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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Thanks in no small regard to the efforts of high profile DJs like Richie Hawtin, whose DE9mix CDs in particular have served as accessible benchmarks for thesubgenre, minimal techno and its incestuous electronic variantscontinue to enjoy the freedoms of expression and progression whilemaintaining an audience.
While some of the producers previouslycomposing this sound have moved on to radically different terrain (see:Rhythm & Sound), several artists like Donnacha Costello, VladislavDelay, and Tomas Jirku have stayed the course while pushing boundaries.Here, the latter gent pairs up with Robin Judge, another Mille Plateauxrefugee and Traum cohort, for a loosely thematic album that looks both wayswhile crossing the street, reverently in the direction of the past andthoughtfully towards the future.
The respective and respectable back catalogs of Jirku and Judgedemonstrate a history of experimentation in sound design and anunderstanding of the dancefloor, and the tracks presented here clearlyrepresents their combined craftsmanship. "Double Trouble" splicescrude, almost ancient-sounding melodic bleeps over requisite clickypercussion resulting in an ascetic take on jacking house. The bassystabs and metallic breaksy snares summon the spirit of the old-schoolon "Counter Measures," a post-rave anthem if ever there was one.Minimal techno DJs everywhere should have at the ready when rocking thefloor with CD decks or Final Scratch as, much to my surprise, thisbreakout track is apparently unavailable on vinyl. (For thatdemographic, however, Onitor released a companion 12" with unreleasedmaterial, presumably from the same sessions.) Fans of deeper soundswill enjoy the synth washes of late period Drexciyan "Exposed" and thealmost somber tones of "Internal Affairs."
Not every track stands out as brightly the aforementioned cuts, butgenerally that is to be expected from "artist albums" in a genre stilldominated by a singles culture. While Jirku has yet to top theunderrated Sequins, his minimal disco funk odyssey for Force-Inc., Private Eyeshas plenty of tasty grooves to offer anyone who abandoned the subgenreafter music journalists stopped using the word "glitch" to define it.
1996. Near Reykjavik, Iceland. Staring at the brick home was not a pleasant experience; the lights seeping coolly out of the windows never impressed anyone with kindness or welcoming warmth. If there was any reason for the continued interest taken in the building, it was certainly because of its occupant, a man whose strange walk and unconvincing kindness spoke of foreign intrigue and deep suspicion.
To listen to his voice was to hear a semblance of the deep sea's shifting and faint life. He muttered, whined, and let nasal gasps escape each time an unfamiliar character caught his attention. He was forgiving only in that he was distant, too removed to speak of displeasure or inconvenience when approached. That is why his disappearance into the house remains a topic of some debate in the town. Never one to remove himself entirely from his environment, when he purchased the house and did not emerge for over a month the entire matter became of criminal interest. He could've been kidnapped, though no one was sure what value he possessed to a kidnapper. He could've been murdered, but he had no enemies and, beside his newly acquired home, no valuables by which a murder would make any sense.
The sounds came later, from beneath the cracks in the window frames. Slowly escaping, but deafeningly loud, the duration of the event was enough to cause concern among the residents on the street. A subtle wind from inside the house let loose the most cavernous of bellows, the sound of a bagpipe expanding beyond its capacity and exploding in slow motion. Soon the house was a taboo topic. There was obviously someone alive inside. Every night candles would burn inside, casting shadows that made no sense, extending them across the street and into the trees where all manner of perverse actions were played out as though planned by a puppeteer. As though the lights and sounds were not enough, passers by noted the cold air surrounding the old place, emanating ever so slowly from the base of the property, from beneath the ground.
Or so it seemed.
Others passed it off as mere superstition, the effects of an eccentric man on a small town outside Reykjavik. But then came the birthday. He walked out of his door one sunny morning, when the sun was still low and the clouds were cast with purples and oranges. His dress was Victorian. Austere but with a sense of separation. He walked down the street slowly, his mouth tightly closed, only nodding to those who greeted him. Everyone agreed that he seemed to be in a most excited mood. His footsteps fell faster than before, his detached air replaced by his dress, and his attention seemingly restored. Whatever had happened in the house, his mood had improved, making his presence all the more welcome.
