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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Staubgold Recorded in Australia in 2001, this CD is further documentation of what is now a frequent collaboration. It's essentially an old-school guitar drone record, but with a modern, digital edge. The four tracks, which I'd guess were extracted from a single improvised session, add up to 45 minutes of reasonably novel dark ambience. Of dead-guitar godfather Rowe's techniques, those evident here include the use of a hand-held electric fan, brushing the strings of his guitar, and live radio mixing. As for Ambarchi's contributions, I'll admit to hoping for some of the fresher, emotionally neutral sounds of his breakthrough release 'Suspension'. But at least there's his trademark bell-tone drones and subtle use of digital effects. 'Flypaper' manages to construct an atmosphere that's undeniably engaging: the gently handled strings clunk and rattle in a concrete foreground narrative, in firm contrast to the thick, soupy drones beneath. The dynamic duo's dramatic improvisational timing also helps provide some oustanding moments. But nonetheless 'Flypaper' sounds a bit hackneyed. When we have Keith Whitman, Christian Fennesz, and Ambarchi himself proving that experimental guitar doesn't always have to be so grimly post-industrial, then even such an accomplished recording as this will sound like a blast from the early nineties.
The limitations of the 7" single medium dictates that songs need to be brief and to-the-point. While this seems like a confining space to work in for a group who has a reputation for lengthy drones, Windy & Carl have actually been doing this for years. 'Introspection' is the first career-spanning evolutionary tour guide of the Dearborn duo, chronologically arranged in triplicate.
Meticulously divided, disc one collects various singles and EPs, disc two collects compilation tracks, and disc three gathers live and unreleased songs. Windy & Carl's music has always been one of my personal faves for curling up with something good to read and this time they've provided something extra to read along with. The accompanying booklet contains descriptions of nearly every song along with images of covers, concert flyers, and various candid photos. To hear the evolution wrapped up in three +70 minute segments is fascinating. Windy's voice is a dead ringer (no pun intended) for Nico on some of the earliest tracks, like "Watersong," while Carl's guitar work and production seems plain when compared to songs only a couple years later like "Smeared." By 1995/1996, (the Chrismtas single) the duo show a clear turning point, Windy's voice finding its space and the addition of delicately layered other sounds. Whether they're bell-like percussives, low-end bass, acoustic or electric guitars, the sound never strayed from the delicate, almost pure beauty that has always been there. Unsurprisingly, longer songs flourish on the second two discs, including some of their finest moments like the indescribably stunning "Marble Dream," the love song, "Fuzzy," and "Near and Far," from their split single with Amp. Live moments are carefully chosen from both concert venues and radio sessions while some studio recordings offer a glimpse of how songs evolve—like the alternate version of the song for the 'After the Flood' album and the cassette version of "Xmas Song." Three discs worth of music doesn't compile all of their non-LP material, but it sure is enough to digest for now.
