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Fully divested of their signature drones, Growing explores rythmic loops and unnatural electronics. An acquaintance of mine has expressed his dismay that Growing turned away from their established sound, but I applaud their efforts. The result is easily their most engaging and unique album yet.Judging from their early work, it would be difficult to think of a more evocative name for this band. It perfectly described their deliberate, serene drones. The fullness of their sound suggested the slow creep of vegetation, or a warm primordial sea. But in the years that followed Soul of the Rainbow and the Harmony of Light, Growing gradually distanced themselves from drone-based composition. This has culminated in Vision Swim. The new Growing doesn't evoke organic processes at all, but rather the incessant clatter of the big city. Instead of static drones and washes of sound, this album is constructed with squawking beeps and lurching swells that remind me more of electric appliances and communications chatter than anything suggested by the name Growing.
The second track, appropriately named "Onanon," is built on synthetic bleeps and drilling blasts of noise over a ratcheting rhythm track. The song could have become monotonous and grating, but subtle rhythm changes keep it fresh. Halfway through, delayed harmonic swells enter and the mood softens. From this point, the song could have progressed into a murky drone, but the chaotic tones re-enter, and the song ends with jackhammer-like sweeps of noise panning across the speakers. "Morning Drive" lives up to its automotive themed title, a metaphor for driving in sound. The song utilizes the Doppler Effect cleverly. The sounds here echo and bend like the distant roar of engine noise and whipped up air heard at a race track. When guitar loops enter the mix, their notes bend and fade in and out just like the samples in the foreground. These dissolve into a warm cloud of reversed swells and purring electronics, suggesting a tranquil ending to the drive.
Growing throws in a dud on each their albums, and this one is not an exception. The track "Emseepee" consists of a rubbery synth-bass loop and electronic squeals that immediately made me think of cybernetic pigs. The sounds themselves are not unpleasant, but they begin to sound stale because of a lack of dynamics. Fortunately the track is short, and some listeners might appreciate it as an interlude between the longer pieces on the album. The closing track "Lightfoot" returns to a more solid drone, but it retains the album's dynamism and fits comfortably with the more spastic pieces it follows. Deeply reverbed static and whirring tones pan across the speaker, bending and expanding in gentle succession. The tone is luminous but unsteady, like bright city lights reflected off ocean waves. Tremolo effects cut into the sound, whipping up swells of static like the propeller of a speed-boat. As the effects become more prominent in the mix, the music disintigrates into short fragments that pop in and out abruptly, tearing the song apart altogether.
My first impression was that Vision Swim sounded drunk and the arrangements awkward, but successive listens reveal its unique structure. This is a dynamic album filled with bouncing rhythms and mercurial progressions. Except for "Lightfoot," there is nothing here that could be considered drone music at all. Instead of holding a tone for minutes at a time, Growing throw out sounds and then immediately pull them away, changing them each time they re-appear. Even the underlying loops mutate, growing louder then gently melting away into gentle atmospherics.
Joe Denardo and Kevin Doria have introduced a new level of detail and dynamism, and it animates this record, giving it a character that escapes genre classifications. It would have been easy for Growing set their loop pedals to play enough drones to last for ten records, and that might be enough to satisfy CD-R chasing isolationists, but I think they're trying for something more universal. They have managed to surprise me with each release, always a step away from my expectations. Growing's music has always been evocative of real objects and sensations. They have used sound as a representation of life in full instead of a narrow taste or subculture. Regardless of the genre that they work in, they continue to transcend categorization, which makes them more important than the sum of their components.
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Three years after the superb Ozeanische Gefühle a sequel arrives. I was so excited to have new music from Matt Waldron in my hand that I didn't bother to notice this fact printed on the back of the album's case; the relationship is evident nonetheless. The second in a proposed trilogy of recordings dedicated to the writing of Willhelm Reich, Cosmic Superimposition is another cinematic exploration of dynamic and organic relationships both sonic and metaphysical.
