For this latest lp, the Australian brother/sister duo Brothers Of The Occult Sisterhood have expanded their ranks a bit (for one of the two tracks here) and it definitely sounds like it. Sprawling and expansive, this limited lp only release on Students Of Decay give the Brothers a chance to spread waaaay out over two sides of vinyl, one song per, each a gorgeous abstract drift, the sort you could imagine going on and on and on and on long after they pushed stop on the tape recorded. For those new to the Sisterhood, the sound falls somewhere between the natural ramblings of Jewelled Antler, the Finnish forest folk of Avarus and Anaksimandros and Kemialliset Ystavat, and the extended ur-drone of groups like Birchville Cat Motel and Vibracathedral Orchestra. And while they do in fact touch on elements of all those sounds, they tend to wander through their own special soundworld, unstructured and alien, drifty and dreamlike.
The A side, with the extended lineup, is all kitchen clatter and abstract drum circle shuffle, bits of guitar here and there, snatches of piano, melodies sometimes, but mostly melodic fragments. It almost sounds like Hototogisu or Sunroof! but instead of amps and guitars, the Brothers just used whatever they found lying around the house, random household debris, junk, whatever. The result is the same sort of transcendental raga like droning tribal drift, but much more unhinged and rhythmic, some sort of primitive sonic ritual.
The flipside finds the Brothers as a duo again, and is another epic, less clattery this time and way more soft focus and ethereal, chimes and delicate drifting melodies, warbling drones, the tape changing speed sloooooowing down and speeding up, it sounds like floating through some sea of alien wind chimes. So lovely.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!! Packaged in cool handscreened sleeve with a printed insert.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This latest cd of Caspar Brotzmann's uber-heavy post-Hendrix guitar explorations is now released domestically, although that doesn't make it any cheaper (but it's in a jewel case now instead of a digipak, and if you're a digipack hater like Allan, that's a plus). Beautiful, psychedelic, very good, go Caspar!
Who doesn't love Peter Brotzmann and/or Han Bennink? If you're into skronky European free jazz craziness that is. Saxophonist Brotzmann is a hard-blowin' legend, and Han Bennink is not only a percussion whiz but also a strong "pro" argument in the whole does-humor-belong-in-music? debate. Teamed up here on this expanded (meaning there's a whole bonus disc with ten previously unreleased tracks!) reissue of what those in the know, know as the 1977 Bro-Ben Black Forest recordings, Brotzmann and Bennink actually did the Jewelled Antler natureboy thing here and took their instruments out into the forest to improvise amid the trees and birds and small curious animals. Along with a supply of bread and wine they toted with them an assortment of clarinets and saxophones, a banjo, a viola, some toys, birdcalls, cymbals, and suchlike sundry instruments -- Han had to make do without his customary drum kit, playing instead on tree trunks and rocks with branches and stones. Their free music got all that much freer for being loosed in the great outdoors, and these Black Forest sessions certainly brought forth all the wildman whimsy you'd expect from this duo. In some ways a precursor to the field recording aesthetic practiced today by the Jewelled Antler gang and all those Finnish free-freak-forest-folk outfits we all love, Schwarzwaldfahrt is replete with the gurgling sounds of water, birds twittering, primal yelps from Han and/or Peter, and other things you wouldn't normally hear in more "civilized" jazz recording. At one point, Han pounds (or splashes) out a stacatto rhythm on the surface of a stream or pond, and you can for sure tell how much fun they were having! So much, that they recorded a lot more music/sound than they could release at the time. They had to edit down their tapes to just one LP's worth of material for the original edition of this on FMP, but now Atavistic's Unheard Music Series has given them two whole compact discs to fill up, and it's a joy.
Year 2000 improv meeting betwixt European free-jazz titan Brotzmann (reeds) and Japanese improv veterans Haino (guitar) and Hano (percussion).
Described as "One part Devendra Banhart and one part Daniel Johnston", David Thomas Broughton is like a nu-folk version of Ariel Pink. Earnest and heartfelt, but so so so damaged and strange. Incorporating detuned guitars, struggling malfunctioning drum machines, simple lo-fi organs, circusy keyboards, simple finger picked melodies, struggling Casio drum machines, all tangled up in expansive ultra personal folk songs, but folk bathed in lo-fi effects, backwards guitar loops, shimmering ambience, tape hiss, and pretty much whatever else Broughton could get his hands on or figure out how to get some interesting noise out of.
The opening track "The Circle Is Never Complete" is a gorgeous fractured folk fairy tale, a little cabaret, a little torch song, the vocals mumbled and dripping with reverb, the melody melancholy and lilting, the organ slowing down and speeding up, pitches constantly changing, the guitar unfurling delicate melodies, buzzing and scraping, the drums, a stumbling skitter, the vocals occasionally leap out as parts of the song suddenly attain high fidelity before slipping back into muted murk. So dreamy and sweetly sorrowful.
The whole record is an amazing, gorgeous, curious, damaged, child like, forward thinking slab of what-the-fuck folk, some tracks are drawn out and expansive, others are brief little fragments, all woven together into some twisted personal narrative, but the highlight has to be "Gracefully Silent" an 8+ minute drift of simple strum and gorgeous backwards guitar, so instantly warm and memorable, the sort of part in a song, that breaks your heart, especially when it ends and the song moves on to another part. Thankfully, that first backwards shimmer and strum continues throughout the whole track, with the addition of all sorts of mumbled vocals and random conversations, the track just drifts along as if it might continue on forever...
A cobbled together collection of old unearthed tracks, It's In There Somewhere plays as if it was composed to be this single suite of songs, every track perfectly flowing into the next, the record a gorgeous patchwork of dark and moody songsmithery, ramshackle but meticulously crafted, personal and private, a fascinating and lovely abstract bit of damaged folk dreaminess.
Found a little handful of these tucked away in the closet, way out of print, last copies ever of this chunk of heavy noisy weirdness...
A greatest hits of sorts from these Wisconsin noisemakers. After several outrageously limited self released albums, mostly given to friends over the course of 4 years, this psycho redneck power electronic duo have remained almost totally unheard until now.
You did see the words power electronics above, so you know this ain't gonna be no easy listening, in fact, this is some seriously difficult listening, but surprisingly enough not in a harsh noise sort of way, this isn't just a continuous wall of Merzbowian white noise, the sounds here are surprisingly listenable, warped and cracked and damaged and fucked up, but for the iron eared, surprisingly pleasant. Jagged shards of fractured synths, chopped into strange rhythms, radio broadcasts buried in effects, loops colliding and overlapping, dense clouds of detuned instruments, amp buzz and tape hiss, howled distorted vox, some almost songs, tons of melting tones, babies crying over throbbing low end rumbles, thick billowing sheets of pulsating distorted crunch, tangled melodies so dense and blurred they become one huge squirming amorphous lump, distorted percussion, damaged tape player rehearsal tapes, and whatever the hell else these guys could come up with, all pulled apart, and jammed back together into heaping piles of thick droning, fucked up free form percussive and FX laden noise.
Definitely cool stuff, and for folks averse to truly harsh noise, Bruce Carkiss might just be your entree into a filthy, grimy, crusty soundworld you only dreamed about.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Using very lo-fi technology (mostly just broken tape recorders), Anton Bruhin has constructed a stunning musique concrete album of geometric irregularities, natural delay effects, and spiralling acoustic layers. A great example of lo-fi creativity.
