Rykodisc
The clock strikes The Witching Hour with "High Rise," asubtle introductory-esque piece, starting quieter and patientlybuilding to a song full of live drums, guitar, and fat, well-roundedsynth sounds. From there the album pole vaults into one of this year'smost perfect pop anthems, "Destroy Everything You Touch." It's herethat despite Ladytron having absolutely no remarkably original sound,they prove to be able to craft a perfect pop gem. Even though theirsinger sounds like a carbon copy of Tracy from The Primitives, the songhas got an incredible hook, ready for prime time and dangerouslycatchy, staying long after it's gone. Getting past the first two tracksis difficult as Ladytron raised the bar so high so quickly.
They don't drop the listener off in terms of production, as they've donea very professional job maintaining an excellent sense of balance,using a variety of guitar and synth production techniques whileremaining within the bounds of their sound, however, few of the rest ofthe songs are as memorable or actually connect with me on any deeperlevel. "AMTV" is probably one of the bigger mediocrities. Here, thesinger has moved into the German '80s territory, replacing Tracy Tracystylings for a more Gina X feel. The production continues to standtall, however. Even in the slower-paced songs, the most carefuladdention to detail is paid. "Beauty*2" features lush string-likesynths while "The Last One Standing" is accented by pretty chimes overthe fuzzy keyboards and distorted guitar. Without the strong hooks,however, the songs don't have much of a life after they end.
While the album shows a strong evolution for the band in terms ofsound, I would appreciate more time into the art of songcraft, morespecifically: crafting more feverishly catchy songs with better hooksthat resonate long after the songs are over. The success of the firstcouple songs on this record means that Ladytron have cheated obscurity,at least until everybody's sick of playing them on their college radioshows and including them in their mixes, but I think I'll come back tothem for years for my own outlets.
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Faraway Press
The first thirty seconds of this record is alarming, mostly because I wasn't sure that it was Andrew Chalk I was listening to. The rest of the album slowly unfolds in ways that I never imagined Chalk would approach. Once I was finished being surprised, the rest of this record slowly mesmerized me. Its serenity is all-encompassing and natural. Instead of providing a steady wave of sounds all interlaced and humming, Chalk has delivered a series of slowly released guitar tones that fade into and out of each other. The silence that is left on the album and the spaces provided between the sounds is what makes all the difference and is cause enough for excitement. Add the inclusion of very distinct melodies and it becomes clear that Chalk is a composer capable of reinventing his music with grace and style.
While all drone music has a drifting quality to it, The River that Flows Into the Sands is worthy of that description for a different reason. The expanses that normally come to mind when I listen to Chalk are gone on this album and replacing those images is a sense of continuous movement. I can only imagine what the sudden arrival of silence and calm must feel like when astronauts puncture the atmosphere and escape Earth's pull, but the weightlessness that everyone has seen in the movies has been translated into sound by Chalk. I think almost anyone can imagine what that feels like. The bowed instruments and contracting moans seem weightless and inconsequential, floating away into nothing, but leaving a path for other sounds to follow. Like a fountain each drone bubbles up and slowly fades away or evolves into a new drone and each time a sound disappears, there is a new voice there to replace it. Multiple listens will reveal, however, that Chalk really hasn't left that much silence on the record. That illusion is generated via the way Chalk mixes very distinct melodic features with fairly constant tones. As they move about together, a sense of space is opened up that may not actually exist. The effects are as real as possible, though, and there is little room for doubt that this one of the most unique albums in Chalk's discography.
Chalk has also broken The River that Flows... into five distinct parts. This would make sense, normally, if all the pieces were of roughly the same length and if each represented some portion of a theme. But, each of the first four pieces hover around the five to seven minute mark and the final track spreads out over eighteen minutes. Not only has Chalk's music developed a new kind of movement that, up until now, was completely foreign to his work, The River that Flows... also marks the only time I have ever seen Chalk structure an album in a way that suggests each piece is a distinct song meant to be considered as an entity unto itself. Though I'd be hard pressed to listen to any of these by themselves, there is a sense that many of these songs are meant to stand on their own two legs. It is easy to think that this is meant to be an album of thematic proportions because much of the record is melancholy. The droning strings are reminiscient of the slowest and saddest of cello sonatas, but aside from that feature the characteristics that each of the songs share is minimal. Each moves in a different way and each elicits emotional responses in different ways.
Chalk's releases this year stand out. Not just because they are amazing albums of a beauty few can produce, but also because each one marks out a very distinct kind of drone record. The River that Flows into the Sands is perhaps the most distinct of the three. It is Chalk's most charming album and it is easily his most addictive. If nothing else, it is a record that might attract fans who wouldn't normally buy a drone album. It is an addictive hobby, so be prepared to spend plenty of time on websites searching for another fix as good as this one.
