Mirex
As I mentioned in my review of the Xanopticon album some months back,breakcore seems like the most probable style of music to take over themantle of IDM. Considering the recent Revelry & Decadence as the Right of Slaves:the process-driven pseudo academia calling itself music these daysseems closer to dying out in some mathematical tar pit. Taking a uniqueand harsh approach to this still-blossoming subgenre, Fanny eschews thepost-rave trappings and pop-culture plunderphonics of many of hiscontemporaries on his second full-length album for Ant-Zen sublabelMirex. Instead of hyper-jungle cut-ups and snippets of rap singles,listeners can expect an alarmingly abrasive cacophony that astonishes,aggravates, and entertains all at once. Lunatic tracks like "Salome,""Bacchanale," and "Wine, Women & Sin" abuse and dissect drum loopsto a point where they are no longer recognizable nor decipherable.Keeping with the infamous depravity and lunacy of its namesake,"Caligula" initially bares its teeth with a vicious noisy rhythmpattern before shifting gears dramatically towards a more quirky tribalsound. "Pyramids Of Mars" showcases some bombastic militant drummingalongside its sliced breakbeats and heavily distorted samples. Amongthe equally eclectic and eccentric 20 tracks here are a handful ofshorter pieces that provide amusement and confusion, such as thefractured Eastern grooves of "300lb Transvestite Bellydance" and thecartoonish freakout "Kaliyuga." While many current electronic musicianscontinue to bury their noses deeper and deeper into books and software,Fanny gives all that one giant middle finger salute and keeps the manicfree spirit of acts like Aphex Twin alive.
As I mentioned in my review of the Xanopticon album some months back,breakcore seems like the most probable style of music to take over themantle of IDM. Considering the recent Revelry & Decadence as the Right of Slaves:the process-driven pseudo academia calling itself music these daysseems closer to dying out in some mathematical tar pit. Taking a uniqueand harsh approach to this still-blossoming subgenre, Fanny eschews thepost-rave trappings and pop-culture plunderphonics of many of hiscontemporaries on his second full-length album for Ant-Zen sublabelMirex. Instead of hyper-jungle cut-ups and snippets of rap singles,listeners can expect an alarmingly abrasive cacophony that astonishes,aggravates, and entertains all at once. Lunatic tracks like "Salome,""Bacchanale," and "Wine, Women & Sin" abuse and dissect drum loopsto a point where they are no longer recognizable nor decipherable.Keeping with the infamous depravity and lunacy of its namesake,"Caligula" initially bares its teeth with a vicious noisy rhythmpattern before shifting gears dramatically towards a more quirky tribalsound. "Pyramids Of Mars" showcases some bombastic militant drummingalongside its sliced breakbeats and heavily distorted samples. Amongthe equally eclectic and eccentric 20 tracks here are a handful ofshorter pieces that provide amusement and confusion, such as thefractured Eastern grooves of "300lb Transvestite Bellydance" and thecartoonish freakout "Kaliyuga." While many current electronic musicianscontinue to bury their noses deeper and deeper into books and software,Fanny gives all that one giant middle finger salute and keeps the manicfree spirit of acts like Aphex Twin alive. 
Alhough it does little to follow through on its genre-addressing title, cheeky or otherwise, The D&B Album still emerges as one of Bowindo's more accessible releases to date. From the playful motorik pulsings of the opening "Cascocity" it's clear that the musicians choose not the weighted expressionism or colorful electroacoustics that characterized the label's previous output and will opt instead for "electro" alone, forging a new brand of body music for new kinds of bodies.
DNA played angular freak noise for spastic punks; fiercely intellectual, bordering on the psychotic. The Brazilian-born Arto Lindsay played guitar in the most anti-musical, reptilian brand of non-funk that had ever been heard outside of music hour at the local laughing academy, barking and shrieking like a constipated Artaud in clipped fragments of opaque poeticism. Ikue Mori played a drum set with big taiko sticks in a manner that suggested neo-tribalism but delivered cold, muscular propulsion. Robin Crutchfield's synths unsympathetically reveled in circular insanity, and later, Tim Wright's bass danced around flittingly like a dying mosquito, never finding a foothold, falling over itself in a mad rush to the end of the song.
