Temporary Residence
After a week of spending some time almost every day listening to thisdouble CD set that compiles three previous releases by Icarus, thereare some bits that I've grown to really like quite a lot, but there arealso some bits that I like less with every listen. For example, thethree tracks from the UL-6 EP (originallyreleased on Output Recordings in 2001) that take up a good chunk of thefirst disc are initially quite impressive in their complexity,featuring off-kilter combinations of scattershot breakbeats and soundsthat seem like the final creaks and clanks of dying machinery. Onrepeated listens, that complexity begins to take on an air of aimlessnoodling, especially on the track "UL-6" which could definitely bear abit of shaving down from its 10+ minutes. Disc one is saved, however,by the excellent pair of closing tracks (taken from last year's Soviet Igloo12") which tone down the hyperactive elements and bring in a melodicside that bears some resemblance to Telefon Tel Aviv. The entirety ofdisc two is taken up by the 2002 album Misfits (previouslyavailable on the Not Applicable label), and the six tracks manage tostrike a decent balance between the skittery-clattery bits and themellow-melodic bits. Aside from one lovely track that appears to becalled "Xot Zioks" (sorry, the track listing is really small and in afucked up font), none of it is quite as pleasing to my ears as thosetwo Soviet Igloo tracks from the first disc. I also can't helpbut wonder—considering that the eleven tracks on this release have atotal combined length of around 75 minutes—why did this have to be adouble disc?
After a week of spending some time almost every day listening to thisdouble CD set that compiles three previous releases by Icarus, thereare some bits that I've grown to really like quite a lot, but there arealso some bits that I like less with every listen. For example, thethree tracks from the UL-6 EP (originallyreleased on Output Recordings in 2001) that take up a good chunk of thefirst disc are initially quite impressive in their complexity,featuring off-kilter combinations of scattershot breakbeats and soundsthat seem like the final creaks and clanks of dying machinery. Onrepeated listens, that complexity begins to take on an air of aimlessnoodling, especially on the track "UL-6" which could definitely bear abit of shaving down from its 10+ minutes. Disc one is saved, however,by the excellent pair of closing tracks (taken from last year's Soviet Igloo12") which tone down the hyperactive elements and bring in a melodicside that bears some resemblance to Telefon Tel Aviv. The entirety ofdisc two is taken up by the 2002 album Misfits (previouslyavailable on the Not Applicable label), and the six tracks manage tostrike a decent balance between the skittery-clattery bits and themellow-melodic bits. Aside from one lovely track that appears to becalled "Xot Zioks" (sorry, the track listing is really small and in afucked up font), none of it is quite as pleasing to my ears as thosetwo Soviet Igloo tracks from the first disc. I also can't helpbut wonder—considering that the eleven tracks on this release have atotal combined length of around 75 minutes—why did this have to be adouble disc?samples:
Nothing musical has ever made me dizzy like this before. I don't knowif I was just tired, if it was the music, or maybe a combination of thetwo but it's doing it again now. The walls were wavering and I felt asif I were suffocating, the light that should've been filtering throughthe curtains from outside were swallowed up by the sound. I'm feelingsick. My skin is crawling, I can't keep my eyes focused and my headsimply won't hold up any longer. My skin itches; there's somethingunder my skin and it fucking itches. I look at the clock and it's 3:30in the morning. Ten minutes later I look again and it's 4:30. I'mlosing my mind. I try to stand up but sitting back down seems like thebest idea. There's something crawling up the back of my neck and Ican't quite swat it away. There's lots of them, they're biting, and nowmy eyes are closing. I can't go to sleep but I want to, desperately. Myarms are getting heavy, it's harder to breathe, my shoulders and backare starting to throb and ache. I know there's light in this room but Ican't feel it or see it. I'm getting paranoid, I want to scream butwhen my mouth opens there's no sound. Then it's gone. I can breathe,the sun is rising up over the trees in my backyard and I suddenlyrealize that I'm sitting on the floor and not in a chair at all. I feelmore awake; every sound in the room is amplified a thousand times,however. The hum of my computer is more obvious, the wind outside isdisasterous, when I take a drink of water it is almost deafening. I didnot go to sleep easily last night, the incessant chirping of the birdskept me awake until fatigue pushed me under. Now I'm going back to itlike a little fiend. The lights are out and I'm breathing heavilyagain. 
