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I have long been a great admirer of Tom Ellard's prickly, erratic, and singular genius, but I completely slept on this deluxe reissue from Medical Records for much of the year, as I did not recall 1985's Stretcher EP as being particularly crucial or something that I would ever need to own on vinyl.  In that regard, I was mostly correct, but I was unaware that Stretcher had surfaced in so many different variations or that consolidating them all would yield an excellent double album.  Therein lays the genius of this reissue, as such an absolute avalanche of classic material from this era packs a lot of cumulative power.  In fact, this is probably the best single documentation of Severed Heads' golden age available: the brief window in the mid-'80s where Ellard’s deranged and perverse experimentalism started to take shape into eccentric and hook-filled pop structures.
The bizarre story of Stretcher makes my head spin, as it stands as an especially convoluted release in the canon of an artist whose discography is a messy labyrinth of long-dead record companies, self-curated CDR reissues, and differing international versions of seemingly everything.  Stretcher was originally intended as kind of an accessible sampler designed to optimistically break the band in the US, but then the idea and format transformed as the release was pitched for other markets, resulting in a Canadian EP, a differing UK EP, and (of course) a different LP for the band's home country of Australia.  Naturally, combining four commercially minded releases by a mostly rather difficult and unmarketable band makes for quite a bizarre and interesting grab bag.
A lot of the pieces included in Stretcher's various incarnations were new songs written specifically for the release, but anyone familiar with Severed Heads at all will likely recognize the inevitable "Dead Eyes Opened" and "Petrol," both of which appear in remixed form.  There is also a demo version of The Big Bigot's "Harold and Cindy Hospital."  Also, if I am not crazy, I think there are some sneakily re-titled songs that appeared in other forms elsewhere, as "New Explosions" is an altered version of City Slab Horror's "Now, An Explosive New Movie."  The vinyl version apparently includes helpful background information on each of these pieces, which belatedly seems like a reference I could benefit from.  Alas.  Despite all the real and possibly imagined recycling here, 1985 was unquestionably a compelling and creatively fertile time for the band, as remaining second member Stephen Jones turned Severed Heads' shows into a video-centric multimedia events while Ellard started dabbling in MIDI synthesizers for the first time, setting the stage for the more pristine and conventionally musical synth-pop that was to come later.
For Stretcher, however, Ellard's blossoming pop craftsmanship was still gloriously at odds with his zeal for amusingly obsessive use of samples and grainy tape experiments.  Even the somewhat unabashed stabs at pop are still extremely damn weird, as the upbeat and hooky would-be single "Halo" degenerates into a wonderful cacophony of piled up samples (including one of a man falling down the stairs and possibly an angry cartoon duck).  Also, Ellard’s brilliantly annoying sense of humor is still capable of making me smirk 30 years later, particularly as exhibited in the groove built from a woman’s surprised yelp in "Oscar’s Grind" or the obsessive and chopped repetition of the title phrase in "Don't Say It."  The latter is also a fine example of Ellard's singular ability to turn something initially obnoxious into something weirdly beautiful, as the sample gradually becomes surrounded by a vibrant and harmonically rich swirl of swooping and see-sawing tones.
While nearly all of the pieces included are shot through with some kind of deranged inspiration, it is the inclusion of "Blast Platter" and "Spurned" that makes this an absolutely crucial release for anyone interested in Ellard's work, as both easily stand among the greatest pieces that he has ever composed.  "Blast Platter' is a shuffling, brooding, and concise "pop" song built upon what sounds like a gibbering and warped opera sample.  While I love the sample, the rest of the song is even more perfect, as it unexpectedly erupts into a gorgeous synth motif and boasts a surprisingly understated and haunting chorus.  If I played it for a friend and they did not sufficiently appreciate it, I would demand to know when their soul died.  "Spurned," on the other hand, goes in the complete opposite direction, weaving a ghostly web of collaged female classical vocal loops into a ten-minute epic that resembles an industrial-damaged Lisa Gerrard piece heard through a heavy fog of drugs.
