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Kid 606 has once again maintained his distance from glitchy cut-up breakcore that so many still assume he still records and has come out with fantastic results. Unlike last year's subdued, melody-heavy Resilience, Pretty Girls is a brilliant 4/4 techno homage, both worthy of the tireless movement from a sweaty night club and a perfectly blastable summertime album.
This album is no accident, as Kid 606 even provides the BPMs on the back sleeve for all the DJs and wanna-be DJs of the world, keeping most of the eight songs around the 120-130 range. Additionally, 606 makes 909 and 303 sounds work for their supper, using the classic handclap sounds, bass kicks, and snappy snare. ADHD sufferer fans be warned: if there's one thing that separates this from his early albums is that he's exploiting themes and keeping them consistent through the entirety of the tracks instead of changing his mind continuously after a few measures.
After an engaging opening, "Let It Rock," "Chickenfight" stakes its claim as a dancefloor smash. Clocking in just over eight and half minutes, its usage of a steady pulse, sonic reverb, and electro rim shots are powerful enough to woo any Bpitch fan. The tweaked bassline makes it sexy and the party chant samples makes it human. "Boomin'" is the ultimate dancefloor stomp with a relentless bass kick. Here's where some sung vocals come into the picture, continuing through the following "Meet Me at the Bottom," and later "T.Y.T.R.," both with vocals distorted and raw enough to be something that DFA fans would eat up in an instant. "Comeuppance," on the other hand, with its steady beat and chopped up vocals is the sound the Chemical Brothers could have had if they didn't keep getting worse over the years following their second album.
The album concludes with the downtempo "Oakland Highsiding," which isn't quiet by any means, incorporating a swaying dub influenced beat infected, with plenty of echo, viral 303 acid sounds, and funky guitar samples. My only complaint is that at 4 minutes, it's about three times too short. There is something to be said for brevity, however, as 43+ minutes seems short enough to allow endless looping until each of the eight songs are memorized. If I ever make it to the beach again this year I know Pretty Girls Make Raves will be a prime candidate for the slow drives around town with the windows down low.
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Despite playing and recording with various groups for nearly ten years this is the first solo release by Norway’s Thomas Strønen. It is a fine way to start a long overdue solo career. Pohlitz is a delightful album focussed mainly on Strønen’s speciality of hitting unusual objects with drumsticks.
Pohlitz is multifaceted but not convoluted. The complexity of the music is down to the amount of detail packed into each piece. Strønen pushes the percussion not to a hideous level where only another percussionist could appreciate it but far enough to impress.It sounds like each track was recorded and worked on meticulously in the studio afterwards but this is not the case. The entire recording was performed live with no pre-programming and with no overdubs so what is on the CD is exactly what Strønen played in the studio.
“Ingenious Pursuits” is a storm of delicate sounds, like a pair of marimbas making love. A solid rhythm flows through the piece with chaotic but controlled percussion and various electronic squawks and blips dancing around it. This essentially describes the entire album but it’s not as repetitive as it sounds. Each piece has its own identity and Strønen seems adept enough not to play the same sort of beats all the time. He allows himself to try different techniques. The beautiful “E… Quilibrium” is frantic but gentle. It is quite stripped back compared to the rest of the album, there are no electronics or instruments other than what sounds like a collection of glassware and pots. The sounds nearly form a melody and the experience is almost trancelike. It fades out unnoticeably into “Mutti” which continues the frenetic rhythm before crashing to a halt and morphing into a metallic pulse. The shift in tone caught me off guard. This playfulness adds another quality of enjoyment to Pohlitz.
The closing piece, “Natural History of Creation,” is nearly nine minutes long and is the highlight of the album. Strønen slowly builds it up from a simple beat, adding more notes and fills to the beat as goes along. Before long it sounds like there’s a percussion ensemble playing as phrases are looped. When the song gets into full swing the music is hypnotic. There are so many elements to concentrate on that each time I listen to it I find a different path to follow. It is a stunning finish to a fascinating album.
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For Todd Drootin the commonly held belief that most band's earlier records are better than their later ones must hold true. Dinosaur Dinosaur is a fun record, one that I still listen to; Throw Down Your Laptops surpasses it on every level, however. It's not just a better record and a better place to start with Books on Tape, it actually manages to make sense of the term "beatpunk."
