Those familiar with White Tapes proprietor Russ Waterhouse's work in Blues Control will immediately recognize a kindred spirit in Diamondhead. Maybe there's something in the air in South Austin that with the right combination of musical heritage, intuition and whiskey could account for what's channeled on "Street Leaf." L. Eugene Methe (Naturaliste) and R.J. Reynolds' (Leatherbag) melding of psych and R&B with folk sensibilities recalls another couple of Austin dwellers and former tape-slangers, Charalambides. But Diamondhead's influences extend well beyond the south, and since Methe is from Nebraska, that whole correlation might be fudged anyway. A listen to the title track just as easily evokes Ennio Morricone's soundtracks for Argento flicks, done up raw garage style with obliterated vocal mumbles, fuzzed out wah guitar, badass creep bass and mean as hell drum gnashing. The various additions of synth, organ and tape effects on "Oh Oh Rimbaud" and "Alabastor" emanate the jarring atmospherics one might expect from a No Neck session. An interlude on side A even throws in some screeching fried violin for good measure. The ten tracks which make up "Street Leaf" tend to sprawl like excerpts culled from hours of living room jams, yet every selection has unique ideas and despite the loose format emerge as whole. Another killer tape from this highly slept-on label. RECOMMENDED!
Click to consume:
http://www.myspace.com/streetleaf
http://whitetapes.8m.com
BABY BIRDS DON'T DRINK MILK "Ekk Ekk" (Lillerne Tape Club)
Factoid: the motto of Lawrence, Kansas is "From Ashes to Immortality." How badass is that? Having about as much experience with the Midwest as with contemporary indie pop- that is to say, little to nothing- I imagined this tape (sent in from the charming Lillerne label) sprouting inexplicably from fields of inedible bioengineered soybeans. Probably not the case, but one has to dream.
More likely, Baby Birds Don't Drink Milk is a phoenix of rad, unabashedly jangly pop juggernauticity ascending from the fetid mediocrity that is the American liberal college town music scene. They're probably popular enough by now in local circles to be releasing more widely accessible CD albums, but damn if a tape release or two doesn't build character. The eight tracks on "Ekk Ekk" swing back and forth without pause between straightforward psych tinged pop ballads and effects-and-loops-laden abstract improv. Maybe it's the format, the hiss, slight tape distortion and warbling that makes "Ekk Ekk" easy to appreciate. It might be the full orchestral sound created by a fairly large band simply playing in unison. There are other groups who do the whole lush acoustic/electric guitar, vocal harmonizing, everything drenched in reverb thing well, but this tape captures a certain feeling that's just...right. Or feels right. Like nostalgia, or even fake nostalgia. Like Family Underground covering a bunch of Sarah Records tunes, or something. Definitely one of the best tapes I've heard this year. Awesome full-color doodled artwork seals the deal. RECOMMENDED!
http://www.myspace.com/lillerne
http://www.myspace.com/babybirdsdontdrinkmilk
More likely, Baby Birds Don't Drink Milk is a phoenix of rad, unabashedly jangly pop juggernauticity ascending from the fetid mediocrity that is the American liberal college town music scene. They're probably popular enough by now in local circles to be releasing more widely accessible CD albums, but damn if a tape release or two doesn't build character. The eight tracks on "Ekk Ekk" swing back and forth without pause between straightforward psych tinged pop ballads and effects-and-loops-laden abstract improv. Maybe it's the format, the hiss, slight tape distortion and warbling that makes "Ekk Ekk" easy to appreciate. It might be the full orchestral sound created by a fairly large band simply playing in unison. There are other groups who do the whole lush acoustic/electric guitar, vocal harmonizing, everything drenched in reverb thing well, but this tape captures a certain feeling that's just...right. Or feels right. Like nostalgia, or even fake nostalgia. Like Family Underground covering a bunch of Sarah Records tunes, or something. Definitely one of the best tapes I've heard this year. Awesome full-color doodled artwork seals the deal. RECOMMENDED!
http://www.myspace.com/lillerne
http://www.myspace.com/babybirdsdontdrinkmilk
ALISTAIR CROSBIE "Sad Faces Of The Moon" (Peasant Magik)
This is the only music I have listened to for more than a week now. Seriously. I see absolutely no reason to ever take this tape out of my cassette deck. Every time it ends, I consider what to listen to next, pause, then flip this bastard over and play it again. Imagine you’ve never heard the term “Dark Ambient” before. Pretend the term is not a genre name, but in fact two adjectives paired to actually describe something. Scotland’s Alistair Crosbie sounds nothing like Alio Die (or any other wretched Goth garbage) but has produced a cold, sorrowful masterpiece of ambient music. “Sad Faces of the Moon” is, of course, culturally closer to the realm of the (pseudo) new age drone that labels like Students of Decay and Twonicorn have been promoting for the last couple of years. But while his peers, for the most part, explore major chords, blissful tones, and fuzz guitar harmonics, Crosbie’s palette is less overtly hopeful. The whole tape is absolutely drenched in reverb, as if the musical material was produced miles away, and the listener can observe only the splashy mournful decay, minutes later. The sounds themselves are earthy, organic, like two smooth stones being rubbed together, above which, the slowly shifting ring of a resonant windstorm howls. While avoiding anything that might be considered melodic, Crosbie’s soundscape evokes the kind of emotions that are usually targeted by melody. As listeners, we know that certain types of melody signify and trigger emotions like heartbreak, longing, grief, regret, and we can recognize them when they are used to manipulate us. “Sad Faces of the Moon” has the power to conjure these feelings without utilizing the usual bag of tricks to do so, and in doing, avoids the triteness and quaintness associated with those tricks. It is a truly astonishing release, with characteristically impressive packaging from the label, Peasant Magik.
