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This 1991 release marked the beginning of the trilogy that many regard to be some of Andrew McKenzie's finest and most inspired work. Appropriately enough, its 2004 reissue by devoted super-fan Frans de Waard (Beequeen) marked the beginning of something still more notable: an ongoing campaign to track down and reissue as many hopelessly unavailable Hafler Trio albums as possible—with all omissions, glitches, and compromises eradicated and all financially suicidal packaging triumphantly intact.
One of the qualities that makes Kill the King—a single 73-minute "ambient" piece—such a satisfying work is that McKenzie balances his characteristically aggressive contrarian and experimentalist impulses with massive, sustained, and subliminally buzzing drones and an occasional languorous pulse.Such concessions to listenability are quite uncommon in Hafler Trio's oeuvre, but I find them to be quite welcome when they appear.I am certainly a fan of H3O's more mischievous, bizarre, and abrasive tendencies, but having them presented within a context of semi-conventional structure and musicality definitely makes them more rewarding over multiple listens.I suspect Andrew would hate to hear that though.In fact, he seems to have had some misgivings about Kill the King's direction even while he was making it, as he managed to only narrowly avoid making a perfect ambient drone album through an artful act of late-song self-sabotage (a brief, but thoroughly cringe-inducing, dental drill interlude).
Atypically, Hafler Trio actually seems to have been almost an actual trio for this album, as McKenzie was allegedly joined by artist/short wave radio enthusiast John Duncan and composer Zbigniew Karkowski.I say "allegedly" because they are not credited anywhere on the reissue, though McKenzie cryptically mentions that he was assisted by "a disappeared" and"a never was." He also mentions that he composed one track using "a never can."More concretely, performance artist/sexologist Annie Sprinkle makes an actual credited appearance, lending her voice to be chopped and mangled into unrecognizability for a cathartic and disquieting mid-song sequence (a fascination that Andrew more fully explored in later years with the help of Blixa Bargeld, David Tibet, and Jónsi).Aside from Sprinkle and a distorted recording of a different woman speaking at the album's onset, however, it is impossible to tell where any of the sounds may have originated, as they are all distilled into either a swirling, quivering shimmer or an ominous rumble.
McKenzie has long been quite hostile toward digital release (and sharing) of his music and it is easy to see why.Kill the King (as well as many other H3O releases) is more of a bizarre multimedia experience than an album—to miss the art and text is to miss something quite integral to the H3O vision.In fact, the accompanying booklet is a masterpiece in its own right, both as a feat of graphic design and as an impenetrable enigma.I am almost completely certain that the whimsically disquieting pictures, pages of brief evocative text, six seemingly extraneous song titles, and random (?) words in a silver font are mere red herrings that have nothing to do with the music, but I still have a sliver of doubt.And if they are, I am forced to wonder if McKenzie threw them in to be deliberately annoying and misleading, or if there is something deeply witty or profound being hinted at.Regardless of their original intent, all of those little touches combine to make it clear that this object is coming to me from a rather curious and alien place and bears little resemblance at all to the comparatively homogenous commodities released by "serious" musicians that want to be liked.In recent years, however, McKenzie has taken his passion for unique packaging to the furthest possible extreme, forgoing CDs entirely in favor of offering one month of his creative life to create an individualized, one-of-a-kind "art object" for anyone who can finance it.
An amusing (and probably intentional) irony that I noticed when listening to Kill the King is that, if I didn't know better, it would be totally plausible for a brilliant psycho-acoustic researcher to have been involved in the making of this album (like fictitious founding member Dr. Edward Moolenbeck).Or maybe the irony is that Andrew himself is something of a brilliant psycho-acoustic researcher.Superficially, this is drone music, but the attention to minor detail and pure sound is on a level that few have the ability or willingness to attempt.It's almost like this album could have emerged from an aborted military experiment to create sound waves that are so vibrant and psychotropic on a microcosmic level that hapless enemy combatants would be unable to do anything but listen intently.This is, quite simply, an utterly absorbing and unpredictable release from one of the most twisted and calculating minds in modern music.
