Monday, June 28, 2010

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Non Ferric Memories

Terreurs De Nuit - 1



LF Records & Children of Jermyn Present...

NIGHT TERRORS 1 - THURSDAY, 8TH JULY

An evening of noise, drone and weird sounds with...

JOINEDBYWIRE
deep guitar reverberations and dronewerk to rupture the cosmic fabric beyond all hope of repair.


LITTLE CREATURE
crawling limbless from the swamps of totton, this craven beast is a mirror on your collapsing self. the sound of the human body reversed.


SKJØLBAT
Dan Bennett & Matt Nolan improvisation duo with electronics and metal percussion. Ferric-demonology via the facial pentagram.


NON FERRIC MEMORIES
Cloudboy (ice bird spiral, autotistic) and Sam Bucha (luna pigeon) combine noise scuzz-ture, toys and skip-worthy paraphernalia to give you hypnotic seizures and aesthetic aneurisms.

with DSIC_JOCKEY soothing frayed nerve, spinning synth, ambient and kosmische music...

THE FRONT STAGE @ THE CROFT - 117-119 STOKES CROFT, BRISTOL, BS1 3RW - £DONATION - DOORS 8PM

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Opéra Mort - Je Suis Parmi Les Cinq Cents Personnes Que Tu Préfères Au Monde



Another foray in vinyl for Tanzprocesz… A nice, one sided gem from those Opera Mort boys... the b/w arts radiating a certain 'Bruitiste' quality as track one releases its swampy frequencies, that corpse dragging pace almost hamburger lady like… the valve maggots mixing well with the ectoplasmic mouth falls… sci-fi baubles bubbling through the tweetytronics and smarting circuitry. Queasy grubs exerting their full waxiness as knuckles hit the table top like hollow footfalls and cough medicine curls over a spoon in soggy beats and bypass pumps... drips in choruses of toy car accelerations, bends and sadometric stutters….

The second track bites at you with elephantine brackets and pulsing sap…ball bearing beats and trance crucifixions. The clank of speedy knitting needles getting hyper, the textures piling up like body bags of percussion… meaty slabs, covered in a cacophony of sharp edges, working deep into the veins of a rusted sequencer... abruptly silence by a scream. When it comes to post industrial psychosis these guys have it nailed...

Monday, June 14, 2010

Singing Knives - All Dayer - Chora, Part Wild Horses Mane On Both Sides, Pekko Kappi, Le Drapeau Noir - Part Two



Chora were more effects based than the preceding acts… a table covered in a spaghetti junction of boxes... flanked on one side by saxophonics, the other, bamboo pipes, Indian banjo and hub caps....the result, a drone with piling textures... Loved that one fingered Indian banjo ... the sax spurting over the pitch shifted chaos... a hint of Wolf Eyes about it......










the vox and trumpet sinking through the cracks. When the dronic waves subsided, the intricate details became more apparent... burned the brightest...

Suddenly the PA died and all the lights were reduced to meagre emergency ones…the power had failed... The Gracchus drummer suggested it was the post match kettle surge…he was probably right...


Part Wild Horses Mane On Both Sides decided to perform completely acoustically... Candles and tea lights providing an old time music hall vibe… those 'Bataille De Battle' percussive fits and lush flute silks melding together...






the drummer finding everything a worthy sound source, even turning his scramble for a dropped bow into part of the show, upending drum stands with metallic clicks and rhythmic floor scrapes… Sometimes the duo seemed to be on a separate trip... but mostly they drifted around each other with fearful ease and inventiveness... Kelly's flute breaking into bee stings … thistly stammers that stretched the singing bowl tongues Pascal was plying... The whirly-gig spirals of that piping on drum skin were sheer genius... thankfully my sneezing had subsided and didn't mire the intimacy.

Pekko Kappi was comfortable with the lack of power too, didn't recognise him at first due to the cropped hair... Alternating between two harps, his set glowed, Finnish folk songs that dealt with death, nasty diseases and black magic with a few relationship troubles mixed in for good measure.






