10 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Although has a lengthy career, Brooklyn's Bob Bellerue has sat comfortably in the fringes of a fragmented noise and experimental scene. His newest release, All In, is a nicely limited tape edition that captures two distinctly different performances, one from 2011 and the other from 2014, which features him emphasizing some notably different styles from his body of work, although the final product makes for an entirely cohesive release that feels as much as a conceptual album as it would a set of two live performances three years apart.

Anarchymoon

The first half of this tape, "Redglaer @ Port D’Or 02/19/11" is the more overtly noise oriented of the two performances.Right from the opening moments he makes this clear:an abstract mechanical clatter is soon shaped into a violent, distorted buzz that at least superficially sounds like the work of an entire tabletop of guitar pedals.Throughout this, Bellerue maintains the noise standard of overdriven crunchy bass frequencies and shrill, barely regulated feedback even as he changes things up.

While it is unrelenting, he clearly has some control over this seemingly chaotic mass of sound, shifting frequencies and densities the whole time keeping things fresh and dynamic throughout.Heavy white noise washes precede sputtering, dying airplane engines and, as the piece goes on, he seems to struggle as to if he cannot decide if he prefers to emphasize the pummeling low end scrape or the shrill, brittle static.By the end the latter seems to win out, with him concluding the piece (and performance) via piercing feedback and painful, grinding power saws.

On the other half of the tape, "Blessed Thistle @ Babycastles 07/05/14" is a different Bellerue, at least at first.The heavy noise is more of a seasoning than a main course, as the first few minutes are dedicated to an idiosyncratic vibraphone like rhythmic passage that extends for a while, demonstrating more calm and restraint than the other half.There is a greater sense of peace at this point, but it is obvious that the harsher stuff is looming just beneath the surface.

Of course, this soon explodes outward, and the full on ripping, pulsating distortion and noise explodes to the surface.Again, his performance is exceptionally dynamic, blending the sustained noise outbursts together and cutting them up into aggressive, harsh stammering patterns.As it goes on, he adds more and more elements, like what sounds like digitally mangled voices, immense warning sirens, and explosive blasts to a mix that becomes denser and heavier until collapsing under its own weight and ending the piece with a jarring abruptness.

All In captures two different sides of Bob Bellerue:the side that has a strong focus on complex sound art structures, and the side that relishes the result of cranking a gain knob up as high as it goes and appreciating the ugliness that results.I think that, given this is a pair of live performances, the latter half of his style ends up being the dominant one, but that is not to say it is not a well rounded release.Instead these two different disciplines meld together nicely and, with his ability to keep things dynamic and moving, pushes it beyond being just another noise cassette.

samples:

• Redglaer
• Blessed Thistle (Excerpt One)
• Blessed Thistle (Excerpt Two)

 

10 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Recently given an much-needed reissue by Ecstatic, Circular Forms (2015) is Abul Mogard’s lone proper full-length album amidst a slow trickle of cassettes, splits, and compilation appearances. When I first heard it, I was admittedly a bit disappointed as it felt considerably less unique and revelatory than the earlier, more industrial-influenced pieces collected on Works. I have since warmed to it quite a bit, however, as "The Half-Light of Dawn" is an achingly beautiful masterpiece of simmering and haunted-sounding post-apocalyptic drone. Mogard also does a stellar job at channeling the cosmic dread of prime Tangerine Dream at one point. The rest of the album is quite enjoyable as well, but it sometimes has a bit of an uneven and transitional feel that reveals Mogard's influences and occupies more well-established aesthetic terrain than some of his iconoclastic earlier releases.

Ecstatic

The album opens in somber and understated fashion with "Slate-Colored Storm," which is essentially just a murky and submerged-sounding melodic loop that languorously unfolds beneath a series of slow-motion washes of bleak synth chords.Naturally, that elegant simplicity suits the piece quite well, establishing a glacial momentum and darkly soulful foundation for Mogard's peripheral activities.In that regard, he proves to be an absolute sorcerer at controlling tension and ingeniously transforming textures, effectively erasing all trace of himself to create a vivid, powerful, and organically unfolding scene."Slate-Colored Storm" feels like time has slowed to an absolute crawl and a mournful and decayed tape loop is obsessively playing and re-playing the same broken melody as geysers of scorching lava erupt from the earth around it.There is nothing that feels like a man playing a synthesizer in that tableau at all, as everything feels ruined, corroded, decayed, and unreal in a profound way, as if the scene is playing out as a vision of the future that occurs long after Mogard has been reduced to dust.The following "Bound Universe," on the other hand, feels like a sincere homage to Tangerine Dream at their heaviest and most inhumanly futuristic, unfolding as a churning and dense synth juggernaut that surges relentlessly forward amidst a gnarled storm of rumbling drones and sizzling noise.Both pieces are legitimately wonderful.

