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It recently occurred to me that Phill Niblock has a remarkably meager discography for a visionary composer with a body of work that spans five decades. I hesitate to describe anyone's career as undocumented these days, as the experimental music world is drowning in live recordings, unfortunate one-off collaborations, vault scrapings, and unnecessary reissues. Nevertheless, Music for Cello makes a strong case that Niblock probably has quite a backlog of unheard masterpieces wrongfully gathering dust somewhere, as the three pieces compiled here all date back roughly forty years (or more). However, they all sound like they could have been recorded this week. While these pieces chronologically represent quite an early stage of Niblock's lifelong fascination with sustained acoustic tones and the interplay of frequencies, his mastery of the form was already amply evident. In fact, Music For Cello is actually superior to some albums from Niblock's classic run of Touch releases. I am delighted that I finally got to hear it.
As some more alert readers may already suspect at this point, Music for Cello consists entirely of cello pieces.In fact, all three were performed by the same cellist (David Gibson) despite a twenty-one-year gap between the earliest recordings and the most recent.The three compositions are presented in chronological order, so the album opens with 1972's "3 to 7 – 196," a work that Niblock notes was his first to feature extremely precise tuning (a sine wave oscillator and frequency counter were used to tune Gibson's cello to exact frequencies).Niblock also notes that the piece is intended to be played at a high volume, as that intensity makes the overtone patterns more prominent.In more practical terms, "3 to 7 – 196" employs a steadily snowballing mass of uncomfortably harmonizing cello drones to weave something that resembles a nightmarishly buzzing swarm of harrowing dissonances.It is quite a tour de force of exquisite discomfort, as the gnarled and oscillating death cloud beautifully ebbs and flows and changes shape as various tones are added and subtracted.Also, it is heavy as hell.
Niblock and Gibson gamely keep the visceral discomfort party going with 1978's "Descent Plus," which presumably earned the "plus" because the duo revisited the piece in 1995 to add several more layers.Like its predecessor, "Descent" is a manifestation of some deep thinking about how frequencies interact and collide.In this case, Gibson played "four cello tones descending one octave over twenty-two minutes, from 300 hertz to 150 hertz," a feat achieved by sloooowly detuning his instrument "without lifting his bow from the strings."The later recordings added several additional drones that did NOT move, giving the glacially plunging tones a static foundation to uncomfortably harmonize with.Unsurprisingly, the piece is another feast of escalating darkness and discomfort, though it is much more of a slow-burner than the previous demonic storm of malevolent buzzing.Instead, "Descent" sounds like a score to a horror film or thriller in which the composer subtly adds some dissonant harmonies to imbue a quiet scene with an ominous sense of tension…then mercilessly continues to ratchet up that tension for the next twenty minutes with little hint of relief or resolution.
That said, the album closes with an unexpectedly lovely departure from its long stretch of roiling dissonance, revealing that the young Phill Niblock did not quite spend ALL of his time dreaming up ingenious new ways to weave slow-motion clouds of billowing horror (just most of it).Naturally, "Summing II" (one section of a larger, mostly unreleased four-part work) has some frequency experimentation at its core, but the essence is that Gibson's drones gradually build into an increasingly rich and immense chord over the course of thirty minutes.I suspect that the album art (portraying a brilliant sunrise) was directly inspired by "Summing," as the piece is a perfect evocation of a fiery orb slowly rising above a dark horizon to burn away the clouds and bathe the landscape in light and warmth.It is also a perfect end to the album, erasing all of the previous tension as it builds into a benevolent, all-engulfing roar.Of the three pieces, I am most enamored of the ugliest and most viscerally intense one ("3 to 7 – 196"), yet all the compositions improbably combine to form a beautifully crafted and coherent triptych (despite their varied origins and the fact that they were presumably never intended to be presented together).Obviously, Niblock continued to hone his artistry and recorded a handful of legitimate drone masterpieces in the decades since these pieces were recorded, but the organic tone of the cello, the elegant simplicity of the compositions, and the physical/raw production of these performances add up to a timeless work that ranks among Niblock's best.Which it absolutely should be, given that Niblock patiently waited more than four decades for all of these various threads to finally come together just right.
