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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Mick Barr's latest album sees him take the concept of a face melting guitar solo and turning it into a multi-faceted and layered composition. There is no room here for any straightforward musical structures to provide a basis for Barr to take a solo from; instead he just goes at it without any thoughts given to easing the listener in gently. The concept of free jazz is one familiar to most but here is an example of free metal, the guitar screeching away from the pack and leaving a scorched trail behind it.
Unlike the majority of "guitarscape" albums that are out there, Barr keeps away from slow tempos and low frequencies. With Annwn he instead shreds away, layering complex guitar tracks over other equally complex tracks. The sheer amount of frenzied fret assault brings to mind images of bloodied stumps instead of fingers. The end result is something like having a dozen thrash metal guitarists thrown in a room and telling them to solo away in a given (but loosely defined) key for an indefinite amount of time. The notes are mostly along the midrange and treble end of the frequency spectrum and hit the ears like a hypodermic needle through skin.
Annwn has all the impact of any given Merzbow album—the shrill noise pierces through the room—but unlike noise in general there is a rhythmic and musical direction to the work. This makes it less of a challenge to listen to but makes it far more tiring to experience as my attention is constantly being grabbed by the musical aspects of the album. In a pure noise situation there are always times when you can switch off and rest your mind. There is no such respite here. Barr marches along a path that has been somewhat cleared by the likes of Albert Ayler and Masima Akita but he diverges from them, reaching the same location but from a different route.
This album is a long, testing listen (in a good way). There are so many layers of guitar on any given part of Annwn that it is impossible not to become disorientated when trying to focus on what a particular guitar is doing. This makes for interesting listening as each time I spin the disc there whole tracts of music that I notice that have been previously ignored in order to try and figure out what Barr is playing in the foreground. Due to this huge amount of detail, I am drawn back to Annwn despite it being a thoroughly exhausting way to spend 80 minutes.
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I wasn't sure what to expect upon receiving this disc. The stark, digitally treated artwork that adorns the heavy, textured sleeve has little in the way of credits or information, and no specific background on the artist, which is, I'm sure, his intent. A bit of the Google finds that it is the debut release of Greek artist Thanasis Kaproulias, and none of this is needed to enjoy the disc, which lays comfortably between the rough experimentations of proto-industrialists like Throbbing Gristle and the modern day esoteric work of Francisco Lopez and Asmus Tietchens.
Because of the sparse documentation, it is hard to make assumptions as to what exactly is going on here, but on the surface it feels like a good amount of digitally generated content with heavily treated acoustic sounds as well. The quiet crackling that opens "Everything Looks Better Beside Water" could be fire, it could be paper, or it could be entirely modeled via software for all I know. The rushing water sounds feel much more organic though, and conversely the deep electronic pulsing sounds purely digital. Bizarre rhythmic elements appear in moderation at the end of both this track and the ending "Crawling on the Pavements of Your Skull" that are obviously percussive and rhythmic, but have a color that is entirely unique, resembling a beatbox made from bones and animal hides.
There are clear elements of pure noise as well: the high frequency infrasonic tones that open and conclude "Oh You Sweet and Spontaneous Earth…You Answered Them Only With Spring" will certainly grate on less dedicated listeners, as will the white noise and overdriven thuds that appear on occasion in the aforementioned "Crawling" track. While dissonant, it never becomes overwhelmingly oppressive or does it compromise the nuances of the more restrained elements in the mix. "Oh You Sweet.." features a complex mishmash of tones that manages to both seem completely chaotic, yet retain a structured, almost melodic vibe as well.
One of the most jarring elements comes in at the midpoint of "Crawling…," which features an untreated dialog extract of Liv Ullman from Bergman's The Passion of Anna. As it demarks the midpoint of the track, it is an oddly familiar element to a work that is so heavily focused on sounds that are unrecognizable and alien. Yet it doesn't detract at all from the work, it instead functions as an oddly comfortable signpost in an alien world of sound.
As a debut, Novi_sed has already created a quality work that wouldn't be out of the place in the catalog of a Marc Beherens or Francisco Lopez, and would seem to be the beginnings of an artist to watch. It's definitely worth tracking down, and I hope the obscurity of this work doesn't cause it to be lost in the shuffle.
