After two weekends away, the backlog has become immense, so we present a whopping FOUR new episodes for the spooky season!
Episode 717 features Medicine, Fennesz, Papa M, Earthen Sea, Nero, memotone, Karate, ØKSE, Otis Gayle, more eaze, Jon Mueller, and Lauren Auder + Wendy & Lisa.
Episode 718 has The Legendary Pink Dots, Throbbing Gristle, Von Spar / Eiko Ishibashi / Joe Talia / Tatsuhisa Yamamoto, Ladytron, Cate Brooks, Bill Callahan, Jill Fraser, Angelo Harmsworth, Laibach, and Mike Cooper.
Episode 719 music by Angel Bat Dawid, Philip Jeck, A.M. Blue, KMRU, Songs: Ohia, Craven Faults, tashi dorji, Black Rain, The Ghostwriters, Windy & Carl.
Episode 720 brings you tunes from Lewis Spybey, Jules Reidy, Mogwai, Surya Botofasina, Patrick Cowley, Anthony Moore, Innocence Mission, Matt Elliott, Rodan, and Sorrow.
Photo of a Halloween scene in Ogunquit by DJ Jon.
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Jack Dangers has been recording, performing, and releasing music for nearly three decades in Meat Beat Manifesto, Tino Corp, and Perennial Divide. Dangers’ resume as a producer and remixer includes David Bowie, Depeche Mode, Nine Inch Nails, Coil, Merzbow, Twilight Circus, Public Enemy, Cranes, David Byrne and many, many more. Apart from the noise, beat, and dub driven Meat Beat Manifesto, Dangers has released numerous solo recordings probing the depths of sound of analogue synths and tape manipulation on labels such as Important Records, Shadow Records, Bella Union, Brainwashed, and his own Tapelab and Flexidisc imprints. Bathyscaphe Trieste is more in line with his critically acclaimed releases such as the Forbidden Planet Explored, Music for Planetarium, and Electronic Music from Tapelab.
In 1960, a two-person bathyscaphe (“deep boat”) named Trieste reached a record maximum depth in the deepest known part of the Earth’s oceans, the Challenger Deep, in the Mariana Trench near Guam. The five hour descent was made possible by the earth’s gravitational pull on nine tons of lead shot, while the three hour ascent was aided by a balloon filled with gasoline. Only James Cameron has returned to the Challenger Deep, and is allegedly in production of a film of the journey. Dangers’ composition honoring this journey is the product of years of work, featuring super slowed down tape manipulations of anlog sythesizers (often 30x as slow), bounced from machine to machine to achieve the appropriate soundtrack for a vessel on an exploratory journey into uncharted depths under massive amounts of physical pressure. Jack’s intention was to create music from a mysterious world which mixed at the bottom of the Mariana trench at the Challenger Deep Bedroom Quilt Studio. The disc comes with CD-ROM content of 35 minutes of video footage edited and set to music by Jack Dangers.
Watery crescents delight with the soul of an analogue-based futuristic technology, leaving the audience with a wide span of trans-space that competes with the vortex of the unknown. – Igloo
Jack has the world’s only functioning EMS Synthi 100, and, damn it, he’s gonna use it. – XLR8R
discography:
“Sounds of the 20th Century,” Flexidisc, 2000
“Tape Music,” Flexidisc, 2001
“Variaciones Espectrales,” Bella Union, 2002
“Forbidden Planet Explored,” Important Records, 2004
“Loudness Clarifies/Electronic Music from Tapelab,” Important Records, 2004
“Music for Planetarium,” Brainwashed Handmade, 2008
Sachiko has been involved in the Japanese music scene since the late 1980s, but recent releases have shown a growing sense of experimentation that is as beautiful as it is dark, quite often within the same composition, such as on Loka in the Black Ship. Sometimes delicate, sometimes harsh, but never forgettable, it is a high point in a strong run of solo and collaborative records.