The following "Half Light at Dawn" is the album's achingly gorgeous heart though, resembling a lush elegy for humanity composed by a heartbroken robot. I am truly awe-struck by the intensity of emotion that Mogard is able to wring out of circuits and wires, as "Dawn" is a moaning, whimpering, and undulating feast of bleary melodies and deep, sizzling washes of chords amidst an otherworldly haze of ghostly afterimages and flickering spectres.It is absolutely pitch-perfect in every way, slowly and wearily accumulating immense power through slow-burning repetition before quietly disappearing once more into silence.I would be hard-pressed to imagine anything that could satisfyingly follow such a sublime and crushingly beautiful piece, but Mogard gamely tries by closing the album with the epic "House on the River" (at nearly 17-minutes, it is roughly as long as everything that came before it combined).Lamentably, it is my least favorite piece on the album, yet Mogard is still operating on quite a high plane–even his less-inspired work offers some understated and singular delights.For the most part though, "House on the River" is merely a decent bit of slow-moving synth drone, as a succession of billowing chords steadily flows forward with minimal variation or evolution.Buried in the depths, however, lies a single nagging note that keeps endlessly (if faintly) pulsing beneath it all, imbuing an otherwise straightforward piece with the sense that it is merely a veil concealing something more elemental and mysterious.Sadly, that veil never lifts, but it is significant that even Mogard's rare forays into well-traveled territory hint at being something far more than that.

It would certainly be reasonable to describe Circular Forms as Mogard's ambient album, but it represents more of a shift and expansion in focus than a radical transformation.This vein has always run through Mogard's work, so the most significant advance was merely that he decided to release an entire album devoted to his more slow-moving and meditative side.At this stage in his career, however, Mogard's meditative side was still quite an eerily bleak and haunting place to be, evoking the Zen-like calm of the last human gazing sadly at a scorched and ravaged landscape (he has brightened his tone considerably since).There is a lonely beauty mingled with deep sadness here, yet the best moments of Circular Forms burrow deep enough to achieve something of a transcendent rapture.That latter part is crucial, as Mogard's work is not oppressively sad at all–the path to heaven just happens to be unexpectedly dark one.

10 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

For some reason, this long-running project from English guitarist Andy Cartwright has stayed largely under my radar until now, despite my occasional brushes with his work through various blogs and his splits with Dean McPhee and Loscil. This latest release, Seabuckthorn's ninth, is deeply influenced by Cartwright's rustic and mountainous new surroundings in the Southern Alps, yet his work has always had an earthy, widescreen grandeur. As I am only casually familiar with the rest of the Seabuckthorn oeuvre, I cannot confidently state that Cartwright's new environment or recent focus on textural experimentation have radically transformed his work, but A House With Too Much Fire definitely feels like an especially strong showing. Much like the aforementioned McPhee, Cartwright has carved out a sublime and alternately haunting and gorgeous niche all his own, far transcending my expectations of what a lone guitarist can achieve (though Cartwright certainly embraces a much more expansive palette than his peers).

Bookmaker/La Cordillère

I am not quite sure what I expected from this album, but I am absolutely certain that whatever vague expectations I had were either transcended or outright wrong.This is quite a curious and fascinating album to try to wrap my head around, as Cartwright seems to be equal parts visionary and chameleon.It is easy to see how Seabuckthorn acquired such a devoted cult following over the years though, as Cartwright's inspiration burns quite brightly during the album's best moments, occasionally calling to mind the timeless, elemental power of prime Richard Skelton.More often, however, Cartwright feels like a kindred spirit to iconoclastic American composer and Lost Tribe label mate William Ryan Fritch, as the two artists channel very similar strains of melancholy and cinematic Americana (though Fritch is considerably more eclectic these days).Along with Aaron Martin and Western Skies Motel, the two seem like the incipient vanguard of an unnamed movement that I will tentatively dub The Haunted West which inventively blurs the lines between folk, modern composition, and atmospheric post-rock a la Mogwai and Explosions In The Sky.The finest example of that vein on A House With Too Much Fire is probably "It Was Aglow," which unfolds as a mournful cascade of banjo arpeggios that casts off a spark-like spray of spectral, delay-heavy ripples."What The Shepherds Call Ghosts" is similarly dazzling, as Cartwright unleashes a roiling web of rapidly picked arpeggios as a gently plucked melody winds its way through a rattling and moaning gauntlet of tormented strings.If the whole album had expanded that aesthetic into a focused vision, A House With Too Much Fire would likely be a stone-cold masterpiece.The rest of the album occasionally does delve further into that theme beautifully (the title piece, "Sent in by the Cold," etc.), yet Cartwright's mercurial muse led him in some other interesting directions as well, resulting in a bit more of a complicated and shifting affair.

