We've been wanting to list this for awhile, but the first pressing went out of print rather quickly that it took us awhile to get enough to list from the second pressing. And you can see why it's been so popular, what with all the love for rare kosmische music, and this one is a stunner!
Before 1979, Harald Grosskopf was mostly known as a percussionist for Ash Ra Tempel, Cosmic Jokers and Klaus Schulze. But during one bleak summer where his girlfriend left him, he fortuitously met up with two musicians who he would later collaborate with in the band You (whose 2 releases are soon to be reissued on Bureau B!). One of them lent Grosskopf his flat for the summer and a mini-Moog and sequencers to work on a solo record. With a reel to reel and eight track recorder he received from Schulze as compensation for his contribution on some recordings, Grosskopf then had to teach himself how to use all the new equipment, which was no easy task. But his perseverance paid off as the result is one of the finer synth outings we've heard from the era. There is a nice percolating exuberance to the tracks aided with the forwarding momentum of percussion that keeps things moving along, while other tracks show a deep space ambient side. Definitely a precursor for what much of what Jonas Reinhardt and Zombi are doing nowadays. In fact, included with the lp is a cd of 11 reworkings of Synthesist by the newer vanguard of electronic artists including: Oneohtrix Point Never, Arp, James Ferraro, Pink Skull, Bronze and Stellar Om Source. Highly Recommended!!!!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Yay! After being out of print for the last couple of years, this fantastic album has finally been reissued! Unfortunately it's not a domestic reissue, so the price tag is still import-high. But it's well worth the $, being one of our very favorite discs by Otomo Yoshihide's amazing sampling/noise/jazz outfit Ground Zero. This one's all covers, Ground Zero interpretations of tunes as far ranging as Massacre's "Bones" to John Philip Sousa's "Washington Post March", Omoide Hatoba to Burt Bacharach... Includes liner notes in both English and Japanese explaining Otomo's reasons for doing each song. Great album, great band. If you missed it the first time, get it now!!
The second record by Otomo Yoshihide's Ground Zero is an expansion of a concept started by German artists Heiner Goebbels and Alfred 23 Harth, and is modestly accredited as a "remix of the Peking Oper" by the aforementioned duo. The Revolutionary Pekinese Opera is an amazing aural collage, where Otomo deconstructs a recording of a traditional Chinese opera in the '60s, rearranging the bits into new forms as well as recomposing within the gaps for his Ground Zero group. The group is augmented with many sampled "guests" including Goebbels and Harth, Steve Beresford, Compostela (mysterious street band from Japan who had an incredible disc on Tzadik!), Christian Marclay and Jon Rose (whose violin work here is incredible!) among many others. A dense, exciting and cinematic listening experience.
Just as ghostly and mystical as her music is, so is the availability of Grouper's records. One moment they're here, but before you can even blink they're out of print. Lately Liz Harris (Grouper) has been releasing her own recordings, but not pressing that many of them when she does. We know she doesn't do so out of a desire to keep things 'limited' but instead it's her humble nature which tends to keep her scope small, even when the truth is there are thousands of people across the globe who have become huge fans of her dreamlike sounds.
The first pressing of these two new Grouper lp's "A I A: Alien Observer" and "A I A: Dream Loss" went out of print so quickly we weren't even able to review them. The thing about these small pressings that bother us is that the only folks really winning, are the eBay speculators selling copies for ridiculous amounts, none of that money ends up in Grouper's hands. So we do hope that in the future she (and the labels she works with) will start pressing more copies as she is the one who deserves to reap the reward of her beautiful creation.
OK, now that our rant is out of the way, we should let you know that although this is a repressing we're not sure how many, if any, more of these we're going to be able to get. What we got, So before we start going on and on about the music you probably should just add this to your cart asap to better your chances of actually ending up with these.
Now on to what really matters - the music on these records. We've gushed and gushed about Grouper so much in the past, and we're going to do it once again because these lp's are utterly gorgeous! While Dragging A Dead Dear, found her starting to really embrace the idea of songs, we love how these lp's blur that focus once again. They're much more about mood, soft focus, hazy dreams, and ethereal exploration. Her voice swirling in and out, and every sound and tone she uses and manipulates with such a mastered ease. We've been listening to these records late at night and early in the morning and whenever we need to come down from the craziness of the world around us. Somehow whenever we play these lp's, everything else just fades away and for a little while all that matters is the soft narcotic rush we feel as the records spin. We can't imagine only getting one of these, as they really do work as companion pieces. Totally beautiful! And sadly, AGAIN, EXTREMELY LIMITED!!!!
Just as ghostly and mystical as her music is, so is the availability of Grouper's records. One moment they're here, but before you can even blink they're out of print. Lately Liz Harris (Grouper) has been releasing her own recordings, but not pressing that many of them when she does. We know she doesn't do so out of a desire to keep things 'limited' but instead it's her humble nature which tends to keep her scope small, even when the truth is there are thousands of people across the globe who have become huge fans of her dreamlike sounds.
The first pressing of these two new Grouper lp's "A I A: Alien Observer" and "A I A: Dream Loss" went out of print so quickly we weren't even able to review them. The thing about these small pressings that bother us is that the only folks really winning, are the eBay speculators selling copies for ridiculous amounts, none of that money ends up in Grouper's hands. So we do hope that in the future she (and the labels she works with) will start pressing more copies as she is the one who deserves to reap the reward of her beautiful creation.
OK, now that our rant is out of the way, we should let you know that although this is a repressing we're not sure how many, if any, more of these we're going to be able to get. What we got, So before we start going on and on about the music you probably should just add this to your cart asap to better your chances of actually ending up with these.
Now on to what really matters - the music on these records. We've gushed and gushed about Grouper so much in the past, and we're going to do it once again because these lp's are utterly gorgeous! While Dragging A Dead Dear, found her starting to really embrace the idea of songs, we love how these lp's blur that focus once again. They're much more about mood, soft focus, hazy dreams, and ethereal exploration. Her voice swirling in and out, and every sound and tone she uses and manipulates with such a mastered ease. We've been listening to these records late at night and early in the morning and whenever we need to come down from the craziness of the world around us. Somehow whenever we play these lp's, everything else just fades away and for a little while all that matters is the soft narcotic rush we feel as the records spin. We can't imagine only getting one of these, as they really do work as companion pieces. Totally beautiful! And sadly, AGAIN, EXTREMELY LIMITED!!!!
Finally available on cd!
It doesn't really seem possible that the music of Grouper could get any more beautiful, any more majestic and epic, or any more mysterious and dreamlike. No, but what it can do is change, and grow, expand, and subtly alter its shape and timbre, it's coloring and shading, which is what it has been doing, on every single outing, but never so much as on Cover The Windows And Walls. The core of Grouper's sound remains unchanged, dense bleary eyed fields of druggy reverb, thick swirls of blurred vocals, smeared into indistinct melodies, all abstract and shimmery, soft focus and billowy, the musical version of those soft fuzzy grey clouds that fill the sky at twilight. It's still an impossible blend of Arvo Part, Morton Feldman and Skullflower, but the new record sounds a little bit more, well, folky maybe, or perhaps slightly less tripped out. A lot of it has to do with the vocals, which have attained an until now unheard of clarity. Which in no way means you can actually hear the vocals, they are still another gauzy layer in Grouper's blown out soundscape, but, sometimes, they -are- a bit clearer, you can actually pick out words here and there, sometimes even whole lines. Before, if we hadn't been told, we wouldn't necessarily have even known that the main element of Grouper's sound was in fact vocals. They were that indistinct and that drenched in FX. But here, it actually sounds like a singer, singing songs, but just barely, it's almost like listening to some super lonesome stripped down folk, recorded onto a wax cylinder, and then broadcast through a huge speaker mounted at the very bottom of an elaborate cave system, the songs careening back and forth and picking up more and more reverb and echo with every bounce, until they become this blissed out beautiful blur. Thick buzzing single guitar notes spread out into wavery fields of murky muted twang, which wrap themselves serpent like around the equally disembodied vocals. Imagine a field recording of ghosts performing ancient folk songs, a whispery thrum, so barely audible, that it's nearly impossible to capture, but once it is, and the sound is turned up enough to be audible to the human ear, it becomes this gorgeously distorted smear of sound.