The Legendary Pink Dots might be the best-kept secret of the independent music scene. The band has been playing together for more than 20 years without a single brush with the mainstream, occupying a nebulous space between gothic rock, the avant-garde, progressive rock, the "esoteric" and psychedelic rock. Too goth for the indie fans and too rock for the apocalyptic folk, the Pink Dots have fallen into an odd little niche where few are familiar with them and even magazines like The Wire seem unaware of their existence. It is said that the best environment for artists to produce great work is one in which no one gives a damn, and this could certainly be true for the Pink Dots. Over the course of their career, they have produced a huge catalog of worthwhile music, much of it totally out of step with its time, and always shot through with boundless experimentation and amazingly original soundworlds.Cacoicavallo & ROIR
The new simultaneous release of these two brand-new, full-length studio albums is certainly no exception. For longtime listeners of the Dots, it is a welcome return into the beautiful dread of Edward Ka-Spel's idiosyncratic poetry, Silverman's kaleidoscopic synths, Niels van Hoornblower's weaving flutes and Martijn de Kleer's swirling, effects-laden strings. 'All the King's Horses' and 'All the King's Men' mark a sort of turning point for the band. After losing drummer/guitarist/bassist Ryan Moore (of Twilight Circus Dub Sound System), the Dots have made a clear and deliberate step back from the heavy progressive rock influence of the last couple albums. The lack of live drumming has brought more programmed beats and drum machine back into the mix, and along with it an emphasis on more minimal, eerie compositions. Additionally, the violin solos of mid-80's albums like 'The Golden Age' and 'The Lovers' are back, in a somewhat more subtle form. This material bears more in common with Ka-Spel's solo albums, or early Pink Dots albums such as 'The Tower' than the fuzzy, psyched-out prog of recent albums like 'Nemesis Online' and 'A Perfect Mystery'. Ka-Spel has obviously been affected by the events of September 11th and their dismaying shockwaves throughout the globe. His visions are even more apocalyptic than usual, with songs about war being waged by fools, abandoning the earth for happier worlds, and even a jaunty number about being cryogenically frozen. What always impresses me about Ka-Spel is his ability to endlessly recycle his many familiar lyrical obsessions over the course of his work, but always juxtapose them in a way that add fresh new insight. For those who are well versed in Ka-Spel's symbolic language, these albums will be a catharsis, as the themes are explored in more painstaking detail than ever before. 'All the King's Men' is the quieter of the two albums, with many of the songs only consisting of minimal keyboard melodies and Edward's deep intonations. The dizzying psychedelic studio effects usually present on LPD albums has been toned down to some very subtle flourishes that are all the more affecting for their subtlety. Over the course of the first eight tracks, this minimalism begins to wear a tad thin, but then we are rescued by the last two songs—the title track and "The Brightest Star", by far the highlights of 'Men', where Niels and Martijn reappear for two lengthy instrumentals. "The Brightest Star" is a masterpiece, representing the most awe-inspiring epic track by the Dots since "Evolution". Clocking in at 13 minutes, this last track is an ecstatic, house-influenced psychedelic jam that succeeds in lifting me into orbit every time I hear it. Silverman's trance-inducing beat programming merges with Ka-Spel's swirling synths, Martijn's breathtaking violin swells, and Hoornblower's mindbending electronic saxophone blasts. This track alone (the Pink Dots' current "grand finale" song on their US tour), is worth the price of the album. 'Horses' doesn't have any one song approaching the genius of "The Brightest Star" on it, but overall is a much more consistent listen than 'Men'. Guitars and horns are present throughout the album, and the songs are more fully fleshed-out and produced. It's also a tad less cynical and dark than its sister album, with more of Ka-Spel's trademark humor coming through. "Lisa Goes Surfing" is an amusing track, with it's pleading refrain of "freeze me" as Ka-Spel reveals his desire for cryogenic freezing upon his death. These creepy, funny lyrics are set against a whimsical pastiche on medieval court music. No Pink Dots album would be complete without at least one lovely, plaintive ballad. "Our Dominion" fills the bill quite nicely, with its melancholy lyrics and lovely, acoustic arrangements. The album closes with "Wax and Feathers", a lengthy song with a breathtaking vocal by Ka-Spel, and a wonderful solo by Hoornblower. The song eventually culminates in an ambient, spacey excursion that beautifully concludes the album. 'All the King's Horses' and 'All the King's Men' are an impressive pair of albums by the greatest band that no one's ever heard of.
As part of Aaron Turner's (Isis, Greymachine, and Hydra Head Records) new Sige label, this split vinyl captures both the look and feel of classic noise LPs, right down to the hand-stamped labels and lo-fi inserts. The aesthetic carries over to the sound as well, with both artists contributing tracks that share a creepy, heavy sound that joins the best of metal and harsh noise.
