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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Out on Pickled-Egg from the UK, Volcano's first LP consists of 6 new songs by these growing and mind-expanding UK surrealists. On a whole, the release is filled with a bizarre emotion that leaves a sinking feeling in your stomach.
 
 
Pickled Egg
Side A ("Yak Folk") starts with the low-fi, reverb-drenched track, "Where Are the Bounds?," which is reminiscent in feel of the first track ("Planetary Bethlehem") from The Inhazer Decline. The second track is a short snippet of eerie noise, leading into "Nobody's Falling," which utilizes their eccentric—but extremely compelling—vocal work. With a very psychedelic-rock sound, they play horns, organs, and consistent high hats, which blend to conjure up a surrealist lounge. Side B ("Y'Are") has some beautiful, brilliant work—the best VtB I've yet heard. "Egg Knowledge" makes me feel as if I am in the presence of ghosts. The vocals are haunting and extremely bizarre (comparable only to a dying elderly), and combine with the tension-building noises and tribal-esque drums to leave a queasy, almost painful mindset. Next is "Oslo Top," made of twinkly noises with demonic vocals. And finally, "Hello Graham," the long ending track, tops the album with its usage of slurred vocals and beautifully simple acoustic guitar overlayed and interchanging, putting emotions out for grabs that are both frightening and captivating. The feeling for most of the LP is, in fact, a strange, ambiguous line between comforting and terrifying; but it is executed in such a manner that is purely hypnotic.
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Available once again (no clue if this one's limited) is one of my top-10 albums of the year. The Un-Releases was originally released earlier this year in an "official" bootleg teeny-tiny quantity which barely made it across the water to the USA. Now, through K in Olympia, Washington the disc should be easier to get a hold of.
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Thankfully, Oi! is not a trawl through a dubious underbelly of UK punk. It’s a two disc snapshot of recent Brazilian music from Amapa to Rio Grande Do Sul, Acre to Paraiba, mapping the places where indigenous forms meet dub, funk, psychedelia, and several other outer-national sub-genres. Of the 40 tracks I prefer those suggesting cool, dark alleys, mind warping neon surfboards, or vertigo-inducing rooftops, to others which feel like over-crowded hip-hop/carnival nether regions where “party” is a verb and Karl Pilkington dreams of quiet reverie during a hellish episode of An Idiot Abroad.
There is some fascinating cross pollination of styles to be heard on Oi! but it sometimes that is not enough. For example, while "Ovelhinhas" by Cidadao Instigado is intriguingly described as"schizophrenic brega" and the song wonders what becomes of the sheep people count in order to get to sleep, it’s actually sounds irritating. Thus, it conjures visions of mint sauce or rosemary; visions in which the sheep aren’t the ones being roasted. Which reminds me, included in this package is a great poster created in the style of lambe-lambe flyers (a popular way to promote gigs) on the reverse of which is a detailed breakdown of Brazilian regional music traditions, and a useful glossary.
From this I learned that Guitarrada is instrumental guitar music from Para. Indeed, there seems to be a Dick Dale faction lurking in Para, including the group La Pupuna, who very nearly prove that meringue and surf guitar can coexist. Some of the liner notes are unintentionally funny: for example the beautifully pretentious statement that manguebeat is more movement and manifesto than fusion of hip-hop, North Eastern rhythm, and rock. To which the punchline must be: Well, that's a relief. Other claims are spot on, as with the description of Instituto’s "Ossario" as a "brooding David Axelrod groove".  There are some splendid pieces , not least the opening track by Mini Box Lunar, who sound a bit like like The Archies backed by a steel band covering Os Mutantes, on the dreamy, light, and affecting "Amarelasse".
I‘ve no idea what most of these artists are singing about, and if the one English language piece is anything to go by, that is a relief. Lucas Santtana may be something of a critical darling but his "Hold Me In" (which gives some composer credit to Arto Lindsay) is a fairly tedious ballad, less sultry trip-hop than weary drip-hop. Of all the regions included, Pernambuco is the most represented, with 13 pieces by different artists. Of these, Guardaloop’s "Oh Dub" isn’t the most exciting dub I have ever heard, but it is a good stylistic contrast to Roberto Correa’s striking fiddle work on " Cara Da Bronze", the swinging almost-Stereolab rhythms of Mombojo, and the lovely, and refreshingly simple, lament "Ca" by Julia Says.
