We have finally cleared out the backlog of great music and present some new episodes.
Episode 711 features music from The Jesus and Mary Chain, Zola Jesus, Duster, Sangre Nueva, Dialect, The Bug, Cleared, Mount Eerie, Mulatu Astatke & Hoodna Orchestra, Hayden Pedigo, Bistro Boy, and Ibukun Sunday.
Episode 712 has tunes by Mazza Vision, Waveskania, Black Pus, Sam Gendel, Benny Bock, and Hans Kjorstad, Katharina Grosse, Carina Khorkhordina, Tintin Patrone, Billy Roisz, and Stefan Schneider, His Name Is Alive, artificial memory trace, mclusky, Justin Walter, mastroKristo, Başak Günak, and William Basinski.
Episode 713 brings you sounds from Mouse On Mars, Leavs, Lawrence English, Mo Dotti, Wendy Eisenberg, Envy, Ben Lukas Boysen, Cindytalk, Mercury Rev, White Poppy, Anadol & Marie Klock, and Galaxie 500.
Skolavordustigur Street in Reykjavík photo by Jon (your Podcast DJ).
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For their fourth album, Michael Begg and Deryk Thomas continue the development they began on 2009’s Black Hill album; deeply nocturnal, mournful and staggeringly beautiful music which takes in everything from the slow decay of time to post-colonial regret. This is undoubtedly their most superbly made and personal album to date.
The album begins with a black, velvet envelope of treated piano. Melancholy but not maudlin, the music is powerfully nostalgic as Begg and Thomas try to get into the mind of a sleeping pharaoh in the British Museum who is longing for his lost resting place. Lulled into a relaxed, thoughtful repose, I nearly jumped out of my skin when the slow, steady percussion of "Fortress Longing" breaks through the music like that feeling of falling in your sleep breaks through a dream. There are shades of Bohren & Der Club of Gore’s experiments in mood in the slinky bass motif but Human Greed have become so utterly dreamlike that the comparison is only superficial.
Voices emerge through the deep, gorgeous webs of sound as men, women and children intone: "Where is my blanket of sand?" Each time, the poignancy of these thoughts comes through strong. Plucked from their tombs by European and American archaeologists, what was meant to be an eternal rest became an eternal sideshow in museums far from home. On a more immediate level, here are priceless pieces of history taken from the people whose history these ancients were part of. One such piece of history, a gold pendant of two bees made by the Minoans on display in Heraklion, Crete. The Minoans were one of the first to domesticate bees for honey and, in Egypt, bees were symbolic of the nation and the pharaoh. Capturing this complex mixture of feelings, Begg’s colleague from Fovea Hex, Laura Sheeran, orchestrates a sublime vocal interlude on "Weeping Bees of Heraklion" which has the same lilting buzz of what I imagine these sad Minoan bees to sound like.
The limited edition of Fortress Longing comes with a bonus disc containing Colin Potter’s reconstruction of the raw materials. Like Potter’s work with Fovea Hex’s recent album, he demonstrates an insightful and unexpected perspective on the music and creates "Deshret" which equals the work Begg and Thomas put into the "rea" album. Long and elaborate tones, just about recognisable from Begg and Thomas’ originals, make up the bulk of the piece before resolving into Julia Kent’s cello playing.
I cannot help but be taken aback by how carefully composed and charged Fortress Longing is. Begg and Thomas have definitely gone beyond their previous benchmarks to create one of the albums of the year. This is a deep, multifaceted recording that comes together far better and far stronger than even their best work before this (and I admire the first three albums a lot). It is not simply a soundtrack to the sense of loss of history to shelves and storage cupboards but also a reflection on our own time on earth and what will become of us after death. The final message of Fortress Longing is to make a mark now and let it make its way into the eternity you cannot achieve.
