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Back from a long hiatus after a single critically acclaimed release (Trace Elements, on Colin Newman’s Swim~ label), Paul Thomsen Kirk reappears from his Hiroshima based enclave with a new, lavishly packaged album that blends electronic atmospheres, old school industrial textures, dubby bass, and breakbeats with compelling virtuosity.
My first sampling of this disc reminded me of the mid 1990s ambient/isolationist dub scene that produced a number of short lived but excellent projects that peaked too early: Techno Animal’s Re-Entry and Scorn’s Evanescence rank within my all time favorite albums, yet soon after their releases the former began to lean too heavily on various distortion plugins and the latter became content to simply layer a hip-hop beat over basic abstract sounds. My comparison isn’t to say Unconfirmed Reports sounds dated, because it doesn’t, instead it takes the best elements of that period and sustains them with enough modern technique and technology to sound fresh. The mostly dense, chaotic mixes somewhat parallel the likes of Meat Beat Manifesto or the Bomb Squad’s production work with Public Enemy, but replacing the funk elements in both with dark industrial bleakness.
Album opener "Friend for Hire" uses the dub scene’s love of deep reverbed bass to keep the dark atmospherics going, but layers a variety of synth tracks on top and a rhythm right off of the best electro records keep the song flowing, and though it does lock into a minimalist repetition, there is enough change and variation to keep it from growing stagnant. The following "Pragmatism" is more dynamic, but still retains a definite structure, letting fragments of electric guitar and voice samples into the otherwise synthetic sounds. To me it sounds like it could have been a stand-out track on either of the landmark Macro Dub Infection compilations that surveyed dub influenced electronica of the day.
While the elements are notable throughout, the traditionalist industrial vibe comes to the surface on "Cypher" and "The Sand Collector." The former takes synths that sound like feedback (or feedback that sounds like synths) into raw clipping territory, and replaces any drums with a precise bass sequence and heavily processed voices. Structurally and atmospherically it feels a lot like early Cabaret Voltaire (think Mix Up or before). "The Sand Collector" cranks up the distortion on the synths and rhythms to push it precariously close to harsh noise territory, but exercises enough restraint to remain in control. While "Cypher" was Cabaret Voltaire, this could be a 21st century take on SPK’s Information Overload Unit or Leichenschrei due to the raw, yet rhythmic elements. The feedback loop that is prevalent throughout the track actually sounds a whole lot like it could be a sample from "Ground Zero: Infinity Dose," but that could be just coincidence.
Other tracks aren’t as bleak, with "SSRI" throwing jazzy breakbeats and a hip-hop bass line together with slightly surf guitar. There is still the industrial/mechanical din in the distance, but is more upbeat and lighter in comparison to some of the aforementioned tracks. "Portable Pariah" has a more spacious mix and even with the noisy loops and textures, feels more airy and open, allowing greater access to the synths and the catchy beats. The closing "A Prior Disengagement" acts as an amalgamation of the entire disc, showcasing blown speaker hip-hop beats with almost acid synth sequences and shrieking noises and fragments of voice communication, combining the more musical elements of the album with the more harsh ones.
Unconfirmed Reports successfully extracts some of the best elements of 1990s electronic music and puts them in a modern, though dark, context. The disc comes lavishly packaged in an oversized envelope with large inserts, hand-cut newspaper clippings, and a bonus DVD-R of short films to three of the tracks, all of which combine the music with treated video of Japan that emphasizes the sense of alienation and disconnect that the music demonstrates.
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I'm never sure whether I should dance, laugh, or squirm to a Gary Wilson record. All three are understandable reactions to his porno lounge sound, a fact that makes his music all the more uncomfortable. Lisa Wants To Talk to You comes on strong with saccharine keyboards and guitars, but is full of strong melodies and the same compellingly bizarre lyrics that have always characterized Wilson's obsessive world of women and loss.
