unique gleaming surface: fumio kosakai and spoils & relics on vinyl
February 19, 2014 at 8:49 am | Posted in new music, no audience underground | Leave a commentTags: crater lake sound, drone, electronica, fumio kosakai, harbinger sound, hijokaidan, improv, incapacitants, japanese noise, memoirs of an aesthete, new music, no audience underground, noise, pete cann, phil todd, spoils & relics, spoils and relics
Fumio Kosakai – Earth Calling (vinyl LP, Memoirs of a Crater Lake, MCL LP 1, edition of 250)
Spoils & Relics – Sins of Omission (vinyl LP, Harbinger Sound, HARBINGER113)
I have moved house too many times to be sentimental about vinyl. Anyone who has lugged boxes of records (inevitably labelled ‘HEAVY!!’ in jaunty marker pen) on and off a van will see the appeal of download culture. That said, it is hard not to appreciate the mystique of the format when presented with releases like the two above. One has white on black packaging with extensive annotations regarding its provenance, one has black on white packaging providing us with the bare minimum. Intriguing. Time to make an appointment with my sorely neglected turntable, slip the discs out, admire the unique gleam that grooved vinyl produces when held at an angle to the light, blow the miniature grey sheep from the needle, then let it drop…
Firstly, we have Earth Calling by Fumio Kosakai. I know it’s lazy of me to quote blurb but, for the sake of efficiency, I hope you’ll forgive me doing so in this instance. From the album’s Bandcamp page:
Fumio Kosakai is best known as one half of Japanese Noise legends INCAPACITANTS and latterly HIJOKAIDAN. However, he has a long history in the Japanese psychedelic/electronic underground and we must also evoke lesser known projects such as TANGERINE DREAM SYNDICATE, GU-N, C.C.C.C., CLUB SKULL, BUSTMONSTERS etc etc.
And then there’s his elusive solo work. In 1987 and 1993, he self-released two very limited cassettes of sublime solo electronic minimalism, inspired by Terry Riley, Hawkwind and Taj Mahal Travellers. There were no more than 30 copies of each cassette sent out into the world.
MEMOIRS OF AN AESTHETE have teamed up with CRATER LAKE RECORDS to reissue these cassettes as limited edition LPs. Here’s the first one, from 1987, entitled “Earth Calling”, straight from Mr. Kosakai’s original masters and sounding far better than the mp3 version which was doing the rounds a few years ago. A limited edition of 250 copies in a beautiful screenprint approximation of the original cover art expertly printed by Sir Michael Flower.
And theres an official digital download version available for the turntaburly-deprived.
Very helpful. On the same page you will also find some enlightening notes in which Fumio Kosakai explains the context of the recordings himself.
I’m happy to say that the three tracks presented fully justify this lavish reissue treatment. ‘Absent Water’ and ‘Drive To Universe’ (side one) are beautiful, melancholy, airy constructions made from strung-out electronics, held together lightly by a web of echo. Imagine a pod of immense Zeppelin-shaped creatures swimming/flying through the soupy mid-level atmosphere of a gas giant planet. Even the papery youngsters are skyscraper sized leviathans, the leathery elders are life on an unimaginable scale. As they travel they sing a lament, passing the calls and responses amongst them. This song is picked up and relayed to us by satellite, compressed and distorted by the electro-magnetic field of the world below.
‘Look To The Light’ (side two) is a minimal synth pulse allowed, with great patience and discipline, to figure itself out over the course of a whole side of the record. It sounds like a room full of audio-seismographs documenting the vibrations caused by an enormous tunnel drilling machine operating far beneath the surface of the Earth. The pulse eases briefly half way through to reveal that the sound of the machine idling is surprisingly melodic then, as it revs up again, we are caught once more in an unlikely lullaby that could, in my humble, opinion be twice as long and just as good. A wonderful record.