It's been about five years since Andrew Chalk released his last solo effort, Over the Edges.His newest album comes as a vinyl-only release in an edition of 600copies and not only does it look excellent (the sleeve artwork and the little flourishes on the record itself are gorgeous), but it sounds absolutely majestic. Split into two side-long pieces, Fall in the Wake of a Flawless Landscape carries with it the same foreboding energy that 1999's Over the Edgeshad, but it also resonates a ubiquitous calm that feels something likefloating on ocean waves. Chalk's drones stay consistent throughout,relenting only to reveal more ominous tones under the dominant ring anddrag of some timeless organ. The blurred images of the cover bring tomind a haunted spectre traversing some dark plain covered in tallgrasses and of unbearable size; no matter how far that figure travels,the disqueting feeling of infinity is always present. Anxiety dominatesthe album, but so does a sense of privacy. Throughout, I imagine myselfas this fictional pilgrim caught up in some endless search and, at thesame time, that long and lonely feeling opens up some kind of innerpeace, as though I am happy being alone and lost. So far as the soundgoes, Chalk's compositional skills are unbeatable. Whenever the soundsbecome too ghastly or alarming, Chalk shifts gears and somehow invertsthem into striking and monumental sounds of great beauty. Strings buzz,organs disintegrate, and whales bellow their songs over this landscape,all in a harmony that defies any easy explanation. This is what Chalkdoes best though: defy easy anything. Fall in the Wake...occupies several emotional and atmospheric worlds at once: the denseand open, the terrifying and the awesome, and the contradictorypositions of both quiet and loud. It's a difficult middle ground thatChalk finds and weaves into music and it's a difficult middle groundthat few others can accomplish. This release has me anxiously awaitingthe next Mirror album and has put me in the unenviable position ofwanting more solo Chalk music: five years between albums is too long towait. 
It's so difficult not to daydream during the summer months. Theweather's warm and the office or an urban jungle is the last placeanybody would want to be: gasping for air through the heavy smog whenit seems like everybody else in the world's on vacation. Black Dice'slatest album is no help. The sounds on Creature Comfortsare easily some of the most intoxicating imaginable, with delicateguitar, sonic warbles, birds and bubble pops, and delay effects thattake a life completely independent of the input. For the first fewtracks, I'm on a remote tropical beach, somewhere between consiousnessand unconsciounsess where sights and sounds completely blur due to theoverwhelming heat or something funky in the drink. By the fourth song,"Creature," Black Dice introduce steady pulsing beats, but not the typethat get blasted on a boombox of some girl in a bikini on rollerskatespassing by, but the nightlife of a unique culture far removed from whatthe tourists can find. A brief interlude and the 15+ minute "Skeleton"washes in, peaceful and slow-paced, with consonant guitar strums, likestaring at the ocean under a moonlit sky. Halfway through, the nightsky is illuminated with a sparkling shower of either bats or shootingstars, I can't figure it out. "Schwip Schwap" is brief transition,changing courses a few times in two minutes, like a walk back to campas the smooth beach sand between the feet becomes pavement and a pauseis taken to put sandals back on. It gracefully leads into the album'scloser, "Night Flight," with a quiet intro, then a roar of an engine,and it's off into the darkness on the back of a scooter with the windblowing through the hair. So, if this album is playing and I'm asleepat my desk, don't wake me, because your face in this place is the lastthing I want to see.
The third album from this semi-amorphous Newburyport, MA, band shows anew growth as well as a newfound playfulness, making for a thoroughlyenjoyable listening experience. Regular partners-in-crime Juliet Nelsonand JR Gallagher rejoin Dylan Metrano in the studio to make some movingsongs based upon contemporary literature and music but completely theirown, with the exception of a stunning Wolf Colonel cover that theyalmost steal from its originators. Wolf Colonel's Jason Anderson lendshis multiple talents to the record, as does Marc Gartman, allowing themusic to move in many directions at once on a whim. The result is abraver, rawer, and more passionate Tiger Saw with the power to eitherdecimate or reduce to tears anyone who listens. The dueling/blendingvoices of Metrano and Nelson are to die for, as always, and Andersoneven joins in here and there, adding a new dimension to the vocalpresence. Where there is a real difference is in the music, as themelodies and presence of these songs is more confrontational than theband has shown in the past. It's almost as though they arereinvigorated or reinspired in their craft, taking more chances andfeeling less dependent on their past. Even the mixing seems to bringeverything more to the forefront, and right at the listener, conveyingan emotionally charged reality. The first few songs on the album swayfrom themes light-hearted to contemplative and near bitter to somber,and there's nary a misstep to be found. This is well-crafted art,created and presented with a pure heart bent on the task, projectingwhatever it feels at that moment. The song where I completely becameimmersed in the wonder of it all was the simple and gorgeousinstrumental "West of the Sun," with a crescendo that almost eclipsesthe rest of the record. To think that this band has that power evenwithout their much-lauded singing ability was pleasing, to say theleast. With all of the different layers Tiger Saw peeled off to reachthis point, they're bound to uncover more magic underneath. For thistime, there's plenty to go around.
