Plenty of new music to be had this week from Laetitia Sadier and Storefront Church, Six Organs of Admittance, Able Noise, Yui Onodera, SML, Clinic Stars, Austyn Wohlers, Build Buildings, Zelienople, and Lea Thomas, plus some older tunes by Farah, Guy Blakeslee, Jessica Bailiff, and Richard H. Kirk.
Lake in Girdwood, Alaska by Johnny.
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After about the third listen through, I noticed that this album seemed devoid of something. There comes a particular repertoire with each Piano Magic release, one you are just conditioned to expect based on their past works. But this new album did not seem to feature this repertoire. Gone are the perplexingly intricate sound collages which feature indecipherable instruments, sounding like they could be either computer-created noises or just esoteric analog instruments rummaged from the dusty bin of a thrift store.4AD
Also gone are the spooky hisses of distant winds punctuated by the delicate breathy speeches of a young English girl. I suppose if you were to look hard enough, you could still find instances of these, but they do not abound nor do they shape the sound of the band as they used to. Piano Magic has always been something of a collaborative effort, with Glen Johnson being the glue holding the collective together since its genesis in 1996. But within each album, there is generally a static nucleus of players, giving each respective album its own aura. 'Writers Without Homes,' however, manages to feature a revolving host of members on each separate song, denying any sort of cohesion to this record.
My main concern with album is its tedium. Each time I listen, I get lost, forget where I am, and even forget what I am listening to. This disorientation is not the good kind, either. The album starts off promisingly enough: "(Music Won't Save You From Anything But) Silence" slithers its way in silently but soon erupts into a cascading wall of guitar and percussion. The next few songs are harmless, as well, but by the fifth song, when nothing so far has really made an impression, I am painfully jarred back to acute awareness by "The Season is Long." As it turns out, the Season is about eight minutes too long, and John Grant from The Czars is the vocalist for the extent of it, creating a song which sounds like it was snatched from some lost Seal and Sting collaboration.
This is by far the low point (positionally, the mid point) of the album, but other songs are not strong enough to rescue this record from being swallowed up by the ocean which was once quite kind to Piano Magic, lending its solemn sounds of waves and buoys to some of the band's best songs. "Dutch Housing," with its French lyrics and staticky beats, sounds very much like a song by the Glen Johnson side project Textile Ranch. The one reassuring exception on the album is "Certainty," which stands toe to toe with the best Piano Magic songs. It starts abruptly with what sounds like the snapping in half of a healthy stalk of celery and gives way to an hypnotic looping keyboard part, eventually accompanied by Caroline Potter's haunting dialog and ending just as abruptly as it begins with the song effectively disintegrating. Given the sole success of this one song in contrast to the rest of the album, it's hard to think of 'Writers Without Homes' as much more than an overly robust CD single.
Steve Wilkes leads this ecletic group of percussionists who released their first record in 1997. Wilkes, former drummer for the Blue Man Group, wanted to create a sound that was based entirely in modern drumsets with different stylings. The members would create sound collages that would, in a way, force the drums to take on the different roles other instruments normally play in a band: one would be the voice, one the rhythm, one the interesting flourish, etc. It's certainly an interesting concept, that's for sure.
Hourglass Records
'Simmer' is their second effort, which expands on the concept by establishing themes for improvisational exploration, then allows each member to meld their own style into the mix. It's a difficult listen, one that you have to really be into to get. It is the mix of these styles that gives the music little hook for the listeners, but that can also be due to the fact that it's sometimes hard to get a handle on what's going on (what parts are being played by different drummers, and what the overall style is). It does, however, have some amazing moments: 'Sacred Smoke,' for instance, takes some very tribal rhythms and forces them with sheer power and cutting cymbal use. 'Six Hop,' on the other hand, is begging to be the backing track to an outstanding freestyle rap in a seedy, underground jazz club open mic night while the title track is nothing short of a revelation, as the band members all work together in such a fluid way that it blends into a blur of styles and rhythms. Six Drumsets is an interesting project with larger-than-life hopes that often confuses rather than amazes. What else can be expected from someone who used to be a Blue Man?
