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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This is the latest EP by Jakob Battick’s group combines folk and psychedelic experimentation with slow motion arrangements; the group wear their influences on their sleeves but manage to distinguish themselves from their musical ancestors and their peers through their mixing of styles. Bloodworm Songs is by no means perfect (the recording quality is distinctly low fidelity and the more experimental segments are rather tame) but there is certainly diamonds hidden amidst the rough.
The opening piece, "My First Bloodworm Song (Up in the Sky)," reminds me very much of Thee Silver Mt. Zion’s "Broken Chords Can Sing a Little" from their first album; both groups combining shortwave radio broadcasts and haunting, minimal music to great effect. However, I was a little worried that Battick and his group might end up following this formula for the rest of the EP as there are only so many scratchy radio sounds I can take in one sitting. Thankfully, the remainder of Bloodworm Songs sees Battick and his friends creating gorgeous songs in their own style, moving away from the template set out in the opening piece.
As aforementioned, the recording quality is not exactly the industry standard; "Leper K" sounds like it was recorded on an answering machine but this blurred and dusty recording suits the vibe of the song as a collection of voices merge together over some gently strummed guitars and insistent violins. "Three Orphans" continues this thread as the group sounds like The Angels of Light if Fleet Foxes were in charge of the reverb pedal and vocal harmonies. Yet, as nice as this sounds, I feel Battick is holding back. His voice stays in a monotone when it sounds like he should be able to put potency and variation into his delivery.
The only piece I do not particularly enjoy on the EP is "Our Second Bloodworm Song (Fed Through Isinglass)" where the group create a noisy din out of scraped violins. It should be right up my alley but it seems a bit forced (especially with the comments in the sleeve notes about "Most people will stop listening before the end of this song"). The memories of this interlude are thankfully blotted out by the EP’s final song "Nine Brothers & The Wolf" where all my criticisms above about Battick’s voice are addressed which shows that he is as capable as I expected he was.
While this is not a perfect release, Battick and his colleagues show promise. With a more focused approach they could definitely put together a far stronger recording and hopefully their forthcoming full length release will build on the foundations laid here. That is not to denigrate Bloodworm Songs, despite its flaws it has a lot more character than many of the CDs that end up coming through my letterbox.
I haven't had this much of a hard-on over an album since Colder's Heat. Marry Me Tonight (actually from 2009) is an almost purely emotional experience, with nine songs that in various levels combine ominous and chugging bass lines, creepy guitar (imagine that sound Wire toyed with on "Single KO"), a cold 808-supplied rhythm, a particularly endearing crudeness, and perverse lyrics with a disaffected delivery. This is a wet dream of a teenager overpowered by his or her hormones with enough pent up angst to send most adults into therapy.
Blast First Petite
Pronounced "Hate Rock Trio," this male/male/female group originated in Melbourne, moved to Berlin, released a seven-song EP, Nostalgia, in 2007 on Fire (after sending a demo to my own Killer Pimp label, which I'm kicking myself because I can't remember listening and it probably got lost in the shuffle), moved to London and between 2008 and 2009, released this full-length album and a couple singles. Sadly, Sean Stewart (who co-founded the group along with Nigel Yang) passed in March of 2010.
The strong emphasis on rhythm, via a pounding bass guitar and 808, coupled with the dissonant guitar is immediately attention commanding, fresh from the opening song "Ha." "Rentboy," however is where the mighty and lovable hooks come into play. Lyrically, the songs speak volumes to the teenager inside me: there's nothing subtle here. Don’t expect any deep thoughts—there is no opacity as everything is explicit—just nine songs that are easy to learn and sing about obsession, possession, domination, and aggression.
"and everyone in the room you're giving it to And everyone in the room you've had once or more
I'll pretend that i'm new I'll act surprised when it ends And when you're overdue I'll watch you over and over again rentboy"
Sure it’s not anything new, but the songs are wonderfully catchy. Songs like "Panties" have teeth-gnashing guitar noise reminiscent of World Domination Enterprises while "Shoot You Up" has some powerful bass slappage going on.
