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24 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

Nice Nice are Jason Buehler and Mark Shirazi: a multi-talented duo fromPortland, Oregon who have demonstrated through their brilliant fulllength album, Chrome, that they can fill sound to the wallswith only a guitar and drums and some skilled real-time effects processing.With this series—a limited quartet of numbered CD EPs which had to bemail ordered directly through Temporary Residence—I hate to admit, onthe whole, I'm underwhelmed.

Temporary Residence

What the duo proved on Chrome is that there was no timewasted: the songs were well-developed even though most of them werequite short (I'd love to comment on Yesss but I haveyet to find it in any store). "Born of Bells part 1" opens Spring with a burstof energy, as if something grand is about to takeplace, which, sadly, never does. Approximately two minutes goes by ofletting the guitar sort of echo on an auto-pilot loop before drummingcan be heard. The drones permeate throughout. The interplay betweenJason and Mark is somewhat disconnected and doesn't end up constructingwhat Iconsider to be a real song, as they come together in some sort of arenarock band finale acrobatics at the end. For the rest of the EP, songscome very close to breaking out, but never quite do. If I'm not mistaken, I think the themeis to wait until the end of the track and suddenly start doing something that forms the basis of asong, but kill it before a song actually breaks out. I find it irritating, likeone of those long jokes whose punchline is basically the pain ofbearing an extended story for some lame, anticlimactic end.

"Crown & Corona" starts off Summer with more promise, as an evil psych rocklike melody emerges from the low drones of the first track, thenbuilds, but once again, things don't erupt as they sound like they wantto. From here, the band could launch into anything either like CometsOn Fire-ish or Acid Mothers-y (or best yet, like Nice Nice) and I wouldhave no complaints, but things instead simply quiet down to anotherboring drone, drifting into a Hawaiian-like guitar bit with somewordless vocalizations at one point and some chintzy effects on thedrums later. The drifting country guitars on the following "Cowboys Are Indians" are quitepretty, but a song like this would only do well as a valley, nestedbetween some more rawkus bits. The third and fourth tracks, "Crickets & Cicadas (parts 1 and 2)," are equallyas forgettable, drifting into ennui like the EP before it, with thelast track that simply doesn't want to end.

Fallis the silver lining. When my package arrived this pastweek from TRL with the discs inside I admit I was far less enthusiasticas Iwas when the first two EPs came in, however, I was impressed with whatwas contained. The first track, "Dawn of Dusk,"opens with a peppy acoustic guitar andmelodica bit. It's friendly, original, pleasant and fun. It's notsomething I would expect from Nice Nice but it sounds "complete."(Plus, after the first two EPs ofthis series I honestly don't know what to expect any more.) Acousticguitar drives the rest of these songs, with some external soundeffects, backwards sounding electronic guitar riffs, and otherunidentifiable percussion, all of which build actual songs, containingmelody and structure, something the rest of the CDs in this seriessadly lack. It ends with "Down,Down, Down Pt. 2," a wistful walking-paced guitar melody which isperfect for sitting on the front porch, watching the sun go down, andhaving a beer. This is what good music is all about.

Winter,unfortunately, restores the disappointment set forthby the first two EPs with one long 22 minute song, "And Many More."I've heard Tibetan bowls and bowing of cymbalsdone from bands going back over 20 years (just about every band who hasa website on Brainwashed did it back in the 1980s), and I absolutelyhate drum solos. "And Many More" is one painfully long andpointless wank. If people could buy these separately then I wouldstrongly recommend sticking only with the Fall,but, with any luck, the band will find out what got the best responseout of the fans and take hints for the production of their next fullalbum. I know they can do better than this.

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Born of Bells (part 1) [from Spring]
Cowboys Are Indians [from Summer]
Dawn of Dusk [from Fall]
And Many More [from Winter]

24 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

Though they originally hail from Washington, DC, Measles, Mumps, Rubella’s sound is not the stereotypical slashing punk sound popularized by bands like Fugazi and Jawbox immediately associated with the city. MMR are, however, clearly the kind of band that’s listened to Public Image Ltd very carefully.

