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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Initially, I was excited to receive this release from Ras Myrhdak, whose lyrically intriguing "Blazer" had been a clever hit in Jamaica last year. A protege of Capleton with a decade of singles and ties to such noteworthy figures as Cutty Ranks and Bobby Digital, Myrhdak seemed long overdue to drop an album's worth of material. Unfortunately, producer Brotherman, eschewing the few genre missteps of Turbulence's Do Good, plays it considerably safe, a frustrating flaw which plagued that singjay's lackluster record. Rootsy one drop reggae suits the Jah praising vocalist, who flexes his malleable vocal range regularly within a single track, but the tracks have a frustrating tendency to blur into one another.
One of the few mention-worthy cuts, "Mankind," takes a page straight out of Damien Marley's playbook, vocally resembling the internationally known star's flow as well as his socially conscious lyrics. The riddim hits harder than the bulk of the album, and Myrhdak would do well to continue to explore that rougher side of the sound on future recordings. On the other side of the spectrum, "Jahneasha," comes closest to what could be a hit, though Myrhdak's romantic yet occasionally nasal delivery is a slightly overdone. Still, the singer's minor limitations don't fully account for why the end result just doesn't make for much than a passable reggae album, which the market has more than enough of.
Although this is only the second Minor 7 Flat 5 album I've heard, I cannot help but think that the problem with this and the aforementioned Turbulence release is the common thread that ties them. In proper reggae tradition, the label essentially serves as a showcase for Brotherman's productions, and in the same way that Lloyd "Bullwackie" Barnes or King Jammy define their imprints, quality control rests with the figurehead. Myrhdak has promise, as his hook-heavy choruses belie, but thanks to Brotherman, nothing here can match or surpass "Blazer."
Noisestar
This is pure primordial dirge. A pulverising military, almost tribal drum rhythm is pounded out of lord knows how many drum kits. (I saw footage of them in Berlin beating on 9 of them). Over the drums is a cochlea-annihilating distorted monster of a riff. This is heavier than a blue whale with a stomach full of lead. Imagine mid-period Melvins recorded in a cave.
The track skips and stutters at various points. This is either some crazy editing or couldn't give a shit warts and all attitude. It is raw, brutal and seriously nasty. The whole wall off sound is then put through a filter and then kicks back in. The occasional vocals are largely incoherrent and have a great 'fuck you' charm to them. Then the last couple of minutes have drums that are so distorted they sound like scud missiles going off in your face. The flip-side is more of the same relentless repetition and ferocious distortion, drawing on the same elements and ideas of the first track much in the same way as Om's mighty Variations On a Theme LP. It all ends in a lockgroove which may have possibly given me tinnitus.
Release date: May 29, 2007
This CD/DVD set captures an extremely special evening for Larsen, one that places them in a perfect visual and musical perspective revealing more an a little about this enigmatic quartet from Torino Italy.
For one night only Larsen assembled their closest musical friends to play to a sold out crowd at the Teatro Colosseo in Torino Italy. The purpose of the performance was to pay tribute to the work of Czech avant garde designer, typographer, founder of Devestil and cultural radicalist Karel Teige and his Abeceda – a 1926 collaboration with poet Vitoslav Nezva which minimalised text down to its basic components establishing a poetic dialogue between text and images.
To "Abeceda" Larsen brings their minimalist beauty and melody with this live performance incorporating music, dance and projections. With Larsen are their close musical friends David Tibet (Current 93), Baby Dee (Current 93 member and acclaimed solo performer), Johann Johannsson (Touch/4AD) The music swells in gentle pulses of soflty stated melody. Emotion clings to each note while glistening shimmers of electonics dance quietly in the mix.
The DVD reminds us of what a rich visual experience Abeceda was and is. As The Wire so perfectly put it in a extensive write up of the evening, David Tibet's performance “Provides a vital link between the music and the visuals... At one point he connects beautifully connects perfectly with the dancer, breathing deeply into the microphone in time with her movements.” Visual projections, created by Bellissimo, portray a woman in a 20's style bathing suit, much like Teige's original work, portraying letters of the alphabet which slowly become obscure by Teige's brilliant typography.
Thanks to Larsen's definitive discipline and their kindred visual and musical collaborators. Abeceda is an event of great subtlety and complexity. It is truly a gift that this performance was so perfectly documented in both an audio and visual format. Where the work of Karel Teige was a tremendous gift for the eyes, Larsen & Friend's Abeceda is a gift for both the eyes and the ears.
Hats off to Bellissimo, the design team responsible for Larsen's distinctive packaging, for putting the finishing touches on a perfect evening and a perfect package.