It was his mouth, though. Something about his mouth troubled everyone. He refused to talk. But everyone knew why. The house spoke for him. When asked what had happened all those months, locked away inside the house alone, here would merely point. The house would stand there and creek, moaning with the old wood that framed its interior. He would simply walk on. I do not claim to know the contents of that house. But passing him one day I was lucky enough to catch him without his wide-rimmed hat on. He has wiping his brow and adjusting his jacket. I saw it then. String. Thread.
His mouth had been sewn shut. When I appealed to him, begging for some explanation as to what might've happened, he simply pointed down towards the house. I could hear it moan in the wind... or so I thought. It was a windless day and I swear that he had spoken to me. He rushed quickly home that instant and with a horrifying slam, the door was closed and the voice I heard silenced. That house, belonging to the old artist outside Reykjavik, no longer belongs to this land, nor does it have room even in my mind. When I pass it I try to pretend it isn't even there. But, on occasion, that voice can be heard coming from the house and one must assume it can only be the voice of that occupant, speaking from behind his sewn lips, causing the house to move and twitch, as though it were speaking of all the horrible revelations unveiled every night in the trees when those sick puppets dance and leave the town breathless.
Although it's not a split single, "Smiling Off" is split down themiddle: the first half being the 4/4 dance record and the second beingthefree-form noise-off.
The DFA unsurprisingly turn "Smiling Off" into a pumpin' 9 1/2 minutemix, quantizing Black Dice's rhytmic echoes and layering them on top arelentless drum kit that wouldn't sound unfamiliar after listening toan LCD or Juan MacLean 12". It's maintains the somewhat unpredictable theme of the BlackDice original, however, with a myriad of whirring effects from the original plusbird sounds adding even more color. The Vladislav Delay mix adds a deepsynth bass line and like nearly any German remix, sounds much morerigid and mechanical. Vocalizations echoed and looped add a bit of anelement to keep it in the category of "man this is too weird" to playat a Euro trash dance club, however, for any noise fan this mix wouldprobably gently fade into the background. At the nine-minute mark, itprovides an excellent compliment to the DFA's mix. Tusk Drag Force's'ZZ Pot remix' of "Smiling Off" is probably the most free-form take onthe disc. It begins with an aural exploitation of some of the elementsfrom the original, taking the high road and choosing not to add astandard beat on top, then it makes a drastic shift and comes outsounding like "Swamp Rat" from Nurse With Wound! (Somebody's at themixing knobs having fun with dials.) Another shift finds the beatschanging but the twittering remains constant. Over the course of closeto 15 minutes, the song goes through a number of other shifts andmovements, finally incorporating the last movement of the original intothis version. What Tusk Drag Force have accomplished is essentiallymaking an album-side length version of the track.
As a bonus the music video is included as "enhanced content," andit's what would be expected from looking at the cover to the latestBlack Dice releases: a low-budget collage, not "pretty" but colorfuland bright. However, a little warning to the manufacturers and their"disclaimer" that they're not responsible for damaging peoples'computers by means of "enhanced" CD content: you can be (see Title 18 Part 1 Chapter 47 Section 1030: Fraud and related activity in connection with computers).
For Black Dice's third full-length LP for DFA, they've almost completely abandoned the tropical sunshine of Creature Comfortsand embraced their family's beat tendencies. It's still Black Dice,however, and the whimsical surrealistic approach to songwriting isstill present, however it's more refined than ever.
Beat is the key ingredient on the first couple songs, but it's not ahard-pounding techno floor beat. It's almost a mind-controllingblood-pumping beat that owes a lot to Rough Trade-era Cabaret Voltaire(pre-1983). There's blistering analogue-like sound manipulation, dubbyechoes, live drums, guitar effects and loops, and sweeping electronicsounds, all mixed together in very pleasantly. If my Cabaret Voltairecomparison wasn't enough, "Smiling Off," the album's first single andvideo, will easily find room in anybody's heart who loves CV's classic"Sluggin fer Jesus," for its primitive soul and its bump and shakewriggling beats. As the beats almost become way too comfortable, BlackDice switches gears and the song becomes overcome with low guitarbuzzing and hums and nonlyrical vocalizations. Black Dice find aresting point in the next couple songs, with the serene "HeavyManners," allowing the guitar, vocals, and effects to carry therhythmic pulse throughout the song, and "Aba," short and sweet with apretty synth melody. Another couplet follows, each returning to thedissonant cacophony Black Dice fans and followers have come to expect,both are rhythmic but clouded by a mess of squeals and a roaring noise."Motorcycle" closes the disc with an almost hint to Creature Comfortswith its spritely Carribbean island-like guitar, while the prominentstomp-clap beats, dog bark-like whooping, and gargling sounds make surethat the oddity is still intact.