Doubling Cube

On the band’s first single “Zusammen Mit Motown/ Lighter’s Out,” the group sketched out a sound that was a pencil rubbing of spacey dynamics and squawking post punk guitar. On their debut album, the band provides a continuation for their intense, spacey sound. Robert Austin’s spacey, dub inspired bass lines bring to mind the rhythmic foundations laid by PiL bassist Jah Wobble twenty years ago and vocalist Chuck Bettis’ bears more than a passing resemblance to John Lydon’s nasal whine. It’s a sound that the band has cultivated since releasing their first single back in 2001 and, thanks to the increased fidelity and years of touring under their belt, comes into its own here.

Opener “Algorithm of Desire” grooves on an unrelenting bass line and a simple and effective guitar figure, until the band kicks up the tempo and drives the song on home. What makes the songs here more than just dance-punk posturing is that the band is just as interested in the texture of the song as they are in getting people to dance. “Fantastic Success” is another great song that begins with gently plucked bass and softly chiming guitar before opening up into a spaced-out jam. While MMR have crafted a set of songs that work well as a cohesive whole, one problem that can be raised is whether or not these songs can work on their on. When played back to back, these songs groove and writhe.

Despite this, their impact is somewhat lessened when they pop up in shuffle and I sometimes find myself reaching for the skip button. The weakest song here, “Mysthstery of Zygo,” sounds like a limp Throbbing Gristle and doesn’t seem to add much as a whole. On the opposite end of the spectrum, “Apples or Echoes” writhes with otherworldly menace.

Minus a few complaints, MMR have released an album that shows great potential. Their sound seems to stand apart, ever so slightly, from the rigid and often static dance-punk hordes. By emphasizing texture and atmosphere over herky jerky rhythms and slashing guitar work, Fantastic Success proves to be an album that can be revisited over and over again.

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24 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

David Jackman's release schedule obscures far too many of his best recordings, apparently to the extent that some his best work goes unreleased for years at a time. Die Stadt's 3" release of two never-before-heard 10" records exemplify why Organum has always been one of the most consistently excellent and intriguing projects of the last twenty-plus years.

Die Stadt

Both Die Hennen Zähne and Maus are included on this 18 minute disc and both are ten inch records that David Jackman had just lying around in his archives. The opening, "Die Kralle," is described as a David Jackman track from the early '80s, separating it in some ways from Jackman's work as Organum. As the assumed A-side to "Die Hennen Zähne," it is the calm before the storm, demonstrating Jackman's ability to subconsciously insert melody and rhythm into tracks that sprawl and yawn like consumptive deserts. The musical components that vibrate and stretch across the track are stunning, blistering with reservation and acute suspense. The dynamics between the low, bellowing wind instruments and Jackman's kitchen-sink rhythms are powerful and mark a space where music and non-music meet beautifully without sounding contrived or completely amateur. It's a testament to Jackman's abilities as a noise-maker and a writer. Compositional power combined well with abstract temerity is so rarely exhibited as it is on the opening track. "Die Hennen Zähne" is a far more confrontational work composed of shattering glass and moaning horns. It isn't as immediately striking as "Die Kralle," but the energy it manages to accumulate is impressive. If "Die Kralle" shines darkly, then "Die Hennen Zähne" is the realization of all the brooding minimalism kept hidden before.

"Maus" reserves the position as the central piece on this disc. Its duration and volume forces the other tracks to swirl about it, as though it were the musical cousin of a massive black hole. The constant whistle and Druidical ohm that permeate its body has a whirlpool effect, rotating in the darkness perpetually, ominously, and without reason. As enthralling as it is, it seems out of place with the rest of the disc, especially considering how short most of the other pieces are and how they each bare some sign of musique concrète's influence. Aside from the shattering glass on the title track, "Kazi" features metal pipes and objects being dragged about as its main sound sources. This live performance featuring Emma O'Bong and Michael Prime highlights Jackman's ability to successfully record and use object-made sounds without treading over too familiar ground. The pipe-like instrument that can be heard rolling about throughout the track becomes the focal point for the piece until a large crash ends the track and the whole improvisation fades away gently.

