We have finally cleared out the backlog of great music and present some new episodes.
Episode 711 features music from The Jesus and Mary Chain, Zola Jesus, Duster, Sangre Nueva, Dialect, The Bug, Cleared, Mount Eerie, Mulatu Astatke & Hoodna Orchestra, Hayden Pedigo, Bistro Boy, and Ibukun Sunday.
Episode 712 has tunes by Mazza Vision, Waveskania, Black Pus, Sam Gendel, Benny Bock, and Hans Kjorstad, Katharina Grosse, Carina Khorkhordina, Tintin Patrone, Billy Roisz, and Stefan Schneider, His Name Is Alive, artificial memory trace, mclusky, Justin Walter, mastroKristo, Başak Günak, and William Basinski.
Episode 713 brings you sounds from Mouse On Mars, Leavs, Lawrence English, Mo Dotti, Wendy Eisenberg, Envy, Ben Lukas Boysen, Cindytalk, Mercury Rev, White Poppy, Anadol & Marie Klock, and Galaxie 500.
Skolavordustigur Street in Reykjavík photo by Jon (your Podcast DJ).
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For many writers (myself included), describing a band as being like "early Swans" is a very easy crutch to use. For those who have at least the most passing familiarity with this era, it calls to mind slow, dissonant guitar riffs, a rhythm section that, at loud enough volumes, feels like getting kicked in the groin repeatedly. And above all, Michael Gira’s growed, hate filled vocals that have been attempted, but never surpassed, by other bands. Quite simply, without this material, it is doubtful that "sludge" or "drone" as we know it would exist. Justin Broadrick may have stuck around in Napalm Death to continue grindcore into stagnancy, Sunn O)))’s members would be in faceless black metal bands, and so forth. Unlike some other works with this sort of legendary status, the LPs and EPs that make up this collection sound just as vital and genre defining as they did some 25 years ago. With word that Gira may be reviving the project, and the consistent influence shown in modern bands, it is a perfect time to revisit this unabashed classic.
Quite simply, without this set of releases, the world would probably not have the likes of Godflesh/Jesu, Nadja, Khanate, Sunn O))), Earth, etc. The original releases on this two disc compilation is ground zero for painfully slow, but undeniably heavy music. Its long title is fully descriptive: the first disc of this set is the Cop LP and Young God EP combined. To be specific, this is what many people think of when they mean "early Swans." The debut EP and the Filth LP came first, but both of them had flirtations with post-punk pacing and other aberrations. The self-titled EP was much faster in tempo, featured saxophone, and owed more to Joy Division than alcohol fueled rage. Filth’s tape experimentations with voice gave it a slightly weird edge, and to be frank, someone could dance to "Big Strong Boss" if they really wanted to. Cop stripped this away to the bare elements of Filth: BPM counts that could barely enter the double digits at times, detuned bass notes that sounded more like the strings were being bashed rather than played, etc.
Through all of this is Michael Gira’s growled and snarled vocals, which end up being a pure indictment of humanity: the disposal of a corpse in "Job," police brutality in "Cop," and the life of Ed Gein in "Young God." It isn’t until this material from the Young God EP that any variation becomes notable: the slightly faster bass/drum rhythm of "Raping a Slave," and the complete dissonance of the title track, and the more varied production throughout. The disc ends with the beginning of the change in the band, "Sealed in Skin" and "Fool" from the singles that would be from Greed and Holy Money. The former maintains the same atmosphere as the prior material, but strips away the guitar and allows in piano, with Gira’s vocals somewhat toned down in comparison.
Hardcore purists often cite this point, which is the same time Jarboe joined the band, as being when Swans began to lose their direction. The simple fact is, would anyone have benefited from an entire career of the same style? I mean, personally, I find it hard to listen to the entire duration of this first disc without any sort of break. Its strength is its repetition and hatred, and, depending on my mood, sometimes it just is too much. In pieces, essentially in the original way the releases were formatted, it’s just fine. I usually play about half of this disc a week just randomly. But to imagine all the subsequent albums sounding like this is a scary thought, and if time had played itself out this way, the respect for the band probably wouldn’t be as great as it is today.
