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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This is the first in an irregular overview of cassette releases from a variety of labels. This edition features releases from The Tapeworm, Cassauna, Peasant Magik, Goat Eater Arts and Witch Sermon, including works by Pauline Oliveros, Deceh, Francisco López, Moss and Hoor-paar-Kraat amongst many, many others.
The first two tapes from Important Records’ new sub-label Cassauna are both gorgeous examples of contemporary minimalism. The first is 4 by the mysterious Deceh, a quartet (made up of Eleh and three others) who specialize in tight, controlled drones. Analogue synthesizers and what sounds like bowed strings create a mood somewhere between the aforementioned Eleh and Charlemagne Palestine's "Strumming for Strings." The meditative nature of the music is intoxicating and I keep finding myself returning to its warm, welcoming tones.
The second release from Cassauna is a collaborative effort between the mighty Pauline Oliveros and Michael T. Bullock. Accordion to Bass is a fitting partner to the Deceh tape, although on the surface they are different beasts entirely. Percussive double bass and stabs of accordion create a frenetic form of Oliveros' minimalism. However, despite the almost hyperactive form of improvisation on display, Accordion to Bass is as engaging and welcoming as the Deceh tape. Much like the Attention Patterns double LP released on Important a few months ago, these two releases show how minimalism is more than just a sparse arrangement but rather an attack on methodology (with Oliveros sounding very much un-Oliveros-like).
Another new label, Witch Sermon, focuses on the heavier end of the metal spectrum. Their first release is a live recording from occult doom metallers Moss. Despite its bootleg origins, this audience recording has been given one hell of a mastering job as it sounds phenomenal. The band erupt from the speakers like demons from a crypt, ploughing through a selection of songs from their recent Tombs of the Blind Drugged EP and their two main albums. My stereo shuddered and shook throughout the album, songs like "Eternal Return" and "The Gate" hitting like an avalanche.
Also on Witch Sermon, zz's I, Gorgon comes wrapped in frayed twine with a blotchy, hand-painted piece of canvas attached. Part of the joy of these small run cassette labels is the feeling that you are able to get a more private snapshot of an artist at work, the care needed to create and duplicate such an album seeps into my appreciation of the work. It also allows for some truly unusual music to make it out into the world. zz (Andy Lippoldt) is best known as one half of Gorgontongue and is also the main man behind Persistence in Mourning. However, unlike his work with these projects, this solo recording instead sounds like a dog chewing a microphone while a doom band practises next door on side A and some strange mix of doom and tape loops on the b side. It is an odd release to say the least but there is a charm to the chaotic, unpredictable sonic squalor.
Over the last couple of years, The Tapeworm has become the most recognizable bastion for tape culture and it is understandably so when looking at the label’s back catalog. The mix of styles, genre and artistic intents across all the releases make for an Aladdin’s cave of treasured recordings. Their latest releases bolster their reputation as purveyors of fine music on cassette with fantastic releases by Deceh, Philip Marshall, Francisco López and Zan Hoffman. Fundamental Structure by Deceh sees the group exploring more intense frequencies than those on their other release reviewed above. Again this is deeply meditative music but where 4 relaxed me, Fundamental Structure acts more as a stimulant. This is not surprising judging by the liner notes which state that the group have given close "attention… to the organization of isolated frequencies and the effects of these vibrations on brain activity." Clashing tones create beautiful interferences and by moving my head around I can alter the sounds further. This gives way to a pleasant sea of Hammond organ and sruti box, leaving me adrift and at peace.
Both sides of Philip Marshall's Casse-tête follow a very similar path, so much so that I had to consult the liner notes to be sure that it was not the same material repeated on both sides. Strong, clear piano playing opens both sides before giving way to atmospheric if stereotypical field recordings of accordion playing on what sounds like a Parisian street. Both sides finish off with some serious organ drone, side B's performance being particularly powerful. The transitions between the sections are edited beautifully, reminiscent of early Nurse With Wound and I must say that Casse-tête is a gem of a tape.
