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).
Get involved: subscribe, review, rate, share with your friends, send images!
Originally composed for five channel video installations by artist Byron Westbrook (who has worked with the likes of Rhys Chatham and Phill Niblock), the four pieces that make up this album stand strongly on their own as a traditional two channel listening experience. Based upon a variety of pre-recorded and live sources, some of which were weaved together to create singular works, the results often show little semblance of their original forms and become something else entirely.
The four works on this album were all composed in distinctly different ways.The first piece was a live studio improvisation for trumpet, guitar and autoharp that was then mangled and processed live for performance.Opening with delicate, shimmering sounds and soft currents of tone, the piece eventually segues into louder, more commanding passages, but never becomes too much.Bits that resemble sustained notes on a violin or cello arise towards the end, but are obviously not actually there.However, what might be the forceful notes of a trumpet almost seem recognizable towards the end, but that could be a complete fabrication of my mind.
The second track is comprised of two different performances using only guitar feedback that are molded into a completely different sonic character, though at times the unmistakable squall of guitar noise seems to be irrepressible.The piece emphasizes the subtle elements of feedback, focusing on the hum that builds into noise.Undulating, rhythmic elements appear, as does an overarching sense of restrained heaviness…the intensity we all associate with a blast of feedback is there, but kept at bay like a wild animal.
The two remaining pieces were built from a total of five performances, all utilizing processed recordings of viola, organ, and found sounds.Interestingly, but unsurprisingly, both go in extremely different directions.The first of these two pieces has an overall more abrasive feeling, with crackling sounds and machinery like textures.It’s quiet, but there is a consistent stuttering metallic din to be heard that slowly builds in intensity.Of the entire album, this is probably the weakest piece in my opinion, simply because it is rather monochrome and heavily focused on repetition.
The second, however, is the only one here in which the true sounds of the source material can actually be heard.Opening with a digitally reassembled passage of viola, it then leads into mostly untouched heavy organ sounds, with delicate strings to accompany it.The processing elements here are far more subtle:towards the second half it is mostly just used to stretch the more traditional tones out to infinity, creating an enveloping mass of sound that eventually goes out like a lamb, ending on the smallest of sounds.
While there is definitely an overarching concept of using and reusing live performances in a live context, this is a strong piece of audio even without any knowledge of how it was created.While personally I would have enjoyed being able to hear a true five channel mix of these installations at home, this stereo version is still enough to satisfy.
Recorded just towards the end of the career, the Philadelphia noise rock trio ends up departing on a definite up note. This four track EP is an exemplary one, capturing both the surly, filth driven noise scuzz with the melodic, '80s death rock leanings that vocalist John Sharkey would carry over to his current Puerto Rico Flowers project.
There almost seems to be a bit of intentional obscurity in the structure of the disc, with the opening and closing tracks being very in-line with 2007's Babylon Rules and all its grimy punk violence, while the two sandwiched in the middle are much more melodic in nature, almost like the band was a bit apprehensive of this "softer side" being heard initially.The opening "Pissing At The Moon" is, therefore, not unexpected in the least for anyone who knows Clockcleaner.Crawling along at a snail's pace with sharp, trashy metallic drums and a basic repeating guitar rhythm, Sharkey's voice is up front, bring along the dramatic monotone style that is the obvious result of hearing every worthwhile goth band of the 1980s.
The closer, "Midnight Beach," channels the trio's industrial heritage with the rapid fire drums and random percussion sounds thrown around with reckless abandon.Between that and the distorted, bass led opening and outbursts of guitar squall, there's more than a hint of Swans and Big Black to be found, of course with the requisite deadpan vocals.
Squeezed between these two blood and shit covered outbursts are two songs that show a very different Clockcleaner sound."Chinese Town" uses ragged high pitched guitar and simple, plodding drums, but opens up with dramatic flourishes of sound that is the very definition of the sum being greater than the parts.In addition, the presence of what at least resembles a guitar solo and actual moments of melody in the vocals, rather than the morose, autistic approach that’s usually utilized creates a song that’s definitely catchier than the usual audio abuse.Lyrics like "Everyone I have ever loved is sleeping in the ground" keep it grounded in familiar territory, however.