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In some ways this work is reminiscent to the Gunter Muller disc I covered last year as it presents a percussionist using his instruments in a way that mostly does not resemble drums or anything usually associated with the style. Instead it is heavily processed and treated to take on an entirely different quality and tone. It is a very interesting work, but the presentation is almost a bit too familiar.
It isn't entirely impossible to recognize some of what is traditionally associated with drums, sonically, at least, through this album. There are some traditional drum skin rattles smattered across here and there, but not too obvious unless the effort is made to hear them. Instead there is significantly more incidents where the sound is shaped into a more dense collage, like the dense roar that is the title track which eventually resembles a massive stampede of wildebeests moving across the plains. "Drgacze" is a notable contrast to the verdant visuals of the aforementioned track, the rattles come across like an industrial jackhammer before a metal percussion section comes in that sounds like a gamelan band being physically assaulted during their performance.
The tracks in which the sounds are even less identifiable are, in my opinion, more fascinating. The rather simplistic, in a structural capacity at least, "O_vbrdub," is a slow moving mudslide of organic sounds: a thick and sticky slow motion avalanche of textual sound. At the same time, "Sink" rests upon a bed of harsh siren like loops and scraping high end rattles of noise alongside a digital micro-sample buzzing and cutting, slicing metallic sounds.
The album ends with the most dissonant tracks. "Aigua Per A" features a violent buzzing noise that wouldn't have been out of place on a peak-era Whitehouse album with sustained digital micro-sample stuttering and mechanical elements. The disc closes on an especially dark note, the low end rumble with clattering cymbals of "Diners Per N," which is nothing but sinister and looming
Musically, it is a very unique experiment that is extremely diverse without being the work of a dilettante. While it might seem to lack any specific thematic cohesion or overarching structure, it remains consistently interesting through its duration. The packaging, however, is coming from a much less unique background. While it is attractive, the matchbook folding cover is very, very close to the Utech label's Arc series of discs from last year, right down to the die cut black sleeve that holds the CD. I'm sure this something done for cost effective reasons, it is too similar to the Utech stuff to go unmentioned. Again, no slight against the artist for this, but it had to be said. Sorry.
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Having had the privilege and pleasure to catch this dazzlingly deviant duo in concert on several occasions this decade, this album of covers seemed all but inevitable. Here, much to my delight, the diminutive diva and her frizzy-haired ivory tickler present some of these practiced though never before released songs on disc for the very first time.
Durtro Jnana
Mixing what might be called standards with more contemporary pop fare, When Good Things Happen to Bad Pianos re-imagines the established originals through Paul Wallfisch's spare, smoky piano arrangements and Little Annie Anxiety Bandez's uniquely experienced and moving vocal tone. The cover artwork depicting a severely neglected and surely abused piano may be striking, but this menacing exterior does no justice to the delicate, exquisite artistry enclosed within. Annie sounds perfectly at home on comfortable cuts like the Barbara Streisand staple "The Summer Knows" as well as the excessively interpreted "Yesterday When I Was Young" and "Song For You." Yet with Wallfisch at her side, she regularly finds ways to challenge herself while paying tribute to the songs she so clearly loves. After listening to this album, I cannot fathom a more suitable singer to tackle the Mark Knopfler penned Tina Turner classic "Private Dancer" than Annie. Matching and, at times, even exceeding Turner's distinct delivery, she evokes the desperation and disgust of the lyrics, all without going over the top even for a second.
Despite my learned familiarity with her repertoire, Annie still manages to deliver a surprise or two. She sounds downright bluesy on Candi Stanton's 1978 disco hit "Victim," which features guitar work and backing vocals from New York music mainstay Kid Congo Powers. Of course the biggest shocker has to be the restrained cover of U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I’m Looking For." Though the overplayed original continues to haunt a pre-programmed Clear Channel station near you, Wallfisch ascetically hones in on the melody buried under all that production work to lay a base for Annie to croon and riff over.
Although not as compelling as the incomparable Songs from the Coal Mine Canary, the magnificent 2006 album of originals, the immensely enjoyable When Good Things Happen to Bad Pianos hardly classifies as a stopgap release. Unlike other artists who toss out covers records for less than legitimate purposes, these cherished interpretations are just as much a part of the Little Annie and Paul Wallfisch experience as their own material.
