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It only takes a few, short moments to ruin an entire record completely. Why must obscene jazz samples (i.e., elevator sounds) be used in conjunction with beat and bass heavy arrangements? Those overly-vibrant, obnoxious, and sickeningly bright bass pops combined with dynamically static horn parts lead only to decay. The decay is obviously contagious as it tends to infect the rest of the album.
Ashfelt begin with what sounds like it will be an intriguing mix of dance-worthy rhythms, futuristic melodies, and all manner of vocal samples and found-sound noise bursts. After eighteen minutes of listening, the inconstant and disorienting style changes become annoying and the palette of sounds that seemed so rich intially becomes stale and rots away. Then there are those jazz-wanna-be-samples-of-death that literally send me over the edge. It kills the entire album just as it was starting to pick itself up from its little fall. If the middle tracks that contain the disease-ridden tracks are killed off and the secolnd half of the album is listened to by itself, then everything seems quite wonderful and even promising! Ashfelt takes the best parts of the first half of the album and rearrange and rethink them on the second half; the result is more diverse, more focused, and less annoying. It's as if the band suddenly became more confident in their skills and realized that they didn't have to jump back and forth between styles to keep things nice and interesting. The melodies in the second half are more virile, the beats cut across the sound-spectrum like a swiftly and skillfully wielded knife, and the amorphous sound collages gain a level of intrigue not present before. Cut out the junk in the middle and Fat Space Acid doesn't sound half bad. Perhaps the next release will see this duo become more confident (and critical) and thus more exciting.
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- Taylor McLaren
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"Picked up the new Aesop Rock album on a trip to the local record storeon Tuesday. Interesting cover: lurid and hurt at the same time—itreminds me of the label in a lot of ways. The production is nice andvaried, too: simple fist-pumping and sparse beats in places, buzzingsynths and ringing metal in others. Neato, if maybe a bit too clever atthe expense of the beats at times.
"About halfway through, you make it known that some people have beentalking shit about you and your labelmates for not endlessly relivingthe glory of 1994. Thinking back on my opinion of rap in 1994 (too muchSnoop, too many guns, couldn't relate), I can't say that yours has beena change for the worse. Your response, though, that you've been doingyour thing for ten years now and that the shit-talkers are beneath yournotice, raises a question: Why do you have to hijack a track onsomebody else's album to dress down these `nobodies'?
"I'm all for personal meaning in rap, but beef is tedious, and sixminutes and change of beef IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMEBODY ELSE'S ALBUM (haveI mentioned that that parts bothers me?) is a sour note in an otherwisepretty good slab of music. Gunning for clowns, after all, is just so1994, and that's not where you're at, right?
"Don't let the turkeys get you down."
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![](/brain/images/mount_vernon_astral_temple-musick_that_destroys_itself.jpg)
Mulholland has changed the name of his musical project from the relatively nifty Mount Vernon Arts Lab to the decidedly more turgid Mount Vernon Astral Temple, which should come as no surprise considering his new home on Threshold House. The Moon Musick Boys seem to have precipitated this sudden name change, and have also exerted an influence the new musical direction. For this album, Mount Vernon Aquatic Synagogue abandon the charming retro-futurist trappings that informed previous releases, which sounded a lot like BBC Radiophonic Workshop. Well, apparently Mulholland has decided to drop the Joe Meek posturing and get serious. Lived on decaf, faced no devil.
The new sound involves overblown prog synthesizers arpeggiating into the stratosphere, with sheets of heavy distortion and gale-force winds. Long story short, he's gone completely Kraut. Along with the new sound comes some annoying conceptual posturing. The daft liner notes by Mark Pilkington of Fortean Times drone on about silly time portals and then claim that the rituals done to create these pieces were "chronological terrorism." Huh? Wasn't this "Musick Cures Time" thing already done on Coil's Time Machines? How much of Coil's act is Mulholland planning to borrow? Was it a car or a cat I saw? All of this palindromic ponderousness comes to naught in the end, as the pieces on Musick That Destroys Itself are not the same forward as backward. I know this for a fact. I ripped the tracks to wave files and reversed them. Oh, and the "musick" doesn't destroy itself. If it did, I wouldn't have been able to buy the album.
So, all of this useless conceptual baggage aside, I have no complaint with the music. Both pieces are very similar, although the second track is infinitely more galactic. The synthesizers sound like the wet dream of that keyboard-playing midget from Hawkwind. Big, hefty slabs of Stonehenge siroccos sweep across a barren lunar landscape, with explosions of analogue spraying out into the stars. There is a certain cyclical logic to the structuring of the tracks, much in the same mold as Tangerine Dream's early sidelong compositions. While not perfectly palindromic, I must admit that there is a certain Rorscharch blob symmetry to the tracks. The first pressing also comes with a bonus CD of a live performance, possibly recorded at the Megalithomania! event last year. It's very tasty indeed. While I feel a certain nostalgia for the earlier sound, the new Mount Vernon Android Testicles is certainly a lot of fun as well. Let's hope that for future albums, Drew Mulholland will find some more convincing theoretical garbage to justify his music. Dogma in my hymn: I am God. This review is not a palindrome.
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- Administrator
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- Michael Patrick Brady
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- Administrator
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The 9+ minute epic, "Bluebird of Happiness" begins this year's release and is powerful enough to make everything else in the world cease to matter. Simplistic and elegant, it opens gently and half-way through lets loose a bombastic spine chilling anthem. The group hasn't shifted gears or anything: pedal steel guitars still sit alongside acoustic guitars, chiming glockenspiel, piano, occasional harmonica, and Neil Halstead's reserved vocals. The lineup hasn't changed and still features three original Slowdive members and production by Seefeel/Scala/Locust's Mark Van Hoen. The songs just sound stronger, bolder, and more creatively arranged than before. Even the rhythms of a song like "Battle of the Brokenhearts," with its jangly hoedown pace which usually has me cringing, fantastically pan out to a stunning drum-less million-dollar piano, moog, and glockenspiel melody. Sure, some borderline annoying country riffs still permeate through a few tracks but the songs are strong and captivating enough to sound like they belong this time around.
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- Administrator
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![](http://www.brainwashed.com/brain/images/23skidooculling.jpg)
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![](http://www.brainwashed.com/brain/images/beulahyoko.jpg)
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- Administrator
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![](http://www.brainwashed.com/brain/images/blackeyedsnakesriseup.jpg)
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- Michael Patrick Brady
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![](http://www.brainwashed.com/brain/images/feedback_to_the_future.jpg)
samples:
- Revolver - Heaven Sent an Angel
- Ride - Like a Daydream
- Drop Nineteens - Winona
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