Errata in Excelsis
Approximately ten minutes into this single 44 minute piece I became aware of the fact that Waldron's music is best served by ambition. Ozeanische Gefühle was massive enough without the nudity of its inspiration, but with the knowledge of Reich's influence the record became monumental and exhibited a depth becoming less and less characteristic of modern, abstract music. It was based on an idea and that idea was fleshed out and developed with great care. Waldron has not backed down from his ambition and this sequel elaborates on the themes established by its predecessor.
An underlying philosophy prevails on both records as does a musical and visual aesthetic. Ozeanische Gefühle featured somewhat abstract visuals complimented by the presence of a vaguely hidden text, presumably from one of Reich's texts. That same text, more difficult to read this time around, is featured on the reverse side of Cosmic Superimposition. The organic nature of Ozeanische Gefühle has been retained for Cosmic Superimposition as well. The entirety of the album relies on the natural progression of one sound into the next; for the implications of Reich's text to be fully revealed in the medium of sound this is an absolutely necessary feature. One sound not influences how the next will sound, but it practically defines the role it will take in the procession of the sounds. The record does not, however, become an overly crowded mess of inter-related themes and impossibly labyrinthine connections. Instead, the music proceeds naturally and without noticeable interruption. The inclusion of grinding strings behind a wall of organ-like noise sounds as normal and acceptable as the pleasant ring of a bell. This is not to say that Waldron has simply struck a pleasant chord between disparate elements. Instead, he has found a red thread running through all of his samples and photographed that thread with perfect clarity. It just so happens that these samples radiate a peculiar and familiar light, a light that somehow recalls personal memories and secret thoughts. The combination of field recordings and presumably studio-based recordings lends Cosmic Superimposition an impressively diverse character one that is not unlike Ozeanische Gefühle.
It is not, however, a clone or a simple remix of that earlier album. As the reverse of Cosmic Superimposition states some of the same sources were utilized in the creation of this piece, but were used in radically different ways. The aforementioned field recordings served as the spine for Cosmic Superimposition, forcing the already existing material to twist and move in unusual ways. The imposition of these sounds upon the already existing music is so radical that the only obvious connection is the heavily cinematic nature of both the original and the mutant offspring. They sound as though they belong together, but to express why would be impossible—they are simply intuitively linked by the quality of their expression and the fluidity of their passing. As bird calls give way to the cosmic gurgle of synthesizers and manipulated drums the only evident connection between the albums and different points on both is in the witnessing of a transformation. Listening closely enough it is possible to hear how two disparate things might influence each other and how easy it is to forget that those connections are essential even if time makes them seemingly invisible.
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Had this been released before the interminably detained Throbbing Gristle album, Part Two - The Endless Not, it might have retained some of the potent momentum from that legendary quartet's unexpected and bizarrely protracted reunion. Yet after years of delay, the reconstituted Psychic TV's unremarkable return to disc seems barely worthy of a dismissive shrug.
As someone who first discovered and embraced this outrageously underestimated project a good decade ago, I found myself initially more drawn to Genesis P-Orridge's larger-than-life showmanship (shamanship?) than that of his peers' post-TG output. While I have since come to love Coil and Chris & Cosey for entirely different reasons, there was just something about Gen's knack for dissonant accessibility, whether in the cultish musings of Dreams Less Sweet or the alternative pop of Allegory and Self or the hyperdelic rave-o-lutionary Towards The Infinite Beat. In those more impressionable times, I ardently collected as much of his work as I could afford, and would have gladly followed this pied piper of the counterculture to the ends of the earth. After his tragic injury in the '90s, I assumed that the opportunity for any more Psychic TV material was a pipedream, until 2003 when I learned of a concert from his dormant band. Calling itself PTV3, this new bunch did not include Alexander Fergusson, Larry Thrasher, or Fred Giannelli, the latter apparently having shown up to witness the gig. With the now-pandrogynous Gen ruling over the stage with gender-defying confidence, s/he led the group through a rock-n-roll "Greatest Hits" revue that culminated with a breathtaking, riotous rendition of "Discipline". As a significant snowstorm surged outside, so did PTV3 indoors, leaving the audience's appetite well whetted for new original material from this new band of merry pranksters.