Lisa Wants To Talk to You begins and ends with the rain, radio, and chaotic energy of "All Alone in Endicott," a reference to both Wilson's hometown and his never-ending quest for companionship and sexual gratification. Little more than collages of seemingly random sounds, these pieces bookend an album that is otherwise rife with the music of AM radio and nightmare lounge performances. At the center of it all is Wilson and his pleading, sometimes pathetic vocals. Throughout the record he daydreams about making out with his old crush Mary, reminisces about his past with Lisa and Linda, and bemoans the existence of Karen, who seems to haunt him and his conscience even more than Mary does.
Through it all Wilson is alone Endicott, all of his stories and fantasies just a strange blend of fiction and history playing out in his head. The drama and psychological nudity of Wilson's lyrics make for an awkward and sometimes embarrassing experience. It's tempting to reach out to Wilson and stop him from broadcasting his thoughts because, quite frankly, they are more than just a ltitle embarrassing and neurotic. For the most part the music does little to cure that feeling, but from a certain perspective there's as much humor on Lisa Wants To Talk to You as there is unnerving confession. Whether it is Wilson's unflinching directness, his off-key delivery, or the clash between his dream world and reality, there's something funny about this album that has nothing to do with its perversity or anachronistic musical style.
But from beginning to end there are some excellent songs shot through with solid grooves, fat bass lines, and layered melodies. Songs like "Come On Mary" and "You Are Still My Girlfriend" have incredibly catchy hooks and shed the lounge act sound just enough to appeal to more than just the kitschy side of my brain. "Karen Had A Secret," on the other hand, is dark enough to set off predator or stalker alarms in my head. Wilson's whispered vocals and the bitter subject matter are genuinely frightening, especially when contrasted with the record's otherwise bright aesthetic. If played by other bands, many of these songs might be one-dimensional odes bordering either on the too-serious or the too-indulgent, but Wilson injects his music with layers of ideas, moods, and feelings. The wonky keyboards, sleazy veneer, and elevator vibe might put some listeners off, but Lisa Wants To Talk to You will reward any patient listener willing to venture in Wilson's world.
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Hailing from the northern reaches of Europe, Sweden based Skull Defekts return here, further honing their distinctive blend of tribal hard rock into a taut set of highly focused songs. Seeking to tread the line between overt psychedelia and more prog-based power rock, the group's aesthetic finds some deep pockets of funky groove along the way while also setting foot into trenches that perhaps lie a little too close to a brand of pop-rock that a group of this caliber certainly has the capacity to avoid.
These two sides present themselves right from the get-go with "Knives, Birds, Stones & Pyramids." Opening with a guitar power chord progression that would not be out of place in a more radio-friendly rock group like Incubus, grooving drums soon come in to accompany them as a menacing vocal repeats the title. While it feels a tad heavy-handed, this also appears to be a big part of the group's sound, and the overall effect is far more interesting than the average group working within these constraints.
"Waving" takes the psychedelic level up a notch with snaking vocal lines before a chorus not far removed from PiL's "Careering" presents the album's first moment of surprise. "Six Sixes" opens with a shimmering and quite well realized drone whose aimlessness serves as a welcome respite from the pummeling pulse of the first two tracks. As thudding, in-the-pocket drumming careens atop, the unit seems to have hit their stride, building a psychedelic stew of approaches into a sound that really grabs you from all sides and pulls in all directions at once. With nearly 12 minutes to stretch out here, the unit finally has the time to move, and they take it far beyond the stratos here with engaging synth play before exploding into truly cataclysmic material, pounding along and repeating the title as they stretch beyond any point they've achieved thus far.
With "Hydrophobic Baptism" however, the group return to their taut, post-metal song structures, and no matter how well conceived it may be, it still reads as a tad silly. And perhaps it's supposed to, but the group sometimes gets uncomfortably close to the sound of groups like System of a Down, despite their far more repetitive and unhindered approach. "Unholy Drums for Psychedelic Africa" is more or less what it sounds like, with multiple drums ripping along above subtle washes of background fuzz and drone that sound alright, but don't really serve to push the album forward much. Momentum is merely maintained once more.
