Being thankful for an earful.
Brand new music by Marie Davidson, Niecy Blues (feat. Joy Guidry), CEL, Marisa Anderson and Luke Schneider, Stina Stjern, Carmen Villain, Murcof, A Lily, and Far Golden Pavilions, with music from the vaults by Tomaga, Ozzobia, Jan Jelinek.
Sushi photo by Lindsay.
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This CD is a treasure trove, mother lode, holy grail and the missinglink in the fossil record of electronic music. Kurenniemi'sachievements in the design of revolutionary instruments stand apartboth in the technical aspects and in how they introduced radically newways of making music. The recordings on this CD show just how far aheadof his time he was. It includes his own musical creations, somepromotional material for the instruments he tried to sell, someexperiments and a couple of collaborations. The breadth of the materialis so big, from sequenced Bach through tape collage to improvised tapeand feedback noise performance, that I can only mention a few. Theopening two tracks are crucial for Pan Sonic fans. They feature hisElectronic Quartet (Sähkökvartetti), a device with four instruments inone, and a huge, outrageously 90s sound. (If you doubt that Kurenniemiwas responsible for the Pan Sonic sound, try a little web research.)Kurenniemi's psychedelic tape collage, "Hana," is beautifully ugly anddream-like while the more academic sounding "Preludi" is a piercingmechanical composition in mutating repeating phrases and freeglissandi. "Virsi," another collage piece, shows off the composer'srather Finnish taste for the absurd as well as for the abstract,combining electronic sounds, various samples of voices, movies andmusic with tape effects, a long soaring multi-tone glissando, awonderful plaintive deep feedback solo. Among all the dazzlinginvention and sophistication throughout the CD it's the earliestrecording that I love the most. Inspired by the massive turbines of apower plant, "On-Off" is a live recording of Kurenniemi's manipulatingall the equipment at Helsinki University's Electronic Music Studio atonce. It's all noise with a whirring, throbbing texture, wild feedback,ripping slashes of sound and massive dynamics all with an evocativetight acoustic ambience. This absolutely brilliant recording could wellbe the prototype of modern improvised noise art performance.
Sorry to be the bearer of brutal truth yet again, but here goes: noiseis boring. No other known genre consists of nearly the number ofcompletely talentless assholes as noise does—not even metal! Full ofextreme tedium and seemingly unyielding emulation, the music's onlysalvation apparently comes in the form of the "originators" and the"permutators." Originators like Masami Akita (known best as Merzbow)planted the seeds and populated the genre. His own prolific outputyielded countless clones worldwide, all the while passing them bythrough revolution of medium and delivery systems as well as sound(recall the infamous car installation or the 18 CD rubber boxset).While far from innocent of releasing a significant number of unexcitingalbums over the years, Akita regularly ups the ante just enough to stayrelevant in a time where there are more useless players than ever. Satanstornade,his collaborative project with Mego artist and "permutator" RussellHaswell, is one of those releases that will keep him from fading intorelic status. Composed exclusively on two Powerbooks with unnamed,various software programs, this album celebrates the relativelyuntapped digital realm of noise. Recorded live to MiniDisc, these fourtracks show two men duking it out in anonymity, pummeling eardrums andsquealing electronically over the course of 48 viscious minutes. Thoughsonically similar, the compositions make for an interesting, albeitdifficult, listening experience. I strongly recommend giving the albuma nonstop listen to achieve the full effect. So while countlessjerkoffs continue in their attempts to recycle Music For Bondage Performance ad nauseum, Akita and Haswell successfully resuscitate the terminal patient known as noise with this blistering workout.
