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While I never feverishly anticipate everything this Hoboken trio releases I do enjoy their music for the most part. When Matador gave the opening track away, the killer 10+ minute "Pass the Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind," I was excited for an album that could live up such a promising track. Unfortunately, what follows is a deluge of mediocrity.
While "Pass the Hatchet,..." isn't reminiscent of Krautrock, I do feel a similar affinity to a good Neu jam: it's got a great hook, a chugging rhythm, and feels comfortable and right at being long for a rock song. Vocals are raw and low in the mix, creating an enjoyable conflict with the instruments while wailing guitar solo action provides ample fill for when there's no words. Its counterpart, the long closer "The Story of Yo La Tengo" is almost as promising, and while I do appreciate the build it's almost too Sonic Youth worshipping and doesn't have the same hook or appeal as the opener did. It, like the 13 songs that separate each suffer from a lack of as much drive or energy as the opener and are full of blaise chord progressions and boring vocals.
"Beanbag Chair" feels like a trite indie rock cliche, "Mr. Tough" creepily strikes me as the only rhythm any stuffy NPR host will groove to this year, the post-exotica organ-heavy "The Room Got Heavy" has been done better by Stereolab numerous times over, and "Watch Out For Me Ronnie" is just a sort of insincere punk tribute with embarassingly painful guitar riffs. I actually don't have much of a problem with the ballads like "Black Flowers," or the Georgia-sung "I Feel Like Going Home," as they're far more compelling listens than the upbeat songs, creating enough of a conflict with the rocking tunes. The ballads like "The Weakest Part" and "Song for Mahlia," however, easily put me to sleep.
Yo La Tengo are good songwriters and have come up with some of my favorite tunes, but I have yet to be won over by any of their albums as a while. I do feel that they often fail at quality control: nurturing 8-9 songs into something great on the is always worth more for my tastes than throwing together 15 songs of mixed quality.
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4AD readies “Wake”
a two-disc DEAD CAN DANCE collection
release date: October 10th, 2006
4AD is excited to release a condensed compilation of Dead Can Dance
music. “Wake” contains tracks chosen by Brendan Perry from the out
of print limited-edition box set, which was released by 4AD in 2001.
The compilation spans Dead Can Dance’s entire career, including the
last track that Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry completed as the band
‘The Lotus Eaters’ (previously only available on the box set).
Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry formed Dead Can Dance in the early
‘80s, releasing eight critically acclaimed and highly individual
albums during their seventeen year career with 4AD. As well as being
a unique musical force, Dead Can Dance are also one of the most
commercially successful 4AD bands, selling millions worldwide. Since
the band’s split in 1998, both Lisa and Brendan have continued making
music. Brendan Perry released his stunning ‘Eye Of The Hunter’ album
in 1999 and Lisa Gerrard has recorded solo albums and contributed her
glorious vocals to film scores such as ‘The Insider’, ‘Heat’ and
‘Gladiator’, for which she received a Golden Globe award and was
nominated for an Academy Award. Lisa also did the soundtrack to the
award winning New Zealand movie ‘Whale Rider’.
Given the huge success of the 2005 Dead Can Dance reunion tour, now
is the time to revisit this hugely influential band.
“Utilizing traditional instruments in untraditional combinations,
Dead Can Dance have created a sound that is distinctly their own, and
instantly recognizable.” PITCHFORK
“...a breathtaking fusion of ancient and modern sounds, the results
of which often transcend the stylistic entrapments of a specific
culture for something larger.” CMJ
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ARAB STRAP | TEN YEARS OF TEARS
Farewell compilation album released early 2007
After six studio albums, three live albums and countless gigs, Arab Strap
are to split up. A book-end compilation album and a celebratory farewell
tour will mark the end of Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton's ten year
relationship. The Last Romance, released in 2005, will remain their final
studio offering.
"There's no animosity, no drama. We simply feel we¹ve run our course,"
explains Aidan. "The Last Romance seems the most obvious and logical final
act of the Arab Strap studio adventure. Everybody likes a happy ending."
Titled Ten Years Of Tears (a nod to the critics who frequently pegged Arab
Strap as "Falkirk miserablists'), the compilation is by no means a
traditional 'Best Of' collection. Comprising B-sides, demos, remixes, new
recordings, live tracks and Peel sessions, it's a handpicked selection
designed to give a full picture of this unique band.
"The idea of the compilation is to capture the essence of the band over our
ten year career," says Malcolm. "Sometimes the albums were a bit stifled
because we were worrying too much about making a good album. I think that
live versions of songs and b-sides etc show a truer, more relaxed side to
the band. Ten Years Of Tears can serve both as an introduction to Arab Strap
and also a fitting finale to those people who have followed us along the
way."
