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The wait is over
After more than a month of moving, working, live events, and unpacking the studio is finally operational and the backlog of amazing music was huge. Four new episodes are available now.
Episode 796 features brand new music from Rare DM, Black Duck & Elena Setién, Ellen Allien, Helen Svoboda (feat. Selma Savolainen), J. Zunz, Naka Kirana, EXEK, Amedeo Cappelletti, Miracle, King Ayisoba, and Oren Ambarchi & Will Guthrie, plus a song from the vault by Portion Control.
Episode 797 has all new music from Sugar, Jules Reidy, Pleasure Coffin, Driftwood, Tokyo Bedroom Orchestra, M. Geddes Gengras, MONO, Lesley Mok, Orbit 17, and Infinity Machine, plus not so new music by Ayami Suzuki & Rob Noyes and The Fall.
Episode 798 contains exclusively new tunes from Ty Segall, The SPKtR, Topdown Dialectic, Locust, David Thrussell, Ivy Knight, John Also Bennett, Joseph Allred, Fundido feat. Emma Dufaux, and Tangerine Dream.
Episode 799 showcases new stuff by La Sécurité, Marie Delprat, Celestial Power, Patrick Belaga, Carl Gari (feat. dälek), Ava Rabiat, Alan & Jan, Kassel Jaeger, LBWL, and Emily A. Sprague, plus vintage (they're 20 years old yes) tunes of Monster Movie and, Mojave.
Special thanks to Fabien who supplied images for all of these episodes.
This pic is of Escobedo, Nuevo León (Mexico) at dusk.
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This deeply unconventional Montreal-based duo of poet Deanna Radford and sound artist Jeremy Young have been fitfully recording together since 2017, but this is their proper full-length debut. While I have been a fan of Young’s solo work and other projects for a while now, Cloud Circuit is a different animal altogether, as the duo seek to craft music inspired by “communication glitches and lost connections.” In more concrete terms, the pair’s aesthetic is centered around the processing and deconstruction of Radford’s spoken word performances while Young weaves surreal and textured backdrops from oscillators, radio transmissions, tapes, found sounds, and the occasional piano or organ. A number of eclectic Montreal luminaries (Sam Shalabi, Radwan Ghazi Moumneh, etc.) turn up to party as well, as does Sun Ra via his writings, but Radford and Young make quite a compelling team in their own, as this album hypnotically blurs the lines between spoken word, sound collage, and field recording in such innovative fashion that many of these pieces feel like actual songs with hooks despite lacking nearly all of the usual elements of traditional songcraft.
Watch That Ends The Night Records
The opening “An Introduction to Cloud Genera” provides an appropriately surreal and representative introduction to the Cloud Circuit vision, as Radford dispassionately muses on an array of cloud-related themes over a shuddering and undulating percussion loop and a shimmering haze of drones. As Radford notes, clouds are always evolving and the same is true of Cloud Circuit, as her voice gradually splits off into two channels that move about spatially and her words are umpredictably broken up into decontextualized sound fragments. On Young’s end, the underlying rumble gradually becomes more intense, crackling, and textured, which roughly mirrors the trajectory of Radford’s voice.
Newly issued on vinyl for the first time ever, Interstate was arguably both Monolake’s full-length debut and the only fully collaborative release from the original duo of Robert Henke and Gerhard Behles. While it has not yet become as revered as some of Monolake’s other early albums, the reasons for that are primarily due to context rather than quality, as its predecessor Hong Kong was a collection of the project’s killer run of singles of the iconic Chain Reaction label, which would be quite a tough act to follow under any circumstances (and this was definitely not the follow up that any Chain Reaction fans were expecting).
Field/Monolake
Interstate was also followed by quite a hot streak from the more conventionally beat-driven and Henke-centric iteration of the project, yet this album remains a very cool and unique outlier that lands quite a bit closer to cutting-edge sound design than it does to classic dub techno fare. In an oblique way, however, this short-lived incarnation of Monolake turned out to be even more influential than their beloved former label, as Henke and Behles spent much of the ‘90s co-creating the Ableton Live software together and Interstate is an eclectic (and electric) showcase of all of the wild and boldly futuristic new Max/MSP sound processing techniques that were about to rewire the electronic music world forever.