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As audacious as the sleeve it comes housed in, the UK’s most eccentric audio malefactor returns with his eighth studio album, Practical Electronics. Unique in the Thighpaulsandra oeuvre, this one eschews the usual group-based recordings, consisting of electronics and vocals only.
Hovering between haunted narratives and extended instrumental sequences, Practical Electronics is an eccentric excursion into playful pop and fearless electronic experimentation. Simultaneously intimidating and accessible, the energy of this untamed mind unleashes an artefact where high art unfolds as an oblique electronic cabaret.
Having cut is teeth amongst such legendary outfits such as Coil and Spiritualized, Thighpaulsandra has constantly catapulted himself further and further into a musical landscape utterly of his own devising. Practical Electronics is the latest exemplary installment of a voice that is uncompromising as it is outlandish.
More information can be found here.
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"Imagine Richard Youngs as the junior member of a cabal of prolific and puritanical English musician-mystics, including The Fall's Mark E Smith, Van der Graaf Generator's Peter Hammill, Martin Carthy and The Clangers composer Vernon Elliot, and still his nature will elude you."
-Stewart Lee, Sunday Times.
Dissident is a hallucination of a legendary lost Samizdat-style recording of the legendary lost Richard Youngs Band. It's not clear to me that it is against anything in particular, and as such it is not literally dissident. In fact, I'm a little lost how or why it is dissident, save for being informed by the imagined provisional recordings of pre-Glasnost protest. Perhaps the wordless scratch vocals are voicing dissent, but I remember having fun. So much so, I couldn’t stop myself from fleshing out the rough nylon guitar songs to a full band arrangement, recorded in multiple spaces. Which is as far from the Samizdat spirit as you could care to go.
More information can be found here.
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With the demise of the group Wire in 1980, founder members Bruce Gilbert and Graham Lewis joined forces to create Dome. With the assistance of engineer Eric Radcliffe and his Blackwing Studio, Dome took the ethic of "using the studio as a compositional tool" and recorded and released three Dome albums on their own label in the space of 12 months: Dome (July 1980), Dome 2 (October 1980) and Dome 3 (October 1981). A final fourth album, Will You Speak This Word: Dome IV was released on the Norwegian Uniton label in May 1983.
These albums represent some of the most beautifuly stark and above all timeless exercises in studio experimentation from early 1980s alternative music scene.
Previously issued in the out-of-print Dome 1-4+5 boxed set in 2011. Now available as standalone LP with download card.
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Martina Lussi's second album fuses together disparate sound sources with a disorienting quality that reflects the modern climate of dispersion and distraction. The Lucerne, Switzerland-based sound artist released her debut album Selected Ambient on Hallow Ground in 2017, and now comes to Latency with a bold new set of themes and processes.
The range of tools at her disposal spans field recordings, processed instrumentation, synthesized elements and snatches of human expression. The guitar is a recurring figure, subjected to a variety of treatments from heavy, sustained distortion to clean, pealing notes. Elsewhere the sound of sports crowds and choral singing merge, and patient beds of drones and noise melt into the sounds of industry and mechanics. The track titles manifest as a compositional game of deception complete with innuendos, empty phrases and claims – flirtations with perfume names and ironic assertions.
From the volatile geopolitical climate to the changing nature of music consumption in the face of streaming and digital access, Diffusion is a Force is a reflection on fractured times where familiar modes and models change their meaning with the ever-quickening pace of communication.
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On Epitaph things are different - Jay's voice croons crystalline over goth futurism for the first time on record (if you haven't heard of Ku….) - he sings one of the oldest Greek songs ever written and has spent the last year doing impromptu vocal covers of Tricky tracks in Cambridge pubs. And did you notice the tracks don't have dub in the title any more?
