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MCIAA are always generous with the music's technical elements on their liners, if only they'd go a little deeper with content for the head as well. This latest MCIAA release might be a sort of flipside to their Cosmic Light Of A New Millennium album, also on Important, this time exploring dark instead of light. If that is the record's aim, then it falls slightly short as Roberto Opalio's vocals are too beautiful for the black of nothingness.
The opening crackles of "Part One" seem to bridge the gap between light and shade, splinters of color lighting up the song's cold background. A possibly-human / possibly-horn refrain reacts with against analogue chimes to fill out this soundscape further. Roberto’s dilating dual vocals have slowly become a glorious trademark of the brothers' MCIAA sound, one of the great wordless vocal styles around.
The music on both of these lengthy pieces works well in expanding to take in smashed electrics, as well as sections of carefully interwoven analogue material. The percussion is loose and mostly formless, digital squelches of rain soaked drum beating peppering the middle ground like close-ups of exploding raindrops. The sounds here don't exactly come under the category of the generic dark genre though; they sound lost rather than sinister, too busy to be representative of a void. Rising and falling within the wide lens mix are elements that smear into each other like a hurried and blurred precipitation of colors and emotions. This great smear orbits itself, its elements too numerous to hold onto before slowing to a silent halt.
The pace of "Part Two" also begins slowly, taking its time to sink into reality. This strung-out and shaky elongated Jandek-style guitar descent slides into a thick slow motion fall. This builds into a hovering murmur of barbed acoustic guitar loops and snatches of vocal moan, a build that hovers between angelic menace and madness.
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To dismiss Laibach's work as ersatz, corny, fascist, or communist is the easy way out. The group has always let conceptual content dictate formal content. For over the quarter century of the group's existence, their work has been one over-arcing concept: control. Laibach's oeuvre is an exploration of how states, religions, and corporations manipulate our behavior.Explorations of such content is painfully exposed via utilization of the very forms used by the aforementioned matrixes of power. Many listeners find this mirror off-putting to say the least. The revelation of the social constructs which constitute the scaffolding of their ‘heart and soul’ is a little too close to unconscious base camp. For others, this mimicking of the formal trappings of control is perceived as subversive, transgressive, and ultimately liberating. Perhaps we've been duped. Seemingly, Laibach have been trying to make the intellectual content of their work more explicit on their last few albums. In their tour documentary, Divided States of America, they announce that though they prefer to make no moral judgments, the recent actions of the United States government force them to expound a position.
Their intention with Volk could not be more clear. Volk is people. The cover is a paint-by-number watercolor of sheep. (Connect the dots,...) Each track is a radical reinterpretation of a national anthem of various countries spanning the globe, including the Vatican, and NSK (Laibach's self-created microstate). Laibach's delicious ambiguity is here in heaps. As dismissive as the cover art is in regard to the proletariat, all the songs are heartfelt in their defense of the dignity and value of the citizens of their respective nations.
Specific tracks are anything goes goulash of ethno-muzak, techno, folk songs and church choirs. Utterly tasteless sound is mixed with the aurally sacred. Song structures are totally asymmetrical: it's never predictable if a boys choir will suddenly join in or the piece will abruptly end. Splattered throughout the album are washes and ruptures of electronic textures and noise, even recalling those bubbling squelches found on Coil’s Musick to Play in the Dark series. It is hard to conceive of two more diametrically opposed aesthetic figureheads than Laibach and Coil. If the term "postmodernism" signifies anything, that anything defines the cross-cultural currents and conflicting formal paradigms that weave to create Volk. Indeed, the asymmetry of individual tracks, coupled with the ubiquity of sonic elements spread throughout the album, renders an allover effect making Volk unified tapestry.
Some tracks lay their emphasis on folks songs ("Italia"), others the floor-stomping techno ("Espana") that Laibach seem to finally have perfected on their previous album WAT. "Vaticanae" is pure medieval beatitude. A past / future split is present in the lyrical content. Most of the tracks fit into two categories: those criticizing the past actions and policies of the nations in question ("Anglia," "Espana"); or those sympathizing with citizens and encouraging them towards more constructive future ("Rossiya," "Zhonghua"). Laibach are definitely more sympathetic to communist or post-communist nations. In "Slovania," they make it explicit: "for all communists / out of the feudal darkness / away from the nameless ones / we stand alone in history / facing East in sacrifice." This is not to say they've went and gone polemical on us. "Francia" addresses current social tensions within the country, but whether Laibach are attempting to inspire nationalists, Muslims, Basques or all three remains blissfully murky. Best of all is "Yisra’el" which skirts painfully close to Zionism, and therefore gives hemorrhoids to the minority faction of racist Laibach fans. Most telling is the digital / analog, scratchy LP / laptop processed neutered retake of Laibach’s own NSK anthem.