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With lush production that often strays into gorgeous territory, this is a pleasant album that won’t ruffle any feathers. Fronted by a horn, the group seems more like a jazz combo than a rock band. They also use some lightly processed effects and electronics but these are mixed unobtrusively into the ambience without ever coming to the fore. My only complaint is that while the band are adept musicians, their songwriting tends to relegate the music to the background because nothing ever jumps out as being terribly memorable. It is the sort of thing I could listen to all day yet be able to recall very little of afterwards. The songs have their own trajectory, but the payoff is rarely dramatic enough to elicit any emotional satisfaction.
On the other hand, the remixes add some distinction to the material. Four Tet's remix of "Gardening, Not Architecture" lends urgency to the rhythm and integrates high-pitched bleeps into the mix that give the song its distinctive character. Even better is Sybarite's remix of "Invisible Cities," which uses electronics to bring about even more explicit changes in the music with a strong beat and loops.
As a collection of tracks and not something originally conceived as an album unto itself, these songs are of a consistently high quality, each one as enjoyable as the last. There's not a lot here for me to sink my teeth into, but it works just as well as an enjoyable appetizer for the band's forthcoming full-length.
This release has more to do with the slow flicker and fill of flame, the slow burn of drone and ever-present unfurling smoke melodies. The fallen regal title foreshadows the ever present idea of a slow descent, "Riddish Windham Hill," channelling the micro-mic sound of wick's glow. This track's nonagenarian tones are trapped deep inside melted wax, a slow downwards smother of notes that diffuse throughout its duration. The abstract bed of "Freedom of Pollen" repeats a cheap-voltage melody that's heard through the smeared glass of hazy halo throttled guitar. Things get rougher on "Brain Freeze" as serrated steel sounds carve chunks out of the song. This song's outlying mood is fuelled by tresses of suppurating molten drone, a last blow-out before the dying of the light.
The beginning of the track is misleading because its drifting guitars, droning electronics, and occasional chimes and rumbles have a near-mystical quality. In fact, as nice as it is, I was initially afraid that an entire album of such a mood might lose its power by the time it finished. Turns out that this was merely a false sense of security because the music suddenly takes a nasty turn after about 13 minutes. What had been calming is now discordant, the tension and volume increasing in equal measure.
From there it keeps evolving subtly, coming to a harrowing peak with churning feedback amid crackling distortion. Thankfully, it mellows with a much-needed respite of cleans tones and gentle bursts of bass. This ending isn't quite soothing, but it is still effective at counteracting the gnarled tangles that preceded it. The ever-unfolding nuances of this recording are fascinating whether calm and relaxed or swollen to bewildering heights.
Beyond the Wizard's Sleeve, "West"
3rd Mynd
Although their name alternately suggests a Tolkien-inspired progressive rock group, or a tasteless pussy joke, Beyond the Wizard's Sleeve is actually an audacious musical hybrid that is much more tasteful than either of these two possible meanings would seem to indicate. BTWS is DJ/producer Erol Alkan working with Richard Norris, the experimental dance producer who was one-half of The Grid, and part of Psychic TV during the Jack the Tab years. Together, these two have birthed an entirely new genre, carefully editing and looping old psychedelic pop, mod and garage records from the 1960s into hypnotic, blissed out dancefloor anthems. In this, the Age of Recycled Culture, the idea of turning old freakbeat and krautrock records into repetitive, open-ended, mixable dance jams is one whose time has come. The rapturous hedonism created by these heady mixes is indescribable: a strange mixture of borrowed nostalgia and thrilling novelty. Dance music has always been psychedelic, and by literalizing the connection between 60s psychedelia and 00s club culture, Alkan and Norris outdo PTV at their own game. BTWS have been DJing parties for the past couple years, spinning sets that contain nary a track from the DFA or Ed Banger. Instead, you might hear an extended remix of The Rolling Stones' "2000 Light Years From Home," fading into a hallucinogenic reworking of The Hollies' "King Midas In Reverse," rubbing shoulders with a perversely retooled version of The Monkees' "Can You Dig It?" Because their music relies so heavily on old records—for which there can be no doubt that they have not received copyright clearance—their 12" EPs are released on the fly-by-night label 3rd Mynd, quickly going of print. This newest release contains six tracks of lysergic weirdness to make clubbers of all levels of intoxication see trails. The intro "Space" is a tape-delayed loop of William Shatner's opening monologue from the original Star Trek series, a deliciously campy way to kick things off. Things get further out with "Get Ready to Fly," which has an awesome swirling horn loop and typically starry-eyed vocals: "Get ready to fly/We'll see silver birds in the sky." On the b-side, "You Can Talk To Me" is a re-edit of The Beatles' "Hey Bulldog," emphasizing the jaunty rhythm section, looping John Lennon's vocals to raucous, anthemic effect. Free love, free acid and nouveau riche Euro club trash: this is the kind of party I want to be invited to.
