So lovely is the work of Juppala Kaapio! That said, we must sadly report that the Japanese / Swiss, husband-and-wife duo have stated that Alpen Ocean will be their final album under the guise of Juppala Kaapio. Another project is in the works, and they are planning to unveil whatever this may be sometime in 2014. Many of the drone-clad works we champion hedge their bets with the power of the darkside; but there are plenty of choice examples of rapturous, celestial tones and holy minimalism that seek to enlighten rather than darken the consumers' mind. Juppala Kaapio's small catalogue of lovingly crafted minimalism figures somewhere between the summer solstice nature jams of the Finnish freak-folk types and the twinkling harmonics of Terry Riley and LaMonte Young. As for Alpen Ocean, a brightly hued psychedelia of a sunburst and snowblind tableau is rendered through the wide-eyed sense of awe and wonder after calmly sipping a cup of psilocybin mushroom tea. Carole Kojo's delicate falsettos waver into a meditative chorale through tape loops and delay amidst the slow kaleidoscopic arrangements of chiming bells, bowed gongs, glassy electronics, and a few pastoral field recordings thrown in for good measure. It all comes together into bright, rapturous drones that Juppala Kaapio's Hitoshi Kojo describes as "overlaid harmonies of a murmuring of trees, howling skies, roarings of the ocean and the gradual transformation that are accompanied by melodies which may remind you of migratory birds travelling across the sky on a lost ancient continent, or the dream of sea animals that are in eternal slumber in a ridge of mountains." Limited to a mere 300 copies!
Faux-Finnish, droning freak-folk from a Japanese sound artist and a Swiss chanteuse!
Juppala Kaapio is comprised of Hitoshi & Carole Kojo, whose lysergically bright-eyed concoctions draw from plenty of arcane and archaic folkloric traditions, and emerge as a beguiling, playful form of abstracted psychedelia. We've mentioned before that the name of the project is in fact Finnish, translating as Juppala Dwarf. What, who, or where Juppala is, we don't really know; but the aesthetic which the couple evoke is definitely akin to those adventurous Finns responsible for Kemialliset Ystavat, Avarus, Islaja, and Kuupuu. Bells, flutes, hand percussion, cheap synths, violins, melodicas, vocal chants, and whatnot all go into the buzzing, wheezing thickets of sound that make up Juppala Kaapio's Animalia Corolla. With all of these instruments, the two create dense layerings of glistening textures and radiant drones that slip and slide around quite a bit, but always seem grounded in a fundamental harmonic tone that the two have plucked from the celestial spheres above. It's easy to situate these not only near those Finns, but also Taj Mahal Travellers at their most celebratory, LaMonte Young at his trippiest, and Fursaxa at her most narcotized. Really beautiful transcendent, modern-day ritualism!
We have here the art edition of Animalia Corolla, packaged in a neatly stitched felt sleeve and a screen-printed o-card to house the cd itself. This version is in an edition of ONLY 88 copies. We'll probably not be able to restock this, but we should have the regular version shortly.
A swarmingly beautiful, miasmic piece of psychedelic drone folk! Juppala Kaaplo is the husband & wife duo of Carole and Hitoshi Kojo, the latter of whom had released a number of spectacular drone-smear constructions under the moniker Spiracle. Minimalism is certainly a key component to the Juppala Kaaplo sound, but it's the kaleidoscopic trills that you'll get from Terry Riley rather than the steely suspension from Organum or Phill Niblock. Certainly, Spiracle's last affair - the daydreaming ambient record Ananta - was a much friendlier form of minimalism, but we were still not entirely expecting the shimmering, prism-shot psychedelia of this album. A hypnotizing mass immediately emerges from the lp with lengthy repetitions of Carole's vocal that is equal parts Liz Harris and Tara Burke, haunting the forest-dwelling drones from various bowed instruments that Hitoshi stacks into sinewy passages. Throughout, long breathy gasps of aerated noises push to the foreground alongside a revolving set of church organ trills and arpeggiations that faithfully play homage to Terry Riley's classic Rainbow In Curved Air. The second side is a slightly more somber affair with violin and piano gliding out of an aggregate drone from those two instruments. Like the A-side, it's a wonderful bliss-out number albeit sodden from a rainy night out in the Finnish wilderness. Limited to 450 copies and highly recommended!
Yes, that is faux-fur sprouting from this cd by Juppala Kaapio! As we mentioned before, this duo has a Finnish name and shares a Finnish freak-folk ritualism, but neither participant is Finnish. They are in fact the husband / wife pairing of Carole and Hitoshi Kojo, who bring extended technique vocals, bleary instrumentation from smoke & mirror, and lots of liquid nirvana electronic processing to the source material. Where their earlier works had 'jammed nature' along the Jewelled Antler / RV Paintings / Kemiallyset Ystavat axis with a wistful crunchiness, Rewound Groves marries the golden-summer glow of high-latitude pagan liturgy and the rapturous blur of Andrew Chalk's contributions to Organum or even some of the Taj Mahal Travellers broadcasts to nowhere. The vocals from both Hitoshi and Carole wax and wane on the opening number "Sewing Through Twigs" amongst a richly patterned undulation of glistening drones from what might be bells, might be flutes, might be guitars, might be the sparkle of twilight stars. Watery textures and backmasked tape bridges these sounds with the :zoviet*france: like haze of "Mycophiles And Pebbles" with spectral loops and holy mesmerism sprawled throughout the soft-focus layering of sound. Probably the best thing that Juppala Kaapio has released to date; and given the artwork this is justifiably limited to 123 copies. Brilliant.
Juppala Kaapio is a project with a Finnish name and Finnish credentials, but not a Finn amongst the lot. The parties responsible are the husband and wife duo of Carole and Hitoshi Kojo (the former Swiss and the latter Japanese by birth), but Hitoshi in particular has spent a fair amount of time in the Finnish hinterlands, and had made an appearance on the recent Kemialliset Ystavat album Ullakopalo. That said, Hitoshi has a small but impressive catalog of material recorded over the past decade under the moniker Spiracle. There, thick masses of texture piled on top of each other, creating thick drones with ghostly melodies flickering about, much like the archaic sounding recordings of Organum and the more compacted albums of Andrew Chalk. All of this culminated in the 2cd Ananta opus released back in 2009, and Hitoshi shifting his focus to the collaborative project Juppala Kaapio, whose name translates vaguely as the Juppala Dwarf. The two hint at the thickening drones of Spiracle, focusing more on a clattering, psychedelic ritualism that is more in keeping with all things Fonal - spluttering acoustic guitars, toy synths, Tony Conrad inspired viola drone, hand percussive tappings, prolonged flute tones, lots of bells, found forest objects, and vocalized mantras as if the personal soundtrack to a private ritual for wandering spirits who found themselves in a moss-covered cabin somewhere in the northern reaches of Finland basking in the midnight sun of an endless Arctic summer. Playful, fantastical, haunting, and thoroughly tripped out, Juppala Kaapio is highly recommended to any one keen on Jewelled Antler, Fursaxa, Taj-Mahal Travellers, Parson Sound, the freakiest end of the freak-folk spectrum, and of course the aforementioned Kemialliset Ystavat.
We should all be very grateful to the mailmen who serve aQ. Without them, the aQ list would be a very different beast. They come by almost every day, through sleet and rain if necessary. Usually bearing gifts of strange sounds transported from all corners of the globe. And often, some mysterious unmarked package will contain something special, a gorgeous ambient lp, or some obscure otherworldly folk record, or in many cases, some bizarre twisted chunk of black metal. And often those records will go on to be big time aQ faves, which is bound to be the case with this strange disc from a mysterious black metal horde called Jute Gyte, that just showed up one day in the mail.