The rush forward continues with "Habit," whose drum and guitar-heavy sound leaves it disappointingly indecipherable from much of the rest. Even when shards of guitar make their way in it still is rendered surprisingly stale by this point. Which, again, is frustrating—the group clearly has plenty of interesting ideas and a broad musical palette to choose from. It's just that with so little room to breathe it is hard to keep the album moving along as a whole. "Skull & Tongue" opens up a bit into some Amon Düül-style meanderings that see a group incredibly adept musically. Yet despite its decidedly less structured contents, the bass line feels like it could well be used on nearly any track here.
The album closes with "Urban Ritual," whose title seems to sum up the group's desired aesthetic. Its patient opening soon crumbles into a strange realm that lies somewhere between dub-step production and doom metal decay. It is a grim and unexpected end to an album whose overall effect is somehow more predictable than one might hope. The album also comes as a double LP which claims an extra album's worth of material. Supposedly this extra material is less focused and more drifting, which may be just what the album needs to live up to its promise. With this much focus however, it comes across as a tad stale, if riddled with intriguing moments and plenty of potential.
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Humorous though their name may be, Blue Sabbath Black Cheer actually sounds like anything but. Primarily the duo of wm.Rage and Stan Reed, this collection pulls from several out of print releases while also adding two unreleased tracks. Call this fine collection a "best of" if you want, but be warned: this is some brutal material. Perhaps "best of the worst" would be more apt.
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A basement pioneer in his own right, J.D. Emmanuel has had a resurgence of sorts in recent years, making his a real synth Cinderella story. Spurred by a record collector who suggested he post his work on the internet, Emmanuel's 1982 Wizards was soon reissued by Bread and Animals' Lieven Martens, whose own Dolphins into the Future project is among many currently drawing inspiration from the meditative arpeggiations practiced by Emmanuel over 25 years ago.
This collection draws on a number of unreleased tracks from Emmanuel's most fertile period, offering an array of examples of his distinctive stylistic mastery. Ordered more or less sequentially, the disc offers a fine demonstration of the artist's trajectory. Opening with the placid and gentle drones of "Movement into Lightspeed," played on an organ with an Echoplex and reel deck, the work soon grows in complexity until the closing 22-minute track, "Changeling," featuring four synths at work. In between lies a body of work whose importance is far greater than its notoriety.
Emmanuel's main cue and most obvious influences lie in the minimalist composers. Much of his work has the distinct feel of greats like Steve Reich and Philip Glass as arpeggiated tones are gently modified through the consistent warmth of his synth tones. Yet it is likely Terry Riley's shadow which looms largest here, as Emmanuel displays a penchant for conjuring the spiritual strength in repetition. Swaying effortlessly, "Sunrise Over Galveston Bay" has synth lines drifting atop field recordings of waves, a tactic whose overuse is rendered obsolete here due to the piece's humble simplicity.
"7 Note Trance" is, as suspected, a pulsing body of arpeggiated tones (seven of them, I would believe...) that ebb and flow ceaselessly forward while the aptly titled "Grandioso" finds a medium tempo urging along a regal space age procession. Each use a highly different in approach but the feel is of a fully realized and unified musical voice. The stoned pitch modulations of "Through Inner Planes" may well be the least tangible work here, but it still manages to fit comfortably into the bigger picture presented here.
While some of Emmanuel's earliest experiments are present on Solid Dawn, they sound right at home next to more constructed works like "March of the Colossus," a patient and brooding space filled with austere lines that would find themselves fitting snuggly between Reich's "Four Organs" and Paul Bley's electronic keyboard work. "Whirlwind" takes off even further, pulsing outward in continuous lines of sensual colors.
Emmanuel's recent rediscovery has proved to be an important factor in the emergence of a burgeoning New Age aesthetic practiced by units such as Oneohtrix Point Never, Steve Hauschildt and countless others. His influence may yet reach its height and works such as these serve as important reminders of the links between much basement drone and minimalist composition. Emmanuel himself may well come to resurface as one of the most important bridges between them if albums of this quality continue to emerge.
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Humorous though their name may be, Blue Sabbath Black Cheer actually sounds like anything but. Primarily the duo of wm.Rage and Stan Reed, this collection pulls from several out of print releases while also adding two unreleased tracks. Call this fine collection a "best of" if you want, but be warned: this is some brutal material. Perhaps "best of the worst" would be more apt.