"Something's On Her Mind" pushes those barriers even more, with a guitar sound that screams "new wave" at the onset, more actual singing, and a sense of propulsion that is quite different than the usual zombie death march.Even some of the grime is stripped away, to the point where it sounds almost "normal," although with old school demo tape aesthetics.This feels like the jumping off point that lead to Puerto Rico Flowers, with its slightly less morbid feel and catchier songs.
As far as "final albums" go, Clockcleaner at least went out on top of their game, pleasing fans with familiar material while still dabbling in new realms, and not simply shatting something out to cash in on any sort of legacy.While it's always sad to hear a band I like ceasing to exist, at least it is a strong, memorable exit from this world.
While I have always associated Shiflet with his harsher noise output, his work goes much deeper than that, and this self-released album demonstrates his versatility. His synthesis of harsh noise, droning textures, and hidden melodies showcases a careful equilibrium that he retains throughout.
Shiflet is also known for his graphic design work (he's responsible for the iconic continuity of recent Intransitive Records releases), so it's not surprising that his audio works retain a similar sense of care and restraint to his visual arts, pushing boundaries but with the caution and consideration of an artist.This is even more overt on Llanos, as he juggles three different, often disparate styles seemingly with ease.
The opening "Antrim" exemplifies this, mixing a chirping mechanical drone, buried, stuttering guitar melodies, and a bit of raw noise that never reaches an abrasive point.It’s a beautiful combination, with the static drone elements, the dynamic melodies, and the chaos of noise living together in perfect harmony.
The long "Pink Meadow" uses its duration to create a more diverse composition, slowly building up from filtered static into subtle changes and variations, adding in what sounds like distant field recordings and soft, melodic tones that eventually outpace the static, allowing the musical elements to overtake.While shorter, the title track allows things to go the other way, throwing a distant malfunctioning television together with a bit of digital noise.In comparision to the other tracks, this one errs a bit more on the side of noise, but only ever so slightly, continuing to balance the different sounds beautifully.
The second half of the album has a different, more somber mood in my opinion, with the abrasive squawking electronics of "Sunbathers" obscuring a dark musical drone.The short "Web Over Glen Echo" strips away most of the noise moments in lieu of a filmic ambience, with muted tones audible in a far off corner."Gunpowder (For Raglani)" also relies on sad tones that are amongst a layer of varying static, cyclic melodies that are offset by the slightly abrasive noises.It builds to a sense of hypnotic repetition that becomes soothing and relaxing, but still allows a variety of subtle and varying sonic textures to be heard.
In his description of the disc, Shiflet's quote "the noise and the music have made peace" couldn't be a more concise descriptor for this album.It's not an easy endeavor, in my opinion, to work in these very different contexts without leaning too heavily into one side or another, but here it seems to be done with ease.Llanos is an album in which subtlety and beauty can, and should be enjoyed by all adherents to the genres he works within.
Campbell Kneale has been enjoying quite an impressive creative rebirth since retiring Birchville Cat Motel and re-emerging as Our Love Will Destroy the World, but he wound up with an extremely difficult predicament on his hands in the process: 2009's Fucking Dracula Clouds pretty much perfected the art of being as gnarled, ugly, and visceral as possible and took guitar-based noise about as far as it could logically go.  Unwilling to repeat himself, these two new albums document Kneale's struggle to emerge from that stylistic cul de sac and find innovative new ways to remain vital and nightmarish.
It took me a while to warm to Krayon's Blue Eyes Are My Reward because it feels a bit restrained and scattered compared to past Our Love Will Destroy the World albums.  In fact, the exuberantly strummed acoustic guitar in "Kisses Flaming Hell" approximates what I envision Swervedriver jamming at a beach party might sound like (which is "pretty damn annoying," actually).  However, the rest of the album is pretty unwaveringly excellent despite Kneale's many bold departures from his comfort zone. He does include one characteristically snarling hellscape in the roaring "Triple Encryption Dynasty" that should please anyone hoping for more typical OLWDTW fare, but the remainder of the record is packed full of unexpected surprises ranging from psych-damaged bagpipe drones to tabla-driven ethno-ambiance.  There are also several songs that call to mind a more muscular version of mid-period Zoviet France, melding insistently looping pile-ups of odd percussion, field recordings, and voices with strangled and warped guitars. The fact that very few of these pieces are immediately recognizable as Our Love Will Destroy The World could arguably be considered a flaw, but that is an inherent and unavoidable peril with evolution in general.  This is a very impressive and unexpected effort.
