Artist: Animal Collective Album: Water Curses [EP] Label: Domino Release date: 5 May 2008 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock RIYL: Panda Bear, Grizzly Bear, The Beach BoysTracklisting: 01. Water Curses 02. Street Flash 03. Cobwebs 04. Seal Eyeing Total running time: 18' 05" [Animal Collective - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player] [Animal Collective - Water Curses - Video Clip] [Animal Collective - Taste - Take-Away Shows]
"The journey on which Animal Collective embarked some years ago has taken them from the thoroughly experimental to the surprisingly straightforward without ever going about it the easy way. In recent years, their records have become more melodic and song-based. Their last couple of inputs for Fat-Cat swapped the burning exuberance of early records for much more structured and elegant records. Last year’s Strawberry Jam album, the collective’s first full length release on Domino, showed that, although the band have polished their act, they remained as inventive with their music and have developed a truly unique sound.
Following the all-out pop effervescence of Strawberry Jam, Water Curses catches the band in a much reflective mood, their colourful songs stripped down, leaving vocals and melodies exposed. Three of the four tracks including on this EP were recorded during the Strawberry Jam sessions, but the mood is closer to the most contemplative moments of Feels or Sung Tongs. Water Curses, which opens, is perhaps the closest to the kaleidoscopic rhetoric of the album, especially in its mid section, but here, the guitars are more discreet, bubbling gently in the background, and the electronics, while still much present, only provide surface atmospherics, leaving Avey Tare’s vocals to jump around the hypnotic beat like a mountain torrent in spring. With Street Flash, Cobwebs and Seal Eyeing, Animal Collective drift further into peaceful mode, creating surprisingly tamed motifs over sparse arrangements. The former is almost entirely based on treated guitar and voice, with crowd noises populate the backdrop, stretching over nearly seven minutes of atmospheric pop. On Cobweb, the band rely primarily on light percussions to guide Tare’s vocals, with distorted guitars adding grit on the second half of the song. Of the four songs collected here, Seal Eyeing is the barest and curls around the desolate brushes of a lone piano.
Animal Collective have got into the habit of following albums with EPs that offer a glimpse into a different side of the band, and Water Curses is no different. Collecting some of the most reflective songs the band have released, this EP may surprise by its peaceful settings, but the music is as vibrant and essential as ever." [themilkfactory]
Artist: Atlas Sound Album: Let The Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel Label: Kranky Release date: 19 February 2008 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/Shoegazing/Lo-Fi RIYL: Excepter, My Bloody ValentineTracklisting: 01. A Ghost Story 02. Recent Bedroom 03. River Card 04. Quarantined 05. On Guard 06. Winter Vacation 07. Cold As Ice 08. Scraping Past 09. Small Horror 10. Ready, Set, Glow 11. Bite Marks 12. After Class 13. Ativan 14. Let The Blind Lead Those Who See But Cannot Feel Total running time: 50' 10" [Atlas Sound - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player]
"In his day job as front man of Deerhunter, Bradford Cox exhibits a plethora of musical psyches that make for the most flabbergasting of split personalities that one band can have when speaking of the structure variety each song contains. Even though their heady brew of ethos makes for some of the most impending of avant punk, Cox has stepped aside for a second and taken up the Atlas Sound moniker on what is an ostentatious pop sojourn into his creative aesthetic. In the end, saying that he merely pushes the envelope would be an understatement.
The album is a mostly disparate concoction of wheezing drum machines and crisp layers of cinematic modulations intertwined with Cox's lethargic melodies. Cold and sweet all at once while perched atop a reef of moody Krautrock, Let the Blind Lead has a progression that melts more than it floats.
The mixing skills from Brain Foote of label mates Nudge is spot on in how the assortment of vibraphones, African bells, glockenspiels, dulcimers and metallaphones are all but vaporized with the pulp set aside so that their sounds seep out like hissing gases of Eno druthers. One could say that it's holistic when listened to from beginning to end but not in a crunchy way. Never has an artist cut something with a catatonic vibe that is all so liberating, thanks in part to Cox's dulcet vocals and smelting polyrhythms, which mostly serve as the album's core of sluggish tempos. Since time immemorial the term "ocean floor droning" has been used to coin music similar to this but Atlas Sound is a close parallel to the Blade Runner soundtrack having the artiest of indie pop scissor hand treatment being performed on it at the bottom of the Mariana Trench." [URB]
Artist: Excepter Album: Debt Dept. Label: Paw Tracks Release date: 25 March 2008 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/Electro Rock RIYL: Black Dice, Animal CollectiveTracklisting: 01. Entrance 08 02. Shots Ring 03. Kill People 04. Any And Every 05. The Last Dance 06. Greenhouse/Stretch 07. Walking Through The Night 08. Sunrise 09. Burgers [Edit] Total running time: 43' 45" [Excepter - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player] [Excepter - Kill People - Video Clip] [Excepter - Burgers - Video Clip]
"Normally, urging the listener to “kill people” repeatedly on record would lead to scores of scaremongering splashes in the national press about the latest antichrists of the music scene. That Excepter have so far escaped this fate is probably down partly to their relative obscurity when compared with other musical bete noires. Yet although the shrieking editorial writers may yet have come to notice them, the band have been beguiling and infuriating music fans for years with their off-kilter anti-pop insanity. This, their fourth release, will probably divide listeners as much as the others, but it offers some pretty perverse pleasures to those who can stomach the ride.
To imagine what this band sounds like, picture yourself walking into a music store with sections devoted to different musical genres. Now imagine being in all of those sections at the same time, and hearing the ear-splitting fusion that would result. It’s music that is almost straining itself to be new, colliding fashions and tastes to produce something that is either a racket or a mad bleeping paragon of clarity, depending on your viewpoint.
Debt Dept, their first album for Animal Collective label Paw Tracks, comes with a litany of loopy statements about destroying “the boundaries between the psychic friends network and reality television” and releasing protest songs “played in an anti-commercial style with a timeless message for today’s election-year consumer”. It’s hard to know if we are meant to take the rhetoric seriously, but it is perhaps best overlooked in favour of the music itself. Indeed, the very idea that these are protest songs is almost mockingly undermined by the string of instrumental tracks on the album that work themselves out of different private puzzles. Greenhouse / Stretch, notably, could really be about anything at all, with its randomised organ patterns zipping along over a slow-moving trip-hop rhythm. Occasionally, voices growl distantly, as though sung from somewhere outside the studio walls, but the linguistic pretensions seem at best to be a neat ironic joke.