An archival release of '70s cassette-tape works by this odd Swiss sound artist, consisting of environmental sounds, ping-pong recording techniques, and other spatial / audio experimentation. Byram thinks most of this is the sound of good European arts funding gone to waste, except for the last piece, which is an absolute mindnumbing half-hour palindromic recitation of German
On a side note: If you come into AQ fairly frequently you may have observed this customer we have that is always knocking shit off the counter. We want to say something to him but we're too embarrassed to confront his hamfistedness, so we're passive-aggressively mentioning it here, for 6000 people to enjoy. Well, said customer has acquired a young apprentice now, and one night the two of them came in together to polish up their anti-social skills. Anyway, the younger fella comes up to the counter to ask about this cd, if we have two of them -- cuz of course these guys must be peas in a pod -- so they can both get one. Well, turns out that the nicely sealed copies we showed 'em both had ever so slight dimples on the upper right hand corner (like a light impression made by a pointed object, so slight as to be practically invisible). Because of this, annoying apprentice desired the display copy instead. But if YOU can deal with the "invisible dimple", we've still got a couple copies.
One of many characters in the whole post-industrial diaspora who we have not really carried in part due to the difficulty in getting a hold of many of Brume's releases on small European imprints and in part due to not knowing where to start, especially with a catalog that tracks somewhere around 100 releases over 25 years. So, we'll take our cue from Drone Records and their Subtantia Innominata series of 10"s for this introduction into the woolly musique concrete and viral electronics from the French artist Christian Renou. His is a very creepy type of sound design with B-side backmasking, nightmarish vocals all laced throughout atonal, sci-fi tension, squiggled radiophonic explorations, and dark ambient swells, it's almost a cross between the incidental moments of the Logan's Run soundtrack and Coil's Musick To Play In The Dark. The A-side situates a low-end thrumming that's all brooding and ominous in the Svarte Greiner and Deathprod means of shadow-sound manipulation; but out of nowhere comes a crushed horn that's probably a saxophone, but sounds way more like a Tibetan horn with an unkempt scratchiness and apocalyptic fervor made all the more evident through a slow and heavy mechanical iron-on-stone hammering that brings this track to its definitive end.
Jon Brumit's last audio outing was a a sonic tour through the city dump, a dark delirious soundscape of found sounds, rickety malfunctioning equipment, all manner of scratched records and discarded tape decks, broken down computers, all cleverly and gorgeously woven together into one of the coolest weirdest records we've heard. On Vendetta Retreat, the soundtrack to a yet to be released film, Brumit seems to have honed those already impressive organizational and compostitional skills, resulting in a record that had both Allan and Andee running to the front of the store to see what the heck was playing. In fact everytime we play this in the store everyone wants to know what we're playing as well. Vendetta Retreat starts off as a super minimal slab of "skipping cd" style plunderphonia, a super intense and spare soundscape of ultra brief fragments of found record, bursts of electric guitar, the briefest snatch of a vocal line, tiny frgaments of record crackle -- not sure if Brumit's sound source is still the junkyard, but it definitely sounds like maybe it is. These sparse musical fragments create a strange disembodied melody, jagged and compellingly imprecise. Eventually, the empty space behind these bursts and shards fills up with a darkly propulsive electronic framework, minimal and murky, a distant framework for the Brumit's strange Jeck-style broken turntable workout.
The second track takes the rough edit sound collage of the first track and fills it out with wild octopoidal tribal drumming, massive swells of cymbal sizzle and percussive bombast and wave after wave of layered drones, guitars thick with distortion and other effects, hiccupping loops buried beneath, barely audible, adding more texture than anything else, a huge swirl of rumble and whir like a noisier more abstract Growing, or Finnish hypnorockers Circle at their most unhinged and densely ambient. The final track is the logical extension of the track before, taking a dense swath of droney dirge as its fundamental loop, a repeating hypntotic stuttering krautrocky groove, that goes on and on and on (and if we had our way would keep going on and on forever). Imagine your favorite Circle record or some classic Faust track, with a scratch right in the middle, so it skips repeatedly, an unintentional loop, the perfect pulsing hypno riff, the best chunk of hazy repetitive riffing you can imagine, then over the top drape bits of gentle guitar filligree and clouds of disembodied notes. So amazing. One of those tracks that need never stop, we'd be happy to just drift off and bliss out until the end of time. The track evenutally falls apart, the riffs fade and dissipate, the jagged bursts of sound fragments return, this time even more strangely obtrusive, and wreathed in dense halos of echo and delay that send those shards reverberating into the ether, while underneath, the original minimal groove returns, also a bit more affected and damaged, until the whole thing fragments into its constituent parts before finally blinking out with one final blast of disembodied sound. Wow. Can't wait to see the film. And actually the film will be a compilation of clips and shorts collected over the next year, there's information on how to submit footage inside the cd. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!
"1000 Fehler" (translated as 1000 Errors) is a fusion of the spoken theory-fragments by Adilkno
(Foundation of the Advancement of Illegal Knowledge/Amsterdam) and gossamer electronica-concrete pulses by Br�sseler Platz 10a-Musik - a Cologne collective with Georg Odijk, Jan St. Werner (Mouse On Mars), and Marcus Schmickler (Pluramon). Bored of academic culture pessimism, the authors of Adilkno are "dedicated to illegal knowledge and research degenerated tendencies of the roaring every day life in media." Along with the spoken text (which you should know is in German), the ghost of Thomas Brinkmann's phase patterned techno haunts the musical contribution.
Not only do the Grey Daturas kick up a serious noiserock ruckus, they also run their own cd-r label, the mysteriously titled Diagnosis... Don't! There are three new releases, and we managed to get a handful of each.
These guys have a soft spot in their little black hearts for NOISE with a capital N, as do we, and here comes Brutal Snake to give it to us. BUT, this isn't shrieking hissing facemelting noise, no, this is dark and ominous, creepy crawly, rumbling dronelike noise, which just happens to be our favorite. Lengthy expanses of black ambience, slow burning swells of muted guitar fuzz, deep cavernous tremors rumbling in the background, like watching black clouds drift by, each a gauzy wisp of low end shimmer, slowly changing shapes and spreading out across the sky. Totally and gorgeous and foreboding.
SUPER LIMITED cd-r (aren't they all?) ONLY 50 COPIES!!! Packaged in a cool stiff textured paper sleeve, with a complicated folded over Japanese style obi holding the disc in place, with the liner notes printed on the inside.
The latest from (now) local label Moon Glyph, comes from Minneapolis trio Brute Heart, who were commissioned by Walker Art Center to perform a new score for the legendary German expressionist film The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari. Their usual arrangement of bass, drums, viola and keyboard, expanded here to include analog synth and cello, which makes for something spectacularly spectral and spacey, the new score begins with a shuffling minimal pop, that slowly blossoms into something much more ethereal and ambient, swirling voices and shimmering synths, all wedded to a slither bass pulse and a hypnotic rhythm of kick drum and brushed snare, all wreathed in soft billows of space-y FX. That pretty much sets the scene as it were, BH weaving lush, smoldering soundscapes, haunting and moody, delicate keyboard melodies swathed in swoonsome strings, many of the tracks with a sort of chamber jazz feel, appropriately old timey, but others sounding surprisingly modern, futuristic even, giving the music and mood of the film a nice tweak.
