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Carl StoneElectronic Music From 1972-2022Unseen Worlds
Where previous compilations of Carl Stone’s music have focused on a couple of decades each from his colourful career, Electronic Music From 1972-2022 takes a bird’s eye view. Journeying from early tape-mangling experiments through to contemporary computer led abstraction, these 11 songs map the development of the lifelong experimenter’s process as he hacks new technologies and delves into an ever-expanding archive of recorded sound. There’s an abundance of ideas and possibilities, juxtapositions and unlikely interactions explored across these tracks. But what comes across most clearly is that for Stone, a sound’s potential doesn’t end when it’s been recorded. It’s only just beginning.
Music For Snare Drums And Portable Speakers‘ title reveals the tools Conal Blake, Regan Bowering and Li Song work with, but it doesn’t capture their mesmeric effect. Their process is built around a changing exploration of resonance, feedback and motion, a recent live performance seeing the trio swing snare drums and mics from a venue’s ceiling to create a richly textured miasma. What’s most intriguing about this tape is how the effect of their process lands when you take out the visual component. The A-side was recorded live at Hackney Marshes. At the centre, a feedback whine takes on a pendular gait, swaying in a way that’s tentatively melodic, almost voice-like. Thicker snare vibrations amass alongside trembling low-frequencies, reaching looming stasis within the outdoor sounds that surround. The second side, recorded indoors at Cafe OTO, dwells in a less serene, more possessed zone where chirrups, rattles and clunks splutter out of a ghostly ether. Taken as audio alone with no idea what the three players were doing, it has a supernatural edge, objects animating seemingly of their own accord through fields of resonance and feedback.
Fronted by ex-Hey Colossus guitarist Rhys Llewellyn, Thee Alcoholics are so smitten with the quality end of 90s alt rock that for this live album they copied the design of Therapy?’s classic ‘Opal Mantra (Live)’ seven-inch. A studio album is on the way but for the time being there are plenty of repeated scuzzy riffs and much indecipherable yelling to enjoy here.
Across three LPs, one seven-inch and a set of art cards, one of which includes a scratch and sniff image that releases the “smell of an authentic Akron, Ohio tire factory”, this collection of rare and previously unheard tracks by Devo offers a fascinating glimpse of the band transforming from their art project origins into the group that David Bowie would later declare “the band of the future”. ‘Live Forever’, ‘Androgyny’, ‘Man From The Past’ and ‘I Don’t Know Why’ are all previously obscure gems. Early versions of classic tracks such as ‘Uncontrollable Urge’ or ‘Shrivel Up’ showcase the band at a more confrontational stage playing at an almost Flipper-like slowed-down tempo amid distorted electronic swathes of noise. The sound quality varies, as one would expect, but the overall dirty, fuzzy vibe seems entirely in-keeping with the band’s express intention of combining the caveman of the past with the future devolved human, “sort of like The Flintstones meets The Jetsons”, as founding member Jerry Casale once said.
Scheiße ’71 is the work of an energetic and agitated ensemble that includes personal favourite, the free jazz vocalist Jeanne Lee, as well as drummer Sven-Ã…ke Johansson; Lee’s other half Gunter Hampel on vibes, flute and bass clarinet; live electronics pioneer Michael Waisvisz on synthesiser; and Freddy Gosseye on electric bass (who even the sleevenotes say is largely unknown). From the very start, the audience all sound like they’re wriggling unhappily in their seats, then Waivisz farts in on a series of fizzy and flatulent exclamations that must have driven them up the wall. The quiet passages are quite beautiful and strange, and there’s a wonderful interplay between moments of particularly caustic synths and angelic vibes whereas in the thicker passages the electronics make things harsh and beastly. Lee rides the waves of sound in essential utterances – at one point repeating “get it out, get it out” in a stuttering delivery I’m not sure isn’t directed at the rabble of an audience. An amazing document of ensemble and audience.
54.
The BodyI Shall Die Here / Earth TriumphantRVNG Intl.
Where Christs, Redeemers, The Body’s album before 2014’s I Shall Die Here, represented the zenith of their ever-expanding scope, and showed the broadest, most varied ranges of their despair, I Shall Die Here plunged to even greater, more remote and isolated depths, stripping back most of the existential adornments to leave behind something altogether far more nightmarish. With The Haxan Cloak’s warped bass and electronic undulations bleeding through the Portland duo’s actually rather restrained, but no less punishing assault, it’s actually the comparative lack of clutter (not to mention the sound bites of people talking about suicide, as opens ‘Hail To Thee, Ever Lasting Pain’) that makes the record so much more threatening. And so painfully rewarding. This reissue expands the record, taking in additional material recorded around the same time as the album.
Of the various musicians who, having once been part of the private-press American new age scene of the 1970s and 80s, were then discovered by post-millennial Blogspot guzzlers, the reappraisal of Pauline Anna Strom – a blind synth arranger whose exquisite compositions tapped into a spirit world – had especially posi vibes. Her death in 2020, just before the release of a new album, was therefore especially sad, but this box set of her first three LPs, plus the previously unreleased Ocean Of Tears is a justly lavish tribute.
