Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Stuart Chalmers and Robert Ridley-Shackleton - Blunders



The A side's like a re-imagining of Alan's psychedelic breakfast from the Floyd's Atom Heart. The beginning, a kitchen draw rummage of sound sources, which slither nicely into a novel series of loops, blends and spectacular blurs... getting all excitable, at points becoming a Heath Robinson compendium of spoke filled vampire bats and mangled metallics. The whirr upping the noise stakes, filling my lugholes with some exceptional splices of chaotic wizardry... periodically stripped back to bare bones before being sent off on further noise filled excursions. This is a slip-sliding wonky affair, that's a captivating blend of circuit bent shapes and retarded dinosaur groans... The clanking and clattering piling up on an array of bruised and battered multiples, ending on a hushed almost catatonic loop of what sounds like a barking toy dog slowed to an eerie dirge... as tiny synth curls permeate the gloom, further illuminated by iridescent wisps, whilst the drip of digital stalactites and that ghostly touch of asthma increase the spinal chills.

The flip secretes a more subdued vibe... understated, almost nihilistic in its starkness… The vibe similar to the coded dialogue of short/long wave radio transmissions … or a delve into the ‘no input’ mixer void… Glitch skipping Morse mixed with pocket rifled flurries of contact mic(ed) debris, felt fingers and the electro-static rip of interference… Later, the undulating whirr of distant motors can be heard ticking over in varying percussive purrs, with sine wave modulations skating across warpy irregularities… finally humming out on a blunt conclusion.

An excellent slice of electroacoustics available from Hissing Frames

Monday, February 27, 2012

Heavy Blue - Bambikill



This is absolutely beautiful....

Divorce Chicken



...this death metal chicken gets my vote , right down to it's ill fitting marigolds... a sneaky peek for some fresh 7 inch action over at Milk..  meawhile i'm really loving that black n white eye jive of this new(ish) split with Jailhouse Fuck from sixsixsixties...

Sunday, February 26, 2012

S.M. Nurse







Knife Liibrary - Drowners



There’s this body washed up on the shore, spirographic lines fanning out from it... you can almost hear the breakers in all that blinding blue of the cover, equilaterally opposed to those dead piano staples that mark the opener, Line Up The Glyph.

Those cloven monoliths seem to be channelling the Norse gods down from Valhalla, punctured in ivory respites and broken rhymes… chants of ‘you fuckers, you fuckers’ over and over… secondary mega phonics creeping over it like a mumble of robotic grave robbers …. balladry cutting in, hushed plentitudes merging with doomic repartitions… This dirgey vibe brings to mind comparisons, but nothing can really touch this, it feels ancient whilst sounding bang up to date, an inherent dark mood running it’s centre… everything hanging off orchestrated hooks and frayed edgings… lush cymbal scraping… empathic bursts in the spectrum as a tumble of 'sax washed' drums switch the dynamics yet again…

The piano on Down Thru The Wortex is flipping gorgeous … pared down in salty statics with a train announcer rasp of vocal accompaniment. A viola giving out light caterwauls in dusty fidelities, like window scraping knives. The lyrics feeling like they're grasping at fragments of litter, as if an early Crescent etched gloom or Movietone starkness was snatching at a fading light...

50S 100W seems like it's referencing a location in quasi religious hues … those swaying tatters of voice tethered to a melodious nature...like it could have been an outtake from Smog’s Julius Caesar… Beautiful repartitions mixed with mischievous discord...That viola - a vicious rub of metal, as piano nails are blunted on squeezy slippages… A blur of whirring word screws, as flickers of discernible language crank your cranium, a hex carried on rumbling drone…

Smilin Resplendent Up Worried Gulch is familiar as if penned directly from Alogon's palette… a lush baritone voice, becoming a bell boy sentence poem, seeking solace in the piano's innards and fringed scree. A sense of numbness in the assembled words… I’m done, I’m out , fuck wading through that, come rush of glory now, now…. ‘Take that boy body mind lazer thing shine’ I just love the way these mind cut-ups bounce in the ear…

Un Named is a short burst of piano melancholia similar to Atworth's core of chord pileups, (sans dictaphonic scuzz) a satisfying barrage coupled with the sounds of things being chucked downstairs… something that all too quickly bleeds out into palette washing silence

A grass kicked gallop of chord signifies Snarlin Radge With Accurate Gun Hand in Feary Withers gets your head racing along, with that harmonic vox recoiling… a dressage of poetics that gallop back on military snare and scribbles of brass and flute... scraped instabilities... pounding gun blasts... its building tensions and superbly discordant breakdowns are pure ear joy...

