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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Capturing a single performance between these two titans of improvised music, labeling this three-plus hour set as "intense" would be doing it a disservice. Recorded in 1996, after Keiji Haino and Peter Brötzmann had worked together in the studio setting some time prior, so the two artists had some previous interactions to build from. Here augmented by the full Fushitsusha trio of Yasushi Ozawa and Jun Kosugi, it all comes together with a primal intensity few can match, and well up there with the best moments in both artists’ catalogues.
Like many (dumb) kids, I grew up deriding jazz as boring music for boring people, the world inhabited by people like Branford Marsalis and Kenny G.It was not until I received a dubbed copy of the Peter Brötzmann Octet’s Machine Gun that I reconsidered the possibilities that it could be something that I enjoyed, and while my tastes still stick to the more chaotic free jazz end of the spectrum, it was still a development for me, and one of the reasons why Brötzmann’s work always holds a special place in my heart.
To be fair, some of the groundwork had already been laid for me via bands such as God and Painkiller, the latter of which featured Haino in a few of their recordings.Had I heard this performance some 18 years ago (when I was still at the prime "jazz sucks" age), it would have likely pushed me a bit more close to jazz acceptance.Disc one begins with a series of erratic, trashy sounding snare drums and chiming bells, providing a pseudo mystical, spiritual introduction to what will come.After a few rushes of cymbals the band pares back to just return lead by a brilliantly distorted bass guitar.When the full band finally launches in, it is a full on drum pounding, sharp and monstrous roar that tenses and relaxes, lead by Haino's distinctive voice.
Brötzmann's contributions do not become prominent until the second disc, squealing through rumbling bass and hurdy-gurdy drone.The full quartet lock into a hellish expanse of sound that just gets louder and louder, with Haino’s vocals becoming more and more frightening.Moving towards a jerky stop/start structure lead by Brötzmann’s sax and beginning a duet with Haino’s guitar, the performance turns deliciously harsh.Both of these artists built much of their careers on an extreme, idiosyncratic approach to playing their respective instruments, and as such the two of them together playing in unison is simply transcendent.The performance surprisingly drops back to a more restrained, overtly jazzy sounding piece with muted horn and piano before ending the second hour with a nice blast.
The third disc leads off softly, at first propelled by unconventional sounding percussion, ambient horn and droning bass, until screamed voices from Haino leads things into a ritualistic direction.Functioning nicely as the calm before the (expected) storm, the players stay somewhat relaxed before building the performance in intensity and density.Everyone finally erupts into a brilliantly lurching psych rock outburst, not entirely unconventional but played with a force and intensity few could hope to match.The closing minutes drift into utter chaos and back again, wonderfully coming apart as the conclusion gets ever closer.
I am rather surprised that this gem has remained unreleased for nearly two decades, given that both Peter Brötzmann and Fushitsusha have a strong following and have had the support since prior to this performance.Regardless of that, Nothing Changes measures up to expectations based upon the players, and also apparently represents the first full length, commercially available Fushitsusha performance, and it is an exceptional one at that.
[note:song titles listed for samples are best guesses, each disc is indexed as a single track]
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This is my first exposure to this Chicago super-duo consisting of Steven Hess (Pan•American/Locrian) and Michael Vallera (COiN), but they have actually existed long enough to record a loosely related trilogy of albums that culminates in this one.  According to Immune, Drown is the "apex of a five-year exploration of image, space, and sound," so I guess it is as good a place to start as any.  I cannot say I have much to note about their image, but I am legitimately impressed with Cleared’s use of both space and sound, as they strongly resemble an improbable convergence of Sunn O))), Cocteau Twins, and Tortoise.  It does not always work entirely seamlessly, but it sure is great when it does.
The most immediately striking aspect of Drown for me is that Vallera and Hess seem more than happy to sound like a two-man band: there is certainly some layering happening, but not much happens that sounds like it could not be replicated live with the help of some looping pedals.  That decision unexpectedly turns out to be one of Cleared's primary strengths, as their stripped-down aesthetic is actually more unique that their actual content.  I do like the content too though, even if Steven and Michael err a bit on the side of being too sketch-like/improvisational-sounding for me at times.
They are at their best when they combine doom-y brooding and distortion-worship with trance-inducing percussion patterns, as they do in the roiling-death-drone-meets-tambourines epic "Remote Ocean Prayer," which is also nicely embellished by some stuttering and static-y electronics.  The duo triumph again with the nightmarish, grinding horror of "Tracing Mirror," enhanced beautifully by an understated techno throb.  If they had just stuck with heavy drones and alternately pummeling or hypnotic rhythms, Drown would have been a crushing monster of an album.  As it stands, however, Cleared opted for variety and innovation rather than making the more predictable album that I would have preferred.  I suppose that is noble, but it still makes the rest of the album a bit uneven.
