Minimalistic noisy punk from Australian trio
My Disco were at one stage in danger of following a somewhat well trodden road. In Cancer the influence of some other bands on their sound hard not to miss. It spoke oceans of the Travis Bean Bass, sparse punk and austere, even the name a reference to Shellac. With Paradise, they have moved into another direction however, one that was hinted at in Cancer, but never matured fully.
That being said, Cancer is a fine album. Reams of energy, of the unrefined kind. With Paradise, the band find their own space, and it’s a desert. Raw, powerful, austere and full of hypnotic beauty.
The noise aesthetic is something that many bands would shy away from. Not these men, there is courage in their sound. It being most prominent in the guitar work, where monotone drones, and shrill attacks are the course of the day. Live, the guitar is all feedback, and misleadingly incoherent movements that eek out from the chaos of feedback a reckless abandon. Listening to the album this joy is lost, and that is a shame. One that is forgiveable. The bass in Paradise is more reduced than in Cancer, changing rarely, and using this repetition to great effect. It is an immense sound. The drumming is one factor that, though reduced, is consistently lively on both albums. Songs like Pale, Measure Wait, A Christ Pendant Comfort Her Neck or Paradise being all excellent examples of this.
My Disco holds attention through the seamless blending of minimalist, noise and dance aesthetics. A contradiction that cannot but make sense. These are idealists, these are purists, uncompromising and challenging.
Recently joining Temporary Residence Limited, My Disco have a new album “Little Joy” out in January 2011.
Lesley Flanigan’s 2009 self released “Amplifications” is a beautifully layered and crafted album, which is saying something as most that claim to be “sound” or “noise” artists (as against being “musicians”) rarely have a grasp on such things as balance or musicality.
The New York based artist clearly has paid her dues, as the vocals will easily attest to. Her voice is incredible, at times one is reminded of Imogen Heap (think “Just for Now” though without the throngs of self-helpers attaching themselves to it), or Dead Can Dance.
As a whole this album has traits of Boris’ “Flood” and “-feedbacker-” albums, delicate loops of distortion and static feeding upon themselves and interwoven with graceful, ethereal vocals. Infact there is a strong post-rock sensibility, as well as hints of classical and Jazz throughout this offering.
The music is performed on very simple hand made instruments that Flanigan builds herself. The tones and timbres being manipulated from these simple feedback generating instruments with a microphone, building an ephemeral atmosphere of loops and waves of distortion. Her voice elegantly accompanying and playing counterpoint to the machinations of the speaker and mic, with choruses of voice that seem to create an ocean of sounds. The album is full of delicate disavowal of differences between noise and beauty.
Performing these works live, one is reminded of the precarious nature of these ephemeral sounds. Her knowledge of the high arts and her own rock sensibilities gives her a depth of understanding unknown to most performers. With speakers on the floor in front of her, delay pedalboard to the side, and microphone in hand Flanigan immerses herself in performance. Her voice, and that sweet spot where the feedback from speaker and mic can be tamed are all that she visibly equips herself with. This vulnerability coupled with that which she projects through her voice disarming and engrossing her audience.
2004 gave us Mare’s only offering HH666-80 2004.SF is a dark and utterly beautiful thing.
Unfortunately this rather short EP is all there is of this incredible band. Hydra Head re-released this, and will be your best bet for getting a copy.
Australian noise rock trailblazers from the 80’s.
This 1996 offering from Anphetamine Reptile Records (the same label that brought us The Jesus Lizard) marked ten years since feedtime’s breakup. With a new drummer, a deeper more grating singing voice, and higher fidelity production values this is, without doubt the album to get if you’re unfamiliar with this band.
The deep rasp of a smoke affected voice coupled with loud,simple slide guitar, driving drums and ballsy basslines make this bluesy fueled noise rock addictive. The song structures may be simple, but it’s the story-telling that really brings you into this barren place of a record. A place full of regret, bitterness, turmoil, and sadness. Billy has all the elements of a wrist-cutter, but manages to work on a more primal and instinctive level, getting you out of your seat to move.
Joanna Newsom’s new triple disc album can be both beautiful, and at times forgettable: each song melding into the last, causing a sort of wistful amnesia where the listener forgets themselves into a world of harps and trumpets. The wandering nature of her storytelling is more restrained, with songlenghts being closer attuned to that of the “Milk Eyed Mender” than to the sagas of “Ys”. There are moments of brilliance, but here Newsom is not creating worlds to delve into, and none worthy of the adage of this album being her “magnum opus”. Ultimately it is not as touching as earlier albums, but certainly more refined.