Dekorder's I Hate Even Numbers, on the other hand, is significantly more immediate, distinct, abrasive, and consistent, yet falls quite flat progression-wise.  Thematically, Kneale stays pretty focused on further exploring the possibilities of incorporating thumping beats and deep bass lines to his usual ear-searing, cacophonous onslaught. The dance music elements are generally kept pretty straightforward, like the four-on-the-floor house beat of the title cut, but that seems to be the point: rendering danceable grooves undanceable with shrill feedback, metallic whines, and a litany of non-musical sounds.  Unfortunately, Kneale doesn't quite go anywhere worthwhile with it on the first half of the album, opting to idly ravage unchanging beats without much in the way of pay-off.  The second side of the album is a bit more inventive, as both "Snipers on Skis" and "Twins Like Swans" are built upon unusual mutant-Indian beats, but it still can't escape feeling like a series of underdeveloped song skeletons.  The album's brightest spot is "Tokyo Modern Magic" which marries a somewhat anthemic synth motif to grinding guitar noise and bubbling electronics with some success.  It still fails to evolve much, but it achieves a kind of immersive power simply through sheer density and activity.  I Hate Even Numbers is definitely heavy and attention-grabbing, but its appeal dies rapidly with repeat listens.
Of the two albums, Blue Eyes Are My Reward is the vastly superior one, proving that Campbell is still as daring, restless, and inspired as ever.  In fact, Kneale himself has described it as the best thing he's ever done and I come pretty close to agreeing, but Fucking Dracula Clouds was an absolute monolith of brutality.  I Hate Even Numbers should have been yet another such triumph, but Campbell appears to have lost his talent for dynamics somewhere during the recording process: he seems a bit de-fanged, content to merely augment his songs with harshness rather than aggressively tearing them to shreds or burying them in avalanches of entropy.  The difference between "unpleasantly discordant" and "viciously ugly" is a hugely important one, I'm afraid. These two records definitely leave me pleasantly puzzled, hinting that Campbell's days as a guitar abuse visionary may be winding to a close, but that yet another artistic breakthrough may be imminent.
I have yet to encounter a disappointing major Dust-to-Digital release, and this three-disc collection of the choicest bits from John Heneghan's archive of early 78s continues that hot streak beautifully.  Focusing entirely on the many facets of romance (and not skimping on the negative ones), Heneghan wisely opts to skip most of the "serious" artists from the era and instead plunges headlong into the most satisfying examples of hillbilly kitsch, Hawaiiana, casual racism, yodeling, clumsy lewdness, and spectacular poor taste that the '20s and '30s had to offer.
The 66 songs of Baby, How Can It Be? are helpfully divided into themed discs labeled "Love," "Lust," and "Contempt."  I found this to be a very helpful feature, as it enables me to skip love and go right to lust and contempt (much like I do in my personal life). That is not to say that there aren't a number of wonderful love-themed pieces, because there are (like Bo Carter's "Baby, How Can It Be?").  However, the most immediately gratifying songs are the cartoonishly embittered and lascivious ones: the album doesn't completely catch fire until the clumsy double entendres, misogyny, and suicide threats start flying.  The way I see it, I can always go back to the conventionally good songs later.
The Lust disc is such a treasure trove of questionable taste that I don't even know where to begin.  Did you know that there's a slang term that means both "cat" and "female genitalia?"  There is!  And Harry Roy and His Bat Club Boys make damn sure that they milk that coincidence for all it's worth.  Those same organs also figure quite prominently into Hartman's Heart Breakers' "Let Me Play With It," but they are stealthily referred to as a yo-yo this time around.  Aside from that, a quick review of the song titles pretty much conveys everything anyone needs to know about the contents: "I Ain't a Bit Drunk," "I'm Feelin' Devilish," "Strut That Thing": the Lust disc is pretty much a steam-clouded window into what it was like to be liquored-up and randy in the Jazz Age.  There are also some great break-up songs mixed in, like Rutherford & Foster's resigned-yet-hopeful "There’s More Pretty Girls Than One."  Additionally, there is inexplicably a very tuba-heavy song about falling in love with a mermaid.  I had difficulty relating to that one.
