Episode 721 features Throwing Muses, Eros, claire rousay, Moin, Zachary Paul, Voice Actor and Squu, Leya, Venediktos Tempelboom, Cybotron, Robin Rimbaud and Michael Wells, Man or Astro-Man?, and Aisha Vaughan.
Episode 722 has James Blackshaw, FACS, Laibach, La Securite, Good Sad Happy Bad, Eramus Hall, Nonconnah, The Rollies, Jabu, Freckle, Evan Chapman, diane barbe, Tuxedomoon, and Mark McGuire.
Wine in Paris photo by Mathieu.
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Gorgeous electronic collaboration between Jacob Kirkegaard and Else Marie Pade. Urgent CD reissue of the sold out LP edition. This CD includes a beautiful 15 minute bonus track not included on the LP release.
Else Marie Pade (born December 2, 1924 in Aarhus) is a Danish composer who pioneered electronic and concrete music in Denmark beginning in 1954. Pade was active in the resistance movement during the Second World War, and was interned at the Frøslev prison camp from 1944 till the end of the war. An archival collection of Else Marie Pade's electronic work is now available on Important Records.
Danish artist Jacob Kirkegaard's works are focused on scientific and aesthetic aspects of sonic perception. He explores acoustic spaces and phenomena that usually remain imperceptible to the immediate ear. Kirkegaard's installations, compositions & photographs are created from within a variety of environments such as subterranean geyser vibrations, empty rooms in Chernobyl, a rotating TV tower, and even sounds from the human inner ear itself.
Based in Berlin, Germany, Kirkegaard is a graduate of the Academy for Media Arts in Cologne. Since 1995, Kirkegaard has presented his works at galleries, museums, venues & conferences throughout the world. His sound works are primarily released by the British record label Touch and he is a member of the sound art collective freq_out.
"For all the scientific rigour to Kirkegaard's research into the sonic possibilities of various materials, his work reveals an underlying fascination for the mysteries and myths embedded in them. His work channels an access to an inner world." Anne Hilde Neset, The Wire, 07/09
Despite an age difference of 51 years, Else Marie Pade and Jacob Kirkegaard speak a similar musical language and are prominent listeners and communicators of sounds that we tend to overhear. For the first time these two pioneers are collaborating on a new work: SVÆVNINGER investigates the variations that one can hear when sound waves collide. Both artists have previously worked on this phenomenon; Jacob Kirkegaard in his work Labyrinthitis (2007) and Else Marie Pade in her work "Faust Suite" (1962). For their new joint piece SVÆVINGER, they remixed some of Pade's early (and hitherto unreleased) sound experiments with some of Kirkegaard's recordings from his own ear, thus leading the audience straight into the undiscovered labyrinths of their own hearing.
White Lights of Divine Darkness (for Sir John Tavener) 7:34
"By chance I composed this for my brother-in-law the day he passed away. In recent years he had seen the white lights of heavens gate, but returned, and became fascinated by what he called God’s divine darkness in this lifetime."
Unfolding Honey 6:06
"A track from my exhibition soundtrack 'Future Beauty, 30 years of Japanese fashion' held at The Barbican Gallery, London. The exhibition featured some amazing folded garments by Issey Miyake, that inspired the unfurling fabric feeling of the composition."
Luxury 3:00
"An orchestral drone piece featuring an old French lady singing to her cats with an extra celestial chorus."
Skyline Ascending 3:28
"A Carpenters LP piano loop is layered again and again over a high sky recording, which was recorded using a helium balloon floating in the clouds over the city, with raindrops."
Coda (for Sir John Dankworth) 5:00
"In my early teens, I used to attend week long music camps, in tents, within the grounds of Sir John Dankworth's home with Cleo Laine. I used to know them, and composed this piece with one of their vinyls on the day I heard he died. The installation premiered at the Sydney Cooper Gallery in Canterbury, broadcasting a 3-channel version to six '50s radios."
The City of Dreams 8:28
"Theme tune for the opening of 'The Mill: City of Dreams' a site-specific theatre production in a deserted mill in Bradford. Piano motif recorded live with my twin-arm turntable, additional overlays recorded with Mark Robinson on his old family piano."