The package we got was jammed with records by bands with names like Night Troll, Tremor Of The Black Manx, Pumpkin Buzzard, Testikill, but we were strangely drawn to this Jute Gyte record, weird name, cool oversized dvd style packaging, and once we threw it on we understood why. The description on the label's website introduces us to Jute Gyte with these words:
"A bipedal humanoid rat releases a sandpaper-throated screech as most of its internal organs exit through a huge hole in its furry back. Large and small intestines launch forth in whip-like arcs, briefly straightening into perfectly even ropy lines. A massive snail-demon explodes into fragments of confetti: red, green, blue."
And as weird as that reads, once you immerse yourself in the blown out crumbling ultra raw industrial tinged synth laden black metal of JG, maybe it'll make more sense. Then again, maybe not.
The guitar sound is so fierce and fucked up. Ultra distorted, super saturated and fuzz drenched, not so much chuggy or abrasive as massive and blown out, as if a tiny bit more of anything and the riffs would just crumble to pieces, the drums mechanical and machinelike, the vocals a demonic shriek, howling and anguished, everything wreathed in washed out synths and what sounds like a million layers of distortion. The melodies are super catchy, the sound is impossibly warm and lush, even though in every other way it seems harsh and heavy.
Things slow down here and there, the music transformed into a lurching industrial stomp, all gnarled guitars and new wave synths, almost like some crazy blackened Six Finger Satellite jam. There's a cool abstract mandolin interlude (apparently there's mandolin throughout the whole record too!), that's all super spare and skeletal, before a thick warped and warble synth comes in and obliterates the mandolin, leading directly into the second half of the record, the guitar comes back in and is again sop distorted and heavy, that it almost sounds like a synth, the chords ringing out crumble and distort and cause the speakers to nearly implode. Locked into a churning low end psychedelic blow out, the track just throbs and pulses, not so much metal or industrial as some sort of drone music unleashed, the various tones and notes expanding like miniature supernovas.
After a bout of woozy twisted detuned-guitar post rock drift with harsh vokills, burbling underwater synths, and tangled atonal melodies, like Khanate heard through a funhouse mirror, the record closes with another massive and epic dose of in-the-red blackdrone buzz, like Nadja, if they decided to throw in with the dark lord, another heaving wall of crumbling blackness, wrapped around a surprisingly catchy melody, the drums buried in the mix, just a distant throb, with a lurching stop start arrangement, like some sort of slowed down black metal math rock, but dripping with distortion and effects, infused with spaced out synths, and again on the verge of total implosion. And like the rest of the record, impossibly warm and fuzzy and melodic, while simultaneously being one of the most distorted and blown out things we've ever heard.
This isn't brand new, it's maybe a year old, but we only just discovered it, and figured it was something we had to share with the loyal aQ. Quickly becoming a new black metal favorite, just in time for our year end lists...
The latest from microtonal black metal master Jute Gyte, aka Adam Kalmbach, the third and final installment of a trilogy, but fear not, even if you missed the first two, you won't be too lost. But you will be sort of confused, cuz by it's very nature, the music of Jute Gyte is pretty dizzyingly demented, most folks likely don't have much experience with microtonal tuning, it's certainly rarely (read NEVER) used in popular music, and hell, even Unpopular music like black metal, but just give a listen to the first track below, and you'll understand why. Why most folks don't use it, and why Jute Gyte DOES. It's maddeningly off kilter, to untrained ears (and likely some trained ones too), it sounds out of tune, or more accurately, like it's constantly changing tuning, the first flurry finds the band seemingly slowing down, when in reality, the pitch/melody are in flux, making the whole thing sound like it's melting, it's woozy and warped and seriously WTF, but in a way, the microtonality reminds us of drum and dulcimer weirdos Botanist, who also use a tuning system well beyond the usual guitar and bass. It's even more notable during the less heavy parts, where it really sounds angular and atonal and totally UN-tuned, the whole thing a dizzying concoction of tangled melodies and impossibly obtuse harmonies. Eye watering, ear boggling, next level avant blackness for sure.
It definitely takes some getting used to, but for folks into damaged outsider heaviness, this will totally push all your WTF buttons. Otherwise, JG deliver some seriously orthodox black buzz, it's just that the black buzz here is so bizarrely tuned it sometimes makes stuff like Deathspell Omega and Blut Aus Nord sound like AC/DC. That said, Jute Gyte still deliver some of the fiercest fucking black buzz we've heard, due in no small part to the strange overtones, furious squalls of dizzying insectoid buzz and relentless blast beats, which only make it that more dramatic when it devolves into some loped, lurching, WTF wooziness.
Heavy and damaged, tripped out, fucked up, psychedelic and extremely experimental black metal that will likely have you scratching your head while banging it like crazy. Awesome!
Housed in a dvd style case, with full color artwork and a printed insert/lyric sheet.
Another blast of twisted microtonal black metal from this long time aQ fave, and as we mentioned in our review of the last JG, this might be his 20th record, of which we've only managed to review a handful. But like that last one, Vast Chains, takes all the tropes of black metal, and transforms them into something super psychedelic and avant, the tunings, the arrangements, the melodies, fans of groups like Deathspell Omega, Blut Aus Nord, who traffic in woozy, slippery riffage, and blurred blackness, Jute Gyte takes that experimentalism a step further, black metal fragmented, split into jagged shards, and somehow reconstituted into something at once heavy and harsh, but also weirdly melodic and mesmerizing, but also, totally batshit WTF, Ocrilim / Orthrelm worthy avant-shred, but that shred here is more about texture, as the guitar parts and riffs are so odd, so damaged and atonal, sometimes they conjure utter beauty, lush lovely sonic swells, other times, they're so warped they almost make your eyes water. Opener "Semen Dried Into The Silence Of Rock And Mineral", lays it all out, sounding a bit like a slow motion Mesuhuggah, or a super spare, 20th century Deathspell, the sound chugging and churning, creeping and slithering, the vibe more doomy really than black, the arrangement confoundingly mathy, intricate and constantly shifting, and the guitars, holy shit, even when the heaviness is peeled back, leaving just some haunting clean guitar shimmer, those parts somehow sound even MORE strange and alien.
There is definitely plenty of black buzz, the dizzying Voivod meets Deathspell fury of "Endless Moths Swarming", is so dense and droned out, it almost seems to smear into something beyond black metal, a sort of avant drone-buzz blackness. There's also weird poppiness, like the clean chiming guitar melodies woven into "The Inexpressible Loneliness Of Thinking", that at times almost sounds like some sort of blackened cold wave / gloom pop, but is laced with some impossibly catchy melodies, that seem to slip out of the microtonal tuning, just for a second, before collapsing back into a swirling black hole of avant sonics.
Holy shit this stuff is amazing and bafflingly brilliant. We're kind of shocked that this guy is still self-releasing it. It's really about time a label like Relapse, or Season Of Mist, or Profound Lore, finally step up and expose Jute Gyte's twisted blackness to the masses.
Packaged in a DVD style case with a full color cover, and a printed insert/lyric sheet.
