DFA's other 12" release comes in the form of a double-sided vinyl from Delia L. Gonzalez and Gavin R. Russom. "El Monte" is one of the most convincing evocations of the synthesizer throb of Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream I've ever heard. Plenty of artists aim for this—Anthony Rother, Pete Namlook and the entire FAX label roster come to mind—but few ever come close the intrigue and majesty that Gonzalez and Russom accomplish with this 15-minute mindbender. Hearing it, I immediately contacted my local planetarium to arrange a cosmic laser-light show synchronized to El Monte's dark electro-progressive pulses. They hung up on me, but that doesn't change my feelings about this track. Beginning in a rainstorm and ending in a dark alien jungle landscape, Gonzalez and Russom's dark, propulsive synths swoop and rotate, gathering momentum in the same way as Tangerine Dream's classic "Circulation of Events." The DFA Remix of "Rise" cannot help but be something of a letdown after Side A, but Murphy and Goldsworthy manage to balance their dance-friendly instincts with Gonzales and Russom's retro-space arpeggiations, turning in a good approximation of The Orb circa "Blue Room."
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Russell's original singles — released under a variety of monikers such as Dinosaur L, Loose Joints and Indian Ocean — frequently trade hands for exorbitant prices. He worked with all the important figures of the nascent disco scene, notably Walter Gibbons and Larry Levan, and he co-founded the influential Sleeping Bag records. But more importantly, his work from this period is hauntingly beautiful, showcasing artistic focus, inspiration and genius rarely heard in dance music. Aside from the odd track appearing on recent compilations such as Strut's Disco Not Disco series and Soul Jazz's New York Noise, the bulk of his catalog has remained hopelessly out of print for two decades. Soul Jazz moves to rectify this situation with the release of The World of Arthur Russell, an essential disc collecting 11 of Russell's greatest avant-disco sides. As if this weren't cause enough for celebration, Soul Jazz made the smart decision to avoid rehashing the Russell tracks already made available on recent compilations, and they include many extended versions and alternate mixes that are particularly rare. It's far from an exhaustive collection, but the brilliant re-mastering and sequencing make for ideal listening, so it's hard to complain. The peculiar genius of Arthur Russell's idiosyncratic masterpieces is enticingly intangible, and cries out for deep listening and deconstruction. Tracks like the "Schoolbell/Treehouse" and "In The Light Of The Miracle" have an oceanic soulfulness that is entirely uncanny. Russell's palette is deceptively simple: clipped percussion and polyrhythms, scattered horns, the odd guitar or cello part, impressionistic keyboard improvs and the liberal use of echo. Arthur Russell was clearly influenced by the production techniques of dub reggae, unsurprising for an artist who entitled his personal album of solo cello compositions World of Echo. Russell takes his dub influences into previously uncharted waters, however, into psychedelic territories alien to the dance floor. When Russell himself contributes vocals, his bizarre, throaty delivery is pregnant with soul and detached sexuality. The stunning "Let's Go Swimming" utilizes odd time signatures with its skewed percussive throbs, forming an unstable foundation for Russell's space-cadet muttering. The chorus echoes and reverberates, bouncing off itself and forming concentric whirlpools that resolve themselves with each atonal swell of keyboard. There is a jarring, unobvious quality to this music that makes it unpredictable; I never really know what's coming next, a true rarity in beat-oriented dance music. "In The Light Of The Miracle" is a 13-minute plus epic, vaguely African percussion and elliptical melodies which leisurely transform into a laidback tribal groove that truly hypnotizes. The abstract sexuality of "Pop Your Funk" uses fingerpicked cello as a basis for a series of random instrumental fills that hold together tenuously, constantly threatening to fall apart, but miraculously forming a tight, tense groove. The more dance-friendly Paradise Garage favorites, like Larry Levan's remix of "Is It All Over My Face?" and Francois Kevorkian's mix of "Go Bang" are clear progenitors for the diva-driven house music that dominated the 1980's. Most classic disco, even the most flawlessly realized tracks by Giorgio Moroder or Cerrone, is ultimately self-referential and dependent upon its connection to borrowed nostalgia for the excesses of Studio 54. Arthur Russell's work stands virtually alone in its ability to transcend the familiar tropes and imagery of disco - it is music wholly redolent of windswept cornfields, banks of luminous whispering clouds, vast undulating oceans and the ghostly echoes of outer space.
