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While Japan may have birthed some of the most elegant and elegiac experimental rock of this decade so far, it has also seen a rise in acts that tear massive holes in speakers and fry amp cables. Taking this disc as evidence, this trio of Yamamoto Seiichi (Boredoms), Tatsuya Yoshida (Ruins), and Tsuyama Atsushi (Acid Mothers Temple) appear in the latter category. Few bands can safely combine the excitement of rock while negotiating the worlds of traditional music and out-there wig outs.
Where there last album, Close to the RH Kiki, saw them progged up to the hilt with covers, this is a set of six wired for nosebleed originals. The first two tracks race along in a bonged up jam session style, all gangly limbs and pruned Afros, into lurching progressive funk territory. There are several bumpy side routes roads taken through ecstatic soloing and enthusiastic wailin’ and a hollerin’. It doesn’t take long before the trio gel, spitting out tight high harmonies and spacey reverb amongst the choppy guitar playing.
Things get a little odder with "Elsewhere" with the introduction of piano, cracked betamax electrics and flute. This falling downstairs vibe strips itself back to washboard percussion and a wordless operatic section ending, finally throttling itself in a punk funk thing. "Nowhere" follows this route, split between Japanese folk and balls outside of trousers rocking. Bizarrely, there are moments here that slip into textbook Red Hot Chili Peppers sound before finding synth horns and a drunken marching band sound. The further you get into the LP, the more there is to find, there’s even a tip of the hat to Hendrix’s "Star-Spangled Banner." Ruinzhatova are constantly moving.
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Singer/songwriter Alex Lukashevsky has a decent gravelly voice and his tongue-in-cheek lyrics are frequently entertaining, which makes it all the more disappointing that these hints of potential go unfulfilled on this album.
Many of the tracks betray stilted songwriting, with changes that feel arbitrary. In addition, much of his guitar playing seems hesitant, and the vocal melodies frequently don’t go well with the music. He has a husky voice that’s often easy on the ears, but he sings in the same way so often on these tracks that even that asset becomes an irritation. Sometimes Lukashevsky adds other instruments to the mix, like a xylophone or a keyboard, yet these usually don’t contribute very much.
One of the better tracks is the odd cover of Verdi’s "La Donna È Mobile" with a fuller arrangement compared to Lukashevsky’s own material, but this song is out of place on a somewhat folky, guitar-based album. The other songs are slow in comparison, if not stagnant. About half-way through the disc, I started getting annoyed with his voice and couldn’t help but feel that a lot of these tracks are incomplete or rushed. "Terror of Compassion" is a decent acoustic white boy blues until Lukashevsky rhymes "compassion" with "passion," leaving the song little credibility. One of the more palatable tracks is "Butterknife Night" with its delicate windchimes adding a nice texture, but the effect is too undifferentiated and at almost nine minutes long loses its appeal. On "I Gotta Right," Lukashevsky sings, "I got a right/To sing the blues," but that doesn’t mean anyone needs to hear him do so.
He does have talent, but here it’s too unfocused to have much value.
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The new album from Norway's Kaada is the perfect soundtrack for break-ups, homesickness, or rainy day navel-gazing. Since there isn't that much going on that commands attention, it's an album that's not distracting during moments of introspection.
Even though the group has a variety of orchestral instruments at their disposal, their statements are more atmospheric than melodic. Voices are used infrequently, but when they do show up, they usually accent the song with wordless pitches rather than lyrics. One of the few exceptions is "Mainstreaming," light fare which adapts words from the Ninth Century Moslem poet Sidna Ali. I can't argue that the music isn't played well, yet nothing about the album strikes me as distinctive or alluring. There's a sameness found on most of the tracks that makes them individually forgettable even as they contribute to the album's singular mood of general sadness. Beyond that, the specifics are difficult to determine, as if the group tries to encompass a few additional emotions within each song but fails to encapsulate the song's true intention.
I'm also a little confused about the "moviebiker" in the title because there's certainly nothing in the music remotely rebellious along the lines of The Wild One or Easy Rider. In fact, the album's so tame that I could safely play any of the tracks for my grandmother. Who knows, she might even enjoy songs like "The Mosquito and the Abandoned Old Woman" or "Retirement Community" more than I did. In a way, this album is like musical cotton candy. Despite some passages of delicate sweetness, these moments are too ephemeral to register and leave me with an earful of fluff.
