We have finally cleared out the backlog of great music and present some new episodes.
Episode 711 features music from The Jesus and Mary Chain, Zola Jesus, Duster, Sangre Nueva, Dialect, The Bug, Cleared, Mount Eerie, Mulatu Astatke & Hoodna Orchestra, Hayden Pedigo, Bistro Boy, and Ibukun Sunday.
Episode 712 has tunes by Mazza Vision, Waveskania, Black Pus, Sam Gendel, Benny Bock, and Hans Kjorstad, Katharina Grosse, Carina Khorkhordina, Tintin Patrone, Billy Roisz, and Stefan Schneider, His Name Is Alive, artificial memory trace, mclusky, Justin Walter, mastroKristo, Başak Günak, and William Basinski.
Episode 713 brings you sounds from Mouse On Mars, Leavs, Lawrence English, Mo Dotti, Wendy Eisenberg, Envy, Ben Lukas Boysen, Cindytalk, Mercury Rev, White Poppy, Anadol & Marie Klock, and Galaxie 500.
Skolavordustigur Street in Reykjavík photo by Jon (your Podcast DJ).
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This is the sound of Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore getting it on under their Mirror/Dash duo. Recorded in May of 2005 at the Le Weekend festival this improv set couldn't be mistaken for the work of anyone else. There is no mistaking the signature sounds of these players, Gordon's vocal remaining the ultimate love-it-or-hate-it sound in alternative circles.
Her unmistakable vocal coos whispers and wanders across I Can’t Be Bought, sieving its way through feedback and shortwave transmissions. Even though it is clear who is performing here, there is still tension and restlessness in this performance. They may have the same tools as one of their quartet shows, but this is no mere Sonic Youth tea-break jam. Most importantly for a set of improvisational guitar music though is the fact that they never relax into plain old noise or get pluckily cerebral.
The shaky tension they create is held tight till the very end of the show, Gordon's coda threat of "Shake!" holding a ragged blade to the feedback's throat. Product of a backstage domestic or just broad open minds, the duo drag a little bit of harrowed muscle onto the stage. Slow slinking notes wind around Gordon's moans and disjointed singing, the guitar skirting the edges of possible rock riff avenues. There's a recurring downwards strum that ties the piece into reality, there's no chance that players this experienced could produce a comeless masturbatory fool around. Passages of chime play out back and forth before the duo pool their resources into great floating masses of sugared quake. Angular shrieks split single notes into a palette of hawked up sounds, that delicately bent crystal glean that they do so well; no one makes the sound of wrestling metal like Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon.
As this is Stereolab's lead vocalist's side-project, Laetitia Sadier's Monade has to suffer comparisons. Less heavy on the rock or drone than her day job, this four-piece go more for the diamante sparkle of lounge music and toe-tap Gallic cute-pop than her other band's heavier krauty feel. This, their second 'real' LP (their first being bedroom recordings), is another reliably steady and similar set of songs that won't set the world ablaze but retain a certain pop charm.
From the tranquil opening "Noir Noir" things don't progress much, Monade roll out the pleasant enough analogue-in-spring warmth with some nifty bass playing to keep things at the right end of perk. The start/stop jangle of some of the music elevates Monade into a more melodic area, away from a whisked smooth listen, adding a couple of edges to pull in a listener. Overall through, there's a gentle flow produced by the similar elements and aesthetic employed across the album, Sadier seemingly drawn into a subtler mind set.
The addition of strings on a couple of tracks adds a Sean O'Hagan tint to the album (again reminiscent of her musical past), making things a little more organic. These bare strings also work well as a balance against the up-tempo bounce of a track like "Entre Chien Et Lou" and its up-tempo change.
Lyrically, Sadier's English can sometimes feel a little heavy-handed, her cod socio-political couplets often left sitting out on their own, unsupported by the backing music ("Elle Topo" galls in particular). On the other hand, as I don't speak French, her native tongue lyrics have always been saved from any scoffing due to their inherent mystery. The album is a placid entity, some of these cuts could easily be on a Stereolab LP even if things here aren't as starkly produced or heavily stamped with that band's aesthetic.
David Reed is obsessed with the dark. Every synapse in his brain aims to realize a stygian monstrosity from the most basic electronic utterances. Into the Void successfully gathers those expressions into a crawling black chorus of sound, like a cantata sung for the terror infinite and empty space can inspire.
