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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Thanks again to all for the participation in the annual Brainwashed Readers Poll. Everyone helped nominate and everyone voted. Here are the results, with some comments from the staff. All the Best for 2011!
Single of the year
Vault/Reissue
Various Artist CompilationBoxed Set
Rene Hell
I bet Jeffrey Witscher will be pretty surprised to learn that he is the best new artist this far into his career. It was certainly very cunning of him to strategically change his moniker in a year with so few exciting debuts though. -Anthony D'Amico
Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson
It is impossible for any reader of brainwashed to have not encountered an album cover he photographed, watched a music video he directed, listened to a recording he participated in, or a musician he influenced. In all aspects of the term "lifetime achievement" he has defined. - Jon Whitney
Very few musicians influenced my musical sensibilities as much as Peter Christopherson did. First, he turned me off with Throbbing Gristle and all the obtuse, weird noise he made. I hated it, but I couldn't stop listening and thinking about it. Then, he and Jhonn blew me away with Coil. For years, I spent all my time searching their records out at the record stores in St. Louis. The seasonal EPs changed my life entirely, and hearing Horse Rotorvator and Love's Secret Domain for the first time were two of the most exciting musical experiences in my life. Along with just a couple other people, Peter opened the universe up for me and made it far more awesome than I thought it could be. That might sound corny, but I say it with absolute confidence. Through Coil and Peter, I found Current 93, Nurse with Wound, Foetus, Meat Beat Manifesto, Clive Barker, Derek Jarman, and many others. I finally got to meet him during Brainwaves '08. I don't know what I expected, but what I found in our brief interactions was a kind, funny, immensely humble person that obviously cared about music and the people around him. I feel very lucky to have met him, and even luckier to have found his music. - Lucas Schleicher
Peter Christopherson's role in Throbbing Gristle and Coil were unmeasurable, both groups eliciting transformative experiences at various stages of my life. His work in the visual spectrum of the arts whether it was commissioned videos for MTV or artwork for albums close to his heart were a cut above the rest. His final years showed a personal and creative edge that threatened to push beyond his more renowned works. He has left behind a rich body of work which will no doubt still be beautiful, challenging and upsetting for a lifetime to come. - John Kealy
Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson was an angel of electricity cast in human form. He retained his teenage lightning until the very end and will be dearly remembered for expanding the vocabulary of electronic music, for his magisterial photographs which are essays on the interplay of shadow and light, and his legacy of video work which captured soul in fluid motion. He was a gentleman who upheld the integrity of his artistic vision, which was fertile and prolific. He tantalized and delighted his fans not only with all that he managed to deliver in the span of time he spent here on Earth, but also with all the projects he had in mind. These remain as seeds left behind to inspire the living. The body of work Sleazy left behind is exemplary. - Justin Patrick
It is hard to think of another person that has had as much impact on my cultural development as Peter Christopherson, as Coil was my gateway to a whole new subterranean world of other aberrant musicians, artists, and writers. Equally important is the fact that Sleazy never stopped being relevant, a near impossible feat after more than 3 decades of music-making. I am heartbroken that there will never be another Threshold HouseBoys Choir album and that I will never get to hear X-TG. He will be missed. - Anthony D'Amico
Now available from Brave Mysteries:
CQBL009 | Compass Hour | c40 [Limited edition of 100 Silver on Reflective Black, Chrome Tapes, Cardstock J-Card] Troy Schafer and Nathaniel Ritter, our brethren behind the urfolk band Kinit Her and soon to be known for their work as Wreathes, have been collaborating with Eric Bray of Arctic Hospital since 2005. At that point they formed The World On Higher Downs, a band who would go on to release one full length album and one 7" single in 2007. Now this mysterious unit has shifted focus completely and changed their name to Compass Hour. The name change certainly seems appropriate because their music is so dramatically different, though the line up remains the same, Compass Hour is a new and unique band. This trio, with the assistance of Nathan Tarrant and Vincent Wachowiak, sets aside the daylight of their previous project and serve up a shimmering moonlight ritual. Imagine the ritualistic prog of early Algarnas Tradgard or the witchy melodies of Comus filtered through the cyclical sensibilities of the Theatre of Eternal Music. This album is winding songs of pastoral nightwalks through the northern forests. A processional trance folk band decorated in tense and elegaic arrangements, weary strings and brass, exotic percussion pushing the march while leaving behind only the earthly sinister vibrations that pulse throughout.