ACRE "Volcanic Legacy" (Bone Tooth Horn)
This one came in a batch with several other Bone Tooth Horn (NJ) releases which will hopefully be worked through for CG soon. Check out the sites below anyway, if not just for the new promotional photo/shrine.
Most anyone with a soft spot for minimal oscillator-driven drone would lap up this trance-inducing 40 minute slothfest from Portland's Acre. The two side-long tracks, "Riley" and "Volcanic Legacy," offer subtle differences in harmonics but more or less all material on here is produced with the same formula. Following a slow build, the tones contort into a simultaneous lull and euphoria. Simplicity like this isn't necessarily easy to pull off, but Acre provides a good example of how it's done. RECOMMENDED!
http://www.geocities.com/bonetoothhorn/
http://www.myspace.com/bonetoothhorn
Most anyone with a soft spot for minimal oscillator-driven drone would lap up this trance-inducing 40 minute slothfest from Portland's Acre. The two side-long tracks, "Riley" and "Volcanic Legacy," offer subtle differences in harmonics but more or less all material on here is produced with the same formula. Following a slow build, the tones contort into a simultaneous lull and euphoria. Simplicity like this isn't necessarily easy to pull off, but Acre provides a good example of how it's done. RECOMMENDED!
http://www.geocities.com/bonetoothhorn/
http://www.myspace.com/bonetoothhorn
WETHER / PILLARS OF HEAVEN / GALLOWS / DEERSTALKER Split (Peasant Magik / No Horse Shit)
This long-playing, four-headed beast of a double cassette from Philly based Peasant Magik and Wilmington, Delaware's No Horse Shit was daunting enough to put off reviewing for a few months (doubtless a few labels could say that at this point). Once the gears get rolling, though, it's damn hard to not play this thing until the bitter end. Wether's "Night Terrors" is a versatile mashup of cacophonous bells, buzzing amplified resonance (not unlike Damion Romero's recent work), manipulation of stereo panning and scorched harsh noise. It's more sparse than cluttered, and Wether's focus on one primary sound at a time works very effectively. Pillars of Heaven follows with "In A Mirror, Darkly," a loping atmospheric piece with multiple layers of wavering tape hiss, distant field recordings and high/ low-pitched oscillations reverberating off of each other. Simultaneously lulling and apprehensive. Gallows is eclectic enough to resist easy labeling, although they resemble Fossils in a soundtrack-ish vein. Miscellaneous clanging, low rumbles and background loops could describe a gaggle of mediocre groups, but this one manages to pull a haunting and melancholy feel from some otherwise apathetic rubble.
The only underwhelming side on here is the closer by Deerstalker. Allegedly a "collaborative effort" between the other artists (there's no mention on the website as to which artists are involved), it bears little resemblence to any of the other groups except Gallows. Rather than calculated drones or walls of distortion, there's some blasé vocal moaning and obscured knob fiddling in the background. Perhaps this was a room recording which translated poorly on tape. This isn't too surprising; as others have previously written, it's not unusual for a one-off noise collab to fail to add up to the sum of its parts.
At any rate, the consistent quality of the other sides should be reason enough to check for this split (both Peasant Magik and NHS have recently had it in stock). The two tapes come in an oversize vinyl case with full-color wraparound art. RECOMMENDED!
www.peasantmagik.net/
http://www.myspace.com/nohorseshit
The only underwhelming side on here is the closer by Deerstalker. Allegedly a "collaborative effort" between the other artists (there's no mention on the website as to which artists are involved), it bears little resemblence to any of the other groups except Gallows. Rather than calculated drones or walls of distortion, there's some blasé vocal moaning and obscured knob fiddling in the background. Perhaps this was a room recording which translated poorly on tape. This isn't too surprising; as others have previously written, it's not unusual for a one-off noise collab to fail to add up to the sum of its parts.
