I cannot think of a single artist that is afflicted with such a relentless torrent of inspiration and amazing ideas that a triple album is warranted.  Texas's Korperschwache have not changed my opinion on this issue, but they have made a surprising successful, varied (particularly for a noise band with a Holocaust-derived moniker that names songs after H.P. Lovecraft monsters), and listenable effort nonetheless; especially when considering that the band began in 1995 with the intention of producing "blown-out junk noise hell built on the maxim that you can never be too loud or too obnoxious."

This release from eminent sound ecologist Francisco Lopez and Michael Gendreau—member of Crawling With Tarts (1983-1998)—is less a collaboration between the two than a pairing together of similar pieces culled from recordings they each made in the Far East. Lopez created his tracks from original recordings of machinery in Singapore, China, Taiwan, and Japan, whereas Gendreau's microphone captured sounds from inside the factories of Taiwan and Malaysia. Together as a two CD set, the musical pieces presented by each artist are quite complimentary of each other.

Although the Roll Over Rover label co-head Sean McCann is a relatively recent addition to the underground experimental scene, he has already carved out a name for himself with fully realized releases on a number of labels. On this album—loosely based on Albert Ayler's work of the same name—McCann uses bowed mandolin, processed banjo, vocals, and a plethora of other techniques to create a work that doesn't so much pay homage to the jazz legend's work as take off from where Ayler's spiritual approach left us.

This collection featuring four artists from different countries is strung together by the conceits that all of the artists are relatively unknown and all of them are women.  The disc is agreeably diverse, taking turns through lo-fi pop, fuzzy electronics, and odd singer-songwriter territory.

Having collaborated with the likes of Damo Suzuki and members of Zeni Geva and Acid Mother’s Temple, it’s not surprising at all that this is going to be a loud and “out there” sort of project.  And it is, traipsing the line between free jazz and noise with reckless abandon.  Never leaning fully onto one side or the other, it makes for an interesting dichotomy throughout both studio and live discs.

I’ve long been under the mindset that "post rock" is a euphemism for "prog rock."  Just like "industrial" began to mean "synth pop with distortion" circa 1983.  Not that there's anything wrong with prog rock, who doesn’t love a guy in a cape behind a battery of synths that look like they could have landed the Apollo. Apse are definitely in this genre and for the most part they do pretty well, though I wish this would have been an instrumental album.

With well over 20 releases to its name, Anthony Mangicapra's Hoor-paar-Kraat project has taken on many guises over the years, containing no less than 14 different collaborators over the course of its varied discography. No matter the personnel though, the unit has consistently pushed at the boundaries between drone, noise and musique concrète to masterful effect. Here, Mangicapra teams up with four cohorts and comes up with a beautifully consistent and thematically realized piece. That it has been printed in a relatively large run (for this sort of release anyway...) of 200 is good news, but unfortunately not so good that anyone who wants one can afford to bide their time should they desire a copy. Such is the tape world I suppose; c'est la vie.

These two releases by the Norwegian artist are her first releases despite a long career focussed on sound installations (although she has released work on compilations and worked with Chris Watson and Sigur Rós on field recordings for their Heima movie). A short live CD and a 7” single, they are not exactly meaty but the material included is strong despite the brevity of most of the tracks. The recordings are crystal clear and manipulated beautifully; the two discs are truly remarkable.

Not quite a lost classic and hardly considered a hit in its own time, this accomplished solo debut from an enduring talent is not some mere soul curio. Unlike records rereleased to satisfy some obsessive collectors' lust for digging up obscure R&B regardless of true quality, this album succeeds on its own merits and the potency of its performances.

Much like labelmate Minotaur Shock, Belgium's Dim Dim takes a contrarian and perverse approach to contemporary electronic dance music. Whip is a loopy, absurdist dance party of an album, largely due to Jerry Dimmer's skillful and deranged incorporation of exotica, turntablism, and Negativland-style plunderphonics.

Adhering to the edicts of minimalist techno, the music produced by Jon Gaiser is only minimally enjoyable. Focused listening provides few rewards, but is unobtrusive as the soundtrack to a night spent in back room of a club. At its least it gave me a rhythm to tap along with on my feet.

This German duo is a rave late and a Deutschmark short. However, those stuck on an interminable techno beat will rejoice; this music from electronica’s sordid past has been faithfully recreated for them yet again.

This compiles eight rather austere avant-garde guitar works from artists spanning the world (yet featuring a disproportionate number of Texans).  Thankfully, one of those Texans is Jandek, who conspicuously counterbalances the somewhat academic sensibility of the album.  Despite this aesthetic of high-art sterility, the album has a impressively high success rate.

Dukkha traffic in “true Sheffield black psychedelia” and appear to consist solely of an unnamed and enigmatic British guitarist.  However, I am deeply skeptical of both his purity (the four tracks are stylistically varied) and his degree of evilness (Buddhist author Alan Watts is listed as his sole influence).  He probably actually is from Sheffield though.  Regardless, this is some intriguing (if somewhat flawed) stuff.

Using E-bows (probably) and sculpted feedback, this guitar-based drone duo from Grenoble, France have achieved a masterful balance between womblike bliss and disquietude.  This is an understated and obscure gem.

Anyone who has ever run a label, booked a venue, or reviewed a record knows what its like to be overwhelmed the volume of music vying for your attention. Between day-jobs, time-out, and catching some shut-eye, there isn’t enough time in the day to give every artist out there exposure, regardless of whether they deserve it or not. Faced with that dilemma, Cardboard Records decided to err on the side of generosity in the process of compiling this double CD.

A series of improvisations based on the sea, Low Cloud Means Death sees guitarist Tetuzi Akiyama, percussionist Kevin Corcoran and accordionist, pianist and general musical mastermind Christian Kiefer engaging in some sparse instrumental dialogue that falls somewhere between Morton Feldman's glacial compositions and the patient interactions of Henry Threadgill's Air while maintaining a subtle, near folksy chordal palette.

Culled from recordings discovered by member Klaus Freudigmann, this disc represents a crucial bit of evidence in the lesser known manifestation of Kluster. Recorded live in 1971, Vulcano sees the trio of Conrad Schnitzler, Wolfgang Seidel, and the aforementioned Freudigmann engaging in far more experimental electronic excursions than their counterparts, Roedelius and Mobius, would ever delve into.

Born out of improvisations and a drawn-out postproduction, this album could have been an overworked mess. Instead, this is one of those occasions where slow and steady wins the race. After four years working together, these three collaborators have created a serene collection of gentle music. Fragile melodies and ghostly atmospheres are balanced by blissful jams, all coming together to make a truly remarkable release.

This odd little multicolored 7" record puts these two relatively young projects together, and demonstrates just how diverse the so called "noise" scene can be.  While both mix elements of contemporary drone, Locrian layers and moulds sound into structured chaos, while Katchmare focuses on simple, singular sounds to create an oddly toned piece of noise.