Incredible sounds coming from just a trio of strings... voice electro statically charged, seemingly arguing with himself, his descriptions of the songs full of super dry humour... 'this is about being cast into hell's mouth and also a spell' adding '...um, a very bad spell'... must grab a copy of his latest LP sometime soon.





The finale was something else, the bodies on stage out-numbering the spectators... a clattering, caterwauling improv meltdown of all the days performers that sizzled for a chaotically superb 45 minutes...

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Singing Knives - All Dayer - Ross Parfitt, Infinite Light, Hunter Gracchus, Harappian Night - Part One



Hay fever was hitting pretty bad, nose explosions on the way across the M4, Peggy Suicide playing loud n proud, the lanes practically deserted due to the England game... Joe n me happy we were avoiding all that shurrazz... Dodgy air conditioning making the car a sweatbox...

Got there in plenty of time... the Singing Knives posse were still munching through BBQ sausage and burgers, so decided to wander Stokes for a bit... ah the sunshine, I've missed yr too long.... bumped into Team Brick who was full of DIY tee tips... then got all disappointed that the Croft didn't sell records anymore...where did those Crisis gems go... The Here shop provided plenty of twisted entertainment though... my sneezing echoing the basement galleries' walls...



Back at the Cube things had got off to a really cool start... Ross Parfitt was repeatedly banging the top bar of a triangle, creating a little toffee hammer resonance... a metallic ring that fed back on itself...small changes in the beat transformed themselves into a sequenced melody, pitting in peaking spurs... clean and cerebral ... apparently it was a Lucier piece, the name of which I've completely forgot....

Next up were screenings of people who sadly couldn't make the night, amongst them a storming set by The Family Elan filmed in some local pub, and a spellbound Steffen Basho Junghans performance, where the twang of his 12 string was offset with a myriad of watery patterns... warming you up for what was to come...



Infinite Light dabbled with radio interference, wandering the stage remotely switching the reception, a woodland walk projected on screen, the audio sounding like he was crunching leaves under foot... a greasy loop echoing every now and then with Lynchian disquiet...



Feedback swirling, spiney fish ... then the most aggressive guitar pummelling I've ever witnessed... savage downward plunges, clawed uppers, a mauled semi abstract blues, dismembered chords... blown out bulbs dying then resurging on a raw nerve... this scarily soft howl of a voice, choir-boy-esque gusts, haunted... haunting... bending branches... breathtaking...



Hunter Gracchus carried the high, the miasma they created, pure inspiration... a complete blur of activity...



couldn't work out who was doing what, but the sounds were frighteningly original, It looked like Fiona was playing a slashed inner tube as a flute... Not the gamelan eastern jam I was expecting, more of an alchemic free for all that fed off itself and shat it's guts in rainbow showers, clattering swirls of sensory overload that seemed to be pleasantly underpinned with a non-jarring vibe, unusual and utterly unique ...



no exaggeration... this was incredible stuff..... worth the admission charge alone, glad paul made it in time to catch the action...



The Harappian Night films that came next did my head in, I think if the garbled pace hadn't slowed, I would've had to calm down outside ... even if ironically, I thought they were bloody marvellous......

bizarre OCD horror movies, images assaulting your eyes like a magnified Angers 'Demon Brother', the continuity a jumble of conflicting sensations... the souped up, ramshackled Ganges vibe of the audio making things worse... in prep for Chora

(to be continued...)

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Kassette Kulture 30# - 20000 punks and Flat Forme



Two newbies from Tanzprocesz, part of their ongoing live series...

