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THE WIRE, MARCH 2009
Argentinian sax feedback specialist Capece teams up with Pan sonic's electronics ace Vainio on this impressive collection of sparse, captivating pieces. Much of it comes across as improvised dialogue between the two musicans as each tries to imitate the sonic characteristics of the other, but there's also clarity of line to this material that suggests meticulous compositional discipline. Sometimes the music is pretty ragged - 'Escapes' puts irregular outbursts of sandpaper-rough acoustic and electronic textures against each other, while 'Tolmauvo' is centred around an enervating bass pulse that shudders like a monster truck revving up for action. But there is delicacy here too. On 'Siglio', Capece splits a low feedback signal in two and explores the resulting harmonic beating, while Vainio colours the background with perfectly judged cymbal atmospheres. The Pan sonic man has honed a deeply personal - and immediately identifiable - sound over the last decade and a half, and this duo setting seems to have brought the very best in both him and his partner.
Jim Haynes
VITAL WEEKLY 665
If I'm not mistaken, though I usually am, this is the fourth collaborative work between BJ Nilsen, H. Thorsson and S. Berg Sigmarsson, the latter two known as Stillupsteypa, and by now mostly, or perhaps even solely, known from their collaboration with BJ Nilsen - I never heard much from them. The good news is: this is another great disc. The bad news, if one chooses it to call it so: there is nothing new under the previous suns that were produced by the trio of releases on The Helen Scarsdale Agency: deep drone stuff, based on heavily processed field recordings. There are, perhaps good news again, small differences with the previous release and the most important is that the three boys now allow small bits of melody in their music. Three long pieces of static, drone objects but with small melodic ornaments - not all the time, not on top of events. This is a heavy work of heavy drones. Dark clouds with a small bit of blue light - a pitch black river but with some branches in it - that sort of thing. They once again proof to be the sons of The Hafler Trio, later issue, with floating sound scapes, washing field recordings ashore and some melody. At one point they even painted a cosmic dream on analogue synths, and then they become the grandsons of Ash Ra Temple. This minor changes makes that I think this is a damn fine work once again. Its these changes that make me curious about a fifth release (or sixth) and see where they would eventually lead up to. Right on time for a small switch. Great CD. (FdW)
BRAINWASHED, 10.02.2009
As much as I enjoy the music of KTL, there is a feeling that having heard one album, you have heard them all. This album bucks this trend to some degree; there is a feeling that that parameters that Stephen O'Malley and Peter Rehberg work within are widening. The darkness that permeates KTL's music is blacker than ever but the music has more gravity, pulling the listener in with more force than KTL have shown before.
As a two piece with such specific ways of playing their instruments, it is difficult to expand the sound of the project. While O’Malley mainly sticks to tremolo-picked guitar playing that resembles an arctic wind more than music he is now pulling in some of the staccato playing that he incorporated in Khanate. Rehberg is also expanding the tones he wrests from his electronics resulting in a more charged atmosphere. As a result, IV is less soundtrack-like than the previous KTL albums which works in the album’s favor (only “Eternal Winter” falls into a traditional KTL style).
Without doubt, “Paratrooper” is one of the most crushing pieces of music. The sputtering synthesiser that opens the piece bring to mind Throbbing Gristle’s meaner side and before long O’Malley’s guitar, shards rather than chords, drags the music into even bleaker places. What makes this so much heavier than anything else KTL have put their name to is the presence of Atsuo from Boris. His drumming adds a huge, bestial pulse to the shrieking assault of O’Malley and Rehberg. It is easy to mistake the clamor for Armageddon.
For those willing to spend a little extra on an import version of the album, the Japanese edition on Daymare Records contains a bonus disc of demos (originally released as a very limited edition CD-R last year). The recordings are, by their very nature, rougher than the ones on the finished album. They do not capture the same sense of dread that the Jim O’Rourke production does on the final product (although they still sound pretty sick). These demos and are worth paying the few extra bucks for especially as the collector prices that the original release goes for are far too expensive.
As I discovered with their soundtrack to The Phantom Carriage, their older style works best as an accompaniment to visuals (and this is one thing that is lacking from the earlier releases). Due to the music on IV behaving less like some form of black metal soundscape, it is a lot stronger than the duo’s previous albums. It feels like a standalone album and not like part of a larger picture and because of this, I am already listening to it a lot more than I have listened to KTL’s other work.
John Kealy
»IV« ist die erste Veröffentlichung von Stephen O'Malley und Peter Rehberg, die nicht als Soundtrack für das Theaterstück »Kindertotenlieder« von Gisèle Vienne komponiert wurde. Obwohl alle drei vorhergehenden Partien die künstlerische Reife besitzen, musikalisch auch für sich alleine stehen zu können, wird ausdrücklich darauf hingewiesen, dass es sich bei Teil IV der KTL-Reihe um ein autonomes Werk handelt. Aber inwiefern unterscheidet sich diese Veröffentlichung darüber hinaus von ihren Vorgängern? Wenn auch einige der insgesamt sechs Kompositionen den Klangduktus vorhergehender Experimente aufweisen, machen sich KTL mit dem vierten Teil ihres Projekts auf den Weg in bisher unerforschte Gebiete. Nachdem das Eingangstück »Paraug« sehr stark an die Komposition »Forrestfloor 4« im ersten Teil von KTLs Tetralogie erinnert, meint man Rehberg und O'Malley bei den folgenden Stücken die Anstrengung anzuhören, sich musikalisch nicht erneut zu wiederholen, sondern eine neue musikalische Sprache zu entwickeln. In Anbetracht der inflationären Fusionierung von Metal und experimenteller Musik ist das musikalische Potential dieses vormals faszinierenden Amalgams rapide gesunken. Vor diesem Hintergrund ließe sich »IV« von KTL als ein Art Übergangswerk verstehen, das sich seiner Tradition bewusst und dennoch Althergebrachtes ablegen möchte.
Wie ernst es den Musikern mit diesem Album ist, verdeutlicht bereits die Wahl des Produzenten und die damit einhergehende Reise nach Tokyo. Mit Jim O'Rourke verbindet Peter Rehberg eine langjährige Freundschaft, die mit dem Computertrio Fenn O'Berg bereits musikalische Früchte getragen hat. O'Rourke gibt den Kompositionen von KTL eine befremdlich wirkende spröde Klangästhetik indem er Rehbergs Computersounds präzise aus dem Mix hervortreten lässt. Ebenso mit von der Partie ist Boris-Schlagzeuger Atsuo. Seine minimalistischen Rhythmen prägen die Komposition »Paratrooper«. Ein zwanzigminütiges Epos, das von einem treibenden Synthesizerpuls grundiert und von einem messerscharfen Gitarrenloop vervollständigt wird. Zudem bearbeitet Rehberg seinen Computer wie eine Gitarre. Er amplifiziert ihn über einen Verstärker, moduliert das Ausgangssignal mit Effektgeräten und gibt den digitalen Klängen damit einen analogen Charakter. Ein Verfahren, das den im Rock präsenten analogen Soundfetischismus in Frage stellt - eben ganz unrock, wie Peter Rehberg sagen würde.
Raphael Smarzoch
Perfect for the dead of winter, it's another quietly creepy, digital dronedoom opus from this two-man stupor group, featuring Stephen O'Malley (SUNNO))), Khanate, etc.) and Peter Rehberg (Pita), this time with production assistance from Jim O'Rourke. If you've heard KTL's I, II, or III (which was vinyl-only) you have an idea of what to expect - and are probably already plotting to purchase this. This is their first studio album constructed entirely for their own dark purposes, as opposed to having been commissioned as a soundtrack for live theatrical performance or film, though it certainly still has mysterious, soundtrack-y qualities. The sort that usually causes us, in reviews of KTL (and other dronesters too) to paint word-pictures of what the music evokes in our mind's eye. Subterranean caverns, bottomless pits, fallen angelic choirs, airplanes buzzing over dark forests... but we won't bother this time, you should just listen to this and your own imagination should have no difficulty providing all sorts of esoteric imagery. It may be soothing, it may be scary. Probably scary, it's up to you though. We find a lot of this to be as sinister and grim as Dick Cheney was in his Dr. Strangelove wheelchair at Obama's inauguration!
These six tracks are full of seismic rumble, high end hiss, eerie abstract glitch, sweeping drones, ringing electronics... some more epic and/or active than others. Distorted industrial rhythms shudder through several cuts, notably the disc's longest piece, the 21+ minute "Paratrooper", which features doomic beats by the drummer from Japan's Boris (who also brings his gong for an appearance on the disc's final track). While that's KTL IV at its heaviest, most of this is more like the sound of SUNNO))) sighing and whispering... or, conversely, Pita busting out a guitar to play along to a half-melted Swans record he found in the ashes of a burned-down church.
All of KTL's previous work was commissioned for theatre and film, but this new one is not. KTL stands for Kindertotenlieder and is the ongoing collaboration between Sunn 0)))'s Stephen O'Malley on guitar and Peter Rehberg on computer and synthesizer. On two tracks they receive help from Atsuo on drums (on 'Paratrooper') and gong (on 'Natural Trouble'). KTL is one of those supergroups, the seventies term for well-known people collaborating, but in the case of KTL its probably much more serious. 'IV' was recorded and produced by Jim O'Rourke in Tokyo and once again its one hell of a beast. Wall of sound was never better defined, but having said that, KTL isn't just about noise. Perhaps, come to think of it, not about noise at all. Surely its loud, but unlike so many other noise music this is also about detail. This isn't some muddy sound thrown on tape which is loud but without depth, this is has sonic richness. Lengthy pieces of endless walls of guitar sounds, while Rehberg's computer also sounds like a rocking machine. Not carefully processed sounds, but loud sounds, clicks, drones, hiss and machines humming on end. Very powerful stuff this KTL, even when they pull back in volume, such as in 'Eternal Winter' or the opening of 'Benbbet' or the sheer silence of 'Natural Trouble'. When its all open its mayhem such as in the landmark piece 'Paratrooper'. A refined example for all aspiring noise makers who would want to try their hands at making good noise music. Must be frustrating, because its unlikely it will be as good as this.
FdW
Another mighty KTL opus, but this album feels rather different from the previous three: IV is the first full-length album by Peter Rehberg and Stephen O'Malley to have not been based on commissioned work, and consequently should be a more conventionally 'album-like' affair. To a certain extent that's probably the case, and these six compositions run through a broader range of ideas, all very carefully constructed and finely polished... in a terrifying sort of way. Some of this refinement might have come about thanks to Jim O'Rourke's hand in KTL IV. The renowned polymath takes production credits on the album, meaning that KTL can now list themselves alongside artists as diverse as John Fahey, Wilco, Sonic Youth, Faust, and even Beth Orton, as a proud recipient of the O'Rourke treatment. Opener 'Paraug' suggests there's been no toning down however, getting us underway with a familiarly brutal wall of guitar noise, instantly getting the blood rushing, but next up, 'Paratrooper' takes on a markedly different identity: Atsuo of Japanese metal titans Boris joins the duo on drums for the twenty-one minute epic, which transpires to be quite a departure for KTL, taking on a more overtly rhythmic, industrial tone than has ever previously been evident. The noise-sculpting here would seem to be a nod to some of the influences cited by Rehberg and O'Malley as being integral to the record's overall sound (e.g. Caberet Voltaire, Swans, Fushitsusha, This Heat). 'Benbbet' is another pronounced shift away from the more customary dronesing malevolence we've become used to, taking on a far more subtle trajectory characterised by electronically severed shards of noise - spluttered out arrhythmically, like a faulty, gurgling Pan Sonic record. Rehberg's electronics start to run the show with some scuzzy modulations on 'Eternal Winter', all very much reminiscent of the darker Pita material, before finally Atsuo returns with a gong in tow, on the surprisingly beautiful 'Natural Trouble', a measured and disciplined construction that transcends the doomy paradigms established on prior releases. Immense.
The results of this partnership between Stephen O'Malley and Editions Mego label founder Peter Rehberg were assembled in Tokyo in September 2008 - with Jim O'Rourke as producer - from recordings made earlier in the year. While it shares some of the characteristics of other O'Malley projects, notably the Dark Ambience of Aethenor, KTL sounds both more fractured and more relentlessly driven. Its sound is a kind of sub-Metal, where O'Malley's abstract guitar riffs and feedback tones collide and merge with Rehberg's synth pules and clusters of electronic tics, buzzes and glitches. Where, notionally, there is more room for the music to expand, as on the lenghty 'Paratrooper', O'Malley and Rehberg instead channel it more narrowly into a kind of drilled repetition, like the endless thud and grind of industrial machinery, but filtered through a gauze of subiland electronica. 'Benbbet', another lengthy track, is more exploratory, even tentative, in its intial construction of noise and spaced sound clusters, until it settles into a pattern of ping-ponfing electronics and distorted swathes of guitar.
This all sounds controlled and harnessed, as though O'Malley and Rehberg have shaped their material into a kind of narrative; the album'S longer passages are interspersed with shorter 'sketches' of guitar/electronic interplay. However, the sound is intentionally never particulary fluid, instead relying on a sense of momentum generated by its non-harmonious parts rubbing abrasively against one another. Here the achievement has been to take fragmentary noise and abstracted Metal guitar elements and direct them in such a way that they make for an extended, coherent, and often viscerally engaging statement
Tom Ridge
BOOMKAT, 23.01.2009
Antipodean maestros of realtime electroacoustics, Antony Pateras and Robin Fox follow-up their 2006 Editions Mego debut, Flux Compendium with an erratic album of gleeful computer noise and manipulated recordings. You may recall Pateras' 2007 solo album Chasms on Sirr for its deft and discerning application of prepared piano and subtly morphed acoustic timbres, but this is a different prospect altogether, combining splattering, Hecker-like high-end synthesis ('Whipped Silk') with spacious dissections of concrete sound (as on the virtuosic, slapstick cut'n'paste of 'You're All Answers'). Sophisticated and avant-garde as the album tends to be, there's no short supply of fun to be had; for all its pristine, technical execution, a track like 'Apollonian Gasket' exudes joy and kinetic energy, while 'Lung Butter Blues' adds an Henri Chopin-style vocal component, loaded with spluttered chaos and a punk-ish sense of confrontation. Brilliant.
Bien qu'il s'agisse de leur troisième album en commun, c'est la première fois que ces pages évoquent le travail studio d'Anthony Pateras et Robin Fox, puisque jusqu'à présent, ce furent uniquement par la voie des concerts que le duo fut ici mentionné. Musicalement, peu de différences avec ces prestations live, les Australiens privilégiant à nouveau cette accumulation de bruitages et apports électroniques propre à créer une musique entre expérimental et noise.
Si en concert, on éprouve parfois quelques difficultés à maintenir l'attention face à une déferlante de sonorités escarpées, la brièveté de ce disque et des morceaux qui le composent (huit titres pour trente-cinq minutes au total) permet au duo de resserrer le propos, d'entrer bille en tête dans chaque morceau et d'en avoir fini avant que l'auditeur n'éprouve un réel sentiment de malaise. Ainsi, un titre comme A Simple Death, avec sa puissance sonore, ses vrombissements allant en crescendo, ses cris traités et ses notes suraigües, ne s'avère pas désagréable car on sait qu'il s'achèvera sans tarder. Il en va de même, plus loin, avec les crachotements électroniques de Lung Butter Blues.
Au milieu de ces glitchs, triturations et larsens, quelques éléments plus organiques parviennent à se frayer un chemin, à l'image des souffles de You're All Answers, comme s'il s'agissait d'établir qu'une présence humaine est bien effective parmi ces apports synthétiques. Il en résulte par conséquent une expérience électro-acoustique intrigante, bien dans l'esprit de ce que l'on pouvait attendre d'Anthony Pateras et Robin Fox. 6/8 François Bousquet
Although something entirely different, something similar can be said of the third Editions Mego release by Anthony Pateras and Robin Fox, who this time operate as a laptop duo, and leave their usual instruments at home. Perhaps some of the sound material they play around here was made during the previous concerts, and they add some ARP 2500 synthesizers sounds which they recorded at the studio of Worm in Rotterdam. Here too it would be too easy to say we are dealing with noise, and yes, this is 'loud' music, but it is, like KTL, by no means one of those pointless exercises in feedback. There are moments of quietness, such as in 'Hyperpole', the following piece after the sheer noise attack of 'Lung Butter Blues' - its the same side of the noise coin. Whereas most noise is generated through improvisation, but more in the sense of not knowing what to do, these skilled improvisers know how to improvise, and this time it is with a set of acoustic and electronic sounds playing from their computers along with synthesizers sounds. The hasty changing sounds doesn't sound like at all like KTL, yet its surely noise too. More improvised, more based in serious avant-garde music, yet loud and forceful, this is another damn fine disc.
Connoisseurs of high speed, more-is-more sensory overload - think Bark!, Furt, Lehn/Schmickler - will find plenty to enjoy on this third outing from Antipodean electronics artists Pateras and Fox, from the shatter and splatter of 'Apollonian Gasket' to the scything squarewave viciousness of 'Whipped Silk' and 'A Simple Death'. But the mangled belches and gargles that characterised the pair's last Editions Mego offering 'Flux Compendium' in 2006 are less in evidence. Instead there's greater interest in superimposed pulse loops, from the opening brief, sly nod back to the funky clickscape of early Mego to the driller-killer eardrum shredding of 'Rupture' and 'Lung Butter Blues'
TSB Medical Emergency Room Report
January 26, 2009
Pan Sonic's Ilpo V. and partner in crime Dirk from Schneider TM return with another Angel-ic recording, their follow up to last year's excellent and epic Kalmukia, which we likened to both KTL and Earth circa Hex. This time around they're not quite so much in that digitaldoomdrone mood... There's still plenty of digital glitch and distortion, and the 20-minute "Mirrorworld" is a loud n' lovely, humming white noise dronewerk, as is the shorter and sparser "Unsymmetric Distance", for instance, but many of the 10 tracks on Hedonism indulge in electronic noise and clatter that's a lot more active and buzzing.
The releases under the banner of Angel so far have all been live recordings - something that I forgot, so 'Hedonism' is the first studio CD by Ilpo Vaisanen and Dirk Dresselhaus, Angel(s) since 1999. Recorded in a studio in Berlin and at Ilpo's cottage in Finland, this album is a continuation of their previous releases. Its far from the work with Pan Sonic or Schneider TM, and operates in the shimmering world where you can see the crossroad sign that says 'industrial', 'ambience', 'atmospheric' and 'noise' (although the smallest road available on this intersection), armed with a handful of effects, recorders (to tape the field), contact microphones, acoustic objects and maybe a synth or guitar - none of this is really clear from the music itself, or the cover, they craft together ten tracks of strong power. Their best release no doubt, because the pieces here are well worked out and make a coherent whole, which couldn't be said of the previous works. Very nice release, though maybe not as surprising if this crossroad in music is visited by you frequently. (FdW)
The making of 'Hedonism' began as long ago as 1999, a collaboration between Dirk Dresselhaus and Ilpo Väisänen. with Hildur Gudnadottir joining forces with the duo midway through, underscoring these soundworks with heavy, black cello.'Hedonism' is divisble into three parts. The opening four tracks recorded in Dresselhaus's Berlin studio, and represent the 'urban' component of the album. The opening moments of the first track 'Holding Loose' are among its most scorching, panning like an electric storm during a city blackout across the speakers practically throwing you from your chair. The subsequent pieces then settle into a moody, post-nuclear smoulder, less eventful but still too hot to touch. The mid-section, opening with 'Dropping The Ego', consists of pieces of musique concrète, but this is concrète wrenched from the soundlabs, abused, hurled down stairwellls and bashed about in the hostile city outdoors.
Von 2004-2007 feilten Dirk Dresselhaus & Ilpo Väisänen an diesen Tracks, die sie anfanglich als knurrige Dröhnminimalisten zeigt, als Piloten alter Propellermaschinen, die sich, à la Saint-Exupérys 'Nachtflug',, einer 'Unknown Dawn' entgegenschrauben. 'Hatch' dagegen, impulsiv durchzuckt von krummen Frequenzen, kritzelt einen stottrigen Zackenkamm. 'Adrenaline Strike' und 'Dropping The Ego' sind rumorende und brummig changierrende Angelegenheiten, angeschoben von pulsierenden Automaten und wummernden Motoren, die einem mit einem giftigen Woosh plötzlich in einer Szenarie aus piepsigen, zirpenden Mikrogeräuschen absetzen. Bei 'Highrise 1' setzt wieder Gewummer ein, während im Hintergrund rumgetanzt und perkussiv rumgescheppert wird. Dieses Schaben und Klopfen rückt bei 'Unsymmetric Distance' in der Vordergrund, den es stechend und kaskadierend, zischend und ratschend auslotet. Danach wird es ruhiger, der Schauplatz wechselt von Berlin in den Norden Finlands, wo aus Fieldrecordings und geschicteten Drones 'Mirrorworld' als Soundscapes sich ausbreitet über volle 20 Min. Die Ruhe hält dabei nicht lange vor, weil sich immer mehr gischtige Brandung auftürmt und stürmische Böen die Landschaft beuteln. 'Hornet' hält zum Abschluss dann noch eine Überreaschung parat, Nachdem Vogelgekrächz und ein grollend atmendes Ichweißnichtwas nahezu verstummen, kommt eine Hornisse angekurvt und - die Krähe warnt vergebens... Doch statt eines Stichs donnert ein Düsenjäger über einen hinweg. dass die Wände wackeln. Die Vaterlandsverteidigung. Na Bravo.
S'il est un projet qui a subi, ces dernières années, une évolution majeure, c'est bien Angel, le duo composé du Finlandais Ilpo Väisänen (Pan sonic) et du Berlinois Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM), en particulier depuis i'incorporation de la violoncelliste Hildur Gudnadottir. Un parcours qui se révèle pleinement á l'écoute d'Hedonism, premier enregistré par le duo entre 1999 et 2004 mais demeuré inédit jusqu'alors. On y découvre un Angel plus sombre et brutal que ce auquel on était habitué, tout en machines crispées et distordues ('Holding Loose', 'Adrenaline Strike'). en particulier sur la première moitié de l'album. enregistrée à Berlin dans les premiers temps, avant que le duo n'entame un travail électro-acoustique plus orginal (et également plus proche de ce qu'il devait finalement choisir de développer par la suite), es n'use, sur deux titres, de tout un éventail de field recordings captés en Finlande près de chez Väisänen. Finalement servi par son hétérogénéité, 'Hedonism' fait bien plus que fixer les sources et les points d'accroche d'Angel: il ouvre égalment des voies médianes, dont on ignore si elles resteront comme telles ou finiront par être explorées à leur tour.
As Mego had been shifting towards the power-electronic and blackened noise end of the spectrum, this one is something of a surprise for us. The Olde English blackletter script which adorns the cover belies the agitated silence found within. Ibitsu is the work of Shunichiro Okada, whose debut for Editions Mego follows in the hushed footsteps of Robert Ashley's Automatic Writing or perhaps even Nurse With Wound's similarly minded composition A Missing Sense. Okada situates his composition in two distinct levels, a higher frequency ceiling and a lower than low subharmonic base with nothing (and do we mean nothing!) in between. Above there are insect-like vibrations that circle and buzz about the stereo field with occasional brushes with softened white noise; and below are agitated rumblings that sound like somebody trying to push a giant piece of furniture in the apartment upstairs. Even as the album gradually moves from inaudibility to microsound glitchiness, Ibitsu maintains a even-handed control which always favors the 'objectness' of silence. A bit of a warning: this is a mere 25 minutes long.
This 25 minute digital composition is fine tunes in extremis - it has been almost ten years in the making, with its creator having refined it, given up on it, lost it, retrievred it and reworked it over the course of that period. It demands a great deal of the listener - 'This is not a soundtrack to other activity', warn the accompanying notes. It also refused to play on certain speakers such as a pre-2000 stereo system I own, upon which it yielded nothing. A second attempt with the volume turned right up and it reveals itself, barely audible yet furiously inscribed with detail, like the scrabblings of a fly trapped in the ear canal worked up into a matrix of sound. This being Mego, you're expecting at any point a sudden, syringing blast of dental drill-like noise, but no such thing emerges. Instead, this represents, if nothing else, a rigorous exercise in the neglected art of listening.
The label notes astutely observe that this album is "not a soundtrack to other activity." Too right. As with some of the more strictly austere works from artists like Bernhard Guenter and Richard Chartier, Ibitsu's music is easy to miss, situated as it is on the fringes of audibility. This single, twenty-five minute piece predominantly occupies the extremities of the upper frequency range, intermittently rasping at you like a faulty fluorescent light only to take you unawares with a pulse of severe low end - the kind of frequencies that manifest themselves not so much as a sound but rather the feeling that suddenly there's someone standing behind you. Unnerving stuff, but a glorious thing to behold. It's wonderful to hear electronic music of this kind making a bit of a resurgence, and while clearly this near-silent composition won't be to everyone's taste, those of you with an experimental mindset - perhaps looking to give your ears a bit of a workout - will find this album beautiful and beguiling. Recommended.
It seems like I miss out on something here: the piece by Ibitsu took about ten years to complete and is a 'digital composition'. Somebody asked me not to refer to 'its the age thing', but I seriously doubt wether my ears are still good enough to pick up on this. A twenty-five minute of speaker rumble, sub sub sub bass and somewhere half way through high high high end sounds. 'An acid drenched take on the spirit of early Trente Oiseaux releases', Mego tells us. Ha, that's what it is. One of things people can talk about for ages in internet discussion groups I gather, and perhaps indeed has the same aural impact as Lopez' 'Warzawa Restaurant', although, when opened in an audio editor, this actually has wave forms to see - not that they are easily heard, but hey there is something there. Exactly the right length and dramatic built up. For various reasons quite an interesting release - it will shake up thought on digital music once again, and that's one of the great strengths of Editions Mego. (FdW)
Gv steht für Gisèle Vienne, die Pariser Choreographin, für deren Produktionen Rehberg mehrfach die Musik machte, für 'Kindertotenieder' (2007), aber auch für 'I Apologize' (2004), 'Une Belle Enfant Blonde' (2005) und 'Jerk' (2008). Von diesen drei mischte Rehberg eine neue Klangbildfolge, die auch ohne den theatralischen Kontext, als reines Hirnkino, für Unruhe im Grey Room sorgen soll. Die Stimme, die man burtale Phantasien muemeln hört, ist die von Viennes Librettisten Dennis Cooper, dem Autor des George Miles-Quintetts, dessen Text auch schon John Zorn zu 'Weird Little Boy' (1985) reizte. Rehberg macht keine 'Music For Films', er macht Musik als Film. die den Klangraum dramatisiert mit industrialer Harshness ('ML6'), aber ebenso mit düster hingetupftem Pathos, das kaskadierend überquillt und zischen zu pulsieren beginnt als harmonisch stehende Welle ('Slow Investigation'). Noch errgender ist, 'Black Holes' mit seiner schnellen, zunehmend melodischen Schamanenrhythmik in einer sturgepeitschten Brandung aus Drones, der Groove reißt anrupt ab, Cooper ruft Geister in die schwarzen Löcher seiner Ödipusaugen. Er liest so schnell er kann einen von fuck & shit triefenden Brief eines Arschlochs namens 'Ich' ('ML3'), bevor zuckende Beast den mäandernden Groove von 'Boxes & Angels' stottern, der einem melodiösen feinen Dröhnen Platz macht, das wiederum von giftigem Zischeln überrauscht wird und auch der zuckende Beat kehrt wieder. 'Final Jerk' schließlich bettet vordergründiges Gerappel, Gepfeife und Geschrei in das dunkle Summen eines Basschores, das in hektischem Automatenlärm untergeht. Das ist startker stoff.
Inventeur du glitch, à travers son identité de Pita, l'Autrichien Peter Rehberg s'est peu à peu éloigné des sonorités concassées qu'il avait fait apparaître un peu partout, pout exploer, en duo avec Stephen O'Malley de Sunn O))) sous l'indentité de KTL ou sous son non propre, des perspectives moins barbelées. Depuis déjà sept ans, il entretient égalment une collaboraation suivie avec la chorégraphe parisienne Gisèle Vienne, pour laquelle il signe un ensemble de bandes-son dont sont extraits les titres présentés ici. Théâtrales, évidemment, les pièces rassemblées par Peter Rehberg jouent sans doute, plus que de coutume, de la répétition et du mouvement, tout en laissant s'insinuer des climats sourds, des évolutions lentes et plombées. Lézardés de tristesse, les titres issus d'Une Belle Enfant Blonde côtoient souvent le dark-ambient, alors que ceux provenant d'I Apologize sont plus durs, plus narratifs, au point parfois de servir de simple toile de fond à des spoken words, le seul titre extrait de Jerk s'avérant finalement bien plus proche d'une lamentation à goût de cendre virant à la noise qu'à un jerk. Et si l'on se plaît à rêver de l'ampleur que pouvaient prendre ces titres dans un contexte scénique, il n'est pas interdit, loin de là, de s'extasier devant la maestria de Peter Rehberg qui, même dépourvu de l'appui des comédiens et danseuers, parvient à évoquer des images riches et persistantes
Extreme ambient music. Depuis quelques années, les nouvelles discographiques de Peter "Pita" Rehberg nous viennent presque exclusivement via son travail pour la chorégraphe Gisèle Vienne. Après les bandes-sons pour DACM (avec Tujiko Noriko) et la spectacle 'Kindertotenlieder' (avec Stephen O'Malley de SunnO), il compile ici quelques compositions vénéneuses réalisées pour la planches, mais qui se déploieront sans difficulté dans l'obscurité d'un apartement. Agglomérées en ascensions wagnériennes, les textures supliciantes de ce pilier imperturbable de l'extreme computer music se voient comme amadouées par l'univers lyrique de Vienne, et s'étalent dans une sorte d'ambient music des profondeurs, saumâtre et passionnante.
What can I say about Editions Mego boss Peter Rehberg that hasn't been said already (possibly by me...) -- well I may as well recap a little; he records under the Pita moniker and was responsible for some of the most genre defining releases of the last ten years with albums that became cornerstones of electronic noise music. In recent years his efforts have been re-focused somewhat to take in work under the KTL moniker (together with Sunn O)))'s Stephen O'Malley), so it is surprising to see this CD emerge from the Emego stable. Released under his own name rather than the Pita moniker, this finds Rehberg take a slight change of direction; I would still call it "extreme computer music" but the sounds have been tempered slightly, probably as these pieces are collaborations with the Paris based puppeteer and choreographer Gisèle Vienne. Written for Vienne's theatrical productions, we hear Rehberg framing his work around something very visual and this somewhat mutes his penchant for aggressive db levels, giving rise to some haunting and almost early-electronic/Radiophonic Workshop sounding pieces. Of course the blackened mood is still very much on show, helped along beautifully by the words of Dennis Cooper who lies his sadistic lines over Rehberg's aural bed of nails chancing upon the album's most horrifyingly effective moments. Spanning four years of recording, it amazes me just how well these pieces work as an album as it was never the intention for them to be heard in this way, but in spite of this it is probably my favorite work from Rehberg for some time, just pipping his killer No-Fun 12" from last year. Let's hope there's even more material on the way -- grim and extreme... just the way I like it. [JT]
Peter Rehberg's relationship with Parisian choreographer and puppeteer Gisele Vienne began with the 2001 DACM release Showroomdummies and has continued right up to the mighty Kindertotenlieder (KTL) project with Stephen O'Malley. This album looks back over the past four years of Rehberg's collaboration with Vienne, though omits the KTL output - presumably because it's since developed a life of its own. When listening to soundtrack music (something this album is likely to be classified as) it's always difficult working out what you're missing in the absence of the visual performance element. Importantly, Rehberg's compositions function superbly as standalone works, taking on wildly divergent forms and structures across the selection presented here: while the opener, 'Murder Version' plants us comfortably within the electroacoustic DSP-frenzy of Pita's recent solo output, you'll encounter far more ambitious and subtle recordings such as the hauntingly beautiful 'Slow Investigation', which unfolds like a 21st century remix of some lost, early tape music. Those of you expecting some harsh, digital noise exercises will be pleased to hear the venomous distortion of 'Black Holes' and the cacophonous spoken word piece 'MI6', but as with Rehberg's most successful enterprises, nothing here is clear-cut, and within a single track he's able to make something very beautiful from what might otherwise be viewed as ostensibly quite ugly. 'Boxes & Angels' is based around a repeating, strobing synth riff, morphed, modulated and shattered across an extended period - it's the kind of strategy we've heard before on Pita's Get Out or the FennO'Berg releases. Waves of noise flood in alongside trance-inducing, quasi-orchestral chord sequences, resulting in something that's at once ear-bending and unnervingky emotive. It's an exceptional piece, and like so much of the music here, just couldn't have been made by anyone else. Highly recommended.
Compared to the powerful concision of Peter Rehberg’s earlier albums as Pita, Work for GV 2004–2008 should be nothing more than a compilation. How else are we supposed to understand a record that combines bits of soundtracks from three different stage productions? The eight tracks here were culled from the music Rehberg contributed to choregrapher Gisèle Vienne’s stage productions I Apologize, Une Belle Enfant Blonde and Jerk. The fact that Work for GV holds together as a unified statement illuminates, more than anything, the depth of Rehberg’s craft.
This new release from electronic music pioneer and Editions Mego boss Peter Rehberg collects the music he wrote for French choreographer Gisèle Vienne between 2004 and 2008. Given the music is taken from three different productions, I Apologize, Une Belle Enfant Blonde and Jerk, and written over a period of four years, the album is remarkable for the coherence of its aesthetic–one that takes in melodic synth excursions, hi-tech sound design and harsh noise.
Over the last years, electronic music pioneer Peter Rehberg (a.k.a. Pita) has frequently worked with puppeteer and choreographer Gisele Vienne. While the most prominent body of work resulting from this synesthetic partnership, Rehberg's and Stephen O'Malley's "Kindertotenlieder" project KTL, has created a significant following of its own, this album collects Rehberg's solo contribution to Vienne's absurd anti-bourgeois puppetry.
Es waren und es sind beeindruckende Stücke, die Peter Rehberg in den vergangenen Jahren für die Bühnenstücke von Gisèle Vienne geschrieben und aufgenommen hat. Schon die reinen Audio-Spuren vermitteln viel an Stimmung und Ausdruck. Rehberg ist mit diesen Werken genau am Punkt angelangt, wenn scheinbar abstrakte Stücke für geübte und ungeübte Ohren offensichtlich Narrative enthalten. Narrative, die wie die Musik nicht unbedingt festgelegten Strukturen folgen oder Bekanntes festigen, sondern die assoziativ Vorschläge machen und leiten. Und ja, damit ist Rehberg einem möglichen Seinesgrund, Hauptmotiv und Augenmerk von Miusik an sich ziemlich nahe. Das hier hat etwas Überwältigendes, Schönes, wie es nur Musik haben kann. 9/10
Peter Rehberg's sucker punch electronics provide suitable shock treatment to his recent soundtrack work.
Fragende Gesichter hat Industrialpionier und Percussionist Z'EV in der Vergangenheit nicht selten hiterlassen. Seine Klangkonstruktionen verweigerm sich jeglicher Struktur, bauen auf eine Atmosphäre, die beklemmend, eruptiv bis bedrohlich auf den Hörer einwirkt und ihn mitnimmt. Auch die Zusammenarbeit mit Experimentalmusiker PITA (Peter Rehberg) führt den roten Faden im Œuvre Z'EV's fort. Unterlegt mit dunkeln synthetischen Ambientflächen ziehen Z'EV's Percussions wie Gepsenster um Mitternacht durch einen einzigen, 36-minütigen Track, der zwar unterteilt ist, aber als Ganzes gesehen werden muss. Gewachsen aus einem monatlichen Austausch ihrer Musikdateien handelt es sich bei 'Colchester' um eine nachbearbeitete Lievaufnahme, die, laut aufgedreht, vor allem verstört. Ein paar ratlose Gesichter wird es auch diesmal geben.
Given the current flurry of cross-fertilisation between the far extremities of noise, Industrial, Doom, drone and electronica, finding z'ev and Pita (aka Mego's Peter Rehberg) working together on this turbulent document has a near inevitable logic to it. A single, steadily mutating piece just under 36 minutes long, 'Colchester' is never as apocalyptically mordant as either Pita's ongoing collaboration with SunnO)))'s Stephen O'Malley as KTL, or 'Magistral', z'ev's own face-off with O'Malley.
Für die besonderen Momente in Leben: 36 Minuten Live-Musik. Ein Stück. Elektronik und Percussion. Post-Industrialismen, Neo-Tribales und ein entpanntes Kunstverständnis verlieren sich in Klingern des Schlagwerks über fast imaginäre Metalgitter, dahinter ein digitaler Wespenschwarm unaufhaltsam aufstiegt, um sich irgendwo hinter der Schneellwallung im eigenen Surren zu verlieren. Kreislauf, verstehst du? Derlei (Anti-) Trance-Musik entfaltet sich natürlich am besten, wenn sie, wie hier, nur ihres Klanges wegen ensteht, das Erzeugen desselben also das Ritual selbst ist. Keine ideologien, abenkenden Intentionen oder anderes Rumgehabe, nur die Musik. Sich in Rage spielen. Alle Zeit auflösen. Einfach machen. Schöpfer sein. Fertig.
Eine sehr überzeugende Kollaboration ist die zwischen Industrial-Pionier z'ev und Peter Rehberg alias Pita, dem Gesicht hinter dem österreichischen Experimentalmusik-Label Mego. Gerade diese beiden Musiker sind praktisch permanent in zahllose Zusammenarbeiten verstrickt, und es hat sich ausgezahlt, dass sie davon ausgerechnet dieser seit 2004 so viel Zeit zur Entfaltung geschenkt haben (u.a. wurden die Stücke bereits auf der Bühne erprobt).
One of a half-dozen full-lengths to be released by New York noise artist Prurient this year, Arrowhead can be considered in either of two contexts depending upon your familiarity with the one-man-band's sizable discography or with noise music at large. If you're interested in Prurient, Arrowhead is a revealing transitional retrospective, intense but with precedent. If you're not, it's a shocking, singular piece of hair-raising noise. Either way, it's yet another essential piece in Prurient's metastasized catalog and one of the year's most obliterative and exhilarating releases.
Fandom for power electronics and noise calls for a difficult aesthetic defence to the outside music world. Some artists create vast slabs of low end that provoke bodily displacement more direct that any punk rock. Others flood the entire spectrum of sound with shifting sheets of noise that obliterate all internal electricity. Prurient (aka Dominic Fernow) lives in the stratosphere of frequencies on Arrowhead, provoking often not much more than provocation itself. Over the three tracks named for the enclosures and contents of the chest Fernow unleashes a hearing test gone wrong. “Sternum” is pitched presumably to approximate the sound of a tool stubbornly piercing bone, complete with little flecks of noise dropping away from time to time. “Ribcage” somehow discovers an even higher tone that’s still sickeningly perceptible (and probably fatal to dogs) and careens on a panning feedback rampage. Finally, the coda “Lungs” presents muted distortion of the same feedback, suggesting damage to the airways and also your hearing from enduring the previous half-hour.
People will try to sell you Arrowhead as an extreme noise record -- and of course, they would be right. That is what Prurient has been doing for many long years now. And yet, Arrowhead is a somewhat lighter release for Prurient, the key word here being "somewhat." The opening piece "Sternum" consists of a sensitive lamentation of floor tom and mumbling vocals, over a high-pitched whine. That whine is punishing at high volume, but turn that knob down a few notches and the piece becomes almost ambient and entrancing. Since it fills almost half of the album's half-hour duration, it sets this opus on an unusual track. "Ribcage" comes closer to what you'd expect from Prurient: harsh noise split between occasional low rumbles and persistent high screeching, with distorted screams and shouts added. "Lungs" provides a short postlude (four minutes), with a pummeling overdriven beat track dissolving into harsh noise. Again, these tracks are not as in-your-face as usual, which may be due to Editions Mego's tendency to master the music in a way that allows the details to show. Without actually marking a new direction, Arrowhead does open up Prurient's music to a spatial dimension hitherto unsuspected. It should still satisfy noise fans, but amateurs of sound art will also find it welcoming.
Ultimately, "noise music" is as tricky a genre tag as the much-debated "indie rock." Critics and fans use "noise" at least as broadly as "indie," and in some ways the generalization has an even greater leveling effect on the music it describes, considering that "noise" can be traced back to avant-garde classical music -- in particular the musique concrète developed by Pierre Schaeffer in the late '40s and '50s. Stretched to its limit, though, the term encompasses all music that focuses on texture to the exclusion of traditional music markers: harmony, rhythm and melody. An umbrella term like "noise," however, can only begin to point us in the direction that Prurient's Arrowhead takes its listeners.
“To enter a painful space conducting highend feedback and ever-relentless coarse vocal screams” and you’re some way to defining ‘Arrowhead’ and its ferocity. This latest arrival from Prurient (AKA Dominic Fernow) took four years to reach our ears, and in doing so seems to have refined a clearer, more explosive sound. The devastating feedback manipulations are minimal landscapes of piercing notes, which waver mirage-like at some impending distance. Unless you own an expensive pair of headphones or live miles from anywhere I suggest you approach playing this record with caution. It is loud high-pitched and travels unbelievable distances, (much to my neighbour’s annoyance).
Most people’s reaction to the shrill feedback of a microphone would be to stop it. Prurient, a.k.a. Dominick Fernow, isn’t like most people. Instead, he has taken that startling sound, one we all instinctually recoil from, and built a lexicon out of it, a symbolic mirror of how the conscious shrinks from what the sub-conscious throws at it. Live and on record, Fernow gets to this threshold quickly and puts listeners in an uncomfortable position, pushing them to query the core of his music from the very first moment, forcing an answer to the question, “Do I want to continue to listen to this? If I do, why?”
It's not unusual to see people clinging to the walls during the frequency insanity part of Prurient sets, holding on to stop themselves from falling over die to the barrage of high-end hammering on the inner-ear. It's these sounds that make up the majority of this 2004-2005 archive release, making this one of Prurient's most visceral and physical recordings yet. There three painfully high-pitched slabs are uncomfortable listens in both senses of the word, violent tones that shake the brain close to its throbbing threshold (headphones not advised). Shotgun pelleted with loose percussion and roars from the tied-up and wrapped in plastic victim in the next apartment, all three cuts scream through the gag of long-suffered internalised violence. 'Rib Cage' is the most hands-on self-destruction piece here, metal on metal through skin and tissue, and ugly ramification of inward-loathing. Arrowhead is self-flagellation minus the eroticism or penance - no wonder Prurient left it brooding in the vault.
If ever I wanted music to encapsulate raw pain and anguish in such agonising detail and with such empathy, then this has to be it. Arrowhead is familiar Prurient/Dominick Fernow territory of emotions stripped bare and the ugly underside of the human condition, all delineated through his use of tortured circuits and fried electronics.
'Höre mit Schmerzen', forderten die Neubauten vor Urzeiten auf. Während sie selber längst in kuschelige Lager übergewechselt sind, gib'ts auch 2008 noch einige unerschrockene Schmetzliebhaber, für die die gewaltsmae Ohrenpenetration an erster Stelle steht. An vorderster Front dabei ist der New Yorker Dominick Fernow. Auf 'Arrowhead' gibt's zwei lange Tracks zu hören, die das klassische Power Electronics Setting (sprich. durchgehendes extrem hohes Pfeifen ohne nenneswerte Variationen) mit unkontrolliertem Bearbeiten eines Drumkits und Cut&Go Verstatzstücke aus der japanischen Lärmschule kreuzt. Für eher sanfte Gemüter gibt's als Dreingabe ein knapp fünf minütiges Rhythmusmonster zwishcen LoFi-Grindcore und Digitalnoise.
Recorded contempraneously with sides like 'Black Vase', Dominick Fernow aka Pruirent's 'Arrowhead' has taken almost four years to see the light of day. This dates it to a period of upheaval in or, more correctly, refinement of the Prurient aesthetic, as 'Black Vase' in particular was monomaniacal in its unrelenting focus on high-end dynamics and body-slamming percussion. Unyielding in its intent, 'Arrowhead' is similary instructive: it exemplifies the fierce intelligence that goes into Fernow's noise. This is artfully bracing listening.
Hmm! Lecker Lärm! Jemand vom Label hörte 'Arrowhead' im Flugzeug und bemerkte, dass 2 Reihen vor ihm jemand ein Pfeifen der Klimaanlage monierte. Doch dafür kann weder Airbus oder Boeing, der Verursacher der hochfrequenten Srörungen heißt Dominick Fernow aka Prurient. Die 3 tracks dieser herrlichen (und am besten wirklich laut, dann aber wahrscheinlich nur alleine zu hörenden) CD flirren und sirren, die beats gehen in diesem Gewitter fast unter und die irgendwo darunter verschütteten vocals kann man bestenfalls erahnen. Weil schiere Gewalt hier aber keineswegs das alleinige Ausdruckmittel bleibt, ist dies seit längerem endlich mal wieder eine interessante Platte aus dem sonst so ausgelutschten Genre 'Power Electronics'. +++++
'Arrowhead' ist das bislang radikalste Werk des New Yorker Noise-Musikers Dominik Fernow. Stellen seine aktuellen Arbeiten eine Auseinandersetzung mit der Fusion von Noise und melodischen Elementen dar - mysteriöse Synthesizer-Harmonien, die in dichte Lärmwolken eingearbeitet werden und in ihrer Machart an die unheiligen Experimente des Black Metals erinnern - so handelt es sich bei »Arrowhead« um drei ältere, vor vier Jahren entstandene Kompositionen. Bezeichnend ist hierbei die Sparsamkeit in der Wahl des musikalischen Materials.
Noise music has reached the point when all frequencies are well used, from near to complete silent pieces to extreme clouds of white noise. Dominick Fernow is dealing with this range of frequencies for over a decade, creating a postcards-from-hell-one-man show. Amazingly, this guy is getting precise and interesting from one release to another, and he`s already got over 100 releases so far, for his solo work and many other collaborations (with Kevin Drumm, Wolf Eyes and John Wiese to mention a few). Mostly releasing his stuff under his own NYC label "Hospital Productions" this release delivered by the Austrian label E-Mego. The album opens with very high, painful and loose frequency, a total anti-thesis for the mediative droning you get this days, so you find your self trying to dive into the music and concentrate, but with prurient it never easy. Random drumming and far-reached moaning comes from the back of the speakers. This track has no solution, you get all lost, just one second before a blast of power electronics attacks for another 14 minutes. Feeling lost is the core of this release, this is not uplifting noise. This is desperate crying. The last track though is a perfect closer for this work-body, leaned on repetitive tribal drumming swimming in a pool of glittering noise that slowly taking over every inch of space, until you cannot breathe anymore. This unique moments when noise albums gets emotional and physical at the same time are rare to find, and "Arrowhead" is one of them.
In alter Tradition der Power Electronics ist Dominick Fernow ein Attentäter auf den guten Geschmack. Die musikalische Gestik, die Fernow in seiner Arbeit unter dem Namen Prurient an den Tag legt, mag man dabei zu Teilen als veraltet, manchmal sogar als lachhaft empfinden. Trotzdem landet er hin und wieder einen punktgenauen Treffer, wie in »Sternum«, dem Opener seiner neuen LP »Arrowhead« (EditionsMego): Unheimlich reduziert lässt er da einen schrillenden Klang ertönen, variiert ihn bar jeder Struktur und verzerrt ihn hörbar nur in besonderen Momenten. Die Frequenz ist erwartungsgemäß enervierend, doch Fernow macht keinerlei Anstalten, diesen fein ausgearbeiteten Standard durch ein weiteres Element auf die Spitze zu treiben: Immer wieder lässt er schließlich nach einiger Zeit vereinzelte Trommelschläge von einem konventionellen Drumkit ertönen. Eine nachvollziehbare Folge mag sich dabei natürlich nicht erschließen, und so erwartet man bei entsprechender Lautstärke den kommenden Schlag mit einem zweiseitigen Spannungsgefühl: Zum einen zwar ist das unvermittelte Auftauchen der Trommeln unangenehm, zum anderen aber ist jeder Schlag auch eine kurze, regelrecht wohltuende Erlösung von dem schmerzenden Pfeifen, das den musikalischen Grundstock bildet.
La légende - bien joli nom pour une simple feuille de presse - prétend qu'un passager d'un vol Milan-Vienne s'est un jour plaint de sifflements aigus dans le système de climatisation de l'avion. L'anecdote est tout à fait plausible, tant les sons produits par le New-Yorkais Prurient - né Dominick Fernow et boss du label Hospital Productions - soumettent à une extrême tension le système auditif de toute personne normalement constituée. Dit crûment, on pourrait penser que l'écoute à volume simplement normal des douze minutes de "Sternum" constitue une épreuve aux frontières de l'insoutenable, et pourtant. Certes, ces mots pourraient passer pour une épouvantable critique négative, ils ne font que traduire l'incroyable - les mots manquent en pareilles circonstances - fascination que nous avons éprouvée à l'écoute de ces sonorités suraiguës, aux limites de l'(in)audible, qui transpercent les percussions brutales et les cris de torture en arrière-plan. A peine moins démesurées, les quatorze minutes de "Ribcage" font penser à une aciérie en folie et les quatre minutes du final "Lungs" évoquent le bruit d'un réacteur capté à trente centimètres. Quant à toi, ami lecteur attentif d'Octopus, habitué que tu es à la radicalité du label Editions Mego, tu ne perds rien pour entendre.
The second installment of Russell Haswell’s Live Salvage project refuses to be a lot of things. Musically, it refuses to settle easily into one approach. It disintegrates the limits between styles with impunity, tearing down what was left of the walls between classic studio computer music and modern-day noise. In fact, Haswell comes close to refusing anything even remotely musical, mostly rejecting even the extreme, pain-pushing high frequencies and volume spikes of his pervious work, as well as the occasional symmetries and stark order of much computer music. Battered references to savage metal and bleak drone surface, but don’t hold. Repetition, timbre, rhythm – all these get shredded and replaced by texture, masses, architecture. These aren’t compositions; they’re mammoth, roaring, organic automatons who have lost their code, subterranean in habitat, relentless by nature and harrowing in character.
Adepte de l'improvisation scénique. qui fait que chaque concert est différent du précédent selom l'ambiance du lieu, les réactions du public et l'humeur de l'artiste, l'Anglais Russell Haswell n'a d'autre moyen pour rendre compte de son travail que publier des albums live retraçant son parcours. Comme il l'a fait en 2001 avec une première série d'extraits, il récidive donc aujourd'hui avec le double LP 'Second Live Salvage' regroupant des lives datant de 2000 à 2008, et captés, entre autres, á Paris, Brighton, Francfort ou Kita Kyushu. Mur de bruit opaque et impénétrable ou influences concrètes, i'œuvre d'Haswell s'y révèöe polychrome, même si une certaine agressivité métallique domine toujours. Tourjours extrêmement détaillé, le processus d'Haswell, qui marie synthèse granulaire, reconstruction en temps réel, et outlils hérités des expériences de Xenakls ou du GRM, atteste que, bien au-delà de la simple éruption sonore qui caractérise souvent la noise, la musique, telle qu'elle est pratiquée par Russell Haswell, tient finalement auatant de l'êtude que de la pulsion. Un témoignage indispensable d'une musique éphémère.
Massive limited edition double LP, sold out at source, that documents some insanely heavy live actions from Russell Haswell, with improvised performances drawn from 2000 through 2005. This one bundles shows from Valencia, Stockholm, Frankfurt, Brighton, Paris and Japan. Haswell uses computer, software and a pro-DJ-mixer to generate ferocious shape-shifting monoliths of tone-threat that are as terrifyingly a-musical as early Conrad Schnitzler or Faust at their most Industrial. There's an epic, avant-classical edge to his conceptions that kinda parallels Philip Best's breakthroughs on the last Consumer Electronics album, coupled with a feel for lurid, organic shape-shifting that could almost be Japanese, a hunch that the final 'bonus' track with T. Mikawa from Incapacitants/Hijokaidan only confirms. A fantastic 'noise' record, one of the best of the year, and highly recommended.
This release follows up on Haswell's release eight years ago of the first Live Salvage album, which compiled live recordings made between 1997 and 2000. Since then, Haswell has released collaborative works with Merzbow (on Warp's Satanstornade) and Florian Hecker - the Gilbert to his George, the Eric (or indeed Burt) to his Ernie. Fortunately, Haswell has also been playing live extensively, amassing a new cache of live recordings to throw our way. At this stage, it would probably be worth pointing out to those of you who have not yet guessed it, that Russell Haswell is a noise musician, one who straddles both the cerebral noise world of the eMego camp and the more brutish, DIY, Japanese-inspired aesthetic. The range of terrifying timbres on show during Second Live Salvage is headspinning: there are recordings that sound like a swarm of giant bees let loose in a cathedral, others that resemble the sound of a dentist's drill as heard through the vibrations in your own jawbone, and of course, plenty of moments in which you feel compelled to check that you are in fact listening to a record and not, instead, being run over by a train. There are plenty of noise artists out there who know how to play with the extremities of sound, but it takes someone as talented as Haswell to make it a truly transcendent experience. While so many musicians just throw feedback and distortion in your face, this one makes noise sound like an entity unto itself - not a by-product of some aggressive signal processing or merely something that's too loud - this doesn't sound like music that's the product of distortion pedals and so forth: Russell Haswell gives birth to noise, as if it was never anything other than noise. It's absolute, tyrannical and annihilatingly powerful. Unbelievably good - a massive recommendation.
Reclaimed live reordings take computer music out of its academic ghetto and subject it to gale force extremes. By Nick Cain You can understand why Russell Haswell uses the term salvage, with its connotations of risk and danger. 'Second Live Salvage' comprises of recordings of live performances dating from 2000 to 2007, which Haswell defines as salvage recordings because he didn't record them himself. Like those collected on 'Live Salvage 1997->2000', his 2001 solo debut, they were all made by audience members, then either given to or tracked down by Haswell. He undertook 'premastering salvage' work on them, with the aim of bringing closer to his memories of the event and the acoustics of the venue in which it took place. Given the distinctly variable quality of the recordings in their released state, recovery would be the more accurate term.
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! - Das ist das Geilste an purem Noise, was mir seit langem untergekommen ist! Genau so und nicht anders muß es klingen, wenn man kompromisslos und ohne Rücksicht auf Verluste frei loslärmt! Es knarzt, dröhnt, quietscht und bollert aus allen Rohren und die Boxen werden in Brand geschossen. Menschen flüchten panisch ins Freie und halten sich dann trotz geschlossenen Türen noch die Ohren zu. Zufällig vorbeikommende Lebewesen schauen verwirrt zum Himmel hinauf, weil sie denken gleich beginnt die Apokalypse. - Nur ein paar ganz Verrückte stehen vor der Bühne, zucken wie in Trance, die Fäuste in die die Luft gestreckt und schreien gegen dieses Inferno bis zur Bewusstlosigkeit an. Willkommen im Noise-Nirvana! (10/10)
Obwohl Russell Haswell stets dem Elektronishcen verbunden bleibt, produziert er doch eine Musik, die sich ästhetisch nicht nur am naheliegenden Noise-Sound aus Japan und Europa, sondern zudem an der Fäuste ballenden Art extremer Rock-Spielarten speist. Die Compilation 'Second Live Salvage' präsentiert Haswell in mehreren sehr unterschiedlichen Episoden seinen Erschütterungswut, die er zuweilen mit so viel rostiger Substanz überlädt, dass er sine eigenes Equipment einer wahren Belastungsprobe unterzieht. Interessant ist, dass die vorliegenden Aufnahmen erst in Nachhinein und oftmals gar aus zweiter Hand zusammengetragen wurden: Im Mastering-Prozess hat Haswell versucht, aus dem Gedächtnis die Atmosphäre des jeweiligen Auftritts zu rekonstruieren. Das Ergebnis schließlich hat was von einem ruppigen, liebevollen Bootleg, wird aber leider nur zu Promozwecken ganz angemessen im anachronistischen Tape-Format herausgegeben. Die offizielle Variante erscheint auf Vinyl.
This milestone of early laptop music, "made by Pita 1998/99 using an Apple Powerbook 1400cs/133" is an integral part of music history, but also in the history of productive means. Austrian Peter Rehberg, a.k.a. Pita, has collaborated with what seems like a "Who's Who" of underground avantgarde music, namely Jim O'Rourke, Christian Fennesz, Kevin Drumm, Stephen O'Malley, and Florian Hecker etc. This album, though, is what Rehberg's reputation and status rest upon (together with its predecessor, "Seven tons for free"), and – unlike some Aphex Twin, Atari Teenage Riot or Kid 606 albums – it hasn't aged much. Maybe that's because his tracks are industrial, harsh, machine-like, without ever (I think) using beats and aiming at urban dancefloors. If "Get Out" conjures any imagery, it is indeed an imagery of production, not one of reception: This is music that defies social space.
Was so schön loslärmt, flacht gegen Ende immer weiter in die Belanglosigkeit an und verkommt zu einer komplette verkopften und abstrakten Computernerd-Arbeit. Mir ist es eigentlich egal, wie Noise, Industrial oder ähnliche atonale Geräuschmusik produziert wird, aber über die Jahre bekommt man ein Ohr dafür, ob es sich um 'Live-Action' hadelt, will heißen: Viele Pedale, Selbstgebautes oder Knöpfverdrehen bis über den Anschlag hinaus, oder ob da jemend stundenlang vor einem Bildschirm sitzt, seine Ideen programmiert und bis in die Unendlichkeit ausarbeitet. Peter Rehberg scheint der letztgenannten Spezies anzugehören und macht seine Arbeit sehr gut, keine Frage und Track 3, der durchgehend nur nummerierten und damit namenlosen Stücke, ist eindeutig sein Meisterwerk. Danach war einfach die Luft raus und die klanglichen Möglichkeiten seines Apple Powerbooks erschöpft. Was der Herr sich da aus nur einem Sample aus Céline Dions 'Titantic'-Heuler 'My Heart Will Go On' zusammenbaut, ist flirrender, fieser und de-programierter Digital-Noise der Extraklasse. Danach kommt, wie schon erwähnt, recht wenig Neues und die üblichen Zerr- und Störgeräusche werden immer weiter minimalisiert, reduziert und seziert. Da fehlt einfach hörbar der 'Spaßfaktor' und das spielerische, naive Element, das solcher Musik dann auch den Lebensfunken einhaucht. (8/10)
Mego was on of the unique labels for experimental electronics during the 90's. During the last year the label was closed and re-opened by Peter Rehberg as Editions-Mego, taking care of the back catalog of the former label and releasing major body works for the creme de la creme of nowadays electronica artists. Still, the main catalog leans on Rehberg (and Fennesz) works. This release is a re-issue for the 1999 masterpiece "Get Out" by Reherg himself, under his Pita moniker. Back then, no one could ignored the amazing step of puting aside the samplers, guitars and the analog equipment in favor of (just) a laptop. Nowadays, people get cynical for the "cold" and "i'm actually checking my emails" live laptop performances, but we tend to forget that in the end, the output is all that matters, specially when documentized. "Get Out" is a breaking point for this process, combining all the right influences from Controlled Bleeding, Throbbing Gristle, Nurse With Wound and Mika Vainio, compressed together into a versatile fuzzy, crunchy and ear-splitting noise motivated by minimal harmonics and clicks-and-cuts craziness. The rough changes between the tracks isolate the supposed-to-be cleanness of the computer work and create hypnotic journey around new-era electronic compositions. The nice thing about it is that almost ten years after, it still sounds fresh and exciting. Next to Fennes'z "Endless Summer" this is a true pioneering art-work.
A timely reissue of Peter Rehberg's orginal digi-noise project created using Apple Powerbook in 1998/1999 while on the road following his prize winning Seven Tons For Free debut. His recent excursion into drone with KTL may have brought him to a new audience, but Pita is Rehberg's work stripped to the core. Just a man and his laptop, moments of rare beauty emerge from his digital manipulations, but for the most part Get Out is a full on assault on the senses withs its walls of ear-splitting noise.
Dopo essere stato fuori catalogo per oltre cinque anni, ecco tornare alla ribalta un grande album del catalogo Mego, per l'occasione rimasterizzato, impacchettato in una lussuoso digipack e arricchito con tre tracce extra. Come ormai noto, dietro il moniker di Pita si cela Peter Rehberg, eccezionale compositore oltre che fondatore della grande label austriaca: in 'Get Out' il compositore elettronico mette in riga i grandi della 'glitch generation', gli autarchici rumoristi ed i maestri del minimalismo da laptop, elevando questa prova ai livelli dell 'Heroin' di Mathieu ed Ehlers. I bonus estrati da un 12" realizzato con Kevin Drumm, folli come nelle migliori apsettative, chiudono il cerchio di un disco memorabile ed extraterrestre. 9/10
Re-issue aktion from KTL's Peter Rehberg, 'Get Out' (Pita's second LP), was originally realised as the nineties began to curl up and die. Lauded at the time of its release, and since popular within and without electronic music circles, 'Get Out' has been described as the electronic equivalent of Jimi Hendrix's 'Are You Experienced'. Out of print for over 5-years now, this edition comes in a purple 6-panel digipack. Challenging yet intrinsically serene, Pita is the maxi-priest of minimalism, and 'Get Out' is as good a place to start as any!
A welcome reissue from one of the originators of mind-bending computer music. Peter Rehberg's 1999 release seems to have been influential in the sphere of modern electronic composition. Especially with regards to the use of the laptop as a creation and performance tool. Despite the occasional ear-scraping bursts of digital noise, this doesn't come close to the harsher end of the Mego spectrum. Certainly doesn't use software as a device for sonic violence or wanton aggression. It also hasn't dated one iota....
Collega (pds), die in rustiger tijden de schijfjes van Pita en zijn labelgenoten in handen krijgt om er fijne recensies over te schrijven, kampte deze keer met tijdsgebrek. Sinds we naar het landelijke Kortrijk verhuisden (na vijfentwintig jaar Gent) wonen we bij elkaar om de hoek en pds gaf me de kans om een paar woorden vuil te maken aan de heruitgave van 'Get Out', een cd die oorspronkelijk in 1999 verscheen. 'Get Out' van Pita (aka Peter Rehberg) is inmiddels uitgegroeid tot een klassieker in het genre. Gebruik makend van een Apple Powerbook 1400cs/133 componeerde Pita een aantal stukken. Op deze heruitgave staan de negen oorspronkelijke stukken, weliswaar volledig geremasterd, aangevuld met de drie stukken die eerder verschenen op de split twelve inch uit 2000 (BOXmedia) met Kevin Drumm. Rehberg zou zichzelf niet zijn natuurlijk als die drie stukken netjes achter de stukken van 'Get Out' zouden komen te staan. Twee ervan wel, eentje heeft hij gewoon tussen de andere titelloze stukken gegooid. Niet dat het, voor onze oren toch, veel verschil maakt. Echte songs staan er op dit plaatje toch niet. De nummers spelen met toonhoogte en flarden melodie en lopen eigenlijk allemaal gewoon in elkaar over. 'Get Out', de tweede cd die Pita uitbracht (na het debuut 'Seven Tons For Free') is eigenlijk het eerste belangrijke album met laptopmuziek dat uitkwam. De plaat was al jaren niet meer te verkrijgen, maar daar is nu dus verandering in gekomen. Essentiële piepmuziek waar lange slapers aan ontsnappen. Onze huisgenoten krijgen namelijk de kriebels van dit soort intrigerende albums en wij zijn hier de vroege vogel.
