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Last year Richard James released eleven EPs over the course of a few months. The Analordseries was gimmicky marketing at its best. It looked like James wasspreading himself too thin, quantity over quality. This CD is acompilation of what James sees as the best cuts from the series. It’snot that inspiring and marks a step backwards for James.Rephlex
If he had released these tracks ten years ago, it would have mademore sense. Although even then it would be overshadowed by the Analogue Bubblebath or Hangable Auto Bulb releases which still sound more progressive than the Analord tracks. When these EPs were released first I only bought one of them (Analord 02 which is not represented at all on this compilation) and decided that it wasn’t worth keeping up with the series. Listening to Chosen Lords I hear that I wasn’t mistaken in my decision. As far as AFX releases go, this is uninteresting.
The music isn’t bad, it’s still listenable but it’s disappointing asJames has had a golden touch. A couple of tracks stand out as being good;“Crying in your Face” starts off with a simple but effective synth bassline with an equally simple beat following it as wobbly noises andgorgeous melodies spin around them. “Cilonen” is also worth payingattention to, there’s some nice sequencing with the drums and rhythms.Even at their best, the tracks on Chosen Lords pale incomparison to the rest of the Aphex output. It sounds like he'simitating himself. At their worst, such as “Klopjob” or “Fenix Funk 5,”it is like someone less talented trying to imitate AFX. I don’t knowwhich is more depressing.
I hope this is an aberration in the AFX/Aphex Twin story. I have always loved James’ music but I find this Analord period to be frustrating. With any luck, Chosen Lordswill close off this chapter and in a couple of years there will be anew album worthy of the AFX name. Unfortunately I am going to be waryin future and will most likely avoid the inevitable reissue of all the Analord tracks in a CD box set.
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There are no surprises here, but I don't suppose thelisteners of Growing are necessarily at the gates demanding precisely whatit is that the band's name teasingly implies: growth. This album could be The Sky's Run Into the Sea; it could be The Soul of the Rainbow andthe Harmony of Light. Up to this point, the realm of Elysian drones hasbeen well-trodden by this duo, but it doesn't hurt to retread some sweet-smelling fields or even lie down in the grass for a while.
Troubleman/Megablade
Despite the name, Growing's fourth album Color Wheel doesn't feature a nifty wheel with color acetates revolving around some psychedelic background in the vein of Sonic Boom's Spectrum LP, butI wish it did. Instead, it has a white cover with a spare colored-pencilrendering of an explosion of polychromatic small circles (green, blue, aquamarine, baby blue) bursting forth over what could be either a taupe mountain range or dirty clouds. The image is pure, crystalline, and reinforced by the first few bars of "Fancy Period." A tremulous column ofsound reflects back and forth, like light refracting through prismic crystals. The song soon comes back down to earth, though. The firmament's presence is both announced and enunciated by fuzzy, staccato drones. They explode in a call and response between two sounds which arenot really speaking the same language. One is slightly ethereal and effervescent, the other chthonic and clumsy. This is the central conceitof any Growing song.
"Blue Angels" announces itself about four minutes in with a resounding bass-level buzz which almost sounds like a squadron of Boeing F/A-18 Hornets passing overhead. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have the music video for Van Halen's "Dreams" in my mind right now, and consequently the mind-blowing Mr. Universe cover art of their 51/18album. "Blue Angels" (and really this band) is made for people everywhere who enjoy listening to bagpipe music. The problem is that the band belabors the song for too long, deliberating overthe same few oscillations and clinging to them too tenaciously. Growing are enamored of the 15-minute song because it is suitable as a live improvisation technique, not because it always sounds good on your stereoat home. While performing, the band can create hypnosis through drone, though recorded they can more often induce intolerance.
I prefer the frugality of "Friendly Confines" (7.5 minutes) or the economy of "Peace Offering" (6 minutes). Both songs efficiently tackle the Eno-esque drifts, the punchy punctuation, and the severe crescendos. "Friendly Confines" gives each realm its equal share of elegance and could possiblybe the acme of Growing's existence. By album's end, beware of "Green Pastures." Its pastoral charm is loudly lacerated by swaths of huge, metallic noise. It ends placidly enough, but your guts are still shakingfrom the scarier moments.
