Monday, June 27, 2011

McDowell, Dogfaced Sockets, Radiant Sounds of Dust and more

16th June - The Croft, Bristol







A Sri Lankan fundraiser with lots of mystery bands... most were of the folksy persuasion which we checked out briefly... A few tasty diversions were had, but the main room seemed to be where it was at... and after the 'Felt' like chords of a solo McDowell (who I must say, singlehandedly captivated us with his guitar mastery) the Dogface Sockets dark cabaret of words and jarring shapes seriously stole our attention ... Hilariously too! …





The guitars spiky, whizzing to differing angles, Mini’s drumming gleefully kinetic, stumbling around that spurring guitar and vocal delivery as Jonathan’s voice darted from sinister creak to insane merriment… The drums enhanced the lunacy… pointing the punchlines, tweaking the dark humour in loose kettle bounces and shivering cymbal kisses…sort of Tiger Lillies-esque, sometimes shifting into Comus like territories but never too dire… Mr Olivetti leaned into my ear saying it was the best thing he'd seen all year… and they defo had a similar effect on me as they oozed with an English eccentricity, the likes of which I haven’t seen since the Cardiacs, Thinking Fellers, Stump or less familiar Noseflutes… Those imaginative word weaves and Aubrey Beardsley contours lodging oddly in the mind…great fun … Very tempted to catch more of the magic at the Folk House next month…





The headliners filled the stage with a mass of guitars… McDowell's front man making a re-appearance… the sound a mangle of Floyd-esque guitar licks, proggy edges and a fair bit of pedal distortion… slipping into druggier hazings, sounding uncanningly like Ultra Vivid Scene, the sonics full of jangly paraphrasing and climbing indie sensibilities, the vocal daubs all shimmering slurs… The last track rocketing off, people in front cartwheeling silver foil to the stoked vibe… the interlocking combos drawing out a psychoactive fuzz, spurs from the tambourine glinting in the soupy reverb…



Thursday, June 23, 2011

Gnar Hest – Tracts on how severe i welcome nonexistence as harsh as is



This is one continuous track plucked from one of the many alter egos of Matt Williams... a total escalator ride of churning synth-dom, elastically channelling the golden age of arcade gaming … This is brilliant, like some 8 bit shifting Tron travelogue, pacey, full of nibbling pixels tugging at your lobes in waves of pure optimism... A tongue in cheek homage to Kraftwerk’s Autobahn, packed with mutated Mario Kart shiny coin clambers and curdling key shivers …The architrave a curvy, joy splashed forecourt of goodness, pure sulphated agitation, filled with tasty shifts of action that fill your attention span right up to the 20(ish) minute cut off...

Sunday, June 19, 2011

sky dweller



...how about this for detail to drown in

Saturday, June 18, 2011

The Fedicia Exine Remixes - Various



Don’t really like remix albums, think they often fall prey to DJ egos slipping into that generically 'party album' pool, full of boring beats and sequenced bleep flips … but this collection is how I always imagined a remix album to be…a collection that breathes new directions and atmospheres from the original… and when the original is as stark as Doomed Bird’s Fedicia Exine I’m doubly amazed that so many people have managed to open so many new doorways from the raw goods … hats off to all included… these six tracks not only take an imaginative leap from the original but could be argued, stand out as tracks in their own right… the majority taking a rich vein of ambience and chord drone…with a few taking the dancey equation and running with it… either into filmic spreads or pure floor filling goodness…

For the first track things are stretched in a Troum styled homage… the raw ingredients becoming a chord impregnated distillation thrown to some Dali-esque perspective, a bassy broth expanding and contracting in space…

The second, penned by Rothko’s Mark Beazley keeps the original but introduces bassy stepping stones between the gaps before meandering off on twilight chords… Plenty of rich depth-charge riffage that gave me an irresistible urge to dig out my old Rothko records…like I need any excuses!

Position Normal opt for a gaseous squeeze…with watery tears… bicycle wheels with traffic noise on wet concrete… harp flutterings and glacial glide, pleasantly pastoral…

The next ticks my boxes completely as the original vox melts away on harmonium drone… … sort of sounds like it’s dwelling in a Lustmordal universe… the sound taking all sorts of interesting directions …modular jewels descending into some lute… milk bottles full of mechanical moths…garnished in tasty reverb Dettol… Mono piano fingers wrapping themselves around plodding drum patterns, like Eno circa mid to late 80’s… Fairy wing textures... and those beautiful modulated zithers… what’s not to love... I’ve been seeing clouds shaped like Klaus Schulze ever since…

Zoon van snooK edit is a complete dancey make-over…a Lemon Jelly mix of Spanish guitar and splatters of pilfered voice over hand claps… a funky mud bath of a track that leads to the chill-out curves and semi-realism of the last track…a junky’s ghosting of the original by Robert Logan … those Casio smears recalling Alan Wilder's side project Recoil all filmic synth-phonics and sampler combos dealing out pure atmospheric craftsmanship.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Indexes1 (Radical Laser Spectre) - Matt Loveridge



Imperceptible at first, until percussive blasts jolt you awake.. like the detonated blooms of soil from some WW1 newsreel, setting off a chain reaction in your ear of wet earth and startled hooves… further rubble hitting tin roofs as if a biblical rain of frogs. Through the clatter, a warm choral feed stretches like a neo classical slurry, making definite connections to the Xeroxed spires on the cover. The organ pitch steps between each drum sprawl reinforcing the ecclesiastical connection, as irregular wreckage is worked over in atonal scribbling, and DIY hells...

Matt never deals it monochrome, but fills your head with avalanches of variety and this disc is a siren carve up of the highest order, not overtly harsh, but pleasingly forceful, a jumble of drum patterns / vocals and plenty of screech-o-phonics. The wind tubes whistling light circles, chains dragging behind spurting tubular vents... Zapping lasers cutting in over a sweet ripple of metallic wings, wounded by sped up swordplay.