Naturally, there are some elements to this material that can reasonably be considered primitive or dated (particularly the beats), but I personally find them largely endearing.  I suppose it could also be argued that Stretcher could do without re-heated and over-familiar material like the 12" remixes of the bands' "hits," yet those pieces probably provide a welcome foothold for newer listeners to embrace until the weirder, less accessible bits start to burrow into their subconscious.  Ultimately, it is those weird bits that make Severed Heads special: Stretcher does not always capture Ellard at the top of his songwriting game, but it does capture an aesthetic zenith of sorts, as this is the ephemeral sweet spot where deranged experimentation, burgeoning pop instincts, and general ballsiness were in perfect harmony.  Stretcher's true charm lies in how compellingly and consistently Ellard manages wrest sublime beauty from obstinate contrarianism, a gleefully impish sense of humor, and unfettered imagination.  The results are sometimes messy, clunky, or amusingly annoying, but they never sound like anyone else and the occasional moments where everything falls gloriously into place make it all worthwhile.  Medical Records has truly achieved a feat of curatorial wizardry here, assembling far-flung odds n' ends into an album that rivals or surpasses most of Severed Heads' acknowledged classic albums like City Slab Horror or Since the Accident.  While it is admittedly possible that the novelty of this material is still clouding my generally unerring judgment, I happily pair this album with Cuisine as one of the two most essential releases in the Severed Heads discography.
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Holly Herndon's Movement is the debut offering of material by the young musician, modernist, and machinist.
Restless for reckless cultural immersion, Herndon left her Johnson City, Tennessee home as a teenager for Berlin, Germany. For several years, Herndon lived and learned techno music as party dweller and performer, eventually returning wide-minded to the States to pursue a Masters in Electronic Music at Mills College. Under the guidance of network pioneer John Bischoff, Roscoe Mitchell, and Maggi Payne, Herndon pursued her experiments with processed voice and explored embodiment in electronic music, earning the Elizabeth Mills Crothers award for best composer in 2011.
Started at the end of Herndon's studies, Movement is a test chamber that hybridizes her modern composition training and undying devotion to club music. To this extent, the influences of Maryanne Amacher and Galina Ustvolskaya are as prevalent in Herndon's music as Pan Sonic and Berlin and Birmingham 90s techno. Still, in line with pop deconstructionists Laurie Anderson and Art of Noise, Movement is purposefully positioned to reach new ears beyond a niche.
Honoring a strong tradition of computer composition from Stockhausen to Florian Hecker, Herndon is unapologetic about using a machine as her primary instrument. She builds most of her own instruments and vocal effects in the visual programming language Max/MSP, and sees it as a principled part of her practice to push the most modern processors to their limits.
"The laptop is the most intimate instrument we have at our disposal, engaging and absorbing our confessions and inspirations" says Herndon. "Its influence has both devastated and invigorated music as we know it. We've only just begun unlocking the possibilities at our fingertips. Those possibilities are what I work towards and against."
Incorporating themes of presence and physicality / flux and futurity within said musical expressions and tool set, Movement translates the Avant-Garde into what Herndon fundamentally considers "life practice." Movement opens with the malfunctioning hum and cyborg stutter of "Terminal." "Breathe," a minimalist articulation of data complexity within the human voice, informs the processing of Herndon's own vocal melodies in the syncopated house track "Fade."
The collection’s centerpiece "Movement" is about human-computer symbiosis and musically re-imagines what is perceived as "natural" atop a vigilant acid grind. "Dilato" drifts the live baritone vocal stream of Bruce Rameker through a slight digital process to curious mortal frays.
Herndon's ability to sharp turn from synthetic psychosis to hard-coded human sensuality allows Movement approachability for any listener knowingly or unknowingly seeking technological enlightenment. For those listeners escaping grid integration for holistic antiquity, keep a copy of Movement handy. You'll need the manual for reconfiguration later.
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Exactly one year on from his last album, Steve Hauschildt returns with his most commanding work to date. Dense and lush arrangements conjure introspective atmospheres that reveal not only his contribution to the band Emeralds, but his ever-evolving strengths as a solo artist. Recorded in Vancouver and Cleveland, nearly 20 different instruments were culled from the 1960s to the present. This lends the album a much wider palette than its predecessor, Tragedy & Geometry. It is still, however, a logical follow-up to that work as the title Sequitur subtly implies. Because of its rich instrumentation, there are classic yet cutting-edge soundscapes fashioned out of the idiosyncrasies innate to the copious synthesizers, drum machines, and vocal processing used on the album. A substantial work, Hauschildt hones in on the place of voice and androgyny in music.
From Steve Hauschildt: "I was very interested in the artificiality of vocal or choir-like sounds that emulate a person or group singing, and how this has evolved with the advancement of musical technology over the decades. I also sang myself and used a vocoder. This was not to sound robotic or to auto-tune notes, but instead used to remove the connotations of gender inherent in the vocal formants that define how we naturally assign gender qualities to sounds, particularly the human voice. It was interesting to discover that certain replicable sounds become 'androgynous' when they carry both masculine and feminine characteristics. I was inspired to carry this idea into music mainly because of the work of Camille Paglia, Rosalind Picard and Donna Haraway. In a sense, the album treads the imaginary boundary between Nature and Artifice. Of course it is within a postmodern trajectory, but not necessarily a statement on cyborg theory or feminism. Rather, Sequitur is a musical domain where these ideas freely collide and coalesce to form emotive states for the listener."