Most of it is still quite good though.  "Warmth," for example, drops the rhythmic component of Cleared’s successful formula to leave only shuddering, densely heavy drone, though it is enlivened by cavernous ringing swells and something that sounds like a slow-motion, pitch-shifted maraca pattern.  "Mercury" follows a similar template, though it instead features some heavy kit drumming from Hess that is too slow to quite resolve into a satisfying rhythm.  Hess's drum parts are far more compelling in the bludgeoning opener "Flowers for Lead" and the tribal tom dirge of "Nights."
Unfortunately, however, both of those pieces are undermined by watery, chorus-heavy dreampop guitars.  While I am generally the last person on earth to take issue with anything dreampop-related, adding a melodic guitar component to the Cleared aesthetic crosses the invisible barrier separating abstract music from actual songs.  While there is not anything fundamentally wrong with pieces like "Drown" or "Nights," there is just not enough to sustain my attention: when they are going for atmosphere, Cleared are wonderful, but when they bring melodies into the picture, it just sounds like two guys jamming on a promising song-sketch that still needs vocals or something.
Maybe that feeling is totally subjective to me though, as I think my capacity to be bored to death by post-rock far exceeds that of many other music fans.  In any case, there are at least two or three unquestionably heavy and wonderful pieces here and I am a big fan of Hess's glacially slow drumming.  Cleared are definitely doing something right.  Is a couple of excellent songs enough reason to declare an album a success?  I am not sure.  That is certainly more than most albums have.  Regardless, Cleared seem like a promising band with more cool ideas than a fully-formed art-metal juggernaut at this point, but they definitely got my attention.
 
Tom Kovacevic has been in a couple of great bands over the years (Cerberus Shoal & Fire on Fire), but he has never been an especially prominent figure, so I had absolutely no idea what to expect from a debut solo album that celebrates two decades of studying Arabic music.  As it turns out, I should have expected a lot, as Universe Thin as Skin is a bit of a minor masterpiece (and a wonderfully anachronistic one besides).  While there are certainly appealing shades of Fire on Fire to be found, Tom's true kindred spirits seem to go a bit further back to visionary folks like Robbie Basho and The Incredible String Band (though he thankfully eschews any of the latter's absurdist tendencies).
I know I am on shaky ground discussing purity and authenticity in relation to an album of quasi-traditional Arabic music recorded by a white guy in Maine, but Universe Thin as Skin at least feels quite direct, timeless, and guileless from its very first notes.  While I am sure some of that sense comes from the somewhat unfamiliar modes, instruments, and timbres that Kovacevic employs, I also feel that Tom taps into something quite a bit deeper as well.  It is those vague and intuitive qualities that make Universe so unique, as these eight songs feel wonderfully comfortable and lived-in, traits that stem from Tom's unhurried pace, deep understanding of space and flow, and avoidance of anything resembling artifice.  Also, there is quite a bit of passion to be found in these songs as well–I suppose I should mention that.  Without that perfect balance, Universe would merely be pleasant rather than weirdly transcendent.
Curiously, Universe is the rare album that seems to be deliberately formulaic and all the better for it (I imagine that structural consistency is an intentional nod to traditional Arabic music).  With the exception of the nay flute-driven instrumentals "Kürdi" and "Dulab Bayati," every song begins with a brief tremolo-picked oud improvisation before settling into a lazily hypnotic and swaying groove and staying there, which is just fine by me.  Aside from subtle percussion and some occasional flute coloration, Kovacevic does not embellish his simple oud motifs with much of anything beyond his plaintive, unusual vocals.  While that tactic yields no surprises at all once the album gets going, the gain is that Universe attains a sort of languorous, quasi-ritualistic beauty.  That said, some songs still work better than others, with the lengthy, dynamically rhythmic "I’ll Ask You" stealing the show as the album’s inarguable centerpiece.  There is not weak piece in the entire bunch though, unless too much of a very specific good thing can be said to yield diminishing returns.  I do not think it does in this case though.
With the exception of a single slightly dubious Beatles reference, it is difficult to find a single flaw with Universe Thin as Skin without proclaiming Tom's entire vision to be a towering misadventure.  His idiosyncratic vocals, unusual cosmos-minded lyrics, and repeating formula certainly will not be for everyone, though fans of his Kovacevic's previous bands will likely be predisposed to appreciate them. In any case, Tom's bizarre alchemy certainly works for me, as his intense sincerity and otherness make for one of the most compellingly singular albums of the year as far as I am concerned.  I have been playing this record to death and expect to continue doing so for quite some time.
