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Pure wildness is a difficult aesthetic to grasp. In rock, attempts to evoke it often devolve into tribal kitsch. On their sixth album, OOIOO negotiates that subtle distinction with skill and integrity. Despite some lapses into tedium, the band remains impressive, both in natural musicianship and in the complete absurdity of their art. Armonico Hewa satisfies and frustrates in equal measure and ends up succeeding by blurring the difference.
 
Superficially, OOIOO is not a particularly difficult band.Yet their music is enough to drive many listeners away, even fans of the band’s parent group, Boredoms. Perhaps the answer lies in the perverse way the band forms their songs. Most often they’re built on extreme repetition. Groups from Neu! to Stereolab to Boredoms themselves use the same method but OOIOO differs because their riffs aren’t meant to sooth. Listening to them is a kind of anti-hypnosis.In "Uda Ha," a shrieking tone emerges mid-song, goading it forward, as if a fire alarm had gone off in-studio.Yet the band will not move on, working the effect until all novelty is bled from it, and not stopping a moment sooner.As they stack chords on top of chords, the song becomes charged with a precarious tension. Each new repetition threatens to spoil the it, but that never quite happens. When change finally arrives, it bursts forth like air from a slashed tire.
Sometimes repetition is more a burden than an asset, especially with the band’s vocals.Armonico Hewa is saturated with sub-lingual chatter.The band gasps, chants, and babbles, throughout the entire album.Sustained over the course of a six-minute song, it can be exhausting.In "Irorun," they prolong a series of hoots and gurgles until it becomes torturous.Relief seemly comes when the song ends, but that it is short-lived, and the band reprises the vocal pattern in the following song, "Konjo."Either OOIOO must delight in tormenting their audience, or sheer endurance must be its own reward for them. Both tropes cease to be novel very quickly. Coordination and stamina should be lauded, but more restraint is needed to really show-off the band’s talents.
But what OOIOO lacks in restraint, they easily recoup in adventurousness. In Armonico Hewa, it’s possible to hear everything from Acid Jazz to Balinese monkey chants. Even the title is eclectic, the phrase being a Spanish-Swahili hybrid meaning "harmonious air." Those who stew themselves in culture theory might find this influence raiding questionable, but OOIOO has a refreshing lack of obvious method. In other words, they defy easy analysis. Multiple influences are plausible for any given song. They could take as much from Taiko drumming as they could from Afro-beat, but ultimately the music might come from none of those sources. OOIOO easily evade being boxed in with their influences. Modern rock is saturated with artists who aggressively proclaim their influences. At this level, appreciation for "world music" tends devolve into collegiate irony or backpacker mysticism. Thankfully, OOIOO create such a singular racket that it renders concerns about appropriation purely academic.
Despite their flexibility, OOIOO seem caught between two audiences. On one hand, their virtuosity and bright, colorful sound falls somewhere within rock music. On the other, their awkward rhythms, nonsense vocals, and excessive minimalism nudge the band towards the avant-garde. They present a radical compromise that provokes both crowds. This is a good thing. Too many bands aim to incite audiences by affecting some insular aesthetic. OOIOO incite because they are bold and vibrant, which is infinitely more charming.
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Borrowing their name from the famously disturbed German surrealist/girlfriend and inspiration to Hans Bellmer, Stephen Thrower's first collaboration with experimental guitarist Daniel Knight (Arkkon/Shock Headed Peters) is a challenging and hallucinatory plunge into claustrophobic dread that shares stylistic territory with Thrower's own Cyclobe and (to a lesser extent) his former Coil band mates' late-period ambient work.
Temporal Bends is culled from five long years of recording sessions and improvisations between these two Amal Gamal Ensemble band mates. While finishing only four songs in five years, the pair nevertheless seemed to have been quite creatively fertile. There is probably nothing here that will surprise any Cyclobe fans, but Stephen and Daniel have certainly crafted a mindfucking monster of a debut.
The bulk of the running time is split between the lengthy titular four-part suite and a somewhat shorter (but similarly dense and deliberate) “Six Fabulous Mutilations” (the title of which perhaps betrays Stephen Thrower's other career as a horror film scholar). The album is rounded out by two more minor pieces that seem a bit less composed, the second of which features guest vocals by Danielle Dax (who also contributed the cover art).
“The Temporal Bends” starts off somewhat tamely with eerie, rather artificial-sounding guitar and synthesizer atmospherics and a deep, pseudo-industrial squelching rhythm that reminds me strongly of Musick to Play in the Dark-era Coil, which turns out to be an extremely deceptive touchstone. The piece soon plunges into an unrelenting black hole of suffocating disquiet and jettisons anything rhythmic or song-like for an abstract and cinematic unfolding that follows only the logic of nightmares—a tone that remains firmly in place for the entirety of the album with little relief.
