Most people when asked about the distinctly Japanese dialect of what the world knows as noise can easily mention Merzbow.  Some of the more well versed can even come up with Masonna.  Pain Jerk and the Incapacitants, however, are often reserved for those a bit more "in the know."  Both have had long, prolific careers and this disc captures both of their first, and only performances thus far in the US.  The sound is every bit as brutal and engrossing on here as it is on either of their multitude of studio works.

Richie Hawtin has made some excellent though unexpected choices in 2007 with his still-thriving imprint. After implausibly giving newcomer JPLS a magnetic though understated full-length album showcase, the superstar DJ/producer shifts away from that informed unorthodoxy with a relatively risk-free and agreeable extended EP from one of his apparently deserving second-tier acts.

Chris Hakius and Al Cisneros invert their formula on their third album. Instead of only creating tension through loudness and distortion, they also generate an uneasy mood through a judicious balance of softness and clarity. Recorded by Steve Albini, Pilgrimage finds them branching out into more delicate yet no less intriguing territory for what may be their most consistent album yet.

While the album's philosophy is an integral part of its success and woven into the music, and packaging is undoubtedly personal (wax seal, unique piece of photograph as gift), still Tracks is not giving anything personal away with the liners. In terms of vision Everything Judged by Success Alone is about as close as possible to a one man vision of Godspeed You Black Emperor as anyone's likely to be able to conjure up.

The title of this album translates into "everything open again," especially fitting considering that this band have been going for nigh on three decades and continue to evolve. Many a younger band would be delighted with this as a debut, let alone the 20-oddth studio album of a consistently innovative career, not just musically but also the very means by which a record is made. With Radiohead taking a leaf from their book in terms of cutting out the record label middleman, this album is as much a statement of the healthy state of independent music as it is a fine collection of songs.

Fernando Corona is back with another Murcof record, and this time he's tackling nothing less than the entire cosmos. In terms of creative process, Murcof leans further away from his previous micro-programmed pieces with Cosmos, and relies more on sounds derived almost entirely from recordings of classical instruments. He has not, however, abandoned the idiosyncratic precision or faith in structure that have served him so well.

The music industry needs a new genre about as much as it needs another RIAA, but here is one of the self proclaimed torchbearers of "skull music," apparently characterized by garage rock production values and owing as much debt to sludge metal as early 1980s goth rock.  So, naturally, it's going to be pretty awesome.

One wouldn't expect a disc with pretty pastel shades on the cover to just be so dark and ominous on the inside, but even the gentle female vocals add to this dense, disturbing haze of an album that is difficult to specifically pin down, but its brilliance makes that unnecessary, and what is left has to be one of the most ominous and captivating records I have heard all year

Minneapolis legend Michael Yonkers has been busier than ever lately, releasing two new albums as well as reissuing an essential lost classic from the '70s. On the all-new Carbohydrates Hydrocarbons, he is backed by heavy-hitters The Blind Shake. Having first played together when paired randomly at a club, the experience was so much fun that playing more shows and recording together seemed inevitable. Thank the stars for random occurrences, because this album of pounding anthems and mind-melting guitar frenzy is easily one of Yonkers' best releases yet.

Balancing between brittle noise and gauzy ambience, this album has a spacious atmosphere that stays even in its most clamorous moments. This lightness makes the album listenable throughout, but it saps the intensity of the music. The electronic arrangements are often engaging, but they dissipate into formlessness too soon to reach catharsis.

This double album sees Ruth Rosenthal's poetry set to music by her musical partner, Xavier Klaine. Her words and his music create a delicate whole although moments of black humour and irony break through the elegiac moods. Winter Family deal with weighty issues from the most personal to a haunting passage on the Holocaust. Yet this album is surprisingly easy to listen to, despite the serious nature of the words.

Perhaps I am just not as well versed in my post-punk as I thought I was, or it is a direct result of their short career, but I must admit to have never even hearing of the Young Marble Giants until this box set, but now having heard them, it is safe to say their legacy should be appreciated, and their contributions to music should not be neglected.

This collaboration between cellist/electronics wizard Rawlings and percussionist/mixer Feeney lays out its agenda immediately on the first part:  swelling, high pitched sine waves that pierce and barely relent.  However, for the listener willing to endure the harshness, there is a vast array of subtleties to be found.

Devendra Banhart's fifth album finds him abandoning many of the idiosyncrasies that fueled his earlier work and instead adopting a variety of broader influences. As a result, he reaches neither the ecstatic heights obtained previously nor the jokey lows that plagued Cripple Crow. Apart from a handful of exceptions, Banhart instead settles for something in between for much of this middling effort.

It is reasonable to suggest that Múm are currently in a period of transition. If that's the case, they might choose to linger in this languid and childlike pop ecstasy.

Akron/Family's best material can be found here. Their varied musical proclivities mingle with one another effortlessly; their songwriting is stellar and their performances even better. Their most outstanding record is this one and it's a cycle dedicated to the only mystery on equal footing with death: love.

Better known for his electronic rhythm and bruise work, Mammal's Gary Beauvais moves his project into loner doom blues territory. Not as radical as move as it first reads, Mammal may have changed their palette for a bass and guitar but it is still steadily brooding and unsettled work. The electronic ruts are gone in favor of stringed instrument grooves, his music channelled into a gloomy simplicity.

The latest release from Kip Uhlhorn and Simon Wojan's Cloudland Canyon is far too brief which means that each precious moment on this CD is cherished more than ever. The two pieces on this EP are astounding; both are slowly evolving epics with a heavy hint of Krautrock under a very modern sheen. The end result can only be described as cosmic.

Throughout the history of life, humans are faced with the mortality of our parents, it's simply natural that we outlive our parents if everything goes normally. However, I can't think of anybody who is or was quite ready to deal with the life altering effects that extreme illness (an aggressive "terminal" cancer) has on everybody close. After weeks of dealing on a daily basis with medical uncertainty, insane drug side effects, mental instability, and a "care" system which ejects patients prematurely from necessary hospitalization, I finally had a window of opportunity for a break, and Tiny Mirrors will live forever in my memory for the soundtrack for that weekend.

It is a long time since I have heard Vic Chesnutt, first becoming aware of him like I would expect many people my age did by way of a tribute album in the mid-90s bought on the strength of the artists covering him. That this is his 11th album is a big surprise and listening to it I lament not giving him the attention he obviously deserves previously. This album is filled with tender, witty, funny and heart wrenching moments of lyrical clarity.