The latest solo album from this NY-based avant-crooner is an impressively wild evolution from his previous work, as Romance Wake Naming feels like a heartfelt yet feral homage to “the experimental and even hip-hop roots of industrial music.” Embracing “mangled breakbeats” and “cassette cut up experiments,” Trecka’s latest vision lands in fascinating and novel new terrain that lies somewhere between harrowing late-period Scott Walker and snarling and chaotic interpretations of New Romantic pop hits by a gaggle of insalubrious Wax Trax! miscreants like Revolting Cocks. Fittingly, one of those Cocks (Ministry’s Paul Barker) even makes a guest appearance, as does Meat Beat Manifesto (albeit in sampled form only). These songs can admittedly be quite a cacophonous and unstable concoction at times, but the best moments beautifully channel the raw and chaotic “anything goes” intensity of a great bygone era in underground music.
The opening “Rumors of Survival” provides a wonderfully churning and blown-out introduction to the album, as Trecka repurposes a mbira sample from the late Jamie Branch into a clattering, pulsing, and rhythmic ball of noise. That said, Trecka’s Scott Walker-esque vocals were admittedly a bit more of an acquired taste for me, as I have seen them previously described as “David Bowie at his most untamed,” which can be a somewhat jarring element in this particular context. I would personally go with “New Romantic vocalist with the intensity dialed up way too high to feel like pop anymore,” but I am mostly a fan, as the wailing and primal catharsis of those vocals are the heart of the album and they are also the thing that transforms these pieces into a raw, direct, and unique artistic statement rather than just a mere homage to some cool ‘80s industrial artists. Also, I would be remiss if I did not mention that Trecka is generally quite a cool and adventurous vocal artist, as his frayed and howling melodies are ingeniously enhanced with a vibrant host of cut-up and swooping samples and layers.
This latest release from NY-based saxophonist/composer Bertucci continues her bold expansion into improbable and adventurous new territory, as it is a commissioned collaboration with German flutist Norbert Rodenkirchen. The two artists first met back in 2019 after a performance by Rodenkirchen’s early music ensemble Sequentia and Bertucci was immediately fascinated by both Rodenkirchen’s collection of ancient flutes and all of the folklore and tuning/notation challenges inherent in recreating Medieval music. When Bertucci landed the opportunity to record at The ZKM Center for Art and Media in Karlsruhe back in 2023, the stars were finally in perfect alignment for the two artists to collaborate on something special and unique that inventively blurs the lines between past and future. The resultant work is something of a shapeshifting beast that has morphed from an eight channel spatialized live performance to an infinite durational installation to a 34-minute stereo album. To my ears, there is probably nothing else on earth quite like it, but it falls in roughly the same avant-garde ballpark as Maryanne Amacher, Phill Niblock, and Catherine Christer Hennix.
The album borrows its title from a quote by a former Carthusian monk explaining why the monastery’s Chartreuse production was decreased (despite high demand) during the pandemic to allow the monks more time for their spiritual concerns. It is a perfect title, as one of Rodenkirchen’s flutes is a replica of a vulture bone flute that dates from as far back as 37,000 years ago and the duo’s Pythagorean tunings date back to Ancient Mesopotamia circa 600 BC and are based on the mathematics of the natural world. Much like the monks, Bertucci and Rodenkirchen see the current age of “scorched earth capitalism” as an ephemeral chapter in a story that spans millenia and predates America, Christianity, capitalism, electricity, and Western turning systems. Then again, maybe it won’t be ephemeral in the way that I hope, as Bertucci seems particularly fascinated with the more apocalyptically inspired strains of early music and notes that experiencing a total solar eclipse made her feel “connected to the experience of my ancestors from ages ago, of a primeval confusion, sense of humility and wonderment at the awesome power of the skies.” It is probably safe to say that this album is her valiant attempt to re-capture that singular feeling.
This is the second full-length that Carla Dal Forno has released since returning to her native Australia and those sunnier environs continue to have a welcome warming effect on her songwriting. She has also grown considerably more eclectic and inspired in both her instrumentation and her assimilation of fresh influences over the last few years while her songwriting talents have sharpened significantly, as this “album of quiet upheaval” is a hook-packed, intimate, and refreshingly sincere collection of would-be indie pop hits about heartache, yearning, desire, and every other deep human emotion that matters. In that regard, Confession is a significant leap forward, but Dal Forno is otherwise still the same bass-wielding post-punk chanteuse as ever.
Amusingly, I noticed the other day that Dal Forno self-described her early Berlin work as “lone kosmische misanthropy,” which is quite a far cry from her current stripped-down and bass-driven Young Marble Giants-style indie pop vision. The interesting bit is that Dal Forno’s radical stylistic transformation happened without her making any major foundational changes to the essence of her sound: ten years after “Fast Moving Cars,” she is still essentially making bedroom pop magic from little more than a bass, a drum machine, and some honest and introspective musings about life, heartache, and relationships. The only thing that truly changed is that she gradually cleared away all the murk, gloom, reverb, and rigidity to let in some welcome light, space, warmth, fun, and leftfield inspiration. In short, she focused entirely on being real, human, and direct and jettisoned everything that diluted or blunted those aspects. There is one semi-throwback to Dal Forno’s Blackest Ever Black past, however, as the rubbery slow-motion stomp of “Nighttime” feels like it should have been THE shadowy, bloodless Berlin party anthem of 2016.
