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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2009's polarizing God is Good alienated quite a few long-time Om fans, a situation that this album is highly unlikely to remedy–it looks like Al Cisneros' fascination with sitars, strings, and tablas is here to stay.  In fact, Om has never sounded less like Om, which I find a bit troubling.  Still, Al's ambition and intensity are almost sufficient enough to make it all work.  Despite its occasionally awkward attempts at grandeur and exoticism, Advaitic Songs is ultimately a very listenable and uncharacteristically varied batch of songs.
Before I begin chronicling my myriad frustrations with this album, I think it is important to point out that I actually love Om.  I think Al Cisneros is one of the most singular and compelling people making music right now and I will probably keep buying his albums forever.  Consequently, my exasperation with Om's recent work is that of a fan trying to come to grips with some seriously puzzling artistic decisions in the midst of otherwise stellar work rather than any kind of dislike.  I want (and expect) to love each new Om album, but lately there have been some serious flaws to struggle with.
The fundamental problem with Om is that Cisneros is brilliant in a very narrow way: Om are at their best when Cisneros is simply speak-singing his impenetrable but unsettling metaphysical dispatches over a propulsive ride cymbal groove.  The essence of Om is essentially "great drums" plus "unnaturally intense frontman who sounds like prophet that just emerged from a decade in the desert."  That is all.  Any divergence from that formula is a dangerous move and Cisneros diverges a lot here.
I can certainly understand his motivation though: it is clear that Al wants to avoid repeating himself and that is very hard to do with a palette of just bass and drums.  Also, some of his new ideas are quite good, particularly the crackling mullah call to prayer that opens "Sinai."  I have also belatedly come around to embrace Om's recent use of droning synths and sitars.  Unfortunately, there are some other innovations that work less well.  For example, Kate Ramsey's guest vocals in "Addis" are certainly likable, but they cause the band to sound a lot more like Dead Can Dance than Om (a problem that is compounded by the fact that Cisneros never sings and drummer Emil Amos sticks solely to the tambourine).
Also, while I like the texture and depth provided by Advaitic Songs' rampant cellos, violins, and violas, they are employed in a way that sits a bit uncomfortably within the Om aesthetic.  The band's greatest strength has always been its eschewing of hooks and melodies in favor of achieving a heavy, trance-like groove.  Adding lengthy, melodic string passages is not necessarily the kiss of death, but they tend to go for epic majesty here, which feels overdramatic amidst such understated music.  Besides, Cisneros' ominous shamanic vocals are gripping enough on their own.  The other problem is simply that Advaitic Songs is loaded with such instrumental motifs.  Sometimes they work well, sometimes they do not, but in both cases they are diluting the essential Om-ishness of the band.  In fact, I think Amos and Cisneros only lock into their characteristic killer groove in three of the five songs (and Al only nods to his metal past by stomping his distortion pedal for two minutes of "State of Non-Return").
On a more positive note, Om are as great as ever on the rare occasions when Emil Amos gets a chance play his full kit.  I could listen to him forever and I love that these songs have enough space to make every single nuance perfectly audible.  Cisneros is in similarly peak form, unleashing wonderfully sinuous bass lines and confounding me with his usual awesomely cryptic narratives ("light trickles through the adjunct worlds, the soul galleon prevails").  There are not any sustained bits of greatness on the level of God is Good's 19-minute "Thebes," but there are a number of shorter flashes of inspiration and Advaitic Songs is ultimately a much more coherent and fully realized work than its predecessor (though it might err on the side of overwrought at times).
Despite Om's over-reaching ambition and their puzzling reluctance to get visceral, lock into extended grooves, or play to their strengths, this is actually still a pretty enjoyable effort (even if it does not always sound quite like Om because too much light trickled into the adjunct worlds of strings and tablas).  I, of course, hope that this is merely another transitional effort rather than an endpoint, but the continued evolution of Cisneros' songcraft is very promising.  And I would still much rather listen to an uneven Om album than most other bands' best work.
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Ramleh and Broken Flag have seen a resurgence in the past few years, largely due to the three day Never Say When festival in the UK this past May (for which both of these releases were compiled), but also in a recent reactivation of Gary Mundy's seminal noise (and sometimes rock) project. While Mundy and current partner in crime Anthony DiFranco are moving onward with new material, these sets are an essential documentation of the band, and label’s past, as well as an often overlooked piece of early industrial culture.
