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Intended for release on a tour that was ultimately cancelled, this unique collaboration between the Hafler Trio, Colin Potter, and Andrew Liles is a strange expedition into frost-bitten realms. Siren-like, the intoxicating lure of unraveling mysteries impels further descent into its cavernous depths, with little hope of return.
The album begins with "False Soap," which has shifting high-pitches that extend the horizon before they’re crossed by low strings and faint rhythm. It's punctured in the middle by warped keys and voices, ending with weird loops and liquid flights. On its heels, "Sticky Tin," has subtle waves, washes and percolations that take turns running across the stereo field, not panning left and right so much as circling the head. Similarly, the group’s "Bloody Two Wrists" wrap around the skull as a metallic mist, with gongs battling back and forth through the ears. "Going to Work" is like a glacial chorus of angelic voices tunneling ever deeper into an Antarctic ice shelf on this epic journey of nearly twenty-four minutes, the largest continent centering the album. In contrast, the untitled track that follows consists only of a brief, deafening klang! before it moves along. After this point, the album becomes more active than the beginning, relying less on ambient tones and shifting sonic fields and instead utilizing unusual textures.
Accompanied by a lot of ringing bass, and slowed, fractured voices, "Eggs Benedict" sizzles as it tries to rip the seams off of time itself. "Of Feminine Proportions" has a conniving underbelly that builds into a hive-like finale. Probably my favorite track on the album is its last, "Existing on an Aquatic Theme." The theme of the title is exemplified by looped vocals that sound like broken mechanical owls floating back and forth across the song’s surface, tethered by a rusty, high pitch, and buoyed by reverberating bass smudges.
The disc’s many nuances really come alive with undivided attention, and because of this it’s not the sort of album to play in the background while doing other things. Although it’s too bad that this tour didn’t happen, thankfully this artifact survived in its place. Not only is it a thrilling hint of what might have been, it’s also a remarkable and intriguing document on its own.
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Recorded at four separate studios, mastered by two different individuals, and performed by nine musicians, Fading Trails is looser, perhaps a little grittier, and heavily stripped down compared to What Comes After the Blues. Where that album sometimes seemed a bit too full, packed to the brim with sound, this is the Company's return to a looser, more open sound.
Secretly Canadian
"Don't Fade On Me" might be the sonic antithesis to "The Dark Don't Hide It." It begins the album on a quiet note, a lament that strolls more than it attempts to break down any walls. Despite the fact that What Comes After Blues had a number of beautiful, inward-bound moments, the production and emphasis on that album was the presence of sound and on Fading Trails the band makes sure that the opposite is true. All of these songs play with the spaces in between the notes, allowing tension, rhythm, and simple grooves drive the music. The guitars aren't as prominent as before on some songs. Pianos and Molina's voice often take the lead, small details emerging in the music when the two breathe more than they exhale (as on "The Old Horizon"). Anyone who heard the free download of "Lonesome Valley" (from this album) will know that there was a simpler focus on this record, the instrumentation becoming full when it needs to, but also laying off when Molina's attitude and strong voice demand to be up front and center.
Some of Molina's solo work has bled into the Magnolia recordings this time, with songs like "A Little At a Time" exhibiting the sort of desolation that makes a Molina record so appealing. It's as though the band has found a way to strike a happy medium between the first Magnolia album and What Comes After the Blues. I miss the overtly country themes that crept out on that first album, but the band invokes the same feelings those songs stirred up by keeping the music simple, memorable, and less controlled. The breathing room this provides also conjures up some ghosts, Molina playing with styles more and turning out some truly haunting moments. "The Old Horizon" might be one of my favorite songs from Magnolia Electric Co. and it certainly stands out on this record; the song is as barren as they come, resonating more than any song on the album. It forces the other songs to rotate about it as though it were a strange black hole on the record where everything gets swallowed up. On it, Molina reawakens some of his mystical imagery to draw connections between disparate thoughts or ideas. It works on two levels, as an expressionistic and breathtaking harmony between lyrics and music, but also thematically. "The Old Horizon" is slowly disappearing, becoming more impossible to capture; with it the album changes course.
