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Long has Brad Rose maintained Digitalis, a beacon of experimental music nestled in the heartland of America. Spreading across the landscape like an epidemic, Rose—along with his wife, Eden—has delivered stack upon stack of gratifying discoveries both influential and enjoyable. But recently the pioneering duo has upped their own musical game, flooding an eager market with a steady stream of fantastic releases. Mechanical Gardens, however, stretches Eden and Brad’s Alter Eagle outfit to the brink of the mainstream.
Borrowing from the simplified electronic formula that dominated the late '80s and early '90s, Mechanical Gardens proves the remedy for its maligned genre much as the recent rash of synth-heavy acts recovered the sinewy instrument from its new wave and B-movie imprisonment. Mixing stripped komische rhythms with a healthy dose of subdued sexuality, Brad Rose and Eden Hemming fulfill the promise offered from Mechanical Gardens’ innocent title. As the album unfurls, its buds begin to bloom until its fragrant sensuality turns its admirers into smitten kittens.
The first step is the most precarious, as "Battlegrounds" hums with a sheen not far removed from the likes of U2’s "Numb," but beware settling on such antiquated ideas, for they will only wilt Mechanical Gardens’ blend of machinery and organic chemistry. "Honey" momentarily shifts the paradigm with a catchier aesthetic. Eden and Brad trade off vocal duties, recreating the kitsch of '80s dance pop while surrounding themselves with paired down dancehall beats and a heavy melody to mask the catchiness of "Honey."
If there is a misstep to document, it’s the ill-timing of "Monsters." Its placement as the A-side finale kills the low key cool of Mechanical Gardens’s first half. This repetitive tribute to the life and work of Ian Curtis does the album little favors other than ushering in the changing mood as continued by B-side beginner, "Spy Movie." This song transforms the meditative first half mood into a militaristic march toward doom. Eden and Brad bark in unison, doling out lyrics as drill instructions as the breezy melodies of Mechanical Gardens’ first half dissolve into a panicked pace.
Despite its inclinations to stick close to a nearly forgotten formula, Mechanical Gardens finds itself in a class to itself. The innocence and cool exuded by Brad and Eden carries itself into Altar Eagle’s first proper album, resulting in an album that may be knocking on the door of mainstream electronic music but never abandons the roots of Brad or Eden.
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Aranos will play at Electric Picnic, Stradbally, Co. Laois, Ireland 5th of September 2010.
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While Michael Gira certainly wrote many of his finest songs in the late '80s and early '90s, I was never able to embrace the "softer" phase of the Swans oeuvre as readily as I could the rest (a trait that is not uncommon). The main reason is that Gira's defining traits, for me, have always been his iconic intensity and his willingness to be bluntly honest and ugly. Such content was complemented perfectly by the Swans' early, more primal aesthetic, but the more traditionally melodic late-period material made things a bit more complicated.  I have no problem with the change in direction itself, but the central emphasis on melody and conventional rock structure often has a tendency to undercut or obscure the weightier themes in Gira's lyrics. Hearing Gira wrestle with that central conflict as he continues to expand his sound is what makes Love of Life both fascinating and frustrating.
Many Swans fans view Love of Life's predecessor, White Light From the Mouth of Infinity, as one of the strongest albums of their career, but Love certainly has its share of enthusiastic champions as well.To my ears, this ambitious album is not quite as solid as White Light, but it definitely kept the band's momentum going while continuing to push the band's sound into new territory.I'd describe it as more of a lateral move rather than an improvement or a regression, balancing its less successful moments with a few great songs and one very important new thing: Jarboe's inspired incorporation of taped dialogue from her childhood.While Gira has always been a proponent of sampling, extended spoken-word narratives were a completely new element to the Swans sound.The use of tapes ultimately became one of the highlights of the band's 1996 masterpiece (Soundtracks for the Blind), but they were already wielded to perfection here with the untitled fifth song, a disturbingly matter-of-fact recording of Jarboe’s grandfather describing a hunting trip ("we took the heart out, it was practically torn in two.").There is a similarly striking interlude in "Her," where a 12-year old Jarboe discusses her plans to start a band with her wild friend Charlie.Lots of artists use samples, but Jarboe's tapes are personal, funny, and sad in a way that no one else has been able to replicate.
