Plenty of new music to be had this week from Laetitia Sadier and Storefront Church, Six Organs of Admittance, Able Noise, Yui Onodera, SML, Clinic Stars, Austyn Wohlers, Build Buildings, Zelienople, and Lea Thomas, plus some older tunes by Farah, Guy Blakeslee, Jessica Bailiff, and Richard H. Kirk.
Lake in Girdwood, Alaska by Johnny.
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This unique album quietly surfaced back in April, but it is one of 2018's most wonderfully unexpected releases, as it is the first of Landes Levi's recordings to ever be made widely available. Although she has amassed a small cult following through her releases on Belgium's Sloow Tapes, Landes Levi has largely remained an obscure figure in music circles, rarely recording and jokingly describing herself in a recent Wire interview as a "street musician made good." It would be more apt to describe her as reluctant drone royalty, however, as she co-founded The Floating Lotus Magic Opera Company in the '60s, an ensemble that also included folks like Terry Riley and Angus MacLise. She also studied with La Monte Young and an improbable host of legendary Indian musicians over the years. On IKIRU, Landes Levi is joined by luminaries of a different sort, as her haunting sarangi melodies are backed by Belgian underground veterans Bart de Paepe and Timo von Luijk. IKIRU would have certainly been a mournfully lovely album with just Landes Levi's unadorned sarangi playing, but her sympathetic collaborators take her viscerally elegiac vision into wonderfully ritualistic and hallucinatory deep-psych territory.
As with all Oaken Palace releases, IKIRU ("to grow") is an album with a deep sense of purpose, as the label exists to donate all of their profits to environmental charities.The inspiration for this particular entry in the series is the declining population of Monarch butterflies, which gets explicitly addressed with an excerpt from an Ira Cohen poem at the beginning of "Butterfly Brain" (Landes Levi is primarily a poet herself).For the most part though, IKIRU has the otherworldly feeling of a timeless ceremony in a remote and ruined temple.Aside from that brief spoken interlude, both of the sidelong pieces that compose IKIRU are quite similar in structure, unfolding as achingly beautiful sarangi solos that alternately moan with anguish and transcendently blossom into ephemeral snatches of soaring melody.I suspect these pieces were both improvised around a loose central motif rather than composed, as there are occasional stretches were the sarangi falls silent or blends into the background, yet Landes Levi's playing is deeply evocative, affecting, and sublime–her melodies often feel like a darkly lovely and heartfelt requiem for all of life on earth.That said, it is not an oppressively sad album by any means.Instead, it feels like something quite novel: a languorously unfolding dreamscape that billows outward from a heavenly melodic thread that winds through it like a stream or a drifting tendril of opium smoke.
While IKIRU is ostensibly a Landes Levi solo release, the contributions of de Paepe and van Luijk play a crucial role in crafting album's beguiling spell.Occasionally, the pair creep into the foreground with a brief zither melody, but primarily focus themselves on crafting a ghostly and ceremonial sounding backdrop for Landes Levi's lyrical melodies to elegantly float, twist, moan, and churn through.On the opening "Butterfly Graveyard," for example, the duo use thundersheets to create a deep, gong-like pulse.There are also occasional accordion drones that billow up from the depths, as well as a strange and fascinating layer of field recordings.I would love to know where and why the recording was taken, as it seems to have nothing to with butterflies.Or maybe it does, as it is very easy to imagine that the quiet sounds of butterflies would be eclipsed by most other natural sounds, no matter how many are present (a vast, fluttering cloud of butterflies could easily be drowned out by a single insistent bird).In any case, the natural sounds are weirdly perfect in this context, as the deep exhalation-like whooshes and the chorus of jabbering woodland creatures contribute beautifully to the piece’s deeply meditative feel and sense of place.No little animal friends join the trio on the more nocturnal and dreamlike "Butterfly Brain," sadly, but they are replaced by a spectral trail of blurry and uneasily harmonizing mellotron drones from van Luijk.The percussion is quite different as well, as the lingering gong-like tones have a submerged feeling that evokes a secret underwater grotto.Both pieces are absolutely wonderful and complement each other nicely.
