
Chris Carter - The Space Between (Industrial Records, 1980)
January has always been my least favourite month of the year. It is associated with exams and I lose the will to live when I study under pressure. Everything gets worse: my sleeping pattern reaches the brink of nocturnality, my level of concentration deteriorates and my diet becomes rich in sugar to keep me awake. The starts to 2010, 2011 and 2012 have been rather dire for me, solely because of the studying I have to do. On the way home from college, I was in a relatively dark mood due to suffering in a modern history examination. Such a dark mood can only ever be associated with dark music. This calls for a listen to a couple of Throbbing Gristle albums.
Once Heathen Earth had (unfortunately) come to a close, I scanned the liner notes. Chris Carter. A name that suddenly reminded me of how much of a fan I am of the synthesisers used in Throbbing Gristle’s releases. Secondly, it also reminded me that I had a release of his lurking somewhere in the vast depths of .mp3 files that is my external hard drive. The Space Between.
I ogle at the cover. Such a sharp black-and-white photograph reminds me of Whitehouse and other power electronics acts, thus suggesting to me that this wasn’t going to be the easiest listen of my life. I press play; after thirty-five seconds or so I migrate back to the media player window to check that I was listening to The Space Between, and not a Suicide-spin-off-esque minimal synth project. It was certainly Chris Carter playing. Any human being that has given Throbbing Gristle a thorough listen would imagine that anything released in Chris Carter’s solo career would be at least slightly reminiscent of the industrial pioneers’ murky, dark music. But it’s not. The Space Between consists of entirely synthesisers - and rightly so.
The album is certainly a very decent effort. Evidently breaking away from Throbbing Gristle’s sound, Carter has written fifteen pieces for synthesiser. And it is certainly enjoyable. For instance, ‘Electrodub 2’ is reminiscent of Public Image Ltd., on the condition that all of the members had been traded for a Roland and Jah Wobble had been replaced by Iron Man. I would personally consider it more minimal as well - probably more minimal than even Suicide. There are even less sounds occurring in the entire duration of The Space Between, aside from another synthesiser here and there. You can easily focus on the “bass” melody and the drum machine repeating itself for eternity. And that, in itself, is ideal for such a release. Why complicate such enjoyable melodies when it already sounds enjoyable enough?
In summarisation, I am overly pleased with Carter’s debut album; I am also certainly glad that it only sounds slightly similar to his band’s work, otherwise I may have found it a large chore to listen to in its entirety. It is both recommended highly and acclaimed by myself.
regis: in a syrian tongue ep (blackest ever black)
along the side of a couple of other producers, karl o’connor seems to have the techno comeback of the year. as part of the (not so) mysterious sandwell district collective, still running the quality downwards label and a bunch of 12”s and remixes under his belt, he seems to be releasing more tracks under his various pseudonyms lately than the decade before. in line with this, mid of november saw the release of what could arguably be called a mid-career retrospective, in the form of “adolescence: the complete recordings 1994-2001”.
a couple of weeks before that compilation, he released this ep on the fresh blackest ever black. o’connor is no stranger to the label, having already produced a remix for their second ep, but it still feels like an interesting move. his version of raime’s “this foundry” was tripping into dark atmospheres, quite different to the hard hitting techno tracks he made in the 90ies and early 00ies. with its slow pace and industrial longing, it was more drifting than raving here.
on “syrian tongues” he returns with a set that has a bit of both. it opens with “blood witness”, a mid tempo track, with stomping beats, lots of repetition and little rays of light shining through the concrete. the groove is focused, dense and has an urge to move forward. next is a live take of the same track, together with mick harris, ex drummer of napalm death, and the name behind scorn. the difference to the live version is audible but not overwhelming, with broken beats and more of an underwater feeling going on. closer “blinding horses” sounds like a techno track lost in its own world and is the most interesting piece here. regis is working a stubborn beat against ice cold sounds swashing all over the place and strange voices from beyond. there is a haunting quality here that sets it apart from so many other techno tracks around.
in a syrian tongue is music for big empty spaces, but has enough to offer to make it work in a more private setting as well. listening to more of his music lately, it seems that regis and his people have come full circle in a way, reflecting a whole tradition of strange electronic sounds from the uk, and succesfully reappropriating them for a vision of their own.
Jason Lescalleet - Electronic Music (RRR, 2003)
New post from docperkins:
There are composers who I consider part of the spine of my fruition template, but whose legacy I enjoy more than their specific compositions, for instance, John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen. To a large extent, the avant-classical music that entertains me, instructs me, and catches my attention would not exist if Cage and Stockhausen had not clinched at such a high level of expertise, insight, and inspiration with strategic nodal points constitutive of hegemonic tonal rationalities. The measure of their success is still to be ascertained so immense the effects and side-effects of their musical interventions have been, at the epistemic and executing dimensions, opening up significant space in grids of intelligibility of absolutely crucial atonal music composers.
Hence, even if I am not especially partial to several Cage’s compositions drawing heavily on his principles of indeterminacy, it is impossible to overestimate their impact on Morton Feldman’s aesthetics. The latter, in my view, has never ascribed directly to indeterminacy, but owes significantly to indeterminacy in several respects.
The same goes to Stockhausen’s legacy, and sub-genres such as EAI and electronic, which leads us to the four works hereby gathered. Jason Lescalleet ‘s ‘Electronic Music’ would certainly not exist had it not been preceded by Stockhausen’s own ‘Elektronische Musik (Etude; Studie I; Studie II; Gesang der Jünglinge; Kontakte)’. The latter, which is an unmissable release by the way, I could only start really appreciating beyond its conceptual significance retrospectively, under the light of current electronic music and EAI productions; some of them expanding Stockhausen’s entry-points, others vulgarising his achievements, and third ones carrying out a bit of both, expanding and vulgarising.
I would place Lescalleet’s release on the last group, inasmuch as it sounds like a leaflet explaining at a remarkable level of thoroughness, what Karheinz was setting out to commit when he wrote the pieces compiled in ‘Elektronische Musik’. However Jason, apparently not content in being merely didactic, risks his electro-neck in timid, but highly enjoyable patterns that unfold some of Stockhausen’s less obvious sonic devices, principally regarding treble oriented effects; the ones in charge of providing electronic pieces with a welcome (to me) false depth dimension. It is a ‘bluesy dimension’ as far as Stockhausenesque riffs go, when properly unfolded, as it is the case at stake.