At any rate, the consistent quality of the other sides should be reason enough to check for this split (both Peasant Magik and NHS have recently had it in stock). The two tapes come in an oversize vinyl case with full-color wraparound art. RECOMMENDED!
www.peasantmagik.net/
http://www.myspace.com/nohorseshit
SWAMP HORSE "Ravish" (Community College)
While it is not a Cassette Gods law that I do so, I avoid writing about the same artists over and over again. We get sent a lot of tapes, and, as a guy who writes mostly about Harsh Noise, I tend to have plenty of new things to ramble about. Which is why it should be surprising that I am writing about another Swamp Horse tape only two months after I wrote about the last one. And this is only their second tape! Perhaps when they release their third, I will be again so compelled to write that I will continue to cover their entire discography.
My review of the self titled cassette on Husk was positive, but I wouldn't say it was a rave. When CG was sent a promo of "Ravish" I thought I'd sit back and let one of my colleagues take a crack at it. When I found that nobody had claimed the tape, I popped it in my player, with no intention of reviewing it. This time, Swamp Horse has become, like, my favorite new band.
The A side contains one long shimmering drone that rises and falls with it's own woozy logic, with tones that conjure a low-fi Vangelis, without the heroic melodies. It's much less spooky than the previous cassette; where the self titled tape was the soundtrack to the creeping approach of a Lovecraftian forest beast, this first side is the morning after, when the sunrise finally breaks on the faces of the night's survivors. Side B is a return to doomier territory, but retains some of the glassy high-end sheen of the A side's palette. Beneath touches of spikey, hairy distortion, a nebula of synth tones swirl and churn. A more science fictiony affair, perhaps-- like watching a second generation VHS dupe of Event Horizon on a really small TV, and still getting the shit scared out of you.
My review of the self titled cassette on Husk was positive, but I wouldn't say it was a rave. When CG was sent a promo of "Ravish" I thought I'd sit back and let one of my colleagues take a crack at it. When I found that nobody had claimed the tape, I popped it in my player, with no intention of reviewing it. This time, Swamp Horse has become, like, my favorite new band.
The A side contains one long shimmering drone that rises and falls with it's own woozy logic, with tones that conjure a low-fi Vangelis, without the heroic melodies. It's much less spooky than the previous cassette; where the self titled tape was the soundtrack to the creeping approach of a Lovecraftian forest beast, this first side is the morning after, when the sunrise finally breaks on the faces of the night's survivors. Side B is a return to doomier territory, but retains some of the glassy high-end sheen of the A side's palette. Beneath touches of spikey, hairy distortion, a nebula of synth tones swirl and churn. A more science fictiony affair, perhaps-- like watching a second generation VHS dupe of Event Horizon on a really small TV, and still getting the shit scared out of you.
GHOST MOTH / FOSSILS Split (Pendu Sound Recordings)
Even in New York, a town with a history of musical cross-pollination, Ghost Moth is an anomaly. Posed with the unique freedoms and restrictions of machine-produced noise and acoustic improvisation, the group has stubbornly refused to do anything but teeter on the fence between the two. Daniel Carter's reeds, flute and trumpet will likely never be run through effects processing, and Todd and Robbie's guitar and electronics will just as likely never be anything but. Despite all contradictions and in spite of the members' numerous other obligations, Ghost Moth has somehow kept running full-steam for almost two years. If you haven't checked out this platypus of a group's unique sound, this murky 40 minute split with Fossils (a.k.a the "Middle-James-of-the-Month Club," almost as difficult to define) is an appropriate introduction. Includes full-color collaged insert.
Pendu Sound Recordings: www.pendusound.com
Fossils: www.myspace.com/fossilstrio
Ghost Moth: www.myspace.com/ghstmth
Pendu Sound Recordings: www.pendusound.com
Fossils: www.myspace.com/fossilstrio
Ghost Moth: www.myspace.com/ghstmth
TSUKIMONO “Bat Heads Roll” (Release the Bats)
Never heard of this Swedish drone fellow (Johan Gustavsson/Tsukimono) before but hopefully I do again, cause this micro-edition CS on Release The Bats is a wholly enjoyable slab of private electronic symbiosis. The A side was recorded live at RTB HQ but it sounds mid-fi enough to capture the wonderful rainbows of spiraling drone blasting outta whatever amplifier powered this sick occasion. The jam starts with an unsuspecting throb, like yet another mixer freak staring into wires, but then it grows and subsides into a subtle pool of new age bathwater before gradually freezing over into a dense vibrating iceberg of distortion, rumble, and skree. Near the end it sounds like he runs outta ideas, cause things drag a bit in a nowhere land of accidental noise and fatigue (and even some lazy sounding drum machine beats), but overall it’s a solid set. But, strangely, the B side “studio” recording (“Cloudness”) is vastly less varied and transformative. It ain’t bad, or even boring per se, but if yr any mood other than one of wanting to be totally drowned in infinity drone overload, this won’t be yr cup of coca-cola. Wish it had some more of the odd transitions of the live set but maybe that just wasn’t the vibe this night. Regardless: curious to hear more.
