Being thankful for an earful.
Brand new music by Marie Davidson, Niecy Blues (feat. Joy Guidry), CEL, Marisa Anderson and Luke Schneider, Stina Stjern, Carmen Villain, Murcof, A Lily, and Far Golden Pavilions, with music from the vaults by Tomaga, Ozzobia, Jan Jelinek.
Sushi photo by Lindsay.
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UnicaZürn build their long, ceaselessly evolving musical compositions through a process of improvisation followed by careful editing and processing. Their music, drawn from subconscious associations while recording, is frequently aquatic or oceanic in overall mood and texture. Knight has spent most of his life living on the banks of the Thames while Thrower resides on the East Sussex coast, and their musical flights of imagination tend toward rolling river dynamics and the open seas of synthesised sound.
For UnicaZürn, tidal imagery, oceanic forms and the slow rhythms of coastal water are a recurring structural presence, with strong associations of rootlessness, of being far away from home, a stranger in a strange land. The inability of human lungs to breathe water endows rivers and seas with a special poetics: a boundary between two different but inter-related states. On the one hand, solidity, clarity, definition; on the other, fluidity, uncertainty, dissolution. The sense of a threshold between opposites gives rise to an elusive otherness, suggesting a portal through which the everyday world can be escaped. Death under the water, the survivors of a lost kingdom clinging to the rocks of an unfamiliar island, a coastal boat ride into deepest abstraction, a deserted beach expressing a world outside reality.
A sexual frisson too: a hovering at the brink, poised at the turbulent edge of pleasure, swept away into oblivion. Do we head toward the sea when we want to escape? And at the coastline, do we walk to the edge because we want to jump, or be swept away by an unexpected wave? There’s a darkness in the sea, even if illuminated by the most dazzling sunshine. Open horizons shows the clutter of our lives to be transient, and as we look to the sea we feel a dizzying sense of the eternal. Aquatic sensibility, oceanic timescales: the action of the salt sea beating on the shore. Each grain of sand a rock smashed to dust. Beaches are cosmic, elemental. They are images of time.
UnicaZürn’s core instrumentation blends analogue synthesiser, mellotron and electric piano with electric guitar and clarinet. Both Thrower and Knight draw upon their love and wide experience of of electronic music, from the outer shores of Stockhausen to the outer spaceways of Tangerine Dream. In addition, Knight is reknowned for his pioneering multi-textured fretwork with Danielle Dax and his ambient guitar settings for Lydia Lunch, while Thrower’s reed playing provided a distinctive melancholy in Coil and emerged as electro-acoustic texture in Cyclobe.
More information can be found here.
A Pink Sunset For No One is the eighth studio album from Noveller, the solo electric guitar project from US composer and filmmaker.
One of the most adept guitarists of our time, Lipstate returns with her signature breathtaking cinematic, experimental soundscapes. Eloquent and striking, her instrumentals evoke colorful and otherworldly imagery. Lipstate writes in majestic, emotional strokes with pieces ranging from remarkably tense environments to shimmering psychedelic rock or unraveling into something darker.
More information can be found here.
A few years ago, my dear friend and bandmate Jamie Stewart and I were talking about SWANS. I started to mention how much I admired the utterly personal approach to guitar that Norman Westberg had developed on those early records and moreover how that had blossomed out so richly on this latest incarnation of the band. During the course of the conversation Jamie mentioned a CDR that Norman had passed to him, which collected a few pieces of solo work that Norman had been working on. I was instantly curious to hear these pieces and started to track down the recordings online. After some investigating I found Norman’s CDRs available through an Etsy shop he had set up. I ordered one and a couple of weeks later, after I’d listened to that first CDR non-stop for a few days, I order all the others I could get my hands on.
The first solo work I heard from Norman was this recording, Jasper Sits Out. I was instantly struck by the textural sensitivity he managed to create with nothing more than a guitar and some modest pedals. He managed to find a depth in what was a very limited palette and that impressed me greatly. The connections to his work with SWANS was clear, in that his trademark relation to tonality was present. Instead of relying on volume to achieve this sonic state though, Norman’s solo practice relied on a sense of swaying harmony and orbiting loops to create a tonally dense sound world that was very much personal, but overtly invitational to the listener.