Acquaintances on the Falkirk scene, Aidan and Malcolm became friends in
1995. They soon began making music together, telling twisted tales of messy
sexual encounters, shit jobs, titanic drinking sessions and the twisted
chemistries of human relationships. They called themselves Arab Strap after
a sex toy Aidan spotted in a porn mag.
Signing to Chemikal Underground, they released their debut single, The First
Big Weekend, a tale of Aidan and Malcolm's adventures on the weekend
Scotland were knocked out of Euro '96, in September of that year. A cult
classic, it's included on this compilation along with a recording from their
debut live performance. Over the years that followed, we were given
countless glimpses into the intimately private lives of our two
protagonists, whether they were pondering the risk of STDs (Packs Of Three)
or wondering if they'd get to shag that friend of the cellist from Belle &
Sebastian (I Saw You).
"No one really writes honest, hateful love songs," Aidan once said. "The
kids never hear it like they should hear it. They should know of the
farting, the fighting and the fucking. The pain and the pleasure."
Together, Aidan and Malcolm have created some of the most beautifully
observed and brutally painful music of the last ten years. The album ends,
appropriately enough, with the triumphal There Is No Ending. The story
continues with Malcolm's solo career (he's currently recording his new album
with Tony Dougan at The Castle Of Doom in Glasgow) and Aidan¹s recordings as
his alter ego L. Pierre (new album 'Dip' released early 2007) and a
spoken-word album and tour in late 2007. And then there's this album, which
serves as a key to that astonishing back catalogue. Future generations who
want to know about the farting, the fighting and the fucking will hopefully
know where to look.
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Crunchy, harsh, trance, rhythmic, noise, acidic, violent and unavoidable are all words that have been used to describe the music of Terrorfakt. The NYC based artist has been grafting infectious and innovative power noise trance since 2001. their corrosive music has re-invented and infused the noise and trance genres of electronic music with fresh ideas and influences. Their second album on Metropolis, Teethgrinder, is a myriad of torment, anger, confusion, hatred and pain. Agressive is too mild of a word to describe the pummeling beats, explosive rhythms, critical state melodies and self-destructive tempo. With the most raging album you'll hear this year, Terrorfakt has reached unprecedented levels with the seething Teethgrinder.
Teethgrinder tracklisting:
01. Welcome To Hell RA MP3
02. Headcase
03. The Unknown
04. Damage
05. Skullfucker
06. The Fine Art Of Killing Yourself RA MP3
07. Empire
08. Rhythm & Hate
09. Stormbreaker
10. M15
11. Crown Of Thorns
12. Do Unto Others
13. Sie Bringen Mich Um
14. Animal
15. We Gave Till We Bled
16. Welcome To Hell (Reshanked by Manufactura)
17. The Fine Art Of Killing Yourself (Refined by Tonikom)
FALL TOUR w/ TONIKOM
09.07.06 - Garfield Werks - Pittsburgh, PA
09.08.06 - Empire @ Whitehawk Cafe - Penn Hills, PA - DJ DATE
09.09.06 - The Phantasy - Lakewood, OH
09.11.06 - Jakes - Bloomington, IN
09.12.06 - Smalls - Hamtramck (Detroit), MI
09.13.06 - The Inferno - Madison, WI
09.14.06 - Star Central - Minneapolis, MN - CANCELLED
09.15.06 - Spot 6 - Chicago, IL (with Caustic)
09.17.06 - Bluebird Theater- Denver, CO
09.20.06 - Sabalas Mt. Tabor - Portland, OR
09.21.06 - The Vogue - Seattle, Wa
09.24.06 - The DNA Lounge - San Fransisco, CA
09.27.06 - Infirmary - Garden Grove, CA
09.29.06 - The Krave Lounge - Las Vegas, NV
09.30.06 - Sadisco @ Mardi Gras - Scottsdale, AZ
10.01.06 - House Of Rock N Roll - El Paso, TX
10.04.06 - The Conservatory - OK City, OK
10.05.06 - Darkside Lounge - Dallas, TX
10.06.06 - Sanctuary - San Antonio, TX
10.07.06 - Havok - Houston, Tx
10.10.06 - Club Red - Gainesville, FL
10.12.06 - Young Avenue Deli - Memphis, TN
10.13.06 - Main Street Lounge - Louisville, KY
10.14.06 - Outback Lodge - Charlottesville, Va
10.18.06 - Asylum, Washington D.C.
