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As per minimalist instruction, Potpie's releases have largely pursued his own version of a straight line for nigh on a decade. All the better then, for being a straight line unfit for use as a sobriety test. At their best, in spite of (or due to) the use of comparitively primitive methods, his hypnotic slabs of monolithic sound have a balance between disquiet and allure akin to a Rothko, albeit one in wax-crayon or marker pen.
On Waterline the trademark sine-wave-generated drones are as intense as ever, yet guitar, chord organ, bullhorn and their ilk, are succesfully reintegrated, without compromising the less-is-more aesthetic. Opener "The Embryo Hunts In Secret" slowly comes into focus as if offering an answer to the unasked and unanswerable question: To what would The Sphinx listen? By contrast, the urgent jolt of "Saturn Jam" suggests a sudden change in circumstances. Perhaps the imagined sound of Sun Ra's life support system being switched off and his soul instantly transported to an unexplored outpost, for a final welcome from jabbering angels and demons.
The clever "Manson/Nixon Jam" has a shrill, threatening atmosphere, but with a detectable Canterbury feel sauntering innocently through the space inhabited by bullhorn and guitar. I anxiously began to imagine Robert Wyatt's injuries arising from a stray bullet on an Ohio campus, rather than from his tumble out of a window.
With very few exceptions, mostly yet to be heard, I detest the sound (almost as much as the social history) of the organ. So, while I personally don't care for "Untitled chord organ solo #1" as a track, (and hope #2 remains unconceived or is strangled at birth) the piece definitely provides useful contrast. Similarly, although organ-free, the immersing and complex claustrophobia of "Instruction in the Great Science of the Six-Syllable Mantra" is every bit as impressive as it is unloveable.
Potpie—like cave painters, boxcar artists, and Mark E. Smith—appears driven to articulate with whatever tools are to hand and in a style of his own choosing. The music has evolved despite an environment predominently composed of disinterest, puzzlement, passive hostility and accidental acclaim. Nevertheless, some of his previous pieces could have flushed Orwellian-style enemy figureheads from hiding, days before Metal Marine Music could take effect. I mean that as nothing less than the square root of a compliment.
The short "Blues For The Lower 9" is undoubtedly the centerpiece of this release and leaves me wishing the track was at least five times as long. It combines a poignant acoustic guitar figure, a drone, and apparently the faraway voices of urban children at play. You've seen them: yelling and barechested, laughing at play in fire-hydrant water, oblivious to being as statistically doomed as kids can be. In New Orleans, they are largely absent now. Eat shit Dr John, Aaron Neville and Wynton Marsalis, for this simple collage is as apt a post-Katrina depiction as I can imagine, in part because, like so many of the displaced lives to which it's echoes pay subtle tribute, it is destined to never be widely heard.
The Backporch Revolution label issues Potpie’s releases in editions of 18, with hand drawn and submerged CD covers. This particular Waterline will soon disappear.
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Evidence of how much Pavement still means to some people can be found in the reaction this band elicited after their performance at SXSW. There wasn't a single Pixie loving, Malkmus worshipping writer and/or music nut in existence that didn't have words of praise for this four piece plastered across their website at some point. Practically find an entire album's worth of free music from these guys can be found online because everyone wants to spread the joyous word of Tapes 'n Tapes. The Loon is not, however, everything everyone has made it out to be. While it doesn't inspire dry heaves in me every time I hear it, it doesn't exactly make me want to sing hallelujah. Letting the dust settle around a band always seems to reveal a sensation for a dud. The Loon isn't a dud and it thankfully doesn't revolt me. In fact, I like a couple of songs on this album.
The record begins, there is singing, guitar playing, drums pounding, the usual, and then later the album is over and I feel as if I've been cheated of my thoughts. All the musicians are obviously talented and they play well together; all the things that don't necessarily form the building blocks of a great record are present. I wish the band were much worse or much better than they are, because their popularity has now baffled me. How can a band be hailed as a group of mavericks and simultaneously be praised for their apparently deft handling of indie scripture? This is another rock record, another indie album that successfully rides a line between accessible pop and so called sophisticated, tasteful rock.
