On his Kranky debut, Tokyo-based Chihei Hatakeyama sticks to making soundscapes which are quite enjoyable. Granted it is fairly mundane in 2006 to be pursuing glitchy processed music but Minima Moralia clicked with me. The album is cold and bright, and it has an austere quality which I like.
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Article Published Aug 23, 2006 DavePehling http://www.sfweekly.com/Issues/2006-08-23/music/reviewed3.html Who / What:The HeadsMusic Genre:Rock/Hip HopMusic Label:Alternative Tentacles Despite being one of the more creative bands to emerge from the lemminglike tide of late ’90s stoner-rock acts committed to vinyl by the Man’s Ruin imprint, talented British fuzz merchants the Heads somehow never got the Stateside audience they deserved. Straddling Stooges-inspired fury and droning, Hawkwind-esque deep space exploration, the Heads churn out a psych-punk maelstrom that answers the rhetorical question “What would Sonic Youth sound like if it sported a massive set of hairy balls?” The domestic release of Heads’ latest effort, Under the Stress of a Headlong Dive, reveals just how developed its corrosive Big Muff alchemy has become over the years. Anchored by the monolithic guitar squall of founder Simon Price and fellow six-string terrorist Paul Allen, the Heads bash out careening, catchy heaviness on “Earth/Sun,” the conga-driven “pass, the void” [sic] and “Your Monkey Is My Master,” standing equal to the best of Mudhoney and early Monster Magnet (before Dave Wyndorf stopped doing drugs). Factor in some loopy, mind-warping psychedelic interludes and a couple of thoroughly engaging extended freakouts (the nearly 20-minute epic “Stodgy” and “Creating in the Eternal New Is Always Heavy”) and you have a serious contender for most bongtastic album of 2006.
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The droning guitar strums and Carter’s chanting of "Second Death" are promising for the first half of the song but the song loses its way around the six minute mark. It seems to get away from her and ends up covered in messy noodling that destroys the vibes that she has built up in the first few minutes. This is a similar story for the rest of Electrice. Throughout the album there are moments that could easily erupt into something more compelling but Carter always seems to pull back at the last minute. “Moving Intercepted,” the best piece on Electrice, has a touch of Swans about it, the guitar playing and vocals sound like they’re leading up to a crescendo but it never delivers. The first half of both these two songs ("Second Death" and "Moving Intercepted") are deceptively good. It's unfortunate that both pieces just fall apart and go nowhere, which can be said of this album as a whole.
The concept of using the same guitar tuning and chords hasn't achieved the results intended. It’s not a bold or an adventurous move. It instead highlights the limitations of Carter’s songwriting instead of showing how well she can use a limited palette. While she uses different effects on the different pieces to change the tone of the drone that she builds up with her playing, the four pieces are too samey. Any track taken on its own is fine but altogether it sounds more like multiple takes of one song rather than four distinct songs. This makes it hard to listen to as it feels like a bunch of demos that might lead to one great song in the end.
It's a shame because I know she's capable of better but Electrice and I don't see eye to eye.
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That Tuxedomoon tackles such a subject during their return home is particularly appropriate given the nature of Gysin’s book, which itself is a fictionalized recollection of his days at the infamous Beat Hotel as it is being relocated from Paris to Malibu to be installed in the Museum of Museums. The music is a mix of jazz-inflected instrumentals and field recordings of conversations and announcements. Many of the songs are anchored by guitar or bass while strings bring an uneasy atmosphere and horns carve subtle melodies from the air. Although they’re frequently relaxed, the songs never fully soothe and a sense of mystery is always close at hand. The field recordings range from things like a sojourn in Mexico to public transit announcements for Embarcadero Street without any sort of narrative transition to bridge the geographical displacement, giving a sense of both familiarity and dislocation that feels much like the style of Gysin’s book. Similarly, perhaps as a nod to the way Gysin’s novel flits between Europe and America and juxtaposes the present and the past, the group also includes a triptych of songs subtitled “The Show Goes On” that were recorded in Europe. Contrasted with the San Francisco material, these are much more brash and buoyant and even include some vocals, most prominently in “Loneliness.”
