- Abe Forman-Greenwald
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"Fantastic Damage" is a perfect description for this album of denselylayered beats that serve as a soundtrack for El-P's tour through adystopian urbanscape. Almost every beat on the album is so rich andevocative it seems a shame that El-P has to bark over almost every oneof them. Some of his lyrical concepts work well, as on the track"Stepfather Factory" where he effectively constructs and deconstructs acompany that churns out indistinguishable, abusive father figures. Thisis one of the few tracks where he takes his vocals down to aconversational level and it works really well. On too much of the albumthough, his vocals come off as monotonous yelling which undermines thepower of his intelligent lyrics. El-P has an uncommon problem for anMC—so much he needs to say that he is unable to fit all of his lyricsinto his allotted lines of verse. This problem of too many words to goaround is particularly noticeable on the verses of "Truancy". When heslows the rhymes down during the chorus, each lyric becomes more potentand fits well into the rhythm. He also uses an interesting approach atthe beginning of "Dead Disnee" where he adjusts his cadence and rhymescheme to mimic that of the early De La Soul single "Plug Tunin'".While paying respect to an earlier, more creative era of hip-hop, healso demonstrates how a varied rhyme style can compliment a song.Unfortunately, the rest of the song falls into his same abrasivelymonotonous pattern. Most of the album's lyrical content falls into the"conscious lyrics" category—which makes some of the slips into standardhip-hop homophobia all the more frustrating.
But all M.C. criticism aside, the beats are consistently varied and noloop is repeated long enough to wear out its welcome. El-P shows hisstrongest talent lies in production by introducing many experimentalsounds and effects rarely added to the hip-hop mix. He uses lots ofdistorted synths and electric guitar samples and mixes them overprogrammed, organic sounding drums to head-nodding affect. My favoritemoments in the album all occur when he turns off the vocals for astretch and lets his instrumentals shine. DJ Abilities compliments thelayered beats successfully by adding texture without showing off hisspeed. His best contribution is in the middle of "Delorian" where heuses his scratches as one of the instruments in the band rather than asa solo spotlight.
I will certainly be looking out for a future version of "FantasticDamage" instrumentals because the beats are innovative and I would liketo hear how each one sounds on its own. If you can get through 70minutes worth of severe vocals, the album does go out on one of itsstrongest notes with the grandly cinematic final track, "Blood". And besure to listen for that tight instrumental at the end that kicks intohigh gear after the vocals have faded away.
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Published as a limited CD-R to be sold at their recent European appearances, Coil's latest EP is a beautiful and stunning piece of work. It consists of a nearly 20 minute instrumental piece in two versions—a "prepared" improvisation with their current tour lineup: Michael York on breton pipes, Cliff Stapleton on hurdy gurdy and a subtle, percussive groove underlayed by various electronic devices of Mr's. Balance, Christopherson and Norris. The main feeling this recording conjures up for me is one of an un-experienced nostalgia—like an unsure longing for life during an ancient time.
Danny Hyde returns to Coil's mixing desk to collaborate on "Remote Viewing 3" and the interlude, "Remote Viewing 2," which seems to be constructed mainly out of parts of the original recording session with added and altered sounds and vocal snippets. "2" works perfectly as a bridge between the two lengthy parts when listened in one go, but doesn't stand out as a strong piece when singled out. Coil have easily managed to surpass any expectations and leave me anticipating the next 'proper' release. It would be a loss, however, if the music on this release wasn't reissued in another form for more to hear.
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Chris Brokaw should be familiar as guitarist from Come and Pullman and drummer for the New Year, Codeine and Consonant, not to mention all the other groups and collectives he's been playing out with recently - check out www.chrisbrokaw.com for the lowdown. And if his name isn't familiar then you have got some serious record buying to do! 'Red Cities' is his first solo album following a split single with Spanish band Viva Las Vegas.
