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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Low Point's first vinyl release once again sees Hardwick trounce his unfortunate flipside ally. Although his side of the release is played on lap steel, Hardwick makes "Lost in the Memory" more reminiscent of '70s synth waves than the actual instrument.
The melody may be a little odd, taking a while to generate earworms, but has a real lamenting intensification. Purposefully or not, Hardwick seems to have been on a real Eno-esque run lately. In the face of such competition Machinefabriek come off worse, the balance between ingredients seeming a little randomly strewn. Left floating for a little too long, the elements used bring to mind some of the botch attempts at soundscapes made by Hafler Trio.There are a few endearing rough edges (feedback and static), but repeated listens don't offer anything further. Read More
Low Point's first vinyl release once again sees Hardwick trounce his unfortunate flipside ally. Although his side of the release is played on lap steel, Hardwick makes "Lost in the Memory" more reminiscent of '70s synth waves than the actual instrument.
The latest from Austin, Texas' Canartic is a collage of down-tempo dub, spacey electronics, processed guitar, and samples. Unfortunately the group doesn't do much innovation with these elements, instead making music which is all too ordinary.
Part of the problem is that the group uses the same basic blueprint for each song, with little variation. The tempo remains constant from track to track, the bass never quite hits an engaging groove like good dub should, and the guitar is more of an accent than a lead. With little of interest to latch on to, I found my mind wandering far more often than not. While song titles like "London 67" and "Syd's Psychedelic Adventure" raised my hopes for something wild and offbeat, the former is overly introspective and mellow while the latter relies too heavily on samples, is only loosely psychedelic and not adventurous at all. All but one of the eight songs are over five minutes in length, meandering all over the place but not going anywhere.
The album's mood is consistently relaxed but lethargic, inspiring little devotion. What little atmosphere it generates is mostly lifeless, and the production is dull and antiseptic. More than anything, it just didn’t take me anywhere I haven’t been before.
Canadian electronic musician Hugo Girard has taken an interest in the subject of hypnosis and created an album based around the idea of simulating or accompanying a session through the employment of analogue electronic drones, sequences, and rhythms.
Hypnosis is one of those things people are eternally fascinated by and about which many myths have been generated, not to mention also spawning a self-help industry in which the process is utilised to aid in quitting smoking, overcoming phobias, and similar. Plus, who hasn't come across the thrilling mystery story plot where the evil villain (with the use of the ubiquitous pocket-watch and a ridiculous moustache) hypnotises some unfortunate innocent victim into committing a dreadfully heinous crime in his stead.
Vromb's music is characterised by subtlety of composition, constructed from washes of wave-like drones, subtle tones, and quiet electronic sequenced rhythms that constantly change and metamorphose; and strange voices speaking in French add to the sense of experiencing an altered state. The music has a serpentine quality, undulating and deeply hypnotic (pun intended), insinuating itself into the deepest levels of the consciousness and crawling into the crevices of the subconscious where the darkest secrets hide. The beauty of it is that there is nothing overt about the music; instead just the merest hint of a suggestive influence at work. Put the headphones on, lie back and let it all wash over and seep in. That said however, I felt a slight uneasiness bubbling away like an undercurrent, as if to point out that hypnosis is not necessarily healthy or beneficent and that like most things it also has a dark side; for me though it is that merest suggestion of an edge of darkness that defines the music's attractiveness. This could, indeed should, be classified as an intelligent rendering of ambient dance, the sounds and rhythms evolving naturally and following on one from the other easily; this is definitely music for the head and not for the feet. As reluctant as I am to employ comparisons I will just this once reference early- to mid-'70s Tangerine Dream as a way of providing some musical co-ordinates, especially in terms of the sequencer rhythms.
Personally I have always been a tad suspicious about claims that such music can induce altered states of consciousness, principally because the claims made seem so fantastic and overblown. What surprised me about this release was the fact that I caught a tiny glimpse of the possibility that specific sounds and cyclic tones can indeed produce the desired effect in the brains of those so attuned. Even on a purely superficial level this is a thoroughly relaxing album but not in the vapid or insipid New Age sense; this has enough darkness and bite to make it engaging and satisfying on both a musical and intellectual level, plus you could actually shuffle and sway to it if you were so inclined.
B.Baphomet's rough hand-cranked dark ambient is nowhere near the detached (I think they call it 'glacial') end of that market, its measured input of black/doom influences giving it a living cruder feel. The solid elements like bass notes on Einslpundahgn's "Dronedisciple" and "Rites Ov Catharsis" aid in preventing it from becoming a straight mood exercise or too dredging or sludgy. As enjoyable as this inward disdain is, it is only when B.Baphomet steps away from the darker moods that the music connects for me.
