Plenty of new music to be had this week from Laetitia Sadier and Storefront Church, Six Organs of Admittance, Able Noise, Yui Onodera, SML, Clinic Stars, Austyn Wohlers, Build Buildings, Zelienople, and Lea Thomas, plus some older tunes by Farah, Guy Blakeslee, Jessica Bailiff, and Richard H. Kirk.
Lake in Girdwood, Alaska by Johnny.
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To be quite honest, despite being a big Sleep fan, I had never heard of Asbestosdeath until this reissue became available. Asbestosdeath is an early incarnation of the sonic titans and this reissue collects their two extremely rare 7" singles onto one CD. The songs will be familiar to those who own Sleep's Volume One as the songs here ended up being recycled when Al Cisneros, Chris Haikus and Matt Pike changed the name of the band and got Justin Marler on board. To hear these early versions of the songs gives me the same feeling as hearing that Velvet Underground acetate for the first time.
While Sleep's masterpiece Dopesmoker deservedly gets the most attention out of their back catalogue, I get the feeling that many people ignore their earlier albums undeservedly. Both Holy Mountain and Volume One are classics of stoner metal, out-Sabbathing Sabbath like no other band (as a friend of mine pointed out, you can sing the lyrics to Sabbath's "Into the Void" over pretty much all of Sleep's early works). So, on this immense, fuzzed out and down- tuned note, I am delighted to see these Asbestosdeath singles getting reissued.
The versions here are not as huge or as heavy as the ones that appear on Volume One but they are a great insight into the evolution of Sleep as a band. These recordings sound a little rougher and although they are nicely remastered it sounds like they were mastered from the 7" singles themselves and not the original master tapes. Cisneros' vocals lack the power that he later developed; sometimes he comes off a tad weedy after becoming accustomed to his throaty delivery in Sleep. The other striking difference between Dejection/Unclean and the music that followed is how much less bass there is in the sound here. As a band is renowned for their low frequency presence there is far less window-shaking action here than I would hope for.
Nonetheless, these observations are only nitpicking as the four songs here are a hitherto unheard glimpse into the dawn of Sleep. Asbestosdeath's take on the songs reveal that their form was fully realized a year or two prior to Volume One and in those years the band refined and beefed up the sound into the final masterpieces that they became. "Scourge" is essentially the same but lacking the big bottom that takes the song to a higher level. "Anguish" and "The Suffering" both have a little more low end, sounding more intimidating but let down by Cisneros' vocals. That being said, even in their early days, this band stand on a pedestal set at a great height above most of their contemporaries and followers.
Chances are that anyone who already owns and loves Volume One will have a good idea about what Dejection/Unclean sounds like but hopefully those who are just discovering Sleep via Om and High on Fire will hear this and check out Sleep's full (but hardly extensive) back catalogue and not just Dopesmoker. For casual fans of the band (i.e. those who have no time for the first two albums) this is a superfluous release but for those, like me, who cannot get enough of this incredible band this is essential.
Despite some of the high energy alto sax improvisation here, this release by Japanese multi-instrumentalist Mochizuki Harutaka feels like the work of a sensitive soul. The gentle cover shot of Harutaka, with what looks suspiciously like a Tequila sunrise in the foreground, and some touching liner notes by post-folker Dredd Foole give the physical product an intimate, homespun feel.
The plaintive bare-bones jazz melancholy of the opening piano/voice piece "Song" reveals Harutaka's unexpectedly sensitive vocal, his voice recorded as if heard through electric cotton wool. This almost traditional use of western balladry is unexpectedly repeated on the closing piece (also titled "Song"); to say these pieces are gorgeously fragile would be to utterly undersell their bookending effect. There's a pretty strong loner vibe coming off this record, the voice of someone refusing conventions and effortlessly matching their musical vision with something magical. Muse Ni sees Harutaka appear like a positive flipside to the dark desolation of a player like Jandek, carrying hope instead of despondency. These songs may be the album's double hearted core, despite their positions, but it's the three alto sax pieces that show the experimental reach of Harutaka.