Some of the tracks here sound almost like weird hybrids of Stereolab and Portishead, a sort of downtempo shuffle here, a creepy crawly shuffle there. Swoonsome ballads, unwind languorously alongside ominous buzzing spaced out dronescapes, replete with ghostly female vox and dreamlike strings, while other tracks get downright noise, and a little chaotic, shuffling dark jazziness wreathed in clouds of crackle, and field of glitch and glimmer, all blurring into a woozy soft focus psychedelia. And still others have a classic baroque pop vibe, think the New Lines or even a more minimal abstract Beach Boys. Even (especially?) removed from the images, Brute Heart's score is a dark gem, one that we've been listening to like crazy, and which has us really wanting to see the film with the groups gorgeous new accompaniment.
Not sure we remember much about Gavin Bryars original Sinking Of The Titanic, or at least past recordings and performances. We do remember digging it. A dark elegiac meditation on the sinking of that ship obviously, but also a musical metaphor for the failure of modern technology, the piece is open, and can be as short as 15 minutes, and as long as an hour plus, lots of low end, Bryars is a bass player after all, lots of samples and spoken text. That is one thing we do remember, that there tended to be way too much sampling and spoken text.
This latest performance, finds Bryars reimagining his pieces with two new collaborators, who help give the piece a whole new sound and feel. One is Italian avant chamber outfit Alter Ego, the other is long time AQ fave Philip Jeck. It's difficult to determine what Alter Ego contribute, much of the atmosphere and ambient sound and classical instrumentation we would assume, but it's not hard at all to hear what Jeck brings to the table, records and record players, hiss and crackle. It's perfect really, his gauzy dusty sonic smears, help transform the piece into a haunting snapshot from the past, an old yellowed newspaper clipping, a faded memory.
Right from the start, the piece begins with a thick layer of staticky crackle, laid over a murky throbbing bass, eventually, the crackles moving to the background, letting the soft drifting passages come to the surface, like sonic glaciers floating on a sea of hiss and fuzz, fragments of melody, and bowed strings lurk just below the surface. There's plenty of text in this version too, samples, sounds, voices, but they too are blurred and smeared and become more like voices from the past, calling out from the beyond, the thoughts and fears of ghosts and spirits. Throughout, the mood and timbre shifts, from deep murky minimalism, to soaring dramatic majesty, always slightly uneasy, subtly ominous, a gorgeously dark and mysterious trip into the past.
Not knowing better, you could definitely mistake this for a new Jeck solo record, a roomful of turntables with records by Arvo Part spinning at 16rpm, but it's more than a sonic collage, The Sinking Of The Titanic is a stunning composition, the melodies and movements, the mood and mystery, carry as much meaning as the players and their sound.
Housed in a deluxe oversized cardstock gatefold, with lots of liner notes in lieu of cover art. Cool.
From the label that brought you Corporal Blossom, Mutated Christmas, etc. is this puzzling audio work from P Miles Bryson. Ostensibly inspired by the films of Jodorowsky, it borrows from said movies and also adds lots of ambient sounds of children at
Packaging includes a Mexican spice packet with some chiles.
The last record we listened to by Harold Budd was his collaboration with Brian Eno from 1980, reissued late last year. To Eno's shimmering ambient soundtrack world, Budd added his maudlin, melodic, sometimes syrupy piano figures. Not sure what Budd has been up to these last 25 years, but here we are in 2005 and we find ourselves with a new Harold Budd record. While we're sure he has indeed been busy these last two and a half decades, this release sort of caught our attention for two reasons, it was released on David Sylvian's Samadhisound label, and it's two discs, with the second disc being a seventy minute reworking of one of the tracks on the first disc. We love that kind of stuff!
So we're happy to report that this is an absolutely glorious, dreamy otherworldly listen. Constructed mostly from piano, synthesizer, strings, saxophone, bass flute and minimal percussion (mostly chimes and bells), Avalon Sutra is a slow moving, somber and contemplative dream world, New Age ambience smeared into a drifting world of indistinct blurs. Melancholy piano lines drift beneath warm chordal swells and distant twinkling chimes. New Age might actually be the sticking point in the above description for a lot of folks, but when you get right down to it, this is indeed New Age music. It's soft and mellow and could definitely pass as massage or meditation music, but that said, it's also lush and tranquil and hypnotic, the perfect drifting off and drifting away music. The soundtrack to a series of images, floating by on the periphery, subtle, simple and smooth. Then there's disc two, an hour plus extended bliss out. Like William Basinski, Oval, the Necks and the Balanescu Quartet all smeared and stretched into a dreamy, gauzy, slowly shifting, hypnotically looped cycle of minor key melancholia. Co-produced by David Sylvian and Akira Rabelais (who also helped mix and perform it). So gorgeous. Even if the first disc borders on being too New Agey for you (which it shouldn't necessarily), the second disc is most definitely an essential chunk of moody, mesmerizing, tranced out instrumental ambience!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Forget about the Pop Ambient series, and other modern dreamy music makers, when it comes to simply stunning, calming and beautiful sounds it just doesn't get better then Harold Budd. Now 75 years old, and showing no signs of losing his immaculate touch, In The Mist is quickly becoming one of our favorite Budd records ever. This is how we like his music the best, just Budd and a piano, so stripped down and minimal, yet able to conjure up such a majestic and otherworldly soundworld. Slowly drifting and gliding with an ease and emotional warmth that allows you to tune out the noise of the outside world and return to a place of peaceful surrender. What makes Budd's music so special is that in any other hands the sounds would just be pleasant but not much more, but Budd has this amazing knack for masterful phrasing that injects soft melancholy and real bliss into his compositions.
It makes such great sense that in so many ways Harold Budd is an artist's music maker. We know so many great visual artists who play Budd's music in their studio as it really does give you a clean slate to work from, erasing the clutter and annoyances of everyday life and softly guiding you into places that are filled with spirit and soul. Beyond beautiful!
We've never listed this ambient, avante-garde masterpiece before and when we realized it was Harold Budd's 75th birthday last week, we figured it was the perfect time to honor the man, and the amazing dreamy sounds he has given us over the years.
While best known to some for his collaborations with Brian Eno, and Cocteau Twins, there is also the deep well to explore of his vast solo catalog. But for many, Pavilion Of Dreams originally released in 1978, ranks as one of his best, a perfect melding of 20th century composition and warm, weightless shimmery ambience, creating pieces fragile and prismatic, as if they were suspended in glistening, glimmering bubbles.
While piano is at the center of Pavilion Of Dreams, there is some of the most sensual and dreamy sax we've ever heard, played by Marion Brown, a wildly under-appreciated free jazz artist who played with everyone from John Coltrane to Anthony Braxton, as well as an extensive catalog of his own recordings that deserve to be explored.
The album opens with the 18 minute "Bismillahi 'Rrahmani 'Rrahim", a track that feels like a passage from one of Alice Coltrane's most majestic tracks taken to a new age inside a mystical castle looking over the ocean. Then there's the mezzo-soprano classical vocals of Lynda Richardson are featured in the second and third tracks of the album. Don't let them scare you away. Even if you are not usually a fan of opera or classical vocals, Budd uses them in such drifting and compelling ways. They would have been perfect for a chilling scene in a Stanley Kubrick film. The album closes with "Juno", one of the most perfect ambient daydreams of all time. We realized we've said the word 'dreamy' a ton of times in this review, and well the album is called Pavilion of Dreams, and even though the term dreamy is so often overused, this is a record that really does take you to another state of consciousness. We hear the influence of this recording on so many of our favorite artists like William Basinski, Circle (on Miljard), Colleen, Seefeel, Johan Johansson, Sigur Ros, The Knife, The Durutti Column, Michael Harrison, Koss, Klimek and more... Absolutely essential!