Of course, it is the music that will get the attention here, and rightly so. Excepter are almost openly lampooned for their ear-splitting inconsistency, but there is a very definite thread behind all of the tracks on this release. Hard to define easily, it could be summarised as a musical fist fight between the Beach Boys, Boogie Down Productions and the DJ at a late-night underground party for surf-rock subversives. It is defiantly retro, defiantly new, defiantly defiant – and, by definition, defiantly Paw Tracks. It is hard not to admire music as unnervingly off-beat as this, especially when everything clicks together perfectly, such as on tracks like SunriseEntrance 08. But at times the weirdness just seems laboured, as though, having run out of fresh ideas, they have just decided to monkey around in the studio and keep the tape running.
When we learn that seventeen tracks were recorded for the album, and eventually cut down to just the eight here, it almost makes sense – as though, not having room for all of them, they merely decided to stick all the songs on top of one another. This is in a way both the album’s weakness and its defining strength, and one that will no doubt continue to bewilder those who follow the band. But perseverance and an unusual proclivity for ear-hurting musical madness are probably the key here, as this is not an album that will make much sense until the listener’s natural resistances wear off. Buy it then, but don’t expect to like it much until the summer kicks in." [themilkfactory]
Artist: Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti Album: Worn Copy Label: Paw Tracks Release date: 2005 Genre: Rock Style: Psychedelic Rock/Lo-Fi/Experimental Rock RIYL: Animal Collective, Panda BearTracklisting: 01. Trepanated Earth 02. Immune To Emotion 03. Jules Lost His Jewels 04. Artifact 05. Bloody! (Bagonia's) 06. Credit 07. Life in L.A. 08. The Drummer 09. Cable Access Follies 10. Creepshow 11. One On One 12. Oblivious Peninsula 13. Somewhere In Europe/Hotpink! 14. Thespian City 15. Crybaby 16. Foilly Foilbles/GOLD 17. Jagged Carnival Tours Total running time: 76' 12" [Ariel Pink - Jagged Carnival Tours - Video Clip] [Ariel Pink - Thespian City - Live @ Tiny Creatures]
"Worn Copy deserves a place in a museum, stored in a vitrine and observed with hushed regard. It's indisputably a pure burst of unmatched, solitary creativity. The only question left is which one: the Folk Art Museum or the Museum of Television and Radio.
On the side of the short-wave buffs, Worn Copy is a premier example of the influence radio has had on American culture. The 75 minutes of song pastiche bear the influence of popular rock, dance, and soul from the latter half of the twentieth century, but not the clear sound of new vinyl on a hi-fi, or the blasting electricity of a live performance. This is an album written by someone whose primary source of music must have been a radio. The sounds phase in and out, their volumes changing as if the signal has briefly disappeared. The tones are fuzzy and muted, with the same lack of highs and lows that brought AM radio to its knees at the arrival of the sharper FM. Songs switch styles as abruptly as a listless hand surfing the stations.
The songwriter and musician, Ariel Pink, who created and recorded Worn Copy almost entirely on his own, mixes psychedelic '60s rock, '70s Californian jazz-funk, and '80s pop of Duran Duran and the Cars. These 8-track recordings can be both deceptively accomplished and then suddenly drop all pretense of technique, such as in the reverb-heavy "One on One", which feels like a meeting of the minds between the Velvet Underground and Jefferson Airplane.
Like most of us, Pink seems to have received the majority of his early exposure to popular music through radio, whether the faint sounds of college stations or the afternoon drive-time rock station. An impressive aspect of this influence is the incorporation into his songs of an essential element of commercial radio: the commercials. The track "Credit" turns a satirical commercial jingle into the song's core melodic hook, as inane and insanely unforgettable as any real one. "Cable Access Follies", a trashcan funk track with layered, bass vocals, emotionally glorifies the joys of cable TV.
His record might be a useful cultural artifact for the Smithsonian, but as an artist he clearly seems more comfortable in the realm of outsider artists rather than the gallery establishment. Pink seems almost begging to be labeled a "freak." The publicity photo that came with the CD showed Pink shirtless and strung out, his contorted face covered in what I have to assume is only stage blood. His combination of self- and mass-produced elements to create an original yet uncomfortably familiar final work makes for an easy fit with the outsider art of such visual artists as Henry Darger and Eugene Von Bruenchenheim. Like these solitary artists, Pink created hundreds of songs by himself. The lengthy Worn Copy is nothing compared to the potential magnum opus he might have arranged.
But Pink is not a freak. Outsider status is just like any other artistic authenticity debate -- cool, punk, and now freak are intangible labels that can really only be conferred posthumously. Pink is very much alive, and no longer a misunderstood loner. For one, he's enjoying some moderate recognition while still alive, something most outsider artists almost by definition never do. Darger and Bruenchenheim might never have been moved to create such vast collections of bizarre artwork if they had been given attention in their own time (Darger's drawings might easily have got him arrested, even). Like Devendra Banhart, another young singer crowned with the dubious appellation of "freak," a continuing, successful career as a musician almost instantly tarnishes the crown.