A meditative bleakness is amassed over the course of Into the Void with only the most cosmic instruments. The imaginary sounds of a supernova, the electric pulse of magnetic fields, and the icy explosions of colliding asteroids all play a role in Reed's swirling orchestras. And his songs do sound as though they are played by a group of empyrean and sentient beings. Unlike other artists who claim the fertile grounds of noise as their birth place, Reed's work is sober and composed instead of desultory and manic. Explosions radiate and dance with an observable intelligence instead of crashing and decaying senselessly and Reed never allows his bellowing cries to spill over into a continuous and bland stream of white noise.
That dedication to clarity ranks as one of this album's greatest strengths. Beyond being tightly controlled, every detail of Reed's heavenly pandemonium resounds as clearly as a bell no matter how busy it gets. No song depends on microscopic activity, but each breath of solar wind washes through the mix unhindered by sloppy production or over-zealous volume. This allows Reed to use the existing small details in each song to his advantage. On "Gravitational Pull" the presence of a monotonous synthesizer melody acts as a strong contrast to an ever-changing parade of radio noise; the two constantly pull at each other and manifest a tension that would not be possible if either were given over to excess. The absence of familiar musical conventions is made all the more powerful by the inclusion of distinct rhythms and melodic announcements. Both "Mariners" and "Dark Matter" depend on these recognizable features; without them both songs would sound all too static. Yet, if those features were anything more than occasional flourishes both songs would lose their ambiguous terror. Reed constantly plays a game of balance on each track, hushing any surfeit of sound in favor of a well-planned deficit.
Perhaps excess is the attractive and distinguishing feature for many extant experimental outfits, but I'm glad to hear Reed utilizing the power of subtlety and understatement. The spaces he leaves in his music are deceptive, often hiding the most surprising and effective moments. The best portions of this album are accompanied by silence or an illusory sense of it created by spaces opened up in the music; Reed has a talent for creating such abyssal places and decorating them with a real sense of foreboding and uncertainty. His compositions are unique and entirely synthetic, but somehow organic and frighteningly unpredictable despite their well-formed structures.
This is exactly what would be expected from pairing Jamey Jasta with axeman Kirk Windstein, this sludgy metalcore amalgam showcases the best qualities of both parties. Undulating with vibrancy amid its steady cathartic release, their self-titled release propounds an infectious, somewhat transcendent alternative to lesser acts in the crowded heavy music marketplace.
To dedicated fans of Hatebreed and Crowbar, Kingdom of Sorrow exists in a thick, pungent haze of publicity hype that often surrounds so-called metal supergroups, a categorization far better suited to Windstein's southern rock champions Down, which features the always imitated, never duplicated Phil Anselmo alongside his fellow Pantera alumnus Rex Brown and members of Corrosion Of Conformity and Eyehategod. As a passionate aficionado of that star-studded personality cult, I welcomed this new group with enthusiasm, eagerly counting down the days until the album's release. Early dismissive reports of the record on certain blogs seemed absurd as I found myself frequenting their Myspace page almost daily in order to listen repeatedly to the promising pre-release tracks. Although some might grumble that Kingdom of Sorrow doesn't hold a candle to Jasta and Windstein's other bands, I beg to differ, finding plenty to get pumped about from this barbarous, consistent debut.
From the pummeling hardcore of "Lead The Ghosts Astray" to plodding southern doom of "Begging For The Truth," Kingdom of Sorrow offers so much in the way of weighty, hooky riffage and threatening, memorable vocals that this project could possibly eclipse Jasta and Windstein's other ventures. Packing a punch that leaves both a bruise and a long resonating sting, the raucous "Free The Fallen" deserves to be a single if indie stalwart Relapse had chosen to release one. The presumably starstruck Jasta and his wise menacing elder Winstein work wonderfully together, combining their strengths to provide heavy hitters like "Hear This Prayer For Her" and "Buried In Black." In his years fronting Hatebreed, Jasta has voiced bonafide hardcore anthems, not the least of which being the classic "I Will Be Heard" off their career-making Perseverance. Yet the previously resolute screamer throws quite the curveball by actually singing on "Screaming Into The Sky." Apparently channeling his inner Anselmo, the former Headbanger's Ball host alternates between his conventional, crowd-pleasing roar and a more melodic, vulnerable warble as he trudges through heartfelt though sometimes uncomfortably awkward lyrics that find him coping with loss. While Windstein's vocals appear less frequently than his conspirator, his time on the microphone is no less rewarding, as on the agonized ballad "With Unspoken Words."
Unflinching from beginning to end, Kingdom of Sorrow presents Jasta unguarded, a welcome vulnerability not often found on the surface of a genre overflowing with overcompensating tough guys and their sad imitators. Still, that potential chink in the armor comes housed in enough metallic heft and impenetrable fury to withstand any would-be assassins. Besides, when these monstrous tunes are cranked high and the mosh pit erupts, nobody is going to be thinking about Jasta's personal pain.