What else can we say about Liz Harris and her Grouper project? We've hardly heard anything this beautiful and mysterious ever. EVER!
Absolutely and emphatically recommended.
It doesn't really seem possible that the music of Grouper could get any more beautiful, any more majestic and epic, or any more mysterious and dreamlike. No, but what it can do is change, and grow, expand, and subtly alter its shape and timbre, it's coloring and shading, which is what it has been doing, on every single outing, but never so much as on Cover The Windows And Walls. The core of Grouper's sound remains unchanged, dense bleary eyed fields of druggy reverb, thick swirls of blurred vocals, smeared into indistinct melodies, all abstract and shimmery, soft focus and billowy, the musical version of those soft fuzzy grey clouds that fill the sky at twilight. It's still an impossible blend of Arvo Part, Morton Feldman and Skullfower, but the new record sounds a little bit more, well, folky maybe, or perhaps slightly less tripped out. A lot of it has to do with the vocals, which have attained an until now unheard of clarity. Which in no way means you can actually hear the vocals, they are still another gauzy layer in Grouper's blown out soundscape, but, sometimes, they -are- a bit clearer, you can actually pick out words here and there, sometimes even whole lines. Before, if we hadn't been told, we wouldn't necessarily have even known that the main element of Grouper's sound was in fact vocals. They were that indistinct and that drenched in FX. But here, it actually sounds like a singer, singing songs, but just barely, it's almost like listening to some super lonesome stripped down folk, recorded onto a wax cylinder, and then broadcast through a huge speaker mounted at the very bottom of an elaborate cave system, the songs careening back and forth and picking up more and more reverb and echo with every bounce, until they become this blissed out beautiful blur. Thick buzzing single guitar notes spread out into wavery fields of murky muted twang, which wrap themselves serpent like around the equally disembodied vocals. Imagine a field recording of ghosts performing ancient folk songs, a whispery thrum, so barely audible, that it's nearly impossible to capture, but once it is, and the sound is turned up enough to be audible to the human ear, it becomes this gorgeously distorted smear of sound.
What else can we say about Liz Harris and her Grouper project? We've hardly heard anything this beautiful and mysterious ever. EVER!
Absolutely and emphatically recommended.
Limited to 300 copies! We got 30 copies, and once these are gone, it will be gone forever.
We were totally gaga for Grouper's Way Their Crept cd from last year. So much so we made it Record of the Week. A more aQ record we couldn't have imagined, a gloriously thick and fuzzy swirl, equal parts Arvo Part, Morton Feldman, Skullfower and all manner of drift and drone. Dense smears of processed vocals and mubled guitars, all so heavily affected they became indistinct blurs, drifting fuzzy drones. We've been anxiously awaiting more, and were thrilled to discover this new 3" cd-r on the Yellow Swans' Jyrk label. The good news is that it takes everything we loved about Way Their Crept and made it more, daker, denser, thicker, prettier. The bad news is it was limited to 130 copies of which we only managed to get 20. And the rest are sold out, so after these are gone we won't be getting any more.
He Knows is very short, three songs, ten minutes. But what it lacks in lenght, it makes up for in depth. The first track could of come straight off of Way Their Crept. Disembodied vocals hover and drift, guitars (are they guitars?) rumble and murmur and shimmer and hover, not so much an instrument as some sort of musical spirit. The vocals, the guitars, the sounds Grouper produce are like wraiths, floating like whisps of smoke, drifting in and around and through each other, a thick cloudy soundscape, warm and enveloping, pusling and reverberating, an indistnict blur, lovely but ineffable.
The second track is like chamber music recorded at the bottom of the sea, listening to it after it has bubblrd up to the surface, warm and warbly and murky and so lovely. Melodies are nothing but streaks of barely there sound, like sunbeams filtered through the prism of swirling seawater. The final track sounds like a hymn, but muffled and indistinct. Imagine laying in a field outside a smalll stone chapel, blankets wrapped tight around your head to stave off the cold, the warm sounds of the church drift across the icy ground, the sounds barely making it through your wool shroud and into your ears, but what does make it, sounds warm and safe and beautiful. So good.
Limited to 130 copies and already OUT OF PRINT! We have the last 20, once these are gone they are GONE!
This one definitely doesn't need much of a review, it's a super limited tour single from Liz Harris, aka Grouper, it features two brand new and EXCLUSIVE tracks, it's lovely and ethereal and spacey and dreamy (of course), it's already sold out and out of print, and we got less than 10 copies, and will NOT ever be able to get more. Odds are you don't need much of a description, fans will definitely want this, even with the steep price tag, but rest assured, it's another fantastic collection of hazy guitar swirl, lush atmospheric shimmer, disembodied reverbed vocal coo, shoegazey sonic swirl, a little bit of extra buzz and distortion all but obscuring the fragile vox on the second, track, but for the most part it's all gauzy and ethereal and ephemeral and abstract and hauntingly gorgeous, and for Grouper obsessives, most likely essential. Too bad we got so few...
Housed in nice thick covers with super striking black and white artwork, includes a Xeroxed insert with a download code too.
Piano and voice. That's what we encounter in the latest incantation from Liz Harris, once again recording as Grouper. Chillingly beautiful smears from dankly shoegazing guitars, loop-station electronics, mumbled vocals, and a near constant wash of stoned introspection were the common elements of those albums of hers that captured our imagination like Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill and AIA: Dream Loss. She's eschewed pretty much all of the gauzy blur and the narcotic diffusion that runs through all of her previous albums; but the delicacy of these songs on Ruins and beguiling poetry of sadness makes this very much another fantastic Grouper album.
Harris wrote all of the material for Ruins during a residency in Portugal back in 2011. There, she made full use of an upright piano, recording these songs onto a four-track with occasional overdubs, just for an additional layer voice here and there in order to harmonize with herself. Without all of the fuzz and drone, Harris' lyrics enjoy a bit more clarity, though she has long been one to slur the syllables into a cooing gasp of pitch-perfect intoxication. Her songs arpeggiate on simple piano chords evolving the minor key repetition into secretive, plaintive lullabies, slowly tapped out to match the torpor of her voice. The album is starkly naked in the emotional fragility of these arrangements, but Harris is very much in control of the poetics calmly painting her songs in a sonic palette of rainy-day blues and greys. It's much closer to the under appreciated Mirroring collaboration that hopefully wasn't just a one-off with Tiny Vipers' Jesy Fortino. Yes, another gem from the wintery soul of Liz Harris.
Note: we're listing the Kranky cd and vinyl now, but we'll also soon have a handful of the special self-released vinyl edition direct from Liz, which includes a bonus cd of a thunderstorm field recording... if interested, please let us know now!
Good news and bad news: Yay we got a few of the new Grouper 12"s for you all, BUT they were shipped to us with the records inside the sleeves and all of the copies we got have an inch long seam split on the side. Arggh! We won't be able to get more, but we are able to discount these a bit so we can sell them at $3 less than the normal asking price of $16.98. Sorry about that! Please don't order if you are overly anal about the condition of your record sleeves.
Another mysterious missive from the ever elusive Grouper, this one even more mysterious since it is a one-sided fragment of a longer sprawling piece she has been performing live for the past couple of years, first at the Berkeley Art Museum, but also recently in such exotic locales as an abandoned polar bear enclosure at a Vancouver zoo. The vast space of the museum and zoo provided the opportunity to set up remote speakers throughout the space, so the sonic dimension of the multiple collaged tape loops of murked out guitar drones, pianos, built up vocals and other gorgeous hiss and noise could easily be manipulated spatially as the sound hovered in shimmering miasmas or pooled in delicate ripples of sound. The piece culminating in a swirling fading vortex of disintegration, like a beautiful drowning. Limited to 800 copies on white vinyl, we only have a few so act fast as they'll be gone before you know it!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Latest in Type Records' 7" singles series (past releases included Machinefabriek, Goldmund, Paavoharju, Benoit Piolard and Tarentel) comes from local vocal soundscaper Liz Harris, aka Grouper, and it's another beauty. Not sure if she just keeps getting better, or it's just that we love here records so much that every new one just reminds us why and how much we dig here deliriously dreamy sounds.
