21 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Julianna Barwick’s Florine has an enveloping dreamlike atmosphere built from multi-layered vocals and simple instrumental loops. Her choral abstractions are pretty and affecting but will need expanding or she risks being as musically trapped as a third unknown Cocteau Twin who died as an infant yet gibbers from a buried shoebox.

Florid Recordings

Barwick originates from Louisiana and resides in Brooklyn by way of Oklahoma, but Florine carries no discernible residue from those, or indeed any other places. Instead, this six song self-release evokes states related to the feeling of being in motion, in ecstasy, perhaps in space, or at least floating in a slightly (if not most) peculiar way. On "Sunlight, Heaven" and "Cloudbank," the layered voices resemble a cloned pack of mysterious female Bulgarian folk singers as gorgeous squeaks repeatedly push against the human/dog hearing barrier and deep throbs and murmurs add the effect of a non-orgiastic yet impossibly sublime religious ritual. "The Highest" perhaps most resembles the aforementioned buried would-be doppelganger of Liz Fraser.

Listening in my car to the sections on the album with words that are either deliberately indecipherable or in a made up language, brought back a glorious memory. One beautiful Saturday afternoon in 1987 I was driving in Cambridgeshire with windows up and stereo loudly playing Eno’s Apollo album. Inconceivably puffy clouds lay against a blue sky as the vehicle passed slowly through manicured villages. After some slightly challenging pieces, the track "Ascent" (which has been described as a "reversed choir") put me in a hopelessly awed state where every little thing seemed cinematic, slowed, and significant.

Several of Barwick’s pieces may induce a similar feeling or even an approximation of "saudade" (the Portuguese word for) a longing for something fondly recalled, which is gone, but might return in a distant future yet which carries a fatalist knowledge that the object of longing might really never return. In 1912, A.F.G. Bell described this feeling as "a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, for something other than the present, a turning towards the past or towards the future; not an active discontent or poignant sadness but an indolent dreaming wistfulness." I am also reminded of Lord Buckley’s "Subconscious Mind" in which he spouts in touching yet hipster detail about someone he was nuts for before remarking upon how he just drove the last few miles in a total trancelike state.

Florine does perhaps have one or two obvious clues as to how Barwick might avoid becoming Enya. For example, "Choose" has a slightly more tribal feel with the chant of "anyway you choose" and a soft pulsing rhythm which might be a sped-up heart beat. Also, the piano and sad pastoral moaning on "Anjos" hint at the lovely duets of Virginia Astley and David Sylvian and the possibility of a fuller and broader sound. I doubted Bibio could break out of his previous musical maze but with Ambivalence Avenue he has done just that. Hopefully Julianna Barwick can progress beyond these looped hypnotic sketches of sound. For me that will be essential, as the vocal gymnastics of the final track "Bode" either are a bit of a mess or my tolerance was reached by the five preceding songs. Anyhow, drive carefully while listening.

samples:

 

• Cloudbank
• Choose
• Anjos

 

 

20 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

My longstanding hope that the child-eating Balinese demon queen will release an album has yet to come to fruition, but I am now able to content myself with the next best thing, as her name has been appropriated for a staggering improvised collaboration between Chris Corsano, Sir Richard Bishop, and Ben Chasney. By turns violent, soulful, and mantric, False Flag is an unpredictable, spontaneous, and sometimes uneven debut, but also a fascinating and attention-grabbing one.

Drag City

False Flag begins in an extremely chaotic and abrasive way, as the very brief "Waldorf Hysteria" is essentially two minutes of unmitigated frenzy from all three players.Aside from the fleeting Middle Eastern-tinged surf guitar motif that leads into it, the guitars could’ve been played by literally anybody frantically moving their fingers and their pick as fast as possible.As such, it is simultaneously underwhelming and overwhelming. These guys are capable of much, much more (as they later prove), but they sure woke me up and made it clear that things might get quite blistering.The album actually begins in earnest with the second track, "Bull Lore," which occupies some sort of odd nexus between classic rock, noir, and ripping blues-y guitar solos.It’s quite an unexpectedly restrained, melodic, and conventionally "rock" piece (especially after the album’s searing introduction), but quite an enjoyable one.It is weird to hear Bishop playing a straightforward rock guitar solo or Corsano acting like a simple supporting drummer, but there are occasional eruptions that make it clear that I am still listening to the same band.

The trio resumes trying to tear my head off with the incendiary third track, "Fist Family," as Bishop and Chasney trade clashing and howling sustained notes over what is essentially an absolutely apocalyptic drum solo.It is the first moment of the album where it all finally clicks and it seems like Rangda have some chemistry, as the two guitarists seemed to intuitively grasp that Corsano’s drumming is the song, then set about finding the perfect way to complement it without competing for the focus.