Worn Copy is a reissue of an older record, its material recorded in 2002 and 2003. His first record for Paw Tracks, The Doldrums, appeared last year but was recorded between 1999 and 2000. What can come next? The music of 1997 to 1998, or will Pink be able to return to his hermitage in California and, impervious to his recent shades of success and attention, create another epic ramble as compelling and singular as Worn Copy? I'm not sure what effect it might have on the man's sanity, but for the listener's sake I can't help but wish that he'd been left undiscovered for a few more years, able only to tune in to his own inner bandwidth for comfort." [PopMatters]
Artist: Xiu Xiu Album: Women As Lovers Label: Kill Rock Stars Release date: 28 January 2008 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/Indie Rock RIYL: Deerhoof, Animal Collective, Frog EyesTracklisting: 01. I Do What I Want When I Want 02. In Lust You Can Hear The Axe Fall 03. F.T.W. 04. No Friend Oh! 05. Guantanamo Canto 06. Under Pressure [Feat. Michael Gira] 07. Black Keyboard 08. Master Of The Bump (Kurt Stumbaugh, I Can Feel The Soil Falling Over My Head) 09. You Are Pregnant, You You Are Dead 10. The Leash 11. Child At Arms 12. Puff And Bunny 13. White Nerd 14. Gayle Lynn Total running time: 43' 39" [Xiu Xiu - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player] [Xiu Xiu - I Do What I Want When I Want - Video Clip]
"Women as Lovers is the sixth studio album by American indie band Xiu Xiu. It shares its title with the Martin Chalmers translation of Elfriede Jelinek's 1975 novel Die Liebhaberinnen.
The album is reported to be "more approachable or communicative on a basic human level" than anything else the band has released." [source]
Artist: Mr. Bungle Album: Mr. Bungle Label: Warner Bros. Release date: 1991 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/MetalTracklisting: 01. Quote Unquote 02. Slowly Growing Deaf 03. Squeeze Me Macaroni 04. Carousel 05. Egg 06. Stubb (A Dub) 07. My Ass Is On Fire 08. The Girls Of Porn 09. Love Is A Fist 10. Dead Goon Total running time: 73' 19" [Mr. Bungle - Quote Unquote - Video Clip] [Mr. Bungle - My Ass Is On Fire - Video Clip]
"Out of the womb, I believe Mike Patton was on a mission. And that mission was to make music that puts people in a position where they fear for their safety. By now, most of you have at least heard the rumors that Mike Patton's imagination is a bit on the dark, quirky, and unpredictable side. To say the least, his music is not the most approachable. In short, it is creepy. It ranges from bubbly and groovy, to harsh screaming and sounds of murder, with crunching guitar and jazzy saxophones- All in 5 seconds. Mr. Bungle, on of the most remarkable Patton projects, is the epitome of ADHD. It is a bit unsettling. Combining inhumane amounts of profanity, and the most annoying sounds you could imagine, Mr. Bungle make good music that scares everyone. I guess it only goes to show, Tourette's syndrome can be a good thing. Mr. Bungle's debut record was released around the same time as Mike Patton's most famous project, Faith No More, was in the height of their career. And it is nothing what an easy going listener would ever think of touching. But still, the music manages to be very creative, and good, whilst you are constantly peeking over your shoulder to see if an axe murderer is towering over you.
The weirdest part of the music is without a doubt, Mike Patton's vocals. He sings with a little whiny moan, but turns a sharp corner and screams with a growling tone, or starts laughing maniacally. The two weirdest songs that come to mind, on this album, are 'Carousel', which, backed by carnival music and distorted guitar, blended with an alto saxophone, ground Patton's piercing voice where he either moans, groans, laughs, or growls, and 'Squeeze Me Macaroni', where he rapidly spits out Mother Goose nursery rhymes during the chorus, or blazes through odd lyrics in front of a fusion blend of slap bass and tenor saxophone. And on the peculiar 'Love is a Fist', you can undoubtedly hear Patton's influence on an early Brandon Boyd, lead singer of funk/rock band, Incubus, from their days in Fungus Amongus and SCIENCE. No doubt, Patton was probably tormented as a child, because no sane, normal human being, would ever think to make that much annoying noise, in that short amount of time. And on top of that, the song lengths are anything but user-friendly, usually clocking in at well over six minutes, making this album a little bit less than easy to handle.
Musically, the album is a visionary. The guitar playing is very precise, and frequently utilizes technical skill, because lets face it, they probably aren't worrying too much about timing. Songs like 'Quote Unquote', which features a heavier-than-hell riff, 'My Ass is on Fire' where effect pedals shape some cool sounds, like wah-wah riffing, and 'Egg' has some very fast playing around on the instrument. Trevor Dunn (phenomenal bassist) provides the majority of the groove, even if you really aren't worrying about the fantastic rhythm section. But the locking in of the drums and bass is great. 'Dead Goon', a 10-minute gore-suite which will make you feel numb from fear, features some very cool, slinky basslines, and his slapping on the jazzy 'Squeeze Me Macaroni' is to die for. His tone isn't all that bad, either. You'll definitely notice the use of horns on most songs. Saxophones make a number of appearances, like on the previous track mentioned, as well as the weird, carnival-ish, trippy 'Carousel'. But the sheer talent on every song, in my opinion, does not hold up to the genius of 'Slowly Growing Deaf' and 'Stubb (A Dubb)'. Both tracks, fitting the bill of Patton's idea of "let's make 'em *** themselves" also feature some awesome grooving between the rhythm section, as well as the jazzy sound that sculpt the horn section. While it may be frightening, and extremely peculiar, this album was a formidable, acquired listen that wasn't all that bad.
Once you get past Mike Patton's need to make music that makes you feel as uncomfortable as possible, listening to this album will become an acquired taste that isn't so bad after all. Although this might be the band's least approachable album, it was certainly their most inventive. But believe me, your feelings on the first listen will be absolutely shocked." [source]
Artist: This Heat Album: Deceit Label: Rough Trade Release date: 1981 Genre: Rock Style: Post-Punk/Experimental RockTracklisting: 01. Sleep 02. Paper Hats 03. Triumph 04. S.P.Q.R. 05. Cenotaph 06. Shrinkwrap 07. Radio Prague 08. Makeshift Swahili 09. Independence 10. A New Kind Of Water 11. Hi Baku Shyo (Suffer Bomb Disease) Total running time: 39' 46" [This Heat - Makeshift Swahili - Live]
"This Heat were many things, but popular was never one of them. It's almost funny to see this record getting so much deserved attention recently due to its reissue, because before now, I only knew a few people who had even heard of the thing. It's especially strange to see all the praise in light of Gareth Williams' death on Christmas Eve last year. He wasn't a person who ever really wanted to be famous or even known as a musician, and yet will doubtlessly be better known henceforth than he'd ever been during This Heat's existence.
