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31 October 2005

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Inna City Pressure was a true revelation on its initial releasein 1998. Long before the term "mashup" entered the lexicon andunforeseen marriages between, say, Jay-Z and the Beatles were commoncurrency, Dr. Israel welded together reggae, dub, metal, punk, jungleand drum 'n' bass with ease and verve, simultaneously revealing theunderpinnings the genres had in common while seamlessly creating afresh and vital sound all his own. Seven years on sees Dr. Israel witha new label, hordes of imitators, thousands of these new "mashups," anda large potential audience that may not be in the know. So the braintrust at ROIR has deemed it time for an Inna City Pressure reissue.
ROIR

The "new" record (out on the street just in time to drum up noise forROIR's fall release lineup) boasts more than cosmetic updates: alongwith the new packaging and liner notes, a number of the original tracksare "reinterpreted," along with some new “bonus” tracks tacked onto theend. Israel's skill and vision are still apparent; the collaborationwith Rancid on “Coppers” rarely fails to boggle first time listener'sminds, and the album's gem, Israel's take on the Clash's “ArmagideonTime,” is still the real deal and does more to affirm the punk group'sreggae influences than anything Jones or Strummer did or said. Israel’ssongwriting runs the predictable gamut of the urban ghettolifestyle—drugs, crime, violence and injustice. A taste of Rastaspirituality anda true punk ethos, most apparent on the obvious tracks but not lostelsewhere and never sounding absurd, keeps the tired subject matterfrom being hackneyed or embarrassingly cliché. Israel’s lyricaladaptability—keeping time in a dancehall cadence, rapping or singinghis soul out—also helps to keep the sound fresh.

The timing of thereissue raises eyebrows, but some could hardly fault ROIR can hardlyfor it, a fringe label even on the indie scene, they are the newowners of some damn fine master tapes and currently wield the ability(read: marketing and production budget) to make noise for their newreleases while reminding the listening public of a modern-day classicrecord. Purists will question the absence of more new material. Theinclusion of a second disc of entirely new material (perhaps Inna City Dubbedor), would have justified the reissue without question. For now, thefinal verdict rests with Dr. Israel's new material. If it provesworthwhile, then Inna City Pressure's repackaging was a timelyand justifiable exercise. If not, it'll be little more than musicalmasturbation, a pointless stunt and a regrettable stain on Inna City Pressure's legacy.

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31 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

This is an album filled to the brim with the sounds of the space-time beingslowed down to an audible crawl. Sun Ra thought that space was theplace, but Aranos must've decided that such a comment just wouldn't doand took the whole concept a step further: the space-time continuum isthe place, a more ephemeral, seething place.

Pieros

If there were gods beforethe universe began, this might've been how they sounded: birds buzzingand calling out over tremendous spaces, questioning the absence ofmaterial and filling it with their cacophonous voices. Aranos' musichas been especially voluminous as of late, being far more free inarrangement and more concerned with the shape of sound rather thanmelody and lyrics. This is the case here, but Aranos' choice ofinstruments makes the abstract sound homey. The buzz of a violin or theoscillation of metal sheets is familiar, providing all the comfortneeded to listen to these three lengthy pieces. True to the (ratherloose) form often associated with textured music, Aranos' soundencompasses a cinematic flare, using the fall of footsteps and thewhisper of excited pipes to portray the architecture of a haunted houseor the gravity of open spaces too large to understand. Consequently,the distinction etched out between the three pieces seems arbitrary,it's nigh on impossible to determine when one starts and the otherbegins.

And Soon Coffin Sings feels like a single pieceimagined in three movements—each moving the music towards theabstract—towards the inevitable hum that vibrates everywhere, ineverything. Halloween might be getting under my skin, but the middlehalf of this album feels creepy, ringing, dancing, and rustling insubtle variations and reproducing the anxiety that something might beright behind me or just around the corner, watching and waiting forjust the right moment to attack. Of course this moment never comes,Aranos only draws the anxiety through the album and never provides anymoment where relaxation might seem like a good idea.