"When you get home He'll suck you off 'cause he's hanging out to get closer I'm with my friend She's fucked up but she'll shoot you up She'll shoot you up to get closer"
The group seems as unapologetic as the lyrics would suggest, just do a Google image search for HTRK and their full-frontal publicity shot is one of the most common hits.
Hate Paul Smith or fucking hate Paul Smith, the man has great taste in music (he has been irresponsible in one way or another for Cabaret Voltaire, Sonic Youth, Labradford, Throbbing Gristle, Suicide, Panasonic, Wire, Rivulets, and Effi Briest, just to name a few). Given this album came out over two years ago on Blast First Petite but never made (deservedly) big waves across the waters, I can only imagine that Smith priced every prospective label out of the market. I can't blame him, however, as the production job by the late Rowland Howard (The Birthday Party) is flawless and probably wasn't cheap. HTRK continues on without Sean Stewart and a new album is due this year.
The album opens with the title track, a long piece brooding with psychological horror. Panning back and forth with ominous repetition it digs into me, beneath the surface, and I want to shed my skin. Oppressive and claustrophobic I clamor for air. This song feels like the moment of anxiety just before a peak experience. Once the summit of the mountain is reached however, the exultation and triumph incumbent upon a job well done kicks in and the rest of the album is crisp, vast, stretching without pause from horizon to horizon, clear as the hoarfrost on the arctic tundra.
In common with the rest of the deep and benevolent ambience presented on the album "Aurora Performs It’s Last Show" captures expansive feelings of freedom by recreating the sounds of unbounded open space. Alessandro Tedeschi, who runs the Glacial Movements label, here presents his own distillation of sounds from the Northern Lights. It is another fine example of the isolationist aesthetic the label specializes in. A slow cycling of notes opens the song, which exists in the nether regions of dawn or twilight, a liminal space between regions. Leaking into the washed out glissandos is a corrupt transmission, a broken voice speaking through static. As regular readers may remember, I’m a big fan of the use of radio broadcasts, whether sampled or sourced live during a performance, in the creation of music. And while this tactic or gimmick doesn’t work with everything, when done well, it often produces startling results. On this piece it is used in minimal amounts, while still giving the song added texture and depth.
The centerpiece of the album is "Iceblink - Aurora Borealis Mix." A long lulling loop, resonant on the low end, is caressed by a cold northern wind. Higher octaves gradually emerge, short but repeating overtones, which harmonize with the ever present drone. Sprinkles of brittle bells and the cracking of ice are the only dramatic events in this piece which is less about narrative than about spatial awareness. "Crystallize Words" can rest comfortably alongside the classics of dark ambient. Low in the background or off in the distance, the pounding a bass drum brings back for a moment the sense of impending dread felt while listening to the title number–but it is not as all consuming. Symphonic strains swirl through the cold, as a faint voice murmurs, perhaps a memory or a ghost.
"Thoughts Locked In The Ice" give this listener some breathing space again. The pauses, gaps, and brief snippets of near silence are like breaks between snow storms, the clear terrain between deep blankets and heavy drifts. One of the most meditative pieces on the album, the simple textures recur over and over again, faithful as a treasured mantra. The last piece, "Iperborea," is the most otherworldly of the bunch, and rightly so as the title of the song is Italian for Hyperborean. To the ancient Greeks Hyperborea was the land in the far north where the sun shined for 24 hours a day. The steady pulses and shimmers of this song and this album took me to a similar place: both bright and cold.
Akron's one-man debut nods to influences such as Delia Derbyshire and Joe Meek but cannot begin to approach the originality or spirit of experiment of those legends. Yet the best of these pieces are odd exotic bleeping echoes which did transport me to other worlds, just perhaps not the ones intended.