Concert for 300 Magnetic Tapes by Francisco López and Zan Hoffman is a surprisingly disappointing affair (especially considering Hoffman is known as a fanatic for tape). As the name suggests, this is an archive recording of a live performance from 1994 where López and Hoffman used audio cassettes from hundreds of sound artists to create a dense fog of sound. The different layers merge together into one gray lump and it is hard to get excited about a gray lump. It is a worthwhile release to some extent as an early example of López's work and a rare release of Hoffman's but it pales in comparison to the company it keeps on The Tapeworm label.
Goat Eater Arts also has a couple tapes out, including a new Hoor-paar-Kraat album made in collaboration with York Factory Complaint. This one is a bruiser and sounds completely unlike anything I have heard from Hoor-paar-Kraat before (though I must admit it is my first time hearing York Factory Complaint at all). Sheets of noise, intense synthesizer rhythms and dangerous sounding rumbles are brought together into one expressive, cathartic whole. After a recent discussion with a friend over the poor state of noise (and the obsession with crappy harsh noise wall style), it is great to hear artists pushing noise back into the adventurous maelstrom that made it so appealing to me in the first place. Follow this example, ditch your pedals and get your hands dirty!
Also out on Goat Eater Arts is the debut release from Weeks. This trio pump out some fantastic metal that is reminiscent of the likes of Neurosis and Eyehategod but rougher. Across the two sides of this regrettably short release, their primal assault blew the cobwebs from my ears. If I was sitting down in front of my stereo I imagine I would probably look like the man in the old advertisement for Maxell cassettes. Hopefully Weeks have more in the pipeline because this is killer.
Finally, Peasant Magik have recently unleashed a truckload of new tapes into the wild. Croque Madame (a duo of Melissa Farley and Kat Moran) have put together four awesome psychedelic jams on their I Love to Laugh cassette. A dreamy fog of guitar and keyboard obscure barely decipherable vocals like some sort of sprawling My Bloody Valentine where the melodies and rhythms have long been forgotten. Elsewhere there is a touch of early Low to the music. There is a naivety to the music that makes I Love to Laugh all the more charming; "Caravan of Vegetables" has a distracted whimsy to it which encapsulates all that I like about this tape.
La Répétition is a soundtrack to an independent French film of the same name by Terence Hannum from Locrian. Hannum pulls sparse, desolate tones from his guitar and accordion to conjure up feelings of isolation and that kind of metaphysical angst that French films and literature do so well. I do not know if that is supposed to be the desired effect as I have not seen the movie but the soundtrack definitely stands up on its own. It all comes to the boil on the second side, it sounds like something fairly traumatic must be happening on the screen!
The striking cover art that adorns Fat Burren Moon is unfortunately not matched by Gryn Brvs' music. The first side is a forgettable collage of noise that fades quickly into the background. The second side fares better as a warbly recording of a piano is used as a scaffold for Ian Murphy and Stuart Fernie's atonal recordings. It never gels for me though; there is something good there but the duo does not seem to fully engage with the music to make it truly interesting. Fat Burren Moon ends up sounding like a half-finished sketch.
Pink Priest's And I Watched the Ivy Cover Your House also sounds half-finished but unlike Gryn Brvs, it is more intriguing because of this open ended feeling. James Livingston creates a gentle haze of what are supposedly keyboards (but due to all the fuzz could be anything), never really going anywhere but that is OK because it is an enjoyable journey. The music quickly sends me into reverie and it is only the sudden end of each tape that brings me back. And I Watched the Ivy Cover Your House is pleasantly short, I get the impression that a longer immersion in Livingston's music might mean I would never come back to reality.
Floating silently through space approximately 1.4 billion km from Earth are the rings of Saturn. Composed primarily of ice particles, they appear as simple concentric circles similar to the grooves in a record. Thanks to the intricate play of moons, magnetic fields, and gravity, their structure is actually far more complex, fraught with braids and knots and unexpected waves of debris. Christoph Heemann's Rings also glide and ripple through the ether, but the space in which they float is both inner and outer, and closer to home than Saturn.
The Rings of Saturn gestated in Christoph Heemann's brain for 11 years before seeing the light of day, a fact attested by the many fragmentary samples and juxtaposed sounds that populate both its sides. Among the ambiguous wisps of drone and low-end swells are numerous environmental and musical recordings, which include the chiming of church bells and bird songs, a bass solo, a television game show theme, the bustle of a busy street, and even an aria. The latter, "Lascia ch'io pianga" from Handel's Rinaldo, appears early on the record and illuminates the design hiding within Heemann's seemingly disconnected edits.
