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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Note: My review could have read entirely like this: "What the Fuck isthis? It's fucking Fuck that's what the fuck it is, you fuck. Oh, Fuck,this is good. It's fucking so good Fuck is 'Fuck-ing' again." Somepeople think that sort of thing is clever. Luckily, I don't. Okay, nowto the real review. It's interesting listening to any band with a namedesigned to incense. Crunt, for instance. 1,000 Homo DJs, for another.However, what seems to be the most interesting part is that none ofthese bands set out to incense people with their music. It must be alet-down, in fact, when some people set out to play a naive practicaljoke on their friend by buying them the record with the "F-word" on thecover, actually listen to the record and realize two things: 1) Themusic doesn't really match the name of the band; 2) The music isn'thalf bad. And that's exactly what I'd say about this current effort."Cupid's Cactus" finds the band with their most laid-back release todate, and that's saying a lot. Fuck has always been this way: one shortstep away from a country western band with folk tendencies, determinedto rock you, just with subtlety. It's one of those records you put onat a party when everyone is having deep intellectual conversationsanyway. It's perfect for your cocktail party. Songs labor on, buildingsweetly and deliberately, piling on the histrionics until they stop,then start again as before. It's a great sound. Sometimes it's enoughto make you want it to just explode. It never does, thankfully. It'snot the best thing ever. It's not going to change your life.Occasionally it's good to hear this kind of record. Something originalenough to be daring, but not complicated enough to make a fuss about.It's just good, laid-back, and easy to listen to. You'll find yourselftapping your toe repeatedly. Just subtlely.
Fans of To Rococo Rot's last full-length release beware, click/glitch fans beware, both worlds share the car ride here on a disc which (consistent with other TRR releases) has taken a few listens to be completely appreciated. I must start by admitting a scary realization: I sometimes get the feeling that there's too many clicks in my music collection right now. This whole click/glitch trend is rightfully doomed if it continues to go nowhere. To Rococo Rot have probably realized something similar and decided to actually go somewhere.
"Hungry Ghost" sounds like a sonic painting of a car ride with NYC-based DJ I-Sound, stopping along the way to pick up and drop off passenger Alexander Balanescu (violinist of the Balanescu Quartet). It's a 45-minute score to an overnight trip — the "Trance of Travel" if you will — claiming "How We Never Went to Bed," and went "From Dream to Daylight" "Along the Route." Then of course there's the "Mazda in the Mist" "She Tended to Forget." Beyond that concept, TRR made a prime example of how to couple the tools of today's technology with real musicians to push the musical evolution forward. While I warmly welcome this to the click genre, I accepted it with loads of hesitation to the TRR sound. The catchy tunes and driving melodies which littered their last release are less prominent throughout the 45 minutes here. In their place are more sound effects, whirling, buzzing and yes, clicks. The band has not completely given in, however, and are indeed still actually playing their instruments. I was so in love with 1999's release 'The Amateur View,' that I sincerely hoped they could build on that foundation, yet I'm thrilled somebody is making an effort to drive the clicks off of laptop-exclusive music. This album succeeds in the sense that it would make a perfect disc for driving with a bunch of friends, providing a gentle ambience perfect for talking over with the occasional noticing of quiet high-pitched clicking things.
It's pretty much a common rule that the first track on the CD is themost important. It's the first paragraph in a manifesto, the first linein a love letter, or the first scene in a really good play. It sets thestage for the whole release. If the first track is not to your liking,chances are you won't like much or all of the CD. Mellow start off"Another Mellow Spring" with "Shinda Shima," a track that changesapproaches twice before actually arriving at the meat of the song. Andwhat fine tasting meat it is. References to Pink Floyd are consistentlyversed in press about Mellow — their bio even says they're "checkingBeck's head through Pink Floyd's stethoscope" — and not withoutjustification. "Shinda Shima" settles into a very Floyd-esque vibe. Andthat's when the vocoder comes in. Suddenly the soundscape has changed.Seems that's the order of the day for Mellow, as the second track,"Paris Sous La Neige," sounds vaguely Brit-pop. And then things shiftagain. This is one of the most viscerally satisfying releases I'veheard this year, for that very fact. Styles shift, weird sounds emerge,and the whole time the trio of Stephane Luginbuhl, Pierre Begon-Loursand Patrick Woodcock sound like they're having the time of their lives.They should be: it's exciting stuff. The only complaint I have is theinclusion of several versions of "Mellow," their debut single,including a Fila Brazilia mix. It almost always signifies a lack ofmaterial to justify a full CD instead of an EP. Mellow show promise,though, and I definitely look forward to hearing where they go fromhere.
