Piezo sensor and contact speaker attached on rear side of each plate
Amplifying and mirroring their subtle and naturally occurring vibrations
Evoking the characteristic resonant frequencies of each type of metal
The sound art of Jacob Kirkegaard explores ways to reflect on immediate complex, unnoticed or unapproachable aspects of the human condition or civilisation. His works have treated themes such as radioactivity in Chernobyl and Fukushima, melting ice in the Arctic, border walls in Palestine, and tones - otoacoustic emissions - generated from the actual human ear.
Currently Jacob Kirkegaard works on two projects, one on the sound of global waste and waste management. The other on sound environments related to the immediate human post mortem.
With his peculiar alchemist approach and extensive research, complex phenomena and current conditions are portrayed through composition, installation, video and photography. Rather than providing answers, his portrayals create spaces for reflection.
Kirkegaard has presented his works at galleries, museums, biennales and concert spaces throughout the world, including MoMA in New York, LOUISIANA - Museum of Modern Art and ARoS in Denmark, The Menil Collection and at the Rothko Chapel in Houston, The Sydney Biennale in Australia, Aichi Triennale in Nagoya, the Mori Art Museum in Tokyo, Japan.
More information can be found here.
"When I was a child I lived in a small house on the outskirts of a small village in Sardinia.
The house was located 100 meters from the countryside (close to San Gavino Monreale castle).
I spent my whole childhood playing and exploring all these uninhabited places, sometimes there were dangers but the love for nature was much stronger.
This song and its artwork reflect those beautiful moments spent with my dearest and old friends in those magnificent places where human beings have not yet built anything."
-Andrea Porcu
More information can be found here.
Always enigmatic, the latest work from David Jackman is a single 47 minute piece that, for some reason, has been issued under his own name rather than Organum. I have never been clear as to what determines the name that will go on the record, and this is the first Jackman release since a split 7" (with Organum) in 2005. Additionally, the overall feel of the piece is distinct, but not far removed from the Amen/Sanctus/Omega trilogy from 2006-2007. Deliberately minimalist in arrangement, but with an unquestionable dedication to the finest detail of sounds, it is another work of fascinating beauty by the legendary artist.
Herbstsonne (german for Auutum Sun) is a sparse composition, recorded only using tanpura, piano, organ, and bells, and is performed rather deliberately, with Jackman leaving long, open spaces between the sounds of each instrument.On the whole the piece features recurring themes:the tanpura and organ being used to create expansive tones, with the bells scattered throughout.The piano tends to appear in heavy, loud outbursts of single chords, sometimes jarring in volume but complementing everything else perfectly.
There may not be an immediate sense of complexity to Herbstsonne, but Jackman's arrangement does an amazing job at highlighting the minute details of each instrument.The metallic twang of the tanpura expands into space, blended with the sustained organ sounds.There is little in the way of effects or treatment to the sound; I only hear reverb which may just be part of the actual recording, so there is a distinct purity in sound.Some subtle panning adds some dynamics to the recording, but on its own it still sounds amazing.The same goes for the bells, which echo out beautiful in each and every appearance they make.
I could not help but be reminded of the Amen trilogy in both the simple arrangements and the precise detail in each instrument, but there is a different mood here.That amazing trilogy, while not explicitly religious or spiritual in nature, did have a sensibility rooted in ancient holy music, presented in a very abstract setting.There does not seem to be that same underlying feel here, and is instead one that seems more rooted in nature itself.Autumn sun is a fitting title, because there is a sense of warmth from the tonal passages and the occasional chill of bells or abrupt piano chord that heralds the coming of winter.
With constant Internet speculation that each new release may be his last, I always feel a surge of excitement when a new Organum or David Jackman release is announced, and Herbstsonne did not disappoint.With a casual listen this may seem like a simple piece, but like all of Jackman's work, the attention to detail he works into the recording is apparent with intent listening and makes for some of the most engrossing music I have heard all year.
samples:
The town of Clifton Park, New York, does not have anything resembling an experimental music scene, other than the basement studio of Mike Griffin. Under the Parashi name, he has been building up an impressive catalog of releases running the gamut from ambient spaciousness to pummeling distortion. These two collaborative releases make it clear how well his personal brand of electronic mangling works alongside another artist as well, and with a contrast from Anthony Pasquarosa's largely guitar-focused work and the darker electronics of Noise Nomads, showcases his versatility.