The smallest state in Brazil is Sergipe on the East Coast, from whence come Naurea with perhaps the albums loudest and most aggresive track, "Hoje Tem Forro". Also rather good, is 3Namassa’s "Doce Gula" with a Gainsbourgesque suggestive groove and cool girl vocals by CeU. Compiled by Mais Um Gingo after a couple of years travel to festivals and shows, Oi! is great fun and gives welcome exposure to some of Brazil’s diverse innovations.
Solange Gularte (Natural Snow Buildings) returns for her second solo LP for Blackest Rainbow. A dreamy psychedelic haze of shimmering drones, minimal string plucking with barely-there vocals, Gularte's sound is somewhat more far out in comparison to say Twinsistermoon or Natural Snow Buildings. Night Of Raining Fire showcases this with tracks like the almost medieval sounding "Still Voyager," or the outsider folk sound of "Nadirs of the Sun." The record comes packaged in a stunning full colour sleeve covered in Gularte's strange surreal illustrations. Limited to 500 copies. 400 on heavyweight black virgin vinyl, 100 on coloured standard weight vinyl. Click here to stream the album!
The album will be released December 15th. For more information, go to Blackest Rainbow.
This is Vantzou's solo debut, but she should be familiar to many from her work as the visual half of Adam Wiltzie's The Dead Texan project.  That association was not a fluke, as Christina's musical aesthetic clearly shares a lot of quiet, slow-moving, and nuanced common ground with the Stars of the Lid milieu.  Such comparisons are pretty much inevitable in any discussion of No. 1, but Christina establishes her own voice by embracing impressionist classical music and a brighter, more pastoral mood.
Vantzou began composing this album on her own back in 2007 with samples and a synthesizer, but the material that actually wound up on this release is probably quite different than it started out.  That evolution is largely due to Magik*Magik Orchestra's Minna Choi, who became involved as a long-distance collaborator.  As a result, Vantzou's 45-minute synth epic ultimately became a ten-song suite performed by a small orchestra.
The decision to break the piece into multiple parts seems like a great move to me, but I would definitely be interested in hearing what Christina's raw version sounded like.  The orchestra undeniably makes these pieces sound like polished works by a serious composer, but it seems like that may have come at the expense of some character and humanity.  That isn't a huge issue with the stronger compositions, such as the lushly melancholy "Your Changes Have Been Submitted," but the less distinct pieces are weakened still further by the homogenizing combination of professional classical instrumentation and warm, gauze-y production and mixing (provided by Wiltzie, actually).
There are a few muted rough edges that still manage to make their way in though.  I definitely found myself looking forward to them, despite their subtlety (a little bit of rumble or hiss, a buried unrecognizable sample, etc.).  The slightest hint of grit, menace, or darkness goes a long way towards making this album work and such hints appear far too sparingly, a predicament that raises a lot of issues for me: these pieces are arranged skillfully, unfold pleasantly, fit together as a thematically coherent whole, and feature some strong melodies, but it all errs on the side of being too polite and "nice."
Unfortunately, I could probably critique Ravel or Debussy for the same thing, which probably makes me a philistine or at least mildly intolerant of many classical music tropes.  Vantzou's strong drone influence also plays a large role in No. 1's pervading feeling of sameness though, as there is very little dynamic variability or silence–just endless soft-focus swelling and billowing. Again, that isn't inherently a bad thing: it certainly makes the pieces feel contemporary and immersive, but it doesn't help the album's vibrance at all (though to her credit, Christina does an excellent of using brass to cut through the fog melodically).
For a debut effort, this is quite successful in a number of respects: Vantzou seamlessly weaves together classical music and drone, offers a handful of very good pieces ("Joggers," for example), and distinguishes herself from Kranky's other drone/neo-classical composers.  On a fundamental level, it all works– I very much enjoyed hearing strong melodies and muted romanticism incorporated into a blissful fog of warm drone.  Unfortunately, the details (or lack thereof) are a killer, as music this smooth, placid, and sanded-down doesn't leave a strong impression when the album ends.  No.1 is a pleasant way to spend the better part of an hour, but doesn't go much deeper than that.
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I was very curious about what The Drift's latest album was going to sound like, as so much has changed since 2008's well-regarded Memory Drawings: Danny Paul Grody fell in love with steel-string acoustic guitars, stellar double-bassist Safa Shokrai left the band, and–most significantly–founding member Jeff Jacobs succumbed to cancer.  The band opted not to replace Jacobs, which left them with the very difficult puzzle of continuing without their primary melodic instrument.  The resultant album understandably loses all traces of their jazzier, more dub-inflected recent work (Jacobs played trumpet), but returns fairly successfully to The Drift's more straightforward post-rock roots...sometimes.