To try and make my verbiage shorter without corrupting my rumblings too much: Stockhausen is to Lescalleet, what Pelé is to Cristiano Ronaldo. The point is that if the album ‘Electronic’ were a soccer match, Lescalleet Ronaldo was having a bloody inspired day.
Sometimes I really miss the glory days of the Kansai scene in the 90s, especially the early to midperiod Boredoms records that had a great “Sesame Street on PCP” vibe that sat perfectly with my youthful need for music that could simultaneously amuse and terrorize. Those days are mostly gone, with cut & paste montage/collage approaches abandoned in favor of psych/tribal long-form work. The newer stuff is enjoyable in different ways, but I still crave the less-controlled energy release potential in the short disjointed freakouts on albums like Pop Tatari or the Ruins/Omoide Hatoba collab album from ‘94.
Enter Ydestroyde, whose work has been floating around Japan for the last decade but rarely heard in the US. With the release of Synzosizer on Public Eyesore, we now have a stateside taste of this fascinating stylistic bridge between the scattered/deconstructive japanoise approch of yore and newer slow-build psychedelic impulses.
This iteration of Ydestroyde is mostly a solo effort by founding member Synzou, who sings and programs, though most tracks also feature guitar contributions from Shintaro Kinoshita. The music isn’t as cut-up as some of the earlier Osaka noiserock referenced above, but the vocals often take me back to that vibe with screams perfectly placed in rhythmically exciting moments on tracks like “Hissatsu,” or the simple repetitions of words or short phrases found throughout the record. Musically there is a punk influence, and the riffs are allowed to extend over full compositions, creating grooves rather than obliterating them. I hear a Misfits vibe at times, or something along the lines of the best riffage on old Mad Capsule Markets albums. And the drum programming and synth sounds frequently point to breakcore influences.
But ultimately I hear this as a sort of amped up electropsychedelic release, though it attains this atmosphere without resorting to the standard psych tropes of reverbs and delays. When Killed in Cars head honcho Paul was guesting on the Other Music program a couple of months ago, we talked about the nature of contemporary psych bands, and he pointed out how a generous application of reverb can have a transformative effect on a typical blues riff, practically transubtantiating a blues/rock track into an outer space psych experience. Generally I agree—there are lots of bands creating an “outer space” vibe that way.
Ydestroyde is different. This music makes it to orbit with relatively dry ambient spaces. But we start our journey in space, asserting “THIS IS SPACE” repeatedly in the first few minutes, and Ydestroyde sustains the excitement of a rocket ride throughout the album. The exquisite programming, sample editing, and synth playing create a compelling, expansive atmosphere, leaving room for guitar riffs to lumber across alien landscapes while the dry, spoken/yelled vocals hit listeners head-on. Interestingly, the first s/t Ydestroyde effort did rely partly on a reverb + lo-fi production to drive its point home, and I don’t care for it nearly as much. The general musical approach here is similar, but it sounds like this album was produced with a lot more studio time and clearer goals.
It succeeds. The riffs are relentless, the percussion alternates between energetic drive and jarring interruption in all of the perfect places, and the vocals take me back to my first memories of hearing Japanese rock approaches in the early 90s, the beginning of a long strange love affair with music that can follow its muse on its own terms. THIS IS SPACE!
HOLY OTHER - TOUCH EP
“Touch”, the centerpiece of Manchester-based producer Holy Other’s debut EP, is a spectral four minutes of twinkling keys, droning bass, and haunted gasps of human sound. After Burial, HO is not alone in using cut-up vocal samples to imbue his songs with structure and emotion, but the way he builds these pitch-shifted fragments into weaving symphonies of angst is incredibly affecting; the songs on his With U EP from which “Touch” is culled sound at once densely populated and unbearably alienating. The Touch EP collects a handful of remixes of the titular track and while none of them measure up to the breathy, yearning sensuality and dark catharsis of the original, some of these producers manage to rework the material into skewed and intermittently interesting shapes.
Matthewdavid’s remix, the weakest of the four, obscures the titular vocal sample in favor of a warped and hyperactive blanket of chillwave glut. Like the worst of that genre, it blends potentially engaging sounds and ideas into a gray and amorphous jumble that accomplishes nothing. Cupp Cave’s take is a more minimal and patient approach that takes the original framework and pares it down to a track of looped, woozy synths and golf game handclaps. It’s a fine remix, but, like Matthewdavid’s, a bit half-baked and pointless. The EP opens with Supreme Cuts’ take which seems to most fully explore the club potential so latent in HO’s music. They speed up the tempo and add a number of skittering rave drum breaks, creating a remix that, in its best moments, recalls the early-aughts tension of “Idioteque” and the globalized mixes of LA’s Nguzunguzu.The best remix, however, is by Vancouver’s Blood Diamonds who infuses HO’s track with a bright and steel-drummed tropical sheen. Holy Other’s songs are too off-kilter and lonely for dancing, but Blood Diamonds succeeds in appropriating that dancefloor potential to his more upbeat and technicolor production aesthetic. Instead of the dark anxiety of the original, BD gives us a more measured and propulsive melancholy. So, ultimately, we’re left with two pretty good remixes and a couple fairly bland ones. Kind of worth a listen if you love all things Holy Other. Truthfully, one would be better served by Holy Other’s own mixes which are considerably more involved and compelling than much of the material here. See: his remix of How To Dress Well’s “Suicide Dream 2” or Walls’ “Sunporch”.
KILLED in CARS on Turntable.fm
I’m going to be playing in here for a while. So far I’ve really enjoyed the tracks played.
It’s been a weird year for me, but one of the highlights has been my overexposure to my car radio and late night MTV Hits. My days are haunted by Drake saying Moscato and my nights are filled with arguments over whether Chris Brown isn’t the worst person ever. Anywho, here are my five favorite and five least favorite radio bangers of the year.
Best
Obvious exclusion include Meek Mills and Rozay’s “Ima Boss,” which got in just before the Rick Ross is a boss bubble burst; Kelly Rowland and Lil Wayne’s “Motivation,” which, if the year ended in July, would’ve totally made my list, but damn was this overplayed; and, Britney’s “Till the World Ends,” especially the remix featuring Nicki Minaj and Ke$ha.