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This Italian duo has recorded a good debut album but have cursed it with a terrible name. Judah are industrial journeymen, they aren’t setting the world on fire but at least they’re getting the job of writing enjoyable music done.Small Voices
The incredibly creepy cover (featuring a naked boy crawling in a bizarre fashion) and song titles like “Hitler Fucks Jesus” and “Strychnine” had me prepared for noisy beats and lots of screaming and confrontational lyrics. Instead the mood was more subdued with most songs consisting of only a slightly fuzzy synth bass, organ, and softly uttered but still menacing vocals. Imagine Michael Gira on lots of diazepam. There’s not much aggression, even on the colorfully titled tracks mentioned above.
Judah touch on a lot of landmark electronic artists There’s a track called “Ode to Suicide” that is more an ode to the band than the act itself. They are also heavily indebted to the softer sounds of Throbbing Gristle, Swans and Cabaret Voltaire. There is not much that is unique about them; they are a product of their own record collections. That being said, Cool Crap is an entertaining piece of work. There are a couple of lackluster songs like “Naked Candy” and “The King in Las Vegas,” but equally there are some top drawer songs like “Strychnine” and “Holy.” I think “The King in Las Vegas” was meant to be the climax of the album but it stumbles along for far too long, taking ten minutes when three would have been sufficient.
Judah haven’t proved themselves to be a remarkable band. I do think they have the potential to make a name for themselves, especially if they were more mercenary when it comes to assembling an album.
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As Wolf Eyes continue to swing between incredible ‘weird shit’ andtypical ‘black tar noise’ releases, their presently MIA member AaronDilloway is eclipsing his sometime cohorts. Under this new strictlycassette pseudonym, and many other aliases, he has been honing hisprevious abattoir dregs noise bursts.Hanson
SpineScavenger moves in a region of far more interesting and controlledsound structures, albeit blood-rusty ones. Starting with some healthyabuse of the hulls of underwater wrecks “Side A” moves judderingly intoa rhythm of plodding engines plops. Building in volume this selectionof sheer steel pitches soon rises to a boiling insecticide cry. Cheapdigital overlaps smooth this out into low thudding encircling brickwall of rhythm sounds. Much like most of his better solo work Dillowayappears to be exercising considerable restraint, refusing to open theoily throttle into the red.
The flipside is a more obviouslyhands-on exercise, pulling on the pigtails of slender electronic tones.A noisy thudding chocolaty splurge manages to balance insistence andabandon in the same rushes. It shoves and pulls within its loosecomposition like a prolapsed heart being slammed into meaty lungs andfat covered ribs. There’s an almost proggy sense of stellar skies ashigh spacey drones shoot off into the atmosphere like rusty comets.Where these might normally fall to earth as large crumbly noise chunks,here they ratchet at the ears like knives on radiator grills. Aboutthree quarters of the way in there’s a more human element introduced.Drops of distant reverberated child’s vocals wobble through the song,sounding like they were pulled from some playground field recording.Usually you’d expect a member of the Wolf Eyes posse to milk this forfull creep-out factor, but this is used more in a weird dub elementstyle. Dilloway’s extra curricular music is taking leaps and boundsbeyond his both his European and American peer’s fulltime bands.
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It's strange that near-legendary techno producer and Pure Plasticfounder Mark Broom feels the need to put out records on BPitch Control, a labelwhose buzzword, bandwagon status seems to have peaked in recent years. Explanation could be that the A-side of From London With Love is actually aremix of an out-of-print 7” track of Broom’s from last year on the UnxploredBeats label.That Ellen Alliencommissioned this 12” based on her esteem for this track (“Twenty Nine”) is telling,as alone it is great example of Broom working with very simple additiveelements to rend an effective, driving track. “Twenty Nine” has great beat transparency with shuffling, groaningtextures giving the straight house beat a lot of room, seamlessly intensifiedin scope and force as the melodic synth part that binds the track isadded. This melodic lead, just a fewheld, tense minor chords gives the track a gothic, IDM-ish feel with an strongintrinsic rhythm that does not harm, allowing a very substantial fade.
The first track on the flip might be myfavorite if the least original; “Together” is more straight electro, juxtaposingpunchier, rough-edged rhythms with less homogeneous synth passages of chimingtones and a frozen, obscured female mumble ”Together.” The last, “Rock N Roller,” is unlike anythingI’ve heard from Broom, practically an industrial track, recalling immediatelythe tinny shuffle rhythms and ‘crowd’samples used in Marilyn Manson’s “Beautiful People.”
Broom builds these elements (admittedlystrange and intriguing) into a clipped and stark techno headbanger that withits title makes me think of stadium venues rocking off their hinges, anextra-curious rounding-off for another worthy release for both artist andlabel.
