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Ground Fault Recordings and Hospital Producitons would like to announce the upcoming release of "This Is The Truth", the first Sutcliffe Jugend studio album in eight years. "This Is The Truth" quite possibly stands as one of the most original and perfectly balanced noise compositions of the last 10 years. It references and uses classic Sutcliffe Jugend of old while bringing in an entirely unique and fresh element one does not hear in noise. This album is a brilliant blend of foreboding tension, and anxiety while using the most lively, disturbing, and textual elements of noise. All of which are brought together with the phenomenal detail and balance of an accomplished electronic composer. Songs that you think will explode leave you hanging with tension, while others erupt with violence out of nowhere. It's an absolutely brilliant album that was worth the wait.
The CD version is scheduled for a February release. A 2xLP version is scheduled for a March/April release. The vinyl version has 2 extra tracks as well as a different mix of the title track."
www.groundfault.net
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The first half especially is a momentum killer. I was able to set aside my reservations about the overlong “Intro” because the title track that arrives on its heels hits with startling impact, perhaps all the more so because of the anticipation preceding it. Yet immediately following this track is another ambient piece, dampening all of the newly discovered energy. “White Ink” is a pleasantly drifting cloud of feedback, but after the lively “Cryptograms,” it’s a bit of a step backwards. This pattern dogs the much of the album by alternating catchy tunes with abstract material that stifles any mounting enthusiasm. The atmospherics aren’t awful by any means, but their length and aimlessness slow the pace of the album unnecessarily. It’s almost a form of procrastination in a way, as if the group’s using the static pieces as interludes in which to refocus their songwriting.
The ideas start flowing more freely with “Spring Hall Convert,” spearheading a welcome succession of more structured material. They masterfully use effects on these songs to give them tremendous depth, their melodies like beacons at the heart of a dense patch of fog. “Strange Lights” beckon from within the murk, luring the listener on to the hypnotic “Hazel St.” Momentarily, they return to more ambience with “Tape Hiss Orchid.” It’s barely over a minute long, yet it’s the ideal length for this piece because its point is well made and, if anything, makes me want to hear more. This philosophy would have served them well earlier in the album, before the onset of ambivalence. Closing is “Heatherwood,” probably the album’s most down to earth track because of the secondary role of the effects.
Despite some complaints, there’s still much more to like here than not. The band has a lot of captivating songs to their credit, I just wish they weren’t so intent on hiding them between so many nebulous obfuscations. Deerhunter is on the verge of making a big statement, but I don’t think they’ve quite articulated it yet with this album.
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Utech
A still image of the desert, aside from the skeletal imagery that adorns the cover, is perhaps the best visual companion for these recordings. James Plotkin's music has always been deep and thrusting, pounding its way into my ears more than any drone music I've ever listened to. Perhaps this is because his discography is littered with and began with metal releases or perhaps it is because his music has always settled deep into my bones, sounding as elemental as it often does. The thought of the desert slowly wearing away homes or massive structures like pyramids immediately comes to mind after "Kurtlanmak" begins to blow through the speakers. Plotkin introduces the piece with a guitar that is still obviously a guitar, but he doesn't allow it to exist for long before the hums and heavy moans of processed sound become the dominant factor in the music. The sound of glass forming and breaking soon features heavily in the mix. Having introduced these elemental pieces of his work, he begins to cut them together in strange and unexpected ways, making edits where I least expect them to pop up. There are drones all over this record, but it isn't merely a piece of drone composition. There is far more noise, a far more dynamic range involved through this songs half hour duration.
The presence of a recognizable guitar on "Kurtlanmak" makes both the melody it brings to the fore and the other elements of the piece stronger and more effective. After a while it's hard to imagine that the two seemingly opposite expressions of music aren't more related than they might seem at first. The gnarled, twisted guitar that appears most strongly at the conclusion of the piece has the same distant and alien qualities that the drones and noises exhibit. The twisted playing that he delivers lightens the mood of this piece a bit, but only gives way to the destitution of "Damascus."
This is a piece that works its magic by delivering recognizable bits of music as slowly as possible. Melodies emerge over minutes instead of seconds, slowly building a tension that cannot be ignored. The last ten minutes or so bring the additional surprise of percussion, banging out a shaking, almost ritualistic pattern of cymbals and low-end tom punches. It's a majestic track that evolves nearly perfectly, surpassing "Kurtlanmak" in some ways, despite the fact that it may be less diverse on the whole. After the piece has revealed itself as a consistent and thoughtful whole, it becomes even more attractive for its quiet nooks and crannies: knowing where the journey is ultimately headed makes the atomic pieces of the puzzle all the more attractive.
