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The cover of this album reminds me of Poe's story "Metzengerstein," in which a horse appears as an incarnation of the title character's dead rival to settle the score after he's murdered. When Metzengerstein's house catches on fire, the horse is seen running through the blaze with Metzengerstein himself on its back, presumably on their way to hell. Although I can't say that The Besnard Lakes are taking me all the way to hell, there is still enough emotional weight in these songs to make it a vivid and memorable journey.
Original members Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas add a few new faces for this, their second album, and get additional help from members of The Dears, Stars, and Godspeed. Owning their own studio, they’ve produced recordings for Wolf Parade, Islands, and Stars, among others, but nowhere is their recording expertise more evident than on this lush, gorgeous album.
The opening "Disaster," with its plaintive falsetto and melancholic strings, sets the mood for an album of bittersweet recriminations and triumphs. The even more upbeat "Devastation" propels itself forward with this juxtaposition of joy and sadness, lending it a satisfying complexity that transcends the ordinary. My favorite track on the album, "Because Tonight," spends about half of its running length building up to its climax, but the payoff is well worth the time invested, with its gratifying eruption of male and female harmonies.
Another strength of this recording is that the songs have a way of making their players sound like a complete orchestra. Their surging rhythms, soaring melodies, and transcendent vocals turn even the tiniest listening environments into grand cathedrals by virtue of their acoustics alone. The music swells and fills the space more emphatically and more breathtakingly than any recording I’ve heard in quite a while. After creating an album this rich and poignant, I can't imagine that The Besnard Lakes will be the dark horse for long.
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Those present at Brainwaves on that November Saturday afternoon witnessed a new, delicious phase of Landing. With their bassist Dick Baldwen currently absent, drummer Daron Gardner has returned to bass (his original instrument), leaving machines and effects employed as the creators of rhythms. This record is very similar to that performance and parallels Slowdive's unpopular (at the time) Pygmalion in more than one way.
Here I was thinking Landing had whipped out an electro-charged set especially for the Brainwaves crowd, as I generally didn't think most people came to Brainwaves to hear their shoegazing acid pop rock.
The band's last album Sphere had songs named "Gravitational 1," "Gravitational 2," and "Gravitaional 3." Gravitatioanl IV is the name of this record with songs named "Gravitational III pt. II," "Gravitational V," and "Gravitational VI." Landing, I feel, sell themselves short by taking this approach in recycling the name as such, as this record sounds neither like outtakes from the Sphere sessions (which they claim) nor at 44 minutes does it feel like an EP. The variety of the six songs are wide enough to consider this more than just a simple EP.
Like Slowdive's final statement, on Gravitational IV, Landing tackle new approaches most fans are probably not used to. Dreamy dub is the framework for the "Each Man for Himself," which opens the record. It's a big change in their sound but it's still them. It's pure analogue bliss as no digital resembling sounds can be identified. Adrienne's faint voice can be heard whispering the opening of "Gravitational V," heavily treated with echoing delays that offset the pastoral guitar echoes, but this doesn't last. Over the course of this ten minute long bit, everything takes a turn towards the dark. As ominous drums enter, the guitars become more distorted, grainy, and bleak. The pleasantries of the earlier part give in towards something meaner and heavier. Never underestimate the shoegazing rock kids' abilities to bring the sort of doom that could make any costume-clad cretins look like clowns.
So the build on "Gravitational V" cuts suddenly to a sub-woofer friendly rumble as the third song on this side, "Sunlight," provides the peaceful and pretty stuff Landing fans have waited for: looped guitar echoes and angelic airy vocals are reminiscent of that Slowdive that everybody's heart melted to. The beauty of the vinyl-only format is that at some point it's got to be listened to on a stereo system, unless somebody's got one of those Mickey Mouse players with one speaker and I doubt anybody would want to subject their expensive vinyl to a cartridge that rough.
Side B's "Scenes Upon the Trees" is one of Landing's staple patient pop tunes with Daron taking the lead vocals while the driving drums behind "Gravitational III pt. II" is a bit like a low-fi hybrid between kraut and drone. While I love it, I'm guessing that if (and only "if," because I still don't buy it completely) this is a song truly tossed from the Sphere record it was probably because it is almost too similar to a lot of bands Landing has been known to be friends with, as well as tour and play with. After some more dissonant guitar play, Landing bring back the driving energy introduced at the beginning and wraps it in a full band song: "Gravitational VI" closes the record but in a way familiar to past records with the steady drums and quivering vintage synths we all have grown to expect.