The two darker pieces suffer slightly from odd elements creeping into the blend of sounds. Bleeps and excessive use of oscillated noises means that moods are fractured and left unable to heal in time. When "Our Hearts Would Break," the final track arrives in a spooked-out rain of rhodes and vibraphone it almost immediately melts into gorgeous. There's such a great bass line and a huge positivity about the whole piece that it smacks of heavy ocular treats.
The whole thing breathes like some classic Hancock / Ayers track put through drone filters. It sounds like the work of a man who couldn't even comprehend the concept of misanthropy. Maybe Myk Colby aka B.Baphomet needs a new pseudynoum to explore this territory further.
On Stare of Dawn the Chris Hladowski (Scatter and The One Ensemble) helmed The Family Elan is intuitively shaping new music from traditional ethnic folk forms. With melodic phrases and sounds from (what sounds like it could be) the Baltic States, Turkey or the Middle East, Hladowski even summons up medieval folk to contribute to the mix of flavours. Playing instruments like bouzouki and long-necked lute (I think) he creates a drive and draw as the music falls in and out of stable forms, reluctant to come back to earth to settle as a model melody.
Complemented by Hanna Tuulikki's (Nalle / Scatter) tangling fiddle and woodwind, there are light circlets of drone around some of the playing. But Hladowski's playing feels most heavily indebted to rhythms, the individual layers may be gently picked and played but it is possible to hear his strumming as a refined thrash of tantalizing colours and notes. The actual rhythms played here, a tambourine's sharp petal shake, take second place to this more fluid playing. Movement feels an inferred recurring theme here, the spinning sense of dervish motion on "Monumental" and the river flow majesty of "Cascade Danse of Airs."
While not an obvious spiritually indebted record, Stare of Dawn feels like it delicately flirts with something above and beyond. The lyrics are reasonably scarce, seeming more like chants or entreaties than clear-cut lyricism. There is a snag in the splendor of sound that comes right at the album's end, "Over the Hills and Fields I Wander (The Dells of Earthly Wonder)" seems to unspool unsatisfying to its conclusion. Notwithstanding this slip, Stare of Dawn is an intimate and precious record.
The second full length from these American black metallers lives up to their feral and deadly-sounding name; each of the four songs on this disc stalk like the canine predator of the band's name. The group refine the techniques they developed on their first album; the mixture of classic black metal with other, gentler influences comes together wonderfully this time.
Two Hunters is a much stronger beast than the band's first album. While I enjoyed their debut parts of it were a little too melodramatic for me. This is not the case here. Opening with the genuinely surprising "Dea Artio," a slow and almost ambient exploration in mood, it is obvious from the start that Wolves in the Throne Room are not a one-trick pony. I could listen to a whole album in this style but like a razor blade through flesh the next song rips through the delicate mood of "Dea Artio."
The bulk of this album is the same sort of black metal that the group displayed on their previous release. Solid, crushing drumming with a twin guitar attack that veers from sand blasts of musical assault to more complex melodic sections with nods to classic metal like Iron Maiden and in part to folk music in general. This is especially apparent in the final section of "I Will Lay Down My Bones Among The Rocks and Roots" with its beautiful interlude before the final storm of guitars. "Cleansing" begins with a gentle bass line and vocal harmonies care of Jessica Kinney; the type of thing on Diadem of 12 Stars that seemed a little cheesy to my ears. However, this time around they have perfected the balance between heaviness and drama. This is the sort of album that I wished for.
Southern Lord's black metal releases are hit or miss; for every good one there are a couple of absolute stinkers. Two Hunters is one tick in the right column; Wolves in the Throne Room are worth a dozen boring Burzum-by-numbers. They may not be pushing the genre's boundaries in any significant way but within those boundaries they are creating some stunning music. As much as I prize innovation, there is a lot to be said for taking an almost dead formula and squeezing a gem out of it.
The improvisational, instrumental noise/rock trio known as Grey Daturas, hailing from Melbourne, Australia, have been kicking around making as much noise as is humanly possible since 2001, starting out by improvising live soundtracks to 16mm film projections and then over the years notching up many live shows, supporting such acts as Sunn O))), d. Yellow Swans, Dismember, and Isis. Dead in the Woods is actually a re-release of their second album, originally appearing on the Crashing Jets label in 2004.
