DFA
Pixeltan have been kicking around since 2001, but haven't been heardfrom much, releasing only a self-produced EP and a track on the epochalTroubleman Mix Tape.Pixeltan members include Devin Flynn and Mika Yonata of PlateTectonics, and Hisham Bharoocha, ex-drummer for Black Dice. This new 33RPM disc of white-label DJ vinyl should rectify the group's obscurity,as it's being released by the eternally name-checked DFA label. It's atypical DFA production through-and-through, pushing a relentlessadrenaline-pumped 4/4 snarescape with thick, throbbing basslines andsubsonic booty blasts. "Get Up/Say What (DFA Remix)" is the mainattraction, a nine-minute marriage of two Pixeltan tracks given thedeath disco once-over by James Murphy and Tim Goldsworthy. Mika's sassygrowls and shrieks are echoplexed into dubby oblivion, nodding in thedirection of The Slits, but as she continues to yell "So what?"repeatedly, she ends up closer to "Me and My Rhythm Box" from cult filmLiquid Sky. And here as always, the DFA team adds a druggy vibeto the proceedings, filling the track out with pupil-dilating whacks ofsynth and fluttering, lightheaded MDMA shudders. Side B is filled outwith the original version of "Get Up" and another track called "That'sthe Way I Like It," both fun, but lacking the sexy urban hedonism ofSide A. With "Get Up/Say What," however, Pixeltan and DFA have createdanother breathless dancefloor-filler, destined to be the set-endingtrack at every Williamsburg loft party for at least the next two weeks.
Pixeltan have been kicking around since 2001, but haven't been heardfrom much, releasing only a self-produced EP and a track on the epochalTroubleman Mix Tape.Pixeltan members include Devin Flynn and Mika Yonata of PlateTectonics, and Hisham Bharoocha, ex-drummer for Black Dice. This new 33RPM disc of white-label DJ vinyl should rectify the group's obscurity,as it's being released by the eternally name-checked DFA label. It's atypical DFA production through-and-through, pushing a relentlessadrenaline-pumped 4/4 snarescape with thick, throbbing basslines andsubsonic booty blasts. "Get Up/Say What (DFA Remix)" is the mainattraction, a nine-minute marriage of two Pixeltan tracks given thedeath disco once-over by James Murphy and Tim Goldsworthy. Mika's sassygrowls and shrieks are echoplexed into dubby oblivion, nodding in thedirection of The Slits, but as she continues to yell "So what?"repeatedly, she ends up closer to "Me and My Rhythm Box" from cult filmLiquid Sky. And here as always, the DFA team adds a druggy vibeto the proceedings, filling the track out with pupil-dilating whacks ofsynth and fluttering, lightheaded MDMA shudders. Side B is filled outwith the original version of "Get Up" and another track called "That'sthe Way I Like It," both fun, but lacking the sexy urban hedonism ofSide A. With "Get Up/Say What," however, Pixeltan and DFA have createdanother breathless dancefloor-filler, destined to be the set-endingtrack at every Williamsburg loft party for at least the next two weeks. 
Focus and cocentration are absolutely essential to this album. Withoutthose two features, all of these songs would've probably turned outlike the ones on Aftermathematics Instrumental.The ingredients on this record are simple, though: heavy and wavingbass melodies, steady percussion, and a just hint of the sexual. Anoverwhelming sense of dark, seductive power hovers over Version 2 Versionthe instant the bass drops on "Dystopia" and it only intensifies until"Night City" and "System Malfunction" close the record up. The music isfairly inconspicuous so far as dub is concerned, but the atmoshphericsthat Laswell and company manage to pull out of their instruments areastounding. "Babylon Site" not only struts along as though it wereuntouchable and utterly of another world, it also rings and pulses withthe soul of ease and promiscuity. The sexual references can't behelped; I half expect that this album was recorded in a dark and dampbasement to the images of lusty encounter. Hi-hats chirp and stutterwith the silk playing of electric guitars and classic dub sounds.There's enough reverb and echo on most of these songs to send any soberlistener into a realm of cosmic light shows and slow motion existence.The gritty sounds that are coaxed out of the instruments and the almosttoo pure stream of sound effects make an otherwise typical dub recordsound exceptional. There's nothing but pure, throbbing tones on thisrecord with occaisional use of a bouncing keyboard or a guitar moaningitself to death. The sparse use of tabla rhythms and vocal effects helpkeep the mood of the record unpredictable. When "Night City" and itsspazzed out rhythm section blew up at the end of "Babylon Site," I wasthoroughly surprised. I'm not talking about a huge jump stylistically,but Laswell tweaked the mood just enough to keep me listening throughthe record. The sci-fi closer is a gem of groove production. "SystemMalfunction" rolls along like a steam train powered by the heart andsoul of reggae and hot summer nights. Instead of trying to do athousand things at once and make every song significantly differentfrom one another, Laswell has kept things tight and uniform. The resultis an album a hundred times better than the last one I listened to fromhim.