"Sarcophagi" continues album’s sequencing theme of alternating back-and-forth between unhinged entropy and restrained melodicism.I think Bishop handles lead guitar again, unfolding a beautiful and soulful solo over an absolutely sublime chord progression that continually threatens to turn into a solo itself.Corsano, for his part, seems to have finally found the sweet spot between being wildly explosive and pretending to be a regular drummer, as he manages to stay very busy and Corsano-esque without intruding into the foreground.It’s simply a great piece, period, capturing the trio at their individual and collective heights.

As expected, "Serrated Edges" plunges back into the cacophonous maelstrom, a feat that it doesn’t pull off as well as "Fist Family."Nevertheless, it certainly whips up quite a frenzy and Bishop and Chasney manage to inject a bit more of their personalities into this one (which is not easy when you are fighting to be heard over a Chris Corsano eruption).It is followed by the album’s closer, "Plain of Jars," which steers the trio into more pastoral territory with an epic, Eastern-tinged, and psych-inspired jam.It isn’t my favorite piece on the album, but it certainly meanders along in amiable fashion, never outstaying its fifteen-minute running time.That might be because it seems like the least improvised piece here, as it features seamless transitions between sections and, more tellingly, dual-guitar harmonies and an overdubbed piano.Thankfully, it catches fire at the end, as Bishop and Corsano both let themselves get a bit wild for the outro.Also, it made me suddenly realize that I would probably like a lot more vintage psychedelia and hippy-tinged krautrock if the drummers had not been so damn dull.

I’d love to know how much of this album was actually improvised and how much preparation was involved, as the band had only played together for a total of 90 minutes before playing their first show and these recording sessions happened soon afterward.Neither Bishop nor Chasney delve much into the stylistic territory that they are best known for, which could either be the result of a deliberate decision to do something different or just what comes out when they are suddenly put on the spot.Either way, it is illuminating to hear this side of their playing.There are definitely a couple of great pieces here ("Fist Family" and "Sarcophagi") that can stand with any of the band members’ individual work, but much of the album tries to get by on raw power alone or seems to just teasingly hint at greater potential.That said, it is a major musical event just for these three guys to wind up in the same room together and such a sudden union is destined to yield wildly varying results.False Flag isn’t quite a great album, but it definitely has some serious flashes of brilliance and makes a strong argument for making every possible effort to see these three play together before their other activities pull them apart.

samples:

• Sarcophagi
• Fist Family
• Waldorf Hysteria

 

20 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

In keeping with Sublime Frequencies' lengthy tradition of unearthing bizarre and amazing music that I didn’t even know existed, guerrilla ethnomusicologist Hisham Mayet’s latest offering delves into the raucous nightlife of Marrakech’s legendary open-air marketplace  Managing to talk his way through a longstanding ban on the close recording of performers, Mayet captures the raw power of three of Jemaa El Fna’s most compelling acts as they blast though blistering, electrified renditions of classic Moroccan pop using homemade rigs of car batteries and megaphone speakers.

Sublime Frequencies

Jemaa El-Fna has many possible translations, all of them very enigmatic and somewhat sinister: The Mosque at the End of the World, Rendezvous of the Dead, Place of the Vanished Mosque, Mosque of Annihilation, and several other equally colorful possibilities.More concretely, it is a large central square in the "old city" section of Marrakech that is one of the weirder and wilder marketplaces on earth.By day, it is populated by an eclectic and tourist-friendly array of snake charmers, orange juice and water vendors, tarot card readers, numerologists, trained Barbary apes, henna tattooists, and herbal potion vendors.And a single and very anachronistic dentist.Once the sun goes down, however, the square undergoes a complete transformation into something much more vibrant, unhinged, and packed with natives.All the daytime vendors disappear, and the market gradually fills with an wide array of food stalls, magicians, acrobats, storytellers, dancing transvestites, and (of course) street musicians.

The three groups that Hisham recorded are ostensibly "cover bands," as their repertoire is composed mostly of work by ‘70s/’80s protest/folk groups like Lemchaheb and Nass El Ghiwane (whom Martin Scorscese once called "the Rolling Stones of Africa").Notably, however, the original pieces are rendered almost unrecognizable by the volume, energy, and passion needed to grab (and hold) the attention of a bustling square filled with people (and competing musicians).This is a very "punk" take on the Moroccan musical canon, filled with violent twangs, wah-wah-pedaled banjos, overdriven amplifiers, furious picking, and explosive percussion.The more sparse moments, like "Tal Riabak Arzali" by solo oud player Mustapha Mahjoub, tend to be the most satisfying from a purely musical standpoint, but it is the more furious percussion blow-outs like Troupe Majidi’s "Khoudrini" that probably best capture the boisterous intensity of the scene.