Rihanna - We Found Love (ft. Calvin Harris)
Riri’s best since “Umbrella” and probably her best video, if only for this.
Miguel - Sure Thing
The video makes the song, which is only aided by Miguel’s subsequent single “Quickie”
Katy Perry - Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)
The fifth single off of Teenage Dream and amazingly her strongest, “Last Friday Night” was a relief after the Kanye-included E.T. and the mediocre “The One That Got Away.”
Lil Wayne - She Will (ft. Drake)
Here’s a fun game to play: try and spot when Weezy ends and Drizzy begins. This is the moment during which the two’s autotunes collide. This is also one of the rare occasions when Drake isn’t awful.
LMFAO - Party Rock Anthem (Benny Benasi Remix) (ft. Lauren Bennett & Goon Rock)
Yes, this is seriously on my list. “Party Rock Anthem” was the definitive song for my strange year. I became obsessed with tracking down remixes and youtube parodies, like this or that. I was torn whether to embed the original video, which includes additional dialogue that only heightens one’s appreciation of the anthem or this truly transcendent remix by Benny Benassi.
Worst
There is only one rule for my worst of list: either Chris Brown, Drake, or Kanye must appear in one of the song. Obviously this means I’m ignoring truly awful songs like Gym Class Heroes and Adam Levine’s “Stereo Hearts,” whose worstness is so great that I doubt I need to mention it; or Rick Ross and Nicki Minaj’s “You the Boss”—Rozay, we get it, you ‘da bose; or T. Pain, Wiz Khalifa, and Lily Allen’s “5 O’Clock,” which, well you know how you should feel about Wiz Khalifa by now.
Nicki Minaj - Moment 4 Life (ft. Drake)
God no Nicki, don’t marry Wheelchair Jimmy!
DJ Khaled - I’m On One (ft. Drake, Rick Ross, and Lil Wayne)
“Two white cups and I got that drink could be purple, it could be pink / Depending on how you mix that shit”
Never4Get. Also, you must read this. Also, this song takes on a new meaning when you realize that “one” definitely refers to ambien. DJ AMBIEN DRAKE
Drake - Headlines
Fuck Drizzy. If Take Care is on your best of 2011 list, kill yourself.
Chris Brown - Wet The Bed (ft. Ludacris)
Yes, most hot jamz these days are exclusively about the rapper’s sexual prowess, but none this year seem as egregiously descriptive or gross as this Breezy and Luda moist cut.
Kanye & Jay-Z - Niggas In Paris
DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE DONT LET ME GET IN MY ZONE
Travis Laplante - Heart Protector
Another solo tenor saxophone record review so quickly after Bertrand Denzler’s “Tenor”…hey, why are you backing away from me?
Seriously, though, folks, Travis Laplante’s first solo release, “Heart Protector,” was just released a month ago, but it’s definitely among my favorite albums of 2011, and I can easily see it hanging with the small pile of records I find myself returning to repeatedly over time. Laplante is a great player, but this music isn’t about technique or combining genres or contributing to the advancement of jazz or experimental music in some clever way—this is soul and spirit racing into one another.
I’ve been trying to write about this record for the last two weeks, but I find myself settling into a mostly wordless meditative state within the first few phrases of the opening piece, which is also the title track. It’s a multiphonics-based composition played with a warm, inviting tone, gentle articulations into each chord, and the intimacy of Laponte’s breathing faithfully captured in the anticipations before each note. It really does feel like a “heart protector.” Subsequent tracks aren’t as calm as the opening number, but all of them seem determined to place their listeners deep within sacred spaces.
The story of the making of this record found on Laplante’s BandCamp page is a starting point for understanding the transcendent qualities of this music: ill with severe vertigo, he ultimately found his way to an acupuncturist who started him on a path toward both his own health and incorporating healing practices into his music. Since then, he has been practicing Quigong, meditating, and generally letting his energy flow as freely and widely as possible. Based on “Heart Protector” and the recent recorded efforts of his band Little Women*, his approach is working wonderfully.
“Five Points,” the second composition, focuses on various trilling, tremolando, and pedal point procedures, each emphasizing a vibratory center. In a few passages that avoid the trilling action, rhythmic shifts between alternate fingerings create some phasing oscillations instead. For most of the last four sections of the album, the music deftly outlines the continuum of the electromagnetic spectrum: vibration, oscillation, frequency, pure energy.
“The Great Mother” opens side B with plaintive trumpet-like tones before hypnotizing its listeners with multiphonic chord-drones. These aren’t so melodically uplifting as those of the title track, but they’re very trance-inducing. The overtones shift around in ghostly fashion as the fundamental pitches move in mostly chromatic fashion. In terms of vibrational energy, the relatively short physical distances between half-steps embody much more emotional potential between one another than larger leaps of fourths and fifths: the larger intervals relate to one another through simple ratios and live together most of the time as harmonic overtone companions, while half-step movements vibrate in monumental and dramatic opposition.
Repeated notes in the first half of “She Heals as She Harms” play a similar oscillatory role to the trills in “Five Points.” This is probably the technical centerpiece of the album, full of dexterous runs whose flow is informed in a pointillistic fashion by the quickly-tongued pitch reiterations. Its last half is a somewhat free-form emotional release of high pitches, squeals, and trills, ending on more half-step pushing and pulling. The final composition, “The Tear Dam,” is the most traditionally-played piece on the album, and as its title suggests, it seems to hold back from the instinctual emotional release so natural to the rest of the record. It builds in a dynamic swell on its primary five-note motif toward the end, hinting at another emotional flood—but this time, the Tear Dam holds.
I really love the recording quality of this album, too. At times the music is harsh, and the sound quality picks up a slight amount of high-end distortion, but that’s what it sounds like standing right in front of someone playing like this. These hair-raising moments are captured while also picking up Laponte’s breathing, and you can really hear the sound of the room, which I’m envisioning as a medium-sized space in an attic or garage, mostly devoid of objects. To my ears, it sounds like the kind of place where musicians tell their deepest secrets to themselves and their closest friends, and music so full of introspection and healing as this often sounds its best in these sacred spots, which themselves come alive over time with the repeated emotional and vibrational outpouring of their occupants.
Highly, highly recommended.