Oakeater’s side, "Iron Road II" begins with a melodic hum that becomes more prominent as it goes on, with added strings and guitar notes.Eventually the guitar accompanies a piano, creating a somber sound that is buried in a hazy reverb.The melancholy sound is interrupted by slow scrapes of harsh noise, cutting through like a rusty knife to leave pure malevolence.The melodic sound dies out, leaving silence alternated with monstrous, guttural voices and scraped metals that sound like they’re coming from a dark sewer, before ending on pained voices and raw noise.
Mammifer's contribution on the flip side is comparably lighter, but only relative to Oakeater's track."Fake Witch" initially mixing wobbly, chiming guitar notes and careful feedback, the song quickly builds to a dense mix.With the increasingly noisy guitar taking on a psychedelic quality, I definitely felt a bit of Skullflower's presence.Lower, bassy roars show up to balance out the higher frequency guitars, and it becomes a battle between the lighter, open ambient tones and the guitar noise gutter.The fluctuation from light to dark and back again builds to cinematic intensity before everything pulls away, leaving an odd, but beautiful coda of piano, static, and guitar feedback.
The old school sensibilities that abound on this release gave me more than a twinge of nostalgia, bringing up high school memories of unpacking noise LPs ordered from Relapse Records, sometime with absolutely no knowledge of what they’d sound like other than recognizing the name or seeing cool cover art.Thankfully the sound on the vinyl emulates those occasional brilliant purchases that I still spin to this day, well over a decade later.
Functioning quite well as a current statement of what the 12k label is focusing on artistically, this disc features five artists associated with the label performing live from a recent Japanese tour, and the results showcase the variety and nuance of this niche of electronic music.
The two performances that bookend this disc seem to have a sense of conceptual unity, following similar paths but really sounding nothing like each other.Minamo open not with minimalism, but a wide sonic palette, merging untreated acoustic guitar with subtle electronic loops that command attention, but not aggressively so.The piece unfolds slowly, merging expansive electronic tones with guitar strums and rhythmic loops, all of which becomes overshadowed by crashing metallic sounds, noisy static and feedback, ending the piece far more abrasive than it began.
The closing piece by label head Taylor Deupree feels similar in approach to Minamo’s performance, but rather than guitar or loops, there are layers of decaying textures and delicate, soft melodies that propel the piece, constantly putting layers of weathered sound above pure, light melodies, and the occasional, very subtle, rhythmic clicking.
Australian duo Solo Andata take an opposite mood in their performance, focusing on darker, heavy textures that reverberate over massive, looming aquatic swells of sound.It’s not like dark ambient or anything meant to instill fear, but has a murkier quality to the performance, especially compared to the bright and delicate music around them.
The joint performance of Sawako and Hofli exemplifies this fragile beauty:Sawako’s delicate singing and use of field recordings are mixed with acoustic guitar and restrained, shimmering sonic textures.The duo implement a variety of subtle electronics that keep the performance dynamic, ending with Sawako’s signature field recordings.
Moskitoo provide the most diverging offering here, initially mixing glitchy loops and 8 bit noise textures, occasionally throwing in what sounds like a yard sale procured cheap Casio keyboard.This mostly chaotic mix suddenly gains form, coming together in a rhythmic track that, with its voice fragments and unconventional tones, sounds like a pop song from another universe, following traditional conventions but turning them completely around.
The thematic unity of these performances can be heard easily:restrained use of electronics and the juxtaposition of delicate textures and acoustic instrumentation to develop an electronic based sound that eschews genre conventions for something unique, and brilliant.
I never quite understood the popularity of Pocahaunted and I was pretty underwhelmed by the LA Vampires/Zola Jesus collaboration last year, so I figured it was pretty safe to conclude that Amanda Brown's artistry just wasn't for me.  However, a helpful acquaintance recently sent me a link to this very amusing and heavily stylized video and I now realize that I was far too premature in my dismissal. So Unreal twists pop music into something truly weird, wonderful, and unique during its strongest moments despite being somewhat inconsistent and a bit narrow.
