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Beyond the Wizard's Sleeve, "West"
3rd Mynd
Although their name alternately suggests a Tolkien-inspired progressive rock group, or a tasteless pussy joke, Beyond the Wizard's Sleeve is actually an audacious musical hybrid that is much more tasteful than either of these two possible meanings would seem to indicate. BTWS is DJ/producer Erol Alkan working with Richard Norris, the experimental dance producer who was one-half of The Grid, and part of Psychic TV during the Jack the Tab years. Together, these two have birthed an entirely new genre, carefully editing and looping old psychedelic pop, mod and garage records from the 1960s into hypnotic, blissed out dancefloor anthems. In this, the Age of Recycled Culture, the idea of turning old freakbeat and krautrock records into repetitive, open-ended, mixable dance jams is one whose time has come. The rapturous hedonism created by these heady mixes is indescribable: a strange mixture of borrowed nostalgia and thrilling novelty. Dance music has always been psychedelic, and by literalizing the connection between 60s psychedelia and 00s club culture, Alkan and Norris outdo PTV at their own game. BTWS have been DJing parties for the past couple years, spinning sets that contain nary a track from the DFA or Ed Banger. Instead, you might hear an extended remix of The Rolling Stones' "2000 Light Years From Home," fading into a hallucinogenic reworking of The Hollies' "King Midas In Reverse," rubbing shoulders with a perversely retooled version of The Monkees' "Can You Dig It?" Because their music relies so heavily on old records—for which there can be no doubt that they have not received copyright clearance—their 12" EPs are released on the fly-by-night label 3rd Mynd, quickly going of print. This newest release contains six tracks of lysergic weirdness to make clubbers of all levels of intoxication see trails. The intro "Space" is a tape-delayed loop of William Shatner's opening monologue from the original Star Trek series, a deliciously campy way to kick things off. Things get further out with "Get Ready to Fly," which has an awesome swirling horn loop and typically starry-eyed vocals: "Get ready to fly/We'll see silver birds in the sky." On the b-side, "You Can Talk To Me" is a re-edit of The Beatles' "Hey Bulldog," emphasizing the jaunty rhythm section, looping John Lennon's vocals to raucous, anthemic effect. Free love, free acid and nouveau riche Euro club trash: this is the kind of party I want to be invited to.
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Hercules & Love Affair, "Blind"
DFA
Hercules & Love Affair are a new signing to the DFA imprint, the work of Andy Butler, a house music classicist through and through. His previous 12" for DFA ("Classique #2") was a superlative exercise in purism: velvety basslines, crisp drum programming, and an atmospheric vocal refrain in the classic diva mold. The b-side ("Roar") was in the same vein, but a bit more maximalist, hard-hitting, and enlivened with a slight but unmistakable vocal contribution from one Antony Hegarty, queer troubador and perhaps the most sought-after guest vocalist after T-Pain. This new single is a teaser for the upcoming full-length album, containing three versions of "Blind," a song that dispenses with much of the house-style synthesis of "Classique #2" in order to go full-tilt disco. Butler approaches this sophisticated, downtown disco with the same determined purism that he approached house music with, creating a sparkling concoction of congos, handclaps, organic bass, shimmering synth arpeggiations, horn fanfares and a full vocal contribution from Antony. The lyrics have all the melodrama of a classic Sylvester side, with perhaps a bit more gay pathos: "As a child I knew, that the stars would only get brighter/And we would get closer/Leaving this darkness behind." The track is fabulously well-produced and unashamedly over-the-top. This CD single contains the album version of the track, an extended club mix that emphasizes the kicks and synth-lines, and an instrumental version. All this bodes very well for Butler's upcoming full-length, which has the potential to be one of the best albums released for DFA after a run of recent lackluster efforts from the likes of LCD Soundsystem, Black Dice and the Shocking Pinks. Hercules & Love Affair is the perfect addition to the DFA stable.
