- Michael Patrick Brady
- Albums and Singles
Often, what is said only complicates matters, and what can be seen orshown carries more weight, especially when it is expressed in athoughtful way. Minor Shadowsplays like the accompaniment to a film or documentary, but instead ofthe music enhancing images and ideas that it is purposefully coupledwith, here they conjure those images themselves. Their long pieces arecomposed and arranged as if with a cinematographer's eye; each note orpluck positioned to lend the scene the proper depth, the most vividillumination or the right shading to reveal the finest details thatgives the image, whether visual or aural, the greatest sensual impact.The patient, lingering guitar strokes of "In 1983 He Loved to Fly"seize upon implications of the title's past tense verb. It creates afeeling of watching someone living out a memory, staring at a gray skyas the warmth of the guitar plucks hovers while the accompaniment fadesaway leaving it alone and precariously aloft, unsupported. The chordstroke fades, only to return just as intensely before repeating itsreminder again and again. 1 Mile North finds that subtlety andrestraint can be virtues and employs them throughout Minor Shadows,never lapsing into indulgent tedium, but finding a comfortable nook inwhich to base their songs before they move outward. Their progressionis not explosive, nor is it fiery. The tension and presence is feltlike heat from a radiator, filling the room in waves. "The Sick" beginswith a simple strum, different from the preceding songs in that it issomewhat more ragged, more percussive in its strike. Sampled drums hitscrop up intermittently as keyboards rise and fall around giving aneerie mood to the piece. Finally, the strum unfurls into a melody thatreleases the anxiety it initially presented, not by speeding up orsnarling out but simply elaborating on the plot. In this sense, asingle hushed word is worth a thousand shouted ones. This dichotomyappears almost literally on the next track, "Black Lines," whichfeatures a film sound clip of a father viciously berating and verballyabusing his son. In response, 1 Mile North plays along with theirpatient track as if assuming the point of view of the victim of theclip. Their music finds both the fear of the situation but in itssteady keyboard melody it also implies an almost triumphant resolve.The clip adds a wonderful tension to the track, and provides anexcellent foil for 1 Mile North to converse with. This dialog serves asan argument, the fury of the actor mingling with the music, and yet forall the histrionics he flings, he is unable to unsettle it. It is amoment of insight where Minor Shadows proves that quite a bit can be said or shown when care and consideration is taken to crafting an intricate scene.
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When you listen to Thighpaulsandra's music, your cup most certainly runneth over. In fact, Thighpaulsandra may be one of the most indulgent musicians working today. Tim Lewis' gooey concoctions of all of the most exaggerated elements of prog, krautrock, glam rock and homoeroticism is not some postmodern juxtaposition of styles meant to demonstrate his cleverness. Rather, it is the work of a man who fetishizes the music he loves to the point of overdose. This is not a bad thing. Indeed, it is a pleasure to hear music as un-selfconscious as Thighpaulsandra's, that is referential without resorting to parody or irony. His Some Head and Michel Publicity Window EPs both ingeniously exhibited Thighpaulsandra's talent for making his musical fetishes coherent and enticing to listeners. Thighpaulsandra's singular mastery of analog synthesizers has made him the ideal choice for collaborations with Julian Cope, Spiritualized and Coil. 2001's I, Thighpaulsandra, was an exhasting 2-CD set that displayed his skills at catalizing beautiful and unique long-form compositions, but also evidenced his prog-esque penchant for overblown, overlong self-indulgent wankery. I, Thighpaulsandra was thankfully saved from being relegated to the same pile as Yes' Tales From Topographic Oceans by its energetic spirit and the jarring eclecticism of each track. The new album definitely benefits from its relatively efficient length. Double Vulgar is a tighter, slimmer and sexier beast, much like the young naked men that adorn the album's artwork in various states of aesthetic slavery, death and decay. Thighpaulsandra is assisted by an assortment of terrific collaborators, including familiar names from the Coil family such as The Boy Anal, Martin Schellard, Cliff Stapleton, Ossian Brown and Jhon Balance. "The Bush Administration Project" combines the operatic voice of Thighpaulsandra's mum Dorothy Lewis backed by some