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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Montreal-based future million-sellers Stars have the right formulaworking for them. The instrumental competance is flawless, theproduction is fantastic, and the sincerity is genuine, but I can't getover my polar gut feelings about the dichotomy of the two singers.Songs like "Elevator Love Letter," and "Look Up," with Amy Millantaking the lead vocal, are both ear-grabbingly pop-powerful andwistfully surreal to hold the attention, as well as her parts on songslike "Heart." These tunes alone make a strong, compelling case in favorof this record. However, most of the material in between, sung byTorquil Campbell are a bit too timid for my tastes. In almost allcases, the group executes a fine balance between guitars, violin, andboth electronic and organic percussion. The songs are undeniablyprepped for greatness, which doesn't render them completely wishy-washyor forgettable, but I'm only left with a feeling of mediocrity withclich? love songs that aren't challenging enough to make me keep comingback. Rest assured, however, that the true standout songs from here arepowerful enough to be forever immortalized to a small number of peoplein the form of handwritten mix tapes that come directly from the heart.samples:
This music could give a new meaning to the word "accessible." On one hand, Merge is an album constructed from Ikeda's 13-year-old "sound diary," music created to "reflect [his] everyday life," and, therefore, arguably more approachable than something based, say, around a chapter from Ulysses or the story of a mythical lady buying a stairway to heaven. Music from the diary of a living, breathing human is necessarily less demanding than music involving the imagist pile-ups of fictional or narrative songwriting. True, any piece of music will impose a kind of narrative simply by progressing in real time, and, I will admit that upon first listening to Merge, I found myself unconsciously trying to reconstruct the events which inspired such a cold, often unsettling backdrop.Touch
I was soon aware, however, of something beyond simple documentation at work. Any attempt to recover the specific inspirations for Ikeda's snail-paced sine tone collages would be next to impossible anyway, and luckily this is not the artist's desire. Instead, Merge attempts a widening of communication lines between musician and audience, an environment in which little stands in the way of my grasping a piece of Ikeda's day (or night), and making it entirely my own. The sine waves play a big part in this effect. Music produced by pure tone generators avoids the dialogue among sources that occurs with turntable or sample-based music, as well as the idiosyncratic quiver of the guitarist's hand. While not "accessible" in the traditional sense, pure sound needs no preamble; it carries no baggage and is therefore easier to approach on neutral ground, come what may. Ikeda's tones ride the surface for most of Merge, guarding against the possibility of giving the music anything less than full attention. They are not forceful, however, and rarely occupy fixed states, oscillating smoothly between the uncomfortable and the inviting at the urge of the personality guiding them. Each song has its own set of droning waveforms blanketing all other activity in a way that is subtle enough to allow the background to filter through, without establishing a set relationship between the two. It?s almost as if the sine tones exist to prime the ear, making it more receptive to the abstract bell patterns and simulated string flourishes behind. The continual flux of tonal relationships, with sine tones becoming at once stage and concealing pocket for the delicate background, creates a listening experience valuable more for its process than for any lasting resonance. The relatively short songs offer concise, inviting trips through atmospheres that feel consistently new, while at the same time very personal. I have listened to Merge dozens of times and still encounter its strange pull in new ways.