Unfortunately, the ultimate result over three years later, Hell Is Invisible...Heaven Is Her/e, simply wasn't worth the wait. Launching with a wacky sample riffing on Frankensteins and Communists, the funky opener "Higher & Higher" begins with such passion that what follows is even more of a letdown. With an experienced and adventurous frontperson like Gen, the last thing I anticipated was the kind of cheap, directionless over-the-hill psych-rock that litters this truly disheartening record. Songs like "Just Because," which unnecessarily resurrects and regurgitates Psychic TV's "I Like You," persist long after the riffs turn rancid, a poor attempt to recreate that trippy modus operandi that s/he has somehow misplaced. Gen's voice, sadly, has soured as well, now devoid of the simultaneously lilting and sneering affect that added another layer of intricacy and intrigue to his diverse catalog. Misguided though probably intentional, "Maximum Swing" might as well have been performed through a cancer-related throat hole and is easy to pass over.
As with the aforementioned "Just Because," the synthesized nursery rhyme flow of "I Don't Think So" rehashes Thee Majesty's "All Beauty Is Our Enemy" as well as the version from Gen's exquisite collaboration with Merzbow, leaving me to wonder if s/he has either run out of fresh ideas or chosen lazily to rest on his/her laurels. From a provocative artist who transgressively demands nothing short of a total gender, Hell Is Invisible...Heaven Is Her/e contradicts such ambitious self-reflection with regressive self-indulgence.
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Much of Rainbow is the next logical step after Boris' fantastic Pink album, there is the same mixture of heaviness and melody but with a greater emphasis on the latter. With Ghost's Michio Kurihara on board there is a greater exploration of what a guitar and an amp is musically capable of as opposed to physically capable of. This is easily one of the best albums Boris have put their name to, there is not one boring moment at any point during the album.
Drag City
Coming early on in the album, the title track features Wata on vocals and, while the Japanese language is lost on me, whatever she is singing about sounds lovely. Kurihara's solo is hot and piercing, totally at odds with the slinky rhythms of the song but working perfectly nonetheless. Kurihara complements the trio far better than I had hoped, without trying to doom up his playing but retaining his distinctive playing style throughout. His expressive and elaborate technique plays off Wata's equally impressive but radically different approach to the guitar.
Kurihara conjures up solo after solo, each one more magical than the last. Not letting him take all the limelight, Boris throw together some of the best songs of their career. The shortest piece on Rainbow, "My Rain," and the longest, "You Laughed like a Water Mark," sees Boris focus firmly on uplifting rhythms and gorgeous melodies: two things neither entity have a reputation for but pull off brilliantly. The collaboration bears its most succulent fruit towards the end of the album with "Sweet No.1." Here, on top of a blindingly simple riff, all four musicians let loose. The storm of guitars that has been brewing all album finally unleashes its powers. The fever of Kurihara's guitar playing towards the end of the song comes through so forcefully that it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
There is no doubt that Rainbow is a gem of an album, definitely a highlight of both Boris and Kurihara's back catalogues. It is a far cry from the doom of Boris' past and more in line with Ghost's more ballsy moments—some sort of strange middle ground between the more etherial Ghost and fuzzed out bliss of Boris. Thankfully Rainbow was not made into a stupid limited edition like so much of Boris' recent releases, as it's screaming to be a strong contender for album of the year.
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Always content to play by its own rules, M_nus takes a chance on a virtual unknown with this dizzying set of melodic yet dissonant beeps and beats. Although adherent to the prestigious imprint's ethos, the artist twists and deforms his unstable tracks in a manner that connotes a possible evolutionary direction for the label's sound, assuming listeners can even detect it.