Despite the increasingly dangerous political climate in today's world,especially George W. Bush's America, the majority of major label andunderground acts seem almost universally mired down in creatingmeaningless yet pleasant noise with a groovy beat, catchy vocal hook,or some other attractive characteristic. Altogether rejecting thepowerful crosscultural tradition of music as social megaphone, musichas turned its back on not only history but the present and future aswell. With only a select few independent acts expressing their outrageor concern via creative means, those of us yearning for something witha message often have to look far and wide for something even remotelyaddressing national/international crises and controversies that trulymatter. While 'Heavy Heavy Monster Dub' may not be the most potent cryfor social change, that it takes time even referring to the issues is awelcome break from ignorance and apathy. Musically, the group's"positive" sound is refreshing and forward-thinking, with livedowntempo breaks and programmed loops acting as backbeat to instrumentsboth traditional and synthesized. Adorning their tracks with thoughtfuland provocative names ("Evil Empire" and "Preempive Dub", to name afew) in the footsteps of experimental peers Muslimgauze or Richard H.Kirk, Austrian dub lovers Dubblestandart try to use their time toconvey alternative ideas and promote futher exploration andinvestigation on the part of the listener. "Streets Of Dub" opens thealbum with an Eastern introduction that quickly meets with ahead-nodding rhythm, funky bass guitar line, and carefully placedvocals from Camel. The title track benefits from contributions from dublegends Sly & Robbie and Dillinger, balancing time-honored Jamaicanelements with loungey Viennese house beats. Two more remixes of itappear on the album, from Dreadzone and Nick Manasseh respectively,each one pulling their favorite parts together to create two vastlydifferent versions. Mikey Dread and Sonic Colin lend their voices tothe funky "Dub Is The Roots," though the Mad Professor mix sounds farmore bright and crisp for some reason. Keith LeBlanc's mix of"Terrorists & Inhalers" is more orthodox than most of the cutshere, as is to be expected from this On-U Sound and Tack>>Headveteran, though it still benefits from a few sonic twists and tweaks.Camel reappears towards the end, contributing cautionary vocals to"Watch The Future", an atmospheric delectation with an infectious beatand uplifting melodies and flourishes. Arguably the best new dub albumthat has come across my desk this year, those of you on the proper"wavelength" or who still haven't ventured beyond The Bug or, dare Isay, Bob Marley should seek this one out.
The Dutch collective known for their anarchist/punk-based, communal, and musical style mishmoshing tendencies blast out a powerful two-LP/CD set of all new material. Engineered once again by Steve Albini in Chicago, Turn could easily be the strongest album of the year. In the three years since their last full-length recording, Dizzy Spells, the Ex have kept busy touring places on this planet most people would be afraid to go, making a few ATP appearances, collaborating on more In the Fishtank recordings, and working in various combinations on other peoples records.