“My dear friends Fabrizio and Larsen honoured me by asking me to interpret the alphabet for their project ABECEDA in the light of Nezval's verses for Karel Teige. Being neither an admirer of dada, surrealism or the avant-garde, I escaped from them all by taking a train from the seaside town of Hastings where I live, to London, after kissing my cats goodbye. I looked at the blurs of sheep, tree, hedge, sea, pond passing me like living clouds. I looked at each letter of the alphabet, and covered Nezval's text with my hand. I ordered the letter to tell me what it looked like. I disbelieved its answer. Letters always lie. So I peered at the shape of the letter and wrote down my immediate responses. They all make sense to me, but 1,000 people will see 1,000 different faces when they look at the same face. That is calling a vanished face back from behind the hill. “
Love Peace Apocalypse,
David Tibet, Hastings 8.IX.1006
Hey starz,
Been busy lately on working on the Mother’s Day comp, but we got it up for you for free in plenty of time at http://www.silbermedia.com/comps/mom The artists appearing are: Wrong Brothers, Remora, Glissade, Blessed Child Opera, Plumerai, Moral Crayfish, Lauri des Marais, Century of Aeroplanes, Electric Bird Noise, Miss Massive Snowflake, & Origami Galaktika.
hrt
Brian John Mitchell
Hey starz,
Been busy lately on working on the Mother’s Day comp, but we got it up for you for free in plenty of time at http://www.silbermedia.com/comps/mom The artists appearing are: Wrong Brothers, Remora, Glissade, Blessed Child Opera, Plumerai, Moral Crayfish, Lauri des Marais, Century of Aeroplanes, Electric Bird Noise, Miss Massive Snowflake, & Origami Galaktika.
hrt
Brian John Mitchell
Members of Piano Magic, Klima, Trembling Blue Stars, and friends gaze fondly back to the Kraftwerk and Factory Records blueprint of detachment, economy, and alienation. These carefully-weighed compositions will strike a chord for anyone with a penchant for some of the most popular independent music of the early-80s, though such familiarity needn't be a prerequisite.
Cedric Pin and Glen Johnson (both of Piano Magic) accurately self-describe this music as being "calculated at home." They're joined by Dan Matz from Windsor for the Derby on vocals for "Bright Lights & Wandering" where the territory and dynamics of the entire album are established: a machine-like contemplation of the paradoxical human need for both acceptance and individuality. The piece is twice as long as it needs to be but the sound sparkles and the words are as bleak as if their square root were the line "Why is the bedroom so cold? You've turned away on your side." "Broken Robots" starts and ends with all the fizz and throb of something much more current, namely Mr.Quintron from his Bulb period. Cooing vocals are complemented by a spoken passage laying out the inability of graphs and charts to plot a course through love. Doubtless, someone is working on it.
"Substance Fear" crams more references into a few minutes than seems decent. It overcomes the obstacles of a beginning that is a bit too close to New Romantic pop, a wooden and grating line about "the restlessness of Kerouac", and obvious echoes of Pet Shop Boys, to pack a punch. At one point, clear echoes of "Blue Monday" can be heard, and a section all-too-briefly (and probably by accident) recalls Alex Harvey's "Faith Healer" before a rush of spoken narrative and swirling electronics eventually give way to a passage of bass playing that could be Hook, line and sinker.
"The Last Engineer" recalls the political economy of the UK during Factory's heyday, a period which saw the wholesale destruction of the mining and manufacturing industries by Margaret Thatcher's Conservative Party. As Prime Minister she was determined to remove rights and political influence from working-class people by destroying the power of their economic unions. Despite Mrs. Thatcher's mantra of the infallibility of market forces, she dramatically intervened in that market to close mines and import coal at a higher cost. She infamously declared that "there is no such thing as society" and a quarter of a century later her words ring out like a hideous self-fulfilling prophecy. As there has been no future recovery for the communities in question, she, not Manchester, has so much to answer for. Repetitive throbs contrast with the sounds of a telephone ringing and an underground train. Glen Johnson sings "I've felt alone since the '80s/I think it's misunderstood/ They may have shut down the coal mines/But the music was good".
The highlight of We Don't Just Disappear, "Crying's what you need," is a bona fide classic-by-numbers: dreamy bubbling beats a la OMD; a backwash of synth, Angele David-Guillou’s perfectly smooth utterances of gritty realism; a sliver of faux-Augustus Pablo harmonium; and the use of the word "whilst." It is a manifestation of the scientific theory that people keep unresolved memories longer than things which have been concluded. The notion that "there's nothing romantic in being alone" may be debatable, but the track exhibits a stark sense of emotional void, a caring sweetness, and just the right amount of humor and pathos:
"Somebody told me you never got over/The last girl that kissed you, though she was much older/ …She'd lived through The Smiths… and she knew how to kiss……She was in libraries and you were in college/ She stacked up the shelves whilst you racked up your knowledge/ She archived the Greats/ As you drank with your mates..."