A huge plus, asalways, is Aranos' packaging: this time the album comes in a five-sidedpackage that unfolds to reveal the picture of man with his armsoutstretched, making a welcoming gesture. While the album isn'tdistressing or unwelcoming, it's certainly a strange trip, but one thatAranos is capable of soothing anyone into instead of thrusting theminto the middle of a strange record with no immediate appeals.

Aranos shows no signs of slowing down: this year alone he's released alive album, a 7" for Brainwashed Recordings, a live DVD, a full-lengthstudio recording (Bering Sea) and a live album (Throat Clearance).If Throat Clearance was Aranos' record for inner-space, And Soon Coffin Sings is the sound of that inner-world bleeding away and drenching everything in its viscera.

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31 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

There is an atmosphere of particularly chilly austerity on the debutalbum of Mi and L'au. It's not entirely unexpected from an albumproduced by Michael Gira, but it is somewhat unexpected afterlearning that Mi and L'au are friends of fellow Young God folkieDevendra Banhart, and that their album contains contributions fromAkron/Family and Julia Kent. Where Devendra's latest album Cripple Crowreveled in its own expensive, high-tech studio sheen, and containedsome of Banhart's most celebratory and rollicking group compositions, Mi and L'au sounds a lot closer to something that belongs on Young God records: quietly dramatic, somber chamber folk.

Young God

Mi and L'au is a male/female duo existing on the imaginary border oftwo musical phenomena. Mi is from Finland, and consequently the musicpicks up a bit of that Fonal Records Finnish underground psychedeliavibe, where compositions remain loose and kaleidescopic, organic butscattershot, with a frosty nip to remind you of the hostile tundra ofMi's homeland. L'au is from Paris, and an old friend of DevendraBanhart, who wrote his song "Gentle Soul" (from Oh Me Oh My...)for L'au, as a thanks for letting him crash at his place. Perhapsbecause of this connection, Mi and L'au also tune in to the current waveof American "freak folk," singing in English about things like falseteeth and worms, and incorporating an ever-so-subtle atmosphere ofAppalachian Americana. I'm making this album sound as if it is somesort of confused postmodern hybrid, but it's not really, and the musicand songs flow quite naturally, if always somewhat restrained.

It's this restraint that characterizes the music on this pair'sdebut album, always an emotion repressed, a sadness not quitearticulated. The press notes mention Nico, which is a good comparison.Not that Mi's soft, caressing voice really resembles Nico's chillymonotone, but both singers share an emotional nakedness that betrays aweighty, unspoken emotional history. Lyrics are simple throughout,often just simple observations of everyday life that take on a specialsignificance with repetition against the backdrop of Mi and L'au'sskeletal melodies and haunting compositional touches—a gorgeous swellof romantic strings here, a sprinkling of winter bells there, a lightlyplucked banjo, the rhythm of a foot stomping a wood floor.

The production is crystalline and spectral, and is perhaps the mostimpressive thing about the album, with Gira highlighting every creak,quaver and scrape, opening out the mix to reveal hidden undercurrentsof haunted psychedelia and shimmering drones. A track such as "Bums"feels like one sort of thing—a melodic vocal duet, gently pickedguitar and flute—until halfway through, when a rip in the gossamerfabric unleashes a seething undercurrent of swirling, ominousatmospherics that bounce off the dark forest canopy, creating fearfulshadows. At these moments, the duo is most reminiscent of early 90sBritish esoteric psych-folk, shades of Current 93 or Sol Invictus. Thenthere is a track such as "A Word In Your Belly," which achieves all ofthe melancholic, symphonic grandeur of Agaetis Bryjun-era Sigur Ros. (No, really! Listen to the samples below.) Mi and L'auis a lovely and haunting debut album, and another impressive additionto Young God's mostly unblemished track record of uncovering great newtalent.