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Hercules & Love Affair, "Blind"
DFA
Hercules & Love Affair are a new signing to the DFA imprint, the work of Andy Butler, a house music classicist through and through. His previous 12" for DFA ("Classique #2") was a superlative exercise in purism: velvety basslines, crisp drum programming, and an atmospheric vocal refrain in the classic diva mold. The b-side ("Roar") was in the same vein, but a bit more maximalist, hard-hitting, and enlivened with a slight but unmistakable vocal contribution from one Antony Hegarty, queer troubador and perhaps the most sought-after guest vocalist after T-Pain. This new single is a teaser for the upcoming full-length album, containing three versions of "Blind," a song that dispenses with much of the house-style synthesis of "Classique #2" in order to go full-tilt disco. Butler approaches this sophisticated, downtown disco with the same determined purism that he approached house music with, creating a sparkling concoction of congos, handclaps, organic bass, shimmering synth arpeggiations, horn fanfares and a full vocal contribution from Antony. The lyrics have all the melodrama of a classic Sylvester side, with perhaps a bit more gay pathos: "As a child I knew, that the stars would only get brighter/And we would get closer/Leaving this darkness behind." The track is fabulously well-produced and unashamedly over-the-top. This CD single contains the album version of the track, an extended club mix that emphasizes the kicks and synth-lines, and an instrumental version. All this bodes very well for Butler's upcoming full-length, which has the potential to be one of the best albums released for DFA after a run of recent lackluster efforts from the likes of LCD Soundsystem, Black Dice and the Shocking Pinks. Hercules & Love Affair is the perfect addition to the DFA stable.
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Underground Resistance, "Footwars"
UR
The recent music issued from the UR camp has focused on organic, seemingly live percussion (no plasticated 909 thumps) forming the backbone for cannily constructed, uptempo tracks that finally stick their head out of the deep, dark subterranean hole in which the UR collective has been firmly ensconced for years. There's nothing subaquatic, scratchy or vague sounding about the main attraction on this recently issued 12", called "Detroit vs. Chicago." The song is all energy and bounce, almost lighthearted when compared to classic UR missives, which literalized the post-industrial wasteland of Detroit in audio form. Perhaps this is because the battle metaphor being employed here calls for something more extroverted and confrontational, rather than cerebral and withdrawn. Either way, this is a fucking ridiculously great slab of vinyl, pitting two long-standing dance cultures against each other, an insistent beat joined by an irresistable, badonka-donk bassline. Two small vocal snippets, neither of which I can decipher, form a call-and-response as the track unfolds, never afraid to push repetition to its limits, but always giving up the goods. The goods come in the form of some wicked samples that sound like an old car engine being forced to start against its will. The b-side contains two instrumental versions, perfect for creating your own mash-ups, or using as a backing track for a freestyle rap.
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Matthew Dear, "Don and Sherri"
Ghostly International
Matthew Dear's Asa Breed was probably my favorite album of 2007. It was certainly the album I listened to the most, representing the perfect musical marriage of heaven and hell. Dear's intensely rendered machinic beat constructions, moody baritone vocals, dark grainy atmospheres and bizarrely out-of-tune instrumentation conspired to create one of the only albums I've ever heard that convincingly bridges the gap between cutting-edge techno and urbane pop. This 12" on Ghostly contains several versions of one of Asa Breed's standout tracks, the druggy, esoteric "Don and Sherri," a disorienting and queasy song that hits all the right notes, even as it utterly dislocates. The track seems ripe for the remix treatment, but only one of the versions included here arrive at worthwhile results. M.A.N.D.Y. attempts to rework the song into a variatinion on A Number of Names' "Sharevari." The attempt is admirable, but the penchant for whimsicality and eclecticism on the display do the track a disservice, and I can't imagine returning for another go-round. Hot Chip's remix, however, is stunning, upping the pop quotient by several degrees, foregrounding Dear's vocals and surrounding them with 10CC-style textural atmospherics and ethereal background vocals. An instrumental version of the Hot Chip remix is also included, nice but superfluous. The EP concludes with a DJ Koze remix of my favorite Asa Breed track, "Elementary Lover." By stripping away some of the grime from the track and constructing his own kitschy, cartoonish, technicolor backing for Dear's wry vocals, DJ Koze succeeds at completely recontextualizing the song, but in a way which never seems forced or false. I'm not sure if any of this stuff would work particularly well for any but the most adventurous, avant-garde DJ sets, but in my book, that's a positive.
