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Ex-Jessamine member and Sunn 0))) contributor Dawn Smithson seems happily married to the autumnal nuance of desolation. Despite the title, Smithson's writing is dangerous, capable of unfolding and making the most resolute optimist feel wholly crazed and alone.Some albums can't help but exude loneliness, like they were forged in a model of Jandek's house located somewhere in remotest Nebraska. Joining Smithson is Rex Ritter of Fontanelle and Jessamine fame, Brian Foote of Nudge, David Farrell, and Jussi Brightmore. The majority of each song is encompassed in Smithson's elegant voice and her spirited guitar playing. While each song has a slow pace, her guitar work can sometimes be jumpy and intricate, teasing different rhythms out of the strings with no sign of repetition or design. Now and then a shimmering guitar will appear above hers, electric and ringing with despair in its voice.
I can imagine watching leaves falling over a valley deep in the mountains, lamentation for things that have passed pop up here and there, and ultimately there's no choice but to drive back home and face all the consequences of the past year. There's a quality to her lyrics that make me think of love letters found too late or of correspondence that details how utterly typical life has been lately. The music, however, is far from typical. Its quiet, pulsing rhythm feels a thousand times removed from the more insane guitar work that seems so popular, but it doesn't reference any distinct style that I can pin down and utilize successfully.
Just as Smithson sounds as though she's about to lapse into a Low-esque meditation on how the guitar is to be played, she shifts gears and allows more orchestration into her work, patterning her lyrics around the descending persistence of the album's somehow dire mood. Ever so slightly, like on "A New Day," hope comes shaking out of the background, capitalized by the accelerated pace of the music. Before that hope can really stand out, Smithson sinks it underneath an instrumental passage, leaving no words to place the music and it's dirge-like qualities.
Open the windows and soon the room will smell like the album sounds, the wind coming through the house will feel suspiciously still, and reminiscing will soon become impossible to avoid. To be honest, some of Smithson's lyrics are positive, completely betraying the mood the instruments establish. The cutting power of this record, however, isn't ruined by the contradiction, just strengthened by it. There's an ambivalence to Smithson's music that stands out and supports the feeling that it must've been created by tapping into someone's blood and sucking all the stories out of it. Simultaneously, it's a relaxing, soothing listen and no amount of emotional weight can keep it on the shelf.
There's always a desire to put on the record and simply follow along, pretending as though she is talking directly to me and laying out the past, for better or for worse.
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Although this is the debut full-length release from The Juan MacLean,John MacLean is no newbie to recording, performing, or the musicbusiness and all the drugs, partying, and fun that go along with theterritory. It's easy to see how the Juan MacLean has made anexcellent party record.DFA
For the better part of the 1990s he was involved with Six FingerSatellite, a New England-based Sub Pop rock band who had a decentamount of attention, but even MacLean thought that by 1998 the band hadexhausted themselves out. The important thing to note is that theconnection was made with James Murphy, sound engineer for Six FingerSatellite at the time, who us music nerds now know as an irreplacable partof the DFA while the pop world knows him as the dude who sings in that LCDSoundsystem. Without Murphy and the DFA, MacLean says the Juan wouldn'thave been possible.
Less Than Human takes its namesake from a 10" track released onDFA last year, but the song appears nowhere on therecord. The only previously released track is the killer "Give MeEvery Little Thing," released on a split with the Rapture back in2003. This is clearly the album's strongest track, as its bassand synth riffs are beyond powerfully catchy while the lyrics harkenback to the more funk side of the 1970s disco.
The sci-fi tendencies laid forth by 12" singles like "By the Time I Getto Venus" aren't abandoned, as the album is drenched in a retro-futuristicaudio soup. "Tito's Way," theonly other single track included on the album is decent, with anotherfat and far-from-natural sounding synth line, but it's lacking in thehook to put it on the level of the previously released singles. This is the key thing that separates most of the album tracks from thesingles: the catchy hook.
Unfortunately itseems as if MacLean is more comfortable within the confines of the 12",releasing tracks that stretch between five and ten minutes, while a notable amount of thesongs collected here are a bit light, less developed, and, whenthey're at their most brief (three of the ten tracks don't even reach the three-minute mark) are lacking in importance.
By no means does that makes it a bad record. It just becomesbettersoundtrack for keeping in motion around the house—doing chores andmaking dinner—or providing some great car ride or dance party tunes.The two closing tracks, "Crush the Liberation" and "Dance with Me"illustrate this. The bold hooks from before have been completelyabandoned, the lyrics are lazy, unimpressive, seeminglyeffortless, and repeated ad nauseam, set alongside tracks with tinklingpiano noodling put through echoes and delays. Once again it neversounds bad, however, it simply isn't as attention commanding as TheJuan MacLean is perfectly capable of.
