Is there such a term for a Catch-22 with a Catch-22? One of the massive upsides to recording music in the current age is the ability to affordably multi-track in real-time. Studio time and money isn't burned in a studio recording demos and soon-to-be outtakes. Waste is decreased, or is it? Are those first versions unimportant artifacts? Is the final product any better because it was practiced less? As a fan of the Shadow Weaver albums these two collections are an exciting special treat, but I doubt any of these songs would have made a mix tape of mine for an LPD newbie 20 years ago.
The perfect blending of rhythms, effects, and an oddly bucolic ambiance characterize Scientist's 1980 debut, an effortless masterwork of dub which very nearly earns its self-aggrandizing title in addition to exemplifying why Hopeton Brown was bestowed such an accurate moniker. Nearly all bass and drums plus studio wizardry and scarce half-choruses of organ or guitar, Scientist intimates the future of electronic music to an unsuspecting public in two minute servings, with groundbreaking restraint.
For every stubborn fan who thinks their best period ended with LP5, there are plenty of others who have found something to love in Autechre's post-Confield run. Expectations and ideas about what Autechre should sound like aside, there's actually plenty there to love. But Exai is one of their best albums, period. Forget about their past work. Without the shadow of Tri Repetae hanging over them, these 17 songs prove to be among the most hypnotizing and dynamic the duo has ever made.
When Luc Ferrari first presented Presque Rien No. 1: Le Lever du Jour au Bord de la Mer (Almost Nothing No. 1: Daybreak at the Seashore) to his colleagues at the GRM, it caused quite a stir. Ironically for such adventurous experimenters in sound, Presque Rien was both too far away from music and too far away from the main principles of musique concrète. However, the four segments of Presque Rien represent some of the most exciting ideas and sounds in the history of electronic music. It goes far beyond an interesting experiment to being a landmark piece of composition whose effects are still reverberating today.
An improvisation for just electric guitar and drums, this album comes together as far more than the sum of its parts, due to Gregoretti's often unconventional, yet solid drumming and di Placido's liberal definition of guitar playing. It most certainly makes for an exhausting release as it rarely drops in intensity, resulting in a chaotic, yet fascinating album.
This is the debut release by Disappears' Brian Case and White/Light's Jeremy Lemos and it is a hugely promising one, deftly mixing together propulsive post-punk, electronic noise, industrial rhythms, and Case's wonderfully deadpan drawl to create something thoroughly bad-ass and charismatic.  Unfortunately, the duo's initial creative flurry seems to have yielded very few real songs, making this "mini-album" feel an awful lot like an awesome single with a handful of less-inspired bonus tracks tacked on.
This unusual split is basically just an excuse to release a handful of lost songs from around the time of Dead C's Eusa Kills album (1989), but that is just fine by me (particularly since I like Rangda too).  It is an inspired pairing for a number of reasons, but the primary one is that the two bands could not possibly sound more wildly different: the Rangda half sounds like a trio of skilled musicians intuitively improvising together, while the Dead C half is an endearingly shambling mess.  Despite that yawning stylistic chasm (and a two decade span between the sessions), both bands offer at least one song that beautifully highlights what they do best.
Lee Bartow's Navicon Torture Technologies project came to a lavish end with the double album The Gospels of the Gash in 2009, after which he adopted the Theologian moniker and continued on. A special limited edition was released alongside, with an additional two discs of exclusive remixes and collaborations with a slew of artists both well known and just getting established. Your Suffering Will Be Legendary reproduces those additional discs, which function nicely on their own, thankfully not relegated to be forgotten bonus material.
While I could not possibly be more weary of synthesizer albums at this point, one still comes along every now and then that miraculously breaches my wall of indifference.  This aptly titled effort is one such album, as Holtkamp has unleashed a burbling, radiant, and psychedelic tour de force.  The sheer candy-colored brightness of Koen's vision still remains a bit of an obstacle for me (as it was earlier this year with Mountain's Centralia), but Liquid Light Forms' dazzling and dense vibrancy is sometimes enough to transcend my normal aesthetic preferences.