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.
Get involved: subscribe, review, rate, share with your friends, send images!
The singular and painfully unprolific Diane Cluck is embarking upon a new project in which she will release a new song every week for six months.
Go here for more details.
Chicago’s Number None end up reworking two tracks from their own2004 3" CDR release Nervous Climates into two newpieces via the devolutions of Iowa’s Medroxy Progesterone Acetate’sside long remixes. The similarities to the original tracks are fleetingand buried as the barren landscapes of the originals are abused andbruised into extended storms on this cassette release.
Sloow Tapes
SolarKraken" begins with a difficult to interpret voice punched through witha mangled melodic snatch of a bashed electronic riff and it’s a goodthree minutes before the icy noise of the original reveals self. Evenso the sound is still one removed becoming a static ed up digging pulsewith segments of cold treble sailing over the top and the whole songhas a much more digital damaged feel than the organic drones of thesource material. Where "Polar Kraken" was the sound of the endlessflurries in the incalculable claustrophobia of the icecap’s snowydeserts, the reconstituted "Solar Kraken" is the sound and threat ofthe impossible emptiness of space. If space really did have an OST it'smore likely to be this than "The Blue Danube."
From a single‘systems engaged’ hum comes a intense near black noise dragging an offkilter crushing (possible) rhythm behind it like the backend of somejunkyard mechanical flying machine. Juddering along like the prematurerumblings of the blackest Metal I can only presume this one runs onfuels made from the bones of the working classes.
Side two’s“King of Dead" constantly detunes itself on a perilous knife edge offeedback that could just as easily be the screwed up highlights of asession of heavy guitar maltreatment. Even the slightest sound seems tobore holes in the brain as the shortwave cloud surrounds like a swarmof rodents giving off the sort off high pitch sounds that bypass theears and go straight to fucking up the eyes.
samples:
Always the serrated disco ball in the Digital Hardcore scene, Cobra Killer return with a bonkers album that walks the line between inspiration and the ridiculous. Gone are all the vocal effects and samplers and replacing them is Kapajkos, a mandolin orchestra.
Kapajkos work well with Cobra Killer's oddball, cartoon sound. Togetherthey have gone through the Cobra Killer back catalogue and havere-recorded their favorite tracks. Allof the songs are instantly recognizable yet sound completely differentto the original versions. Every element of these songs have beenreassembled using acoustic instruments, bringing more life andcharacter into them. Kapajkos have managed to get into the groove of thesongs and recreate all the blips and pings with a high degree offidelity. Songs like "Heavy Rotation" and "High is the Pine" suit thisstyle more than their original electronic versions.
Das Mandolinenorchester on one hand is kitsch andflamboyant and on the other hand it is incredibly catchy and elegant.Kapajkos bring an intricacy to the songs that (as good as they are) theoriginals lack. The folky eastern European music makes the lyrics soundeven more bizarre,especially the chant of "Helicopter! U.S. Navy! 666! Hey! Hey! Hey!" on“Helicopter 666”or the cautionary tale in "H-Man-And-Psychocat" of yourcat pissing all over the place as soon as you leave the house. Thisisn’t a fault by any means. I thought it madethe entire experience far more entertaining to hear these mad, childishlyrics being sung over duelling mandolins. The music is playful but also very grownup. This album injects some new life into Cobra Killer’s music whichwas in danger of becoming self-parody and formulaic.
Das Mandolinenorchester does not hang around long as it's onlyabout forty minutes long, any longer and the album mighthave gotten tedious but luckily Cobra Killer and Kapajkos have beenselective in compiling this album. It works well as an overviewof Cobra Killer's seven year career. They have released three good (butsomewhat samey) albums and a few singles and EPs on Alec Empire's DHRand Gudrun Gut's Monika label, both Berlin-based, which, unfortunately,has limited their fanbase.
Das Mandolinenorchesterlets a newcomer get into their weird world while offering a freshlisten for those familiar with the songs. Although two versions of“Mund auf augen zu” is a bit de trop but that’s a minor complaint at worst. Das Mandolinenorchester has renewed my interest in Cobra Killer and I’m looking forward to seeing what they do next.
samples:
This is the Brainwashed Readers Poll. Once again the Brainwashed Readers participated in the nominations and the voting rounds, and here we are with what has resulted. The writers don't all necessarily agree with the placement and rankings, but we have our last word in the comments we have provided.
