artifacts of the no-audience underground: the skull mask and claus poulsen on striate cortexSeptember 25, 2012 at 3:55 pm | Posted in new music, no audience underground | Leave a comment
Tags: claus poulsen, drone, electronica, improv, miguel perez, new music, no audience underground, noise, oracle netlabel, striate cortex, the skull mask
The Skull Mask – Sahomerio
(3″ CD-r in handmade packaging, Striate Cortex, S.C.53, edition of 50)
Claus Poulsen – Terrestial
(2 x 3″ CD-r boxed in handmade packaging, Striate Cortex, S.C.51, edition of 45)
Regular readers will be familiar with my role as UK champion of The Skull Mask – a terrific project from my Mexican cousin Miguel Pérez. I refer newcomers to the blurb used by Striate Cortex head honcho Andy Robinson in the publicity for this release:
Cuidad Juárez, Mexico, is a city with a murderous reputation. The war between rival drug cartels and the police made it, until recently, the homicide capital of the world. Life is tough for a civilian just trying to raise a family. I’m sure you can imagine that if you found yourself in that situation you would need a means of catharsis, a way of making sense of it all. Well, my friend Miguel Pérez lives there and he escapes through noise.
A background in the metal scene of the 90s taught him musicianship – he is an exceptional guitarist – but it was his discovery of noise and improv that set him free. A Stakhanovite work rate has led to dozens of releases under several pseudonyms, mainly through the netlabel Oracle he co-runs with Pablo Mejia, a noise artist based in the Dominican Republic.
I came to his work via the Culver-esque roars of La Mancha Del Pecado but my favourite of his projects is the solo, acoustic guitar of The Skull Mask. These improvised, psychedelic ragas are influenced by ritual music from around the world, including the shamanistic tradition of his native country, filtered through his own experiences of the Mexican wilderness.
It is beautiful, compelling, raw, ego dissolving stuff. To listen to The Skull Mask is to stand facing the hot, abrasive desert wind.
What a masterpiece of the copywriters’ art, eh? I wonder who wrote that. Oh:
Rob H, Leeds, UK, August 2012
*Ahem*, moving swiftly on… The package is awesome: printed 3” CD-r in its own wallet with beautiful pro-printed insert featuring evocative smoke photo, all contained in a handmade fold-out cardboard parcel tied up with string. Acknowledging that the title refers to a type of incense used in purification rituals, Andy has thoughtfully included a little bundle of incense sticks in each box. Why not make an offering to your favourite pagan spirit whilst this is on in the background? This release is so cool that it even smells good.
Before getting to the music there is, perhaps, a short discussion to be had about to what extent improvised music can be edited. Do you need to hear the whole performance, dead ends and mistakes included? I sometimes think the, say, two minutes of genius at the end of a passage only makes sense in the context of the six minutes of meandering that led to it. With some improv, especially groups – Spoils & Relics spring to mind – these transitional periods can have an enthralling, alchemical mystery to them as the band looks for and eventually settles on a new groove or texture. Following an act through this process is one of the rewarding joys of improvised music.
Or should we just cut to the chase? Are the minutes of genius all we need? Can we jettison the intermediary passages as just so much rehearsal? This is how, for example, the great Vibracathedral Orchestra albums were assembled. Mick et al had a great ear for start and end points and also had the vision to see individual tracks rise out of the whole. Much as I still love to hear the crescendo-plateau-fade of a full length 45 minute live tape, the discipline exercised over something so unruly and amorphous as VCO performance is one of the things that makes these records essential.
Andy has decided to take this second path. Over half the source material provided by Miguel has been excised leaving five extracts totalling 19 minutes. Some of the edits are severe, brutal even, but all are fully authorised by Miguel and, after a few listens, I have to say Andy’s decisions cannot be faulted.
This is heroic stuff, recorded simply and cheaply with a red-raw honesty (occasionally a ‘chk-chk-chk’ noise can be heard high in the right channel, no doubt an artefact of the recording, but it stands in for the cicadas of Miguel’s beloved Mexican wilderness and inadvertently adds to the heat-haze atmosphere). Miguel was amused to see this described as ‘bluesy’ in Vital Weekly but during Part Three, the epic nine minute centrepiece, it isn’t hard to imagine him standing at the crossroads, his loose-fingered raga whipping the desert dust into strange, dancing anthropomorphic shapes.
The pieces either side illustrate the expressive power of Miguel’s technique: sore-eyed from the campfire or crackling and mysterious or solemn and contemplative. In isolating these moods Andy has given us a new way of appreciating the rolling whole. He has somehow managed to carve smoke. An essential purchase, obviously.
Also new and noteworthy and issued in a painfully tiny edition is Terrestial by Claus Poulsen, probably best known around these parts for Star Turbine, his collaboration with Sindre Bjerga. Packaged in a thickly painted jewellery box, the like of which housed the aforementioned Star Turbine release, this is a double 3” CD-r set, each tucked into its own windowed envelope accompanied by a pro-printed insert and, a shocking first for SC as far as I know, a Bandcamp download code! Well did you evah?! The shape of things to come? Who knows…
The music is unashamedly spacey electronica: epic synth washes, chattering and bibbling, languid shifts in texture. Apart from some late bursts of noise, perhaps, this could have been released in the mid-90s on Pete Namlook’s FAX label. High praise from me.
The entire of the first disc is given over to the 19 minute title track (no, I don’t know where the third ‘r’ has gone either) which is a sweeping account of a generation starship‘s cruise through unimaginable spans of nothingness. The production is careful, balanced, detailed – exquisite. The second disc contains four shorter tracks, noisier but just as disciplined in their construction, which mark the arrival of the craft at its destination planet and the exploration of the seas and caverns found there. There is even a party of sorts to celebrate touchdown: second track ‘Heat’ has a beat (very rare on SC releases!) but its dubby clatter only serves to accentuate the eeriness of the new surroundings. Accomplished and involving stuff.