Now available from Brave Mysteries:
CQBL010 | Horseback | Forbidden Planet | c38
[Limited edition of 100 White on Clear Blood, Chrome Tapes, Cardstock J-Cards]
Horseback is the psychedelic avant-metal band from Chapel Hill founded and led by multi-instrumentalist musician Jenks Miller. Horseback's last full-length, the entrancing and genre-defying Invisible Mountain, was hoisted through the underground on the Utech and Aurora Borealis labels before finding wide release on Relapse in 2010. Whereas the Invisible Mountain had its own hidden language; Forbidden Planet speaks in tongues. Conjuring a primal brew of severe and otherworld mutations, sounding like everything from blissed-out psychedelic fuzz to distant forest-fed black metal and hideous power electronics all at once. The determined and aggressively transformative atmosphere of Forbidden Planet reaches far beyond the Invisible Mountain's passive hypnosis. As with most Horseback material, hypnotic guitar patterns lead the work, but here they are stripped and broken by chaotic rhythms, submerged in cosmic debris and infused with a blackened alien vocal presence. Six lengthy tracks, featuring the mastering talents of James Plotkin and original artwork from Jenks Miller.
In 1986, Duane Warr retreated to his trailer home with an 8-track recorder to make an album which turns out to be a bit more than a doom-laden, cartoonish amalgam of the antics of everyone who has played air guitar in just their underwear during a dark night of the soul.
Warr's 1984 psych-drone debut Starting Over was ignored and his attempts to make country music also got nowhere. A couple of years later, someone pulled a blade on him at his factory workplace and he apparently went home in an enraged state, and had a dream where he wreaked vengeance and devoured human flesh and bones. Animals is his attempt to make sense of the dream. Anvil, eat your hearts out.
The first 70 seconds of the title track will be enough for most listeners to either embrace (or be repulsed by) the ridiculous beauty of Dwarr. Grunts and howls and squealing synths preface plodding sub-Sabbath earnestness. Actually, a glance at the album cover may be all that is needed: Warr in bare-chested He-Man pose, sword aloft, snake wrapped around his leg, human skull nearby, cannibals feasting, a partially submerged Statue of Liberty in the middle distance and a crumbling city on the horizon.
Animals is a subterranean impression of 1970s progressive rock; and a bleary crude blueprint for a psychedelic version of doom-metal. Key track may be "Are You Real" with its chorus of "Christ, Christ are you real?" sounding as much an unfortunate cry of sexual passion as the anguished plea of a man on the cusp of the spiritual transformation which would occur as Duane Warr found God (or vice versa). "Lonely Space Traveler" has a contrasting slower pace that is not so much relaxed as completely over-medicated; with Warr singing a standard rebuke to the human failure to treat all hobos as if they could be the messiah (or words to that noble effect).
This project might be called "outsider art" but I don't care for the way that somewhat patronizing term can label artists eccentric or mentally ill as a way of stimulating interest. Animals is an oddity, but it represents an honest attempt to document some weird feelings with what the artist had at hand: a few instruments, fierce motivation and less than state-of-the-art technology. That said, Duane Warr is now a realtor and I can only hope he never sets out to record an album about that.
Gregory Scharpen’s latest EP under the pseudonym Thomas Carnacki (named after the main character in William Hope Hodgson’s series of ghost finder stories) sounds like one of those Victorian spirit photographs made music. Whether it is a trick of the mind or a psychic invasion, these four pieces unsettle and disorientate like malevolent specters.
 
Scharpen has served a tour of duty accompanying Matt Waldron in some of irr. app. (ext.)’s live incarnations and echoes of Waldron’s neosurrealist compositions appear fleetingly during The Disappearance of This Terrible Spool. The sonic experiments kick-started by Coil as Black Light District or on The Remote Viewer are also given a look in by Scharpen. Here he attempts to open up listeners' worldview to the things that are best ignored; tapping into mental states that may tap back.
However, the music here is cut from a very different cloth and the weird moods of Hope Hodgson’s short stories are more evident than any musical influence. Ectoplasmic tendrils form unfathomable noises as unknown machines creak, click and rattle. It is easy to imagine Scharpen recording this within his own electric pentacle. "Ecstasy, Vaguely Porous (A Palindrome)," a mercifully short and terrifying piece, looks behind the curtain of death. Pale voices writhe in a desolate ether, eternally alone.
I knew from my first time listening to The Disappearance of This Terrible Spool that it was something special but recently it has begun to encroach into my thoughts. Scharpen has managed to create something truly supernatural, avoiding any of the pitfalls or the usual clichés of "spooky" music. This is not an homage to horror soundtracks or a work of generic dark ambient music, this is a whole other world where art and the afterlife briefly touch.