For a label inspired in spirit by Brian Eno's legendary Obscure imprint, we bet once-local label Root Strata was super psyched to be able to release a Harold Budd recording, especially one so incredibly beautiful. Perhaps is a live 2006 recording performed at Cal Arts on the occasion of the memorial of former academic colleague, composer and friend James Tenney. This 75 minute completely improvised piece is Budd at his most moving and restrained. Inspired by a kind of oblique instruction or aphorism given to Budd by Tenney in the seventies, that suggested something "very long, nearly white", Budd creates elegiac clusters of melodic fragments and stretches them out letting long notes decay and drift, never seeming to repeat himself. Only previously available digitally, this is the first time Perhaps has been released in a physical format and comes with absolutely the highest recommendation!!!!
Never really imagined we'd hear Grouper's Liz Harris toasting on a ragga / dancehall record, and sadly, we still haven't, but she does lend her voice to the opening track on this, the first record from The Bug, aka Kevin Martin, since 2008's London Zoo (not counting a handful of singles). While we were envisioning Liz getting all Lady Saw, instead, it probably is more like you might imagine, the vocals still ethereal and gauzey, over a surprisingly subdued Martin production, that makes this sound more like Portishead, although a bit more brooding and tense, with some sinister synths, some tightly coiled rhythms, and some bleak atmospheres, and somehow, it works, really well, enough that we wouldn't mind hearing a whole record of Bug / Grouper collabs.
The second track is actually sonically quite similar, a dark sort of trip hoppy vibe, but with some seriously thick, rib cage rattling bass, the vibe though still sort of nocturnal and smoldering, a lot like "Ascension" another low slung brooder, big beats, and lots of hiss and crunch and static, but still pretty subdued and slithery. "Mi Lost" cranks the volume a bit, but again, it's much less bombastic than London Zoo, and with way more of a focus on female vocalists, Miss Red doing the honors on "Mi Lost", a tangled ragga dub groover, with wild hi-hat skitter, and spacey drifty synths behind a seriously funky groove. "Pandi" is almost all organ, a dense, tense sprawl of throbbing drones, and lush layered thrum, the beats, when they do surface, more sort of pulsing and crackling and textural. And so it goes. The sound veering toward a late night somnambulence, Gonjasufi guests on the creepy slo-mo-soul dub of "Save Me" replete with super dramatic strings, and billowy clouds of soft focus static.
It's not really until "The One", that things get bangin', with Flowdan joining in for a fucked up fierce grime workout, a crunching big beat, some Twilight Zone melodic stabs, machine gun rhythms (literally) and plenty of noisy chaos, culminating in a dense, distorted finale. The follow up "Function", is another grime-y blowout, with some awesome rapping from Manga, over a bed of gristly, ultra-distorted bass buzz, and suddenly it occurred to us, that okay, we must be in the 'Devils' half of Angels & Devils, duh.
Anyway, the rest of the record plays out sonically devilishly as intended, maybe the only misstep is the collab with Death Grips, which has its moments, but is ultimately mostly annoying, especially when you hear "Fat Mac" which comes right afterward. That track's a crushing chunk of doom-dubstep, if there is such a thing (there is now), thick, lumbering beats, insane, distorted guitar buzz, maybe riffage, or maybe just blown out synths molded into something totally metallic. Wow. Couple more ragga / dubstep / grime bangers to finish things off, the first with longtime Bug collaborator, Warrior Queen, and one more with Flowdan, who kind of ends up being the surprise star of Angels & Devils...
Tape hiss, simple melodies, mechanical rhythms, dubby reverb... Nice! We're diggin' on the 16 tracks, 33 minutes�of blissful, bedroom-recorded Casio-dub instrumental music here, this cd-r being the second solo joint from Oakland's Adam Bugaj, a Pennsylvania transplant who played "lysergic barn rock" with underground psych acts Peacefeather and Clear Spots back in PA. Rather than rockin' out, though, this is lazy Sunday stoned music from the man, lo-fi DIY mesmerism, like a Jewelled Antler production of home-brewed Kompakt techno, shimmering with hiss and distortion. 'Tis spacey and mellow, sometimes subverted by sudden manual tape edits... Throw in a bit of Fahey folky guitar ramble here or there, and broken electronics that get accidentally cosmic and Cluster-like, with echoey keys, heartbeat drum machine pulses, minimal drones, fractured rhythms... Imagine, maybe, a more outsider version of Pantha Du Prince, recorded on, like, $15 worth of yard sale equipment and cheap cassette tapes. Yes it's pretty nice!
We first discovered this band on our favorite radio show, Radiolab (like a way nerdier, science focused, Negativland produced This American Life), Buke and Gass being a boy/girl duo who made a sort of chaotic ramshackle folk flecked noise pop on homemade instruments, pretty sure Buke was shorthand for a baritone ukulele and Gass is a weird guitar bass hybrid, but regardless, these two make a seriously big noise, crunchy jagged riffage, over simple percussion, usually just a bass drum boom, or a tambourine jangle, a sort of two man (woman) version of a one man band, each handling their stringed instruments, while pounding out the rhythm with their feet, then there's the homemade speakers and amplifiers, it all makes for a curious sight, and an even curiouser sound, a sort of wild and loose folky swampy blues / indie rock hybrid, the vocals powerful, the instruments surprisingly lush, the rhythms simple and hypnotic, the melodies all over the place, some weird Thinking Fellers / PJ Harvey / Sixteen Horsepower / Decemberists hybrid, a bit of a backwoods steampunk vibe too, but all filtered through a killer indie pop sense that makes every song here a dark unforgettable gem.
Besides being so damn cool to look at, these see through cassettes are embedded with some of the most entrancing and drift worthy music ever, courtesy of Bulbs!
Made for an art show at 381 Projects in Toronto with visual artist Tracy Maurice, Bulbs tapped into a much more dreamlike and effervescent sound then we've heard from them previously. Using drums, oscillator, Arp, guitar and a one string talker (!), the duo of Bulbs create some serious magical alchemy akin to early '70s Klaus Schulze and the inter-dimensional music of Iasos, if those sounds were floating underwater alongside exotic sea creatures and mystical aquatic plants. We've liked everything we've heard from Bulbs up to this point, including William Sabiston's great and sadly out of print Jyrk release as Ball Lightning and his contributions to recordings by Axolotl. But this just might be our favorite Bulbs recording yet. We get the feeling that Sabiston and the other half of Bulbs, Jon Almaraz, had lots of fantastical thoughts in their heads while recording Infirmary Of Dream, as this really taps into some magical landscapes, making us imagine what this duo could create if they were tapped to produce soundtracks for surreal nature films on some sort of alternate Discovery Channel. Imagine if Seefeel were stripped to its most minimal and merged with the most dreamy aspects of Popul Vuh. Only 50 of these were made and we only have a handful so you know what that means....
Basic Channel. Jyrk. Free jazz. Put those things together and you've got an idea of what's in store with Light Ships, the band's first release on Pete Swanson's new label Freedom to Spend. Fellow noiseniks out there will definitely remember Swanson's old label Jyrk, but whereas that label seemed to revolve mostly around his Yellow Swans related releases, this seems more of a label proper. Getting back to the record at hand, Bulbs is a two man collaboration between former Axolotl member William Sabiston (some of you might have been lucky enough to get a copy of his super limited release under the name Ball Lightning) and John Almaraz, who left San Francisco earlier this year to embark on some backpacking across the globe. We checked out what a few people had to say about the record, and the one thing that keeps coming up is techno, techno, techno. Well, to be fair, there is a propulsive element to this record, which may be the only truly linear thing present. And yes, sometimes it is an electronic kick drum. Still, it seems that the greatest influences here are free jazz and African polyrhythms and syncopation. Those who checked out any of the recent Monopoly Child Star Searchers albums, then you're maybe understanding what we're talking about, though Light Ships features significantly higher production quality. Still, if this record is any indication as to what's in store for Freedom to Spend, then we're confident that we will be recommending a healthy dose of their bands and/or projects.