While all the tropes of the dark ambient genre are on full display (cavernous drones, dissonant harmonies, bleak sustained guitars, endless ebbs and swells, etc.), the duo is quite inventive with their textures and instrumentation. Stephen plays saxophone and clarinet and I am fairly certain that there are digitally mangled recordings of kittens in two tracks. Thrower’s macabre saxophone impressionism cuts through the heavily processed surrounding maelstrom quite nicely and the constantly shifting and warping trajectory of the material is much more reminiscent of grotesquely twisted modern classical than the stark, more static existential horror of artists like Lustmord. “Six Fabulous Mutilations” is probably the most successful of the four works, as it expertly blends coldly disembodied spoken word, dystopian Tangerine Dream-style space music, white noise, shuddering processed vocals, and a host of unpleasant squirming and echoing noises into an unsettling whole.
The two shorter pieces are both pretty odd and warrant discussion as well. The somber lounge jazz of “Nautilus” again recalls Coil (albeit only indirectly), as it shares their tendency to inhabit weird non-genres and/or pervert existing ones. Of course, Thrower and Knight quickly throw a wrench into the works, as the piece is buffeted with spaced-out vapor trails of synthesizers and flayed by distorted squalls of impassioned saxophone before abruptly taking a permanent detour into infernal abstraction. Danielle Dax’s aberrant “Jack Sorrow,” on the other hand, is surprisingly concise and devoid of stylistic detours. Instead, it is just plain creepy: Dax breathily coos a brief morbid nursery rhyme over a bed of heavily processed meowing to end the album on a paradoxically bedtime story-esque note (given that all that preceded it closely resembled a particularly mind-ruining nightmare).
The unambiguous mood of the album is one of disorientation and submerged horror and I was not at all surprised to later learn that the material was recorded along the English coast or that water was a deliberate inspiration. Temporal Bends is exactly the sort of music that I would expect to hear if I was rapidly losing consciousness in a pool of my own blood aboard a haunted submarine (a compliment I rarely give). This is an impressively ambitious, harrowing, and complex album.
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Supergroups rarely turn out to be all that super but when The Hidden Hand/Saint Vitus’ Wino, Om’s Al Cisneros, Neurosis’ Scott Kelly and Dale Crover of the Melvins announce that they are making an album together, it is hard not to be expectant of an earth-shattering collection of songs. While they are not earth-shattering, the pieces on this album certainly shake the patch of ground around my stereo. Shrinebuilder’s debut is by no means the best thing any of them have put their names to but the promise of something bigger lurks behind each of the songs featured here.
The oft repeated phrase “more than the sum of its parts” comes to mind listening to this album but in this case, “exactly the sum of its parts” is more fitting. Shrinebuilder may be the name on the sleeve but it could easily be The Hidden NeurOmVins too. While it is a good album, it does not sound like there was much exploration in the studio to come up with something more than a chimera of the foursome’s various other bands. However, considering the main recording session for the album only lasted three days it is impressive enough for them to come up with such a solid album when they could have either rested on their laurels and put out something very average or spent a long time in the studio coming up with something overegged and bloated like most so-called supergroups.
Throughout the album the music shifts its focus continually, sounding like each of the individual members’ day jobs. This shifting even occurs within songs such as in the initially Neurosis-like “Pyramid of the Moon” which gives way to ominous monk-like chants in the middle before developing an amazing groove. At this point Cisneros takes over at the mic to turn the song into a more fleshed out version of Om. “The Architect” is pure Wino, even when Kelly joins in on vocals. It sounds like the better parts of Wino’s recent solo album Punctuated Equilibrium. The only person who does not get much of a look-in is Crover. Granted his drumming is recognisable throughout (it would be a crime if he was there just to keep time) but little of his musical character is evident beyond the drums.
“Blind for All to See” is where Shrinebuilder finally comes together and begins sounding like a band who have been together for a long time. The more complex arrangement on this song hints at what the future might hold; its layered guitar explorations (not exactly solos) are hypnotic and expressive and they dance above a rhythm section that almost makes me weep with joy. Kelly takes the lead vocal, intoning the lyrics with a gravity that makes me sit up and pay attention. Should Shrinebuilder continue beyond this album and the few live dates that are currently planned, hopefully this is a prediction of what course they will take.
There is one caveat to this review: the last song of the album is not included on the promotional version of the album so I cannot be held responsible for it being a stinker but will claim responsibility if it is awesome.