Ovalcommers starts and ends with high marks, with theanti-compositional composer incorporating new sounds into the audiosoup. The pulse is strong and the noise is multi-dimensional, dynamic,mobile and emotive. This eventually fades however, into the proverbialarray of untitled tracks packed with multi-tonal scratchy hums. By themiddle of the disc, the music has become ambience, eyelids sink, andother activites win attention until it nearly ends. But before it quiteends, Popp has sadly chosen to do one of the most irritating trends inthe past ten years: he leaves 25 minutes of silence on track 11 beforea new unexpected (de)composition jumps in. The music that arrives afterthis silence is phenomenal. The first song is an excellent match ofbombastic low end, drifting harmnoics and captivating high pitches, thesecond pursues the more typical Oval sound with scratching rhythmicsounds, yet adds more fluid melodies and song structure. This portionof the disc is so much more exciting and unpredictable than the rest ofOvalcommers that I wonder what's holding him back fom making aphenomenal album. I honestly can say I like his stuff, but does hereally want to keep releasing the same album over and over again? Is heafraid to explore new grounds as Oval? To me, the process is gettingrather tired and the journalists who herald this stuff over and overagain are merely chasing their tales. You've presented the process,perfected the process, now do something with it.
When was the last time you got a CD and went screaming to your friends,calling them and playing stuff through the phone receiver, emailing allyour pals on [insert band name here] emailing list saying "OH MY GODYOU HAVE TO FUCKING HEAR THIS!!!!" Was it with 'Confield'? No. Was itwith 'Kid A'? No! Maybe the last time was a few months ago when you"discovered" another Icelandic group (who ironically was raved abouthere on THE BRAIN months before The Wire, Rolling Stone or Spin; monthsbefore the Fat Cat UK release and over a year before the MCA US releasebut you didn't pay attention or listen to the sound samples then). TheIcelandic Múm have just released an almost completely instrumentalalbum — whose cuts always trigger numerous phone calls whenever playedon my piddly-shit radio show here in Boston. The question is always,"who the hell is this amazing music from??!!" Why do I find these guysso special? It's not what they do, it's how they do it. The grouphasn't broken any grounds with breakbeats, electronica, clicking orlaptop fuckery. They have found a way to make it simply fuckingbrilliant and I can't stop talking about this disc. While I hate makingcomparisons to other groups, try to picture if Autechre could write amelody. Imagine if Heaven existed and angels were experimentding withelectornic music. Imagine lying in the soft grass on a summery morning,fresh with glistening dew drops sparkling, and the tunes of thousandsof hand-wound music boxes playing in harmony. This is only thebeginning. Beefy breaks and low humming basslines are added but neveroverbearing or upsetting the gentle balance. Sure I can buy a thesaurusand have it sitting next to the computer for whenever I write reviewsand come up with other words for stunning, gorgeous, magnificent,clever, thoughful, ingenious, delicate, beautiful or compelling but I'drather you sit back and listen to the samples and let the sound speakfor itself.
As a taster cum sampler for the current Touch UK tour featuring thesethree audio explorers in cahoots with three different visual artists,this works up an appetite. It's just a shame it's missing Manchester bysuch a distance as the Fennesz track here is particularlymouthwatering. The Viennese maestro has surpassed himself again. Wherehis previous excursions into sampled guitar noise sculpting have maybehad precursors in the shape of Bruce Gilbert's seismic groundshifter'Ab Ovo', the overloaded sensory bombardment of prime My BloodyValentine and the digital lock skips of Oval, Christian Fennesz iscertainly carving out a distinctive niche. This track his perhaps hismost evocative evolution to date and is subtley emotive in a candlelitmemory haze reminiscent atmospherically of Labradford's 'Mi MediaNaranja' peak, but as if the whole album had sped by in a heat hazedfive minute blur. Hazard specialises in bleak ambient drones with snowyclose miked rumbles suggestive of vast deserted frozen expanses.Biosphere seems quite ordinary and inorganic in comparsion, presentingtwo remixes of precise clinical beat politeness underpinning sampledspeech. The cover is another nice bit of Touch co-conspiritor JonWozencroft's conceptual photography. Three images of trees at differentangles and diurnal illumination make apt visual accompaniments for thethree sonic experimenters.
Like-minded minimalists Ryoji Ikeda and Carsten Nicolai first performedtogether in 1999 as part of the Raster Noton 'New Forms' series. In theyears since data was exchanged back and forth between the artists,resident to Japan and Germany respectively, to create the Cycloproject. The purpose of their work is the same as much of modernminimalist composing: seeking out and embracing the (oftenmathematical) errors. Ten untitled tracks ranging 1 to 8 minutes makeup the 41+ minute, 'Vario Pac' encased disc. As would be expected, allthe usual sort of clinically clean and precise digital sounds from eachof the artists repertoires are present: high pitch signals, staticnoise, clipped tones, sine waves, sub bass pulses, snaps, crackles andpops all dance about the stereo field. The most notable sound lackingis no sound at all, i.e. silence. These are songs, very active andoften rhythmic and climactic, leaning more toward Nicolai's work asNoto than Ikeda's pure frequency drones. And as with Noto CDs, thevariation across the duration of the disc is noted and muchappreciated. Minimal excess for minimal success
Norwegians Eirik Glambek Boe and Erlend Oye have made a remarkabledebut with this 45-minute modern acoustic gem of an album. Some of theinfluences are apparent in the vocals — from Nick Drake to Pink Floyd'smore quiet moments. They manage to capture an air of romanticism inbeautiful tones that can either uplift you or bring tears to your eyes.The disc as a whole is quite mellow — a perfect lazy summer album.Their lyrics (such as "...there are many places that I would like to gowith you / but I can't find the key to open my door...") are excellentto the point where even Mark Kozelek couldn't have said them better.Their chord progressions range from sounding somewhat Tortoise-esque todefinitely Belle-and-Sebastian-like, though there is a level of uniquestyle that blends them and produces peaceful daydreamy feels. Lately,too, they have been known to hang with the Badly Drawn Boys, and evengot their Ken Nelson to produce "Quiet is the New Loud." This album isthe perfect example that music does not have to be ground-breaking tobe simply beautiful.
