Monthly Archive

1. SUPERSILENT, IN THE COUNTRY AND SUSANNA AND THE MAGICAL ORCHESTRA : At this Rune Grammofon showcase, Supersilent were unforgiving, unfettered, uncontrollable, unimaginable, ungodly, unyielding, unscripted, unmetered, unfathomable, unmistakeable, unparalleled, unbeatable, and nearly unreviewable.  We were undeserving.   review

2. STEVE REICH : A luminous performance of Music for 18 Musicians capped off a special 70th birthday celebration, with the man himself on piano and marimba.  I took someone along to this who had never heard any of his music before.  My good deed for the year done, I promptly suspended all charitable donations for the remainder of 2006.  review

3. FENNESZ, PHILIP JECK, ROSY PARLANE AND CM VON HAUSSWOLFF : Touch’s 25th birthday was celebrated suitably in a boozer in South London.  For a label with such singular vision, the evening’s four performers took us deep into different crevices along the electronic music cliff face. And I got to buy the new Biosphere record months before release.   review

4. OREN AMBARCHI/MARGARIDA GARCIA, STEPHAN MATHIEU/PAULO RAPOSO, JOHN DUNCAN/ALFREDO COSTA MONTEIRO :  A night of buzz, drone and various other adjectives unrelated to bees in a most beautiful church setting.  I fell into such a state of blissful reverie that I actually fell asleep, dreaming of flying with birds.  My favourite dream.  review

5. INDOOR EAGLE : An unexpectedly riotous evening ensued when Thurston Moore plugged in to a gig already featuring the combined talents of Chris Corsano, Six Organs Of Admittance’s Ben Chasny, and Sunburned Hand Of The Man’s John Moloney.  So many Hoxtonites spontaneously wet themselves that my shoes were ruined.  Well bum.  review

6. THE BOOKS AND KIM HIORTHOY: Synchronicity and syncopation; The Books weaved charity shop video and audio samples to their rustic electronics with consummate skill .  Every single syllable and minute of multimedia became so entwined with themusic’s rhythms that is hard to imagine how they could ever have existed separately.  review

7. HOMEFIRES III: Vashti Bunyan, Grizzly Bear, Final Fantasy,  The Fence Collective, Isobel Campbell, Adem, and way better than all of that, SOME PEOPLE WHITTLING TABLE LEGS OUT OF WOOD AND MAKING MUSIC OUT OF THE PROCESS.  Also, the chance to sit around on the floor for two days is always greatly appreciated by this aging reviewer too.  review

8. KONONO NO.1 : They nearly blew the roof off the Barbican with their loud, incessant, crazy, buzzy thumb likembe rhythms.  People from the ages of three to eighty-three were witnessed dancing themselves dizzy and giving shout outs to Kinshasa.  Not sure what all this had to do with Steve Reich’s birthday celebrations, but great fun nonetheless.  review

9) KEIJI HAINO AND CHRIS CORSANO : This night had to make the list by virtue of the impressive feat of being probably the loudest thing I have ever heard - Haino was a demon cooking up pure malevolence from theremins, guitars, ritualistic chants, drums, and a giant wall of amps.  It was all so far out it had to be given a separate postcode.  review

10) TINDERSTICKS : The Barbican was almost flooded with an ocean of tears, as hundreds of grown men lost all control of themselves to the likes of “Tiny Tears” and “No More Affairs”.  Tindersticks II is such an emotion-wringer; to hear it played so well - and one suspects possibly for the last time - live nearly reduced me to a dried up husk of a man.  review

1. JOANNA NEWSOM YS (DRAG CITY): Listening to it still feels like opening the doors to a giant advent calendar, only to look around and find yourself in Santa’s grotto itself.  I may never tire of this unique and wonderful piece of art. review listen buy

2. TIM HECKER HARMONY IN ULTRAVIOLET (KRANKY): To me, the most satisfying electronic album since Fennesz’s Endless Summer; this was a consistently dizzying Munch-like whirl of noise and colour.  review listen buy