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As the fourth in their long standing domestic activity collaboration series, Marhaug’s harsh noise penchant meets Ratkje’s nuanced and bizarre collaborative techniques to create an album of random cutup sounds, occasional harsh noise blasts, and everything plus the kitchen sink instrumentation that rivals the absurdity of the Schimpfluch Gruppe crew in the best possible way.
The opening title track makes the intent of the album known immediately, with squawking cut up sounds, wheezing, feedback, and what could be balloons being rubbed together.Lasse’s noise penchant is present, though reigned in to focus more on the collage sounds."Complaints Won’t Help" begins with randomly dialing through an antenna-less radio, which becomes a rudimentary noise loop to provide the rhythm.Above this, a full chorus of meowing cats becomes the focus of the track, providing the complaints referenced in the title.I have yet to audition this track for my own two feline terrors, but I’m expecting some confused faces.
Not to be exclusionary, "Call In The Dogs" literally lets the canines have their say, constant barking over fragments of music, piano banging, and cartoon sound effects.The cartoon sense continues into "Merry Go Round Circus In Town", which throws in some cartoon jazz stuff while adding in ringing bells and random electronic chaos.
"Sound Check" makes more concessions to traditional music than anything else here, opening with what sounds like the lost theme song to some 1970s game show, mixed with junk loops and flatulent white noise blasts before ending with actual "music" while people have conversations over it.
Marhaug seems to seize the reigns for the latter two tracks, infusing both with a greater sense of the harsh noise he is known for. "Stuck In The Roundabout" showcases his electronic shards of sound far more than the prior ones, but still allowing pieces of melody and the random cutup here and there to come in to mediate things.The closer "Like A Prayer" ups the ante with shrill, piercing squeals and overdriven bass frequencies, moderated a bit with cut up music and burbling sounds before falling apart into pure noise hell.
Having not heard the previous volumes of this collaborative series, the spastic randomness of what I’ve heard here makes me want to track those down.It has the sheer Dada of Sudden Infant and Komissar Hjuler & Mama Bar down quite well, but with a greater sense of composition, in the loosest definition of the word.It also is more than happy to infuse a good dose of old fashion noise into the weirder parts of the proceedings, which is a good combination.
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Some nine years into this millennium, this former Wire member has released his first album's worth of new material (Ordier was technically an archival release from 1996) just as the decade winds down and another begins anew. Here the sound harkens back more towards his earlier work for dance and installations rather than the full force electronic noise of In Esse or the more electronica based sounds of Ab Ovo.
Sequenced across three tracks, with two short (around four minute) pieces around a 26 minute centerpiece, Oblivio Agitatum is more of a dramatic work rather than just a collage of electronic music. The opening title track begins with pulsing low end oscillations that are almost metallic in nature, scraping along until they eventually lead into more subtle territory. The shift goes from the abrasive sounds of before into calm tones that were always there from the beginning, but obscured underneath the surface by the obtuse scraping textures.
The long "Zeros" begins with a mix of processed buzz over softly rolling tones, each ebbing and flowing to alternatingly dominate the mix, as some dynamic low frequency rumbles like thunder across the night sky. The track is constantly moving, with the occasional alien stab or crackle off in the deep dark night. A sense of industrial menace is omnipresent, with mechanical and digital ambient noises all around but never fully perceptible. Various electronic squeaks and groans rise to resemble some sort of foreign language that is imperceptible, but still trying to express something tangible. The second half of the piece is more sparse, pulling away the more domineering sounds to let the quiet ones rise, leaving pieces to sustain on and on that otherwise were not as clear. Gently rolling tones and meditative passages are more characteristic of the closing half of the track, contrasting the dense, alienating mix of the first part.
The closing "Isopyre" is more aquatic in its delivery while the prior piece was more astral. Burbling water and slowly drifting passages mimic the sounds of sinking in a deep, dark ocean with nothing but most faintest glimpses of light to illuminate the darkness around, the occasional rush of the oxygen tank calmly punctuating the abnormal with the reassuring sense of normalcy.
Oblivio Agitatum proves that even with his long silence, Bruce Gilbert is still an expert at shaping mini dramas and landscapes out of the raw clay of electronic music. While I’ve been a fan of essentially all of his solo work, it is here I am most reminded of his 1980s music for dance such as The Shivering Man or Insiding, which have always been among my favorites in his discography. It is a perfectly encapsulated sonic audio drama that is only too short in its duration.