Brown and her ingenious co-conspirator Sam Meringue (Matrix Metals) seem to have an intuitive understanding of some very important truths that many underground/experimental musicians tend to overlook.  For example, bleeps, bloops, burbles, squiggles, tape manipulations, and general mindfuckery are a hell of a lot more appealing when they are couched within a song that also offers a strong hook or a cool groove.  Also, innovative music can still be kitschy, fun, and sexy. So Unreal offers all of those things, which makes it (mostly) an instantly gratifying and memorable effort despite the fact that much of it sounds so aggressively wrong.  Everything sounds warped, submerged, slowed down, deliberately plodding, too muddy, or too trebly:  the overall aesthetic seems to be "sun-warped '80s pop record (probably the 12" remix version) misremembered through a fog of barbiturates." Dub is also a strong reference point though, particularly in the bass lines, faux-horns, and the duo's fondness for panning and other studio enhancements.
However, the alchemy involved in making something likable out of a stew of deliberately warped sounds, lumbering/dated drum machine beats, and cheesy factory synthesizers is quite complicated and puts a lot of pressure on Brown's languid, heavily reverbed vocals to carry the songs.  They're not always up to the task (the opener "Make Me Over" falls pretty flat, for example), but her hit-to-miss ratio is fairly high for someone who probably never expected to be pretending that she is a sultry pop diva.  I was also very impressed at how well her lyrics fit the music, as the repeated "is it the champagne talking?" in "Berlin Baby" perfectly captures the "jaded and dissolute in an imagined '80s LA" feel of the music.  "Freak me and I’ll freak you back" is another particularly endearing couplet.  I'm sure there are more that I have not discovered yet.
The entire album is a bit much to take in one dose, given the limited palette, poor sound quality, and emphasis of style over substance, yet there are some extremely cool individual songs.  I was most fond of the lazily sinuous groove of the title piece, but "How Would U Know?" is also pretty spectacular–the underlying music kind of sounds like Wham's "Everything She Wants" being played at the wrong speed (which is a compliment, of course).  This is definitely a creative breakthrough for Brown–it is a welcome surprise to hear an aesthetic perfectly captured that I hadn't even imagined existing yet (early Bret Easton Ellis meets Hypnagogic Pop?).  I am converted.
On my first time listening through Radiant Intervals, I was concerned that whatever magic Eleh was channeling previously, the source was fading. What was once rich in detail and emotional warmth had become cold and clinical. Yet, this was a hasty and trying the music again and again, I find the tones enveloping me like a cocoon. Considering this music cold was a mistake but it is clinical in a different sense to the usual critical context of the word. It is clinical in a restorative, healing way.
"Night of Pure Energy" is busier than what I usually expect from Eleh; the overlapping low frequency waves are joined by a rumbling beat and a higher tinnitus-like ringing noise. The whole piece sounds like the impossibly endless decay of bells struck before the recording took place. Just at the point when I become lost in the shimmering haze, what at first appears to be a pressing error on the LP breaks the mood suddenly. This scratchy sound, reminiscent of surface noise, allows the piece to disintegrate and for "Death is Eternal Bliss" to begin.
Like the previous piece, this too is centered around unusual harmonics and the beatings between the different frequencies but it takes a very different direction as it progresses. The beatings take on an inviting character, coming close to very, very minimal techno. The obvious touch point in Eleh’s catalog is their side of the split with Ellen Fullman (reviewed last week) and I wonder if Eleh is moving away from the more conventional classical minimalism of previous recordings.
The second side of Radiant Intervals is given up to two more pieces, neither of which repeat the ideas of the first side. "Bright & Central as the Sun Itself" sounds like the output of a mass spectrometer looks: thin, distinct bands of color (or in this case, sound) unique to the element being tested. Mass spectrometry was used to identify one of the main components of the sun, helium (the first element to be found in space before being later found on earth). Like helium, this music is lighter than air and it almost floats through the atmosphere. Suddenly, the individual frequencies coalesce into a body of sound that begins to spin under its own gravity like the furnace at the center of a solar system.