Akron's one-man debut nods to influences such as Delia Derbyshire and Joe Meek but cannot begin to approach the originality or spirit of experiment of those legends. Yet the best of these pieces are odd exotic bleeping echoes which did transport me to other worlds, just perhaps not the ones intended.
Akron is a new name to me and there is enough charm in this album to ensure I will seek future releases. The title, however, Voyage of Exploration points to space travel, rather than to a more natural terrain for this music. This is inner space music, more reflective of progress in other scientific technologies, such as the invention of the microscope and the digital circuit, which have revealed inner worlds while igniting a revolution in art and spirituality every bit as inspiring as that which has resulted in space flights and, well, rocket science.
So, beyond the obvious references to Meek, sci-fi, and lounge-exotica, Akron's pieces are well suited to a miniature aesthetic as opposed to a macro one. Digital and cellular worlds come to mind, of genome topography, video games, and popular culture as in the film Fantastic Voyage, wherein a crew (including Raquel Welch) shrunk to .1 microns (or 250,000 times smaller than her 5'6 stature) board a submarine designed at the C.M.D.F. (Combined Miniaturized Deterrent Forces) facility and are injected into a human patient with one hour to remove a life-threatening clot. Certainly the album could use more instrumental variety. If these are supposed to be nine new worlds then they seem remarkably similar to 1970s episodes of Dr Who; in that these distant planets all start to resemble a couple of quarries just outside London. In fairness, I expect Akron's budget is not much more than the BBC's for those shows, but imagination costs nothing. I don't want to travel to any planet depicted in such unimaginative titles as "Rabbits in Orbit" and "Frog War Chant."
The aspect of exploration of a digital world made sense to me when playing the final track in my car while transporting some high school art students. I had already decided this mournful piece was my favorite, before i knew that it was called "Funeral for Euclid." As we drove one of the students suddenly asked what it was and announced:
"It sounds like music from a video game in the middle of a quest when you've just defeated a mid-level boss of evil and you're walking out of town with lots of gifts and bonuses but it's bittersweet because one of your friends has been killed in a cut-out scene."
This is not a poor record, but after a few listens I began to feel I was in the title story from David Eagleman's Sum: Forty Tales From The Afterlife. In that tale we live our life over again but "all the moments that share a quality are grouped together. You spend two months driving the street in front of your house, seven months having sex. You sleep for thirty years without opening your eyes. For five months straight you flip through magazines while sitting on a toilet." I'm not sure what activity is suggested by, or could be soundtracked by, Voyage of Exploration, but it may be slicing bread or washing hair. Something mildly pleasant but not ecstatic or very exciting. And that figure for sex is depressingly low now I look at it.
Akron’s charming one-man debut nods to influences such as Delia Derbyshire and Joe Meek but cannot begin to approach the originality or spirit of experiment of those legends. The best of these pieces are odd exotic bleeping echoes which did transport me to other worlds, just perhaps not the ones intended.
Akron is a new name to me but there is enough charm in this album to ensure I’ll look out for future releases. If Voyage of Exploration is also disappointing, which I think it is, then perhaps that is because the title points to space travel, which lost part of its luster a while back, rather than to a more natural terrain for this music. I feel this is inner space music, suggestive of progress in other scientific technologies, such as the invention of the microscope and the digital circuit. These have revealed inner worlds while igniting a revolution in art and spiritual aspects every bit as inspiring as that which has resulted in space flights and, well, rocket science.
Beyond the obvious references to Meek, sci-fi, and lounge-exotica, Akron’s pieces are well suited to a miniature aesthetic as opposed to a macro one. Digital and cellular worlds come to mind, be those genome topography, video games, or popular culture - as in the film Fantastic Voyage, wherein a crew -including Raquel Welch shrunk to .1 microns, or 250,000 times smaller than her 5’6 stature -board a submarine designed at the C.M.D.F. (Combined Miniaturized Deterrent Forces) facility and are injected into a human patient with one hour to remove a life-threatening clot.