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This live recording from 1999 features Oren Ambarchi on guitar and Robbie Avenaim on percussion. Originally released in a small quantity as a 3” disc that same year, this single track is an 18-minute improvisation that isn’t too far from a clock that winds up and then springs apart, exposing the underbelly of gears and sprockets that keep it functioning.
The song begins and ends with a gong, imposing symmetry on the structure not found elsewhere within the piece. The first half of the song belongs mostly to Ambarchi with its pulsating drones and overtones. Avenaim’s percussion, apart from the gong, consists of metallic pitches ringing from a variety of objects. The beginning is a little static, but the song gets stronger as it progresses, picking up the pace about halfway through with more rattling from Avenaim. Here the duo strikes a perfect balance, not necessarily reacting to each other’s playing so much as contributing to the same clattering, mechanical impulse. As the percussion gets tuneful, the song grows more intriguing, culminating in a climax determined to disrupt time itself. The latter half in particular makes me wish I could have seen this performance, and wondering what other blissful moments I may have missed.
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Mouse On Mars was back to the core duo of Jan and Andi, performing a set reminiscent of the first time I saw them live probably about ten years ago. Singer/drummer Dodo was on hiatus ("on assignment" as the newscasts always claim) and what remained was two guys bopping around on some killer modular gear, making fun beats and mangling noises into a polyrhythmic soup that even the experimental/noise geeks were digging. (Keith Whitman claims to have seen me dancing but I'll deny it under oath.)
For years the duo have been charting the more pop side of electronica, using vocals and live drumming to make song collections which had easily extractable tunes for commercial ambitions (see "Blood Comes" from Radical Connector or "Actionist Respoke" from Idiology). Varcharz, on the other hand is a lot more raw, free-flowing, and strings all nine songs together in a way that's difficult to pull apart. Stylistically, the album switches back and forth between the more abstract and the more accessible, with the opener electronic mayhem of "Chartnok" and the thrashing chunky "Düül" surrounded by the sexy groove of "Igoegowhygowego" and candy factory rhythms of "Inocular." "Skik" is built on what could easily be Atari video game music, exploited and repurposed before the alien disco known as "Hi Fienlin" muscles its way in. "Bertney" is the tuneful masterpiece however that I think will please any fan of classics like "Frosch" but the two songs that follow, "Ratphase" and "One Day, Not Today" are pretty wacked out, both on the weirder side of their spectrum.
While I love this record, in all honesty it's probably not one I'd play for one of my more mainstream co-workers to try and get them to one of their shows. For fans it's a great representation of their live sound and a good document for when they play and somebody comes up and says "hey, do you have any records that sounds like what I heard tonight?" Rather than go into lengthy explanations, they can easily hand them Varcharz now.
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Artist: rivulets
Title: "you are my home"
Label: Important records
Date: November 28, 2006
www.rivulets.net
www.importantrecords.com
Details below...
YOU ARE MY HOME
by RIVULETS
> 1. Featured Artists
Nathan Amundson aka RIVULETS: acoustic guitars, piano, voice
Jessica Bailiff (Kranky records): bells, electric guitars, mellotron
Chris Brokaw (Codeine, Come, the New Year): drums, electric guitar
Christian Frederickson (Rachel's): viola
Fred Lonberg-Holm (Boxhead Ensemble): cello
Brian John Mitchell (Silber records): greenhouse construction
Bob Weston (Mission of Burma, Shellac): bass, beats, piano, trumpet
All songs & arrangements by Nathan Amundson, ? & (p) 2005 rivulets (BMI)
Recorded & mixed by Bob Weston at Electrical Audio, Chicago, IL
> 2.Track Listing
1. glass houses
2. can't i wonder
3. you are my home
4. heartless
5. motioning
6. greenhouse
7. win or lose
8. to be home
9. you sail on
10. happy ending
11. morning light
> 3.Overview
Long-delayed 3rd album by internationally acclaimed solo artist RIVULETS.
Featuring guests Jessica Bailiff (Kranky), Chris Brokaw (Codeine, Come,
the New Year), Christian Frederickson (Rachel's), Fred Lonberg-Holm
(Boxhead Ensemble), & Bob Weston (Mission of Burman, Shellac).
Rivulets' first 2 full-length albums, "r i v u l e t s" (2002) and
"DEBRIDEMENT" (2003), were both recorded by Alan Sparhawk of Low, and
released on Low's own label Chair Kickers' Union. These albums feature
guest appearances from the likes of Jessica Bailiff (Kranky), LD Beghtol
(the Magnetic Fields), Jon DeRosa (Aarktica), Marc Gartman (No Wait Wait),
Brian John Mitchell (Remora), Aaron Molina (if thousands), and Mimi Parker
(Low).