We can only listen to so much music in our lifetimes. That's a sad fact, one we all have to come to terms with. Or not. But if you're like us, and if you're reading this, you probably are, then much of your life is spent trying to do just that. Listen to as much amazing music as possible. And at some point, like us, you realize that your biggest fear about dying, is that there will be so much music you won't get to hear, well then, that's when you up your game, and decide to make every moment count, and listen to music ALL THE TIME. But even then, there's only so much time in the day, and the night, and you have to eat, and work, and maybe watch TV, hang out with your significant other, and yeah, most of that stuff you can do WHILE you listen to music, but odds are some music is gonna slip by you, no matter how insanely obsessive you are. So now, take the music you already own and want to listen to, and add to that a constant influx of new music to check out, which is what happens here, and while we LOVE that, so much amazing new music and so many fantastic discoveries, it really can end up being too much. We get overwhelmed, and well, we miss out on some stuff, which is exactly what happened with World, by Aussie shoegaze noise rockers the Bunyip Moon. We were cleaning up, and organizing, and going through boxes and drawers, and discovered this cd, and threw it on, and were immediately blown the fuck away. Struck by all sorts of feelings, feeling bad for taking so long to give it a listen, feeling like we COULD have been listening to this already for ages, but mostly feeling like we had to get this reviewed so all you folks out there could add one more amazing record to the stack of music already waiting to be listened to. But here's where we suggest you bump the Bunyip Moon to the front of the queue, cuz holy shit is this great.
And great in that way that makes what it sounds like actually pretty tough to describe. The vibe is sorts of nineties, shoegaze-y for sure, but with a bit of a gloomy feel, deep dramatic vocals buried in the mix to the point of being nearly inaudible, everything buried beneath super distorted and blown out, crumbling and hiss drenched fuzz and buzz and thrum, total blissed out heart-of-the-sun noise-gaze dreaminess, and the drums, wow, the drums are super distorted too, bursts of wild tribal rhythms that almost sounds like swarms of bees, each song a churning jangle flecked squall of noise drenched indie rock / noise rock, at times we hear Crystal Stilts, at times Loop, at others Bailter Space, even a little Dinosaur Jr., lots of NZ Flying Nun, at least the weirder, heavier stuff, and of course all the Australian bands we love, Celibate Rifles, the Scientists, Lubricated Goat, etc, but here those influences are blurred into something fuzzy and washed out and gloriously and blissfully noisy, this IS one of those records, where we're tempted to just have a single sentence review that says "BUY THIS! It's so great, it's all we want to listen to, it's fuzzy and poppy and noisy and psychedelic, and it's one of the best things we've heard in ages, and we've been listening to it non-stop to make up for all the time it languished unlistened to." And we definitely traffic in hyperbole in our reviews, but believe us that nothing in this review is hyperbolic, this band, and this record is so goddamn good, their sound is exactly what we want to listen to, it's the sort of band we wish we played in, it's damn near perfect, warm and fuzzy, noisy and dreamy, the production is bizarre, but bizarrely perfect, it's druggy and psychedelic, and seriously heavy, twisted and experimental, laced with loops and bizarre effects, for every bit of distorto crunch, there's some super melodic jangle, more often then not, the two mashed together, there are long stretches of brooding moodiness, extended hypno-rock epics, short bursts of furious noise pop, and sprawling near-Godspeed slow builds, and even some gloomy almost new wave, and it all sounds so goddamn good. If these guys had popped up on Slumberland they'd be HUGE right now. They should be, and if all is right in the universe, WILL be, cuz really, this is easily some of the best jangle pop / noise rock / shoegaze we've ever heard.
A reissued 12" from one of this list's Record of the Week artists, Burial, who unleashes a lurching, shuffling, deep and dense mix of murky grimy dubstep. Equal parts minimal dub, slowed down grime, and super slow motion jungle.
This 12", originally released last year, features what sounds like an alternate version of one of the album tracks, sort of slowed down and more blissed out. The other track is WAY more drum and bass, a mumbled 16 rpm jungle stutter, with a definite grime vibe and a super dense chaotic rhythmic coda! So cool.
This record has totally knocked us for a loop. An impossible mix of grimy dubstep, murky triphop, and minimal spaced out dub. When we first threw this on we were immediately transported back to when we first heard Massive Attack, or Portishead, and a whole new world suddenly opened up to us. A creepy, muted world of barebones beats and haunting atmospheres that would go on to inform our musical tastes forever.
This is the first release on Hyperdub, a label run by grime/dubstep DJ Kode9, and we expected a blasting barrage of grimy beats, but instead, were sucked into a swirling vortex of late night groove and midnight stutter. Think those Rhythm And Sound Burial Mix eps, mixed with some Pole-like glitched out dub, and some slow burning Portishead smolder. Creepy and crawly, mysterious and moody. Beats suspended in a black shimmering fog, snippets of vocals, crooning, toasting, drenched in reverb, chopped up and let loose to drift over super dark, muffled dubscapes. Huge rumbling bass lines, like distant foghorns, dreamy ambience sort of drifting and ethereal but so so ominous. Tiny sonic sparkles glimmer like some alien sonar, drifting dreamily through fuzzy darkness. Drowned and submerged grooves, all muffled muted melody and shuffling minimal beats. Suffocating atmospheres of low end thrum, record crackle and shortwave interference. Some sort of slithering slinky dubstep shuffle slowed waaaaaaaaay down, into a blackened glacial dub jam. So fucking awesome. Our newest every night late night listen. A record of perfect dark and damaged dubbed out lullabies.
Second vinyl only offering from this low end subsonic super group, made up of Greg Anderson (SUNNO))), Southern Lord head honcho), Oren Ambarchi, and legendary black metal vocalist Attila Csihar (Mayhem, Tormentor, Aborym)�
For this outing, Ambarchi and Anderson are credited with sub bass death throb, while Attila is responsible for undead voices. And that's pretty much what it sounds like, sub bass throbs with haunting undead vocals woven into the heaving roiling mass. There seem to be some guitars in there too, maybe some electronics, but it's hard to tell, it's all smeared into a single swirling blackened mass. When we first listened to it, we played it at 33 (which we're assuming now is NOT the right speed, so hard to tell sometimes), and we thought, wow, this is even slower and sludgier than ever, but once we figured out it was meant to be 45, the sound reverted back, closer to the sound of SUNNO))) or the older records of their forbears Earth. Slow motion riffage, glacial and thick, massive and blown out and super distorted, muffled and murky, a sluggish sprawl of caustic crumbling guitars, the vocals barely audible, a haunting raspy growl way down in the mix, often just sounding like another buzzing bassline, hum and fuzz, dense and intense, all melted down into a viscous black crawl. Occasionally, the random bits of riffage and low end rumble coalesce into truly gorgeous harmonies, lovely and chordal, like some blackened church organ, but for the most part, this is the sound of guitar tones allowed to ring out forever and beat against each other, the air filled with oscillating overtones and strange tonal colorations, all beneath a patina of thick black buzz.
