16 April 2016

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Albums and Singles

Despite decades of activity and having crossed paths in various collaborations Editions Mego is honoured to release the first ever duo recording from two of the most highly regarded citizens of planet experimental electronic. Individually, Jim O’Rourke and Christian Fennesz have been responsible for numerous legendary works which merge the traditional avant-garde with contemporary sensibilities. On It’s Hard For Me To Say I’m Sorry these giants of experimental electronic practice come together for an immensely powerful sonic experience.

The signature of both O’Rourke and Fennesz cohabit this new release with O’Rourke’s gurgling harmonies swimming amongst the shimmering frequencies and strummed melodies produced by Fennesz. Two side long tracks situate themselves as a warm electronic adventure. Simultaneously radical and comforting these works shift from gentle sonorities to fully distorted explosions all of which reside within a template of tension between musical and non-music matter.

Timeless in execution and presentation It’s Hard For Me To Say I’m Sorry is a deeply rewarding sonic experience from two of the most romantic gentlemen active in experimental music today.

Out June 24th.  More information can be found here.

10 April 2016

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Albums and Singles

Himukalt seems to be more than a bit of an enigma. Other than being the solo project of Ester Kärkkäinen from Nevada, there is very little to be found online about her work. That ambiguity suits Conditions of Acrimony (her first release, at least in a public capacity) rather well though. Drawing from a diverse array of abrasive, challenging styles of music, she expertly blends order and chaos, as well as rhythm and dissonance throughout these six pieces.

Helen Scarsdale Agency

The cassette's opener, "Completely," certainly feels like a nod back to the early 1990s variant of industrial and power electronics championed by the likes of Tesco and Cold Meat Industry via its use of sputtering electronics and broken voice samples.She bounces the piece back and forth between this harsh rhythmic throb and wet, pulsating electronic noise before ending it on a passage of wide open static.This use of voice samples is a recurring theme throughout, often times sounding like a random grab from a transient shortwave burst or an out of tune radio broadcast, and rarely discernible as far as what is actually being said.

This is very evident on "This Conflict," in which the crackling voices appear within the context of massive echoing crashes and raw, metallic scrapings.There are more pronounced expanses of drone, but as a whole it comes across like a tightly structured and organized piece."Without Laughter" is an appropriate title for the dull hum and isolating emptiness that comprises it.As a whole Kärkkäinen keeps the piece at a slow and creepy dynamic, with some occasional jet engine like outbursts of noise to keep things from sounding too complacent.

The opening of the b-side of the tape, "Tuberculosis," stands out mostly due to its less rigid structure.Rather than the slow building creepy electronics that mostly define the album, this is more of a jerky, cut-up piece of jackhammer loops and jagged surges of harsh noise.On paper it sounds not unlike the classic work of Pain Jerk, but there is a less hyperactive, more overall dour color to the sound.Sustained shimmering electronics reappear on "I Started", again paired with a throbbing low end to introduce a semblance of rhythm, continuing the clash of structure and noise.The dark closer "Please Don't Call For An Ambulance" ends the tape on a grinding note.With a heavy emphasis on the mid-range, Kärkkäinen works with exploding noises and ambient space, resulting in a bleak and unsettling conclusion.

With apparently no other Himukalt releases publically, and a website that mostly just showcases Ester Kärkkäinen’s visual art, Conditions of Acrimony is an amazingly well developed, fully realize piece of unsettling noise and raw electronics.The combination of obscure sound sources and a strong sense of composition elevates her work to the quality matching the titans of these styles, such as Maurizio Bianchi, Brighter Death Now, or Anenzephalia (amongst others), without ever sounding like an attempt to emulate them, making for an extremely compelling debut.

samples:

• Completely
• Without Laughter
• Tuberculosis

 

10 April 2016

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Albums and Singles

I suspect someone could probably spend years compiling a thesis that contextualizes and explains the ideas, techniques, and inspirations behind Jan St. Werner's bizarre Fiepblatter series, but its overarching concept is apparently a simple desire to "dismantle genres." Last year’s completely bonkers and uncategorizable Miscontinuum took care of that objective quite conclusively though, so there was not much left to prove with this follow-up.  I am not sure if St. Werner would necessarily agree with me or not, but Felder is certainly a hell of a lot more listenable than its prickly, disorienting predecessor.  That said, it is still quite an unapologetically alien and uncompromising release, gleefully taking organic, orchestral elements and mangling them into a stuttering, splintered, and kaleidoscopic mindfuck.