English drummer/vocalist Charles Hayward (fresh from working with Brian Eno and Phil Manzanera in the avant-prog/fusion outfit Quiet Sun) formed This Heat with Charles Bullen (guitar, clarinet, viola, etc.) and Williams (bass, keyboards, tape manipulation, etc.) around 1975. Hayward had worked with a fairly broad array of jazz and prog bands (and post-This Heat, would continue to do so), though Bullen and Williams were much less traveled, even as they were accomplished musicians. Hayward and Bullen had been playing together as a duo for a few years prior to This Heat, and began playing with Williams only after Hayward completed his duties with Quiet Sun. Williams would actually leave the band before this album, Deceit, was released, and maintain a very busy career as an engineer for John Barry and various symphonic recordings. His interest in recording techniques may have provided the impetus for This Heat to experiment with tape loops and editing, which would play very large roles in their studio output.
This Heat's sound was something like a confrontation of prog, free-jazz and contemporary electronic music (think early Stockhausen, not Kraftwerk). They often get lumped into the post-punk (or even just "punk") camp, for no better reason other than they started at the same time. They certainly sounded as if they were angry about something, and taking a glance at the lyric sheet for this album (and you'd better, as often the vocals seem more musical element than communicative force), they had fairly intense political/social statements to make-- though pinning down their position is often as hard as pinning down their sound. In any case, they were "progressive" in the literal sense of the word, and though they came up with the first wave of punk, they didn't really sound like anyone else of the time (save a few other English radicals like Henry Cow or Art Bears, occasionally).
Deceit was the band's second and final album (not counting posthumous releases, including the excellent BBC session release Made Available). As odd as it sounds on the surface, it's actually the more immediately appealing of their two albums, at least partially because of a greater emphasis on drive and something like song structure (though the music here is quite a ways from typical "songs"). The vocals-- mostly handled by Hayward-- were probably the weakest link for This Heat, though they don't really take away from the music so much as push it into yet a stranger realm.
"Sleep," the first track, is actually an atypically calm song, almost like a fractured lullaby. Layers of what sound like African percussion, and a simple piano line support a very low-key melody, wherein lines like, "Softness is a thing called comfort/ Doesn't cost much to keep in touch/ We never forget you have a choice," make me wonder if there isn't some kind of subversive commentary about consumer ethics and advertising at work. This shortly leads to the rave-up "Paper Hats" with its brawny, pouncing rhythms and subtly acrobatic guitar lines. This is a piece with several sections, none of them having too much to do with each other. Some, like the lengthy outro, sound like archetypical math-rock, with repetitive, complicated rhythmic patterns, while the brief middle section is more viscerally dynamic, or perhaps even "noisy." Lyrically, the band was as eclectic: "Well, what do we expect?/ Paper hats?/ Or maybe even roses?/ The sound of explosions?/ Oh no." I'd like to know what they expected, but I'm not sure what they got instead, and am certainly in the dark about to whom they protested.
"Triumph" is a Dadaist collage of various noises, musical and otherwise. There's a brief accordion intro, leading to what sounds like a kazoo lament accompanied by someone scraping a few pieces of metal and wood together. Then, Hayward mentions something about the angles being reversed, and the garbage symphony makes its grand conclusion-- all in less than three minutes. Perhaps this was a prologue for "S.P.Q.R.," which throws out any ideas of abstract noodling in favor of pure rock expression. The high-speed beat threatens to overpower a droning duo vocal line ("We organize via property as power/ Slavehood and freedom imperial purple/ Pax Romana!"). This track doesn't run through a myriad of stylistic changes; it makes its case via sheer persistence.
Hayward's interest in all manner of world rhythms and percussion manifested itself in tracks like "Shrink Wrap" and "Independence" (words provided by one Thomas Jefferson), where kinetic drum orchestras and ancient rain forest flutes and strings lent the music an otherworldly quality which further removed it from recordings by This Heat's angry peers. "Radio Prague" features more electronic trickery, and what sounds like someone actually tuning in and out of a Czech radio broadcast. There's a steady pitter-patter underneath, and some rather dark drones in the background (along with a haunting cello), and though I'm tempted to say this could have influenced Godspeed You Black Emperor!, it's more likely an isolated vignette. In a way, the entire album seems removed from typical musical happenings-- even the underground. Maybe that's why it's taken so long for This Heat to start receiving their due.
The band got its digs in once more for "A New Kind of Water," expressing the rage that seems to have been implied throughout the record, though rarely shown directly. Phrases like, "We were told to expect more/ And now that we've got more/ We want more, we want more," offer some of the only clear ideas about the feelings behind Deceit, and the music is appropriately insistent (crashing drums, wailing group vocals, very precise, discordant guitar lines). Over the years, there have been bands to play as aggressively, or even as strangely, but very few have been able to rise from their collective influences and histories to create music so singularly distinctive and inspiring. I don't know that Hayward, Bullen and Williams were trying to inspire (and that they debated over whether to release their music at all could be evidence to support that they weren't), but the overall feeling I take away from this album is that of revolution and a very creative form of protest. That's what I call punk." [source]
Artist: Faust Album: Faust Label: Polydor Release date: 1971 Genre: Rock Style: Krautrock/Experimental Rock/Psychedelic RockTracklisting: 01. Why Don't You Eat Carrots 02. Meadow Meal 03. Miss Fortune Total running time: 34' 08" [Faust - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player] [Faust - Picnic On A Frozen River - Live in Lyon, France (2006)] [Teaser of "Ist FAUST Schön?" Documentary]
"Ah, Germany in springtime. The leaves have returned, and the air is cool and of noble weightlessness. You can clearly see what the past has left behind in the medieval town squares, and hear the music of Bach's day playing continually from the opera houses and churches. Germans, like most of us, enjoy admiring nature. And since their cities have many parkland areas, it's no surprise to find the tourists crowding shops while the locals gaze in an auburn splendor. This is a country of quaint Bavarian villages and major metropolitan centers, majestic mountains and beautiful waterways, castles and culture. So, wouldn't it be nice if we dropped some acid, holed up like trolls and made an album?
Faust's records have never been the kind you dissect. The band seems to have some kind of plan at work, but not the type of plan left for others to follow. It's not the kind of algorithm that bears any scrutiny; yet, 30 years later, the music remains. And given the state of the boys in der Gruppe, that alone makes it worthy of reissue.