Jackman's exemplary reputation stems from his ability to use strange sounds musically, without touching on anything too conceptual to be enjoyable. Despite his sometimes radical release schedule and his reputation for releasing pricey, severely limited runs of 7" records and obscure CDs, his work is nearly always worth the patience it takes to find. Die Hennen Zähne is limited to 600 copies, however, and will likely move quickly given the fanatacism that often and perhaps justly surrounds Organum's catalogue.

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23 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

As a duo Moha! seem to be reaching for a place of their own and failing. Settled between the large comforting bosoms of other discordant and unpredictable bands, Anders Hana and Morten J. Olsen are either jerking their instruments around as though handling a dead chicken by the neck or playing loud, formed jams and sounding indistinguishable from their brethren.

Rune Grammofon

Saying they're indistinguishable is unfair; I think I'd rather say that I'd rather not distinguish them at all. This young duo is musically impressive, playing their instruments with the kind of precision that all young musicians wish they could harness. That doesn't make up for their lack of creativity, however. I could care less if these two could perform Beethoven's fifth on just two instruments, in the dark, at the bottom of a river, chained to a rock, and lacking a breathing apparatus. They can't write their own stuff with any measure of gravity or persistent energy. Other similar bands at least have an energy or a mystifying and completely unexplainable candor that makes listening to their records fun. Moha! simply stumble through ten tracks in order to reach the end. Their awkward percussive sounds and firmly square guitar playing imitate plenty of abstract, formless rock with all the success of the most ardent fan boy, but they don't ever explode or find a center of their from which they might expand.

This gives Raus Aus Stavanger that dreaded academic quality. For all their ability they aren't really working anything out of their instruments that might be new enough to stir any excitement. Only so many records can be released pushing the same limit of composition and style before everyone gets familiar with it and wishes somebody would write a decent tune again. In so far as noise, tonality, and timbre are concerned, there's nothing that shines, either. Olsen can drum out a storm of death metal proportions, but with flair. He moves all over his drum set constantly, pulling fills and unexpected turns out his ass like a well-seasoned veteran peppered with tasmanian devil cartoon antics. When he does this, Hana pulls out all the appropriate distorted non-riffs and gurgling dynamics that turn his guitar into a horn instrument more than anything else, but it just doesn't sound fresh or particularly ear-catching. The craziness congeals for brief moments only to let all the tension ease away with a suitable orgasm. I've heard friends churn out this same sort of hazy guitar work just sitting around and having fun. They weren't intent on making any of it into a song just because they had a nice tone.

When Moha! rock on two tracks they are passable as a band that I'd love to see live. I'm sure all sorts of shit would end up burning and I would leave observing bruises on everyone's bodies, but because the band tends towards prolonged "experiments" with percussive clatter, the whole album makes even the quality of their live performances doubtful. I can only take so much live messing about before I get bored and wish somebody would play something even remotely similar to a traditional song. I get bored of the same old thing just like everyone else, but music like this is starting to sound like the same old thing.

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23 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

Those waiting on the next Stars of the Lid record can resteasy now as here is another diamond of the Texashinterlands, shining low and weary through the endless fenced-in wild yards andupturned bedroom windows of another druggy afternoon community.

Elevator Bath

Stars come out early when this dry wombsurrounds, when Texan hills and houses become miniature ziggurats under heat-lamp,and faces adopt the timelessness of cut Roman masks without hesitation. The music reflects the gauzy thickness of theair, the feeling of conscious breath, of thorough body suspension, but rock-gardenclean, sacred sterile, and nearly monolithic in the clarity of each second’snoise. Guitar becomes keyboard becomesair-conditioned wall becomes air itself.

Howling, chiming, cyclical drone patterns can consume the space whilesimultaneously occupying some central issuance-point, some quiet locus in theroom like a melodious pulpit obscured as a shoe or a sideways piece of trash,riddled in glyphic writing and piping away with pieces of the world’s happiestdeath knell, maybe the sound Sisyphus likes when he’s doing normal stuff, cooking,mowing the wild lawn or just laid-out between the bed and the burning window.