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Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe has been through many shifts in his musical career, from playing with influential Chicago rockers 90 Day Men and forging haunting vocal drones as Lichens all the way to becoming a member of transcendent rockers Om and collaborating with Lucky Dragons and Doug Aitken, and Timon Irnok Manta marks the beginning of a brand new stage in his process. Recorded under his full name and based on fabled British science fiction series "The Tomorrow People," the record establishes Lowe’s format perfectly, with a single mantra-like piece followed by a 'version' in classic dub fashion."‘M'Bondo" follows closely in the footsteps of Lowe's recent slew of highly limited private-press releases, taking tumbling electrified rhythms and setting them up against slowly modulating analogue patterns, gradually building into something even more revenant. A far cry from the maximalist synthesizer music that has come to represent the norm, this is bass-heavy and precariously stripped bare, leaving only skeletons of influence and form.
On "M'Bondo (version)" we are given a closer look into Lowe's wide range of influences as he touches on Aphex Twin's Selected Ambient Works II, early Popul Vuh and Rhythm and Sound in one fell swoop. The basic building blocks of the original track are still present, but graced with Lowe's unmistakable voice and punctuated by warbling tape hiss and chilling echoes. This is a brave step from one of the most compelling voices in experimental music, and the beginning of what promises to be a very rich musical seam.
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As much as I love Throbbing Gristle, I've long viewed them as a Marcel Duchamp-like entity: bold, brilliant, and hugely influential, but dramatically less potent outside of their original context and in the wake of everyone who later built upon their vision. After a deep re-immersion in their work, however, I can honestly say that several pieces still sound remarkably vital even today and that this album remains a condensed and inspiring blueprint for being awesome (albeit an imperfect one).
I generally view "greatest hits" albums with apathy (bordering on hostility) whenever "serious" music is concerned, no matter how much irony is involved.  In this case, I was always perplexed by the need to assemble a "best of" retrospective from essentially just two albums (D.O.A. And 20 Jazz Funk Greats) that stand on their own as complete artistic statements and don't need to be culled for their high points.  Also, the aforementioned high points here are somewhat dubious, incomplete, and lean disproportionally heavily towards 20 Jazz Funk Greats: Second Annual Report is only represented by a backwards version of "Slug Bait," which I don't mind terribly much, but D.O.A. is woefully underrepresented (which I do actually mind).  Also, I can't understand how a Throbbing Gristle retrospective can possibly fail to include answering machine recordings of death threats.
Despite all that, I still find this album charming, mostly owing to the exotica-themed art (particularly the picture of the band wearing aloha shirts and grinning) and Claude "Kickboy Face" Bessy's rambling and over-exuberant stream-of-consciousness liner notes.  Also, it admittedly provides a broad-stroke overview of a remarkably varied and innovative career: pre-Sonic Youth guitar noise ("Six Six Sixties," one of my favorites), proto-power electronics ("Subhuman"), twinkling proto-synth pop ("Ab/7a"), queasy faux-dub ("20 Jazz Funk Greats"), proto-techno ("Adrenalin"), and blunt, unapologetic ugliness ("Hamburger Lady").  It is "Hamburger Lady" that might be the single most important piece on the album for me, as it is so beautifully sick, uncomfortable, and self-sabotaging.  I can't think of any other songs that so brazenly make it clear that a band does not care at all whether or not anyone likes them–I still smile every time I hear it.
As this is part of TG's deluxe reissue series, there are some features that differentiate this version from its previous incarnations and make it something of a noteworthy event.  In theory, the big one is that Chris Carter has painstakingly remastered everything.  He did a fine job, of course–the album sounds vibrant and crisp.  However, that only truly matters on the synth-based pop excursions.  It is hard to imagine anybody being especially concerned about the fidelity of grinding, primitivist sludge like "Subhuman" or the dumb, murky rock of "Zyklon B Zombie."
For me, the big surprise was that the CD version contains essentially another full disc of "great hits" and rarities.  There are a couple of alternate mixes that haven't been released before for obsessive fans ("The Old Man Smiled" and "Ab/7a"), but they aren't wildly different from the originals or particularly revelatory in any way.  Still, "The Old Man Smiled" definitely belongs on any Throbbing Gristle retrospective (even if it is basically an alternate version of "Six Six Sixties"), so an injustice has been righted as far as I am concerned.  More important to me is that fact that it compiles a handful of non-album songs from Throbbing Gristle's singles, so Greatest Hits now includes all of them except "Something Came Over Me."  That is obviously quite nice from a convenience and completeness perspective, but one of those stragglers is actually one of my favorite TG songs of all time, the darkly shimmering synth pop of "Distant Dreams (Part Two)."