Beyond 6:30
"The Carpenters return, sliding piano loops through recordings made in Grand Central Station at closing time when the vast hall was deserted, and the full majesty of the acoustic space could be appreciated. Stilettos pass by forming polyrhythms, as the last train announces its departure..."
"Over the years, I have produced a number of works in praise of the ideas of J.G Ballard. He lived just over the river from my home. While reading his autobiography in 2009, I was wandering how to go and say hello, but found out I was too late. I produced a monument in honour of him called the 'Inner Space Memorial,' part of my Retrospective at the Bluecoat in Liverpool. A pair of speaker cones were turned around to play back into the void of their cabinets. An epitaph for a great mind."
Wonderland 20:00
"'Wonderland' is the finale of my exhibition soundtrack to "Asleep at the wheel...". A work that questions where our culture is heading further down the highway ahead. A single majestic daydream that drives you forwards as reality undertakes you. Location recordings were made in the middle of the night on a footbridge over the M3, at the end of Ballard's street. I was fascinated to work out that while he was writing Crash and Concrete Island, the six lane motorway was being built right past the front of his home. Ideal music for when you need to stay awake on the road!"
Nazoranai's second album is a curious tabula rasa that makes any kind of quasi-objective opinion nearly impossible, as the baggage and expectations of the individual listeners are far more important than the actual sounds that this trio conjures up.  Though both Stephen O'Malley and Oren Ambarchi are physically present, their distinctive aesthetics are most definitely not: this is Keiji Haino's show and it is an entirely improvised one.  Charitably viewed, that means spontaneous, volcanic, and wildly unpredictable free-rock heaven from one of the genre's most singular icons.  Viewed by me, The Most Painful Time is an indulgent, flawed, quixotic, and intermittently compelling attempt to recapture the wide-eyed freedom and possibility of psych rock's formative years.
The Most Painful Time... opens with "You Should Look Closely…," a piece which instantly conveys absolutely everything that anyone would need to know about the album.  Most significantly, Ambarchi and O'Malley are relegated to drums and bass, respectively.  Ambarchi, for his part, is a surprisingly adept drummer who keeps a tom-heavy groove going that resides somewhere between doom metal and free-jazz.  Stephen O'Malley, on the other hand, is more or less reduced to a vague rumble and is quickly forgotten.  That is probably the single most frustrating aspect of the entire album: it sounds exactly like a live recording minus any crowd sounds, so the drums are reduced to a spirited clatter and the bass to a mere abstraction.  The absence of a visceral groove almost completely castrates the album for me, as I can hear that Oren is putting on quite a wild performance and that actually being in the room during the recording was probably face-melting, but I cannot feel any of that.  Consequently, the focus is almost entirely on Keiji's mixture of incendiary guitar squall, occasional synth noises, and somewhat arbitrary and unmelodic singing.
I mostly could do without the latter, though his isolated, echo-laden vocals in the uncharacteristically song-like "Will Not Follow Your Hoax Called History" are both effective and affecting.  For the most part, however, he just seems to howl or moan into the microphone when the mood strikes him.  As for his guitar playing, it is all over the place (albeit in a good way).  Sometimes he solos in a vaguely conventional "rock" way, sometimes he plays a restrained and idiosyncratic strain of the blues, and sometimes he locks into something that sounds like a mutant, stuttering approximation of a Sabbath riff (as he does in the title piece).  Mostly, however, he just builds towards a messy, effects-heavy firestorm of guitar noise, which is the area in which he truly excels.  While I enjoy several of Ambarchi's grooves, the primary appeal of The Most Painful Time... truly (and almost solely) lies in Haino's unhinged guitar eruptions.  The rest of the album (for me, anyway) is basically just waiting for them to happen.