I'm glad that people stuck around for their set. This album, like their set, is too good to go by unappreciated because of its limited nature, its format, and availability.
As a side note, to their street cred, Gravitational IV now makes them labelmates with Troum, and the guy who runs Equation now does the Organum site here on Brainwashed.
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Entrance is the alter-ego of Guy Blakeslee and from the sounds of things: a '70s rock god that has been hibernating in Blakeslee's skull. This album is loud, sweaty and gritty in the most electric way possible. It is a perfect example of rock and roll played with a passion and a purity that is not often found.
Tee Pee
"Grim Reaper Blues" sets the agenda for the entire album with its funked up thunderous roar. The guitar playing is like a mutant Jimmy Page but with less bombastic tendencies. The use of effects is a slight tweak of a knob on the right side of tasteful: not many guitarists can use the clichéd effects like wah in such a way and get away without sounding ridiculously boring. The lyrics on this song (and the rest of the album) are again almost a stereotype but the way they are sung give them the power they need. While Blakeslee's vocals are not the most impressive I have heard, many times he sounds flat but he delivers tonnes of feeling which more than makes up for his lack of "professional" vocal talent. There is a heavy emphasis on the dejected feelings that make the blues what they are.
One note of caution about Prayer of Death; the mix throughout the entire album is a touch unbalanced. Blakeslee's vocals sometimes overpower the music instead nestling in beside the instruments. It is only noticeable sometimes (although more often on smaller stereo systems or crappy headphones) but when it does happen the songs sound thinner than they should which shatters the strutting, pouting rock god image. It probably does not help that that the violin is one of the dominant instruments on the album; both the violin and Blakeslee’s voice occupy similar frequency ranges so they tend to bleed into each other.
Speaking of the violin, Paz Lenchantin’s playing is beautiful as usual. Her strings add an elegant sheen to any of the songs she plays on. "Silence on a Crowded Train" sees her hit precise and stabbing notes that work exceptionally well with the other components of the song. Her playing on "Valium Blues" and "Pretty Baby" is especially exciting. On the former, the eastern European influence of her playing and the song’s rhythm carry a lot of clout whereas the latter's swinging blues stomp is energetic and wonderfully psychedelic. Combined with a fantastic performance by Blakeslee both vocally and on a number of instruments "Pretty Baby" is one of those perfect rock songs. It is not a step forwards in rock history but a minor step back. However, it has got enough soul to make it stand out as an excellent example of blissed out rocking.
Overall Prayer of Death is an enjoyable album. It rocks out where it needs to rock and holds back when it needs to. The problem with the mix is only slight, it does not hamper my enjoyment but I did notice it so felt obliged to point it out. Aside from that, this is a refreshingly old fashioned but vital sounding album. It is not a shameless, flaccid cash-in like most bands rehashing what once was; Blakeslee is a good enough performer not to make Prayer of Death sound like a carbon copy of any other artist. The songs are played with great fervour, the music is honest sounding and visceral and really there is not much more that can be asked from an album like this.
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On this small CDR run, the long standing power electronics duo of Kevin Tomkins and Paul Taylor (better known as Sutcliffe Jugend) re-reinvent themselves after the more experimental Between Silences album. While that release consisted of multiple, subtle shorter tracks, this disc is only five songs, bookended by two massive pieces, and calls to mind the ferocity of their older work as Sutcliffe Jugend.
The disc opens with the 24+ minute title track, faint children’s voices and rather conventional guitar (not unlike the Taylor/Tomkins “rock” band Bodychoke) are introduced before the rise of processed guitar noise that’s not really harsh, but certainly not ambient. Then a switch to feedback drone and children singing what amounts to an atheist hymn (“They think they are forgiven/but everybody knows/There is no God in heaven/There is no depth below”) before the noise kicks back in. It never quite reaches the same intensity as their late '90s albums on Cold Meat Industries, but has a great deal more texture and depth. The near 10 minute "Termites Building A Tower to Infiltrate Heaven" is a much more restrained affair, feedback and violin scrapes slowly build up over time then drop off to a quiet finish.