"Measuring the Immeasurable" seems to be born out the nuclear fusion of the previous piece; an increase in complexity as the gravity at the center of Eleh’s music begins to do its work. An arpeggio comes out of nowhere, as striking as landing on Mars and being greeted by someone you already know. This develops into the warmest, gentlest drone I have ever heard and how I thought this was cold during my initial listening session is beyond me!
As Radiant Intervals comes to a close for yet another time, it strikes me at how such "simple" music can be in eliciting a powerful emotional response. Throughout the album, feelings of calm permeate my mind. It is almost like a cleansing of thoughts; Eleh is a meditation music machine (although that sounds like a new age nonsense, there is certainly more mechanical elements in Eleh’s work compared to artists who evoke similar feelings like Pauline Oliveros or La Monte Young). Indeed, this use of focused drone music to initiate a change in mental state has been central to Eleh since the beginning; even before hearing the music, we only need to read the titles to realize that. Now Eleh has become the master in the approach to using a limited palette of frequencies to create such vivid, moving music.
This solo debut initially had me pretty baffled, as it is stylistically all over the map and bears little resemblance to Manley's previous work with Trans Am and The Fucking Champs.  There is a perfectly logical explanation, however, as Life Coach is intended as a homage to the work of legendary German producer Connie Plank.  Of course, the fact that Phil is essentially attempting to pay tribute to the entire krautrock canon on a single album is probably even more baffling still (as well as inherently doomed), but he has the instrumental and engineering prowess to at least make an intermittently impressive show of it.
The element of Plank's work that most fascinates Manley is his attention to Klangfarben, which translates directly as "tone color," but more specifically means the nuances that give a tone its individuality.  For example, the same chord played on one guitar through one amp will sound different than the same chord played through another configuration.  As such, a lot of Phil's effort went into finding the right gear and recording equipment for getting exactly the clear, vintage sounds he wanted with as little interference from amplification and processing as possible.  In fact, it seems like maybe a bit too much effort may have been spent in search of the perfect timbres and textures, as the actual songs (while pleasant) aren't always substantial enough to make much of an impact.  People who get excited about great production or analog synthesizers will find a lot to be thrilled about, but the opportunities for delight are a bit more limited for those of us who don't care whether he used a Crumar Orchestrator or not.
The album's shortcomings are especially frustrating because Phil gets so much right: Life Coach is lively, melodic, and well arranged and he nails all of the key krautrock tropes without fail.  Unfortunately, not everything from that period has aged particularly well and Manley has a tendency towards brevity and simplicity that prevents many of his songs from effectively taking hold.  Also, there is one song ("Gay Bathers") that is just genuinely dreadful–while mercifully brief, it bears a very unfortunate resemblance to the "uplifting" closing credit music on Intervention.
Nevertheless, there are some notable successes too.  The album's definite highlight (and longest piece) is "Night Visions," a slowly unfolding and looping guitar piece that shares a lot of common ground with the excellent solo work of Emerald's Mark McGuire (no surprise, as they no doubt share many of the same influences).  There are some important differences though, as Manley's take on that sort of thing is much more minimal and meticulous than McGuire's and relies much less on escalating density. Some of the other highlights are the languid synth bliss of "Forest Opening Theme" and the odd "Commercial Potential,"which somehow seems to make '60s-style instrumental rock sound brooding and cinematic.  Many of the other pieces have their appealing traits as well, but suffer from over-brevity, underdevelopment, or simply lack of strong character.  Also, the opening "FT2 Theme" shows that the line separating "anthemic Neu! pastiche" from "music that could be from a mid-'80s aerobics video" is a very blurry and subjective one.
Life Coach has some moments of inspiration and a few good songs, but I would have liked it a lot more if Manley had been less conspicuously chameleonic. Acknowledging influences is certainly laudable and this album arguably works fairly well as a tribute/experiment (and a rather ambitious one at that), yet I am ultimately left with the feeling that I still have no idea what Phil Manley trying to sound like Phil Manley might sound like.