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This three way live collaboration (recorded in 2006 in Tokyo) by these titans of electronic abuse focuses on the analog elements of their respective careers. Even Masami Akita dusts off his EMS Synthi for an old school excursion.
In my youth I was a big follower of Masami Akita's work, buying any CD or LP that was reasonably priced and attainable. Hell, I remember drooling over the fabled Merzbox a few years before its release. However, dealing with any artist as dissonant and prolific as Merzbow, burnout is almost inevitable, and that's exactly what happened. I continued reading reviews and so forth, so I was well aware of Masami's shift from analog junk electronics to a Powerbook, and his rediscovery of percussion and drums as becoming part of his work. So upon receiving Electric Dress in the mail I was eager to hear what this new side of him would bring…a bit of disappointment hit me when I saw his contributions: EMS Synthi 'A', handmade instruments and effects. This disappointment quickly dissipated once I slid the disc in, however.
Electric Dress is a live collaboration between the aforementioned Akita, Carlos Giffoni (of the infamous No Fun Fest and Monotract, maning custom synths and analog filters) and the ubiquitous Jim O'Rourke on synths and microphones. Perhaps it's a mellowing with age, but even analog Merzbow seems more restrained and placid than his mid 1990s self. There's still a good deal of distorted bass rumble to be found—but it is mediated by analog oscillators tweaked to sound like chirping birds—and white noise bursts resembling torrents of rain and blowing wind. Throughout the 18+ minute single track the dynamics shift frequently, from full-on harsh noise to quiet, almost ambient passages. Having the three artists working at any given time makes for a deep mix, albeit not an overly harsh one. There are certainly the punishing and shrill moments, however.
The entire feel of this album is definitely analog, and it's a pretty interesting setting to hear these three musicians working without the aid of laptops and samples, and the piece remains an interesting, complex mix throughout that reveals new layers and elements on each listen. And though as I mentioned before Akita was going "old school" on this one, a bit of beats creep in early on in the form of analog synths, coming in like an 808 kick drum. Electric Dress makes for a good addition to a Merz collection, and even a good choice for a neophyte or Giffoni and O'Rourke fans who may not prefer the harsh stuff.
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This is a short, succinct CDR of 5 listed tracks (and a hidden bonus track that, at 12 minutes, comprises about half of the disc's length). The five listed tracks cop the Boredoms' early ADD feel: all spastic sub machinegun drum machine outbursts, random samples and squealing feedback noises. "Bored" and "Friends" have the added charm of a toy store Casio synth plonking along, sometimes even on the demo song. Loops of sampled J-pop vocals are noticeable as well, and the overall feel could induce epileptic fits just as easily as those early Pokemon episodes. The unlisted bonus track is a different beast entirely, bass heavy electronic noise, marinated for a few weeks in reverb and then dragged behind a car for a few days. It's rumbly, it's lo fi, and it's great—the perfect a soundtrack for a mega caffeine drink fueled weekend of old Nintendo games.
An ATP-sponsored reunion of the dormant Aussie post-punk band is a revelation, and this live album shows just how many of the bands you know nicked from the Scientists' legacy. While packaged like a best of compilation, Sedition is actually the document of a May 2006 performance at the All Tomorrow’s Parties festival. It covers their own "best of" material from their nine year career and it can easily function as such because the band still plays as tightly as one who never took any sort of break.
Before I popped this disc in I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew the Scientists were a post-punk era band from Australia, and that was the extent of it. Inside, this release features liner notes from Thurston Moore, Jon Spencer, and Warren Ellis, among others. Listening to Sedition it’s not hard to hear the influence the Scientists’ career had on the likes of Sonic Youth, Pussy Galore/Blues Explosion, and the Bad Seeds.
Not really punk per se, the Scientists were more apt to mesh the dissonant guitar and the middle class ennui of jobs and mundane life ("Set It On Fire," "Burnout") with more traditional blues structures and rhythms. Opener "Swampland" is perhaps the most conventional of all, reminiscent of many (good) post-punk bands: Joy Division meets a little baby bit of surf guitar. Things aren't all conventional, because I’ll be damned if "Leadfoot" and "Revhead" especially aren’t nods to Suicide, with their mechanical bass/drum rhythm sections, rambling stream of consciousness vocals, and feedback laden guitar noise. Things aren't all abrasive either, as "When Fate Deals Its Mortal Blow" and "Blood Red River" conjure up sleazy southern blues elements that were surely copped by Messrs. Cave and Spencer.
Sedition comes in a deluxe moleskin book style cover: respectful packaging which is even suggestive of a career retrospective yet it's hard to believe that recordings contained are from one show. It doesn't even feel like a “live” album, as it acts like a great introduction and overview to The Scientists which makes for a coherent, cohesive listen.
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For those in need of a disc to spin this coming Halloween to scare the children, or simply can't get enough of clanging percussion and synth noise, this may fit the bill. For the rest of us…not so much.