In some cases, Cartwright's divergence from the expected path pays off beautifully, as the slowly churning string elegy of "Somewhat Like Vision" burrows even deeper into the past to evoke a deep, primeval sadness that predates anything resembling America.Elsewhere, "Disentangled" is a foray into languorous and lyrical Eastern-tinged desert blues."Figure Afar" is yet another departure of sorts, as Cartwright sets aside his guitar and banjo for a churning reverie of mournful bowed strings.Unfortunately, there is also one perplexing misstep that continues to mystify me: "Inner."It is not necessarily a bad piece, though it admittedly errs on the side of meandering and improvisatory-sounding.The more significant issue is the strange decision to include a gently burbling and plodding synth backdrop, which transforms an otherwise unmemorable interlude into something that breaks the album's timeless and hallucinatory spell and unceremoniously drops me back in the present.Thankfully, Cartwright's rare dubious decisions are completely eclipsed by everything that he does exactly right, as my appreciation for House deepens with each fresh listen.In particular, I am struck the sheer craftsmanship and intuitive genius for texture and dynamics displayed on pieces like "Somewhat Like Vision," as Cartwright has the nuance and lightness of touch to weave a dreamlike state, yet also grasps exactly when to allow a crucial note to viscerally carve through the mist.He also brings a deep soul and quiet intensity to his vision, as these pieces do not just evoke desolate prairies and forgotten towns like a soundtrack composer might–Cartwright instead conjures imagined places that feel pregnant with enough mystery and hidden meaning to linger in my mind long after the album has ended.

A House With Too Much Fire is quietly beguiling in deeper, more abstract ways as well.For example, Cartwright has reached a Zen-like plane of casual virtuosity in which the desire to compose something beautiful supplants any ego-driven need to showcase his playing (a feat that is all too rare among technically proficient musicians).When a piece calls for it, Cartwright is certainly game to unleash a dazzling and intricate flurry of notes, but he is just as content to craft a slow-moving and impressionistic scene from ghostly smears of harmonics, feedback, and string drones ("Blackout").On a larger scale, I am also quite impressed with Cartwright's vision in general, as he deftly avoids crossing the blurry line that would make House feel like at all like a soundtrack (though "Submerged Past" errs on that side).For the most part, however, A House With Too Much Fire never feels like an imagined accompaniment to a film in Cartwright's mind.Rather, it feels like it is that film.The difference is subtle, I suppose, but it has massive implications when it comes to how much I love an album and I mostly love this one.It is not quite a perfect whole, yet the highlights are legitimately amazing: pieces like "It was Aglow" and "Somewhat Like Vision" masterfully weave vividly realized worlds that swirl with beauty, mystery, and ineffable sadness.

 

09 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Deluxe edition of Ian William Craig's landmark debut album A Turn of Breath in its final form. Includes an additional LP of unpublished material.

• Final Edition of 1000 pressed on black wax
• Gatefold jacket with new artwork by Ian William Craig
• Additional LP that holds the Short of Breath EP (a limited CDr included with first copies of ATOB in 2014), and the unreleased Fresh Breath collection.

"As if some lovelorn romantic troubadour had been summoned forth from the recording of séances on old shellac 78s" – MOJO

"A classically trained opera singer who buries his voice in desiccated, decaying loops" – ROLLING STONE

"a powerfully blurry canvas of hymn, chant and drone, through multi-tracking, echo, looping,
abrasions and erasures." – NEW YORK TIMES

"This is a truly brilliant album – inhale it now." – THE GUARDIAN

"Ian William Craig pulled breath from night and made a voice." – TINY MIX TAPES

More information can be found here.