Volk is one of Laibach's most concise statements of how matrixes of power manipulate the populace, and how perhaps by becoming aware thereof, said populace can have more of a voice in controlling their own future. It is also one their most musically complex and rewarding albums. My own sociological constructions lend myself to their cause. A leaning towards socialism and a family tradition of coalmining primed me for Laibach’s vision. My favorite record of 2007 so far, and I know why I feel that way, I think.
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Released in 1973, this is the first CD version of this psychedelic pop album. Much of the inventive melodies, delicate harmonies, and breezy guitars are rooted in the '60s Western tradition but contain enough twists on the genre to give the tunes a subtly unique flavor. While not terribly groundbreaking, this album does hold the distinction of being the first available psychedelic album from Indonesia.
Even though the group plays electric guitars, many of their songs conjure peaceful bucolic scenes rather than smoky, drug-fueled sessions, yet that certainly doesn't make them any less pleasing. They turn the volume up on several tracks, like "Si Ompong," "Minggu Pagi," or "Terimalah Cintaku," but it's generally the other songs that carry more of the band’s personality. “Masa Depanmu” has an oddly appealing drone over the top of the melody, while the organ and flute punctuated by the bass on "Kr. Bunga Nusa Indah" brings their sound closer to home. There's only one song in English, but, if anything, not understanding the lyrics makes the album more enjoyable. This is especially the case since the lyrics to "Will Never Die" are fairly typical, if good-intentioned, free love fare that seems dated by today’s standards.
The most frustrating part of this disc is that there are no liner notes to provide any biographical information or historical context for this group. The insert includes a before and after demonstration of the cover restoration, which is interesting enough but trivial considering what's left out. For a hallowed lost recording, the details are surprisingly lacking. Regardless, the music holds up on its own, no matter the context. Many of these tracks grew on me pretty quickly. They’re well-crafted songs, polished but not overly so, with enough hooks and memorable bits to keep me coming back for more.
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Being bummed-the-fuck-out for nearly 30 years can't be good for someone's health, but Jandek still continues to haunt the release schedules regardless. It won't be a surprise to anyone even vaguely familiar with Jandek's recordings to know that this latest solo effort isn't going to be anything too unanticipated.
This is another long bleak night of a charred soul, much more so than any of his live releases, but no real shock to anyone familiar with his bass / vocal modus operandi. At the end of the day it's a Jandek album, it does what it says on the side of jewel case, and we can’t really expect much else. This is down a darker path than his usual guitar-based solo albums, and even tops his recent bass/vocal efforts for wretchedness. The bass work on 2004's Shadow of Leaves seemed to be a lot looser in retrospect, the strings hanging just a little too much, here they're almost noose tight. The methodology of his bass playing is remarkably similar to his guitar work. Fingers slide up and down the strings drifting between faraway mechanical strumming and choosing runs of notes seemingly with great purpose. The instrument is the perfect accompaniment for the morose and croaky wandering scales delivery he’s chosen for The Ruins of Adventure.
There's an amazing similarity to much of the bass sound here to the bass on a 1981 Cure B-side called "Descent." I'm sure this won't trouble the majority of listeners, but it nags at me throughout the whole black affair. There's hardly a moment on this LP that doesn't feel like its heading towards that song's falling melody line. For those not still lost in the wooly grip of early commercial goth-pop, the low slung undulating murk of these strummed frequencies will probably find the air unremittingly bleak. Towards the end of "Completely Yours" he plays it a little more violently, forcing the strings to near breaking point. It's this bass playing that makes this Jandek release worthy of picking out from the steady inundation of slippery Corwood product. As for the peculiar album title, apart from being a Dungeon & Dragons module, it seems to be just another summing up of Jandek's regret at having even bothered trying to get involved with other humans in the first place.