Don't confuse evolution and refinement with selling out. Black Dicearen't making compromises despite any notions of pressure since theworldwide DFA deal, which includes exclusive manufacturing anddistribution by Astralwerks/Caroline in North America, but they areclearly evolving and embracing more.
Twenty-one of the bigger names in independent music can be and probably have been wrong, but they're spot on with The Now Sound Redesigned,a remix project that can rightly be called an event. The relevant backstory: in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the four Dedrick siblingscreated some beautifully constructed and legitimately awe-inspiringsunshine pop over a five year period. Never garnering commercialsuccess, the Dedricks called it quits in 1972, leaving their creationsto languish in obscurity forever, but for the LPs purchased second-handby vinyl junkies and fanatical crate diggers.
Finding what they heard—soaring melodies, lovely harmonics and cleverarrangements, with top notch production and instrumentation—was amazingin both sonic quality and the fact it was unknown, they all broke thecardinal rule of vinyl digging and shared what they heard. Thepopularity spread slowly but surely until it reached the ears ofSharpshooters and Belle & Sebastian alike. Now, with the FreeDesign catalogue reissued and available on CD, the remix EPs it spawnedare collected and issued here as The Now Sound Redesigned.To wit,most various artists remix collections fall under the category ofirrelevant barely-assed pap. Not so here. The efforts arebilled—correctly—as reinterpretations, with significant changes insound andstructure, sometimes within a track, while retaining strong similarityto the source material.
The new songs are as different as theircreators: Madlib's cut has a signature chopped drum and Yesterday's NewQuintet-esque keyboard loop on top of the 30 year old harmonies;Stereolab offers their own soaring bridges and sunshine-splashed hooksto complement the Dedrick original. MURS nearly tips the boat byplaying the social consciousness card (bummer) but is rescued by DangerMouse's trippy understated backbeat. Other notables on hand includeStones Throw sensei Peanut Butter Wolf—his hand in yet anothermusical archeology project—serving up a high energy Moog-drivensoulride. While any rehashed tune will lack the original's passion anddirection, not one of the 19 tracks feels tired, nor do they want forenergy or purpose. And there's enough sonic variety to please nearlyany conceivable listener, save perhaps the honky-tonk or death metalsets.
All the remixes hold their own, but they pale in comparison tothe original stuff, teases of which serve as interludes. This, morethan anything else speaks to the validity of the album's exercise andthe vitality of the very nearly-forgotten sound. The Free Design Redesignedwill never break any sales records and will be lucky garner significantradio airplay, but it wasn't meant to. Every non-Philistine who plugsinto the Free Design's sounds won't be able to resist the music. If thewell-known names here turn a few more heads onto the Dedricks, all thebetter. Happy crate-digging.
For any musician that has had a career as long and as important as Michael Gira, keeping up the momentum must be an almost overwhelming task. As if the early Angels of Light material wasn’t enough of a departure from Swans, successive albums and tours have seen Gira stripping his sound and his songs down to a rootsy, folk-fueled core that is both more immediate and more direct than most of his back catalogue. While the last Angels of Light full length left me feeling that I’d peeked a bit too closely in on the man behind the curtain, Gira’s portion of the latest split release with Akron/Family accomplishes more of that uneasy closeness and it’s his portion of the disc that I’m most apt to skip.
A Dylan cover in "I Pity The Poor Immigrant," while sincere, just doesn’t grab me. The Angels of Light version of Swans’ "Mother/Father" is drastically changed but serves really only as a curious look at a deconstruction of a familiar piece. Akron/Family once again serves as Gira’s backing band, and their contributions to his songs are wonderfully sparse and appropriate. I just wish there was an instrumental.
Luckily for me, Akron/Family’s half of the disc shines. "We All Will" is a terrific campfire sing along with some of the most pointed and insightful lyrics , while the chorus of voices in "Awake" give that song a beautiful depth. There’s an earthy exuberance in songs like "Moment" and "Future Myth" that’s simply contagious, and the band balances nicely the dark, detuned music with a willful joy in creating and performing their songs. Even if "Future Myth" outstays its welcome by the eight minute mark, I can’t help but smile at the fun these guys must be having writing and recording these songs.