Chris played everything (guitar and percussion) on these atmospheric instrumentals. There's a western-noir feel to most of it and the most effective tracks build in emotional intensity just like Come, every note heavy with mysterious longing and deep enough to flip your stomach over. After a short intro, the longest track "The Fields (Part II)" takes a trip deep into the city night where events are unfolding outside the upstairs window, each note delivering ever more irreversible immanence. Chris really knows how to pack a sledge full of raw emotion into every note, and this is a stunningly dense dark cinematic ride. Only lighter track is the more playful "Topsfield State Fair," which perhaps skirts closer to Pullman campfire folkiness than the deeper Come shadows the rest of the album so satisfyingly evokes. I'm not sure if the title of the album was in any way inspired by the W.S. Burroughs classic 'Cities of the Red Night' but if anyone was ever ambitious enough to try to make a film of that book, this would make a perfect soundtrack.
 
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Deviating from their usual medium of on-demand CD-Rs, the Burning Shedonline label debuts their first Red Book disc in a good old fashionedjewel case. Peter Chilvers (Alias Grace) and Tim Bowness (No-Man,Centrozoon) also collaborate in Samuel Smiles and Henry Fool.'California, Norfolk' is a sort of extension of the former's 'World OfBright Futures' album, the title track in particular. Bowness'ruminations on lost love and fading memories are fairly simple, but hisrich tone and breathy delivery brings the inherent sadness and mutedjoys within them to life. The vocals are very forward in the mix butdeftly framed by minor beats, sampled auras and tender piano, keyboard,guitar and bass melodies and textures. It's beautifully stark - partballadry, part ambient, part soundscape - think of Nick Drake's 'PinkMoon' spirit as processed by Brian Eno. It's strange how quickly thisalbum floats by despite its 45 minute running time. And although goodbeginning to end and back again, "Hostage" and "Winter With You" are mypersonal favorites. For the former, sweeping orchestral synth andbackground giggling help tell the short story of "the girl you neverforgot, was never happy with her lot ... walked around a hostage to herfright". And in the latter, the crunch of trodden snow drifts in andout of its 10 plus minutes. Chilvers subtlety steals the limelight bybreaking up an instrumental passage with a delicate piano refrain.'California, Norfolk' is another great addition to the ever growingChilvers and Bowness related pile.
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Oh, how far the Lambchop has come. This Nashville-based band, oncebelieved to be another alt-country creation, has created a fine summeralbum for you to listen to on those hot days when you just want to siton your porch and sip some lemonade. Except that it really doesn'tbelong in that setting. The country is further away from their soundnow than it's ever been. "Is a Woman" is actually a fine neo-loungetype album, where singer and main songwriter Kurt Wagner has embracedthe piano as the main instrument. His voice hasn't changed, still likea higher pitched Leonard Cohen blended with Belle and Sebastian'sStuart Murdoch. This is lazy music, where you can listen without anyreal commitment or strain. Even the song titles evoke summer -"Caterpillar," "Bugs," "The Old Matchbook Trick," and "The New CobwebSummer," for example - and the lyrics tell tales of old friends, dogs,and the mischief of youth. Lambchop is born anew in this sound, asthere's more energy in this release, more groove, more feeling, andmore beauty than they've ever produced. Pretty amazing considering thatthe majority of songs are over the five-minute mark and of a slowertemp. Wagner's lyrics conjure fantastic images - "Once I had afriend/who had the knack of tossing/his mind around geography/boy youthink you have problems?/The hunter is asleep/at least that's what Icall him" on "The New Cobweb of Summer" - and the instumentation isplayful with gently strummed guitar, faded organ, and flashes of hornshere and there joining the piano. The only complaint is that it's not a"whole listen" record. I cannot, after listening to it once, listen toit straight through again. It causes the sound to be near montonous, aseach song has a similar structure. Perhaps that's actually a backhandedcompliment, however. It's a complete work, and if you allow it to, itwill suck you in. Lambchop sound like this is finally fun for them, andthe listener is encouraged to join the festivities. What are youwaiting for? Let's go catch some lightning bugs...
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Yves Beupré beavers away in his workshop building a hundred harpsichords. As he hammers and strings and flexes the things he records the sounds of the instruments' birth pangs. Lucky for our ears, he stitches the recordings into acousmatic soundscapes that are mysterious, evocative and plain beautiful.