09 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Norman Westberg is perhaps best recognised for his truly individual approach to guitar with the band SWANS. His playing with SWANS has influenced a generation of musicians across genres. His particular approaches to that instrument, in creating both harmony and brute force, have challenged and ultimately informed a great many players.

His new solo record, After Vacation, is his first full length to come in the wake of the final SWANS outing in its current configuration. More importantly it is also the first record to see Westberg move beyond a more performative mode of single take composition.

After Vacation sees Westberg significantly expand his sonic palette. He opens up the tonal and harmonic possibilities of his instrument in unexpected and profoundly beautiful ways. His guitar, as singular source, becomes transformed through a web of outboard processes. He transforms vibrating strings completely, taking singular gesture and reshapes it through webs of delay, reverb and other treatments.

Moreover he finds a new sense of space and dimension with these recordings. After Vacation has a decidedly more topographic sense. It charts out the dark contours of places unseen but imagined. It traverses a divergent range of places in search of a ever opening compositional approach.

The results are in excess of anything Westberg has created previously. His melodic capacities come to the fore; matching his distinctly personal approach to the textural qualities of his instrument.

More information can be found here.

03 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Not long after bemoaning the lack of full-length releases from Matt Weston (following a string of excellent 7"s) he quickly announced This Is Your Rosemont Horizon, a full length LP of two side-long compositions. Following the patterns set forth in his singles, both are ever changing pieces rich with electronics, guitar, and of course unconventional percussion that shift and change with every minute that goes by, never stagnating or even sitting still, resulting in a fascinating suite of complex electro-acoustic composition and exploration.

7272music

Even in the more limited single format, Weston’s pieces always shifted and evolved often drastically, even within the limited duration of the format.On here, with more time to work with this variability is even more pronounced.Matt's jerky glitch electronics that open "Special Apparatus for Coercion" lead the proceedings with a stammer; an off-kilter opening that sets a woozy mood for what follows.He punctuates the electronics with some heavy cavernous pulsations before allowing the remaining layers fully come into focus.Shrill scrapes are cast out above a layer of dramatic, tympani-like drumming, creating a sense of high drama and tension.

Of course Weston is quick to switch things up, and soon he devolves the piece into a swarm of pitch-bent tones and roughly strummed guitar.This eventually transitions into a strange paring of tense, bowed strings and deep bass, two very different sounds that work perfectly together.Before finally concluding the piece he throws in some cheap, brittle electronics run through odd processing, cut-up voices, clattering bells, and eventually some big guitar riffs before dropping everything with an abrupt conclusion.

For the other side of the record, Weston introduces "A Simple Machine Without a Machine" with shrill scraping sounds which leap out front. He eventually melds with uncomfortable guttural noises and sustained tonal drones, wonderfully juxtaposing layers of jerky, cut-up passages with elongated and sustained drones to excellent effect.Unspecific processed sounds are cast in an out and, despite its seemingly chaotic nature, the overall feel is that Weston allows a bit more breathing room here compared to the other side, although the tension is still palpable.

Eventually he develops a junky sense of rhythm here, not unlike some of Merzbow's earliest works as the piece drifts off further and further into chaos.Eventually it becomes a pastiche of all sorts of sounds, vacillating between bent fragments of melody and free jazz freak-outs that mesh together wonderfully.Towards the end, the piece trails off to its inevitable conclusion, closing on an outburst of malfunctioning electronics and complex metallic drone.

Compared to his recent single Searchlight Swings, This is Your Rosemont Horizon is a bit darker, a bit heavier, but no less amazing.It is distinctly the work of Matt Weston, but perhaps it is the time or setting, but there is a greater sense of desolation it would seem.However, he plays off this tension extremely well, weaving together idiosyncratic electronics and unconventional percussion like no other composer or performer does.It may not be as quirky as some of his other material, but the gravitas adds an additional asset to an already exceptional record.

samples:

• Special Apparatus for Coercion (Excerpt 1)
• Special Apparatus for Coercion (Excerpt 2)
• A Simple Machine Without a Machine

 

03 June 2018

Creaig Dunton

Albums and Singles

This week Brainwashed and SIGE Records are proud to premiere "Reconciliation," (MP3 download here), a song from the upcoming 2xLP by Black Spirituals entitled Black Access/Black Axes.

