthier composition, manage to be extremely effective in its more concise format.For example, most of "Left" seems to be constructed from plucked acoustic guitar strings and what sounds like a person writing with a pencil."Dancer" resembles a collection of bass string plucks and ambient space, with maybe a bit of horn tossed in for good measure.The structure is simple and fragmented, and over a longer duration it could end up a scatter-shot mess, but at a succinct minute and a half, it is excellent.

The duo also does an exceptional job at working with their diverse instrumentation to create extremely dynamic pieces that are simultaneously recognizable and yet entirely alien."Late Night Games With Her" seems to be constructed largely of chimes and guitar, but both are utilized in quite unconventional ways, and when blended with more ambiguous sounds, it never seems to stand still in its brief three minute duration. The slightly messy "Porcelain Blue" is a goulash of sounds, with clean, gentle tones and maybe a woodwind or two thrown in.Even with its intentional abstraction, there is a delicateness to it that cannot be denied.

A few pieces stand out strongly as being more structured and composed in nature.While there is still an overall loose structure to "From All The Broken Pieces", Ikin and Fiocco bring in more traditional bits of melody and rhythm to create something that feels more like a conventional song, yet still fits in nicely with the remainder of the album.Similarly, the concluding "Canvas" is comparably lush, layered with strummed guitar and keyboard.There is more instrumentation present, but as expected, it is not easily identifiable, yet entirely captivating.

The overall vibe given off by In The Lens is a sort of abstract take on late night mellow jazz music.While Fiocco and Ikin's use of what appears to be piano and upright bass throughout these 13 pieces make for an obvious linkage, there is a somber, but not sad mood throughout.For the whole length of the record, there is a calmness to it, but never one that becomes flat or dull.There is a definite sense of relaxation to be had, but not in a trite, clichéd sort of new age way.

samples:

• Late Night Games With Her
• Porcelain Blue
• Canvas

 

11 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

San Diego’s Steve Flato has remarkable and unpredictable range—from structured harsh noise (Mara’s Daughters) and hallucinogenic sine assaults (Salon de Flato) to mathematical ambience (This Is Our Last Cry Before Our Eternal Silence), and now, with Simulation of Another Thing, orchestrated soundtracks. Recorded with a trio featuring trombone, tuba, and French horn, Simulation blends melody, voice, field recordings, and improvised noise across three varied and affective songs (with an emphasis on the sinister). It comes in at a concise 30 minutes, but Flato packs a lot of great performances and unusual choices into that space, including one that combines the reassuring voice of a hairdresser with the steady pulse of a drum machine.

Tape Drift

Album opener "Realistic Binaural Haircut" stands out as one of the more unusual and satisfying tracks Steve has ever recorded. Its primary elements are a burbling synth, a plodding tom-tom rhythm, several comedic horn sequences, and a hairdresser who whispers in a semi-seductive tone about highlights, layers, and split ends. She moves from left to right in the stereo, recommending hair colors and magazines while a steady pulse of electronic signals seeps into the mix. At the same time, a current of brassy tones burble into the foreground like an excited Shriner parade drawing interlocked figure-eights in the air. If the rest of the song, which jumps into double time halfway through, didn’t sound sound so intense, "Binaural" might come across like a joke. Instead, it revels in a Matmos-like confusion of driving noise and playful improvisations, both severe and mischievous.

"Dissonance Quartet" and "Simulation of a Thing at Owl Creek Bridge" tread on more somber ground. They’re moodier and twilit, especially "Dissonance," with its cavernous string melodies and spaced-out synths. There’s a touch of film noir about it, a romantic evocation of silhouetted detectives and half-seen movements that makes the piece feel tailor-made for the movies. "Simulation" travels further into expressionistic territory with steady drones and textured, almost empty field recordings. More like a Rorschach test than a cinematic score, the horns, faded environmental sounds, and electronic miscellany that populate its middle portion are porous and flexible, or hard and reflective, but definitely material, definitely bearing weight. The particular thing at Owl Creek Bridge that the piece is meant to simulate stays out of sight. Rather than clarify its qualities, Steve Flato chooses to obscure them, inviting his audience to wander into the mystery a little ways. Besides, there need not be a thing at Owl Bridge for the song to work (and Ambrose Bierce readers will probably read the reference differently anyway). By the time the album’s done, the listener has seen and felt its presence too, not as a definite thing, but as an enigma.

samples:

• Realistic Binaural Haircut
• Dissonance Quartet
• Simulation of a Thing at Owl Creek Bridge

 

10 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

Subtext presents Barotrauma by Eric Holm. The source material for Barotrauma was recorded in the Nordic fjords south of Oslo, an adjunct to Eric Holm’s training at the Norwegian School of Commercial diving (Norsk Yrkesdykkerskole). While he was training, world oil prices collapsed, so left with an uncertain future, Holm decided to record and film his dives, capturing the lonely calm of his isolation in the dark water.