Seems like local label Black Horizons must have put this split together just for us. Two of our noisy outsider black metal faves together on one tape, up first, microtonal black metal one man band Jute Gyte, whose sound is a strange sonic brew, the microtonality, sounding just out of tune at first blush, but lending the sound a super twisted, off kilter, psychedelic vibe, the first track here is a dizzying, clean guitar sprawl, all woozy overtones and eye watering melodies, but then when the metal kicks in, it's crushing, and tripped out and impossibly heavy, almost industrial sounding, the churning black buzz riffage, peppered with weird atonal psychedelic squiggles, and fracture melodic shards, and the vocals, a sick, hellish gargle, mathy and progged out, with some super dense tranced out breakdowns, where it sounds like the riffs are melting or slowing down, before erupting into another blast of twisted buzz, that somehow gets impossibly more and more chaotic and sonically off kilter as it goes. The second JG track begins as a loping, lumbering dirge, with weirdly placed pauses, the sound lurching, weirdly detuned and fucked up sounding, warped and woozy, and after a long stretch of cool, softnoise ambience, explodes into a metallic noise rock blowout, all grinding and pounding and howling, before fracturing and devolving into that original atonal avant detuned creep. So weird, but SO cool.
The other side is a single, 27+ minute epic from USBM noiseniks Venowl, who drape pizzicato plucks and scraped strings, over a bed of dense, downtuned rumble, and sporadic caveman drumming, some inhuman shrieking vokills too give this a sort of Khanate vibe, but even more sick and sinister, abstract and lo-fi. It's like black doom musique concrete. The rumbles and whirs to coalesce into a sort-of-riff at times, a churning, crumbling, brittle beast of a riff, which seems to be haphazardly looped, giving everything a super off kilter feel, structureless almost, the sound not metal so much as a sort of avant experimental minimal 20th century doom, riffs become grinding scrapes, drums come in blurts and blats, and those vocals, like insane backwards demonic pig squeal shrieks, that raise the hair on the back of your neck, as does the music really, abject avant blackened horror doom of the highest order, recommended for fans of things grim, and twisted, hateful, harsh and harrowing.
Like all Black Horizons release, the packaging is over the top, the J-card this time, all silver and gold metallic ink on a fold out black matte cardstock, gorgeous design too, the tapes themselves as well, and as always, EXTREMELY LIMITED.
The Miasmah label has been on fire lately! Without a doubt they have become one of the most consistently dependable labels releasing layered, dark, haunting, droned out mysterious sounds. This time around the label has gone back to the '90s to unearth some amazing sounds that somehow never managed to get a proper widespread release. It makes sense that this Norwegian band's moniker means 'abyss'. The music makes the listener feel like they are floating around the charred remains of a civilization that has been doomed, yet there is still something so paralyzing and beautiful about the void and desolation.
It's so impressive that this was recorded between 1996-1998, a decade before the outburst of so many drone based recordings that we have constantly freaked out over. With a sound that is so haunted, nuanced, layered, and so perfectly executed, taking in the more ambient and creepy side of black metal and doom drone luminaries like Burzum, SUNNO))) and Paysage D'Hiver, the soundscape imagination of Philip Jeck, and the minimalist intensity of Tony Conrad and Deathprod.
Like the soundtrack to a horror movie that isn't as much about shock and awe as it is about casting a very real spell that shimmers with isolation and a beautiful kind of despair. As with most things on Miasmah, so very recommended.
We're always so pleasantly pleased to receive music from and by our mailorder customers from around the globe! K is from Portugal. In case you couldn't tell from the album's title, this is some intensely ominous music. Rolling swells of dank guitar generated drones dominate the seven tracks. Industrial grindings and IDM-esque rhythmic sequences occasionally emerge from the deep smothering roar. Chill-inducing and apocalyptic.
Both K-Group and Omit have been longtime Aquarius favorites from the New Zealand experimental noise scene; but unfortunately, they've been pretty quiet in their respective outputs during the past couple of years. K-Group is the solo project for Paul Toohey, who has also worked in the (defunct?) Surface Of The Earth, both of which centered around low-frequency tectonic drones coaxed from abused amplifiers. Clinton Williams has taken up the Omit moniker for his creepy, tape loop compositions loaded with bleak sci-fi / psychotic imagery. This collaboration between Williams and Toohey is actually their second, if you count a 7" which came out ages ago. In running Williams' battery of analogue synths through Toohey's cabinets, they've constructed an eerie album of deep rumblings that are on par with anything that Coleclough, Koner, or Troum have managed to release. As the K-Group / Omit drones ripple with a gritty amplifier buzz often lacking in the driftwork of those aforementioned artists, "Storage" pulses with a subterrenean heaviness, pushing this closer towards the Earth / Sunn 0))) terrain. A really wonderful album!!!
Ok, so AQ customers are likely well aware of the "New Wave Of Finnish Heavy Metal" movement popularized by Circle and cohorts, an alleged genre that's usually more krautrock than metal anyway, but is certainly Finnish. Well, drop the heavy metal part and you've got Finnish New Wave, eh? And that's what new Smalltown Supersound act K-X-P are up to. Synth-laden '80s inspired "New Wave" from Finland, played on drums, bass, and keys (no guitar), with plenty of that motorik krautrock groove Circle and Co. are known for as well. One of their two, rotating drummers (they switch off on this recording) is in fact Tomi from Circle and Aavikko so that certainly makes sense.
Consisting largely of instrumental grooves, these eight tracks are heavy on the electronics, and driving hypnotic rhythms, with some vocals here and there, that at times remind us of Adam & The Ants, or what we think we remember Adam Ant sounding like, though the vocals in "Pockets" are weirdly effected in a way that makes 'em sound almost like Mika Ratto from Circle, singing over Gary Numan-like throbbing synth pop. K-X-P doesn't lack variety, "Mehu Moments" actually reminds us of a krauty version of that Charanjit Singh Ten Ragas To A Disco Beat reissue, it's got that "exotic" vibe with synth squiggle freaking out over steady pulsations, and "18 Hours (Of Love)" has a bit of a glammy Gary Glitter shuffle-time Fred Bigot feel to it, with the singer chanting anthemically over rhythmically spaced electronic distortion-detonations. Elsewhere, K-X-P offer up moodier, dubbier excursions. And yeah, with our love of Finland, and Circle, and krautrock, and coldwave, and noise, and disco, and dub, this pushes plenty of buttons. So this disc has been getting a lot of instore play here at AQ, as word passes from one staffer to another...
We'd happily recommend this to you if you enjoy some/most/any/all of the following: Jonas Reinhardt, Aavikko, Neu!, Suicide, Circle, Cold Cave, Salvatore, Bronze, even Rah Bras.
Aleister Crowley-obsessed, site-specific dronologist Pietro Riparbelli, aka K11, returns with a new disc for the esteemed Utech label. This philosophical Italian sound artist has produced several previous recordings of ritualistic droned-out ambience that we've found highly enjoyable & evocative, using - and very much meaning - words like "haunting", "enigmatic", and "arcane" in our review of 2010's Metaphonic Portrait 1230 A.D., an album made with shortwave radio receivers in a reverberant cathedral. Further, we compared it to the work of of both Nadja and Tim Hecker, big aQ faves both.