*Speaking of Little Women—there was a short post about their most recent album, “Throat,” on KiC around a year ago. It referred to the band as “in the vein of Naked City,” and as a fellow who has listened to Naked City and Little Women albums well beyond recommended daily allowances, I would make a significant distinction between Zorn’s 80s projects and the newer NYC bands of the 00s and 10s like Little Women and Zs. Zorn was essentially a montage composer for Naked City and the 80s “file card compositions,” interested in juxtaposing styles toward the creation of cinematically evocative (or sometimes simply amusing) aural spaces. I’ve always gotten a much more direct emotional punch from the music of Little Women. Influences and genres may peek through, but the music operates at a much higher temperature where genre distinctions are mostly converted into pure energy. I love both approaches, but they’re very different to my ears. Little Women’s 2010 release “Teeth,” by the way, has already enjoyed a short tenure among my shortlist of favorite records. It can be a harsh record when you first approach it, but deep within it becomes pure, sustained euphoria. If you haven’t heard it, I would recommend it as a perfect companion to “Heart Protector.”
Black Chastity - Predator’s Breath (Callow God, 2007)
Blue Sabbath Black Cheer - Drowning In Hate (Gnarled Forest, 2006)*
Jason Crumer - Ottoman Black (Hospital Productions, 2008)**
Killer Bug - Beyond The Valley Of The Tapes (Troniks, 2005)
Periodically I move stuff over from Blogger in the hopes of eventually having the entirety of the blog on Tumblr. Besides the reproduced reviews I’ve posted today, I also do group posts like this from time to time when the individual albums are good, but don’t warrant a direct post (either because the review was minimal or the album is fun but not crucial). These early posts fit both rationales. So, click the album name for a rare re-up and see if I’m on point.
While KiC is over three years old now, these records reach back farther, back when we were trading albums on last.fm. Indeed, there is a reason why these were among the earliest shares on Blogger; as recent (then) finds, noise at the time was fresh and new to me, and the old site facilitated a greater appreciation of more artists. This bunch stuck out because, while it fit under the single header “noise,” it also showed the variety within the genre. For instance, Black Chastity was loud, but it didn’t have the same high pitch edge to it. Rather, the tape managed to fit a few new textures into a powerful thrust, not entirely unlike what I look for in metal. In this way, it is most similar to the Blue Sabbath Black Cheer tape, although Aaron’s initial description “fucking dragons” probably tells you what to expect. The two records are different sides of the same coin, and are both enjoyable to me to this day.
Killer Bug was a unique one - posted on the first of many hiatuses for the site, this batch proved to be really popular, which is odd given just how expansive and harsh the set is. Regardless, I think mixing the Killer Bug material with the Crumer CD is interesting, because some of the pitches shared, despite the very different methods, provide me with an intellectual flourish amidst the aggression. While I prefer Wiese, I would think that his fans will find a lot to like here.
*2007 untitled cassette left off
**What Is Love (Hospital Productions, 2007) also left off
Nicolaus A. Huber - Weisse Radierung (Coviello, 2009)
A dose of modernity via docperkins:
Huber, The Debaser
“…don’t know about you
but I am un chien andalusia
wanna grow
up to be
be a debaser, debaser”
‘Debaser’, by Pixies
The ‘human rights’ standpoint in aesthetical fruition enables you to claim that you are entitled to have your individual taste, and that that should be the yardstick of your pleasure. Hence, individual taste is supposed to work as an expression of the sincerity of your musical choices, as if autonomy was a normative juridical matter, according to the notion of ‘Man’ invented in the 18th century in Europe.
Nonetheless, it is fun, nay advisable, to get way beyond that normative, fully-fledged ‘citizenship oriented’ standpoint. Once the freedom of aesthetical choice is socially assured, you can set forth to politicise the aesthetical issue by delving into how the taste that informs and shapes that choice is constituted. Through which features taste becomes individual and subjective, and to what extent the freedom of expression at stake actually expresses anything else than sheer conformity or, even worse, if it expresses a sad, void will to style. This is a case scenario where epistemological vigilance should be set in motion, given that, towards the constitution of that strange artefact called personal taste, unproblematised ‘spontaneous choices’ — which at the end of the day, as much as they might be sincere, are neither spontaneous nor choices — will hold one down into murky aesthetical passivity.
Along these lines, among many existing practical ways to unsettle, destabilise that complex grid of intelligibility also nicknamed taste, I assume that in music fruition to choose releases that bear debasing properties would be a valid strategy. In the avant-classical niche there are anarchistic debasers, which mercilessly uncover the devices in charge of forging the necessary elusiveness implied in how original one feels when s/he utters an aesthetical opinion.
To mention but a few, some reference debasers are Béla Bartók’s “String Quartets Nos.1-6”, with the Alban Berg Quartett; Luigi Nono’s “Complete Works for Solo Tape”; Morton Feldman’s “Crippled Symmetry” with Wiesner, Hinterhäuser, and Schulkowsky; Horatiu Radulescu’s “Intimate Rituals”; Colin Matthews’ “Fourth Sonata, Suns Dance and Broken Symmetry, with the London Sinfonietta and Knussen”; Hans Werner Henze’s “Tristan– prelude for piano, orchestra, & tape”, with Rundfunk-Sinfonie-Orchester and Henze as conductor; Wolfgang Rihm’s “Morphonie & Klangbeschreibung I-III with the SWR Sinfonieorchester Baden-Baden und Freiburg and Gielen; Peter Ablinger’s “Voices & Piano”, with N. Hodges. Nicolaus A. Huber’s “Weisse Radierung; ‘Mit etwas Extremismus’ und einer Muskel-Coda; Air mit ‘Sphinxes’; dasselbe ist nicht dasselbe” with Ensemble Modern, WDR SO Köln, Saraste and Rundel’s is representative of the trend.
Huber is a former pupil of Luigi Nono and Karlheinz Stockhausen who found a lot of inspiration in French modernism through the works of Stephane Mallarmé and – noblesse oblige – Erik Satie. A composer whose works embeds influence of the latter and writes a piece called ‘Mit etwas Extremismus’ und einer Muskel-Coda (German for “With a bit of extremism and a muscle-coda”), which mixes cello, oboe, violin, double bass, trombone and percussion plus 5 drawers, each containing 5 cassette recorders, deserves my attention. Adding epistemic insult to aesthetical injury, Huber displays a great deal of confusion when trying to infuse in his music the theories of physicist Brian Greene, author of ‘The Elegant Universe’, where he depicts the world as an improbable manifestation among an infinite array of possibilities (yeah, I know you have heard this one before, it became spontaneous ideology/ pub talk). This is a confusion that turned out more than productive, and extremely auspicious in Huber’s aim to overcome the centrality of tonal-related clusters of notes. Huber claims that notes impose a ‘gravitational force’, and therefore notes exist as if they were objects provided with body mass (weight), mutually attracted due to gravitational points instead of being tonally related. Now go figure: for Huber there are tonal centres, but they ‘happen’ at random and beyond all tonal implications. Thus, Huber’s rather enjoyable — and perplexing — atonality is tackled as a gravitational factor.