The use of keyboards, acoustic guitar, electric stabs, and the circular, swirling melodies on "Talk To Me Devil, Again" create a strange blend of reflective and swaggering music. It's as though the melancholy on the album can't stand still because it's too drunk and busy daydreaming to realize it's sad. The entire second half of the album practically bathes in this feeling of simultaneous sadness and joy, sounding as though it was written as a process or a way of recognizing the joy in overcoming some difficulty. Then again, the album ends with "Steady Now." The song begins and Molina sings, "Everything in it's place, the world does have to end in pain." I'm instantly reminded of Songs:Ohia and "Cross the Road, Molina." The mood is perfect and the acoustic guitar seems to carry a weight with it that its size and shape shouldn't be able to lift. Nonetheless, there's a certain pessimism that this song leaves me with, as though the Fading Trails of the title are fading for everyone. "The world does have to go in pain / Oh steady now / Everything in it's place / Steady now" and then the album ends. There's no way to listen to this record and not have it weighing on me later. It sticks to my mind and appeals to my heart just as much.
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While I never feverishly anticipate everything this Hoboken trio releases I do enjoy their music for the most part. When Matador gave the opening track away, the killer 10+ minute "Pass the Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind," I was excited for an album that could live up such a promising track. Unfortunately, what follows is a deluge of mediocrity.
While "Pass the Hatchet,..." isn't reminiscent of Krautrock, I do feel a similar affinity to a good Neu jam: it's got a great hook, a chugging rhythm, and feels comfortable and right at being long for a rock song. Vocals are raw and low in the mix, creating an enjoyable conflict with the instruments while wailing guitar solo action provides ample fill for when there's no words. Its counterpart, the long closer "The Story of Yo La Tengo" is almost as promising, and while I do appreciate the build it's almost too Sonic Youth worshipping and doesn't have the same hook or appeal as the opener did. It, like the 13 songs that separate each suffer from a lack of as much drive or energy as the opener and are full of blaise chord progressions and boring vocals.
"Beanbag Chair" feels like a trite indie rock cliche, "Mr. Tough" creepily strikes me as the only rhythm any stuffy NPR host will groove to this year, the post-exotica organ-heavy "The Room Got Heavy" has been done better by Stereolab numerous times over, and "Watch Out For Me Ronnie" is just a sort of insincere punk tribute with embarassingly painful guitar riffs. I actually don't have much of a problem with the ballads like "Black Flowers," or the Georgia-sung "I Feel Like Going Home," as they're far more compelling listens than the upbeat songs, creating enough of a conflict with the rocking tunes. The ballads like "The Weakest Part" and "Song for Mahlia," however, easily put me to sleep.
Yo La Tengo are good songwriters and have come up with some of my favorite tunes, but I have yet to be won over by any of their albums as a while. I do feel that they often fail at quality control: nurturing 8-9 songs into something great on the is always worth more for my tastes than throwing together 15 songs of mixed quality.
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4AD readies “Wake”
a two-disc DEAD CAN DANCE collection
release date: October 10th, 2006
4AD is excited to release a condensed compilation of Dead Can Dance
music. “Wake” contains tracks chosen by Brendan Perry from the out
of print limited-edition box set, which was released by 4AD in 2001.
The compilation spans Dead Can Dance’s entire career, including the
last track that Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry completed as the band
‘The Lotus Eaters’ (previously only available on the box set).
Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry formed Dead Can Dance in the early
‘80s, releasing eight critically acclaimed and highly individual
albums during their seventeen year career with 4AD. As well as being
a unique musical force, Dead Can Dance are also one of the most
commercially successful 4AD bands, selling millions worldwide. Since
the band’s split in 1998, both Lisa and Brendan have continued making
music. Brendan Perry released his stunning ‘Eye Of The Hunter’ album
in 1999 and Lisa Gerrard has recorded solo albums and contributed her
glorious vocals to film scores such as ‘The Insider’, ‘Heat’ and
‘Gladiator’, for which she received a Golden Globe award and was
nominated for an Academy Award. Lisa also did the soundtrack to the
award winning New Zealand movie ‘Whale Rider’.