This his first proper proper solo LP from Jay Glass Dubs - a widescreen vision of 4AD nightmares, ballads for River Styx crossings and echoes that never end. It's This Mortal Coil if they knew about dungeon synth and Metalheadz and still thought dub techno was boring as fuck.
Epitaph follows his 2LP retrospective of Dubs on Not Waving's Ecstatic Recordings; and his 12” mini-LP with Leslie Winer on Bokeh early in 2018. It's his 5th and no way final release for Bokeh (do you remember BKV 002, the slowest dancehall mixtape ever made?). Realized with help of Greek vocalist and performing artist Yorgia Karidi and a special saxophone guest spot from Ben Vince (Curl, Where To Now, Hessle Audio). Bokeh graphic visionary Patrick Savile's sensually airbrushed and peeled lemon closes this funeral casket of all the things you thought you knew about Jay Glass Dubs.
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"Heart-rending shoegaze entries from the master of rose-tinted but thorny ambient pop hymns, landing smart on the heels of his nostalgic pangs collected in the recent Songs of Remembrance / Songs of Forgiveness LP reissues. The struggle is beautiful.
Accompanied by the languorous basslines of Drew Piraino on the record's broadest and most affective pieces, Jefre's chiming guitars and muffled drums form hymns to rare feels, with the distancing effect of distortion connoting the effect of age, as serene moments appear move ever farther out of reach.
That effect is felt most strongly in the transition of "Love’s Refrain" from something like a crumpled tape recording of shimmering yacht rock thru to its coruscating, noisy finale, and the dense weight of humid air and featherlight chirrups in "Little Dear Isle," while the other side pushes off from the sore synth chorale of "In Summer" and into the slackened drums of "Blue Nudes (I-IV)," again underlined by Drew Piraino’s murmuring bassline, with Jefre pushing the upper registers into the red, before collapsing into the tape noise and lone piano refrain of his "Prelude.""
-via Boomkat
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Alhough I lamentably cannot claim to have been a fan since the beginning, I have been aware of Ectoplasm Girls' intermittently surfacing bouts of outsider genius long enough to feel like a fool for sleeping on this latest solo album from Nadine Byrne (released last spring). In my defense, it was billed as a soundtrack and I am generally averse to such things, but Dreaming Remembering is quite unlike anything resembling a conventional soundtrack that I have heard. Instead, this album feels like a collection of B-sides from a great synth pop/minimal wave artist, stretching and reshaping their hook-heavy hits into something considerably weirder, more abstract, and subtly hallucinatory. Some pieces are certainly more substantial than others, but the best moments bring an extremely appealing pop sensibility to the synth and experimental music milieu.
This is Byrne’s second solo release under her own name, following 2014’s maddeningly out-of-print A Different Gesture (also a soundtrack of sorts).She has also surfaced as The Magic State on a similarly elusive release, but Dreaming Remembering uncharacteristically got a digital release, making it likely to be Byrne's widest reaching solo work to date.It is certainly a solid pick for that honor.Unsurprisingly, the film being soundtracked here is one of Nadine's own, as music is just one facet of an oeuvre that also stretches into video art, textiles, sculpture, photography, and probably several other additional disciplines that I have missed.The album is a bit more substantial than the film itself, which feels like a looping video installation or an interrelated series of music videos (there are three different vignettes set to five of these songs).According to Byrne, both the album and the 19-minute film are intended to "exist in the borderland between memory and dream, drawing their inspiration from that threshold of consciousness where one cannot tell one from the other."In that regard, the album succeeds quite admirably, as the unusual approach to vocals gives these pieces an elusive and fragmented mystery.It is not unlike voyeuristically getting a glimpse of someone's deepest secrets in their diary, but lacking the necessary context to unlock their actual meaning.