3. THE NECKS CHEMIST (RER): A monumental slab of irresistible propulsion which delivers a tantric masterclass in building unbearable tension; if they ever found that release it would be sooooooooo messy.  A career best. review listen buy

4. THOMAS STRONEN POHLITZ (RUNE GRAMMOFON) : The pick of another vintage year for Rune Grammofon, and for Stronen (see his Humcrush release also), Pohlitz was a blur of percussive invention.  Give the drummer some.  listen buy

5. SVARTE GREINER KNIVE (TYPE): Just when we were thinking about sweeping up the post-party detritus Erik Skodvin snuck out this terrifying and unclassifiable opus.  “Like someone assembling a bomb at the opera” I said.  High praise, obviously. review listen buy

6. COLLEEN ET LES BOITES A MUSIQUE (LEAF) : An underhyped EP which contained some overwhelmingly powerful yet delicate music box symphonies, blown into shape like glass.  She can do no wrong.  review listen buy

7. SCOTT WALKER THE DRIFT (4AD) : Now 11 years since his previous release Tilt, and I still haven’t come to terms with that, never mind The Drift.  Just thinking about it makes me want to hide under my duvet, eat pillow feathers and weep.  listen buy

8. GREG HAINES SLUMBER TIDES (MIASMAH) : This was released so late in the year; I’ve a suspicion that if I had time to give it a few more listens it could have found itself even higher.  “Debut of the year” someone said in the comments.  I concur.  review listen  buy               

9. GEIR JENSSEN CHO OYU (TOUCH/ASH) : Unexpected beauty and natural rhythms emerge from amidst the icy winds of this audio diary of a mad assault on one of the world’s highest peaks.  The lengths some people will go to for our amusement… review listen buy

10. SVALASTOG WOODWORK (RUNE GRAMMOFON) : A beguiling instrumental oddity, the sounds of the zither lent this release an addictive charm; repeated plays suggested a master craftsman was behind Woodwork.  review listen  buy

11. ALI FARKE TOURE SAVANE (WORLD CIRCUIT)  listen buy

12. JUANA MOLINA SON (DOMINO) review listen buy

13. TAYLOR DEUPREE NORTHERN (12K) review listen buy

14. CHRIS CORSANO THE YOUNG CRICKETER (CDR) review listen buy

15. ADRIAN KLUMPES BE STILL (LEAF) review listen buy

16. GRAILS BLACK TAR PROPHECIES 1, 2 & 3 (IMPORTANT) review listen buy

17. WILLIAM BASINSKI VARIATIONS FOR PIANO AND TAPE (2062) review buy

18. MATMOS THE ROSE HAS TEETH…(MATADOR) listen buy

19. JAN JELINEK TIERBEOBACHTUNGEN (~SCAPE) review listen buy

20. CARLA BOZULICH EVANGELISTA (CONSTELLATION) review listen buy

COMMENDED TO THE HOUSE : Johann Johannson IBM 1401, Paul Flaherty and Chris Corsano The Beloved Music, Broadcast The Future Crayon, The Gray Field Recordings Hypnagogia, Humcrush Hornswoggle, Ryan Teague Coins and Crosses, Glenn Kotche Mobile, Benoit Pioulard Precis, Mogwai Zidane, Triosk The Headlight Serenade, Christine Carter Electrice, Xela The Dead Sea, Chicago Underground Duo In Praise Of Shadows, Ricardo Villalobos Fizheuer Zieheuer, In The Country Losing Stones Collecting Bones, Alva Noto For, Boxhead Ensemble Nocturnes, Liars Drums Not Dead, Grizzly Bear Yellow House, Six Organs Of Admittance The Sun Awakens, Christopher Willits Surf Boundaries, Tom Waits Orphans, Burial Burial, Cat Power The Greatest, OOIOO Taiga, Max Richter Songs from Before, Volcano! Beautiful Seizure, Acid Mothers Temple Starless and Bible Black Sabbath, Huntsville For The Middle Class, Nina Nastasia On Leaving…

I’d been wondering how the two members of The Books could recreate their perfect patchwork live on stage; I came to the conclusion it probably couldn’t be done. It was both a relief and a disappointment that they didn’t exactly attempt to, playing guitar and cello (no banjo!) over pre-programmed loops and samples of people shouting out craziness.  Instead it was to be left to the visuals to take most of the strain of having to impress us, and impress us they did, with junk shop footage cut and stitched into the very fabric of the music.