Thanks to everyone who participated in the rounds and we wish everyone the best for 2012.
Album of the Year
Tim Hecker, "Ravedeath, 1972"
Andy Stott, "Passed Me By"
David Tibet
Over the last few years, I have had the pleasure of covering much of Current 93's music for Brainwashed and I cannot deny that every time a new release comes through my letterbox, I get that quiver of excitement I used to get so regularly as a teenager whenever my favorite band announced that they were releasing a new album/playing a show here/going to the supermarket/etc. David Tibet has created a musical oeuvre that out-strips most artists at any stage of their career; from the early noise and tape collage works (granted my least favorite of all Current 93's phases) through the golden, folky middle period to the hard rocking and transcendental big band of recent years, there is so much to take in and so much to love.
Honeysuckle Aeons from earlier this year (and its companion piece Drank Honeysuckle Aeons) brings a new light to Tibet's lyrics, the Coptic influences being born out more in the music.
As this album demonstrates, Tibet's influence goes far further than the music he has created. His scholarship (though largely in a field extremely remote from my own) is admirable and his work as an archivist and activist for unsung musical and literary figures knows few equals. Through his collaborations in Current 93 and his Durtro label I have discovered a whole world of musical loves and through his Durtro Press I have explored the works of authors that would otherwise have probably not popped up on my radar.
After traveling to London in 2010 to see Current 93 at their 25th anniversary shows, I can only hope that Tibet continues to have as much energy and enthusiasm for what he does. With his new project Myrninerest on the horizon, it looks like 2012 will fulfill that wish at the very least. I look forward to the new album and anticipate that the teenaged quiver of excitement will come over me again.
- John Kealy
I feel like it is a bit premature to give David Tibet a lifetime achievement award, but I cannot possibly think of a more deserving person. For one, he's responsible for two of my favorite albums of all time (All The Pretty Horses and Thunder Perfect Mind) and has made a career out of constantly challenging and reinventing himself without ever losing any intensity, depth, or intelligence. On a deeper level though, he's simply a fascinating and inspiring person; the very antithesis of the mundane. He has always seemed to pursue a singular, uncompromising, and constantly evolving vision without much concern for what is currently unfolding in the cultural landscape. More uniquely, he has the conviction and gravitas to deliver lyrics that would bury anyone else in an avalanche of ridicule and make them meaningful and profound ("somewhere over the rainbow, on the Good Ship Lollipop," for example).
The icing on the cake is that he also has great taste and has worked very hard to disseminate many wonderful things that few others have noticed (or have forgotten about). I probably never would've given Shirley Collins or Simon Finn a chance without him, nor would I probably have ever even heard of Count Stenbock or Louis Wain. He's also made antiquarianism, dead languages, and gnostic studies seem extremely cool. Not many people can boast that. It is truly rare to find someone in the modern world with such a combination of artistic honesty, intellectual curiosity, and altruistic enthusiasm.
- Anthony D'Amico
Sure, David Tibet is a long-time friend of Brainwashed and myself and there's a lot of Brainwashed readers who came to us because of their love of Current 93, but his contributions to music are much more vast than C93. David has performed the role of a professional music critic; ran a short lived fanzine; played in Psychic TV, 23 Skidoo, Nurse With Wound, and numerous other musical acts; has hosted guests like Nick Cave, Bjork, Sasha Grey, Marc Almond, Bonie Prince Billy, Christoph Heemann, Tiny Tim, Andrew WK, Ben Chasny, Clodagh Simonds, and countless more on his records and in his ensembles; publishes books; writes poetry; and has introduced the world to people like Antony and the Johnsons, Baby Dee, and others through his record labels. His love and support for music and literature is undying, bound to no single genre. He continues to be a force in the underground through his own music, which is continually evolving and transforming, and his generous support of the rare, noteworthy underdogs.
- Jon Whitney
David Tibet expanded not only my musical universe but my literary life as well. When I started delving into the albums of Current 93, I looked up as many the references as I could find and read the books that he loved, from Russell Hoban's Riddley Walker (a big influence on one of my favorite Current 93 albums, Of Ruine Or Some Blazing Star) to Lautreamont's Maldoror and the dark joys of Thomas Ligotti. The same is true for his musical tastes. I can't hardly imagine what my own musical life as a listener would be like if I hadn't been turned on by Tibet to the wonders of Shirley and Dolly Collins, to Comus, the Incredible String Band, and so many others. Tibet simply has excellent taste.