Sorry to be the bearer of brutal truth yet again, but here goes: noiseis boring. No other known genre consists of nearly the number ofcompletely talentless assholes as noise does—not even metal! Full ofextreme tedium and seemingly unyielding emulation, the music's onlysalvation apparently comes in the form of the "originators" and the"permutators." Originators like Masami Akita (known best as Merzbow)planted the seeds and populated the genre. His own prolific outputyielded countless clones worldwide, all the while passing them bythrough revolution of medium and delivery systems as well as sound(recall the infamous car installation or the 18 CD rubber boxset).While far from innocent of releasing a significant number of unexcitingalbums over the years, Akita regularly ups the ante just enough to stayrelevant in a time where there are more useless players than ever. Satanstornade,his collaborative project with Mego artist and "permutator" RussellHaswell, is one of those releases that will keep him from fading intorelic status. Composed exclusively on two Powerbooks with unnamed,various software programs, this album celebrates the relativelyuntapped digital realm of noise. Recorded live to MiniDisc, these fourtracks show two men duking it out in anonymity, pummeling eardrums andsquealing electronically over the course of 48 viscious minutes. Thoughsonically similar, the compositions make for an interesting, albeitdifficult, listening experience. I strongly recommend giving the albuma nonstop listen to achieve the full effect. So while countlessjerkoffs continue in their attempts to recycle Music For Bondage Performance ad nauseum, Akita and Haswell successfully resuscitate the terminal patient known as noise with this blistering workout. 
It has never been more clear that David Tibet lives in a completely idiosyncratic sphere of his own. Perhaps this is true for everyone, but Tibet's world seems particularly out of step with current trends in music, culture and thought. There is something terribly admirable and beguiling about that. Hypnagogue beautifully proves that Current 93 is continuing in its tangential orbit, and exists solely as the outlet for Tibet's poetic musings on Christ, cats, children, dreams, piety, horror, death, dread, decay and apocalypse. You're not going to find any concessions to glitch-pop or retro-electro here.PanDurtro
This EP is designed to be a prologue to an upcoming full length, and it consists of nine tracks or "chapters" of a long poem called, appropriately, "Hypnagogue: A Dream Prologue." Like many of Current 93's recent works, it's impossible to rate this album based on the music alone, which is mostly incidental. The main focus is on the poetry, and if the listener is not willing to carefully absorb Tibet's linguistic imagery, the point of the music is lost. The musical accompaniment is minimal: Maja Elliott's impressionistic, Debussy-esque piano is the sole instrument. Her sad, skittering melodies serve to underscore Tibet's rhymeless, alliterative balladry. There are times when the piano brilliantly punctuates a passage, and others where its complex swirl of sound competes with Tibet's intense delivery. David Tibet is an impressive poet, his style remiscent of mystical and abstruse poets like T.S. Eliot, W.B. Yeats, and even Angus MacLise. The poesy is modern, but certainly not post-modern. There is no irony in Tibet's fatalistic prose, just a classic weaving of idiosyncratic metaphors that may or may not resonate, depending on the listener's willingness to listen and think about the complex symbolism. Like a true classical poet, Tibet even slips into Latin verse here and there. As a bonus, there is a web address on the inside cover where a PDF of the accompanying text can be downloaded, so that one can read along. From the topiary bunny on the cover to the obscure magical glyph at the front of the text, Current 93 and David Tibet defiantly resist any easy categorization. Though I fully expect that many people will find Hypnagogue hopelessly esoteric and even self-indulgent, I feel that it is a beatiful and unique work of art.