Like environments on land, the seabed is populated with machines, industry, and noise. Interference is everywhere. Engines, equipment, drilling: it is a mirror of on-land environmental exploitation.

These six tracks were created over the last two years, using the sounds Holm collected from the sea floor and subsea equipment, which he then manipulated and processed, shaping a vision of his time in this underwater environment.

More information can be found here.

10 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

The experimental Italian composer returns to PAN with a new LP, titled Clonic Earth. His ongoing output for the label has long-presented his electroacoustic sound compositions where since the mid-'00s, he has utilized analogue live sampling and real-time editing of field and studio recordings by means of manipulation of 1/4 inch tape.

His studio compositions, documented on few records, often explore themes of the internal - represented both by the psychological and the physical - and of the occult, which with the use of spoken text makes them often deeply existential works, self-investigations of the psychological, emotional and irrational horror within.

The new record, Clonic Earth is a perturbing, compelling and eventually mind-expanding work, marked by compositional strategies of exploded narratives, psychological insight and oracular literary references, where questions about the boundaries of spatial perception in the decoding processes of acousmatic music are overturned into existential, metaphysical questions.

Tricoli's allegorical and philosophical universe takes the form of an unhinged mind's landscape swarming with estranged sound objects, and sometimes reminiscent, in the complexity of details and surrealistic effects, of Hieronymus Bosch’s larger paintings. Compared to his previous works, the content of Clonic Earth explores more synthesized and heavily processed sounds, especially vocals, often appearing in the form of a religious, electrified chanting.

The record is described by its author as a natural consequence of the internal collapse depicted in his previous record, Miseri Lares: "As if all the debris left inside my loudspeakers have been ignited to expand into the ether, to find a justification at the principle of Chaos, or Cosmos alike."

This movement is expressed by references to the theme of fire as original matter in the Chaldean Oracles which, together with the later work of Philip K. Dick, are the main sources for the vocal/text elements of the composition. Fire, intended as the convulsive principle of existence, but also an ontologically terminal element - hence a representation of the infinite decay and a mean of communication with the otherworldly - serves the author a metaphor for the acousmatic listening experience itself: a borderline perception of sounds eternally fixed in their spasmodic disappearance, which could eventually drag us into a different layer of reality, drastically changing, subverting, or expanding the space in which they are diffused. A ritual, somehow, which may link the listener and the perceptive space that he inhabits with whatever lies beyond the loudspeakers, beyond the vibrating surface of the world.

More information can be found here.

10 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

Centres is the stunning new album from Vancouver-based vocalist / composer Ian William Craig, and his first release for FatCat following two critically lauded back to back albums for Recital Program. Ian William Craig is a trained operatic vocalist who combines his voice with analogue synthesizers, reel-to-reel machines, and faulty tape decks to create sublime cascades of unpredictable decay and beauty. Though classically trained and grounded in the choral tradition, Craig’s early albums were centered significantly around the piano, with his voice merely a marginal presence. But in recent years his practice has come to focus increasingly around his powerful voice, as can be witnessed on Centres.

Fundamentally distressed yet texturally lush, Centres is an immensely deep, rich and rewarding listen. It was recorded in an assortment of studio and other locations across his Vancouver hometown: in concert halls and classrooms; train-yards and live rooms, as well as Craig’s own home. It was created using a mixture of sources - synthesizer, Hammond organ, guitar, accordion, wire recorder, loop station, Craig’s array of re-purposed tape decks and "cassette choir." The songs were created manipulating tape loops through two or three decks at once to create strange deteriorating delays with different colors. Craig would then circuit-bend the bias to create odd kinds of distortion, or bend the sound back into itself so it feeds back in unpredictable ways.