In hindsight, it is very easy to understand why Landes Levi has had such a sparse and elusive recording history, as she has spent much of her life traveling extensively, studying Indian music and poetry, translating, and writing prolifically.Also, the world has not exactly been clamoring for solo sarangi albums or Eastern devotional music, though appreciation for the pioneering work of kindred spirits La Monte Young and Catherine Christer Hennix has happily increased in recent years.Consequently, it is the perfect time for Landes Levi to finally claim her place in the pantheon of Eastern-influenced drone luminaries.Musically, Landes Levi is not unlike an orchid: she is excellent musician, but she needs exactly the right environment for her art to blossom into something strikingly beautiful and unique.With de Paepe and van Luijk, she found precisely that and her vision fully blooms with IKIRU.Louise Landes Levi is a singular person and this album is the one that finally befits that.Of course, I also loved her 2014 collaboration with Christer Hennix (From The Ming Oracle), but IKIRU is on a different plane altogether, easily ranking among the strongest and most memorable albums that any of the three participants have ever been involved in.
The inimitable David Tibet returns to House of Mythology for a second inspired collaboration, this time teaming up with shape-shifting Italian ensemble Zu. Unlike his more spacey and indulgent union with Youth, however, Mirror Emperor feels very much like a Current 93 album. That similarity is not due to any lack of vision on Zu's part though, as this album is very much driven by a David Tibet in peak wild-eyed, apocalyptic prophet form: Mirror Emperor is essentially a fiery, hallucinatory, and poetic tour de force that drags Zu down a deep rabbit hole in the UnWorld on the other side of the mirror. As such, Mirror Emperor is a dazzling and compelling album primarily because Tibet had a vivid vision that he breathlessly shares with an incandescent passion. The music is often quite good as well, of course, but Mirror Emperor is more of a lysergic epic poem than a collection of discrete songs. That is just fine by me, as few things are more captivating than pure, undiluted Tibet with a microphone and some strong feelings to share.
David Tibet and Zu first met in Rome about seven years ago, but Massimo Pupillo has been a lifelong Current 93 fan, which seems to have made him an especially sensitive and thoughtful collaborator.I suppose it could be said that Mirror Emperor falls roughly in the same aesthetic territory as Myrninerest or classic Cashmore-era Current 93, as Zu largely devote themselves to ringing arpeggios, strummed acoustic guitars, and moaning cellos.Mirror Emperor sounds like something other than folk though, more closely resembling some kind of timeless and dreamlike chamber music.More importantly, Zu tend to wisely cede the foreground to Tibet, as he is a force of nature here and they mostly just needed to avoid stepping on his toes or breaking that otherworldly spell in order to create a great album (simply give Tibet a pen, step aside, and watch the fireworks).That said, Zu were not at all timid or one-dimensional–they were just very tactful about picking their shots and choosing when to allow their hallucinatory reverie to erupt into something more forceful.The most prominent Zu eruption comes quite early with "Confirm The Mirror Emperor," which resembles a sludgy and Sabbath-inspired metal groove that has been sucked dry by a vampire, leaving only a thick and sinuous bass line.That absence of distorted guitars leaves plenty of space for interesting activity in the periphery though and Zu made the most of it, embellishing the piece with woozily swooning slide guitar, shuddering cellos, and something resembling erratic, cascading autoharp ripples.Zu also take center stage in more subtle fashion on "The Heart of The Mirror Emperor," weaving a simmering and throbbing soundscape of electronics and tape loops.Eventually, the piece boils into a crescendo of quavering washes of distorted chords, yet it is otherwise one of the most tender and quietly beautiful pieces on the entire album.Notably, there is also a brief, brooding interlude of murky ambiance sans Tibet near the end of the album, but Zu are largely absent as well, as the piece is essentially just a brief glimpse into the howling void.
