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These Japanoise legends' first album since 1996 is a triumphant return, a single joyous no-nonsense extreme noise barrage lasting for 43:18, and their second album (after 1996's Flash) on the UK label Cold Spring. The trademark walls of fuzz-drenched guitar overlaid with howls and ear-splitting high-end keyboard screeching coupled with Mayuko Hino's vocals are all there and are a perfect recipe for further consolidating their status in the upper stratosphere of japanoise acts.C.C.C.C. (Cosmic Coincidence Control Centre) is porn star Mayuko Hino and her husband Hiroshi Hasegawa (YBO2, Astro & South Saturn Delta) with contributions from Fumio Kosakai (Hijokaidan & Incapacitants) and Ryuichi Nagakubo (Tangerine Dream Syndicate). It is worth noting that Hino believes that noise should be emotionally driven rather than intellectually, in other words it is a matter of being in the moment and expressing that moment in whatever way feels appropriate; she also believes that much can be gleaned of a performer's personality through the species of noise produced. On a personal note I think this is how the best abstract art operates, that every painting, drawing, or performance is representative of a particular point in time and a particular emotion. Without the straitjacket of intellectual underpinnings the results become less restricted and much freer with a much broader canvas on which to be expressed. Chaos is the Cosmos is painted with broad frenzied brushstrokes and with flailing abandon for the most part, slabs of guitar fuzz feedback and keyboard generated noise providing solid background for the sound of howling instruments being tortured and abused whilst Mayuko's voice and screams and screeching caterwauling guitar pick out the highlights. It never lets up for the entire length with the exception of a brief interlude that lasts about a couple of minutes. It then picks up the relentless tempo once more until the conclusion. It is the roiling boiling heat of chaos and creation—which is indeed the foundation of cosmos—that beneath every manifestation of apparent order there prevails, on some microscopic level, disorder; atoms and molecules colliding with and spinning off each other in eternal turmoil, planets, asteroids and huge star-systems tearing themselves apart and reforming in continuous galactic evolution. It is the black hole that swallows everything within its purview, rending and smashing, dissembling matter into its constituent particles in a violent whirlpool of wanton destruction.
This, however, is not to imply that this is just noise for the sake of it. There is constant evolution and invention, always something new to engage the ear, enervating the mind and listener. This is what marks this out above a great deal of noise: the sheer playfulness and inventiveness, and my attention was held for the full length of almost 45 minutes. This ever-changing and evolving piece reflects the hermetic dictum as above, so below it would appear—just like in the deepest reaches of our cosmos the engines of chaos bring order out of themselves in bursts of intense creation. Moreover, this monumental maelstrom of cacophony gives the distinct impression that it has always existed even before the play button was pressed to ON and that it will go on existing well after the CD has stopped. I would hope that C.C.C.C. will take the time to capture another glimpse of that eternal creation and unending destruction for us to enjoy sometime in the near future; at least I hope we don't have to wait another ten years before the next release.
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Two of ambient music's greatest strengths are conjuring up isolated locations and immense timelines. In Time Frost, Robin Storey uses them to imagine a Europe chilled by ocean currents altered by global warming. It is easy to be cynical about climate change as an artistic subject considering its status as Hollywood's pet-cause of the moment. Time Frost does something far more satisfying: it calls to mind vivid images that do not need to be interpreted through an ideology.
Considering the chilly subject matter, the album has a thick, full bodied sound. Storey used an old vinyl copy of Strauss' Blue Danube for much of the source material. Even though the piece is digitally processed beyond recognition, the richness of the orchestra and the snowy crackle of the record still remain. That analogue glow colors the sparse, unaccompanied loops, providing variety to the simple, repetitious song structures. Even in the arid, droning "Horizon Discrete," the fluidity of Strauss' music remains intact, like the wind blowing up drifts from a glacier.
