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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»sleepstep« is the first collaboration between raster-noton and dasha rush. the record's subtitle »sonar poems for my sleepless friends« describes its underlying concept – »sleepstep« is a trip through electronically alienated micro-compositions and sound collages that, interwoven with text passages, aim at creating a dream-like atmosphere.
the stations of this journey are striving for oblivion of time, an immersion, a drifting in universal states – death, life, birth, grief, desire. the titles often appear to be raw sketches, fugitive, surreal short stories that rather want to break open than execute.
the musical arrangement, in this context, can be described as rather subtle and fragile. though electronically manipulated, no production technique is pushing itself to the fore. and though clichés are not dreaded, »sleepstep«, as a result, stays away from being cliché. the sonar poems for her sleepless friends are feminine, subtle and personal reports. a musical dream journey in the form of a classical concept record – an album that also stands in the tradition of ambient music.
dasha rush is already known as a techno dj and producer. here on »sleepstep«, she celebrates her alter ego. the cd version comes with a 32-pages booklet that also shows her photographic interest and includes the aforementioned poems written by her.
more information can be found here.
It has been seven years since Audika last issued an album of Arthur Russell material. The wait ends this summer with Corn, nine tracks Russell recorded in 1982 and 1983. In collaboration with Russell’s partner Tom Lee, Audika’s Steve Knutson compiled Corn from Arthur’s original, completed 1/4” tape masters. Russell himself compiled this material on three separate test pressings—labeled El Dinosaur, Indian Ocean, and Untitled, respectively— in 1985.
Russell fans know something of the Corn sound from Audika’s debut release, Calling Out of Context (2004), which included four songs from these sessions: "The Deer In The Forest Part 1," "The Platform on the Ocean," "Calling Out Of Context," and "I Like You!"
This new collection includes rhythmic alternate versions of "Lucky Cloud," "Keeping Up," "See My Brother, He's Jumping Out (Let's Go Swimming #2)," "This Is How We Walk on the Moon," and "Hiding Your Present From You," along with "Corn," "Corn (Continued)," "They and Their Friends," and the closing instrumental "Ocean Movie," one of the most beautiful and curious Russell tracks ever to see the light of day.
With Corn, Audika reveals yet another side of Russell’s staggeringly diverse artistry, following the avant-electrodisco of Calling Out Of Context, and its companion EP, Springfield; the orchestral works "Instrumentals" and "Tower Of Meaning,” compiled and released as First Thought Best Thought; the "Buddhist Bubble Gum Pop" collected on Love Is Overtaking Me; and Russell’s definitive solo masterpiece, World Of Echo.
TRACK LISTING - ALL VERSIONS PREVIOUSLY UNRELEASED:
I think I can safely guarantee that no one familiar with Ren Schofield’s work has ever wondered what a new Container album might sound like, nor have they likely exhausted much time wondering about what its title would be: LP is yet another dose of no-frills, bludgeoning, percussive, and noise-damaged anti-dance.  The only real change is Schofield has become a bit more skilled, a bit wilder, and a lot more aggressive since his last album.  Part of me admittedly misses the more "human"-speed, mid-tempo grooves of past Container albums, but LP is probably Ren’s best work in this vein by a landslide, as he has trimmed down his song lengths and dramatically ratcheted up his visceral intensity.  This is an absolutely bulldozing album.
For a former noise artist, Schofield has very unusual approach to his strain of noise-damaged dance music.  For one, it is not particularly noisy: the 7 pieces on LP are certainly unmelodic and corroded-sounding, but Ren tends to conjure up his chaos in quite a controlled way.  There are no blasts of white noise or electronic entropy, just a lot of meticulously crafted grooves enhanced by some very blown-out textures and plenty of machine-like, relentlessly inhuman repetition.  Equally noteworthy is the fact that Schofield seems to be quite an astute student of techno rather than any kind of dabbler, as he rarely even nods towards simple house beats and unwaveringly manipulates the dynamics of his grooves like a damn wizard: elements are constantly and systematically added and subtracted in service of maximizing impact at all times.  Ren never lazily rides a groove.  Once in a while, he might slow down or get a bit quieter, but it is always to either make space for a cool motif or to set the stage for the next onslaught.