Aside from the "live album" fidelity and gutted low-end, I was also exasperated by how "off the cuff" this album feels.  I am willing to accept that Nazoranai prize spontaneity and passion above all else, but I cannot overlook the fact that this trio's potential far exceeds what they produced: it could have been extremely cool to hear a genuine collaboration recorded in a real studio with overdubbing, more structure, more presence, and more editing.  Or maybe the group would have just imploded instantly–regardless, the possibilities certainly nag at me.  Still another exasperating aspect to The Most Painful Time... is that it arrived about 40 years too late to make a substantial impact: had it come from an earlier era, Nazoranai would probably enjoy a mythic stature similar to that of Les Rallizes Denudes and deservedly be the subject of much enthusiastic prose from Julian Cope. In 2014, it is still an admirably messy, visceral, and explosive return to a wilder, freer mindset, but it is far too much of a pale shadow of the actual performance to offer much appeal to those who are not already Keiji Haino fans.
In the past few years, Mike Griffin has been perfecting his own personal blend of musique concrete and harsh noise in his suburban basement studio. His output has appeared mostly in the form of limited tapes and CDRs, but Pilot's Salt is his first fully-fledged LP release. Pared with the recently released Tovarich tape, both releases make for excellent introduction to his ever-growing discography.
The two pieces that make up the first half of Pilot's Salt are different in their overall sound but are tied together with certain repeating motifs.What sounds like clattering trains and dying machinery stretch between both pieces, but the first composition, "Recombinant Field", focuses on Griffin's use bleeping vintage synth pulses and feedback that bounces between restrained and piercing.On "Sufis Wandering the Causeway" many of those same sounds appear, but comparably the piece is more vast and expansive, letting the sounds ring out clearly in a hollow space.
On the other side, "Pilot's Salt" functions as a brief prelude to the remainder of the record, in the form of three minutes of out of tune radio noise, undulating bass and frozen car horn like drones.It fades out quick and leads right into "Pulverized Concrete on the Rim of a Coffee Cup," a more menacing leviathan of buzzing electronics and a bowed string-like blast of noise.It largely stays within the sparser structure that characterized "Sufis" but over a longer duration.Crackling textures and sweeps of noise keep things creepy, with the occasional jarring outburst to function nicely as a jump scare tactic.
The material that makes up Tovarich seems to be culled from the same sessions as Pilot's Salt, and thus works as a brilliant accompanying recording."Double Wide Hippocampus" sees Griffin bringing back the car horn sounds again, mixed in with idling synth drones and pitch bent tape squeals.It keeps a rising/falling dynamic, and ends in a brilliantly bleak industrial din.In comparison, "Analog Shock Technique" is simpler and minimalist.Tentative electronic buzzing and loads of echo and delay result in a spacey, more psychedelic sound.
On the other side of the tape, the 15 minute "Fossilized Car" is all guttural, scraping scree and rudimentary synthesizer progressions.It lurches along like some primordial beast but never stays still, constantly blending the individual sonic elements as the composition trudges along.It brings back the slowly dying machine vibe mixed with the spacy sci-fi outbursts and noise blasts, resulting in a piece that is sometimes jerky and jumpy, but brilliant nonetheless.
Mike Griffin's work as Parashi has shown different characteristics on previous releases; sometimes harsh, sometimes psychedelic, but both Pilot's Salt and Tovarich represent some of his most consistent and fully realized work to date.By no means was his work lacking in the past, but this pair is rich with alternating harshness, beauty, and deep studies of sound and sonic textures, and done brilliantly.
Hamburg's Marc Richter has been busy since his last Type appearance (2009's genre-bending and critically acclaimed Alphabet 1968). Aside from helming the prolific Dekorder imprint, he's put out a number of musical curios, including 2012's excellent film soundtrack EARTH. Now Richter is back with Alphabet 1968's proper followup, a sprawling double album pieced together with crumbling samples, vocal snippets and an arsenal of noise generators and filters.
Richter's material has always been characterized by an air of surrealism, but it's never been more obvious than on the pulsing, chattering opener "Human Gidrah" or in the delirious fractured pop of "Hands." There are real songs in hidden somewhere, but disintegrated by Richter's sound manipulation techniques and dissolved into soupy extended drone marathons. The centerpiece is undoubtedly "Is Nowhere," which builds slowly over 20 minutes with rumbling organ sounds and buzzing filters, never budging your attention for a second.