Before all that visual excitement we had the excitable visual designer Kim Hiorthoy (probably being as well known for his groundbreaking sleeves for the Rune Grammofon label as for his music).  He played a set so danceable that it would have been almost impossible not to throw shapes. In fact, the only conceivable circumstance I can conceive of in which this would not happen would be in front of a crowd all fastened into their seats in the staid surroundings of the South Bank.

Still, he evidently enjoyed it, frugging away betwixt blank faces and blank screen.  I was looking forward very much to some visual stimulation from such an artist; such an absence made me consider starting a riot, but Hiorthoy was so into what he was doing I don’t think he would even have noticed.

The Books’ sixteen song set was in the main a set of swatches from The Wire’s album of 2005 Lost and Safe, and 2003’s Lemon Of Pink; those hoping for a raft of new material would have to join banjophiles amongst the ranks of the frustrated.  We were treated to just one new song, seemingly designed for live performance, in which the tempo of the music and the video were intrinsically linked in terms of the frame rate per second and the duration of the notes played (quarter notes, eighth notes etc); the quicker and shorter the notes, the faster the video, and/or vice versa.

The older songs hadn’t undergone any dramatic musical transformation (perhaps a bit more space was allowed for Paul De Jong’s marvellous cello work); the delight was in seeing the attention to detail which delivered such impressive marriage of speech’s rhythm to music (as emphasised by the projection of the single syllables of “Smells like Content” onto the screen) extended further into video.  “That Right Ain’t Shit” is sync’ed to a bunch of mormons taking their hats off, while preachers dance to “Take Time”. “Be Good To Them Always” features a deliciously humourous jump cut from freckled arm to a black petanque-festooned beach; in “Tokyo” a barely discernible click is highlighted with lightning flash.  On the aforementioned new song, the video initially plays back and forth, back and forth; by the second or third replay you pick out a blink and a wave cut just so to the beat.  Fastidious stuff.

The whole was stitched shut by a cover of Nick Drake’s “Cello Song” - a beauty; sounding as if it had been written for them.  As these humble chaps unthreaded their needles and packed up, I was reminded of a very different show which walked a similar line between musical and visual performance.  Like Kraftwerk before them, any misgivings I’d had about what was and was not being played by the performers seemed entirely superfluous given the meticulous thought and precision displayed in the output.

What with my current Deaf Centered musical fixation, I’m probably beginning to come across like that drunk man you see every day at the bus stop, you know the one who is locked in a perpetual rant about how immigrants are ruining the country, taking jobs from good hard-working natives like him.  I’d like to think that I make my case with a little more coherence, with a damn sight more sense, and (fingers crossed, still a couple of paragraphs to go) without falling foul of any race relations legislation. 

The debut album from terrifyingly talented 18-year old Greg Haines Slumber Tides is not only released on Deaf Center’s Miasmah label, it has been produced by Erik Skodvin himself; hence it was bound to attract my attention.  It sits closer to Deaf Center’s oeuvre than the recently-reviewed Skodvin (as Svarte Greiner) masterpiece Knive, being a painstakingly constructed (not scored; some improvised themes and drone sections were recorded and rearranged into these forms ex post facto) and arrestingly dramatic quasi-classical work, with pieces ranging from those built up from single cello lines through some near chamber pieces to dense electronic orchestral passages.