'Get Out' von Pita ist ein kleines Meisterwerk der elektronischen Musik. Eine erweiterte Neuauflage ruft uns seine Faszination wieder ins Gedächtnis
Peter Rehberg: in Wien ansässiger Komponist elektronischer Musik, neben Christian Fennesz vielleicht der international bekannteste dort; Mitbetreiber von Mego, 'one of the most important and influential electronic music labels of the last decade' (Edwin Pouncey, The Wire), dass nun nach seinem Ende von 2005 unter dem Namen editionsMego das vorzügliche Repertoire wieder veröffentlicht. Die neueste Kostbarkeit ist das inzwischen zum Klassiker avancierte Album 'Get Out' von Pita selbst. Schon bei der Veröffentlichung 1999 war dieses eine Offenbarung; eine Zerreißprobe zwischen den ausgereizten Polen von An- und Entspannung. 'Get Out' beginnt mit einer Aneinanderreihung von Tonhöhen, welche die Aufnahmefähigkeit des Gehörs auf die Probe stellen und einen Hund artig apportieren lassen. Wer diese drei Minuten Störfunk übersteht, dem wird einerseits Einlass gewährt in die akustische Welt von Pita, der sieht sich andererseits allerdings auch mit den elementaren Fragen der Tonkunst konfrontiert: Was ist eigentlich Musik? Inwiefern verändert die elektronische Manipulation von Klängen die Hörgewohnheiten? Geräusche, Noten, Töne werden in ihre kleinsten, selbständigen Teile zerlegt, ohne vordergründig logischen Zusammenhang, ohne unbedingte innere Kohärenz. Die Klänge sind vom Ort ihres Entstehens entbunden. 'Get Out' ist so ein Aufbegehren gegen jegliche Autorität. Die Kompositionen von Peter Rehberg bleiben immateriell. Die neun Tracks wollen uns anfassen, ohne zu berühren. Es ist, als wolle Pita beweisen, dass die elektronische Musik nun in der Lage sei, unser bisheriges Verständnis von Musik mit leichter Hand zu unterminieren. 'We Don't Need No Music', wie folgerichtig der Titel des ersten Tracks auf der im Jahre 2002 folgenden LP 'Get Down' lautete. Dennoch ist es nicht so, als würde hier die bloße Willkür regieren, dahinter steckt ein System. Es war hier nicht umsonst von Kompositionen die Rede. So tauchen immer wieder auch konventionelle Tonfolgen auf und es wird mit Intensität, Dichte, Lautstärke gespielt: Ein ständiges Anschwellen und Abschwellen hinein in die Dekonstruktion.
Poursuivant sa campagne de réédition, Mego redonne une deuxième jeunesse au Get Out de Peter Rehberg, deuxième album du fondateur du label, initialement paru en 1999 et complété dans cette version 2008 des trois titres paru sur le BOXmedia de 2000, un 12" partagé à l'époque avec le complice bruitiste Kevin Drumm.
Comme le laisse entendre la longue pièce N°3 - aucun morceau n'a de titres -, Get Out propose une quintessence supposée des musiques digitales d'avant-garde telles qu'on pouvait les aborder à l'époque, quelque part entre les teintes grésillantes des matières musicales industrielles, les abstractions sensitives des musiques acousmatiques, les colorations harmoniques d'une sensualité techno prise à rebrousse-poil et les strates soniques d'une noise musique électrifiée dans sa tension maximale. Un disque unificateur et presque zélateur d'une culture musicale électronique au sens large, et qui garde aujourd'hui une identité et un pouvoir de séduction fort.
PITAs Get Out (eMEGO 029) bezieht seinen Titel von Aleister Crowleys Eight Lectures On Yoga: Sit Still. Stop Thinking. Shut Up. Get Out. Scheiß Double-binds. Scheiß Yoga. Was nun als Wiederveröffentlichung vorliegt, gilt längst als Powerbook-Pioniertat. Vexierend zwischen scharfem Noise und verzerrten Musiksamples, explizierte Peter Rehberg 1999 die neuen Lustpotentiale digitaler Reize. The same old Industrial- und Avantshit, aber mit der coolen Power von Apple keimfrei gemacht, der Lack zerkratzt zu Metahochglanz mit der sarkastischen Nonchalance von Cyberpunk. Der Londoner hatte seine Coolness schon in Kollaborationen mit General Magic und mit Bauer gezeigt und konnte sie im selben Jahr mit FennO'Berg und als Prix Ars Electronica-Gewinner noch steigern. Rehberg ließ Melodien selig in Weißem Rauschen versinken und machte Dekonstruktion zu einer sinnlichen Erfahrung. Er fuhr aber nicht nur noisig die Krallen aus, er schusserte auch mit unrund kullernden Glasmurmeln und konnte sich dabei in ihre schlierigen Farben, ihr nahezu psychedelisches Glitchen und Clicken verlieren. Abrupt aber folgten wieder nervöse Zuckungen, Laserbeschuss der Synapsen, die beflippert wurden mit zwitschernden Frequenzen. Der Dancefloor mit seinen Stahlgewittern wurde quasi eng geführt zum Teilchendetektor, in dem akustische Partikel kollidieren. Jeder der namenlosen Tracks war eine Vivisektion der Grauen Masse. Es folgten Get Down (Mego, 2000) und Get Off (Häpna, 2004). Hier ist dieser Electronica-Klassiker, den David Keenan als mit Are You Experienced vergleichbares Paradigma würdigt, erweitert mit drei Tracks von Pitas 12"-Split mit Kevin Drumm (BOXmedia, 2000).
This is one of the crucial documents of the laptop era's first phase. Even now, nine years after the original release of 'Get Out', the record stands as one of Peter Rehberg's most compelling statements - its coruscating blaze and udulating lyricism cast idelible light and colour over everything that had followed. Rehberg's second fully fledged solo album wastes no time in setting out its visionary parameters. The first 3 tracks (titled '1', '2' and '3') move in a fluid arc from abrasive, ultra-processed howls, through staccato ersatz atmospheres and into languid, melodic sweep of breathtaking sonority and beauty. The sheer redemptive grace of the crumbling swoon of '3' gains all the more impact from the stark hostility of its surroundings; Rehberg is a master of shock tactics who understands that violence alone is a limited resource. And so, like his illustrious Viennese antecedent Arnold Schoenberg, Pita moves easily from limpid, plangent tone clusters to strident lashes of dissonant sound, adding twitching, pointillist excursions and a thounsand iredescent shades of white noise along the way. Technology may have moved n since it was crafter back in 1998, but 'Get Out' remains a testament to the untrammelled potency - in the right hands - of the Apple Powerbook.
I krautrockens kanon har Popul Vuh længe haft en lidt uafklaret status. De er på den ene side altid blevet nævnt som et af de betydelige navne, imens de på den anden side aldrig er blevet udførligt afdækket og undersøgt. Det er stadig den lille kerne af centrale koryfæer som Can, Faust, Neu og Kraftwerk, der får stort set al hæder og opmærksomhed, imens beskrivelsen af en virkelig omfattende og afvekslende produktion som Popul Vuhs typisk koges ned til nogle overfladiske stilbetragtninger og en kort omtale af et par tidlige værker. Gruppen har bestemt fortjent at blive hevet frem af mølposen og blive anerkendt som en af periodens helt store, såvel som en forløber for flere af de tendenser, der dominerer i den "alternative rock" den dag i dag. Følgelig er det da også glædeligt at se en nylig udgiven 12", hvor to Popol Vuh-numre fortolkes - det vil her sige remixes - af et par nyere navne. Det ligner afgjort et skridt i den rigtige retning, et tegn på at gruppens materiale stadig opfattes som relevant og inspirerende. Det mærkværdige er så, at det lige netop er det støj-og-glitch-baserede Mego-selskab, der kaster sig over opgaven, og at remixene laves af Haswell & Hecker og Pan Sonics Mika Vainio. Deres elektroniske støjeksperimenter og abstrakte minimalisme befinder sig ret langt fra den udpræget organiske og harmoniske lyd, der var Popol Vuhs særkende.
Die Musik von POPOL VUH oder Florian Fricke, der leider 2001 starb, ist zeitlos. Ein anderes Wort würde dieser unendlich schönen Musik einfach nicht gerecht werden. POPOL VUH waren Krautrock, Vorläufer der New-Age-Musik und Wegbereiter eine spirituelle, friedlichen und allumfassenden Weltmusik. Legendär die Soundtracks zu den Werner Herzog-Filmem, die ohne diese Musik wahrscheinlich nie ihre volle Intensität erreicht hätten. (Anmerkung: Klaus Kinski hat hier im Moment überhaupt nichts verloren!) Wie schon der Titel verrät, handelt sich es bei dieser 12" nicht um Originalmaterial, sondern um zwei Remixe. Mika Vainio versucht sich an 'Nachts: Schnee' aus dem Soundtrack 'Cobra Verde' und Haswell & Hecker an 'Aguirre I' aus dem gleichnamigen Film. Im direkten Vergleich können die neuen Versionen nur verlieren, also lassen wir uns erst gar nicht auf dieses Spielchen ein und betrachten die Tracks als eigenständiges Stück Musik. Mika Vainio verläuft sich in endlosen und etwas sterilen Synthie- & Echoflächen, die langweillig und unspektakulär dahinplätshern. Haswell & Hecker haben da ein wenig mehr Mut und trauen sich, den Song komplett zu modernisieren, ohne seinen schwebenden und kraftvollen Charme zu verletzen. Insgesamt eine recht gelungene und empfehlenswerte Arbeit! (7/10)
Die Zusammenarbeiten von Klaus Kinski und Werner Herzog sind nicht erst seit gestern mehr Mythos als Film. Sich den charakteristischen Scores von Popol Vuh für zwei Remixes anzunehmen, ist daher ein sehr riskantes Unterfangen, das aber sowohl von Mika Vainio (Pan Sonic) als auch von Russell Haswell und Florian Hecker mit jeweils einem Stück sehr gut gemeistert wird. Die Nase vorn haben die Letztgenannten, die ihren Beitrag zunächst sehr flächig und majestätisch eröffnen. Sobald Haswell und Hecker jedoch das Bombastische verlassen und sich einem nackten Acid-Gewitter in Zeitlupe zuwenden, hängt pures Unheil in der Luft. Ausgerechnet in diesem Moment, in dem sich das Duo am weitesten von der musikalischen Vorgabe entfernt, entfaltet sich eine Stimmung, die dem Finale von »Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes« eine sehr schlüssige Entsprechung liefert. Man fühlt sich gelähmt und niedergeschmettert von diesen Klängen, und man braucht ein wenig Zeit, bis man den nächsten klaren Gedanken fassen kann.
The first few minutes of Aguire – The Wrath Of God are amongst the most extraordinary in cinema. It is Christmas Day 1560, and after annihilating the Incan Empire, an army of Conquistadors cross the Andes and descend through the clouds in pursuit of El Dorado, the City of Gold. Popol Vuh's extraordinarily beautiful "Aguirre I" imbues the sequence with foreboding, spirituality, and an ethnographic authenticity that is at once fake but totally convincing. Their ethereal music is a vital contrast to the tale that will unfold and is best heard in its cinematic context. Haswell & Hecker's remix, also extraordinary, has an unwelcome incision of digital din at around the four minute mark that unnecessarily echoes the eventual violence and destruction of the film. The Conquistadors' mission, if ever truly a pure evangelical sojourn, becomes engulfed in a lust for gold and fame, dehydration, cannibalism, murder, suicide, hallucination, delusions of purity, incestuous desire and madness.
It's been a real joy to see the Mego/Editions Mego empire going from strength to strength in recent months. It wasn't too long since the original Mego label lay dormant; once a colossus within the European avant-garde community and one of the key institutions in the shaping of how we define modern computer music, only to suddenly vanish. Well, the label has since been reborn and currently enjoys a blistering display of form. This mini LP underlines that perfectly, bringing together contemporary innovators Florian Hecker, Russell Haswell and Mika Vainio for a look back at the pioneering ambient works of Popol Vuh, one of the great bands of the krautrock era and regular collaborators with filmmaker Werner Herzog. Excerpts from their soundtrack to Aguirre, The Wrath Of God are used in the Haswell & Hecker re-composition featured here, which finds the synthetic choral ambience of the 1972 original respectfully warped and devoured by the advanced machinations of these two titans in the field of cutting edge electronics. Plumes of digital tone rupture the warmth and surface tension established by the source material, arcing and pitchshifting with extravagant, fluid trajectories, and ultimately casting a beautiful algorithmic scrawl over the original. Mika Vainio's reworking of 'Nachts: Schnee' is equally successful, distilling a profound, frost-coated ambience reminiscent of the auditory deep-freeze of Thomas Koner's chilliest productions. Vainio's subtle, textured modulations sculpt some sort of narrative order, but without sabotaging the overwhelming sense of stillness that presides over the composition. Two indispensable sides of bright red vinyl, all but guaranteed to bewitch any follower of experimental electronic music, both old and new. A massive recommendation.
I wasn't sure how this would play out: a remix of Popol Vuh's brilliant theme for Werner Herzog's Aguirre by Haswell & Hecker. The original is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I know, and once you've seen the film, the opening images it accompanies will stay with you forever (thank you, YouTube). Haswell & Hecker, on the other hand, are in part about ugliness. An artful ugliness, to be sure; their work deals in extreme sonics even if it's not exactly noise. To me, it seems like electronic music about electricity itself, amplifying hums and feedback and leakage and assorted grating tones to a volume that could shake a room. But they do right by Florian Fricke's original here, extending the ghostly chords of the Mellotron-like "choir organ" and having them hover in place, lying in wait for the videogame-like blasters that intrude about halfway through. The blips gradually leading back to more placid waters before erupting again in a final section that's all about disorienting contrast, making for a satisfying eight-minute journey into a very peculiar valley. The flipside of the red vinyl contains an equally good remix of the Popol Vuh's Cobra Verde theme by Pan Sonic's Mika Vainio.
Compositeur légendaire das années 70, Florian Fricke, l'âme de Popol Vuh, restere sans doute à jamais dans les espirits pour les bandes orginales réalisées pour les films de Werner Herzog, 'Aguirre' et 'Cobra Verde', épopées halluncinéesau service de la folie d'un acteur de génie: Klaus Kinski. C'est donc à traveurs des "remixes" de ces deux œuvres majeures de la musique de film que Mika Vainio d'un côté et Haswell & Hecker de l'autre ont décidé de lui rendre hommage. Evidemment, il n'est guère èvident de retrouver les orginaux, tant les relectures sont ici radicales. Ainsi, Mika Vainio, qui transforme un 'Nachts: Schnee' extrait de 'Cobra Verde' en une longue pièce ambiente et fluide, tout juste traversée de réminiscences de la musique de Popol Vuh, qui évoque souvent, dans son déroulement, le meilleur des titres de Fennesz. Plus aériens encore, Haswell & Hecker gèlent le thème d''Aguirre' pout le faire s'élever dans uns ciel chargé de nuages électroniques et de cloches. Deux superbes hommages, qui donnent de plus envie de revoir les films ausquels ils font référence.
Bandas sonoras de Popol Vuh para Werner Herzog en versiones de Mika Vainio y Haswell & Hecker. El primero hace una catedral etérea con 'Nachts: Schnee', de 'Cobra Verde' (1987), mientras que los segundos convierten 'Aguirre I' de 'Aguirre, la cólera des Dios' (1972), en nu score de ciencia-ficción apocaliptica.
On the face of it, the hardcore digitalia of Editions Mego and the Aquarian Krautrock of Popol Vuh ought to make for a pretty grisly and incongrous soundclash. However, these two tracks, both taken from Popol Vuh's soundtrack work, are surprisingly congenial. 'Nahchts: Schnee' sees Vainio reverentially unfurling their twisted, Gothic sheets of quasi-orchestral noise, restricting himself the odd, discreet digital incision. Haswell & Hecker mete out similary respectful treatment to 'Aguirre I' - using vintage digital delays and freeze effect units, they pierce the wrahful, Dark Ambient stormclouds with surgical stabs of muntant acid squiggle, lending the exercise the air of some post-apocalyptic rave. A gentle introduction this, to Mego's dungeon of delights.
Nein, '6°FSkyquake' ist kein Doom Black Metal, wie man anhand der Protagonisten womöglich erahnen kännte. Stephen O'Malley (unter anderem SunnO))), Burning Witch) und Attila Csihar (Mayhem, Plasma Pool, Anorym, Tormemtor, SunnO))) und noch viele weitere) haben für eine Installation des Künstlers Banks Violette die Audiokomposition verfasst und auch während der Austellungen präsentiert (2001); ihre Gesamtlänage beträgt über acheteinhalb Stunden. Für diese CD-Veröfftentlichung wurde ein knapp 34-minutiges Exzerpt ausgewählt, das aus einer Aufnahmesession während der Aufbauphase stammt. O'Malley regelt mit nicht enden wollenden, unterschwelligen Basistönen (Brumen, Fiepen, Rauschen et cetera) die Soundstruktur, und Attila bietet beschwörerisch siingend sein Worte dar. Ein sich merkwürdig ausbreitendes, aber nach einigen Minuten faszinierendes 'Spektakel', das bei wening Licht sein größte Wirkung entfaltet. (9,5)
Dunkle Tiefkühltruhentöne.
Parti du métal, le Californien Stephen O'Malley, membre de Sunn O))), est depuis quelques années devenu un habitué des musiques pour spectackes et installations sonores, en particulier avec le projet KTL dont il est la moitié le plus présente. C'est dans ce contexte qu'il entretient une relation créative suivie avec le sculpteur américain Banks Violette, pour qui il a réalisé diverses compositions, dont ce '6°FSkyquake' dont les bases ont été posées en 2001. Très lent et grondant, '6°FSkyquake' est le témoignage d'une pièce de plus de huit heures créée pour des systèmes mulitcanaux, et a donc dû être considérablement retravaillé pour les besoins du CD. Dominé tout entier par la voix d'Attila Csihar, qui se livre, pendant plus d'une demi-heure, à un travail oscillant entre le chant grégorien, l'incantation paienne et la glossolalie, '6°FSkyquake' se veut sans doute une expression d'un certain mysticisme catastrophiste, mais finit finalment par agacer, tant cette voix, trop forte et trop en avant, masque le détails du travail d'O'Malley, transformant ce qui aurait dû être und grande pièce d'art sonore en un cliché pour ados pseudo-satanistes. Une belle occasion manquée.
An dem, was die Herren O'Malley und Csihar auf '6°Skyquake' zu Gehör bringen, werden sich vermutlich die Geister scheiden. Eine gute halbe Stunde lang gibt's hier eine durchgängigen Pfeifton in bester frühe-Whitehouse-Tradition plus das extrem verhallte Wehklagen Csihars - und zwar ausschleßlich diese beiden Elemente. Je nach Erwartungshaltung wird man dies extrem konsequent oder extrem lanweilig finden, der Schreiber dieser Zeilen tendiert jefoch eindeutig zu ersterem. Denn eins sollte klar sein - auch wenn O'Malleys Erben bereits in den Startlöchern stehen, so ist er nach wie vor einer der ganz wenigen Akteure auf der musikalischen Bühne, denen der Spagat zwischen Festhalten am Düsterästhetik und der Suche nach frischen Ausdrucksformen gelingt - und dies sogar mit mehr als nur sporadiiscchen Augenzwinkern.
I read the text that came with the CD by O'Malley and Csihar, but I am not sure if I understand it well. There were two shows at two different galleries by american sculptor Banks Violette. The music was produced at one gallery but later on also to be heard at the other and lasted eight hours and thirty-five minutes. What is on this CD is only a small portion, with, again if understood right, tape voice material Csihar. O'Malley plays 'HP 200CD & Travis Bean / Fender Twin Reverb'. I must admit I have no idea who Csihar is or how the art of Banks Violette looks like, but this CD gives me some clue. The overtone like singing/chanting sounds very much like the voice of a man alone, a contemplative recording of solitude and despair. O'Malley creates a sonic texture of likewise sonic isolation. It's all dark and grim, as well as empty. I can imagine that this lasts eight hours and that it creates more an environment than a piece by itself. The darker undercurrents may not be spend that well on me, but every now and then a bit of depression, is nice too. (FdW)
The third release in the eMego Demand series finds label boss Peter Rehberg calling upon his KTL cohort Stephen O'Malley for a contribution. The SunnO))) and Southern Lord head boy teamed up with Hungarian vocalist & lyricist Attila Csihar as part of a soundtrack to a gallery work by sculptor Banks Violette, producing the composition 6°Fskyquake, which in total runs to a whopping eight hours and thirty-five minutes, though you'll be relieved to hear that this disc only represents a portion of that duration (only just exceeding the half-hour mark). This disc is a site recording of the installation, focusing on the idea of sound as a physical presence. This was manifested in the gallery by eighteen-inch subwoofers pumping out pressurized, oppressive sound waves while Csihar suppliedd a more human component, bolstered by occasional outbreaks of guitar erupting from the otherwise still, unwavering tonal landscape. To get the most out of this droning monolith of a piece, you'd be advised to crank the bottom end as far as possible, and as tends to be the case with O'Malley-related projects, ceremonial robes are optional but preferred for optimized listening. Limited to just 500 copies, and very highly recommended...
... Plus proche du concept initial, le Hollandais Gert-Jan Prins entasse quatorze titres en tout juste vingt-quarte minutes, et fait de 'Break Before Make' une succession de décharges courtes, ou des attaques noise côtoient de simples vrombissements, où les machines crashent comme au bon vieux temps. C'est hélas paradoxalement cette fidélité aux canons du genre qui rend 'Break Before Make' globalment assez ennuyeux, ce sentiment d'avoir déjà entendu - vécuquelques dizaines de fois et en plus intenses la moindre de ses agressions, qui paraissent, du coup, bien trop sgaes et compassées..
The Editions Mego label has a reputation for producing CDs of whiz-bang abstract electronics with a strong visceral appeal, veering towards noise but rarely forsaking structural integrity for noise's rawness and abandon. In many respects, Gert-Jan Prins' mini-album (14 tracks in 24 minutes) 'Break Before Make' seems a typical Mego release - well crafted, exciting, wide ranging in its sounds and opaque as to its intentions. What Prins may have broken, other than electronic circuits and components, isn't clear, but what he's made of the breakages is an audio collage in the musique concrete tradition, short on repose but long on invention.
Over the years Gert-Jan Prins has established himself as a solid figure in the world of improvisation. The first time I ever heard his name was in 1984 when he played drums on music by band called Y Create. Many people don't realize this, but Prins started out as a drummer. On his new CD he throws in some timpani, and even some voice, but none of that is easily be recognized. Today Prins is perhaps more regarded as a noise head, but if you listen closely to his work you will acknowledge the fact that he is a percussionist. A percussionist of broken electronics. The wires of his instruments - open boxes with the circuits exposed - are all connected and buzz, hiss and peep, while the fingers of Prins make the connections come alive. Fourteen tracks in just under twenty-five minutes. No doubt Prins has plundered his archive of recordings (both live and studio) to select tiny fragments, which he feels best represent what he stands for. Breaking down circuits, bending circuits, all in a rhythmic and noise based manner. This is the true noise and by someone who knows how to break things in order to create new things. Not a second too long, or too short. This is Prins at his best.(FdW)
Another limited edition in eMego's Demand series, this time from Dutch electronics maestro Gert-Jan Prins, who returns to the forefront of analogue noise with more experiments in customised circuitry - even throwing in some timpani, that most underused of instruments within noise music circles. With a runtime of just 24 minutes this disc certainly doesn't outstay its welcome. The glossy noise and fizz of Prins' circuit experiments is ideally suited to this sort of presentation though: it's an intense, concise outburst of ruptured electronics that sounds both primitive and timeless, cramming a wealth of ideas and modulations into short-form pieces, charged with energy and dynamism. Fans of Carlos Giffoni and his No Fun cohorts should check this out without delay: seldom do you get to hear such a finely sculpted, refined racket. Limited to just 500 copies!
Alors qu'on le croyait définitivement disparu, enterré par les nouvelles mutations de la musique électronique, voilà que le glitch ressurgit, en toute logique sur les terres autrichiennes du label qui en a assuré le développement: Mego. Evidemment, plus d'une décennie a passé depuis les premiers disques estampillés glitch, et cela se ressent sur le 'Skylla' des Viennois Silvia Fässler et Billy Roisz qui, auc côtés des craquements et bugs de machines mises à mal, vrombit de guitares sombres et d'électronique minimale (un titre comme "Broomgroom" serait ainsi l'enfant illégitime de SunnO))) et Carsten Nicolai), de platines et de drones. Renouvellement du genre plus que simple appropriation, 'Skylla' offre ainsi des pistes inédites sur lesquelles la musique électronique pourra désormais s'engagner sans crainte....
L’andamento sinusoidale di brani come Pink Umbrella o Megrim ha un ché di (para)scientifico. Embrioni sonori modificati geneticamente in un laboratorio asettico ed impersonale - un laptop - ed in seguito immersi in vasca biologica di chitarra e turntable. Così si divertono a declinare il verbo del noise Silvia Fässler e Billy Roisz, nomi storici dell’underground viennese giunti alla prima collaborazione musicale dopo anni di videoart e curatele nella capitale austriaca.
Ideas in the purest possible form: All elements are engaged in a pristine dance of abstractions.
Demand is an Editions Mego sub-label specialising in limited editions, and of its first three releases, Viennese laptoppers Silvia Fässler & Billy Roisz's 'Skylla' is preferable to Stephen O'Malley and Attila Csihars's dreary '6°F Skyquake', although it can't match Gert-Jan Prins's blistering 'Break Before Make'. Fässler is a new name, but Roisz has contributed video and sonud to electroacoustic Improv outfit Efzeg's three albums, and works with Toshimaru Nakamura in audiovisual duo AVVA-
Maybe you encountered the name Billy Roisz before? That might very well be possible, as he is part of Efzeg, the Viennese group in which he started as the man of the visuals, but also started playing music. Here, on his first release with Silvia Fässler (who has 'various curatorial roles' in the Viennese subculture', which is all the information we get thrown), Roisz plays computer and turntable, no doubt in this order, judging by the music. Fässler plays computer, electronics and guitar, also no doubt in this order. The computer seems for both the most important instrument. And this is on Editions Mego, so we are not spared for noise. Things bounce off towards all corners of the room, in a quick cut up style. Guitar and turntable are used, but merely to generate sound; the building blocks for this computerized form of noise. Eleven tracks ranging from seventeen second to eight plus minutes, this captures the feel of noise, or punk even, but with a strong sense of improvisation.
The first in Editions Mego's new limited edition series 'Demand', this release is a collaboration between Viennese artists Silvia Fässler and Billy Roisz who go head to head with their laptops blazing, summoning up the kind of digitised din that made the Mego label in its original incarnation such an important outlet for cutting edge computer music. Despite sounding challenging and very much a record of the present, there is something about the album that harks back to that old Mego roster, largely because it succeeds at being both experimental and oddly, rather fun too. After a nineteen second intro comes 'Pink Umbrella', a warm bath of interference and crackle, laced with more tangible, analogue sounding artefacts (guitar and turntable are both credited as sound sources), only for the beautiful 'Megrim' to fire up next, sounding thin and raspy, but somehow cinematic, embracing the beautiful crispness of its brittle digital sound sources. This is noise music that opts for detail and sophistication over brute force, so you won't find yourself fatigued by overblown distortion or twittering modulations. Instead, you can expect an album of adventurous, impeccably engineered sound that harkens back to a golden age of laptop music, while still thinking ahead. Very highly recommended, but limited to just 500 copies....
Siberia in drone
Drone-metal takes anotehr bloody-footed hike across a paved-over desert on 'Kalmukia'. The trio of expats from Pan sonic, Scheider TM, and Lost In Hildurness crafts parched, murmuring tones that burn leisurely into one'e subconsicous. After a weak start of flat metal riffs on "Bones In The Sand", Angel picks up tension in the title track, where brooding strings gradually collapse into digital debris. The group later recalls composer Krysztof Penderecki's darkest moments on "Effect Of Discovery". where siren-like wails mimic an auto-collision victim's numb shock. Sadly, 'Kalmukia' ends with a joyous cliché; "Aftermath: The Mutation" ascends to St. Peter's gate with jangling, shoegazer guitar riffs. It's a moment that makes one miss the nightmares.
Nouveau changement d'orientation pour Angel, le projet parallèle du Finlandais Ilpo Väisänen (Pan sonic) et de l'Allemand Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM) qui, après s'être associé sur le long terme avec la violoncelliste islandaise Hildur Gudnadottir, devenue membre à part entière du groupe, et avoir laissé ses cordes prendre le devant, décide cette fois-ci d'intégrer à 'Kalmukia' des guitares rugissantes dont émanentde s mini-riffs écrasants, guitare et violoncelle se partageant alors logiquement le premier rôle, et rivalisant de pesanteur crispante. Nettement plus en retrait, les machines se contentent d'habiller de drones leurs concurrents organiques au fil des quatre titres, des quatre mouvements de ce voyage épique et imaginaire en Kalmoukie (une république mongole perdue au sud-ouest de la Russie). Sinistre, l'arrivée cède le pas à des explorations plus profondes, avant que ne se rélèle enfin la lumière, qui nimbe "Aftermath: The Mutation" et clôt l'album et le voyage sur une note presque joyeuse. Une mutation en tous les cas magnifiquement assumée par Angel, qui prend ici une ampleur et une richesse à laquelle on ne s'attendait guère.
Lleno frio, pero abrigado por el entusiasmo caluroso de Peter Rehberg (editor) y Stephen O'Malley (illustrador). 'Kalmukia' acaba de sacar punta a las aventuras en el pais mágico de los drones de Ilpo Väisänen, Dirk Dresselhaus, ambos liberados del uniforme de trabajo (el primero con logo Pan sonic y el segundo con el de Schneider TM) bajo la bandera de Angel, un proyecto de apariciones más bien espasmódicas. La islandesa Hildur Gudnadottir (Lost In Hildurness, múm) es la clave en este giro maestro y majestuoso: su violonchelo, sereno, paciente, dilatado, encaja como anillo al dedo en las exploraciones a ratos cósmicas, otras dubitativas, pero siempre enfocadas a la recreación del drone y la experimentación meditativa de este dúo ya convertido en trio. Como obliga el género. 'Kalmukia' no sólo no teme al vacio, sino que lo explota siempre que puede, como muy bien evidencia "Bones In The Sand", que finaliza su preciosa letania a lo Earth con un fundido a negro con el silencio como un elemento más. A su brillante apertura le siguen tres cortes más al servicio del paisaje sonoro en suspensión constante.
Der Wechsel von Dirk Dresselhaus, Hildur Gudnadottir & Ilpo Väisänen von Oral, wo 2006 der Lievmitschnitt 'In Transmediale' erschienen ist, zu Mego leuchtet ein. Denn Mego ist spätestens mit KTL eine der ersten Adressen für dröhnminmalistisches Brainstoming geworden. Der Science-Fiction-Soundtrackcharakter des Angelnoise hat sich veridichtet zu einem Epos, das nicht am Kaspischen Meer zu spielen scheint, sondern out there. Auf eine, winzigen Planeten, den die Ankömmlinge wegen seiner Wüst- und Magerheit sarkastischden irdischen Namen einer Republik der einstigeb Russischen Föderation gegeben haben. Das Abenteur der Explorer beginnt mit dem Fund von 'Bones In The Sand', der Entdeckung einer Kalmukia-Kultur. Die folgende Invasion stößt auf Schierigkeiten, Tests führen zu unguten Ergebnissen, dem Alarm folgt die Katastrophe. Der Epilog heißt ominös: 'Aftermath: The Mutation'. Was im Zeitraffer nach einem SF-Plot klingt, weilt sich in Wirklichkeit wie Sanddünen. Die wüste und scheinbar leere Landschaft, die als Gitarrendrone sich von Horizont zu Horizont hinbreitet, verschluckt jedes Zeitgefühl. Das Lost-In-Hildurness-Cello bleicht im Sand wie weiß polierte Knochen, wie der Trauerrand einer abgestorbenen Zivilisation. Das Cello verstummt und der Wind spielt ein Schlagzugsolo. Mit dem Cello erwacht auch das verbogene Kalmukia wieder, wird spürbar als Verzerrung und Dissonanz. Wellen bekommen Sägenzähne oder stechen. Die ganze Landschaft beginnt wie eine gigantische Cellosaite zu surren. Als ob etwas Riesiges erwachen würde, dessen Haut zu beben anfängt. Danach ist mehr wie es war. Die Luft ist erfüllt von dongenden und scheppernden Glocken, über die Wüste rauscht eine Meeresbrandung, alles gerät in Wallung und blüht auf. Die Bewässerungsstrategen im irdischen Kalmückien waren leider keine Engel.
Angel is een tot de verbeelding sprekend trio: Ilpo Väisänen (Pan sonic), Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM) en Hildur Gudnadottir (Lost In Hildurness) die norse, weerbarstige soundscapes maken, nu en dan dooraderd met weemoedige, grijze noten. 'Bones In The Sand' had van Sunn O))) kunnen zijn, 'Aftermath' is dan weer uitgerokken, exotische ambient broeierig en mysterieus. Een geslaagde collaboratie. (svs)
As though emerging from a pirate airwave, the deep wobbly bass and stabs of twilight noise that open Kalmukia shadow the dirty, chaotic dynamism of so much present-day metal rock. It makes for a disconcerting moment, but at the very least, the rest of the album is an oftentimes disorienting, disjointed experience.
A nascondersi dietro il celestiale moniker di Angel ci sono tre vecchie conoscenze di Sonic Bang come Dirk Dresselhaus (aka Schneider TM), Hildur Gudnadottir (Lost In Hildurness) e soprattutto Ilpo Väisänen (Pan sonic). Il loro nuovo lavoro arriva su Edition Mego e mostra ancora una volta le incredibili suggestioni sonore con cui questa label austriaca ci vizia da perecchi anni: drone che si intersecano attraverso brani dilatati, elementi cristallini che giocano con stridori elettrici, visioni oscure che vengono illuminate da improvvise scintille di piatti crash ed un'aria gradevolmente onirica che riempie la sala d'ascolto. Lontani dalle proprie esperienze personali e attirati da una voazione spirituale e psichedelica, gli Angel danno, vita ad un felice progetto parallelo. 7/10
Décidément, l'époque est étrange. Même la musique électronique la plus expérimentale, autrefois si fière de ses joujoux techno, de sa radicalité et de son amour de la déconstruction, n'en finit plus d'ouvrir les fenêtres et d'étendre son champ d'action. On se demande ainsi si un bordel comme 'Kalmukia' aurait été possible ne serait-ce qu'il y a trois ou quatre ans, surtout que le line-up d'Angel comprend un sculpteur de sinus (Ilpo Väisänen de Pan sonic), un emblème indi IDM (Dirk Dresselhaus aka de Schneider TM) et une violoncelliste d'obédience neuneu (Hildur Gudnadottir, ex Mùm). 'Kalmukia' est donc un vrai fourre-tout, tendant á l'avenant des bourdons dans toutes les directions: drone blues apathique á la Earth, drone ambiant sinus mâtiné d'ouverture harmoniques orietales, drone saumâtre et stachostique, drone western solaire aguichant pour clore l'affaire. Pas mal, mais on reste un peu circonspect face à la politesse un peu convenue de l'affaire, un peu indigne de ses protagonistes.
Pan Sonic's Ilpo Väisänen is the guiding force behind Angel's Kalmukia, writing the story and scrawling the drawings that direct and accompany the album. Still, Dirk Dresselhaus (aka Schneider TM) and Lost in Hildurness' Hildur Guanadóttir are important presences, both caught up in and further articulating Väisänen's galaxy-gobbling drift. Given his interest in more conventional forms, Dresselhaus' presence is especially interesting (where are the campy Smiths covers?). Using the hiss of escaping gas and the drone of the underworld as scaffolds, Angel drag slow, melancholy threads of slide guitar along the knotty rasp of an aching cello. The results are surprisingly like the morose, deserted Americana of early Steven R. Smith, or Neil Young's Dead Man. While its emotional theatricality isn't always appealing, it's nonetheless easy to submit in the face of Kalmukia's desolate shades of grey.
Angel was originally a collaborative effort featuring Pan Sonic's Ilpo Väisänen and Schneider TM's Dirk Dresselhaus. Icelandic cellist Hildur Gudnadottir (aka Lost In Hildurness), who featured on 2006 albums from Pan Sonic and Múm, began playing with the pair in 2004, and 'Kalmukia' is Angel's second release as a trio.
William S. Burroughs målade mästerligt upp skrämmande världar med ord. I många av sina böcker löser han upp begreppen tid och rum med hjälp av död, myter, korruption, ejakulationer, insekter och främmande livsformer. Myt möter verklighet i mörka och ondsinta tillstånd utan illusioner av det goda.
At first reference, this could easily end up pegged as a Pan Sonic side project, given that Ilpo Väisänen is one of the three members of Angel, but the music itself does not paint itself in that way, and other than the use of some textural electronic elements has no auditory connection with his other band. Don't take that as a slight against this project at all, it just an entirely different animal that, unfortunately, opens with a misstep that isn't disastrous, but isn't a high point either. The remaining three quarters, however, more than make up for it.
A collaboration between Pan Sonic's Ilpo Vaisanen, Schneider TM's Dirk Dresselhaus and Hildur Gudnadottir of Lost In Hildurness, this incredible album finds the trio spinning a fine web of dark drones and digital noise oscillations in a fashion that's clearly got a lot in common with fellow Editions Mego labelmates KTL. Angel relies upon a similarly organic relationship between doomy, metallic abrasion and avant-garde minimalism, with computer manipulations weaving deathly guitar and cello textures into an eerie, dark ambient soundscape. The echo-plain slide guitar on opener 'Bones In The Sand' could have been lifted clean off Earth's Hex LP, but transcending any sense of being derivative, the piece unfurls to reveal a menacing, lyrical cello solo cutting through the tangle of distortion and sustaining noise. Befitting its confusing title, 'Kalmukia - The Discovery, Wiring, Invasion' presents an epic lurch toward atmospheric, industrial sound processing, riddled with shimmering cymbal clatter and shards of cello scrapes escaping the overwhelming factory hum. It's only once you arrive at the final piece 'Aftermath: The Mutation' that the album truly distinguishes itself from the death ambient pack: there's a brightness and effulgence of tone that's closer to the psychedelic excess of Burning Star Core, albeit with a little less dirt sucked into the recording. Another magnificent spillage of auditory dark matter from the Editions Mego camp, and a beguiling, limited package to boot. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.
Hildur Gudnadottir ist momentan sowas von angesagt. Nach ihrem Album als Lost In Hildurness auf 12 Tónar kann man auch verstehen, warum man nicht nur auf Island Schlange steht, um mit die Cellistin zusammen zu arbeiten. Nachdem sie schin 2006 mit Angel - seit 1999 das Noise-Drone-Projekt von Ilpo Väsiänen (Pan Sonic) und Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM) - auf dem Transmediale Festival in Berlin aufgetreten ist, gehört sie für das neue Album auf dem Wiener Label Mego von Peter Rehberg offenbar fest zur Mannschaft. Die Drei versetzen ihren klassisch-avantgardistischen Noise-Drone aus Gitarrensaitenschwingungen und Elektronik nun also mit einer Prise Neo-Klassik durch die tiefen Schwingungen des Cellos. Ein Monster.
Since when is Schneider TM evil? Having never experienced the Angel sound before, I saw that the German glitch-popper was a member (as his true self, Dirk Dresselhaus) and thus expected a more Mego type of twist. Then I noticed that Ilpo Väisänen from Pan Sonic was a co-founder, so I expected some harsh rhythms and pummeling slivers of glass. But wait, Hildur Guðnadóttir’s here too, and since she contributed some amazing cello drones to her collaboration with BJ Nilsen and Stilluppsteypa last year, I was confused. And when I realized Sunn O))) doomer Stephen O’Malley designed third album “Kalmukia”’s booklet, I gave up, threw out the press release and just listened to the thing.
The word 'hobby project' is a word I don't particularly like. It sounds like something is not serious or for plain fun, without too much effort. With various releases as Angel, it's probably safe to say that Angel is no longer the hobby project of Ilpo Vaisanen (from Pan Sonic), Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM) and since their last CD also Hildur Gudnadottir (Lost In Hildurness, she also plays on the latest Pan Sonic release) - it's as much a real thing as their 'main' occupations. Four lengthy cuts here of guitar, cello and loads of electronics - loads as in many, but they are not used all the time and to the same extent. The pieces are rather empty, like a dessert can be empty, yet full of sand, if you look at the detail. 'Kalmukia' seems like a concept album, with the four pieces linked together. It moves away from the previous, much louder and fuller releases. More is less it seems. The empty music is not always bright, or rather: hardly bright. This is not black but grey music - an area in between the sun doing down, or autumn changing for winter. In between space music. The music howls about like cold wind over the tundra - perhaps a better reference than a hot dessert. Cello and guitar strum about, while the electronics shiver in the background. A bit of raw and a bit quiet. Very nice, this grey and cold winter music. (FdW)
Wirklich überraschend, ANGEL hat überhaupt nichts mit PAN SONIC oder SCHNEIDER TM zu tun und hört sich auch nicht im entferntesten danach an, obwohl Ilpo Väisänen und Dirk Dresselhaus hier mitspielen, wegen der Vollständigkeit darf man auch Hildur Gudnadottir von LOST IN HILDURNESS als drittes und natürlich gleichberechtigtes Mitglied nicht vergessen. "Kalmukia" (Editions Mego/Groove Attack) ist ein auf möglichst breit angelegtes Gitarren-Drone-Album, welches mit sehr feinen Nuancen arbeitet, die sich ständig, schleichend verändern und sich dabei gegenseitig sehr viel Raum geben um ihre Wirkung und Einzigartigkeit vollkommen zu entfalten. Es fällt bei dieser Musik immer schwer, nicht die üblichen Bilder von majestätischen Landschaftsaufnahmen in Ultra-Panorama-Vision im Kopf entstehen zu lassen. - Verdammt nochmal! - Warum eigentlich nicht!? Das hier ist sehr gut gemachtes Kopfkino, Soundtrack oder meditativer Ambient. Und wesentlich schöner als das was ihr auf ihrer Myspace-Seite zu hören bekommt! (8)
Angel is Ilpo Vaisanen (Pan Sonic) Hildur Gudnadottir (Lost In Hildurness) and Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM). Ilpo and Dirk have worked and released material as Angel for a couple of years but to the best of my knowledge this is the first time they've recorded with Hildur (she also appears on the current Pan Sonic album).
Hard-headed comouter noise from avant boffin.
Altars of Science is a very messing with your head experience, it's built around a collection of accelerating, stretched, droning and bent electronic tones which Marcus Schmickler has put together in often jarring, breathless, alarming and at time almost suffocating sound collages.
Il n'y a pas de justice en ce bas monde. S'il y en avait, des artistes comme Markus Schmickler seraient reconnus à leur juste valeur, et ce n'est pas le cas. On ne peut pourtant pas reprocher à l'Allemand d'être inactif, ou de se contenter d'un domaine de création restreint puisque cela fera dix ans cette année que ce musicien, producteur et manager se démène comme un beau diable pour faire exister une musique "autre". Avec son label A-Musik, il est le premier à signer Microstoria, Holosud, FX Randomiz, Schlammpeitziger, Data Politic et Felix Kubin. En temps que musicien il se fait connaître sous différents pseudos et différents projets incluant l'ethno électronique de Wabi Sabi, la techno primitive et tribale de Pol (sans "e") ou le néo-krautrock de Pluramon qui nous intéresse ici. Sous son nom propre, il signe également Amazing Daze que nous chroniquions l'an dernier, et aujourd'hui le centrifuge Alter of Science. Vous l'avez compris, Schmickler est un artiste curieux, ouvert, hors de toute chapelles et c'est ce qui fait tout son intérêt.
Marcus Schmicklers Altars of Science består af én dvd, som indeholder to udgaver af det samme materiale; et stereomix, som kan afspilles på enhver cd-afspiller og et, med pressematerialets ord, "mind-blowing Multi Channel Mix", hvis afspilning kræver dvd-afspiller og surround-anlæg. Anmeldereksemplaret indeholder imidlertid kun stereoversionen, så det må foreløbig forblive utestet og ufortalt helt præcist hvor "mind-blowing", dette særlige Multi Channel Mix i virkeligheden er.
Quand il n'est pas occupé à ses divers projets (Pluramon, Wabi Sabi, Sator Rotas...) Marcus Schmickler sort des disques sous son propre nom. Cette année il aura sorti pas moins de trois albums. Deux sous son patronyme (Altars Of Science et Amazing Daze sur le label Häpna) et un autre sous le pseudo Pluramon (The Monstrous Surplus - Kakaoke Kalk), Marcus Schmickler se voit fardé d'une actualité des plus chargées. Pour ce disque il sera tout de même bon d'oublier purement et simplement ce qu'il a pu faire au sein de Pluramon avec The Monstrous Surplus. Avec Altars Of Science on revient dans la musique expérimentale la plus extrème et la plus tordue. En somme on se tourne vers ce à quoi Marcus Schmickler nous avait habitués pendant si longtemps. Disons simplement qu'il est le genre de personnage qui n'hésite pas à faire le grand écart quand il s'agit de création musicale. Ici tout est traité par ordinateur et tout y est affaire de distortion et de chaos aussi bruitiste qu'intuitif. La froideur assumée des réalisations cache une variété d'humeurs sonores qui apparaissent brutalement mais qui donnent un relief saisissant.
Marcus Schmickler might not have the most immediate name recognition in the crowded field of contemporary electronics composition and improvisation. Some of his collaborators – like Fennesz and Rafael Toral – are far more widely known than the Cologne musician. But Schmickler has been active as a “pop” artist (with Julee Cruise in Pluramon), as a noise assassin (with Cor Fuhler in The Flirts, among others), and as an important large group collaborator (in, e.g., MIMEO). Take his entire discography into consideration and you'll find he’s one of the few artists in this medium who has a feel for pacing, dynamics, structure and color.
L'Allemand Marcus Schmickler ressemble au prototype de « l' artiste total », doté de talents multiples et complémentaires : musicien, compositeur et producteur, aussi à l'aise dans un environnement résolument pop (à l'image de son projet Pluramon) que dans des contextes plus arides, qu'il s'agisse de musique improvisée ou de l'électronique la plus exigeante. Altars of Science appartient justement à cette dernière catégorie et porte ainsi parfaitement son titre, à croire qu'il a été conçu dans un laboratoire de physique des particules. Dans cette étude de recherche fondamentale, Schmickler s'emploie à rendre audible cet inextricable faisceau d'ondes aux fréquences multiples qui sous-tendent notre monde inter-connecté - saturé ? Cherchant désespérément à s'organiser en un mouvement d'ensemble cohérent alors qu'ils semblent prisonniers d'un univers où dominent les processus stochastiques, les flux de particules courent d'un canal à l'autre, se poursuivent, se croisent, s'entrechoquent pour finir soit par fusionner, soit par s'annihiler mutuellement. Crépitements incessants de l'inter-monde numérique dématérialisé, les ondes portant ces flots ininterrompus de données vibrent sur un rythme trépidant, exploitant au maximum la stéréoscopie. Pour jouir pleinement d'une telle dynamique brownienne (ce CD-DVD dispose à cet effet d'un mixage multi-canaux), on rêve de disposer d'un acousmonium personnel. Dans tous les cas, port de la blouse blanche obligatoire.
I am always skeptical about contemporary jacks-of-all-trades, yet there is no question that Marcus Schmickler is usually serious enough in what he does and, whenever the inspiration or the right influence calls, he's able to produce sonic materials that are worth a good attentive listen. Still, "Altars of science" is unlikely to be loved by your partner, being a computer-based composition in eight movements that sounds, well, ruthless for its large part. Working on the juxtaposition of different kinds of waves, distortion, silent intermissions and scarcely recognizable sources - even though I'd be willing to bet that human voice is there, camouflaged somewhere - Schmickler unloads a non-stop bombardment of violent discharges, threatening ellipses and howling discrepancies, reminiscent both of the pioneers of the genre and a self-destructive electronic pinball machine. It takes a while before our pleasure-seeking will accepts what's offered, and despite reiterated tries there's no chance to grant the piece a "nice" attribute. It's instead an uncompromising ode to causticity that has to be valued as an interesting experiment, and it should be approached as such. But if one's on the nervous edge of their current life, better stand clear off this stuff. The double-sided disc contains a stereo mix on the CD side, and a multi-channel version on the DVD side. More work for lawyers if played at high volume.
Concludevamo la recensione del recente album di Marcus Schmickler firmato con Hayden Chisholm definendolo un lavoro di notevole intensità, ma dall'emozione prossima alla zero. Nel caso di "Altars Of Science" si vira sul suono glaciale e tagliente della computer music e dacché di gelo si tratta le emozioni in questo caso scendono addirittura sotto lo zero. Poco da dire e poco da sentire, dunque, a meno che non possiate trovare di qualche appeal le neutre tonalità del sibilo feroce e montante che attraversa gli otto segmenti della partitura. Supponiamo che la versione multicanale, presente nella sezione DVD, contribuisca a dare peso, corpo e profondità alle acuminate traiettorie alla composizione, ma dal momento che la stessa è fruible esclusivamente con lettori 5.1, noi comuni mortali che dobbiamo accontentarci della porzione stereo non possiamo che ripagare con la stessa moneta. (5.1)
'Altars Of Science' is something entirely different - hardcore computer music, beatless, unrelenting and thoroughly alien. These eight untitled tracks are a mass of clashing, bristling sinewaves; they rise and fall with queasy logic, throwing off teeming clouds of brushed steel tension and building to frenzies of abstraction. Experienced in stereo, its deeply unsettling and obscurely invigorating, but the release also includes a 5.1 surround sound mix on DVD which must rank amongst 2007's most intense audio experiences.
I must specify before the review that, although this release is packaged as a dual disc, containing the stereo mix of the piece on one side, and a 5.1 DVD compatible surround sound mix on the other, that my copy was only of the stereo mix, so I cannot completely speak for how the surround portion is. However, given the layering and disorienting phasing and panning of channels in the stereo version, I can only imagine the surround mix is even more fascinating if you have the equipment to fully enjoy it.
One of electronic music's most versatile voices, Marcus Schmickler is able to alternate between his dream pop persona as Pluramon and cutting edge contemporary electronic composition work like this, under his own name. Schmickler's instrument-based electroacoustic works have always been among the very finest within the genre, with releases like Param and Demos (Music For Choir, Chamber Quintet and Electronic Music) finding Schmickler every bit as adept within academic circles as he is in the electronic pop elite. This latest collection of music marks Schmickler's first solely electronic album since 1998's excellent Sator Rotas, although Altars Of Science is released as a far more ambitious multichannel format, written onto an audio-only DVD, mixed in 5.1 (fortunately, for the more old-fashioned listener out there the release also comes with a CD stereo audio mix too). Fans of Russell Haswell and Florian Hecker will find Altars Of Science essential listening, with Schmickler exploring the colourful extremes of computer music with the same pioneering flair as you'd hear on that duo's Blackest Ever Black album. Schmickler's music seems to be more concerned with pitch and harmony than the more textural compositions of Haswell & Hecker, with the first piece on the disc sounding not unlike the microtonal sound worlds of Gyorgi Ligeti in its rich discord. Further in and you might find that the sixth piece sounds like a Flight Of The Bumblebee for algorithmic music, propelling a flurry of almost melodic pitches panning from channel to channel with an intensity comparable to the very noisiest emissions from the Mego stable. Schmickler seems to be a bit of a Jim O'Rourke figure: equally suited to making complex avant-garde music as he is to working within the field of pop music, and Altars Of Science certainly stands as one of the composer's most adventurous and extreme works to date. Excellent.
Neben seiner Arbeit mit Pluramon hat der in Köln lebende Marcus Schmickler diverse Bands wie Jaga Jazzist und Tape produziert sowie auch Kompositionen für chor und Orchester verfasst. Auf Editions Mego erscheint nun 'Altars Of Science' mit acht Stücken schweren Computer-Listenings. Es ist seine erste Veröffentlichung elektronischer Musik seit der Mille-Plateaux-CD 'Sator Rotas' von nunmehr neun Jahre. Schon beim Anhören des Stereo-Mixes auf der CD-Seite stellt sich der Eindruck einer akustischen Op-Art ein - Frequenzen deformieren sich, aus Hinter- werden unmerklich Vordergünde, Taumel und Orientierungslosigkeit löst das aus. Und das ganze erscheint auch nioch im 5.1-Surround-Mix auf DVD!
One of the things I like about Marcus Schmickler is his sheer variety in music styles. Wether it's rock with Pluramon, serious composing for a choir, improvisation or pure electronic works, he can do all seemingly without too much trouble. The luck of being classical trained probably. This new CD is actually a DVD: there is a portion that can be played on any audio CD player and on the DVD part the same piece for multi-channel set-up. That I don't have, so I have to do with the stereo version. Apparently it's his first electronic work since 1998, when he released 'Sator Rotas', and 'Altars Of Science' is a serious computer music work. Schmickler takes the form of 'old' serious electronic music, but then no longer analogue synthesizers or oscillators, but computerized sounds. Things pop up, take shape, disappear. Most of the times in a somewhat loud and noise based territory. We should not forget that Schmickler is also a member of Mimeo, so a bit of noise is well-spend on him. Sometimes buzzing like insects, but usually totally abstract. A strong work I think, taking this kind of music away from the acousmatic counterparts that is part of the serious work, and as such a work that truly stands out from the rest. Powerfull, at times even noise like, but moving about without staying in static territory. An example of how these things should sound for noise heads, serious composers and improvisers. Listen and learn. (FdW)
This is my first exposure to Fennesz’s earlier works and it is a little bit of a surprise. The techniques and sounds that he later developed on albums like Endless Summer and Venice have not yet appeared. Instead of the bright and shimmering music I have become so used to there is a dark and gloomy ambience. However, moments of brilliance shine through, forewarning of what was to come. Even the now uncharacteristically menacing style of Hotel Paral.lel is good in its own way and anticipates the warm, glitchy textures of later Fennesz material. The grinding rhythms of "Santora" are mildly aggressive but it is easy to see how the likes of this would get toned down and a more melodic sensibility will come through.
"F.S. Blumm Meets Luca Fadda" wird auch in zehn Jahren noch Bestand haben, wenn Axl Rose lämgst vergessen ist. Das dachte sich offentisichtlich auch Fennesz über sine Debüt "Hotel Paral.lel" von 1997, das er jetzt wieder veröffentilicht, nachdem er als Duopartner von Ryuichi Sakamoto versehentlich fast so etwas wie bekannt geworden ist. Fennesz ist der Gitarrengott der Laptop-Ambient-Polarmusikforscher und "Paral.lel" klingt wie der Heavy-Metal-Papierkorb von Brian Enos Modellflughafen. Bei aller sich selbst zerhackender Elektronik lässt uns Fennesz immer spüren, dass da, bevor die Effektsprozessoren ihren Gitarre angeschlagen wurde. Heute klingt das stellenweise wie die Frischzellenkur, welche die elektronische Musik langsam nötig hat., stellenweise aber auch nach elektronischer Steinzeit. Fennesz wollte vor zehn Jahren noch mal beweisen, dass man einen 2:23-Track mit dem idiotischen Namen "Super Feedbacker" belegen kann, wobei im Laufe dieses Stückes nur exakt vier Mal viruos an der Frequenz geschraubt wird. Sonst lässt Fennesz das Feedback Feedback sein. Klar kann man so was machen. Das muss sogar hin und wieder einmal einer machen, aber Freude kommt dabei nur an theoretisch komplizierten Stellen oder am Ende der CD auf, bei dem erfreulichen Track mit Namen "Aus". der allerdings so wohlerzogen daherkommt wie Fennesz heute noch spielt.
Fast zeitgleich veröffentlicht Editions Mego eines der Schlüsselwerke eines stilbildenden Künstlers neu, nämlich "Hotel Paral.lel" von Fennesz. Heute gehört., wirkt es wie eine Farbenpalette, aus der sich Christian Fennesz anschließend die Farbe des leisen, stilisierten Melodrams herausgepickt hat. Hätte er die Richtung eines Track wie "Fa" mit seinen Gitarrenschwämmen degegen weiter verfolgt, er wäre womöglich auch bei Shoegazing gelandet und nicht bei seinen angereichertem Desert Viewing.
Piero Scaruffi führt diese Scheibe unter seinen ’Best glitch-music albums of all times' auf Platz 6. Der Anschluss der Gitarre an die digitale Gegenwart. Weißes Rauschen auf dunklem Grund, Ambient-Rhythm'n'Noise, der Pop nicht vor dem Unendlichen zu schneiden scheint und der kaum den Beach-Boys-Fan der Plays EP (1998) oder den Sonnyboy von Endless Summer (2001) ahnen ließ. Der Gitarrenklang des Wieners ist oft mutiert oder homöopatisch verdünnt, als Verstärkerwummern oder saitige Vibration kaum noch zu ahnen, aber dennoch als handfeste Grundlage präsent und bestimmend. Dann wieder zerschneidet er ’Dheli Plaza' in zwei fransige Hälften oder durchrauscht das rhythmisch pumpende ’Fa' und durchbitzelt das monoton pochende ’Szabo'. Fennesz wechselt geschickt zwischen solchen pulsminimalistischen Mustern und Drones wie ’Uds' und ’Super Feedbacker'. Hornissiges Surren oder flatterndes Rattern wirken nachträglich wie Appetizer für den harschen Fennesz von Plus Forty Seven Degrees 56' 37" Minus Sixteen Degrees 51' 08" (1999). Der Rerelease - zum 10-jährigen - enthält als Bonus den Syntactic-7"-Track ’5' aus dem Vorjahr 1996 sowie das skurrile Video von Tina Frank/Skot zum knackig rockenden ’Aus'. [rbd BA 56]
Sebbene non possieda i caratteri del capolavoro al pari del successivo Endless Summer, l'esordio su lunga distanza di Christian Fennesz rappresenta un eccezionale esempio di intuizione compositiva e innovazione sonica. Pubblicato per la prima volta nel settembre del 1997 dalla Mego, dopo dieci anni la stessa label ci propone una versione rimasterizzata di questo preziosissimo documento sonoro, un grande esempio di interazione fra due approcci musicali. Da una parte l'uso inquieto e allucinato dei drone, un suono denso in cui muoversi con passo rallentato, mentre dall'altra il glitch, le superfici ruvide e le ritmiche irregolari. Il concetto di aleatorietà e il suo utilizzo per la creazione di musica, vengono qui filtrati da un'incredibile eterogeneità di stimoli uditivi. Quel che qui risulta già chiaro è il criterio allo stesso tempo emotivo e cerebrale che Fennesz continuerà a sviluppare (e affinare) nel corso della sua carriera, portandolo ad abbandonare il filone glitch per gettarsi in avventure ben più impegnative e deflagranti. A impreziosire questa ristampa troviamo anche le sospensioni di 5 e il video fortemente evocativo realizzato per Aus da Tina Frank. (m.ca.)
After the release of Endless Summer and Venice, Christian Fennesz seemed to be one of those artists that was name-dropped and referenced constantly as an innovator and revolutionary artist in his field. Other than some remixes, though, he pretty much disappeared until his collaborations with Ryuichi Sakamoto on last years Sala Santa Cecilia EP and this years follow-up of Cendre. In the meantime, Touch has gotten into the reissue act, first with his aforementioned Endless Summer release, and now with his debut solo album Hotel Paral.lel.
Aller guten Dinge sind bekanntlich drei und deshalb direkt noch ein Duo: Kevin Drumm & Daniel Menche. Bewaffnet mit einem Örgelchen, einer Gitarre und ein paar Tretminen zelebrieren sie ein spektakuläres Noise-Opus. Exakt dosiert werden in einer knappen halben Stunde auf "Gauntlet" alle Register dieses Genre gezogen, und sobald man sich davon erholt hat, die Stille danach verflogen ist, will man nur noch schreien: "Nochmal!!" So muss Noise klingen: kurz, knackig und knochentrocken. Bravo! Bravissimo! (8)
Avant guitarist Kevin Drumm and psycho-acoustic master Daniel Menche tell the story of Gauntlet within 28 punishing yet enthralling minutes. Such horrorshows of electricity have been unleashed by countless noiseniks who jump out of the gates at the first second. But this duo wisely hits an emotional nerve by leaking gas fumes into the room before lighting the match. A metal guitar riff first slowly arises and circles above its prey, growing in size when the volume picks up and the distortion darkens the sky. But it's Menche's signature blasts of white noise that finally sear everything during the climax, leaving nothing but silence and ash. Cameron Macdonald 7.5/10
Eine Kooperation von Portland/Oregons Daniel Menche und Chicagos Kevin Drumm lag ja schon irgendwo lange auf der Hand. Mit Gauntlet, dem Fehdenhandschuh als aufgegriffenes Battle-Thema, ist es nun soweit. Gauntlet besteht aus einem einzigen Track von 28.47 Minuten länge. Guitar & Noise, Organ & Noise sind nicht nur hier die Werkzeuge, sondern Bausteine, Konzepte, mit denen Menche und Drumm seit etwa 15 Jahren unabhängig voneinander arbeiten. Während Menche vor allem durch nicht restriktive Techniken wie gesampelte also vertonte Körperstudien aufmerksam macht, indem er das körpereigene Pulsieren des Blutes aufnimmt um dessen Flow als Rhythmusmechanik umzusetzten, verweisen die in stakkatoartige Reliefs verwandelten auralen Miniaturen in musikalisch weitest verzweigte Welten. Menche macht den Weg frei ins unkalkulierbare Experimentierfeld, ans konstruktive Generieren neuartiger Klangkluster. Irgendwo zwischen Ryoj Ikeda (Vrac), Frank Bretschneider, Fe-Mail (Blixter Toad), KK Null, John Wiese, Merzbow und Steve Reich (Drumming 1971/Clapping Music 1972) wandelt Menche seit Beginn der 90er mit einem Veröffentlichungsrhythmus von etwa 3 Alben pro Jahr. Sein Album Concussions, 2006 bei Asphodel erschienen, beinhaltet Body-Samples, und fast meint man als Hörer Zeuge eines afrikanischen Trommeltanzes zu sein, enstammte das gongartige Rumoren, das heftig prasselnde Kratzen, Klicken und Rauschen hier nicht aus einer völlig anderen (Körper-)Quelle. Drumm selbst war erst vor einigen Wochen zu Gast im Clubmaria, und hat, wie nicht anders erwartet, mit ultra-low frequentigen rumorenden Bassblasen, mit tuckernden, klackenden Beats, reduzierten, wellenförmig schwingenden Hochfrequenzen überzeugt. Gauntlet als notwendige Konklusion zu sehen wäre falsch, denn der 28-Minuten Track auf Gauntlet ist in einem Rutsch, in einer einzigen Session enstanden, und wurde später in Portland nachbearbeitet, ist also keinesfalls das Konglomerat zweier schwergewichtiger Einzeller. Gauntlet hört sich an wie das blubbernd zischende Fliessen eines Stroms aus Lava, in sekundenbruchteilen zwangselektrifiziert und zellgeschockt, sauerstoffentkernt abgepackt und verschweisst in Zellophan, schockgefrostet und siedend heiss pulsierend aufgekocht
Già sulla carta era una bella lotta. Due dei musicisti più innovativi e consepevoli delle musiche avant degli ultimi anni. Drumm alla chitarra e al noise, Menche all'organo e al noise. Una sola traccia di poco meno di mezz'ora. Il delirio parte e aumenta di volume senza che voi riusciate a rendervi conto che le orecchie inziano a sanguinarvi. Entrano percussioni tambureggianti. Entra una chitarra come un panzer. Mancano ancora diciotto minuti a finire. Pregate che la durata sia falsa e vada avanti in eterno. Entrano delay a mille. Entrano sirene della polizia. È un sabba. Poi la calma. Poi le rifrazioni, poi un trenno che corre. Cinque minuti ancora, solo cinque. Poi finisce come la morte, con l'elettroencefalogramma piatto e i becchini che scavano la fossa. Un ascolto da rendere obbligatorio come un dieta o un metadone, più volte al di, prima dei pasti. Drogati e obesi scompariranno tutti. (8)
Over their combined 20-plus years of making abstract music, Chicago's Kevin Drumm and Portland's Daniel Menche have probably heard every noise imaginable. So it's hard to fault their first-ever collaboration for rehashing sounds. Given the high level of Drumm's bracing guitar-scapes and Menche's dense aural sculptures, both have earned the right to explore well-worn techniques.That said, the one-track, 28-minute Gauntlet still stuffers from a rather deadening predictability. Drumm and Menche's main tools here-- fuzzed-out distortion, insect-like drone, and chopping pulse-- rank among noise's oldest clichés. On the one hand, it's admirable that these two would even try to find any remaining drops of pigment in those faded colors. And to their credit, Drumm and Menche get pretty far-- there's much more interesting stuff happening here than almost anyone else could muster with this material.
Dedicated noise-niks are undoubtedly familiar with Kevin Drumm and Daniel Menche, two American wunderkinds whose work extends to a time before the No Fun Festival was worthy of the New York Times Arts & Leisure section. At work in Chicago since the late 1990s, Drumm has dealt in extremes, exploring both contemplative electroacoustic compositions and punishing guitar grime (most notably on the thoroughly essential Sheer Hellish Miasma). Menche has been a Portland, Oregon mainstay since the early 1990s, with a body of work that has explored nuanced applications of noise aesthetics through percussive blasts and, lately, organ and trumpet works. Strange that these two have never worked together until now, for as Gauntlet (with its hilarious Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding artwork) clearly shows, these guys are undoubtedly birds of a feather.