Thrill Jockey

Much like the Fiepblatter series as a whole, Felder is (by design) quite a difficult album to summarize.  The general aesthetic, however, can best be described as resembling a quiet chamber music performance that has been stretched, chopped, digitized, and otherwise mangled into near-oblivion.  The degree of obliteration varies quite wildly, however.  Also, St. Werner has no problem at all with departing from even that loosely defined unifying theme when the mood strikes him.  While it certainly makes for a disorienting listening experience (I feel like the ground is constantly being pulled out from under me), it is not an extremely jarring or unpleasant one, as the overall feel is more "ambient soundscapes with a lot of surprises and sharp edges" than "manic free-for-all." Sometimes, in fact, a slow-moving and completely unmolested melody unexpectedly emerges from the squall, like the mournful French horn theme in middle of "Singoth."  Of course, there is still all kinds of surreal chaos erupting in the periphery while that is happening.  In fact, controlled chaos seems to be St. Werner's muse throughout Felder and he delivers it in consistently inventive and vibrant ways.  For example, the end of the aforementioned "Singoth" bears virtually no resemblance to the beginning or middle sections, as it closes with a surprisingly menacing duet between densely buzzing and ominous drones and a rather sinister-sounding bird.

Given the fractured, constantly shifting nature of Felder, declaring any one piece to be a highlight is a dubious enterprise.  This album is the musical equivalent of that hackneyed regional joke about waiting around for a few minutes if you don’t like the weather.  Of course, the flipside of that is that if you do like the music, it is still going to quickly change anyway.  As such, Felder is best appreciated as a whole.  That said, there are a number of great moments amidst all the entropy.  The closest thing that Felder offers to a single is undoubtedly the all-too-brief "Foggy Esor, Pt.2."  At the very least, it boasts both a coherent structure and a strong melody, sounding like a slowed-down pop song crafted from a hollow, pitch-shifted koto and a steel drum.  Sadly, St. Werner does not expend much time or effort expanding upon that promising motif, instead opting to transform it into a gently twinkling electronic and cello coda after only a minute.  The opening "Beardman," on the other hand, might be the most fully realized and consistent piece on the album, approximating a woozily languorous collaboration between a jazz bassist and early Fennesz.  It still has a bunch of uneasily coexisting segments, but they flow together much more smoothly than elsewhere on the album.  Also, the closing 30 seconds is quite beautiful, sounding like a chorus of sea-sick, pitch-shifted flutes tenderly fluttering. I also quite liked the opening section of "Kroque AF," which sounds like a melody desperately trying to come into focus amidst a host of squelches and processed engine-revving sounds.  The lengthy, melodic, and unexpectedly subdued "The Somewhere That is Moving" is yet another stand-out, as its insistent, hazy piano pulse proves to be an effectively solid foundation for St. Werner's experimentations.

Given that St. Werner is completely unwilling to sustain any single mood or idea for longer than a minute or so, I would be hard-pressed to call Felder a great album.  It is quite imaginative and listenable though and it may very well be a tour de force of…something.  Unfettered imagination?  Mercilessly aggressive processing?  Unpredictability?  I do not know.  It certainly is not boring, but its excesses would be a lot more palatable if they were balanced by a bit more structure and a few strong hooks or rhythms.  This is definitely the sort of album that will be more admired than beloved.  That said, however, Felder seems to be exactly the album that St. Werner wanted to make, as his many sudden transitions into passages of sublime fragility or fleetingly wonderful melodies make it clear that he was in complete control the entire time.  The most likely explanation for Felder seems to be that St. Werner completed a perfectly enjoyable album of melodic, neo-classical electro-acoustic pieces, listened to it, decided it was boring, then decided to enthusiastically chop it to pieces.  Then he probably listened to that album and decided "I bet I can go even further!"  Then he listened to that album and decided "I can go further still!"  And so on.  That imagined process certainly makes for a highly original, challenging, and complex album, but Felder definitely feels like an album where the target audience is unapologetically Jan St. Werner himself.  While there is a lot to like here, it definitely takes some effort, indulgence, and patience to fully appreciate St. Werner's skewed vision.