Lyrically it's no giant leap for mankind, but still it works. It's only on the opening "The Park" where it feels like he's riding the steed of a good idea into the abattoir at full pelt. This slightly Greta Garbo seasoned piece sees Jandek planning to build a park where nobody else is even allowed to visit, not even on a day-pass; now that’s just plain mean. The rest of the lyrics, as expected, are highly intense and personal declarations of rejection, self-disgust and love, the latter sounding more like threats with his delivery here. When he claims 'I'll be with you at night and forever long,' I feel like checking the locks on the windows. His vocal on-the-verge-of-collapse drawl is like being in a room lit with a single black light bulb, cracks of light forcing their way through the still viscous tar-like blackout paint of the music. Any expected trickledown of evolution from his playing as part of an improvising group isn't evident here. He's continuing down his singular route, seemingly unaware of the how close he can sometimes to slipping into the ditch of cliché.
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This taster is enough to whet my appetite for a full album's worth of music; it is frustrating to be constantly restarting this album in order to satisfy my need for more. However, the music here is enchanting and far more organic than the EP's title would suggest.
While some of the miniatures (and at 20 seconds, some of them are microscopic!) suit the short time scale, I felt that many of the pieces could have gone on for much longer. The opener "Tracking" is one such piece, it is just getting started when it finishes. When Lippok does let the piece go for a conventional amount of time the result is definitely a lot more pleasing. "Unexpected Behavior, No. 7"and "Pick and Place" are two charming pieces, it would have been great to hear a lot more like them.
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Minimalism of this sort makes for a difficult proposition on the part of the composer. It takes an extremely talented artist to shape quiet sound into something that compels the listener to pay attention despite its inherent subtlety.Percussionist Günter Müller takes the raw sounds of bowed cymbals and processes the hell out of them into a shimmering composition of tones. Reframed consists of five pieces of varying lengths and dynamics that focus only on the pure tones achieved from digitally processing the sound of cymbals. "Reframed 1" gives a fitting introduction to the album as a whole: calm, mellow tones circling around with an ever so slight inkling of the cinematic sinister in the distance alongside a barely audible clicking rhythm buried deep in the mix. "Reframed 2" is the disc's centerpiece: a 22 minute work that begins very distant and subtle for around the first five minutes before a distant low end rumble begins to slide in, mimicking the sound of machinery idling somewhere in the distance. The track's length proves to be its Achilles' heel, because it doesn't quite give enough variation over its massive length. It was simply too easy to let it fade into the background while listening, which is a precarious pitfall for this sort of work.
"Reframed 3" leans into the ambient electronic spectrum, focusing on soft tones that have the analog warmth of an old Mellotron. (It would fit right in on Selected Ambient Works Vol. 2.) "Reframed 4" is by far the most minimal of the music presented here, opening nearly as inaudible as the work Bernhard Günter, but eventually builds in volume, punctuated with cymbals digitally morphed into chimes. The final track is my personal favorite, a rhythmic clicking panned around the mix like digital insects as ring modulated tones and what can only be described as a feedback from an analog buzzsaw cut through.
Reframed makes for an extremely compelling listen in the normally esoteric minimalist genre.The work draws on Müller's strength at manipulating sound while still maintaing a clear sense structure and direction, sounding composed as opposed to simply a collection of processed samples. While the long "Reframed 2" does drag the album down with its limited sonic palette, it is more than balanced by the remaining diverse pieces.
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- Matthew Amundsen
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Graham Lewis revives his previous electronic group He Said, naming the new incarnation 27#11. Joined by Thomas Öberg and Markus Turnkey, the songs on this single are some of the catchiest, poppiest, and most danceable tunes Lewis has ever released. The first track is a cover of the Monks' "Oh, How to Do Now," which also appears on the Monks tribute CD Silver Monk Time as well as in the Monks documentary The Trans-Atlantic Feedback. They turn the fuzzy original into an energetic dance song, a brisk workout that would leave most dancers gasping for breath. On the flipside is "Show Me How," a similarly paced excursion into darker territory. With superb dynamics and pauses in all the right places, there's never a chance for my attention to wander. These songs certainly don't overstay their welcome, and their brevity only heightens their appeal. Make no mistake, this doesn't sound anything like Wire. Rather, it's a bold electronic venture that whets my appetite for a full-length hopefully later this year.
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ANTHOLOGY RECORDINGS ANNOUNCES NEW RELEASES
Baby Grandmothers, Bedemon, Wizz Jones, White Flame, Fresh Maggots, D.R.
