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Pat Maherr is best known for his dark ambient detournements of Wagner cassettes as Indignant Senility, but his Expressway Yo-Yo Dieting project is probably as far from dwarves and valkyries as it is possible to get. In fact, the only common ground between his two guises is that something is being unrecognizably mangled and that there are probably some tapes involved. The "somethings" in this case are: a bunch of hip-hop songs, DJ Screw's legacy, and the whole mixtape tradition. Maherr has mischievously stripped 13 unnamed hip hop jams of everything fun and vibrant and turned them into the soundtrack for a slow-motion house party of the damned (which, of course, is perversely fun in its own right).
Bubblethug is an album that makes an immediate impact.I was passingly familiar with DJ Screw's codeine-fueled chopped-and-screwed aesthetic before I heard this album, but that did not quite prepare me for what Maherr has done.DJ Screw merely made songs sound a little drugged and eerie—Pat has gone so far down into the rabbit hole with slowed tempos and pitch-shifting that it is almost impossible to imagine what these hapless songs sounded like before they were "remixed."All that is left is a glacial beat being buffeted by impossibly slow, deep, and incomprehensible vocals that bubble, shudder, stretch, crackle, and quaver nightmarishly.
The overall effect lies somewhere between "sounds like a tape that has gone through a washing machine and possibly a fire" and "demonic possession."The songs all sound fairly similar to one another due to the nature of the project, but Bubblethug works best when Maherr takes on songs with strong hooks, like he does in the sixth song.When an actual vocal melody is ruined, the effect can be quite spectral and disquieting—it sounds a lot like my stereo is haunted.Most of the time, however, Pat just opts for straight-up rap vocals and the results vary a bit.Often, they are just disorienting and a little creepy, but sometimes they can get pretty phantasmagoric or even outright disturbing…like the vocalist is desperately trying to communicate something important to me while they are being dragged underwater.Maherr also makes an amusing and effective stab at the genre's trash-talking convention, as the seventh song actually allows an understandable line to slip through the maelstrom: "everybody's thinkin' they twisted."They are not twisted.Not like Pat.
The only catch is that Maherr did not fare quite as well at maintaining my attention as he did at grabbing it.After the initial impact of the audacious wrongness of this album subsided a bit, it started to yield rapidly diminishing returns.The reason for this is that Maherr simply did too effective of a job in his destruction of the source material—very few hooks survive and nearly all lyrical content is obliterated. Bubblethug is almost an hour of slooooooow hip hop beats and garbled, ruined voices and little else, which becomes grueling after a while.On rare occasions, like on the excellent opening song, enough of ravaged original melody and beat survive to carry the song, but too often Maherr relies solely on mindfuckery.Taken in small doses, this is a thoroughly ingenious and entertaining effort, but Pat needs to find something else to fill the inherent void if this project to going to have much long-term potential.That grievance aside, Bubblethug is still striking and deranged enough to wind up being an influential work.
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This is already the 15th release in Staalplaat's exhaustive Muslimgauze archive series, but it looks like Bryn Jones has not yet run out of minor posthumous surprises to share with the world. Originally recorded in 1995, but never released, Lazhareem Ul Leper is a series of heavy percussion experiments that stylistically fits somewhere between Jones' harsher post-industrial moments and the hypnotically looping ethno-percussion vamps that he was exploring around that same time. The unexpected twist is that it sounds like Bryn flirted with incorporating some IDM influences here as well.
There are two things that make Lazhareem Ul Leper a bit of an unusual Muslimgauze album.The first is that there is not much in the way of mood.My favorite Muslimgauze albums tend to be those infused with a sense of dread or menace, and that element is conspicuously absent here.Leper does not offer a different atmosphere, just lots of ribcage-rattling break beats and insistent Middle Eastern-tinged percussion loops. Bryn's use of field recordings is atypically sparing here, but he thankfully employs them just enough to make it clear that this is still a Muslimgauze album. The second unusual aspect is the prominence of obviously synthetic contemporary dance music textures and Aphex Twin-style inhuman drum fills.In fact, the opening piece ("Aquamareez") sounds like a sputtering volcano of blurting, squiggling laser noises erupting in the middle of a drum circle.Generally, Muslimgauze only sounds either "organic" or "heavily distorted:" it is pretty unexpected to find any overlap with something that would be playing at a dance club. Given Bryn’s work ethic, insular vision,and voluminous output, it is difficult to imagine where he found the time to absorb new influences. My only guess is that a fire or flood must've forced him out of his studio for a couple hours that year.