Let it be known though that these two do what they do extremely well. The seven tracks presented here each see the duo expanding the definition of blackness, seeking out its various manifestations and finding new examples lying between the cacophonic blood-boiling noise found on the first untitled track and the brooding and spare scrape soundscapes found on the second track, also untitled.
More or less everything else here falls somewhere in the middle of these two approaches, the duo always finding new ways to intermingle their gutteral vocals, oscillators, tapes, guitar and bass. "Genocide" finds a vocal bellow on par with some dinosaurs while high-end oscillators ring about in richly textured pools of mud. It may be harsh but the layers intermingle fabulously, and even the noise newcomer could find elements of interest to lose themselves in here. It is one of the finest demonstrations of the group's sound presented on the disc. "Maggot" crackles like coals sizzling in some lava pit in Sumatra while avalanches roll about above. The sound is certainly an ugly one, but ambient elements are present, and the sheer level of action keeps the piece on its toes throughout.
Whereas many of the tracks here feel like a compactor squishing various noise tactics into one another, the fifth untitled track is truly a dark ambient work, gliding along menacingly while wagon wheels and feedback shoot shards of color into the piece, if only momentarily. The patient control exhibited is one of the group's strengths, as they exhibit their interest in unified works rather than all out blow-you-away noise.
The centerpiece of the disc is no doubt found in the 17-plus minute "Borre Fen/Untitled." Beginning in a drifting netherworld of screeching tapes, the piece builds from musique concrete openings into a bleak post-apocalyptic portrait before descending into complete bone-sucking mayhem. The work moves through so many spaces that it is difficult to touch on all of them, though it does take the shape of a mini score of sorts, each scene represented with fine dexterity and finesse. The closing untitled track is a harsh high end palette cleanser, securing the group's position as dark noise practitioners of the highest degree, far more closely aligned to artists such as Cousins of Reggae or Spykes than Sunn 0))) or even Robedoor.
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THEO ANGELL
Tenebrae CD
Amish is pleased to announce the release of Theo Angell's Tenebrae (AMI-030). Tenebrae is Theo's fourth long-player and second with Amish (also see Dearly Beloved, [AMI-025]). Theo grew up in rural Oregon, was home-schooled along with his siblings by his minister father, which provided him little exposure to mainstream pop culture; the tunes on Tenebrae reflect these conditions, documenting both a reverence for and rebellion against isolation and spiritual absolutes. To that end, the title song, which is the Latin word for shadows, references a religious ceremony that involves the extinguishing of candles and a slamming of the book in advance of holy week. The album’s song-cycle reworks various primitive musical forms (tent revival, folk, psych, fill-in-the-blank with wildly counter-cultural outsider artist) to new and celebratory ends, twisting these styles into a unique brand of folk-psychedelia. For this outing, the Tabernacle Hillside Singers include, among others, Matt Valentine, P.G. Six, Tom Greenwood, Samara Lubelski and Tara Jane O'Neil. Tenebrae highlights again Theo’s unique poly-vocal pyrotechnics and will no doubt prove to be one of the most beautiful records of the year.
There are great sci-fi stories in the flesh of underground music, and Theo Angell is a monstrous storyteller—there can be no single universe to slay or streamline his genius. He cannot be contained within the medium, his voice becomes a giant amidst the twin peaks of yr speakers. Boasting an impressive amalgam of the sonic pH factor of the Pacific Northwest, sacred harmony singing/arranging and an extremely erudite upgrade on modern folk forms, Theo Angell's Tenebrae resonates deep in the annals of sonic architecture, the next step, or second tier, of the Cecil Sharp house. This addition is more like a modal bathysphere with a teleport than any kinda arcane "in the ground pool," tho' there is plenty here for one to deep one’s inner ear within the waters of tradition.