very minimal piano, before majestic synthesizers explode into prominence, with all the magic and pomp of Phaedra-era Tangerine Dream. The second track "Slammer" takes a sharp left turn into a deeply rhythmic rock n' roll groove, with sexy vocals courtesy of Sion Orgon. Synthesizers are wielded for maximum psychedelic effect, sounding like a recontextualized version of bad-but-interesting 70's prog-rock like The Sensational Alex Harvey Band or Curved Air. "On the Horns of Magda Reuth" is an improvised jam that utilizes the strange and rare Russian ANS synthesizer, along with guitars and hurdy gurdy. It's a lengthy, psychedelic jam session, but it's much more Nurse With Wound than Grateful Dead, with its eerie atmosphere and sudden launches into pounding industrial oscillations. "The Circumcision of Christ" meanders around a bit in sampled shortwave radio transmissions, before turning into a wickedly brutal electro-rock song with soaring, mutated vocals. The title track is also the most brilliant—an unfolding drama that melds medievalism with Eno-ambience before transforming into a massive glam-metal-Kraut groove, with joyously barked vocals by the Welshman himself. The brief, twisted noise explosion of "He Tastes of the Sea" is followed quickly by the eroticized drones of "His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales Breaches Reality." This ritualized sex fantasy utilizes the beatiful vibratory Farfisa organ along with samples of some rather shockingly lewd pillow talk between Ossian Sex-Shop and another unidentified pervert. Double Vulgar is unmistakably the work of an artist who has the uncanny ability both to shamelessly wallow in his own predilections, and persuade the listener to go along for the ride.
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The various field recordings, found sounds, and narratives that composethis album somehow add up to a satisfying listen despite theirseemingly random order. The liner notes suggest listening to the CD inrandom order and also relate the fact that much of the material wasoriginally recorded on a cassette tape. There are some points wherethis is clear but for the most part the fact that this was originallyrecorded to cassette tape is unimportant. The sounds are a mishmash ofstrange tones, almost danceable beats, non-English narrations, andshort blurs of speech and machine sounds. Yuko Nexus6 captures many ofthe every day sounds that I find fascinating and runs them along not socommon sounds that might be discovered while manipulating stretches oftape or a turntable. Many of the tracks are under one minute in lengthand are simply short sound portraits. Other tracks are just over twominutes and a rare few run over five minutes long. The longer tracksare sound collages that run the gamut from exciting to boring and drawnout. However, they have moments spread out within themselves thatsomehow revive my interest in them despite the rather blandinterruptions. I often get the impression that I'm listening to a radiothat is being tuned to several different frequencies at irregularintervals and enjoy the disparity. There are elements of earlyelectronic composition on Journal De Tokyo. There's not an air of academia, but instead an air of adventure and curiousity that keeps me listening.
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In a time when folks often tend to expect small independent labels tospecialize in a particular sound, style or sub-sub-genre, GhostlyInternational is definitely an anomaly. When they debuted in 2000 withTadd Mullinix's Winking Makes A Facealbum, they were viewed as a new addition to the cluster of Americanlabels such as Schematic and Isophlux that were concentrating primarilyon Aphex- and Autechre-influenced IDM. However, with each subsequentGhostly record (not to mention their dancefloor-orientated sublabel,Spectral Sounds), the imprint has continued to blur the lines betweengenres, releasing everything from downtempo instrumental hip-hop tominimal techno to neo-synthpop and electro. This latter category hasbecome what many people know them for, thanks to the success of lastyear's great Disco Nouveau compilation that came out just intime to catch the tail end of all of that "electroclash" foolishness.Unlike that carefully planned and strictly curated collection, Idol Tryoutshas no theme or concept aside from being a traditional label sampler,featuring tracks from previous and upcoming releases alongside a fewexclusive bits. As you might expect, the result is a bit of a stylisticmish-mash, but since most of the tracks are pretty damn good, it feelsmore like a slightly schizophrenic but still cool mix-tape rather thanthe lazy promotional tool that these sort of projects often turn out tobe.