Deathbomb Arc
Drootin's whimsical approach to electronic music is fun, a mix and mash of science fiction and b-movies, maybe with a little comic book flair for good flavor, but Dinosaur Dinosaur sounded a little too typical at points to really emphasize and utilize the creativity Drootin labored so hard for. Throw Down Your Laptops is a bit simpler, a little slower, and all the better for it. Drootin economizes on this record, saving crazy moments for just the right time, pacing himself towards groovy, bass heavy outros and capitalizing on the power of simplicity. This early on, Drootin had this idea of "beatpunk" in his head and it makes more sense on this record than it does on Dinosaur Dinosaur. For one, Drootin actually sings on this release, screaming sometimes, and he sounds like a punk right out of the late 70's. When cast against the background of his thumping beats and shifting melodies, there's little doubt about where the punk in this music is.
Portions of this record sound a little off, a little out of sync in terms of musicianship, despite the fact that Drootin uses almost nothing but machines to make his records. A good example of this is "Hey Typical," a track that is almost all drum 'n' bass flavored percussion mixed with a flurry of keyboards and hi hat skips that sound like they're just a little off time, a little behind the rest of the music. It's a strange effect, giving the record a live feel when all the rest of its qualities suggest careful organization. The album is contrived, but is just left of center enough to sound completely sporadic. At moments the music will be solid, a consistent blend of dark drums and organ synthesizers, and the next it will be a claustrophobic explosion of ping pong balls and loose bolts. Despite its robotic themes and sci-fi elements, the album is easy to get into, less influenced by experimental electronic music and more directly related to the chill out music made popular by The Orb. Only this stuff is driving, it's beauty coming in how simple it is, how easy it is to pick out every note Drootin programmed. Drootin hits hard on this record and gets a big thumbs up out of me for it. His directness and love for pounding beats shows more on Throw Down Your Laptops; that makes it more fun to listen to. Drootin sounds best when his talent can keep up with his whacked up imagination.
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With Six Organs of Admittance, Ben Chasny has orchestrated both guitar-themed and noise-based releases, and on the latest masterpiece he has split the album in half with six bright, guitar heavy songs on one side and a single, deep, dark, and sprawling drone-based song on the other.
The first side is contained between two brief instrumental pieces. The bluesy fingerpicked guitar of "Torn By Wolves" at the beginning and "Wolves' Pup" at the end are each based on the same melodic theme, with the intro version prominently exhibiting drums and percussion by fellow Comets on Fire cohort Noel von Harmonson. In complete contrast to Chris Corsano's drums on last year's School of the Flower, Noel's drums sound more comfortable and collaborative, as if there's an actual band named Six Organs of Admittance this time around, and it's not simply a vessel for Ben Chasny. This isn't an isolated incident, as Noel goes on to appear on nearly all the other songs on The Sun Awakens, often joined by John Connell on Persian wind instruments the daf and ney, and Tim Green on tone generators. Lyrical vocals are spare but when they appear, they're not the crisp and clear, springy vocals we're used to hearing from Chasny, but lower and more treated on the mellow "Bless Your Blood," and higher and more sinister on "Black Wall." The ensemble are a powerful force on these four inner songs, providing both a pulse and drone to Chasny's acoustic virtuosity and distorted electric mayhem. The sound is rounded out with organ (unlisted I think) on "Desert Circle" and a punchy rhythm on the climax of "Attar."
Side two is filled with the nearly 24-minute "River of Transfiguration," described as being inspired by Hermann Nitsch, but I find it much more rewarding and less abstract. The complete ensemble is collected here, joined by a few extra vocalists, and over the course of the song patiently build a both poweful and sad aural monument. Perhaps it's the visual cues like the images on the front, back, and inside or the Persian wind instruments but its sound and feel reminds me of the Iranian scenes in the Exorcist where evil was unearthed from the desert. The guitars are heavy with effects, the drones are low and rumbling, the vocal melody is sad and steady, while the drums stagger like the gunfire of a battle. When the drums end it's as if the battle is over and the landscape is filled with nothing but dead bodies and wind: the vocals hum and the wind instruments play faint as they slowly fade to silence.
