Podcast Episodes 721 & 722 are live!
Mid-November midweek special
Two new episodes are now available.
Episode 721 features Throwing Muses, Eros, claire rousay, Moin, Zachary Paul, Voice Actor and Squu, Leya, Venediktos Tempelboom, Cybotron, Robin Rimbaud and Michael Wells, Man or Astro-Man?, and Aisha Vaughan.
Episode 722 has James Blackshaw, FACS, Laibach, La Securite, Good Sad Happy Bad, Eramus Hall, Nonconnah, The Rollies, Jabu, Freckle, Evan Chapman, diane barbe, Tuxedomoon, and Mark McGuire.
Wine in Paris photo by Mathieu.
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Genre bending tribute albums tend to be lame unless the ideas are as amusing and well executed as Opium Jukebox's. Centered around Martin Atkins (Pigface, The Damage Manual, Invisible Records, Underground, Inc.) and Bobdog Catlin (ex-Evil Mothers, Pigface, Pseudo Buddha) plus Julian Beeston (ex-Nitzer Ebb, Shining) and Rahul Sharma, the group relocates well known Western ditties thousands of miles to the East via sitars and such.
First and foremost, credit must go to STROM.ec for being a wonderfullydynamic act who manage to change their style of music on each releaseenough to make a new album a pleasantly unexpected surprise. For thoseof you following these talented Finns, "Dogs of Total Order" doesn'tsound like "Neural Architect" which doesn't sound like the "Glass Cage"7" which certainly does not sound like "Arma Christi." On "ArmaChristi," STROM.ec and fellow Finns Irikarah go "classic German powerelectronics" - i.e. Genocide Organ soundalikes. Therein lies mycomplaint - originality is not this record's strong suit. Regardless,both bands know what they're going for, and they go for the throat.STROM.ec's four tracks are powerful examples of this genre done well -repetitive, hypnotic, noisy music coupled with brutal, pissed-offvocals (which are often the "make-or-break" factor, and in STROM.ec'scase, definitely make it). Irikarah takes a similar approach, but soundquite different. Whereas STROM.ec focuses on repetition and vocals,Irikarah's sound is a little bit more dynamic and less vocal-heavy. Thethird track in particular is almost rhythmic (imagine that)! Suffice itto say, if you're a fan of this sound, you could do no better than toimmediately purchase this record, and scream and shout right along withSTROM.ec (fans of "Neural Architect" be warned, this record is a lotless dynamic). Myself, I'm getting a little bit tired of therepetitiveness, but I need a good dose of it every now and then, and"Arma Christi" hits the spot like a sledgehammer.
Spider Monkey makes hard breakbeat moves on this 5 track CD-R whichfall somewhere between a less distorted, less hip-hop influenced 2ndGen and a lot of the Position Chrome label releases, but probably donewith more imagination and variation than the PC lot. "Drowning" hammersominously, but the following "H.L.S" drops down to a simple tickingwarped keyboard melody before the distorted driving beats pick upagain. "Isolation Chamber" pounds away in a linear bangin' technotunnel with manic sci-fi bleeps circling wildly around the perimeter.This track might seem a little dated to some perhaps, but it works justfine. "Feel Nothing After Dark" warps a vocal sample of the phrase "Theway I feel," which sounds great at unintelligible slow speed but edgestowards cheeseball territory sped up later on, however riding out on afeedbck drone is a smart way to finish the track. I don't listen to agreat deal of this stuff, so I'm not sure which kind of sub-genres itmight fit into or if that's even relevant anymore, but it's definitelymore fist-thru-monitor than headnod-shit. Spider Monkey definitelyseems like one to watch out for, and if the samples below appeal thencheck out the website for more.
Some times I really just don't get Sub Pop. They've made some greatsignings in recent years, the best of which being The Shins, butsometimes you have to wonder what they see in some bands. That'sexactly what I thought when I first heard Beachwood Sparks, and I thinkit even more now. Another fragile-voiced, country-tinged rock band withmediocre imagery as the major tenet to their songs. The harmonies arefine, but not enough to carry the songs to airy heights. In fact,there's not much about this EP that is particularly memorable or worthyof praise. It's pretty uninspiring. On "Make the Cowboy Robots Cry,"the Sparks stretch their legs a little bit, performing some of theirmost experimental music yet. And it's all over the damn place. Thecenter piece is, of course, the fragile vocals, but now there is agreater emphasis placed on the instrumentation, and on sampled momentsof rhythm and strings. There are moments of brilliance, but they'remostly due to the guests on the release, as much as I can tell. ChrisGunst was apparently quite inspired by his work with Jimmy Tamborelloon the DNTEL release, so he invited Tamborello to appear here as aproducer/side man, and Mia Doi Todd is along for the ride, as well. Hercontribution, on 'Ponce de Leon Blues' gives that song a hauntingbeauty, and when she and Gunst sing together, there is a bit ofpromise. Maybe for the next DNTEL release. But not for BeachwoodSparks, sadly. The last song, 'Ghost Dance 1492', is just plain awful.In spreading their wings and trying out some new elements and sounds,and tweaking their base sound in the process, Beachwood Sparks havetried to apply this same energy in their songwriting, and they'vemuddied the water. If they'd applied these elements to their usualstyle of songwriting, the results might have been more awe-inspiring.Instead, we're left with this hint of what is to come on futureBeachwood Sparks music. And what will that bring? Hopefully somethingmore coherent.