Tindersticks' first two albums, which appeared in the early 1990s, weremarked by an uncommon emotional rawness and seductive melancholy.Tracks like "A Night In" and "Tiny Tears" with their epicorchestrations and Stuart Staples' brooding croon rank alongside someof the better works of Nick Cave and Scott Walker. The albumssubsequent to their first two eponymous records, like Curtains and Can Our Love,contain occassional moments of that intial brilliance, but overall, theheart-wrenching, visceral gutsiness that once dominated their workbegan to fade. On Waiting for the Moon, their sixth album, itis all but gone. Tindersticks have seemed to lapse into the sameself-satisfied, vanilla territory of chamber pop as radio-friendlybands like Cousteau. The twangy guitar and insipid lyrics on thealbum's opening track, "Until the Morning Comes" set the uninpsiredtone. Even Stuart's voice sounds like a washed-out shadow of what itonce was. "Say Goodbye To the City," despite its crescendo towards theend, ultimately goes nowhere. Tindersticks have reached the point atwhich they've begun to sound as if they've run out of ideas. Despitethe fact that they thump out albums at a regular pace, it seems as ifthey would serve themselves better by taking time to re-evaluate theirdirection (or lack thereof). I was shocked to read that the pressrelease for Waiting for the Moon touted: "more sonicexplorations in sound" and a return to their "experimental" roots,because those statements couldn't be further from the truth. 
For those who are unfamiliar with the Norwegian trio Ulver, here's abit of background for you: They got their start as part of the infamousScandinavian black metal scene, and in the mid-90s released a trilogyof albums based on the darker aspects of Norwegian folklore that areconsidered classics in the genre. They then alienated much of theiroriginal fanbase with a sprawling double CD that placed readings fromWilliam Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell over a variety ofsounds that included dark ambience, jazz and industrial noise.Interviews with the group revealed their strong interest inexperimental and esoteric artists, especially Coil, and subsequentreleases have continued to flit from one style to another, with theonly continuing theme being their movement to embrace electronic toolsas their primary sound source. This interest in technology comes to ahead on their latest project, the retrospective-cum-remix album1993-2003: 1st Decade in the Machines, on which 13 electronic andexperimental artists - including Third Eye Foundation, BogdanRaczynski, Fennesz, Pita, V/Vm and Merzbow - plus Ulver themselves havepulled material from the group's decade of work and in most casesmulched the material into something completely new. Ulver themselvesget things started in fine fashion with "Crack Bug", an excellent piecethat packs heavy doses of sinister atmospheres and boiling chaos into anice and compact three and a half minutes. Too bad Alexander Rishaugdidn't follow a similar "quality over quantity" rule for hiscontribution which follows, as his mixture of skittering glitches andfiltered guitars is already tired by the halfway point of its seeminglyendless eight minutes. Thankfully, the overall quality of the disctends towards to positive side of things, with highlights like"Lyckantropen Remix" from Third Eye Foundation which is a beautiful andsubdued work that combines a clicky backdrop with a quiet and moodymelody, and the orchestral and organic ambience of the epic "I LoveYou, But I Prefer Trondheim (parts 1-4)" by Adam Wiltzie (of Stars ofthe Lid) Vs. Stars Of The Lid. The album's main problem is one ofconsistency and flow, as many of the tracks sound drastically out ofplace next to one another. The cute video game melodies and punchybreakbeats of Bogdan Raczynski's "Bog's Basil & Curry PowderPotatos Recipe" sound especially lost amongst this collection ofgenerally darker and less perky numbers. It's not until thedisc-closing triptych of noise from Jazzkammer, V/Vm and Merzbow that aconsistent vibe is felt, and by that point, it's a bit too late (not tomention annoying for those who don't dig the noise thing). So on atrack-by-track basis, this one gets some high marks, but as a completealbum, it just doesn't work for me. 
After almost becoming another defeat at the hands of the major labels,finally the Jealous Sound release their debut full-length with theirold friends at Better Looking Records. Trust me: if the prevailingrumor about Jive having hold over them is true, it's justificationenough for the increase in darkness and aggression in their overallsound. That's just one area of growth and change brought forth on thisrelease, though, as the band finally delivers on the lofty expectationsbeing thrown about. It seems, actually, that now that Blair Shehan hasa proper band for the project he's settling in just fine to apost-Knapsack indie pop sound. Relentless touring and all that time inrecording limbo gave them the opportunity to create a cohesive and boldgroup of songs. Working with Tim O'Heir, they even found theopportunity to expand their sound, adding touches of keyboards here andthere, as well as some spirited backing vocals that it would be easy tomiss with their live power and Shehan's signature voice. Only onepreviously released song, "Anxious Arms," finds its way on to thealbum, and I honestly prefer the version from their self-titled EP. Allover this release they show the ferocity and keen grasp of melodyaudiences have seen for three years. "Hope For Us" is a call out to thedesperate attention leeches, with a hearty "Kiss me open mouth!" andloud swirled guitars on the chorus. "Naive" and "Does That Make Sense"are three-minute power pop gems, the kind where everyone jumps up anddown at the shows. Slower tempo tracks are sprinkled throughout, withthe six-minute "Recovery Room" showing the most promise, though thedouble-shot of "Guard It Closely" and "For Once in Your Life" with itskeyboard handclaps hold up the middle of the record quite well. One ofthe finest moments, though, is the keyboard drive of "The Fold Out"with its haunting "oohs" and freight train final minute. There's windin their sails, they've lasted this far, and now they're ready to takeover the world. And I'm ready and willing to let them.