Samples:
 
 
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Considering the album’s title suggests a bleak monochromatic soundscape, Colin Potter and Phil Mouldycliff quickly confounded my limited expectations with their vivid field recordings and processed sounds. They take us by the hand and lead us on a tour of a sleepy village found somewhere between the Mediterranean coast and the edge of consciousness. Trembling and sonorous, the music the pair generate over the course of the album is rich with delicate textures and hidden beauty.
The opening section brings to mind Luc Ferrari’s Presque Rien but Potter and Mouldycliff wrap their recordings in a kaleidoscopic haze. Babbling conversations are heard through a psychedelic filter, the words becoming indistinct with only a glimmer of recognition remaining. With crystal clarity, church bells ring over the hubbub to reinforce my mental image of a small, sunny village hidden between green hills. Even later in the album when the detail of these field recordings fades to a rough outline, the genial ambience of the original sounds is maintained throughout Grey Skies on Asphalt.
As the album progresses, the source materials become more obscured by Potter and Mouldycliff’s manipulations. The middle section of the album leaves behind identifiable sounds almost completely: what sounds like radio interference could be anything. Even when some remnant of familiarity is retained, the sounds are being heard from an angle that is a novelty. Murky voices become giant and alien (although strangely unthreatening) and warm humming noises are presented along with shimmering tones to maintain the character of that sunny day in a country community. The church bells may remain ever present but despite their distinct sound, they begin to collapse in on themselves, their essence transmutated into new forms by the duo.
Each time I listen to Grey Skies on Asphalt, I cannot help but sink into a relaxed reverie. The album’s capacity for inducing Technicolor daydreams is immense; both Potter and Mouldycliff are well able to create mentally stimulating sound works on their own but this collaborative effort has intensified their talents greatly. When the album finally comes around full circle to the untreated field recordings, it is only then that I realize how far Potter and Mouldycliff have brought me on their journey.
samples:
 
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For Sub Rosa's second blues compilation, they swing their gaze from relatively unknown blueswomen to unsung bluesmen. Crackling, distorted recordings betray the battered, forgotten nature of these individuals but through the murk of time come songs and voices that sound utterly alive and unblemished by almost a century of pillaging at the church of the blues. Although varying in quality (both in terms of the songs and the recordings themselves), I'm Going Where the Water Drinks Like Wine is a fine presentation of undeservedly obscure musicians long lost in the dusty recesses of personal record collections and thrift stores.
The album begins at the most logical point of all for a recorded history of the blues, the first known recording of that quintessential blues technique: the slide guitar. In 1923, Sylvester Weaver brought his bottleneck style (or knife blade style depending on his mood) to the then blossoming world of recorded music. The results can be heard here on "Guitar Blues;" the fundamental cornerstone of the blues just about audible under the gravelly surface noise of the ancient 78 record. It is a simple, beautiful and unassuming piece of music with buckets more feeling than the decades of clichéd slide guitar that has followed.
Clichés in general are put to the sword throughout the album, even lines like "my mama’s dead, my daddy too/that’s the reason why I’ve got these weeping, moaning blues" sound shockingly genuine to this day. As someone who generally finds the blues to be a sometimes interesting musical relic rather than a moving artistic experience, I'm Going Where the Water Drinks Like Wine pushes a lot of the right buttons for me. Like a lot of early blues recordings, the sense that this music was still a living, breathing and evolving form of playing as opposed to a bunch of similar scales trotted out by overpaid rock musicians is strong here.
The sweet fiddle of Andrew Baxter, accompanied by his son Jim on guitar, on "K.C. Railroad Blues" shows the co- option of contemporary folk and country playing into the early blues, a natural and perfect marriage of styles. Willard Ramblin' Thomas' "No Job Blues" strikes a particular chord, its encapsulation of the harshness of the Great Depression finding some parallels in the spiralling unemployment and financial turmoil of today (although luckily things have not hit quite as hard now as in the twenties). His deft guitar playing sounds deceptively simple; notes spiral from his fingers like water from a sprinkler.
