We have finally cleared out the backlog of great music and present some new episodes.
Episode 711 features music from The Jesus and Mary Chain, Zola Jesus, Duster, Sangre Nueva, Dialect, The Bug, Cleared, Mount Eerie, Mulatu Astatke & Hoodna Orchestra, Hayden Pedigo, Bistro Boy, and Ibukun Sunday.
Episode 712 has tunes by Mazza Vision, Waveskania, Black Pus, Sam Gendel, Benny Bock, and Hans Kjorstad, Katharina Grosse, Carina Khorkhordina, Tintin Patrone, Billy Roisz, and Stefan Schneider, His Name Is Alive, artificial memory trace, mclusky, Justin Walter, mastroKristo, Başak Günak, and William Basinski.
Episode 713 brings you sounds from Mouse On Mars, Leavs, Lawrence English, Mo Dotti, Wendy Eisenberg, Envy, Ben Lukas Boysen, Cindytalk, Mercury Rev, White Poppy, Anadol & Marie Klock, and Galaxie 500.
Skolavordustigur Street in Reykjavík photo by Jon (your Podcast DJ).
Get involved: subscribe, review, rate, share with your friends, send images!
Four German composers (Stefan Funck, Gregory Buttner, Asmus Tietchens and Nicolai Stephan) had been meeting in Room 318 for years, but the room had a problem. The heating system didn't work, and made odd noises. Surely a distraction, but with artists like these, they made the natural decision: use the odd noises of the radiators and make an album out of them.
The compilation demonstrates the unique styles of the four artists: even though they all utilized the same five minutes of source material ("Ausgangsmaterial," the final track on the disc), each shaped it into their own different and unique work, making sure that none sound like the other. Stefan Funck's four short pieces differ vastly from one to another, from the minimal slow burn power electronics of "Version Paris-Dakar" (like Whitehouse's "Told" without the misogynist vocals) to what could be initially a cover of Throbbing Gristle's "IBM" done with electric guitar feedback ("Version Vier Hauser"). Buttner's massive contribution, the 14 minute "Heiz" is swathed in reverb and the processed sounds of water dripping, which builds in layers over time, but still retains a distant, subtle tenor that could be a field recording of alien life somewhere deep in the cosmos.
Nicolai Stephan's "Ziehung" is not nearly as complex as the others, based around the sound of a stuttering tape and reversed delays. It's interesting but feels somewhat amateurish compared to the other tracks, and even more so considering it follows avant garde legend Asmus Tietchens' brilliant contribution, "Keine Warme," which is three minutes of rhythmic rattling and noise processed into melody before dropping off into a wind chamber, then coming back in a similarly musical, but with an entirely different sonic pallet for seven more minutes. For this type of music's complexity and obliqueness, Tietchens' piece is extremely accessible and listenable.
As aforementioned, the source material is included as an appendix on the disc, and while we can safely assume it is not something that will make it into heavy rotation, it is good to hear what exactly was used as the proverbial seed for this recording. It is exactly what would be expected: the high pitched whistle of a messed up radiator and the deep gurgling and dripping of water being passed through it.
To be perfectly clear, this is chin stroking music, not something to put on while cleaning the house or entertaining guests. With that in mind, however, it does make for an interesting listen if the proper attention can be paid. It makes for a fascinating example of how many variations can be placed on a simple theme, and just how unique artists of a similar ilk can be.
By now, it's common knowledge among music geeks that Johnny Rotten, a gutter poet long before it was either cool or cliched, was a huge reggae fan. While not as iconic as the still venomous Sex Pistol, weathered punk Tim Armstrong rasps his way into mid-life through this belated solo debut that displays an ardent love of classic Jamaican music.