I suppose it's just another lesson in how out of hand praise can be when a bored or perhaps overexcited fan witnesses what he or she perceives to be a genre or musically defining moment. With the internet, MP3s, blogs, message boards, and a myriad of band sites available, anybody with a computer can access an enormous history of music. Such an advantage can be expected to breed dissatisfaction with repetitious, generic, and derivative music, but the opposite is happening. Everyone knows who Pavement was and now this generation wants a Pavement of their own. I'm bored with it: mediocre music by anyone (Pavement and Tapes 'n Tapes included) is still just mediocre music.
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Vendlus
Diadem of 12 Stars is made up of four lengthy songs that meander through not only the nighted realms of black metal but there is also more melodic elements (a big folk influence from the sounds and looks of things). Musically Wolves in the Throne Room remind me of early Opeth with their blending of styles. Within the first five minutes of “Queen of the Borrowed Light,” they not only have the two guitarists unleashed a healthy amount of face melting riffing but they also break seamlessly into a gorgeous clean interlude. I know it’s not exactly innovative but they pull it off well. Also worthy of mention is the second part of “Face in a Night Time Mirror” which combines both the overdriven assault and a delay drenched refrain that sounds like an outtake from one of Constellation’s releases.
Both guitarists also provide vocals and unfortunately they didn’t always gel with me. One of them isn’t that bad, his growls are competent if a bit run of the mill. However the other one spends too much of his time sounding like Dani Filth (from the pantomime that is Cradle of Filth). The singing fits the music but because of this association I have with the sound of his vocals I keep cringing whenever he opens his mouth. I’m sure I’ll get over it. There are a lot of female vocals (actual singing as opposed to growls and screeches) which complement the two lads’ more extreme cries. The woman singing on the first part of “Face in a Night Time Mirror” sounds both corny and great for her overly dramatic delivery.
As much as I’ve blathered on about mixing styles, Diadem of 12 Stars is unashamedly metal. The double bass drumming is constant; almost too constant as it becomes background noise at times. Apart from that and the slightly annoying vocals this album shows Wolves in the Throne Room in a very good light. While I won’t go so far to say that they represent a mainstream version of black metal, they are more polished and less contrary than most of the underground metal bands. Diadem of 12 Stars is a solid album and I hope the Wolves don’t leave it long before howling again.
samples:
- Queen of the Borrowed Light
- Face in a Night Time Mirror (Part 2)
- (A Shimmering Radiance) Diadem of 12 Stars
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If anything, he's been more prolific than ever with his Howling Hex project. In recent years, he's released a number of albums, some of them on limited vinyl, and last year's You Can't Beat Tomorrow even came with a DVD with the pilot of a half hour variety show of the same name. Such a shame, then, that he would release a dull album as undistinguished as this one. The group is a trio this time around, with hand drums replacing a more conventional rock kit. It's an effective substitution, but the album needs more than that to save it. Hagerty's use of the baritone guitar in the place traditionally held by the bass is an attempt at versatility but isn't quite so smooth. Perhaps the instrument's partly to blame. I've heard other bands try to use the baritone similarly and it's a tough one to pull off. Instead of a satisfying combination of the best aspects of both a guitar and a bass, it often doesn't sound enough like either. For example, when Hagerty tries to get funky on "Lips Begin to Move," the instrument comes off surprisingly flat.
"Hammer and Bluebird" and "Six Pack Days" are probably the most fully realized tracks on the album, yet even these aren't without their indulgences. "How Many Steps Now" isn't far behind, but the chorus eventually becomes tiresome in its repetition. As much as every song's male and female dual vocals remind me of Hagerty's previous group, they're still the biggest draw here and perhaps the most enjoyable element overall. In fact, these are just about the only sections that work, period. What I don't like is the noodling in between the vocal parts in which I find my mind wandering as much as the guitarist does. The worst part about these songs, though, is their length. Each one goes on far too long and the improvised parts have too few changes or other instrumental interplay to support them.