Despite such a massive trawl through early blues recordings by the likes of Alan Lomax and Harry Smith throughout the 20th century, I'm Going Where the Water Drinks Like Wine is evidence that there is still much detective work to be done. The scant biographical details (even some of the artists’ names are up for debate) included in the sleeve notes paint these recordings as lost snatches in time by men that remain almost totally anonymous in the public eye. That is part of the appeal of this album, these songs are being sung by voices on which we can concoct our own stories; the trappings of myth and history not clouding the music like the songs of infamous bluesmen like Robert Johnson or Leadbelly.
samples:
- Andrew Baxter, "K.C. Railroad Blues"
- Arthur Petties, "Down South Blues"
- Noah Lewis, "Devil in the Woodpile"
 
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MAINS DE GIVRE is a violin-centered soundscaping project involving self-taught experimentalist Eric Quach and classically trained musician Émilie Livernois-Desroches, both of whom call Montreal home. Quach is widely known for the experimental ambient work he's produced under his thisquietarmy alias and also is the founder of the instrumental-shoegazer band Destroyalldreamers. Livernois-Desroches has played violin since she was seven years old and been teaching since 2003. She has been a part of various chamber music and symphonic orchestras, and performs with a wide variety of bands in styles ranging from pop to medieval to metal. While her previous best-known project was the melodic folk-black metal band Blackguard (formerly known as Profugus Mortis), Mains de Givre is her most experimental project to date.
Quach and Livernois-Desroches first crossed paths in 2003 while playing with their respective bands Destroyalldreamers and Sugarshack as part of the emerging post-rock scene in Montreal. Following each other's musical achievements over the years, their mutual respect for each other grew until they found themselves six years later embarking on a studio collaboration initially intended to be part of a thisquietarmy release. As their personal and musical chemistry grew, their newfound closeness turned the collaboration into an official long-term project they christened Mains de Givre (frost hands) after a nickname that had been given to Émilie (émilie-aux-mains-de-givre) by her bandmates.
Mains de Givre's debut album, Esther Marie, originates from material recorded at the duo's first jam session in the spring of 2009. The recording opens with the very first notes the two played together, notes that evoke an eerie sadness that permeates the album and characterizes the mood of their collaboration. With the violin as the lead instrument, Quach's guitar playing is restrained yet also tense, as he generates dark, slowly evolving drone atmospheres alongside subtle, looped-based patterns that swirl within the lower end of the sound spectrum.
In terms of media coverage, the recording has received unanimous praise from many different quarters: it was given the number three slot in Fluid Radio's June Top 10; characterized as "amazing ambient soundscapes" and given a grade of 8.5/10 by The Montreal Mirror; described as a "stunning collection of deeply atmospheric and dark experimental compositions" and "a truly magnificent record, which should be missed under no pretext," and awarded a 5/5 rating by The Milk Factory; and featured on the playlists of radio stations WNYC (New York), CKUT (Montreal), and CHYZ (Montreal).
For more info and purchasing details, go here: http://www.textura.org/pages/archives.htm
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Now available from BRAVEMYSTERIES.COM
CQBL004 | The Second Family Band | Veiled Gallery | c42
[Limited edition 20 Green on Lime | 80 Green on Black]
Humming and wheezing through 40+ minutes of electro-acoustic tension and release, with the usual mood swings from good vibes to hysteria, the Second Family Band is the still-raging avatar of our lonely local folkspirit. Second Family Band folks are everyone from the recent University of Wisconsin dropouts to aging remnants of the anarcho/folkish/mage/squatter tradition of Madison, featuring members of Davenport Family, Pan to Scratch, Zodiac Mountain, Drunjus, Hintergedanken, Burial Hex, Jex Thoth, Zola Jesus, Kinit Her, Crystal Dragon, and many other local units. This cassette contains six choice excerpts from two sessions given near the end of summer, 2009. The first session was a huge family gathering at the newly installed Harvest Abbey in Madison. The second session was a beautiful performance by a trio of elders within St Mary's of the Oaks, a 154 year-old Marian altar built on a hilltop in the forest around Indian Lake. If you have heard Second Family before, than you know a little bit of what to expect: loads of percussion, singing, plucking, pounding, tapping, dropping, alien choirs, bass grooves, naked ladies, strange fidelities, chanting, praying, drinking, strumming, smoking, ringing, clapping, bowing, pulsing, losing, forgetting, and finding everything in every type of mood from the sinister to the blissful. Yet, one local cynic described the music on this tape as sounding "too good for Second Family Band". Whatever the case may be, Brave Mysteries is proud to release this document of a momentary glance into the native spirit and biodynamic soundscape of central Wisconsin, in hopes to keep these gentle old family flames burning for yet another season.