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Underground Resistance, "Footwars"
UR
The recent music issued from the UR camp has focused on organic, seemingly live percussion (no plasticated 909 thumps) forming the backbone for cannily constructed, uptempo tracks that finally stick their head out of the deep, dark subterranean hole in which the UR collective has been firmly ensconced for years. There's nothing subaquatic, scratchy or vague sounding about the main attraction on this recently issued 12", called "Detroit vs. Chicago." The song is all energy and bounce, almost lighthearted when compared to classic UR missives, which literalized the post-industrial wasteland of Detroit in audio form. Perhaps this is because the battle metaphor being employed here calls for something more extroverted and confrontational, rather than cerebral and withdrawn. Either way, this is a fucking ridiculously great slab of vinyl, pitting two long-standing dance cultures against each other, an insistent beat joined by an irresistable, badonka-donk bassline. Two small vocal snippets, neither of which I can decipher, form a call-and-response as the track unfolds, never afraid to push repetition to its limits, but always giving up the goods. The goods come in the form of some wicked samples that sound like an old car engine being forced to start against its will. The b-side contains two instrumental versions, perfect for creating your own mash-ups, or using as a backing track for a freestyle rap.
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Matthew Dear, "Don and Sherri"
Ghostly International
Matthew Dear's Asa Breed was probably my favorite album of 2007. It was certainly the album I listened to the most, representing the perfect musical marriage of heaven and hell. Dear's intensely rendered machinic beat constructions, moody baritone vocals, dark grainy atmospheres and bizarrely out-of-tune instrumentation conspired to create one of the only albums I've ever heard that convincingly bridges the gap between cutting-edge techno and urbane pop. This 12" on Ghostly contains several versions of one of Asa Breed's standout tracks, the druggy, esoteric "Don and Sherri," a disorienting and queasy song that hits all the right notes, even as it utterly dislocates. The track seems ripe for the remix treatment, but only one of the versions included here arrive at worthwhile results. M.A.N.D.Y. attempts to rework the song into a variatinion on A Number of Names' "Sharevari." The attempt is admirable, but the penchant for whimsicality and eclecticism on the display do the track a disservice, and I can't imagine returning for another go-round. Hot Chip's remix, however, is stunning, upping the pop quotient by several degrees, foregrounding Dear's vocals and surrounding them with 10CC-style textural atmospherics and ethereal background vocals. An instrumental version of the Hot Chip remix is also included, nice but superfluous. The EP concludes with a DJ Koze remix of my favorite Asa Breed track, "Elementary Lover." By stripping away some of the grime from the track and constructing his own kitschy, cartoonish, technicolor backing for Dear's wry vocals, DJ Koze succeeds at completely recontextualizing the song, but in a way which never seems forced or false. I'm not sure if any of this stuff would work particularly well for any but the most adventurous, avant-garde DJ sets, but in my book, that's a positive.
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Fischerspooner, "The Best Revenge"
Kitsune Maison
Poor Fischerspooner: their sophomore album Odyssey tanked hard, unfavorably (and perhaps inevitably) compared to their breakthrough debut album. The accompanying tour was a study in failure, Messrs. Spooner and Fischer making the bonehead decision to forsake everything for which they were known: intensely visual live peformances, lip-syncing, synchronized dancing, costume changes and avant-garde theater tactics. In their place, all audiences got was the sneering, talentless Casey Spooner on an ego trip doing poorly rendered versions of FS songs with a live band. Mercifully, the tour was cancelled halfway through. It was a gamble that didn't pay off, not even slightly. No one goes to a Fischerspooner show expecting integrity and authenticity; they go because they want something gloriously superficial, outrageous and campy. I'm not sure if the existence of this new 12" single, recently released on the French Kitsune Maison label, is any indication that FS have been quietly and unceremoniously released from their major label contract, but you certainly couldn't blame Capitol for dropping them like a hot potato. In any case, this single sucks major ass, and sounds so phoned in that it might as well have been recorded on voice mail. Trading on the time-honored cliche that "the best revenge is living well," Spooner sings about his wealthy lifestyle over a plodding, overworked track that sounds like a Robert Palmer b-side from the mid-1980s, only not as fresh or clever. The extended, compression-house "Autokratz Righteous Retribution Mix" improves slightly upon its source material, by dispensing with the vocals, locating an actual "groove" and running with it. Alex Gopher's "Retaliation Remix" pushes the track into darker territory, a pulse-pounding rave-up complete with cheesy, dramatic breaks. It's not very good, I'm afraid, though it sure beats the original. I think that Fischerspooner should just quit while they're still behind, but since when has good judgment and restraint ever been a part of this project?