 
The tenth full-length from Asteroid No. 4 finds this group of professed musicologists flowing between a myriad of musical styles, each tinged with the band’s brand of psychedelia, with a balance between jangly and anthemic melodies. Having relocated from Philadelphia to the Bay Area, their sound takes on a less grungy east coast feel, opting for a more open, "cool" west coast feel, extra bass added to offset the lighter notes with heavier undertones. While less drenched in lysergic reverb, their romance with the past still runs deep, nostalgia a key thread throughout the album.
Cardinal Fuzz (Europe) / Little Cloud Records (USA)
Part of the independent psych scene since the mid 1990s, the group has a penchant for textured guitars and reverb-drenched harmonies reminiscent of the British indie sound of the 80s and 90s, with doses of late 60s jangle that inspired their music. Northern Songs finds them truly DIY, entirely in their own studio with no guest appearances, and mixing and mastering entirely by the band for the first time since 2006. The title itself refers to the location of the newly located band to their northern California studio in San Rafael. Yet their latest offers a more polished sound, trading reverb for atmosphere, and dialing up the bass for a more polished but haunting effect, as on "Swiss Mountain Myth." The song was inspired when inclement weather stranded the band in a small Swiss town with their tour bus driver, with whom relationships were already strained, and whom had taken to carrying around a machete-sized knife. The band attributes the event as their personal version of The Shining. While polished, this does not mean the album is refined of all edges; there are bangers like "All Mixed Up" and "Hand Grenade" that take no prisoners, and fuzzed out spacescapes like the riffs-heavy "No One Weeps."
Their reverence to 80s-90s reverb can be heard on "No One Weeps," with a bass line reminiscent of Psychocandy, but musical elements aren’t limited to this era alone; in fact, "Paint it Green" could potentially be mistaken for a reworking of David Bowie’s "Heroes." The group pulls from their musical knowledge to incorporate homages across decades, from 60s pop and beyond, but is not bound to any decade, timeless pop hooks that find a home just as easily in 2020. Lyrically, the album is scattered with current social and political commentary. Hooky, well-crafted melodies provide an air of pop-driven nostalgia, hearkening back to what may feel, to many, like a more normal time compared to today.
On this beautifully presented little 7", Japanese artist Sawako Kato uses a variety of found sounds to create an audio representation of what are or will become fossils, either literally or conceptually. With one side sourced from handmade crystal radio recordings and the other being field recordings of a then-abandoned amusement park, the sense of emptiness and decay is clear among the subtle sounds presented.
The A side of the record consists of random radio recordings around Brooklyn, New York, that (I assume) Sawako carefully processed and edited to create a somber, yet relaxing composition.Quiet, but dense walls of voice fragments and pieces of conversation appear over long, spreading passages of somber melody in "Radio Stone," all the while relaxing bits of static can be heard.There is a certain nostalgia in hearing that static that anyone who owned a small, cheap portable AM or FM radio will surely feel, a sound that is alien to anyone who has only experienced MP3s or internet radio stations.The short "Dot" that follows is mostly made up of silence, with the occasional blip of voice or interference appearing.
On the flip side, "Season Off" is untreated field recordings from the Astroland amusement park in Coney Island, which was, at this time, closed to the public.Distant car horns can be heard, but the creaking doors and metal scraping that appears is quite jarring and somewhat painful to hear, especially when paired with the long passages of emptiness.The second piece "Astro Land" sounds exactly as expected from a field recording in an abandoned park.The only real sound to be heard is the howling wind, affected by the still, lifeless rides that were just sitting there to decay.
While I found the processed melodies of "Radio Stone" to be quite beautiful, I thought the Astroland recordings on the B side were the most fascinating.They are the epitome of what field recordings should be:they do more than just capture the ambient sounds, but also present a mood and image of the location and its context.While this amusement park and traditional radio may be in the process of fossilization, this document is a compelling one that ensures neither will be forgotten.
Originally composed for five channel video installations by artist Byron Westbrook (who has worked with the likes of Rhys Chatham and Phill Niblock), the four pieces that make up this album stand strongly on their own as a traditional two channel listening experience. Based upon a variety of pre-recorded and live sources, some of which were weaved together to create singular works, the results often show little semblance of their original forms and become something else entirely.
The four works on this album were all composed in distinctly different ways.The first piece was a live studio improvisation for trumpet, guitar and autoharp that was then mangled and processed live for performance.Opening with delicate, shimmering sounds and soft currents of tone, the piece eventually segues into louder, more commanding passages, but never becomes too much.Bits that resemble sustained notes on a violin or cello arise towards the end, but are obviously not actually there.However, what might be the forceful notes of a trumpet almost seem recognizable towards the end, but that could be a complete fabrication of my mind.