The pairing of Zachary James Watkins (guitar and electronics) and Marshall Trammell (percussion) have created another masterpiece, and their final collaboration in this arrangement. Reclaiming the core fundamentals of jazz and rock and roll, but completely recontextualizing them in a distinctly modern framework, Black Spirituals are an entirely unique entity in the world of experimental music. While Black Access/Black Axes is a multifaceted and varied album, "Reconciliation" is an excellent summation: Watkins generates a constantly building squall of noise and distortion, but never lets his guitar be lost in the mix, as Trammell deliberately enters the frame, transitioning from subtle cymbal accents to sharp, cracking snares that pierce powerfully through the psychedelic haze. To call the dynamic intense would be a serious understatement, culminating in a brilliantly heavy, ecstatic crescendo that is nothing short of amazing. Black Access/Black Axes is presented in a deluxe 2xLP gatefold record, limited to 300 copies, and will be released July 6, 2018 via SIGE.

03 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

The final installment of Carsten Nicolai's "Uni" trilogy is a curious addition to the Alva Noto's historically conceptual-minded and experimental discography, as it is essentially a straight techno album. Given that this comparatively dancefloor-oriented series was initially inspired by a trip to Tokyo nightclub Unit, however, I suppose a nakedly beat-driven and somewhat straight-forward album like Unieqav makes some perverse sense (especially as a culminating statement). There is a bit more to Unieqav than mere music though, as the album is part of a larger, more ambitious multimedia work, as Nicolai reportedly floored festival audiences with an intense video onslaught synced to his hyper-precise rhythmic salvos. As a result, Unieqav feels like a somewhat minor release compared to Nicolai's other work when decontextualized from its intended high-volume/sensory overload presentation, but his unparalleled exactitude and clarity still make for a fine minimal techno album.

Noton

One aspect of Carsten Nicolai's Alva Noto project that I have always appreciated is that each new album is absolutely certain to feature a very clear and coherent vision that has been executed masterfully.Obviously, perfectionism has its downsides too, but that approach lends itself quite nicely to crystalline and cerebral sound art.At worst, Nicolai's vision occasionally errs a bit too much on the side of coldly mathematical to resonate deeply with me, yet his work is always intriguing and distinctive and it is never plagued by half-baked ideas, sloppy craftsmanship, or fits of self-indulgence.Nicolai is the kind of guy that I would probably trust to design a spaceship or expect to pioneer a radical new style of architecture.That is not something I would say of many other artists.On Unieqav, that clear and coherent vision is generally one of futuristic-sounding techno stripped down to just insistently repeating kick drum patterns and a host of machine-like clicks, hums, and pops.

The opening "Uni Sub" is a perfectly representative statement of intent, combining a somewhat lurching rhythm with a one-note bass line, subtle mechanical sounds, and a "hook" of gurgling and sizzling noise.There are also some understated synth chords that lurk and undulate in the background, but the most compelling parts of the piece are definitely the textures.It sounds a lot like Nicolai contact mic’d his coffee pot, processed the sounds until they were supernaturally crisp and clear, and then presented them in wonderfully magnified form.The underlying "song" is cool too, but it is essentially just a vehicle to stealthily deliver that textural sorcery, providing the necessary pulse and momentum to keep everything vibrant and purposeful.For better or worse, the remaining 11 songs are all essentially variations on that same template, with the more successful ones being those that offer the more ingenious or striking twists.

Much like drone music, minimal techno can often be formulaic and simple to a self-parodying degree, but artists who have the lightness of touch, attention to detail, and genius for subtle dynamic shifts necessary for great minimal techno are a truly rare breed indeed.Nicolai earns his place in that exclusive brotherhood here, as Unieqav is a feast of sharply realized textures and masterfully manipulated rhythms, as Nicolai deftly adds and subtracts cymbals and embellishes his grooves with all manner of squelches, throbs, crackles, scrapes, and sundry other machine-like flourishes.As a result, Unieqav improbably works as both a cutting-edge dance album and a headphone experience that rewards deep-listening.That said, I do especially enjoy the occasional moments where Nicolai eases up on some of his rigorous self-constraints and expands his palette with splashes of harmony or melody.