Now, by no means am I a Jarboe apologist, but her appearance on the second disc, the Greed and Holy Money LPs does not hurt the tracks one bit. It is a natural progression in feeling from the prior material, and has some innovations that people often don’t link with the band. Leading off with the "Time is Money (Bastard)" single, one can pretty much hear the creation of big beat industrial. While the song is probably twice the tempo of any other Swans material prior, the thick mechanical rhythm becomes the focus of the song, with just small concessions from guitar and bass quiet in the mix. Gira’s vocals, just as angry as before, bark lines like "you should be violated/you should be raped" with a disgust that one can only be convinced he means them. The similarly up-tempo "A Screw", both in its original and instrumental Holy Money mix, embraces this industrialized vibe as well, a combination of mechanical and organic drums, rhythmic bass and synth horns are far more suited for the dance floor than most Swans fans would like to think.
At other points throughout the slow crawl of Cop appears in different forms, on "Heaven" it is simply added to subtle synth elements and snarling, but minimal guitar lines. The disturbingly tight "Coward" lopes along with the occasional bit of uncomfortable breathing room in the sound. The structure is similar on "A Hanging", but in this case the choir like vocals from Jarboe actually add to the funeral sound more than detract from it. The two tracks she is the lead vocalist on, "Blackmail" and "You Need Me" are actually well done as well: restrained, mournful tones over dramatic, reverbed piano. Unfortunately we all know from here she went onto hysterical vocal histrionics that pushed the band away from this original sound.
From here the band went on to record what is often regarded as their best album, Children of God, which kept some of the violent aggression, but added in more gentle musical elements that eventually pushed them towards the world music edge of The Burning World and into the almost overt goth of Love of Life and White Light from the Mouth of Infinity. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of pretty much every era of Swans through Gira’s work as the Angels of Light, but I don’t think any of their other releases, save for perhaps Soundtracks for the Blind, that so perfectly encapsulated a sound and a style as this collection of LPs, EPs and singles. While it is a daunting listen, simply because this much hatred and disgust compressed into two and a half hours is tough to endure, it is undoubtedly worth the trauma.
Wolves' third album is a solid monolith of blistering brutality that will likely make black metal fans very happy. Unfortunately, the more melodically adventurous Malevolent Grain EP hinted they were capable of being much more than merely brutal. Black Cascade is not the album that I was eagerly hoping for at all, but I suppose Nathan Weaver must follow his dark muse to whatever sinister place it takes him. Maybe next time.
This year's Malevolent Grain EP was a brilliant and brief distillation of everything that makes Wolves In The Throne Room a great band, so it is confounding and disappointing that their newest full-length is less melodic, features less dynamic variation, and is twice as long. Of course, they are still absolutely ferocious and heavy as hell, but Black Cascade offers little that their earlier albums didn't already do more compellingly.
"Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog" begins the album explosively with furious tremolo-picking, shrieking vocals, and a frenzied blast beat before shifting into a slower, more melodic interlude that uncharacteristically features a guitar solo (these guys are not big on frills). A lot more happens after that, which is the primary shortcoming of the album: no song is less than ten and half minutes long. I have no problem with extended song lengths, but I am afraid Black Cascade is not multifaceted enough to pull off such a feat. Frustratingly, the individual components of each song are often excellent, but their power is diluted by the endless back and forth between frantic intensity and mid-paced melodicism. The tempo and the actual notes may change, but the omnipresent amelodic throat-shredding vocals and distorted, frantically strummed chord progressions create an inescapable feeling of sameness.
"Ahrimanic Trance" follows essentially the same template, but with a much higher ratio of memorable parts to filler. Regrettably, it clocks in at over fourteen minutes, so it still overstays its welcome in spite of its many positive attributes. Nevertheless, there is an absolutely devastating section in which melancholy, elegant keyboards hover above the frenzied maelstrom and Aaron Weaver's drumming reaches almost jaw-dropping intensity that almost makes it all worthwhile. Unfortunately, the drums are the hapless victim of the second frustrating thing about Black Cascade: the production. Aaron Weaver is an absolutely stupefying drummer and probably could carry this album on his own, but he is hamstrung here by production that de-emphasizes the bass drum. His playing, while undeniably virtousic, is all snare and cymbal. A black metal album without rumbling double-bass is at a serious disadvantage as far as visceral, crushing intensity is concerned. Demonic mayhem and emasculation cannot co-exist.
