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It's difficult for a band with ten years and a solid reputation of having a signature sound to take a bold step without feeling the repercussions. While The Great Destroyer is shockingly different for a Low album, rest assured that all the elements people have grown to love are still in the mix. The first three songs rush the album in with a fierce tempo—much faster than what Low are expected to do—and layered fuzzy organs and chunky guitars over thumping rhythm lines and buried acoustic guitars.
Songs like "California" and "Everybody's Song" are instantaneously catchy, and it doesn't take many listens to easily sing along. Finding a cool comfort in a quieter approach are songs like the haunting re-recorded "Silver Rider," originally released on the "Murderer" single, and "Cue the Strings," which could easily be a nod to the Secret Name version of "Will the Night" with its use of (no surprise here) strings. Towards the end, the album lightens up with two fictitious autobiographies, "When I Go Deaf," where Alan sings about all the benefits of going deaf, and "Death of a Salesman," where he faces the doubts that nearly all musicians have at one point in their life.
Low have done a complete 180 degree turn on The Great Destroyer, as their deeper subjects tackled are the loudest rock tunes and the sillier lighter things are the quiet, slower numbers. The biggest criticism people have been giving (and all it takes is a few web searches or to be signed up on an email list to witness) has been "this isn't the Low I love." As music listeners, we're all guilty to some degree of taking a certain "ownership" of music, especially when it isn't multi-platinum hitmakers that everybody in your family or office knows. (Oh, that's "Jon" music they say around me, and I'm sure many people reading this have had the same thing happen at the home or office.) My criticism isn't with the musical choices the band took, as Low still sincerely dedicate themselves to perfection within the pop/rock framework, but with the production. Dave Fridman, the overrated knob twiddler for Flaming Lips who nerdy hipsters drool over, has seemed to fail to keep up with Low's enthusiasm. Layers of distorted guitars and beefed up drums get out of hand and sound like they're clipping at overdriven levels. If they wanted to sound amateurishly distorted, then they've done a good job, but there are moments on the album that sound way too accidentally muddy. Regardless, this is an album that I have grown a great fondness for in the short time I've been listening.
It's not entirely unexpected from Low, but it's easy to see that executed in such a bold contrast to their trademark can go either way: treasure or trash. This album is an elephant in the livingroom and people will undoubtedly have a hard time getting around it without an opinion.
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Cover artwork is collected froma few of Steve's own personal favorite paintings for the original cover(all were different on the original 1987 issue) and the overall designechoes what has worked for Nurse in the past. Although all the musichas been released before (both on LP and various CDs), everything iscurrently out of print. This is the first time all the songs have beenreunited on a CD, and it sounds wonderful. Tracks were originallygathered from cassette-only releases, compilations, a live bit, andother odds and ends. All have been remastered and sound more vibrantthan ever, from the nasty organ through piano banging on the opening"Mourning Smile" (which probably shouldn't have gone on the CD releaseof Spiral Insanato begin with), to the shrieking banshee noises on "Sheela-Na-Gig," andthe dying manatee sounds on "Astral Dustbin Dirge," which mostdefinitely shouldn't have gone on the CD issue of Homotopy to Marie."Swamp Rat," although it's rarely a popular song with existing fans,undeniably has the elements that fans fell in love with NWW for: aconstant pulse (even if it is a cheesy drum machine in this case), anoccasionally repeated sample, a drone of some sort, and someunconventional instrument playing over it. Even the least intoxicatingsongs never got boring. While a lot of musicians and distributors andfans think the collapse of World Serpent was a bleak moment, I lookforward to more classy reissues like this with the delicate time andenergy invested into restoring a original running order and remasteringrecordings with the finesse that somebody like Colin Potter possesses.samples:
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To date his resumeincludes production duties for MURS, Mr. Lif, Wildchild, CL Smooth andDeclaime, and has dropped many a verse on records produced by Madlib,Stones Throw patriarch Peanut Butter Wolf, and others. The reason forthe debut's delay is unclear; he's been signed for a while and has beenrecording even longer—he did his first demo at age eleven, was foolingwith production equipment in Madlib's room long before then, and in hisadult years put out a slew of singles in addition to his guest spots.The favor is returned on The Disrupt:Jay Dee provides a heavy Detroit club banger, Madlib gives brotherlylove on six eclectic tracks, and other members of the extended StonesThrow family also lend a hand. The foundation for a great debut isthereby laid, but something seems to be missing. Oh No is supposed tobe the star, and the veteran of one too many a guest spot and 12" can'tseem to carry the load through the admittedly solid seventeen trackswithout the help. The album teems talent and creativity but at thesacrifice of cohesion, balance and continuity: the heavy hitting TheRide (with samples pulled from Nintendo classic Ninja Gaiden) is followed up by mellow, soulful thought-provoker Getaway. The years that Oh No spent creating snippets of material rather than longplayers are evident on The Disrupt.It works two ways: he's clearly picked up nearly all the tricks of thetrade, and provides nearly everything the hip hop listener could wanton the multifaceted Disrupt. But in the end, the record feelshewn together, an amalgamation of otherwise worthy parts but not aperfect whole. That in turn raises the question of whether or not hiphop is an album-oriented genre—and if Oh No has picked up anything fromMadlib, he should be advised to follow up The Disrupt withsomething more cohesive. This is the only complaint, though, and it's aminor one. Oh No's talents as producer, MC and DJ are evident. Thesecombined with the guest spots make what might be slapdash patchwork forsome a delicious rap smorgasbord for others. samples:
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Hipshot
His long-standinginterest in Hawaiian steel guitar, Pacific culture and exotica reachedits apex last year with the release of his Rayon Hulaalbum, a fascinating experimental work combining dizzying loops fromold Arthur Lyman records with Cooper's impressive improvisation onsteel guitar.
Cooper's new limited CD-R release on his own Hipshotlabel is a recording of an October 2003 live performance at animprovised music festival in Rome. The live set is composed of onelong, slowly evolving piece combining field recordings, real-timesampling, digital treatment and loops with live improvisation onCooper's 1920 National tri-plate lap steel guitar. It's a richlyevocative work that meanders lazily through oceanic expanses ofelectronic twitters and drones, to lush jungle landscapes filled withexotic birds and hypnotic curls of delayed steel guitar. Twice duringthe performance, all of the disparate elements gel unexpectedly intogentle vocal songs.
The first is a cover of Van Dyke Parks' "Movies IsMagic," and Cooper transforms the nostalgic ode to old Hollywood into awarm and nuanced thing of beauty, with his lazy ripples of guitar givenjust the right touch of digital processing. The other song is"Dolphins," a track by 1960s folk singer Fred Neil (though TimBuckley's haunting rendition is probably the most notable), whichCooper gives a soulful rendition against a backdrop of abstractelectronic noise and sparse, minimal guitar. At times during thelengthy experimental interludes, especially during the "Virtual Surfer"section, the dense noisy textures, animal sounds and psychedelicelectronics sound remarkably similar to Black Dice's recent Creature Comforts.
The album is incredibly rich and evocative, and as a live performance,it's utterly flawless. Cooper takes live guitar processing and samplingas his raw material, using it to build something complex andsubstantive, full of ideas and surprises, not just abandoning ithalf-formed. Everyone who thought Fennesz' last record was the best of2004 would do well to listen to Mike Cooper's Reluctant Swimmer/Virtual Surfer,to hear similar musical strategies brought to their full potential by aveteran musician in his artistic prime. As usual, the only way to get acopy of this limited CD-R is to send the artist cash inside a birthdaycard to Hipshot headquarters in Rome. Frankly, I find it incrediblethat one of the many trendy experimental record labels in Europe hasn'tsnatched up Cooper's last few albums for a wider release.
