29 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

I can think of few bands that are as cheerfully single-minded in their aesthetic vision as Esplendor Geométrico.  In fact, I suspect I could have written a remarkably accurate (if vague) review of Fluida Mekaniko without ever having heard it: lots of visceral and hypnotic percussion loops, no melodic hooks at all, plenty of low-level radio wave and static chaos, and some occasional tuneless and rambling vocals from Saverio Evangelista.  Done.  Predictably, Fluida Mekaniko DOES provide all of that, but I keep buying Esplendor Geométrico albums because they also tend to feature at least one or two absolutely mesmerizing pieces where everything comes together perfectly and Arturo Lanz seems like a goddamn genius. Fluida Mekaniko continues that tradition beautifully and even finds room to let in a bit more light and nuance than usual.  As a result, it is probably one of EG's strongest and most listenable albums yet.

Geometrik

The opening "Sindroma" is textbook prime Esplendor Geométrico, instantly launching into an obsessive and infectious rhythm that lies somewhere pummeling industrial repetition and shuffling Latin sensuousness.  As with just about all EG pieces, the groove is absolutely everything.  There is certainly plenty of activity in the periphery (washes of white noise and burbling electronics), but it is mostly there to add density and enough textural variation to keep the propulsive and relentless rhythm dynamically compelling.  It is a well-used and very simple formula, but it works extremely well here.

"Sindroma" is also one of the rare pieces on Fluida Mekaniko to prominently feature vocals.  Describing Evangelista’s vocals as "spoken" or "shouted" does not quite hit the mark, as they have a distracted-sounding and somewhat arbitrary element that makes me feel like I am overhearing half of a cell phone argument in Spanish.  Curiously, that does not detract from the piece at all, as–again–the groove is absolutely everything.  The vocals are just one more thing that happens to be occurring.  As much as I like "Sindroma," however, it is "Kooperativo Centrifugilo" that is the absolute zenith of the album, resembling an unstoppable juggernaut of a mechanized Latin dance party bulldozing through a protest rally: no frills, just pure hypnotic and all-consuming rhythm.  Elsewhere, "Todavia Mas" is an arguable dark horse contender for the album's centerpiece: though it boasts a fairly standard-issue EG groove, the surrounding music is surprisingly harrowing and ambitious, resembling a pitch-shifted fascist rally being dive-bombed by menacing swoops of swirling and flanging electronics.  The deep, lurching, relentlessly forward-moving shuffle of "Objektiva" is also quite absorbing, even going so far as to break with tradition by attempting a sort of stuttering left-field hook.

Within the extremely narrow confines of the EG sound, however, Evangelista and Arturo Sanz do sometimes find room to experiment a bit.  For example, "Tempa Akso" keeps the percussion at a bubbling background simmer for a bizarre soundscape of gurgling and gargling vocals that sounds like an infernal choir of cicadas or crickets.  It is probably not one of the album's best pieces, but it is an interesting and unexpected detour nonetheless.  A bit closer to my expectations is "Tenante La Ritmon," which intriguingly deconstructs EG's penchant for crushing rhythms into little more than a rolling bass rumble that sounds like a contact mic at the base of a mountain as a distant avalanche approaches.  My favorite (and the most endearing) of the anomalies, however, is definitely "Eterno Della Vita," which (unintentionally?) boasts a repeating loop that makes me think that Lanz and Evangelista are about to grab their surfboards and hit the beach.  Second prize probably goes to "Mosselprom," which sounds like the bizarre middle ground where Middle Eastern rave, mass demonstrations, and "hip" action movie soundtracks all improbably come together (picture Jason Statham suavely administering choreographed beatings to everyone who stands in his way at a crowded and churning rooftop party in Abu Dhabi).