Like the other discs of his we've had, this new effort essentially consists of field recordings from a ceremonial sonic space both created, and documented, by K11. It finds Riparbelli once again capturing hauntological signals from the ether, his shortwave radios apparently dialed to "the other side"... via K11's technology, distorted drones rise from the abyss. It's an electronic seance of sorts, taking place in the Temple Of Diana in Cefalu, Sicily, a historic site associated with The Great Beast himself, occultist Aleister Crowley, who performed yogic mediations and other rituals there in the early 1920s. According to Utech, the aim was for K11 to try and "reclaim the echo of Crowley's presence" in the temple via what is called an "instrumental transcommunication action". Well, whatever one might think of Crowley himself, as well as such "magickal" aural endeavors, we all can appreciate a harrowing, beautiful, atmospheric drone recording - and whether or not Crowley's spirit is in fact heard here, it's not hard to IMAGINE it is, amidst all the hiss and hum and blown out drones. It's powerful played loud, but there are quiet moments too, some revealing field recordings of the more mundane world where the temple stands, with bird twitter and the near-silence of empty spaces. K11's radiowave whines, shimmering elusively, even coalesce into something almost melodic at times. Certainly recommended!
As an Utech release, this comes in typically outstanding packaging, a dim translucent sleeve holding the cd and a half dozen square clear acetate sheets bearing excellent pen & ink drawings by Viral Graphics, relating to Crowley and the Temple Of Diana, including a close-up portrait of Crowley, eyes closed, perhaps concentrating in his yogic meditation. The drawings can thus be viewed separately or together, layered in a myriad of combinations, the idea being a visual analog of the "echoes" that K11's audio research documents. Very nicely done. Limited to 300 copies only.
K11 is sound artist Pietro Riparbelli, whose concepts are based on spaces as much as sounds. On the last K11 record, Riparbelli recorded short wave radios and receivers placed in Aleister Crowley's Thelema Abbey in Cefalu, Sicily, letting the sounds resonate and reverberate, creating gorgeous clouds of echoey drone and deep haunting rumble. For Metaphonic Portrait 1230 A.D., Riparbelli set up inside Assisi Cathedral in Umbria, again employing shortwave radios and receivers, harnessing the natural acoustics of the building, in this case, the cathedral's lower basilica, where the remains of St. Francis are kept. Adding only bits of organ and voice, Riparbelli has created an epic abstract dronescape, haunting and mysterious, the tones layered into huge walls of sound, allowed to ring out, sometimes fading to a distant shimmer, other times exploding in a cacophonous roar.
There's tolling bells, disembodied voices, blurred into ghostlike streaks, crumbling natural distortion that occasionally builds to a heaving chordal crush that could be Nadja or Tim Hecker. In fact, much of the sounds here, field recordings and recontextualized field recordings, organs and voices, begin to sound as old as the cathedral they were recorded in, some ritualistic conjuring, as if some strange sonic entity laid dormant for hundreds of years, only to be awakened, and captured on magnetic tape. Or imagine some strange recording device that doesn't just capture sound, but the sound of all the spirits and spiritual energy that ever existed in a certain space, hence the strange voices, the howling buzz, the keening melodic shards...
Less an exercise in field recordings, and more a gorgeous assemblage of field recorded sound. Not knowing the source of the music, one would still be captivated by these thick droned out buzzscapes, and epic high end ur-drones, the mysterious shimmer, the smeared voices, it definitely has the feel of some damaged turntable installation, like Philip Jeck set up in the dungeon of some castle, but knowing the mysterious source, and unique setting, only makes the music within that much more arcane and enigmatic.
The cd includes a video of the cathedral where the music was recorded as well...
It's always a challenge to meld electronic and organic sounds. When done correctly, it can be sublime, an otherworldly fusion of seemingly diametrically opposed musics, an impossible hybrid that on rare occasions can most definitely transcend its constituent parts. When done incorrectly, it can sound flat and forced. Or can simply not work at all. Most egregiously, the enduring 'electronica flecked folk' that we do on occasion love, but which in most cases is simply pedestrian strum and croon peppered with glitch and buzz and somehow presented as avant.
But this, this is something else entirely, an unlikely fusion of acoustic percussion, electronic studio production, various bits of programming and processing, and most importantly, recordings of actual Kenyan folk music, vocalists, traditional string instruments, all woven seamlessly into Kacirek's subtle sublime productions. It definitely makes more sense once you realize Kacirek is in fact a virtuoso jazz drummer and percussionist, thus the rhythmic focus of The Kenya Sessions, but that background in drumming hardly prepares us for this, a heady, propulsive, effusive, dark and mysterious bout of electronic folk music. And minus the voices, it's practically impossible to discern the Kenyan field recordings from the studio productions, there are moments of skittery Kompakt-like techno shuffle, but just as often, it Kacirek playing Marimba, or playing on a snare with brushes, and wrapping those sounds around the buzz of some African stringed instrument, or taking the various rhythms and weaving them into a lush, pulsing backdrop for some lovely vocalizing, the results are incredible, and range from the dark, buzzing and brooding opening track, "Arsenal Aluny Village", which almost sounds like a super minimal African Portishead, to the twangy shuffle of "Old Man Small Studio", the electronics dialed way back, but the marimba and tuned percussive melodies adding a distinctly Western pop element to the more traditional sounding vocals, or the murky almost Oval-esque shimmer of "Dear Anastasia", the backdrop smokey and sultry, the melodies dark and minor key, but then the vocals again transform the song into something completely original and very much unlike anything you've ever heard.
Imagine your favorite Sublime Frequencies compilation, or one of the Ethiopiques collections, if they were released on Kompakt, or imagine How To Dress Well composing a chill out soundtrack for late night Kenyan clublife, there aren't any 'beats' proper, instead the rhythms pulse and throb, shimmer and shuffle, skitter and stutter, usually super subtle, as textural as they are rhythmic, tangled up with pianos and marimbas, and then the Kenyan recordings, traditional instruments, twang and buzz, and those vocals, soulful and emotional, sometimes call and response, other times moody and crooned, and the sounds while often electronic, borderline 'techno' sounding even, just as often, veer toward something else entirely, more concerned with evoking a mood, creating a gorgeous ambient space, one that often explodes into something rhythmic and propulsive, but just as often slips into something hushed, and minimal, mysterious and lovely.
The record finishes off with the amazing "Takaye Preaching", which does indeed seem to be some preacher preaching, whose almost song like sermonizing, is accompanied by some perfectly matched up rhythmic flurries, skittery muted grooves and shuffling percussion, the rapidfire vocal delivery somehow softened by Kacireks's instrumental accompaniment, the result sounding like some moody jazzy drift wrapped around a hyper hip hop flow, but again, once the two elements are melded, it's hard to imagine that this was constructed in a studio, and not some sort of unlikely jam session, which is pretty much the magic of the whole record. A fantastically unique sonic document, a sort of avant world electronica, or minimal electro Kenyan soul, or maybe downtempo electro worldmusic, whatever you wanna call it, we're loving it, and odds are you will too.
Kadet Kuhne is a San Francisco based media-artist, who often pulls the worlds of experimental video and avant-garde electronics closer together through her seamless audio-visual explorations of digitized fragments and mulched sonic detritus. Matter Of Mind is her first full album in nearly 8 years, although she certainly had plenty of performances, screenings, installations, and collaborations during that time. That said, this album does follow neatly with the previous record Thin Air in its ghostly abstraction of softened glitches, polished surfaces, and rounded tones not to far from the orbits of Jan Jelinek or Oval, with melodic fragments emerging sporadically through the time-stretched filigree and pixelated gaseousness. On "Ruminant," Kadet brings to the foreground the unprocessed sounds of a clarinet (courtesy of Giselle Eastman) amidst the digital smoke and mirror sound design of refracted noir, sounding like an updated version of the Vangelis soundtrack for Blade Runner. Her track "Encoded" responds to a process that Lucky Dragons used on John Coltrane's A Love Supreme to turn it into a visual score; here, she transformed the Coltrane classic into binary data and reassembled the audio signal output into a thoroughly abstracted corollary. Obviously, some of the original has been reintroduced with a subtle groove from a deconstructed bassline and a skittering rhythmic sample emerges amidst the digitally scrubbed and mulched-to-graynoise data. Her most refined work to date!