Next we have Sins of Omission (great title) by Spoils & Relics released by Steve Underwood’s borderline uncontactable Harbinger Sound label. Steve’s disinterest in promoting his releases is admirably, hilariously perverse (‘be resourceful’ was the advice given to hopefuls wishing to buy the last Spoils & Relics 7″ single) and, of course, by holding the prize just out of reach he only makes it more desirable. Thus, and with the greatest respect to the other labels carrying their work, I consider Harbinger Sound to be the perfect home for this band.
The album comprises two untitled side long tracks of semi-improvised sound collage. Which is A and which is B can be determined by examining the scratchings in the run out grooves of the vinyl but it doesn’t really matter. Their music denies narrative. Allow me a slightly academic moment to explain what I mean. This is not post-modern pop art – there is nothing glib or kitsch about it, nor does it ‘refer out’ for easy laffs or nods of recognition. The palette used is a largely abstract selection of found, domestic and field recordings as well as sound produced by the various electronic implements that make up their ‘kit’. The source of any given element is usually (and presumably deliberately) unclear. They are examining the innards of everything, poking around where noise happens and taking notes. It is more akin to the meta-musical experiments of AMM and their progeny.
Don’t be scared off by this – you may by now be imagining the sort of woeful, earnest, Arts Council funded, improv key-rattlers we used to see at Termite Club but not a bit of it. This music is not dry and scratchy, it is layered with humour (ranging from the wry raised eyebrow to banana skin slapstick), tension and a whip-smart self-awareness that speaks of the telepathic relationship between the band members when performing. A piece by Spoils & Relics is about sound in the same way a piece by Jackson Pollock is about paint. In summary: mightily impressive.
rob takes huge bite, eyes water, grins, attempts to swallow: rfm rounds ’em up
June 28, 2013 at 11:56 am | Posted in new music, no audience underground | 2 CommentsTags: aetheric records, brian lavelle, colectivo n, crater lake sound, drone, dust unsettled, electro pop, electronica, etai keshiki, improv, marky loo loo, miguel perez, mika jarvis, nacht und nebel, new music, no audience underground, noise, oracle netlabel, people-eaters, peopling, tapes, the subs, the subs(cribers)
people-eaters – hinterland (3” CD-r, edition of 20, or download, Aetheric Records)
people-eaters – vore EP (download, Aetheric Records)
peopling – BULBOUT (download, self-released)
Etai Keshiki – Shit Off (download, self released)
nacht und nebel – downloads culled from five various releases
Colectivo “N” – La Ultima Tocada 06-02-2013 (download, Oracle Netlabel, ORE95)
Brian Lavelle – The Night Ocean (download, Dust, Unsettled)
The Subs(Cribers) – Spilling Gravy In The Castle Of unfathomable Terrors (tape, edition of 40, Crater Lake, CL#003)
Dear reader, as a fellow music fan, I wonder if you ever feel that you have bitten off more than you can chew? Do you stare forlornly at a pile of unheard tapes and CD-rs? Do you scroll guiltily through the overfull menus on your mp3 player? Do you look at your monthly credit card bill, panic that you have been the victim of some kind of fraud, then realise that all those little Paypal payments are for various microlabel whims?
