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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For his installment in the Utech URSK series, Justin Broadrick's earliest project channels some of his older dark ambient work under that moniker, but also brings up some of his earliest days of harsh noise and power electronics as well, making for some of the rawest Final work that he’s released yet.
Utech
The overdriven bass crunch and inorganic feedback that opens "Slow Air" is definitely in league with the early Whitehouse and other power electronics bands that influenced a 13 year old Broadrick into starting his own project, which later reappeared in the mid 1990s as a dark ambient/isolationist project. It doesn’t rise to painful levels, but stays raw and sludgy.
Both "Caved" and "Disordered" stay in this noisy domain, the former based on shrill blasts of noise and slowly flanged squeals while the latter stays crunchy and rhythmic, while pulses of white noise and feedback shows up. It’s not an entirely harsh work at all, but definitely is rough and murky, even by Final’s standards.
"Fearless Systems” is more of a mixed piece, there’s overdriven pulses and analog crunches, but there is also delicate, pure guitar playing that eventually begins to make itself known, a bit of beautiful sticking the muck and mire of clipping noise. While the album as a whole does tend to focus on the darker and grimier elements, they don’t stay in the noisier territory the whole time.
The bass heavy and metric ton of reverb on "Subterrane" feels largely reminiscent of the 1990s Final output, especially 2, which remains one of my all time personal favorite dark ambient releases, though the stabs of feedback and guitar make it feel a bit different, and the digital sheen on it reflects the ten years of technological growth since then. The swarming, alien insect chirps of "Inanimate Air" also wouldn’t be out of place on some of Broadrick’s earlier experimental works.
The closing title track is the most subtle of them all, a more sparse recording of melancholy tones that close the album on a distinctly somber note. Personally, I think this is a more diverse and varied recording than some of the more recent output, including the somewhat patchy Three album. While not quite the greatness that was 2, or the Urge/Fail 7", it is still a great disc, regardless.
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Since childhood Perhacs has composed music using elements from her visualization of sound (color frequencies, musical shapes, etc,...). This cult album from 1970 combines ethereal folk with flourishes of electronics and spacey jazz. Eight bonus tracks, fascinating notes, and sketches make this a worthwhile reissue.
A glance at the cover of Parallelograms will bring the words "hippy" and "LSD" to mind. But take a closer look and you'll see that the beauty wandering the meadow in a mini-dress is wearing sensible shoes. The truth is that in the late 1960s everyone didn't drop-out and some people didn't need drugs to expand their mind. Take Linda Perhacs. She was a career-oriented dental hygienist in Beverly Hills when she met film composer Leonard Rosenman, and his wife, Kay, who recognized and encouraged her creativity. As Perhacs says, "even as a tiny child, I have seen musical tones and colors as twins (and they are twins vibrationally in physics). Along with this I would see complex chronological patterns that moved up and changed rapidly like Irish dancers." Is "vibrationally" a word? It is now.
At the time of meeting the Rosenman's, Perhacs was married to a like-minded sculptor and designer who shared her love of the getting out into the invigorating wildness of nature. Perhacs had homemade tapes of her "little campfire songs" and one listen to the song "Parallelograms" was enough for Leonard Rosenman to offer to produce an album for her. His liking for atonal sounds tempered her delicate musings. Perhacs wrote some new songs and recording was done at night while she kept her day job. "Dolphin" was inspired by diving in California. "Hey, Who Really Cares" (co-written with Oliver Nelson) would become the theme tune for the TV series Matt Lincoln. Meanwhile, in a not-uncommon tale, her record company failed to promote the album but, even worse, changed the running order and pressed the disc so badly that she threw her copy away. No one offered another deal so Perhacs concentrated on other things, like dental hygiene and going out to the country, presumably.
There's another picture of Linda Perhacs inside the booklet. Taken in 1995 she is glowing with health: her hair is dark, her teeth are dazzling white (no surprise there). Relaxed and happy in her white sweater and skirt she looks like I imagine Wonder Woman might look at the end of an idyllic vacation in Ireland! A clue to how she has survived in such fine fettle perhaps lies in the way that she has taken pain and disgust and turned them into something positive and uplifting. For example, her song "Paper Mountain Man" addresses a former lover who was too liberal with his love and "Porcelain Baked-Over Cast-Iron Wedding" is her response to her repulsion at the grandeur and sheer cost of Beverly Hills weddings. In Perhacs' hands, both sound like lovely songs with a slightly sharp edge. Clearly this is a woman who knows about balance and nature. Her honest quotes about music making and her non-trendy life have a sincerity and openness that are as refreshing and dignified as her music. Good vibrations; worth picking up.