I don't find myself singing along with as many songs as I have in the past from Six Organs. When The Sun Awakens is finished, the effect is nearly the opposite: I'm left almost completely speechless and need to remain in silent reflection for a bit. This is a truly brilliant record.
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Niblock makes drones that, even at low volumes, fill the entire room. At more appropriate volumes the drones replace the room with a thick goo of sound. This three disc album is intimidating to say the least. It is a fulfilling and gratifying endurance test to listen to it all the way through.
Tom Johnson summed up Niblock with “No melodies, no harmonies, no rhythm, no bullshit” and Touch Three lives up to this great statement. On all three discs there is contempt for anything resembling traditional music yet it is nonetheless entirely musical. It’s hard to describe but that’s what I’m here for. Each track hovers around the 20 minute mark and all have one thing in common: they feel like something huge is going to break but they never deliver. Instead the music is like eating a piece of chocolate very slowly, allowing it to melt without chewing it. In the end it is far more satisfying and rewarding than the easy hit.
Each piece is composed of several recordings of a single instrument edited together to create a constant roar. The pieces utilising stringed instruments like “Harm” and “Valence” are the easiest to get into. This is probably because I’m used to hearing cellos, violas and guitars looped into drones. “Sethwork” adds an unusual twist in acoustic guitar playing with the utilisation of an ebow, a device more commonly associated with the electric guitar. On an acoustic guitar it lacks its distinctive tone and takes on a more resonant quality. It is not just the sound of the sustained notes that are used: the sounds of the ebow hitting off the vibrating strings give a creaking effect that is unsettling.
One instrument which I never thought I’d hear used to create a powerful, droning force is the recorder. This instrument brings back memories of learning how to play nursery rhymes in primary school. This clashes with the recorders on “Lucid Sea” which are as far away from those nursery rhymes as possible. Here they are layered to form a hulking mass, far denser than I expected. The recorders sound more like a pipe organ. I’m always impressed by pieces like this that make me re-evaluate my feelings about certain instruments, especially ones that I normally dislike.
The pieces incorporating saxophones are tougher to digest. “Alto Tune” at first seems thinner than the other pieces on Touch Three. It still holds the distinctive Niblock uncompromising fullness but it takes time to get going. As more and more layers are introduced, the piece becomes gentler even though it is louder. The different tones add up to what sounds like an accordion orchestra. The other two saxophone pieces, “Zrost” and “Sax Mix,” are both slow burners (relatively speaking, Niblock seems to measure time in eras, not minutes) but build up to give similar results to “Alto Tune.” “Sax Mix” in particular sounds impressive as Ulrich Krieger plays alto, tenor and baritone sax which provides a wider palette for Niblock to use.
Three discs of drones could easily end up being unnecessary and tedious but this album is a monument to what a great drone should be. Niblock has constructed solid and richly textured slabs of sound that get better with volume. Turning up the volume knob reveals more of the fine detail of music, the little effects that are the result of the sound waves interacting in the room. Touch Three is a very strong release and shows that Niblock is still far from past it.
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Reverence is a powerful force that shapes the way we hear music. Matmos' most recent record channeled that force and constructed new music for outsiders and artists of strange history. Ekkehard Ehlers' approach is different; if the past haunts the present, it is evident in how this music sounds, not in how it was created. The deep dark blues are alive and well, swelling up in new places, but telling a hauntingly familiar story.
My heart belongs, in part, to the blues and to country music; even folk music occupies a special place in my heart. Everyone from the infamous Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker to Leadbelly, Hank Williams Sr., Jimmie Rodgers, and Chet Atkins occupy some space in my collection. It's not hard to hear why people are still attracted to this music; the absolute recklessness with which so many young musicians handled themselves lends itself to modern application and the music resonates with stories that everyone is familiar with on some level. The appeal is human, in the soul, deep down in the stomach where the blues seem to settle and feel most comfortable (or uncomfortable). Ehlers has already paid tribute to Robert Johnson once before, on his Plays record, but his approach was distinctly electronic and modern. The music was enjoyable, but the editing techniques and various effects applied were oblivious to the organic qualities of old 78 records and gritty guitar work. A Life Without Fear is a new approach to an old craft, one that carries the very spirit of the blues in it despite all its surreal references.