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For me, the name Mountaineers conjures up images of a rustic tradition,as well as adventurousness and innovation on the frontier. On Messy Century,the band does position itself on a frontier, or boundary, and straddlesthe line, taking liberally from both sides. Their synthesis is acompelling one, exciting and reassuring. Their compositions give theimpression that there are dozens of styles, influences, and ideas eachfighting for center stage. This competition is ever present, as sampledbeats and electronic manipulation ebb and flow over light, bouncystrumming and sing-a-long vocals. The end result is not confused orunfocused, however. Mountaineers have a keen sense of when their nickedpercussion should hit, or whether their synthesizer lines should holdback or rise to a dizzying climax. With all the modernized electronicflourishes floating around, it is important to realize that the core ofthese songs is a humble acoustic folk sensibility that is delightfullyhook filled. When the band puts the emphasis on this aspect of theirsound, as on "I Gotta Sing," they do not suffer from any supposed lossof novelty. The song's bright vocals and memorable lyrics erupt in ajovial, smiling chorus. "UK Theatre" even brings a snappy whistle intothe mix of handclaps and pots and pans drumming, adding to the feelingthat this is a recording of some exuberant living room free for all. Onthe other end of the spectrum, there are tracks that revel in theirprocessed instrumentation and computerized blips. "Bom Bom" is repletewith punchy cascades of melody and blurry, obscured vocals. Though itseems light years away from the more straightforward songs on the disc,the start stop rhythms and attention to song craft refuse to allow thissong to become an exercise in murkiness or aimless experimentation.Mountaineers manage to make the otherwise sterile and slick sound cozy."Apart From This," another track that relies on electronics (though notas drastically as "Bom Bom,") is imbued with a warmth that emanatesfrom the heart of the song. It has a swagger and a swing to it. Thefinal track, "Silent Dues," is a subdued, elegiac piece that driftsalong with an introspective tenor. All throughout this disc, the bandproves themselves an extremely versatile outfit, able to incorporateany number of differing thoughts and sounds into a pleasing pastiche.samples:
As the label's first release, Hybrid Electric unveil the second albumby critically praised electronic/acoustic artist Matt Shaw, also knownas Tex La Homa. Where his last full-length was a virtual snore, withmonotone delivery and static soundscapes, this sophomore effort is areal breath of fresh air. Shaw has honed his sound, concentrating onthe atmospherics and pop sensibilities that shined through before, andeliminated the repitition and flat presentations to produce aconsistent mood without feigning self importance. Dirty electronicpercussion gurgles from the speakers to start the set, as delicateelectric guitar entrances and invites. When Shaw finally opens hismouth halfway through the track, his vocals are treated so much thatthe words are often hard to make out, but it makes little differencefor a simple track of this beauty. Later, on "In the Clouds," thecloseness of the first track is replaced by pure isolation, but themusic almost makes it sound welcome. This is a tribute to a love thatdeserves better, and Shaw sells it well, and I can't get over how muchhis voice has improved and how good these songs are compared to thefirst album. Even when the vaguely country influence makes anappearance on "Paper Car," it's completely reinvented and there's nocause for concern. (Or, as Shaw puts it "I am not your enemy." Agreed.)If his debut was unabiding sadness, If Just Todayis the exact opposite, as every track has a driving energy and apositive outlook and feel. "Either Way" is the album's climax, asix-minute-plus mix of all the styles on the record that still blows meaway. This is my pick for most improved artist this year, and this is aperfect record to pull out come summer or autumn evenings when you'rewinding down.samples:
Norway's Virus want to create a sort of free-form heaviness thatchanges your perception of what to expect from the hardcore metal genrein an effort to promote versatility and variation. What they ended upwith is a lite version of adrenaline-fueled pound and screech with across between Mike Patton and Serj Tankian on vocals. Which ultimatelymeans sometimes the vocals are on key, sometimes nowhere near, and itsounds like that may or may not have been a conscious choice; but themusic is stable, engaging even, with sadly very little change from onetrack to the next. Virus try hard to make the songs blend together intoa congruous whole, with tracks fading into each other and combiningelements, but the music is so derivative and the vocal performancesoften so horrendous that it's hard to find anything really to latch onto. Incidentally, where other import artists have stayed with theirnative tongue or tried at some deeper meaning in the translation, Virusemote through lyrics that are almost incomprehensible, with talk ofscreaming insects and "I went smilingly like a classic obsession"topping the list of sub par nonsense. This, unfortunately, also meansthat they are not all that different from any other Norwegian hardcoreband that tries its cards on this side of the pond. Carheartis a valiant effort, though, and Virus are pouring their hearts allover this record. It just doesn't amount to much that hasn't been triedhere before.samples:
After a couple interesting mini-albums, including the excellent (thoughminimal) "Beat Tape Personalities" on Soul Jazz, AmmonContact had mepreparing for a full-length that would focus their efforts and showthem giving a bit more substance to a sound that, while far from stale,suffered instead from a kind of over-refinement. It seemed as though,in their efforts to cook each song down to its essential parts, the duoinstead guided their records straight to the 'DJ-fodder' bin,comfortable with the fact that they would never be more than a piece insomeone else's more elaborate puzzle. The ambitious title of Sounds Like Everything,though, threatened the masterwork of ostentatious stylistic shifts,overblown thematics, and guest-MC hoards that would prove me wrong. Nosuch luck. The disc's title most likely refers to the simpleeclecticism the group achieves through the scattered use of tribaldrums, woodwinds, and thumb piano, and while these sounds are welcomeadditions to the bare-bones, electo-funk of the duo's beats, they arenever enough to make things truly extraordinary. Many of the disc'stwenty tracks are under three minutes, sounding more like studioleftovers; the few moments of brilliance, like the syncopated,flute-blown jazz of "Zato Ichi," come and go with little or nodevelopment. I get the feeling that the inclusion of an MC wouldprovide the element of daring that is so lacking in these tracks andwould no doubt create a foil to make the beats sound more impressive.As it stands, one of the most enjoyable tracks probably required theleast amount of studio trickery. The cut-up "Top Tape 1," sounds likebits and pieces of a dozen trashed beats, spliced together almost atrandom to produce a few minutes of blissful unpredicatability.Conversly, the anthemic closer, "Our Cry For Peace," with its chorus oftribal drums, piano and flute is the busiest and longest track here,but the song comes off sounding like a weak variation on what wouldhardly be an eight-bar interlude on any jazz record worth its salt.That said, if AmmonContact set out to make an hour-long DJ tool, theyhave succeeded admirably, but anything else will require some morerisk-taking.samples:
Dean Roberts begins his new three song album on Kranky with a steadydrone which, on first listen, seems to promise (or at least implies)that the entire 35-minutes of the CD will feature this drone. I havelistened to enough experimental rock albums to know that an initialdrone offering will often persist and become a final drone coda, withonly subtle key alterations and modulations to lend it some"experimentalism." But about two minutes into "All Pidgins Sent to War,Palace of Adrenaline V. & E.E." a softly-struck piano emergesthrough the monotone, signaling a nice diversion from my expectations.Instead, Roberts delivers something lighter, something more palatable,more spare, even something more lyrical. At this point, the songblossoms instrumentally, with guitar, brushed cymbals, lightpercussion, upright bass, and plodding piano all tentatively joiningtogether with Roberts's voice. It all sounds rather improvisational,with the guitars mulling over the same measured progressions while theother instruments meander over the guitars. All this is done at arather slow pace. Roberts seems to justify his deliberateness withimprovisation. At the end of the first track, the spareness gathersitself and makes one last valiant attempt at density. It feels as ifthe players are almost strangling the last bit of life out the theirinstruments. Witnessing this instrumental asphyxiation, I felt someslightly perverted pleasure when I thought about this act done solelyon my behalf, or on the behalf of the listener. It's like seeing aboyfriend pummel another boy for talking to you, just to show you hecan. It's sick, but it's also impressive to demand such brutality.Speaking of brutality, Roberts's voice on the first song wavers notunlike the white winged moth he uses as another moniker for hisrecordings. It is not a pleasant or soothing voice and it has thenagging after-effect of an untrained instrument, like a third gradeoboe. But it gets better. In the more compact (5 minutes, versus 19minutes and 11 minutes on the two other songs) "Disappearance on theGrandest of Streets," Roberts finds a definitive melody and tune forhis voice and the song is bolstered by it. This song is the mostconfident offering of the three, whereas the other two range a littletoo far this way and that way, with too much space and time betweenthem. Likewise, the most compelling part of "All Pidgins..." is thelast two minutes (though the second half of this 19-minute compositionis genuinely excellent and, perhaps, a song distinct from the firsthalf in and of itself). It seems that both Roberts's voice and songsflourish within boundaries, a moth which does its best fluttering in ajar. - 
With his third solo record after the dissolution of Royal Trux, NeilMichael Hagerty finally feels like he's hit his stride and is firmlyresiding in his comfort zone. There is an ease and confidence to thesongs and his voice on The Howling Hexthat suggests the sometimes novelist and multi-instrumentalist iscomfortable in letting his often juxtaposing styles just exist andletting the tape roll. The album is essentially three separaterecording sessions with three live tracks interspersed that seem to begrouped thematically after that to form four sections of the album. Alot of the songs don't even hit the three-minute mark, and sometimesthat's a shame but mostly it's just perfect. The aura of these songs isall over the map, with sometimes sexy horns and raunch driving theproceedings, sometimes standard bass-drums-guitar fueling the randomramblings. Over it all, the driving force is the volatile vocals ofHagerty, calling for your first-born child or the end of it all, andchanging, chameleon-like, for whatever comes next. The most impressiveaspects are the brevity and bare-bones approach to most tracks. Thereare no unnecessary ingredients, no noodling or canoodling, just what ittakes to finish the song off. And it all feels right. In fact, thelongest tracks are the live tracks, which are especially revealing,letting a hint of the raw power turn on in what almost seems likemostly improvised and extended versions of two previously releasedsongs from his first two records and a new long jam. There seems to bea warts-and-all approach at play, and maybe that's another reason it'sso refreshing, like it doesn't always have to be dense and calculated.Certainly it's not easy listening, but it sounds easier on the man whodishes it out, at least.