While she is a multi instrumentalist, it is her use of voice that stands out the most throughout these seven pieces.It can be heard on almost every song here, in drastically different contexts.On "Der Fliegende Devadatta," uncomfortable undulating electronics set the stage, while her voice is shaped and molded into guttural noises and animalistic grunts, resulting in a rather disturbing, monstrous sound overall.
On "Black Cakam," what sounds like scat singing through a bank of digital effects becomes the foundation for a piece of harsh noise that builds into feedback and shrill squeals that is pleasantly painful and chaotic.The 17-plus minute "Loka" is the centerpiece of the album, and has a feel more akin to a early to mid period Merzbow album, bathed in reverb with occasional bits of voice coming through.It is harsh and a bit reminiscent of Junko's vocals with Hijokaidan, but not quite as extreme.It is abrasive and aggressive, but diverse enough to stay engaging as more than just a noise piece.
Other moments on the album are far less divisive. The open and spacious "Last Day" has Sachiko's voice largely unprocessed and delicate, but with its distant feel it comes across as both gentle and slightly disconcerting."Return" is even more light and airy, with her voice creating a beautiful, yet haunting ending to an album that covers a lot of moods and feelings throughout.
I have followed Sachiko's most recent albums in the past few years, and while they have all been exceptionally well done, I must say that Loka feels the most fully realized, and is the most diverse of them.It covers both the beautiful and ugly sounds in her repertoire, and whether hushed or harsh it is fascinating.
On the second solo release from Shane Broderick (of the delightfully juvenile and inappropriate Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck), there is a sense of developing composition and maturity to be had, mixing his harsh noise and power electronic tendencies with more of a dark ambient sensibility. Paired with the Dutch project on the other side of the 10" going for a death industrial/Cold Meat Industries throwback sound, there is a great old school noise sensibility to be had on here.
The two songs from Broderick expand on the analog heavy sound he started with on the self-titled 3" CD from 2009."Abandonment" is all dour synths and churning bass for its early minutes, but as it goes on harsher, heavy electronics come in to balance the funeral dirge with a power electronics squall."Rapes of Convenience" again emphasizes the low end of the spectrum, but with the synths meeting with controlled feedback passages and shrill, demonic voices that ends rather abruptly.
On the flip side, Maurice De Jong works heavily with slowed down, bass ridden machinery noise on "A Moral Guide to Self-Castration and Necrophilia."That paired with crashing and banging reverberated drones is in league with some of the better Brighter Death Now material.This is made all the more apparent when some harsh noise outbursts start popping out, and demonic, screeching voices cut through violently.
This is a bleak, depressing record, and that is exactly as it should be.From its overall sound and presentation, it reminded me of that mid to late 1990s CMI/Tesco scene that has been severely lacking in recent years.It is not a record that is going to make either artist a crossover media darling, but for the fans of the genre such as myself, it is a wonderfully unpleasant throwback to a time in difficult and extreme music that has seemingly passed the world by.
The first half of this LP is front loaded heavily with the two part "Dedispersion I" and "Dedispersion II," and then followed up with a series of short, less impressive experiments.The "Dedispersion" pieces owe a notable debt to the glitch scene of the late '90s but with a fresh, updated sound that sounds much more compelling and unique.Bleeping sounds and white noise skittering beats come together to bear more than a passing resemblance to a skipping CD, which are slowly expanded upon with melodic synth passages and more fleshed out beats.The second segment emphasizes Breuer’s drumming more, sneaking a natural, human sound into an inorganic one that slowly becomes more and more fragmented as it goes on.
On the flip side, both "Gridshifter 05" and "FS Revisited" stand out as exceptionally powerful compositions.The former’s opening reverberated noise and simple mechanic throb is rather rudimentary, but when Hess’ cymbal heavy live percussion begins to weave in and out of the composition, it builds into a grandiose, dramatic outburst that is catchy in more than just a clever sort of way.Slowly throughout the six minutes the patterns shift and change rather strongly."FS Revisited" takes a similar approach; a bass throb leads off and then is cut up by razor sharp live percussion.The layers build and build, with complex rhythms and rich synths coming to a heavy, harsh crescendo that is just perfectly paced and extremely compelling.