Broken Flag/Vinyl-on-Demand/Harbinger Sound
Broken Flag formed in 1982, not long after Industrial Records and Come Organisation paved the way for the DIY aesthetic teamed with raw, industrial noise that would eventually be labeled Power Electronics.While the former’s partnership with Mute, and the latter's diligent work by founder William Bennett kept large chunks of their catalogs available, much of the material Mundy's label had largely disappeared, save for small, isolated chunks and occasional reissues.  These two sets give a strong reintroduction to the label, as well as an almost obsessive plunging into the first phase of Ramleh's existence.
Broken Flag:A Retrospective, originally issued in 2007 on vinyl is just that:a selection of tracks and pieces from a variety of artists associated with the label.The first disc and a half are dedicated to the Italian wing of Broken Flag:Giancarlo Toniutti, Maurizio Bianchi, and Mauthausen Orchestra (the late Pierpaolo Zoppo).Each stand on their own:Toniutti's dissonant, slightly musical synth experiments feel more structured and academic than many here, Bianchi's dour, echo drenched electronics (in the form of a long piece from the SFAG remix album, and a shorter compilation track), and Zoppo's combination of minimal textures and redlining harshness all sound unique, but are unified by a distinct sense of depression and dread.
Le Syndicat's material, culled from a compilation and the Rectal Struggle tape, sound more in-line with those early industrial projects, and the directly antecedent German power electronics scene (Genocide Organ, Tesco Industries, etc), mixing heavily distorted rhythms with feedback and pure sheets noise, most obvious on "Zirkel Children" and "The Wall."The US is represented by early noise stalwarts Controlled Bleeding, in the form of two long pieces from the Distress Signals tape.Clearly recorded before the more jazz-influenced sound took hold, the duo of Paul Lemos and Chris Moriarty throw down on two relentlessly harsh pieces, albeit with a buried hint of rhythm, metallic as well as synthetic.
Un-Kommuniti, the pre-Stereolab project from Tim Gane, appears as extracts from Mindretch, and it clearly shows hints of the more structured, musical direction he would eventually go.The diverse, synth bass driven "Destroy the Spectacle" and almost song-like "Doktrine 1" are the most complex recordings in this set, while still retaining that harsh, noisy edge.
Mundy's own work is represented in a selection of early Ramleh tracks (all of which appear on the Alive! box set), and also two tracks from his Kleistwahr alias.Neither "Myth Part 4-6" and "Fuck You All" are significantly removed from Ramleh sonically, but are more expansive and complex than the shorter material issued by his "main" band.The latter especially stands out as an endurance test of shrill tones that only relent about half way through.(I think I know where Prurient got the idea for "Roman Shower.")The only full work included is a nearly 30 minute track from Male Rape Group, their only composition "On to 83," which was a duo of Mundy and Philip Best.Due to its length and intensity, it is more in league with the likes of Merzbow or Hijokaidan than traditional power electronics, which is what makes it stand out, if for nothing else than its unadulterated brutality.
Closing the final disc is a pseudo-compilation of artists that were associated with the label, though not to the extent of others.Best's own Consumer Electronics has a painfully brief (minute and a half) submission of "Filthy Art," which not only shows he was an expert at sleazy noise as a teenager, but that his vocals have retained their intensity three decades later.Sutcliffe Jugend’s "Bloodfucking" is much more restrained sonically than its title would indicate, and is in line with their early works.The two short, strange pieces from Falx Cerebri ("Fucking World" and "Heartbeat") differ greatly, with the former being oddly percussive and bizarre, while the latter feels more like noise by the numbers.A short live performance by Vortex Campaign, Mundy's early attempts at a rock band, Toll, as well as an early track by the New Blockaders, "X-Nihilist Assault," demonstrating their proficiency at balancing pure noise and droning spaces, rounds out the set.
In an unprecedented move, the Vinyl-on-Demand label saw fit to reissue the previously vinyl only work on CD.Content-wise, it is identical (save for the limited 7" Ramleh tracks), and while the packaging is comparatively more Spartan, it still exudes quality:heavy flap-top box holding the five discs in hardback book style digipaks, and a scaled-down version of the original liner notes, complete with Mundy's commentary on the label discography.As a fan of most of the VOD label's output, I hope some of their other luxurious releases make the same transition to digital…the lower cost of both the packaging and the shipping would cause me to pick up quite a few releases.
