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Don’t be fooled by Riggs’ collegiate pedigree—he is quick to veer far away from the traditional academic philosophy of creating complication compositions for art and beauty. Of course, there is the other side to the equation; music as a form of guttural art in the hands of musical geniuses with sheepskin degrees. Riggs roughly combines the opposite ends of the spectrum, producing a mountain of original output through his Holy Cheever Church label (which has found nine releases bearing his name this year; some of it distorted and awkward, some beautifully avant.
Gold Danny happens to be the first CD-R Riggs has released of his material this year, choosing to use the lo-fi sounds of cassette to house his creations. The slightly clearer sound emitted from the spinning disc puts a clearer spotlight on Riggs’ many talents. Gold Danny spans a host of electric guitar manipulations, rapidly changing from elastic string bends to monotonous bows. It’s the anonymity of Gold Danny, however, that is easiest to embrace. The 17 nameless tracks—rotating between 3-minute bursts of 6-string fury and 25 second silences—come across as ideas Riggs is sharing with listeners, as if to seek active feedback from his work. Despite being the product of spastic fits of creativity, Riggs has always worked well with others (as evident by his collaborations with Matt Endahl, Terrortank, and Mike Khoury among others) but this time we’re in the role of co-conspirator. Much like the Buddha box, Gold Danny feels like a tool to stir the creative juices of its audience and an eventual means to become part of a musical Frankenstein.
Christopher Riggs explores melody in abstract tones, often replacing any semblance of pattern for warped plucks and pounds of guitar strings. Much of Gold Danny plays like the plops and clicks from the “Seinfeld” theme, though the cute midi effects are replaced with twisted metal and chromatic springs. Each piece is a mini-deconstruction of the guitar in the truest form—as if Riggs has grown bored with a fully functioning instrument and is determined to pry open its electronic guts and document the process with the guitar’s death cries. Yet the intentions aren’t evil, and it translates into Riggs’ playful recordings.
Gold Danny may not be a conventional guitar album, but rarely does Christopher Riggs exist within convention. In the end, the guitar is just a prop and the treatment of it as such provides a new take on the instrument. This may not be a new way to coax strangeness from a guitar, but few can do it with this amount of effortless whimsy and cartoonish charm.
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While there are echoes of Throbbing Gristle or Swans at various points throughout their album, White move beyond any ground previously explored by those groups. Even Einstürzende Neubauten, the band who have nurtured White (Blixa Bargeld produced the album and it has been released via a label that has been born out of Neubauten’s supporter project) are only given passing nods from time to time (although there is a homage to their early clamour during “Roswitha Strunk”). These bands are influences in methodology only; Shenggy and Shou Wang have forged a distinctive, modern sound from post punk principles.
White’s music has a positive, optimistic quality to it that is infectious. Throughout the album I get a feeling of serenity and happiness that should not be from a band touted as China’s answer to industrial music. The strange slide guitar (if it is even that, it is a mysterious sound) in “Spring House” creates an off-kilter feeling of hope as Shenggy gently sings over it. Once the music takes flight, Shenggy and Shou Wang have the grace of birds. The effect is beautiful and unusual yet not as delicate as this written description would suggest. White create sturdy music that is also lightweight, the notes and beats made from a musical form of aluminium.
The standout track on the album is “Build A Link,” where the brightness of White’s outlook on life shines brightest. The rhythm and evolution of the song is reminiscent of Kraftwerk’s “Neon Lights” and like Kraftwerk, White romanticise the mundane features of modern life that define how we now live. The lyrics here encapsulate the feeling of joy at realising how technology is no longer a depersonalising entity but a new way of forging links between the various cultural islands of humanity. “47 Rockets (For Wan Hu)” explores this sort of technophilia but with a bit more oomph to the music; a joyous climax towards the end of the song like fireworks in the night sky.
Finally, the studio process has worked very well in White’s favor, the rough edges of their live performance have been smoothed out and every little nuance of the duo’s playing has been captured in beautiful detail by Marco Paschke. The final mastering is superb; the dynamics are fully preserved which makes the listening experience natural sounding and, above all, enjoyable. This solid production along with the fact that these are great songs, White’s debut is a standout release that has surpassed all my expectations.
