When you have cult figures from different generations collaborating it’s often either a battle of wills or a hesitancy that precludes any interesting results. Faust are best know for their early 70s masterpieces of cut up collages of music concrete and motorik kraut rock. Nurse With Wound are British Dadaist sound collage and drone practitioners that have steadily pumped out albums since their inception in 1978 led by the enigmatic Stephen Stapleton. The success of this collaboration lies in the somewhat expected sound. Neither group compromise their innate strengths and their aesthetics naturally complement each other. Faust provides the rhythms and NWW break out the samplers and wind chime dark ambiance. In essence both groups provide their signatures without stepping on anyone’s toes. I can’t say that I keep up to date with every move of these two projects but this set is extremely pleasing in that it delivers on its logical promise. A nice late period entry from both groups that makes the title a welcome misnomer.
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When Magik Markers rolled through town awhile back it was a bit of a revelation. Their transformation from post-punk chaos to delayed out wah-psych has come full circle in a cosmic freak-out anchored by the deftly minimal bass playing of newbie John Shaw. Thankfully a brand new side of this development has emerged on one side of a split with Sic Alps marking the recording debut of this trio and the results rival anything the band has done thus far. Elisa takes the lead in a more subdued haze of manic intensity, her guitar playing more other-worldly than ever. Drummer Pete Nolan’s contributions are also brought to the forefront, most evidently on his free open intro to the final track. Shaw holds it together with the easy pace of a King Tubby album. Basically the Markers have a new swagger, like they’re wearing shades indoors, like Royal Trux almost post-heroin period? Something like that but more informed by PSF albums. How ever you wanna take it i’d put it on if i found it in a jukebox in a heartbeat. The Sic Alps side is an entirely different matter of tuneless generic lo-fi mess. Perhaps they’re saving their better material for bigger projects but this “shitgaze” aesthetic is unbearable. In any case, Markers side is great enough to merit obtaining this record should you come across its path. Viva Markers.
It was in some Midwestern record store many moons ago that I came across a copy of Jimmy Campbell’s second record, ‘Half Baked’. It was an intriguing specimen to me for a few reasons. Firstly, it was on Vertigo, the label responsible for releasing everything from Sabbath to Patto to Cressida to that old splooge guzzler, Rod Stewart. The label rarely steered me wrong in my dork ball collector days of wanting every slice of vinyl made by any British dude who wore a pair of overalls. Also, the proprietor of the dump slapped a sticker on it comparing it to Roy Harper, which gave it some potential, but I think the thing that really made me walk out with the thing under my arm that day was the cover; a twisted full color photo of a forest setting with two clowns of the opposite sex in the center. The male stared at the female despondently while she looked off blankly towards the camera. She is clearly pregnant and has very dirty stockings on. I twisted the scenario plastered on the cover over and over in my head on the ride back to New Jersey. When I got home and put the thing on the turntable, I was even more confused. Did this guy want to be John Lennon? Dylan? Bolan? Nick Drake? The tracks seemed to jump from style to style seamlessly. Who the hell was this Jimmy Campbell? I needed to find out.
Right to the point of why Oneohtrix Point Never’s Zones Without People is successful is at its heart its trance music. Within that it’s engaging, melodic, repetitive and not altogether foreign. Rather, OPN stems from more of a conscious effort to reinterpret modernity through a perspective that was weaned on VHS and late night satellite beams. A solo project of Daniel Lopatin, OPN has emerged as the forefront of the analog synth movement by truly demonstrating compositional skill over effects and infusing his material with warmth that contradicts the process. But at its core, Trance is really the genre this most heavily falls into in the best sense possible. You can toss around systems and theory but tracks like “Computer Vision” and “Zones Without People” get to some kind of core repetitions that are layered and constantly changing. That kind of loss of identity amidst the waves of pattern is ultimately the joy of trance based electronic music for the listener. This process culminates in the ballad-like opening of “Learning to Control Myself” that begins the second side of the album. Here, Lopatin exposes through hypnotic figures a romantic progression and interrupts it with a meltdown of dark side electronics. While the transition in the piece leaves something to be desired for it still reveals a breadth of scope absent among his more conservative peers. This aggressive streak continues on “Emil Gorman” but reverses the technique leading back into the lulling synth gauze to the effect of being sucked into a planitarium skyline. But really, its album closer “Hyperdawn” that sums up the essence of the album, a remarkable synthesis of drama, melody and repetition with its looping layers of phrasings and countering. Its not a heavy handed nostalgia, it’s forward thinking music.