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Fischerspooner, "The Best Revenge"
Kitsune Maison
Poor Fischerspooner: their sophomore album Odyssey tanked hard, unfavorably (and perhaps inevitably) compared to their breakthrough debut album. The accompanying tour was a study in failure, Messrs. Spooner and Fischer making the bonehead decision to forsake everything for which they were known: intensely visual live peformances, lip-syncing, synchronized dancing, costume changes and avant-garde theater tactics. In their place, all audiences got was the sneering, talentless Casey Spooner on an ego trip doing poorly rendered versions of FS songs with a live band. Mercifully, the tour was cancelled halfway through. It was a gamble that didn't pay off, not even slightly. No one goes to a Fischerspooner show expecting integrity and authenticity; they go because they want something gloriously superficial, outrageous and campy. I'm not sure if the existence of this new 12" single, recently released on the French Kitsune Maison label, is any indication that FS have been quietly and unceremoniously released from their major label contract, but you certainly couldn't blame Capitol for dropping them like a hot potato. In any case, this single sucks major ass, and sounds so phoned in that it might as well have been recorded on voice mail. Trading on the time-honored cliche that "the best revenge is living well," Spooner sings about his wealthy lifestyle over a plodding, overworked track that sounds like a Robert Palmer b-side from the mid-1980s, only not as fresh or clever. The extended, compression-house "Autokratz Righteous Retribution Mix" improves slightly upon its source material, by dispensing with the vocals, locating an actual "groove" and running with it. Alex Gopher's "Retaliation Remix" pushes the track into darker territory, a pulse-pounding rave-up complete with cheesy, dramatic breaks. It's not very good, I'm afraid, though it sure beats the original. I think that Fischerspooner should just quit while they're still behind, but since when has good judgment and restraint ever been a part of this project?
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The stark packaging adorning this CD gives no hint of the majesty of David Jackman's latest drone opus. Omega marks the third and final instalment of a trilogy that started with Sanctus on Robot Records and continued with Amen, also on Die Stadt.
This is indeed an adventurous release, composed essentially of one lengthy organ (and what sounds like a sitar) drone track broken up into three equal segments of just over 15 minutes' duration each. For any fan of either Organum or drone epics then this is something of a treat: the use of the swirling organ—with occasional interjections of bass counterpoints—lends this an utterly uplifting and deeply spiritual, sacral, and contemplative quality. This does indeed sound as if an organ from some huge cathedral or grotto was employed in its creation; the overall effect is one of vast spaces being filled with the music, all the while resonating with and echoing off of centuries-old stone edifices. Simultaneously the organ also invests the track with a warmth and closeness that made me want to wrap myself in it—this whole piece felt like an all-enveloping blanket of reassuring sound. As a consequence this is definitely one of those releases that seemingly not only gets into the brain to stimulate the intellectual and spiritual centers but also has the capacity to resonate at the physical level too; I almost expected my diaphragm and brain to start vibrating in sympathy with it, such is the depth and strength of the music and the bass drones.
It seems almost profane to describe Omega in any way other than spiritual or sacral. This could possibly be classified as a reinvigoration of sacred English and European baroque church music of which this seems to be an heir, with both a reinterpretation of that style and a re-alignment in conformation to a 21st century aesthetic. Although in many ways it could be argued that this is quite static and fails to evolve over the entire 45 minute length. I don't think that that's the point here; in combination with that uplifting quality I spoke of previously there is also a sublime sense of timelessness evident, almost verging on the eternal—almost as if once started then it will continue forever, until indeed the universe attains its own ultimate omega. Just like there are always beginnings somewhere out there in the limitless universe, so too there are endings—and this is a beautifully uplifting rendering of those very eternally-occurring endings (omegas).
(As an aside, after having listened to this about three or four times continuously, I felt slightly light-headed - I wonder if it was because of the effect the music was having on me...)
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