I'll never forget the first time I saw Love and Rockets live. I was a teenager and the clash of psychedelia, black leather, loud guitars and pumping beats was as sexy as it was cool. I'll also never forget the last time I saw Love and Rockets live. A new album was out but the feverish energy seemed such a thing of the past. They felt like they were reluctantly performing their older songs. The closing remark will always stick in my mind: "Buy our albums so we can keep doing this." Maybe the band thinks that Lift was some of their best material, but they haven't convinced me yet.I'll never forget the first time I saw Love and Rockets live. I was a teenager and the clash of psychedelia, black leather, loud guitars and pumping beats was as sexy as it was cool. I'll also never forget the last time I saw Love and Rockets live. A new album was out but the feverish energy seemed such a thing of the past. They felt like they were reluctantly performing their older songs. The closing remark will always stick in my mind: "Buy our albums so we can keep doing this." Maybe the band thinks that Lift was some of their best material, but they haven't convinced me yet.
Thrill Jockey
This is a record imbued with a kind of subtle beauty that I've simplynot heard in a long time. I've never paid much attention to Mouse onMars and my experience with this album was akin to my first experiencewith Sonic Youth; multiple listens reveal multiple dimesions of soundand with each listen the music becomes more and more enjoyable. Glamwas originally released as a limited edition vinyl in 1998 and wasintended to the be the soundtrack to a movie about love and drugs;appropriately the music is claustraphobic, hazy, and joyous. Denselayers of amorphous sound creep about the air like a fine mist; this ismusic that can be breathed in, it leaves a shiny dew on my skin afterI've listened to it. "Port Dusk" starts things off on an almostbeatless level and weaves a blanket with warm peals of sound andunwavering showers of heavy drones. There are beats throughout most ofthe album and many of them force my foot to tap and my head to back andforth, but the rhythms are almost subliminal. They more or less form aperfect seam with the short stabs of melody and robust undercurrentsthat run beside them. "Flim" and "Tiplet Metal Plate" are twonoticeable and exceptional anomalies. "Flim" is a plain ofrhythm-driven butterflies that meander about carelessly while "TipletMetal Plate" is more akin to a hammer falling on and through my skull;it's a punchy, schizophrenic, and completely ecstatic kick to the face.The bonus tracks included are completely hit and miss. "Snap Bar" is aworm-filled endurance test that simply goes nowhere while "Pool, Smoothand Hidder" is a rolling sonic highway and "Heizchase Nailway" feelslike an undulating mass consuming everything in its path. The last twoaren't bad, but when they're taken out of the mix and Glam islistened to in its original form, the album seems to have a more fluidcontinuity that makes it more enjoyable. These are minor complaints,however.
This is a record imbued with a kind of subtle beauty that I've simplynot heard in a long time. I've never paid much attention to Mouse onMars and my experience with this album was akin to my first experiencewith Sonic Youth; multiple listens reveal multiple dimesions of soundand with each listen the music becomes more and more enjoyable. Glamwas originally released as a limited edition vinyl in 1998 and wasintended to the be the soundtrack to a movie about love and drugs;appropriately the music is claustraphobic, hazy, and joyous. Denselayers of amorphous sound creep about the air like a fine mist; this ismusic that can be breathed in, it leaves a shiny dew on my skin afterI've listened to it. "Port Dusk" starts things off on an almostbeatless level and weaves a blanket with warm peals of sound andunwavering showers of heavy drones. There are beats throughout most ofthe album and many of them force my foot to tap and my head to back andforth, but the rhythms are almost subliminal. They more or less form aperfect seam with the short stabs of melody and robust undercurrentsthat run beside them. "Flim" and "Tiplet Metal Plate" are twonoticeable and exceptional anomalies. "Flim" is a plain ofrhythm-driven butterflies that meander about carelessly while "TipletMetal Plate" is more akin to a hammer falling on and through my skull;it's a punchy, schizophrenic, and completely ecstatic kick to the face.The bonus tracks included are completely hit and miss. "Snap Bar" is aworm-filled endurance test that simply goes nowhere while "Pool, Smoothand Hidder" is a rolling sonic highway and "Heizchase Nailway" feelslike an undulating mass consuming everything in its path. The last twoaren't bad, but when they're taken out of the mix and Glam islistened to in its original form, the album seems to have a more fluidcontinuity that makes it more enjoyable. These are minor complaints,however.