The album begins with a guitar being tuned in out of the ether. Like a ghost out of the dark it shakes, warps, and then snaps into focus and the Mississippi Delta Basin unfolds. Blue skies, white clouds, dark green grass, and intense heat. There's mosquitoes in the air and a dirt road winding hazily into dust. The effect is immediate, but this is no effect, nor is it a sample. Ehlers has employed a band to carry out his vision this time, so instead of sounding distanced from the source material, Ehlers and his group dig right into the ground and get their hands dirty. The opening song, "Ain't No Grave," is listed as a traditional piece of music, furthering that history-centered effect the guitar confers. Not content, however, to mimic what he reveres, Ehlers leaves no stone unturned in applying story-telling to his work. If the blues ever did anything, they told a story or warned of coming trouble, detailing every lone moment, dirty deed, and passionate outburst in the book. Fittingly, then, A Life Without Fear sounds like a story. The CD begins to spin and it is as though I've just turned on an old Zenith wood-frame radio, glowing radial dial and all. Actors, actresses, sound effects, and comedy all pour out of the old speakers in a mash up of music and pulp literature. The music is as much blues as it is collage and plenty of stray sounds wonder in like dogs out of the rain while guitars strum, slide, and snap over a fire of songs.
As the album progresses, Ehlers introduces new techniques and new sounds to the mix, moving the album from Mississippi to the labors of guitarists like John Fahey. While he cannot recall the virtuosity of someone like Fahey, he does invoke his spirit. The guitar playing begins to sound classically trained as harmonics pop up like crystal sparks in the music, surrounded by the echo and reverb of a muted string. Trumpets appear in one song and in another it's as though tribal music becomes confused with Latin rhythms and Caribbean instruments. The transition from the blues to this new sound is smooth, however, Ehlers traveling back and forth with ease, introducing one to the other as though they were old acquaintances. The thick molasses that consumes the end of the record settles everything into a deep sleep, bringing the album down from its excited buzzes and swinging guitar. I can imagine sitting on a porch somewhere, lit only by a kerosene lamp, and watching the river go by, along with the night.
Ehlers takes the blues and moves with them, refusing to sit comfortably among the accomplishments of other musicians. Ehlers takes what he loves about the genre and adds his personality to the music beautifully. But he doesn't travel so far that the music becomes blurred and unrecognizable. Ehlers ends the album with Ralph Stanley's "O Death." Instead of remaining an a cappella performance, this rendition adds a cacophony of reverb-drenched guitar rumbling to a strange, almost yelled take on the vocals. This is as far away from the original material as Ehlers could've possibly gotten without completely tearing the tune apart, but then again Ehlers didn't exactly stay perfectly true to the source material anywhere else on this disc. A Life Without Fear is a great take on a style of music whose popularity has spawned plenty of no-talent hacks. Thankfully, Ehlers' interpretation is both tasteful and exploratory.
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I would be lying if I didn't say that Mojave 3's fifth album was immediately met with a whole lot of trepidation, however, a few songs into the record I found myself bebopping to Neil Halstead and co's most upbeat release ever.
In their defense, this group has a lot of expectations to live up to: as Slowdive all three of their full-length albums were three of the most important records of the 1990s; and as Mojave 3 their development reached an unbelievable peak with the epic "Bluebird of Happiness" on their last album, Spoon and Rafter. Puzzles Like You has no epics, no songs that break the verse/chorus/verse mold, and no songs that even reach 4 1/2 minutes long. Mojave 3 have stated their intentions to get back on the road and make the live rounds as far as they can, so it's understandable they wanted to make something both upbeat for them to play and fun to listen to. While I might not have been expecting this album from them, their new sound actually proved itself to be a very amiable, enjoyable sound when I showed their first video from the record, "Breaking the Ice," on Thursday night to a unanimously positive reception at my video night here in Boston.