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All of their work up to this album has been strictlyinstrumental: amorphous compositions, largely ambient, combiningelectronic textures and drone with murky samples, buried melodies andother unidentifiable audio goop. The Bodyshop is a departurepoint for the group; not only is melody front and center on almost allof the tracks, several actually feature vocals. Just to place thisalbum is stark relief to previous efforts, Beequeen also include acover of Nick Drake's "Black Eyed Dog," with lovely vocals byMarie-Louise Munck of Danish band Armstrong. This is still identifiableas the work of Beequeen, but it feels like a quantum leap for the bandin terms of structure, composition and production. There are stillplenty of pretty moments of quiet psychedelic nebulousness, but thereare also upbeat numbers like "On the Road to Everywhere," which sets alively post-jazz melody against layers of encroaching drone andchirping arpeggiators. It achieves a beautiful complexity, with certainelements standing out in bold relief and others blurry and shapeless,just beyond the realm of cohesion, like thick globs of color on aparticularly formless work of impressionist art. On the whole, thealbum feels very sedate and beatific, but there are tense undercurrentsof radiant darkness that permeate tracks like "Blackburn" and "BuzzbagDrive." The latter is a standout track, a dark Lynchian westernfeaturing noisy swathes of electric guitar from guest Erik Drost,member of Girlfriends and newly of the Pink Dots. At 37 minutes, thealbum feels a bit truncated, but not a moment is wasted. It's unclearwhether this is indicative of Beequeen's future artistic direction, orwhether this was a one-off tangent into partial coherence. Either way,it's a very welcome departure for the group, and speaks to theirongoing evolution and unwillingness to submit to the forces of creativeinertia. samples:
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For Play, their first album for Important Records, Larsenare still using the same basic sound palette as their previous efforts,with perhaps a more concerted push towards melody. Apparently these sixtracks (each mysteriously named with a single letter of the alphabet)began their life as Autechre covers, before slowly evolving intosomething else entirely. If this information hadn't been outlined byImportant, however, I would have never made the connection. WithAutechre in mind as a reference point, I would say that Larsen wereaiming to expose the oft-obscured melodies underlying Autechre's bestwork from albums like Tri Repetae and LP5. Listening tothe play of vibraphone and drums on the album's opening track, I couldimagine these same melodies in the cold, sterile digital environment ofBooth and Brown, but I could just as easily imagine them as thesoundtrack to a late 1960s psychedelic giallo film scored by Goblin. Inthe final analysis, the Autechre connection is really a red herring,and sells the album short. Play is more a competent work ofdynamic ensemble playing by a group that is becoming more synergisticwith each successive release. I don't normally go in for this type ofostentatious, self-important post-rock, but Larsen are so successful atbuilding a melody and articulating its development perfectly over thecourse of an eight-minute song, that it's hard to resist. The droninglayers of harmonium and accordion create a densely abstractarchitecture for the rhythm to inhabit, with the whispered, chanted andgrowled wordless vocals adding that slightly sinister touch. Current 93listeners will notice interesting parallels between this album andC93's Sleep Has His House, as they use a virtually identicalgrouping of instruments. Occasionally, the players reach a noisycrescendo and the bombast is not dissimilar from vintage Children of God-eraSwans. Guest contributions from cellist Julia Kent (Rasputina andAntony and the Johnsons) and violinist Matt Howden (Sol Invictus) lendthe weighty tone of European folk music to the proceedings, which onlyintensifies the album's exquisitely somber mood. Coming off of a yearof disappointing new albums by post-rock stalwarts Tortoise andcountless GY!BE spinoffs, Play breathes fresh air into anoverpopulated genre. Not that Larsen should be tied to that particularstyle association, as they clearly have a vision that supercedes thekind of high-concept elevator music made by the aforementioned bands.Though it's fairly brief as albums go, Play works because themusic is taught, dramatic and entertaining; as soon as the album ended,I wanted to play it over from the beginning. samples:
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Somewhat more lyrically diverse, save for itsrepetitious one-word chorus, the track's quasi-acidic squelches andshimmering synth echoes drive this infectious club-ready concoction.Additional guest vocalist Andreas Byhlin appears on three tracksincluding the extremely poppy "Implosion." Abandoning the subdued andpompous sense cool often found in minimal house, Byhlin lets looseloudly and soulfully over Skugge's clicky rhythms and digitallycrackling loops. Taking cues from vocal house music figures like RobertOwens and Michael Moog, Byhlin continues in similar refreshing fashionon "Set-Up," confidently crooning alongside dirty basslines and spaceyatmospheres. The instrumental numbers are equally as impressive as thevocal ones, as they allow Skugge to use the melodies themselves asremarkable tonal voices within this danceable framework. The titletrack fills the space with deep and subtly dubby synthwork that washesover the minimal 4/4 beats without overwhelming them. While minimalmusic purists might not care for the relative fullness of Volume,Basic Channel-style techno fans and house music heads alike will takepleasure in this first surprisingly sharp release of 2005. samples:
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This sort of restraint has often been a prelude toa blizzard of harsh noise in Karkowski's past work. KHZis successful because it develops in a gradual manner, rather thansimply being an exercise in quiet/loud interplay. This calm atmosphereeventually gives way to rapid clicking, analog patterns which hover ata moderate volume, and help the piece achieve a sense of movement. By24 minutes these hums and buzzes have become a much louder chorus ofshifting electronic pulses that are a massive payoff. The next fourminutes are an excellent study of the interplay between thisall-enveloping drone and some subtle, high-pitched staccato rhythms.The arrival of a brief noisy section towards the end is barelynoticeable due to the gradual accumulation of intensity thatcharacterizes the flow of the piece. Karkowski benefits greatly fromthis collaboration, as it seems to encourage his (relatively) subduedside. It is to their credit that the pair have restricted the length ofthis piece to 45 minutes, resisting the temptation to fill the CD toits capacity. While too many abstract sound artists explore only oneend of the sonic spectrum, Karkowski and Davidson have succeeded inproducing a work that focuses on the way these elements can worktogether. It is uncertain what relevance the only sleevenote,"rebounding=junk of life" -R. Selavy, has to the sounds containedwithin, but any alliance with Marcel Duchamp's feminine alter-ego is agesture to be applauded. samples:
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Many of the tracks are approximately two minutes long, andcould have been developed into longer pieces. "Bewley in Grey" is onetrack that ends too soon, just as a nice ambience begins to swoop inand swirl around the repetitive guitar patterns. The short pieces whichwork best are those that are based on field recordings. "Cluster at CWMEinion" consists of sounds of creaking, rustling, and the faint voicesof distant animals. If some of the instrument-based pieces were longerand more fully developed, these short sound-collages could work betteras links, and would provide contrast. However, since almost all of thetracks are fairly short, with only five of the 17 passing the fourminute mark, they all end up sounding like sketches. Some of them dowork well as such, but others, especially "Lakeside" and "Bewley inWhite", would have benefitted from added instrumentation. Fi'satmospheric, pastoral quality is a good foundation, but too many of thetracks introduce loops without adding much to them. The album's longesttrack, "Cantaloup Carousel", starts with a strummed, melodic guitarpattern that sounds like an introduction to an actual song. However,this pattern continues for almost six more minutes with littlevariation besides an effect that makes it sound as if it's being playedon a warbly cassette deck. While many of the tracks work well asinstrumentals, some of them sound as if they are lacking vocals. Ifthere were a few vocal tracks, or some other percussive elements added,the album would have more depth. Wilkinson may have feared that addingtoo much would have made the album sound cluttered, as it seems thathis approach is somewhat rooted in minimalism. By adding elements withsubtle gestures, he would have added variety without taking away fromthe album's appeal. Simply developing a few of the stronger pieces intolonger, more finished works would have been another way to give the setmore depth. As a debut album Fi shows that its' creator has alot of potential. It would be nice to see him develop these elementsinto a more fully realized work. Read More