Ever been surrounded by a swarm of green hornets? What do you think is more dangerous; their poison sting or their hypnotic hum? Here you get an idea of their deep droning paralysing hum. You will become a harmless victim to this uncompromising and intense buzz saw. American noise pioneers Kevin Drumm and Daniel Menche work together on this great new release creating harsh penetrating sonic sounds with guitar and organ.
Mego has always been one of the primary places to find genuinely abrasive noise, and now in its phoenix-like re-incarnation as Editions Mego we find two of the genre's most respected producers going head to head in creating something that's a little less menacing than you might expect. Adorned with cover art no doubt intended to throw you off the scent (teenage ice skaters by the looks of it, a far cry from 'Satanstornade' is it not) 'Gauntlet' is a single track produced with prolific Portlander Menche on 'organ and noise' and his foil Drumm on 'guitar and noise'. Drumm has spent some time now perfecting his signature tabletop guitar abuse and that has never been more evident than now with fuzzed out guitar lines forging the backbone of the album's opening act. Eventually the plucked arpeggio (which could easily be the opening riff of some 90s metal hit or other...) gets swallowed into the mire of white noise and bending fuzz - something which whether they like it or not reminds me more of My Bloody Valentine than Merzbow. It's no bad thing either and the dense fog of harmonic noise is soon violated by Menche's effected organ, which is expertly mixed to disorientate headphone listeners until an abrupt noisy epiphany is reached at around eleven minutes in, which grows into a soup of electronic dissonance and fractured pink noise. Eventually the noise drops away like an avalanche to reveal Menche's droning organ which carries us mournfully into the piercing final act. What could easily have been an ear pummelling assault into the extremities of aural punishment (for that escapade you should really check Drumm's 'Sheer Hellish Miasma', also on eMego) actually turns out to be a genuinely enjoyable experience, and connoisseurs of the guitar noise genre (Skullflower etc) should find much to bury their heads into here, it's certainly something that's not going to be far from my cd player any time soon. Huge recommendation.
Theoretically, a drone is anti-narrative. It’s about sustainability, repetition, harmonic stagnancy — all elements that ensure any musical narrative is, at best, implied or imposed. But while understanding the distinction between listening to something as opposed to for something aids in appreciation of these non-narratives, drones in practice — at least the modern, ’experimental’ kind influenced by noise, modern classical, metal, etc. — always have a beginning and an end; the medium ensures this. Consequently, what theoretically began as an anti-narrative becomes an implied one, and critiques are then usually based on such interpretations (e.g. "the drone creeps up from behind and suddenly slits your throat 7-minutes in"). But in a style of music already overflowing with like-minded practitioners, interpretations only serve to underscore our desire to "figure out" the music, while the more compelling significance of drone is not how it’s told, but why it’s told.
The connoisseur of experimental music knows that every authentic piece of experimental music carries with it the very real possibility of failure. Every composition committed to tape and every subsequent drop of the needle to the spindle pertains to a gamble on the part of the listener who has chosen to devote his time and money to artists who decided to try something new.
This is a risky predicament for those with little or no disposable income. The documentation of the experiment itself does not guarantee a lack of casual misfires, as can be witnessed by the thousands of dust-collecting releases put out on tiny labels every year. In this harsh world of hopelessly prolific and occasionally dazzling artists, one can only be comforted, as he or she makes the plunge into the unknown world of abstract art, by the fact that whatsoever does not blow their minds at least affords them a chance to participate in something positively unique and special. This is why this particular field of artistry is so well-suited to collaborations. Like the superhero team-ups of the Gen X comics avalanche, the results of collaborations rarely produce a synergy that excels beyond the output of each individual contributer. When it does though, the knowing listeners will be holding onto their socks so as to not have them blown off.
Daniel Menche is one of the most prolific and diverse noise artists currently active in the United States. Never being one to stick with a single theme or style, he has always been apt to try new instrumentation or approaches, and the output can either be scorchingly violent explosions, or subtle, meditative works. Kevin Drumm may not be quite as notorious, but has been steadily carving out his own niche in avant and improvisational circles, often based around his unique playing style on tabletop guitar. So the concept of these two working together is a daunting, yet satisfying one.
Good to see that Messrs. Stephen O’Malley and Peter Renberg’s KTL has even surpassed its superb debut with KTL2. Released on Editions Mego, this new album commences with what sounds like a dwarf in a tiny space-copter buzzing around in the mind of QE2-period Thighpaulsandra, all zoned-out Kurweil synthesizers and Cretan Antron-sized reverb. Walls of distant apocalyptic guitars, a rollercoaster-rink string section in there from time to time (especially on the 27-minute whale hunt of ‘Theme’), robot heartbeats and then total stasis. Heck, this all conspires to create something vast; vast in the same manner that Mickael Checkhalin was summoning forth during his 12LP mega-release back in the late ‘80s (all you Audion fans, imagine the harsh tinnitus of CONCERTO GROSSE-gone-furious-drone). This killer is available on Editions Mego, and can be accessed via ideologic.org
Stephen O'Malley and Peter Rehberg arrive at the second chapter of their collaboration with a bang, "2" being a massive powerpunch of a record still reserving long moments of dazed bliss in a "soft-hard-hard-soft" succession of four lengthy tracks - "Game", "Theme", "Abattoir" and "Snow 2" - for a total of about 72 minutes, part of which were also used as soundtrack for "Kindertotenlieder", a theatre piece by Gisele Vienne and Dennis Cooper. The couple manipulated digital and tube oscillators, strings, effects, amps and drives to lead the audience through ambiences and atmospheres that range from subsonic drones and ghostly intuitions to the crescendos of distorted maelstrom typical of the central and longest sections of the CD, elongated melodies of superimposed saturated guitars gradually becoming hymns to shattered woofers (be careful: some of this stuff will have your roof quaking if played over a certain level). Despite the devastation brought by this huge wall of sound, the whole remains somehow suspended, like the wait for a ray of sun coming back after a violent storm. One can almost imagine the alternance between static poses and explosive movement in a virtual choreography to accompany the consecutive scenarios, and the slow arpeggio that lulls the music into its natural decay in the final "Snow 2" lets us return to a starting point of conscious perception of danger, a threatening excitement that never annoys. Birchville Cat Motel's fans could be interested - a lot.
Like the eerie draft under an old door, KTL's second effort comes to life with a slow humming whistle. A truly desolate and despairing sound space, 2 is at its core a record of textural engagement. Whilst the drones might permeate and caress much of the audio space in the mix, it's the smaller details and eruptions that lend this record its real character.
Tempo fa si discuteva su Stephen O'Malley, chiedendosi se avesse, per dirla teneramente, rotto le scatole o meno, uscendosene con praticamente qualsiasi idea gli passasse per la testa e costruendoci sopra miriadi di release in formati più o meno originali e ricercati. A me ascoltando l'ultimo dei Sunn mi verrebbe pure da dire no, non ha rotto le scatole, fa sempre piacere un po' di estremismo ormai sì, di maniera, ma ben congegnato. Ascoltando l'ultima collaborazione con i Boris un po' di dubbi li avrei, ma sempre pronto a liquidare tutto con l'oditatissima parola "divertissement". Approfondendo l'ascolto di KTL parte prima e seconda, quella che si tratta qui nello specifico, non riesco ad esimermi dal dire basta, fermatelo, o perlomeno non dategli corda e lasciate che si adagi nell'eccesiva produttività tipica di una certa scena noise e sperimentale rivolta a una cinquantina di malati in tutto il globo e niente più. Non c'è organicità, non c'è compattezza, si scivola senza troppa tensione in mezz'ora di Pita rumoristico e riverberato per poi trovarsi di fronte una "Abattoir" che potrebbe tranquillamente venir fuori dagli scarti di 'Black One' (ed è tutto un dire) a parte un paio di incursioni effettistiche finali - carina, per carità, sarò pure uno di quei cinquanta malati che nell'ambient minimale e deviato ci sguazzano con piacere, ma da qui a strapparsi i capelli ce ne passa. Buono il finale con "Snow 2", forse l'unica traccia a raggiungere un equilibrio bilanciato ed effettivamente atmosferico tra le possibilità sonore dei due protagonisti: a voi stabilire se per una ventina di minuti carini valga la pena spenderne quasi ottanta di iMac feedback powered by un Peter Rehberg non troppo ispirato. Ed ora è necessaria una precisazione, per molti probabilmente ovvia, ma dovuta: quando i due compagnucci di rumorismo sono venuti a Dissonanze io ero sulle poltrone delle prime file totalmente dissolto e stordito dalla statica e ritorta violenza del loro show - forse sbaglio sperando che l'emozione e lo straniamento evocata dal vivo possa essere racchiusa in un qualsiasi supporto concreto. Forse KTL come e più di Sunn e molti altri suoi lavori è un'entità che ha poco senso ascoltata in cuffia, distrattamente; forse Stephen O'Malley non ha del tutto rotto le scatole e va assimilato nelle dosi e soprattutto nelle modalità giuste, in questo caso dal vivo e con un'amplificazione adeguata (e magari una poltrona comoda).
D'un duo d'acteurs aussi passionnants que Stephen O'Malley (Sunno))), Khanate) et Peter Rehberg (Pita, Fenn O'Berg, fondateur du label Mego), nous ne pouvions décemment attendre une production ambient lambda. Seconde de leurs collaborations, ce bien nommé 2 s'inscrit dans la droite lignée de l'album éponyme, bande musicale du spectacle de danse « Kindertotenlieder » (signé Gisele Vienne & Dennis Cooper) présenté à Brest en mars 2007. Vous le devinez sans doute, ce second effort n'est en rien le réconfort sonore que recherchent les néo-ruraux connaissant leur Cali par c¦ur. Empoisonnantes et suffocantes, les atmosphères de la plus épaisse noirceur concoctées par O'Malley et Rehberg compactent les membres, torturent les méninges et broient les poumons. A l'image des vingt-sept minutes de "Theme" - démentielle salle de torture à la John Zorn entre piste d'aéroport engorgée et complexe sidérurgique hurlant - la vindicte rageuse du duo américano-autrichien déchaîne des drones doom metal à faire passer l'écoute des Japonais de Boris pour la pop fleur bleue Camera Obscura et la lecture de la glaçante Elfride Jelinek pour un aimable divertissement dominical. Et vous aurez beau nous taxer de masochistes, à Octopus nous adorons.
Unheimlich wie das Schnurren eines schlafenden Tages in eigentümlich feuchter Verlieslandschaft beginnt das Update der letzjährigen Kindertotenlieder. Die Zeit dehnt sich ins endlose und nach vereinzeltem Frösteln angesichts einer sich breitmachenden Lethargie künden schließlich doch noch Schläge einer Bassdrum von Leben. Aus ihnen gebiert sich allmählich ein winterlich verquirltes elektronischs Etwas, das einen gleich wieder in Richtung Erstarrung weist, sodass man sich wie das Kaninchen vor der Schlange fühlt. Shit! Was geht dann da? Im großen Ganzen das Gleiche wie ber der ersten Folge: eine sich zu einem Bewusstseinzustand verdichtende Soundscape, aus der es kein Entrinen gibt. Großartig - und glücklicherweise Ende August auch zweimal in Berlin und im November in Leipzig als Teil der Aufführung zu sehen, für die die Musik eigentlich konzipiert wurde.
Hvor længe kan man egentlig holde droner med et minimum af udvikling interessante? Hvor længe kan man holde den samme tone uden at kede lytteren? Hvor længe kan man lave minimale variationer af den samme tone? Eller overhovedet ikke variere den overhovedet? Hvor længe kan man blive ved? Hvor lang tid går der, før lytteren keder sig? Hvor længe kan jeg blive ved med at stille spørgsmål uden at kede læseren? Det sidste har jeg ikke noget svar på, men svaret på de første lyder: Ca. 20 minutter. KTL forsøger sig med 27 minutter på deres andet album, der praktisk nok kaldes 2.
KTL is a unit made up of Peter Rehberg and Stephen O'Malley, artists otherwise known as Pita and ½ of Sunn 0))), respectively. KTL 2 is the second volume of incidental music to emerge from their work for Kindertotenlieder, the fourth collaboration between American writer Dennis Cooper and French director/choreographer Gisele Vienne. KTL 2 not only proves that they exist as something more than a mutation of that play; though released a mere seven months after the first album, KTL 2 finds these two settling on a common language, one that both fleshes out the play’s narrative and creates a space entirely its own. These four tracks – all of which surpass the 10-minute mark, with “Theme” clocking in at an intense 27 minutes – have little to do with the Gustav Mahler song cycle from which the play takes its name. Kindertotenlieder translates as songs on the death of children, which happens to be as apt a thematic description of Cooper's work as one could hope. Not only are the male characters in his best-known work, the five-novel George Miles Cycle, all based on the deceased high school friend and former lover who gives the Cycle its name, the narrative structure of the novels themselves emulate the death at their center.
A turn up for the books, if ever there was one. Despite their debut eponymous CD being long, boring, and verging on pointless, this duo of Peter Rehberg (Pita, etc.) and Stephen O’Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate, etc.) have hit back hard with the follow-up “2”. And how. The album is structured around the two colossal central tracks “Theme” and “Abattoir”, and manages a much more compelling and engaging psychedelic result than the cold. black. void. of. space. ‘dark ambience’ of its predecessor. Between them and their guitars, synthesisers, and effects, they conjure into being a monstrous, glistening beast which lumbers about with one hideous foot in a “Virgin: Selected Ambient Works” kinda place (you know, Klaus Schulze, Hawkwind, Faust), and the other in a sort of “sparkly doom drone” mode along the lines of for e.g. Hjarnidaudi, Sunroof! You know, Robert Fripp and Brian Eno fucking in The Silver Machine to the strains of a glitcho-tronica laptop orchestra rendering “Pictures At An Exhibition”; that kinda thing. Album closer “Snow 2” effects respite, tranquilising the beast in showers of sparks and arcing electrical cables, while heavenly choirs drift past at various speeds in various vectors demonstrating the Doppler Effect, angelic-styles. Glorious. 8/10
Part standalone project, part theatrical soundtrack, KTL is a drone-noise collaboration between Sunn O)))'s Stephen O'Malley and Peter Rehberg, aka Pita. Lead track 'Game' insinuates itself, its sonic weapons subtle but potent - monstrous bass so deepas to be barely audible, flickering remnants of antique circuits conversing in menacing hums. 'Theme' begins with ominoous thuds, a flagging heartbeat reverberating down empty corridors. Slowly, so slowly, a crackling, phased psychedelic progression emerges, and everythin thats not bolted down begins to levitate. There's a sweet melody in there somewhere, albeit one that's impressionistic, time-stretched and distorted beyond all reason. The similarly delirious 'Abbatoir', named after one of the suitably atmospheric venues where 2 was recorded, drifts by as toxic cloud of guitar fuzz, its string-bent howls recalling the lowing and death-cries of cattle. Not exactly a beer-chugging partybanger then... Impressive, totally absorbing and cerebral cosmic drone.
KTL c'est Stephen O'MALLEY et PETER REHBERG qu'on a déjà rencontrés dans de multiples projets d'obédience électronique (FENNOBERG avec O'ROURKE & FENNESZ, lui fait le BERG...). Ce disque ci a été enregistré entre ANGERS et BREST, si si, entre le studio ABATTOIR à angers et le fameux manoir du festival astropolis (KEROUAL) à BREST. Et putain, là, j'ai pris ma claque. KTL, c'est du crescendo, de la vague et du torturé comme il faut. Ca part de rien, puis viennent les coups de semonces, lourds, loin et profonds, les éclairs, et c'est la tempête, « theme » (de 27 minutes) est magnifique, j'imagine çà sur sono, très fort, et je ne sais plus où je suis. C'est noir, sombre, très ferraille et rouille, de l'ambient qui n'en est pas, oui c'est construit, ca emporte, ca vogue dans tout les sens, tu te prends des vagues et tu les oublies, tu rames, tu rames, mais tu t'en sors. Ca m'a fait penser à cette sensation que j'ai eu en voyant TONY CONRAD la première fois. C'est cette même peur du vide que j'ai ressenti ici. Je n'ai franchement qu'un seul regret, c'est de ne pas avoir vu çà en live. Superbement beau.
As time of day once morphed Jekyll into Hyde, so does volume-both the measure of sound level and the expanse of space-transform even the remotely uplifting noises and senses on the second KTL release into impressively oppressive work. The four tracks on KTL 2 continue a collaboration between Sunn O)))'s Stephen O'Malley and Editions Mego leader and glitch pioneer Peter (Pita) Rehberg, incorporating more elements from their score to the recent Gis?le Vienne/Dennis Cooper theater piece Kindertotenlieder ("Dead Child Songs"). Most of the instrumentation here never really points to Rehberg's electronic presence; "Snow 2" seems to hold the only true evidence of his microsound, the scratchy backgrounds obviously made up of infinitesimal parts. This album otherwise carries O'Malley's indelible thumb, nay, boot print. The truest test of aural stamina is "Theme," as symphonic organ-like chatter (maybe constructed by O'Malley, maybe modified by Rehberg) that would be vaguely positive at normal volume turns into a swarm of sonic locusts for the better part of twenty-seven minutes, buzzing over an off-time beat that attempts to eat its own tail and implode into pure atmosphere. Beyond that it's all endless loops and runout grooves, hints of melody cutting out halfway through "Abattoir" only to build back up from scratch, strings effected into growling and wailing on the shockingly accessible "Game." Akin to experiencing Wagner's Ring Cycle without, say, The Met's attendant onstage wizardry, removed from its original production context KTL 2 becomes that much tougher a listen-not that anything involving the Sunn O))) brand of black metal would ever be easy, of course. (AB)
Enorme Schubkraft und Melodienseligkeit, wer hätte Zweiteres gedacht bei einer Produktion, an der Peter Rehberg die Hälfte des Duos KTL einnimmt, zusammen mit Stephen O'Malley. In "Theme" werden Gitarrensounds zu einem ekstatischen Wall-of-Sound geschichtet. Und dass Glenn Branca nicht unbedingt eine Armada an E-Gitarristen bräuchte, zeigt sich im psychedeliaschwangeren "Abattoir". Tatsächlich: KTL kriegen es irgendwie hin wie Glenn Branca zu klingen. Mit massiven Gitarrenlayers am Laptop. Ich stellte mir immer schon vor, dies müsse auch so funktionieren! Da fehlte nur noch, diese teils mehr als 20 Minuten dauernde Schwälle durch eine mächtige PA zu schicken. Ob dann wohl dieses dank mehr als dutzendfach geschlagener E-Gitarrenakkorde (bei Branca) unerreichte Obertonklingeln auch auftauchen würde?
Langsam, aber sicher sollte man sich vielleicht Sorgen um den Gesundheitszustand von Stephen O'Malley machen. Die Geschwingdigkeit, mit der er neues Material produziert, Fremdmaterial veredelt oder Coverartwork erstellt, kann auf Dauer doch nicht gesundheitsfördernd sein. Das gemeinsame Album mit Peter Rehberg unter dem Namen KTL liegt noch nicht lange zurück, trotzdem gibt's hier und jetzt bereits Nachschlag in Form von je zwei langen (plus/minus zehn Minuten) und zwei ultralangen (plus/minus 27 Minuten) Tracks. Erneut geht's hinunter an Orte, an denen schon lange Zeit kein Licht mehr geschienen hat. Es grollt und dröhnt, und langsam verdichtet sich der Klang mehr und mehr zu infernalischen Sirren und Pfeifen. In 'Abattoir' (dreimal darf man raten, zu welchen Zwecken das Studiogebäude urpsrunglich erbaut wurde) dürfen die Gitarren dann sogar als solche erkennbar sein, und die Trennwand zu Sunn O)) wird hier bereits sehr dünn. Ernsthaft stören dürfte dies jedoch wohl niemanden. (8,5)
A mere six months after issuing their first collaborative session, drone-metal innovator Stephen O’Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate) and laptop-brandishing mischief-maker Peter Rehberg return for a second round of Coil-gone-Cronenberg soundscaping. Like the first KTL album, 2 is comprised of lengthy pieces that reward only the most patient of listeners. In fact, this collection drifts along even more slowly than its predecessor. “Game” and “Snow 2” creak and pulsate at barely audible frequencies, while “Abbatoir” builds deliberately to an opaque roar. “Theme” is a departure, and it’s also the best cut from either of the duo’s albums. Here, about seven different layers of oscillating strings and keyboards swell into a rhythmic, melodic fanfare that sounds like a Seefeel 12-inch playing at 16 rpm. Who said hastily released sequels always suck?
It takes a monumental amount of tolerance and fortitude to appreciate an album like KTL’s sophomore release, KTL 2. This second collaboration between Austrian sound designer Peter Rehberg and doom/sludge mainstay Stephen O’Malley again proves the duo to be reliable and inventive purveyors of monolithic drones and uniquely forbidding sonic tapestries. In keeping with what O’Malley describes as his DABM (Digital Analogue Black Metal) manifesto, his compositions with Rehberg as KTL serve as a sort of black metal derivative whereby elements of black metal (notably, atmosphere, tempo, tone, and melody) are synthesized and drawn out to form a foundation for these four lengthy drone-based pieces. The recording, in toto, clocks in at over 70 minutes.
L'exorciste 2 KTL 2, soit la réunion pour un nouvel épisode de Pita (aka Peter Rehberg) et Stephen O'Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate), c'est un peu L'Exorciste 2 en effet, en même temps que La Chute de la Maison Usher, Le Retour de la Momie, La Nuit des Morts Vivants et la fin d'Apocalypse Now (souvenez-vous des derniers mots de Marlon Brando : "l'horreur, l'horreur...") réunis sur un seul disque. C'est même pire que ça, puisqu'il s'agit en fait de la séquelle de KTL 1, un disque qui avait initialement servi d'illustration à Kindertotenlieder (d'où l'abréviation "KTL", "La chanson des enfants morts" en VF) une pièce de théâtre co-signée par le sulfureux Dennis Cooper et la chorégraphe/scénographe Gisèle Vienne. De fait Vienne et Cooper n'en sont pas à leur première frasque puisque leur collaboration date de 2001, époque où la française montait Showroom Dummies, étonnant spectacle pour marionnettes (mannequins pour être exact, un terme qui correspond mieux à ces personnages troublants de réalisme) et danseurs, d'une indicible étrangeté, le domaine de prédilection de la chorégraphe il est vrai.
The second effort from Peter Rehberg and Stephen O’Malley has a taste for trickery and perversity. Tentative probing about heavily gated surges of amp noise and spectral hiss make up album opener, ‘Game’, conveying a concern for broad brushstrokes. Yet this gaping chasm, like a subtle fragrance, serves to merely draw one into the game at hand. After swaying through woozy spartan chords and booming electronic swells, extended arpeggiations multiply incrementally in density and Rehberg’s razor sharp electronic scribbles become a subtly constructed corpus of sweltering energy. ‘Abattoir’ is similarly marked by an experimental barbarism, with an obsession over angles and edges, as Rehberg uses varispeed loops to enhance the muffled and claustrophobic eruptions from O’Malley’s guitar into a rabid pulse before the piece collapses in on itself.
Recorded from December 2006 to February 2007 in a former abattoir in Angers and a 16th century manor in Guilers, the second album by KTL - Peter Rehberg (Pita) plus Stephen O'Malley (Sunn O)))/Khanate) - is a series of mood manipulations. Much of 2 sounds like incidental music from a horror film, so its no surprise to learn that some of these tracks featured in Gisele Vienne and Dennis Cooper's theatre piece 'Kindertotenlieder'. KTL excel at constructing atmospheres, and the four instrumental tracks, the shortest of which clocks in at nearly 11 minutes, are all intended to be immersive.
...2 blows through genre boundaries of black metal (O'Malley's descriptor), glitch (or whatever Rehberg's Mego label is being branded as these days), and old-school isolationism into a new headspace... Stephen O'Malley, Sunn O)))'s hooded drone-master, teams up again with Peter Rehberg (aka Pita) for another go-around as KTL, tackling material from their initial sessions which produced their (also excellent) first album. 2 contains four long tracks that not so much unfold but expand, each track crafting a uniquely bleak sonic environment that is fully explored. 2 blows through genre boundaries of black metal (O'Malley's descriptor), glitch (or whatever Rehberg's Mego label is being branded as these days), and old-school isolationism into a new headspace.
Stephen O'Malley is al een hele tijd bezig om de vele verschijningsvormen van metal in extreme formats te stoppen. Daarvan getuigden in het verleden alvast projecten zoals Sunn O))), Khanate, Lotus Eaters en Ginnungagap, om maar een paar van 's mans muzikale uitlaatkleppen te noemen. En met KTL slaagt O'Malley er eveneens in om met een heel andere aanpak tot unieke resultaten te komen.
This duo of guitarist Stephen O’Malley of Sunn0))) and Viennese digital noise musician Peter Rehberg (a/k/a Pita) was born when the two scored the soundtrack to a theatrical piece by French performance artist Gisèle Vienne and American novelist Dennis Cooper. Titled 'Kindertotenlieder' (“Songs on the Death of Children”), the piece premiered this past March, but the musical project took on a life of its own. The duo’s KTL debut was a formidable marriage of heavy guitar drones and roiling, abrasive electronics. On their follow-up, O’Malley and Rehberg have upped the ante. Recorded in a 16th-century French manor house and a former abattoir, 2 begins in relative calm with the spare, fine-textured “Game,” all manipulated feedback and swirling, bell-like tones. The first funereal beats of “Theme,” however, lead to a slow, inexorable crescendo — a thunderous roar of processed organ and guitar that’s both shudderingly bleak and spine-tinglingly cathartic. The heaviest, blackest metal moment is “Abattoir,” a grinding guitar dirge. But the closer, the softly elegiac “Snow 2,” is no less ferocious in its stark beauty.
Peter Rehberg, der bisher unter dem Pseudonym Pita im Kontext experimenteller Elektronik rezipiert wurde und als Betreiber des Wiener Mego Labels (heute EditionsMego) in Erscheinung getreten ist, hat vor kurzem zusammen mit einer der prominentesten Persönlichkeiten im experimentellen Metal - Stephen O´Malley, Gitarrist bei Sunn O))) und Khanate - das Projekt KTL - Kindertotenlieder - gegründet, das auf Bitte der österreichischen Theatermacherin Gisele Vienne und des amerikanischen Dramaturgen Dennis Cooper entstanden ist. Das Duo Rehberg / O'Malley sollte die passende musikalische Untermalung für ihr Theaterstück komponieren, das ebenfalls auf den morbiden Namen Kindertotenlieder hört und eine Auseinandersetzung mit Black Metal und bildender Kunst darstellt. Dabei besteht weder eine direkte Verbindung zu den Kindertotenlieder-Gedichten von Friedrich Rückert, die er nach dem tragischen Tod zweier seiner Kinder schrieb, noch zu ihrer Vertonung durch den Komponisten Gustav Mahler. Peter Rehberg und Stephen O'Malley streben eher den Versuch an, das Vokabular extremer Computermusik mit den blasphemischen Gitarrenattacken des Black- und Doom-Metals zu amalgamieren. Während diese Arbeitsweise hauptsächlich auf ihrem Debüt KTL 1 in ihrer teuflischsten Vollendung präsentiert wurde, so zeigen sie sich auf ihrem Nachfolger KTL 2 in musikalischen Gefilden, die vorwiegend im Fokus experimenteller Elektronik stehen und nur noch über ikonographische Verweise einen direkten Kontakt zu den extremen Spielarten des Heavy Metals aufweisen. Positiv anzumerken ist, dass Stephen O'Malley seine langsamen subharmonischen Gitarrencrescendi, die sonst bei Sunn O))) von großer Wichtigkeit sind, zugunsten einer facettenreicheren Klangsprache aufgegeben hat. Virtuos raubt er seinem sechssaitigen Instrument durch geschickte Modulationen und erweiterte Spieltechniken seine eigentliche Klanglichkeit und passt es zusehends an die elektronischen Beschwörungen von Peter Rehberg an. Dieser verwebt die magischen Formeln seines Partners in eine digitale Dramaturgie aus schimmernden Drones, krachigen Walls of Sound und psychedelischen Parallelwelten.
Die Kindertotenlieder lassen sich zurückführen bis zum Jahre 1833. Der Dichter Friedrich Rückert schrieb einst unter diesem Titel 482 Gedichte, tief berührt vom dem frühen Tod zwei seiner Kinder. Bekannt wurden diese durch die Vertonung Gustavs Mahlers. KTL sind nun der allseits bekannte Stephen O'Malley von Sunn o))) und die experimental Elektro Legende und Mego-Labelchef Peter Rehberg, die zusammen den Soundtrack für ein Bühnenstück Kindertotenlieder von Gisèle Vienne und Dennis Cooper erschaffen. Der düsterere, von tiefer Trauer durchzogene Drone Sound des ersten Teils findet hier seine fulminante Fortsetzung. Pechschwarze Soundflächen, aufwühlendes Dröhnen, wogendes Auf und Ab, ein fast schon greifbarer Schrei nach dem Warum - was die beiden hier an Ton erschaffen passt zu der Thematik wie es besser kaum geht. Seine ganze Macht entfaltet dieses Werk sicher erst im Zusammenhang mit der Bühnen-Darstellung, aber auch so sind diese vier Stücke ein schwerer Broken, der sich wie ein dunkler, schwarzer Klos im Halse festsetzt. Game ist pechschwarzer Dark Ambient, düster und bedrohlich, ein wahrer Höllenritt, eine unheimliche Stimmung trotz des minimalen Mittels. Dumpfe Schläge eröffnen dann das Monumentale Theme, ehe sich über dunkles Dröhnen hinweg beide an Gitarre und Laptop zu einer gewaltigen, klirrenden und immer lauter dröhnenden Soundwand emporschwingen, massiv und schwer beeindruckend. Ansätze einer klagenden Melodie die sich unbarmherzig in den Hirnwindungen einbrennt. Auch Abattior lässt keinerlei Sonne hindurch. Der Verlust wiegt schwer, die Seele ist schwarz. Ein beeindruckender Gitarren-Drone, tief, dunkel, melancholisch. Hinzu ein ewiges industriales Gedröhne, Erinnerungen an so manche Lynch Filme werden wach. Auch hier eine sich in das Gehör bohrende dynamische Steigerung, ein beeindruckende Intensität. Soom ist in der Wahl seiner Mittel wieder etwas subtiler, aber ebenso düster, eine Art greifbare Leere, gespenstisch und eiskalt über den Rücken fahrend. KTL machen nun wirklich keine Musik für zwischendurch. Wie gesagt am beeindruckensten sicher im Zusammenhang mit der Bühnenshow, Daten der Performance kann man hier finden. Auch die ursprünglichen Kindertotenlieder sind sicher von Interesse. Und auch für sich alleine stellt dieser Tonträger ein intensives Erlebnis düsterer, schwerer und trauriger Experimental/Drone Musik dar. 8.5/10
Initially conceived as a complimentary piece for a dance performance in Brest, the initial KTL recording was the first collaboration between Peter Rehberg and Steven O’Malley. Subsequently and thankfully, the two of them continued their musical experimentation beyond the initial sessions to come up with a new long player of existential darkness, aptly titled 2. Regardless of the expectations for a second bout of collaboration between these two, 2 comes in just as the first KTL record did, defying pre-concieved ideas about the content right off the bat—despite giving listeners a concrete idea of what was to come. Where the first record left off, this record begins, but it’s easy to see what’s different with 2, mainly in it’s focus. Where KTL started off with the epic slow number “Estranged” and followed with “Forest Floor (1-4),” 2 starts with a shorter track, that is even more minimally focused and expands from there. “Game” sets the work in motion at a crawl, and gradually ushers in two monstrous pieces that would be the duo’s most accomplished works to date. Taking the role as the record’s centerpiece I would say, is “Theme,” a gradually building work that is the duo’s longest yet, clocking in at almost a half an hour. Beginning in silence, the track unhurriedly builds almost unnoticeably into a heavily layered haze of sonic macabre; heavy on Rehberg’s erratic knob-tweaking and texturing, while being shrouded by O’Malley’s penchant for dramatically effected strings noise. For a solid 18 minutes or so the track is relentless in drive to come to an abrupt calm in time for “Abattoir,” the other epic piece on 2. Much more reserved but equally as driven, “Abattoir” presents the closest elements to O’Malley’s signature black-doom sounds as the record will yield. But rather than the crushing (s)low-end, the track leans closer to the antithesis of doom, with a higher pitched demeanor in similar presentation, echoing some of the more shrill moments of the ‘Forest Floor” parts from KTL. Despite the apparent difference, “Abattoir” will more than likely be the favored by Sunn O))) fans who dare to delve into the KTL material. The final elements of 2 are much more introspective ones, as the record closes with “Snow 2,” which reprises the closing track of the same name on KTL. Similar in their respective “quieter” natures when compared to the rest of their respective recordings, “Snow 2” is quite separate in direction, which sees it trading much of Rehberg’s noisier elements for ones of equal candor in a minimal sense; with what I’ll believe to be O’Malley providing a rather musical ending of reverb heavy guitar picks. It’s gothic, sparse and cold, but a brilliant way to end such an audio-portrait of dismay and darkness. On the whole, 2 is easily more accessible and on a more personal level than it’s predecessor. It’s easy to see how Rehberg and O’Malley put such a piece together given their previous framework, but they really blow expectations away with the reserved nature of what’s here, and by not re-creating their first record. This is a must-have for fans of dark ambient noise recordings, and one of the best records of 2007 thus far.
Sunn O)))'s Stephen O'Malley and Editions Mego proprietor Peter "Pita" Rehberg began their work as KTL to score Gisele Vienne and Closer and Frisk author Dennis Cooper's theater piece Kindertotenlieder. Pulled from the same sessions that yielded last year's self-titled full-length, 2 emerges not as a simple sequel, but as a whole new beast. Given that both albums were culled from the same time and place, it would be easy to suggest that these records are of an indistinguishable piece. But whereas the first disc reveled in pitting Rehberg's digital grind against O'Malley's black metal atmospherics, 2 sneaks in enough variations in form to distinguish it as more than just a simplistic continuation or a collection of cutting room floor outtakes.
The return of KTL! Maybe our favorite of the many satellites circling the Sunn 0))). One half of that dynamic doomdrone duo, Stephen O'Malley, hooked up with Austrian noisemaker Peter Rehberg (aka Pita) a year or two back, and the result was the godlike s/t debut, the soundtrack to a performance art piece (of which this also contains elements), which we can only assume was dark and creepy, considering the music on that disc was a black hole slab of expansive subterranean drones and damaged digital buzz. KTL managed to create an intense chunk of dark art, in the midst of a million bedroom drones, so while we played that disc to death, we secretly hoped it wouldn't be the last we'd hear from these two.
KTL is the continuing collaboration between Stephen O’Malley (of Sunn O))) and Southern Lord fame) and Peter Rehberg, who is behind digital noise project Pita and the inimitable Austrian label Mego. These two juggernauts of white noise and black drone first came together as KTL to soundtrack a piece of French theatre by Gisele Vienne and novelist Dennis Cooper, and the sessions proved so fruitful that they ended up with at least two albums worth of material. 2 is closer to the lulling drones of Sunn 0))) than it is to the high-frequency digital noise of Pita, though those do filter in to devastating effect as well. Whereas 1 suffered from too many cooks in the kitchen, 2 sounds more refined, as if O’Malley and Rehberg had set aside their usual work methods and decided to make recordings that would transcend the sum of their parts. Both of these musicians have a signature sound and a core cult of fans, but on 1 they sounded as if they were holding back or, alternately, making as much noise fuckery as possible. Not so in this second instalment. Delivered over four tracks — the shortest is nearly 11 minutes, the longest over 27 —2 takes its time to build from dungeon-like doom toward mesmerising yet horrific conclusions. I can’t imagine the reactions of theatregoers to this material (my guess is more than a few clenched their teeth), but it’s safe to say that fans of O’Malley’s will rank this amongst his better outings of the last two years, and fans of Rehberg can listen to this one without earplugs.
Like its predecessor, 2 is based on elements that Stephen O'Malley (Sunn O)))) and Peter Rehberg (Pita) created as a score to the Kindertotenlieder theater piece by Gisele Vienne and Dennis Cooper, but stands on its own as a coherent work. The disc does not represent a new piece as much as a companion piece to the first, based on the same recording sessions from 2006-2007.
KTL are the duo of Stephen O'Malley from Sunn O))) and Pita Rehberg, back with a second full-length release called simply 2 (EDITIONS MEGO 085). Haven't even heard their first CD yet, but I'm very much looking forward to exploring their joint sound-worlds, which promise to be a fascinating and rich combination of electronic gutter-mulch and lava-black feedback manipulation, executed with all the acuity and sharp edges you would expect from Pita's no-prisoners approach to manipulating digital sound-files and O'Malley's determined yet clear-headed attempts to lose himself and drug the entire world in a thick ocean of heavy syrup subsonics. Additionally, the packaging of this one displays all the hallmarks of Stephen's unique approach to graphic design, what with the found graphics, overlays, gold inks, and treated photographs, all resonating together in your mental-mush to produce suggestive connections of doom and foreboding. Parts of this music have already been deployed in a theatre piece Kindertotenlieder (which I think translates as children death songs) which is currently touring mainland Europe. Add to this the title of track three 'Abbatoir' and methinks we might be in for a grisly blood-soaked sonic trip with this one. Bring your own band-aids.
I don’t think I need to reiterate just how good last year’s debut album from KTL was… the review speaks volumes and it’s an album that has matured like a fine wine, getting deeper, darker and more destructive with each subsequent listen. The grim partnership of dark lord of doom Steven O’Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate etc) and laptop-noise pioneer Peter Rehberg (Pita) has proved to be, in my opinion, the most successful collaboration from either camp and their second chapter ‘2’ manages to better even the blackened hollow expanses of their debut. Once again taking well-carved segments of black metal, drone, noise and ambient music as their starting point the duo recorded the album in an ancient French mansion (known as Studio Abattoir to you and me) over winter and as you can imagine the results are something akin to being isolated and abused by troubled spirits in a cold, damp bunker, somewhere in Eastern Europe. Interestingly though, O’Malley and Rehberg have discovered that life ain’t all about doom and gloom, and emerging like a crack of light through a cloud of darkness comes a faint glimmer of beauty. Take ‘Theme’ for example, the album’s second epic piece (weighing in at a shocking twenty-seven minutes in length) which while being at all times mercilessly ‘black’ is also somehow triumphant. Processed organ sounds shoot up to the heavens as if played by a doomed phantom trapped in a decaying church while noises echo overhead and a solemn kick drum marches below. This might be inherently dark music but there is a sense of hope somewhere, a sense that the two overlords might be allowing some of that French countryside so seep through the cracks in the studio walls, allowing a lighter yin to their usual caliginous yang. However, this sense of hope doesn’t last – ‘Theme’ is promptly followed by the album’s most devastating moment ‘Abattoir’, a piece of doomed, rack-stretched black metal which sounds something like Burzum’s ‘Filosofem’ album played at 3rpm, or Striborg’s ‘Embittered Darkness’ being piped through satellite link from deep beneath the sea. I don’t know how many of you out there are Jean Rollin aficionados, but there’s something about this track which brings to mind the introduction from his 1979 masterpiece ‘Fascination’ (which sees two aristocratic Gallic femmes drinking wine glasses of blood in an abattoir, replete with carcasses and chains). An image which is both beautiful and deeply disturbing - it sums up perfectly the sheer addictive and sadistically tempting qualities of ‘2’ in all it’s pre-20th century glory. This is an album that will easily be slithering its way into my top ten of the year in December, I’ve had it on constant rotation for weeks now and it’s still sending me into fits of terror and amazement on every listen – if you want to know where the whole doom-drone thing is going in 2007 and beyond you’ve found the answer. Black metal has never sounded so gloriously powerful and ‘2’ is the grimmest treat you’ll exhume this year.
Era difficile dare un seguito credibile a quanto espresso nel primo, ottimo capitolo della collaborazione a due ma Stephen O'Malley e Peter Rehberg riescono nell'impresa siglando un lavoro più accessibile che sposta la prospettiva dall'assalto sensoriale all'impersione psichedelica. Ed è quasi imbarazzante, per noi, proporre nuovamente il progetto in evidenza a pochi mesi dall'esordio. per di più in due settori differenti: eppure è esattamente a metà tra 'sperimentazione wave' e 'altrisuoni' che si colloca, e lo fa con abilità rara a trovarsi in entrambi gli ambiti, in tempi cosi incerti e poveri di uscite veramente rilevanti.
Little has been heard in the way of recorded material from Philip Quehenberger since his 2002 EP debut 'QBBQ'. Rather, he's made his reputation live, and there is certainly a raw, grainy, livewire feel to this, his riotously misshapen take on dance music. On the wonderfully titled 'Wives With Knives', its as if he has strewn tons of gravel across the dancefloor and encouraged a leatherbooted clientele to kick up some dust. These are heavy, dirty, manic affairs, the like of which would be permitted in no actual club, all workaholic drum machines and ever-shifting ryhthmical mosaics. 'Far Away Places' sounds like tractor engines running on acid for fuel, and it's only with the likes of 'Varad' that Quehenberger opens the skylight and lets in some phosphorescent, atmospheric touches.
Nous vous l'accordons volontiers, les disques Editions Mego (ex-Mego) ne sont pas des plus joyeux. Définitivement pas le genre de galette que les DJ plagistes infligent aux oreilles lobotomisées des clubbers qui prennent David Guetta pour le plus grand passeur de disques de la planète, le premier album de l'Autrichien Philipp Quehenberger ne fera pas exception à la règle. Bizarrerie techno (aux relents d'electro-pop) gothique et sacrificielle, Phantom Paradise donne des envies d'égorger l'infâme Bob Sinclar, après l'avoir vu crever à petit feu sur le bûcher de ses vanités démagogiques. Tantôt purement instrumentales, tantôt accompagnées d'une voix caverneuse proche du gouffre ("Loner Goner"), les compositions au mascara du producteur viennois éclatent de leur noirceur suicidaire un dancefloor d'outre-tombe où Miss Yetti draguerait Front 242 et Vomito Negro (l'imparable "Varad"). Là où un hymne de courses de bagnoles (mais des corbillards alors) sur Xbox envoûte une troupe de spectres lunaires sous LSD ("Far Away Places"), des coups de pilon post-industriels torturent un lointain cousin de Blixa Bargeld broyé dans une centrifugeuse de fabrication berlinoise (genre Paul Kalkbrenner vs. Senking vs. les Australiens de Pimmon). Inutile de dire que si vous êtes en pleine phase schizophrène, tendance automutilation, ce disque est fait pour vous.
In eine "etwas" andere, komplett andere Richtung, aber nicht weniger großartig bewegt sich PHILIPP QUEHENBERGER. Auf dem Innefoto von "Phantom In Paradise" (Ed. Mega/Groove Attack) schaut uns der Künstler ein wenig überarbeitet, aber gleichzietig trotzig, herausfordernd an, denn er weiß genau was er da angestellt und aufgenommen hat! Die überwiegend instrumentalen Tracks hören sich an, als hätten JOY DIVISION den Soundtrack für "Plan 9 From Outer Space" geschrieben. Psychedelische und progressive Electrosounds treffen auf eine verdrehte, destruktive Grundstimmung, die immer weiter, von gradliniegen und hypnotisch-saugenden Rhythmen fast manisch voran getrieben wird. (9/10)*
Das lange warten hat sich gelohnt. Seit seiner letzten Soloveröffentilichung, der grandios scheppernden EP "QBBQ" auf Cheap Records im Jahre 2002, war Quhenberger ja hauptsächlich als legendär manischer Performer am Synthesizer bei unterschiedlichsten Gelegenheiten zu bestaumen. Das Album nun lässt sich ebenso schwer einordnen wie die Musikerpersönlichkeit Quehenberger selbst. Klar hat das mit dem Klang der frühen 90er zu tun, als das Genre Techno sein schleimbedecktes Haupt aus dem Underground erhob. Bloß geht sich jetzt zum Glück einiges mehr am Komplexität aus. Scheinbar mühelos gelingt hier ein Spagat aus straightforward, dreckig, vielschichtig und sexy. Der Sound ist klar und doch rough, es kickt, aber es ist nicht überkomprimiert, die Maschinen hämmern und doch bleibt alles organisch, nicht zuletzt dank Q's harmonischen und melodischen Fertigkeiten als Keyboarder. Und auch die Stimme (Gesang hätte ich nicht unbedingt erwartet) ist wohlüberlegt eingesetzt. Bei mehr solchen Platten bräuchte man Techno nicht jedes Jahr aufs Neue tatsagen.
La definizione che trovate in alto è della Mego, non mia. Però il disco è proprio quello che l'etichetta dice: un esempio di prog dance easy listening. Che significa? Non lo so, non lo capisco. Non capisco nemmeno il disco, a dire il vero. Sembra un'elettronica dancey bella vechiotta (diociamo anni '90) simpatica e barattolosa, ma senza brilare in ironia. Oppure una versione meno istrionica di cose alla Jason Forrest. Forrest è un grande, Quehenberger no. (5)
Knoertharde, overstuurde punktechno die de mosterd haalt bij zowel de vroege rave als bij industriele muziek. Denk aan donkere, bloedhete danskelders in het Berlijn van de nineties waar iedereen op ecstasy staat te trippen en de soundtrack een mix is van Derrick May, Nine Inch Nails en Dopplereffekt. Verdammst! (svs)
It was quite a memorable evening, somewhere in March 2004 at the Dutch Earational festival. At their night at the rock oriented club a guy played that me, perhaps an insider of sorts, never heard of: Philipp Quehenberger. He had just one 12" to his credit, for Cheap Records, from 2002. He banged away on his keyboards and sang his songs. Added with a stage dance, by a small girl with a big knife (perhaps remembered here in 'Wives With knives'?). It looked and sounded great. Still Quehenberger never released anything beyond that 12", but now here is finally his debut CD. I am playing this and thinking about that great evening. But the CD isn't as convincing. Quehenberger loves a loud, gritty sound, up tempo electro/techno rhythms and his own voice. Although the latter not as much as he should do. His music works best as a cross-over between Suicide, Mister Quintron (both on the vocal side of the music) and Pan Sonic (in terms of rhythm and noise), and it works even better when he is
singing. A slight cynical voice with lyrics that aren't easy to decipher. If Quehenberger goes instrumental he's best in bringing uptempo nasty, almost rock song like structured techno, but which not always work best when played at home. It's more like underground club music and at a much louder volume, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, this should go down rather well. Throughout a great CD. (FdW)
Ever since Mego was reborn with an ‘Editions’ before it, we’ve seen that things have been just that little bit different. Not in a bad way either – Peter Rehberg’s monster of a label has been on top form over the last year, releasing absolute stormers from KTL and Tujiko Noriko and re-issuing some of the most crucial Fennesz records in existence. This album from Cheap luminary Philipp Quehenberger, however, is possibly the oddest thing we’ve heard from the label yet. Not odd in an experimental way either you understand, it’s odd because it just doesn’t sound like a Mego release, at least at first. Place the disc in your cd player and you’ll be treated to a barrage of electro-pop beats and playful male vocals, all encased in swirling noise and underpinned by rubbery electronic bass – not the sort of thing you’d expect from the home of Hecker and Farmers Manual really is it? Well then I listened a little bit closer and realised what was at the heart of ‘Phantom in Paradise’ – this is basically EBM for a post-laptop generation, Gothic industrial music with a neon twist or new wave with a bit more new and a bit less wave. This is basically where noise music came from is it not? okay there was more to it than that, but there are links to be made, there are dots to be joined and the fact that this is a Mego release that you can actually shake your booty to shouldn’t marr your enjoyment one bit. Okay occasionally it might get a bit too much, but the fact that Philip Quehenberger has the guts to produce music this unashamedly off-kilter deserves praise alone. This is electro-pop music for test tube babies, a giant ‘f*uck you’ to the Hoxtonites proclaiming the hipster draw of ‘electro-house’, it’s mean, dirty and sometimes horrible, but it was always meant to be that way, wasn’t it?
Mit "Phantom in Paradise" beweist Philipp Quehenberger jetzt endlich auch auf CD, dass er einer der bemerkenswertesten Musiker der Stadt ist.
Initially released in 2002, Drumm’s punishing analogue drone/noise workout comes now in a newly remastered edition, with fresh artwork from lazy old Stephen O’Malley. All I can say is: thank heaven for this remaster! My previous edition CD copy of this was always drastically in need of a scrub up – all I’d been able to discern previously was acres and acres of obdurate, piledriving buzztones. At last, you can now hear Rob Thomas from Matchbox 20’s vocals in all their Midwest-bothering glory-holler. And what a difference Thomas makes to set opener ‘Impotent Hummer’. The hummer, previously so frustratingly emasculated, here becomes newly virile thanks to Thomas’s workmanlike delivery and charisma. It just does. This immediately begs the question: why don’t drone/noise artists invite mainstream pop stars to guest on their albums more often? It would certainly help sales, as well as adding vital avant garde street cred, if there’s such a thing, to the mainstream artistes’ reputations. For example, Mariah Carey’s ‘Extra Special Guest Vocal Appearance, Lambs’ on track four, ‘The Inferno’ brings a refreshing corporate bump ‘n’ grind helium sensuality to what’s otherwise a quite boring drone piece about nothing. Now it’s about Carey’s arse, and a dog, and some cars and a man she oughtn’t really to trust but still finds attractive This is far more interesting than what ‘The Inferno’ used to be: my broken juicer.
Personalmente non ho dubbi: "Sheer Hellish Miasma" è il miglior album di Kevin Drumm. Un disco nero, buio, claustofobico come la copertina che lo contiene, qui rivistata da Stephen O'Malley in maniera invero minima: il logo dal centro viene spostato a destra. e amen. La ristampa propone anche un brano in più rispetto all'edizione originale, 'Impotent Hummer', tredici minuti di autismo dark-drone. Ma poi a prendere il sopravvento è quell'indole sfasciata, tormentata, rumorissima che fa di 'Hitting The Pavement' e 'The Inferno' due capolavori assoluti del nuovo noise elettronico tutto. Già, perché se "Sheer Hellish Miasma" uscì per Mego, alla fine è quasi per caso. In fondo sarebbe stato altrattento bene nel catalogo Hanson o in quello Chondritic Sound, giusto per citare due etichette per cui effettivamente Drumm ha inciso. A cinque anni da quegli abissi, "Sheer Hellish Miasma" ancora provaca gli incubi. Ancora insegna. (8)
Mego serait-il en train de rééditer tous les classiques de son catalogue ? En effet, après Endless Summer de Christian Fennesz, voici - certes, dans un genre tout à fait différent - que le label pionnier autrichien redonne toutes ses lettres de noblesse au Sheer Hellish Miasma de Kevin Drumm. Mais, à la différence du disque précité du célèbre guitariste à loops viennois, c'est ici la pièce de maître du très démonstratif et très bruitiste musicien américain qui est ici repressé, remastérisé, re-empaqueté, re-artworké (par Stephen O'Malley de Sunno))) et ses habituelles cover black-métallisé). Etrangement d'ailleurs, l'inédit de circonstance - le dénommé "Impotent hummer", hérité des sessions de l'époque - apporte une touche drone alanguie à un ensemble essentiellement électro harsh/noise épileptique, histoire peut-être de faire un clin d'oeil à KTL, le side-project de Stephen O'Malley et Pita, le mentor de Mego. Un bonus, loin d'être négligeable, mais qui ne fera néanmoins pas oublier l'essentiel, à savoir les quatre autres pièces de ce trésor d'impulsions soniques belliqueuses, parmis lesquelles les deux morceaux épiques de, respectivement 20 et 24 minutes, "Hitting the pavement" et "The inferno". Peut-être deux des pièces du genre qui synthètisent le mieux l'abrasivité grésillante de textures noise poignantes, la dramaturgie de leur impact physique transposé dans des compositions évolutives, à la clarté magmatique diffuse, fourmillant de détails soniques et de modulations inventives et crissantes. Détaché du temps, étonnamement audibles derrière leur carapace-synthèse de matières digitales et électriques bouillonnantes, ces deux morceaux paraissent suspendus dans un nirvana inexpugnable. Le simple fait de nous rappeler au bon souvenir de leur existence vaudra toutes les bénédictions des laudateurs du genre.
"Musical influences include Iron Maiden, Raf Wehowsky and The New Blockaders", konstatiert die Wikipediaseite über den Elektroakustiker aus Chicago. Das einzige Mal, als ich ihn live erlebte, im Trio mit Paul Lovens & Axel Dörner, zeigte er sich von seiner sparsamen un leisen Seite. Daneben neigt er zu maximalistischeren Noisedrones per Gitarrenpräparation, Feedback, Analogsynthesizer und Laptop. Seine Soundclashes mit Martin Tétreault. Wehowksy, Bhob Rainey, Tagu Sugimoto, Pita, Leif Elggren & Mats Gustafsson, Lasse Marhaug (seinem Nachfolger in Vandermarks Territory Band), Fred Lonberg-Holm & Wesel Walter oder Dan Burke (von Illusion Of Safety) zeigen das Netz, in dem Drumm seine Drone- & Noise-Ästhetik einfädelt. 'Sheer Hellish Miasma' von 2002, als Rerelease mit 'Impotent Hummer' um 13 Min. erweitert, hört sich über weite Strecken and wie sich für eine lebedig Begrabenen ein Rasenmäher anhören muss, der gnadenlos zwischen den Gräbern hin und her kurvt und Grashalme metzelt und seine Hilfeschreie übertönt. Bei 'The Inferno' scheint die Noisedecke zuerst aufzureißen, nur um dann um so prasselnder und kurzwellenchaotischer zu einer schwefelsäurehaltih menschenfeindlichen Atmosphäre zu versuppen. Schwingt da Fisherman's Friend-Humor mit, vielleicht sogar ein genüsslicher Eat shit!-Sadismus?
Die aktuelle Widerveröffentlichung eines Werkes aus dem Jahr 2002 beginnt mit dem Bonustrack 'Impotent Hummer', einem gelungenen 13-minütigen Gitarrendroneparforceritt, dem die regulären vier Stücker des Albums folgen. Das war dann auch schon das Ungewöhnlichste auf 'Sheer Hellish Miasma'. In Kontrast zum Opener serviert uns der Chicagoer nun eine Melange aus Musique concrète und Noise: E-Gitarren und Tapes treffen aud analoge Synths und Laptop. Die Lautstärke der Heimanlage darf aufgedreht werden. Auf 'The Inferno' lädt der Jazz-Liebhaber seinen Kumpel Greg Kelley ein, ein paar Trompetenklänge zum Besten zu geben, welche selbstverständlich umgehend durch den elektrischen Fleischwolf gedreht werden. Zum Schluss kredenzt er mit 'Cloudy' eine ebenso kurze wie sphärische, aber auch harmlose Ambient-Nummer. Das Artwork besorgte Stephen O'Malley. Kann man haben. (8)
2000-talet har varit en god tid för noisemusiken. Liveelektronik dyker upp på festivaler lite varstans, få blir längre utom sig av lite buller och brus. Men hur många komponerade noisealbum från de senaste åren förtjänar klassikerstämpeln? På rak arm: två. Lasse Marhaugs "The Shape of Rock To Come" (Smalltown Supersound 2004). Och Kevin Drumms "Sheer Hellish Miasma", ett av de bästa exemplen på det hårfina gränsen mellan konfrontation och kontemplation.
Los subgéneros del noise electrónico y del drone basado en la manipulación de la guitarra han ganado adeptos y reputación en el último año gracias al relativo éxito de bandas como SunnO))), Wolf Eyes y Prurient. Con un nuevo artwork a cargo de Stephen O'Malley de SunnO))), la reedición de la obra cumbre de Kevin Drumm, un especialista en tender puentes entre el noise y el drone de guitarra, parece enfocada a demostrar que Mego, ahora Editions Mego, fue la responsable de dar forma a una tendencia que hace cinco años, cuando se publicó orginalmente "Sheer Hellish Miasma" (2002), no estaba tan bien vista como ahora.
Repackaged, remastered and reissued with a 13 minute bonus track, this mighty release from Kevin Drumm sees the dark of night again. The five pieces are more varied and exciting than I believed noise could be; this is no lazy DIY noise made with a handful of effects pedals plugged into each other. Drumm has molded this immense sound into such an imposing form that I do not think even an army of Merzbows could stand up to.
There are likely only two reasons for reissuing a recording. One, the recording’s initial release was in too meager a quantity to meet the initial or eventual demand; two, following years of listener and artist gestation, artist and label decide to revisit the material, repackage it, tack on a few bonus tracks, add some overblown and breathless liners, and perhaps even re-master said recording. Notorious for ludicrously low release quantities and even more ludicrous homogenization of releases, the noise community is hardly known for yielding product worthy of reconsideration. Besides Lou Reed’s genre defining fuckall, Metal Machine Music, only a handful of noise musicians have created anything deserving repeated listens, with the majority of those folks hailing from the Land of the Rising Sun. Kevin Drumm’s Sheer Hellish Miasma is easily a release that deserves and demands a second-look even if it’s still relatively green—having been released initially by Mego in 2002—and still easily obtainable with a cursory internet search.
It would be a bit of a head-scratcher as to the necessity of this re-master, were it only to feature Tina Frank's original artwork revamped by Sunn O))) dronemeister Stephen O'Malley. For it's rather unexceptional. The jet black gatefold is intact, with Drumm's intiials in golden Gothic font shifted to the top from the orginal cover's centre position. Is that it? A two-minute bungle of a job, some might say.
Kevin Drumm is sinds de jaren negentig in Chicago één van de grote spelers van de experimentele scene. Net zoals bij Ken Vandermark, waarmee Drumm eveneens samenwerkt, staan in zijn muziek vrijheid en experiment centraal, maar Drumm kiest daarbij vooral voor geluidsexperimenten waarbij hij zich van electronica, occasionele gitaren en effecten bedient, toch zeker wat zijn soloprojecten betreft.
Originally issued in 2002, Editions Mego have seen fit to re-issue this noise classic with lovely new Steven O’Malley artwork and an extra thirteen minute track (recorded at the same time as the album). It’s pretty good timing too, as noise music is finally, thanks to artists such as Wolf Eyes, Hair Police and Prurient breaking out of its cassette-based shackles into almost mainstream acceptance. Okay maybe I’m going a little overboard with that, but come on – Wolf Eyes on Sub Pop? Who would have thought that would happen, and have you been to a noise show lately? There are girls there and everything. I remember seeing Hecker on a Mego tour a few years ago and noise was strictly a bespectacled boy thing, now we’ve got all sorts lapping it up, and that can only be a good thing. Kevin Drumm started out as a guitarist, becoming an important player of prepared guitar in the Chicago scene, but quickly he began to turn his hand to radically noisier sounds, sounds which came to a head on this milestone work. Here the record opens with the ‘new’ track ‘Impotent Hummer’, which interestingly takes a notably quieter direction than much of the original album’s tracks. A drone piece fired through some kind of malfunctioning distortion pedals the most obvious comparison would be with the young Dutch upstart of harmonic noise Machinefabriek, albiet with a little more evil added for extra effect. However the album proper kicks off with ‘Turning Point’, as crushing a piece of noise as you’re likely to hear – loops of crunching guitar abuse and heavily degraded analogue synthesizer are layered on top of each other creating a truly visceral cacophonous racket. The album comes to a head with the twenty-four minute monster of a track ‘The Inferno’ (which incidentally features Boston noisy dude Greg Kelley on trumpet); a track which doesn’t so much make noise as becomes noise. This is the sort of track you need to literally give yourself to, losing control of your mind and becoming one with the pure, putrid stench of NOISE. As squealing, pulsating analogue synthesizers rise and fall over the oppressive crunch of Drumm’s guitar you are left with the metallic taste of blood in your mouth through your gritted teeth. An insanely good album and a cornerstone of the genre, it’s great to see this back on the shelves – just remember to handle with extreme caution. SICK.
The subgenres of electronic noise and guitar-based drone have gained considerable popularity over the past few years, due largely to Wolf Eyes and Sunn O))), respectively. This reissue of a 2002 CD by Kevin Drumm, whose work bridges those two styles, may be a shrewd attempt by the Austrian label Editions Mego to capitalize on the related trends. Whatever the market strategy, it’s a welcome release—Drumm’s constructions remain both mesmerizing and viscerally awesome. A bonus track, a remastering job and new artwork by Sunn O)))’s Stephen O’Malley are all just icing; the real delicacies are buzzing, glinting sound masses like “Hitting the Pavement,” during which you can practically smell your speakers frying.
Zweite Chance für Noise-Inferno Fans
Als Kevin Drumm 1994 begann, zusammen mit Ken Vandermark und Steve Butters als Band namens Signal To Noise ausführlich das Gitarrenfeedback zu testen, gab es so gut wie keine temporären vergleichbaren Bezugspunkte. Der aus Chicago stammende Improvisationsmusiker Drumm nennt als Einflüsse Iron Maiden, The New Blockaders, Tony Conrad und Hans Reichel. Sheer Hellish Miasma ist als Re-Release bereits 2001-2002 in Chicago aufgenommen worden, für die erweiterte Neuauflage wurde das Album 2006 in Köln remastered und von Stephen O'Malley neu verpackt. Sheer Hellish Miasma ist ein crazy genialer, tiefschwarzer Bastard aus treated Guitar-Noise, Tapes, Pedals und mit analogen Synthesizerschlieren gemischter Horrormovie geworden. Es hämmert, blubbert und pfeift, auf dass der Himmel herunterstürzen möge. Für den Re-Release gibt es den exklusiven Track Impotent Hummer, ein 13-Minütiges wütendes Biest. Wie bei Hair Police oder Mattew Bowers/Marcia Bassetts Hototogisu/Skullflower gelingt es Drumm, seine schleichenden Lemuren ätzend wie Arsen in den Blutkreislauf der Gesellschaft zu infiltrieren, ein starkes Statement, das frei mutierte Codes absondert, aus deren Stammzellen ein neues Frankenstein Monster entweicht, vielleicht aber auch für ein astral existierendes Wesen, das ultra-resistent und wütend für den Anbruch einer neuen Zeitrechnung stünde. pe
Tujiko Noriko's songs have an origami-like quality: cute and delicate, with a sense of flatness given shape. After hopping from label to label, and dabbling in filmmaking, she has come to Editions Mego, the reconfigured version of the Viennese label that released her gorgeous 2001 album Shojo Toshi, to put out the aptly titled Solo. Mellower than her past two Mego releases, her new record finds Noriko going it alone, contorting the level planes of pop with her mobile, avant-garde imagination.
La pop ne s'est jamais aussi bien portée que depuis qu'elle fraye ouvertement avec les musiques électroniques. Solo, le dernier album de Tujiko Noriko en est la preuve manifeste. Avec cette livraison, la révélation japonaise signe une musique apaisée mais toujours intrigante, oscillant entre pop et electronica et qui pourrait bien faire de l'ombre aux divas mégalos du panthéon électro. Björk n'a qu'à bien se tenir !
Not unlike Tujiko Noriko's collaboration with Aoki Takamasa, 'Solo' is a lush amalgamation of synth pads, off-time percussion, and Tujiko's serene vocals. But on her third full-length for Editions Mego (formerly Mego) Tujiko's experimental-pop production reaches levels of maturity yet unheard, with added layers of strings, guitars and affected noises springing up throughout. Although 'Solo' isn't necessarily an enormous departure from her prior work, tracks like 'I Love You' and 'Ending Kiss' find the veteran bellowing with the same strife as Blonde Redhead's Kazu Makino, uniquely complimenting her always-evolving and blossoming productions.
Fred Miketa
Noriko Tujiko, reprennent la voix en solo après des bébés, des films, et du silence.
Un peu trop vite appelée "La petite s¦ur de Björk", Tujiko Noriko s'était installée sur mes platines avec son deuxième album. Mi sex-symbol, mi enfant timide, elle a su se créer un univers ou l'étrange rejoint le merveilleux au son d'une electro-pop enfantine et étrange. De retour au bercail Mego après un passage chez Tomlab et de nombreuses collaborations, Tujiko arrondit les angles et se fait docile ; ses chansons sont plus accessibles et tendent vers une forme pop. Il y a sur ce nouvel album une inventivité et un aplomb rarement égalés qui passent par des arrangements travaillés, par des perturbations bien senties de ses lignes mélodiques par des bruitages (grésillements, sifflements, échos...) et, cela c'est nouveau, par une musique plus délicate, plus féminine, plus séduisante, bref plus pop. Livrée à elle-même, Tujiko reprend les choses là ou elle les avait laissées après "From Tokyo to Niagara". Elle soupire ses paroles en japonais sur des mélodies frivoles que des beats ralentis et grinçants entrainent peu à peu au milieu des glitchs qui constituent des paysages abstraits entêtants. Tujiko sait jouer des interférences statiques (qu'elle sample, répète et arrange) avec la même virtuosité qu'un musicien professionnel joue de la guitare ou du basson et ne se prive pas d'apporter de nombreuses constructions élaborées à partir de ces bruitages anodins. Le résultat est fascinant. Ses chansons sont résolument pop et immédiates dans leur séduction, mais elles recèlent en plus des structures à tiroirs qui intriguent à chaque écoute. Avec les neufs titres de "Solo", Tujiko Noriko est au sommet de son art.