Centres is a stunning album that stands with a similarly unique sense of vision and integrity as the likes of William Basinski or Colin Stetson.

More information can be found here.

03 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

Here are two new archival releases from Bianchi, who has been more prolific in reissuing early (and usually more well regarded) releases compared to new material in the past few years. These discs (both CD versions of limited cassettes issued in the early 1980s) capture Bianchi in transition, moving from his less focused early work as the Sacher-Pelz moniker, into what most associate with the MB name and his string of amazing, but depressing LPs in the early 1980s. While the material might not be as strong as something on, say, Symphony for a Genocide or Regel, it is still much more than simple.

Menstrual

Both were released in 1980, but the two disc Mectpyo/Blut set (originally two cassettes) is early on into his transition using his own name.Because of that, the four pieces that comprise the set are more in line with those early Sacher-Pelz tapes:more experimental and diverse, but also less focused."Maidanek Bakterium", however, begins more like classic MB:distorted tape loops and broken rhythm machines drift along, locked in a definite loop but exhibiting subtle changes, like the sound of decay.At times, he transitions to less harsh tape manipulations of pre-recorded music, but goes out on a rawer note.

The following "Musique Belzec" starts with cheap echo-effect noise and shrill raygun like squeaks before settling into a groove based on a crudely manipulated tape of percussion.It is this jerky sort of beat, nowhere near steady, that ends up propelling the piece, and it leads to a junky, yet memorable structure that is reminiscent of the best Merzbow from the era.On the second disc, both "Mutant Brain" and "Mord Bahnhof" are comparatively simpler affairs.The first is heavily built upon Bianchi starting and stopping tape recordings, and with its filtering and odd musical source material, resulting in a sparse, less captivating piece of music.The final "Mord Banhoff" sees Bianchi working with rising and falling pitch bends, leading to an almost sea-sickness like sensation that transitions into abrasive detuned radio.It has a looser construction than much of his work, but it still coalesces very well.

samples:

• Maidanek Bakterium
• Musique Belzec
• Mord Bahnhof

 

Fetish Tape may have been recorded earlier in 1980, but the two pieces that make up this early release are closer to the style he honed during his prestigious 1981-1983 run of LPs.The first of the two untitled pieces features open space and a semblance of rhythm, as a bass-synth like passage propels it into a more industrial framework.It is relatively simple in its composition, but the sense of order and structure is more composed and less chaotic than some of his early works, transitioning nicely between looser spaces and grinding noise.

The second piece is slower, but somehow less depressive sounding than many of his latter works.There are sludgy, sustained passages of synth buzz and detuned radio that are similar to what he would work with brilliantly just a few years later.Here it is a bit less focused, and at times drifts into more textural-heavy, musique concrete realms than the standard proto noise/power electronics style his work is most associated with, but all the important parts are definitely here and working together to create some unique sounding work.

While I am happy with these transfers of previously impossible to find (other than nth generation bootlegs) or never available private tapes, they clearly show an artist in development.I, like many, are more than happy to delve deeply into these early Maurizio Bianchi releases and all of the lo-fi tape noise and broken effects unit splendor, but it is not everyone’s cup of tea.For more casual fans that have only a passing knowledge of his work, consider these to be akin to rough demos when set alongside his more noteworthy material.

samples:

• Untitled #1
• Untitled #2 (Excerpt 1)
• Untitled #2 (Excerpt 2)

 

03 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

Over the years, I have come to be extremely wary of any collaborative releases involving artists I like, as all they tend to fall into one of two categories: disappointing compromises or (much more frequently) tossed-off improvisations.  Consequently, I did not have particularly high hopes for this album, particularly since so many recent Fenn O’Berg releases have failed to live up to their enormous potential.  Happily, however, It’s Hard for Me to Say I’m Sorry largely delivers upon the promise heralded by its luminous participants.  Given that Fennesz has a much more distinctive aesthetic than the chameleonic O’Rourke, it is not surprising at all that this sounds a hell of a lot like a Fennesz album at times, but the line separating laptop-era O’Rourke from Fennesz is a very blurry and narrow one.  In any case, this is quite a strong album, albeit one that starts to lag a bit in the second half.

