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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This is the debut full-length album for Whitelodge, a trio ensconced deep in Florida's panhandle, an area known for mosquitoes, extreme humidity and torrential rains, an area recently attacked by a series of forceful hurricanes. These extremes of nature seem to have exerted an influence on Whitelodge's music, moving as it does through seasonal movements: the hazy, psychedelic buzzing of summer insects, the golden autumnal harvest, the skeletal frost of winter; and the rebirth of pastoral springtime.
The lyrics are fraught with references to earth and the elements, and the soundworld of each song is alive with atmospherics to match the poetic imagery. And despite the innocuous magickal temple invoked by the band name, there are deep undercurrents of darkness and unrest lurking in the underbrush. Whitelodge are clearly indebted to that outcropping of English esoteric psychedelia that includes Current 93 and Death In June, but their geographic and generational differences from their progenitors position them in unique territory. Instead of filtering their inspirations through the post-industrial milieu that those earlier bands were working in, Whitelodge utilize more modern reference points like My Bloody Valentine and Godspeed You Black Emperor. They add layers of instrumental and textural sophistication to these elegiac songs of isolation and melancholy, reveling in slowly percolating melodies and layers of drones. The insistent strum of the acoustic guitar, lost in cavernous echo, reminded me of the richly detailed sound of Death In June's But What Ends When the Symbols Shatter. Just to cement the comparison, Whitelodge even manage to incorporate some Ennio Morricone steel guitar belts and the odd trumpet solo on a few tracks. Singer Dustin Gilbert's voice is slow and restrained, and on occasion (as in the spooky "Of Corridors and Time") his vocals are processed and elongated into scary mutations. Occasional passages of cheap vintage electronics and drum machine reminded me of early Pink Dots, as on "Song For Kalyx," a hallucinogenic meditation on lost love. Whitelodge's debut is the sort of record that is so subtle and nuanced, it's likely to be completely lost amidst the overpopulated indie scene, which is regrettable, to say the least.
As I watched Throbbing Gristle perform for the first time in over twodecades, many thoughts rushed through my head. The one which is mostrelevant to this review is that I believe the most popular aggressive,noisy acts who get heralded for their "experimentalism" actuallyexploit the most simple tactics. While the audience on the floor wasthrilled to be there, loving every minute of TG's set from the (false!)start, it was the beats that drove them nuts. People love beats andthey love repetition. They love to sing along when they know the wordsthat are coming up and they love to pound fists into the air and dance.Wolf Eyes' signing to Sub Pop isn't all that strange given they'veperhaps got a lot more commercial potential than other friends/comradessuch as Black Dice and Animal Collective, since they embrace beats tosuch a blistering degree. The disc opens with the brief cacophonousintro "Dead in a Boat," an all-out white noise to the wall hate fest,then launches into their feel good hit of the summer, the pouding andpulsing "Stabbed In the Face." After another short beat-less piece, thegroup come back with "Village Oblivia," another fists in the air dancefest. Another brief track bridges the album to the next full-realizedsong, "Rattlesnake Shake," and this time it's as if Wolf Eyes arescoring a brutally vicious nightmare. The low rumble is like anoversized military aircraft piercing the night, eager to unleashdestruction. At high enough volumes I'm sure the hum is enough to shakewax from the ears. Don't expect to be singing along with Wolf Eyestunes easily, however, as the occasional vocal appearances are putthrough the same junk pile of machines that create the rest of thegritty audio sludge on their records. The album sort of ends with thealmost party jam of "Black Vomit." Here, the full, rich sound of noisescoupled with abrasive vocals easily makes nearly every singlepost-post-post-post industrial "musician" (picture black pants withtons of zippers) look like a pussy. Wolf Eyes have done something manybands have tried to achieve but fell short: make something evil enoughto irritate parents (just as soon as they've finally accepted metal andhip hop) and both dirty and sexy enough for the ultimate release. 
