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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On their fourth full-length record, Arbouretum turn their churning rhythms and buzzing guitars inward to explore the uncanny spaces of the collective unconscious. Inspired in part by Carl Jung, Dave Heumann's lyrics are featured more prominently on The Gathering, which might explain why the band sounds looser and less aggressive this time around. The change accentuates Arbouretum's strengths and shows off Heumann's stupendous songwriting ability.
When I read that Dave Heumann used Carl Jung and the Red Book as a source of inspiration for The Gathering, I immediately restarted the record and focused on Dave's lyrics. Doing so was an involuntary mental reflex. Listening to the album's opener, "The White Bird," a second time, I paid close attention to all of Heumann's symbols and references: small white birds, geomatter, the gloaming, true natures vs. superficial realities, and esoteric knowledge. Images such as these are woven into the fabric of The Gathering, and they are frequently employed to tell stories about traveling, a theme also present in the artwork. Exploring the latent content in Heumann's words inevitably leads to self-exploration, so that listening to the record is a little like participating in it.
Musically, the band follows Heumann on his psycho-spiritual quest. Their inclusive approach, which blends Crazy Horse with Bardo Pond and Palace Music, is the musical equivalent of Dave's nebulous lyricism. Despite having a sound similar to previous records, a number of new musicians are featured on The Gathering. Guitarist Steve Stroheimer and percussionist Daniel Franz are replaced on this record by J.V. Brian Carey, who takes up the skins, and Matthew Pierce, who plays keyboards and serves as a second percussionist; that leaves Dave on the six-string and bassist Corey Allender, who is the only musician other than Heumann who also appeared on 2009's Song of the Pearl.
Oddly, losing one guitarist resulted in a thicker, more layered sound for Arbouretum. Capable of absolutely massive, buzz-drenched squalor, the band also produces eerily atmospheric music, which sometimes supports and sometimes mimics Dave's vocal melodies. No matter how chaotic that confluence becomes, Carey holds the band together, demonstrating once again just how important the drummer is to Arbouretum's music. He and Allender manage to make Heumann and Pierce's efferent noises coalesce, so that The Gathering has a chunky, sometimes pulsing quality about it. Together they open up an inner space, which can be as personal or objective as it needs to be.
But, Dave's symbols and metaphors didn't take on a personal dimension for me until I heard their cover of Jimmy Webb's "Highwayman," which sits at the center of the album. As the Highwaymen, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, and Willie Nelson made this song popular, but both Glen Campbell and Webb produced outstanding versions of their own. Webb's masterpiece, which is as much about explorers and outlaws as it is about spiritual archetypes, epitomizes the rest of The Gathering perfectly, and also shows that Heumann is as concerned with great songwriting as he is with psychedelic noise and Jungian psychology.
Through the simplicity and directness of that tune, Arbouretum established a firm connection to my own consciousness, primarily because "Highwayman" is one of my favorite songs, but also because it summons up many childhood memories. Afterward, The Gathering took on new dimensions for me, each one adding to my enjoyment. "Highwayman" probably won't have the same effect on other listeners, but I doubt that the band's superb playing and Dave's songwriting would leave anyone unimpressed. The Gathering is a phenomenal record, with or without Carl Jung and his numinous influence.
On their fourth full-length record, Arbouretum turn their churning rhythms and buzzing guitars inward to explore the uncanny spaces of the collective unconscious. Inspired in part by Carl Jung, Dave Heumann's lyrics are featured more prominently on The Gathering, which might explain why the band sounds looser and less aggressive this time around. The change accentuates Arbouretum's strengths and shows off Heumann's stupendous songwriting ability.
Late last year, Southern Lord released a collection of Earth's earliest recordings, several of which originally appeared on their first EP, 1991's Extra-Capsular Extraction. That may prove a red herring for those wanting the band to revisit its pioneering brand of drone-doom metal. Earth's latest magnum opus continues in the opposite direction, building on the gorgeous gothic Americana debuted on 2005's Hex; or Printing in the Infernal Method. Fortunately, Earth have not only recorded a capable new album—they have made subtle stylistic adjustments that pay off handsomely.