A gorgeous bleed strapped to a pulsing intent, striving higher, almost celestial. A centrifugal riot of colour with reparative yelling at its centre, the tension cascading back into a dying organ and the odd hint of tasty reverb finally fading on the exasperation of a piano innards … 22 minutes well spent…

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Monday, June 06, 2011

Belltone Suicide – Cartilage Evaporator




This is like glacial fluidity submerged within buried sirens, subtle, nomadic! Slinky loose steps into a pathway door, a slow motion circus sped up in stop frame with fizzed out fireworks, and that was just the opening into this documented adventure. Static turbulence and shifts that behold... vocalised unicorn satellites emitting, to scratch at those buried, unleashed! KACKER HAPPY swirls, exotic trips consumed into mumbled euphoria and pulsing out in sections all aquatic foam... signals disturbed, swimming rippled waters.. skipping, one foot off the ground stopped in motion, striding elegantly. Swan songs with crackled transmissions of messages, then x-files alien invasion bowling with a Tetris landslide, dripping into a self filling waterfall. Xerox, scan printers, distinguished fireworks, and whizzes into asteroids, tinkering flickers that emerge into blares, slowly and suddenly motors hum and pass... Perfect for the nocturnals, a document for the witching hours!!! A total joy to experience within its many avenues.

by Joey C.

Sunday, June 05, 2011

Sacragoon



coming soon...

Matt Loveridge, Thought Forms and Six Organs of Admittance

Friday 3rd June - The Cube Bristol





Matt (Loveridge) formerly Team Brick... subscribed to differing degrees of cruelty... betwixt floods of crocus spikes and plate glass jostle there was an exasperated lung machine crammed with sewing needles... yelling, whispering. Hyenas crushing glass bottles, rolling the broken shards around their gums. It was a real 'patchwerk' of noise joy... as the layers on layers became a hessian of false narratives, giving out a gideon of tonal claws. Dragging the subliminal ' allhummingbirdsmustdie through my head, a bludgeon of Kari arms and paralytic tv's. Thought forms' drummer, Guy, adding a guest bit of pounding skin to the equation... Matt greedy for increased volume... Guy obliging... but for all the effort, he sounded like a distant boxing match on rough canvas to the guitar monolith Matt decided to implant. Real clenched fist material with dull hail on bendy windows, fading out on xylophonic tics that left the girl behind me in spasms of laughter... a pretty impressive take on INDEXES 2 that left me green with envy...









Thought forms were up next... that new amp of Deej's like a cave of evil bats, as if the treble was holding the bass in torn carrier bags, giving out a multitude of unholy sonics... Proceedings started with Deej in crosslegged evocation... bringing on a trickle of chords, Charlie's flute sadly lost in the ampage... drums not far behind stalking their prey, a rising brew of interchanging textures, growing fast, getting lost in total guitar love. The duo's vocals coming across really well, better than ever ... smeared between the jangle of jubilant shapes and pogo(ing) bodies, rolling back into a spacey shoal of hungry barracuda. The effect afterimages lingering in the ear, unfurling hooks that led to a finale that ripped at your head in delicious demi-god-like savagery. A bit of a short set from the 'forms' but nevertheless satisfying, leaving the audience crazy for an encore, that sadly failed to materialised...







Haven't seen Six Organs since they played Seymour's back in 2006 with Lisa Germano, Mr Wood and those awesome Sunburned guys... but this time he was totally solo, pared back and utterly captivating, just voice and electro-acoustic. His fingers were all over the place, on an improvising vibe, messing with time signatures, tempos and the like with warmth flowing out of those strings... at one point turning them into a throbbing pylon full of vibratory shimmer as if it were a souped up synth... curling the drone back into a meandering codex of frightened rabbits, his fret fingers sending out semaphores... and lots of silence, interrupted by the gurgling of somebody's ringtone... with the last track being a dedication to Phil McMullen of Terrascope.



Another great night amongst friends, the cool summer night despatched in conversation and Cube cola, a touch of greasy chicken caught on the breeze... and Beefheart departures down the M4

Thursday, June 02, 2011

The Memory Surface discs A/B - Nurse With Wound



A 78' grain, crinkle puckered in birdie recoil…a harpist smothered in dust and zither string zig zag …Ghostly utterances and murmers haunting the space …these two discs are seriously antiqued... the sound clogged in cobwebs and insect husks reflecting the scratched nature of the F.W. Murnau silent movie it was soundtracking…

The grooves are slipping like wet tongues in dry mouths, sucking operatic scales backwards, fingerings of chamber music fringed in Miss Havisham’s rotting lace … half submerged snippets of classical / 20’s music hall, sounding like an overtly sinister episode of Bagpus … giving out Shining vibes… glassy flashes of Jack reflected in the eyes of barkeep Lloyd… goosebumps a plenty...

The disconcerting headphone canters are brilliant… darting between left and right channels… climbing in volume, toying with your psyche, details continually spiking the foreground…giving out those falling awake heebyjeebies… the drift, a deliciously tattered, raggedy disembodiment …suspended in smeary sustain…, The gramophone crackling like rain, sizzling fat, a tattooists needle scrawling purgatories across milky skin… guitar picked phrases leaking through garbled curses… If you listen too closely you might even hear a few long dead relatives.

Without losing any of the accrued mood, the end of the second disc features two early demos of tracks fully realised on The Surveillance Lounge album. These are a bit lowercase n sketchy as you'd expect, practically skeletons of the final product, a disc that is up there along with the eerie rivers of Sugar Fish Drink or the mental wonk of Homotopy to Marie.