Recorded live on a boat in 2008, this CD documents the first performance of Comus in over 30 years. Evidently whatever pact they made to make First Utterance had a retirement clause in it as the band sounds remarkably potent here. Had this been an archive recording from their creative zenith, I would have been impressed but bearing in mind this is the first time they had taken a stage together in over 30 years, this is phenomenal.
Playing at the request of Opeth’s Mikael Åkerfeldt (a massive fan of Comus to the point of naming their fantastic 1998 album My Arms, Your Hearse after Comus lyrics), the group made their way out to a metal festival based on a cruise ship setting sail from Stockholm where they received a rapturous reception based on the sounds of this recording. This set was originally issued as a DVD a couple of years ago and while this CD covers the exact same material, it is nice to have this music in a format that is more user friendly (I am not one for sitting down with music DVDs very often).
Opening with a powerful version of "Song to Comus," it is difficultto be anything other than blown away by the primal, sexual force of the music. Roger Wootton’s voice sounds as demonic here as it did on First Utterance and he sounds like the feral forest entity Comus in human form. The Bacchanalian frenzy continues with "Diana" which sees Colin Pearson’s violin cutting through the music like the baying hounds through the undergrowth chasing the song’s namesake. As good as this is, the highlight of East of Sweden is undoubtedly "Drip Drip" (incidentally my favorite song from First Utterance). Violent, murderous and exquisitely played, this is the perfect example of why Comus were such an important and thrilling band. Importantly, it shows that they still have the potential to stir up the same feelings and excitement in listeners today.
While there are no new Comus songs on the album, they do include a cover of The Velvet Underground’s "Venus in Furs" at the end of their set. It does not have the same sheer power of the original but no VU cover has ever really managed to surpass the originals. Yet, it fits better with the material from First Utterance than Comus’ own second album. The CD finishes with the encore: another rendition of "Song to Comus," which riles the crowd up as it did at the beginning of the concert. It says an awful lot that an artist can play the same song twice and come out of it sounding like heroes. Granted they are violating and frightening heroes but heroes nonetheless.
The lack of any new material on the album is significant. Their second album was a middling-to-good attempt were it another band but compared to First Utterence it was a disappointment. I have seen Comus since this live album was recorded and they included new material that I found to be mixed. However, East of Sweden is still a ferocious and essential recording that is as good to my ears as First Utterence despite my concerns about Comus’ future.
Obsessively edited and finalized over the past four years, this new side project of Whitehouse's William Bennett has certainly had its share of pre-release hype, and thankfully it exceeds the expectations I had for it. While there are a few similarities to his other work, there are also a great deal of differences to be heard, making it a distinctly different project.
For those who haven't been following its creation, Cut Hands is Bennett’s exploration of traditional African percussion instruments, along with a tasteful amount of processing and synthesizer accents.It might seem like a shocking shift, but it’s not.While Whitehouse have often been unfairly pigeon-holed as just a noise band with sexually explicit vocals, they definitely evolved into something much more complex and varied.
Bennett's interest in African percussion first found its way onto Whitehouse's Bird Seed album as "Munkisi Munkondi," which also appears here.The track still feels more indebted to noise rather than African percussion, but it was the clear start of this project.Actually, if rumors are true, Bennett himself is solely responsible for the Extreme Music from Africa compilation from 1997, putting the roots of Cut Hands all the way back then.
For better or worse, the African inspired tracks from the last three Whitehouse albums are included here, the aforementioned "Munkisi Mukondi," "Nzambi Ia Lufua" from Asceticists 2006, and "Bia Mintatu" from Racket.They stand out as a bit harsher in comparison to the new material, and they’re also already familiar to Whitehouse fans, but it makes sense to include them here in this context.
This new material might not have the same brutality as Bennett's other work, but it lacks none of the intensity.The complex polyrhythms of "Stabbers Conspiracy," for example, clatter with the rapid intensity of a gang of Somali warlords firing their black market AK-47s.Elsewhere, "Shut Up and Bleed" takes the same rapid fire percussion approach, but with the addition of raw and painful synth noise that is as abrasive as any of his other work.