Whether spurred by the unavailability of guitarist Dylan Carlson's prior band mates, his creative restlessness, or a little bit of both, Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light I sees significant changes in Earth's line-up. Steve Moore, who played piano and Hammond organ on 2008's masterful The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull, is absent for this recording. Karl Blau takes the place of Don McGreevy on bass guitar. Most noticeably, Lori Goldston joins the band on cello—an instrument that proves vital to Earth's approach on this album, a heavenly counterpoint to Carlson's endlessly reverberating guitar. As always, Adrienne Davies serves as the band's percussive anchor on "sea hooves and Satans' knuckles" as well as Carlson's songwriting partner.
At its core, Earth has focused on slow tempos, minimalism and repetition for the last 20 years: less is more, Carlson has often said. On Angels of Darkness, the band takes a step back from the complex, jazz-influenced sound of The Bees Made Honey and simplifies its songwriting, drawing attention to the striking, cinematic interplay between Carlson's guitar and Goldston's cello. This album is all about nuance: the way Carlson carefully strikes each chord, letting it resonate patiently in the open space between Davies' steady drum hits, notes bending and quivering against a backdrop of subterranean electric bass. Colorful smears of cello breathe depth into the songs, weaving around and through Carlson's enveloping guitar tones, filling out Earth's lush sound. The five songs play well together as a suite, centering on subtle improvisation within simple, repetitive, long-form structures that I find hypnotic, absorbing and ultimately satisfying.
The final song, "Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light I," was improvised and recorded live in the studio, stretching out to 20 minutes. It takes its time getting off the ground, with cello and bass slowly fading in before Carlson and Davies join. The session unfolds to gorgeous effect, a resonant wash of guitar and cello tones rising and falling throughout; toward the song's end, guitar and drums disappear and the track closes, fittingly, as it began—on cello and bass. Two years ago, songs from The Bees Made Honey were reborn on 2009's Radio Earth EP, a live recording that set aside the immaculate production of Bees and let the band interact in a spontaneous setting. That Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light I closes with a similar, beautifully paced recording—itself the capstone on an album full of songs that showcase Earth's live chemistry—is a major success.
The late Curro Fuentes was quite a fascinating guy.  The youngest brother of the Fuentes musical dynasty that dominated Colombian music for four decades, he stayed behind on the coast and started his own studio when Discos Fuentes relocated to the city of Medellin (he found highland food to be "insipid"anyway).  Combining some of Colombia's biggest jazzmen with the most exciting young musicians culled from Cartegena's many red-light district casinos, brothels, and strip clubs, he produced a slew of scorching, sexed-up big band records in the '60s.  Cartagena! assembles many of them, but the high level of quality here makes me think that the vault is far from empty.  I sincerely hope there will be a sequel.
Cartagena! is a sequel of sorts to 2007's Columbia!, which covered the output of Discos Fuentes (the label run by Curro's brothers Antonio and Rafael) around roughly the same period.  Despite Discos Fuentes' huge success, Curro always chose to remain separate, starting off with with his own Discos Curros imprint before eventually teaming up with Phillips.  In a way, Curro's studio was kind of a Colombian analog to Factory Records, as it was very devoted to Cartagena's local music scene and there was a lot of overlap between bands–many musicians that led their own bands happily lended their talents to other ensembles.  Consequently, Curro's productions drew from a pretty unparalleled talent pool.  Equally important is the fact that Fuentes had very strong opinions about what sounded good and wasn't at all shy about sharing them, replacing percussionists and pianists himself if they couldn't get a track just right.  Also, he was one of the first cumbia producers to make heavy use of electric bass, which he liked quite loud.
The eclectic array of performers that Fuentes drew together resulted in some interesting cross-pollinations between Latin music genres, which goes a long way towards explaining why this music is so spectacular.  The young musicians from Cartagena's clubs made damn sure that the rhythms were raucous and propulsive, while their more established counterparts ensured that the arrangements were skillful and inventive.  Despite the disparate backgrounds and the high level of musicianship, everyone could agree upon the very populist objective of heating up dancefloors.  As such, this music was very focused on appealingly accessible elements like wild percussion, sultry grooves, and memorable hooks, which is quite different than where American jazz was headed around the same time.