Given the huge success of the 2005 Dead Can Dance reunion tour, now
is the time to revisit this hugely influential band.
“Utilizing traditional instruments in untraditional combinations,
Dead Can Dance have created a sound that is distinctly their own, and
instantly recognizable.” PITCHFORK
“...a breathtaking fusion of ancient and modern sounds, the results
of which often transcend the stylistic entrapments of a specific
culture for something larger.” CMJ
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ARAB STRAP | TEN YEARS OF TEARS
Farewell compilation album released early 2007
After six studio albums, three live albums and countless gigs, Arab Strap
are to split up. A book-end compilation album and a celebratory farewell
tour will mark the end of Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton's ten year
relationship. The Last Romance, released in 2005, will remain their final
studio offering.
"There's no animosity, no drama. We simply feel we¹ve run our course,"
explains Aidan. "The Last Romance seems the most obvious and logical final
act of the Arab Strap studio adventure. Everybody likes a happy ending."
Titled Ten Years Of Tears (a nod to the critics who frequently pegged Arab
Strap as "Falkirk miserablists'), the compilation is by no means a
traditional 'Best Of' collection. Comprising B-sides, demos, remixes, new
recordings, live tracks and Peel sessions, it's a handpicked selection
designed to give a full picture of this unique band.
"The idea of the compilation is to capture the essence of the band over our
ten year career," says Malcolm. "Sometimes the albums were a bit stifled
because we were worrying too much about making a good album. I think that
live versions of songs and b-sides etc show a truer, more relaxed side to
the band. Ten Years Of Tears can serve both as an introduction to Arab Strap
and also a fitting finale to those people who have followed us along the
way."
Acquaintances on the Falkirk scene, Aidan and Malcolm became friends in
1995. They soon began making music together, telling twisted tales of messy
sexual encounters, shit jobs, titanic drinking sessions and the twisted
chemistries of human relationships. They called themselves Arab Strap after
a sex toy Aidan spotted in a porn mag.
Signing to Chemikal Underground, they released their debut single, The First
Big Weekend, a tale of Aidan and Malcolm's adventures on the weekend
Scotland were knocked out of Euro '96, in September of that year. A cult
classic, it's included on this compilation along with a recording from their
debut live performance. Over the years that followed, we were given
countless glimpses into the intimately private lives of our two
protagonists, whether they were pondering the risk of STDs (Packs Of Three)
or wondering if they'd get to shag that friend of the cellist from Belle &
Sebastian (I Saw You).
"No one really writes honest, hateful love songs," Aidan once said. "The
kids never hear it like they should hear it. They should know of the
farting, the fighting and the fucking. The pain and the pleasure."
Together, Aidan and Malcolm have created some of the most beautifully
observed and brutally painful music of the last ten years. The album ends,
appropriately enough, with the triumphal There Is No Ending. The story
continues with Malcolm's solo career (he's currently recording his new album
with Tony Dougan at The Castle Of Doom in Glasgow) and Aidan¹s recordings as
his alter ego L. Pierre (new album 'Dip' released early 2007) and a
spoken-word album and tour in late 2007. And then there's this album, which
serves as a key to that astonishing back catalogue. Future generations who
want to know about the farting, the fighting and the fucking will hopefully
know where to look.
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Crunchy, harsh, trance, rhythmic, noise, acidic, violent and unavoidable are all words that have been used to describe the music of Terrorfakt. The NYC based artist has been grafting infectious and innovative power noise trance since 2001. their corrosive music has re-invented and infused the noise and trance genres of electronic music with fresh ideas and influences. Their second album on Metropolis, Teethgrinder, is a myriad of torment, anger, confusion, hatred and pain. Agressive is too mild of a word to describe the pummeling beats, explosive rhythms, critical state melodies and self-destructive tempo. With the most raging album you'll hear this year, Terrorfakt has reached unprecedented levels with the seething Teethgrinder.