We need another forced dance music sub-genre like we need more ironicmullets. Rephlex's press for this compilation talks valiantly about howit's just the music and not the labels to which we should be payingattention, but then it goes and hypes this new style dance music hybridcalled "Grime". Grime to me would indicate a real layer of dirt,menace, or sonic or thematic depravity, but none of that is to be foundin these polished dancefloor stompers that bridge the artificial gapsbetween electro, drum n bass, garage and just about every other clubmusic popular in the last five years. The fact that some of this stufflike MarkOne's "Raindance" is pretty catchy as far as club music goesis overshadowed by the presentation and the conceit that this is a newscene and new sound to be gobbled up before it's past its prime. Imean, isn't that the general modus operandi of nearly all dance music?Every innovation and genre splice is just a way to keep peoplelistening to what are otherwise thousands of tons of vinyl that isproduced with a strict formula in mind. Grimeis most certainly meant for the dancefloor as it lacks the variationand depth of contemporary electronic listening music. The patterns andrepetition are designed to make people move, and move they will untilenough records within this tempo range with these kinds of trademarkscome out. After that, we'll get a new bin in the DJ stores for"Post-Grime" or something. The problem with this record to me is thatit purports to pioneer something, but there's nothing here that wouldsound fresh to anyone but the most ardent genre-hound. It's music madefor a select audience, and in that I'm sure it succeeds as theproducers here prove they have plenty of chops for creating bouncybreakbeats and thumping bass. However, I find it unlikely that Grimewill interest anyone outside of the stuffy world of snotty DJ circlesand trendy club kids. It certainly didn't do much for me. 
Hip-hop records live and die by their MCs. A DJ can cut as crazy as hewants and a producer can mine the weirdest record bins this side of themoon but if the MC isn't solid, the record will fall flat.Unfortunately, that's what happens for this ambitious work fromRadioinactive and Antimc. While the music is quirky, unpredictable andsufficiently groovy, the vocals just do not work for me. This is moreof that self-described 'art rap' that mixes stiff rhymes and heady freeverse with off-beat production and live instrumentation, and while someof it is fun, this just isn't. Fans of similar Mush artists will likelyenjoy Radioinactive's flow, but the too-direct, too-choppy,too-preachy, too-simple rhymes often come off as amateurish andill-performed. Spitting out words over a beat is an art, and one that'sa lot harder to do well than most people seem to think. While some ofRadioinactive's contemporaries have an off-kilter delivery that worksbecause it's strange and fresh, most of Free Kamalreminds me of one of those files you might find online of a kid rappinginto a webcam. If Mush had gone the Cex/Dr. Octagon/Cannibal Ox routeof releasing an instrumental and vocal copy of Free Kamal, I'm sure I'd pop it in more often, but as it stands, the record has a fatal flaw that I just can't get past to enjoy.
This collection proves that Best Of is truly a relative term. In the case of Anna Domino (nee' Anne Taylor), the term is relative to the generally poor quality of her tired, continental pop. So, Best Of need not necessarily indicate quality in and of itself. And if the songs on Dreamback are indeed the cream of Anna Domino's extensive back catalog, I think I can safely steer clear of her albums.
If Belgian group Bernthøler are remembered at all, they are rememberedfor their classic 1984 single "My Suitor," a cello-driven slice ofsweetly downbeat chamber pop. It was a favorite of legendary BBC radioDJ John Peel, and became a cult underground hit for the Brusselsquartet. They released a couple subsequent singles that failed to makewaves, committed some demo tracks to tape and disbanded in 1985. Lapdissolve two decades later, and LTM has put together a definitivecollection of this all-but-forgotten band. Comprising the completestudio recordings of the band, released and unreleased, Merry Lines in the Skyalso includes three Quicktime videos, including one for "My Suitor."I've listened to the disc a couple of times through now, and havestruggled for something positive to say about the rest of Bernthøler 'smaterial. Unfortunately, it seems that success and longevity eludedBernthøler as a direct consequence of the quality of their music, andnot by some cruel accident of fate. Where "My Suitor" succeeds becauseof its minimal arrangements and Albanian-born singer Drita Kotaji'ssoftly expressive couplets, the rest of the tracks collected here failto distinguish themselves at all. This is not to say that Bernthølerare utterly devoid of talent; merely that they rather unremarkablyapproximate the "coldwave" sound of their contemporaries, echoed byother bands like The Cure and Antena. Kotaji's tuneless vocals franklybecome a little grating over the course of the disc, and theoversimplified arrangements often work to the detriment of the songs.Many of these tracks seem underwritten and stunted, suffering from apaucity of ideas, interesting as fragments but ultimately notcompelling. For those who remember "My Suitor" fondly and haven't beenable to find any of the compilations on which it has appeared over theyears, you could probably do worse than dropping a ten-pound note topurchase Merry Lines, and it's possible you might find the other 14 tracks pleasant. Just don't expect to uncover some unjustly obscure gem.