Isn’t it a bliss that composers do not need either to know how or to be able to explain their compositional procedures? I do think so. Regarding their shopping for ‘scientific discourses’ stemming from human and exact sciences, artists oftentimes behave like children in huge candy shops, making it forlorn, tiresome, and unnecessary from an aesthetical viewpoint, to try and make sense of their rationalising whereabouts.
Nevertheless, to listen to Huber’s debasing music becomes a perversion that you can savour as the outcome of his arcane musings on pop-physics, or major leaps in atonal music history; this is up to you, as someone who once relied on the unscathed and self-referential existence of an individual taste that by now has vanished, debased in the atonal haze…
Franz Constant - Works for Accordion, Alto Saxophone, Piano & Symphonic Band (Rene Gailly, 1994)
Here’s a rare gem brought to you courtesy of docperkins:
In my ears Franz Constant commits to score ‘minor music’, in the same sense that a certain stream of post-structuralism calls Kafka’s a ‘minor literature’. According to Deleuze and Guattari, coiners of the term, “the first characteristic of a minor literature in any case is that in it language is affected with a high coefficient of deterritorialisation”. Constant’s language or, more precisely, grammar, stems from post-Webern atonalism. In Constant’s minor music that grammar is highly deterritorialised – as any blend of atonalism should be – into a bizarre blend of Bartók, regarding harmony structures, and Stravinsky, in the way it juggles with the themes.
Deleuze and Guatari describe the second characteristic of a ‘minor literature’ in terms of politics, which hereby I will replace by its encompassing element: power. In their words, “its cramped space forces each individual intrigue to connect immediately to [power]. The individual concern thus becomes all the more necessary, indispensable, magnified, because a whole other story is vibrating in it”. It is amazing how instantly the epistemic connections to Constant minor music become visible, say, audible.
Franz Constant’s aural space is more than cramped, claustrophobic. The feature is stressed by his choice of solo instruments: accordion and alto saxophone, both bearing all the karmic scars acquired respectively in tango and jazz ventures and, in Deleuze’s terminology, intrigues. Scars that Constant makes a point out of keeping glowing, displaying them in magnified fashion as if equipped with autonomous drives. The individualisation of solo instruments vibrates and tells stories stemming from musical traditions other than avant-classical, reaffirming the ‘minority’ of Constant’s grid of intelligibility. Thereby, stories are contents leaning against formal possibilities that here and there seem to be on the verge of confessing mortal sins, so individual are their trajectories and indivisible their sonic kernel (and, mind that, it is not Anzellotti who is playing the accordion, it is a certain Guerouet, who sounds like a possessed Aníbal Troilo).
A third characteristic described by Deleuze and Guatari, which is also amenable to be applied to Constant’s aesthetics, is minor literature’s ability to forge “the means for another consciousness and another sensibility”. The minor music strikes not only for combining two well known canonical references – Bartók and Stravinsky — against an innovative background, but it also strikes for the way through which it turns individual stories of instruments into collective tales. Along these lines, consciousness has nothing to do with self-imposed moralised and fetishised spaces for exhibiting aesthetical limitations, which became such a recurring attitude in the ambit of so-called improvised (atonal) music. Constant, in his blend of minor music refrains from trying to imitate life’s grandiosity, and tagging the mimicry as ‘human all too human’. The latter, a trend that pays tribute to objectivism, is discarded on behalf of a supposed transference of meaning, which is subjective by design and so flimsy a transaction that it has to impress when it works. And it works in minor music.
Franz’s minor music unfolds its lush plethora of aesthetical unexpectedness into the factual, given that the minor music you will find therein is also geopolitically deterritorialised: it blasts out of Belgium, where it was created by a virtually unknown composer. It is performed by a certain Band of the Belgian Guides where one of the main orchestral ‘divisions’ is aptly titled ‘The Cavalry Trumpeters’ (they play with warrior zest). The contrast between their martial denominations and outfits on the one hand, and on the other the complex works they perform is outlandish enough to make the unreachable post-modernity to sound plausible for a split second.
Alastair Galbraith - Talisman (Next Best Way, 1995)
Alastair Galbraith’s albums are about as consistently un-ambitious as he has been consistently indifferent about ambition, specifically in terms of musicianship. Responding in an interview, Galbraith mentioned that, “To me, my musical career is not as important as my life itself, and that was something I’ve found very difficult about touring. I am always ‘Alastair Galbraith: The Musician,’ and it’s hard to feel like you’re still a painter, or a person who likes walking around picking up driftwood or whatever else you may be.” Somewhat like driftwood one finds on a rainy beach, Galbraith’s work has the feel of something molded by aimlessness and wandering. Happening upon one of his album’s for the first time feels as though one is among a lucky few who’ve touched it, that it could have been collecting dust in a record store for twenty years, waiting to be handled by you and you alone.
Raised in Dunedin, New Zealand, Galbraith formed his first band—The Rip—with his high school buddy Robbie Muir after seeing The Clean play in the early eighties. Without the kind of global communications infrastructure we’ve enjoyed with things going digital, New Zealand might as well have been at the end of the world. Much of the influence musicians were toying with at the time was up to two years out of vogue by the time they’d get to touring. That compounded with what could have been an inferiority complex among the New Zealanders and/or a superiority complex among Londoners, manifested a sense of necessary self-sufficiency in the minds of many coming out of the scene; in some ways, there was nowhere to go but home—one of the key ingredients to a potentially excellent milieu. Interviewed by the Guardian a year ago, Martin Phillips (of Flying Nun Record’s The Chills) commented that, “From our perspective it was, ‘We are those of you brave enough to jump on rickety little boats and head off into the darkened seas to set up brave new colonies because we didn’t want to be part of this class system. But we are still part of you.’ The British perspective felt like, ‘They have the nerve to say they’re part of our ongoing history when they ran out on us at a crucial time.’ And they’ve given New Zealanders minimum publicity ever since.”