The remaining two tracks do not stray much from what preceeded them, but offer up occasional welcome surprises regardless. For example, "Ex Cathedra" features some very effective dual-guitar harmonizing in the main riff, a mid-song ambient interlude, and an extremely cool outro. The closing track, "Crystal Ammunition" contains a somewhat dull acoustic guitar interlude, but later makes up for it with a lengthy and beautiful synthesizer and chorused guitar passage. Of course, both tracks are still very long, so there is a lot of unsurprising material as well.
Black Cascade is quite simply too much of a good thing (compounded by less than ideal presentation). There are dozens of great ideas strewn throughout this album, but their power is maddeningly diminished by lack of dynamic variety and overreachingly epic song-structures. While I am sure that I am not the target demographic for this album, I am also certain that the black metal genre is teeming with bands that are single-mindedly focused on speed and intensity and that the Wolves will have to be a bit more innovative and focused on songcraft than this if they want to maintain their place near the top of the infernal, blasphemous heap.
Alex Neilson's name shouldn't be unfamiliar around here (drummer for Baby Dee, Current 93, The One Ensemble, and Jandek). The debut of Trembling Bells brilliantly blends ancient themes with individual concerns and traditional song structures with more modern twists. It has as a euphoric balance of dissonance and melody, fine musicianship, emotional conviction, and a sense of humor.
My first thought upon hearing Carbeth was to wonder what the members of the Incredible String Band or Fairport Convention might have thought of this recording; with its moments of intense restraint and overblown beauty, slight nods to US country music, soaring voices, echoes of eerie plainsong, and vibrant, ecstatic choruses. I didn't have to wait long for something of a reliable answer, as no less an authority than Joe Boyd (producer of both those earlier groups) is very much in favor of Trembling Bells. And no wonder. Their overall sound sways close to that of an unfussy but expertly mic'd gig; the kind that Boyd consistently arranged.
There's a good contrast between Neilson's thinner voice and Lavinia Blackwall's amazing, almost operatic singing. Their shared vocal duties are particularly good on "I Took To You (Like Christ To Wood)," a track which, after the pair wail "I am getting out of Glasgow...into the endless night" erupts into an unrepentantly full-on reel. The charm of their a cappella piece, "Seven Years A Teardrop", has eluded me so far, but it does provide contrast. Blackwall has also been compared to the unique Sandy Denny, but I can't go along with that. Although she is pretty marvelous here, and does have a similar mournful purity, Blackwall fluctuates sharply between a warbling soprano and a deeper, atonal moan, sometimes in the same verse. When she flips betwen the two, especially on the fabulous "Willows of Carbeth," it's as if she's channeling Judy Collins one second and Nico the next. This song is the obvious highlight, not least as the lyrics hint at mythical or metaphorical transformation: an old device, a staple of North European folk music, to describe the madness and magic of love and reveal the mystique of everyday topics (or cloak them in it). In the song, Blackwall remembers a walk with a former loved one who was naming trees, her favorite being the willow sheltering other couples beside a river. Suddenly rejected, she fails to numb her mind with alcohol and instead recalls little things which remind her of those blissful times, before likening herself to the weeping willow, now merely standing by and watching others love.
All the playing is excellent and well-judged, as is expected from such reknowned improvisers as Neilson. Just as admirable is the firm grasp of simplicity and the mostly non-abstract nature of these songs. "The End Is The Beginning Born Knowing" is a good example of Trembling Bells' approach. It incorporates rapid stream-of-consciousness lyrics and a looping melodic theme, but feels like a remake of some ancient music. Many of the pieces on Carbeth have several changes of pace and cleverly appear to have been cut-up and reassembled in a different order- either with chorus preceeding verse, or slow intro coming at the end of the song, as wistful coda. "Summer's Waning" is one exception, maintaining a slow, almost blues-like dirge, close to the style of (1960s UK group) Chicken Shack, from it's first note and memorable opening line: "Summer's waning, I was drinking, to your heath, while mine was fading".