Naturally, the issues with Fluida Mekaniko are the same ones that have followed Esplendor Geométrico for most of their career:  there is an obvious formula, these pieces are all just rhythmic vamps rather than evolving songs, and melodies or strong hooks are in short supply.  To their credit, however, Lanz and Evangelista do not make any attempt to conceal those issues or change at all.  Rather, they make a perverse virtue of them.  I am especially fond of the way Evangelista continually subverts the normal expectations for a vocalist, seemingly viewing himself as someone who merely provides the ambient sounds of a typical day at the giant crushing beat factory. Viewing Esplendor Geométrico as a factory makes perfect sense, actually: they single-mindedly produce one thing and one thing only (viscerally heavy and obsessively repeating rhythms) better than anyone else around, so there is no urgent need to expand their available services anytime soon.  That said, EG definitely tweaked operations in a significant way this time around, most likely as a result of their recent touring.  For example, this album is lot less brooding and 'industrial' than its predecessor (Ultraphoon). Also, Lanz and Evangelista seem to have unexpectedly cultivated a lighter touch with their samples–there is still plenty of noise and entropy, but some more poignant snatches of melody and dialogue now manage to sometimes bubble their way up to the surface or peak through the mechanized display of force.  Rhythm and power are still king though.  Characteristically, it is the more vibrant "global" dance rhythms that work the best and there are only a handful of such pieces, but Fluida Mekaniko's other fare is unexpectedly strong and varied enough to keep the momentum going for the entire album.

Samples:

• Sindroma
• Kooperativo Centrifugilo
• Todav√≠a M√°s

 

29 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

It occurred to me the other day that there was an incredible wave of great, experimentally minded solo guitarists several years back (Area C, Black Eagle Child, Talvihorros) that has either gone completely silent or moved into very different territory and that no one has quite risen up to replace them.  Thankfully, however, the wildly prolific Justin Wright has not gone anywhere and continues to be a tireless torchbearer, both through his Sonic Meditations label and his own Expo Seventy project.  Given the sheer volume of Expo Seventy releases, I tend to only check in on the major ones and this one fits the bill: recorded as part of a three-week art event in Kansas City (America: Here and Now), Wright was able to assemble a like-minded quartet featuring two drummers to back his slow-burning psych-rock pyrotechnics.  At its best, the results are surprisingly accessible and anthemic, like a time-stretched and deconstructed Black Sabbath jam experienced through a heady fog of drugs.

Essence

These sessions were originally intended as part of a larger and more ambitious project, as Kansas City musician Ashley Miller hoped to record multiple bands for a planned compilation.  Unfortunately, the necessary funding for that endeavor did not materialize, but Expo Seventy managed to record before it dissolved.  Aside from Wright and Expo Seventy bassist Aaron Osborne, the line-up for this album is expanded with a couple of recurring Sonic Meditations artists from Sounding the Deep and Shroud of Winter (David Williams and Mike Vera).  Interestingly, I would have expected Wright to immediately exploit the vibrant polyrhythmic possibilities of a two-drummer band, but the first half of the album goes in a considerably more restrained (but no less effective) direction.  There is admittedly a bit more cymbal and tom activity than a lone drummer could deliver, but the rhythm section primarily just focuses on providing a slow, heavy, and viscerally deep groove to ground Wright’s smoldering, drone-damaged shredding.  Eventually, the drums in "First Movement" snowball into something a bit more rolling and propulsive, but Williams and Vera generally just hang back in the pocket to make room for Wright’s blurred and lysergic strain of rock guitar heroics.  The drums do get a bit wilder in the more drone-based "Second Movement" though, gradually building into a roiling eruption of tribal toms and splashes of cymbals.  At one point, the percussion even reaches an apocalyptic and punky crescendo, but it quickly simmers back down into a throbbing avant-blues pulse.

While I am definitely drawn to well-done guitar drone like the proverbial doomed moth, it is the more conventionally "rock" piece ("First Movement") that strikes me as most essential here.  There are obviously plenty of great psych-rock and stoner-metal bands out there, but I have not heard any that sound quite like prime Expo Seventy.  Whereas other bands are sludgy, indulgent, wildly explosive, or prone to improv-heavy freak-outs, "First Movement" embodies trance-like repetition, simplicity, and simmering restraint.  All of that is appealing enough on its own, but Wright also has a real talent for anthemic riffage, casually tossing off bitchin' hooks, moaning string-bends, and dual-guitar harmonies in a haze of delay and just letting them dissipate as he coolly moves onto his next idea.  Of course, Wright gets a hell of lot of help from the rest of the band, as his layered haze of druggy riffs would not be nearly as compelling without the density and momentum of the underlying groove.  While it is probably just as good, "Second Movement" is considerably less distinctive as an artistic vision, as Wright initially focuses his attention on a simple, gently throbbing synth drone.  It is damn hard to sound unique as a minimalist armed with a synthesizer.  If the piece continued exclusively in that vein, it would be little more than a competent retro/kosmiche pastiche, but it ultimately becomes a showcase for some wild dual-drummer pyrotechnics.  Thankfully, Wright does not completely fade into the background, as he colors the percussion explosion with some chirping synth flutters and some nicely roiling and groaning guitar noise. While it does not quite transcend feeling like a purely improvised jam session, the drumming is at least explosive enough to make it a compelling one.  Also, it may all just be an amusingly extended introduction to the throbbing and bluesy coda.  It is very hard to guess what was planned and what was not.