The hypothetical waste-land that Storey envisions is not featureless and uniformly hostile. The time lapse waltz of "Thin Light" elegantly evokes a winter sunrise. Bubbly synthesizers mimic a thick, wet snow-shower in "A Color of Darkness." Without shouting the message, these tracks suggest that the world's beauty will continue, even if it becomes too hostile for us to live on it.
Despite a personal affinity for the natural world, music with environmental themes has always struck me as cheesy. Although the destruction humanity inflicts on the planet is truly dramatic, it is easier to make an episode of Captain Planet than a nuanced work of art. By remaining ambiguous, however, Time Frost has a much better chance of aging well than the bloated pontifications of Live Earth. Even if global warming is not your crusade, you can still sit back and enjoy this album. No moralizing is required.
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The second album since the adoption of the more formal sounding name of Carter Tutti is a strange beast. The title of the album made me expect a more violent and frenetic style but the duo show that being feral is not all about bared teeth and naked aggression. Feral can be more beautiful and tender than any tamed creature or thought. The music is wild in that it is free from much outside influence. Immediately it is obvious that no matter what the name on the CD case is, this is the same animal at heart.
There is a delicate and serene mood to Feral Vapours of the Silver Ether; the quiet piano melody of "Torn Window" is one of the loveliest things Carter and Tutti have done under any name. The imagery Cosey employs throughout the album is equally gorgeous; metaphysical and poetic at the same time, the ghost of William Blake haunting her lyrics. Almost a whisper and full of hope, her vocals are very much the silver ether of the album's title. Her voice is perfectly matched by her mournful cornet blasts, as primal as always but with a more controlled force. Chris Carter's electronic treatments and rhythms are barely there but add definition to the airy atmospheres, like thin embellishments with oils on a watercolour painting.
Compared to Chris and Cosey's other big album of the year (Throbbing Gristle's Part Two: The Endless Not), this is a far more satisfying release. Where I found the new TG to be good but far from a return to form (especially after the excellent TG Now from a couple of years ago), Feral Vapours… is as solid as any of Chris and Cosey's previous releases. There are some similar sonic territories being explored here as on Part Two (as expected really), the quieter and jazzier side of Part Two evidently owed a lot to this half of the group. "Breathless Endings" is of a similar vibe to TG's "Rabbit Snare"; a kind of dark blue.
With Feral Vapours…, Carter Tutti continue to progress. The pastoral approach they have adopted in recent years is as engaging as the more robust and danceable beats of Chris and Cosy. In all honesty I prefer this new approach, much like when Coil embraced their moon music fully and entered the most interesting part of their career. Whether this is going to be a long-term engagement with the gentler side of their music is anyone's guess but for now Carter Tutti are definitely piquing my interest more than Chris & Cosey did.
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I cannot say I am a hip hop guru (hip hop is for the most part is one of those "must investigate at a later date" areas of music for me) but I know what I like and I like Northern State. Although their new album is not consistently great, the bits that shine are bright enough to obscure the weaker moments. The album is fairly formulaic but these ladies have a charm which lets them carry the songs off.
Despite the feelings of musical inertia I sometimes get from Can I Keep This Pen? in terms of pushing the creative envelope, it is still an entertaining album. The rhymes are not bad; in some places they are geeky and funny, in others they are sharp and serious but they never really have as much of a bite as they could. Songs like "Better Already" and "Away Away" are cracking pieces of pop, the chorus on the latter is particularly good. Some of the brasher tracks such as "Cold War" do not sit quite well with me but I would not go so as to say that I dislike them; they just don't have the same magnetism as the better parts of the album.
Taking pot shots at conservative America, "Sucka MoFo" makes references to pro-life Republican voters driving gas-guzzling vehicles. Not to belittle these topics but lines poor political choices come across as easy targets. Then again, mainstream hip hop is all about buying the big eco-unfriendly cars and wasting money on bad jewellery (speaking of which, there is a great line early on: "You got a sweat suit and you're dripping with diamonds/Tell me are you a rapper or a mom from Long Island?") so Northern State come across as positively radical.