Aside from those few pieces that slow down enough to lock into satisfying head-bobbing grooves and give Ren room to unleash his fine arsenal of squawks, whines, crackles, and grinding noise textures, the bulk of LP careens along at a breakneck pace.  He definitely seems to relish maintaining a pace that is just a little too fast and much too manic to fully resemble music intended for human dancing.  That impish propensity is what makes LP so compelling for me, as Schofield has found a way to make the beats themselves feel like an assault without resorting to brute force or hackneyed industrial tropes.  These pieces are certainly propulsive and fun, but they are also a bit too deranged and relentless to elicit anything resembling a "good time" vibe.  That, of course, makes it even more fun for me.  Apparently, this album is the one most closely resembles a Container live show, which makes me desperately want to seek one out: Schofield has ingeniously staked out the perfect blend of "I came to get this party started" and "I came to end this party and possibly destroy the building."
Choosing a highlight is hard, as each of these pieces is very much cut from the same cloth and strong hooks are simply not a part of Ren's agenda: he just locks into a groove, kicks ass, and then moves onto the next song long before he overstays his welcome.  LP is just 7 flavors of streamlined, dynamic, and perfectly chiseled pummeling.  If I had to pick, however, I would say that the stumbling, mid-tempo "Calibrate" locks into an especially satisfying locked-groove-style beat.  Another strong moment is the album's "single": the throbbing, skittering, and out-of-control "Eject."  The whole album is quite solid and utterly devoid of anything resembling filler or a misstep, however.  If LP can be said to have a flaw, it is only that Container's niche is an incredibly specific and limited one.  Schofield definitely makes the most of those rigid constraints though–I cannot think of a single aspect of LP that possibly could have been better executed.
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Ramiro Jeancarlo's solo project has only been active for a few years, but with these releases the Miami artist has refined his own insular version of electronic music with the assistance of a sprawling vintage synth collection. This album captures his two primary styles: weird electronic experiments and catchy, song-like pop outings. Even though the overall feel may be different, Jeancarlo manages to tie them together to result in a diverse, yet unified sounding album.
In general, the first half of El Mago En Ti is where the abstract and more disjointed synth experiments happen.The opening of "Drowning Feathers" keeps time with snappy, sparse percussion and sweeping keyboards, but the overall sound is sad and desolate, with the nearly indecipherable vocals adding to this sense of seclusion.Jeancarlo slowly adds more and more to the mix to flesh it out, but it retains its cold, disoriented feel to it.Comparatively, "Spherical Aberration" has a doomier, more dissonant sense throughout.With an isolated and uncomfortable sounding vocal performance, the piece is largely dominated by a menacing, bass heavy electronic sound that gives a distinct rawness.
The B side of the record is where the more conventional sounding compositions are placed."Addiction" may have a thin rhythm track and simple bassline, but with the addition of vocals and a shimmering synth melody, it results in a piece that sounds more like a conventional song than an electronic experiment."Anima Sola" is also driven by a more up-tempo drum machine, and focused largely on a noisy, buzzing analog synth pattern.It is still dark and depressive overall, but the result is more easily latched on to because of the sense of composition.
The second half may be overall somewhat more musical, Jeancarlo still sneaks in an obtuse moment with "Fistful Questioning."There is a loose sense of organization, but the focus is largely on rapid skittering and pulsing synthesizers.Considering the overall mix of the piece is a bit strange as well, it stands out strangely as a throwback to the first half of the record.He closes the album with "La Gran Evasion," the closest he manages to come to traditional electronic music.An instrumental work with more conventional rhythm sequences and a ghostly synth lead, it is an extremely strong, if slightly repetitive (like most dance music) way to end a superlative album.
With a nice balance between experimental miniatures on one half and conventional songs on the other (and an appropriate amount of crossover), El Mago En Ti is a strong piece of eclectic electronic music.With just enough hooks to grab my pop loving side, but a wide berth of experimentation and eccentric sounds, the stylistic balance is very strong and pulls the record together extremely well.
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Florida is not known for hosting a secret enclave of synth bands, but this split cassette tape indicates that there are at least a few projects hiding amongst the tourist traps and meth labs. Burnt Hair and Ars Phoenix both work with similar instrumentation but the final product differ drastically between the two. The latter makes for catchy, if a bit bleak, pop songs while the former is depressive, bedroom electronics, resulting in a wonderful combination of similarities and differences.