The Contempt disc also has its share of timeless classics, many of which deal with the trials and tribulations of having an overbearing wife, like "She Ain't Built That Way," "He Went in Like a Lion (But Came Out Like a Lamb)," and the brilliant "I'm Wearin' The Britches Now" (about a "lousy sow, " of course).  Then there is the jawdropping "It's A Shame To Whip Your Wife On Sunday," which points out that are six other days of the week to take care stuff like that (along with gettin’ drunk and gamblin’).  For sheer ridiculousness, though, I was perhaps most enamored of the jaunty big band sing-along "Wimmin-Aaaah!," which comes complete with exaggerated yelps of anguish.  Thankfully, the women also get their say about relationships gone wrong, most explicitly on Hazel Scherf's bluntly matter-of-fact "Married Girls Troubles."  Laura Smith takes a far more direct route, however, with her sassy and melodramatic "I’m Gonna Kill Myself."
Heneghan maintains a remarkably high standard of quality despite the album's enthusiastic devotion to all things base and campy.  No one should pick up Baby, How Can It Be? expecting to find the next Blind Lemon Jefferson (though the actual Blind Lemon Jefferson is present), but the more absurd moments are nicely balanced by a healthy proportion of swinging early string jazz, banjo virtuosos, urbane big bands, heartbroken hillbillies, and world-weary bluesmen.  There are certainly a handful of recognizable names here, like Mississippi John Hurt and Cab Calloway, but they are often eclipsed by those who've been largely forgotten: this show belongs to them.
Much like it is with the music contained within, the emphasis for the packaging falls squarely on character and charm rather than on scholarship or comprehensiveness. Pretty much no background is provided for any of the artists involved, which is no surprise as I can't imagine much is available anyway.  Besides, I can't imagine that there are that many people that are dying to learn more about the career of, for example, The Broadway Bellhops.  Instead, there are some colorful liner notes by Nick Tosches and a detourned cheesecake centerfold by R. Crumb (I am actually a bit surprised John Waters didn't get involved too–seems right up his alley).  Even those touches are pretty superfluous, though: Baby, How Can It Be? is essentially a crackling old-time-y party in a box for sociable types and a handy primer for turning your life into Ghost World for the rest of us.
This 1967 recording features an intriguing line-up of alto sax, cello, and two bass players. Since Tyler played on Albert Ayler's Bells and Spirits Rejoice it is no surprise that on his own album he challenges the other musicians to explore restless improvisation and avoid locking into too much of a groove.
In the wrong hands, this kind of improvising can be extremely alienating for some listeners who perhaps suspect that this is almost made up as it goes along. However, as was noted by Brian Priestley in 1988:
"just like improvisation in comedy (or, indeed, in conversation) it requires a knowledge of the language; and it requires having something to say or, at least, a point of view (and, in performance involving two or more people, it requires a responsiveness to others' points of view). Above all, it is necessary to have a conviction that the act of improvisation is in some ways superior to making prepared statements, and that is something not easily acquired in Western societies."
Charles Tyler's approach communicates a belief in freedom and expression and Eastern Man Alone sets about building bridges between players and listeners from the opening bars of the first piece, "Cha-Lacey’s Out East." It's not a fantastically memorable riff but does provide enough of a solid basis to justify the ensuing 12 minutes of deviations and tangents. Overall, the album's sense of almost continual movement is more rewarding than disorienting or annoying. The bassists might have engaged in more of a tussle, but in addition to Tyler's deep and howling alto tone there is plenty of textural variety from David Baker's cello.