On the two-disc collaboration with Pasquarosa, Griffin's electronics provide a synthetic counterpoint to Pasquarosa's largely stringed instrument contributions, making for an excellent juxtaposition of conventional versus unconventional instrumentation."Ursus Minor" opens the first disc in a rather contemplative space, with complex guitar workbalanced by some sparse bass guitar and then scraping noises, but with a mix that is rather open and pleasant."Iron to Gold" is another case in which the pair keep things light, constructed from largely just intertwining guitar playing from Pasquarosa and some six string bass from Griffin.
At the other extreme would be something like "Three Sided Coin," where Griffin cranks up the pedals to create some excellent chugging electronics and Pasquarosa throws some heavy distortion and feedback on to his guitar playing to make for a harsher, yet warm and enveloping sound overall.On "Set the Timer for Last Days" there is a similar feel, with distorted rock freakouts on guitar and swelling electronics coming together with a feel that is overall looser and more free feeling compared to the deliberate performances that surround it.
The mood also varies significantly from piece to piece, such as on the frightening drones of "Ashes in the Well," in which Griffin’s crackling electronics oscillate between subtle punctuations and heavy walls.Pasquarosa’s guitar at the onset of "Times Filter (Repaired)" is initially almost new age-y in tone, but is transformed via multiple echoes and delays, and the menacing foghorn like electronics in the background keep it from becoming too airy.The darkness on "Tombstone Chips" is less menacing in nature though, and the ghostly guitar tone and haunted house ambience make it more of a '60s campfilm soundtrack than a horror one, and bonus points for the Flavor Flav/Public Enemy reference in the title.
samples:
For Sluice Gate, Griffin teamed up with Noise Nomads (aka Jeff Hartford) in a less contrasting arrangement, as both work primarily with electronics.Comparably these are also more varied, dynamic compositions where the two layer a multitude of different, often hard to distinguish sounds into complex mixes, such as the opening title piece.From an introduction of sinister amp hum and clinking bottles, Hartford and Griffin layer on passages of crunchy loops and bending frequencies, getting a bit spacier in the closing minutes.
On "Their Cherished Pseudopods," the two create a mass of sputtering electronic tweets and pulsations, and with the erratic bursts of static and noisier segments there is a sense of movement throughout that only relents in the closing moments via an orchestra of slowed down cassette tapes.The collaboration’s bleakest moments occur on "Knacker's Yard," where some pseudo-rhythmic loops collide with pounding metal and decaying tapes, casting the whole thing with a dark clang.The subsequent "Among the Vipers" is less menacing and more bizarre in sound.The duo mangle a variety of synthetic tones, twisting them in an oddly open mix punctuated with strange organic sounds.The whole thing is wonderfully erratic and as things come apart become weirder and weirder.
Taking these two collaborations in together made me appreciate Mike Griffin's work with Parashi even more than I already did.Being familiar with his solo releases, hearing how he collaborated with two distinctly different artists demonstrated not only his versatility, but also how another artist impacts his performance.The set with Anthony Pasquarosa makes it clear how he can both support a more conventional performer with his electronics, and also his ability to bounce off a guitarist like a jazz soloist would, trading their distinctly different sounds while still making for a unified piece.With Noise Nomads, there is more of a band feeling for lack of a better term.Rather than a sense of playful conflict within the instrumentation, the two work alongside each other seemingly as a single unit, layering electronic passages that seemingly become more and more abstract as the pieces continue on.The full range of Griffin's performance and compositional abilities shine through here, and with the other artists doing their own thing so well, the final products are fascinating works.
This latest collection from Analog Africa is another detour of sorts, as curators Samy Ben Redjeb and Carlo Xavier headed to Brazil for a very deep dive into the underheard musical treasures of Belém. The genres covered (Carimbó, Samba-De-Cacete, Siriá, Bois-Bumbás and bambiá) were all entirely new to me, but I felt better when I learned that they were all fairly new to Redjeb as well. Characteristically, however, he was drawn to the Amazon-bordering coastal city due to its unique collision of cultures and therein lies the African connection: Belém was a crucial port for the sugar, coffee, and rubber trades, which resulted in plenty of West African slaves being sent to the region. Those that managed to escape often fled to outlaw settlements called quilombos where African religions and cultural traditions established a tenacious foothold (including those of Redjeb's beloved Benin). Naturally, those cultures evolved into something unique over the years and the best pieces on Jambú capture quite a wonderful marriage of relentlessly propulsive Brazilian grooves and African rhythms (though the latter is not quite as prominent as I would have expected).