I am not sure that the laser noises and synth bleeps were always a great idea, but the percussion flurries make a welcome addition to the Muslimgauze sound, especially since Jones managed to "ethnify" them and make them his own.Probably the best use is the machine-gun fill slipped into the fairly straightforward hip-hop beat of"Apricot Zoom Buddha."The fills are bit wilder and more unpredictable in the following piece ("Chaikhana"), but "Apricot" is the album's clear high-water mark, largely due to its dynamic variation and woozy backwards shimmer.The few aberrant songs that completely dispense with the album's percussive focus are also quite likable, if somewhat incidental.I particularly liked the overlapping kalimbas (I think) in "Cayenne Dupatta" and the lurching, laser noise-ravaged drone piece that closes the album ("Karakum Burqa").Neither quite transcends the "one idea equals one song" aesthetic that dominates the album, but they are welcome and inspired oases from the endless groove onslaught.
Jones' devotion to the beat on this album is often pretty single-minded and unwavering, a trait that I find frustrating about many Muslimgauze albums.Bryn certainly had a knack for splicing together very cool and often very complicated grooves, but here it seems that he was often satisfied solely with that, as songs like "Degla Ennour" and "Mezes" don't enhance their beats with much more than a smear of heavily-reverbed color.I don't quite understand what Jones was trying to do here: much of Leper could plausibly be rhythmic sketches that he never got around to fleshing out, or perhaps intermediate versions of finished works that wound up elsewhere (such as on Izlamaphobia).Then again, he may have been deliberately exploring the hypnotic potential of mechanically repeating, unadulterated percussion loops.Regardless, it doesn't work particularly well.A lot of the songs feel like a single groove or melodic fragment looped for an arbitrary amount of time with little progression or change in density.There are a lot of good ideas here, but very few make the leap into good songs.This is not the best place to start for anyone looking to dip their toes into the vast and daunting Muslimgauze oeuvre, but seasoned Muslimgauze fans will certainly find a few new gems to add to the pile.
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Michael Gira founded Swans some 27 years ago. Time has brought a measure of nuance and versatility, but the raw, inhuman power of the band persists, even as many of their more lauded peers have succumbed to nostalgia or exhaustion. Pure tenacity, as much as loud guitars and violent lyrics, is what gives the new album the brute force that is characteristic of Swans at their best.
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Michael Gira founded Swans some 27 years ago. Time has brought a measure of nuance and versatility, but the raw, inhuman power of the band persists, even as many of their more lauded peers have succumbed to nostalgia or exhaustion. Pure tenacity, as much as loud guitars and violent lyrics, is what gives the new album the brute force that is characteristic of Swans at their best.
If anything, My Father… is a reassertion of principles on which Swans was founded. The anger, fear, and contempt of their earliest records still lingers, embodied in one unmistakable element: the impossibly dense wall of molten guitar noise generated by Gira and longtime Swans member Norman Westberg. The blunted, lurching style they developed remains unmistakable. "Jim," a tale of urban bitterness and revenge, demonstrates that the dynamic still has legs. The song begins rapturously, with images heavenly ascension and paradise, and then devolves into a murderous rampage as the eponymous character finally settles his scores. "Let’s strangle the mayor at the top of the stairs/Let’s piss on the city that burns down there," Gira sneers as a lead-footed waltz beat circles around him, the band’s skill at pulverizing audience resurrected intact.
Despite the heaviness, Swans still manage to insert slivers of beauty into what seems like an impenetrable storm. Mandolin and vibraphone embellishments flitter through the loudest guitar squalls. My Father… is intense both in volume and clarity. That is not to say that the record lacks moments of simple and unadorned beauty. The lyrical coda to "Inside Madeline" finds Gira waxing unabashedly cosmic. "The engine divine is inside Madeline/The star dust is yellow and red/And it’s mapping out time inside of her head," he sings, the moment resembling his more delicate work with the Angels of Light.