After spending several months in 1970-71 lazing, smoking, and existing rather superfluously (on Virgin Records' dime, of course), Faust moved their commune to Wümme in western Germany and decided to get serious. By serious, I mean they decided to put to tape the sugarplum visions in their heads. By sugarplum visions, I mean the acid-damaged prototypes of the New Solution for Music. By music, I mean their self-titled 1971 debut album and its contents, which consist of the music they played and processed using Kurt Graupner's infamous little black boxes. And by Kurt Graupner, I mean Faust's engineer, the sound wave savior who, perhaps more than any other, was responsible for bringing the group's adventures in hi-fi to acetate.
"Why Don't You Eat Carrots?" gets the movement underway with a knall ("bang," my kliene Kinder). Actually, it's more like the wake of a small jet whose engine roar is panned out all over your speakers. In the jet's cockpit, we have "All You Need is Love" and "Satisfaction" blaring, if only to remind you that Faust were at one time human and listening to your music. Upon reaching an altitude of about 120 decibels, our captains decide to let the aerodynamic vehicle coast, dropping a vaguely Bill Evans-esque piano interlude before launching a vaguely Zappa-esque groove that features some vague kind of shinai solo (or maybe one of their homemade synthesizers). I wish I could translate the sheer romantic terror of the thing, but it's all rather vague.
"Meadow Meal" follows, and though the intensity has died down a bit, Faust still resides in the hall of mirrors. There doesn't seem to be much reason behind the stuff (other than the "wonderful wooden" variety), and though the by-product may be skewed art-pop along the lines of Throbbing Gristle or Nurse with Wound, the overwhelming vibe here is of playful curiosity rather than oppressive abstraction. After a mystical incantation ("And the guess I get it/ And the gate I get it/ And the game I get it"), they break into a trashy rock joint, shimmying like Monkees on parade. I suppose they couldn't have kept it down if they'd tried.
And that ends the program as Faust planned it: a total of about 18 minutes of music before running out of steam and/or money. What to do, then, but jam out the mother of all documented freak-outs. "Miss Fortune" is probably not Faust's greatest legacy, but it is a testament to some fairly unadulterated haze-charisma. Recorded live, it consists of two rock-esque instrumentals (again filtered through Graupner's little black boxes), and one fantastic piece of prose set to a ghostly backdrop of acoustic guitar and admirably understated shakers. "And at the end, realize that nobody knows if it really happened." And at the end, I say "amen."" [source]
Artist: Einstürzende Neubauten Album: Alles Wieder Offen Label: Potomak Release date: 19 October 2007 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/IndustrialTracklisting: 01. Die Wellen 02. Nagorny Karabach 03. Weil Weil Weil [download] 04. Ich Hatte Ein Wort 05. Von Wegen 06. Let's Do It A Dada [download] 07. Alles Wieder Offen 08. Unvollstaendigkeit 09. Susej 10. Ich Warte Total running time: 53' 17" [Blixa Bargeld interview preview for NoisescapeTV about new album]
"It seems that Blixa Bargeld’s exit a few years ago from Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds has proven fruitful for Einstürzende Neubauten. Likely it is the prolific band’s supporter project that has kept them almost continuously in the music making mode. Over the band’s 27 year history, things have changed but Neubauten’s newest album, “Alles Wieder Offen,” offers glances back over their shoulder. Getting away from the more melodic songs that trick your ear into forgetting this is, in fact, industrial rock, “Alles Wieder Offen” continues the band’s tradition of being heavy on rhythm and chanting.
The delicate “Ich Hatte Ein Wort” patters gently and offers a reflective moment while, similarly, the sharp pizzicato and smooth bowed cries of strings bleed into clanging percussion on “Von Wegen.” The lightly choppy melody of “Nagorny Karabach” sails seamlessly by as “Susei” creeps along with its low thumping. The band work silence like never before as a soft melody and subtle bass riff accompanies Bargeld for “Ich Warte.” Neubauten offer a Devo-esque new wave sound on the infectious “Let’s Do It A Dada” while “Weil Weil Weil” takes a more traditional approach with the song’s title chanted endlessly.
“Alles Wieder Offen” seems to be a test in restraint for Neubauten. How many songs can the German band last before unleashing on listeners their trademark aural assault of organized chaos? The answer might surprise you as the album remains evenhanded throughout. What is more, the album establishes itself quite differently than “Silence Is Sexy.” “Alles Wieder Offen” is a refreshing break in Neubauten’s discography." [source]
Artist: Pram Album: The Moving Frontier Label: Domino Release date: 1 October 2007 Genre: Rock Style: Indie Rock/Experimental RockTracklisting: 01. The Empty Quarter 02. Salt & Sand 03. Iske 04. The City Surveyor 05. Sundew 06. Salva 07. Moonminer 08. Hums Around Us 09. Metaluna 10. Beluga 11. Blind Tiger 12. Mariana Deep 13. Compass Rose 14. The Silk Road Total running time: 44' 25" [Pram - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player]
"Birmingham’s Pram have always been on the periphery of pop music, shielded from the banality of everyday life by a heroic inventory of instruments and sonic references more adapted to time and space travel than to mass transportation. In a parallel dimension, Pram would be setting the pace and the NME, who famously gave their Sargasso Sea album a glorious zero out of ten, to the delight of the band, in 1995, would be a relevant music reference.
For The Moving Frontier, the band’s eleventh album in fifteen years, their first since 2003’s Dark Island, Rosie Cuckston and her troop have developed a much more complex musical lexicon, turning the spectral pop of previous releases into darker, more angular songs and murky instrumentals. It is on the vocal tracks, bare little tales over which Cuckston reigns supremely, that the change is most obvious. Salt & Sand snakes languorously around a drum machine and bass motif, with tidal waves of white noise occasionally sending pulses through the sonic landscape. On The City Surveyor, the voice, glacial blade planted straight in a desert of crushed noises and Theremin becomes the primary focal point, the acerbic story it conveys nonchalantly dripping of its sharp edge like blood on white carpet, while Moonminer is an ominous piece of toxic lava which sprawls uncontrollably until it sets for good after just two and a half minutes.