Mick Barr's latest album sees him take the concept of a face melting guitar solo and turning it into a multi-faceted and layered composition. There is no room here for any straightforward musical structures to provide a basis for Barr to take a solo from; instead he just goes at it without any thoughts given to easing the listener in gently. The concept of free jazz is one familiar to most but here is an example of free metal, the guitar screeching away from the pack and leaving a scorched trail behind it.
Unlike the majority of "guitarscape" albums that are out there, Barr keeps away from slow tempos and low frequencies. With Annwn he instead shreds away, layering complex guitar tracks over other equally complex tracks. The sheer amount of frenzied fret assault brings to mind images of bloodied stumps instead of fingers. The end result is something like having a dozen thrash metal guitarists thrown in a room and telling them to solo away in a given (but loosely defined) key for an indefinite amount of time. The notes are mostly along the midrange and treble end of the frequency spectrum and hit the ears like a hypodermic needle through skin.
Annwn has all the impact of any given Merzbow album—the shrill noise pierces through the room—but unlike noise in general there is a rhythmic and musical direction to the work. This makes it less of a challenge to listen to but makes it far more tiring to experience as my attention is constantly being grabbed by the musical aspects of the album. In a pure noise situation there are always times when you can switch off and rest your mind. There is no such respite here. Barr marches along a path that has been somewhat cleared by the likes of Albert Ayler and Masima Akita but he diverges from them, reaching the same location but from a different route.
This album is a long, testing listen (in a good way). There are so many layers of guitar on any given part of Annwn that it is impossible not to become disorientated when trying to focus on what a particular guitar is doing. This makes for interesting listening as each time I spin the disc there whole tracts of music that I notice that have been previously ignored in order to try and figure out what Barr is playing in the foreground. Due to this huge amount of detail, I am drawn back to Annwn despite it being a thoroughly exhausting way to spend 80 minutes.
I wasn't sure what to expect upon receiving this disc. The stark, digitally treated artwork that adorns the heavy, textured sleeve has little in the way of credits or information, and no specific background on the artist, which is, I'm sure, his intent. A bit of the Google finds that it is the debut release of Greek artist Thanasis Kaproulias, and none of this is needed to enjoy the disc, which lays comfortably between the rough experimentations of proto-industrialists like Throbbing Gristle and the modern day esoteric work of Francisco Lopez and Asmus Tietchens.
Because of the sparse documentation, it is hard to make assumptions as to what exactly is going on here, but on the surface it feels like a good amount of digitally generated content with heavily treated acoustic sounds as well. The quiet crackling that opens "Everything Looks Better Beside Water" could be fire, it could be paper, or it could be entirely modeled via software for all I know. The rushing water sounds feel much more organic though, and conversely the deep electronic pulsing sounds purely digital. Bizarre rhythmic elements appear in moderation at the end of both this track and the ending "Crawling on the Pavements of Your Skull" that are obviously percussive and rhythmic, but have a color that is entirely unique, resembling a beatbox made from bones and animal hides.
There are clear elements of pure noise as well: the high frequency infrasonic tones that open and conclude "Oh You Sweet and Spontaneous Earth…You Answered Them Only With Spring" will certainly grate on less dedicated listeners, as will the white noise and overdriven thuds that appear on occasion in the aforementioned "Crawling" track. While dissonant, it never becomes overwhelmingly oppressive or does it compromise the nuances of the more restrained elements in the mix. "Oh You Sweet.." features a complex mishmash of tones that manages to both seem completely chaotic, yet retain a structured, almost melodic vibe as well.
One of the most jarring elements comes in at the midpoint of "Crawling…," which features an untreated dialog extract of Liv Ullman from Bergman's The Passion of Anna. As it demarks the midpoint of the track, it is an oddly familiar element to a work that is so heavily focused on sounds that are unrecognizable and alien. Yet it doesn't detract at all from the work, it instead functions as an oddly comfortable signpost in an alien world of sound.
As a debut, Novi_sed has already created a quality work that wouldn't be out of the place in the catalog of a Marc Beherens or Francisco Lopez, and would seem to be the beginnings of an artist to watch. It's definitely worth tracking down, and I hope the obscurity of this work doesn't cause it to be lost in the shuffle.
In some ways this work is reminiscent to the Gunter Muller disc I covered last year as it presents a percussionist using his instruments in a way that mostly does not resemble drums or anything usually associated with the style. Instead it is heavily processed and treated to take on an entirely different quality and tone. It is a very interesting work, but the presentation is almost a bit too familiar.