I can firmly stand by the first half of the album. If their historic pedal steel wasn't enough to indicate Mojave 3 are obsessed with America, the song "Truck Driving Man" should seal the deal, almost mimicing BTO's "Taking Care of Business" with its banging piano, but it's obviously a British group making the noise as it's got that slight tinge of ELO-style attempts at rock and roll. The title track is a catchy clap-along number while "Breaking the Ice" is a perfect hit formula single, with energetic guitars and catchy chorus "I know you want to get away / I know nothing ever stays the same." I only start having a problem with tacky lyrics on "Big Star Baby," when Neil Halstead sings how he doesn't want to be a big star. Fear not, Neil, it's not happening with that song.
The second half of the album is definitely the weaker half, with more songs I didn't find all that challenging nor mature for a band with 16 years of writing and recording experience who have achieved greatness on a number of occasions in various styles. While I love "Ghost Ship Waiting," I'm not fond of the accent heavy "Kill the Lights," with the silly refrain "Kill the lights 'cos I'm getting oldah / Watch the news and drink more watah / She likes a man with his trousahs shortah," which apes the musical style of ? & the Mysterians' "96 Tears." Neil's probably taking the piss out of the Brits, but I never found approaches like this clever nor witty.
Once classic elements, like a strong presence of Rachel Goswell, are sadly missing, however, a number of pieces remain in the group, showing themselves later rather than sooner: the pedal steel guitar and the warbly theremin underneath songs like "You Said It Before" and "To Hold Your Tiny Toes," but the framework is predominantly different. Puzzles Like You is a notably peppier approach than the group has ever taken and I can understand why they did it. While I think the album has its good and not so good moments, together with some of their timeless Mojave 3 classics like "Love Songs on the Radio" or "Mercy," the variety of repertoire has expanded for the better on the whole, and it could seriously make for some fantastic live shows.
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This deluxe 5xCD set acts both as a box for collectors wanting some restored concert recordings and a fantastic archive of Wire's 1970s studio albums all in one place for those who might not own them already. While the covers are artfully restored, the accompanying booklet is immaculate, and the mastering is stunning, it doesn't make the 1995 Japanese CDs nor the Behind the Curtain release obsolete (yet).
Live at the Roxy, London - April 1st & 2nd 1977 is the first CD in the box, capturing two identical sets five months before Wire recorded their debut LP Pink Flag. These are undeniably the "early versions" of some of the songs, as Wire would play them over and over again until they were completely pleased with the songs. Some minor changes were made: tempos and words got modified slightly: "one dimensional man," for example in "Straight Line" became "one dimensional boy" and "Mr. Suit" is noticably faster on the LP. This was a new lineup for Wire, after losing member George Gill, but the band was tight, well-rehearsed and comfortable enough to speak boldly to the audience from the stage in rare terse comments between songs like "If you want it louder, go see the sound man back there," Graham telling the audience to "pay attention," and "12XU" being introduced as a single (yet there's no indication that I can find that it was at the time). Mike Thorne, acting as producer and EMI talent scout managed to get the recordings to become Wire's demo and the rest is history.
The joy in these recordings is that the concerts are completely full and unedited, despite only amounting to about 25 minutes each. Just like the recording of Pink Flag, one song nearly always starts on where the downbeat of the last song just ended would have been, confusing any newbie to their music into wondering where the songs end or begin! Cherry picked from the April 1st date to fill bonus tracks on the 1995 Japanese CD of Pink Flag were "Mary Is a Dyke," "Too True," "Just Don't Care," "TV," "New York City," and their cover of J.J. Cale's "After Midnight," all tracks never commercially appearing on any studio LP. Additionally, the version of "12XU" from the second night was the version which appeared on the Restless compilation On Returning and with "Lowdown" on The Roxy, London WC2 from EMI, a top 20 various artist LP released in August of 1977. The concert recordings are well-preserved, probably hanging around in EMI's vaults for years before they finally gave up, perhaps EMI conceded that they can't make any money off Wire despite the amount of publicity Wire always seem to get!