Teethgrinder tracklisting:
01. Welcome To Hell RA MP3
02. Headcase
03. The Unknown
04. Damage
05. Skullfucker
06. The Fine Art Of Killing Yourself RA MP3
07. Empire
08. Rhythm & Hate
09. Stormbreaker
10. M15
11. Crown Of Thorns
12. Do Unto Others
13. Sie Bringen Mich Um
14. Animal
15. We Gave Till We Bled
16. Welcome To Hell (Reshanked by Manufactura)
17. The Fine Art Of Killing Yourself (Refined by Tonikom)
FALL TOUR w/ TONIKOM
09.07.06 - Garfield Werks - Pittsburgh, PA
09.08.06 - Empire @ Whitehawk Cafe - Penn Hills, PA - DJ DATE
09.09.06 - The Phantasy - Lakewood, OH
09.11.06 - Jakes - Bloomington, IN
09.12.06 - Smalls - Hamtramck (Detroit), MI
09.13.06 - The Inferno - Madison, WI
09.14.06 - Star Central - Minneapolis, MN - CANCELLED
09.15.06 - Spot 6 - Chicago, IL (with Caustic)
09.17.06 - Bluebird Theater- Denver, CO
09.20.06 - Sabalas Mt. Tabor - Portland, OR
09.21.06 - The Vogue - Seattle, Wa
09.24.06 - The DNA Lounge - San Fransisco, CA
09.27.06 - Infirmary - Garden Grove, CA
09.29.06 - The Krave Lounge - Las Vegas, NV
09.30.06 - Sadisco @ Mardi Gras - Scottsdale, AZ
10.01.06 - House Of Rock N Roll - El Paso, TX
10.04.06 - The Conservatory - OK City, OK
10.05.06 - Darkside Lounge - Dallas, TX
10.06.06 - Sanctuary - San Antonio, TX
10.07.06 - Havok - Houston, Tx
10.10.06 - Club Red - Gainesville, FL
10.12.06 - Young Avenue Deli - Memphis, TN
10.13.06 - Main Street Lounge - Louisville, KY
10.14.06 - Outback Lodge - Charlottesville, Va
10.18.06 - Asylum, Washington D.C.
10.19.06 - Alchemy, Washington D.C. - DJ DATE ONLY
10.28.06 - Valentines - Albany, NY
Terrorfakt | Tonikom | Metropolis Records
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"Dogwood Rust" activates the fuzzed-out, manipulated, rock-crushing side of this five piece from the get-go and lambasts the speakers with the same kind of punishment they've made a name for themselves on. Comet on Fire have undoubtedly changed, though, adding a melodic, tuneful side to their chaotic free-form rock.
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The second album from Brooklyn’s instrumental electrodisco darlings Ratatat is a remarkably flat-footed affair. Operating under the guise of familiarity, the group manages to leave almost no distinctive imprint on this somewhat boring album.
Although it initially comes across as interesting if not exciting, closer inspection reveals how bland this album actually is. The disc starts off promisingly enough with "Montanita," yet the song says all it has to say in the first minute and doesn’t really go anywhere. "Lex" has a great opening, but other than embellishing the main riff in a few different ways, it does little else of note and begs for vocals. Vocals and decent lyrics might be the missing ingredient here, especially if the words inspired the group to expand their songwriting. Instead, something like "Kennedy" comes across as an instrumental remix of some other, better song.
Most of these tracks have one good idea that the group tries to dress up ad nauseam, but to tedious effect. "Loud Pipes" is a good example of this, then again so is almost any other song on the album. On the other hand, I’m a sucker for "Wildcat" if only for the sampled wildcat growl that shows up throughout the song. The music itself is somewhat monotonous electric boogie dance floor fare, but something about that wildcat makes me smile and keeps me listening.
Maybe if I’d first heard this album in a more festive context, I might have liked it more. However, its weaknesses far outweigh its strengths and it’s much too dull, especially when I’d rather be dancing. This could have been a great party album, but instead it comes across as just another retread of things that were done better the first time around.
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"Dogwood Rust" activates the fuzzed-out, manipulated, rock-crushing side of this five piece from the get-go and lambasts the speakers with the same kind of punishment they've made a name for themselves on. Comet on Fire have undoubtedly changed, though, adding a melodic, tuneful side to their chaotic free-form rock.