Beta-Lactam Ring
If anyone could make something as dry and academic as Musique Concrêteinto intense, ferociously sexy ear candy, it would have to be PeterCristopherson and John Balance. This release is the duo's contributionto Beta-Lactam Ring Records' terrific Lactamase series: a subscriptionseries of twelve 10" vinyl records by some of today's best andbrightest underground, avant-garde and esoteric musical projects. Theseries has included some amazing releases from Edward Ka-Spel, Volcanothe Bear and Tony Conrad, but the most highly anticipated release iscertainly Coil's masterful grand finale to the series. Coil's two-sided10" occupies a unique place in their discography. It is a trulyawe-inspiring tangent into the rarefied realm of musique concrêteabstractionists such as Iannis Xenakis, Tod Dockstader and Luc Ferrari.There has always been an element of these musical progenitors in Coil'smusick, but their penchant for structured, vocal-driven "songs" haveprevented them from ever fully engaging their abstruse tendencies. Bothsides of the 10" use the same basic sounds and techniques, but thesculpturing takes different forms on either side. Side A, or "TheRestitution of Decayed Intelligence I," introduces the sound palette: achorus of digital buzzes, stutters and skips that occupy the soundfieldat different pitches and volumes. This music is very dimensional,seeming to fly into one's ears at a myriad of different angles. Soon,the high-end stutters are joined by a series of quasi-rhythmic metallicthrobs, like the alternating whirr of a flying saucer engine. Theseelements are then edited, overdubbed and sculpted into dramaticconvergences of sound that alternately pierce, arouse and frighten. Somany faintly recognizable sounds can be heard in this midst of theseabstractions, but the listener cannot discern which are placed thereintentionally and which are an accident of subjectivity. A chorus ofbone saws, a squeaking hinge, high-pitched shrieking, a mutated voice,swooping metallic shards, granular static: all of these sounds sneakout of the noise over the course of the piece. Side B, or "TheRestitution of Decayed Intelligence II," uses the same set of auralphenomena, but this time snatches of recognizable melody become obviousas the piece unfolds. Jhon Balance's warped vocal hiccups from tracktwo of The Remote Viewer are re-used, albeit in a completelyinscrutable form, sounding like a swarm of bees frantically trying tocommunicate with the human race. Halfway through, there is a shockingincrease in volume and intensity as the piece gains momentum. It ishere that we see Coil's personality come through; this piece, howeverchaotic, has the same epic sweep as their Love's Secret Domain-era acidhouse excercises, and all of the dark, hedonistic atmosphere. This 10"manages to be both a brilliantly mature dip into abstract electronicmusic, and twisted, uber-Pagan ritual musick. After more than 20 years,Coil is still perfectly balancing this strange dichotomy and creatingsomething wholly unexpected and wonderful with each new release. -
If anyone could make something as dry and academic as Musique Concrêteinto intense, ferociously sexy ear candy, it would have to be PeterCristopherson and John Balance. This release is the duo's contributionto Beta-Lactam Ring Records' terrific Lactamase series: a subscriptionseries of twelve 10" vinyl records by some of today's best andbrightest underground, avant-garde and esoteric musical projects. Theseries has included some amazing releases from Edward Ka-Spel, Volcanothe Bear and Tony Conrad, but the most highly anticipated release iscertainly Coil's masterful grand finale to the series. Coil's two-sided10" occupies a unique place in their discography. It is a trulyawe-inspiring tangent into the rarefied realm of musique concrêteabstractionists such as Iannis Xenakis, Tod Dockstader and Luc Ferrari.There has always been an element of these musical progenitors in Coil'smusick, but their penchant for structured, vocal-driven "songs" haveprevented them from ever fully engaging their abstruse tendencies. Bothsides of the 10" use the same basic sounds and techniques, but thesculpturing takes different forms on either side. Side A, or "TheRestitution of Decayed Intelligence I," introduces the sound palette: achorus of digital buzzes, stutters and skips that occupy the soundfieldat different pitches and volumes. This music is very dimensional,seeming to fly into one's ears