• Beardman
• Kroque AF
• Foggy Esor Pt. 2

 

10 April 2016

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Albums and Singles

Tim Hecker’s first album for 4AD is already a major event, unexpectedly garnering praise from sources as mainstream as The New York Times and Rolling Stone.  We live in strange times indeed.  Naturally, it deserves all the accolades it gets, as Tim Hecker seems physically unable to make a disappointing album at this point in his career, but far more interesting than the quality is how Love Streams is such a conspicuous departure from many of Hecker’s usual tropes.  Also, despite its atypically high profile and widespread coverage, it may actually be the most perversely bizarre and experimental album that Hecker has yet released (My Love is Rotten to the Core excluded, of course).

4AD

I am fairly sure that the first Tim Hecker album I ever picked up was Haunt Me, Haunt Me Do It Again, all the way back in 2001 or 2002.  I instantly fell in love with it, of course, but Hecker's work nevertheless fit very comfortably into a milieu that I was already quite immersed in: Oval, Fennesz, Pita, Jim O’Rourke’s laptop work, etc.  It was great, but not entirely revelatory.  As the years passed, I continued to dutifully buy each new Tim Hecker album, yet I found that I was increasingly in no hurry at all to get them as soon as they came out.  While I knew I would like them (they are almost all stellar albums), there was a creeping familiarity that dampened my ardor.  The reason that I bring this up is because that trend of diminishing returns unexpectedly reversed for me with 2011's Ravedeath.  Rather than being a reliable old friend, Tim Hecker transformed into an artist who was hell-bent on relentlessly moving forward and constantly reinventing himself.  Since then, each new album has been like Hecker hit a "reset" button on his career.  Granted, he still always sounds unmistakably like Tim Hecker (fuzzed-out, warm, richly textured, and pulsing), but there is a lot of room to move around within those confines.  On Love Streams, the twist is that Hecker has unexpectedly decided to focus on working with vocalists for the first time (in this case, an Icelandic choir).

If the languorous flutes in the opening "Obsidian Counterpoint" or the clipped, warbling vocals of "Music of the Air" sound suspiciously like classical or religious music, it is because that is exactly what they are…albeit in quite an altered state.  Love Streams partly originates from Hecker's interest in 15th century polyphonic composer Josquin des Prez.  Unusual grist for a contemporary experimental music album for sure, but the beauty of Hecker's artistry lies in how he ultimately decided to use des Prez's work to suit his own ends.  Using software called Melodyne, Hecker converted recordings of des Prez's pieces into sheet music, which he then edited to better fit his own aesthetic, lowering the pitch, slowing it down, and removing some unwanted notes.  The revised compositions were then presented to Jóhann Jóhannsson, who conducted the choir.  Jòhannsson then juggled the syllables of the Latin to strip the words of all meaning.  As if that was not enough, Hecker periodically chimed in with helpful instructions, such as urging vocalists to sing like a drugged Chewbacca.  It is hard to imagine a choir of hapless vocalists following such instructions sounding anything other than insane, but a finished Tim Hecker album presumably bears little resemblance at all to its source material: Love Streams has very much been ProTooled into sublime unrecognizability.  In fact, it is surprisingly subdued, given how tense and nerve-jangling its predecessor Virgins could get.  Hecker rarely bares his teeth at all here, aside from the seemingly randomized electric guitar in "Voice Crack," the gnarled distortion of "Black Phase," or the grinding, warped crescendo of "Collapse Sonata."  For the most part, Love Streams is just an immersive, heavenly blur that snatches of inspiration continually bubble through.

If Love Streams has a flaw, it is merely that it is rather lean on pieces that explode from the speakers and leave my jaw on the floor, which is surprising since Ben Frost was once again involved.  Nothing at all on this album comes close to matching the intensity of Virgin's best moments, though both "Music of the Air" and "Violet Monumental I" are both quietly gorgeous masterpieces.  I do not quite think that the album itself is a masterpiece though, despite being an exciting and ingenious late-career creative breakthrough: the strengths of Love Streams lie in its novel aesthetic and its dream-like, quasi-spiritual mood rather than in its compositions.  Naturally, that was a conscious choice and fits well with the celestial, processed voices and shimmering drones, but it makes much of the album feel like a diffuse reverie occasionally punctuated by bursts of melody or rare sharp edges.  While it all works beautifully, Hecker does not quite distill his new vision enough to make its maximum impact.  As a Tim Hecker fan, however, I am perfectly fine with that: I would much rather see him stretch into bold new realms and overreach a bit than watch him continue to perfect well-worn territory.