The A side just might be the closest to a proper pop song Grouper has ever recorded, but it's still appropriately buried in soft murky fuzz, making the notes mushy and indistinct, her breathy vocals shimmering streaks of melody, the whole thing a warm, melancholy blur of soft pop abstraction. Absolutely stunning. In the time it's taken to review just the A side, we've listened to it three times in a row! In fact we would have gone for a fourth had we not moved on to the other side...
If the A side is a glimpse of Grouper's perfect pop, then the B side is her torch song, a gorgeous moody ballad, and it's like the dense clouds of reverb have finally parted, revealing what lurked behind all that shimmer and buzz, delicate sensual vocals, drifting minor key piano, a stripped down late night dark nightclub on the edge of town sort of stormclouds and roaring fire, folk flecked ballad. Still a bit of reverb and delay, but they merely drift by, or hover in the background. Totally gorgeous.
Imagine Arvo Part if he was a punk rock woman from Oakland. Or imagine an ultra lo-fi Morton Feldman jamming with Matthew Bower of Skullflower, backed up by a ghostly choir. This is one of those records that is so perfectly aQuarius it sounds like it was composed and recorded just for us. And you. A perfect blend of warm textured ambience and thick corrosive drones, delicate melodies wrapped in a gorgeously crunchy gritty hissy production. The whole record is a ghostly shimmer, warm washes of otherworldly vibrations swirling in a thick morass of processed vocals, murky keyboards and guitars rendered so unguitarlike they more resemble warm wiggles of sound, like slinky's stretched as far as they will go, slightly vibrating, barely disturbing the air around them, small waves of sound like ripples in a pond building and building and piled atop one another until it's a massive, thick blanket of sound. Imagine the saddest slowest band you've ever heard playing at absolutely deafening volume, then imagine stuffing your ears full of cotton, and listening from behind a closed door, through a wall of mud and straw, warm wispy tendrils of sound creeping and crawling through the cracks, wrapping themselves in thick coils around your arms and legs, the whole room slowly filling with sound, until soon you're totally ensconced, submerged, surrounded by thick billows of slow shifting sound. Melodies become indistinct whispers stretched across minutes instead of seconds, guitars and keyboards become blissed out blurs, like floating weightless in a warm dark mysterious place made entirely of soft sound. Wow. Totally haunting and captivating.
We made the debut full length from this Bay Area one woman dream drone outfit Record of the Week a while back, and ever since, have been waiting patiently for another slab of her beautifully dense ghostlike soundscapes. Since then, it seems like any one with a microphone and a delay pedal has decided to make some atmospheric vocal based drone record. And while some of those have indeed been quite good, few can come close to the utter abstract beauty of Liz Harris and her Grouper project.
When describing Grouper, the most mentioned comparisons seem to be Arvo Part and Morton Feldman, Part no doubt because of the vocal/choral aspect, and Feldman because this is definitely a sort of dreamlike minimalism, but Grouper is definitey something else entirely. A murky dreamworld of shimmering guitar and indistinct voices, swirling clouds of smeared melody, drifting whirls of warm thick delay, and dense layers of mumbly reverb. It's the sonic equivalent of wandering through some ghost town, almost everything obscured by thick fog, the streetlights, like distant lightning bugs, warm orange glows, staining the fog like a child's fingerpaints, even sound can barely travel so you exist sonically in a tiny muffled and muted cocoon, like listening to the world around you with ears full of wet cotton. Drifting disembodied vocals drenched in thick dubby FX are spread out paper thin into nearly transparent sheets of gauzy whir, like a chorale of ghosts, singing in some vast underground cavern. Within all of this murk and fog, lurk heartbreaking melodies, perfect little melancholy pop songs, but almost completely obscured from view, so instead of hearing songs, it's like barely remembering a little melody, or getting a tune stuck in your head only to have it fly away moments later, and struggling to remember just how that song went. A strangely emotional sonic trigger for lost memories, and indescribable landscapes, amorphous sounds, and a world both familar and completely alien.
Unlike her freenoise / dronerock / whatever contemporaries, who are happy to just make a big loud sound, or push a few buttons and start a low rumbling drone, with Grouper, it's more like the songs started out as proper songs, verses, choruses, sweet little melodies, gentle lilting vocals, but those songs were left in a corner, and allowed to get dusty, then set outside where they leaned for weeks, propped up against the side of the house, getting rained on, dappled with morning dew, they began to rust, and decay, weeds grew up around them, small animals made nests in them. Eventually, they were collected, and placed in a dusty old wagon, where they spent the majority of the journey, getting bumped and jostled, pieces breaking off, bits smearing into other bits, becoming less and less obviously songs, and more like the decayed husks of songs, still beautiful, and lovely in their own way, but lonely, and forgotten, until one day, they were all gathered up and placed in order, dusted off, polished up until they glow with some dim inner light, and thus they become Wide, and we close our eyes and listen...
Originally released as a super limited cassette, which went out of print almost immediately. Then reissued as an almost as limited lp, which also disappeared in no time. So finally, this long sought after, constantly unavailable slab of gorgeous gauzy, folky dream drift, is available as an actual cd. Probably pretty limited too, but for now, we should have enough to last us a little while.
You probably already know just from the two artists if you need this or not. New work from two of the few women kicking ass in the mostly male 'noise rock' scene. Both huge AQ faves, both who utilize voice and effects, in addition to the usual string-ed instruments to weave dreamlike soundscapes and delicate cinematic ambience.
Both are in full effect here, each outfit offering up gauzy beauty and mysterious haunting murk, distant shimmery drones and abstract lo-fi song fragments. Gorgeous as always.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
It must be hard to find a sound, especially one that is based in drone and drift, and continue to constantly push the limits of that sound without drifting too far away from the elements which define your essence. Growing have managed to do just that, moving gracefully from drone drenched space rock to minimal rumble and whir, to wherever it is they are now, some musical netherworld, equal parts subtle shifting shimmer, grinding distorted dirge, and sparkling barely there ambience. No higher compliment can be paid than "how the hell do we describe these amazing sounds?!" And really, it seems that any cursory description could not possibly do justice to the amazing sonic world Growing have created.
On Color Wheel, the drift and rumble and shimmer of the past few releases is still present, but stretched out even further, in even stranger directions, some, on first listen sound almost 'wrong', like the almost cheesy panpipe sounds of "Cumulusless", but within seconds some internal logic reveals those sounds to be sort of kind of perfect, in their own skewed way, and then they begin to blur and become a gorgeously murky melodic drift. Other songs are stretched even more dramatically, songs and parts are peppered with strange production techniques and unusually distorted glitches, jagged edits and completely unlikely sequencing. The opening track "Fancy Period" begins as a cool ambient whir, high end melodies swirling and drfiting ever skyward, before the drone sort of buckles, and those high end meldoies become distinct peals, each fluttering weightless above a shuffling fuzzy stuttering rhythm, almost like a skipping Sunroof! cd. Track two, "Friendly Confines", is actually the most 'unfriendly' of the bunch, the core of the track a huge swath of downtuned distorted sludge guitar, tinkling melodies buried in the murk and mire, a shifting wall of rooooaaaarrr, like a slow motion mudslide, before the melodies are freed, the dirge drifts off and all that is left is a series of very Fripp / Eno guitar figures, repetetive and sweetly hypnotic. The record's closing track "Green Pasture" mines similar territory, a blissy barely there drone, peppered with stacatto bursts of blown out vacuum cleaner metal guitar, a super dynamic seesaw, between burbling dreaminess and massive SUNNO)))-like dirge. Quite possibley the coolest Growing track yet...