This has been an excellent year for me for discovering simple, earnest records played by musicians who obviously make music for the same reasons that I listen to it. I’ve had the first half of this record on constant rotation for the last three weeks and it’s honestly one of the most fun records I’ve heard all year. Unfortunately, I just can’t bring myself to feel that way about the Angels of Light penned second half.
Inna City Pressure was a true revelation on its initial releasein 1998. Long before the term "mashup" entered the lexicon andunforeseen marriages between, say, Jay-Z and the Beatles were commoncurrency, Dr. Israel welded together reggae, dub, metal, punk, jungleand drum 'n' bass with ease and verve, simultaneously revealing theunderpinnings the genres had in common while seamlessly creating afresh and vital sound all his own. Seven years on sees Dr. Israel witha new label, hordes of imitators, thousands of these new "mashups," anda large potential audience that may not be in the know. So the braintrust at ROIR has deemed it time for an Inna City Pressure reissue. ROIR
The "new" record (out on the street just in time to drum up noise forROIR's fall release lineup) boasts more than cosmetic updates: alongwith the new packaging and liner notes, a number of the original tracksare "reinterpreted," along with some new “bonus” tracks tacked onto theend. Israel's skill and vision are still apparent; the collaborationwith Rancid on “Coppers” rarely fails to boggle first time listener'sminds, and the album's gem, Israel's take on the Clash's “ArmagideonTime,” is still the real deal and does more to affirm the punk group'sreggae influences than anything Jones or Strummer did or said. Israel’ssongwriting runs the predictable gamut of the urban ghettolifestyle—drugs, crime, violence and injustice. A taste of Rastaspirituality anda true punk ethos, most apparent on the obvious tracks but not lostelsewhere and never sounding absurd, keeps the tired subject matterfrom being hackneyed or embarrassingly cliché. Israel’s lyricaladaptability—keeping time in a dancehall cadence, rapping or singinghis soul out—also helps to keep the sound fresh.
The timing of thereissue raises eyebrows, but some could hardly fault ROIR can hardlyfor it, a fringe label even on the indie scene, they are the newowners of some damn fine master tapes and currently wield the ability(read: marketing and production budget) to make noise for their newreleases while reminding the listening public of a modern-day classicrecord. Purists will question the absence of more new material. Theinclusion of a second disc of entirely new material (perhaps Inna City Dubbedor), would have justified the reissue without question. For now, thefinal verdict rests with Dr. Israel's new material. If it provesworthwhile, then Inna City Pressure's repackaging was a timelyand justifiable exercise. If not, it'll be little more than musicalmasturbation, a pointless stunt and a regrettable stain on Inna City Pressure's legacy.
This is an album filled to the brim with the sounds of the space-time beingslowed down to an audible crawl. Sun Ra thought that space was theplace, but Aranos must've decided that such a comment just wouldn't doand took the whole concept a step further: the space-time continuum isthe place, a more ephemeral, seething place.
If there were gods beforethe universe began, this might've been how they sounded: birds buzzingand calling out over tremendous spaces, questioning the absence ofmaterial and filling it with their cacophonous voices. Aranos' musichas been especially voluminous as of late, being far more free inarrangement and more concerned with the shape of sound rather thanmelody and lyrics. This is the case here, but Aranos' choice ofinstruments makes the abstract sound homey. The buzz of a violin or theoscillation of metal sheets is familiar, providing all the comfortneeded to listen to these three lengthy pieces. True to the (ratherloose) form often associated with textured music, Aranos' soundencompasses a cinematic flare, using the fall of footsteps and thewhisper of excited pipes to portray the architecture of a haunted houseor the gravity of open spaces too large to understand. Consequently,the distinction etched out between the three pieces seems arbitrary,it's nigh on impossible to determine when one starts and the otherbegins.
And Soon Coffin Sings feels like a single pieceimagined in three movements—each moving the music towards theabstract—towards the inevitable hum that vibrates everywhere, ineverything. Halloween might be getting under my skin, but the middlehalf of this album feels creepy, ringing, dancing, and rustling insubtle variations and reproducing the anxiety that something might beright behind me or just around the corner, watching and waiting forjust the right moment to attack. Of course this moment never comes,Aranos only draws the anxiety through the album and never provides anymoment where relaxation might seem like a good idea.
