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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In 1967, master of bubblegum Joey Levine had started writing with Artie ('Under The Boardwalk') and Kris Resnick, a collaboration that was to produce practically every song in the bubblegum genre. But first, in the spirit of the age, they produced their masterwork: "Id Music" by The Third Rail. An orchestral psychedelic adventure into denunciation of the advertising fuelled culture of 1960's America.
One of the most pointed barbs, 'Run, Run, Run' was--incredibly--a hit single. Known by everyone as a highlight of Lenny Kaye's seminal "Nuggets" album, it leads off this re-done and intensified Revola classic of softpop/psychedelia. 'Run...' was the sound of superpop advertising jingles biting the hand that fed them.
This release features the full album and single mixes as well as the impossibly rare follow up singles which just got more and more wicked, though in theory, still impossibly commercial! This is one of the most unusual protest records of the 1960's, attacking the enemy from the inside with it's own weapons....and doing it better! It is in addition also a beautiful sounding record to boot, with extensive liner notes by Dawn Eden and Joey Levine.
Ordering information can be found here: http://www.cherryred.co.uk/revola/artists/thirdrail.htm
Complete tracklisting is as follows:
Run Run Run
The Ballard Of General Humpty
Is Mr Peters Coming
Swinger
Jack Rabbit
Boppa Do Down Down
From A Parachute
Invisisble man
No Return
Dream Street
Overdose Of Love
She Ain’t No Choir Girl
It’s Time To Say Goodbye
The Shape Of Things To Come
Boppa Do Down Down (Single Version)
No Return (Single Version)
Invisible Man (Single Version)
Run Run Run (Single Version)
Rjyan Kidwell is going on ten years of musical output and his music is growing accordingly. Of his most recent endeavors, Sketchi is his most immediately mature work, abandoning what might be called his more adolescent tendencies in all places except the artwork that accompanies the record. Don't be fooled by the "Twin Towers" cover, Cex's newest is one of his most sober releases to date.
Temporary Residence
Taking Cex seriously is, in some ways, a difficult thing to do. His records are notoriously scattershot, spanning genres and attitudes without any respect for notions of continuity or artistic integrity. In a way this is half of his appeal; an artist willing to disregard any sense of expectation deserves a lot of respect, even if that artist fails to reach whatever goals they'd laid out for themselves. Given his tendency to act and record spastically, Sketchi comes as a massive surprise. It's incredibly low key, completely devoid of vocals, and carries a moodiness with it that speaks of a wide and reflective attitude not normally afforded to Kidwell's work. "Damon Kvols" kicks the album off with a statement of intent. It is over ten minutes long, is dominated by an almost jazzy rhythm track, and bounces atmospheric effects and vague melodies as though they were simple playthings. Kidwell's compositions are simple, almost minimal at times, and develop in slow motion as various effects and unusual samples intertwine with each other like lovers trapped in a world that progresses at half the normal speed. This is not a snap-of-the-finger, breakneck-speed record: it's calculated and willing to let its colors show at whatever pace is necessary.
It's hard to describe what much of the record sounds like because it is both varied and consistent. The predominance of strong rhythms sits most centrally in my mind when I think of its main constituents, but the unusual use of washed-out synthetic sounds and unpredictable, noisy samples carries the album from beginning to end. "Goodby Says" is an excellent example of the rest of the record. It proceeds at a medium pace, teetering back and forth with a lumbering, tribal drum track and cascading electronics that seem to emerge organically from a background of percolating submarine sounds. It doesn't catch my attention as one of the best songs on the album because of any spontaneity, it is the uneasy quavering of the piece that sits so firmly in my mind. Though it is a persistent song, a sense of dread and unease rests just below its surface. The music is double-sided in this way: there is the immediate reaction I have to the grooves and sounds set out by Kidwell and then a secondary reaction resulting from what the music suggests beyond the immediacy of its components.
This isn't to say that Cex's music isn't fun anymore, that he's just suddenly grown up and become a "serious" musician, whatever that means. Elements of what fully appears on Sketchi have been around since Kidwell started releasing his music for mass consumption and despite much of the album proceeding at a relaxed pace, there are tunes that rock out in a certain sense. "Or Egon Ridge" begins with a crashing line of cymbals and sharp drums more abrasive than much of anything else on the record. This kind of introduction sets the pace for the rest of the song, which bashes away at various volumes and with varying degrees of emphasis on the rhythm. Kidwell moves deftly between his electronic washes and the more definite elements of his songs, letting the two work together instead of contrasting them persistently throughout the record. "Suffocating Champion," however, almost entirely drops the drums from the mix. The result is a deep foreboding, an unsettled mood that feels like the prelude to a horrible event. "God Blessing" sounds hopeful, though, and serves as the resolve of the entire album. It, too, is beat-less and focuses on Kidwell's manipulation of various textures and interweaving samples. Given the nature of the rest of Sketchi, it's a surprising and beautiful ending. Sketchi is limited to 1,000 copies and once word spreads around about how unbelievably good it is, those copies will likely go away quite quickly.