Most people know Growing as the drone duo of Joe Denardo and Kevin Doria. Well, welcome to 2010, where Growing are now a trio (again, for the first time in a long while) and where the drone seems to have taken a backseat to the band's more electronic persuasions. The new member comes in the form of Sadie Laska, whose vocals and sampling add some nice feminine energy to what was once primarily a dudefest (if two guys qualifies as a "dudefest"). We're sure there are some people wondering what happened, but we're too busy enjoying this new approach, because let's face it, two guys with guitars, E-bows, and a plethora of pedals is all well and good, but you can only go so far with that before wising up to the fact that there is much more to life. What makes Pumps! so great is not only the fact that Growing have switched things up, but how they went about doing it and how, at the end of the day, it still makes total sense that this is Growing. This is a much needed evolutionary step for sure, and the band sounds revitalized. Not only that, but without going too overboard or kissing ass to any trends, the new Growing does fit in quite well with many of today's electronic warriors like recent tourmates Fuck Buttons, Black Dice, and even Animal Collective if you downplayed some of their more hippie-ish tendencies. Growing's new home with the notorious Vice label will also assuredly lead to... well, some crazy shit we would imagine.
The album opens with "Short Circuit", and even though many of you have probably heard of the changes, your first reaction may still be, "Is this Growing?" It is, but with heavy beats and electronic squelches which soon become very melodic. Laska's voice comes in and seems to oscillate from speaker to speaker, creating it's own rhythmic flow that goes perfectly with the mutant dub production style. The sound here is hard to define but undeniably rad and definitely worthy of the title "Short Circuit". Elsewhere, you get some nice '80s video game inspired stuff, like on "Massive Dropout", with it's hi-hat beat guiding you to a portal opening into some weird dimension with laid back, easy grooves. We are tempted to use words like "sunny" and "summery", but those don't seem to indicate the weirdness of it all. On "Highlight" we picked up what seems to be a pretty heavy Kraftwerk influence, in fact some of us were even reminded of the song "Hall Of Mirrors", but maybe we're just crazy. Either way, awesome stuff that is super catchy and really good for headphone listening. Perhaps poking fun at themselves, or even their fans (lightheartedly, of course), "Drone Burger" does utilize a nice drone reminiscent of Spacemen 3's "Repeater" with little keyboard stabs punctuating the atmosphere. Closing number "Mind Eraser" makes good use of a thumping beat and electronic static. The overall feeling of paranoia is heightened by a voice proclaiming, "I love drugs" as other indecipherable voices shoot all over the place before the words "I love you" creepily take the song to it's fadeout conclusion.
Awesome stuff, and definitely a positive step forward for these guys and gal. It's great to see a band manage to surprise while also confirming the identity they already established, making it clear that Growing will remain Growing as long the musicians involved are willing to take risks and keep... growing (sorry, heh).
Yay! The debut album from this Olympia trio may be one of the Kranky label's best in a long while. It's almost completely instrumental and melds gorgeous post-rock with ambient electronics and thick, satisfying drones. In the space of an hour, four lengthy tracks develop. Serene arpeggiated guitar notes give way to shimmering cymbals. Silence unfolds into emotive ambient atmospherics, which devolve into simply strummed acoustic guitar. Warbly electronics ebb and flow over the natural buzz and hum of insects on a warm summer night. Notes are held forever until they fade naturally, reminding us of Earth or SunnO))) only without the overt metal/doom element, just the heavy, weighty sombreness... and with Growing this gravity always evolves to an epic hope-imbued sort of flight toward a blissful horizon. The dynamics are carefully controlled yet effortless, and not at all "hard" to listen to. (In fact, one of the pieces uses the chord progression from "Norwegian Wood", odd choice but a welcome bit of familiarity amidst the drone.) A gorgeous, calming record. Highly recommended for fans of Windy & Carl, Earth, The Necks, Jonathan Coleclough, Sunroof, and even Boris. But even if you don't know those artists from Adam, you should give the soundclips a listen because the operative word here is "accessible" -- whether or not the genres Growing touches on are your cup of tea, they do it so well that this record may open your ears to stuff you've previously written off as too difficult. This is soooo pretty. Windy loves this. So does Allan.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
David Grubbs' previous collaboration with the Swedish improvisational reedist Mats Gustafsson, who's played with Ken Vandermark and Peter Brotzman, resulted in "Apertura," with Grubbs on harmonium and Gustafsson on tenor sax. On "Off-Road,", instrumentation includes electric guitar and electronics as well as harmonium from Grubbs and fluteophone (basically a cross between a flute and a saxophone, as the name implies), tenor sax, flageolet (a brass whistle), synthesizer and contact mics from Gustafsson. Henry Moore Selder (last seen directing a Hives video) helps out on maracas and turntables. Gustafsson's playing involves a lot of breathing heavily through his reeds, creating subtle vocal textures rather than notes. It sounds kind of creepy, really. These songs feature clattering, helicopter-esque percussiveness moving through the stereo field, accompanied by contact-mic buzz; juxtapositions of operatic vocal recordings, kitty meowing, long buzzing reed tones and synth clacking in a kind of sloppy improv plunderphonia; and some more digestible tracks with Grubbs lending guitar work reminiscent of his work in Gastr Del Sol. Recorded in Stockholm.
MPEG Download: "Dystopian Turboprop" [/audio/grubbs_gustafssondystopian.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Dystopian Turboprop" [/audio/grubbs_gustafssondystopian.m3u]
Any band described as 'the Melvins playing King Crimson', well, how could you not want to hear that, assuming that were it true, you might have a new favorite band!! But, those sorts of descriptions are usually hyperbole, and while we love us some hyperbole, claims like that definitely bear some deeper digging.
That said, this stuff is pretty close to that Melvins meets KC claim, a sort of avant sludge, or prog-doom, or avant-prog-sludge. In addition to the Melvins and King Crimson, we're also thinking Harvey Milk, Dot [.], Moss, Swans, Black Shape Of Nexus, Blutch, Slomatics, and tUMULt's Like A Kind Of Matador, in fact, pretty sure that Gruel features the guitarist from LAKOM, and thus it has a similarly epic sludge prog feel. Four loooong songs, all clocking in at about 15 minutes, sprawling and epic and intricate, loads of parts, riffs, bombastic drumming, the sound slipping from classic sounding rock, to glacial sludge, to slo-mo ambient drift, to math metal churn, midtempo caveman pounds to frantic thrashing crush to super spare abstract ultra-mega-doom, to almost pretty shoegazey buzz to hushed barely there shimmer, the various parts laced with wild leads, mysterious percussion, children's voices, harsh hellish vox, bellowed yowls, weird field recordings, thick rib cage rattling low end, and a massive milk curdling guitar sound. So while it might not exactly be Melvins meets King Crimson, it's close enough, and most definitely plenty proggy and doomy and sludgey, and will no doubt hit the spot for fans of all the above mentioned bands, and all things slow and low, heavy and heady.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, packaged in a PVC sleeve, and wrapped in a full color sleeve that folds out into a big two sided full color poster!
- MPEG stream: I
- MPEG stream: II
The Omni Recording Corporation has been killing it lately in a string of essential vinyl reissue collaborations with the Australian Roundtable label, focusing on rare library, lounge and private press exotica. We recently listed the Orchestra Peter Thomas Orion 2000 lp of tripped out sci-fi grooves, and this week we have two extremely fine examples of Italian library music from composer Egisto Macchi and his more well known group that included Ennio Morricone, Gruppo D'Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza.
While we have always respected and revered this Italian improv collective, much of their recorded output has been on the difficult listening side of things. Skronky free jazz , metallic bangs and tings, tape noise and pounding prepared piano. Sometimes abstract, dissonant and sparse, though equally majestic, heavy and remarkable, it hasn't always been easy to get behind...until now! Finally, a lost recording from 1971 for the Gemelli Library that was never released, Niente is a mind-scorching set of avant-psych groove. While there are still qualities of their defining sound present, this set is marked most notably by a strong rhythm section that is not afraid to jam out. Reminding us of favorite records from Faust and Can, this is the GDNC at their most kraut. Both funky and proggy, we think that moden day-psych fans of bands like Wooden Shjips, 3 Leafs, Carlton Melton and The Heads should look into the weird sound world of this release and get their minds blown!
Limited to 500 copies and nearly out of print, we were lucky to get the copies we have, so don't snooze on this one!