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Emo vocals are to music as venereal diseases are to sex. St. Louis natives Derek Dobson and Josh Nissenboim might have had something going for them when they began recording this album, but their decision to include vocals can only be considered a lesson in how to spoil an already stumbling and poorly produced release.
Self Released
I wish every bad emo front man in the world would suddenly up and decide their real calling in life had more to do with acting than it does with making albums that pollute already choked and diseased air waves. I can name maybe two bands in that "style" with voices impressive enough to pull off the whole crying bit and even their careers have descended into a mire of stale and fake sentimentality. So, with that in mind, a record like Hello Special Glowing World! might be made into an instrumental album instead of a pop record with sometimes clever lyrics, but piss poor performance. Over the course of the entire album it's quite obvious that Box_ wants to make a record like Stereolab used to, but with an ear to the instrumentation and arrangements employed by playful electronic bands like Plaid. The only problem is that they seem uncomfortable with the equipment and programs they employ, so instead of unfurling layers of lush orchestral samples, they simply stumble through rhythm after rhythm and synth part after synth part.
I can't fault the group for trying to do something unique and failing,but the instant their vocals come into the mix, I'm a little more thanrepulsed. Their sing-songy delivery and half-dramatic posturing soundmade for MTV and add nothing to the music. In fact, even if they hadmanaged to record more appealing utterances, the very presence of theirvoices wouldn't make much sense and would still clutter the music.Above all, their voices dominate the record, so any creative outputthey might've mustered this first time around is almost completelyobscured by their... singing. On the upside, there are some fairlydirect and amusing lyrics all over the record, one being from the song"When I Try To Impress My Girlfriends Sometimes They Burn To Death orDrown in Very Cold Water." Aside from the title giving me a good gutlaugh, the lyrics detail a pretty fantastic scene in which a couple ofgirls meet ill fates at the hand of a boy too preoccupied with hisoutward appearance to do anything about it. Another song details howthe singer would love to play mix and match with the body parts ofvarious women, constructing a perfectly sexy and alluring woman fromdifferent breasts, lips, arms, legs, and so on. It turns out to be arather endearing song, but everything leading up to the end is amusing.
Hello Special Glowing World! is only six bucks and, as such, might be worth picking up simply because it has entertainment value. As a record it fails, being both clumsy and under-written. I hesitate to call the record crap for a couple reasons, one of them being that I'm from St. Louis, Missouri and another being that I did get a couple of good laughs out of listening to it. Listening to it right now I find myself wishing that the duo would've taken more time to add more to their work. As it stands, too much of the record is bare boned and frail, resting on just a few tricks and some badly produced musicianship gone lazy.
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This is the best metal album I’ve heard in years. Stuff your Mastodonsand your Opeths, Lair of the Minotaur stomp all over them. This is amajor change of opinion for me: I used to think they were no greatshakes but with their new album they have completely won me over.Heavily influenced by every great metal band, they have made a stomperof an album that is relentless.The Ultimate Destroyer starts off with a track with the veryapt title of “Juggernaut of Metal,” the band charge through it like abull in a china shop. Vocalist and guitarist Steven Rathbone soundsimmense as he screams about bashing brains, eating entrails and generalmayhem. The song finishes with him growling the lyrics like a beast.His guitar work keeps up with his vocals; the riffs are thick and full.Barrara’s bass is a wall of sludge, I can never pick it out but I canfeel it. The strings are more than adequately backed by Herweg’sdrumming. His pounding to “Grisly Hound of the Pit” is incredible.
One track that I really have to comment on is “Cannibal Massacre.” This was released in an extended mix as a singlea few months ago and I really couldn’t abide it. It was far too long.Thankfully on the album it has been chopped down to nearly half itslength and it works all the better for it. None of the tracks go on toolong; the album is short by today’s standards at minutes compared tothe compulsion of most bands to use up all the 80 minutes of space on aCD. The relative brevity of The Ultimate Destroyer adds to its appeal. It’s like a quick, hard punch to the nose.
Lair of the Minotaur pay homage to several of metal’s greats: thereare elements of Slayer in “Behead the Gorgon;” Sabbath’s influence iseverywhere; and Chuck Schuldiner’s Death are also lurking between theriffs. There is also a more modern bass-heavy production (they are onSouthern Lord for a reason) about them that keeps the musiccontemporary. Granted it’s no giant leap for metal but when Lair of theMinotaur leap, they land heavy. This is proven by the album’s closer“The Hydra Coils upon this Wicked Mountain” which crawls along at aMelvin’s pace. It’s a terrific end to a terrific album.