Auf eine andere Art bezaubernd ist Tujiko Noriko. Auf dem nunmehrigen Label Editions Mego veröffentlicht sie eine lauschig-luftiges Album. Es tönt fernöstlicher als Bisheriges und ist eine sehr intime Angelegenheit. Und es klingt, als ob sie allein in einem Freizeitpark performt. Ihre naive Stimme ist noch wie vor Markenzeichen und auch manch niedliches Sample japanischer Quelle vestärkt den Eindruck, Tujiko Noriko habe gänzlich nach Hause gefunden. Daheim ist sie im experimentellen japanischen Pop, doch die leicht loungige Schlagseite ließen ihr die Produzenten Potuznik/Tyme angedeihen. Übrigens: Konsequenterweise sind die japanisch gesungenen Preziosen auch in Nippon-Schrift abgedruckt.
Tujiko Noriko klingt auf diesem Album eigentlich wie immer, nur besser. Der freie, elegische Halbrezitativ, in dem ihre Stimme durch lose zu musikalischen Räumen zusammenfinden Elementen schwebt, prägt auch ihre früheren Alben. Erst im letzten, längsten und spannendsten Stück ('In A Chinese Restaurant'), brechen richtige Elektro- und Technobeats heraus, sonst herrscht die bekannte Windstille, aber spannungsgeladene Ruhe. Das ist ziemlich gut, wenn man es nicht schon bisschen über hat. Dahinter bleiben die Fragen um das verwirrende Spiel mit der Kryptik in ihrer Verwendung des Japanischen - in ihrem Namen, in der Behandlung ihrer (wie ich mir sagen lasse, ziemlich guten) Texte (Augenkrebsdesign des Booklets), in der abwegigen Wahl des Albumtitels, der ganzen Anmutung (englische Tracktitel, europäisches Label), sie mache etwas, was sich Nichtjapanern erschließen lasse, die dabei kaum in der Lage wären, etwa zu wüdigen, in wie weit sie sich nicht etwa von Bjötk, sondern eher von hierzulande kaum bekannten Pionierinnen wie Akiko Yano emanzipiert hat. Multipara *****
Nacida en Osaka, la cantante y compostiora japonese Tujiko Noriko se compró su primer sintetizador y sampler en 1999. Su primer album 'Make-Up And Soldier' (2000), editado por el sello japonés Niton, está descatalogado. En diciembre de 2000 conoció en Tokio a Peter 'Pita' Rehberg, del sello austriaco Mego, donde aparecerian sus siguientes discos: los álbumes 'Shojo Toshi' (2001) y 'Make Me Hard' (2002). Su cuarto largo, 'From Toyko To Naigara' (2003), lo editó el sello alemán Tomlab y el quinto, 'Blurred In My Mirror' (2005), el australiano Room40. Pero la prolifica Noriko también ha firmado discos junto a otros: con Pita (como DACM), con Riow Arai (como RATN), con Aoki Takamasa y con Portradium. Ha cambiado muy poco a través de los años y en su sexto álbum, 'Solo', vuelve a recorrer, con resultados mágicos, la fina linea que separa la unidad conceptual del estancamiento, Tujiko Noriko tiene el don de hacer un ensoñador pop electrónico, digital, de melodias juguetonas, susurrando en japonés con su voz aniñada, dulce y cálida (¡y no he mencionado a Björk!). Comiencen por 'Ending Kiss'; no falla. Javier Pantoja
Tujiko Noriko was born in Osaka in 1976. She began singing at an early age but didn’t start to release music professionally until she was in her twenties. Her first album, Keshou To Heitai, came out in 2000, after which she was befriended by Peter Rehberg, an experimental electronic musician and founder of the Austrian label MEGO. MEGO released her next album, Shojo Toji, and some of the albums that came afterwards: Hard Ni Sasete, and a 12-inch called I Forgot the Title.
Die japanische Ästhetik vollzieht sich für den Nicht-Experten in einem merkwürdigen Paradox: auf der einen Seite ist alles greller, heller, bunter, lauter und auf der anderen Seite ist es doch subtiler, reduzierter, weniger aufdringlich und entrückter. Wie funktioniert das? Tujiko Noriko macht es auf ihrem neuen Album “ Solo" vor. Das Artwork schreit einem mit grellen Farben und einer gewissen Manga-Stilistik entgegen. Kitsch und Camp erfahren hier, wahrscheinlich ganz ungewollt, neue Dimensionen der Wirksamkeit. Legt man dann jedoch die Platte auf, so wird ein für den westlichen Betrachter ein fast gegensätzliches Bild gekennzeichnet. Leise, reduzierte Klänge schleichen einem entgegen. Eine hohe, fast kindliche, zerbrechliche Stimme breitet sich über den spärlichen Beats aus und entwickelt so etwas wie Intimität, wobei sich eine wirklich organische Wärme im Verlauf der neun Songs nicht wirklich entwickeln will, auch wenn die Produktion von Gerhard Potuznik und Tyme (Mas) die einzelnen Elemente in ein angemessenes klangliches Licht rücken. Insgesamt wirkt “Solo" wie eine melancholische Erinnerung an einen langen Sommer, von dem man weiß, dass man ihn nie wieder erleben wird. Dies bittere Süße fängt Tujiko Noriko auf ihrem Album immer wieder auf faszinierende Art und Weise ein. 7/10
Beneath the foreign vocals and exotic bullshit about "dreamy manga girls", the appeal of Mego's Japanese wonder child Tujiko Noriko is very simple: where else would you find isolationist trip hop at this point in time?
Frickelige Meditation.
Japan, das Land des Karaoke. Ein wenig wie Karaoke klingen auch die Stücke von Tujiko Noriko, der Gesang abgehackt, manchmal so, als wurde er zeitverzögert eingesetzt. Trotz schöner, beinahe lieblicher Stimme wirkt Noriko eigenartig emotionlos, setzt beim Singen meist auf hohe, helle Tone, begleitet von schlichter Minimal-Elektronik, ohne ihren Gesangsstil nennenswert zu variieren. Damit ist gleich auch eine Grenze markiert: Tujiko Noriko hört sich überhaupt nicht nach Björk an, wie in zahlreichen Rezensionen zu ihrem Vorgänger zu lesen war. In ihrer Musik gibt es nichts Ambitioniertes, nichts Verknotetes und auf Kunst Getrimmtes. Alles an 'Solo' ist Pop, Plastik-Pop in großer japanischer Tradition, die bis zum Yellow Magic Orchestra zurückreicht. 'Solo' ist schöne, urbane Musik, modernistisch und romantisch, kühl und verträumt, aber bei aller Reduktion nichts, was einen kalt lässt.
Die japanische Avantgarde-Pop-Chanteuse gibt mit ihrem neuen Album auch mal westlichen Ohren die Gelegenheit, ihre durchaus krude Musik zu checken. Bekanntlich liegen Genie und Wahnsinn dicht beieinander und Fräulein Noriko wandelt leichtfüßig auf diesem schmalen Grad. Die Songs produziert von Gerhard Potuznik und Tyme bestechen durch ihre Filigranität, Detailverliebtheit und Melancholie. Um die aber ganz schätzen zu können, braucht das Album die ganze Aufmerksamkeit. Zum Nebenbeihören sind die Songs einerseits zu schade und anderseits erschließt sich der Soundkosmos nicht so gut. Und die vertrackten Grooves sorgen dafür, dass die Songs nicht in reine 'Kunstmusik' für Vernissagen abrutscht. Die Niedlichkeit des Manga-Cover spiegelt sich auch in den Songs wider. Zum Beispiel gesellen sich aud dem Track 'Sun!' zu dem sphärischen Gesang süße Tiersamples wie der eines Kätzchens. Maunz! Fast schon tanzbar ist der letzte Track 'In A Chinese Restaurant', der beatmaäßig wie die frühen Autechre rüber kommt. Im Gesamtkontext nichts Schlechtes ist. Wer also mal abseitige Popmusik sucht, wird hier bestens bedient. 5/6
Theres a pleasantly self-indulgent air about Tujiko Noriko's third release on Editions Mego, the liberated sound of someone rediscovering how great it can be to make music alone. After a series of collaborative efforts, including the Lawrence English-produced 'Blurred In My Mirror', Noriko cuts loose. In her own words, "I drive and drive looking for a place where there is nobody. I arrive there, wow cool, I get out of the car quickly... Doing a solo show alone in a big green field."
El título del disco, 'Solo', significa que Tujiko Noriko se ha encerrado en el estudio a solas, tras tres años repletos de excelentes colaboraciones. La apuesta es fuerte y a priori provoca desconfianza porque a ella la sucede como a Björk: da lo mejor de sí misma cuando tiene a un productor guiando sus pasos, poniendo en claro sus ideas y mimando esa voz entre dulce y magenética que es su gran secreto. Y aunque hay momentos en los que se hace cansino y un tanto repetitivo (siempre ha sido un fallo de la Noriko, el no saber acabar sus canciones a tiempo), aunque se echanm a faltar esos pequeños hits que punteaban '28' o 'Blurred In My Mirror', hay que decir que 'Solo' es un buen disco, tal vez el más frágil y desnudo de los que ha grabado la japonesa hasta la fecha. Un disco volnutatariamente parco en instrumentos (cada canción se construye con dos o tres elementos y algún arreglo puntual), que prefiere explotar sus cualidades narrativas antes que dejarse llevar por efectos especiales o estribillos facilones. La conclusión, imagino, es que Tujiko Noriko está madurando. Y no le sienta nada mal
‘Solo’ marks the triumphant return of one of our favourite Japanese exports (after sake and hentai) Tujiko Noriko. Don’t let the slightly spannered cover put you off though, this isn’t her J-Pop album, it’s still the Noriko we know and love with all the cutesy vocal parts and crunchy odd-tronic production you could ever hope for. Last year’s ‘Blurred in my Mirror’ (released on the Aussie Room40 label) showed a darker side to Noriko’s work, and ‘Solo’ continues this with her songs taking a much more melancholy slant than usual. The album opens with the pounding industrial dirge of ‘Magic’, which without Noriko’s gorgeous breathy vocals could very easily be mistaken for Nine Inch Nails; a curious blend of styles I’m sure you’ll agree. People say that Noriko is Japan’s answer to Bjork and I must say ‘Solo’ gives further weight to that claim; the production is truly exemplary throughout and the songs seem rather more mature and developed than on any of her previous albums. The sketchiness of her early Mego work is almost totally gone, the pop excess of ‘From Tokyo to Niagara’ is only here in spirit and as she whispers sweet nothings over deranged synthesizer drones on ‘Sun!’ you realised that Noriko has finally reached her destination. ‘Solo’ is the album that has been hinted at all these years and has only now been realised – tracks like ‘Ending Kiss’ and ‘Gift’ are among the finest she’s put her name to, and she has finally reached a point where her records sound totally unique. There’s no mistaking any track on the album for another artist, this is Tujiko Noriko’s sound and we’re lucky to be listening to the mechanics of her mind. A singular vision from a singular artist – this is where we reap the rewards cultural cross pollination. Huge recommendation.
Japanese pop-electronica connoisseur Tujiko Noriko displays a wry sense of humor in her choice of cover art for her sixth full-length effort - a glistening pink backdrop spangled by shooting stars with the pop diva sitting coy in baby blue. At first blush, the drawing seems to portray an image-conscious artist mocking herself in her most exhibitionist form. Better yet, though, quite apart from painting over something of the order of an underlying enigma, the artwork could just as well be taken as an accurate depiction of the music housed inside.
The Japanese laptop musician, singer, and offbeat sex symbol Tujiko Noriko is often compared to a certain other female electronic pop artist, but Tujiko doesn’t have as much in common with Björk as critics might have you believe. Both women straddle the electronic, experimental, and pop music idioms; both sing a proper melody over their po-mo arrangements. But beyond that, the Icelandic lap-pop diva is just a convenient name-drop. The dark, dirty truth is that both have the appeal of the Other; their worlds of cute voices, static, short-shorts, and swan dresses seize the braintrust of (mostly) white, (mostly) male music critics who all simultaneously idolize and (as the adage goes) look a little too much like Bryan Ferry.
Do these girls share only a colonialist fetish appeal? No. But Noriko’s wonderful new album Solo highlights an important distinction between the two that short-circuits her image as “the Japanese Björk.” Her patchwork arrangements are composed with trip-hop adolescence; her simple, melodic vocals contrast the maximalist approaches of other glitch-pop musicians. It’s surprising to find that she has changed her own approach very little over the years.
Ritmi più che mai lentissimi, tastiere vieppiù svolazzanti e acidognole, atmosfera sognante come in un benigno incubo lisergico. La giapponese si ripresenta un po'come Alice nel paese delle meraviglie digitali. Transporta la sua sensibilità in un universo d'ovatta scomoda, sognante ma mai zuccherata, semplice ma non semplicistica. 'Magic' prova subito in apertura la carta di una comunicatività diretta, poi è l'affondo nei grembo amniotico dell'elettronica e il sogno comincia. 'Sun!' ed 'Ending Kiss' suonano tipo Niobe, tra esotismi, aerei galleggiamenti di tastiere elettroniche e voce da bambina vissuta e un po'triste.; le splendide 'Saigo No Chikyi' e 'No Error In My Memory' (non) mantengono minacce fasulle di percussioni vuote e spigoli stondati appena appena; 'Gift' distilla l'essenza di un furitmo proponendosi come OO|OO maggiormente riflessiva (un alternative hit, se si può); 'Spot' è pura metafisica ambient e la lunga chiusa di 'In A Chinese Restaurant' una specie di rientro in sé, al percorso elettronico-terreno (quasi persino forse a tratti dance!) che compete a tutti.
Six years ago Christian Fennesz took his music in a surprising direction. The Austrian experimentalist had flirted with signs that he was, in fact, a guitarist, in various forms on his prior releases, but like IDM-contemporaries Electric Company around that time, little of what could be considered “guitar” in any traditional sense was allowed through. Instead, whatever the source material, Fennesz’s results were, for the most part, sheer (beautiful, frightening) noise. Even when he flirted with pop music as, in the “covers” of the Plays EP, the results were nothing that either of the covered bands, the Beach Boys or the Rolling Stones, could have foreseen. In fact, for licensing purposes, the compositions were treated not as covers at all, but as original compositions.
Seven years later and Christian Fennesz's masterpiece still sounds as glowing hot as it did at birth. Repackaged, re-mastered and remixed, 'Endless Summer' easily retains all of the quality that has made it a blueprint for laptop jockey's ever since. Although similar lines can be drawn with contempories like Oval and Gas, Fennesz's genius was a simple move on the mixing plane, allowing acoustic guitars and vibraphones room to breathe, while painting glitches with sun-dappled reverb. As the title track suggests, the mood is all lazy West Coast ambience, as grafted onto the pixilated quasi-crystals of a computer hard drive. 'Caecila' the short centrepiece of the CD, shimmers like a distorted sunset over water. 'Happy Audio' has always been the favourite though, its droning loop of knotted melodies climaxing into a molten lava of shredded guitar skrea.
There's no going back, they say. The real point is not that you can't go back, though. It's that what you're going back to isn't the same. And it's not to do with any time-wearing or physical alteration. It's the act of going back and its re-constructing effect, with all its accretions and intersections. Then there's the creative mediation of memory. If we call it a "text," then we can tell it like it is. It's inter-textual. It's tricky.
Fennesz’s Endless Summer , originally released in 2001, is filled with the frizzle-fry sounds of melting circuitry, choppy hissing, startling pops, abrasive thrums, underwater whooshes, and sizzling snippets of audio collage. But as experimental as it all is, Fennesz is nothing like the mind-melting ear-assaults of noise bands. This record has received hyperbolic praise, but beneath the skittering ricochet sounds, something musical is happening here. And if you’ve ever been transfixed by the liquid sounds of your neighbor’s plumbing, Fennesz will hold your interest.
When Christian Fennesz released 'Endless Summer' in 2001 it hit the electronica scene like a tsunami. Viewed beside the Austrian guitarist's flickering electro-acoustic haze, much of the work by his clicks n' cuts contemporaries sounded po-faced, cerebral and cold. With 'Endless Summer', Fennesz had invested the laptop with a soul hitherto reserved for 'real' instruments, and it was just what listeners had been waiting for. Now reissued on Editions Mego, 'Endless Summer' now wears its patina of crackle and hiss and sepia-tinged air of nostalgia like a badge: visually in Editions Mego boss Peter Rehberg new cover photographs of sinking golden sunsets, and aurally in the warm glow that still radiates from each track.
The considered wisdom on 2001's Endless Summer is that it was the point where Fennesz peeked out from behind his laptop (with guitar in the other hand), finally revealing a warmth and emotional side through the album's dissolved take on life's bittersweet side. The other view, which didn't get half as much press, is that despite this re-release it's still bucketof incomplete melodic ideas that spells chicanery instead of summer sunsets. it isn't that the abstraction on offer here is too intense or disassociated from what most of the world hears as music, far from it. Tucking some conventionally understood a cluster of melancholic notes under digitally accumulated silt is not a shortcut in creating conceptual beauty. It was Fennesz's 2004 'Venice' that got the formula right. Like the caterpillar cone too early this album is a metamorphosis that should've been left a little longer to mature. The new mix job that Fennesz has done on the album is supposed to have cleared the blend of sounds and 'open it up', but its difficult to hear any obvious difference between the two. It still remains that overweening tendency to submerge the moments of glisten in repetition or steril synth organ sounds. Songs like 'Happy Audio' and the opening 'Made In Hong Kong' sit strapped murkily into an inch of glitch and muffle with little positive effect. These intentional digital hiccups, aluminium rewinds and 78rpm rustles slotted up against guitar sounds just feels like musical shorthand. You couldn't even get away with calling this Fennesz's attempt to get convincingly emotive a recipe for disaster. That has connotations of something momentous happening. Honestly, 'Venice' is the disc you're after.
Editado en 2001, y culpable por línea directa de ese subgénero de la electrónca en el que se funden portátiles y guitarras eléctricas, "Endless Summer" supone la cumbre del vienés Christian Fennesz, un disco en el que colisionan el amor absoluto por My Bloody Valentine con una habilidad insultante para el procesado digital: guitarra cargadas de efectos, mantras soñadores y drones ingrávidos que son perfilados y manipulados a través de un portátil y de una pila de efectos, ya sea para inventar epifanías de cegadora belleza ('A Year In A Minute'), dibujar sinfonías cargadas de ecos telúricos ('Endless Summer') o perderse en la belleza obtusa de un puñado de glitches ('Before I Leave'). Todo cabe en un disco inmenso, a medio camino entre le pop y el ambient, el experimento y el classicsmo, y que no ha perdido nada de su vigencia. Come extras, esta edición incluye una nueva portada (un poco gáyer, hay que decir) a cargo de Jon Wozencroft, un terra inédito (el acuático 'Endless') y otrp rescatado de un maxi que Fennesz grabó aquel mismo año para Fat Cat. El auténtico anzuelo, sin embargo, consiste en la nueva mezcla realizada, mucho más cálida y suave, que convierte la escucha del disco en una actividad aún más placentera que hace seis años.
"Endless Summer" - wer mag da beim Betrachten von Titel und Sonnenuntergangskitsch auf dem Cover nicht an laue Abende in August, warmes Bier und Stechmücken denken? Jene, die diese oder ähnliche profane Erwarttungen hatten, als Endless Summer anno 2001 ershien, dürften angesichts des Wechselspiels aus fast lieblicher Frickelei und scharfknatigen Digital Noise-Tracks auf Gitarrenbasis ziemlich verwundert aus der Wäsche geschaut haben. Für die Neuauflage des Albums hat sich Christian Fennesz nochmals in Studio eingeschlossen und einen frischen Mix angefertigt, der dem Wunsch nach einem transparenteren Klangbild Rechnung trägt, sowie zusätzlich zwei Bonussongs - einer davon bisher unveröffentlicht - draufgelegt. Wer die Entwicklung der Gitarrenmusik mit dem Tod von Jimi Hendrix für beendet hält und nicht versteht, warum ein Laptop manchmal wichtiger ist als ein Marshall-Amp, wird die Schonheit, die in diesen mitunter karg wirkenden Tönen steckt, vermutlich weder sehen können noch begreifen wollen. Der Rest schwelgt in pürer ästhetischer Erhabenheit (9) Sascha Bertoncin
Hypnotique, leur mélange d'électronique subtile et de guitares délavées n'est certes pas totalement nouveau, mais il est ici si réussi qu'on se laisse prendre, comme au premier jour, comme lorsqu'on approchait innocemment l'Endless Summer de l'Autrichien Fennesz, un album matriciel pour toute la vague ambient/post rock à venir, qui reparaît aujourd'hui dans une version remasterisée par l'auteur lui-même, désireux d'accorder plus de présence aux instruments individuels, jadis un peu noyés dans la masse ("Before I Leave" en particulier, en ressort transfiguré), qui profite également de l'occasion pour y ajouter deux titres, un "Badminton Girl" réchappé d'un split épuisé avec Main et un "Endless" totalement inédit qui clôt en beauté cet été que l'on aimerait du coup véritablement éternel. Jean-François Micard
Debe de ser uno de los best-séllers de Mego y es, de largo, la obra que más he hecho por acercar la electrónica experimental a los consumidores de pop que consideraban al shoegazing el súmmum del noise. "Endless Summer" (2001) dio la espalda momentáneamente al ruido que duele y apostó por el ruido qu envuelve, que acaricia, que cosquillea, que desconcierta, que hipnotiza.
"Endless Summer" gilt ja bekanntlich als das melodiöseste und zugänglichste Album des Wiener Elektronikers. Da die Platte bisweilen recht schwierig und nur über teure Importpreise zu haben war, hat sich Mego entschlossen, die Songs noch einmal neu gemischt und gemastert herauszubringen. Und es lässt sich jetzt schon vorwegnehmen, dass sich die Arbeit gelohnt hat. Es wird sofort deutlich, warum Christian Fennesz mit diesem Album endlich eine breitere Aufmerksamkeit zuteil wurde, denn die Verbindung aus gebrochenen Melodien und glitchigen Texturen wurde noch nie so virtuos zusammengeführt wie auf “Endless Summer". Fennesz nimmt auf diesem Album weitläufige Melodiebögen und bricht sie in ihre Einzelteile, um sie daraufhin wieder neu zusammenzusetzen. Dabei passiert Erstaunliches. Die Melodien bewegen sich scheinbar kontinuierlich weiter, wobei sie immer wieder aufs Neue gebrochen und von verschiednen Clicks und Cuts dekonstruiert werden. So entsteht ein Spannungsfeld aus scheinbar nichtlinearen Strukturen, die sich verbinden und wieder auseinanderlaufen und immer wieder neue Assoziationen knüpfen. So bewegen sich mindestens immer zwei verschiedene Klangstrukturen unabhängig voneinander und erzeugen in dieser Verbindung immer wieder neue Bilder, die sich nur schwer in Worte fassen lassen. Natürlich hat man es sich auch nicht nehmen lassen, noch zwei Bonussongs draufzupacken, wobei “Endless" bisher unveröffentlicht ist und “Badminton Girl" manch einem Nerd von der Split #15 12" mit Main auf dem feinen Fat Cat Label bekannt sein könnte. Diese Platte macht auf wunderbarste Art und Weise deutlich, wie nahe Struktur und Chaos zusammen liegen und sich stets gegenseitig bedingen. Absolut feine Sache in jeder Hinsicht. 9.5/10
L'éternel été de Christian Fennesz
Endless Summer - wer mag da angesichts von Titel und Sonnuntergangskitsch auf dem Cover nicht an laue Abende im August, warmes Bier und Stechmücken denken?
Rimasterizzato da Denis Blackham negli studi Skye da un nuovo missaggio dello stesso Fennesz, sua immensità Endless Summer, album sorpresa del 2001, apogeo dell’errore digitale, trasfigurazione del sixties pop per la generazione digitale, nuovo approdo per lo shoegazing nei Duemila, capolavoro del viennese e tanti altri metri di tappeto rosso, ritorna nei negozi con tanto di copertina inedita a opera del fido Jon Wozencroft. E noi non possiamo che riascoltarlo, curiosi di come suoneranno questi 50 minuti nel 2007. Iniziamo dalla fine, dalle bonus track: sono due momenti non impedibili ma necessari: c’è Badminton Girl, nel mood di Made In Hong Kong (ma non altrettanto incisiva), recuperata da uno split con i Main del 2001 (su Fat Cat), e l’inedita Endless, un ambientale dilatato messo in coda a mo d’epilogo che mancava - soprattutto pare un ricordo dei landscape più dolci del Fennesz impro-live del periodo. Ma è la polpa che conta, e le suggestioni soniche sono lì, nei solchi della scaletta originale, intatte con qualche novità dovuta soprattutto alle capacità di un orecchio che nel frattempo s’è allenato e afferra con maggiore efficacia.
Christian Fennesz aurait-il des tentations nostalgiques ? En 2001, la parution de son Endless Summer avait définitivement scellé son goût pour les arpèges électroniques, son attraction spatialisée pour les moulures mélodiques mélangeant motifs de guitares et parterre électronica soigné aux confins de scénarios de glitch/music résonnant depuis comme des antiennes du genre. Car, avouons-le, Endless Summer allait marquer Christian Fennesz autant que son public, en traçant des contours stylistiques dont le musicien autrichien aura parfois bien du mal à se départir. Alors, pourquoi revenir vers cet été que l'on croyait pourtant sans fin, vers cette ode transfigurée aux Beach Boys et aux incidences pop et électronique à l'occasion d'une réédition qui titille toujours autant l'abstractivité sensuelle du personnage ? Remastérisé, agrémenté de deux inédits ("Badminton girl" - initialement paru sur un 12" du label Fat Cat - et "Endless"), Endless Summer version 2006 satisfera l'appétence des fans inconditionnels et sera une excellente session de rattrapage pour les nouveaux convertis. Mais surtout, cette approche de l'¦uvre renouvelée marquera peut-être l'occasion pour Christian Fennesz de boucler la boucle, de rompre les équilibres hypnotiques qui accompagnent sa carrière depuis pour aborder de nouvelles méthodes de composition et d'habillage sonore. Ouvrir une nouvelle saison dans son calendrier intemporel en quelque sorte.
Uroki cyfrowego lata.
Fa un certo effetto parlare già di ristampa per un disco relativamente ancor giovane seppur importante come l'"Endless Summer" di Fennesz. Segno dei tempi. dove le cose ruotano a velocità folle e poco più di un lustro pare già un secolo. Ad ogni modo "Endless Summer" rimane un disco cruciale, per via di quell'immaginario intramontabile, i Beach Boys certo, in cima ai sogni musicali di Christian Fennesz in quei giorni, ma anche e soprattutto il semisconosciuto (da noi) film di Bruce Brown dallo stesso titolo. Storie dell'ultima avventura alla ricerca dell'onda perfetta, su cui fare surf in faccia al sole e sfidando la vita stessa. L'"estate senza fine" messa in musica da Fennesz, usci a ridosso dell'estate 2001, l'ultima estate con un sogno possible in testa. Due mesi dopo (11 settembre avrebbe ridisegnato il futuro del pianeta, spazzando via come in un'apocalisse il sogno americano e in fondo l'"Endless Summer" nell'immagimaroio colletivo era se non solo, soprattutto un sogno americano. Per questo forse oggi il disco di Fennesz appare ancor più struggente ed in qualche modo malinconico. persino certi suoni tanto cari a quel tempo. mettono malinconia , il dualismo digitale-analogico, dolcemente perso tra le pieghe di un suono che si vorrebbe per sempre magico e sensuale, ma che non può più esserlo, non allo stesso mondo. E quelle melodie che scivolano sottopelle languide e leggere come il vento d'estate, 'Caecelia', 'Shisheido', cosa possono dirci ora, se non il ricordo di una stagione anch'essa spazzata via con i venti di ghiaccio del dopo... Niente paura, esistono ancora e sempre i "winds of change" che non ci lasciano demordere. e c'è sempre una storia da raccontare a qualcuno, da qualche parte... Dimenticavo, le due bonus tracks non aggiungonon nulla e nulla tolgono a quella storia... (8) Gino Dal Soler
It's difficult to put into words what makes Endless Summer deserving of its status as a modern classic. While certainly inventive, it isn't as if Christian Fennesz was the first to make this kind of noise. One look at the Oval back catalogue and one can draw a distinct line from Markus Popp's 94diskont to Fennesz' blurry abstractions. The intimate minutia of Endless Summer is in the fragments of digital feedback and processed electric guitar. It's in the way you only become aware of the multiple melodies going on in any one of the album's songs after repeated listening. I use the term "song" deliberately here because unlike other electronic, avant-garde, and noise records Endless Summer is made up of actual songs. Each has a life and character of its own, adding to the overall effect but singular in its own right. It doesn't feel like the whole record is one long piece cut into tracks at arbitrarily determined intervals. Perhaps most importantly, and this is especially important considering the shelf life of most electronic music, six years on it still doesn't sound the least bit dated. If any album in this decade could be worthy of claiming the rights to the throne vacated by My Bloody Valentine's Loveless it is Endless Summer.
If The Beach Boys' 'Pet Sounds' can get the mother of all remaster and repackaging jobs om their 30th Anniversary box set, it's surely fair that spiritual descendent Christian Fennesz's 'Endless Summer' - an oblique tribute to The Beach Boys in Ambient electronic form and long out of print - should get a fresh clean and a polish as well. Remixed by the artists himself, it comes with a new cover and two bonus tracks taken from the album recordings five years ago.
Thats right, a 9.5 out of 10. It doesn?t get much better than this. It barely seems possible that Christian Fennesz could have produced a record still considered so fresh by today?s standards six years ago, yet despite the avalanche of imitators Endless Summer has precipitated since 2001, not one record has come close. Few artists can get away with reissues for albums still relatively easy to get hold of in their original form, but given the sheer splendor Fennesz strung together with Endless Summer, a reminder won?t go amiss.
Revisiting Christian Fennesz' 2001 album Endless Summer six years later brings to mind one of my favorite single lines from a critic. In 1963, film writer/maker Jonas Mekas asserted in his Village Voice column that 8mm film, including amateur footage rediscovered and presented in a different context, was the future of the medium. He mentioned reels with sunsets casually shot in Arizona by vacationing New Yorkers and said that "time is laying a veil of poetry over them."
“Badminton Girl”
Originally released in 2001, this fuzzed-out masterpiece by the Vienna-based Christian Fennesz is finally back in print, with two bonus tracks, a snazzy new cover, and a sharper mix from Fennesz himself. Endless Summer was a turning point in experimental electronic music, the moment when melody and cacophony learned to love one another. Though the title is a nod to the Beach Boys, the album owes more to My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain, a lineage made evident by the fuzzy guitars and clicks and loops hovering above a distant pop landscape on “Shisheido.” But on tracks like “A Year in a Minute,” the ambient nature of the work persists, evoking a mood far more than a thought. But that’s exactly what makes Endless Summer so revolutionary: though it’s electronic, the music here is alive. It may be unsettling and initially inaccessible, perhaps, but it comes across as human, breathing, and evolving. Don’t expect anything as easy on the ears as the Postal Service, but given the chance, there’s a lot of pleasure to be found in this abstract work of art. 4 stars
As modern electronic albums go, it just doesn't get more classic then this long out-of-print masterpiece from Christian Fennesz, finally reissued with two bonus tracks, new artwork and brand new mastering from the man himself. On its release five years ago this record was a shock to the system, illustrating perfectly that electronic music could be both experimental and deeply moving. You have to remember - as far as this sort of thing goes, Fennesz wrote the rulebook. "Endless Summer" is an album of opposites, Fennesz perfectly mastering the mammoth task of creating total harmony from sonically warring sides. `Endless Summer' went on of course to become the album everyone wanted to drop as an influence, and everyone wanted to work in collaboration with, most notably David Sylvian, Jim O'Rourke, ISIS, Junior Boys and more recently US indie band Sparklehorse. It's not often that an experimental artist will achieve so much in such a short amount of time, but this is a testament to his true skill as an innovator, and although `Endless Summer' borrowed much from My Bloody Valentine and Sonic Youth, it was a unique statement and still stands as such. Billed as a tribute of sorts to the Beach Boys, with it's name taken from a Beach Boys record and cover art depicting sunny seascapes, Fennesz combined his MBV influenced electric guitar parts with harsh digital laptop processing to create music which still manages to sound totally out of time. Take the title track for example - building on a simple sunny guitar strum it allows wave upon wave of digital noise to interrupt its flow before building into a jubilant chorus. This was an area of music that really had been left untapped, and on this handful of tracks Christian Fennesz managed to give the most defined statement he could. Following `Endless Summer' is the album's highlight `A Year in a Minute', a deep and textured composition which leaves the organic sound it was based on utterly submerged beneath digital washes and stutters. The track is almost orchestral in its composition and takes the listener on a journey without ever resorting to cheap melodramatic changes. Instead Fennesz manages to keep the it subtle, allowing it to release its character only after repeated listens. What is most interesting about this re-issue, apart from the fact that you're now able to buy the album again after a long period of deletion , is that the label have not only included two extra tracks (`Badminton Girl' from the FatCat release and unreleased track `Endless') but they have managed to get Christian Fennesz to remix the whole album, twisting the levels to get the record sounding better than ever before. There's always a danger in retouching work that is so well loved, but Fennesz has managed to genuinely enhance the listening experience making tracks such as `Caecilia' stand out even further with its delicate Marimba treatment and intense shards of processed sound. `Endless Summer' is a truly classic album and has never sounded better than this, so with brand new artwork from Jon Wozencroft (which should make it sit side-by-side with followup album `Venice' a little better) and those two bonus tracks, there should be no reason not to snap this up straight away. Essential purchase....
Originally a rare find released by Mego in 1998 on 7-inch, this single has been re-released on 10-inch and download services. Yippee. Both tracks (with their unregonizable Rolling Stones and Beach Boys samples) are so delicate and beautifully crafted, they appear like minute snowshaker biospheres - perfectly formed with moments of haze and snapshot guitars rising to the surface. Perfect for sunny winter days.
First released on Mego in 1998 as a 7" , Plays... comprises two tracks which became a watershed for Fennesz. Styled as covers of The Rolling Stones "Paint It Black" and The Beach Boys' "Don't Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder", these are more like meditations on the ideas of the two songs' existence, put together (or rather pulled apart) in a lyrical mode rarely found in electronica. Snippets of the source material drift blissfully free to gather into hazy new shapes. Played loud, both tracks reveal a physicality that beats wonderfully against the disembodied ghostliness of their atmosphere.
In Februar findet in Frankreich die Premiere des Stückes 'Kindertotenlieder' statt. Es ist davon auszugehen, dass der auf Mego veröffentliche Soundtrack bereits jetzt bekannter ist, als es das Theaterstück sein wird. Das liegt auch an den handelnden Personen: Eine kooperration zwischen Drone-Priester Stephen O'Malles von SunnO)))) und laptop-Pionier Peter 'Pita' Rehberg ist an sich schon bemerkenswert. Das Produkt ist es umso mehr. In bedrohlichen, sich nur langsam vorwärts bewegenden Soundmonolithen vereinen sie ihre musikalischen Welten, ohne Kompromisse einzugehen. Hier wird eine eiskalte, klaustrophobe Atmosphäre vermittelt, die eigentlich keine Bühneninzenierung mehr braucht. 8/10
Thank heavens Peter Rehberg has brought Mego back, and that the very first thing Editions Mego has done is set about reissuing seminal ambient noise albums like Fennesz’s Endless Summer (2001) and the almost impossible to find Kevin Drumm album Sheer Hellish Miasma (2002). And it’s easy to set the KTL project in that Mego tradition: high end, high concept noise and some of the most ubiquitous albums of the millennium.
KTL staat voor Kindertotenlieder en is genoemd naar een gelijknamige theaterproductie van Gisèle Vienne en Dennis Cooper. Het stuk zelf is gebaseerd op een negentiende-eeuwse gedichtenbundel van Friedrich Ruckert, waarin de hij de dood van zijn kindern beweent. Die teksten vormden overigens ook het thematicshe uitgangspunt voor een werk van Gustav Mahler. Voor hedendaagse muziek en geluid bij deze voorstellig richtten Vienne en Cooper zich echter tot niemand minder dan noisemeister Peter Rehberg (Pita) en de omnipresente Stephen O'Malley (SunnO))), Khanate en Ginnungagap). Nu hij een steep heeft getrokken onder Khanate kan O'Malley het zich veroorloven om een heleboel nieuwe projecten op te starten zoals Gravetemple (met Attila Csihar van Mayhem en Oren Ambarchi) en KTL. Voor de opnames van 'KTL' trokken Rehberg en O'Malley zich terug in een voormalige versterkte shuilplaats van het Franse verzet tijdens WO II. Hoewel het artwork het tegenovergestelde doet vermoeden, is het absoluut geen black metal album geworden. Maar voor de rest is het al even ravemzwart en grimmig. De cd, die bestaat uit een proloog, vier thema's ('Forest Floor 1-4') en een epiloog, opent met het circa 25 minuten durende 'Estranged' waarbij brommende ambientdrones nu en dan worden opgesmukt met spaarzame, onheilspellende gitaarklanken. Nadien domineren schrille noise-uitbarstingen de vier middenstukken en wordt het volume ook verder opengedraaid. Rehbergs abstracte elektronica dwingt O'Malley in 'Forest Floor 2' tot opboksen waardoor zijn gitaarspel in vergelijking met zijn andere projecten slechts een rol op de achtergrond vervult. In het derde deel neigt KTL dan weer naar het beste van SunnO))) en had het zeker niet mistaan op hun 'Black One'. Het geheel wordt treffend afgesloten door 'Snow' dat muzikaal aanhaakt bij de opener. (swat)
En una estela cercana se encuenra KTL, proyecto puntual que comparten Peter Rehberg (aka Pita) y uno de los guitarristas de Sunn O))), Stephen O'Malley. Su estupendo disco de debut es la versión 'para escuchar' de la bada sonora que han pergeñado a medias para un espectáculo de danza: un festival de drones a baja velocidad, chirridos, atmósferas emponzoñadas y perversiones digitales, capaz de saltar desde un ronroneo casi asténico a un infierno de ruido blanco. Para orejas curtidas.
Derrière le pseudonyme KTL, on trouve deux personnages incontournables des musiques souterraines des 10 dernières années, à savoir Peter Rehberg (ou Pita) et Stephen O'Malley, réunis autour d'un projet collectif et transdisciplinaire, Kindertotenlieder, écrit par Dennis Cooper, et mis en scène par la chorégraphe Gisèle Vienne. La musique présente sur ce disque n'est qu'une ébauche (ce qui n'enlève rien à ces qualités) du futur spectacle, dont la première aura lieu en mars prochain, à Brest, dans le cadre du festival Les Antipodes. Les deux musiciens, venant d'univers différents voir opposés, numérique pour Peter Rehberg, analogique pour Stephen O'Malley, s'avèrent complémentaires aux yeux de Gisèle Vienne. L'idée de confronter ses deux fortes personnalités, lui est venue lors d'un concert de SunnO))) (prononcez sun) dont Rehberg faisait partie. L'électronique s'incruste de plus en plus dans le drone rock, et ce KTL en est un de ses plus beaux représentants. Le drone rock vient de l'absence d'éléments rythmiques, en jouant lentement, en prenant le temps d'explorer l'espace entre les notes, en laissant le son déployer toute sa densité, ses textures et ses modulations. Chaque détail a son importance comme sur "Estranged" (25 mns), le plus monolithique où l'alchimie fonctionne si bien, que l'on se demande qui fait quoi. La guitare nonchalante et macabre d'O'Malley fait une entrée plus remarquée sur les "Forest Floor" 1, 2, 3 & 4 (40 mns au total) où Rehberg n'est pas en reste, avec ses apports mortifères et autres crissements torturés. "Snow", avec une approche plus free, un calme relatif et une ambiance étouffante clôt cet opus, certes extrême mais excellemment composé. Après l'écoute de cette ¦uvre diaboliquement inspirée, vous n'aurez qu'une envie, celle d'aller voir Kindertotenlieder.
Prior to stumbling upon the project's debut release, how many people are likely to know the work of both artists who formed KTL? Not so many, probably, since they come from such different music circles. Note the last word: circles. They work in different fields, but their music is highly compatible, as KTL reveals. Guitarist Stephen O'Malley is one half of black metal extremists Sunn 0))). Peter Rehberg is the computer music maverick known as Pita, pioneer of glitch music and sculptor of harsh digital sounds. The two of them started working together for a theater production by Gisèle Vienne and Dennis Cooper, Kindertotenlieder. The label's press release emphatically stresses the point that KTL the album is not that production's soundtrack but a separate project (although the abbreviation would stand for Kindertotenlieder). The album delivers 77 minutes of electricity-packed soundscapes. The four-part "Forest Floor" is a sonic assault of digital textures and fast-strummed guitar chords moving up and down the neck. The piece is very dark and relentless, but it remains bearable. After all, KTL do not stack up the decibels into a wall of sound like, say, Merzbow. Instead, faithful to Sunn 0)))'s m.o., the duo's music is very active in the low end and rarely goes up screaming in the high end. "Forest Floor" (40 minutes in all) is sandwiched between two quieter tracks. The opening "Estranged" (25 minutes) features Rehberg rumbling in the sub-bass register while O'Malley occasionally cuts through with short interventions on guitar, more in a free improv style. The concluding "Snow" (13 minutes) is even more unusual: Rehberg sticks to quiet ambient textures, while O'Malley plays some delicate feedback and prepared guitar, evoking the ghost of Derek Bailey taking hold of Thurston Moore's body. Overall, that track leans more toward Rehberg's usual sound world, while the rest of the album bears more resemblance to Sunn 0)))'s universe. KTL is a long-winded effort, but this unlikely association has yielded worthy fruits.
Il problema, se così lo si può definire, è insito nella volontà di chi presenta il disco (l'etichetta, l'agenzia promozionale o gli stessi autori, anche se tenderei a escludere quest'ultima ipotesi) di volerne trasmettere un'immagine, quindi un'identità sonora, che non appartiene affatto ad esso e che sarà magari propria del gruppo in questione, ma che non viene qui applicata o quanto meno non in tali termini. Perché quando si parla di "Extreme Computer Music & Black Metal" si fuorvia l'ascoltatore e si fornisce un'informazione errata. Invece Stephen O'Malley (SunnO))), Khanate, Burning Witch, Teeth Of The Lions Rule The Divine, Thorr's Hammer, Lotus Eaters, ecc.) e Peter Rehberg (aka Pita, nonché boss della Mego) hanno messo in atto una rappresentazione, certamente oscura (sebbene mai malevola) e altrettanto sicuramente ostica (sebbene mai estrema), di esplorazioni chitarristiche e digitali, con supporto di effetti vari al fine di comporre il "sottofondo" musicale di 'Kindertotenlieder', opera teatrale di Gisèle Vienne e Dennis Cooper (scrittore statunitense di cui vorrei ricordare libri come 'Ziggy', 'Closer' e 'Frisk'). Il che si traduce in sei lunghe rappresentazioni del drone indagato nelle sue diverse forme (tanto noise e feedback rock, quanto industriali ed elettroniche, minimali e isolazioniste), ma i concetti di estremo e male, per chi è abituato a determinati suoni o già solo alle prove live di SunnO))), non vengono mai portati oltre la soglia. Però voi, nel momento in cui ascolterete KTL e il loro omonimo album (registrato in quel di Grenoble), non dovrete lasciarvi influenzare da tale prospettiva errata, perché quando vi ritroverete invischiati nelle dense tessiture di stasi tonale create dai due musicisti difficilmente riuscirete a venirne fuori. Più concettuale che materiale, perfetto quale soundtrack.
SunnO))), Boris et KTL : Power ambiant electronic
Macht mal einer das Licht an! Was für ein finsterer Release. Das Kürzel KTL steht für "Kindertotenlieder". Der Dichter Friedrich Rückert bezeichnete so 428 Gedichte, die er unter dem Eindruck des Todes seiner Kinder geschrieben hat. Besondere Bekanntheit elangten diese durch die Vertonung Gustav Mahlers. Der Historiker und Schriftsteller Hans Wollschläger nannte die Kindertotenlieder "die größte Totenklage der Weltliteratur".
This blacker than black collaboration between Stephen O’Malley and Peter Rehberg is a great piece of mood music. KTL is more subdued than the main output from both of these artists, yet together they instil a palpable sense of tension into the music to give it a captivatingly creepy result.
"Forest Floor 1"
KTL is the collaboration of Stephen O’Malley of SunnO)))/Khanate and Peter Rehberg, perhaps best known as Mego’s authority-figure. The collaboration came about in perhaps the most high-falutin way: scoring a theater (nee, theatre) production entitled ‘Kindertotenlieder’ (KTL) by playwright Gisele Vienne and Dennis “Sexy Heebie-Jeebie” Cooper in a resistance fortress in southern France during a thunderstorm, the two musicians let it ride on black, developing a release beyond the confines of the soundtrack. This CD is the product: a foray into noise/computer music and black metal, or as O’Malley prefers, Digital Analogue Black Metal (DABM).
Stephen O'Malley muss man anno 2007 niemanden mehr vorstellen. Kaum eine musikalische Querverbindung , die nicht irgendwie zu ihm führt, und der nicht gerade geringe kommerzielle Erfolg von SunnO))) dürfte die meisten Erwartungen um Längen übertroffen haben. Für KTL hat sich O'Malley mit Peter Rehberg (auch bekannt als PITA) zusammengeschlossen. Die Idee für das Projekt entstand, als beide für die Theaterproduktion 'Kindertotenlieder' von Gisele Vienne und Dennis Cooper arbeiteten. Die Eigenbeschreibung als "Digital Analog Black Metal" darf man wohl eher mit einem großen Augenzwinken lesen, denn auch wenn sich hier analoge und digitale Arbeitsmethoden gegenüberstehen, hat das Ergebnis nichts mit Black Metal zu tun. Die sechs Tracks spannen den Bogen von Ambient bis enervienenden Lärmschüben, wobei die Gitarren sich mal mehr, mal weniger als solche zu erkenne geben. Insgesamt nicht ganz so vereinnahmend wie der SunnO))) Output, trotzdem eine sichere Bank für Fans unpathetischer Düstersounds, welche dank des Vertriebs möglicherweise in so manchem Haushalt landen wird, in dem Gitarren ansonsten tabu sind. (8) Sascha Bertoncin
Last year SunnO))) applied their signature drone excursions to the medium of sculpture with the artist Banks Violette, effectively leaving behind any association with metal and stepping into a more artistically free world where anything goes. This time around Stephen O'Malley turns his amps in the direction of theatre, collaborating with Peter Rehberg (PITA) on a composition for a stage piece by Gisele Vienne and Dennis Cooper entitled 'Kindertotenlieder', and while the label stresses that this is not the soundtrack for the piece but a seperate project, some of the elements on this recording might be incorporated when the piece is premiered in Brest in February/March 2007. A six-part exploration of pitch-black elements if computer music and drone, KTL is a dense and disturbing piece, the first part 'Estranged' a 24 minute journey through electronic ambience and sparse atmospheric guitars that acts as a relatively minimal and lengthy introduction to the main body of 'Forest Floor 1-4', four part piece that sits firmly in the sort of black metal/drone arena that SunnO))) are renowned for but this time complemented by Rehberg's digital manipulations. The recording returns to more minimal arrangements of the first track with 'Snow', closing off the proceedings in a suitably eerie manner. Dense, chilling and supremely dark, this is very much what you would expect from a meeting of digital music and the man behind SunnO))), and while there is little departure from the tried and tested formula O'Malley has been specializing in and perfecting over the years there is plenty here for drone affcionados and beyond - but it also testament to how far O'Malley has taken this form of expression from its roots in underground extreme music. VV
Choc des titans entre l'inventeur du glitch, l'Autrichien Peter Rehberg, et le plus terrifiant pourvoyeur de drones métalliques, le Californien Stephen O'Malley de Sunn O))), KTL a, sur le papier, tout du cauchemar sonore ultime, d'autant que ses deux géniteurs qualifient le projet de "digital analogue black metal". Ouch! On s'avance donc avec précautions dans KTL, pour y trouver finalement un album, certes extrême, mais également excellement composé, une partie de ce premier opus devant accompagner une pièce de théâtre de Gisele Vienne et Dennis Cooper qui sera jouée en mars á Brest. Opaque, terriblement sourd, KTL oscille entre droned asphyxiés et crissements métalliques torturés, entre guitares âcres et grondements telluriques, le tout au service d'une ambiance proprement étouffante, où l'influence de SunnO))), qui paraît nettement plus présente au premier abord, finit par se fondre étroitement dans une matière sonore dense habitée par l'électronique de Peter Rehberg, au point qu'on ne puisse plus discerner qui est quoi dans cette œuvre cathartique qui vous aspirera dans un trou noir dont vous n'êtes pas prêts de ressortir. Jean-François Micard
... KTL est une autre affaire, plus sombre encore et plus proche de l'esprit du metal doom de SunnO))). Ici, O'Malley joue avec l'électronicien Pita, connu pour ses colaborations noise avec notamment Jim O'Rourke. KTL produit une étrange lumière sombre, qui semble hésiter entre deux territoires: celui de l'electronica bruitiste et du metal comtemplatif. L'effet est terrifiantm qui laisse l'auditeur pantois, prisonnier dans une sphère d'angoisse aux contours quasiment palpables.... Joseph Ghosn
Stephen O’Malley has developed into a rewarding, continually evolving by demonstrating that there are in fact many, many ways to build slate-toned, inch-per-hour monolithic drones. He’s expanded doom metal’s vocabulary in SunnO))) and Khanate, infused post-rock with an appetite for destruction in Aethenor, and administered gut-probing massage therapy with various installation pieces. In KTL, laptop nut Peter Rehberg (best known for his Pita and Fenn O’Berg projects) helps O’Malley approximate the unheimlich clangor of the hull of an alien spacecraft. Four-part buzzfest “Forest Floor”, a glacially paced blend of black metal and power electronics, accounts for the album’s meat. The duo is at its most convincing, though, during 25-minute opener “Estranged”. Here O’Malley lays stark, bent electric guitar notes over a bed of ominous whooshes and whirrs; it’s a bit like hearing Loren Connors perform an Angelo Badalamenti score. Slow and deadly wins this race. 8/10 Phillip Buchan
Interessante Zusammenarbeit zwischen Sunn O)))'s Stephen O'Malley und Pitas Peter Rehberg. Eigentlich kein überraschendes Team. Es funktioniert großartig, vor allem bei dem 24-minütigen Gedröhne zu Beginn, dessen Zwanghaftigkeit eine Freude ist. Die Übungen in brutalem Schallterrorismus sind auch besser also der Durchschnitt, aber, wie soll ich sagen, ich bevorzuge die Balladen. Jetzt noch ein paar Traumkollaborationen: O'Malley und PJ Harvey, O'Malley und Meshuggah. O'Malley und Emperor. O'Malley und Gelbart. O'Malley und Nordvargr. DIANE LANE'S COPY OF ACE OF SPADES 7
Es scheint langsam Methode zu sein, dass Aufnhamen, an denen Stephen O'Malley beteiligt ist, eine ganz eigene Entstehungseschichte oder wenigstens eigebartig anmutendee Aufnahmeorte haben. So wurden einige der Vocals für SunnO)))s "Black One" in einem zugenagelten Sarg der bei Nacht mitten in einem Wald abgestellt wurde, aufgezeichnet, oder so entstanden sie sechs Arrnagements des selbstnetitelten KTL-Debüts teilweise während eines Gewitters auf einer Burg in Frankreich bzw. bei strahlendem Sonnenschein am Tage.
KTL is the work of Sunn o))) guitar-lord Stephen O'Malley and Austrian laptop noise-sculptor Peter Rehberg. First coming
together to soundtrack a theatre production entitled Kindertotenlieder, these ominous nightscapes, creeping drones
and digital agitations came to exist as a separate entity, perhaps best listened to with the lights on. 4 Stars
Stephen O’Mally (Sunn O))), Aethenor, etc..) & Peter Rehberg (Pita) team up under this new moniker, KTL. I have to say I was skeptical of this when it showed up, but boy was I wrong. This is some of the best work from either of these two in awhile. If you dug the weirder tracks of the latest Sunn O))) records – you’ll probably find yourself digging this. The opening track is a 25 minute explorations of murky synths and guitar noise. The rest of the album works it’s way thru O’Malley guitar riffs ad F’d up Pita electronics. Also if you dug the Boris/Merzbow collab this is along those lines, maybe a little better though. Recommended.
KTL member Stephen O'Malley terms this recording "DABM," or "digital analogue black metal," but anyone familiar with O'Malley's work in the groups Sunn O))) or Khanate will know that it needn't be a contradiction in terms. O'Malley and his collaborator Peter Rehberg (aka Mego co-founder Pita) layer waves of electromagnetic resonance, kicked-amplifier crackle, and racetrack-worthy white noise in six long tracks of gruesome drone. Considering the artists at work, it's not surprising that KTL shapeshifts uneasily, at times laying bare the vibrations of strings and tube-driven air, at times disappearing into a morass of signal processing. These works offer a first glimpse of the duo's score for Gisèle Vienne and Dennis Cooper's theatrical piece Kindertotenlieder, which will premiere in 2007. From the sound of things, expect a very bleak production, indeed. (PS)
KTL are Sunn0))) guitarist Stephen O'Malley and electronic noisenik/Mego label boss Peter "Pita" Rehberg, and the duo's moniker is an abbreviation of Kindertotenlieder, a theatrical collaboration between French performance artist Gisele Vienne and American novelist Dennis Cooper. O'Malley and Rehberg were asked to score the piece, whose title (which translates as "Songs on the Death of Children") has a long artistic history. It first emerged as a 425-poem opus written by German poet Freidrich Rückert in 1834 after two of his children died within a few weeks. Later, at the turn of the century, five of those poems were set to an orchestral song cycle by Gustav Mahler.
KTL, dat is kort vorr Kindertotenlieder. Maar Gustav Mahler heeft nu eens niets met deze cd te maken, al liet hij zich inspireren door dezelfde gelijknamige gedichtencyclus die Peter Rehberg en Stephen O'Malley aan het werk zette: een reeks van 425 gedichten die Friedrich Ruckert schreef nadat twee cab zijn kinderen binnen kort tijd overleden. Dat werk is bovendien de basis voor een theaterproductie, waar deze muziek weer wel mee van doen heeft. Rehberg, ofwel de Oostenrijkse, radicale noise-artiest Pita, en O'Malley, voortrekker van de dronemetal-scene met zijn groep Sunn0))), trekken hier een indrukwekkende geluidscontructie op. Het 25 minuten durende openingsstuk "Estranged" is een meesterzet: een duistere drone (doorgaande grondtoon) die O'Malley met zijn desolate gitaarakkoorden aan stukken probeert te hakken. Verderop wordt de stemming een stuk opstandiger, zoals dat gaat in een rouwproce, waarna deze ontroerende plaat afgesloten wordt in verstilde berusting. 4/5
Zasłużona wytwórnia Mego, pod nazwą Mego Edition, wznawia działalność od razu mocnym uderzeniem. Tego przynajmniej można oczekiwać po kolaboracji czołowego austriackiego artysty noize z gitarzystą sztandarowej amerykańckiej formacji doom metalowej. Spotkanie jakby z piekła rodem Petera Rehberga (Pita) is Stephena O´Malley (Sunn0)))) odbyło się przy okazji pracy nad spektalem "Kindertotenliden". Pomimo różnego przyporządkowania gatunkowego i używanych instrumentów, łączy ich wiele cech wspólnycg. Na stylowo zaprojektowanym albumie KTL dominują brudne intensywne drony oraz przesterowana i modulowana gitara. Nic dzinego, że muzycy spotkalisię w teatrze, bo album od pierwszych dźwięków do ostatnich roztacza przede wszystkim mroczną i kameralną atmosferę. W utworach średnio oscylujących wokół dziesięciu i pozostawiają swobodną formę bez riffów i rytmów. To taka wizja psychdelicznego metalu, która od dłuższego czasu pozwala spojrzeć w przyszłość artystom gitarowym i laptopowym. (js)
Was wie der Anfang einer schwarzen Messe klingt, leitet Outtakes der Arbeit am Soundtrack zur Produktion "Kindertotenlieder" von Gisèle Vienne und Dennis Cooper ein, die im März 2007 am Theater in Brest startet. Peter Rehberg und Stephen O'Malley von SunnO))) hben sich dafür zusammen getan und sowohl in einer von Donnerwettern umtosten Festung, wie auch im sonnendurchflutem Wintergarten eine musikalische Sprache entwickelt. Nachdem sich zu dem am Anfang stehenden intensiven Tongebilde zunächst furztrockene elektronische Signale gesellen, aus denen im weiteren Verlauf ein droniger Teppich entsteht, setzt schliesslich die Gitarre ein und verbreitet eine Stimmung, als wûrde man das Lied von Tod zum ertsen Mal hören. In langen Einstellugen breiten die beiden fortan Variationen eines digital-analogen Black Metals aus, die einen wehrlos machen und bloss noch auf die eigenen Zehenägel schauen lassen, die sich angesichts der zu einem Bewusstseinzustand werdenden Soundscapes immer noch weiter aufrollen. Epochal! PP *****
Der neue US-amerikanische Metal-Gott Stephen O’Malley von den schlagzeuglosen Zeitlupen-Dröhn-Rockern und Erdplatten-Verschiebern SUNNO))) (unvergessen das Vorjahres-Meisterwerk "A Black One"!!!) und der Wiener Laptop-Extremist Peter Rehberg alias Pita ("Seven Tons For Free") haben sich an der Schnittstelle von experimenteller Elektronik und Vorschlaghammer-Ambient gefunden, um für ein kommenden März im französischen Brest seine Uraufführung erlebendes Theaterstück namens "Kindertotenlieder" tief in den Eingeweiden ihrer Instrumente zu wühlen. Beklemmende, intensive und bis zu 25-minütige Soundblöcke, die an das Beste aus beiden Welten erinnern und die Einrichtungsgegenstände mit Subfrequenzen zum Beben bringen. Tischeverrücken ein Mal anders. Christian Schachinger
Angeblich sollen ja vor kurzem einige Feuilletonisten Dronesounds in Form von SUNN O))) für sich entdeckt haben. Die Hochkultur ist also bereit, schmuddelige Metaller in ihren Reihen zu begrüßen? Im Ernstfall dann wohl doch nicht. Mit KTL bekommen sie jetzt aber weiteres Material, über das sich wunderbar verkopftes Geschwafel verfassen lässt. Hinter diesem Projekt stecken Stephen O'Malley (SUNN O))), KHANATE und zig andere Bands und Projekte) sowie der Klangkünstler Peter Rehbergm der unter anderem als PITA experimentelle Elektronikmusik kreiert. KTL enstand aus einer Zusammenarbeit, die O'Malley und Rehberg als Erschaffer eines musikalischen Rahmens für das Theaterstück "Kindertotenlieder" der Theaterproduzentin Gisèle Vienne und das Schriftstellers Dennis Cooper vorgesehen hatte, entwickelte dabei aber so viel Eigendynamik, dass die beiden daraus ein eigenständiges Projekt formten. Teile der sechs (natürlich) überlangen Tracks, die O'Malley und Rehberg aufgenommen haben, werden zwar im fertigen Stück auftauchen, "KTL" wollen sie aber nicht als bloßen Soundtrack verstanden wissen. Es wäre auch schwer vorstellbar, wie die weit über Stunde lang Platte selbst bei einem sehr experimentellen Theaterstück funktionieren könnte, denn dafür sind die elektronischen als auch handgemachten Klangexperimente, die auf die O'Malley-typischen niederfrequenten Geräusche und Gitarrenwände treffen, auch viel zu präsent, als dass als reine Untermalung dienen könnten. Man könnte das Ganze natürlich jeztz einfach als Kunstkacke eben für erwähnte Feuilleton-Sesselpupser abtun, aber dafür hat das Ganze einfach zuviel Charme und ist auch in dieser etwas sterileren Form genauso erstaunlich begeisternd wie das, was O'Malley mit SUNN O))) macht. (9) André Bohnensack
Stephen O'Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate) e Peter Rehberg (Pita) s'incontrano per comporre le musiche di "Kindertotenlieder", pièce teatrale di Gisele Vienne e di Dennis Cooper (lo scrittore statunitense ne descrive l'ambientazione come "una combinazione tra un concerto black metal e un funerale nel cuore di un bosco austriaco, in pieno inverno"). I due musicisti approfittano delle circostanze, si chiudono in una sala di registrazione nel sud della Francia e partoriscono KTL, uno dei dischi più bui e malati del 2006. O'Malley, nella prima lunghissima tracia e in chiusura, si cimenta in un'impro chiaroscurale ben supportata dall'elettronica di Pita. Il centro di KTL è "Forest Floor", brano diviso in quattro tronconi: stridente, ossessivo e minaccioso come un field recording realizzato all'interno di una stanza dell torture. Gli autori hanno parlato di collisione dei mondi paralleli della computer music estrema e del black metal, ma il valore è dato dal fatto che a incontrarsi sono due fouriclasse eccentrici rispettp ai propri ambiti di provenienza: solo dopo qualche ascolto ci si rende conto che l'inquietudine non proviene tanto dall'assalto di riff di chitarra in slow-motion o dalle intemperanze industrial quanto dalla malinconia primitiva e dall'ineffabile senso di vuoto nascosti più profondamente tra le pieghe del lavoro. (8/8) Francesco Tenaglia
This new collaboration between Stephen O'Malley and Peter Rehberg is touted as a collision of extreme computer music and black metal, but the hype isn't quite borne out by the CD. Like so many releases of this nature, in which two artists of stature are locked together in an uncertain but crushing sonic embrace, the result teeters between genius and mediocrity. Thankfully, there are only a few unfocused excursions on the disc, and the pervasive use of tonal stasis and humming drones, even if garnished with meticulous texture, helps shape the individual pieces and the record as a whole. Of the four tracks, "Forest Floor Part One" is the most active and the least cohesive (proof of the old cliché "less is more"): O'Malley's rippling guitar is interrupted by a burst of Rehberg's SuperCollider patches, and drifts into a humid cloud of drone and feedback as the piece loses its way. The boiling textures of "Forest Floor Part Three" are far more successful, and the two other tracks, "Estranged" and "Snow", give us a glimpse of this duo's true potential: in this restrained and tempered context, O'Malley and Rehberg seem freed from the constraints of their respective discographies, and more willing to dispense with the expected masochistic blasts of noise. - LE
Vom Theaterstück „Kindertotenlieder“ inspirierte Dark Ambient Doom Core Meditationen, die wie schwarzes Wasser in den Schlick unserer Ängste führen. Dort bleiben wir dann stecken und müssen mit ansehen, wie die Welt zusammen mit uns untergeht. Solange, bis die Dunkelheit Augenhöhe erreicht hat, das Atmen also unmöglich ist und der Druck die Lunge funktionsuntüchtig macht, das Grollen der Nervenenden, die im Zeitfluss sich als Schlieren in Nichtigkeit auflösen. ap
We can’t get enough of Stephen O’Malley. The Sunn 0))) guitarist, already blowing our minds with his band’s new album with Boris, again teams up with another artist, this time Peter Rehberg of Pita. KTL, the fruits of their collaboration, has already coined a new genre, DABM (digital analog black metal), and their hellspawn should yield squeals of delight in both camps. The two were working on a theater production entitled Kindertotenlieder when they decided to record an album in their own right, and KTL is indeed a wicked amalgam of O’Malley’s lo-fi roar of guitars and Rehberg’s scratchy electronic minimalism, resulting in a work of outstanding originality. Mind-blowing stuff!
