Illustration by Lisa Cradduck
The first thing I need to write is a heartfelt thank you. I’ve often wondered, every time we put together our half year and yearly charts about our favourite records, if this one will be the penultimate, or the last, we’re able to do. TQ might now be 15, a fairly venerable age for a publication, but there’s been no point in that time where the whole operation hasn’t been on shaky financial grounds, due to the vagaries of advertising, social media hollowing out digital publishing, algorithms and so on.
Our recent campaign to boost our subscriber numbers has been a success in that it has recharged the tanks for the near-future – John, myself and all of us at tQ want to thank everyone who signed up to keep the wolf from the door in our subs push a couple of months ago. Direct support seems to be the only future for independent publishing, and we hope as many of you as possible might consider joining the illustrious number of our existing subscribers – you can do so via our Steady page here, and gain bonus editorial, a newsletter, podcasts, playlists and exclusive music every month. If we can keep the subs up, this chart of music for the middle of our fifteenth year will hopefully just be one of many more to come.
While the hard coin that our subscribers contribute is the tangible fuel that keeps us going, the music you’ll find below is a rarer, more elusive and strange form of sustenance, without which we’d have had to give up years ago. I know I would be unable to do this job if, for whatever reason, I thought everything was shite. As it is, I struggled to cut down my list to the number that John had requested, amazing music alas falling by the wayside – for now at least. On the flipside, there are quite a few records on here that I’ve never heard of, that like many of you I’ll be getting to know and love over the coming months. I hope you’ll find as much reward in these records as our compilers have, and that they’ll be illuminated by the words we’ve written about them.
No matter what superannuated lords of the poptimist centre like Ed Sheeran might say, there’s a joy in writing about music that we continue to find as infectious, inspiring and life-affirming as ever, especially as the margins the good ship tQ sails remain such an impossibly rich kaleidoscope of sound and invention. Thanks for reading, thanks for supporting, and thanks for listening.
Luke Turner, June 2023
This chart was voted for by Quietus staff and columnists. It was compiled by John Doran and built by Patrick Clarke and Christian Eede.
100.
Girl In The Half Pearl is a metamorphosis in many ways, encapsulating the stress, deep introspection and eventual acceptance that goes hand in hand with the desire to access a complete sense of freedom. It’s an album that is hard to categorise but its methodical beats, otherworldly production, intriguingly chaotic clashes of melody and hazy vocals all inexplicably mesh together, with Liv.e leaning further and further towards a vital point of breakthrough.Liv.eGirl In The Half PearlIn Real Life
99.
Let’s accept, for argument’s sake, that some improvised music – from the thousands of hours’ worth recorded each year – does take itself too seriously, is arid and dour and gives no indication of anyone involved having fun. Then consider Manuncian quartet Historically Fucked and their new album, The Mule Peasants’ Revolt Of 12,067. It sounds like an unstoppable party! Sure, one for a selective clientele, who dig Fluxus methodology, Skin Graft Records catalogue obscurities and the well-spoken goofballs of post-AMM British free music – but those people might just dance you squares under the table.Historically FuckedThe Mule Peasants’ Revolt Of 12067Upset The Rhythm
98.
Melting sees ABADIR dive into the archives, fusing together 500-ish snippets from video and radio. The piece is based on his master’s thesis, in which he strove to “synthesise music and sounds works and a vision engaged with the past without being nostalgic or succumbing to the capitalist nostalgia industry.” The result is genuinely psychedelic, in that it acts on the working of the mind, these blasts of pop hits, critical theory lectures and media detritus blending together and knocking our brains into plotting new relationships. Generating an essay-like montage somewhere between Negativland and The Arcades Project, ABADIR delivers a radically askance glance on past and present alike.ABADIRMeltingDrowned By Locals
97.
A lesser known but essential chapter of Yugoslav new wave, the debut LP by the Zagreb-based outfit Karlowy Vary, originally released in 1985, was reissued this year by the Slovenian label Matrix Music. The band, with Margita Stefanović from the cult Belgrade band Ekaterina Velika on keyboards and the enigmatic Varja Orlić on mic, whose commanding voice brings to mind the haunting depth of post-Velvet Nico, unfortunately disbanded only a year after its release. La Femme brings forth a seductive cocktail of new wave mysticism, funked-up rock riffs, colourful synth hues, goth and post-punk intellectualism and modernist poetry, and still sounds as fresh as ever.Karlowy VaryLa FemmeFreedom To Spend
96.
Saccades is truly human dance music – a symbiotic collaboration between interfaces, musicians, instruments and cultures. Nowhere does that better resonate than on the final track ‘Remo Rom’, remixed by Farmers Manual. The Austrian electronic experimentalists punctuate the intimacy of Ugandan folk singers with burbling, obverse rhythmic structures and blasts of noise and distortion. The racket is hypnotic – a Frankenstein mess that lumbers towards the edge of musical intelligibility before falling apart under its own weight.Rian TreanorSaccadesNyege Nyege Tapes
95.