The second track is comprised of two different performances using only guitar feedback that are molded into a completely different sonic character, though at times the unmistakable squall of guitar noise seems to be irrepressible.The piece emphasizes the subtle elements of feedback, focusing on the hum that builds into noise.Undulating, rhythmic elements appear, as does an overarching sense of restrained heaviness…the intensity we all associate with a blast of feedback is there, but kept at bay like a wild animal.
The two remaining pieces were built from a total of five performances, all utilizing processed recordings of viola, organ, and found sounds.Interestingly, but unsurprisingly, both go in extremely different directions.The first of these two pieces has an overall more abrasive feeling, with crackling sounds and machinery like textures.It’s quiet, but there is a consistent stuttering metallic din to be heard that slowly builds in intensity.Of the entire album, this is probably the weakest piece in my opinion, simply because it is rather monochrome and heavily focused on repetition.
The second, however, is the only one here in which the true sounds of the source material can actually be heard.Opening with a digitally reassembled passage of viola, it then leads into mostly untouched heavy organ sounds, with delicate strings to accompany it.The processing elements here are far more subtle:towards the second half it is mostly just used to stretch the more traditional tones out to infinity, creating an enveloping mass of sound that eventually goes out like a lamb, ending on the smallest of sounds.
While there is definitely an overarching concept of using and reusing live performances in a live context, this is a strong piece of audio even without any knowledge of how it was created.While personally I would have enjoyed being able to hear a true five channel mix of these installations at home, this stereo version is still enough to satisfy.
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Recorded just towards the end of the career, the Philadelphia noise rock trio ends up departing on a definite up note. This four track EP is an exemplary one, capturing both the surly, filth driven noise scuzz with the melodic, '80s death rock leanings that vocalist John Sharkey would carry over to his current Puerto Rico Flowers project.
There almost seems to be a bit of intentional obscurity in the structure of the disc, with the opening and closing tracks being very in-line with 2007's Babylon Rules and all its grimy punk violence, while the two sandwiched in the middle are much more melodic in nature, almost like the band was a bit apprehensive of this "softer side" being heard initially.The opening "Pissing At The Moon" is, therefore, not unexpected in the least for anyone who knows Clockcleaner.Crawling along at a snail's pace with sharp, trashy metallic drums and a basic repeating guitar rhythm, Sharkey's voice is up front, bring along the dramatic monotone style that is the obvious result of hearing every worthwhile goth band of the 1980s.
The closer, "Midnight Beach," channels the trio's industrial heritage with the rapid fire drums and random percussion sounds thrown around with reckless abandon.Between that and the distorted, bass led opening and outbursts of guitar squall, there's more than a hint of Swans and Big Black to be found, of course with the requisite deadpan vocals.
Squeezed between these two blood and shit covered outbursts are two songs that show a very different Clockcleaner sound."Chinese Town" uses ragged high pitched guitar and simple, plodding drums, but opens up with dramatic flourishes of sound that is the very definition of the sum being greater than the parts.In addition, the presence of what at least resembles a guitar solo and actual moments of melody in the vocals, rather than the morose, autistic approach that’s usually utilized creates a song that’s definitely catchier than the usual audio abuse.Lyrics like "Everyone I have ever loved is sleeping in the ground" keep it grounded in familiar territory, however.
"Something's On Her Mind" pushes those barriers even more, with a guitar sound that screams "new wave" at the onset, more actual singing, and a sense of propulsion that is quite different than the usual zombie death march.Even some of the grime is stripped away, to the point where it sounds almost "normal," although with old school demo tape aesthetics.This feels like the jumping off point that lead to Puerto Rico Flowers, with its slightly less morbid feel and catchier songs.
As far as "final albums" go, Clockcleaner at least went out on top of their game, pleasing fans with familiar material while still dabbling in new realms, and not simply shatting something out to cash in on any sort of legacy.While it's always sad to hear a band I like ceasing to exist, at least it is a strong, memorable exit from this world.
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While I have always associated Shiflet with his harsher noise output, his work goes much deeper than that, and this self-released album demonstrates his versatility. His synthesis of harsh noise, droning textures, and hidden melodies showcases a careful equilibrium that he retains throughout.
Shiflet is also known for his graphic design work (he's responsible for the iconic continuity of recent Intransitive Records releases), so it's not surprising that his audio works retain a similar sense of care and restraint to his visual arts, pushing boundaries but with the caution and consideration of an artist.This is even more overt on Llanos, as he juggles three different, often disparate styles seemingly with ease.