Rinaldo is a patchwork opera, stitched together with songs and ideas Handel had written years before it was commissioned, yet it tells a coherent story and is celebrated among his greatest accomplishments. The Rings of Saturn has that same motley constitution, but it doesn't tell a story the way Rinaldo does; instead, it points toward philosophical and abstract concepts. In the buzz of lawnmowers and the barking of distant dogs Christoph uncovers the quiet moods and secret thoughts tucked away in the corners of the human psyche; he transforms universal sounds from public places into particular and private spaces within the folds of the mind.
Christoph doesn't just produce cinematic candy for the ears, he replicates places, and all the thoughts and ideas that come with them; he finds the locations where personal and public experiences meet and then he straddles that line and dwells there, meditating on the richness of their collision. Thanks to a stellar mixing job, he even captures the wind blowing the trees and the fading buzz of cars rumbling distantly down the road, among numerous other small sounds, each of which further the sensation of worldly and psychological immersion characteristic of the entire record. It's important to keep the volume up in order to catch all the little details. Doing so makes the immersion that much more convincing, and it helps the marching band Heemann recorded boom and blow the way it would were it really passing by on the street.
Field recordings provide the essential gravity for Rings, but processed audio like the kind both Mirror and H.N.A.S. have produced resound prominently in the mix as well. The most striking examples appear in the second and fifth pieces; the former is an icy and elegant bass solo accompanied by glistening synthetic waves and the latter is a monumental wash of glacial bellows and metallic whirls. Amidst these secluded sounds and communal happenings are comedic morsels of audio and bizarre shards of sound bent psychedelically into fun-house shapes. These studio recordings both mimic and cut up the quiet, mental density of Heemann's environmental ambience, but they also emphasize collage as Heemann's primary technique.
On The Rings of Saturn, that technique is refined and tempered into perfect shape. By blurring his many penchants together and submitting them to subtle edits, he has produced one of the very best records released under his given name. It is easily his most listenable and enjoyable album since the Lebenserinnerungen Eines Lepidopterologen collection, but it also feels more substantial and considerate. Still, the elegant weightlessness of its character, the way it hovers quietly through a room, is perhaps its greatest virtue. That might also be the reason Christoph decided to name these recordings after the halo around Saturn. Besides their shared beauty, both orbit a massive hub, which is remote and mysterious. One hub is shrouded in violent gas storms and the cold of space, the other by skin and bones. Heemann teases out the contents of the latter, and what he finds is immensely beautiful.
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I discovered Rachel Evan's music in a somewhat roundabout way, as I stumbled into some music videos that she directed while I was searching for something else on Vimeo.  As luck would have it, the first one that I watched happened to be one for her own project and I was intrigued enough by her blurred, melancholy multimedia vision to immediately track down this vinyl reissue of a long-unavailable 2010 cassette.  Notably, Brad Rose has described that cassette as one of the best demos that Digitalis has ever received.  It seems like a lot of people agree with him, as the first printing of this record sold-out before most of us were even aware that it existed (it has since been reprinted though).
One noteworthy aspect of this reissue is that it leaves off one of the six songs from the original cassette: "The Alchemical Dream," a piece which sounds like the beginnings of a particularly ghostly Aphex Twin remix.  While not a bad song, it doesn't quite match the mood of the rest of the album, so scrapping it was a good idea.  Removing an album's weak spots for a reissue is a much, much better idea than bloating it with bonus tracks that weren't good enough to be included the first time around–I hope this practice catches on in a big way (even though it was probably motivated solely by time constraints here).  Another key aspect about this release is that it has one of the most apt titles ever: music does not get much more soft-focus, drifting, and blissed-out than this. This record inarguably seeps.