While Can I Keep This Pen? is not a breath of fresh air in terms of an imaginative approach to rap, it is at least a gust of fresh air in terms of pop music that I can relate to. Musically Northern State have a lot more in common with normal indie rock bands with the majority of songs being driven by guitar riffs that Bernard Sumner would be proud of. This is probably the hook that has caught me as I find a lot of hip hop backing tracks tough to listen to. Whether pandering to nerdy white boys is a good or a bad thing is a moot point, all that really matters is that this is a fun and enjoyable album.
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Coming so soon after their exquisite Vintage Burden and their Electricity Ghost outtakes collection, this is an album that Charalambides could have done without dropping. The solo work of both Tom and Christina Carter is evolving at a furious pace, releases coming monthly that both investigate and fulfil their countless ideas. If rumor is to be believed, these songs were recorded live in one take and then overdubbed with numerous effect and layers. It is in this extra work that the fault lies, leaving Likeness in the void between song and improv.
This halfway house between posts sounds like a great idea on paper, the fleshing out of both instinct and chemistry with time and detail. The lack of fragility in much of Tom Carter's playing means the album is weighed down, the overdubs becoming a pair of concrete boots. The over-gesticulating guitar is amongst some of the most out-of-place playing in Charalambides career, the work on "Figs and Oranges" and the finale of "Cloudy Day" is almost Knopfler-esque in its obviousness. The song's almost ethereal double tracing gets close to freer Charalambides, but doesn't quite make it.
Almost every song here has a single element that traps the song in its infancy. In the case of "Do You See?," Christina's more or less stentorian delivery might soften as it multiplies but it is already too late. Much like MV & EE on their recent Gettin' Gone album, Charalambides have seemingly sought out the '60s-'70s spectrum as opposed to any of primitive and experimental forms. Struggling between form and freedom the album sounds like neither. It is possible that some of the original stripped versions of these tracks might have made a better Likeness, but that is just idle speculation; this album simply doesn't made the grade that the band set themselves over the years.
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A solo work from Hototogisu/Double Leopards member Marcia Bassett sounds exactly like the photo on the cover: dark, gray, and sinisterly mysterious. And it excels at living up to these adjectives.
Across the four untitled tracks, Bassett sticks to building mini-dramas out of dark, heavily effected guitar work. The exception is the first track, which is instead reminiscent of an ancient music box playing after being under years of grime and decay. A gentle melody is obviously there, but it is covered in thick, viscousy textures of noise that are almost tangible. The track is more about the effects and distortion instead of the melody, or at least it was the element that drew the attention of these ears. The other tracks tend to lean more on the guitar end of things, such as the second track's guitar feedback drone that stretches from the track, off into the horizon and into infinity that, as the time clicks away, becomes darker and more frightening with each minute.
The third track is a bit harsher, swelling distorted guitar riffs that loom like the monolith riffing of drone poster boys Sunn O))), but from a distance far, far away. The riffs slowly crawl across the cold night air, slowly becoming more and more psychedelic into dissolving into pure madness. The progression from the gentle opening into increasing darkness and violence reaches its logical conclusion in the unfortunately too short final track of pure unabashed guitar noise. Rather than just being an exercise in pure feedback squeal, it instead has a distant, alien quality to it that makes it much more unique and compelling.
Zaimph's latest entry in Utech's Arc series continues both the series' focus on experimental artists who are not necessarily the most well known but are at the top of their game, as well as attention to detail in gorgeous, minimalist packaging that gives the series its uniform look. As the series is drawing to its end, it shows no sign of letting up in its brilliance, and Bassett's installment is testament to that.
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Travel as a theme in art is practically as old as whatever art form in question itself. The idea of moving from a known place to a foreign one can be seen as fascinating, alienating, exciting, and completely frightening. Those adjectives are also surprisingly well fitting to describe this compilation as well. Though it is focused on traveling by plane, the same feelings are there and, just like a flight, it is fascinating, interesting, and yes, occasionally boring and mundane.