These three nuclear alchemists of the impending apocalypse, Bonnie Mercer, Robert McManus and Robert Mayson have, through some arcane understanding of sound, built a weapon of total musical destruction, using nothing more than the standard formula of guitar, bass, and drums. Right from the get-go, when the nuclear furnace that is the album opener "Force is a Weapon of the Weak" explodes out of the speakers in a critical mass of fuzzed out radiation and high-pitched particle feedback, the Grey Daturas make it clear in no uncertain terms that they intend to level everything in sight and to strip the flesh from bones with the bright white hot flash of their monstrous sound. The immediate aftermath of that initial explosion continues with the onslaught of "She was the Cutie of Camp Cooke," starting off with a slow bass figure that then detonates into an irresistible momentum which lays to waste anything that stands in its path; and once that momentum has been gained and attained it doesn't let up. This is the sonic equivalent of shock and awe tactics.
Then just when it feels safe to raise above the lip of the trench in the silence that follows, along comes "A Japanese Romance" to first of all lull you into a false sense of security that everything's settled down.... however that illusion is swept aside as yet another wave of noise stealthily creeps up and demolishes what's remaining. So it goes on, wave after wave; the sheer weight of controlled aggression just keeps piling up and up, over and over, unrelentingly and unremittingly. "Running Amok with Knives" and the follow on track "My Sciatica" sound like the final breakdown, when the fabric holding everything together tears at last under the pressure; there is nothing now to stop the irreversible devolution. This is what the end of the world is going to sound like; as if to emphasise this "Overdue Resignation" indisputably underlines the fact.
The strength of this album shouldn't be measured in terms of decibels but in megatonnage. I have heard many similar albums in my time, but very rarely have I come across music of such heavyweight behemoth-like proportions. It is simply gargantuan.
The sparse credits that accompany this disc do not make clear if this is an actual collaboration or a split release, though it is obvious that Swedish electronics wizard Nilsen leads the way on the first piece, while everyone's favorite industrial percussionist is the focus of the second. Regardless, the cryptic liner notes and black-on-black artwork are completely appropriate visual representations of the dark expanse that constitutes this album.
The track credited specifically to Nilsen is a slow, sparse drift of electronics. Although obviously synthetic in creation, it feels like the sound of massive strings the thickness of telephone wires being played, creating thick, bassy waves of sound. What sounds like it could be some of Z'EV's percussion elements are treated down to a gentle vibration, like a loose panel on the side of vibrating machinery. It is a dark affair through and through, with the sweeping low end punctuated with bizarre mechanical hums that pile on a sense of impending doom and destruction.
In some ways, the second track specifically credited to Z'EV is the polar opposite: it is more explosive force and energy next to Nilsen's inertial drift. The track is heavily comprised of the heavily reverberating metallic percussion elements he is known for, with only enough processing to let their impact transfer fully to a recorded medium. Interestingly, there are some passages that take small digital delays of the sound and use them to shape and mould the sound, as opposed to just the actual percussive elements. The overall track becomes as much about the microcosmic sonic debris as it is about the explosive metallic pulse. Compositionally, there is also a great deal of moments in which the sound swells to an explosive, chaotic climax before dissipating to near silence, akin to some of Hermann Nitsch's compositional work for his Orgies Mysteries Theater.
Although only two tracks (both clocking in at, unsurprisingly, 22:22 excluding a few seconds padding for mastering purposes) are listed in the liner notes, a third, also of the same length, is on the disc as well. Although largely silent, there is a small, short reprise in the closing few minutes of restrained metallic thump and clatter that could be some original source material, and outtake, or something else entirely. Regardless, it is there, and makes an interesting footnote.
This is overall a somewhat difficult disc since it does stylistically shift greatly from one half to the other, and therefore takes a listener who is willing to accept both extremes. However, Nilsen's minimal electronics compliment Z'EV's maximal percussion nicely, and the dark, yet beautiful mood is surely consistent between both of the long pieces, and thus make it a more appropriate combination than words or descriptions alone would seem.
Titled after a Greek ritual that forms a conceptual background for the disc, this duo leads an ethnographic journey that is every bit as disturbing and frightening as expected, given that the title translates to "exchange of eyes." Marchetti's compulsive attention to detail couples with Murayama's creepy vocalisms to make for a compelling, dramatic work.