Entirely too raw for any glitzy fashion-conscious New Yorker to releasethem, this power-trio have found a home with the Providence-based Load(Lighning Bolt, Arab on Radar, Six Finger Satellite) for their debutfull (?) length release (at 11 songs, it clocks in at an almost exact26 minutes!) This aneurysm-inducing onslaught of atonality is rich inabrasion, heavy with distortion and loaded with more adorable hatedthan a pimply, overweight, horny teenaged nerd. But it's hardlymathematic, metallic, (or "ironic") however, as each song is a directslice into the guts of anybody in its aural path. The feverent energyis somewhat refreshing as it takes a much different path to get fromthe slaughterhouse to your table, stopping in the underworlds of withavant-garde social terrorists rather than concrete jungles of post-punkbrats from good homes with bedhead or leather jackets with DC bandlogos, all the while, remaining bleedingly truthful. (Eat your heartout, Thurston O'Rourke.) This disc is anything but clean, yetremarkably consistent, almost as if you can turn it up loud enough andfeel like you're actually there in front of the miked amplifier with anunavoidable strong stench of body odor festering in your face. Yeah,it's fucking harsh, but then again, when was rock and roll ever aboutpleasing your parents? In a year filled with a slim amount offavorites, I'm happy to now have this in my collection.
Turned on by a recommendation by Jason Bryant (of Riouxs, damn, he'snever wrong), this second release for the Russian label is the firstfull-length album by this Saint Petersburg-based duo. You won't findany bizarre experimentation with crazy rhythms, abrasive noises orharsh melodies within. Instead it's a delicate wash of gorgeouselectronic melodies and serene sounds. While it does wander thattrecherous border between early Orb and new age, I honestly find myselfpulling for this disc frequently when I simply want to tune out theincreasingly psychotic world and soak in some valuble personal "me"time. I reached track four, "At_First," in my car once late at night,driving on an urban highway at a relatively high speed through somewell-lit tunnels and that, coupled with the following beat-less auralmasterpiece, "Paintings," really solidified my love for this disc.Picture the blissful sounds of some of the first Tear Garden materialwithout abrasive cuts, vocals or samples, replaced by conjunct, languidtunes which would please anybody fond of musicians like UlrichSchnauss. If anything, looking forward, Edda and Vladislav might wantto look into updating their sounds when progressing onto their nextrecords, but in the meantime, this album works just perfectly. Sadly,only Riouxs seems to be carrying this label right now.
After two albums on TVT, Guided By Voices return to their label formany years, Matador Records, to release their latest opus, "UniversalTruths and Cycles." It was a surprise for many that TVT was the labelto pick up Pollard and co. after their split from Matador. Why wouldTVT, home to such bands as Gravity Kills, Naughty By Nature andSevendust want indie songsters like Guided By Voices? (And XTC, forthat matter, but that's another story...) Their return to Matador isboth unexpected and welcome. Rob Pollard has described the CD as acombination of "Alien Lanes" and "Isolation Drills," though in placesit seems to have more in common with "Mag Earwhig!" Either way, itbrings GbV one step closer to the perfect mix of high-and-lo-fi thatPollard's been striving for years to achieve, and it's a strongcollection of classic GbV. Rocking out of the gates with 'WireGreyhounds,' the album really gets underway with the second track,'Skin Parade.' With a little in common with 'The Enemy' off "IsolationDrills" - lo-fi beginning, with hi-fi interruption and continuation -the track unloads a furious guitar assault, with Pollard sounding likehe's genuinely having a blast with the "hoo-hoos" at the end of thetrack. Elsewhere, the band create soaring guitar and vocal epics('Cheyenne'), boogey rock of a new flavor ('Back to the Lake'), and oneof the darkest tracks GbV have ever recorded, while still rocking outin full style with gorgeous double-tracked vocals ('Storm Vibrations').Of course, the quirkiness is here in full force in the song titles('Everywhere with Helicopter', 'Father Sgt. Christmas Card', 'ChristianAnimation Torch Carriers') and in Pollard's lyrics ("loving arms attackyou/with promises for when you check out"). It's not a return to form,a regression, or a progression of their sound. It's simply anotherfantastic GbV record. And what more could you want?
This compilation brings together several early and now hard-to-findsingles by Britain's prolific ISAN, comprised of Robin Saville andAntony Ryan. The tracks, which come primarily from 7"s dating from 1997to 1999 on labels like Wurlitzer Jukebox, Earworm and Bad Jazz, breathenew life into a genre which, especially as of late, has begun toflounder with acts that are virtually indistinguishable. "Autolung" isan exhibition of their hypnotic, haunting signature sound: ISAN's brandof electronic music is introspective without over-intellectualization,and is often childlike, but never infantile, particularly with regardsto the choice of vocal samples they sometimes use. "Damil 85", whichmakes use of such a sample, is brilliant, and quite possibly one of thebest tracks the duo has ever done. "Remegio" is full of a chilling andmelancholy beauty. Understated yet often playful beats ebb and flowseamlessly and consistently throughout every piece. Another gem fromfrom the lovely Morr Music.