Notably, Ectoplasm Girls' earliest work was characterized by an eclectic and computer-averse "anything goes" approach that incorporated samples pregnant with childhood memories, yet Dreaming Remembering feels like the work of a gifted synthesizer artist with sharply honed production skills and a clear vision.While she handles all of the instrumentation herself, Byrne curiously enlisted a guest vocalist (Sarah Kim) for four pieces; primarily the ones that are most heavily based on lyrics/poetry.Neither Kim nor Byrne actually sing at any point on the album, however, as their voices are either devoted to confessional-sounding spoken-word monologues or loops that act like an additional layer of instrumentation.Admittedly, the former probably gives the album its most substantial content and depth (at least conceptually), but Byrne is able to wield something as outwardly vapid as a repeating loop of "Um hmm, ok" to great effect in "Okay."The lion's share of the album's appeal lies primarily in the hypnotically buzzing and throbbing synth loops that Byrne assembles, so the vocals essentially just need to be there to imbue these burbling post-industrial soundscapes with a glimmer of soul and human warmth.The sole exception to that is the album's centerpiece "Mothers and Daughters and Sisters," in which a variation of the title phrase becomes kind of an intensifying and cathartic mantra that eclipses the surrounding music.Aside from the brief and insistently throbbing "Nothing Is Opposite to Forever," the remainder of the album’s highlights delve into much more vaporous and dreamlike territory, such the warmly ripping reverie of "ATDN."
While "Mothers and Daughters and Sisters" is the album's unquestionable zenith, it is another piece "But You Don't" that best highlights Byrne's endearingly unique and off-kilter sensibilities, favorably reminding me of the obsessive and deranged collages of early Severed Heads without ever crossing the line into feeling derivative. I would have already been delighted by the piece if it were just an endless loop of the syllable "Ehh" over an energetically lurching and clap-based drum machine groove, yet Byrne ingeniously builds on that playfully maniacal foundation with further loops that sound like sped up tapes, as well as a slowed-down snatch of sassy trash-talking.The overall effect is both wonderfully disorienting and gleefully, infectiously ridiculous. To my ears, that direction is where Byrne's true genius lies: making experimental music that feels genuinely experimental, yet deftly evading self-serious artiness with a healthy appreciation for hooks and a strong intuition for wryly mischievous juxtapositions.I wish Byrne had explored her lunatic dance party side more, but this is ostensibly a soundtrack for an art film, so it is a welcome and unexpected treat that such a piece even turned up here at all.As it stands, Dreaming Remembering is a mostly excellent album diluted by a few weaker pieces, but its impressive highlights and the elusiveness of Nadine's other releases combine to make that it the ideal entry point to the work of a wonderfully talented and idiosyncratic artist.
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Alive in Dark Rooms is the third live release from Joao Da Silva’s Luciernaga project, following two equally limited, handmade CDs from 2015 and 2017. Compiling four full performances between 2017 and 2018 it functions not only as a snapshot of how the Luciernaga project translates to a live setting, but also is a brilliant overview of the different styles and approaches Da Silva has been working with these past years. At times meditative and beautiful, and at other turns dark and harsh, it is a superb document of his recent work.
In a live setting, the Luciernaga sound is not one that is drastically different from his studio releases, with the only obvious point being their longer durations and structure.Much of the non-live work Da Silva has released previously is likely improvisations captured in the studio and then edited down/cleaned up as needed. So in these live performances, the only difference is their long-form nature, the fact they are recorded with just a portable recorder in the room, but also the presence of an audience.Given the fact Da Silva prefers to play small spaces with largely groups of friends and fellow artists, I can imagine that their presence is a positive force, at least in the case of these shows.
The first performance, "Dirge" (Ridgewood NY, 2018) captures more of the lighter, ambient side of Luciernaga.Da Silva slowly weaves together various loops, building them up but keeping them spacious in sound, making for a rich yet subtle mix.Soon more overt guitar droning and what almost sounds like a sustained chanting voice are mixed in, bringing a stoic, almost sacred minimalism feel to the piece.As the 20 minute performance continues, Da Silva places more emphasis on the melodic sounds in the mix, eventually taking the focus in an icy, shimmering, powerful, yet mournful tone to conclude the performance.