A kaleidoscope of influences, sounds, languages, and dynamics comprisethe rich set of tools available to New York City's Asobi Seksu. Theband finds themselves awash in this clash of intentions with theability to sort through the competitive and contradictory urges todevelop a consonant sound that is more than the sum of its parts.Singer Yuki Chikudate injects each song with a unique tone, at timesdistinctly assertive or adorably dreamy while oscillating betweenEnglish and Japanese in search of the perfect way to express thefeeling of the song. The band emerges from this melting pot ofattitudes as a less oblique My Bloody Valentine, sharing that group'spenchant for vibrant aural fireworks amidst dreamy melodies. Thesoaring stabs of guitar in "Sooner" demonstrate that this similarity isnot just in the name of the song. The band launches off into those jagswhile managing to weave in a delicate clarity in the verses, the band'sown personality taking hold in these calm breaks from the squalls."Stay" is a slow, aching duet between Yuki and guitarist James Hannathat unfolds itself slowly and methodically. It's an intimate moment ontape as they breathlessly coo amidst a milieu of starry, reverb soakedchords. The pristine manner that makes the song fit for a polite slowdance is dashed away as they guitars begin to climb and blur out into afuzzy wash of vivid sound, amplifying the indistinct intensity of theprivate moment before plummeting back into the grips of sensual acuity."I'm Happy But You Don't Like Me" eschews the dramatics of shoegazingfor a more direct synthesis of contemporary indie rock and Japanesepop. The song doesn't fail to snare the ear, turning the languagebarrier into a weapon against itself as they syllabic melodiescontribute greatly to the song's memorability. Hanna takes the leadvocals on "Let Them Wait" and the album closer, "Before We Fall,"managing to hold his own against Chikudate's relentlessly endearingpresence. The pair of songs make a great case for the viability ofAsobi Seksu, another indicator of the band's ability to approach theirmusic from a number of different angles, dexterously employingvariations on their sound, structure, and delivery to create a productthat is never predictable. 
I'm sitting here laughing my ass off at this record. It's 17 minutes,23 tracks in length, completely out of a control, and absolutelyhilarious. I've heard lots of thrash and smash musicians and I enjoy alot of their music, but every record I've heard that is bound anddetermined to rip through thirty songs in under half an hour have acertain attitude that doesn't warrant laughter. Fat Day are a bitdifferent; in between the 20 and 30 second songs on this disc arestrange eight-bit Nintendo sonatas. These little doodles of electronicbuzzery and near-organ origin provide little bits of relief from thedrum-banging, guitar-eating, vocal lacerations that are the rest of thealbum. It is, at times, impossible not to laugh at how silly this allis. Despite the fact that there are five tracks between the openingorgan piece and the second bit of relief on the album, it sounds asthough there is one song playing and it just happens to be riddled withsudden bleats of compositional hyperactivity and vomiting energy. I'mtrying to imagine what this band must look like on stage and all I cansee is the image of a head exploding or a cow being run over by amonster truck. Unf! Unf!isn't a particularly heavy album; there are certainly denser, morerhythmically tight songs out there. Fat Day, however, take that musicalnastiness and transform it into a spurt of energy so outrageous that itcan't be considered anything more than slap-stick. This is massivelyentertaining slap-stick, though. I've listened to this short and sweetrecord about five times in a row now and I haven't gotten sick of it.The honks and squeaks of the organ-like pieces always highlight somekind of insufficiency that reminds me of circus clowns or freak showsand the grating guitar, drum, and voice pieces always rock out in asatisfyingly primal way. I'm not sure how, but some of these tunes havegotten stuck in my head and I find myself half-gyrating in an attemptto reproduce the rhythms and half-melodies on some of the songs. If Ihad the ability to stop smiling and laughing while listening to therecord then I might actually attempt to bark along some of the lyrics,but it's just more fun to sit back and watch the insanity progress allby itself. - 