EMACIATOR “Dormant” (Hospital Productions) /// EMACIATOR “Within” (Callow God) /// EMACIATOR “Nonexistent” (Throne Heap)
When Tulare, California bleaknik Jon Borges first attempted to navigate away from the minor key rage and masculine despair that so defined his years-running harsh noise institution, Pedestrian Deposit, the results were promising but muted. Early Emaciator tapes on Hanson and Monorail Trespassing aimed to fuse the dread of blackened drone with the hypnotic qualities of ambient minimalism, oftentimes succeeding but occasionally sounding like a PD intro without the payoff thrash. Forget all that. The past is ancient history shit and today’s what matters. And over the past six-ish months Borges has slowly and single mindedly cultivated Emaciator into a beast far bleaker and more beautiful than any other musical stab-into-the-void he’s yet endeavored, and his latest batch of tapes are as sick as they come.
Dormant is a C15 on Dominick Fernow’s Hospital Productions label and it showcases the winter 2007 Emaciator live approach: summon dense clouds of buzzing ritual drone, then gently burn them away with quiet suicide-guitar arrangements, picking the strings like an inmate with nothing to gain from this life. The A ends like an elegy, miserable electric notes floating into the grave of a loved one, while the B howls with overloaded electronics all fighting to make themselves heard.
Within is on Jeff Witcher’s Callow God label, and was recorded in the fall of ’07, so I don’t know if that makes it more or less recent than Dormant (which has zero info except a million label logos everywhere), but if I had to guess I’d say it’s more recent. Because the A (“Lambent Truce”) especially sounds like the super current Emaciator style, which fleetingly at times verges on the new age drone harmonics of Taiga Remains, with the post-noise buzzing swarm of old reduced to a glistening landscape of emotional tones. The B (“Thoughts Harbouring”) is more of the same, a hypnotizing narcotic haze of pensive electronics. Overall a great tape, but the C12 aspect doesn’t give Borges much room to spread out and let things drift, grow, consume.
Which is why the relative opus-timespan of his Throne Heap C22, Nonexistent, is so deeply appreciated. Housed in an awesome and ominous black-and-grey silkscreened J-card, both Throne Heap sides here display how crushing, powerful, focused, and intense Emaciator is capable of being when all the drone-death tones are exquisitely cross-panned and overdriven and plowed straight into yr skull. The A is probably the stronger of the pair, but the B has a nice decaying, wasted quality that suits the mood of a tape-ending passage. There’s a grip of new TBA Emaciator slayings lined up for the future, so pray things stay inspiringly negative in Tulare, CA.
Dormant is a C15 on Dominick Fernow’s Hospital Productions label and it showcases the winter 2007 Emaciator live approach: summon dense clouds of buzzing ritual drone, then gently burn them away with quiet suicide-guitar arrangements, picking the strings like an inmate with nothing to gain from this life. The A ends like an elegy, miserable electric notes floating into the grave of a loved one, while the B howls with overloaded electronics all fighting to make themselves heard.
Within is on Jeff Witcher’s Callow God label, and was recorded in the fall of ’07, so I don’t know if that makes it more or less recent than Dormant (which has zero info except a million label logos everywhere), but if I had to guess I’d say it’s more recent. Because the A (“Lambent Truce”) especially sounds like the super current Emaciator style, which fleetingly at times verges on the new age drone harmonics of Taiga Remains, with the post-noise buzzing swarm of old reduced to a glistening landscape of emotional tones. The B (“Thoughts Harbouring”) is more of the same, a hypnotizing narcotic haze of pensive electronics. Overall a great tape, but the C12 aspect doesn’t give Borges much room to spread out and let things drift, grow, consume.
Which is why the relative opus-timespan of his Throne Heap C22, Nonexistent, is so deeply appreciated. Housed in an awesome and ominous black-and-grey silkscreened J-card, both Throne Heap sides here display how crushing, powerful, focused, and intense Emaciator is capable of being when all the drone-death tones are exquisitely cross-panned and overdriven and plowed straight into yr skull. The A is probably the stronger of the pair, but the B has a nice decaying, wasted quality that suits the mood of a tape-ending passage. There’s a grip of new TBA Emaciator slayings lined up for the future, so pray things stay inspiringly negative in Tulare, CA.
SOUP HORRIFIC / CRAZY GREEKS ON FIRE Split (Spread the Disease)
Someone ought to write a scene report on Barcelona. Whether it's my own blind ignorance or due to an exponential increase of internet networking, there are a whole lot more noise-influenced bands and labels popping up in Spain than in years past. Stephane K. from Spread the Disease, a Barcelona based label, was kind enough to send a couple split releases from the STD catalogue (yuk yuk) complete with annotations and a letter of introduction. Now that's a motherfucking PRESS PACKET.