As we've mentioned before, American ex-pat and former hardcore drummer Jason Kahn made a radical shift away from the SST punk style jams he was kicking out during the '80s toward an avant-drone-noise-improv type of career that has taken him to Zurich, Switzerland. Yeah, it is a career for him, but the price one has to pay for having a sound-art career is a constant tour / exhibition schedule. Rock'n'roll may have its fortune seekers, but a steady paycheck through sound-art? Not very likely. Yet, Kahn has done it; and done it by producing work that is incredibly refined through his own take on electro-acoustic strategies, modular synth exploration, holy minimalist composition, and an occasional percussion flourish in ghostly deference to his former life as the drummer for Leaving Trains. With all of the touring and exhibitions (seriously, his schedule is fucking insane!), solo releases from Jason Kahn can be fleeting (although he's very prolific with his collaborative contributions). So, this new production from Kahn is something that could be celebrated simply because the man somehow found the time to get this out in the world; but that would be selling it short... as On Metal Shores is a brilliant piece of shimmering, gasping minimalism that glides out of acoustically-sourced drone reminiscent of Andrew Chalk and Organum, the metallurgically organic swells of Alan Lamb's wire recordings, and the graceful minimalism of Eliane Radigue and Roland Kayn. Kahn writes at great length in the liner notes about some of the situations for the source recordings, including the nice image of Jason Kahn tapping on a resonant hand-railing near Lake Zurich as local birds would congregate and take off depending on the volume of Kahn's rhythm-n-drone. These elements along with long-thin-wire instruments attached to transducers, the thrum of giant water tanks, drainage pipe raspings, and much more get worked into Kahn's shifting drones that accrete into swollen crescendos of complex shimmered noise and harmonic interplay. This stunner of an album is limited to 250 copies, hand numbered, and hand-painted.
Strange that we, of all people, didn't realize this before - the Jason Kahn who has been producing extraordinary minimalist compositions and beautifully subtle sound installations in recent years is the same Jason Kahn who had stints as the drummer for mid-'80s, SST bands Trotsky Icepick, The Leaving Trains (one of Andee's all time faves!), and Universal Congress Of. Believe it! Around 1990, Kahn moved to Europe, dropping out of the US art-punk / post-hardcore scene and effortlessly transitioning into the avant-garde improv community in Zurich. He soon began experimenting with feedback systems resonating within the architecture of his drum kit, discovering a vocabulary of noises that have become the building blocks for his current body of work. A man of numerous collaborations (Gunter Muller, Ralph Steinbruchel, Asher, Steve Roden, Kevin Drumm, Jon Mueller, Toshimaru Nakamura, etc.), solo Jason Kahn records don't happen ever so often; and this one on 23five is exquisite!
On Vanishing Point, Kahn's techniques shift a little bit from the feedback bouncing around the innards of his drum kit to a series of colored noises generated from his custom built, patch-bay synth. The album reveals itself as a subtle and hypnotic elegy for rattling metals, timbral vibration, gossamer static, hissing field recordings, and those aforementioned softened noises. Soon into the piece, Kahn introduces a flickered ghost of melody whose luminous tones manifest ever so slightly against his contrails of noise. The upper register hiss and statics of these layered noises slowly drop in pitch and frequency over the duration of the piece, revealing subharmonic rumblings and an oceanic current that tugs at the agitated textures of Kahn's surface noises. This glacial, minimalist shift renders Vanishing Point elegant and meditative.
For those familiar with the 23five catalogue, this fits snugly next to those awesome records on 23five from Jean-Francois Laporte and Tim Catlin; and for those who are not, the calm surfaces of Kevin Drumm, the crackled surface noise of Loren Chasse's Hedge Of Nerves, the spectral reflections from Alan Lamb's wire recordings, and even the placid side of Taiga Remains could be jumping off points into this excellent album.
This is a pairing that we didn't expect; and without a doubt, we didn't expect it to be so good. Jason Kahn is an American ex-pat living in Switzerland, having made a smooth transition from the percussive ends of improv into a drone heavy minimalism that often derives from the resonant frequencies of snares and floor toms. Earlier in 2008, Kahn delivered a transcendent live set at the San Francisco Art Institute with little more than an amplifier, a drum head, and some basic electronics. Asher Thal-Nir has impressed us with his ultra-quiet renderings of whispered field recordings and gauzy atmospherics, on par with some of the best work from Bernhard Gunter (what ever happened to that guy, anyway?). The album begins with rasping din of soft metals like aluminum or copper rattling against each other. For those familiar with Kahn's work, this tactile acoustic noise sounds just like one of his feedback systems transmitted through his drum kit; however, the sources for this album are all field recordings. Asher provided the environmental sounds from the back alleys of Boston, with ventilators, heating units, and other motors that ceaselessly rumble in the urban landscape. Kahn picked the far more pastoral sounds of Lake Zurich. It's almost as if Asher decided upon sounds better suited to Kahn's aesthetic and Kahn to Asher's sensibility. In any case, the huge rumble of subharmonics from Asher's industrial field recordings becomes this leaden cloud that weighs very heavily upon the recording. The fastidious production work between these two subtly shifts the clamorous frequencies into singing overtones, resembling a Ligetti chorale at times or a Pandit Pran Nath harmonium drone at another. But by the end of the record, the thick drone collapses into a vibrating black hole with ripples of negative energy fading into the soft patter of those lakeside field recordings. Definitely for fans of Phill Niblock, John Duncan's drone work, and Kevin Drumm's Imperial Distortion. Very fucking cool.
Richard Francis is one of the quieter musicians to hail from New Zealand. His sparse productions opt for a restrained set of grey noises and tactile field recordings that softens the archetypal gnarled NZ distortion of folks like Michael Morley, Antony Milton, or Campbell Kneale. He's also not nearly as prolific as those three, which is a shame as Francis' work has proven to be amazingly consistent over the years.
Here, he's presenting a collaborative body of work in collusion with a man who is nothing but prolific, the Swiss-based sound artist Jason Kahn. Given Kahn's studious use of particular noises (white, pink, blue, brown, etc.), Francis has certainly proven to be one of the more complementary musicians that Kahn has worked with over his lengthy career.
The eponymous record presents four extracts from live performances the two managed in both Switzerland and New Zealand in 2007 and 2008. Kahn's set-up often involves pushing particular, restrained noises and synthesized frequencies through the body of a floor tom, and controlling the feedback that can accumulate within that small architectural space; and Francis goes for the virtual systems through the computer interface. But the two can achieve rather similar results with different tools. These gravely, tactile sounds percolate, scrape, and vibrate their way into shifting sedimentary layers which ultimately form a meditative set of broken minimalism. The opening track features a gong-like set of metallic reverberations that billow against an agitated data-stream, which builds through accreted layers of deep low-end drones. Elsewhere, similarly subterranean tones softly rupture with a low-impact distortion grating clouds of grey static. Like on Kahn's groundbreaking album Vanishing Point, fragmented melodies quietly ripple well below the surfaces of noises, occasionally breaking through the hiss in oceanic swells of drone. Very nicely done!