Evans began her musical career, rather perversly, as a singer-songwriter, a vocation that she successfully eradicated all vestiges of here: her vocals and lyrics are reverb-ed into oblivion and these five pieces are not structured in anything approaching a traditional song-like way (and she certainly never picks up a guitar).  Instead, she constructs her soundscapes from her own multi-tracked, heavily processed, and unintelligible vocals.  Unintelligible in a good way, of course, as they swoop and whisper dreamily over an array of subtle synthesizer pulses and drones.  That pairing sounds quite sublime in the twinkling and meditative opener "Clairvoyance," which is one of the album’s two clear highlights.  The other is the breathy and gently throbbing "Telepathy," which manages to sound both drugged and sexy in all the right ways.
I also enjoyed the lazily burbling "Auto Suggestion," but the other two songs did not connect with me much at all (particularly the 12-minute pastoral krautsynth epic "Magnetism").  Also, as much as I enjoyed the bulk of this record, it never truly grabbed me: it feels like there is something important missing.  Seeping Through the Veil of the Unconscious is pleasant and inspired, but as not revelatory as the buzz surrounding it suggests.  I think that elusive element might be "personality," but that sounds like a more withering statement than it actually is.  Heavy reverb certainly sounds spectral and cool, but it also has a distinct tendency to strip most of the character from vocals: something else needs to fill that void.  Rachel's excellent videos solve that problem beautifully, but her music definitely needs something else if it is going to hold up well on its own.  Of course, it is possible that she has already realized that, as the one song that I've heard from her recent split double-cassette with her husband (Nova Scotian Arms) boasts a pretty great understated hook that weirdly reminds me of Clock DVA.  Regardless, Evans definitely has gotten the tough part out of the way: she has forged a very likable aesthetic all her own and made the world notice.  Now she just needs to finish perfecting it.
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This husband-and-wife duo has been lurking around the cassette underground and amassing an enthusiastic following for several years, but their work has always been a bit too abstract and lo-fi to make a big impression on me.  That has now changed, as 936 is a massive leap forward, artfully shaping the band's noisy, experimental impulses and long-standing love of dub into a batch of killer, bass-heavy, hook-filled songs.  I am absolutely obsessed with this album.
Interestingly, Peaking Lights' first full album (2009's Imaginary Falcons) already had basically all of the elements in place that make 936 so great: Indra Dunis' deadpan melodic vocals, structured songs, strong bass lines, cool instrumental hooks, fluttering electronic weirdness, etc.  The only catch was that they were seldom all in place at the same time (and that the album sounded like it was recorded at the bottom of a damn well).  Essentially, the only thing that has changed is that Dunis and Aaron Coyes have merely found a more optimal way to present their great ideas.
One of the great truths in music is that experimentalism is much more palatable when a song has a good beat, a revelation that Dunis and Coyes seem to have taken to heart.  Aside from the ambient-dragged-through-the-mud instrumental "Synthy" and the wistfully swaying "Key Sparrow," every single song boasts a fat, propulsive bass line and a charmingly ramshackle drum machine beat (or an utterly ravaged live drumbeat). Both tend to be very simple, but very insistent and effective.  One song ("All the Sun That Shines") betrays an obvious reggae influence, but the duo otherwise do a pretty remarkable job in distilling the best elements of Jamaican music into their own unique aesthetic.  At the very least, the music tends to be punky and under-produced in a way that no reggae albums ever are.
Also important is the fact that Aaron and Indra have grown quite a bit as songwriters.  936 is absolutely packed full of great, understated hooks and strong, sultry vocals.  Indra has some serious presence.  Coyes, for his part, displays an impressive intuitive understanding of how to balance rough, damaged, and low-budget sounds with surprisingly deft delay-heavy guitar hooks and muscular bass playing.  Songs this catchy and soulful do not generally come out of the underground–this album sounds like a great lost new wave record slathered in grime and subtly hallucinatory weirdness.  Everything flows nicely without sacrificing any bite or grittiness.  This isn't a clever pastiche or retro-nod, but an inspired and brilliantly executed synthesis: these are sounds that were meant to be together.
Aside from "Marshmallow Yellow," which seems a bit listless to me, I am completely in love with every song on this album.  I probably seem a bit evangelical or over-effusive, but everyone that I have talked to about this album has had a very similar take: 936 is something quite singular and likely to be one the best albums of the year.  My only grievance is that the vinyl version omits two pieces, one of which is the final song, "Summertime."  For the record, "Summertime" is probably the absolute best song on the album.  That leaves me utterly baffled, as I can't imagine 936 ending any other way.  That caveat aside, this is essential.