The shorter pieces that surround these two, however, come across as less realized and, while not bad in any way, just are not as memorable."Cumbre Vieja" is the only one that approaches a full length song, and the twinkling synths and clicking imperfections that come together as a wall of harsh noise work in an experimental sense, but with the two major pieces that precede it, it just pales in comparison.The short "Rotor" fares rather well, even though its stripped down brittle metallic beats lack the same punch, it does take on a nice Neu! sound by the end.
Low's newest record represents, as many past releases do for the band, an intentional and successful return to past ideas. As a listener more entrenched in their early material, this record was a welcome and familiar return to a form I recognized. Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker (along with Steve Garrington this time) have decided to craft The Invisible Way with a serious emphasis on empty space and atmosphere by way of Jeff Tweedy, handling production duties, and elevate the subtle country influences of much of their work to the foreground. This is a gorgeous, glacial record that tempts tearful choruses at each slow turn.
"Plastic Cup" is an excellent beginning to the album, but it is probably as fitting an opener as any other song on The Invisible Way. Low's music is all about unpacking emotions and exploring simple moments over simple structures, and their singular focus does not lend itself to a complete contour, as strange as that seems. The few exceptions lay in their transcendent moments: "So Blue" is a masterful, escalating elegy to the loss of youth and innocence, so abundant with energy it seems to escape its restricted instrumental palette, and the only fitting refrain to it is the slow country-tinged comedown of "Holy Ghost." As an album closer, "To Our Knees" does seem specifically designed to taper off with uncertainty and sadness, but so does a majority of the other material.
The musicglides between poignant sentiments indiscriminately. Parker and Sparhawk work best in slow bars, their breath held, taking the stripped down ethos of rock music and applying it to dreamy baroque pop. Tweedy's work on production duties does due credit to their songwriting, elevating that baroque aspect while also giving it an Americana tinge. Low is not cherry picking country tropes, though; Jeff's work goes to show a side of their music which was always present but never predominant until now, the ancient blues aesthetic that colors much of their vocal melodies without becoming too overplayed to feel kitsch.
Each song on The Invisible Way is like an exact idea captured in amber, so I do not really consider the context of where they are sequenced to be that important. I am led along by their intertwined melodies, and captured by the utterly palpable anguish and pain in many of them, each slow verse another chance for their affecting lyricism to shine through. On such simple arrangements, they sell desolation more effectively than ever, in whatever form it fits. It so happens that much of it relies on the piano, the stand out element of the record, which carries much of the album's strongest material. I find myself appreciating the softer chords between choruses, little human moments of empathy before the storm. There are weaker songs, sure—both Sparhawk-led songs "Clarence White" and "Mother" on this record seem a little too faltering and histrionic—but they never damage the larger image or the flow of the record. Mimi's contributions, meanwhile, are probably the best in a while from her, holding most of the vocal duties and dominating the album's most powerful points.
Low plays on familiar sentiments and does it slowly, so that the times they resonate with the listeners, they make that resonance last longer and feel more impactful. For me, this is such contexual music; the time I hear it and the way I feel when I listen to it will forever affect my perception of it. In that way, the simplicity of the music leaves so much space for interpretation. From the cryptic sorrow of the lyrics to the actual instruments used to Tweedy's keen deconstruction of their sound, Low leaves the biggest spaces in their songs as places to store your own reservations and emotions, to impart your own feelings onto their canvas. This happens again and again, beautifully and delicately.
Kinski's first record in a few years sounds like a good band stuck between two polar opposite sides of their own creative influences. This time around, they lean heavy on grungy punk rock and fast tempos, leaving much of the slower bits to stagnate. The guitar work, whose slow burn melodies always seemed like a savvy subversion of their normally intended purpose, are played straight for most of the songs to compliment the lyrics. While this is definitely a new direction for the band, it is hard to say if it will be embraced by fans who preferred these elements more subtly.
