Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Road to Mirapuri - Rainbow Island - C20

Mirapuri Lagoon starts in sci-fi delusions, modulated goodness swept up in bamboo percussions. Shiver cushions of ancestral voices... ether flowing... as your spine sinks into protracted synth horizons. A psychedelic melt that's taken to a whole new level by some screaming peyote girl... ‘Astronaut aaaahhhhh!!!'. Exclamations that rip through Foot Village stylee, light up your head in super cute multi-hues . Passions the tiki tongued shadows try to steal before everything disappears between the salty roots of the mangrove.

The flipside, Rainbow Road is more transit. A plodding synth throb with globs of melodic key fall. Leaks a serious motorik vibe floating out on a breath stretch of reverbed vox ... Mellow juju with a squeeze of easy listening sleaze, as the scenery becomes a blur of parrot feathers and liquid light.

Yet another nicely packaged delight from the No=Fi crew.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Deeper Steps Into The New Path - LR / GW

It’s a beautifully recorded artefact, full of sounds that envelop, develop, spiders your mind with an intense focus, like some saintly martyrdom roaring, revolving in shifts of heavy gravity. An extremely passionate vibe throwing out plenty of drama, booming noise furnaces one minute, strange UFO unease the next all wrapped up in toe curling drone. Brings to mind the environmental gropings of Main or a sparser realisation of that release Mount Vernon Arts Lab did for Ochre a while back recorded in a nuclear bunker. A pure ‘psychic’ experience that leaves it’s concentric patterns on your soul and best listened to as loud as humanly possible...

oh yes... the package comes with a 'rehearsal version' download , which is just as good. A bonus which ripples an alternate take on the main dish, carving some very pleasant shivers indeed...

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Hicha, Robin Stewart, Ekoplekz and Tlön

The Cube Friday 10th January

Caught in the glare of his Macbook, Hicha (John Bence) was hovering over his kit with serial killer intensity... dishing out a sustained juju. Filmic hues digitally dusted in counter falls of hail and skipping glitch, often hitting a lovely processional vibe. Hypnotic jigsaws of sulky dance, snapshots of looming tension...dark city concrete.. the cross hatch of skyscraping shadows and hazy sodium washes. The piled high layers caught in the silky blare of headlights, too quickly sacrificed for a restless pan sonic drift of perspectives.

Robin Stewart (Giant Swan/ Naturals) spun his wares to a skateboarding vid. A sordid bass heavy vibe with rough cut frictions, deep tonal cuts and gloopy smears...the audio sometimes catching the adrenalins and the scorch of wheel caught pavement as the projected skaters seemingly wrestled with, or kung fu kicked the performer's nodding silhouette...

There was a lot of mastery going down under that Arthur Daley hat of Ekoplekz....his slippery dub corridors and electronically bent diversions were ticking too many boxes... a slapping of malformed beats leaked from some nice avant-shadowing and ratcheted squeals. He set up this trickling melody, counter-foiled with a fist of deep and ugly industry... a germ of an idea that developed into a hypno gem that stuck to you like some addictive Velcro, jumping with elasticised energies cut up in sped up / slowed down finalities...

Providing an improv diffusion of 'Truth is 13'... Tlon were great. Those digital billiards slamming the synth goo and curling capstan... lycra stretched key lines rubbed in discordant bliss... more fraught than that Kino outing... so many shifting layers, glinting mirrors, the rotating funnel on screen swung between the two protagonists ... that lush blend of awkward angles, shifting dramas and repeats, whipping you with their dark incising natures... Curling exotica, junk caking your hemispheres in broken kraut incentives, the off-kilter cosmic milk... symphonic candy zapped, clubbed... A crumbled wing flood of vortexing glimpses and sweetly licked torture... That Birkhouse cassette of theirs has got to be one of the best things I've heard in a long while...

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Facing the Other Way

thoroughly recommend this... especially if ,like me you were a junkie for everything 4ad threw out's a fascinating read with many an intriguing insight... things just breeze by... page after page promoting tons of re-spins... everything you loved about the label flooding back... it's hard to imagine now, but between 1982 and 1995 this label was almost a satisfaction guarantee...

Tuesday, January 07, 2014

Roger Turner, Urs Leimgrumber, James Saunders and Stuart Chalmers

5th January 2014 - Cafe Kino, Bristol

Roger Turner’s hands were all over the place, dispatching that anti rhythmic freeform goodness. Urs Leimgrumber gargling his clarinet in retort as if he were downing a yard of ale. The brass values like the crawl of caterpillar legs pouring out a host of strange asphyxiated noises and death watch clickings ... The metallurgic blasts of Turner giving out a scattering of angles... a jumbled bag of textures, accents and bowed chime filled with whispered creaks... everything constantly fluxing... swapping allegiances... the cymbal sheens and reverberations throwing plenty of accidental gems... the accompanying sax sounding like some alien feedback generator as the rooms dynamics turned squeals into wax eating mandibles.

Three compositional pieces followed, penned by James Saunders who relishes the minimal, gentle side of the musical spectrum... first up was a tone poem of electronics, and acoustika... droning wares transitionally slipping...double bass, violin, concertina and flute paragraphing nicely from each other in sustained pitches... After a quick line up change, the second piece was impossibly quiet ensemble of rubbed violin necks featuring Hakarl Kev...subtle pin drop vibes... 'hardly there' gossamers that were easily intruded upon by upstairs footsteps... topped off by a finale of bowed miscellany... an seven person friction party for a mind boggling array of objects making for an abrasive feast that tentatively see sawed a divine narrative.

Disputing his headliner status, last up for the night was Stuart Chalmers who launched into a candle lit set of new methodologies - a giddy jigsaw of bowed mandolin, mouth organ and tape swirling capstan playing oily rainbows with your head. Walkman fragments sloshing round a squeaky dog toy spittoon... balancing on floor rubbing ashtrays and cross switching shanty... Later adopting a weird slithery plasticine of cogwheeled zither,,, besmirched in the loopian suck of backward cuckoo and whistling blowza-bella...... a pleasingly strange gamelan goo tiptoeing over an ever wobbly mirage.