Minimal techno can be extremely difficult to fully enjoy on headphones or even a home stereo, as like most dance music subgenres it is by-and-large produced with the dancefloor in mind. Its very appeal depends on the impact the track's sparse ingredients have within the space of a venue far more spacious than my apartment. Of course, one has to consider that most minimal techno is made on laptops or home desktop computers, with only headphones and studio monitors serving to guide in each track's creation and development. In a sense, then, hearing this music at home facilitates something best described as an empathetic listening experience. Considering that JPLS produced his debut album during that woozy, intimate time post-nightlife-yet-pre-dawn, the principle perhaps applies even more so.
While Twilite is hardly the first effort to be recorded exclusively and intentionally during the wee hours (Adrian Klumpes' spectacular Be Still being a relatively recent example), at least it feels and sounds true to the artist's self-imposed constraints. Although its tracks are numbered, the final order is disorderly and willfully contrary, with some noticeable gaps implying that this album does not fully document these sessions. "Twilite 1" delves cautiously in a subtly dubby style distinct from more overt producers like Basic Channel or Rod Modell, germinating springy spaced-out sprouts over the 4/4 framework. Although set in a mold of crisp percussive minimalism, "Twilite 8" brings forth thunderous stabs, engulfing every couple of bars and leaving a bassy film in their wake. The plink-plonk rhythms and melodies of "Twilite 4," indicative of fellow M_nus acts, swell and disintegrate of their own accord. "Twilite 6.2" builds to an unsettling final minute where the elements rebel against each other and, finally, against a beatless auditory canvas. Closer "Twilite 9" is similarly defiant, its sounds appearing and disappearing inopportunely, with impractical and inconvenient near-silences peppered in some places to further confound and challenge.
Fellow techno producer Skoozbot makes two fine appearances here, practically upstaging JPLS with his syrupy grooves. The first of these, titled "Green 01," features a warped, loopy bleep as its leitmotif, while the second, a version of "Twilite 1," bobs and weaves with gelatinous manipulated squiggles. JPLS and Skootbot haven't yet broken any new ground for minimal techno with Twilite, though the album's intricate shifts disrupt the standardized template just enough to stay captivating. Unquestionably, these are artists to watch.
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This collection of compositions shows how much Laporte is in love with the subtleties of sound and atmosphere. Shifts in timbre and slight changes in texture are the order of the day, the end result being five wonderful pieces that each explores the physical nature of sound. He avoids needlessly complicated ideas and instead lets the sounds that would normally go unnoticed come to the fore.
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Like Chris Watson and BJ Nilson's recent album Storm, "Électro-Prana" captures not only the sound of a storm but also, short of actually getting wet, the feeling of being caught out in it. It is hard not to shiver and look for cover when listening to Laporte's recordings of ice storms made from many recordings of the wind whistling through doors and windows. It is great fun to listen to it in bed, wrapping the covers tight even though the real weather outside far warmer. Laporte reproduces the atmosphere of the storm perfectly, it is possible to hear each whistle and whine distinctly.
By far the most interesting of the five compositions is "Dans le Ventre du Dragon." Here Laporte records music being played in an empty cargo ship. A massive natural reverb warps the instruments, the brass wind instruments sound like they are buzzing past like giant insects. It is a very simple concept but Laporte makes sure it sounds extraordinary with his clean recording and postproduction. It is easy to imagine a huge, rusting juggernaut with a few musicians skulking around the bottom, every sound they make swallowed up by the emptiness and the void around them.