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30 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

Eric Random is a crucial piece of history for fans of Cabaret Voltaire,23 Skidoo, and A Certain Ratio, and this 2xCD collection issued by LTMearlier this year provides an overview that is not only a greatintroduction but a generous selection of difficult to find material.
LTM

Eric Random started in the band The Tiller Boys, which includedBuzzcocks's Pete Shelley, who played at some of those legendary Factoryshowcases at the end of the 1970s. Their last date was sharing the billwith Cabaret Voltaire on that night captured as Live at the YMCAon October 27th (yeah, you missed my birthday again this year) in 1979.Following the split, Random (who was only 18 in 1979) began workingcloser with the Cabs, recording at their Western Works studio inSheffield with Stephen Mallinder at the desk, joining the Cabsfollowing the departure of Chris Watson in 1981 and appearing on 2x45 and The Pressure Company, and even playing a one-off show billed as A Certain Random Cabaret which included members of A Certain Ratio.

Random's music fits in appropriately between contemporary music of23 Skidoo and Cabaret Voltaire. Structured rhythms provide the backbonefor songs which often push the ten-minute mark, never straying from theestablished tempo, while a bass line frequently remains fairly constantthroughout each piece. On top are layers featuring tape manipulations,faint guitar, horns, melodica, and muted vocals, soaked in primitiveechoes and delays found primarily on early recordings from themightiest dubmasters.

Once again LTM's presentation is classy and respectful, including aninformative booklet to accompany the music. Disc one captures singlesand compilation tracks from 1980-1982 while disc two features the 1982album Earthbound Ghost Need (a Burroughs reference from Naked Lunch) in its entirety.

Random's inclusion of a cover of "Bolero" by Ravel at the end of the Earthbound Ghost Needalbum is hardly a surprise, as the structure of that song is almost ablueprint to the main ideas of most of Eric Random's music: songs arevery long and simply do not stray from their main theme. (It's aformula that shouldn't be unfamiliar to Cabaret Voltaire and Richard H.Kirk fans.) Songs like this work well in clubs and in other socialsettings but two discs of long cuts is a lot more to ask of a listeneras opposed to an extended 12" single here and there. The four songsfrom the That's What I Like About Me EP open the first disc andthe muddy footprints left by Stephen Mallinder and Western Works areall over it. (It's not a bad thing, honest.) The length of these foursongs is an album in nearly anybody's book, which makes it somewhatunbalanced when compared to the following six tracks, which averagearound 4 minutes each.

There is plenty more Eric Random yet to compile and reissue, asfollowing these recordings Random traveled to India to studynon-western musics, continued his friendship and alliance with CabaretVoltaire, playing various concerts with them (including a show withRichard H. Kirk as recently as 2000), releasing music on theirDoublevision imprint, and performing in other projects like The FreeAgents, and The Faction (Nico's backing band in the 1980s). CV fansshould especially be anxious to see the Mad As Mankind single released again but as this stuff was out around 1984, it simply wouldn't have quite fit in to the material collected on Subliminal 1980-1982. I'll wait patiently myself and take the time this material needs to settle in completely.

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28 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

Atbest, Noriko’s fifth album mixes pop and more experimental electronicsin a way that is sometimes interesting, mixing standard pop beats andinstruments with more unusual sounds. Unfortunately this form ofsongcraft is far from new and much of the time Noriko misses the markcompletely.

Room40

Blurred in my Mirror starts off very promisingly with“Niagara Hospital;” the electronic beat pushes the song as Noriko’sspoken vocals go in and out synch with the song. It works very well asNoriko’s childlike words jar with the more serious music. “Tabletfor Memory,” with its lazy rhythm and acoustic guitar sounds quite likePortishead, which, although entertaining it isn't something towrite home about. After these first two songs the album loses its steam very quickly.

Most of the other songs seem to gonowhere, all blurring into each other. It’s not that they are bad but they’re not that interesting, failing to hold myattention. Additionally, Noriko’s singing starts to grate on me after awhile. At times her voice is unorthodox and beautiful but there weremoments when I found her singing a little uncomfortable.

