one man, one drum, a whole bunch of pedals and samplers. looped irritation with superimposed syncopations. not in your face noisy but not necessarily a pleasant listen, trying your patience with relentless repetition and subtle inflection. fluid glitch
Ohio oddballs Sloth offer up not quite 15 untitled unlistenables: a bunch of looped weirdness, dick and balls and one meaty slab of feedback slash. French band Baygon Vert head up the endeavor with a whole bunch of dumbfuck mongoloid sludge. what the fuck else did you think?
justin marc lloyd electro piss-pop/noise glitter-tronica/childhood memories you wish you didn’t have but are better off having/psychedelic dada EDM/playhouse nightmares/industrial pony-violence/that asshole behind you in traffic and always more fucking insurance/sick muddled hiphop/torn between chronic self doubt and delusions of grandeur/that heavy heat that lingers, overwhelming beat drops and snare staggers/i seriously can’t handle how good this is, unbearable
double release of field recordings collected in Estonia by Yannick Dauby and friends John Grzinich and Murmer (aka Patrick McGinley). apparently Patrick convinced Yannick of the vast spaciousness, the quality of silence contained in the temperate sub-arctic climate of the country and Grzinich served as his guide upon visiting. the Lind, Raud album (Estonian for bird and iron) are just that, collections of raw field recordings from 2007 of birds and forms of metal; truly headphone music with a lot of silence but rewarding sonic treats. Aastaajad (Estonian for seasons) are field recordings captured by his buddies and then Dauby adds electronic sounds to the backdrop, amplifying the reverberating emptiness of the landscape. starting with autumn, we move through the transformation of seasons from the windblown stillness of autumn to the bleak ambiance of winter and the waters dripping of vibrant rebirth in spring, flowing freely into the nascent light of summer. the environmental subtleties throughout are captivating with the first CD acting as excellent interludes or mixing material and the 2nd CD beautiful pieces to stand on their own. masters of the art of field recording
a collaborative experiment in media synthesis, both artists contributing their wealth of knowledge and experience in exploring extremes of sound technology. Haswell having uncovered vast limits in analogue and digital audio generation and Tone experimenting with damaged/corrupted forms of media, here subjecting Haswell’s systems to MP3 Deviation techniques. The result is a vortex of degraded and corroded tones, digital dilapidation and audio entropy. chaos at its best. glitch and destroy.
1993 single from a legend of the golden age out of Queens. summertime boom bap with some laid back horn riffs on the production from Trackmasters. title track more philosophical and the B side more in your face. instrumentals a capella Cold Chillin.
rural synth-pop from Savannah, Georgia’s Jeff Zagers. he has a background in experimental dance-tronica and while hints of that are peppered in here, the style is decidedly that of indie pop, with some elements of spacious psychedelia tinkering around the edges. he plays all the instruments: synths, keys, programming, drums, guitar, bass and alto sax, with layers of vocals swirling over the top. ethereal, soft spoken, and personal, with personable production and melodies. a true gem of DIY style
3rd full-length from Tom Jenkinson leaning away from the abrasive drum and bass beats of Hard Normal Daddy and towards a more abstract yet groovy jazz-fusion / electroacoustic style. interestingly, the drums and bass are there but played live by Tom himself giving the album a more live feel. some of the tracks (4,6,8,10,12,14,15) are more of spacious glitchscapes while the rest bounce along, heads bumping. musically accessible with a serious touch of decomposing. just wait for that beat to drop.
“A cold and rainy autumn evening. Rats in the walls. An old portrait of a deceased child hanging on the wall. An old cylinder wax playing while drinking a glass of absinthe to confront the absurd. No colours at all, only black and white is painting the room. And mnemosine torturing you incessantly…..”
limited debut full-length from Spanish artiste and absinthe connoisseur; mournful melodies of victorian tragedy evoking lingering memories of lost loved ones and creeping uncertainties. lush harmonies in a dark, icy cold ambiance mixing old gramophone recordings with neoclassical piano and unsettling musique concrete. beautiful, beautiful nightmares.
composer from Quebec experimenting in structures that are both beautiful and chaotic; an almost organic decomposition crackling beneath, cracking open a desert overtone drone; ominous pulsations whispering devilish incantations and sweeping into celestial dementia and tense static suspicions; the dynamics are startling and unsettling, eerily morphing through monastic chants, glitched sonic shredding, heady vacillating vocalizations over a strangely uplifting synth serenade. a trip for sure, cerebral in all the right places and cathartic where it needs to be. final installment of a trilogy of out of body introspections.