Perhaps the DFA could have taken a hint from the LCD release andincluded a second CD of 12" single tracks to accompany this disc, butafter including them all in the mega 3xCD set DFA Compilation #2, it mightbe a little bit overkill. It wouldn't have been a bad decisionthough.
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Although Phil Knight's intermittant solo albums are much less structured and moreorganic than the work he does with the Legendary Pink Dots, they might answersome questions about his work. Beta-Lactam Ring
LPD fans might be excused for sometimes wondering justwhat the heck Philip Knight does. We know he picked up his"Silverman" moniker in the early '80s and spent his public time onstage with the Pink Dots, fiddling with odd electronic instruments,triggering samples, and sometimes covering his face with reflectivegreasepaint. Bandmates April Iliffe, Graham Whitehead and EdwardKa-Spel tended to pick out the catchy keyboard lines on stage (whenthey weren't simply pre-recorded). What the hell was TheSilverman doing in the studio, anyway? Did he just make funnynoises for the band?
Nature of Illusion is notonly a double-length expose, but—to help answer the "what does hedo" question—it also contains a witty, pretension-shattering diagramof how the album came together: through the auspices of "Old &Unpredictable" and "Slightly Newer" synthesisers, a "RecordingMachine," and...well, "Water" from the Czech Republic. So now weknow.
There are two long tracks on the first CD. One is busier, has alot of unidentifiable sound sources, and features the wordlessululations of Edward Ka-Spel (who is powered by "Wind," if you believethat handy diagram I mentioned before). Leisurely organ dronesmake up the second track, which is a bit like a Pink Floyd freakoutwith three of the band members out for a half-hour tea break. Thefirst 700 copies of Nature of Illusion also include anhour-long single-track bonus disk ("Woodland Calling") which is anEXTREMELY sparse layer of evolving chimes and bell tones. I'mlistening to it as I write this; it slips in and out of my awareness,and every time I notice it again I get a fresh feeling of relaxedpleasure.
I can't describe this music any better than to say that it is abstract,quiet and slow, unobtrusive and hypnotic, and best listened to whenyou've either got something else on your mind or you are trying toreach a state of total concentration. Its ideas and techniquesare subtle. It is beautiful and challenging, even quieter andmore personal than his previous work. I love it, but then I'vealways enjoyed the "hours of ambiance" genre. I hope to find moretime to listen to Nature Of Illusion while staring at the beautifulcover art. It's an album that will mean even more to me after repeatedlistenings.
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After some disappointing live albums Earth returns with an album to quash all doubts as to who is king of the extended riff. However, instead of trying to out-drone the youngsters trying to recreate Earth2 Dylan Carlson has steered his guitar playing away from fuzzed out extended chords to a pared-down country picking.
Dispensing with the overdrive channels on his amps the music of Earth has undergone a radical change. Hex exudes atmosphere. Every song sounds like it could be the soundtrack to the Great Depression. “An Inquest Concerning Teeth” and “Lens of Unrectified Night” showcase the current lineup’s strong points. Adrienne Davies’ drumming is dramatic and minimal, suitably matching the aching mood. Carlson makes great use of banjo and baritone guitar to provide the album with a wide palette of guitar tones. His guitar may be largely distortion free but he still uses a fair few effects, tasteful use of reverb being the most prominent. I did find the tremolo a bit heavy on “Land of Some Order” at first but it does blend into the song well once it gets going.
This album is very reminiscent of Pentastar, both have more traditional song structures and somewhat reasonable paced playing. Hex is a better album though, I find it more refined and interesting to listen to. In fact I think this is the best thing Carlson has done since Earth 2. Hex is slow to get to full tilt but when it does get there it is a humdinger. Carlson’s guitar on “Raiford (The Felon Wind)” is a joy to listen to: here Carlson and Davies seem to have hit it off best, Davies’ drums sound deep and menacing while Carlson’s guitar is slathered in darkly shimmering effects. Lap and pedal steel guitar push this track to Morricone-type vistas.
Combined with a beautiful sleeve this disc is a damn fine release.
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The Campfire Headphase sees the Boards of Canada returning to the long, spacious melodies and funky but not too-heavy rhythm work of Music Has the Right to Children, but with enough of an update to make the album not only welcome, but essential.