Being a former resident of the state, these two artists have a sound that suits their geographic locations within Florida.Burnt Hair, from the larger and more inland city of Jacksonville, has a fittingly isolated and lonely sensibility to it.A larger city where the metropolitan and redneck meet is sure to be despairing for any artist.Conversely, Ars Phoenix hails from the east coast of Vero Beach, and their more pop-oriented sound fits the fun and tourist-y feel, at least superficially.But, just like the region itself, there is a distinct darkness that lurks behind the sunny melodies and memorable choruses.
The four songs on Burnt Hair's half of the tape are largely characterized by sparse, dour synthesizer passages and muffled vocals that sound like they were recorded from a closet on the other side of the studio."Tired Fingers Slip" exemplifies this, with the addition of a basic drum program that gives it a lurching sense of rhythm while still retaining an icy character.On "Stems" the duo of Matthew and Trenton Tarpits put a bit more emphasis on the programmed rhythms and a utilize a simple toy piano like melody that goes along way in its frigid, basic structure.The closing "Left to Chance" is the only time that the sound takes on a less depressive character.It may only be in relative terms, but the more pronounced drum machine and louder vocals, combined with the noisier keyboard passages result in a more aggressive, standout piece.
Ars Phoenix, for their four songs, continue to build upon the dark, yet engaging synth pop style they demonstrated heavily on their recent Violet Rain album.The fast pace of "Desiccation" contrasts BH's half of the tape, and while the vocals are echo-laden here as well, they are much more discernible and the duet vocals of Jon Glover andCaitlin Ollinger are just as memorable here as they were on the last album."Beckett’s Row" takes on a slower pace, but with the song’s up front vocals and expansive melodies it results in a very memorable composition.For "Minister Edwards," what sounds like a guitar becomes one of the central instruments, providing an excellent melodic lead and, with its liberal use of reverb, takes on a bit of a shoegaze quality.
The two halves of Shinju may differ in style, but pairing these two artists together makes for a diverse, yet still overall somber release.Burnt Hair's depressive bedroom synth sound hits the spot perfectly on those gray, overcast days, and like their previous album, Ars Phoenix's melodic and catchy sound continues to keep my attention, while still maintaining a sinister undercurrent that gives it significant depth.It may be a bit bipolar, but it is an excellent split tape.
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Bliscord is the official new project from former Light Asylum synth virtuoso, Bruno Coviello. Check out the new music video for "Ready 2 Burn" featuring vocals by Michael Beharie. The video was directed & edited by Daniel McKernan incorporating hand-processing techniques of direct filmmaking with 16mm found footage from a tutorial on what children should do: "In Case of Fire." The track is slated for release on Formlessness Press, details TBA.
DAVID SHEA
PRISONER
LABEL ROOM40
CAT # DRM431
FORMAT DIGITAL
RELEASE DATE 30 MAY 2015
STREAM (#2 + #3)
ARTIST ESSAY
STORE
ARTIST CHIHEI HATAKEYAMA
TITLE MOON LIGHT REFLECTING OVER MOUNTAINS
LABEL ROOM40
CAT # RM465
FORMAT CD/DIGITAL
RELEASE DATE 30 MAY 2015
VIDEO (Prince Of The Sea)
AUDIO (Prince Of The Sea)
STORE
Last year's A Unity of Miseries-A Misery of Unities grabbed me quickly and became one of my absolute favorite albums that came out in 2014. The songs that were re-recorded from their demo tape were excellent, and the new compositions that premiered on that record were even stronger. So of course I had high hopes for the Susan Subtract and Greg Vand's sophomore record, and I am not at all disappointed. Strong beats, glorious pawnshop synth sounds and memorable songwriting come together brilliantly on Definite Structures.
Quirky is not usually a term I associate with music in a good way, but honestly it is the best way to describe HFF.Too often quirky is a transparent attempt to be weird or random as an attention-seeking gimmick for bands that lack skill and/or talent.This duo's weirdness seems completely natural and unforced, however, and is simply another asset that helps them to stand out singularly in a world of imitators.Even as part of the big three LA bands leading the outsider EBM scene they are the odd ones out:Youth Code do the tattooed hardcore punk thing, Pure Ground have their wasteland dystopia vibe going, but HFF are the strange children of the '80s, doing their own thing and loving it.
