Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Neck vs Throat



...this abrasive little nugget is a recent collaboration between Skull Mask's Miguel Perez on guitar and the mysterious YOL on guttural cathartica... entertaining stuff... Insight-wise this little youtuber gives you some visual debris to latch onto...



Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Hare Akedod 004 - Raju Arara



Another wholesome offering from the ever wonderful Hare Akedod label over in Antwerp. This time it’s 30mins of ear curling kaleidoscopics from Raju Arara, the solo goods of one Rani Bageria who I think hails from Vienna… but location isn’t Important as the blissed minimalisms documented here… a synthetic ping-pong of neon horizons and fanning lines of perspective… Reich-like repeaters dissolving in a skull dance of simple kinetics…

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Ancient Ocean / Expo 70 Split LP



Ancient Ocean's side - Decomposition // Decay is a sublime procession of pulsating texture, a hazing of the subconscious. Electron false colours filled with droplets of distended keystrokes and singing bowl reverberations. Mellow actions of dronic love unravelling in zero gravities, punctured in a un-tethering of romantic glisten … Aural drama, magnified in a gorgeous acidic pour of guitar… a starlit gargantuan of fizzing expectation amongst the neurological vapours… a chemical ascension on gliss-kissed guitar lay lines and veiny spiders of nocturne, inching root balls clouded in carouselled confetti's…

The flipside from Expo 70, aptly entitled Waves in Caverns of Air, ekes out a darkened Dali-esque drone that’s perspectively thrown, real minimal fare with oscillatory owl whorls, puckering those ever expanding vanishing points as if Delia Derbyshire was remixing from beyond… Highlights falling through the ethereal cloak in a twist of shadow, relayed on a chorus of mirrored satellites … keyboard blurs gluing the interferences together into a vaselined airbrush of orbiting spacecraft, oozing the repeated rrrr’s of relaxation, seemingly caught between those ultra violet hues of the cover. Another sterling release from No-Fi...

Monday, October 15, 2012

Sound and Vision - Non Ferric Memories, Robert Ridley Shackleton, FMG, Joined by Wire, Mango Shank

22nd September 2012 - Post Modern Swindon





Wow! What an evening… Half way through JoinedbyWire's set, Andy whispers in my ear that he's lost his grip on reality. By the look of his eyes, that downed quart bottle of vodka had reached maximum saturation… his head struggling with the elliptical orbits Stephen was plying. Those furious kinetics skipping in rhythmic semaphores were just the ticket. Harsh abstracts mingling with lush landslides of texture, repeated phasers modulated and hinge angled, boiled shimmered and fried perspectives... all generated from a mind boggling minimalist kit perched on a little fold out table he found in the back of his dad’s garage… Wanted to pump this leviathan out into the dead air beyond, poke the corpse of this town with its itchy tendrils...



Rewinding back to the start of the evening , we, the Non Ferric Memories were a bit of a sonic jumble sale, albeit an oddly musical one... discounting a few technical miss-firings, it was quite enjoyable...first outing for car boot reverb unit too... don't think we'll go for that 'zero prep' vibe again though, can't believe we lasted 40mins...







Robby's performance blew me away. I've got a few of his Hissing Frames tapes, but nothing prepared me for the sheer tour de force.. he stormed through his set like a mutant son of Elvis. An avant crooner par excellence, 70's telephone in hand, his distinctive blend of warped pop, curling out bizarre comedies amongst that glitchy cake of radio static and mangled cassette collection which he reputedly acquired from blind Belgium nuns… he spun some amazingly weirded out tales of blurred truth and blatant fictions… ex-wife throwing bricks at foxes ....genius





Next up, FMG (my old next door neighbour) was plying blissful guitar foldings. A rich tapestry of hypno-needles… really beautiful mellow vibes, similar to his recent Waiting Period cassette I reviewed back in the summer… The beats slowly making sense as scars of distortion were overlaid. The heady brew...contagiously seismic… the visuals bursting with symmetric shamanism as a legion of mutating Mobius strips danced… gorgeous stuff...









After all the difficulties of getting Windmill Moth Glue down, it was a relief to see two-thirds of the fore-mentioned actually close the show… and what a spectacle it was… This side project calls itself Mango Shank, and I’ve been loving their particular brand of neo primitive candy ever since hearing The Phantasmagorical Fruit Cave of Wonder earlier in the year… and the hoe down of pure mischief they worked up didn’t disappoint. Like two grotesque gnomes they banged the shit out of their various noise toys which lay strewn across the concrete, yelping Elvin curses at each other... this was both bizarre and exhilarating… that radio friendly jab at British Rail was superb… Later I took them round the Magic Roundabout telling them about Andy's 'Crowleyesque' theories of the place… secretly hoping it might seep into a future out-pouring…

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Poetry Corner

Big Sass - Robert Ridley-Shackleton and Kommissar Hjuler Und Frau



Straight from Mr Shackleton's very own imprint Hissing Frames comes this new gem of a cassette... A 'weirded out' weave whose 'house style' diy paint splattered collaged cover gives an inkling into the delights that it contains...