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Live at CBGB Theatre, New York - July 18th 1978 wasn't recorded or preserved as well. The CD was recorded for a Live at the CBGB series that aired on WPIX radio in NYC and wouldn't have even survived had the tape not been handed to one of the Wire members after a radio session. It doesn't play the role of a fine live recording nor a hidden gem, but serves as a document of their brief US visit, where they played a couple shows, missed a few shows, and did a radio session. It's not a disc that I can imagine going back to for a lot of listens. The recording sounds as gritty as CBGB's was. An important club, CBGB's was never known for its sound or sanitation, and in the '70s, Wire weren't nearly as popular with the audiences in the US as they were in the UK and Europe. Missing flights and missing shows, the recording comes from the second set scheduled for the second night, featuring songs that all appeared in studio versions at some point. But the band seemed tense, tired, and sounded like they were rushing through the songs to try to get the whole damn thing over. A better Chairs Missing material document is by far the CD/DVD release from the performance on Germany's Rockplast TV program, On the Box.
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Discs 3, 4, and 5 in the box are restored versions of Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154: albums that have been reviewed by people worldwide for nearly three decades at this point. Basically, you should own them by now if you don't. I won't say anything more about their content or worth, you'll just have to believe me. What you get with this release is a deluxe booklet that contains lyrics that didn't appear on some of the previous pressings, back stories of the band and their experiences during the time of the recordings, tours, and various other tidbits. Absent are all bonus tracks, as the CDs represent the LPs in their original state. I understand the respect for purity in this decision, but the songs that are gone are important pieces of Wire's history and I would hope a compilation will be forthcoming to tell those stories. "Dot Dash" and "Options R" were the studio recordings initially released on Pink Flag; the extended (and far superior, in my humble opinion) single version of "Outdoor Miner," "A Question of Degree," and "Former Airline" are absent from Chairs Missing, but the four songs absent from 154: "Song 1," "Get Down parts 1&2," "Let's Panic Later," and "Small Electric Piece" are a different story as they were actually released with initial copies of 154 as a bonus 7". Of course, Wire/Pink Flag could be gearing up to compile these with the post-EMI single tracks "Our Swummer," "Midnight Bahnhof Cafe," "Crazy About Love," "Second Length," and "Catapult 30," along with some other leftover bits and pieces floating around.
For samples of these classic recordings see our Wire Sound Archive site.
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The single track is of 8:29 duration, naturally enough given the date of Katrina. Conceived by New Orleans' abstract-expressionist Potpie (with thirteen releases to his credit, mostly sine-wave generated pieces like Black Panther Coloring Book), and executed by Alec (of drone-psych band Chef Menteur), the piece takes off at around the one-minute mark when the echo and loop kick in. There's no way this could have the shock of some of Reich's early audio-collages, forty years hence, but it's apt in that if you find yourself begging for it to be over, well, that's how the Crescent City citizens feel.
(Available for free download at http://www.backporchrevolution.com/hiddentrack/ .)
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Originally performed as part of All Tomorrow’s Parties “Don’t Look Back” series, the Melvins decided after they had played the gigs to actually record the album. So they hired a warehouse and ran through the set without an audience. The end result is an album that shows how ahead of its time Houdini was; it still sounds as relevant and powerful today as it did thirteen years ago.
When I first heard Houdini many years ago, I was mainly used to listening to absolute rubbish (barring the odd exception). Back then it was a revelation in heaviness and this new live interpretation allows me to listen to that album with fresh ears. It also allows me to kick myself harder for not being able to attend the Dublin performance of this album. As this album was recorded live without an audience, the sound quality is great. In many places it’s clearer and sharper than the original studio version. I think that the lack of audience adds to the tension of the pauses in the songs, the end of “Joan of Arc” being an example of this as each time it stops and stutters I expected the roars and whoops of a crowd. Instead the reverberation of the warehouse adds a touch of menace to the music.
These new versions are true to the original recordings in spirit if not always in performance. Houdini Live 2005 opens with “Pearl Bomb” (the song order is different to the original). Instead of the mechanical sounding drum beat there is Dale Crover’s drumming. It’s slightly sloppy but fits the song perfectly which is Crover’s style (he’s the sloppiest tight drummer I’ve heard). Trevor Dunn from Fantômas joins the core of Crover and King Buzzo and he plays like they were his bass lines to start with. Buzzo’s guitar and vocals both sound bigger this time around. Throughout the album he sounds like he’s shouting at me, demanding my attention.