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"Dungtitled (in A major)" seems an irreverent title, but announces sonically Brian McBride's and Adam Wiltzie's most doggedly serious recording to date. Compared to The Tired Sounds of... the music on And Their Refinement of the Decline is more direct, relying less on minutiae and emphasizing the power of their music as cleansing and consumptive.
Kranky
Stars of the Lid have not changed their approach radically. Their music is the same patient and haunting event it has been since Music for Nitrous Oxide was released over ten years ago. It would be tempting to say their music has become more sophisticated or careful, but neither seems absolutely true in the sense that the band has stayed true to an ambiguous ethos marked by careful progression and an emphasis on the subtle. If anything, they have provided different perspectives on the same idea, continually extracting new sounds and points of view from that constant and familiar ethos. With that in mind Stars of the Lid begin their new record on an austere note, the tone of the record sounding immediately funeral. The timbre of their chosen instruments is wooden and deeply resonant, sounding like the announcement of some grave event. The mood doesn't last long, however, as the music evolves into a less severe progression of long, almost royal horn performances and keyboard drones. It's as though the band is passing from the atmospheric tendencies and dark themes of past albums and into new territory, but without eschewing that important facet of their tenor. More simply, Stars of the Lid appear to be thinking about their own sound more than ever and, instead of radical change, they've opted to shift the focus of their music as carefully and slowly as the chords of their songs change over time.
Typically the music could be called meditative: the effect their music elicits is calming and often hypnotic. To focus on that aspect disproportionately would deny the immediacy and power of their slowly and softly evolving sounds, though, and would miss part of what makes the music so beautiful. In turns the songs on this album ask the listener to either relax and be submerged into the loud, deep tones of the horns, strings, and voices or to sit up and pay attention. In the latter case it isn't so much that the music asks anything, it outright demands and urges an immediate response, as on "Articulate Silences Part 2." The development of the song lends itself to the shock of introduction, of unexpected new qualities. I know Stars of the Lid are often referred to as soporific, but casual listening to this record does not stay casual for long. Even as many of the arrangements develop in simple wave-like forms, the addition or subtraction of elements in each waves reveals new layers that further the involvement of the audience. This has, to some extent, always been true of their music: it never seems entirely appropriate to treat their music passively. This record seems more firm, however, more wholly unified in its purpose and performance.
The first disc ends with a song called "A Meaningful Moment Through A Meaning(Less) Process." After nearly one hour of music, this particular piece comes as a surprise both in title and in essence. The piano that leads the song into its brief duration stands out among the various solo instruments that populate the first disc. It is bright, repetitive, obviously treated, and absolutely distinct from the other aspects of the song. The emotional impact it leaves is stupendous, which brings me to the title itself. I'm not sure how reflective it is supposed to be of the band or the way they think of their music; after all, they have included a piece called "That Finger On Your Temple Is the Barrel of My Raygun" on this album, on the same disc that ends with "December Hunting for Vegetarian Fuckface." The title speaks to something concerning this band's music that goes beyond the silliness they might've afforded themselves with names this time around. Stars of the Lid tug at the heart strings more so than they stimulate some academic approach to minimal music or experimental composition. Each note, each aspect of their music from the kinds of instruments they use to the decisions they make concerning arrangement and mixing, somehow draws powerful responses out of me, though any of the single notes they produce or even whole phrases alone do not necessarily lead me beyond those very notes, seemingly empty of content. Their talent for drawing human qualities of what might be termed essentially un-human processes is impressive, both for its impact and for the consistency of that fact. That spilling over of emotional content requires the listener, though: this is not background music, it's far more exciting than that.
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The tracks are heavily influenced by 'Western' popular music of the time, from the swinging '60s to Rock 'n Roll to Funk, but throughout, is the distinct South Asian musical influence—whether it's the vocals of the Indian Elvis Kishore Kumar or the unmistakable sounds of those Bollywood orchestral violin pieces. What makes this compilation so special is that it echeos an attitude and style of Indian cinema and popular culture that is just not found in today's Bollywood. This is Bollywood filmi, hip thrusting, breast pulsating at its best. In fact I was surprised at just how funky Bollywood music was during this era.