Aside from the important evolutionary steps towards tapes and droning instrumentals ("Identity"), Love of Life is also significant for having one brilliant song: the crunching, stomping, and overwhelming "In The Eyes of Nature." Gira attempts a similar fusion of melancholy and slow-motion heaviness with "The Golden Boy That Was Swallowed by the Sea," to slightly less success, losing me only with the somewhat bright choruses.I might be alone in my lukewarm praise of "Golden Boy" though, as I often see it hailed as one of the band's greatest successes.The two Jarboe-sung pieces are also excellent (if polarizing), but they just don't quite sound like they belong on the same album as the rest of the material here."She Cries (For Spider)," in particular, sounds like it would have been far more at home on a This Mortal Coil album than a Swans one (I like This Mortal Coil too though).Minor contextual grievances aside, however, "The Other Side of the World" is an achingly beautiful song.
The rest of the album is a mixed bag of very cool incidental pieces, digressions, missteps, and almost-successes.The bludgeoning quasi-industrial drums of"Amnesia" are noteworthy, simultaneously recalling Swans percussion-heavy past while anticipating many of the heavier moments on The Great Annihilator.It's also quite similar to some of Prong's better moments ("Irrelevant Thoughts," for example), which is no surprise given that 2/3 of Prong are on this album.It's nice to hear Gira snarl again once in a while.Some of the other aberrations don't fare quite as well though, particularly "The Sound of Freedom," which sounds like it could be a Pogues song played at quarter speed (until I read the lyrics, anyway).I am definitely not a fan of Gira flirting with major keys at all.
I also disliked the title song, which manages to derail some excellent drumming with its very repetitive and melodically dull vocals to exasperating effect.There's definitely a lot happening, but it is all in service of a very mediocre song.Usually Gira's laconic, deadpan vocals are a distinct asset, but they sometimes make his weaker moments sound a bit plodding.Also, sometimes the lines that give a Swans song some bite are not especially conspicuous, but I couldn't even find deeply buried bile in "Love of Life," only numbing variation of a very simple theme.
The fact that few Swans albums from this period are still in print is certainly unfortunate, but cutting Love of Life up for Various Failures does not strike me as an entirely terrible idea.It's certainly one of the more listenable and varied Swans albums, but it's also a bit uneven.Consequently, culling all of the highlights does not detract from the listening experience much at all for me: "In the Eyes of Nature" and the untitled hunting story are the only absolutely essential pieces here, but Failures even helpfully includes the entire second tier of good songs as well.The only real tragedy to Love of Life’s continued unavailability is that the cover art of Deryk Thomas was pretty spectacular.
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Tepid and, at times, hesitant, James Blackshaw's latest record for Young God is a disappointment. For much of All is Falling he and his band work diligently, trying to weave Blackshaw's erudition into something unique and captivating. Unfortunately, their success is all too infrequent and what results is an unsatisfying collection of stoic songs.
More than halfway through the album, during "Part 6," James and violinist Fran Bury count out loud, inviting us to consider the song's rhythm with them. "One, two, three, four, one-two-three-four-one" they count, their voices merging into a fugue of numbers until the sequence becomes confused: "One, two, three, four, one-two-six-three-four." These are the only words spoken on the album, but they provide the best insight into All is Falling's spirit and scope. Drawing attention to a song's technical elements so near the album's climax tells me Blackshaw is interested in highlighting the technical aspects of his music, even to the exclusion of other features. Many of the album's eight parts sound more like exercises than songs, and all of them are modestly paced tapestries that call attention to the way the instruments interact rather than to the musical result. OnThe Glass Bead Game, Blackshaw deftly smeared the line between cello and guitar, voice and flute, etc., until they disappeared into each other and created something newer, bigger. On All is Falling he accomplishes this same effect, but to a greater degree and for a much longer duration; the result is more tedious than mesmerizing.