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This is indeed an adventurous release, composed essentially of one lengthy organ (and what sounds like a sitar) drone track broken up into three equal segments of just over 15 minutes' duration each. For any fan of either Organum or drone epics then this is something of a treat: the use of the swirling organ—with occasional interjections of bass counterpoints—lends this an utterly uplifting and deeply spiritual, sacral, and contemplative quality. This does indeed sound as if an organ from some huge cathedral or grotto was employed in its creation; the overall effect is one of vast spaces being filled with the music, all the while resonating with and echoing off of centuries-old stone edifices. Simultaneously the organ also invests the track with a warmth and closeness that made me want to wrap myself in it—this whole piece felt like an all-enveloping blanket of reassuring sound. As a consequence this is definitely one of those releases that seemingly not only gets into the brain to stimulate the intellectual and spiritual centers but also has the capacity to resonate at the physical level too; I almost expected my diaphragm and brain to start vibrating in sympathy with it, such is the depth and strength of the music and the bass drones.
It seems almost profane to describe Omega in any way other than spiritual or sacral. This could possibly be classified as a reinvigoration of sacred English and European baroque church music of which this seems to be an heir, with both a reinterpretation of that style and a re-alignment in conformation to a 21st century aesthetic. Although in many ways it could be argued that this is quite static and fails to evolve over the entire 45 minute length. I don't think that that's the point here; in combination with that uplifting quality I spoke of previously there is also a sublime sense of timelessness evident, almost verging on the eternal—almost as if once started then it will continue forever, until indeed the universe attains its own ultimate omega. Just like there are always beginnings somewhere out there in the limitless universe, so too there are endings—and this is a beautifully uplifting rendering of those very eternally-occurring endings (omegas).
(As an aside, after having listened to this about three or four times continuously, I felt slightly light-headed - I wonder if it was because of the effect the music was having on me...)
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Luigi Tenco's best work is quite magnificent. His "Lontano Lontano" puts romance in the context of a human lifespan, with irony, regret, and a kind of ecstatic madness. The song is a delicate balance of agony, joy, and sadness with its irresistible opening lines setting the tone: "And one day a long, long, time from now, you'll see something in the eyes of somebody/And that something will remind you of me, and my eyes that once loved you so much."
Steven Brown formed Tuxedomoon in San Francisco in 1977 and the group released several records on the Residents' Ralph label. They relocated to Europe and that is probably where he discovered the recordings of Luigi Tenco. Brown's thoroughly convincing version of Tenco's material, in both English and Italian, has an air of tragedy and the wistful quality of a slightly unhinged Bowie. His view of "Ciao Amore Ciao" is almost the exact opposite of mine but we arrive at the same conclusion: "On one level it sounds like a rock ballad, but when you listen to the lyrics (and the delivery of those lyrics) this song pulls itself into another realm altogether; behind the veneer behind the gloss into yourself. If that had been the only Tenco song I ever heard, it would have been enough."
After playing in high school jazz bands, Tenco played professionally with I Cavaieri (The Knights) under the pseudonym Gigi Mai. In 1961 he issued "Quando," the first single under his real name and a little later he also flirted with acting and soundtrack music. After military service he signed with RCA and in 1966 released the wonderful "Un Giorno Dopo L'Altro" (One Day After Another). That same year Tenco fell in love with Italo-French singer Dalida. Perhaps against his will, the two performed at San Remo. On January 27, 1967 she found him dead in his hotel room, bullet wound in his left temple, suicide note nearby. Tenco and Dalida had become engaged just a few days earlier. Apparently the judges downplayed his death and the contest continued. Ah showbiz!
