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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It's been about five years since Andrew Chalk released his last solo effort, Over the Edges.His newest album comes as a vinyl-only release in an edition of 600copies and not only does it look excellent (the sleeve artwork and the little flourishes on the record itself are gorgeous), but it sounds absolutely majestic. Split into two side-long pieces, Fall in the Wake of a Flawless Landscape carries with it the same foreboding energy that 1999's Over the Edgeshad, but it also resonates a ubiquitous calm that feels something likefloating on ocean waves. Chalk's drones stay consistent throughout,relenting only to reveal more ominous tones under the dominant ring anddrag of some timeless organ. The blurred images of the cover bring tomind a haunted spectre traversing some dark plain covered in tallgrasses and of unbearable size; no matter how far that figure travels,the disqueting feeling of infinity is always present. Anxiety dominatesthe album, but so does a sense of privacy. Throughout, I imagine myselfas this fictional pilgrim caught up in some endless search and, at thesame time, that long and lonely feeling opens up some kind of innerpeace, as though I am happy being alone and lost. So far as the soundgoes, Chalk's compositional skills are unbeatable. Whenever the soundsbecome too ghastly or alarming, Chalk shifts gears and somehow invertsthem into striking and monumental sounds of great beauty. Strings buzz,organs disintegrate, and whales bellow their songs over this landscape,all in a harmony that defies any easy explanation. This is what Chalkdoes best though: defy easy anything. Fall in the Wake...occupies several emotional and atmospheric worlds at once: the denseand open, the terrifying and the awesome, and the contradictorypositions of both quiet and loud. It's a difficult middle ground thatChalk finds and weaves into music and it's a difficult middle groundthat few others can accomplish. This release has me anxiously awaitingthe next Mirror album and has put me in the unenviable position ofwanting more solo Chalk music: five years between albums is too long towait. 
It's so difficult not to daydream during the summer months. Theweather's warm and the office or an urban jungle is the last placeanybody would want to be: gasping for air through the heavy smog whenit seems like everybody else in the world's on vacation. Black Dice'slatest album is no help. The sounds on Creature Comfortsare easily some of the most intoxicating imaginable, with delicateguitar, sonic warbles, birds and bubble pops, and delay effects thattake a life completely independent of the input. For the first fewtracks, I'm on a remote tropical beach, somewhere between consiousnessand unconsciounsess where sights and sounds completely blur due to theoverwhelming heat or something funky in the drink. By the fourth song,"Creature," Black Dice introduce steady pulsing beats, but not the typethat get blasted on a boombox of some girl in a bikini on rollerskatespassing by, but the nightlife of a unique culture far removed from whatthe tourists can find. A brief interlude and the 15+ minute "Skeleton"washes in, peaceful and slow-paced, with consonant guitar strums, likestaring at the ocean under a moonlit sky. Halfway through, the nightsky is illuminated with a sparkling shower of either bats or shootingstars, I can't figure it out. "Schwip Schwap" is brief transition,changing courses a few times in two minutes, like a walk back to campas the smooth beach sand between the feet becomes pavement and a pauseis taken to put sandals back on. It gracefully leads into the album'scloser, "Night Flight," with a quiet intro, then a roar of an engine,and it's off into the darkness on the back of a scooter with the windblowing through the hair. So, if this album is playing and I'm asleepat my desk, don't wake me, because your face in this place is the lastthing I want to see.