Heh, heh…
It’s brilliant isn’t it? What a privilege to have access to so much terrific art and the wonderful people that make it! I wouldn’t have it any other way: long may I choke. A case in point: last month through a mixture of hard work, delegation and judicious use of the words ‘no thanks’ I managed to get the review pile here at Midwich Mansions down to zero items. Did I take the opportunity to sit on the porch and admire the rhododendron flowers? Did I bollocks. I touted for freebies, I drifted around Bandcamp, I even paid for a few physical objects with actual money. Last week the right speaker of my ear buds broke and I had an infection in my left ear that made it painful to listen to music. Time to take a break? Not a bit of it. I ended up ramming the still working left bud into the wrong ear so I could continue getting my groove on, albeit in discombobulating mono – *sighs, grins sheepishly* – I just can’t help myself. The upshot of all this silliness is that the review pile is now teetering again and a round-up is in order. I shall point you at some great stuff that can be had cheaply or for nowt and explain with brisk efficiency why you should check it out. Links at the end. First up…
hinterland by people-eaters comprises two tracks totalling about 19 minutes and is available as a criminally limited 3″ CD-r with lovely cover by Crow versus Crow (a sort of ethereal version of the Black Flag logo), or as a download from that Bandcamp. The main components of the music are a swell of delicately balanced feedback, some breathy electronics and a low, hissing crackle (monotron?) which sprinkles a pinch of iron filings over the mix. It has a cool, enveloping feel – as if the frozen wastes are close, but that you are protected from them by a layer of parental skin and hair. Thus it documents the antenatal experience of a gestating polar bear cub (now there is a pull quote for a press release if ever I saw one: “makes you feel like an ursine foetus” – radiofreemidwich). It is also beautifully recorded and this attention to detail shows an admirable faith in their own vision. If you are going to take the trouble to return your listener to the womb then you shouldn’t allow anything to poke the amniotic sac.
The vore EP (five tracks, 21 minutes, Bandcamp download) shows a similar level of light but unswerving control. Minimal elements – an ominous rumble, a voodoo rattle, the splintered reflections from a broken mirror – are slowly rotated to give the listener a chance to appreciate each facet, then dismissed. There is, dare I say it, a midwichian simplicity to this release: the methods of construction are discretely hidden, the sounds trusted to engage (or not) on their own terms. I wholeheartedly approve of this discipline and like the results very much.
Coming at things from a different but equally satisfying direction is New York based noisester Ronnie Gonzalez who records as peopling. His skill is in taking the tropes of power noise – gargling electronics, sulphuric vocal distortion – and by combining them judiciously with more accessible ‘musical’ elements creating something fun and life-affirming. His latest, BULBOUT, a three track EP totalling seven minutes, has the funk – not a notion much called upon here at RFM. Older readers may recall the mutant pop of early 90s electro-industro-punkers like Babyland (yeah, if you want ‘played once on John Peel 20 years ago’ references this blog is for you!). Peopling is the teenage son of that sound: beaming, busting with mischievous energy and clearly spitting out his medication the second the nurse leaves the room.
Ronnie refers to BULBOUT as a ‘digital 7″ single’ which makes perfect sense to me. One of the strengths of the Bandcamp model is that, within the prescribed site format (ugly but functional enough to be transparent), you are free to present your release how you like. If your work is complete, coherent and self-contained then why can’t it be an ‘album’, even if it is only two minutes long? Which brings me to…
Shit Off by Etai Keshiki is a one track album totalling an epic 113 seconds and apparently named for an incidental detail in the short film My Wrongs 8245-8249 and 117 by Chris Morris (click on thumbnail to enlarge). It is hardcore fast, rhythmically elastic and very, very angry. Imagine the camera focussed on someone drowning in a lake, screaming for help as they surface, limbs flailing in the churning froth. Then the camera pulls back to reveal there are actually four people making exactly the same moves in unison. This is synchronised, precision flailing. Freely downloadable but chuck these kids some money if you can as they are always proper anarcho-punk skint.
New to me is the charming Henry Davies who took my left elbow in one hand and with the other gestured to his Bandcamp site where the lazy can find all his recordings as nacht und nebel collected in one convenient location. I downloaded the newest five – split tape w/Crimwewave, split tape w/Lea Cummings, hrönir, split 7″ with W>A>S>P>S and 466 Days originating on various labels – which takes us from the present day back to October of last year. Selecting ‘play all’ on my mp3 device accidentally compiled them into an impressively cohesive 11 track, 61 minute ‘album’ of short and shortish noise tracks.