Over the last few years we have listened to Matt Elliott develop hissound under the Third Eye Foundation guise. One of Bristol UK'sfavorite sons has come a long way from the early days as a supportingcast member of Amp and Flying Saucer Attack. As Third Eye Foundation,he has progressed from the early days of organic sounds cleverlycoupled with electronic breaks to being one of the indie electronicscene's premiere technicians, composers and constructivists. With thisrelease, Elliott has made hints that it will be his own rather quietcurtain call, as he either ends this mission only to start new musicalventures, or turns to devote his full time to fatherhood. Theeight-track 18-minute slab is a collection of a couple collaborativeefforts as well as remixes of music from Blonde Redhead, The RemoteViewer, Urchin and Tarwater. Surprisingly enough for a collection ofthis nature, this disc flows with a keen sense of continuity —consistent with itself, like many albums of original material. From thefirst track, a piece noted as a 3EF remix of Yann Tiersden,breathtaking is the only word I can use to express my personalfeelings. The man who was once described to me as combining drum andbass elements with distorted guitars delivers something with neitherdrums nor bass, filling the room with accordion, swirling piano andsoft vocal samples used in the last album on the track "List". Movingonwards, the rest of the disc screams more of more recent Third EyeFoundation than any of the other names credited to each track,incorporating a fine blend of organic samples, strong foundation andhypnotic beats, admittedly constructed from others' songs. Intoxicatingare other offerings like the Blonde Redhead mix and collaboration withChris Morris. The music community doesn't know what it's missing fromElliott if he indeed chooses to retire at this point. I'm saddened tohear this news given his incredible progression from his beginnings.With any luck it's simply a rumor and he'll be able to find timebetween baby feedings to tinker with more captivatng ideas.
From the quiet opening "Damned for a bribe!" you know there's something fun coming up in this club remix of the Chicks hit. And when those beats do kick in, you know that this song is meant to be heard full-blast amongst flashy lights and jumpy speed-induced clubbers.
It makes you want to shake it, from the awesome throb to the loveable lyrics and cute piano ascending and descending throughout the piece. This 12" is limited to 2000, and is actually a reprise of an old 500-lmtd edition 7" from the COS label. The original is still here, but for the collectors or just dance-lovers, the B-side, "Angel in Black," is worth the price for all 4 minutes, 44 seconds. Remixed by Mause from Germany at Bill Preston Studios, this K-punk label single in conjunction with "the Re-releases of the Un-releases" is where it's at for fun and wacky new electronic tunes.
There was a time in the late 1980s/early 1990s that American Music Club would release albums which would cut through the trendy indie rock scene like a rusty knife. The group meshed an influence of introspective artistic post-punk with American twang long before Bedhead and Low were recording Joy Division covers, or Ida and Red House Painters were releasing albums.
With each release AMC would take a step further, incorporating more clever songwriting techniques, innovative sounds and lyrical proficiency. Unfortunately the music walked a fine line — too gritty for adult contemporary radio and not cute enough for modern commercial alternative rock. They were essentially a thorn in Warner Bros. side, a major label band without mainstream appeal, despite being hits with critics and music fans worldwide. Following the 1994 split, front man Eitzel continued with varying lineups which included heavy hitters like Peter Buck, Kid Congo Powers and members of Sonic Youth, Yo La Tengo and even Pearl Jam. Only now, on his fourth solo full-length album has Eitzel basically shut himself off from the big names, subsequently emerging with his strongest solo release to date. Three years have passed since the last record, in the meantime the invisible man bought himself a Macintosh G4 he affectionately calls "The Dumb Ass" and has written and recorded allegedly over 40 songs. The top 13 picks have materialized on this disc, with styles that incorporate a variety organic sounds, tied together with electronic computer-generated sounds and production. It's a completely new direction for him while the base of each song is undoubtedly pure Eitzel genius. The stories are all true, claims Eitzel, whose lyrics rarely need to match a rhythmic or rhyming scheme, comparing life experiences to fables, or holding no emotions back whether it's love or loss. Additional musicians do appear in various spots, including former AMC bandmate Vudi on guitar as well as horn, drum, and organ contributors. Look for him on tour shortly with a group who has been trained well to execute these ideas in a live environment with a certain grace only Eitzel can lead.