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The cover art of Craft Spells' debut resembles a blurred close-up of one of the flowers adorning the sleeve of Power, Corruption and Lies. While this album is distinctly less stadium-sized than New Order's first of many masterpieces, it is no less riddled with reverb, nostalgia and vibrant hooks.
Craft Spells is essentially one man, Justin Paul Vallesteros, who spent the winter months of 2009-10 in his bedroom working on the dreamy songs that adorn Idle Labor. The album evokes both the warmth of bouncy Balearic pop and the irresistible glow of mid-'80s New Order. Justin's songs have a distinctly handcrafted feel to them, yet he has pop smarts—it's easy to tell he has sanded down any possible rough edges on these songs, streamlined their synth and guitar melodies, and submerged them in bright, hazy production. Most of his lyrics are riddled with the nervous joy and excitement (and, as the album progresses, the uncertain ache) of newfound romance: "As we walked into the night / you kissed me and it felt right / all the lights follow closely behind / 'cause you and I will hold out 'til the morning light." Like many of my favorite lyrics, they often sound worthless on paper, but work well in context because they are so instantly relatable.
Idle Labor may not hit on anything groundbreaking, but I'm hardly bothered—I haven't heard '80s-styled new romanticism this evocative in some time. I want to see how Craft Spells evolve in the coming years (especially with a full touring band), but for now, this is a solid debut that I'll be playing often as summer approaches. Its best songs, most notably the massively catchy "After the Moment," are shot through with the starry-eyed bliss that Sumner & Co. perfected long ago—and all the better for it.
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The last year has seen many of hip hop's current biggest stars—Kanye West, Rick Ross, Drake—releasing lavish, star-studded, overcooked albums. In a perfect world, perhaps somebody like J Rocc could reverse this trend. His first collection of original music on Stones Throw is an effective antidote to the opulence and ego trips that too often infect mainstream hip hop.
For a DJ, turntablist, and producer with over two decades of experience under his belt, J Rocc doesn't command a lot of public attention. He cut his teeth with Orange County turntable crew The World Famous Beat Junkies, which he founded in 1992. The Beat Junkies released three volumes of music in the '90s and have backed and performed alongside Jurassic 5, Dilated Peoples, Cypress Hill and Peanut Butter Wolf, among others. He has served as DJ for both Madlib and J Dilla over the years. Naturally, he also teamed with both as the unheralded third member of Jaylib, their acclaimed collaboration that resulted in Champion Sound, one of independent hip hop's finest album-length statements.
J Rocc's latest release is not a DJ mix, a beats compilation or a mixtape—rather, it's his first full-length album of original music. Some Cold Rock Stuf should not surprise those familiar with the Stones Throw aesthetic of laid-back, primarily instrumental hip hop that is so obviously smoked out, it nearly conjures up the scent of a burning joint while it's playing. This is not a far cry from Madlib's modus operandi, but J Rocc keeps his album leaner and more focused than the slew of Medicine Show LPs and mixes that were released last year. To his credit, J Rocc has created a cohesive album that holds my attention front to back.
Some Cold Rock Stuf is packed with instrumental hip-hop breaks and beats that are strewn with soul, funk, jazz and world music samples. The album flows beautifully due to J Rocc's use of call-out hooks between several songs ("Yo yo yo yo, that was fresh—but bust a sloooow beat!") and its smart sequencing, with five short cuts that draw me in before it transitions into longer, more developed songs on the flipside. There's a good deal of variety between and within tracks, my favorite of which, "Chasing the Sun," even announces its intentions before it starts: "[J Rocc] thinks that an album should always have at least one slow [...] quiet moment, and this song is that. If you're not in that sort of a mood, you can always take it off." (I actually took his advice and skipped it the first time, to my detriment.)
Notably, Stones Throw has also packaged a "mystery disc" of untitled J Rocc material with Some Cold Rock Stuf—the mystery being that one of three possible bonus discs is included at random with each copy of the album. Mine runs 17 minutes, and it keeps the album's vibe rolling with ten brief tracks that seem like sketches from J Rocc's notebook, ideas that he could have fleshed out and included on the album had he developed them a bit more.