Any clot who thinks electroacoustic music has become irredeemably entrenched in the same old gestures and routines should open their ears to this stunning debut from a composer possessed of genius who is going to have a (sur)real challenge surpassing such a masterpiece. This is a richly transporting transparent journey into the guts of the creation process. Images pour from the darkened room into the minds eye of wood and varnish and nails and strings swirling about in a void and accreting magically into a heavenly harpsichord which looms ever larger as I shrink to dust mote size. Boxed inside the vintage contraption, rhythmic structures unfold and coalesce and drone visions of eighteenth century time locks emerge. Historic and modern worlds collide in the computer as small planks become dense forests. And all this without the aid of hallucinogens!
 
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And I still have chills up and down my spine over this one. NinaNastasia makes music that compromises nothing. It is aggressive in itspursuit of your soul, it is passionate in its creation, it isunforgiving and somewhat brutal. But it is rather lovely. This is musicthat combines the hoedowns of the early part of the 20th century withelements of a modern rock orchestra, a little Dylan influence, and allpiped through the voice of a true chanteuse. Nastasia's voice is clear,distinct, gorgeous. With a basis of acoustic guitar and her voice,there's nowhere to go but up. And it certainly does, with littleholding it back. Steel guitar haunts the tracks in places, gentle andcompetent drumming providing a solid backbone. The strings soar, withcello and viola vying for attention, but never outdoing one another.There's even accordion, which adds atmosphere as well as anauthenticity that cannot be denied. Things move along at a nice pace,with occasional jarring moments that could easily give you a heartattack - the moment on the first track, 'Run, All You...', where thefull band comes in almost killed me. And ultimately, everything seemsto be destined to remain in your dreams and nightmares for years tocome. Luckily, Nastasia's lyrics are those of a poet, so these songsalso have a lot to say without sounding highfalutin or cheap. Theycreate the backdrop of a barren wasteland, a dirt town where none areforgiven for their transgressions, and suffering is king. "Someone toldme that I should visit you in the graveyard/pull out all the weeds; butI'm still lonely and I'm not ready/You scared me when you hid behindthe trees" says it all, and that's just one example. Most songs lastaround two minutes, and normally I'd feel cheated. Sometimes here, Istill do, wanting the songs to continue. But who knows what mighthappen then? It might get old, lose it's lustre. It might changedirection, morph into something else. But it's best just as NinaNastasia left it. Trust her: she knows what she's doing.
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According to the liner notes, Brombron is "a joint project by extrapooland staalplaat and receives financial support from mondriaanstichting." Quite what all that means, I don't know, but apparently theboys got some studio time to work on this record specifically. And itwas money well spent for their patrons because this is an excellentexposition of the more musical end of microsound-style laptopcomposition, a subgenre put decisively on the map by ChristianFennesz's low-bitrate eye-opener 'Endless Summer.'
As on Mathieu's equally pleasing 'frequencyLib' album, much of thealbum is about processing samples from hinted-at sources and givingthem a new identity, but there's also nice use of a field recording andoutright, er, covers, you might say. Unlike many records in themicrosound genre, no harsh noise pieces are found here. Instead thereare thirteen subtle tracks, starting with the straightfireworks-field-recording-and-organ of "New Years Eve". (Clearly JimO'Rourke didn't exhaust the potential of recorded fireworks on GastrDel Sol's 'Camofleur'.)
Other highlights are the processed warble of "Turkey Song"—a revivalisttake on Peanuts which clearly influenced the soundtrack picks in 'TheRoyal Tenenbaums', and which, along with "Vinnie's Theme", punctuatesthe album with a sense of humour. A further bonus is the special cardpackaging, unique to the Brombron series, which holds the CD in placewithout a spot of plastic, glue, or even one of those annoying Mort AuxVaches fold-out clips. The record's been out the best part of a year,and is apparently limited, so seek out a copy while you can.