Bardo Hotel features its own Madame Rachou in the guise of “Mr. Comfort,” a hotelkeeper with a hilarious list of requirements for his guests, including the requisite no smoking, no drinking, and no drugs, but also forbidding bicycles in the room and insisting that guests are very quiet, smell nice, and smile when they see him. Although it’s hard for me to imagine a film related to Gysin without an appearance by the Master Musicians of Jajouka, the form of this recording mirrors his novel with such dedication that it’s easy to wave any misgivings aside. Regardless of how the film turns out, the album is a splendid journey in itself, a soundtrack for a state of mind.
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The Graveyards trio continue their journey past the last markers of free jazz playing with this, at times barren sounding, clear vinyl. Brokenresearch releases are well known for their superbly understated art direction, but this is probably their most striking cover yet. A bright yellow sleeve holds an image of a set of teeth, looking like a cross between Giger’s Alien and an aging Dracula.
Most of the tracks here appear to be much quieter than an average Graveyards session, with much more space being left between the musicians. This is increase in silence is well served by the fidelity of the recording, this LP sounds incredible with every sound being perfectly picked up. For a band that seems to get lazily lumped into the unhygienic sounding scum jazz bracket, this is an ideal riposte.
The first two tracks are probably the best examples here of this avenue, with repeating warm horn motifs and the still rise of Hans Buetow’s sensitive cello strings. If anyone’s attempting to wake the neighbours it’s the sax, bursting in and petering out like a reversing ram raider. On the few occasions when the percussion does get loud, the snares are like Derringer shots and the bowed symbols like someone taking a chisel to a church lightning rod. On the b-side’s final track these cymbals join with the cello and sax in an attempt to create a single tone, instead gaps and sharp edges are left open like switchblades.
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Bola's Soup remains one of my most played records because it captures that simple but entirely synthetic beauty of melancholic electro better than just about anything else. While Boards of Canada were warming up the analog tubes and Autechre were moving away from melodies towards complete abstraction, Bola was turning out the electro equivalent of love songs and power ballads made with drum machines. So, it's no surprise that I'm a big fan of Shapes, which is a record from that general era of Bola material between his first two albums.
Apparently the collectors have been clamoring for a re-release of this initially limited vinyl offering for some time, but I imagine that in some cases, that has more to do with completing Skam listings on Discogs than it does with actually sitting down to enjoy these tunes. The reissue is good for folks like me, though, who weren't on the right mailing lists when these records came out and don't routinely spend fortunes on eBay tracking down out-of-print vinyl.
What's a little strange about Shapes is the way it comfortably fits in Bola's discography no matter where I try to place it chronologically. While it shares a lot of the stylistic touches of Bola's oldest work (and indeed one of these tracks appeared on the Skampler compilation in some form,) if Skam had told me that this was just a completely NEW Bola record, I think I would have been none the wiser. In fact, when stacked up against the many other producers making this kind of emotive synth music in 2006, Shapes sounds positively contemporary.
That's probably a bit of a mixed blessing. Like a lot of bands that put out an early record that I love and then don't veer far from the formula, I imagine that when I want to reach for a Bola record I'll probably always just pull out Soup or the anomalous Mauver if I want to mix it up. Still, it's nice to have yet another example of impeccibly crafted electro mood music to drop when the grooves on the old favorites have worn thin. Besides, when I put the tracks all together on an mp3 player, I'll probably never tell them apart anyway.
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Hardwick’s swerving eight minutes of mismatched loops set up a beautiful mood of stalled movement. Drips of clear sound flitting around the main parts like frayed reverb or delicate harp strums. At times these pieces seem like piano notes pulled like sticky toffee, exaggerating their endnotes and tailing off into nothing.
Last of the Real Hardmen is the name given to Chris Summerlin’s diverse and gorgeous solo output, and here he turns things up a little to dedicate a jam to a Stooges guitarist. The wahwah guitar/drums piece here (which is revealed in its extended glory on the handy CD-R) refuses to slob out to a blow-out, instead keeping its head somewhere musical and feet stomping on the ground. There are moments of Tom Carter-style guitar delicacy that make this a contender for whatever platitudes/tag they’re spitting out this week for this sort of thing. It’s a genuine pleasure to keep these two on a loop for the best part of a few hours.