Henry’s sole sound source is, apparently, a cello though there is little that sounds like a Bach concerto here. Like Chrissie Caulfield’s violin, I suspect his instrument is filtered and processed by a daisy-chain of effects before it reaches our ears. Most of this is fairly heavy duty electronic noise but it is far from being mere HNW. Henry has an ear for the rhythmically mechanical and is adept at handling a rolling crescendo – a quality sorely lacking in much overly-static ‘harsh’ noise. Thus the tracks have dynamism, momentum and are edited for impact. The rhythmic elements clear some headspace which allows the listener to fully appreciate the atmosphere. Thus despite being a demanding listen, the work is never wilfully bombastic or alienating. Very much worth your while.
A word about Henry’s band name, as I was troubled by it. Nacht and nebel (‘night and fog’) was the Nazi policy of providing no information as to the fate of those taken prisoner by the regime. It facilitated mass murder, unimaginable horror shrouded behind mute bureaucracy. Is there anything more nightmarish? It is also the German title of Nuit et brouillard a profoundly harrowing short documentary film about the Holocaust released in 1955, directed by Alain Resnais. In short: why the fuck would anyone choose this as their band name? I put this to him and he replied:
First off, it’s emphatically not a pro-nazi thing at all.
When I started doing this (about 7 years ago, I think?) I had the idea that whatever name I chose for it should in some way reflect the fact that it isn’t obvious that all the sounds originally come from the same source (a ‘cello) – a kind of audio obscurantism, if you like. Around the same time, I happened to be reading Philip K Dick’s The Simulacra, which mentions nacht und nebel in passing, and that it translates to night and fog (but little else, as i recall), which struck me as exactly the sort of thing I had in mind. Some investigation at the library later and the awful nature of it was quite striking.
My intention with nacht und nebel musically has always been to evoke an atmosphere of dread more than anything, with suggestions of unsettling and nightmarish things going on that are being hidden from view so you can never quite make them out (seen through a glass, darkly, as it were) and that you have no control over. (Which no doubt betrays my interest in certain kinds of horror) – judging my success or otherwise at attaining such arguably highfalutin goals is no doubt best left as an exercise for the listener. But that all played into the choice of name as well in one way or another – as you say, troubling.
So yes, it’s entirely abhorrent, both for what it obscured and that it enabled ‘across-the-board, silent defiance of international treaties and conventions: one cannot apply the limits and terms of humane treatment in war if one cannot locate a victim or discern that victim’s fate.’ That said, I do find it interesting that ‘band’ names are almost always taken to be a positive thing (a kind of seal of approval) when there’s no real reason for the opposite not to be the case (i.e. the band ebola, for instance, come to mind as an example.)
I was satisfied with this (and, as an aside, that last point is an interesting one). I suppose my worry about his use of that concept for a band name comes from growing up with industrial noise and power electronics in the 1980s and 1990s. That scene was overflowing with idiots vying to be the most ‘shocking’ or ‘challenging’ or ‘transgressive’ and I suppose when I found out what ‘nacht and nebel’ referred to I was taken back to those tedious times. Now I see that is not Henry’s intention at all and, whilst I am still squeamish about the use of such concepts/imagery in this context, I’m happy to acknowledge that he has at least thought this through.
OK, let’s lighten the mood.
Colectivo N is the improv duo of RFM regular Miguel Perez (La Mancha Del Pecado, The Skull Mask) and his compañero Picho. La Ultima Tocada (June 2, 2013) is the document of their last gig together before Picho moved way over west to that other crazy border town Tijuana. What we have here is a very entertaining quarter hour of Miguel jaggling the strings (yes I know jaggling isn’t a proper word but you know exactly what I mean, don’t you?) of his guitar whilst Picho wails comically and/or mournfully through a strangulated trumpet. There are vocals: sardonic interludes and some exaggerated, grunting pastiche of lounge jazz – a bit in the first few minutes reminded me of the scat solo in the immortal ‘mnah mnah’ Muppet Show sketch. Worth noting that this performance did not take place in the Juarez equivalent of the Fox & Newt in front of a knowing, improv-savvy audience but in a regular bar in front of bemused punters who had little idea what was occurring. These boys have some big brass balls. Miguel tells me that the recording cuts out before the applause because… there was no applause. Which is both hilarious and awesome.