Amazing cover art as well, a gross out gutted worm picture disc, with a transparent skull and bugs insert on one side, and another sick silkscreened artwork overlay on the thick plastic sleeve, all courtesy of Mr. Seldon Hunt.
Recorded live, in January of this year, in Holland. And of course, you had to know this part was coming:
LIMITED TO 3000 COPIES!! And if it's anything like the other Burial Chamber record, it will sell out FAST.
Not to be confused with the recently listed Grave Temple cd we reviewed, The Burial Chamber Trio is basically exactly the same as Grave Temple, just swap out one SUNNO))) for another. So it's still Oren Ambarchi and Attila Csihar, but this time it's Southern (Over)Lord Greg Anderson instead Of Stephen O'Malley, and where as the Grave Temple was a cd, this is VINYL ONLY. And while in some ways there are sonic similarities, the sound of the Burial Chamber Trio is much more aligned with the sounds of the mothership (aka SUNNO)))) than Grave Temple.
Two sidelong tracks, vocals, guitars, bass, and electronics, with Anderson trading in his axe for a bass guitar, Side A begins with swirling clouds of FX, electronics, weird processed vocals, before Ambarchi's guitars roll in, sounding not at all unlike SUNNO))), huge and buzzing, left to drone and rumble and pulse, a blackened mysterious slow motion riff, dripping and crumbling over the black abyss. Speaking of black, this wouldn't have sounded at all out of place on Black One, strangled vocals, the churning riffage, the black ambience, near the end of the side, everything erupts into a furious melee of processed guitarnoise, swooping electronics, damaged voices, everything hissing and whirring and rumbling and shrieking before fading out completely.
The B side is much more tranquil, almost no vocals, even more SUNNO)))-like, the same basic ingredients as the first side, but more spread out and blissed out, the guitar a slow motion wall of sound, cutting a huge swath through a sea of buzz and drone, an endlessly hypnotic ur-drone, that ends up sounding more spacey and psychedelic but still plenty heavy...
LIMITED TO 2000 COPIES. Vinyl only. Amazing black gloss on black matte artwork by Seldon Hunt.
Clay Ruby's long running Burial Hex project is a tough outfit to pin down, with a sound that's in constant flux, from oppressive necro electronics, to haunting cinematic strings, to crumbling industrial dronemusic, to ritual lo-fi ambience. Now, on In Psychic Defense, we get a whole 'nother side of that sound. The opener is a strange, bit of gothic balladry, a grim torch song, with skittery programmed beats, beneath spidery psych folk filigree, thick warmly, woozy basslines, and Ruby's dramatic croon, nestled amidst swirls of chordal organ thrum, dense rumbles... but soon, that sound dissipates, leaving just a sonic shadow / skeleton, minimal swells, tinkling Goblin like melodies, suspended in a sprawl of hushed shimmer, haunting and moody, this stretch of brooding ambience, peppered with bursts of caustic noise, whispered vox, more slippery, sinewy bass - and then a surprising, almost hour music coda, the grim whispers and haunting drones woven into a skittery funky beat, before devolving into a final burst of low end pulses. The second track is another sprawling epic, and is another sonic aboutface, rooted in some sort of martial industrial music, a muted, murky rhythm, sweeping synth swirls, and some creepy processed vokills, it's another gloomy ballad, but this one more tripped out and almost dubby, those swoonsome string-like shimmers faded and washed out, and like the first track, there's another unexpected detour into some straight up dance music, a looped groove, also pretty house, underpinned by some of the shadowy sonics from the first part of the song, but for the most part, weirdly groovy funk, before it too transforms into a bleak psych-drone outdo.
Those two tracks make up more than half of the record, with the relatively shorter tracks exploring still more unfamiliar territory, with a real dance music bent surfacing throughout, "Fantasie" sounds like Coil at their danciest, "Und Fuge" is all glimmering synths and percolating cosmic melodies, while "To Birth The Rotted Sun" returns to the gothic doom-ed balladry of the opener, with distorted percussion, and pounded piano, wreathed in strange electronic squiggle, and pocked with weird effects, but then instead of a croon, the vocals explode in a hysterical shriek, the rhythm bursting into chaos right alongside, a weird sort of black metal / industrial torch song / neo-folk hybrid, that's pretty strange, and really cool.
Finally, "(Or: War)" is a sprawl of power electronics, dense tangles of misfiring circuitry and analog sputter, all draped over moaning low end slo-mo melodies, and pitch shifted crooning, culminating in closer "The Tower", another weirdo industrial funk workout, low slung bass, a pulsing rhythm, squelchy low end, smears of gristly static, echoey clouds of chordal thrum, but all anchored by some seriously funky grooviness. There's definitely a high WTF factor here, but then that's pretty much the case with all the Burial Hex records. Cool, weird stuff for sure!
Clay Ruby is one busy guy. He runs the awesome Skulls Of Heaven label. He fronts free folk weirdos Davenport. He also does time in Jex Thoth (aka Totem), albeit under a different name, and he produces his own brand or ritual musical blackness as Burial Hex.
The last record from Burial Hex we listed was an lp that bore the legend, "OPPRESSIVE NECRO ELECTRONICS!" which in fact that record was, buzzy and blurry and grinding and grim, but the opening of this disc is anything but, ominous strings, very cinematic, moan and drift, melodies abstract and spare, stretch out and sprawl like a graveyard fog. Slowly, other sounds enter the mix, percussion, rumbling drones, strange beastly growls, eventually, the tranquility is shattered by what sounds like a descent into hell, anguished wails, squalls of strings, screams and shrieks, more growling and grunting, which soon give way to an avalanche of crumbling distorted noise, feedback, and amp buzz, whirs and grinding glitch, a serious wall of intense blown out fury, but the track finishes off like it began, haunting strings, ominous melodies, dark and dramatic.
The rest of the disc (4 tracks total, all 18 minutes or more) slips between super minimal crumbling drone, murky buzz, throbbing industrial whirs, medieval sounding dark ambience, simple muted percussion, chanted voices, processed guitar, creepy carnivalesque keyboards, buzzing raga-like drones, swampy faux field recordings, skittery electronics, insect like chirps and twitters, shortwave radio broadcasts, shimmering fuzz drenched drifts, all very scary and filmic, in fact much of this, especially the more musical bits, sound like they could have been pulled from some lost Argento movie, or some lost Italian horror classic. Which is indeed a very good thing.
Packaged in a cool origami style folded and silkscreened sleeve, with multiple printed inserts.
On first glance, one might assume this would be some seriously grim black metal. The cover is skeletal branches against a washed out sky. All of the text is in a distressed olde English font. On the insert lurks a strange cloaked skull figure hidden in the darkness. The songs have titles like "Nightstalking The Unsilent Boneyard", "The Storm Of Ancient Nightcrawler", "Feasting The Nightsoil Communion".
But lo and behold, this is anything but black metal. According to the legend inside, this is OPPRESSIVE NECRO ELECTRONICS! Which indeed it is.
The opening track does in fact sound like nightstalking an unsilent boneyard, foot steps, crunching gravel (bones underfoot?), electronic rumbles, harsh demonic whispers, streaks of fuzzed out high end, and corrosive rumbling drones underneath. Strange pulsing riffs seem to be smeared into indistinct blurs, all wrapped in spikey caustic buzz and lots of rumble and crackle.
Elsewhere, grinding electronics drift amidst dense industrial whirs, fragmented melodies bob on the surface like corpses, the background a roiling black sea of thrum and buzz, constantly swirling and changing shape. Seriously dark and demonic. A killer slab of black ambience. OPPRESSIVE NECRO ELECTRONICS indeed!