A huge plus, asalways, is Aranos' packaging: this time the album comes in a five-sidedpackage that unfolds to reveal the picture of man with his armsoutstretched, making a welcoming gesture. While the album isn'tdistressing or unwelcoming, it's certainly a strange trip, but one thatAranos is capable of soothing anyone into instead of thrusting theminto the middle of a strange record with no immediate appeals.
Aranos shows no signs of slowing down: this year alone he's released alive album, a 7" for Brainwashed Recordings, a live DVD, a full-lengthstudio recording (Bering Sea) and a live album (Throat Clearance).If Throat Clearance was Aranos' record for inner-space, And Soon Coffin Sings is the sound of that inner-world bleeding away and drenching everything in its viscera.
There is an atmosphere of particularly chilly austerity on the debutalbum of Mi and L'au. It's not entirely unexpected from an albumproduced by Michael Gira, but it is somewhat unexpected afterlearning that Mi and L'au are friends of fellow Young God folkieDevendra Banhart, and that their album contains contributions fromAkron/Family and Julia Kent. Where Devendra's latest album Cripple Crowreveled in its own expensive, high-tech studio sheen, and containedsome of Banhart's most celebratory and rollicking group compositions, Mi and L'au sounds a lot closer to something that belongs on Young God records: quietly dramatic, somber chamber folk.
Mi and L'au is a male/female duo existing on the imaginary border oftwo musical phenomena. Mi is from Finland, and consequently the musicpicks up a bit of that Fonal Records Finnish underground psychedeliavibe, where compositions remain loose and kaleidescopic, organic butscattershot, with a frosty nip to remind you of the hostile tundra ofMi's homeland. L'au is from Paris, and an old friend of DevendraBanhart, who wrote his song "Gentle Soul" (from Oh Me Oh My...)for L'au, as a thanks for letting him crash at his place. Perhapsbecause of this connection, Mi and L'au also tune in to the current waveof American "freak folk," singing in English about things like falseteeth and worms, and incorporating an ever-so-subtle atmosphere ofAppalachian Americana. I'm making this album sound as if it is somesort of confused postmodern hybrid, but it's not really, and the musicand songs flow quite naturally, if always somewhat restrained.
It's this restraint that characterizes the music on this pair'sdebut album, always an emotion repressed, a sadness not quitearticulated. The press notes mention Nico, which is a good comparison.Not that Mi's soft, caressing voice really resembles Nico's chillymonotone, but both singers share an emotional nakedness that betrays aweighty, unspoken emotional history. Lyrics are simple throughout,often just simple observations of everyday life that take on a specialsignificance with repetition against the backdrop of Mi and L'au'sskeletal melodies and haunting compositional touches—a gorgeous swellof romantic strings here, a sprinkling of winter bells there, a lightlyplucked banjo, the rhythm of a foot stomping a wood floor.
The production is crystalline and spectral, and is perhaps the mostimpressive thing about the album, with Gira highlighting every creak,quaver and scrape, opening out the mix to reveal hidden undercurrentsof haunted psychedelia and shimmering drones. A track such as "Bums"feels like one sort of thing—a melodic vocal duet, gently pickedguitar and flute—until halfway through, when a rip in the gossamerfabric unleashes a seething undercurrent of swirling, ominousatmospherics that bounce off the dark forest canopy, creating fearfulshadows. At these moments, the duo is most reminiscent of early 90sBritish esoteric psych-folk, shades of Current 93 or Sol Invictus. Thenthere is a track such as "A Word In Your Belly," which achieves all ofthe melancholic, symphonic grandeur of Agaetis Bryjun-era Sigur Ros. (No, really! Listen to the samples below.) Mi and L'auis a lovely and haunting debut album, and another impressive additionto Young God's mostly unblemished track record of uncovering great newtalent.