"Don't Give Up the Soop!" seems to be the title for proceedings on both sides. Soup Horrific, consisting either of Steff *and* Terrortank or Steff who *is* Terrortank, aims to please right off the bat with some Aaron Dilloway- inspired tape loops and random chain dragging, submerging all in forebodingly thick atmospheres. There's also kind of a "hands-off" approach to probably half of this session which the Fag Tapes contingent would appreciate. Meditative and slow-paced, but too eerie to be relaxing.
Crazy Greeks on Fire, which is Steff and Guillaumme (possibly misspelled) from Sektion 9, throw some guitars, a tin flute and a couple microphones through a chain of distortion and delay pedals and splice the results into 2 or 3 minute tracks. The result screeches in the best way at moments but at other points seems scatterbrained. Overall, it's less of a cohesive statement than some practice room outtakes. The spraypainted and indeed diseased looking tape (recorded over a Star Wars disco mix, which I'm bummed to have missed out on) comes housed in a plastic bag with wraparound photocopied insert.
http://www.myspace.com/spreadthementaldisease
http://www.myspace.com/theterrortank
Spread the Disease
c/o Stephane Kerandel
Calle Sicilia 328, 3/2
08025 Barcelona, Spain
"Don't Give Up the Soop!" seems to be the title for proceedings on both sides. Soup Horrific, consisting either of Steff *and* Terrortank or Steff who *is* Terrortank, aims to please right off the bat with some Aaron Dilloway- inspired tape loops and random chain dragging, submerging all in forebodingly thick atmospheres. There's also kind of a "hands-off" approach to probably half of this session which the Fag Tapes contingent would appreciate. Meditative and slow-paced, but too eerie to be relaxing.
Crazy Greeks on Fire, which is Steff and Guillaumme (possibly misspelled) from Sektion 9, throw some guitars, a tin flute and a couple microphones through a chain of distortion and delay pedals and splice the results into 2 or 3 minute tracks. The result screeches in the best way at moments but at other points seems scatterbrained. Overall, it's less of a cohesive statement than some practice room outtakes. The spraypainted and indeed diseased looking tape (recorded over a Star Wars disco mix, which I'm bummed to have missed out on) comes housed in a plastic bag with wraparound photocopied insert.
http://www.myspace.com/spreadthementaldisease
http://www.myspace.com/theterrortank
Spread the Disease
c/o Stephane Kerandel
Calle Sicilia 328, 3/2
08025 Barcelona, Spain
BLUE SABBATH BLACK CHEER / VESTIGIAL LIMB Split (ESR)
Epicene Sound Replica created an interesting match-up for this split in combining two relatively new artists which can dish out the harsh stuff but usually build to it from different angles. Blue Sabbath Black Cheer's entry starts out with a slow, minimal machine pounding before detonating a compressed, fuzz-laden mass of rhythmic industrial sludge, complete with snarling yowls resembling buzzsaws. All manner of obscure chirps and creaks plug away in the background, with dismal synth tones only appearing at the right moments. All this, the sheer chunkiness and overall sound quality make for a slab that rewards successive listens. Due to the vocals-noise-drum machines lineup the group draws an inevitable comparison to Wolf Eyes, and although that isn't the only influence you'd have a more realistic idea of BSBC's sound with this than by basing any guesses off the band's name. At any rate it's commendable that there are still noise bands that bother creating structured *noise* compositions to pull them off as songs. BSBC is doing this well, and here's hoping they continue on for a few more years to come.
Vestigial Limb's mode of operation stems from the natural "incidental" sound (if that makes any sense) characteristic of Japanese harsh noise. The combination of manipulated tapes, record player and miscellaneous electronics present a pretty confounding wall of moving textures which get 'nuff burly but not so much as to completely obscure any tones from source material. Some predictable contact mic fuckery temporarily distracts the attention, but the additional layers of hum and hiss (with a touch of whatever it is that makes laser sounds) more than make up for it, culminating in a raucous climax of seizure-inducing feedback, crumbling static and dense motor reverberation before the finale. The nicely textured insert on heavy stock depicts some sort of psychedelic lightning storm, which is appropriate. RECOMMENDED!
Vestigial Limb's mode of operation stems from the natural "incidental" sound (if that makes any sense) characteristic of Japanese harsh noise. The combination of manipulated tapes, record player and miscellaneous electronics present a pretty confounding wall of moving textures which get 'nuff burly but not so much as to completely obscure any tones from source material. Some predictable contact mic fuckery temporarily distracts the attention, but the additional layers of hum and hiss (with a touch of whatever it is that makes laser sounds) more than make up for it, culminating in a raucous climax of seizure-inducing feedback, crumbling static and dense motor reverberation before the finale. The nicely textured insert on heavy stock depicts some sort of psychedelic lightning storm, which is appropriate. RECOMMENDED!