Tibet has always pursued a very personal vision. In the course of sharing that vision though he has championed the work of so many other musicians and artists I can't count them on my fingers and toes. In doing so he has alleviated much of the worlds audio poverty.
I also continue to be excited about his work. I'm very much looking forward to reading the collected works of Eric Count Stenbock which Tibet has poured so much energy into collecting and editing. I am also always eager to learn more about his Coptic studies and his contributions in that field. David's hypnagogic visual art, all the tiny scribblings of many moons and thieves ascending from crosses, is also stunning. It is obvious that he works hard with no signs of slowing down.
- Justin Patrick
Worst Album of the YearRefractor
Locus Suspectus
Spire 044
Edition of 200 Vinyl LP's.
Buy/Listen: www.underthespire.co.uk
All sound passed through a single synthesizer. Mixing, panning, decay, and
reverb manipulated within the instrument. This was to embrace the limitations
of one-take recordings with no additional editing.
Sawtooth waves of synthesized ramblings with Marshall McLuhan and Aldous Huxley in
mind. A Brave New World soundtrack to feed the connected one's insatiable appetite for
distraction.
This year, when playing with United Bible Studies or Che Chen and Robbie Lee, Jozef van Wissem's name has taken the spotlight, even though his collaborators have made essential contributions to his music. That's reasonable enough, especially in light of Jozef's aspirations for the lute and the excellent solo records he's released throughout 2011. It's worth noting, then, that the Smegma moniker comes before Jozef's name on Suite the Hen's Teeth. Irreverent at times, but absolutely in tune with van Wissem's theoretical desires, Ju Suk Reet Meate is perhaps the best partner Jozef has yet engaged. In fact, Meate is more a foil than a collaborator, challenging van Wissem's palette rather than bending to his baroque will.
On A Prayer for Light, Jozef tried baptizing his lute in the 21st century by keeping its presence simultaneously muted and conspicuous. Many of the strategies that made his solo efforts great were present, but they weren't privileged with the same space and reverence as on The Joy That Never Ends or Ex Patris. Instead, they were supplemented by other unusual instruments and strange phrases, which sometimes worked to highlight the lute's relatively simple textures and statements, but also transcended them. Still, even if Robbie Lee and Che Chen added much of the heresy to Jozef's free spirit, van Wissem's contributions held everything together thematically: the lute remained the star of the show.
That's not so true on Suite the Hen's Teeth. Jozef remains focused on rhythmic and melodic gravity, but this time that gravity is twisted and warped by Meate's unrepentant utterances, which all but ignore the lute's stately forms. At first, the mix of electric sounds and spliced together noises that Meate produces synchronizes perfectly with the palindromic plodding of van Wissem's lute, but as the record progresses, that accord breaks down.
Instead of holding Meate's bird sounds, vibraphones, and brass vibrations together, Jozef's lute bends to the point of breaking. With each passing minute, the music becomes more improvised, a process that culminates with "L’Air Américaine" and "Courante la Pommme d’Or." On both songs, van Wissem is forced to respond to Smegma's omnipresent onslaught of free-associative electronics with something other than the usual deconstructed lute phrases.
That description makes the music sound noisier and more cluttered than it actually is. The amount of space both performers give to their sounds is worth noting, and it helps make sense of the language they develop over the course of the record. Rather than compete with one another, they begin to share sonic nuances. At one point, Jozef manipulates his lute so that it sounds like a sped up tape machine, and it's not clear whether Jozef is playing the lute at all, or Smegma is altering it via his electronics.
If this sounds somewhat similar to A Prayer for Light, that's because both albums share the same basic form. There's an exposition of basic ideas, and then a whole lot of development based on varied textures and unexpected tangents. On Suite the Hen's Teeth, developing new reactions and creative exchanges are given priority over the instrumentation itself, and by the time the album ends, Jozef's lute has disappeared almost completely into an environment populated by constantly shifting instrumentation and improvised phrases.