Infraction 'Ownliness' sounds like an experiment of sorts. Most all of the tracks are built upon looping rhythms and repeating phrases of simple melody. The album begins with a sampled loop that could be ethnic percussion as easily as it could be the sound of someone scraping a stick down a flight of stairs. More rhythms and a melody slip into the mix and then disappear into the looped field recording ambience of "With Anna You Get Eggroll," which later becomes a kind of psuedo-trip hop number. Sometimes the repetition manifests itself as full-on beats and songs, and other times, it simply serves as a cadence that roots the wandering tones and abstract noises like a ballast. In its more obscure moments, 'Ownliness' finds a balance between wandering and reflecting that allows the simple repetition and the experimental pallete to elevate the compositions into something complex enough to warrant repeated listens. In its more direct moments, the album sounds a bit like experimental guitarists trying to adopt a style or groove to their own way of working, and it is in these moments that the album doesn't always measure up. There's nothing embarassing about the songs that are more obviously structured, but they play into a stereotype of slow, manipulated drum loops and painfully simple melodies that never allow the repetition to transcend into something more. The layered melodies are sometimes bogged down by a breakbeat that seems out of place in a sea of otherwise strange and unidentifiable sounds. Still, it's highly listenable and would probably make a great primer for someone who is interested in experimental instrumental music but is afraid to stray too far from the beat-oriented songs with which they are more comfortable. By the time the soft guitar and harmonics of the last two tracks are over, I'm waiting for another track, which is always the sign of a record worth keeping.
Run (North America) / Quatermass (Europe) When electronica was supposed to break big, it was en vougue to namecheck the Meat Beat sound as a cornerstone of the big beat electronic party music that took over the media consciousness for a while, and later became the soundtrack for selling cars and toothpaste. But when Meat Beat's newest full-length, 'RUOK' was released, it came as a surprise to many in these parts. "Oh, you mean he's still doing stuff?" Yeah. He is. And if 'RUOK' is any indication, those of us tired of the sample-laden soundtracks designed to sell SUVs should be thankful. Without pandering to the micro-genre trends of recent, critically accepted electronic music, Meat Beat Manifesto has managed to crank out another record that is equal parts deep sound collage, bombastic beats and rolling basslines, and unabashed fun. But that's not to say that 'RUOK' isn't without its disappointments. For starters, Dangers has left the vocalizing to the samples here, stripping the Meat Beat sound of most of its political and conceptual weight. There was a time when an angrier Jack Dangers ran channel after channel of feedback into a track armed with ambiguous half-rap, half-shouting. Vocals harmonized into the sublime on tracks like "She's Unreal" from 'Subliminal Sandwich,' but they've been abandoned here. Instead, the vocal hooks come from the next most likely place for a Meat Beat record, the sampled voices used to introduce a beat or define a chorus as in the anthemic "Supersoul," and the cheeky interludes such as a sampled lesson on jive lingo with just enough interruption to make it fun. Then there's the case of two tracks that don't at all seem to fit in the Meat Beat Manifesto repertoire. The album opener, "Yuri" is all analogue bubble and synthetic percussion not unlike the sound of a DHS record, and its partner, "No Echo In Space" offers the same synthetic, technoid rhythm that trades in the James Brown funk for Kraftwerk minimalism. However, the album quickly picks up with the more recognizable Meat Beat sound with "Dynamite Fresh", a "Dogstarman" redux if ever there was one. Dangers cranks up the tempo and feeds the beat with a quick dub bass and spattering of noodly synth notes that fill up every inch of space. We haven't heard a jam like this since '99%' and yet, with all its ferocity, it demonstrates a level of refinement that most funky break music never even imagines. Meat Beat Manifesto has always offered a little more than could be easily digested, from the art/sound collage of 'Armed Audio Warfare' to the simultaneously funky and pissed off sound of "Nuclear Bomb", and 'RUOK' is thankfully no different. It challenges preconceived notions of what a Meat Beat record should sound like while also playing into expectations by recycling samples from Meat Beat records of the past in the ultimate of sonic inside jokes. There are as many ways to listen to these songs as there are sounds to be uncovered, and with the excellent bonus 3" CD included with the album's initial pressing, this should be enough to listen to and think about for quite a while.
Let's be honest—three white, nerdy, Hoboken NJ-based alt-rock indie superstars will probably never earn the amount of cred for this song that Sun Ra has earned in his years of groundbreaking musical endeavors. But Yo La Tengo aren't stupid, and I'm sure they realize this.
To honor this fantastic call-and-response piece which was originally released in the 1980s (a period considered long after the heyday of Sun Ra), Yo La Tengo have provided four intense interpretations. The first one is a pretty damned slick original mix: only the trio playing drums and percussion. The second one is hands down one of the most entertaining songs I have heard this entire year, as the group is joined by a rhythmic drone and a chorus of young children eagerly shouting back "it's a motherfucker" and "kiss your ass goodbye," amongst many other things. On the third, the group adds a piano part, is joined by horn players, more percussionists, and more vocalists in a jazzed-up 15+ minute jam, while the fourth is a pleasurable remix of the second version by Mike Ladd (also known as Ozone). Yo La Tengo aren't going to change the world, this song will never air on the radio in these versions, but at the appropriate $4 price, it's very cool thing to have.