Don't be fooled by the appearance of New Order nor the word "mixes" inthe title of this record. These are essentially two reinterpretationsof two of New Order's most important songs "Confusion" and "BlueMonday" by fellow Mancunians 808 State. What could easily be correct onthe cover, however, is that these date back to 1988, a time in which808 State was synching their Roland 808, 909 and 303 together, lettingthe machines take center stage. As far as my ears can tell, there areabsolutely no sounds from New Order's recording used in the process,and that's probably a good thing, as the songs have been remixed andremixed and remixed and remixed to the point of violent nausea. 808State's versions to me sound like cover tunes, where Graham Massey andcompany are practicing with equipment or approaches that were new tothem after years of playing rock music as Biting Tongues. There's acouple possible reasons these didn't surface on a widescale levelsixteen years ago: the group might not have been confident enough withthe recordings at the time; New Order's international stardom couldhave demanded much more money than 808 State could afford; the vocalsmight not have been quite what the 12" acid house market demanded (that"yeah" sample in "Blue Monday" and the "Confusion" sample both grate onthe nerves after a few minutes); or there was already a saturatedmarket of New Order remixes kicking around. Now, sixteen years later,the songs are certainly more "vintage" (or as LCD Soundsytem would putit "borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered 80s"). Both versions arepure and blissful, with a bare minimal amount of vocals included. Theybear little resemblance to the original versions, aside fromrecognizable bass lines, and act as a strong precursor to the nextvault release of 808 State on Rephlex, Prebuild, (a collection of the songs which pre-date Newbuild). For people expecting the wailing sax and melodic mastery from albums like Ninety and Ex:el,this 12" will probably be a disappointment, but for those looking forhynotic acid house techno and don't mind New Order will probably find amild amount of joy within the grooves.
K.U.D.O. from Unkle, Kan Takagi of Major Force and Yoshimi P-We of TheBoredoms/OOIOO together make up J.O.Y., the group behind this eccentricnew single on DFA. J.O.Y.'s "Sunplus" is a percussive samba danceexcursion, a wacked-out psychedelic version of the theme song to George of the Jungle.Sharing the brightly-colored, hyperkinetic qualities of J-Pop superstargroup Puffy AmiYumi, J.O.Y. incorporate a dizzying assemblage ofeclectic instrumentation—xylophones, steel drum, synthesized handclapsand a room full of bells and percussion—to achieve their unique sound."Sunplus" would not sound out of place on Yamatsuka Eye'sshort-attention-span DJ Pica Pica Pica mix CD, with its hyperactiveatmosphere and manic rhythms. DFA's remix takes up Side B of this 45RPM single, brilliantly reworking the song into a more jagged,aggressive dance-punk track. By filtering out some of the anarchicclatter of J.O.Y.'s original, Murphy and Goldsworthy streamline thetrack and add some forward momentum, highlighting Yoshimi's punkishvocals and upping the cowbell quotient by several degrees. Togetherwith the earlier EYE Remix of Black Dice's "Endless Happiness" (on theB-Side of the Cone Toaster single), DFA has put out some of the most joyously unclassifiable Japanese experimental pop since Asa Chang & Junray's Song Chang. 
Pixeltan have been kicking around since 2001, but haven't been heardfrom much, releasing only a self-produced EP and a track on the epochalTroubleman Mix Tape.Pixeltan members include Devin Flynn and Mika Yonata of PlateTectonics, and Hisham Bharoocha, ex-drummer for Black Dice. This new 33RPM disc of white-label DJ vinyl should rectify the group's obscurity,as it's being released by the eternally name-checked DFA label. It's atypical DFA production through-and-through, pushing a relentlessadrenaline-pumped 4/4 snarescape with thick, throbbing basslines andsubsonic booty blasts. "Get Up/Say What (DFA Remix)" is the mainattraction, a nine-minute marriage of two Pixeltan tracks given thedeath disco once-over by James Murphy and Tim Goldsworthy. Mika's sassygrowls and shrieks are echoplexed into dubby oblivion, nodding in thedirection of The Slits, but as she continues to yell "So what?"repeatedly, she ends up closer to "Me and My Rhythm Box" from cult filmLiquid Sky. And here as always, the DFA team adds a druggy vibeto the proceedings, filling the track out with pupil-dilating whacks ofsynth and fluttering, lightheaded MDMA shudders. Side B is filled outwith the original version of "Get Up" and another track called "That'sthe Way I Like It," both fun, but lacking the sexy urban hedonism ofSide A. With "Get Up/Say What," however, Pixeltan and DFA have createdanother breathless dancefloor-filler, destined to be the set-endingtrack at every Williamsburg loft party for at least the next two weeks. 