It isn't entirely impossible to recognize some of what is traditionally associated with drums, sonically, at least, through this album. There are some traditional drum skin rattles smattered across here and there, but not too obvious unless the effort is made to hear them. Instead there is significantly more incidents where the sound is shaped into a more dense collage, like the dense roar that is the title track which eventually resembles a massive stampede of wildebeests moving across the plains. "Drgacze" is a notable contrast to the verdant visuals of the aforementioned track, the rattles come across like an industrial jackhammer before a metal percussion section comes in that sounds like a gamelan band being physically assaulted during their performance.
The tracks in which the sounds are even less identifiable are, in my opinion, more fascinating. The rather simplistic, in a structural capacity at least, "O_vbrdub," is a slow moving mudslide of organic sounds: a thick and sticky slow motion avalanche of textual sound. At the same time, "Sink" rests upon a bed of harsh siren like loops and scraping high end rattles of noise alongside a digital micro-sample buzzing and cutting, slicing metallic sounds.
The album ends with the most dissonant tracks. "Aigua Per A" features a violent buzzing noise that wouldn't have been out of place on a peak-era Whitehouse album with sustained digital micro-sample stuttering and mechanical elements. The disc closes on an especially dark note, the low end rumble with clattering cymbals of "Diners Per N," which is nothing but sinister and looming
Musically, it is a very unique experiment that is extremely diverse without being the work of a dilettante. While it might seem to lack any specific thematic cohesion or overarching structure, it remains consistently interesting through its duration. The packaging, however, is coming from a much less unique background. While it is attractive, the matchbook folding cover is very, very close to the Utech label's Arc series of discs from last year, right down to the die cut black sleeve that holds the CD. I'm sure this something done for cost effective reasons, it is too similar to the Utech stuff to go unmentioned. Again, no slight against the artist for this, but it had to be said. Sorry.
Somewhere between Dan the Automater, Ennio Morricone, and Leonard Cohen, lies Barry Adamson. Over a wide-ranging career as a film composer, a founding member of both Magazine and Nick Cave's Bad Seeds, and a solo artist, his music has continuously looked to the future. However, 'Back to the Cat', Adamson's seventh record, finds him looking to the past, gaining inspiration from some of his favorite artists from the past 18 years.
Not that Adamson is aping anyone on this record; you can hear strains of Elvis or Jacques Brel, but it remains unmistakably Barry Adamson. Just one track, "Shadow Of Death Hotel," manages to seamlessly stitch together the sounds of a guitar and flute from a '70s funk song, Jackie Mittoo's keyboards, the horn section from the Mike Hammer theme, and some Butch-Vig-ish fuzzed out guitars. By the next track, he's on to channeling Al Green. Other touchstones include Curtis Mayfield, Leonard Cohen, Serge Gainsbourg, and more.
Barry premiered this album in full at the recent London Jazz Festival (the least "jazz" thing there, by far), headlining two sold-out nights at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. The album went over amazingly. Barry Adamson will be in New York City and available for press from February 28th to March 2nd.
Release dates:
Digital (worldwide): March 17th, 2008 CD/LP (UK/EU): March 31st, 2008 CD/LP (US/Australia): April 22nd, 2008
Tracklisting:
1. The Beaten Side Of Town 2. Straight 'Til Sunrise 3. Spend A Little Time 4. Shadow Of Death Hotel 5. I Could Love You 6. Walk On Fire 7. Flight 8.Civilization 9. People 10. Psycho_Sexual
Tour dates:
03/31 Oxford, Academy, UK 04/01 Edinburgh, Voodoo Rooms, UK 04/02 Glasgow, Oran Mor, UK 04/04 Manchester, Lowry Theatre, UK 04/05 Nottingham, Rescue Rooms, UK 04/06 Bristol, Thekla, UK 04/07 Berlin, Privatclub, Germany 04/09 London, Pigalle Clu, UK 04/10 Brighton, Komedia, UK 04/12 Paris, Noveau Casino, France 06/18 Brisbane, The Zoo, Australia 06/19 Melbourne, The Corner Hotel, Australia 06/20 Sydney, The Factory, Australia 06/21 Perth, The Bakery Artrage Complex, Australia Read More
Catalog number BAD VCCD51 / BAD VC51 / BAD VCP51 CD / 2x10 inch LP / 2x10 inch LP picture disc From Autumnal to Vernal Equinox, this is the Death In June Winter tree. Stripped bare, but for thirteen of its branches. But they are as strong as ever, and with thirteen glasses and one last toast, this new album captures the true essence of Death In June, again setting new standards in its self-created genre. Let the Blackbirds kiss you and may The Rule Of Thirds dictate your life.