There are a few genre-defining artists who make such a strong first impression that they make it hard for themselves to ever release anything new. A handful of acts have helped to shape the course of my listening life over the years, and they all face the problem of figuring out where to take a sound that has been so perfected that any more would be overkill and any change would be blasphemy. Meat Beat Manifesto, Low, Scorn, and Autechre make that short list of acts with such a distinct and influential voice that change comes hard, and is not always welcome. For me, Boards of Canada make the list too, based solely on the strength of their style-defining album Music Has The Right To Children which spawned not just a gaggle of imitators but an entire cottage industry of pastoral melancholy electronica. Their Hi Scores EP flew largely under the radar, but when Matador got a hold of the US release for Music and acts like Radiohead pimped the Boards in interviews, the floodgates were opened and the duo suddenly outgrew their home at Skam and their smallish cult status.
Geogaddi offered more of the Boards trademarked warbly synths and pitched down drum beats, but put a psychedelic, math-fueled spin on the whole thing that was at times just a little too twisted to be fun. This record will easily make my top ten for the year because it is so effective that it makes the rest of the Boards’ discography better just by playing a part. While the artwork is so reminiscent of their most well-known work that it would appear to be an offshoot single from Music Has The Right, The Campfire Headphase takes things perfectly in the only the direction that would have made sense. With a familiar and working sound already established, the album simply plays with some new timbres like guitar that elevate the record without mucking with what has always worked. It’s almost impossible to imagine anyone who enjoyed the Boards’ previous work not loving this record, but there’s enough new and interesting going on that the album may open itself up to an entirely new audience.
The melodies here are sublime and the atmosphere is warm and rustic without being at all natural. The samples of children are thankfully gone, but the tape-reel-slipping backgrounds and institutional filmstrip sound sill abounds, playing off of guitar passages that give this record a depth beyond anything the Boards have managed before. It’s fair to say that I have impossibly high expectations for artists like Boards of Canada, but The Campfire Headphase is as satisfying a trip through acid-washed memory lane as I am probably apt to find this year. - Matthew Jeanes
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The Orchids composed dreary-voiced, indie pop dirges with typical Scottish languor for Sarah Records from 1987 through 1995.This three-disc retrospective anthology is akin to LTM's treatment for Sarah labelmates The Field Mice, though thankfully LTM prudently chose toretain the original cherubic artwork for these three releases. The Orchids' long players (as opposed to their many singles) featured angelicimages, often with Gustav Dore-inspired illustrations laid out imaginatively. The cover art was always striking and often stark (see Lyceum and Unholy Soul for examples, and the earlier collection Epicureanif you can find it). Vocalist James Hackett's singing ranges far from theglories of angels, though it might be called angelic by some. It stands somewhere between a loud whisper and a mumbling chorus boy's diffident chirpings. It reminds me a little of Felt's Lawrence in its register butwithout the regalia and confidence therein.
The strongest of the three discs happens to be the earliest, chronologically. Lyceum + Singles features the most memorable of The Orchids' songs, perhaps because it contains a variety of songs which depart from the band's anesthetized pop compositions. "Caveman" is playful and soaring, with guitar lines almost exploding and running headlong from the chorus; "Walter" channels a more ancient garage rock/'60s feel, though it does introduce saxophone for some added '80s wankiness; listening to "Apologies" will beg the question whether or not your CD carousel decided to skip to The Clean retrospective in the next CDberth since it sounds identical to the Australian band both vocally and melodically (simply listen to the way Hackett enunciates the word "realize" before you tell me I'm wrong); "Yawn" begins with some awkward incantation but then with utter brittleness rises to a balanced and meditative exploration on beauty. Though "Yawn" is an untypically long song for The Orchids. maintaining its ruminations for well over seven minutes, it is also their most successful statement on the album. On a different note, the most tragic song on Lyceum is "Blue Light," whose absolute fragility and frailty could itself break a weak and unwary listener into many tiny pieces of flesh. Hackett's desperately quiveringvocals might even have the ability to shatter a stronger listener. Everyworthwhile Orchids' song appears on Lyceum and it is the most integral ofthe three.
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Unholy Soul + Singles is a more inconsistent album, peppered with hits andmisses, often abutting one another. "Long Drawn Sunday Night" has a lovely and insinuating chorus: quiet but severe in its pronouncement. Yetthe whole tone of that song is undercut by the subsequent "Peaches" and its full-on R+B emulation. The R&B female chorus sounds like something more appropriate to the coeval Terence Trent D'arby single. Presently, the lyrics of "Tropical Fishbowl" are quite topical and fitting, since ithas been raining here for an entire week and when Hackett inquires, "Are you the girl, standing in the rain?," it applies ubiquitously. "Me and theBlack and White Dream" moodily combines a thick and playful bass line withthe typical jangly guitars of the band, while the recognizable "Somethingfor the Longing" musically approaches the anthemic, only to contrast it with lyrically unambitious sentiments: "And we can walk for hours and hours." On second thought, walking for hours and hours might actually beambitious for a band as morose as The Orchids. That could net a good sixmiles (9.66 kilometers).