Naturally, given that this album was recorded in a crowded public square and that the musicians are playing through ramshackle and hopelessly overwhelmed amplifiers, the sound quality is quite raw.As a consequence, pretty much all of the subtleties of the much tamer original artists’ works (which are well-worth checking out) are lost, but it doesn’t matter at all.These recordings are a different animal altogether. Ecstatic Music of The Jemaa El Fna has its sights set on something a bit more difficult than simply immortalizing fiery, innovative takes on some great music—it aims to immerse the listener in an atmosphere that is wholly exotic, rapturous, unique, and gloriously alive (and succeeds as well as could possibly be hoped). Mayet has put together an undeniably exciting and very immediate album (and one that has turned me onto to some very cool Moroccan music), but Ecstatic Music works even better at planting the seeds for an overwhelming compulsion to hop on a plane to Marrakech immediately.

Samples:

• Amal Saha- Lahmami
• Mustapha Mahjoub- Tal Raibak Arzali
• Troupe Majidi- Essiniya

 

20 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Frequently lauded as a high water mark for metal, industrial, and any form of abrasive music in general, Streetcleaner has been included in numerous "Top X of Y" lists since it was first released some 21 years ago. Seeing as how the duo has agreed to perform a reunion show at this year's Hellfest in France this weekend, it is a convenient time for the label to reissue this disc, as well as for me to take a new, critical look at it. Remastered with an entire second disc of alternate/demo/live/rehearsal tracks and overseen by Broadrick himself, it's obviously more of a labor of love than a quick cash grab, and the quality of it makes that apparent.

Earache

When first issued in 1989, Streetcleaner was definitely a different monster than other albums on the metal scene.Having already created grindcore with Napalm Death and coming off a stint as Head of David's drummer, Justin Broadrick decided to resurrect his Fall of Because project, opting to play guitar rather than drums (letting a machine take that role), while G.C. Green stayed on bass, and with guitarist Paul Neville staying on for half of the album.It was an album that crossed many "difficult" genres, something Godflesh had started with their first EP, the self-titled release from the previous year.Using the cold precision of a drum machine paired with the barely under control guitar tone, Godflesh formed to push the meandering, sludgy Swans guitar sound with the rhythmic mechanization of contemporary industrial bands to create something that never really "fit" in any pigeon-hole, but somehow managed to appease everyone.

Even though the presentation of this album originally screamed "death metal", there were more than enough signs that it wasn't really an appropriate description, all the way down to the presentation.As everyone knows, grindcore and death metal bands are always in a competition to create the most unreadable pen and ink logo for the band humanly possible, a trend that was still happening in 1989.Rather than that, Godflesh always opted for the bold, Impact font typeface that was the polar opposite. Secondly, though the cover art bears the same violent-blasphemy vibe of death metal, here it was actually a still from Altered States (definitely not a crude sketch of Satan eating Jesus while playing Connect 4 with naked women or whatever else was hot in death metal art then).So it makes sense that, though there are definite traces of those genres here, it is a beast all its own.

The introduction to Streetcleaner is one that stands with the best of any album:the sparse, but menacing feedback that colors the opening before the riffs and drum machine erupt on "Like Rats" sets a tone of darkness that’s enshrouds the whole album.From then, the album never relents; however, it never becomes stale or boring in its continuous bludgeoning.As much as I love Swans, I always found it more of an endurance test to listen to the compiled Cop/Young God release in one sitting, but the oppressive blackness here maintains enough variation to never become "too much."The sludge of "Like Rats" nicely feeds into the jagged, erratic rhythmic structure of "Christbait Rising," which itself transitions into the dour, martial rhythms of "Pulp."

The synthetic elements of the Godflesh sound aren't as overtly presented here, and even the drum machine runs programs a human drummer could play more often than not."Devastator/Mighty Trust Krusher" is one of these exceptions; the predominant part of the track is heaver rhythms and violent dialog and announcement samples akin to Cabaret Voltaire's earlier works.The title track follows a similar pattern, opening with samples of a murderer discussing his crimes over a deep, menacing synth before launching full force into a dual guitar assault, with Broadrick and Neville tackling the high and low frequency spectrums while the machine fires away like the submachine gun the track is named after.

Unlike some other recent reissue campaigns, the four bonus tracks, also known as the Tiny Tears EP remain intact.I could see the band making the argument that they aren't part of Streetcleaner, because they have a different sound and vibe, but thankfully they chose not to go that route.These four songs are rather unlike anything the band did previously, or did ever again.Four short blasts of muffled guitar/bass skree with a rhythm structure closer to punk rock than metal, with Broadrick's vocals buried in the murky mix create something unique, and to me always made a wonderful epilogue to the album.The more uptempo (in purely relative terms) tunes here seemingly were forgotten afterward, with the exception of "Wound" that appeared in a rerecorded form as the other side of "Slateman," but are a pleasant little side note to history.