Following a number of line-up changes and two EP’s produced through the late eighties, The Rip eventually disbanded, and by 1987, Galbraith was producing his own records. Influenced by Peter Jefferies (of This Kind of Punishment), who had advised Galbraith early on that, “recording in a professional studio and paying a lot of money was a very bad idea,” Galbraith perfected the 4-track aesthetic, mixing Velvet Underground elements via his cello work with bagpipe drone gleaned from his Scottish ancestry, and injecting it with his preternatural lyrical poise.
In 1995 Galbraith released his third LP, entitled Talisman. The album was produced after a year of living about an hour south of Dunedin near a small fishing village called Taeiri’s Mouth. Not totally secluded, Galbraith apparently used the Taeiri River gorge to his advantage, canoeing downstream every day to his friends’ house to play and record. One can see how that kind of lifestyle came to influence the music, not just on this album but all of his works: the specifically kiwi ethos of a 4-track in one hand and a canoe paddle in the other.
The album has the dynamism of a mountainous landscape, where ridges fall to valleys and crumple into gulleys that fold into lakes that rise again to mountains: a cyclical sense of change that’s not unlike a fugue. It’s fast paced and constantly changing—only a few of the tracks are longer than a minute and a half. Beginning with one of Galbraith’s signature sounds, mingling backward looped guitars with his double-tracked vocals thrumming a lullaby, we’re led to the caustic chant of Yuhahi, a Cherokee recitation to frighten storms. From there we’re led back to Galbraith’s superb, lyrically tuned pop-sensibility with Carlos, and just as we’re about to get comfortable, switches gears again with the metalloid drone of Xtra 1, prefacing the incantarory Black Flame, a turbulently contoured anthem colored black with snare splashes. This oscillating pattern in the first four or five tracks continues as the modal direction through the rest of the album, repeating itself as necessary. Liquid loops transform into combustible reveries as breezy lyrics segue into earthy drones, articulated with unintelligible spoken word. It achieves what a series of charcoal sketches can that oil masterpieces cannot.
Talisman is a good start if you haven’t heard Galbraith before, but only because it comes at the middle (of the beginning) of his project. As I wrote above, Galbraith’s work is incredibly consistent, so if you like Talisman, definitely check out his other albums—he’s coming out with a new one just about every three seconds.
Travis Meyer
Pan Sonic & Keiji Haino - “Shall I Download a Blackhole and Offer It to You”: Live in Berlin 15.11.2007 (Blast First Petite, 2009)
This 2009 publication probably does no justice to the 2007 live concert from the Haino-Pan Sonic collaboration at all, and yet, when heard even at medium volume, it fills your head with clashing neuro-images that constantly implode with feedback. Shall I Download a Black Hole and Offer it to You is not entirely a description, or even an action, it’s a question poised by the artists; as a question with no immediate answer (it’s too late to say ‘no’, anyway) it remains in limbo, in the realm of ideas, that platonic existence that sounds like religious ritual and applied science at the same time (Haino chants and tears his own body apart with wails as Pan Sonic mechanically, industrially forges sounds to build the backdrop). As differing yet essentially converging lines of thought, both forms of truth throw themselves against each other at every passing second; the duo constructs drones and beats full of digital interference as the soloist charges at them head-on with multi-instrumental insanity and vocal distortion. Rationality meets its contrary, and can only press on.
With this fierce and forceful encounter, both forms become contaminated. Slowly, Pan Sonic’s sound becomes a bit more uncontrollable (a beat disrupted, a buzz amplified, a longer silence) and in the meantime Haino fades in and out of cosmic possession (a short, calm koto segment intervened only by a few screams, not ruled by them) in longer lapses of time. The result is that nothing sounds like it should, or rather, like it’s supposed to; the transfiguration of an astronomical “region” into kilobytes is unfathomable, unknowable and incredible just like truth itself, in platonic terms, whether a part of an incantation or an experiment. And yet it’s stuff like that what modern experiences are made of: someone puts a Hubble picture of Andromeda in a calendar, and someone else that puts that calendar on his or her refrigerator of choice “owns” a star he or she can look directly at. A priest takes a piece of bread, dips it in a cup of wine, and they become a piece of a body and its blood. Andy Warhol puts a Brillo box in a museum, and it becomes something that is not only a box of soap.
I think that is the nature of such a collaboration: an arcane edge pervades method just as much as rationality pervades the arcane back, creating an eerie atmosphere of pain and revelation; Haino conducts his own sacrifice to the beat of modern electronics, to the analyzing eyes of Pan Sonic, and both seem to emerge from the digital underworld irrevocably changed (in the horror sci-fi commonplace of “That’s not my daddy!”). As listeners of this permanent clash, I guess the final question is: are we changed as well? The people at the 2007 concert are, without a doubt, a little bit madder. Will this version do the same? I hope so.
False Bread
At the moment the most active KiC page is the Facebook page. You can click here to see what’s been posted lately. Also, here are all the other pages I update frequently:
Blogger (archive)
Mixlr
RYM (Rate Your Music ratings)
SoundCloud
Twitter
YouTube
8tracks
Capillary Action - Capsized
-or-
Why you should probably listen to Capillary Action when you finish doing whatever it is you’re doing right now
Capillary Action seems to be a relatively new project when you read recent reviews or their own biographical info: they just finished touring on their sophomore record. But there are two earlier releases that I’d hate to see disappear altogether from CapAct history. The first, 2004’s “Fragments,” is an electric guitar-driven instrumental record that generally settles into a style not wildly distant from 90s math rock bands like Don Caballero, though I hear some Europrog textures and South American rhythms that give it a unique voice. Looking back, there are some guitar parts whose chordal and rhythmic approach anticipate Dave Longstreth’s mature synthesis of African and Latin guitar work by five years. CapAct maestro Jonathan Pfeffer was around 18 when this was released, and he started his own record label to put it out.
In 2006, CapAct went in a totally different direction with the “Cannibal Impulses” EP, a sample-based electronics/noise piece full of minute-long bursts of intensity. There were crazy videos to accompany the music, but they seem to be gone from the internet. The only sonic similarity between these “lost” CapAct records is pure charisma—Pfeffer clearly devotes himself fully to every sound he touches.