Missing Stephen O'Malley's recent live collaboration with David Grubbs at a hole-in-the-wall bar shaded by the Williamsburg Bridge a couple weeks ago piqued my interest in this project. Both artists have worked with film soundscapes and installations, but what would the live pairing of O'Malley's doom metal and Grubbs' recent multifaceted guitar intricacies sound like, if they decided to go their usual routes at all? Now here is another, at first, eyebrow-raising collaboration. Both Pita's (a/k/a Peter Rehberg) experimental electronics and Stephen O'Malley's (Sunn0))), Khanate) sparse epic guitar sounds tend to operate extreme sides. Both weave in and out of their landscapes adeptly and complimentary on this album. It starts out with a low, atmospheric hum and after several minutes, spectral feedback punctuated by hollow whistles and swirls emerge. Electronic glitch and distortion whiz by and, much like with Sunn0))), subtle shifts happen in slow motion, mostly buoyed by guitar notes and string manipulations. Most of the first track stays like this until the end, where the guitar intersects the landscape more frequently, fading back into the background hum. This murky, frightful tone is really only a warm-up for the next song, "Forest Floor 1." Fans of doom metal will dig the thicker noise; clangy looped feedback, layered with low frequency strums, sludges through dark glitchy ooze. Apocalyptic electronics sounding like a heart-stopping metallic scrape will make you think your stereo is possessed.
SUNNO)))-worshippers alert! 1/2 of that drone metal behemoth, our pal Stephen O'Malley (who has also piloted or participated in such units as Khanate, Burning Witch, Ginnungagap, Teeth Of The Lions Rule The Divine, Thorr's Hammer, Fungal Hex, Lotus Eaters, etc.) has travelled to Europe to collaborate with Austrian experimental digital noise artist Peter "Pita" Rehberg! They're calling themselves KTL because the music they made is to be the soundtrack to some sort of stage piece called Kindertotenlieder by performance artist Gisele Vienne and novelist Dennis Cooper ("Closer") due to debut at a festival in France next year. Judging from the music, not to mention the people involved, we imagine it's gonna be beautiful, but also somehow disturbing and dark... This cd certainly is.
It starts off with the 24 minute drone "Estranged", blissful and spooky piece that builds towards its end to noisier heights, threatening the storms to come on this album. And yes, the four parts of "Forest Floor" that take up the main, middle part of the disc are a harrowing journey indeed, into a buzzing, claustrophobic realm of dangerous digital sonics and heavy drone, like SUNNO)))'s lugubrious riffage mixed with the glitchy crunch of Pita -- which is what it is, of course! Not for the faint of heart. Part four, in particular, sounds like a doomed prop engine airplane rumbling over a dark forest landscape from some black metal album cover, at night...
Finally O'Malley and Rehberg wind things up with the quieter (but still creepy) 13 minutes of "Snow", a softly pulsing, detailed improv exploration of lowercase sounds... Very nice!
Let's hope KTL isn't just a one-off collaboration, we'd like to hear more from these two! Their mastery of minimalist ambient music, electronic glitchology and Earthy guitar sludge make a fine sipping brew.
Bei dem Gemeinschaftsprojekt von Peter Rehberg und Stephen O'Malley von SunO))) und Khanate, geht es durchweg heftig zur Sache. Das Duo tischt uns einen dröhnenden und dronenenden Zwitter aus Elektronica und Black Metal auf, geschrieben für eine Theaterproduktion von Gisèle Vienne und Dennis Cooper mit dem bei Gustav Mahler entlehnten Titel Kindertotenlieder. Lange, finster brummende Nummern loten alle Klänge aus, die mit der Hölle auf Erden assoziiert werden, doch Fieses und Erhabenes liegen hier dicht beieinander. Wie dumm, dürften sich manche Eltern denken, dass es bei CDs keine »FSK 18«-Einschränkung gibt, doch Kids hören sich so etwas ja sowieso nicht an - KTL sind viel zu sophisticated, um die Gelüste pubertierender Metal-Hörer zu befriedigen. Sie verhalten sich zu konventionellem Black Metal wie Flipper (die Band!) zu konventionellem Punk. Und das ist gut so. mb
Khanate is dood maar dat weerhoudt Stephen O'Malley er niet van om zijn gitzwarte experimenteerdrift op andere vlakken bot te vieren. Op KTL smeedt hij een verbond met Peter Rehberg. Samen brengen ze een soundtrack bij Kindertotenlieder, een theaterproductie van Gisèle Vienne en Dennis Cooper.
KTL tries to bring together grim black metal riffing with electronic / drone music. Putting together the talents of Stephen O'malley( Sunno))), etc) and Peter Rehberg(Pita). I'm sorry to report it's some what of a grim mixed bag, going from grimly beautiful to well to plain boring.
It seems we can’t escape the influence of a certain Steven O’Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate) at the moment. Not content with giving the world countless albums of horrifically enjoyable doom drone, he has now decided to team up with one of the world’s most influential purveyors of extreme computer music, Editions Mego boss Peter Rehberg aka PITA. There has always been a big difference for me between the world of computer-aided noise which Mego had made it’s core sound and the more rock influenced noisy abstraction that has bubbled up to the surface with help from musicians such as O’Malley. Not just in sound but in the philosophy and the attitude behind it, where one camp would push the realms of what it is possible to listen to, the other would at most times sound like people just trying to make any kind of sound – it just came out pretty damn noisy for some reason. It is interesting then to hear this collaboration purely from a historical standpoint; the two musicians reside in seemingly totally different areas of the musical spectrum, yet on listening to KTL it seems like a match made in heaven (or maybe hell…). We begin the journey with ‘Estranged’ – a 25 minute exploration into gothic ambience, which maybe edges closer to Burzum’s ritualistic (and prison-bound) electronic work or the icy cave-scapes of Thomas Koner than the ear-bludgeoning noise-fest you’d expect. Slowly O’Malley’s guitar is introduced, creaking and scratching its way into the sound field and coming up to the fore only briefly in the final quarter of the piece. A nice way to lull the listeners into a false sense of security, this cavernous chunk of gloom is followed by the first part of four ‘Forest Floor’ tracks, which with a skeletal finger ushers us into O’Malleys black-metal inspired world while allowing Rehberg to conjur up wobbling sub-bass frequencies and horrifying electronic noise. The second part pushes us more definitely into Rehberg’s world as distorted squeals erupt over O’Malley’s bass drones; this is extreme music as it should be, all-encompassing and visceral, rich in imagery and deadly in it’s statement. By the time we reach the third part our bodies are already battered and sliced to ribbons so we are pushed beneath a thick swamp as Rehberg processes the sludge and doom so synonymous with O’Malley’s name and makes it sludgier and… well… more doomy. This is where you realise this is music that simply must be played at a high volume. Like Tim Hecker’s incredible ‘Harmony in Ultraviolet’ the distortions and computer-processed sounds only reveal themselves when the decibel level pushes the point of discomfort. The fourth and final part of the quadrilogy is probably the closest to ‘proper’ black metal, with heavily distorted riffs bursting through the crumbling noise and coming across like a Xasthur track playing in a room next door, I keep expecting Malefic’s throaty groans to appear horrifically on top, but they never come. Now the disc takes a turn, after the narrative epic that was ‘Forest Floor’ we are heralded out of the album with ‘Snow’, a track which to me sounds what I imagine it would be like to be trapped in an underground storage unit in Siberia. It’s frightening but at the same time strangely beautiful, and as chains clank and metal scrapes against metal you become somehow drawn in to the intense imagery that has been left exposed. The density of the previous tracks is sidestepped for a more minimal approach which strangely enough enhances the terror and dread felt across the whole disc. ‘KTL’ is easily one of the most involving and simply horrific discs I’ve heard this year; it marks a disparate new phase in doom music and is the finest exploitation movie you’ll never see. A huge recommendation.
This collaboration between Peter Rehberg and SunnO))) guitarist Stephen O'Malley was commisioned for 'Kindertotenlieder', a performance piece by french choreographer Giséle Vienne and US author Dennis Cooper. The title translates as 'Songs On The Death Of Children' and derives from a series of 425 poems by Friedrich Ruckert (1788-1866), written after two of his children died in 16 days. The poems later inspired a five-part song cycle by Gustav Mahler, who noted the 'five songs are intended as one inseparate unit, and in performing them their continuity should not be interfered with'. The same can be said of the six movements of KTL's piece, but while Mahler's cycle was steeped in the ultimately redemptive language of late Romanticism, KTL seem more concerned with the immediate horror of child mortality and the turmoil unleashed within polite society by such instances of 'unnatural' death.
Although I feel an instant connection with Stravinsky's music, other discs take a while to sink in and suss out. En Concert à la Salle des Fêtes (Mego, dist. by Forced Exposure) preserves an all-star improv session by the quintetAvant, who play vintage Revox tape recorders and analog synths. I gave up figuring out who does what several weeks ago; the presence of composer Lionel Marchetti and Metamkine honcho Jérôme Noetinger offers few clues. Collectively, the quintet creates a turbulent soundscape of delectable crackles, tape smears, barking dogs, static pulses, and warped, wobbly bells. The techniques of En Concert hark back to Pierre Henry's mid-'70s Futuristie LP while using the sonic materials of today: hi-fi field recordings and a vivid, up-close mix made possible by digital recording.
Questa registranzione, datata maggio 2002 e partie integrante del festival Musique Action di Vandeoeuvre-les-Nancy, è un'inconsueta e radicale performance che richiama alla mente gli esperimenti pionieristici nel campo della rappresentazione live della musica concreta. Il suono del quintetto si basa infatti sul dialogo serrato fra i tre registratori Revox a bobine utilizzati da Lionel Marchetti, Jérôme Noetinger e Jean Pallandre, integrato dal lavoro di raccordo dei synth analogici di Marc Pichelin e Laurent Sassi. Il misurato incastro di frequenze lancinanti, brandelli di nastro, pause e fortissimi produce momenti di notevole fascino, evocando il mitto dell'age d'or della musique concrète, ma è pur vero che comprimere nella dimensione stereo una performance originariamente basata sulle potentialità della multidiffusione risulta operazione penalizzante, poiché annulla gran parte degli elementi prospettici e tridimensionali del suono.
Ernst Krenek isn't a name much dropped these days, but 30 years ago in 'Horizons Circled' he described how the electronic medium lent itself "to a kind of controlled compositional improvisation much more readily than the realm of live sound because the composer can mould the sound material while he is creating it". That's approximately the ethos of QuintetAvant, fronted by tape-spinners Lionel Marchetti and Jèrôme Noetinger, with Jean Pallandre operating the third reel-to-reel, Marc Pichelin on analogue synthetizer and laurent Sassi handing the digits
Vier absolut kieferbrechende Improvisationen von fünf altehrwürdigen Franzosen: Laurent Sassi, Jean Pallandre, Marc Pichelin, Lionel Marchetti und Jérôme Noetinger traten 2002 auf dem Musique Action Festival auf und zeigten wohl jedem jungen Hasen im Publikum, wie mit analogen Synths, Tapes und allerhand anderem altem Equipment soviel elektroakustische Spannung erzeugt werden kann, dass eigentlich jeder neusten Software nur bleibt, schüchtern den Kopf einzuziehen. Die Protagonisten scheinen sich im Schlaf zu verstehen, wechseln, verweben, unter- und verbinden ständig ihr Können zu einer uneinheitlichen Masse kratzbürstiger Sounds, die in ihrer Heterogenität schließlich genauso schlüssig rüberkommt, wie 'ne schmachtende Robbie Williams-Ballade. Natürlich aber anders rum, aus der Perspektive von hinten oder Draußen, als Musik noch wild und wichtig war und unerlässlich schreien durfte.
ed [*****]
Somehow somewhere Vital Weekly missed out on the first release by Quintet Avant, the LP only 'Floppy Nails', which in retrospect is a great pity. Quintet Avant is indeed a five piece band, of five French musicians playing their analogue synths, microphones and old reel to reel tapes: Jerome Noetinger, Lionel Marchetti (together already a strong duo), Jean Pallandre, Marc Pichelin and Laurent Sassi. Four years ago the played at the Musique Action festival in Nancy (which is a long running festival for anything improvised) and is now, finally, available for home consumption. These five musicians all share the fact that they are highly skilled musicians, have a set of fine ears to respond and aren't afraid to play a louder card. This ended up after all on Editions Mego, which means that something 'soft' is in the book, but not in capitals. Throughout the five pieces, Quintet Avant plays a bunch of strong streams of noise. Feedback waves about, which is picked up by a bunch of old analogue tapes, feeding off through synthesizers and thrown around like there is no tomorrow. This is foremost improvised music, but not for the weak of hearth (you can control the volume, but you can't kill it). No onkyo playing, but harshness throughout, forceful and playful. This is not an usual product of noise, howling from the first second to the last, but a solid interplay of sounds. It may appeal to the fans of Merzbow of course, but the audience could be much wider, from the noise heads to those who have a more daring mind in improvisation or loud electronics. A furious release, not to be missed. (FdW)
The story is of five major players in the French improv / electronic / electro-acoustic scene coming together at the Musique Action Festival to make a serious racket through a mix of digital interrupts, analogue synths and tape. This CD documents their efforts.
It was five years ago when Tujiko Noriko originally released her second album on the Mego imprint, a label famous for its many laptop-oriented artists. The album, Shojo Toji, received mixed reviews. It's not surprising; Tujiko is a tremendously eccentric artist who writes bizarre lo-fi bedroom electronic ditties while channeling Yoko Ono and Bjork in equal measures. It's not the type of record you can listen to twice and get a great grasp on what it is you're experiencing. It's not quite IDM, though: It's a different type of pop music, filtered through the chaos of Tokyo's downtown streets, with its flashing billboards, and hectic pedestrian traffic. And five years later, this reissue serves as a gentle reminder of Tujiko's incredible talent.
Ristampa dell'omonimo album del 2001 con aggiunte le cinque tracce che stavano nel successivo EP "I Forgot The Title" dell'anno seguente "Shojo Toshi+" presenta quella che sono forse le migliori performance di sempre della musicista giapponese, delicate canzoni da laptop che hanno insegnato a molti europei come produrre suoni cibernetici 'dal volto umano'. Suggestioni ed exoicismi post-lounge si mescaolano a evidenze fiabesche ("White Film", "I Love You") e technoidi ("Bebe") tra distornsioni e glitcherie fornendo il quadro di un Giappone meno oleograficamente occidentalizzato di quanto si pensi: la grazia con cui la grana filmica dei suoni adombra una narratività peculiare e difficilmente ridicibile a 'soundtrack' ("Machi No Kakera", la bellissima "Porsche"), la surreale oggettivazione del caos organizzato della megalopoli ("Tokyo"), la mai risolta crisi? (crasi?) tra antico e moderno ("Girl Meets Boy", "Robot Hero"), sono aspetti che in molti hanno cercato di replicare senza riuscirci perché, appunto, esportabili diffucilmente almeno quanto i deliri noise di Merzbow o le recenti visioni cosmiche dei Boredoms; ma anche quando, vivecersa, pare essere Tujiko as assumere sembianze 'occidentali' ("Anti Newton", "Pop Skirt") fate attenzione che nel dettaglio l'apparenza è capcissima di ingannare (e poi "A's Travelling è solo sublime).
Five years after its initial release, the Austrian Mego label, now titled Editions Mego, decided to bring back Tujiko Noriko´s “Shojo Toshi”, remastered by Marcus Schmickler and including five bonus tracks previously released on a limited 12” EP.
Shojo Toshi was the second album from artist Tujiko Noriko, and when it arrived on Mego Records almost five years ago now, people thought it somewhat strange that an album with such a pop (relatively speaking) bent could find a home on the label known for its mind-bending laptop artists. Sadly, the album went out of print, but now it's back, remastered and expanded with an extra 5 tracks from a 12" release of hers that's even harder to find.
Compiling the original 2001 album with additional tracks results in a near perfect introduction to the world of Tujiko Noriko. The cover has her battling the forces of mediocrity and commerce, comic book style. This cut'n paste method fits perfectly with her music: disparate textures held together by her voice.
Shojo Toshi was Tujiko Noriko's debut, and it established a template for her subsequent output, a mix of solo and collaborative work and theatre soundtracking. Most of Noriko's songs set up, and then methodically take apart, the stereotype of the delicate and naive Japanese girl singer. Hence the juxtaposition on "Bebe" of whimiscally breathy vocals and vicously desiccated beats. On "Tokyo" Noriko's voice is drowsy, as if she's slipping in and out of consciousness and devising a backdrop of randomly advancing steel bars at the same time. Or "Endless End", in which a luminous synth line squiggles free of an disquieting loop, offering a wormhole into recesses of Noriko's musical imagination.
Nach Pateras/Fox und Heckers Doppel-CD schon der dritte Release auf Editions Mego. Natürlich eine klasse Idee, das bezaubernde Album der Japanerin von 2001 jetzt wieder zu bringen, inkl. der 5-Track EP "I Forgot the Title". Marcus Schmickler hat das Album neu gemastert, alle 15 digitalen Pop-Kleinodien knupern noch mehr als zuvor und haben keinen Deut ihrer Frische eingebüßt. Nach ihrem ersten Album außerhalb Japans folgten rasch Releases bei Tomlab, FatCat und room40. Shojo Toshi ist aber ihr experimentellstes Album geblieben und bei weitem auch ihr Bestes.
A full eight months after it comes out, I finally manage to nab a copy of this elusive fucker of a CD. Seems like the Tate Britain (where the exhibition of Angela Bulloch's installation was held) have bought most of the copies of this and held them in storage. Presumably for our own well being; regular doses of Hecker have not been recommended for maintaining good health.
This is a perplexing and exhilarating release. It begs so many questions, and offers few answers: can a soundtrack designed for a specific space retain any of its semantic weight when divorced from that location? How does the conscientious listener assimilate something this formless and abstract? How does Florian Hecker conjure up that piercing whistle, the one that sounds like a thousand fingers being rubbed around a thousand damp, brittle wine glasses?
Vienna-based boffins's latest avant-garde emission.
Released three years after Anthony Pateras and Robin Fox's collaborative debut, Flux Compendium unveils a seasoned duo, more tempered and detail-oriented than before. Coagulate was a one-two punch: well composed and entertaining, but raw and in your face. For this second outing, the two electronicians toned down the harsh noise in favor of a more discreet — and intriguing — sound palette. It seems these two can build impromptu compositions out of any type of sound: breath, belches, coins, laughs, doors, and yes, even pure electronic tones. The album was clearly sequenced with entertainment value in mind, and it works. First off are five short pieces (two and a half to four minutes) showcasing the duo's punkish attitude and creative conciseness, in a field where the nonstop 70-minute set is the norm. Then comes "Perilymph," 13 minutes of finely chiseled tones choreographed into a strong — if somewhat more conventional — electronic composition. After this more serious interlude, listeners are back to lighter material with "Olfactophobia," a piece of musique concrète for the mouth and nose, replete with breathing sounds and fat belches — a 21st century version of Ron Geesin and Roger Waters' Music from The Body, perhaps. The album concludes with a noisier piece that moves closer to the duo's first CD. The balance between playfulness (or pranksterism) and so-called seriousness makes Flux Compendium surprisingly easy to listen to, especially for a release on Mego, a label noted for its challenging offerings. One of the really good experimental electronica albums of 2006.
François Couture
From the ashes of the defunct Mego label comes Editions Mego. This is their first release and on the strength of the violent opener, it sounds like it's business as usual. Australian improvisational duo making agressive noises as if they're trapped in some binary frozen tundra. I mean, what the fuck! Doesn't it like never drop below 30°C over there?
Still at least there seems to be some over-arching sense of piss-take going on. Evident with track titles such as 'Apocalypse Now & Then' and 'Flex & Belch'. Not all ear-bashing though; movements like '$2.50' splice eastern gongs and metal fumblings into a delightfully random play. The highlight is the micro-tonal extravangza that is 'Perilymph': thirteen minutes of pure digital dread.
Deux Australiens, l’un comme l’autre avec un background ou une actualité de compositeur. Ce duo fait suite à “Coagulate” sorti chez Synaesthesia.
Anthony PATERAS, au piano préparé, voix et électroniques. Robin FOX (par ailleurs expert en déviations et recherches vidéo), derrière un écran d’ordinateur, dans le rôle de l’agitateur transformateur.
First and maybe obvious point. This magnificent disc has to be listened to at full volume on a proper hi-fi, not headphones or incar stereo. That way the sonic terrorism of the opening track comes at you full force, and the subtler effects of subsequent tracks aren't lost in environmental sound. Pateras and Fox are a terrifying soundart double-act from Melbourne's outer suburbs - Pateras produces the material on keyboards or as here exclusively, vocalising, and Fox processes the result in real-time on laptop. I was misled to some extent by the CD blurb: "Equal parts postwar beard and modern patchnocrat…two of Melbourne's hairiest sons nosedive and writhe in their unique take of sonic totalism, rising out of the muck with their kaleidoscopic best." You might be too if you don't dig beneath the zany humour that's such an attractive part of their act. Don't take it without argument that sounds of slurping reflect the pair's eating habits, or that the oral noises should have invoked a Parental Advisory sticker.
Le label autrichien Mego devient Editions Mego alors que MDOS (Mego Direct Order Service) semble avoir disparu. Premier disque à sortir sur ce « nouveau label », cet album collaboration entre les deux australiens Anthony Pateras et Robin Fox montre que Mego a toujours les mêmes valeurs esthétiques et musicales. Flux Compendium se pose aux croisées de la musique concrète et du sabotage digital échevelé. Fox et Pateras y alternent sonorisations d’objets ("$2.50"), monochromes digitaux ("Perilymph") , modulations analogiques perverses et bruits de nez et bouches : notamment sur "Throat In Three Parts" qui fait le lien entre Henri Chopin et les punkeries électroniques saturées de Masonna.
Glasklar und brillant spielen die beiden Australier mit dem sound, der immer da ist: Münzen klappern zu Boden oder in die Schüssel, absonderlichen Kehlengesang, lautes Schniefen und Schmatzen kann sowieso jedes Kind, Drones und fehlerhafte Technik hat eh jeder auf der Harddisk etc. Keiner aber tritt so locker auf und überläßt dem Sinn zum Spiel soviel Raum wie Pateras und Fox. Herrlich frisch und extrem knackig produziert kommen all diese versumpften Sounds, die genausoviel glänzenden Sternenstaub versprühen wie dein Opa mit Dünnpfiff aufm Klo. Der Otto, der hier spritzt, kommt aber wesentlich rasanter als alle Darmaktivität. Denkt euch das vibrierende CD-Sloppen eines Yasunao Tone mit dem unbändigen Nonsense von Evil Moisture und der eher verdeckten Hinterhältigkeit eines Florian Hecker und ihr seid verdammt nah dran an der Pracht.
On the new (?) Editions Mego label (but which catalogue number continues the
old Mego numbering) a new CD by two from down-under. Both of them are active
members of the improvisation scene, but it's never quiet with these guys.
Anthony Pateras played the piano on one of the best discs of improvised
music of 2004, his trio with Sean Baxter and David Brown (see Vital Weekly
427). Here he gets the credit for voice, synthi A, mixing desk, electronics
and objects and Fox for computer, programming and controllers. So let's
assume that whatever sound Pateras generates goes into the digital world of
Fox - and so far nothing new. It's stuff that a lot of people can see on a
monday night downtown in the improv bar, but let me assure you that this is
entirely (well, almost entirely) different. Whereas the monday nights are
filled with precise, delicate swoops and sweeps, things are here, certainly
in the first five short tracks, in uptempo mood, with the voice playing some
role of importance here. It's where musique concrete and punk shake hands.
The next three tracks are lengthier, taking the speed out of the record, or
perhaps provide a moment of rest. I prefer to think the first which is a
pity, since I would have loved to see a record of punk length (33 minutes,
14 tracks) of this kind of stuff. 'Perilymph' is almost drone with it's
processed sine waves, but comes from a different, more serious world. It's a
good piece, but a bit out of place. The other two lengthy tracks are a like
that, although in a more noise related realm. Again nice tracks, but it's
like a different album - like a two in one album. Overall the music is
highly vibrant and a boring moment doesn't come in sight. (FdW)
THE WIRE, JANUARY 2009
Pateras and Fox make impressive use of a wide range of analogue and digital equipment, inclduing vintage analogue synths, reel-to-reel tape recorders and the inevitable laptop. Bur despite the predominantly high information level, one senses that, five years on from their debut release 'Congulate', the duo are more prepared to take their time and let their material follow its nose instead of bludgeoning it into smithereens. The closing 'Hyperbole' builds impressively through nearly eight minutes with a composerly feel for pacing and dynamics, and its forlorn fadeout leaves the listener clam and curious instead of gasping for breath.
Dan Warburton
eMEGO 093
Angel: Hedonism CD
Patient pronounced dead at scene with head wound resembling prism. Patient to be known as John Doe throughout report. Doe was listening to Angel -Hedonism at time of death; possible cause of death? Hedonism created by sound lab technicians Dirk Dresselhaus and Ilpo Väsiänen over five years ago. First album together.
-Nayt Keane
AQUARIUS RECORDS UPDATE. 26.01.2009
The broken rhythms, grinding textures, and piercing pulses of tracks like "Holding Loose" and "Dropping The Ego" contrast with the more contemplative nature-sounds field recordings heard in the mix towards the end of the album, for a much more varied listen than Kalmukia.
VITAL WEEKLY 654
THE WIRE, DECEMBER 2008
The final two tracks were recorded at Väisänen's cottage in Karttula in northern Finland and represent the rural wing of the album. That said the faint samples of insects, fisheating mosquitos and birds stand no chance against the rising liquid metal wall of electronics which drowns them out. 'Hornet' appears to represent hazy, bucolic quiet but the air of tension it preserves is justified as, at its conclusion. it is strafed by the roar of low flying jet aircraft. Despite the bias in favour of the black and the noise and the metal, this is a powerful collection, crying out to be 'installed' in either country or city.
David Stubbs
BAD ALCHEMY, 11/08
D-SIDE, 11/08
Jean-François Micard
DeMEGO 005
ibitsu: foolproof betters fools bettering foolproof... CD
THE WIRE, JANUARY 2009
David Stubbs
BOOMKAT, 24.11.2008
VITAL WEEKLY 652, 11.11.2008
eMEGO 092
Peter Rehberg: Work For GV 2004-2008 CD
D-SIDE, 10/08
Jean-François Micard
TRAX, 10/08
OL 9/10
OTHER MUSIC UPDATE, 13.11.2008
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 06.11.2008
DUSTED, 03.11.2008
The use of synthesizers on Works would suggest a new direction for Rehberg. That’s not the case, though. Instead, it represents a refinement. The digital glint and finely tuned storm of shrapnel might not be so prominent, but the irreducible logic with which Rehberg constructs his pieces is still present. What’s changed is that he’s distended his vocabulary of jagged chord fragments, stuttering rhythms and knife-edge static, turning it into woozy, indeterminate shapes that are nearly (but not quite) unmoored. “Slow Investigation” is 13 minutes of heavy, stretched-out mass, put through relentless mutation, and pocked with tonal debris. It’s immersive stuff, utterly captivating, and very unstable.
However, there are more than sonic aesthetics to be examined. The content of Vienne’s work is, to say the least, morbid. Jerk takes as its subject matter the murder spree committed by Dean Corll in 1970s Texas. On “ML3,” Dennis Cooper relates a story of extreme domestic violence. Without going into details, it’s deeply unsettling, more disturbing than any of the sonics on the album, and makes one question why you’re listening to it. Cooper’s other texts here (the perverse relationship described on “ML6” and the bleak imagery on “Black Holes”) are just as disheartening, if not as harsh. Not having seen Vienne’s works, I can only imagine, based on photos and descriptions, their effect. Based around the (non)interaction of music, text, movement and puppetry, they seem to depict a world where nothing is safe, not even one’s body, and especially not one’s relationships.
Rehberg, and by extension Editions Mego, specializes in this discontent. It is present throughout his catalog as a barely concealed menace, a sense of violence lurking everywhere. Even the flickering theme of “Boxes & Angels,” seemingly lifted from some early-’90s acid-house track, can’t escape the desolation. For 11 minutes, it perseveres as Rehberg filters it again and again, compressing it and decompressing it, each pass violating it just a little bit more. It’s a subtle violation, but a violation nonetheless.
A society with this kind of subtext is not a healthy one, and art that would ignore it could be seen as dishonest. The works of Vienne and the music of Peter Rehberg, then, are very honest, and are not meant to entertain us; they are meant to challenge us. If you walk away unmoved, or undisturbed, then something is not right with you.
Matthew Wuethrich
IMPOSE, 29/10/2008
Several of the tracks feature extracts from Dennis Cooper’s libretti, read by the writer himself. Divorced from their contexts, the passages are subsumed by the music–rendered abstract, Cooper’s deadpan enunciations an instrumental foil to the HD of Rehberg’s sound design. Yet they also root the music in the real world and impose material significance on it. The incendiary, distorted drone that erupts from the narration on “ML6″ becomes the expression of the violence of Cooper’s text, its whoosh and grind an extension of the fragmented tale of treachery.
The highlights of the record though are without doubt textless pieces. The awkward, measured synth melody of “Slow Investigation,” with its microtonal shifts somehow joining the dots between Vangelis and Harry Partch, breaking into processed harpsichord and abstract glitch crackle then floating a cloud of melancholic chords over the top, gilded with high-frequency shimmer. Or the sinister intricacies of “Murder Version,” which mixes gongs, bells and lo-end rumble with whistling and mechanical ticking, embedding you in the mechanism of a giant clock. The highlight of highlights is “Boxes Of Angels,” which sweeps a dappled, air-combed pad of heartbreaking harmony through filter vortices, wrapping itself around you like a warm wind and bearing you to the heavens.
The material on this record is more than capable of standing on its own two feet, without Vienne’s productions to prop it up. It is testament not only to the aesthetic unity of Peter Rehberg’s music, but that of his label Editions Mego, which has gone from releasing glitch electronica in its early days, through to the heavy drone of KTL (Rehberg’s duo with Stephen O’Malley) and recent noise releases by Kevin Drumm and Prurient. Work For GV 2000-2004 is tantamount to a demonstration of the consistency of these disparate sounds with each other.
Nick Richardson
FOXYDIGITALIS, 29/10/2008
The short introductory piece on here, "Murder Vision" is a version of a track previously released by Jonathan Capdevielle and Catherine Robbe-Grillet, and it is intended as a tribute to Alain Robbe-Grillet's film "Glissements Progressifs Du Plaisir". And indeed: This release shares one major weakness with the work of the French nouveau realiste, whose literary work I greatly admire. While criticizing bourgeois culture, both Robbe-Grillet and Rehberg/Vienne risk falling prey to their own subject matter: Vienne's puppetry and Rehberg's (subdued) electronic noise are operating within the same cultural framework that they try to unmask.
Back to the music, which is atmospheric and suggestive enough for home listening. This cd presents a selection of Rehberg's work for Vienne's "I Apologize" (2004), "Une Belle Enfant Blonde" (2005), and "Jerk" (2008). It doesn't come as a surprise that the tracks are mostly cinematic. Narrative elements exist, but are only sparsely put to use. Together, the eight tracks cover a wide array of atmospheres: The pieces for "Une Belle Enfant Blonde", including the 13-minute "Slow Investigation", bathe in forlorn synth meanderings, whereas Rehberg's work for "I Apologize" is much more harsh, and in the case of "ML6" bears more than a passing resemblance to his signature track "#3" of his own "Get Out" album. "Black Holes", another track for Vienne's 2004 project, is a sombre meditation of guilt and angst, based on an insisting percussive pattern that is not characteristic of Rehberg at all.
It's fascinating to realize how electronic music, puppetry, literature, theatre and dance come together in the projects documented here. But no matter how well some of these tracks work, one wishes to experience the real thing, the original theatrical production. This should have been a DVD. 7/10
Jan-Arne Sohns
THE GAP, 10/08
Martin Mühl
THE WIRE, OCTOBER 2008
Since Peter Rehberg relaunched Mego as Editions Mego in late 2005, the label's focus has incrementally shifted from the multiple variants of laptop electronica which brought it justifiable renown in the late 90s and early noughties, towards the frequently overlapping spheres of noise, Industrial, Doom Metal and improvised electronics. Mego is indelibly associated with Fennesz, General Magic and Farmers Manual. Editions Mego favours Kevin Drumm & Daniel Menche, Prurient and KTL
With this rebranding has come a detectable if less obvious shift in Rehberg's solo recordings, most of which are released under the moniker Pita. A cursory comparison between the crystaline textures of his 1996 debut 'Seven Tons For Free' and the murky, recondite sonics of the most recent Pita release, 2007's 'A Bas La Culture Marchande!', tracks Rehberg's evolution. Where the music of Fennesz, his nominal contemporary, has plainly atrophied with time - witness the depthless confections of 'Venice' and his woefully banal collaboration with Ryuichi Sakamoto - Rehberg has sharpened his focus, discarding the date-stamped glitches associated with his earlier solo material. As the ferocious barrages of his '(One) Snow Mud Rain' duo with Marcus Schmickler make clear, Rehberg has amplified the complexity of his music, whilst freely varying it's density and retaining its inherent volatility.
Rehberg's collaborations further make this case. Six or seven years ago he was working in a glitch-heavy duo with Ramon Bauer and a laptop trio with Fennesz and Jim O'Rourke. These days he collaborates with Stephen O'Malley of SunnO))) in KTL, and has just released a duo with Z'EV.
There's also his soundtrack work, most it commissioned by French choreographer and pupeteer Gisèle Vienne: there's some distance between the leaden narcotic assault of KTL (a duo originally convened to soundtrack Vienne's 'Kindertotenlieder') and the soundtracks Rehberg recorded as DACM for her dance pieces 'Showroom Dummies' and 'Stéréotypie'.
Since 2004, Rehberg has used his own name for his soundtrack work and for group collaborations - 2005's 'Fremdkörper', produced for a work by choreographer Chris Haring, and a couple of one-off group reocordings in the electroacoustic Improv vein. 'Works For GV 2004-2008' compiles material he generated for three Gisèle Vienne productions: 'I Apologize' (2004), 'Une Belle Enfant Blonde' (2005) and 'Jerk' (2008). Rehberg's most diverse and surprising album, it documents him developing the vernacular of the Pita 'Get Out/Get Down/Get Off' trilogy, forcing it to cope with new surroundings and to bend to the dictates of different artforms, shedding unnecessary or outmoded sounds along the way. The range of registers that results illustrates both the elasticity of Rehberg's vocabulary and his ability to adapt it to a broad range of contexts.
Like Vienne's 'Kindertotenlieder', each of the three productions employ texts written by Dennis Cooper, whose novels' numb, fractured narratives relocate the concerns of Georges Bataille and Jena Genet to a suburban American dystopia populated by irreparably damaged, thrill-seeking teens, affectlessly abusing substances and each other. Cooper recites his texts on three of the four 'I Apologize' tracks in a monotone blanched of emotion, his deadpan delivery clashing with the exrtemity of the texts, generating a jangling tension which Rehberg subtly grooms. 'ML6' is a horrific murder narrative which Rehberg follows with a crushingly intense yet intricately detailed noise barrage, as though trying to expunge malevolent thoughts. On 'Black Holes' he meshes rebounding percussive loops with swarms of high pitches, dropping in a startlingly propulsive rhythm before cutting to a spectral Cooper mediation.
Rehberg's discreet hum on 'ML3' foregrounds Cooper's text, a manipulative junkie hustler's neurotic spiel whose self-nullifying conclusion is met with a sucker-punch detonation. The mood shifts abruptly with the fourth, 'Angels And Boxes', the album's biggest ear-opener. Near-anthems have sporadically infiltrated Rehberg's albums - recall 'Get Out's third track and 'Get Off's 'Like Watching Shit On A Shelf' - but neither approaches this. a syncopated phase pattern worked into a throbbing rhythmic anti-mantra which bleeds delayed gratification and half-remembered Techno euphoria.
'Une Belle Enfant Blonde', an exploration of 'the relationship between natural and artificial bodies and the idea of disturbing strangeness' (the cover artwork depicts macabre half-human mannequins, decorously avoiding the listeners gaze), is represented by two signature Pita snippets - the bristling electronic surfaces of 'Murder Version' and the ethereal drone of 'Pia' - seperated by another surprise, 14 atypically dreamy minutes of 'Slow Investigation', which nervily doodles morose synthesizer chords, swaddling them in a fog of reverb before worrying blurred melodic loops and high-pitched chimes into a swooning, limpid drift whose lack of edge is itself unsettling. The sole excerpt from 'Jerk', which uses puppetry to tell the story of Dean Coril, a serial killer who murdered more than 20 boys in Texas in the early 70s, is five minutes of 'Final Jerk', which repurposes 'Get Down's 'Acid Udon', shrouding its squalling theme with an eerie perquel.
The linkage offers a discreet reminder that Rehberg's recent solo work develops the language of his earlier solo recordings in a logical and consistent fashion. 'Works For GV 2004-2008' could easily have been a disparate grab-bag of unrelated recordings. That it coheres so strongly is testament to the depth and flexibility of Rehberg's vocabulary and the unerring precision with he applies it, as well as his refusal to allow his music to stagnate. It cements Rehberg's posistion as one of the most perceptive and mercurial sound artists at work today.
Nick Cain
DeMEGO 004
Z'EV vs PITA: Colchester CD
Torsten Schäfer
THE WIRE, SEPTEMBER 2008
The fiendish multi-instrumentalist density of 'Spirit Transform Me', z'ev's kabbalistic envisionings with Oren Ambarchi for Tzadik, is also eschewed for a 'straight' duet between laptop and percussive armoury. 'Colchester' is the product of several months' worth of fileswapping and a series of dates in Vienna and around the UK. As such it has the looseness of something fundamentally live and extemporaneous, but with the complexity of dialogue you find in a long-running conversation between familiar friends.
It's some ten minutes before z'ev make his presence distinclty felt. 'Colchester' begins with off kilter foghorning that's quickly filtered into a more elaborate kind of atmospheric wrongness. Frequencies loom up like watery leviathans, before gongs and plate metal textures thicken the sound. Both Pita and z'ev set up and play on a kind of middle ground: gongs and junk instruments, struck with mallets, can stretched from the sharp retort of 'percussion' into a dense timbral blur, and Pita manipulates sounds into a consonant metallic drone.
Dynamically, 'Colchester' unfolds like a roiling, eddying weather system; a trope which may be a little worn in relation to this kind of noise, but one z'ev has resorted to himself , in scorning reference to a journalist who'd called his work violent: "He's probably someone who cowers during a thunderstorm."
Sam Davies
PNG, August 2008
André
SPEX, AUGUST 2008
Rehberg kommt gerade recht frisch aus der Zusammenarbeit mit Stephen O'Malley, mit dem er das Projekt »Kindertotenlieder« (kurz: KTL) von Schriftsteller Dennis Cooper instrumentierte. Während KTL jedoch musikalisch hinter den hohen Erwartungen immer ein wenig zurückblieben, gelingt Pita mit »Colchester« (EditionsMego) nun ein Album, das man stilistisch ebenfalls als ðdüsterÐ beschreiben könnte, wenn man sich denn mit solch kurz gegriffenen Attributen zufrieden geben möchte. Was das vorliegende Material vorantreibt, ist das nach wie vor vollkommen außergewöhnliche Geschick von z'ev, fast alleine mit den Mitteln der Percussion eine bedrohliche Stimmung zu schaffen, deren Kern sich bei aller Deutlichkeit nur sehr schwer greifen lassen will. Auf die Spitze getrieben wird dieser Effekt auf der vorliegenden Aufnahme durch die Tatsache, dass es in der Wahrnehmung schwierig ist, den scheppernden bis rumpelnden Einsatz der Becken und sonstigen Instrumente vom klanglichen Drumherum zu trennen. Diese oftmals diffuse elektronische Ummantelung scheint sich zudem zu einem großen Teil aus Hall zu produzieren, was der Musik eine äußerlich dumpfe, geradezu gespenstische Fülle verleiht.
Den beiden Urgesteinen gelingt es zudem, diesen einnehmenden Charakter durchzusetzen, ohne jemals überhaupt auf die wirklich aufbrausenden Eigenschaften von Noise zurückzugreifen, die jeder von beiden nach Belieben hätte abrufen können. »Colchester« bleibt jederzeit einem behäbigen Tempo verhaftet, das letztendlich eine ungemeine Kraft entfaltet. Hier liegt die zweifellos vorhandene Brutalität dieser Aufnahme begründet: in der ätzenden Monotonie der dargebotenen Stimmung, in der gleichbleibenden, verlockenden Kargheit der musikalischen Motive. Nach 36 Minuten ist der Spuk vorüber, und z'ev vs. Pita hinterlassen das große Fragezeichen, das augenscheinlich unfokussierte Musik dieser Sorte so inspirierend machen kann: Was war das? Wo kommt das her? Und warum klingt etwas, das sich gerade in der unmittelbaren Erfahrung so schwierig einordnen lässt, überhaupt so attraktiv? Angemessenerweise endet »Colchester« vollkommen abrupt.
Kai Ginke
eMEGO 091
Prurient: Arrowhead CD
Originally recorded in 2004, Arrowhead consists of three squelch-and-sustain tracks built by high-pitched microphone feedback, challenged only by spasms of drumming and the mutilated screams of Prurient mastermind Dominick Fernow. He infamously employed a similar approach-- a thin, powerful shriek of feedback that slowly warps and expands until it blooms into a boundless abyss-- on "Roman Shower", the brazen first track from his 2005 Load Records debut, Black Vase. Though exceptions abound, much of Fernow's recent output has been more "song"-oriented, meaning only that the settings have generally been shorter and less of a standstill (see the excellent Pleasure Ground or the second side of Adam Tied to a Stone).
In that historical setting, Arrowhead-- recorded the same year and in the same city as "Roman Shower"-- links many of the facets of Prurient's sound. In the first two tracks, Fernow gradually intensifies sinister, relentless rays until, like "Roman Shower", they become pained, bloody wastelands. The third and shortest track lunges forward, slowly becoming caked in static and sliced by feedback similar to that heard during the first 27 minutes. All the sounds smear, wiping across the speakers like a grimy, gory mess. Imagine Daniel Menche pushing the Fuck Buttons on speed, for four minutes, and you get the point. Together, these tracks-- "Sternum", "Ribcage", and "Lungs"-- show us where Prurient had been in 2004 and where he was delightfully going.
If this release serves as an introduction to Prurient, it'll be a trial by fire, but one well worth the burns. Sure, you'll find noise "bigger" than this, but you'll find little that's so dramatic and masterful. Listen for the control Fernow wields over his electronics as he grapples with the tone, letting it slide into chaos only to bring it back under his hand. There's a violent, lacerating ebb-and-flow to this work that's as nauseating as it is enrapturing.
Both in his Manhattan record store, Hospital Productions, and through his record label of the same name, Fernow peddles the most extreme black metal, a genre that-- at its best-- delivers an idea without apology and with exhaustion. Prurient sounds little like black metal here (with its drowned vocals and saturated, tidal murk, Cocaine Death-- another excellent 2008 release from Fernow-- does; and he's in a black metal band, Ash Pool), but Arrowhead functions in much the same way: Its stylized, specific, and unflinching sound roars with a singular menace, at once terrifying and captivating. These performances sound like the sorts of pieces that happen when every ounce of trouble the performer has gets sweated, bled, and screamed into the cutting room floor. Re-reading that sentence, I'm afraid I've made Prurient's searing power-electronics sound, well, emo. And I suppose, in the end, it is. But for 31 minutes, Arrowhead should keep you too fixated (or, as it were, repulsed) to care.
Grayson Currin
EXCLAIM, 06.11.2008
Eric Hill
ALL MUSIC GUIDE, 26.09.2008
François Couture
PREFIX MAG, 03.09.2008
Made up of three tracks and clocking in at just over a half hour, Arrowhead is, much like Prurient's other releases, an ultra-concentrated blast of high-frequency feedback, gurgling screams and ominous percussion. The fact that the album is released on Peter Rehberg's Vienna-based Editions Mego label seems to confirm what many listeners already suspect: that there is something oddly refined and suggestive about Dominick Fernow’s music that sets it slightly apart from the straight-up terror antics of units like Hair Police and Wolf Eyes.
From the first two minutes of piercing mike feedback, Arrowhead sets a measured tone that never goes for all-out, hysterical assault. Fernow's focus is on implication and concentration, leaving behind the graphic lyrical imagery of his clearest influence, the English power-electronics group Whitehouse, but preserving their unyielding hardness and their S&M aesthetic.
Beginning with "Sternum" and progressing through "Ribcage" and "Lungs," the album gradually gains distortion, thickening across the audible spectrum as it progresses. The range of frequencies and textures explored on Arrowhead, and particularly on "Ribcage," draw a link, appropriately enough, with Rehberg's work as Pita, in particular his path-breaking Get Out album, recently reissued Editions Mego. Arrowhead represents a kind of conscious step forward for Fernow: Although it lacks the thematic consistency that Pita flirts with, its focus on process over sheer power comes closer to narrative than he has in the past.This is unusual in a scene that is generally hostile to both rock and avant-garde expectations of progress. Surprising, too, given that the basic tracks were recorded in 2004, when -- thanks to Thurston Moore’s championing Wolf Eyes, Magik Markers, et al. -- extreme music seemed like it might have some slight commercial potential.
Listening to the album, I was struck by how little gestural content it has: Fernow is known for his frenetic, mike-jabbing live performances, but it’s very difficult to attach the sounds from the album to any sort of physical movement. Feedback modulates up and down unexpectedly, sometimes frothing, sometimes not, and the percussion that punctures “Sternum” and “Lungs” constantly subverts its own momentum instead of resolving into a propulsive rhythm. Even Fernow’s howls are buried under a thick patina.
The recording as a whole is crystal-clear -- as far as noise records go -- and the album’s sense of micro-dynamics are often riveting. Coming out on the other side of Arrowhead, I felt as taxed emotionally and physically as if I’d sat through a three-hour-long Tarkovsky movie: Unsettling and unexpectedly ravishing in equal measure, Prurient’s latest is as accomplished an album as his followers have come to expect.
Brandon Bussolini
FOXY DIGITALIS, 03.09.2008
Arrowhead opens with ‘Sternum’, a twelve-minute epic of unnerving feedback over heavily restrained primal percussion. At halfway the track disintegrates with asthmatic vocals that cry out in whooping coughs. There is no where to hide making this is on of the most unforgiving listens you are likely to hear. It sits well on Peter Rehberg’s Editions Mego label, continuing the exploration into the uncomfortable side of noise and experimental electronic music.
Ribcage has a rougher sound, intricately distorted with cut-glass precision. Screaming annihilation adds a secondary level to the direct focus of terrorised noise. Towards the last five minutes clearer and more crystalline sounds are pitched and interwoven with decayed distortion. By the fourteenth minute, one begins to feel agitated, frustrated and hot, as the frequency induces repulsion and anger.
Lungs rounds things of with a wheezy exhalation that gains momentum with a deeper noise pallet reminiscent of KK Null. Harrowing wind blasts through the microphone as if one is travelling at an incredible speed. With all its aggression, the final track arrives as a partial relief from the harrowing noise of the first two. A recommended listen for those able to endure the painful side of noise, but approach with due care if the sound of finger nails against a blackboard make you wince. 7/10
Peter Taylor
DUSTED, 02.09.2008
Musically and symbolically, there is very little subtlety in what Fernow does. The titles are blunt metaphors outlining sudden violence: the Arrowhead of the album title piercing first the “Sternum,” then the “Ribcage” and finally, the “Lungs.” The first consists of a pure feedback tone, its relentless thrust broken only by a tumbling drum kit. On the second, the laser of feedback slices its way through howling, static-choked scuzz. Lost somewhere in the mix is the voice of a man. The visceral stomp of the final track compacts these ideas into a dense four minutes, the tempo accelerated, the feedback and static bound up into a potent bundle, the drums throbbing out a pulse. The contrast between this final blow and the rest of the album suggests some kind of transformation. But from what and into what aren’t clear. No more specific narrative suggests itself.
At 30 minutes, Arrowhead is concise in its aggressiveness, and the high frequencies stay just below the pain threshold (provided that the volume is kept at a modest level). In a live setting, this approach can become close to unbearable. On record, however, it produces a nauseating thrill, the same sickening rush one has in the aftermath of that spinning rotor ride at carnivals where the floor drops out and you stick to the wall. A dull ache in your head, your stomach slightly queasy, the world titled off its equilibrium, and two questions, hanging in the air, remain: “Why did I do that?” and “Would I do it again?” Asking these questions releases hungry ghosts in the psyche – vulnerability, embarrassment, paranoia, fear – emotions that provoke the most introspection.
The in-the-moment experience of Fernow’s music is all physical; the aftershock is almost all intellectual, the specifics of the apparent transformation provided entirely by the listener, who is left standing not so much accused as self-implicated. The assault – and that’s the best word for something that is so aggressive and so calculated – is not outward but inward. “I want to die with you,” Fernow groans at one point (italics mine). Fernow shoving the mic down his throat is not the same as if he’s doing it to the listener, because as listeners we choose to subject ourselves to his gestures – it’s as if we do the shoving to ourselves. So Fernow’s act becomes, perversely, a compassionate one. He understands very well the discomfort his music produces, and he understands the urge to resist that recoil, to stare the pain down and see what it can show.
Matthew Wuethrich
ROCK-A-ROLLA, 09.2008
Scott McKeating
BRAINWASHED, 31.08.2008
This particularly applies to the first track, “Sternum,” a stripped down nerve-shredding 12–minute dive into the night-black depths. Simply composed of squealing and humming electronics (but set at a low volume), sparse percussion and vocals that bleed anguish, it nevertheless touches nerves with its unaffected directness. The simple lyrical refrain of ‘I want to die with you’ does an effective job of exposing the horror of a personal hell of frustration and despair. Inwardly spiralling psychoses and mental phantasms assail from all sides, and whatever sliver of sanity or normality was there is finally eroded away. The deterioration and degradation is palpable. This is emotional despair and a mind at the end of its tether at its absolute rawest. Combined with that insistent insectoid squeal it drills itself right into the brain and sets the teeth on edge.
If “Sternum” is pain and anguish, then “Ribcage,” the second track, is about the aftermath, the eventual mental dissolution and destruction: a cacophonic maelstrom of screeching electronics and feedback, interspersed with screams; the swirling chaotic randomness portrays a mind breaking down into incoherent atomisation. This is what it must feel like to descend into the depths of the long night of the soul, or to stand on the threshold between safety on the one side and a bottomless chasm on the other. There comes a point where the track quietens down a degree or two, a place perhaps where that threshold exists, and one almost gets the feeling that all is not quite lost here. Any such illusion is soon shattered, as the track once more breaks out into a storm of noisiness. The only way is down into the illimitable and lightless subterranean depths.
The last track, “Lungs,” is a bit of a departure from the other two pieces, principally because it introduces the notion of rhythm. Rhythm is all the more surprising because of its complete absence anywhere else on here. However, extending what I have said above, I guess it makes a species of sense in its own way. I can imagine, after having plumbed the utmost deeps and having reached a kind of equilibrium, that the mind gets wrapped up in a mental inferno of its own making. Carpeting the primitive tribal rhythm is a thick layer of granular sheeting which is entirely descriptive of the furnace roar. Indeed, a self-created (and self-perpetuated) hellish purgatory.
Noise and power electronics only hold my attention if the artist has an approach that takes him/her off the well-trodden path. Fernow, while using the tools and palette of the genre, manages somehow to at least bend the material to do his bidding, and to attempt to say something new. For the most part I feel he amply succeeds, and listening to this was a welcome change to the Spinal Tap-style ‘turn everything to 11 and record what comes out the other end’ typical of the genre. In the course of writing about Arrowhead I must have heard it about a half-dozen times, and in every instance there was some new subtlety that revealed itself. Prurient is definitely one of the more creative of noise musicians, unwilling to blindly tread the same path as others do. On this example at least Fernow shows what can actually be done with noise, with a little thought and some creativity and talent.
Simon Marshall-Jones
SONIC SEDUCER, 09/08
Sascha Bertoncin
THE WIRE, SEPTEMBER 2008
Fernow wields feefback as weaponary, but he's also well aware that purity and simplicity are the most effective means to psychological disturbance. As 'Sternum' slowly unfurls, piercing feedback scours your eardrum; it's somehow simultaneously bracing and suggestive, Fernow using barely wavering light beams of noise to suggest entire architectural designs, the feedback carving out space witihin the composition. Yet the feedback's claustophobic closeness to the limits of your hearing lends it real, corporeal impact. Where noise sometimes goes nowhere, its apathetic walls of violence aim at 'abrasion for abrasion's sake': the feedback of 'Sternum' is eerie, and combined with Kris Lapke's drums, echoes ritual pacing.
The wrecked screams of the following 'Ribcage' are comparatively gauche at first, but their interaction with instability of distressed and overloading mics and amplifiers ultimately renders them thrilling, as though his throat is fused ot circuitry. Here, Fernow's body is a conduit both for and of electricity - naming 'Arrowhead's three pieces after body parts suggests that's how Fernow would have it too.
Jon Dale
WESTZEIT, 08/08
Karsten Zimalla
SPEX, 23.007.2008
Fernow evoziert einen rohen Minimalismus, indem er ausschließlich Mikrofon-Feedbacks, Perkussionsinstrumente und seine Stimme benutzt. Das Eingangsstück »Sternum« versinnbildlicht dieses klangliche Wagnis und unterzieht den Begriff ðHören mit SchmerzenÐ einer radikalen Revision. Prurients Musik wird zu einem qualvollen Hörerlebnis, hervorgerufen durch einen statischen Feedback-Sound, der von zufälligen rhythmischen Schlägen durchkreuzt wird. Hinzu kommen Fernows Vocals, die mal beklemmend flüstern und im zweiten Stück »Ribcage« in voller Intensität gegen die mittlerweile chaotisch aufbrausenden Feedback-Stürme anschreien - ein unzähmbares Kräftespiel, das der asketischen Klanglichkeit des Openers diametral entgegensteht. Im letzten Teil »Lungs« verschieben sich dann die musikalischen Koordinaten. Die Rhythmik gewinnt - obgleich ihrer metrischen Verunreinigen - eine konstante Form und wird augenblicklich von einer rauschenden Lärmschicht eingedeckt, die alsbald das gesamte Geschehen dominiert und die Platte abrupt beendet.
Interessant ist festzustellen, dass alle drei Stücke auf der archaischen Gewalt der Rückkoppelung basieren, die in jeweils unterschiedlichen klanglichen Ausprägungen erscheint und sowieso ein zentrales Moment in Fernows Œuvre darstellt - sie repräsentiert eine akustische Flagellation.
Raphael Smarzoch
HAIR ENTERTAINMENT, 15.07.2008
SPEX, AUGUST 2008
Kai Ginke
OCTOPUS, 13.07.2008
Fabrice Vanoverberg
eMEGO 013
Russell Haswell: Second Live Salvage 2x12" vinyl
As a recording, it refuses fidelity and settles for a rawer, more honest approach. But not necessarily honest in the sense of let all the warts show – honest in that Haswell acknowledges these pieces as past, exposing them to the degradation and mutation inherent in memory and history. The six live performances here are also entirely improvised, but Haswell himself hasn’t let the past be, making their audio verité surface an illusion.
Any nod to meaning outside of the physical nature of the sounds is also denied. Each piece is identified only with overly specific running times, the year of recording, venue name and city (“16:02.84, 2002, Schirn Künsthalle, Frankfurt”). To highlight the visceral nature of this music, Haswell has taken music produced digitally and released it in analogue form only – the official album is vinyl only, while the promo copy is a cassette.
But refusal is not the heart of the project. Second Live Salvage refuses so much that the question of what it’s for becomes inevitable, and forces a transformation on the music that is as palpable as it is powerful: from live recording to a priori composition; from digitally generated performance to analogue object; from unmarked sonic sculpture to a flood of liquid metaphor.
Attention to the album’s seeming indifference to fidelity and any usual notion of sound quality reveals its most provocative layer. Music is ugly, it says, And technology lies. Upon realizing this, all the issues mentioned previously fall away, and the record becomes a conflagration of metaphors: of the evolution of computer technology from an esoteric science to a populist tool, of the loss of communication when information becomes a glut, of society in collapse.
Even the crowd noise takes on new meaning. This is, remember, a salvage of times past, not a document of what happened. In Kita Kyushu, the meager applause at the end is laughable, and turns acidly ironic. In Brighton, the audience chatter competes with Haswell’s roar, another stream of information to try and assimilate. We hear one man yell: “My ears are bleeding. I love it!” For him the experience was physical, for us it’s something other. If not intellectual, then at least cerebral, something that, even as it denies reality, forces us to let the real world in, with its vast imperfection and messiness. Ultimately, Second Live Salvage becomes art that contains what composer Iannis Xenakis said all good art does: “truth immediate, rare, enormous, and perfect.”
Matthew Wuethrich
D-SIDE, 07/08
Jean-François Micard
VOLANIC TONGUE NEWS, 28/06/2008
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER 27/06/2008
THE WIRE, JULY 2008
Haswell insists that, rather being a deliberate conceptual strategy, his notion of salvage arises out of more prosaic realities - he didn't have the proper recording eqiupment at the time, or was too busy preparing and performing the music to arrange for it to be recorded professionally. Nonetheless, by ceding authorial control in this way, Haswell gives the album a conceptual context, addressing it by default to issues of representation: his salvages become subjective thirdhand reconstructions of imperfect secondhand representations. His emphasis on the method of production is by default a form of process music.
Haswell's focus on process is echoed in his use of technology. As he explains in his liner notes, all the recordings 'document my attempt at filling space with something physical and intense using Computer Music softwares as my only tool'. Haswell is very particular about what he does and doesn't classify as computer music software. He favours GENDYN stochastic software pioneered by Iannis Xenakis, which he uses alongside specialised, academically developed programs, eschewing mass market applications. His liner notes list software used to create each track, and by doing so highlight the contrast which underpins the album - between the sophistication of the tehcnology Haswell used during the performances, and the compromised quality of the recordings which represent them.
Haswell uses the software as a tool for real-time improvisation, and both his solo albums illustrate his finely calibrated noise sensibility. 'Second Live Salvage', however, focuese more exclusively on the kinds of sound relationships one associates with the vocabulary of computer music and its attendant idioms. '10:53.82, 2002, Färgfabriken, Stockholm' is an exercise in oscillation of tones, multiplied and amplified to gale force levels. '08:12.14, 2000, Engine Rooms, Brighton' illustrate Haswell's trademark rapid shredding and recombination of sounds, producing probing swarms which abrade each other in erratic, pulsing rhythms.
The textures which reult are finely serrated, seething with granular detail and pockmarked with flurries of pitch manipulation. '05:08.62, 2006, Point Éphémère, Paris' even ends with spiralling, solarised frequency, the closest Haswell has ever come to good old fashioned ring modualtion. The album concludes with a suitably oversaturated collaboration with Incapacitants' Toshiji Mikawa, but 'Live Salvage's debt to Japanese noise has mostly worked off. Where 'Live Salvage' documented gigs in small, packed venues, its successor's performances took place in larger, emptier spaces. Consequently the sound is thinner and more fibrous, concentrated within a narrower dynanmic bandwidth, with less mid-range density.
Interviewed in The Wire 285, Haswell explained that his music is in part a search for extremities of sound, motivated by the deisre to provide its listeners wiht new exepriences. '16:02.84, 2002, Schirn Kunsthalle, Frankfurt' gets closest to realising this goal, kneading jagged fragments into oppresive stuttering percussive patterns, an impressively unpleasant barrage. But to frame the music in this context locks the interpretative experience is a closed loop, as well as obsuring Haswell's abilty as an improvisor. He is undoubtedly aware of the pitfalls of such a mindset, though his liner notes he does describe a couple of tracks as 'chaotic-noise-generation', which is true, in a strictly literal sense. But if 'Second Live Salvage' is to be thought of as noise, then its a dissenting variant, one which allies Haswell with the mercurial, restless spirits lurking at the genre's fringes: Kevin Drumm, Joe Colley, Lasse Marhaug, John Wiese.
The album is more accurately considered alongside two of 2007's most potent (and overlooked) recordings, Marcus Schmickler's 'Altars Of Science' and his collaboration with Peter Rehberg as R/S, '(One) Snow Mud Rain'. Like 'Second Live Salvage' both endevavour to transplant computer music from its culturally stratified academic ghetto into a new, less stable context. Equally strong parallels can be drawn with volatile experiments which light up computer music's early period of development: James Tenney's early 60s digital synthesis software compositions, mid-60s to early 70s Pietro Grossi works like 'Collage' and 'Computer Music', and Gottfried Michael Koenig's 'Klangfiguren II' and his abrasively brilliant late 60s 'Funktionen' works. Haswell shares with them an idealistic yet singleminded sense of exploration and an unfettered determination to explore the limits of computer software, as well as a penchant for using software to produce raw sound.
In Haswell's case the sound quality is at least partially due to the comprimised nature of the recordings he is working with. Because their fidelity fails to fully convey the level of detail and information Haswell is working with, 'Second Live Salvage' can only yield clues to his real abilities. He's currently working on a large scale studio construction, which should offer a more accurate representation. Regardless, viewed as a document of a process rather than a polished, finished product, 'Second Live Salvage' is an impressive piece of work.
OX, JUNE 2008
Carsten Vollmer
SPEX, JUNE 2008
Kai Ginkel
eMEGO 029
Pita: Get Out CD
It's great to be reminded how pioneering musical efforts always come with a programmatic element, particularly if they dosn't only reformulate musical codes but employ new technology as well, potentially changing the way we look at technology. That's why the production of the album is called "Initial file management" in the booklet, which also includes liner notes by David Keenan.
In true machine music manner, the tracks are all untitled. While a lot of the tracks here sound like sketches or parts of a laptop diary to me, the eleven-minute epic track # 3 toys with our conceptions of the sublime and is worth the price of admission alone. This anthem is pure computerized romanticism: After 90 seconds of shimmering synth sunshine, malicious distortion tears all harmony apart, only to turn out to be, well, some sort of hookline that won't go away for the next ten minutes and is so brutally beautiful that it has to be heard to be believed. With its dramatic build-up and the gradual decomposition of layers towards the end, "#3" single-handedly spelled out the formula of epic tracks that artists like Machinefabriek, Nadja, Ben Frost and others rely so heavily on. Add KTL to that list, Rehberg's own collaboration with SunnO)))'s Stephen O'Malley.
"Get Out" has been out of print for more than five years. It has been remastered for this rerelease, which also includes three tracks from the Pita / Kevin Drumm 2000 split ep. Quite uneven as an album, but a must-have of sorts. 7/10
Jan-Arne Sohns
OX, 08/08
HAIR ENTERTAINMENT, 15.07.2008
ROCK A ROLLA, MAY 2008
John S.
ROCKERILLE, APRIL 2008
Michele Casella
TRACKMARX, 14.04,.2008
Jean Encoule
FAILME. 17.05.2008
'3' is the track that you'll remember this album for: the jarring introduction of uplifting, almost euphoric strings that slowly descend into overdriven distortion still sounds great. '6' is gigabit data passing through an echo chamber, '9' takes harsh source material and moulds it into hypnotic drone. The three extra new tracks which previously appeared over a split release with Kevin Drumm extend the scope of the original work with distinctive, thematic excursions: feminine glitch ('ce3'), unreliable connections ('pe2') and distressed radio frequencies ('tr1')
Sheikh Ahmed
GONZO CIRCUS, 02.06.2008
GOON, 27.05.2008
Sebastian Hinz
OCTOPUS, 21.05.2008*
Laurent Catala
BAD ALCHEMY, 05.2008
THE WIRE, MAY 2008
Chris Sharp
eMEGO 090
Popol Vuh: Mika Vainio / Haswell & Hecker Remixes 12"
Man kunne forestille sig mange af tidens navne, for hvem det ville være oplagt at kaste sig over Popol Vuh. Genrer som postrock, free folk og indietronica har alle en hel del tilfælles med de gamle tyskere, og i mange tilfælde kunne der blive tale om en givtig vekselvirkning, fordi Popol Vuh netop var så blændende til at kaste sig fuldstændig overbevist og selvfølgeligt ud i det dybe, søgende og mystiske, og samtidig få det til at virke som den naturligste ting i verden og uden at fremstå prætentiøse eller påtagede. Til gengæld var de så også et af de krautrocknavne, som ikke havde den store betydning for den elektroniske musiks udvikling, hvorfor det altså synes alt andet end oplagt, at det er kunstnere placeret solidt i traditionen for abstrakt elektronisk lydforskning, der som nogle af de første begynder at fortolke den potentielle guldåre. De har ikke meget til fælles med den typiske Popol Vuh-lyd, hvor guitar, klaver og diverse etniske instrumenter var arrangeret i cirklende, spindelvævstynde mønstre, og det er da også den mere atypiske Popol Vuh-lyd, som er repræsenteret her, nemlig den rugende, drone-baserede ambient, som især stammer fra de helt tidlige produktioner. Denne del af gruppens karriere har altid haft sine fortalere og fremhæves til tider som deres virkelig radikale og revolutionerende bidrag til musikhistorien, men med undtagelse af debutalbummet Affenstunde, har selv deres mest gennemført ambiente numre en klart harmonisk lyd. Mørke og mystiske? Ja afgjort, men aldrig harske eller utilnærmelige.