NER/NERUS, in association with Soleilmoon, is proud to announce the first new Death In June studio album in more than three years. The CD is presented in an embossed softpak with 16 page lyric book. The double 10 inch vinyl edition comes in two versions: An edition of 1500 copies in black vinyl, and a very limited edition of 500 picture discs. Both are packaged in an embossed gatefold sleeve with a large fold-out poster with lyrics and photo.
Track Listing:
THE GLASS COFFIN / FOREVER LOVES DECAY / JESUS, JUNK AND THE JURISDICTION / IDOLATRY / GOOD MOURNING SUN / THE PERFUME OF TRAITORS / LAST EUROPA KISS / THE RULE OF THIRDS / TRULY BE / THEIR DECEPTION / MY RHINE ATROCITY / TAKEYYA / LET GO. Read More
Having had the privilege and pleasure to catch this dazzlingly deviant duo in concert on several occasions this decade, this album of covers seemed all but inevitable. Here, much to my delight, the diminutive diva and her frizzy-haired ivory tickler present some of these practiced though never before released songs on disc for the very first time.
Mixing what might be called standards with more contemporary pop fare, When Good Things Happen to Bad Pianos re-imagines the established originals through Paul Wallfisch's spare, smoky piano arrangements and Little Annie Anxiety Bandez's uniquely experienced and moving vocal tone. The cover artwork depicting a severely neglected and surely abused piano may be striking, but this menacing exterior does no justice to the delicate, exquisite artistry enclosed within. Annie sounds perfectly at home on comfortable cuts like the Barbara Streisand staple "The Summer Knows" as well as the excessively interpreted "Yesterday When I Was Young" and "Song For You." Yet with Wallfisch at her side, she regularly finds ways to challenge herself while paying tribute to the songs she so clearly loves. After listening to this album, I cannot fathom a more suitable singer to tackle the Mark Knopfler penned Tina Turner classic "Private Dancer" than Annie. Matching and, at times, even exceeding Turner's distinct delivery, she evokes the desperation and disgust of the lyrics, all without going over the top even for a second.
Despite my learned familiarity with her repertoire, Annie still manages to deliver a surprise or two. She sounds downright bluesy on Candi Stanton's 1978 disco hit "Victim," which features guitar work and backing vocals from New York music mainstay Kid Congo Powers. Of course the biggest shocker has to be the restrained cover of U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I’m Looking For." Though the overplayed original continues to haunt a pre-programmed Clear Channel station near you, Wallfisch ascetically hones in on the melody buried under all that production work to lay a base for Annie to croon and riff over.
Although not as compelling as the incomparable Songs from the Coal Mine Canary, the magnificent 2006 album of originals, the immensely enjoyable When Good Things Happen to Bad Pianos hardly classifies as a stopgap release. Unlike other artists who toss out covers records for less than legitimate purposes, these cherished interpretations are just as much a part of the Little Annie and Paul Wallfisch experience as their own material.
Collecting six vinyl-only songs onto CD for the first time, including the band's 12" debut, this album from highlights their jazz-inflected soundtracks for movies that don't exist. Among these tracks are remixes by Four Tet and Sybarite, who pick up the pace with their unique contributions yet keep the mood intact.
With lush production that often strays into gorgeous territory, this is a pleasant album that won’t ruffle any feathers. Fronted by a horn, the group seems more like a jazz combo than a rock band. They also use some lightly processed effects and electronics but these are mixed unobtrusively into the ambience without ever coming to the fore. My only complaint is that while the band are adept musicians, their songwriting tends to relegate the music to the background because nothing ever jumps out as being terribly memorable. It is the sort of thing I could listen to all day yet be able to recall very little of afterwards. The songs have their own trajectory, but the payoff is rarely dramatic enough to elicit any emotional satisfaction.
On the other hand, the remixes add some distinction to the material. Four Tet's remix of "Gardening, Not Architecture" lends urgency to the rhythm and integrates high-pitched bleeps into the mix that give the song its distinctive character. Even better is Sybarite's remix of "Invisible Cities," which uses electronics to bring about even more explicit changes in the music with a strong beat and loops.
As a collection of tracks and not something originally conceived as an album unto itself, these songs are of a consistently high quality, each one as enjoyable as the last. There's not a lot here for me to sink my teeth into, but it works just as well as an enjoyable appetizer for the band's forthcoming full-length.