 
Initially released in 1997, three years after Derek Jarman's passing, The Garden Was Full of Metal was a fitting tribute to the legendary director. It also, however, helped to demonstrate that Robin Rimbaud was a musician with a more significant artistry than solely relying on the novelty of presenting covertly recorded wireless phone conversations. Reissued for the 20th anniversary of Jarman's death, with four additional songs from the same sessions, it remains an extremely personal tribute to one artist from another.
Intimacy was always a major facet of Rimbaud's work as Scanner, but here he turns that inward, via an emotional tribute to an artist whom he was heavily inspired by.It might not be as an overt as secretly recorded telephone calls were, but there is an extremely personal and poignant gravitas in these recordings.Rimbaud speaks of these compositions as "sound Polaroids," utilizing recordings of places and locations important in Jarman's life as source material, with a restrained use of instrumentation and relatively simple processing and effects.Interspersed with this are excerpts from various Jarman interviews throughout the years.
"Experience" exemplifies the approach of this album, with its layered voice samples and basic keyboard sounds that fold back into themselves.The arrangement may be simple, but the result is beautiful."Drop" sees Rimbaud using both instrument and voice samples, largely reversed and paired with a brittle but memorable drum loop that is one of the few things that dates this album as from the late 1990s.Rhythms are used sparingly throughout the album otherwise, mostly via processed sounds or synth patterns. On "Their Own Space" the beat is generated from either a treated sample or bit of keyboard tone that makes for a nice contrast to the more mournful electronic sounds.
On a piece such as "Fravaer," the rhythm is less overt and more insinuated via light thumping noises that accompany string swells and what sounds to be field recording loops.The same feel bleeds into "Rosa Rugosa," with a simple skittering click sample as percussion with dramatic piano and strings that could easily be a film score piece.
The four newly added songs from the same sessions fit in beautifully with the remainder of the work."Circles of Stone" is another passage of melancholy synthesizers that are filmic without being unnecessarily dramatic."Translucence" is a short but sweet piece of new age-y electronics mixed with interview fragments, and "I Waited a Lifetime" is admittedly more skeletal than the remainder of the album, but its slowly progressing piano fits the album’s mood perfectly.The final piece, "Garden (Redux)" seems to be a mix of the album as a whole, and while it clearly has a sound collage feeling to it, it fits together better than most of this sort.
Even 17 years after its first issue, The Garden is Full of Metal retains all of the reverence and celebration of Jarman's life that it intended.Additionally, Robin Rimbaud's work remains just as distinct and powerful as it did then, and with the additional material added, the result being richer and more fully realized.It is a perfect example of how an artist and composer who is creating something so intimate and personal that it can transcend time and technology, a description that is apt for both Rimbaud and Jarman's art.
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Sutekh Hexen are one of the few artists who successfully transcended that boundary between esoteric black metal and experimental noise without seeming to be also-ran poseurs in an already crowded field.   They also manage to dabble with occult imagery and moods without it coming across as a simple ploy for attention. This most recent release, Monument of Decay reissues an out of print limited LP and cassette from last year with a wider availability and a previously unreleased ten minute bonus piece appended.
Right from the first moments of "Lastness," a dark and oppressive fog enshrouds everything, obscuring sweeping noises and sinister metallic rattling to add mood and tension.Some sort of perceptible melody can be heard via simple synth sequence, but the heavily processed vocals keep it from sounding anything but conventional.The second half peels back a few of the menacing layers, but keeps its expansive, droning nature."Dakhma" is comprised of similar elements, but on the whole stays a bit calmer:more bleak than evil and more ambient than dense.There are some harsher elements that sneak through, offsetting the undulating noise and melancholy electronics, but staying more open ended without becoming too placid.
The two pieces in the middle of the original running order are where the real meat and power of the album lies."…Of Emanation" transitions smoothly from "Lastness," but after a stripped down intro it launches into full on pounding rhythms and heavily processed screaming.A dense digital sheen places everything in a nebulous space between metal (the rapid fire drumming and screaming vocals), and noise (everything else in the mix).
On "Dhumavati's Hunger," the band pushes the metal elements even further below, only overtly represented by a bit of creaking, grinding guitar noise that manages to occasionally slip through.Most of the song, however, is focused on sharp, crackling static and a lurking low-end drone that keeps things dark and terrifying.Compared to what preceded it, there is a bit more restraint to be heard, but it is still nicely raw and hulking.