The strongest pieces are actually, in my opinion, the more spacious, ambient ones.There's a certain cinematic drama conveyed in them, fitting considering some of these tracks appearing in a few documentaries previously."Rain Washes Over Chaff" and its drumless reprise "Rain Washes Over Every Thing" utilize clipped synth swells and brass instruments to mimic the animal sounds of the jungle, creating exceptional tension throughout. "++++ (Four Crosses)" also drops the percussion entirely, using the digitally processed sound from the last few Whitehouse albums to create a shimmering, melancholy ambient piece that is actually quite beautiful.
Interestingly enough, some of the more mid-paced pieces, like "Impassion" could almost pass on a general "world music" compilation, not doing anything overtly abrasive or aggressive.Thankfully these moments are few and far between:too much of this would, to me, make this into a generic third world exploitation piece.Songs like they heavily layered "Ezili Freda" are the polar opposite, burying the percussion under layers of complex noise.
Too often when I hear "world music," I think either generic coffee shop ambience, indie kids trying to look hip ("I only listen to music from countries where they don't have electricity!"), or exploiting other cultures for the sake of appearing unique.Cut Hands has none of that.Not once did I feel like Bennett was trying to co-op African culture as his own, nor does it feel like any cry for attention by being "different."It simply sounds like an artist exploring a topic he is genuinely interested in out of pure love and fascination, with the result being captivating and unique.
Recorded live on a boat in 2008, this CD documents the first performance of Comus in over 30 years. Evidently whatever pact they made to make First Utterance had a retirement clause in it as the band sounds remarkably potent here. Had this been an archive recording from their creative zenith, I would have been impressed but bearing in mind this is the first time they had taken a stage together in over 30 years, this is phenomenal.
From its opening gated reverb drums and spacious guitars, it's clear that this Ohio band’s debut is wearing its early '80s post-punk roots on its sleeve. While it's hard to totally gauge the band on this short record, anyone who likes the era would probably welcome giving this a spin.
"Nature of Feeling," the aforementioned opening track, adds in a healthy dose of melodic bass and oddly performed vocals that are somewhat reminiscent of Missing Persons, but even that's reaching somewhat.They're hard to describe, to say the least.
The overall sound is consistent through all six songs on this EP, with some variations on the theme."Morning in a Room" nicely pairs dirgy, grungy bass with some almost surf influenced guitar, making it overall pretty vibrant in comparison to the darker songs around it.
Same goes for "Future Fights," a short, spiky tune that rushes through its minute and a half duration.Both "Suits" and "Passage on a Ghost Ship" are, comparatively, far more complex, with evolving structures and terse, shifting guitar melodies.I can't help but smile at the rolling tom drums of "Animal Heart," which could totally be stolen from New Order's Movement.
There's definitely a "lost band from the '80s" feel to this EP, and it covers all the bases of the era I like to hear.The vocals are definitely an acquired taste, one I'm still working on.Haley Morris' bass vocals are quite distinct and probably the most idiosyncratic and defining characteristic of the band.They're odd, but still work within the context of the record.It's hard to totally pin down Pleasure Leftists based on this relatively brief EP, but my interest is definitely piqued.
Acid Mothers Temple have had their spot on Hawkwind's vacant space-rock throne pretty much locked down for years, but it increasingly looks like they are going to have to share it with White Hills.  This double album is an explosive and oft-angry monolith of hard rockin', in-the-red psych rock excess that is alternately exhausting and exhilarating.
White Hills do one thing better than almost anyone else: bludgeoningly repetitive, volcanic guitar freak-outs.  In fact, H-p1 opens with one ("The Condition of Nothing") and it is pretty face-melting.  The problem is that the success or failure of that type of song is almost entirely dependent on how much I like the main riff and they do not always nail it.  Another serious problem is that White Hills cannot just keep churning out variations of that same song indefinitely.  They admittedly have a few other tricks up their sleeves, but not quite enough to sustain the momentum necessary to make an 80-minute album compelling from start to finish.