As is this case with all Analog Africa compilations, the tales told in Jambú's liner notes are every bit as intriguing and colorful as the actual music (sometimes even more so).In this case, the story mostly takes place in November 2012, as Xavier and Redjeb arrived in Belém for a month of scavenging for rare and forgotten records and the even harder-to-find musicians that made them.Redjeb was primarily searching for work by Mestre Cupijo, who was responsible for revolutionizing the quilombo-descended Siriá style through the incorporation of mambo and merengue influences.The "first ever recording of modern Siriá" ("Despepida," recorded in 1973) is included here as the album's closer and it is indeed quite a striking piece, resembling a sultrier, sexier take on big band mambo.Sadly, Redjeb did not get to interview Cupijo, who had just passed away a few months before, but he did find some great albums and meet some unique people.And the search began in a similarly unique place: the Ver-o-Peso, which is purportedly the largest open-air market in South America.Redjeb describes it as "the pounding heart of the city," but also notes the "unbearable heat," "excruciating smell," and the "hundreds of disturbed vultures loudly arguing over a piece of rotten meat."I was similarly charmed by the description of one of the record dealers the pair encountered who would spend hours "restoring" record covers with pen, pencil, and brush because "a good cover would considerably increase the price of the record."
Aside from Cupijó, Redjeb singles out a trio of other artists who had a profound impact in modernizing the music of the region: Verequete, Orlando Pereira, and Pinduca.While Pinduca’s opening "Vamos Farrear" unquestionably boasts one of the album’s most insistent and smoldering grooves, it did not strike me as particularly unusual (it is just extremely good).The other two artists, on the other hand, are a much more eclectic and revelatory find.Verequete, in particular, is by far my favorite artist on the album.A former butcher and lumberjack with a nickname borrowed from "a vodun (divinity)" in "the jejes-nagos cults of Mina," Verequete was devoted to traditional styles of Carimbó.Apparently, that is what I am into, as the two Verequete pieces on Jambú are raucously thumping and clattering percussion workouts with little more than a banjo and a saxophone as accompaniment."Da Garrafa uma pinga" is probably the most wild and fun song on the album.Orlando Pereira's work, on the other hand, is a bit more hooky and musical, but no less vibrant.Also, the percussion unexpectedly shares the focus with some great flute solos and organ motifs.The latter is especially usual, as the less-than-ideal availability of electricity in the region is a recurring theme in the interviews with the artists.Aside from the four central visionaries anchoring the album, a few other artists make strong impressions simply by virtue of impressively tight and explosive ensembles.Os Muiraquitãns' "A Misturada" is especially wonderful, as it is a stomping and throbbing party of a song.Almost everything on the album is strong and distinctive in some way though, as only a couple of Pinduca's more funk-influenced pieces leave me cold.
Aside from the music, Jambú is also noteworthy for featuring the single craziest touring story that I have ever heard: as he was buying an Os Muiraquitãns record, Redjeb was informed by a record dealer that most of the band had perished in a boating accident that likely involved a drunken captain.When Redjeb met the band's Clorio Margahlo several years later, "the very surprised and amused" artist corrected the record: they had actually been riding to a gig in the back of a city council-provided dump truck (driven by drunk man with no dump truck license), but the end result was roughly the same.Fortunately, most of the band members had wisely decided to hitchhike to the show instead, so the casualty total could have been much higher than it was.While that tragedy is an extreme case, the varying fortunes of the artists that burned brightest in that mostly unknown regional scene make for fascinating and occasionally heartbreaking reading.For example, Verequete got repeatedly burned by record labels and had to abandon music to devote himself to selling barbequed food, while Mestre Vieira's death resulted in thousands of fans flooding the streets for a cacophonous funeral procession of blaring music and car horns.Knowing things like that definitely deepens my connection to this music and I love Redjeb for uncovering such biographical background–I cannot think of any other label that rivals Analog Africa in providing such a compelling and vivid musical history for each fresh release.As for the music itself, Jambú is not quite as revelatory as some of Redjeb's other collections, but it is quite a solid release packed with good songs and I will certainly be digging deeper into Verequete's oeuvre.Analog Africa remains the gold standard for international music compilations.