Haswell & Hecker satser sikkert og har med "Aguirre I" valgt et af de bedste - og bedst kendte - numre fra den mystisk-ambiente ende af Popul Vuh-kataloget. Problemet er bare, at de ikke har så meget at tilføje. Med spøgelsesagtige mellotron-kor og en stemning af nærmest ekstatisk tilbageholdt spænding er originalen svær at eftergøre, og endnu sværere at forbedre, og remixet her virker da også lidt ideforladt. Der er i det store hele tale om, at originalnummeret overlejres med nogle skærende stik af atonal digitalstøj og så ellers får lov til at stå mere eller mindre uændret. Måske er det en bevidst strategi om at skabe kontrast mellem det varmt analoge originalspor og så de abrupte digitaleffekter, som unægtelig kommer til at fremstå meget moderne og anderledes, men det kunne også være, at det bare det nemmeste trick at hive op af posen, når man ikke aner, hvordan i alverden man skal få en vekselvirkning frem med et så stærkt og unikt nummer. Sagen er, at remixet lyder som om, at det er den sidstnævnte tilgang, der er brugt, og så er det jo lidt underordnet, om der faktisk ligger dybere overvejelser bag. En enkelt gang eller to er det, som om det nye element faktisk tilføjer noget fascinerende og uventet, men det er kun glimtvist; for det meste er der intet egentligt samspil mellem delene. Digitalstøjen virker påklistret og uinspireret, og når nummeret alligevel giver en følelse af at høre noget godt, så er det primært fordi originalen er så fremragende som den er, og samtidig står urørt i en stor del af remixet.
Som Haswell & Hecker har også Mika Vainio valgt et nummer fra et af Popol Vuhs mange soundtracks til Werner Herzogs film, men til gengæld har han bestemt ikke valgt en af de helt store klassikere som "Aguirre". "Nachts: Schnee" stammer fra Cobra Verde-soundtracket, som kom længe efter storhedstiden i halvfjerdserne og ikke just går for at være et af gruppens centrale værker. Tværtimod har det lidt af en outsiderstatus, fordi det er præget af frontmanden Florian Frickes eksperimenter med ny sampleteknologi, og følgelig adskiller det sig rent teknisk fra det meste andet i karrieren. Der er således tale om et ganske interessant nummer at hive ind, og samtidig også et mere oplagt sted at starte når man som Vainio har et elektronisk udgangspunkt, men en stærk repræsentant for Popol Vuhs unikke lyd og vision er det så omvendt heller ikke. Man kunne ellers sagtens forestille sig, at Vainio havde en interessant vinkel på de klassiske mystiske numre, for der har netop altid været en kerne af noget mystisk og uudgrundeligt i hans statiske hyperminimalisme. Det kommer bare ikke rigtig ud her, og sært nok lyder remixet mest af alt som halvfemser-ambient. Med sine brede, tågede synthlyde og sært pulserende effekter er der både lidt Biosphere og lidt Future Sound of London over det, og det kan jo være fint nok, blot er det ikke ligefrem det mest spændende, man kunne forestillet sig opstå i mødet mellem Vainio og Popol Vuh. Selv om remixet egentlig er OK, er der altså heller ikke her tale om, at projektets potentiale indfries, og pladen virker alt i alt som lidt af en forspildt chance - intentionen er god, men udførelsen mangler en smule kant og indre nødvendighed. Man kan så bare håbe, at andre vil følge initiativet op og lade mere Popol Vuh-beslægtede navne prøve kræfter med de gamle mystikere.
Jannik Juhl Christensen
OX, 08/08
SPEX, 04.2008
Kai Ginkel
BRAINWASHED, 23.03.2008
Klaus Kinski features in Aguirrre, and his cinematic presence carries a potent threat. Mostly he just stares, leans to the right, sways, plots, and orders violence. By the end of the journey he is surrounded by corpses, adrift on a raft; ranting that he will conquer all of South America, marry his own daughter, become immortal and such like. The descent into madness begins to emerge when a native plays the pan pipes as Kinski turns his back to the camera and squirms uncomfortably. Maybe I was projecting a hatred of pan piping but the scene gave me the feeling that Kinski was pretty close to actually beheading the musician in order to cut off the Peruvian pollution at its immediate source. Amen.
Werner Herzog based Cobra Verde on The Viceroy of Ouidah, by novelist Bruce Chatwin but, as usual, disregarded the source material at will. Mika Vainio's version of Popol Vuh's music fluctuates between sudden metallic surges, cracking pauses, hypnotic waves of static, and silence. Again, the unsettling, scintillating piece probably matches the film’s trek into morally ambiguous territory, led by an increasingly dubious tour guide. Cobra Verde was the last collaboration between Herzog and Klaus Kinski who told his director: "We can not go further. I am no more." Four years later, Kinski was dead.
This splendid release is pressed on red vinyl and packaged in a plastic sleeve with a golden sticker.
Duncan Edwards
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 21.03.2008
PITCHFORK, 18.03.08
Mark Richardson
D-SIDE, 03/08
Jean-François Micard
ROCKDELUX, 03/08
THE WIRE, APRIL 2008
David Stubbs
DeMEGO 003
Stephen O'Malley & Attila Csihar: 6°FSKYQUAKE CD
Thomas Sander
TAZ, 13.03.2008
Sunn O)))-Gitarrist Stephen O'Malley und der ungarische Death-Metal-Sänger Attila Csihar (ehemals Mayhem) haben für eine Ausstellung des Bildhauers Banks Violette eine achtstündige Surroundsoundinstallation entworfen, die für die CD-Version nun auf 40 Minuten eingedampft wurde, wobei sich O'Malley vornehmlich um das Gedärm seines Verstärkers kümmert. Von da holt er zwei Morton-Feldman-artige Tiefkühltruhentöne ans Dämmerlicht. Einen hohen, fiependen und einen subsonischen Brummton. Man denkt noch, wie kläglich, dann haben sie sich schon ins Gedächtnis geairbrusht.
In einer Tabelle im Booklet sind die Frequenzen der beiden Monster exakt berechnet. Dass sich O'Malley dann doch zu einem Druckwelle-Riff erweichen lässt, hat nichts mit dem Einsatz von Attila Csihar zu tun, der "Toten-Aufwecker" als Berufsbezeichnung angibt. Die Vocals hat er im Keller seines Schlosses bei Budapest aufgenommen. Der Hall dort ist so sinfonisch wie die Luft sauerstoffarm, was Csihars Schwarze-Messe-Stimme gewisse Dringlichkeit verleiht. Ungarisch ist nun nicht als Rock-'n'-Roll-Sprache bekannt, und was Csihar angeht, soll sie es auch nicht werden. "Belépünk a végtelen téren át/A véges idon túlra", ("Wir durchschreiten den Weltraum / Weit entfernt vom Jenseits").
D-SIDE, 03/08
Jean-François Micard
SONIC SEDUCER, 04/08
Sascha Bertoncin
VITAL WEEKLY 614
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 01/02/2008
Gert-Jan Prins: Break Before Make CD
Jean-François Micard
THE WIRE, APRIL 2008
The more one listens to his CD, the more there seems to be to hear, though mostly the sounds are no sooner presented than they're snatched away, to be replaced by something equally tantalising and shortlived. A change of pace and volume occurs on 'Timpani Basso Ritmo', on which he strokes the skins of a timpani with a wet fingertip (at least thats what it sounds like) to produce hollow-sounding low frequency groans, and on 'Rockassymmetrico' he sets up a lumbering rhythm that gets increasingly fractured and distorted in its later stages. 'Longraspgroobve', with which the CD concludes, grooves the way that only machines can groove, ie stiffly, free of swing. I said earlier that 'Break Before Make' seems like a typical Mego release, and thats correct up to a point, but Prins' sound materials aren't selected from a menu offered by readily available music software, they're homemade, very much his own, and the music is all the better for it.
Brian Marley
VITAL WEEKLY 614
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 01/02/2008
DeMEGO 001
Silvia Fässler & Billy Roisz: Skylla CD
Jean-François Micard
Skylla, come anticipano nome e immagine di copertina, è un mostro deforme di elettronica weird e divertita - a tratti autoironica (Silly) -, una sorta di risposta in chiave minore (o in termini di microsuoni) a quei rumoristi d’oltreoceano ancor oggi sulla bocca di tutti (Kirre, Schwarzschild). O, se preferite, una versione digitale e post-umana degli Smegma (Broomgroom, Rusty Spoon).
Forse non sarà supportata da quelle pose superomistiche che, in fondo, hanno fatto la fortuna di gente come Wolf Eyes e Prurient - e dunque difficilmente godrà di quella stessa visibilità -, ma l’esperienza Fässler/Roisz sa regalare nondimeno momenti di puro godimento - percettivo prima ancora che estetico. Edizione disgraziatamente limitata a 300 copie. (7.3/10)
Standard dictionaries on experimental music will provide you with definitions like: If it's loud and distorted, then you can call it Noise. So what, then, is "Skylla"? Its title references greek mythology, its methology hints at improvisation, its aesthetics are minimal and its sounds built from granular waves and sonic microparticles - many will find this plentitude confusing.
The approach of Silvia Fässler and Billy Roisz on their collaborational debut album is well aware of its implications, of course. Obviously, these two experienced players from the Vienese underground have not decided upon their source material on the grounds of "trueness" or street credibility. Rather, their interplay is guided by a kind of concentrated seriousness which has nothing in common with the occasionally puberal gestures of the genre.
Seriousness in this context means: Not straying from the chosen path, sticking to your initial vision and ignoring egoistic aspirations. These ten tracks (plus a 25-second-short opening piece) are consistently made up of surgically clean cuts, white noise drones, parasitic frequencies pitched to the level of tones and raw noise stretched into fluctuating rhythms. Sometimes, birdsong-like melodies will pop up to play twelve-tone scales in random order or a groove will appear from the depths (most noticeably on the slowly simmering "Rusty Spoon"). But most of the time, all elements are engaged in a pristine dance of abstractions, continually engaging and disengaing, as the music cuts through the fabric of banality.
There is nothing organic about this exchange at all, neither in the production or the timbres at the disposal of the duo, nor in their process of communication. "Skylla" remains a cool beast on the outside, screaming minutely chosen syllabels at its crowd, never exploding with rage or drooping its head in despair. Fässler and Roisz have dusted all human fingerprints off their samples and restricted the action radius of their music to a mechanical breath: Exactness is favoured over explicit emotions, rational choices are deemed more important than the thrill of outbursts of intuition.
This technique, on the other hand, allows them to take off to a level of their own. Unbound by traditional means of expression, Fässler and Roisz can let their arrangements develop in any which way they want, change course within the wink of an eye and steer their sounds into subtle and surprising collisions. Most of all, it lends a transparency to their actions which directs attention away from the trivial image of two musicians playing in the same room together and towards nothing but music itself.
By turning towards "Noise", the performers are able to present their ideas in the purest possible form without any external distractions. Played at higher volumes, "Skylla" of course gains a more physical and aggressive tone, which places it side by side with more traditional exponents. But overalll, this album sets the record straight in terms of easy classification: There are worlds of nuances hiding behind the standard dictionary definition in this case.
Tobias Fischer
THE WIRE, APRIL 2008
'Skylla's splintered digital surfaces are contiguous with the lineage of laptop music one associates with the period when Editions Mego was known as Mego. Brittle crackles fray at the edges, sibilant tones are burned and splintered, crackles and hums meshed, decayed and rebuilt. But as the artwork - topographical maps cut and folded into scalene forms - would imply, Fässler and Roisz are surveying this lineage from another angle.
The duo flirt with ananlogue texture: Fässler is credited with guitar, which appears in disguised form on one track, and Roisz with turntable, which is responsible for the undulating loops which periodically surface, adding a structural element to latch onto. A handful of tracks' frantic cut-ups and noise torrents approach the sensory overload, but the activity levels and pace of chaneg are generally kept in check. The two are happy to explore passages of calm or near-stasis, aiding the album's digestibility; tracks like 'Megrim' also hint at an impish playfulness.
Indebted rather than beholden to the Mego back catalogue, Fässler and Roisz succeed in reassessing its idioms from a different perspective. A few of 'Skylla's passages may have you flashing back to 2002, but on the whole its an enjoyable and nicely executed piece of work.
Nick Cain
VITAL WEEKLY 613
Moving in between those parameters, this is quite a nice release, simply because it's not tied to a certain genre, but takes the best of all, and make something of their own in a crude as well as gentle way. (FdW)
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 01/02/2008
eMEGO 087
Angel: Kalmukia CD
At the end of 1943, the Soviet government declared the entirety of its just-retaken south-eastern district of Kalmykia guilty of German collaboration. In punishment, the war-beleaguered, predominantly Buddhist population was completely uprooted and dispersed across far reaches of Siberia and central Asia. The deportation took place with no advance warning, leaving the Kalmyk people without any chance to prepare or gather their possessions before they were loaded onto unheated, overcrowded cattle cars. Without food, water, or proper protection from the bitter cold, a full third of the Kalmyk population succumbed en route, or immediately upon arrival. Those who survived were forced to eke out an existence in harsh and unfamiliar lands; when Khrushchev finally ended the exile 13 years later, few Kalmyks remained to reclaim their homes.
This obscure, chilling episode in Soviet history may or may not have been the inspiration for the debut studio album of drone-noise trio Angel, but it’s easy to imagine it is: Kalmukia is bleak, terrifying, and yet edged in a sense of awe verging on horror (or horror verging on awe). Knowing this story, I can’t listen without visualizing the historic Kalmyk Buddhists, starved and displaced and travel-exhausted, cast down to make sense of their new ice-swept and unfathomably vast surroundings. Or perhaps the album diverges in its interpretation, transmuting the exile, by its end, into a pilgrimage to some site of deadly wonder, some forgotten Kirghiz Light.
Angel may be blandly named—a quick search places them among scores of unsuccessful acts sharing the moniker—but its constituents are anything but boring. The project began in 1999 as a live noise vehicle of Pan Sonic’s Ilpo Väisänen and Schneider TM’s Dirk Dresselhaus (who I’ve severely under-estimated, if such subtlety and atmosphere are within his range), and has since been rounded out by Icelandic cellist Hildur Gudnadottir. Together, the three use the vehicle of drone to spin their stories, but it’s a drone of uncommon vision and scope, from microscopic detailing to monolith force to utter swallowing void.
Overture “Bones in the Sand” is the obvious crowd pleaser here, tethered by sparse but heavy guitar notes trailing away into emptiness. It’s what Earth would sound like with the actual riffs dead and sun-bleached to a mere few notes and the gaps between them, emphasizing the absolute solitude of their pale desert landscapes. As such, it’s the most generic track (apparently Siberia sounds a lot like the American West), but also the most directly enjoyable, and it does stretch its oeuvre into some new territory, particularly when cello takes the reigns near the finish.
The 20-minute title track is a more lingering study of desolation, with a slow cello dirge dropping to rasp, then into a near-subliminal hum of broken electronics, and finally into a silence from which only the faintest of percussive death rattles can break free for most of the duration. Somehow, impressively, without dragging or losing focus for the entire length. The following “Effect of Discovery” discards the previous traces of melody for a study of faintly-tonal texture. When high, whining synth tones eventually rise into the mix, like spotlights raking charred ground, there’s no brightening: the sounds have a certain grandeur, but it’s the dust-blown grandeur of madness.
Closer “Aftermath” diverges from the three preceding tracks by, at long last, brightening and expanding as an insistent rattle of faintly melodic percussion and echoed guitar notes usher in the gleaming, faintly ominous sense of wonder I alluded to before. I tend to be very suspicious of the trappings of mysticism in this sort of sound, cluttered as the field is with sampled world-music monk-chant drivel, but the effect here is much more subtle, mysterious, and perhaps moving. It’s those scattered Kalmyks again, clutching, perhaps at shreds of enlightenment out on the frozen steppe.
The word cinematic gets thrown around a lot these days, but here it’s especially apt. There’s an undeniable narrative arc here, through shadings of windswept isolation and answer-seeking struggle, though the exact nature of it is unclear and perhaps ultimately irrelevant. Don’t care for my Siberian saga? There’s material for plenty more, sparkling grimly amid those string scratches and electronic vibration. With Kalmukia, Angel seems to have created a sort of maximal minimalism, probing deep emptiness through an uncommonly rich variety of elements. There’s no excess here, nothing especially self-indulgent despite the track lengths (together, the four clock in at just under an hour), but simply an extraordinary attention to detail and continuous progression. The blank spaces are still as integral and telling as the filled ones, it just seems that even they are crafted in minute and terrible detail. 8/10
Nate Dorr
XLR8R, 04.08
Cameron Macdonald
D-SIDE, 03/08
Jean-François Micard
ROCKDELUX, 03/08
Anna Ramos
BAD ALCHEMY, 02.2008
RIFRAF, 02.08
THE MILK FACTORY, 17.02.2008
Ilpo Vaisanen (Pan Sonic), Hildur Guonadottir (Lost In Hildurness), and Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM) tie together all of their loose, flying ends, but a great deal of curiosity and tact isn’t shown in the process. With the sharp contrast between the first pair of tracks, a premonition of an album of many threads, crisscrossed here and there, woven into deranged sound structures, devotedly served, rises to the fore. Nothing of the sort happens, though, and the group not only settle into the style of the second, more ambient piece of evil, but they fall asleep in it.
A gooey consistency is maintained throughout the album. Much is happening, but within a rather narrow compass. Thus the slow pace doesn’t mean minimal development. Problematic, however, is that the sedate horror-film ambience is repeated rather than closed in on, and suggested rather than slyly challenged. With few moments of exception, guitar scrapes, rumbles, and judders correspond closely with the dark droning cello of Guondottir, with Vaisanen’s surprisingly tame electronic hatching and shading. There is a certain dexterity in the playing, and indeed it hints at much, a good deal of which hasn’t been advanced upon as of this point.3/5
Max Schaefer
ROCKERILLA, 02.08
Michele Casella
CHRONICART, 03.08
O.L.
EARPLUG, 03.03.08
Jon Dale
THE WIRE, MARCH 2007
The album drifts through distinct phases: four tracks that stretch between 12 and 20 minutes each. It opens with the majestic drawn out riff of 'Bones In The Sand', a dense and engulfing mass of guitars and cello, like crossing for sperading across great plains. The positive grandeur of the opener is quickly surrended in the longest track 'Kalmukia - The Discovery, Wiring, Invasion', in which the outline of an uncomfortable drone is formed, one that sinks and falls as if breathing. Blurres, shallow interference tugs at the skirts of cello tones, distracting then defeating the strings and slowly degenerating to gritty metallic caterwauls and the slide of steel on steel.
'Effects Of Discovery, Test, Alarm, Catastrophy' moves below dround to dwell in an underworld of shadows. It is dominated by deeper strings and the Industrial remnants of the title track. A signature Pan Sonic atomci blast clears the floor for the redemptive glow of a layered build that dominates 'Aftermath: The Mutation'. The output from this collaboration is utterly immersive, the slow drones driving a gradual shift from strings and guitars to harsh electronic tones and feedback. 'Kalmukia' moves from the wide open spaces and panoramic landscapes of the opening chords through to the gloriously grim, darkened caverns of the final two tracks; engrossing from start to finish.
Jennifer Allan
SOUND OF MUSIC, 12/02/2008
När jag läser "Short notations of the Kalmukia Plan" på Angels Myspace-sida är det svårt att inte tänka på Burroughs. Texten handlar om en expedition till "zonen" vid floden Volga i ryska Kalmukia: lokalbefolkningen vågar sig inte dit, platsen ger enligt sägnen upphov till död föregången av en kort tids lycka. Mätningarna som ska göras går naturligtvis fel och katastrofen är ett faktum...
Till skillnad från på Myspace-sidan är orden obefintliga i Angels musik, man lockas att säga att de muterats till ljud. Jag antar att man ska se musiken som ett soundtrack till den korta berättelsen om Kalmukia. Inte minst som låtarna har titlar som "Kalmukia - The Discovery, Wiring, Invasion", "Effect of Discovery, Test, Alarm, Catastrophy" och "Aftermath: The Mutuation". Ljuden formar levande historier där Burroughs ande svävar ovanför likt en "El Hombre Invisible".
Det är mörkt och dystert. De långa dronernas land öppnar sig där tillstånden får tid att etsa sig fast. Statiska sci-fi-landskap möter mer varierade skepnader. Stillaståendet är ett viktigt stadium och rörelser sker oftast långsamt.
Musikaliskt är det ändå inledande "Bones in the Sand" som sätter störst spår. Det känns som att de mörkt formulerade dronerna med elektronik, cello, gitarr och diverse annat inte hunnit att lägga sin grund ännu. I stället tar denna trio - Ilpo Väisinen (Pan Sonic), Dirk Dresselhaus (Schneider TM) och den isländska cellisten Hildur Gudnadóttir - den distade slidegitarren till nya fint melankoliska territorier. Det är som en långsam filmsekvens över vidder av sand och tillstånd av vemod. Och det blir inte sämre när Gudnadóttirs sorgliga cello tar över ljudbilden. Hon krånglar inte till det, utan gör det enkelt och precist med stor känsla.
Även om "Kalmukia" är bra i sin helhet är det lite synd att Angel inte för vidare tongångarna på "Bones in the Sand". Det är här de verkligen skiljer sig från den dronande mängden, och för in nya tankar och tillstånd. De övriga låtarna är hur skickligt utförda som helst och jag gillar att lyssna på dem, spännande detaljer dyker upp ur den vibrerande, ljudligt utdragna bakgrunden, men stämningar känns igen, landskap känns igen och ljud känns igen. Det behövs något mer för att det ska bli lika mästerligt som Burroughs. Men det är å andra sidan väldigt högt satta krav.
"Kalmukia" är det tredje albumet med Angel. Gruppen började som en duo 1999 med Väisinen och Dresselhaus och debuterade 2002 med "Nr 1-Nr 10" på Bip-Hop. De blev en trio med Gudnadóttir 2004 och hon är med på "In Transmediale" som kom på Oral 2006.
Magnus Olsson
BRAINWASHED, 12/02/2008
This misstep is the opening "Bones In The Sand," which tries to ape the current trend of Sunn O))) styled frozen monolith guitar riffs that become the focal point for the listener, drowning out the more nuanced guitar playing and electronic punctuation. The sound is admittedly less bleak and dark than what the robed ones usually release, but it also lacks their sense of theater and exaggeration, so rather than subwoofer rocking caveman riffing, it is more just repetitive chords. As the mix shifts to the more spacious and subtle electronic textures near the end, the level of interesting sounds also begins to increase.
The three remaining tracks that comprise the remainder of the disc more than make up for the doldrums of the opener, however. The rest of the album is more of a lurking, tension filled nod to film score ambience. Both "Kalmukia-The Discovery, Wiring, Invasion" and "Effect of Discovery, Test, Alarm, Catastrophy" are supported by thick, tangible drones of strings that layers of bizarre electronic manipulations are built upon. The former is overall very moody: buzzes of electronics sound like locusts waiting in the distance as the track slowly craws through its near 20 minute duration, becoming more and more tense as time elapses. The latter favors high pitched tinnitus bursts and other unidentifiable textures that somehow evoke a sense of being frozen in time, cold shards of digital sound enveloping the mix.
The concluding "Aftermath: The Mutation" has a somewhat lighter, more organic feel than the darkness of the preceding tracks. Its dramatic opening gives way to a deep thick mix of layered electronics, wobbling synth lines and tweeting oscillator birds flying around the rainforest. Instead of the cold, gray, bleak opening this feels much more organic, natural, and inviting.
Other than the pedantic attempt at drone metal that opens the album, the remainder is a captivating audio film that, without a specific narrative, instead allows us, the listeners, to construct our own meaning and story behind the images that the music creates. It truly feels like a film without the visuals being shown, but are instead created and given meaning by the listener.
Creaig Dunton
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 08/02/2008
WESTZEIT, 02/2008
Dennis Behle
FOXY DIGATLIS, 29.01.2008
“Kalmukia” is, not surprisingly, an amalgamation of the above pedigrees, with the exception of Schneider TM’s typically shiny veneer. Four tracks spreading across 58 bleak minutes, the album often sneaks up on loveliness before veering back into discordant gloom at the last second. “Bones in the Sand” serves up some dusty doom, like a narcoleptic Earth. “Kalmukia—The Discovery, Wiring, Invasion” rides Hildur’s cello along a more desperate Dirty Three mood, while menace and spit gather in the drones. At twenty minutes the track has plenty of time to delve into more abstract, even musique concrète terrain before bubbling to a close.
The cello is what keeps “Kalmukia” from being merely an alien landscape. Its majesty balances the other two members’ dark scraping and droning and makes me really eager to hear Guðnadóttir’s Touch debut. Angel, however, present a worthy beast of their own, with just enough blackness to make me want to throw on some Burzum and just enough ambience to make me not do it. 7/10
Michael Wehunt
VITAL WEEKLY 610, 15.01.2008
OX, 09.01.2008
MY EARS MY EARS, 14.01.2008
I don't have the proper cover for this as it's a promo so I'm not sure how the cover relates to the sounds as Ilpo is credited with "story and drawings," so I'm wondering if this is supposed to be the soundtrack to a story printed on the cover.
The sounds itself are nothing like either Pan Sonic or Schneider TM. The same elements are there but this often veers closer to modern classical than it does to experimental. The whole feel of this album is very subdued and slow moving there's nothing rushed everything moves along at it's own pace. Even the first track with it's use of loud heavy guitar still only moves at a slighter faster pace than say a recent Earth track. It wouldn't feel out of place on Earth's "Hex: Or Printing in the Infernal Method."
The guitar takes a back seat for the middle of the album. Tracks two and three (Kalmukia and Effect of Discovery) are both led by the cello. Kalmukia is a very mournful sounding piece, the cello playing slowly as some background electronics very subtly start to take over the piece. It fades out to five minutes of a restrained collection of taps and ambient electronics. Effect of Discovery starts of sounding like Stockhausen's 1950s Electronic Studies. Again very subdued and understated with the cello starting to make its mark a few minutes in. The whole track starts to get busier with more electronics and a slightly heavier feel to it. The last track Aftermath reminds me of Tangerine Dream around the time of Hyperborea. It has a similar range of sounds to that album with a slightly Eastern tinge to it. Sounds like lots of loose guitar strings going through some delay with some slightly discordant cello sounds behind it. For me this is the weakest piece on the album it hasn't got the slightly sinister ambience of (particularly) tracks two and three and though it's got a nice balance of light and dark it's too uplifting in comparison with the rest of the album. Again I think maybe the cover would explain more and perhaps make it clear why this track sounds as it does.
On the whole it's a good album it's not what I expected having heard Ilpo's solo album of a few years ago but after a few listens it's certainly a grower and it's good to see people step outside the box and surprise you.
eMEGO 082
Marcus Schmickler: Altars of Science DVD+
Some know Marcus Schmickler for his noise-pop outfit Pluramon, where with Julee Cruise he hymned the glories of My Bloody Valentine's guitar sound. However, he's just as likely to turn his hand to sterner approaches, particularly within the realm of academic computer music. 'Altars Of Science' is one such example, and its bracing nature is borne of seriously enigmatic internal logic. Through its 40-minute arc, 'Altars..' teases foreign matter from circuitry and software, weaving tendrils of fluorescent noise from hard drive debris.
Jon Dale
MUSIQUE MACHINE, 05.03.08
The release is split into eight parts running just shy of 40 minute mark all togeather, coming in standard audio and DVD + format so you can really feel it stretching and bending your mind. A lot of the eight tracks start off relatively subdued & stripped down, as he filters past you building-up, accelerating and droning electronic tones, that he often suddenly cuts in and out at the most jarring and brain jerking manner leaving you checking you equipment for faults. As the pieces progresses he lets your mind settle less and less in one place, as he winds out dense nets of strange pulled out and melting harmonic electro structures that shift, morph or suddenly stop. Giving one the feeling that something has gone wrong with your balance and gravity, for Christ sake don't play this after a few beers it could screw you for good. As the tracks progresses they become alot denser and suffocating, like been enveloped by complex techno structures or buildings- this could be the soundtrack to JG Ballard at his most paranoid and techo fearful. Though there are noise elements here it never losers it's control or atmosphere, every element is heard and felt - like trying to feeling your way around some vast shifting complex mathematic shape with your eyes closed.
A brain frying and reality altering slice of electronica - chaotic and deranged yet very controlled, which rewires your brain to Schmickler own sound reality - that seems to deify sonic logic. 4/5
Roger Batty
FLUCTUAT, 22.02.08
Sur The Monstruous Surplus, il revient sous le nom de Pluramon avec le même line up que son précédent album (Dreams Top Rock), incluant la chanteuse Julee Cruise et ses vocaux ultra smooth. Au sommet d'une complicité qui ne cesse de surprendre, les deux interprètes semblent réellement se fondre l'un dans l'autre pour nous offrir une belle tranche de post-shoegazing aérien dont les mélodies subtiles demandent pourtant une certaine qualité d'écoute. En effet, il serait facile de passer à côté des merveilles de cet album de pop toute simple au premier abord. Les arrangements de Schmickler et la voix de Cruise fusionnant souvent dans un wall of noise mélodique, l'ensemble donne parfois à The Monstruous Surplus un air de Mazzy Star enfiévrée (même si Julee Cruise bénéficie d'une gamme vocale beaucoup plus large que sa consoeur Hope Sandoval). Quant à la guitare tour à tour écumante ("Fresh Aufhebung") et étincelante ("The Kids Are United") de l'Allemand, elle offre à l'ensemble une quantité infinie de variations subliminales réellement psychédéliques.
Dans un tout autre registre, celui de la computer music pure et dure, Markus Schmickler sort quasi simultanément Altar of Science, un puits bouillonnant de musique informatique en fusion. Composé entièrement sur ordinateur et conçu pour la diffusion multicanal (en version 5.1 disponible sur DVD audio), Altar of Science oscille entre performance bruitiste electroacoustique, musique contemporaine et stoner numérique d'une densité hallucinante. Hallucinations (sonores) qui ne manqueront d'ailleurs pas d'assaillir l'auditeur de cette ¦uvre difficile, mais salvatrice, en ces temps de musique électronique "tagadatsointsoin". Si "surplus monstrueux" il y a, ne cherchez plus, c'est bien ici que vous le trouverez.
Maxence Grugier
GEIGER, 04/02/2008
Schmickler er uddannet ved musikkonservatoriet i Köln. Han har lavet musik i en række forskellige genrer; decideret klassisk på Demos (for Choir, Chamber Quintet and Electronic Music) (2006), hvis titelstykke anvender fragmenter af tekst fra Nietzsches Also sprach Zarathustra; shoegazer-pop med Julee Cruise (hvis sang man formentlig kender fra Twin Peaks-serien) på Dreams Top Rock (2003), under navnet Pluramon; drone med sækkepiber og elektronik på Amazing Daze (2007), som er et sambarbejde med Hayden Chisholm. Og foruden meget andet - under blandt andre navnene Arabic Sheetpealing, Charms Music Clerk, Christian Daniel, Marcgraf, Param og Wabi Sabi - nu Altars of Science, Schmicklers første rent elektroniske udgivelse siden Sator Rotas fra 1998. Sidstnævnte plade er ikke uden lighed med den hér anmeldte og, skal det siges i forbifarten, kan kun anbefales.
Det er ikke udpræget let at give en rigtig udfyldende karakteristik af Altars of Science. Alle otte numre består hovedsagelig af digitalt lydende materiale. Gennemgående er der et selv på stereo-udgaven temmelig rumligt lydbillede, hvor en mængde separate, alle sammen "kunstige" lyde, i hvert nummer interagerer med hinanden, flytter sig omkring i lydbilledet, støder sammen, etc., hvilket giver et ind imellem nærmest handlingsagtigt præg. Nogen egentlig rytme eller puls er der ikke tale om, det er snarere collager af oftest ret distinkt materiale: hvid støj, sweeps, summende, skrattende og pibende lyde, tøjlesløst uregelmæssige tonegeneratorlyde og enkelte kortbølgeradiolignende brudstykker, hvortil kommer en ret intensiv panorering og oscilleren, enkelte spors vekslen mellem mono og stereo og lignende. Alt sammen på én gang kaotisk og kontrolleret. De stærkeste påmindelser går til japanske Nagata Kazunao og Hado-Hos udgivelser på Zero Gravity-selskabet, der har den samme fornemmelse af "ren" elektronisk lyd og på samme tid præcision og løssluppenhed, om end af en noget mere analog karakter. Dertil kommer, hos Schmickler, et antydningsvist sci-fi-præg, som dog bevæger sig uden om retro-referencerne. Materialet er fortrinsvis abstrakt lyd, i den forstand at det ikke efterligner eller refererer til noget, men som sagt kun fortrinsvis, eftersom der tillige med en antydningsvis maskin-agtighed, som om lydene var maskiners ytringer, på pladens sidste nummer optræder, hvad der dårligt kan høres som andet end simulerede frøer og insekter. Man får altså med den stærke rumfornemmelse - hvilket givetvis i endnu højere grad gælder for surround sound-versionen - indtryk af en art "setting" med interagerende elementer. Og endelig, for også at få dén side af sagen med: Det er i og med alt, hvad der her ovenfor er nævnt, vitterlig godt!
Men vi kan nu ikke længere undgå titlen, Altars of Science, ved hvilken der er noget unægtelig højtideligt. Først og fremmest udmærker den sig selvfølgelig ved sin paradoksale forbindelse af de traditionelle modsætninger videnskab og religion, og det, bemærker man, undgår ikke at være en lille smule "fikst". Men bortset fra det kunne man nu, hvis der skal etableres nogen forbindelse mellem titel og indhold, yderligere forestille sig musikkens maskinagtige lyde som frembragt på disse altre - altså: noget ofres på videnskabens angivelige altre, og lydene er en art biprodukt. Et yderligere aspekt er antydningen af videnskabskritik, dels: Videnskaben har ofre. Dels: Videnskaben indeholder selv et element af sin angivelige modsætning: religionen. Det er ikke til at komme uden om den noget industrial-agtige alvor ved denne titel - det sterile, kliniske, humorløse - som, hvis man kaster et blik på Marcus Schmicklers hjemmeside under "downloads", stemmer lidt for godt overens med den meget alvorligt poserende mand, man her ser. (Og man bemærker i øvrigt, at der blandt disse downloads imod én 11 megabyte-mp3-fil er syv fotografier af MS i så høj opløsning, at de til sammen fylder mere end 150 megabyte.) Der er ingen tvivl om, at intentionen med den megen poseren er at fremstå "seriøs", men beror seriøsitet på at lægge ansigtet i meget alvorlige folder? Den demonstrative insisteren på alvor kan næsten ikke undgå at få det hele til at tage sig noget hult ud, lige meget hvor god musikken er. Man får den mistanke, at hele denne redundans af alvor mest af alt tjener til at overbevise ham selv. Hvis produktets "substans" var hævet over enhver tvivl, kunne han vel stort set have poseret lige så åndssvagt, det skulle være; som det er, får det hele med dets selvhøjtidelighed et umiskendeligt wannabe-præg. Hvem skal det narre?
Og lad os for lige at holde fast i denne ikke uvæsentlige side af sagen lidt endnu knytte et par bemærkninger til pladselskabets omtale af Altars of Science, hvilken nemlig kun underbygger de samme tendenser yderligere. Her læser man: "A fascinating 'tour de force' of modern computer music composition. Intense in its outlook, yet polished in its execution, making it an essential addition to any serious collection of 21st century audio." - Hér tales igen til en forestilling om "seriøsitet", nu blot forbrugerens billede af sig selv som seriøs - endnu et wannabe-element: man er ikke "seriøs", i det mindste er ens "samling" af 21.-århundredes lyd det ikke uden dette produkt. Og videre: "Intense in its outlook" - hvad mener man? Et "intenst" udblik? (Og hvordan kan en poleret udførelse tilsammen med det angivelige intense udblik gøre pladen essentiel?) Hvorfor overhovedet alt det "seriøse" bullshit, når musikken i sig selv er glimrende og i det hele taget ville være langt bedre tjent uden? Når den sagesløse plade i en sådan grad er forsøgt forlenet med seriøsitet, synes det mest af alt at antyde, at den eftertragtede seriøsitet mangler, end at den virkelig er der. Lad os således endelig bemærke det underligt modstridende ved navnet på Schmicklers hjemmeside: Piethopraxis. Pietho er den antikke gudinde for overtalelse, forførelse og charmerende tale, hvilket præcis er, hvad der mangler i Schmicklers selviscenesættelse.
Altså: nøjes med lydsiden. Det er langt tilstrækkeligt.
Thomas Kyhn Rovsing Hjørnet
LIABILITY, 14.01.2008
Altars Of Science ne se veut alors aucunement d'un seul tenant. Pouvant être tout aussi bien ambient que noisy, il privilégie néanmoins les formes expérimentales les plus poussées. Ainsi Marcus Schmickler tente d'aller le plus loin possible avec le risque de se couper de la compréhension de ses auditeurs. A l'évidence, Altars Of Science n'est pas à la portée de toutes les oreilles, détruisant sciemment toute logique dans la conduite de sa musique. De ce fait il n'est pas toujours aisée d'être en adéquation avec les productions tourmentées de l'Allemand mais on ne pourra leur enlever cette force inouïe qui s'en dégage. Altars Of Science c'est un peu une main de fer dans un gant de fer. Rien ici n'est fait pour adoucir l'audition qui, d'ailleurs, ne peut se comprendre qu'avec un fort volume. C'est, certes, inconfortable et sera sans doute considéré comme inaudible par quelques culs serrés mais il faut reconnaître que Altars Of Science est un disque qui ne fait aucune concession et que par bien des aspects il remplit parfaitement son rôle de sculpteur de formes sonores inédites.
PS : il est à noter que Altars Of Science est présenté sous deux formats. On pourra l'écouter sur cd, dans une version stéréo, ainsi que dans sa version dvd 5.1.
par Fabien
DUSTED MAGAZINE, 10.01.2008
Basically, Altars of Science is a multi-part suite (the commercial release also comes with a DVD), with a palpable form that’s compelling and mysterious. It opens with a disorienting cavernous rush, framed by electronic burble. Schmickler doesn’t simply like to play with contrast; he favors interruptions, gaps, almost as if he enjoys problematizing his ideas as soon as he’s laid them down. The record races quickly into a long passage that sounds like squealing bows and excited glass, with jarring dynamic shifts and tension created via near glissandi effects. The ringing and whirring of the first track, combined with its harsh spatial shifts (which create an almost claustrophobic environment) remind me of some of Xenakis’ harsh, early electronic music (hey, Schmickler’s website is called Piethopraxis, after all).
The second piece changes direction, with a continuous stream of sound and disturbing commentary from the margins, like the inside of a barrel scraped with a contact mike. Bulbous bass ostinati seem to be clawing their way into life before the piece gets flayed by digital knives. And by the time we reach the muffled choruses and amplified blades of the fourth piece, I’m more convinced than ever that this is – even unconsciously – some kind of homage to Persepolis (except, of course, for the brief, almost subliminal fragments of Pluramon-style techno). The music whisks you away in its rush and froth: the swirling, polytonal, almost psychedelic head-fuckery of the fifth part; the harsh, tortured balloons of the sixth; and the long, slow cooling down of the closing section.
Richly imagined and realized in detail, Altars of Science is possibly the best thing I’ve heard from Schmickler. And that’s saying something.
Jason Bivins
OCTOPUS, 01.2008
Aymeric Lozet
TOUCHING EXTREMES, 04.01.2008
Massimo Ricci
BLOW UP, DECEMBER 2007
Nicola Catalano
THE WIRE, NOVEMBER 2007
Chris Sharp
BRAINWASHED, 21.10.2007
'Altars Of Science' is a single piece of computer generated chaos, split across eight individual tracks, indexed for ease of listening. The track dives in with the electronic noise, buzzing, distortion, sharp piercing tones, air raid sirens, all things that make for uneasy listening. There is no gentle introduction to science, just a quick dive into the mechanization. The piece begins to calm, if only somewhat, by focusing more in swells and pulses of noise, akin to cars racing by on a freeway, rendered via an old Atari video game. Glitch type outbursts are unexpected and a bit shocking at times, punctuating the mix with even more volume and force. Then, like an unprepared spacecraft re-entering orbit, the sounds begin to come apart, like pieces flying off and burning in the atmosphere, represented through stutters and digital time stretching.
Later, the panning and shifting of the computer-based noise is like a swarm of insects, their tiny wings amplified to defining volumes, coming together to destroy an old mainframe computer a la the kind in Wargames, all flashy lights and meaningless bleeps. The buzzes mix with the dying beeps of the machinery, a bit of nature triumphing over science. The culmination of the disc is a final bit of minimalism, buried clicks and scratches, some stuttering, much more mellow and less aggressive than the previous parts of the work, the calm reflection after the previous storm.
Schmickler’s 'Altars of Science' has enough harshness and chaos to appeal to fans of harsh realms despite being a work of electronic composition. Although he has previously worked in more conventional and pop-like genres, this is purely experimental. It is hard to say whether this is one man improvising with his laptop, or something that was planned, programmed and scored beforehand. In the end, it really doesn't matter worth a damn, because the final result is exemplary.
Creaig Dunton
BOOMKAT UPDATE, 30.10.2007
GROOVE, 10.2007
Christoph Braun
VITAL WEEKLY, 10.10.2007
eMEGO 016
Fennesz: Hotel Paral.lel CD
Stepping back from a dissection in hindsight of Hotel Paral.lel, the music taken on its own is a little distracted sounding but very good nonetheless. It is not immediately captivating (although the buzzsaw distorted guitar on "Dheli Pizza" is nothing if not attention grabbing) but reveals itself over a few listens. The music is split into somewhat noisy abstractions like "Nebenraum" and later a more rhythmical approach is taken. "Szabo" and "Traxdata" both come closer to the Fennesz I know and love. The beats are a little straightforward but the use of texture is what makes these tracks stand out. The breaking up of the sound and the introduction of glitches (yes, that word again) is like exploding candy for the ears. It is the final track (of the original issue, there are two bonuses included with the reissue) that prove what Fennesz is capable of; "Aus" is four minutes of processed guitar splendour.
To be honest, I much prefer where Fennesz has gone from here but it is nice to have this available again for a more complete picture of his work. Hotel Paral.lel may not be his best but it still is a quality album. For those who have the album from its original release, I cannot say if there is a difference in terms of sound quality and the bonuses (a previously vinyl only piece, "5," and a video for "Aus") are not substantial enough to be too worried about. Nevertheless, this is a nice release for the curious late comer to Fennesz to hear where it all began.
John Kealy
SPEX, 11.2007
Andreas Ammer
GROOVE, 11.2007
Christoph Braun
BAD ALCHEMY, 08.10.2007
IL MANIFESTO, 01.10.2007
ALMOSTCOOL.ORG, 28.09.2007
I will admit that I've always found Fennesz to be a bit overrated as a musician, although Endless Summer has in particular aged really well). If you haven't heard this debut release, you might be in for a bit of a surprise given his later work. It at the same time contains some of his most difficult and most mainstream-sounding work to date. It's noisy as hell, but also contains what's some of his most rhythmic work ever.
"Sz" and "Nebenraum" open the release, and are slightly closer to his more modern work, as high-pitched rips of feedback sheer through massive slabs of droning noise on the former, while filtered voices and piano comprise the quieter latter track. "Blok M" begins the surprises, as deconstructed techno beats slathered in feedback crunch through sparse drones. Of course, then "Santora" and "Dheli Plaza" follow it and come right back with gut-crunching ripples of deep electronics and overdriven noise while "Super Feedbacker" sounds like the sort of chin-stroking track expressly written to blow out subwoofers.
Along the way are two of Fennesz's best tracks to date, though. "Fa" might very well top my list of favorites, as a simple, heat-blistered 4/4 beat stomps through the middle of overlapping layers of compressed noise that's both heavy and stunningly gorgeous. Meanwhile, "Traxdata" introduces his skipping-CD style and blends together flickering tones with crushed beats and barely-supressed buzzing. With the bonus track "5" and an excellent video for the track "Aus," the reissue is worth hunting down if you're a completist. It doesn't reach quite the heights of Endless Summer, but it's a solid debut that almost makes you wish he'd veer back towards including more rhythmic elements in his work again. Rating: 7.25
LOSING TODAY, 12.09.2007
Dopo la ristampa qualche mese fa di Endless Summer, la rediviva etichetta viennese di Peter "Pita" Rehberg, Editions Mego (fu Mego), ripropone il primo album di Christian Fennesz a dieci anni di distanza: una scusa legittima ed un occasione per certificare il grado di avanguardia della sua ricerca musicale.
Come tutti i debutti, anche questo solca strade che sono state successivamente abbandonate. La necessita di un ritmo fisso (più berlinese) come in "Blok M" e "Fa" è stata ben presto sostituita dalle intuizioni astratte di chitarre processate, per cui rimandiamo ai lavori come Venice o il già citato Endless Summer, capolavori riconosciuti di Fennesz. Naturalmente ci sono anche delle intuizioni verso quelle direzioni (tra tutte "Uds" e "Aus"), ma non ancora all'altezza di quello che l'artista austriaco ci ha saputo donare successivamente.
Necessario e importante primo passo allora, l'opera sembra annacquata se confrontata coi dischi più riusciti di Fennesz, grazie ai quali oggi tutti lo riconosciamo come maestro del suono de-costruito e ultimamente impegnato anche in collaborazioni importanti come quella con Ryuichi Sakamoto(recensione).
Da segnalare la presenza, come in ogni ristampa che si rispetti, di una traccia bonus ("5") insieme alla traccia video per brano "Aus".
Andrea Firrincieli
eMEGO 088
Kevin Drumm & Daniel Menche: Gauntlet CD
XLR8R, 19.10.2007
HAIR ENTERTAINMENT, 05.09.2007
BLOW UP, 09/2007
Stefano I. Bianchi
PITHFORKMEDIA, 31.08.2007
But taken on its own, Gauntlet never quite crosses the line that divides deep drone from staid noise. That's not for lack of trying. With Drumm generating sandy textures with "guitar and noise," and Menche adding low end through "organ and noise," Gauntlet is busy and never boring. At times the pair reach some nice peaks: around six minutes in, their humming noise sounds like a march of cartoon bumblebees, and later they hit on a dense cacophony akin to a cicada symphony. But more often than not, the pair's sounds level off instead of escalating, and the incessant helicopter-like rhythms are always hackneyed, sometimes even grating.
One of the most interesting things about powerful noise and drone pieces is the deceptive way they slowly and organically progress. Listen to a great work by Phil Niblock or Tony Conrad in real time and it barely seems to change, but skip around and the actual sonic variety can be shocking. Gauntlet reverses that effect: it often sounds like it's headed somewhere, moving forward at an industrious clip. But jump to random sections and it's clear how narrow the piece is. Drumm and Menche put a lot of effort into their journey, and to say they tread water would be unfair. But wherever it is that they end up, you can still see the starting line pretty clearly.
Marc Masters
OTHER MUSIC UPDATE, 08.2007
Drumm has largely been silent for the past couple of years, but thankfully this new collaborative effort with Menche finds him back in full force and brilliant form. Credited with "guitars and noise" while Menche handles "organ and noise," the pair unleash a single, 29-minute track on Gauntlet that's every bit as punishing as their back catalogues might indicate. And yet, it's so much more than just a simple volume at 10, levels in the red workout. Almost more so than any other American noise-icians at work today, these guys craft sounds that have a surprising fluidity and limberness, working in a way that threatens to blow the speakers with a variety of different attacks. Drumm begins the assault with ominous, fuzzed out notes, allowing Menche the space to work up to a full frenzy behind him. What follows next is a series of brutal peaks, with coruscating layers of drone and dirt rising and falling throughout the performance. The guitars buzz in almost black metal style, while the organ pounds and pulses until establishing a fervent drone in the piece's last third. It's definitely almost too brief, but there's something to be said about the economic deployment. Here and gone in a flash, Gauntlet hopefully isn't the last we've heard of this particular pairing. [MC]
GOTHTRONIC, 20.08.2007
From far Gauntlet's hum comes into your room to fill it with a dazzling and hypnotizing swirling orgasm of looped guitar drones and low end organ. Metallic guitar loops flow into each other to recreate a new cacophonous drone with rhythmic textures. The organ is playing in the underbelly, making this piece to a whole. Slowly the music become louder and more intense, grabbing you at your throat and holds you tight.
The noise created comes close to skullflower's tribulation and has a great power electronic feel. Absorbing multi dimensional sucking drones mixed into a complex mass. Sickening and piercing metallic guitars smashing you and numbing your mind. A fascinating vertigo of violent fluxing sounds emerging from this destroying tornado only reveals bits of what is inside. Repetitive harmonies fading in sustainable structures of unrelenting massive noise.
Gauntlet is an intense experience made by these two respected sound manipulators, those who are acquainted with their work know what they can expect. The music comes over you with overwhelming power. In no moment the music is sounding the same as the layers move slowly over each other to create new patterns. The role of the organ grows stronger and the guitar seems more out of control as gauntlet develops itself. Mesmerized I listen to this record and slowly I recognise subtle details in this massive structure. When you try to figure out what is happening you will be left in awe. (8) Remco
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 03.08.2007
TINYMIXTAPES, 30.07.2007
Unsurprisingly, the musical story of Gauntlet, the first collaborative release from heavyweights Kevin Drumm and Daniel Menche, isn’t particularly unique. Fading in and then traversing through a series of textural moments, the 28-minute track expands, occasionally contracts, and treads harmonic territory resembling the precise ambitions of laptop artists and modern classical composers more so than the lo-fi approach of, say, Hive Mind or Double Leopards. The predictable story elements are there — sudden short-circuiting of tonal growth, slow and gradual builds, etc. — but this collaboration isn’t so much a subsumption of harmonic totality as a compliment of each musician’s strengths and weaknesses. This collaboration actually makes musical sense.
With Drumm mainly proffering high-end guitar and noise and Menche the low-end organ fuzz, the textural whole is so pristinely executed the sound nearly takes on a physical form. The tangibility is felt in smeared blocks of sound, flowing into one another as if the drone’s porous skin were somehow involved in some impossibly incestuous ritual. At parts, you can even nod your head to the natural rhythmic patterns produced by the dissonant tones battling for resolution. But despite any smudging of sonic seamlessness characteristic of many drones, Drumm and Menche’s forté is density. The music is actually more like an enveloping tornado than the crushing gauntlet the album’s title promised, and as is often the case with drone music — to be played at high volumes, of course — the changes in texture are felt not by addition but by subtraction. Even while listening intently to "Gauntlet," it’s hard to catch that rumbling bass that slowly fades in over a 10-minute stretch; you only note its presence after you feel it drop out.
Both Drumm and Menche have released superior musical statements in their solo efforts, so Gauntlet is neither a summation of their abilities nor the album I’d recommend to first-time listeners. Instead, Gauntlet is a testament to their achievements in restraint and versatility. It’d be easy to garner critical applause if they unleashed all their tricks on this Editions Mego release — and we’d probably all like it more on an aesthetic level — but this collaboration, despite its ability to "consume" the listener, shows restraint as a formidable approach, something far too rare in a world of overt excess and pastiche. However, appreciation of drone has to extend beyond its individual sounds. Yes, Gauntlet’s implicit narration isn’t singular and the theoretical aspects of drone are overshadowed by a functional one, but the importance is not in its implied or imposed narrative, but in the narratives surrounding the project. There are reasons drones exist in relative obscurity, and attempting to understand why is the most exciting part. Gauntlet, then, is best understood not as a story itself, but as a continuation of the same story frequently told but rarely listened to.
Mr. P
THE EDGE, 25.07.2007
Kevin Drumm and Daniel Menche do not arrive from completely different universes. Drumm is a tabletop guitarist with a repertoire that breaches electroacoustic, ambient, noise and the newly discovered genre called metalgaze. Daniel Menche is a virtuoso of atmospheres having constructed pieces that range from dark ambient horror soundtracks to brutal and punishing noise music. They worked together once before, with turntablist Martin Tetreault, for a project on Editions Mego, the revolutionary Vienna-based electronic label their latest, Gauntlet, also appears on. Gauntlet’s lone track distributes duties pretty evenly. In fact, one could easily be convinced that this was not even a collaboration at all, but rather a split release wherein the two sides bleed into one another. The first half belongs to Drumm’s wailing, fluttering and cacophonous guitars which quickly and rather abruptly splinter into mid-numbing drones. Menche assists with some low-end rumbles in the album’s first act, but is, for all intents and purposes, consigned to the waiting room until it is his moment to step up to the plate. The second half is pure Menche, uber Menche even, with dark and dry electronics carving themselves a simultaneously cavernous and coagulated niche. The last ten minutes of Gauntlet consist of dank, digitally constructed textures wafting into the event horizon and eventually fading into oblivion. It feels like a live one-take, recorded on a lark, using the knowledge of each other’s body of work as their only map.
It’s a simple format. Drumm builds it up, Menche tears it down. Since this is the crux of about 50% of all jam sessions, it can not be held against the two. Many of the most memorable recordings in the avant-garde canon earn their crucial status as enigmatic monoliths through the simplicity of their vision. Yet, something is absent in Drumm and Menche’s latest effort.
Gauntlet’s problem is not texture (which it has in spades), nor dynamics (which are essential for any recording whose length transcends the standard definition of a "song" to become a "composition"). Both artists are magnificent vessels for both of these things. Gauntlet’s fatal error is pacing. In short (and this is where those weaned exclusively on the billboard pop charts might find themselves parting ways with the "head music" audience), at a mere 28 minutes and 47 seconds, Gauntlet’s one track is not long enough. Drumm’s metalgaze fuzz-tech barely has time to imbed itself into the terrestrial consciousness before he loosely collapses it into a drifting wall of sound and ships it off to space. It’s only a few short minutes in before the listener feels like he or she is headed towards the end. Gauntlet’s impatient takeoff simply is not epic enough to elicit that much denouement. I’m not completely bummed out listening to Gauntlet though. As to be expected from both Drumm and Menche, it is a spectacularly fertile and inventive playground in which they work and I’m fully prepared to have my mind blown by each of them, separately, in the not-too-distant future.
Timothy Gabriele
BRAINWASHED, 29.07.2007
Drumm is credited with "guitar and noise" while Menche gets the honor of "organ and noise." And, of course, "noise" is the key word here. Over the span of the single 29 minute track, the two abuse whtever distortion boxes they happened to have handy, but go beyond just the expected "wall of sound" and instead create work that has its own subtle nuances. Within the first 10 minutes there is a fuzzed out wall of guitar noise that rivals the middle part of "You Made Me Realise" or the entire discography of Skullflower!, yet a closer listen reveals a subtle, almost hidden percussive element deep in the mix before Menche’s heavily processed organ makes its presence known.
Two thirds of the way through the wall of guitar noise is gone, replaced by hypnotic, psychedelic tones that may be organ, may be guitar, or may be any other noise creation device these two were using. The disc closes on a crunchy old school industrial/power electronics vibe, undulating distorted rhythmic loops and just a hint of musicality.
As a whole, Gauntlet comes on harsh and never lets up for the ride, yet shows the subtleties and nuances often associated with a more compositional type work. Sure, it can probably damage speakers and shoo small rodents out of any building, but slapping on the headphones leads to an entirely different, even more pleasurable experience.
Creaig Dunton
eMEGO 085
KTL: 2 CD
Julian Cope
TOUCHING EXTREMES, 04.01.2008
Massimo Ricci
TIME OFF, 01.10.2007
KTL is the sporadic duo of Sunn O)))'s Stephen O'Malley and Peter Rehberg, who remains best know for his label Editions Mego and his unrelenting noise project Pita. With KTL though, both dispense with the familiar tools and sound spaces and their work resorts to a more intensely focused exercise. Take the epic 'Theme' for instance - the sounding of a lost kick drum in some huge cathedral sets the open and cavernous aspect of the piece. As it wears on we're exposed to a variety of layers of twisted melodic passages, all of which carry an uneasy sense of corroded memory - elements seem familiar, but their qualities remain utterly alien. Equally, the brooding 'Soom2' generates deep senses of abandoned space, suddenly brought into life through the sound pulses of these two musicians.
It's a dark place where KTL inhabit, but one that remains warm, even at its most dank. 3.5/5
Dave Gendel
ROCKLAB, 30.10.2007
Gabriele de Seta
OCTOPUS, 08/07
Fabrice Vanoverberg
DE:BUG, 07/07
pp ****
GEIGER, 01.08.2007
Nummeret hedder "Theme" og starter med dybe, grottetunge og ekkobelagte slag, inden en foruroligende, nervøs støj begynder at tone frem. Derudover gemmer en lys hurtigthakkende synthtone sig i baggrunden, og det er den, der er nummerets hovedperson. Den udgør samtidig det tema, der lakonisk refereres til i titlen. En ringlende synthtone, der langsomt vokser mod et næsten kosmisk klimaks, der bare bliver ved og ved med højere og højere styrke, indtil et nærmest manisk, fuldt klirrende frontal-angreb sætter ind. En storladen synthstøj-symfoni, der lyder som et smukt kor, hvor samtlige himmelens engle bølger mod atter nye højder. Til sidst bliver det helt skræmmende. Og til allersidst bare trættende.
I en time og ti minutter udforsker Stephen O'Malley (bl.a. Sunn O))), Khanate) og Peter Rehberg (MIMEO) disse ganske få lyde på fire - udgangspunktet taget i betragtning - ret divergerende numre. Bedst er det omtalte "Theme". Kedeligst er nok åbningsnummeret "Game", der gør sig i subtile, dybe droner, der suppleres af lidt synthtoner og guitarfeedback her og der. Samme udgangspunkt har "Ahattnir", men her bygger O'Malley et babylonsk støjtårn op, der umiddelbart lyder solidt, men alligevel gemmer på lidt revner i murværket. Det lyder nærmest som et aggressivt shoegazer-nummer, der minder én om Flying Saucer Attacks tilgang til støjrock. Afslutteren, "Snow 2", virker som det mest komponerede af de fire numre. Det tilbyder et mere atmosfærisk lydunivers med krasse guitarriffs, der falder ud og ind af helheden, en mikroraslen, der lyder som et forvildet insekt, samt en hul tone i baggrunden, der ligger og lurer som et overvågende spøgelse. Og så afsluttes det endda med lidt twang på guitaren, som om det var Labradford, der gæstede med et af deres western-temaer.
De to herrer burde nok snuse lidt mere til begrænsningens kunst, men på den anden side er det jo ikke en plade, der som udgangspunkt er tænkt som en storsællert, så hvorfor ikke gå linen ud? Med deres kompromisløse, vanebrydende stil har de i hvert fald skabt momentane passager, der trækker den intetanende lytter ind i et tuskmørkt palads med afgrundsdybe dronekældre, som man først kommer op af, når hullet alligevel viser sig at have en bund. Også selvom man ofte når at kede sig inden udfrielsen.
Kim Elgaard Andersen
DUSTED, 27.07.2007
There’s a little irony to the fact that Kindertotenlieder centers around a black metal concert/funeral in the deep Austrian forest in the dead of winter, part of which involves boys dressing up as Krampus, the demonic-looking 'companions of St. Nicholas' who, in parts of Austria, terrorize sinful kids on Christmas Eve. This pagan remainder from winter solstice celebrations calls to mind literary modernism's trope par excellence, the German witches' festival Walpurgisnacht as portrayed in Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain. There's some intense bracketing going on here: the early- and late-romanticism of Goethe's Faust and Mahler's Kindertotenlieder, the modernism and postmodernism of Mann and Cooper. Rehberg and O’Malley avoid here the modernist tendency they indulged a little bit with the first KTL – the cathartic, Dionysian release of sinewy, jagged screech. Here, even the buildup is anti-climax, an elegy for something that’s already gone down. It’s anything but an incitement to violence, yet far from contemplative. KTL 2 doesn’t feel so much like a revision of the first as a refinement of its vision, an attempt to make it as indiscernible as Cooper’s own work.
Rehberg and O’Malley’s work is similar inasmuch as they have a circuit-bent relationship to the genres they draw on. Harsh electro and drone metal exist as genres-about-genres, cannibalizing the source materials in a way that chars everything. Not coincidentally, this approach has resulted in some fucking loud music. A loudness that’s as much felt as heard: parsing frequency extremes, their music is by turns so high that it can be mistaken with the sound of your brain's synapses and the circulation of your blood, or so low that it comes uncomfortably close to the brown sound. You'd assume that such amplitude wrangling would come into conflict with the idea of incidental music, but the indistinctness that emerges from being immersed in unfamiliar frequencies matches Cooper's aesthetic exceedingly well. The music conveys a state of being without having to resort to distinguishable musical forms or tropes. Cooper's art is resonant because he deals with inarticulate subject matter in a way that acknowledges his protagonists' essential powerlessness and bewilderment, puncturing his narratives with situations where language itself fails. The overriding feeling here, even more so than in the first installment, is disorientation – the perfectly-titled “Theme” is a 25-minute buildup to fine-grain oblivion, followed by a minute of so of respite and a final desperate spasm of gurgling sound color. Rehberg and O’Malley’s approaches are so integrated here as to be indistinguishable; the difference is significant when compared to the first volume’s immediately-assignable contributions (black metal Derek Bailey guitar from O’Malley and buzz-saw oscillator from Rehberg on the “Forest Floor” tracks).
The album is a reminder that art like this is pretty rare at the moment. With the post-postmodern fetishization of the literary over literature proper and the safe redundancy of indie rock passing as something more than a lifestyle accoutrement, this album’s organ-scrambling oscillations is crucially oblique. It starts as an atmospheric disturbance, an airborne event too evil to ever distinctly manifest; by the time it ends, the molecules are still charged with inarticulate emergency.
Brandon Bussolini
FOXY DIGITALIS, 25.07.2007
Stephen Clover
ROCK-A-ROLLA, ISSUE 10
Matt Evans
STNT, 17.07.07
EI-MAG, 17.07.07
SKUG, 07-09/2007
Alfred Pranzl
ORKUS, 07/2007
Sascha Bertoncin
POPMATTERS, 20.06.2007
Phillip Buchan
TINYMIXTAPES, 15.06.2007
As classic black metal, as a rule, features breakneck tempos and ferocious blast beats to emphasize its aggressive nature, KTL employ a similar device on “Theme,” the album’s second track. Much in the same manner that Kevin Drumm created an uptempo black metal-inspired cacophony of hyper-distorted, digitally manipulated prepared guitar squall on his noise classic Sheer Hellish Miasma (also released on Rehberg’s Mego label), O’Malley and Rehberg use what sounds like sped-up tape loops, bass drums, and near-unrecognizably tweaked string samples to generate a dense, repetitive track (which is incidentally the album’s longest) that places an emphasis on speed and violence. The piece, like much of Drumm’s similarly difficult recordings, seems consciously designed to try the patience of even the most jaded noise aficionado.
“Abattoir” is the most patently guitar-driven track on the album and features the malevolent, buzzing wall-of-sound guitar tone that comes right out of the black metal rulebook. The piece, while basically consisting of a single guitar chord played in minor variations throughout, is perhaps the record’s most intriguing, as it forces the listener to focus on and follow the trajectory of its gently, incrementally shifting textures. Though it is considerably more low-key than the album’s preceding track, “Abattoir” nonetheless seethes with latent aggression that culminates in a compelling series of blackened undulations. O’Malley’s caterwauling guitar is complemented by Rehberg’s low-end electronic patterns that contribute greatly to the tension on this piece.
Closing with the haunting “Snow 2,” KTL 2 ends on a relatively serene, even uplifting, note. Shards of dissonant, delayed guitar chords recur and then decay into infinity like a distant fog horn or possibly a space-borne distress signal repeating at intervals. The track’s heavily reverbed oscillations ultimately give way to melodic, Morricone-esque, clean-toned guitar figures that are reminiscent of Dylan Carlson’s work on his brilliant Hex: Or Printing in the Infernal Method. O’Malley’s filigree arpeggios, situated as they are amidst the gauzy brume of Rehberg’s atmospherics, stand in stark, jarring contrast to the rest of the album, and act as something of a euphoric coda to an ambitious, albeit challenging, record.