"Alto Sax Two" may lack the muscle of other rowdier sax damaging players, but he seems more concerned with mapping out the instruments edges rather than following any internal routes. Running on wide-eyed virgin energy he combs his way through a version of everything-Nmperign-never-thought-of in a single three-and-a-half-minute burst. The short sharp backwards blasts of "Alto Sax Three" sound like they're sucked from the marrow of music rather than blown through reeds and metal. It's the final part of sax work which seems the most conventional in terms of free jazz playing: a swooping collection of notes shorn loose of the instrument. It's like hearing one side of a conversation, Harutaka responding with melody and fire to a quartet that doesn't exist outside of his head. This is a record that makes you dream about his next release.
This debut full length stuffed with one drop rhythms and Rastafarian principles contains many of the ingredients for a great reggae album, from its backing band of seasoned session musicians to the talented up-and-coming vocalist at its center. Yet somehow, despite the considerable effort shown, Prince of Fyah congeals into an unremarkable dish that, while easy to swallow, never quite satisfies.
Initially, I was excited to receive this release from Ras Myrhdak, whose lyrically intriguing "Blazer" had been a clever hit in Jamaica last year. A protege of Capleton with a decade of singles and ties to such noteworthy figures as Cutty Ranks and Bobby Digital, Myrhdak seemed long overdue to drop an album's worth of material. Unfortunately, producer Brotherman, eschewing the few genre missteps of Turbulence's Do Good, plays it considerably safe, a frustrating flaw which plagued that singjay's lackluster record. Rootsy one drop reggae suits the Jah praising vocalist, who flexes his malleable vocal range regularly within a single track, but the tracks have a frustrating tendency to blur into one another.
One of the few mention-worthy cuts, "Mankind," takes a page straight out of Damien Marley's playbook, vocally resembling the internationally known star's flow as well as his socially conscious lyrics. The riddim hits harder than the bulk of the album, and Myrhdak would do well to continue to explore that rougher side of the sound on future recordings. On the other side of the spectrum, "Jahneasha," comes closest to what could be a hit, though Myrhdak's romantic yet occasionally nasal delivery is a slightly overdone. Still, the singer's minor limitations don't fully account for why the end result just doesn't make for much than a passable reggae album, which the market has more than enough of.
Although this is only the second Minor 7 Flat 5 album I've heard, I cannot help but think that the problem with this and the aforementioned Turbulence release is the common thread that ties them. In proper reggae tradition, the label essentially serves as a showcase for Brotherman's productions, and in the same way that Lloyd "Bullwackie" Barnes or King Jammy define their imprints, quality control rests with the figurehead. Myrhdak has promise, as his hook-heavy choruses belie, but thanks to Brotherman, nothing here can match or surpass "Blazer."
So while my girlfriend is swamped in a bunch of paperwork I sneak up to my hideaway for a fix of sonic filth. I pull out the new 12" on Noisestar. This heavy duty slab of wax is limited to a measly 300 copies and was recorded live on August 29th 2006 at rehearsal in London. Everything about this record tells me that she's not gonna appreciate it, the title, the sleeve, So I put on my headphones in a considerate moment.
This is pure primordial dirge. A pulverising military, almost tribal drum rhythm is pounded out of lord knows how many drum kits. (I saw footage of them in Berlin beating on 9 of them). Over the drums is a cochlea-annihilating distorted monster of a riff. This is heavier than a blue whale with a stomach full of lead. Imagine mid-period Melvins recorded in a cave.
The track skips and stutters at various points. This is either some crazy editing or couldn't give a shit warts and all attitude. It is raw, brutal and seriously nasty. The whole wall off sound is then put through a filter and then kicks back in. The occasional vocals are largely incoherrent and have a great 'fuck you' charm to them. Then the last couple of minutes have drums that are so distorted they sound like scud missiles going off in your face. The flip-side is more of the same relentless repetition and ferocious distortion, drawing on the same elements and ideas of the first track much in the same way as Om's mighty Variations On a Theme LP. It all ends in a lockgroove which may have possibly given me tinnitus.
This CD/DVD set captures an extremely special evening for Larsen, one that places them in a perfect visual and musical perspective revealing more an a little about this enigmatic quartet from Torino Italy. For one night only Larsen assembled their closest musical friends to play to a sold out crowd at the Teatro Colosseo in Torino Italy. The purpose of the performance was to pay tribute to the work of Czech avant garde designer, typographer, founder of Devestil and cultural radicalist Karel Teige and his Abeceda – a 1926 collaboration with poet Vitoslav Nezva which minimalised text down to its basic components establishing a poetic dialogue between text and images.