My Father… also makes use of another more recent development in Gira’s career, his free use of irony to poke fun at his fearsome artistic persona. "Reeling the Liars In" is at once a bloodthirsty call for honesty and parody of bitter old age. There is something almost goofy in the way that he deadpans, "The only true thing/the place to begin/is to burn up the liar pile." Of course, Gira implicates himself as well, changing the words from "the liars" to "this liar." This disarming clash between arrogance and humility make the song a standout track of the album.
Included in the deluxe version of My Father… is a second disk of outtakes, vocal fragments, and instrumental tracks sewn together in a continuous mix. Though not essential for enjoying the parent album, the disk is a rewarding listen nonetheless. The disembodied voices and phantom instruments recall the widescreen audio surrealism of albums like Soundtracks for the Blind.
When he announced that Swans were reforming, Gira justified his decision vigorously, in advance of any criticism that he was going soft or cashing in. He needn’t be so defensive. The results speak for the wisdom of that decision. Furthermore, the excitement generated some long overdue interest in a band that is often pointedly overlooked. My Father… has all the elements that make Swans a challenging and ultimately rewarding group.
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I can't tell if this is a Swans album or an Angels of Light record in disguise. Maybe it's both. Maybe it doesn't matter one bit. In the years between Swans Are Dead and My Father, Gira released several solo acoustic records, a "pop" collaboration with Dan Matz, a "split" with Akron/Family, and five diverse Angels records. That 12 year run concluded with We Are Him, an album that might have been where Swans would have ended up had the project not been terminated. After listening many times to this multifaceted return from the dead, I still can't determine what makes these songs more deserving of the Swans moniker than any of Gira's other post-avian recordings.
There are two absolutely perfect songs on My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky: "No Words/No Thoughts" and "You Fucking People Make Me Sick." Both combine Swans's most notorious qualities with something new and unexpected, which is what I wanted from this album more than anything else. Swans never stopped changing during their 16-year existence, both in terms of personnel and style, so part of me thought (and hoped) that Gira's return to the Swans name meant that something very different was forthcoming. Change and purity of vision are practically the only things that didn't change about Swans between 1982 and now.
For this record I half-imagined a continuation of Soundtracks for the Blind, with disparate tangents, more obtuse song structures, and probably lots more noise composing most of the record. Both the aforementioned songs deliver something along those lines, but in surprising ways. Instead of featuring tape loops, synthesizer noise, and spoken word samples, Gira highlights acoustic noise, abrupt stylistic changes, and heavily layered instrumental passages that are miles away from what is heard on Soundtracks, or even Swans Are Dead. That said, Gira has populated his most recent record with more familiar sounds than alien ones. Were the entire record like the bonus disc packaged with some versions of My Father, I think my reaction would be more glowing, but I'll say more about that in a second. So far as the primary music is concerned, there's much on it that reminds me of Gira's past. That's not necessarily so surprising, though. Phil Puelo, Christoph Hahn, and Thor Harris were all members of Angels of Light at one time or another, so hearing bits and pieces of the Angels' sound on this record seems perfectly natural. And the same can be said about the songs that sound more unquestionably like Swans. Norman Westberg, Hahn, and Puelo were all Swans members, too, and all of them had a significant influence on the way the band sounded (Westberg probably more than any other).
With all that in mind, my expectations about how Swans should sound begin to look a little silly. The group weaves in and out of heavier, more obviously physical music and lighter, more ornate songs throughout the record, generally favoring the big sounds most commonly associated with Swans. Several places feature a very strong Angels of Light influence, however. Specifically, songs more focused on melody, like "Reeling the Liars In" and "Little Mouth," are reminiscent of Angels without being imitations. They are quieter, of course, but the difference between Angels and Swans can't easily be reduced to qualities like volume or intensity. Remember that Angels of Light had several intense songs of their own, one of which led directly to the creation of this record (and "All Souls' Rising" is just as powerful as anything in the Swans discography, if you ask me). Other songs, like "Jim," "You Fucking People Make Me Sick," and "Inside Madeline" are split between percussion-heavy, driving passages and hushed, frequently pacifying melodies, thereby avoiding a simple loud/soft or Swans/Angels classification. Gira has said in interviews that this is "unmistakably" a Swans record, but I have to disagree. It is unmistakably a record by Michael Gira, it just happens to have the Swans name affixed to it.