The opening "Antrim" exemplifies this, mixing a chirping mechanical drone, buried, stuttering guitar melodies, and a bit of raw noise that never reaches an abrasive point.It’s a beautiful combination, with the static drone elements, the dynamic melodies, and the chaos of noise living together in perfect harmony.
The long "Pink Meadow" uses its duration to create a more diverse composition, slowly building up from filtered static into subtle changes and variations, adding in what sounds like distant field recordings and soft, melodic tones that eventually outpace the static, allowing the musical elements to overtake.While shorter, the title track allows things to go the other way, throwing a distant malfunctioning television together with a bit of digital noise.In comparision to the other tracks, this one errs a bit more on the side of noise, but only ever so slightly, continuing to balance the different sounds beautifully.
The second half of the album has a different, more somber mood in my opinion, with the abrasive squawking electronics of "Sunbathers" obscuring a dark musical drone.The short "Web Over Glen Echo" strips away most of the noise moments in lieu of a filmic ambience, with muted tones audible in a far off corner."Gunpowder (For Raglani)" also relies on sad tones that are amongst a layer of varying static, cyclic melodies that are offset by the slightly abrasive noises.It builds to a sense of hypnotic repetition that becomes soothing and relaxing, but still allows a variety of subtle and varying sonic textures to be heard.
In his description of the disc, Shiflet's quote "the noise and the music have made peace" couldn't be a more concise descriptor for this album.It's not an easy endeavor, in my opinion, to work in these very different contexts without leaning too heavily into one side or another, but here it seems to be done with ease.Llanos is an album in which subtlety and beauty can, and should be enjoyed by all adherents to the genres he works within.
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Campbell Kneale has been enjoying quite an impressive creative rebirth since retiring Birchville Cat Motel and re-emerging as Our Love Will Destroy the World, but he wound up with an extremely difficult predicament on his hands in the process: 2009's Fucking Dracula Clouds pretty much perfected the art of being as gnarled, ugly, and visceral as possible and took guitar-based noise about as far as it could logically go.  Unwilling to repeat himself, these two new albums document Kneale's struggle to emerge from that stylistic cul de sac and find innovative new ways to remain vital and nightmarish.
It took me a while to warm to Krayon's Blue Eyes Are My Reward because it feels a bit restrained and scattered compared to past Our Love Will Destroy the World albums.  In fact, the exuberantly strummed acoustic guitar in "Kisses Flaming Hell" approximates what I envision Swervedriver jamming at a beach party might sound like (which is "pretty damn annoying," actually).  However, the rest of the album is pretty unwaveringly excellent despite Kneale's many bold departures from his comfort zone. He does include one characteristically snarling hellscape in the roaring "Triple Encryption Dynasty" that should please anyone hoping for more typical OLWDTW fare, but the remainder of the record is packed full of unexpected surprises ranging from psych-damaged bagpipe drones to tabla-driven ethno-ambiance.  There are also several songs that call to mind a more muscular version of mid-period Zoviet France, melding insistently looping pile-ups of odd percussion, field recordings, and voices with strangled and warped guitars. The fact that very few of these pieces are immediately recognizable as Our Love Will Destroy The World could arguably be considered a flaw, but that is an inherent and unavoidable peril with evolution in general.  This is a very impressive and unexpected effort.
Dekorder's I Hate Even Numbers, on the other hand, is significantly more immediate, distinct, abrasive, and consistent, yet falls quite flat progression-wise.  Thematically, Kneale stays pretty focused on further exploring the possibilities of incorporating thumping beats and deep bass lines to his usual ear-searing, cacophonous onslaught. The dance music elements are generally kept pretty straightforward, like the four-on-the-floor house beat of the title cut, but that seems to be the point: rendering danceable grooves undanceable with shrill feedback, metallic whines, and a litany of non-musical sounds.  Unfortunately, Kneale doesn't quite go anywhere worthwhile with it on the first half of the album, opting to idly ravage unchanging beats without much in the way of pay-off.  The second side of the album is a bit more inventive, as both "Snipers on Skis" and "Twins Like Swans" are built upon unusual mutant-Indian beats, but it still can't escape feeling like a series of underdeveloped song skeletons.  The album's brightest spot is "Tokyo Modern Magic" which marries a somewhat anthemic synth motif to grinding guitar noise and bubbling electronics with some success.  It still fails to evolve much, but it achieves a kind of immersive power simply through sheer density and activity.  I Hate Even Numbers is definitely heavy and attention-grabbing, but its appeal dies rapidly with repeat listens.
Blue Eyes Are My Reward Samples:
I Hate Even Numbers Samples:
 
 