HEATSICK “Reverse Gardens” (Turgid Animal)
Birds of Delay used to bathe the globe’s brain in their high-velocity crouch-frenzies a lot more commonly, but with Steven Warwick’s wing of BoD based in Germany their prolificacy had nosedived. That’s ok though, cause Luke Younger has been scorching ears as Helm and Warwick’s found an outlet via his ever-deepening Heatsick alias. Reverse Gardens finds him in a long-form mood, his zonal flow control as ‘out’ and wastedly intuitive as ever. Both sides here sprawl through roiling electric tides of Pacific City-style psychedelic visions, overloading the tape with transverse updrafts of raw OM distortion and pitter-patter psycho-narcoleptic counter currents. Intimate and unmappable and thick as a prism. Has a cool kitty cat bleeding with collaged worm ooze on the cover that’s strangely apt. Another cryptic key to Warwick’s weird kingdom.
NECK HOLD / YOUNG ROMANTIX split (Scumbag Tapes)
Two more bands I’ve never heard of gangbang this split CS on the Midwestern haven of misanthropic obsession, Scumbag Tapes. Neck Hold have a shrieky instrumental no-wave energy that’s not bad at all. Hyper but not spazzy, the guitars sound like oscillators and the drums sound like guitars. It has all the fidelity of a cell phone recording a car stereo across a parking lot but that only adds to the pissed-off-ness of the proceedings. It’s over pretty fast too, which suits music like this. Young Romantix are even no-wavier, with sax and a girl screaming and the songs are bit more song-y (at least at first). The vocals remind me of Pukers (which is obviously a compliment) and the sax reminds me of some Michigan scum crew, and the meeting of the 2 is kinda a match made in heaven/hell/heck. I can’t imagine why this band wouldn’t rule at a house party, unless they pushed their keyboard stuff to the forefront (which is their main cheesy weakness). Otherwise: B.Y.O.B. In an oversized bag with a magazine photo of a blonde model as ‘artwork.’
WHITE LEATHER “W.L.” (Excitebike Tapes)
Dan and Khris’ terminal abuse team doles out another half hour of Michigander hell-raising, torrents of pissed off circuitry and frowning young men. Bleak, irritated, hostile, and wearing a Negative Approach t-shirt. The A goes from ugly to uglier, trapping you a corner and spitting insults in yr face. The B is a little more hungover, lolling through a nauseous, sea-sick nic fit before slow-motion barfing into a stranger’s shoe. Wasted & Loose, Whippits & Liquor. Edition of 50, sold out for months. The fake-pretty cover art is false advertising.
JON MUELLER "Hollow Voices / Singing Hands" (Friends and Relatives)
It is on rare occasion that Free Improv music is released on cassette. The genre usually shuns the format, presumably because of the fidelity limitations. The noise floor on a cassette is usually too high for the wide dynamic range most improvisers require. Also, Improv culture is, in general, way less likely to brandish its underground DIY cred; most improvisers are too busy trying to land art grants to play in little white cubes where uninterested people drink Franzia from plastic cups and talk about "exploring issues" and "challenging preconceptions." However, improvising percussionist, Jon Mueller, keeps it real with this tape of Improv pieces for amplified bass drum. I've known Mueller's name for a while as one of the founders of the excellent Crouton music label, and by his CDs with players like Bhob Rainey and Jason Kahn. On this tape, the first Mueller solo recording I've heard, we are provided two tracks of acoustic feedback in a system between a mic'd drum head and a speaker. Mueller also seems to place objects on the drum from time to time; the vibrating of the skin activates the objects, making them rattle about.
Now. Solo Improv is tricky. Some critics claim that without other players, an improvisation cannot truly be "free." The player must be combining and reorganizing units of pre-composed music on the fly, but never achieving something until then unknown, unplayed. The presence of other musicians, and therefore the element of unpredictability, is what pushes a player to find new methods, invent new techniques, evolve his/her language. Granted, this is an old viewpoint, and one more aptly suited to the Improv world of the 1970's. Since then, improvisers have become more concerned with extended technique, the exploration of the physical limits of an instrument. In the case of Mueller's tape, the unpredictability is inherent in the system itself-- his amplified bass drum. Acoustic feedback is notoriously difficult to control with any nuance. Even in Mueller's skilled hands, the sound occasionally gets out of control, or disappears abruptly. And while the music sounds like the struggle between a player and an unruly system, these two pieces also come off as a kind of semi-composed catalogue of the sounds possible within the limited vocabulary of the instrument. And in this way, the imperfections in the performance make the piece fall flat. Solo improvisers working in this same area, like Mark Wastell, Tomas Korber, Graham Halliwell and the aforementioned Kahn, dispense entirely with the live, spontaneous feel of Free Improv, to focus on the "perfect" performance of a specific concept. Rarely in one of their pieces do you hear something that could be interpreted as a mistake. This recent trend has prompted detractors to accuse solo pieces of being boring, sterile, and "new age." This new generation is taking the aesthetics of the end result of Improv, and removing the improvisation from its production (and, as a result, the ideology that supports it). With this tape, Mueller has taken a step backward. This sounds like an Improv release from the early 2000's when we were satisfied by CDs like Toshimaru Nakemura's "NIMB" series and Axel Dörner's "Trumpet," where the skilled examination of a very narrow sound world, previously unheard, was incredibly exciting. The problem is: feedback is feedback is feedback. It sounds pretty much like what you think it should sound like, and the sloppiness of the performance suggests that perhaps this release should be viewed as a throwaway demonstration of Mueller's (admirable) technique, an anomaly in his catalogue.