Thankfully, one good thing emerged from the loss of half the damn band: original bassist Trevor Montgomery is back.  That means that 2/3 of The Drift have been members of Tarentel.  There are some definite similarities between the two bands (particularly with Tarentel's earlier work), but The Drift are clearly working towards very different ends.  In fact, they are working towards completely different ends than even The Drift circa 2008.  While Blue Hour lacks any of Tarentel's brooding experimentalism or Memory Drawing's sinuous grooves or hazy trumpet solos, it does boast a killer rhythm section in its own right.  Montgomery and drummer Rich Douthit shine brightest in the relentlessly propulsive "Dark Passage" and the lurchingly off-beat "Continuum," but they provide Grody with a very tight, muscular, and punchy foundation for most of the album.  As much as I love Grody, they pretty much steal the album, as the success or failure of each piece is heavily dependent on the strength of its groove.
That is not to say that Grody's playing is not excellent, but he has the unenviable task of carrying almost all of the album's melodic weight himself and his strengths tend to be of a more minimal/ textural/ atmospheric nature (on the electric guitar, anyway).  Also, his guitars are too processed to have the presence and bite necessary to hold the melodic foreground over the thick bass and rumbling toms.  He certainly delivers some inspired moments, such as the shimmering, delay-heavy shoegaze-inspired crescendo on "Luminous Friend," but that is not quite the same as delivering a satisfying composition.
Many songs just plod and meander along without a strong hook to carry them, which is hugely exasperating because everything else is so strong.  Something new needs to fill the void that Jacobs' vanished trumpet left.  I think the band must have realized that themselves at some point, as they reinterpret Grody's own "Hello From Everywhere" with a melodica as the lead instrument (I think).  It lacks the beauty and intimacy of the original (which is a great song), but the jangly looseness coupled with a strong melodic motif is a definite step in the right direction.  Grody's "Fountain" also makes an appearance, but unfortunately gets stretched into a somewhat interminable 12-minute jam.
Despite all my grumblings, I wouldn't classify this album as a failure or a misfire so much as a valiant transitional effort...and perhaps a bit premature (Blue Hour would be very brief if the Grody solo covers, the drone interludes, and the obviously improvised pieces were omitted).  I am happy to have The Drift back and there are a few very good songs here, but a  bass/drum/guitar trio with no vocals or strong lead instrument is unlikely to hold my attention for very long, no matter how talented the players involved.  I like the new line-up, but until the compositional and melodic holes are filled, the whole is doomed to be less than the sum of its parts.
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The second outing on compact disc for the anonymous minimalist Eleh compiles three out of print, vinyl-only releases. The eight pieces that make up the Floating Frequencies/Intuitive Synthesis have been tarted up for a digital release and they sound unbelievably good. While there is no new material included, these discs make for essential listening either for Eleh die hards or for those without turntables who have been wondering what all the fuss was about.
 
While part of Eleh’s mystique has been their almost complete adherence to an analogue body of work (only the album Location Momentum on Touch Records broke the mold by appearing on CD), this has lead to an ever-inflating auction market for their limited edition releases. As each of these albums have been going for excessive prices on the second hand market so it is great to finally be able to listen to the entire Floating Frequencies/Intuitive Synthesis trilogy without destroying my wallet. Eleh has remastered the three albums for the digital format, insisting that this is an alternative and not a replacement for the original vinyl releases.
As I only have one of these LPs (the third one), I have not been able to do a full comparison between the vinyl and CDs. However, based on the third disc alone, I would say that the CDs are an improvement on the originals. Granted, the CD misses out on the patterns on the grooves formed by the regular sound waves but sonically I feel this is a superior format for this sort of music. With no surface noise, the tones push through the speakers unimpeded; the clarity required by such precise and detailed sound cannot be achieved with vinyl. For the record, I have never been fully convinced by the argument that vinyl is in any way superior to CD as either format can be sublime or awful. I certainly feel for music like this, CD is as sonically rich as vinyl but delivers a cleaner sound.