There’s not a version of any song that is inferior to the original album. Equally, this album isn’t better or a replacement for the studio album. Instead this is like an alternative reality version of Houdini. “Night Goat” has an extended intro with Buzzo’s guitar feedbacking like a bitch before Crover comes in with some seriously fuzzed out bass. The song rears itself eventually like some monster from the depths reaching out for dinner. For me, the centrepiece of Houdini was always “Joan of Arc,” a grinding slab of heaviness. Here it is slightly faster but still maintains all of its charms. It is as close to any song comes to defining what the Melvins sound like. It bleeds from the speakers and congeals in the ear canal. Unfortunately it’s still too bloody short.
On the other hand, songs like “Honey Bucket” and “Going Blind” show a more accessible side to the band. They are still the most accessible parts of the album but pack more oomph now. Not considerably more of an oomph but more nonetheless. One track that stands out as being an out and out improvement is “Spread Eagle Beagle.” Over twelve minutes of thumping percussion from all three members of the band. In addition, Lustmord steps up the plate and adds processed percussion of his own. The song sounds huge compared to the original. The space of the warehouse is particularly audible on this track. It’s a colossal way to end the album.
As mentioned previously, Houdini Live 2005 isn’t going to replace Houdini. It does allow reappraisal of these songs. They still sound as breathtaking as they did when I first heard them. I don’t know how many bands can go back to an album like this (especially one that was never intended to be reproducible live) and provide such a wonderful reincarnation.
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2002 saw the release of two Peter Brötzmann related albums, both performed and recorded with his Chicago Tentet. Pillow member Fred Lonberg-Holm was part of that tentet and is joined by Michael Colligan, Liz Payne, and Ben Vida to re- imagine Brötzmann's "Images." An already difficult piece of music, Pillow rework this piece eleven times over, erecting a consistent, if drawn out, album.
Anyone who's heard Machine Gun will undoubtedly think of intensity and confrontation when the name Peter Brötzmann comes up. His style is audacious, bombastic, and all the more enjoyable for it. His work with the Chicago Tentet has been called, at various points, a bit more subdued than normal. While Images (released by Okka Disk) might've been quieter than normal, the versions as performed by Pillow are nothing like what I've heard by Brötzmann in the past. They are more meditative than anything he's belted out of his lungs on sax and, in fact, there's no sax to speak of anywhere in these recordings. Instead, an improvised rumbling subsists over 18 minutes of space, reshaping itself with the calls of trumpets, cellos, guitar, dry ice, and other instruments. Liz Payne's percussion is less percussive than it is environmental; it is a rapidly changing series of hiccups and metallic whines, like the wheezing of a giant printing press in its death throes.
True to many of Brötzmann's own proclivities, there are very few signs of melody and when they do appear they are a brief and welcome disturbance. For the majority of the time, this quartet plays with tonal qualities and stumbling rhythms, squeaking and shaking as much avant garde jazz does, but never exploding into rages like Brötzmann is so fond of doing (Brötzmann sometimes doesn't bother with quiet moments, continually destroying sound as he goes). The album flows together well enough, keeping a safe distance from the bland territory of material remixed over and over again for a single disc. While this saves the music from some redundancy, at certain points the random noise all becomes a bit monotonous, failing to summon up the excitement Brötzmann's playing has often evoked in me.
While my interest is piqued in small increments, I find my mind wandering during large portions of the record, my attention span drawn to what's happening around me instead of the music that's playing—there's nothing that stands out enough to keep me drawn inside the music. There are moments of beauty, especially when the cello parts stand out among the other sounds. It seems that the more meditative and withdrawn the band becomes, the more elegant and capable they sound. The last track is a great example of this, especially when compared to the other interpretations.
Taking in a piece of this record here and there can be entertaining, but as an album it fails to be consistently entertaining; it's status as a work of art is a topic beyond me. Though coherent, the album simply isn't varied enough to warrant the amount of time this band dedicates to this particular piece. "Images" was one half of a record, not a record itself.
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