A lot of electroacoustic composers get sidetracked by theory and utilising software that is interesting from a music technology point of view but not so interesting to listen to. Laporte steps away from all that malarkey and concentrates on capturing fascinating sounds. Each of the five pieces that make up Soundmatters are feasts for the ear; Laporte combines the right amount of intellectualism with buckets of beautiful noise. He does not seem afraid to move outside any comfort zone he might have; none of the compositions sound like each other as Laporte utilises different techniques to recording sound and vastly different sources of sound (from the traditionally musical to the mechanical to the natural).
Soundmatters is a rich listening experience and a joy to listen to. The attention to detail in terms of sonic nuances is amazing. All of the pieces are utterly engaging: there are so many intricacies and fine alterations in tone that it is impossible to take it all in. However when armed with a comfortable chair and a nice set of headphones, the challenge of taking it all in is a task well worth pursuing.
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work of one 19-year-old kid, Zach Condon, and done almost completely in his bedroom. Now, two years later, Condon has just completed six months of work on his follow up record, which evokes the forgotten
charms of older approaches to pop music.
The new record (yet to be titled) will be released on October 9th on Ba Da Bing!, and features a notable shift in sound from Gulag. With song titles like "Nantes" and "Cherbourg," the record is more a love
letter to French culture. Featuring thirteen tracks in all, this new album continues on the trajectory that began with the Lon Gisland EP, where the entire eight member band plays along on the recordings.
Besides the eight member orkestar and guests, Owen Pallett of Final Fantasy adds lush string arrangements to the songs, as well as guest vocals on a track entitled "Cliquot."
The album was recorded in two separate sessions - at the A Hawk and a Hacksaw practice space, and at Arcade Fire's ornate studios outside of Montreal. To date, Gulag Orkestar has sold over 100,000 copies
worldwide.
Beirut will be playing a limited number of North American shows this fall in theatrical venues. Colleen, whose new album Les Ondes Silencieuse is out this month on The Leaf Label, will open.
Tour dates:
September 23rd - Princeton, NJ - Terrace F Club
September 24th – New York, NY - Worldess Music Series @ Society for Ethical Culture
September 26th - New York, NY - Delacorte Theater
September 30th – Montreal, QU – La Salla Rosa
October 2nd - Toronto, ONT - Danforth Music Hall
October 4th – Chicago, IL Portage Theater
October 8th – San Francisco, CA - Herbst Theater
October 9th – San Francisco, CA - Herbst Theater
October 10th – Los Angeles, CA - Avalon
Tracklisting:
0. A Call To Arms
1. Nantes
2. A Sunday Smile
3. Guyamas Sonora
4. La Banlieu
5. Cliquot
6. The Penalty
7. Forks and Knives (La Fête)
8. In The Mausoleum
9. Un Dernier Verre (Pour la Route)
10. Cherbourg
11. St. Apollonia
12. The Flying Club Cup
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Release date: October 2007
Hera Ma Nono is the exhilarating sophomore effort from Kenyan and American cooperative Extra Golden. Kenyan benga music and American rock first met with a friendly handshake on the group’s 2006 debut, Ok-Oyot System, and are now fully integrated in a union that represents the vanguard of both styles and transcends the very notion of authenticity.