Having found fame and respect without prostrating himself for the majors, Armstrong's credentialed catalog stretches collectively over two decades with the influential ska punks Operation Ivy, the consistently credible Rancid, and the unexpectedly plausible Transplants. Released on his own Hellcat Records, a vanity imprint of enduring punk indie Epitaph, A Poet's Life takes its cues from ska and rocksteady legends such as Prince Buster and Toots and the Maytals. Featuring labelmates The Aggrolites as his backing band, Armstrong abandons the studio sheen of his Transplants "supergroup" for these ten stripped down tracks. An genuine passion for reggae music can be easily identified on such songs as the uptempo skankworthy single "Into Action" and the dubbed out instrumental "Cold Blooded." Yet, diluted by Armstrong's distinctly grizzled voice and casual streetwise crassness, the album yields an Americanized, Californicated translation of the Caribbean spirit, evident on the cautionary yet reverential "Oh No". Finding joy amid the hardship, a common lyrical device for reggae vocalists, this paean to Los Angeles couldn't have a more authentic voice if penned by anyone else.
Originally slated for gratis digital release (which allegedly is still planned), A Poet's Life was given a chance as a CD/DVD package for those who wanted physical copies. If the 40-year old Armstrong, longtime contributor to indie music, and Hellcat stick to this admirable promise, it will mean a great deal to those of us who value a thriving independent scene that understands, respects, and caters to the listener as opposed to the shareholder.
On October 9, 2007 Robert Wyatt is to release his new album and first for Domino.
Comicopera, the 16 track album, will be available on both CD and double vinyl formats. It was produced by Robert himself, and recorded at his home in Louth as well as Phil Manzanera's Gallery Studio.
Comicopera is divided into three Acts: 'Lost in Noise,' 'The Here and The Now,' and 'Away with the Fairies' and is initially more diverse and live sounding than its predecessor Cuckooland.
Featuring a host of musicians including Brian Eno, Paul Weller and Phil Manzanera, Robert says he was keen for the album to capture the sound of a group of musicians playing in the room together, but more importantly to have friends playing together. "Music isn't just an abstract pleasure, it is a company, when you play a record. Why I like Duke Ellington and Charles Mingus, the Big Bands - is because every character in the band is identifiable as that person - there's this group of humans in a room" he says. It is this that gives Comicopera a sense of spontaneity, despite it's deliberate pacing and construction as something of a three Act 'Opera'.
We are very pleased to present this special edition LP from sculptor, painter, drawer and composer, Raymond Dijkstra.
Since 2003, his recorded work has been released in small, handcrafted art editions on the Le Souffleur label, all of which are out of print and not easy to obtain. Those who have, have discovered the odd, yet personal world of Raymond Dijkstra, whose recorded solo output relies heavily on the acoustic side of electro-acoustic music.
"Maskenstilleben" is released in a limited numbered edition of 100 in a painted wooden box on 200 gm virgin vinyl.
Australian guitarist Tim Catlin and American percussionist Jon Mueller's approach to their instruments is based on their shared interest in the vibration of material and the changes in sound that result in modifying those vibrations. Over a year in the making, Plates and Wires features a series of different situations involving guitars, gongs, snare drums, and bass drum, and their resonant effect upon one another. Plates and Wires was mastered by James Plotkin (Khanate/Phantomsmasher/Khlyst) and is released in an edition of 300 in a 10x10" package featuring artwork from painter Thomas Kovacich. Kovacich's practice of dragging paint with devices over large disused planks of furniture creates a visual cohesion with the layers of milky and gritty sounds heard within the recording.
The first twenty-five copies of this edition come with an exclusive intaglio print by Kovacich.About the prints, Kovacich states: "Whereas the meaning of printing in Western philosophy strives for sameness in multiples, the fine art of printmaking adopts a more relaxed and fluid practice. Each print is inked and printed or struck by hand resulting in slight tonal differences. Intaglio printmaking is a printing process by which the design is etched or engraved by the artist onto the plate, which is then covered
with ink. The surface is wiped clean leaving ink only in the incised lines. The impression is then made directly onto the paper."
Rated purely on looks, this is one of the best releases by Boris and/or Merzbow that I have borne witness to. Rated on music, I cannot say that I am impressed. A pedestrian Beatles cover and an uninspired piece of noise make for an easily forgettable experience. It is far from the best work of either Boris or Merzbow and even out of their collaborations together this will not be remembered for much bar its fantastic sleeve.