A tour only lp from long time faves Burial Hex, aka Clay Ruby who also ran the amazing Skulls Of Heaven label, and who here has joined up with the mysterious Kinit Her for a twisted collection of psychedelic ritualistic acid folk, but laced with bits of industrial crunch and electronic buzz, strange almost black metal vocals, and mysterious field recordings.
Haunting, and ominous, long streaks of feedback and buzzing electronics are blurred into extended drones, peppered with minimal martial percussion, steel string guitar buzz, bits of avant Appalachia, bits of twang, soft swirls of effects, and strange strident vocals, that are definitely reminiscent of Comus (!), a little demented and frenzied and intense. Murky crumbling soundscapes drift beneath clouds of frantic psychedelic leads, simple motorik drumming locked into simple hypnotic grooves, underpinned by flurries of bombinating guitars, then a second set of vocals, even more strange, howled and hellish, almost sampled sounding, struggling to be heard through the mix, only making them sound more hysterical.
The flip side offers up another side of this collaborative ritualistic folk, this time, it's just piano, picking out a mournful melody over a field recording of crickets, the piano occasionally erupting into manic dense bursts of notes, over the whole thing some super freaky, gurgled demonic vox, a strange juxtaposition for sure, made even strange by soaring strings, and mysterious bits of industrial crunch, of twisted electronic percussion, and the vocals, howled and shrieked and even more intense than before, all over that creeping minor key piano.
So disturbing and fantastically bizarre, haunting and in its own twisted way, quite lovely, a warped modern more industrial take on Comus style seventies freak folk, which totally manages to capture the same sort of witchy occultic vibe via these satanically sinister ritualistic sounds...
LIMITED TO 250 COPIES!! We have less than 15!
While we wait for the impending full length from local droned out cinematic psychedelic heavies Burial Tree, we've got this two song 'cassingle' teaser to hold us over, and to give us a taste of what's coming. This nice priced tape features one song from the upcoming album, and a live in the studio version of a song from the first album. The new track is a beast, an effects drenched psychedelic space rock blow out, heavy and blissed out, an extended trance-y psych jam that should have fans of the current crop of space-psych warriors wondering why they hadn't heard Burial Tree before. The reworked older track is a more brooding and laid back affair, lo-fi and blissed out, a twang flecked post rock that builds to a churning metallic dirge, before getting all spaced out and slipping tight back into that post rock lope and eventually finishing off with some abstract ambient drift. Can't wait for the new record!
We've said it before, we love when our friends make amazing music. The sort of music that transcends the bonds of friendship, that requires none of the obligation that usually accompanies 'friend rock', the sort of music that had you just discovered it, unaware of its provenance, you wouldn't think twice about proclaiming its virtues, blasting it on your iPod nonstop, or if you're us, raving about it on the New Arrivals list.
Burial Tree is the realization of several years of intense work, and is the project of aQ pal Monte and his wife Lauren, along with a few other contributors, and is a mysterious, drone rock epic, a blissed out and darkly brooding record of haunting heaviness and abstract moodiness. A collection of subtly crafted cinematic soundscapes, equal parts Barn Owl psychedelic drift, Neurosis riff heavy crush, Three Mile Pilot post rock lope, and various stops in between.
The record begins with a haunting solo cello rendition of Hank Williams' "Ramblin' Man', transformed into an achingly mournful lament, the perfect lead in to "Secret Arts", a sprawling stretch of minimal black ambience, a lush, layered expanse of layered low end, and softly pulsing synth swells, laced with bits of melody, and warn swirls of sonic sunlight, a slow shifting scene setter for the sounds to come. "The Mysterious Stranger" is a dark twang flecked bit of Earth-y post rock, the guitars spidery and minor key, the drums busy and intricate, the strings soaring and swirling, all over a bed of subtle synth shimmer, eventually big riffs swoop in, and things get a bit metallic, with some killer stop/start dynamics, rife with synth squiggles and spaced out FX. A driving, hypnotic, subtly proggy, spaced out dirge rock, that shifts from dense distorted crunch to minimal lope and back again. And it's during those loping minimal bits that the sound reminds us of vintage Three Mile Pilot, the thick bass suspended over deep swirling space, paranoid and hauntingly ominous.
"The Bringer Of Light" mirrors the melodies from the song before it, making it feel like a sort of second movement, it's reverby contemplative drift sounding like some nineties slowcore combo via desert rockers Scenic, very evocative, barren landscapes, wide open skies, shadows moving slowly across the ground, here too, the strings do the heavy melodic lifting, while the drums and guitar weave a skeletal framework, sounding like something that wouldn't have been out of place on Thrill Jockey back in the day. The track builds to a swirling psychedelic climax, all pounding drums and swirling synths, before fading into another bit of smoldering dronemusic, a spacey effects heavy stretch of whirring Moogs and looped FX, blurred into gauzy bits of fragmented melody, and thick, softly undulating layers of washed out blackness.
"Conjuring Demons" is another post rocker that takes the spare bass heavy, spidery melodies of 3MP and weds them to some more arid spacious desert rock, another haunting excursion into abstract instrumental meander, the stings here adding color and texture, the main guitar riff memorable enough to stay lodged in your head, the drums eventually dropping off, leaving just the strings over a barely there bit of deep rumbling shimmer. The record finally winds down with the gorgeous title track, the cello played so lyrically, the melodies melancholy and mournful, wrapped around muted chiming melodies, and a strange distant insectoid buzz, a dark, emotional threnody, the sound of the sun disappearing beneath the horizon, the moon vanishing behind the clouds, the fire dying to embers in the hearth, the stars fading into the blackness of space. So nice.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Each one hand numbered. And each one with a printed cover, and a screen printed insert, printed by a real live WIZARD!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Allan's D&D sensibilities were most pleased with the name and title of this new Jewelled Antler cd-r! Tunnels To Other Chambers is the debut of a new project from the JA camp, featuring the duo of Kerry McLaughlin (Franciscan Hobbies) and the ubiquitous Glenn Donaldson (FH, Thuja, Skygreen Leopards, The Ivytree, Teenage Panzerkorps, etc.). Guesting on a few tracks you'll also find Rob Reger (Thuja) and Christine Boepple (Skygreen Leopards Skyband). These guys do indeed have a knack for titles to match their evocative folk-psych-improv music. No review is really needed if we cite such track names as "Gallery Of Ancient Birds", "Ghosts In The Tunnel", "Moss Banjo" or "Vacation Route For Emperors". I mean, sounds good already, right? And it does for sure sound good if you're attuned to the sort of spacious, abstract sound-delving these folks do so well. It's wonderfully fragile, sleepy, and melodic. Droning harmonium, bowed strings...electronic detritus...plucked acoustic guitar...simple, ritual percussion...tinkling bells...and occasional frail whispery vocals. It's like listening in to some mellow krautrock being played on an Applachian back porch, or to monkish ceremonies from the lost Plateau of Leng, or perhaps a somnolent subterranean hobbit-hole jamboree. In other words, so nice!! Definitely get this is you like Jewelled Anter stuff like The Birdtree and Hala Strana. Also we could reference Espers, Amon Duul, Tower Recordings, Harvester, Algarnas Tradgrad, Siloah...