Most of the strongest pieces unexpectedly come near the end of the album.The first is the languorously lovely "(The Absence of the Mirror Emperor)," which wonderfully recaptures the magic of All The Pretty Horses-era Current 93.A lot of that success is probably because it is one of the few pieces on the album that feels like an actual song, as Tibet's near-spoken-word delivery crosses the line into fleeting and beautiful snatches of melody.Zu's accompaniment is especially inspired as well, as the strummed acoustic guitars are gorgeously embellished with a delicately ringing harmonic motif and quivering, hauntingly lovely snatches of cello. It also features the best closing line since Tibet dropped a "Sincerely, L. Cohen" on the Myrninerest album (this time, it is a snarled "Hey, was that the apocalypse?").The following "Before the Mirror Emperor" is another highlight, as Tibet sings a tender and lilting melody over a sublimely beautiful backdrop of chiming arpeggios, groaning strings, spectral drones, and buried field recordings.Elsewhere, the brief and hopeful "The Imp Trip of the Mirror Emperor" is similarly lovely, as Tibet sings a languorous melody over a dreamy web of rippling and quivering arpeggios.It is noteworthy that most of the best songs seem to have a hopefulness and innocence to them, as Mirror Emperor's premise seems to be a fundamental dark one.The album is considerably more complex and deliciously ambiguous than the broad outlines of its dark fable suggest, however, as the arc flows seamlessly and assuredly through passages of light, shadow, density, and delicacy.It never gets dark enough to be truly harrowing, yet it does achieve a sublime transcendence at points.No darkness is ever complete enough to fully smother beauty and wonder, even though it sometimes feels otherwise.
It is redundant at this point to observe that David Tibet is a iconic and oracular artist, though it is sometimes easy to take him for granted, as he has been releasing brilliant albums for decades.However, a bold vision and near-Biblical intensity alone do not always translate into immortal work, as the metaphorical stars still need to be perfectly aligned for a fresh masterpiece to be birthed.Happily, those maddeningly unpredictable and obstinate stars were quite close to their marks when Tibet and Zu came together, as this album is one of the most focused, consistent, and vividly evocative releases from Tibet in years.In fact, I suspect I will be finding hidden depths and meanings in it for months to come (especially once I splurge on the vinyl to get my hands on a lyric sheet).To borrow Tibet's own parlance, I am ecstatically OverMoon to announce that Mirror Emperor is an especially powerful Channeling.This is truly something deeper and more profound than a mere album–this is a vividly constructed world and mythology that mirrors our own, but shimmers with ageless dark magic and layers of sublime mystery.Years from now (if people still read), I truly believe David Tibet will be justifiably regarded as the reawakening of the lost visionary poet tradition.If he is not the modern day heir to Blake and his progeny, there simply isn't one.
Recorded during the turbulent period following the closure of beloved Denver DIY space Rhinoceropolis, Prayer Hands takes the hazy, melancholy dream-pop beauty of Like Author, Like Daughter and distills it into a gut-punch of simmering and seething emotion. While the swooning, elegantly blurred pop of "Angel" is probably the release's biggest hook, Madeline Johnston and collaborator Tucker Theodore gamely expand the Midwife aesthetic in some more visceral and experimental directions as well. The result is a near-perfect release that features three gorgeously haunting gems of hissing and hypnagogic shoegaze heaven in a row.
The EP opens with the brief title piece, a dreamily warm and bittersweet web of rippling arpeggios that fades away after a couple minutes.While it ostensibly ends as a scratchy and unintentionally poetic answering machine message signals the start of the slow-burning "Forever," the two pieces feel like they segue together to deliciously prolong the gathering storm that finally breaks open when Johnston starts singing.While her vocals are characteristically melodic, tender, and languorously sensuous, they are doubled in quite a compelling and unique way.If I had to guess, I would say that the second layer of vocals are likely emerging from Theodore, but they are processed in such a way that they feel snarling and inhumanly infernal, lying somewhere between a rasping and demonic death metal howl and a strangled squall of white noise that seems to be supernaturally shaping itself into an approximation of a human voice.It is a wonderfully striking illusion.More than anyone else, Johnston seemed to have learned something crucial from Grouper, but found a way to do something new with it.While Johnston's vocals admittedly share Liz Harris's penchant for hazy reverb, the vocals on "Forever" do not sound like they are emerging from a fog so much as they sound like an unnerving interdimensional duet with a static demon.Few genres benefit from an infusion of visceral, otherworldly snarl more than dream-pop and shoegaze, as the tendency is to smother songs in too many effects or fall into the trap of thinking that the effects themselves are a song.With "Forever," Johnston and Theodore strike the perfect balance between slow-motion, soft-focus beauty and an undercurrent of screaming chaos.The vocal effects here simultaneously create a fog and viscerally tear through it.