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The punchy beats and circular guitar of "Beastie Blotch" blast Live 190706 off in style, the solidly hit but rattling kit keeping the song fuelled up. Strafing treble ends notes make threats to sunder the song in two, there’s a real raw-boned fire to the playing. The dark post punk shapings and the Ad Rock rant gives the song a vigorous focus to its rage, letting it work both as a head nodding rush and something deeper. Lyrically, I‘m not sure, as it’s difficult to make out, but a sense of confusion and reproach is spat out through the mouth of a heartbroken drill sergeant. This melodious racket feel is also found on “Free to Thrash” whose explosions into virulent expulsions (like it says in the title) are interspersed with sci-fi drone guitar. The third track “F Sweet” rides a clinically clear pop groove that gradually begins to warp into something a little more crystalline and spindly.
"12 Minutes, " the closer (which is only actually 6:14 long), twists up from the ground and delicately chimes its way into great sucking black holes of static flecked din. The strong echoes of John McGeoch style guitar through the early part of the track, ending in a spilt river of melted guitar parts. There seems to be a great chemistry between the pair, backing each other as they extend the duo sound down different very different paths to most other pairings. It’s great to hear a new band that sound able to competently and thoroughly brilliantly tackle diverse material in a live setting. More please.
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Blue Flea
Akimatsuri is named after Japanese festivals held to celebrate the autumn season, typically with an emphasis on a good harvest. From what I understand these festivals are different depending on what region they're held in. It is appropriate, then, that Windy & Carl have decided to celebrate the autumn season with their own particular kind of music. The different photographs that are spread over the 500 copies of this recording are equally important, however. Akimatsuri is described as a collaboration with photographer Christy Romanick. The images are absolutely stunning. Anyone who attended Brainwaves can testify to the quality of Romanick's work as it was featured as a slideshow during Windy & Carl's performance, each of the photographs a perfect match for the solitude and peace this duo provided that day. This music harmonizes perfectly with thoughts of a cool breeze and the changing colors of leaves, the slow decay as time marches towards winter. It's a time of year when death is undeniably recognizable as equally sad and beautiful.
Divided into five parts, the album consists primarily in the slow building of steam. Easy drones made of organ or keyboard float on the edge of consciousness behind the warm fuzz of an electric guitar and the lazy strumming of strings. Approximately 11 minutes into the composition, an uneasy silence falls on the record before a glimmering guitar solo whispers its way through the music: it's perhaps the most noticeable moment on the album because it is so unexpected and majestic. The fact that the music had been working towards this inverted crescendo was not evident until the crescendo happened. Repeated listens make the tension that Windy and Carl slowly and meticulously built more evident, but the sudden beauty of that guitar solo stands out for me every time.
The album descends after this moment, reveling in the calm that follows so many excited moments. The patient strumming from the first half of the record returns and Akimatsuri slowly fades away into a haze of keyboards and humming guitars. The album is meant to be a celebration, as aforementioned, but the ending reminds me of the first snows of winter. Only certain places here in the states have had the chance to see those snows and the unearthly moan of sounds that populate the end of this record make that white scenery all the more missed. Whatever the end of the album is supposed to represent, there's little doubt in my mind that Akimatsuri is one of Windy and Carl's best recordings. The awe that their serene compositions inspire is amplified by the beauty of the packaging and the care these three artists took in presenting the package as a perfectly realized whole. The music and photographs are intimate enough, but when taken in together they seem like a gift meant for whoever is holding it and not like a product meant for consumption.
Anyone interested in Christy Romanick's work should visit her website at www.space30a.com. The site is currently undergoing some work, but her portfolio has been made available there and some photographs used for both Akimatsuri and the Windy and Carl performance at Brainwaves can be found in that portfolio.
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Like the title implies, the songs on this mostly electronic compilation share a similar chilly aesthetic. They also share a tendency to stray into dark territory, making this collection an excellent soundtrack for an eerie winter’s night.
Haunted Sound Laboratory’s "Ghost in the Blood (live)" starts things off appropriately enough with a simple heartbeat and heavy breathing. Various rattles and drones venture forth from the shadows only to recede from whence they came. It’s hard to guess where the sound will come from next, and it’s this unpredictability that makes it an ideal opener on a compilation of left turns. The album builds intensity with a few beat-oriented songs, including Danny Hyde’s intriguing remix of Mink’s "Ride," before heading for starker territory with tracks by the likes of Black Sun Productions, a Mort Douce remix by Tactile, and a pensive collaboration between Sid Redlin and Gregory Rapp. The album veers again, this time brightening somewhat with more beats and a greater emphasis on vocals than previously. Kuxaan-Sum turns in some haunting whispers on "La Mentor De’Morte" before giving way to NOT’s rocking "To Taka Gra." The latter seems a little out of place amid so many electronic acts, yet it’s a decent track and doesn’t derail the mood completely. The album’s most abrasive song comes from Bad Wolf, whose "Die Ostara Satan America" is composed of various rhythmic static, electronic squeals, and industrial groans. The last few songs head in a quieter direction, beginning with 3z13’s bubbly "They Don’t Know" and ending with "Searching for Life in the Ethane Oceans" by The Insektys Isotope, probably the compilation’s coldest, sparsest track and its perfect ending.