Coldcut's 70 Minutes of Madness, DJ Shadow's Diminishing Returns, DJ/rupture's Gold Teeth Thief and now K.I.M.'s Miyagetogether present a convincing argument for the mix CD as a viable artform. With the sheer volume of recorded music available to the averagecrate digger — through record stores, internet auctions, GEMM, andfile-sharing — there is a larger palette than ever before for acreative individual to select and sequence a group of songs to delivera powerful aesthetic message, to alter perceptions of music and genre,and to entertain. K.I.M.'s Miyage, recently released onTigersushi, manages all three. Tigersushi is an online music communitythat specializes in leftfield dance and avant-groove. Their uniquemusical aesthetic cuts across avant-disco, krautrock, early industrial,leftfield house and modern IDM. Tigersushi Recordings, though barely ayear old, has already released a clutch of fantastic 12" singles, andtheir No G.D.M. compilation featured an impressively eclecticselection of forgotten vintage sides from the likes of Gina XPerformance, Material and Cluster. Miyage goes ten stepsfurther, kicking out a flawless set that had me scrutinizing thetracklist in wonderment. The mix is equal parts groovy and exotic,moody and surreal, fragile and extreme. There is a focused exotica viberunning through the tracks chosen, apparent from the first track, afield recording of wind blowing through an Aeolian organ on the SolomonIslands. It's the perfect lead-in for Arthur Lyman's Polynesian jazzexcursion "Ringo Oiwake." John Zorn plagiarized this track (withoutgiving credit) on his exotica album The Gift. It blendsseamlessly into a whimsical overture by French film composer Francoisde Roubaix. K.I.M. also contribute several transitional tracks to themix, using their considerable gifts to create the perfect rhythmicbridges between disparate musical ideas. Wevie Stonder's "Gypsy Chimp"is one of the most hilarious cut n' splice tracks I've ever heard, abizarrely infectious song that matches Gypsy fiddles with kazoos,jungle sounds and hicupping vocals. Cut to uber-diva Edith Piaf'sincomparable "Jezebel," and a slow dissolve to street performer andself-taught outsider Moondog's "Viking I," a beautifully primitivepiece for hand drums and xylophone. A quick journey through pipe organimprovs, Javanese tribal chanting, and Japan's wonderful Asa Chang& Junray, and we somehow end up in the middle of a rooftop-liftinggospel-disco meltdown mixed by legend Larry Levan. I'm not sure itmakes any sense, but I'm happy to be swept along in this idiosyncraticjourney. Jack-in-the-box melodies from Pierre Bastien and a treefalling in the woods segue into the overblown rock-disco of PsychicTV's "Ov Power," a welcome bit of nostalgia from the glory days ofGenesis P. After a terrific cut by cult rockers The Gun Club, the discends with K.I.M.'s rendition of The Smiths' paean to vegetarianism"Meat is Murder." It's given the laptop and vocoder treatment familiarfrom Schneider TM's cover of The Smiths' "There Is a Light That NeverGoes Out." Okay, so it's not an original idea, but it still worksperfectly, ending the disc on a note of politicism and melancholy.Simply put, this is a brilliant set, the one to beat for futurecompilers of eclectic mix discs.
Past volumes of !K7's DJ Kicks series have featured the estimable talents of Tiga, Playgroup's Trevor Jackson and Carl Craig, each taking their turn at the mixing table producing extended DJ mixes that combined newer underground club hits with classic dancefloor material and the odd crate-digging gem. They each had their moments, but for the most part, they were entirely predictable. I mean, who couldn't have guessed that Playgroup's mix would lean heavily on leftfield disco, or that Tiga would fill his set with uber-sassy electro? For me, the gratification of a great DJ mix lies in hearing unexpected juxtapositions of the alien and familiar, or unearthed vintage rarities recontextualized to sound modern. The new entry in the DJ Kicks series, mixed by Chicken Lips, delivers on this promise.