Hooker, 1,000 Mexicans & Thai Beat A Go-Go Vol.1 OUT NOW
Also announces alliance with New York's OTHER MUSIC
Rare And Out-Of-Print Recordings Available Via Download
Anthology Recordings has announced eight new digital only releases, which will be available for download as of March 5th - Bedemon's "Child Of Darkness" (Doom legends and Pentagram side project circa 1973), Baby Grandmothers "s/t"(short lived and ultra rare Swedish Psych compiled by Dungen's Reine Fiske), Wizz Jones, "The Legendary Me" (1970 set from this Folk legend), White Flame (unreleased 1978 private pressing filled with stooges/Iggy weirdness), Fresh Maggots "...Hatched" (1971 'acid folk' cult classic), 1,000 Mexicans "Music While You Work" (Rare Post-Punk/New Wave circa 1983), Thai Beat A Go-Go Vol.1 (Incredible & ultra rare recordings from Thailand in the 60's) & D.R. Hooker (Psych private pressing from Connecticut).All releases can be accessed at www.anthologyrecordings.com and downloaded as a full album or as single tracks along with the album's original artwork.
Additionally, Anthology has announced that select titles will made available through Other Music's (New York's finest Indie retailer) digital store. Though still in the works, the store has plans of launching within the next month or so.
Future Releases will include the Lucifer Rising soundtrack (Score to Kenneth Anger's cult film by Bobby Beausoleil with the Freedom Orchestra), a collaboration with Finland's legendary Love Records, Night Sun (Acid Rock classic from Germany), Scientists (Australia's Dirgy Noise/Punk legends), a digital NWOBHM 7" series (including Witchfynde, Paralex, Bashful Alley, 100% Proof and others), a series of Hip Hop release (they're coming, we promise!!) and much more. The site will continuously add new music.
The label was founded in January 2006 by Keith Abrahamsson, who is also A&R for NYC based Indie label Kemado Records and has signed acts like The Sword, Dungen, Lansing-Dreiden and Danava (among others) and recently put together the label's Invaders compilation. With the demand for digital music mounting, Abrahamsson was struck by the lack of obscure titles available on high volume retailers - a wrong Anthology is determined to right by allowing fans of less-mainstream music the access they've been missing. Anthology will also serve and function as a regular reissue label, promoting and marketing each release.
Anthology Recordings is not intended to be the antidote to crate digging, but a resource for music fanatics who would otherwise not hear these rare titles. Making the music available digitally is an affordable option for both the label and the consumer.
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artist: MERZBOW
title: Merzbear
catalog #: IMPREC136
upc: 793447513621
release date: March 27, 2007
format: CD
Author, activist, painter and sound artist Masami Akita had been at the foreground of experimental music for over 25 years. Inspired by psycedelic rock, free jazz, early electronic composition as well the physical arts, especially Kurt Schwitters' Merzbau, Masami Akita has created a musical language all his own.
Merzbear is the sixth Merzbow release in his utterly essential Merz series for Important Records.
Merzbear pulses and pounds with distorted droning heavy guitar feedback, pulsing noise-blasts and swirling analog sounds of Akita's distinct EMS Sythi. Like most of Merzbow's recordings, Merzbear is a significant document of his ever evolving improvisational style. Slowly, he's been moving away from his pure laptop era and re-incorporating elements of his pre-laptop analog days w/ his homemade junk guitar, EMS Synthi & electronics. This hybrid sound brings the past into the present and pounds with total junk-collage Dada urgency as only Masami Akita can do it. Cover art by Jenny Akita.
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The debut album from the latest Bad Seeds off-shoot is a breath of fresh air compared to the recent stodgy and MOR output of Nick Cave. What the Bad Seeds did years ago with the blues, Grinderman have done with garage rock. Eleven songs of no bullshit and no fucking about with song structures or melodies have resulted in an exciting album. To paraphrase Cave, Grinderman is old farts making music for old farts (and Martyn P. Casey's "I love Status Quo" haircut certainly backs up this statement). Well if this is growing old, then I cannot wait for my bus pass to arrive!
The album screams off the starting line with the two singles, "Get It On" and "No Pussy Blues." Both songs are shambolicly heavy but with heavy doses of humour peppered throughout. Pulverising, overdriven bass and guitar drive both songs home with a ferocity that has long been absent from Cave’s music. It is unfair of me to label this as being Cave’s music though, it as much the work of the other musicians as it is his. This becomes obvious once the CD starts spinning. This is the sound of four men in a rehearsal room jamming out the stress of the week into a burst of pure escape from their normal musical roles. Gone are all the orchestrations of their day jobs with Cave and instead there is a vibrant sense of adventure.