This compilation also truly showcases the very far-reaching global musical influences of Bollywood film music, something which the industry still appears to try to do today but without the same affect. Influences from various countries find their way into each track while tunes from here continue to have effects on current music. There's a decidedly fantastic Russian influence in Lata Mangeshkar & Manna Dey's "1956, 1957, 1958" from the film Anari while the compilation's opener, "Mera Naam Hai Shabnam," is a fine tongue-in-check naughty track that's been used recently in blackMahal's fabulous "Save The Flavour." The cross-culturalization is wonderful and inspiring, as I'm more curious now to watch these films if only to help place the countries!
For anyone who has spent any serious amount of time listening to the leftfield of electronica over the past three or four years, it's hard to imagine someone reinventing the proverbial wheel. I know the more I listen to new and "underground" electronica, the more I keep hearing the same things over and over. Phat beats make for a great 12" or live set but an album needs more. Nebulo gives a lot more. On Kolia, through atmospherics and melody, Nebulo has made the best electronica album I've heard since Ellen Allien's Berlinette.
Hymen
My first chance to explore this album was commuting to work, faring 5:00 rush hour traffic on the highway in a snow storm. I got blown away by how the first four songs worked as a perfect soundtrack to the snowy evening. As the highway winded down behind the main road of my hometown, snow is flying lightly through the air, swirling golden in the headlights of the cars in my rearview mirror and street lamps breaking through the line of buildngs between the highway and the town. Temporal and delicate spider webs float above the pavement, get briefly illuminated, then crushed and dispersed just as quickly under the wheels of traffic.
The opener, "Ant," skitters and plays along with this frail, winter beauty. The melodies, chopped and cut synthesizer strings and high pitched whines of feedback, wind around the rhythms the way traffic weaves in an out of itself, all the while, weaving and cutting a fine lace of fresh snow. "Automna" moves into much the same head space, a delicate air, heavy eith beats, pounding, chopped and syncopated. A toy-piano-like melody is countered with harsh orchestra samples and well controlled feedback. It raises my heartbeat, in joyous, romantic tension. The next two tracks flow through the same space, countering delicate, alien melodies with unexpected and dynamic rhythms. "Darkopale" darkly closes the opening passage. It is slow moving, and eery. Reminiscent of Datachi’s work.
Kolia lulls a bit after this exciting opening. The following songs, "Wen" and "Reverse," make a clear cut in the album's flow, like a change to the next movement of a symphony. "Wen," the longest song on the disc at almost seven minutes is just a little too long winded. It's the least dynamic piece, as well as the mellowest. "Reverse," a two-minute ambient interlude, feels like a little too much after "Wen," but a rest after the tension and release of the opening puts me in a place to think about how powerful and beautiful what was just experienced.
The pace of the latter half of the album isn't quite as intense as the opening, but wanders back and forth between dynamic rhythm-driven tracks and ambient passages. "Klik Me," "Nebula," "Siapese," and "Nokta" are less visceral and more heady than the first four tracks. The closing tracks feel more like exercises in cinematic tension than just iPod-oriented ear candy. As emotionally gripping as the opening tracks are, the ending of the CD shows Nebulo as a true composer, not just some jerk with a laptop and a lot of free time. He caught me right off with some flash and showy tricks, just enought to get me to stick around for the second half to really see what he's capable of.
The two remixes at the end work well in the flow of the album. Of the two, Ginormous' remix of "Darkopale" is a beautiful rendering, capturing all the beauty and redirecting the energy and tension tino a cliffhanger end for the disc.
I appreciate the way Nebulo balances Kolia into three solid movements. The strength and breadth of style and composition will surely make this disc hold up over time. Kolia is tense and dynamic, but not uni-directionally, there's release and victory. Any of these songs could be used for a film soundtrack but this album is lushly layered and dynamic. It creates images and ideas in my head rather than just allusions to some veiled nostalgia, not just to be an edgy backdrop for an automible or life insurance commercial.
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After Unai's substandard A Love Moderne made for an inauspicious resurrection for Force Tracks, this full-length from a netlabel favorite picks up the gauntlet previously held by Dub Taylor and M.R.I. Still, it isn't quite enough to bolster the once unassailable tech-house imprint.
Drei Farben House's Michael Siegle has some big shoes to fill releasing his debut album with a label known for producing some of the vanguard acts of minimal house's early naughties heyday. The deep and abstractly funky sound that Force Tracks made its name on has become less relevant since its tragic disappearance, though its influence can still be heard in the clubs today. The faction of electronic music fans still very much enamored of those dubby days will likely find something to enjoy on Any Kind Of Feeling, as several of them have likely discovered the artist’s Fashion and Stadtarchiv, two impressive MP3-only releases from the respected Corporate Identity netlabel. Based on that material, this proper debut album offers little in the way of surprises, though plenty of satisfying grooves.