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SAF
From the second they start, they pummel my ears into submission. Mikaela’s Fiend are Chris on guitar and Donnie on drums (no second names are given). Donnie provides no-nonsense testosterone-drenched drumming and Chris fills out the sound with a massive amount of guitar for one man. It sounds like he’s running the guitar through a couple of amps with different effects simultaneously. Some of the processing knocks the signal out of key to cause dissonance and beating which give the music a lot more power and aggression. On the fourth track, this effect is particularly evident. The guitar seems to be coming from both sides with the drums centred in the mix, pinning me to my seat.
There isn’t a single track, barring the grandmother intro, that doesn’t hit me like a ton of bricks being fired from a cannon. The pace is kept high throughout the album, only dropping the odd time for Mikaela’s Fiend to show that they can do Melvins-esque sludgy treacle too. The shortness of the tracks (most are between one and four minutes) and the variety of the playing gives We Can Driving Machine a lot of life. Each piece is a burst of pure energy, it’s impossible not to get up and move to the music. However he messed up rhythms make it impossible to move sensibly to the music.
The tinnitus from enjoying the CD at an appropriate volume is not welcome, however, this is a fucking great album that I can’t easily turn off or down.
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Sol Invictus
SOL VERITAS LUX
An All Time Neofolk Classic Returns at the Right Time
Even in this modern world, it seems every few years, some new resurgence of "folk music" rises out of nowhere and finds a welcoming following.
The latest wave commonly labeled as freak-, psych-, or wyrd-folk has given us such stars as Devendra Banhart, Akron/Family, and Six Organs of Admittance. From the English folk revival of the 60's, to this "New Weird America" movement now in full swing, the quality each of these moments has in common is looking respectfully to the past, while contributing a new twist appropriate to the times.
Just about two decades ago now, another curious folk music movement began to emerge. A strain of English "industrial" groups were looking for ways to impart new meaning into their bleak and frightening noise, and a new and highly creative, "post-industrial" folk music came to life, heavily charged with mystical and philosophical themes. "Neofolk" as it would come to be known is largely defined by early releases by Tony Wakeford's Sol Invictus, alongside fellow pioneer projects Current 93 and Death in June.
2006 now sees the reissue of one of the best and most important releases of neofolk, Sol Veritas Lux by Sol Invictus.
Sol Veritas Lux – which combines the debut "Against the Modern World" LP (1987) along with the live "In the Jaws of the Serpent" LP (1988) – is likely to rank as one of the most raw listening experiences you can ever find. Playing this album is like calling an arctic blast from Old Pagan Europe. It's cold and it's mean and it offers no apologies. Whatever you think, you are not ready to hear this album.
Over the following years Sol Invictus would smooth out the rough edges and produce many beautiful albums, but there are many who would argue Sol Veritas Lux shows Wakeford and company at their most potent and compelling. It has always stood as one of the best selling Sol Invictus releases.
The 2006 edition of Sol Veritas Lux celebrates nearly 20 years of Sol Invictus, presented in a luxurious package with new liner notes, and freshly remastered by Denis Blackham to bring out even more of its primitive glory. It offers three newly rerecorded bonus tracks showing a current interpretation on the same material.
The most remarkable achievement of Sol Invictus and the neofolk scene would have to be its enduring appeal. New releases and new concerts are received by a loyal cult following year after year. Watching the trends in the music world, it may even turn out the peak is yet to come for Tony Wakeford and friends.
Sol Veritas Lux is the first major Sol Invictus album to be released in an edition specially for North America. Sol Veritas Lux is promoted & distributed in North America by Strange Fortune. Release date in North America is late Summer 2006.
Claim your copy of one of the all time classics of neofolk today at www.strangefortune.com
"Sol Invictus blow most over-hyped death folk/psych records out of the water."
–The Wire
Strange Fortune
www.strangefortune.com
The source for strange & exquisite sounds
Strange Fortune / PO Box 440383 / Somerville MA 02144 USA
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