While there may be a couple of lulls, there are no outright duds to be found. The sequencing plays to the strengths of the individual songs and changes pace at all the right times to keep the listener engaged as it unfolds along every stage, with enough variation to make this album a rewarding, compelling experience.
samples:
- Haunted Sound Laboratory – Ghost in the Blood (Live)
- Bad Wolf – Die Ostara Satan America
- The Insektys Isotope – Searching for Life in the Ethane Oceans
 
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Through the album’s vein-like title and the glorious red tissue of this disc’s gatefold, Menche is being quite insistent about the subject matter of Jugularis; the human heart and its physical functions. Pumping through a myriad of veins and arteries, this album is the sound of blood propelled around the body by the steady drive of this vital organ. Except instead of the familiar and secure pulse of its beat, we are invited to hear the mini-rhythms of blood vessels driving and populating these three untitled behemoth sized tracks.
Sounds travel purposefully past the listener on their way to some urgent destination, dipping in and out of coherence before rushing and splitting like waves. Menche avoids the Puréed internal and organic squelch and splatter route, instead moulding sounds into a subtler blending of power electronics (not an oxymoron for Menche) and pulses. An exemplar of rhythm manipulation and processing, Menche’s exploration of sound here consciously avoids the slip into full-throttle abuse. "Jugularis Three" is the heaviest piece with ball bearing raindrops creating noisy little blood vessel stuck grooves. The insect chatter pitter-patter on this, the album’s finale, is the most focused, pummelling a path into the blood-sodden ground. As focused as Jugularis is on its relentless pounding, it manages to also move in a less obviously percussive way.
"Jugularis Two" slurs large sections of drum work into a drenched screed of sound; these passages more closely resemble the passing of treacly covered comets rather than any digital process. While the beats are the main focus of the album, and take up a good 90% of the sounds, there is a restrained use of tones beneath some of the throbbing. From heavier descending moods to more slight overlapping drone, these ingredients also create changing patterns. At the more burdened end they can buzz like swarms of shaking rivets, while at the other end they slow into accordion like waves.
The off-kilter primitive beats of the album are forever settling and shifting in their patterns, overlapping like live players moving into and out of the foreground through Menche’s filtered digital vision. These tiny structured blueprints move through channels inside a larger breathing space, bringing a slight echoic feel to these sections. While the album is undoubtedly about flesh it never moves from its detached examination of sounds into lasciviousness. With Jugularis Menche has become almost impassive in his dealings with the human heart, his touch as black as any noise artist.
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Quintron and Miss Pussycat bounce back from the double bitch-slap of Katrina and Rita with "Swamp Buggy Badass," all snarling rockabilly swagger and deep-fried Southern decadence filtered through sleazy techno throb. Play this track side-to-side with Alan Vega's "Jukebox Baby" and tell me which one you like better. It might be too close to call. Suddenly and unceremoniously, the mix travels from the bayou to the teeming metropolis of Berlin, soundtracked by Phon.O's throwaway bit of bottom-heavy crunk-tech "Dumpsta Railin'," fun but unsubstantive. Of course, if you came here looking for substance, you were barking up the wrong tree in any case. The same goes for Kid606's "Let It Rock" from last year's Pretty Girls Make Raves, a study in glittering superficialities, a kaleidescope of club-friendly big-ups and shoutouts rolled into one big, hyperactive beat-propelled mess. G.D. Luxxe injects some robot funk into the mix with "Gift," a hard-edged technopop tune that rocks, like, pretty hard.
A few acts on this comp attempt to problematize the usual association of TB6 with bedroom electronica and trashy techno, bands like Clipd Beaks, Genders and Boy From Brazil who bring the rock, complete with real instruments and everything. Clipd Beaks seem really promising with "Nuclear Arab," an acid-damaged wall of urgent noise-rock that locates audible signifiers of protest and political resistance in the same ballpark as This Heat and early Section 25. I saw Genders open for Adult. last year, and was underwhelmed, but their track here ("Apes") is actually pretty neato, atmospheric psych-pop hidden behind layers of murky reverb and obscured by willfully perverse mixing strategies. Boy From Brazil's "Pocket Rocket Queen" steals a page from Quintron's book, a snotty, sexually confrontational electro-rock paean to the vibrator, delivered with a heavy dose of rockabilly attitude, as well as the liberal use of that late-50s Gene Vincent vocal echo. Kid606's other contribution to the comp, credited to "Kid606 and Friends," is a full-on rock song as well, with what sounds like live drums and guitars. "We Need to Make a Change" is both a political rallying cry and a party anthem, with an infectious bassline and a singalong chorus. Who are these "friends" exactly?