The third album from this semi-amorphous Newburyport, MA, band shows anew growth as well as a newfound playfulness, making for a thoroughlyenjoyable listening experience. Regular partners-in-crime Juliet Nelsonand JR Gallagher rejoin Dylan Metrano in the studio to make some movingsongs based upon contemporary literature and music but completely theirown, with the exception of a stunning Wolf Colonel cover that theyalmost steal from its originators. Wolf Colonel's Jason Anderson lendshis multiple talents to the record, as does Marc Gartman, allowing themusic to move in many directions at once on a whim. The result is abraver, rawer, and more passionate Tiger Saw with the power to eitherdecimate or reduce to tears anyone who listens. The dueling/blendingvoices of Metrano and Nelson are to die for, as always, and Andersoneven joins in here and there, adding a new dimension to the vocalpresence. Where there is a real difference is in the music, as themelodies and presence of these songs is more confrontational than theband has shown in the past. It's almost as though they arereinvigorated or reinspired in their craft, taking more chances andfeeling less dependent on their past. Even the mixing seems to bringeverything more to the forefront, and right at the listener, conveyingan emotionally charged reality. The first few songs on the album swayfrom themes light-hearted to contemplative and near bitter to somber,and there's nary a misstep to be found. This is well-crafted art,created and presented with a pure heart bent on the task, projectingwhatever it feels at that moment. The song where I completely becameimmersed in the wonder of it all was the simple and gorgeousinstrumental "West of the Sun," with a crescendo that almost eclipsesthe rest of the record. To think that this band has that power evenwithout their much-lauded singing ability was pleasing, to say theleast. With all of the different layers Tiger Saw peeled off to reachthis point, they're bound to uncover more magic underneath. For thistime, there's plenty to go around.
Icelandic newcomer Orlygur Thor Orlygsson creates primarily short butsweet instrumental guitar pieces, and on his debut album he displays awide range of emotions and styles. Ölvis has the good sense toconcentrate on the good moments and not dwell too long on pieces, whichmakes for a streamlined debut that introduces his handiwork withoutneedless filler. Recorded and played by Orlygsson with a few guests ondrums and synth only, the album is also a self-made man kind ofachievement. There are moments where it's hard to believe that one mancreated all these lush and pleasant soundscapes, so on that level,mission accomplished. Unfortunately, there are some areas where I couldnot avoid the feeling that certain elements were particularly annoying.First, "mostly" instrumental means that there are vocals here andthere, and they are so drenched in effects and faded in the mix thatthey're hardly noticeable. However, occasionally they are audible justenough to know that they are ever so slightly off-key, and that makesthem unnecessary andoff-putting. Instrumental only would be preferred on those tracks,since the music itself is quite pleasing. Here and there, though, eventhat has its moments of what I like to call nails-on-a-chalkboardness,such as when the music is a bit too repetitive with not enoughvariation. Switching to the other section earlier would have savedthese tracks for me, but as it stands I would more than likely skipthem on repeat listens. These are minor complaints on an otherwisewell-rounded debut, however, as Orlygsson has all the other bases morethan covered. Memorable melodies, a good mix of instruments, peaks andvalleys, and the incorporation of varied rhythms and styles make this adebut full of things to like. There is room for improvement, but that'sall in good time; for now, there's plenty more present to make up forit.
This release ties up some loose ends, collecting the studio material from a few elusive Current 93 releases: Looney Runes, Lucifer Over London, Tamlin and Misery Farm. It's a welcome release for those who didn't spring for these limited-edition EPs back when they were released, or for people who are just now getting up to speed with Current 93. What immediately sets SixSixSix: SickSickSick apart from other Current 93 compilations of previously existing material is the superior quality of the music.Durtro
Specifically, the songs from 1994's Lucifer Over London and Tamlin EPs, are among the best that Current 93 has produced. The epic song "Hitler as Kalki (SDM)" from Thunder Perfect Mind was the first time Tibet collaborated with Nick Salomon of The Bevis Frond, an oft-overlooked cult British brand responsible for psych-rock masterpieces like Triptych and New River Head. Nick Salomon's mindbending electric guitar soloing lent a heaviness and majesty to Tibet's crepuscular musings that is without equal in the Current 93 catalog. David Tibet's oft-expressed affection for 70's progressive and heavy metal acts like Uriah Heep and Judas Priest was finally given an outlet, to startlingly powerful effect.