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It sounds like a joke for indie music hipsters: what do you get whenyou mix The Melvins, Fantomas and a crowd for a live show? This liverecording from December 31st, 2000 is the best answer, and it's notbad. Despite the fact that all seven musicians from the two bands arecredited, the songs don't often demand that all of them bang away atonce, but when the all of them come down and pound the music out, theydo a really good job of staying out of each other's way and keeping therecording relatively unmuddled. For the most part, Patton does thevocals, although Melvins' Dale Crover and King Buzzo are also creditedwith vocals. A lot of the music sounds -- not surprisingly -- like amelding between the recent Melvins' buzzing sludginess and the moreethereal moments of Fantomas' vignettes. If you've heard the recentofferings from Melvins or fantomas, there's no big surprises here, justmore quality noise. Some pieces are clearly derived from one or theother groups (Fantomas' cover of the themes from the films "The Omen"and "Cape Fear" or "Ol' Black Stooges" an assaulting drum jam whichappears in a much more abbreviated form on the Melvins' new album Hostile Ambient Takeover"as that album's opener.) A few pieces and moments throughout can beisolated to one musician -- like Patton's signature squeals and screamsfrom Fantomas' albums, or Dunn's bass pluckings in "Terpulative Guns& Drugs", but in general, the music and musicians complement eachother well enough that it stops being about one or the other andbecomes an entity in it's own right. Some of the more ambient noisepieces remind me nothing so much as the early noise of Nurse WithWound, and "Skin Horse" features a hysterical Ween-esque vocal linethat's a real treat, but not representative of the rest of the album.So if you're a fan of NWW's older noise pieces or a fan of eitherFantomas or the Melvins' recent output, you shouldn't be disappointedwith this 40 minute set (even if it isn't the full show,) from theMelvins and Fantomas.
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After the brief 30-second drum intro of "black stooges", Melvins' new album starts off with a barrage of guitar riffing and drum accents on the untitled second track. The title of this record is a bit misleading especially if you're a stoned raver, since it's not what people usually mean when they say "ambient" nowawadays: don't expect any soothing synth pads or mellow chill-out beats, the key word in the title is "Hostile" not "Ambient".Ipecac
The majority of the tracks seem to have more of a precision riffing than the grinding assaults that the Melvins have been known for in the past, like the almost rockabilly "Dr. Geek". At moments the guitar and bass staccatto unison riffs recall nothing so much as a really slowed down, more menacing and brutish Black Sabbath ("foaming") and other times the wailing screech of guitars slowly segueing into a slow repeated riff gives the vocals an added menace before a brief jaunt into some perverted disco ("the fool, the meddling idiot" which ends with a reprise of the opening "black stooges"). The grand finale is the fantastic 15-minute album closer, "the anti-vermin seed" which has some electronic noises (courtesy of Tool's Adam Jones, who also collaborated on the Melvins' previous effort, Collusus of Destiny,) blended along side the precise, plodding riffing and often sparse sonic landscape laid down by drummer Dale Crover and bassist Kevin Rutmanis, which justifies the 'ambient' part of the title. The result is a suitably dark ending to a dark album. The bright contrasting colors of the album art and cover aside, this is a beautifully dark album. If dark slow pounding sounds good to you, so will this album.
 
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A Small Good Thing have unveiled the follow up to an 'imaginarysoundtrack' for a movie we're supposed to run in our heads for theadventurous benefit of fictional outlaw Gerry Melody. Not having heardthe first part, originally released in 1994, I can't compare, but ifyou rush out and buy the limited edition it's included as a double CDor triple album. 'Slim Westerns' are very much in a spaghetti style andalthough there's a relaxing dust swept ambience and some good ol'cowboy guitar twang that Calexico might be at home with, a certainBritishness peaks through and mars the illusion. Dogs barking on thelast track just sound like English dogs (not the old 'punk' band) andthe repeated vocal refrain, "Hey Mister, is this train headin' south?"sounds so put on and false it muddies up the widescreen desert feel themusic effectively evokes. These are perhaps minor quibbles with anotherwise enjoyable but inessential recording that mixes up slow dustyguitar twang with creeping dusk ambience. May this trio of former OYuki Conjugaters sleep well undisturbed by English dogs (punk orcanine).
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