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Striving for the Lazy Perfection + Singles strives to be more affected than earlierworks. The album starts off a little harder, rougher, and with a splash of violence, though soon lapses into more saccharine dance fusion which leaves you scratching your head instead of cutting a rug. That the word "hate" sneaks up a few times in the almost-growled lyrics of "Obsession No. 1" is an early indicator of this. The title track returns The Orchidsto their earlier sound, albeit laced over bubbly electronic percolations which indicate the band's unavoidable tug towards the contemporary dance scene (The Orchids were not the only indie pop band to suffer this hybrid:The Field Mice, Northern Picture Library, and others all fell victim to what could justifiably be called Primal Scream syndrome). "Searching" ends with an awkward homage to guitar gods, unsurprisingly unappeased by this corny solo (the song's coda) which sounds entirely out of place and loses its place as it trails off into the fade-out of the song. Unfortunate sampling plagues much of Striving. The tendency to intertwinea song with some found sound (usually an esoteric talking piece) is over-featured here, though it often just calls out an already faltering song as truly malignant. "A Living Ken and Barbie" is the prime example.With the song, the band is possibly trying to make some type of ideological statement about vanity but the statement is carried by a jalopy of a vehicle and crashes early on. It doesn't get a whole lot better from there. "Thaumaturgy" is pleasant enough, but it cannot perform the miracles its title suggests. Instead, the song offers to throw a simple life vest to an album (and perhaps a band) which actually needs a lifeboat. Striving closes with the confusing blues jam "The Letter," a song which channels Tom Waits at the end. Somehow, ths inexplicable finale is inexplicably appropriate.
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On the latest two track release as Cathode, Steve Jefferis explores vocals and tries topack as big an electronic journey as possible into the four minutelistening experience as gently as he can. Whichever way thesongs seem to twist Cathode keeps melody at the heart of the music.The title track’s warm digital electronics are structured in acontradictory way—rich and eventful but minimal—which gives thetrack a unique spacey sound without making it over complicated anddully abstract. Without filling songs to the brim with clicks,ticks and emissions, Cathode knows when to take the time to explore thebigger melodic themes and counter melodies. A briskly comfortable beataccented with intermittent percussive clangs underlines a memorablespooky and sad mainsynth line while Caroline Thorp’s breathyand brief vocal only takes second fiddle. Rounding things off is adecidedly wonky andlive electric guitar counter melody which lifts the song into a minutefinalebefore fading back into the main theme.
I wish the second track “Economic Growth”lasted twice as long as it does. Just as the song’s swirl ofsound takes hold,it's all over, dropping me off way too soon and demanding furtherplays. It’s definitely to the song’scredit that it doesn’t even feel like four minutes has passed. Startingof with a simple pulsing wave it grows subtly, step by bleep, evolvinginto asimplistic but lush electronic melody remeniscent of theWeatherall-helmed period of One Dove. The track comes to an end softlyafter aperiod of busy building and overlapping tones which never threaten toswallow the core of the song in the ensuing chaos.
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I have largely looked with unenthuseddisgust at the so-called "folktronica" sound that has played out inrecent years. Growing up with my parents' Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, andWoody Guthrie records provided me with an appreciation for real mastersof the craft, and, comparatively, some moody dipshit's grandiose laptopmeets guitar experiments hardly garners my respect. The only possiblething worse than the typical album in this half-assed subgenre wouldhave to be one that also incorporates that desperately pretty latenineties IDM sound. Sadly, that's just where Gonglot fits in.It's hardly a surprise considering Planet Mu's shocking unwillingness toaltogether abandon stagnant styles, this album of material from 1999through 2005 utilizes unimaginative sputtering rhythms and contrastingpastoral melodies. Haven't we heard this ironic musical conflict enoughover the last decade? Can we finally lay to rest the pairing ofabstract DSP fuckery and geektastic dreamscapes that peaked years ago?Apparently not, according to John Wilson aka Frog Procket, who willfully retreads theworn paths already wandered by legions of unwanted clones of the actualpioneers.