On the title track of Lucifer Over London, Salomon again contributes psych guitar, this time aping the famous riff from Black Sabbath's "Paranoid," spinning it out into a hypnotic, cyclical refrain, as Tibet unfolds one of his more chilling visions of Apocalypse. The material on Lucifer and Tamlin, (along with the Of Ruine or Some Blazing Starre LP, which was recorded during these same sessions), seems to represent a pinnacle for Tibet's lyrics, effortlessly weaving deliriously rendered Gnostic symbolism with precise poetic imagery: "All tiny blue pain/As the Mother Blood emerges/Then the Mother Grief/And the Blue Gates of Death/Open armwide/Open teethwide." "Sad Go-Round" is a Groundhogs song from the album Solid, Tibet and Solomon using the achingly beautiful minor-chord guitar loop to accentuate the circular motion of the lyrics.
Tamlin's B-side "How the Great Satanic Glory Faded," also features a stunning performance by Salomon on guitar. Recorded over the phone line, Tiny Tim introduces the track by relating his vision of the devil as "a beautiful angel...telling the world's biggest lie," Tibet launches into a densely lyrical paean to the double-gendered form of Lucifer. "Tamlin" is a long-form traditional ballad from the British Isles, relating the story of a noblewoman impregnated by a wood sprite. The music is another gorgeous medieval setting by Michael Cashmore, and Tibet's menacing whisper is flanged and multiplied to chilling effect.
The material from 1990's Looney Runes has not held up terribly well, a collaboration with Steven Stapleton that results in a raucous industrial tune filled with perversely mutated nursery rhymes and wacky cartoon sound effects. "The Seven Bows Are Revealed At the End of Time..." is Tibet in prophet mode again, unveiling a hallucinogenic William Blake-style endtime scenario that wears thin after the first few listens. Finally, "Misery Farm" is pure novelty: a music hall sing-along with barnyard animal noises. It's quite amusing, but it feels strange coming at the end of so much deeply wrought poetry. 
Jhon Balance and Sleazy are no longer partners. Sleazy's moved toThailand, and Jhon's moved to London. The physical location ofThreshold House, where Coil used to live and record their music, hasbeen abandoned. Jhon Balance has a new lover and collaborator, artistIan Johnstone, he's grown a D.H. Lawrence-style beard, and seems tohave fallen once again into a vortex of substance abuse and insanity.Both Jhon and Sleazy have announced that they are now working onnon-Coil side projects. Despite all evidence to the contrary, however,Coil have continued to insist that they are not breaking up. The firstevidence of this came with their recent mini-tour through a handful ofEuropean cities, their so-called "Even An Evil Fatigue" tour. At eachof their concert dates, they've been selling this CD-R entitled Black Antlers.With the exception of a new version of "Broccoli" and a song called"Tattooed Man," (apparently destined for inclusion on the long-agoscrapped Dark Age of Love LP), the songs on this disc mirrorthe setlist of the recent concerts. In fact, the barebones packagingand low-fidelity recording of Black Antlers leads me to suspectthat it is nothing but a glorified concert rehearsal captured onrecord. According to various sources, Coil have plans to re-record andre-mix this material, and will eventually give it an official release.Therefore, I should probably withhold final judgment on these songs.However, it's hard not to notice the under-produced, impromptu natureof the music and vocals. There is a loose, improvisatory feel to thesetracks that I'm not altogether convinced is the final word for thesesongs. Jhon Balance's vocals are given too much prominence in the mix,overwhelming the Sleazy's laptop programming and Thighpaulsandra'svintage synthesizer squalls. However, approached as a series of "worksin progress," the album has quite a lot to recommend it. "The Gimp(Sometimes)" is a spooked, melancholic lament by Balance, set againstan eerie backdrop of distorted synthesizers and scattered percussiveelements. "Sex With Sun Ra (Part 1 - Saturnalia)" is the best song onthe album, Balance narrating an erotic fantasy partly based on Sun Ra's"black folks in space" prophecies as explicated in John Coney's film Space is the Place:"He dreamt of color music and the machines that make it possible/Hetook me for a ride on a space ship powered by natural music." The musicbears no resemblance to the cosmic free jazz of Sun Ra, veering closerto Musick to Play in the Dark-era Coil: gurgling synthscapeswith slow, percolating rhythms. "All The Pretty Little Horses" is anunexpected cover of the traditional British folk song made famous (toBrainwashed readers) by Current 93. Coil's version is quite lovely,with expertly played marimba as accompaniment for Balance's bestattempt at crooning. "Teenage Lightning (10th Birthday Version)"resurrects and expands the LSD track, giving it a moreopen-ended, organic feel than the original. "Black Antlers (Where'sYour Child)" ends the disc on a high note, a druggy rave-up full ofqueasy samples and chopped, distended vocal samples. With a littlefinessing, this album has the potential to be one of Coil's finest.