Gira has also suggested that he isn't completely happy with this record. In one interview he called himself "cowardly" because he didn't go far enough with "No Words/No Thoughts," whatever that might mean. That's far too strong a critique, because no matter how much this makes me think of Angels of Light or even Michael's solo work, what he and his band have created is a concise and unlikely record of eight excellent songs. Whether Swans or "Michael Gira and the Young God Collective" is responsible for the music, there's a ton of energy and power on this record that I'm excited to hear generated in a live setting. There's also a few unexpected expressions and tangents to be found on the record, so this isn't just a war between Michael's many musical personalities. Swans has an almost sacred reputation thanks to the quality of their many records and the integrity of Gira's approach to art and music, and much of what he's done since then has fallen in the shadow of that renown. My Father manages to call attention to the many similarities between Swans and Angels of Light, and it highlights the quality of everything Michael has done since Swans Are Dead, whether his band consisted of Akron/Family or a more diverse cast. The distance between all of Gira's work has been collapsed beneath the diversity and quality of this release, and the band names affiliated with each record are now, in most cases, just a matter of history and convenience. This is all the work of Michael Gira.
Michael may think he didn't go far enough with My Father (and I may agree), but he definitely traveled into abstract and more satisfying realms with "Look At Me Go," a 46-minute bonus disc included with certain copies of the new album. It is one long pastiche consisting of rhythms, melodies, and sounds from My Father, with the addition of non-album elements like moaning voices, looped pianos, feedback, synthesizer noise, and extra vocal performances from Gira's daughter. Part of me feels like this is where Michael ultimately wants to go with Swans. It sounds more like the natural sibling to Soundtracks for the Blind and it puts into practice what Gira has said about his lyrics and hearing himself sing (apparently he's sick of hearing himself, so he vocalizes only briefly before being overwhelmed by the noise featured on "You Fucking People Make Me Sick"). It is, in some ways, many times more brutal than anything on My Father and far more adventurous, too. Yet, Gira has decided it has only secondary or "bonus" importance, which means I'm left waiting for a proper Swans record that goes completely off the deep end and explores the more abstract ideas highlighted on "Look At Me Go." My Father may not be what I expected or even wanted, but more than any heavy riffing or overpowering rhythm, that's precisely why I can accept that this is a Swans record. If I see an Angels of Light/Swans split project in the future, though, my head might just explode.
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It has been twenty years since Laetitia Sadier and Tim Gane formed Stereolab. Sadier's voice remains a classic hypnotic sound and on her first solo record The Trip she meditates on change and loss in a personal response to her life's journey and in particular the death of her younger sister, Noelle.
The Trip was made in two sessions with the help of Rebecca Gates, Richard Swift, and April March, as well as Julien Gasc and Emmanuel Mario, who collaborated on Sadier's project Monade. Stereolab and Monade relied heavily upon the complex qualities in Sadier's voice. She always manages to sound detached and intellectual yet with an extremely subtle sense of warmth and passion so effortless as to appear almost unconscious. This paradoxical combination draws us as easily as a magnet pulls iron filings.
Stereolab merged Brazilian and German influences with Reichian repetition and created their own instantly recognizable musical world. The voice of Sadier (and the equally important Mary Hansen) often shared the mix in an effective but democratic sound where they were only allowed to be as important as any other instrument. Maybe that is why audiences could hum along to their songs while seeming to miss the meaning of words. An obvious example is "Outer Accelerator," which cheerfully intoned "In whatever society, there invariably will seem to be just a few men keen to rule; overwhelming the majority will assent and allow them to do so." Equally, "Ping Pong" laid out a clear case against the brutality of the military industrial complex and its economic cycles: "It's alright 'cause the historical pattern has shown, how the economical cycle tends to revolve. In a round of decades three stages stand out in a loop. A slump and war then peel back to square one and back for more." All that before the song ends with accompanying "dum dum dee dums" and "duh duhs."