After all this noisy racket my poor infected ears needed a little balm so, on a whim, I made a visit to the website of long-term friend of this blog Brian Lavelle. Brian’s work, that is: his own recordings and those made by friends and associates released by him on his Bandcamp label Dust, Unsettled, is uniformly excellent. To my shame, a quick search of this blog reveals that he has not been mentioned recently. My apologies – I suspect this is because I rather take him and the quality of his offerings for granted. Erik Satie once described selections of his own work as ‘furniture music’, meaning them to be used as background ambience, and I have to admit to treating Brian’s back catalogue as a kind of wing-backed leather armchair. Around Midwich Mansions his music is ‘used’ – as a lullaby, a massage, an exotic holiday, a diverting puzzle – rather than ‘listened to’ as such. Sounds like a back-handed compliment, I know, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.
Take, for example, The Night Ocean a 40 minute, single track album inspired by an atmospheric short story by H.P. Lovecraft and R.H. Barlow (a pdf version of which is thoughtfully included with the download). It ripples in the cool offshore breeze, it shimmers with reflected moonlight (‘Yet for me there is a haunting and inscrutable glamour in all the ocean’s moods. It is in the melancholy silver foam beneath the moon’s waxen corpse…’), it fizzes as each stroke disturbs the plankton and triggers a phosphorescent display. And that is it: no driving forward momentum, no complicated narrative, just a barely perceptible ebb and flow. By using ‘stop’ or ‘repeat’ this track can be made to last exactly as long as you need it to. An excellent example of the underrated sub-genre LNW (lovely noise wall).
And finally…
If the concept of ‘goodwill’ could be transformed into a band then the result would be The Subs, such is the regard with which they are held. The doe-eyed adoration is justly deserved, however, as the duo of Markylooloo (Stoke scene veteran, paragon of virtue) and Mika (the girl who radiates sunshine) produce electro-pop perfection. The band’s small but exquisite catalogue of songs, crafted in fits of sporadic creativity spanning two decades, is almost overwhelmingly charming. Cute without being twee, sweet without being saccharine, daft without being stupid – it’s as groovily, refreshingly life-affirming as eating ice-lollies in the park on a warm Sunday afternoon. Lovely.
—ooOoo—
Right then, here’s where to get all this great stuff:
The Subs(Cribers) – Discogs listing, more info here, no word on the Crater Lake site as yet so email Pete – pete_cann@hotmail.co.uk – for ordering details.
“excuse me, can you show me where the ‘yorkshire experimental’ section is please?”
January 29, 2013 at 7:14 am | Posted in musings, new music, no audience underground | 10 CommentsTags: crater lake sound, daniel thomas, drone, electronica, improv, leeds university union music library, no audience underground, noise, panelak, pascal ansell, tapes
Leeds University Union Music Library
Panelak – Arnica Eyebright (Cassette, Crater Lake Sound, CL#22, edition of 50)
I am not sentimental about the physical objects on which music can be stored. I recognize that a CD or whatever has a crucial role as a ‘place holder’ for the music it contains, of course: an object demands contemplation and packaging and presentation can add a dimension to the experience of listening. However, I’ve moved house too many times to be misty-eyed about shelves of vinyl. The CD jewel case is one of the crappest pieces of design that decadent late period capitalism has come up with. Tapes are cute – I’ll give you that – but, even after throwing hundreds of ‘em away in-between their last burst of popularity and this current phase, they still gather in drifts…
…and yet I have serious misgivings about download culture too (not regarding copyright or piracy of course – I couldn’t give a toss. Those arguments are over. You may as well discuss theories of phlogiston.) and I have written at length about how having what-might-as-well-be infinite access was actually detrimental to my organs of musical appreciation. It led to the compulsive amassing of as much ‘archive’ as possible, almost all of it unloved, heard once if at all. Discernment, connoisseurship both went out the window taking enjoyment with them and were replaced with a miserable frantic desire to ‘keep up’. Ugh. It took a concerted effort of will to discipline myself and re-establish a balance.