Icelandic newcomer Orlygur Thor Orlygsson creates primarily short butsweet instrumental guitar pieces, and on his debut album he displays awide range of emotions and styles. Ölvis has the good sense toconcentrate on the good moments and not dwell too long on pieces, whichmakes for a streamlined debut that introduces his handiwork withoutneedless filler. Recorded and played by Orlygsson with a few guests ondrums and synth only, the album is also a self-made man kind ofachievement. There are moments where it's hard to believe that one mancreated all these lush and pleasant soundscapes, so on that level,mission accomplished. Unfortunately, there are some areas where I couldnot avoid the feeling that certain elements were particularly annoying.First, "mostly" instrumental means that there are vocals here andthere, and they are so drenched in effects and faded in the mix thatthey're hardly noticeable. However, occasionally they are audible justenough to know that they are ever so slightly off-key, and that makesthem unnecessary andoff-putting. Instrumental only would be preferred on those tracks,since the music itself is quite pleasing. Here and there, though, eventhat has its moments of what I like to call nails-on-a-chalkboardness,such as when the music is a bit too repetitive with not enoughvariation. Switching to the other section earlier would have savedthese tracks for me, but as it stands I would more than likely skipthem on repeat listens. These are minor complaints on an otherwisewell-rounded debut, however, as Orlygsson has all the other bases morethan covered. Memorable melodies, a good mix of instruments, peaks andvalleys, and the incorporation of varied rhythms and styles make this adebut full of things to like. There is room for improvement, but that'sall in good time; for now, there's plenty more present to make up forit.
This release ties up some loose ends, collecting the studio material from a few elusive Current 93 releases: Looney Runes, Lucifer Over London, Tamlin and Misery Farm. It's a welcome release for those who didn't spring for these limited-edition EPs back when they were released, or for people who are just now getting up to speed with Current 93. What immediately sets SixSixSix: SickSickSick apart from other Current 93 compilations of previously existing material is the superior quality of the music.
Jhon Balance and Sleazy are no longer partners. Sleazy's moved toThailand, and Jhon's moved to London. The physical location ofThreshold House, where Coil used to live and record their music, hasbeen abandoned. Jhon Balance has a new lover and collaborator, artistIan Johnstone, he's grown a D.H. Lawrence-style beard, and seems tohave fallen once again into a vortex of substance abuse and insanity.Both Jhon and Sleazy have announced that they are now working onnon-Coil side projects. Despite all evidence to the contrary, however,Coil have continued to insist that they are not breaking up. The firstevidence of this came with their recent mini-tour through a handful ofEuropean cities, their so-called "Even An Evil Fatigue" tour. At eachof their concert dates, they've been selling this CD-R entitled Black Antlers.With the exception of a new version of "Broccoli" and a song called"Tattooed Man," (apparently destined for inclusion on the long-agoscrapped Dark Age of Love LP), the songs on this disc mirrorthe setlist of the recent concerts. In fact, the barebones packagingand low-fidelity recording of Black Antlers leads me to suspectthat it is nothing but a glorified concert rehearsal captured onrecord. According to various sources, Coil have plans to re-record andre-mix this material, and will eventually give it an official release.Therefore, I should probably withhold final judgment on these songs.However, it's hard not to notice the under-produced, impromptu natureof the music and vocals. There is a loose, improvisatory feel to thesetracks that I'm not altogether convinced is the final word for thesesongs. Jhon Balance's vocals are given too much prominence in the mix,overwhelming the Sleazy's laptop programming and Thighpaulsandra'svintage synthesizer squalls. However, approached as a series of "worksin progress," the album has quite a lot to recommend it. "The Gimp(Sometimes)" is a spooked, melancholic lament by Balance, set againstan eerie backdrop of distorted synthesizers and scattered percussiveelements. "Sex With Sun Ra (Part 1 - Saturnalia)" is the best song onthe album, Balance narrating an erotic fantasy partly based on Sun Ra's"black folks in space" prophecies as explicated in John Coney's film Space is the Place:"He dreamt of color music and the machines that make it possible/Hetook me for a ride on a space ship powered by natural music." The musicbears no resemblance to the cosmic free jazz of Sun Ra, veering closerto Musick to Play in the Dark-era Coil: gurgling synthscapeswith slow, percolating rhythms. "All The Pretty Little Horses" is anunexpected cover of the traditional British folk song made famous (toBrainwashed readers) by Current 93. Coil's version is quite lovely,with expertly played marimba as accompaniment for Balance's bestattempt at crooning. "Teenage Lightning (10th Birthday Version)"resurrects and expands the LSD track, giving it a moreopen-ended, organic feel than the original. "Black Antlers (Where'sYour Child)" ends the disc on a high note, a druggy rave-up full ofqueasy samples and chopped, distended vocal samples. With a littlefinessing, this album has the potential to be one of Coil's finest.