Pacione makes primordial ambient drone soundsimply made, a comfortable place though inseparable from the ur-primitive impulsethat keeps me slouching back for clues into what is transforming thiseverydayness to pure light, to slow-motion heat. Sisyphus is asprawling meditation of grainy, slow-motion radiance, if derivative then also ahumble and transcendent work.

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23 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

Anyone with a cheap drum machine and a loose understanding of the bassguitar can probably crank out a record better than this in acouple of hours; but they'll need a dirty 4-track cassette recorder tocapture it any worse.

Tigerbeat 6

When I first put this record on, I thought that there must be some sortof gimmick. It seemed only reasonable that this was the product of apair of twin brothers living somewhere remote in the Appalachianmountains who happened upon a drum machine through some The Gods Must Be Crazysort of incident where a cheap rhythm box fell from the sky to perplexthe simple people who'd never seen such a thing before. If this wereoutsider music, at least it would have an excuse for failing to producea single worthwhile musical moment. But there's no such interestingback-story for Genders, I'm afraid.

The truth is far more banal: Genders is a couple of art-punksfrom Detroit who may put on a fashionably quirky live show, but whohaven't managed to capture anything on record that's remotely honest orinteresting. The songs on There's Something in the Treats mightbe aiming for some minimalist kind of anxious dub, but the playing isso bad, the rhythms so mechanical (and not in a good way), and themelodies so pedestrian that this sounds like the demos my friends whowere way too in to Ministry for their own good used to make in highschool. There's certainly an atmosphere created by the wailing,no-effort vocals and the sloppy bass lines and the squeals of noiseenhanced by tape hiss and a muddy recording, but it would take acynical mind indeed to appreciate anything about that atmosphere.

The problem for me is that this whole thing is so phony. It'smanufactured to be bad and intentionally stiff and lo-fi and thosequirks are supposed to be part of the style, when a more honestapproach would be just to write songs and try to make them connect withpeople who aren't along for the retro-fetish, Sprockets ride.If this were 1992, I'd say that this sounds like 16 year olds trying todo something like Bauhaus, but given the time and technology that'scome since those days, this sounds more like a hackneyed attempt tosell '80s kitsch and alienation as fashion. If the members ofGenders are really as tortured as their songs would like us to believe,why hamstring everything with shitty production values and retroelectro beats?

There's a scene in Liquid Sky where one ofthe hopeless art goons is singing a horrible, motorik kind of Kraftwerkmeets no wave tune and as embarrassing as that scene is to watch(though it was brilliantly sampled by Phonecia), this record is atleast a factor of ten worse. Genders parades around the samepretentious flaunting of a lack of talent or effort that makes thecharacter in Liquid Sky seem so clueless.I was honestly shocked at how much I despised this record. I'll giveanything on Tigerbeat 6 the time of day without question just becausethe label has a remarkable track record for finding artists who havesomething to say, and something important to contribute. This one flieswell wide of the mark, and that's a shame, but ultimately the label'sbig enough and successful enough to drop out a few clunkers. Thisis definitely one.

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23 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

Simon Kealoha's Calika project brings a fresh perspective to bedroom vibe electronica. Fractured and reconstructed though it may be, Small Talk Kills Me is a record composed of songs more than experiments and that's a welcome change of pace.

Audiobulb

While I enjoy some deconstructed instrumentalism on occasion, Calika drives home how the approach of beating up and making up sounds can work in an emotionally relevant way when everything is put together with care. Small Talk Kills Me is full of the kind of sonic detours and lapses into exploration that many artists make entire records out of, but those excursions are always roped in by structures and melodies. Knowing the difference between following a divergent path through a composition with a purpose and simply noodling is something that a lot of artists working with this sort of sound set never manage. Luckily, Kealoha is able to balance his need to experiment with his impulse to communicate here, and it pays off well.

"Jolly Kclit" starts off with some glitchy rambling that made me wonder if this album was going to chase its tail for an hour, but by the 35 second mark there's a stuttering beat, bass melody, and fragments of looped sound that build nicely into an emotional chorus. Guitar punctuates the mix, but this hardly sounds like the live-recorded sort of "folk music with a laptop" approach. I imagine that every sound that's been recorded here has been run through the digital ringer to make it sit in Calika's kaleidoscopic mix of song and noise.