Some might call Niblock single minded, in that he always approachescomposition in pretty much the same way. Take a living drone thendouble it, treble it, increase overlayed density until new harmonicovertones appear. What is nice is that he seems to be able to up theante with each release. This is his most mind-altering selection ofdroners yet, and its actually pretty difficult to listen to the wholething without zoning out into the void completely. Over two CDs thereare four different instrumental approaches foregrounded, and it's thedifferent textures of each instrument that characterize each ofNiblock's compositions. Even so, he seems to have more light and shadeand ebb and flow here than in some of his earlier more static tracks.Perhaps the stand out track is "Yam Almost May" with bowed and e-bowedbass drones played by Kaspar T. Toeplitz, sampled and superimposed byNiblock. This builds up ever expanding and enlarging swathes ofharmonic density, sounding more like a deep wind instrument than a bassguitar. The first disc also features heavy baritone sax C tone droneson "Sea Jelly Yellow" and similarly opaque clarinet, bass clarinet andbasset horn lockdown. The second disc is a four-part skullfuck thattakes the dear old piano to corners it rarely visits courtesy of anylon string tied to a single piano string and is seventy minutes longmostly because Niblock is seventy this year. The sound it makes is morelike Glenn Branca's symphonic guitar army than a regular piano, and Ikeep expecting those massive drums to come rolling over the horizon. Ofcourse the drums never come, leaving the massed ecstatic bass tones toboom on in eternal foreplay. The booklet includes photos of Asiansgrowing and making food and some thoughts on Niblock's drones fromGerard Pape, who makes a case for shape shifting 'timbre as space insuspended time.' Featured saxophonist Ulrich Krieger also comments onsome differing technicalities of pieces he's performed in collaborationwith Niblock, and guitar droner Rafael Toral raises some interestingideas about the emotional impact of various Niblock tracks. I findNiblock's music really useful for blocking out everything when I wantto rest and there's a lot of noise going on. It also seems to annoy thehell out of trendy fuckwits, 'that's-not-music' ignoramuses andattention seekers with low attention spans. The blocks seep by soslowly that change is almost imperceptible until some new overtonebrings on a seismic shift. His images of people working might be apt inrespect of monotony, but on another level, if you were to actually chopwood and lug boxes into boats with Niblock on full blast you'd probablyzonk out and fall in the river or accidentally cut off your poor littlehand. Lord let Phill fuck your mind completely!
Arguably nobody has done more for Icelandic music than the Smekkleysa(a.k.a. Bad Taste) label. This double-CD compilation markes the label's100th release after 16 years of operating. Disc one features rare andexclusive music from some of the biggest names and current bands wothchecking out, including the proverbial Bjork and Sigur Ros cuts, alongwith retro freaks Trabant, that other guy from the Sugarcubes, Einar?rn, as well as glitchsters Stilluppsteypa, distorted rockers Minus,and Gunnar (Dr. Gunni) Hj?lmarsson (the label's most visible employeeand cool radio show host), himself. Disc two is a bit of a 'greatesthits' over the years, highlighting the most different stylesimaginable, with a punchy tune from Hei?a's old outfit, Unun; aFrenchy-style accordion and crooner bit from Hlj?msveit Konr??s B?;f-word heavy hip hop from Faculty; goth-metal sounds from Olympia(please don't sing in English); porn-funk from Funkstra?e; plenty ofhardcore and pop; and the single that kicked the label off, "Amm?li,"(Birthday) from Sykurmolarnir (known outside of Iceland as Sugarcubes).Both discs styles flip-flop completely, and I have to admit that Ican't think of one person who could actually like every song here, butit's not terribly unwelcome, as the songs are short, end, and a newsong begins. It's much like listening to a mix tape and not knowingwhat the tracklisting is because there's always that burning curiosityas to "what's next?" A lot of this music is completely unheard ofoutside of the tiny island, despite the number of bands that have infact made their way across the waters in the last few years, sohopefully some of these bands' completists might actually take sometime to listen to what -else- there is out there before letting somehip fashion magazine dictate it.
Because Muslimgauze's Bryn Jones released nearly every second that he recorded in his lifetime, a task which is being continued for him by labels such as Soleilmoon now that he has died, there are many CDs (and double CDs, and triple CDs, and boxsets) which sound very similar to one another and may even have been recorded all in one day, one right after the other. How is this Muslimgauze CD different from all 150+ other Muslimgauze CDs? It isn't, but it is a live recording, which is quite rare in his catalog and is of note simply due to that fact.