As I'm a sucker for wry, romantic folk, I don't expect to hear a more rewarding record this year and thoroughly enjoyed the rambling references to poets, herbs, crimson lips, blood, dreams, pilgrims, kingdoms, smoking, drinking, stars, trees, nights, incantations, memories, people flying, burdens, the foolish and the wise. But even if these topics don't appeal there's an undeniably satisfactory jangle, crash, and thump to these tracks which will draw in a wider audience. The only complaint with this release is feeling obliged to list the members' impressive other projects! Drummer Alex Neilson backed Jandek on his first live gigs, collaborates with Richard Youngs, has assisted Alasdair Roberts, Ashtray Navigations, Six Organs of Admittance, Will Oldham, The One Ensemble, Baby Dee and Current 93, and has founded Scatter and Directing Hand. Singer Lavinia Blackwall is also in the Pendulums, Black Flowers and Directing Hand. Guitarist Ben Reynolds previously worked with Neilson in Motor Ghost and his solo album How Day Earnt Its Night is out next month: on this showing I can't wait to hear it! Bassist Simon Shaw was the driving force of Lucky Luke, and additional players George Murray (trombone) and Aby Vuillamy (viola) were in the aformentioned Scatter and The One Ensemble.
A new approach (or at least moniker) for orchestramaxfieldparrish's Mike Fazio, this album presents two separate discs, each individually named, for a double dose of dark and moody ambience as rendered by Fazio's nearly neo-classical approach. Long though it may be, there is enough depth to the material here that suggests numerous listens, yet it is also bare enough that it is just as suitable as background accompaniment, albeit to a consistently grim undertaking.
A new approach (or at least moniker) for orchestramaxfieldparrish's Mike Fazio, this album presents two separate discs, each individually named, for a double dose of dark and moody ambience as rendered by Fazio's nearly neo-classical approach. Long though it may be, there is enough depth to the material here that suggests numerous listens, yet it is also bare enough that it is just as suitable as background accompaniment, albeit to a consistently grim undertaking.
The first disc, To the Last Man, features a lengthy presentation of seven pieces each exploring a similarly shaded demeanor materializing and decomposing tonal matter. The shimmering bell-like resonances of "To Touch the Sky" writhe uncomfortably above the dark underpinnings of drone that situate themselves amongst an almost Gothic sonic backdrop infested by gargoyles and ghosts alike. It is a strange, unnerving approach that manages to paint new material with old techniques.
The filmic quality of much of this material is undeniable considering the strength of its spare and evocative mood setting. With delicate placement, each piece here finds new corners and awkward, creeping modes of the same general tone. As the previously mentioned track slips into "Ennoæ," a distant hand drum rhythm brings new color to the bleakness, adding an echoing force behind the thick swabs of blackness being worked with. When a series of pipes come in, the work begins to resemble a mini percussion orchestra, riding atop some steady drone that bobs up and down in untended black waters.
Fazio's greatest abilities lie in his decisions, as each work displays many that point toward a general caution executed in the creation of his pieces. Never one to overindulge himself, Fazio's textures and patterns service the tune far more than any egotistical self-journey. There is a meditative, almost minimalist effect to many of these, as the carefully produced sounds bounce in and out of the mix with trance-inducing effect.
Yet Fazio's signature sound seems to stem far more from Arvo Part than Reich or Glass, while also interweaving an almost proggy sense of the dramatic. "Ecquænam" may be short, but it has enough dramatic flourishes to make it an ample close to the first disc. "1/1" opens the next disc in a seeming homage to Eno's Music for Airports, a connection made stronger by the title of the disc and its close approximation to Eno's collaborative effort with Robert Fripp on "An Index of Metals." If greater convincing is required, then it can be found in the ambient structures constructed throughout, as the aforementioned proggy elements are brought to the fore and coaxed into writhing electronic sculptures that bend and sway against the skies.
The two discs represent a fine and strongly crafted construction that, though quite a lot for one listen, serves its listener well over the course of numerous re-dippings into the cold waters. That these are as beautiful as they are only makes the darkness more alluring, as the closing "1/3" certainly displays. Almost a half-hour long, the piece builds slowly through static mine fields and church bells. It may be intimidating, and it may long, but the allure of such a mystique can't be denied.
Christofer Lambgren's premire full length release under the guise of the Nana April Jun persona "researches the dark associations of post-black metal," and references the Burzum album Filosofem, which revolutionized the genre by including an extended inwardly reflective keyboard piece. Using purely digital means Nana April Jun has created a sound world that gives a sense of having succumb to the numb isolation of a person who has long been institutionalized, not unlike the patron saint of black metal himself, Varg Vikernes.