Naturally, the "bad-ass riff plus wild Dave W. shredding" songs like the title piece and "Upon Arrival" largely steal the show.  They are exactly what I enjoy and expect from White Hills.  I don't know if I would describe Dave as a genius or a virtuoso, but he definitely hits all the right spots as far as frenzied wah-wah-heavy guitar squalls are concerned.  He excels at what he does, but what he does is very specific.  Fortunately, there are a few very likable divergences amidst these 9 songs as well.  The biggest surprise is probably "Paradise," a killer white noise-heavy motorik work-out featuring guest drumming from Oneida's Kid Millions.  There are also a few space-y synth-based soundscapes centered around special guest Shazzula Nebula, which is definitely a step in the right direction sequencing-wise.  I enjoyed the oscillating interstellar loneliness of "A Need to Know" quite a bit, but the sheer fact that the band's crushing onslaught is now broken up a bit by oases of relative calm is far more important than the actual content of the guitarless pieces.  The new textures, contrasts, and melodic passages make a huge difference in enhancing the listenability of the album and heightening the impact of the heavy parts.
While there were a few meandering  and less-than-compelling pieces like "Monument"(basically just a drum solo with some bleeps and whooshes over it), this is generally a pretty solid batch of songs.  H-p1's main issue is that there is simply too much material to digest in one dose–this album is overwhelming.  That problem is confounded by the fact that Dave's vocals are almost always of the urgent/angry/howling variety, which can get a bit tiring.  I understand that the band's anti-corporate/consumerist message lends itself to that sort of delivery, but I definitely welcomed the more laid-back, chant-like vocals in "The Condition of Nothing" as well the songs that had no singing at all.  It is not that he is a bad vocalist, but he is a pretty one-dimensional one.  Despite those caveats, however, White Hills is very powerful musical entity; it's just that they are one that is still best appreciated in smaller doses at this point in their career.
Barn Owl has always been very open-minded in assimilating new influences and this latest EP finds them looking to Alice Coltrane and the more meditative side of the Krautrock canon for inspiration.  While there are some subtle resemblances to Popul Vuh at times, Shadowland still sounds very much like Barn Owl, seamlessly weaving these new threads into a very majestic, haunting, and coherent work.
I did not know what to expect from Barn Owl's latest release, as their last album (Ancestral Star) was a bit of a mixed bag.  It sounded great (being their first release recorded in an actual professional studio), but was too stylistically varied for my taste and rarely allowed the band's better ideas sufficient time to naturally unfold.  It definitely seemed like Jon Porras and Evan Caminiti were at a transitional point and it was not clear whether or not I'd be eager to follow them once their true direction became more apparent.  Fortunately, my trepidation was unnecessary, as Shadowland captures the duo (sans guests this time) doing exactly what they do best: making ominous-sounding drone music.  In fact, this might be the best thing that they've released so far.
Notably, all three of these pieces sound very much like they belong together, largely due to their quasi-sacred and strangely temporally detached feel.  "Void and Devotion" begins the album with an eerie minor key bell-like motif that gradually swells in intensity as throbbing synth drones and simmering guitar noise slowly fade in and then out (equally gradually).  The key elements of that piece continue to be the template for the rest of the EP, but in a coherent and thematically linked way rather than a formulaic one: a somberly beautiful melodic figure endlessly repeats in the foreground while roiling chaos erupts (and slowly subsides) beneath it.  The title piece, for example, is built around a simple chiming, chorus-heavy guitar pattern, while the closing "Infinite Reach" unfolds a ghostly and melancholy synth progression. In all cases, Evan and Jon manage to evoke a timeless cosmic sadness and sense of mystery with only the most minimal and necessary ingredients.
