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Prolific sound artist John Duncan's newest disc finds him in a kind of half-collaboration with Asmus Tietchens, whose readings from two E.M. Cioran texts become sources for the voice manipulation that has characterized Duncan's work as of late. Cioran's name should sound familiar to Tietchens listeners, as quotes from the modern philosophe/aphorist frequently appear on the musician's sleeve notes. Duncan's notes here, however, express a clear distaste for the fatalism that dominates Cioran's philosophy, a kind of a-philosophy often abbreviated in cheeky, opaque aphorisms like the one displayed on Tietchens' new FT+: "It is simple to be "deep," just follow your own false bents."Die Stadt
Part of Tietchens' reading for Da sich die Machtgier? comes from Cioran's examination of tyranny in the modern world, explaining the hamster-wheel trend in which humanity submits to the will of a great and "pitiless" dictator, degenerates into "primal disorder", and then begins again by embracing another tyrant. Strange that Duncan, who disagrees with such fatalism and actually did not even receive a translation of the text until after finishing recording, has produced a record that feels much closer to the man's doomed words than anything Tietchens ever prefaced with a Cioran quote. For three of the disc's four tracks, Duncan completely obliterates not only words themselves, but any evidence of the vocal origin of the sounds. He's taken Tietchens' original recording, presented "more or less intact" on the remaining track, and transformed it into three utterly inhuman compositions. Inhuman not because they are desolate in composition, or even because they lack expression or an emotional core, but because of the obtrusive and unforgiving way each one crowds the listening space. The noisy opener "Freih zein hoem macht" pushes miniscule fragments of vocal sound into endless repeat, a bombardment of clicking surges that somehow resists the retreat into a more atmospheric or patterned industrial space. Each sound arrives in charged, unhesitant succession, as if eager fill the gap left by its predecessor. Silence in this music, rather than offering relief or resolution, seems only to emphasize the void, offering nothing but a blank stare into the next numbing assault. Duncan's other tracks are less abrasive, though no easier to ignore. The closing "Aber..." is essentially a short, buzzing drone cycle, molded and amplified over the song's 30-min. length, but the sprawl never reaches an apex of textural complexity, nor does it develop in any kind of organic fashion. The fuzzy hum of the tones have more in common with Tietchens' voice than the other two tracks, but they are far from sounding human or even comfortable. The track becomes an endless churn, like faraway factory noise, or the sound of Cioran's wheel of history, scraping on and on. While Da sich does not lend itself to similar repetition, it does make for a thoroughly alien experience, especially in conjunction with the textual foundation.
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For the uninitiated, Dwelling craft music based on Portugese Fado, apoetic and emotive folk singing style that usually deals heavily inthemes of sorrow or love. Dwelling's approach is through acousticstring instrumentation begun by Nuno Roberto and the powerful andlovely voice of Catarina Reposo, who sings both in English andPortugese. Strangely, their music has also gained them a very largefollowing in the goth and metal communities, though the music rarelyapproaches anything resembling hard core or aggressive. This does notmean the music is not at all powerful, however. Humanais the ensemble's first full-length, after releasing an EP in 2000, andthe very least I can say is that their hearts are very much in thismusic. This is very much the motif of Fado, so it's not surprising, butthe guitar interplay and addition of violin are exquisitely played withsuch passion and life that there can be no doubt this group loves whatthey do. I found it especially interesting that there is no percussion,nor is any necessary. These songs are just fine the way they are, likea troupe of travelling minstrels entertaining the courts of manydignitaries. The borderline flamenco guitars, the fluid and stabbingviolin, and the voice of Reposo are captivating and hypnotizing. Not tosay that every song is a work of art, though, as I honestly prefer whenReposo doesn't sing in English, as it adds that layer of mystery, andEnglish with this music just smacks of wanting to reach a largeraudience. The overall feel is still incredibly moving, and fans of darkcompositions will find a lot to love here. -
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After a three year hiatus, Tomorrowland recently released this limitedpressing EP of songs on the mostly vinyl fledgling Red Antenna label. Anemoneis a continuation of their analog/electronic aesthetic, and it is apleasing listen overall, but not a giant leap forward in any case forSteve Baker and Nick Brackney. That's not necessarily a bad thing —it's admirable for a band to stick to their guns — but it means thatthe duo risk sounding like so many other like bands. The addition oflive drumming by Eric Morrison is a good step, but it's not enough tomake this release particularly noteworthy in their catalog. Withoutreal change there can be no evolution, and survival of the fittestwould leave Tomorrowland in yesterdayland. That said, there are severalpeaks to be found on their latest, most notably the first (and title)track. Eerie computer noise and processed beats kick it off, withswirls and deep bass joining in fairly quickly. It's a perfect bodymoving song, where body parts do their own thing and it's always fluid.Then the big beat drops in and the energy pumps up to eleven.Unfortunately, this begins a stasis that lasts for half the songs,where guitar noise and synthetic whine and gurgle meet with live orelectronic beats and just stay. There's a little play, but no realpeaks and valleys to speak of. The songs just aren't engaging enough.Occasionally I got pulled in, like on "Chromosome" or "Meiosis," butthen something breaks the streak — like the awkward drumming opening of"Catalyst" or the all-out noise of "Unfadeable" — and I reach for theeject button or the volume knob. It's nice to know Tomorrowland arestill around making the music that matters to them, but a littlereaching, even if it means falling occasionally, could take them a longway.