Trimming the fat on these would severely reduce the running time of the album, but it would make it far more enjoyable.
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Coming across as a stripped down version of Pelican, Una Corda combine melodic playing with a heavy edge. There’s no denying that Una Corda are tight; all of the pieces on this EP are performed with acute precision. Unfortunately the power that they displayed during their performance at Supersonic recently isn’t prevalent for most of the disc. There are times when the vitality they have pokes through (such as on “Three” which was worth the purchase alone) but thanks to a slightly muddy mix Proper Position for Floating [1881] isn’t as good as it should be. However it didn’t cost me much and hopefully Una Corda will release a better document of their work soon.
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Silber
Looking past the unsightly layout of the sleeve (fantastic drawings with disgusting fonts), the album opens with “Faint Echoes Ran Round the Unseen Hall (Part 1)” which sets the mood for the rest of Dronesyndrome: unease. Thick drones and incidental noises immediately fill the room and smatterings of drumming and guitar add a hint of menace to the piece. As first impressions go this has definitely put Kobi in my good books.
Instead of relying purely on drones (and Kobi are adept at creating spectacular drones) they also utilize a sparse drumming style on many tracks. They capture a primal feeling that is all too frequently absent in music. This is the sort of music that is best experienced in the dark while lying down. It is easy to get lost between the sounds and occasionally get pulled back into the land of the living. One of the song titles nails this sentiment: “Interspersed with Semi-conscious Moments.” This piece is claustrophobic and unsettling. The watery noises and scraping made me feel ill at ease. Here the group do not just rely on synthesised drones but also with cello which makes the piece sound closer to home, intensifying the force of the piece.
Some elements used during Dronesyndrome I’m less than hot on. “This Inclusion is not a Simple Operation” uses a recording that sounds like it was taken from a pre-recorded tour guide from some crappy museum. The music used in this piece is of the same quality as the rest of the album but the sound of this man talking about local history doesn’t sit well with it. Luckily these niggling moments are few and Kobi mostly bypass the usual pitfalls of dark, atmospheric music.
Kobi make great use of dynamics throughout Dronesyndrome. Careful attention to detail (it’s taken two years to make and it shows) has paid off because this album sounds amazing. The mix is never overcrowded; there is plenty of space between the sounds. This meticulous production on top of the distinctively good music means that I’ll be placing Dronesyndrome in a place of prominence on my CD rack.
samples:
- Faint Echoes Ran Round the Unseen Hall (Part 1)
- The Evening was Unusually Sultry and Heavy
- Such Variations will be Encountered Again
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When I heard about their reunion a few years back, I was glad that they were giving themselves the opportunity to enjoy the fan base that had grown around them in their absence since their premature dissolution. Yet when they took that a step further and announced an album of new material, I was afraid they might be tempting fate by risking their legendary status with songs that betrayed the fact that they hadn't played together in so long. In some ways, the resulting ONoffON did little to assuage my doubts. The stronger songs were from the later end of Burma's first era and the others showed signs of rust as they overreached a bit trying to figure out whom exactly their new audience was. As a result, I wasn't terribly excited when I found out about the release of The Obliterati, but I had no reason to worry as it has in abundance everything I thought the previous album lacked.
Something I've always liked about Burma is how democratically they operate. No instrument is more important than another, and yet each element remains distinctively compelling within the whole. From the beginning they're tight and crisp as"2wice" hits with punchy drums that eventually culminate in a stunning anthemic statement that other lesser bands spend an entire album trying to discover, yet Burma's only getting started. Their sense of dynamics has always been one of their strengths, and in that respect this album is no different, such as on "Spider's Web" when they use space as a compositional tool or the beginning of "1001 Pleasant Dreams," which effectively builds tension. This also works on a larger scale in the way they sequence their songs, keeping things fresh by building momentum and then changing the pace, whether from the straight thrust of "Man In Decline," the slower yet effective "Period," or the instrumental "The Mute Speaks Out."
