Compiling songs from various self-released cassettes, Selected Works I: Still Suns features a selection of Christian Dubé's work from between 2008 and 2011. Working heavily with cheap and damaged equipment, Rei Rea’s sound seems steeped most heavily in the noise world, with some more rhythmic elements slipping in to keep things original in an overpopulated genre.

Well, I can honestly say that I have never heard another album quite like this one and I presumably never will again, as Soak is an extremely deranged and over-the-top effort—even by Foetus' inflated standards.  That does not necessarily mean that I like it, but I cannot help but admire its complexity, variety, epic scope, and sheer operatic bombast.  In fact, I am quite sure that potential likability was the furthest thing from Thirlwell's mind during these recordings, as Soak resembles nothing less than a mad genius with seemingly unlimited imagination, time, and resources concocting the most kaleidoscopic lunacy possible simply because he can.  We get to hear it, but this is clearly an album that Thirlwell made with himself as the target audience.

This 1992 double LP has historically been regarded to be The Dead C's zenith, though contention for that particular honor has gotten quite a bit more crowded with some of their more recent efforts.  In any case, there are certainly a few excellent songs and flashes of outsider brilliance amidst all the stumbling, shambling chaos and gleefully deliberate self-sabotage.  The flaws are a large part of the charm though–lots of people write good songs, but no one else has maintained this degree of playful, yet unwavering insouciance for quite as long as this New Zealand trio has (nor would they presumably want to).  That inexplicable persistence is its own artistic triumph though and this album is the most towering monument to it.

An album with a name like Piano Nights immediately calls to mind a dour and downtrodden moment in a group's catalog. Bohren & Der Club Of Gore, however, thrive in the long and patient spaces between beats, where they eke out a brooding stagnant blend of drone and jazz, so melancholy is not exactly a new mood for them to explore. Strangely enough though, Piano Nights is probably more cathartic than their usual material. They make purgatory lounge music this time, as opposed to waltzing around in hell itself.

Fans and detractors alike would probably agree that a defining characteristic of Mogwai's last few records has been the symbolic spinning of wheels. It is disappointing, then, that the band would deem the best course of action is to frame the spinning wheels as a deliberate move to concretize a style and not the lack of inspiration everyone knows it to be. Rave Tapes was promoted as having an abundance of electronic instrumentation, but that is a disingenuous move, both because it is neither a new element nor is it nearly as prominent as it is suggested. Rather, it is the only distinguishing feature of a release interred in its own indifference.

When Keiji Haino reignited the fires at the center of Fushitsusha that had lain dormant for about a decade, it was inevitable that a change of focus would occur in the group’s music. Two albums recorded for Heartfast in 2012 saw the gaping chasms of noisy rock dropped for something more angular and rhythmically challenging. A third album was promised but, Haino being Haino, this has expanded the series further to become a tetralogy with these two releases.

Even though Turman began his music career in the early 1970s and co-founded NON with Boyd Rice, he has not been as prolific, nor has he garnered the same accolades as many of his contemporaries have. Recent collaborations with the likes of Jandek and Aaron Dilloway have lead to a resurgence of interest, and Beyond Painting is one of the products of this rediscovery. Presented here as a luxurious double LP reissue of a self-released CDR, Turman's work is given the recognition it deserves.

As one of the preeminent psychedelic rock/electro acoustic super groups in the Upstate New York/Massachusetts area, Twilight of the Century have not been overly prolific amongst their many related projects, with this tape representing their first actual release since their founding in 2008. The rock half, Eric Hardiman and Ray Hare, make up Century Plants and have a slew of solo guises, while the more avant garde experimentalism is the work of Mike Bullock and Linda Aubry Bullock, who largely work under their own names and as Rise, Set, Twilight. Hibernation captures the quartet carefully balancing those more aggressive, guitar focused tendencies with the subtle use of electronics wonderfully.

For some reason, there was a brief period in my life a while back in which every single person who learned of my early Red House Painters obsession immediately responded with some variation of "You know who else you would love? Tara Jane O'Neil."  At the time, I did not think the two artists had much in common at all, aside from the superficial traits of being both slow and melancholy, but I have always enjoyed hearing O'Neil whenever she resurfaces.  This time, after a five year solo album hiatus, she has resurfaced on Kranky–the perfect home for someone who sounds like Grouper's more sophisticated older sister.

Listening to this EP is like being run over by a goddamn tank. Ren Schofield was one of the first harsh noise artists to take his cacophony to the dance floor and–along with Pete Swanson–he remains one of the best.  In fact, this, his first release for Mute's experimental music imprint, might be one of the finest Container releases to date.  While no dramatic evolution has taken place, aside from slightly more simple and accessible grooves, Adhesive is a perfectly distilled dose of relentless, pummeling noise-damaged techno from start to finish.