If, initially, both musicians sound as though they're merely performing together, by the end of the album they've become extremely sensitive to each other; they exhibit a dynamic sympathy that depends on genuine communication, and not just on mutual soloing or predetermined forms. Each player's awareness of the other might read like an insignificant detail on paper, but on record it makes a tremendous difference.
samples:
 
Even though the concept and imagery of frigid weather has been done time and time again within drone and ambient music, Kevin Spence's take on it is able to transcended the expectations I had and present a haunting, glacial suite of songs that radiate a frozen stillness.
Recorded during the winter months between 2005 and 2009, the coldness of the surroundings clearly seeped into the tapes, such as on the expansive ambience and thick, icy synth pulses that make up the title track.During its eight minutes, the piece varies and evolves, but it definitely isn’t via quick edits or jumpy composition.
The snow metaphors are especially apt on "A Blizzard," which begins as shimmering waves of sound that slowly become heavier and more demanding, much like a snowstorm would produce."Cold Winds" is enshrouded by a layer of crackling snowflakes, as delicate, crystalline melodies intertwine in the distance.Again, a sense of cold stillness, but not fully frozen, with some good melodic evolution and development forming the focus of the track.
After the aptly titled "Melt," with its echoing percussive hints and slowly running water sounds, the overarching mood and feeling of the album changes to something a little less consistent, but still fitting."Drifting-Decent" feels warmer, with lighter sounds and distant echoes pushing the piece in a different direction."Losing Sleep" also goes in its own direction, pulling in a bassier sound and field recording loops, giving a quiet, but disorienting intensity.
The two closing pieces, "Space Station J" and "Cygnus," as expected, take a more astronomical/science fiction vibe in comparison to the rest of the album.Both have a more distant quality, feeling less organic and disconnected in comparison.Each have an odd intrusion:a tiny bit of guitar on the former and sampled voices on the latter.The guitar works, but the voices were more distracting overall (and the same with their use on the title track).
Living up to the album title and imagery, this debut physical release is an expansive world of icy beauty.While not a perfect record, as a compilation of material recorded over a five-year span, it feels rather cohesive.The thick, chilling tones make for a great accompaniment to the winter season.
samples:
 
Before establishing himself as a pioneer of organic electronic music via solo work and running the 12k label, Taylor Deupree was one of the leaders of the glitch sub-sub-genre of dance music. Here, three 12" singles from 2000-2001 are compiled, with a few bonus tracks, and demonstrate that even in those early days of his career, he could weave sounds together into tapestries that sound like no one else.
While I was never a zealous follower of the genre during its heyday, I must say that unlike many other forms of danceable music, Deupree’s work has stood the test of time, and doesn't sound extremely dated or "vintage."For example, the stiff beat and subtle clicks of "08-3" could be culled from an album recorded this year and it would still work just as well.
Admittedly, there is some similarity between Deupree’s work and contemporaneous stuff from the Chain Reaction label: a pinnacle of sparse, but danceable music.The 4/4 thump beat and aquatic house music synth stabs of the title track are reminiscent of Monolake and their ilk, but in a good way.The danceable chirps and squeaks of "Sp-Er" also fit this mold, coming together nicely but not having as much of an individual voice.
The best moments are when Deupree perverts the standard formula of the genre, such as the pairing of house elements with unnaturally processed, but rhythmic, sonic textures.It’s a combination that effortlessly straddles that line between the conventional and familiar, and the innovative.
What also becomes noticeable, listening to this after being familiar with his more recent work, is how elements of his current work crop up here and there amidst the thumping beats.For example, the oddly timbered music box loops of "3-8" convey that same electronic/organic synthesis of sound that he (and his label) do better than anyone else.
While many of these tracks are compositionally simple (and occasionally repetitive), they either have enough variation within them, or are short enough to not overstay their welcome.I personally think he did the right thing evolving his craft as he did, since sticking with this blueprint would have become tedious by now. As a window into the past, it is a great demonstration of an artist developing his craft, and a damn fine compilation as well.
samples:
 
The nights are getting longer and we will soon be at the shortest day of the year so it is just the right time to crack out Petr Vastl’s Winter Solstice. Lunar, jet black and beautiful, this is one best realized works of Vastl’s in his career. Beginning and ending in hushed reverence, he captures the strange vibes and ethereal magic of that one special night and turns it into some of the most beguiling music that bears the name Aranos.