His formulaic sound is often bland and occasionallyunbearable, such as on "Vaedre" where irritant beats increasingly clashwith soft strings until the former drowns out the latter beforeliterally grinding to an all-too-expected halt. Similarly, "Carac Cyls"reminds of the frustrating disappointment that was labelmate VenetianSnares' Huge Chrome Cylinder Box Unfolding. This is not to saythat the album is completely unlistenable, as the hour-long debutcontains intermittently pleasant moments throughout its duration,particularly with the use of mandolin on such tracks as "Follow ErolRaet" and "Plinty."
While it amazes me that a market for this type ofmusic still exists enough to justify the release of a full lengthalbum, Gonglot will probably appease those who haven't completely tired of its aural cliches like I have.
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The Plop label out of Japan has been my favorite discovery of 2005 so far. From what I can tell, FilFla is composing tracks primarily out of fragmented guitar loops, and while this ground has been covered ad infinitum by now, Frame is still an intimate and beautiful record that brings out the promise of computer-aided guitar composition.FilFla is the one-man project of Tokyo-based musician Keiichi Sugimoto (who also records as Fourcolor.) His latest effort, Frame, occasionally combines the microtonal melodies and whipping, looping guitar plucks with punchy programmed beats that help these otherwise amorphous compositions grow into something more defined and structured. His ability to take sparks of imagination and clips of sound and twirls of synth and noise and pull them together into songs is what gives Frame an edge over so many like-minded records that I’ve heard recently.
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Best known for his No Fun festivals and collaborating with anyone hecan get his hands on Carlos Giffoni has finally finished his solo debutLP, Welcome Home. Recorded over three years and across severalcontinents, it’s the sound of electrical things gone against theirdesign to make something more of themselves and given time could wellbe his most pleasant piece of deformed improvisational composing yet.Important Records
Like Giffoni’s No Fun festivals Maya Miller provides the artwork hereand the imagery catches the feel of the album’s shifting fluidstructure as these dripping biological virus-born wasting germs seem tohave been caught mid morph, between birth and messy evolution tofluidic crawling abortions.
While many artists specializing in noise, distortion, cutups andimprovisational chaos will delight in the murk of distant analoguefeedback Giffoni relies on purely digital sounds and the crystal clearviolence of the music is initially more than a little startling.The introductory title track bursts forth as a mash of screeching hornsand mutilated arcade games and most of the music here is born of anintensely in your face digital trash aesthetic. His hard drive is achopping board where the soundtrack of electronic mutilation isexpertly carved into four minute pieces of melted compositionalmadness/beauty.
Surface appreciation doesn’t work with Giffoni’s work (as background noise its chaotic harsh speaker abuse) but up closethere are intricacies and moments of subatomic protein restructuring.Debris like “Trode Events” becomes a concerto for loose wires, bleepsand screeches as it barely manages to stay upright and the laser battleof “Expectations” becomes a warm digital bubblebath. The album’struest and most obvious spark of magic lies in the simpler closingstrains of “Departure Time” and its buzzing railway announcement tones.These stabs of tightly bunched notes phase up against one another andfrom this clash a new bell-like soft melody is born of the harshinteraction of these sounds. Then it all ends unpredictably with asplurge of noise like a puff of magician’s smoke.
This is proof, if needed,that Giffoni needs to spend a bit less of his time collaborating and abit more time at his PC desk.
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Maybe I’m just not in the mood for slow-burning, Neil Young and CrazyHorse-inspired rock and roll. Echo-laden guitar rock just isn’t doingit for me like it used to: a development that probably speaks to thestyle's limited possibilities. Into my newly discovered apathycomes Everything is Fine, a band that takes most of their cues from theGalaxie 500 playbook and runs with it.Tract Records
Lead singer Marc Manning’s plaintive whine, which bares more than apassing resemblance to Dean Wareham, hovers over a bed of softly playeddrums and warm guitar tones. On Ghosts are Knocking on Walls, it isn’tthat Everything is Fine make some sort of tragic misstep, it’s thatthey make hardly any steps at all. In playing it safe, the band reduceswhat could have been an above average effort into something, well,average. Opener “1000 Seconds” seems to mine every slowcore trick inthe book from its distant guitar to Manning’s emotional vocals.Lyrically, themes of rain-drenched leaves, late night drives, and othermetaphors for emotional distance seem to run rampant. This isn’t to sayit’s all bad. The acoustic ballad “Long Night” is pretty and austere,successfully fusing Manning’s world weary lyricism to an affectingsong. I’ll even admit that on tracks like the overly long “Today is theDay” the band makes the song work by virtue of its floor tom shuffleand trebly guitar stabs.
While these are definite bright spots, toooften this album seems to be short changing the potential of Everythingis Fine. Sure, they can do a pretty convincing Galaxie 500, butis that all?
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