As for the remastering job, it's definitely louder, but not excessively so.I checked this visually with editing software and found that there's no digital clipping, nor was there any overuse of compression.Considering the source material though, the only true audio dynamic in place to begin with was "loud," so I didn't think that was going to be a problem.A side by side comparison reveals that the new issue is slightly sharper, with a greater high end presence:the snare drum hits sound more piercing and guitar feedback is more shrill.Played loudly enough, it is a bit more of a painful listen, but I think that was always the point.Since Broadrick himself was in charge of the audio clean-up, I figure it's going to be faithful to his original intent.

The bonus tracks on disc two are luckily ones that are more than of just historical interest.The current trend of reissuing old albums with "demos" appended usually results in me saying to myself "oh, yeah, that's interesting how that song used to sound" and then never listening to it again.It's not the case here:the first five pieces on the bonus disc are the initial mixes of the first side of the album that the band decided to tweak later.Broadrick comments in the liner notes that he can’t remember why the band decided to redo these tracks, and that shines through:these could be the original album and no one would really complain.There are differences, i.e., the sharper drum attack and less treated vocals on "Christbait Rising" and greater vocal effects on "Pulp," but the variations are rather subtle. In general, these mixes are strong enough to stand on their own, even with the occasional source material issue:being mastered from cassette, there’s a bit of tape hiss and the occasional drop-out, but nothing to get upset over.

The live takes of "Streetcleaner" and "Head Dirt," recorded during the band’s first major European tour in 1990 are both strong documents of the era, the former sounding even more unhinged and manic than the album take, including a drastically different sounding guitar part from Neville.The jerky stop/start rhythms of "Head Dirt" don't sound as clean live, with significantly more feedback and noise from the guitars.

The rehearsal recordings are another matter, sounding as if they were recorded to a walkman sitting in the practice room with the band.For that reason alone, the fidelity is less than appealing, but give additional insight into what the band sounded like in a live setting at this time.The final two tracks are perhaps the most revealing:two track guitar/machine demos of "Suction" and "Dead Head."Stripped down, the underlying melody of these tracks can be heard far more than they could in the final release.While not as compelling as the finished versions, they’re interesting on their own, with the former showing a bit of post-punk influence in the riffs, while the later comes across as a perverse take on surf rock.

Considering its faithful remastering and plethora of bonus material, this is a worthy reissuing.While I'm sure there will be many who prefer the original recording of the album and decry the additional material as unnecessary, it rounds out the experience of the original album nicely.A monumental album in the history of "heavy" music and, while it’s not as singular today as it was upon its original release, it has lost none of its strength or power in the past 21 years.

samples:

• Christbait Rising
• Tiny Tears
• Streetcleaner (Live Geneva 1990)

 

20 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

In the mid 1990s Godflesh, along with label mates Napalm Death, Cathedral and Carcass, had a brief flirtation with the major labels in the US. Because of this, their CDs made it to the lame mall record store, leading to my initial exposure to the band. Admittedly, it was a mixed reaction: Selfless took a while to fully "grab" me, and Merciless had its pros and cons. After some time, both would eventually click, and may very well represent my favorite era in their career, compiled into a slim two disc set.

Earache

I first picked up the Merciless EP on a whim:I'd heard the band's name tossed about, but always equated them more with the death metal scene (which I was, and mostly am, still not a fan of).Eventually there was enough discussion of them as "industrial" to pique my Skinny Puppy and Front Line Assembly loving attention, and for me in these pre-Web days, the only way to hear new music was to buy a disc.I had mixed feelings when I first heard the downtuned slow riffs and sludgy pulse of the title track.I was ok with the riffs:Rabies was always my favorite Skinny Puppy album, and I still had a love for Ministry at this time, but the growling "metal" vocals turned me off.The more lush chorus parts, where Justin Broadrick actually sings, I thought were great, however.

The following "Blind" and "Unworthy" were a bit too "out there" for me at the time.It was definitely industrial, but more in the classical sense, which I wasn't yet familiar with. Both were built using various samples of Broadrick's guitar, from live and rehearsal tapes, to create a harsh sound more akin to SPK or early Cabaret Voltaire, with the steadfast Alesis drum machine pounding away unfettered and G. C. Green's noisy, loose bass grinding away.The final song on the EP, "Flowers," was listed as a "demix" (originally "Don’t Bring Me Flowers" from the prior Pure), which is exactly as it sounds:the more conventionally structured track is stripped to its barest skeleton.The result is fascinating:the looped guitar noise and ambience is paired with Green's harsh bass and a deconstruction of the guitar solo from the original track, which is possibly one of the purest, most beautiful guitar sounds ever on a Godflesh record.

Selfless, on the other hand, is one of the least experimental Godflesh recordings, which now I believe is its greatest strength.Broadrick has stated that it was their intentional "rock" album, which is what I've now grown to appreciate.While they continued that sound into 1996's Songs of Love and Hate and reprised it on their final album, 2001's Hymns, here it is presented as intentionally cold and sterile as possible.Before integrating live drums into the mix, it was simply the stoic precision of a drum machine, very restrained use of synths, and jagged shards of Broadrick's guitar.