at a myriad of different angles. Soon,the high-end stutters are joined by a series of quasi-rhythmic metallicthrobs, like the alternating whirr of a flying saucer engine. Theseelements are then edited, overdubbed and sculpted into dramaticconvergences of sound that alternately pierce, arouse and frighten. Somany faintly recognizable sounds can be heard in this midst of theseabstractions, but the listener cannot discern which are placed thereintentionally and which are an accident of subjectivity. A chorus ofbone saws, a squeaking hinge, high-pitched shrieking, a mutated voice,swooping metallic shards, granular static: all of these sounds sneakout of the noise over the course of the piece. Side B, or "TheRestitution of Decayed Intelligence II," uses the same set of auralphenomena, but this time snatches of recognizable melody become obviousas the piece unfolds. Jhon Balance's warped vocal hiccups from tracktwo of The Remote Viewer are re-used, albeit in a completelyinscrutable form, sounding like a swarm of bees frantically trying tocommunicate with the human race. Halfway through, there is a shockingincrease in volume and intensity as the piece gains momentum. It ishere that we see Coil's personality come through; this piece, howeverchaotic, has the same epic sweep as their Love's Secret Domain-era acidhouse excercises, and all of the dark, hedonistic atmosphere. This 10"manages to be both a brilliantly mature dip into abstract electronicmusic, and twisted, uber-Pagan ritual musick. After more than 20 years,Coil is still perfectly balancing this strange dichotomy and creatingsomething wholly unexpected and wonderful with each new release. -
Important
There are certain things we encounter, as humans, that are completelyout of our control. It's like when the cat pukes on the carpet and thecleanup time causes a tardy departure for work and every traffic lighton the way seems to turn red right before you get to it, only to get towork to be subjected for hours of douchebag clients who treat you likeass and equally frustrated co-workers who also didn't pay tens ofthousands of dollars on education only to end up working brainless jobsfor shit pay. Noise provides a multilateral theraputic escape. Ikebanaisn't about high-brow high-gloss music periodicals spin doctoring theart value of Japanese perverts, it's about that certain release thatparents accuse teenagers of by listening to loud rock music. This trulyis noise, and, thankfully to light-hearted masters, it's as enjoyableas it is regenerating. With all due respect to Will Rogers, I never meta Merzbow remix record I didn't like. It's no surprise that MasamiAkita's noise works well when in the hands of competant and relativelyinteresting audioheads. 29 tracks is a lot to digest, but thecollection does have its golden moments. Pluderphonic commandersNegativland offer a humorous re-take on a 1950s radio warning with "AnActual Attack," (mucous is certainly a word which is never usedenough), Alec Empire returns to his big beat armed assault roots with"Digital Hardcore," and Bola both mimic the painful sounds of tinnitusand provide belly shaking beats of "Klunk" from Bola. I'm also partialto the jiggy Atari 2600-drum 'n bass of The Drummer as "Luxus," thesymphonic studio storm of Jack Dangers' "Available Memory," andHrvatski's thumpy humpy bumpy ride, "Toru Pup." Lowlights are few butthey do include AMT's Kawabata Makoto's seemingly endless loops offeedback hiss "Revolved Jane" and DJ Porky that Subliminal Pig's clichehip hop scratch opener "Takemitsu." Whether it's enjoyed in the car athigh velocities or at loud volumes at stoplights while the chump in theVolvo in the next lane is confused, noise presented like this—in avariety of relatively small spurts in alternating styles—is an auralmassage. It helps to put the chaotic mess of a life aside for a certainmoment, leaving behind the frustration of feverishly digging through adrugstore for a goddamned antacid while Diana Ross/Lionel Richie duetsplay and welcomes warm comedic memories of filling up at a gas stationwith young college boys staring at the engine of a VW Jetta (see linkof the week) like monkeys at a Rubik's Cube while only the girl in thecar is the one who can both check and change the oil. By the time I gethome, I have left my work at work. I feel jubilant and renewed andready to do an 8-ball off a squeaky clean pair of large boobies andhave sex with somebody who thinks I'm ten years younger.