Extensive touring overseas has garnered Rivulets intensely loyal fanbases
across Europe. We're hoping this, Rivulets 1st album on Important
records, will help the US to take notice as well. A few of the artists
Rivulets has shared bills with in the past include: Haley Bonar, Chris
Brokaw, Cerberus Shoal, Cocorosie, Mark Eitzel, Daniel Johnston, Low,
Mirah, My Morning Jacket, the New Year, Scout Niblett, Piano Magic, Radar
Bros., Stars of the Lid, Songs: Ohia, Swearing at Motorists, Willard Grant
Conspiracy, Shannon Wright, and Xiu Xiu.
Rivulets' discography also includes numerous compilation appearances and
several EPs: the aforementioned "thank you reykjavik" EP on BlueSanct;
"the Alcohol EPs" on Silber; the "rivulets / marc gartman" split CD
(featuring Jarboe of SWANS) on Tract; and the "you've got your own" EP on
Acuarela (incidentally the bestselling EP Acuarela have released,
out-selling EPs by the Album Leaf, the Clientele, and Tara Jane O'Neil).
This is not a folk album. This is an album about hearts breaking, tearing
it down, and moving on.
> 4. Selling Points
Featuring guests Jessica Bailiff (Kranky), Chris Brokaw (Codeine, Come,
the New Year), Christian Frederickson (Rachel's), Fred Lonberg-Holm
(Boxhead Ensemble), & Bob Weston (Mission of Burman, Shellac).
Recorded & mixed by Bob Weston at (Steve Albini's studio) Electrical
Audio, Chicago, IL
Gorgeous package design featuring photography by reknowned French
photographer Laurent Orseau
Rivulets is cited as an influence by a new crop of young artists,
including Heller Mason and Jamie Barnes, both of whom have covered
Rivulets songs on record.
Well-known Rivulets fans include Antony (who came backstage in Spain to
compliment Nathan on how "diabolical" Rivulets' performance had been);
Iceland's beloved ??rir, Germany's "future soul" diva Clara Hill, the
UK's Pantaleimon (collaborator of David Tibet / Current 93), and
Jamie Stewart of Xiu Xiu, who personally brought this album to the
attention of Important when it was looking for a home. (Oh yeah I guess
everyone who plays on the record too, of course, or they wouldn't be doing
it?)
Outside of his work in Rivulets, Nathan Amundson is a frequently called on
as a collaborator, with credits on records by Annelies Monser?, Jessica
Bailiff, if thousands, Pale Horse & Rider, Remora, and Vlor. Visit the
discography page at rivulets.net for complete info:
http://www.rivulets.net/discography.html
Rivulets' official website: www.rivulets.net will undergo a complete
re-design for the launch of this album. Find more on Rivulets at
rivulets.net
Selected Discography:
you've got your own, 2004 Acuarela Discos CDEP
rivulets / marc gartman, 2004 Tract Records CDEP
DEBRIDEMENT, 2003 Chair Kickers' Union full-length CD
The Alcohol EPs, 2002 Silber Records CDEP
thank you reykjavik, 2002 BlueSanct CDEP
r i v u l e t s, 2002 Chair Kickers' Union full-length CD
> 5. Key Markets:
All major US cities please.
> Hometown:
Anchorage, AK
> Also:
Bloomington, IN
Seattle, WA
Chicago, IL
> 6. Press quotes:
"Often driven only by voice or quiet guitar, Rivulets is frighteningly
gentle, yet genuinely powerful. The brooding love songs of Mark Kozelek's
Red House Painters are an apt comparison, as are the acute, windswept
soundscapes of Iceland's Sigur Ros. Most often, the music suggests the
isolation and odd beauty found at the center of an iced-over lake in the
middle of winter." - All Music Guide
"Four stars ["DEBRIDEMENT"]. Amundson's songs may occasionally make Nick
Drake sound full o' beans, but their forlorn, otherworldly beauty is
seldom less captivating." - Mojo, UK (2003)
"Residing in a hazy singer-songwriter space somewhere between Nick Drake
and Red House Painter Mark Kozelek, Rivulets' is the work of one Nathan
Amundson." - Mojo, UK (2002)
"Think of the hazy grace of Low, the heartrending honesty of Will Oldham
and the songcraft of Nick Drake and you understand it's hard for me not to
give this one my wholehearted recommendation." - the Broken Face
"Realistically, Nathan Amundson (Rivulets) should have put out a record
with at least one bad song by now. He hasn't." - the Brain
"...a shining gem of introspective modern ethereal folk." - Outburn
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There are only so many manipulated found sound albums that I can give my time to in life. Many artists in this realm are poor at best and their music isn’t worth the discs that it’s pressed on. This album from Chris Herbert stands head and shoulders over all these pretenders. Landscapes more than soundscapes, the music on Mezzotint is dreamy and rolls around the room like a ghost.