"Long Term Exit Strategy" might be the most misleading song to begin the album; almost a sarcastic misdirection, it is a traditionally long form Kinski space rock composition that grinds slowly against its seven minute running time like a begrudged anthem. From there, however, the band falls into a short form, punky hard rock template that it rarely escapes from. Hot headed and hooky, the next few shorter songs—especially "Last Day On Earth" and "Riff Dad"—feel gleaned from the playbook of classic grunge, and even pop punk at times. "Throw It Up" has a chugging bluesy cadence to it that might have fared better at a slower tempo, but survives well enough as a melodic garage rock workout.
Similarly, "A Little Ticker Tape Never Hurt Anybody" serves as an instrumental bridge to the end of the album, combining no wave low-distortion guitar with propulsive drumming, but it can at times feel like a play-by-numbers rehash of alt rock's most famous staples. "Conflict Free Diamonds" is a late highlight for its beckoning verses, its stutter start-and-stop melody tailored to live performances with plenty of dancing, and Kinski's irreverent lyrical sparseness, starting the song in a storyteller's focus and proceeding to fall haphazardly into an explosive solo break. "We Think She's A Nurse" is another later moment that stands out among the rest, another instrumental song that pits the album's most prominent synthesizers against the rivets of cymbals, white noise, and processed guitar, turning it into a display of glittering ambience and obfuscation that belies the rest of the album's straightforward nature.
Kinski has a strange mixture to work with on this album, trying to redeem a homogenous sound by running their own innate style into it. It is a choice a lot of bands make when they are trying to preach the quality of their core songwriting, and they have grown up listening to enough success stories to know how to play it. Still, this album is not a totally convincing effort, often slipping into vagueness when the band runs out of ideas. It survives on its strong tracks alone, which are plenty of fun, even if they never quite sound like Kinski.
The 49 Americans were a collision of proficient, working musicians and enthusiastic amateurs, one of many projects in the often improvised history of the London Musicians Collective. The inspired, thoughtful, jaunty tunefulness of We Know Nonsense is partly inspired by Julie Andrews.
The 49 Americans had so many members that several of them never actually met the others. Such was the project’s commitment to democracy that at early concerts no one was allowed to play the same instrument from one song to the next. This meant songs took considerably less time to perform than instrument switching breaks between songs, with members consulting various charts and checklists.
The group formed at the behest of Andrew Brenner, aka "Giblet," who writes or co-writes most of the pieces on this beautiful reissue. As a teenager moving from the US to London in the late 1970s he discovered the DIY ethos where "three chords made a band, photocopying made a fanzine and putting a cassette tape onto a plastic disc made a record label." The first expression of Giblet’s creativity was to form the band Buddy Hernia and the Rickets, fusing teenage-rock parody with a gleeful celebration of inability. That sounds absolutely dreadful, but The 49 Americans were rather magnificent and would come come to make We Know Nonsense, which is included in Wire magazine’s "100 records that set the world on fire (while no one was listening)."
Giblet drew other members in as he pushed the ethos of collectivity, liberty, participation, and the notion that "Happy music doesn’t have to be dumb." The Rickets were invited to an evening watching tapes of Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music after which they created the track "Julie Andrews" for The 49 Americans’ 14 track debut single (the longest single possible - a triumph of quantity). Two unsuccessful London buskers were recruited and, at a seaside festival in Brighton, Giblet made the acquaintance of Lol Coxhill (soprano & vocals), Steve Beresford (euphonium), Peter Cusack (guitar), Paul Burwell (drums), Terry Day (cello) and Max Eastley and David Toop (african one-string fiddle) aka The Promenaders- all of whom would play in The 49 Americans, along with Viv Goldman and Viv Albertine of The Slits and many others. The names are unimportant, though, as this was to be as ego-free as possible with all involved engaged in "an experiment in the pursuit of happiness."