Blurred in my Mirrorworks best at the times when the songshave some structure, the moreexperimental tracks lacked the life of the more traditional songs onthe album. They were full of too many ingredients: too many loopsoverpowering the mix. Perhaps this could have worked much better withsomeone elseat the mixing desk. The downfall seems to be too many choices and notenough clarity: noises might sound great when practicing or playingaround but in the end don't actuallysuit any of the songs remarkably well. The strongest cuts were the onesthat used a morelimited palette of sounds which allowed more room in the mix toactually enjoy the music. Blurred in my Mirror could have been a good album were it not for the dud tracks and poor production work. As it stands it is a lacklustre and average album.

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27 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

Despite the current shift to strangely accessible indie-pop that hasbeen prevalent in recent years, Animal Collective’s records have neversuffered from the feeling that they’re trying to pull a cheap one ontheir fans. Rather, like the best pop music, their songs are organicand never forced.
Fat Cat

Their music seems beamedin from another world—at once mysterious and instantly recognizable.On Feels, their lackadaisicaltake on pop music is tightened up considerably. Whereas the melodiesand song structures on Sung Tongs seemed to meander with little to no idea as to where they wanted to go, the songson Feels, though still imbued with the group’s wide-eyed approach, aremuch tighter and more accomplished.

At the album’s most accessible,songs like “Grass” and “The Purple Bottle” seem to jump out of theirskins, pushed along by stomping drums, plinking piano and unhingedvocals. The meditative “Bees,” on the other hand, blossoms slowly,revealing its subtle pop hooks buried underneath what sounds like astrummed sitar. Animal Collective displays a strong sense of dynamicsthroughout the album but it really comes to the forefront on songs like“Banshee Beat,” a song that takes it’s time before launching into astomping beat and triumphant chorus.

While other groups attempt to cramas many pop hooks into as short a song as possible, Animal Collectiveare content to let songs ebb and flow on their own. This is thestrength of Feels: it is an unhurried collection of joyful songs thatnever panders or sells the listener short.

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25 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

Following a promising 12", The Drift return with a sextet of hazy suites on their phenomenal full-length Noumena. It's unclear whether the bandisconjuring Kantian philosophy with the title; but the songs here are not simply things in themselves, never to be realized or experienced. Rather,the songs are much larger and enveloping, asking to be engaged and experienced.

TemporaryResidence

The Drift is a collaboration between literate members of Tarentel and Halifax Pier and within the hybrid,the sonic imprint of both bands is detectable. The album begins in uncertainty, though,with the Eno-inspired (at least titularly) and embryonic "Gardening, Not Architecture." Precisely four and a half minutes of detuned strings tuningeventually yields to actual song when guitar, percussion, horn, and bass enter in grandiosely, like royalty entering the ballroom after a train ofserfs and jesters. The initial "tuning" part will be hard to listen to for some, especially contrasted against the placid and well-rounded rest of the album. The sound in these first 4.5 minutes is sharp, angular, andcreates the disturbing image of a quartet of schizophrenic and deranged Itzhak Pearlmans preparing some symphonic assault in a very small concerthall, or perhaps (more abstractly) a cloud of vicious insects.

This chaotic theme is actually reprised towards the end, creating amere 4-minute interval of ambling clarity between the bookends ofdissonance."Invisible Cities" is an even more fragmented journey which starts outwithan inviting upright bass line. The bass punctuates the song perfectlywhile the embrace of the tempo is inescapable for the song's thirteenminutes of fracture. It's haunting as much as its Calvinoreference lurks between the notes. "Transatlantic," the focalpoint of the album, lopes along casually for the first seven minutes:electronics wisp around; a cello sound undercuts the haze; eventuallythe bass lays down the thematic progression and the song floatsfrom there. Unexpectedly, the tempo accelerates and the instrumentscrescendo into an altogether new mood. Instead of narcotic, the songbecomes manic and jumpy, spurred on by the instigations of theflugelhorn.