This new CD issue of Monument of Decay adds lengthy a new piece, "Shadows II," that makes for an exceptional addition to an already strong release.Thin, brittle layers of noise blend with each other to lead off aggressive, but soon opens up to a surprisingly expansive, delicate passage of guitar and ambience, making for the calmest moment on this album by far.These musical inclinations stay present, even though they are soon overtaken by a jet engine-like roar blasting through.The melody stays there, obscured by blasting noise and metallic undercurrents, resulting in a constantly mutating, evolving piece of music.After a lengthy silence, the piece reappears in reverse, bringing out some different elements and sounds than what was previously heard.
The major influences on Sutekh Hexen are not hard to spot, but they clearly take those influences in a their own direction, with an occult feel that is more deep rooted than just outward imagery.There is a fitting sense of malignance that permeates Monument of Decay, and like a good horror story, it is that unspecified sense of evil that makes for its biggest attraction.
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Blackest Ever Black presents to you Dead Unique, an album by Officer! recorded in 1995 but - outrageously, inexplicably - never before released into the public domain. This then is not a reissue or a revival; it's a new record that just happens to have been maturing in the cask for, oh, a little shy of 20 years. It also happens to be a lost classic of English art-rock, and the crowning achievement in the career of its mercurial creator, Mick Hobbs, who was closely associated with This Heat and their Cold Storage studio.
A complex but thrillingly immediate avant-pop song cycle that charms and confounds at every turn, Dead Unique will give immense pleasure not only to Officer!’s existing cult following, but to anyone with an appreciation of piquant, idiosyncratic songcraft – fans of Kevin Ayers, Flaming Tunes, Art Bears, Woo, Dislocation Dance, R. Stevie Moore, Robert Wyatt, Cleaners From Venus, Lol Coxhill or The Monochrome Set should especially pay attention. It touches upon ragged-raw rock ‘n roll, sumptuous chamber music, pastoral folk, blowsy prog-jazz and paranoid dub-space, effortlessly shifting from skronking abstraction to rousing harmonic refrain and back again.
Blurring the roles of storyteller, poet and prankster, Hobbs turns memorable line after memorable line, booby-trapping them with mischievous puns, fleet-footed literary allusions, sudden digressions and shifts of register, nonsense rhymes and other wordplay. But his acute wit and flair for the absurd is moored by a deep romantic sensibility, and though it delights in the minutiae of the human comedy, Dead Unique ultimately addresses its biggest themes: love, loss, commitment, independence, the mutability and inconstancy of all things. "You lose, you learn, you advance…but you always go back."
More information can be found here.
Wilderness of Mirrors is the new album from Lawrence English. It is two years in the making and the first album created since the release of his 2011 ode to J.A Baker’s novel, The Peregrine. It is English’s most tectonic auditory offering to date, an unrelenting passage of colliding waves of harmony and dynamic live instrumentation.
The phrase, wilderness of mirrors, draws its root from T.S Eliot’s elegant poem "Gerontion." During the cold war, the phrase became associated with campaigns of miscommunication carried out by opposing state intelligence agencies. Within the context of the record, the phrase acted as a metaphor for a process of iteration that sat at the compositional core of the LP. Buried in each final piece, like an unheard whisper, is a singularity that was slowly reflected back upon itself in a flood of compositional feedback. Erasure through auditory burial.
Wilderness Of Mirrors also reflects English’s interests in extreme dynamics and densities, something evidenced in his live performances of the past half decade. The album’s overriding aesthetic of harmonic distortion reveals his ongoing explorations into the potentials of dense sonics.
“During the course of this record,” English explains, “I was fortunate enough to experience live performances by artists I deeply respect for their use of volume as an affecting quality, specifically Earth, Swans and My Bloody Valentine. I had the chance to experience each of these groups at various stages in the making this record and each of them reinforced my interest in emulating that inner ear and bodily sensation that extreme densities of vibration in air brings about.”
The album is moreover a reflection on the current exploitation of the ideals of the wilderness of mirrors, retuned and refocused from the politics of the state, to the politics of the modern multiplex. The amorphous and entangled nature of the modern world is one where thoughtless information prevails in an environment starved of applied wisdom. Wilderness Of Mirrors is a stab at those living spectres (human and otherwise) that haunt our seemingly frail commitments to being humane.
“We face constant and unsettled change,” English notes, “It's not merely an issue of the changes taking place around us, but the speed at which these changes are occurring. We bare witness to the retraction of a great many social conditions and contracts that have previously assisted us in being more humane than the generations that precede us. We are seeing this ideal of betterment eroded here in Australia and abroad too. This record is me yelling into what seems to be an ever-growing black abyss. I wonder if my voice will reflect off something?”