It's a little strange that there are only two collaborative albums from Dan Burke and Thomas Dimuzio, despite their long-standing working relationship which dates back well over a decade. On his numerous travels to California touring as Illusion Of Safety, Dan Burke has often found himself in the Bay Area to perform outside the Illusion Of Safety guise. Instead, Burke's dystopian electro-acoustic techniques have joined forces with the engineering prowess of Thomas Dimuzio (who is responsible for mastering many an IOS record); and during those performances, they've proven to be quite an amazing duo, avoiding many of the follies of on-again / off-again projects or open-up-the-laptop-and-go live collaborations. Dimuzio has an excellent ear and he manages to keep Burke from diving off into the cybernetic rhythms which can make some of the lesser Illusion Of Safety records so dodgy. At the same time, Burke's perpetual audio nihilism provides a solid framework for Dimuzio to add his talents.
Upcoming Events was in fact edited and reconstituted from three of their Bay Area performances from 2004. These recordings consist of electronically mangled drones, mechanoid field recordings agitated through digital means, pure tone manipulation, and unsettled noise culled from tactile crunches, all of which build to discordant crescendos that have the psychological intensity of David Lynch's sound design, certainly rivalling the best work that either Illusion of Safety or Thomas have done on their own.
Steadily increasing drones become a hellish orchestral hum punctuated by metallic screeches which sound like a belt fan on a motor that's just ready to snap off its fly wheel. Elsewhere, unsettling electronics bleat against the tactile rattling of sand crunched against the head of a mic condenser whilst a subharmonic tone ominously rumbles in the distance. With the cover photograph of the armed barricade outside the 2004 Republican National Convention, the album takes on the aura of the soundtrack of a police state. Burke founded Illusion Of Safety in 1983, inspired by the industrial attitudes and aesthetics of Throbbing Gristle. While TG's prescient insights of culture as the death factory may seem commonplace to the media savvy, Burke and Dimuzio render their take on the conspiratorial and paranoiac with remarkable success. Highly recommended!
During the past 15 years, Chicago's experimental ensemble Illusion of Safety has revolved around the activitities of Dan Burke and a rotating core of like-minded avant-garde musicians including Jim O'Rourke, Thymme Jones, Kurt Griesch, and dozens more. Yet during a tour across Europe collaborating with Kevin Drumm (who is effectively the doppelganger of O'Rourke's non-pop aesthetic), Burke and Drumm have chosen not to invoke the IOS moniker. This is strange only in the fact that the Burke / Drumm contribution to the Mort Aux Vaches series (which have all been commissioned for VPRO radio in the Netherlands) is not far removed from some of the Illusion of Safety albums (in particular the early '90s album "Probe"). The Burke / Drumm "Mort Aux Vaches" is a very well constructed electro-acoustic improvisation that opens with tiny microscopic events and upper register frequencies. These erratic squiggles steadily flesh themselves out into ominous drones, bristling with toxic white noise. Nicely done.
From their first release, a chaotic, club destoying blast of downtuned pummel, Burmese have slowly been gravitating, at least sonically, toward what can only be described as a state of Whitehouse. Shedding musical elements one at a time until they were on the verge of becoming pure violent energy. Each song an endless stretch of brutal sound, a barbed bed of uneasy ambience for the ultra distorted ranting and raving vocals. We all though it couldn't get any meaner, any creepier or any heavier. We were so wrong. Burmese's Men is the musical equivalent of the heart stopping pants shitting terror you experience when faced with a spittle spraying, wildly snarling pitbull, hackles raised and teeth bared lunging at you from behind a chainlink fence, you realize that the fence ends a few yards away and there is no gate. This band is fucking scary. On Men, the dual bass, dual drummer lineup manages to compartmentalize, and their Whitehouse obsession becomes just one element in what is a totally devastating doom sludge monstrosity. Shrieked black metal vocals over pounding super distorted downtuned riffs and crushing double drummer pummel. Myabe one of the best band the Bay Area has to offer these days. Certainly the scariest.
We'd be hard pressed to think of ANY band that could hold their own on a split record with our very own local noiseniks Burmese. But if anyone can, it's Israeli noise combo Cadaver Eyes.
But first off, holy shit are we psyched to have new music from Burmese. These guys are seriously sloooooow workers. Other than a handful of shows, we've heard nary a peep from these guys, there was the reissue of the tUMULt release on vinyl, but it's literally been years we've been waiting for a new record. Multiple lineup changes, disastrous tours, scrapped recordings, the sort of luck that has plagued these guys forever. But finally, they've beat the curse, and gotten us 11 new blasts of brutal, speaker shredding ultraviolence. Some confusion mix of Whitehouse style abstract noise, pummeling grind, damaged metal, freaked out power violence. They may be down to one drummer, but they still have two bass players, and now THREE vocalists.
They sound as good as ever, still furious and freaked out, sometimes offering up sprawling electronic dronescapes, sometimes, frantic flurries of lightning fast grind, sometimes convoluted lurching metallic crunch, and often all of the above at the same time. Hypnotic and heavy and seriously fucked up. Just another reminder, since they're loath to do it themselves outside of their sporadic releases, that these guys are quite possibly the best band in SF.
But then there's Cadaver Eyes, recorded live on WFMU, using just drums, vocals and no-input mixing board. And listening to this, it seems impossible that there's not two guitarists and multiple drummers and synths and who knows what else. The sound is dense and freaked out. Spastic spurts of strangled grind, long stretches of speaker shredding electronic buzz and skree, long drawn out abstract dronescapes of howling vox and pounding drum plods spaced WAY out, culminating in the nearly eight minute closer, beginning with the strangely titled "Ba Yom Yom" and finishing off with an absolutely unrecognizable cover of "Sweet Home Alabama", a convoluted blow out of maniacally howling vocals, sputtering percussive crunch, LOTS of feedback, and thick walls of rumbling crumbling distortion.
Awesome. And about as UN-easy listening as we can imagine.
Three new 12"s in Table Of The Elements' ongoing series of limited single sided lps, each with 'Guitar' as the theme, ostensibly exploring the sonic possibilities of the instrument, one from long time aQ fave Fennez, another from San Augustin's David Daniell (both reviewed elsewhere on this list), and this one by a fella named Andrew Burnes, who until a few minutes ago, remained a total mystery to us. But apparently, he too is a member of San Augustin alongside Daniell, as well as playing in Haunted House with Loren Mazzacane Connors and performing with Thurston Moore and Ken Vandermark among others.
Here, Burnes, credited with just lap steel guitar, totally reinvents the instrument, subverting any idea of Appalachia or traditional steel string guitar music, instead creating a warm sidelong soundscape of muted buzz and slowly shimmering soft focus drift. The main component here is most definitely the drone, a whirring buzzy, shimmering metallic whir, that is by no means static, instead shifting colors and subtly changing shape, almost like holding your ear against an excited string as its overtones take on a life of their own. But in and around the buzz, little flecks of melody surface, almost like sparks being produced by the constant incessant vibrating steel, but these sparks are soft and sweet, like the surviving fragments of what was once some sort of Appalachia, drifting to the surface, and fluttering to the ground through Burnes' ever expanding cloud of warm metallic shimmer.
Super subtle and minimal and gorgeous. Drone music fanatics will definitely need to keep an eye on Burnes, and folks who like their country disembodied and blurred into warm fuzzy blissy drones, well then Telescope seems like it was custom created just for you!
Pressed on super thick, swirled milky green black and white vinyl. One sided, the other side with a beautiful etching courtesy of the mighty Savage Pencil, housed in a thick PVC sleeve, and again like most good things in life, or so it seems, VERY VERY LIMITED!