As evidenced by the many intimate and autobiographical passages about self-doubt, numbness, and creative frustration it contains, this latest album from James was “forged from the fire of internal struggles.” Fortunately, all that inner turmoil ultimately resulted in an absolutely killer album that feels like a massive artistic breakthrough, so I guess it was all worth it (though James herself may strongly feel otherwise). The catalyst for James’ reinvention unexpectedly came from her work producing Anysia Kym’s Confession EP, which “gave her the experience of a more 'pop' setting and the tools and insight to work her instrumentals into more conventional shapes.” The ingenious bit is that James’ new embrace of pop-inspired song structures provides an accessible shape to some very ambitious, radical, and non-pop enhancements in her production techniques and beat crafting skills. The final piece of the puzzle is that James tagged in a host of eclectic guest vocalists who seemed to know exactly what was needed to transform her stuttering, blurred, and shapeshifting instrumental tracks into sensuous, hook-packed left-field pop magic.
The most unexpected of the many guest vocal performances is unquestionably Low’s Alan Sparhawk, who urges everyone to make love (rather than war) over a backdrop of gently rolling rock drums and bleary electric piano. To his credit, Sparhawk makes a surprisingly credible soul vocalist in this unfamiliar context, but “Peak Again” is definitely an outlier for a whole host of reasons. On the considerably more outré side of the spectrum is the Miho Hatori-featuring “Flatline,” as Hatari sensuously sings in both Japanese and English over pitch-bent synth chords and a skittering, convulsive, and glitch-ravaged groove. The straight-up hip-hop of “Ending Us All” is another wild detour, as Le3 bLACK raps over lo-fi smeary synths and some killer live drumming from Fyn Dobson. Elsewhere, Anysia Kym takes the mic for the album’s hottest would-be single, as “Score” is a perfect marriage of intimately underproduced vocals, jazzy electric piano chords, gently trippy flutes, and squelchy futuristic percussion. Tirzah contributes a simmering and seductive gem as well, as “Habits and Patterns,” beautifully blends hushed and melancholy heartache with invasively destabilizing and jackhammering loop spasms.
This latest full-length from guitar visionary Sarah Lipstate is a bit of an inspired outlier, as she has expanded Noveller’s usual guitar-centric palette to include a baby grand piano, percussion instruments, and an impressively Lynchian guest vocal performance from her occasional bandmate Iggy Pop. I suspect that such evolution was inevitable, however, as Lipstate now has a new studio and has been landing some relatively high-profile soundtrack work since moving from Brooklyn to LA in 2020. Naturally, the demands of commissioned work would certainly influence her working methods and inspire some new techniques and textures. In another way, however, I Am The Weather can be seen as a return to Lipstate’s roots as well, as she spent years learning classical piano before she reinvented herself as a self-taught guitarist at age 17. As is often the case with bold creative evolutions, there are admittedly a few growing pains and missteps lurking among these nine pieces, but the bigger story is that such moments are interspersed with a few of the most beautiful pieces that Lipstate has ever recorded.
The most immediately striking piece on the album is unsurprisingly the lead single “The Girl Who Was Death,” as Iggy Pop’s unsettling and gravel-voiced monologue unfolds over a shapeshifting and increasingly howling, fragmented, and nightmarish backdrop. While this is the first time that the two artists have worked together on a Noveller piece, their collaborative relationship first began back in 2019 with a spoken word performance of Dylan Thomas’s "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" that landed on Pop’s Free album. Unsurprisingly, there is a cool riff at the heart of the piece and Pop has some great lines, but the more impressive achievement is that “The Girl Who Was Death” feels plucked from an imagined/non-existent episode of Twin Peaks. While it is undeniably cool and attention-grabbing, that outlier is a bit too brief and Iggy Pop-centered to quite capture Lipstate at the full height of her powers. Fortunately, there is quite an impressive run of mid-album pieces that swing the balance in the other direction.
Previously a digital-only release as part of Francisco López's Two-Headed Snake series of collaborations, this split release between him and equally legendary composer Éric La Casa features the two working independently, but from shared source material. What exactly that source material is never becomes entirely clear, but it gives a consistency between two very different, amazing works.