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Much to the chagrin of bloated record labels and those authoritarian grumps at the RIAA, young people today have near instantaneous and essentially free access to virtually any song thanks to the proliferation of torrents and other file sharing schemes. That brazen attitude inevitably had to expand to music composition, though, as this album proves, that might not be entirely for the best.
Unlicensed “warez” of music production software have existed for well over a decade, initially traded by impoverished young musicians eager to express themselves. Yet in the same way that the concept of Napster exploded into the multi-channel bootleg phenomenon bringing the music business to its knees, so too has the appropriation of that ethos come to those who wish to make music. And while I lack any proof of Zeller’s complicity in the aforementioned illegal behavior, his place in this generation of thieves is cemented by this unbearably jejune and hackneyed debut.
Much like Bomb 20's unparalleled proto-breakcore classic Field Manual, released a decade prior, the suitably named Audio Vandalism egregiously swipes long passages from films and television programs to bolster his album. Yet unlike the Digital Hardcore zealot, Zeller's wholesale appropriation lacks the former's vibrant anarchist spirit that transformed disparate speech samples into fresh linguistic conversions and distillations not unlike William Burroughs' cut-up method. In its stead lie a novice producer’s desperate attempts to fill in yawning gaps of his unexceptional, indistinct tracks. Buried under the weight of an excessive break overstuffed with generic movie dialogue, "Thor Theory" serves as the most glaring example of this half-assedness. While one could generously credit Zeller with upholding the sampling traditions of 80s and 90s industrialists, the material here suffers from such a dearth of originality that I cannot, in good conscience, even offer that consolation prize to such colorless, unsubstantial sonics.
Regrettably, the mad borrowing doesn't end there. Zeller's derivative sound loots the marketplace of musical ideas, pilfering from distorted dubsteppers like Milanese and Vex'd (“Hell Train”) and mugging IDM elders whose names need not be mentioned to drive home my point. It's difficult to draw a line between influence and exploitation, but like former Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart wrote about pornography, I know it when I see it. In this case, I hear it in “Cavern Sunshine” and “Macbooking,” poorly executed facsimiles of distorto-glitch gods Gridlock and Synapscape respectively. Even the tribal rhythms of This Morn Omina get ripped off on closer "Doom The Drummer." I find it especially distasteful that, after all this time, power noise painted itself into such a corner that Hymen would release something this obnoxious and plagiaristic. Someone ought to inform Zeller that talent cannot be downloaded, legally or illegally. I suppose I just did.
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When this EP first came out it made little sense to me. The six songs were recorded during the same session as Copper Blue but the sound was completely different. The sound was rather grim, there were no happy singalongs, the vocals were buried (if present at all), and I didn't quite understand if it was attempting to be religious statement or not. Nineteen years later, a cleaned up master and back story makes a world of distance as it almost completely makes sense now.
The music industry moves much faster in the United Kingdom than it does here in the United States and the monsterous success of Copper Blue in the UK resulted in Creation's pressure for a second Sugar release to keep the momentum going in the very fickle press and UK market. Even though in 1993 I had plenty of music from Creation acts (Slowdive, MBV, Primal Scam, etc,...) Rykodisc was Sugar's US home and Creation never seemed to be a factor. Listening now, years later, it comes as no surprise to read liner notes from Creation employees claiming this to be their favorite release. It was the closest Mould has ever come to making a shoegaze record!
The simple acoustic strumming, distorted-but-lyrical guitar hook, and ghostly faint vocals of the opening "Come Around" could easily be a dead ringer for a Ride tune while "Tilted," the EP's single, is a furious rush of energy, a mass of guitars wrapped in a speedy tune owing much to Mould's punk roots.