As is expected, this sampler also contains a full complement of instantly disposable chunks of ironic nonsense. I'm thinking here of Hawnay Troof's "Man On My Back," which is an angry call-and-response rap delivered a cappella over weird chugging sounds, followed by 25 seconds of silence (a mastering error?). It's pointless, but maybe that's the point. "Claws Theme (Edit)" by C.L.A.W.S. is dumb and damned proud of it, and that's got to count for something. Original Hamster manages to combine the agitating repetition of Reggaeton with early-90s diva-house, tying it all together with chopped up vocal samples and squishy acid squiggles, and it somehow works. Knifehandchop chimes in with an exaggerated wet dream of deconstructed, chopped and screwed robotripped hiphop that reimagines the scene in extrapolated dystopian form. It's crunk as hell, but also fucking terrifying.
Eats Tapes samples the "Uh -huh" from Soft Pink Truth's dionysian cover of Nervous Gender's "Confession" (also known as "Jesus was a cocksucking Jew from Galilee") to create a bouyant party jam that gradually snowballs into an dizzying cut-up techno piece that made me queasy with its frenetic invention. Indian Jewelry's "Emptyhanded" persists on the noisier end of mannered garage rock, and for no reason that is immediately apparent to me, is one of my favorite tracks on the comp. Drop the Lime's "Butterscotch" sounds like a less repellant version of Gold Chains: fat synth lines, bassy throbs and testosterone-amped vocal refrains. It's far too short, but it's lovely while it's there. Filler tracks by dDamage, Warbler and Puzzleweasel hardly warrant mention; it just wouldn't be a Tigerbeat sampler without a few head-scratching moments of sarcastically shitty, spastic, post-IDM Nintendo-esque trash.
Rest assured that Tigerbeat 6 is keeping it real: real electic, weird and fun.
samples:
- Quintron and Miss Pussycat - Swamp Buggy Badass
- Eats Tapes vs. Soft Pink Truth - Uh Huh
- The Genders - Apes
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Sub Rosa
Performed the day Luc Ferrari was cremated, this improvised set by two of the best composers of the 20th century is both a fitting epitaph to the music from the last century and prayer to further adventures and explorations of sound over the next 100 years. Palestine wanted the performance to celebrate those who were alive; his words apply both to Conrad and himself as well as the next generation of composers and artists. The resulting piece is a joyous celebration of musical creativity that encapsulates the utter skill and proficiency of both men.
The piece itself is, as expected, just over 18 minutes of sublime minimalism; Palestine restricts himself mainly to a delicate set of variations of a short piano refrain which sounds like trickling water. Conrad extends violin drones from the beginning of time to the end of time, giving a real sense of eternal music. As the performance runs its course, there is a shift in feelings and sounds, at times Conrad cuts through the mix like a chainsaw. Palestine keeps right up with him proving the title especially apt; the two artists (despite not being in contact for over 30 years) connect in a way that is almost unnatural. The music is not just a static drone with repeated piano phrases by any stretch of the imagination; changes in instruments, addition of vocals and variations in both intensity and delivery make the piece a joy to listen to. There is so much going on here that it is easy to miss out on many elements of the sound even after quite a few repeated listenings.
An Aural Symbiotic Mystery shows two masters in full flight. Before I spun the disc I knew exactly what it would sound like but the sheer level of brilliance came as a shock. It is not just the musical content of the performance but the energy that is moving back and forth between Palestine and Conrad. It is hard to convey just how well the pair click together and luckily the power of their performance is captured on the disc. I am not a spiritual person but this kind of power and passion can move me to a place that is almost religious. An Aural Symbiotic Mystery came just a little too late for me to include it in my best of 2006 list but it deserves to be there.
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The music is relentless from the beginning, immersing me in an acoustic world born of various detritus scavenged from sewers, dimly lit alleyways, or heaps of litter. It seems that anything found in these locales is fair game for making rhythm, from trashcans to generators and barely functional machine parts. Conventional drums appear in some places, yet their role is to punctuate the chaos more than to provide a steady beat around which the other noises rally. Occasionally, one of the denizens disturbed by this din rises from its lair to lament the pillaging or to frighten the intruders away. The epic closer "Compound My Eyes" is itself a test in endurance at over 40 minutes in length, and separates the dilettantes from the devotional. Because each song uses such similar compositional elements, after a while the album begins to sound like variations of a theme, but oh, what an intriguing and addictive theme it is.
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