Samples can be found here.
As befits the curious and unpredictable arc of His Name is Alive, this first installment of a planned trilogy of Warren Defever's adolescent/teenage tape experiments is a truly wonderful and bewildering revelation. Defever must have been one hell of a precocious 10-year-old back in 1979, as his formula of combining field recordings, copious reverb, and samples of records played at the wrong speeds would have easily been strong enough to build an entire career on–I daresay it was a positively Basinski-esque flash of inspiration. Instead, however, Defever opted to move onto more song-based work and this side of his artistry was relegated to some dusty, long-forgotten boxes, which I suppose worked out quite well too. These lovely, haunted sounding soundscapes would have made quite a huge impression if they had been released during the band's 4AD heyday though: the liner notes amusingly suggest that Defever accidentally invented shoegaze while trying to make new age music. Fortunately, these elegantly blurred miniatures still sound absolutely wonderful today, even if the window has passed in which Defever might have been hailed as one of the most important and influential voices in ambient music (or as a proto-Slowdive shoegaze savant).
To a large degree, All The Mirrors in the House sounds much too good to be true, as it is hard to wrap my mind around the fact that some kid in Michigan was making better ambient music than Brian Eno in the early '80s.That caveat will likely appear in every single review of this album and for good reason (there is even a healthy degree of disbelief expressed in Mike McGonigal's liner notes).Warren Defever has been a willfully mischievous and unreliable narrator at times and it is not unreasonable to think that there is some deliberate myth-building behind this release.If there was, it certainly worked on me, as I was very eager to hear it.According to Defever, however, the only post-production magic worked upon these recordings was "the overlapping of the songs for flow" (though he also notes "I really can't remember how any of it was made, or exactly when.").By any measure, these songs sound improbably and suspiciously clean and contemporary.And it is damn hard to imagine a pre-teen with a guitar sampler and a boombox anticipating the evolution of underground music by years, much less doing it this skillfully.Still, I would not put it past a teenage Defever to genuinely have been this advanced at manipulating recordings, as he is a legitimate studio visionary and that did not simply happen overnight.Also, limited resources tend to inspire innovative methods.Anything is possible, I guess.In all likelihood, Defever's backstory is probably at least true in spirit, as this album does not bear much resemblance to any of Defever's other recent releases.Also, the stylistic leap from these pieces to the earliest HNIA albums is not a improbably huge one.
It would probably be apt to say that this album is the result of three perfect sets of circumstances spanning more than three decades and could not exist if any one piece to did come together just right.The first, obviously, is that Defever acquired a tape recorder and began ingeniously misusing it immediately.The second is that he grew up in a religious household, so the record collection that he was raiding for his sound collages was an eclectic array of "folksongs, polkas, and waltzes."Most kids probably would have just borrowed their older brother's Zeppelin and Sabbath albums and devoted themselves to starting a rock band.Defever also stumbled upon a CBC show in the mid-80s (Brave New Waves) that awakened his ears to fringe-dwellers like Psychic TV, so he certainly had a host of eclectic influences rewiring his brain during those years.The final key puzzle piece is that the adult Warren Defever is singularly adept at assembling compelling and gorgeously hallucinatory album-length collages of short vignettes (1992's Home is in Your Head being easily one of my favorite HNIA albums).Also of note: Defever had some curatorial assistance from Tyvek’s Shelley Salant, which likely played an indispensable role in distilling only the most sublime moments from the dozens of old tapes (he instructed her to specifically search for anything that was "new agey, ambient, or had echoey guitars"). Defever also jokingly suggested that McGonigal use lots of adjectives taken from Slowdive's wikipedia page in order to appeal to today's kids.