The middle pair of songs, "Judas Cradle" and "JC Auto" make up what is allegedly the religious component of the record—Beaster was released on Easter in 1993 and its title is obviously a pun on the name of the holiday—but I personally don't see any deep meanings in the words of "Judas Cradle." Lyrically, "JC Auto," on the other hand, seems to have two themes going on: one being Mould's self-reflection and the chorus being a struggle with the pressure of being popular as he was. Reading about the constant demands on the group as a recording, touring, and press entity provides a bit of justification for this song as Mould would lash out with this song live, dragging "I'm Not Your Jesus Christ" into the song repeatedly, stretching "JC Auto" to be about twice as long.
In this light, Beaster was a release: a yin to the yang. David Barbe, the bassist, is quoted in the accompanying booklet that the inside joke was that Copper Blue was the band Sugar, while Beaster was the band named "Spice."
Rounding out the album is the deliciously bloated poppy ditty "Feeling Better," and the serene "Walking Away." Despite the tacky synth horn sounds, the former kicks some serious ass with the heavy riffage, chunky bass, and monstrous drums (with cowbell in all the right spots). The latter is an absolutely gorgeous and dreamy drum/guitar/bass-free cathedral organ based love song with very few lyrics and a lot of emotion.
The sound of the remaster is nothing short of stunning. I no longer regard Besaster as a muddy mess, as I can now hear the individual instruments and layers much, much clearer. Accompanying the CD on this Edsel version is a DVD featuring the music video for "Tilted," and four songs recorded live at the XFM Great Expectations show at Finsbury Park in 1993.The Beaster remastered audio will be included on the Copper Blue remaster package due from Merge later this month but as I said in the Copper Blue review, it is quite its own beast and I don't feel any regret jumping for the import version.
This long unavailable album marks an important step in the development of Drew Daniel and MC Schmidt's music in that it is the first themed album of many in their career, which is one of the defining features that makes Matmos so interesting. Anyone can try and be clever with quirky samples but with The West, Matmos rose above using novelty sounds just for the sake of them. At this point they became an intellectually challenging but still musically compelling entity.
The idea of the American West is as strong an inspiration and mythology as you can get (especially so in these last few years when the western movie has made such a revival). Many artists have taken on the aesthetic of the campfire song or the Morricone-esque desert soundscape; The Residents did a masterful rendition of old cowboy songs during their Cube-E period; and more recently Earth have reinvented themselves as some kind of doomy country band. Matmos, no strangers to themed releases, undertook a similar task around ten years ago. However, it is not immediately obvious from just listening to the music that they are doing an album influences by country music.
The opening piece, “Last Delicious Cigarette,” wanders around in what sounds like a normal mode of working for Daniel and Schmidt but far from anyone else’s idea of what the West should sound like; A jerky dance beat of squeaky electronic sounds and a pulsing bass synth rhythm. Then it hits; five minutes in and a dizzy violin sound takes over from the electronic blips and whirrs. Immediately a tension is present that is utterly familiar: There is a good guy and a bad guy, the one with the fastest draw wins. Matmos turns the table yet again and rather than end with a bang, the track fizzles out instead. From here on in, The West lives up to its title.
The music shifts from campfire acoustic strumming to banging electronic jams. On the title track, a fantastic electronic beat suddenly drops into a quiet, slow slide guitar passage. It should be a jarring shift but it works brilliantly. Rhythms and moods traditionally associated with men in big hats riding horses are co-opted by Daniel and Schmidt and turned into that quirky dance-come –concrète style that they alone seem capable of pulling off. From reading the sleeve notes, even the most musical parts of The West seem not to have been planned. Much of the instrumentation was recorded as repayment for bunking at Chateau Matmos for use by the pair at a later date. The playing of their house guests was supplemented by David Pajo, who mailed plenty of fantastic guitar playing to the duo. His guitar frequently sounds like it was taken straight from some classic cowboy movie and provides a solid stylistic base for the album.
The West is a bona fida classic and it is criminal that it has been unavailable for so long. Now that the situation has been redressed, I can only hope that the earlier singles/EPs will be collected and thus get most of the early Matmos recordings back in print (and it would be nice to hear the shelved People Like Us collaboration that was due to come out before the PLU/Matmos live album). In the meantime, I am going to be playing the hell out of this album and making up for lost time.
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This long unavailable album marks an important step in the development of Drew Daniel and MC Schmidt's music in that it is the first themed album of many in their career, which is one of the defining features that makes Matmos so interesting. Anyone can try and be clever with quirky samples but with The West, Matmos rose above using novelty sounds just for the sake of them. At this point they became an intellectually challenging but still musically compelling entity.