Also, I was extremely pleased that the one regular album song added to this reissue is "Persuasion," which highlights an aspect of the band that I had forgotten about: Genesis P-Orridge may seem like an affable eccentric now, but he could be an extremely magnetic and unnerving presence in his younger years (particularly when he was at his most deadpan).  It was very easy to understand why Throbbing Gristle were deemed "Wreckers of Civilization" after hearing him lecherously expound on panties.  Being shocking and provocative is always far more effective when it is done in a bored-sounding and casual manner–it seems ingrained and sincere rather than an attention-getting affectation.
There are, of course, several songs that have not aged especially well here.  Also, a lot of the more pop-based themes were later greatly improved upon by Chris and Cosey. And, of course, Peter Christopherson went on to do similarly aberrant, but far more sophisticated work with Coil: this album merely summarizes one early phase in the lives of four individuals that continued to evolve and release compelling work for another three decades.  Nevertheless, Throbbing Gristle achieved an utterly unique chemistry during their best moments that is still apparent today and many of those moments are here: a song like "What A Day" is so viscerally simple in its bludgeoning repetition and directness that it is difficult to envision it ever sounding passé.  This may not be a perfect retrospective (nothing about TG was ever perfect), but it is definitely a very good one and it has never looked or sounded better.
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"I recorded these songs with cellist Isabel Castellvi in preparation for our fall tour. Some of them were written as part of my current Song-of-the-Week project. Versions on the EP (with the exception of "Trophies") are different than those released through the project."
“Recording with Travis (engineer) and Isabel was enjoyable, ease-y. We recorded the songs live, meaning we played together in the same room, no overdubs. Each take was subtly different, and we might prefer cello on one and vocals on another…but with live recording we gave up perfectionism and listened for spirit."
--Diane
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The Legendary Pink Dots are back with their highly anticipated new album.
Chemical Playschool is a concept in which more then ever an indulgence in extended ballads and psychedelic improvisations allows Edward Ka-Spel's voice to engage us with his unique brand of storytelling, and the use of synthesizers brings to mind vintage space rock adapted for the modern age.
The album opens with the beautifully epic "Immaculate Conception" where Ka-Spel transports us into a world of stars and planets surrounded by voices and distant echos. In "The Opium Den Parts 1-3" we find a melancholy piece with classic LPD folk essence, arriving then at the ritual tribal ballad "Ranting and Raving."
Chemical Playschool is able to surpass all of our expectations for a band always able to surprise as they lead us through their peculiar dream world. A truly inspired release representing one of the most beautiful concepts created by this eclectic and mythic band.
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The Part Time Punks Radio Sessions 12" by HTRK and Tropic of Cancer holds six sublime songs of desire.
Comparable to a fly-on-a-wall Peel Sessions, the critically acclaimed Part Time Punks radio show is the sound of the LA underground, run by local icon Michael Stock.
The limited split captures both bands live at the radio headquarters during HTRK's first 2011 tour of the USA, accompanied by comrades in minimalism and melancholia, Tropic of Cancer.
Flipping this vinyl sounds like two sides of the same cursed coin, and mirrors a high school dance playing an endless lustful waltz. BPMs bumped down to a psychic stalk. It's a broken and beautiful memento.
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This is a simple, yet effective deconstruction of electronic dance music. With Senni's love of house and techno music clearly on display, he strips the clichés of the genre down to their barest essentials, showcasing an intentionally repetitive series of almost fragmented tracks. While at times the repetition can become a bit too tedious, overall the results are quite unique.
The album is made up of real time live recordings via MIDI with no overdubbing after the fact, using only a single synthesizer as the instrumentation.Interestingly, Senni sticks to the more melodic, rather than the rhythmic building blocks of dance music, which are usually the focus of the genre.There is nary a 909 kick drum to be heard, and a standard beat only appears on two of the five tracks, albeit heavily buried amidst the synths.
Instead, the focus is on tight synth arpeggio leads: the traditional build-up component for most tracks, isolated and repeated without ever reaching the expected climax.The descending pulses of "Xmonsterx" stick with an occasionally numbing amount of repetition, but eventually the key range becomes spread out further, and the pacing is slowly tweaked and modified into something noticeably different."Windows of Vunerability" follows a similar tact, but adds in a simple, snappy rhythm to pair with the melody.There is a slight, but perceptional variation on the beat until its conclusion, where things get all stuttering and inconsistent.