The subtitle of this new collection from Mute, A Beginner's Guide to the Music of Throbbing Gristle,is a fairly accurate description of what the disc provides. The problemwith a group as culturally significant and influential as ThrobbingGristle is that the music is only half the story, and that other halfis what this disc can't provide. Released to coincide with the glut ofThrobbing Gristle reissues and reformations surrounding the cancelledRE~TG event, this disc showed up in bins at the same time as Mutant TG,Mute's pointless collection of tepid remixes. I suppose this disc wascreated for the legions of curious who have read the enthusiastic,worshipful praise heaped on TG in various publications, but have noobvious entry point into the daunting discography of the so-called"wreckers of civilization." To that end, the compiler of this disc (thesuspiciously named Olivier Cormier Ota?o), has done a fairly decent jobof putting together a wide cross-section of TG's recorded output. Allof the major phases of the TG sound are present; the ominous industrialsoundscapes of "Industrial Introduction" and "Cabaret Voltaire;" theagitated, screamed provocations of "We Hate You (Little Girls)" and"Zyklon B Zombie;" the jagged psychedelic mutations of "Dead onArrival" and "Hamburger Lady;" and the proto-techno experimentation of"Distant Dreams, Pt. 2" and "Hot on the Heels of Love." There is adecided emphasis on more-or-less "accessible" material, although with aband as abrasive and uncommercial as TG, accessible is truly a relativeterm. Taken together, the tracks present a good argument for TG asmusical innovators, with a few well-chosen live recordings thatevidences their legendary talent for provocative live performance. Mymain complaint with the CD lies with the packaging. The total lack ofany historical notes or perspectives on TG is strange, especially for arelease purporting to be a Beginner's Guide. It is impossibleto separate TG from their historical and social context; to do so is tomisunderstand the scope of their significance. Further, the band'svisual presentation—in costuming, symbolism, record sleeves and thevarious "reports" and missives—is at least as important as their soundon record. I suppose beginners could seek out this material elsewhere,but would it have killed Mute to reproduce some of it along with thedisc? Adding to the problem is the cover art by Peter Christopherson.While I appreciate its powerfully grotesque, Salo-esquebrutality, it doesn't mesh with the visual strategies of early TGartwork, with its clinical style relating the activities of the bandlike some classified document from the KGB, slyly satirizing andattacking the status quo of music and culture. I can guardedlyrecommend The Taste of TG for its musical content, but for beginners, further study will be required. 