Certainly the album could use more variety. If these are supposed to be nine new worlds then after awhile they seem remarkably similar to certain i970s episodes of Dr Who, in that these distant planets all start to resemble a couple of quarries just outside London. In fairness, I expect Akron’s budget is not much more than the BBC’s for those shows, but imagination costs nothing. I don’t want to travel to any planet depicted in such unimaginative titles as “Rabbits in Orbit” and “Frog War Chant.”
The aspect of exploration of a digital world made sense to me when playing the final track in my car while transporting some high school art students. I had already decided this mournful piece was my favorite, before i knew that it was called “Funeral for Euclid.” As we drove one of the students suddenly asked what it was and announced: “It sounds like music from a video game in the middle of a quest when you've just defeated a mid-level boss of evil and you're walking out of town with lots of gifts and bonuses but it's bittersweet because one of your friends has been killed in a cut-out scene."
This is not a poor record, but after a few listens I began to feel I was in the title story from David Eagleman’s Sum: Forty Tales From The Afterlife. In that tale we live our life over again but “all the moments that share a quality are grouped together. You spend two months driving the street in front of your house, seven months having sex. You sleep for thirty years without opening your eyes. For five months straight you flip through magazines while sitting on a toilet.” I’m not sure what activity is suggested by Voyage of Exploration, but it may be slicing bread or washing hair. Something mildly pleasant but not ecstatic or very exciting. And that figure for sex is depressing low now I look at it.
Akron’s charming one-man debut nods to influences such as Delia Derbyshire and Joe Meek but cannot begin to approach the originality or spirit of experiment of those legends. The best of these pieces are odd exotic bleeping echoes which did transport me to other worlds, just perhaps not the ones intended.
Akron is a new name to me and there is enough charm in this album to ensure I’ll look out for future releases. If Voyage of Exploration is also disappointing, which I think it is, then perhaps it is because the title points to space travel, something which lost much of its luster a while back, rather than to a more natural terrain for this music. Progress in other scientific technology, such as the invention of the microscope and the digital circuit, have revealed inner worlds while igniting a revolution in art and spirituality every bit as inspiring as that which has resulted in space flights and, well, rocket science.
Beyond the obvious references to Meek, sci-fi, and lounge-exotica, Akron’s pieces are well suited to a miniature aesthetic as opposed to a macro one. Digital and cellular worlds come to mind, as in genome topography, video games, and popular culture - as in the film Fantastic Voyage, wherein a crew -including Raquel Welch shrunk to .1 microns, or 250,000 times smaller than her 5’6 stature -board a submarine designed at the C.M.D.F. (Combined Miniaturized Deterrent Forces) facility and are injected into a human patient with one hour to remove a life-threatening clot.
Certainly the album could use more variety. If these are supposed to be nine new worlds then after awhile they seem remarkably similar to 1970s episode of Dr Who in that these distant planets all start to resemble a couple of quarries just outside London. In fairness, I expect Akron’s budget is not much more than the BBC’s for those shows, but imagination costs nothing. I don’t want to travel to any planet depicted in such unimaginative titles as “Rabbits in Orbit” and “Frog War Chant.”
The aspect of exploration of a digital world made sense to me when playing the final track in my car while transporting some high school art students. I had already decided this mournful piece was my favorite, before I knew that it was called “Funeral for Euclid.” As we drove one of the students suddenly asked what it was and announced: “It sounds like music from a video game in the middle of a quest when you've just defeated a mid-level boss of evil and you're walking out of town with lots of gifts and bonuses but it's bittersweet because one of your friends has been killed in a cut-out scene."