Considering the gorgeous gatefold sleeve that is heavily inspired by the album art of Yes and the ominous King Crimson-esque intro to “Walrus,” it was disappointing that Boris’ take on The Beatles was not a progged out supernova. Even with Merzbow on board to add odd sounds like seagulls and his usual electronic flatulence, this version of “I am the Walrus” kept very close to the original. It ends up sounding like the band were just passing the time at rehearsal rather than reworking a classic. On the opposite side, “Groon” is equally disappointing. Atsuo’s drumming could form the foundations of a traditional Boris epic but Merzbow and the rest of the band do not build on Atsuo’s beats, instead they add a layer of noise that sounds like it was added as an afterthought. At the end of the day, there are so discs released regularly by both Merzbow and Boris that many of them are bound to be filler and Walrus/Groon is one such record.
Transcendent, esoteric. Skat like vocals govern the first track. The driving thumping train like rhythms collide with each other and derail with frivolity. Circle sounds like a well produced corner shop band that you might find playing in the streets of some foreign country. The entire CD hangs with a certain gloom that is in the over polished/produced songs that sound like, well, that sound like insanity! (I'm referring of course to the 5th track). It's clickety clak vocals are distributed among the jam session players recording sessions. There are intense moments of introspection that criss cross with absurdity. Madness should prevail if you listen to track 5 in its entirety. Welcome to Circle's most grossest.
The 2nd track is complex with polyrhythms and a vice like atmosphere to its sound. It sounds like they've been jonesing for a smoke this whole time but that none of the members of the band wanted to go to the store for their fix. The 5th track is absolutely bonkers. It drove this reviewer wild.
It is not a prerequisite to appreciate soccer or French star Zinedine Zidane's role in the modern game to enjoy Mogwai's work on this film's soundtrack, but Zidane the man and Zidane the film give the music context that will mean something more to fans of the game.
The pairing of Mogwai's typical melancholy with a sports-themed film didn't immediately make sense to me, especially after listening to the Zidane album and noting that it is entirely free of the huge, sweeping bombast that Mogwai added to the Kronos Quartet for their other recent film work, The Fountain's score. Zidane finds Mogwai at their restrained best as the band takes a central theme and works it through a number of cues that work beautifully as a stand alone album. The music is focused less on the quiet/loud dynamic that many Mogwai fans may expect, and more on the simple construction of a mood that matches the feeling that I guess many of us have about Zidane at the end of his career.
Most Americans, if they know of Zidane at all, know him more for one of the most egregiously unsportsmanlike moments ever televised than for his many years as one of soccer's brightest stars. Zidane famously capped a brilliant and storied carrer by being ejected from the final of the 2006 World Cup in overtime, mere moments after he'd nearly put France ahead for their second World Cup title on his watch. As a fan, watching Zidane end his career on an outrageous foul was heartbreaking. It certainly tainted his Golden Ball award as the best player in the 2006 tournament, but it also cast a shadow over every highlight clip, every goal, every dazzling spin through the midfield, and every fond memory of Zidane as one of the greatest players in the modern game.
Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno could not have anticipated Zidane's meltdown when they proposed to film a club match between Zidane's Real Madrid and Villareal in April of 2005 to create their film, Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait. The two artists had been interested in a high concept film about Zidane for years, and after convincing the French star that the time was right and the project was right, the two directors set up a 17 camera shoot to film only Zidane during a single match. The result is a film that defies expectation, but lives up to its title.
More a portrait using moving pictures than a documentary as might be expected, the film follows Zidane almost completely devoid of context from the opening kickoff through the moment he steps off the field for a single match. It's not the match of a lifetime or a game where the hearts of an entire nation are beating out of their chests--it's just another day at the office for Zinedine Zidane. It's important to understand that the film isn't about the story of the game any more than a portrait hanging on the wall is about the background of the painting. The game and all of the drama within it works as a framing device for a study of Zidane at work. Of course it's nearly impossible to watch the film without wondering what other players are doing with the ball as Zidane appears to wander around outside of the play, but the filmmakers stick to their modus operandi and offer little more than images of Zidane for an hour and a half. If all of that sounds ponderous our boring, it's because without the right context outside of the film, it most certainly would be.