Like their Fort Thunder brethren, Forcefield's music is usually best supplemented by their performance art, which features the band (members Patootie Lobe, Meerk Puffy, Gorgon Radeo, and Le Geef) in full-knit suits which look suspiciously like afghans lifted from grandma's couch twenty-three years ago. 'Roggaboggas' is supposedly a companion piece to the Forcefield art collective's appearance at the 2002 Whitney Biennial (they were one of the few fresh sights at the Biennial), which was itself a symptom of the art world's tardy adoption of the deceased Fort Thunder.
The sound is akin to early explorations in electronic music mixed with noise: plenty of sound processors to adjust and tweak. 'Roggaboggas' can be broken down into component sounds, not songs. The conventional idea of songs is abandoned on this album, as thirty-second blips flow seamlessly into longer fifteen-minute musings, creating a pastiche of sound particles which compose the atom that is Forcefield. Here are some exciting sounds I was able to extract: what sounded like the spastic gagging of a choking robot; percolating electronic bubbles not unlike a child's approximation of a motorcycle sound with vibrating lips processed through an oscillator; a screaming squirrel; various whirlwind sounds. Though I like the sound of this record very much, it is sometimes hard to be enveloped by it. It loses me occasionally by not offering the visual stimulation of Forcefield's live show. In some part, I need the polychromatic afghan people bustling around and I need the dancing audience about me to appreciate the project fully. The album insert provides a number of pictures, but it is no proper substitution for the real thing. Surprisingly, it was the minimalist parts in the longer numbers which really engaged me. The final track, "2nd Annual Roggaboggas," deceives you about seventeen times into thinking that it will end, as the sound gets almost imperceptibly soft, and its life recedes. But it persists for twenty minutes, and you begin to realize that what you are hearing is actually the pulse of the band Forcefield, faint but still consistently pounding.
The second release from this German label is available just in time to combat numerous other obnoxious holiday releases. Attention record store clerks: demand this gets played instead of those goddamned 'Very Special Christmas' or Mariah Carey albums.
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While a number of these songs appear elsewhere already (see Mobile's other collection, 'Asthmatic Worm'), the selection is a fine one. Low have gratiously provided "Long Way Around the Sea," from their 'Christmas' EP while Hood have given the fantastic acoustic + violin number, "Winter Will Set You Back." Saint Etienne have lent their organ and reverb-heavy "My Christmas Prayer," from their 'I Was Born on Christmas Day' single while Badly Drawn Boy's "Donna and Blitzen" (last year's one-sided Christmas 7") appears for the first time on a CD. New songs include (Kings of Convenience singer) Erland Øye's tasteful acoustic rendition of that trecherous Wham! abomination, "Last Christmas," some tasty morsels from Morr Music superstars: the instrumental "Catch a Snowflake," by Herrmann & Kleine, "Snow Story," by Opiate, and the album closer by Múm, "Nóttin Va Svo Ágæt Ein," which makes me feel like I just got lost in the snow and am being buried alive in shivering cold white powder. Once again, Mobile's compilation comes in a book format: this one includes a printing of "Auggie Wren's Christmas Story" (see the film 'Smoke'). I can't wait to have another hot cider party this year and play this record. Yum. (For the hot cider recipe, dig through The Brain archives.)
Good luck still finding this one, as if you didn't get it while they were on tour, your only chance is off their website, where they may still have a few copies left. Available at the merchandise counter on their European tour, this EP is a collection of studio tracks the band has released as bonus tracks on import releases of the album or on other tour releases, as well as a couple of live recordings.
Two of the studio songs were on Mogwai's split US tour single with Bardo Pond, including "D to E", which they performed on that tour as well. So if you have the US tour 10" already you know what to expect. It's "Close Encounters", the first track, that most US fans will be unfamiliar with. A Japanese bonus track added to 'Rock Action', "Encounters" is a very pretty, mellow number with lots of Rhodes piano. In fact, all three 'new' songs showcase keys more than Mogwai usually does on record or live. Fans of 'Come On Die Young' and 'Mogwai EP' will appreciate hearing this side of the band again - the somber, melodic side with sparse guitar playing and occasional musical sidesteps like horns and drum machines. These tracks might not have fit on their last studio release, but they work together very well here. The live tracks are from Mogwai's very special show at Rothesay. They even chartered a ferry to get fans to and from the show and to party on, and Gruff Rhys appeared to sing his lines on "Dial:Revenge", making it a very special engagement indeed for true fans. These tracks offer a glimpse at the ferocity Mogwai can unleash live, as well as the cohesive wall of sound they generate. "Helicon 1", in particular, is a live staple that fans love, as its recording on 'Ten Rapid' is a bit shoddy. What appears here is a far superior recording with guitar wash and hammered drumming in where you can even hear the fans recognize the track shortly into it and start applauding appreciatively. New tracks and live staples for about seven dollars make this a must for completists.