In 2007, Capillary Action was touring on Pfeffer’s newest reinvention, and what seems now to be considered their official debut, “So Embarrassing.” This recording found CapAct functioning as a 12-piece band with horns and strings filling out complex orchestrations that incorporate a wide range of pop, classical, and jazz influences. Pfeffer’s brilliant guitar playing returned, but now in the service of his singing and lyrical prowess. Indeed, the record is very different than the two before it, and to the extent that “So Embarrassing” and “Capsized” are “songs with vocals” records, I can understand counting the pair as the beginning of a project with a specific focus.
I saw two shows on the masochistic multiyear tour for “So Embarrassing,” each featuring a different 3-piece lineup of Pfeffer on vox/gtr with a drummer and keyboardist. Both were incredible shows, among my all-time favorites, though I’d have to lean slightly toward the Sam/Dan configuration I saw in Lincoln in ‘08. I wouldn’t have thought it possible to play such a dense record convincingly as a trio, but they completely nailed it both times, opening with the punishing song “Bloody Nose” with no introduction and mostly playing without addressing the audience.
The band crashed at my house after the Lincoln ‘08 show. I’ve hosted lots of bands and had great conversations with musicians, but Pfeffer and company really impressed me with their boundless musical curiosity. I’ve often thought that the best musicians tend to be those who listen the most (and the most carefully), and it was clear that Pfeffer was building his own musical approach with a very clear vision while taking his participation as a listener within the larger community of music very seriously. And the talk focused on music itself rather than musical equipment or product endorsements or practice regimens, all useful things in their place but not as essential and universal. Very refreshing.
Onto “Capsized:” Capillary Action explores areas broadly related to those of “So Embarrassing,” but with some important evolutionary distinctions. Compositionally, the integration of musical styles through collage and montage treatments continues, with time and tempo shifts everywhere, the energy of rock music, the harmonic richness of jazz, melodic approaches that evoke pre-WWII classical music as often as pop (think Stravinsky, Bartok, Schoenberg, Shostakovich), and a bit of lounge jazz that seems be be a natural component of Pfeffer’s vocal tone and articulation style. This time around, however, significantly more tropicalia seeps into the mix, all of the instruments used are acoustic, including a switch to nylon-string guitars, and the mix sounds much cleaner. Most tracks on “Capsized” are recorded as quintet pieces, leaving more room for the music to breathe (and the arrangements also keep various instruments out of one another’s primary frequency ranges more, reducing the potential for phase cancellation and stressful mixing). The percussion and drum work is also much more prominent and interesting (many kudos to Dan Sutherland for the emotional and thoughtful drumming on this record).
Lyrically, “So Embarrassing” functioned essentially as a suite, depicting uncomfortable moments in Pfeffer’s life. In “Capsized,” personal struggles remain part of the focus (relationship issues, rigors of heavy touring, the band’s van crash), but there are also outward reflections on topics like the meaning of success, consumer culture, and our increasingly apathetic society.
“Collage and montage” doesn’t give enough credit to the brilliance of these arrangements, though. Like many of my favorite bands and artists, Capillary Action is comfortable working with the resources of any discipline that the music demands. On the surface, one can discuss the myriad influences and ways they’re juxtaposed, but the real work in this music happens through integration and interpretation. Most music lends itself to thorough discussion in terms of relatively circumscribed language and syntax, but this music speaks through all languages and dialects. For the philosophically inclined, this approach could be considered a sort of “metamusic” in which various musical styles impress their values and emotional content on one another in a symbolic exchange. I find myself compelled to listen this way, listening for all of the subtle relationships between the styles employed, the kinds of cultural allusions they make alone and juxtaposed, and how those ideas are advanced even further through lyrical concepts and album art choices. But on a more direct level, you can simply enjoy it as a great integration of art and pop music played with passion and respect. And be sure to catch Capillary Action live the next time they’re in your town—they may be incredibly satisfying to the intellect, their live show is every bit as visceral as it is cerebral.
I’m going to be playing a lot of music the next couple of hours. Click here or click the photo to listen. It’s really easy!
Unicorn Hard-On / Container - Split 12” (Hot Releases / More Records, 2011)
The fundamental role of a recording is to capture what it is recording. Tautology aside, this is a rather nuanced task; in particular, does the recording adequately capture not just what would’ve been heard live, but also what was felt, seen, etc. (I’ll spare you the Cardew quote)? This observation is far from novel, and used ad nauseam as a benchmark to evaluate many sorts of music, principally those which contain improvised elements. And while seldom does one hear the words “even the view from the window” when discussing, say, techno or psychedelic rock, with many’s insistence on the primacy of the live experience, inherently we appeal to the trans-aural evaluation of records which don’t evoke the word ‘idiom.’
In the context of beat-based music, this dialectic takes two similar forms: Can the record recreate the live setting in which we heard the act in question? And/or can we appropriate this sensation in a new environment, like during a DJ set? The latter is much less a concern for me, since I do not live DJ; however, for many it is primal. Instead, I seek to address the former.
Container at Meadows of Dan, Carrboro, NC, December 22nd, 2010
To answer this question for Unicorn Hard-On and Container’s split 12” on Hot Releases and More Records, the answer is a definitive yes. I have had the opportunity to see both several times now, each performing cuts off of this split, and while the environments have varied, every experience has been no less than a blast. The details of why I enjoyed these performances are myriad—the atmosphere, the friends, the dancing, the performer’s presence—but in many ways bely the experience; they coalesced into a fantastic experience, one not linear in its elements, imprinted in my memory as an ephemeral ‘good time.’ And, with each listen to this split, I am able to relive these elated feelings; each pulse during “Persian Cats,” each throbbing beat of “Cauterize” transports me to those moments.
This is all incredibly simple, as well specious—I admit that many others lack these memories; however, personally I cannot imagine a better way to appreciate this record, or any other, in this relational fashion. And maybe since I was able to connect this split with such fond memories, other might be capable of the same.
I’m going to retry a few tracks and add a few more here. This is me working on the sequence of several tracks. I want them to fit nicely so I can make this into an 8tracks mix. Click the picture or click here to start the stream!
