Collecting most of the 12" tracks from the past 3 years, Rhythm &Sound's s/t CD is the first since 98's Burial Mix collection"Showcase". Unlike that disc, which featured the vocals of Tikimanthroughout, this disc is primarily instrumental save for 1 track.Rhythm & Sound are part of the Berlin based contingent of minimalelectronic music makers, their specialty being lazy dub in varyingdegrees of fuzziness. Repetition is key as a limited palette ofbass/beats are treated with an equally limited palette of dub effectsfrom 6 to 17 minutes apiece. One thing's for sure - you need to be afan of the sound to be able to sit through the entire 80 minutes.Fortunately, the tempos and arrangements are varied enough to maintainmy interest. "Smile" features the heavily accented spoken words ofSavage which is fine but not as engrossing as Tikiman's more melodicsinging. "Mango Drive" and "Outward" are the most likely ones toconvince you to get up off the couch and move a little while the restare better suited for a ganja coma. Good stuff, but I prefer Rhythm& Sound's sound as a vehicle for Jamaican vocalists.
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The Oakland California trio Replicator ignite their debut album with an instrumental that puts the rock into rocket. Slow burn smouldering dual note guitar atmospherics soon zoom boldly skyward with big brash jettison chords that'd make Trans Am's Red Line go green. For the next six songs they twist and turn through angular song forms with clipped vocals which couple melodic hooks with a complexity which is forceful but never forced. The hard hitting precision production from Shellac bassist Bob Weston gives equal weight to every aspect of Replicator's sound, and might just get them a few more Shellac comparisons than they otherwise would get, but they are definite fans of that band and at times employ similarly dynamic song structures.
I've mostly lost faith in the whole Ant-Zen/Hands thing. Recently,though, two albums were released that nearly restored my entire faithin the style of music as a whole: Azure Skies (reviewed last week) andTarmvred's "Subfusc."
This little 3" CD from the Hot Air label, with it's quaint pictures ofIndonesian women wearing old hats of the fifties, has been caughtmasquerading as a reissue of a rare tape classic which was supposedlyoriginally only released in South East Asia on the Kesenian label in1982. If the sleeve notes are to be believed, which they're not, thenObeng Ungu and Jalan Buntu not only paid musical tribute to the bravehat wearing women of Sumatra, who risked internment and publicexecution for embracing fashions from outside their culture, but werethemselves the victims of cultural reappropriation. Their 1981recordings of sessions at the Daging Dingin Candi, beating theirgambangs and rubbing their metallophones, were ahead of their time.They were so ahead of their time that their odd combo which soundedlike it had it's pot gongs, cuks, caks and sekelengs mixed down on alaptop, that Salford duo Stock, Hausen & Walkman ripped them offwilly nilly for their "Organ Transplants". Well, old John Peel of RadioOne was fooled. Admittedly, it probably doesn't take much to fool MrPeel, but surely the picture of the 'Public parading of condemned hatwearers' ought to give the game away if the music itself didn't?Strangely Matt Wand, who has been indulging in works of fiction, hashad emails from people with faulty memories congratulating him onreissuing such a mythic recording. I told Matt that the twelve shorttracks with silly long titles made me think of truncated "OrganTransplants" done with ethnic percussion and tropical croaking samples.Matt laughed and told me to fuck off.
Having previously pumped up the sounds of surgically enhancedflatulence for a Hot Air 7", the diagnostic sound recording services ofDoctors Stahlgren and Ferguson were in demand. Their biggest job todate was the big Omag Magnetizing bank scam. They were hired to recordall the whistles, creaks, rattles, wirrings and splutterings made bythe printing, magnetizing, sorting and reading processes that digestcheques travelling through the swollen world banking gut. Their bigmoney diagnosis remains a mystery, but some of the magnetic printingsounds have been hacked, chopped, thoughtfully rearranged and evengiven the odd punchline here and there by their creator Matt Wand. Forthis dose of Hot Air he's been wearing his electroacoustic hat. Shortspells of calm droning are followed by quick collaged crescendos andwhilst it all seems quite condensed, there's nothing to stop a secondlisten. Perhaps the beauty of the 3" CD format is brevity, but I couldhappily listen to more of this, as Matt does electroacoustic laptoppingwell and leaps and hobbles adventurously into more abstractsoundscaping than on the comparatively safe but cheerful Ungu Buntu 3".I'm particularly floored by the big mangled mash up peaks of the 'DeadThixotropic Duct Roller', but can just as happily dust the speakersdown with the eerie hum wobbling of 'Anti-set-off Powder'. Now wheredid I leave that 'Shrinking Disinclination Loop'? 
Based on my first encounters with Ambarchi’s work, I have always associated him with the abstract, post-rock tinged world of experimental guitar noise and drone. However, following up his recent Audience of One album, this album continues his transition into more "song" oriented work, and brilliantly so. Simple, but hypnotic in its execution, it a taut, dramatic 30-plus minute single track that grabbed my attention immediately and has stood up strongly ever since.
Much ado has been made about its two hour duration, and Michael Gira's assertion that The Seer represents the culmination of the entire Swans discography, which is not to be disregarded. From the monolithic, visceral guitar stabs, to the dark, folk hued melodies, and dissonant, deconstructed samples and loops, it all appears here, sometimes within the same song. Thankfully, it does not come across as a conclusion, but the culmination and self-actualization of a long, unparalleled career.