To "Abeceda" Larsen brings their minimalist beauty and melody with this live performance incorporating music, dance and projections. With Larsen are their close musical friends David Tibet (Current 93), Baby Dee (Current 93 member and acclaimed solo performer), Johann Johannsson (Touch/4AD) The music swells in gentle pulses of soflty stated melody. Emotion clings to each note while glistening shimmers of electonics dance quietly in the mix.
The DVD reminds us of what a rich visual experience Abeceda was and is. As The Wire so perfectly put it in a extensive write up of the evening, David Tibet's performance “Provides a vital link between the music and the visuals... At one point he connects beautifully connects perfectly with the dancer, breathing deeply into the microphone in time with her movements.” Visual projections, created by Bellissimo, portray a woman in a 20's style bathing suit, much like Teige's original work, portraying letters of the alphabet which slowly become obscure by Teige's brilliant typography.
Thanks to Larsen's definitive discipline and their kindred visual and musical collaborators. Abeceda is an event of great subtlety and complexity. It is truly a gift that this performance was so perfectly documented in both an audio and visual format. Where the work of Karel Teige was a tremendous gift for the eyes, Larsen & Friend's Abeceda is a gift for both the eyes and the ears.
Hats off to Bellissimo, the design team responsible for Larsen's distinctive packaging, for putting the finishing touches on a perfect evening and a perfect package.
“My dear friends Fabrizio and Larsen honoured me by asking me to interpret the alphabet for their project ABECEDA in the light of Nezval's verses for Karel Teige. Being neither an admirer of dada, surrealism or the avant-garde, I escaped from them all by taking a train from the seaside town of Hastings where I live, to London, after kissing my cats goodbye. I looked at the blurs of sheep, tree, hedge, sea, pond passing me like living clouds. I looked at each letter of the alphabet, and covered Nezval's text with my hand. I ordered the letter to tell me what it looked like. I disbelieved its answer. Letters always lie. So I peered at the shape of the letter and wrote down my immediate responses. They all make sense to me, but 1,000 people will see 1,000 different faces when they look at the same face. That is calling a vanished face back from behind the hill. “
Love Peace Apocalypse, David Tibet, Hastings 8.IX.1006
Been busy lately on working on the Mother’s Day comp, but we got it up for you for free in plenty of time at http://www.silbermedia.com/comps/mom The artists appearing are: Wrong Brothers, Remora, Glissade, Blessed Child Opera, Plumerai, Moral Crayfish, Lauri des Marais, Century of Aeroplanes, Electric Bird Noise, Miss Massive Snowflake, & Origami Galaktika.
hrt Brian John Mitchell
Hey starz,
Been busy lately on working on the Mother’s Day comp, but we got it up for you for free in plenty of time at http://www.silbermedia.com/comps/mom The artists appearing are: Wrong Brothers, Remora, Glissade, Blessed Child Opera, Plumerai, Moral Crayfish, Lauri des Marais, Century of Aeroplanes, Electric Bird Noise, Miss Massive Snowflake, & Origami Galaktika.
Members of Piano Magic, Klima, Trembling Blue Stars, and friends gaze fondly back to the Kraftwerk and Factory Records blueprint of detachment, economy, and alienation. These carefully-weighed compositions will strike a chord for anyone with a penchant for some of the most popular independent music of the early-80s, though such familiarity needn't be a prerequisite.
Cedric Pin and Glen Johnson (both of Piano Magic) accurately self-describe this music as being "calculated at home." They're joined by Dan Matz from Windsor for the Derby on vocals for "Bright Lights & Wandering" where the territory and dynamics of the entire album are established: a machine-like contemplation of the paradoxical human need for both acceptance and individuality. The piece is twice as long as it needs to be but the sound sparkles and the words are as bleak as if their square root were the line "Why is the bedroom so cold? You've turned away on your side." "Broken Robots" starts and ends with all the fizz and throb of something much more current, namely Mr.Quintron from his Bulb period. Cooing vocals are complemented by a spoken passage laying out the inability of graphs and charts to plot a course through love. Doubtless, someone is working on it.