The artists were all asked to integrate field recordings created by Room40 label head Lawrence English of the Brisbane International Airport. While these recordings need not be the sole content of the recordings, they were supposed to be a notable element of the final tracks. The participant list reads like a veritable who's who of current electronic composers: David Grubbs, Francisco Lopez, David Grubbs, Christian Fennesz, etc. They all use the various flight recordings to very different effects, all of which are consistent with their own styles.
As I indicated before, the music reflects the multiple emotions one can feel as an air traveler. Richard Chartier's contribution, "Retrieval_Path," taps in to the fascination that is flight: subtle treatments of engine noise reduced to high pitch digital tones, layered into rhythmic rings that are gentle, yet complex. Taylor Deupree's "Fear of Flying" takes the travel concept to a more literal end, the opening of crowd noises and people talking are just like the pre-flight conversations expected from a plane, distant flight information over a loud speaker as chiming digital tones enter the mix, and eventually dominate the mix, mimicking the mechanical roars and hums of a plane as it takes off into the sky.
Christian Fennesz also takes a more musical approach, shaping layered tracks of processed engine noise into vaguely musical structures, and adding in snippets of dialog to add to the proceedings. Marc Beherens is more cinematic with "3 Winged Zones," the sounds of engines powering up and wind pushed into overdrive to create thick walls of dense noise over phased tones, then stripped down to a more moderate level, with tones like distant warning beacons (or even crickets) in the distance.
As aforementioned, at times flight can be frightening, and Christopher Willits contribution "Plane" is the best example of that. Opening with very little more than the narration of flight attendants giving the preflight instructions over an intercom, the mundane elements of the preflight ritual before launching head first into a wall of noise and distortion that is shocking as an actual plane crash would be. Similarly, Toshiya Tsunoda's "Peak to Peak" is also a jarring experience. On the surface the name could represent travel from one mountain to another, but I assume it is more specifically leveled at the landscape of a digital representation for the track: Long gaps of near silence are met with harsh outbursts of noise, acting as the visual representation of said peaks.
Flights can be boring as well, and a few of the tracks do not feel as if they go too far beyond the source material to be as captivating as the more outstanding ones. The track by Burkhard Beins, "Tarmac Berlin Edit," treats the passing of planes overhead with so little that it does not feel as if there was anything really changed from the initial recordings. Jason Kahn's "Transit" has a similar feel, with only basic filtering/eq'ing of engine noise over simple, sustained digital tones. Nothing about the less fascinating tracks is bad; it is more a factor of being lined up with the more interesting ones being a detriment. And, hey, in travel there are some places that one is extremely excited to go, and others are just a destination.
Airport Symphony makes for an interesting work on both a conceptual, and an entertaining level. While by its very nature it is somewhat esoteric and difficult, the thematic link of concepts makes it one that more people can relate to from previous experience, and should use that background to check it out and give it a try, because it is a very well done and remarkable compilation.
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- Richard Chartier - Retrieval_Path
- Marc Beherens - 3 Winged Zone
- Fennesz - Verona
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This japanoise supergroup was formed in 2003, pooling the talents of Hiroshi Hasegawa (Astro & C.C.C.C.) on voice and synth, Maso Yamazaki of Masonna on guitar and voice, and Nobuko Emi on drums. This is their debut album and features four live recordings taped in various venues in Osaka and Tokyo between 2003 and 2006.
I am not a fan of live albums as a rule, as they are invariably crude documents completely divorced from all the elements that make gigs and events successful and rarely do they do the artists any justice; moreover they always leave me a tad disappointed. Noise albums, however, present something of a dichotomy, as by definition they are collisions of unstructured chaos and the element of the accidental plays an enormous part. So one could quite legitimately posit the idea that the vagaries and limitations of the recording process in a live situation become part of the performance as well, adding a further layer to the end result.