This is not a poor record, but after a few listens I began to feel I was in the title story from David Eagleman’s Sum: Forty Tales From The Afterlife. In that version, we all live our life over again but “all the moments that share a quality are grouped together. You spend two months driving the street in front of your house, seven months having sex. You sleep for thirty years without opening your eyes. For five months straight you flip through magazines while sitting on a toilet.” I’m not sure what activity is suggested by Voyage of Exploration, but it may be slicing bread or washing hair. Something mildly pleasant but not ecstatic or very exciting. And that figure for sex is depressing low now I look at it.
'Mountain' is an artistic collaboration between musicians Anni Hogan, Robert Strachan and Itchy Ear, film maker Bob Wass and mountaineer Cathy O'Dowd.
Hogan and Itchy Ear originally worked on a series of piano pieces inspired by Rene Daumal's 'Mount Analogue' and the superior wisdom of mountains, using O'Dowds Himalayan conquests for particular authentic inspiration. Robert and Anni used these pieces and the Himalayan peaks as a template for painting a soundwave soundscape around the piano compositions.
Cathy has supplied all the photographs for the album sleeve, beautifully edited by Abby Helasdottir, and Cathy has performed a fascinating and revealing monologue over the piece 'Deathzone'.
The 'Mountain' film has been created by Bob Wass from Cathy's original film footage of her Everest expeditions. The film and soundtrack are an experimental 'journey' to explore sonically and visually the nature of 'journey and mountains'.
Tracks:
CD:1. Strange Beauty | 2. Lost Intense | 3. Stark Reality | 4. Sunburst | 5. Altitude | 6. Cherished Blazing Moon | 7. First Light | 8. Pelydrau Haul Ar Dir Y Rynys. Yw Heddwch Pur Mewn Oes Llawn Brys. (Rynys Base Camp) | 9. Mother Goddess | 10. Transition Rendition | 11. Endurance | 12. Deathzone (with special commentary from Cathy O’Dowd) | 13. The Clearing Uncleared | 14. Frozen Eulogy
Artist: Skullflower Title: Fucked On A Pile Of Corpses Catalogue No: CSR151CD Barcode: 8 2356650612 6 Format: CD in jewelcase Genre: Power Electronics / Noise Shipping: 13th June
Alternating between granular lo-fi primitive rock and granular lo-fi primitive Power Electronics, this taut disc is a chain mail glove of hate to any lazy minds who've tainted the air with describing Skullflower as 'psychedelic'. But that's not to say this is an all out total assault. There are also moments of tender acoustic balladry, its just that they don't exist.
The remorseless brutal sound is primitive, but as detailed and rich as a blood soaked medieval canvas, somewhere betwixt The Rita and Clandestine Blaze, but more brutal!
Long live the New Flesh! Kether is in Malkuth, Malkuth is in Kether, but in a different way...
Tracks: 1. Hanged Man's Seed | 2. Viper's Fang | 3. Defiling Their Temples With Bestial Lust | 4. Anubis Station | 5. Fairy Knife Hell | 6. Tantrik Ass Rape | 7. Sleipnir
40 minutes of dense astral emanations and magickal paradigms transmitted through the ritual mantras generated by Emme Ya.
Emme Ya’s ‘Atavistic Dreams & Phallic Totems’ is based on the mysterious African Dogon tribe and their secret oral tradition. In the 1930s two anthropologists gained their trust enough to be told these remarkable secrets.
The Dogon seemed to possess advanced astronomical knowledge beyond their means, without any instruments. They revealed that the star Sirius was orbited by the ‘smallest and heaviest of all stars’ and drew its elliptical orbit, which spans 18 years. This white dwarf (Sirius B) is so invisible that the first image was only obtained by scientists in 1970. But the Dogon also told of a third star in the system named Emme Ya (now Sirius C). This was only discovered in 1995 and only with the use of advanced infrared imaging.
The Dogon say that their information was given to their ancestors through contact with beings from the star system of Sirius, calling these beings Nommos or ‘the monitors of the universe'.