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The idea of a journalist throwing a hat into the music creation and distribution business makes peers and fans alike cringe concerning the possibilities. Often the results are disastrous and quickly forgotten, yet here we stand face-to-face with Steve Lowenthal’s attempt at curating a series of acoustic guitar-based albums. Cleveland’s own Mark McGuire, renowned the synth world over for his work in Emeralds, is given a new and unique platform through VDSQ to show a different side of his creativity, and Solo Guitar Volume Two accomplishes just that.
Mark McGuire’s previous solo work has often followed the same path as his work within the trio of Emeralds: wide swatches of arching effects creating a blissful din of synth and barely recognizable guitar that coalesce into some unknown, yet familiar melody. It’s a talent that is hard to explain with a few hyperbolic adjectives but the phrase of the moment is hypnogogic pop or noise—neither of which does McGuire’s work service.
Solo Guitar Volume Two does not follow the same path as previous McGuire-involved releases. Rather, it’s a nearly stripped album of beautiful electro-acoustic tracks that not only deconstruct McGuire’s effects overload, but provide a deeper insight into his creative processes without textbook ennui or noticeable holes where John Elliot and Steve Hauschildt should fit.
Each side of the LP is a different glimpse into the creation process of McGuire. Side A falls in line with more traditional ragas and airs, finding McGuire delving into little to no effect in pursuit of guitar playing in its purest form. The three songs, “At First Sight,” “Vitamins,” and “Second Thoughts,” are bare—only McGuire’s energetic strumming. Some may be surprised at how poppy and full the sound is but the steely ringing of flesh striking string is a welcomed reprieve from McGuire’s indulgent loops and effect. Side B begins to delve into McGuire’s electronics, yet the results remain true to Side A’s stripped approach. “Front Porch” is a three minute flash in the pan, providing the necessary bridge between Solo Guitar Volume Two’s distinctive sides. Album closer “Burning Leaves” brings all of McGuire’s influences into a track of mammoth proportions, blending the electronic messes of Emeralds and McGuire’s previous solo recordings with building acoustic rhythms that bounce off each other, culminating in a track that reinvigorates the album and the acoustic guitar style with its simplicity among layered loops and delays.
McGuire captures the atmosphere in which he recorded and reproduces it in manners the din of Emeralds and previous solo material would never allow. Lowenthal’s stringed adventure is already paying off and I hope this isn’t the last time McGuire delves into the simpler sounds of guitar.
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Irmin Schmidt - Filmmusik Volume 4 & 5
Irmin Schmidt releases Filmmusik Anthology Vol 4 & 5 on Mute / Spoon this week.
A panoramic view of the CAN founder's soundtrack works over the last decade.
This double CD release, Filmmusik Anthology Vol 4 & 5, follows 1994's Anthology Soundtracks 1978 -1993 and contains a selection of Schmidt's works over the last 10 years for 20 different films for both the big screen and television. The anthology includes tracks from the critically acclaimed German TV series Bloch and Tatort and the award winning film Schneeland.
These pieces of music are a fascinating insight into the art of film score music from a veteran who has honed his craft masterfully over the years as well as being a wonderful album to just sit, relax and enjoy.
Filmmusik Anthology Vol. 4 & 5 also includes eight tracks from the original score of the latest Wim Wenders film, Palermo Shooting, which premiered in the Official Selection of the Cannes film festival 2008. The original film score is available digitally on Mute.
Irmin Schmidt has been commissioned by the Ludwigsburger Schlossfestspiele (Ludwigsburg Castle Festival) to present an evening of orchestrations of his work for film in summer 2010. A selection of pieces (some included on the album Filmmusik Anthology Vol 4 & 5) will be transcribed for orchestra and the concert will be conducted by the composer himself. This exclusive event is being organised in co-operation with the Baden-Würtemburg Film Academy. In addition Irmin Schmidt will be holding a series of workshops at the prestigious film school.
Limited signed copies available via Mute Bank
http://www.irminschmidt.com
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On December 8th, Trans Am will be releasing their first live album called "What Day Is It Tonight?" which chronicles their tours and music from 1993 through 2008. The DVD features a sets worth of songs from different shows spliced together with backstage footage and memories long forgotten (and recently unearthed). It also features two entire live sets. One from a very early Chapel Hill gig in 1993 and another from the 2004 Liberation tour in Heidelburg. This album will not be available on CD and is packaged together with the DVD and limited to 1,500 copies. Expect a NEW full-length in SPRING 2010!