The third (and shortest) of the albums' four pieces, "Le-Roi," seems to be the most intense and spirited. The cello and basses anchor the tune and gnaw away at everything as if in a Claude Makelele-inspired trance. This allows Tyler's sax the freedom to wander. It could also be that the running order is vitally important and the opening two pieces serve to warm the ears up to hear just what is going on. After several complete listens to this album I was hearing (or imagining) all sorts of obliquely phrased references: everything from "Waltzing Matilda" and Salvation Army hymns to "The Star Spangled Banner." Eastern Man Alone is a worthwhile reissue from Charles Tyler, who started playing clarinet aged seven, and also played piano and baritone. In his 40s Tyler moved to France, where he died in 1992.
The new Natural Snow Buildings double-album Waves of the Random Sea may now be pre-ordered from Blackest Rainbow.
"Stunning new record from Natural Snow Buildings, the collaborative project between Mehdi Ameziane and Solange Gularte, the minds behind Twinsistermoon and Isengrind respectively. This new epic from the French duo is their first physical release since 2009's well received Shadow Kingdom, also issued by us here at Blackest Rainbow, and it follows on from 2010's download only The Centauri Agent and both Twinsistermoon and Isengrind full length LPs. So 2010 has been a relatively quiet year for Natural Snow Buildings in comparison to 2008 and 2009. Mehdi and Solange have been working on 'Waves of the Random Sea' for us for quite sometime, both in terms of art and audio, and it really has come together beautifully. Solange has created a truly stunning series of artworks that spread across the 4 panels of the gatefold sleeve, and the music is a gorgeous tapestry of dreamy drone blurred with their enchanting ethereal folk balladry. This release continues to show how important every aspect of a Natural Snow Buildings release means to them, I was blown away by the standard of the music and artwork. Pressed on heavyweight virgin vinyl, and housed in a beautiful gatefold sleeve featuring artwork by Solange. The vinyl edition features an extra track not on the CD and all tracks in their entirety."
Giuseppe presents an extraordinarily sucessful and ecumenical set of turntable jams on the third and final EP in his Stunt trilogy. With fragmented samples bent into dance cadences and abrupt vocalizations serving as melodic leads, (third) Stunt smacks of both Oval's glitch-worship and Autechre's cold symmetries circa Tri Repetae. More soulful than either, Ielasi stays ahead of his influences by injecting his signature ambient glow into the mix and by adding a touch of dubstep grit.
The first song on (third) Stunt's first side features a familiar, almost taunting melody, not unlike a group of kids singing "nyah nyah nyah" to each other. Instead of singing children, Ielasi utilizes a squeaky, trumpet-like tone to generate the effect (think of the duh duh duh melodies from Aphex Twin's "Windowlicker"). Behind it, a comical series of abruptly cut samples skip and jump unevenly, obeying the meter of a mostly inaudible mother pulse. Scratches, imperfect edits, breathing, and other vocal noises join this unlikely orchestra and, by the song's end, emulate the sounds of a grade school playground during recess, with the kids playing Double Dutch jump rope acting as impromptu conductors.
Later songs take on a more serious tone; one is almost threatening, and features the kind of atmosphere Burial frequently achieves, while another is at least superficially personal and employs a naive, somewhat innocent melody. But the same "anything-goes" approach that characterizes that first song persists through all the rest. Odd and ghostly voices float through the second side's second piece to the tune of a harp and garbage audio, and the concluding song uses resonant drums, chants, and conversational noise as accompaniment for a melody shared between a synthesizer and a piano. Hints of industrial cacophony also figure into the mix, but Ielasi never uses his sample-based approach as an excuse to indulge in noise or unmetered improv. Instead, he quietly guides his army of instruments through a loose dance, giving them equal chance to play and to obey his orders. Consequently, the entire record exhibits a unique organic vibe quite unlike anything produced by Oval, Autechre, or Burial.
Adding to the record's many charms and virtues is its brevity. Ielasi clearly had a vision going into this project, and he executes it concisely. Some songs, especially the first and last, end just as they're hitting their stride. Giuseppe gives them only the time they need to develop, then he ends them unceremoniously and moves on. That sense of economy is elemental to (third) Stunt's excellence and a major contributor to its endless replayability.
samples:
Dekorder was kind enough to send us an LP, but that means we have no samples for this release. Sorry!