Johnston's spectral double returns again for the more straightforwardly pretty "Angel," albeit in noticeably muted form, as her lilting vocal melody merely swirls through a haze of crackle and hiss.As with "Forever," it is an absolutely lovely song, but it is a much more benign one–it feels like a break-up song that is more of a tender reminiscence than a raw wound (and nothing supernatural seems to be trying to claw its way out of my speakers).In particular, Johnston and Theodore do an especially stellar job at fleshing the piece out with subtle layers of depth and color, gradually evolving from gauzy, shimmering guitar noise into a lovely coda that transforms the piece into a charming bit of sun-dappled backporch psychedelia (all the distortion falls away to leave only a lilting slide guitar melody, a strummed acoustic guitar, and a slow pulse of swelling reversed chords).Naturally, a piece entitled "Angel" has to be followed by a counterbalancing piece entitled "Demon," leading Prayer Hands into its droning, experimental and wonderfully hallucinatory final act."Demon" slowly fades in on a wave of tape hiss that sounds like waves cresting on a beach, but moaning layers of unintelligible backwards vocals gradually start to converge into a slow pulse.Soon after, that surreal tape loop miasma starts to shape itself into soaring and whooshing vocal flourishes and the guitar and drums finally kick in, dragging the spacey, undulating soundscape into a woozily beautiful instrumental swirling with buried melodies and intertwining, serpentine solos.In essence, it is a total psych-rock freak-out, Midwife-style: a glacial unfolding feast of seething layers and masterfully controlled, slow-building tension that never fully boils over.
With Prayer Hands, Midwife has officially entered the exclusive pantheon of Artists Who Have Floored Me Twice, as Madeline Johnston retains everything that was wonderful about her debut, but eliminates absolutely everything that diluted the cathartic power at the project's core.There is much to love here, as Johnston intuitively and organically stretches and reshapes conventional song structures to serve her slow-motion beauty perfectly and even the darkest stretches are alive with passion and melody.Moreover, she has crafted a moving elegy for an entire community (as well as an unintended one for a close friend) that feels like a transcendently great, soulful, and vibrantly alive dream-pop album.That is no small feat.In fact, Prayer Hands favorably reminds me of a half-remembered Charles Bukowski quote about why he was bored by Albert Camus: he preferred writers who screamed when they burned (existentially, not literally).Though I am sure that I totally mangled the quote, the sentiment has stuck with me for decades, as the world is full of art that buries its raw emotional core in mannered artifice.Midwife definitely does not fall into that trap, as Johnston's vision is a volcano swathed in dreamlike fog.This is everything I could possibly want in an EP: great songs, heartfelt intensity, depth, and plenty of unconventional ideas executed masterfully.Prayer Hands is easily one of my favorite releases of 2018.
"Deluxe DVD edition of The Well-Tuned Piano in The Magenta Lights, containing La Monte Young’s continuous 6 hour-24 minute performance of his masterpiece is now back in print for the first time since 2001. Comes with a 52-page booklet, which includes La Monte and Marian’s essays on their works. Edition of 500, one time pressing.
High Minimalism - one of the great, revolutionary musical movements of the 20th century, is marked by a canon of towering and iconic works - Dennis Johnson's November, Riley’s In C, Conrad’s Four Violins, Reich's Drumming, Palestine’s Four Manifestations On Six Elements, Wada’s Lament For The Rise And Fall Of The Elephantine Crocodile, the list goes on. Even in the face of these marvels - the radicalism and wonder, little comes close to wild ambition of La Monte Young's great, evolving masterpiece, The Well-Tuned Piano - among the most beloved works in the body of Minimalism's output. Initially recorded in 1981, issued as a now impossibly rare 5LP set in 1987, Young’s continuous 6-hour-and-24 minute performance of the work was recorded again in 1987 and released as a DVD in 2000, with the new subtitle, In The Magenta Lights, going quickly out of print and remaining so ever since. Now, in a momentous event, the composer’s own MELA Foundation and Just Dreams recordings have issued a new deluxe DVD edition of The Well-Tuned Piano in The Magenta Lights, making it available to the public for the first time in nearly 20 years. This is as big as it gets.
Begun in 1964 and premiered ten years later, The Well-Tuned Piano, despite its consuming and immersive duration, is regarded by Young to be an unfinished work, slowly evolving in his hand, mind, and ears over the decades. Utilizing his own just-intonated tuning system, divided into seven structural / thematic intervals of varying length, the work, being improvisation, is ever-changing with no specific form. Considered by many to be among the great achievements of 20th-century music, it is one those rare works which is known by almost every fan of avant-garde music, while having been heard and seen by comparatively very few - the Gramavision release being virtually unobtainable, the initial DVD having been only issued in an edition constrained to the low hundreds, and performances having been scarce at best.