Focusing on the music at hand, there is a lot to be excited about here no matter what format it is stored on. The first disc begins with "In the Ear of the Gods" which is busy enough for Eleh, with less emphasis on pure tones and more on the textures and ranges of the various instruments being used. It is the rest of disc one where Eleh’s distinctive sound comes into full fruition. The two pieces "Tone Phase 1" and "Tone Phase 2" both use oscillators and guitar as the source material with Eleh pulling exacting and controlled drones from them. The result can be assimilated in multiple ways; at low volumes or on headphones, it is possible to experience the sounds as warm, ambient soundscapes. However, turning up the volume dial on the stereo allows the interactions between the different frequencies to become noticeable. The beating between the frequencies forms an irresistible beat which breaks apart the idea of this being only drone music as Eleh uses the mathematical underpinnings of the sounds as sound sources in themselves.
These ideas are expanded further on the two other discs in the set with each disc taking different elements of this heavy minimalism and exploring them in greater depth. Here the interplay between the constituents of the sounds is like a kaleidoscope for the ears; Eleh’s dedications to La Monte Young, Charlemagne Palestine and Pauline Oliveros on the original vinyl versions of Floating Frequencies/Intuitive Synthesis are not empty gestures. Eleh takes the same theoretical or ideological approaches as each of these cornerstones of minimalism and creates something new. "Black Mountain 1933" begins with a fat synth drone which very slowly becomes denser and denser to the point where it feels like there is nothing but the sound. Later, on the two parts of "Pulsing Study of 7 Sine Waves" Eleh imparts a steady rhythm on the music which is completely at odds with the constant hum of the previous piece. However, both pieces highlight the possibilities hidden within a finite number of tones.
The final disc finishes off the set with two beautiful pieces that condense all the experiments of the previous discs into a pair of powerful works. "Phase One: Sleeps Golden Drones Again" takes the same general structure of the "Pulsing Studies" and turns them into a crawling, treacly mass of sound. "Bass Pulse in Open Air" has a similarly weighty feel to it; at the right volume it causes the room to shudder and sing with the music. I listened to it in the car and my rear-view mirrors vibrated to the point where it looked like the cars behind me were made of liquid. The physical manifestation of these sounds is incredible.
On the note of physical manifestations of Eleh’s sound, the one thing missing from these stunning discs is the patterns formed in the grooves of the vinyl by the precision tones employed by Eleh. However, opening up the pieces in audio editing software reveals the visual beauty of these waveforms and to make up for the lack of these patterns on the discs, Eleh has used very attractive black card packaging and those futuristic-looking Mini-Max CDs (where the playable area is surrounded by a ring of clear plastic) to complete the Eleh aesthetic. Altogether, Floating Frequencies/Intuitive Synthesis more than lives up to the mythic status that Eleh has so quickly ascended to. This is easily the equal of any of the landmarks of drone music from La Monte Young’s sine wave pieces to Coil’s Time Machines. This is perfect music.
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As a collaboration between two artists who are almost impossible to pin down by genre conventions, A Throne Without A King is at times a difficult album, often not resembling anything from either artist, but a different beast entirely. It may be difficult, but its worth the effort to fully absorb what’s there to be heard.
While the bulk of this album is the four part title track, each of the two artists contribute their own solo pieces (on the 7" if it's the vinyl version).Pyramids' "Phaedra's Love" is full of jarring transitions, often paring lush, gorgeous melodic textures with caustic industrial pounding and erratic, rapid-fire drum machine beats.The balance of beauty and ugly is carefully struck, and it makes for an unsettling song.
Jenks Miller's Horseback provides "Thee Cult of Henry Flynt" which, other than the occasional guttural vocal outburst, isn't as metal as I've come to expect: in some ways the melodic work feels like a throwback to Impale Golden Horn.While that album was more about mood, here the rather pleasant guitar playing is layered and pushed along by a rapid beat.However, the second half sounds like the first being pulled apart, with fragments of voices and disembodied guitar melodies drifting through space.
The four part "A Throne Without A King" strips away the more musical elements of both artists to create a textural 45+ minute composition that focuses less on melody and more on odd, unrecognizable sounds.The first piece is mostly backward chimes and glitchy outbursts, with a bit of concession to gentle melody in its latter moments, but broken up by weirdly processed voices.
Into the second piece there are a lot of static-laden layers of sound that become thicker and denser as it goes on.It never becomes full on noise or overly harsh, but it definitely makes its presence known.The dissonance retreats to allow in oddly treated vocals, but then launches into full on Merzbow mode to close the track.