Across five tracks, they slowly introduce this hazy world of ritual, where nothing is overtly clear but instead provides only the rudimentary framework to allow the images to be brought up by imagination, and what vivid, disturbing images they become. Most elements of nature are even used in this ritual, with water splashes, crackling fire, and the sounds of stones crashing into each other. Murayama supplements Marchetti's regulated layers of sound with heavy percussion, sometimes sounding like oil drums being instituted in the classic industrial style, other times as dramatic and classical as traditional Noh theater.
I'm hesitant to refer to any of this as "found sounds" or "field recordings," because both imply a sense of chaos and randomness, when the use of them here is so structured and focused. These ambient sounds are treated in this case as another instrument, along with, what I can only assume, is more traditional electronic instrumentation being used to treat the sounds, as well as instruments in their own right, like piercing high end sine waves and swelling, low end bass pulses. The treatment of the natural sounds is used to quite a frightening effect on the second track, however. The sound of what could only be a dog playing with a microphone, sniffing it, snorting, yelping, growling, all things expected of a dog forms a major part of the track. Then, a bit of chaos and audio violence and, through treated effects, the barks become more pained and tortured. While it is obviously from studio processing, it is a disturbing and visceral effect.
Special attention should also be made to Murayama's vocalisms throughout the disc. Rarely processed or treated, he gives some of the most pained, agonizing rasps and growls ever recorded to disk. The only parallel I can draw is akin to Malefic's notorious casket vocals on Sunn O)))'s Black One, but more alien and isolated. Without the need of studio effects, he produces some horribly unnatural sounds, resembling a person trying to communicate as a heavy weight is slowly crushing them to death.
This realm of musique concrete is often painted as a dry, academic field that is more about building an artists vita rather than entertaining, but this is not the approach these two artists take. Although no less complex than such pursuits, it is both highly conceptual and infinitely fascinating: a harrowing, frightening, and compelling audio drama that reveals different facets of this ritual with each listen.
This new semi-regular feature of notable new dance singles is inaugurated with reviews of Holy Ghost!, Syclops, Professor Genius, Kavinsky, Surgeon and Blast Head.
The two guys in Brooklyn's Holy Ghost! released an album under the name Automato a few years ago, an indie HipHop album with the distinction of being produced by Tim Goldsworthy and James Murphy of the DFA. The album was poorly received by many, including me. On paper, the idea sounded great; in reality, it was boring. The duo went on to be part of The Juan Maclean's live touring band, and something major rubbed off on them. Their first single as Holy Ghost! is a thing of rare beauty: a soulful, sophisticated slice of thumping vocal disco capable of snapping spines and concussing heads. The elements are all familiar: gated synth lead, air-pushing bassline, phased electric piano, snappy hi-hats. What pushes this over the top is the vocals, which add an unbelievable melodic hook, turning this track into something that cannily straddles radio-friendly pop and uptown groove. The lyrics are suggestive but meaningless: "Hold tight, don't make no plans/Don't talk, don't say no words/Be still, don't move like this/Hold on, until it kills." The whole thing is unbelievably cool, and is well-served on DFA's usual slab of plain-sleeved DJ vinyl, which adds an instrumental and a remix by French disco-house producers Blackjoy. Usually I'd be excited about an instrumental version, but the vocals here are half the fun. Blackjoy's remix adds layers of compression, wokka-jawokka bass and funky percussion. They make it sound more professional, but they also kill the wide-open spaces of the original in the process. The A-Side wins, hands-down.
Syclops, "Where's Jason's K"/"Monkey Puss" Another fabulous new single for DFA, who have finally ended a bit of a losing streak after lackluster full-lengths by Prinzhorn Dance School and the Shocking Pinks. Syclops is yet another nom de guerre for Dr. Scratch himself, Maurice Fulton, surely one of the more mysterious members of the techno/house elite. As Syclops, Fulton makes geeked-up robot funk that is minimal in architecture, but maximal in effect. The synthetic kick drum on "Where's Jason's K" threatens to get boring quickly, before it is joined by itchy maracas, cowbell and an indescribably infectious 1/16th note lead melody that keeps changing subtly, but never fails to give up the goods. It's like the best possible cool jazz piano solo ever, but abstracted into plasticated Ketamine land. The B-side is every bit as fucked-up, constructed from chirpy, ultra-compressed 8bit chiptune kinda sounds, layered with a crisp, snappy rhythm section that just doesn't quit, even when it is unceremoniously dropped into the dub chamber. This one is right out of left field, and all the better for it.