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Latest in the ongoing series of lovingly packaged, super limited releases from UK label Paradigms, who ostensibly are a metal label, but whose releases are sonically all over the map, the gothic chamber music of Amber Asylum, the buzzing blackness of Utlagr and Throne Of Katarsis, the blessed out dream done of the Angelic Process, the psychedelic space folk of Plants, the grinding cinematic noise of Gnaw Their Tongues, the black ambient of Wraiths, the metallic post prog rock of Woburn House, the ultra doooooom of Hjarnidaudi and we could go on and on.
And we most likely will as Paradigms shows no sign of slowing down. Two new releases this time around, a disc of dreamy wispy neo-classical ambience from a group called Aythis, and this here slab of progged out bombastic post black metal from Italian horde Kailash.
Equal parts Slint-y black swoon, Opeth like metallic prog, Don Cab like mathy chaos, and plenty of folky strum and doomy lurch.
The tracks are long and proggy, lots of parts, the guitars swinging wildly from finger picked folky flutter, to furious black buzz, grinding out jagged angular riffs one minute, unfurling lilting minor key melodies the next. The drums though hold it all together, incredible fills, blasting double bass, convoluted tangles of odd time signatures, occasionally growled demonic vox, but it's all about the music, even were it instrumental, these songs would be plenty dense and busy, varied and complex to keep your head spinning (and most likely banging).
The label drops names like Ved Buens Ende, Fleurty, Death, Opeth, Emperor, Agolloch and Ulver, and certainly, folks who dig any / all of those bands will certainly be into what Kailash are doing, but to our ears much of this seems a lot mathier, way more dense and complex, and some of the time it really does sound like a black metal Don Cab, but then there's the saxophone (!), never the best idea really in almost any sort of music (outside jazz) and weirdly enough, Kailash drop in some smoky sax here and there, changing the vibe completely, turning it into some sort of blackened Gerry Rafferty jam, but fear not, a burst of furious mathy proggy heaviness is usually right around the corner...
Limited to 750 copies, packaged in a mini lp style sleeve wrapped in a hand stamped brown paper outer sleeve.
With a bicycle wheel, a reel-to-reel tape machine, and a few bits of electronics, Jim Kaiser has been a stalwart in the Bay Area improv / experimental community, having worked in French Radio (with Bruce Anderson of MX80), NF Orchest, and Thomas Carnacki's ensemble. But one of his more prolific collaborations has been with Angela Hsu, who's a classically trained violinist who pushes her instrument with tone-bending effects and improvisational techniques. For all of their performances over many years, we're pretty sure that this is their first released recording. Despite the date-as-title alluding to this being a live recording, this is actually a studio production, albeit one that was recorded straight to tape, or more likely to hard drive. During this session, Hsu's violin offers up descending plinks that cascade in a delay ridden tumble, sounding like crumbled bits from some undisclosed orchestral score. Beneath this, there is a grey dinscape constructed from Kaiser's bowed bike wheel and a muddled hiss from the tape machine. It could be a field recording of some sort, playing through the corroded heads of that reel-to-reel, but it's so obfuscated as to be a thick cloud of Philip Jeck dust warbling with varispeed jolts alongside scattered noises and caterwauling screeches, ripping in an agitated field of delay patterns. Limited to something like 25 copies. Don't expect these around for long!
The Last Theft is a 1987 short film by the Czech stop-motion animator Jiri Barta, whose sensibility is not far from that of Jan Svankmejer. East Bay improvisers Jim Kaiser and Angela Hsu took up the challenge of working with this baroquely dark fairy tale of a short, using their signature instrumentation for reel-to-reel tape, bicycle wheel, violin, and a few choice effects pedals. Where their collaborations are typically clustered around squiggles and screeches from bowing the bike wheel and scraping against the violin, this 'alternate soundtrack' is considerably moodier and spun around the a warbling industrial-strength drone axis. Long-form bellows and primeval discordant textures weave a growling, ominous atmospheres rich with opium smoke laced with asbestos dust, altogether sounding not all that far from the classic works by Organum or Taj Mahal Travellers. It should also be noted that Spoonbender 1.1.1. scored a very different piece to a condensed version of the film!
A bicycle wheel, a bow, a couple of radios, and a few open reel tape decks - that's all East Bay avant-noise artist Jim Kaiser brought with him during a tour of Eastern Europe in 2013, and even the bicycle wheels he managed to borrow in Prague and Berlin. Yet, his practice through these reductive tools dials in the juxtaposition of those various objects to craft one of the more unique aesthetics from the Bay Area's vibrant communities of sub-underground musicians. Informed by the instrumentation of industrial texture and acoustic noise a la David Jackman / Organum as well as the cassette murk of the Joseph Hammer liaisons within the Los Angeles Free Music Society, Kaiser's work explores a psychic sewer system of lost transmissions echoing through the damp, concrete architecture. Dank drones of bowed metals leak through super-fucking wet reverb units, with field recordings of wind-swept noise and garbled conversation that sound as if they were being echoed through a network of drainage pipes obfuscating everything except for the murmuring patter of a female human voice. At the conclusion of this 20 minute piece, Kaiser bloodies his knuckles on a somewhat restrained smashjob of fist-to-glass-to-contact-microphone. It's restrained in comparison to the chaotic torrents of Einsturzende Neubauten or Justice Yeldham. Still, Kaiser's cracked glass ramps up to a suitable abrasive conclusion after which the power is suitably cut. Exit stage left. Limited to just 35 copies.
It's unlikely that Michael Anacker (aka Kallabris) had much if anything to do with the once prolific, post-industrial outfit Cranioclast; but Kallabris did release a couple of magnificent pieces of submariner drone records in the late '80s through the Jazztone imprint which had some sort of cohabitation with the Cranioclast in-house label CoC. In many ways, those early Kallabris records were an obvious precursor to what Leyland Kirby has done recently with his Caretaker project in conjuring the mood of a Victorian ship slowly sinking out at sea. Haunted melodies, incidental creaks of distressed metal, and maudlin ambience are found in both sets of recordings. Jump ahead a decade or two, and Kallabris has buried some of the emotional sentiment found in his earlier work, moving more towards a sense of dislocation and unease through electro-acoustic means. Indebted to the German cut-n-paste work of P16.D.4 and G*Park, Music For Very Simple Objects may have begun humbly (e.g. field recordings and found objects), but results in two highly refined collages. The first side is filled with empty holes, bracketed by small events which get treated with all sorts of oblique effects, ending up sounding stoic and black in nature. The flip is more of the 'drone' side recalling the early Kallabris sounds (after-all this is released by Troum's Drone Records!), with slippery sustained tones oozing out of a musique concrete introduction of gossamer metallic klanks and clicks.
The RVNG Int'l label has been killing it lately with 3 incredible archival releases in a row highlighting the marginal worlds of second generation avant-garde ambient electronic auteurs. The first two were the spacey electro-industrial "folk" productions of Craig Leon and the blithely elusive Eno-worship of Seattle's K. Leimer. But it's this third release that we have been most excited about and that is the rare early recordings of France's Ariel Kalma, a polymath musician and spiritual explorer whose sonic endeavors cross-pollinate multiple genres of music including free jazz, minimalism, musique concrete, experimental tape music, long-form ragas and proto-new age devotional ambience.