Focus and cocentration are absolutely essential to this album. Withoutthose two features, all of these songs would've probably turned outlike the ones on Aftermathematics Instrumental.The ingredients on this record are simple, though: heavy and wavingbass melodies, steady percussion, and a just hint of the sexual. Anoverwhelming sense of dark, seductive power hovers over Version 2 Versionthe instant the bass drops on "Dystopia" and it only intensifies until"Night City" and "System Malfunction" close the record up. The music isfairly inconspicuous so far as dub is concerned, but the atmoshphericsthat Laswell and company manage to pull out of their instruments areastounding. "Babylon Site" not only struts along as though it wereuntouchable and utterly of another world, it also rings and pulses withthe soul of ease and promiscuity. The sexual references can't behelped; I half expect that this album was recorded in a dark and dampbasement to the images of lusty encounter. Hi-hats chirp and stutterwith the silk playing of electric guitars and classic dub sounds.There's enough reverb and echo on most of these songs to send any soberlistener into a realm of cosmic light shows and slow motion existence.The gritty sounds that are coaxed out of the instruments and the almosttoo pure stream of sound effects make an otherwise typical dub recordsound exceptional. There's nothing but pure, throbbing tones on thisrecord with occaisional use of a bouncing keyboard or a guitar moaningitself to death. The sparse use of tabla rhythms and vocal effects helpkeep the mood of the record unpredictable. When "Night City" and itsspazzed out rhythm section blew up at the end of "Babylon Site," I wasthoroughly surprised. I'm not talking about a huge jump stylistically,but Laswell tweaked the mood just enough to keep me listening throughthe record. The sci-fi closer is a gem of groove production. "SystemMalfunction" rolls along like a steam train powered by the heart andsoul of reggae and hot summer nights. Instead of trying to do athousand things at once and make every song significantly differentfrom one another, Laswell has kept things tight and uniform. The resultis an album a hundred times better than the last one I listened to fromhim.
Despite the increasingly dangerous political climate in today's world,especially George W. Bush's America, the majority of major label andunderground acts seem almost universally mired down in creatingmeaningless yet pleasant noise with a groovy beat, catchy vocal hook,or some other attractive characteristic. Altogether rejecting thepowerful crosscultural tradition of music as social megaphone, musichas turned its back on not only history but the present and future aswell. With only a select few independent acts expressing their outrageor concern via creative means, those of us yearning for something witha message often have to look far and wide for something even remotelyaddressing national/international crises and controversies that trulymatter. While 'Heavy Heavy Monster Dub' may not be the most potent cryfor social change, that it takes time even referring to the issues is awelcome break from ignorance and apathy. Musically, the group's"positive" sound is refreshing and forward-thinking, with livedowntempo breaks and programmed loops acting as backbeat to instrumentsboth traditional and synthesized. Adorning their tracks with thoughtfuland provocative names ("Evil Empire" and "Preempive Dub", to name afew) in the footsteps of experimental peers Muslimgauze or Richard H.Kirk, Austrian dub lovers Dubblestandart try to use their time toconvey alternative ideas and promote futher exploration andinvestigation on the part of the listener. "Streets Of Dub" opens thealbum with an Eastern introduction that quickly meets with ahead-nodding rhythm, funky bass guitar line, and carefully placedvocals from Camel. The title track benefits from contributions from dublegends Sly & Robbie and Dillinger, balancing time-honored Jamaicanelements with loungey Viennese house beats. Two more remixes of itappear on the album, from Dreadzone and Nick Manasseh respectively,each one pulling their favorite parts together to create two vastlydifferent versions. Mikey Dread and Sonic Colin lend their voices tothe funky "Dub Is The Roots," though the Mad Professor mix sounds farmore bright and crisp for some reason. Keith LeBlanc's mix of"Terrorists & Inhalers" is more orthodox than most of the cutshere, as is to be expected from this On-U Sound and Tack>>Headveteran, though it still benefits from a few sonic twists and tweaks.Camel reappears towards the end, contributing cautionary vocals to"Watch The Future", an atmospheric delectation with an infectious beatand uplifting melodies and flourishes. Arguably the best new dub albumthat has come across my desk this year, those of you on the proper"wavelength" or who still haven't ventured beyond The Bug or, dare Isay, Bob Marley should seek this one out.