lost 1977 debut record from mysterious radical individualist, “the chilean with the singing nose”, Alvaro Pena-Rojas. originally released on his self-fronted Squeaky Shoes label with money set aside from his advertising copywriting job in London while living with Joe Strummer only to languish on record store shelves that were wiling to carry it. he appeared on Nurse With Wound’s legendary list yet failed to gain recognition at the time, the world not ready for his strange outsider vaudevillian latin rock unplugged; staccato piano clattering, various endemic percussions, whistles and flutes, and raving mad lyricism about political negation and social empowerment. a surrealist preservation of chilean folk traditions by a man defiant in his stylistic uniqueness yet without an overt intention to stand out. a record lucky to still exist, and we’re lucky to have it.
futurist electrobeats from Toronto’s Bob McCully, I guess possibly part of Women in Tragedy, a post-metal-drone-dance-shoegaze group that has apparently been rather prolific for the past several years. this isn’t really any of those things
Warm and fuzzy electronic grooves; well maybe not warm, let’s say hot and dry afternoon loops with stoney repetition that keeps your head bobbing throughout, except for maybe Too High (to find a beat apparently). Wading through tall grass letting the bristles poke and itch as you sweat the stress away.
international collection of sonic decrepitude: Poochlatz = ceremonial sampling and eviscerating squall of crumbling empire; Caravana = feedback laced excrement noisecore chaos; 7 Minutes = post-traumatic gut growling and suppressed fart rage; Dave Phillips = sentient deconstructions activating primordial humanimalism; Dead Peni = livestock slaughtering doom scare; Goatworshipper = subliminal static. ALL PAIN, MAXIMUM GAIN
Swiss trio Andi Schnellmann (bass), Manuel Troller (guitar) and David Meier (drums) unleash a powerful barrage of minimalist muscle and progressive brutality. holed up in a house in the Alps to hone their sonic mastery, concocting a fusion of rock’s brute force and a jazz-inspired conceptualism: the eponymous side-long building and peaking tension on its teetering march to oblivion, heaving its mass about and subsiding to lurching drones; Riot showcasing their syncopated asymmetry and Massacre du Printemps especially highlighting the jarring unpredictability of experimental music’s predecessors. Surely the mountainous backdrop of their alpine landscape instilled a sense of something colossal coming forth in their music. a landscape fit for legends.
masters of mind-fuckery nonsense mischief makers: ear gouging – “what the hell did i just hear” – confusion; more random sampling than anything, the B side more a distant din while the A side is more rambunctious and random. sure to leave listeners dumbfounded, don’t trip you’ll hurt yourself.
recorded live 1978 at legendary SoHo performance space The Kitchen Yoshi Wada, Richard Hayman and Imani Smith recreating Wada’s earliest memories hearing Zen Buddhist ritual chants growing up in Kyoto. meditative modal improvisation for three vocalists, tantric dada minimalism inspired equally by Wada’s participation in the Fluxus movement and drawing on eastern European vocal styling as well, though the tone is distinctly of the Orient. plodding heavy as if set to a doom metal soundtrack yet fragile and majestic in depth. aura hypnosis
5th and final release under the moniker Guitar Roberts, this was originally released on his very own St. Joan label in 200 handmade copies; inspired by a series of paintings Mark Rothko released immediately before his suicide, “Black on Gray” (equally influenced by blues guitar styles of Robert Pete Williams). Solo guitar recorded to 4-track: a stark, disjointed yet sensual playing that Byron Coley describes as palpably erotic. his restraint exemplifying the subtle intensity disguised by the seemingly flat affect of execution. an emotional piece of introspection tugging at the more beautiful aspects of inner anguish.
first recording since their first performance in 2006; thriving in obscurity this british group carries an aggression that executes more in precision than power. contrasts of near silence, crackle and sizzle implodes into steel grinding misery. guitar, two drums, and a whole bunch of metal and stone to drill with electronics make up the industrial instrumentation of this group; rhythmic less in the percussive sense and more in the presence of absence, with more subtlety than pure assault, carefully contained incursions into aural terror. the promo sticker on the front stated “this music is war…get a helmet” which may be more hype than necessary, but this is damn scary nonetheless.
first installation of pop-dadaist cooperative ventriloquism out of Blackpool, UK. variety of artists here with some familiar insertions: UNIT bringing their skeetering teetering rock and roller derby funk rap spite, Howl dropping in here and there with insurrectionary art invocations, video age electro funk, dreamy interlude and a shiny jesus jingle to jig things off. hip hop grind noir from LDB: aggressively introspective irreverant goofs. all sorts of in-betweeners like druggy haze wave, radio interference seance, and even some British big beat. a whole lotta variety for a whole lotta wankers.
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