"Obliterating Ego" is a short solo piece of abrasive electronics by Paul Taylor. It's a track closer to the sound of their older days than anything else on here, while "Her Favorite Distance was that Between a Cough and a Dying Horse" is the opposite: a very restrained piece of cut up and highly processed vocal samples from Tomkins. The disc closes with "Waves of Relentless Indifference," a 25-minute drone of piano, violin and guitar which catches a multitude of varying textures in between, similar to the occasional snippets of almost film like music SJ would put on their previous albums. This is all packaged in a lovely minimal gatefold card wallet with an insert of artwork. A very different from their previous body of work, but no less compelling, it shows that even some 27 years since they started, Kevin Tomkins and Paul Taylor continue to experiment and try new things.
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Ground Fault Recordings and Hospital Producitons would like to announce the upcoming release of "This Is The Truth", the first Sutcliffe Jugend studio album in eight years. "This Is The Truth" quite possibly stands as one of the most original and perfectly balanced noise compositions of the last 10 years. It references and uses classic Sutcliffe Jugend of old while bringing in an entirely unique and fresh element one does not hear in noise. This album is a brilliant blend of foreboding tension, and anxiety while using the most lively, disturbing, and textual elements of noise. All of which are brought together with the phenomenal detail and balance of an accomplished electronic composer. Songs that you think will explode leave you hanging with tension, while others erupt with violence out of nowhere. It's an absolutely brilliant album that was worth the wait.
The CD version is scheduled for a February release. A 2xLP version is scheduled for a March/April release. The vinyl version has 2 extra tracks as well as a different mix of the title track."
www.groundfault.net
www.hospitalproductions.com
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With a nearly equal ratio of songs and atmospherics, this second album from Atlanta’s Deerhunter falls just shy of greatness. The group meanders a bit, searching for what to say at a crossroads somewhere between mood and melody. When they do find their footing, however, there’s a lot to be excited about.
The first half especially is a momentum killer. I was able to set aside my reservations about the overlong “Intro” because the title track that arrives on its heels hits with startling impact, perhaps all the more so because of the anticipation preceding it. Yet immediately following this track is another ambient piece, dampening all of the newly discovered energy. “White Ink” is a pleasantly drifting cloud of feedback, but after the lively “Cryptograms,” it’s a bit of a step backwards. This pattern dogs the much of the album by alternating catchy tunes with abstract material that stifles any mounting enthusiasm. The atmospherics aren’t awful by any means, but their length and aimlessness slow the pace of the album unnecessarily. It’s almost a form of procrastination in a way, as if the group’s using the static pieces as interludes in which to refocus their songwriting.
The ideas start flowing more freely with “Spring Hall Convert,” spearheading a welcome succession of more structured material. They masterfully use effects on these songs to give them tremendous depth, their melodies like beacons at the heart of a dense patch of fog. “Strange Lights” beckon from within the murk, luring the listener on to the hypnotic “Hazel St.” Momentarily, they return to more ambience with “Tape Hiss Orchid.” It’s barely over a minute long, yet it’s the ideal length for this piece because its point is well made and, if anything, makes me want to hear more. This philosophy would have served them well earlier in the album, before the onset of ambivalence. Closing is “Heatherwood,” probably the album’s most down to earth track because of the secondary role of the effects.
Despite some complaints, there’s still much more to like here than not. The band has a lot of captivating songs to their credit, I just wish they weren’t so intent on hiding them between so many nebulous obfuscations. Deerhunter is on the verge of making a big statement, but I don’t think they’ve quite articulated it yet with this album.
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If a random Turkish-English dictionary isn't lying to me, then "kurtlanmak" is a word that can be translated as "become infested with worms" or "to become agitated... go stir crazy." The definition is fitting for the music. Kurtlanmak was originally released on Utech records in an edition of 200 copies; this release features a remastered version of that track and a dreary, visceral companion piece that slowly works its way into the body and begins to dissolve it.