Ortmann, who documented his particular fetishes most famously in Panicsville, now gives us his answer to an academic record in Provocative Electronics. Here Ortmann shows his electronic prowess in a more stripped down environment. As usual his process and editing are specific yet at times there is definitely a mad scientist vibe as Ortmannn mixes his potions and laughs nefariously. In this sense its successful due to both its composition and personality. There are elements of sci-fi sounds, computer records, minimal electronics and micro edits, almost like a latex covered version of the BBC stereophonic workshop. One thing Provocative Electronics is not is a noise album, rather it seems like Ortmanns take on various soundtrack fields or even as his take on Subotnik’s Silver Apples of the Moon. The sounds are diverse and Ortmann usually keeps it moving, although the beginning of side-B is drawn out too far for my taste, In any case, it’s a compelling listen and sounds fantastic for all you audiophiles. It should be mentioned that the phenomenal packaging supplied by the Pan label adds to the effect. Check it out for yourselves.
Mouthus came out on more of the bash and pound side of the noise equation, although always showing allegiance to the Double Leopards axis of vague hippie tendencies. Mouthus played loud and hard yet they weren’t as negative as say, Air Conditioning. Since then the band has maintained a steady stream of increasingly psychedelic albums. Divisionals is an all synth album, a far cry the loud free-style drums and guitar workouts of their earlier days. Outside of the band’s established context they manage to coax out a clearly defined aesthetic of consistency. The general recording has a lo-fi industrial tone and in some ways recalls Psychic TV’s, Themes 2, which is unexpected but works in their favor. As usual, Nate Nelson’s rhythmic sense has a language all its own, which is highlighted on this recording due to minimal arrangements and lulling looping refrains. It’s unclear exactly who is doing what here, given the instrumentation but on this album Mouthus really stake a claim for themselves in the drone cannon. With the popularity of the genre many acts have thrown their dull, half-assed, redundant attempts into the stream with only a few records worth keeping. Mouthus came out of left field and created a record that is genuinely hypnotic. The textures and rhythms constantly change in a dim dream machine Burroughs style trance. Even so, the effect isn’t overwhelming to sacrifice listen-ability. The record maintains its approach throughout and keeps coming back to my turntable no matter how many times I try to put it back on my shelf. Essential listening!
Drunkdriver are a good punk band. People hate them for various reasons, their live shows are often exhibitionist and over the top, also guitarist Kristy Greene plays some of the most aggressive slide guitar since Teenage Jesus. On this new 7” the band sound more unhinged yet tighter than last year’s full length on Parts Unknown. Which makes sense as the band has hit the road and developed their chops. Michael Berdan’s vocals sound genuinely paranoid and the guitar/drum one-two punch sound mean and ready to go. Both tracks are solid and it’s a fine addition to your contempo-punk files.
I slightly recall some sort of eighties revival showing its turtle head sometime in the early 00’s via dance music and ugly leggings, but I was too busy drinking heavily and collecting Jackie DeShannon records to really pay attention. It seems some six or so years later, we are in the eye of a reverse shit storm of the thing with every ‘taking some time off’ college grad and their army hat wearing cousin clogging their macs with oatmeal to get that ‘authentic 80’s bedroom sound’. No one wants to be Mantronix or Gang of Four anymore; they want to be some shut-in from Ipswich in 1984.
It’s taking me some time to come to the realization that it’s been ten years since Six Organs has come into fruition and become the man to blame for everything from Davandra Banhart to the decline in hair clipper sales. Not that I think it ‘feels just like yesterday’ since I first made acquaintance with the Six Organist on that grassy knoll in Amherst Common or anything. In fact, as I sit here and really think about it with brow furrowed and chin stroked, it doesn’t really feel like anything. It just feels like time has passed like it’s supposed to and you and me and Chasny have all swam many a lake of phony fire stoked by our own self indulgence, so who gives a fuck? It’s life…if we all learn to live with it; we’ll get it over with that much sooner.
These Teenage Panzerkorps have intrigued me for awhile now. Are they really German? Are they really dudes from that god awful Jeweled Antler collective? Are they really cold? Or is it just an incredible assimilation? I guess all these inane questions (used as personal distractions only, of course) really don’t equal out to shit when I consider how many newly released records sit dusty and untouched around this place while their jams get played once, twice…sometimes even three times in a week!