Salva and Hums Around Us are slightly more welcoming sights. On the former, Cuckston appears to drift away from the band as she sings repeatedly ‘Are you afraid of sugar / Scared of salt’, her voice becoming lost amongst some of the richest soundscapes heard on this record, while on the latter, Pram drafts impressions of krautrock for what is ultimately one of the lightest pieces on offer here.
The instrumentals scattered over the whole album are equally as varied, ranging from the after dark fairground thrill of opening track The Empty Quarter, the cinematic envelop of Blind Tiger and velveteen elegance of Mariana Deep and even more so Beluga, with its sombre murder mystery overtones and light-catching reverence, to the fragile assemblages of Iske and Metaluna and the abstract clutter of Sundew and closing piece The Silk Road. Pram arrange this display with aching precision, cautious of maintaining a fine balance of tone throughout. The results is Pram’s most confident and mature record to date, yet it is also their most eclectic and daring. A sure sign that they are now, more than ever, at the top of their game." [source]
Artist: Animal Collective Album: Strawberry Jam Label: Domino Release date: 10 September 2007 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/Psychedelic RockTracklisting: 01. Peacebone 02. Unsolved Mysteries 03. Chores 04. For Reverend Green 05. Fireworks 06. #1 07. Winter Wonder Land 08. Cuckoo Cuckoo 09. Derek Total running time: 43' 31" [Animal Collective - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player] [Animal Collective - Peacebone - Video Clip] [Animal Collective - Fireworks - Video Clip]
"On the back of Strawberry Jam, it might be useful to compare Animal Collective with Mercury Rev. Certainly, the latter band were once something of experimental proposition – fronted by the unhinged personality of David Baker and with a blurry and unfocussed sound to match. This formula frequently produced glorious records, but it was not made to last. Hence, in the late 90’s the Rev took a right-turn and cut their one bona fide classic, Deserters Songs.
In 2007, Animal Collective (that’s Panda Bear, Avey Tare, Deakin and Geologist) hold a similar position. After six albums of wayward hit-and-miss experimentalism, previous outing, Feels revealed a more linear approach to music-making. Not linear in the accepted sense of the word; but at times there was the definite whiff of ‘chorus’ and ‘verse’, even if these soon descended into a bubbling mix of chaos.
Strawberry Jam continues this evolution: influenced in equal measure by the Beach Boys, Frank Zappa and the outer peripheries of freak folk, it mostly sounds like a hippy sect howling harmonies while trapped in a psychedelic wormhole. Songs shift continually, instruments come and go, and whooping war cries drop in and drop out.
On the likes of “Fireworks” and “Winter Wonder Land” the results are a never-ending cosmic jam session, while “#1” takes replicates the repetitive discipline of techno on real instruments. The ability to confound and surprise is retained, not only in the same song, but, in the case of lead single “Peacebone”, often in the same moment.
As a result, Strawberry Jam is never inaccessible, but will be recommended for anyone who likes music as a Chinese puzzle. Those wanting more lasting – though no less head-expanding - pleasures are best directed towards Panda Bear’s solo album of this year, Person Pitch. But this is one band who won’t be heading towards the road’s middle for some time yet." [source]
Artist: Blues Control Album: Blues Control Label: Holy Mountain Release date: 21 May 2007 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/Noise RockTracklisting: 01. Blues Control 02. Boiled Peanuts 03. Migration 04. Double Chin 05. The Blue Sheep 06. Frankie's Problem 07. Hummum 08. No Sweat Total running time: 38' 10" [Blues Control - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player]
"It’s amusing – or frustrating, depending on one’s current mindset – that hype can latch onto a band faster than stink to a corpse. A few months ago, Blues Control were but another noise group slogging along the club circuit and releasing micro batch cassettes. Now, with records out on Woodsist and Holy Mountain and a months-long accumulation of blogger ejaculate, the group is positioned in one of the top spots on many summer ‘must hear’ lists. (They’ve also been on the receiving end of some sweet publicity via underground music’s most underappreciated hype machine – the band t-shirt. Getting some belly time on an established rocker, as BC did when Ben Chasny sported their tee on the cover of Signal to Noise, is an instant unit mover – Daniel Johnston, well, should understand.)
Luckily, even in these hype-hot times, where Pitchfork’s news section has become the People Magazine of the hipster set, what it comes down to at the end o’ the day is whether the band can rock their shit harder than the critics can lick their lips.
Fortunately, BC’s debut full-length is deserved of the slobber. The Queens-based duo’s name is a tongue-in-cheek reference to the instrumentation – guitar, piano, harmonica, drums – that the band employs. Yet, while at heart the disc is a collection of rockers and ballads, the sound has little in common with either rural African American laments or the blooze rock pumping from countless roadside sippin’ stations at this very hour.
There is a humidity that hangs over the album like a New Orleans nighttime. Russ Waterhouse’s guitars/electronics and Lea Cho’s keyboards sound hot and waterlogged whether they are roaring through serious riff-noise ear-tear such as the eponymous opener or laying down smooth trip-tronica, a la “The Blue Sheep.”
“Boiled Peanuts” gets the badge for being the album’s strongest cut, a swaying groove of dubbed-out percussion, lofty piano chords and spiraling locks of fuzz guitar. “Migration” features jazzing tinkling over a chesty keyboard drone that bubbles into a harmonica-accented fever swell. It’s a stewed Americana not unlike Matt Valentine’s recent work with The Bummer Road.
The minute-and-a-half of “Double Chin” features guitar freakery beamed live from the dark side of the garage. Closer “No Sweat” is Royal Truxian junkie slosh smoked up, looped and aimed to obliterate.
Artist: Animal Collective Tracks: Peacebone + Unsolved Mysteries Label: Paw Tracks Release date: 2007 Genre: Rock Style: Experimental Rock/Freak Folk"Oh no. Could this possibly be a short post with the sole intent to be “the first” to post these highly anticipated tracks? As much as I hate when other sites rush against the stampede to be the first to post a new track from the one of the hottest indie acts in the world without any commentary, I could not resist it this time. After all, this is Animal Collective. We will all be able to judge more precisely after a few listens but I was just getting a bit too antsy. As unconventional as this post is, these two tracks off of Animal Collective’s eighth full-length album, Strawberry Jam, are absolutely outstanding. I have the first three tracks available and I will supply you with the first two — “Peacebone” and “Unsolved Mysteries”.