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Having missed out on the first release from Om’s new line (a 7” as part of a Sub Pop subscription series that sold out quicker than I can type this sentence), I was apprehensive as to how Amos would fit into Om considering his playing in Grails requires a completely different approach to drumming compared to drumming with Cisneros. Any fears I had dissipated within seconds of the album starting. Emil grooves along with Al’s distinctive bass with a natural fluidity that makes mockery of the fact that the duo have only been playing together for about a year. Starting with “Flight of the Eagle” (the track listing is reversed compared to the studio album), Cisneros and Amos go straight for the jugular. Emil has a more forceful and punchy style of playing, each hit sounding clear and tight compared to Hakius’ gentler touch. One thing that does bug me a little is that Al’s voice sounds a little burned out (but based on the clouds of smoke coming from his direction during a concert, this is no real surprise).
On the other side, “At Giza” sees the group quiet down as Cisneros goes into his more mantric style of singing. This song gives both Emil and Al room to play around with the arrangement than the relentless surge of “Flight of the Eagle.” Amos punctuates his steady beat with some tasteful fills, trading moments in the spotlight with Cisneros’ hypnotic bass playing. Here “At Giza” is more contemplative than previously documented, even the final few minutes where the overdriven bass kicks in lacks the fierce power than before. It took me a while to get used to this (that overdriven bass bit being my top Om moment) but it works well if not as mind blowing as I am used to.
Conference Live is a solid live album but at the end of the day, it does not come close to the original studio recording or indeed capture the body massaging power of the actual concert experience. However, it is a nice teaser for what to expect from Om’s forthcoming studio album God is Good. If a two piece band, especially one where the two members have worked together for so long, can undergo such a massive change in personnel and come out this strong on the old material then I high hopes for their future recordings.
This album is currently vinyl only so unfortunately no sound samples at this point in time, apologies!
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In Between Dreams opens with “Set Me on Fire” which is as much indebted to The Mamas and the Papas as it is to Sonic Youth. Discordant guitars grind and pulse as Bindeman’s fog-drenched vocals echo through the noisy melodies. On “Venus in the Ape House,” Bindeman perverts the rhythm and mood from Die Haut’s “Stowaway” before it collapses in on itself like the more electric parts of The Velvet Underground’s White Light/White Heat. At this point, it sounds like Bindeman is all homage and has no tricks of his own but his work as Tunnels is as much about experimenting with his own playing as it is about using tried and tested techniques on the guitar.
The shorter side B sees Bindeman extend the range of his music further. Unusual percussion and the sound of celestial strings spar with a big, meaty fuzz guitar line on “Web.” It is here that he sounds at his most free, trying out ways of upsetting any notion of songcraft but without letting the music turn into a dirge or generic free improv. He launches himself out even further with “Hetty Witch,” forgoing the guitar altogether to make an eerie and ghostly abstract soundscape.
Overall, In Between Dreams is an exhilarating release that blends familiar rock ancestry into an unfamiliar context, making those tired old moves sound fresh again. Considering it is a cheap release due to the format, it is well worth hunting down (provided you still have a tape deck of course).
This album is currently on cassette only so unfortunately no sound samples at this point in time, apologies!
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"MILH" throws out a raw guitar feedback squall over a simple, yet effective descending guitar melody. It is a similar structure to the full length, marrying the subtle melody with the harsher noisy stuff. Death metal type growl vocals do make an appearance, but in a subtle way that doesn’t clash with the Stoic structure. The dynamic vocals balance out the static melody well, and the entire track has a harsh noise edge to it.
"IHVH" gives the vocals a bit more of the spotlight, but shuns the melody for the sake of shimmering guitar noise and a monotone drum machine rhythm. It isn’t’ quite as calculatedly minimal, and has more of a dynamic, noise infused metal vibe to it.
Miller is definitively cultivating his own sound with Horseback, but it’s especially good to hear him trying variations of a theme. Not many folks would try and mix Charlemagne Palestine and Emperor, with just a smidge of My Bloody Valentine and Skullflower, but that’s what this single is doing.
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The Stillbirth track, "The View Untangled" opens with slow, menacing vibrations that are coupled with cutting shards of distorted noise. However, there is the occasional fragment of what sounds like an organ arising from the mist, and pieces of shortwave radio transmissions that are obvious, but just a bit too out of focus to be comprehended.