The group’s future was uncertain after the unfortunate loss of singer/guitarist/co-founder Otieno Jagwasi in 2005. However, an invitation to perform at the 2006 Chicago World Music Festival presented an intriguing opportunity for a US concert debut and a chance to return to the studio. The group called on Opiyo Bilongo to fill the void, a singer/guitarist who has been a dangerous presence on the Kenyan Benga scene for over a decade. Guitarist Ian Eagleson had helped Bilongo record two albums with his group Bilongo Golden Stars back in 2004, sessions that are highlighted on Bilongo’s debut U.S. release, What Do People Want? on Kanyo Records. Onyango Wuod Omari, whose singular drumming punctuated Ok-Oyot System, would also make the trip. For several months and through almost interminable hassles, Eagleson and guitarist Alex Minoff worked feverishly with Onyango Jagwasi (brother of the late Otieno) to make Extra Golden’s concert debut a reality. After countless international phone calls, a great deal of hustling, and some help from people in high places (the office of Illinois Senator Barack Obama helped the group clear their final visa hurdles), Opiyo Bilongo and Onyango Wuod Omari got their visas just a few hours before their scheduled departure. This would be the first journey outside of East Africa for both benga stars. Six weeks of memorable performances followed at both rock venues and private Kenyan functions, then Extra Golden retreated to an isolated location on Lake Wallenpaupack in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. As with Ok-Oyot System, the band recorded using their “Nyathi Otenga Flying Studio,” but the session for Hera Ma Nono couldn’t have been more different. Instead of three hours in an open-air Nairobi nightclub, the group had five days in a private house. They had access to a variety of guitar amplifiers and effects, and perhaps the biggest difference was the drumkit. The set that Onyango used on Ok-Oyot System was, to be kind, broken. In Pennsylvania, he had a fully-functional kit with a large assortment of tom-toms. These new amenities helped to take the band’s sound in a new direction. With the loss of Otieno Jagwasi, new voices have also contributed to Extra Golden’s new sound. Bilongo, revered in Kenya for his singing and composing, penned and sang lead on “Obama”, “I Miss You” and “Love Hijackers.” Onyango Wuod Omari, while still a sought-after session drummer in Nairobi, has moved into the role of lead vocalist, and can be heard on “Night Runners” and “Hera Ma Nono.” And while he didn’t make the trip this time, Onyango Jagwasi penned the lyrics and sang lead on album-opener “Jakolando,” a tribute to his brother that takes its title from a nickname shared by both. Hera Ma Nono also features some special guests. Austin-based Dennis Rathnaw played percussion on several tracks, and David Egan, a renowned songwriter from Lafayette, Lousiana, played the piano. Hera Ma Nono is Luo for “love in vain”, a theme that reverberates throughout the album. While on “I Miss You”, “Love Hijackers” and the title track, it refers to the love that exists between two people, this same theme applies in less traditional ways in other songs. “Jakolando” and “Brothers Gone Away” illustrate the cruelty of prematurely losing family members and friends. “Street Parade” praises the citizens and culture of New Orleans, who despite a passionate allegiance to their home are punished by its harsh ecology. In a more upbeat lyrical turn, “Obama” thanks the Senator and others who helped Extra Golden reunite to make this recording. Such songs of praise are benga custom, and in keeping with that custom, Obama’s wife and mother receive thanks too. Finally, “Night Runners” contemplates the jajuok, the creepy, nocturnal creatures of Luo folklore. Through it all, Hera Ma Nono shows that, while the defining element of Extra Golden may be its cross-cultural cooperation, styles like Rock and Benga are not quite as disparate as some may believe. Both arose from people cranking up electric guitars and singing melodic songs over propulsive rhythms in an attempt to entertain an audience. Though they may have to cross seas and petition governments just to play a few shows, the members of Extra Golden go about their work with a few simple goals in mind: to write songs that tell stories of life, love and loss; to praise people and places that are dear to their hearts; and, most of all, to create a sound that people of different backgrounds and generations can enjoy.
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Baars hails from the Netherlands, where soccer (Association Football) remains defined by the great 1974 and 1978 Dutch national soccer teams, often referred to as the best to never win the World Cup. Their philosophy of Total Football, remains a blueprint for high-level individual technique in all positions allowing for greater tactical flexibility and creative expression throughout the team. Soccer Committee's confidence in her technique, attention to detail, and sleek economy is clear; she uses one note where others would place ten. A single pluck is often left to resound into the air, simultaneously demanding attention, and creating space for her words to stand out.