SSD assail from the get go. The usual tropes of the genre are there: unrelenting guitar distortion and feedback; electronic screechings, blips, growls and drones; along with shouts and screams batter the listener in an ear-bleeding aural assault. It is a one-sided sonic battle intended no doubt to crush the senses into submission, drilling into the skull and vacuum-cleaning the brains out through the resultant aperture, machine-like in its inhuman intensity and industrial brutality; no amount of pleading and begging will stay their course. The machines will go on until every last one of us is extinct and quite likely they will then turn on themselves and each other because there will be nothing else left for them. It is complete mayhem just for the joy of indulging in wanton mayhem and it seems that just like the ethos of fellow noise artists C.C.C.C. there is no attempt here at intellectualism, just an aggressive form of play, slaughtering with a smile on the face. Even so, there is a distinctly different approach to the aforementioned outfit, instead of a slow unfolding evolution (as displayed on C.C.C.C.'s latest, Chaos is the Cosmos) there is a fast-breeder reactor style of progression: everything being a chain-reaction from one moment to the next; one idea suggesting something else which turn suggests yet another idea in a mushroom cloud of unbridled creativity.
My only complaint is that while I can sense a small glimpse of the sheer exuberance and rawness of an SSD live performance from these recordings, the essential element of being there and experiencing it first-hand is missing, thereby slightly emasculating the power. There's no denying though that it didn't detract a great deal from any appreciation of what was on offer here and that the 'live' recording aspect DID add another crunchy dimension to it. As an introduction to the work of this band it more than suffices and it is obvious from these performances that each musician works well with and plays off each other brilliantly to produce a homogenized and whole aesthetic. However, I would still like to hear a 'studio'-based album to get a fuller flavor of the wall of noise assault that SSD promises on this debut album.This is not saying that this is a bad record, far from it, every second of it is enjoyable and only whets my appetite to go and see them should they ever make it to the shores of of the UK.
I hope that another album is in the works or at least being thought about, but there is no doubt that we will be hearing a lot more from them in the future and for my part that would be very welcome.
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Listening to Amidst the Noise and Twigs is like wandering lost in the middle of a forest after discovering that the breadcrumbs leading home are actually beetles that then scamper away and vanish. Luring the listener deeper into the wood are mesmeric melodies and hypnotic chants that both welcome and warn. The siren call is addictive and disorienting, and it's a delirious place in which to be lost.
There are plenty of diversions along the way, including an encounter with a voice that might come from some crazed waterfowl during an ill-advised experiment with a dusty fly agaric specimen on "Splendid Goose." Similarly bizarre is the troll from "She Vang Moon," which sounds none too pleased to have been awakened before getting quasi-mystical with the addition of drones, chants, and pleading drums. "Larslovesnick Farm" is an odd destination where metallic mallets arc overhead until dissolving with a pop, only to be replaced by a squeaky plastic smooch that in turn gives way to snippets of piano melody and a few mooing cows.
The group keeps me mesmerized with hymns of blissful repetition, like "The Sting of Haste." "Before We Came to This Religion" slows the pace but continues the mood by adding lyrics to nervous rattling and tribal whimsy. A certain schoolboy naïveté creeps up on a couple of tracks, particularly in "Burnt Seer," a warped take on rustic folk in which the group sings, "I'm not singing any better/But I'll sing better/And I'll sing better" as if apologizing to a teacher or a parent for falling short of expectations. This feeling of childlike lamentation comes up again on "The Three Twins" as the group brings the album to a majestic climax as if in contrition for some misdeed.
Different styles of music, the juxtaposition of disparate sounds, and the narrative quality of many tracks keep the mood and ideas constantly shifting. Although their intentions are sometimes esoteric, Volcano the Bear convincingly evoke both the exotic and the eerily familiar with the sounds coming from their strange part of the woods.