Starting from almost nothing, Winter Solstice revolves around a gentle percussion (sounding like rattling pebbles or shells) that follows a tidal pattern as the sound ebbs and flows from the speakers. Throughout the piece, Vastl adds and removes layers as he works through his arsenal of instruments and styles. An ominous bass appears sporadically during the first few minutes before a stark but complex mixture of percussion instruments take the center stage. The feeling of a listening in to a long-forgotten ritual runs through the early stages of Winter Solstice before light cuts through the darkness in the form of a seriously jolly bit of organ.
Vastl slowly weaves other motifs and styles through the ever-present pebbly percussion (and the bulk of the album also featuring a soft ambient hum reminiscent of "Sea Armchair" by Nurse With Wound). The sound of a saw on wood provides an earthy aspect to the work; the visions of a woodsman stockpiling firewood for the rest of winter coming to mind. Vastl’s trademark violin makes a welcome appearance towards the end of Winter Solstice in an exciting but brief and distant aside.
Winter Solstice is one of those albums where I reach the conclusion that familiar as I am with an artist like Vastl, his ability to surprise me surpasses his already impressive musical talents. The sparse, haunting, and frankly gorgeous music takes many of Vastl’s themes and ideas as Aranos and distils them into this intoxicating work. Winter Solstice goes beyond a seasonal novelty to be played only once a year; this music gets deep into the psyche and has been reverberating in my skull hours after the CD-R stops spinning.
samples:
 
In the wake of the short-lived mid-2000's noise explosion, many of the genre's leading lights either moved on or began experimenting with clever ways to make dissonant chaos sound fresh again.  Swanson, formerly one half of Yellow Swans, takes a stab at the latter here by incorporating thumping 4/4 beats into his aesthetic with  intermittently bludgeoning success.  However, the album's best pieces are still those where Swanson sticks closest to his familiar terrain of blackened, brooding heaviness.
Man With Potential begins with its most bold and striking piece, "Misery Beat."  It starts with almost three minutes of throbbing synth pulses and layered skittering, stuttering electronic bleeps and squiggles... then kicks into a relentless house beat.  I am still pretty confused about how I feel about it, which I guess is a good thing.  Such a dumb, obvious beat had a definite sell-by date as far as I am concerned and I don't think nearly enough time has passed for it be re-purposed into serious music.  Nevertheless, the effect is a dramatic one and Swanson doesn't use it to soften his music at all: instead, he escalates the chaos by piling on tortured-sounding guitars, strange burbling, and squalls of static.  I think Swanson's instincts were ultimately good, as it is a heavy and visceral piece that is probably amazing live, but it definitely draws some of its power from cheap thrills.  That goddamn beat is impossible to ignore: even gnarled and ruined house music still basically sounds like house music.
The thumping continues with "Remote View," but it is much more down-tempo and melodic.  I'm not fond of it, as it resembles a mediocre Gas song with a thin layer of hissing, stuttering noise piled on top (though I like the weird seagull-like swooping sounds).  It is the album's undeniable low point.  Swanson gets some minor momentum back, however, with the somewhat superior "A&Ox0," which takes similar cues from down-tempo electronica, but it is far more mangled-sounding: the central melodic motif sizzles and breaks apart as it tries to push through the patina of hiss and white noise.  It's a pretty neat effect, but the melody itself isn't particularly strong.
The second half of the album is much better.  It is also less beat-driven, though "Far Out" approximates a much more slow-burning "Misery Beat": there's a lot more tense bleeping, swooping, whooshing, rumbling, and pulsing before the kick drum assumes supremacy.  Also, it is well-served by its bleakly minimalist melody.  It is arguably the best of the rhythmic pieces, but the two comparatively beat-less pieces that follow are the album's highlights.
The lengthy "Man With Potential" is a masterpiece of chattering, shuddering density.  It culminates in a wonderfully forlorn and slow-moving synthesizer progression, but the texture is what elevates it into something truly amazing.  With crystalline clarity, Swanson creates an impossibly layered mass of sound that can only be described as "a thousand malfunctioning robots trapped in a small room."  Later on, he piles on even more layers (a heartbeat, something that sounds like a bubbling pool of lava) and it gets even better.  It's simply a massive, quivering wall of sound that sounds like no one else.