There are certain things we encounter, as humans, that are completelyout of our control. It's like when the cat pukes on the carpet and thecleanup time causes a tardy departure for work and every traffic lighton the way seems to turn red right before you get to it, only to get towork to be subjected for hours of douchebag clients who treat you likeass and equally frustrated co-workers who also didn't pay tens ofthousands of dollars on education only to end up working brainless jobsfor shit pay. Noise provides a multilateral theraputic escape. Ikebanaisn't about high-brow high-gloss music periodicals spin doctoring theart value of Japanese perverts, it's about that certain release thatparents accuse teenagers of by listening to loud rock music. This trulyis noise, and, thankfully to light-hearted masters, it's as enjoyableas it is regenerating. With all due respect to Will Rogers, I never meta Merzbow remix record I didn't like. It's no surprise that MasamiAkita's noise works well when in the hands of competant and relativelyinteresting audioheads. 29 tracks is a lot to digest, but thecollection does have its golden moments. Pluderphonic commandersNegativland offer a humorous re-take on a 1950s radio warning with "AnActual Attack," (mucous is certainly a word which is never usedenough), Alec Empire returns to his big beat armed assault roots with"Digital Hardcore," and Bola both mimic the painful sounds of tinnitusand provide belly shaking beats of "Klunk" from Bola. I'm also partialto the jiggy Atari 2600-drum 'n bass of The Drummer as "Luxus," thesymphonic studio storm of Jack Dangers' "Available Memory," andHrvatski's thumpy humpy bumpy ride, "Toru Pup." Lowlights are few butthey do include AMT's Kawabata Makoto's seemingly endless loops offeedback hiss "Revolved Jane" and DJ Porky that Subliminal Pig's clichehip hop scratch opener "Takemitsu." Whether it's enjoyed in the car athigh velocities or at loud volumes at stoplights while the chump in theVolvo in the next lane is confused, noise presented like this—in avariety of relatively small spurts in alternating styles—is an auralmassage. It helps to put the chaotic mess of a life aside for a certainmoment, leaving behind the frustration of feverishly digging through adrugstore for a goddamned antacid while Diana Ross/Lionel Richie duetsplay and welcomes warm comedic memories of filling up at a gas stationwith young college boys staring at the engine of a VW Jetta (see linkof the week) like monkeys at a Rubik's Cube while only the girl in thecar is the one who can both check and change the oil. By the time I gethome, I have left my work at work. I feel jubilant and renewed andready to do an 8-ball off a squeaky clean pair of large boobies andhave sex with somebody who thinks I'm ten years younger.- Negativland - An Actual Attack
- Jack Dangers - Available Memory
- Alec Empire - Digital Hardcore
Galaxia
Showcasing his repertoire on the keyboard, sampler and mixing consoleunder the alias of A Grape Dope, Chicago-based drummer John Herndon(Tortoise, Isotope 217) presents six new varying tracks that make uphis latest EP. No stranger to the producer's chair, in recent yearsHerndon has provided re-mixes for other artists, while also releasing afew of his own dub-influenced compositions via the Hefty Records Immediate Actionseries. "Action: Showered Us" leads off the disc with its infectiouslive samba school-styled rhythms and muted basslines that kick thetrack into high gear, complete with handclaps. From the Hip Hopcollective Anitcon, Dose One lends his distinct, multi-layered vocalsto the bouncy "Red Hat Attack" over busy programmed machine beats,staccato low-end and near dissonant organ drones. The compositionalsounds and juxtaposition of car crashes and toddlers-in-the-park themesmake for an odd yet very interesting track. The disc's biggest surpriseand definite highlight is the soulful ballad "I'll Spread It" whichfeatures Herndon's emotional vocoder stylings along with some tenderbass and chord progressions that lilt and sway just beautifully. Theunderlying purr of additional electronic elements round out thecomposition nicely. Herndon's interesting compositional style andshifting rhythms draw from several different influences, yet still comeacross as distinct in their own setting. The strong, at times angularcompositions on Missing Dragons should dispel the myth that drummers are only capable of counting and hitting stuff.
Showcasing his repertoire on the keyboard, sampler and mixing consoleunder the alias of A Grape Dope, Chicago-based drummer John Herndon(Tortoise, Isotope 217) presents six new varying tracks that make uphis latest EP. No stranger to the producer's chair, in recent yearsHerndon has provided re-mixes for other artists, while also releasing afew of his own dub-influenced compositions via the Hefty Records Immediate Actionseries. "Action: Showered Us" leads off the disc with its infectiouslive samba school-styled rhythms and muted basslines that kick thetrack into high gear, complete with handclaps. From the Hip Hopcollective Anitcon, Dose One lends his distinct, multi-layered vocalsto the bouncy "Red Hat Attack" over busy programmed machine beats,staccato low-end and near dissonant organ drones. The compositionalsounds and juxtaposition of car crashes and toddlers-in-the-park themesmake for an odd yet very interesting track. The disc's biggest surpriseand definite highlight is the soulful ballad "I'll Spread It" whichfeatures Herndon's emotional vocoder stylings along with some tenderbass and chord progressions that lilt and sway just beautifully. Theunderlying purr of additional electronic elements round out thecomposition nicely. Herndon's interesting compositional style andshifting rhythms draw from several different influences, yet still comeacross as distinct in their own setting. The strong, at times angularcompositions on Missing Dragons should dispel the myth that drummers are only capable of counting and hitting stuff. 