His melodies are frequently circular and the dynamic variety prescribed for each instrument is such that it imitates Blackshaw's 12-string playing on previous albums for Tompkins Square and Bo'Weavil. Melodies and harmonies came in waves on those records, rhythms pulsed vaguely, and, as a result, time stretched in unexpected and pleasing ways. And James played the guitar like a man possessed, showcasing it and his melodies while simultaneously challening himself as an instrumentalist. On All is Falling none of the instruments speak up or take the lead, and none of the songs feature a melody strong enough to be memorable or affective. Besides Fran Bury, who worked with James on both The Cloud of Unknowing and Litany of Echoes, All is Falling features multi-instrumentalist Charlotte Glasson and cellist Daniel Madav. Both musicians play exquisitely, but neither is allowed the freedom necessary to make unique or notable contributions. In fact, whatever peculiar talents or unique voices they might have are squelched by Blackshaw's fixed tempos, flat dynamics, and even temperament. Consequently, little emotion finds its way to the album and any conceptual reward that might lie in waiting is left undiscovered for want of interest.
Both "Part 7" and "Part 8" help mix things up a little, but they offer too little, too late. The former alludes to a fiery, largely dormant spirit boiling beneath Blackshaw's studious arrangements, but it fails to produce any smoke and falls instead into the unexpected and conspicuous "Part 8." That song is a strange and completely out-of-place electric experiment that would fit perfectly on a collection like Ohm: The Early Gurus of Electronic Music; here it sounds like an expression of frustration. It is another cold and static song, but with a different voice. It does manage to catch my attention more than some of the preceding songs, though that could be due to its sticking out like a sore thumb. I know James Blackshaw is a talented and imaginative composer; his previous albums have proved that sufficiently. What those albums have, and what All is Falling is missing, is a strong emotional context and a more unrestrained James Blackshaw at the helm. If James wants to highlight his talents as a player and composer more, he can do it without showing so much restraint. I'd like to see him show off a little more, both technically and personally.
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Leona Anderson's mock-pompous operatic voice can provoke amusement and nauseous grimacing. Music To Suffer By is as beguiling as a jar of pickled walnuts: nectar for a few people, odd and repulsive to others. Either way, this re-mastered album shouldn't be swallowed in one sitting.
Leona Anderson probably would not be allowed to exist for long in our current saturation-style media. Rather, she would be hounded to reveal the intent behind her intense caterwauling until any mystery and subtlety had been stripped from her work. Luckily she performed in a time of less viral exposure and more innocence. Thus, acquaintances such as comb player Paul Bacon and Edie Adams can only say they suspect Anderson knew she was being funny. Anderson was born in St Louis and her brother Max featured in some of the earliest known cowboy films, as Bronco Billy Anderson. She apparently attempted opera singing before landing screen roles in movies such as In The Park and a short spoof of Rudolph Valentino's Blood and Sand called Mud and Sand (with Stan Laurel as "Rhubarb Valentino"). After hearing her sing, the oft-repeated joke is to wish that she had stayed in silent cinema.
In the mid-1950s Anderson recorded a tune called "Fish" accompanied by Bill Baird (the puppeteer from The Sound of Music) on tenor tuba and Tony Burrello, who recorded his own single "There's A New Sound (The Sound of Worms Eating Your Brain)" on calliope, an instrument associated with steamboats. It's a pity that "Fish" isn't included here since it did lead to the making of Music To Suffer By. "Fish" caught the ear of Ernie Kovacs who featured it in a running TV gag with him standing beside a suit of armor and opening the visor for Anderson's voice to come bellowing out. She also appeared on his show and that led to the recording and original release of the album by Unique Records.
Trunk Records do their usual valuable service to collectors with this remastering by Jon Brooks at NewyattSounds. Anderson's phrasing and the choice of instruments to accompany her come over very well. The other obvious joke is that she has never sounded better (and worse). Her gently-strangled-to-death versions of standards such as "I Love Paris" are fine but the truly worthwhile pieces are original compositions which use sincere logic and gusto to create something not just funny but quite bizarre. Perhaps that is why the mesmerizing "Rats in My Room" makes me think of Kafka and the cheese-themed "Limburger Lover" brings to mind the notorious butter scene from Last Tango in Paris.