I first "heard" Angell's music when he was part of the Hall Of Fame triad, his tonal shards along with "headphones as space helmet wireless mic" never ceased to astound and it was his harmonic juxtapostions that were always a standout force in their live sets. On record that unit boasted great prowess with effortless forays into instrumental urban wormholes and pastoral greenspace and here on Tenebrae the same accents can be found, but far more “21st century” in both the production, depth of field and, most importantly, the songwriting. The vocals are extraordinary, coming across with a warm reediness conjuring up the colloquial plaintiveness of Washington Phillips crossed with a more exploratory Willie Nelson cast in acid folk modes...and this IS the real psych folk, transportive with deep attention to sonic detail and with an equally legit centrifuge of tonal color. It is as if Tenebrae refracted the early music of John Dowland and transported it thru a space age, spaced out choral family. "The family" is a solid approach here, Theo sings of various culture hordes, implements his own cult of musicians (for this aural message, the Tabernacle Hillside Singers include, among others, Matt Valentine, P.G. Six, Tom Greenwood and Samara Lubelski), and sounds himself like a harmony machine from a future wave. Obviously in the latter is where his impeccable vocal style emerges, you simply have to live this sorta colloquial song in order to sing it and Theo is the pure voice of lost America jamming with the embers of tradition. This is no small feat, and yet the familiars are so potent in his tonal magic that you feel free and yet anchored to pure folk song. This is where he darks the sun of the zeitgeist of strum and hum silver spoon folkies and stands alive as the alchemical metal. The towering offspring within Tenebrae are all light and dark, as blinding as long lost harmony from suntones rebirthed as illuminating forms in the folk vernacular. This is heady stuff, but what I found most rewarding is that it also works as an aural massage, something you want to keep playing back, perfect alongside those fave rotations real slow in the glow from the window, everything so slow when this kinda shine flows.
- Matt "MV" Valentine / Maximum Arousal Farm / Winter 2009
CD is packaged in heavy Stoughton mini-LP style jacket and comes with 8-panel lyric sheet
Tenebrae tracklisting:
- Wakeling (3:05)
- A Crime From the Vine (3:14)
- The Shadow Ring (4:53)
- Higher Something (7:26)
- Never Heard That Baby Cry (7:30)
- Like A Wind (8:31)
- Sadie Won't Come (Am I The One For Me?) (11:20)
- Salt (7:07)
- Maast (5:42)
- Tenebrae (5:51)
Artist site: http://www.myspace.com/theoangellthetabernaclehillsidesingers
Label site: http://www.amishrecords.com
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Subtitled Minimal Compositions, Instrumentals, and Experiments 1980-1983, J.G. Thirlwell's CD-DVD retrospective casts an entirely new and surprising light on his already diverse and infamous Foetus moniker. Some of these songs are close to being 30 years old, however they share more in common with Thirlwell's Manorexia and Steroid Maximus projects than with anything found on albums like Hole or Nail. Steeped in the theory and aesthetics of modern composition, Limb is a revelatory collection that adds even more depth to Thirlwell's already rich musical history.
Ectopic Ents
That Thirlwell decided to return to his past at this point in his career makes perfect sense. Each of the 13 pieces on Limb prefigure the ideas he has more recently explored as Manorexia and Steroid Maximus; they represent the beginning of his career as both a rock musician and a composer. His passion for soundtracks, modern classical music, and theory is fully formed and present on songs like "Te Deum" and "Primordial Industry," both of which were previously available only on compilations. As such, they were partially divorced from the Foetus oeuvre and remained hidden to all but the most ravenous and attentive collectors. Still other songs were never released or only saw the light of day as b-sides on obscure 7" records. Limb reabsorbs these lost tracks into the Foetus story and ties together Thirlwell's many disparate interests while maintaining an album- like illusion.