Sadier will never lose her hypnotic voice and she hasn't "gone" metal or country for this new release. But what she has done is move out to some extent from behind the rhythms and structures of Gane's music. In her words: "In Stereolab, the lyrics came second and were always to fit Tim’s music and not the other way around. I don’t have that creative tension with Tim anymore, and I’m finding that very liberating."
There are moments on The Trip when the music clicks and speeds into a marvelous groove that could well be Stereolab, but for the most part Sadier's voice and words are to the fore, dictating pace and rhythm and this suits the personal nature of the songs. Opening piece "One Million Year Trip" is about her sister's death and the title seems to me an update of the "short time to be here, long time gone" feeling, meaning: a million years is a way to articulate in human terms a measurement of forever without someone we love. Her cover of "Summertime" might sound unnecessary at first hearing but the two minute rendering must surely be a lament for the speed at which salad days, summer, and life, go by.
"By The Sea" is another goodbye song. It is spritely and happy/sad. Free associating, when I hear this I see Les Vacances de M. Hulot and so should you (see the film). As aformentioned, there are moments of propulsion during The Trip but overall it is somber, spare, and still. Sadier has written most of the songs but there are several covers including Les Rita Mitsouko’s "Un Soir Un Chien" which was used in Jean-Luc Godard’s 1987 film, Soigne Ta Droite. This is good since it has something of a Chic disco feel and because Catherine Ringer deserves more attention, too.
Stereolab seems to be in hibernation yet is set to release a collection of unheard material from the sessions for the 2008 album Chemical Chords. In October, lucky European audiences can hear Laetitia Sadier on tour. I could list until the cows come home the supposed roots which may lead to Sadier and Stereolab's ouvre. Everything from Gal Costa to Neu. But an intellectual response to her new album seems foolish and truth be told, I am somewhat incapable of critiquing Sadier. That paradoxical quality in her voice has always made her seem like a person first and a singer second. The brainwashed interviews (accessible on this site) only added to that feeling: portraying as they do her lovely, natural charm as much as her creative curiosity, down to earth way of talking and her intellectual rigor. The Trip is her attempt to make sense of life's tough inevitability and, while she does it with a customary light touch, the pain is tangible. It's a brave attempt. In the words of a Stereolab song: "We communicate more and more. In more defined ways than ever before. But no one has got anything to say. It's all very poor it's all just a bore. Someone has got to make the difference. Between the seeming and the meaning."
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Swans were dead, but Michael Gira is emphatic that this is not a reunion or a re-hash of a defunct brand. The Angels of Light were a rebirth (the title New Mother emphasizes that), but they have run their course as an outlet for Gira's music. They represented a different sentiment and a different focus and this album is very much back where Swans left off in terms of feeling. That is not to say that his time spent doing The Angels of Light has not rubbed off on Gira but this feels right as a Swans album. Not only that but it feels like one of the definitive albums of the year, there is nothing here I would remove or alter.
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Swans were dead, but Michael Gira is emphatic that this is not a reunion or a re-hash of a defunct brand. The Angels of Light were a rebirth (the title New Mother emphasizes that), but they have run their course as an outlet for Gira’s music. They represented a different sentiment and a different focus and this album is very much back where Swans left off in terms of feeling. That is not to say that his time spent doing The Angels of Light has not rubbed off on Gira but this feels right as a Swans album. Not only that but it feels like one of the definitive albums of the year, there is nothing here I would remove or alter.
Most of the songs on My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to Sky were previously released as solo acoustic versions on the album I Am Not Insane (although "My Birth" dates back to the last Swans tour in 1997) so, for better or for worse, many fans will already be familiar with the material before they press play. While lyrically I knew what to expect, it was hard for me to envisage how those acoustic versions would translate to the full sound that Swans are legendary for. I find that when Gira picks up an acoustic guitar, no matter what song he plays it could very easily end up going in any number of directions once a group gets involved. However, from the moment "No Words/No Thoughts" begins, it is impossible to deny the intention behind this release. The cynics who are dismissing this as a cash grab by Gira could not be further from the truth. Had this album been released in the late '90s, no one would have been surprised at the band’s name (though the music might have been more of a surprise).