The closer, "Face The Music," brings the beat back, but it is quite buried and secondary this time around.  The core of the song is essentially its strange melody and lurching pulse, but the beat successfully adds a sense of urgency without drawing attention away from the real show.  Also, it is largely eclipsed by the grinding, roiling mayhem that Pete ultimately unleashes on top of it all.  The melody is pretty great here though–easily the best on the album.
Swanson is definitely onto something promising here, but he isn't quite there yet: Man With Potential feels like a transitional album where he has yet to find the perfect balance between the various facets of his sound.  As a noise artist, I'd say he is inarguably at the top of his game though: these songs are unwaveringly sharp, vibrant, seething, and inventive.  Unfortunately, beats and melodies make soundscapes seem an awful lot like songs and Pete is still a bit hit-or-miss at making those elements work with maximum effectiveness.  That said, wielding strong beats and melodies without drawing focus away from the surrounding texture is no small challenge and Pete succeeds far more than he misfires.
Samples:
 
Brian Pyle received a lot of attention with 2010's Psychical (a creepy homage to schlocky slasher films), but it was much too blunt and raw for me to want to hear more than once.  He got me this time though: Crossing The Pass, By Torchlight traffics in similarly eerie and disquieting ambiance (and continues to display Pyle's love of '80s sounds and textures), but it does so in a much deeper and more nuanced way.  That may not sound like a stunning evolution, but the difference is a dramatic one.  This is a great album.
The word "cinematic" is probably unavoidable in any discussion of Crossing The Pass, By Torchlight, as most of the six songs are tense and brooding in a way that screams "film soundtrack."  Unfortunately, the word "cinematic" is a somewhat negatively loaded term, as it it is often used as a charitable way to describe music that doesn't quite stand on its own without a visual component.  This album is cinematic in the best, most Angelo Badalamenti-esque sense though: it easily stands as a complete and satisfying whole.  It would certainly be great to hear Pyle's brooding and throbbing synths accompanying a film, but it would have to be a brilliantly dark and sophisticated film to do it justice.
The more fascinating aspects of Crossing The Pass are the less immediately obvious ones.  The most significant is Brian's irony-free use of dated tropes like clunky drum machine rhythms, '80s synth textures, and movie dialogue snippets.  Taken out of context, it is easy to imagine New Edition rapping over the beat in "Sparks Exploding, Splintering Blackness," but it becomes a very haunting piece when that beat is ensconced in Pyle's lush and buzzing layers of synthesizers.  That again brings Badalamenti to mind, as he and David Lynch are the reigning masters at creating perverse dread from seemingly incongruously kitsch.  Pyle hasn't eclipsed the Twin Peaks soundtrack or anything here, but he seems to be equally unerring and pitch-perfect in that very specific department.
The second most striking aspect of this album is its deceptive simplicity: all of these songs essentially stretch one strong motif into an entire song. There aren't distinct movements or multiple parts in any of these pieces, yet they feel like very complex, dynamic, and deliberate compositions.  Pyle doesn't need much more than a solid rhythm and a brooding chord progression to create a memsmerizing piece, as his greatest talent lies in masterfully tweaking everything in the periphery.  Regardless of how a song starts, it always ultimately snowballs into something much darker and more dense as layers and layers of feedback, synthesizer, strangled guitars, and samples are added.  To his credit, Brian is varied enough in his approach to avoid ever seeming formulaic or predictable–it is a definite that the songs here will start off good and end even better, but it is still always compelling to hear how he gets there.
It is extremely difficult to pick a favorite or least favorite song on this album, as it is uniformly excellent from start to finish.  The most immediately gratifying piece, however, is probably "To Feel The Night As It Really Is," due to its infectious drum loop, which makes its slow-burning intensity seem a bit more vibrant than usual.  If Crossing The Pass has a flaw, it's probably that "Everything I Have, I Give To You" is too warm, non-threatening, and comparatively minimal to comfortably fit thematically with the rest of the album.  It is still quite a likable piece though–it just feels more like a good bonus track than part of the formal album.  That, remarkably, is the most serious misstep on a virtually flawless album.  I cannot over-emphasize what a huge leap forward this record is for Ensemble Economique: this is definitely one of my favorite albums of the year and quite possibly the most pleasantly surprising one as well.
Samples:
 