The backing on most of these tracks is terrific with suitably sparse piano, saxophone, double bass, clarinet, flute and light percussion. Five pieces are a re-release of a 1988 mini-album originally issued on the Industrie Discographiche Lacerba label. The 12 additional songs include Brown solo material ("Besides All That," "R.W.F.") several Tuxedomoon tracks such as "What Use?," and some interesting live recordings. All this make Brown Plays Tenco a consistent and appealing record.
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Francesco Gemelli, the High Priest of these hidden currents, leads a guided sonic exploratory tour of the dark occult catacomb spaces of the world where the shades of the dead wander aimlessly through barren landscapes, a place where even spirit no longer sheds its numinous light. EIDVLON is a Greek word denoting an insubstantial shade, an image that possesses no depth; Gemelli here uses it as a pejorative, applying it to the empty spirituality of the modern world, where the substituting of the idols of materialistic culture for the spiritual values inherent in the quest for the occult and spiritual is now a commonplace; where even the major religions have become nothing more than items in the superstore of beliefs, where the potential adherent can pick and choose a nice cosy belief-system to suit his/her needs and preferences. The spiritual landscape is bleak and uninviting to those who hear the true seeker's call; inevitably they must pass on to other pastures.
Consequently, Gemelli utilises the bleakest and darkest of catacomb sounds to describe this hollowness of the soul, where the spirit constantly mourns for the loss of its supremacy among the milling masses; the sounds appear to have been seemingly dragged from the belly of the beast itself. Granular crackling, the tolling of bells, tectonic crunches, subterranean rumblings, slow pounding reverb-soaked percussion, the lowest of prolonged bass grumblings and drones—these are the elements that Gemmelli conjures with to bring us his pessimistic vision of the slow ritualistic death of the soul and the supercession of the materialistic. The atmosphere is heavy and bleakly oppressive; it feels as if the velvet cloak of darkness abounding is completely impenetrable, and should any sliver of light dare to show itself it will be immediately snuffed out of existence. This is where hope ends and darkness begins.
For me, one of the strengths of this album is its very pessimism and cloyingly claustrophobic atmosphere, plus the sentiments expressed here tally quite closely with my own views on the subject; moreover Gemelli's use of his material expresses fully and clearly the ideas he intends to convey. He drags us down into the depths of the subterranean void to become participants in and witnesses to that final extinguishing of the light.
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They have not fully forgotten their more experimental past, however. As all previous Der Blutharsch releases, all eight tracks are untitled, but in this case the vocals make it a bit more obvious what titles could be (for example, track six would surely be the title track on a more conventional project). Even with the more conventional rock structures and instrumentation, the band retains their signature depth and complexity of the mix: never does a track feel as if it was built on just the traditional guitar/bass/drums/vocal framework, even though individual instruments can be clearly identified.
As a whole, the sound seems to be heavily inspired by 1960s psychedelia, the ubiquitous Velvet Underground, 1980s goth rock, and the more current experiments in post-industrial music. The songs move along with a relatively conventional pop/rock feel, but a closer inspection of the individual elements gives it a more varied, complex structure and sonic pallet than what would be expected from "rock and roll".
Luckily the tracks tend to stay in the conventional 4-6 minute length for rock songs (with the exception of the final 12-ish minute one, excluding the "hidden" track), because structurally, they tend to be rather repetitive. There aren't many cases of subtle shifts in dynamics or instrumentation, the songs mostly start up at a certain pace and continue throughout their duration as such. Because of the fact that tracks do feature vocals and stay in a more reasonable duration, they do not overstay their welcome. It’s hard to level this as a criticism per se, because, well, that’s how most conventional rock music is designed as well, so it’s another portion of the template being followed.
The vocals tend to be a mixed bag, however. The tracks with a heavier emphasis on vocals by Marthynna, such as the opening and closing tracks, are more pleasant to these ears. The more masculine vocal tracks, like the third and fifth, channel less melodramatic elements of Glenn Danzig and Nick Cave. The lyrical content on track five is, however, all Danzig, in a bad way: trite, cheesy S&M tinged lyrics that border on comical and blight a track that otherwise is a pretty interesting combination of odd percussion and a distorted bass led groove.