As a duo of drummer Marshall Trammell and guitarist/electronic specialist Zachary James Watkins, Black Spirituals work with unconventional arrangements. The immediate reference point I thought of, Lightening Bolt, is anything but appropriate as far as music goes. While that duo's sound was based upon rapid-fire freak-outs and spastic thrashing, Trammell and James are more deliberate, methodical, and disciplined, but no less thrilling or engaging.
The opening moments of the 20 minute "Radiant" at first resemble nothing but an unplugged guitar cable, but that telltale buzz is soon shaped and molded into an ever expanding electronic burst.Trammell’s taut drumming slides in, locking into a funk-laden groove backed by electronic noise and propelled by a deep, rhythmic pulse.Eventually the drums relent to a wall of shrill electronics, pulling back to just a kick drum and skittering cymbals.
Watkins' wall of noise envelops everything and dominates the mix, all consuming but not at all harsh or unpleasant.The electronics are soon supplanted by what sounds to be a beautifully over-driven guitar, resulting in a rapid but structured duet that rivals the best of any free jazz record.The drums fade away toward the end, the guitar does not, ending the first half of the record on a nicely noisy note.
On "Black," a guitar amp drone is quickly blended with a melodic bit of guitar, comprising much of a lengthy free-form opening.Percussion is slowly introduced; first stuttering and tentative until launching full bore into frightening complexity.Even with their harsh approach, the guitar and electronics keep a distinct melodic flow going, while the drumming sounds as if it is teetering on the precipice of unadulterated chaos and destruction.
The shorter, final composition, "Body," is comparably a more loose and relaxed work.Erratic electronics and percussion swell up and then drop back into silence.The constantly shifting dynamics and jazz improvisations use the silence to excellent effect, reinforcing the impact and heaviness when the two are making their brilliant racket.
Black Spiritual's skeletal arrangements make for Of Deconstruction's greatest assets.With many of these pieces stripped down to just drums, electronics, and sometimes guitar, Watkins and Trammell's exceptional proficiency their respective instruments is showcased perfectly.Signifiers such as jazz and noise may be applicable, but in reality the duo’s work defies categorization and stands out as truly unique, a rarity these days.
Blood Bright Star's Reuben Sawyer might be primarily known as a visual artist, but his growing discography as a musician indicates that he is a man of many talents. The Silver Head, a four song 12" has him locking into a classically minimalist groove that pulls brilliantly from post punk, krautrock, and metal. The results retain just the right amount of experimentation, while still resulting in a memorable suite of songs.
One of the defining qualities of this record is Sawyer's almost militant adherence to motorik grooves, the type that Can and Neu! made a name for themselves using.The tight, complex repetitive drumming throughout The Silver Head stretches to both sides of the vinyl, and is what really drew me in upon my first listening.On "Ash Through The Aethyr", the drums are tastefully placed in the mix, and wonderfully intertwined with the bass guitar.Sawyer’s vocals follow the deep monotone delivery that works just as well here as it did on the 1980s death rock albums I cannot help but associate the style with.
"Pale Sphere Apparition" is slower, and even bleaker than what preceded it.With the sparingly used vocals and funereal pace, I was definitely feeling parallels with The Cure circa 1980-1981 but with a monastic discipline as far as repetitive rhythms go.The short "Lunar Madness" shows Sawyer bringing in a little bit of light, but not much.Comparably it is more up-tempo and utilizes a lot of chiming guitar melodies, a sound not drastically removed from the first Interpol album.
The entire duration of the B-side is taken up by the long title song, which keeps the repetition but Sawyer implements more variation and diversity necessary for a piece of this length.Opening with a thin, fuzzy noise opening, a hint of southern guitar twang shows up ever so cautiously.Rawer tones and melodies slip through, and like a good minimalist record there is a staunch repetition that obscures small, but effective changes that slowly become apparent.
I cannot help but hear some similarities on The Silver Head with some of Horseback’s earliest work.Both feature the same hypnotic, minimalist approach to composition, placing more contemporary styles into a more traditionalist framework.The tone is very different, however:while Horseback's sound is a southern tinged Master of Reality, Blood Bright Star instead embraces Unknown Pleasures, with some contributions from its gothic antecedents.Rather than just being a repetitive droning work, Sawyer's output is memorable and at times even catchy, something few albums like this can manage.