Jasper Sits Out, the title referencing the Westberg family mascot who has now sadly departed, reflects Norman’s interest in minimal structures and the processes of iteration that are formed through the manipulation of looping fragments. Creating almost tidal surges across these pieces, Jasper Sits Out speaks to his abilities to contour sound in time. The lead track for example is truly oceanic in that is has a remarkable tidal flow of strumming textures that seem to sink below one another in a effortless wash of textural density.
I could not be more pleased to be able to share this music through Room40. This edition comes completely remastered and features a bonus piece recorded exclusively for this edition. I encourage you to listen deeply.
- Lawrence English January 2017
So complex and substance-affected was their evolution, Bardo Pond have been creating their dreamy riffs for 26 years alongside a myriad of side projects and their prolific Record Store Day releases. Returning with a career defining album, Under The Pines sees them delve into the subconscious with their transcending cosmic post-rock.
Over 41 minutes The Pond’s fermentation, their languid throb and textured groove (flute, violin, Isobel Sollenberger’s haunting vocals) sounds like cathartic dream pop wrapped in a delicately constructed barbwire shroud.
“Playing fuzzed-out stuff of stoner dreams since the mid '90s,” (thanks Pitchfork) and beyond the mentions of free jazz, the avant garde, Sun Ra and The Book Of The Dead, Bardo Pond’s remarkable career and exemplary output has seen them gain fans from all corners of the pond. In 2010 Lou Reed and his wife Laurie Anderson invited them to perform at the Vivid festival they curated at the Sydney Opera House, not forgetting they were recently handpicked to support Jesus & Mary Chain at London’s Roundhouse as part of Mogwai’s 20th Anniversary and Stewart Lee chose them for the All Tomorrow’s Parties festival which he curated just last year.
Hailed for their space rock, drone, shoegaze, noise and/or psychedelia, and in a super lengthy interview in Ptolemaic Terrascope enthused (back in 2001) that they were somewhere between John Cage’s silence on 4’33 and Japanese noisenik Merzbow’s total ear-splitting cacophony.
One of their finest albums to date and nearly three decades on, Bardo Pond are in it for the long haul and remain one of the most significant underground rock bands of our time.
More information can be found here.
Ultra-modern computer music duo Second Woman offer a preview of their forthcoming Spectrum Spools opus, S/W, with an exclusive EP taking cues from the furthest fringes of digital dub and experimental software composition. “I E/P” and “II E/P” utilize percussive stutter, micro-processed echo, and negative space to explore the limits of rhythmic abstraction, blurring the boundary between human artistry and artificial intelligence. A pair of remixes by Grecian dub-techno progenitor Fluxion and Midwest avant-footwork producer Jlin round out the collection, innovatively mining the source material for vivid rhythmic contours.
More information can be found here.
I am not fond of tossing the term "weird" out to describe music. Not only is it a vague and somewhat stigmatizing label, I do not consider a lot of what I hear to fit that term. I mean, I have albums of car crashes (GX Jupitter-Larsen), noise made by a ballerina’s performance (The Rita), and on stage improvised masturbation (The Gerogerigegege). However, Carp’s Head is hard to describe in any other way. With painfully guttural vocals by Ghédalia Tazartès, percussion by Andrzej Załęsku, and everything else by Paweł Romańczuk, it is like an Eastern European folk album vomited on an electro-acoustic work and the two were just mashed together with purely malicious intent.
The beginning of "Danse Inverse" is somehow one of the more cohesive works.A pulsing bit of electronics at first; it suddenly becomes a mutant synth take on folk music, with the guttural vocals channeling darkness not unlike a black metal album.Later, on "Dobra Nasza," an expansive opening of improvised, shimmering electronics and inhuman vocalizations eventually give way to a jazz-heavy rhythm section and almost conventional rock music vocals (structurally at least, the voice itself is still quite inhuman).