10 April 2016

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Albums and Singles

Harpist Mary Lattimore’s excellent second solo album is the fruit of a grant-financed road trip across the US, inspired by various natural wonders along the way and recorded at several friends' houses.  While traveling around with a harp does not sound particularly convenient to me, it certainly seems like Lattimore knows how to put grant money to good use.  She also knows the fastest way to my heart, which happens to be naming an album after a Joan Didion essay.  Naturally, At The Dam is a beautiful album, as the harp is always an inherently pleasant instrument when in competent hands.  Lattimore goes much deeper than the expected lovely, rippling arpeggios though, crafting five pleasantly relaxed and languorous pieces enhanced with a healthy amount of experimentation and sublime laptop-tweakery.

Ghostly International

The album opens in fine fashion with the twinkling, sun-dappled arpeggio patterns of "Otis Walks into the Woods," a lovely elegy to Lattimore's blind dog who vanished into a forest one day.  Taken strictly as a composition, it is quite wonderful, as Lattimore slowly builds up force and forward motion while weaving overdubbed melodies into a beguiling web.  My favorite aspect, however, is the way that it gradually becomes increasingly psychedelic, as notes start subtly pinging, panning, plunging, and quivering around the central theme.  That is a very effective and evocative move, as it gives the piece the feel of an increasingly phantasmagoric journey without sacrificing any of its momentum.  Eventually, however, the structure completely dissolves into a dreamy coda of drones, pulses, and backwards harp swells and it is absolutely gorgeous: the transcendent soundtrack to a faithful dog leaving all earthly concerns behind.  The considerably shorter piece that follows ("Jimmy V") is not nearly as heartbreaking, thankfully, as it bizarrely takes it inspiration from basketball coach Jimmy Valvano.  It is still quite lovely, however, gradually evolving from somewhat straightforward harp fare (sweeping and rippling) into a wonderfully unraveled and delay-heavy coda that unexpectedly re-coheres into a final fragile, wobbly, and submerged-sounding melody.

The similarly brief "In the Quiet of Night" initially seems somewhat unexceptional, but then unexpectedly blossoms into the single most gorgeous melody on the entire album.  Also, Lattimore proves to be something of a genius with harmony and dynamics, twisting and embellishing her heavenly melody until it feels like a fluidly dancing, shimmering entity completely independent of the song’s pre-existing structure or time-signature.  Lattimore returns to more slow-burning, longform fare for At The Dam's two remaining pieces, however.  On the otherwise languorously undulating and diffuse "Jaxine Drive," she intermittently reprises the laptop tweakery of "Otis" with a vengeance, transforming a gentle reverie into something considerably more hallucinatory and insectoid.  For the most part though, "Jaxine" is a very quiet and subdued piece.  Amusingly, it sometimes seems like The Edge stopped by to lay down some atmospheric guitar coloration, which I suppose is weirdly appropriate since much of this album was recorded on a friend's porch in Joshua Tree.  All of At The Dam's pieces seem to boast some kind of "showstopper" moment though and the one for "Jaxine Drive" unexpectedly turns up after about 8-minutes: the complexly layered web of harpistry transforms into a dreamy, shimmering heaven of processed, backwards swells.  The final "Ferris Wheel, January" follows a similar trajectory, beginning with seemingly improvised sweeps of rich, reverberating arpeggios.  Gradually, however, the piece's raison d'être becomes clearer, as the increased use of looping and delay transforms it into a blissfully lysergic haze that eventually blossoms into a slow-motion, hypnagogic waltz (of sorts).