Dom Fernow’s "Where Secrets are Guarded" begins with rudimentary synth sequences that could be on a much more "pop" friendly track, but when mixed with the abstract rattling percussion and wavering tempo it won’t be on the soundtrack to any teen-oriented TV show this fall. The addition of the pained, moaning vocals and calm, lightly processed spoken word material keeps it in Prurient territory, though definitively in the more sparse, reflective category.
Clocking in at barely over six minutes, this split is a bit shorter than it should be, because it is a great example of two artists refining their own styles and expanding the boundaries of noise as more than just chains of distortion pedals and misogyny.
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In Michael Gira’s description of Magic Neighbor, he mentions that it reminds him of early Disney songs. Despite my longstanding love of Germano's work and my intense antipathy towards all things Disney, I have to agree with him a bit. This album seems like it could have been a soundtrack to a movie (perhaps about a very sensitive and lonely unicorn) that had to be scrapped because the music made all the children in the focus groups cry. This odd association is largely rooted in Lisa’s conspicuous new divergence from traditional pop song structures, as many of the songs here do not follow a regimented verse/chorus trajectory. Instead, chorus-like interludes seem to burst forth from Lisa’s murky, baroque, and eerily carnival-esque ballads at seemingly arbitrary and unexpected times.
Of course, all of the things that make Germano such an endearing and idiosyncratic artist are still here: touchingly melancholy and smoky vocals, gauzy and dreamlike production, sprightly pianos tinged with sadness, and beautifully arranged strings. However, there are also several new elements that don’t quite work seamlessly yet, such as a propensity for plunging into cheery major key passages and the aforementioned diffuse structure. Also, Magic Neighbor suffers a bit from a lack of characteristic bite, dark humor, and nocturnal surrealism (though both “Suli-mon” and the title song get a bit mind-bending at times). The songs that work best are those that remain most firmly rooted in her past work, such as “The Prince of Plati” and the aching, wistful “Snow.” Much of the remainder of this rather brief album has the feel of a drifting series of interludes, so individual tracks don’t stand out much. It is rare for an artist's work to become less accessible at the same time that it becomes less emotionally uncomfortable, but that is exactly what has happened here.
Magic Neighbor is an intriguing and generally pleasant experiment, but there is nothing here besides “Snow” that comes close to standing with her best material (I don’t think I have been let down by one of her albums since 1996’s Excerpts From A Love Circus). Nevertheless, I am pleased and relieved that she is still writing new songs and straining to expand her sound into something new. Her previous work always felt like an ephemeral and unsettlingly intimate glimpse into the edges of a very dark and weird place, but it seems like that place has become quite a bit brighter as of late.
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The first of the two heavy slabs of vinyl in here is the actual LP, and it opens with "Muslim Brotherhood," which is undeniably Muslimgauze with its fuzzed out tablas, tortured violins, and low, dubby bass that can work a subwoofer over something proper. And it wouldn’t be Muslimgauze without a sizable portion of random tape stops and stutters. "Kashmiri Queens" is similar with its tapes of Middle Eastern horns and skittering fragments of rhythm.
The title track is a more complex mish-mash of hip-hop beats, rattlesnake hisses, and bizarre blips, and "Rabid Zionist Dog Muzzle" also brings the rhythm in the form of heavily distorted electronic drums and random sound collages. "Dogheadgod" also showcases a wonderful steady rhythm that is complimented by a slow, heavy bass line that rivals anything from most dub recordings in the past 20 years.
The two tracks on the 12" that is included are a bit more varied, but again, nothing that is going to shock or amaze. "Elect Izlamic Jihad" is all pegged out to the point of clipping drums, echoed beeps, and fragments of voice that have more of a layered, collage feel to them. On the flip side, "Dimple Kapadia Mumbai" (I think I got an email with that subject line selling me penis pills the other day) has a thick grimy layer of vinyl surface noise atop the usual beats and voice samples.
Unfortunately the most captivating tracks are simply too short. "Zion Junkie," for example, has a locked steady rhythm and junk percussion that just has a different feel to it from the usual distortion and tablas. "Gaza Strip" also goes a bit off on its own tangent, with cut up harmonica and pots & pans percussion, and field recordings mixed together to unique effect.
It’s not fair to expect any drastic developments or variations on this sort of archival recording, but Cobra Head Soup is sonically interchangeable with so many other albums from Jones. It is not a bad release by any means, but the casual fan (such as myself) wouldn’t be doing themselves a disservice by passing on it.