As the songs are purely digital creations it is tempting to try and imagine what analogous forms the sounds might correspond to in the natural world. The study of correspondences between various categories and classifications of being is considered an art form among alchemists, and themes of alchemy, metamorphosis and perception form a perennial thread spun through the course of the album. For Nana April Jun the studio has become a laboratory where the principles of art and science that make up the Great Work can be tested and applied, and by bringing the scientific method to bear he underpins the five pieces with a quality of clinical detachment.
“The One Substance” is one of the shortest songs on the disc, making it a more simple matter to notice the acute changes in dynamics and sonority that occur over the course of its three+ minutes. An oscillating beam of supercharged particles radiates out from the opening silence as microscopic loops of tight knit feedback swim back and forth between the speakers before gradually fading to a low whine. Digital signals are then transformed into menacing open chord guitar strums that leave me feeling jarred. These chords repeat, gradually fading over a resonant abyss. “Space-Time Continuum” evokes the howling wind of the arctic north. Heavy gales of rain are heard splattering across the pavement; waves crash on a rocky beach at high tide. At least that is what my brain imposes on these auditory abstractions. This song is very soothing and meditative, and well placed as the bookends on either side are unnerving. “Sun Wind Darkness Eye” starts with a low rumble augmented by a slow fizz of white noise. Together these two sounds swirl around each other as if they were vapors bubbling up from an alembic. When the low-end bass thumps arrive, I am driven into a trance state through the process of entrainment, and the other sounds are buried in its wake.
With noise as a focal point for philosophical inquiry, this album finds its perfect home on the Touch label. This won’t be something I keep in my player for weeks on end yet I will come back to it when a mood conducive for the darker side of solitary introspection is required.
Sometimes one disc isn't enough. Following up his stunning cassette debut last year, Russian cosmo-wizard Sergey Kozlov returns with a double disc's worth of rock demolition. Whereas the cassette fidelity of the first kept things murky and mysterious though, the two CDs here find Kozlov presenting a far clearer and more expansive concoction that unfurls the vision of a new and potent psychedelic voice.
Of course Kozlov isn't without his influences, and much of his strength lies in his willingness to incorporate the techniques of past exploratory rockers such as Parson Sound and Hawkwind, as well as '70s modal folk material, through his own lens. That Kozlov does it all alone with overdubs and loops is all the more impressive, as what results has none of the repetitive tendencies of most one man bands, instead sounding far closer to a taut and unified rock band than a one man unit likely enacting its prowess in said musician's basement.
Both discs presented are three tracks in length, each beginning with its shortest and ending with its longest piece. And I don't use piece lightly here; these are too vast to be considered songs, yet far too together and constructed to be considered jams. Call them suites if you will, but each number here is infused with pockets and pockets of ideas held together through the sheer momentum and energy of their construction.
Take the opening "Jahendra Shitzaga," for example. Beginning with an encroaching two-note bass line and drifting vocals, guitars sprawl out above before Kozlov's drums come pummeling forward. While much of this could more or less been assembled strictly through loops however, it is clear from the bass alone that Kozlov really played each part through, making it nearly impossible to decipher the kernel from which he started the track but infusing it with a live and elastic in-the-moment quality that too often is lacking when there are only two hands at work.
Those two hands sure do work however, and both Kozlov's drumming and guitar work are magnificent. Everything here seems driven primarily by rhythm, which serves Koslov well as he has a knack for a hard hitting, in-the-pocket approach that drives the work far beyond mere pummel and into the depths of a more lively experimentalism whose sights are set on the outer reaches rather than the inner head-banger. It is, it seems, this rhythmic component which is always at work. On "Kilobelnaya," the 20-plus minute closer to disc one, a modal folk grows and grows, heading toward a pulse and, once finding it, riding along it with enthusiastic delight. Some of the production here even comes across as a bit dubby, everything drifting off and into itself as each element is treated with spatial regard to everything else.
Closing disc two, "Emptuhi Campusabba" is a broad and far-reaching piece that perfectly encapsulates all that Kozlov achieves here. With odd vocal utterances that might well be Pandit Pran Nath had he endulged in a bit too much cough syrup, the work's flutes, guitar and rambling spaciness pulls from so many sources that it treads a fine line between sounding at once familiar and entirely distinctive. This is, perhaps better than anything else, as fine an indicator as there could be of Kozlov's talents. Never the imitator, Kozlov is absolutely aware of his predecessors, and using that knowledge with skill and honesty is too rare a thing.