"What Day Is It Tonight?" Album Track Listing:
01. Conspiracy of the Gods
02. Outmoder
03. Futureworld
04. Shrigley
05. Firepoker
06. Idea Machine
07. Positive People
08. First Words
09. June
10. Tesco v. Sainsbury's
11. Television Eyes
12. Slow Response
13. Play in the Summer
14. Köln
15. Don't Bundle Me
16. Simulacrum
17. City in Flames
"What Day Is It Tonight?" DVD Track Listing:
01. Extreme Measures
02. I Want It All
03. Stereo Situation
04. Prowler
05. Armed Response/Enforcer
06. Futureworld
07. Play in the Summer
Whole Live Sets:
Heidelburg 2004
Chapel Hill 1993
The touring experience can only be truly appreciated from a first-hand perspective so Nathan Means has helped shed light on what touring is really like. He's also provide us with a little history and some advice for those thinking about touring:
Set Up The Scene For Me. It's 1993. Why Start a Band?
Good question.
Um...We didn't really start playing together right then. That was earlier. But we did all live together in a real shit-shack in Chapel Hill that summer. Seb's room was infested with fleas. Phil and I worked at a cafeteria for minimum wage and minimum hours. We were broke. I started stealing cereal boxes and apples from work. Our landlord's dog, Ginger Snap, sometimes came over and stole tampons and condoms out of our garbage. It was hot. Seb became vegan. But we wrote the first Trans Am songs then and played our first live shows.
Advice: Start a band when you are young and have lots of time to waste. But remember that you are actually wasting it.
Where were these shows?
A frat house. It was summer and not many people were around. Fortunately, the keg was in the audience. I broke a bass string - E, the lowest, fattest string - on the first note of the first song. This is something I could never, ever do again if I tried. Also, my amp head blew up. I'm not sure how the other guys did.
Our second show was later that summer at a bar called The Cavern. Phil (age 20) got carded. I didn't drink because I was scared of getting carded.
When Was Your First Real Tour?
That was a self-booked loop into the Mid-West. I remember leaving the Pennsylvania Turnpike - always cause for celebration - and seeing a sign that said "Ohio and West." We are from the East Coast. I felt like a pioneer.
On that tour we drank a lot. We slept on filthy floors next to dried dishes of cat food and beer cans stuffed with cigarette butts. We played in basements and small clubs. In Detroit, while we sat on the front stoop of the club drinking, a big, insanely drunk guy wandered past us. He happened to be Native American, although Detroit has the potential to turn people of all ethnicities, religions, and races into fuck-ups.
Anyway, he started causing trouble and the guy from behind the bar jumped out with a baseball bat. I forget exactly what happened, but we ended up sitting on top of the guy waiting for the Wayne State University cops. They seemed to have a pretty good sense of humor - cynical but joking the whole time. I guess you gotta laugh if you're a cop in downtown Detroit. They ended up macing the guy and putting him in handcuffs.
Advice: Trading 10% or 15% of your show income for having someone book your tour is the best thing you'll ever do. Unless your booking agent is insane or a thief or forces you to open for bands you hate.
Where is Europe?
Somewhere past England...
Anyway, in winter of 1996 Tortoise were on a super-long, super-successful bus tour of Europe and they invited us to open for them. To them, I guess we were like a combination of slightly annoying little brothers and wind up toys. We were loud and they wanted to sleep. We got the remaining bunks near the toilet, which, predictably, was backed up and smelled and sounded exactly like several gallons of sloshing urine. Tortoise's soundman kept plying us with hash, which was really unnecessary.
One day, their tour manager asked to talk to me privately. I thought she was hitting on me, but actually she just wanted us to stop drinking all of Tortoise's beer while they were on stage.
Two of my remaining memories: After a show in Germany, I stuck my head out of the top of the bus and saw Dave Pajo - at the front of the bus - almost get decapitated by a traffic light. Then, before our show in London, we wondered around and got completely wasted because it was England and they have those cool pint glasses and it just seemed right. Our show was awesome - and everyone knew it.
Advice: That was our peak of popularity in London. Our next show was decimated in print by their hateful, inaccurate, but sometimes funny, music journalism machine. So enjoy it while you can.
What's Wrong With England?
When you drive around the country, every single town has birthed at least one band that you love. And that's the problem, too many bands. It's like being traded on a commodities market - nobody gives a shit about musicians and they get paid and treated accordingly.
In October 2001, we did a three-week tour of the UK and Ireland with The Champs. Our plane actually went right over the gaping hole and floodlights where the World Trade Tower had been. I love Indian food, beer, socialized medicine, and New Order but it's fair to say that Ireland was the highlight.