This realization of The Well-Tuned Piano In Magenta Lights was recorded and filmed in concert May 10, 1987, at 155 Mercer Street, New York City, with the subtitled referring to its accompanying light-installation by Marian Zazeela, Young's partner and collaborator since the early 1960s. A work of shimmering sonority, challenging relationships, The Well-Tuned Piano deserves every bit of its legendary status - an entire rethinking of the way the piano is seen, understood, and heard, singing down the decades since its early versions began to appear.
Issued by the composer himself, this new edition expands the original accompany booklet, including La Monte and Marian's essays on their works, to 52 pages with a new essay by their senior disciple Jung Hee Choi. For the first time, in these notes, Jung Hee illuminates the the tuning underlying this masterpiece of composition, for all to understand. This issue of The Well-Tuned Piano In Magenta Lights is as important and as essential as they come. 6 hours and 24 minutes of pure bliss. It won't sit around for long. Who knows if we'll see it again before another 20 years."
"Finally, Roland Kayn’s breathtaking cybernetic salvo, Simultan; one of the most important works by one of the 20th century's greatest (if unsung) composers; all newly remastered from original tapes and reissued for the first time since the original 1977 release by classical music label, Colosseum.
Italy's Die Schachtel, following the lead of Frozen Reeds' 16CD edition of A Little Milky Way of Sound in 2017, have the honour of reintroducing Simultan into the wild. Presented to the highest possible standards on the format it was intended for, the unfeasibly complex dynamics and revelatory perceptive spaces opened up inside Simultan are bound to generate jaw-dropping reactions with Kayn's growing ranks of followers and even the most hard-to-please fans of outer-limit composition.
Collapsing ideas from electro-acoustic, concrète, electronic, and computer music disciplines into what he termed “cybernetic music,” Kayn methodically and effectively worked off-the-radar towards a form of Artificial Intelligence in music from 1962 until his death in 2011. Building on his earlier studies with seminal figures such as Boris Blacher and Oskar Sala, as well as time spent playing organ and piano with Ennio Morricone and Egisto Macchi's exploratory Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, Kayn devoted his life’s work toward realizing what would become recognized among the most incredible, genuinely prism-pushing arrangements of sound ever recorded.
Simultan is the first in a series of seminal Roland Kayn boxed sets released between 1977 and his blinding masterpiece Tektra in 1984. While he had previously contributed Cybernetics III to a Deutsche Grammofon split with Luigi Nono, Simultan was where Kayn's ideas really came to fruition, and with results that practically document the birth of a new music, or a computer manifesting its first signs of sentience in sound.
Weighing in at six pieces clocking in at over two hours, it's arguably a difficult, spasmodic birth when compared with the smoother contours and expansive arrangements of his subsequent releases, but that amorphous atonality and noisy unpredictability accounts for much of the attraction to Simultan, which sounds like very little before it, or even since.
If you're the insatiably curious, technically pedantic type, then many of your queries about Kayn’s music will be answered in the lucubrate liner notes included on the insert, which provide all the technical context one would need to know. But it’s better to just dive head-first into Simultan and let your head be consumed, dissolved into those micro-organismic diffusions and unfathomable chaos.
Mercifully this 2nd wind will prevail on further reissues of Kayn’s aforementioned run of boxed sets up to and including Tektra. We advise making some space on your shelves and your calendar to spend some time with this incredible music.""
"Jim O'Rourke returns with his first physical solo album since 2015's Simple Songs, following a relatively steady supply of download-only releases via his Steamroom Bandcamp (over 20 of them since 2015) and collaborations with John Duncan, Keiji Haino, Oren Ambarchi, Peter Brötzmann, Merzbow, Fennesz and others in the interim. Anyone familiar with his exceptional Steamroom output will have an inkling of what to expect here; this is Jim O'Rourke at his most meditative, absorbing and quietly subversive, making use of little more than synthesizer, pedal steel, piano and shortwave radio for one extended 45 minute piece (punctuated by a few moments of silence) designed to mess with contemporary notions of "ambient" music.