Currently only available as limited edition CD-R (though there are plans for a regular CD/vinyl release soon), these three soundtracks for short films of Derek Jarman have provided Stephen Thrower and Ossian Brown plenty of inspiration following their superb album Wounded Galaxies Tap at the Window of last year. Some of the same textures and moods are revisited but it is already possible to hear that Cyclobe are developing creatively at an unprecedented rate. Between Wounded Galaxies… and this, they have completely met, exceeded, and destroyed any expectations I may have had of them.
This is easily one of the most intriguing and enigmatic debuts to surface this year, as two musicians that I am completely unfamiliar with (Daniel Lea and Matthew Waters) have managed to assemble a killer noir jazz ensemble and enlist collaborators as impressive as Ben Frost and David Sylvian. Although they draw their inspiration from a wide array of disciplines (Gerhard Richter and Paul Auster are influences), the resultant music is extremely narrow in scope (or, more charitably, "focused" and "thematically coherent"). Night Within is essentially all brooding nocturnal atmosphere and texture with little in the way of songcraft, but Land are almost so good at what they do that it does not matter.
I have seen this album described elsewhere as "virtually a new Monos record" due to the participants, but Tate's latest effort is a bit more modest than that.  Originally recorded as a guitar and synth solo album, Darren handed his work over to the very capable Colin Potter for a thorough "re-imagining."  I can only guess at what No Longer Here sounded like before Potter's involvement (the droniest drone ever?), but the end result is 45 minutes of beautifully immersive and darkly hallucinatory bliss.
Equal doses of Hell’s Angels, bad drugs, and Russ Meyer; Clayton Burgess' downer biker metal hits the spot like a tire iron across the jaw. More The Born Losers than Sons of Anarchy, Satan's Satyrs deserve the term badass as much as any b-movie anti-hero. This is music that has come to town, decided it wants your girl and she has decided she prefers them to you.
Having recently put out a double disc package with Anthony Pasquarosa, and another collaboration with Noise Nomads, the Albany, New York area noise master Mike Griffin has managed to compile yet another set of spacey, at times aggressive, but always fascinating abstract electronics. The first is a full vinyl LP of solo work, courtesy of the always amazing Sedimental label, and the second a collaborative release with meme slinger John Olson. Griffin’s style is consistent between the two work, but the differing contexts give each a unique and distinct feel, differing from one another.
Scrine is one of the earlier works from Hands To, the name solo artist Jeph Jerman was working with at the time. With the project's first release just a year before in 1987, he was already a seasoned practitioner in the mid to late 1980s noise cassette scene. Even at this stage his work was highly conceptual, using his environment as a primary source for his compositions. Compared to his later works under his own name, however, there is a major emphasis on the sounds of urban and suburban environments, and a raw, rough edge that summarizes that era of noise perfectly.
Dead Can Dance released a string of unique and wonderful albums during their prime, but I absolutely loathed 1996's Spiritchaser, so their break-up in its wake seemed like a fine artistic decision to me.  I never expected them to ever record new material again, as Lisa Gerrard seemed to be doing quite well on her own as a soundtrack composer and lives on a completely different continent than the comparatively dormant Brendan Perry, and yet...here we are.  As I expected, the reunited duo do not quite recapture the magic of classics like The Serpent's Egg, but there are still some glimpses of it amidst this oft-perplexing effort.
It has been an atypically quiet year for Barn Owl, but Jon Porras and Evan Caminiti have filled the void somewhat with major solo albums every bit as good as their main gig.  While Porras' Black Mesa heavily favored the band's lonely desert rock side, Caminiti's deceptively titled Dreamless Sleep takes a dreamier, dronier approach.  While its shimmering bliss sometimes lacks distinctiveness, Evan does a wonderful job balancing his ambient tendencies with healthy doses of tape hiss, unpredictability, and artfully controlled guitar squall.
This debut full-length from the Berlin-based Ekomane shares a lot of conceptual common ground with Caterina Barbieri (one of Important's previous break-out sensations), though the two artists have radically different approaches to composition. For example, both artists are quite enamored with using slow shifts in repeating patterns to wonderfully hypnotic and near-psychotropic effect. Ekomane, however, largely eschews hooks or anything resembling conventional songcraft in favor of a visceral, slow-motion onslaught of phase-shifting fragments in immersive quadraphonic sound. Given that focus on intensity and psychoacoustic sorcery, I am not sure that this live document from 2018's Ars Electronica festival quite captures Ekomane at the peak of her powers, but the opening "Solid of Revolution" is certainly a beguiling introduction to Ekomane's distinctive aesthetic.
The Opalio brothers close an exceptionally productive year with this third and final release of 2019. I suppose just about every My Cat is an Alien release could be described as a live album, given the duo's devotion to "spontaneous composition," but this one is live in the traditional sense: it was performed in front of an actual audience. More specifically, it is a document of a 20th anniversary concert that the brothers gave in their hometown of Torino back in 2018. As befits such an auspicious occasion, the Opalios were joined by a pair of their favorite collaborators: Lee Ranaldo and French composer/guitarist Jean-Marc Montera. Needless to say, it is always fascinating to see what transpires when unpredictable outside elements are invited into Maurizio and Roberto's shared consciousness and this release is no exception, as the quartet gradually wind their way into some truly uncharted frontiers in mind-melting, cosmic psychedelia.