Advice: It turns out that "New England" was named after "England." OK. Now imagine a three-week tour of Connecticut and Massachusetts. OK. Now imagine that you're paying for everything on the tour in the rupees you made at your uncle's car wash outside of Mumbai. That's about right.
Is There Anything Good About England?
The crowds are good. Also, breakfast.
Once, when we used to light Seb's cymbals on fire, things got a little out of hand in Liverpool. The lighter fluid container itself caught on fire and then fell behind his kit. We could see it burning right next to some long, plush curtains and a power strip. Fortunately, we had lots of beer on stage, so we doused the fire without Seb even dropping a beat. When you're 27 and beer comes in that handy, it gives you a brief feeling of universal harmony.
Advice: The fact that Phil never burned his hands off while lighting Seb's cymbals on fire proves that lighter fluid isn't really that dangerous. I think we even flew with the container in our luggage a few times by mistake. It's completely safe.
What Do "Soundmen" Really Do?
Well, sometimes they just decide to sing and play out-of-tune keyboard over your show without telling you. Sometimes they fix your otherwise totally broken amp. Sometimes they are incredibly bummed out on your entire tour. Sometimes they tell the nagging promoter who is worried about the decibel limit, "Fuck off. I don't get paid to turn it down."
Advice: Soundmen/women are pretty important. Invest in a good one.
Why Do You Always Get into Fights With Each Other in Minneapolis?
There are a couple of theories. One is that, of course, there is some kind of negative spiritual vortex there. Like a site of harmonic divergence. The other, which seems pretty farfetched, is that no matter which way you are heading, Minneapolis is a long drive which either precedes or follows two super-long days of driving and you're just tired of everything - especially those unbelievable assholes you've been on the road with for three weeks.
Advice: You can't avoid Minneapolis, so just suck it up.
Why Do You Get Along So Well in the Southwest?
Lots of sun. Plus in Albuquerque, Seb, our soundman, and once I got pulled over by a bunch of cops and then individually ordered out of our van at gunpoint, handcuffed, Mirandized, and put in squad cars. Then we all had a big laugh when it turned out they wanted a different white van - except Seb, me and our soundman.
In Phoenix, we decided to leave a particularly sketchy Motel 6. There was a big party going on at 3 AM when we got there. I think it was basically an open-air drug market, but we didn't stick around to find out what they had.
While I was getting the cash refunded outside the night window, some big guy got out of his Camaro and repeatedly offered to kick my ass. It was the Futureworld tour - maybe he didn't like my Mexican Nike gold sweatsuit and hightops? Anyway, you got to play it cool down there and stick together.
How Many Times Have You Pissed Yourself on Stage?
Hard to say. It's the sort of thing where you hope your memory will be really spotty. More than once, less than 10, and not since 2000?
Advice: Keep beer or water around so you can pour it all over yourself as a cover-up. It's a lot more attractive than piss - which isn't saying much.
Remember When Seb Was Doing that GWAR Thing in Pittsburgh?
Yes. Seb was really sick and by the time we got to Carnegie Mellon, he ran straight to the bathroom. He had tried to re-hydrate with some sort of sports drink so his vomit was this perilous, almost radioactive shade of green. It was all over the floor. The bathroom looked like the set of an alien slasher flick.
Eventually, a university security officer came in. She looked at Seb and then asked calmly, "Is he the drummer?"
Anyway, Seb went to the hospital and we played with the drummer from Zombi, Tony, in a steeply terraced lecture hall.
When Can You Trust Airlines?
Only when they answer in the positive. When they say "No" - or especially when they cite "The Rules" - they are not being truthful. There are no rules. They are just being lazy or overworked - probably both. They could fix everything and charge you nothing if they really wanted to.
Advice: Just get past the ticketing counter. Those people are useless for everything but disputes over baggage charges. The real power lies with the gate attendants. They are magical.
Is Any International Border Less Pleasant Than America's?
Not so far.
However, Britain does deserve mention. Unlike the rest of the EU, they have work permits. Also, their border agents can be quite snooty and overzealous. Once, we had two young agents parading a bag of Seb's vegan protein powder around border control. I guess they thought we had just forgotten about that pound of heroin sitting on the floor of the van?
So they took apart our van - like unscrewed the door panels and such - while they ran some tests. Eventually, I was informed in a very grave manner that, "We've run several tests and one said 'well perhaps it is [drugs]' and one said 'probably not.' So we're giving you the benefit of the doubt." Then they asked for some posters or other promotional materials.
Also, the award for Single Most Intimidating Border Guard goes to "Serbian Guy." Thanks again for not shooting us, by the way.