Even with its rhythmic opening and occasional plucked string, "The Far Horizon" is overall dissonant and unpleasant, with a lot of menace in its occasionally open spaces.The drums on "Wild East Blues" may be an almost conventional reference point, but the slow shuffle tempo and terrifying vocals are anything but normal, and even the accordion thrown into the mix takes on a dark hue.Later, on the somewhat peaceful "The End of Western World," the nearly operatic vocal style casts a menacing shadow onto the piece’s bowed strings and chiming percussion, which, on their own would have an almost classical sound.
Perhaps the most unsettling moments are courtesy of the two part "Wolves and Birds" (the second piece is not on the vinyl album but on the companion CD version of the album).The title is rather descriptive, with the first part being field recordings of birds chirping in the distance.However, the hollow drone and far off vocalizations (the wolves part, I assume) give the ambience of an oppressive jungle at night.Things can be heard, not really identifiable and not at all human sounding, but just far enough away to build tension rather than having the trio opt for horror movie scares.The second part is more field recording collage based, with only a bit of cymbal sounding musical, and has the same sense of the oppressive unknown throughout.
The adorable kitten that features on the cover of Carp's Head could not be less of an accurate representation of what is included.This is one of those records where the weirdness comes across not as a contrived attempt to be bizarre or unique, but gives the record a genuinely unsettling quality.Even without Tazartès’ intentionally unpleasant vocals, the sound would be uncomfortable, but the voice just pushes it even further.But I am always an advocate that art does not have to be pleasant to be enjoyable, and this is definitely one of those cases.It is not the type of music I would put on often, but when I am in the mood to be challenged and a bit unsettled, this is one I will reach for.
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Grand Line, Nakama’s last release and the project’s second overall, was a sometimes-chaotic mass of free jazz improvisations held together by a structured sense of composition that seemed to be at odds with the music itself. Most Intimate has a similarly focused conceptual foundation, but rather than the grand gestures of the last album, here they are much more personal, with the quartet members each writing parts for one another to play. The concept is admittedly complex and convoluted, but in execution it works in more ways than just being a novelty.
Most Intimate is made up of a series of "Dedications," "Gratitudes," and "Unifications."The dedication pieces involved one member of the quartet writing a piece in honor of another member, with the caveat that the performer receiving the dedication did not perform.The subsequent gratitude piece is that recipient playing a solo performance in response.Finally, the unification is a performance by the full quartet, but with the person giving the dedication and the person receiving swapping instruments.This is bookended by two full band pieces, and an improvisation in the middle where the members play the instrument they did not in one of the previous arrangements.
Yes, it is complex enough that a diagram or a flow chart could have been provided to specify all of these varying arrangements, but it really is unnecessary to appreciate the album.Unsurprisingly the opening and closing pieces ("Intimate" and "Most Intimate", respectively) are the most traditionally composed and rich sounding, with not only all performers involved, but also playing their preferred instruments (as duos).For "Intimate" a slow, intentionally repetitive passage of Christian Meaas Svendsen's bass and Adrian L√∏seth Waade's violin as first establishing a rhythm, with Ayumi Tanaka's piano adding a delicate counterpart.Percussionist Andreas Wildhagen's contribution is a sparse, but effective passage of cymbal playing.Concluding "Most Intimate" is less of an insistent rhythm and more of an expansive piece of music.Driven by piano and violin, with the bass and percussion being more of an accent, there is a gentle peacefulness to the piece that is subtle and light without being insubstantial.
The first "Dedication" piece, omitting percussion, is also an extremely graceful sounding work, one that at times drifts precariously close to an easy listening jazz sound, but never crosses that line.The following "Gratitude" piece is therefore a performance for solo drums and has Wildhagen doing a lot with just a standard kit.With the toms played lightly enough to have a resonating melodic quality to them, there is significant depth to the solo, and the exceptionally high quality recording really helps magnify these subtleties.The short "Unification" that follows has a higher tempo and a looser, more urgent improvised sound that at times drifts nicely into more abrasive territory.