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Those who have taken the time to check out the recently updated Contributors page for The Brain may have noticed my Top 10 list for 2003. Collectively, the readers made so many lousy choices in this year's poll that I felt compelled to remind everyone that there were far more worthwhile releases in this past year than were reflected by the all-too-predictable choices. One such example comes from French producer Jonas Bering on the high-quality Kompakt label, whose releases continue to set the bar for progressive electronic music.Kompakt
Sketches For The Next Season is the full-length follow-up to 2000's debut Bienfait and displays the increasingly more danceable and accessible direction that he has moved towards over the years. The ten tracks that make up this sophomore effort are healthy doses of shimmering ambient techno and funky minimalist tech-house ideal for both bedroom and nightclub enjoyment. On the opener "Diabold," crisp 4/4 beats and tiny rhythmic elements groove along while a clinically mechanical bassline reminds us that this is 100% machine music. From there, however, the music only gets warmer. Tracks like "Nighthawks," "Ninas Song," and the absolutely gorgeous "Wissant" emit and emote near-psychedelic vibes that penetrate the mind for the sole purpose of releasing massive amounts of serotonin. I make this drug-related comment because Sketches For The New Season had a truly narcotic impact on me. Despite the fact that I was clean and sober while listening to it, I honestly felt doped up under the influence of Jonas Bering's mood-altering melodies, rhythms, and atmospheres. The echoey effected bell sounds of "Mustang 1966" twinkle and gleam over the sparsely filled spaces between beats, espousing the concept of less-is-more that characterizes most dub records. (Just so that we're clear, this album is just as much of a dub record as those from Pole, Vladislav Delay, or any other Basic Channel / Chain Reaction descendents.) Appropriately made available prior to this album's release on 12" vinyl, the single "Normandie 1" consists of a clicky bassdrum loop over some deep, deep synth textures that flood the senses. Appropriately the high (no pun intended) point here—the song's catchiness—is instant and the aurally hallucinogenic qualities are very real. Now, I haven't lost hope in all of the readers just yet, so I'm hoping that those who whined publically or privately about my Warp-bashing will take heed to what I'm saying here and purchase what was truly a worthy last minute entry to my aforementioned list. If you fail to do so, then you truly deserve eachother. All of you.
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Everybody should know by now that this boxed set completes the CD collection of all the live Throbbing Gristle concerts begun with the CD release of 24 about a year ago. Complain all you want about cashing in or whatever, but for the package, it's an appropriate price.Mute
The 10xCD set starts with the infamous Oundle Boys School (see the video with only boys between 9 and 16 in attendance), includes both Berlin shows at the S.O. 36, the Rafters gig, and ends with both US performances in Los Angeles and San Francisco. All shows have been remastered by Chris Carter and the results, once again, are astounding. First of all, these releases completely invalidate nearly all the bootleg live releases that have popped up over the years and officially released recordings like Mission of Dead Souls and the Discipline 12" with recordings that, while never crystal clear perfect, are considerably better, even when apologies are being made regarding the source material (with the exception of the Los Angeles show). Hearing the audience screaming back to the group is a wonderful insight that was usually completely muffled out by hand-cassette-made releases in the past, along with the funny opening stand-up comedy-like remarks from Genesis P-Orridge. However, what I do think they fail to do with this is compile the other cassette releases: the TG Live In the Studio (which was bootlegged only recently as Pastimes/Inudstrial Muzak) and the two untitled interview cassettes IRCA and IRCB issued with the original 24 Hours cassette box. Additionally, while the absence of track markings for each new song doesn't bother me, the absence of songlist does—especially when it was chronicled on the Chris and Cosey website a couple years back, before the utterly pointless Industrial Records website came into existence. Finally, the gifts in this box are rather dippy when compared to the illuminating book, postcards, buttons and patches that came in the 24 box: four metal credit card-sized pieces of die cut engraved metal stencils to make your own TG flash symbol. But, honestly, for the price, it's still a pretty good deal.