Utech
A still image of the desert, aside from the skeletal imagery that adorns the cover, is perhaps the best visual companion for these recordings. James Plotkin's music has always been deep and thrusting, pounding its way into my ears more than any drone music I've ever listened to. Perhaps this is because his discography is littered with and began with metal releases or perhaps it is because his music has always settled deep into my bones, sounding as elemental as it often does. The thought of the desert slowly wearing away homes or massive structures like pyramids immediately comes to mind after "Kurtlanmak" begins to blow through the speakers. Plotkin introduces the piece with a guitar that is still obviously a guitar, but he doesn't allow it to exist for long before the hums and heavy moans of processed sound become the dominant factor in the music. The sound of glass forming and breaking soon features heavily in the mix. Having introduced these elemental pieces of his work, he begins to cut them together in strange and unexpected ways, making edits where I least expect them to pop up. There are drones all over this record, but it isn't merely a piece of drone composition. There is far more noise, a far more dynamic range involved through this songs half hour duration.
The presence of a recognizable guitar on "Kurtlanmak" makes both the melody it brings to the fore and the other elements of the piece stronger and more effective. After a while it's hard to imagine that the two seemingly opposite expressions of music aren't more related than they might seem at first. The gnarled, twisted guitar that appears most strongly at the conclusion of the piece has the same distant and alien qualities that the drones and noises exhibit. The twisted playing that he delivers lightens the mood of this piece a bit, but only gives way to the destitution of "Damascus."
This is a piece that works its magic by delivering recognizable bits of music as slowly as possible. Melodies emerge over minutes instead of seconds, slowly building a tension that cannot be ignored. The last ten minutes or so bring the additional surprise of percussion, banging out a shaking, almost ritualistic pattern of cymbals and low-end tom punches. It's a majestic track that evolves nearly perfectly, surpassing "Kurtlanmak" in some ways, despite the fact that it may be less diverse on the whole. After the piece has revealed itself as a consistent and thoughtful whole, it becomes even more attractive for its quiet nooks and crannies: knowing where the journey is ultimately headed makes the atomic pieces of the puzzle all the more attractive.
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This review is long overdue. This disc has been slipping up and down the pile of music that I feel has to be covered for a while now. Whenever I find myself getting around to playing it, I’m left thinking what an incredible debut release this is, and that the word needs to be spread. So finally five months later I’ve gotten my finger out. This four-tracker was recorded at Glasgow's Nice & Sleazy and captures the drums/guitar duo of Jack Figgis and Gordon McDougal in a form that belies the fact that this is their first release. The playing scarcely contains the music’s constructive but experimental nature and the very obvious sense of molten energetic live playing.
The punchy beats and circular guitar of "Beastie Blotch" blast Live 190706 off in style, the solidly hit but rattling kit keeping the song fuelled up. Strafing treble ends notes make threats to sunder the song in two, there’s a real raw-boned fire to the playing. The dark post punk shapings and the Ad Rock rant gives the song a vigorous focus to its rage, letting it work both as a head nodding rush and something deeper. Lyrically, I‘m not sure, as it’s difficult to make out, but a sense of confusion and reproach is spat out through the mouth of a heartbroken drill sergeant. This melodious racket feel is also found on “Free to Thrash” whose explosions into virulent expulsions (like it says in the title) are interspersed with sci-fi drone guitar. The third track “F Sweet” rides a clinically clear pop groove that gradually begins to warp into something a little more crystalline and spindly.
"12 Minutes, " the closer (which is only actually 6:14 long), twists up from the ground and delicately chimes its way into great sucking black holes of static flecked din. The strong echoes of John McGeoch style guitar through the early part of the track, ending in a spilt river of melted guitar parts. There seems to be a great chemistry between the pair, backing each other as they extend the duo sound down different very different paths to most other pairings. It’s great to hear a new band that sound able to competently and thoroughly brilliantly tackle diverse material in a live setting. More please.
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Ten different covers exist for this album, each of them photographs taken by Christy Romanick. Having seen all of them laid out on a table at the Brainwaves festival, for which this recording was made, I had trouble believing the liner notes when I read she used no digital means to compose these photos. The purity of the images matches perfectly the music Windy and Carl wrote for this album. The serenity of the autumn season suggested by the title is communicated perfectly in the first seconds and the frozen beauty of the recording, like Romanick's photos, is unique and stunning.