The Dutch collective known for their anarchist/punk-based, communal, and musical style mishmoshing tendencies blast out a powerful two-LP/CD set of all new material. Engineered once again by Steve Albini in Chicago, Turn could easily be the strongest album of the year. In the three years since their last full-length recording, Dizzy Spells, the Ex have kept busy touring places on this planet most people would be afraid to go, making a few ATP appearances, collaborating on more In the Fishtank recordings, and working in various combinations on other peoples records.
The message on Turn is loud (ear bleedingly loud) and clear. From the first minute, main vocalist GW Sok shouts about how the need for artists, scientists, and humanitarians is much more important than weapons of mass destruction and wars. (And I'm pretty sure that "The shrub who took himself for a park" is most likely mister "Bush" who mistakenly thinks he represents the world.) Each song is executed with a relentless pounding of guitars and drums and the messages are stories and reflections about greed and consumption, unrest, and even the Pie-in-the-face gang. It's a clear example that music which calls for social awareness and/or change is much more effective when made with such an unavoidable vigor and not by some timid hippie with acoustic guitar. The angular guitars, in-your-face drums, rock cello, and punk vocals are flawless, like a well-slicked machine, perfected through numerous live performances. After a surprising 25 years of existence, The Ex have no signs of becoming stale, tame, or rusty; challenging themselves to bring completely new ideas into the mix. One of my favorite songs is an aural souvenir from their travels to Ethiopia. "Huriyet," a powerful song about the liberation of the Erythreans, features drummer Katherina on the main vocals as most of the rest of the band clap and respond. Although I don't have a cheat-sheet to decode the lyrics, it is quite a moving experience, as the feeling is seemingly not about despair, but about the ability for people to overcome (from a remarkable place known for its Christian and Muslim populations living side by side in peace for centuries). The accompanying booklet includes lyrics and a bunch of great photos including pictures from Africa, animals, and, of course, a pie in the face. The Ex needs to be experienced and nobody has ever told me they were let down by their intense live show. For those who can't and missed the Eye special, it's highly recommended to go back and check it out agian.
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We need another forced dance music sub-genre like we need more ironicmullets. Rephlex's press for this compilation talks valiantly about howit's just the music and not the labels to which we should be payingattention, but then it goes and hypes this new style dance music hybridcalled "Grime". Grime to me would indicate a real layer of dirt,menace, or sonic or thematic depravity, but none of that is to be foundin these polished dancefloor stompers that bridge the artificial gapsbetween electro, drum n bass, garage and just about every other clubmusic popular in the last five years. The fact that some of this stufflike MarkOne's "Raindance" is pretty catchy as far as club music goesis overshadowed by the presentation and the conceit that this is a newscene and new sound to be gobbled up before it's past its prime. Imean, isn't that the general modus operandi of nearly all dance music?Every innovation and genre splice is just a way to keep peoplelistening to what are otherwise thousands of tons of vinyl that isproduced with a strict formula in mind. Grimeis most certainly meant for the dancefloor as it lacks the variationand depth of contemporary electronic listening music. The patterns andrepetition are designed to make people move, and move they will untilenough records within this tempo range with these kinds of trademarkscome out. After that, we'll get a new bin in the DJ stores for"Post-Grime" or something. The problem with this record to me is thatit purports to pioneer something, but there's nothing here that wouldsound fresh to anyone but the most ardent genre-hound. It's music madefor a select audience, and in that I'm sure it succeeds as theproducers here prove they have plenty of chops for creating bouncybreakbeats and thumping bass. However, I find it unlikely that Grimewill interest anyone outside of the stuffy world of snotty DJ circlesand trendy club kids. It certainly didn't do much for me. 