As I listened to America Here & Now Sessions for the first time, several successive thoughts flashed rapidly into my head.  The most immediate revelation was that "First Movement" was remarkably great, reminding me that I have been lax in my attention to Expo Seventy lately and have probably missed out on some similarly fine work.  Then I marveled at how cool and improbable it was that Wright was hard at work churning out experimental drone cassettes in Missouri instead of fronting a band like High on Fire.  It is all too easy to take an artist for granted when they have been around for a long time and seemingly have a new release every month.  Lastly, I reflected upon how wonderful it would be if Wright could actually keep a two-drummer band together long enough to write, rehearse, and record an absolutely killer studio album.  Sadly, I suspect Wright does not quite have a King Crimson-level budget, so there will probably not be any apocalyptic Mainliner-caliber opuses in his future.  I am certainly delighted that he got to record this though, as I like this direction quite a lot.

Samples:

• First Movement¬†(excerpt one)
• First Movement¬†(excerpt two)
• Second Movement

 

28 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

Having been invited to perform at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN in Switzerland by one of the scientists, HNIA spent a year studying particle physics and then created Patterns of Light. The scientist, Dr. James Beacham, was asked to "fact-check for bad data, misquotes, dragons, pseudoscience and to make sure the witchcraft to physics ratio wouldn't be too embarrassing," he agreed and soon sent pages of notes, screenshots, event displays and also recommended books and videos.

Patterns of Light is the result of this exchange of information. The research focuses on dark matter, dark energy, the search for extra dimensions, mini-black holes and the machinery that collides particles at high speeds using thirteen teraelectronvolts but also studies the fundamental forces of nature as seen through the classic creation myths, the visionary theology of Hildegard Von Bingen, medieval manuscripts and cosmic maps, all in an effort to turn the physics back into poetry.

More information can be found here.

24 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1000942931/where-does-a-body-end-a-documentary-on-the-band-sw

24 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

Silver/ Lead (pf24) - 31st March 2017

Playing Harp For The Fishes        3:44    
Short Elevated Period        2:54    
Diamonds In Cups        4:09    
Forever & A Day        4:07    
An Alibi        3:10    
Sonic Lens        4:31    
This Time        4:17    
Brio        3:37    
Sleep On The Wing        3:00    
Silver/ Lead        2:40

Today pinkflag is launching Silver / Lead with lead track 'Short Elevated Period'. Streaming on NPR and of course our soundcloud. The album is also available for pre-order from today. This time we are releasing it in 3 physical formats, CD, Vinyl and Special Edition - a hard backed 80 page case bound book, with text by Graham Duff, extended credits, lyrics, brand new interviews and exclusive colour photographs as well as the CD itself. This format will be only produced in limited quantities but unlike The Change Becomes Us Special Edition with which it shares a format, it will be also available in selected independent record shops.

Here's the album press release.

Silver/Lead is the 15th studio album from musical pioneers Wire. It arrives on the 40th anniversary of their debut performance. Yet it’s about as far from nostalgia as you could get. This is the sound of a uniquely addictive 21st century psychedelic post-punk. 

Colin Newman and Matt Simms’ guitar work is alternately jagged and luminous, while bassist Graham Lewis’s ear-catching lyrics are vivid yet oblique. Meanwhile, drummer Robert Grey provides a virtual masterclass in percussive minimalism. But it’s how the various instruments mesh together that really counts. And Newman’s production creates a sonic space in which even the smallest gesture is accorded some recognition.