However I would argue that the album could have been reduced to a much more powerful single disc (with songs such as “Have One on Me”, “81”,” Good Intentions Paving Company”, “Baby Birch”, “Soft as Chalk”, “Go Long” being exceptional). Newsoms choice of leaving a strong start and floundering middle is somewhat confusing, given the choice of format on which it was released (triple vinyl) as it leaves sides that are less powerful, and somewhat forgetable.
The inclusion of drums, guitars and banjos is a departure from the sparse beauty of earlier work (admittedly more orchestral works did appear on “Ys”, and a band played on “Joanna Newsom and the Ys street Band” EP) as the sound seems to lean towards finding ways for the songs to work within the frame of a “band”, and not the orchestration / chorus’ of Joannas that appeared on other releases.
The drumming of Neal Morgan is innovative, and quite effortlessly furthers the narrative aspect of the songs. The guitar and string playing of Ryan Francesconi fuses with the sense of drama, and loss quite effectively, fitting in between harp and piano, and does so without being heavy handed (“Baby Birch”).
Disposing of harpsichord in favour the piano seems more of a consideration for “live” performances (imagine lugging an antiquated harpsichord around on tour) than anything else, one that unfortunately brings her musicality into a more staid direction and somehow limits the playfulness and individuality of sound that made Newsoms earlier work stand out. The song writing turning more into Americana than one of an individualist, and melding her style directly into traditions and idioms that until now she had only touched upon tentativly (for example in “Sawdust and Diamonds” from Ys contained traces, but also of minimalism).
Live though the choice of a band seems more understandable. Each musician adds textures to the overall sound, that if only concentrated on the Harp would be too intense for any performer to comfortably recreate night after night. Seeing her play in Amsterdam’s Melkweg this year I can understand these choices, but still not in terms of an album. Newsom has surrounded herself with a talented bunch, all quite faithfully recreating, playing, singing and clapping. The drummer, multi-instrumentalist guitarist and trumpet player all doing sterling work. It was not an intimate gig however, the Dutch crowd being too formal, and withdrawn. Trying to gauge the crowd, she mentioned her luck at not kicking over a water bottle. Gauge the crowd was something that any performer would do, given the reception of Roy Harper, who shared the bill. Personally I was glad to have had a chance to see him perform, not being overly familiar with his music, but enjoying his finger-style and cool manner. I can only try and imagine what was going through the mind of the “laughing heckler” who spoiled a poignant moment mid song.
The strongest part of the night was the minimalist/drone Harp version of “Peach, Plum, Pear”, the intro for which being absolutely amazing. Also “The book of right on” and “Emily” were very well interpreted and well received. I had hoped Newsom would play more, and was amazed at how the gig ended so easily, the affable but uncommitted and unmoved crowd leaving immediately after the one song encore. It seems the water bottle took on more importance than Newsom hinted at, its not tipping over being a sign that Miss Newsom was not engaging fully with the crowd, and rather simply “performed”.
I look forward to seeing the bottle tip.
This triple disc offering by Oneida is a very diverse and mindful musical journey. This is part two of the “Thank your Parents” triptych.
Starting off with Dub (Brownout in Lagos), electronica (10:30 at the Oasis), progressing to electric sitar and folk infused rock drones (Luxury Travel & Folk Wisdom), the album exposes itself as a multifaceted thing, reminding us that musicians find beauty/fulfilment in a range of often seemingly contradictory styles. The real success of the album is that this progression is compelling and believable, it’s graced with a balance that underlines the common thread through each change; almost like a river coursing and then winding its way to the ocean, revealing along the way different landscape it has craved and helped create.
Drums usually drive a song, here they accentuate patternations that loop back on themselves and then morph, it’s a subtle role. Sometimes affected by distortion, sometimes modified and condensed, usually subdued within the mix which when contrasted with an unaffected snare and highhats sound pushes them to into a more melodic role. The drumming patterns in this album are very interesting, they can be Krautrock one phrase and then reserved glitches the next.
The use of drones is also something. it binds, and creates space, sets the pace and at times elevates the song. Synths, guitars and bass all share in the drones. Though allowing the guitar and bass to shift into and out of that phase has a great effect.
Released though Jagjaguwar this album is something to behold.
Amazing Irish Hardcore band Hands up Who Wants to Die
So far they’ve released a Split 10″ on the fabulous Richter Collective, with I’ll Eat Your Face (another excellently named Irish band) and are now working on their first full length album. DEFINATELY worth checking out!