The strongest songs, in my opinion, are the more subdued, emotion tinged ones.Now that Broadrick has publically declared his appreciation for The Cure, especially in their early days, it’s not hard to see that "Empyreal" and "Black Boned Angel" have a vibe akin to Faith, albeit with a much heavy bent.The former is a lugubrious track that stands with Merciless in defining slow heaviness, crawling along with an intentional simplicity, all the way to the lyrics ("Not, everyone can carry, the weight of the world/Feel my decay, feel so alone") that manages to fill six minutes with ease."Black Boned Angel" conveys a similar sense of inward turned despair that doesn’t relent, but doesn’t feel forced or contrived at all.No histrionics or forced emotion, they both display a monastic asceticism towards rock music that make them my favorite tracks on the album.

The closest thing to a single on this album is "Crush My Soul," which is one of the few traditionally "metal" tracks:a heavily mechanized rhythm section and guitar squall is matched with Broadrick’s screamed, overly aggressive vocals.Early on it was TOO metal for me, but I have grown to appreciate it over the years."Anything is Mine" is another from this template, and I still feel it's one of the lower points on the album, from its overtly heavy sound and some rather weak lyrics ("I declare that we're all just shit/And I believe, we'll die like it") make it stand out as a sore thumb in an otherwise great album.

The album also follows Pure in putting a far more adventurous song as a bonus on the CD, in this case the nearly 24 minute "Go Spread Your Wings.""Pure II," the similarly difficult piece on the previous album, was far more abrasive, consisting of a guitar noise and feedback dual between Broadrick and then-second guitarist Robert Hampson that surely left the metal fans scratching their head, but this one is far more varied in its structure.Opening with repeated processed piano sounds and metal scrapes awash in reverb, it slowly builds into a slow, pummeling juggernaut of sound.The heavily detuned bass guitar, which is more of a percussion instrument here creates a vast, hollow metal vortex that eventually engulfs everything, leaving the final eight minutes as a vast abyss of guitar fragments falling apart. The final moments are one more of warm beauty rather than the cold, desolate precision that preceded it.

The two disc reissue appends two tracks to Merciless, remixes of "Crush My Soul" and "Xnoybis" from the Crush My Soul single.Unlike others, Godflesh used this not as an opportunity to appease the dance floor or to fill up a b-side, but as a way to indulge in their more electronic tendencies."Crush My Soul (Ultramix)" recalls Broadrick's work with Techno Animal and The Sidewinder, stripping the track down to a grimy breakbeat and Green's garage-door-spring bass, only bringing in the guitar during the chorus moments.Over the 15 minute duration, there's even a subtle bit of acid house synth that appears, completing the industrial/metal/techno concept they first toyed with on the remixes from Slavestate and predating the electronic/rock music crossovers that would appear a few years later."Xnoybis (Psychofuckdub)" stretches the initial song to some 17 minutes in length, deconstructing it bar by bar into a post-rock sound collage, reserving the latter half to a minimalist recording of sound decay.

To have this era of Godflesh concisely compiled into this two disc set is quite convenient, removing the need to track down singles and EPs; the only mix that’s not here is the "Clubdub" Mix of Xnoybis, which appeared only on a promo single and in an edited form on the shoddy In All Languages compilation.Although I must say, the god-awful packaging should be criticized.I know that conceptually the "moving picture" type textured case that shows the original cover of both releases is interesting in theory, in execution it is a major disservice to a band who's stark design and artwork was always an important part of the presentation.The music is the important thing, of course, but it's still a nauseating blight on an otherwise glorious collection.

samples:

• Empyreal
• Flowers
• Crush My Soul (Ultramix)

 

20 June 2010

Albums and Singles

Wasted and Ready, the first song on the single, is fast and furious.  It's ever melodic overtones caress the song's ebb and flow.  The singer however croons the best on the next track.  On this one, he sounds half amazed, and stubborn.  Averkiou definitely has a romantic quality, as it looks through life on a porch with an overblown, oversized monocle.  The intricate guitar work lets the drummer take shape of the song, letting it vibrate with stability throughout.  The rad thing about Averkiou is that they seem to glance at things with instability, an angelic voice for a singer.  The two fuzz pop songs ring true even at a distance.  When the record is over we are left to wonder where the band will go next.

The bonus mp3 song sort of makes you wonder.  The acoustic version of the song called "Jersey" is a stab at stardom.  It's singer songwriter makes sure that you can here his original voice on the track, and it is simply laid out acoustic style.  Overall the 7" aims to appease, and it would be great to hear from from this 5 piece band.