Sleep Like It's Winter took O'Rourke two years to construct after being approached by the fledgling Newhere label to submit an ambient album. As he explained recently in an interview with ele-king: "I didn't set out to make an ambient record but it's sort of about making an ambient record more than it's an ambient record (laughing) you know? Pretty much everything I do is about what it is as opposed to being it. Just making any record in terms of "make a record in this genre" is anathema to me, but I decided to do it because it was such a revolting idea! (Laughs) Not that I dislike ambient music – I don't mean that. That’s just not the way I think when I make things, so it was such a bizarre proposal that I decided to do it."
Citing Eno's Discreet Music (as opposed to Eno’s work after the word Ambient had been adapted ) as well as Roland Kayn as influences, he goes on to explain "Roland Kayn was the biggest guy for me. Someone could call his music ambient but it's way too aggressive for that. The idea of his music is you create the system and then you just let it go. The challenge is how can you create a system that still represents the ideas even though you’ve let it go. If you look at some of the last decade or so of Cage's scores, like the number pieces, they create these systems. These later Number Pieces of his are really interesting because, if you do them correctly, they’re really constraining even though they don't seem to be. Whereas someone like Kayn and what Brian Eno were doing, especially in the '70s, they still want a result but they want to be hands off about it."
The result is a layered and complex piece that takes multiple listens to fully get to grips with, revealing layers of detail deployed within a structure that seems to evaporate into its surroundings. In that respect, Sleep Like It's Winter subverts its brief with an incredible sleight of hand; a piece of music designed to actively, deeply engage but which camouflages itself into the background. It operates within the grid, however faint and hard to define.
"For me, in making this record, the most important thing was, "Where is a line where you decide to give up on formal structures completely?" and, "Where is a line where formal structures can still be perceived but they’re not being shouted at you? For me, in that way of thinking of music, which I’ve been moving towards my entire life slowly but surely (laughs)…""
"Sunnies on, drop-top down, sferic cruise the best coast with Jake Muir, an artist and field recordist hailing from Los Angeles, California, where he’s previously recorded and released albums under the Monadh moniker for Further Records and Touch, the latter of which on the compilation Live At Human Resources, where he took part in a beautiful group tribute to Jóhann Jóhannsson along with a number of solo contributions.
On Lady's Mantle Muir unfurls a poignant sound image crafted from samples of a well loved American pop group and later smudged with aqueous field recordings made everywhere from Iceland to the beaches of California. In nine succinct scenes, the results loosely limn a wide sense of space and place with its fading harmonic auroras and glinting, half-heard surf rock melodies rendered in an abstract impressionist manner that suggests a fine tracing of in-between-spaces, perhaps describing metropolitan sprawl giving way to vast mountain ranges and oceanic scales.
In effect the album recalls the intoxicated airs of Pinkcourtesyphone (a.k.a L.A. resident Richard Chartier) as much as Andrew Pekler's sensorial soundscapes and even the plangent production techniques of Phil Spector. But for all its implied sense of space, ultimately there’s a paradoxically close intimacy to proceedings which feels like you're the passenger in Muir's ride, and he patently knows the scenic route..."
"I think of myself as a naturalist no matter the palette," says Lori Scacco, the New York multi-instrumentalist, composer, and electronic musician whose new album, Desire Loop, is Mysteries of the Deep's third full-length LP.
Natural indeed: Scacco's music effuses warmth, enveloping listeners like a gentle embrace. Her first album, Circles, was released in the early aughts on Eastern Developments, an imprint co-founded by Guillermo Scott Herren, aka Prefuse 73. She spent much of the interim period composing music for performance, film, and classical ballet, influences audible throughout Desire Loop.
Flush with incandescent scree, bubbly synthesizer, and easygoing dulcet tones, the album's simplicity belies its emotional impact. At times — "Cosmographia" and "Other Flowers," for instance — Scacco's songwriting approaches a therapeutic purity that feels nearly virtuous, immaculate. This is by design: she wrote this album as counterpoint to today's destructive political landscape. "I had to create an empathic means of access for myself, and in turn, for the listener, using the core of all that I value as my way into the music,” she explains.
"I wanted to provide a vehicle for the listener to impart their own emotional experience without imposing my own meaning. I found myself returning to that space over and over again.” After listening to Desire Loop, we expect that you will, too.