In Chinese legend, it is thought that if a carp can leap a particular waterfall it will become a dragon. However, opening track "Carps" seems more a consideration of the double-meaning of the word, as in "carping." The fish are notorious bottom-feeders, considered pests, muddying water and disturbing vegetation; like people who indulge in constant petty quibbling. Other than that there seems no reason why: "When carps swim, it's time to leave." Either way, far too few songs mention fish, so it's good to have another. "Here I Go Again" contains a few more notes and thus seem a few iotas faster than much of sC, as does "Flock" where her voice fades to a frustratingly inaudible whisper. The playful "Carriage" might have been lifted from Just Another Diamond Day. Agonizing slowness returns on "True," which is brief and excellent. She does not rule the world, but Soccer Committee's adherence to her philosophy is admirable.
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One day earlier this year, No Age released five separate pieces of vinyl on five different labels. Thankfully, Weirdo Rippers collects some of the blissful and spiky highlights on one of my favorite records of 2007.
No Age are singing drummer Dean Spunt and guitarist Randy Randall. If they are just another band from LA then I am a bakewell tart. They have made an album to cherish. Starting with a couple of minutes of sirenic guitar-buzz and crashing waves, "Every Artist Needs A Tragedy" erupts into a cartoonish thrash and wail joyfully reminscent of Big In Japan's "Suicide A Go Go." This is obviously a track to start a gig and the jolt from hypnotic goosebump to full-on release makes me want to see this band and soon. "Boy Void" follows with a more metallic, clanging, rush of spunky power.
A slightly resigned feeling of nostalgia for 1977 crept over me, but No Age are not retreading a retro path. The looped feedback, stomping, and harmonic moans of "I Wanna Sleep" has a hypnotic quality oddly redolent of Matching Mole, but gravitating to an agitated crescendo that the 1973 radicals could only have attained by discovering amphetamines and/or skateboarding mid-song. "My Life's Alright Without You" seems to jumps back and forth between two songs like a distorted two-minute version of The Fiery Furnaces' entire Blueberry Boat album. Economy be praised.
In days gone by "Everybody's Down" might have been on thousands of jukeboxes. It is a simple burst of throbbing excitement, as lean as a cigarette. "Sunspots" follows, as sweet and trippy as the title suggests; lush waves seem propelled by an aching bass, if only it were five times as long. At this point, Weirdo Rippers goes beyond the contrast of alternating between styles and merges them. I hesitate to suggest that No Age have invented a new sub-genre; but if they haven't, they still might. The sublime "Loosen This Job" triumphs in blending garage aggression, stuttering static, and lush distortion, to create a sound that exceeds the sum of those parts. Sound can be a religious experience and here is an opportunity to worship, even as the line "Why are there so many records in my life" raises a smile. "Neck Escaper" starts with a looping sparkling guitar, punctuated by ticking, thudding drums, before crashing through the gears with a layer of charged fuzz and brilliant off-kilter vocals. Two minutes of listening I'll never regret.
From a crawling pace, eventually "Dead Plane" takes The Ramones to a more distorted, trancelike, and dumber place than ever before. On "Semi-Sorted" the duo use looped feedback, crunching guitars, cavernous thumps and cascading drumrolls to create an ecstatic garage/gamelan storm from the center of which Spunt calmly chants several lines, including "hope is just a word that you avoid". "Escarpement" reprises the sea that opened the album, but the waves and bleeps of sound suggest a craft going underwater on a new journey.
There is nothing in the DIY aesthetic which stipulates that energy must overwhelm all else. No Age take care to ensure that composition and melody are not sacrified. The balance between rawness and sophistication is just about perfect. The album art shows a building called The Smell, an all-ages grassroots space supporting underground art and music. Spunt and Randall have played and curated other shows there. Weirdo Rippers reminds me less of actual cigarette smoke, storage units, leaning against walls, ruining a favorite shirt, squinting to see through a bug-splattered windscreen, exhaustion, happiness, or what Don van Vliet has called "breaking up the catatonic state"; than more of paintings and photographs of those images. Again, the balance between the creation and destruction of hypnosis is adept. No Age are going to be offered a better studio, get new clothes, interviews, gushing reviews of their next record from critics who missed this one, offers of collaboration and all the rest. I hope this is not their only few minutes of mystery and raw brilliance.