"Substance Fear" crams more references into a few minutes than seems decent. It overcomes the obstacles of a beginning that is a bit too close to New Romantic pop, a wooden and grating line about "the restlessness of Kerouac", and obvious echoes of Pet Shop Boys, to pack a punch. At one point, clear echoes of "Blue Monday" can be heard, and a section all-too-briefly (and probably by accident) recalls Alex Harvey's "Faith Healer" before a rush of spoken narrative and swirling electronics eventually give way to a passage of bass playing that could be Hook, line and sinker.
"The Last Engineer" recalls the political economy of the UK during Factory's heyday, a period which saw the wholesale destruction of the mining and manufacturing industries by Margaret Thatcher's Conservative Party. As Prime Minister she was determined to remove rights and political influence from working-class people by destroying the power of their economic unions. Despite Mrs. Thatcher's mantra of the infallibility of market forces, she dramatically intervened in that market to close mines and import coal at a higher cost. She infamously declared that "there is no such thing as society" and a quarter of a century later her words ring out like a hideous self-fulfilling prophecy. As there has been no future recovery for the communities in question, she, not Manchester, has so much to answer for. Repetitive throbs contrast with the sounds of a telephone ringing and an underground train. Glen Johnson sings "I've felt alone since the '80s/I think it's misunderstood/ They may have shut down the coal mines/But the music was good".
The highlight of We Don't Just Disappear, "Crying's what you need," is a bona fide classic-by-numbers: dreamy bubbling beats a la OMD; a backwash of synth, Angele David-Guillou’s perfectly smooth utterances of gritty realism; a sliver of faux-Augustus Pablo harmonium; and the use of the word "whilst." It is a manifestation of the scientific theory that people keep unresolved memories longer than things which have been concluded. The notion that "there's nothing romantic in being alone" may be debatable, but the track exhibits a stark sense of emotional void, a caring sweetness, and just the right amount of humor and pathos:
"Somebody told me you never got over/The last girl that kissed you, though she was much older/ …She'd lived through The Smiths… and she knew how to kiss……She was in libraries and you were in college/ She stacked up the shelves whilst you racked up your knowledge/ She archived the Greats/ As you drank with your mates..."
This three way live collaboration (recorded in 2006 in Tokyo) by these titans of electronic abuse focuses on the analog elements of their respective careers. Even Masami Akita dusts off his EMS Synthi for an old school excursion.
In my youth I was a big follower of Masami Akita's work, buying any CD or LP that was reasonably priced and attainable. Hell, I remember drooling over the fabled Merzbox a few years before its release. However, dealing with any artist as dissonant and prolific as Merzbow, burnout is almost inevitable, and that's exactly what happened. I continued reading reviews and so forth, so I was well aware of Masami's shift from analog junk electronics to a Powerbook, and his rediscovery of percussion and drums as becoming part of his work. So upon receiving Electric Dress in the mail I was eager to hear what this new side of him would bring…a bit of disappointment hit me when I saw his contributions: EMS Synthi 'A', handmade instruments and effects. This disappointment quickly dissipated once I slid the disc in, however.
Electric Dress is a live collaboration between the aforementioned Akita, Carlos Giffoni (of the infamous No Fun Fest and Monotract, maning custom synths and analog filters) and the ubiquitous Jim O'Rourke on synths and microphones. Perhaps it's a mellowing with age, but even analog Merzbow seems more restrained and placid than his mid 1990s self. There's still a good deal of distorted bass rumble to be found—but it is mediated by analog oscillators tweaked to sound like chirping birds—and white noise bursts resembling torrents of rain and blowing wind. Throughout the 18+ minute single track the dynamics shift frequently, from full-on harsh noise to quiet, almost ambient passages. Having the three artists working at any given time makes for a deep mix, albeit not an overly harsh one. There are certainly the punishing and shrill moments, however.
The entire feel of this album is definitely analog, and it's a pretty interesting setting to hear these three musicians working without the aid of laptops and samples, and the piece remains an interesting, complex mix throughout that reveals new layers and elements on each listen. And though as I mentioned before Akita was going "old school" on this one, a bit of beats creep in early on in the form of analog synths, coming in like an 808 kick drum. Electric Dress makes for a good addition to a Merz collection, and even a good choice for a neophyte or Giffoni and O'Rourke fans who may not prefer the harsh stuff.