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Beggars Banquet
Film School wear their influences on their sleeves. I find it very hardto review this single without mentioning the bands they sound like. “Onand On” is a song heavily influenced by Sonic Youth. It’s a good song,not very original but plenty of passion and the guitars sound great. Idid think it went on a bit too long but then all of a sudden the songsteps up a gear and it finishes off in style. This is followed by “PlusOne” which sounds like Film School were listening to a lot of Pavementthe day they came up with it. It’s fairly dull and generic, soundinglike the default sensitive mode built into most late '90s American rockbands. “February” is more distinctive: it still doesn’t escape thestandard alternative rock mold but it works well. There is a goodproduction on it, the drums and synthesisers are particularly nice.
On and On would have been better without “Plus One” shoved in the middle of two much better songs. I hope the album sticks to the heavier side of Film School’s sound as their gentle side is too flaccid.
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Amorfon
What should be achieved by such a project is a record of improvisations of a greater creative purity than an adult. These children should be significantly less influenced by previous musicians as an older performer as they are newcomers to the realm of music, they don’t know Britney Spears from Stockhausen. The lack of fine motor skills should also lead to interesting outcomes as it adds to the randomness of the situation. That’s what should be but Kindermusik never gets off the ground (I guess you can say it’s got teething problems).
I was quite intrigued before I listened to the album as the sleeve was fantastic. A list of the performers was on the back, their names, photos of them and their instruments. In addition to the expected items such as voice and toys there some more outlandish devices like organ and zitar. After listening to the album I decided that the sleeve was the highlight of this release. The pieces are exactly like photos of babies, largely boring for everyone apart from those who know the baby in question or their parents. This is like some stranger coming up to you and opening up his wallet to show you a picture of his kid except replace “wallet” with “mp3 player” and “picture” with “piece of music.” It’s not that the recordings are awful, they’re better than a lot of improvised performances I’ve seen. There’s just nothing here to relate to or get into.
Kindermusik can be intellectualised until the cows come home (as the compiler Yoshio Machida has done by including a John Cage quote and words like “betweenness” in the liner notes). Is it really improvised music as do the children intend to make music? Or does that make it true improvised music? Or are they actually trying to play something and just can’t? At the end of the day it doesn’t matter because most of it is unremarkable. The only thing of any real note is Hinata Miyazaki’s piece which sees him play a teething ring hooked up to a sampler. The sound of his chewing and sucking is translated into xylophone notes. That’s very little to do with the baby’s performance and more the ingenuity of whoever designed the teething ring. The rest of the tracks are just children gurgling and mashing the buttons on electronic toys. Benjamin Deutsch and Goh Yokota’s efforts are both prime examples of this. It’s impossible to dress this up as anything more than self indulgence by the parents. Bill Hicks said it best: “Your children aren’t special.”
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Load
A preliminary glance at Peace Trials will make anyone turntheir heads and take a second look. The cover is a photo of two nudewomen standing in a flowering garden. The tone is religious, conveyingan impressionistic sense of innocence and growth. The reverse sidefeatures what appears to be two soldiers and the text beneath itreads, "Kites Band for Self-Defense." Titles like "Flag Torn Apart" and"Something About America" convey a double topic: religion and war inAmerica. Once the music begins, however, a wrench in thrown into themachine before it even has a chance to get off the ground.
The lyrics on the album are confusing and misleading. I like songs that have symbolic images in them and I like mystery, too: some songs simply have lyrics that are worth the time it takes to decode them. Forgues, however, writes lyrics that are only concerned with the images words can convey. It would be interesting if all the images led up to a perceivable and satisfying message in the end, but Kites doesn't quite take it that far. There are plenty of violent pictures written out and plenty of accompanying religious images concerned with virgins, Christ (presumably), and dying monuments, but no sum exists. Forget summation in fact, I'm not convinced there's enough info present to even calculate a sum.
On the musical end of the spectrum, there's quite a bit to beexcited about. It sounds as though Forgues is attempting to merge thesemi-acoustic and noise worlds together on Peace Trials.The songs go back and forth between strange, guitar-centered pieces andfree-form noise experiments. Again, Forgues manages to stay awayfrom the pure noise approach and almost always offers up a theme thatguides that homemade electronic fuzziness through its death shrieks. Onthe other hand, merging the songs might have worked better: it would'vebeen much more exciting to hear the guitar work combined with homemade,electronic trickery. As a result, the album can be listened to as apurely sonic experiment for Kites. Perhaps Forgues is taking a stepforward compositionally, but he needs to get his shit together. If hewants to make a definitive statement, he shouldn't write a song called"Baby Fawn with Broken Legs" and then claim that the song was based onstudies concerning crucifixion without qualifying such a claim.
I just might be the loser, however, that isn't getting the joke or the concept or whatever Kites was trying to get at. With such a strong visual package, I was hoping for more from this record and didn't get it. The guitar pieces are pretty and the vocals fit in well with the music (especially on the closing "Peace Trials"), but the album fails to live up to the promise it made with its packaging. I don't think that's too harsh of a criticism, either. Don't show me a cookie and then snatch it away from me the second I hit play or open up the insert. I've been dying for more political noise and all this did was alert me to the fact that it'll probably take some time before we get a political noise album with any incendiary or informed commentary.
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