The manipulated minimalist cello of “Snow Airport” indeed conjures up stark icy images against its background hum of technology.  Wordless vocals entice us towards the deceptively flat panorama of “Submerge”, the overlapping string drones coalesce as we slip in and out of hypothermic illucidity; we collapse, dreaming of snowy white birds, and hoping for home.  The bells of the lush “Tired Diary” awaken us like smelling salts, our heads ring with the overload of information streaming through our still-slitted eyes. “Arup’s Gate” starts us walking again gingerly, more bells, cello drone and glacial vocals, but then some sort of flashback; soon we are screaming, panicked by sirens, and need the elegant reassurance of “Caesura” to get our heads right. 

Slumber Tides is like a Himalayan Trek – it will thoroughly drain you, but on the way you will experience some dramatic vistas and giddy euphoria; when it is over you will most likely want to do it all over again.  Even if you have lost both legs to frostbite.

Listen to an mp3 of “Snow Airport” here
Listen to samples of more tracks at Greg Haines’ website
Buy it from Boomkat, like what I did

I would have thought that as we approach the dark and foul-smelling end of 2006 I would have been struggling to find anything to write about, resorting perhaps to reviewing whatever Westlife are releasing this xmas or, even worse, a best-of-year list. Ummm, actually, the list will follow next week.  But my point is that even amongst the avalanche of schmaltz and MOR being marketeted so heavily in December, some crazy fools are still releasing proper records - some damn fine ones too.  The latest one to catch my ear being the new “EP” from Ricardo Villalobos.

It was reading a description of this as “minimal techno…giving Steve Reich a run for his money” (hat tip: jemmy_chaos) which set my radar all a-pingy, and necessitated some well-rewarded further investigation.  On the first track Villalobos dresses some whu-whu whu-whu whu-whu whu trumpet stabs in dum-tssss dum-tssss house beats that wouldn’t normally turn my head for a second.  Until three minutes in when he slips in some off-beat percussion sounds which throw the whole thing off-kilter and into an entirely undanceable place.  From the filtered house of “Fizheuer Zieheuer” emerges something phased and hypnotic.  As if that wasn’t enough, he starts firing ping pong balls from a big air gun to the fanfaric delight of the assembled brass section.  Oh, and he keeps this going for over half an hour.  The second and more minimal track into which this flows ensures a high VFM scoring by lasting about as long, even if it does seem to be lacking quite the same spark of inspiration.

Like Arthur Russell before him, Villalobos is daubing artful slogans all over the walls of the disco with little thought of who will have to clean up the mess.  What an extraordinary thing to release at this, or come to think of it any time of year.

Listen and buy at Boomkat

Seeing as that lazy workshy fop Deathprod hasn’t bothered to release an album this year, a huge gap opened up in the spooked-out minimal electronic composition field.  Deaf Center’s Svarte Greiner (a.k.a. Erik K. Skodvin) saw his opportunity, and has taken it brilliantly with grammatically challenged new record Knive.

“The Boat Was My Friend” sets the tone: a guitar chord screams into the void, violin and female voice (think the vocals on Arve Henriksen’s Chiaroscuro) shout back from miles down; the gulf between them is ragged and scarred.  The sinister cracks and clicks spew from here onto and over the following two tracks, and re-occur later on “An Ordinary Hike” – in my head I see someone scrambling around backstage at an opera assembling a bomb, with wire cutters and lighters (thankfully for those who find themselves on my cull list at any given time, I have no idea how to assemble a bomb, and am far too lazy to learn).  The nine minutes of “The Black Dress” are among the best nine minutes of recorded music of 2006, with delicate bell rhythms emerging from a chrysalis of elegiac Part-like strings.

My opening paragraph was a bit unfair, to be honest.  Despite the superficial Sten-ilarity, Svarte Greiner has made a terrifyingly good album which sounds little like anything else this year, and surpasses even his work with Deaf Center (bear in mind that this praise comes from someone who loves Pale Ravine).  Stabby.  Woundy.  Knive leaves its mark.

Listen to an mp3 of “The Boat Was My Friend” here