After the chilled out introduction "Humidity," a filtered rhythm initiates "Unprivate" before its bare bones beat makes way for a bouncy bass pattern and snippets of Luomo-esque male vocal. Whereas labelmate Unai's voice came across as strained and paper-thin, Siegle's has the intentionally disinterested inflection of some of the more subdued characters of the new wave generation. Taking that into consideration, Drei Farben House fits far better within the Force Tracks legacy. In fact, the first handful of tunes seems almost dated, only somewhat problematic given the aforementioned market. Fortunately, "It Matters To Me" breaks this trend and offers a significant progressive push towards the dancefloor, with bold stabs and a jacking almost authentic bassline. Here, Siegle finally reveals a rare lyrical song instead of a track, and the results are more than sufficient due to a desirable apathetic delivery and foreign inflection.
Also released as a vinyl-only single, instrumental "Close Enough" flaunts an affinity for house music’s roots with its shimmering disco flourishes and evolving melodies. "Collection for Thierry" and "Rain Cycling" dabble in carefree synthpop, with Siegle uncharacteristically emoting like some 80s frontman stunted somewhat by the fact that he’s working with such a limited and limiting loop-based palette. "So Familiar" closes out this album ecstatically, channeling euphoric druggy highs in its synthetic depths. The swirling pad that serves as its base eventually gives way for another appropriately distant and brief vocal, recalling countless nights spent sweating away all the pressures of the real world. While neither life-changing nor revolutionary, Any Kind Of Feeling comprises passable tunes for house heads and the lounge set, making it inessential yet nonetheless diverting.
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Despite (or perhaps because of) a 25 year long career playing with Einstürzende Neubauten, Mania D and Malaria! as well as running a successful record label, she has never put out her own album. I Put a Record On is a far cry from her previous work with the other groups: it captures the modern Berlin's new slick, chic culture as opposed to the decay and geographical isolation that gave birth to the Neue Deutsche Welle.
Monika Enterprise
I was expecting I Put a Record On to be more upbeat and clubby, instead Gut has gone for a more laid back approach and released an album that Portishead might make if they were Berliners. I get the feeling that Gut was aiming to create an album that could be used to soothe ringing ears after a hard night out. The beats are simple: strong enough to get a body moving in sync but soft enough to prevent full on dancing. The pulse of Berlin's night life is detectable on the first few songs, especially the terrific track "The Land," but the night quickly swallows up the life as the album gets sleepier and sleepier. Gut's vocals are hushed and nearly always tweaked with effects. At first I thought she was trying to hide her singing but on closer inspection I think the effects are more for smoky ambience. The way the album winds down is relaxing, by the end of the disc I am ready to curl up and sleep (and not out of boredom).
The best songs occur towards the end of the album when Manon P. Duursma, one of Gut's old bandmates from Malaria!, contributes to the music (although little traces of Malaria! are present). "Pleasuretrain" and "The Wheel" are both great tracks, the latter captures the sound and feeling of being in a nightclub under tropical waters that Gut strove to create with her Ocean Club project. The discs that resulted from that project (Members of the Ocean Club) is quite similar in tone to this album. However, instead of the late evening, early night buzz of the Ocean Club, I Put a Record On is a collection of songs for that late night, early morning come-down.
While I Put a Record On is not as innovative or groundbreaking as some of Gut's earlier endeavours, it is still a good record. It does something that many albums do not do and that is capturing the feeling of a city accurately and vividly. Looking at the sleeve and listening to I Put a Record On immediately makes me think of strolling through Mitte on a late summer evening. Maybe it is my soft spot for Berlin coloring my view of this album but I cannot help but be impressed by Gut's elegant and charming songs.
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A stylistic mish-mash of styles, cultures, and sounds, Radio Zumbido create the perfect documentary soundtrack for a film that does not exist. My first thought on a quick sampling of this disc was old Bomb Squad era Public Enemy.
Not there was a real similarity in content or attitude with the Bomb Squad, but the dense fog of samples and loops are nearly impossible to isolate yet coalesce together into a compelling mix. Radio Zumbido is Juan Carlos Barrios (and in this case, "and friends"), who consciously avoided samplers in favor of analog tape loops, keyboards, guitars and percussion (all played by Barrios). It's surely this approach that leads to the human, organic feeling that pervades the album. There was an intent to be "lo-fi" and it works very well.