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The life expectancy of a good record label with a strong identity isapproximately ten years. Warp has certainly experienced a substantialamout of success but with the mismanagement and poor decision-makingthat resulted in this particular release, their days are trulynumbered, if not completely over. The word on the street is that Warpwas interested in Cex, a fine musician of outstanding merit andincredible talents. Not only does he do a superb job of both originaland derivative cut-up fuckery, but he's an amazing entertainer.Unfortunately when Warp finally saw young Mr. Kidwell perform (mostspecifically rap), they pulled their offer. Four Tet was approached byWarp as well this past year, but after a mysterious Warp field trip toNYC, that offer was pulled too. Incidentally, the latest Four Tetfull-lengther, 'Pause' came out on Domino and is not only alreadystrongly poised for top ten critics and fans choices worldwide (forbest release this year), but Nike has even paid for music to be used intheir advertisements in the USA. So what did Warp end up sinking theirmoney into? The superstar power of Vincent fucking Gallo—you know, thatguy who was a model for some clothing company and directed/acted in"Buffalo 66"? [Reality check, boys: to test the true mark of a cash-cowsuperstar, ask your mom who they are.] At most this disc is a reallysad attempt at retrospective late 1960's Velvet Underground demos witha weak man-bitch shamelessly trying to emulate Jimmy Scott. The albumhas undeniably horrific production, untuned guitars and dreadfullyrics. What the fuck is up with words like "honey bunny my baby girlfriend / sweet heart my sugar girl friend...oh darling you're mydarling"??? At 39, Gallo's writings skills are exponentially worse thansomebody like Ben Lee's circa 16 years old. Unfortunately unlike albumsby William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy, this disc isn't even patheticallyhumorous enough to be considered irony. It's not even sincere enough tobe a "Warp release for girls." It's plainly an embarassment on allparties involved. At this point, the best Warp can hope for is to selltheir company and become absorbed into theA&M/Island/DefJam/Mercury group, ditch their managing staff andcall it a day. I'll bet every penny in my pocket that at least when theinevitable happens, Gallo's 'When' will surely never be pressed again.
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Inevitably, this UK band must be prepared for (superficial) comparisonsto their better-known countrymen Radiohead, especially as this releasedares to combine Brit-pop/rock with very experimental electronics inthe same vein as the Aphex/Warp Records roster. Soundwise, there'snothing in common with Yorke and crew, as Hood mine a cooler, morelaid-back, jazz-and-groove-influenced territory. Beginning with thecrunchy and glitchified 'They Removed All Trace That Anything Had EverHappened Here', HOOD dives into a melange of IDM-ish programming, dubeffects, and more traditional acoustic vocal/rock styles. HOOD use theelectronics sparingly, accenting their songs with the alien sounds butnever forsaking their penchance for actual songwriting. 'This Is WhatWe Do To Sell Out(s)' sounds exactly like an Aphex Twin outtake, whichis used as a foundation track for the band's incongruous acousticmelodies. And it works. The sensitive and melodic male vocals areunmistakably English, and the band shows a great mastery over theirinstruments, while rhythmic beds of IDM-ish grit and groove bring upthe foreground. 'Cold House' is simultaneously challenging andfamiliar. This is 'post-rock' taken in another direction, brimming withsonic inventiveness and (gasp) real human emotion. Very, very strongwork from a band that's not afraid to fuck things up and take chances.Refreshing and brilliant.