It sounds very simple when it is broken down into its component parts, but it isn’t.  Porras and Caminiti keep things very minimal and ambiguously modal throughout–there is no real melodic progression and notes drone and ring without ever betraying much more than a hint of darkness (which turns out to be just enough).  All of the "narrative" and dynamic heavy lifting is done solely by the swells and rumbles in the periphery, which continually recontextualize the songs' themes to provide a convincing feeling of motion.  That's quite a neat trick if it is done right and Barn Owl pull it off quite nicely here: the various threads all interweave, wax, and wane patiently and organically.  Also, it is extremely difficult to avoid sounding "contemporary" when heavily distorted electric guitars are involved, but Jon and Evan somehow manage to do it.  Shadowland may be brief (23 minutes), but it is a deftly understated, immersive, and thoughtful work with a very definite focus.  I am thoroughly impressed.
The title of the third full-length album for this Swiss duo is an abbreviation for either organic or organism, and both are fitting descriptors for the music contained within. Across 11 pieces, Reto Mäder (guitars and electronics) and Fabio Costa (drums and electronics) and a few friends construct a sinister creature, living and breathing, but not of this world. With a strong pairing of chaotic experimentation with some more conventionally structured song-like works, it is a captivating and diverse record from beginning to end.
The pieces that stuck with me the most throughout Orga were the ones where Mäder and Costa embraced a semblance of conventionality with both the structures and sounds within.For a piece such as "Cobalt Powder", the opening may be a bit abstract and noisy, but soon more conventional drums (courtesy of Jason Van Gulick) lead the song into a very different direction.This, complete with some clean guitar ends up taking an almost proggy character to it, in the best possible way.This is nicely offset by the weird, animalistic noises far off in the background, which maybe the credited vocal contributions from Rachel Mercedes Buhlmann, but sound anything but human.
A similar feel permeates "Let Us Begin With What We Do Not Want To Be":opening with an ever expanding electronic drone, bowed strings and big dramatic drums soon fill the mix.The sense of drama and bombast is prominent and increases throughout, but the piece ends on an odd note of stuttering instruments and odd processing, almost as if the mixing desk collapsed as the recording ended.The massive organs throughout "Hypnotic State" sit in some odd juncture between funeral service and psychedelic rock, and never really takes a side either way.Instead the sound slowly rots, becoming more and more riddled with decay, building to a peak of intensity and bleakness.
The less conventional sounding moments are just as powerful on Orga as well.Ritualistic rhythms and percussion open "After the Passing of Risk," blended with a distorted guitar squall.All of the parts come together brilliantly though, sounding like the inner workings of some monstrous creature from another world (or another time), before launching into a more traditional conclusion.Strangely delayed and echoed sounds make up the bulk of "To Deny Responsibility is to Perpetuate a Lie," with a healthy amount of reverb thrown in, making for a fascinating sound that is bafflingly ambiguous in its origin.On "We Have to Mark this Entrance," the duo work with wide-open spaces, filling them with booming drums and elongated strings.At first it has a very soundtrack-like vibe to it, but the glitch bits and transition towards an electronic focus at the end results in a very sinister sheen.
Sum of R's self-titled debut and Lights on Water were strong records in their own right, but Orga showcases the duo at an even higher peak.It does not seem as if it is intentionally a concept record, but that sense of an organic darkness clearly appears throughout, linking the stand-alone pieces by mood, if not by a specific theme.Sequenced in a way that balances out the more rhythmic moments with the looser, more improvised feeling ones, Sum of R creates a marvelous consistency from beginning to end.
It is difficult to fathom that Robin Rimbaud’s Scanner project is nearing its 25th year, given the self-titled debut appeared in 1993. In that span of time he has become involved in a diverse array of artistic endeavors, from soundtracks to performance art, even to oblique pop music as a member of Githead, all of which stray far from his initial digital snooping and nod to the surveillance culture, which has only grown since. Conceptually, The Great Crater is a different beast entirely: a sonic examination of an odd phenomena occurring in Antarctica, and perfectly captures the wonder and potential dread of the event.