Originally released as an extremely limited LP on Savoury Days and recently reissued by Luke Younger's Alter imprint, this Southeast England band's second album was one of 2013's most criminally overlooked releases.  Combining post-punk deconstructionism, heavy industrial textures, and a strong bent for collage/improvisation, this enigmatic ensemble is a welcome addition to the beloved pantheon of hard-to-define, fringe-dwelling British weirdos like Zoviet France, Throbbing Gristle, and This Heat.

There has been an avalanche of fine dispatches from Eliane Radigue's voluminous vault in recent years, which both pleases and overwhelms me, as I want to hear them all and cannot hope to keep up.  Adnos is one of the latest of those great albums and offers the added appeal of being a major, decade-spanning, formative work as well.  Originally composed between 1973 and 1980, these three lengthy pieces are stylistic precursors to Radigue's minimal drone epicTrilogie de la Morte (widely regarded to be her masterpiece). While Adnos is not quite on the same level as its similarly ambitious successor, it certainly comes damn close.

This reissue offers the chance to hear another obscurity from the NWW list. With perfect backing, Vian plays synths, sequencer and piano, to create an exotic, space-age soundtrack that is quite distinct from his more raucous music with Red Noise.

I know I am not the only person who has caught himself in a public situation hearing some sort of malfunctioning machinery and thought it would have sounded great on record. Obviously not, because it is that concept specifically that defines Blake Edwards' newest album, a gorgeous picture disc with accompanying CD-R of related material. It is his careful mixing and understated processing that make this shine, however.

Under his Pinkcourtesyphone guise, Richard Chartier has found a way to inject a bit of levity and humor into his otherwise serious and formal electronic compositions. These two recent releases reiterate this, but also present an evolution in PCP’s sound, from avant garde electronics to traditional and rhythmic works that have recognizable points of reference, but still stand as entirely unique in this often crowded genre.

After amplifying their homes and magnifying the subconscious; after reshaping kitchenware into instruments and finding voices in the buzz of computer fans, distant traffic, and the crunch of dirt; after transforming the spaces around them and constructing a space-time of their own, Graham Lambkin and Jason Lescalleet finally turn the microphones on themselves. And not just on the noises they make, but on the places they grew up, on the people they've known, on the ideas that have driven their work, the sounds they love, and ultimately on the past and their memories. Don't come to the show expecting self-portraits though. On Photographs Graham and Jason make enigmas of themselves. We get to see a shadow of them in these pictures, but everything they do and every event they capture points to a subject somewhere outside the frame.

At first glance, Katie Gately has a hell of a lot in common with Holly Herndon: both are CA-based and use the voice as their primary instrument and both debuted to international acclaim while still attending college.  The similarities end there, however, as Gately's latest work displays a strong pop sensibility and talent for hooks that was not especially apparent on her significantly more unhinged and abstract cassette from earlier in the year (Pipes).  While I still do not think her aesthetic is fully developed, her combination of heavily grinding and crunching field recordings and lush vocal loops is nevertheless quite promising and unusual.

A strange spectacle murmurs unceremoniously just beneath the familiar hum of daily life. It's filled with little dramas and peculiar collisions that sneak by unnoticed—in the empty spaces of the room, out of the corner of your eye—small bits of information slip through the senses' fingers and fall into the subconscious where they become fodder for dreams. These unremembered fragments are a part of every environment and every observation, but would we recognize them if given a second chance? On Air Supply, Graham Lambkin and Jason Lescalleet resurrect such mental refuse and put just such a question to the test. They may have pointed their microphones at computer vents or the back yard, but what they pulled from those sources is utterly bizarre, to the point of being completely alien.

Much of legendary composer Asmus Tietchens' recent work has been in the form of collaborations, with other like minded artists such as Richard Chartier and Dieter Moebius, with a few solo works coming out amidst the sprawling reissue campaign on Die Stadt. Fast ohne Titel, Korrosion is one of those few new and solo works, and it just reinforces that even so far into his career, Tietchens’ is no less important, and his sly sense of humor is never far behind.

When I learned of this album, it seemed like a dream come true, as I love both Nina Simone and past Xiu Xiu covers (especially "Ceremony").  Consequently, it seemed like an entire album of Jamie Stewart interpreting Nina's songs could be amazing...if I did not think too much about it.  As it turns out, it is not amazing.  It is an interesting experiment with occasionally impressive results though: Nina sounds like Jamie Stewart making an art-damaged, wildly melodramatic cabaret album with some free-jazz elements thrown in.  That is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does not bear much resemblance to either Nina Simone or classic Xiu Xiu.