Advice: Wear glasses. Cover all tattoos. In the US, always have a football clearly visible and hide Frisbees (hippy disks) and hacky sacks. Tell anyone who asks that you sound "sort of like ACDC." Don't mention acid jazz. Wipe your Facebook and Wikipedia entry of any drug references.
Why Don't More Famous People Come To Trans Am Shows?
It is surprising, but they probably wouldn't pay anyway.
At an early Thrill Jockey festival in New York, I remember "Fred" from the B-52s stepping over Seb doing push-ups backstage. He wasn't there for us and didn't seem excited that Seb was in his way.
I also remember an all-ages show we played with Braniac in LA where Mark Hamill's kid was hanging out with John Ritter's kid. That was sort of perfect. They were there for Braniac.
What Band is the Most Annoying to Tour With?
Depends what you mean. Is it annoying or funny when Six Finger Satellite kicks a stink bomb into the middle of your already tiny audience in Charlotte, NC? What about if later on they do a drive by - shooting bottle rockets out of PVC pipe - while you're carrying an 80-pound amp head? What about when a no-talent, cashing-in-on-her-name wanker like Kelley Deal call you out in St. Louis for being "stage hogs"?
Also, there's the question of blame. Is it Soul Coughing's fault that out of 1,500 people who politely watched us open for them in 1996, only one person bought a CD? Is it the Fucking Champs' fault that one of their guitarist's feet could stink up an entire room of sleeping guys? Is it Tortoise's fault that they all snore, thus earning the name "Snortoise"?
And really, who is being annoyed? We annoyed a lot of promoters by cashing in on an otherwise financially disasterous mid-December co-headlining tour of the Midwest with Har Mar Superstar. During a split bill with Don Caballero, our mere existence on stage seemed to antagonize the entire city of Cleveland as the Indians lost the World Series, but we were fine with it. Was it just annoying to Canadian border agents that someone traveling with Zombi tried to cross with an enormously small quantity of weed? They did lecture him that, "you can buy better weed here."
What's the Most Extreme Thing You Ever Did on Tour? Like, Have You Died?
Yes. Seb and I were once killed in Iceland. It was on the way to the airport. We later learned that the driver was really depressed because his mom had just died. He was coping in classic Nordic fashion by getting completely wasted (wasted even by Icelandic standards). Unfortunately, we didn't notice any of the warning signs - like when he asked us if we had any drugs for the 45 minute drive to the airport. It was snowing heavily and things got shaky and then we spun around in the middle of the highway a few times. I could see some oncoming headlights (the ones that had been behind us). Then that was it.
Fortunately, Tim Soete from The Champs was also in the car and he led us to an ancient taxi driver who kept his fingers just barely on the steering wheel and made constant incremental adjustments for the snow. So we were dead, but we didn't miss our flight.
Speaking of which, I successfully fought depression on the TA tour through regular doses of the Extreme Combination of Red Bull, Mountain Dew Code Red, and Vodka … and then any other uppers that were around.
Advice: It didn't really work. At nine in the morning after our final show, I was walking home in DC. I was asked to sign a petition. Then, later, I had a debilitating panic attack. It was a very strong effort, though.
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- Administrator
- Albums and Singles
For almost a quarter-century, Boredoms defined eclectic. Little said about them would hold up a few albums later. The band dashed expectations in a way that made even failed experiments seem exciting. Whatever they did, they did it weird; their genuine oddness was the thread that ran through their entire carrier. With their new EP, Super Roots 10, Boredoms break that tradition by relying on remixes to elevate weaker source material.
Despite its new prominence, remixing has already served as a vehicle for Boredoms’ restless experimentation. What’s new is that the actual band sounds conservative in comparison. This wasn’t a problem when group leader Yamataka Eye handled to majority of the remixes. His felt more like Boredoms songs than reinterpretations. Super Roots 10 deviates in that it comes padded with work by outside DJs. While this may be standard for dance and hip-hop singles, here the practice hurts the band; they are shown-up on their own record.
It is telling that the most bizarre moments on Super Roots 10 aren’t provided by Boredoms but by the Norwegian disco producer and DJ Lindstrom. His remix of the EP’s main track, “Ant 10,” supplies all the exciting but questionable experimentation that used to be expected from the band. The track is a ten-minute blown-out funk jam, complete with popping bass, synth-strings, and diva vocals. Despite Boredoms never dabbling in the genre (at least in its pure form), Lindstrom’s remix has the insane, slightly-stupid feeling that characterized the band’s best work from the early '90s. As a demonstration of Lindstrom’s skill, the track is fantastic, but it hurts the source material by making it look lackluster in comparison.