Enjoyable as it is, however, "Ferris Wheel" inadvertently highlights a couple of ways in which At The Dam could have been a better album.  For one, it clocks in at over 13 minutes, which feels like a bit much.  The material is certainly strong, but it would be even stronger if it were somewhat more distilled.  Also, there is a brief moment near the end where a field recording of either breaking waves or a passing car on a rainy street intrudes.  That fleeting moment made me realize that: 1.) I wish Lattimore had included ambient sounds from the various stages of her trip to provide a shifting sense of place, and 2.) just about every song on At The Dam relies very heavily on laptop processing for its dynamic arc.  Fortunately, Lattimore executes her mildly psychedelic enhancements very effectively, so I do not mind that she kept returning to the same well.  I just do not think that she used all of her options.  I can definitely see why she made the album the way she did, however, as there is an endearing purity and simplicity to these pieces: while there is ample evidence of processing and overdubbing, it still feels like Lattimore restricted her palette to just the sounds produced from her harp on that porch in the desert.  Also, hypothesizing about the ways in which At The Dam could be even better shifts the focus away from everything that Lattimore did beautifully.  Each of these five pieces is richly melodic, tender, and evocative and there is nary a misstep to be found, as every single one gradually gives way to at least one absolutely gorgeous passage.  While its pace admittedly meanders at times, it is hard to complain when the ultimate destination proves to be well-worth the journey.

Samples:

• Otis Walks into the Woods
• Jaxine Drive
• Ferris Wheel, January

 

09 April 2016

Administrator

Albums and Singles

"Too Many Voices is the fourth album from Andy Stott, a follow-up to 2014's Faith in Strangers (LOVE 098CD). It was recorded from 2014-2016 and sees a diverse spectrum of influences bleed into nine tracks that are as searching as they are memorable.

The album draws inspiration from the fourth-world pop of Japan's Yellow Magic Orchestra as much as it does Triton-fueled grime made 25 years later. Somewhere between these two points there's an oddly aligned vision of the future that seeps through the pores of each of the tracks. It's a vision of the future as it was once imagined; artificial, strange, and immaculate. Full of possibilities.

The album opens with the harmonized, deteriorating pads of "Waiting For You" and arcs through to the synthetic chamber pop of the closing title-track, referencing Sylvian and Sakamoto's "Bamboo Houses" (1982) as much as it does the ethereal landscapes of This Mortal Coil and Dead Can Dance. In between, the climate and palette constantly shift, taking in the midnight pop of "Butterflies"; the humid, breathless house of "First Night"; and the endlessly cascading "Forgotten." Longtime vocal contributor Alison Skidmore features on half the tracks, sometimes augmented by the same simulated materials as on the dystopian breakdown of "Selfish," and at others surrounded by beautiful synth washes, such as on the mercurial "Over" or the dreamy, neon-lit "New Romantic." It's all far removed from the digital synthesis and the abstracted intricacies that define much of the current electronic landscape. The same cybernetic palette is here implanted into more human form; sometimes cold, but more often thrumming with life."

-via Experimedia

Out April 22nd on Modern Love.

09 April 2016

Administrator

Albums and Singles

"Widely considered one of the landmark releases of dub-infused electronic music, as well as an endless resource of inspiration and awe for generations of electronic music artists and enthusiasts, Vibrant Forms II by Fluxion was originally released on Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald's revered Chain Reaction label in 2000; this cavernous masterpiece now receives its long-awaited first-ever reissue from Barcelona imprint Subwax Bcn, with newly remastered sound and new artwork.

Collecting the Prospect 12" (SUBWAXFX 001EP, 1999) and Bipolar Defect double-12" (SUBWAXFX 002LP, 2000), as well as previously unreleased tracks, Vibrant Forms II was Fluxion's second compilation on Chain Reaction, and it successfully managed to broaden the space and the environment of the compositions, as well as develop further his technique of textural sonic blend.

Keep that in mind when entering "Prospect 1," the gateway into Fluxion's deep universe, as waves crash languidly on a foggy beach early in the morning. These visions of fog, rising steam, or thick mist are archetypical for Chain Reaction and Fluxion, and they haunt the listener throughout the Vibrant Forms II experience. Sometimes these visions take the form of dream-inducing haze filling the air in dark opium dens. At other times there are heaps of white summer clouds behind the listener's eyelids, slowly being pulled apart by cool gusts of wind.