Bertrand Denzler - Tenor
Solo instrumental records can be difficult to live with, but they’re often worth the effort. At their best, they give us windows into the deep, lifelong relationships many performers develop with their chosen instrument over years of multi-hour practice sessions, listening, experimenting, playing with ensembles of all kinds. They can share intimacies simply impossible through performances in group settings, private experiences that many musicians have in the walls of their practice rooms and studios that even their closest musical collaborators might never hear.
And I must admit that I’m especially partial to solo sax albums. Though my “years of shedding” experiences have all been with guitars and the voice, I often feel like I was meant to play the saxophone. I love the “normal” voice of saxes, especially altos and tenors. I love the huge range in timbre that is possible, the ease of wicked vibrato, the many kinds of scale and arpeggio runs that lend themselves to nimble sheets of notes, the clarity of articulation possible, and on and on. And it’s a great instrument for extended techniques: growl tones, slap tongues, multiphonics, alternate fingerings, altissimo, reed biting—I love it all. Anthony Braxton’s “For Alto” is an all-time favorite album of mine, and I’ve been delighted to know the solo work of many others: Zorn, Abe, Lacy, Parker, Butcher, and so on. So I was delighted to receive Bertrand Denzler’s “Tenor” for review. I was not familiar with Denzler’s work before this disc, but I’ll definitely be looking for more.
“Tenor” is made of three long tracks that were recorded on one day (and it sounds like they’re probably all part of one long improvisation or composition broken into three sections for tracking convenience). Presumably this is a studio recording, with close micing in a small space. There are no effects used here, and even the tracking room gives Denzler no reverbs or delays to play with or against. It’s all Tenor, all of the time.
Denzler’s playing is pure patience. This is a delicate record, in effect a drone/ambient affair, and every note and extended technique is carefully executed to keep the focus on sounds produced rather than the person producing them. I don’t know if this is improvisation, but it sounds very composed. There are only a few notes used on the whole record, no vibrato, no shredding Coltrane licks, and because of this I think its appeal extends beyond fans of “saxophone music.” In fact, long passages of the album sound almost electronic in their careful realization.
“Filters” opens the record on a long Bb (concert Ab) that is continually teased throughout the course of its 17+ minutes. As the title implies, Denzler manipulates the pitch by adjusting his oral cavity, through alternate fingerings, and through multiphonics, creating a series of rhythmic and melodic interjections out of his fundamental note. If you’re not familiar with these kinds of sounds, imagine solo Tuvan throat singing, making melodies out of overtones while the root continues to sound, and you’re getting somewhere near this kind of effect. To that basic sonic approach, the alternate fingerings add quick pitch/tone adjustments that also have a rhythmic component, and some of the multiphonics evoke louder, more abrasive sounds, especially in that last third of the track. While dynamics stay within a fairly consistent range in the early part of the track, there are some louder moments in the last section as well, especially in the 12-14 minute range, where multiphonics almost sound like bowed guitar feedback at times. Many of the rhythm/filter/overtone motifs repeat and oscillate throughout the piece, creating a very composed feel. Denzler does stop to breathe, reattacking his horn again and again, but this doesn’t detract from the drone music vibe for me—if anything it heightens the tension through repetition.
Earlier minutes of “Signals” continue to work with some of the same materials used in “Filters,” but a few additional pitches are introduced. Occasionally tonguing effects are used to stop or flutter the pitches, sometimes while they’re also being manipulated through multiphonics. A few very high pitches appear around the 10 minute mark (the “signals?”) which reappear a few more times throughout the piece.
Like “Filters,” “Airtube” is a fairly literal description of its music—this piece works with breathing and sucking sounds, sometimes with different keys depressed to change the size/resonance of the instrument, slaptongues that violently and percussively pop through the horn, overblows, etc. This piece moves away from the drone/ambient implications of the first two tracks toward a music steeped in almost industrial sounding rhythms. It also uses the widest dynamic range of the album, with incredibly loud moments and others that are almost inaudible. There are some particularly stunning moments that seem to be produced by following hard slaptongues with extended breathing sounds—I’ve never heard anything quite like it.
Obviously this kind of music isn’t for everyone, but for readers of KiC who like EAI and drone music while shuddering at the potential “macho jazz” implications of a solo sax album, this album will be a pleasant surprise.
NEW URL ON Tumblr (current)
Facebook
Formspring
MuMu
RYM
SoundCloud
Tumblr (current)
8tracks
PROMOS: I only accept physical promos, not downloads. If you believe your music fits my site, please send your tapes/CDs/vinyl to:
KILLED in CARS
c/o Paul Banks
16901 Oakmont Drive
Apt #18
Omaha, NE 68136
As always, you can see my ratings for over 5,000 records here.
Profile: pabanks - Rate Your Music
rateyourmusic.com
Rate Your Music is an online community of people who love music. Catalog, rate, tag, and review your music. List and review the concerts you've attended, and track upcoming shows. When you rate your music, the site's music/social recommender can recommend similar music and users with similar mus...
free download!
Mike Cooper - Distant Songs Of Madmen (Download, Free)
room40.org
To kick off 2012, we're very pleased to publish this wonderful live edition from Mike Cooper which officially kicks his 70th anniversary celebrations - happy birthday! Mike Cooper has been a central figure in UK folk, blues, improvisation and about as many other movements as you care to mention - he...
New review from Jordan.
KILLED in CARS - Chris Carter - The Space Between (Industrial...
killedincars.tumblr.com
Chris Carter - The Space Between (Industrial Records, 1980) January has always been my least favourite month of the year. It is associated with exams and I lose the will to live when I study under...
Wilfried Krätzschmar's album (1996, Wergo label), is an underrated gem: 2. Sinfonie / STYX / solitude II / netze / cataracta [Hanstedt, harp/ Kölner Bläserquintett/ Staatskapelle Dresden/ Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Leipzig]
Kratzschmar- Solitude II
www.youtube.com
Wilfried Kratzschmar's "Solitude II" for solo harp.
spectral-psychedelic:
Rădulescu: Frenetico Il Longing Di Amare (1984) [Part 1/2]
www.youtube.com
Horaţiu Rădulescu's "Frenetico Il Longing Di Amare," composed in 1984 and scored for bass voice, octobass or double-bass flute, and sound icon. Performed her...
Peter Murphy absent-mindedly overdubbing a home demo with Lee Perry outtakes.
Beach Scene
soundcloud.com
Check back every Monday for another full tune!