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This is the sound of post-rave culture chopped up and spitviolently back at the heads of those who remember what it was like totweet on whistles incessantly in a warehouse at five in the morning,but it's also a trip through Mathhead's unique headspace by way of hissampler. Mathhead'sdebut for Reduced Phat represents the most fun I've had with abreakbeat record in some time.
Reduced Phat
This New York-based producer'stake on blistering breakcore rave anthems is a perfect example of thepower of the sampler. The first twenty seconds of the first track on this record containmore samples than most entire albums, making it nearly impossible totell where Mathhead is going from the outset. This is the kind of record I want to hoist up wheneverthe copyright mooks rear their heads and claim that the digital worldis killing the profitability and creativity of music. On thecontrary, digitial technology and free access to an almost limitlesssupplies of shitty techno records is what makes records like this onepossible, and we need more of them.
Mathheadpays as much homage to the last twenty years of contemporary dancemusic as he makes a parody of it, and that's what makes TheMost Lethal Dance fun without leaving it sounding like aone-note joke. Laying goofy house piano riffs under ballisticbreakbeats is nothing new, but there's a certain joy in the wayMathhead cuts an amen, a rumbling bassline, and a soul singertogether. There are dozens of people doing this sort of thingright now, but this is probably the tightest and purest hybrid of shortattention span rave and jungle mashups that I've heard from the lot.
Thevinyl version of The Most Lethal Dance featuresthree Mathhead originals along with an excellent mix of "Bonafidekilla"from Aaron Spectre and a megamix courtesy of Drop the Lime. Theforthcoming CD version has all of that and a couple of extra tracks,including a strangely ambient remix by Mad EP. WhereReduced Phat has previously visited the visceral and hard-edged take onthis sort of thing courtesy of Edgey and Enduser, Mathhead's recordsounds more like the happy, bouncy flipside of the breakcore scene, andit's a welcome change of pace.
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Blackshaw might well have been outgunned by the more famous style-fusing traditional guitar players (e.g. Fahey, Rose and Chasny) in terms of recognition, but things look likely to be on the turn. After the 12 string sucker punch combination of Celeste and Sunshrine releases, this gatefold Important (and important) release consolidates his position as more than just an up-and-comer.
Songs steadily pick up speed like rushes of water breaking over stones, the higher notes glinting in the sunlight. "The Elk with Jade Eyes" is joined by a glistening sitar, fleshing out the track into some kind of shoegazing / traditional hybrid. Blackshaw isn’t afraid to bring the songs back in to their central motif as the minutes fly by in toe tapping reverie. It’s this graceful and dazzling multicoloured push and pull between the obviously crafted compositions and improv that makes the album so refreshing. Other guitarists are happy to daub their lightning fingered chops across tracks in fast but lifeless monochrome, content to either weird out or wow the listener; Blackshaw glitters and sparks.
The closing piece and title track moves away from pointed finger work to a brittle percussive strum. The song’s descending triumph comes from a harmonium, although the sound is reedier and breathier than that. The breezes and trembling tremolo waves of "Spiralling Skeleton Memorial", the dew covered dawn grass of the cover (and the other rural/nature artwork) brings a slight pastoral slant to Blackshaw. But O True Believers doesn’t do more than dip into this field, the song’s here belong more to Spring skies than they do the earth.
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After nearly three years of relative incubation, Aereogramme hasresurfaced with a monster EP showcasing, in only 32 minutes, theirrepertoire of noise, affinity for technology, mastery of songcraft,lust for those heavy metal chords, and respect of beautiful pop. Ifthat's not enough, Seclusion comes equipped with a music video,repeated (same video, different songs), directed by Steven Morrison andpaying homage to Japanese horror directors Hideo Nakata and TakashiShimizu.Sonic Unyon
Even at only the first few seconds, I'm already excited thatAereogramme have returned. The six song EP launches with aforceful song, "Inkwell," that skillfully marries a catchy overdrivenguitar riff, Craig's pretty and wistful voice, and only a hint ofkeyboards. And, thankfully, they're those fat type of keys that workedwell with the '80s rock bands like the Cars. Things take a bit ofa sinister turn with songs like "Dreams and Bridges," the song thatscores one of the music videos, and the massive 10-ish minute-longmagnum opus, "The Unravelling." Each, of course, have theirmoments of beauty sandwiched in between screaming vocals and wailingguitars. "The Unravelling" is undeniably a treat, opening withthe sounds of a film reel, creeping in, building to anthemic heights ofcinematic levels, unleashing the fury. In a flash, however, itparts ways for an alternate melody, quelling down with the film soundsat the end. "I Don't Need Your Love" is a lush tug of the heartstrings while "Lightning Strikes the Postman" is a punchy but classyFlaming Lips cover decorated with a (possibly tongue-in-cheek) wankyhair-metal guitar solo. The EP ends with "Alternate Score," aninstrumental which is just that, an alternate score to the fabulouslyfrightening horror film music video which isn't to be ignored on thisdisc, fully charged with banging piano and a heart-racingtension. When it's done, it's unmistakably done.