It is easy but misleading to compare this album to early Bad Seeds or even The Birthday Party; Grinderman are a very different entity. Even at their most tongue in cheek, the Bad Seeds never made me grin as much as the songs featured here and the heaviness is far enough removed from The Birthday Party’s storming style to discount that comparison altogether. From the tacky cover art down to the lyrics and the playing, there is a playfulness here that makes this album instantly loveable. Cave’s twisted humour comes through strongest during “Go Tell the Women” and the aforementioned “No Pussy Blues.” His funny side is sometimes lost with the Bad Seeds but shines through here like a beacon.
It is not all giggles and smiles though, Grinderman have a serious side too. Dedicated to the recently late Alice Coltrane "Electric Alice" is a furiously sad piece of music. Warren Ellis' violin is looped and processed while the rest of the group sketch out the rest of the song over it. Later on, "When my Love Comes Down" is a slithering, hormonal groove that is one of the highlights of the album. The album finishes with "Love Bomb," which sounds like the afterbirth of The Velvet Underground's "Sister Ray." Although instead of searching for his mainline, Cave is "searching on the Internet."
I was afraid that this album would not have the depth that brings me back to other albums by all these musicians but I think my fears are unfounded. Apart from the occasionally awful bit of remedial guitar playing by Cave, I find little fault with Grinderman. Some of the songs I can see myself skipping unless I am in the mood but I honestly think that future emphasis should be on Grinderman and not the Bad Seeds. Comparing this with the recent live box released by the latter, there is no contest here between them. It is not often I immediately restart an album after it finishes but I cannot stop listening to Grinderman.
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Kevin Barnes becomes a glam-rock icon named Georgie Fruit on this record, or so he claims. Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? has been described by Barnes as a conceptual project for just this reason, but no matter how many cultural references he might make in his lyrics I don't keep coming back for them, nor do I find them particularly appealing. Of Montreal's latest record is enjoyable because it's catchy, not because there's anything special about Barnes' brand of peculiarity.
Polyvinyl
Satanic Panic in the Attic begins with "Disconnect the Dots," one hell of a catchy opening number: its appeal is immediate and the lyrics, delivered as strongly as they are, are almost impossible to forget. Barnes nearly outdoes himself on his newest album with "Suffer for Fashion," an opening song so strong that it is followed by a wimpy minute-long song that serves more as a transition into "Cato as a Pun" than anything else. Had these two songs sat next to each other, it might've been a pop overload almost too sweet for even the most ardent fans of sugary goodness to enjoy. Of Montreal can churn out memorable melodies with ease and it's almost no surprise that Hissing Fauna is filled from beginning to end with them. Despite that fact, it is somehow less satisfying than Satanic Panic in the Attic and I think it must have something to do with Barnes and this whole "conceptual record" business.
The band's bizarre stage presence and storied past seem to be catching up with them: it is as though they've decided their unique and almost always entertaining take on pop isn't enough to keep them afloat anymore and so they've decided they need something extra, something special. Everyone has heard stories about their live performances and it isn't difficult to surmise that Barnes is a pretty unique character, but it's as though those facts have stifled the song writing process, interrupted the band's natural creative efforts, and replaced them with bits of kitsch that simply aren't as enduring. The previously mentioned songs on this album are fantastic, up to par with the group's past efforts, and brimming over with catchy hooks, none of which rely on simplicity or dumbed-down performances. On the other hand songs like "Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse" and "A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger" sound flat, the verses existing only so that the chorus can come into play and get stuck in people's heads. They're fun to listen to, but become old very quickly, even with their brief durations. I get the feeling it must be because Barnes wanted everything on this album to fit together nice and tight, part of some greater idea that never becomes explicitly clear on the record. I don't care who Georgie Fruit is and I can't imagine why anyone else would: the thrust and groove of "The Past is a Grotesque Animal" is far more interesting and a bigger virtue to the record than any imaginary transformation that might be taking place throughout the record (if one takes some liberties with the lyrics).
Once all the flash and awe associated with the word "conceptual" seeps away from the record, Hissing Fauna... shows itself to be a flawed record with moments of brilliance. Beyond the previously mentioned tunes, "Labyrinthian Pomp" and "Faberge Falls for Shuggie" showcase Barnes' ability to play with genres and to twist them into a pop framework successfully. This tendency in his writing, to take influence from anywhere whatsoever and to use those influences well, is unique enough to make Of Montreal a great band. Keeping that in mind, all this extra fluff surrounding this record and Barnes' recent internet activity merely detracts from that fact. I will be happy when all the attention the band has been getting passes: perhaps then Of Montreal will return to their songs and give them all the attention they need. As it stands they're wasting it in unnecessary ways and their art is suffering for it.
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