While the term experimental applies very well to what Thirlwell was doing in the early '80s, every song on Limb is immediate and attractive and removed from the aesthetics sometimes associated with experimental music. Thirlwell's imagination and early output is far removed from the sometimes dry world of academic composition and theory-for-theory's-sake performance. The sounds he manipulates and utilizes are ultimately invested in the pleasure of listening and not in the theory itself. The liner notes, which were written by Thirlwell, mention his interest in the mathematical and experimental aspects of 20th century musical theory, but a direct line can be drawn from songs like "Te Deum" and "Sjogren's Syndrome" to the twisted pop of "I'll Meet You in Poland Baby" or the forceful percussion of "The Only Good Christian Is a Dead Christian." The techniques used to create the morose atmosphere of "Ezekiel's Wheel" and the dizziness of "That We Forbid" ultimately helped to form every Foetus record both technologically and aesthetically. Throughout many of the songs Thirlwell's love for hypnotic loops takes center stage, but they are complimented by big musical accompaniments and all manner of percussive mayhem. He fuses popular music and culture with the influence of Terry Riley and Phillip Glass and in the process forms something that is both confronational and alluring. The dark, creeping bass lines and tense, nerve-wracking melodies that populate many of his "jazz" and soundtrack-based works are also present on this record. Most striking, however, is the almost total lack of lyrics on every song. One of the most attractive elements of Thirlwell's music was, for me, his lyrical ability. His scathing deliveries, biting lyrics, and often hilarious play on words highlighted many of his best songs, but Limb doesn't feature even one of his characteristic growls. The focus is completely on his musical sensibilities and the sensations he's capable of creating with little more than samples, everyday objects, and the occaisional synthesizer.
Limb also features a DVD, which is composed of a documentary directed by Clement Tuffreau and a series of brief live performances by each of Thirlwell's major incarnations. The documentary provides excellent insight into Thirlwell's world, his background, and features a host of familiar faces, including Michael Gira and Lydia Lunch. Tuffreau gets Thirlwell and company to talk about everything from his move to New York and his early musical endeavors to the various films he's starred in and scored, as well as the circumstances surrounding the development of Steroid Maximus, Wiseblood, and Manorexia. Foetus may have been developed with a certain mythology in mind, but this documentary essentially collapses the space between Thirlwell and his fans. Despite all the drama of drugs and sex that might've been inserted into the film, Tuffreau keeps his focus almost completely on Thirlwell's music and art. Thankfully, all of the individuals interviewed stay on topic, too, with Lydia, Matt Johnson, and Alexander Hacke providing some of the best commentary. For any Foetus fan this is an absolutely essential release. For the casual listener or the interested bystander, Limb is actually a great place to start listening to J.G. Thirlwell. The pop sensibilities that he is perhaps most known for are absent from the CD but his multi-faceted output is still well represented by this collection.
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Although still in his early 20s, Jon Borges has long been a dominant and influential figure in the American noise underground. Austere is the first new Pedestrian Deposit release in three years (due to a shift in focus towards his more ambient Emaciator project) and the first to feature a second band member (cellist/violinist Shannon Kennedy). As expected, it is well worth the wait.
 
 
Jon Borges began recording as Pedestrian Deposit in 2003 at 16.Since then, he has toured relentlessly, started his own label, and released an astonishing torrent of limited-edition releases though nearly every cool underground label around.From the very beginning, Borges has set himself apart from his peers with his surgical exactitude and purposefulness, but his aesthetic has slowly shifted over the years.Austere continues his evolution away from the unrelenting harshness of his early releases towards a more spacious, melodic, and composed aesthetic that is more uniquely his own.Kennedy (Bitter Milk) proves to be a rather able foil in this endeavor, as her (often electronically treated) droning strings bring a submerged organic melancholy that complements Borges' crackling electronics beautifully.
"Meander" begins the album with subtle static, an insectoid stutter, and a low hum that gradually grows increasinglydense before morphing into a darker, more unsettling and metallic drone.Later, the drone becomes more machine-like in nature and fades out beneath a controlled flurry of crackles and throbs."Impermanence" follows in a somewhat similar vein, but is initially a bit more intense and immediate (despite the decdedly non-threatening inclusion of field-recorded crickets).It soon drifts into a lengthy, disquieting and cavernous-sounding cello and bowed metal interlude (which itself is ultimately engulfed by white noise and clattering metal).The third track, "Requite," opens with a startling blast of static, followed by some more buzzing and droning (albeit with some vaguely angelic vocal snippet buried deep in the wreckage). Gradually, a grinding metallic drone emerges, along with some somber backwards strings of some kind.The brief flirtation with melody is quickly discarded though, and the track escalates into a dense industrial roar before abruptly cutting out.