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The release of 'Wrong' not only marks the first release from Locust infive years, but also a rare foray into the realm of pop music for itsrecord label, Touch. Mark Van Hoen, the driving force behind Locust,has remained prolific despite the lengthy gap between this and theband's previous album, the critically acclaimed 'Morning Light'. VanHoen released numerous side projects (including Scala, Aurobindo andAutocreation), solo albums and has done production work for artistssuch as Mojave 3 and Sing Sing. 'Wrong' is a twin disc set, but "not adouble CD," as the notation printed on the second disc explains. Thetwo are intended to be experienced synchroniously: the first disccontains the songs proper, while the second is comprised of tones anddrones. Van Hoen has stated that his motivation in creating the albumwas to recapture the essence of the 70s British electronic pop music ofhis youth. He succeeds in his effort, especially in terms of theaccessibility of the songwriting, but adds an entirely new dimension tothe unadulterated pop melodies through his typical lush production and,on 'Wrong', through the use of analogue synthesizers as the albums onlysource of instrumentation. The electronics on the record are superblycrafted and meticulous in their detail. Beautiful beats and swirlscarefully folded around one another and densely layered on each of thenine tracks. Played along with the background drones on the seconddisc, Van Hoen creates a profound sonic depth. Accompanying theelectronics are the vocal stylings of of Holli Ashton, who appeared onLocust's previous release. Her voice is pleasant and and versatile,infusing the mostly uninspiring lyrics with a nevertheless subtlegrace. Other artists making guest apperances on background vocals areSarah Peacock, Tara Patterson, Lisa Millet and Vinny Miller. The songson 'Wrong' run the gamut from warm ballads like "Heal" and "Separate"to the hook-laiden centerpieces of "Sweet Sky" (a slightly differentversion of which appeared as a b-side on the "All Your Own Way" single)and the album's most stand-out track, the phenomenal "Make aDifference." The broader array of instrumentation found on 'MorningLight' such as guitar, trumpet and violin may be lacking on 'Wrong',but yet it manages to combine the best elements of all Van Hoen's pastworks: smartly-constructed pop songs and highly sophisticatedelectronic instrumentation. This well-rounded and thoughtfulassemblange of songs may have been a long time coming, but in the endhas been well worth the wait.
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New levels of ironica are reached on this extended play single when retrofitted 1980s heavy metal and analogue techno rock collide. Thinking back a couple decades, I recall that fans of both camps would despise each other. Take a look at Heavy Metal Parking Lot for clues. Today, however, the music is being warmly embraced by indie rock hipsters. Two groups of three members: the Fucking Champs (who I swear are the pawns in a diabolacal plot from Yngwie Malmsteen to stage a crossover attack into the sweater-clad Buddy Holly glasses-wearing indie crowd) versus Trans Am (who confuse me to this day whether they're paying tribute to or parodizing ZZ Top and Kraftwerk).
What the collective appears to have agreed on is having two songs featuring double-soloing guitars a'la Joe Satriani, two mid-tempo tunes heavy on the electronic low-end, and one drum-free easygoing acoustic thing smack-dab in the middle, containing violin and flute, sounding the most remotely distant from what each group has released on their own. I must admit I wasn't really digging this at first but after many many listens I can safely say this is an awesome release - abstract enough to be cool, cliche enough to be funny and short so it never gets irritating!
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Lars Pedersen is the main man behind When and this is his 8th fulllength album since 1983, 2nd for Jester Records (not counting the 2disc retrospective "WriterCakebox"). 1999's "Psychedelic Wunderbaum"greatly impressed me with it's curiously fun collection of eccentricavante pop and just plain avante. "The Lobster Boys" has done the same.The back cover wallpaper of oldies children's, educational, jazz andclassical records presumably gives a good clue to the source of some ofthe sampled passages and sounds that Pedersen grafts to his own vocals,organ, guitar, bass, xylophone and drum playing. And many other soundsfind their way into the cut and paste mix, some thanks to a few otherplayers: piano, sitar, guitar, flamenco guitar, viola, melodica andindustrial rhythms. There is an indelible happy-go-lucky spirit andlate '60s pop vibe throughout When's songs. "Flower Jam", "SunshineSuperhead" and "Instant Flute" have an uncanny similarity to recentWeen while "The Greatest Sorrow on Earth" and "Puff Pipe" make the bestuse of mellow jazz loops. It's all fun and games up until "RuinYourself" takes a decidedly darker turn, repeating the increasinglycreepy mantra "all together now / all together now / all together nowmy friends / together we ruin ourself". There really should be a singlefor this one. I can't get it out of my head and I don't want to. Anunlisted 16+ minute track is the finale, eventually settling into ahypnotic distorted mass that cleverly concludes with a woman's voicesoftly approving "what a pretty tune, please play it again soon". "TheLobster Boys" is one of those albums you can play anytime, anywhere foranyone. It refuses to be pigeonholed and refuses to be boring. Justlike everything else from When and Jester.
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