So what now? Well, I am in the super-privileged position of having many lovely, talented friends and acquaintances happy to give me their work in return for the possibility of review on this blog or just because they are keen for me to hear it. Recommendations come my way for the same reasons. It is beautiful. But what about stuff outside my areas of expertise? Do I clog the hard drive with downloads, or fill the house with objects?
Well, perhaps neither because my luck extends to having a music library in the Students’ Union at the University where I work. The Union Music Library (hereafter: UML) of the University of Leeds, a repository for some 7000 items, has been around for donkey’s years – indeed I was a member myself as an undergraduate back in the early 1990s. I was recently reminded of its existence due to the evangelism of Pascal Ansell.
Pascal is well known within the Leeds ‘experimental’ ’music’ ’community’ for his tiggerish enthusiasm, his enviable youth and his limitless capacity for starting projects. He occasionally bites off more that he can chew and one of us older, more jaded types has to administer the Heimlich manoeuvre but he is so personable that if a plan comes to nought it is hard to be annoyed. You just want to ruffle his hair.
Still, he is notching up a few undeniable achievements: a tape of his solo project Panelak is available (see below), he is promoting a very interesting looking show and has his own label in the works too. He also came to me before Christmas with an idea which is now reaching fruition. What the UML needs, he suggested, is a new section dedicated to experimental music from Yorkshire. After overcoming my amazement that such a thing as the UML still existed in these internet-enabled times, I agreed to give him a hand selling the idea to the people in charge and to donate a bunch of stuff to kick it off. The idea of getting stuff out of the crates at home and into circulation has a strong appeal to me. I baulked at his request to write a guide for it, instead offering up whatever bits of this blog he felt like appropriating.
So, a few weeks and a bunch of emails later I found myself with Pascal and Daniel Thomas (along for the ride) delivering a couple of carrier bags full of goodies to the charming people who run the enterprise. We were met by Evelyn, Lorna and a third girl whose name I didn’t catch (please forgive this lapse, most unchivalrous) who were smiley, grateful and enthusiastic and made the experience totally life-affirming. Here is some dynamic photo-journalism documenting the place and the ‘handover’:
A lunchtime delegation from the Leeds Noise Underground arrives at the Music Library. Lorna of UML: left foreground, Evelyn of UML: behind Lorna, Daniel Thomas (Hagman, Sheepscar Light Industrial): right, mysterious third girl of UML: behind Dan, Pascal and me: out of shot. Check out how fucking cool the Music Library room is.
Stock, glorious stock.
“Excuse me, could you explain how the indie rock etc. section is organized?”
Pascal pulls out a vinyl Sun Ra album and we all gawp in awe.
Billy Joel guards the ‘try before you borrow’ turntable. Vinyl only – doesn’t work for CDs. Handwritten note implies these librarians like to party at work!
New acquisitions board – I’ll be asking for more midwich, obviously.
The handover! Evelyn and Rob enjoy the magical moment.
I explain that no-one will be interested but, frankly, it is so hard to say ‘no’ to Pascal that sometimes it is easier to just humour him. Everyone else nods earnestly. Pascal, too excited for words, takes photos and then…
…hands over his own tape thereby crowbarring himself into musical history. Nice work!
Well that was all very exciting, eh? Some of the acts represented in the bundles I passed over include: Astral Social Club, Spoils and Relics, Early Hominids, etai keshiki, Half an Abortion, Inverted Nepal, Lanterns, Legion of Swine, Brown, Ocelocelot, Petals, Posset, Ashtray Navigations, Julian Bradley, Human Combustion Engine, Human Horses, Klunk, Neck vs. Throat, The Piss Superstition, prpGroup, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Aqua Dentata, Sindre Bjerga, Deadwood and Petrels, amongst others (and, yes, I know some of these have no Yorkshire connection but I was straight up with the librarians about any liberties taken). Dan dropped in the last copy of his collaboration with Kev Sanders and this weekend I bought a copy of the terrific Helicopter Quartet CD-r to add to the pile too.