Also of note here: the album, released by Stunned, is highly limited, as only 100 copies were made. Too often this is seen as an indicator not of limited budgets and homegrown operations, but of sub-par quality releases undeserving of greater distribution. As Stunned and Kozlov have proven repeatedly however, some of the most viable and exciting music coming out is done so on these labels, whose lack of overhead cost allows for an experimentalism that commercial requirements too often quell. Truly a find, and one which will someday surely be regarded with great reverence, so long as people are given the opportunity to hear it.
Pekka Airaksinen has never been particularly well known outside of his native Finland, but he has the unique distinction of appearing not once, but twice on the legendary list that accompanied Nurse With Wound's debut album (once as himself, once as The Sperm). In the ensuing four decades since his heyday as an underground rock luminary, he has quietly released an avalanche of material on his own label (not mere hyperbole: he is attempting to release an album dedicated to each of the one thousand Buddhas), while toiling in relative obscurity. While I have no intention of plunging into the time- (and finance-) engulfing black hole of his back catalog just yet, I can happily report that Mahagood shows that the old fellow is still as vital and playfully skewed as ever.
Airaksinen’s output since his return to releasing music in the 1980s has been quite varied (veering into new age, house, and electro-jazz) and, by his own admission, occasionally trivial. Mahagood, however, is a wholly different animal. For one, Airaksinen has completely eschewed traditional instrumentation and has instead improvised an eclectic and plunderphonic avant-garde collage. Secondly, he has nostalgically cannibalized his early influences (swing jazz and early electronic music) for the bulk of the source material.
The album’s first track, “Water Is Best,” is built around a lurching and relentlessly deranged repetition of a big band saxophone snippet that is constantly intruded upon by discordant flutes, manipulated drums, and kitschy organ interludes. These themes (abruptly stopping and starting jazz loops, odd juxtapositions, and unexpected stabs of dissonance) remain consistent for the rest of the album. In fact, they are so consistent that the second track, “Nobody Is Free,” is almost indistinguishable from the first, except that it is enhanced by funky stand-up bass and builds up to some alien metallic dissonance before segueing into the beautifully disquieting and somewhat harsh path of “Let Your Anger Die Before You” and “Waves Follow Waves.”
Airaksinen threatens to return to a groove again with the blues-appropriating “Once I Was In Their House,” but deep foreboding strings and eruptions of dissonance quickly pervert the ebullient cut-ups into something entirely nightmarish before fading into the haunting ambiance of “Why All This Prelude.” Immediately afterwards, “Don’t Educate Your Children Too Smart” delivers exactly the sort of unsettling nocturnal jazz expected to be playing in the background at the brothel from Twin Peaks. The album is concluded with a palate-cleansing double-dose of violent surrealist sound pile-ups (the two-part “My Tongue Swore, My Mind Didn’t”) that make it quite clear why Stephen Stapleton would be a fan.
Mahagood works best when appreciated in its entirety, as there are constant revisitations of themes and samples throughout, but nearly all of the nine tracks are excellent when taken individually. Airaksinen’s masterfully kaleidoscopic shifts from playful mischief to disturbing darkness and back again are uniquely his own. This is a challenging and inspired work and I hope it finds the audience it deserves. Of course, Airaksinen probably won't notice if it does, as he will presumably be hard at work on the remaining nine hundred albums in his Buddha series.
This is the fourth beguiling release culled from Honest Jon's plunge deep into the EMI Hayes archive of forgotten 78s. Like Sprigs of Time, Living Is Hard, and Give Me Love before it, this is a singular and expertly curated exploration of some seriously obscure music. Unlike those albums, however, Open Strings also features the curious (and possibly misguided) addition of a companion album of modern artists that mine similar territory.
Entertainment Weekly once proclaimed Honest Jon's "the hippest world-music label going" and there is a lot of truth in that, despite both serious competition from Sublime Frequencies, SoundWay, and Analog Africa and that particular magazine's historically misguided and unfortunate musical taste. If someone had told me ten years ago that Damon Albarn from Blur would someday play an integral role in shaping my musical taste, I would've dismissed them as a madman, but...damn, that guy seems to unearth some astonishing stuff. The 20 tracks of archival material collected from Egypt, Iran, Iraq, and Turkey here are ample proof of that.