The final two tracks stand out as probably the most different on the album, with the seventh one having a more propulsive, almost heavy metal pace from a rhythmic standpoint, and more aggressive vocals throughout. I guess it is about as metal as a song can get with a predominant clarinet section, however. The final, long track that I have already mentioned does, over its 12-minute duration, show more dynamics and development than the previous shorter ones, so perhaps its DB's way of instituting a bit of good old-fashioned Kraut Rock as well. The constantly varying mix and dynamics are quite fascinating, and the alternating male/female vocals with a touch of violin from Matt Howden are a great combination. The "hidden" track is, admittedly a bit corny: spoken word about knowing "the truth" and the paranoia of keeping it hidden over a repetitive synthetic beat. It's not bad, but again, one of the lower points of the disc.
I can't compare this to any of their other releases I know of theirs, but I can say that it is an interesting mix of the more experimental stylings of the past placed into a more conventional "rock and roll" structure that gives it a rather individual sound that, even with its warts, is still engaging.
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The relatively brief "Interlude 1" that opens the album sets the precedent for the remaining time well: gentle hovering tones excised from guitar recordings by Lawrence English that are stripped down to their barest melodic essences. Subtle digital buzzing that enshrouds the track gives it a more textural quality that is matched with the deeper electronic pulses well. The remaining "Interlude" tracks, sprinkled throughout the album, all follow a similar mood, probably due to being based on the same source material. That is not to say that they are too similar, which isn't true at all, they simply stay with that formula of an icy, predominant melody with clicky surface noises around the mix, a digital dirtying of otherwise digitally pure sound.
The electronic grime begins to show up a bit more on two more guitar-based tracks, both based on guitar by Ben Frost. Never straying into anything resembling noise or utter dissonance, elements of static creep in and make themselves a bit more pronounced over these two longer tracks. "These 1" is the longer of these two tracks, clocking in at over 17 minutes and, although it is based on extremely simple and repetitive tones, the subtle shifts in dynamics around them keep it from stretching into boredom and instead maintains an hypnotic feel that is not easly ignored.
The remaining track, the 20-minute "Falter," differs not only in its source material (in this case a piano recordings by Bernd Schuer) but in its overall structure and approach. Rather than focusing exclusively on melody, there is more of a rhythmic element here from the more predominant crunchy textural loops and odd transient hums and buzzes. Instead of being all about the melody, it stays more wide open and spacy and feels constantly shifting and changing. Interestingly the raw piano recordings almost come out from the digital processing midway through, which makes for a captivating shift.
Basis is actually a rather warm, inviting take on a style that often is too content to remain in its ivory tower of complexity and cold inorganic sounds. By allowing more of the melody that is associated with the traditional acoustic instruments that form the core of these recordings, Steinbrüchel has also let the humanity in, which makes for a much more pleasant experience, not just those who know how to build a MAX/MSP patch.
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Touching on the kind of cleaned-up post industrial space that no one has really divined yet, these tracks sing back to the time when reel-to-reels opened up minds to ways forward. That era's undeveloped and burgeoning sense of investigation is rebirthed here (without the tape technology), leaving plenty of space for intrepretive input to play a part.
With snatches of spoken word seemingly taken from larger scattered diaries/narratives, different pieces of emphasis placed on different elements giving weight to multiple interpretations. The 'Dover, Calais' lyric of "Caught in Traffic" combined with a tolling bell has the open water ache of a watery journey, despite there being little, if actually anything, to support this. This cut-up prose works in several ways across this volume of Roman Concrete, some of this harking back to the early vocal experiments of Richard Youngs, chopped for source material and lowered into a local well for recording. There is the menace in the echoic lost voices of overheard hallway conversations and the broken snatches of UFO narrative of tracks like "Touchdown in Rochdale." This speaks of secrecy and hidden diaries. The music used throughout is built from a menagerie of friendless sounds: a harsh edged abandoned bed of sci-fi bleeps, squandered searchlight guitar, and electronic trivialities.