Things get started a little slowly with "Making it Pay" by Dabrye (oneof several pseudonyms used by Tadd Mullinix), a head-nodding hip-hoppiece that is pleasant but doesn't leave much of an impression. Alittle more meat can be found right afterwards in the stormingelectro-disco of Charles Manier's "At The Bottle". Midwest Product thencome in with a pair of chilled and cinematic downtempo tracks—one ofthem a spacey remix by Telefon Tel Aviv—that will put you back on thecouch with a smile and spliff (should you be so inclined). And so itgoes from there, whiplashing back and forth from the cold industro-funkof Kill Memory Crash, to the crisp minimal tech-house of Matthew Dearand Osborne, to the lush and melodic IDM of Outputmessage, to thecompletely unexpected but very cool psych-pop cover of Wire's "Map Ref.41° N 93° W" by Dykehouse. By the time the album comes full circle withthe set-closing Prefuse 73 "megamix" of Dabrye, the listener has notonly been taken on a tour though the world of Ghostly/Spectral, butthey've also been given a more general taste of the current state ofthings in the American indie electronic music scene. If the generalquality of the material on this disc is any indication, things ain'tlooking half bad.
- Charles Manier - At The Bottle
- Dykehouse - Map Ref. 41° N 93° W
- Outputmessage - Bernard's Song
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At the outset, this seems like a very strange matching of artists for an EP. Monster Movie craft more electropop for the shoegazer set while Dreamend concoct droned instrumental music with a very improvisational feel if not creation process. Together on the same EP, they sound worlds apart, with their only common element being drone; but considering the fact that this is the first Graveface Records wide release, it becomes apparent that this is more for them than either of the artists.
Graveface show impeccable detail with Preface, much as they have with any of the limited releases they've put out in the past. Cardboard packaging with detailed cover art and a collage or piece of artwork by one of the two bands as the CD sleeve are just two of the characteristics of this EP that show you what care Graveface takes with their product. As for the music inside, it's a mixed bag, and not just because of the two artists making two different types of music. Monster Movie is becoming one of those "it's almost perfect, but" bands. Their first track, "Beautiful Arctic Star," is a glorious keyboard-based piece. The melody is infectious, the lyrics and vocals complement it well, and it builds just right then fades away. Then the second song goes and mucks it all up for them. "Nobody Sees" is also keys-based, but the vocals are processed through a horrible echo effect, plus they're just off-pitch in enough areas to drive me up the wall. They need to make a leap forward, and soon, because this sound and its cracks are starting to wear. Dreamend's tracks, or "...Ellipsis..." which is split into three tracks, is gorgeous. Drone guitar and bass, solid drumming, and pretty guitar lines over the top push the composition to a very space rock conclusion. Fans of Mogwai would not be disappointed. This is a real triumph for Graveface, but now all I want to hear is more from Dreamend.
- Monster Movie - Beautiful Arctic Star
- Monster Movie - Nobody Sees
- Dreamend - Ellipsis
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I'mtired of all the bands that are obviously influenced by Spaceman 3and/or Joy Division. Sure, they get a lot of the sound right: long,sprawling instrumental passages; psychedelic bass and guitar lines;pained vocals that sound reminiscent of Ian Curtis. After all is saidand done, though, they add nothing new to the musical landscape, andtheir output is a pale parody of itself. Suntan are the latest new bandto be acclaimed as though they are a vital addition to the psychedelicrock sound, when in fact their music is incredibly derivative. It's thesame old thing: slow build with low volume synths or lightly-playedguitar; add more guitars and drums; throw in echoed or processed vocalsdelivered lazily; once you're out of things to say, turn up the volumeand rock out. On the first track, "L #249747," the meandering andrepititious nature of the melody is only slightly less annoying thanthe need to extend the track out to nearly eleven minutes. Everythinginteresting on this song happens between 1:00 and 4:30, so there's noneed for it to have a long introduction and an angry denouement. "Bagit Up" is slightly better, though the dueling vocal parts with separateand different effects, meant to sound like a split personality, Ithink, got annoying real quick. Then when it should end, and it seemslike it does, the music comes right back again, building from cricketsor whistles to a noise fest that churns for another two and a halfminutes. It's completely unnecessary, and adds nothing to the song. Thefinal song, "Soak Up the Rays," may not sound original, but it showsreal promise for this band. A solid melody, anguished but not gratingvocals, and it's the first that justifies its length. For once the bandseems in the pocket, playing together on something approaching beauty.Ihope their debut album explores the strengths of the last song ratherthan the missteps of the first two.