There is a lot of instrumental variety displayed on the archival disc; I am not an expert on traditional Arabic music by any means, but I think I can confidently report that ouds, buzuqs, and violins are all heavily represented (and probably some quanun too!). The tracks vary quite a bit in tone as well, as blistering shredding (such as "Mavaraounnahr") coexists with mournful bowed strings and contemplative drones, but the performances are uniformly virtuosic. I was unable to track down any English language information about him, but multi-instrumentalist Nechat Bey seems to dominate the album, as he contributed five of the twenty tracks, as well as the album's most haunting moment (the achingly sad violin in "Husseini Taxim"). Even without him though, this would be an inarguably compelling listen; few tracks fail to evoke a sense of passion and timelessness.
As for the second album....well, I have some mixed feelings about it. I certainly understand its inclusion, as it makes a case for the continued influence of traditional Middle Eastern string music. However, the presence of contemporary white revivalists here kind of cheapens the experience and ruins my music geek fantasy of embracing something forgotten and obscure. In particular, I found Rick Tomlinson's "Surfin' UAE" to be especially unwelcome and illusion-shattering (I suppose kitschy irreverence has its place and all, but a less forgettable track would have been a welcome substitution). Also, the Charie Parr piece ("Paul Bunyan's Fall") seems as heavily indebted to American blues as it does to the Middle East. It is not a bad track by any means, but I suspect there are dozens of freakfolkies who could've have contributed a more thematically pure work. Finally, the second disc feels somewhat unnecessary and anticlimactic because the evolution of the form has not been especially dramatic (except for production quality). Of course, all that is mere subjective carping- there are some very strong pieces by the usual suspects here (Sir Richard Bishop and Six Organs Of Admittance), as well as some more obscure folks (Micah Blue Smaldone). I even have to grudgingly admit that MV and EE's sitar drone ("You Matter, Sometimes") is quite good, even though they usually leave me rather cold.
While it would have been nice if the second album were optional (and if some information on the artists had been included), Open Strings is undeniably a wholly worthwhile release (and clearly a labor of love). Of course, if you are interested in music of this sort, the opinions of a reviewer are unlikely to sway you either way- this is ground that no one else is in a hurry to cover. Thus, by default, this is both definitive and essential (unless you are an extremely hip nonagenarian that snagged all these releases their first time around). I hope this series thrives and finds an audience, as the EMI Hayes Archives has certainly yielded quite a few forgotten gems and unusual listening experiences already and seems unlikely to be exhausted by a mere handful of compilations.
Originally released on vinyl only in 2008, this album sold out almost immediately and it is quite clear why: these are some thoroughly raucous jams and nobody but Sublime Frequencies is likely to be scavenging though Algerian 45s from the 1970s anytime soon. Ain't no party like an Algerian party.
The title of this album is a bit misleading, as Raï music has been around in various forms since the 1930s. However, the "underground" part is entirely accurate: these recordings are from a controversial transitional period in Rai's history (the birth of Pop Raï) in which secular/Western influences and modern instrumentation began to take a much greater role. The genre's flouting of fundamentalist gender role restrictions and embrace of hipper lyrical matter naturally found a large following among Algerian youth, but did not win any friends in the Islamic government. In fact, the Algerian government even tried to ban Raï entirely in the late 1970s–early '80s due to its association with public female dancing and celebration of alcohol and consumerism, but it thrived in France and at home through black market sale and trade of tapes. Nevertheless, it continued to be a very unpopular musical genre with Islamic extremists for quite some time (Cheb Hasni was even murdered in 1994 for letting girls kiss him on the cheek during a televised concert), although government hostility eased in the '90s and Raï now enjoys considerable mainstream success.
Bellemou & Benfissa's opening track ("Li Maandouche L'Auto" or..um..."He, Who Doesn't Own A Car") begins in a deceptively subdued and droning manner, which makes the eventual introduction of the heavy, unruly, and thoroughly propulsive drums somewhat startling. The album doesn't let up at all after that. It is certainly clear how this sort of thing could result in something as unsettling as public female dancing, as the combination of deep, insistent rhythms and boisterous trumpets create a celebratory feel that must've made inhibitions damn hard to maintain (and rebelling against oppressive regimes is inherently pretty sexy to begin with).