If a keyboard cowboy steals your voice it might just serve your server right for trying to read and burn the last of the Mohicans. With one foul swoop Colin Newman proclaims punk rock meaningless and declares the joy of his latest bastard 'heavy metal dancefloor' bad vibing it up like there's no tomorrow. Those four negative horsemen Wire celebrate the art of stopping, which is where it's at - addictive repetitive mega-riffing retooled on hardrive and nailed down fast in paranoiac fits.Pink Flag
There is a lot of stopping but the big diginoise always starts up instantly, fleet of foot chasing rising temperatures. Three songs from this apocalyptic refraction of doomed cyber-slavery and secondhand information overload will have already battered your damaged drums long ago on the EP Read and Burn 01. Another trio burnt bright on the second 'close to creation cycle' six-song lowdown late last year, and the insanely catchy "Nice Streets Above," which is Send's only really upbeat tune, is lengthened a minute and seems to have gained more deep bass groove. This track was an early junkyard rifling in which Graham Lewis sampled and mangled a snatch of Colin Newman singing "Drill," but the mutation would be nigh on impossible to spot. Mutation is constantly hovering ghostlike behind many of the vicious scenes of Send. Cyclic evolution merges man and machine, catalogued obtusely in the closing pulsating monster "99.9" which might well be the most powerful track Wire have ever created, diving off sonar into unknown voids.
The longest track is heralded by the shortest, a rare vocal appearance for that funny ol'professor of noise Bruce Gilbert, whose voice is buried in incomprehensible swathes of distortion as "Half Eaten" bounces gamely by on a jagged big beat tip flashing vivid images of burning oil wells into the listening mindbrain. This ravaged track is a wartorn counterpoint to Lewis' internet reportage machine-metal ode to the liberation of oppressed ladies, "The Agfers of Kodack." They do not take kindly to religious extremism and build up inexorably to find it "Spent" with drills and emergency alarm bells blaring against quick fix. No that isn't Killing Joke, sir. Amongst the four totally new songs, "Mr Marx's Table" will be familar to anyone who crossed the line and came a long way for a short stay at a Wire gig last year, but they've sped it up and remuscled it with hardwired precision.
The weakest new one, and probably the weakest track on the album, is "Being Watched" which has slightly corny lyrics wherein some voyeur junkie protagonist wants Big Brother to spy on him in what is essentially a remake of "Take It" but sounds much more in tune with eighties Wire than any other featured track. Even if you'd like to give it up you'd never have the choice with a track of such ominous doom laden brilliance as "You Can't Leave Now" where a metaphorical restaurant is ransacked by Greedy as the Devil Dogs are set loose to deface him. The trap is sprung but there is a way out. All across the planet fires burn high as Wire fans blow up their computers in a ritual spew. Maybe guitars will be the instruments of the future after all? This album is so good it'd be worth annihilating 99.9 per cent of the human race to hear it, but luckily thanks to the arch kindness of the Newman you don't have to do that and if you buy it from posteverything.com they'll chuck in a bonus CD of Wire decimating Chicago last year. It's not hard to hear another unique event. Does that road ahead look quite uncertain? -
The straight-ahead pop music on this German trio's self-titled secondrelease tends to be based on the instrumentation of bass, drums, guitarand vocals with a leaning towards some electronic augmentation.Although the presence of synthesizer can be fairly liberal at timeswith a hint of drum machine, there's no great risk of it being overusedas it always seems appropriate within the context. Their choices ofcertain chordal intervals paired with obvious guitar and synth patchesat times remind me of some of the more mainstream British bands of the80s, which is a good thing. "Untem im Strom" leads off the disc with achoppy, jangly guitar progression matched with vocals that sneaks inthe rhythm section on the upbeat to steadily drive the tune through itsmarked sections. Of the disc's ten tracks, the dance-pulsed, graduallyrocking "Tremble" would be the only one sung entirely in English withthe remainder mostly in the group's native tongue. The cadence of thevocal delivery for some numbers feels a bit awkward at first until themelody becomes the focal point and the music settles in around it. Thewhispy vocals, strummy acoustic guitar and plucked bass of "Hannover"is lead by a steady, puffy-snared drum machine while mild pianoflourishes and buzzing slide guitar trickle throughout. "Stop" thrashesalong to bursts of siren keyboards, pounding tom-toms and dirty basswhich shift from jagged to slick and back again within the span of itsseventy-five seconds. Go Plus' musicianship is solid and theirsongwriting style is fairly consistent from track to track with somefairly cool progressions and hooks. For the most part, these keyelements are underused but there are some worthwhile moments.