Some brilliantly abstract percussive improv from legendary sixties outfit Gruppo Improvisazione Nuova Consonanza, who among its members counted a young Ennio Morricone. But don't expect any of that cinematic desert twang, this is way more far out, a series of lengthy improvisations that range from clattery percussive soundscapes assembled from all manner of rattles and shakers and struck and bowed metal, chaotic and densely tangled, to haunting whirls of electronic glitch, skronky horns, pounded piano and weird tape experiments, to droney spaced out free jazz, but always retaining a wide eyed innocence and a penchant for kicking up a seriously noisy racket, even the softest moments often interrupted by a loud clang or some shimmering high end scrape. Recorded between 1967 and 1969, most of this sounds like it could easily have been recorded this year, some mysterious outfit from Finland or Japan, recording in the forest, releasing limited cd-r's. But it's also very much of it's time, a little bit academic, very later sixites / early seventies. Noisy as all get out, but incredibly captivating and strangely lovely at times. Two whole discs jam packed with some mesmerizingly freaked out free music exploration.
Also included is an amazing DVD, a gorgeous black and white concert film, documenting a live performance in Rome from 1967. Subtitled in both English and Italian. And it's all region. All of the discs are in similarly designed digipaks, and along with a poster, and a thick book packed with liner notes and photos, are housed in a super striking cloth covered box, with embossed white swirls and embossed text! Amazing.
A collection of recordings (from '67 to '75) by this legendary international (well, Italian basically) all-star improv ensemble perhaps most famous for including in its ranks Ennio Morricone (on trumpet)! The other members were Mario Bertonichi, Walter Brachi, Franco Evangelisti, John Heineman, Roland Kayn, and Egisto Macchi. Also, guests found here include Frederic Rzewski, Giovanni Piazza, and Jesus Villa Rolo. Formed in 1964, unique in being a "new music" improvising group composed entirely of, uh, composers. The sound is somewhere between European free improv jazz a la the FMP label and avant-garde, Cageian 20th century chamber music, with an emphasis on extended techniques and "deformed sounds". Liner notes in English and German. (Not new, from '92, but we just got this and another Gruppo disc you'll see elsewhere on the list and were excited enough by them to want to list 'em.)
Local reissue label Superior Viaduct seems to be branching out beyond the punk/postpunk/industrial genres that they'd heretofore mainly specialized in, with some surprising (but cool) reissue selections, including a record by hillbilly dronester Henry Flynt, and this one, by '60s Italian improv "gruppo" featuring famed soundtrack composer Ennio Morricone, plus also Egisto Macchi and other notables. Long a favorite around here, we're happy to have this new vinyl reish, nicely done. Here's what our pal Drew Daniel of Matmos was kind enough to write about this for the aQ site the very first time we listed it:
If there was such a thing as "catchy" improv this sumptuous, careful record would be it. Not reading Italian I am in the dark as to the extent to which this recording is based on "game theory", but the numerous pictures of chess boards in the room with the assembled throng of Italian composers / improvisors suggests that some kind of game based operation produced these sounds - but you don't need to be Bobby Fischer or speak Italian to be stunned by the beauty, immediacy and focus of this gathering, which includes luminaries such as Ennio Morriconne. Far from the skronking racket which "improv" can call to mind in some listeners, there is a kind of majestic, attentive, and totally confident quality to these performances that will have the hair on your neck standing at attention, and the cinematic scope of Morricone's past work is fully in evidence here. When all six musicians build up a resonant, triumphant drone from horns and piano in "Omaggio a Giacinto Scelsi", both honoring and extending the work of the Italian aristocrat / mystic composer, the result is a kind of 17 minute long "transport" that very little contemporary music comes close to. Best of all, they also know when to make a track only two minutes long! Required listening for fans of Morricone, Supersilent, Godspeed or AMM.
Bravo, Superior Viaduct, bravo!
And it includes a download code!
A mighty fine album of amplified textures, droning experiments, and sonorous acoustics by the American ex-pat John Grzinich, who quietly operates in the Estonian countryside. There, he searches out Soviet-era ruins which have long served as a very rich source material for the tactile events that lace his compositions for long-thin wire instruments and field recordings. While Grzinich laments the fact that Estonia is slowly cleaning up those crumbled sites and once architectural monuments that are now piles of rumble, there are still plenty of sounds to discover and investigate. As his work unfurls, a sense of mystery surrounds his process and the resulting sounds. It seems that it is the wind that drives his wire instruments, but these could be bowed or agitated by mechanical means as well. Regardless, the first lengthy track opens with slow rumbling waves that trace through a quiet passage of wooden creakings, before an ominous, electrically charged buzz slips into the mix. This hum is clinical and inhospitable, leaning towards allusions to abandoned hydro-electric dams or poorly guarded nuclear facilities. By the end of the track, watery recordings cycle forward and overtake the amassed acoustic drones before snapping to an abrupt conclusion. The second piece features an even richer wire-driven drone whose overtones and sub-harmonics glisten in spite of their leaden frequencies. The additional layers of a crackling, rustling, scraping, and other nocturnal bumps in the night parallel the compositional strategies employed by Small Cruel Party and Giancarlo Toniutti, who both allow for the simple interaction between disparate elements which orbit a gravitational drone. Some of the best work we've heard from Grzinich in a while! Limited stock on this one, as it's a Russian pressing. And by the way, it's an actual legitimate Russian pressing, not one of those "Russian" grey area editions.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The UK's purveyors of rock/improv spazzy heaviness known as Guapo (a guitar/drums duo) team up with some like minded friends, including the famed Japanese progfreaks Ruins, for some crazed jamming/spontaneous composition. Half the record features drummer Tatsuya Yoshida and bassist Hisashi Sasaki of Ruins, while the second half incorporates the double bass of John Edwards and the alto saxophone of Caroline Kraabel (ex-Honkies), who we hear has now joined Guapo full-time. The results are, as expected, on the noisy side. While "Death Seed" doesn't equal any Guapo or Ruins record proper, it's certainly a worthy investment for fans of these bands or similar noisecore sounds. Italian import.
We really weren't sure what to expect from the oddly monikered Guardian Alien, knowing that two of the members also played in black metal outfit Liturgy, but that this was drummer Greg Fox's project, Fox also apparently recording as GDFX, whose tripped out experimental electronic tape on Ormolycka we reviewed a while back. We were even further confused when we got a look at the record cover, a weird painting of a Rasta alien in a tracksuit, in a field full of animals and campfires, and a sky full of deer with books in their mouths and exploding suns, and of course the tracksuited alien is holding a copy of the record, whose cover depicts the same alien holding a copy of the record and so on and on and on ad infinitum. The title too, "See The World Give To A One Love Entity" has a definite Rastafari bent, so we were definitely feeling some serious trepidation as we pushed play, which at first unfurled what sounded like field recordings, birds and insects, and then footsteps, maybe the footsteps of that alien on the record cover, then a brief bit of Eastern style drone, before BLAM, the song explodes in what we can only describe as Liturgy by way of Sunroof!, which you have to hear to believe.
It's a furious raga-blast, the drums relentless a splattery chaos of wild octopoidal drumming, the guitars following suit, sounding like a transcendental Mick Barr, it's frenzied and tangled but infused with a serious does of droned out tranciness, and then as the song lets up briefly, we were expecting that whole bit to just be the intro, but then the furious raga-blast starts up again, this time even more intense and explosive, and this time with vocals, a strange chanting buried in the mix, very ritualistic and meditative, and even though the band is pounding away frantically, the whole thing manages to be totally mesmerizing and utterly hypnotic, and after three minutes, although it feels like much more, the sound settles down into something much more stripped down and meditative, the drums no less busy, but instead, weaving a dense percussive backdrop over which woozy guitars waver and buzz, the vocals become more distinct, the melodies stretched out into gorgeously buzzy ragas, we're reminded of Astral Social Club at time the same sort of noise-raga thing, but here blissed out, the sound like some wild ritualistic drum circle wedded to some serious free jazz raga exploration, the vocals doused in effects, sounding truly alien, in keeping with the cover and the concept, the sound swirly and tripped out and super psychedelic, until eventually the drums drift off, leaving just a sky full of layered undulating guitars, a blur of shifting overtones and wild sonic squalls, before the drums come back in, a dense mathy, driving percussive groove, wreathed in swirling effects, the song shifting constantly, arranged like an epic black metal song in some ways, it's dynamicism in no way taking away from the tracks overall mesmer, and it is a single track, nearly 40 minutes of blast beat driven raga ur-drone psychedelia, dipping into ultra minimal drones and chant like vocalization here and there, chiming Tibetan bowls elsewhere, the field recordings that opened the record returning occasionally, a gorgeous droned out slow build to a final movement, a gloriously cosmic free jazz psychedelic drum heavy raga drone blowout, that builds to a sort of Boadrum like rhythmic frenzy before finally fading out in a cloud of deep bell like tones and slow fading shimmer. Wow.