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Under the guise of Populous, 22 year-old Italian Andrea Mangiamanipulates sampled drum loops, keyboards sounds and spoken wordclippings to create a very relaxed setting that tends to motion towardsthe laptop genre. To avoid a sometimes sterile environment within theblue glow set, Mangia uses slower Hip Hop beats and subtle synth basslines to create laid back grooves on most of the disc's nine tracks,while still keeping the skitter and crackle elements prominent in themix. At times, the passive approach to synth and various moduleprogressions comes across as near-soundscapes within the compositions,set to head-nodding rhythms. The sprawling time and one note upshot on"Ent-The Dexo" lays the foundation for underplayed keyboard motifswhich weave about to form the bare necessities of melodic movement."Clijster (Blepharo Edit)" clicks along with eerie synth swells thatease in to familiar Reggae keyboard accents, drawing in the long tonesof a sampled horn and squelchy beats. The throwback to the 70'ssoundtrack groove of bright bass, Rhodes piano and loose drums on"Stretch Abuse + Snare" is so settled that several repetitions arewelcomed for the drawn out keyboard padding to give the impression ofsome momentum. Quipotends to be a disc where the beats and grooves are given a minimalmelodic interpretation so as not to take away from the comfortableatmosphere created by the gentle waves of keyboards and assortedelectronic elements.
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Mathis Mootz writes evil, destructive music that is fun in a devilishway. Under the guise of Panacea he has released some of the nastiest,heaviest, and most spectacularly dark recordings I've heard.Squaremeter has, on the other hand, been something of a detour: themusic is less rhythmic, more abstract, and not so much demented as itis creepy. The gap between these two monikers is beginning to close. War of Soundis an all-out melodic attack that churns out rhythmic pulses,middle-eastern flourishes, and an unrelenting air of doom. The entirealbum feels like a slow march through the desert. There are longstretches of beat-less music that are full of pulsing, Arabian-likesound. Once the tension has reached its boiling point, Mootz bringsdown his iron fist in subtle, measured movements. First comes thebouncing synthesizers moving in dramatic tonal shifts, then there's ahint of war-drums deep and full, and then all hell breaks loose. By thetime everything settles down there's already a counterstrike building.There is a continuity that runs through every track that supplies astrong thematic base. This allows for each song to build off theprevious one. Although nothing moves at a quick pace here, there is adensity to every second of sound that makes it feel powerful andcaustic. The vocal samples that run through it are a little annoying atfirst but with repeated listens they sink into and fit well with themusical themes. I think this album should come packaged with a viking'shelmet and a broadsword, though: Mootz's evil has sunk into my bones.