Robbie's side is surfing the short / long wave candy on the harsher side of the spectrum ... This is noise with a wide heart and an agitated attention span, crammed with lo-fi immediacy that's resourcefully emotive ...Those gorgeously evil mechanical repetitions and warped tape graylings buckled in swoons of opera and garbled fwd/rewinds fill your head with possibilities. 'You'll never catch me copper,' he goes, all beat boxed mouthed, bedded down on an awkward wobble of operas and baked vocal guitars which soon break into a stunning avant be-bop chop. A funkadelic syncopation of human tone bank that puts that Police Academy chap to shame...so darn additive it's unreal! It's like he's channelling Elvis or Prince with a taint of Alan Vega into some homemade cabaret/karaoke... Total gold!... Even when folded back into noise, a stream of ugly and beautiful truths can still be heard wasp vowelling the speakers...

The action doesn't stop there, as the phenomenon that is The Kommissar Hjuler Und Frau occupies the flip. A pick-up zammed 'blues' of fretboard, as Miss Frau 'ahhhs' away over the top, high on the vocal register to Hjuler's low slung baritonics. It's like a rewriting of a Miles Davies milestone, the trumpet replaced by an off kilter nightingale plying an 'anti-X-Factor ' bezazz, like a Billie Holiday deconstruction of tonsil tinnitus .... gliding maleness sweeping in... beaten chord candy and tasty feedback peaks... Business as usual from this lovable German couple, even dropping off a song or two along the way...I absolutely love those screaming primitivisms, maybe not as brutal as past ventures, but this is still comfortably beaming from the outsider realm with Hjuler' word whoofing over the shrieks, on plastic spooned porcupines. Later on, Miss Frau throwing out the trance magic, goofing off her own coo-ing to glitchy pita pat of guitar... A Slapp Happy vocal climb prelude to some sellotaped poetry about taking the child over the mountain... a random sentence that has a strange logic of its own, to a cleave of bongo palmed shoebox elastic and Patty Waters tone tennis......

Friday, October 05, 2012

Collision Detection v5 - BLK TAG



From the highly commercial flavours of V4 comes this new instalment from the enigmatic BLK TAG… By the name, it would come as no surprise that this duo are great fans of Rollin’s Black Flag, and from their own barred logo you could be under the misconception that they are a ‘covers’ band of some sort… that’s until you sample the lovely obliqueness on offer here… a drone soaked landscape that’s musky and gloriously insular, with extra heavy bass plummets that attempt to conceal the sun…

The first track sets the mood, as the mild squeaking inflexions of the previous ep are blown through with a doomic majesty of bass, with amp grumblings scaffolded in extra piano coffin nails… then you're flung into some mighty fine cumulus canker and varicose veined electricity that quakes through the ears…

From here on, things are replaced by a popcorn of pirouettes, a glitchy soufflé that expands into a whirring industrialised dronescape… Entitled I am not in yr love, it’s a tidal vibe of mildly threatening hues, seemingly suffocating on their own inertia as gloomy timber saws chop into the protracted gasp…

An ooze of sub current bleeds out from the previous track, feeding the slow shrapnel explosions of Watch me pull a toolbox outta yr chest. Initially sharp thuds seem to dissipate in radiator valved pointillism … Percussive sounds that seem to be glowing semi opaque in dusty oxides, a drag of metallic discomforts adding to this gloriously bleak subterranean vibe...

A shruti box refreshment drifts in to close this ep. Brings to mind Nico’s intimate sound world punctuated in the clank of metallic tubing and bantha like howls… the squeak of machinery that started proceedings threading through, developing into an epilogue of vague classical drifts. Undulating snakes of Melodia … and a tennis(ing) of broken shutters … with odd percussive shadows ebbing away on exhaustion, then silence… a vacuum to which the outside world seeps in until the hidden track viciously rips you back in a brief foray of craggy bass…

Wednesday, October 03, 2012

The Skull Mask - Sahumerio



This mini cdr starts out with a spacey vibe, an early Eyeless in Gaza sparkle of strings … Candlelit coronas of ascending frets and cyclesounds… completely solo wanderings… almost stripped to the bone, with only the lightest of dronic mystery to distract you from the fact… Miguel Pérez's guitar playing is exceptional, his fingers conjuring up a myriad of dancing shapes and esoteric cyphers… colours that seemingly conversate in multiple exposures , curving the gloom in bowl like illumination. Vibes twisting upward in salamandering canter, mimicking the vapours of the enclosed incense which I recommend you burn whilst listening to this. The classical inflexions veiled in a scimitar of Turkish/Eastern flavours as flashes of white horse ride the lapping raga pulse, bespeckled in violent mood swings. This is a passionate display of force, a spin with jewelly diffusions banishing the bad vibes of Cuidad Juárez's past, where human life was the cheapest of commodities…