There are no weak or filler tracks. I am quite fond of Boutaiba Sghir's "Dayha Oulabes" ("I'll Marry Her Whether They Like It Or Not"), which sounds like a melancholy mariachi band jamming with some African drummers. Sadness is a recurring theme throughout this album in both the vocals and omnipresent traditional violin/accordion melodies, but rather than drag the songs down, it merely adds some emotional heft to the awesome party that the rhythm section and trumpet players seem to be having. Cheb Zergui's "Ana Dellali" ("I Cuddle Myself") also warrants some mention, as it is the track that most conspicuously betrays a Western influence (featuring a funky bassline, wah-wah guitar, and an atypically laid-back groove). Incidentally, I think something may occasionally be getting lost in the title translations here.
As is often the case with Sublime Frequencies releases, these recording are raw (the drums kind of sound like buckets). The lo-fi production suits the music well, as all eight of the tracks here explode from the speakers and likely approximate at least some of the raw power that must have been present in Wahran's clubs. If I had a grievance, it would be that several of the tracks sound very similar, but that might just be the cultural bias of my boring Western ears. However, this only seems to trouble me when I am listening with extreme reviewer/music nerd scrutiny; this issue vanishes when I listen to this album like a normal person. Also, I was disappointed that no females were represented, given that they were essential (as well as the most endangered and oppressed) proponents of this outlaw culture. Regardless, Hicham Chadly and Sublime Frequencies have compiled some seriously excellent and instantly satisfying music that I never would have heard otherwise, so my quibbles should probably be taken as the irrelevant ramblings of a curmudgeon.
At Brainwaves last year, Peter Christopherson claimed that this album was the best thing he had ever done. Such a lofty claim raised eyebrows and now it is time to see if this is the truth. While I cannot agree with Christopherson, he and Ivan Pavlov have certainly made a fantastic album. It is of a far different character to their previous transmission under the SoiSong name; xAj3z is warm and vibrant compared to the fragility of their debut.
While I found SoiSong’s debut EP to be removed from either Christopherson’s or Pavlov’s style, xAj3z shares a large amount of its DNA with the electronic vocal twisting of Christopherson’s Threshold HouseBoys Choir and with the strange jazz-like sounds that ran through Coil’s posthumous releases. “T-Hu Ri Toh” typifies this approach: a peppy piano motif is slowly mutated as robotic vocals are mangled concurrently. The apparent simplicity of the piece disappears with careful listening as the slight alterations of the various sounds and multiple layers of detail create untold depths to reward deep listeners. This is true of the rest of the album where straightforward ideas are transmutated into something grander by simply shading in the details. For example, Pavlov’s guitar and Ddkern’s drumming on “Dtorumi” along with Christopherson’s electronics make for a track that is reminiscent initially of Portishead. However, through subtle use of processing and arrangement the piece becomes something more exotic and joyous.
What strikes me most about xAj3z is its celebratory mood. This is especially evident in the trumpet calls at the end of the album during “Ti-Di-Ti Naoo” and it is hard to not feel utterly content while the piece plays out (have SoiSong discovered the audio equivalent of Valium?). The contemplative vibe to this album is a marked difference between this album and the duo’s other works (including the SoiSong EP) despite there being so many stylistic similarities between them all. Even on the tracks that I found hard to get into at first (both “J3z” and “Mic Mo” are little too easy listening electronica for my liking), it is difficult to ignore the bliss that runs through the music.
The same care that went into crafting this music has also gone into the packaging for xAj3z. The sleeve is less infuriating than the “disposable” packaging of their debut but it is still quite annoying to try to fold back up. Importantly, it is beautiful to look at; all the angles and odd dimensions make it look like it was designed by Daniel Libeskind. The effort of trying to open it without tearing the sleeve makes the album feel more personal, its tactile nature forcing you to engage with it before it even reaches the CD player. Speaking of players, the CD is again octagonal which means that slot loading disc drives are out of the question (although burning a copy to an ordinary CD-R is the obvious solution). The album’s title also gives access to a section of the SoiSong website which at the moment hosts images connected with xAj3z which is supposed to be expanded in the future so there is a chance that this album could grow in some untold way.
Overall, xAj3z is not what I expected at all and the surprise of how it sounds has made it all the better. Both Christopherson and Pavlov have done a sterling job in creating such a remarkable album. Although it does not make their respective works pale in comparison, it does light them in a warm glow.