Artist: Hirsute Pursuit
Title: Tighten That Muscle Ring
Catalogue No: CSR158CD
Barcode: 8 2356650672 0
Format: CD in 6-panel digifile
Genre: Gay / Industrial / Experimental
Shipping: Now
Music that smells like a man!
“I play Hirsute Pursuit at all of my DJ gigs” (Peter Christopherson)
"Tighten That Muscle Ring" features collaborators such as Bryin Dall of Thee Majesty, Boyd Rice of NON and Sleazy of Coil / Throbbing Gristle.
The music is real. The sex is real.
Created by Harley Phoenix and his musical partner, Bryin Dall, this is Gay Sex Music that offers no apologies. Enticing rhythms combined with raw sex and a commanding, deep, resonate voice, Harley has transformed explicit instructions for serving his pleasure into a musical orgy that hits the gay community where it plays, the dance floor and the bedroom. Sleazy dance beats pound along at tempos that encourage carnal exploration, while sounds of ecstasy cannot be ignored. You will be thinking Cock Thoughts (a song from the first album, That Hole Belongs to Me).
After starting with a MySpace page Hirsute Pursuit has become THE MOST PLAYED GAY MUSIC ON MYSPACE. Typical letters from fans tell Harley that after listening to his music, they HAD to go “get off”. While fans have been pleading for photos, Harley refuses to give in. Understanding the restraints of reality, Harley remains in the shadows, making Hirsute Pursuit the ultimate in musical fantasy.
Without any publicity or releases, Hirsute Pursuit has had over 140,000 plays in less than a year! Drawing fans from all musical genres, including House, Country, Rock, Hip Hop, etc. Primarily attracting a gay audience, recent fans also include female dominatrixes, middle-class housewives and straight guys (as is evidenced in the video, Boys Keep Swinging featuring Boyd Rice and James Pope, both straight). The raw sensuality has now crossed over into the heterosexual domain.
This is music you can fuck to, as well as bump and grind.
Harley Phoenix is currently preparing Hirsute Pursuit's live show experience which will include actual musicians, dancers and video to give the audience members a complete sensory explosion.
Comes in a 6-panel digisleeve.
Tracks: 1. Boys Keep Swinging | 2. You're Here To Pleasure Me | 3. One Sleazy Night In Bangkok | 4. Daddy Bear | 5. My Pleasure | 6. Big Time | 7. Fuck | 8. My Pretty Pink Hole
| 9. Slow Ride In Kentucky | 10. One Sleazy Night In New Orleans | 11. My Pleasure House
| 12. Fuck - Pounding Mix | 13. My Pleasure House - Pleasuregate Mix
23five
This two-disc compilation coincides with last year's SFMOMA exhibit ofthe same name, a "listening event documenting the past 18 years ofJapanese experimental music," though this recording features mostlyelectronic-oriented material from the past few years. Despite this, itsbreadth is exceptional and some of the tracks are unreleased, so it'sexcellent both for collectors or as an introduction.
Noise, of course, is a focal point, and each of the several noisepieces are quite distinct—Pain Jerk's track is a rumbling, rhythmicassault in contrast to Masonna's brighter vocal and synth-drivenfreakout. The Otomo Yoshihide track, consisting only of high frequencyguitar feedback, is easily the toughest; he exploits the subtleinteraction of two tonally pure sustained notes, holding them foruncomfortable lengths of time. It's interesting and challenging but Iprefer his more dynamic work.
Other tracks range from minimalist-inspired rhythmic clicks, such asthe Nerve Net Noise, Atau Tanaka, and Ryoji Ikeda tracks, which allmanage to distinguish themselves with their detailed but disarminglysimple tonal palettes, to more abstract, juxtaposed medleys. MasahiroMiwa's contribution uses plaintive low-fi synths to establish tension;though the sounds are light and playful, the overall feel is heavy andworks well with his stated topic of youth violence in Japan. I likeI.d.'s supposedly "hacker"-inspired piece. Its discrete bundles ofstatic and waves of digital noise sound almost like information, and itslowly develops into something vaguely repetitive and structured.
The compilation also features a few notable older but forward-lookingpieces. Yasunao Tone's track is about contrasts: beauty and ugliness aswell as ancient and modern, combining gorgeous flute playing and anoisy synth that sounds like the creaking of a door. The music stopsperiodically for an NPR-type voice to read some semi-decent poetry;although the track is long and generally simple, it's still engagingand I love the flute playing.