The discovery of the London Musicians Collective was a further catalyst, since membership meant use of a free performance space, a huge old railway building in Camden. Variant magazine has a history of the LMC told in the words of those who were in it, such people as Burwell, Ed Baxter, one of The Frank Chickens, David Toop, and far too many others to mention. What emerges is the spirit of the place with factions, hopeless membership meetings, exuberant workshops designed to "de-emphasize the soloist," or achieve collective music by "atomising" sound before reforming it into layers: all of this somehow being the grit from which pearls could sometimes be made. There were Aeolian harps tied onto the roof, revolving glass coffee tables played with chunks of polystyrene, the floor flooded to create the Mississippi river, evenings devoted to Inuit culture and so on.
Attending the LMC, as non-or relatively inept musicians meant some conflict with the original free-jazz guys who had first used the place, but also a welcome and patient collaboration between those highly proficient and adventurous musicians who saw value in sharing energy and ideas with newcomers. It also meant having to nip next door to a film collective’s place to use the bathroom - since toilets were not included in the LMC space.
From the outside, if anyone else was aware of its existence, presumably the political Left might have mistakenly thought this communal space would encourage staunch protest and deep sincerity, while the Right could have incorrectly assumed that it was a hotbed of political correctness where alternate versions of nursery rhymes deemed offensive were being incubated, along with the the occasional paeon to the entire rainbow of sexualty. Against this backdrop, and that of the early years of Thatcherism, it is deeply satisfying to imagine The 49 Americans, primed by an evening watching the full-on antics of the Von Trapp Family or Dick van Dyke, launching into their tunes, for no better reason than their own enjoyment and just for the very doing of it.
This CD version of We Know Nonsense comes with 23 bonus tracks from their debut LP and EP across a range of styles: bossa nova, African tin-whistle, doo wop, scratchy punk-funk, and more. The songs mainly concentrate on clear and thoughtful vocals, however, which allows them to almost float above influence and genre. The singing is flat at times but always has a quizzical charm. The title track, along with "Liberty," "It's Time," and the wonderful "I Be Later," are exuberant, crafty, humble and joyous recordings. A greater proportion of the more proficient musicians were used for We Know Nonsense, as the group decided they wanted it to be their best possible effort. This is cheerful yet erudite music, a free and easy mix of philosophy and polite exclamation with an overriding sense of democratic participation and a strong insistence upon its inherent lack of importance.
The history and legacy of the London Musicians Collective is also the topic of Get a Haircut And Disappear, a radio documentary by Nick Hamilton with a broad range of music and interviews with Clive Bell, David Toop, Paul Burwell, Ed Baxter and others. It was originally broadcast on Resonance.FM, a station which to a great extent revels in the adventurous spirit and welcoming ethos of the Colllective.
On this terse (ten minutes exactly) little 7" single, Canada's master of harsh noise walls indulges in his sonic obsessions once again. Sam McKinlay proves that for a style associated with monochromatic approaches, there is much more to be explored, even if edges just so slightly into uncomfortable.
Sourced from the sounds of wood, knives, and nylon and paired with the cover art, Sam McKinlay is definitely going for the giallo horror theme that defines his Vice Wears Black Hose collaboration with Richard Ramirez."Dark Eyebrow Angled Toward the Nylon" is classic Rita: sharp, serrated waves of sound that is overdriven into fatiguing, clipping levels.It stays pretty much the same throughout its five minutes:at low volumes it makes for a nice study in abrasive textures.Cranked up, it is as jarring and punishing as any good harsh noise should be.
The other side of the vinyl, "Dark Eyebrow Angled Toward the Thigh," is actually a bit more spacious, if still overwhelmingly oppressive as it goes on.The noise is pushed even more into the jagged, sawtooth realms to almost sound more like hardware glitches and malfunctions rather than harsh noise.Film dialog is introduced, sometimes intelligible and other times not, but eventually becomes overwhelmed by the noise that, again, is unpleasant in the best possible way until it finally devolves into a traditional harsh noise wave of white noise and reverberated static.