Chicken Lips eschew the notion of a continuous, danceable groove, focusing instead on all manner of retro-cheese, bizarro disco, boogie and psychedelic lounge to create an eclectic mix perfectly suited to headphone listening. In this sense, it shares more in common with DMC's artist-choice Back to Mine series. Chicken Lips are the British duo of Andrew Meecham and Dean Meredith, the same pair behind early-90's acid-house outfit Bizarre Inc. As Chicken Lips, Andy and Dean are masters of the disco-dub, a British movement utilizing loops of inane and/or obscure vintage dance sides. In a bid to prove their undying fascination with the Weird Groove, Chicken Lips open their unique set with the deeply odd kraut-lounge of Brainticket, one of the more eccentric of the 70's kosmische groups. This psychedelic oddity segues into Herbert's beautifully trippy re-assembling of Karin Krog's Northern Soul classic "Meaning of Love." Then Chicken Lips take a sharp right turn, dropping the novelty hip-hop of Jimmy Spicer's "The Bubble Bunch," which sounds uncannily like "The Bertha Butt Boogie" (fans of Rhino's Super Hits of the 70's will understand this reference). This madness somehow morphs into the proto-sampling of 4AD's Colourbox and the outrageously fucked rhythms of Nina Hagen's "African Reggae." An extended selection of mutant disco tracks pave the way for the esoteric house of The Paul Simpson Connection.
A short stop in the dusty dub of Rhythm and Sound and the phased avant-funk of The Raincoats' "Animal Rhapsody," and it's time to pull into Freak Station with the wacky Tropi-disco of George Duke's "Brazilian Love Affair" and Chicken Lips' own hard-hitting funk number "Bad Skin." It's an eclectic mix with loads of personality, and the best DJ Kicks yet, methinks.
The first volume of Serie Noire on Belgium's Eskimo Recordings was subtitled Dark Pop and New Beat.That mix was one of my favorites, with an impressive clarity of visionthat imagined a postmodern combination of great, forgotten 80's newwave (Vicious Pink and Executive Slacks), post-punk disco (Section 25),hilariously unexpected selections from seemingly off-topic artists (TheAlan Parsons Project and John Carpenter) and newer material thatslotted in perfectly (Metro Area). Serie Noire 2 is a sequel inname only, sharing none of the impeccable taste in track selection andseamless mixing that characterized the first mix. The tracks on Serie Noire 2are mostly uninspired, many of them wearing out their welcome after aminute or two, suggesting that The Glimmer Twins need to become morecomfortable with The Fader Button. Many of the tracks chosen for Serie Noire 2are of questionable worthiness, which tends to happen if you've beencrate-digging a little too long: eventually, you reach the bottom ofthe crate. Boytronic's "Bryllyant" opens the set, a mildly divertinggloomy electro track straight out of Miami Vice. It's the soundtrack toCrockett and Tubbs coked up, exploring each other's bodies. This seguesinto a couple of best-forgotten 80's acts - Savage Process andBlancmage - the former a crappy industrial-pop group trying to soundsexy, the latter a hopelessly cheesy new romantic band. Die Warzau is apoor man's Nitzer Ebb, and Nitzer Ebb were already a poor man's SkinnyPuppy, so their track "Strike To The Body" is about as awful as itgets. Congratulations to The Glimmer Twins for being the millionthrecent dance mix to include Liaisons Dangereuses' "Peut etre...Pas."Liaisons' self-titled LP was released in 1981, but its recent reissuehas made it far more popular now than it ever was in its own day.Giorgio Moroder's "Evolution" is one of the more boring rock-discotracks I've heard from the usually talented producer. Sandy Steel'scover of Delta V's "Mind Your Own Business" has some of the samefeminist energy as the original, but I still prefer the Chicks on Speedversion. P.I.L.'s "Death Disco" is one of the rawest punk-funk tracksfrom back in the day, but the "Megga Mix" included here renders it allbut unrecognizable. Some rather pathetic German new-wave bands end themix; nothing remarkable. Deejay Gigolos' recent New Deutschcompilation was uneven, but for my money, it was much more successfulat unearthing obscure German funk and industrial than these guys.Recent personal-choice compilations and mixes such as Ladytron's Softcore Jukebox and Felix Da Housecat's Bugged In have done a much better job of remaining interesting for their entire length. Serie Noire 2 is a waste of my time.