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Although I understood theband's progression and need for growth, I never appreciated it or likedit as much as the older Hood. But the band produced some memorablesongs in these less memorable albums (and one thing which has neverwavered was Hood's ability to produce stunning album covers—they havegood aesthetic sense and photographic ability to beautifully captureEngland's fine fields with every album and single—this album is nodifferent). What is presently more caustic and inimical to Hood's soundnow, though, is their newfound alliance with San Francisco's Anticoncollective, the blossoming and sometimes intriguing indie hip hopoutfit. The Anticon influence is felt straightaway from the firstoffering after the introduction, "The Negatives." The song begins witha recycled hip hop beat which sounds ill-suited for Hood's accustomedrural beauty. The impingement of the city's sound into Hood's usualrusticity is hard to accept, even harder to accept than the previousmetamorphosis from short, concentrated meanderings into longer,digressive journeys. Were there room here for philosophical musingsabout urban sprawl and perhaps even the noxious Colonial influence onthe motherland, we might be able to discern why Hood have wanderedastray from their once-chosen path, adopting both the urban and theAmerican. But before we can think too much, "Any Hopeful ThoughtsArrive" follows closely on "The Negatives," confirming the Anticonalliance and dismissing any real hopeful thoughts. Again, a hip hopbeat with jump cuts and electronically scratched samples begins thesong, later mixing with the more Hood-ish arrangements (strings;layered vocals; thoughtfully-plucked guitars, repeated as befits theirdelicateness). The hip hop elements add nothing to the song; rather,they detract and derail, calling the listener's attention harshly away.The song is actually quite dazzling underneath the initial andlingering cityscape. Another song similarly afflicted is "The LostYou," the lead single from the album. The latter half of the album isby far the more pleasurable. "Still Rain Fell" is the best song on thealbum (the title coincides with my first favorite song of Hood'sdigressive period, "S.E. Rain Patterns"), eschewing wisely any of thecity sounds and retracing the more classic Hood sound. Just listen tohow the band, halfway through the song, mimics the sound of the gentlerain first with their guitars, then with their percussion. These aresounds the city cannot appreciate. Poetically, "L. Fading Hills" fadesout with the most panache on the album, nearly demanding another fewminutes to contemplate the ending themes further. The last song, "ThisIs It, Forever," is a two and a half minute sound collage tryingdesperately to be a song, recalling a lot of what was most compellingabout the old Hood. It's not so much the song "The Lost You" whichtroubles me. It's the lost Hood. The band has lost their way slightly,having wandered too far off some woodland path and emerged throughbrush and shrub on the boundary of some deformed city whose siren songhas lulled Hood into a misguided collaboration. The later moments of"Outside Closer" give hope that some new streams and meadows mightpersuade them back towards their riotous roots in Spofforth Hill. samples:
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Bits of vehemence become swallowed in layers ofpretty chords and moments of relative peace over and over again. Addunexpected time signature changes and stop and go dynamics andbasically every aspect of this EP has been covered adequately. Ifnovelty is found to be necessary, behold the furious slamming of adrummer playing behind a child's first trap set and be satisfied. Whilethe percussion does sound amazingly sharp and sits well with the wallsof musical whirlwind that move with it, the necessity of using achild's drum kit is questionable and stands out like a bad stage propmeant for audience amusement only. "It's Christmas Time Again...," theEP's final track, is an eleven-plus minute monstrosity composed of eachof the previous three tracks: this basically adds up to more of thesame. Instrumental passages of romping grind and heaviness juxtaposedby melancholy and riffs right out of 80's do not become more impressiveover time. This music is not like a good bowl of chili; it doesn'ttaste better the next day or after it's been sitting in the fridge fora night. After being offered song after song of repetitive andultimately uniform rhythmic torture, By the End of Tonight sounds likeit just doesn't have enough ideas for an EP, so the prospects of abetter full-length seem dim for this band. They're all technicallyaccomplished performers, but that doesn't make up for the lack ofsubstance that ultimately dominates their recorded performance. samples:
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