The source material specified is just 11 years of "objects and spaces," so any clear identification beyond what occasionally sounds like field recordings is pretty much impossible. Certain characteristics of sound appear clearly throughout both artists' compositions but utilized in noticeably different ways.
This latest album from Sublime Frequencies co-founder and Cairo-based expat Alan Bishop’s long-running and eclectic solo project is a bit of a pleasant surprise, as he enlisted an absolute murderers’ row of talented collaborators to record a collection of mostly original new instrumental pieces. Notably, the album is billed as “drifting closer” to late-period Sun City Girls albums like Funeral Mariachi, but that kinship is mostly true in a general sense rather than a stylistic one, as Malarial Dream is unusually lean on covers and often feels like the work of a formidable full band. It also mirrors Funeral Mariachi in its comparative listenability, as both Bishop’s solo career and Sun City Girls have their share of prickly indulgences and eccentricities. Obviously, Bishop remains the same idiosyncratic chaos element as always, but Malarial Dream places him at the center of a collection of Middle Eastern-inspired desert-psych jams recorded with an incredible international cast of killer improvisors.
Abduction
The album opens with the short and punchy “Rock N’ Roll,” which is evidently one of the album’s two “obscure covers,” as Bishop’s Dwarfs of East Agouza bandmate Sam Shalabi is credited as the composer. He also happens to be the one rockin’ the oud in the thorny and droning central riff, but the album’s strongest moments tend to be the less muscular and rock-inspired pieces that follow. In “The Multiple Hallucinations of an Assassin - Part 2,” for example, Bishop and Huda Asfour trade acoustic guitar and lap harp motifs over a pleasantly rolling percussion rhythm and a gently flanging synth drone. Amusingly, Part 2 bears little resemblance at all to the version that appeared on Sun City Girls’ Bright Surroundings, anyone who has been feverishly waiting three decades for its sequel to appear will likely experience some rough cognitive dissonance.
This first meeting between NYC-based composer/conceptual artist Branciforte and Belgian jazz pianist Dumoulin is an impressively ambitious and mindbending “musical dialogue” recorded over the span of two days. Both artists played separate Fender Rhodes electric pianos with their “own array of processing and effects” while Branciforte further spiced up their interaction with “a custom live editing system designed to process both musicians' outputs in real time.” The physical album is similarly unusual, as Branciforte describes it as a “multi-disc object” that divides these eight pieces into four 3” CDs that can be played in varying sequences (along with one normal-sized disc that contains the full 70-minute album in its entirety). I can certainly understand why Branciforte decided to go big with the packaging, as ITERAE is an absolutely mesmerizing and landmark release that beautifully blurs the lines between classic Oval-style glitchery, psychotropic Bitches Brew-style dark magic, and the lingering otherworldly dissonances of a great Morton Feldman piece.
As Branciforte describes it, ITERAE’s “eight modular sections hover between form and abstraction, precise sonic architecture and dream-like flow,” but a more reductionist and concise term like “ambient-adjacent” would probably suffice as well, as there are a lot of flickering and dreamlike drones at that heart of this release. That said, these pieces are considerably more harmonically complex and subtly dissonant than actual ambient music.
This long-running solo project from Posh Isolation co-founder Christian Stadsgaard has gradually evolved from its modest minimal techno beginnings into a vision that inventively blurs the lines between harsh noise, ambient, and contemporary classical. While he has certainly kept one foot firmly rooted in the noise scene with collaborative releases with Merzbow, Evil Moisture, and Government Alpha, the overall arc of the project has mostly been towards striking the perfect balance between beauty and violence. His most notable success in that regard before now was probably the static-gnawed ambiance of 2024’s The Night Has Passed Already, but The Vanity Project feels like another big creative breakthrough, as the more beautiful elements have a more timeless/sacred feel this time around that puts some significant distance between Stadsgaard and his peers in the contemporary ambient milieu. Also, both Merzbow and Government Alpha turn up to help ensure that Vanity Productions’ sharper edges remain every bit as visceral and snarling as ever.
The opening “Hoarfrost” provides an especially haunting and sublime introduction to the album, as a brief haze of whines and brittle piano fragments unexpectedly blossoms into lush organ drones that subtly warble and shimmer in pleasantly trippy ways. It gets even better from there, however, as a looping two-note “dial tone” melody fades in to provide a haunting, unconventional, and short-lived melodic hook before the piece evolves into a killer final stretch that sounds like a warmly beautiful organ mass with a seething and enigmatic undercurrent of tape loop noise squall.