Darius Khondji (the cinematographer employed often by filmmakers such as David Fincher and Jean-Pierre Jeunet) brings Zidane to life beautifully in a way that demonstrates how the world of artful photography and live sports coverage rarely converge. Meanwhile, Mogwai's score is used sparingly to highlight particularly slow moments where Zidane is dragging his shoes on the pitch or watching the action from afar. The film is often balletic and slow, but it leaves one with plenty of time to reflect.
During half time there is a wonderful collage that puts Zidane, the match, and the sport of soccer all into a broader context, and it's during this segment that the Mogwai score, the weight of Zidane's career, and the film's vision begin to congeal. An image of a child in a Zidane jersey in the midst of chaos reminds us of just how wide reaching the sport can be, and how a Frenchman of few words who kicks a ball around on nicely pruned grass on Sundays can be the kind of hero who transcends political and cultural borders. It's also here where the choice of Mogwai starts to make sense as a metatextual comment on the bittersweet role that a hero like Zidane plays in our lives. By the time the film ends with its own deeply ironic and unscripted twist, the film and soundtrack have become inseperable from my memories of Zidane through the years.
What winds up being most moving about the film is the way that the music reinforces the conflicted feelings that many of his fans (and fans of soccer in general) must have after watching that World Cup final in 2006. There's no easy way to reconcile the hundreds of Zidane highlight reels on YouTube with that single looping clip of him headbutting Italy's Materrazi with no visible provocation. Though it's hard to imagine Mogwai intending to score Zidane's entire career rather than just this film, they have in essence created the perfect theme music for such an imperfect hero.
Ka-Spel's latest is a labyrinth of hallucinatory hallways in which the exit is frequently obscured by mirages and wrong turns. Half-remembered voices and snippets of forgotten songs lure the unwary ever deeper into the maze, only to be ambushed by unexpected noises and hushed whispers that offer no hope of escape.
Beta-lactam Ring While it's true that a certain dream logic does prevail, there are enough structural signposts to keep the album from sinking into a quagmire of befuddlement. The most obvious of these are the beats that show up on several tracks, like the rusty percussion of "Harvester" or the scraping beats and mechanical rhythm of "Backyard.” Other tracks prominently feature Ka-Spel's voice, like "The Good Life," in which he intones that he's "too tired to sleep," or "Laughing Gas," in which he "could not find the doorway," one of the album's recurring themes. There are also many noisy passages obfuscating direction, dense sound fields with muted scraps of backwards and cut-up vocals, distortion, snippets of found melodies, engine blasts, and plenty of strange electronics.
All of these elements are woven together in collages of incredible texture that serve the album’s rich emotional complexity. Throughout, Ka-Spel recounts memories of a relationship both good and bad, and the difficulties he faces in balancing these conflicting notions give the album its convoluted shape. When a female voice in “Laughing Gas” asks, “Do you love anyone?/Does anyone love you?” it’s hard to determine if it’s a memory or an accusation. While a streak of melancholy permeates many of these tracks, the aggressively insistent rhythms and noisy blasts give rise to a certain sense of inevitability. Ka-Spel himself says as much in “And the Stars”: “Yet still I walk away towards the light/You see, I had no choice/For life must go on.” The album may not make complete sense to anyone but its creator, but the journey through Ka-Spel's vast psychological interiors is a dizzyingly exhilarating trip nonetheless.
It's worth mentioning that the presentation of this disc is a work of art in itself. Not only are Jesse Peper's bizarre paintings strikingly vivid and alluring, but they're also printed on the thickest oversized cardstock gatefold I've ever encountered. With a foam peg holding the disc in place, this is one of the more unique packages I've come across in some time.
However, all that would be mere window dressing if the music itself weren't so captivating. Listening to Ka-Spel’s poignant exploration of ambivalence is a touching and rewarding experience. This album's easily among the best I've heard so far this year and a sure contender to become a personal favorite.
This is another work that does not have a specific identifiable "theme" regarding its sound (i.e. no focus on guitar, psychedelica, drums, etc), but there is a distinct dark, nihilistic feel to the work as a whole. The overall sound is augmented by the packaging, which depicts Masami Akita in front of a demolished building, all tinted dark and such like. Surprisingly, this darkness manifests itself in the music without pushing it to abnormally harsh or violent realms (by Merzbow standards, of course). Quite the contrary, for a noise work, it is relatively mild and listenable.