The album's quieter moments recall experiments in field recording, but they too maintain a melody that drives them forward, keeping them from hanging around like so much wallpaper. "Quarter Smile" builds on some looped guitar and backwards melodies and a simple electronic beat that creates a perfect mood. There's even a Joanna Newsom reference in one of the song titles, which doesn't seem totally out of place even in a landscape of click-pop beats.

All of this reminds me of the album's title, Small Talk Kills Me, and as someone who resembles that title in every way, I find in this record the kind of thing I'll put on when I'm at home alone, not really seeking out any company other than a collection of comfortable songs. Small talk, like so many conventions of social interaction can deaden the spirit, and Kealoha realizes that being alone with your thoughts or a good record isn't necessarily isolationist posturing. This record plays like a knowing tip of the cap to all of the other bedroom knob twiddlers and 6-string strummers and bookish quiet types who'd just as soon interact via proxy than get together for drinks. We're all out here, Calika, and we hear you just fine, we just may not be seeing you out at the pub any time soon.

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22 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

For most in the international community, the last few years have been anything but good, chock full of bad news and an ever-worsening outlook for the future (United Defense stockholders aside). But for Brooklyn's Dr. Israel, all the war, death and destruction around the globe had a silver lining: how else would he have been able to muster all the outrage and righteous indignation that is Patterns of War?
Roir

His first album in three years and the first released under the loose collective Dreadtone International, Patterns of War sees Israel's signature sound—a unique, loose amalgam of reggae, dub, jungle and hip-hop plus whatever else Israel sees fit to throw in—complemented by two female backup singers, the deep-throated Lady K and the lighter, more silky Chemda. Their mere addition is a bit of a departure for Israel, but more striking is the ultra-polished sound, a faux pas for most roots rockers, as reggae music tends loses a little bit of its vitality with too many slick studio tricks.
But Patterns of War does its best to make up for it with the sheer weight of its message. The album lives and breathes political activism, from garden-variety criticism of American foreign policy (Tetze) to prayers for wage slaves struggling to make ends meet day-to-day (Counting Out Stones).

While it's sure to make cynics issue a collective eye-roll, there's no doubting Dreadtone International's sincerity. When the message and the music hit peaks simultaneously, the record is truly moving: music to rock both the body and the nation in the best roots tradition. That is, if you can get past the kicker. Unless you're a 16-year old heading to your first war protest (and, you hope, your first joint with that dreadlocked cutie afterwards), you've heard it all before numerous times. For all the amazing musical blends Israel welds together, there's not a single unique thought—or even a truly memorable delivery. And in a cruel twist, the pedestrian lyrical material makes it difficult to tune in and focus on the real gem of the album: Israel's amazing production chops. Ironically, it's a challenge that's made all the more difficult the more earnest the album tries to be.

The final blow is that Israel's impressive instrumentation compounds the problem. It's truly breathtaking in its scope and the ways it soars and dives, but the complexity and disparity are wearisome. Consider: the supercharged Middle-Eastern tinged jungle-hip hop of Tetze abruptly fades to a throbbing dub cadence punctuated with a lonely piano, which is then in turn followed by Bad Brainsian punk—only played at one-eighth speed.

Dr. Irsael just tried to do much with too much. He would do well to simplify, and take solace in the reminders that Guernica was painted in black-and-white, and no album—no matter how multifaceted—can save the world.

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22 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

Six songs of orchestral electronic suspension populate Ryan Teague's first album on Type Records and the majority of them are fairly bland examples of music I've heard before. I could toss the terms evocative or pretty or hypnotizing around all I wanted, but it wouldn't change the fact that I've heard better examples of this style elsewhere.

Type

Pick up a couple of Steve Reich records or give Arvo Pärt a chance and Teague's particularly static compositions will probably sound like an imitation of their style. Situated somewhere between the notion of sound pictures and the intellectual world of alternative composition, Teague's music often sounds incomplete and incoherent, wandering about aimlessly, swelling with all kinds of meaningless movement. A prelude is technically a piece of music that is supposed to introduce another piece or set of music, but these six preludes only introduce more introductions. It is a frustrating experience that conveys a sense of picturesque beauty without providing any context.