Coiling tapes and shortwave shudders are interleaved through the record, footage from blue ambient motion pictures generating a jagged soundtrack. With all this unconnected energy bouncing around it is a real curve ball when "British Train Journey" arrives. It is the most structured piece here, having a kind of simple stylophone / travelling Kraftwerk mood that touches on the squelch of the electronica that bridged the electronic ages.
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Even in an area of music known for being quite avant-garde and experimental, Morning of my Life takes some risks, the most notable being that this is one single track, in six movements, and lasting for the full 41:59 duration. Announcing itself boldly with alarmingly uncomfortable woodwind screeches (which also make an appearance towards the end), one could be forgiven for imagining that Dunger's early life was no bed of roses, yet his languid and highly expressive singing voice is more attuned to expressing longing and regret, for a world that has been lost to the past and never to be regained. The emotional tension that exists between Dunger's hurt and heartfelt delivery and the cacophonous clashing of the instrumentation (trumpet, flute, clarinet, accordion, violin, guitar, and drums) is what provides the spark and the impetus to elevate this from the merely melodramatically self-indulgent into a work of catharsis and stained beauty. Moving as it does from the acoustic fragility of the first movement through to psychedelic excess, with Dunger's voice reflecting the changes by starting gently and melodically, and thence gradually to screaming anguish, I not only shared in the emotional intensity but also directly responded to the appeal to empathise with his frustration and inadequacy when it comes to affecting time—the past is the past and has so famously been said, it is another country, forever out of reach. The shatteringly inevitable truth is that no matter how much we yearn for those moments that shaped us, they are unattainably beyond our experience.
As beautiful and as moving as I found this to be, I still found it to be something of an endurance test simply because of its length and also the fact that there are only four verses repeated throughout the piece—consequently this is not the sort of thing that I would just pop in to the CD tray just for something to listen to or use as simple background music. I would have to be in a specific mood to want to indulge in Morning of My Life, as it requires a level of emotional interaction that demands a certain commitment and concentration that could quite potentially be draining; plus its sheer length would mitigate against it being a frequent visitor to the CD player. In some respects though, this just goes to show how deeply felt this album is and how effectively communicated the emotions are.
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While the major hallmarks of Earth are all present (the drone, the unusual time signatures and the most gorgeous guitar tone this side of heaven), yet again there is a huge shift in aesthetic. Granted it is easy to see how Earth arrived at this sound compared to the leap between previous Earth albums and Hex. The sparse desert beauty of Hex and the more organic sounding Hibernaculm EP both hinted at this full, luscious approach to Dylan Carlson's musical vision. In interviews, Carlson has hinted that this would be Earth's gospel album and indeed there is a strong spiritual and southern American vibe to The Bees Made Honey… Although this is a spirituality that goes beyond praising the Lord and fully embraces the world beyond our own, a theme that has long been explored in Dylan's work.
The mood of this album is the inverse of the desperation pervading Hex. Instead of the Cormac McCarthy-esque sense of doom there is a hopeful air to the album. A bright new dawn is evident from the opening moments of the disc. The shuddering, stop-start rhythm of "Rise to Glory" captures an almost ecstatic glee; the joy of a new day after the cold night of Hex. This is followed with a wonderful reprise of "Miami Morning Coming Down" from Hibernaculum, very different to the original but oddly still instantly recognisable.
When I saw Earth previewing parts of The Bee Made Honey… live before Christmas, the stand out piece of the night was the title track of the album. "Just try to relax" was Carlson's instructions and no better direction can be given. Here the song is not quite as potent as the volume just simply cannot be replicated at home but the meditative tones of the piece still massage my brain into a place devoid of stress and worry. The liner notes to Earth2 may have been somewhat tongue-in-cheek with quotes from people whose tension headaches disappeared while listening to that album but I have found that Earth's music consistently helpful in de-stressing.