Significantly, Defever's distance from these recordings enabled him to have the perspective necessary for shaping them into such a deliberate and fully-formed vision.There are probably many different directions that this collection could have gone, but he chose to present these years as something beautiful, ghostly, and bittersweetly dreamlike (an aesthetic that is even more pronounced in the album's eerie trailer).While these fifteen pieces amount to quite a mesmerizing and emotionally resonant whole, there is a purity and simplicity to the individual pieces that makes their purported provenance seem arguably plausible: each piece seems to be built on just a single theme and some reverb (though Defever purportedly mimicked multitracking with strategically placed boomboxes).For example, "Because Piano" seems totally believable as a bit of Defever's juvenilia, as it is just a minor key piano melody layered and reverb-ed into a lushly wobbly soundscape."Tape Slow" achieves a similar feat, as it is impossible to tell what the raw material behind the shivering, smeared reverie possibly could have been (tape experimentation at its finest).Some of the other pieces are much harder to swallow as authentic remnants from the '80s though, particularly "Liadin" and the closing "F Choir."Both are swooning, shimmering, and angelically beautiful miniature masterpieces.In fact, the latter approximates an Arvo Pärt piece remixed by someone like Tim Hecker.The shuffling and hypnagogic groove of "Outside The Window" is similarly striking–it is only a mere thirty seconds long, but it sounds like it could have been plucked from a cutting-edge dub album released this year.Yet another highlight is "Something About Hope," which masterfully intertwines looping guitars to approximate something that could have been a stand-out on 1993's Mouth By Mouth.
While I cannot shake my skepticism about the veracity of the album's backstory and timeline, it genuinely delights me to think about a young Warren Defever gleefully deconstructing polkas and making beatscapes out of his neighbor shoveling the driveway.Ultimately, however, how and when Defever made these recordings is far less important than the fact that All The Mirrors In The House is a legitimately wonderful album that reminds me exactly why I grew to love His Name Is Alive in the first place.While it is always interesting and unique, Defever's output in recent years has been increasingly inscrutable, prickly, and prone to excess (or at least to outsized ambitions).As such, an understated, intimate, and quietly beautiful album like this one is hugely welcome.All The Mirrors in the House is a flawlessly crafted release and Defever's curatorial and sequencing instincts were unerring: there are many truly wonderful pieces here and they all flow together seamlessly in an immersive and poignant spell that never breaks or wavers.In fact, I actually wish this album was longer, as it goes by so quickly that I find myself immediately restarting it as soon as it ends.Not many albums have that effect on me these days.Happily, I will likely get my wish when the rest of this trilogy eventually surfaces, but for now All The Mirrors in the House has definitively joined the ranks of Defever's strongest and most distinctive albums.
Samples can be found here.
Thanks again to everyone who contributed to this year's readers poll and has over the last two decades. All the best wishes for 2019!
Less Bells
"Texan-born multi-instrumentalist Julie Carpenter is based in Joshua Tree, California. Over the years she has toured as a violinist with Eels, Spiritualized, and Love, and is credited on releases from Transona Five, The Autumns, Lavender Diamond, and many more. Her gorgeous debut as Less Bells, Solifuge, is unlike any of the above and showcases her talents as a composer unifying the organic with the electronic, and easily one of my favorites of the year." - Jon Whitney
Low
"I first got into Low around the time of Trust and they blew me away then. Working back through their catalogue at the time was a joy and each album since was a gift. They consistently performed some of the best live shows I've witnessed (including a cathartic and much needed Christmas concert in Dublin's Christchurch Cathedral a couple of years ago). They also appear to be really, really nice people. What more could you ask for in a band?" - John Kealy
"Low appeared at a perfect time for me, releasing I Could Live in Hope at the height of my obsession with slow-motion melancholia, but they were different enough to stick with me long after that phase had passed. At some point, however, I started to take them for granted and stopped buying their albums. I never stopped viewing them as a beacon of integrity, soul, sincerity, and excellent songwriting in a sea of forgettable bands, forgettable trends, and general shallowness, but my tastes had changed and their body of work had started to blur together for me (though the trickle of truly great songs never ceased). This year's Double Negative was a wonderful reminder that bands contain actual people and that those people can evolve and change too. It was a striking late-career creative breakthrough, but it still maintains the sublime essence that makes (and made) Low so vital in the first place." -Anthony D'Amico
"A quarter century into their career and they continue to defy expectations. I have been in love with their songs for over two decades and they continue to astound me both on record and in concert. They have gone from the band that sounds like they're playing in your kitchen, to the band in the Gap ad, to the band that makes you uneasy enough to not want to share with anyone else, to the band that makes something so abstract that listening results in more questions than answers. In these tumultuous times where cruelty is so painfully ubiquitous, Low reacted with a statement that made us all stop in our tracks and listen. Now that's power. " - Jon Whitney
A monograph made in the Winter of 2018, with a microscopic camera, paints, pens, and ultra-marine powder. Texts are hung throughout the book; revering dreams of night, sea life, and the fluid of romance. Includes an audio cassette to coat the reading experience. A perfume I concocted (seaweed, tobacco, and moss points) scents each book.