Olskooly
FLUCTUAT, 12.06.2007
De leur côté, Rehberg/O'Malley, le duo atypique désormais bien rodé, continue son exploration du post-doom metal dans une vaine expérimentale, mêlant l'electronica la plus ardue et le rock le plus abstrait. A l'écoute de ces quatre nouveaux titres plombés, on imagine aisément l'ambiance sur scène, entre sado-masochisme orgiaque, meurtre rituel et torture au rasoir, castration, viol à la batte de baseball, "plaisir d'offrir, joie de recevoir" comme dirait l'autre. A ce propos, les titres sont évocateurs : "Game" (le genre de jeu dont on ne veut rien savoir et auquel on joue entre adultes consentants) ou "Abattoir" pourtant le plus psychédélique. A l'instar de l'opus 1, KTL 2 en secouera plus d'un, mais risque bien de s'imposer tant au niveau de l'impact que de l'originalité. Imaginez un jam sludge metal entre My Bloody Valentine et Scorn, sans la lourdeur rythmique du second, mais tout aussi hypnotique. Une suite bourdonnante et oppressante, parcourue de stridences lancinantes, soutenue par une batterie d'effets tarés et un martèlement cadencé qui ne déparerait pas dans les forges de Sauron. Mais ne vous laissez pas impressionner par ses abords difficiles, cette bande son pour cauchemar idéal a beau se mériter, elle n'est pas non plus insurmontable. Et ceux qui s'accrocheront connaîtront l'extase viriloïde, et légèrement masochiste, du club très fermé des dompteurs de bruit.
Maxence Grugier
CYCLIC DEFROST, 08.06.07
The work doesn’t amount to liquid insubstantiality, though - it can’t be explained away as loud sonic mush,. Each work displays detail, variety, risk, and surprising refinement. During a work such as ‘Snow 2′, a severe sort of economy rears its head, one in which dynamism and sonic tension play integral parts. ‘Theme’ might see O’Malley lambaste the amplified guts of his guitar while Rehberg’s dark sonics roll like thunderclouds over the horizon, but their is a dreamlike illogic to it all; a coy presence that haunts and completes the movements but is never itself seen. 2 is all about this evasion, this deviation of a sound or process from its natural end. Over the course of this album, signs drawn from black metal, dark ambient and glitch are led astray, overturned and abolished by KTL’s cunning sleight of hand.
Max Schaefer
THE WIRE, 06.2007
'Game' is an exercise in poise, tension and veiled threat, all ominous bass frequencies and hints of atonal strings. 'Theme' begins with a section of mottled quiet and a slow, distant pulse that stutters like a failing heartbeat, then builds to a frenzied plateau that puts one in the mind of an infernal amusement park. 'Abattoir' is simultaneously as smothering and enwombing as My Bloody Valentine and as creepy as Penderecki - indeed, 2 often recalls Stanley Kubrick's use of the Polish composer's music on 'The Shining' soundtrack. The eerily beautiful 'Snow 2' has wraiths of reverbed FX curling like freeing breath on a winter morning. Epic and evocative in its desolation, 2 makes you think of spaces abandoned by human beings - derelict slaughterhouses and disused factories - or Artic wastes where no human foot has ever trod.
Mark Fisher
IGLOOMAGAZINE, 30.05.2007
2 starts with the barely-there "Snow" -- muted electronics and some deep rumbling. "Theme," the longest track at 27 minutes, sounds like O'Malley doing some fast cross-picking in the upper register, and Rehberg's distortion/enhancement on top of that, but it could very easily be almost any sound chopped up and processed. At a loud volume, the sound they create at the peak of this track (about 25 minutes in) is very disorienting. If a sound could make you lose your balance, this is that sound. "Abbatoir" follows in the footsteps of another Mego artist, Kevin Drumm, more specifically his Sheer Hellish Miasma, with its tightly controlled and sharply wielded noise. Slightly more riff-oriented than "Theme," "Abbatoir" is closer to Sunn O))) in spirit but not in execution. Where Sunn overwhelm the senses, KTL punishes them without pity or mercy. Until the nine-minute mark, where everything drops away, leaving a cavern of reverb, every sound so very distant, Rehberg's laptop aping the sound of a swarm of locusts approaching. At 13 minutes, the locusts arrive and it is the sound of chaos. The track peaks around 19 minutes in, and slowly disassembles itself into silence, leading to the closing track, "Snow 2," a quietly menacing drone/feedback exercise with what could be genuine nature sounds on top.
More exhausting than its predecessor, 2 achieves its aim, which is getting more and more rare these days. Loudly recommended.
Jericho Maxim
KINDAMUSIK, 22.05.2007
2 is het vervolg op de muziek die O'Malley en de Oostenrijker Peter Rehberg vorig jaar opnamen als begeleiding bij het theaterstuk Kindertotenlieder van Gisele Vienne en Dennis Cooper. En het mag gezegd, waar die plaat alvast hoge ogen gooide, mag voor het tweede luik gerust de overtreffende trap gebruikt worden.
Het uitgangspunt is nog steeds het samengaan van O'Malleys gitzwart gitaarspel met electronica en effecten allerhande. De integratie van de verschillende delen staat intussen helemaal op punt en KTL smeert vier huiveringwekkende soundscapes uit over een lijvige zeventig minuten.
Na een desolate intro vormt 'Theme' het absolute hoogtepunt waar zowaar een verdwaalde lichte beat gedurende een klein half uur de weg uitstippelt waarlangs KTL gitzwarte schimmen opwekt. Met 'Abbatoir' treedt de gitaar iets dreigender op de voorgrond maar blijft de teneur onveranderd. Het ijle 'Snow 2' zorgt tenslotte voor een moment van verlichting na de donkere dreiging.
2 is ongetwijfeld één van de knapste muzikale metalexperimenten van dit jaar en toont O'Malleys absolute kunnen aan. KTL reist zowel dit als volgend jaar over de aardbol rond om hun kunsten aan de man te brengen. Hopelijk kunnen we hen tijdens deze tocht ergens op een podium in de Lage Landen begroeten.
Hans van der Linden
BOSTON PHOENIX, 23.05.2007
Susanna Bolle
SPEX, 06/07
KTL 2 ist eine gelungene Fortsetzung, die selbst ohne die erfolgsversprechenden Metal-Referenzen auskommen würde. Es ist ein Werk, das durch seine konzentrierte musikalische Ausführung zu begeistern weiß und bereits erahnen lässt, von welchem Potential sein möglicher Nachfolger erfüllt sein wird.
Raphael Smarzoch
TINNITUS, 21.05.2007
Haiko Nahm
THE SLOW ALARM, 18.05.2007
OTHER MUSIC UPDATE 17.05.2007
Picking up right where the duo left off less than a year ago, "Game" opens the album on familiar ground -- all cavernous low-end and muffled drone that deals in eerie restraint. "Theme," however, spends its twenty-six minutes reinventing the form that these two came close to perfecting on their debut. Beginning with muted kick drum blasts, the track slowly builds into a buzzing din of near melodic tones that bend and twirl, uneasily shuffling to the fore and commanding full attention, ultimately erupting in a barrage of jagged feedback and near-occult buzz. While that track bears the unmistakable hand of Peter Rehberg, the "Abbatoir" that follows is distinctly of Stephen O'Malley's domain, a full-on blast of distended guitar dirge coated in digital grime and sub-bass rumble. Though these sounds are distantly removed from the theatrical work that birthed them, Rehberg and O'Malley's keen grasp of pummeling maelstrom gives this album a life all its own. [MC]
AQUARIUS RECORDS UPDATE 17.05.2007
Not a year later, and KTL are back, with another sprawling journey, trawling through the bottomless depths of some hellish underworld and drifting weightless through a starless black sky. A bleak, but occasionally jarring landscape of sonic mystery rife with plenty of drone and buzz.
The opener is a bleak expanse of claustrophobic sound, the sound of waking up in pitch blackness, wet, cold and alone, wandering blindly, feeling your way, hands rubbed raw from sliding along rough stone, the tiniest sounds magnified into some lurking beast ready to pounce, gusts of warm wind rush past, as do strange slithery shapes underfoot, you can hear the wide open space towering overhead, but you can feel the walls closing in, suffocating. Gorgeously dark and bleak, ominous and so creepy. The perfect music for being buried alive, miles below the surface of the Earth. As the first track dissipates, a strange percussive thump gradually surfaces, a heartbeat maybe... a dense layered backdrop of shimmering low end and muted pulses undulates beneath the murky throb, very slowly building in intensity, as streaks of high end grit and buzzing glitch, and strange high pitched melodic fragments begin to materialize all around, like suddenly finding yourself inside a lightning storm, it's almost pretty, but still sharp and jagged. As the upper register peals intensify, they suddenly coalesce into some sort of deafening angelic chorus, a gorgeous layered textural wall of dreamlike skree, some demonic string section, surprisingly melodic beneath all the sonic barbs and white hot buzz. Hard to describe other than to say it's a bit like Nadja or Jesu, run through a bank of alien FX pedals and broadcast through a million tweeters. So intense and gloriously blown out.
The next step in the journey involves visiting the "Abattoir" (much of this disc was in fact recorded in an actual French Abattoir) , and it sounds just like you'd imagine. A bit like O'Malley's Sunn 0))), with layer upon layer of constantly shifting coruscating guitars, a drone metal Niblock maybe, stretched out and hypnotic, the texture of the guitar constantly ever changing, going from smooth and washed out to rough and sharp, a bit like Spacemen 3 or Loop at it's most propulsive, a sort of churning distorted chordal whir, and a lot like Sunn 0))) at its most static. But all throughout, the rough raw shimmer is disrupted by all manner of textural disturbances, bits of grit and muted glitch and subtle shards of fragmented melody.
Finally, the record winds down with an extended coda, thick shards of glistening guitar suspended in gauzy clouds of electronic flutter and swirls of soft sonic snow. Eventually the sharp edges are worn away leaving a strangely haunting slightly degraded Basinski-esque drift that is smoothed even further out, into shimmery spacey synths and sweet chordal swells that drift away leaving nothing but static.
EXCLAIM, 16.05.2007
Dimitri Nasrallah
BRAINWASHED, 13.05.2007
O'Malley and Rehberg have created another installment of genre crossing experimentation that definitely meets the requirement of "dark." The material shows its pedigree well, with neither artist dominating the other sound-wise: O'Malley's slow motion riffing is augmented nicely with Rehberg's laptop electronics. Opener "Game" and ending piece "Snow 2" bookend the work well, the former being a heavy low-end drone that begins near inaudible and builds greatly in volume and dynamics by the end, while the latter sounds like extremely lo-fi guitar parts recorded deep within a dungeon, mingling with the electronics that end up closing the disc with a film score flair. The sprawling middle tracks differ more widely from each other.
"Theme" begins with a slow, simple kick drum pulse, slathered in reverb as synth tones and loops of what sound like harpsichord begin to build in volume until it dominates the mix like a swarm of angry insects that create the most violent organ tones this side of "Sister Ray." It makes for a dark, bleak, evil variant of psychedelia that's not too distant from the acid influenced electronics of C.C.C.C. "Abattoir," on the other hand, is built more like a Sunn O))) track with all sustained monolith riffs, but in this context it sounds like it is being blasted from a loudspeaker in a deep, dark forest.
Stephen O'Malley has been quoted as saying that the KTL project represents a new form of black metal, and it's a pretty accurate depiction. The material does feature that dark, evil atmosphere, but thankfully without the trappings of cookie monster vocals, corpse paint and battle axes. However, it may be closer, both in sonics and spirit, to the mid 1990s ambient offshoot isolationism, helmed by the likes of Lull, Final, and especially the (sub)genre defining Heresy by Lustmord. 2 is not a work with major crossover appeal, but fans of the black metal scene as well as the experimental electronics scene will enjoy this.
Creaig Dunton
THE SOUND PROJECTOR, 05.2007
Ed Pinsent
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 04.05.2007
BLOW UP, MAY 2007
Come in una buona sfida western, l'apertura è affidata a sguardi, micro-movimenti e tensioni sotterranee: in 'Game' accade poci, giusto qualche schermaglia tra sfrigolii smorzati di chitarra elettrica e sussulti elettronici in odore di musica cosmica. Non bisogna attendere molto per l'azione, 'Theme' gira intorno a un riff sintetico agro-dolce che scavalca agguati chitarristici, cambia forma, si dilata ma continua insistenternente a crescere, a crescere e a crescere ancora. Ventisette minuti di trionfo drone solare ed estatico che ricorda l'emozione di scartare un CD Mego dieci anni fa e implora di alzare il volume ("solo un altro po', suvvia!"). 'Abattoir' è speculare - qui la spina dorsale è un riff di chitarra - più quienta, ma alltrettanto seducente mnetre 'Snow 2' torna all'atmosfera sospesa del brano di apertura mentre Stephen O'Malley trova una voce blues fantasma vivina a Loren Connors o agli ultimi Earth. Molte bene. (8/8) Francesco Tenaglia
LISTENING BLOG, 18.04.2007
Welche sinistren Drogen der Prophet Johannes genommen hat, als er im Jahr 95 nach Christus Visionen hatte, die letztendlich zur Niederschrift der "Offenbarung" führten, lässt sich heute (leider) nicht mehr feststellen. Zitate daraus finde ich allerdings gerade zur Zeit wieder sehr passend, nicht nur wegen dem in nicht allzu ferner Zukunft erwarteten Ende der Welt, sondern auch um den Eindruck zu beschreiben, den ich von dem kürzlich bei mir eingelangten zweiten Release des Höllenduos Stephen O` Malley und Peter Rehberg aka KTL hatte. Durch jahrelanges Hören erdig- brutaler Doom- Drones von Sunn 0))) und Konsorten eigentlich gestählt, war ich trotzdem nicht vorbereitet auf die schwarze Riesenfaust, die KTL im gemeinsamen Dialog auf den Hörer niederkrachen lassen; biblisch- apokalyptische Vergleiche sind hier also absolut angebracht.
Schon der erste KTL- Release im Oktober 2006 übrigens sorgte bei mir für einen gehörigen Adrenalinschub; da waren nun also zwei Persönlichkeiten, für die ich großen Respekt empfinde, plötzlich in einem Duo vereint.
Denn obwohl Dylan Carlson mit Earth ja unbestreitbar die Pionierrolle bei der Zusammenführung minimalistischer Drones mit Gitarren-dominiertem Doom zukommt, halte ich zum Beispiel O` Malley´s Sunn O))) (die der Legende nach als Earth- Coverband gegründet wurden) für ungleich wichtiger- sowohl in ihrer hermetischen Suche nach dem tiefsten Erdenklang, als auch in Opposition dazu in ihrer Öffnung zu anderen Musikern hin (die Sunn O)))-Kollaborationen mit Künstlern unterschiedlichster Stilrichtungen sind Legende). Über die vielen anderen großartigen Bands, Projekte und Kollaborationen O` Malley´s hier weitere Worte zu verlieren, würde den Rahmen dieses Artikels absolut sprengen.
Der in Wien ansässige Londoner Peter Rehberg wiederum darf ebenfalls schon als lebende Legende bezeichnet werden: Als Musiker (unter dem Namen Pita), der auf provokativem Wege "Laptop"-Musik" salonfähig machte; als Mitbegründer von Mego, dem in den 1990er-Jahren wohl absolut stilbildendem Label im Bereich der experimentellen Elektronik, und natürlich ebenfalls als Partner zahlloser spannender und wegweisender musikalischer Kollaborationen.
Was KTL und Sunn O))) abseits musikalischer Herangehensweisen gemeinsam haben, ist das lustvolle Spiel mit dem Mythos. Sunn O))) haben dieses Spiel immer schon gerne betrieben: Konzertauftritte in Mönchsroben, Lovecraft-beinflußte Prosa statt Linernotes auf ihren Releases und als bisheriger Gipfelpunkt dann die Sessions zu ihrem sechsten Release "Black One": Der unter Klaustrophobie leidende Gastsänger Malefic (der als Ein-Mann-Projekt die kalifornische, äußerst hörenswerte Black Metal-Band Xasthur betreibt) wurde samt angelegtem Corpsepaint in einen Sarg gesperrt, um die Vocals zu dem Track "Báthory Erzsébet" aufzunehmen.
Auch KTL haben bereits an ihrem Mythos gebastelt: Die gemeinsamen Aufnahmen fanden nicht einfach in irgendeinem stinkigen Bandkeller, sondern stilecht in einem französischen Schloß statt. Auszug aus dem Presseinfo: "Pieces were recorded in a resistance fortress in southern France during a thunderstorm." Der Nachsatz: "...and others in a wintergarden drenched in the sunlight", verrät uns allerdings auch das heimliche Augenzwinkern, wenn man zwar mit Metal-Klischees herumspielt, ihnen aber nicht selbst zum Opfer fällt.
Die Musik von KTL ist ein pechschwarzes Amalgam aus ultratiefen Gitarrendrones und böse glitzernden Laptop-Patches. Was besonders auffällt, ist die Reife beider Musiker: Die erkennt man wohltuend in ihrer Meisterschaft langer Spannungsbögen, wie auch in ihrem todsicheren Gespür für den harmonischen Bau und die logische Struktur eines Tracks. War der erste KTL-Release eine dunkle Meditation zweier fantastisch harmonierender Künstler, geht KTL 2 definitiv noch einige Riesenschritte weiter: Hier geht es nicht mehr "nur" um das harmonische Miteinander, hier sind die Sounds von O`Malley und Rehberg so dermassen ineinander verzahnt, daß sie wie ein einziges, tonnenschweres Instrument klingen. Tracks wie das 27-minütige "Theme" oder das ebenfalls als Longtrack angelegte "Abattoir" schließen sich mit eiserner Faust um deinen Kopf und ziehen dich runter bis mindestens zum Mittelpunkt der Erde. Wenn der Antichrist auf der Erde erscheint, ist dies garantiert der Soundtrack zu seinem Wüten.
"Und ich sah ein anderes Tier aus der Erde aufsteigen, das zwei Hörner hatte, wie ein Lamm, und redete wie der Drache. Und es übt alle Macht des ersten Tieres vor ihm aus und macht, daß die Erde und ihre Bewohner das erste Tier anbeten, dessen tödliche Wunde heil geworden ist. Hier ist Weisheit; wer Einsicht hat, berechne die Zahl des Tieres; denn es ist eines Menschen Zahl, und seine Zahl ist sechshundertsechsundsechzig."
eMEGO 083
Philipp Quehenberger: Phantom In Paradise CD
David Stubbsy
OCTOPUS, 08/07
Fabrice Vanoverberg
OX, JULY 2007
SKUG, 07-09/2007
Stephan Sperlich
BLOW UP, 06/2007
Valerio Mattioli
RIFRAF, 05.07
VITAL WEEKLY 08.05.2007
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 26.04.2007
FALTER, 28.03.2007
Hinter der Freakmaske verbirgt sich ein zweites Gesicht. Wenn Philipp Quehenberger über seine Musik sagt, sie sei paradox, dann trifft das auf ihn selber genauso zu. Aufgrund seiner lauten, heftigen Auftritte als Keyboardrocker hat er seit Jahren das Image des Berserkers mit Schnurrbart und Lederjacke weg. 1999 debütierte Quehenberger beim Phonotaktik-Festival. Inzwischen gilt er als eine dieser halb legendären Figuren, die nie so richtig vom Fleck kommen. Zu Unrecht.
Erstens ist der Dreißigjährige einer der versiertesten Musiker der Stadt, wie einem von Franz Hautzinger über Patrick Pulsinger bis Marco Eneidi aus so ziemlich allen Richtungen bestätigt wird. Und zudem hat er jetzt, nach fünfjähriger Anlaufphase, auch ein Album fertiggestellt. Zum Interview mit dem Falter erscheint Quehenberger nicht nur pünktlich, sondern zehn Minuten zu früh. An sich spreche er nicht gerne über seine Musik ("weil ich Angst habe, dass ich etwas sage, was ich im nächsten Moment schon wieder zurücknehmen will"), aber jetzt möchte er doch mal einiges präzisieren. "Obwohl die Musik selbst sich manchmal widerspricht."
Quehenberger ist gewiss ein chaotischer Vogel. Just am Abend seiner CD-Präsentation im rhiz wird er auch einen Auftritt in der Fluc Wanne absolvieren, da ist ihm was durcheinandergeraten. Dass er für sein Album so lange brauchte, liegt aber auch an seinen riesigen Ambitionen. Immer wieder hat er halbfertige Platten verworfen, war mit dem Material unzufrieden oder hat nach ewigem Tüfteln keinen gemeinsamen Nenner mehr darin gesehen. Dass er nach langer Suche mit Mego endlich ein Label fand, brachte die Sache allmählich ins Rollen. Zur Fertigstellung zwang ihn schließlich Patrick Pulsinger: "Er hat mir gesagt, nächste Woche soll ich zum Abmischen zu ihm ins Studio kommen."
Der gebürtige Innsbrucker, der seit zehn Jahren in Wien lebt, legt sich ungern fest. Als Livemusiker, der - mehr schlecht als recht - von seinen Auftritten lebt, ist das Studio eine Ausnahmesituation. "Ich war froh, als ich's hinter mir hatte, aber ich bin zufrieden", resümiert er. "Ich wollte mir selber beweisen, dass ich eine relativ poppige Platte machen kann und nicht den Avantgardemusiker oder harten Typen markieren muss."
Wahrscheinlich ist Quehenberger jedoch all das auf einmal. Zumindest ist sein Sound extrem vielschichtig. Da ertönt Lärm, der den Hörer nicht abstößt, sondern in dem er sich verlieren kann; Techno, der nach ein paar Minuten verdammt nach Jazz klingt; Freies und Strukturiertes, Improvisiertes und Komponiertes; experimentelle und, ja, schon irgendwie poppige Klänge. In den neun Stücken findet auch das zusammen, was sonst nicht zusammengehört.
"Mir hat immer alles gleichzeitig gefallen", sagt der einstige Klavierstudent. "Ich will etwas machen, das von Free Jazz bis Pop alles enthält, wo ich mich nicht für eines entscheiden muss. Noise taugt mir deshalb, weil im weißen Rauschen alle Geräusche drinliegen." Manche davon gehen im Verlauf der Stücke verloren, andere tauchen als sogenannte ghost notes auf, obwohl sie gar nicht gespielt werden: "Wenn man vier Töne im richtigen Rhythmus spielt, hört man den fehlenden fünften."
Über Kategorisierungen seiner Musik will sich der Sohn eines Theatermusikers und einer aus den USA stammenden Countrysängerin lieber nicht den Kopf zerbrechen. "Es gibt keine musikalische Wahrheit", sagt er. Mit seiner antipuristischen Haltung stößt er bisweilen allerdings auf Unverständnis: "In der Populärkultur ist Free Jazz ein Problem, da giltst du als elitärer Spinner. Andererseits bin ich den Jazzern meist viel zu laut, und die halten mich für wahnsinnig, wenn ich bei einer Session einen Dreiklang spiele. Aber das ist alles zu kurz gegriffen. Sagt jemand, ein Stil wird nie mehr passieren, kann man sich sicher sein, dass der in drei Jahren das große Ding sein wird."
Die Devise "Alles geht" bedeutet im Fall von Quehenberger keinen postmodernen Relativismus. Es geht ihm darum, all das, was für seine Ohren wahr, gut und schön klingt, in seine Stücke zu packen. Und durch die Verdichtung eine gewaltige Energie freizusetzen. So etwas spricht dann auch Kunstmenschen wie Franz West an, bei dessen Ausstellungseröffnungen Quehenberger oft spielt: "Ich glaube, ihm taugt, dass ich die Leute mehr oder weniger vertreibe."
Mit Kunsttheoretikern und Konsorten hat der Musiker dafür ein Problem, und Grabenkämpfe zwischen den Lagern sind dem zwischen allen Welten wandelnden Paradox ein Gräuel: "So was hat für mich in der Musik keinen Platz, weil die Musik in Wahrheit niemandem gehört. Früher hat die Kirche bestimmt, was erlaubt ist und was nicht, mir kommt vor, mittlerweile machen das Kunsttheoretiker und Cultural-Studies-Typen." Das Resultat: "Die Leute trauen sich vieles nicht mehr, weil sie Angst haben, man würde dann dieses oder jenes über sie denken."
Philipp Quehenberger steht nicht nur seit seiner Jugend regelmäßig auf der Bühne. Er hat merklich auch viel über Musik und ihre Hintergründe nachgedacht. In seinem Kopf hat sich ein weitverzweigtes System gebildet, das er bei Gelegenheit abrufen kann. Oder auch nicht. "In dem Moment, wo man zu spielen beginnt, muss man alles vergessen und den Kopf abschalten können", sagt er. Denn: "Im Grunde geht's bei Musik nur um das, was man hört, das andere ist eh wurscht."
Sebastian Fasthuber
eMEGO 053
Kevin Drumm: Sheer Hellish Miasma CD
Highlights? Veteran Styx axeman Tommy Shaw brings sweet, impressionistic pentatonic dabs to ‘Hitting the Pavement’, transforming what was an endless, bland, cymbal-raping reverberation into something now highly likely to be the album’s third single. While good old reliable Dave Grohl revises his proven grunge tub-thumping skills to effective effect on ‘Turning Point’, improving it immeasurably. I can just see this one working live now, whereas I couldn’t have done before really.
Sheer hellish miasma? Not any more! 7/10
Seb Hunter
BLOW UP, 06/2007
Valerio Mattioli
OCTOPUS, 29.06.2007
Laurent Catala
BAD ALCHEMY, 05.07
Mit 'Cloudy' verstreicht Drumm Traumeel auf die wund gescheuerten Trommelfelle, nur dass ihm in der letzten Sekunde die Hand ausrutscht. Autsch!!
ORKUS, 06/07
SOUND OF MUSIC, 23.05.2007
"Sheer Hellish Miasma" utkom 2002 på österrikiska Mego. Nu har den återutgivits med aningen förändrat omslag signerat Stephen O'Malley från Sunn O))). Och en extra låt, inspelad samma år som skivan kom ut. Vad som tillkommit, musikaliskt sett, är att den nya "Impotent Hummer" öppnar skivan i en påtagligt tystare riktning än tidigare. Relativt sett, bör tilläggas, för även om det är ett dronestycke tar man inte miste på intensiteten, densiteten, elakheten. Det är en mörk skiva, våldsam, farlig. Spelad på hög volym i fel miljö blir det säkert kaos, förutom sönderbrända högtalare. Samtidigt - om släpper ljuden inpå sig - framträder en skönhet av överväldigande mått, gnistrande feedback dompterad med suverän formkänsla.
Kevin Drumms bakgrund som gitarrimprovisatör märks om inte i ljudvalet så i sättet att manipulera och förändra. Det är massivt, men aldrig statiskt. Lite påminner "Sheer Hellish Miasma" om stunder med Wolf Eyes och Sunn O))). Som om de förras fokuserade elektroakustik och de senares kompakta minimalism mixats till ännu extremare resultat. Det finns här en råhet i uttrycket, metallisk och med blodsmak, ett seriöst försök att göra det olidligt smärtsamma lyssningsvärt, översinnligt, paradisiskt.
Drumm har arbetat med lager på lager av brus och rundgång från gitarrer, analoga synthar, tape, mikrofoner, pedaler. Det är inte fjärran Merzbows attacker i vitt brus, men det finns något i de distade underströmmarna som utmärker Drumms dovare ljudlandskap.
Efter den aningen inbjudande inledningen kommer den korta "Turning Point". Tio mikroskopiska ljudknäppar och sen är strömvirveln igång med en basfrekvens som på hög volym får det att fläkta i magen. Därefter skivans bägge mittpunkter, bägge klockar in på omkring 20 minuter.
Den första, "Hitting the Pavement", är en vråldistad, sönderfiltrerad dronesekvens som kör operationsborren rakt i urberget, i glaciären, i örats högre register. Som ett långsamt mantra kränger ljudbilden mellan hypnos och fullständig utmattning, det är så obehagligt att det blir skönt. Det märkvärdiga är inte hur ljuden lagras utan hur de avtäcks, hur strukturen hålls ihop, hur allting går fram trots att det rör sig om en djävulsk kakafoni.
Därefter - "The Inferno". Drumm fuskar inte, det är musik att spela när hela skiten rasar ihop. Högspänning, splitterbomber, orkan i fibertrådarna, historiens slut. Som crescendo den yttersta dagen är det höjden av musikalisk konsekvens att driva stycket så hårt, så långt, så nära gränsen för det uthärdliga. Men, just innan man beställer sista smörjelsen kommer "Cloudy", ett fem minuter långt stycke av fluffig, återhållen, innerligt läkande feedback.
Så sluter en klassiker sin form - från mardröm till dagdröm, genom kramp och lättnad, mellan krig och fred. "Sheer Hellish Miasma" är en milstolpe, en musikalisk monolit.
Sven Rånlund
ROCKDELUX, 05.2007
Puede ser que la reedición de Drumm responda al oportunismo, pero, en cualquier caso, es una buena notica porque la estructura sónica de la obra del holandés es tan compleja e intelligente que podemos afirmar que se ha convertido en todo un paradigma de la música ruidosa contemporánea. Después de colaborar con Gastr Del Sol, Jim O'Rourke y el músico concreto Ralf Wehowsky, Drumm consiguió abrir el espectro cerrado en el que se movía hacia un escapismo electrónico de noise descabellado e irritante que cohesionó el canon del ruido contemporáno.
La única lógica que parece imperar a lo largo de todo el disco es la de la catarsi y el miedo., un caos que se desarrolla entre texturas digitales pero también a través de la incontinente guitarra de un Drumm que lleva al paroxismo lo que Jim O'Rourke y Noel Akchoté predican con esmero: el fingerpicking después del fingerpicking, algo así como la versión noise y conceptual de la técnica que popularizó John Fahey. Con todo, Drumm combina los aspectos más salvajes del ruido con los más introspectivos sin perder de vista nunca la ambición de convertir el noise en un género mayor. Lo consiguió.
Jaime Casas
BRAINWASHED 29.04.2007
Sheer Hellish Miasma begins with the deceptively titled of "Impotent Hummer;" deceptive as there is nothing impotent about this piece nor the rest of the album. Drumm's use of noise is precise and domineering, the sound pushes the listener to where Drumm wants them. He refuses to allow the noise to break down into chaos. Instead he finds a spot in the noise and nurtures it into a gigantic worm-like pulse. "Impotent Hummer" is based on a pounding metallic rhythm which constantly feels like it is going to break apart as other layers are poured into the track like coarse gravel. It is an impressive start and remarkably it gets even better from here.
This album works especially well thanks to Drumm's control of the sounds being produced. While most noise artists throw caution to the wind and just let everything feedback wildly, Drumm instead tries to harness the energy he is unleashing and aim it directly at whoever is brave enough to listen. The tidal drones of "Hitting the Pavement" feel like they could break all around me if it were not for Drumm reining them in. If the power was allowed to swell up and spill out then I imagine the piece would become quite boring in a short space of time. "Hitting the Pavement" instead sounds even more massive than any din left to its own accord.
As captivatingly heavy as this album is, it still exacts a heavy toll on me; I am exhausted by the time it finishes. Thankfully Mr. Drumm is a nice man and lets his audience down gently with the relatively sleepy piece "Cloudy," which soothes the ears after an hour of hard labor. Sheer Hellish Miasma is not hellish by a long shot, it is one of the most finely crafted albums of the last decade. On the surface it is pure noise but delving into its depths reveals far more than the average bedroom knob twiddler. I am delighted that Mego have reissued it as I would probably never have encountered it otherwise.
John Kealy
STYLUS MAGAZINE, 30.04.2007
While Drumm himself has decried the notion of “reinvention” or a marked artistic determination to resist repetitive process, each of his recordings embraces a remarkable variance and approach to sonic organization, from his first CD release on Perdition Plastics in 1997—a troubling minimalist archeology of static and instrumental malfunction—to the hyperbolic Death Metal guitar of 2004’s Impish Tyrant. The first six years of his discography show Drumm’s gathering strength; Frozen By Blizzard Winds, Drumm’s split with Lasse Marhug recorded in 2001 is a harbinger of things to come, lulling tones mined with ear-rattling explosions, an approach that would be fully sketched out by the time Sheer Hellish Miasma was finished.
“Hitting the Pavement,” arguably Sheer Hellish Miasma’s finest track and ostensible centerpiece, is a perfect storm of endurance, dynamics, and terrific beauty. Its success is in its ability to embrace dichotomy and achieve amicable commingling through wanton and able termination. “Hitting the Pavement” is harsh and pleasing, sonorous and scabrous, gorgeous in all its hideousness. Droning static works itself into boundless energy; suns that refuse to set and threaten to explode, their heat and light at levels unnatural and apocalyptic, forcing tide into tidal, wind into tornado, lines of plains into ruptured and overturned quakes of destruction. Its effect is entrancing and alarming. Eight minutes in, source drone is at untraceable level; a “guitar” shrieks and stalls in circles of muscular feedback, tar-coated buzzards driven into a wheeling, cawing frenzy, their black whirl pushed into motion by the sweet reek of the piled dead below. The last five minutes, a sonic homage to putrefaction is nothing but stench rendered sound. Cooked flesh, confusions of broiled viscera, riffles of blood and urine, small ponds of gray matter pulsed into a rancid brown pudding by unforgiving heat. Of course, “Hitting the Pavement” doesn’t end. It slowly fades away, crawling into silence as its intestinal tails draw shit-colored streaks on dead, cracked ground. “The Inferno” is the second coming: an unwanted return from the Messiah of Perdition. “Hitting the Pavement” is reconfigured, its structural bones broken into dust and wrapped in rugs of sun-dried skin. The baptism is acute and overwhelming; those that choose to listen have no other option but to submit. Closer “Cloudy” provides single reverberating tones adrift in overwhelming background. The horizon goes on forever. Still it continues.
All four tracks from the original are retained; the reissue adds a single bonus track, the adequately entitled “Impotent Hummer,” which spends thirteen long minutes going nowhere. We get a sharpened and sparkling re-mastering and a pointless artwork revamp by the ubiquitous Stephen O’Malley. With a likely trove of album edits from this era, one’s left wondering why Mego—and Drumm—didn’t choose to bundle it all together to give listeners more perspective as to how Sheer Hellish Miasma was built in the first place; a valid question and a substantial criticism, but nothing that should deter adventurous listeners from indulging in what is authoritatively one of the bona fide masterpieces of American music of any genre, of any era.
Stewart Voegtlin
THE WIRE, 05/2007
'Sheer Hellish Miasma' first appeared in 2002, and in hindsight, Drumm's guitar based textural endeavours provided a foretaste of the current new wave of Ameircanoise (Control, John Wiese, Bastard Noise, et al). This new version comes with a ten-minute bonus nasty, 'Impotent Hummer', recorded at the same time as the 2002 release., which menacingly flatlines a tambura-like drone in the opening minutes. It's not too long before scything blade start protuding from every apeture and all hell is on the cusp of breaking loose. Predictably, the 20-minute 'Hitting The Pavement' and ensuing grindsplattering marathon of 'The Inferno' remain the pinnacles of this mammoth exercise in telluric intensity and aural symmetric elongation. Both will still have you turning down the volume knob, however much you think your cringing eardrums have acclimatised to their sheer sonic density. One presents a wall of static and grainy riff textures that border on the cinematic; the other is a cataclysmic white sheet of schizotronic frequencies and abrasive, splintered circuitry.
Richie Ruchpaul
KINDAMUZIK
Sheer Hellish Miasma is eigenlijk al van 2002 maar wordt nu door het Oostenrijkse Mego heruitgebracht én aangevuld met nieuw materiaal. 'Impotent Hummer' dateert immers uit dezelfde opnamesessie en leidt het schijfje in met een ruim dertien minuten durende, intense drone. Vervolgens toont Drumm zijn muzikale kunnen in een caleidoscoop van muzikale kleuren.
Drumm brengt op Sheer Hellish Miasma een synthese van musique concrète, electronica, industrial en noise en overgiet dit goedje met een dosis gezonde experimenteerdrift. Als 'Turning Point' nog klinkt alsof je naast een opgevoerde motor staat, gaat hij met het sleutelnummer 'The Inferno' helemaal loos en geeft hij een uitermate gelaagd nummer ten beste dat zowel uit subtiele elektronica als vormeloze noise bestaat.
Toch vallen de vele elementen in de plooi en vertoont Sheer Hellish Miasma een opvallende cohesie, die er ondanks de hoge mate van abstractie erg goed ingaat.
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 18.03.2007
TIME OUT NEW YORK / ISSUE 601
Hank Shteamer
TRIGGERFISH, 04.04.2007
Editions Mego legt derzeit einige hörenswerte Klassiker aus dem Mego-Katalog neu auf, dies mal hat es KEVIN DRUMM's Lärm-Moloch “Sheer Hellish Miasma" aus 2002 erwischt.
Die Neuauflage beginnt mit dem 13minütigen Bonustrack “Impotent Hummer": ein sägender Drone mit Fabrik-Ambiente, der Sound unzähliger Stahlfräsen und ihre hypnotische Wirkung. Spätestens nach drei Minuten weiß man nicht mehr, ob das Hintergrundgeschehen zum Track gehört oder aus anderer Quelle herüberschallt.
Die Eröffnung mit "Impotent Hummer" anstelle des ursprünglichen als Opener eingesetzten “Turning Point" verändert die Wahrnehmung des Albums als Ganzes übrigens deutlich. Da nun nicht mehr das extrem hektische Digital-Noise-Brett “Turning Point" als Einstieg in DRUMM's Welt fungiert, dürfte der Zugang zum Album vielen deutlich leichter fallen. An der restlichen Trackfolge wurde dann allerdings nicht mehr herum gebastelt. Es bleibt bei Dante's Inferno in 16 Bit und 44KHz Sampling Rate; ein nicht anders als infernal zu bezeichnender Wall-Of-Noise, der praktisch permanent das gesamte Frequenzband abdeckt und keinerlei Lücken hinterlässt - außer im Trommelfell des Hörers. Umso versöhnlicher (nach wie vor) der Schlusspunkt “Cloudy" - ein beinah sakraler Ambientrack, der sich ganz auf wohlige Bässe verlässt.
Für die Übertragung des originalen Artworks von Jewel Case auf's Digipak-Format zeichnet sich übrigens ein gewisser Stephen O´Malley verantwortlich, der zur Popularitätssteigerung derartiger Klänge ja bereits einiges beigetragen hat. Wer “Sheer Hellish Miasma" also bis dato noch nicht sein Eigen nennt, sollte nun also seine zweite Chance nutzen. 5/6
Sascha Bertoncin
HAIR ENTERTAINMENT, 04.04.2007
eMEGO 078
Tujiko Noriko: Solo CD
Sounding like a patchwork of radio static, outdoor sounds, snippets of recorded strums, and the naked human voice, her music might be captured transmissions from the id, an amalgam of airwave junk reconstituted as art. Earthly nature sneaks in: The synthesizers approximate birds chirping and insects skittering ("Sun!"), burps and bowel movements ("Gift"). Add the warm rushes of melody, and you have Noriko's brand of Rabelaisian science fiction for the ears: a warble that softly grades into a dirty, otherworldly terrain.
Not that the city lights of her native Japan and adopted France, past and present, don't spill through the haze. There's a sultry, moonlit glimmer to "Spot" that would fit nicely inside French chanson, but that's it for one-to-one parallels. When asked by Japanese magazine Shift how Paris has shaped her music, Noriko free-associated a better answer: "Desolation, lassitude, reactionary." Copyrighted, potentially, as Mitt Romney's campaign slogan, the three enigmatic nouns capture the breeze of post-riot, Chirac-era pessimism blowing through her album's happy textures.
If France imparts mood, Japan lends order. Unlike Björk, whose glacier-shattering contralto tends to tyrannize her tracks, Noriko's humbler voice melts discreetly into a democracy of sound. Both women use their voices as instruments, but Noriko views her own merely as one among many: first among equals. So, you might say, she shares more with her fellow Japanese artists, the generation that includes Sachiko M, the onkyo queen of texture, ambient idol Miharu Sochi, and After Dinner's Haco, the rock star turned sound bricoleur.
There is a healthy amount of disorder, too: As Noriko's fans would expect, Solo avoids the schematic here-to-there, beeline routes of Japanese pop. "Spot" may come the closest. Flickering inside these songs are the surreal motions of mental wanderlust, a weighty randomness that suggests the dislocations and spasms of reverie. Like the paper crane, like a dream, the wonders of Solo are rooted in metamorphosis.
By turns tender and abstract, tracks like "Ending Kiss" (where she teams up with Hideki Ataka) and "In a Chinese Restaurant" seem to endlessly outpace expectations. They begin roughly as ballads, before off-time drums, thundering like distant artillery, rattle the pop scaffolding loose. We try to predict the next twist, how Noriko will dynamite whatever ornate façade she's been hand-crafting carefully before us.
With the opening track's overlapping evolutions-- from whispery sing-speak into delicate coos into multitracked echoes, from clicks and knocks into shakers and rewound samples-- we should have been prepared for the zigzagged road ahead. Noriko is too inventive, too capricious, or simply too short on concentration, for our sluggish brains to catch up.
Roque Strew
FLUCTUAT, 13.06.2007
Solo marque le retour de la surdouée Tujiko Noriko après la réédition par Editions Mego de Shojo Toshi, un album originalement paru en 2001 et produit par le co-fondateur de Mego, Peter Rehberg (aka Pita) auquel viennent s'ajouter les nombreux bonus de l'édition japonaise. Après avoir squatté une pléthore de labels et participé à des projets divers et variés (dont ses débuts, remarqués, comme réalisatrice au cinéma !), la demoiselle semble s'être trouvée une place naturelle chez les Autrichiens de Mego, avec qui elle avait déjà signé l'expérimental et luxuriant Hard Ni Sasete en 2002. Mais depuis From Tokyo To Naiagara paru chez Tomlab en 2003, Tujiko ne se lasse plus d'explorer les chemins de traverse et autres itinéraires bis de la pop contemporaine. Spécialiste des collaborations éclectiques (Peter Rehberg,Lawrence English, Riow Arai ou Aoki Takamasa sur 28, un disque réalisé chez Fat Cat en 2005), la Japonaise se réapproprie son univers intrigant sur un album qui clame haut et fort son besoin d'intimité, voir même d'isolement.En cela, Solo se rapproche clairement de From Tokyo To Naiagara. Intimiste, légèrement isolationniste, Solo fait la part belle aux mélodies ambiantes, aux sons capturés dans les champs (criquet, cigale et petits oiseaux). Faisant honneur à son titre, Solo propose donc une sélection de comptines torturées et touchantes, habillées de ritournelles bancales et soutenues par la voix tantôt caressante, tantôt faussement maladroite de Noriko dans une version lo-fi de laptop music qui fait tout le charme de son travail. En osant sur un même album l'envolée expérimentale de "No Error in My Memory" et la pop lumineuse de "Spot", dont la mélodie pointilliste rendrait les High Llamas verts de jalousie ou ne serait pas reniée par son compatriote Cornelius, Tujiko Noriko se place une fois de plus naturellement sous le signe de l'audace et du talent. La douceur de ses harmonies lancinantes et souvent hypnotiques, sur "Magic" qui ouvre merveilleusement l'album, ou "Saigo No Chikyu", ses balbutiement ("babillages" conviendrait mieux) électros discrets sur "Sun!" et les fractures rythmiques d'inspiration hip hop sur "Gift", un titre presque r&b, ou du moins proposant une forme de hip hop modernisé par l'électronique, et le downtempo moelleux de "In A Chinese Restaurant", tombent juste à chaque fois. Tujiko Noriko n'a pas son pareil pour évoluer en funambule entre la gaucherie et la magie et c'est certainement l'essence même de son art. D'ailleurs, si l'electronica est clairement son air de jeu favorite, elle semble désormais également à l'aise sur un format pop/rock plus classique, guitare, batterie, voix et synthétiseur, comme le prouve le très beau "Ending Kiss". Un talent pluridisciplinaire qui vire carrément en ballades intimistes et rêveuses sur le psychédélique "Let Me See Your Face".
En privilégiant un format plutôt court, dans le domaine des musiques électroniques tout du moins (une cinquantaine de minutes à peine), Tujiko Noriko signe un véritable disque pop et s'éloigne, un temps, des sucreries douces amères et ambiguës de ses précédentes sorties. Je ne sais plus où je lisais : "Neuf plages de pop lubrique, aigre-douce, synthétique et éthérée", mais c'est exactement ça.
Maxence Grugier
XLR8R, MAY 2007
CHRONICART, 23.04.2007
Toujours résidente à Bagnolet, récemment éparpillée dans pas mal de projets partagés (avec Riow Arai, Takamasa Aoki, Pita ou Lawrence English) et une carrière florissante de cinéaste (ça devrait bientôt faire jaser, sans aucun doute), ça faisait un petit bout de temps qu'on avait pu apprécier le songwriting de notes, bulles bruit et voix de la surdouée Noriko (plus précisément, le chaos merveilleux de Hard ni sasete, en 2002). Ce nouvel opus, laborieusement recueilli par la maison qui l'a révélée, Mego, ne s'appelle donc pas Solo pour rien, et c'est un petit bonheur de retrouver, presque inchangé, l'ambiant-pop presque dyslexique, funèbre et rose, curieusement distante de la dame, étalé en neuf tracks ambiguës et précieuses. Le sound-processing s'est un peu assagi, les inserts de bruit de rue, de nappes de sale bien enfouis dans les quadrilles de petits beats tranquilles, affables, mais l'essentiel du paradoxe, mystère, de la chansonnière est intact : on ne comprend toujours pas, d'une note tenue haute à la voix et à l'orgue midi à une descente de guitare floue, d'un étal de nappes liquide à un déluge de mots-dits, de ce qui fait tenir les chansons, ce qui les accroche au cortex, ce qui les fait rentrer dans le c¦ur. Pas une chanson ne se plante pourtant dans le quelconque qui pendait au nez de mélodies-rengaines qu'on connaît déjà toutes par coeur -on se love volontiers dans ces notes là comme Noriko semble s'y repaître, s'y épanouir comme dans une biosphère ambient. Très beau moment de spleen aplani en chansons-mystères, ce disque empilé toute seule atteint des sommets quand il fait accoucher un thème pop d'un mantra improbable (le pic Gift) ou lévite juste au-dessus du silence (Spot), et, sans surprise, de Tujiko depuis des lustres.
Olivier Lamm
POPNEWS, 18.04.2007
Gildas
SKUG, 04/2007
Alfred Pranzl
DEBUG, 04/07
ROCKDELUX, 04/07
POPMATTERS, 12.04.2007
A lot of her recent work has been collaborative, which brings us to the title of Solo. This album, she says, came about after she decided to compose songs on her own again. “Then I happily sing, dance, doing a mini-party alone.” Her voice is the only human noise on the disc. Everything else is a recording or an electronic effect. Experimental electronic pop is her forté. She sings calmly, with repressed pleasure, only changing her tone for “No Error in My Memory”. On that track she speeds up and seems agitated, as if the memory in the title is remembering things that she would rather forget.
More than one reviewer has compared her to Björk, but the ways the two singers use their voices as instruments within a piece of music are quite different. Björk’s voice jumps into a song with its teeth bared. It takes the lead. Aggressively, it gives the piece an emotional direction. When it whispers then the mood of the music whispers along with it. It trembles and the song trembles. The Noriko of Solo is not a trembler. Her voice is the least overtly emotional part of the music. It’s the sweet murmur that anchors a flurry of electronic squeaks. It’s a toffee-soft bedrock and the effects are spikes and flowers running through it and growing over it.
Without her voice Solo would sound avant-garde and spur-of-the-moment, as if a group of people were standing around pressing buttons, tweeting and blurting at will. With it, you have dreamlike songs. Not dreamy, because dreamy suggests softness and Noriko’s music is too spirited for that. I mean dreamlike and unexpected. The voice is the dreamer and the tweets and blurts are the incidents that swell up and subside in dreams: the strangers that appear and vanish, the fire station that you walk into only to discover that it has turned into a restaurant, the dog that transforms itself into a cow, the enemies that run over a hill and magically evaporate.
The effect is lighthearted and disconcerting. This is an album for people who like pop’s chirpiness but distrust its obviousness. Noriko never introduces a straightforward melody without undoing it. “Ending Kiss” begins with a sweet phrase which doesn’t last for more than a few seconds before the tone veers slightly off-kilter, it grows tart instead of sweet, and the melody is fogged with staticky blurs of noise. “At a Chinese Restaurant” starts sweetly too, and then it cracks. There are zooms and tinkles. In the middle of “Gift” appears a grunt that sounds almost like an accidental belch. It pops out of nowhere, quacks once, then disappears.
“Sun” is one of the most thickly layered songs on the album. It suggests sunshine in more than one mood, both as a shimmering warmth and as shots of light coming through a cloud. The song starts with insects creaking, then it segues into whistles, chirps, bird peeps and whoops, low booms, and Noriko’s voice singing in the background, smooth-paced among the sound effects. I heard cats and thought of Juana Molina’s Son, last year, with its mewing kittens. The Japanese cats aren’t happy, though. They rowl and moan angrily, where Molina’s kittens were plaintive.
Noriko’s voice clouds over, the chirps and insects and cats are superseded by a hollow aural smog: the sounds cluster in on another intensely. A keyboard arrives and clears away the smog. Sunbeams. A typewriter rustles, chik-tak-chik, and the song fades away. Everything has been bright and astonishing. The musician seems to throw out these noises to disarm us so that we can receive her surprise blurts like little stabs of ecstasy, like moments of gladness breaking into our brains. Her music sparkles upwards. It lifts its hands to the light. Keyboard hosannas rise here and there throughout the album.
In other places there are stretches of low-key meandering that can get dull. “See Your Face” spends a lot of time rolling down an avenue of wind and “Gift” hangs around in fog for too long. But these are the exception rather than the rule. They do, however, highlight another difference between Noriko and Björk: the Japanese musician doesn’t have the Icelander’s seemingly instinctive precision. From the beginning of every song Björk plants her finger exactly on what she wants. Noriko fiddles delicately around in her sack of cats and typewriters until—surprise!—there it is!—she’s found the music.
This fiddling makes her seem human. She’s like us. She’s sweet, thoughtful, slightly veiled and odd, standing back from these tweets and blurts and taking stock of them from her bedrock position. The withdrawn quality in her voice prevents Solo being a totally involving album—get too enthusiastic and you might feel that you were taking the music more seriously than the composer—but you can’t deny its sly, shy charm.
7/10 Deanne Sole
MUSIC-SCAN, 04.04.2007
Matthias
RELEASE MAGAZINE, 03.04.2007
Maybe some people are still doing it out there, but I can't imagine many of them having such a strong, trademark sound: Tujiko radiates warmth both with her tender vocals and with the unrushed beats going nowhere special and taking their time about it. The faster pace on "In a Chinese Restaurant" jolts you out of your seat for a second, but soon returns you to a pleasant slumber before the album ends. Losing oneself in the melodic, carefully assembled electronic soundscape is all too tempting.
Although I have not taken pains at proper translation, the lyrics of "Solo" are less travel oriented and restless than on her last album "From Tokyo to Naiagara", and her musings on the little things in life add to the meditative state induced by the album.
Tujiko really sounds much as she has done for the the past couple of years. For this particular artist, it comes as quite a relief. For all her interest in glitches and static, Tujiko Noriko's strongest asset is her ability to create a calm in the middle of the storm. 8/10
MATTIAS HUSS
ALTERNATIVENATION.DE, 02.04.2007
Anders. Solo klingt definitiv anders, als das Meiste, was das Durchschnittsohr so an Musik zu hören bekommt. Das liegt einerseits daran, dass Tujiko Noriko hauptsächlich in ihrer Muttersprache Japanisch singt, aber noch viel mehr an ihrer experimentellen Umgangsweise mit elektronischen Beats und Geräuschen jeder Art. Uhrenticken und Tastaturgetippse lassen sich ebenso aus den vielschichtigen Klangkonstruktionen heraushören wie delfinähnliche Geräusche und Glöckchen - alles über einem Bett aus zumeist leise stampfenden Beats oder auch mal Gitarren.
Das Bemerkenswerte an Solo ist, dass sich diese Kollagen keineswegs überladen oder nervös anhören, im Gegenteil: Norikos mädchenhafte Stimme schwebt über den Geräuschen und lullt sie ein, mit leicht gehauchten, japanischen Worthülsen. Durch den sanften Gesang und die leicht monotonen Beats erlangt Norikos Musik eine gewisse meditative Ruhe und erinnert an leichte Nebelschwaden, die zart über die Felder streichen.
Aber wie jede Meditation verlangt auch Solo Zeit und Geduld. Diese Platte liefert keine Hits und keine Anspieltipps, keine schönen Melodien, sie kann nur als kunstvolles Ganzes überzeugen - oder gar nicht. 6/10
Kathrin Kaufmann
INTRO, 04/07
Martin Büsser
RAVELINE, 04/07
Pres. Evil
THE WIRE, 04/2007
As with previous releases, 'Solo' is a rich and chaotic delve into a pop playground of digital processing, but Noriko sounds more relaxed. Whereas stretches of 'Blurred In My Mirror' seemed designed to highlight the defeciencies of her voice, 'Solo' aims for a blissful, floating feel. Opener 'Magic', while hardly squeling 'potential single', unbuttons sufficiently to qualify as catchy. 'Sun!' also has a cycling chorus melody, and is a prime example of Noriko's improvisatory approach. It's as if she gets the song out of the way and then spends two or three minutes playing around with the materials, as the sounds of birds and babies pop in and out of the picture. 'Saigo No Kiss' os another dreamboat experiment, with an intimate, nicely produced vocal.
Noriko's lyrics (95 percent in Japanese) deal with the evergreen topics of love and a failure to get things done. She has an odd tendancy to adopt a male persona, using the male first person singular, 'boku', to address the female 'kimi' (you). 'No Error In My Memory' is a rapidly recited story, like a Haruki Murakami yarn: a boy yearns to become the comic book hero Ultraman, but settles for being George Clooney. Then this 'fake George Clooney' goes missing in Thailand, the increasingly surreal tale spiralling into digitally accelerated vocals.
Not all the experimenting comes off, and there are a couple of character-lacking plodders here. But all ends happily with the breezy fantasy of 'In A Chinese Restaurant'.
Clive Bell
GOMAG, 03/2007
Vidal Romero
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER, 03.07
CYCLIC DEFROST, 14.03.07
This is not to say that Noriko has gone soft. In fact, her music remains much the same as on previous works such as Shojo Tushi and Make Me Hard. At the same time, the album does represent a marked shift away from the irregular rhythms and cryptic textures which Noriko toyed with throughout Blurred In My Mirror. Instead, for this albums nine songs, Noriko lets her nimble programming and quavering tonal centers peak through diaphanous, undulating layers of ambience.
As the album proceeds, it becomes apparent that the work is not thronged with nearly so many ideas as on previous outings. They are a great deal more tempered and patient, though, as tracks avoid sinewy lines or brash techniques, opting instead for a slow build up from delicate timbral pools of astral beauty, to a modest yet limber swing. Still, certain pieces would certainly have benefitted from Noriko’s trademark restless energy and sly use of cut-and-paste techniques. On songs such as ?Spot? and ?In A Chinese Restaurant?, the beats drop out almost entirely, and the warm haze of the bowed and plucked string instruments is shrouded by smears of static and an austere metallic drone like shafts of sun on a summer’s day. The piece conveys a hushed melancholy, yet its barefaced approach to the production of meaning and emotion isn’t as convincing or absorbing as Noriko’s promiscuous play with appearance. Solo once again shows that Noriko is a more than capable sound-sculptor. All the same, it is not one of her stronger works.
Max Schaefer
STYLUS MAGAZINE, 02.03.07
Tujiko’s contemporaries often marry themselves to album-based concepts—reference Björk’s releases or Jimmy Tamborello’s many projects—that reflect their stylistic or technological infatuations at the time. Electronic music is constructed differently now than it was even six years ago. But while Tujiko has been wildly prolific in those six years (six full-lengths, multiple collaborations, and a budding career in directing short film), she’s also walked the fine line between conceptual unity and stagnation. 2005’s Blurred in my Mirror was a dramatic breath of relief simply because its harsher, less song-centered structure departed from her previous work. With Solo, she returns to the aesthetic of previous albums Shojo Toshi, Make Me Hard, and From Tokyo to Naiagara.
Tujiko whispers playful melodies almost completely in Japanese against an electronic landscape that often sounds alien, but never announces itself as unnatural. Sludgy beats lurch the album forward, while synths and glitches envelop her voice without ever overwhelming it. Static is looped, processed, and transformed into instrumental flourishes just as naturally as if she had been playing the flute or strumming the guitar. Her songs are pop, but more than that, they’re also multi-dimensional sound sculptures, revealing new complexities at every angle of observation. Solo finds her near the top of her game with the most immediately rewarding group of melodies and vocal performances she’s ever released. Tujiko is by her very nature a background listen, but Solo’s striking vocals claw their way to full consciousness, tumbling out of controlled dreams into waking life.
YPerhaps Tujiko’s unwavering dedication to exploring her narrow aesthetic slowly and deliberately has become her greatest defining characteristic. Yes, by all standards, there isn’t much difference between the songs of Solo and those of Shojo Toshi. She’s embroiled in her own little form of rockism, except that her “Golden Age” seems to be tween-pop from the 24th century—a style that the indie electro-crit boys will always lust after. Eschewing her contemporaries’ ideas of concept albums as high-minded marriage to product, Tujiko has instead embraced her own concept career.
Mike Orme
BLOW UP, FEBRUARY 2007
"Solo" un disco strano, che sotto il basso profilo di un ascolto facile nasconde trappole e buchi neri, o viceversa dietro il paravento dell'insidiosa collocazione scioglie melodie che toccano il cuore. Chi ama la citate Niobe e OO|OO (ed ha apprezzato il nuovo Mira Calix) sa. (7)
Stefano I. Bianchi
eMEGO 035
Fennesz: Endless Summer CD
And so Fennesz’s surprise turn of 2001, with Endless Summer, was to allow his guitar work to break through at last, often even carrying a discernible melody. The noise was still always there, sprouting around the edges if not in constant bloom, and the melodies still wilted and sank back into the ground as often as they bore fruit, but it was a marked change. For many, it was a marked improvement; the greater pop-sense opened up the beauty of noise to the more traditional beauty of melodic timbre. Listeners who had never before shown an interest in such things found themselves delving deeper, or at least entertaining the possibility of delving deeper, into the once-impenetrable back-catalogue of the Austrian noise-purveyors at Mego. And then the next Fennesz album continued the trajectory into pure ambient texture, and the moment was lost. Endless Summer was the most pivotal, most accessible, and most strikingly unique point in the Fennesz catalogue so far, and one of the more influential noise albums of the early decade.
I suppose that an expanded reissue, then, is a natural choice, but only six years after the initial release it seems a little premature. The shockwaves of the original release are still being felt, in the processed guitar of Nick Forte, and the melody-under-ether of the most recent efforts from former Mego-labelmate Tim Hecker, and it seems as though a few more years could lend greater perspective on Fennesz’s ongoing impact. But then, it seems that the reissue was more a decision of necessity than marketing: the album has been out of print since Mego closed its doors at the end of 2005. As such, Endless Summer was released by Editions Mego, a new imprint created by Mego’s Peter Rehberg both to maintain the back catalogue and cultivate new work. And in light of that, the minor changes of the new edition, which would be meager inducement for old fans to buy a new copy, are more understandable. Fennesz’s new mixdown for the album, quieter but more spacious and allowing the songs slightly more room to breath, is an improvement, but can be a difficult one to spot. And the two additional tracks included at the end, are ultimately unnecessary, especially in light of the original release’s impeccable sequencing.
Six years later, that sequencing, and those tracks, hold up just fine on their own. “Made In Hong Kong” is still as soothingly abrasive (abrasively soothing?) and anchors the album back to Fennesz’s older, more abstract excursions into sound design. It also provides a favorable contrast to the climax of the title tracks’ variations on a half-heard theme, when its gauzy guitar chords, indistinct behind static sheen, finally break through. The album’s “pop” palatability still peaks with the gorgeous vibraphone tones of “Caecilia” and “Before I Leave” still as effective in its CD-skip simplicity. Original closer “Happy Audio” still trudges its 10 minutes of gradual signal degradation gracefully all the way to the white noise horizon. Admittedly, the ideas are a little less fresh and surprising now that they’ve been borrowed and reworked by others, but they still don’t sound dated to an particular period. Unfortunately, the unnecessary bonus tracks mar the original album’s careful sequencing and undercut that still-excellent finish. “Badminton Girl”, never exactly a highlight of Fat Cat’s Split Series 12” collection, is especially unremarkable paired with its A-sides here. And the never-released “Endless”, while at least different enough to warrant a listen, feels unbalanced and washed out in treble.
It is good to see Endless Summer back in print, and perhaps the new edition will serve as motivation to newer ambient noise converts who have found themselves intrigued by more recent releases by Tim Hecker or Chessie, or even Fennesz himself. There’s really nothing here for the old fans, though, except the most obsessive of audiophiles to whom the new, slightly improved mixdown may be enough. I appreciate the gesture of the bonus tracks, but unfortunately, they only get in the way of an album that worked, and still works, best as a single, closed unit.
Nate Dorr
SOMA MAGAZINE, APRIL 2007
Jefre Cantu-Ledesma
IGLOO MAGAZINE, 04.04.2007
It doesn't stop us trying to go back. To Endless Summer? Which... Endless Summer "2001?" It's partly about going back itself, if you see it as a sonic reflection on memory warping perception. But this is Endless Summer "2006 Edition," re-release of a work now iconic in the electronica canon. This places it at a further remove. And in going back, Endless Summer then seems to become more about itself and its own myth, while the "original" was about another endless summer, or rather the myth of it (the Beach Boys linkage). Or not even that so much as a further representation of the myth (remembering that Brian Wilson's "California" was just as much a state of mind as a "real" location). Or a trace of the memory of it. And on and on. It gets slippery. So this new remastered version of Endless Summer is no mere re-release. It's a Cultural Artefact, a Tribal Totem no less, heavy with accumulated resonance, an affair of smoke and mirrors of reference and signification by now. Intertextuality bites.
You can try to go back... to reconnect... the strangeness and familiarity it had about it. There we were in an only lately digitally colonized musical world that largely viewed experimental electronica like a branch of academic computer music - stuff for weirdy-beardy Wire-types to stroke their chins to. There wasn't even a ripple to hint at this new wave of 'emo-tronica' that's all over us like a rash now, no signal that electronica's noise might have a hotline to the heartstrings (or that "glitch" might be absorbed into the everyday as a genre tag). So, this out-there Viennese guitar-wringer Christian Fennesz had had a Big Idea. He seemed to want to fuse different trajectories of the non-mainstream music he'd been steeped in and patch them into pop to jolt free some of the emotive caché at its heart, and, in new wild frontiersman spirit, patent a millenial meltdown music. The Beach Boys somehow got bundled into the vehicle (no matter that the main 2-chord trick was taken from The Sandals' "Theme From the Endless Summer" (1964)), ending up drenched in a laptop-mediated acid-bath writhing in gravel to the sound of granular synthetic wave-crashing. Anyway, that fragment of humdrum humble-strum, transmogrified, became the eddy from which surged a new current of energy in electronic music. So a major part of what Endless Summer signifies now is the inauguration of that Big Wave of Glitch. Digi-Surf's up.
Rewind a bit... to year 2000: in +47° 56' 37" -16° 51' 08, Fennesz had issued an album of such anharmonic clangor it easily qualified for the "noise" appellation. On some tracks the guitar's presence was so compromised by software intervention as to be totally effaced. On Endless Summer, Year 2001, however, though the song did not remain the same, being eaten alive as it played, the guitar and the melody lingered on. So, fast forward to 2006, remastered version, and there's the harmonic autophagy of the title track and its amalgam of microsonic sub- and super-stratum with organic filling. But how to approach it now? We can describe its provenance: how it borrowed from MBV and Sonic Youth, and drew on Oval-derived experimental roots; how the cover art, depicting sunny seascape, and those chords channeling a far-off nostalgic lilt, fed to laptop and eaten up and spat out, goodness eviscerated, left a sound both wired-up and wistful, sliced up and silky, diced up and dreamy; and that faux-naif 2-chord strum, seeming eroded and mangled with jagged-edged resonances, but also channeling sunbursts and breakers - reminiscent melody struggling to out; and "A Year in a Minute" following in similar fashion, to clinch the emotional return on Fennesz's off-kilter melodic powerplay strategy, a radically circuit-bent semi-drone fizzing with crystalline soundbeams. "Caecilia" and "Shisheido," allowed out with their prettiness almost intact, but interfered with, otherized. We can describe all this, but the act of re-release has about it a poignancy - a denial that what is gone, that was never really there in the first place, that was essentially a head-projection - is really gone.