The second full length album from Mr. Schnauss acts as an amazing springtime soundtrack, as all the trees are budding and the grass is turning a vivid green (with the exception of "Blumenthal," which can easily be music for an ice skating couple illuminated by Christmas lights).
With a warning on the disc advising of potential damage to certain audio systems (headphone use not advisable), the self-titled second release from Chicago avant-rock quartet Sterling lets loose a hybrid of compositions that could be the bastard child of jazz, classical and metal, conceived during a Dario Argento flick.
XL
Do you want to know how they keep starting fires? The Electric Sixfirst gained attention with their single, "Danger! High Voltage," whichlaid down the blueprint for their dance garage style and penchant forabsurd lyrics ("Fire in the disco / Fire in the Taco Bell!"), deliveredwith conviction by singer Dick Valentine and (alleged guest) JackWhite. Their sound was a strange brew of disco beats, surf squalls, andAndrew W.K. party riffing. While that single was immensely enjoyable,its novel, what-the-hell-is-this attraction hinted that the ElectricSix might find it hard to keep it up over the course of an entire LP.On Fire,the Detroit residents look to hold you in their grasp with songs thatdescribe their favorite pastimes, which include fire, the night,dancing, nuclear war, women, bars, and synthesizers. Often, theirbacchanalian single mindedness leads to redundancy, as on the track"Gay Bar," which commands that together we should "start a nuclear war/ at the gay bar," being immediately followed by the song "Nuclear War(On the Dance Floor)." Regardless, the former track is prettyconvincing, coming off as the hard rock party anthem of the not todistant future (it has already spawned one of those dancing cat onlineflash videos). Electric Six manages to top "Danger!" in unusual,unbalanced brilliance with "I'm the Bomb." Maybe I'm just a sucker fora song about, what else, dancing and women, which uses the word"gerrymandering." "Three, two, one, I'm the bomb," declares the chorus,"and I'm ready to go off on your shit." They're sublimely cocky, with aflair for the dramatic and a powerful desire to be looked at. I mean,they yell "Solo!" before they start a guitar solo at least twice.That's how much they want you to pay attention to them. Still, evenwith those occasional sparks, 'Fire' contains songs like "ElectricDemons In Love," "Naked Pictures (Of Your Mother)," and "She's White"which all smear together in a blur of generic lack of inspiration.Their original themes never vary much, and the frequent overlap tendsto make for a tedious listen, in total. Fire doesn't do much todispel the label of novelty that "Danger!" found attached to it, andthat's what makes the moments of quirk so fun.
Do you want to know how they keep starting fires? The Electric Sixfirst gained attention with their single, "Danger! High Voltage," whichlaid down the blueprint for their dance garage style and penchant forabsurd lyrics ("Fire in the disco / Fire in the Taco Bell!"), deliveredwith conviction by singer Dick Valentine and (alleged guest) JackWhite. Their sound was a strange brew of disco beats, surf squalls, andAndrew W.K. party riffing. While that single was immensely enjoyable,its novel, what-the-hell-is-this attraction hinted that the ElectricSix might find it hard to keep it up over the course of an entire LP.On Fire,the Detroit residents look to hold you in their grasp with songs thatdescribe their favorite pastimes, which include fire, the night,dancing, nuclear war, women, bars, and synthesizers. Often, theirbacchanalian single mindedness leads to redundancy, as on the track"Gay Bar," which commands that together we should "start a nuclear war/ at the gay bar," being immediately followed by the song "Nuclear War(On the Dance Floor)." Regardless, the former track is prettyconvincing, coming off as the hard rock party anthem of the not todistant future (it has already spawned one of those dancing cat onlineflash videos). Electric Six manages to top "Danger!" in unusual,unbalanced brilliance with "I'm the Bomb." Maybe I'm just a sucker fora song about, what else, dancing and women, which uses the word"gerrymandering." "Three, two, one, I'm the bomb," declares the chorus,"and I'm ready to go off on your shit." They're sublimely cocky, with aflair for the dramatic and a powerful desire to be looked at. I mean,they yell "Solo!" before they start a guitar solo at least twice.That's how much they want you to pay attention to them. Still, evenwith those occasional sparks, 'Fire' contains songs like "ElectricDemons In Love," "Naked Pictures (Of Your Mother)," and "She's White"which all smear together in a blur of generic lack of inspiration.Their original themes never vary much, and the frequent overlap tendsto make for a tedious listen, in total. Fire doesn't do much todispel the label of novelty that "Danger!" found attached to it, andthat's what makes the moments of quirk so fun.