The only weak facet of Broken Flag:A Retrospective, is that it is a mere sampling of the label’s massive discography, making wish there was more included.However, the stand-alone Ramleh box by Harbinger Sound certainly does not have that same caveat attached.
Initially a duo of Gary Mundy and Bob Strudwick, the latter replaced by Jerome Clegg not long after, Ramleh's Awake! is actually an expanded reissue of a six cassette box set released in 1985, comprising all Ramleh recordings between 1982 and then, and intended as a symbolic closure to that phase of the label.Ramleh's sound differed a lot from their contemporaries like Whitehouse in the fact that it just sounded dirty.Whitehouse records in the early 1980s were harsh and brutal, but overall had a clean, pure quality to them, compared to Ramleh's ragged, filthy noises.If Whitehouse was a sharp, steel scalpel, Mundy and company were a rusty, serrated blade.Additionally, Ramleh also had a certain psychedelic feel to them.Not quite as pronounced as later noise artists like CCCC or Astro, but a noticeable use of flanging and echo to give them a distinct edge, with an overall mood that blended the futile depression of Maurizio Bianchi with the seething rage of Whitehouse.
Many of the tracks that make up the early portions of this disc share more in common with the world of harsh noise than what is now known as power electronics, since they trade in shrill feedback layers and sustained layers of static, rather than the hinted at rhythms and structures that PE is more associated with, although the use of screamed, unintelligible vocals are a trademark of the genre.
The earlier discs in the set unsurprisingly sound the most primitive, largely recorded on a cheap home four track or in questionable live circumstances, but the material on the final two discs, recorded in a proper studio, let the essence of Ramleh shine through, and also show that the transition from power electronics to heavy drone rock was not that drastic."Backlash" and "Anything Is Mine" are the clearest examples:cleaner production and what sounds like the use of a bass guitar in addition to the feedback and synth squall give a greater sense of structure, but also the fact that Mundy's vocals are relatively clear solidifies this, since rather than just manic screaming there is some almost "singing" going on here.
The sprawl of Awake! may make it a daunting task for the average listener...not only are there ten different versions of "Phenol" (although they barely resemble one another since most are live recordings), but there is also a good deal of overlap in other places, such as the two separate live at Morden Tower recordings, one official, and one bootleg, and two separate recordings of the band’s performance at the infamous Equinox Event in 1982.However, due to this thoroughness, moments like Philip Best talking to the sound guy at the end of the Clarendon Hotel performance about how he needs to turn things up louder for Whitehouse, who were "better" in his words (although Best has been a member of both, then and more recently), and other historical curiosities.
It is also to see a band that worked in "shock" tactics owning up to that part of their history.Rather than ignoring some of the intentional fascist overtones to their work, such as the references to Eichmann's execution (the first cassette was released on the 20th anniversary of this, which took place in Ramleh, Israel) and the inclusion of the Rockwell Hate tape (where the band contributed a noise backing to a George Lincoln Rockwell taped speech, himself the head of the American Nazi Party), they present them as they were 30 years ago.Mundy makes no apology for that period, but acknowledges their intent as being the work of teenagers looking to stir up trouble, hence the imagery.
The box itself is a luxurious package: a glossy 10" box with each disc in its own digipak, a large, detailed book outlining all of the included recordings, a poster, an art print by occasional Ramleh member Philip Best, and a few buttons.A far cry from the hand-dubbed Xeroxed tapes of the original releases.However, like the original cassette box, the eight discs come in identical digipaks, meaning the only way of identifying them is the catalog numbers on the discs themselves, and the track list in the booklet.Included within the booklet also is a large selection of scanned mailing lists, gig fliers, cassette artwork, articles/interviews (including two long form pieces by Paul Lemos), and some original hand-written lyrics from Mundy.
As far as historical documentation goes, the Ramleh/Broken Flag scene has gone from an extremely sparse footnote to a rich history within the span of a year or so:preceding these two boxes, and the UK festival, was a massive feature in the first (and currently only) issue of As Loud As Possible, providing an even further reaching commentary on both the releases and projects covered.All three combined makes for a comprehensive snapshot on what was a criminally underrated piece of noise history.