Highlights include the optimistic dazzle of ‘Diamonds In Cups’, with its almost T. Rex-style buzz and chug, and the moody swing of ‘This Time’. Elsewhere on the musical spectrum, there’s the menacing widescreen grandeur of ‘Playing Harp for the Fishes’ and breakneck-paced guitar pop of ‘Short Elevated Period’.

Wire are one of the world’s most ground-breaking bands, their influence acknowledged by bands as diverse as Blur, Sonic Youth, R.E.M. and Savages. But they have never been interested in exploiting past glories. For Wire, there is only ever one possible direction: forwards. So it’s perhaps not surprising that over recent years, they’ve played strings of sold-out shows, achieved career-best record sales, and been cited as a strong influence by yet another generation of bands.

Wire’s last three albums garnered nothing but rave reviews. From 2013’s strangely beautiful Change Becomes Us (“It’s fantastic.” – Pitchfork) to the crackling motorik of 2015’s Wire (“It’s all really well turned, potent and crisp.” – The Guardian), and last year’s punchy mini-album Nocturnal Koreans (“It's a cracker and sounds defiantly modern.” – The Quietus). Consequently, although it may be being released on the band’s 40th anniversary, Silver/Lead is an album which has nothing to do with the past and everything to do with the future.

2017

Although it hasn't been the best kept secret, it may surprise some that Wire will release their 3rd album in as many years in 2017. In fact the last year Wire released a 3rd album in a 3rd successive year was 1979. Clearly something is going on! Now we can start to reveal that story. The release date of 31st March 2017 is neither arbitrary nor accidental. It is in fact the closest available release day to an important anniversary for Wire. It is not the anniversary of the first time a band called Wire existed or the anniversary of the release of Pink Flag, but it’s the anniversary of the 1st gig by Wire as a 4 piece – originally having been a 5 piece who mainly played material by it’s then leader George Gill. April Fool’s day 1977 was the first time a band that anyone familiar with Wire, even today, would recognise took to the stage. The event was even documented - HERE

So what does it mean to Wire to be 40 years old? To be honest, something & nothing at the same time. We could have even chosen to ignore it but in a way it’s more honest to embrace it, even if it’s already being tagged as “40 years of not looking back”. We will of course celebrate it by a new album and several DRILL : FESTIVALS (more news about those in a couple weeks) and there will also be touring. You will be well advised to keep an eye on your inbox, pinkflag.com and Wire’s Facebook & twitter.

23 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

I never know what to expect when putting on a new Ralf Wehowsky album. He has never let me down, but what form of strange electronics and unconventional compositional techniques he employs is always a mystery. Flurry of Delusion is then, fittingly, another extremely abstract and unpredictable work from the legendary member of P16.D4 that is as much random improvisation as it is rigidly structured composition. Maybe. Or maybe not. The confusion is intentional, by the way.

Black Rose/Dirter

The initial foundation of Flurry of Delusion is a fully improvised recording session Wehowsky had with fellow composer Giuseppe Ielasi in early 2010.However, in traditionally perverse RLW fashion, these recordings were then mangled and mutilated over the span of six years, with the liner notes proclaiming, "all parts relate to each other and nothing is what it seems to be."

Only sparse information is given as to what instruments were even used during the initial sessions, but occasionally they can be discerned.Near the beginning of "He Found Himself Facing His Painful Reality" (each of the eight song titles can be sequenced to create a different poem), it sounds like some passages of acoustic guitar slip out largely untreated, although still played in a rather unconventional manner.Clattering percussive moments and shimmering electronics swell up in a collage of improvised, although seemingly not truly random, sound.

Electronics (or natural sounds treated to sound like electronics) are the predominant feature on "Without Subterfuge or Cosmetic Disguise", a blend of loose, buzzing like glitches into bigger sweeping tones that trail off uncomfortably and then come back aggressively.That and the jerky stops lead to an almost unsettling unpredictability to the sound."Before" is similarly structurally and instrumentation wise, again a whirling mass of buzzing chaos and abrupt starting and stopping, although here Wehowsky adds in a nice metallic resonating drone.

At other points on Flurry of Delusion, the sounds that are almost detectable are less musical ones.Amidst the weird panning and machinery clatter of "Within An Unreliable Narration" there is the sound of what is likely an audio cable not plugged into any instrument, judging from the telltale buzzing hum.With a layer of clicking and popping, somehow these disparate passages come together in a way that makes sense, and also an excellent sense of space from a sound design standpoint.An opening solo that is likely a vibrating cell phone leads off "Let Him End Up" is treated just enough to have additional depth, and also becomes the most identifiable element in a mass of bizarre sounds.