Blue Flea
Akimatsuri is named after Japanese festivals held to celebrate the autumn season, typically with an emphasis on a good harvest. From what I understand these festivals are different depending on what region they're held in. It is appropriate, then, that Windy & Carl have decided to celebrate the autumn season with their own particular kind of music. The different photographs that are spread over the 500 copies of this recording are equally important, however. Akimatsuri is described as a collaboration with photographer Christy Romanick. The images are absolutely stunning. Anyone who attended Brainwaves can testify to the quality of Romanick's work as it was featured as a slideshow during Windy & Carl's performance, each of the photographs a perfect match for the solitude and peace this duo provided that day. This music harmonizes perfectly with thoughts of a cool breeze and the changing colors of leaves, the slow decay as time marches towards winter. It's a time of year when death is undeniably recognizable as equally sad and beautiful.
Divided into five parts, the album consists primarily in the slow building of steam. Easy drones made of organ or keyboard float on the edge of consciousness behind the warm fuzz of an electric guitar and the lazy strumming of strings. Approximately 11 minutes into the composition, an uneasy silence falls on the record before a glimmering guitar solo whispers its way through the music: it's perhaps the most noticeable moment on the album because it is so unexpected and majestic. The fact that the music had been working towards this inverted crescendo was not evident until the crescendo happened. Repeated listens make the tension that Windy and Carl slowly and meticulously built more evident, but the sudden beauty of that guitar solo stands out for me every time.
The album descends after this moment, reveling in the calm that follows so many excited moments. The patient strumming from the first half of the record returns and Akimatsuri slowly fades away into a haze of keyboards and humming guitars. The album is meant to be a celebration, as aforementioned, but the ending reminds me of the first snows of winter. Only certain places here in the states have had the chance to see those snows and the unearthly moan of sounds that populate the end of this record make that white scenery all the more missed. Whatever the end of the album is supposed to represent, there's little doubt in my mind that Akimatsuri is one of Windy and Carl's best recordings. The awe that their serene compositions inspire is amplified by the beauty of the packaging and the care these three artists took in presenting the package as a perfectly realized whole. The music and photographs are intimate enough, but when taken in together they seem like a gift meant for whoever is holding it and not like a product meant for consumption.
Anyone interested in Christy Romanick's work should visit her website at www.space30a.com. The site is currently undergoing some work, but her portfolio has been made available there and some photographs used for both Akimatsuri and the Windy and Carl performance at Brainwaves can be found in that portfolio.
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Like the title implies, the songs on this mostly electronic compilation share a similar chilly aesthetic. They also share a tendency to stray into dark territory, making this collection an excellent soundtrack for an eerie winter’s night.
Haunted Sound Laboratory’s "Ghost in the Blood (live)" starts things off appropriately enough with a simple heartbeat and heavy breathing. Various rattles and drones venture forth from the shadows only to recede from whence they came. It’s hard to guess where the sound will come from next, and it’s this unpredictability that makes it an ideal opener on a compilation of left turns. The album builds intensity with a few beat-oriented songs, including Danny Hyde’s intriguing remix of Mink’s "Ride," before heading for starker territory with tracks by the likes of Black Sun Productions, a Mort Douce remix by Tactile, and a pensive collaboration between Sid Redlin and Gregory Rapp. The album veers again, this time brightening somewhat with more beats and a greater emphasis on vocals than previously. Kuxaan-Sum turns in some haunting whispers on "La Mentor De’Morte" before giving way to NOT’s rocking "To Taka Gra." The latter seems a little out of place amid so many electronic acts, yet it’s a decent track and doesn’t derail the mood completely. The album’s most abrasive song comes from Bad Wolf, whose "Die Ostara Satan America" is composed of various rhythmic static, electronic squeals, and industrial groans. The last few songs head in a quieter direction, beginning with 3z13’s bubbly "They Don’t Know" and ending with "Searching for Life in the Ethane Oceans" by The Insektys Isotope, probably the compilation’s coldest, sparsest track and its perfect ending.
While there may be a couple of lulls, there are no outright duds to be found. The sequencing plays to the strengths of the individual songs and changes pace at all the right times to keep the listener engaged as it unfolds along every stage, with enough variation to make this album a rewarding, compelling experience.
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- Haunted Sound Laboratory – Ghost in the Blood (Live)
- Bad Wolf – Die Ostara Satan America
- The Insektys Isotope – Searching for Life in the Ethane Oceans
 
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