The strongest feeling that Little Simz’s fifth album evokes is one of acceptance, of being understood, of belonging somewhere or to someone – like after a cathartic talk with a lifelong friend. Simz’s lyrical brilliance and emotional intelligence permeates the NO THANK YOU‘s verses, reflecting on the music business, intimacy and spirituality. Seemingly more laidback and instrumentally skeletal, more old school, when compared to the more ambitious orchestral manoeuvres of its predecessor Sometimes I Might Be Introvert, the synergy with her producer compadre Inflo (one of the greatest out there) and backing vocalist Cleo Sol remains stellar throughout the record.Little SimzNO THANK YOUForever Living Originals
94.
Homing begins with a conversation and ends with a sound somewhere between a snore and a revving engine. The Estonia-born, Gothenburg-based Liis Ring’s songs reside in a similar zone to that explored by Adela Mede and Martyna Basta, one where the diaristic weaves into the ineffable imprint of folklore and mundane surroundings alike. Ring’s compositions are more rooted in urban places, and the way she incorporates far off singalongs and up-close conversations into her songs echoes the vibrant field recording narratives of Pierre Mariétan. Whether it’s the bird song dancing through gloaming synths on ‘after-image I: nothing stands still’, or the splashing percussion on ‘after-image IV’, every sound feels symbiotically connected to every other. In other words, they’re diegetic wholes rather than songs over backgrounds.Liis RingHomingCanigou
93.
If this is the end of the road for Oozing Wound, then that is an enormous shame, particularly because We Cater To Cowards is another triumph, as well an Olive Oyl-legged step forward. For starters, the influence of the mighty and massively underrated TAD is heftier than ever. Also with a waft of The Jesus Lizard to its sinister swing and feedback-ridden noise-rockiness, album cut ‘Total Existence Failure’ provides further evidence that this lot are fully aware there are plenty of rival varieties of music that can often outstrip the heaviness of heavy metal.Oozing WoundWe Cater To CowardsThrill Jockey
92.
Inspired by experimental radio plays like those once created by the BBC Radiophonic Workshop or the German Hörspiel, the surrealistic narrative of Une Aventure De VV (Songspiel) fuses elements of Tarkovsky and the Strugatsky brothers’ Stalker with aspects of Alice In Wonderland and Jean Cocteau’s Orphée. Exiting her room via a window and leaving her ability to use language behind, the character VV embarks on a journey during which she converses with non-human beings (birds, trees and rocks), destroys a vast wall, and enters into a dead zone that exists “beyond all maps.”Aksak MaboulUne Aventure De VV (Songspiel)Crammed Discs
91.
Pulsing space rays, bird calls, snake-charming woodwind lines, harsh noise stabs, chew toy squeaks, and bouncing rhythms in the vein of Black Dice mingle together across Dreams In Splattered Lines. There are too many moments of passing brilliance to catalogue them all, but against all odds they ultimately fit into a close-knit and almost catchy whole. While their exact nature might be unknown to us, there is method to this entropy, an invisible conceptual force that allows Wolf Eyes to discover yet another avenue of their creative prowess.Wolf EyesDreams In Splattered LinesDisciples
90.
Under his given name, as well as the alias Tikiman, Paul St. Hilaire has lent his voice to some of the most important dub techno-adjacent records of the last few decades, collaborating with the likes of Rhythm & Sound, Deadbeat and Vainquer. St. Hilaire’s first solo album since 2006 sees him act as lead producer and vocalist, and picks up on the understated, dubbed-out sounds of those past records. Opener ‘Bedroom In My Bag’ throws back to his gorgeous 2003 collaboration with René Löwe, ‘Faith’, while cuts like ‘Little Way’ and ‘Bright One’ recall those classic Rhythm & Sound link-ups of the late ’90s and early ’00s. St. Hilaire’s production is a masterclass in subtlety and minimalism across Tikiman Vol. 1, and one could happily listen to his artful, dubby loops unfurl for hours.Paul St. HilaireTikiman Vol. 1Kynant
89.
Philadelphian dungeonpunx Poison Ruïn don’t fit the preexisting image (or mine, anyway) of a DIY band who sign to a big metal label, but Relapse – their patrons for Härvest, the group’s debut album proper after a few scarce EPs – relinquished any coherent ‘sound’ long ago, for better or worse. The result bears little indication of having been created with the short-term intention of stepping into the arenas: like the earlier Poison Ruïn tapes, which Relapse are reissuing simultaneously with Härvest, these songs are recorded in spartan style but convey high drama through a sound somewhere between post-punk, death rock, anarcho-punk and metal.Poison RunHärvestRelapse
88.
As thrilling as the first half of Earth Reaper is, it feels like a mere warm-up compared to its colossal 20 minute title track, which voyages through deep drone/doom territory before belting Sabbath-esque leads over punishing blasts and huge seas of crumbling, fizzing noise atop swinging grooves – it’s like Amplifier Worship-era Boris and early Dragged Into Sunlight being sucked into a black hole and melding together. There’s much to love about Wallowing – their evocative conceptual focus, their theatrical, maximalist aesthetic, their sensory overload of a live show – but the main thing that resonates here for me is just how smoothly they manage to blend elements from a host of extreme metal sub-genres into a sound that defies easy categorisation whilst remaining cohesive, organic and inventive.WallowingEarth ReaperChurch Road
87.