Black To Comm is a deeper, more challenging record than its predecessor, but one which repays the patient listener. Richter's dusty, unique sound has never sounded more well-honed and pointed, and it's a patchwork of ideas and fragments that only improves over time.
“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.”
A modern-day revenge tragedy in six parts. Symmetrical, finespun, almost courtly; but quick-tempered with it, and far from blood-shy.
A picture emerges: domestic disturbances, pissing on the compost heap, noise complaints from hateful neighbours. Sulking, pouting, goading – a hierarchy of needs. Cold leaves and Christmas. Body-clocks betrayed. Staying up late to collect bottles to smash in the carpark across the road. Marijuana and make-believe. Cracking this thin ice with deft stomping aplomb.
Due out December 15, 2014, in an edition of 300. Recommended if you carry a torch for AC Marias, Brenda Ray, General Strike, The Poems, Robert Storey or other such angels of shut-in dub dysfunction.
Faith In Strangers was written and produced between January 2013 and June 2014, and was edited and sequenced in late July this year. Making use of on an array of instruments, field recordings, found sounds and vocal treatments, it's a largely analogue variant of hi-tech production styles arcing from the dissonant to the sublime.
The first two tracks recorded during these early sessions bookend the release, the opener "Time Away’"featuring Euphonium played by Kim Holly Thorpe, and last track "Missing," a contribution by Stott’s occasional vocal collaborator Alison Skidmore, who also appeared on 2012's Luxury Problems. Between these two points, Faith In Strangers heads off from the sparse and infected "Violence" to the broken, downcast pop of "On Oath" and the motorik, driving melancholy of "Science & Industry" – three vocal tracks built around that angular production style that imbues proceedings with both a pioneering spirit and a resonating sense of familiarity. Things take a sharp turn with "No Surrender"- a sparkling analogue jam making way for a tough, smudged rhythmic assault, while "How It Was" refracts sweaty Warehouse signatures and "Damage" finds the sweet spot between RZA's classic Ghost Dog and Terror Danjah at his most brutal. Faith in Strangers is next and offers perhaps the most beautiful and open track here: its vocal hook and chiming melody bound to the rest of the album via the almost inaudible hum of Stott's mixing desk. It provides a haze of warmth and nostalgia that ties the nine loose joints that make up the LP into the most memorable and oddly cohesive of Stott's career to date, built and rendered in the spirit of those rare albums that straddle innovation and tradition through darkness and light.
Sea Island is a collection of new material composed and recorded over the past two years. While many of these compositions were performed live extensively prior to recording, others were constructed in the studio and are being heard for the first time here. Musically, the album represents a range of compositional approaches. Murky, densely textured depths of sound are explored with subtle pulses and pings woven within, contrasted with composed or improvised moments of acoustic instrumentation making a move into the foreground. Certain tracks on Sea Island such as album opener "Ahull" make rhythm their focus by exploring subtle polyrhythms and investigating colliding moments of repetition and variation.
Though staunchly electronic at its core, instruments such as vibraphone and piano make appearances, and layers of live musicality, improvisation and detail appear in the looped and layered beds of manipulated sound recordings. A varied cast of players appear in the loscil ensemble, some familiar collaborators from the past such as Jason Zumpano on rhodes and Josh Lindstrom on vibraphone, and others new to the mix such as Fieldhead's Elaine Reynolds who provides layered violin on "Catalina 1943," and Ashley Pitre contributing vocals on Bleeding Ink. Seattle pianist Kelly Wyse, who collaborated with loscil on his 2013 edition of piano-centric reworks Intervalo, performs on the tracks "Sea Island Murders" and "En Masse."
This may be the first album from partners in music (and life) Faith Coloccia and Aaron Turner since 2011, but the two have been anything but stagnant in those past few years. Collaborations with other artists as Mamiffer and side projects abound between these two restless artists, and the duo are even hesitant to consider this the proper third album. Regardless of how it officially stands in their overall canon, Statu Nascendi is a powerful work that strips the Mamiffer sound down to its organic core.