Of all the artists, I was most impressed by saxophonist/bandleader Lucho Bermudez, who is the sole returnee from Colombia! (Soundway sure loves exclamation points).  Bermudez's two pieces are the most perfect synthesis of all of the great stuff happening on this album: fluid solos, driving (but not hyperactive) grooves, virtuosic percussion, infectious enthusiasm, quirkiness, character, and lots of vocal whoops and yelps (which are very important to me).  He is not the sole stand-out by any means, though, as I was similarly taken with the songs by several other bands–particularly that of Lucho's chief rival, Alex Acosta.
Primary compiler Roberto Guymant contributes some alternately informative and amusingly hyperbole-filled liner notes, the latter of which I found extremely charming ("The first time I heard this track, my brain immediately melted out my ears and dribbled down my shirt.").  Even though I don't quite agree that Crescensio Camacho's trumpets are apocalyptic or that Los Seven Del Swing embody what Black Sabbath would have sounded like if they'd been raised on the Colombia coast, his enthusiasm is pretty contagious.  Also, he clearly knows what he is talking about both musically and historically, which is not easy when there are so many regional scenes and similar-sounding genres (to my non-Colombian ears) combining and mutating.  To give an example, I learned that the upper classes were scandalized when jazz and cumbia were first combined in the 1940s because it made young Colombians "dance like blacks."  Fortunately, the young people had a lot more influence on where their culture was headed than the wealthy, reactionary types.  Of course, as much as I love colorful anecdotes and uncomfortable cultural factoids, the most important thing of all is quality of the music and Roberto and his co-curators simply have great taste.  A few pieces are certainly too frenzied or locked-groove-sounding for my taste, but they are largely outnumbered by excellent ones.  This is a thoroughly fun and vibrant album.
With each project providing a side of the album (or half of a CD), the whole is a series of dark compositions that are as complex as they are intimidating. The best part, however, is how these nuanced pieces sound like no one else.
Mamiffer’s "Uncrossing" differs from their contribution on the split LP with Oakeater, focusing more on subtle textures and sparse, plaintive piano.The quiet background slowly becomes deeper and more cavernous, reverberating everything around it before dropping to silence, disrupted by a deep, echoing gunshot-like drum beat.
Soon the track builds again, bringing in a massive organ drone and a huge wall of scraping and grinding sounds over the disquieting rhythm.While the track on the Oakeater split reminded me of Skullflower, here it feels more like a denser, metal tinged take on Organum.While there’s more layers of sound here than David Jackman would usually include, the careful use of tone definitely resembles his work, in the best possible way.
Aaron Turner's House of Low Culture contributes "Ice Mole," with help from Z'EV on percussion.Opening with quiet static-y sounds and distant, menacing hums, Turner’s guitar becomes a prominent feature immediately, but changes its character throughout.Initially it drones along with his vocals, which are layered and off in the distance.
The piece builds into heavier, denser sounds that are stripped away to leave only quiet piano interludes before bringing back the static and guitar, with some more obvious metal percussion to be heard.The guitar builds to an overdriven, grinding fuzz before closing the song on more traditional guitar playing, letting delicate notes chime out in the open.
More than a decade into their career, the evolution of Natural Snow Buildings continues to surprise me: Waves of the Random Sea might be the most accessible album that Mehdi and Solange have released to date (in a good way, fortunately).  It might also be their masterpiece.  In any case, they've clearly made a lot of progress in broadening their palette of moods, as there is not much here that could be categorized as crushing, menacing, seething with dread, or oppressively sad.  Instead, this album occupies somewhat lighter, more spacious territory and is mostly filled with drone-tinged, temporally ambiguous acoustic folk instrumentals (albeit of the most lysergic and warped variety).  More importantly, it is absolutely amazing.  This is one of the most vibrant and multilayered albums that I have ever heard.