As with most Severed Heads releases, Cuisine has cycled through a few different record labels and track lists, but most of the important things have remained relatively constant.  However, the appended Piscatorial EP was regrettably absent from the original cassette version.  That is unfortunate, as its inclusion is essential to the album's overall charm, concluding the skewed, beat-driven songs of the main album with a plunge into a rabbit hole of deep weirdness.
Central to Cuisine's appeal is the simple fact that Ellard wrote a handful of brief, punchy, and sometimes quite excellent "pop" songs, but was still quite happy to derail them with anachronistic or mischievous surprises. It is a combination that works quite well. Naturally, given that this electronic music was made using the technology of 20 years ago, some of the beats and synth parts sound rather dated at times, but several of the songs are solid enough to transcend that: for example, the stripped-down and spectral "Ugly Twenties" still sounds as vital as ever today.  Weirdly, it is probably the most straightforward song on the album, making it an unexpected favorite for me.  Many of the similarly melodic and propulsive songs on the album are far more traditionally "Severed Heads," such as the cut-up, pitch-shifted voices in "Pilot in Hell," or the "out-of-control bagpipe ensemble" and "malfunctioning film projector" sounds in "Goodbye." Such distinctly Ellard-ian touches also serve to elevate the pieces where the songwriting isn't as strong, like the striking fiddle loop interlude in "Golden Height/I'm Your Antidote" or the haunting singing sample in "The Tingler."  Those touches are why I love this album–even its clunkiest and clumsiest moments might be interrupted by something totally unexpected or sublimely beautiful.
Piscatorial is the icing on the cake (for me anyway), though it probably seems like a perverse endurance test for those drawn to Severed Heads' catchier side, as it evinces an incredible zeal for endless repetition with slow and subtle variation.  Fortunately, anyone who can make it through the relentlessly insistent children's song-sampling piece "Kangaroo Skippy Roo" or the obsessively looping phase-shift experiment of "Quest for Oom Pa Pa" is treated to one of the greatest pieces that Ellard ever recorded: "Wonder of all the World."  Oddly, it sticks to the tireless repetition and heavy reliance on loops that characterized its predecessors, but keeps things extremely focused and minimal.  In fact, there are only two conspicuous parts: a melancholy string snippet appropriated from a classical piece and the sung phrase "wonder of all the world."  The magic lies in what Ellard does with those simple materials, as he warps and slows down the vocalist in supremely unsettling and ghostly fashion.
There has never been an album by Nina Nastasia I didn't like. Sure, I have my favorites, and on those my favorite songs, but I've never been disappointed. I also know what to expect in terms of her songwriting, which is always exceptional. The formula and style haven't varied much from record to record, though different elements are often accentuated. What I do notice is a steady refinement and ever increasing mastery of subtle details. Her introspective lyrics continue to explore the territories of friendship, love, longing, and loss, and her strong and powerfully feminine voice continues to elucidate deep emotional responses from within me.
Part of the consistency from album to album comes from the great working relationship she has with engineer Steve Albini. All of her albums are suffused with the distinctive warmth he is able to magically extract from all the instruments, especially the strings. Drummer Jim White, of Dirty Three fame, has also contributed expert percussive rhythms to a number of her records. White doesn’t make an appearance on Outlaster but the drums are just as deftly employed by Jay Bellerose. The entire set up across these ten songs is unique, as she works with a string quartet, a wind quartet, and a trio. Paul Bryan who plays piano and electric bass in the trio was also responsible for the conducting and arrangements of the songs. Sometimes the addition of orchestral elements can make a record bombastic and overbearing. This is certainly not the case here. All the components are married together perfectly.