Now. Solo Improv is tricky. Some critics claim that without other players, an improvisation cannot truly be "free." The player must be combining and reorganizing units of pre-composed music on the fly, but never achieving something until then unknown, unplayed. The presence of other musicians, and therefore the element of unpredictability, is what pushes a player to find new methods, invent new techniques, evolve his/her language. Granted, this is an old viewpoint, and one more aptly suited to the Improv world of the 1970's. Since then, improvisers have become more concerned with extended technique, the exploration of the physical limits of an instrument. In the case of Mueller's tape, the unpredictability is inherent in the system itself-- his amplified bass drum. Acoustic feedback is notoriously difficult to control with any nuance. Even in Mueller's skilled hands, the sound occasionally gets out of control, or disappears abruptly. And while the music sounds like the struggle between a player and an unruly system, these two pieces also come off as a kind of semi-composed catalogue of the sounds possible within the limited vocabulary of the instrument. And in this way, the imperfections in the performance make the piece fall flat. Solo improvisers working in this same area, like Mark Wastell, Tomas Korber, Graham Halliwell and the aforementioned Kahn, dispense entirely with the live, spontaneous feel of Free Improv, to focus on the "perfect" performance of a specific concept. Rarely in one of their pieces do you hear something that could be interpreted as a mistake. This recent trend has prompted detractors to accuse solo pieces of being boring, sterile, and "new age." This new generation is taking the aesthetics of the end result of Improv, and removing the improvisation from its production (and, as a result, the ideology that supports it). With this tape, Mueller has taken a step backward. This sounds like an Improv release from the early 2000's when we were satisfied by CDs like Toshimaru Nakemura's "NIMB" series and Axel Dörner's "Trumpet," where the skilled examination of a very narrow sound world, previously unheard, was incredibly exciting. The problem is: feedback is feedback is feedback. It sounds pretty much like what you think it should sound like, and the sloppiness of the performance suggests that perhaps this release should be viewed as a throwaway demonstration of Mueller's (admirable) technique, an anomaly in his catalogue.
IS "All Class" (Community College)
If dear reader is interested in the sort of conceptual harsh noise artist who references Henri Bergson and Martin Heidegger in the same breath as Phil Blankenship and Whitehouse, you might already be familiar with Is, the prolific project of Chicago's Bryan Tholl. This new slab on the Ohio-based Community College imprint saunters down a few different avenues ranging from contact mic'd scrap metal rattling to hissing white squall to subdued rumbling. Side B's "Trochoid" is probably the more successful in pulling off a combination of these textures, ending up with a compelling pairing of half low-end wall, half high-pitched drone. Copies are still available as of this writing. Comes with a glossy heavy-stock j-card.
www.somnimage.com/is.htm
www.myspace.com/isthisis
www.myspace.com/communitycollegerecords
www.somnimage.com/is.htm
www.myspace.com/isthisis
www.myspace.com/communitycollegerecords
FOSSILS “Bell Jar” (Open Range Records)
This Canadian noise factory works straight through the weekend and all major holidays, unloading a staggering amount of product into the shelves and online warehouses of the world. I’m guessing Bell Jar is discog entry 180 or so, so please bear with me if I’m unable to articulate exactly what separates this particular C30 from their last bucket of mixer mucus. The A is blindly harsh and distracted, fluctuating wildly through a spectrum of agitated audio convulsions, and the B is slightly mellower though no less schizophrenic and deranged. I’d be shocked beyond words if Fossils themselves were able to distinguish the bulk of their output and put a name to a jam if tested, as it all runs together into a blurred and monochromatic tape-fucked junkyard of rude FX. Fossils isn’t a band, it’s a lifestyle. In a sandpaper case and spraypainted shit-brown.
BLANK DOGS “On Two Sides” (Fuck It Tapes)
As commonly happens in our current accelerated music hype-topia universe, there’s often bands/artists/styles that one only hears about via blogs or magazines or mass-texts saying that “you gotta check out so-and-so, they’re the new thing!” Sometimes they are and sometimes they’re not but Blank Dogs are a band/dude I always read about in the context of someone ranting “The latest BD single is his best yet! But it’s sold out already! So try to grab the next one!” I guess maybe my internet connection is just slow or something, cause I’ve yet to succeed in grabbing any of his sides. So it’s cool to hear this, thanks to J. Earl handling the CS edition of Blank Dogs’ TMU full-length. And it’s cool to learn that the underground blogosphere is ranting/raving about a dude who sounds identical to this CDR of Soft Cell demos a friend gave me in 2002. Pre-“Tainted Love,” Marc Almond’s shit sounded JUST like this. Mid-tempo drum machines, poppy robot guitars, lo-fi space age singing – New Wave for dudes on the dole basically. This is the American food stamps version.