This is a very coherent and thoughtfully sequenced (double) album, something that Mehdi and Solange have become increasingly adept at in recent years.Waves of the Random Sea works quite nicely as a whole and it works equally well as two separate halves.  That separation of the two albums is even preserved on the CD version, as the third piece, "Breaches Through the Layers of Fog," concludes with roughly a minute of silence.  Interestingly, however, the two halves bisect quite differently on the CD and LP versions, with the brilliant first half of the album ending with either the post-coital-sounding warmth of "Breaches" (CD) or the disquieting, theremin-happy, sci-fi weirdness of "Abduction Dream."  There are some other differences between the two versions of the album as well, ranging from subtle editing and track length changes to an excellent LP-only drone piece entitled "Split Realm," which seems far more like an album highlight than a bonus track.
As alluded to earlier, the first half of this album approaches perfection. It may very well be the most consistently mesmerizing and beautiful forty-minute stretch in the entire Natural Snow Buildings discography.  "Waves of the Random Sea" begins the album with flanging drones and quivering swells before turning into a hypnotically repeating and surprisingly melodic acoustic guitar and tambourine interlude.  Those two motifs set the tone for the album's entire first half, which can best be summarized by saying that I feel like I am covertly witnessing a pagan/medieval/morbid fairy tale/ritualistic acoustic ensemble performing in a clearing in the woods while the very fabric of reality shudders and occasionally ruptures around them and a murder of nearby crows caws ominously.
Even that doesn't quite do it justice, however, as it fails to mention that Mehdi and Solange manage to sound like a full drum circle and a half dozen musicians wielding an eclectic array of tamburas and other stringed instruments playing together at once. Nor does it take into account that the production and layering throughout is quite stunning, as sounds seamless drift in and out of the mix and pan and shimmer hypnotically.  Or that the woozily twinkling coda of "Breaches Through the Layers of Fog" feels like waking up after a long beautiful dream.  There are also a number of great details that I could zero in on as well (like the increasingly prominent scrapes of a finger sliding from fret to fret in "Breaches"), but the important thing is that the first three songs constitute pure drone/psych heaven.
The second half, on the other hand, is merely great (although the added "Split Realm" evens the score a bit on the vinyl version).  The centerpiece here is the twenty-minute epic "Drift the Water Soul," which morphs into a prolonged bed of glistening, shuddering drone after an introduction that sounds like ceremony music for some sort of royal medieval procession.  One thing about the drone section that amazes is me is how alive and organic it feels–all the various components shiver, drift, and swell with such seamlessness that it is hard to remember that there are two actual people with instruments and a mixer weaving it all together.  Each sound seems intimately connected with every other sound and they all seem to react to subtle shifts around them.
"The Still Desert" concludes the album in much the same fashion, though it is nicely enhanced this time around by a complicated tapestry of cymbals, acoustic guitars, and pipes as well as a heartbreakingly strangled-sounding trumpet.  Again, an important CD/LP difference makes an appearance here, as the vinyl version slowly fades and shivers to a close, while the CD ends with brief and perversely sweet vocal piece by Mehdi in which he repeatedly assures me that my home is where I’m happy.  It's an unexpected way to end the album, but a very effective one: by the end of Waves of the Random Sea, I feel like I have just returned to reality after a very long and weird journey.  I've not sure that I'm necessarily happy that I am back, but it is nice to have some time to process what I just experienced.
Assessing the superiority of the vinyl vs. the CD version is thankfully made quite easy by the fact that Solange's cover art is characteristically striking and better appreciated in larger form.  However, both albums are absolutely stellar–they're just a bit different.  Oddly, it took me a few listens to fully warm to this release, as I was initially startled by how comparatively "pastoral" it is at times.  It also seemed quite puzzling that Mehdi hardly sings at all and that there are no majestically dense drone passages.  However, the more I listen to the album, the more I find myself utterly baffled by my initial reaction.  The depth, complexity, focus, imagination, and ambition of this album are all pretty spectacular, even by Natural Snow Buildings standards.  Waves of the Random Sea is essential.  I love this.
Pairing one of Matthew Bower's newer projects with Jenks Miller’s minimalist metal band is a wise move for Turgid Animal, and this 10" delivers the expected amount of guitar-focused chaos from both artists.