samples:
- Introduction (Sheffield - IRCD 33)
- Guts on the Floor (Heaven - IRCD 40)
- Marriage Carriage (Veteran's Auditorum - IRCD 44)
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Some bands just come together and beautiful sounds start to flow out.It's rare, but when it happens and the band is a true collaborationreflecting equal parts of all involved it can be truly amazing. LukeSutherland has made some fascinating music with Long Fine Killie andBows, as well as contributing lovely violin to recent Mogwai releases.Volker Bertelmann is making a name for himself with the electronic popmachinations of Tontraeger, and the two decided a project togethermight be in order. After working together a short time, withSutherland's smooth vocals and delicate guitar complementingBertelmann's beats and keys quite nicely, the two decided some bassmight round out the sound a bit better. Enter workaholic StefanSchneider, who loved what he heard and jumped in, becoming a fullmember of the band and adding his own trademark flavorings. This isindeed the aforementioned rare musical tour de force; the soundtrack ofwaking dreams, remembering what just happened in the mind and knowingthat it was truly magnificent. Sutherland's lyrics are freshly bizarrewhen present ("boy bands just escape me", "that's just fuckingheartbreak if you're a guy"), but it's clear why his work as an authorhas been lavished in recent years: he has a poet's heart with asatirist's delivery. The two electronic gurus craft a comfortable bedfor it all to lie on, and lie it does, like a young couple staring atthe clouds or stars above in wistful complacence. Even when Sutherlanddoesn't feel the need to sing and the trio just play, it's trulyhair-raising all over the place. Perfect programmed beats and chimingguitars meet with low dull bass and Rhodes in ways that are guaranteedto put a smile on the face. This is one I'll want to hear more of inthe future, I'm sure, and hopefully they're game to make it.
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This is the sound of inner experience. Isolation drifts over the bodyand the soul, trapped in a mist that slowly reveals itself over thecourse of these two discs. Jonathan Coleclough, Steven Miller, andColin Potter are all gurus of the meditative and sublime, crafting fromseemingly thin air the most delicate and shattering of sounds. This isthe hinge of their music; the juxtaposition that carries with it theforce of every living particular in the universe. Though seeminglydelicate and composed of broken clocks, cold wind through the trees,and the metallic OMof consciousness, every track has a heaviness or a weight that can feelparanoid or transcendental. Bass Communion's mix of Potter andColeclough's "Yossaria" begins as a thick grinding of sludge passingthrough layers of crust before emerging out of the darkness with thecall of a fog horn in the distance. Afterwards, the song is alldesolation and the slow collapse of time. Bass Communion virtuallystrips away all conceptual possibilities and leaves only a thing,gorgeous and nameless, to communicate with. By the end of the songbirds are chirping and the sound of a river passes by in thebackground; it truly feels like a journey from the unreal to tangiblecomfort. Potter and Coleclough both contribute two mixes. Potter sticksto a generally soft approach that only escalates the mystical aurasurrounding much of the album; his rendition of "Raiser" blendsrhythmic pulses with the chaos of a futuristic hospital bleeding thesickly glow of fluorescent lights. It's Coleclough's work that takesthe cake, however. "Pethidine" is a twenty-eight minute pause, frozenperfectly in space and time. It develops and unfolds slowly, revealingeach of its particularities only to show that they are indeed oneentity turning inside out. The effect of listening to this as loud ashumanly possible is outstanding; being surrounded physically by thissound has literally kept me warm at night. It isn't suffocation, but itis a presence. The second disc included is Coleclough's secondcontribution and the final piece of the album. Clocking in atseventy-four minutes long, "Epidural" manages to erase all memory, allsensation, and leave only the truth of intuition in its wake. Thismusic deserves a change to be recognized; its immediacy, weight, andthrust is unequalled in much of the music I know.