We made Kalma's 1978 masterwork of rainforest field recordings and atmospheric horn and organ textures, Osmose, Record of The Week when it was finally reissued back in 2006. There his interest in the correlations of sound and nature culminated brilliantly after years working with avant-garde musique concrete titan Pierre Henry at the legendary Institut National Audiovisuel, Groupe de Recherches Musicales (INA GRM) studios � the same sound laboratory that spawned masterpieces by members Luc Ferrari, Iannis Xenakis, and Bernard Parmegiani. But Kalma's restless wanderlust led him to travel, first to India, where he mastered circular breathing to be able to play the saxophone in continuous looping repetitions, then to New York where he briefly joined the mysterious musical spiritual collective, Arica, meeting one of his heroes, Don Cherry along the way.
Evolutionary music spans a fertile period of little heard recordings between 1972 and 1979 that were culled mostly from private press lps and rare cassette releases. Terry Riley-ish organ repetitions, Percussive pieces, Experimental vocal tape recordings, ragas, interplanetary jazz motifs and spacious gorgeous ambient drones. A beautiful collection of head music that comes of course highly recommended!!!!
We raved over the earlier reissue of minimalist composer Ariel Kalma's 1978 epic Osmose. So much so we made it a Record of the Week! Now Beta-Lactam Ring has reissued Kalma's 1975 debut Les Temps des Moissons (Time of The Harvest), a foray into electronic ragas using saxophone (lots of sax), ethnic instruments, effects and all manners of electronic filters. Less proto-new age sounding than Osmose, Les Temps takes cues from Terry Riley's Poppy NoGood explorations with saxophone and time delay and expands on them with krautier influences using kalimbas, flutes and wah-wah effects into a metaphysical tapestry of free music. Fans of Riley, early Kraftwerk and Joakim Skogsberg will find lots to love here! As long as you don't mind sax...
There's something truly magical about music in nature. And we don't mean the music we find in nature, although more often than not, that natural music is far more interesting and beautiful then anything we humans can conjure up. No, we're talking about playing music -with- nature, -in-nature. The act of collaborating with something so big, so grand, so overwhelmingly complex, that sometimes just the mere act of creating sounds away from the studio or stage, just being outside in nature with your music, can seem truly divine. And as listeners, there is something thrilling about man and nature working together to make music. From the primitive forest black metal blast of Ulver recording Nattens Madrigal in the Norwegian woods, to the Jewelled Antler collective communing with nature, allowing wind and rain and sticks and stones to play as important a part in their music as they themselves, to the rain soaked ritual of Koukiji Kougezan's Live [11th] Final Hyakusenmansyuuraku, a near ambient performance for flute and sitar, with the falling rain, and thus nature, the focal point of the ritual / performance. So lovely, and vital, the music seems so much more whole, so much more alive, all intertwined with the elements.
Osmose was originally released in 1978 and found minimalist composer Ariel Kalma using all manner of keyboards, saxophone, harmonium, delays, effects, even circular breathing, to compose gorgeously minimal, softly spacey slow drifting ambient soundscapes, which were then mixed with the sounds of the rainforest (recorded by Richard Tinti). But unlike new age meditational music, this wasn't just music layered on top of random bits of field recordings, Kalma actually composed and mixed, edited and arranged his compositions to work with and within the sounds of the rainforest. Abstract melodies and warm chordal swirls, simple tribal war drums, perfectly blended with the calls of crickets and frogs and cicadas, the falling rain, birdsongs, flies, and all the sounds of the jungle forest. It sounds almost as if, while walking through the forest, you'd be just as likely to stumble across a bunch of analog synthesizers basking in a sunny glade or a wheezing harmonium perched in low hanging branches as you would frogs gathered by the edge of the stream. Sounds strange, but that's how interconnected the natural sounds are with Kalma's compositions. The distant animal calls sometimes form primitive loops, while Kalma paints them with warm soft smears of sound, extended drones and dreamy drifty ambience. Simple rhythms repeat while the sounds of the forest drift lazily by, everything sun dappled or rain soaked, It's almost like a pop ambient record recorded deep in the forest primeval. Or stumbling upon some ancient burial ground and discovering traces of some long gone krautrock jam, which over time had somehow sunk deep into the earth, or floated off into the sky, leaving nothing but memories, a handful of bones, sonic echoes of its former self. Sounds like ghosts, drifting like spirits through the leaves of the trees, floating weightless above the wet leaves and rich soil. Warm and fuzzy, dreamy and blissed out, so completely lovely and quite possibly our new favorite record to drift off to...
Includes three bonus tracks recorded at the same time as the original lp, but unreleased until now, as well as a booklet of liner notes detailing the lives of both Ariel Kalma and Richard Tinti, as well as the genesis of Osmose.
If you regularly peruse our New Arrivals list (of course you do!) then you're probably aware that we sometimes review an album the week it's released, or sometimes the week after, or even the week before, or a few months later, or even a whole year later. This is due to a lot of random factors, and also some constant ones -- like the number of hours in the day! All this by way of saying, this excellent new album (the sixth) from Germany's always dependable Kammerflimmer Kollektief came out a month or two back, and it's about time we got it up on our website!
A slowly unfolding, gloriously pretty affair, dense with buzz and shimmer, a mix of acoustic strings and electronic embellishment, gentle rhythms and lovely ambience. Never can tell just what to call 'em: post-rock, jazz, electronica, definitely a heavenly hybrid of all those things. Heck we could just call it krautrock couldn't we? Definitely falls into that tradition. Their moody mood this time around is even more calm and crackly and contemplative than we recall in the past, replete with harmonium and double bass drones... percussion and piano intertwining... and the abstract but alluring vocals of Heike Aumuller. As we like to say (feeling very self-reflective at the moment): quite nice!
Jonathan Kane was a founding member and drummer of the Swans, as well as a collaborator with La Monte Young and Rhys Chatham. This his new solo record is sort of similar to the idea of Young's Forever Bad Blues Band, an intense and focused foot tappin' blissed out blues sizzler. Repetitious guitar riffs and pulsating percussion that draws you in and leaves you in a frenzy. You can practically hear the sweat dripping off of Kane's body. But don't be expecting any Swans pummel or Teutonic crush, this is pretty much basic blues rock through and through, but of course played with an intense and fierce focus. Includes a Glen Branca cover, "Guitar Trio". And as always, there's totally beautiful packaging from the folks at Table Of The Elements.
Something new on VHF! Some lovely, droning, minimal sounds as you might expect from that quality label. Kang Tae Hwan is an circular-breathing alto saxophone player from Korea whom we've never heard of before -- perhaps because this is his first ever US release. Seems like an example of VHF branching out from their standard roster, except that Hwan's includes Makoto Kawabata of Acid Mothers Temple, who has previously appeared on VHF in collaboration with Richard Youngs. Here Kawabata plays both the Indian sarangi, and guitar. The trio is rounded out by Ichiraku Yoshimusu (also a member of Acid Mothers Temple, as well as Otomo Yoshihide's ISO, etc.) on bowed percussion and drumkit. So, I guess an *Acid Mothers Temple alert* *Acid Mothers Temple alert* *Acid Mothers Temple alert* is in order! That aside, this is a nice album in its own right, consisting of one slow-building, exquisite 50 minute track for your late-night enjoyment. Not everyone loves saxophone, but this isn't any sort of typical jazz outing that's for sure. Packaged outside the VHF-norm in a brown, gold-embossed cardboard folio.