Here are two not so unrelated facts:
1) Karma to Burn are a fine band.
2) Jim Turbert is a fine artist.
The practice of both artist and band playing with ideas of appropriation, and of identity.
Karma To Burn releasing a few songs that are infact based around Rage Against the Machine riffs. They have done this quite blatantly, and during their live sets there is no doubt why. Audiences lap up “that Rage song”, and why wouldn’t they? For a few blurred and blessed moments of confusion, blasting a riff, they become Rage, albeit without the singer (or that other guy, though that is another story). Karma To Burn aren’t necessarily playing with Homage, I would suggest they are doing this to test an archetype. Specifically that of a powerhouse, trying on for size a costume they haven’t weathered themselves.
Jim Turbert does something similar. His “Expectations vs. Reality” series of self-portraits sets himself in the role of an actor, donning the robes of fantasy or daydream. Recreating idle thoughts of becoming an astronaut, athlete, Oxford Don, or Quiz-Show contestant convincingly. As if documenting a fictitious history so that he can get a better understanding of himself, and how his path has diverged away from these token childhood ideals. That in creating these pictures he is satisfying a curiosity, but one that makes it highly apparent that the photographed reality is not the case. His conviction being not one of abandon, but rather a knowing one.
At a festival in Tillburg in 2010 these two practices collided. Karma To Burn convincingly recreated this notion of themselves as powerhouse rockers “Jim Turbert style”. In fact I would argue that they did so to such a high degree that the above photo (coincidently taken during “that Rage song”) could happily sit among Mr Turberts.
For someone familiar with both band, and the artist, it not only seemed as if Jim were there on-stage playing the drums, but that the possibility of him being an astronaut was just as probable. That the artifice of the camera, and the expectation that the ‘staged’ photos were actually the lie. For a blessed hour or so Jim alter histories became real; rock god, spy, secret agent….
Guapo are a force to be rekond with.
I first saw them play in the small upstairs room of Cork’s Fred Zepplins in 2001, an utterly mind-shatteringly good gig. The bass player and drummer played four sheets to the wind for a total of eight people, eight surprised people. Samples of Cantonese Military chants mesmerized over bass loops, percussive sounds looped from the imput jack, hard ballsy bass lines and intricate stop/start start again jazz styled drumming with traces of military rolls and the drummer constantly verging on the edge of the unfathomable. Truly great. It changed my whole perception of music, awakened me momentarily to a world of unlimited possibilities.
So great was that initial impact that over the years I kept searching for them in record shops, and online. Stupidly not believing that they had taken in another member, I thus missed out on their later albums until 2008. Missed out on the many transformations, and sure that no music could compare to that one pure glimpse. After getting my hands on a copy of “Black Oni” the spell was recast. In 2009 I made up for my infraction by seeing them play twice in as many months.
The Sonic City Festival in Kortrijk, Belgium was an ideal setting to get reacquainted them. A small venue, and despite them not playing in the midst of the crowd, shoulders gathered around them on the floor, equally as transfixing as the first. It was a break from the earlier more aggressive sound of Hirohito, since then they had progressed into new territories and blended the noisier sensibilities of dark jazz from earlier recordings into a hybrid 70’s prog/zeuhl inspired animal that had traces of minimalist composers thrown in for good measure. I was once again caught in their world, though this one had reformed itself. Morphed into something of grace and danger. The addition of Keys and Guitar, though subtle, were enough to change the attitude from an animalistic primordial power, to an entire world held tenuously in the balance of creation and utter annihilation. The newest album “Elixirs” was a more gentle beast than than their breakthrough “Five Suns” which was the first album with multi-instrumentalist Daniel O’Sullivan. That night in Kortrijk they played in a haunted grace, aggressive bass sounds, heart pounding drum rhythms coursing the flow into cyclical patterns of regeneration, otherworldly Keys, the glitter suits, and sense of the theatrical only fuelled this sense of wonder.
The Roadburn festval in Tillburg, proved a harder crowd to win over than the Belgian or Irish, but they captivated the late-night-festival goers with another mind melting maelstrom which ended in a hypnotic tune that stayed in my head for a least a six month period, dogging my waking mind.
Guapo, yes please.
Isis playing Brussels on what turned out to be their final tour.
Highlights of the evening was definitely Circle, who stole the show with their ceremonial beheading by bass guitar, and hyperactive sense of the bizare. Well done.
Keelhaul were very good, though in true “support act” style their sound was absolutely abysmal. Why in this day and age do sound engineers insist on doing this outdated feudal shit to fine musicians I’ll never know.