Imagine the Situationists were sounds artists who took aim at the contemporary mindfulness industry and you’ll have some idea of what to expect on Spiritual™. The side-long piece (the B-side is an instrumental version, the digital includes an a capella) sees Fiona Scott impersonate a guided mindfulness experience over a sound bath turned toxic. It lambasts a situation where spirituality and mindfulness are commercialised – in other words, wellbeing is only visible if it has economic ramifications. The wry detournement in the voiceover starts subtly before becoming increasingly explicit and absurd; “Think of this as a sonic WD40.” Anyone who’s ever had a work mental wellbeing seminar that keeps looping back to discussions of maintaining productivity will find something familiar here.UnpersonSpiritual™OOH-sounds
86.
I’m afraid there is no other way to put this – this is an album of bangers. ‘Touch Me’ – on which Aidan’s vocals play-off sinuously with those of Manchester singer-songwriter Clara La San – rides in on a groove that is equal parts Balearic anthem and imperial-phase Madonna. On ‘Reface’, even the trademark extravagantly filtered vocals and sonic effects (theorised by critics like Adam Harper and Dan Barrow as quirks of a new accelerationist sub-genre called ‘distroid’) can’t hide the fact that it is broadly channelling the vibe of a Radio 1 Essential Mix circa 2003 (in a good way). Even more gloriously, the drum track in ‘Wild N Sweet’ recalls nothing so much as Gala’s ‘Freed From Desire’, a startling – and not unwelcome – moment in the oeuvre of an artist with a reputation for apocalyptic sonic brutalism. You can almost taste the cheap champagne at Liquid & Envy.Jam CityJam City Presents EFMEarthly
85.
Richard Skelton captures the expanse of the universe on Selenodesy by layering contrasting textures, creating depth. No moment stays in stasis for too long: ‘hypervelocity’, for example, builds from a pillowy, rippling sound, but just when things feel their most graceful, a sharp pang slices through them, offering a change of pace, while ‘lesser gravity’ begins with haunted shimmers that gradually turn into pointy icicles as the track progresses. Elsewhere, Skelton plunges into a black hole of sound, clawing his way back out. ‘The plot of lunar phase’ grows from an ominous, deep drone, layering sharp squeals and eerie hums on top, occasionally sprinkling in some hollow twinkles to offer a little lightness. In moments like these, Skelton’s music depicts the immensity of the night sky, but also the fear that can arise from peering into it, the feeling of being engulfed in the unknown.Richard SkeltonSelenodesyPhantom Limb
84.
23wa sounds like he makes music in his own bubble, serenely indifferent to prevailing French trends. His previous opus, 2022’s 3, was a glitchy, saturated, bewildering and hilarious sprawl of chopped beats, incongruous samples and fractured structures, both obsessively detailed and delightfully sloppy. Rorschach continues in that vein – the title of ‘Sable Mouvant’ (quicksand or shifting sand) is apt; the rug is constantly being pulled out from beneath you. Sometimes the experience is like skipping rapidly between different stations – halfway through, ‘Keske’ suddenly tumbles its way into a hyperactive drum & bass section – and at others it’s as though you’re hearing several songs simultaneously: ‘Plaine Noire, Siècle Zero’ comes over like 23wa is clashing with a hardcore noise outfit playing in the room next door, the distortion bleeding through the walls.23waRorschachAMURcorp
83.
Dust Gatherers starts with ‘An Overture’, an instrumental and impressionistic two-minute intro featuring wind chimes that dissolves itself into a drone of sound. The following ‘Blessing’ summons up the mediaeval chants of Hildegard of Bingen and goes on as a prayer: “May God bless us in sleep with rest, in dreams with vision, in awakening with a calm mind, in a soul with the friendship of a holy spirit.” The album then sets off on a journey through myriad visions, evoking distinct images. The undulating harmonies of ‘Hitchhiker’ conjure up a drive across a constantly changing landscape. Like most of the record, the track features strings and keyboards, taking off with bubbling synths that remind me of animated sci-fi films.Seaming ToDust GatherersO SingAtMe
82.
This tape of bagpipes (French smallpipes to be precise) will bore a hole from the crown of your skull to the core of the earth. ‘Canon’ plays with five pipes in phased counterpoint, while ‘Gravir’ elaborates upon a Shepherd tone with a metronomic tapping, so you know time still exists and what it sounds like to count the seconds as you move ever closer towards the fate that awaits us all. Obliterate thyself.Jacques PuechGravir / CanonInSub
81.
With Bocca D’Ombra, you can go for a walk while sitting down: you could do worse this month than listening to the huffs and puffs of ‘Albanella’, which are decorous with bird sounds, slow dirges, and amateur brass. Rosso Polare are Cesare Lopopolo and Anna Vezzosi, and they write about how folklore and a human-nature connection is at the root of this album. However, while there’s scope to think deeper about the latter – a cock crows in sync with a horn parp, night insects accompany a frantic hardware thud – I found it at its best when I shut off my thinking brain and just listened, inducing a thoroughly pleasant trip. Time out of mind.