Editions Mego

Suspiciously, this album is divided into two longform pieces that each clock in at around twenty minutes, an arrangement that usually smacks of improvisatory origins.  If that is indeed how these pieces originated, however, Fennesz and O'Rourke definitely did a fine job covering their tracks when they edited everything together, as both "I Just Want You to Stay" and "Wouldn’t Wanna Be Swept Away" (for the most part, anyway) both feel like gorgeously lush and deliberate compositions that follow a coherent arc.  There is definitely a drone-like drifting amorphousness running throughout the entire album, but the ebbing and flowing is too effective to be purely spontaneous, as is the vibrant interplay between the various elements.

The opening "I Just Want You to Stay" begins with warm, woozy guitar swells that sometimes sound like an EBow and other times seem like pedal steel, though any sense of bliss is soon curdled by some rather grinding and dissonant textures that start to creep up through the haze.  For a while it seems like those darker elements are going to take over the piece, but they unexpectedly dissolve into a beautiful vista of lush exhalation-like chords, watery shimmer, and a tapestry of distorted guitar arpeggios that accumulate to a fuzzed-out roar.  Gradually, Fennesz makes his presence more prominent, however, as the piece coheres into a stuttering, pixelated melody that sounds like a malfunctioning synthesizer while guitar swells gently undulate in the background like passing clouds.  Throughout it all, the duo manage to strike a perfect balance between warmth, beauty, and controlled violence: the piece may be pretty, but some broken, corroded, and gnarled touches are always gnawing at its edges right up until the unexpectedly dreamy Endless Summer-esque coda of multilayered laptop heaven.

"Wouldn’t Wanna Be Swept Away" opens with a very different tone, as thick, sleepy "vintage synth" tones unfold a melancholy motif colored by gentle guitar shimmer and hiss.  Slowly, however, it transforms into more guitar-based fare, as heavily processed and ringing shoegaze-damaged arpeggios form a backdrop to O'Rourke's languorously sliding pedal steel.  In fact, it sounds a lot like two separate and artfully competing songs, as the more frenzied and distorted guitars seem to constantly threaten to eclipse the pedal steel with their engulfing roar.  That creates quite an effective tension before the entire piece seems to get sucked into a black hole of watery, burbling psychedelia.  Unsurprisingly, that does not proceed predictably either, as the more New Age-y atmosphere soon finds itself beset by some more ominous and space-y textures.  Later, it transforms yet again into something resembling a deconstructed rock song embellished by fluttering, warbling, and pitch-shifting synth tones.  I suppose it works on at least one level, as it has a definite slow-motion, fragmented, and druggy appeal, but it is a bit too meandering for my taste.  Also, O’Rourke and Fennesz do not pull an unexpected rabbit out of their hat at the end like they did with "I Just Want You to Stay."

While I like the controlled storm of guitars at the beginning of "Swept Away" quite a lot, the piece only succeeds as a collection of inspired moments rather than as a composition.  It definitely feels like Fennesz and O’Rourke had more time to fill than they had ideas with that one, as it seems like they were running out the clock a bit and allowed some themes to conspicuously overstay their welcome.  Consequently, the real meat of this album is the absolutely sublime "I Just Want You to Stay," which totally justifies the album’s existence by itself.  Aside from that, the secondary appeal of It’s Hard for Me to Say I’m Sorry lies in how simultaneously similar and dissimilar this album sounds to each artist's solo work, as it is rare treat to experience a more loose and extended strain of Fennesz's vision and Jim O’Rourke is the perfect foil for such an outing.  He is probably the perfect foil for just about any musical endeavor, actually.  While I wish the duo had spent more time perfecting the album’s second half, I suppose Christian Fennesz could not linger around Tokyo forever and a mostly great album that limps to a close is still a mostly great album.

• I Just Want You to Stay (excerpt one)
• I Just Want You to Stay (excerpt two)
• Wouldn't Wanna Be Swept Away

 

03 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

When I heard Klara Lewis’s self-released EP back in 2012, I was deeply impressed with how effectively she shaped her "found sound" collages into song-like structures, but worried that such an abstract and purist approach would be extremely limiting in the long run (it is hard to craft hooks without vocals or instruments, obviously).  As it turns out, my misgivings were largely unfounded, as Lewis has proven to be quite adept indeed at finding inventive and varied ways to exploit her unusual palette.  In fact, she seems to only be getting better and better at unlocking its deeper possibilities rather than backing herself into a corner.  That said, the content of Too probably will not surprise anyone who picked up 2014's Ett, though it may be a little less rhythmically focused.  That is not a detriment though.  In fact, it may even be liberating, as Too definitely feels more rich, otherworldly, and emotionally resonant than its predecessor.  More importantly, it features "Beaming," which is a work of absolute brilliance.