So now we finally return to the themes of my opening paragraphs. I appreciate the value of the physical object but don’t necessarily need (or even want) to own them. I do want to take chances on more mainstream stuff, or rediscover back catalogue gems, but without testing my pathetic willpower by opening the download floodgates. Thus the music library offers a lovely compromise solution.
The set-up encourages a healthy discipline in two ways. Firstly, you must choose from a large but finite collection. Secondly, your membership allows you to take out just one item at a time – a restriction as delightful as fur-lined handcuffs. Better still, you get to mull over your decision in a friendly environment then engage in a genuine face-to-face social transaction with a fellow music fan – the librarian – before exiting with your booty. Finally, there is a pleasing ‘survivalist’ aspect to all this. When the aliens invade and destroy our server-based culture with one gigantic electro-magnetic pulse the objects herein, the vinyl at least, will still be usable. I exaggerate for comic effect, of course, but as my Mexican cousin Miguel has sadly found out recently, the hard-drive is not a heritage medium. In short then: it is all good and deserving of support.
Thus, if you are a student or member of staff at the University of Leeds you can, and should, join. If you do not fall into either category but find yourself on campus now and again then you could ask about ‘guest’ membership. I dunno if this is possible but no harm in asking. To join there is a £10-per-academic-year fee and a returnable £10 deposit is required to make sure you don’t run off with anything. Membership can be bought online via the Union website – you will have to create an account but that takes a matter of minutes. See the Music Library page for details, contact info, opening hours and the like or go visit them in their secret turret. I am told the new noise section (I’m presuming: a cardboard box with some tapes and CD-rs in it) could be up and running as soon as the end of this week.
For those of you unfortunate enough not to live in this fair city I suggest you frequent your council run libraries – always grateful for business in this desperate era of swinging cuts – where CDs can be hired and/or ordered for smallish fees or see if there are private or educational libraries, student-run or otherwise, that you could blag access too. I’d be interested to hear about other such endeavours. Keep up the inter-scene trades too. Good circulation is necessary to keep the extremities healthy.
EDIT: UML membership open to all – see comments.
EDIT AGAIN: check out the Forgotten Vinyls blog – a one-woman alphabetical odyssey through UML’s LP archive.
—ooOoo—
…and whilst Pascal is front and centre let’s round things off with a quick look at the Panelak tape:
Here are some snippets from the blurb that Pascal passed on to me:
…pass through scattered suffusions and billowing noise, detouring into heavy ambience, harsh mouth utterances and piercing mbiras scrapes … draws heavily from recordings made at the Bates Mill in Huddersfield which manufactures synthetic fur fabrics … Throbbing keyboards and squiggling mic feedback as well as scraping tremolos are bundled together with the aim to emulate the devotional nature of mandala gazing…
All in 28 minutes – blimey. Note the use of samples from The Wire and, erm… Boney M (!) are not mentioned. Now, I wouldn’t normally be so lazy as to quote promo material but the description above nicely illustrates both what is good and what is not so good about this tape. Pros: it is ambitious, joyous and packed full of ideas that are occasionally realised in a great, rolling rush of fun. Cons: it is all over the place which leaves some of the ideas, pretty good ones too, feeling sketchy and unfinished. The chap does not lack imagination and talent, what is missing is patience. I’m sure his work would benefit from doing fewer things at greater depth. Kids, eh? I am reminded of that ‘two bulls on a hill’ joke. Anyway…
This cassette has apparently been released in an edition of fifty by Pete Cann’s Crater Lake Sound imprint, though no details have made it to the CLS blog as yet. Get it direct from the Panelak Bandcamp site or, hey, borrow it from the record library and try it out!
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