Hopefully this resurgence will continue on with newer Ramleh recordings, both of the power electronics and rock variety.Actually, blending the two projects has also demonstrated some great potential:the first part of the final track on 2009's Valediction album melded the two styles to wonderful effect.For the uninitiated, the Broken Flag Retrospective is probably the more welcoming introduction, as Awake! is so sprawling and obsessive in its thoroughness.However, it is for that reason that it is such an effective document, and proudly sits alongside the Incapacitants Box is Stupid and Hijokaidan The Noise sets in my collection as brilliant collections that emphasize the artistic side of a genre many refuse to acknowledge.
samples (Broken Flag: An Anthology):
samples (Ramleh - Awake!):
 
Following up an already impressive album (the self-released CDR and cassette reissued II) is never an easy feat, but Chicago's Sun Splitter have done just that. Continuing their doom metal/rock/industrial hybrid sound with an even greater level of polish, as well as going a bit more experimental at times, the sequel may even surpass the predecessor.
Sun Splitter's debut managed to encapsulate all of the things I enjoy about heavy metal music (sludgy, memorable riffs, an appropriately dark atmosphere), without much emphasis on the stuff I have never been fond of (overwrought cookie monster vocals, trite blasphemy, etc).They continue that approach here, and continuing to use a stiff drum machine that hints at the brilliance of early Godflesh without sounding like an intentional copy.
"The Serpent’s Gold Death" exemplifies this, and does a wonderful job at encapsulating the album as a whole:opening with weird, mangled sounds, it does not take long before a bass heavy low-end guitar riff kicks the door in, with a metronomic drum machine along for the ride.While the vocals show up later on, they are both so heavily processed to be nearly unrecognizable, and low enough in the mix to compliment, rather than dominate the rest of the instrumentation.
"Eye of Jupiter" trades in similar wares, with its immediate feedback and stuttering kick drum, but with relatively clean guitar tone that hints at the best of '70s hard rock balancing out the harshness.Between this, constantly evolving guitar sounds, and a bit of organ, the track shows more variety in six minutes than most bands do for an entire album, but each segment flows nicely into the next, not coming across like rough jump cuts or forced changes.
It is on the two longer pieces that the band goes for some more experimental sounds and changes."Parasitic Machine" starts out with a simple mechanical rhythm and diverse guitar lines, locking into a steadier groove than the preceding "Eye of Jupiter", but not in a dull fashion.At about the halfway point, the heaviness falls away into cold, frigid lands of ambience.The piece slowly builds back up, but never gets to the intensity that it began with.
"Two Cold Oceans" takes a more dramatic approach:slowly building up from a calm, organ driven opening, it quickly locks into a doomy, but propulsive rhythm.As it builds upon itself, it eventually launches into a full on cacophony with only the vestiges of guitar identifiable.The piece then collapses, closing the album with echoed voices and mutilated loops.
III keeps Sun Splitter's unique take on metal to its next logical stage.Sticking with the catchy riffs and machine beats that work so well, but adding in an even more prominent focus on abstract textures and dissonant distortion makes for an extremely powerful album, one that shows there is little chance of these guys succumbing to the stagnant repetition that so many lesser metal bands fall prey to.
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As if the allure of Jessica Bailiff's voice isn't enough to get any reasonable person excited about Northern Song Dynasty, then knowing that her fantastic song writing mixes exceedingly well with Jesse Edwards' approach should be enough to motivate everyone else.
All Is Number
Chances are you didn't get one of the 100 copies of this album thatwere released back in 2002. Now that it has been re-released, you'llwant to go out and grab it as soon as possible. Yes, Bailiff'smelancholy and hallucinogenic streams of sound are ever-present and yesher voice is as angelic as ever, moving softly beneath the pluck ofacoustic guitars and amps filled with enough reverb to shake thewindows right out of the wall. What's different from her work is whatJesse Edwards, of Red Morning Chorus, brings to the table.
As far as Bailiff's last, eponymous release goes, there was a definite emphasis on repeating, overlapping structures and simple, melodic themes. Though never feeling stagnant, the pull of her repetitive chords and buzzing music was deceptively complex: the simplicity of the album was a huge part of its beautiful success. Seeing how the Northern Song Dynasty record was developed in the time leading up to that album, I'm surprised to find how much that emphasis is minimized.
From the second that "The Disappearance of Patrick Phillip" begins, it's fairly obvious that there's more waiting in the wings. The indefinite, hovering weight that the Northern Song Dynasty emulates is a compliment between Bailiff's ethereal approach and what must be Edwards' love for cerebral and hypnotic songcraft. There are repeating motifs and longing guitar work scattered throughout the record, they feel more restricted, however. The songs are tighter somehow, because whether or not a definite chorus or verse ever makes an appearance on the record, it feels like each leaves its mark. Where Bailiff's music progressed in subtle movements, Northern Song Dynasty announces its paradigms and slips into them with trumpets hailing the metamorphosis.