Blue Cathedral had plenty on it to offer in the way of southern comforts and with a name like "Whiskey River" on that album it would be impossible not to think a little of the country's lower region had touched this band's ears. Comets on Fire weren't finished there, though, and everything on Avatar points to the rowdy and relaxed land below the Mason-Dixon. "Dogwood Rust" rumbles and soars in a haze of cymbals and walking bass lines, guitars springing over that rhythm with a strut and maybe some stumbling: it's a righteous mix of all things rock 'n' roll.
There's a purity in its sound that can't help but illicit all the silliest guitar solo faces in the world. With the rhythm section holding everything down nice and tight, everyone else in the band has the chance to show their stuff, literally exploding with bits of melody and feedback. I'm not sure I could handle this much rock if this pace were continued throughout the album and the band shows their increased song-writing ability by keeping that mania present, but slowing things down a little, focusing their noise enraptured energy into smaller spaces and slower cadences.
After the rough and tumble "Dogwood Rust" comes to a halt, the band turns everything down without damaging their sound, without removing themselves from that power that made them so unavoidable in the first place. "Jaybird" is a sweetly melodic jam that meanders about as though a stroll in the country were its only natural comparison. Ethan Miller's vocals seem to be simultaneously yelled and whispered, carried by the incessant circularity of the again excellent rhythm section. The whole band seems to loosen up, but they continue to play with that same insistence, that same forward driving motion that makes all of their songs rock by necessity. Avatar is riddled with songs like this. "Lucifer's Memory" and "Sour Smoke" both feel propelled by the fiery hand of a rock 'n' roll Jesus, but their jazz-influenced arrangements bring all the sound to a smokey crawl. Some of these songs could easily be dances as orchestrated in hell by the spirits of a demented voodoo tribe or they could be smoked-out ritual music for people out to have a good time. I guess it doesn't matter, this stuff sounds fantastic.
There's plenty of freaked out, fuzzy bliss on Avatar, too. "The Swallow's Eye" starts slow and then begins to take off, slowly building the sort of steam that can only end in disaster; the result is the concussive, million-mile-per-hour thrash fest, "Holy Teeth." It's as though the band couldn't keep a lid on their excitement and they just had to give themselves the opportunity to sacrifice their instruments and blow their amps to dust.
This album holds together well and stands out in my mind as one of the best things released this year for a lot of reasons, but the main one is that Comets on Fire have their own voice and no matter how much they borrow from the past or from other, well-known genres, that voice stays loud and clear. On top of that, they've continued to grow as songwriters; their obsession with sound and power has evolved. They've learned how to handle that aspect of their music incredibly well while juggling the tasks of writing great songs with memorable melodies and keeping their approach fresh the entire time.
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Recently I was lying on a very comfortable couch in a quiet house. For a couple of hours I was mostly asleep or in a semi-conscious dreamstate. Later I discovered that in a room nearby was a cat who had infrequently remembered that it wanted to get out and engaged in brief episodes of door-rattling. Listening to this record is very like that experience: peaceful, hypnotic, slightly disturbing, repetitive, flawed, transporting.
The three untitled pieces on Guitar Realtime Processing offer a sense of mesmeric stilless and vague movement. As with Eno's Oblique Strategies to some extent, and his ambient systems in particular, more might be gained by discarding the usual preconception of how to proceed; by not actively listening. This is sound as shifting and surrounding as fog, yet with an odd emotional impact. In terms of direction or coaxing, there's little to follow. Something approaching constant change and insubstantial permanence emerges. It is the audio equivalent of a rarely visited brook, or (as in Murakami's South Of The Border, West Of The Sun) of "rain softly falling on a vast sea, with no one there to see it."
Dinkins, a former resident of Shreveport, also records as Unguent. The history of music in Shreveport gives no clues to the sound of this record, however. Leadbelly favored the twelve-string, and was from Shreveport and although new evidence suggest they might be from Slidell, The Residents still claim Shreveport as their site of origin, before—like Dinkins—a relocation to California. On a map of sound, the location of Guitar Realtime Processing is closer to the least tuneful aspects of Budd & Partridge's Through The Hill. While these sketches lack the austere depth of such contemplative works as Nils Okland's Bris, it's similarly a record in which to get lost, and American Routes be damned.
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