The credits for Wehowsky and Ielasi's improvisations included guitar, harmophone, turntables, and percussion, but other than the guitar, RLW did an exemplary job at hiding the sources.Which, as someone who has been following his career for a while (including his P16.D4 days), comes as absolutely no surprise.Little on Flurry of Delusion makes sense, at least superficially, and instead it is an unrelenting rush of bent noises and vaguely familiar sounds, which is exactly what he does so well.As far as the ambiguity goes for the album’s concept, it did seem like the less I tried to make sense of things, the more it all came together as a cohesive work, as bizarre as it may be.

samples:

• He Found Himself Facing His Painful Reality
• Without Subterfuge or Cosmetic Disguise
• Let Him End Up

 

23 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

After a lengthy dormancy, Andrea Chiaravalli reinstated his long standing harsh electronics project Iugula-Thor in 2012 and has been active ever since, releasing some of the strongest work of his career. This is the first full fledged release since then, with the prior ones being largely splits and singles, and also features Chiaravalli partnering with Paolo Bandera (Sshe Retina Stimulants, Sigillum S) to create a bleak, but multifaceted record of diverse electronics.

Bloodlust!

Iugula-Thor never fit in quite as specifically as many other Italian artists associated with the power electronics scene.Their work largely took on a grey aura simultaneously colored by Marizio Bianchi's depression and the violence of giallo films.It is a distinct and great style, but it is always great to hear an artist breaking away from what is expected. Iugula-Thor’s influence has drawn more heavily from the thrash and speed metal scenes, and while that may not be immediately apparent these days, I think that influence adds a lot to the duo’s unique sound.

Rhythms play a notable role in the sound of Choosing Your Own Brand of Evil."Unknown Third Party" is driven by a crashing loop and an insistent, throbbing bit of bass, as the two work a multitude of weird synth sounds in, at times twinkling and almost light, and other times dark and sinister.The overall effect is wonderfully schizophrenic.The terse "One Mind No Views" is a bit less subtle in rhythm:a big, rib cage pummeling kick drum that never subsides for the pieces' brief two minute duration, with other bits of trash percussion and simply oscillating noise synths stay prominent.

Even a more noise oriented composition, such as "n.a." has some semblance of rhythm with the crunchy static-laden loop that underscores it, but the tasteful applications of filtered noise and other bursts of static place it somewhere on the spectrum between avant garde experimentalism and outright noise brutality.There is a similarly tenuous balance to be found on "First Time My Wrists Opened", though the grinding electronics and sinister slowed voice passages nudge it a bit more in the death industrial direction.

The moments where the duo take a "throw everything together and see what happens" are the ones that stand out the most for me, however.For example:"I'm Not" is at first all noise loops, but with an almost toy-like synthesizer line.Voices appear here and there, and the whole song alternates from lighter bits of electronics into vaguely industrial stomping.The voices and what almost could be horn samples make for a confusing, scatter-shot quality in instrumentation but it all manages to work together.The album closer "Hammer" is also a bizarre mix of marching band like rhythms, largely clean synth sounds, and what could almost be a violin here and there.Compared to what preceded it, it is lighter and less oppressive, but still just the right amount of abrasive and weird.

For their first full album release in nearly two decades, Chiaravalli and Bandera have put together an excellent, fully realized album with Choosing Your Own Brand of Evil.The mood and style may not be a surprise, but the actual work from the two artists is a unique, idiosyncratic mass of collaged electronics and abrasive electronics that comes across as composed, rather than just improvised.The music itself is where the unpredictability lies, and that sense of the unknown is where it excels the most.

samples:

• Unknown Third Party
• n.a.
• Hammer

 

22 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

Few current artists are as consistent and reliably absorbing as William Basinski, as he has carved a wonderful career out of conjuring work of hypnotic beauty from simple, well-chosen snippets from his backlog of decaying tapes.  It is not nearly as simple a formula as it sounds, but Basinski always manages to make it look effortless anyway.  Recently, however, he seems to have become a bit restless with that aesthetic, as he transformed the more traditionally Basinski-esque The Cascade into The Deluge with the aid of some feedback loops of varying lengths.  A Shadow in Time is an even more radical leap forward, as the title piece feels like a pile-up of blurred tape loops woven into a vibrantly shifting composition.  The other piece, Basinski's gorgeous tribute to David Bowie, is admittedly a bit less adventurous in structure, but is not devoid of unexpected twists either.