By the time the album bows out on the apocalyptical keys of Pitgazer, ... a drowning of stabbed piano and wailing possession, you definitely feel he's left the best til last ... This album's a killer, a blend of skewed disciplines, a subversive sing-along giving out a sinewy authenticity that no Brit winner will ever muster, April maybe the release date for this LP, but it'll be totally worth the wait...





Thursday, February 23, 2012

Astral Socials

...wish i had some monster mittens

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

The Iron Soul Of Nothing

3mins 30something in and I'm a shiver of collapsing piping ... that percussive bass from the Sunn O))) boys reminding me of a old collaboration the Wound did with Tony Wakeford but with more soured industry and asbo bottle throwing... This one certainly bleeds a satisfied evol...the best track I've heard from Stapleton and Co in a long while...

Monday, February 20, 2012

Listening Mirror - Resting in Aspic

Another excellent episode in Listening Mirror’s explorations into ambience… Each track an evocative, rumbling bedrock… A drone cast carpet of pitch/time stretched atmospheres that are hauntingly physical…

Unravelling, bringing to mind a universal vastness of expansion, a swirl with subtle hues and painterly impressions, shifts in tonality with a giddy gravitational pull, like a Turner painting full of possibilities.

Spatterings of piano, similar to Budd and Eno’s - The Pearl, becoming sketches of emotion skating a tundra of longing, true conveyors of awe, riddled with natural indexes. Whether it's choral mermaids luring you inside their swelling kelp skirts, or the jewelled frostings of winter, these multifaceted outcomes churn over in your mind... slowly develop like polaroids… with an attention to detail that’s finely distilled to conjure with your notion of calm.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

A Dog's Life



tasty gut'rz n d)rums ...

Ashtray Navigations and Louises Guidelines



The car stereo is blasting out a dense multilayered affair… dirt mummies and bloody amps... the rackety feedback spectres making the car feel like its falling apart, my wheels are making this wheezy crunching sound, or is that the stereo dealing out more mad distortion? ... My engine sounding like a decaying lung on emulsified vapours, as the road ahead turns to a slush puppy of potential doom, … The weather's turning the motorway into a slow lane crawl… hyper sped flakes of snow curve the windscreen … I’m drifting back to the night's gig as I steer out of another skid...





Louises Guidelines were fun… I guess you would describe them as post rock with added extras, Owen looked rather Cthulhu like as the chords threw out plenty of raw fuzz fucked hues… James King of Anta fame supplying the drum action and cymbal sheen … later, everything waivering into a hypo spurting goo of modulation, loops and vocal vortex … left me really wanting more from those banana bubble guitar strings that signed the set off …

Suddenly, the car in front does a vicious curve into the centre of the road, seemingly in the process of overtaking nothing … then I'm thrown back into reality again, as a land rover overtakes… churns the virgin snow up in his wake like a plough, I hold onto the wheel for grim life as sludge fills my windscreen... the kick of the hard shoulder juddering the suspension.... I feel like Schumacher at 30mph, aligning myself into the furrows in front of me...

The stereo continues to pour eerie vibes through the upholstery as I ease back into the big steady and hark back to Ashtray Nav's playground carousel of cuteness a few hours before...





Todd's guitar was certainly syncopating the cool angles... creating fairy lit castles around Mel's mouse trap beats... those glass ratios and snappy fire crackers... wispy reed fallouts, everything overlapping in box locked hypno-ray rotation - a trippy haemorrhage inched along with pure precision...... Invocations curling your ears in folding envelopes of infinite colour... re-wiring mind juice of the highest order... only seen them once before and definitely will be needing more in the future...

totally worth it ...as the car slips across the last roundabout and heads sans collision towards home.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

Terroir Pissoir - Akke Phallus Duo



Made up of one half Hunter Gracchus the other Chora, The Akke Phallus Duo are certainly no strangers to stoking up the noise, and I'm glad to report neither show any signs of mellowing any time soon, as this debut release testifies. Terroir Pissoir brims with those self same wild fidelities and bizarrely refreshing dynamics that I've come to love from this duo's other incarnations... each track here being an inventive springboard of raw and colliding textures, a sound lab of conflict, adhesion and impossible futures... a truly exciting ride that gives your mind a good workout.

The first track Futhorcs Meat Contorts plunges you into the deep end, swamped in jack plug ugly and abrasive semaphore, skidding around on rubber burnt concretes. Grabs you by the throat at first with its primitive onslaught... a torment that soon relaxes into a series of hushed sheet metal percussives that contrast nicely with the wet sounds of somebody relieving themselves in a metallic urinal (a cheeky nod to the album title maybe).