The first record from this strange outfit was a single sprawling, psychedelic raga, all spaced out and trance-y, and driven, as unlikely as it may seem, by the wild metallic drumming of Greg Fox, formerly of transcendental black metallers Liturgy. We described that record as sounding like Liturgy meets Sunroof!, a furious raga-blast, all droned out and ritualistic, it's a record that didn't seem like it should work, but maybe because of that, became a unanimous store fave (and Record Of The Week).
So we were pretty excited to hear this new one, and it does not disappoint, although it does definitely confound. We were expecting maybe raga-blast part two, but instead, the record opens with a twisted sprawl of faux world music, Fox's drumming here a tangled, and relentless skitter, all hand drums and tablas, and other percussion, all tangled up with some super busy melodic bass, some spidery guitars, and processed female vocals, go from ritualistic chant, to chopped up stuttery garble, the whole track very No Neck Blues Band-ish, albeit a bit more Eastern influenced. A little Boredoms too. But it only gets weirder from there on out. Two brief blasts of metallic drone, the first all weird vocal samples buried beneath buzzing guitars and pounding drums, a swirling psychedelic freakout that gives way to the second, a weird Dada-ist cut up of clipped vocals, peppered by cool syncopated exotic percussion, bummer it's only a minute long, would have loved to have that stretch out forever! That gives way to a heady droney sprawl of crumbling distortion, chanted vox, all blurred into heaving swells, a little bit spacey, and doomy, but all of this seems to be leading up to the 20+ minute title track, sampled spoken word which quickly disappears in a cloud of impossibly dense and octopoidal drumming, everything wreathed in a cloud of bleeping and blooping electronics, and drifting on a bed of sitar like buzz, gradually settling into a dense mathed out raga-rock groove, the drums relentlessly churning away, the sound building to a blasting almost black metal frenzy, before fading back into that tribal, rhythmic groove, only to gradually transform into some strange strain of psychedelic krautrock, motorik and mesmerizing, and again building slowly to the super intense finale, which sounds like multiple Boredoms playing at once, noisy and swirling, and dizzying, and wildly chaotic, electronics, and guitar buzz, and Fox's impossibly wild drumming, all whipped into a tranced out squall, which locks into a skipping digital stutter, before finally sputtering to a halt. Exhausting, inspiring, and truly, sonically transcendental!
Leyfdu Ljosinu translates from the Icelandic to "Allow The Light" and is a stunningly beautiful piece from the post-classical composer Hildur Gudnadottir, who recorded this in one-shot with no edits or overdubs with just cello, voice, and electronics. The liner notes and the press release make a big deal about the single take of this recording, but with how adept so many doom / drone / shoegaze / black noise musicians are a creating loops on the fly through computer or pedal or whatever, this shouldn't be the first thing to commend Gudnadottir on. What she should be praised for is her command over ALL of her instruments and how well she emotes a beautiful desolation through those instruments. At first, Gudnadottir sings a plaintive, wordless melody which she captures in a loop, as she abstracts that loop by stretching it and dunking it in reverb, she adds more vocal tones and melodies - more and more of which begins to blur into an ethereal cauldron of roiling sound somewhere between the elegant hypnosis of William Basinski and Grouper's elegiac hymnal deconstruction. After some 15 minutes, the cello makes a slow introduction, seamlessly overtaking the voice as the prominent instrument. Again, Gudnadottir filters the sounds of her cello through all of her effects, furthering the descent of her sounds to the very bottom of the ocean. By the conclusion of the piece, she eschews the reverb for a frantic, nervous dervish across the strings of her cello abruptly coming to a perfect conclusion.
Not a brand new record, but instead a reissue of a 2006 album from one of our favorite cellists, Hildur Gudnadottir, who in the past has contributed brilliantly to records by Sigur Ros, Mum, BJ Nilsen and others, but whose solo records are even more fantastic. Focusing of course on the cello, she also incorporates zither, gamelan, viola, piano, vibraphone and more into a sound that's haunting and brooding, mystical and mysterious, the instruments subtly treated, melodies multitracked, gorgeous lush landscapes of blurred string sections, cinematic swells giving way to hazy murky blur, notes stretched out into warm whirling melodic tangles, complex counterpoint, ever shifting overtones, every track here a gloriously lush and emotionally charged miniature epic that hovers in some impossible space between classical, avant garde and drone, but always with a distinctly human element, these are the sort of deep and powerful songs and sounds that effortlessly evoke a sense of wistful melancholia, emotions that are definitely at odds with the smiling candid snapshot cover photo, these tracks like miniature soundtracks for fading memories and lost loves...
So gorgeous.
Hildur Gudnadottir has such a way with the cello, able to create such utterly moving music that is filled with nuance and texture but that is also so deeply emotional. Hailing from Iceland, Gudnadottir's resume includes collaborations and partnerships with the likes of Pan Sonic, Mum, Sigur Ros, Angel, BJ Nilsen, etc. It's so nice to get to hear her take center stage, carefully crafting a sound that is about as moody and beautiful as music really gets. Perfect for those eternal gray days we are faced with so often in San Francisco, this is a record we put on when we just want to get lost in the fog and haze. There is very nice and subtle processing throughout the album as well, and here and there Gudnadottir tries her hand at the zither with stunning results. Johann Johansson adds organ on a few tracks as well, and fans of HIS best work as well as music by folks like Sylvain Chauveau, Philip Glass, Michael Cashmore, Joan Jeanrenaud and Colleen should for sure check this out. Truly elegant and intensely resonant. And thus highly recommended!
Will there be a time when Stilluppsteypa will once again march out of the Icelandic tundra with a record all their own? It has been three years since Sigtryggur Berg Sigmarsson and Helgi Thorsson produced anything other than their collaborations with BJ Nilsen; but if things progress as they have through those two impeccable albums of glacial drone damage (Vikinga Brennivin and Drykkjuvisur Ohljodanna) and a split LP only release, who the hell cares if they do anything by themselves? For the fourth time, the drunken cabal of Nilsen / Sigmarsson / Thorsson return to the mixing desk with their psychotropic drones laced with Haflerian absurdity; and here on Second Childhood, the three have recruited the upcoming avant-garde cellist Hildur Gudnadottir, who has previously worked with the likes of Mum, Pan Sonic, and Johann Johannsson.
With the opening growl of scratched cello hypnosis plunging into a deep void of low end vibrations, the notions of this collective Second Childhood being warm and fuzzy go out the window with plenty of references to the blackened sprawl generated by the likes of Corrupted, Black Boned Angel, or anything on Battlecruiser. As bleak as gaping minimalism is on most of Second Childhood, the atmospheres do lighten a bit with some narcotic ambient passages of heavily processed guitars and cello that come across like a meeting between Andrew Chalk and Colleen. Yet, as the album comes to a close, the mind-numbingly heavy drones return with the addition of pulsing post-Sahkho rhythms lurking in the background as if somebody next door was thumping out a minimal techno groove. Pretty much everything that BJ Nilsen and Stilluppsteypa produce is well worth investigating, and this continues to be true for their ongoing collaborations. Brilliant.
Elica, the Italian label that brought us, among other things, the Confusional Quartet and Andre Almuro's "Delpi", has unearthed another lost recording. Jean Guerin's "Tacet" is a super rare LP, originally released on the French Futura label (Red Noise,
Instrumention includes trumpets (and "trumpet-in water"), tenor saxophone, double bass, bass guitar, darbouka, percussions, rhythm machine, generator and VCS3. Reissued in a digipak with reproductions of the original album art and liner notes by Philippe Carles, co-author of the "Free Jazz, Black Power."