Voltigeurs' side-long track "Dew Blest Adawning" seems to have more in common with Total than Skullflower, instantly launching into full bore noise and not relenting until the needle hits dead wax.Throughout the echoed din, it sounds like there's actual guitar and synth sounds there somewhere, but destroyed beyond all recognition.It's almost like there's a melody to be heard, but it's so fully immersed in distortion that it's only a fleeting glimpse.
Horseback does two tracks, and both are rather different but nicely show the old school drone by way of riff heavy metal sound Miller has been cultivating."High Ashen Slab" opens with rapid, live drums and a repetitive organ melody that are (of course) propelled by overdriven guitar riffs.The guttural metal vocals which I'm normally not fond of work well, placed in the mix more like another instrument than traditional singing.Carefully the guitars take over, becoming noisier and more prominent before ending in a hollow land of guitar noise and screamed vocals.
"Another World" goes to more traditional drone metal territory, mixing a processed melodic loop and a thin, pounding beat.It’s much more about texture, with less focus on big, heavy riffs or subtle melodies.Eventually the latter pops up towards the end, shining through the gray roar triumphantly.
Between the two, I’ve got to give the edge to Horseback, who has been consistently impressing me since hearing The Invisible Mountain (before it was on Relapse).With the almost '70s hard rock tinged "High Ashen Slab" and the disciplined textural noise of "Another World," Miller's strengths are clear.The Voltigeurs side is more than competent, but has less of an original sound in comparison, not separating itself drastically from other guitar noise bands.
Since the Afghan Whigs called it quits a decade ago, frontman Greg Dulli has been quietly releasing a stream of solid, occasionally fantastic albums with his current band, the Twilight Singers. Dulli's latest release is his first with the Singers since recording the Gutter Twins' debut with former Screaming Trees vocalist and frequent collaborator Mark Lanegan.
The moment I saw the cover art for Dynamite Steps, which echoes the grayscale, shadowy palette of 2003's Blackberry Belle (secretly Dulli's best album), my interest was piqued. Dulli has been making consistent music for 20 years, first with the Afghan Whigs' brand of cathartic 1990s alt-rock shot through with soul, now with the Twilight Singers' downtempo, back-alley blues. An enjoyable album from Dulli was a safe bet—I hoped for something more.
As can be expected, Dynamite Steps is not a reinvention or departure. It is Dulli-by-numbers, a master of his craft writing for his audience and sticking a little too close to his comfort zone. The highlights come early: propulsive, piano-driven opener "Last Night in Town" is one of the album's catchiest songs. Mark Lanegan contributes a somber vocal to "Be Invited," adding an effective dose of gravitas: it plays like a great, lost B-side from the Gutter Twins' slept-on Saturnalia. "Waves" is the album's most raucous moment, Dulli's strained vocals atop a bed of dissonant guitars and frantic drumming recalling "I'm Her Slave"-era Whigs. Dulli puts on a powerful live show, and songs like these are his bread and butter on stage—all palpable tension and release, rock and roll melodrama packed with sing-along choruses.
My favorite song, "On the Corner," shares its title with Miles Davis' 1972 jazz-funk masterstroke, likely not by coincidence—Dulli has referenced Davis before on the Whigs' "Miles Iz Ded" (and its remix "Rebirth of the Cool"), written immediately after his passing. "On the Corner" recalls its namesake's groove and pairs it with a couplet that stands out, halfway into an album overflowing with Dulli's trademark seedy lyrics: "All rise with me / all take your place." In between references to Gomorrah, desire, licked lips, spread legs, and dirty kisses, Dulli seems to hint at a desire for spiritual redemption. This theme, touched on at various points, is eventually put to rest on the album's closing track, "Dynamite Steps," which finds Dulli drawn back to earthly desires: "Some speak of a light / control of the game / but I leave the past alone... Push your faith aside... Your medicine is faith / and your flesh divine."