When Teague's magnificent strings break and swell with pride there's little to associate with their sound. I'm left waiting for some kind of dynamic shift to occur and it never comes. All the music simply fades away. With Teague teasing me like this, I almost wish he would've opted to keep his music less dramatic so that I wouldn't expect more from it. All of "Prelude III" is a gorgeous combination of piano and a skipping string track that sounds wonderful for the first two minutes or so. It never goes anywhere however and Teague simply adds new electronic noise to the track in order to keep the whole thing fresh. But he never quite gets to that point and unfortunately the whole thing fades away instead of moving naturally.

What's left after all the frustration is a record that would be perfect for sleeping or ignoring during a busy day. At times certain melodies might catch my attention because they are well written or simply stand out above the haze of sounds that populate the background, but I'm never compelled to give the record much thought. This is ambient music in the most Eno-like fashion. And just like Music for Airports there is a sense of serenity covering every note and synthetic process, but there is little to hold onto and fall in love with immediately. Unlike many ambient records, however, Teague has accomplished this odd serenity by maximizing the amount of sources he uses on each song. It's amazing how busy some of these songs actually are despite functioning as little more than background music.

Before I know it, "Prelude VI" is playing and I'm not too sure I remember a single melodic phrase from anywhere on the album. I remember hovering voices and twinkling piano, but nothing solid sticks out. "Prelude VI" sounds like a real song, however, and is the only track on the album to possess a real beginning, middle, or end. Ryan Teague's personal touch stands out most on this final prelude, removing itself from whatever academic background it might have and touching more personal and effective themes through its use of rhythm and mechanical sound. Once it ends I'm left with that track and that track alone stuck in my head. I'll listen to the entire album all the way through just to have it surprise me one more time, but it will be the only thing I care about in the end. Teague clearly knows how to orchestrate both modern and classical instruments, but it is his inability to arrange and fulfill the promise of his own compositions that make this album flounder more than soar.

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22 February 2006

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Albums and Singles

This is the first full length collaboration between noise’s oldworkhorse, Merzbow, and one of the more exciting artists in the field,John Wiese. The album is slow to take off but when it does, all enginesare blazing and both eardrums are burst. It is one of the betterreleases from Merzbow in recent months and another string to Wiese’sbow.

Misanthropic Agenda

Multiplication starts out with typical Merzbow all out noise and static. Wiese and ‘bow aren’t breaking any new ground on “Bonanza,” it still is the aural equivalent of toilet paper soaked in caustic soda. Despite it being completely ear destroying, it still seemed like both artists were not giving it their all. The feeling I got was that both of them were holding back, testing the waters between them. The album continues for a couple tracks as a mildly interesting but ultimately predictable assault.

As the album progresses it gets more interesting. “Spell” provides lulls and drops in the noise before slapping you in the face, repeatedly. There are lots of fascinating sounds being used on this track, they are only there for a fleeting moment but they make a very welcome change to the usual feedback and white noise. There’s one part that sounds like the noise from the rails as a subway train stops but the train is spontaneously combusting as it does it.

The last two tracks are where things go from interesting to riveting. “Erotic Westernscape” starts from a roar of sound that made me feel the same way that Sunn O))) (who both artists have also collaborated with) manage to make me feel. A traditional Merzbow wall of noise takes over but there is a sound like a detuned guitar feedbacking drifting in and out of the mix. The noise softens and a more atmospheric droning breaks up the piece before the noise returns with a vengeance. The title track is the only track produced by Akita. It starts out with the sounds of gunfire and tape hiss before building up to shattering electronic noise. A wide palette of sounds covering the audible range makes “Multiplication” both captivating and highly unpleasant to listen to. At almost half an hour, it is a rewarding endurance test.

Multiplication starts off shaky but works its way up to something somewhat special. At first the album felt like neither artist wanted to push things too far in fear of stepping on the other’s toes. However towards the end Wiese and Akita both get into the flow and make some exquisite noise (especially in the more ambient sections of Multiplication). Should these two men continue to collaborate, a truly monumental slab of noise is inevitable.

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