19 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Preserved for posterity as four-track tape recordings, Konrad Becker’s Piano Concertos for 4 Pianos have finally crossed the digital divide. While the man behind the music has been anything but listless, these recordings have until now, laid fallow for upwards of 25 years, making this the first release of his acoustic music. Originally used for the performance series Program for the 100% Resocialization of the Devil in 1982-83 and the experimental opera Parzival in 1984, the pieces are redolent with low-end perfumes, thick metallic fogs, and percussive walls of splendor. The simultaneous play of four roaring pianos creates music rife with subterfuge and illusion.

Klanggalerie

Konrad Becker is a High Magistrate of Hypermedia. A polymath involved in numerous interdisciplinary fields of study and endeavor. His energies have previously been focused on his work as director of the Public Netbase from 1994 to 2006. More recently he has started the World-Information Institute. With these groups he has organized several conferences and symposiums. He is the author of Strategic Reality Dictionary: Deep Infopolitics and Cultural Intelligence and co-editor of Critical Strategies in Art and Media: Perspectives on New Cultural Practices both published by Autonomedia. Music fans will know him for his accomplished forays in electronic and computer music under the name Monoton, a project that begin in 1979. The acoustic works on this album expose another facet of Konrad’s complex working methods, and his fascination with mathematical structures.

The songs on the two-disc set are not arranged sequentially. Two of the long players, both over 40 minutes, preclude that possibility. Disc one opens with "Parzival Overture" from 1984, moving in a non-linear manner afterwards.The song is thunderous and dense, and all four pianos are multi-tracked, played by Konrad. He hits the notes in rapid fire succession, a characteristic that the other concertos share as well. Resonating overtones give wings to the imagination. All smashed up into a thick wall of sound, it seems as if the notes spent some time together in the Large Hadron Collider. The rhythmically vibrating strings cause me to lock in step and oscillate at the same high rate. The manner of playing focuses on the percussive element and is akin to a shaman beating on a frame drum to induce out-of-body journeys and it would not surprise me if this was also Becker’s intention. Many of his live performances and installations incorporated field recordings of Shamanic music from various corners of the globe, and his writings espouse a deep concern with the traffic of the internal world. The monotonous minimalism of the overture is made functional in this manner while remaining aesthetically pleasing. In its last ten minutes as it progresses towards a conclusion the tempo slows down, allowing the notes to unglue themselves from each other and be heard distinctly in their own right. When the song concludes I feel as if I have been traveling and am finally allowed to take a moment and catch my breath at a rest area. Except the songs bleed into one another without any break or pause. I would have liked a pause.

"Noctariations" follows. As the title implies the music emits an aura of cloudy dreams, perfect for the dark hours of night. In this piece the strings rattle with a clangorous glee, buzzing as if the piano has been prepared with pieces of metal laid across the strings. All the while a luscious drone permeates the background, and I wonder if he ever let his foot off the sustain pedal. "Etude" has the quality of one of William Basinki’s Disintegration Loops. From 1982, I can almost hear the grit, dirt, and decay that seem to cling to the reels of magnetic tape. "Danse Diable" from 1983 takes up the major portion of the second disc, clocking in at nearly fifty-minutes. Polychromatic time signatures veer off in different directions. Quantum entanglement, however, ensures that the sounds remain aligned. A dense reverberation forms a magnetic undercurrent beneath the notes that are playing in a higher register. This effect gels it all together.

The release also includes three Zero Oxygen Bonus Tracks, composed in 2002 as a digital epilogue to the other four songs. Two were included at the end of the first disc and the third on the second. The digital piano mixed and looped with dance floor beats sound fun and playful. These quirky tunes would be at home at any large outdoor electronic music festival, making an excellent addition to the album. I only wish that all three were placed back to back on the second disc where there was plenty of room for them. This would have allowed for a more streamlined listen. It also would have been nice if the acoustic pieces had been mixed so as to fade out a bit at the end of each song. The abrupt endings and transitions tended to jar me out of my listening trance. Minor grievances aside, Klanggalerie has done another fine job releasing and preserving crucial artifacts.

samples:

• Noctariations
• Danse Diabl
• Grande Digital

 

19 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

It has been roughly four years since the last Boduf Songs album (2015's Stench of Exist), but Mat Sweet is finally back with his seventh full-length. There are few artists who are as tirelessly focused on exploring a narrow stylistic niche as Sweet, so it was fairly easy to (correctly) predict what Abyss Versions would sound like: hushed vocals, slow-motion arpeggios, seething tension, and quiet intensity. However, the details are always a surprise and I was especially eager to hear this particular release, as its predecessor felt like an inspired creative breakthrough that added a bit more color and rhythmic dynamism to the Boduf Songs' vision. Perversely though, Abyss Versions does not build upon those particular innovations and instead makes a hard turn in the opposite direction: more understated, more intimate, more austere (though there are a pair stellar exceptions at the end of the album).  Despite that turn even deeper inward, Abyss Versions is yet another characteristically fine album, as Sweet unveils a solid batch of new songs that brood, creep, and smolder in all the right ways.