All cassettes are professionally duplicated and imprinted on high-bias chrome tapes and are delivered individually shrink-wrapped. Colored tapes are shipped first come first serve only.
PPD $7-USA | $8-CAN | $10-WORLD
PayPal bravemysteries[at]gmail.com
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CQBL002 | Kinit Her | Divine Names | c30
[Limited edition 20 Silver on Blue | 80 Silver on Black]
New full length album from our beloved Janus-headed ur-folk brethren of thee Midwest, Kinit Her have been releasing dense and gorgeous music for the last three years and these new compositions have the most developed, deep and intimate sounds of any Kinit Her releases. Founded as a trio in 2007, one of their founding members has recently retired from music to enjoy family life out in the country, sadly leaving only two close brothers still huddled around the cauldron. In the absence of their musical kin, Kinit Her journeys on, gathering what they find along the path, filling their hearts and sounds with an ever-deepening sorrow gained from their search for real meaning through the tainted veils of the modern world, a sorrow diluted only by the dim glimmering of hope offered by occult insights into what lies behind those veils. The music presented here includes an epic working that covers all of side A, progressing from a ritual howling at the edge of Ain Soph to a pensive woodland march, winding it's way to devastation and madness. Side B follows with some their most unique yet accessible songcraft to date, a stunning set of new songs, showing the careful influence of Neoclassical and Early musics. Sounding organic tone-mantras from shofar horns, bending sweetened notes on beaten twelve-string guitars, intoning a harmonized enumeration of spells and dreams, backed by weeping string and brass arrangements with lush acoustic ephemera twinkling on the peripherals of everything, twisting arcane runes into the cyber sigils of tomorrow, with their smoldering mysticism filling the spaces in between each sound, this soft duo have become hard, turning the world upside down and following the lessons of modernity to find their birthrights in the spirit of the god-fearing troubadours of old.
All cassettes are professionally duplicated and imprinted on high-bias chrome tapes and are delivered individually shrink-wrapped. Colored tapes are shipped first come first serve only.
PPD $7-USA | $8-CAN | $10-WORLD
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CQBL001 | Burial Hex | Fantasma Di Perarolo | c55
[Limited edition 20 Gold on Gold | 80 Gold on Black]
Pipe organ sonata by Clay Ruby featuring liturgical medleys and elaborate funerary improvisations with accompanying electronic atmospheres by Giovanni Donadini, Nico Vascellari and Riccardo Mazza. This performance was given on the mid-eighteenth century pipe organ at Chiesa di San Nicolò di Perarolo di Cadore and recorded December 23rd, 2009 at the inauguration performance of Nico Vascellari's exhibition at Perarolo, as currated by Daniela Zangrando. A crowd from all over Italy traveled north to join the curious villagers, all huddled together in their warmest winter clothes to witness this performance, which involved a 3 hour funeral procession and memorial within the massive, candlelit, unheated church that is the center of tiny village lost high in the frozen Dolomites of northern Italy. Two elderly natives furiously pulling ropes to pump the bellows of the ancient organ while Clay Ruby conjures decayed hymns, modal improvisations, spiraling tone clusters and utterly supernatural voices out of its sputtering pipes. This tape captures a 18+ minute excerpt of the lengthy proceedings, documenting the howling organ, the cryptic electronics and the frozen spirits singing in the pulsing and surreal environment of the centuries-old church.
Now available from BRAVEMYSTERIES.COM
All cassettes are professionally duplicated and imprinted on high-bias chrome tapes and are delivered individually shrink-wrapped. Colored tapes are shipped first come first serve only.