As for the track itself, “Ant10” is by no means the worst Boredoms have done. In fact, the sprawling nine-minute piece sums up their recent work well. The band’s rhythm section is still awe-inspiring, plunging listeners into torrential cymbal washes and cascading tom-tom rolls. Eye’s production work is still distinctive as well. He continues to arrange soothing electronic soundscapes out of even the most piercing tones, an alchemy as easy to enjoy as it is hard to grasp.
While the richness of their sound has not abated, Boredoms ability to express it in unexpected ways has. They haven’t made any drastic changes in style since Vision Creation Newsun back in 1999. This doesn’t necessarily pose any problems. Their formula, basically a drum-circle accompanied by chanting and spacey electronics, could support 10-20 more years of music making but this is a retreat from what Boredoms best typified: freewheeling provocateurs willing to take chances for the sake of staying vital.
Nevertheless, it is still tough to fault Boredoms for sticking with what works. They are arguably more popular than ever, judging by the flurry (by their standards) of touring and record reissues during the last few years. Regardless of how played-out their current style is, a return to the absurdism (or idiocy) of earlier works like Soul Discharge and Chocolate Synthesizer would also be a retreat.
Perhaps the biggest change for Boredoms has been the in the music world rather than band themselves. Now, countless bands trade in noise, kraut-rock, free-improv, and abstracted dance-music. To a large degree, they have Boredoms to thank for gathering a new audience for these genres during the reign of “alternative music” in the '90s. Back then, they could be counted on being among the most innovative bands working in avant-garde rock. As powerful as they still are, other artists have now taken up the challenge of innovating for them. While Super Roots 10 is adequate for a left-field DJ set, listeners wanting consciousness-raising power must look elsewhere.
samples:
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- Creaig Dunton
- Albums and Singles
When I first threw this 12" EP on the turntable I wasn’t sure what to expect. The cover art gave me twinges of pretentious freak folk, while something in my gut said it was going to be another stagnant piece of guitar drone. However, it is neither, and I was quite happily surprised by the unabashed noisy sludge rock that followed.
A three track EP clocking in at just over 20 minutes, the A side features two moderate length tracks, while the third is a longer, slow building piece of stoner sprawl. The slow droning feedback that opens "Skyling Slip" belies the balls out rocking that is about to follow, an overdriven bass and drum led track that picks up the pace rather quickly and falls into a noise rock groove. The sound bridges the LSD tinged rock of Loop with the THC laced riffs of old school Black Sabbath, and buries the whole thing in reverb thick enough to give a contact high. Through the Geezer Butler like bass melodies and the over-wah’d guitar soloing, there is a little hint of Hawkwind that pops up.
"Fever if Fire" slows down the pace, with a meditative pace that leans more on the space rock side of Naam’s sound, opening the mix to give breathing room, the distant vocals giving it more of a '70s rock sheen. The flip-side is the 11 minute "Kingdom," which begins with rudimentary bass playing and twangy guitar soloing that gives way to distant, Ozzy-esque vocals. The pace changes a few times, but the track gets locked into a very looped/repetitive sound, which is exasperated by the mantra like vocals.
This is one of those pleasant little surprises that I ended up enjoying more than I had expected. While this might be the absolute archetype for "stoner rock," it is executed in such a way that any lack of innovation doesn’t matter. It doesn’t do anything different, but it does the same things very well.
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- Creaig Dunton
- Albums and Singles
One look at the sleeve of this 7" gives a good indication of what to expect. Being a 45rpm disc with 17 tracks total, it’s a good bet that the song list is really irrelevant. Upon listening, it is pretty much impossible (and unnecessary) to know where the tracks begin and end. But one thing is sure, it is a metallic grindcore blastbeat noise assault.A Dear Girl Called WendyThere is little difference notable between the A and B sides here. Both feature Spacek as a trio, consisting of stalwarts John Wiese on electronics and Corydon Ronnau on vocals, with Charlie Mumma on drums. Mumma delivers blasts that sound more like machine guns than snare drums, on the second half especially pounding out some mechanized beats, which goes well with Wiese’s electronics, which more closely resemble the sounds at a metal recycling factory than anything else. Ronnau’s vocals are rather low in the mix, but are the expected guttural jibber-jabber for the genre, though they sound somewhat more processed on the b-side.
In the end, Epistasis is more along the lines of early Napalm Death or Agoraphobic Nosebleed taken to the n-th degree. What little traditional musicality from those acts has been thoroughly excised, and what remains is the detritus of voice and rhythm that one hears lingering after a massive blow to the head. Which is a good thing.
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