The rest of the album follows this model, with the violin-less "Dedication II" taking on percussive throb that makes it stand out, both from rattling snare drums and more aggressive piano with a more aggressive sound.It is followed by the violin solo "Gratitude II" featuring L√∏seth Waade's instrument played in mostly unconventional ways, such as sharp string bowing or muted plucks."Gratitude III" omits the piano and in turn becomes a less melodic, slowly building rhythmic piece, and Meaas Svendsen's subtle vibrations of "Gratitude IV" compliments the spacious and delicate preceding "Dedication IV" very well.
Nakama is all about conceptual complexity, and Most Intimate is no different.However, it is not necessary to fully appreciate the album.My first listen was actually without any knowledge of the underlying theory and structure used, and I found it enjoyable just on that superficial level.The varying arrangements make for a diverse sound, mostly following a pattern of a more open sounding piece, then a solo, then a full band improvisation that has a distinct rawness to it likely magnified by the fact that half of the band are not on their primary instruments.With that alone it is a wonderful album of pieces of varying complexity, and the knowledge of how it was conceived is just an extra dimension to appreciate.
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I can think of few bands that are as cheerfully single-minded in their aesthetic vision as Esplendor Geométrico.  In fact, I suspect I could have written a remarkably accurate (if vague) review of Fluida Mekaniko without ever having heard it: lots of visceral and hypnotic percussion loops, no melodic hooks at all, plenty of low-level radio wave and static chaos, and some occasional tuneless and rambling vocals from Saverio Evangelista.  Done.  Predictably, Fluida Mekaniko DOES provide all of that, but I keep buying Esplendor Geométrico albums because they also tend to feature at least one or two absolutely mesmerizing pieces where everything comes together perfectly and Arturo Lanz seems like a goddamn genius. Fluida Mekaniko continues that tradition beautifully and even finds room to let in a bit more light and nuance than usual.  As a result, it is probably one of EG's strongest and most listenable albums yet.
The opening "Sindroma" is textbook prime Esplendor Geométrico, instantly launching into an obsessive and infectious rhythm that lies somewhere pummeling industrial repetition and shuffling Latin sensuousness.  As with just about all EG pieces, the groove is absolutely everything.  There is certainly plenty of activity in the periphery (washes of white noise and burbling electronics), but it is mostly there to add density and enough textural variation to keep the propulsive and relentless rhythm dynamically compelling.  It is a well-used and very simple formula, but it works extremely well here.
"Sindroma" is also one of the rare pieces on Fluida Mekaniko to prominently feature vocals.  Describing Evangelista’s vocals as "spoken" or "shouted" does not quite hit the mark, as they have a distracted-sounding and somewhat arbitrary element that makes me feel like I am overhearing half of a cell phone argument in Spanish.  Curiously, that does not detract from the piece at all, as–again–the groove is absolutely everything.  The vocals are just one more thing that happens to be occurring.  As much as I like "Sindroma," however, it is "Kooperativo Centrifugilo" that is the absolute zenith of the album, resembling an unstoppable juggernaut of a mechanized Latin dance party bulldozing through a protest rally: no frills, just pure hypnotic and all-consuming rhythm.  Elsewhere, "Todavia Mas" is an arguable dark horse contender for the album's centerpiece: though it boasts a fairly standard-issue EG groove, the surrounding music is surprisingly harrowing and ambitious, resembling a pitch-shifted fascist rally being dive-bombed by menacing swoops of swirling and flanging electronics.  The deep, lurching, relentlessly forward-moving shuffle of "Objektiva" is also quite absorbing, even going so far as to break with tradition by attempting a sort of stuttering left-field hook.