Orindal

I am always fascinated by serious artists who keep returning again and again to roughly the same territory, as it is often rooted in an enigmatic fixation rather than a lack of vision (though there are loads of artists that fall into the latter category).In the case of Boduf Songs, Mat Sweet calls to mind a Nick Drake-esque folkie who is plagued by nightmarish Lovecraftian visions of existential horror rather than depression.It is easy to imagine that Sweet reluctantly closes his eyes every night and plunges into scorched and post-apocalyptic shadow world that he is forever damned to chronicle through Boduf Songs.I am sure that is not the actually case, but I am equally sure that Sweet would keep recording his bleakly haunted songs even if no record labels had any desire to release them.Thankfully, some do (in this case, Orindal) and Abyss Versions brings a fresh batch of hushed and dread-soaked ruminations into the world.It would be a mistake to say that Boduf Songs has not evolved, however, even if the arc has not exactly been a linear one.Every Boduf Songs album is guaranteed to provide some shade of occult-tinged gloom, but the execution can vary quite a bit: some previous albums were centered around fingerpicked acoustic guitars and some have sounded heavily influenced by doom metal.Abyss Versions lies somewhere in between those two poles, as most of these songs are built from simple drum machine patterns and slow-motion, minor key arpeggios of ringing, sustained notes.There is a lot of compelling activity happening in the shadows though, as Sweet inventively augments his whisper-soft dirges with everything from watery, indistinct piano motifs to more grinding and hallucinatory experimental flourishes.In that regard, Sweet is a tragically underrated artist, as his more outré twists remain true to his understated and elegantly controlled vision and rarely get a chance to be the focal point.

Aside from the throbbing bass, grinding drones, and robotic voice of the instrumental "Behold, I Have Graven Thee," the eight songs of Abyss Versions are generally variations of the same simple structure.As such, the degree to which I like a song tends to be intimately intertwined with how compellingly Sweet twists his stark template.That is not a dig, as his core aesthetic is an appealing eerie and melodic one without any added augmentation, but I do prefer the occasions where Sweet attempts to transcend his self-imposed constraints a bit (this project is seven albums deep, after all)."Unseen Forces and How To Use Them" is the strongest example of an archetypal Boduf Songs piece, as a quiet, understated vocal melody unfolds over a languorous web of chiming arpeggios and a popping, clicking drum machine beat that sounds like it may have had a previous life as a sexy R&B slow jam.Eventually, it blossoms into a crescendo of sorts, but it is a tightly controlled catharsis, manifesting as a more fluid groove embellished with murkily brooding synth tones.The opening "Gimme Vortex" gamely manages to pare that formula down even further by excising any attempt at a beat or groove, but the better pieces tend to be the ones that add new elements rather than subtracting familiar ones.Sweet saves those for the end of the album, which culminates in the one-two punch of "Sword Weather" and "In The Glittering Vault, in the Flowery Hiatus."

Both pieces take somewhat similar trajectories, as they open in fairly skeletal fashion and gradually become fleshed-out with subtle psychedelic touches and elegantly nuanced arrangement tweaks before erupting into propulsive grooves.In the case of "Sword Weather," that transformation comes as a bit of a surprise, as it builds to a beautifully melodic and chiming false crescendo before the bottom drops out, the drums kick in, and a smoldering outro coheres."Glittering Vault," on the other hand, comes right out of the gate with a rolling bass and drum machine groove and then simply becomes an even better one once Sweet sneakily piles on layers of melodic guitars and percussion enhancements.

Notably, both pieces highlight traits that I often take for granted with Boduf Songs: Mat Sweet has unquestionably carved out a distinctive aesthetic and written some excellent songs over the years, which is a great reason to care about his work.On a deeper level, however, he has an almost superhuman lightness of touch and a peerless mastery of the art of the slow burn.By metaphorically painting with a palette that is made up entirely of shades of black, Sweet has created a sensory vacuum where simple splashes of color, texture, or melody can make quite a deep impact on the emotional shading and cumulative power of a piece.Moreover, the degree of patience, control, and unerringly fine judgment on Abyss Versions is truly something to behold.While part of me greedily wishes there were a few more songs as wonderful as "Sword Weather" and "Glittering Vault," it is clear that Sweet had a very deliberate arc in mind for this album and that it could not have unfolded any other way: the fireworks are wonderful precisely because the build-up to them was so expertly manipulated.Whether or not this Boduf Songs album contains the strongest batch of individual pieces is difficult to say, but it is certainly a strong candidate for the most focused, sharply realized, and complete statement that he has yet released.

Samples can be found here.