Self-important music blogs the world over have already done a good job fawning all over the Italians Do It Better label, acting as if IDIB had singlehandedly engineered the Italo-disco comeback. The truth is that Italo-disco never went away, it just stopped being cool for a few years while critics and tastemakers busied themselves jacking off all over minimal house and flabby electro bullshit. For good or bad, it's officially "back" now, and the unprecedented popularity of the IDIB label sampler After Dark certainly proves it. Of all the artists represented on that compilation, far and away the best is Professor Genius, who recently released a stunning full-length CD-R on the hopelessly obscure Tropical Computer System label. This single contains three tracks from the full-length, and got a nice 12" vinyl release on IDIB. Professor Genius works his analog synths with the panache of a seasoned pro, creating sparkling atmospheric disco numbers that stretch out into a rainbow-colored infinity. If Goblin and Giorgio Moroder could have conceived a love child while listening to Kano, it would probably sound nothing like Professor Genius. "La Grotta" has an insistent rhythm section which serves as a foil of the whimsically enfolding synths, which vacillate between nasty and angelic. The infernal "Hot Dice" is darker and druggier, with plenty of ear-massaging bass polyphony, while "Across the Spree" brings things back up to heaven again, the soundtrack to an episode of Miami Vice in which Crockett and Tubbs try to intercept a shipment of black tar heroin into Cloud City.
I've been a little bit underwhelmed by the preponderance of hyper-compressed, sample-heavy French disco-house groups lately. As far as I'm concerned, Daft Punk, Justice and the whole Ed Banger crew need to learn some new tricks, because overcompressing samples of old Cerrone tracks is only amusing the first five-hundred times you hear it. Kavinsky is certainly a member of this crew, but he keeps things fresh by injecting a goodly portion of Italo-disco into his headbanging disco-house. Making use of clean synth lines, purposely cheesy string stabs, hyper-tweaked guitar solos, and crunchy kicks that still retain a nice, hard snap to them, Kavinsky creates a thrilling retro-disco concoction that doesn't feel completely claustrophobic and deafening. The tracks on the 1986 EP are frequently blood-pumping, heart-pounding examples of how to do retro right. Things falter a bit with SebatiAn's remix of "Testarossa Overdrive," which succeeds at cramming Kavinsky's sound back into the stifling straightjacket of Ed Banger-style compression-house, and can't sustain its five-minute length. However, the EP ends with the beautiful and triumphant "Grand Canyon," which makes it sound as if nothing has really changed since 1986, except for everything.
Surgeon, "Whose Bad Hands Are These? Part II" Dynamic Tension
Anthony Child has existed at the very brink of techno for more than a decade now, a reliable purveyor of intense, machinic 4/4 stomp compounded with layers of hellish resonance. The music is hard as nails and dances at the giddy, vertiginous edge of industrial and power noise, but always lands firmly inside the realm of hardcore techno. Child has never been shy about wearing his influences on his sleeve. As an ardent fan of Coil, Whitehouse and other such non-traditional fare (for dance producers, anyway), Surgeon has carved out his own niche in the world of dance: the pleasurable punisher, the enforcer of sado-ecstatic technoise. This new one on Surgeon's own Dynamic Tension label, the second part of a conceptual pair, is just what everyone looks for in a Surgeon record: a devastating mixture of doomsday dirge and apocalyptic rave-up, complex crunchy textures slamming into resonated plonks pulled straight from Satan's asshole. There is a bit of an influence from British dubstep in evidence on this EP, and not just because Vex'd turns in a remix. Something about the way the surface noise and echo are used seems to suggest the work of Burial and Vex'd, without falling into their annoying habit of just giving up on the groove completely.
I don't know anything about this Japanese duo, and I don't really care. This tasty slab of hard-to-find DJ vinyl reproduces two tracks from their full-length album Outdoor, and evidences two different approaches meeting and shaking hands on a crowded dancefloor. On "Slide Out," the idea is percolating synthesizers, dub-style circulations of compounding delay, and sunshine-bright sequences of beeps and boops. Blast Head's music displays the Japanese gift (or curse?) for preciousness and cartoonish pastiche, but a complex backbone of jazzy electric organ gives this a sophistication that would make it fit right in with the classiest uptempo lounge music that NYC, Paris or Ibiza could hope to produce. "Soft Step" takes the jazz a step further, a whacked-out samba-house number that pours it on thick, but keeps things bubbly and light as air. The effect is reminiscent to some of Japan's weirder, exotica-tinged entries into hyperspeed jungle (think The Lift Boys or J.O.Y.), but the microscopic precision and care with which this track was obviously constructed make it a pure and guiltless pleasure.