52.
SuicideA Way Of Life (35th Anniversary Edition)Mute / BMG
Suicide’s origins in the early 70s New York arts scene were so chaotic that it must have surprised many that in 1988 they were managing to release a third album, not to mention one that in many ways was their most coherent and structured. As ever with this wonderful, still under-regarded partnership, it was a perfect marriage of Martin Rev’s interest in electronics and machines and Alan Vega’s belief that the best tribute he could pay to his beloved rock & roll was to butcher it, but with love.
Originally released in 2001 and given a much-needed reissue by Tresor at the start of 2023, DJ Shufflemaster’s debut and only album to date is a forgotten classic of the hardgroove techno genre that dominated the dance floors of underground clubs in the late 90s and early 00s. ‘Imageforum’ and ‘Fourthinter’ pair the hardgroove sound with pads reminiscent of the best 90s Detroit techno, while cuts like ‘Innervisions’ and ‘Onto Your Body’ hypnotise with their rolling, minimalist loops. At a time when European dance floors are being overloaded with pile-driving kick drums and hackneyed references to old rave music, EXP is a reminder of the funk and groove that is integral to all of the best techno.
During the first half of Tonic 19-01-2001, the density of Tony Conrad’s carefully chosen pitch combinations is almost overwhelming. But what happens in the final stretch is quite remarkable. Light and space gradually seep into the thick string textures, with Conrad cutting through the drones with a pizzicato figure on monochord. The instrument’s mid-range thunk has a gentler sonic impact than the violent bow strokes of the first half, but it marks a significant shift in the music. With Jim O’Rourke’s hurdy gurdy maintaining a shimmering drone, Arnold Dreyblatt is free to carve out distinctive figures of his own, his gulping bass glissandi complementing Conrad’s stately violin. Over time, these shapes fall away, as the trio unites in a gorgeous pastoral drone that slowly fades like the sun setting on the horizon. It’s an incredible performance, up there with Four Violins in the Conrad discography, and a landmark release from an essential label.
49.
Various ArtistsRichard Sen Presents Dream The Dream: UK Techno, House And Breakbeat 1990-1994Ransom Note
Richard Sen has been here and there in UK club culture since acid house kicked in, but it might be as a curator where he’s most valuable. Basically, someone lets him compile a crucial bunch of old singles about once a decade, and following Powercuts (mid-80s electro, 2002) and This Ain’t Chicago (early Brit acid, 2012), here’s Dream The Dream. These ten early 90s UK techno cuts showcase the genre’s rapid flux, highlighting its trance, pop, jazz, prog, hardcore and bleep tendencies before everything got more stylistically rigid.
Raï music, a rebel folk style which originated in the Algerian port city of Oran, has had checkered fortunes. It was initially derided by the Algerian intelligentsia, struggling with censorship and even the murder of musicians in the 90s before finding mainstream acceptance, and in France, a number of raï artists had enormous success for a period from the late 80s until the genre started to fade from view over the course of the 00s. But at the end of 2022, raï was inscribed by UNESCO on their lists of Intangible Cultural Heritage Of Humanity, and recent documentaries and compilations are provoking a revival of interest. Born Bad’s superb compilation surveys an era when the musicians were absorbing electronic influences – rather as a younger generation have engaged with Auto-Tune and global dance sounds – giving rise to, for example, Houari Benchenet’s spectral, pulsating ‘Malika’ and the squelchy basslines and wayward synths of Chaba Fadila’s ‘Ki Kount Ouelite’, as well as reggae-raï fusion and propulsive electro beats.
Sisterworld opens with a gentle, a cappella lament. A scene that draws you in with its stupefying mysticism; inviting you to feel the sensation of staring at somebody who is bleeding out on the floor. Somebody in the process of dying. That feeling of time stopping as you realise that this is an image that will be frozen in your mind for the rest of your life. But the world doesn’t work that way. Time doesn’t stop. There’s somebody actually there – life disappearing from their body; their guts spilling out onto the floor – and you need to spring into action. Adrenaline hits, and guitars and hectic drums flood the scene as ‘Scissor’ drags you back and forth. Then, things calm, and the blood begins to dry as you realise that your cowardice and inability to act will define you. It’s a staggering opening to a record, and not one I’ve considered in these terms for years. But now is the right time to revisit, with Liars’ fifth album, Sisterworld, having been reissued as part of an ongoing excavation of their back catalogue.
As uncompromising and unpretentious as the club night it celebrates, this box set invites you in but doesn’t organise your response for you. Nor does it engage with the inevitable drift of club culture into the cold stasis of the museum. It is not mixed, micro-managed or fussily curated. It would laugh with derision at the very idea. There are 12 artists here and, in-keeping with the club night’s general ‘no rules’ approach, each was asked to provide one old tune and one unreleased one as they saw fit, and that’s what you get. The result is pleasingly consistent but varied. Nothing jars, and it makes just as much sense however you shuffle the tunes. It also doesn’t drag even while running to nearly two-and-a-half hours. The trick is in trusting who you ask I guess.