Ultimately, Dulli's work lives or dies by the strength of his songwriting, which is why Dynamite Steps doesn't rank with his best efforts. Consistency is an issue by the album's second half: the songs are mid-tempo, languid and not terribly engaging. Dulli sounds passionate at times, but I find my attention lost because the songs are monochromatic in pace and construction. A potential highlight turned sour, Ani DiFranco's vocal on "Blackbird and the Fox" is pleasant but unmemorable, and it's not for her lack of trying—"Blackbird" falters because it aches for, quite frankly, a hook of any sort. With key exceptions (see the Afghan Whigs' unbelievable "Faded"), slow-burning ballads are not Dulli's strength, so it's disappointing to hear Dynamite Steps resort to them after playing its best cards early.
Despite its flaws, Dynamite Steps is worth a listen with the caveat that, while strong in parts, it is not Greg Dulli's most consistent record with the Twilight Singers. I look forward to hearing its better songs fleshed out on stage as the Singers tour this year, but I may not revisit the album too frequently in the meantime.
With a title like "Tell the Bitch to Go Home," I was expecting something with a bit of clout from the opening piece and I was not disappointed. Feedback, surging organs and tight, powerful drumming come together to make a wild, happy explosion; there is a tingle along the back of my neck like the first time I heard Faust (Faust IV being the culprit in question) and I have fallen in love all over again with them. Not that I have ever stopped loving them, mind you. This excitement does not fade after the initial hit, it builds across Something Dirty as the band fully invades my mind. Many of the songs feel like loose jams rather than finished pieces; this is not a negative criticism at all as the end result is a collection of music alive with vibrancy and danger.
Of course, it would not be a Faust album without a few surprises or about turns. "Lost the Signal" is a slinky, sexy piece of work that sounds nothing like Faust and everything like Faust. Here, Geraldine Swayne takes over the vocal duties and feminises Faust’s music beautifully. Initially, the album’s title could be taken to refer to the noisiness of the music but Swayne’s singing and the euphoric moment where she shouts for the band to "Start it up!" points to something more carnal. Faust have never been strangers to the sweatier, saltier side of life but Something Dirty definitely has more swagger to it than any of their other releases. James Johnston may have left the Bad Seeds but Nick Cave obviously has left his mark on his guitar playing.
While I have yet to encounter a Faust album I have not liked, Something Dirty strikes me as being that bit more special than the last few releases by either version of Faust. I do not know whether it is because this is more accessible than usual or because the group have really found their groove but I do know that this is one of the strongest albums in their catalogue, a blood relative of other "pop hits" like the aforementioned Faust IV or even So Far. Something Dirty is a fling I want to have again and again.
Ghostly International presents SMM: Context as a vaguely philosophical release centered around the qualities that film soundtracks, classical music, and ambient music share, but I think its lack of pretense is part of what makes it great. On one level, SMM: Context is just a collection of eleven songs from eleven electronic artists, including Leyland James Kirby, Jacaszek, Aidan Baker, and Kyle Bobby Dunn. On another level, it's a very coherent and fluid record filled with beautiful songs and sustained by a shared vision.
Superficially, much of the music on SMM: Context is alike. None of the songs raise their voice beyond a roar, and nearly all of the artists use long, unhurried phrases to build their pieces. Most of the artists, like Leyland Kirby, Christina Vantzou, Goldmund—Keith Kenniff of Helios—Rafael Anton Irissarri, and Jacaszek also use or sample acoustic instruments, especially strings and voices, to mock up a Stars of the Lid or Angelo Badalamenti vibe, which is a decent way to describe most of the record. Beyond those qualities, however, SMM: Context is filled with a panoply of sounds, none of which can be reduced to a single reference or influence.
Christina Vantzou, from The Dead Texan, and Rafael Anton Irisarri also employ direct, gently played melodies over a bed of synthetic tones, but neither of them emphasize atmosphere in the same way. Nevertheless, they both use muted colors and simmering textures to produce romantic and cinematic sounds, just like Kirby. Jacaszek makes the best use of this approach, though; his "Elegia" is the most resplendent and decorated song on SMM: Context, and maybe the most beautiful thanks to the way he contrasts his melodies and noises. If Kirby, Vantzou, and Irisarri represent the cinematic tendencies of SMM artists, then Jacaszek represents the classical and symphonic ones.