Edwards' voice is exciting, too, his low, humming style of singing harmonizes with Bailiff's voice effortlessly. When they sing together and heavily distorted guitars begin to buzz away behind them, it's as though they're trying to slip into the track unnoticed and make an escape, trying to make the music swallow them whole even as they spin the music together. When the music is stripped bare, leaving almost nothing but a voice and a guitar, Bailiff seems to stand out more often. It is on the heavy, electric outings that Edwards shines. As the songs move back and forth between each other, how well these two work together really begins to show and the whole album becomes a cohesive and shining work almost as though the whole thing was a magic trick. Despite being released in October, the album is entirely appropriate for the winter. Not because it is cold or particularly festive, but because it is a radiantly warm set of songs. This is the other significant difference between Bailiff's solo work and her collaborative efforts: her last album sounded very bleak at times, almost romantically resigned to a quiet suffering, but this sounds joyful, sometimes exuberant. "Those Days" almost pops out of the speakers at points when trails of celestial guitar funkiness spiral out of it like comets. Not to say there aren't sad moments or even heart aching ones, but it is the happy songs that stick out most for me and seem to pull the most weight on the album.
If you've never heard Jessica Bailiff or Jesse Edwards' work, then this might actually be the best place to start. The balance between desperation and happiness on this album might make it more attractive to some who have approached either's work and found it akin to reading Sylvia Plath. After enough exposure, neither sounds particularly cold and the subtle magic they both work on this record will permeate everything, making whatever darker themes are present seem less important than the sonic brilliance demonstrated in their work.
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Chalk has again walked a very fine line between complete abstraction and conscious identification. It's something that I feel only this genre is capable of and that Chalk, in particular, has managed to portray on Vega.Faraway Press
Vega is the brightest star in the constellation Lyra; it'd be easy to make some vacuum of space reference when talking about Andrew Chalk's music, but it wouldn't be very helpful or insightful. There are plenty of opinions that'll make every drone record sound the same because, apparently, they all have the same focus. All of them imitate the feeling of floating weightlessly, of being taken somewhere else and it is because they provide little context for the average listener to hold onto while navigating the often beat-less, melody-less grooves of whatever record it at stake. Well, if all of them sound the same, how is it that Chalk always sounds unique?
There are two answers.
The first one, the short one, is that the genre actually doesn't lend itself to homogeneity: it is more prone to being consistently different than just about any other genre barring noise. The other answer, the interesting one, is that Chalk steps a bit differently, proceeds with his sound in a fulfilling fashion, and somehow works with his sound more like a composer than anyone else. I can imagine him toying with his sounds like they're clay, shaping them to make an architecture or to plan an entire geographic region. Every release Chalk has seems to produce this same effect, this sense of a musician as sculptor.
Vega opens up a space without a doubt, but the feeling it produces is like sound trying to find its borders. As the album begins the entire sound is bathed in a kind of blind stupor, sounds traveling aimlessly for minutes at a time before the distinct impression of a bell is made clear. As the record progresses over its three movements, the overall structure of the album becomes more acute despite being composed of broad strokes and impressionistic stabs of sound.
The most change occurs in tone, however, elevating the album from a tomb-like sound to the hum of the open air. Conceptually the whole album sounds like a liberation from architecture and a step away from the tight, always very centered sound that Chalk employs. Whatever the case, Vega has that static and rolling sound in its first half and then slowly dissolves, revealing a subterranean process that might've been working throughout the whole album.
Once the mood lightens up, Chalk moves into new territory for me. None of what I've heard by him, even his work in Mirror, has ever sounded this free and random. He manages to maintain a hint of the thematic developed early in the album but slowly moves away from it until, at the very end, a completely new dynamic has emerged. The album is, for a time, tightly wound and dependent upon itself for tension, but the release generated at the end is almost vertiginous in its upward movement. There's a double effect taking place for the duration of the record, then. The sounds on the album become more obvious and take a definite shape throughout the whole album, even as the tone lightens up and the structure of the album becomes more indefinite and effervescent. It's hard to imagine but amazing to hear.
This is a change for Chalk, though, and it's a subtle step he's taken away from his earlier solo recordings. I imagine fuller and more extreme transitions are on the way.
