Probably the Italian trio’s longest release, while still clocking in at under a half hour, this 12" EP brings some excellently grimy punky rock music, with a good helping of bizarre tape loop noises and electric outbursts. With a familiar, but fresh sound, the worst thing is it simply is too short.

All too often these compilations of long-buried, unused material are an inevitable disappointment, consisting of songs that should have stayed hidden or alternate takes that add little to any artists repertoire. However, this is Can, and material from their strongest era, so I came in with higher expectations than I normally would, and these expectations were exceeded. Much of the material on here is as strong as anything that was put on their classic albums of the era and is absolutely essential.

With Eleh having cemented themself as perhaps the modern minimalist, their split LPs have become a fascinating journey into the genre’s old guard such as Pauline Oliveros and Ellen Fullman as well as platforms for newer artists like Sun Circle, and in this case, Duane Pitre. As usual, Eleh’s hardcore analogue drones are well matched by Pitre’s feather-light just intonation harmonics. Both sides reflect different aspects of minimalism’s past without being pale shadows of those earlier pioneers. In fact, Eleh and Pitre demonstrate that despite a bloated market filled with crappy drone acts there is still plenty of life and room for invention in minimal music.

This unusual release is the fruit of a three-year project in which Valles sampled, manipulated, and collaged material from Nonesuch's '60s and '70s avant-garde heyday.  Drawing upon the work of luminaries such as Charles Ives and Elliot Carter (using the original vinyl, naturally), Damian has woven together a crackling and vibrantly textured drone opus that doubles as an inventive (if unrecognizable) homage.

This year seems like a wildly and uncharacteristically prolific one for Mark Spybey and Robin Storey, as they have already released this double-album, a soundtrack, and now have yet another double-album coming out next month.  That avalanche of new material is a bit deceptive though, as these recordings are actually taken from two days of improvisations back in 2009.  The duo were certainly inspired on those particular days, but many of these pieces too easily betray their made-up-on-the-spot origin.  As a result, this massive album simultaneously recalls both the best and the worst aspects of Zoviet France's legacy.

A lot can happen in 26 years, including the return of industrial/noise pioneers Cabaret Voltaire. While now pared down to solely Richard H. Kirk, Shadow of Fear is still a very much a worthy release in the band's canon of dystopian paranoia, hearkening back to the inventiveness of Red Mecca with the rhythms of 2x45, and further improved by rich, expert production. Kirk drags all of the band's musical past into the future, encouraging the listener to dance with boundless abandon as a panacea from the "shadow of fear." The result? Kirk succeeds in injecting a new freshness into Cabaret Voltaire, sounding more energized than like-minded artists a fraction of Kirk's age.

Unlike his usual penchant for releasing single, album long pieces, this two disc compilation collects nine distinct, different pieces with the only specific commonality being the year that they were recorded. For that alone it makes it a wonderful introduction to López' complex, often difficult to absorb artistry.

Across two side-long tracks, this "spontaneous composition" using only the Grafton Alto Saxophone, Bengt is an in-depth study of a singular instrument, as well as of the artist himself. The unique tonality of the instrument, and Gustafsson’s unique approach to playing it makes for a fitting tribute to Bengt Nordström, who whom this work is dedicated.

I am sure that working under the shadow of a massively influential father (Graham, in this case) is not an enviable position, but Klara's brief and enticing debut is unusual and eerie enough to avoid any annoying comparisons or unmet expectations.  Culled from field recordings made in Europe, Russia, and Turkey, Lewis' pieces sculpt a host of unmusical sounds into spectral and unsettling minimalist dance music that is deliciously alienating and undanceable.

This was recorded at the same time as last year's spectacular Pages on a Plane album (which is still in heavy rotation at my place), but takes things in a dramatically different direction.  I dearly hope this new direction is merely a one-off experiment though, as Michael Jantz's current manic, maximalist psychedelia streak is decidedly not for me.  Fortunately, there is one truly great "old-style" piece included that prevents Go Around, Again from leaving me totally exasperated.