I first listened to Noumena on an island in Maine as the fog was rolling in from the ocean in the late afternoon. It was an incredibly soothing experience and I would recommend it for any introduction to The Drift. But even without the island and the fog and the fir trees, I don't doubt that you will have the same reaction after listening to the dulcet and gentle noise of "Fractured Then Gathered (Reprise)," the album's conclusion:to circle back to the beginning, ready to suffer the vicious insects all over again, just to experience the album once more.

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25 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

Khanate do doom like no one else. While there isn’t a huge progression from what they were doing on their last album, Capture & Release pushes their existing formula (for lack of a better term) further than before.

Hyrda Head

Khanate are about mood. The slower than slow pace and open songstructure makes the music disorientating and menacing. Khanate are sucha commanding force and O’Malley’s contribution is far from being thebackbone of their sound. That accolade goes to Alan Dubin’s vocals. Hisvoice is unique among metal vocalists in that it sounds real, nottheatrical or forced. Dubin sings about something more terrifying thanall the devils in hell: his own demons. On “Release” his mantra of“It’s cold when I touch you” and “It’s cold when I’m near you” hits mein a way that few words can.

Capture & Release sounds like an exorcism, notin a plastic Hollywood way but every musician sounds like he’s playingto stave off an eternity of pain: James Plotkin’s bass pretty muchechoes O’Malley’s guitar but his use of synth cuts through the mire andsounds in an otherworldly way and Tim Wyskida’s drums sound like rapping on thechamber door.

This two track album frightens me. Khanate have orchestrated a thoroughly disturbing record by making exceptional use of pauses and silences. At one point the drums sound like they’re building up to something mammoth but stop and after a brief pause Dubin whispers from somewhere over your shoulder, it's shivering to say the least. While I don’t know if I could listen to this album every day, I think that Capture & Release is a powerful record from one of the best metal bands around.

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25 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

Two Brians, one drum kit, one busted contact mic, one bass, and a wholelot of amplified wattage—with these five components Lightning Bolthave managed to carve out a sizeable niche for themselves in theAmerican noise rock scene. And while it would seem that the result ofthat equation would grow tiresome after awhile, just the opposite istrue.

Load

On Hypermagic Mountain, the Providence duo dive enthusiastically intonoisy and loud as hell passages of transcendental sludge. Some may rolltheir eyes, but goddamn it if the Bolt don’t know how to make somethingso simple into something so bracing. The word “violent” gets bandiedabout quite a bit when talking about Lighting Bolt, something I’venever understood. Sure, their obnoxiously loud mixture of battereddrums, warped vocals, and unstoppable bass is imposing, evenintimidating, but whereas other groups would have manipulated thesecomponents into a frightening package, Lightning Bolt’s enthusiasm andyouthful sense of bewilderment is betrayed from the get-go, from thecandy-colored cover to the absurdist song titles.

Opener “2 Morro MorroLand” sounds like bassist Brian Gibson just learned the intro to VanHalen’s “Eruption” and the group batters and twists the song until itruns out of breath. The riff makes a second appearance on “BizzaroZarro Land,” where the band sounds like two metal soloists facing offin a fight to the death. Elsewhere, the bands blend of bass and drumpyrotechnics gels seamlessly on the bracing pyschedelia of “DeadCowboy,” a song that finds the drummer Brian Chippendale taking aim atthe cowboy president before making a beeline for space.

While LightningBolt hardly peddle in what many would consider accessible, HypermagicMountain finds the band offering their most approachable set of songsto date. Hell, Gibson even plays what some would consider a prettynormal (albeit distorted beyond all recognition) bass pattern on thepropulsive “Captain Caveman.” In the past, I’ve often describedLightning Bolt as a pissed off fifty foot robot, but when I think aboutit now, a big kid who just plays a bit too rough seems far moreappropriate. I doubt Lightning Bolt are trying break into a biggeraudience, but Hypermagic Mountain certainly makes a case for theopposite. Like the band's intensely communal live shows (hey, who’ssweating on me now?), Hypermagic Mountain will leave you battered,bruised and desperate for more.