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"Spirit of Talk Talk" is a finely crafted and lavishly produced book celebrating the music created by Talk Talk and illustrated with a treasure trove of images from long-time collaborator and renowned art designer James Marsh. Displayed alongside large original artworks and previously unseen sketches and alternative covers, are rare and previously unseen photographs of the band and a specially commissioned biography of Talk Talk by music journalist and author Chris Roberts. Photographic images have been supplied from the archives of photography luminaries Lawrence Watson, Richard Haughton and Sheila Rock amongst others.
The book includes the full transcript of Mark Hollis's final interview about the band and numerous tributes and eulogies from musicians, artists, producers, and people who worked with the band and knew them intimately. There are also honest, touching, and revealing tributes from musicians, artists friends and fans who were, and continue to be, influenced by Talk Talk's music.
This is the first book on the band, and is the brainchild of designer, fashion entrepreneur and long term fan Toby Benjamin. It has been created by and for fans and friends of Talk Talk.
More information can be found here.
This is a landmark album in the Acid Mothers Temple oeuvre for a variety of reasons, but not all of them are good.  On the positive side, Cotton Casino has returned to the fold and Kawabata Makoto and company have ambitiously stepped out of their comfort zone to attempt a "true electric jazz album" in homage to Miles Davis' 1970 masterpiece.  Unfortunately, the end result of their bold experiment is a bit of an exhausting, self-indulgent, and muddled mess.
Despite my historic cautiousness and skepticism towards Kawabata Makoto's work, I actually plunged into this album with pretty high expectations.  I love Bitches Brew, so the idea of Davis' vision colliding with AMT's deranged psychedelic chaos seemed like it had a lot of potential.  Also, the cool cover art, the return of Cotton Casino, and the sheer volume of material here (it is a double album) seemed to indicate that this would be major artistic statement of sorts.  And it seemed like it was...initially.
At the very least, Tsuyama Atsushi and Higashi Hiroshi do an impressive job replicating the queasily over-processed sax and distinctive synth sound of the original.  In fact, I found myself kind of loving the opening title track when the rhythm section kicked in with a heavy disco groove.  Unfortunately, my excitement curdled by the song's halfway point and never, ever recovered.  The nadir came when Stoo Odom repeatedly exclaimed "son of a bitches brew!" and cackled maniacally, but that was merely one in a host of many serious shortcomings and bad ideas (a category in which I include the wince-inducing, sophomoric humor of the song titles).
The insurmountable, fundamental flaw that torpedoes the entire album is that Son of a Bitches Brew is essentially 75-minutes of everybody in the band wildly soloing and making weird burbling noises at once.  There is none of the space, structure, and sensuousness of the original, just unending cacophonous squall.  The rhythm section intermittently elevates the disjointed noodling into something much better by sometimes locking into a barreling groove, but the album's unusual mixing significantly weakens the drums' impact.  That is a serious problem, as some raw, visceral power could made these songs a lot more enjoyable.  Finally, and most exasperatingly, this album is not actually much of a diversion from what I expect from Acid Mothers Temple: there is certainly a lot more soloing and freedom, but it is still basically a heavy psych-rock album peppered with more beat-less, structureless freak-outs than usual (and a sax thrown in).
That said, I suspect that this album will be very polarizing and that many, many people will disagree with me.  Acid Mothers Temple's insanity, explosiveness, and excess can be very endearing at times and Son of Bitches Brew might be a high-water mark in all three regards.  To my ears, however, it is mostly a one-dimensional, senseless regurgitation of AMT's usual spew of space-y whooshing and guitar noise that drags on for well over an hour with little perceptible variation (albeit with somewhat higher artistic pretensions than usual).  I honestly do not know how anyone could listen to this album in its entirety.
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En's 2010 debut (The Absent Coast) was pretty much universally regarded as a great drone album, finding a nice balance between Stars of the Lid-style shimmering bliss and subtly harsh crackle and hiss.  Happily, their latest album repeats that formula, but takes all of their impulses a bit further: the harsh parts are harsher and the dreamy parts are even dreamier. Although it may not be not quite as uniformly solid as its predecessor, the highlights are a bit more impressive.