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Forthis project, John Tejada eschews his current aural trends and DJ workto collaborate with Takeshi Nishimoto, with the former on drums, guitarand bass and the latter on guitar and bass. Their music isjazz-influenced in time signatures and tones, and the electronics areminimal, there for effect and a little flavoring only. Tejada is anextremely capable drummer—he learned how to play as a child. Together,he and Nishimoto lay down bass grooves that snake and hypnotize underintertwining guitar lines that dance around each other playfully, liketwo people on a first date trying to find the perfect opportunity forthat first kiss. "Jet Stream" opens the record with some clicks andburbles, and for a moment you think "Here we go again." The guitarleads you astray for a few seconds, but it's when the drums hit thatyou realize this is not the same ball of wax. The courtship of theguitars seems to be the centerpiece of this collaboration, as they takecenter stage on every track. Most tracks have a medium tempo, with onlya few powering their way through the speakers, and that's just the wayit should be. There's no need for hurry here, as both artists let theingredients delicately percolate into whatever it wants. Highlightsinclude "Search for Sleep," "Long Division," and the more electronic"Make Sense and Loose," which has some clever edits and effects. Everything at Oncecouldn't be a more appropriate title, as on their debut LP I'm Not aGun pull out all the stops, and show that there's nowhere for them togo but up.
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The latest release from Norwegian supergroup Jaga Jazzist sees the much-anticipated follow up to last year's brilliant A Livingroom Hush with a slightly different approach. On The Stix,it would appear that more of the electronic elements on both theinstrumental and production sides have been employed, which in turncements the multi-layered, at times complex compositions. Opening withthe most interesting track I've heard in months, "Kitty Wu" blendsmelodic bass clarinet and vibraphone with dub bass lines, staccatoguitar and synth patches to drummer Martin Horntveth's programmed beatsand fusion-styled playing. "Another Day" is the perfect example of liveinstrument-augmented drum 'n bass with its plucked strings doubling thesyncopated rhythms for an interesting modal composition. The choppyAfro-Cuban groove interpretation of "Suomi Finland" is anchored byrolling vibraphone and warm bass sounds in which several differentmelodies are introduced on keyboard, flute and guitar throughoutvarious sections, eventually blending nicely into each other withoutbecoming a jumble. "Reminders" kicks off with busy, up-tempo drummingand half-time bass and vibes for subtle, muted trumpet to play off,which then grows into a full-sounding orchestration of horns and athick, multi-faceted rhythm section. The interestingly titled "I CouldHave Killed Him In The Sauna" moves from middle Eastern flavored pianoprogressions peppered with synth blips and scratchy beats to 70s progrock punches that are just this side of headbanging. Pretty, long-linedstrings, vibes, synth squelches and weaving, treated bass clarinet fillout the spaces and have one's jaw on the floor. Although the group'sname evokes the style of music in which instrumental soloists are theprime focus, such is not the case with Jaga Jazzist as they are amusical collective where the sum is greater than the individual parts.With such interesting compositions that marry up some creativeinstrumentation, several listens of The Stix are required to catch them all. -
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This special little nugget is a limited CD-R of rare archival material that was available at Steven Stapleton's recent appearance in Portland, Oregon to celebrate the release of his Beta-Lactam Ring LP. It's also available for a limited time from Beta-Lactam's website. The Musty Odor of Pierced Rectums contains thirteen tracks of never-before-released Nurse With Wound pieces, similar to 1989's odds-and-sods compilation A Sucked Orange. This release, although not unified by a single concept or containing a coherent flow between tracks, once again proves that Steven Stapleton's garbage is way better than 99% of the crap released by modern experimental musicians. There's a lot of different kinds of music here, most of it in the darker, more esoteric vein. Comparisons could be made to Nurse classics such as Large Ladies With Cake in the Oven and the harsher, more industrial noisescapes on early NWW records. Most of the tracks are typically absurd mixes of mutated sounds, bizarre samples, and dislocated audio dementia. Track two reminds me of Pink Floyd's "Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in A Cave and Grooving With a Pict." Stapleton seems to be experimenting with the "glitch" a little more these days. At random points, the sounds will unexpectedly stutter and drop out, leaving gaping holes or "wounds" in the composition. These thirteen untitled tracks make for a very engaging listen. Nobody is going to declare this to be Stapleton's masterpiece, but for Nurse completists, this CD-R is essential. And for the rest of those who are not obsessive Nurse With Wound collectors, what the hell is wrong with you people?
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