There's no going back, because when we go back again we find that what we recall was never even there. Hear it now, and it emerges that Endless Summer is a false memory. The cold light of day shows: an opening track that doesn't belong, or rather is a residue... a bridge from over-there (noise) to get to over-here (harmony). It dawns: it's a five-verse tone-poem that constitutes Endless Summer, or at least the Endless Summer that resonates in the head, and all that follows is water-treading endnotes. "Before I Leave" now seems merely an exercise in CD-skipping with some Feldmanesque spatial exploration - clever but detached from the summer-storyboard, and the static-y organ-grinding 10-minute closer "Happy Audio" is Riley-Reich stuck in a loop - a sideshow, and more like digitized snowflake dancing after the warmth of the summer, now revealed as having, sadly, an all too palpable end. Not endless, but resonating with endlessnessism.
This recording, then, is not the same as it was, and not just because it's been re-mastered by Christian Fennesz. It's become a symbol... of myth and memory and revisiting, and removal, and it's hard to hear it otherwise now. Endless Summer has become a myth inside a myth that holds another myth. That's how it is to go back to it now. There's no going back. Endless Summer is out now on Editions Mego.
Alan Lockett
HARTFORD ADVOCATE, 27.03.2007
John Adamian
RESIDENTADVISOR.NET, 03.04.2007
Following on from his sun-bleached treatments of Rolling Stones and Beach Boys songs, 'Endless Summer' operates more autonomously, entwining his own languid guitar melodies around swathes of digital processing. While his guitar figures owe something to the surf twang of The Sandals' 'The Endless Summer', the title tune to Bruce Brown's seminal 1964 surfing documentary, Fennesz' album looks more to the whole discourse of sea-and-surf inspired music, literally evoking the rolling waves with grainy, often turbulent fields of noise. Into this wash come ghosts of The Shadows, Dick Dale and Brian Wilson, governed by an aesthetic laid down by fifties exotica pioneers Les Baxter and Martin Denny.
Opener 'Made in Hong Kong' introduces much of what's to come, with jagged shards of static parting to allow rolling guitar chords to circle before being sliced and smudged by layers of distortion. The eight minute title track features a slower, almost bucolic guitar line throughout, with amplified fret squeaks battling streams of froth and feedback, ending in a crescendo of digital fuzz. Marimba notes join the blissed-out strings for 'Caecilia', synthesised crickets taking the place of Arthur Lyman's bird calls as a shimmering fog envelopes the tiki lounge. 'Before I Leave' offers a significant departure, with competing keyboard tones abruptly clipped and juxtaposed to create rapidly shifting rhythmic patterns, dancing like the play of light through a moving windscreen. 'Happy Audio', which closed the original album, patiently wears away an already crumbling loop of grey hiss, tearing its tiny grains into dust as a clearer, more tonal drone sweeps in. Two additional tracks complete the reissue, the lurching 'Badminton Girl' and the brief and understated 'Endless', which, while welcome, are hardly essential.
What's surprising re-hearing 'Endless Summer' is how prickly it now seems, and how this aspect of the album was overlooked upon its initial release. Perhaps Fennesz sounded particularly soft in 2001, or my ears have become blunted by the clearer tones and neater arrangements of today's producers, but the remastering by Denis Blackham does seem to emphasise the album's more pointillistic features. Having been left in the sun for six years, 'Endless Summer' now seems burnt and blistered: a thin layer of grit, like the pops in early Pole recordings, is audible throughout, and jagged moments, such as opens 'Made in Hong Kong', appear sharpened. With global warming now a concern known and shared by everyone, this excellent album today resonates with additional, more sinister meanings.5/5
Joshua Meggitt
ROCK-A-ROLLA, 03/07
Scott McKeating
CLONE, 03.2007
Vidal Romero
ORKUS, 04/07
D-SIDE, 03/07
ROCKDELUX, 03/07
En 1998, el austríaco había publicado un single, "Plays", con dos versiones: "Paint It Black" de The Rolling Stones y "Don't Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)" de The Beach Boys. Esta segunda fue la semila y, también, la pista principal para abordar tres anos después la audición de "Endless Summer". Con My Bloody Valentine y The Durutti Column en el subconsciente y los glitches casi aparcados ("Made In HongKong" abre el disco con un rugoso crepitar digital que a poco queda adormecido), Fennesz se sumerge en una creación profundamente melódica y apaciguada entre el pop (evidente en "Shisheido") y el ambient ("A Year In A Minute" o la desatascadora sinfonia "Happy Audio"). No obstante, trasciende ambos géneros depurando unas texturas que, pese a su origen electrónico, poseen un desconcertante tacto orgánico. Y no es sólo por el sonido de guitara que se intuye en "Endless Summer"; tabien por el guino definitivo a los Beach Boys de "Caecilia", donde planea el mismisimo "God Only Knows".
"Endless Summer" ha cumplido seis anos sin una sola arruga. Y eso no ocurre tan a menudo en el sector de la vanguardia. La reedición, con portada en plan catálogo de viajes, anade "Badminton Girl" (parece del mismo disco, pero es un split de Main) y el inédito retal "Endless". Podrían haber sumadpo también el single "Plays", ¿no? Kando Cruz
MUSIC-SCAN 20.02.07
FLUCTUAT, 15.02.2007
Posté par Maxence le 15.02.07
Excellente initiative du label autrichien Mego (dont les activités reprennent après une interruption d'un an, sous le nom d'Editions Mego) que cette réédition du mythique Endless Summer de Fennesz originalement paru en 2001.
"Où va le rock ?" se demandait le rock critique Lester Bangs en 1975 dans un article de Creem sur Kraftwerk. "Il est en cours de capture par les Allemands et les machines" répondait-il quelques lignes plus loin. On ne peut que constater aujourd'hui, à l'heure d'un revival krautrock galopant et d'une techno majoritairement teutonne, combien il avait raison. C'est particulièrement vrai en ce qui concerne cet éternel été Fenneszien, et cela, même si son auteur est en fait autrichien.
Fennesz, guitariste de formation a débuté sa carrière au sein d'un groupe nommé Maische. Sous influence Sonic Youth et My Bloody Valentine, Maische joui d'un succès local mais ne donne pas libre court à toute l'inventivité de Fennesz, qui entame une carrière solo en 1990. Il se fait remarquer en 1997 avec Hotel Paral.lel, un coup de maître mariant machines et guitares dans un festival de saturation et de bleep évoquant parfois la balade au c¦ur des machines de Pan Sonic (alors Panasonic) ou Jim O'Rourke dans ses travaux les plus abstraits. Après de nombreuses collaborations, dont le fameux Fenn O'Berg avec le même O'Rourke, Fennesz accouche de son chef d'¦uvre : Endless Summer. Inspiré par la pop des Beach Boys (dont il reprend le titre d'un fameux documentaire) mais également placé sous l'égide des techniques développées par le musicien depuis Hotel Paral.lel, Endless Summer est à l'electronica ce que Sergent Peppers fut à la pop ou Loveless au shoegazer, l'album de la consécration. Cette union de laptop et de guitare filtrée est particulièrement réussie sur l'éponyme "Endless Summer" et ses arpèges pop se développant après une hésitation de hoquets et de drones. Un morceau que n'aurait pas renié Brian Wilson s'il avait été équipé d'un home studio dernier cri. Sur "A year In A Minute" et "Happy Audio" Fennesz nous rappelle aux bons souvenirs d'un Kevin Shields au sommet de sa forme, tandis que "Made In Hong Kong" ou "Caecillia" explore le domaine post-rock en repoussant encore plus loin ses propositions. Mélodies et abstractions dans un parfait équilibre, c'est l'alchimie idéale qui fait d'Endless Summer l'album culte qui ouvrira la voie à la scène laptop et guitare que nous connaissons aujourd'hui, de Donato Warthon à Leo Abrahams, en passant par Ashis Mahapatra ou Robert Hampson/Main. Notez que cette édition a été entièrement remastérisée par Fennesz lui-même et qu'il bénéficie de deux magnifiques inédits : "Badminton Girl" et "Endless". Les curieux ne manqueront pas de se rendre sur le profil myspace du bonhomme pour y découvrir "A year in a Minute" et "Endless Summer", deux parfaits exemples de ce que peut offrir l'union guitare/machines portée à son paroxysme par le talent d'un artiste comme Fennesz.
TRIGGEFISH, 02.2007
Jene, die diese oder ähnliche profane Erwartungen hatten, als “Endless Summer" 2001 erschien, dürften angesichts des Wechselspiels aus beinah lieblicher Frickelei und scharfkantigen Digitalnoise-auf-Gitarrenbasis Tracks ziemlich verwundert aus der Wäsche geschaut haben. Für die Neuauflage des Albums hat sich Christian Fennesz nochmals im Studio eingeschlossen und einen neuen Mix angefertigt, der den Wunsch nach einem transparenteren Klangbild Rechnung trägt und zusätzlich noch zwei Bonustracks, einer davon unveröffentlicht, draufgelegt.
Wer die Entwicklung der Gitarrenmusik mit dem Tod von Hendrix für beendet hält und nicht versteht, warum ein Laptop manchmal wichtiger als ein Marshall-Amp ist, wird die Schönheit, die in diesen mitunter karg wirkenden Klängen steckt, vermutlich weder sehen können noch begreifen wollen. Der Rest schwelgt in purer ästhetischer Erhabenheit. 5/6
Sascha Bertoncin
SENTIREASCOLTARE, 02.2007
La scaletta non differisce dall’originale ma Fennesz la lavora dall’interno, gioca d’equalizzazione, amplia le profondità e spazialità dei layer. Alcuni brani risultano migliorati e maggiormente avvolgenti (l’incanto-incantato di Cecilia, la piece pop siderale di Happy Audio i drappi di xilofoni di Before I Leave) ma è il corpus complessivo a resistere alla prova del tempo. Placente chitarristico-ambientali, maree digitali sconfinate, turbini di scrosci dove, in assenza d’appigli, non si può che arrendersi all’infinitamente estivo, al perenne tramontare. Questa la pasta di Endless Summer, un lavoro che incarna l’astratto delle prime prove e lo coagula nell’intelligibilità, nei rimandi al mistero, nella metafisica. In definitiva, è il trionfo dell’amore eterno, e dunque, dell’eterna dannazione. La tristezza cosmica che da Brian Wilson punta a Leopardi. Il lavorio dell’inconscio dietro ai mercoledì da leoni e ai sabato del villaggio (A Year In A Minute - capolavoro). È disponibile anche la ristampa del prodromo di tutto ciò, Fennesz Plays, lo stargate per il mondo dei Beach Boys e dei Rolling Stones sognato dai My Bloody Valentine. Con due mandati del genere, Fennesz è senatore a vita.
Edoardo Bridda
OCTOPUS, 02.2007
Laurent Catala
DZIENNIK 01.2007
Ce roku ukazują się wyjątkowe reedycje klasyków popu ostatniego półwiecza. Starczy wspomnieć serie odnalezionych i zmiksowamych na nowo nagrań The Beatles i Milesa Davisa. Teraz czas na wznawianie arcydzieł XXI wieku. Pierwszym jest "Endless Summer" Fennesza.
Jeszcze kilka lat temu takie hasła, jak "post-rock". "post-techno" czy "glitch", wywoływaly w fanach muzyki żywe emocje. Dziś można sobie darować wymysly ambitnych dziennikarzy i posłuchać "Endless Summer" bez obciążeń. To esencja najważniejszych poszukiwań młodej muzyki przełomu wieków. Album oryginalnie wydany w 2001 roku właśnie pojawil się w nowej edycji. Fennesz raz jeszcze zremiksował cały materiał i wzbogacił o niepublikowane wcześniej fragmenty. Najważniejsze, że calość nie straciła siły wyrazu, chociaż sześć lat na scenie muzyki elektronicznej, gdzie często liczą się techniczne nowinki, to cała epoka.
Jeśli ktoś myśli, że ten album jest dźwiękowką dedykowaną snobom od awangardy, bardzo się myli. Sekret polega na tym, iź Austriak połączył eksperymentalny pazur z ogromnym łandunkiem emocji. "Endless Summer" jest płytą pełną melancholijnego piękna stworzonego poprzez nową wrażliwość epoki informacji i cyfrowyach technologii. W tytule płyty (Niekończące sie lato) i plaźowych obrazkach z okładki znajdziemy nawiązanie do słynnej grupy The Beach Boys. Liryczna ballada rockowa, której Kalifornijczycy byli arcymistrzami, jest formułą, którą Fennesz przywołuje jako rzecz bliską sobie, jednocześnie ją przezwycięża. Przecież to najpopulrniejszy we współczesnej muzyce wehikuł opowiećci o tęsknocie za piękniejszym światem. I jako taki zdążył już popaść w stereotyp i kicz. Fennesz zryway z tą tradycją lecz zamiast rewolucji wybiera medytację.
Muzyce z "Endless Summer" nie brak romantycznych melodii, marzycielskich przestrzeni i egzotycznych barw, a jednak nieustannie balansuje ona na krawędzi chaosu. Szumy, trzaski, zapętlenia i skwiereczencia drobnych cyfrowych hałasów brzmiące niczym odglosy usterek czy dźwięlowe brudy są wszechobecne. Można odnieść wraźenie, iż daje o sobie znać nadmiar informacji i ich zakłócenia - echa doświadczeń mieszkańców globanej wioski. Ale nie ma tu podziału na dźwięki ładne i brzydkie, porządek i nieład. Album zaskakuje spójnością. Liryczna piosenka rozluźnia formę, zmieniając się w emocjonalny pejzaż. Fennesz odnajduje w nim nowe piękno jako ulotną konstrukcję zaistniałą tylko na chwilę w chaosoe świata, który nie poddaje się naszej potrzebie porządku tak łatwo, jak byśmy chcieli.
Rafał Księżyk, "Playboy"
BLOW UP, FEBRUARY 2007
DELUSIONS OF ADEQUACY, 29.01.2007
If there are those of you concerned about Fennesz' fiddling with the mixing on his masterpiece, let me put your fears to rest. When I first heard that he would be remixing the record for its reissue I couldn't imagine what could possibly be improved from the original version, until I finally heard Endless Summer on vinyl. The warm crackling tones and sunken melodies coming out of a thick slab of black vinyl as opposed to the original mix of the CD left me with the impression that there might indeed be room for a little tweaking. The Editions Mego version of the album brings its sound far closer to the vinyl than I could have ever imagined. The noisier parts of the record have been brought to the forefront, giving its transitions from post-shoegazer bliss to pure noise a more jarring effect than the original CD's mix. Songs like "A Year in a Minute" with its undulating layers of treated guitar and synthesizer or the shifting sections of noise blast and drift on "Made in Hong Kong" show a depth still unmatched by any of Fennesz' contemporaries.
The addition of bonus tracks "Badminton Girl" and "Endless" was a great way to grab the attention of fans who might otherwise be tempted to keep the version of Endless Summer they already own. While "Badminton Girl" was previously available on the out-of-print split 12" on Fatcat with Main, this is the first appearance of "Endless." While neither of these tracks is worthy of being included in the context of the actual record, as such they might spoil its excellent development and continuity, they are wisely tacked on to the end of the album. "Badminton Girl" is the kind of track you'd expect from an Endless Summer outtake, all glitchy noise overwhelming otherwise beautiful guitar pop. "Endless" is a short swooning drone that dissipates into sweet nothingness, effectively ending the album.
Fans of last years' fave Tim Hecker and his Harmony in Ultraviolet would do well to pick this up and see where that sound really began to find its voice. Endless Summer is a record that sounds just as fresh now as it did in 2001. This is exactly the kind of record you'll still be listening to ten years from now. It's that good. Seriously.
Joe Davenport
THE WIRE, FEBRUARY 2007
The first impression is the difference in the remastered sound - deep and warm, with forceful bass and surging trebles. The half-present, half absent sound of laptop glitsch electronica, so common among Fennesz and his peers five years ago - as if the medium itself were compressed or corrupted, and on the verge of dissolving into the ether - is replaced by more robust, less elusive textures. Looking back, perhaps the old glitch aesthetic was an expression of millennial technofear, an attempt to evoke (and celebrate) the incursion of ones and zeroes into modern life. As technology has taken a more user friendly aspect., the style has all but disappeared and now seems as much an affectation as using creating faux old-time blues records with expensive digital effects. In any case, 'Endless Summer' in remastered form exudes an even greater sensuousness than before and lke, Brian Wilson's outfit in their prime, each instrumental element sounds like it is being discovered afresh, each track a miniatrue voyage. of discovery.
The two bonus tracks are both guitar-free experiments and their omission from the orginal release is understandable, given its use of succint, capsule-like song structures to lodge itself in the memory. 'Enldess' is a mere airy afterthought, but the fizzing soundscape and dubby echoes of 'Badminton Girl' would not be out place on the Chain Reaction label. Its remistatement to this new edition extends the blissful horizons of 'Endless Summer' just a little but further.
Derek Walmsley
LOST AT SEA, 18.01.2007
Endless Summer was Fennesz?s breakthrough album, elevating him from the experimental electronics of Plus Forty Seven Degrees 56' 37" Minus Sixteen Degrees 51' 08" to a more accessible realm. To be sure, Plus Forty Seven Degrees made for an interesting, curious listen, but it never sounded like the end product. Following on just a year later Endless Summer took on the same exploratory principles, but applied them to a new framework ? pop.
Although to my knowledge it has never been made official, Endless Summer was all about reapplying pop music to unlikely formats. While Fennesz?s guitar was his main source, he was never content to let its traditional form play too great a role. Instead, he reconfigured it, letting chords resonate freely, layering the results, and drenching them in delay so that the instrument took on a completely different form. This basis was then worked around simple pop melodies and structures, and Fennesz?s marriage of hazy electronics and hummable hooks was born.
And why not? The whole verse-chorus-verse-chorus thing has worked for decades - not least for Fennesz?s beloved Beach Boys ? so why wouldn?t a capable individual seek to apply that format to a new, modern framework? Granted, noisy electronics and melody are no strangers to each other, but Endless Summer stands out as somehow sounding more pop than electronic, as a reworking of free-flowing sounds onto a solid grid, which had never been done before.
Opener "Made in Hongkong" is as purely electronic as Endless Summer gets ? glitchy, percussive, noisy even, yet retaining a sense of melody, albeit cluttered. The title track, however, is where Fennesz really finds his niche. Based around a swinging two-chord progression, it twists the conventional sound of the guitar into an intentionally noisy haze, shining through the bursts of static that carefully define one layer from another. The dynamic "A Year in a Minute" sustains a melancholic riff through crushing waves of white noise and static, while "Got to Move On" exhibits Fennesz?s claim that music can sound fast even without a beat. The bonus tracks, "Badminton Girl" (which previously appeared on a split 12-inch with Main on FatCat) and the previously unreleased "Endless" offer little in comparison, but nevertheless detract nothing from this superb album.
Unlike most reissues, the reason that this incarnation of Endless Summer has surfaced is not to move units, but so that those already acquainted can sing its praises all over again. On one hand, it?s possible to dissect Endless Summer and explore its origins and meanings and gain pleasure from attempting to understand it on a deeper level, but sitting back and soaking in the beauty is just as rewarding.
FOXY DIGITALIS, 17.01.2007
“Made in Hong Kong” begins the album with an ominous rumble fading to a phased melody, a decayed pop vision. The ghost of a I-IV-V chord progression dances in and out, so subtle that it takes several listens to even discern it. The fragmentation of this song incongruously reminds me of several moments on Fugazi’s "Instrument" album, ones where the band’s demos, heard in brief and out of context, sound like beautifully muffled, half-remembered fever dreams rather than the customary aggro punches. Grand-sounding riffs became confused mutterings; clear-eyed prophets spaced out. “Made in Hong Kong” is Fennesz digitally giving the same disorienting treatment to a chord progression that, beefed up, would sound like “Baba O’Riley;” but here Fennesz reinvents it wholesale, scrambling the chords we know should be locked together with alternately dense and airy noise.
Whether underlined or implied, none of Fennesz’ melodies are grandiose affairs, or even the kind of chiming, happy bursts we know from decades of rock and pop music; they’re humble, sad stutters, linear paths of a kind recognizable to bedroom 4-trackers, who used to shroud them in tape hiss just as Fennesz cloaks them in computer buzz. The halting utterances of “Caecilia,” “Shisheido,” and new bonus track “Badminton Girl” thus feel instantly familiar. They’re egalitarian gestures in the sometimes aloof world of electronic music.
The title track is a tour-de-force for this approach. An acoustic figure comes to the fore over a bed of bleeps and squeaks. Waves of those electronic sounds begin to wash over the familiar strum, but placid languor is not entirely the order of the day; a prickly buzz inserts itself mid-track, and, just as quickly, vanishes with an abrupt click. A simplistic formula for the dialogue in Fennesz’ music would be Guided-by-Voices guitar versus Autechre sonics, but Fennesz makes the two elements cooperate, bleed into one another, to produce a whole that can’t truly be broken down to component parts like that.
That the album proper closes with the agitated crumple of “Happy Audio” does not defuse Fennesz’ explorations of melody, but rather amplifies them. The relative absence of melody on some pieces, and its ascension to the fore on others, may be exactly what Fennesz wants us to think about: the ebb and flow of pleasantness in music, or in life. The album’s Beach-Boy-cop of a title, then, becomes ironic; summer isn’t endless, and its romanticized images – the wide-open, friendly melodies of its songs, the haze in the sky as the sun sets – cannot remain. Summer’s plain delights, or the chances at happiness they suggest, are not constant, but fleeting. Beaches darken, and static overtakes songs. 9/10 Sal Addays
PITCHFORKMEDIA, 10.01.2007
That notion kept running through my head while returning to this record, despite the different context. Time has indeed laid a veil of poetry Endless Summer, not that it needed it. It's aged very well, but there's more going on hearing it in 2007 than just revisiting a good record. From the beginning, this album was about memory, decay, and reference; it wondered how deeply an original idea could become distorted and still retain its content. Fennesz used digital bits to refract and bend ideas about warmth in pop music, and his work has been mellowing in history's dark cellar. Which is to say, Endless Summer sounds even better now.
It also sounds very 2001 somehow, and not just because it basically soundtracked the second half of that insane year for me. There's something almost naïve going on in some of these tracks, despite the music's careful construction. For all the guitar/computer interface we've heard since, nothing has sounded as naked as the simply strummed chords of the title track. They sway in front and force you to hear the strings and body in a new way because of their presence on an experimental record issued by Mego. Fennesz had it down conceptually. He borrowed the chords from the Sandals' 1964 instrumental "Theme From the Endless Summer" and immersed the changes in 10 feet of crashing water, a wall of prickly sound that drives your face into a sharp layer of broken seashells. And that is the entry point.
Even when the guitars hang back a bit and let the processing provide most of the texture, there is still song structure and melody. The opening "Made in Hongkong" serves as a transition from the world of his previous record, the striking but comparatively challenging Plus Forty Seven Degrees 56' 37" Minus Sixteen Degrees 51' 08", meeting that blizzard of noise halfway with rolling chords and bits of a tune and then carrying the heavy stuff into this warmer, more welcoming place. "A Year in a Minute" is a canny exercise in stasis, pointing to film drama in a drone piece that seems to shoot beams of sound toward the sky like a rotating klieg light. "Caecilia" is as nakedly pretty as Fennesz has allowed his music to get to date, all delicate quivers, the feeling of excited nervousness made into sound. And then there are the few merely good moments that keep the original Endless Summer from perfection. The CD-skipping exercise "Before I Leave" is pleasant but insubstantial, and the static-heavy, organ-driven 10-minute closer "Happy Audio" is terrific but seems to come from a slightly different disc.
I'm not crazy about the idea of reissuing records in a new edition only a few years after they first come out, even if the album in question is a "classic" like this one. Fennesz, it seems, knew what he was doing when he designed his original track list, and the two new bonus tracks here won't add much to the legacy. "Badminton Girl", originally released in 2001 on a Fat Cat split, is quite nice but sounds a bit like a sketch for "Made in Hongkong", without the constant sense of change. The previously unreleased "Endless" is of even less consequence, consisting of just a quiet hum without much in the way of mood.
No matter, Endless Summer still works fantastically well and if this reissue allows a few new people to enjoy it, all the better. It wasn't just Fennesz' artistic breakthrough, but the breakthrough for a new style of electronic music that found a way to channel the latest developments in software into something that worked the way music has always worked and had appeal beyond just the genre heads. It was also Pitchfork's No. 2 album of 2001, which is sort of amazing. The only downside is that it set the bar too high, to a place none of the many followers since have managed to clear. 9.5
Mark Richardson
PITCHFORKMEDIA, 03.01.2007
Originally released as part of a split 12" on FatCat, "Badminton Girl" is tacked on as a bonus track to the Endless Summer reissue. The tracks is certainly in line with Fennesz's work just after the turn of the millennium, as he cycles through chords that in another era would serve as the foundation for a rock song, but here are pounded into shapes imaginable only through software. There's a melancholy tug as overtones hover and cluster into something resembling bells, while fat pipes of guitar distortion are sucked through chutes too narrow, stuttering hesitantly before rushing into the darkness in steady waves. A sketch, for sure, and not quite worthy of the multi-layered complexity of the album it's now paired with, but still demonstrative of the man's finely tuned ear and instantly identifiable sound. Mark Richardson
BOSTON PHOENIX 02.01.2007
Matthew Gasteier
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER 24.11.2006
ALBUM OF THE WEEK
eMEGO 020
Fennesz: Plays 10" vinyl
Mira Calix
THE WIRE, JANUARY 2007
Sam Davies
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER 20.10.2006
SINGLE OF THE WEEK
eMEGO 084
KTL CD
Werner Reiter
COKEMACHINGLOW, 17.03.2007
Then again, you may also have to set this in the tradition of black metal. KTL is glitch sculptor Rehberg’s collaboration with Sunn O)))’s Stephen O’Malley -- from the sounds of things, it was fallen into more than planned -- and the results are…depressing? Brutal? Beautiful? Creepy? Fans of either musician might guess what to expect here (although fans of O’Malley might be more receptive); believe me, despite liner information that suggests some of these tracks were recorded in a sunny garden, sunshine ain’t part of it. There are six tracks, but there are really just three songs: “Estranged,” the quiet intro, “Forest Floor,” the caustic middle, and “Snow,” the dappling outro. It’s like an atom bomb sandwiched between two slices of air.
The tracks don’t necessarily move forward so much as find a whirlpool and swirl, unspinning waves of brittle noise and sub-frequency drones. Opener “Estranged” is almost twenty-five minutes of rustic mutilation; various objects seep into the opening organ drone that sets off the album: filtered washes of cranky synth, soft breathy notes that compound the opening chord, creaking door hinges, and O’Malley’s severely resonant and painfully slow guitar riffs. The song is a testament to the limits of this kind of music -- exactly how long can you expect an audience to stay with this scattered noise? I tend to look favorably on the track in the sense that when O’Malley does finally let loose (I mean, as loose as O’Malley ever gets, which means crunch tone and feedback and maybe a slightly larger pick) Rehberg subtly changes the tone of the backing wash and the track suddenly picks up momentum out of the exact same qualities that kept it going in circles.
The “Forest Floor” suite comes closer to the kind of distorted experimentation I expect most fans are looking for. We get that quivering distortion as a backdrop that sounds like buzzing zombie bees, or every millisecond set on hyperflange, but also the tone keeps wavering in pitch, making it impossible to dig into the chords with any real foothold. Below, spastic bass dives are paired with enveloping feedback drones; here is where the real rhythm exists, pushing the track along whatever happens topside. And above, flashes of sonic spray suffocating under grain delays -- that substitute as percussion -- and random bursts of high-pitched guitar noise. And then the whole thing stutters into some stunning feedback manipulation from O’Malley, before Rehberg returns with his thrumming backdrop. The qualities repeat for each section; it’s the backdrop that changes. The second part opens with screeching feedback compressed into an almost-riff under which O’Malley launches hilariously chunky chords. It’s like a foley artist with a penchant for necromancy doing a train noise. This combination underpins the remainder of the track; Rehberg again modifies the tone with slight adjustments to some organ chords and other barely audible noise that looms in the background. The third is all straightforward anger; sludgy distortion that erupts into feedback and weird little tangents that almost sound like a gate effect about to create some form of beat. Part four begins like a sped-up sample from an old horror movie; O’Malley runs through chords on his guitar while Rehberg slowly folds noise samples on top, again vaguely suggesting percussion but mostly just building the tension of O’Malley’s already blistering fretwork.
“Snow” follows from “Forest Floor” with some really neat interplay between the two musicians, and there is enough of a sense of forward momentum in this sparse section of the track to make it stand out from the rest of the album. O’Malley creates percussive effects on his guitar while a whingy whistling synth noise adds color in the background. It sounds like phrase samplers are being employed to great effect; O’Malley slowly winds new guitar noises around the old ones and Rehberg opens the filters up on the white noise in the back. For something that is essentially an anti-climax to “Forest Floor,” it’s amazing how engaging this piece is.
KTL is pretty uncompromising, so if you don’t like this kind of grating music, this probably isn’t going to change your mind. On the other hand, beautiful moments like “Forest Floor 2,” “3,” and “Snow” show just how gorgeous a more formal collaboration between these two musicians could be. When “Snow” peters off into oblivion, I don’t care how punishing the music is -- I want to hear way more.
Mark Abraham
GONZO 02.07
BEAT, 02.2007
Vidal Romero
OCTOPUS, 02.2007
Jean-Marc Clogenson
ALL MUSIC, 09.02.2007
François Couture
DAGHEISHA, 08.02.2007
Roberto Michieletto
FLUCTUAT, 05.02.2007
Avec Altar, dernière collaboration en date du power combo japonais Boris et de SunnO))), on pensait avoir atteint la limite de l'avant-doom ou du power ambiant (comme l'appelle avec "humour", le "SunnO))) en chef", Stephen O'Malley). Même quand il était traversé de moments de génie comme l'énorme "Akuma No Kuma" (un track doom metal chanté au vocoder !), cet album de stoner au ralenti, lardé d'éclairs de fureur et soutenu par l'assaut infini de drones assassines, semblait devoir s'arrêter un jour, faute de carburant. Erreur ! La fusion du metal le plus dark a tendance sludge avec les musiques électroniques les plus pointues accouche d'un nouveau monstre : KTL ! Signé sur Editions Mego, la nouvelle incarnation du label autrichien dédié aux expérimentations électroniques extrêmes (Merzbow, Fuckhead, Hecker, pour ne citer qu'eux), KTL est composé de Pita (aka Peter Rehberg) et Stephen O'Malley (SunnO))), Khanate). Si nous signalions il y a peu, avec le cas d'Isis, l'union de ces deux genres auparavant diamétralement opposés (l'électro cérébrale d'un côté, le metal barbare de l'autre), force est de constater qu'aujourd'hui, les choses ne sont plus aussi claires. Peter Rehberg et O'Malley, en monstres sacrés de la noise music, ont pris un malin plaisir à balader l'auditeur. Composé de six longues pièces instrumentales d'ambiant-metal très (très) dark, KTL est originalement destiné à illustrer une pièce de théâtre co-signée par Gisèle Vienne et par l'écrivain transgressif Dennis Cooper (sorte de William Burroughs du 21ième siècle, version sang, sueur et sperme de jeunes garçons). Présenté comme un combat entre la lumière et les ténèbres, l'album tient ses promesses dés "Estranged", un premier titre épique de plus de 23 minutes. Morceau spatiale à l'introduction étonnaments lumineuses, "Estranged" s'assombrit peu à peu, découpé par les traits de guitare désordonnés et acéré de O'Malley. Des brèches au rasoir d'où suinte soudain l'obscurité. Suivent 4 pièces de pures saturations oscillant entre 7 et 13 minutes. Un festival écrasant de sons saturés plus ou moins brutaux, que nos deux heavy droners poursuivent manifestement sans états d'âmes pour l'auditeur. On retiendra surtout "Forestfloor 4" et sa longue agonie. Un exercice de haut vol, où la guitare de O'Malley semble tourbilonner comme un faux au dessus d'une plaine désolé, soutenue par le sourd grognement électronique de Pita. L'album se referme (c'est le mot) sur "Soom", un exercice d'ambiant malsain, mais dont la tonalité linéaire est presque reposante après les assauts frontaux précédents. Entre drones convulsifs, bourdonnements et saturation ultime, KTL ravira ceux qui ont pris leur pied à l'écoute d'"Etna", ou de "Blood Swamp" (morceau culte de la collaboration Boris/SunnO))) dans lequel Kim Thayil de Soundgarden vient se défouler de quelques névroses pas très saine). Enorme pièce de pur noise rock passif, KTL est à déconseillé aux dépressifs et aux hamsters.
NOISY NEIGHBOURS, 01.07
Das hier vorliegende Projekt von Stephen O'Malley (Sunn O))), Khanate) und Peter Rehberg (PITA) ist aus einer Zusammenarbeit für die Theaterproduktion zu "Kindertotenlieder" von Gisele Vienne und Dennis Cooper entstanden. Dabie ist KTL allerdings nicht der Soundtrack zum Theaterstück, sondern fungiert als eigenständiges Projekt. Ein 24minütiger unglaublich finsterer Drone eröffnet dieses Album. Immer wieder tauchen Stimmen, ein Grollen und psychotische Geräusche aus dem Hintergrund auf. Ein wahrhaftiges Albtraumstück. In ähnlicher Horrorsoundmanier geht es auf den anderen fünf Stücken, davon keines unter acht Minuten, weiter. Mal mit Blackmetal-Gitarren, verquerer Elektronik oder noisigem Elektrobrutzeln als Fundament. Bis dato ist mir noch keine Musik begegnet, die so pyschotisch-finster und verstörend wirken kann. Und dabei hat man geglaubt, dass O'Malley mit dem letzten Sunn O))) Album schon den abgründigsten Punkt seiner dunklen Seele gefunden hätte. Ein zäher Psychobrocken von Sound.
Christian Eder
BRAINWASHED, 28.01.2007
O’Malley and Rehberg paired up to form KTL in order to soundtrack a theatrical work by Gisèle Vienne and Dennis Cooper. The work is called Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the Death of Children), after Gustav Mahler’s musical adaptations of Friedrich Rückert’s poetry. Judging from pictures on the web, Vienne and Cooper’s work is heavily influenced by the Knecht Ruprecht and Krampus traditions of Germanic Europe, as well as using strange dummies of young girls dressed in black metal shirts and hoodies. The music here is not the actual soundtrack for the theatrical work but it is related to the soundtrack according to the sleeve notes. Along with the notes in the booklet come images of anonymous long haired figures and robed beings ascending a staircase, perhaps a nod to the classic cinematic tension in a horror film before the inevitable terror.
The disc's mood is set with the 25-minute long opener, "Estranged," where the feeling of impending doom seeps like blood through a mattress. It is a musical purgatory acting as a prelude into the depths of hell. Hell in this case appears to be a forest as the next four tracks, "Forestfloor 1-4," are inhospitable and startling. Rehberg's contribution becomes more pronounced as shards of noise and sound rip through the mix like glass from a cannon. For the first two parts, O’Malley goes for fast tremolo picking instead of his usual play a chord and holding it for a couple of days approach. The end result is a cold blast reminiscent of some of the winds knifing through the northern hemisphere the last few weeks. The third and fourth parts of "Forestfloor" see O'Malley return to the slow dirge that he is famous for, at the same time Rehberg's equipment sounds like it is on its last legs.
The album finishes with "Snow," which, despite its pretty name, continues the dread that has permeated KTL from the very beginning. The uneasy quietness is deeply unsettling following the chaos of "Forestfloor," only reverb-drenched ambience and a distant high pitched squeal break the silence. It sounds like the unnatural stillness of the aftermath of something violent and bloody. It closes off the album perfectly; there is no real sense of closure per se but instead a feeling of a lucky escape. Next time whatever creature is stalking through the forest might just win.
John Kealy
PAPER THIN WALLS 26.01.2007
Revising Revisionist History, Lesson 1: Folks never cared about doom-drone progenitors Earth until Sunn O))) came around. Revising Revisionist History, Lesson 2: Sunn O))) maintained a “black metal” core long before the lauded, now-you-tell-me Black One. Nothing’s shocking, really: Black metal and drone have always been all-too-convenient bedfellows, from Darkthrone’s one-and-a-half-riff(s) Transilvanian Hunger onwards and even before. No news here.
So, Sunn O))) dude Stephen O’Malley and Pita’s Peter Rehberg team up in France and record under the handle KTL. It’s drone, all right, and even a bit doomed. And O’Malley even purports “Trashed Black Metal/Electronics; DABM = Digital Analogue Black Metal.” Er, not really. Nothing really “happens” until about eight minutes into the eponymous album, some squawks and squiggles, plucks and plongs and cyclotrons, and on and on but to little event for another 16 minutes or so, and hardly any more “black metal” than anything else SO’M has been involved in outside of the long-ago-and-far-away Thorr’s Hammer (read: not much).
But then we get this whole four-part “Forest Floor” suite, and the black-metalled fireworks come out. Well, sorta. You hear that tremeloed riff? Yeah, that’s a black metal riff. This track, then, is where the most “happens.” And guess what? It sounds like Black One. Which, aside from that album’s occasional vocal element, pretty much sounds like Sunn’s Grimrobe Demos. So, KTL sound like Sunn O))) who sound like Earth but with contemporaneous awareness of nascent Norwegian black metal (namely: said Darkthrone album, pre-jailbird Burzum, first Enslaved EP). Naff track in its blackdoomdroneandsprinklersounds sound and more or less reprised on “Forest Floor 4,” with a ton of squiggle 'n' gurgle in between those two parts, and then a whole lot of nothing to round out the record. But keep track of the context. Should impress folks who don’t know “history,” then. - NATHAN T. BIRK
ANIMAL PSI 19.01.2007
The beauty of creating a new subgenre by glueing together two well-defined, preexisting subgenres is that you can jump from place to place within the broadened conglomerate and no one can cry foul as exactly this is promised in the title. DABM is located in two such distinct sonic terrains, though this is not to suggest that these terrains resemble an either/or cleavage. ‘KTL’ is bookended by the massive “Estranged” (25 minutes) and slightly-reduced “Snow” (13 minutes), both barren canvases of bleak electronic oscillation (Rehberg at work), the former peeling with minor ornaments of strings (O’Malley’s detail) and equally-subtle washes of static tension. It feels as though at any moment the guitars, clanging like chapel bells, will come alive in song. Instead, as though tethered to the frozen hum of the floor, the guitar only chokes itself in struggle. The central portion of the album, four tracks entitled “Forest Floor”, plays like the internal torment suggested from without in the opening piece: the subdued guitar wails and worries in part one, surrounded by the swarm and slither of electronic menace, a bass strum regularly renewing itself in the narrative of distress. This progression is punctuated in a moment of collapse, as erratic blasts of feedback whip out at all angles, quickly fading, the theme reappearing in three other locales, each an altered configuration of the poles of strings and electronics. The final movement is an eight minute fury of guitar, swarming in a black mass like a cloud, emitting bolts of electricity as it dissembles an animal groan beneath. Powerfully ugly, the album works between these points and scantier moments of grace, such as closer “Snow”: less a reprise of the submissive introduction than a futile attempt at returning to this state of control following the abuse of “Forest Floor”, the elements will not remain still, protruding and retreating, whipping above the groan of sea-sick oscillations. The presence of a mediator is only felt in the last minute, as what resembles footsteps or wings batting accompanies the violence of an unplugging guitar, metal twists and whimpers to the end.
The noise dynamic of the central tracks - particularly when considering all tracks from open to close - remains within ideal range, never straying into the “extreme” register of a, say, Merzbow – a register which would have repositioned the album as experiment and further from composition, breaking the theme at least partially inspired by the instigating dramatic production. Far darker than the majority releases Mego is known for, while exploratory to a point rarely reached in most black metal releases; a brilliant collaboration and successful assertion of the DABM manifesto. CD comes in a crappy jewel-case with wicked black and silver prints on slick inserts.
ORKUS 02/07
ROCK-A-ROLLA 01/07
D-SIDE 01/07
LES INROCKUPTIBLES 01/07
POPMATTERS, 18.01.2007
VICE 01.07
LEGACY 12.06
Neben O'Malley ist Pitas Peter Rehberg beteiligt, und die Kollaboration der beiden entspringt der gemeinsamen Arbeit an dem Theaterstück "Kindertotenlieder" für Gisele Vienne und Dennis Cooper. Inwieweit KTL mehr als nur ein einmaliges Projekt bleiben, hat sich noch zu erweisen, doch handelt sich nach Auskunft der Künstler um mehr als nur den Soundtrack zu dem besagtem Stück in Frankreich. Teile des Materials werden un jeden Fall für die Aufführungen von einem sih enttweder unterordneden Charakter oder eunem stark aufwühlenden geprägt. O'Malley und Cooper führen in ihren Ambient-Noise-Arrangenebts digitale Computer-Sounds und natürliche Instruments zusammen. In gegenseitigem Wechselpsiel, bzw. sich verstärkend, entstehen sphärische, dunkle und bedrohliche Soundscapes, die summem, dröhnen und schwingen. KTL sind hierbei weder allzu metallisch noch elektronisch orientiert, vielmehr fließen beide Strömungen gleichberechtigt in die Stücke ein. Es gibt jeweils genau so viel Input, wie es braucht, als Hörer am Ball zu bleiben, denn dad Duo fährt einen absolut minimalistischen Stil. Keines der sechs Stücke ist kürzer als acht Minuten, wobei der Opener mit schlappen 24:50 startet- Die beiden Musiker nehmen sich die nötige Zeit, die es braucht, die Ambient-Drone-Sounds effeftiv zu entwickeln, was Grundlage der immensen Außenwirkung ist. (AK) 11 Punkte
MOJO, FEBRUARY 2007
ANTHEM RECORDS, 04.01.2007
EARPLUG, 04.01.2007
PITCHFORKMEDIA, 02.01.2007
It's unclear how Vienne and Cooper's performance (set to debut in March of 2007) relates to these works, or whether the music on this album will be involved at all-- according to Mego, this is not the final soundtrack, but rather "a separate project"-- but if any of KTL's music is used, Kindertotenlieder should be one dark, scary piece of theater. These six tracks lean heavily toward the O'Malley side of KTL's aural spectrum, filled with blackened drones, quaking low end, and elongated sub-metal riffs. Rehberg's contribution is by no means negligible, but he bends his electronic washes and distorted noise to fit O'Malley's unwavering dirges. Fans of each artist will find a lot to drown in here, but KTL is more likely to strike an eternal chord with the Sunn0))) and Southern Lord crowds than with followers of Pita and his Mego cohorts.
Regardless of preference, any listener will be tested by KTL's opening cut, a 25-minute marathon of barren ambience aptly titled "Estranged". Over a distant rumble, the duo adds a few hesitant sounds: slow guitar chords, small slices of noise, and not much else. Those accents, however, are so sparse that it feels as if both men could have left the room during portions of their recording. The track's modicum of hypnotic chill could benefit from theatric visuals, but on record, "Estranged" would have worked better as an epilogue (and kind of does, as the shorter album-closing reprise "Snow").
Despite that slow beginning, the guts of KTL-- four tracks all titled "Forest Floor"-- are worth waiting for. Here, O'Malley and Rehberg's individual approaches mesh into a third distinct sound. The overlap between the former's glacial doom and the latter's busy noise gradually increases as each track thickens and expands. "Forest Floor 1" collects harrowing screeches like horror-film sound effects isolated into abstraction. On "Forest Floor 2", Rehberg doles out cutting jolts that sound like a laptop take on a Wolf Eyes fist-pumper, while "Forest Floor 3" strikes a spot-on median between two artistic forces, as O'Malley's massive tones are lapped by the crackling flames of Rehberg's abrasions.
The "Forest Floor" suite makes KTL a success, qualified only by "Estranged", and by the hope that the duo continues to work together on future projects. The theatrical work that KTL formed to score certainly seems intriguing, but even more enticing is the possibility that O'Malley and Rehberg might improve upon this fertile first meeting. 7.1
Marc Masters
NRC HANDELSBLAD, 31.12.2006
Jacob Haagsma
FLUID, 12/06
DE:BUG, 12/06
DER STANDARD, 04.12.2006
OX, ISSUE #69, DECEMBER 2006
BLOW UP, DECEMBER 2006
ALBUM OF THE MONTH
PARIS TRANSATLANTIC, DECEMBER 2006
STORING, 01.12.2006
Eind vorig jaar werd het Weense Mego-label opgedoekt, om op 1 januari 2006 te herrijzen als Editions Mego, met uitsluitend nog Peter Rehberg (Pita) achter het roer.
KTL is de groep die Rehberg samen met Stephen O’Malley van Sunn O))) uit de grond stampte, hun debuut de muziek die zij maakten bij de voorstelling ‘Kindertotenlieder’ van de Franse theatermaakster Gisèle Vienne en de Amerikaanse schrijver Dennis Cooper, een stuk dat gebaseerd is op 425 gedichten die de Duitser Friedrich Ruckert (1788-1866) schreef nadat twee van zijn kinderen overleden op zestien dagen tijd. Al mag je deze cd geen soundtrack noemen, want wat je hier hoort is niet de muziek zoals ze bij de voorstelling zal te horen zijn. Nee, KTL staat op zich, maar had wel de muziek van ‘Kindertotenlieder’ als uitgangspunt.
Dat de elektronische drones van Rehberg en de doomriffs van O’Malley goed bij elkaar zouden passen ligt voor de hand. Want een beetje simplistisch uitgedrukt zou je kunnen stellen dat wat Pita op zijn laptop uitvreet eigenlijk hetzelfde is als wat O’Malley met een gitaar en een versterker doet: een pikzwarte, stroperige drek creëren die tergend langzaam uitdijt, tot je er als luisteraar uiteindelijk volledig in verzuipt. Toch is een winning team op papier daarom nog geen winning team op het veld, zeker niet wanneer een collaboratie tussen genregrootheden als deze zo voor de hand liggend is. Maar geen paniek: KTL is een concept dat werkt. Meer zelfs: het pakt en het beklijft. Het is een zoethouder voor masochisten.
tekst: joeri bruyninckx
PLAN B, 11.2006
KTL is an abbreviation of 'Kindertotenlieder', a new play by transgressive author/poet Dennis Cooper, and this collaboration between laptop noise merchant Peter 'Pita' Rehberg and the current magus of low-tuned guitar drone Stephen O'Malley, though not the soundtrack album, contains music that will be used in the final theatre piece.
Most of the album is taken up by a stunning four-part symphony, 'Forest Floor', in which Rehberg's powerbook glitches fall like heavy snowflakes on the speakers, and O'Malley keeps the riffs fairly high-end, until '3' introduces his familiar prowl metal hum. 'Snow' closes the record in a surround-sound of sharp jabs at the strings, causing delayed feedback that slowly melts together with the sound of digital leaves crunching underfoot.
A remarkable record that takes you directly to the place it inhabits: pitch-black, but with shafts of llight piercing through occasionally to take your breath away. George Taylor
FAIL, 30.11.2006
Noise gods from the planets of digital (Peter Rehberg) and acoustic (Stephen O'Malley) unite for a supreme journey in power electronics. That all suggests that is one hellish ride of a record. But the opening suspension of 'Estranged' is pure ambience. A night-time steadicam ride through alien Americana, like an immersive Lynch soundtrack in a single 25-minute take.
But after that, the subsequent tracks recall the palette of Sunn O))). Malley stretching sluggish guitar holds to breaking point whilst Rehberg strafes and shears with gigabytes of hard disc corruption. An unholy union.
SCHLENDRIAN, 12.2006
SOUND FIX, 24.11.2006
OTHER MUSIC UPDATE, 09.11.2006
Thick in the forest of "Forest Floor 3," my extremely loud radiator clicked on somewhere in the middle. Like a child trying to sing along to a recognizable tune, the extra hissing sound wasn't obvious until another ebbing of light and dark assonances traveled through the speakers. Drones, digital crashes and the collisions of abundant and scattered noise like this are delightfully evident and weighty, despite the subtle changes in texture and tone through the whole album. On the last track, "Snow," feedback with occasional guitar string manipulations suggests a lone squeaky swing on a playground. Barely audible tribal rhythmic sweeps signal the start of creeping precipitous frequencies, and you can almost imagine a dark figure trudging through a bleak white landscape, wind whistling and aching the ears, accelerated heartbeat keeping in the warmth. The rhythm drops out and leaves the metallic plucks and electronic crunches to fade out almost unnoticeably. KTL seems the perfect soundtrack to the fall turning into winter season -- radiators, precipitation, changing colors and cotton to wool fabrics. The enjoyment lies in the attention to the shifts. [LG]
AQUARIUS RECORDS NEW ARRIVALS #252
TESTCARD, 13.11.2006
KINDAMUSIK.NET, 08.11.2006
Het thema gaat terug op een gedichtenbundel uit de negentiende eeuw, toen Friedrich Ruckert zich, nadat twee van zijn kinderen in ruim twee weken tijd gestorven zijn, aan het werk zet om zijn ellende van zich af te schrijven. Het thema is daarna in het begin van de vorige eeuw nog opgenomen door ene Gustav Mahler die er een vijfdelige songcyclus van maakte. En KTL voegt daar nu een episode aan toe.
Mahlers laat-romantisch muzikale aanpak wordt uiteraard in de kiem gesmoord en naar goede gewoonte vullen O'Malley en zijn kompaan het werkstuk op hun eigen manier in. De vijfentwintig minuten durende opener 'Estranged' combineert donkere elektronische ambientpatronen met O'Malleys gitaarspel dat minimale onheilspellende geluiden voortbrengt. Een beetje in de lijn van Lotus Eaters en Ginnungagap, maar nog minimaler en door de extreme lengte nog aangrijpender.
Maar dat is nog niets. Vervolgens vat het corpus van KTL aan waarin de dode kinderen in vier verschillende bewegingen ('Forest Floor' 1 t/m 4) bezongen worden. De toon wordt grimmiger, het volume wordt opgedreven en de sfeer gaat meer de richting van kille black metal uit.
Er ontstaat een dichte geluidsmist, waar O'Malleys herkenbare doomriffs nog net door kunnen dringen en op het derde gedeelte lijkt het wel alsof het duo de aloude beginselen van SunnO))) omarmt en er de noodzakelijke portie gitzwarte elektronica en vervormde geluiden aan toevoegt. 'Forest Floor 3' is dan ook het absolute hoogtepunt van KTL en bevindt zich in het logische verlengde van Sunn O)))'s bejubelde Black 1.
Als de dode kinderen voldoende bezongen zijn, sterft het geluid uit en is de ravage totaal. Op de achtergrond weerklinkt 'Snow' waarvoor KTL weerom naar de muzikale aanpak van de proloog teruggrijpt. En ook al is het op plaat al erg indrukwekkend, als u echt wekenlang geen oog dicht wil doen, moet u ongetwijfeld in maart 2007 naar het Franse Brest waar O'Malley en Rehberg het theaterstuk voor het eerst live zullen begeleiden. U bent gewaarschuwd!
Hans van der Linden
MUSIQUE MACHINE, 01.11.2006
Sadly the problems and dullness start from the onset with estranged- a near 25 minute track that does little to move away from it's held down synth cord and various not very interesting electronic and building guitar effects. I really can't see what they where trying to get at here, but you just feel the seconds and the minutes drag on. The next track forestfloor one , thankful fairs better tying the slow lo-fi grim riffing to Rehberg's twists and bending electronics. It almost feels like a grim black god is reborn into a futuristic strange land, as it makes it's way though streets and highways crash and destroy all it sees. Black vines growing up from the destruction.
Forestfloor four starts with a bubbling magnetic storm of sound, before the slow branding riff chug slaps in with boiling electro edges. Like half eaten beast trying to stager out a growing daylight- it's black flesh singing and boiling. Really this seems to have captured such a wonderful dense and grim atmosphere that lays very heavy on ones mind- pity the track ends really. Sadly though the last track snow is a rehash of Estrange for another 13 minutes- not really adding much more to the tiresome investigations of the theme in the first track.
It's a really pity that this is bookend with such uninspiring just plain lazy tracks, when we know both artist are capable of so much more. Maybe they should just have released this as an ep. Never the less worth a grim savour for it decaying black middle. 3/5
Roger Batty
BOOMKAT NEWSLETTER 27.10.2006
ALBUM OF THE WEEK
THE WIRE, NOVEMBER 2006
Beginning in near silence, Rehberg's insidious drone soon finds itself invaded by clanging, dissolute chords from O'Malley's guitar. What at first sounds somewhat gothic - in the subcultural sense - eventually erupts in a shattered whorl of electronic chaff. Arcs of feedback lash at unnatural angles, mechanical screams issue from the lightless mass and mangeled riffs fester like Black Metal gone terminally septic. When the storm finally subsides, it leaves not calm but creeping emptiness punctuated by disquietingly furtive fretboard clamour and distant snarls of metal machine noise.
The two musicans work effectively together, O'Malley evoking a sense of dread and grief with his downtuned sludge while the sounds issuing from Rehberg's corner disrupt the air like shockwaves shuddering through the collective unconscious. Vienne and Cooper's 'Kindertotenlieder' premieres in Brest, France in February 2007 and if this music is anything to go by, it should prove to be an unforgettable - if unsettling - experience.
Joseph Stannard
eMEGO 077
quintetAvant: En Concert à la Salle des Fêtes CD
Cbristopher Delaurenti
BLOW UP, OCTOBER 2006
(7/8) Massimiliano Busti
THE WIRE, SEPTEMBER 2006
Among the first sounds one hears are pigs grunting, but the porcine source is treated with feline grace, as the quintet weaves together a bewildering array of materials - laughs, intoned speeches, scratched plastic foam, dustbins, bird whistles, diodes, gates, filters - with absolute musicality. It's astonishing to think that this is a live performance.
Musique concrète has a long and honoured tradition in france, but now borders on the passé. QuintetAvant breathe new life into familiar procedures by taking them out of the studio, removing much of the old obsession with process and delivering a live mix which is thoughtful and exhilarating. Feedback is handled with effortless ease and even at high dynamics the projected sound is detailed and crystalline, a triumph of control. 39 minutes expands almost to infinity and then condenses to a tiny tone-burst, depending on your mood and angle of entry.
Brian Morton
DE:BUG 09/06
VITAL WEEKLY 21.07.2006
FAIL, 20.07.2006
KULTUREFLASH, 03.08.2006
Four untitled tracks. Two are long, the other two are short. No catchy melodies, followable beats or love and warmth here. But it is quite a nice summation of the Mego brand. I can hear echoes of Hecker's viciousness, Pita's classicist leanings and Tujiko Noriko sense of mischief.
Throw in sped up vocals, animal noises, distorted instrumentation, bursts of skull cracking feedback and its a maelstrom of epic proportions. Made even more astonishing by the improvisational nature of the performance.
Analogue noise constructed from bezier curves.
eMEGO 047
Tujiko Noriko: Shojo Toshi+ CD
Having since created a masterpiece with last year's 28, it's easier to see what made Shojo Toji great: the clever electronic glitches; the heady, dreamy, and utterly bizarre vocal deliveries; the cute yet melancholic little melodies. This reissue includes new artwork and five bonus cuts, originally released in 2002 as I Forgot the Title, a rare twelve-inch EP. And the additional material -- including "Anti Newton," which sounds like Underworld in its mellower moments, takes the disc from really good to great.
Tujiko went on to perfect her sound in later records, such as 2005's Blurred in My Mirror and the aforementioned 28. But Shojo Toji showcases a twenty-three-year-old singer finding her feet, baring some scars, and creating some very interesting pop. Reissues such as this one serve to bring perfectly good, dusty relics into the light.
7.5/10
BLOW UP, SEPTEMBER 2006
(7/8) Stefano I. Biachni
FOXY DIGITALIS, 13.09.2006
Noriko had always been on my list of artists to explore and it feels like “Shojo Toshi” is a good starting point. Its 10 tracks vary a lot in style and mood, ranging from innocent and child-like melodies to more frantic and uneasy tracks that still contain the innocent elements. “BeBe” is a good example of this second category of tracks. A stomping beat and Noriko´s layered and cut-up wordless vocals leave a feeling of anxiety, but the conclusion of the track is like a happy end. Noriko is a gifted singer with a broad range of emotions to express. Especially beautiful are “White Film”, a post-shoegaze anthem and the incredibly melancholic “Machi No Kakera”, on which Noriko combines Japanese and English vocals as well as more traditional Japanese sounding sequences with symphonic electronica music. An equally pretty song is “Differencia”, organs in various shapes knitting a thick fabric of ambiance.
The five bonus songs, originally included on the “I Forgot the Title” 12” EP, continue the sound of “Shojo Toshi”. Its opening track exemplifies Noriko´s ability to change moods within seconds. Towards the middle of the track her singing wipes away all the discomfort present before. Following is “Pop Skirt”, the prettiest tune on the whole disc that starts with a mesmerizingly beautiful piano line and blends into a song vaguely resembling 60s French chansons. The CD ends with a live performance from 2001 that hints at Noriko´s talent of transporting her intimate songs on stage. - Stephan Bauer
Rating 8/10
ALMOST COOL MUSIC, 10.08.2006
Although it's not my favorite album of hers (that would be From Tokyo to Naiagara), Shojo Toshi is a perfect introduction to her world of skewed electronic pop and still contains some of her best songs to date. After the shorter instrumental opening track of "Endless End," one of those aforementioned amazing tracks follows in "White Film." Comprised of only soft woodwinds, some electronic tones, and vocals, the track is far from simple, as Noriko takes multiple layers of each then pulls them apart and puts them back in beautiful ways, creating a lovely tension by breaking apart each element at one point in the track.
"Machi No Kakera" is another standout, feeling more like a collage or a musical haiku than a traditional song. Shifting from filtered orchestra to quiet glitch-touched ballad and finally falling away with a touch of piano, it's a total stunner. Elsewhere, the album is more playful, as on the super crunchy, hip-hop inspired "Bebe," where overdriven beats dance with chopped-up vocals, chimes, and hand percussion.
"Mannequin Surfer" takes several of the elements introduced earlier in the album and combines them for another unique piece as hissy beat programming mingles with both traditional instrumentation like piano and flutes that all seem to fight with digitally-deconstructed dopplegangers of themselves as the song progresses. The vocals of Noriko, of course, are one of the major reasons for the success of the release as well. Moving from mournful to playful, at times she lets her voice come through the mix clean, but she also uses her voice as textures and rhythmic elements throughout, expanding her palette even further. Although they don't seem quite as developed, the bonus track are definitely a nice addition to the release, providing an expanded glimpse of her work from roughly the same time period. If you haven't heard this unique artist yet and are curious, this is as good of any place to start.
Rating: 8.25
FAIL, 03.07.2006
Like organic, saccharine sweets with serrated, pixellated edges. Best demonstrated by the awesome 'Bebe'. Funnily enough the best description came from the genre my iTunes decided to place this in: Pop.
THE WIRE, JULY 2006
This collection includes the 2002 12" "I Forgot The Title", which features the monstrous beat proportions of "Anti Newton" and "I Love You", whose tinkling idyll is subject to crossfire of a series of rhythmical aberations.
Noriko is essentially playful, as evinced by the freshly commissioned cover artwork for this album, in which a 50 foot cut-out of Noriko smilingly casts yellow death rays on a fleeing populance below. However, the input of these songs, deliberately overburdened, blown up, shot through and electronically refried, yet surviving the process intact, indicate that she is not to be taken lightly. This was a formidable debut.
David Stubbs
DE:BUG 07/06
ed [****]
eMEGO 081
Hecker: Electronic Music Soundtrack for "The Disenchanted Forest x 1001" by Angela Bulloch DoCD
But then, you are talking to someone who thinks 'PV Trecks' and 'Sun Pandamonium' are two of the greatest releases in the last 100 years. So I may be a little biased.
Still, this sounds like him. That undefinable low-level code quality of noise, tones and frequencies here given a wide canvas. Given extra spacial awareness on the 'Stereo Mix', recorded in the Hamburger Bahnhof in Berlin complete with natural reverb. The 2nd disc contains the same material, just direct from his harddisc.
THE WIRE, JUNE 2006
As the title conveys, this is music composed to accompany an installation by the artist Angela Bulloch. 'The Disenchanted Forest x 1001' was exhibited in the Tate Triennial group show during spring 2006 at London's Tate Britain. The installation is a room with an elevated floor and a suspended deiling covered in grey discs that look like 'Star Trek' teleporters. Bulloch strung a kilometre of luminescent cord between the floor and ceiling and lined the room's walls with a horizontal row of 1001 small metal discs of the kind used, we are told to number trees in Berlin's parks. Hecker's soundtrack plays through seven channels, six of which are only audible in specific locations within the gallery space. This recording was made when the piece was exhibited in Berlin last year and is a two channel rendition of the original mulichannel signal.
The disc (actually, there are two - the second is an almost indistinguishable "virtual binaural mix") has playing time of 52 minutes, far longer than most people will have spent viewing the installation. Designed to be experienced randomly and briefly, the music is served up with monolithic linearity as an unbroken CD track. But despite the defiantly un-postmodern presentation, these sonorous electroacoustic squalls and squiggles still surprise after repeated listenings. They squirm across the stereo sky, throwing off white light and evanescant heat haze before they carom into silence; growling drones provide an intermittent, subterranean counterpoint.
The installation's stark spaces and sudden, processed incursions speak of a future totalitarianism, a surveillance space whose air is rendered hostile by CCTV signals, ANPR systems, trackers and tracers. It's those tiny discs that provide the biggest clue: how does it feel to be a sentient animal in a universe where even the trees must be registered? Like this, one imagines - bombarded from all sides by spasmodic cascades of alien information.
Chris Sharp
VICE MAGAZINE, May 2006
SUBURBAN DWIGHT
UNCUT, June 2006
For some, number-crunching composer Florian Hecker's daring 2003 album 'Sun Pandämonium' bridged the gap between visceral power electronics and serene ambient music. While the 30-year-old's 50-minute soundtrack for Angela Bulloch's installation at this year's Tate Triennial show lacks that record's dynamic thrust, its still a disorienting, enjoyably alien listen: like eavesdropping on a heated discussion between several hard-drives in an echo chamber. A second disc contains a "Virtual Binaural Mix" of the piece that, when heard through headphones, more easily distinguishes the different voices' metallic chatter. 3 stars
Piers Martin
eMEGO 080
Anthony Pateras & Robin Fox: Flux Compendium CD
ALLMUSIC.COM, June 2006
BRAINWASHED, 02.05.2005
PARIS TRANSATLANTIC, MAY 2006
FAIL, 27.04.2006
REVUE ET CORRIGÉ #67, MARCH 2006
Le moins que l’on puisse dire, c’est que ça swingue fortement. Des matières brassées de gauche à droite et de haut en bas dans une large échelle dynamique.
De tels dispositifs sont assez fréquents mais ces deux là y amènent leur touche perso, un plaisir du jeu et du faire. Une dimension ludique mise en avant. Comme un jeu vidéo endiablé, abandonné sans personne aux commandes.
L’ensemble est divisé en plusieurs pièces, histoire de montrer les différentes possibilités d’une telle combinaison : de la fusion explosive au micro-détail pointilliste en passant par des trames accumulées. Les sources restent parfois fortement identifiables, comme la voix par exemple, et créent des collages à dimension anecdotique aux allures d’un croisement entre un David Moss et un Chris Mann.
Enregistré en 2005, ce disque est le premier des Editions Mego qui font suite au label du même nom.
Jérôme NOETINGER
THE WIRE, APRIL 2006
Tracks are quite short, each with a distinct character, multi-dynamic and in constant flux. The comparatively brief opening barrage of "Apocalypse Now And Then" is a wacky, scratch 'n' sniff manipulation of electroacoustic clichés and sci-fi effects, bizarrely juxtaposed with a compendium of bodily functions – "punk concrète" as its authors call it. The way Pateras licks around the mic on "Aphasia" and "Olfactophobia" is quietly disgusting, while "$2.50" is a relief from orality in its focus on bell and coin sounds. The compressed and fractured argument of "Threat In Three Parts" leaves this listener in stitches, while "Perilymph" is untypical in its 13-minute length, and haunting, glitch-inflected evocation of the sine-wave/sci-fi school of electroacoustic composition. To process Pateras's signal, Fox employs a variety of techniques, mostly involving live sampling and manipulation of those samples, he explains – moving between real-time musique concrète and a kind of granular synthesis which inserts pre-designed ideas or licks built up from grains of sound. Make no mistake, Pateras and Fox are serious and major artists who happen, on occasion, to be very funny. Flux Compendium is a scream and also very beautiful, the finest showcase to date of their compositional flair and wit.
Andy Hamilton
OCTOPUS 03/06
Christophe Taupin
DE:BUG 04/06
ed [*****]
VITAL WEEKLY 27.01.2006