It is quite hard to isolate and articulate what makes Maxwell Croy and James Devane's work as En so enjoyable, as their aesthetic is superficially quite similar to that of many other artists currently making ambient drone music.  Already Gone does not boast a particularly innovative approach, clever source material, or a compelling back-story, but En simply have a distinct talent for quietly making fragile, sublime, and subtly moving music (a trait they share with the aforementioned Stars of the Lid).  I guess that should not be surprising though, as Croy has clearly spent years honing his ear for great abstract electronic music while co-running the Root Strata label.  Devane's background is a little more mysterious, as practically all I know about him is that he did a classical guitar cover of one of my favorite Aphex Twin songs ("Rhubarb").  That might not sound like much, but it instantly made me predisposed to like him.
I suppose this one of those albums where the magic lies in the details, as En make a number of minor tweaks to the expected drone tropes.  Some of them are merely curious, like the unexpectedly prominent use of recognizable rock instrumentation (a bass) or the appearance of a koto in "The Sea Saw Swell," but others are much more fundamental to Already Gone's success.  Probably the most significant is that the duo conjure up beautifully warm and shimmering beds of sustained drones, but never let them completely take over a piece's focus.  Instead, they merely provide a spacious and welcoming backdrop for a more ambitious melodic motif.
Also, much like kindred spirits Damian Valles and Marielle Jakobsons, Croy and Devane have a knack for texturally balancing their blissed-out ambiance with sharper, more organic sounds.  This is especially effective in "Marble Steppe" and the title piece, as the bowed, metallic sounds cut through the surrounding drone fog to impressively raw and emotive effect.  En display a deep and intuitive understanding of how to present their ideas so that they are affecting and meaningful without being too blunt about it, which is incredibly difficult in drone music: obvious "hooks" can be ruinous for repeat listening.
My favorite among the shorter pieces on the album is "The Sea Saw Swell," as it features a beautifully quavering motif that sounds like a processed singing saw, but a strong case could be made for most of the others as well.  All are eclipsed by album's centerpiece, however: the closing 19-minute "Elysia" is as long as the entire rest of the album combined and is essentially a highlight reel of everything En does wonderfully.
"Elysia" begins with a blurry and melancholy descending melody (accompanied by little more than field recordings of distant birds and gently lapping water) before seamlessly drifting through passages of rippling processed electric guitar, angelic ambiance, and crackling and rumbling catharsis on its way to a tenderly twinkling coda.  It is an absorbing, beautifully constructed piece from start to finish and ends the album on a very high note.  In fact, it practically is the album, as it makes the shorter, simpler pieces seem kind of like bonus tracks by comparison.  From a sequencing standpoint, I found that a little perplexing, but I like most of them enough to prefer the idea of a very good, oddly constructed album to a near-perfect one-song EP.
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The most recent solo incarnation of pioneer Campbell Kneale (Birchville Cat Motel, Black Boned Angel, et al.), this is the definitive OLWDTW release spanning two discs. Thousands Raised To The Sixth is masterful exploration of texture and washes of sound that are strangely melodic and percussive. Nobody can reinvent himself with sound like Kneale, and this release shows him at his best yet.
Edition: 500 2xCD, oversized 5.5" fold out card with two art inserts, each disc in a black envelope, and placed in a slim slip cover.
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There is no denying that Kawabata Makoto is an uncompromising and unique artist, but the sheer volume and unbridled excess of his work as Acid Mothers Temple has been yielding diminishing returns for me for quite some time.  Consequently, I always look forward to his more experimental and intimate diversions, such as this uneasy, drone-heavy collaboration with enigmatic Japanese accordionist à qui avec Gabriel. The two musicians make an inspired and complementary pairing, but Golden Tree does not entirely avoid some of Makoto's more irksome tendencies.
Kawabata's greatest strengths have always been spontaneity, enthusiasm, imagination, and his very free, "anything goes" approach to his music, so it is no surprise that Golden Tree's three pieces sound like improvisations rather than compositions.  Thankfully, he and à qui avec Gabriel seem to have quite a comfortable chemistry, even if it sometimes veers into somewhat risky and puzzling territory as the album unfolds.  The two certainly have no misgivings about lingering in the precariously no-man's land between "self-indulgent" and "boldly innovative."
The album's first piece, "A Sacred Tree at Nemi," however, plays things relatively straight, embellishing the abstract moans and shimmering drones of Makoto's guitar with sustained accordion swells and à qui avec Gabriel's ghostly, ritualistic-sounding vocals.  It is an excellent piece, but it does not stray terribly far from the established drone template, aside from its subtly uncomfortable dissonance.