Now represents the first new music recorded by Throbbing Gristlein over two decades. It was available in a limited edition of 500 CDsand LPs at the recent live recording session event in London, which wasdone in lieu of the cancelled RE~TG weekend festival. The disc consistsof four lengthy tracks, which appear in shortened form on the LP. It'sfascinating to hear new material by TG, after twenty years of listeningto each member's musical evolution with their own projects—Chris andCosey, Psychic TV and Coil. It is immediately apparent listening to Nowthat each member has brought more experience and maturity to the table,and are not content merely to rehash or resurrect the familiar oldstrategies of the original incarnation of TG. In fact, Now fitsquite nicely into the current underground scene. The music is not milesaway from the new wave of young, TG-influenced acts like Black Dice andWolf Eyes. "X-Ray" rides in on a cold tractor beam, canceling allthought with its refrigerator drones and oscillating distortion. It'ssomewhat similar to early TG material, but it's also refreshingly new,taking in all of the developments in noise, experimental and industrialmusic in the last 20 years. "Splitting Sky" is my favorite of the newtracks, a 12-minute dub-influenced journey into the dark heart ofelectro, with Genesis providing gravelly, mutated vocals. The songinvokes the looming figure of Detroit Techno, viewed through thetransgressive lens of four of the most talented luminaries ofunderground music and culture. Chris, Cosey, Peter and Genesis seemwilling to confront their legendary status head-on, and confound anyexpectations or controversy that their reunion may have sparked off.Some may be disappointed by the relative tameness of the material on Now,but could anyone really have expected them to recapture the fierce,political aggression of their earlier material? That might have been alittle calculated and pathetic coming from a group of musicians nowpushing 18. It's tempting to hear echoes of recent Coil and Chris andCosey (or Carter-Tutti?) music in the mix on Now, and it'scertainly not an unwarranted comparison, considering thehallucinogenic, distended disco-dub of "Splitting Sky" and theatmospheric jazz of "Almost Like This." The stand-up bass andxylophone, and Genesis' tortured croon on "Almost Like This" deliverson the promise of their parody of Easy Listening LPs on the 20 Jazz Funk Greatssleeve. The fourth track, "How Do You Deal?" comes the closest torecreating the dark urgency of early TG live performances, with itsdistorted basslines and metallic guitar swipes, Genesis screaming:"Life is a vacuum pump/Strangeness/Sucking in/Wasted time/You can'twin." This dystopian negativity is a refreshing salve to the hokeypersonal-empowerment sermons that Genesis has been boring us with forthe past twenty years. The song builds to a series of noisy,apocalyptic crescendos that each try to outdo the last for sheerindustrial-strength aggression. Whether or where exactly Nowfits into the TG canon could be discussed and argued at length, but inthe meantime, I'm going to enjoy listening to it. It's a trulyimpressive record by a band that until recently seemed like the leastlikely candidates for a reunion. 
Following his self-recorded O+EP, Christophe Stoll aka Nitrada decided to invite guest musicians fora more collaborative approach on his debut album. The resultingcollection of songs is a varied and intense soul-searching experimentdrenched in ambience and trickery. There is an almost uncomfortablefeeling of anticipation that surrounds each song, like waiting forsomeone to flick on the lights and discover what was hidden before. Thelights do get switched on in every song, so the release that follows isalso heard, and it's a complex emotional exchange that I've never heardcrafted and executed quite so expertly. Literally I was on the edge ofmy seat listening to most songs. Stoll has used the formula to createsomething truly wonderful that, while not entirely unique, is full oflife and songs worth listening to. Where the first track is a bitmellow and vacant, with very little going on, each subsequent track hasa strong melody, catchy beats, and a steady build and deliver process."Everthing Is Not Alright" has a classic but muted dance beat and fadedfield voice samples to start. When the echoed keyboards join in,suddenly there's a new life to the song, and the beat changes slightlybut accordingly to compensate. The songs evolve to become betterstructures as they progress. Vocalists provide meaning and variety,becoming true practitioners of the collective vision. Even the quaintrecitation on the title track has some umph to it, and adds aninteresting new taste. Although Nitrada is a fairly new artist, he hasa classic vision and concept, and as his debut full-length shows it'snot a bad combination. -