Vol 1 was recorded under a highway bridge by 20000 punks, a duo of Hess and Nafi, two prolific french musicians and founders of Plastobeton, The Dreams and AH Kraken. That monolithic key drone has a real 80’s feel... pure sci-fi thriller, a low budget redux of Escape From New York maybe, oscillating out on filmic strimmers, generating a satisfyingly menacing pace. The beats, animal heart muffles through paper thin skin, with wahs n scars shooting on through. Side two’s more of a duel of shavers on Tupperware. Drum machine panel punches mixed with wet pigeon harmonics. A simple key motif, given a cleaver beat massage… here’s wishing they played longer…

Vol 2 from the mysterious Flat Forme is more fragmented... Starts with an empty barrel thumping, coupled with an organ hop-scotch of UFO warbles and car alarms. Unravels on keyboard stitchings and durgical drums that have a whiff of early Neubauten about them, as a pleasant counter melody pipes out quietly from below deck… The synth-work on side two is deep and verby, with hydraulics growling the back stance. A chunky new wave develops, like a doped Joy Division but doesn’t really go anywhere until a cute Unicorn Hard-on synthesis breaks. An orchestration of Amstrad tennis gamers with vocal mermaids swimming around the nodding tide, as if they're channelling Lydia Tomkiw down a mobile.

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Zeek Sheck - The Fair

Simon Finn, Nurse With Wound and Current 93



Forum



Friday 28th May , HMV Forum, London

The Wounds were all lined up, Steven, Liles, Colin and Matt, throwing out a tasty dronic blend , bespeckled in skull lit circuitry; on screen, blood dropped through the wallpaper in lardy clumps as plummeting entrails slopped into a fruit bowl, a 70's living space going all abattoir. The orange lighting giving a greasy repugnant vibe to the eerie sensations purring out of the speakers.

A man pours petrol over a sleeping girl, drops the match, flames wrap round her, the music crackles, spurts, darts...

snuff movie

shrouded figures crawl dog like round the coffee table licked in flame... nonchalant occupants brush the flames away as if being annoyed by flies...

A gorgeous Simone type vox broke, supplied by a new face to NWW's live line-up Lynn Jackson... her wondrous voice poured out in decaying cycles that mixed well with the dancing mattresses on screen - made me think that recent Dirter vinyl re-shuffle may well be worth checking out...

Stevie S goes vocal

it's second pirate session of a strange wax

Guitars cut in, insistent rhythms gelled and some beautiful, primi-faust-type flaying ensued - full of crazy petroleum sniffing angles and cobblestoned orientations, as furniture fell down cliff faces in balls of dust...... an appetiser for the beat-boxed, slap-bass Rock n Roll Station finale of the night's performance... Steve chopping out the vocals, whilst some husky trumpet gave out 'culling' growls and broken Miles D's... Matt Waldron rattling a toy skull before disappearing from the stage.

Earlier, after the merch scrum Simon Finn was putting his songs across like his fingernails were full of burning matches, howling the words out as his hand grated the guitar... backed by the distinctive vibes Joolie Wood brings, with Maja Elliot swapping grand piano for Korg keyboard... made for intense listening.



Sporting an oversized top hat, Sebastian Horsley introduced the headliners with biting remarks and cutting intentions; this guy was seriously funny... revealing he'd known David since they both met in hospital for torn rectums...



Current were remarkable... and I'm not just saying that from a besotted fan perspective... reworking the Aleph material into slow burning affairs... especially loved the live treatment of ...Because the Fox Barks... words were given different emphasis... unveiling new explorations... then exploding as Neilson blasted the skins... Black Ships getting a radical mutated disco makeover...



The new stuff mixed well , Tibet's vocals lulling you in whispered curls, then ripping into your head with bright violence shadowed by Sarah Dietrich's vox that brought out Rose McDowell comparisons, her arms unnecessarily wavy. Always love Tibby's talent for turning the ridiculous into cryptic, the way he feeds light n dark into his strings of words, gathering them around him like attentive children then feeding off the whites of their captivated eyes...



They did a bit of back catalogue wandering, with Michael Cashmore supplying the striped acoustics for Mary Waits in Silence, Tibet wiping away the tears on Whilst the Night Rejoices Profound and Still... and my personal favourite, In The Heart Of The Wood... never thought I'd hear him say swastika again - LOL... Fields of Rape was a bit predictable, but brilliantly rendered with Tibet's Coptic teacher getting in on the action... and Niemandswasser's medieval swirls made for a great sign off. Wish I'd been there for Saturday's Lucifer over London though...