While in some ways this could be considered "world music" it lacks the distinct cultural exploitation often inherent in that genre. Instead of simply loading up on native instruments and foreign language vocals, the album instead allows those elements of the surrounding culture to seep into the mix while still maintaining its own edge and style. Recorded at various times in Barcelona and Los Angeles, the sounds of the surrounding Latin culture permeate the album, but it never feels insincere. In some ways parallels could be drawn stylistically to Beck's Guero album, but in this case the Latin elements are far more natural and less forced.
The album is all over the board in regard to style and genre, from the massive hip hop drums and wah-wah’ed guitars on the opener "Revuelta" that wouldn't sound out of place on a Beastie Boys release to the minimal 8 bit melodies of "Tun," the disc manages to scurry across a little bit of everything yet still feels like a coherent body of work. In contrast to the more experimental type pieces, "Dolorcito" and "Radio Frontera" feature prominent guitar melodies with an Eagles/Southern California type twang mixed with some dubby percussion loops and effects.
There is a definite theatrical mood to the album, one of a documentary that instead of singling out a culture to study on its differences, it focuses more on the universal qualities that everyone shares, regardless of geography or ethnicity. While one can question if such a documentary could actually exist, at least we have the soundtrack to it.
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Die Stadt's reissue program of early Asmus Tietchens' early releases continues into its ninth iteration, this time focusing on two records from the late 1980s. Both differ greatly in their approach and are not equally compelling to these ears.
The disc is broken up into three long pieces, "Zwingburgen des Hedonismus," originally a one sided LP, is very cinematic, featuring early Fairlight sampling experiments focusing on piano and human voice along with sampled strings and wind instruments. It makes for an interesting experiment when placed in the context of its original release (as sampling technology was gaining a wider market), but beyond that it makes for little more than an interesting piece of soundtrack type music.
"Faircomp 1K" is an unreleased track of synthesized brass and string instruments that follow the same structure as "Zwingburgen des Hedonismus." Using a different pallet of sounds, this track calls to mind Carmine Coppolla's synthesized soundtrack to Apocalypse Now both in its analog electronic instrumentation, and sense of tension and fear present in the track. The composition works better when it is in this context as opposed to the sampled instrumentation in "Zwingburgen…"
The final track (two pieces combined) is 1988's "Bubendey Notturno/Ritual auf der Halde," originally appearing on a split record with Die Form entitled Mysterien Des Hafens. The split piece opens with a more traditional electronic synth sequence that continues to build as heavily reverbed and delayed synth lines weave in and around the mix. The last five minutes or so become extremely rhythmic, mimicking the 808 kick drum pulse of so many generic dance tracks, but here placed alongside a dense collage of synth lines that not clearly identifiable. This work feels very much in the vein of the early industrialists such as SPK and Cabaret Voltaire, and even some of the more obscure practitioners such as Maurizio Bianchi and Esplendor Geometrico.
Admittedly, the first track makes for a more interesting piece of experimentation rather than listening, as it does not really manage to keep the interest over time. The second track fares better, but the disc's real high point is the final track, a rhythmic industrial din in the classic sense.
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The mad man from the Pacific Northwest creates an album based solely on the sound of Native American percussion, with the processed results as wild as the roaring bear that adorns the album's sleeve.
Daniel Menche has been involved in the experimental/noise scene for a number of years and still continues to change his style and approach, resulting in a massive body of work that never comes across as stagnant or dull. My previous exposure to his work has been of his more physical variety, being based on loops of contact mic'd metal percussion run through batteries of effects, and sound sourced from his own body. Hearing that this was a percussion centered album, I was curious as to how this instrument based approach would be, and I must say I'm quite thrilled.
The album opens with what amounts to raw percussion, no effects or anything, just the sound of the drum. The untreated percussion does not last, however, as Menche soon piles on the effects. The drum sounds are manipulated to resemble woodpeckers, gamelan percussion, etc. It is one of those albums that each listen brings a new revelation, a part of the track that wasn't heard the previous time that makes you wonder if that really is just the sound of a drum you're hearing.
You can hear a world of native percussion in Animality. Beyond the obvious Native American sounds, there is Indonesian gamelan, African ritual drums, Japanese Noh sounds, etc. It shows the universal and primitive animal nature of percussion. Although Menche is often associated with the so called "noise" scene, Animality never reaches the ear-shredding harshness associated with that genre, it has so much more depth than just shrill feedback and electronic roars. The sound of percussion from all over the world is on this album, even if it is just Mr. Menche, a drum, and a bank of effects. It's a brilliant disc right down the the excellent packaging: a cardstock folder that the CD "pops up" from upon opening. Both the label and Menche get high praise.
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