The disc opens with the elegiac "Cry, Cry Baby," beginning with soft strumming and gentle voice. Bluegrass infused cello bowing underscore is given a moment to shine by itself, before she sings out "you're my only true love" while the violins soar into the higher registers, the electric guitar whispering quiet lines along the edge of the song. Nina is great at writing short songs, often having several on an album that clock in at under two minutes. For all their brevity, they are often the most poignant and powerful of all. I think of them as extended haikus, rich with imagery that burns in a powerful flash. "Moves Away" is such a song, her energetic voice spinning a commanding melody.
The rhythm and pacing of the words bleeds over into the next song, the string quartet conjuring up motifs from previous songs. The joy for me on "You're a Holy Man," however, is delicate flourishes of the quick French horn which place the song in another orbit. It is hard to pick a favorite piece but when I'm not listening to the album straight through, I return to "You Can Take Your Time," which would be a good choice for a mix tape or to play as part of a radio set. It gives me the shivers, especially verses like, "do you think I judge you / tell me how it looks to love you / I am not a stranger / I know you well."
"The Familiar Way" has an enjoyable flamenco flair, recalling similar elements in the work of Matt Elliott on albums like Failing Songs and Howling Songs. In the lyrics she references her own previous masterpiece The Blackened Air, an album that has held up considerably well over the years. Things reach a midway climax on the following "What's Out There," where the string section collapses at one point into a frittering display of plucking, effectively capturing the sound of broken clocks, and jarring springs. The second to last song, "One Way Out," is another brilliant short tune: the lyrics are minimal but her voice is most gorgeous and tender at this point, demonstrating the great range she is capable of. The title track tops things off with a wondrous evocation of sailing across the sea. It starts with cymbal taps that are almost imperceptibly ring modulated. The wind section is sonorous, as if the exhaled air of the players is tinkling the caressing strings of bells. Things fade out in a peaceful lull.
There is an obvious sense of isolation, both overt and implied, within this album. As a young composer in the culturally restricted country of Iran, the hushed textures and quiet moments feel forbidden, and therefore all the more attractive to hear. In addition, the quiet, meditative passages are occasionally broken up by sharp, loud outbursts that magnify sense of paranoia in listening to the proceedings.
Utilizing just field recordings, software, and live mixing, A Hidden Place is a dynamic album despite its sparse nature."Susanna" hides grimy, treated percussive loops below time worn hums and reverberations, burying what would otherwise be boisterous sounds in blankets of quiet.The rhythms take on a flanged, aquatic character as icy melodies rise to the surface to become the focus.
"Somebody" also uses sparse, treated field recordings that sound as if they were collected in secret, with what sounds like distant prayer chants clearly setting the mood in which this was recorded.Voices appear, somewhat overtly, towards the middle of the piece, conveying a feeling of being questioned by some draconian authority."Pedagogicheskaya Poema" demonstrates this at its most jarring, with subtle, simple sounds constructed into beautiful micromelodies, creating a hypnotic swell that is violently interrupted by a squealing blast of noise, making the implied tension overt.
Organ like bells open "Himmel Uber Tehran" above a rhythmic backdrop of reversed static bursts and clear, digital chimes that take command, once again providing a warm, inviting glow. This is snuffed in the title track as layers of oppressive, but brittle noise cover everything, with the occasional snapping or crackling outburst to be heard.Just as the noise retreats, yelled voices appear, again making the underlying tension tangible.
As the B side ends on "Zarrin," there is a sense of relief that the remaining treated and stretched melodies give.Under a layer of heavy vinyl surface noise, the melodies twist and curve into one another without any harsh outbursts. The pensive, melancholy tones sound like they’re coming off an old LP that has been passed around in secrecy for years.
I have always felt that conceptual music, or works created within a specific context, should function well in a vacuum…meaning that they should still be compelling without knowledge of where, when, or why they were created.A Hidden Place accomplishes that, as there is a lot of hushed beauty and frightening outbursts to be heard.Knowing the conditions in which Sohrab created this, it only adds to the power of this recording, making it fascinating on multiple levels.