45.
Cheval de FriseFresques Sur Les Parois Secrètes Du CrâneComputer Students
Following last year’s reissue of their debut album, defunct French duo Cheval De Frise – comprising Thomas Bonvalet (L’Ocelle Mare, Powerdove) on nylon-string guitar and Vincent Beysselance on drums – have been treated to another deluxe package, complete with beautiful artwork, courtesy of New York-based Computer Students. Their sound had affinities with math rock, flamenco and jazz while remaining utterly distinctive, and appears in a slightly more concentrated form on Fresques Sur Les Parois Secrètes Du Crâne. Each piece is still a dazzling, spiralling high-wire act, but melodies sing out more clearly and cut even deeper.
This 105-minute double-CD live recording, performed by the seemingly uncredited Orchester des Orgien Mysterien Theaters, sounds vast and expansive: symphonic, tonally evolving organ drone, eternal music with the essence of the theatre. What’s even more remarkable is that it’s just a small part of the ‘six-day play’ conceived by Austrian performance art radical Hermann Nitsch and performed here in a castle, a few months after his death last year. What a guy, what a tribute.
43.
Various ArtistsUnruly Records Anthology: 1991-1995 (The Early Years)Unruly
Back in the early 90s, Scottie B and the crew behind Unruly Records pretty much defined the Baltimore club sound and were amongst the first to seal it on wax. This is the first of three anthologies planned for release by the label to celebrate its 30th anniversary and it is just about the purest, dumbest, biggest fun out there, all chopped up breakbeats, whoops, yells, exhortations to “break it down”, “smoke that shit” or “say ho” and frankly not much else. But what more do you need? This record is a little packet of pure party. In case of emergency: break glass and shake that thing.
A hidden gem of the 90s Czech music scene, Smetana is a mesmerising record from a band gathered around the figure of Pavel Richter, who played in several avant-garde rock groups, including Å vehlÃk, Marno Union and Elektrobus, and became one of the foremost figures of the Prague scene, which opposed the country’s socialist regime of the 70s and 80s. Smetana is a meditative, subtle work in which musical structures develop gradually in the spirit of the American school of minimalism and the shifting soundscapes of Brian Eno and Robert Fripp. The most significant elements are the subtle passages of Richter’s electric guitar and the fidlerophone – a unique percussive instrument invented by LuboÅ¡ Fidler, made of jars and struck by plastic strainers, which sounds like Tibetan bowls or Gamelan. Some ambient, fourth-world elements intertwine with new age and ethno-experimental sounds, as well as Slavic mysticism in the spirit of Svitlana Nianio or Księżyc.
41.
Lingua IgnotaTHE END: LIVE AT ISLINGTON ASSEMBLY HALLPerpetual Flame Ministries
Before retiring the LINGUA IGNOTA moniker for good, Kristin Hayter let the project go out with a bang with two final shows at London’s Islington Assembly Hall earlier this year. THE END captures the first night in full, as Hayter holds a packed room rapt in uncomfortable reverie while she performs a host of songs from her back catalogue as an hour-long medley, armed with just a piano and her extraordinary voice. The intimate setting makes these songs feel even more cathartic and harrowing than they do on record. When Hayter finishes and sarcastically quips, “What a bunch of bops, huh?”, it slices the tension like a knife; you can practically feel the air breezing past you from the crowd’s collective sigh of relief. The closing covers of Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game’ and Dolly Parton’s ‘Jolene’ are a necessary palette cleanser after such an intense and confrontational listen, feeling like a warm hug from a friend after bawling your eyes out for 60 minutes straight.
Bulbous Monocle’s third release of Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 material gathers together remastered tracks from singles, compilations, outtakes and previously unreleased gems across a double LP. There are covers of The Residents, Ennio Morricone, Krzysztof Komeda, The Shaggs and fellow San Francisco-based industrial bluegrass-experimental-noise collective Caroliner, as well as an amusing reworking of a John Cale and John Tudor piece. 20 tracks range from the relatively accessible Sonic Youth-esque ‘2x4s’ and the gently goofy ‘Strange Mail’ with its twanging western guitar and quaintly charming Optigan keyboard, to more bizarre tape manipulation experiments like ‘The Kids Are In The Mud’ and the brilliantly propulsive banjo electro of ‘Shiny Pig’. Listeners who are new to these guys may be initially confused by a band who can sound like Yo La Tengo or Pavement at times, and The Residents or Negativland at others, but that’s all part of their ineffable appeal. The first three tracks are idiosyncratic but wonderfully hummable bits of wonky pop Americana, and the Ennio Morricone medley is thrillingly epic, but the weird bits that initially make you think “WTF?” will also get under your skin if you let them.
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