If I were to see this second album by Edison Woods in a record store, Iwould buy it based on the album title or song titles alone — a processthat has served me well, despite the occasional misses ("Bowling forFuckers" sounded like a good song, but I was wrong). Even though theband name sounds like a character from a soap opera or Everwood, thisBrooklyn-based band is far from a caricature or a parody of itself. Seven Principleswas released in October last year, but I just got around to listeningto it, and it floored me. Led by sultry vocalist andmulti-instrumentalist Julia Frodahl, the band is one that carefullyconsiders every aspect of their being, like the placement of a realfeather under the CD tray. More of an artistic collective than a band,their music is still paralyzing in its raw beauty, and the simplicityof its design. The arrangements are sparse, with most songs featuringone main instrument and several others added almost as accents only.Guiding it all is Frodahl's voice and poetic lyrics on a variety ofsubjects where everyone can find something personal. "So now let mego," she sings several times on the opening track "Secrets," andhonestly it's easy to understand why someone wouldn't want to just fromthe way she sings it. Empassioned, naked, and full of emotion, it's themark of a person who knows how to love. Even when she warbles away fromthe melody a little ("Like a Jewel"), it sounds so assured and plannedthat it doesn't grate like it would from most other artists. As thealbum progresses, the songs venture more into jam territory, as theband members let it out a bit and improvise for effect. On the fewsongs where there are no vocals, the songs still soar, unencumbered byanything that might bring them down. Edison Woods are an impressiveband with a unique sound, and this album shows there's plenty ofstrengths and variations to keep them going for years to come. 
Here's another gem of miniature electro acoustics from Bowindo, the Italian label that, within only a few years of activity, has become a bright beacon on the Mediterranean front, producing a modest string of thoroughly uncompromising releases, all of which will be featured on the Brain in coming weeks.Bowindo
Bowindo 03 is an uneven split dominated by two tracks from Alessandro Bosetti who will be better known for his challenging sax-playing as a contemporary of John Butcher and Bhob Rainey, working in a similar strained style of ultra-dry landscaping and small, human-scaled tensions. His first piece, the 18-min. "Sardinia and Japan are Islands," however, does not offer the sun-kissed change of pace that its title might suggest. Though expansive, even "breezy" sounds such as wind chimes and bird calls do find their way into the mix, Bosetti's islands could be just as easily represented using ink dots on a blank page. The piece is a bizarre trip over chemical waters, adrift on sharp pure tones and the odd analog crackle with enough extended silences to keep the mood cool and detached. No saxophone will enter at all, the only organic sounds limited to faraway thumping (barrels afloat, knocking?), the ghostly chimes, and some abrasive voice sampling, a section of which includes a text listing island names.
While there doesn't seem to be much of an internal logic behind this work, its drift is quite effective in creating feelings of discomfort that seem vaguely oceanic, a paralyzed-at-sea, Ancient Mariner-type vibe for sure. An interesting comparison could be Nurse With Wound's Salt Marie Celeste, music that works towards a similar effect but through different means. Bosetti's other contribution, the 22 min. "Kitchen Piece," likewise is not the sort of embracive or heartwarming creation expected from, say, Yoko Ono if she'd chosen the cooking area as a setting for one of her many "pieces." Sourced using sounds from an in-kitchen improv by labelmates Guiseppe Ielasi and Renato Rinaldi, the track is, at first, a monster of crudely cut-up noise sounding like average dish-clatter folded over-and-over on top of itself. Just as brutal are the quick stops and starts of Bosetti's cuts, the interjections more damaging each time, allowed little release in the piece's long and slow descent towards the chorus of layered pure tones and murky static that forms its conclusion.
The third and final track belongs to German experimental dramatist Antje Vowinckel, and, at barely half the length of the other two, it feels a bit unnecessary, though certain comparisons exist, especially in the stunted, silence-ful pacing carrying over from Bosetti's works. Hers, however, suffers from a sound palette that feels too varied for its own good, allowing only cryptic referencing to be made and causing the certain bold, even humorous inclusions (like sped-up martial arts grunting) to clash broadly with any kind of mood emerging elsewhere. The Bosetti pieces, however, were not such easy sells either, and the fact that they feel as strong after several listens gives hope that this disc might prove more well-rounded upon future consideration.
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