Guilty Connector is Tokyo's Kohei "Fast" Nakagawa, the one-man goliath of jet engine sonics. Not since Merzbow's "Rainbow Electronics" have you witnessed sheer power and unrelenting force. Remember the first time you put on Monde Bruits? If you miss the Golden Years of noise (circa 1991-1996), this'll certainly take you back...
Japan's one man, harsh electronic,metal machine wrecking crew returns with a 3" cd of 'covers', of Black Sabbath's 'Symptom Of The Universe' and the Ramones' 'Blitzkrieg Bop.' And while Kohei The Fast, the man behind GC, does play actual guitar, the bulk of his sound is made up of "UTSU electronics" and field recordings. You get a glimpse of those classic riffs before they are thrown melody first into the tree shredder, and what comes out the other side is a ear shredding, brain rattling, bone breaking wall of shrieking feedback, buzzing instrument hum and an avalance of white/pink noise. Japanoise fanatics are gonna need this!
Unfortunately a split and not a collaboration, 'Assholes Of The World...' finds New Zealand's Campbell Kneale and Japan's Kohei 'The Fast' (aka Guilty Connector) joining forces in the elite brotherhood of noisy assholes! Kohei starts things off quite unlike the stuff we're used to hearing from him, a simple, static high register drone. But that doesn't last long. All sorts of speaker shredding intrusions pile up on what is now a howling air raid siren-like screech, and then immediately into a sort of Merzbow-ish rhythmic stutter. The second track is a 4 minute blast of hyperchaotic metallic noise. Like some sort of ACTUAL SONG buried under the rotting corpses of Merzbow and Masonna.
You might think Kneale would pull out the big guns and answer back with a mighty blast, but he instead shows some gentlemanly restraint, and offers up one of his most serene pieces yet. What sounds like a single strike of a bell, stretched out as far as it will go, slowly oscillating, sound waves spreading out forever. Subtle insect-like flutters and the SPAREST percussion imaginable, a tiny bit of clatter, a reverby thud every couple of minutes. Quite nice, and a surprisingly subtle rebutt to Guilty Connector's boot to the face.
Weirdly enough, we first heard Guilty Ghosts on some mysterious witch house / drag compilation someone made for us, that track a haunting bit of morose skeletal downer guitar pop, all chiming 4AD guitars over skittery clipped rhythms and soft focus swirls of hushed dreamlike shimmer, not to mention swoonsome strings, listening to that track again now, has us wondering why exactly the rest of the world hasn't caught on to Guilty Ghosts. It's the sort of thing a label like Matador or Fatcat or XL should be flipping out over.
But for now, GG, aka Tristan O'Donnell, is going the DIY route, releasing his own tapes and cd-r's, and we managed to get a handful of the deluxe version of his most recent full length, which does in fact include that mixtape jam we loved so much back in the day, and we're happy to report that the whole record is brimming with more of the same, lush expanses of layered guitars, softly tangled melodies, warm swirling buzz, looped breakbeats, the sound melancholic and wistful, the drum driven jams sounding like a darker, more mysterious underground lo-fi shoegaze pop version of the Happy Mondays, while the more guitarscapey tracks remind us of the Durutti Column, and when the vocals come in, it's total shoegaze dreampop bliss. Just check out "Everlasting Evening", which is the sort of jam we wish would go on forever, a thick swirl of guitar buzz, beneath strummed acoustic guitars, underneath ethereal streaks of tangled psychedelic melodies, buried mysterious samples, and some gorgeous angelic female vox, it's definitely easy to see why GG would be embraced by the witch house camp, but the sound is so much more lush and composed, O'Donnell's sights set somewhere much higher, these tracks expansive and cinematic, with tracks like "Everlasting Evening" reminding us of MBV and Portishead and the like.
The whole record unfurls like a dream, the lush swirling tangle of guitars all on its own would be enough to have us smitten, but the occasional vox, and the various rhythms, the ever shifting drones and textures, all deftly woven into gorgeous sonic dreamscapes, and be sure to check out "Begotten", tucked away near the end of the tape, which just might be our favorite jam here, haunting and lovely, like the brooding slow building soundtrack to some heart wrenching scene in an arty big budget blockbuster, we're surprised someone hasn't snapped this up for some Christopher Nolan trailer or something. So awesome. And obviously totally recommended!!
This limited version includes both a tape, with a printed J-card, a sticker AND a bonus mix cd, which offers up a ton of cool and super varied GG beloved jams, all gathered up in a screen printed canvas drawstring bag.
French sound-artists and improvisers Jean Luc Guionnet and Eric Cordier have built a large interconnected sound sculpture constructed out of parts of stringed instruments (guitars, detuned piano, and cello), percussive elements and metal resonators... all suspended from the ceiling with various wires and instrument strings. As all of these elements are hinged from the same point on the ceiling, each action affects the whole system. So if Jean Luc scrapes one of the wires, the whole systems will shake and bang against each other, with pretty much unplanned results. So their improvisations with the Synapse device are a fusion of post-Einsturzende instrument building, No Neck Blues Band pipe fights, and the conceptual playfulness of "The Way Things Go" filmmakers Ficheli & Weiss.
We weren't sure what to expect from a Scantily Clad side project, but it certainly wasn't this! But we like it. In fact we sort of LOVE it. Unlike the cosmic synth drone of Scantily Clad, Guisher specializes in a dizzying, short attention span collection of home brewed lo-fi cut and paste, slice and dice, collaged, sample heavy, hyper rhythmic loopscapes. Sped up soul samples, snippets of songs off the radio, are slathered in crumbling distortion, then assembled into strange stuttery beatscapes, waves of white noise swallow up the proceedings, only to spit out fragmented shards of pop on the other side.
The sound is awesomely raw and primitive, like some caveman Art Of Noise at times, but the structures and rhythms are often surprisingly complex, and downright groovy at times, while pulverizingly noisy at others. The sound is pretty fantastic, slipping from DJ Shadow like moody skitter to weird world music collage to barely there short wave static in the same track, only to weave some sort of analog assembled electronica on the next track, all lumbering rhythm surrounded by flurries of tangled melodies, and weird swooping backwards effects. And so it goes, a head spinning kitchen sink concoction, a blast of crunchy electric guitars, shards of yacht rock, blasts of static and slowed down voices one second, warm and warbly, shuffling sort-of-electronic woozy rhythmic groovescape the next. So great! And apparently all recorded while on prescription drugs, which definitely might explain everything...
SUPER SUPER LIMITED. ONLY 55 COPIES, partially because the packaging is so deluxe, an oversized photocopied booklet with tons of fold out pages, secret panels, a little multi paneled triangular booklet in the middle, and a foldout poster, all in a plastic bag, each one individually sewed shut with multi-colored thread.
Record number two from this offshoot / sideproject of cosmic synth drone combo, Scantily Clad, and in a way it's a continuation of the wildly chaotic cut and paste collaged weirdness of Hide Your Cold Dome cassette, which we compared to a caveman Art Of Noise, but this time around, it seems like the chaos was reeled in a bit, the sounds more measure and melodic, still fractured and fragmented for sure, but more warm and melodic, in fact tracks like "Tiger Spa" remind us of the whirling underwater sound of Oval, albeit a bit more home brewed and low fidelity. For every streak of soft focus shimmer, there's a little flurry of wild rhythmic skitter, or a cascade of weirdly chopped and screwed melodies. "Jetsam" is another one that displays the 'new' sound, all woozy, crumbling swells, slo-mo rhythms, the vibe more Philip Jeck, a dizzying time lapse sonic drift, lots of gristle and crunch, the sounds raw and rough around the edges, but somehow blurred and smeared into something more more soothing and mesmerizing, the jagged chaos of the first record transformed into a more controlled chaos, which Guisher has swaddled in all manner of lush, soft focus shimmer. Super nice.
Killer packaging too, the lp housed in a reflective anti-static sleeve, that sleeve adorned with a full color paste on track listing, that all wrapped in a super DIY photocopied jacket, and housed in a peach colored plastic sleeve.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!!