On Don’t Look Away, Tucker contrasts traditional song structure with experimental collage and rich orchestral arrangements. Featuring guest appearances from Nik Void (Carter Tutti Void, Factory Floor) on vocals and Daniel O’Sullivan on viola, the album emerged during a particularly prolific creative period for Tucker that saw him composing for the Schauspielhaus Zürich in Switzerland, and establishing UNDIMENSIONED, his own independent publishing imprint.
Following the release of Don't Look Away, Tucker will be heading out on a European tour, including a special album release show at the Shacklewell Arms in London on 5th September. Special guests include Paper Dollhouse and a DJ sets from the crew behind new archival imprint Disciples.
Launching their Lower Floor imprint in 2017 has turned out to be one of the best ideas that Wolf Eyes have ever had, establishing a new outlet that thus far has a near-perfect track record of only releasing the band's strongest and most coherent material. This latest installment, a reissue of an early masterwork from the Aaron Dilloway years, continues that hot streak beautifully. Dread is a murderers' row of grimy, shambling, and ruined delights, featuring two absolute monster bookends with no filler or half-baked experiments in between. This album is broken, thuggish, and ugly in all the best ways–I cannot think of any other Wolf Eyes album quite as simultaneously focused and inspired as this one.
There is truly no better way to open a Wolf Eyes album than a piece like "Burn Your House Down," in which Nate Young repeated howls that he is going to do exactly that over a shuddering and heaving mechanized nightmare held together by an obsessively swooping and plunging bass snarl.As brutal as it is, "Burn Your House Down" is perversely elegant in its simplicity: there is one strong motif and one (very) strong lyrical sentiment that relentlessly move forward through a howling chaos of broken beats, sputtering electronics, strangled feedback, and mangled samples.Also, it is a remarkably concise piece, as is the later "Let the Smoke Rise."On more recent albums, the band's best material tends to take the shape of longer pieces, but Wolf Eyes had some of the lingering intuitions of a rock band at this stage and it suited them well: Dread is ostensibly a noise album, but it does not exactly feel like one, as there are skeletons of hooks, rhythms, and songs within its burning wreckage.Also, Young's world-weary, stream-of-consciousness vocals give Wolf Eyes a humanity and charisma that is lacking in most other noise artists' work (even if it is arguably an anti-charisma).There are certainly moments of brute force here, but Young, Dilloway, and John Olson generally worked quite hard to be menacing through mood and texture rather than raw power.
Even the longer pieces on Dread feel like ingeniously crafted "songs" rather than sprawling experiments–they just take a more slow-burning approach in which several broken and meandering threads unexpectedly converge into something of real power.The 14-minute "Desert of Glue/Wretched Hog" is an especially deft example of that, as it initially sounds like someone just dicking around with a thudding, go-nowhere drum machine pattern amidst some random electronic squiggles.Once Young's vocals appear, however, it coheres into an endearingly lurching, sparse, and fitful pulse embellished by a surreal miasma of tape-based lunacy (elephant noises are an especially delightful recurring theme).At some point, it all seemingly dissolves into indulgent chaos, yet a stomping new beat soon reforms to resurgently bulldoze its way through a cacophony of splattering electronics and distressed-sounding didgeridoo.When Young reappears to announce that he is "coming on like a wretched mess," he fucking means it and he is entirely correct.I had a much harder time warming to the 11-minute "Half Animal, Half Insane" because it takes such a long time (roughly 8 minutes) to build up to its gloriously dumb and pummeling crescendo, but it is actually a dark horse candidate for the album's coolest song.Once it catches fire, it feels like a compellingly grotesque caricature of meat-headed, "angry guy" rock–like Phil Anselmo bravely soldiering though Pantera's final song at a gig where all the instruments are broken and on fire and a chittering swarm of robotic insects has engulfed the audience.
The album closes with its second brilliant "single," the 4-minute "Let the Smoke Rise."It shares the deceptively elegant (if slime-coated) simplicity of the album's opener, but lowers the intensity to a bubbling simmer: the piece is little more than Young's sneering and nihilistic anti-poetry over an erratic and heaving groove that sounds like a poorly built machine on its last legs.Also, one of the lines sounds a lot like "Baby, I'm Oedipal," which is very amusing.In any case, it is the fourth great song in a row on Dread: all killer, no filler.I dearly wish I had heard this album sooner.Like many people, I first encountered Wolf Eyes with 2004's Burned Mind.I liked it, but it definitely did not motivate me to try to track down the bands' earlier releases, as I would never have guessed that Wolf Eyes were much better a few years earlier (for one or two albums, at least).I love some of their recent albums too, so it is debatable whether Dread is Wolf Eyes' absolute zenith, but I have no doubts about whether it is essential (it is).Dread is a perfect and improbable confluence of disparate aesthetics that no one else could ever replicate: a potent and visceral collision of high-brow and low-brow that deftly avoids the weaknesses of either.There is nothing else quite like Wolf Eyes at their peak, an experience akin to being stomped by a violent biker gang over a disagreement about their views on musique concrète or Jacques Derrida's indirect influence on underground rock.