The penultimate segment begins with the noise from before, but slowly reins it in, leaving the focus on buried droning tones that are ever so slightly melodic, but not in any conventional sense.It comes to a close (and leads into the final track) with abstract, clattering percussion that sets up the conclusion.The final piece is a fitting conclusion, mixing textural static with bleak, reverberating tones and bizarre percussive crashes.
For some reason I can't fully articulate, the collaboration reminded me of a further abstraction of the more "out there" jazz, along the lines of Albert Ayler and Ornette Coleman (circa Free Jazz), but without any traditional instrumentation.It has that same inertia to it, a sense of disciplined propulsion that underlies the chaos, making sense of the madness, but only after careful absorption and decoding.While I probably favored each artist’s solo contributions for regular listening, the collaboration is a dense, puzzling work that takes a few spins to fully unravel its secrets.
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I first met Othon Mataragas in Austria at Donaufestival '07 (curated by David Tibet) where he was performing with Current 93. Since then, he has been on the soundtrack to the Bruce LaBruce film Otto; or Up With Dead People and then part of a live accompaniment to the Derek Jarman film The Angelic Conversation, orchestrated by Peter Christopherson. I've seen Othon contribute his pianist skills to Ron Athey's automatic writing performance in London (Gifts of the Spirits), and he is currently working on an collaboration with artist Franko B (Because of Love). His debut album, Digital Angel, focused on childhood nightmares of corporations taking over our identities and features a lovely rendition of Coil's "The Dreamer is Still Asleep," sung by David Tibet. His second album, Impermanence, is provocative, filled with torment that is presented in a profound yet light-hearted way. Othon's arrangements are gorgeous and timeless.
The opening title track starts out with an exalting, classical instrumental track by Othon alone at the piano.He is credited in the liner notes as contributing piano and celeste to the album: quite a stunning start, demanding full attention as if whispering for us to pay attention.The lyrics of "The Fall," written by poet Ernesto Sarezale, lend themselves to showcase Tomasini's four-octave vocal range and tell a morbid love story of nurturing a wounded stranger who is represented metaphorically by a fallen angel."Mystery Star Dance" is the second instrumental on the album, a striking and epic piece filled with sorrow and intensity, featuring Othon's exquisite piano paired with cello by Jacob Shirley.Othon's only vocal contribution to the album, "All Is Too Soon," is warm and touching as he recalls memories of a childhood friend lost; his Greek accent is endearing in this tragic tale."A Little Dream" has a hint of David Tibet vocal style in Tomasini's whispering apocalyptic tones.The second instance of the title track-- "Impermanence +" features the lovely sullen voice of Marc Almond.This track seems to be inviting us into another world.The lyrics are melancholy and dark, as is the delivery: "cold is the sun / black shines the moon / and birds have sharp teeth / the flies killing eyes."
The single of the album, "Last Night I Paid To Close My Eyes" is sung by Marc Almond on the album version.The single version and the music video both feature Tomasini in Marc's place.Both feature a choir of backing vocalists including Beverly Crone (The Cesarians).Ernesto's appearance in the music video is all at once striking, ostentatious, and enigmatic-- an element of whimsy to go with the theatrics of it all.
The final track of the album, also titled "Impermanence" is sung by Tomasini entirely in falsetto with a soprano register—delivered with a dramatic, cinematic effect.It is accompanied by magic organ from this track's producer, Troy Banarzi.Something wicked has become of something once sacred—an end is near, and his final words of the album resonate so strongly you'll likely be inclined to give the album another listen and momentarily deny the message they propose: "gone are the ships / lost is all hope / but I deny to believe / I deny to accept / the impermanence of it all."
As stated in an interview, Othon is often laughing inside during even his most painful performances.There is madness here, and it is meant to make us feel both terrified and giddy at the same time. Othon mentioned that the slogan of the album is "everything withers & everything dies," and it celebrates both the pain of life and the joy of dying.When we die, the chemical DMT is released into our brains as we leave our bodies, arguably the last earthly mindset we experience before moving from this existence to the next.Therefore, we should be at peace with ourselves upon death, or we may end up in a perpetual bad trip: perhaps the definition of Hell?Illustrated on the album's gorgeous cover artwork by the wonderful Hector de Gregorio, this is a motif which Othon toys with great success—that of agony meeting ecstasy and the hallucinatory, quirky shades of life that come from everything in between.
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