Most of you weird music obsessives should probably remember Dutch black ambient freaks Stalaggh, whose MO was creating harsh atonal drones and buzzes, hellish noise drenched soundscapes as backdrops for various vocalists, those vocalists all inmates at a local psychiatric hospital. Yup.
The results were chilling, and creepy, and pretty fucking demented and incredible. Those Stalaggh recordings made even the evilest black metal sound totally tame in comparison. Some seriously emotional, demented and damaged, psychological sonic terror.
Since then, the band has regrouped, now called Gulaggh, with a similar plan of attack, with one little twist, according to the band, Gulaggh will be about "the perversion and inversion of Classical music combined with the vocals of the mentally insane". Definitely sounds good. Or maybe good is not the right word. But like Stalaggh, it seemed like Gulaggh would be equally disturbing.
So here it is. One track, 45 minutes, of totally haunting, mysterious... music? Sound? Soundart? Hard to know how to classify this. The sound of a voice, reverbed, over a deep distant thrum, all wrapped in little bits of hiss and creak, long tones rumble and drone, and then the voices begin to surface, mewling and moaning, groaning and mumbling, all over an insidious low end thrum, horns bleat, various bits of percussion pound scrape, and still the various voices get louder, more and more frenzied, the overall vibe ever more terrifying. The sound does seem to get classical, but more like an orchestra tuning up, abstract tones and atonal bleats and blurps, and then things go fucking apeshit, with all the vocalists, shrieking and screaming and howling, pounding on walls, stomping on floors, the cries growing more and more anguished, then out of nowhere some random drumming comes in, just in the middle of this cacophony of howls and shrieks, building to a frantic climax, before the voices begin to fade, swirling screams, sounding more like kids on a playground, but still intense knowing these aren't kids and they aren't on the playground. The horns step it up, honking and skronking and bleating and moaning, the drums skittering to a halt, then it's a weird fade out, quite voices, humming and murmuring and squeaking beneath the slowly fading horns, streaks of feedback, and that commanding, authoritarian voice from the beginning returns, the track ending how it started.
Holy shit, definitely super intense, and squirm inducing, somewhere between abject black ambience, a horror movie soundtrack, an educational film, a field recording, and a smattering of stumbling musical experimentation. Freaky as all get out, but in it's harrowing miserablism, does lurk moments of beauty, bits of melody, but for the most part those are definitely overshadowed by the evil and misery and terror, that the maniacs in Gulaggh have somehow rendered into music. Or at least sound.
Reservedly recommended. Difficult listening of the highest order, but would definitely be right at home on your cd shelf next to the Conet Project, the Ghost Orchid EVP recordings, and other mysterious and challenging collections of sounds found and otherwise.
A Russian fairytale about a man with an axe who makes "flying porridge"?? Huh? Supposedly that's what this gorgeous album is "about" though since it's mostly instrumental and/or in Russian it's hard to say for sure, in any case it's certainly creepy and bizarre enough to be the soundtrack to such a story, and makes for a fine follow-up to Gultskra Artikler's record for Lampse last year, Pofigistka. That one was one of the strangest and most "actively" melodic or songlike of that label's ambient treasures but went quite well with Jasper TX and Machinefabriek, just as this fits in with Gultskra's new Miasmah labelmates Elegi for instance.
Kasha Iz Topara iz over an hour long, one track flowing into the next, the whole thing a continuous crackling soundscape of darkly dreamy textures, creaking sound FX, ominous chords, fractured and folky guitar, glitchy electronics, and sinister strings... among other things... a mix of haunting cinematic instrumentation, old time Eastern European tradition, and mysterious field recordings. What's not to like?? Axeman, bring more flying porridge please. Definitely for fans of Finnish forest freaks Kemialliset Ystavat, the aforementioned Elegi, and Miasmah label head Svarte Greiner, amongst others.
We've said it before (more than once) but it does bear repeating AGAIN, Lampse is the label of our dreams. Quite literally in fact. Not only have we been totally captivated by every release we've heard so far, each one a gorgeous glistening slab of ethereal ambience, each buried in or delicately obscured by thick layers of gauzy sound or record crackle or tape hiss or any manner of fuzz and buzz, but these Lampse releases are all the perfect drifting off music, late night, lights low, cool breeze, floating off to never never land, sinking into a deep warm blackness, the absolute perfect going to sleep music. Our bedside listening has pretty much been exclusively Jasper TX, Machinefabriek and this dreamlike sonic document from the hard to pronounce Gultskra Artikler.
GA might be the strangest of the bunch, which is saying a lot. The songs are much more active, with more obvious instrumentation, lots of guitars, most rendered into weird little angular shapes, sometimes stretched into gauzy smears, strings everywhere, sometimes pizzicato, drenched in reverb, floating dreamily in a swirling black void, sometimes soaring in the distance, weaving emotional epic backdrops to the sounds in the foreground, lots of mysterious percussion, and wheezing keyboards, fuzzy synths, but where the other two Lampse records we've reviewed employ a serious arsenal of sonic detritus to give their sounds a melancholy soft focus patina, Gultskra Artikler utilize a series of subtle field recordings, low level conversations, clinking silverware, footsteps, wind and rain, as well as what sounds like haunting disembodied tape loops, all woven delicately into the already ephemeral fabric of each song. And the thing is these are actual songs, there are melodies, and refrains and riffs, buried rhythms and soft swells of sweet sound, all rendered in deep shadows and indistinct hues. Grainy sound worlds that creep and swirl, drift and hover, an alien pastoral folk music buried beneath dense whirls of thick fog, slow, sleepy stretches of abstract ambience stretched into songlike shapes and allowed to drift lazily amidst a haunting world of shrouded beauty...
So absolutely lovely!
Philip Jeck. Janek Schaeffer. Otomo Yoshihide. Thomas Brinkman. Saule. These have been some of the recent crop of avant-turntablists whose praises we've sung in the recent past; yet the use of the turntable with experimental music is nothing as novel as the current infatuation would indicate. Turntablism could be traced back to John Cage's Imaginary Landscape (1939), but perhaps a better historical jumping off point for those artists' delirious collage work would be with the early work of Christian Marclay and Non, who both reconfigured the noise and disembodied cultural reference from skipping records in the late '70s. It was that environment of Industrial culture that spawned Gum -- the Australian avant-turntablist duo which began quite literally with a skipping Brian Eno record. While Gum's Andrew Curtis and Philip Samartzis shared a common interest in Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire, and Whitehouse, their work centered upon the volatility of surface noise from cheap turntables that they rescued from thrift stores and junk shops. At the same time, Gum balanced their destructive pursuit of tumultuous noise and electrically charged static with a clinical disembodiment. Even when disco-grooves from the Bee-Gees or porno climaxes get mangled in their Frankensteinian aggregates of loops and layers, it's hardly funky or sexy... rather a wonderfully disturbing mess. Having only a couple of singles on RRR and Korm Plastics as well as two self-released LPs, Gum had remained a secret history within the prolific oeuvre of Australian sound art; and now, thanks to this Vinyl Anthology compendium which features the bulk of their recorded works, the ecstatic expressionism of Gum can now be rediscovered for what it really is: precocious genius.
Brand new single with what might be our favorite track from the most recent Gum Takes Tooth record, Mirrors Fold, which we recently made our Record Of The Week. The A side is the version from the full length, a wild, percussive, tribal workout, a churning sprawl of tranced out rhythms, wreathed in hazy vocal harmonies, the sound falling somewhere between Animal Collective at their most abstract and rhythmic, and William Bennett's post Whitehouse one man Afro-Noise project Cut Hands. So it makes perfect sense that GTT would recruit Cut Hands to remix that track, especially since it already sorta sounded a little like Cut Hands anyway.
But Bennett takes the original, slows it way down, adds tons of distortion, and transforms it into something meaner, and darker and more industrial sounding, still groovy and tribal, but fierce and pounding, those background vocals turned into strange spectral smears, swirling around a monstrous rib cage rattling beat, flecked with stuttery percussive filigree, a whirling psychedelic sprawl of roiling rhythmic crunch, that kills! And has us super excited for the forthcoming Cut Hands full length, and kind wishing Gum Takes Tooth would get Bennett to remix their whole record!