Kranky
Mezzotint appears to be made up of many found sounds shoved through a load of delay followed by more delay. All of the pieces have a deep, resonant drone running through them. Pops, glitches and snippets of the source material emerge throughout the album. It is similar to most of Fennesz’s work but Herbert builds a better atmosphere and is less clinical sounding. It takes a few tracks for Mezzotint to get into the swing of things but once it gets going it is beautiful. "Suashi" expands on the techniques used earlier in the album (drones and glitches) with more aleatory noise and a very low and very slow bass pulse.
There are some less than stellar pieces on this album; "Stab City" and a couple of the untitled pieces don’t do much for me. However, they fit with the rest of the album. On their own I could take or leave them but the album feels incomplete without them. They set the scene for the tracks that are later in the album such as the fabulous "Cassino." It has a glassy sound with bells and watery noises generating a delicate mood and of course the thick but not heavy drone that Herbert uses pretty much all the time. The piece is long but evolves slowly to an almost crystal clear section of the recording of the bell sounds (which sound like a glockenspiel when listened to without all the noise in the way). It finishes off the piece perfectly. In lesser hands this album could be boring but Herbert pulls it off. Even on the track entitled "Let’s Get Boring!" he keeps it interesting. Not much happens in this piece but the overlapping drones sound like crashing waves, there is a natural quality to the heavily processed sound that makes it a joy to listen to.
Despite a rocky start this is a wonderful album. I particularly like the hollow, distant feel to much of the sound. The way Herbert uses echo makes huge segments of the music sound so far away which highlights the tinkering he does in the foreground. This wouldn’t be the best ambient music I’ve heard but it is a damn sight better than the majority of rubbish pushed out at the moment where any hack with a laptop and an hour of free time can make an ambient record.
[Note: the track listing on the back of the album is confusing (and the sleeve itself isn’t that nice to look at, it’s a horrible queasy brown color). There are seven pieces listed but there are 12 tracks on the CD. A little web investigation gives the track numbers corresponding to the titles, the rest presumably being untitled.]
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Intended for release on a tour that was ultimately cancelled, this unique collaboration between the Hafler Trio, Colin Potter, and Andrew Liles is a strange expedition into frost-bitten realms. Siren-like, the intoxicating lure of unraveling mysteries impels further descent into its cavernous depths, with little hope of return.
The album begins with "False Soap," which has shifting high-pitches that extend the horizon before they’re crossed by low strings and faint rhythm. It's punctured in the middle by warped keys and voices, ending with weird loops and liquid flights. On its heels, "Sticky Tin," has subtle waves, washes and percolations that take turns running across the stereo field, not panning left and right so much as circling the head. Similarly, the group’s "Bloody Two Wrists" wrap around the skull as a metallic mist, with gongs battling back and forth through the ears. "Going to Work" is like a glacial chorus of angelic voices tunneling ever deeper into an Antarctic ice shelf on this epic journey of nearly twenty-four minutes, the largest continent centering the album. In contrast, the untitled track that follows consists only of a brief, deafening klang! before it moves along. After this point, the album becomes more active than the beginning, relying less on ambient tones and shifting sonic fields and instead utilizing unusual textures.
Accompanied by a lot of ringing bass, and slowed, fractured voices, "Eggs Benedict" sizzles as it tries to rip the seams off of time itself. "Of Feminine Proportions" has a conniving underbelly that builds into a hive-like finale. Probably my favorite track on the album is its last, "Existing on an Aquatic Theme." The theme of the title is exemplified by looped vocals that sound like broken mechanical owls floating back and forth across the song’s surface, tethered by a rusty, high pitch, and buoyed by reverberating bass smudges.
The disc’s many nuances really come alive with undivided attention, and because of this it’s not the sort of album to play in the background while doing other things. Although it’s too bad that this tour didn’t happen, thankfully this artifact survived in its place. Not only is it a thrilling hint of what might have been, it’s also a remarkable and intriguing document on its own.