Hordes of NYC hipsters already know that the "mutant disco" punk/dancehybrid sound of the early 80's is experiencing a major resurgence ofinterest. The original heroes of the genre—bands like Liquid Liquid, 23Skidoo, A Certain Ratio, and Gang of Four—are being excavated andre-released. Inevitably, a legion of new artists are having a lot offun rediscovering these sounds and making their own form of retrodance/punk, with uneven results. Trevor Jackson's Output Recordings,home to a cadre of retro-disco and new-new-wave artists, have jumped onthis bandwagon in a big way. Trying to make their own 21st centuryversion of the seminal Disco not Disco compilation, Output has assembled some of the best songs and 12" mixes on the label for their Channel 2comp. The disc opens with 7 Hurtz' "Malibu," a shimmering retro-housetrack which tries (and fails) to sound like FPU's "Ocean Drive."Manhead's "Doop" is a fantastically corny bebop jazz-disco hybrid thatrecalls Miles Davis' ill-advised foray into dance and hiphop.Blackstrobe's dancefloor-stormer "Me and Madonna" is on the verge ofsounding like Gina X Performance's "Nice Mover," but eventuallydeclines into electroclash cliches. Possibly the best reason to buythis compilation is the only appearance of LCD Soundsystem's "Losing MyEdge" on CD. For those who don't already know, "Losing My Edge" is thefunniest, most infectious 12" dance single to be released in recentmemory. Over retardedly low-fi beatbox and bass hits, the DFA's JamesMurphy does a Mark E. Smith-style monologue boasting all of his hipstercredentials: he was there at the first Can show, he was there at theParadise Garage with Larry Levan, he was the first to play Daft Punk atCBGB's. At the end of the song, he yells out a hilarious roll-call ofevery so-called "hip" artist from the past thirty years: "This Heat,Pere Ubu, The Human League, The Normal, Lou Reed..." and etc. adnauseum. By removing the minor-key bassline andupping the disco quotient for their 12" re-recording of "Olio," NYCpunk-disco band The Rapture manage to sound a little less like The Curethan the song's first appearance on their debut Mirror. TheZongamin remix of Playgroup's underground dance hit "Make it Happen" isawesome, pushing the intensely rhythmic ESG-style sassiness that theoriginal only hinted at. Dempsey's "ODB on the Run" is a chaoticallyfunny avant-dance track about Big Baby Jesus' run-in with the law andthe disc ends with a weirdly out-of-place, laptop-treated guitar balladby The Boy Lucas. Like most compilations of this sort, this is aninconsistent listen with a few gems that may or may not be worth theprice.
I am definitely and unashamedly one of the legion of obsessive fans ofBrian Wilson. I wholeheartedly agree with all of the critics who nevertire of declaring Wilson a genius of pop songcraft and production. Ihave faithfully collected all the prime Beach Boys material—LPreissues, box sets, 45s, live albums, bootlegs, "Best Of" albums, etc.To my already absurd Wilson collection, I can now add this interestingarchival disc, recently released by Ace Records of London. Ace Recordsis a label for music collectors and junkies, specializing inre-releases of forgotten rock n' roll treasures and lost musicalexotica from the 18's and 60's. This disc may be their mostirresistable release yet, as it is the first to compile all of thenon-Beach Boys material produced by Brian Wilson in his sixties heyday.Someone has obviously gone to a lot of trouble to track down all thoserare 45s and lesser-known one-off projects. As an archival compilation,Pet Projectsis unparalleled. As a listening experience, however, the disc issomewhat more problematic. It is a pure pleasure to hear the first twotracks, a pair of Phil Spector-influenced teenage symphonies performedby Sharon Marie, a girlfriend of Beach Boy Mike Love. Wilson and Love'smediocre ballads are transformed by Brian's studio genius intoover-the-top orchestral blowouts, matching (and often exceeding) thebar set by Spector, Brian's hero and a huge influence on the evolutionof his studio sound. It's hard to remember that forty years before hestarted murdering B-movie actresses, Phil Spector was the innovator ofstudio-created, multi-layered