The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull is a superb record. It is by far and away the most easy listening album under the Earth name. Their music may have become more palatable and mainstream over the years but the intensity has never waned. Like their previous album, this will most likely attract a lot of people who have never heard of them before and this is no bad thing. They have long existed at the margins of the metal and grunge scenes and deserve to be more widely acknowledged than they currently are.
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Fuelled on empty tank dregs the bedridden vignette of "Troglodyte" is a bedlam of Birthday Party horns, a theme tune for something nobody wants to meet. Beginning with the sound of someone sandpapering a window into a mirror, "Animal Man Robot" comes through into our world with a swinging rockabilly shank. Made from paired down chunks of session solder, the sounds left intact are mixed into a Whirly-gig of colors, left turns, and heavy tread anthems.
The air of second-hand smoke flows through the album's darker edges, noir-esque broken sardine lid plinks and plonks bayonneting "Sunglasses" to the roof. Some of this album is plain mean, the hip-hop silhouette of a surly joker three-piece bearing over the records slower pieces. "My Sugar" has Peter Hook caught with his pants down, a bass line of low slung sleaze and synths like Vangelis in chip fat; God forbid you ever end up being this guy's sugar. Self-sampling seems to be the order of the day for Back From the Bins, demo loops providing window ledges to leap with the song from. There are seemingly familiar (but as yet unknown) samples at the neon night core of "Warning," a surprising atmosphere piece that recalls '90s laid-back Warp electronica left to float in the middle of the record. Guessmen also manage to offer a single, and unexpected, moment of reality with "Weeping Willow." This schmaltz-free and tear stained reminiscence is a shaft of sunlight of soul through the dusty window of booze.
Guessmen are exuding a joy through this album despite its noir threads. With the continual shitstorm of disposable pop music continuously restarting itself, instead of remonstrating with it or taking shelter, Guessmen are punching their weight in tunes.
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At first reference, this could easily end up pegged as a Pan Sonic side project, given that Ilpo Väisänen is one of the three members of Angel, but the music itself does not paint itself in that way, and other than the use of some textural electronic elements has no auditory connection with his other band. Don't take that as a slight against this project at all, it just an entirely different animal that, unfortunately, opens with a misstep that isn't disastrous, but isn't a high point either. The remaining three quarters, however, more than make up for it.
This misstep is the opening "Bones In The Sand," which tries to ape the current trend of Sunn O))) styled frozen monolith guitar riffs that become the focal point for the listener, drowning out the more nuanced guitar playing and electronic punctuation.The sound is admittedly less bleak and dark than what the robed ones usually release, but it also lacks their sense of theater and exaggeration, so rather than subwoofer rocking caveman riffing, it is more just repetitive chords.As the mix shifts to the more spacious and subtle electronic textures near the end, the level of interesting sounds also begins to increase.
The three remaining tracks that comprise the remainder of the disc more than make up for the doldrums of the opener, however.The rest of the album is more of a lurking, tension filled nod to film score ambience.Both "Kalmukia-The Discovery, Wiring, Invasion" and "Effect of Discovery, Test, Alarm, Catastrophy" are supported by thick, tangible drones of strings that layers of bizarre electronic manipulations are built upon.The former is overall very moody: buzzes of electronics sound like locusts waiting in the distance as the track slowly craws through its near 20 minute duration, becoming more and more tense as time elapses.The latter favors high pitched tinnitus bursts and other unidentifiable textures that somehow evoke a sense of being frozen in time, cold shards of digital sound enveloping the mix.
The concluding "Aftermath:The Mutation" has a somewhat lighter, more organic feel than the darkness of the preceding tracks.Its dramatic opening gives way to a deep thick mix of layered electronics, wobbling synth lines and tweeting oscillator birds flying around the rainforest.Instead of the cold, gray, bleak opening this feels much more organic, natural, and inviting.
Other than the pedantic attempt at drone metal that opens the album, the remainder is a captivating audio film that, without a specific narrative, instead allows us, the listeners, to construct our own meaning and story behind the images that the music creates.It truly feels like a film without the visuals being shown, but are instead created and given meaning by the listener.
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