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Secretly Canadian
"Don't Fade On Me" might be the sonic antithesis to "The Dark Don't Hide It." It begins the album on a quiet note, a lament that strolls more than it attempts to break down any walls. Despite the fact that What Comes After Blues had a number of beautiful, inward-bound moments, the production and emphasis on that album was the presence of sound and on Fading Trails the band makes sure that the opposite is true. All of these songs play with the spaces in between the notes, allowing tension, rhythm, and simple grooves drive the music. The guitars aren't as prominent as before on some songs. Pianos and Molina's voice often take the lead, small details emerging in the music when the two breathe more than they exhale (as on "The Old Horizon"). Anyone who heard the free download of "Lonesome Valley" (from this album) will know that there was a simpler focus on this record, the instrumentation becoming full when it needs to, but also laying off when Molina's attitude and strong voice demand to be up front and center.
Some of Molina's solo work has bled into the Magnolia recordings this time, with songs like "A Little At a Time" exhibiting the sort of desolation that makes a Molina record so appealing. It's as though the band has found a way to strike a happy medium between the first Magnolia album and What Comes After the Blues. I miss the overtly country themes that crept out on that first album, but the band invokes the same feelings those songs stirred up by keeping the music simple, memorable, and less controlled. The breathing room this provides also conjures up some ghosts, Molina playing with styles more and turning out some truly haunting moments. "The Old Horizon" might be one of my favorite songs from Magnolia Electric Co. and it certainly stands out on this record; the song is as barren as they come, resonating more than any song on the album. It forces the other songs to rotate about it as though it were a strange black hole on the record where everything gets swallowed up. On it, Molina reawakens some of his mystical imagery to draw connections between disparate thoughts or ideas. It works on two levels, as an expressionistic and breathtaking harmony between lyrics and music, but also thematically. "The Old Horizon" is slowly disappearing, becoming more impossible to capture; with it the album changes course.
The use of keyboards, acoustic guitar, electric stabs, and the circular, swirling melodies on "Talk To Me Devil, Again" create a strange blend of reflective and swaggering music. It's as though the melancholy on the album can't stand still because it's too drunk and busy daydreaming to realize it's sad. The entire second half of the album practically bathes in this feeling of simultaneous sadness and joy, sounding as though it was written as a process or a way of recognizing the joy in overcoming some difficulty. Then again, the album ends with "Steady Now." The song begins and Molina sings, "Everything in it's place, the world does have to end in pain." I'm instantly reminded of Songs:Ohia and "Cross the Road, Molina." The mood is perfect and the acoustic guitar seems to carry a weight with it that its size and shape shouldn't be able to lift. Nonetheless, there's a certain pessimism that this song leaves me with, as though the Fading Trails of the title are fading for everyone. "The world does have to go in pain / Oh steady now / Everything in it's place / Steady now" and then the album ends. There's no way to listen to this record and not have it weighing on me later. It sticks to my mind and appeals to my heart just as much.
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While "Pass the Hatchet,..." isn't reminiscent of Krautrock, I do feel a similar affinity to a good Neu jam: it's got a great hook, a chugging rhythm, and feels comfortable and right at being long for a rock song. Vocals are raw and low in the mix, creating an enjoyable conflict with the instruments while wailing guitar solo action provides ample fill for when there's no words. Its counterpart, the long closer "The Story of Yo La Tengo" is almost as promising, and while I do appreciate the build it's almost too Sonic Youth worshipping and doesn't have the same hook or appeal as the opener did. It, like the 13 songs that separate each suffer from a lack of as much drive or energy as the opener and are full of blaise chord progressions and boring vocals.
"Beanbag Chair" feels like a trite indie rock cliche, "Mr. Tough" creepily strikes me as the only rhythm any stuffy NPR host will groove to this year, the post-exotica organ-heavy "The Room Got Heavy" has been done better by Stereolab numerous times over, and "Watch Out For Me Ronnie" is just a sort of insincere punk tribute with embarassingly painful guitar riffs. I actually don't have much of a problem with the ballads like "Black Flowers," or the Georgia-sung "I Feel Like Going Home," as they're far more compelling listens than the upbeat songs, creating enough of a conflict with the rocking tunes. The ballads like "The Weakest Part" and "Song for Mahlia," however, easily put me to sleep.
Yo La Tengo are good songwriters and have come up with some of my favorite tunes, but I have yet to be won over by any of their albums as a while. I do feel that they often fail at quality control: nurturing 8-9 songs into something great on the is always worth more for my tastes than throwing together 15 songs of mixed quality.
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