Across five tracks, Akita manages to slip in a surprisingly notable amount of musical elements into the noise mix. "Earth Worms," for one, shows some synth melodies and psychedelic guitar notes bubbling up from the murky noise swamp. "Alishan" also demonstrates an ear for composition, as the track builds from a looped bass melody, layer by layer, into a denser mix of phased analog synth noise chaos.
While there's no explicit sense of percussion in the album, some tracks show a penchant for rhythm in the form of short pulsing synth tones. The swooping synth of "Revenge on Humanity" builds in pace until it takes on the 4/4 kick drum sound of hardcore techno. Mix in the laser gun synth sweeps and you’ve got a piece of chaos that lives up to its name, but never feels out of control or completely random. One recurring element of the album that maybe entirely accidental are that the synth tones (my guess, the classic EMS Synthi 'A') are mostly of a high register chirping variety, which sounds very bird like. Given Akita's well-known love of fine feathered friends, it might just be his way of bringing a brighter element to this otherwise dark, fatalistic outing.
Not all the material feels as planned, and other pieces sound more random, but they make up for compositional shallowness in sheer depth of layering, such as the distant punk band practicing in a garage down Masami's street in "Dark Stars," along with the thumping synth pulses and clatterings of junk in his own backyard. As a whole the disc seems to focus on combining the subtleties of his early 1980’s tape-loop based work with his mid 1990’s focus on analog buzzsawing. It works very well, because it makes for a listening experience as opposed to an endurance test, which many noise albums seem to strive to be.
Coma Berenices doesn't break any new ground in the Merzbow canon, but it does a more restrained version of his harsh noise background very well. It's actually a rather accessible album for the genre, and a stark contrast to the building destroying din of Venerology (which was often a little too much even for the staunchest of noise fans), here is a chance to see what the newer, mellower (slightly) Masami Akita has been up to.
The early pioneers of what has become known as "ambient" return after a decade long silence with a fascinating new work that shows the collective staying true to their roots, but at the same time exploring more grimy, less ethnic textures.
Ambient music has become easy. With sampling, digital delay technology, and a pinch of granular synthesis, any dilettante with some stolen software and a bit of gear can pull out a "soundscape" with little to no effort. While not necessarily "quality" in the classical sense, someone with less experience may not be able to see the difference between the aformentioned bedroom wankery and true artistry. In 1982 when O Yuki Conjugate followed up Brian Eno's pioneering work, the technology wasn't there. Instead, organic instruments and primitive analog synths were the best things going, and even when samplers came out, they cost as much as a car and took up about the same amount of room. It's very respectable that on their first release in about a decade, OYC sticks to their guns and avoids the easy route, creating wonderful ambient in the original, "difficult" way with organic technologies and a true ear for composition.
Interestingly enough, the last vestiges of the 1990s (the period of their last significant activity) can be heard in The Euphoria of Disobedience: the flanged organ shards on "Noiseflaw" and "Tropospheric" are the dying gasps of house techno music, and the guitar elements that appear throughout have tinges of the great Britpop invasion that never was. Of course, the most obvious is the ambient subgenre of isolationism of which they were integral in the development of. However, even compared to those artists of that era, there is a great deal more soul and depth to this album.
The Luddite approach shows up in their use of classic synth and electronic rhythms, obvious in "Estuary" and "Sunlessglare" towards the ending of the album. Even "Out Through The Skin" showcases bits of detuned guitars and pitch shifting that is far from groundbreaking technology, but still fascinating in its simplicity. "Where She Goes At Night" is another one that stands out as completely different, being the only track that actually features some noticeable fragments of human voices above the bassy tones and alien effects. That is the strongest element of The Euphoria of Disobedience: each track feels unique and stands on its own, yet work well within the full album context.
This disc—which marks a return to activity of OYC after a long pause in activity—is coming at a great time. A time where there aren't many active ambient projects in the traditional sense, these masters of their craft have decided to give it another go.