The only song on I Am Not Insane to sound instantly like a Swans song was "Eden Prison" and I am delighted to find it present here fully developed. The distinctive rhythm could easily have evolved from earlier Swans pieces like "Feel Happiness" from Swans Are Dead or "I Am the Sun" from The Great Annihilator. It is hard to put a finger on what makes a Swans song and I feel the usual descriptions of heavy, slow and miserable to be not entirely persuasive. For me, Swans have always been about the rhythm: the songs lurch rather than follow a steady 1, 2, 3, 4 beat. Whether it is a quiet, introspective piece or one of those pummelling early works, it is all in the rhythm and that particular rhythm is all over this album. "Eden Prison" churns like a powerful engine; the pistons firing, driving the group like a runaway, overladen train doing its best to stay on the tracks.
"Inside Madeline" totters on a knife edge as a snaking bass line care of Chris Pravdica (his first tour of duty with Swans) worms in and out of the layers of guitar and Thor Harris’ fantastic drumming. I was a little disappointed that Toby Dammit (a.k.a. Larry Mullins) was not involved again but Harris’ confident and commanding drumming (amongst other duties) is well up to scratch. Swans’ sense of dynamics proves to be still intact as "Inside Madeline" drops to a whisper to allow Gira to inject his words into the music. Gira steps back from the microphone on "You Fucking People Make Me Sick" to allow his daughter Saoirse and Devendra Banhart to carry the vocals. Banhart has made a career out of capturing his childhood spirit but here his voice sounds ragged and ancient, especially so when Saoirse’s joins his. Midway through the song, the mood changes drastically as clusters of notes are dragged out of a piano like a difficult birth.
There is a deluxe version of the album which unfortunately was not made available to those who pre-ordered the album back in January. Even an option to upgrade would have been appreciated as the piece is every bit as good as the main event and it sucks to have to buy a second copy of the album to get it. Yet it is easy to overlook this as "Look At Me Go" has a gravity which allows it stand alone from My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky, it is not a bonus disc in anything other than name. A collage in the style of The Body Lovers/Body Haters albums, "Look At Me Go" takes the raw recordings from the My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to Sky sessions and sends them into a vortex. Some of the sounds are obviously out-takes from the album (such as Saoirse Gira’s full vocals for "You Fucking People Make Me Sick") and it is interesting to hear some of the segments that did not make the album, the what-could-have-beens and the familiar hammered into new shapes.
I have rated all of Gira’s post-Swans work highly, usually more highly than much of the Swans catalogue (The Angels of Light were Gira’s true calling) but My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to Sky is even better than I could hope for. The music remains vital and powerful, the idea of this as a "reunion" does not sully the work put in by these musicians.
Swans are alive.
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When I first heard the rumors of a possible Swans resurrection, I wasn't quite sure what to think. I never thought for a second that they'd follow the path of other lesser bands that put out an album of re-recorded "hits" and toured state fairs, but I did think there was a chance it could result in a rebranded Angels of Light disc or a Michael Gira solo album. However, neither of those happened, and instead there is a new Swans album worthy of their legacy, and hopefully the first of many.
 
Another concern I had about this album was more of a personal one.My first actual exposure to the band was after their dissolution, so I wasn't "there" for the release of new material, it was all historical to me.Considering my first actual experience was Cop/Young God/Greed/Holy Money, and my second was Various Failures, I was quickly exposed to the two extremes in their sound.But, I never had to "accept" an album as a new Swans album until now.
So I started the disc with some trepidation, not knowing how exactly I was going to feel about "new" Swans material.It took less than a minute into "No Words/No Thoughts" before I knew I had nothing to worry about, thanks to founding member Norman Westerberg’s repetitive, but crushing guitar, layers of noise and drone.About half-way through, Gira's vocals appear, still carrying a certain southern drawl he began cultivating with Angels of Light, but the intensity of the song is pure Swans.