Wonderfully graced by cover artwork by Isis/HydraHead Records guy AaronTurner, this EP is a fantastic reintroduction to the Scottish quartet,a band I've sincerely missed. A new albm is promised before theend of the year and with any luck, some live dates will be posted soon.
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Bubbles is justwhat I had hoped for this collaboration, only a debut in the most officialsense as Allien and Sascha Ring (Apparat) have been working together and sideby side for several years, on remixes, each other’s records, and helping runtwo of Berlin’s best label’s, Bpitch Control and Shitkatapult. I’ve heard both artists evolve over the pastfive years and become more similar in sound.Apparat began with the surprisingly solid, if busy andWarp-nostalgic IDM of early 12” singles like “Multifunktionsebene,” moving latertowards a beautiful synthesis of his stark beat-mastery and newer melancholygenerated by real horns and vocals (see 2002’s numbing “Pressure”). Ring’s healthy obsession with computermalfunction, coming out in his song titles (“Warm Signal,” “Bugs and Fixes”),references his heavy use of frantic IDM breaks and glitch, but differs fromAutechre’s or Aphex’s tech-babble in the humanity and humorous nostalgia of itspresentation. For me, the craggy,sculpted beats of an Apparat track, for all of their continually impressivetechnical ability, always seemed little more than the foil for the granular,melodic washes underneath, the most derivative and predictably sentimentalparts, but also the most grabbing. Itwas as if Ring were trying for these moments of simple emotional suspension,but felt the need to brace it all behind flashy geometry.
The biggest redirection in Allien’s history thusfar has beenthe introduction of the glitch, or ‘micro-processed’ aesthetic, arrivingalongside her most explicit flirtation with the pop format on 2003’s Berlinette. It’s still her most intricately ‘tweaked’record, the one most adaptable to any listening situation because there is somuch sonic interaction to scatter attention, and also the one with the mostpersonality, nostalgia, and similarity to the technically-obsessed music ofApparat. Allien backed away considerablywith last year’s Thrills, an albumthat seems to me now, rather than the ‘album’ albums of Berlinette and Bubbles,more like of an experimentation with style, an admittedly addictive opportunityfor Ellen to fully indulge Berlinette’shidden borrowings from classic and dated techno, trance, and even industrialtracks in efforts not to revive but to recreate with a Bpitch logo: broad-stroked,coarsely homemade, but also supercool in both technical ability and relevancyof mood.
On their new collaboration, Allien and Ring combine thedetail-orientedness and mood-primacy of late Apparat and Berlinette with the party-borrowing mood of Thrills. There are severalvocal tracks, mining the ambient techno/IDM/indietronic vibe found on Apparat’s2003 album Duplex or a Múm or Morrlabel record, but there’s also a great track in the grime style (“Metric”),some spacey, just-subtle-enough electro tracks, and songs like “Retina,” basedon live-sounding string loops and pinging, bubbling electronic noise; songswhere you can hear the insistence of the minimal melodic parts Allien does sowell, meshing beautifully with Ring’s rhythmic abstractions. The blatant trance-y melodic parts, thedistorted guitar chugging, the acidic bass parts that appeared on Berlinette and Thrills are here again in gorgeous subtle integration, an ease reflectedin the album sequencing. Bubbles is simply an immediatelyinvolving, fresh sounding song cycle of electronica, old and brand new, that’sgetting better with each half and full listen. My one qualm exists with the vocal parts which are a littledisappointing probably only in that I’m so accustomed and addicted thespeak-singing method Allien primarily uses. The new, slower and more fragile timbre of her voice suites the ambienttechno-styled tunes it accompanies, just not my stubborn ear, yet. In consolation, I can say that Ring’s onevocal does sound better than those appearing on Duplex.
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