Leona Anderson is in the pantheon of skillful badness along with such cracked cultural pleasures as Les Dawson's piano playing, the cathartic wildness of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, and the musical bicycle antics of the young Frank Zappa. The single bang just after the end of "Indian Love Call" suggests that someone finally couldn't take it anymore and shot her, although she actually lived to the age of 88 and passed away in California on Christmas day, 1973. Whether she is described as demented, hilarious, or torturous, Anderson will be remembered long after the majority of all the ubiquitous auto-tuned dullard singers are buried (dead or alive) and forgotten.
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After the two most recent Jesu works had returned to the heavy guitar sound the project began with, Justin Broadrick saw fit to separate that project into two distinct entities: Jesu for heavy guitar music, and Pale Sketcher (named for the Pale Sketches compilation) for the more ambient and electronic pop sounds. Considering that the two most electronic Jesu releases are among my favorites from that band (the split with Envy and Why Are We Not Perfect), I had high hopes for this project. After hearing it, I think there's a lot of potential with Pale Sketcher, though I don't know if this album demonstrates that inherently.
Being that it is essentially a Jesu compilation remixed, I think it's a hard release to try and gauge how this project will work out.Those aforementioned splits Broadrick did as Jesu were mostly electronic, but when the more traditional Jesu sound appeared, the juxtaposition is what I loved.On both songs from the Envy split, the heavy riffs came in at just the right time, mixing the guitar sound of Jesu with the electronic, almost pop structure that dominated the songs.I worry that this will end up stripping TOO much of the rock sound away from Broadrick's work.
Three of the songs were available last year in the Japanese 2CD reissue of the original Pale Sketches, "Don't Dream it (Mirage Mix)," "The Playgrounds are Empty (Slumber Mix)," and "Supple Hope (2009 Mix).""Don't Dream It" is improved, in my opinion, by the removal of the Rocky Horror samples and a greater emphasis on the grimy bass line and beats."The Playgrounds are Empty" strips most of the original track down, leaving only a rudimentary rhythm and hazy, sparse movements of synth, creating a warm, gauzy, drifting sound that is absolutely beautiful."Supple Hope" is also a more skeletal track, but leaves Broadrick's vocals in the open, rather than heavily processed in the original version.
"Can I Go Now (Gone Version)" follows a similar approach as "Playgrounds," stripping much of the track bare, including most of the vocals, to the point where it bears little resemblance to the original other than one melodic synth line.Considering this was one of my favorites on the original release, I feel a bit let down by this funereal take on what was more of an uptempo synth pop piece."Plans That Fade (Faded Dub)" goes the literal "dub" route, with a reggae inspired rhythm and vocals pushed into plate reverb hell, plus lots of effects and experimentations all around.
I think that, for the most part, the "vocal" tracks are the ones I gravitated towards on the original Pale Sketches album, and thus I've grown very familiar and fond of them in the three years since that album came out.Hearing them redone just doesn't feel quite right, since I just constantly compare them to what I'm used to.With the exception of "Can I Go Now," they're all strong on their own and will perhaps grow on me more over time, but at least at this stage feel like they lack the identity the original versions developed.
The instrumental tracks fare better in my opinion, mostly because I haven't spent as much time with the originals to be prejudiced against the remixes."Wash it All Away (Cleansed Dub)" keeps the soft synths from the original, but retains a rather mellow feeling throughout, dialing the beats back in intensity and turning the distortion down some as well, giving a much more chilled feel than the previous version.The emphasis on breakbeats that fill "Tiny Universes (Interstellar)," along with the reverb swells actually reminds me a lot of Re-Entry/Babylon Seeker-era Techno Animal, when the focus was on the beats and atmospheres rather than distortion and grime.