POLISH HEX (Excitebike Tapes)
Don’t know if this is just another Dan band/plan or some other Michigan crusty, but the sound is what you’d expect to find inside an edition-of-27 red vellum skull-covered J-card with a spray-painted blob sticker stuck to the front: gross, raw, personal puke-tronics. Sometimes moody, sometimes not, sometimes sparse, sometimes not. Might be high-art, might be no-art. Breaks down all barriers, basements, bullpens, bullshit. The hopelessly esoteric moments here sink in with me best (some chunks just sound like a guy dropping bricks on concrete 50 yards away). I’m pretty sure this was dubbed on a recycled tape too, cause some radio-ready soft rock blares through in a couple places, and there’s at least 25 minutes of dead space at the end of each side. Pretty likable for what it is (whatever that is!).
VESUVAN “Cosmic Caverns” (Slime City Tapes)
Young Josh Burke has been pouring vast vats of audio-drip into the global slime pool since he finally decided to start recording/releasing his Vesuvan messes a few months ago, and “Cosmic Caverns” is release number one on his own Slime City Tapes bedroom label. First off you should know that this CS is 90 minutes long, and it is dubbed unbearably quiet (I fast forwarded through the first half of side A thinking it was blank). So, as it’s damn nigh impossible to even discern the existence of music on this cassette, I can’t in all professional good conscience recommend it as an apt starting place for folks interested in plumbing the Vesuvan canon. From what I CAN tell, turning up all volumes to 10, is that it is tape-manipulated sludge with no beginning, middle, end, editing, or overdubs.
SUNBURNED HAND OF THE MAN / EMERALDS split (Man Hand)
Cool split between some dudes who have been running the underground track since Nirvana was a band on Geffen not New Age Tapes and some dudes who have been smoking indo on analog synths since No Fun Fest 2006. Old meets new, basically. Savvily and radly, Sunburned reign in their clattery beard blather for an Emeraldsian zoner séance of keyboard levitation and moon sparkle that’s probably the best jam I’ve heard by ‘em in my lifetime (though I’ve only heard about 16% of their discog, I’d guess). Ohio’s chosen sons, for their part, do not disappoint in the least. The Joan Osborne-ly titled “What If God Was On The Subway” ascends a single-file escalator into the sky using a glorious procession of synth arrangements that all sound immaculately mapped and pre-destined to fuse together into this piece’s singular architecture. I gotta say I passionately love it when a band with as much online fervor/hoopla/hype as Emeralds back it up release after release with consummately executed magic like this. So thoughtful and deliberate and intentional it demands the rest of the musical planet’s droners raise their own game, NOW.
JESSICA RYLAN + ORPHAN FAIRYTALE “Lost in Time and Space” (Pluim)
Two of noise’s least classifiable females team up for this pipe-cleaner-entwined purple CS on Eva/Fairytale’s here-today-gone-tomorrow label. I’m in love with most OF stuff but teaming up with Ms. Rylan has for whatever reason resulted in a totally flat, no-fi wall of plinky-plonky keyboard noise that fails to hypnotize or evolve. It starts at a frantic electric pace and never blinks for the duration of its running time. Maybe the acoustics of the space where this piece was performed were radder than what the tape recorder captured, but if not this seems like a pretty tedious way to kill a quarter hour. Wish I could get my six bucks back.
UNEVEN UNIVERSE / VILLA VALLEY “Saint Louis Blues” (Excitebike Tapes)
Yet another pairing of Khris and Dan’s prolific sound worlds (how many does this make? They’re like the Lemmon & Matthau of Ferndale noise!). This one’s called Saint Louis Blues, and it’s either a tribute to the hockey team of the same name or just a couple live recordings that I assume were recorded in said city. The UU side makes me laugh/mosh because, despite being ostensibly created by FX-mangled horns, it really doesn’t in any way for even a fraction of a second resemble the sound of horns! This in itself is obviously a huge achievement. Strangled peals of high-end distortion blare out and twist above the table of mixers and cords. What I dig about it is how long they stretch the tones out, one after the other, warping yr perception until it almost starts sounding weirdly jazzy?! Way different from other recent UU sides, which I appreciate immensely. The Villa Valley set is typically dense and incomprehensible, slogging through numb wormholes and piercing shrieks. I can’t help but wonder what “hi-fi” VV would sound like, as this is about 30th outing I’ve heard by them where I can’t tell what the fuck’s going on due to how ridiculously blown out everything’s recorded. A man can dream, can’t he? In a nice metallic-flecked vellum J-card.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