Those first three tracks show a meticulous attention to sequencing, dynamics, and coherence:each track is more visceral and compelling than the previous one and they all seem to form a single gradually unfolding song suite.This trajectory, of course, means that Borges saved his best material for the second half of the album."Trail" and "Former" take the themes of the first half of the album and forge them into something still more impressive and memorable.They are quickly eclipsed, however, as the 20-minute closing track, "You Didn't Break Me," is an absolute tour de force: field recordings, haunting ambience, somber cellos, eerie drones, and ear-shredding cascades of harsh electronics all unfold in an elegantly composed and seamless flow.Notably, this track contains the only sustained abrasive electronics frenzy on the album, which is quite masterful.Given Borges' past, harshness is to be expected and the incredibly patient and tense build-up to the inevitable catharsis ensures maximum impact.When the previously restrained and elegant electronics of Austere finally turn violent, it hurts.
Austere is an excellent album.There is almost no one else that brings this degree of thought and patience to the experimental noise genre:Borges seems to keep getting better and better.I hope I don't have to wait another three years for him and Shannon to compose a suitable follow-up, but I still have the voluminous Emaciator back catalogue to sift though in the meantime, so I suspect I will somehow manage if I have to.
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Cold Cave's brilliant yet cruelly brief set at No Fun Fest most closely resembled a low-fi New Order perverted by (un)healthy doses of bleak intensity and menace. Regrettably, this compilation of early releases does not sound anything like that, so I must content myself with mere memories until a release emerges that more accurately captures Wes Eisold's current vision. Thankfully, however, Cremations is still a fairly compelling and unusual release in its own right.
Hospital Productions
Cold Cave originated as something of an electronic solo project for prolific underground icon Wes Eisold, but it eventually expanded into a full band. Eisold is best known as the former frontman of hardcore legends American Nightmare and Give Up The Ghost, but has also been a member of XO Skeletons and Some Girls. Recently, he has expanded into publishing too with the launching of Heartworm Press (which boasts forthcoming books by both Boyd Rice and Genesis P. Orridge). While his creative output has varied in superficial ways, it has always been rooted to a firm foundation of restless intensity and intelligence, both of which are on ample display throughout Cremations.
This album, released by Prurient's Dominick Fernow, compiles the Painted Nails EP, the Electronic Dreams cassette, and the self-released Coma Potion LP. Despite that, however, Cremations nonetheless manages to sound like a coherent and deliberately sequenced album. The individual tracks, however, are mostly brief sound experiments rather than fully realized works. On one level, that is a bit disappointing, as I know that Cold Cave has some amazing songs and I wish they were here. On a different level, however, Cremations works as a kind of imaginary soundtrack: this is exactly the sort of stuff that I envision playing in an underground club in some sort of sleazy, squalor-filled sci-fi dystopia like those portrayed in Total Recall or William Gibson’s Neuromancer.
Despite the embryonic nature of this material, Eisold's aesthetic remains quite focused and there are occasional glimpses of the great band that Cold Cave is rapidly evolving into. Two tracks in particular stand out as especially excellent: "Heavenly Metals" is a perversely beautiful and catchy piece built around some Max Morton spoken word about doomed robot love in a horrific post-apocalyptic wasteland, while "E Dreams" is a hauntingly melancholic ambient piece that shimmers around a distorted and echoing female voice. However, there are number of other noteworthy tracks scattered throughout as well, such as "Sex Ads," which is one of a handful of songs that approximate a mangled, thuggish, and noise-damaged reenvisioning of Soft Cell.
Cremations is probably not the best place to start with Cold Cave, but it does feature some strong (albeit often abrasive) material nonetheless. I expect that whatever comes next from them will be amazing, but there are some great tracks already available on various releases (such as "Love Comes Close" and surprisingly poppy "The Trees Grew Emotions and Died") that are worth seeking out in the meantime. Oddly, Eisold also has a similarly excellent solo project (Ye Olde Maids) that is very much in the same vein (albeit less dark), so hopefully that will result in twice as much great electropop in my future. Keep an eye on this guy.