Kyle Bobby Dunn is his austere counterpart. "Runge's Last Stand" features nothing in the way of conventional melodies or rhythms, and it is less reliant on diverse colors and acoustic instruments than the other songs on the album are. Using but a few diaphanous tones and textures, he manages to evoke the same kind of introverted and fleeting beauty that Jacaszek achieves. Both Aidan Baker and Manual follow the same path, but neither of them can contend with Kyle's liminal spaces and rarefied phrases. He chases Morton Feldman's sound and gets part of the way there; next to that Baker and Manual can't help but sound a little heavy-handed.
Even though SMM: Context proceeds in a seamless way, SMM as a genre doesn't make much sense to me. If Ghostly International wants to facilitate the breaking down of musical boundaries, it can do so without putting yet another folder in the genre filing cabinet; SMM is an acronym they made up in the first place, and it doesn't even stand for anything. Why force all of these artists into a fabricated musical bubble when I can't even put my finger on one quality that they all uniformly share?
Ghostly International might have just gotten lucky with SMM: Context; it has eleven very good songs made by eleven very talented people, and all of them share enough of the same spirit to fit comfortably on the same record. In this case, so much of the music is just so beautiful and direct that I don't care if it's called classical, symphonic, minimal, or something even more abstract and unhelpful, like SMM.
For their third LP for Sublime Frequencies, the group has put together a stunning collection of trance-inducing works. Yet, there are two things that set Beatte Harab apart from Group Doueh’s previous albums. The recording quality is a step above the others: granted the overall quality is not high fidelity but gone is the murk so all the instruments and singers can be heard distinctly. Secondly, Doueh himself has moved more into the background. His deft touch of the fretboard is undiminished but he confines himself to the back of the mix, his playing developing the overall shape of the music without dominating the other performers.
The album is mainly given over to the vocals which sound superb compared to some of the distorted recordings on the earlier LPs. Halima Jakani’s voice still manages to send my speakers into contortions; her singing sounding more impassioned on the title track (a version of which also appeared on the group’s previous album). Throughout Beatte Harab Jakani stands out compared to the other elements of the music; her voice silhouetted by the rest of Group Doueh.
That is not to say that the other musicians are relegated to a mere backing band. On "Kar Lakhaal," Doueh leads them through a fantastic instrumental piece that starts off contemplative and controlled but soon sprouts wings to fly into directions unknown. Leaving down his electric guitar for the tinidet (a banjo-like instrument), the music on Beatte Harab has a very different character to what I have heard previously from Doueh and his players. When not using electric guitar and easing up on the synthesisers that punctuated their other releases, it highlights how little Group Doueh deviates from traditional forms. While this is still a terrific album, for the most part I would be unable to guess it was Group Doueh without the album sleeve in front of me.
However, the classic Doueh sound turns up from time to time; Doueh’s fretwork on "Lehi Teyilu" being a particularly stunning example of his skill. Listening to such exquisite musicianship throughout Beatte Harab, I repeatedly imagine how this music must sound live. It is not a huge stretch considering all of the Group Doueh recordings seem to be one take. I know they are about to embark on a tour of the UK but opening up the gatefold sleeve and seeing a gorgeous photo (perhaps a video still?) of the audience during a Group Doueh performance in what I must assume is the Western Sahara, I cannot help but wish to be dropped smack bang in the middle of it all. It is a bit like listening to old bootlegs of The Velvet Underground or Throbbing Gristle, strange as it may seem. This is music very much born out of a landscape and a culture that cannot be fully appreciated when transplanted out of its environment. Yet equally I wonder if the mystery also adds to the experience, whether the evocative photos that line the sleeves create a world in my mind that is not really out there.
In any case, being able to hear this music at all is something to be thankful for as Group Doueh continues to inspire awe and delight. Hopefully, Sublime Frequencies do not tarry when it comes to putting out the CD of this (for the time being) vinyl only release. As lovely as the LPs are, Group Doueh deserve a bigger audience than the limited edition vinyl crowd.