If you thought that “Grass” was as pop-oriented as Animal Collective would get, wait until you hear the opener to Strawberry Jam, “Peacebone”. With clear and present vocals uncharacteristically above the instrumental mix, I believe this may be the catchiest track that Animal Collective has produced throughout their illustrious career. Well, at the very least, it is already one of my personal favorites. Even so, the fans of ambition should not fret. Despite a brilliantly innovative chorus that sounds somehow both tropical and chaotic, their unconventional method of brilliant pop songwriting remains perfectly in tact throughout “Peacebone” with a backing vocal mix that provides for subtly captivating hooks. “Unsolved Memories” is more reminiscent of several build-up methods implemented on Feels, with an exotic array of instrumental additions providing for yet another enjoyable experience. As linear as my descriptions are at this point, I will not bother analyzing these tracks until I get my dirty hands on the new album." [source]
Artist: Battles Album: Mirrored Label: Warp Release date: 14 May 2007 Genre: Rock Style: Electro Rock/Experimental RockTracklisting: 01. Race: In 02. Atlas 03. Ddiamondd 04. Tonto 05. Leyendecker 06. Rainbow 07. Bad Trails 08. Prismism 09. Snare Hangar 10. Tij 11. Race: Out Total running time: 51' 52" [Battles - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player] [Battles - Atlas - Video Clip]
"Marc Bolan may be dead, but Battles can rebuild him. They have the technology. On "Atlas", the second track on the band's debut album, drummer John Stanier's pistons pump out a steroidal version of Bolan's trademark shuffling stomp-beat. His three bandmates-- Ian Williams, Dave Konopka, and Tyondai Braxton-- constrict their two-note keyboards and one-note guitars until the song coalesces into a stiff, slick, swinging robot rock. It's like a skills-exchange workshop where mechanically minded krautrockers are encouraged to share their knowledge with remedial class glam bands only interested in big beat thrills. And as the almost-club-friendly single, it's the perfect introduction to the rest of Mirrored, easing you into the album's mix of over-the-top whimsy, extreme analogue rhythms that are often as much jazz-fusion as IDM as tech-metal, vocals that would do Roger Troutman proud, and vise-tight, "live or laptop?" musicianship connected as much by USB ports and Firewire cables as the improvisatory interplay of four dudes just jamming.
In fact, Battles may be the first band to really play with the way that 21st century software can extend and distend the sound of a rock band in real time; Mirrored moves in ways that Battles' first two instrumental EPs--post-rock played with the locked-down seriousness of modern techno--only suggested. Early Battles shows could sound like a metal band performing Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians, and Mirrored spurns solos, favoring a caffeinated maximalism where compositions are built out of 100 microscopic parts. The guitarist/keyboardists string together tracks out of riffs that crisscross with the careful preplanning of a subway system. Each instrument on opening track "Race In"-- Stanier's military-precise massed snares, the guitars tensely climbing up and down a few notes, what sound like synthetic tubular bells-- is added with the deliberate patience of a Terry Riley composition. The song feels nervously repetitive, like it's suffering from OCD.
If you've seen Battles live, you've probably seen the phrase "ex-members of" written on the flyer, and so maybe none of this surprises you. Save Stanier, everyone in Battles is a multi-instrumentalist, playing a prog album's worth of guitars, electronics, and/or keyboards. Braxton's put in time splitting the difference between IDM and avant-garde electronics; Konopka played with underrated indie instrumentalists Lynx, Stanier drummed for scholastic-metal pioneers Helmet; Williams finger-tapped for Don Caballero. But while there's certainly more than a shade of math rock's intricacy on Mirrored, tracks like the terse, tambourine-rattling quasi-funk of "Tonto" or Stanier's time-signature and tempo fuckery on the crescendo-crazed "Tij", the stern stuff is continually undercut by a vibe that's more romper room than po-faced. The "hook" on "Race In" is a whistle-while-you-work chant that they're probably humming down at Fraggle Rock. The astounding "Rainbow" spins into dizzying Rube Goldberg corkscrews of keyboard, xylophone, and giddily speed-attenuated symphonic metal drums. It sounds like the band is trying to recreate the Looney Tunes cartoon where Bugs and Daffy are dueling orchestra conductors, each driving their ensembles to crazier and crazier call-and-response peaks.
And what makes Mirrored's merry melodies really stand out isn't the crazy quilt structures or needlepoint precision of the playing. It's the frenzied gibberish of Braxton's pitch-shifted and electronically processed vocals-- a kind of ecstatic robot that's speaking in cartoon tongues. When "Atlas" dropped a few months back, those vocals were a squeaky line in the sand for old fans, and across the internet, everyone had the same thought: "Why are Battles suddenly aping the Animal Collective?" But Avey Tare and company hardly invented high-pitched sing-song vocals-- just ask David Seville. On "Leyendecker", Braxton croons in a falsetto that's been whipped up by technology until it sounds like a neutered D'Angelo. Combined with the music, a low-res quasi-R&B beat as grainy as a glitch track, Braxton's circuitry pushes "Leyendecker" into far stranger places than any the Collective has wandered into. Throughout Mirrored he shreds his vocals with the post-human glee of Warp labelmate Jackson and His Computer Band, whether it's the joyful opening burst of voice on "Ddiamondd" that spits pitch-bent consonants, or "Tij", where Braxton pants and wheezes in a creeped-out asthmatic lower-register. You couldn't even approximate "Leyendecker", or any of Mirrored's 11 tracks, with just acoustic guitars and voices.