"Untitled" (Charlottesville, VA, 2017) has a dirge-like quality to it, but on the whole follows the previous performance in a more melodic, tonal approach.There is a slowness to his playing, but one that is pleasantly spacious.Again Da Silva takes his time before introducing slightly more conventional guitar sounds to the composition.Here the sound is less effected in comparison, focusing more on the traditional tone of the instrument, but elongated with ebow-like sustain.On the whole it is largely a light, drifting piece with some more commanding guitar performances, making for a nice balance between two extremes.However, with the murder of Heather Heyer just a couple of weeks later in the same city, I imagine Da Silva’s performance would have been drastically different had it been a bit later on.
The other pair of performances on Alive in Dark Rooms capture the bleaker, more grim side of Luciernaga.The short (just a bit under 10 minutes) performance of "Raga for LMC" (also recorded in Ridgewood NY, in 2017) immediately opens with a darker, vaguely sinister midrange hum.The swells in volume are a bit more intense here, and while Da Silva's guitar work is a bit more musically melodic, the effects and overall feel of the piece have a profound depressing quality when compared to the previous two shows.Finally, "Untitled" (Maspeth NY, 2017) begins with an immediate sense of bleakness.Various sounds expand into a frigid, open space that, while beautiful, is anything but inviting.Soaring guitar sounds cut through the cold, empty mix with a distinctly beautiful quality to them, but the dreariness never subsides.Eventually what beauty remains in the piece is stripped away, becoming more ugly and almost violent in the closing minutes of the performance.
Sitting alongside his studio works perfectly, Alive in Dark Rooms is an exemplary release that brings the more spontaneous elements of Joao Da Silva’s work as Luciernaga to the forefront.It may be a subtle impact, but I feel that part of the variation, besides the inherent long form structure to the performances, would be the presence of an audience.It is never an obvious thing:only rarely on these four performances do you even hear any clear evidence of other people present for recording and then it is only a bit of dialogue at the very onset.However, it surely impacted Da Silva’s playing, and whatever the influence was, makes for four complex, multifaceted compositions that stand just as strongly as any of his studio material.
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The Dead C have been on an impressive hot streak in recent years, so it was a reasonably safe bet that I would be delighted yet again by Rare Ravers. However, I was definitely not expecting such a revelatory leap forward this deep into the band's career. Immodestly described as "recorded and burned through a thousand galaxies of dust and doubt and endless infinite wonder, transforming both time and space," this album feels like it was conscientiously sculpted to ravaged perfection in an actual studio and it sounds absolutely amazing. As it turns out, The Dead C's long history of rehearsal tape-level sound quality and shambolic, messy self-indulgence concealed the fact that they were secretly an extremely tight band capable of unleashing firestorms of howling guitar noise with the precision of a scalpel. I imagine some fans are still holding out hope that the band will someday return to writing actual songs with lyrics and vocals, but this album is an instant classic as far as I am concerned.
Much the recent Armed Courage and Trouble albums, Rare Ravers is roughly composed entirely of 20-minute pieces that each fill an entire side of vinyl, though in this case there is a two-minute interlude ("Waver") separating them.The opening salvo, "Staver," erupts with a characteristic snarl of distortion and feedback, but Robbie Yeats' insistently steady and unwavering snare and high-hat rhythm quickly cuts through the maelstrom and drags the song forward through the buzzing, crackling wreckage.That howling mass of distorted ruin never goes away (this is a Dead C album, after all), but in this case it turns out to be the mere foundation for something more structured and compelling rather than the sole raison d'être.That said, the omnipresent snarl and sputter still play an absolutely crucial role: if I saw a cool art show where the gallery was shuddering and collapsing around me, that context would be every bit as memorable and essential to the experience (if not more so) than the art I was ostensibly focused on.In this instance, the nod to structure and an overarching vision is quite a modest but effective one, as "Staver" is anchored by a repeating bent note that sounds like a deep, anguished moan.Notably, the piece briefly seems to collapse into directionless noodling around the halfway point, but that proves to be a cunning feint, as the smoldering ruins soon spring to life with a flurry of atypically sharp and audible drumming.The resurgent piece then goes on to finish in strong fashion, as Yeats' return signals the beginning of an unexpected second act in which the hollow animal moan of the first half slowly converges with a wobbling, pulsing, and insistent swell of distorted feedback.