A short little burst of spastic drum machines, pop vocal loops and goofy samples are just primed to bring out the Great Cornholio in all of us. And how can you NOT like an album with chicken and sheep sounds?
This is a short, succinct CDR of 5 listed tracks (and a hidden bonus track that, at 12 minutes, comprises about half of the disc's length). The five listed tracks cop the Boredoms' early ADD feel: all spastic sub machinegun drum machine outbursts, random samples and squealing feedback noises. "Bored" and "Friends" have the added charm of a toy store Casio synth plonking along, sometimes even on the demo song. Loops of sampled J-pop vocals are noticeable as well, and the overall feel could induce epileptic fits just as easily as those early Pokemon episodes. The unlisted bonus track is a different beast entirely, bass heavy electronic noise, marinated for a few weeks in reverb and then dragged behind a car for a few days. It's rumbly, it's lo fi, and it's great—the perfect a soundtrack for a mega caffeine drink fueled weekend of old Nintendo games.
An ATP-sponsored reunion of the dormant Aussie post-punk band is a revelation, and this live album shows just how many of the bands you know nicked from the Scientists' legacy. While packaged like a best of compilation, Sedition is actually the document of a May 2006 performance at the All Tomorrow’s Parties festival. It covers their own "best of" material from their nine year career and it can easily function as such because the band still plays as tightly as one who never took any sort of break.
Before I popped this disc in I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew the Scientists were a post-punk era band from Australia, and that was the extent of it. Inside, this release features liner notes from Thurston Moore, Jon Spencer, and Warren Ellis, among others. Listening to Sedition it’s not hard to hear the influence the Scientists’ career had on the likes of Sonic Youth, Pussy Galore/Blues Explosion, and the Bad Seeds.
Not really punk per se, the Scientists were more apt to mesh the dissonant guitar and the middle class ennui of jobs and mundane life ("Set It On Fire," "Burnout") with more traditional blues structures and rhythms. Opener "Swampland" is perhaps the most conventional of all, reminiscent of many (good) post-punk bands: Joy Division meets a little baby bit of surf guitar. Things aren't all conventional, because I’ll be damned if "Leadfoot" and "Revhead" especially aren’t nods to Suicide, with their mechanical bass/drum rhythm sections, rambling stream of consciousness vocals, and feedback laden guitar noise. Things aren't all abrasive either, as "When Fate Deals Its Mortal Blow" and "Blood Red River" conjure up sleazy southern blues elements that were surely copped by Messrs. Cave and Spencer.
Sedition comes in a deluxe moleskin book style cover: respectful packaging which is even suggestive of a career retrospective yet it's hard to believe that recordings contained are from one show. It doesn't even feel like a “live” album, as it acts like a great introduction and overview to The Scientists which makes for a coherent, cohesive listen.
For those in need of a disc to spin this coming Halloween to scare the children, or simply can't get enough of clanging percussion and synth noise, this may fit the bill. For the rest of us…not so much.
Division One isn't quite sure what it wants to be. Throughout the 9 untitled tracks, Sistrenatus bounces from subgenre to subgenre and never quite falls into one place. The first couple would fit right in as the ambient sound on the latest installment of Saw or Hostel—all heavily reverbed metallic creaks and groans, secure metal doors slamming shut from afar, distant voices in the darkness, and some occasional muffled breathing sounds cutting through—but by the end we're inundated with newsreel and dialog samples, militaristic snare loops and robotic noise tones, which may or may not cause any listener to go on a wild goose chase for someone named Sarah Connor.
The middle elements are a bit less cliché, leaning heavily on analog noise textures, distorted feedback and the occasional shouty indecipherable vocal lines. Add in the occasional bass synth sequence and crashing metal percussion and here's something the Tesco crowd falls head over heels for.
The greatest limitation of this work is that it doesn't do anything different for the overall genre that hasn't already been done. There's nothing inherently wrong with it, it is a very competent work. The problem is that fans of this style of music probably already have a few discs that are along the same lines as Division One. Considering this is a debut album, there’s always time for growth and maturation, so hopefully the next Sistrenatus will stand more on its own, rather than just lurking in the shadows with other pale faces and well worn reverb units.