Fennesz 'Endless Summer' was the big across board hit of last year,obviously much more interesting in it's original invention thanRadiohead's thinly veiled Elton John impressions or Bjork's vaudevillesugar puff powderings. 'Endless Summer' appealed to blandpiggys andnoizheds alike and it was quite interesting to see the diverse music itrubbed shoulders with in all those yearend bestlisten lists. Fenneszstays visible with ever more recordings of varied live encounters, andalthough I haven't yet heard his Mika Vainio collaboration that got aslating from Nate Smith a couple of months back, I've always foundthat, like Otomo Yoshihide, for Fennesz quantity does not negatequality. This three way improvisation, recorded late in 2000, takes aclassic improvisation approach, in as much as AMM could be consideredclassic, but these artists are daubing from a very distinctive noisepallet. There are some very obvious similarities to AMM in the way theyslowly build up morphing dense layers from almost nothing, sewing inoccasional hacked fragments of radiopops. Fennesz might have started itwith a sampled fractious descending piano run, but then again itcould've been Gert-Jan Prins' kick off, or perhaps Van Bergen wasactually playing a piano? The haunting beauty unfolds fromradiocaptures and junk contraptions complimenting the familiar Fenneszgentle guitarshift distortion textures for Peter Van Bergen'sunderstated but understanding saxophone to unwind around, blurtingcamouflaged in strange new ruptured lung distortion fractions. Aquarter hour in he fires off some almost classic free jazz moves thatquickly get torn apart by effects and spat back into the whirling void,all mangled and digidiminished. Whilst the prospect of having to switchthe blip-attention spans on to a single forty two minute track mightput off some blandpiggys, and noizheads might make gripewater out ofthe ever dipping levels and relatively reflective yet murky pools hereand there, this is definitely more than just a worthy and curiousaddition to the ever expanding Fennesz ouevre. The crescendo at aroundthe half hour point is top notch liberating primal freenoise, piling upvariegated deep drones to breaking point. They drop down again to letpiano patter and metal chimes ring over the digisplutter and zoom focuslens splatter squeals but it builds again to a warped summer ending.These noisemakers play it organic, so that it becomes difficult toseparate any individual chaos panic. They also bring an intuitiveunderstanding of electro-acoustic sudden shock echoblam to theirconstantly mutating crunchy evolution. 'Dawn' makes me curious to hearmore from Van Bergen and especially Prins, whose noise patchwork freeskronking with Lee Ranaldo made for a surprising Radio 3 highlight acouple of years back, a recording which was made on a night when I wasacross London town listening to Wire. Sometimes it seems there's somuch happening you just need to split yourself in two to experience itall, which makes me glad that Fennesz makes these recordings of livesituations. When the sun rises, I will listen.
I think there comes a time (or rather, a number of times) when a musicenthusiast/record collector finally becomes hooked on something theynever really paid much attention to for years and just think over andover again, "damn, what was I thinking?" This holds true for me andChristoph Heemann's work and the music contained herein is noexception. Originally released as a limited edition in 1997, the musicon this disc accompanies four short stories by Thomas Ligotti writtenfor David Tibet. The musical accompaniment by Christoph Heemann andSteven Stapleton is intense enough to stand on its own yet subtleenough to be read along to as recommended in the booklet. Low, rumblingdrones underscore fleeting sound effects and garbled voices throughoutthe opener, "His Shadow Will Rise to a Higher House" and a tuba melody"A Soft Voice Whispers Nothing," while echoed and layered bells ringout during the haunting "The Bells Will Sound Forever." Only rarelywill a voice pop in from Tibet, Andria Degens (Pantaleimon) or ShirleyCollins, narrating small portions of the text, essentially performingthe role as suggestive guidelines as to where the story should be. Thevoices aren't overbearing but I'm really in mixed worlds whether tothink the narration should run throughout or the music should becompletely instrumental. The stories by Ligotti are rather entertainingand a light read, but my lack of ability to respectfully critiquefiction can't go much deeper into them than that. All the text andartwork has been reprinted from the first edition, however, thisversion is unfortunately in a rather chinchy digipack when compared tothe hardcover original. Regardless, the music is essential for anyfanatic Mirror fan and could easily make a Heemann fan out of anyexisting C93 fan.
Gastr del Sol, with their complicated arrangements, electronic interludes, and guitar work drawn from obscure North American folk and rock influences, would have been more than qualified to take a marketable place amongst the identikit post-rock outfits doing the rounds in the mid-nineties. But instead of achieving Tortoise-proportioned recognition, they remained a relative obscurity, and perhaps part of the reason for that was David Grubbs's unique vocal and lyrical contribution.