Following a brief descent into the shuffling, sputtering psych-murk of "Waver," the album's superior second half is ushered in with the sputtering sludge avalanche of "Laver."Again, that is fairly well-covered Dead C territory, but searing howls of strangled feedback soon start viscerally streaking through the chaos as a ramshackle groove lazily starts to cohere.The recording quality plays an essential role here, as the recurring blasts of snarling guitar noise are beautifully intense and physical.That proves to be fortunate, as the rest of the song completely drops out for a while, leaving only a series of howling noise eruptions punctuated by stretches of near silence.After that, it briefly dissolves into an interlude that sounds like a panning and undulating shortwave radio transmission.The piece soon lurches back to life though, cohering into a slow, heavy groove of muscular drums and snatches of clean, melodic guitar.The roiling entropy underneath is the real show, however, as it sounds like there are blood-thirsty noise demons attempting to tear their way through the veil of distortion.Again, the crispness and clarity of the recording plays a major role, as creaking of strings and the intricacies of the feedback squalls are able to gradually seize the foreground from both the beat and the melody.That is optimal, as Michael Morley and Bruce Russell unleash an absolutely glorious tour de force of screaming and distorted noise squall.Lest anyone get too concerned that The Dead C are approaching perfectionism or compositional rigor, however, "Laver" ends by being abruptly cut off mid-note.Maybe that actually is perfect though, as the only appropriate way for this album to end was probably for an amplifier to explode or the recording desk to short out from signal overload.
It feels very wrong to describe a Dead C album as flawless, as the band's aesthetic has always been a fundamentally broken, corroded, and deconstructed one, so I will instead say that Rare Ravers is an album that is impressively devoid of any wasted time, directionless meandering, unrealized potential, or half-baked ideas.I was similarly struck by the volcanic power that this threesome can unleash when they are focused and allow some degree of professionalism to creep into their recording process.The Dead C have always been great at sounding like a shambling, jagged, and brilliant mess of a band, yet the occasions where they could rightfully be described as "face-melting" have been few and far between.Rare Ravers is legitimately face-melting during its howling crescendos.Similarly, the sheer ingenuity of Morley and Russell warrants praise as well, as the two have somehow managed to avoid repeating themselves again and again despite their hyper-constrained palette of blown-out bass and feral feedback squall.It is like watching a magician keep pulling rabbits out of a hat that cannot possibly contain any more rabbits.The Dead C have been a fitfully great band for decades, but they have truly defied the odds and blossomed into a reliably formidable and tirelessly evolving unit over the last several years.For now, Rare Ravers feels like a high-water mark, but I have no doubt that Morley, Russell, and Yeats will soon surpass it if they continue on their present trajectory.
 
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Agora is Christian Fennesz's first solo album since Mahler Remixed [Touch, 2014] and Bécs [Editions Mego, 2014]. Fennesz writes: "It's a simple story. I had temporarily lost a proper studio workspace and had to move all my gear back to a small bedroom in my flat where I recorded this album. It was all done on headphones, which was rather a frustrating situation at first, but later on it felt like back in the day when I produced my first records in the 1990s. In the end it was inspiring. I used very minimal equipment; I didn't even have the courage to plug in all the gear and instruments which were at my disposal. I just used what was to hand."
Agora will be released March 29, 2019 on Touch.
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