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It might be easy to think about this, Jeck's seventh solo release, as marking a maturation or a refinement of the artist's sound, but that analysis cheapens the singular vision he's established over the past years. Sure, he arrived in the wake of Christian Marclay's ground-breaking turntable explorations, after groups like Zoviet France had set the bar for grainy, delay-ridden loopscapes, but Jeck has, since his beginnings, created some of the most distinctive music to emerge from either turntablist or ambient traditions.Touch
He is peerless in his ability to wrest absolutely transporting, surreal textures from little more than the grooves of a few dozen records, working in a way that exposes the primitive quality of the medium almost in conjunction with, or in spite of, the hallucinogenic displacements achieved in the music. With Jeck this is never an uncomfortable experience, as the majority of his compositions lead to places awash in the same golden light and aquatic splendor that fill his Wozencroft-designed sleeves, but when it's best, Jeck's music is as riveting as it is meditative or nostalgic. Fragments of vinyl crackle and machine hum get amplified, distorted, and piled together, making static slopes that are often quicker to pummel than to caress (see "Skew" from Jeck's other new release, Host). Other prized moments find Jeck throwing truly alien records into the mix; most memorable for me are the vocals copped from some moaning gospel singer(?) that appear on 2002's enchanting Stoke, slowed down and otherwise manipulated to simulate a kind of divine response. Moments like these show the artist taking risks that remain largely absent on 7, making it an under-whelming listen. While there are many beautiful sections throughout the disc, Jeck does little to separate himself from the droning masses. Like most of his recordings, 7 was produced live, an impressive feat, especially since signs of artifice are now at an all-time low. Here, Jeck approaches a sound where all surface noises, tone-arm shivers, and loop outlines disappear in service of the whole, but the polished, perfectly integrated result comes off lacking much of what made his music so interesting before. Several of the tracks build on simple patterns or pale, one-dimensional drones, allowing for only subtle transformation over their (relatively) short lengths. 7 could be Jeck's most understated work yet, and the music is, of course, not without merit. Tracks like "Some Pennies" come close to rivaling the artist's previous work, but nothing here has the potential to invigorate, much less summarize or redefine an already impressive body of work. Those looking for a Jeck fix might have more luck with his newer, more eventful release, Host.
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Death is an opportunity, a chance to either lament the loss orappreciate what is being left. It is the struggle to go off in fear, indoubt or to depart with head held high. In any case, it is a subjectthat is difficult to approach head on—and probably for the best, as thetrue weight of dying lies not in the act itself but in everythingleading up to it. Regard the Endapproaches death obliquely, offering the feelings, textures, andmusings on life that make death such a spectacular event. There areslices of youthful abandon, loving memories and bitter regrets thathave rooted themselves in, and make the sting of passing even greater.It's the challenge to look back, to leave those thoughts behind,fearful yet hopeful, uncertain yet faithful, and embrace the totalityof it all. The Willard Grant Conspiracy explores these subjects with aversatile troupe of players, attacking their pieces with such a collageof instrumentation and tender arrangement, the songs bud and bloomright before your eyes. Somber acoustic guitar anchors the gruff,weathered vocals of singer Robert Fisher, the centerpiece of anensemble that offers dense, soaring trumpets and weary viola moans. Theheavy lineup grants Regard the End remarkable impact, allowingevery intonation and accent creep across and drive the emotion home.The opening song, "River in the Pines," is a civil war era ballad thatrambles on in a smoky, smoldering mass, crackling and waiting to popopen in a fiery burst. The mix of both traditional folk songs andoriginal works allows for personal expression and insight as well as amuch wider concept of the subject matter through time. A particularstrength of the Willard Grant Conspiracy, along with the utilization oftheir individual parts is the use of guest singers to help add to theatmosphere of their songs. Kristin Hersh appears on "The Ghost of theGirl in the Well," with an eerie contribution to the tale of a murderedyoung girl. She and fisher share the words and their pacing sets theentire scene in slow motion, drawing every last bit of feeling andpower from the disturbing imagery. Hersh's echoing, distant wails areaffecting as they sink into the depths of the music. Singer Jess Kleinalso contributes a set of stunning vocal performances on "The Trials ofHarrison Hayes," and several other songs. These additions strengthenthe already powerful punch in the Conspiracy's music. "The SufferingSong" is the emotional crux of Regard the End, with Fisher andKlein finding themselves on the edge and greeting the uncertainty ofwhat's beyond it with the certainty of what is there. "Suffering'sgonna come to everyone, someday." There is a restrained grace in theirvoices that makes the end of the journey feel less like a defeat andmore like a triumph. The ability to find strength and composure throughsorrow and adversity shines through and closes the album on a gloriousnote.