One such piece is the eerily beautiful "Uni Mia," as Nicolai embellishes his pummeling thump with vibrant splashes of laser-like sounds as warm synth clouds fitfully drift through the piece like passing clouds."Uni Blue" is another more expansive piece, boasting an actual chord progression, gnarled distortion, and quasi-melodic sonar-like pings.To some degree it feels a bit heavy-handed and bombastic in the context of such a uniformly stark album, but that seems to be by design, as the simmering and squelching beat sounds amazing when all the synths fall away.That is quite a neat trick, as having that veil pulled away like that forced my complete focus onto Nicolai's dazzling rhythm (it is very easy to become numb to the more inspired bits of an uncompromisingly beat-driven album unless they are ingeniously framed).Elsewhere, the closing "Uni Chord" is another highlight, as dreamily melancholy synth drones unfold over a wonderfully twitching, shivering, and stuttering beat.

As a long-time Alva Noto fan, it is quite hard to separate my opinion of Unieqav from my deeply entrenched personal expectations, as it is definitely a bit of an outlier.It is too one-dimensional and stripped-down to feel like a great Alva Noto album, yet the complex and inventive beats make this an excellent album by minimal techno standards: Unieqav easily holds its own when stacked up against classic Chain Reaction or Mille Plateaux fare and I love that stuff.I suppose I just have a nagging regret that Nicolai did not take this opportunity to break new ground by more aggressively synthesizing his love of techno with his genius for experimentalism and unconventional sounds.That imaginary album would have been a bit more compelling that this relatively straight homage, but Unieqav is nevertheless a stellar homage, succeeding as both a dance album and a master class in dynamics and sound design.

• Uni Sub
• Uni Mia
• Uni Blue

 

03 June 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Polish label Zoharum take a very deep dive into Justin Wright’s exquisite solo guitar psychedelia with this sprawling 2xCD collection of various limited Expo '70 releases. For the most part, these extended pieces have a very drone-based and cosmic bent, but the two 2009 collaborations with Umberto's Matt Hill are legitimately transcendent and entrancing epics of slow-burning space-rock nirvana. Giving those two pieces a well-deserved second life is unquestionably Mother Universe's raison d'être, so the remaining pieces are more for devout fans and completists (though they are also quite good in their own right). The various physical formats all compensate for potential Expo '70 overload in their own ways, however, making it very easy to alternate between experiencing Mother Universe as a concise distillation of some of Wright's finest work or as an immersive and extended lysergic plunge.

Zoharum

Every couple of years, I go through a phase in which I quixotically make yet another concerted (and doomed) effort to like Hawkwind.I generally love the idea of Hawkwind, but I suspect their actual music will always be too heavy-handed and indulgent to fully connect with me: the gulf between what I want them to sound like and what they actually sound like is just too wide.The reason that I bring that up is that Wright has uncannily managed to replicate the imaginary Hawkwind that exists only in my mind with the 22-minute title piece that opens this album (it originally appeared as a CDr on Mother Tongue). Of course, Matt Hill deserves a lot of the credit for that success as well, as his wonderfully rolling and propulsive bass line provides the perfect foundation for Wright to gradually build up a gorgeously rippling and elegant swirl of shimmering arpeggios and understated soloing that dissolves into a lingering vapor trail.Structurally, the piece is essentially just an extended vamp, but "Mother Universe" easily transcends any limitations that may suggest, organically ebbing and flowing through rhythmic shifts and occasionally sounding like it is on verge of being sucked into a greedily whooshing black hole.The following "Ostara," on the other hand, feels like it was sucked into that black hole and spat out the other end as a pulsing and splintered ghost of its former self.In lesser hands, "Ostara" would probably linger forever in that state of hallucinatory deep-space suspended animation, but here it gradually evolves beyond mere ambience into a queasily roiling fantasia of cosmic dread worthy of Andrei Tarkovsky.While that is quite a wonderfully immersive illusion, Wright still has one last trick up his sleeve, as the final moments of "Ostara" sneakily re-cohere into something approaching a song…before dissolving again into an eerie coda that sounds like a broken reel-to-reel machine endlessly repeating the same tape snippet at the wrong speed.