These two onslaughts of hard, relentless, unapologetic female funk could very well be the most brilliant albums I've bought all year. Born in Pittsburgh, PA, Betty Mabry's musical career began as a professional songwriter before she had even reached the age of 20. A brief marriage to Miles Davis gave her a new last name and turned Miles on to musicians like Sly Stone and Jimi Hendrix (by the way, that's her on the cover of 'Filles de Kilimanjaro').
MPC Ltd.
Her eponymous debut was released in 1973, four years after the divorce of her and Miles. For this, Betty gathered a fierce ensemble of some of the hottest musicians and backup singers, including members of Sly Stone's band and Santana, the Tower of Power horn section, and the Pointer Sisters. The result was loud and raw at times, with forceful drums and vocals like the opener, "If I'm In Luck I Might Get Picked Up," as well as sultry and dirty with songs like "Anti-Love Song," with a fabulous slap bass and banging piano complimenting Betty's up close and personal voice. The response, unfortunately was rather lukewarm.
Her second album followed a year later and unbelievably featured even more intense and direct vocals, like the gangsta-bitch classic, "Shoo-b-doop and Cop Him," and a song rumored to be about John Coltraine, "He Was a Big Freak." ("I used to beat him with a turquoise chain!") The guitar breakdown on, "Your Mama Wants Ya Back" combined with the outlandish costumes Betty's wearing on the front and back cover gives me strong reason to believe David Bowie was a big fan of this record. Once again, however, the mainstream world wasn't ready for a forceful, powerful woman singing about things like S&M. Even worse, religious groups forced cacellations of numerous shows of hers. A third album followed in 1975, 'Nasty Gal,' and unfinished recordings from the later 1970s have surfaced, but Betty retired from the music world and has lived a very quiet life since. In 2000, these albums were issued on CD from the UK-based MPC, and, while the artwork looks almost bootleg-quality, the sound is fabulous and well-worth digging up. While I don't have her third album yet, I can safely say these two albums have made nearly everything I've heard this year sound, well, insignificant.
Kicking off with the previously unreleased track "Good Man", Christian Fennesz treats us to a taste of what's to come: warm, earthy textures in the digital whirrs and purrs, handled with his usual careful composition. This is followed by the four pieces from the out-of-print "Instrument" 12", released by MEGO in 1995.
Created using guitar-based sounds, these early tracks are marked by unusual juxtapositions of mood—switching from swift, controlled grittiness to bassy, dreamy, brittle washes. Among the tracks culled from various other compilations is "Menthol" from Mille Plateaux's 'Clicks and Cuts Vol. 2', which is slightly uninspiring, standand glitchy fare. This, however, is the only low point on 'Field Recordings'. Other standouts include "Surf" from the Ash International compilation 'Decay' with its epic walls of sound and Fennesz's remix of a Stephan Mathieu and Ekkehard Ehlers track from their collaboration 'Heroin'. Those hungry for a follow-up to Fennesz's acclaimed 2001 album 'Endless Summer' will have to wait a bit longer, but in the mean time, this compilation serves as an excellent appetizer.
The stuttering jagged rhythms of the buzzing guitars set up a hypnotic rhythm and then suddenly, the first screams of a totally abstracted rage come from the new Isis disc's opening track, "The Beginning and the End". Straight off, an impressive start. One of the recent spate of signings to Ipecac Records, Isis have been around for a while, though not in as high-profile a setting. Instead they've been building a fanbase slowly.
Their sound is often described as heavy metal ambient, which can be summed up like this: vocals = heavy metal, instruments = post-rock ambience. Instrumentally, they're pretty straightforward: guitar, bass, drums and a few synth-y noises every now and again, and on top, a raging voice bellowing almost unintelligible lyrics. The combination works really well, better than one would maybe expect, with the intense emotion behind the vocals brought into a sharp contrast by the head-nodding rock. The liner notes themselves have a few of the lyrics transcribed, although it's not word for word, and the packaging is very well done, if a bit plain. Although the intensity of the delivery of the vocals conveys a sense of conviction behind their intent, the lyrics themselves and the very unintelligible quality of them gives them a cold feeling, with the steady washing of the guitars and drums' pounding behind them, make the record's title seem less pretentious and more like just a descriptive term. Because of the vocals, ISIS will no doubt be tossed off as just heavy metal, but there's a depth to the music—vocals included—that goes beyond common aggro-"ooh I'm angry at daddy" metal. It's good, and it has it's moments of space-rock-ness that I think would appeal to more than a few brainwashed readers (especially the almost-vocal-less "Weight", if you're particularly turned off by the vocals).