166 color pages, 8.5″ x 10″ perfect bound
Scented with “Stupid Fish” perfume
Comes with 30-minute cassette of music made for the book
Limited edition of 18 copies, signed and numbered
More information can be found here.
"The first time I called myself a 'Witch' was the most magical moment of my life... dare to look within yourself and you are a Witch." - M. Adler
"Underneath it all is an appreciation of nature." - Kenneth Anger
This 2-disc set of recordings includes 10 new compositions, one never physically released track ("Totality") plus 5 favorites together in a single collection. With the right intentions one or more of these works can serve as aids down your own path of study, discovery, practice, and enlightenment.
More information can be found here.
Slow, methodical organ recordings on this major new work from Kali Malone; a quietly subversive double album featuring almost two hours of concentrated, creeping organ pieces governed by a strict acoustic and compositional code with ultimately profound emotional resonance.
The Sacrificial Code takes a more surgical approach to the methods first explored on last year's Organ Dirges 2016 - 2017. Over the course of three parts performed on three different organs, Malone's minimalist process captures a jarring precision of closeness, both on the level of the materiality of the sounds and on the level of composition. The recordings here involved careful close miking of the pipe organ in such a way as to eliminate environmental identifiers as far as possible - essentially removing the large hall reverb so inextricably linked to the instrument. The pieces were then further compositionally stripped of gestural adornments and spontaneous expressive impulse - an approach that flows against the grain of the prevailing musical hegemony, where sound is so often manipulated, and composition often steeped in self indulgence. It echoes Steve Reich's sentiment "..by voluntarily giving up the freedom to do whatever momentarily comes to mind, we are, as a result, free of all that momentarily comes to mind."
With its slow, purified and seemingly austere qualities, The Sacrificial Code guides us through an almost trance-inducing process where we become vulnerable receptors for every slight movement, where every miniature shift in sound becomes magnified through stillness. As such, it's a uniquely satisfying exercise in transcendence through self restraint - a stunning realisation of ideas borne out of academic and conceptual rigour which gradually reveals startling personal dimensions. It has a perception-altering quality that encourages self exploration free of signposts and without a preordained endpoint - the antithesis to the language of colourless musical platitudes we've become so accustomed to.
More information can be found here and here.
Lena Andersson is a fictional character created by Berlin-based Japanese artist Kyoka and Irish producer Eomac. Both met in 2016 during a residency at the Stockholm EMS studios. The initial spark of their collaboration was a joint session on the studio's Buchla system, later expanding to multiple other sound sources and instruments at sessions in the Etopia studio in Zaragoza supported by Fuga.
During the improvisations, a call-and-response working principle emerged immediately which joins the special talents of both musicians. Kyoka's free and experimental approach forms part of the source material that is contrasted with Eomac's skillful editing; unconventional reflections face a driving force. From Kyoka's extensive field recording collection, an arabesque of disturbing vocal fragments arises that is set against Eomac's hard rhythmic framework, as in "Das Tier," for instance. "37 Years Later" or "Mystic" live on a vivid texture that has been condensed directly at the mixing console into a kind of dramaturgical capturing of the moment. The immediacy of the collaboration forms the basis for a synergy of the individual production techniques. A strategy that lacks neither absolute creative freedom nor an awareness of musical function.
Söder Mälarstrand thus captures an intuitive cooperation between the two producers, which also refers back to the place of origin through its dialogical, moment-related production principle. The album title is a tribute to the Stockholm studios where the project began.
More information can be found here.