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Prolific sound artist John Duncan's newest disc finds him in a kind of half-collaboration with Asmus Tietchens, whose readings from two E.M. Cioran texts become sources for the voice manipulation that has characterized Duncan's work as of late. Cioran's name should sound familiar to Tietchens listeners, as quotes from the modern philosophe/aphorist frequently appear on the musician's sleeve notes. Duncan's notes here, however, express a clear distaste for the fatalism that dominates Cioran's philosophy, a kind of a-philosophy often abbreviated in cheeky, opaque aphorisms like the one displayed on Tietchens' new FT+: "It is simple to be "deep," just follow your own false bents."Die Stadt
Part of Tietchens' reading for Da sich die Machtgier? comes from Cioran's examination of tyranny in the modern world, explaining the hamster-wheel trend in which humanity submits to the will of a great and "pitiless" dictator, degenerates into "primal disorder", and then begins again by embracing another tyrant. Strange that Duncan, who disagrees with such fatalism and actually did not even receive a translation of the text until after finishing recording, has produced a record that feels much closer to the man's doomed words than anything Tietchens ever prefaced with a Cioran quote. For three of the disc's four tracks, Duncan completely obliterates not only words themselves, but any evidence of the vocal origin of the sounds. He's taken Tietchens' original recording, presented "more or less intact" on the remaining track, and transformed it into three utterly inhuman compositions. Inhuman not because they are desolate in composition, or even because they lack expression or an emotional core, but because of the obtrusive and unforgiving way each one crowds the listening space. The noisy opener "Freih zein hoem macht" pushes miniscule fragments of vocal sound into endless repeat, a bombardment of clicking surges that somehow resists the retreat into a more atmospheric or patterned industrial space. Each sound arrives in charged, unhesitant succession, as if eager fill the gap left by its predecessor. Silence in this music, rather than offering relief or resolution, seems only to emphasize the void, offering nothing but a blank stare into the next numbing assault. Duncan's other tracks are less abrasive, though no easier to ignore. The closing "Aber..." is essentially a short, buzzing drone cycle, molded and amplified over the song's 30-min. length, but the sprawl never reaches an apex of textural complexity, nor does it develop in any kind of organic fashion. The fuzzy hum of the tones have more in common with Tietchens' voice than the other two tracks, but they are far from sounding human or even comfortable. The track becomes an endless churn, like faraway factory noise, or the sound of Cioran's wheel of history, scraping on and on. While Da sich does not lend itself to similar repetition, it does make for a thoroughly alien experience, especially in conjunction with the textual foundation.
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Those who have taken the time to check out the recently updated Contributors page for The Brain may have noticed my Top 10 list for 2003. Collectively, the readers made so many lousy choices in this year's poll that I felt compelled to remind everyone that there were far more worthwhile releases in this past year than were reflected by the all-too-predictable choices. One such example comes from French producer Jonas Bering on the high-quality Kompakt label, whose releases continue to set the bar for progressive electronic music.Kompakt
Sketches For The Next Season is the full-length follow-up to 2000's debut Bienfait and displays the increasingly more danceable and accessible direction that he has moved towards over the years. The ten tracks that make up this sophomore effort are healthy doses of shimmering ambient techno and funky minimalist tech-house ideal for both bedroom and nightclub enjoyment. On the opener "Diabold," crisp 4/4 beats and tiny rhythmic elements groove along while a clinically mechanical bassline reminds us that this is 100% machine music. From there, however, the music only gets warmer. Tracks like "Nighthawks," "Ninas Song," and the absolutely gorgeous "Wissant" emit and emote near-psychedelic vibes that penetrate the mind for the sole purpose of releasing massive amounts of serotonin. I make this drug-related comment because Sketches For The New Season had a truly narcotic impact on me. Despite the fact that I was clean and sober while listening to it, I honestly felt doped up under the influence of Jonas Bering's mood-altering melodies, rhythms, and atmospheres. The echoey effected bell sounds of "Mustang 1966" twinkle and gleam over the sparsely filled spaces between beats, espousing the concept of less-is-more that characterizes most dub records. (Just so that we're clear, this album is just as much of a dub record as those from Pole, Vladislav Delay, or any other Basic Channel / Chain Reaction descendents.) Appropriately made available prior to this album's release on 12" vinyl, the single "Normandie 1" consists of a clicky bassdrum loop over some deep, deep synth textures that flood the senses. Appropriately the high (no pun intended) point here—the song's catchiness—is instant and the aurally hallucinogenic qualities are very real. Now, I haven't lost hope in all of the readers just yet, so I'm hoping that those who whined publically or privately about my Warp-bashing will take heed to what I'm saying here and purchase what was truly a worthy last minute entry to my aforementioned list. If you fail to do so, then you truly deserve eachother. All of you.
Everybody should know by now that this boxed set completes the CD collection of all the live Throbbing Gristle concerts begun with the CD release of 24 about a year ago. Complain all you want about cashing in or whatever, but for the package, it's an appropriate price.Mute
The 10xCD set starts with the infamous Oundle Boys School (see the video with only boys between 9 and 16 in attendance), includes both Berlin shows at the S.O. 36, the Rafters gig, and ends with both US performances in Los Angeles and San Francisco. All shows have been remastered by Chris Carter and the results, once again, are astounding. First of all, these releases completely invalidate nearly all the bootleg live releases that have popped up over the years and officially released recordings like Mission of Dead Souls and the Discipline 12" with recordings that, while never crystal clear perfect, are considerably better, even when apologies are being made regarding the source material (with the exception of the Los Angeles show). Hearing the audience screaming back to the group is a wonderful insight that was usually completely muffled out by hand-cassette-made releases in the past, along with the funny opening stand-up comedy-like remarks from Genesis P-Orridge. However, what I do think they fail to do with this is compile the other cassette releases: the TG Live In the Studio (which was bootlegged only recently as Pastimes/Inudstrial Muzak) and the two untitled interview cassettes IRCA and IRCB issued with the original 24 Hours cassette box. Additionally, while the absence of track markings for each new song doesn't bother me, the absence of songlist does—especially when it was chronicled on the Chris and Cosey website a couple years back, before the utterly pointless Industrial Records website came into existence. Finally, the gifts in this box are rather dippy when compared to the illuminating book, postcards, buttons and patches that came in the 24 box: four metal credit card-sized pieces of die cut engraved metal stencils to make your own TG flash symbol. But, honestly, for the price, it's still a pretty good deal.
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