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Durtro Jnana issues a remastered, repackaged edition of this hard-to-find album by Current 93, widely acknowledged as one of their finest. Released after the breakthrough apocalyptic folk masterpiece Thunder Perfect Mind, but before the maximalist phantasmagoria of The Inmost Light trilogy, Of Ruine strikes a perfect balance between melody and pscyhedelic experimentation, between lyrical clarity and impenetrable esoterica.
According to David Keenan, author of England's Hidden Reverse, this album is Current 93's best, and listening to it again all these years later, it's hard to disagree. Partly explaining the album's success is its efficient length and linear, narrative trajectory. The liner notes instruct the listener that the album "is to be regarded as one piece," with the track separations representing chapters or sections. Compared to the sprawling double-album that preceded it, Of Ruine is refreshing in its slimness, each track bleeding into the next in a very organic way. Although each track has its own unique melody and atmosphere, the compositional palette across the album remains consistent and minimal: Cashmore's fingerpicked guitar and bass, filled out with Stapleton's psychedelic drones. Only the occasional sprikling of bells or a brief percussive introduction interrupts the album's striking simplicity. Tibet's vocals are occasional joined by Phoebe Cheshire, who opens the album by reading a peculiar quote from British cat artist Louis Wain, a surreal and poetic description of a kitten playing with a ball.
For this album, Tibet and Cashmore drew heavily upon medieval music, directly adapting or drawing inspiration from a suite of liturgical, consort and funeral pieces by composers such as Anthony Holborne, William Lawes and Calum Ruadh. This gives the album a courtliness and melodic coherence that stands out in Current 93's considerable oevre. The production on the album is also first-rate, highlighting each resonant pluck of the guitars, with a canny use of echo and reverb that punctuates the text.
The text itself is one of David Tibet's best, combining the familiar use of mystical Christian metaphors with personal autobiography, which is expanded to encompass England's history, specifically the death of absolute monarchy. For all of its historical and poetic aspirations however, Tibet does not run aground and become the victim of his own complexity and intelligence. To the contrary, the lyrics of this album are probably second only to All the Pretty Little Horses in terms of clarity and relatability. The loose narrative arc relates a tale of existential wandering, a fall into the abyss of melancholy and guilt, and finally a reclamation of innocence and a chance for salvation. This is perhaps a well-worn narrative in the annals of Christian confession, from St. Augustine all the way to Tammy Faye Baker, but this familiarity accounts for its universal nature.
This is probably the last great Current 93 album that desperately needed a reissue: for years the World Serpent edition of the LP and CD have been quite scarce, trading hands for inflated prices of eBay and GEMM. This affordable digipack CD edition on Durtro Jnana is allegedly remastered, although aside from a bit of a volume increase, I could not detect much of a change from the old CD and LP editions in my collection. One big change is the album art, and unfortunately, this is a change very much for the worse. Although the cover is a bit more attractive, the lyrics and liner notes are a real hack job. Some typographical errors were corrected, but I almost couldn't tell, because the booklet is all but unreadable. Instead of the white-on-royal-blue layout of the old booklet, the background has been replaced by what looks to be handwritten text on tea-stained parchment, over which the lyrics are printed in white font. This renders the lyrics extraordinarily difficult to decipher, and for music that is so driven by the strength of text, this is a tragic mistake.
Still, it is wonderful to have this album finally back in print. Even with the artwork, newer fans of Current 93 have ample reason to rejoice. This album not only fills in the missing link between its better-known bookends, but it is also a striking masterpiece of subtlety and restrained beauty.
samples:
- II. Steven and I in the Field of Stars
- IV. "Moonlight," You Will Say
- X. The Great Bloody, Bruised and Silent Veil of the World
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