10.19.06 - Alchemy, Washington D.C. - DJ DATE ONLY
10.28.06 - Valentines - Albany, NY
Terrorfakt | Tonikom | Metropolis Records
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"Dogwood Rust" activates the fuzzed-out, manipulated, rock-crushing side of this five piece from the get-go and lambasts the speakers with the same kind of punishment they've made a name for themselves on. Comet on Fire have undoubtedly changed, though, adding a melodic, tuneful side to their chaotic free-form rock.
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The second album from Brooklyn’s instrumental electrodisco darlings Ratatat is a remarkably flat-footed affair. Operating under the guise of familiarity, the group manages to leave almost no distinctive imprint on this somewhat boring album.
Although it initially comes across as interesting if not exciting, closer inspection reveals how bland this album actually is. The disc starts off promisingly enough with "Montanita," yet the song says all it has to say in the first minute and doesn’t really go anywhere. "Lex" has a great opening, but other than embellishing the main riff in a few different ways, it does little else of note and begs for vocals. Vocals and decent lyrics might be the missing ingredient here, especially if the words inspired the group to expand their songwriting. Instead, something like "Kennedy" comes across as an instrumental remix of some other, better song.
Most of these tracks have one good idea that the group tries to dress up ad nauseam, but to tedious effect. "Loud Pipes" is a good example of this, then again so is almost any other song on the album. On the other hand, I’m a sucker for "Wildcat" if only for the sampled wildcat growl that shows up throughout the song. The music itself is somewhat monotonous electric boogie dance floor fare, but something about that wildcat makes me smile and keeps me listening.
Maybe if I’d first heard this album in a more festive context, I might have liked it more. However, its weaknesses far outweigh its strengths and it’s much too dull, especially when I’d rather be dancing. This could have been a great party album, but instead it comes across as just another retread of things that were done better the first time around.
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"Dogwood Rust" activates the fuzzed-out, manipulated, rock-crushing side of this five piece from the get-go and lambasts the speakers with the same kind of punishment they've made a name for themselves on. Comet on Fire have undoubtedly changed, though, adding a melodic, tuneful side to their chaotic free-form rock.
Blue Cathedral had plenty on it to offer in the way of southern comforts and with a name like "Whiskey River" on that album it would be impossible not to think a little of the country's lower region had touched this band's ears. Comets on Fire weren't finished there, though, and everything on Avatar points to the rowdy and relaxed land below the Mason-Dixon. "Dogwood Rust" rumbles and soars in a haze of cymbals and walking bass lines, guitars springing over that rhythm with a strut and maybe some stumbling: it's a righteous mix of all things rock 'n' roll.
There's a purity in its sound that can't help but illicit all the silliest guitar solo faces in the world. With the rhythm section holding everything down nice and tight, everyone else in the band has the chance to show their stuff, literally exploding with bits of melody and feedback. I'm not sure I could handle this much rock if this pace were continued throughout the album and the band shows their increased song-writing ability by keeping that mania present, but slowing things down a little, focusing their noise enraptured energy into smaller spaces and slower cadences.
After the rough and tumble "Dogwood Rust" comes to a halt, the band turns everything down without damaging their sound, without removing themselves from that power that made them so unavoidable in the first place. "Jaybird" is a sweetly melodic jam that meanders about as though a stroll in the country were its only natural comparison. Ethan Miller's vocals seem to be simultaneously yelled and whispered, carried by the incessant circularity of the again excellent rhythm section. The whole band seems to loosen up, but they continue to play with that same insistence, that same forward driving motion that makes all of their songs rock by necessity. Avatar is riddled with songs like this. "Lucifer's Memory" and "Sour Smoke" both feel propelled by the fiery hand of a rock 'n' roll Jesus, but their jazz-influenced arrangements bring all the sound to a smokey crawl. Some of these songs could easily be dances as orchestrated in hell by the spirits of a demented voodoo tribe or they could be smoked-out ritual music for people out to have a good time. I guess it doesn't matter, this stuff sounds fantastic.
There's plenty of freaked out, fuzzy bliss on Avatar, too. "The Swallow's Eye" starts slow and then begins to take off, slowly building the sort of steam that can only end in disaster; the result is the concussive, million-mile-per-hour thrash fest, "Holy Teeth." It's as though the band couldn't keep a lid on their excitement and they just had to give themselves the opportunity to sacrifice their instruments and blow their amps to dust.
This album holds together well and stands out in my mind as one of the best things released this year for a lot of reasons, but the main one is that Comets on Fire have their own voice and no matter how much they borrow from the past or from other, well-known genres, that voice stays loud and clear. On top of that, they've continued to grow as songwriters; their obsession with sound and power has evolved. They've learned how to handle that aspect of their music incredibly well while juggling the tasks of writing great songs with memorable melodies and keeping their approach fresh the entire time.