As the pairing of drummer/percussionist Marshall Trammell and Zachary James Watkins on guitars and electronics, Black Spirituals has had a short, but overwhelmingly brilliant run of experimental albums. Black Access/Black Axes represents the final release in this arrangement (Watkins will be continuing to use the name, however, but with different collaborators), and also a band at the their peak. Drawing from the worlds of noise, jazz, and rock—but never easily settling in to any of those more limiting genres—the album instead encompasses everything, and makes for one of the most multifaceted, and amazing, albums so far this year.
There are distinct themes of reappropriation and decolonialization throughout the record, which are all clearly aligned with the roughly defined styles that make up Black Access/Black Axes.First, the jazz influences in Trammell’s drumming and the subtle rock and roll elements in Watkins’ guitar work echo two styles of music that were initially Black creations, but later co-opted (and in many cases diluted) by White artists who profited on their imitations.Here those signifiers are presented in a unique, fresh context that neither fully sound like their original forms, nor their distilled modern interpretations, but instead something entirely new and unique.
More subtle, in my opinion, would be that these jazz and rock tendencies are recast in an overall more avant garde and experimental context.The former has too often been within the purview of snooty academia, limiting both race and social class among its earliest practitioners.The world of noise, however, ends up being the most damning, with its use of provocative themes that have too often embraced fascism, bigotry, and misogyny.Either way, both styles have never been anything close to inclusive, but Black Spirituals' work sonically fits into both, but also transcends such a label.
It may seem like a minor detail, but it is an important distinction:Black Spirituals is not a duo, but a duet of two soloists working together.Meaning that, any one of the ten pieces spread across the two records could be either just Trammell or Watkins' work absent the other, and would still make for a powerful record.This fact is made apparent towards the middle of the album, with "Want" being largely understated electronics and field recordings (Watkins' specialty), before immediately transitioning into the rapid, amazingly complex solo drumming of Trammell on "Anti Up".
When the two are performing together, however, the final product is even more marvelous.The noisy opening and feedback squall of "Inference" heralds Trammell’s hyperkinetic drumming, a tight, dynamic pairing of dissonant elements that are soon melded together by Watkins’ guitar, which drifts between aggressive squeal and melodic motifs.Surging electronics and lighter rhythms open "Treatment" on a more calm, meditative note, but the two dial things up in time, with the drums becoming faster and more intense, and electronics and guitar getting grittier and rawer with each passing moment, reaching a pinnacle of organized chaos before then rolling back.
The calmer moments on Black Access/Black Axes are no less essential either."Condition" may open with an aggressive electronic buzz, but Watkins keeps some shimmering lighter tones deep in the mix.Trammell’s drumming is a bit more restrained tempo-wise and it makes for a greater sense of tranquility throughout.The first half of "Dissension" is also somewhat peaceful, with a well-controlled electronic drone and sparse, intricate drumming throughout.Afterwards, however, it starts to build, with the rhythms becoming gradually louder and more forceful, and soaring improvised guitar leads.
While I am sad to hear that this will be the final Black Spirituals record in this configured, it cannot be argued that in this duet form, Marshall Trammell and Zachary James Watkins are going out at the top of their game as performers and collaborators.Black Access/Black Axes is a wonderfully multilayered record that covers everything, from meditative complexity to the undeniable joy that loud, distorted electric guitars can bring.Which is another defining facet of this record:the spirituals part of the project’s name is quite descriptive, because even among the noise, distortion, and pounding rhythms, every song here is imbued with a sense of joy and celebration.Even within the ever-declining American social climate that Black Spirituals draws from here, there is an undeniable sense of positivity, strength, and joy.Black Access/Black Axes is a massive record, and one that is easy among the best I have heard in years.