In the year since their debut album came out, they have already made strides as far as cultivating their identity and sounding more self assured.While there are a litany of bands that could correctly or incorrectly be cited as influences on their sound, never do they sound like anyone else in particular.Via their unpopular Ensoniq synth fetishism and low fidelity samples, they have created their own sound and push it amazingly.
A defining feature of Definite Structures is that it hardly relents at all:all nine songs are pounding drums, jagged digital synthesizers and Subtract’s snarling punk yell.The closest thing to an introspective moment is the album opening "Hunger Cries."With the BPM turned down a bit and a slightly more restrained vocal performance, it takes on a nice chiming synth pop feel.All I could picture is the awkward, black veiled '80s goth kids dancing (awkwardly) at some weird prom in a John Hughes movie that was never made."Grey Scent" is only a bit less forceful than much of the album because of the calmer vocals and monotone half of its catchy chorus.
That is one of the other most striking facets of this album:simply how catchy the songs are.The first album showed a marked improvement between the songs from their demo compared to the ones recorded for that album, and this one is a similar jump.The duo's songwriting ability was never lacking, but they manage to create such memorable choruses and melodies.
Aggressive, dance floor packing rhythms and bass lines are what this album is all about though."Confuse the Call" appears here in a different mix than on the Strategies Against the Body compilation earlier this year, stripped down and with the emphasis placed on the drums and vocals, it hits even harder."Lattice of Coincidence" is especially memorable in the duo's pairing of a martial, aggressive bassline and a lighter, almost regal synth melodies, blending perfectly into its vocal-centric chorus.On "The Plunge" a similar mix of jagged synth pads and insistent scatter-shot drum programming contrasts excellently, propelled by Subtract's dry throated aggro screams and sputtering samples of unknown origin.
On an album packed with great songs, "Afterbirth" may be the one that stands out as its centerpiece.Underscored by a pummeling 4/4 kick drum, surrounded by more complex rhythms, the song has an undeniable stomping energy amplified by the aggressive vocals and strong chorus.It is one of those songs that are just completely infectious, and as soon as it kicks in I cannot help but give it my full attention.
One of this duo's biggest assets is that there is a sense of fun spread throughout their music.Not that it is a joke or that they do not take their art seriously, but more that they are not trying to exorcise personal demons or push some sort of political agenda (at least obviously).No, they want to dance, and they want the people who listen to the record to do the same.Plus there seems to be an understated tongue-in-cheekiness to their approach, much like Front 242 had but not quite as subtle.A sense of self-awareness in a genre that is heavily polarized between stone-faced seriousness or childish novelty acts.
There is nothing especially innovative or daring with Definite Structures, but there is not supposed to be. Like their previous album, it is a collection of nine pounding songs and catchy melodies that are just as appropriate for dancing as listening, thank to their undeniable earworm qualities.There might not be any significantly challenging moments to be heard, but the infectious melodies and memorable choruses make all of that moot anyway.As it was last year, there is another High-Functioning Flesh record that is likely to place extremely high on my favorite releases of the year list.
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Andrew Hock has carved out a niche for himself as a guitarist for bands including Psalm Zero and the recently deceased Castevet, but this makes for his first truly solo release. Crystalline Privative Opulence, featuring additional wind instrumentation by Jeremiah Cymerman and Davindar Singh, showcases his skill with a guitar as well as electronics but more so his sense of composition amongst these two side-long songs.
The first of the two untitled compositions begins quite simply, with melodic, basic guitar strums filling the air.It is sparse and clean, and he slowly expands the sound.The melancholy, yet pure guitar sound continues for a while before being quickly mixed with a quieter, but more dissonant and messy backing loop of processed guitar.At first the melodic sound continues, but then it is pulled down into the noisy mire of distortion and loops.
What first began as gentle chiming guitar soon becomes a din of harshness and chaos that is all engulfing.Hock begins to emphasize the electronics above all else, resulting in a piece that is much more violent than it began.Full on horror movie shrieks and bizarre warbling noises become the standard, and even what sounds like a swarm of killer bees are introduced to further conjure terror.