One thing that's a little different is the way they use vocals this time out. The first couple of tracks have unexpected harmonies and falsettos, but it's not until "Donna Sumeria" that the vocals steal the spotlight in a harmonic break that harkens back to Motown without straying too far from their own sound. The good thing about the chances they take with the singing is that they work. Even the unholy, airy chorus in "Nancy Reagan's Head" feels like a natural diversion rather than something arbitrary. Lyrically, they've retained their passion and conviction even while exploring some tender thoughts without having to sacrifice the music in the process. Of course they still have their smart-ass sense of humor, epitomized when they take a shot at our Former First Lady on, appropriately enough, "Nancy Reagan's Head": "And I'm haunted by the freakish size/Of Nancy Reagan's head/No way that thing came with that body." Bob Weston deserves a lot of the credit for the sound of this album. Not only does he make every element sound vitally important and unique, but the various loops and other noises he adds in Martin Swope's former role are exquisitely placed within both the songs' structures and the mix itself.
With this album, Burma prove that whatever curse may have hung over them in a previous era is long gone and rather than merely deserving success, they've done more than enough to earn it.
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This selection of works by López is disappointingly lacklustre. Compared to his normally vibrant work, the pieces here are drab and unexciting. Most of it feels like López is just rehashing various older ideas and not pushing any of the boundaries that usually make his work interesting.
 
Anoema
Untitled (2005) is uneventful. I find it hard to believe that any artist, let alone one as talented as López, could make lush field recordings from a Brazilian rainforest into something so banal but he manages. "Untitled #178" is just over 15 minutes of said tedium. Part of the problem is that the fidelity of the recording is quite poor, in addition to the trebly sounds of nature there is extra hiss that turns insect calls into slurs. The experience is like listening to a third generation tape on a crappy all in one stereo which is not exactly appealing.
The second half of the album is a little more exciting than the first. "Untitled #111 (For Jani Christou)" is a commissioned piece performed on an array of normal instruments (saxophone, tuba, cello, double bass, etc.) but with all instrument identity processed into oblivion. A metallic, reverb-laden drone is all that is left which gains momentum into noisy static. It isn’t particularly exciting but is a step in the right direction after the first two pieces.
The final piece, "Untitled #183," finds López nearly back on form. It is a collection of field recordings made in Quebec over two summers and it is a huge step up from the Amazon recordings discussed earlier. The sounds of bees and running water are fresh and animated. López has successfully captured the character of the environment. This piece makes Quebec seem about a hundred times more appealing than the Amazon. This isn’t to say that this piece is amazing; it reflects more on the mediocrity of "Untitled #178."
Since being turned on to López about two years ago I’ve been continually pleased with what I’ve heard. However Untitled (2005) is a blow to his reputation in my eyes. It is almost like a conveyer belt version of one of his better albums. I imagine this is a blip as opposed to a sudden change in the quality of his work and I hope that his future releases return to the level of composition that I know he is capable of.
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Beta-lactam Ring
A dying submariner, lost in some dismal cinema of murky water, frightening aquatic life, and the weight of death literally on his shoulders is all the artwork for this release sugggests to me. The blind eyes, exposed teeth, and pale complexion on the cover are supposed to say a little something about the dive suit seen inside the packaging. When those first hidden piano notes begin to rumble like a monster rising from the depths, it is easy to think that the rest of this album is going to be a dark ride, the first and last adventure of someone who is unaware of the danger lurking below.
The Dying Submariner..., however, reminds me more of a classical fantasia, a whimsical adventure worthy of far more color and infused with a life equally as complex as the zoology of creatures suggested by the artwork. There are minor chords struck by Liles' piano playing, but there is also a flurry of activity that skips about in the music, very noticeable in the closing moments of the first movement and readily apparent at other times in each of the other pieces. This could be contributed to how naked much of Liles' performance is. While there is no orchestra to make this a concerto proper, the reverb of the title does add a sense of accompaniment. By itself, however, is Liles' beautiful writing and performance, standing above the simple reverb and feeding off of it simultaneously: eloquent and poetic at times, it conjures a sense of depth and emotional content, and then harsh and invigorating other times with the full range of fear, anger, and confusion instilled in Liles' heavy handed strikes and melancholic strokes.