The songs on Night Air 2evoke the experience of walking across wet cobblestones slick withrain, ducking under awnings of sidewalk cafes and antiquarianbookstores, aimless and anonymous in an unfamiliar city at night.Blaine L. Reininger, a native of Colorado who has lived in Europe sincethe early 1980s, draws heavily upon his expatriate sense ofisolation—geographic, linguistic and emotional—to create an articulatesuite of mature pop songs. Most will know Reininger from his more than20-year stint as frontman for the intermittently brilliant groupTuxedomoon, creators of Half-Mute, Desire and handful ofessential art-punk classics. In the long gaps between the group'speriods of activity, Reininger has pursued a fruitful solo career,releasing a string of baroque pop albums highlighting his talent as amulti-instrumentalist and witty lyricist. This album is billed as asequel to 1984's Night Air, but that's a bit misleading, as itwould be more aptly described as a best-of, consisting of 15hand-picked tracks from albums and soundtracks recorded between 1989and 1999. All of this material has been available previously, but invery rare pressings on Belgium's Crepuscule and other small Europeanlabels. As he has done on so many Tuxedomoon releases, Reininger playsviolin and viola throughout Night Air 2, building each songfrom multi-tracked layers of dark, swooning strings. The rest of thesound is filled out with an assortment of synthesizers, keyboards andrhythm boxes, adding up to an urbane, metropolitan sound that matchesthe sophistication of a Stan Ridgeway or Gavin Friday, with its ownunique Kafka-esque atmospheres. Reininger is fascinated by the noirexpressionism of Fritz Lang films and Fritz Bleyl woodcuts, and hisparanoid, cinematic atmospheres perfectly capture this zeitgeist. Attimes, the swirl of overlapping strings resembles the sound of aone-man chamber quartet covering Anton Karas' soundtrack to The Third Man.I've heard other modern versions of this noir sound—I'm thinking of themusic of Barry Adamson and Goldfrapp—but Reininger's approach has theworldly appeal and poise of a veteran. The thick, textural glissandi of"Night Ride" careen down dimly lit nocturnal boulevards, carriedforward by propulsive keyboards. "Winter in Wien" is the first of athree-part song suite entitled "Europe After the Rains," a sentimentalhomage to Max Ernst which doubles as an atmospheric meditation on theprofound sense of history the solitary traveler experiences in oldEurope. The songs switch freely between spoken-work beatnik recitationsand refrains sung in English or French. Night Air 2 displays anintelligence and elegance so rare in modern pop music that at firstlisten it seems entirely foreign, but is all the more welcome for it.
After releasing their acclaimed debut album in 1999, it was abundantlyclear that Auburn Lull have a firm grasp on the finer points ofshoegazer space rock, and their music holds a power that they alonecontrol and wield, letting it out in beautiful doses and specimens thatcan cause the heart and brain to swell. For their new album, they chosenot to branch out a great deal and keep the formula somewhat constant —not a bad thing but a firm limitation that has the potential toadversely affect the proceedings. There is growth in the band both asmusicians and songwriters, and it should not be said that the music isstagnating within this structure. However, at times on this album itfeels like the band is simply repeating themselves, working from acomfortable base but then not expounding. Some chances might be nice tohear, but ultimately the album is a satisfying one in many areas. Evensomething quite simple like the blending of songs from one into thenext is handled with an almost medical precision, and the mood nevershifts abruptly to jar one from the state of consciousness that isdeveloped. The echoes that are captured on these songs are those ofaching hearts and starving minds, of people miles apart though right inthe same room together, of flighty concepts of things in the walls andthe way things ought to be. Simple melodies and trickery abound, withsamples and echoed percussion joined by droned guitars and simple notesplucked and repeated. Atmosphere is key, as each song is practicallydrenched in the weight of a place and time as well as a feeling orwords. "Season of False Starts" illustrates this pursuit perfectly withbuild upon build, then, appropriately, false starts and stops, thevoice ghostly rendering the words "decades fall apart," among otherthings. It's almost like the music of lessons or voices from beyond thegrave will use, old Hamlet lecturing his son and saying "do notforget." While the album feels like they're referring to themselves,they also touch something far deeper within, and in those moments theyapproach the next stage in their evolution.