Wilderness Of Mirrors is reflection upon reflection, a pure white out of absolute aurality.
Out July 21, 2014. More information here.
Melt Into Nothing is ENSEMBLE ECONOMIQUE's most lucid seance to date. The prolific Humboldt County musician has stripped layers off of his trademark haze but retained the beautiful desolation that’s earned him a rabid fanbase. The solo project of former Starving Weirdos member Brian Pyle, Ensemble Economique has crossed a land bridge from apocryphal world music and dusty soundtracks to gauzy 4AD-style atmospherics. Trellises of guitar embolden Pyle’s whispered, threadbare lyrics. On "Hey Baby," the itinerant tone feels like an update on Neil Young's stark and beautiful soundtrack for Jarmusch's "Dead Man." "Melt Into Nothing," like that beautiful film music, evokes the great American expanse.
Field recordings slip in and out of the mix. On "Fade for Miles," Pyle's adroit effects and backwards tape manipulation make the long trail on his vocals fade into waves on a rocky beach. Pyle combines minor-key organ and spacious string synths on "Never Gonna Die," recalling the grey grace of the releases on Factory's gothic cousin, Benelux. Thunder accentuates the dubbed-out machine drum programming as Pyle's dulcet tenor floats in storm clouds. The full-length also features contributions from Toronto artist DenMother and Parisian artist Sophia Hamadi, also of dark-wave Opale. This music is not excessively dark or severe. Rather, the record explores the internal dialogue of solitary walks. "Melt Into Nothing" is for making sense of humanity in nature’s unforgiving face. Ensemble Economique has made his most accessible record yet, but the complex emotion behind these tracks remains resonant and ultimately mysterious.
Out June 27th, 2014. More info can eventually be found here.
Side A - "The Temple Bell Stops"
Side B - "But The Sound Keeps Coming" and "Out Of The Flowers."
Recorded at SOMA studios on April 21st, 2013 by The Norman Conquest. One take performances recorded without overdubs with the exception of an ARP 2600 Analog Synthesizer track by The Norman Conquest on "But The Sound Keeps Coming."
"Out Of The Flowers" was an improvisation with The Norman Conquest on the ARP.
Source material for "The Temple Bell Stops" and "But The Sound Keeps Coming" recorded by me at home in Chicago and in the field. Chanting on "The Temple Bell Stops" by an unknown monk at Jogyesa Buddhist Temple in Seoul, South Korea.
Additional contributions on "But The Sound Keeps Coming" by anonymous Cardinals, Nuthatches, Tufted Titmice, Woodpeckers and Blue-Jays in Hobart, Indiana; also Tree Frogs and Crickets at Hussy Lake, Michigan and Grasshoppers and Gold Finches at Clark and Pine Dune and Swale preserve in Gary, Indiana.
“There is all the time in the world for studying music, but for living there is scarcely any time at all. For living takes place each instant and that instant is always changing. The wisest thing to do is to open one’s ears immediately and hear a sound suddenly before one’s thinking has a chance to turn it into something logical, abstract, or symbolical. Sounds are sounds and men are men, but now our feet are a little off the ground.” -John Cage, from Juilliard Lectureenople
More information will eventually appear here.
Mind-shattering double LP of dysphoric space-rock minimalism from two luminaries of the Swedish punk underground.
Second Launch follows Bremen’s self-titled debut of 2013 and comprises 11 controlled improvisations, reinforced with overdubs, that take clear inspiration from the dark side of kraut and progressive rock, early electronic and drone music, whilst also owing something to the fathomlessly bleak interior landscapes conjured by Nico/Cale on The Marble Index and Desertshore.
The complex dialogue between Lanchy Orre’s guitar and Jonas Tiljander’s organ, by turns pensive and combative, bound up with their mastery of reverb and feedback, is the focal point of the record; supplemented with drums and sparingly deployed analogue synthesizer tones to evoke nothing less than the vast emptiness of outer space and the obliteration of all meaning and identity in the face of it.
From the full-throttle motorik and bonehead repetitions of "Sweepers" and "Entering Phase Two" (echoes of Tiljander and Orre's alma mater, Brainbombs) to the deep astral psychedelia of "Static Interferences," via the mournful Northern European ambience of "Walking The Skies," the rolling thunder of "They Were Drifting" and the poignant, stargazing blues of "Hollow Wave," Second Launch charts impossible gradients in its search for answers to the oldest questions of all.
More information here.
A three-pronged advance through the heart of physical sunshine playing on the floor of the jungle. Epic, insistent collabasitions played out over four sides making a whole.
(Slightly) more information here.