The Kazuo Uehara composition, dating back to 1988, has the mostimpressive sounds on the disc. It begins with some quiet, indeterminateevents and some mumbled French with a cavernous echo, and the vocalsgrow increasingly processed and alien. Stunning woodwind-like dronesbuild towards an organ-like range and later into hauntingly serenehowling and whistling. The ground that this compilation covers, as awhole, is amazing, and it definitely reaffirms the brilliance ofJapanese musical innovation.
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Wonder
A ski weekend in Vermont sounded like the perfect get-away for theweekend. All your friends packed up and headed north. You left in adifferent car because you had room for everybody's gear, but they leftat the same time and followed closely behind. Night fell and a blizzardcame in out of nowhere. You arrived safely at the remote cabin on thelake but the electricity is completely out and the other car hasn'tarrived yet. It's been hours. The snow outside has not eased up as itis visibly getting deeper and deeper. You light another candle and tryto keep warm but the firewood is running very, very low. In contrast tothe band's name, 'Black Earth' is an album of implicit tension andsuspense, much like a Hitchcock film, completly unlike slasher films,filled with explicit scenes of blood and gore. (You haven't found theirbloody, cold, dead bodies yet but you know to fear the worst!) Theatmosphere is so thick with tension that even if you're listening tothis album in the brightest moments of daytime, the slightest externalsound can make you jump a mile. Despite its painfully goth appearance,the sound is Twin Peaks-like Labradford-inspired jazz: instrumentalwith slow shuffling drums, heavy Rhodes keyboards, piano, double-bassand saxophone. It's a marvelous treat, thrilling enough that even longafter listening, I get lumps in my throat just thinking of it.
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Kranky
After two impressive albums recorded with Alan and Mimi of Low, Jessicacomes home with her third album —recorded at home with Jesse Edwards,her bandmate in Red Morning Chorus and Northern Song Dynasty. Therecord has a much more intimate feel than any she's recorded, with aneye towards more acoustic arrangements and a bit more experimentation.Everything sounds sparse or barren, far more than other releases have,like there's a stark loneliness or quiet that is being explored on eachtrack. Often times it all sounds brittle, even, as it feels like ifthese songs are pushed like she has in the past, emitting any noisethat is too harsh, it will all come crashing down. Bailiff's voice isas assured and sultry as ever, and the treatments on a few tracks evenelevate it, making it sound firmly otherworldly. All these ingredientsmake for her most engaging release yet. "Swallowed" is classic Bailiff:steady rhythm with small flourishes and the desperate call of "If onlyyou'd hold me and say it's all right." "Hour of the Traces," with theviolin-uke melody and percussion that sounds like taps on an acousticguitar, is hauntingly pure and pained, even as a happy tin whistle,faded in the mix, plays along. Finally, on "Disappear," the roar comesin and the volume increases and the guitar distorts seemingly intooblivion with computer voice back-up to hold it all in. The albumcloses with the piano-based "The Thief," a lamenting chorus of voicessinging behind Bailiff as the song progresses. It's a gorgeous moment,where I felt Bailiff stepping out of herself.
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Tigerbeat6
Numbers might not be an electronic laptop band, but like nearlyeverything else on the TB6 label, it is fun, addictive, silly, andsickingly dancable. This trio of youngsters from the Bay Area consistof a Moog player, guitarist and a front-stage drummer who controls theworld. (All of which who sing.) While I'll be the first to admit Ididn't really get this band entirely on record, after seeing them liveI have been completely won over. Subsequently, the album sounds muchbetter now. Clocking in at just over 19 minutes, this ten-song recordhas got to be one of the most genuine releases of the year. The bandaddresses adult issues through the mind of a child, as the subjectmatter ranges from materialistic greed ("We Like Having Things") totechnology ("Intercom") and strained intrapersonal relations ("Too Coolto Say Hi"). The disjunct playing and off-tunings of the guitarseparate the group from the typical post-punk punks, almost as if threecomputer nerds were handed rock instruments and trained long and hardto play louder, faster, and more original than the bullies down thestreet. Training and practice payed off as the good kids did win thistime. Let's see how they do in the sequel.
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