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Recently I was lying on a very comfortable couch in a quiet house. For a couple of hours I was mostly asleep or in a semi-conscious dreamstate. Later I discovered that in a room nearby was a cat who had infrequently remembered that it wanted to get out and engaged in brief episodes of door-rattling. Listening to this record is very like that experience: peaceful, hypnotic, slightly disturbing, repetitive, flawed, transporting.
The three untitled pieces on Guitar Realtime Processing offer a sense of mesmeric stilless and vague movement. As with Eno's Oblique Strategies to some extent, and his ambient systems in particular, more might be gained by discarding the usual preconception of how to proceed; by not actively listening. This is sound as shifting and surrounding as fog, yet with an odd emotional impact. In terms of direction or coaxing, there's little to follow. Something approaching constant change and insubstantial permanence emerges. It is the audio equivalent of a rarely visited brook, or (as in Murakami's South Of The Border, West Of The Sun) of "rain softly falling on a vast sea, with no one there to see it."
Dinkins, a former resident of Shreveport, also records as Unguent. The history of music in Shreveport gives no clues to the sound of this record, however. Leadbelly favored the twelve-string, and was from Shreveport and although new evidence suggest they might be from Slidell, The Residents still claim Shreveport as their site of origin, before—like Dinkins—a relocation to California. On a map of sound, the location of Guitar Realtime Processing is closer to the least tuneful aspects of Budd & Partridge's Through The Hill. While these sketches lack the austere depth of such contemplative works as Nils Okland's Bris, it's similarly a record in which to get lost, and American Routes be damned.
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The double album solo debut from Matthew Friedberger of The Fiery Furnaces is a mixed bag that’s often exasperating. While there are great songs buried within both albums, it takes a bit of digging to find them.
Winter Women’s opener, "Under the Hood at Paradise Garage," is a bit of a head scratcher. Stuttering and clunky, it’s heavy on lo-fi beats and Friedberger isn’t afraid to throw in some cheap effects. The track isn’t terribly catchy, but its construction is intriguing. Many of the songs that follow, however, lack the same quirky charm and stray dangerously into easy listening territory with a flute dogging nearly every track. Although "P.S. 213 Mini-School" is decent, the album really picks up with the last five songs, which are actually pretty good, throwing in weird arrangements and odd noises for good measure. Of these, I enjoyed "I Love You Cedric" the most because of its strange rhythm and the chiming guitar.
Holy Ghost Language School is designed to be the more experimental of the two albums. "Seventh Loop Highway" starts the album as a Beefheartian stomp but halfway through drops the guitar in favor of piano and follows a completely different muse to its completion. There are plenty of experiments to be found elsewhere on this disc, but many of them simply aren’t developed enough to warrant multiple listens. As enjoyable as the second half of the title track is, without the first half it would have been even better. Some of the songs, like "The Cross and the Switchblade," are just plain boring. "Do You Like Blondes?" engages with the strange tone of its bass and Friedberger’s spoken word accompaniment, but "Topeka and San Antonio" gets annoying quickly. After a while this disc becomes a morass of recurring motifs and approaches that tires more than it entertains.
There are enough gems between the two discs for one fantastic album, but as a double album it’s a bit of a stretch.
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Troniks/PACrec
Every now and then I like the sound of a chainsaw working its way through three square miles of steel, rock, and animal flesh, but far too often I'm left in awe of how senseless so many of those sounds are. Choking on Grave Soil inspired a Velvet Underground moment for me, a moment where I said to myself, "I think I could do this." I'm not interested in imitating the sound necessarily, but so much of this album seems completely and totally disorganized, as though the idea of arrangement was thrown to the wind and left for dead. This lack of arrangement kills the album for me, rendering any viciousness null and leaving the attack without any edge to speak of. To his credit, Holger has organized portions of these two long tracks into moments of relative chaos and relative stability, but all of it seems intentionally messy. Parts of this album just blend together as recordings of garbage disposal sound turned up to 11 and recorded by a contact mic.
There's no doubt in my mind that the sounds Holger squeezes out of his machines are black and nasty as they come, there being no better point of reference for the sounds employed than the action of choking that the album title suggests. I wish the feeling that this album was recorded in the same amount of time that it takes to play would leave me, but it seems as though a bunch of feedback and distortion was turned up to max levels and thrown together haphazardly with no care given to their running order. All the crunching, cracking, hissing, and rumbling in the world might make for one hell of a headache-inducing experience, but it isn't enough to make a great album. In fact, this seems less like an album and more like a collection of harsh sounds people might enjoy if they were angry enough. As moments of the second track really catch my ear, I can only hope that some portions from this disc will be excavated and used on a Hive Mind release, a project where I know Holger pays as much attention to his arrangements as he does to his choice of sound.
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