Temporary Residence

The opening "A Shadow in Time" does not waste any time at all in establishing that Basinski has some new ideas to share, as the murkily pulsing synth drones are quickly embellished with a series of very composed-sounding swells of ghostly sounding feedback or harmonics.  Also, the underlying drones gradually accumulate additional layers, additional density, and some subtly dissonant and grinding metallic textures, so it is almost instantly impossible to tell how many loops are involved, how long they are, and how much of the piece is not culled from loops at all.  If Basinski played anything in real-time (and it seems he did), he certainly did an admirable job in making it sound every bit as gauzy and distressed as his old tapes.  Also of note: the piece feels quite a bit more amorphous than a lot of Basinski’s work, as there is no immediately graspable melody or satisfying chord progression amidst the swirling ocean of drones and tape hiss.  Normally, a conspicuous lack of structure or hooks would be a bad thing, but "Shadow" actually represents a bold step forward compositionally, as the harsher, grinding textures give the piece an ominous sense of menace to hold my attention while a dark and shifting undercurrent sneakily takes form.  As such, it is definitely not one of Basinski's more immediately gratifying pieces, but it gradually revealed itself to be quite subtle, heavy, and ingenious once I listened to it enough for everything to fully sink in.  While the comparatively placid fade-out perhaps overstays its welcome a bit, the best parts of "Shadow" feel like a sinister black cloud billowing up through a deceptively calm sea.

"For David Robert Jones" on the other hand, initially feels like business as usual, as a warm and dreamlike loop endlessly repeats with minimal embellishment.  In fact, it is not unlike the gorgeous melancholy of Basinski's classic 92982 album, resembling a blurred and gently hallucinatory choral mass.  That is probably the side of Basinski's artistry that I love the best, but "For David Robert Jones" unexpectedly develops into something a bit more than a heavenly, "locked groove" elegy, as something that sounds like a tape-distressed saxophone hook erupts from the bliss-fog about a third of the way through the piece.  The delayed introduction of a bold new motif is not a common Basinski trope at all, so it makes for a comparatively vibrant splash of color and nicely deepens the emotional richness of the piece.  While that turns out to be the final significant surprise that Basinski has up his sleeve for the album, he makes the interesting choice of juxtaposing the beginning of that hook with a repeating wrong-sounding note.  Weirdly, that one sour note is what elevates the piece into something truly special for me, as a slightly curdled version of lush melancholia is considerably more intriguing and mysterious than pure sonic heaven with no sharp edges to watch out for.

As an album, A Shadow in Time has a lot going for it and certainly claims a place among Basinski's stronger releases.  First and foremost, "For David Robert Jones" is easily one of the most beautiful pieces that he has ever recorded. The title piece is not quite on the same level, but it is no less significant.  While my deep appreciation for William Basinski's work is well-documented, it is not an unconditional love–he can only explore variations of familiar themes so many times before they start to yield diminishing returns for me (and presumably for him as well), so it is encouraging to see a promising step in a different direction.  I have no idea if "A Shadow in Time" represents the way forward for Basinski, but I am definitely eager to see where it leads.  In the meantime, it is refreshing to hear something outside the norm and an unexpected treat to see Basinski in more overt "composer" mode.  Given that his treasure trove of damaged tapes turned out to be such career-defining, once-in-a-lifetime lightning bolt of inspiration, it is far too easy to forget that Basinski is more than someone with limitless patience and a golden ear: he was a gifted musician and composer long before The Disintegration Loops changed everything for him and that person has not gone anywhere.