I do worry a bit that Broadrick will focus TOO much on the electronic elements of his previous works with Pale Sketcher, possibly leaving the vocals and guitar completely out of the mix. Most, if not all the guitar parts have been removed or processed far beyond identification, and most of the vocal appearances are soaked in effects.Guitar and vocals are what drew the line between Jesu and Godflesh for me, and many others as well, and I think most consider those defining marks of Broadrick’s sound.With the sole focus on synths and samples, Pale Sketcher might not develop the same iconic status that his other projects have.However, considering these are "demixes" of other tracks, perhaps it is the symbolic "tear it down to rebuild" gesture that Pale Sketcher is beginning with.I just hope any future releases lean more towards Why Are We Not Perfect or the two tracks from the Envy split, because if so, Pale Sketcher may end up rivaling Jesu in my opinion.
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With a few exceptions, most of Mehdi Ameziane's recording career can be broken down into two simple categories: "great albums" and "albums that would have been great if they had been pared down a bit." Then Fell the Ashes... happily falls quite squarely in the former category. There is definitely some evidence here that Mehdi is continuing to evolve and improve, but the more important thing is that this is one of the most perfect distillations of everything that makes TwinSisterMoon so unique and wonderful. This is one of my favorite albums of 2010.
I have always preferred the darkly psychedelic drone side of Ameziane's work to his folkier pieces, so I was quite pleased to discover that the bulk of Then Fell the Ashes... is devoted to his more quasi-ritualistic, otherworldly, and abstract leanings.In fact, the entire second side of the record is filled by one such work, the overwhelmingly beautiful 25-minute title piece.It is hard to make me rabidly enthusiastic about drone music, but "Then Fell the Ashes..." is just staggeringly perfect in so many ways: there is a head-spinning amount of textural activity occurring, it is hugely powerful, it's filled with great instrumental passages, and it all seamlessly flows from crushingly dense to ghostly to fragilely melancholy without any lapses in majesty or vitality.The sad, oddly-timed cascade of guitar and piano notes near the middle stood out as particularly sublime, but I was also very impressed with how it unexpectedly evolved into an actual song at the end, like the closing credit music of an especially hallucinatory nightmare. I'm a big fan of unconventional song structures that aren't clumsy or jarring.
While "Then Fell the Ashes..." is certainly pretty stunning from a compositional standpoint, I was equally struck by Mehdi's skill as a producer and arranger.He weaves together an absurd number of tracks and instruments here, all of which are shimmering, flanging, rattling, swelling, or fading in some way, yet it never sounds cluttered or muddy, just gritty, psychotropic, and enveloping.Making drone music sound visceral, organic, and detached from our time is an art form all its own—I can't fathom how long it must have have taken him to record and mix such a piece.
The six pieces on the first side maintain a similar level of excellence.My favorites are (predictably) the more drone-themed ones, particularly the massive "Black Nebulae," which almost seems to breathe in an ominously Lovecraftian way. "The Big Sand" is equally wonderful, though markedly less unsettling.In fact, the coda is almost pastoral, as the howling pagan pipes give way to quivering organs (or treated flutes), field recordings of water and birds, and an elegantly melodic acoustic guitar motif.
The four brief "songs" are pleasant enough in a "tape hiss-damaged recording of Vashti Bunyan" kind of way, but they don’t pack quite the wallop of their lengthier, more maximalist counterparts.I'm glad they are included though; as they're essential from a sequencing perspective: 18 solid minutes of heavy psychedelic drone would be exhausting.The occasional oases of space and intimacy go a long way towards heightening the impact of the album's denser pieces.Also, I am pleased that the neo-folk songs are less oppressively sad than usual ("Trailer" could actually be described unironically as catchy).I suspect Mehdi is making an effort to broaden to expand his mood palette a bit and it seems to be an experiment that is working very well so far.
I expect to like every TwinSisterMoon release at this point, but Then Fell the Ashes... exceeded my expectations in every way: it sounds awesome, it doesn’t resemble anyone else, the melodies are great, the heavy parts are elephantine, and it all flows beautifully.Also, it seems like Mehdi is becoming more skilled at finding the ideal lengths for his songs on a case-by-case basis.This is a near-flawless and remarkably listenable album. Anyone curious about checking out TwinSisterMoon or Natural Snow Buildings would be wise to start here.
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