PPD $7-USA | $8-CAN | $10-WORLD
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Initially I was disappointed that this third release from Stephen O'Malley and Peter Rehberg was only a one-sided vinyl. The two previous albums were both proper heavy headfucks and I wanted more and more. However, the two pieces on KTL3 manage to invoke an even more unsettling atmosphere than I was expecting. "Loud Game" features some classic O'Malley riffing before breaking down into a hacking mess of noise. "Sunday" is a quieter and more menacing affair: a treacly bass rhythm throbs in the background while squeals, scrapes and clangs ring out like an infernal blacksmith creating a torture machine.
Visually, this is the most impressive KTL release. The sleeve features a creepy photograph of a life size doll (which I believe is connected to the theatre piece that O'Malley and Rehberg teamed up to soundtrack) which sets the mood immediately. Once you take out the inner sleeve and cut through the seal, an etching of a horned beast on the flipside of the vinyl greets you. All of this combines with the music to create a nightmarish cocktail. The sounds here are a bit of break away from the wintry blasts of tinny noise on the first two albums which indicates that KTL have more in them than a single soundtrack work. There is no word from O'Malley and Rehberg if this project is to continue but based on the darker pastures of KTL3, pushing any deeper into the night might prove too much for mortal ears.
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Volume III in a series of UK / European / US and Japanese artists’ tributes to the pioneering UK Noise group The New Blockaders
release date: July 27, 2010
catalog#: IMPREC262
format:DOUBLE CD
Including exclusive tracks by: Z’EV, The Haters, Controlled Bleeding, Thurston Moore, Jim O’Rourke, Wolf Eyes, Macronympha, Emil Beaulieau, AMK, Idea Fire Company, John Wiese, Daniel Menche, Damion Romero, Aaron Dilloway, Lockweld, Prurient, Richard Ramirez, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Jason Kahn, mnortham, Carlos Giffoni, Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, etc.
Disc One:
Z'EV "Chips Off The New Block"
Keith Fullerton Whitman "September 27th, 1960"
Alan Courtis "Happy Blockaders Time"
Controlled Bleeding "The Latest Hole In My Head"
Plethora "Last Night I Dremt Of Anti-Fest... This Morning I Woke Up Deaf"
Macronympha "Riding Down Lost Highway"
The Haters "Mantra To Rot"
Emil Beaulieau "Anti-Vartan"
Lockweld "Catharsis Bomb"
Daniel Menche "Smoldered Blockaders"
John Wiese "Annul"
Broken Penis Orchestra "The Kill Lump"
Jason Kahn "Rille"
Disc Two:
Idea Fire Company "Les Heros De La Barricade Finale"
mnortham "Plotting Course On The Field Of Nothingness"
Thurston Moore "Corion Sound for TNB"
Jim O'Rourke "407 Seconds Over"
Damion Romero "Broken Block"
Prurient "Majdanek Slaughterhouse"
Richard Ramirez "Cultural Blockade"
Blue Sabbath Black Cheer "Untitled"
Carlos Giffoni "Richard Walks Into The Sea"
AMK "Phlegm Angst"
Aaron Dilloway "Machine Rape (Blitzkrieg)"
Wolf Eyes "Fisted Gadgets"
Artwork by Richard Rupenus (TNB)
More info on Important Records website
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Beck's choice of collaborators is telling about his approach to music. Nocando's rhyme on "98" is hard to listen to, deeply personal and honest, but it's the kind of track that I wish more people would try to make within the context of a hip hop record. Mia Doi Todd's voice loops and blends with samples over a beautiful but broken downtempo number while Saul Williams adds more gravitas to an album that's already aiming to be a seriously considered journey rather than a collection of pop songs.
Even the instrumental tracks here sing with a resonantly personal touch. Beck swings back and forth between sample hungry hip hop tracks and songs that exist outside of any tightly constrained vision of a genre. Music like this almost always tends to be a reflection of someone creating out of a need to express rather than a need to move units at the local shop. Of course that means that records like Thru often have a difficult time connecting with the people whose jobs are to market, sell, promote, and distribute music, but paradoxically these same records are usually the ones that connect the deepest with individual listeners who feel what an artist is trying to say.
Thru is a pretty dark journey, but not one that dwells on or ever feels weighted down by its own themes. This could easily be the kind of record that gets people who typically dismiss hip hop and electronic music as glossy, vacant, or superficial to rethink that position.
samples:
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