The proceedings get significantly weirder during the epic, 35-minute centerpiece, "Solid Torus," which starts off in pointillist, lurching fashion before plunging into its long, strange trajectory in earnest.  Even after several listens, I still do not know quite what to make of it.  I can definitely say that it is bloated, schizophrenic, and meandering though.  And that Makoto and his foil sometimes seem to be playing two very different songs.  As unpromising as that might sound, however, it ends up being perversely compelling and definitely seems deliberate rather than accidental.
For her part, à avec qui Gabriel's playing is often surprisingly straightforward and melodic, but it sounds tense and unnerving when coupled with Kawabata's subtly ugly and shrill bed of dissonantly clashing drones.  The overall effect is like a somewhat unhappy accordionist grudgingly attempting to serenade young lovers outside a Parisian cafe, but being nearly drowned out by someone blasting a Birchville Cat Motel record next door.  I can honestly say that I have not experienced anything quite like that before, so the piece is ultimately successful despite its flaws.
The duo save their most unqualified triumph for last, however.  The evocatively titled "A Priest of Nothingness Under the Moon" is deceptively simple, yet remarkably effective.  It is essentially built upon a very minimal, fragile, and endlessly repeating plucked guitar motif and not much else, but its nagging insistence holds the piece together beautifully amidst the unfolding melancholy accordion improvisations and anguished guitar moans and howls.  I have no idea how Makoto managed to get some of these sounds, as he is only credited with guitar and it sometimes sounds like someone viciously bowing a distorted cello–it gets pretty visceral.  Also, à avec qui Gabriel's intermittent angelic vocals are harshly distorted in a very appealing way.
Ending the album on such a focused, cathartic, and emotionally resonant note necessarily makes the other pieces seem comparatively a bit baggy and wandering, but such a crescendo makes for a very satisfying album sequence-wise.  Also, there is no way "Priest" would have had the same impact if the preceding 45-minutes had been similarly raw, so I have to conclude that Kawabata and his mysterious accordionist friend knew exactly what they were doing, even if they took a sometimes puzzling route getting to their destination.  Golden Tree occasionally seems to overstay its welcome or have trouble finding its way at various points, but it ultimately coheres into quite a fine and unusual whole.
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A collaboration between G. Stuart Dahlquist (formally of Burning Witch) and prolific French composer Philippe Petit is sure to elicit some dark, disturbing imagery, and on that front, Empires Should Burn definitely does not disappoint. With guest vocals from Edward Ka-Spel, Jarboe, and Bryan Lewis Saunders, the resulting album is a dark, though not impenetrable slab of metal hued experimental sound collage.
"Vocalists" is a designation used loosely in terms of this album, since all three artists' contributions are most closely aligned with spoken word performances, with each artist supplying their own texts.Ka-Spel's "And Empires Will Burn" is the most engaging in my opinion:comprising almost half of the disc's duration, the 23 minute performance melds clanging gamelan-like metal percussion and grimy noise textures that slowly creep along.The backing track makes slow, cautious changes throughout to keep variation, but not detract from the narration.
Ka-Spel's calm, dramatic delivery of his performance adds to the creepiness of both his words and the sound surrounding it.The two are in perfect harmony, where the words never overshadow the music nor vice versa.The narrative is absent for around the final third of the piece, where the sound takes the focus, increasing the amount of change and variation to be heard.
"The Star Implodes" pairs Jarboe's understated readings with clattering guitars and found sounds to excellent effect.Compared to many of the pieces on here, there is a greater sense of light and space to be heard, even if it is only hinted out."A Vision"'s reading by Lewis Saunders has an intentionally stilted, uncomfortable cadence to his whispered voice that just heaps on the discomfort.
There are two instrumental pieces included as well, which meld in perfectly with the overall fell of the album."Sweet Dreams Asshole" takes distant chiming bells and a creepy layer of noise, both of which could be cliché but instead come across quite effective in channeling a dark, sinister mood that is only exacerbated by Dahlquist's seemingly wordless snarls."Apocryphatic_Ally" follows Jarboe's performance to close the album, and plunges it again into darkness with cautious restraint; electronic tinged noises abound but never lose a natural, uncomfortable organic feel.
I am usually not one fond of spoken word performances, as I feel too often they come across not only as pretentious, but also tend to overshadow any musical accompaniment they might have.On Empires Should Burn, they feel less like that traditional style, but more like a collection of ghost stories with sonic accompaniment.The fact that both the words and music are captivating is no easy task, and I can’t think of any time it worked so well other than Velvet Underground's "The Gift" or Wire's "The Other Window."
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