Eric Random is a crucial piece of history for fans of Cabaret Voltaire,23 Skidoo, and A Certain Ratio, and this 2xCD collection issued by LTMearlier this year provides an overview that is not only a greatintroduction but a generous selection of difficult to find material. LTM
Eric Random started in the band The Tiller Boys, which includedBuzzcocks's Pete Shelley, who played at some of those legendary Factoryshowcases at the end of the 1970s. Their last date was sharing the billwith Cabaret Voltaire on that night captured as Live at the YMCAon October 27th (yeah, you missed my birthday again this year) in 1979.Following the split, Random (who was only 18 in 1979) began workingcloser with the Cabs, recording at their Western Works studio inSheffield with Stephen Mallinder at the desk, joining the Cabsfollowing the departure of Chris Watson in 1981 and appearing on 2x45 and The Pressure Company, and even playing a one-off show billed as A Certain Random Cabaret which included members of A Certain Ratio.
Random's music fits in appropriately between contemporary music of23 Skidoo and Cabaret Voltaire. Structured rhythms provide the backbonefor songs which often push the ten-minute mark, never straying from theestablished tempo, while a bass line frequently remains fairly constantthroughout each piece. On top are layers featuring tape manipulations,faint guitar, horns, melodica, and muted vocals, soaked in primitiveechoes and delays found primarily on early recordings from themightiest dubmasters.
Once again LTM's presentation is classy and respectful, including aninformative booklet to accompany the music. Disc one captures singlesand compilation tracks from 1980-1982 while disc two features the 1982album Earthbound Ghost Need (a Burroughs reference from Naked Lunch) in its entirety.
Random's inclusion of a cover of "Bolero" by Ravel at the end of the Earthbound Ghost Needalbum is hardly a surprise, as the structure of that song is almost ablueprint to the main ideas of most of Eric Random's music: songs arevery long and simply do not stray from their main theme. (It's aformula that shouldn't be unfamiliar to Cabaret Voltaire and Richard H.Kirk fans.) Songs like this work well in clubs and in other socialsettings but two discs of long cuts is a lot more to ask of a listeneras opposed to an extended 12" single here and there. The four songsfrom the That's What I Like About Me EP open the first disc andthe muddy footprints left by Stephen Mallinder and Western Works areall over it. (It's not a bad thing, honest.) The length of these foursongs is an album in nearly anybody's book, which makes it somewhatunbalanced when compared to the following six tracks, which averagearound 4 minutes each.
There is plenty more Eric Random yet to compile and reissue, asfollowing these recordings Random traveled to India to studynon-western musics, continued his friendship and alliance with CabaretVoltaire, playing various concerts with them (including a show withRichard H. Kirk as recently as 2000), releasing music on theirDoublevision imprint, and performing in other projects like The FreeAgents, and The Faction (Nico's backing band in the 1980s). CV fansshould especially be anxious to see the Mad As Mankind single released again but as this stuff was out around 1984, it simply wouldn't have quite fit in to the material collected on Subliminal 1980-1982. I'll wait patiently myself and take the time this material needs to settle in completely.
Atbest, Noriko’s fifth album mixes pop and more experimental electronicsin a way that is sometimes interesting, mixing standard pop beats andinstruments with more unusual sounds. Unfortunately this form ofsongcraft is far from new and much of the time Noriko misses the markcompletely.
Blurred in my Mirror starts off very promisingly with“Niagara Hospital;” the electronic beat pushes the song as Noriko’sspoken vocals go in and out synch with the song. It works very well asNoriko’s childlike words jar with the more serious music. “Tabletfor Memory,” with its lazy rhythm and acoustic guitar sounds quite likePortishead, which, although entertaining it isn't something towrite home about. After these first two songs the album loses its steam very quickly.
Most of the other songs seem to gonowhere, all blurring into each other. It’s not that they are bad but they’re not that interesting, failing to hold myattention. Additionally, Noriko’s singing starts to grate on me after awhile. At times her voice is unorthodox and beautiful but there weremoments when I found her singing a little uncomfortable.
Blurred in my Mirrorworks best at the times when the songshave some structure, the moreexperimental tracks lacked the life of the more traditional songs onthe album. They were full of too many ingredients: too many loopsoverpowering the mix. Perhaps this could have worked much better withsomeone elseat the mixing desk. The downfall seems to be too many choices and notenough clarity: noises might sound great when practicing or playingaround but in the end don't actuallysuit any of the songs remarkably well. The strongest cuts were the onesthat used a morelimited palette of sounds which allowed more room in the mix toactually enjoy the music. Blurred in my Mirror could have been a good album were it not for the dud tracks and poor production work. As it stands it is a lacklustre and average album.