The Mountaineers have an intriguing style that seems to blend a downhome, foot tapping folk sing along with modern electro-pop techniques,no doubt a product of the past and present influences of their Welshupbringing. At the heart of their songs lies the jangly acoustic soundsof a guitar that might just be a little ragged, the kind that mightmake an appearance around a campfire after everyone's gotten a littleloose. From there, electronic beeps and slurs are used like garnish,never overpowering the heart of the songs, but working along with it,adding new layers of sound and melody to the already tunefulcompositions. "Self Catering" is a bright track that shows offmultitrack harmonies and taut, precise beats that are found throughoutthe EP. "Clap in Time" begins with a windy horn introduction beforegiving way to a cricket chirp of electronic beeps and the song's body,where the singers ask you to do as the title suggests. It's strange,but the electronic chirps, once again give that feeling of a campfiresing-a-long (and clap-a-long), albeit one that is being experiencedthrough a filter of software and ingenuity. "Chicken" is a raucous,stomping song with the words gushing from the singer's mouth andfollowing down the cascading progression before shooting back up to thetop in a strained yelp. "Radio Cat" is the most adventurous track, asgoes for total programmed abstraction, floating around onelectronically processed vocals and a fuzzy programmed beat. The trackis then manipulated and cut up with sudden, jerky clips. Still, itretains a certain swing that the Mountaineers drop into every track.It's not o sterile that you can't swivel your hips, or maybe walk witha little strut as it plays on your mental soundtrack. "Camped Out"features a gorgeous chorus with an excellent harmony that comes throughlike a slightly out of range radio broadcast from the past. "Your Gunnis Sett on Me" is a light guitar piece of obliquely longing lyrics like"If you're gonna step on me / you gotta give it / you heal thisinjury." Hidden behind this is the unlisted "Fuck You in the Eye," andwhile obviously a throwaway fun track, I wouldn't be surprised to seethe music recycled into something more legitimate in the future. Theway in which the Mountaineers use their conventional instruments,classical piano, guitar, in a manner that is perfectly agreeable totheir use of electronic instruments and production techniques, makesthe EP an alluring listen.
When I was seven years old, I received a rather exciting Christmaspresent, or at least it was exciting to me at that young age. It was aYamaha PSR-6 keyboard, with 99 special effect voices (including theever popular 'Machine Gun' and 'Ocean Wave') and 16 different styles ofbeat! Imagine the possibilities that were available to me, the things Icould do with so many features and options. It was an orchestra in abulky black casing, just awaiting the twitch of my conductor's baton.In reality, my seven-year-old virtuosity was capable only of hitting'Samba' and then goofing around with the funny noises. I am reminded ofthis warm childhood memory because Cut Out's "Interlude with FunMachine" sounds to me like it was put together by a group of seven yearolds with PSR-6's. Had I only known then that I could have recordedmyself (with that little thirty-second memory button?) and put out analbum. It honestly sounds, to my ears, as if every loop, beat, andvoice was drawn from this device and then sprinkled with a littlestudio work. The album's opener, "At It Again" goes on for five minuteswith only five seconds worth of music. "The Power Brokers" is theclosest to breaking from the unfortunate Yamaha sound, with drippyeffects, original beats and a bright organ loop that does not overstayits welcome. The track is relatively and thankfully brief. "Theme FromFun Machine, Part I," however, is an exercise in endurance, clocking inas the longest song on the album, though not by much. It's ten minutesand nineteen seconds of the 'March' beat with a rising and falling tonethat sounds like an advanced slide whistle synthesizer. I just keptthinking to myself, 'What could justify ten minutes of this?' In ashorter context, the ideas that Cut Out had for this piece may haveworked, however throughout the long (long) course of "Fun Machine,"they are repeated until your mind becomes desensitized to the audiowavelengths and you forget you're listening to anything at all. Thefinal song, "Fin" does come across well, with a mournful organ thatdrones on darkly, actually managing to evoke a mood or a feeling ratherthan just looping a tinny beat. Its ending is abrupt, but keeping itshort and knowing when to get out is a virtue that would have improvedthe rest of this disc immensely. "Interlude with Fun Machine" suffersfrom a dearth of ideas, and lacks sufficient style to hide that fact.Did they take the name Cut Out as an allusion to the cut out bin? Ihave a suggestion. If you're of a certain age range, chances are thatyou too received a PSR-6, popular among budding grade school musicians,at some point in your childhood. If it happens to be kicking aroundyour basement somewhere, I suggest you dig it out, dust it off, and hitthe 'demonstration' button. That song was always a lot of fun. It waslong, but at least it had variations. 