Samples:

• A Shadow in Time
• For David Robert Jones (excerpt one)
• For David Robert Jones (excerpt two)

 

 

22 January 2017

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Albums and Singles

This is a long-awaited CD reissue of a largely unheard 45 RPM art edition LP from 2014. Although the idea of getting a small Steven Stapleton painting with an album was certainly appealing at the time, I was understandably a bit apprehensive about buying an expensive album that could easily turn out to just be a bunch of regurgitated studio scraps or live recordings.  I passed.  As it turns out, however, The Great Ecstasy was (and is) actually a surprisingly excellent and cohesive album.  More importantly, this reissue appends another great rarity to the original release in the form of Silver Bromide's "Circles of Confusion," which is one of my favorite NWW pieces in years.  Given that copies of Silver Bromide are currently going for $1500, this humble CD holds an awful lot of appeal.

United Dirter

In classically cryptic Stapleton fashion, The Great Ecstasy of the Basic Corrupt offers no real information other than the track titles, but the line-up is rumored to be just Stapleton and Andrew Liles.  I am happy to accept that, as the pieces themselves do not offer much in the way of any further clues: each of these three 20-minute pieces sounds like it could stylistically be the work of a completely different band, though there is an admirable consistency in both mood and pacing that unites them.

The opening "No Meat for the Dogma" is a nice bit of menacing Eastern drone built upon a sinister-sounding two-chord bed of buzzing tambura or sitar.  It seems like Liles had an especially prominent role, as the foreground is devoted to a fitfully unfolding and surprisingly musical harpsichord solo that sounds like something an especially sensitive and melancholy vampire might play alone in his castle in one of his darker moods.  Since I cannot picture Steven Stapleton ever playing a harpsichord, he presumably focused upon the nightmarish and hallucinatory drone-blossoms that bleed together and undulate in the periphery.  It is quite a wonderful piece that would lend itself well to a La Monte Young-style marathon performance (or one of NWW’s own sleep concerts), as it feels like it could endlessly ebb and flow forever without getting boring.  The other piece from the original album, "Feed the Loathing," is a bit more minimal and understated at first, but nicely continues the theme of psychotropic droning–in fact, Coil’s Time Machines initially springs to mind as an apt reference point. The piece quickly evolves beyond its foundation of slow, hypnotic pulsing though, adding in some haunted-sounding atmospherics in the form of mysterious creaks, metallic washes and clatters, discordant chimes, and tense swells of "horror movie" synths.  Much like "Dogma," it is not exactly a structured and evolving composition so much as it is a rich, shifting, and evocative tapestry of ominous ambiance, albeit one a bit more intent on conveying an escalating sense of dread.  More than anything, "Feed the Loathing" feels like the soundtrack to a paranoid and sleepless night in a remote cabin.

Silver Bromide's "Circles of Confusion" is a different animal altogether, though it is similarly restrained and slow-burning.  The big difference is that "Circles" sounds like the work of a brilliant psych-rock band with seemingly limitless patience.  It opens with a loop of a beautifully lilting snarl of feedback that repeats several times before a simple two-note bass line chimes in to mirror it.  As with "No Meat for the Dogma," it is the kind of perfect and elegantly minimal motif that could be hypnotically repeated forever, but even more so.  Tempting as it may have been, however, Liles and Stapleton did not just leave the piece on autopilot.  Rather, they imaginatively embellish their glacially unfolding groove with a bevy of guitar-like noises worthy of Sonic Youth: clattering de-tuned strings, warbling and oscillating overtones, and some unexpectedly poignant swells of feedback.  Another big difference is the mood, as "Circles" completely eschews any sense of menace for a sustained reverie of bittersweet and dreamlike beauty. Gradually, it blossoms into a somewhat straightforward and sustain-heavy guitar solo, losing a bit of its brilliantly deconstructionist otherness, but it is still quite an all-around stellar piece.

Obviously, long-time NWW fans are going to pounce on this album regardless of what any reviews say, as both Great Ecstasy and Silver Bromide (along with Xerography) are among the most maddeningly elusive releases in NWW's entire discography.  The good news is that they will definitely not be disappointed at all when they finally hear these pieces for the first time.  I know I certainly was not.  There are admittedly some other NWW eras that I prefer to this one, but I do very much enjoy what Stapleton and his collaborators have been up to in recent years and this feels like an atypically strong and painstakingly crafted batch of songs.  I did not expect that at all for releases that were issued in such small editions.  In particular, the wonderful "Circles of Confusion" is a revelation, as it does not sound like anything else that I have yet heard from either NWW or Liles.  In fact, if it had been recorded by someone like My Bloody Valentine (not an absolutely insane stretch) as an experimental b-side tucked away on some single, it would probably be widely revered as a left-field noise-guitar masterpiece.  Thankfully, songs do not have feelings, so it is perfectly fine that "Circles" will instead lead a quiet life as an unexpected gem on an obscure but extremely satisfying NWW reissue.