The titular crater is one that was first observed in 2014 and was assumed to be the result of a meteor impact.Closer inspections in subsequent years revealed it to be not a crater, but an expanding hole in the ice sheet, caused by pockets of water (from ice that had melted) underneath.The concern is that these pockets will expand, causing the ice sheet itself to disintegrate, with the potential of catastrophic side effects for the rest of the world.Given the nature of this incident, its physical appearance, the possible cause by humanity’s impact on the ecosystem, and its potential for wider reaching damages, it makes a unique theme for a widely varying electronic composition.
Rimbaud does an amazing job creating sounds that approximate these physical events.Rather than just utilizing field recordings of similar phenomena, it seems as if he was able to capture these sounds and images just with processing and modular synthesis.Opening "Cast to the Bottom" demonstrates this from its opening moments:massive rumbles like far off ice cracking is peppered with wet synth pulsations, creating a slushy introduction that he then casts layers of frigid, shimmering electronic space."Underwater Lake" sees him conjuring some quiet, light passages of synthesizer, withoccasional rumbles low in the mix.The tasteful amount of processing done gives the whole piece a distinctly aquatic sound, somewhat submerged but clear enough to be fully appreciated.
Later on, "Katabatic Wind" drifts in slowly via shimmery passages of peaceful sound.Even though there is an airy quality to the mix, Rimbaud blends in some echoing, sonar like notes that cluster together in the form of rudimentary, yet beautiful melodies."Lakes Under Lakes" is another slow moving piece, largely centered around a blend of string-like tones that are tinged with just the right amount of dissonance.A composition such as "Forming Circuits" stands out as captures him playing around with a more distinct sense rhythm.Built upon an insistent pulse that could almost be extrapolated from a 1990s house record, he adds some static crunch to take things in a different direction.
The lengthy "The Scar" is one of the moments on The Great Crater in which Rimbaud takes a more clearly composed approach to the sound.Big, droning low end is blended with eerie passages.With the addition of some big, far off crashes and a slowly expanding dynamic, he builds the piece to a dramatic, almost orchestral like conclusion that works perfectly."Strange Circles" has a sequenced-like melody from the opening moments that he builds upon throughout.The added electronic bits that come in and out do lend an almost 1970s science documentary feel to the proceedings, but Rimbaud is careful to rein things in before they get too far into new age territory.
There is undoubtedly a bleakness that runs throughout The Great Crater, no doubt to capture the potential danger of this event, but also our hand in creating it.The sound itself, however, is far more gorgeous than simple darkness though.Rimbaud’s ability to capture such non-musical events and themes via electronics is impeccable, and it is through that beauty that he injects a bit of hope into what otherwise seems like a grim situation.Regardless of the ecological impact or implications, however, The Great Crater is unquestionably a compelling and fascinating record that further cements Rimbaud’s legacy as a multi-talented and peerless, diverse composer.
Seven years and three albums into the project, Gnawed’s Grant Richardson continues to release bleak, dissonant electronic music that is exceptionally nuanced and demonstrates not only his knack for antagonistic harshness, but also a penchant for expert sound design. Pestilence Beholden may not reinvent the wheel, but it does deliver nine pieces of moody, at times oppressive industrial noise that stays dynamic and ever changing throughout, and is an expert example of the style.
Diversity is not usually a term associated with the sound of death industrial music, but Richardson works with the elements associated with the genre but places them in often different and varying contexts.The opening "A Bitter Harvest" is a sleek yet menacing passage of sustained bassy electronics, with some almost pained melodies sneaking through as Richardson piles on the layers.Crunching noise, metallic scrapes, and what sounds like bells and lost radio communications are all present by its conclusion, coming together as a lurching, sinister mass of sound.
It is hard to not feel some old school Maurizio Bianchi sensibilities on "The Hand That Feeds" via its depressive, morose synth melodies (albeit with a greater clarity than Bianchi’s work ever had), but the addition of big, dramatic percussion and heavily processed vocals sound like something much more contemporary.The sound shifts from pensive to harsh and back again but it never relents.A similar structure is at play on "Pestilence Beholden II", as Richardson’s looming, menacing electronics expand, hiding a distant, isolated voice, and eventually met with aggressive, banging metal and monstrous screaming.
