The material that makes up Voyeur dates back to 2008, when Celer was at their most prolific as a duo. Intended to be a film score, the sound of this album is in league with the contemporaneous work they were putting out, but there is a distinctly different feel to this album, possibly due to its conceptual framing, or perhaps because of the project’s more conservative release schedule as of late.
This Brooklyn-based composer's debut release for Students of Decay is quite an unusual effort, placing its emphasis most prominently on frequently untreated field recordings of natural spaces (as well as a few unnatural ones).  Even the instrumentation is atypical, as Guthrie uses violoncello and contrabass to weave a creaking, moaning bed beneath French horn playing that frequently sounds like a very large, very sad bird.  There is seemingly not much happening compositionally (overtly, anyway), but Codiaeum Variegatum's languorous, organic, and unfamiliar soundscapes are a lovely place to linger nonetheless.
Andria Degens' first record in five years as Pantaleimon coasts along in a haunting lull, halfway between coherence and a nonsensical haze. A luxury of psychedelic drone and lush orchestration, the narcotic quality of this record is endearing even if it is not fully satisfying. I return often to a few beautifully performed songs buried among a number of other simply competent ones, but I have to admire how engrossing Degens' style is when absorbed at an album's dose.
Lay-by Lullaby is at its core a companion piece to Schaefer's installation work Asleep at the Wheel, which functioned as a call to social awareness that can be lost through the constant movement of modern life symbolized by the repetitive act of automobile travel. This album, however, emphasizes the opposite sensibility. It results in a muted, almost hallucinogenic series of calm compositions that revel in the repetition.
Pierre Jolivet (Pacific 231) and Philippe Blanchard (Lieutenant Caramel) have both been active in experimental music since the mid 1980s, and this is not their first collaboration. However, Aunt Sally is one of those albums that, even after sitting with it for a while and a number of repeated listenings, I still have mixed feelings about. Some moments come across as brilliantly absurdist pairings of cut up music and junk noise. Then there are moments that feel simply like random bits of sound slapped together haphazardly, justifying hat often leveled complaint against this sort of challenging art.
Originally attributed to The Units, this cryptic, haunting, and otherworldly 1978 debut is the album that began over three decades of myth, legend, and speculation regarding the man behind Corwood Industries.  While both the band name and cover art aesthetic proved to be quickly discarded false starts, Sterling Smith's uncompromising musical vision was fully formed from the very beginning...or at least as close to being fully formed as it would ever get.
Although I have only been following Luke Younger's career for a few short years, one thing is very clear to me: he definitely does not like to repeat himself.  Curiously, however, that creative restlessness is not channeled into any sort of recognizably linear evolution; rather, each new Helm release seems to be a self-contained experiment or reinvention.  In keeping with that theme, these latest two EPs take divergent paths and succeed in divergent ways, though Silencer is definitely the superior one.
While there are many fine reasons to love Sublime Frequencies, their latest album highlights a personal favorite: their unwavering willingness to release superficially absurd, financially doomed, or utterly uncategorizable projects solely because they are interesting and unique.  Also, the fact that they are an established label means that something like this (a random-seeming collage of radio snippets recorded almost a decade ago) needs to be treated with considerably more critical thought and openness than it normally would be.  It certainly still sounds like a random collage of radio snippets, mind you, but the intent is deeper and more noble than that.
In their 21st year, Tindersticks have decided to celebrate with two new albums. Across Six Leap Years, a retrospective of sorts, sees them revisiting older material with their current line up and the other is a radical departure as they soundtrack Les Salauds (another Claire Denis film). The soundtrack is the clear winner here but Across Six Leap Years has its moments too.
Compiling songs from various self-released cassettes, Selected Works I: Still Suns features a selection of Christian Dubé's work from between 2008 and 2011. Working heavily with cheap and damaged equipment, Rei Rea’s sound seems steeped most heavily in the noise world, with some more rhythmic elements slipping in to keep things original in an overpopulated genre.