Editions Mego

Over the course of her brief career, Klara Lewis has quietly revealed herself to be a remarkably assured artist working within some rather rarified terrain.  On one hand, her liberal use of non-musical source material makes her very much an experimental music artist, yet she seems genuinely intent on shaping her extremely non-commercial sounds into almost-songs with almost-hooks and almost-grooves.  It is a tough balance to maintain, but it is a welcome departure from the willful insularity and obtuseness that plagues so much experimental music.  I think the most succinct and glib way to describe her niche is "it sounds like someone trying to DJ a party armed only with albums from Touch artists."  Such sounds definitely do not lend themselves to floor-filling fun easily, yet Lewis often achieves a kind of understated, spectral genius and pulsing subterranean throb with her work, feeling like a bleary, kaleidoscopic, and dreamlike afterimage of nightlife rather than the flesh-and-blood actuality.

Lewis maintains remarkably high standards throughout Too's nine pieces, never stagnating, delving into filler, erring into derivative territory, or degenerating into more predictable or straightforward fare.  It is all good.  There are several songs that stand out for various reasons, however.  The first is the rather brief "Twist," which is shaped from reverberant metallic clangs, an erratic rhythm of dynamically active and phase-shifting clicks, shadowy drones, and an obsessively repeating swell that sounds like a single organ chord processed into unrecognizability.  The following "Too" is something of a left-field masterpiece, opening with an unexpectedly slow  and sensuous groove built from backwards drums, ghostly vocal snippets, and an actual bass line.  After dissolving briefly into abstraction, however, the groove reappears in much heavier and explosive fashion, as it sounds like Lewis is now backing a shit-hot free-jazz ensemble of trumpeting elephants.  Later, "Beaming" reaches even more dazzling heights, opening with surprising warm and hissing drones that sound like they are being dreamed by a futuristic machine.  Gradually, some distant field recordings start to seep in, as do some crackling and echoing intercom transmissions.  The overall effect is both absolutely gorgeous and absolutely hallucinatory.  In fact, it may very well be the most perfect piece of music that I will hear this year.  Describing it as lushly melancholic and otherworldly is a good start, but it actually evokes something far more unique than that: it is almost like simultaneously hearing our world and a beautiful alien transmission at the same time in heavenly juxtaposition.

As far as flaws are concerned...well, there just are not any to be found.  At worst, Lewis is content to merely weave a quietly throbbing industrial reverie between her more ambitious pieces, but even those are wonderfully distinctive and satisfying.  I want to say that the genius of Too lies primarily in the lightness of Lewis's touch, but this album is actually a goddamn pile-up of unwaveringly great decisions: the textures, the mood, the song durations, the production…just everything.  The lightness of touch is quite crucial, however, as Too is a gorgeously vaporous and beautiful album shot through with just enough disquieting darkness to make it all feel like a precarious dream.  Such a highwire act could have been easily derailed by something as simple as a clear melody or a too-forceful rhythm, but none of that happens and spell remains both intact and beguiling until the last notes fade.  Klara Lewis is a sonic sorceress and this album is amazing.

• Beaming
• Too
• Twist

 

03 July 2016

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Albums and Singles

Haley Fohr's latest album quixotically departs from her Circuit des Yeux project in quite a bizarre and ambitious way.  Half performance art and half avant-garde country album, Jackie Lynn purports to be last recordings left behind by a mythic musician/iconoclast/cocaine dealer before she vanished from her apartment after a "domestic disturbance."  Fohr’s commitment to this elaborate conceit is quite impressive, concocting both a fake newspaper story and mini-documentary to support her enigmatic new persona.  As for the songs, they are a bit of a mixed bag, as Fohr's deep and powerful voice is a very uneasy fit for anything resembling popular music.  After awkwardly veering between bombast and kitsch for a few songs, however, Fohr eventually hits her stride and unleashes some compelling new twists on well-worn formulae.

Thrill Jockey