pop masterpieces that influenced ageneration of producers. Spector and Wilson became the first "star"producers—their production genius was recognized as the primary elementof the music, more important than the song or the singer. Wilson andthree of his friends called themselves The Survivors, and cut a one-offsingle "Pamela Jean" with the instrumental b-side "After the Game." Thea-side recalls the classic Beach Boys sound of "Help Me, Rhonda," butthe b-side is an early preview of the complex, emotive instrumentaltracks that Brian would write and produce for Pet Sounds a couple yearslater. There is also a glimpse here of Brian Wilson, the acid casualty:Dean Torrance (of surf-pop duo Jan & Dean), using the fictitiousband name The Lauging Gravy, recorded a version of Brian's psychedelicbarbershop quartet song "Vegetables," originally recorded for thenever-completed Smile. The song sounds just as bizarre here as on the numerous Smilebootlegs. The rest of the disc is dominated by 45s released by Wilson'sgirl groups The Honeys, Rachel and the Revolvers and American Spring.Although most of these groups are long-forgotten for good reasons,there is a naive charm and excitement to songs like "Pray for Surf" and"He's a Doll" that recall everything that is wonderful and beguilingabout the girl groups of the early sixties. These songs would not beout of place on Music for Pussycats (the Boyd Rice-compiled love-letter to girl-group pop). Pet Projects is a unique, if somewhat frustrating, look back at the "lost" treasures of one of pop music's most fascinating talents. Silber
The many styles of Jon DeRosa are on full display these days, with new albums from Pale Horse and Rider and this project being released so close to each other. Where DeRosa is getting a lot of press these days for PHaR, it is Aarktica that started his journey into somber melodies, though for his latest, it seems the more song-like structure of the former informs the latter. Pure Tone Audiometryrefers to a hearing test that DeRosa had when he lost the hearing in his right ear several years ago. It is also the most rock-oriented of DeRosa's releases. Where previous Aarktica recordings were primarily drone and buzz, and PHaR very acoustic and downbeat, this music is full-sounding, almost playful in places, and very mapped-out. Sounds appear and disappear, spliced in and out with the skill of a surgeon, and everything dances around your ears like it was born to be there. The chilling vocals on the opening track almost drown out the science film wild track, and altogether it sounds like a chorus of technology, humanity, and the otherworldly. Elsewhere, the electro-pop returns, with electric guitar, programmed beats, and the sullen but liquid voice of DeRosa gracing the other tones. Then, real drums snap into focus, and the sound of a full band, something unheard of Aarktica releases, fills the speakers and pulses with raw energy. The harmony chorus vocals all over the record breathe real life into this material, so much so that it alone almost eclipses all his other work. This is not to say that DeRosa has left behind his old devices, as"Snowstorm Ruins Birthday" and "Water Wakes Dead Cells" clearly display. He has, however, found a growth, a leap forward, that was not expected, but certainly most welcome.
When I learned several months ago that Goldfrapp's forthcoming second album was to be titled Black Cherry,my first thought was how fitting of a title it would be. After fallingin love with the sweet, dark, succulent meoldies on their outstandingdebut, Felt Mountain, I anticipated hearing what the band hadbeen up to in the studio for the past two and a half years. It seemsthat in the interim, Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory have largelychanged their style. Straying from the moody, cinematic quality oftheir previous record, Black Cherry is a synth-driven,erotically-charged collection of songs combining Giorgio Moroder, Add Nto [X] and Olivia Newton-John circa 1979. Even Alison herself hasundergone a makeover: gone are the Heidi braids and muddy rubberboots—the eye-catching photo of her inside the sleeve reflects a crossbetween Elegant Gothic Lolita and Dorothy of Kansas.