Previous Mamiffer works have existed in the nebulous space between metal, ambient and noise, but this record has the duo focusing more on moody, spacious styles.Turner’s guitar throughout these four pieces is kept low in the mix, occasionally drifting into dissonance such as on the lengthy "Enantiodromia."Even here, however, it stays under tight control and instead of blasting aggressively it enriches a hazy, shoegaze type drone.Paired with the sounds of an organ, it melds into a beautiful fog.
The first piece, "Caelestis Partus," is the most stand-alone, and one of the more traditional sounding ones in their overall discography.Turner's guitar is pushed deep and isolated in the mix, awash in cavernous reverb.Delicate vocals appear a few minutes in, resulting in an uplifting and more inviting accompaniment to the otherwise bleak and dour guitar sound, which builds to a darker, dramatic conclusion.
The focus of the album is Faith Coloccia's vocals, which are utilized on each piece on the album.Her voice is beautiful, yet somber, and contrasts the darker instrumental passages.Blended tastefully to be the centerpiece without being overwhelming, her voice gives the album a certain English pastoral folk sound.With its hint of medieval madrigals and bleak accompaniment, there is a beautiful yet mildly sinister sensibility throughout the pieces, most overtly on the closing "Flower of the Field."
Coloccia's trademark piano has even been scaled back to emphasize mood over force.It appears heavily on "Mercy," but in a comparably restrained manner than her percussive sound heard on previous Mamiffer records.The piano and vocals remain the focus, however, with guitar being cautiously added to flesh out the piece nicely.
If Coloccia and Turner are considering this to not be the third album proper, but a transitional entry until that is released sometime next year, I am quite curious how the new work will sound.The reductionist approach to Statu Nascendi works extremely well, distilling the essence of the Mamiffer sound down to its most essential elements.If the new album is a new direction entirely or an even more stripped down work, I am sure it will be a brilliant work either way.
Culled from two 2012 performances in Japan, the two pieces that make up this album are built from the most simple of arrangements. The way this improvisational trio put these basic instruments together, however, is what makes this album excel. Not a simple or easy listen, it succeeds in that difficult abstraction.
Consisting of Tetuzi Akiyama on guitar, Jason Kahn playing synth, and Toshimaru Nakamura controlling a no-input mixing board, the instrumentation used by these three artists is sparse to say the least.On "ftarri", the two electronic instruments set the stage, from synth outbursts and detuned radio static (which is, I assume, Nakamura’s mixing board).Akiyama’s guitar drops in, first plucked and then bowed, played erratically to become an almost percussive, banging instrument.
There is an overall cut-up, quick shift type sound to the piece, with the trio quickly switching up styles and approaches.Shrill electronic swells are pulled away to silence just before they become unbearable, and moments that almost resemble conventional rhythmic progressions dissolve just as quickly as they appear.The middle section is especially heavy on the quieter moments, which are punctuated with harsher blasts towards the end of the performance.
The other piece, "ihj" (recorded at the International House of Japan) has the trio dialing back the hyper-kinetic nature of the previous performance a bit.On the whole it is less about the quick changes and jump cuts, and instead it has the trio working in more droning, sustained moments.Evident from the opening low-end tone, the performance lurks more than it jumps.
That is not to say that the piece is boring by any means:the trio still work their distinctly different instruments wonderfully, keeping a flow going throughout the performance.Akiyama’s ugly guitar scrapes cut through that opening electronic drone pretty quickly, and ultrasonic squeals pierce everything effectively.There is just a greater sense of sustain and force, with less introspective, silent moments.Grinding guitar and flirtations with synth melodies appear frequently, but dissonance and abstraction is still the dominant feature.
The sort of free improvisation that this trio works with is not the most accessible, but I personally find it captivating when it is done this well.The variety of noises coaxed from two conventional and one unconventional instrument only occasionally sound like they "should", being bent and manipulated by their players.There are moments that feel a bit directionless, like three individuals making noises independent of each other, but such is the nature of free improvisation.More often than not, each of the players compliment each other greatly, to result in a strange, sometimes confusing, but almost always fascinating work.