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Sitting down to listen to this disc for the first time, I figured that I was going to get something along the lines of Loveman Plays Psychedelic Swing(three-fourths of Emergency! is also in the Quintet, the discs wererecorded nine months apart, etc.), and instead, I got a trip back toGround-Zero's Plays Standards, courtesy of, of all things,Kikuchi Naruyoshi's sax playing. Seven very long and productive yearsago, it grated on my nerves with its schmaltzy tenor intensity, and itstill does, only now it's rounded out by another guy on alto andsoprano. Thankfully, just when the two of them threaten to drag theshoulder-scrunching out a bit too long on "Song for Che", they'reslapped aside by the wailing guitar and thudding drums of Otomo's own"Reducing Agent" in one of the most welcome transitions I've heard inmonths. The original tunes aren't especially brilliant, and they lackeasy hooks that they can be identified by, but they also give the albumand ensemble the feeling of being defined by more than just somebody'srecord collection. Similarly, while I'm not wild about Sachiko M'scontribution of sine waves to a Mingus tune, her involvement in thelast two tracks clearly shows off how her repertoire has grown sinceher sample-triggering days. (Mind you, any one of two dozen otherrecordings from the last couple of years would do this just as well.)Yoshigaki Yasuhiro's drumming leans towards the energetic and heavymost of the time, but it's never distracting, and it's even downrightpretty when he scales it back to brushed cymbals. Aside from the saxbits that get my hackles up, then, this is the kind of revisitingproject that I wish more artists would tackle: instead of just remixingtwenty-year-old tapes and grinding out some 12"s for the hell of it,ONJQ have gone back to old notions and produced an album that reflectshow they've changed as musicians. If we're lucky, things will be justas fresh in 2011.
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Mars has always been my favorite of the four No New Yorkbands because their music sounds consistently on the verge of collapse.While fellow scenesters DNA share a similar spastic approach, there canbe no denying that Mars helped take the noisier, amateurish tendenciesof the genre to their logical extremes, becoming one of the first andmost important groups to create noise music under rockist pretence.Whereas the particular "style" or modus operandi of cohorts like TheJerks and The Contortions are now somewhat easy to pinpoint, Marsremains as pleasantly enigmatic as they ever were, no doubt becausethere was never much of a guiding force behind their work in the firstplace. The catchy, almost generically post-punk grooves laid down onthe band's first single ("3-E" b/w "11,000 Volts") mask the fact thatmost of the members started learning their instruments at the firstpractice, if that early. Even so, the Martian melting pot,though widely mimicked, is a unique and matchless brew, thanks to theband's method for combining disparate melodic or rhythmic lines,creating within each song a struggle for dominance that, instead ofbringing the music to a standstill, creates a kind of perpetualroll-over and an indirect, multi-layered, even schizophrenic sound. Theresults range from distorted, Beefheart-ian call-and-response freakoutsto near-impenetrable tapestries of noise that writhe with the burden oftheir incompatible elements but maintain a thrilling, if precariousbalance. It was no doubt this chaotic, storm-like quality of the Marssound that prompted Jim "Feotus" Thirwell to lend his production skillsto the band's first archival release, 78+. Thirwell's mixemphasizes the music's quasi-industrial elements and its low-end,making the swirling atmospherics and more abrasive undercurrents ofmany tracks more prominent. Though his approach was admirable, andespecially effective on the several live tracks included, the band wasunsatisfied, and decided to put out a remixed, re-sequenced CD,including only their 11-song studio output and modeled to appear as aMars LP would have, had they released it over 20 years ago. The new mixsounds great and gives the songs a punch quietly lacking on 78+and even a bit on Eno's original mixes. The frenetic tumble of thesongs keeps its form, and a new crispness makes the music sound as wildas ever. The limited track list leaves out only three tracks from 78+'snear-complete collection, and this disc honestly feels like thefull-length that should have been. It's nice to see music this goodgetting the treatment and presentation it deserves.
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