Alga Marghen
Feedback as primary means of making live music seems to date from 1964. That was the year that Max Neuhaus debuted his Fontana Mix - Feed (see Brain v06i19) and when Robert Ashley brought fourth his tape, voice and feedback creation The Wolfman.Room feedback occurs when the sound from the loudspeakers in aperformance space reflect off walls and ceiling back to the microphone,as opposed to following more direct paths. In essence, the room itselfis set up to work as a cavity oscillator. The fun part is that whenthis happens the sound has the appearance of coming from differentpoints all over the room depending on exactly which reflections orwhich modes of oscillation dominate. Ashley's design for The Wolfmanuses a vocalist in front of the microphone singing gently into themicrophone and using his mouth to modulate the room feedback. There isalso a tape track, a full spectrum deluge of tape manipulated foundsounds, fed into the mix to provoke more variation in the feedback.Just how this works in a performance we will have to imagine since theperceptual effects of being inside the cavity oscillator are completelylost in a mere stereo recording. But what we get on the CD isnonetheless a full scale onslaught of highly dynamic noise that fullyholds the attention for its entire 18 minutes. It has a gritty rawenergy that any 90s noise artist would be very proud of but the humanvoice component takes it beyond the realm of mere electronics. The CDhas three other early Ashley tape compositions from 1957 to 1964 and ofthese The Bottleman from 1960 has captivated me. It wasoriginally the soundtrack to a film by George Manupelli featuring a mancollecting bottles in various desolate and dilapidated scenes of urbandecay. The music is quiet, very slow and has the same kind of insanedark ambience found in the soundtrack to Eraserhead. It is a tapemanipulation piece based on contact microphone feedback, found soundsand voice and, as with The Wolfman, it is the vocal componentthat adds the deepest tensions. Despite never having seen the film, theimage of a deranged person wandering around landscapes of discardedlife collecting bottles is easily imaged with the music being thesoundtrack in the near insane bottleman's mind. Fully deserving its 43plus minutes on the CD it is really very effective.
Feedback as primary means of making live music seems to date from 1964. That was the year that Max Neuhaus debuted his Fontana Mix - Feed (see Brain v06i19) and when Robert Ashley brought fourth his tape, voice and feedback creation The Wolfman.Room feedback occurs when the sound from the loudspeakers in aperformance space reflect off walls and ceiling back to the microphone,as opposed to following more direct paths. In essence, the room itselfis set up to work as a cavity oscillator. The fun part is that whenthis happens the sound has the appearance of coming from differentpoints all over the room depending on exactly which reflections orwhich modes of oscillation dominate. Ashley's design for The Wolfmanuses a vocalist in front of the microphone singing gently into themicrophone and using his mouth to modulate the room feedback. There isalso a tape track, a full spectrum deluge of tape manipulated foundsounds, fed into the mix to provoke more variation in the feedback.Just how this works in a performance we will have to imagine since theperceptual effects of being inside the cavity oscillator are completelylost in a mere stereo recording. But what we get on the CD isnonetheless a full scale onslaught of highly dynamic noise that fullyholds the attention for its entire 18 minutes. It has a gritty rawenergy that any 90s noise artist would be very proud of but the humanvoice component takes it beyond the realm of mere electronics. The CDhas three other early Ashley tape compositions from 1957 to 1964 and ofthese The Bottleman from 1960 has captivated me. It wasoriginally the soundtrack to a film by George Manupelli featuring a mancollecting bottles in various desolate and dilapidated scenes of urbandecay. The music is quiet, very slow and has the same kind of insanedark ambience found in the soundtrack to Eraserhead. It is a tapemanipulation piece based on contact microphone feedback, found soundsand voice and, as with The Wolfman, it is the vocal componentthat adds the deepest tensions. Despite never having seen the film, theimage of a deranged person wandering around landscapes of discardedlife collecting bottles is easily imaged with the music being thesoundtrack in the near insane bottleman's mind. Fully deserving its 43plus minutes on the CD it is really very effective.