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24 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

What’s most striking about Fires in Distant Buildingsis the interplay between the album’s themes and its sound on thesurface. The melodies are pretty and the vocals are light and airyand full of harmonies that would make a pop producer proud. The lyrics,on the other hand, cut any pleasant warm fuzzies with a sharp, serratedknife and then hide the body parts under the house.

Warp

I listened to this record with a co-worker who is mostlyinto Simon and Garfunkel and that sort of thing and to her, theoverwhelmingly macabre and morose lyrics seemed funny and completelyout of place. I have to admit that I’m not sure if they are meant to befunny or not, but they are certainly hard to take seriously with suchpeppy and melodic accompaniment.

Gravenhurst make some of the most well-crafted, guitar-pop musicI've heard all year. It's easy to imagine Gravenhurst making thestadium festival rounds and playing to huge audiences of emotionallyfragile but picky kids, if it weren't for the lyrics. In fact thelyrics are what turn this well-made rock record into a somethingdecidedly more dubious.

Without paying muchattention to the words, the album’s second track is an almostdelightful stroll through the park. It’s only once the brain hasprocessed the lines “To understand the killer/I must become the killer”and “Now I’ve tasted hatred I want more” that Gravenhurst’s true naturebecomes clear.

While the album loses me towards theend, the first few tracks are pure subversive pop bliss. The record isfilled with vocal hooks that snare the conscious mind while rippingapart the subconscious. It’s still a weird record for Warp to beputting out, but its certainly one worth tracking down if just to beable to put some of these songs on at a party and make people say “didhe really just say something about ‘bodies floating in the river?’

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22 October 2005

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Albums and Singles

Ex-Jessamine member and Sunn 0))) contributor Dawn Smithson seems happily married to the autumnal nuance of desolation. Despite the title, Smithson's writing is dangerous, capable of unfolding and making the most resolute optimist feel wholly crazed and alone.

Kranky

Some albums can't help but exude loneliness, like they were forged in a model of Jandek's house located somewhere in remotest Nebraska. Joining Smithson is Rex Ritter of Fontanelle and Jessamine fame, Brian Foote of Nudge, David Farrell, and Jussi Brightmore. The majority of each song is encompassed in Smithson's elegant voice and her spirited guitar playing. While each song has a slow pace, her guitar work can sometimes be jumpy and intricate, teasing different rhythms out of the strings with no sign of repetition or design. Now and then a shimmering guitar will appear above hers, electric and ringing with despair in its voice.

I can imagine watching leaves falling over a valley deep in the mountains, lamentation for things that have passed pop up here and there, and ultimately there's no choice but to drive back home and face all the consequences of the past year. There's a quality to her lyrics that make me think of love letters found too late or of correspondence that details how utterly typical life has been lately. The music, however, is far from typical. Its quiet, pulsing rhythm feels a thousand times removed from the more insane guitar work that seems so popular, but it doesn't reference any distinct style that I can pin down and utilize successfully.

Just as Smithson sounds as though she's about to lapse into a Low-esque meditation on how the guitar is to be played, she shifts gears and allows more orchestration into her work, patterning her lyrics around the descending persistence of the album's somehow dire mood. Ever so slightly, like on "A New Day," hope comes shaking out of the background, capitalized by the accelerated pace of the music. Before that hope can really stand out, Smithson sinks it underneath an instrumental passage, leaving no words to place the music and it's dirge-like qualities.

Open the windows and soon the room will smell like the album sounds, the wind coming through the house will feel suspiciously still, and reminiscing will soon become impossible to avoid. To be honest, some of Smithson's lyrics are positive, completely betraying the mood the instruments establish. The cutting power of this record, however, isn't ruined by the contradiction, just strengthened by it. There's an ambivalence to Smithson's music that stands out and supports the feeling that it must've been created by tapping into someone's blood and sucking all the stories out of it. Simultaneously, it's a relaxing, soothing listen and no amount of emotional weight can keep it on the shelf.

There's always a desire to put on the record and simply follow along, pretending as though she is talking directly to me and laying out the past, for better or for worse.

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