Although Jeff Witscher is best known these days for his work as Rene Hell, he has actually been on the scene for quite a long time and has cycled through a number of both guises and styles.  One of his more beloved early projects was this one, which was reserved for his ambient drone work.  Unfortunately, most of Marble Sky's releases were only available as limited-run cassettes, so this collection of that rare material is quite a useful and timely one.  While there is probably nothing here that anyone will find stylistically revelatory in 2014, Witscher's execution is quite superb, striking the perfect balance between dreamy bliss and frayed, static-gnawed edges.
The six songs assembled for this collection are culled primarily from Marble Sky's two "albums" that were originally released as cassettes on Witscher's own Callow God label: The Sad Return (2007) and Low God/Lady (2008).  That is a slight oversimplification, however, as Lady surfaced once before and an expanded versionof The Sad Return was eventually issued on CD by Students of Decay, but the key thing is that this compilation is a solid assemblage of Marble Sky's greatest moments rather than a comprehensive, career-spanning overview.  I am perfectly happy with that, though anyone looking for a more complete picture will still have a handful of other tapes to track down.
For the most part, these six pieces are built upon warm, slow-moving and lush swells of synth chords, but only the lovely opening "Pulling Up Grass Under a Blanket" stays particularly restrained to that simple palette.  Even that piece presumably has some unrecognized elements at work, however, as its various dynamic high points feature distortion and oscillation that could have come from a guitar or a snarl of effects pedals.  Given Jeff's affiliation with the noise scene, it is probably safe to say that absolutely anything that sounded good was probably fair game.  "Dull Hue," for example, incorporates cloud-like swaths of shoegaze guitar roar into its crescendo, while other pieces feature endlessly sustained metal chords, a prominent patina of amp noise or tape hiss, sputtering static, or even an unexpected violin.
The best pieces, of course, are the ones that find the ideal balance between beautiful, dream-like reverie and Witscher's more caustic tendencies.  My favorite is currently Lady’s "Sunset on Low," which balances quavering organ-esque drones with an Angelo Badalamenti-indebted undercurrent of gently oscillating dread.  "A Shining Juniper" is similarly stellar–particularly the opening, as a wounded-sounding synth warble slowly emerges from a warm bass hum.  Later in the piece, Witscher unveils some neat textural laptop tricks, tweaking the synth motif from trebly shimmer to soothing white noise to warm, hollow swells before it all ultimately winds down.  Yet a third highlight is the aforementioned "Dull Hue," in which an achingly melancholy motif slowly and beautifully emerges from a layered bed of distortion and hiss.
As for the remaining pieces, they are generally quite good as well, though they do not grab my attention as much as some others.  Part of that is due to their length, I suppose, as both "What You Might Forget" and "Lea; Crossed Eyes" clock in around 15 minutes each.  "What You Might Forget" is a fairly drifting piece, as a heavenly chord progression slowly floats above an ocean of static and distortion without much change at all until the very end.  It does not necessarily need to change, as it is quite enjoyable as it is, but its amorphous nature inherently makes it a bit less striking than the more tightly composed pieces.  "Lea," on the other hand, is considerably more ambitious, passing through several different movements.  Unfortunately, several motifs (particularly the sustained distorted chord near the end) overstay their welcome, which causes the piece to drag a bit.  That is one of the perils of cassette culture, I suppose, as it is very tempting to stretch a piece to avoid leaving blank space.  Now that "Lea" is not filling the side of a tape, however, it just feels needlessly long.
That said, a piece like "Lea; Crossed Eyes" would probably be a near-highlight on many other drone albums–it seems lacking here solely because of the superior quality of its surroundings.  Aside from a few minor wobbles, this is probably one of the finer drone albums that will be released this year: Jeff Witscher circa 2008 was one hell of a craftsman and having all of his best Marble Sky work in one place like this makes for a wonderful and absorbing listen.  Certainly other artists have since surpassed this material in various specific ways since it was recorded, but few have succeeded in such a holistic way at riding the precarious line that separates straightforward drone from noise and heavier experimental leanings.  This is solid, meat-and-potatoes ambient drone done both distinctively and exactly right.