Within the extremely narrow confines of the EG sound, however, Evangelista and Arturo Sanz do sometimes find room to experiment a bit.  For example, "Tempa Akso" keeps the percussion at a bubbling background simmer for a bizarre soundscape of gurgling and gargling vocals that sounds like an infernal choir of cicadas or crickets.  It is probably not one of the album's best pieces, but it is an interesting and unexpected detour nonetheless.  A bit closer to my expectations is "Tenante La Ritmon," which intriguingly deconstructs EG's penchant for crushing rhythms into little more than a rolling bass rumble that sounds like a contact mic at the base of a mountain as a distant avalanche approaches.  My favorite (and the most endearing) of the anomalies, however, is definitely "Eterno Della Vita," which (unintentionally?) boasts a repeating loop that makes me think that Lanz and Evangelista are about to grab their surfboards and hit the beach.  Second prize probably goes to "Mosselprom," which sounds like the bizarre middle ground where Middle Eastern rave, mass demonstrations, and "hip" action movie soundtracks all improbably come together (picture Jason Statham suavely administering choreographed beatings to everyone who stands in his way at a crowded and churning rooftop party in Abu Dhabi).
Naturally, the issues with Fluida Mekaniko are the same ones that have followed Esplendor Geométrico for most of their career:  there is an obvious formula, these pieces are all just rhythmic vamps rather than evolving songs, and melodies or strong hooks are in short supply.  To their credit, however, Lanz and Evangelista do not make any attempt to conceal those issues or change at all.  Rather, they make a perverse virtue of them.  I am especially fond of the way Evangelista continually subverts the normal expectations for a vocalist, seemingly viewing himself as someone who merely provides the ambient sounds of a typical day at the giant crushing beat factory. Viewing Esplendor Geométrico as a factory makes perfect sense, actually: they single-mindedly produce one thing and one thing only (viscerally heavy and obsessively repeating rhythms) better than anyone else around, so there is no urgent need to expand their available services anytime soon.  That said, EG definitely tweaked operations in a significant way this time around, most likely as a result of their recent touring.  For example, this album is lot less brooding and 'industrial' than its predecessor (Ultraphoon). Also, Lanz and Evangelista seem to have unexpectedly cultivated a lighter touch with their samples–there is still plenty of noise and entropy, but some more poignant snatches of melody and dialogue now manage to sometimes bubble their way up to the surface or peak through the mechanized display of force.  Rhythm and power are still king though.  Characteristically, it is the more vibrant "global" dance rhythms that work the best and there are only a handful of such pieces, but Fluida Mekaniko's other fare is unexpectedly strong and varied enough to keep the momentum going for the entire album.
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It occurred to me the other day that there was an incredible wave of great, experimentally minded solo guitarists several years back (Area C, Black Eagle Child, Talvihorros) that has either gone completely silent or moved into very different territory and that no one has quite risen up to replace them.  Thankfully, however, the wildly prolific Justin Wright has not gone anywhere and continues to be a tireless torchbearer, both through his Sonic Meditations label and his own Expo Seventy project.  Given the sheer volume of Expo Seventy releases, I tend to only check in on the major ones and this one fits the bill: recorded as part of a three-week art event in Kansas City (America: Here and Now), Wright was able to assemble a like-minded quartet featuring two drummers to back his slow-burning psych-rock pyrotechnics.  At its best, the results are surprisingly accessible and anthemic, like a time-stretched and deconstructed Black Sabbath jam experienced through a heady fog of drugs.
These sessions were originally intended as part of a larger and more ambitious project, as Kansas City musician Ashley Miller hoped to record multiple bands for a planned compilation.  Unfortunately, the necessary funding for that endeavor did not materialize, but Expo Seventy managed to record before it dissolved.  Aside from Wright and Expo Seventy bassist Aaron Osborne, the line-up for this album is expanded with a couple of recurring Sonic Meditations artists from Sounding the Deep and Shroud of Winter (David Williams and Mike Vera).  Interestingly, I would have expected Wright to immediately exploit the vibrant polyrhythmic possibilities of a two-drummer band, but the first half of the album goes in a considerably more restrained (but no less effective) direction.  There is admittedly a bit more cymbal and tom activity than a lone drummer could deliver, but the rhythm section primarily just focuses on providing a slow, heavy, and viscerally deep groove to ground Wright’s smoldering, drone-damaged shredding.  Eventually, the drums in "First Movement" snowball into something a bit more rolling and propulsive, but Williams and Vera generally just hang back in the pocket to make room for Wright’s blurred and lysergic strain of rock guitar heroics.  The drums do get a bit wilder in the more drone-based "Second Movement" though, gradually building into a roiling eruption of tribal toms and splashes of cymbals.  At one point, the percussion even reaches an apocalyptic and punky crescendo, but it quickly simmers back down into a throbbing avant-blues pulse.