Samples:

• No Meat for the Dogma
• Feed the Loathing
• Circles of Confusion

 

22 January 2017

Administrator

Albums and Singles

Rashad Becker’s 2013 debut album was a singular and radical work of art, resembling nothing less than field recordings from a sinister extra-dimensional jungle.  For this follow-up, however, he apparently opted not to try to blow my mind a second time and instead just deepened and expanded upon what he had already done previously.  Naturally, the second volume is every bit as deranged and wrong-sounding as the first, so my favorite hallucinatory and Lovecraftian aural nightmare essentially just became twice as long.  I am quite fine with that state of affairs.

PAN

Much like its predecessor, the pieces that comprise Traditional Music of Notional Species Vol. II are divided into two categories: themes and dances.  While the line between them can be a bit blurry, the "dance" pieces tend to have a little bit more in the way of structure, such as the menacing and mechanized-sounding throb that relentlessly moves forward beneath the cacophonous skwonks and buzzes of "Dances VI."  Curiously, however, "Themes VII" boasts a weirdly staggering rhythm that feels more danceable than any of the designated dances.  Such odd inconsistencies are inconsequential with an aesthetic as alien and abstract as this one though.  (Un)naturally, the actual sounds are every bit as wrong-sounding and unnervingly organic as those of the first volume and similarly difficult to comprehend.  For the most part, however, it sounds like this album is primarily the fruit of an inventively misused modular synthesizer, though Becker largely avoids anything that resembles a patch, pattern, melody, or chord.  Instead, the surreal chorus of blurts and jabberings feels like a field recording that has been digitized and rendered quite sickly and weird.  Granted, plenty of musicians have tried to conjure up the craziest and ugliest sounds imaginable, but Becker is truly on another level altogether, going far beyond the pale with his ambition, imagination, unwavering thematic commitment, and the visceral and crystalline clarity of his engineering.  This is a vibrant and fully formed sound world like nothing else.

It is hard to choose a favorite piece, as the primary appeal of this album is that Becker basically dropped me in the middle of a seething, gibbering, and absolutely otherworldly miasma.  Consequently, it feels somewhat silly to champion one vignette of squelching, belching, and squirming weirdness over another.  Few albums are as audaciously and willfully inaccessible as this one, yet it is so boldly imaginative, richly textured, and disquietingly evocative that it is an endlessly fascinating rabbit hole to get lost in.  Still, some of these bizarre fever dreams are admittedly more striking than others, such as the opening "Themes V" which slowly transforms a plinking and metallic percussive motif into an increasingly dense and gnarled eruption of elephantine swoops and growls.  The aforementioned "Themes VII" is also quite memorable, resembling a mutant tango mingled with a chorus of gibbering wildlife and ugly, wobbly synth moans in the vein of Throbbing Gristle’s "Hamburger Lady."

While this exactly the kind of album that I spend every year waiting for, it is certainly not going to be for everybody and I can accept that there are some perceivable flaws.  I will not accept "deeply inaccessible and weird" as one of them, of course, but these eight pieces definitely feel like a kaleidoscopic and lysergic hall of mirrors that does not ever evolve in any sort of conventional compositional way.  To my ears, however, any conspicuous traces of human intervention would completely ruin the vibrant and unnerving illusion that Becker so painstakingly crafted.  As far as I am concerned, his judgment was entirely unerring: he set out to make something completely unique, deranged, and alien-sounding and he succeeded beautifully.  And then he had the good sense not to fuck it up by over-egging the pudding.  If Chris Watson could make a field recording of squelching, gurgling, and slithering cosmic horror, it would probably sound an awful lot like this.  Since he presumably cannot and will not do that anytime soon, Rashad Becker's work is probably the closest thing we currently have to a disturbing glimpse through a rupture in the fabric of reality.  Cherish it appropriately.

• Themes V
• Themes VII
• Dances VI