Rather than just sounding like a broken AM radio (like much of this subgenre does), McKinlay layers his sound distinctly, often overdriven to the point of only the smallest fragments of noise become audible. This is a great single that does exactly what it should without any pretense.I would have not been able to handle much more than a 7" single, however, and I mean that as a compliment!
As an artist, Kirkegaard has made it his focus to create art that is as disconnected from emotion or traditional musicality as possible. Which makes the premise for this album all the more compelling: two of his previous works are rearranged and presented using classical instrumentation by the Scenatet ensemble. The resulting work is much more akin to his initial compositions than a traditional classical recording.
"Labyrinthitis II," originally released as a stand-alone piece in 2008, is based on the notion that when perceiving sound, the human ear creates a unique internal frequency, which formed the basis of the original album.Unsurprisingly, this does not carry over explicitly when recreated via strings and horns.What does shine through, however, is a sense of intermingling sound waves resonating amongst one another.Without paying explicit attention, it is almost hard to believe that such traditional instrumentation could be generating these sounds.
The other piece on the album, "Church II," is based upon a piece from his 4 Rooms album in 2006.Originally a recording of silence within a Chernobyl church and then played back and rerecorded in the same space, here it conjures the same mood.Echoing, distant roars of percussion fill hollow spaces, creating an effective sense of scope from an architectural standpoint, and of cold desolation.
The resonating sounds grow and become heaver, oppressive and uncomfortable.A sense of abstract and disconnected drone is prominent. It sounds like a natural phenomenon, generated from anything but organic instruments.When the more overt strings finally come in, they simply conjure up a sense of dread and depression, a perfect sonic accompaniment to the barren, lifeless location in which the first recording was collected.
Both Kirkegaard and Scenatet deserve high praise for Conversion, for the former his unique sense of concept and composition, and the latter for translating it from field recordings and electronic works into distinct compositions that redefine the type of sound classical instrumentation can produce.Even detached from the original material it was based on, Conversion stands alone as a beautiful piece of sound art.
Acting as its title would indicate as a bridge between their debut work, Shizuku, and an upcoming second effort, Interstices is a mix of improvisations, sketches, and experimentation that was all captured live. It does not come across as a taut, conceptual album focused on composition, nor is it consistently random or unfocused. Instead it is a slow drift through experimentation and improvisation that at times feels a bit random, but comes together quite well.
One of the underlying concepts for Illuha's work is the use and misuse of various tools, musical and otherwise, into a free improvisation type context.Unlike many who work with these methods, everything is kept at a close, hushed level and never becomes boisterous or aggressive.These pieces have a distinctly intimate sensibility—as I listen it sounds as if I was in the same room as it was being performed.
"Interstices I (Seiya)" comes across as the most basic of the three long performances that make up the album.Initially it is rather bleak, dark, and sparse.Bits of feedback and occasional piano or twinkling sounds break up the tension, and the oddly spoken word segment seems out of place.However, the lighter, uplifting transition toward the middle and the guitar-centric closing helps keep some sense of composure.
Somewhere in the middle is the simultaneously chaotic and relaxed "Interstices II".While everything is kept at that quiet, intimate volume, a world of clinking sounds, strings, and droning electronics are scattered about in free form improvisation.Amidst the acoustic guitar plucks and the wet, synthetic drips, there is a relaxed, calm sense maintained, like a slow drift down a lazy river on a hot summer’s day.
The longer closer "Interstices III" feels, of the three, the most focused and composed piece.Starting from a basic palette of drawn out elongated noises, a sense of development emerges rather quickly in the performance. A lot of variation and structuring continues without losing a sense of Illuha improvisation. As a result, it becomes a tighter, more focused work that would not be out of place in an album context.
As an intermediary work (such as it is intended), Interstices accomplishes its job admirably, especially considering this is live material.While at times it does seem to lack the focus and structure I would expect to hear on a fully realized album from the duo, it never feels overwrought or unnecessary.While disjointed and tentative at times, this is not something that would only appeal to the most ardent of fans and thus acts as a great teaser for their 2014 release.