You know avant-violinist Eyvind Kang from his several discs for John Zorn's Tzadik label, and/or his work with the likes of Ikue Mori, Bill Frisell, Dying Ground, Joe McPhee, Secret Chiefs 3, and the Sun City Girls, right? Indeed, you probably recall that Kang's extended violin improvisation was a highlight of the SCG's "300,003 Crossdressers From Beyond The Rig Veda", one of their best albums. Well here's more of Kang's violin, backed by a group called the 'Neti-Neti Band' who may or may not be those selfsame Sun City Girls. Four tracks, over an hour of quiet, beautifully droning, melodic violin-based instrumental soundscapes. A bit King Crimson-ish, we'd say. Quite nice. Track three, "Highlands", gets a bit noisier than what came before, but is still quite pretty. Sure does sound like the Sun City Girls, in a trance-y mode.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Seattle avant-violin etcetera wunderkind's second solo record, following his 7 NADES on Zorn's Tzadik label...If you've heard that, or enjoyed his collaborations with the Sun City Girls, now there's this to absorb.
Spooky 20th century classical stuff here from composer Kang. Performed by an Italian choral ensemble, singing Latin texts (by Giordano Bruno, "Marbod of Rennes"), with help from Mike Patton (voice), Jessika Kenney (voice), and a whole bunch of Italian musicians on guitars, sitar, trumpets, tuba, trombone.
Violinist, improviser, experimental composer Eyvind Kang (best known for his appearances with the Sun City Girls as well as a host of other collaborations with such musicians as Ikue Mori, Marc Ribot, Bill Frisell, and others) returns with another of his fascinating, weird, and impressive solo albums. With a large cast of additional musicians, Kang creates an epic soundscape here.
The first 5 tracks comprising "The Story of Iceland" are a pastoral mixture of weeping violin, arpeggiated marimbas, and earnest tubas. The 6th track is ten minutes of tortured David Bowie-style vocals with layer upon layer of chanting female harmonies -- lovely. And the album ends with a short gamelan song. Very shcizophrenic, nice album. Recommended.
Everyone's favorite avant-violinist Eyvind Kang (who you'll find fiddlin' on records with the Sun City Girls, Secret Chiefs 3, John Zorn and Blonde Redhead) has released a new "solo" album. But there's more here than just his violin: performed live at the Angelica Festival in Italy, 2000, Virginal Coordinates features Kang joined by a 22-member orchestra including Ipecac boss Mike Patton on vocals and electronics. But this is a much more delicate sounding record than the size of that ensemble (or the presence of Patton) might lead you to think. Pleasantly whooshy, droney, mild and melodic, some of this is in a soundtracky, neo-classical mold, other parts more 'exotic' in character, like a mellow, gauzey gamelan. Compared to a lot of other, more wigged-out stuff that's been released on Ipecac, this sounds like some "serious" music, academic almost. But quite nice.
Latest from violinist / composer Eyvind Kang, released on the Ideologic Organ label, run by Stephen O'Malley of SUNNO))), three lengthy pieces performed by a strangely eclectic ensemble featuring a mix of young upstarts and minimal music legends. The instrumentation is equally eclectic: trombone, trumpet, violin, oboe, viola, voice, glass (!), piano, electric piano, modified cello and pedal steel guitar. The players include Kang of course, along with Stewart Dempster, vocalist, Jessika Kenney, Steve Moore from Zombi and a handful of others.
The pieces here while distinct and separate, seem to form one single epic piece, austere and mesmerizing, minimal and droney, a series of haunting high end drones drift and undulate over minimal percussion, layered and lush, the moaning low end blurred into the keening high end, the result thick swells of sound that ebb and flow, leaving plenty of space, hushed and nearly static one second dense and intense the next, the vibe definitely cinematic, with the second 'movement' introducing more traditional melody, acting as a sort of closing coda for the side, pulling the drones apart into distinctive melodies before finally fading out.
The sidelong third 'movement' might be our favorite bit, more of a buzzing raga, laced with glistening guitar harmonics, all the scrapes and screeches of the strings smoothed into long layered tones, all driven by a subtly pulsing rhythmic component, that fades gradually as the piece continues, the whole thing becoming more and more abstract until the parts seem to dissipate leaving just emptiness. So nice.
And as with all Ideologic Organ releases, beautifully packaged in an O'Malley designed jacket, printed in super subtle, yet striking reflective ink.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Some of you are probably familiar with Kapotte Muziek (which translates roughly to 'broken music') a recording project of Dutch sound artist Frans De Waard, who also runs the Korm Plastics and Bake Records record labels. Kapotte Muziek has recorded, released or contributed to hundreds and hundreds of records, so it makes sense that an odds and ends collection would end up sprawling over the length of FOUR cd-r's. De Waard has explored all facets of sound, from minimal electronics to somber drones but KM would have to be qualified as 'noise music' wethinks. Not noise like Merzbow, although their are moments, but more like simple forms of noise, sculpted into new shapes, and alien sounds. White noise, pink noise, static, distortion, electrical currents, all deftly maneuvered and recontextualized. Each disc is packed to the gills with lost recordings, alternate versions, sound experiments, ambience, harsh noise and everything in between. Slow soundscapes of staticky hiss that ebbs and flows like some strange electronic sea, drones constructed from what sounds like wind and crickets and a million marbles rolling down metal stairs, siren like sinewaves twisted and pitched into clicks and bumps and squealing swoops, shimmering lowercase worlds of rumbles and clicks, creepy and subterranean, lunar landscapes of space-y woosh and robotic bleeps and bloops, and that's just part on one disc. This is definitely not easy listening. This is difficult listening, but as we know, that can often be the most rewarding.
Includes extensive liner notes, with in depth text about the genesis and execution of each and every track.
Packaged in separate sleeves and held together by a Japanese style obi.
If you remember the Pan-Thy-Monium disc we raved about years ago, then you'll have some clue about what Karaboudjan sounds like, and how weird and amazing it is, as it's basically Pan-Thy-Monium mastermind (and celebrated Swedish metal
The sound of science! This is not the fictionalized abstraction of synthesized tone and pulse that come across as sci-fi dramas in the works of folks like Oneohtrix Point Never or Klaus Schulze, instead field recordist Ernst Karel has ventured into the various laboratories at Harvard to capture the environmental sounds found within! To astrophysicists, chemists, and cognitive science researchers these are the quotidian noises of work; but beyond the walls of any given science institution, these clanks, hums, hisses, and groans can take on any number of allusions. Such a strategy is not uncommon, as John Duncan had the opportunity to capture the sounds of the Stanford Linear Accelerator for his potent powerdrone masterpiece The Crackling, and Francisco Lopez brought focused sensibility to his Machines. Karel's approach to his source material seems to be one of cautious awe and political neutrality. On the first track on Heard Laboratories, Karel captures the metronomic clicks from an organometallic chemistry process that results in atomic layer deposition. There is a rather clinical definition of what this process is, but no explanation as to what this could be used for or why. The various clicks emerge from a growing vortex of precision tuned motors and pressurized hiss, broken on one occasion by an incoming telephone call. Elsewhere, the sounds of sterlizers and centrifuges take on a particularly ominous set of rasped bursts of noise that bear a bone-chilling resemblance to a dental drill. Marathon Man, perhaps? The tiny bird-like squeaks from the tamarins being used for cognitive research infiltrates Karel's sound field, bracketed by massive vibrations from cooling systems used to protect much of the equipment. The clinical hiss of a canister of liquid nitrogen resonates with the cycling pulse of a lazer that it was intended to cool takes on an almost musical quality of chorale-like minimalism touched with slow crawling rhythmic swells. Karel offers a pretty amazing set of field recordings here, certainly recommended for anyone interested in the aforementioned John Duncan, Francisco Lopez, M. Behrens, Tarab, Eric La Casa, etc.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