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While the prior works in this series had been largely focused on the more bleak and dark sounds, this work lets in a bit more of the light that had been otherwise obscured over time. The disc opens and closes with tracks that focus on light ambient ethereal sounds that on their own are rather beautiful, but take on an entirely different quality given the distant, haunting vocals of Ohara, sounding like a spirit channeling from other worlds.
Both "Head Found in Aptos" and "Spiritless" mix the dark vocals with heavier guitar riffs that infringe upon metal territory, but are only one part of a much more diverse compositions. The former combines heavier guitar with more ambient riffs, ending with layers of string-like textures. The latter is longer and mixes softer electronics with the deeper metal riffs, but eventually slipping away to reveal unabashedly beautiful tones to conclude the track.
The remaining tracks pull some of the darker layers away to focus on the more ethereal elements. "White Wax Blood" has subtle low frequency elements but gentle, chiming guitar notes that are much more 4AD than Southern Lord. The creepy, dissonant vocals remain, but the other elements of the track overshadow the darkness. Even the occasional dank basement from hell low end doesn’t drag the track downward. "Hemming" mixes gentle guitar strums, backward notes, and light synth work with some more obscure, sinister elements. It’s a disparate combination of sounds that manages to actually come together beautifully.
The closing "Picture of Time and Space/Out" strips everything down to simply the vocals of Ohara and some treatments of them, mixing heavily effected vocals with the pure ones, ending the album (and series) with some sense of closure, as isolated and frozen as it may sound.
Like the Arc series that preceded it, the URSK series of albums curated by Keith Utech has assembled various practitioners of dark, droning sound to wonderful effect, with the known artists doing some of their best work, while aiding in the younger folks getting a bit more attention. Stephen Kasner’s visual art that accompanied each of these releases have been the perfect metaphor as well: dark, grimy paintings, but small fragments of light escaping describes the sound of most of these albums, but this one especially. It is a haunting finish to a memorable set of albums.
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Coalition of Artists & Share Holders (CASH)
Speedbath gradually came into being as a pay-what-you-like series of downloads in which Hersh posted one song each month for a year (with accompanying artwork and some background about each song’s conception). Complete creative freedom can be an intimidating environment to thrive in, but Kristin has clearly been quite fertile. Always a uniquely human artist, the success or failure of her past work has historically been heavily reliant on how much passion and enthusiasm has been poured into it and how much her raw charisma has been smothered or smoothed-over by slick production. Speedbath, happily, is one of the more soul-baring and undiluted albums of her career.
The album begins quite strongly, as “Slippershell” and “Torque” seethe with conviction and rueful catharsis. The haunting third song, “Around Dusk,” however, is a stone-cold career highlight. The delicate acoustic guitars are beautiful, the quivering electric guitars are perfectly placed, the vocals are mesmerizing, the backing vocals are haunting, and the lyrics are darkly poetic (“throw your arms around me, wrapping the night in ugly harmony”). The fragile and hazy “Elizabeth June” (about a departed friend) is another stunner, as is the title track, with its vaguely Latin percussion and scathing chorus of “and you were so goddamn cold.” In fact, there is very little that can be considered weak here, as even the lesser tracks often yield some striking moments or particularly inspired lyrics. Hersh has not sounded this vital in a while and seems to be only getting better as a lyricist.
My only minor quibble is that Speedbath is a bit too rooted in contemporary indie rock sounds and textures for my liking. Obviously, it makes sense, given Hersh’s previous work as a Throwing Muse, but it fixes her songs very firmly in a time period. Her folkier, more acoustic outings (like Murder, Misery, and Then Goodnight or the beloved Hips and Makers album) still sound fresh many years later. Several songs on Speedbath, however, have a definite “sell by” date for varying reasons (the pseudo-trip hop drums in “Around Dusk” are one example, the fuzzy guitars in the chorus of “Slippershell” are another). Catchy beats and distorted guitars certainly make songs more rocking and immediately gratifying, but Kristin at her best is intense enough to be compelling without such crutches.