Each track brings a different thrill despite the monochromatic possibilities inherent in arranging for a single instrument and effect. Liles makes beautiful use of the piano's voice, letting it ring out and sing in a way that reminds of Claude Debussy's work at times. Despite the crushing weight of the water, of depression, of doubt, there is a sense of hope and happiness in the way the instrument is played upon. There can be no doubt of the darkness surrounding this piece, however. So, at other times, Liles exposes the instrument as a rotten beast, coughing and hacking into tunnels so deep and dangerous that man hasn't dared to touch their mysteries. Liles continues to outdo himself over and over again. I know he's played with Nurse with Wound, but comparisons between him and Steven Stapleton make as much as sense as comparisons between Salvador Dalí and Georges Bataille do (that is to say that comparison is becoming null and void, the result of a genre's name moreso than a result of any musical similarity). Liles voice continues to grow more unique and more diverse with time. This album should not be missed.
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The two pieces from the VS split with Kid606 make up the backbone of Versus. Both “Soma” and “Reso-I” are fantastic tracks. For the uninitiated, 5ive are a two piece instrumental band. With just guitar and drums they build up some of the most exciting music. These two pieces highlight 5ive’s talents. Ben Carr’s guitars are thickly layered without the sound becoming mushy. The distortion he gets out of his amp, especially on “Reso-I,” makes his riffing sound like balls of flame. Charlie Harrold’s drumming complements the guitar playing exceptionally; these are two musicians that are well in tune with each other. The best thing about the duo is that even though the songs are longish, they know when the piece has gone far enough and stop.
Broadrick adds his distinctive touch to two remixes of “Soma.” The first one acts as a short intro to Versus. It is radically different to the original mix; the huge rocking vibes from 5ive are replaced with Broadrick’s fragile shimmer. It’s a run of the mill mix for Broadrick and its brevity stops it going anywhere. The second remix is much better. 5ive may as well not be on the track as it is pure Broadrick. This could sit easily on a Jesu release. A slow drum beat, a simple guitar melody and those gorgeous synthesisers that Broadrick uses make this a stunning reconstruction of “Soma.”
This EP isn’t essential if you own the Kid 606 split. However, for me it is a better purchase because I don’t particularly like Kid 606 so having those two tracks along with one great remix (and one superfluous remix) on a separate CD is my preference.
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Phonophani’s self titled debut was first released in 1998 and now it has been reissued with an additional three tracks. Consider these bonuses add up to a sizeable 20 minutes of music (which is of the same quality as the original album), it is well worth repurchasing. From the second “I.F.A.” starts to the time the CD spins down I was captivated. With each listen I found new sounds and textures opening up. Huge segments of the album feel alien; it doesn’t sound like a human made some of this music. At other times Eide’s personality and mortality shine through, the looped acoustic guitar and gently sung vocals on “C” show this more than anywhere else. In contrast “Zurnas” has a gorgeous rhythm not unlike the kind of unorthodox beat that Coil would use. It’s like Eide has tapped into a transmission from another dimension. The off kilter rhythms continue throughout the album; they’re compelling but just weird enough to set you at unease.
It’s not just peculiar beats that Eide uses to great effect; he also uses a range of glitches and almost symphonic swells of sound. “Duration-happiness” makes use of violin type sounds (they could be violins or they could be synthesiser, no details are given for what Eide has used) to create a gentle and melancholic mood. This is another feature of Eide’s music that I fell in love with, his ability to connect emotionally with his audience through sound. The aforementioned “C” is the most obvious example of Eide breaking through due to its conventional instrumentation. More abstract pieces like “Sol” and “Kaliphoni” are just as potent.
It is a beautiful album from all angles; the pieces are composed and played wonderfully, the production is top notch and the sleeve fits the otherworldly feel of the music.The Norwegian government must be adding something magical to the pickled herring. I can’t think of any other reason for so much good music coming from the north. Knowing that I’ve been missing out on it for eight years is annoying but I’m delighted to have heard it. Now it’s time for me to pick through the rest of Eide’s output.
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