Seeland
Remember that link of the week with the Oscar Meyer Weiner songanswering machine lady talking? Well, Mark Gunderson, aka The EvolutionControl Committee opens his current full-length masterpiece with thatvery same woman speaking along to the "Star Spangled Banner" as the"Star Spangled Bologna." Only a few years before people like Kid 606and Dsico were marrying Missy Elliott with Joy Division, the ECCcombined two flavors in perhaps one of the most groundbreaking (yetoverlooked) 7" singles of the 1990s, The Whipped Cream Mixes,where Public Enemy raps were matched with the music of Herb Alpbert& the Tijuana Brass. But the ECC aren's just mash-ups and cut-ups,as the Committee (much like Seeland label bosses, Negartivland)provides a healthy amount of gimmicky cheese, twisting and mutatingwords and songs into sounding like what they want to hear. While thisdisc compiles some of the finer moments of the ECC in the last fewyears since, it does also provide some brand new material forunderground superstar potential. "I Want A Cookie" jumps out first as avery aggressive self-help sounding woman gives empowerment advice overhorn-blaring hip 1960s-retro spy chase music. The classic "Rocked ByRape" is also included with Dan Rather's cut up samples over the ECC'sown AC/DC rip off riffs. The rhythmic usage is clever while the outputis absolutely hilarious, with examples like "Dramatic Alien Torture" /"Cancer Death Threat Fleeing for Their Lives" / "Voodoo Bizarre LoveTriangle," it's hard to keep up and impossible to tune out whenplaying. Four years after this song first surfaced, it has not lost itscharm, however it would have been nice to have a new revisit with allof Dan's quotes from the 2000 US Election Night overnight fiasco!(Search for some of those quotes online some time.) There are someother memorable moments like "Sex Re-Education," the cut-up 1950s-erasex education speech from a dad to his son, but at 29 tracks, therereally is a ton of forgettable filler.
Remember that link of the week with the Oscar Meyer Weiner songanswering machine lady talking? Well, Mark Gunderson, aka The EvolutionControl Committee opens his current full-length masterpiece with thatvery same woman speaking along to the "Star Spangled Banner" as the"Star Spangled Bologna." Only a few years before people like Kid 606and Dsico were marrying Missy Elliott with Joy Division, the ECCcombined two flavors in perhaps one of the most groundbreaking (yetoverlooked) 7" singles of the 1990s, The Whipped Cream Mixes,where Public Enemy raps were matched with the music of Herb Alpbert& the Tijuana Brass. But the ECC aren's just mash-ups and cut-ups,as the Committee (much like Seeland label bosses, Negartivland)provides a healthy amount of gimmicky cheese, twisting and mutatingwords and songs into sounding like what they want to hear. While thisdisc compiles some of the finer moments of the ECC in the last fewyears since, it does also provide some brand new material forunderground superstar potential. "I Want A Cookie" jumps out first as avery aggressive self-help sounding woman gives empowerment advice overhorn-blaring hip 1960s-retro spy chase music. The classic "Rocked ByRape" is also included with Dan Rather's cut up samples over the ECC'sown AC/DC rip off riffs. The rhythmic usage is clever while the outputis absolutely hilarious, with examples like "Dramatic Alien Torture" /"Cancer Death Threat Fleeing for Their Lives" / "Voodoo Bizarre LoveTriangle," it's hard to keep up and impossible to tune out whenplaying. Four years after this song first surfaced, it has not lost itscharm, however it would have been nice to have a new revisit with allof Dan's quotes from the 2000 US Election Night overnight fiasco!(Search for some of those quotes online some time.) There are someother memorable moments like "Sex Re-Education," the cut-up 1950s-erasex education speech from a dad to his son, but at 29 tracks, therereally is a ton of forgettable filler.