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"You've Gone Too Far" might as well be the mantra Mark and Jenha worked from while recording Marlone. The Patron wasn't exactly an extravagant album, however the latest from this Minneapolis based duo is far more concerned with restraint and economy than its predecessor was. The aforementioned opening song builds and develops slowly, putting numerous textures and Jenha's lovely vocals to good use. Wilhelm's voice is, in fact, the single most important instrument on the album and also one of the most diverse. Without her, certain songs would fall apart or simply dissolve before they could evolve. On the other hand, her sometimes haunting melodies wouldn't sound nearly as impressive as they do if it weren't for Mark's churning blend of guitar, bass, violin, and drums. Blasts of noise aren't quite as important this time around as continuity and thick-as-a-brick atmospheres are, but waves of feedback, drone, and distortion still play a significant role on nearly every song. If nothing else, Marlone is a further refinement of the music we heard on The Patron, but there are places where To Kill A Petty Bourgeoisie have altered their sound more radically and produced music far richer than anything from their past. Those moments are Marlone's defining ones. While some of the album proceeds at the same patient pace as past efforts, the band frequently ventures off into new territory with exotic and more exciting results.
"The Needle" is the first sign that TKAPB are ready to travel beyond their comfort zone. After "You've Gone Too Far" fades away, a pulsing keyboard melody and a thumping drum set emerge from the silence like a predator hunting down frightened prey. But this pace doesn't last long and the song quickly segues into a drift of low-end melody and Jenha's airy voice. Splashes of percussion and metallic noise swirl about her like a threatening presence, but they only break free and scream toward the end of the song. Even then, the name of the game is impressionism: Mark and Jenha's music breathes and hisses more than it punches or attacks. The upbeat, nearly dancey rhythm promised at the beginning of "The Needle" doesn't show up again until six songs later, when "In Peoples' Homes" kicks the album into serious overdrive. In the interim songs develop throbbing rhythms, but they all move in unison like a blob. Even where sharp rhythms are distinctly heard, McGee's production overtakes them with blends of melody, string textures, organic noise, and big doomy blasts of bass drums and cymbals. At times this combo manifests a romantic tone, but a kind of barren dread can be felt throughout the record, too. It's as if Mark and Jenha were performing from the other side of the apocalypse.
Still, whispers of hope and even happiness are implied on the album, as in the conclusion to "I Will Hang My Cape in Your Closet." For nearly three minutes TKAPB prepare to take off and soar into the heavens, readying themselves to escape the dark and dimly lit world in which they have always lived. Of course, this preparation is summarily erased by an eerie transition and a giant, almost mechanical blast of distortion and martial rhythm. Because an uncanny mood dominates much of the record, a sense of monotony marks parts of the record. It takes four whole songs and part of a fifth for McGee and Wilhelm to break out of their mold and produce something with a little pep to it. This could be read as a mark of dedication and consistency, but Mark and Jenha blend their influences so well that I think more variety could've enhanced the album.
Happily, "In Peoples' Homes" explodes near the end of the album and delivers a much needed surge of strong melody and succinct songwriting. Where previous songs either relied upon Jenha alone for melodic content or shared melodic duties among various instruments at various times, "In Peoples' Homes" puts all the cards on the table at once. It is the closest the band has come to writing a pop song and its rather upbeat performance is a show stealer. The first time through, it was the most shocking thing on the album. Its yearning violin line and Jenha's playful vocals contrast sharply the sludge and droney mass that makes up the rest of the album. Upon repeat listens it isn't quite so shocking; its place on the record makes good sense and marks one of the album's highest peaks. And though its violins, acoustic drums, and clean guitar lines make for a more open sound, Marlone still shows off a dense attitude. One of the band's defining attributes is its willingness to move at a glacial pace; "Turritopsis" and "Summertime" are perfect examples of this. Big, chunky strokes of sound define both songs, which mix McGee's love for noise with major chords and an altogether bright production. Without a doubt, this is a far less destructive record than The Patron. It's also more diverse and, for that reason, a more pleasing record.
By shedding some of the darkness surrounding them, TKAPB have crafted an album with as much light to it as darkness. This lends Marlone a romantic tone, maybe even a tragic one. In any case, the freedom realized in incorporating further pop elements into their sound is significant. It both contrasts their typically intense and cinematic vision and provides it with some much welcomed depth. Without it, Marlone wouldn't be the big step forward that it is.
It is worth noting that the copy of Marlone I received has some regretably blurry text settled among the already dark artwork. I understand that black and grey make an attractive couple, but reading the song titles and the contributor's names in the liner notes was far more difficult than it should be. This is maybe a minor complaint, but it would be nice if I didn't have to strain my eyes to figure out who engineered the album and provided the artwork!
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