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Ephemera Blues reflects a metaphysical journey through issues of mortality. These superb songs frequently emphasize death's cyclical aspects more often than its dire ones, lending vigor to the search for personal enlightenment. The album is mellow but never dull, earnest and cathartic in its yearning for transcendental validation.
Golden Death Music is the project of Michael Ramey, who is responsible for this album in its entirety. There is actually a lot of variation in the songwriting considering that they were written and performed by only one person. Most of the songs are composed on different guitars and supplemented by washes of electronics, hand drums, and sweeping backing vocals, among other elements. There's definitely a hazy touch of Floyd on Ramey's weary voice, but it is not a distraction. A little echo and reverb go a long way.
The order of the songs reflects this theme of recurring patterns, beginning with "Endless Dream" and "Waking Nightmare," only to end with "The Unmaking" and "Into the Ocean." Each song in between is another step along the path from self-awareness to disintegration. There undoubtedly is a melancholic air pervading many of the tracks, but it is a tired sadness rather than a desperate one. Not even the sun brings hope on "Morning Sun, Mourning Song." Likewise, little comfort comes from relationships with other people, as on "Together," when Ramey sings, "Together/We can finally be apart." The title track is surprisingly uplifting all things considered, as Ramey realizes the closeness of death and thus life's fragility and power. "In Silence" reaches for inner peace, while "True Beauty Is Emptiness" hints at a Buddhist acceptance of the cycle of life. On the surface, these may sound like weighty issues, but the music is never tedious, and the lyrics are personal rather than proscriptive. That Ramey makes such a compelling and eloquent recording out of these topics is an ambitious accomplishment.
I'm also impressed that Ramey recorded the whole thing on inexpensive equipment using only a couple of basic microphones, because his songs have more depth and creative arrangement than do a lot of bigger productions. Special attention to the panning and balances throughout elevates this album to a whole different level. It is one of the most inventive and refreshing things I have heard in quite some time.
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Edited down from hours of recordings, this collaboration between America's Sunburned Hand of the Man and Finland's Circle is a thrilling collection of improvisations and jams. Not only is it a great first time partnership but I like it better than a lot of either band's previous recordings. With any luck this is the start of a long-lasting and prolific relationship.
This combination of these two bands works spectacularly well. Both bands retain their own distinctive style but bend their respective methods to fit in with the others' methods. Granted, neither of them had to sacrifice much of their own take on playing as both come from a very similar school of thought where anything goes. The music shifts like scenes in a dream, a solid rhythm one minute falling into a formless squall of delay soaked guitar. The vocals are buried in the mix and are more like cries in the distance than any sort of traditional rock centrepiece.
There is a serious sense of urgency that runs through the first three pieces. This comes to a boil with the frantic jamming on "Heinävelho" where the drums sound like they are being played too fast and too often and everyone is desperately trying to stay together. It sounds incredible, the insistent force of the piece shoving the listener forward whether they want to go or not. This could happily go on for the entire disc but the fadeout at the end of "Vuoren Valloitus" unfortunately brings this chapter of album to a close.
The remainder of The Blaze Game features a looser selection of cuts from the sessions. "Yksi Hirvi, Miljoona Metsästäjää" is undoubtedly the best part of the album (a tall order considering the quality of the other tracks). Here Circle's Krautrocking—which makes their live show so compelling—comes to the fore. The bass leads the rhythm section on and on and on, the other instruments and vocals dance around it before some seriously freaked out saxophone takes things to another level.
I was a bit apprehensive about Sunburned Circle as separately I find both bands to be hit or miss with their studio output. However, these two groups go together like bread and butter. The spark between them seems to come naturally and freely. Each piece becomes its own microcosm where every element of the music works perfectly with the other elements. And one thing that all the tracks have in common is that I could gladly listen to a lot more of any of them. Bearing in mind that these are all culled from longer jams perhaps some day a large box set of unedited recordings might be made available. In the meantime I am more than happy to make do with this fantastic album.
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