19 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles

This impressively ambitious double album documents (in necessarily excerpted form) a month-long installation that ran during NYC's Storefront for Art and Architecture's 30th anniversary celebration back in 2013. Its true roots go much deeper than that, however, as Six Microphones is the culmination of a project that Robert Gerard Pietrusko has been fitfully struggling to perfect for almost two decades. It is easy to see why it took so long to realize, as Six Microphones is the sort of complex, process-based experimental music that only an electrical engineer or a rabidly gear-obsessed noise artist could hope to fully comprehend. Thankfully, grasping the intricacies of Pietrusko's system is not a necessary prerequisite for appreciating the resultant sounds, as Six Microphones is a quietly hypnotic symphony of drifting feedback that deserves a place alongside Nurse With Wound’s Soliquy for Lilith and Toshimaru Nakamura's No-Input Mixing Board experiments as a significant and inspired work of self-generating sound art.

LINE/Counter Audition

In a broad sense, "six microphones" is a very succinct and accurate description of Pietrusko's installation, as it is almost entirely and exactly that: six microphones were pointed at a pair of speakers in a room with very deliberate spacial relationships to one another.The intention, of course, was to create feedback and that set-up did not fail in that regard.While it may seem elegantly simple on the surface, however, the system is quite fiendishly complex in the details of how those microphones interact with one another (and with the room that they were in).In that regard, Pietrusko (an associate professor of Landscape Architecture at Harvard) approached the project with a focus and rigor that would befit mapping DNA or engineering a particle accelerator.A score and some diagrams are helpfully presented with the album to illustrate how the system works, but I only fully grasp the general idea: there are twelve controllers that manipulate the amplitude settings of the microphones, which keeps the resultant feedback in a continuous state of flux.I am a bit fuzzier on how Pietrusko alternates between "on" and "off" settings, but the gist seem to be that there are sixty-four different configurations of active/inactive microphones and each individual piece systematically cycles through them all.Impressively, all of that is just one of the factors that dictates the shape of these "compositions," as the sounds are further transformed by both the physical space that the microphones are in and the movements of the people within the room.Consequently, there can be no definitive version of Six Microphones, as the installation will yield significantly different results every time it is set up.That said, I suppose this album might be the definitive performance by default, as it will be the only one that most people get to hear.

From a compositional/sequencing perspective, Six Microphones is divided into six numbered parts and one overture, yet those delineations are fairly meaningless from a listening perspective.While I am sure someone who has spent a lot of time with the installation (like Pietrusko himself) can become attuned enough to discern the subtly different moods and tones in the various sections, the entire album is essentially a lazily shifting cloud of feedback, so it makes more sense to view it as a whole rather than a collection of discrete movements.The beauty, of course, lies in how the sustained feedback tones bleed together, transform, and converge into oscillating pulses.Given the nature of the sound sources, that is exactly what I would expect: someone who has a long familiarity with challenging music may be able to see some beauty in Pietrusko's feedback blossoms (akin to time-lapse photography), yet I suspect most listeners (like me) will find these sounds to be disorienting and uncomfortably hallucinatory.That certainly has its appeal, as My Cat is an Alien have made a career out of expertly plumbing those depths.At times, however, Six Microphones transcends the expected and such unpredictable interludes and unplanned set pieces are what makes this a compellingly unique album beyond its innovative compositional technique.On each of the four vinyl sides, some kind of phantasmal form takes shape at some point that sounds nothing like feedback: sometimes it sounds like the submerged whirring of a submarine or the hum of heavy machinery.Other times, it resembles a mysterious subterranean throb or an unexpectedly rhythmic series of oscillations. At those moments, patient and close listening almost feels like it reveals ghosts in the shifting fog.

Obviously, a double-album assembled from nothing but pure microphone feedback comes with some caveats.The primary one, of course, is that this is an unapologetically difficult tour de force of sound art.While Pietrusko put an incredible amount of effort into creating the system that made this possible, the form that these pieces take is guided primarily by chance (along with some math and electrical engineering) rather than by a composer interested in achieving a satisfying dynamic arc.Microphones do not care how long it takes to get to an absorbing place, nor do they care whether that place occurs at the beginning, middle, or end of a piece.The flipside of that, however, is that these pieces get to places that they never would have gotten to if they were consciously steered by a human artist.Also, it is always genuinely refreshing to encounter adventurous work from someone who has thought extremely deeply about frequency, harmony, the intricacies of the human ear, or complex acoustic phenomena (for me at least).Six Microphones is the kind of album that is all-too-rare these days: an experimental music album that is actually is truly experimental in its aims.In that regard, this album belongs to the same continuum as works like Alvin Lucier's "I Am Sitting in a Room" or the landmark works of early musique concrète: it could not be further from music-as-entertainment, yet it opens up intriguing new vistas in what is possible.

Samples can be found here.

18 June 2010

Administrator

Albums and Singles