However, a piece such as "Who Shall Reap?" is more of a rhythmic one, with distorted drum programming and buzzing electronics underscoring shimmering passages of noise.Heavily sputtering and processed voices appear, but the overall sound is more haunting than pummeling.Structurally, "Wheat from Chaff" follows, though the rhythms are scaled back to a sinister plod, as Richardson’s vocals are mangled to be almost entirely inhuman.Even with this, a slightly melodic passage lurks deep in the mix, keeping some sense of musical grounding at play.
The longest piece is saved for last:"Perdition (Death’s Disease)" starts not with dissonance, but a heavy, dense melodic passage that vibrates menacingly.Voices are present but extremely low in the mix, and not treated with the same level of effects as before.With the noise kept down throughout its eight minutes, I kept expecting it to explode aggressively in to a full on blast of harsh noise before its conclusion, but it never does.
Gnawed’s latest work may not be entirely innovative, but the way he manages to work with the material is extremely effective, and the full sound of the album is a varied and complex one.The mood may stay dark, but Grant Richardson does an exceptional job of creating the sonic equivalent to every shade of gray.
The three artists that make up this trio: electronics expert Alberto Boccardi, drummer/percussionist Paolo Mongardi, and double bass player Antonio Bertoni have performed alongside renowned artists such as Bill Laswell, Eraldo Bernocchi, Mika Vaino, and many others, but Litio is the first release that brings them together. That is not at all apparent, since the band’s work on this record is that of a well oiled machine, drawing from industrial, krautrock, and the avant garde, among other elements, resulting in a gripping, dark piece of taut rhythmic music.
The trio waste no time establishing their sound on this record.Immediately, "Vento Solare" is a quiet passage of electronics, soon met with forceful, but erratic drumming and cymbal work.With its rhythm section locked in (Bertoni’s double bass playing sounds nothing like the jazz inflections I expected), Boccardi's synthesizers are weaved in.His electronic work is somewhat conventional at this point, with the more traditional styled playing fitting in well with the harsher rhythmic backing.The drama builds and the piece transitions into more sinister spaces, with the focus shifted to percussion pounding through the echoing dungeon ambience.
The following "Chimera" is structurally similar, but overall less intense in sound.Mongardi immediately leads things off with a big, galloping drum passage that is augmented by the driving double bass sound.The rhythm is taut, but varies and makes for an overall dynamic piece of music.Throughout, electronic melodies make their appearances here and there, but for the most part they are intentionally secondary to the driving rhythms, and the piece ends the first side of the record on a comparably lighter note.
On the other side, "Red Stone Floating" is another instant piece of musical intensity.While not overly bleak or dark sounding, it is immediately a blast of sustained electronics and metallic rhythms that is quite forceful.Electronic melodies are snuck in, underscored by abrasive crackling noises, as the whole mix becomes richer and heavier as the piece keeps going.By the end it is just a wonderfully heavy rumble as the melody slowly melts away.
The closer, "Reconfigure. Matter_Energy_Space_Time" at first has more of a free improv feel, with the double bass strings first creating some unconventional rhythmic start as the more conventional drumming is blended in as an accompaniment.The structure is free flowing and diverse, but the whole time generating a strong sense of tension that just builds and builds until it eventually relents a bit in the closing moments.
On the whole, Litio is a heavily percussive album that really showcases the rhythm section of Paolo Mongardi and Antonio Bertoni.It is within these strong, occasionally oppressive rhythms that the more subtle work of Alberto Boccardi really shines:his electronics range from suitably dissonant noise treatments to strong, warm melodic passages that offset the driving beats extremely well.Bleak without being dull, and intense without being overwhelming, the album comes together as greater than the sum of its parts, staying fresh and captivating from beginning to end.