The piece on the other side of the tape is less oppressive or menacing in comparison.While the guitar was the predominant theme on the first half, here the focus is on ominous and distant electronics.Woodwinds generate deep foghorn tones expanding through the mist.Hock fleshes out the open, foggy space by reintroducing his guitar to the mix, clean and melodic strumming that contrasts the droning background exceptionally well.In a mirroring of the way the first piece was constructed, the electronics give way here for the elegant guitar work to take the focus.Eventually he introduces a second guitar line, with just enough distortion and effects to make for a great contrast to the otherwise pristine sound before ending with what sounds like a bass guitar passage.
Guitar and electronics are the primary sounds throughout Crystalline Privative Opulence, but it is the way Hock (and his two collaborators) put these sounds together that makes this tape memorable.The slow building of the compositions, as well as the deliberate shifts between electronics and guitar keep the sound intriguing.Texture and melody meld together wonderfully, resulting in two pieces that shift and evolve wonderfully on his first solo work.
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Two of the three songs that comprise Fraufraulein's Extinguishment start with a single foundational sound. On "Whalebone in a Treeless Landscape," it is Anne Guthrie’s French horn that initiates the performance. Dripping water and the ring of a large, resonant metallophone follow immediately after. "My Left Hand, Your Right Hand" commences with a solitary, almost piercing electronic pitch, like an emergency broadcast signal stuck on a single wavering tone. After a few seconds, it is joined by an echoey snap, a distant singing voice, and the booming of a bass drum or a floor tom. They are both deceptively simple beginnings, richer in content and potential than their starkness implies. Billy Gomberg and Anne Guthrie treat them like seeds from which to grow and prune their compositions. They blend field recordings, of rain and a patriotic Norwegian parade for example, with scrapyard detritus, pair foghorn drones with the bristly friction of surface noise, and balance the eerie ambience of humming wires against a distorted monastic chant, all while maintaining a delicate connection with those first embryonic moments. The way they achieve that consonance and balance—between the acoustic and electronic instruments and in the structures of the songs themselves—defines the album.
Extinguishment’s macrocosmic inclination is set down during the course of its opening piece, "Convention of Moss." Like the songs that follow, it is cobbled together from a combination of prerecorded audio and live instrumentation. Differentiating between live and prerecorded can be tricky, however. In concert, Anne and Billy play French horn and bass guitar respectively and use various digital methods to record and manipulate their own sounds on the fly. Thus, the white noise generated by blowing through a detached valve becomes a loop-able and transformable sample.
Watching it happen in real time makes following the aural lineage of different passages easier, but on record there can be no such discernment. Without a visual aid, the entire album, from the perspective of the listener at home, sounds as if it could be a series of prerecorded tapes arranged with a computer. On the other hand, it is possible that much of what seems digitally achieved is actually the product of an extended technique utilized inside the studio, like drawing corrugated wire across the bell of the French horn. There is simply no way to tell. Confusion like this renders the music’s canvas more absorbent, and new and unexpected elements enter the fray with the same ease and acceptance as a loud guitar solo entering a rock ‘n’ roll song. That is a feature in a lot of improvised electronic music, but Gomberg and Guthrie handle it gracefully and add something of their own to the equation, namely the derivation of structure and development from tone color and melody.
As wide open as Extinguishment is with respect to material, purpose and control still subsists in the duo’s dedication to form and spaciousness. After establishing a core sound or a core melody, Anne and Billy toy with it, adding harmonious elements to emphasize some of its features and introducing discord for the sake of contrast and equilibrium. Reshaping, repurposing, and reimagining those musical events is the secret logic behind each song, something that is made perfectly clear on "My Left Hand, Your Right Hand." The title hints at the way in which Gomberg and Guthrie mirror each other and the contents of their field recordings. The song’s opening high tone is first blended into, then replaced by a droning vocal melody. Next comes a French horn and voice duet, a high resonant whistle, and eventually an undulating pitch that could be either synthetic or acoustic. Each figure mimics the last one, maintaining some semblance of identity with what has passed while at the same time pushing the performance forward. At times, the field recordings seem to be in tune with the instruments and the electronics too, resonating at the same frequency or within the same key even when they are quiet or empty (think of the harmonic resonance of Alvin Lucier’s I Am Sitting in a Room).
All of this gives the music a tangible three dimensional quality. Anne Guthrie and Billy Gomberg connect the world outside to the world of music in a way that must by now be familiar, but they do an exceptional job of it, utilizing their tools and techniques to magnify apparently simple musical elements (and non-musical ones, too, if that distinction still holds) to the size of universes.
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