At the same time, listen closely to the intro to "Atlas" and you'll hear the pedal on Stanier's kit hitting the kickdrum in the physical world of the studio, pushing air as the hammer connects with the skin. Even when reminiscent of the unfeasible programming of post-drill'n'bass electronica, Battles' spastic drums are being played in real time, with the brute force and metronome-focus of a guy with a background in heavy rock. But its avant-pop hooks and ultrabrite melodies are being dissembled and reassembled by pitiless CPUs in equally real time. It's thrilling and disorienting because the virtuosity of both man and machine means that, unlike earlier rock/techno hybrids hampered by both technically unskilled players and crude technology, Battles sound is indivisible. Battles may not be the world's first bionic rock group, but they've done more to extend the idea of a flesh-and-blood band enhanced by computer technology than anyone since the late, lamented Disco Inferno. Mirrored is a breathtaking aesthetic left-turn that sounds less like rock circa 2007 than rock circa 2097, a world where Marshall stacks and micro-processing go hand in hand." [source]
Artist: Frog Eyes Album: Tears Of The Valedictorian Label: Absolutely Kosher Release date: 1 May 2007 Genre: Rock Style: Indie Rock/Experimental RockTracklisting: 01. Idle Songs 02. Caravan Breakers, They Prey On The Weak And The Old 03. "Stockades" 04. Reform The Countryside 05. Policy Merchant, The Silver Bay 06. Evil Energy, The Ill Twin Of... 07. ...Eagle Energy 08. Bushels 09. My Boats They Go Total running time: 36' 10" [Frog Eyes - Open MySpace Standalone Music Player]
"Drawing inspiration from Dante, Shakespeare and the paintings of Brueghel, Frog Eyes' Carey Mercer has cast himself as a kind of raving academic, gone batty from too much time cooped up in the ivory tower. Most often, he sings of the very building blocks of civilization, from industry and commerce to little birds and houses in the woods. Yes, conspicuously couching one's work in the classics is an ambitious and professorial stance, but Mercer has always been up to the task; he howls -- and pants, whoops, shrieks, barks, et cetera -- like a feverish lecturer behind a guitar instead of behind a podium. And while Mercer's antics, on record and in concert, are impossible to ignore, Frog Eyes has always backed it up musically with a wildly imaginative, deeply dramatic sonic language all its own. But on Tears of the Valedictorian, the band's fourth album, Frog Eyes rises to a new level, framing Mercer's ranting in a more expansive and lavish sound.
Beginning with "Idle Songs," the album seems to pick up with the same spastic thrashing that marked 2004's The Folded Palm. But from there, the songs spread out into diffuse territory. Mercer's reverb-soaked vocal line wanders over barely-there guitar strums in the plaintive "The Policy Merchant, the Silver Bay," and the similarly spare ". . . Eagle Energy" is all acoustic plucks, rattling hand percussion and shimmering guitar runs. "Reform the Countryside" is a manic assault on the senses, driven by drummer Melanie Campbell's propulsive pounding and circling runs of rickety piano played by Spencer Krug (of Wolf Parade and Sunset Rubdown). And then there are the album's two epics -- "Caravan Breakers" and "Bushels" -- which cram all of these modes into constantly shifting, multi-part compositions.
"Bushels," though, is undoubtedly the album's masterpiece, calling to mind the dramatic flair, structural nuance and sheer sprawl of Roxy Music's "If There Is Something." Made up of four sections, the song's vague narrative progresses, more or less, like a Shakespearian tragedy, culminating in a cathartic middle section. As the band coalesces in a climactic instrumental passage, Mercer wails about impending famine: "London, you're cold/ But the wheat's got to last." His syllables are so twisted in his agonized, stammering delivery that it actually begins to sound like some pre-verbal yawp. Once the music segues into the spaciousness of the next section, Mercer plays defeated, moaning to the crop-killing English winter: "And when am I ever going to feel the sting of your sun?" After repeating the line several times, it dissolves into a series of bird-like hoots and the band launches into one final, triumphant section. At more than nine minutes long, it's an exhausting listen, but it's also completely chilling.
Tears of the Valedictorian is an incredibly dense record and may take several passes before you can even begin to peel away its layers. That sense of rigor, though, is what makes it so arresting. Like the literature and art Mercer clearly admires, this is an album that doles out rewards for prolonged scrutiny. After all, music that divulges more melody and inspired playing with each listen -- instead of revealing itself to be flimsy, even transparent -- is music that's built to last." [source]
Artist: Xiu Xiu Album: The Air Force Label: 5RC Release date: 11 September 2006 Genre: Rock Style: Electro Rock/Experimental RockTracklisting: 01. Buzz Saw 02. Boy Soprano 03. Hello From Eau Claire 04. Vulture Piano 05. PJ In The Streets... 06. Bishop, CA 07. Saint Pedro Glue Stick 08. The Pineapple Vs. The Watermelon 09. Save Me Save Me 10. The Fox & The Rabbit 11. Wig Master Total running time: 34' 38" [Xiu Xiu - Boy Soprano - Video Clip]
"Xiu Xiu are one of those acts it’s almost impossible to pigeonhole, just as you decide you can label them as one thing, the next track takes their sound into another place altogether. I suppose it makes sense then that they’ve ended up as part of the Kill Rock Stars/5 Rue Christine family, and this latest record sees the band (fronted by Jamie Stewart) joined by Deerhoof’s Greg Saunier on production duties (which makes perfect sense really when you think about it…). His multi-instrumental eclecticism paired with Xiu Xiu’s uncompromising odd-pop styles creates the sort of noise it’s simply impossible to ignore – you either love it or hate it, as they say. There are distinct similarities between Xiu Xiu and fellow American surrealists The Fiery Furnaces, both bands seem quite willing to ignore the callings of mainstream indie music and continue to make peculiar fractured songs, showing signs of pop success while never wholeheartedly embracing it, a concept never more evident than on ‘The Air Force’. For a start the album is markedly less ‘instant’ than it’s critically acclaimed predecessor ‘La Foret’, which seemed to take the Pitchfork-reading world by storm on its release. ‘The Air Force’ instead harks back to their earlier album ‘Fabulous Muscles’ with it’s lo-fi electroid style with flashes of the absurd, but injects this sound with an added bite and a little bit more risk. The lyrical content for a start is somewhat inspired, with guttural hymns dealing with sex, suicide and feminism just for starters – as you can probably tell it’s not exactly an easy ride. Xiu Xiu aren’t a band everyone will find it easy to get into, but then they were never supposed to be and the world needs it’s outsiders – without Xiu Xiu, the indie scene would be frankly a lot duller. Spannered, and all the better for it." [source]
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