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In Trunk's catalog are many bizarre treats. The label has issued obscure soundtracks, musique concrète by an ex-Spitfire pilot, poetic porn, tunes from forgotten children's TV shows and much more. Now comes their very first CD release of easy listening sunshine pop adaptations of Church of England hymns, which has long enjoyed a cultish following and bootlegged life since its original 1960s release. These swinging arrangements of traditional melodies are amusing, perplexing creations; they are by turns delighful and repulsive.
Originally issued on Davjon Records (a small label with negligible distribution), the rarity of Hymns A Swinging is a major reason for its legendary status. Trunk has previously issued a couple of tracks from this album on the sampler Resurrection: The Amplified Bible of Heavenly Grooves, but hearing the entire album is an unmissable experience.
The image provided of The Mike Sammes Singers is a magnificent depiction of buttoned-up bygone glamor and total repression. The men that make up the band have greased back short-back-and-sides haircuts, neckties peeping from under V-necked sweaters, and ample trousers revealing nothing. The women wear tight-waisted floral frocks and their hair is barely softer than Vera Lynn's stiff wartime hairdo. The voices of the group are precise and playful yet pure. They're very adept with advertising jingles, some of which can be heard on their album Music For Biscuits, also reissued by Trunk. Their "Timex" jingle is a personal favorite.
Hymns A'Swinging opens with The Ted Tayor Organsound laying down a chunky groove that might have been dropped off a British version of a Blacksploitation flick. When the singers enter, though, the mood of the song is abruptly altered; I laughed and almost snorted the bone out of my nose once they began. Indeed, anyone catching a glimpse of me stuck in traffic listening to the remainder of that track, "Harvest Home," and the next couple ("Hills of The North" and "40 Days and 40 Nights") might have been concerned that I had slipped into a waking coma, was researching mouth-breathing techniques, or accidentally revisiting a horrible nightmare. After a few listens I've been able to revisit the record and appreciate it for more than the humor it provides. Now Irelish the bongo fury and jazz flute on "All Things Bright And Beautiful" which also includes tight echoey guitar in the style of "Summer Holiday" and jabbering soprano scat and syrupy tenor voices. It wouldn't surprise me, however, if someone were to mistake parts of the album for a dull children's record gone horribly wrong.
There are sublime moments amidst the ridiculous ones, however. The breaks on "Immortal Invisible God Only Wise" are truly unbelievable and Len Clarke's spritely crisp drumming won me over very quickly. It's worth noting that the Ted Taylor Organsound also features the talents of jazz legend Tubby Hayes on tenor sax and flute. Ike Issacs, Clive Hicks, and Cedric West take turns on the guitar and Mike Nottingham's bass parts also fit the bill. Mercifully, Ted Taylor doesn't ram his organ into every available space, for which we might all be grateful.
I would even claim that the jumble of styles found on this record form a match made in heaven... or a match made in the mixed-up, post-war world of England. The charm of the Church of Engand—despite its origins in Henry VIII's land and power grab—is that it may often be considered the least dogmatic of all organized religions. In my experience most Church of England vicars would sooner discuss jam and gardening than Jesus and God. Many might react with mild surprise to the idea that some people believe in a literal seven day creation story, miracles, and resurrection. Maybe it's a healthy aversion to talking about work or perhaps a modest caution, but those vicars seem less at ease with life after death than with tea and cake. Culturally disinclined to consider, say, abortion or sexuality, their moral reasoning is usually preserved for such topics as Test Match cricket and town planning. When pressed, one such dog-collared fellow once mentioned to me that perhaps we humans are like tadpoles, with the opportunity to one day become...well... frogs. An enduring image, of sorts.
The real merit of Hymns A' Swinging is that the whole project has a charming light touch which transforms these hymns from the Church of England songbook. It's as if they might have been born to submit to the arrangements of a music director like David Moses. An element of shock is also present: when listening to any of the intros to these tracks it's impossible to guess what the song will be. As with all Trunk releases, my advice is to throw caution to the wind, believe in your ears, and let yourself be transported to a different place. An alternate title for this, arguably the most outrageous Trunk release yet, might be Music For Tadpoles, then.
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