But there's more to Fluxion's music than these soothing elements. The pulse of the city is omnipresent; the sounds of organic lifeforms surging through the streets like a thick, humanoid liquid, flowing, mixing, dissolving. . . . But also the steady thumps, beats, and clicks of the city itself; the machines, the vehicles, the mechanical hearts. On the one hand, moisture and warmth. On the other, structure, logic, and aging concrete. This rare combination of hot and heavily sedated soundscapes with elements of chilling clarity and clinical precision makes Vibrant Forms II an immortal compilation. And that makes Subwax Bcn's decision to reissue it a significant act of cultural preservation."

-via Forced Exposure

09 April 2016

Administrator

Albums and Singles

"Sam Kidel’s debut for The Death of Rave is little short of a modern ambient masterpiece. Following a celebrated debut for Entr’acte in 2015, the Young Echo and Killing Sound member’s sophomore solo album is a playful, emotive inversion and subversion of Muzak - that “background noise” variously known as “hold” music, “canned” music, or “lift” music - employing government call centre workers as unknowing agents in a dreamily detached yet subtly, achingly poignant 21 minute composition, backed with a DIY instrumental in case you, at home, want to get your phreak on.

Drawing on research by the Muzak Corporation (the company who held the original license for their eponymous product), and his concurrent interests in the proto-internet technique of phreaking (experimenting or exploring telecommunication systems - Bill Gates used to do it, and thousands of kids have probably made a prank call at some point in their time), Sam played his music down the phone to the DWP and other departments, not speaking, but recording the recipient’s responses; subsequently rearranging them into the piece you hear before you.

Aesthetically, the results utilise a range of compositional styles - ambient, electro-acoustic, aleatoric - and could be said to intersect modern classical, dub and vaporware, whilst also inherently revealing a spectrum of regional British accents rarely heard on record, or in this context, at least.

But make no mistake; he’s not making fun at the expense of the call centre workers. Rather, he’s highlighting a dreamy melancholy and detachment in their tedious roles and tortuous, Kafkaesque systems, one known from first-hand experience.

Disruptive Muzak may be rooted in academia, but it’s far from pretentious. We really don't want to give it all away, but the way in which he executes the idea, both musically and conceptually by the time the final receiver drops the line, is deeply emotive without being sentimental; making tacit comment on questioning our relationship with technology, economics and socio-politics in the UK right now: in the midst of right wing policy delivering swingeing benefits cuts and zero-hours contracts which damage those on the margins most, and a scenario where corporate composition and electronic sound form a blithely ubiquitous backdrop to capitalist realism."

-via Boomkat

09 April 2016

Administrator

Albums and Singles

"Killer nexus of D&B-informed techno and dark ambient themes from Simon Shreeve, one half of Kryptic Minds, for his debut on Downwards. If you're into Regis, Demdike Stare, Raime etc - this is a must-check.

Healing Bowl forms a timely collusion between an artist and label who've been converging on a mutual mesh of gutted D&B dynamics with techno tempos and dark ambient feels for some time now. It forms Simon Shreeves’ debut release under his birth name after more than a decade of releases as part of Kryptic Minds, and more recently his techno-leaning solo output as Mønic for Tresor. A match made in techno purgatory then, Healing Bowl metes out five pensile, nerve-pinched pieces defined by finely sculpted bass, shivering percussion and cranky concrète processing.

Never showy, but with a nuanced atmospheric elegance and appreciation of proper body mechanics for the ‘floor or bedroom. A/SA falls down the trapdoor first with plummeting subs and spanked spring reverbs setting a crypt-like tone and spatial setting which bleeds thru into the title cut’s rolling swagger and strafing, daemonic silhouettes, before "A Thousand and One" locates and locks into a dank pocket of plasmic bass and spectral vocal recital. "Sharuda" follows with a ghostlier, eldritch pallor of melodic development giving rise to sepulchral harmonics amidst fizzing, prickly percussion and elliptic sub bass curves, yet the EP’s strongest dancefloor cut is saved for last with the elusive, entropic sound design of "S/KA" seeming to invert techno and D&B dynamics with vampiric lust and romance. Shreeve has evidently found an empathetic and steadfast partner in Downwards. Here’s to a lasting relationship."

-via Boomkat

06 April 2016

Administrator

Albums and Singles