Division One isn't quite sure what it wants to be. Throughout the 9 untitled tracks, Sistrenatus bounces from subgenre to subgenre and never quite falls into one place. The first couple would fit right in as the ambient sound on the latest installment of Saw or Hostel—all heavily reverbed metallic creaks and groans, secure metal doors slamming shut from afar, distant voices in the darkness, and some occasional muffled breathing sounds cutting through—but by the end we're inundated with newsreel and dialog samples, militaristic snare loops and robotic noise tones, which may or may not cause any listener to go on a wild goose chase for someone named Sarah Connor.
The middle elements are a bit less cliché, leaning heavily on analog noise textures, distorted feedback and the occasional shouty indecipherable vocal lines. Add in the occasional bass synth sequence and crashing metal percussion and here's something the Tesco crowd falls head over heels for.
The greatest limitation of this work is that it doesn't do anything different for the overall genre that hasn't already been done. There's nothing inherently wrong with it, it is a very competent work. The problem is that fans of this style of music probably already have a few discs that are along the same lines as Division One. Considering this is a debut album, there’s always time for growth and maturation, so hopefully the next Sistrenatus will stand more on its own, rather than just lurking in the shadows with other pale faces and well worn reverb units.
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This sixth album is another firm step forward for Ectogram. While still firmly rooted in the Krautrock and post-punk spirit that is their hallmark, they keep pushing their albums into new places, challenging themselves and creating a treat for us in the process. It is easy to get lost in this album for hours; the eight songs that make up this album are meticulous in terms of sonic texture and each listening experience is full of new surprises. Not only that but Fluff on a Faraway Hill is fun too.
Klangbad
It is obvious right from the start that this time Ectogram are having more fun than they did on their last album, Electric Deckchair, which was great but hard work to listen to. The eight songs on Fluff are less obtuse: the band sound like they are actually enjoying themselves. The opener "Brink of Water" is like audio candy floss: a shimmering guitar bubbles over a solid rhythm while Ann Matthews' unique voice emerges from the center of the song like smoke through gauze. It is a fantastic start to an album and sets the standard high from the beginning. The next track out-does the first: "Devisor" is based around a spellbinding Ebow riff which drives the song. Again Matthews' vocals float like a ghost into the mix, her performance on this album is wonderful.
The middle of the album sees Ectogram slowing things down, allowing the sounds of their instruments to have more space. The effects are used appropriately, normally such heavy use of phaser (or whatever swooshing effect they're employing) gets irritating very quickly but Matthews and Alan Holmes both tastefully color the guitar sound instead of overpowering it. The album picks up the pace towards the end and finishes off with "Strategy Three" which has one of the cheeriest guitar melodies I have heard since I last listened to the Beach Boys.
I seem to be unable to get sick of Fluff on a Faraway Hill which is no mean feat. Overall, the album is dense enough to make multiple listens rewarding but not so dense as to make it a chore to wade through. Ectogram have outdone themselves this time and I hope they continue to outdo themselves in the future.
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Since 1934, Fuentes has been the premiere record label of Colombia, home to the country’s rich legacy of music. Covering the years from 1960 to 1976, this compilation is instantly likeable and very enjoyable throughout, highlighting some of the best work from the Fuentes vaults.
The music contained herein reflects the wide variety of regional Latin style as well as worldly influences found in Colombian music. Cumbias, salsas, fandangos, and rumbas are well represented, as are Caribbean calypsos, African rhythms, and some elements of American jazz. Percussion is an important element of every song, which keeps the music lively and danceable.
Even if a lot of the songs have an air of familiarity (because of the stylistic tropes they employ), most have something extra that differentiates them from their peers. One of my immediate favorites is "Cumbia En Do Menor" by Lito Barrientos y su Orquesta. Its emphatic rhythm is trance-inducing, an effect embellished by what sounds like a clarinet playing Middle Eastern scales. La Sonora Cienaguera's "La Piojosa" has a pleasantly anxious rhythm, an enticing trumpet melody, and an intriguing keyboard accent. Even Fruko y sus Tesos' "Salsa Na Ma" initially sounds fairly traditional but then fades in an eerie organ after a couple of minutes to disrupt any notions of standardization. American music infiltrates a bit on another track by Fruko's group, bursting into a '60s rock chord progression and vocal harmony before a particularly ferocious drum solo returns it to its Latin roots. The slower, hypnotic "La Pata y el Pato" by Climaco Sarmiento y su Orquesta is one of the rare tracks featuring female singers, and it's clearly one of the album's best.
While some tracks are more unique than others, there's nothing here that deserves to be skipped. Colombia has a magnificent musical heritage, and this compilation is but a tip of the iceberg. Hopefully this will pave the way for greater access to the Fuentes archives in the near future.
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