As I hoped, My Father sounds as massive and "heavy" as any prior album, but it feels like an entirely new entity.While I hear traces of older albums and songs amongst the eight tracks, never does it feel like an attempt to duplicate previous work, just influence of it arising in new material."Eden Prison" has a loping repetitive inertia to it that feels in league with the earliest work, but entirely singular and contemporary.Same with "My Birth," which pounds away like the Swans of old, but with a much stronger sense of melody and songwriting.
A few of the songs retain that southern folk influence that Gira developed with Angels of Light, such as sparse "Reeling The Liars In," replete with tales of skinning and burning bodies.The final section of "Inside Madeline" sounds like it could actually be an outtake from one of the Angels albums, but with a thrashing, aggressive instrumental opening that constitutes about two-thirds of the song.The focus on acoustic guitar and backing harmonies in "Little Mouth" results in a sort of country/blues hybrid that is all its own, however.
"You Fucking People Make Me Sick" has probably received the most attention on this album prior to its release, featuring Devendra Banhart and Gira's three year old daughter in a vocal duet.Banhart's sound and style never appealed to me much at all, but the relatively light arrangement and his perverse fairy tale vocals work well together to create a truly creepy atmosphere, which is just magnified by the two minute piano/drum outro, with some extremely dark horn drones to close everything out.
The deluxe edition of this album contains a bonus disc consisting of a single 46 minute track, "Look At Me Go," that was built from instrumental segments and pieces of the final album.In that regard it is reminiscent of the material from the latter Swans albums such as Soundtracks for the Blind, but again is its own beast.The harsh, more abrasive moments of the album are drawn out even longer, resulting in something that is part "megamix"/part sound collage/part unique composition.While the primary "album" consists of songs in the traditional sense, this extra material is a pure exploration of sound that ranks with the best of the band’s experimental moments from the past.Played loudly (as I’m sure it was intended), it is a beautifully visceral experience.
I think most people will be as thrilled with the fact that Gira has decided to revive his old band as I am. My Father had a lot of expectations to live up to, and it surpassed them easily.Considering this isn’t just a one-off project, I can only imagine how the next album will turn out, especially once the band has a new tour under its belt and begins writing new material.
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Strumming Music For Piano, Harpsichord And Strings Ensemble.
(SR 297CD) : OUT 10/12/2010
Sub Rosa presents unpublished works by minimalist composer/vocalist/performer Charlemagne Palestine. Charlemagne Palestine wrote intense, ritualistic music in the 1970s, intended by the composer to rub against audiences' expectations of what is beautiful and meaningful in music. A composer-performer, he always performed his own works as soloist. His earliest works
were compositions for carillon and electronic drones, and he is best known for his
intensely performed piano works. These unpublished pieces from the mid-'70s are
works built on the same principles that he developed and established over the years
for the piano. This is a unique variation on composition that introduces a perpetual
rise inside a continuum of sound. "All of the Strumming Music manifestations seem to
have originated from Charlemagne's physical relationship with the colossal carillon
bells in the tower of St. Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue in New York. I met
Charlemagne Palestine in 1968. The intensity of his listening impressed me as the
intensity of his playing would later, when I heard him play on the carillon and the
bells to 'his church.' I realized later, when Charlemagne had started to develop his
series of piano pieces called Strumming, that he was assaulting that concrete
ceiling and literally pushing through its three feet to release the sonic energy in
the piano, much as he had with the carillon. Charlemagne's interest and work in
electronic music increased in the late '60s, and in 1970, he decamped to southern
California where he became a graduate student working with Morton Subotnick. It was
during this year at CalArts (1970-71) that Charlemagne developed an approach to the
piano that was not only extremely repetitive and physical, but predicated on the
theory that, given the right stimulus, the instrument had a voice of its own and
could produce a whole array of high overtones that seem to jump out on their own as
if by magic. Over the next few years, he developed and polished the music that came
to be known simply as 'Strumming.' The rapid alternation between single notes and
chords and different registers became a technique that he seemed to own, and it
really only worked with this magic piano. 'Strumming' was the physical technique;
the melodies and harmonies that resulted made the music breathe and feel alive.
After a while, the ear doesn't distinguish between notes that are sounded by hammers
and those which are." --extract from the liner notes by Ingram Marshall. Housed in
an 8-page digipak including a 16-page book.
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