While I am definitely drawn to well-done guitar drone like the proverbial doomed moth, it is the more conventionally "rock" piece ("First Movement") that strikes me as most essential here.  There are obviously plenty of great psych-rock and stoner-metal bands out there, but I have not heard any that sound quite like prime Expo Seventy.  Whereas other bands are sludgy, indulgent, wildly explosive, or prone to improv-heavy freak-outs, "First Movement" embodies trance-like repetition, simplicity, and simmering restraint.  All of that is appealing enough on its own, but Wright also has a real talent for anthemic riffage, casually tossing off bitchin' hooks, moaning string-bends, and dual-guitar harmonies in a haze of delay and just letting them dissipate as he coolly moves onto his next idea.  Of course, Wright gets a hell of lot of help from the rest of the band, as his layered haze of druggy riffs would not be nearly as compelling without the density and momentum of the underlying groove.  While it is probably just as good, "Second Movement" is considerably less distinctive as an artistic vision, as Wright initially focuses his attention on a simple, gently throbbing synth drone.  It is damn hard to sound unique as a minimalist armed with a synthesizer.  If the piece continued exclusively in that vein, it would be little more than a competent retro/kosmiche pastiche, but it ultimately becomes a showcase for some wild dual-drummer pyrotechnics.  Thankfully, Wright does not completely fade into the background, as he colors the percussion explosion with some chirping synth flutters and some nicely roiling and groaning guitar noise. While it does not quite transcend feeling like a purely improvised jam session, the drumming is at least explosive enough to make it a compelling one.  Also, it may all just be an amusingly extended introduction to the throbbing and bluesy coda.  It is very hard to guess what was planned and what was not.
As I listened to America Here & Now Sessions for the first time, several successive thoughts flashed rapidly into my head.  The most immediate revelation was that "First Movement" was remarkably great, reminding me that I have been lax in my attention to Expo Seventy lately and have probably missed out on some similarly fine work.  Then I marveled at how cool and improbable it was that Wright was hard at work churning out experimental drone cassettes in Missouri instead of fronting a band like High on Fire.  It is all too easy to take an artist for granted when they have been around for a long time and seemingly have a new release every month.  Lastly, I reflected upon how wonderful it would be if Wright could actually keep a two-drummer band together long enough to write, rehearse, and record an absolutely killer studio album.  Sadly, I suspect Wright does not quite have a King Crimson-level budget, so there will probably not be any apocalyptic Mainliner-caliber opuses in his future.  I am certainly delighted that he got to record this though, as I like this direction quite a lot.
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Having been invited to perform at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN in Switzerland by one of the scientists, HNIA spent a year studying particle physics and then created Patterns of Light. The scientist, Dr. James Beacham, was asked to "fact-check for bad data, misquotes, dragons, pseudoscience and to make sure the witchcraft to physics ratio wouldn't be too embarrassing," he agreed and soon sent pages of notes, screenshots, event displays and also recommended books and videos.
Patterns of Light is the result of this exchange of information. The research focuses on dark matter, dark energy, the search for extra dimensions, mini-black holes and the machinery that collides particles at high speeds using thirteen teraelectronvolts but also studies the fundamental forces of nature as seen through the classic creation myths, the visionary theology of Hildegard Von Bingen, medieval manuscripts and cosmic maps, all in an effort to turn the physics back into poetry.
More information can be found here.
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https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1000942931/where-does-a-body-end-a-documentary-on-the-band-sw