Lorenzo Senni mixes it up a little more on "Makebelieve" and "Digital ‚àû Tzunami." The former emphasizes rhythm more than melody, with chaotic, but structured loops that possess a digitally ragged, eight bit quality to them at times.On "Digital Tzunami," Senni matches a squeaky synth sequence with a buried lower-end thump, offsetting the higher pitched sounds quite nicely.
There are definitely times where the intensive, intentional repetition of Quantum Jelly begins to get a little much, especially on the 13 minute "Xmonsterx."At these times the balance between conceptual and enjoyable starts to shift in the wrong direction for my tastes.However, the shorter, more diverse pieces on the second side of the record go a long way in keeping things fresh, isolating and freezing in time the moments of electronic music we all know, but never consider solely on their own.
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On these two live performances, this duo (that previously performed together as Overhang Party) serves up two slow, drifting pieces that hover into minimalist and dissonant spaces, but never stopping or becoming stagnant, weaving together strings and electronics into a mixture that is surprisingly complex and rich for live recordings.
The title piece, recorded last year in Tokyo, emphasizes Fukuoka's cello and violin at first, conjuring a slow, but distinct and deliberate beauty that, even as it builds in complexity, remains tastefully understated.Sachiko's electronics eventually fortify it into a denser, bassier tone before opening it up into a more dissonant, noisy space.It never goes too far into harshness, however, and soon reduces back to a sparse, rhythmic throb to close the track.
The second, "Prayer of a Fool 2011," recorded in Paris, emphasizes the electronic end of the duo’s sound more, mixing rising and falling synth layers with blurry, out of focus voices.Rather than the slow, drifting propulsion of the other performance, this one has a distinctly sad, melodic quality to it.Monastic vocals only add to the overall somber feeling, but it soon evolves into a more dissonant world of guttural noise and sci-fi squelches.The closing moments lean more into solemn loops and shortwave radio static.
Were it not for the applause at the end of the second piece, I would have had no idea that it was a live performance as it has all of the complexity and structure of a studio work.While there is a lugubrious craw to both tracks, it is completely fitting, and never does it drag too slow, it instead emphasizes the restrained, ascetic mood.√°TOMO‚àë is an atmospheric suite of acoustic and electronic sound that manages to both satisfy the worlds of drone and more dissonant noise.
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Releasing an entire album consisting of only percussion is never an easy task, but Krakowiak proves that he can stand toe to toe with any of the more established artists in the field, mangling his drums into sounds that more often than not only have a ghost of a resemblance to what I had expected. At times pensive, other times aggressive, there is not a dull moment to be heard on Moulins.
"Crowds Skating, Nathan Philips Square" melds percussion into a purely metallic monstrosity.Scrapes and grinds pile atop one another like the sounds of a collapsing sheet metal factory, and often feel like the more aggressive moments of early Organum stretched out for an entire track.Tomasz Krakowiak attempts a more traditional noise sound with "Approaching Miller's Creek," by a reverberated blast that sounds like the inside of a metal tube rolling down a steep hill, made even harsher with some late appearing shrill outbursts.
Pieces like "February, Stream in High Park" and "Moulins" might be a bit less aggressive, but no less obtuse than the others."February, Stream in High Park" is a jumbled, mechanical like clattering that sounds more like a large idling engine rather than any traditional musical instrument.The title track is more just a collage of deep, bassy rumbles that, knowing its percussion I can hear the resemblance, but if I did not know, I would not have made that assumption.
Krakowiak also works in a healthy dose of subtlety, keeping things fresh and diverse."Never Ending Wait for Train to Pass, Six Nations Reserve, Ontario" begins with a loud crash, but the bulk of the work simply captures the sustained hum and vibration, sustaining it into an understated, rather beautiful piece of sparse drone."Waiting For Train, Six Nations Reserve, Ontario" is only metallic ringing, mixing in what sounds like some digital signal processing.It is not necessarily a relaxing piece, but it does end the disc on a more open ended, spacious note.
The pacing and variety of Moulins is what makes it such a strong album. Tomasz Krakowiak hits that perfect point between sonic transformation and over-processing, mixing the percussion sounds into different beasts entirely, but all the while still retaining some vestiges of their source.While the song titles may seem more indicative of a field recording work, it feels more like an audio journey, with Tomasz recreating the sounds and sights of his travels using just a drum kit. This is no small feat considering how well he does at achieving that goal.
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- February, Stream in High Park
- Crowds Skating, Nathan Philips Square
- Waiting for Train, Six Nations Reserve, Ontario
 
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