This is the final chapter of this colorfully named and eternally shifting Seattle collective's Totem trilogy and it is confounding and inspired in equal doses.  Characteristically, the band still sounds like some kind of weird psychedelic cult, but the fictitious cult in question seems to shift in both disposition and temporal/geographic location a bit more dramatically than they have in the past, which makes for a rather strange and disorienting listening experience.  At least it is confusing for the right reasons though, as Totem 3's problems stem primarily from sheer over-ambition: there is literally no one on earth that could successfully and seamlessly combine influences as disparate as metaphysical philosophy, John Carpenter, Indian cinema, and Taureg blues.
Totem 3 begins with a piece entitled "Bardo Sidpa," which is a Tibetan Buddhist term that roughly translates into a rebirth into the world after reaching a transcendental state.  Such a return is apparently quite difficult and fraught with spiritual traps, so the piece is quite an ominous one, built around Randall Dunn's Tibetan throat singing and mournful brass.  One of the instruments used is actually a long trumpet called a Rag dun, which is traditionally used by Tibetan monks, further confirming that these guys are extremely serious about thematic consistency (for now).  The horn drones are further augmented by jangling chimes, slowly pulsing and discordant faux-accordion chords, and suicidally plunging synth tones.  It's a pretty sinister piece of ritualistic ambiance and a rather strong one too, but it then segues into the much lighter "In the Twilight of Kali Yuga."  After a briefly droning flute introduction, it transitions into a stomping and joyous acoustic guitar and tabla piece that sounds like some kind of fake Indian wedding dance.  This is where things begin to derail a bit, as it is simply too relentlessly cheery for me, despite its appealing enthusiasm and heft.
The third piece, "Illuminating the Ten Directions," brings things back down to drone territory, but still fails to win me back, as the "desert nomad" flute noodling and chanted vocals sit somewhat clumsily with the low-end synth hum and occasional distorted electric guitar strums.  The collision of "organic and spiritual" with "contemporary and electrified" just isn’t seamless or logical enough to be convincing. The following "Prophecy of the White Camel/Namoutarre" gets back a little momentum though, approximating a darker, slower negative of "Kali Yuga" mixed with a bit of Sun City Girls-style psych (no coincidence, since Alan Bishop contributes guest vocals to both pieces).  There's a lot to like about it, as the percussion is pretty crushing and locks into a hypnotic, slow-motion groove and Timba Harris (viola/violin) and Milky (electric guitar) both keep things interesting and vibrant melodically.  Also, there is some boisterous ululating at the end, which I always enjoy.
The album draws to a finish with three very jarring curve balls in a row.  "6000 Years of Darkness" sounds like some sort of bizarre cross between a Leone/Morricone Western and medieval chamber music with nothing quasi-ethnic, heavy, or psychedelic included to link it thematically with anything around it.  Then "Reign of Quantity and the Signs of the Times" takes things about as far as they can go in the opposite direction, sounding like a space station computer going haywire right before it self-destructs. Then that is followed by the brief and weirdly anticlimactic John Carpenter soundtrack-worship of "Failed Future."  I dig Escape From New York and Assault on Precinct 13 as much as the next guy, but I don't understand why anyone would want to reproduce such a time- and context-specific sound on an India/Tibet-themed psych concept album in 2011.
I dearly wish I liked this album more than I do, as Totem 2 was amazing and it is disappointing to see the trilogy end on a lesser note. Most frustrating is that the individual songs (for the most part) are fairly imaginative and well-executed, but they don't make much sense in the context of the entire album.  The Master Musicians of Bukkake on Totem 3 simplydo not at all sound like the same band from song to song, even though there was obviously a lot of thought involved in the album's construction and sequence (ie- the titles provide clues to a coherent thematic arc, the structure mirrors previous Totems, and the "Om ah ra pa ca na dhih" chant is repeated in three songs).  This album does not flow.  These guys are a consistently excellent band, but they are also a fairly chameleonic one, so the fact that Totem 3’s mission did not entirely succeed is not cause for much concern Chalk this one up as a flawed experiment.