This is a masterfully mixed affair as the track slips from reverberating tunnels into Congolese bubblings on the smudges of spinning coins, a real depth to the sounds too... that weave of ethnic tempos bringing to mind the judder of Javanese shadow puppets... Easing you back into noisier climes with jolts of rough vocal caustics... sounding like the dragging of heavy furniture across varnished floors... becoming aqua-lunged pellets and Moorish disfigurements, later drowned in peels of church bells and a multitude of squeaky wheeled shopping trolleys...

The label info states that the album results were gleamed from improv material gathered from as far afield as Italy, Croatia and Peckham. Sounds like they might have journeyed to some Islamic states too if that mentally disturbed pile-up of Bid'ah is anything to go by ... and I'm secretly hoping the numb subterranean clamber of Pipes is in fact the sonic results of slamming about in that upturned US military tank...

The best track for me though, must be the eerie ritualised thud of Bacchus Frolicking in the Snow … a feast of fluttering electronics and paracetamol crumble... like those shortwave receivers on K11's Voices from Thelema that picked up the ghostly goings on in Crowley's ruined abbey, these stark sounds strike your mind with the same strange illumination… a sense that something else is skulking the electro-static surf in a swirl of growling exhales… I’m truly loving this, it’s tensile, brooding... eats up the shingle shore in decaying bleeps n splutters, sort of lingers… gets you looking over your shoulder nervously…

...An experience that is exiled by the banshee ear scrape of Dulugu Ganalan which eventually finds its own distorted equilibrium in garbled repetition… leading to the albums finale Clather a soothing ocean wave of broken ethnicity. A repeated thumb piano refrain on sinister(ish) vocal vestals, chasing reflections of itself... getting more uneasy with every continuing shift… this album is something else…

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Wolstenholme Fondness

This looks to be an amazing evening...



Tuesday, 14 February 2012
FONDNESS @ Wolstenholme Creative Space
Wolstenholme square.
Liverpool.

7:30pm onward
Donations (£2/3 not Free!)

with special guests;

Vialka from deepest France, via everywhere and nowhere. They are a devilishly high-spirited guitar/drums duo who tour hard and fast across the world. Their music skips joyfully across borders, channeling desert blues, Chinese folk songs, scatter rock and European gypsy song dynamics in a whirlwind of dervish energy. Their endless gypsy punk folk rock tales, hard hitting poly-rhythms and yelps and howls make for a danceable and intoxicating brew.

Americans - a duo based in Liverpool formed by Jacobia & Trippy from Stig Noise, Horse Bastard, (+) making improvised adventure loop based electronic music using (a) modified mini drumkit and tiny casio. these feed via fuzz + delay + modified effects & microphones into a mixer and loop pedal which comes out of a speaker.

Paul Tarpey (Spoken Word)- 'I'm fine with Gobshite but if you ever call me a poet again i'll fucking kick ya ears off, pick em up and tell ya never to call me a poet ever a fucking again'.

Mango Shank - Ambientplanechunks and Granite Mantis of Windmill Moth glue/Ants and Earwigs performing their Phantasmagorical Instrument Platter.

Mark Greenwood + Jon Davies - cello & words.

Plus DJ's

MeKaNIk KomMaNDo



A great slice of computer tennis pop from Nijmegen's finest...

Monday, February 06, 2012

Zig Zag Wanderer

... and more eye poppin' kandi from Velveeta Heartbreak

Saturday, February 04, 2012

Poems in Stone - Membranes





The lunar side, recorded in a dilapidated barn in France, is guitar based, folkish... poetry caught in a spider’s web of weird sonic inflections… these cracks in the paintwork truly shine, grasp at you hypnotically as the words eradiate their meanings. A sense of purpose and tarnished beauty embalmed in the delivery, akin to that of King Crimson or a pre 'Real World' Peter Gabriel. The accompanying instrumentation often gentle or deliberately grating… a psych drenched and evocative build up that warms you up for the sonic sprawl of the flip side.



The solar side plumbs for a more improvised route. A 17min cacophony called Psychoduct which languishes more on the side of narcotic torpor than violent outburst... That doom laden/ magma type narration fading out on the espers of backward shiver and heart murmur… The shear of glassy eye reflections taking over, blurring out multiples… unholy architectures lurching in contrasting textures… Scars of school bells, loose piano nails, distant yelling and other discordances as tattered feedback spectres close round fragments of chords, echoes of trumpet … tremors of cymbal… A ghostly realisation cut into shanty wobbles of dying breath. The Dissolving Song ends the album, a stark vocal type venture, almost too naked... patched back into psych central with a serene squeezebox accompaniment. Beautiful stuff ... The more you listen the more this release gives out the goods, my only wish is that Monsieur Chainsaw was still here to enjoy it.