The remaining four songs are taken from the Woolgatherer Visions and Mechanical Elements tapes on Norway's Gold Soundz label and date from roughly the same period.They are either relegated to a second disk or a supplementary download, depending on physical format, which I suppose makes them bonus tracks to some degree."Tropical Trip Through Acid Clouds" initially sounds like fairly standard Expo '70 fare, unfolding as a delay-heavy riff beneath a trippy haze of looping and blurred improvisation, but then it unexpectedly gives way to a pulsing and futuristic-sounding soundscape evokes the flickering corridors of a damaged and abandoned space ship.That eventually becomes the backdrop for some more soloing, which illustrates the key difference between these four pieces and the previous two: these feel like good ideas in raw form that have not yet been edited to perfection.Sometimes that more spontaneous approach still works wonderfully though.The following "Hexed By A Devil in the Cemetery," for example,is a darkly throbbing drone piece that Wright beautifully embellishes with an unsettling arsenal of echoing, spectral scrapes and uneasily quavering synth coloration. Elsewhere, "You and Your Dreamcatcher Should Take a Hike" is a foray into buzzing and meditative minimalist synth drone, while "Neither Here Nor There (A Study)" takes a similar theme and uses it as the backdrop for a dreamily meandering flow of looping, intertwined guitar patterns.Of the four, "Hexed," "Dreamcatcher," and "Neither Here Nor There" all stand out as understated gems, with the latter two evoking sublime, trancelike states through languorously shifting waveforms or gently buzzing and swaying clouds of echoing accumulated loops.

This is exactly the kind of compilation that I dearly wish there were more of in the world, as some artists are just far too prolific for me to be able to keep up with the volume of their output (Wright, Kevin Drumm, Jim O'Rourke, etc.).Consequently, it is quite nice to have record labels around who are keen to sift through it all and illuminate great work that might have otherwise fallen into obscurity.At best, I can keep up with Wright's major LPs, so I definitely would have missed all of the comparatively minor and considerably more limited releases assembled here ("Ostara" is from a CDr on Small Doses, incidentally).Obviously, some of these six pieces are better than others, but they cumulatively provide a condensed overview of quite a year-long hot streak that most fans either only got a small taste of or missed altogether.As such, Mother Universe makes a fine and varied entry point into Wright's work.It is a body of work well worth getting acquainted with too, as Justin Wright at his best is kind of a Zen master of all things psychedelic, absorbing a wide spectrum of Eastern drone, krautrock, and heavy psych influences and distilling them into a wonderfully unhurried and understated psychotropic reverie.Mother Universe provides a strong argument that the golden age of bands like Popul Vuh and Ash Ra Tempel never fully ended–it just took a bit of a nap before unexpectedly reawakening in Missouri.

31 May 2018

Administrator

Albums and Singles

You can see what you want to see when you stare in to the world of The Myrrors, and to some degree, you can also hear what you want to hear on their expansive, extraordinary new album, Borderlands – an album that nominally references the collective boundaries we draw, all the while offering a soundtrack for setting forth strategies that either ignore or erase our self-made barriers.

If you see The Myrrors as the dust-caked disciples of a specific strain of desert-drone mysticism, there's little on Borderlands, their fourth full-length Myrrors album released in as many years, to dissuade you from that vision. Instead, there's only confirmation—an intoxicating combination of outlook and output that clarifies and crystallizes the band's many sonic strengths throughout the album’s fantastically unfolding forty-plus minutes.

Often ominous in its ambience, Borderlands begins with an appropriately Albert Ayler-ish blast of "Awakening," which serves as a short, slumber-shattering introduction to "The Blood That Runs the Border." Here, The Myrrors sound somewhat haunted and heartbroken, while nevertheless driven and determined. It's a crestfallen crusade of sanguinary sound that spreads across the album as a whole, an impression powered in no small part by the echoes of dervishes danced by Sufi mystics in centuries-old efforts to open other borders, as it were. This dynamic dance of conflicting emotions finds its contours on tracks like the meditative "Biznagas" and the propulsive "Formaciones Rojas," which, for all of their otherworldly-ness, wouldn’t be tremendously out of place if described as an outtake from Dylan's Desire, recalling the genius contributions of one Scarlet Rivera.

However, for sheer atomic mass, the beating heart of Borderlands must be the album's final, twenty-one minute excursion to the center of the territory that The Myrrors seek to map—namely, "Note From the Underground," a Dostoyevsky-referencing drone that wordlessly reflects on that book's less-than-optimistic tone:

"In any case, civilization has made mankind if not more blood-thirsty, at least more vilely, more loathsomely blood-thirsty … now, we do think bloodshed abominable and yet, we engage in this abomination, with more energy than ever. Which is worse? Decide that for yourselves."

Decide for yourself what you want to see in The Myrrors.

More information can be found here.